µ pour corrections

VOIE MYSTIQUE

I

Sources historiques

Dossier assemblé par Dominique Tronc

MYSTIQUES en Terres d’ISLAM

HISTORY in PERSIA, CENTRAL ASIA, INDIA

HOMMES DU BLÂME & NAQSBANDIYYA

CONTENUS

Ce premier de trois dossiers est provisoire¹. Il assemble des informations en français ou en anglais. Mais l’essentiel intime demeure caché ².

Ses informations peuvent éclairer même si la lignée des ‘Aînés’ prit place au sein de conditions de vie et culturelles si éloignées de notre culture que leur méconnaissance conduit à des interprétations contradictoires³.

Il risque de trop concentrer l’attention sur l’historique au détriment de ce qui demeure d’intérêt universel en introduisant des distinctions secondaires, traces mortes d’un passé bien oublié. Mais ses exemples biographiques situent les conditions que nos aînés ont dû surmonter⁴.

Deux tomes de sources convergent du cadre général historique au spécifique vécu intime, procédant ainsi de l’écorce au fruit. Le troisième et dernier tome est un relevé de témoignages de mystiques « associés » où une douzaine « d’apôtres » représentent équitablement, quatre par quatre, trois Traditions mystiques (à défaut d’une quatrième vivante en extrême-orient ⁵). Leurs regards sont orientés vers le même Indicible.

J’opère en succession de zoom ou grossissement (et spécialisation). Voici leurs contenus des deux premiers tomes ⁶  :

UNE VOIE MYSTIQUE Tome I.

1. MYSTIQUES en Terres d’Islam ouvre le dossier sur une présentation française large des soufis et des hommes du blâme ainsi que d’une synthèse en anglais orientée par

2. HISTORY in PERSIA, CENTRAL ASIA, INDIA, introduit à deux grands empires musulmans nés en Asie centrale. Cadres historiques méconnus.

3. HOMMES DU BLÂME & NAQSBANDIYYA présente l’ordre de soufis et d’hommes du blâme du nom de leur réformateur Naqsband.

UNE VOIE MYSTIQUE Tome II.

4. FILIATIONS dont l’une remarquable mystiquement parmi les nombreuses silsilas de la Naqsbandiyya vit l’accomplissement intime en une transmission silencieuse de coeur à coeur.

5. QUATRE ÉCRITS ANCIENS : La lucidité implacable de Sulamî, Traité de l’amour d’Ibn ‘Arabi et le Traité de l’Unité qui lui fut attribué, Les Jaillissements de Lumière de Jâmî.

6. DEUX MYSTIQUES EN RELATION : les rapports unissant Lilian Silburn à son Maître.

Les pièces regroupées en six sections sont présentées dans leurs formes d’origine.

TABLE LIMITÉE AUX DEUX PREMIERS NIVEAUX

(Consulter également la Table détaillée figurant en fin de volume)

1.Mystiques  	237 pages
2.History  	247	
3.Blâme Naqs 	210

1. MYSTIQUES en Terres d’Islam

Ouverture : Une assemblée spirituelle

Trois tendances parmi les spirituels qui vécurent en terres d’Islam ⁷ 

– les soufis : Ils sont attestés à Koufa puis à Bagdad, dans l’actuel Irak, par des figures marquantes telles que Râb’iâ. Ils sont liés à la religion musulmane même si certains traits sont inspirés du monachisme syrien ou indien. Ils se distinguent le plus souvent par leur mode de vie retirée ou communautaire, en contraste avec l’existence laïque de milieux urbains fortement socialisés. Certains s’attachent aux états spirituels et à des pratiques favorisant l’apparition de transes, ou mieux, le partage d’états avec ceux de leur maître. Ainsi repérables par leurs vêtements, leurs règles, leurs monastères, pratiquant l’ascèse, le terme ‘soufi’ devint synonyme de ‘mystique’ en terre musulmane⁸.

Ils n’ont guère besoin des docteurs de la loi. Par leur pratique parfois inspirée des prophètes, au point de mettre en question le rôle totalisant du dernier d’entre eux, Mohammad, ils font facilement l’objet de persécutions : Hallâj (-922), Hamadâni (-1131), Sarmad (-1661) et beaucoup d’autres sont les figures emblématiques martyrisées en pays arabe, iranien, indien. Ils furent influencés par le modèle présenté par l’avant-dernier prophète Jésus.

– Les gens du blâme ou malâmatîya apparurent à Nichapour dans le Khorassan, province du nord-est de l’Iran. Le premier d’entre eux serait Hamdun al-Qassâr (-884). Ils se réclament de Bistâmî (-849) et sont attestés par des figures telles que Sulamî (-1021), leur premier historien, suivi d’Hujwîrî (-1074), auteur d’un célèbre traité soufi. Le simple et très direct Khâraqânî (-1033) fut le premier au sein des directeurs mystiques : le ‘pôle’ de son époque. Tous demeurent cachés, se méfient des états et rejettent les pratiques, ‘blâmant’ leur moi jusqu’â son effacement complet. Ils ne sont pas à confondre avec certains qalandarîya et d’autres excentriques⁹.

– Les théosophes : une tendance théosophique (au sens premier du terme, à rapprocher de la théologie mystique telle qu’elle fut pratiquée par des spirituels chrétiens comme Syméon le Nouveau Théologien) s’illustre chez Sohravardî (-1191), Ibn ‘Arabî (-1240), Shabestarî (-1340). Elle est particulière en Iran chiite, reprenant des éléments de la tradition sassanide tels que des symboles propres au jeu lumière/ténèbres, les émanations propres au néo-platonisme supposant un monde intermédiaire. Elle s’illustre chez Molla Sadra (-1640) pour devenir un chemin intellectuel (peut-être sous influence de docteurs du judaïsme médiéval ?).

En fait on ne doit pas cloisonner les mystiques en terre d’Islam en plusieurs voies, car elles fonctionnent comme des tendances qui peuvent s’associer chez le même individu : ainsi Abû Sa’id (-1049) apparaît-il à la fois soufi et homme du blâme. Le ‘premier des philosophes’ Abû Hamid al-Ghâzalî (-1111) est devenu soufi : il est l’auteur du bref Al-Munqid, ‘Erreur et délivrance’, autobiographie spirituelle et témoignage du grand philosophe éveillé à la mystique ¹⁰ (son frère Ahmad, probablement à l’origine de la conversion du philosophe, fut un soufi éminent). Ibn ‘Arabî demeure le ‘premier des soufis’, né en Andalousie, mort à Damas, d’influence immense¹¹.

Répartition des principales figures mystiques

Voici par régions géographiques les principales figures d’une foule innombrable. Sur les 35 noms retenus, la moitié vivent entre 1000 et 1300, grande période des civilisations urbaines arabe et perse, finalement presque détruites par les Mongols (les invasions de Gengis Khan se situent autour de 1220), auxquels succédèrent des Turco-Mongols (Tamerlan / Timur exerce ses ravages autour de 1400). Double coup de hache avant et après des pestes particulièrement meurtrières dans les villes.

Verso et page suivante

« CARTE DES LIEUX » selon des zones réparties en six colonnes de l’ouest vers l’est et en deux rangées du nord au sud. On retient les lieux présumés de naissance et de décès. On n’oubliera pas la mobilité d’un Ibn ‘Arabî (de Murcie à Damas !) ou de Ghâzalî le Philosophe (Tus, Bagdad, Damas, Nishapour, Tus) ou de Jîlî (de Bagdad en Inde ?). Une figure est alors présente deux fois (lien signalé par un « > »). Le nom figure en caractères gras au lieu de « séjour » privilégié.

On n’oubliera pas que les entités politiques arabes puis turques étaient seules en contact avec le monde chrétien : elles ont fait écran à notre connaissance des mondes musulmans de la Perse, de l’Asie centrale et de l’Inde, eux-mêmes étrangers et souvent hostiles aux mondes arabes et turcs ¹². L’image d’une infinie variété affectant les vécus et les pensées doit être substituée à la vision mythique d’un « grand califat » réglé par le seul Coran. Cette variété s’explique par la situation centrale des régions concernées, constituant un carrefour si on la compare à l’excentrement et au relatif isolement d’une presqu’île européenne chrétienne avant sa domination maritime, d’une péninsule indienne, d’une plaine chinoise protégée des zones civilisées par des déserts brûlants ou glacés. Nous distinguons plusieurs appartenances ou groupes : (1) à prédominance soufie, (2) à prédominance marquée par les « hommes du blâme », (3) non classés dont des mystiques d’Afrique du nord, (4) influencés par une théosophie. 

Les mystiques musulmans (Marijan Molé)

AVERTISSEMENT

Le présent livre¹³ ne prétend pas être une histoire du soufisme ; son format ne le permettrait pas, et il n'est pas encore possible de l'entreprendre. Trop de textes importants restent inédits et trop de facteurs nous échappent. Notre but a été d'en présenter les grandes lignes et de suggérer, sur certains points, la voie dans laquelle le développement de recherches nous paraît devoir être fructueux. Mais nous ne donnons pas de solutions aux problèmes abordés.

Notre présentation suit le cadre chronologique, mais sans rigidité. Là notamment où l'examen d'un problème général à propos d'un mystique nous paraissait l'exiger, nous n'avons pas hésité à poursuivre le développement et à anticiper sur l'époque suivante. D'autre part, aux différentes époques, nous avons concentré notre attention sur quelques problèmes qui se sont posés aux soufis, l'influence chiite et la réaction sunnite, l'expérience mystique et la doctrine de l'être. Sur ce dernier point, nous croyons avoir donné une interprétation nouvelle, mais qui aura besoin d'une élaboration plus poussée dans un travail plus technique. Ce problème permet également d'entrevoir une liaison plus grande et plus intime entre la théorie et la pratique soufies, entre la méta-

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physique de l'être, la conception de l'extase mystique et la coutume du samâ cette liaison étant fondée sur la représentation du « Covenant » primordial.

Ceci nous a conduit à consacrer quelques développements au samâ, mais nous n'en donnons pas une description exhaustive. Nous n'analysons pas non plus la Voie soufie, ses pratiques, ses rites, ses institutions. Ces problèmes seront traités ailleurs.

CHAPITRE PREMIER LA PRÉHISTOIRE

Le mysticisme islamique présente pour l'observateur européen des difficultés considérables. La difficulté intrinsèque de comprendre une religion étrangère n'est pas la moindre. A quel point m'est-il possible de connaître une expérience religieuse, individuelle par définition, qui non seulement n'est pas la mienne, mais encore se développe à l'intérieur d'un système dont les coordonnées ne me sont pas familières ? L'entreprise exige un effort considérable ; tout en restant lui-même, le chercheur doit se mettre dans la situation de ceux qu'il étudie et suivre leur expérience de l'intérieur.

Les difficultés que présente l'islam sont d'un autre ordre que celles auxquelles nous avons affaire en abordant les religions de l'Inde ou de l'Extrême-Orient, nées dans un milieu culturel qui n'a eu, avec celui d'où est sortie notre civilisation, que des rapports sporadiques et extrêmement lointains. Sur ces domaines, avant de pénétrer dans l'univers de ces religions, un Occidental doit d'abord s'approprier un langage conceptuel dont il sait d'avance qu'aucun terme ne recouvre exactement la valeur de celui qui, dans sa propre langue, a une acception voisine ; et

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que tout le système des références et la hiérarchie de valeurs sur quoi ce langage est fondé diffèrent profondément de ceux auxquels il est habitué.

Le cas de l'islam est différent. La plus grande partie des éléments dont est bâti son système religieux sont les mêmes que ceux qui entrent dans la structure des systèmes juif et chrétien, tandis que la philosophie islamique dérive en grande partie des mêmes sources que la scolastique médiévale ; la mystique musulmane continue, en partie, les traditions des mystiques hellénistique et chrétienne. Mais ces éléments communs n'ont ni la même valeur ni la même place dans le système islamique que dans le système chrétien. L'islam n'est pas un christianisme imparfait, ni le christianisme un islam imparfait ; chacune de ces deux religions a une structure sui generis qui se suffit à elle-même et dont les différents éléments doivent être compris et jugés selon les critères qui lui sont propres.

Ces réflexions valent notamment pour le problème si controversé des origines du soufisme. Sa théorie contient plusieurs éléments qui sont connus d'autres religions et les pratiques soufies évoquent, plus d'une fois, certains usages analogues des moines chrétiens ou bouddhistes. Mais les soufis n'ont jamais voulu être autre chose que des musulmans ; toutes les doctrines qu'ils professent, et tous leurs gestes, coutumes et usages, s'appuient sur une interprétation du Coran et de la tradition prophétique. Il y a là deux plans à distinguer. Dans leur intention, les soufis ne font autre chose que méditer sur la révélation coranique et pratiquent, avec ferveur, le culte musulman. Mais, au moment de la conquête arabe, la population du Proche-Orient professe d'autres religions et ne s'islamise que progressivement ; la masse des musulmans au début de l'époque abbasside est constituée par les convertis chrétiens, mazdéens, manichéens, etc. En adoptant la nouvelle religion dominante, ces hommes n'ont pas, du jour au lendemain, oublié leurs traditions ni changé leur façon de penser. L'influence du substrat religieux préislamique sur l'islam dans la période formative de ce dernier ne s'est pas exercée uniquement par contact direct entre théologiens chrétiens et conquérants arabes, mais aussi par la persistance, au-delà du changement de credo, de certaines formes sociales et de certaines structures qui s'insèrent désormais dans un contexte nouveau et y retrouvent un sens nouveau.

La tradition sur Salmân Farsî, « le barbier perse », ou Salmân-i Pâk « le barbier pur », a ici la valeur d'un symbole. Fils d'un mage, Rôzbih douta de la religion de ses ancêtres et partit à la recherche du vrai prophète. Il se fit tout d'abord moine chrétien ; puis, familier de Muhammad, il accepta sa religion, et devint son client et son compagnon, voire son confident. Le Prophète aurait dit à son sujet : « Salmân fait partie de nous, gens de la maison », et cette phrase, comprise comme le prototype de l'adoption spirituelle et de l'initiation, joua un grand rôle dans l'ésotérisme islamique. Confident de ‘Ali, il se serait opposé à l'élection d'Abû Bakr au califat ; d'autres traditions, visiblement sunnites, en font par contre un confident d'Abû Bakr, et son disciple : et c'est à ce titre qu'il est revendiqué comme ancêtre spirituel par certaines congrégations sou fies. Il serait mort

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à Madá'în, l'ancienne Ctésiphon, capitale de l'empire des Sassanides. On montre en tout cas sa tombe, objet de pèlerinage, non loin des ruines de cette ville.

Quelle que soit la réalité historique qu'ils recèlent, les récits sur Salmân ont une valeur de symbole : le barbier perse, le client ‘adjami admis dans la famille prophétique, le patron de petits artisans qui peuplent depuis des temps immémoriaux les bazars des grandes villes du Proche-Orient, ne représente-t-il pas ces milliers de mawâli non arabes, dont l'adhésion à l'islam permit à ce dernier de surmonter la tentation de n'être qu'un autre judaïsme, une religion réservée aux conquérants arabes, et de s'épanouir pleinement comme une religion universelle qui ne connaît pas de barrière de race ? Son adhésion à la nouvelle foi est entière et sa sincérité ne saurait être mise en doute. Mais, né mazdéen, converti au christianisme, Salmân a-t-il tout oublié de son passé au moment où il devient musulman ?

Voyons la carte religieuse des pays où va se former la nouvelle civilisation : la Perse, l'Iraq, la Syrie et l'Égypte à la veille de la conquête arabe. Des cultes anciens subsistent ici et là, mais la plus grande partie du territoire en question a été soumise au double nivellement hellénistique et chrétien ; ceci apparaît immédiatement pour sa partie occidentale, politiquement romaine, mais la double empreinte est sensible également dans l'Empire perse. La résistance des anciennes religions est inégale ; rien ne subsiste plus de celle de l'ancienne Égypte, du paganisme grec, des cultes syriens. Les Harraniens se rattachent sans doute beaucoup plus à la philosophie néoplatonicienne qu'à ces derniers. Seule des anciennes religions nationales, le mazdéisme est encore vivant. Le christianisme a pourtant pénétré dans l'Empire perse ; malgré les persécutions, l'Église nestorienne de Perse est majoritaire parmi la population araméenne de l'Iraq et son activité missionnaire la porte en Iran proprement dit, en Transoxiane et, au-delà, jusqu'en Chine.

A la veille de la conquête, la Perse n'est donc pas exclusivement mazdéenne. Le mazdéisme, d'autre part, n'est pas homogène. Il vient de traverser une crise qui a laissé de profondes blessures et amené la naissance d'une nouvelle religion, le mazdakisme. D'une façon générale, l'attraction spirituelle du mazdéisme est épuisée et sa vitalité religieuse bien entamée. Lorsque les mystiques persans parleront de la « taverne des mages » et se proclameront « mazdéens », il s'agira uniquement d'un « chiffre » pour « mauvaise religion », ce qui n'implique ni contact direct, ni, à plus forte raison, influence du mazdéisme sur la mystique islamique.

A l'époque qui nous intéresse, les provinces orientales de la Perse sont bouddhistes. Il est très malaisé de discerner ici les influences possibles. Certaines analogies peuvent s'expliquer par une parenté élémentaire. Le chapelet est d'origine indienne, certains détails du costume soufi peut-être également. La légende d'Ibrâhim Adham est bien d'origine bouddhique, mais son modèle direct, le Roman de Barlaam et Budasaf, a été transmis par les manichéens d'Asie centrale. Quoi qu'il en soit, des survivances bouddhiques sont a priori possibles ; il n'en est pas de même de prétendues infiltrations védântines. Dans la période formative de la civilisation islamique, on

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voit mal leur assise territoriale. L'essai récent de retrouver du Védânta chez Abû Yazid Bistâmî doit être considéré comme un échec.

Les manichéens sont nombreux. Aux premiers siècles de l'islam, ils représenteront un danger réel pour la nouvelle religion et la polémique contre eux sera à la fois acerbe et féconde. Des infiltrations manichéennes dans le soufisme sont possibles ; la désignation fréquente de saints soufis comme des siddîqîn peut continuer un usage manichéen. Il n'y a pas lieu, en revanche, de tirer de conclusions précises du fait que des soufis ont été accusés, ici ou là, d'être zindîk. A cette époque, ce terme désigne certes avant tout les manichéens, mais aussi, par extension, tous ceux qui sont, de quelque façon que ce soit, suspects à l'orthodoxie islamique ; l'accusation est on ne peut plus ambiguë.

D'autres sectes gnostiques doivent subsister : les mandéens de nos jours en offrent un échantillon. Certaines de ces sectes se rattachent plus ou moins au christianisme. Des judéo-chrétiens doivent survivre en bordure du désert arabe. Les juifs sont disséminés à travers tout le territoire et forment des communautés importantes en Iraq, en Perse, en Égypte et en Syrie.

C'est pourtant le christianisme qui occupe la place la plus importante. Les controverses christologiques du V^e siècle ont brisé l'unité de l'Église officielle. L'Église de Perse est nestorienne, celles d'Arménie et d'Égypte, la plus grande partie de celle de la Syrie byzantine, celle d'Éthiopie, sont, au contraire, monophysites. Persécutés par les empereurs, les monophysites accueilleront les Arabes comme libérateurs ; un essai de compromis, presque contemporain de la conquête, n'aboutira pas à sauver la situation, mais amènera la naissance d'une troisième Église syriaque, l'Église maronite. Face aux monophysites et aux nestoriens, les partisans du concile de Chalcédoine sont beaucoup moins nombreux. Étroitement unis à la Grande Église de Constantinople, ils sont connus sous le nom de melkites, « les impériaux ».

Ces différences dogmatiques ont pour nous ici beaucoup moins d'importance que certains phénomènes, certains traits de structure qui sont communs aux trois Églises en question : le monachisme et l'ascétisme extrêmement puissants et vigoureux, aussi bien en Égypte que dans les pays de langue syriaque, et à l'intérieur de ce monachisme, certains mouvements et courants de pensée hétérodoxes qui présentent des analogies frappantes avec certains courants soufis ; je pense en premier lieu à l'origénisme et au messalianisme.

Le monachisme syriaque se distingue de son homologue égyptien par plusieurs traits notables. A l'époque la plus ancienne, nous avons affaire à une organisation d'ascètes libres, vivant parmi les autres, et ne se distinguant d'eux que par des pratiques ascétiques, supplémentaires et, notamment, par la continence absolue. Ces ascètes, benai qeyâmâ « fils du covenant », vivent en mariage spirituel avec des vierges ascètes. Plus tard, lorsque aura prévalu une organisation ecclésiastique analogue à celle des communautés grecques, l'institution des benai qeyâmâ disparaîtra, mais non sans laisser de traces. La phase suivante du monachisme syriaque est formée, comme en Égypte, par l'anachorétisme ; finalement, le cénobitisme prévaut, comme ailleurs.

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L'ascétisme syriaque se signale par des mortifications exceptionnellement rudes ; les performances des stylites sont connues, et elles ne sont pas isolées. Dans des cas limites, le mépris de la chair pouvait aller jusqu'à la mort volontaire dans les flammes. La pauvreté était considérée comme une vertu, et l'ascète parfait abandonnait tout ce qu'il possédait pour se confier entièrement à Dieu. La vie errante en était le corollaire fréquent.

Ne possédant rien, n'ayant pas où poser sa tête, sale, vêtu de loques, le moine errant était un pneumatique. Alors que son apparence extérieure semblait devoir l'exposer au mépris de tous, il atteignait des états mystiques élevés et, notamment, contemplait des visions spirituelles.

Un des phénomènes caractéristiques de cette mystique est l'apparition d'ascètes qui, par leur comportement extérieur, font tout pour s'attirer le blâme de leurs semblables. Ils se comportent de façon que les autres les croient les pires des hommes : leur coeur est pur et ils ont tout abandonné pour Dieu, même leur réputation.

On connaît la captivante histoire que rapporte, au milieu du VI^e siècle de notre ère, le monophysite Jean d'Éphèse dans le chapitre 52 de ses Vies des saints orientaux. Le narrateur, Jean d'Amide, a vu dans sa ville deux jeunes gens qui se comportaient comme des bouffons, plaisantaient avec tout le monde et recevaient des coups. Le garçon portait le costume d'un mime, la fille celui d'une courtisane. Les grands de la ville voulaient l'enfermer dans un lupanar, car personne ne savait où les deux jeunes gens passaient la nuit. Le garçon déclara alors que la fille était sa

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femme et la sauva ainsi ; une dame pieuse voulut s'occuper d'elle, mais n'arriva pas à percer le secret du couple. Or, Jean se mit à les observer et finit par les voir prier la nuit. Après lui avoir fait jurer de ne trahir à personne leur véritable état, ils lui confièrent leur secret. Ils s'appelaient Théophile et Marie et appartenaient à de nobles familles d'Antioche. Lorsque Théophile eut quinze ans, son père lui ordonna un jour d'aller à la campagne. Il se rendit à l'écurie pour prendre quelques chevaux. Il vit alors des rayons de lumière qui sortaient de l'écurie. Il s'approcha et regarda à travers le trou de la porte : un pauvre homme se tenait debout sur le fumier et priait, les mains tendues vers le ciel. Des rayons de lumière sortaient de sa bouche et de ses doigts. Théophile se jeta aux genoux de l'inconnu et lui demanda de lui confier son secret. C'était un Romain, nommé Procope, d'une famille de notables. Avant que son père le mariât, il avait tout abandonné et commencé une vie errante qui l'avait amené jusqu'en Orient. Si Théophile a vu des rayons de lumière émaner de lui, c'est que Dieu veut son salut. Avant un an, ses parents et ceux de Marie mourront. Ils abandonneront la fortune qu'ils auront reçue en héritage, se consacreront uniquement à Dieu et adopteront un déguisement sous lequel personne ne pourra les reconnaître. Aussi longtemps qu'ils le garderont, ils pourront gagner de grands mérites et vivre une vie spirituelle. D'autre part, aussi longtemps qu'il ne lui témoignera aucune marque de respect, et qu'il le laissera tel qu'il est, au milieu du fumier, Théophile pourra le voir ; sinon, il s'en ira et il ne le reverra jamais. Tout se passa comme l'avait dit Procope ; après la mort

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de leurs parents, Théophile et Marie abandonnèrent tout, se consacrèrent entièrement à Dieu et se déguisèrent en bouffons. C'est ainsi que, priant en secret, gardant une chasteté absolue, ils s'exposent toute la journée au blâme et au mépris des hommes. Théophile répète ici à son interlocuteur la mise en garde que Procope lui avait adressée : aussi longtemps qu'il ne leur témoignera aucune marque de respect, qu'il ne les traitera pas, en public, autrement que les autres, il pourra les revoir. Sinon, ils disparaîtront et il ne les reverra jamais.

Pour la préhistoire de la mystique islamique, ce récit est intéressant à plusieurs égards. Retenons-en deux. Des saints vivent parmi les hommes, inconnus et méprisés. Personne ne les reconnaît comme tels, ils ne se révèlent qu'à des élus, destinés à mener la même vie qu'eux et à atteindre la même perfection. C'est, à l'état embryonnaire, la conception qui sera à la base de la représentation soufie d'une hiérarchie invisible d'Amis de Dieu qui passent leur vie ignorés de tout le monde, mais sans lesquels le monde ne pourrait exister.

Le second aspect est étroitement lié au premier. C'est l'idée de la sitûtâ, « mépris », « blâme » : non seulement le saint parfait doit mener une vie qui ne permette pas aux autres de deviner son état, mais il se fait même insulter, passe pour un fou (satê), se considère comme le pire de tous et agit en conséquence. Ce sera le principe même des malâmatîya islamiques.

Un des documents les plus curieux de la littérature mystique syriaque, les plus controversés aussi, le Livre des degrés (Ketâbâ de-masqâtâ), donne une justi-

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fication doctrinale de ce comportement. En bref, il s'agit d'une imitation parfaite du Christ. Le parfait a tout abandonné, il n'a pas où poser sa tête. Il s'est confié entièrement à Dieu et vit dans la chasteté absolue. Il se considère comme le pire des hommes, se mêle à tout le monde, est « tout avec tous », sans juger personne. Ayant renoncé à tout, il ne pense qu'à Dieu. L'Esprit Saint, le Paraclet, vient habiter en lui et il retrouve la perfection qu'a possédée Adam avant sa chute.

Cette perfection n'est pas le fait de tous les chrétiens dont le Ketâbâ demasqâtâ distingue deux catégories les justes (kênê ou zaddîqê) et les parfaits (gemîrê). L'Écriture contient deux sortes de prescriptions : celle de la justice et celle de la perfection. Les faibles, qui sont comme des enfants, doivent suivre les premières, qui sont pour eux comme le lait maternel. Ils pardonneront à leurs ennemis, donneront des aumônes, prendront une seule femme, éviteront le contact des méchants et observeront certaines prescriptions alimentaires. C'est la loi seconde, celle qui fut donnée à Adam après sa chute. Mais les parfaits vivront une vie purement spirituelle. Ils aimeront tout le monde, ami ou ennemi, entreront partout et seront « tout avec tous ». Ayant tout abandonné, ils ne donneront pas d'aumônes visibles — puisqu'ils ne possèdent rien —, mangeront tous les aliments et observeront une chasteté absolue. La loi de la justice suffit pour le salut posthume ; mais seule l'observation de celle de la perfection permet d'obtenir l'inhabitation de l'Esprit Saint et d'atteindre, après la mort, un degré plus élevé.

Une conception métaphysique spécifique est à

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l'arrière-plan de cette distinction. Dieu a créé deux mondes, le monde visible et le monde invisible ; le premier n'est que le symbole du second. Il y a de même deux églises : l'église visible et l'église spirituelle invisible. La première, qui est comme une éducatrice, est le symbole de la seconde. Ses rites, ses sacrements, sont l'image de sacrements spirituels : le baptême visible est nécessaire, mais il n'est que l'image du baptême spirituel qui seul confère la perfection et dont le résultat est la venue du Paraclet. Les parfaits tiennent d'ailleurs fermement à l'église visible et à son ministère : elle est comme un chemin qu'il faut nécessairement emprunter, mais qui ne suffit pas.

Les rapports qu'établit le Livre des degrés entre le monde visible et le monde invisible, entre les sacrements de l'Église catholique et les sacrements spirituels, sont, compte tenu des différences de climat religieux, exactement superposables à ceux que le soufisme et les sectes shiites extrémistes reconnaissent entre le zâhir et le bâtin, entre la lettre de la Loi et la vérité profonde des choses.

On sait que le Ketâbâ de-masqâtâ passe en général pour refléter les doctrines des messaliens. Ce nom syriaque — auquel correspond le nom grec d'euchites — désigne la secte d'après la pratique qui paraît la plus caractéristique, la prière perpétuelle, qui seule, au dire des hérésiographes, permettait de chasser du coeur de l'homme le démon qui y habite à la suite du péché originel. Il s'agit d'un mouvement ascétique, répandu dans tout le Proche-Orient mais plus particulièrement en Syrie et en Mésopotamie, entre le IV^e et le IX^e siècle de notre ère. Condamnés par le

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concile d' Éphèse (431), les messaliens ne nous sont connus que par les notices de leurs adversaires, ainsi que, probablement, par deux documents : les Homélies du pseudo-Macaire (que l'on restitue maintenant au messalien Syméon de Mésopotamie) et le Livre des degrés. La divergence la plus importante entre ces écrits et les notices des hérésiographes porte sur l'appréciation du rôle de l'Église visible et de ses sacrements. Alors que le Livre des degrés l'exalte et insiste sur la nécessité de la pratique extérieure, les messaliens, selon leurs adversaires, mépriseraient l'Église et estimeraient que la pratique de ses sacrements ne peut ni nuire ni profiter ; ils assisteraient en conséquence aux cérémonies de l'Église, mais sans leur attacher d'importance. Cette affirmation peut n'être qu'une déformation malveillante de la première. D'autre part, le messalianisme n'a sans doute jamais formé une secte organisée ; il s'agissait bien plutôt d'un courant d'idées parmi les moines. Des nuances de pensée, des divergences d'attitude sont possibles. Certains messaliens ont pu estimer que la vie sacramentelle de l'Église constituait une propédeutique nécessaire à la vie spirituelle ; d'autres, qu'elle était dénuée de toute valeur intrinsèque.

Cette attitude continue, en fait, celle que le christianisme paulinien a adoptée envers la loi de Moïse. Seulement, les prescriptions de l'Ancien Testament et les sacrements de l'Église tels le baptême et l'Eucharistie sont mis sur le même plan. La confusion a été d'autant plus facile que — le Livre des degrés en fait foi — le christianisme syriaque avait dû garder, aux premiers siècles, une partie des pres-

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criptions et des coutumes juives, notamment dans le domaine alimentaire. Il importe de souligner ici l'importance des paroles de saint Paul sur l'insuffisance des oeuvres que n'accompagne pas la charité : le Ketâbâ de-masqâtâ appelle en effet la loi de la perfection également « la loi de la charité (hubâ) ».

Le prolongement islamique est le seul qui nous intéresse ici. Très tôt, la distinction de deux catégories d'Amis de Dieu commence à s'imposer. Un des plus anciens théoriciens du soufisme, Muhammad ibn ‘Alî al-Tirmidhî (mort en 285 h.), connaît deux sortes d'awliyâ : le walî selon le sidq Allâh, « justice ou loi de Dieu », et le walî selon la minnah, l'action de grâce. Le premier observe scrupuleusement et laborieusement la Loi révélée, ce qui lui permet d'échapper à la damnation et d'avoir une place au paradis. Le second ne désire que Dieu. Il pratique, certes, les obligations de la Loi, mais il est libre et, dès cette vie, transcende sa condition individuelle : le Trône du Seigneur s'installe dans son coeur et il jouit de la contemplation. C'est à son propos que Tirmidhî commente le célèbre hadîth selon lequel Dieu devient la vue, l'ouïe, la main, le coeur de ceux qu'il aime et qui se sont rapprochés de lui.

Or, un reproche fait aux messaliens est qu'ils prétendaient voir Dieu de leurs yeux. Le Livre des degrés permet de nuancer : lorsque l'Esprit Saint est installé dans l'âme du parfait, il voit Dieu dans son coeur comme dans un miroir. Pour arriver à cet état, il faut s'y préparer par la prière, le jeûne, les pratiques ascétiques. Mais la perfection n'est pas automatiquement assurée, Dieu seul la donne : on peut parfois

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passer des dizaines d'années à pratiquer l'ascèse sans jamais atteindre la perfection.

D'autres témoignages parlent d'apparitions, de photismes ; le phénomène n'est pas limité au messalianisme, mais ce dernier semble lui attacher beaucoup de prix. En réfutant les messaliens, Diadoque de Photicée essaie de réduire la portée de ces manifestations. On leur reproche de rechercher des visions, d'en faire le but même de la vie mystique, de croire que la prière perpétuelle seule amène infailliblement les états mystiques. Le reproche est injustifié si l'on se rapporte au Livre des degrés ou aux Homélies du pseudo-Macaire ; mais un reproche identique sera formulé à l'encontre des soufis, celui de rechercher l'extase pour elle-même et de la provoquer artificiellement et notamment par la pratique du dhikr, « souvenir » ou « mention » de Dieu, la répétition inlassable d'un nom de Dieu.

Ce qu'était la prière perpétuelle des messaliens, nous l'ignorons. Nous savons, par contre, qu'une pratique analogue à celle du dhikr musulman était (ou plutôt est) courante chez les mystiques chrétiens orientaux : la prière monologistos, le souvenir de Dieu (mnêmê Theou) ou de Jésus. Elle est connue plusieurs siècles avant la naissance de l'islam : Nil, Cassien, Diadoque de Photicée, Jean Climaque, les hésychastes en portent témoignage. Mais la liaison de ces pratiques avec des exercices respiratoires n'est positivement attestée, aussi bien chez les moines chrétiens que chez les soufis, qu'à une époque beaucoup plus tardive, où des influences venues d'Extrême-Orient sont possibles en islam, d'où elles ont pu rayonner sur le christianisme byzantin. Ces

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techniques s'insèrent dans des contextes théologiques différents de part et d'autre ; la pratique de la « mention » du nom divin est justifiée par des références scripturaires propres à chacune des deux religions. Le but du dhikr est de purifier l'âme, de la vider entièrement de la pensée de tout ce qui n'est pas Dieu ; sa pratique est accompagnée de visions de lumières et d'autres phénomènes semblables — dont la description est analogue chez les hésychastes et les soufis —, mais ni chez les uns ni chez les autres il ne s'agit d'un moyen court, d'une technique amenant infailliblement et en vertu de ses qualités intrinsèques jusqu'à l'union à Dieu, ainsi que le leur reprochent leurs adversaires. Ce reproche sera repoussé aussi bien par Grégoire Palamas que par les théoriciens soufis.

Un dernier point commun entre les messaliens et les soufis, mais dont il est très difficile de connaître quelque chose de précis, la danse. Une danse sacrée paraît avoir été pratiquée par des messaliens dont l'un des noms était celui de Choreutes. Selon Théodoret de Cyr, au V^e siècle, ils se réunissaient pour sauter, en se vantant de sauter par-dessus les démons. Saint Jean de Damas connaît une secte d'Hicètes qui se réunissent dans des monastères, récitent des hymnes et dansent. Une danse en règle est attestée pour les méléciens d'Égypte, mais il ne s'agit pas là de messaliens. Faut-il y voir le modèle des séances de sama’ si répandues parmi les derviches musulmans et dont les exemples classiques sont la danse des Mawlawîya (« derviches tourneurs ») et celle des ‘Isawîya (« Aïssaoua ») du Maroc ?

Quoi qu'il en soit de ce dernier point, les quelques ressemblances entre les conceptions messaliennes et soufies nous paraissent dignes d'intérêt. C'est notamment la distinction des deux classes établie par le Livre des degrés qui est proche de celle que nous fera connaître le mysticisme islamique ; et, tout comme dans l'écrit syriaque, la classe des parfaits sera caractérisée par leur sitûtâ, les plus parfaits des Amis de Dieu étant ceux qui acceptent la malâma, le blâme. La distinction entre une Église visible et une Église invisible est directement liée à cette classification ; mais, dans le Ketâbâ de-masqâtâ, elle n'implique pas une interprétation ésotérique de l'Écriture, réservée aux parfaits. Cette interprétation sera très répandue en islam, comme elle l'avait été dans la littérature patristique. Si donc connexion historique il y a, ce n'est pas le messalianisme qu'il faut nécessairement invoquer comme intermédiaire.

Cette méthode d'exégèse de l'écriture fut pratiquée avec le plus d'ampleur par les néoplatonistes chrétiens d'Alexandrie, Clément et Origène. Solidaire d'une philosophie mystique, elle se répandit dans le monachisme chrétien d'Égypte et du Proche-Orient. Dans l'islam, elle fut pratiquée aussi bien par les soufis que par les différents courants shiites, en particulier les ismaéliens. Le Coran lui-même fournit quelques précédents : les histoires des prophètes anciens n'y sont pas rapportées par intérêt historique, mais comme préfigurations de la carrière de Muhammad, de ses épreuves et du châtiment de ses ennemis. La plus ancienne exégèse ésotérique du Coran, notamment chez les ismaéliens, suit d'assez près les mêmes lignes que la typologie patristique. Les soufis, eux, chercheront à fonder leur spiritualité

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sur une exégèse mystique des versets coraniques, les rapportant aux événements intérieurs de l'âme. La typologie ne sera pas oubliée ; tout comme, depuis Philon jusqu'à Grégoire de Nysse, les mystiques chrétiens et juifs ont vu dans la vie de Moïse le symbole de l'itinéraire de l'âme vers Dieu, les soufis considéreront la vie, la carrière et l'oeuvre de différents prophètes comme des manifestations de différents attributs divins, attributs dont la somme se reflète dans l'image de l'Homme Parfait, l'Homme Intégral, en qui Dieu se contemple comme dans un miroir.

Le but de l'ascèse est, chez les moines chrétiens, la gnose, cette connaissance supérieure et intuitive qui conduit à l'union avec Dieu où qui équivaut à celle-ci. Cette gnose n'est pas nécessairement hétérodoxe et c'est sans doute beaucoup plus à la gnose au sens où l'entendent les moines égyptiens qu'à la gnose « classique » que se rattache le concept soufi de la ma’rifa qui, pareillement, doit résulter d'une ascèse rigoureuse.

Ascèse et visions, mystique intellectualiste et gnose, disparition de l'homme dans l'Un indifférencié au terme de l'ascension, ces concepts jouent un grand rôle dans la doctrine de l'origéniste Évagre le Pontique dont l'influence fut grande. Bien que condamnées, ses doctrines furent pour une bonne part conservées, en partie en grec, mais beaucoup plus en traduction syriaque et arménienne. Ceci concerne notamment son principal ouvrage, les Centuries gnostiques, dont la version intégrale vient seulement d'être retrouvée et publiée, mais qui ont agi surtout sous une forme remaniée. D'autres ouvrages d'Évagre ont été également répandus dans l'Orient syriaque et des fragments de son Antirrhétique ont été retrouvés en sogdien. Ce dernier fait est particulièrement important, puisqu'il montre que l'influence origéniste s'est exercée au-delà même des frontières orientales des territoires qui devaient devenir le centre de la civilisation islamique dans sa période formative.

Chez les Syriens occidentaux, le représentant le plus connu de la mystique hétérodoxe fut Étienne bar Sudailê, auteur présumé du Livre d'Hiérothée chez qui l'influence origéniste est très sensible. L'ascension de l'âme, à travers l'identification avec le Christ souffrant, aboutit chez lui à une complète identification avec l'intellect universel. A travers le Dieu Premier, cette identification vise la Déité indifférenciée et supérieure à tout.

Origénisme et messalianisme se rejoignent dans la dernière grande floraison de la mystique nestorienne, au l^er siècle de l'islam, dont les rapports avec la mystique musulmane devraient être examinés de plus près. Les deux mouvements vivent longtemps en symbiose. Peu à peu, la direction des échanges s'intervertit : elle ira désormais de l'islam vers le christianisme. Ce dernier perd progressivement sa prépondérance numérique et intellectuelle. Au IV^e ou V^e siècle de l'hégire, des chrétiens se mettront à l'école des musulmans. A l'époque mongole, le dernier grand nom de la littérature syriaque, le maphrien jacobite Grégoire Barhebraeus, dans ses écrits mystiques, s'inspirera directement de Ghazali.

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NOTE BIBLIOGRAPHIQUE [excellente et complète, ici omise]

CHAPITRE II LES ORIGINES

Plus qu'une doctrine, l'islam est une règle de vie. La vie quotidienne d'un musulman est marquée par une série d'obligations strictes dont l'accomplissement scrupuleux lui garantit le salut dans l'autre monde et le désigne comme membre de la communauté islamique : profession de foi ; prière, cinq fois par jour, la face tournée en direction de la Kaaba ; jeûne du mois de ramadan ; aumône légale ; pèlerinage de La Mecque.

Cette discipline forme le cadre de la vie d'un musulman. Loin d'être vide de sacré, celle-ci en est pleine. Contrairement à ce qu'on dit très souvent, l'islam n'est pas un déisme rationnel, un pur monothéisme sans clergé ni sacrements. Pour le croyant, il est une loi révélée qui doit être acceptée dans sa substance et dans sa forme, sans qu'il en demande le pourquoi, bi-lâ kaifa. Il l'assume telle qu'elle est et se soumet à la volonté inscrutable de Dieu qui l'a donnée : il est un muslim. Ce caractère gratuit de l'islam, l'absence d'explication rationnelle de ses prescriptions, rassure le fidèle : sa religion vient d'un Dieu qui fait ce qu'il veut, dont la volonté n'a pas

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à être sondée, qui fait naître et mourir, dont, tout vient et à qui tout aboutit.

Vécue par le croyant, cette discipline contient en elle-même un germe de la vie mystique. Si déjà la vie du simple fidèle est remplie du sacré, combien plus le sera celle des hommes qui ont choisi de se consacrer exclusivement au service de Dieu, qui, en plus de l'accomplissement des obligations communes, s'imposent des pratiques surrérogatoires et dont Dieu est la seule et unique pensée ! Déjà le Coran mentionne des pratiques louables qui ne sont pas prescrites à tout le monde. Les prières nocturnes ont dû jouer un grand rôle dans la communauté primitive de Médine ; elles ne sont pas devenues obligatoires, mais leur caractère d'oeuvres pies a toujours été reconnu. Ces veillées nocturnes, tahajjud, seront pratiquées avec prédilection par les mystiques.

La prière rituelle elle-même recèle des virtualités dont les mystiques n'ont pas manqué de tirer profit. Elle comporte bien un minimum de récitation du Coran : la Fâtiha et trois versets d'une autre sourate ; mais il n'y a pas de maximum, et le croyant pieux peut réciter autant de texte sacré qu'il le peut. A cela s'ajoute la pratique fréquente, dès les premiers temps de l'islam, de la lecture en commun du Coran en dehors même de la prière. Lire et réciter le Coran est, par excellence, une oeuvre pie et le mérite en est grand : quelle prière saurait être comparée à la récitation de la parole de Dieu ?

Pour le croyant, le Coran est la parole de Dieu -- non pas un livre inspiré comme la Bible, où l'on peut discuter de la validité de tel ou tel passage, admettre ou contester l'attribution de tel livre à tel auteur sacré, distinguer des genres littéraires et limiter éventuellement la portée des récits historiques sans pour autant manquer de foi. Le Coran est la parole de Dieu, il faut le prendre tel qu'il est, en entier, sans distinction, même si l'on admet ensuite que certains de ses versets en abrogent d'autres, précédemment révélés.

C'est, pour l'immense majorité de la communauté musulmane, une parole incréée. Les mu’tazilites resteront à peu près isolés dans leur tentative d'affirmer le contraire, et l'échec de la mihna abbaside pour imposer par la force le dogme du Coran créé sonna le glas de cette école. Pour les as’arites, l'épithète d'incréé s'appliquera en propre au prototype céleste du Coran, à la Mère du Livre (umm al-kitâb), consignée sur la Tablette bien gardée (Law al-mahfûz), dont le Coran arabe est une traduction en langage humain comme l'ont été, avant lui, la Bible, le Psautier et l'Évangile. La position moyenne sera celle qui estimera que le texte du Livre est incréé, mais que sa récitation ne l'est pas : « Ce qui est écrit, appris par coeur ou récité est incréé, le fait d'écrire, d'apprendre par coeur, de réciter est créé. » Mais les plus intransigeants parmi les hanbalites iront plus loin : « Est incréé tout ce qui se trouve entre les deux reliures », et toute récitation du Coran est elle-même incréée. Le croyant qui récite le livre sacré accomplit une action incréée de Dieu — ce qui montre que, dès le départ, le problème de l'unicité de l'être ne se pose pas en islam de la même façon que dans le christianisme.

On ne lit pas le Coran comme on lit la Bible. Le but de la lecture n'est pas de saisir le sens d'un récit

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en tant que tel, d'apprendre une histoire. Les récits sur les prophètes d'autrefois qu'il contient ne veulent pas être des récits historiques. Rapportés dans un but homilétique évident, ce sont des paraboles où les péripéties des anciens prophètes permettent de dégager une image type de l'expérience prophétique, image qui permet de tirer un enseignement toujours valable et qui peut être appliqué à la carrière de Muhammad. Même ici, il ne s'agit pas de narration continue : ce sont de brefs éclairs, des rappels d'événements apparemment connus, des allusions discrètes. Lues et hautement estimées, les Vies des Prophètes, même celle du Prophète de l'islam, n'ont jamais acquis une valeur canonique. Les traditions prophétiques, non plus, ne sont pas des récits. On y trouve bien, souvent, le rappel des circonstances qui ont amené le Prophète à dire telle ou telle chose, la mention des personnages qui étaient présents, mais l'intérêt est concentré sur la sentence prononcée par le Prophète et qui porte sur tel point litigieux de la loi ou de la doctrine ; l'événement décrit a la valeur d'un précédent, les personnages nommés garantissent le caractère authentique de la tradition. On n'attache pas d'importance à l'anecdote racontée en elle-même.

Le discontinu caractérise le style des sourates coraniques. L'attention du croyant ne s'attache pas à une sourate comme unité formelle et fermée, mais à des versets isolés qui expriment, avec une force et une vigueur exceptionnelles, les thèmes de base de la prédication coranique¹⁴. Les répétitions, les formules stéréotypées fatiguent celui qui lit le Coran d'un jet ; elles permettent au croyant de mieux fixer dans son esprit les vérités de sa foi, et les lui imposent avec beaucoup de force. Composée d'éléments discontinus, révélée par les éclairs solitaires des versets, l'image coranique de Dieu s'est imposée au musulman. En récitant l'écriture sacrée, en l'apprenant par coeur et en méditant sur ses versets, celui-ci croit revivre, en partie, l'expérience du Prophète au moment de la révélation.

Même sans recourir à une exégèse symbolique, à la recherche du sens spirituel caché, différent du sens littéral apparent, un passage admet des explications divergentes selon les circonstances et la situation où il est récité. D'autre part, entre plusieurs interprétations possibles, un homme choisira celle qui correspond le mieux à sa sensibilité et, très souvent, il aura recours au texte sacré non pour s'en inspirer, mais pour justifier ses propres idées.

Compte tenu de ces faits, il n'est pas douteux que le mysticisme islamique, le soufisme, ne soit issu d'une méditation intense du Coran. Ce sont les thèmes coraniques qui l'ont formé et qui lui ont donné le cadre. Parmi ces thèmes, en premier lieu, l'image de Dieu, à jamais ineffaçable : Dieu tout-puissant, qui fait ce qu'il veut. Rien ne lui ressemble, et son essence ne peut être saisie. Il a créé le monde de rien, et le monde périra : tout périra, sauf sa face. Tout ce qui est sur terre passera, la face de Dieu, Puissant et Majestueux, restera. Il a fait naître l'homme, le fera mourir et le ressuscitera une autre fois. Au son de la trompette, les morts surgiront et seront jugés. Ce jour-là, rien ne sera d'aucune utilité à l'homme, ni les biens ni les enfants, il sera seul à la face de son Juge. Car ce jour-là, à qui appartiendra le pouvoir ? A Dieu, l'unique, le Tout-Puissant. Ceux qui ont

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établi un autre dieu à côté de Dieu seront jetés dans la Géhenne, et la Géhenne gémira : « En avez-vous encore ? » Il ne leur servira à rien de dire qu'ils n'avaient pas su. Car, le jour où fut créé Adam, Dieu tira de ses reins la semence de tous ses descendants pour leur poser la question: « Ne suis-je pas votre Seigneur ? » (a-lastu bi-rabbikum). Ils répondirent : « Si ». Ils sont ainsi tous engagés par ce Covenant primordial, et leurs excuses n'ont pas de sens. Mais, d'autre part, s'ils n'ont pas cru, c'est que Dieu les a induits en erreur et a scellé leurs coeurs avec de la cire. Il est Celui qui guide et Celui qui laisse errer. Il est également plein de miséricorde. A ceux qui l'ont craint, qui se sont présentés le coeur contrit, Il dira d'entrer en paix au Paradis ; ils y auront tout ce qu'ils désirent, et Dieu leur en réserve plus encore (mazîd).

Soumis à la réflexion rationnelle, le Coran présente un certain nombre d'apories, notamment en ce qui concerne le problème de la prédestination et du libre arbitre, de la toute-puissance divine et de la responsabilité de l'homme. Inlassablement, le Coran affirme cette dernière ; mais ailleurs, tout aussi fréquemment, il déclare que rien ne se passe sans la volonté de Dieu, que l'obstination même des pécheurs vient de Dieu. Dans une expérience religieuse authentique, le sentiment de la dépendance absolue de la divinité coexiste avec celui de la responsabilité morale des actes, et ils n'apparaissent pas comme contradictoires ; il est plus difficile de les concilier dans une réflexion théologique construite selon des critères rationnels. Les différentes écoles islamiques adopteront des solutions différentes, ce qui ne manquera pas d'exercer une influence sur l'orientation des écoles mystiques. Les ascètes des premiers siècles de l'hégire vivent dans la crainte perpétuelle du jugement divin. A la même époque, les mutazilites soulignent le libre arbitre humain, la justice absolue de Dieu qui ne peut faire ce qui est injuste. L'homme est donc pleinement responsable de ses actes et assume cette responsabilité avec gravité ; mais il ne peut jamais savoir s'il a satisfait la volonté divine, si ses fautes ne l'emportent pas sur ses mérites, s'il n'est pas voué à la damnation éternelle. Plus tard, on sera plus confiant. Ach’arites et hanbalites souligneront la puissance absolue de Dieu, créateur des actes humains. Cette doctrine a inspiré une attitude d'abandon confiant à la volonté divine joint à la certitude du salut futur par le fait même de l'appartenance à la communauté élue. Tandis que la première conception favorisait une métaphysique dualiste où Dieu et la créature étaient radicalement différents, la seconde pousse vers des solutions monistes. C'est là bien entendu, une simplification ; en réalité, le développement fut bien plus complexe et plus nuancé.

L'accomplissement ponctuel des prescriptions religieuses suffit à sauver un homme du feu de l'enfer. Le mystique, lui, n'aspire qu'à Dieu. Cette aspiration s'exprime très souvent à l'aide d'une image coranique que nous venons de mentionner, celle du « jour du surcroît », yaum al-mazîd : pour ses proches, Dieu a plus que les joies du Paradis. L'essence divine se révélera ce jour-là à Ses élus, elle les saluera et les conduira hors du paradis commun. Répandu dès les premiers siècles de l'islam, chanté notamment par

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Dhû'l-Nûn l'Égyptien et Muhâsibî, ce thème s'enrichira et se transformera avec le temps. Le plus souvent, il sera question de la taverne mystique où l'Aimé apparaît sous les traits d'un jeune échanson, ce qui donnera aux poètes arabes et persans une occasion de chanter l'amour pour l'homme beau, reflet de la beauté divine. D'autres fois, l'image primitive sera préservée plus fidèlement. Le cas le plus notable est celui de la danse des Mevlevis, les célèbres « derviches tourneurs ».

Une autre image d'origine coranique qui aura la prédilection des soufis est celle du Covenant primordial. L'extase mystique devient le rappel ou plutôt la réactualisation de cet événement. Sorti du sommeil dans lequel l'a plongé sa condition charnelle, le derviche se rappelle ses origines véritables et renouvelle son adhésion à Son Seigneur. Ici encore, l'image a eu son prolongement « liturgique » : l'action de la musique sur l'homme, telle qu'elle se manifeste notamment dans les séances de samâ' , est expliquée par le souvenir de cet événement. Toute voix est censée reproduire le premier appel et susciter, dans l'âme, les mêmes résonances. Le derviche entre en extase mû par le désir de retrouver sa condition initiale, de contempler la beauté divine. Ce rappel lui fait faire des mouvements, l'amène à danser. Le samâ' n'est point un moyen artificiel de provoquer l'extase, mais un rite qui permet de réactualiser un état antérieur au temps. Il n'est pas étonnant que le samâ' soit interprété également comme évoquant la parole créatrice, Kun ! (Sois !), par laquelle toutes choses sont venues à l'existence.

La réflexion des soufis s'emparera de l'image et la développera. Le jour du Covenant, les hommes n'étaient pas encore nés. Quel était alors leur mode d'existence ? Comment ont-ils pu témoigner ? La vieille représentation de la préexistence des âmes s'insinue dans l'esprit. Plus nuancé, un Junaid parlera de l'existence des hommes en Dieu. N'ayant pas encore d'existence autonome, ils n'étaient que l'objet de la science de Dieu. Celui-ci le fit exister, leur posa la question, attesta pour eux. Pourtant, cet état premier était un genre d'existence plus vrai et meilleur que celui que les hommes ont acquis par la création. Au bout de son cheminement, le mystique le retrouvera. S'étant dépouillé de son humanité, il ne vivra que par Dieu et en Dieu.

Ainsi, la réflexion sur un verset coranique ouvre la voie aux idées néo-platoniciennes. Cela ne veut pas dire que la doctrine soufie sera une copie de cette philosophie, mais seulement que des problèmes posés par la méditation du Livre seront très souvent formulés en termes empruntés au néo-platonisme et les solutions adoptées analogues aux siennes. Il est difficile de faire le départ entre l'apport étranger et la réflexion sur les données coraniques et de tracer les limites exactes entre les deux dans chaque cas particulier. Comme dans l'exemple étudié, il y a souvent rencontre des thèmes et des images et il paraît plus indiqué de parler de symbiose que d'influence. En tout cas, certains domaines resteront toujours plus réfractaires ; même lorsqu'elle est définie en termes philosophiques, l'image de la Divinité restera toujours profondément coranique.

Le soufisme est né dans une atmosphère de profonde imprégnation coranique. Mais d'autres mou-

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vements islamiques -- tel le hanbalisme -- en étaient également sortis, sans que pour cela ils aient évolué dans un sens analogue. A l'appel initial du texte sacré, certains individus réagissaient d'une façon spéciale qui était conforme à leurs aspirations profondes.

L'imitation du Prophète, l'obligation de suivre sa sunna en toute circonstance, est un trait caractéristique de l'islam. Les soufis, surtout dans les premiers siècles, se distinguent par une observation particulièrement scrupuleuse de la sunna ; ils insistent sur certains aspects de l'expérience du Prophète, sa pauvreté initiale, les longues persécutions qu'il a subies dans sa ville natale, la soif du divin qu'il éprouvait en s'isolant dans les montagnes de Hirâ, sa rencontre avec Gabriel qui lui révéla sa vocation prophétique et lui dicta les premières paroles du Coran, ses jeûnes, ses prières, son combat. Mais l'épisode de la vie de Muhammad qui a sans doute le plus influencé les mystiques fut celui de son voyage nocturne : une nuit il fut ravi de la Mosquée Sacrée à la Mosquée Très-Lointaine, de La Mecque à Jérusalem, et de là au ciel. On trouva des allusions à ce voyage dans deux sourates du Coran, 17, 1 : « Gloire à Celui qui transporta la nuit Son serviteur de la Mosquée Sacrée à la Mosquée Très-Éloignée... » et plus encore dans les premiers versets de la sourate 53 qui décrivent une vision du Prophète. Monté au septième ciel, ce dernier s'approcha de la Divinité « de deux arcs ou moins » (qâba qausaini au adnâ), et il l'a vue « près du Lotus de la Limite (sidrat al-muntahâ), à côté duquel se trouve le jardin al-Ma' wa ». Les récits de cette ascension nocturne (al-mi`râg), très nombreux, formeront la piété musulmane. Pour les mystiques, l'ascension du Prophète constitue le modèle de leur propre expérience extatique. Elle marque en même temps ses limites ; l'essence divine reste inaccessible, le qâba qausain est le maximum de ce qu'un homme peut atteindre, car personne ne saurait dépasser le Prophète.

A d'autres égards encore, l'imitation de Muhammad informe la mystique musulmane. Bien que la femme ne jouisse pas d'une haute opinion et que sa fréquentation soit considérée comme occasion de péchés, très peu nombreux seront les soufis qui pratiqueront le célibat, et moins encore ceux qui le prêcheront pour les autres. Comme tout musulman, le mystique doit se marier et contribuer ainsi au renforcement de la communauté. Le soufi n'est pas un moine, il vit au milieu de ses semblables et partage leur vie, leurs joies et leurs peines.

Or, c'est comme un ascétisme que commence le mysticisme islamique. Il s'agit d'une piété pratique qui ne s'embarrasse pas encore de spéculations métaphysiques, qui prêche la primauté de l'intention sur l'acte, qui met l'accent sur la pureté intérieure, la contrition, la crainte de Dieu. La note dominante est pessimiste. Un homme ne sait jamais comment il affrontera le jugement divin, il ignore s'il n'est pas voué à la damnation éternelle. Cette vie périssable est sans valeur, chaque jour nous rapproche de la mort. Il ne faut pas s'attacher à ce monde-ci, Dieu lui-même le déteste ; il n'a de valeur que comme préparation à l'au-delà, mais on ne peut jamais être sûr que la foi et les oeuvres accomplies nous préservent de la colère divine. On ne doit pas rire, pleurer convient

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davantage au pénitent. Renoncer aux biens de ce monde est recommandé, non comme un but en soi, mais parce que leur usage détourne de l'amour de l'autre monde.

Parmi les compagnons du Prophète on cite quelques cas d'ascètes, tels Abu Dharr al-Ghiffârî ou ‘Imrâm b. al-Husain al-Khuzâ’î. Ce n'est cependant pas sur eux qu'insiste la tradition hagiographique. Elle parle d'un groupe de dévots désignés comme ahl al-suffa « les gens de la banquette » qui se seraient adonnés à des pratiques ascétiques et à des exercices surérogatoires à la mosquée de Médine ; et elle mentionne avec prédilection la légende de ‘Uwais al-Qaranî, qui est très importante pour la compréhension de certaines tendances du mysticisme islamique et sur laquelle nous reviendrons. Les hagiographes aiment à revenir également sur la piété des quatre premiers califes qui, notamment Abd Bakr et ‘Ali, auraient joué un grand rôle dans la transmission de la science mystique.

Dans la seconde moitié du I^er siècle de l'hégire, le nombre d'ascètes croît, non seulement à Médine, en Syrie ou en Irak, mais aussi dans le Khurâsân qui forme alors la marche orientale de l'empire des califes. Parmi ces ascètes, quelques noms se détachent de la masse, en premier lieu celui de Hasan de Basra, en qui les soufis verront plus tard leur patriarche.

Né en 21 de l'hégire, probablement à Médine, il passe la plus grande partie de sa vie à Basra, où il meurt en 110. Sa personnalité eut une influence considérable dans tous les domaines de la pensée islamique. Prêchant l'imminence de la mort et du jugement, la nécessité de conformer les actions et les paroles, les pensées et les actes, il insiste sur l'importance de l'examen de conscience et sur le devoir de correction fraternelle. Correction fraternelle mais non insurrection armée : il refuse de prendre parti dans les querelles intestines qui, de son vivant, déchirent la communauté islamique. Dans la question si importante de la prédestination et du libre arbitre, il occupe une position intermédiaire, et les partisans des deux solutions le revendiqueront. Il est ascète, mais ne préconise pas l'abstinence sexuelle et sa cuisine non plus n'est pas dépourvue d'attrait. Le juste gain est considéré par lui comme légitime, et l'argent n'est pas répudié : seulement il entend se contenter, pour sa part, de l'indispensable, et distribuer le reste.

Tous ces traits resteront caractéristiques du mysticisme islamique. Le soufi vit dans le siècle, son existence n'a de sens que parce qu'il appelle les autres à Dieu et les fait bénéficier de son intimité avec Dieu.

Mentionnons quelques autres ascètes des premiers siècles : ‘Abd al-Wâhid ibn Zaid, organisateur et fondateur du cloître d'Abâdân ; Ibrâhim ibn Adham, prince de Balkh, dont le récit de la conversion est influencé par la légende du Bouddha ; la grande sainte Rabi'a al-’Adawîya, et Abû Sulaimân al-Dârânî. Les tendances au renoncement, l'attachement scrupuleux à la Loi, se combinent chez ces ascètes avec un sens très profond de la pureté intérieure et un amour passionné de Dieu.

La Loi islamique considère un certain nombre d'aliments comme impurs : la viande du porc, le sang, etc. Ces interdits sont observés par les soufis ; ils en ajoutent d'autres, qui ne sont pas sans rappeler

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des usages courants parmi les anciens chrétiens. Toute nourriture acquise d'une façon illicite est impure ; tout ce qui est acheté avec de l'argent gagné dans des jeux de hasard, par la rapine, par le mensonge, est impropre à la consommation. On ne mange pas ce qui n'a pas été donné de bon coeur, et très souvent on considérera comme impur tout ce qui vient des puissants de ce monde, émirs et rois, parce que leurs biens sont acquis de façon illicite, que leur pouvoir est usurpé et qu'ils sont des « tyrans ». A la limite, tout aliment acheté au marché est suspect, on n'a confiance que dans la nourriture qu'on a préparée soi-même. La nourriture licite a une vertu propre, sa consommation rapproche le fidèle de Dieu. Au contraire, les aliments impurs rendent l'homme plus animal, l'abaissent et l'induisent au péché.

Voici quelques exemples de cette attitude, empruntés à la littérature soufie plus récente, mais tout à fait conformes à la tradition.

Dans les débuts de sa carrière, le Khwâga Bahâ' al-Dîn Naqsband (XIV^e siècle) fut reçu, un soir, par le roi de Hérat. Ce dernier avait pris des précautions pour que la nourriture servie fût rituellement pure. Le saint homme n'y toucha point : c'était un repas offert par un roi, donc irrémédiablement impur.

Son contemporain, ‘Alî-i Hamadânî, tomba en extase dans les débuts de sa carrière. Son état mystique fut tellement fort qu'il fallut le lier pour qu'il se tînt tranquille. Finalement, on acheta de la nourriture au marché: elle n'était plus absolument pure et sa consommation par le mystique interrompit son extase et le ramena à son état normal.

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Le moindre manquement à la pureté a ainsi pour effet d'éloigner l'homme de Dieu et de le réduire à son niveau humain. De ce point de vue, le dernier récit cité est comparable à cet autre que l'on rapporte d'un cheikh anonyme. Un jour, après des années d'exercices ascétiques et d'efforts, ce dernier atteignait la lumière sans borne et sans limite qui remplit le monde et constitue sa véritable essence. Il resta stupéfié et terrassé, et ne put ni manger ni dormir. Il ne sut comment retrouver son état normal. Un ami lui conseilla de soulever, dans un champ, un brin de paille sans la permission du propriétaire. Le cheikh le fit, la lumière disparut et il revint à lui.

L'amour de Dieu est une des notes dominantes de cette mystique. C'est aussi un de ses traits qui scandalisent le plus les docteurs. Étant donné la transcendance absolue de Dieu et son incommensurabilité avec les créatures, il leur paraît scandaleux d'envisager leurs rapports en termes érotiques. Toute la mystique postérieure emploiera un vocabulaire érotique et parlera de Dieu comme du Bien-Aimé et des mystiques comme de ses amants. La poésie soufie popularisera ces images qui constitueront un thème de prédilection de poètes persans, turcs ou urdu. Bien que, dans les premiers siècles, on soit encore loin de cette rhétorique, certains aspects de cet amour sont, par contre, déjà présents.

De cet amour, Dieu est le seul et l'unique objet. On le désire pour lui-même, indépendamment de la récompense qu'il peut donner. On connaît les paroles célèbres de Rabi’a sur les deux amours, l'amour qui implique son propre bonheur — par la jouissance de Dieu — et celui qui est vraiment digne de Lui, où

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elle-même n'a plus de part. Des idées analogues se trouvent formulées dans un hadîth : « Ce monde-ci est interdit, aux hommes de l'autre monde ; et l'autre monde est interdit aux hommes de ce monde-ci ; et ils sont tous les deux interdits aux hommes de Dieu Très-Haut. » Ni jouissance des biens de ce monde, ni de ceux de l'autre, mais dévotion exclusive pour Dieu. Même malgré lui, voire contre son ordre.

Abû Sulaimân al-Dârânî dit : « Mon Seigneur ! Si Tu m'as réclamé mes pensées secrètes, je t'ai réclamé Ton Unicité ; et si Tu m'as réclamé mes péchés, je T'ai réclamé Ta générosité ; et si Tu m'a mis parmi les gens de l'enfer, j'ai proclamé aux gens de l'enfer mon amour pour Toi. »

L'amant mystique se sent rejeté par son Bien-Aimé, mais il continue à lui témoigner son amour. Un peu plus tard, cette attitude se cristallisera dans un symbole qu'affecteront les plus grands parmi les soufis, depuis al-Hallâg jusqu'à Ibn ‘Arabi : la réhabilitation d'Iblîs.

On connaît la version coranique du récit de la chute des anges. Ayant créé Adam, Dieu exige des anges qu'ils se prosternent devant lui. Iblîs n'obéit pas, est rejeté et devient démon. Mais pourquoi Iblîs ne s'est-il pas prosterné ? Les mystiques savent la réponse : il refusa d'adorer un être créé¹⁵. Contre l'ordre formel de Dieu, il témoigna de l'unité divine. Dans sa réjection, il reste le parfait monothéiste. Il a enfreint un ordre de Dieu, non sa volonté. Il reste le modèle de l'amant de Dieu.

Certains en ajoutent un autre : le Pharaon de l'exode. En refusant d'obéir à Moïse, celui-ci n'a fait que récuser un intermédiaire créé entre Dieu et lui-même.

Ces sommets de spéculation sont rarement atteints dans les deux premiers siècles. Plus fréquente est encore l'attitude classique qui oppose ce monde-ci et l'autre, l'infinie majesté divine et le peu de valeur de l'homme, l'obligation pour celui-ci d'accomplir les devoirs prescrits sans s'attendre à une récompense, Dieu est souverain, il agit comme il veut et donne ce qu'il veut et à qui il veut. Ahmad b. ‘Asîm al-Antakî dit : « Estime grandement le peu de subsistance que Dieu t'a donné, pour que tes remerciements soient purifiés ; et estime comme peu de choses les nombreux actes d'obéissance envers Dieu que tu pratiques en meurtrissant ton âme et l'exposant au pardon. »

L'accomplissement des devoirs et des actions surérogatoires rapproche l'homme de Dieu ; c'est même la seule voie qui conduise vers lui. Dans un hadîth qudsi célèbre, attesté pour la première fois au III^e siècle de l'hégire, mais sans doute plus ancien, Dieu dit : « En vérité, les hommes ne se rapprochent de moi que par des oeuvres semblables à celles qui leur ont été prescrites. Et le serviteur ne cesse pas de se rapprocher de moi par des oeuvres surérogatoires jusqu'à ce que je l'ai pris en affection. Et lorsque je l'ai pris en affection, je suis devenu sa vue, son ouïe, sa main et sa langue : c'est par moi qu'il entend, c'est par moi qu'il voit, c'est par moi qu'il touche, c'est par moi qu'il parle. » Par des oeuvres de dévotion, l'homme se rapproche ainsi de Dieu. A un moment, il rencontre l'amour de Dieu qui vient au-devant de lui. Il perd alors ses qualités humaines, Dieu remplit tout son être et il n'existe plus qu'en Dieu.

Le mépris de ce monde entraîne celui de la science

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profane, voire de toute science qui ne soit pas celle de Dieu. Antakî affirme : « En vérité, j'ai étudié les sciences, j'ai éprouvé les principes, j'ai goûté la pensée, j'ai absorbé la théorie, je me suis efforcé de retenir en mémoire, je me suis plongé dans la sagesse, j'ai appris l'art sermonnaire, j'ai coordonné la parole avec la pensée, j'ai fait correspondre l'expression et le sentiment, mais je n'ai trouvé aucune science plus riche en connaissance, plus guérisseuse pour la poitrine, plus pieuse dans ses intentions, plus vivifiante pour le coeur, plus attirante au bien et plus répugnante au mal, plus dominante au coeur et plus nécessaire au serviteur que la science de la connaissance (ma'rifa) de l'Adoré, de la profession de son Unité (tawhid), de la foi et la certitude de son au-delà, afin que s'établissent sûrement la crainte de son chûtiment et l'espoir de sa récompense, la reconnaissance pour ses faveurs, la pensée qui n'a pas de fins, et l'inspiration qui n'a pas de bornes. Par des arguments rationnels, on apprend la résolution, et la force de la résolution arrive à dominer les passions. Mais on pénètre les vérités profondes des traditions par effort, compréhension et réflexion. Alors la certitude est acquise, tandis que les actions sont assurées ; sinon, les actes sont sujets au doute. N'est pas roi celui qui obéit a la passion et offre le royaume de ce monde ; est roi celui qui domine la passion et demande pardon du royaume de ce monde. »

Ainsi le refus de la science profane, la reconnaissance de sa vanité, débouche sur l'exaltation de la seule science utile, de la ma’rifa du Créateur. Cette mar’ifa — gnose — est celle des réalités ultimes ; y arriver, connaître les haqâ iq, influe sur le comportement du mystique. Il n'erre plus, sait à quoi s'en tenir et agit avec certitude.

La gnose peut être tout simplement une connaissance plus exacte et plus sûre de la doctrine islamique, voire de la Loi révélée. Elle peut aussi cacher un savoir ésotérique, « gnostique » au sens de la gnose classique. En fait, la spéculation soufie se développe ici autour du thème central de la doctrine islamique, du tawhîd « profession de l'Unicité divine » et aboutit parfois à des conclusions fort éloignées de celles des oulémas. Pour les deux premiers siècles de l'islam, nous ne savons pas grand-chose sur le contenu de ces spéculations ; il nous suffit de constater que, tout comme chez les moines chrétiens, la pratique ascétique est accompagnée de l'acquisition de la gnose qui en constitue l'aboutissement ; et que cette gnose est en quelque sorte équivalente à la reconnaissance amoureuse de Dieu.

Nous sommes mieux renseignés sur les spéculations d'un autre milieu, celui des différents mouvements chiites. Né comme un mouvement politique d'allégeance à la famille du Prophète, plus spécialement à son cousin 'Alî et sa fille Fatima ainsi qu'à leurs descendants, le chiisme évolue rapidement dans un sens religieux ; ou plutôt, le religieux et le politique y sont dès le début inextricablement mêlés. La lignée principale des imans 'alides a renoncé à l'action armée. Jusqu'à l'extinction de la lignée, ses représentants vivent, tout d'abord à Médine, ensuite comme prisonniers d'honneur des califes abbasides à Bagdad et à Samarra, se vouant exclusivement à une activité religieuse. La tradition nous les montre entourés

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de disciples, interprétant la révélation et la loi, se désintéressant du pouvoir politique, mais d'autant plus jaloux de leurs prérogatives religieuses. Preuves de Dieu sur terre, ils se transmettent, de génération en génération, un savoir ésotérique qu'ils ne communiquent qu'à des initiés, et jamais en entier. Ils passent leur existence inconnus de la grande masse. Pourtant, pour être sauvé, il faut les connaître. Car « celui qui est mort sans connaître l'imam de son temps est mort païen ». Leurs partisans, leur sî`a ne constituent qu'une petite minorité parmi les croyants ; mais c'est une élite. Selon certaines sectes extrémistes, les prophètes, les imams et leurs partisans ont été créés d'une autre substance que le reste des hommes ; mais une tradition qui l'affirme se retrouve dans le recueil duodécimain de Kulainî. Plus généralement, les chiites se considèrent comme une élite, la khâssa, par opposition à la grande masse des musulmans, la ‘âmma.

Détenteur de la science ésotérique, intermédiaire nécessaire entre les hommes et la divinité, maître d'un groupe de disciples, l'imam est désigné aussi par le terme de walî « ami » (de Dieu), de wasi « héritier » (du Prophète). A une époque plus tardive, les mêmes termes se trouvent appliqués aux maîtres soufis. Eux aussi transmettent à leurs disciples un savoir ésotérique ; c'est grâce à l'enseignement du cheikh que le soufi parvient à Dieu, et sa personne lui sert d'intermédiaire obligatoire. On discute alors pour savoir qui est le véritable héritier du Prophète : l'imam, l'ouléma, le cheikh soufi. Chaque parti affirme que c'est à lui que s'applique le hadîth : « Les oulémas de ma communauté sont comme les prophètes des fils d'Israël » et « les oulémas sont les héritiers des prophètes ». Ces discussions mettent en jeu un problème vital auquel doit faire face la communauté islamique. Dans le passé, Dieu a toujours suscité des prophètes qui, soit apportaient à l'humanité une nouvelle révélation, soit l'appelaient à Dieu. Désormais, l'ère de la prophétie étant close, il s'agit de savoir qui doit guider l'humanité vers Dieu. La majorité se fie à l'interprétation de la loi révélée par les savants et la croit suffisante, car « ma communauté ne sera jamais d'accord sur une erreur ». Mais, argumentent les chiites, les oulémas peuvent se tromper et les versets du Coran sont souvent ambigus. Il faut donc un guide infaillible, et ce guide est désigné par Dieu, il est son ami. Non seulement il interprète la révélation, mais il rapproche les hommes de Dieu. Le cheikh soufi, lui aussi, appelle les hommes à Dieu ; non seulement il se prononce sur la conformité de leurs actions avec la lettre de la loi, mais aussi sonde leurs coeurs et leurs pensées. Tout comme les chiites, les soufis se distinguent de la grande masse, de la ‘amma. Comme eux, ils possèdent un savoir ésotérique ; comme leurs imams, ils sont des awliyâ, des Amis de Dieu. Seulement, ce privilège ne leur est pas venu par voie d'héritage, ni en vertu de leur appartenance à une certaine famille. La gnose leur fut, certes, transmise, par leurs maîtres ; mais aussi et surtout ils l'ont acquise par une inspiration directe, distincte de l'inspiration prophétique, et également légitime¹⁶.

Soufisme et chiisme résolvent ainsi, chacun à sa manière, un problème posé par la doctrine islamique elle-même ; l'un et l'autre permettent à leurs adhé-

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rents de vivre, à l'intérieur d'un groupe restreint, une vie religieuse plus intense que celle de la masse des croyants. Ces analogies de structure ne suffisent pas à prouver, entre les deux mouvements, une connexion historique autre que leur appartenance commune à la communauté islamique. Mais des faits plus précis permettent d'aller un peu plus loin, sans que le problème se laisse entièrement résoudre.

A une époque plus récente, il est vrai, toutes les congrégations soufies revendiquent ‘Ali comme ancêtre spirituel et lui attribuent notamment l'origine de leur science ésotérique. Selon l'une des versions de la chaîne initiatique classique, ‘Ali transmit son froc à Hasan al-Basrî ; selon l'autre, le froc et la science ésotérique furent transmis dans la ligne des imams valides jusqu'au huitième d'entre eux, ‘Alî al-Ridhâ.... La tradition peut s'expliquer de deux façons : ou bien elle atteste des liens réels entre chiites et soufis au moment où elle fait son apparition ; ou, au contraire, il s'agit d'un exemple de cette « défense sunnite » dont le soufisme donnera plusieurs exemples au cours de son histoire. En se plaçant sous le patronage de la famille du Prophète, unanimement vénérée par les musulmans, en affirmant posséder une science ésotérique dérivée de ‘Alî, on retirait aux chiites une partie de leur force et l'on intégrait, sous une forme atténuée, celles de leurs doctrines qu'il était possible de concilier avec l'appartenance à la majorité. Les deux explications ne s'excluent d'ailleurs pas ; la différence est dans l'intention, non dans le fait de la présence d'éléments chiites. Il est en tout cas caractéristique que la tradition en question apparaisse à une époque où la puissance politique de différents courants chiites est à son sommet : les Bouyides sont à Bagdad, les Fatimides au Caire.

Un dernier fait : le cas d'al-Hallâg. On sait que le célèbre mystique fut condamné, pour ses prétentions à la divinité et que l'accusation fut formulée par les chiites. Un juge chiite siégea d'ailleurs au tribunal. Antérieurement, il avait fréquenté des milieux ismaéliens et qarmates et avait même été considéré par certains comme un missionnaire qarmate. A Qum, centre chiite depuis toujours, il se serait prétendu envoyé par l'imam caché et aurait montré une lettre qu'il tenait de lui, provoquant ainsi la fureur des oulémas imamites. Rien de tout cela n'est très précis, mais il y a le fait indéniable de la fréquentation de différents milieux chiites. Et il ne faut pas oublier qu'al-Hallâg est l'un des premiers auteurs soufis dont les écrits présentent un caractère gnostique évident. On y trouve notamment des spéculations sur la valeur mystique des lettres de l'alphabet, spéculations très répandues dans les milieux chiites depuis au moins le temps du vieil hérétique Mugîra b. Sa 'îd au temps de l'imam Muhammad Bâqir et qui, à l'époque même d'al-Hallâg, étaient couramment pratiquées par les ismaéliens.

Quoi qu'il en soit, au III^e siècle, la jonction est faite entre les spéculations gnostiques et les pratiques ascétiques. Ce siècle voit les grands classiques du soufisme, Dhu'l-Nun l'Égyptien, Hârith al-Muhâsibî, Abû Yazid Bistâmi, ‘Ali b. Muhammad al-Tirmidhî, Junaid et Hallâg.

NOTE BIBLIOGRAPHIQUE [omise]

CHAPITRE III L'ESSOR

La tradition soufie et, après elle, l'orientalisme européen, considèrent le III^e et le IV^e siècle de l'hégire comme l'âge d'or du soufisme. Le développement ultérieur n'est souvent considéré que comme une sorte de décadence dont le développement de la théorie de la wahdat al-wujûd « l'unicité de l'être » serait un des symptômes. En agissant ainsi, les orientalistes acceptent, d'une part, l'image idéale dressée par les soufis eux-mêmes qui, d'accord avec toute la vision musulmane du monde, voient l'âge d'or dans le passé ; d'autre part — et cela vaut notamment pour leur attitude envers la wahdat al-wujûd — ils obéissent à un réflexe plus ou moins inconscient qui leur fait considérer comme décadence tout ce qui s'écarte des normes et des schémas auxquels l'orthodoxie chrétienne nous a habitués. Il est possible également de renverser la question en demandant si la mystique de l'école d' Ibn ‘Arabi ne représente pas un progrès sur celle des ascètes de Bagdad, en ce sens qu'elle prend conscience des virtualités propres à l'islam et les développe. Nous refusant de prendre parti, nous considérons comme les grands siècles du soufisme

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toute la période qui va du III^e au VIII^e siècle de l'hégire ; ce qui ne veut pas dire qu'à une époque plus tardive il n'y ait pas eu de développements intéressants. Mais les grandes options sont désormais prises et les attitudes fondamentales varieront peu.

Un des maîtres les plus anciens du soufisme au III^e siècle de l'hégire est Dhû'l-Nûn l'Égyptien, mort en 246 h. Considéré par la tradition comme magicien et alchimiste, il aurait appris les hiéroglyphes et étudié les livres hermétiques. De ses écrits alchimiques, il ne subsiste plus rien ; quant à ses écrits mystiques, on n'en a que des extraits, préservés par des historiens du soufisme, notamment par Abû Nu‘aim. Dans un poème d'une exquise beauté, il chante l'amour divin avec des accents passionnés. Dans un autre fragment, en prose celui-ci, il décrit les joies du sama’ au Paradis, description basée sur le thème coranique du yaum al-mazîd. C'est sans doute l'attestation la plus ancienne de l'interprétation du sama’ en termes eschatologiques, interprétation qui devait faire fortune. Dhû 'l-Nûn est, en effet, un des théoriciens les plus anciens du sama’ . I1 passe aussi pour avoir, sinon introduit, au moins précisé la notion de la ma‘rifa dans le soufisme.

Nous sommes beaucoup mieux renseignés sur son contemporain Hârith al-Muhâsibî, mort en 243 h., un des plus anciens représentants de l'école mystique de Bagdad, dont plusieurs écrits sont parvenus jusqu'à nous. Lui aussi chanta le yaum al-mazîd dans son Kitâb al-tawakhum, et son traité sur l'amour s'attache à définir les problèmes que pose l'amour divin. Mais c'est surtout comme théoricien de l'examen de conscience — à quoi se réfère son surnom et où il continue la tradition de Hasan Basrî — qu'il passera à la postérité ; c'est à ce problème qu'est consacré son ouvrage principal, le Kitâb al-ri’âya li-huqûq Allâh. Cet ouvrage définit, entre autres, le comportement et la règle de vie qui s'imposent au mystique et qui produisent dans son âme une série d'états qui constituent autant d'étapes sur la voie menant à Dieu.

Passons rapidement sur des soufis comme Ibn Karrâm, Yahyâ ibn Mu’âdh al-Râzî, Sahl Tustarî pour nous arrêter sur quelques cas qui permettent d'étudier de plus près certains grands problèmes de la mystique musulmane. Le premier est Abû Yazid Bistâmî.

Paysan rude et inculte, observant scrupuleusement les prescriptions de la loi religieuse, Bayâzid Bistâmî pratiqua une ascèse austère. Descendant d'un mage, il eut comme maître dans le tawhîd un Abû ‘Alî Sindî à qui il apprit en échange les quelques sourates du Coran récitées dans la prière rituelle. Certains orientalistes en ont conclu qu'il s'agissait d'un converti et que les secrets du tawhîd qu'il aurait appris à son disciple étaient ceux du Védânta. Ces essais ne résistent pas à la critique, même si l'expérience mystique de Bistâmî peut rappeler, par certains côtés, celle de quelques mystiques indiens. Mais il est foncièrement musulman et attache beaucoup d'importance à l'accomplissement des devoirs, tout en insistant sur la pureté intérieure sans laquelle ces actes restent sans valeur.

On demanda à Abû Yazîd : « Les hommes disent que la profession de foi « il n'y a pas de dieu sauf Dieu » est la clef du paradis. » Il répondit : « Ils disent la vérité ;

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mais une clef sans serrure n'ouvre rien ; et les serrures du « Il n'y a pas de dieu sauf Dieu » sont au nombre de quatre : Une langue pure de mensonge et de distraction ; un coeur pur de ruse et de trahison ; un ventre pur de toute nourriture illicite ou douteuse ; des actions pures de passion et d'innovation. »

Ces actes de piété ne sont pourtant rien à côté de la majesté de Dieu, dont rien ne peut donner aucune idée.

Abû Yazîd disait : « Les hommes se repentent de leurs péchés et moi, je me repens de mes paroles « Il n'y a pas de dieu sauf Dieu », car je parle avec des sens et des lettres ; or, Dieu est en dehors des sens et des lettres. »

Face à Dieu, les hommes et leurs actions ne valent rien.

Abû Yazîd dit : « Si, depuis Adam jusqu'au jour de la résurrection, Tu as pardonné (leurs péchés à tous les hommes), Tu as pardonné à une poignée de terre. Si, depuis Adam jusqu'au jour de la résurrection, tu fais brûler dans le feu (tous les hommes), tu fais brûler une poignée de terre. »

L'homme doit se confier entièrement à Dieu.

Abû Yazîd dit : « Pour ce qui est de l'abandon confiant en Dieu, qu'il te suffise : de ne voir personne d'autre que Lui qui t'aide ; de ne voir d'autre trésorier pour ta subsistance que Lui ; de n'avoir aucun autre témoin de tes actes que Lui. »

Et c'est à Dieu, et à Dieu seul, qu'Abû Yazîd demande de le guider.

On demanda à Abû Yazîd : « Comment es-tu arrivé là où tu es arrivé ? » Il dit : « Je fis plusieurs choses ; la première est : J'ai pris comme maître Dieu — Gloire à Lui ! — et je me suis dit : Si ton Seigneur ne te suffit pas, qui d'autre que Lui te suffira dans les Cieux et sur terre ? Puis j'ai occupé ma langue par Sa mention et mon corps par son service. Toutes les fois qu'un membre de mon corps n'en pouvait plus, je me tournais vers un autre. C'est alors qu'il me fut dit : « Abû Yazîd ! Abû Yazîd ! »

Humilité, compassion universelle et dépouillement de la personnalité : il n'y a pas d'autre voie pour arriver à Dieu:

Abû Yazîd dit : « Je vis le Seigneur de la Puissance en rêve et lui demandai : « Quel est le chemin qui mène vers Toi ? » Il me dit : « Dépouille-toi de ton toi et élève-toi ! »

Le chemin est long et difficile, ses sommets sont impossibles à atteindre:

On raconte qu'Abû Yazîd dit : « Je me suis plongé dans les océans des connaissances mystiques jusqu'à ce que j'arrive à celui de Muhammad. Je vis entre lui et moi un millier de degrés ; et si je m'en rapprochais d'un seul, je brûlerais. »

Pourtant, dans l'ivresse de l'extase, il croit avoir atteint des sommets, se dit Dieu, voire supérieur à lui. Il s'exclame alors : « Gloire à moi, combien grande est ma puissance ! », en employant à propos lui-même une expression qu'il n'est licite d'employer que pour Dieu.

Abû Yazîd est, historiquement, le premier mystique musulman chez qui des exclamations de ce genre soient attestées, et chez qui elles paraissent les plus spontanées. L'attitude qui s'y reflète n'est qu'en apparence opposée à celle dont témoignent les paroles que nous avons citées tout à l'heure. Au point de départ, le mystique s'est dépouillé de son propre moi ; une fois

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entré en extase, il est rempli de Dieu et les exclamations qu'il profère n'expriment plus sa propre individualité.

La valeur du récit suivant, souvent cité, est à peu près la même:

On raconte qu'Abû Yazîd dit : « Il m'éleva un jour et me plaça devant Lui », et dit : « O Abû Yazîd ! Mes créatures veulent te voir. » Je dis alors: « Orne-moi de Ton unicité, habille-moi de Ton individualité, élève-moi à Ton unité, afin que, me voyant, tes créatures disent : « Nous t'avons vu. Et ce sera Toi, et moi je n'y serai pas. »

Les partisans de l'idée de l'influence védântine sur Bistâmî ont fait de ce passage un de leurs arguments favoris ; l'expression « et ce sera toi » (watakûnu anta dhâka) serait une traduction de l'affirmation bien connue des Upanishad, « toi tu es cela » (tat tvam asi). Il suffit pourtant de comparer les contextes pour constater que la démarche dans les deux cas est exactement inverse. Alors que dans le chapitre célèbre de la Chandogya Upanisad, Uddalaka Aruni s'adresse à son fils Svetaketu pour lui expliquer que, sous des dehors variés, la réalité de toutes choses est la même, que lui-même, Svetaketu, « est cela », Bistâmî dit à Dieu que, lorsque les créatures le regarderont, lui, Bistâmî, il aura disparu et il n'y aura plus que Dieu. D'un côté, l'extension de la personnalité du mystique jusqu'à ce qu'elle coïncide avec l'essence de toutes les choses ; de l'autre, son oblitération complète et sa disparition en Dieu¹⁷.

Dans l'ivresse de l'extase, le mystique croit avoir atteint Dieu et réalisé l'union avec Lui. Mais pénétrant plus loin, il finit par comprendre que ce n'était qu'une illusion.

On raconte également qu'il dit : « Dès que j'allai vers son unicité, je devins un oiseau dont le corps était en unité et les ailes en éternité. Et je ne cessai de voler dans le ciel de la qualité pendant dix ans jusqu'à ce que je l'aie survolé cent millions de fois. Et je ne cessai de voler jusqu'à ce que je fusse arrivé sur l'esplanade de la Prééternité et là je vis l'Arbre de l'Unité. » — Il décrit alors le terrain où était planté cet arbre, ses racines, son tronc, ses branches, ses feuilles et ses fruits. Il dit alors : « Je regardai et je vis que tout cela n'était que tromperie. »

L'image est coranique, non védântine. Ce n'est pas la réalité du monde phénoménal qui est niée, mais celle de l'expérience mystique¹⁸. Bâyazîd a cru atteindre le but, il comprend qu'il s'est trompé.

Avec Bistâmî, nous n'en sommes pas encore aux interprétations métaphysiques de l'expérience mystique. Il reste que c'est avec lui que le problème commence à se poser avec acuité ainsi que ceux de la nature de l'être et des rapports entre l'existence de Dieu et celle de Ses créatures.

Une des constantes de l'expérience mystique semble être le sentiment que rien d'autre que Dieu n'a d'existence réelle. Selon un mystique byzantin comme Syméon le Nouveau Théologien, ce sentiment-là est à la base de la vie mystique. Dans l'islam, les conditions du développement de ce sentiment paraissent, dès le départ, beaucoup plus favorables que dans le christianisme ; et le problème ne s'y pose pas dans les mêmes termes, on ne le soulignera jamais assez.

Il est inutile de rappeler l'absolue transcendance du Dieu du Coran : elle n'a jamais été mise en doute.

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Mais ce n'est pas elle qui constitue le trait dominant de l'image islamique de Dieu ; c'est sa toute-puissance¹⁹. C'est autour de ce problème, qui est aussi celui de la prédestination et du libre arbitre, qu'ont lieu les discussions les plus acharnées des théologiens des premiers siècles. La solution qui finit par prévaloir, et vers laquelle s'oriente dès le début le sentiment de la majorité, accentue cette toute-puissance au point d'attribuer directement à Dieu la création des actes de Ses créatures. Dans ces conditions, la profession de foi islamique « il n'y a pas de dieu sauf Dieu », en vient à signifier, entre autres choses, « il n'y a pas d'agent sauf Dieu ». Ceci accentue à son tour le sentiment du caractère illusoire de l'existence humaine et prépare un terrain favorable aux spéculations, dérivées de l'expérience mystique, à propos du Covenant primordial et de la réflexion hellénisante sur l'Être nécessaire.

Tout ce qui existe, ou bien existe ab aeterno, ou bien a un début dans le temps. Dans le second cas, l'être qui a une origine dans le temps postule nécessairement un être éternel. Ce dernier est un être nécessaire ; l'autre n'est que possible. Or, l'Être nécessaire existe nécessairement, l'être possible peut exister ou non, et son existence provient de l'Être nécessaire. L'Être nécessaire, qui ne saurait qu'être unique, est alors identifié au Dieu du Coran. Dieu seul a une existence nécessaire, les créatures n'existent que grâce à lui et n'ont d'existence que par lui. Mais celui qui n'existe que par un autre, autant dire qu'il n'existe pas, plus exactement qu'il n'a pas d'existence propre. La profession de foi équivaudra, ici, à « il n'y a pas d'être sauf Dieu ».

La terminologie philosophique arabe n'est pas exactement superposable à la terminologie à laquelle nous a habitués la scolastique chrétienne, qui a développé certains thèmes transmis par les philosophes arabes dans un sens différent. Ainsi la distinction entre l'être, l'essence et l'existence, basée sur la distinction entre l'Être nécessaire et l'être possible, ne se retrouve pas sous cette forme chez les penseurs musulmans qui nous intéressent. Le terme wujûd ²⁰ désigne tantôt l'un tantôt l'autre ; il n'est pas dérivé d'une racine signifiant à proprement parler « être », ce qui lui confère une orientation spéciale. étymologiquement, wujûd est le substantif verbal de wajada « trouver » et signifie aussi bien « le fait de trouver » que « le fait de se trouver ». Dans la première acception, le terme est couramment employé par le soufisme en connexion avec deux autres, dérivés de la même racine, tawâjud et wajd. Le premier désigne l'effort pour provoquer l'état du wajd et, équivaut très souvent a la danse par laquelle on cherche à entrer en extase ; quant au wajd, il est la recherche nostalgique de Dieu, le désir de sa rencontre. C'est cette dernière qui est désignée par le mot wujûd.

En ce qui concerne le wujûd, il intervient lorsqu'on a dépassé le wajd ; et le wujûd de Dieu n'a lieu qu'après l'extinction de la nature humaine, car il n'y a pas de persistance possible pour la nature humaine lorsque apparaît la puissance de la réalité. C'est ce qu'entend dire Abû 'l-Hasan al-Nûri : « Depuis vingt ans je me trouve entre le wajd et la perte (faqd) », c'est-à-dire « lorsque je trouve mon Seigneur, je perds mon coeur ; et lorsque je trouve mon coeur, je perds mon Seigneur ».²¹ C'est à quoi pense également al-Junaid en

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disant : « La science du tawhîd élimine son wujûd et son wujûd élimine sa science. » A ce sujet on récite :

Mon wujûd est que je disparaisse devant le wujûd par la part de la contemplation (suhûd) qui m'apparaît. »

Le tawâjud est le début, le wujûd l'aboutissement, tandis que le wajd est l'intermédiaire entre le point de départ et l'aboutissement. J'entendis dire le maître Abû ‘Alî al-Daqqâq : « Le tawâjud exige de l'homme l'application, le wajd l'absorption, le wujûd la disparition. C'est comme quand quelqu'un contemple la mer, y entre, s'y noie. L'ordre est ici : tout d'abord résolution, ensuite pénétration, ensuite contemplation (suhûd), ensuite wujûd , ensuite extinction, et c'est selon la quantité de wujûd que l'on possède qu'on acquiert l'extinction. Celui qui possède le wujûd , est soit (en état de) sobriété (sahw), soit dans celui d'absorption (mahw). L'état de sobriété, c'est sa persistance en Dieu ; celui d'absorption, sa disparition en Dieu. Ces deux états se suivent toujours l'un l'autre. Lorsque c'est la sobriété qui l'emporte en lui, c'est Dieu qui remue en lui et qui s'exprime par lui. Le Prophète dit en parlant de Dieu : « Et c'est par moi qu'il entend et c'est par moi qu'il voit » (Qusairî, Risâla, éd. Le Caire, 1367/1948, p. 34 s. ; cf. Gisû Dirâz, Sahr-i Risâla-i qusairîya, p. 285 et suiv.).

Intentionnellement, nous avons laissé le terme wujûd tel quel sans le traduire. D'une façon générale, il est impossible de rendre dans une langue occidentale le jeu des racines arabes sans trahir les nuances qu'elles recèlent. C'est ainsi que, dans le vers cité, suhûd veut bien dire « expérience » ou « contemplation » ; mais par son autre sens, celui de « présence », il s'oppose aux mots « que je disparaisse » (an aghiba) du premier hémistiche ; donc : il faut que je disparaisse par ma présence (qui est en même temps une perception). De cette polyvalence sémantique, wujûd

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offre un autre exemple. C'est bien le fait de « trouver » Dieu, mais aussi celui de « se trouver », d' « être présent », d' « être ».

D'une façon analogue, lorsqu'on dit que le wujûd de Dieu apparaît après l'extinction de la nature humaine (ou inversement), il ne s'agit pas seulement de l' « expérience » que le mystique a de lui, mais aussi de sa présence. Au bout du chemin mystique, seul Dieu est présent. Le saint peut alors disparaître complètement en Dieu : c'est l'état du fanâ ' ; il peut aussi, à d'autres moments, « subsister » par Dieu : c'est l'état du baqa '. Mais dans les deux cas, c'est Dieu qui agit en lui.

Le concept de wujûd est ainsi un concept beaucoup plus dynamique que ceux que nous désignons par les termes « être », ou « existence ». La wahdat al-wujûd n'est pas simplement l'unicité de l'être, mais aussi celle de son existenciation et de sa perception : wujûd est quasi synonyme de suhûd.²²

Un des premiers théoriciens de l'expérience mystique, et notamment de celle de Bistâmî, a été Abû'l-Qâsim al-Junaid, le vénérable maître de l'école soufie de Bagdad, une des autorités les plus estimées du soufisme. Descendant d'une famille originaire de Nihâvand, dans l'Ouest de la Perse, mais établie depuis quelque temps à Bagdad, Junaid fut élevé, après la mort de son père, par son oncle Sarî al-Saqatî, qui fut également son premier initiateur à la vie mystique. Il commença pourtant par étudier la tradition et le droit, et attachera toujours beaucoup d'importance à cette formation. Plus tard, il fit un apprentissage systématique du soufisme, auprès de maîtres comme Ma‘rûf Karkhî ou Hârith al-Muhâsibî.

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A son tour, il devint le maître de nombreux mystiques tels qu'Abû Bakr al-Siblî, Ga'far al-Khuldî, Abû Alî al-Rûdhbârî, Husain b. Mansûr al-Hallâj ; parmi ses amis, il faut citer d'autres noms célèbres dans les annales du soufisme, Ibn 'Atâ, Ruwaim, Abû ‘l-Husain al Nûri, etc.

Les écrits de Junaid que nous possédons sont de la plus haute importance pour le développement de la théosophie soufie ; c'est un des cas les plus anciens où celle-ci nous apparaît, et elle apparaît toute formée.

Son caractère ésotérique est évident. Souvent, l'auteur dit qu'il ne lui est pas possible de dire plus sur un sujet ou met en garde ses correspondants devant la divulgation de secrets qu'il leur confie : discipline d'arcane, interdiction de dire certaines choses à des esprits qui n'y sont pas préparés, pudeur du mystique à décrire ses expériences les plus élevées. Le secret ésotérique n'implique pas nécessairement que les doctrines que l'on professe soient en contradiction avec l'orthodoxie, ni que l'on joue double jeu : il y a plutôt la crainte que des esprits incapables d'assimiler certaines vérités ne les considèrent comme hétérodoxes.

Le point de départ de la spéculation de Junaid est la profession de foi islamique, le tawhîd : « Il n'y a pas de dieu sauf Dieu. » Selon les individus, ce tawhîd revêt des formes différentes. Celui des gens du commun affirme bien l'unicité de Dieu et son caractère incomparable, mais implique encore l'espoir ou la peur dont l'objet n'est pas Dieu. Celui des hommes qui connaissent bien la science ésotérique implique en outre l'accomplissement extérieur des actions prescrites et l'omission des actions interdites, tout en restant dominé par l'espoir et par la crainte. Le premier type du tawhîd de l'élite implique l'observation extérieure et intérieure des commandements, la disparition complète de la crainte et de l'espoir dont l'objet ne serait pas Dieu, tout cela découlant de la prise de conscience de la présence de Dieu.

La deuxième catégorie du tawhîd de l'élite est que la personne (de l'homme) se trouve face à face avec Dieu sans qu'il y ait de tiers entre eux ; les interventions de Son commandement se déversent sur lui, dans les rivières des ordres de Sa puissance, dans l'abîme des océans de Son Unité ; de sorte que son individualité disparaît, de même que l'appel que Dieu lui a adressé et la réponse qu'il Lui a donnée, dans les réalités profondes du wujûd de Son Unicité, dans la réalité de Sa proximité ; ses sens et ses mouvements l'ont abandonné afin que Dieu s'établisse en lui en ce qu'Il a voulu pour lui²³. Le sens de cela est que le serviteur a fini par rejoindre son point de départ, qu'il est devenu tel qu'il était avant qu'il ne fût. Ce qui l'indique, ce sont les paroles du Puissant et Majestueux : « Lorsque ton Seigneur tira des reins des fils d'Adam leur descendance et les fit témoigner sur eux-mêmes : « Ne ‘suis-je point votre Seigneur ?’, ils dirent : ‘Si.’ » Mais qui était, et comment était-il avant qu'il ne fût ? Personne d'autre a-t-il répondu que les esprits purs, légers et saints en qui étaient présentes la puissance pénétrante et la volonté complète ? Il est maintenant parce qu'il était avant qu'il ne fût. Telle est la réalité suprême du tawhîd professé par celui qui atteste l'Unique après s'être dépouillé de son individualité (Rasâ'il al-Junaid, éd. Abdel-Kader, 56 s.).

Le Covenant primordial se place ainsi au centre de la spéculation. C'est la réflexion sur lui qui permet de donner des réponses aussi bien aux problèmes ontologiques qu'à celui de l'union mystique. La

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première question qui se pose est celle du statut ontologique des hommes lors du Covenant. On trouve une réponse plus élaborée dans le Kitâb al-Mithâq le Livre du Covenant. Après avoir constaté qu'il existe une élite de serviteurs de Dieu, que Dieu a distingués par son amitié et à qui il a conféré des grâces, Junaid continue :

Il leur donna libre accès aux abîmes des mystères de la malakût ; leur seul refuge est vers Lui, leur seul point de repos en Lui. Ce sont eux qu'Il fit exister devant Lui dans l'être prééternel chez Lui et dans (Son) Unité auprès de Lui. Lorsqu'Il les appela et qu'ils répondirent précipitamment, ce fut par une grâce qui leur venait de Lui et par une faveur. Il y répondit pour eux en leur conférant existence, et ils étaient un appel venant de Lui. Il se fit connaître Lui-même d'eux pendant qu'ils n'étaient que le dessein qu'Il avait conçu en Lui-même ; Il les transposa par Sa volonté et les posa comme des semences qu'Il produisit en tant que créatures selon Son dessein. Et Il en fit la semence d'Adam — salut sur Lui ! Le Puissant et le Majestueux dit : « Lorsque ton Seigneur tira des reins des fils d'Adam leur descendance et les fit témoigner sur eux-mêmes : « Ne suis-je point votre Seigneur ? », ils dirent : « Si ». » Dieu fit ici savoir qu'Il s'adressait à eux alors qu'ils n'existaient qu'en tant qu'Il les existenciait (illa bi-wujûdi-hi la-hum, litt. qu'en tant qu'Il les trouvait). Ils percevaient alors Dieu sans qu'ils se perçussent eux-mêmes, tandis que Dieu était en vérité présent d'une façon qui demeure inconnue à tout autre que Lui et que personne d'autre ne saurait trouver. En les « trouvant », embrassant, contemplant, Il les créa à l'état d'extinction (fanâ') . Tels qu'ils étaient dans la prééternité de la prééternité, tels ils existent, éteints à l'état de leur extinction, perdurants à l'état de leur persistance. Les attributs seigneuriaux, les vestiges prééternels et les signes perdurables les ont absorbés. Il fit transparaître cela en eux lorsqu'Il voulut leur extinction afin que dure leur persistance là-bas, pour leur révéler, dans la science des choses cachées, Son propre mystère, et pour leur faire voir les abîmes cachés de Sa science et les réunir avec Lui-même. Ensuite, Il les sépara (de Lui) et les rendit absents dans leur union et présents dans leur séparation ; leur absence devint la cause de leur présence et leur présence la cause de leur absence. Il les ravit par des signes qu'Il leur fit apparaître, en les rendant présents ; et Il les en priva en les rendant absents. Il parfit leur extinction dans l'état de leur persistance et leur persistance dans l'état de leur extinction. Les choses les absorbent lorsque Sa volonté se déverse sur eux selon ce qu'Il a voulu, conformément à son attribut sublime qu'Il ne partage avec personne. Cette (leur) existence est l'existence la plus complète, la plus fondamentale, la plus sublime et la plus apte à recevoir la violence, le triomphe et la domination véritable qui se déversent sur eux venant de Lui, de sorte que leur trace dispraît, que leurs signes s'évanouissent et que leur exis-tence s'en va. Il n'y a pas alors d'attributs humains, ni d'existence qui puisse être connue, ni de vestiges perceptibles ; car tout cela constitue des voiles qui cachent aux esprits ce qui leur appartient de prééternité (ibid., p. 41 et suiv.).

La place nous manque pour citer davantage, mais ce passage donne une idée de la doctrine de Junaid. La spéculation sur le Covenant se situe sur deux plans logiquement distincts : celui de l'événement « historique », dont l'interprétation engage le statut ontologique de l'homme, voire une philosophie de l'être ; celui, plus restreint, de l'expérience mystique.

L'état primitif de l'esprit humain est celui qu'il possédait le jour du Covenant, où il n'était qu'une idée en Dieu et n'avait pas d'existence propre. Ce genre d'existence était pourtant plus parfait que celui qu'il possède actuellement, et ses délices incomparables. Détaché de l'Unité divine, il devient

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présent au monde ; détaché du monde, il est présent à Dieu. Il oscille ainsi entre ces deux états qui sont celui de son absorption en Dieu et de sa persistance par Dieu.

Cette oscillation entre les deux états explique l'union mystique. Ayant atteint le sommet du tawhîd, le mystique retrouve l'état qui fut le sien lors du Covenant primordial ; mais l'état d'extinction ne dure pas, Dieu ramène le saint à l'état de sobriété et le rend au monde. Ce processus est comparable à ce qui se passe depuis le Covenant quand Dieu, après avoir conclu un pacte avec les hommes qui n'existent qu'en Lui, les crée dans le monde et les y fait agir. La seule différence semble être que, désormais, le mystique est conscient de toutes ces réalités et que, tout en ayant retrouvé son individualité, il vit dans l'intimité de Dieu. Tour à tour, il se trouve à l'état du fanâ ' et à celui du baqa ' et c'est le rythme de cette alternance qui caractérise le degré qu'il a atteint. Elle n'empêche pas son action dans le monde, bien plutôt elle la rend possible ; et c'est seulement ainsi qu'il peut « appeler » les autres hommes à Dieu.

Il convient de souligner ici certains aspects de la doctrine étudiée. Les esprits humains ont une existence intermittente, ou plutôt leur mode d'existence change, tantôt ils existent en Dieu, tantôt se trouvent séparés de lui. Dans les deux cas, leur être, leur wujûd, vient de lui ; mais jamais ils ne deviennent Dieu ni ne s'identifient à lui. Ils se dépouillent de leurs qualités humaines, n'ont plus d'existence autre que celle de Dieu, existent dans son Unité, mais ils ne sont pas Dieu. Contrairement à la mystique hellénistique et chrétienne, le but que se propose la mystique musulmane n'est pas une déification, mais le dépouillement des attributs humains et l'assomption des attributs divins²⁴.

C'est à la lumière de ces faits qu'il faut comprendre la coexistence, chez le même auteur, de deux attitudes qui paraissent à première vue contradictoires : l'affirmation de l'unicité de l'être et la répudiation de toute idée d'union substantielle (ittihad) dans l'expérience mystique. Les deux découlent simplement et logiquement du monothéisme intransigeant qui est celui de l'Islam ; les spéculations de Junaid sont un des exemples les plus anciens de leur formulation.

Nous comprenons aussi pourquoi, pour Junaid, l'expérience mystique d'un Bistâmî ne l'a pas mené bien loin. Selon le maître de Bagdad, Abû Yazîd s'est enivré des premiers feux de l'extase où tout avait disparu sauf son propre moi, et c'est cela qu'il a pris pour l'union avec Dieu.

Tels que nous les voyons aujourd'hui, les écrits de Junaid présentent la théosophie soufie arrivée à sa maturité. Solidement fondée sur les données coraniques, elle reste fidèle à l'inspiration profonde de l'islam, à sa représentation d'un Dieu Unique et Tout-Puissant, à ses images et à ses symboles. Une certaine influence néo-platonicienne se fait peut-être sentir, beaucoup plus d'ailleurs dans la description de l'union mystique que dans l'interprétation métaphysique. Les éléments proprement gnostiques, par contre, semblent totalement absents.

Spéculations métaphysiques, imagerie gnostique, réflexions cabalistiques sur les lettres de l'alphabet jouent, par contre, un rôle de tout premier plan dans

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les écrits du disciple le plus fameux de Junaid, Husain ibn Mansûr al-Hallâj.

Son cas est une cause célèbre. Renié par les soufis, condamné pour hérésie, mort d'une mort ignominieuse, il devient, plus tard, l'expression la plus pure de l'amour de Dieu dont il fut le martyr. Son gibet, notamment dans la poésie persane, turque et indienne, est le symbole même de l'union mystique.

Il n'est pas facile de le juger. Dans les écrits qui sont parvenus jusqu'à nous, on sent le souffle passionné avec lequel il propose des doctrines sensiblement analogues à celles de Junaid, sous un revêtement gnostique plus apparent, en usant d'un vocabulaire proche de celui des ismaéliens. La forme sous laquelle il présente sa collection de traditions, où les chaînes des transmetteurs habituelles sont remplacées par celles des entités métaphysiques, témoigne à tout le moins de sa volonté de confirmer des prescriptions religieuses par une inspiration directe. Quant aux traditions concernant Hallâj, il y a eu certainement des retouches, et non pas seulement pour rendre ses paroles plus acceptables ; on peut se demander, notamment, dans quelle mesure sont authentiques les allusions que font au supplice qui l'attend des propos qui lui sont attribués.

Né en 244 de l'hégire à Baidhâ. dans le Fars, Hallâj fut élevé à Wâsit en Irak. Son premier maître en soufisme fut Sahl Tustarî, à Ahwâz. Plus tard, à Bagdad, il devint le disciple de Gunaid²⁵. Il fréquenta ainsi les soufis pendant une vingtaine d'années ; mais cette fréquentation se termina par une rupture. Horrifié par ses audaces, Gunaid finit par le répudier. Hallâg partit alors pour prêcher sa doctrine et répandre l'islam dans les pays les plus lointains, l'Inde, le Turkestan ; il parcourut la Perse, alla jusqu'à Jérusalem et fit trois fois le pèlerinage de La Mecque. Revenu à Bagdad, il se mit à prêcher en public, et sa prédication rencontra des résistances. Emprisonné en 301 de l'hégire, accusé d'être un dâ’i qarmate, il fut détenu pendant neuf ans ; finalement, en 309, eut lieu un second procès, sous l'inculpation d'usurpation de la divinité. Il fut condamné et mis à mort. Son cadavre fut brûlé et ses cendres jetées dans le Tigre.

La doctrine de Hallâg ne diffère pas sensiblement de celle de Gunaid, mais il la prêche avec beaucoup plus de passion, ouvertement, sans les précautions dont s'entoure le maître. Dans un passage célèbre, il se présente comme le signe de Dieu et s'écrie en extase Anâ'l-haqq « Je suis la Vérité », c'est-à-dire « Je suis Dieu ». Certaines expressions laissent voir qu'il enseignait effectivement l'incarnation de l'Esprit Saint dans l'âme purifiée du mystique dont les actions devenaient des actions divines. Un hérésiographe rapporte à son sujet :

Il dit : « Celui qui dompte son âme par des actes d'obéissance et s'abstient de donner libre cours aux jouissances et aux passions, s'élève au rang des Très-Proches; il ne cesse alors de se purifier et traverse les degrés de purification jusqu'à ce qu'il soit dépouillé de la nature humaine. Lorsque rien d'humain n'est resté en lui, alors s'infuse en lui l'Esprit de Dieu qui s'était infusé en Jésus, fils de Marie. Il ne désire plus rien d'autre que ce que Dieu a voulu, et toutes ses actions sont des actions de Dieu Très-Haut » (Bakdâdi, Farq bain al-firaq, Le Caire, 1367/1948, 158 s.).

Effectivement, certains de ses disciples affirmaient que Dieu se manifestait à toute époque sous la forme

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d'un homme, et qu'à leur époque Hallâg était cette manifestation. II est permis de douter que telle fut l'idée du maître lui-même ; mais l'apparition de cette secte montre bien les dangers que faisait courir la prédication de Hallâg à l'unité de la communauté islamique, unité que menaçaient à la même époque le mouvement ismaélien et les insurrections qarmates. C'est pour cela qu'il fut condamné. Les soufis diront plus tard : pour avoir trahi la discipline d'arcane — ce qui est la même chose, envisagée d'un point de vue différent.

La répression eut vite raison des Hallâgîya en tant que secte autonome, mais les soufis, dont la majorité l'avaient renié de son vivant, ne tardèrent pas à le prendre pour l'exemple le plus parfait du pur amour. Les rares écrits qui restent de lui seront cités et utilisés ; son cri Anâ'l-haqq, son gibet s'imposeront comme symboles ; des versets isolés de ses poèmes, plus rarement des qasîda entières, seront récités. Un des fragments les plus connus est :

« Je suis celui que j'aime, et celui que j'aime est moi. Nous sommes deux esprits infus en un seul corps. Si tu me vois, tu le vois ; et si tu le vois, tu me vois. » (Le Divan d'al-Hallâg, éd. Massignon, M 57.)

Ce fragment contient une allusion à l'incarnation, ce qui ne sera plus admis après Hallâg. D'autres présentent des accents qui paraîtront plus acceptables, notamment lorsque le mystique affirme l'identité profonde de son être avec celui de Dieu :

« O secret de mon secret, tu es si ténu que tu demeures caché à l'imagination de tout, vivant.

Manifeste ou caché tu te révèles dans toute chose à toute chose,

De sorte que, si je m'excuse devant toi, c'est ignorance,

énormité de doute, exagération de verbiage.

O réunion du tout, tu n'es pas autre que moi,

et mon excuse ne s'adresse, alors, qu'à moi-même. » (Ibid., M 68.)

Un autre fragment propose une métaphore qui sera développée par des mystiques postérieurs et dont Ghazali fera le point de départ de son Miskât al-anwâr :

‘Pour les lumières de la lumière de la religion parmi les [créatures il y a des lumières, Pour le secret, il y a des secrets dans le secret de ceux [qui le cachent, Pour l'existence, il y a parmi les existences celle d'un Existenciateur… » (Ibid., M 22.)

D'autres fragments attestent la prise de conscience de son élection, de son union avec Dieu. Mais tout aussi souvent il parle de son extrême humilité, de son désir d'être méprisé, de mourir, d'être tué :

« Tuez-moi, ô mes amis, car c'est dans mon meurtre qu'est ma vie,

Ma mort est dans ma vie, et ma vie est dans ma mort.

En vérité, selon moi la disparition de mon essence est une des faveurs insignes

Et ma persistance tel que je suis est un des pires péchés… (Ibid., Qasida 10.)

Dans un récit, nous voyons Hallâg appeler les musulmans à le tuer et affirmer qu'il n'y a pas pour eux de tache plus urgente que de le faire. Ailleurs, un habitant de Basra, ennemi convaincu du mystique, lui demande la guérison de son frère, gravement

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malade. Hallâg consent à condition que le demandeur continue à s'opposer à lui, à le taxer encore davantage d'infidèle, à travailler à le faire tuer. Ces récits ne sont pas isolés, et nous comprenons pourquoi le mystique peut proclamer que les deux damnés, Pharaon et Iblîs, sont ses maîtres.

Toute proportion gardée, l'attitude adoptée par Hallâg dans l'histoire de l'habitant de Basra est analogue à celle de Théophile et Marie dans le récit de Jean d'Éphèse que nous avons résumée en parlant du phénomène de la sitûtâ dans le mysticisme chrétien d'expression syriaque, phénomène que nous retrouvons dans le mysticisme musulman sous le nom de malâma « blâme » : Hallâg est un malâmatî.

L'attitude malâmatî est plus ancienne que l'islam, nous l'avons vu ; elle est pourtant justifiée par des références coraniques et le nom même de malâma est compris comme une allusion aux deux versets du Livre, 5, 57 et 75, 2. Dans le premier, il est question de « ceux qui combattent dans la voie de Dieu et ne craignent pas que quelqu'un les blâme (la yakhâfûna lawmata lâ'imin) » ; dans le second, il est question de « l'âme qui blâme » (al-nafs al-lawwâma). Dans la psychologie des mystiques, cette âme blâmante est la première étape de purification de l'âme qui, en elle-même, est ordonnatrice du mal. Ils s'efforcent, en conséquence, de la dompter, de la détourner de ses passions et de la purifier. Les malâmatîya se distinguent ici par le zèle tout particulier qu'ils mettent à blâmer leur âme, à se blâmer eux-mêmes. C'est qu'ils ne craignent pas le blâme des autres, et même le provoquent. L'idée de base est ici d'éviter toute ostentation dans l'accomplissement des actes de piété,

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de cacher l'état mystique qu'on a atteint, de ne pas paraître différent des autres, en un mot, de combattre toute hypocrisie et tout pharisaïsme.

Ces tendances malâmatî sont diffuses dans le soufisme dès le début. Au III^e siècle de l'hégire, elles donnent cependant naissance à un mouvement spécifique, opposé à celui des soufis. Leur centre est à Nichâpour dans le Khurâsan, leurs chefs sont des mystiques comme Al Hafs Haddâd et Hamdûn Qassâr. Nous les connaissons grâce à l'écrit que leur a consacré l'historien du soufisme, Abû ‘Abd al-Rahman al-Sulamî, mort en 421 de l'hégire. Voici comment il les caractérise. Après avoir décrit deux classes des hommes de Dieu, les oulémas et les soufis il poursuit :

La troisième classe est formée par ceux qu'on appelle les malâmatîya. Dieu Très-Haut a orné leur intérieur de grâces de différentes espèces, comme proximité, approche, union ; et ils ont éprouvé avec certitude, dans le secret de leur secret, la signification de la réunion, car aucun état n'est plus capable de les en séparer. Après qu'ils ont été fixés avec certitude en des degrés élevés, tels que réunion, proximité, intimité et union, Dieu s'est gardé de les révéler aux créatures, auxquelles il n'a révélé d'eux que leur comportement extérieur qui paraît être séparation : sciences exotériques, observance soigneuse des commandements de la Loi et des bienséances de différentes sortes, entretien des rapports sociaux. Mais ils ont conservé l'état qu'ils avaient acquis par rapport à Dieu dans l'association de la réunion et de la proximité. Et l'état le plus élevé consiste précisément en ce que l'intérieur ne se reflète pas dans le comportement extérieur. Cet état ressemble à celui du Prophète lorsque, élevé au degré le plus haut de la proximité, Il « fut à deux tirs d'arc ou moins », puis que retournant parmi les hommes, il parla avec eux des choses exté-

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rieures, sans que l'état de proximité et d'intimité qu'Il possédait influençât en quoi que ce fût son comportement extérieur. Par contre, l'état de ceux que nous avons décrits auparavant est comparable à celui de Moïse, en ce que personne ne pouvait le regarder, son visage après qu'il eût parlé avec Dieu Très-Haut ; ce qui rappelle l'état des soufis qui constituent la deuxième classe que nous avons décrite tout à l'heure : les lumières de leurs secrets apparaissent, visibles, sur eux. Aux novices qui les fréquentent, les malâmatîya enseignent les choses que l'on peut voir en eux-mêmes : l'application à accomplir ses devoirs, l'observation des sunan à tous les instants, la conformité des actions aux usages, extérieurement et intérieurement, dans toutes les circonstances. Ils ne leur inculquent pas de prétendre à des miracles et à des charismes, de les révéler ou de s'y fier, mais ils leur enseignent à réformer leur comportement et à poursuivre leurs efforts. Le novice est alors reçu dans leur voie et on lui apprend leurs usages. Lorsqu'ils s'aperçoivent qu'il exalte une de ses actions ou un de ses états, ils lui remontrent ses manquements et lui apprennent à se débarrasser de ce manquement, afin qu'ils n'exaltent aucune de leurs actions et qu'ils ne se fient à aucune. Et lorsqu'un de leurs novices prétend avoir atteint un état ou un degré, ils le déprécient à ses yeux, aussi longtemps que la sincérité de sa vocation et la manifestation des états en lui ne sont pas assurées. Ils lui enseignent le comportement qui est le leur, à savoir cacher leurs états et observer ostensiblement les usages relatifs aux commandements et aux interdictions… (Risâlât al-malâmatîya, éd. Afifi, p. 87 s.)

La définition suivante, empruntée à l'un des maîtres de malâmatîya, Abû Hafs, insiste sur d'autres aspects de leur pratique :

C'est un groupe d'hommes qui s'attachent, avec Dieu Très-Haut, à préserver leurs « moments » et à protéger leurs secrets, et se blâment eux-mêmes chaque fois qu'il leur arrive de laisser paraître quelque chose de leur proximité (à Dieu) et leurs actes d'obéissance. Ils montrent aux hommes les turpitudes de leur état, mais leur cachent leurs vertus, et les hommes les blâment pour leur comportement extérieur ; ils se blâment pour ce qu'ils savent de leur état intérieur, mais Dieu les honore en leur révélant des secrets, en leur faisant connaître des choses cachées, en leur assurant la clairvoyance parmi les hommes et en leur manifestant des miracles. Ils cachent ce qu'ils ont reçu de Dieu et ne montrent que ce qui venait d'eux-mêmes au début, à savoir le blâme de leur âme et le combat contre elle. Ils révèlent ce qui les isole, afin que les hommes les abandonnent et que s'établisse en sécurité leur rapport avec Dieu. Telle est la voie des gens du blâme (ibid., 89).

Les malâmatîya se montrent pires qu'ils ne sont, ils font même montre d'impiété, mais ce n'est qu'une apparence. Il se s'agit pour eux que de combattre l'hypocrisie :

Une partie des Amis de Dieu parmi les plus grands, comme le cheikh Yûsuf b. Husain Râzi, ont choisi la voie du blâme pour éviter l'hypocrisie. Une fois, un commerçant de Nichâpur avait une jolie esclave. Il l'envoya dans la maison du cheikh Abû'Uthmân Hîrî pour une affaire honnête. Involontairement, le regard de celui-ci se porta sur la belle et ses pensées en furent occupées. Lorsqu'il devint visible que son esprit était troublé, il soumit le cas à son maître Abû Hafs Haddâd. Celui-ci lui dit : « Va à Ray, et rends-toi auprès de Yûsuf b. al-Husain Râzî. » Abû 'Uthmân se rendit donc à Ray et s'enquit de la maison de Yûsuf ; tous ceux à qui il posait la question le blâmaient et se scandalisaient en disant : « Qu'est-ce que peut bien chercher un homme si vertueux chez un tel pécheur et hérétique? » Sans l'avoir vu, il s'en retourna honteux à Nichâpur et raconta ce qui était arrivé. Le cheikh lui dit de nouveau : « Il faut que tu ailles voir Yûsuf ! » Ne pouvant faire autrement, il repartit pour Ray. Il

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ne fit pas attention aux injures des hommes et, en s'informant ici et là, il arriva à un endroit où il n'y avait que des ruines. A I'extrémité des ruines, il trouva la maison (de Yûsuf). Il entra et salua. Yûsuf se leva, reçut Abú ‘Uthmân, lui témoigna du respect et de l'estime, lui ouvrit la porte des connaissances mystiques et des vérités profondes, et lui exposa des états sublimes et des degrés élevés. Cependant un jeune garçon de grande beauté était assis près de lui, tandis qu'une cruche (à vin) était posée à côté. Après que Yûsuf l'eut renseigné sur les degrés sublimes, Abû ‘Uthman lui demanda : « Alors que tu possèdes de telles perfections, que signifie cela ? » Yûsuf dit : « Un tyran apparut dans ce royaume et transforma cet endroit en ruines. Pour ce qui est de la maison que j'habite, elle me vient par héritage. Le garçon est mon propre fils, tandis que la cruche contient de l'eau. » Abd ‘Uthman regarda ; c'était bien de l'eau. Il dit : « J'ai reconnu qu'il n'y a là rien de contraire à la Loi. Mais pourquoi vous exposez-vous aux calomnies ? » Il dit : « Afin que les hommes ne me considèrent pas comme ascète pieux et fidèle, qu'une fille ne jette pas de dévolu sur moi et que je ne m'attache pas à elle. » Abu ‘Uthman entendit ces paroles qui décrivaient son propre cas, se jeta par terre et se mit à pleurer. Il sut que faire montre de ses vertus n'était pas agréé, et comment il fallait vivre, qu'il avait été envoyé à Ray pour apprendre la juste mesure, se séparer des hommes, ne pas vendre sa qualité d'ascète, et s'efforcer d'être humble, conformément à ce qu'a dit le Maître de l'Amitié ( ‘Ali) : « Sois pour Dieu le meilleur des hommes, sois pour toi-même le pire des hommes, sois pour les hommes comme l'un d'entre eux. » Les plus grands parmi les Amis de Dieu se sont efforcés de cacher leur état et ont soustrait aux regards des hommes leurs dévotions surérogatoires ; tandis que les imposteurs et les hypocrites perdent leur religion en faisant montre de leurs vertus et en s'efforçant de plaire aux gens du commun...(NURBAKHS, Risâla-i ma ‘âs-i sâlikîn, ms. Esad Ef. 3702, ff. 58 b-59 a.)

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Ces malâmatîya du III^e siècle de l'hégire paraissent respectueux de la Loi islamique dont ils observent scrupuleusement les prescriptions ; ils ignorent, en revanche, certaines pratiques spécifiquement soufies : séances du samâ ', du dhikr public, construction des cloîtres, port du costume spécial. Contrairement aux soufis, qui portent un costume de laine (sûf) grossière, les malâmatî portent le même costume que le milieu où ils évoluent, revêtant tout au plus un froc rapiécé, la muraqqa’a. Ce comportement fut celui de Hallâj, ce qui est un indice de plus de ses connexions malâmatî.

Faisant montre d'impiété, injuriés, méprisés des hommes, les vrais Amis de Dieu sont toujours face à face avec lui et ne le quittent pas un instant. L'attitude qu'ils adoptent n'est pourtant pas sans danger. Faire montre d'impiété peut devenir un but en soi, ce qui mène tout droit à l'antinomianisme. De là, la décadence d'un certain malamatisme, ou plutôt l'apparition d'un type de qalandar qui se signalera par ses excentricités. Mais ce n'était pas la seule évolution possible : l'attitude des anciens malâmatîya sera fidèlement préservée par un ordre aussi respectable que celui des Naqsbandiya, tandis que le fait qu'un mystique tel qu'Ibn ‘Arabi ait adopté leur nom pour désigner le courant soufi auquel il appartenait mérite toute notre attention.

Le malâmatî n'est qu'un cas spécial d'une représentation complexe et largement répandue du saint caché et méconnu, qui vit à l'écart du monde, mais dont le monde ne pourrait se passer. Cela aussi, nous l'avons constaté dans le récit de Jean d'Éphèse à l'état embryonnaire. Dans le soufisme, la doctrine

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d'une hiérarchie des saints invisibles sans laquelle le monde ne saurait subsister est largement acceptée. Il existe toujours des awliyâ, « amis (de Dieu », sg. walî), qui se distinguent de la masse des hommes par des charismes spéciaux. Leur fonction n'est pas la même que celle des prophètes. Alors que ces derniers appelaient les hommes à Dieu, soit en proposant une Loi nouvelle — c'est le cas des ‘ulû 'l- ‘azm, Adam, Noé, Abraham, Moïse et Jésus —, soit en luttant pour l'observation d'une loi déjà existante, les awliyâ se consacrent exclusivement à leur perfection intérieure. Désormais, le cycle de la prophétie est fini, le Prophète de l'islam a été le Sceau des Prophètes et la Loi qui lui fut révélée la dernière. Les oulémas veillent à son application, l'enseignent aux hommes et, en cette qualité, sont les héritiers des Prophètes.

Or, selon une théorie répandue dans les milieux soufis, la prophétie possède une double face : la nubuwwa, « prophétie » proprement dite, et la walâya. La seconde est tournée vers Dieu, dont le prophète reçoit l'influx ; la première est tournée vers les hommes à qui il le transmet. Tout prophète est également walî, mais tout walî n'est pas prophète.

A partir de ces données, on discute sur les mérites respectifs des prophètes et des awliyâ. Rares sont ceux qui admettent expressément la supériorité des seconds ; parfois on distingue : la walâya est supérieure à la nubuwwa, mais c'est par sa walâya que le Prophète de l'islam était supérieur à tous les autres. D'autres, comme ‘Alâ' al-Dawla Simnânî, au VIII^e siècle de l'hégire, apporteront des distinctions encore plus subtiles, en se basant, sur les deux vocalisations possibles du terme, walâya et wilâya, la première étant réservée aux prophètes, la seconde aux autres awliyâ.

Un cas spécial de la doctrine de la walâya est l'imamologie chiite. Les chiites considèrent leurs imams comme de véritables awliyâ. Guidés par l'inspiration divine, les imams interprètent infailliblement le Coran et en révèlent le sens caché. Selon un hadith célèbre, Muhammad a combattu pour la révélation (tanzîl) du Coran, ‘Alî pour son sens ésotérique (ta’wîl). Les imams chiites mènent une vie retirée, le dernier est caché. Pourtant, sans lui, le monde s'écroulerait. Il est toujours là, il est le Maître de l'époque. Un jour, il reviendra, et alors le sens caché de toutes choses apparaîtra et les réalités ultimes pourront être enseignées à tout le monde. Pour l'instant, ce n'est qu'un savoir ésotérique qu'il ne faut pas trahir, et les adeptes eux-mêmes ont la permission, voire l'obligation, de ne pas s'avouer tels devant les non-initiés et les adversaires. Telle est la justification théorique de la pratique de la taqîya, le devoir de renier extérieurement ses convictions lorsqu'il y a danger de mort. Il s'agit, en fait, d'une variante de l'attitude malâmatî.

L'imam caché des chiites trouve son pendant dans la doctrine soufie d'un pôle, qutb, qui se trouve à la tête d'une hiérarchie invisible d'awliyâ et qui doit toujours exister, car autrement le monde s'écroulerait Lorsqu'un qutb meurt, il est immédiatement remplacé par le walî qui occupait, sous lui, l'échelon hiérarchique le plus élevé, tandis que la place de ce dernier est prise par un autre, etc. Ne voulant pas analyser ici la structure de cette hiérarchie compliquée des abdâl, des awlâd, etc., structure qui n'est

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pas constante chez les divers auteurs, nous nous bornerons à citer quelques passages de Simnânî :

Ils ont la même nature humaine que nous, ils mangent, boivent, font des excréments, urinent, tombent malades et se soignent, ils vendent et achètent et se procurent sur les marchés les choses dont ils ont besoin, à cette différence près que, lorsqu'un d'eux est entré dans leur cercle, il quitte ses femmes et ses enfants et ne revient plus... Un de leurs charismes propres est de disparaître à volonté aux yeux des hommes. Ils entrent dans les mosquées et prient derrière les imams des musulmans de quelque rite qu'ils soient, à cela près qu'ils aiment accomplir la prière en groupe au début du temps prescrit. Un de mes compagnons entra dans leur cercle ; il s'appelait Zarrinkamar, je l'ai appelé ‘Abd al-Karîm. Il resta dans leur cercle environ dix ans, avant de mourir, après 720. Leurs tombes sont au ras du sol, et personne d'autre qu'eux-mêmes ne les connaît. Ils ont des vicaires parmi les hommes, ils les connaissent, mais les vicaires ne les connaissent pas. Au temps du Prophète, Hilâl fut un des sept vicaires. Hadhîfa b. al-Yaman transmettait leur salut au Prophète et à eux le salut du Prophète. Il leur fut ordonné de suivre le Prophète et d'accepter sa Loi sans qu'il les connût dans le monde sensible. A toute époque, ils ne fréquentent qu'un seul homme parmi ceux qui vivent dans le monde sensible. Lorsque cet homme unique meurt, ils en fréquentent un autre, sur l'ordre de Dieu. A l'époque de Junaid, Mimsâd al-Dinavarî fut cet homme unique (qu'ils fréquentaient). Quant au pôle, c'était, à l'époque du Prophète, ‘Usam al-Qarnî, oncle paternel de ‘Uwais. Quant au qutb dont Dieu a honoré notre époque, il est le dix-neuvième depuis l'époque du Prophète… (Safwat al- ‘urwa, ms. Laleli 1432, f. 120 b-121 b.)

Le prototype du qutb est, pour Ihn ‘Arabi, Salmân Fârsî l'étranger, accueilli dans la famille du Prophète

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dont il partage les privilèges grâce à une adoption spirituelle. Pour Simnânî, c'est un oncle de ‘Uwais Qaranî, cet ascète du Yémen dont le parfum de sainteté était parvenu jusqu'au Prophète, qui ne l'a jamais vu : ayant une mère âgée, il ne voulait pas la quitter et il gagnait leur subsistance à tous deux en gardant des chameaux. Le Prophète lui légua son manteau, qu'il reçut en effet de la main de ‘Umar et de ‘Alî. Les gens du Yémen ignoraient sa sainteté et lorsque les deux califes envoyèrent des hommes le chercher, on parut étonné par l'intérêt dont était objet un homme aussi insignifiant. Uwais est donc malâmatî, et cette qualité s'exprime dans la tradition selon laquelle, le jour de la résurrection, au moment où ‘Uwais sera sur le point de monter au paradis, Dieu créera soixante-dix mille anges ayant la même apparence que lui, afin qu'il ne soit pas reconnu. Car, selon un hadîth qudsi célèbre, « Mes Amis sont sous mes tentes, personne d'autre que moi ne les connaît ».

Mais l'importance que les traditions relatives à ‘Uwais présentent pour la physionomie spirituelle du soufisme est ailleurs. Ce Yéménite, qui n'a jamais vu le Prophète, n'en est pas moins devenu un musulman parfait. On appellera ‘uwaisî des mystiques qui n'auront pas de maître vivant et recevront leur initiation en esprit d'un saint mort depuis longtemps ou d'un saint qu'ils n'auront jamais vu. Nous rencontrons des ‘uwaisî surtout dans des chaînes initiatiques qui se rattachent d'une façon ou d'une autre au malâmatisme, telle la chaîne initiatique des Naqsbandiya où, après Salmân, nous trouvons Abd Yazîd Bistâmî, instruit en esprit par l'imam Ga`far, Abû'l-Qâsim Kharraqâni instruit en esprit par Bis-

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tâmî, Naqsband lui-même instruit en esprit par ‘Abd al-Khâliq Ghugduwânî.

Les aspects malâmatî n'épuisent pas l'image de awliyâ. Ceux-ci sont bien des Amis de Dieu, Ses proches, des initiés ; mais, bien qu'ils « n'appellent » pas les hommes à Dieu, ils ont leurs adeptes qu'ils guident, perfectionnent et initient. Les soufis se considèrent comme étant ces awliyâ et les maîtres soufis forment toujours de nouveaux adeptes. Mentionnons ici un cas isolé où cet état des choses se reflète dans la terminologie. Dans un traité écrit en persan, ‘Ammar Bidlîsî (fin VI^e siècle h.) distingue entre un walî, qui est un mystique arrivé au but, mais qui ne s'occupe pas de la formation des autres, et un walî muwallî qui s'occupe activement du progrès des autres.

La hiérarchie invisible des qutb et des abdâl est communément admise dans le soufisme ; plus rare est la représentation du « Sceau des awliyâ ». Tout comme la prophétie a un Sceau — Muhammad, la walâya en a un, dont l'avènement est en général considéré comme futur. Très souvent, ce Sceau de la walâya est identifié avec le Mahdi dont l'avènement est attendu pour la fin des temps. Le Mahdi est très souvent — mais pas toujours — l'imam caché des duodécimains ; de temps à autre, des soufis ont prétendu être le Mahdi, ce qui aboutissait chaque fois à la formation de sectes autonomes. Tel était le cas, au IX^e siècle de l'hégire, du Sayyid Muhammad Nûrbakhs en Iran et, au siècle suivant, celui du Sayyid Muhammad Jaunpûri dans l'Inde. D'autres identifient le Sceau de la walâya avec Jésus qui, selon une tradition bien connue, doit descendre un jour sur le minaret de la mosquée de Damas. Ibn ‘Arabi dédouble le personnage et distingue entre le Sceau de la walâya absolue et le Sceau de la walâya muhammadienne. Il ne manque pas, d'autre part, d'auteurs — tel ‘Alâ' al-Dawla Simnânî — qui intériorisent toute la tradition et, voient dans l'avènement du Mahdi le symbole de la sanctification intérieure de l'homme.

Le premier auteur qui ait proposé la doctrine du Sceau de la walâya semble avoir été, au III^e siècle de l'hégire, Muhammad ibn ‘Alî Hakim Tirmidhî, que nous avons déjà rencontré en parlant de la distinction des deux classes de serviteurs de Dieu, ceux du sidq et ceux de la minna, distinction apparentée à celle proposée par les théoriciens du malâmatisme (elle apparaît aussi chez Gunaid, qui distingue entre le sidq et l'ikhlâs). Tirmidhî semble en effet proche des malâmatîya, qui subirent avec le temps l'influence de certaines de ses idées, et cette influence se perpétuera chez les Naqsbandiya. L'ouvrage principal de Tirmidhî, Khalam al-walâya, a, d'autre part, influencé profondément Ibn ‘Arabi.

NOTE BIBLIOGRAPHIQUE [omise]

CHAPITRE IV LA MATURITÉ

Au début du IV^e siècle de l'hégire, le soufisme a atteint sa maturité. Ses pratiques sont plus ou moins fixées, sa doctrine ébauchée. Le temps est venu du travail en profondeur, de l'élargissement des bases, de l'expansion à l'intérieur du monde islamique, de l'activité missionnaire au dehors.

Ce IV^e siècle de l'islam est celui où l'influence chiite est la plus forte, et où le califat abbaside, réduit à l'impuissance, est près de succomber.

Le soufisme est appelé à jouer un rôle de tout premier plan dans cet antagonisme, mais ce n'est pas un rôle confortable. Partageant les sentiments pro-’alides avec la grande majorité des musulmans, les soufis seront accusés, à certaines époques et dans certains pays, d'être des agents chiites. Le procès de Hallâj est un bon exemple de ces risques. Nous avons déjà mentionné le cas des soufis qui, tout le long de l'histoire de l'islam, se sont proclamés Mahdi, et c'est un développement qui, dans les conditions particulières des congrégations soufies demeure toujours possible. Le mahdisme a forcément un aspect politique et des mystiques fonderont des états

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d'inspiration chiite : tel cet Etat des Sarbadar, au VIIIe siècle de l'hégire, dans le Khurâsân, et surtout celui des Safavides, un bon siècle plus tard : chefs d'un ordre religieux sunnite, les descendants de Safî al-Dîn Ardabîlî obtiennent l'adhésion de tribus turkmènes chiites d'Anatolie, se proclament descendants du Prophète, passent au chiisme et finissent par établir un état chiite en Iran. A partir de ce moment, des soufis de tendance chiite pourront de nouveau être soupçonnés de propagande politique et persécutés comme émissaires safavides : nombreux seront les mystiques turcs qui, au X^e et au XI^e siècle de l'hégire, paieront de leur vie leurs convictions religieuses.

Mais, la plupart du temps, les soufis n'ont pas d'aspiration politique ; leur attachement à la famille de ‘Alî est sentimental et se concilie avec des convictions sunnites sincères ; de plus le chiisme organisé se montre beaucoup plus défavorable aux mystiques que le sunnisme. Un des reproches les plus fréquents adressés par les oulémas chiites aux soufis est, précisément, leur appartenance au sunnisme.

C'est que, tout en professant des idées voisines de celles que propageaient les différentes sectes chiites, les soufis leur donnaient une forme sunnite, compatible avec l'appartenance à la communauté majoritaire dont ils ne voulaient pas se séparer. A des esprits tourmentés, les cercles des mystiques ouvraient une possibilité de vivre une vie spirituelle intense et exaltée, mais qui ne débouchait pas, comme les associations secrètes des ismaéliens, sur une perspective politique et la rupture avec la grande masse des croyants. Dans ces conditions, les congrégations soufies jouaient un rôle de défense sunnite, canalisant au profit de la communauté des ferments spirituels qui, autrement, auraient pu contribuer à sa dislocation. Certains gouvernements surent tirer parti de cette situation. Au moment de la restauration sunnite, dans la deuxième moitié du V^e siècle de l'hégire, le danger principal était constitué par la propagande ismaélienne. Le grand vizir seldjoukide, Nizâm al-Mulk, favorisa alors la fondation aussi bien des madrasa, écoles pour théologiens, que celle des cloîtres soufis. La doctrine ach‘arite, enseignée à la Nizâmiya de Bagdad comme à celle de Nichâpûr, était un instrument efficace pour s'opposer à la diffusion de la théosophie ismaélienne propagée du Caire. Les cheikhs soufis enseignaient, pour leur part, une doctrine ésotérique et initiatique de structure voisine, mais avec des intentions opposées, de celle que colportaient les missionnaires d'Alamût. Des phénomènes analogues se reproduiront plus tard, sous les Mamelouks en Égypte et en Syrie, sous les Ottomans en Anatolie.

Ce rôle de défense sunnite n'empêcha pas des oulémas d'attaquer les derviches, de leur reprocher leur impiété, leurs doctrines incompatibles avec les principes de l'islam tel qu'ils le concevaient. Il s'agit de deux familles spirituelles différentes, dont la coexistence et l'antagonisme paraissent caractéristiques de la civilisation islamique. Mais cet antagonisme n'implique pas que le soufisme ait eu besoin d'être réconcilié avec l'orthodoxie musulmane. Il aurait fallu pour cela qu'il en fût sorti, qu'il se fût développé en dehors de cette orthodoxie et contre elle, ce qui ne fut jamais le cas. A toute époque, il y eut des soufis qui étaient

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en même temps juristes : le cas de Junaid est bien connu, et il ne fut pas le seul. Leurs doctrines ne sont pas exclusives de la Loi, elles s'y ajoutent. Les pratiques particulières aux mystiques n'occupent qu'une place relativement restreinte dans leur vie ; pour le reste, ils partagent les peines et les labeurs des autres croyants.

Les manuels du soufisme sont ainsi de deux sortes. Certains se limitent à décrire ce qui est particulier à ses adeptes, à exposer leurs doctrines et leurs expériences ; d'autres, plus ambitieux, se proposent d'embrasser toute la vie du mystique, ce qui lui est commun avec les autres musulmans et ce qui lui est particulier. Nous trouvons ainsi, dans ces ouvrages, une discussion détaillée des devoirs religieux dans les mêmes termes que dans les ouvrages de jurisprudence classiques, mais avec un effort d'intériorisation plus grand ; un exposé de différentes vertus, présentées comme des états ou des stations mystiques ; enfin, une présentation des pratiques particulières aux soufis tels le dhikr ou le sama’. Une troisième classe d'écrits soufis est constituée par des recueils de sentences des grands maîtres, accompagnées ou non de données biographiques. Certains de ces ouvrages ont pour objet la vie et les paroles d'un seul mystique ; d'autres embrassent toute l'histoire du soufisme, à commencer par les quatre premiers califes et les autres compagnons du Prophète.

Les deux siècles qui suivent la mort de Hallaj voient l'apparition des plus anciens manuels soufis qui nous soient parvenus. C'est une époque d'intense activité intellectuelle où, arrivé à sa maturité, le soufisme dresse l'inventaire de son acquis et essaie de définir sa place. Mentionnons, en premier lieu, le Kitâb al-luma’ d'Abû Nasr al-Sarrak de Tûs, une source de premier ordre pour la connaissance du soufisme originel. Plus lu, et ayant exercé une in-fluence beaucoup plus durable, est le Qût al-qulûb d'Abu Tâlib al-Makkî. L'auteur appartenait à l'école théologique des Salîmîya, dont il rapporte les thèses ; sur certains points, il suit Ahmad ibn Hanbal pour lequel il éprouvait une grande estime. Traitant de tous les points de la pratique religieuse, l'écrit constitue en quelque sorte le modèle de l' Ihya ‘ulûm al-dîn de Ghazali, qui l'admirait. Les mystiques postérieurs le liront beaucoup, et pour d'aucuns, comme pour ‘Alâ' al-Dawla Simnânî, le livre de Makkî servira d'initiation dans le soufisme.

L'ouvrage d'Abû Bakr al-Kalâbâdî, Kitâb al-ta`arruf li-madhhab ahl al-lasawwuf, également du IVe siècle, a un caractère différent. D'inspiration hanafite, le livre traite brièvement de différents points de la doctrine islamique, de pratiques soufies et de leurs usages. Presque aussitôt, l'écrit fut objet d'un commentaire, écrit en persan par Abu Ibrahim Mustamlî Bûkhârî, qui est une véritable somme de renseignements sur l'ancien soufisme, malheureusements presque inexplorée.

Parmi les écrits du V^e siècle de l'hégire, il faut mentionner deux recueils des logias des soufis, les Tabaqât al-sû fîya d'Abu ‘Abdurrahman al-Sulamî et la Ilyat al-awliyâ d'Abû Nu ‘aim al-Isfahânî. Le dernier est sans doute le plus important, vu la masse de renseignements qu'il transmet, non seulement des paroles isolées des maîtres du passé, mais aussi des éléments de leur biographie, voire des passages étendus de leurs écrits.

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Les Tabaqât de Sulamî sont de dimensions et de propos plus modestes que la Hilya. De chaque mystique dont il est question, on trouve une vingtaine de dits, avec la chaîne de leurs transmetteurs.

Des notices biographiques se trouvent également dans deux autres manuels du soufisme du V^e siècle. Le premier en est le Kasf al-mahûb de Hugwiri, le plus ancien manuel soufi en persan. Originaire de Ghazna en Afghanistan, son auteur est mort à Lahore où il avait été emmené en captivité : à son époque, l'islam a déjà pris pied dans le bassin de l'Indus et la langue persane devenait la langue religieuse des musulmans du sous-continent. La caractéristique principale de l'ouvrage semble être la description systématique de plusieurs sectes ou écoles de soufis qui existaient du temps de Hugwiri et qui se distinguaient par des doctrines et des pratiques propres. Mais il y a là, de toute évidence, un excès de systématisation ; les doctrines spécifiques attribuées aux différentes écoles sont souvent simplement des points de doctrine auxquels leurs maîtres avaient prêté une attention particulière. D'autres fois, cependant, il s'agit de différences réelles d'attitude spirituelle : aunaid et ses adhérents apprécient davantage la sobriété (sahw), Bâyazîd Bistamî l'ivresse (sukr). Il serait intéressant d'étudier si et comment ces différentes attitudes se sont perpétuées dans les congrégations de date plus récente.

L'autre ouvrage qui nous intéresse ici est le Traité d'Abû'l-Qâsim al-Qusairî. Théologien ach ‘arite et jurisconsulte, Qusairî représente un soufisme modéré et orthodoxe, accentuant plutôt son côté ascétique que son côté gnostique, préoccupé avant tout de la réforme des moeurs. Le biographe du grand soufi persan, Abd Sa ‘id b. Abi l-Khair, son contemporain, nous le montre réticent envers certaines pratiques soufies telles que le samâ ’. Il met en garde contre la surestimation de l'importance des visions. Il est pourtant le premier qui donne une description approfondie du dhikr et des expériences suprasensibles qui l'accompagnent.

Disciple de Sulamî, Qusairî est ach'arite. De son temps, cette école théologique s'impose de plus en plus, notamment parmi les chaféites qui constituent alors la majorité de la population de la Perse. Les sultans seldjoukides, originaires de la Transoxiane, sont hanafites. Leur vizir, Nizâm al-Mulk, un Persan, est chaféite ; les écoles qu'il fonde sont chaféites en droit, ach’arites en théologie. Et chaféite et ach'arite sera le maître le plus célèbre qui y ait enseigné, la « Preuve de l'Islam », Abû Hamîd Muhammad al-Ghazâlî.

Originaire de Tûs, comme Qusairî, Ghazâlî connaissait non seulement la théologie et le droit, mais aussi la philosophie et la mystique. Il resta pourtant avant tout un faqîh soucieux de défendre l'intégrité du credo sunnite, même si, après une crise spirituelle, il abandonna son enseignement à la Nizâmîya de Bagdad pour vivre dans une retraite d'une dizaine d'années. C'est à ce moment-là qu'il se serait tourné vers le soufisme.

Son oeuvre est riche et variée. Elle se situe au confluent des principaux courants intellectuels de l'époque, la théologie scolastique (ou kalâm), la philosophie néo-platonisante de Farâbî et d'Avicenne,

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le soufisme, mais surtout la théosophie ismaélienne qui, avec Hasan Sabbâh et la fondation de l'État nizârî d'Alamût, posait un problème actuel et terriblement menaçant. C'est cette menace qui détermine l'orientation de l'oeuvre de Ghazâlî. Il s'oppose ouvertement au batinisme des ismaéliens ; il combat également les philosophes, auxquels il reproche notamment leur thèse sur l'éternité du monde ; il comprend pourtant que la dialectique des théologiens scholastiques est incapable de s'opposer efficacement à la propagande ismaélienne auprès de ceux pour qui l'essentiel de la religion ne réside pas dans la forme apparente des rites et des obligations religieuses, mais dans leur sens ésotérique, leur bâtin, que seul est capable de dévoiler — infailliblement — l'imam de la Maison du Prophète, en l'occurrence le calife fatimide d'Égypte. En empruntant aux ismaéliens leur méthode, Ghazâlî explique le sens caché des rites, leurs mystères. Seulement, ce faisant, il n'invoque pas l'autorité de l'imam fatimide ; son guide à lui, le critère de l'infaillibilité des thèses défendues, est le Prophète, et le credo qu'il défend est le credo sunnite tel qu'il a été formulé dans l'école ach’arite. L'expérience mystique, la voie des soufis, permet d'obtenir ici la certitude. La doctrine de Ghazâlî est ici parallèle à la politique de Nizâm al-Mulk. Finalement, pour exposer ses vues, le maître adopte la terminologie, parfois les théories et les idées, des philosophes néo-platonisants qu'il combat : telle la distinction entre les mondes du mulk, de la malakût et de la gabarût, et leurs correspondants sur le plan psychologique.

Le principal ouvrage de Ghazâlî est, on le sait, l'Ihlyâ ‘ulûm al-dîn. Conçu sur le modèle des ouvrages de jurisprudence, l'écrit embrasse la totalité des sciences religieuses éclairées d'un point de vue qui s'approche de celui des soufis. Sans être à proprement parler un écrit soufi, l'ouvrage devait exercer sur les mystiques une influence durable et profonde. Une autre partie de l'oeuvre de Ghazâlî est plus nettement orientée dans le sens soufi. Citons, en premier lieu, la Miskât al-anwâr, un de ses derniers ouvrages, qui développe une métaphysique de la lumière et expose en termes clairs une doctrine de la wahdat al-wujûd, comparable à celle qui s'épanouira plus tard dans les écrits d' Ibn ‘Arabi et de son école. Après avoir analysé le phénomène de la lumière matérielle et de la lumière spirituelle, Ghazâlî constate que toutes les sources de lumière connues doivent leur lumière, directement ou indirectement, au soleil, qui est la seule véritable source de lumière ; on ne devrait même pas appeler « lumière » autre chose que celle de sa source ultime. Les choses sont comparables en ce qui concerne la lumière spirituelle, dont la source est Dieu.

Ayant compris que la lumière se rapporte à la manifestation et à la révélation, ainsi qu'à leurs degrés, sache maintenant qu'il n'y a pas de ténèbres pires que celles du néant, car elles obscurcissent, et ceci parce qu'une chose n'apparaît pas aux yeux si elle ne devient pas existante (mawgûdan) pour la vue, même si elle existe pour elle-même ; une chose qui n'existerait ni pour autrui ni pour elle-même, comment ne serait-elle pas la pire des ténèbres ? Au contraire, l'existence (wujûd) est la lumière ; et, de même qu'une chose qui n'apparaît pas en elle-même, n'apparaît pas à autrui, l'existence en elle-même est également de deux catégories : celle dont l'existence vient de sa propre essence

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et celle dont l'existence vient d'autrui. Celle dont l'existence vient d'autrui, son existence est empruntée et ne subsiste pas par elle-même ; et même, si tu considères son essence en tant que telle, elle est pur néant, tandis que son existence vient de sa relation avec autrui. Ce n'est pas une existence réelle, ainsi que tu as pu l'apprendre de la parabole des vêtements et des richesses empruntés. L'Existant vrai est Dieu Très-Haut, de même que la Lumière vraie est Dieu Très-Haut, la Réalité des Réalités. De là, les gnostiques avancent et accomplissent leur ascension depuis les abîmes de la métaphore jusqu'au sommet de la réalité : par la contemplation révélatrice, ils voient que rien n'est dans l'existence sauf Dieu, et que « toute chose périra sauf Sa Face » ; car tout ce qui est destiné à périr à un moment quelconque, a déjà péri dans la prééternité et la postéternité ; et ceci ne peut être imaginé autrement. Mais, si toute chose autre que Lui est pur néant tant que l'on considère son essence en tant que telle, mais apparaît comme existante, si l'on considère l'aspect par lequel l'existence lui est conférée à partir du Premier Réel, non dans son essence, mais par l'aspect par lequel elle est tournée vers son Existenciateur, alors tout existant est un aspect de Dieu. Toute chose a deux aspects : un aspect par rapport à elle-même, et un aspect par rapport à son Seigneur. Par rapport à elle-même, elle est néant, et par rapport à Dieu, elle est existence. Mais si rien n'existe sauf Dieu et Sa face, et si « toute chose périt sauf Sa Face », prééternellement et postéternellement, ils (les gnostiques) n'ont pas besoin de l'avènement de la résurrection pour entendre la voix du Créateur disant : « A qui est le royaume aujourd'hui ? A Dieu l'Unique, le Tout-Puissant » ; mais cette voix reste constamment présente dans leurs oreilles. Et ils ne comprennent pas Ses paroles, « Dieu est plus grand », comme signifiant qu'Il est plus grand qu'autre chose. Dieu a bien besoin qu'on dise qu'Il est plus grand qu'autre chose, si rien d'autre n'existe que Lui ! ... D'autre part, c'est un non-sens que de dire qu'Il est plus grand que son aspect. La locution veut dire qu'Il est plus grand, qu'on L'appelle plus grand dans le sens d'une comparaison ou d'une relation, plus grand aussi que le sommet de Sa grandeur tel que se l'imagine un autre que Lui, prophète ou ange...

Après s'être élevés au ciel de la Réalité, les gnostiques sont d'accord qu'ils ne voient dans l'existence qu'Une seule Réalité ; cependant, pour certains d'entre eux, cet état est savoir et gnose, tandis que pour d'autres il est expérience. La pluralité disparaît pour eux entièrement et ils sont noyés dans la pure Singularité. Leurs intellects sont ensorcellés et c'est comme s'ils en perdaient la parole. Il ne reste plus en eux de place pour le souvenir d'autre chose que de Lui, ni pour la pensée d'eux-mêmes ; il ne reste plus en eux que Dieu. Ils s'enivrent d'une ivresse qui échappe à la puissance de leurs intellects. L'un d'eux dit alors : « Je suis la Vérité » ; tel autre : « Gloire à moi, que mon rang est élevé ! » ; tel autre : « Il n'y a rien d'autre sous mon manteau que Dieu. » Mais les paroles d'amants en état d'ivresse restent secrètes et ne sont pas imitées. Lorsque l'ivresse les a abandonnés, et qu'ils ont recouvert l'usage de leur raison qui est la balance de Dieu sur Sa terre, ils savent que ce n'était pas l'union véritable, mais quelque chose qui ressemblait à l'union, et que leurs paroles étaient comparables à celles d'un amoureux quand l'amour l'emporte :

Je suis celui que j'aime et celui que j'aime est moi

Nous sommes deux esprits et habitons un seul corps.

C'est à peu près comme lorsqu'un homme bute sur un miroir et y regarde dedans, sans savoir que c'est un miroir. Il croit que la forme qu'il voit dans le miroir est le miroir lui-même ; ou comme lorsqu'un homme voit une coupe remplie de vin et croit que la couleur du vin est celle de la coupe. Lorsqu'il s'habitue à cette illusion, il s'y perd au point de dire :

Transparente est la coupe et clair est le vin,

Ils se ressemblent et ont la même forme,

C'est comme s'il y avait le vin et pas de verre,

Ou comme s'il y avait le verre et pas de vin.

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Or, ce sont deux choses différentes si l'on dit : « Le vin est la coupe », ou si l'on dit : « Comme s'il était la coupe. » L'état en question est appelé, par rapport à celui qui le subit, « annihilation », voire « annihilation de l'annihilation », car il est annihilé de lui-même et il est annihilé de l'annihilation. Dans cet état, il ne se sent pas lui-même, ni ne sent qu'il ne se sent pas lui-même ; car s'il sentait qu'il ne se sent pas lui-même, il se sentirait lui-même. Par rapport à celui qui le subit, cet état est appelé en langage métaphorique « union » (ittihâd), et dans le langage de la réalité « affirmation de l'unité » (tawhîd). Derrière ces réalités, il y a des mystères sur lesquels il n'est pas permis de s'étendre. (Miskât al-anwâr, Le Caire, 1322, 17 ss.)

L'avant-dernière phrase fournit la clef du passage. La discussion se déroule en réalité sur deux plans distincts, celui de la réalité et celui de la métaphore. Sur le premier, Dieu est seul à exister, parce qu'Il est la seule réalité qui ne change ni ne passe, la seule qui existe d'elle-même éternellement. Tout ce qui a un commencement dans le temps, aura également une fin ; tout ce qui change, périra ; tout ce qui est créé n'a pas d'existence par lui-même, son existence, qui vient de Dieu, est métaphorique ; et l' « existence », wujûd, c'est notamment la possibilité d'être perçu par quelqu'un. Le début du passage que nous venons de citer l'affirme clairement ; surtout si nous tenons compte du fait que mawjûd li-nafsihi et mawjûd li-jairi-hi, resp. « existant pour soi-même » et « pour autrui » signifient « se trouvant pour » ou « trouvé par » : les choses existent en tant que trouvées, perçues par Dieu : seule leur face tournée vers Dieu est réelle, le reste est pur néant. Ce qui ne veut pas dire que tout est Dieu, ni que, métaphoriquement, une sorte d'existence ne puisse être attribuée aux créatures. Dans l'expérience des mystiques, ceux-ci pensent s'être unis à Dieu, ce qui n'est qu'illusion ; en vérité, ils reconnaissent alors que seul Dieu existe, et c'est cela le véritable tawhîd. Car, selon Junaid, « le tawhîd c'est la séparation de l'éternel et du contingent ».²⁶

Une autre thèse de la Miskât accentue le caractère sunnite de la doctrine: la prééminence conférée au prophète Muhammad. Tous les prophètes et tous les oulémas doivent leur lumière à la sienne, car il est la lampe brillante qui éclaire les créatures et leur transmet l'influx divin. Cette thèse est directement opposée aux doctrines ismaéliennes où la Raison universelle et l'Ame universelle sont représentées par le Prophète et l'Imam et où, en pratique, notamment chez les ismaéliens d'Alamût, le second tend à l'emporter sur le premier.

L'époque de Ghazâlî voit des mystiques éminents. Son propre frère Ahmad est soufi au sens propre du terme. Théoricien du samâ ’ — mais son frère l'est aussi — il chante l'amour divin en de court aphorismes passionnés. La postérité se souviendra de lui surtout comme d'un grand amoureux et racontera des anecdotes sur ses amours avec de jeunes garçons — ce que ses propres écrits sont loin de confirmer. A côté de lui, il faut signaler son jeune élève, ‘Ain Al-Qudhât Hamadânî, mort à la suite d'intrigues obscures, et qui a laissé une oeuvre considérable, entre autres un recueil de lettres sur des sujets mystiques.

Un peu plus tard, nous trouvons, à Bagdad, ‘Abd al-Qadir Jilânî, fondateur du plus ancien ordre

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des derviches, qui sut concilier la ferveur mystique avec la doctrine hanbalite la plus stricte.

La métaphysique de la lumière fut développée, dans la deuxième moitié du VI^e siècle de l'hégire, par Sihab al-Dîn Yahyâ Suhrawardi, le saikh al-isrâq. Proposant une philosophie illuminative, il l'opposa, en tant que philosophie orientale, à l'aristotélisme d'Avicenne. Se réclamant à la fois des sages de la Grèce, Platon compris, et des anciens prophètes iraniens, Suhrawardi développe une interprétation angélologique des idées platoniciennes et intègre, dans le cadre des hiérarchies angéliques, certains éléments empruntés à la religion de l'ancien Iran. L'année de sa mort, 587 de l'hégire, tombe déjà à l'intérieur d'une nouvelle époque d'or du soufisme. Un autre Suhrawardi — Sihâb al-Dîn ‘Umar — déploie une activité intense à Bagdad. Théoricien du soufisme modéré, strictement conforme aux règles de la Loi islamique, il formule ses thèses dans le manuel, resté classique, ‘Awârif al-ma’ ‘ârif. Lié au dernier calife abbaside de Bagdad qui ait joué un rôle politique important, al-Nâsir li-dîn-allâh, il participa à la réorganisation, entreprise par celui-ci, des associations de la futuwwa, ce pacte d'honneur des corporations artisanales dont al-Nâsir voulut faire le fondement de l'unité des pays islamiques, pacte qui s'imprègne d'esprit soufi et qui, à son tour, influence les congrégations des mystiques. Sur un autre plan, ‘Umar Suhrawardi continue les traditions de l'école de Bagdad ; c'est ainsi que, contrairement à Sulamî, il place les soufis plus haut que les malâmatî. Finalement, c'est de lui et de son oncle Nagîb al-Dîn que se réclame l'ordre des Suhrawardîya, encore aujourd'hui très répandu, notamment aux Indes. Une de ses branches, les Khalwatîya, se répandra plus tard dans les états ottomans ; une autre, les Safawîya, finira par adopter le chiisme et fondera un Etat chiite en Iran au Xe siècle de l'hégire.

C'est également aux Suhrawardîya que se rattache le grand mystique de Chiraz, Rûzbihân Baqlî, auteur de plusieurs ouvrages sur l'amour divin et l'amour profane, dont l'étude permet de comprendre l'oeuvre du plus grand poète lyrique de la Perse, Hâfiz.

Puisque nous sommes en Iran, mentionnons un autre mystique iranien célèbre de cette époque, Nagm al-Dîn Kubrâ. Originaire de Khiva, dans le Khwârizm, au sud de la mer d'Aral, Kubrâ voyagea beaucoup à travers le monde islamique. Il étudia tout d'abord le droit chaféite, puis se tourna vers le soufisme. Il forma de nombreux élèves (Magd al-Dîn Bagdâdî, Magd al-Dîn Dâya Râzî, Sa’d al-Dîn Hamû'î, ‘Aziz Nasafî...), noyau de la congrégation des Kubrawîya qui s'épanouira aux siècles suivants et dont les restes subsistent encore. Il laissa également une oeuvre écrite importante. Pour la première fois, semble-t-il, dans l'histoire du soufisme, il analyse la perception des phénomènes suprasensibles de la khalwa pratiquée par les soufis, la vision des lumières de couleurs différentes, des apparitions, etc. Cette analyse sera toujours pratiquée dans son école ; ‘Alâ'al-Dawla Simnânî, un siècle après Kubrâ, en fera un système où les différentes couleurs seront mises en rapport non seulement avec les sens intérieurs, de plus en plus profonds de l'homme, mais

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aussi, symboliquement, avec les sept prophètes législateurs. Aujourd'hui encore, chez les Dhahabîya de Chiraz, l'intérêt pour l'expérience visionnaire paraît plus grand que chez les adhérents des autres ordres des derviches.

Le maître dont la personnalité dominera désormais le soufisme et qui a donné la formulation classique à la doctrine de la wahdat al-wujûd, Muhyî al-Dîn Ibn al-’Arabi, était un contemporain de Kubrâ. Descendant de la tribu arabe des Tayy, Ibn ‘Arabi naquit à Murcie, en Espagne, en 560 de l'hégire et passa la première moitié de son existence en Andalousie et dans le Maghreb. C'est là qu'il conçut sa doctrine, et les écrits qu'il produisit a cette époque la montrent déjà formée. Il est possible qu'il ait subi l'influence de l'école d'Ibn Masarra que les sources désignent comme un bâtinî, mais dont les idées sont mal connues. En tout cas, Ibn ‘Arabi n'est pas ismaélien. En attribuant au prophète Muhammad — ou plutôt à la Réalité muhammedienne, al-haqîqa al-muhammadîya — le rôle du Logos, il s'oppose, comme Ghazâlî, aux spéculations sur l'imam infaillible et impeccable. En droit, il adopte le rite zâhirite, le plus littéraliste qui soit. Maintes pages de ses écrits sont consacrées à la discussion de problèmes de casuistique juridique et il souligne, contrairement aux ismaéliens d'Alamût qui sont en train de proclamer la « Grande Résurrection », que le zâhir et le bâtin, l'ésotérique et l'exotérique, doivent être observés simultanément.

A 38 ans, Ibn ‘Arabi quitte définitivement le Maghreb et commence son voyage en Orient, voyage qui le mènera jusqu'à La Mecque, à Konya — à cette époque capitale du sultanat seldjoukide de Rûm et centre culturel important — et à Damas, où il mourra en 638 de l'hégire. Son tombeau s'y trouve toujours, dans un faubourg du nord de la ville, sur les pentes du Qassioun, objet de pèlerinages et lieu de rassemblement des derviches. C'est en Orient que voient le jour ses principaux ouvrages, l'énorme al-Futûhât al-makkîya (Les révélations mecquoises), les Fusûs al-hikam, exposé systématique de sa cosmologie et de sa prophétologie, le Targuman al-aswâq, recueil de poèmes abstrus qui ne sont compréhensibles que grâce au commentaire dont l'auteur les a accompagnés ; d'autres encore, dont la liste comprend plusieurs centaines de titres.

Les Fusûs al-hikam sont l'ouvrage d'Ibn ‘Arabi qui a été le plus lu, le plus commenté, le plus attaqué aussi. Parmi ses commentaires, les plus connus sont ceux de Kamâl al-Dîn ‘Abd al-Razzâq Kâsânî, de Dâwûd Qaisari, de Bali Efendi, de ‘Abd al-Gani al-Nablûsî, en arabe ; de ‘Alî Hamadânî, en persan ; de Jâmî, en arabe et en persan. Même des adversaires, comme ‘Alâ' al-Dawla Simnânî s'y sont essayés, en donnant au moins un commentaire partiel des passages moins compromettants.

L'écrit est divisé en 27 chapitres dont chacun traite d'un « verbe » prophétique ; chaque prophète correspond ici à un Nom de Dieu par lequel celui-ci se manifeste et agit. Le choix de ces Noms est dicté par certains détails ou certaines allusions des récits coraniques relatifs à ces prophètes. Le propos de l'auteur n'a rien d'historique, les prophètes dont il parle ne sont que des archétypes dont chacun représente un aspect de la manifestation de Dieu. Chaque

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chapitre décrit ainsi un aspect divin dans la mesure où il se reflète dans le monde. Les verbes prophétiques se retrouvent tous dans le verbe mohammédien, al-haqîqa al-muhammadîya, qui est le moyen par lequel Dieu agit dans le monde. Tous les prophètes en sont la manifestation ; la manifestation la plus parfaite est le prophète Muhammad, qui en est le Sceau. Les awliyâ y ont part également, ils ont également un Sceau sur la réalité duquel Ibn ‘Arabi ne se prononce pas d'une façon non équivoque, se bornant à distinguer entre le Sceau de la walâya muhammadienne et celui de la walâya absolue.

Les êtres autres que Dieu n'ont d'existence que relative, n'existent que par Dieu. Ils sont des manifestations des Noms divins ; chaque créature même les anges en représente un, seul l'homme les manifeste tous : « Dieu créa l'homme à son image. » Telle est la signification du récit coranique où Dieu ordonna aux anges de se prosterner devant Adam, parce que ce dernier savait ce qu'ils ne savaient pas.

L'Homme Parfait est la manifestation parfaite de Dieu qui se regarde en lui comme dans un miroir. Il est la cause efficiente de la création, car, selon un hadith qudsi, Dieu dit : « J'étais un trésor caché et j'ai voulu être connu ; c'est pourquoi j'ai créé le monde pour être connu en lui. » En conséquence, le monde existe aussi longtemps que l'Homme Parfait est en lui.

La création s'opère ab aeterno, selon un processus émanationniste compliqué ; le mystique remonte les mêmes degrés et retrouve son Seigneur, le Nom divin avec lequel il est en rapport particulier ; comme l'homme est une image de Dieu, il se saisit

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comme tel au bout de l'expérience mystique et connaît ainsi Dieu : « Celui qui se connaît lui-même connaît son Seigneur » — et le connaît conformément au degré qui lui est propre.

La créature est la manifestation de Dieu, Dieu est l'essence de la créature, l'absolu dont elle dérive. Il ne faudrait pas voir ici du panthéisme, car, dans leur existence actuelle, les créatures ne sont pas identiques à Dieu, mais seulement le reflet de ses attributs.

La thèse que tout ce qui existe reflète les attributs de Dieu a une autre conséquence : elle fournit une base théorique à l'un des traits les plus attrayants du soufisme, sa tolérance pour les autres religions. Déjà, dans un fragment célèbre, Hallâg disait qu'il ne fallait pas faire de distinction entre les religions, que leur diversité masquait l'unité de leur origine et de leur but. Ibn ‘Arabi dit de même que, puisque toutes les créatures sont des manifestations de Dieu, les hommes ne peuvent adorer que Lui, quoi qu'ils adorent. Deux siècles plus tard, ‘Abd al-Karim Jîlî tâchera même de définir à quel aspect de la Divinité se réfèrent les religions qu'il connaît, voire celles des matérialistes et les athées. Sur le terrain pratique, l'attitude des mystiques envers les minorités religieuses, l'aide fraternelle qu'ils leur ont parfois apportée en des moments difficiles, contrastera souvent avec l'intransigeance des oulémas.

Il ne faut pas ici parler d'indifférence religieuse, ni de tendances syncrétistes. Le schéma de Jîlî est un schéma hiérarchique, les différentes religions se trouvant rattachées à des aspects de plus en plus profonds de la Divinité, et la même remarque vaut

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pour Ibn ‘Arabi. Un Simnânî n'hésite pas a faire appel à un moine bouddhiste pour lui demander de l'aider à former un de ses disciples ; il considère pourtant que les expériences les plus élevées sont réservées aux musulmans et que nul ne peut y avoir accès sans embrasser l'islam.

Ces différentes thèses doivent être replacées dans un contexte plus large, celui de la révélation religieuse telle que la conçoivent le Coran et la tradition islamique. Le point de départ est la représentation coranique des ahl al-kitâb, chrétiens, juifs, Sabéens, mages, dont les religions contiennent chacune une part de la vérité, mais qui ont eu le tort de croire que leur prophète était le dernier, et de déformer son message. Les théologiens et les hérésiographes élargissent le champ de vision et rattachent toutes les autres religions qu'ils connaissent à un prophète connu : Adam, Noé, Abraham, etc. Pour s'exprimer d'une façon originale, la tolérance soufie n'a pas d'autre signification : chaque religion contient une part de vérité, ce qui ne veut pas dire que toutes les religions se valent.

Conçue dans le Maghreb almohade d'où les dernières traces d'influence fatimide venaient d'être extirpées, développée dans la Syrie ayyoubide où le danger ismaélien était toujours présent et où une partie de la côte était encore aux mains des Croisés, la théosophie d'Ibn `Arabi servait la cause sunnite. Elle pouvait cependant prêter à des malentendus, A certains esprits, la théorie de la wahdat al-wujûd, telle qu'elle se reflétait dans les thèses du mystique andalou, paraissait contredire la transcendance divine ; la tolérance soufie pouvait passer pour de l'indifférentisme religieux ; le caractère ésotérique de la doctrine évoquait enfin des associations fâcheuses avec l'ésotérisme ismaélien ; l'emploi, de part et d'autre, d'un vocabulaire philosophique d'origine hellénistique accentuait ce rapprochement et rendait le tout encore plus suspect. Mais, quoi qu'il en fût, Ibn ‘Arabi n'eut jamais à souffrir de persécution de son vivant. Les attaques, violentes, viendront plus tard.

Ses adversaires se recrutent dans des milieux fort différents. On comprend fort aisément la violence d'un Ibn Taimîya, hanbalite vivant dans la Syrie mamelouke : les croisés venaient d'être entièrement éliminés, les ismaéliens soumis. Mais les Mongols, hier encore païens, menaçaient toujours, et des oulémas chiites vivaient sous leur protection, tandis que, dans les États mamelouks eux-mêmes, la puissance économique des Coptes chrétiens était encore considérable. Ces circonstances ne prédisposaient guère à la tolérance. Ibn Taimîya condamnera Ibn ‘Arabi comme infidèle et proclamera sa doctrine contraire à l'islam. Plus intéressant, plus important peut-être est le fait que des mystiques s'élèveront également contre les thèses du maître andalou et combattront son influence. Un des plus notables est ‘Alâ' al-Dawla Simnânî, contemporain d'Ibn Taimîya.

Originaire d'une famille de notables de Simnân, dans le Nord de la Perse, Simnânî entre à 15 ans au service du souverain mongol de la Perse, Argun, un bouddhiste. A sa cour, il côtoie des adhérents de diverses religions, des moines bouddhistes, des juifs, sans doute aussi des chrétiens. Argun est en guerre contre le premier des Mongols qui ait embrassé

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l'islam, Ahmad Takudar. Lors de la bataille décisive, Simnânî a une crise ; il abandonne le service du roi, se retire dans sa ville natale et, après avoir beaucoup réfléchi, opte pour l'orthodoxie sunnite et s'attache au soufisme. Il devient disciple d'un kubrawî, Nûr al-Dîn ‘Abd al-Rahman Isfarâ'înî ; devenu maître à son tour, il fonde le cloître de Sûfiâbâd qui sera le centre de l'ordre pendant un bon siècle.

La doctrine de Simnânî intègre des éléments de provenances diverses : la psychologie des visions de Kubrâ, la théorie des sens intérieurs de son maître Isfarâ'înî, ses entretiens avec les adhérents des autres religions, son opposition au chiisme confessionnel. Sur ce dernier plan, il intègre des éléments chiites dans sa conception du soufisme, concevant ce dernier comme une sorte de chiisme sunnite. Il est également opposé aux idées d'Ibn ‘Arabi. Le témoignage le plus net de son opposition est fourni par sa correspondance avec ‘Abd al-Razzâq Kâsânî, le célèbre commentateur des Fusûs al-hikam.

A une lettre que Kâsânî lui avait adressée et dans laquelle il défendait les idées d'Ibn ‘Arabi avec des arguments puisés dans le Coran et dans la tradition, Simnânî répond que la première chose qui compte est l'observation scrupuleuse de la Loi ; si celle-ci fait défaut, on est exposé aux pires dangers. Tant qu'il était au service de son maître, il n'a jamais entendu parler des Fusûs ; plus tard, il trouva par hasard ce livre qui commença par lui inspirer de l'enthousiasme. Il se rendit pourtant bientôt compte de son caractère néfaste et mensonger. Pour quelques versets douteux, on écarte le témoignage de versets bien plus nombreux qui disent exactement le contraire, en affirmant l'altérité absolue de Dieu et des créatures, et sa transcendance. Ce qui est plus important encore, l'expérience mystique montre que l'état d'union est passager, illusoire, et que c'est après l'ivresse de l'extase que la vérité se révèle au mystique : l'état suprême de l'expérience mystique n'est pas le tawhîd, mais bien la ‘ubûdîya, « le servage »²⁷.

Une nouvelle théorie de l'expérience mystique commence ainsi à se dessiner. Malgré les apparences, elle n'est pas identique à la théorie de la sobriété de Junaid. Cette dernière laissait intact le problème ontologique, l'existence du mystique, pendant l'extase et hors de l'extase, était de la même nature que celle des hommes au temps du Covenant primordial : son wujûd était celui de Dieu. Mais chez Simnânî, dont la théorie est expressément dirigée contre Ibn ‘Arabi, wujûd est compris comme « existence » ; l'altérité de Dieu et de la créature se trouve ainsi soulignée avec beaucoup plus de force.

Dans l'immédiat, les vues de Simnânî ne semblent pas avoir rencontré beaucoup de succès. Lui-même, d'ailleurs, n'était pas exempt de l'influence d'Ibn ‘Arabi : n'avait-il pas commenté au moins en partie, les Fusûs (ce commentaire n'a pas encore été étudié) et écrit des gloses sur les Futûhât ? En tout cas, ses successeurs dans l'ordre dont il fait partie furent plutôt accueillants aux doctrines d'Ibn ‘Arabi, alors qu'ailleurs une réticence plus grande se manifesta. Dans l'Occident musulman la confrérie des Sâdhilîya, en Orient celle des Naqsbandîya feindront de l'ignorer : Il faudra attendre trois siècles pour qu'un mystique influent reprenne ses idées et leur donne une forme définitive : Ahmad Fârûqî Sarhindi, le « Rénovateur

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du second millénaire », qui réagira contre la tentative du syncrétisme religieux de l'empereur Akbar.

Né en 971, mort en 1023 de l'hégire, Sarhindi fut initié, dès son enfance, à plusieurs congrégations soufies : la çistîya, la suhrawardîya, la kubrawîya, la qadirîya et la sattârîya. L'événement décisif de sa vie fut pourtant sa rencontre avec le Khwâga Bâqî bi-'llah qui, disciple de maîtres naqsbandi de la Transoxiane, introduisit cette « voie » dans l'Inde. Initié au naqsbandisme, Sarhindi donne à cette tarîqa la préférence sur les autres. Cela est de toute première importance ; car, chez les Nagsbandi, la métaphysique d'Ibn ‘Arabi n'a jamais pu s'acclimater et, déjà chez leurs représentants, les plus anciens, on trouve des affirmations allant dans le sens de leur refus. Défenseur de l'orthodoxie sunnite, Sarhindi adopta ce point de vue et développa sa doctrine de la wahdat al-suhûd, opposée à la wahdat al-wujûd de l'école d'Ibn ‘Arabi et ‘Abd al-Karim Jîlî.

Comme Simnânî, Sarhindi dit être arrivé à sa conception par expérience mystique. Il distingue deux sortes de tawhîd, suhûdî et wujûdî. Ce dernier est une perception intellectuelle de l'unité de l'être, ou plutôt de la non-existence de toute chose autre que Dieu ; c'est une théorie qui ne résulte pas directement ni n'est toujours accompagnée d'une expérience; elle se situe donc au niveau le moins élevé de la certitude telle que la conçoivent les soufis ; le ‘ilm al-yaqîn « savoir de la certitude ». Le tawhîd suhûdî , au contraire, exige une expérience : celle de l'union mystique où l'homme se voit identique à Dieu ; il se situe ainsi sur le plan du ‘ain al-yaqîn, « vue de la certitude ». Mais c'est un état passager qui n'implique aucunement l'unité ontologique de l'homme et de Dieu. En avançant dans la voie mystique, on acquiert la certitude qu'ils sont distincts et l'on parvient ainsi au degré suprême, le haqq al-yaqîn « réalité de la certitude ».

A cette interprétation de l'union mystique correspond une métaphysique originale qui exclut toute possibilité de la wahdat al-wujûd. Sans doute, Sarhindi est trop ancré dans la tradition pour ne pas admettre que Dieu seul est l'Être nécessaire, wâjib al-wujûd. Mais il interprète ce donné en termes nouveaux. Alors que les anciennes écoles affirmaient que le wujûd des créatures vient de Dieu et que, par conséquent, il est identique à celui de Dieu, notre cheikh dit que, tandis que les créatures existent par le wujûd de Dieu, celui-ci existe par sa propre essence (dhât), non par le wujûd d'un autre ; existant nécessairement, Il n'a pas besoin de wujûd. La valeur ancienne de wujûd « le fait d'être trouvé » donc « être perçu » est ici patente : pour exister, les créatures ont besoin d'être perçues par Dieu qui, existant de Soi-même, n'a pas besoin d'être perçu par qui que ce soit. Comparée à la théorie courante, cette analyse en diffère par des nuances ; mais elle permet beaucoup mieux de sauvegarder la transcendance et l'altérité absolues de Dieu.²⁸

Défenseur de l'orthodoxie sunnite — il combattit également le chiisme — Sarhindi resta connu à la postérité sous la désignation du Rénovateur du second millénaire, Mujaddid-i alf-i thâni. Ses lettres, réunies par ses disciples sous le titre des Maktûbat-i Imam-i Rabbâni, jouissent d'un immense prestige dans tout

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l'Orient islamique. L'original persan fut lithographié à plusieurs reprises aux Indes ; les versions turque et arabe ont été imprimées respectivement à Istanbul et au Caire. Il y a quelques années, un recueil de morceaux choisis publié en Turquie désignait l'ouvrage comme l'écrit religieux le plus important après le Coran et les hadith. Aux Indes même, son influence fut durable et contribua beaucoup au repli de la communauté islamique sur elle-même, depuis Awrangzeb, qui s'opposa par les armes à son frère Dârâ Sikôh, partisan d'un rapprochement avec l'hindouisme jusqu'aux fondateurs du Pakistan moderne. Sur le plan de la théorie soufie, des Naqsbandi indiens proposèrent différentes modifications ; la tentative la plus notable devait être celle du célèbre mystique Sâh Walîyullah de Delhi, un des précurseurs du réformisme islamique moderne, qui entendait concilier Ibn ‘Arabi et Sarhindi.

La place nous manque pour évoquer ici, ne serait-ce que brièvement, les principaux soufis ayant vécu entre l'époque d'Ibn ‘Arabi et celle de Sarhindi. Quelques noms suffiront.²⁹

Parmi les disciples directs d'Ibn ‘Arabi, mentionnons en premier lieu Sadr al-Dîn Qonyawi, son gendre, un des premiers commentateurs des Fusûs. Son enseignement inspira à son tour un des plus fameux poètes mystiques persans, Fakhr al-Din ‘Irâqî, chantre passionné de l'amour divin. A la même époque, la ville de Konya abrite d'autres mystiques de marque : Sa‘d al-Din Hamû'î, Nakm al-Dîn Dâya — ce dernier fuyant l'invasion mongole — et, surtout celui dont le nom demeurera associé pour jamais à la ville, Jalâl al-Dîn Muhammad Rûmi.

Fils d'un ouléma distingué, Bahâ' al-Dîn Walad, lui-même mystique, Rûmî naquit à Balkh, l'ancienne Bactres, dans le Nord de l'Afghanistan actuel. Son père quitta sa patrie pour mener une vie errante dans les différents pays de l'Orient islamique. Il finit par se fixer à Konya ; Jalâl al-Din avait alors 21 ans. Un groupe de mystiques se forma autour de Bahâ'al-Dîn. Nous ne sommes pas très bien renseignés sur les pratiques et les doctrines de ce groupe. Il n'aurait pas pratiqué le samâ’ ni la danse, mais certains indices permettent de penser que la thèse de la Beauté de Dieu se reflétant dans le monde y était déjà enseignée. Après la mort de Bahâ' al-Dîn, son disciple Burhân al-Dîn Tirmidhî prit la tête du groupe ; quelques années plus tard, Jalâl al-Dîn lui succéda. Au début, les pratiques et les doctrines restèrent les mêmes qu'au temps de son père, jusqu'au jour où apparut à Konya un personnage mystérieux, Sams al-Dîn Tabrizî. Derviche errant, d'origine inconnue, Sams-i Tabriz était un soufi « ivre » et représentait un autre type de soufisme que le savant Bahâ' al-Dîn Walad. Cette rencontre changea la vie de Jalâl al-Dîn. Saisi d'une passion violente pour Sams, Mawlânâ Jalál al-Dîn fut complètement subjugué. Il aurait adopté la forme d'extase mystique que celui-ci pratiquait ; enivré, il se serait mis à danser au moindre bruit rythmique. Ces récits des biographes appellent assurément une certaine réserve. Ce qui est sûr, c'est que désormais, le sama' devint le centre de la vie spirituelle de l'ordre ; c'est pour le sama' que furent composés les ghazals que son attachement passionné pour Sams inspira à Mawlânâ. Ces ghazals furent même publiés sous le nom du

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premier, sans que personne ait jamais douté de l'identité véritable de leur auteur : le disciple s'est identifié avec le maître : selon la doctrine constante des mystiques, le cheikh est pour le novice la voie qu'il doit emprunter pour parvenir à Dieu.

Certains, dans l'entourage de Rûmî, prirent ombrage de l'influence que Sams exerçait sur lui. Un beau jour, le derviche de Tabriz disparut ; on apprit qu'il s'était réfugié à Damas et Mawlânâ partit le chercher. Au bout d'un certain temps, Sams disparut une seconde fois, et pour de bon. On soupçonna un des fils de Jalâl al-Dîn de l'avoir fait assassiner, mais la vérité ne fut jamais établie.

Tandis que le divan des poèmes lyriques de Rûmî lui fut inspiré par Sams-i Tabriz, son autre oeuvre majeure, le Mathnawî, fut conçue sous l'influence de la passion que le maître éprouva plus tard pour un autre derviche, Husâm al-Dîn de Konya. La partie la plus connue du poème est son prologue, où le son du roseau éveille en l'homme la nostalgie de son origine et la passion d'amour qui révèle ses secrets. En six livres, des histoires se suivent dans un ordre qui n'obéit à aucun principe autre que celui d'association occasionnelle. Ces histoires ont une valeur symbolique évidente et leur ensemble constitue une somme du soufisme : on l'avait appelé « le Coran en persan ». Alors que les ghazals ont été composés pour être récités dans les séances du samâ ’, le Mathnawî se veut didactique : l'art du poète, qui est ici à son sommet, consiste à suggérer, en présentant des symboles, la réalité profonde des choses.

Mawlânâ Jalâl al-Dîn mourut en 672 de l'hégire ; son fils, Sultan Walad, lui succéda à la tête du groupe

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des soufis qui s'était formé autour de lui. Il lui donna la forme d'un ordre organisé, avec des coutumes bien définies. Des séances de samâ’, réglées selon un scénario immuable dans tous les détails, constituent la principale cérémonie en commun des Mevlevis, appelés « derviches tourneurs » par les voyageurs occidentaux. Jusqu'à la suppression des confréries par la République turque, leur centre se trouvait à Konya où, à côté du mausolée de Mawlânâ et de Sultan Walad, résidait le grand maître de l'ordre, le Celebi, qui était toujours un de leurs descendants. Des Mevlevis jouèrent un rôle important dans la vie politique, religieuse et culturelle de l'Empire ottoman.

L'oeuvre poétique de Rûmî constitue un des sommets de la poésie mystique persane. Dans le genre de l'épopée mystique, il avait eu comme prédécesseurs Sanâ’î, au VIe siècle de l'hégire, et, un peu plus tard, Farid ad-Dîn ‘Attâr. Le premier est l'auteur d'un poème intitulé Hadiqât al-haqâ'iq et de quelques autres moins importants ; au second, un nombre impressionnant d'oeuvres sont attribués par la tradition. Ces poèmes se divisent en trois groupes qui diffèrent par la forme et par le contenu. Le premier comprend des pièces sûrement authentiques, Matiq al-tair, Ilahi-nâma, Asrâr-nâma et Musibat-nama. Dans un récit-cadre, important surtout dans le premier, sont réunis de petits récits portant sur les différents problèmes du soufisme et de la vie mystique. Un deuxième groupe comprend des épopées mystiques telles que Ustur-nâma, Hailâj-nâma et Jawhar al-dhât, où Hallaj et son gibet deviennent le symbole de l'amour divin et de l'union mystique. L'authenticité de ces poèmes est douteuse, mais non pas exclue : les

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mêmes idées se retrouvent dans le divan lyrique, incontesté, et déjà Jalâl al-Dîn Rûmî, qui aurait rencontré ‘Attâr dans sa jeunesse, disait que l'esprit de Hallâj s'était incarné en lui. Le troisième groupe comprend quelques poèmes ultra-chiites dont l'attribution à ‘Attar est sûrement fausse. A côté de cette oeuvre poétique, ‘Attar a laissé des ouvrages en prose, au premier rang desquels il faut mentionner la Tadhkirat al-awliyâ, recueil de vies de saints qui a joui d'une immense popularité et a été traduit deux fois au moins en turc.

A partir de cette époque, peu nombreux sont les poètes persans qui n'ont pas reçu une empreinte soufie ; inversement, peu nombreux sont les mystiques de renom qui ne s'essayent pas à écrire en vers. Quiconque a tant soit peu fréquenté les milieux soufis, sait avec quelle facilité les derviches improvisent les poèmes pour toute circonstance, séance du dhikr ou célébration d'une fête. Et, en dehors même de ces séances organisées, ils aiment à se rencontrer pour lire des extraits du Coran, discuter des haqâ'iq et réciter des poésies mystiques.

Mentionnons ici, parmi les poètes soufis les plus notables, Qâsim al-Anwâr, au début du IX^e siècle de l'hégire ; son contemporain, Sah Ni'matullah Walî, dont se réclament la plupart des congrégations chiites; le « dernier classique persan », `Abd al-Rabman Jami, dans la seconde moitié du même siècle ; le génial poète indien Bedil au XIIe siècle, qui composa des odes non seulement en persan, mais aussi en plusieurs dialectes indiens ; enfin, un siècle à peu près plus tard Nûr ‘Alî Sâh qui, venu du Deccan, réimplanta le soufisme dans plusieurs régions de la Perse et, presque de nos jours, Safî ‘Ali Sâh qui composa même en vers un commentaire du Coran.

A côté de cette poésie persane, il ne faut pas oublier la poésie soufie de langue arabe où nous ne mentionnerons qu'un nom, celui de ‘Umar Ibn al-Farid, un Égyptien contemporain d'Ibn ‘Arabi dont les qasîda, de style difficile et volontairement obscur, ont été commentées d'un bout à l'autre du monde islamique.

Il existe une poésie soufie, peu connue en Occident, en sindhi, en panjabi, en ourdou, en bengali et en malais ; dans les langues iraniennes autres que le persan, le kurde, le gurani, le pachto. Mais soulignons surtout l'importance et la richesse de la littérature soufie en turc. Déjà au vie siècle de l'hégire, un des premiers mystiques turcs, Ahmad Yesewi, compose un recueil de courts poèmes en turc oriental, très apprécié à travers toute l'Asie centrale. En Anatolie, les plus anciens poètes d'expression turque sont déjà mystiques. Presque au début, quelques dizaines d'années après Mawlana Jalal al-Dîn, apparaît un génie, Yunus Emré, à qui se rattache une tradition populaire opposée à celle des Mevlevis de Konya, plus savante et plus fidèle à la langue persane ou, en tout cas, à la forme métrique arabo-persane.

Mentionnons encore quelques noms, dans l'une ou l'autre de ces traditions : au IX^e siècle de l'hégire, Nesîmî, écorché vif à Alep pour ses idées hurûfies ; un demi-siècle plus tard, Khatâ'î, c'est-à-dire Sah Isma’il Safavi, le fondateur de l'État chiite iranien, dont les poèmes, expression de ses sentiments chiites extrémistes, sont restés extrêmement populaires en Anatolie ; un demi-siècle plus tard encore, Pîr

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Sultân Abdâl, mis à mort à Sivas comme émissaire safavide, dont les poèmes expriment une immense nostalgie de justice et l'amour passionné de la Divinité qui lui apparaît sous le triple nom de Allah, de Muhammad et de ‘Alî ; au même moment, les deux poètes classiques, Fuzulî de Bagdad et Lami’î ; au XI^e siècle, le cheikh Khalwatî Niyâzî Misrî. Et, pour en venir à notre propre époque, nous ne pouvons ne pas mentionner Ismail Emré, « le nouveau Yunus Emré » qui, simple employé des chemins de fer, est connu pour ses improvisations mystiques.

Parmi les autres mystiques de l'époque qui s'étend de la mort d'Ibn ‘Arabi à l'activité de Sarhindi, un des plus notables est ‘Abd al-Karim Jîlî qui vécut au début du IX^e siècle de l'hégire, sans doute au Yémen. Sa vie est très peu connue. Il paraît avoir été un descendant de ‘Abd al-Qâdir Jîlânî et en tout cas appartenait à l'ordre des Qadiriya. Son principal ouvrage, Al-Nâmûs al-a’zam, n'a pas encore fait l'objet d'une étude critique et est très peu connu en Europe. Son livre le plus célèbre est Al-Insân al-kâmil où, après avoir esquissé une métaphysique apparentée à celle d'Ibn ‘Arabi, mais indépendante de la sienne, il développe la conception de l'Homme Parfait.

D'autres soufis sont plus connus comme organisateurs et missionnaires que comme théoriciens originaux.

Baha'al-Din Naqsband vécut au VIII^e siècle de l'hégire, à Bukhara. Partant de traditions anciennes, sans doute courantes dans certains milieux de la Transoxiane et remontant en dernière analyse aux malâmatîya du Khurasan, il devint le fondateur d'une congrégation dont le signe distinctif principal est le dhikr secret et dont les doctrines et les pratiques ne s'écartent de l'usage du commun des croyants que par un plus haut degré de spiritualisation. Dans les états ottomans, les Naqsbandîya furent relativement bien reçus par les milieux d'oulémas ; la résistance à la métaphysique d'Ibn ‘Arabi fut grande dans leurs rangs et, nous l'avons vu, c'est à leur tradition que se rattache Sarhindi.

‘Alî Hamadânî représente un soufisme assez différent. Initié à l'ordre kubrawî, il se fait de sa dignité et de son importance une opinion exagérée. Pour ses disciples, il devient ainsi « le second ‘Alî » et une manifestation de l'Homme Parfait. Descendant du Prophète, initié à la futuwwa qui, à cette époque, est fortement imprégnée d'idées chiites, il contribue à l'évolution de son ordre dans un sens chiite, voire à la naissance d'une secte plus ou moins autonome. Deux générations après lui, dans le premier quart du IXe siècle, le kubrawî Muhammad Nurbakhs se proclamera effectivement le Mahdi et l'imam attendu.

C'est encore entre l'Iran et l'Inde que s'exerce l'activité d'un troisième contemporain, Sâh Ni’matullah Walî. Descendant d'une famille du Fars, Ni’matullah naquit à Alep. Après avoir reçu sa formation dans les écoles de Chiraz, il fit un pèlerinage à La Mecque où il rencontra le célèbre soufi et faqih chaféite, ‘Abdallah Yâfi’î dont il devint le disciple. Par Yâfi’i, Ni’matullah se rattache à la tradition occidentale, au soufisme andalou et maghrébin, adhérant fermement aux idées d'Ibn ‘Arabi, ainsi qu'en témoignent ses nombreux écrits. Ayant achevé son apprentissage à La Mecque, Ni’matullah se transporte en

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Transoxiane, aux environs de Samarcande. Là, sur les montagnes environnantes, il s'adonne aux exercices ascétiques et gagne l'adhésion de nombreux nomades. Timûr prend ombrage de son influence et l'expulse du pays. Le mystique gagne Hérat, puis Milan, près de Kerman, où il fonde un cloître. C'est là que se trouve encore aujourd'hui, avec son mausolée, le centre de l'ordre qui se réclame de lui. D'une façon peu claire, Ni’matullah gagna l'adhésion du souverain bahmanide du Deccan, Ahmad Sâh, en sorte que sa « voie » se propagea également aux Indes. Divisées en plusieurs branches qui n'ont pas plus de cent cinquante ans d'existence, les Gunâbâdî, les Dhû'l-riyâsatainî, les Safî- ‘Ali-sâhî notamment, les Ni'matullahîya sont actuellement chiites et constituent la congrégation la plus importante de la Perse ; mais, en attendant que des recherches aient fait la lumière sur sa personnalité, l'attitude personnelle du fondateur en matière confessionnelle est peu claire.

L'histoire du soufisme ne se termine pas avec le siècle qui a vu Jili, Naqsband, Hamadânî et Ni'matullah ; ni avec le siècle suivant où faisant pendant à Jâmî déjà mentionné, l'Égyptien ‘Abd al-Wahhab Sa'rânî donne, pour le monde arabe, une série de manuels, compilations, certes, mais qui serviront de base à des générations de soufis, et où, en Iran même, 'Abd al-Razzâq Lahîjî fournit, dans son commentaire du poème de Mabmûd Sabîstarî, Gulsan-i raz, une somme du soufisme d'inspiration plus ou moins chiite ; ni avec celui où vit Sarhindi. Seulement, son visage change et acquiert les traits qu'il gardera presque jusqu'à nos jours. Le principal en est le rôle important qu'y jouent dorénavant les congrégations.

Celles-ci se sont formées, à partir du VI^e siècle de l'hégire, autour de maîtres célèbres. La plus ancienne est celle des Qâdirîya ; une des plus récentes, qui n'a pas deux siècles d'existence, est celle des Sanûsiya dont nous avons vu les chefs, de nos jours, monter sur le trône de Libye. Le processus de formation est toujours le même : des disciples se rassemblent autour d'un maître à forte personnalité qui leur enseigne une discipline particulière, une forme de dhikr spéciale, des doctrines plus ou moins originales. Après sa mort, son enseignement est transmis oralement ou consigné par écrit, dans l'une des innombrables Vies de soufis que connaissent toutes les littératures du monde islamique. La maison-mère de l'ordre se trouve très souvent au mausolée même du fondateur, où réside son successeur ; mais la structure de l'ordre n'est pas toujours rigide et la centralisation est même plutôt exceptionnelle.

Ces ordres diffèrent entre eux par leur doctrine, par leur discipline, par leurs pratiques. Chacun représente une « voie » menant à Dieu, d'où leur nom de tarîqa (pl. turuq). L'adepte est formé et, le moment venu, initié : on lui révèle alors la silsila, la chaîne initiatique, succession ininterrompue des maîtres depuis le temps du Prophète.

A partir du X^e siècle de l'hégire, on peut être initié à plusieurs silsila. Aussi bien aux Indes que dans les États ottomans, la coutume d'affiliation multiple se développe. On collectionne les diplômes, les igaza des cheikhs des différentes turuq, comme on collectionne ceux des oulémas avec qui on a lu les diffé-

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rents ouvrages de jurisprudence. Il s'agit d'acquérir la connaissance de plusieurs méthodes d'approche vers Dieu, avant de choisir la plus appropriée. Un même cheikh, d'ailleurs, peut enseigner selon plusieurs méthodes et initier ses disciples à plusieurs congrégations à la fois. Il existe même une possibilité d'affiliation globale, d'admission simultanée dans deux ou trois tarîqa. Nous avons déjà vu le cas de Sarhindi, affilié à six congrégations au moins. A son époque et dans son milieu, cela n'avait rien d'exceptionnel.

Dans l'Iran safavide, au contraire, l'affiliation multiple a toujours été très mal vue et l'on voit même apparaître, à l'inverse, des spirituels qui, malgré leurs tendances mystiques, refusent l'affiliation au mouvement soufi ; l'exemple le plus notable a été fourni par quelques personnalités de l'école philosophique d'Isfahan, notamment par Mullâ Muhsin Faidh Kâsânî.

Mais, même dominé par la pratique d'affiliation multiple, le soufisme maniéré de l'Empire ottoman a produit quelques personnalités marquantes. La plus connue sans doute est, au XII^e siècle de l'hégire, celle du mystique syrien `Abd al-Gani al-Nablûsî. Né et mort à Damas, Nablûsî beaucoup voyagé, et a laissé une relation de ses voyages. Affilié à la fois aux Mevlevîya, aux Qâdirîya et aux Naqsbandîya, il a écrit des traités sur ces congrégations. Mais il est surtout connu comme commentateur d'Ibn ‘Arabi et d'Ibn al-Farid. On a de lui également plusieurs petits écrits où il prend position sur certains points du droit et de la doctrine. Nous ne mentionnerons que son Idah al-magsûd fi ma' nâ wahdat al-wujûd. Il commence par constater que, parmi les gens de Dieu, il y a deux catégories, les oulémas et les mystiques.

Les premiers basent leur science sur le raisonnement et l'étude des livres écrits, les seconds sur la découverte mystique et les exercices ascétiques ; les premiers ont pour objectif l'accomplissement des devoirs religieux, les seconds l'obtention de la contemplation de Dieu. D'où certains malentendus entre les deux groupes. Nablûsî s'élève avec force contre la représentation selon laquelle la wahdat al-wujûd signifierait que Dieu est l'essence des créatures et les créatures l'essence de Dieu ; il maintient leur distinction absolue :

... Ce que signifie le wujûd par Iequel tout existant existe, éternellement ou dans le temps, est plus facile à établir : il signifie que l'existant possible ne peut absolument pas se passer de l'Etre éternel ; et que son wujûd est celui de cet Etre. Certes, l'essence et la forme de l'être possible sont distinctes de celles de l'être éternel, ce sont bien deux (êtres) distincts, mais le wujûd par lequel ils existent tous les deux est unique ; en ce qui concerne l'Etre éternel, il Lui vient de Son essence ; en ce qui concerne l'être créé dans le temps, il lui vient d'un autre. L'Eternel existe par un wujûd qui est la quintessence de son essence (‘ain dhâlih), le temporel par un wujûd qui est la quintessence de l'essence de l'Eternel. Mais l'Eternel n'est pas la quintessence de l'Essence du temporel, et le temporel n'est pas la quintessence de l'essence de l'Eternel, chacun d'eux est distinct de l'autre en ce qui concerne son essence et ses attributs, même s'ils ont en commun de se manifester par un wujûd unique et de persister par lui. Or, si le wujûd unique appartient à l'Eternel par Sa propre essence et au temporel par l'Eternel et non par sa propre essence, ce wujûd unique est, chez l'Eternel, un wujûd absolu selon une modalité on ne peut plus grande, et, chez le temporel, un wujûd

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conditionné, selon une modalité qui convient au temporel, inférieure A la première selon une infériorité due au temporel, non A l'Eternel. (Cité d'après le ms. 2266 de la bibliothèque des Awgâf d'Alep, copié en 1119 de l'hégire. L'original fut composé le vendredi 12 a'ban 1091 h.)

Telle est la conception de la wahdat al-wujûd que professe Nablûsî et pour laquelle il invoque le patronage des maîtres comme Ibn Arabi, Ibn Sab’in, Ibn al-Farid et Abd al Karim Jîlî. Malgré quelques différences surtout terminologiques elle n'est pas tellement éloignée de celle que proposa, un siècle plus tôt, Ahmad Farûqî Sarhindi. Car, en défendant la pureté du message islamique, le soufisme a pu formuler sa métaphysique en des termes variables selon les cas, surtout lorsqu'il s'agissait de prendre ses distances à l'égard de mouvements inspirés par les religions étrangères ; mais le fond de la doctrine restait toujours le même, à savoir l'exaltation de la puissance absolue de Dieu, un amour ardent pour Dieu, la contemplation de Dieu en toutes choses. Jamais il n'a tourné au panthéisme, et la mystique musulmane est toujours restée fidèle à son inspiration coranique. Et, par-delà le Coran, à travers des formulations philosophiques d'allure néo-platonicienne, elle a toujours défendu la distinction établie par Parménide entre la Voie de la Vérité et celle de l'Opinion, entre le domaine de la Réalité et celui de la Métaphore. Car, pour le soufisme comme pour Goethe, alles Vergängliche ist nur ein Gleichnis, « tout ce qui passe n'est que ressemblance ».

NOTE BIBLIOGRAPHIQUE [omise]

§

Je fais suivre cet exposé du spécialiste des Hommes du blâme disparu trop tôt - unique par la profondeur rendant compte d’un vécu mystique certainement partagé - par deux textes de nature purement historique. L’anglais Arberry nous sert de bref contrepoint au récit précédent par son approche classique externe (une parmi d’autres possibles) ; la lecture peut en être reportée. L’Indien Rizvi couvre avec précision l’histoire des spirituels Naqsbandis depuis leur pénétration en Inde au seizième siècle. Deux chapitres sont extraits d’une œuvre rare par sa qualité et qui demeure concrètement d’accès malaisé.

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Mysticism (A.J.Arberry)

CHAPTER 6 ³⁰

‘Religious mysticism,' wrote W. R. Inge in his classic Christian mysticism, ‘may be defined as the attempt to realize the presence of the living God in the soul and in nature, or, more generally, as the attempt to realize, in thought and feeling, the immanence of the temporal in the eternal, and of the eternal in the temporal.' Many other definitions of mysticism have been formulated, and some of these have been re-examined with critical acumen by Professor R. C. Zaehner in his Mysticism sacred and profane. It is worth recalling that the mystics of Islam were equally at a loss to reach a precise and satisfactory description of the undescribable; Professor R. A. Nicholson once collected a very large list of definitions of Sufism by practising Sûfis./1 If mysticism in general is beyond accurate and concise definition, the particular variety of mysticism known as Sufism may perhaps be described briefly as the attempt of individual Muslims to realize in their personal experience the living presence of Allah.
The Christian mystic in his quest for union with God relies first upon the person of Jesus Christ who, being of the Godhead, is Himself both the object of worship, the supreme model, and the goal of attainment. Next he studies the nature of God and His purpose in the world as revealed in the Holy Scriptures. For examples of mystical endeavour he turns to the lives of the saints and the writings of the mystics. Finally he seeks to prepare himself for the gift of Divine grace by observing the sacraments and acts of public worship, by the assiduous practice of self-denial, and by private meditation and other recommended forms of spiritual exercise. The Muslim mystic has no Christ-figure to mediate and intercede between himself and Allah. The person of Muhammad, it is true, idealized in time as the Perfect Man, came partly to supply that want; but Muhammad was never accorded divine honours. For the Sûfi, the Logos was God revealed in His speech (the Qur'an) and His act (the created world); so the Qur'an was the focus of his faith and meditation, the physical universe the arena in which he observed God in action. Like his Christian brother, he could follow his prescribed discipline of public ritual and private devotion. The early saints of
/1 R. A. Nicholson, 'A Historical Enquiry concerning the Origin and Development of Sufism', in JRAS (1906), 303-48.
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Islam furnished him with abundant example, the supreme model being the founder of the faith. Later on, many manuals were written for the instruction of the mystic, and convents were founded to promote the communal life of austerity and the service of God.
The formative period of Sufism extended over the first three centuries of the Muslim era. The term tasawwûf (i.e., Sufism) was derived from sûf (wool); the Sûfi by wearing coarse woollen garments, according to some accounts in emulation of Christian practice,/1 proclaimed his renunciation of the world. Asceticism and quietism characterized the first phase of this movement, which was essentially a reaction against the wealth and luxury that, flooding in from the conquered provinces of Byzantium and Persia, threatened to overwhelm Islam and to destroy its primitive simplicity and other-worldliness. An eloquent spokesman of this protest was Hasan al-Basri (d. 120/728), a man equally famous in the history of Muslim theology, for he is reputed a founder of the Mu`tazili school. Enjoying the confidence of the godly ‘Umar II, he set the fashion, followed by later Sûfis to their great personal risk, of blunt preaching against corruption in high places before the caliph himself. Others through the second/eighth century registered their disapproval by going apart from their fellows : in conscious imitation of the Christian anchorites still scattered through the Levant, they took refuge in caves and deserts where they devoted themselves wholly to the life of self-denial. Such were the men described by a woman ascetic of Syria./2

Their every purpose is with God united, 
Their high ambitions mount to Him alone;
Their troth is to the Lord and Master plighted—
O noble quest, for the Eternal One!

They do not quarrel over this world's pleasure—
Honours, and children, rich and costly gowns, 
All greed and appetite! They do not treasure
The life of ease and joy that dwells in towns.

Facing the far and faint horizon yonder
They seek the Infinite, with purpose strong;
They ever tread where desert runnels wander,
And high on towering mountain-tops they throng.

Still others, and they the great majority, sought to solve their personal problem by earning a bare subsistence in honest and lawful toil in the
1 See A. J. Arberry, Sufism (London, 1950), 34-5; L. Massignon, Essai sur les origines du lexique technique de la mystique musulmane, (Paris, 1922), 131.
2 Quoted in al-Kalâbâdhi, Kitâb al-Ta`arruf (Cairo, 1934), 10.
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practise of useful crafts, otherwise keeping to their humble apartments and occupying their days and nights with the service of God.
The ascetic movement spread from Medina to Kufa and Basra, to Damascus and newly founded Baghdad, to the distant provinces of Khurâsan and Sind. Presently two principal centres of Sufism developed; in the capital city of Islam, and in north-eastern Persia. A pioneer in the latter region was Ibrahim b. Adham, reputed prince of Balkh, who gave up his kingdom in answer to the heavenly challenge, and wandered abroad; he hired himself out as a jobbing gardener in Syria, and achieved the martyr's crown about 160/776 fighting against Byzantium. Contemporary with him were the learned traditionist Sufyan al-Thawri of Kûfa (d. 161/778) who founded a short-lived school of jurisprudence, and suffered persecution because he refused public office; and the famous woman-saint Rabi`a of Basra (d. 185/801), a lifelong virgin by conviction who preached the new doctrine of Divine love./1

Two ways I love Thee: selfishly,
And next, as worthy is of Thee.
'Tis selfish love that I do naught
Save think on Thee with every thought.
'Tis purest love when Thou dost raise
The veil to my adoring gaze.
Not mine the praise in that or this :
Thine is the praise in both, I wis.
The transition from simple asceticism to a complex theory of the mystical discipline, and thereafter to a highly developed theosophy, took place during the third/ninth century. The exact course of this transformation cannot now be traced with confidence, since our knowledge of the leading figures in the first phase depends upon secondary sources. Shaqiq of Balkh (d. 194/81 o), for instance, is said to have been the first to define trust in God (tawakkul) as a mystical state (hâl). This statement rests on a relatively late authority,/2 and presumes that in his time the distinction had already been drawn between station (maqâm) and state (hâl). This differentiation, which belongs to a mature and elaborate theory of the mystic's progress towards his goal of passing away in God (fana'), defines ‘station' as a degree attained by personal effort, whereas ‘state' represents an advance contingent upon grace.
1 Translation by R. A. Nicholson, A literary history of the Arabs (Cambridge, 1941), 234. For another version see D. S. Margoliouth, The early development of Mohammedanism (London, 1914), 175.
9 Sibt Ibn al-Jawzi (d. 654/1257), quoted by Massignon, Essai, 228.
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'The states are gifts, the stations are earnings' is how the classic theorist of Sufism, al-Qushayri (d. 46 5 /1072) put the matter. In the sayings attributed to Shaqiq the technical term ma`rifa also occurs ; this word was used by the Sufis to denote mystical knowledge of God, as distinct from formal knowledge (`ilm) derived from revelation and reason and shared by all thoughtful believers; it is generally translated `gnosis'. Another respectable fifth/eleventh-century source puts this key word already into the mouth of 'Abd Allah b. al-Mubarak of Merv (d. 181/797), otherwise known as a Traditionist who collected sayings of the Prophet on the theme of self-denial (zuhd). Yet the name commonly associated with the introduction into Sûfi doctrine of the idea of gnosis is Dhu'l-Nun al-Misri (d. 2.46/861), a more substantial figure for all that much legend of alchemy and unriddling of the hieroglyphs and thaumaturgy has gathered around his powerful personality.
In the life of Dhu'l-Nun, whose grave is still to be seen near the Pyramids, three streams of the Sufi movement ran together. Visited in Egypt by mystics from Persia, he was summoned to Baghdad to answer charges of heresy, and thus had close personal contact with the two principal schools of theosophy. Supposed, after gnostic fashion, to be in possession of the secret of the Greatest Name of God, in his litanies and poems he exhibits a convincing awareness of the presence of God in the world and within the mystic's soul.
« O God, I never hearken to the voices of the beasts or the rustle of the trees, the splashing of waters or the song of the birds, the whistling of the wind or the rumble of thunder, but I sense in them a testimony to Thy unity, and a proof of Thy incomparableness ; that Thou art the All-prevailing, the All-knowing, the All-wise, the All-just, the All-true, and that in Thee is neither overthrow nor ignorance nor folly nor injustice nor lying. O God, I acknowledge Thee in the proof of Thy handiwork and the evidence of Thy acts : grant me, O God, to seek Thy satisfaction with my satisfaction, and the delight of a Father in His child, remembering Thee in my love for Thee, with serene tranquillity and firm resolve. »
Dhu'l-Nûn's arraignment before the Caliph al-Mutawakkil, relentless champion of strict orthodoxy in its war against the ‘rationalizing' Mu`tazila, was symptomatic of the alarm which the growing boldness and popularity of Safi preaching had awakened in the hearts of professional divines. The Egyptian gnostic was but one of many Sûfis who faced persecution during this period, culminating in the public scandal and cruel execution of al-IIallâj (d. 309/922). More shocking to con-
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servative opinion than Dhu'l-Nun's poetical utterances was the unrestrained language of Abu Yazid (Bayazid) al-Bistami (d. 261/875), protagonist of the Khurasanian school of `intoxicated' mysticism. Whether under Indian influence (as Horten and Zaehner have argued) or independently reaching Vedantist conclusions, Abu Yazid claimed actually to have achieved union with God. ‘Subhâni! m a`zama sha'ni!' (` Glory be to me ! how great is my majesty! ') : this ejaculation of ecstasy, explained away by Sufi apologists as God speaking through the annihilated mystic, sounded to less sympathetic ears very like a claim to divinity. Meditating on the popular story of the Prophet's ascension (mi`râj) to the seventh heaven, Abu Yazid experienced a like rapture of the spirit and set a precedent which other Sufis aspired to follow.
« When He brought me to the brink of the Divine Unity, I divorced myself and betook myself to my Lord, calling upon Him to succour me. `Master,' I cried, `I beseech Thee as one to whom nothing else remains.' When He recognized the sincerity of my prayer, and how I had despaired of myself, the first token that came to me proving that He had answered this prayer was that He caused me to forget myself utterly, and to forget all creatures and all dominions. So I was stripped of all cares, and remained without any care. Then I went on traversing one kingdom after another; whenever I came to them I said to them, `Stand, and let me pass.' So I would make them stand and I would pass until I reached them all. So He drew me near, appointing for me a way to Him nearer than soul to body. Then He said, `Abù Yazid, all of them are My creatures, except thee.' I replied, `So I am Thou, and Thou art I, and I am Thou.' »
The founder of the Baghdad school of speculative mysticism was al-Harith b. Asad al-Muhasibi (d. 243/837). Born at Basra in 165/781, he moved to the capital early in life and became an accomplished student of Traditions, by then a very flourishing science. His readiness to accept as authentic sayings of the Prophet favourable to Sufi ideas brought upon him the wrath of Ahmad b. Hanbal, formidable inceptor of the conservative Hanbali school of jurisprudence, and for a time he had to flee back to his native city. Presently however he returned to Baghdad, and enlisted a following of disciples to whom he imparted his doctrines in a series of books, most famous of which is al-Ri`aya li-huqûq Allah (‘The observance of God's rights'). This work laid the foundations of the ‘science' of mysticism; attentively studied, it served as a model for later writers. Al-Muhasibi supported his theses with frequent references to the Qur'an and the Traditions, after the manner of the orthodox lawyer and theologian. In another book, the Kitâb
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al-nasa'ib (‘Book of counsels'), he describes his desperate search for the way of salvation out of the seventy-odd sects into which Islam had been split; the’ saved' proved to be the Sufis, whose company he accordingly joined.
« Then the merciful God gave me to know a people in whom I found my godfearing guides, models of piety, that preferred the world to come above this world. They ever counselled patience in hardship and adversity, acquiescence in fate, and gratitude for blessings received; they sought to win men to a love of God, reminding them of His goodness and kindness and urging them to repentance unto Him. These men have elaborated the nature of religious conduct, and have prescribed rules for piety, which are past my power to follow. I therefore knew that religious conduct and true piety are a sea wherein the like of me must needs drown, and which such as I can never explore. Then God opened unto me a knowledge in which both proof was clear and decision shone, and I had hopes that whoever should draw near to this knowledge and adopt it for his own would be saved. I therefore saw that it was necessary for me to adopt this knowledge, and to practise its ordinances ; I believed in it in my heart, and embraced it in my mind, and made it the foundation of my faith. Upon this I have built my actions, in it moved in all my doings. »
With these words al-Muhasibi accepted the challenge flung down by the orthodox, claiming the Sufis to be the truly orthodox; at the same time he opened the door to that grand reconciliation between theology and mysticism which ensued a century and more after him. He had defended the Sufi cause by using the same weapons as its most rigorous opponents, the powerful coalition of Traditionists and lawyers. His disciple al-Junayd (d. 289/910) resumed the argument and fought it out with the second most influential group, the scholastic theologians. The central problem agitating the minds of the religious learned in this century of decision was to elucidate a comprehensive doctrine of the cardinal dogma of Islam, the Divine Unity (tawhid). This topic was treated by al-Junayd in a series of subtly-composed epistles (Rasâ'il) written to or for his fellow-Sufis, and collected after his death. He summed up his findings in a famous definition which came to be accepted as authoritative by most Sufis, and commanded the approval of even so strict a Hanbali as Ibn Taymiyya (d. 728/1328): ifrad al Qadim 'an al-muhdath (‘the separation of the Eternal from what was originated in time'). This formula involved, on the human side, the central point of Sufi theory, that the mystic may hope, by God's grace crowning his own exertions, ultimately to reach a state of self-naughting that he passes away (in fana') from his human attributes and survives eternally
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(in baqâ') united with God. In this stage ‘the servant of God returns to his first state, that he is as he was before he existed'. It has been well pointed out/1 that this idea of a pre-existence of the human soul seems to echo neo-Platonic ideas, specifically as expressed by Plotinus in Enneads vi, 4. 14: ‘Before we had our becoming here, we existed There, men other than now; we were pure souls ... Now we are become a dual thing, no longer that which we were at first, dormant, and in a sense no longer present.' If in fact al-Junayd here leaned on what had been already translated of the Greek philosophers, he concealed the borrowing well, citing in proof of his startling theory the celebrated ‘Covenant' (mithâq) verse of Qur'an, 7. 171.

And when thy Lord took from the Children of Adam,
from their loins, their seed, and made them testify 
touching themselves, 'Am I not your Lord,'
They said, 'Yes, we testify.'

Al-Junayd gathered around him a large circle of men of like purpose, mostly learned artisans, and the discussions which enlivened those regular meetings for instruction and meditation bore abundant fruit. One of the leading personalities was Abu Said al-Kharraz, author of the surviving Kitâb al-sidq (‘Book of truthfulness'), credited by al-Hujwiri (d. c. 467/1075) with the invention of the doctrine of fana' and baqâ' which loomed so large in his master's teaching. Some of al-Junayd's followers were inspired by what they heard and witnessed to become poets of the mystical life; the handful of their verses saved from the shipwreck of time is a tantalizing reminder of the much more that is lost. Such a one was Abu'l-Husayn al-Nûri, so named because he saw the Divine Light (nûr).

O God, I fear Thee: not because
I dread the wrath to come; for how
Can such affright, when never was
A friend more excellent than Thou?

Thou knowest well the heart's design,
The secret purpose of the mind;
And I adore Thee, Light Divine,
Lest lesser lights should make me blind.

Poetry now became an important element in the discipline as well as the literature of Sufism. One of the exercises found most effective in
/1 Ali Abdel Kader, `The Doctrine of al-Junayd', in The Islamic Quarterly, 1954), 167-77. 
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stimulating ecstasy was to listen to the recitation of verses, sometimes to musical accompaniment. The practice of ‘audition' (sama') reminiscent of the use of music in Christian liturgies, and even dancing, gave rise to fierce controversy which raged for many centuries; the Hanbalis in particular were loud in condemning so dangerous an innovation. One was dealing not merely with metaphysical poetry, which though strange and novel could hardly be denounced on moral grounds. To al-Junayd himself we owe some verses of this character.

Now I have known, O lord,
What lies within my heart;
In secret, from the world apart,
My tongue has talked with my Adored.

So in a manner we
United are, and One;
Yet otherwise disunion
Is our estate eternally.

Though from my gaze profound 
Deep awe has hid Thy face,
In wondrous and ecstatic grace
I feel Thee touch my inmost ground.

In like manner another unknown poet-mystic of the Baghdad circle spoke of the transforming union.

When truth its light Both show,
I lose myself in reverence,
And am as one who never travelled thence
To life below.

When I am absented
From self in Him, and Him attain,
Attainment's self thereafter proveth vain
And self is dead.

In union divine
With Him, Him only I do see;
I dwell alone, and that felicity
No more is mine.

This mystic union
From self bath separated me:
Now witness concentration's mystery
Of two made one.

If the verses recited at Sûfi concerts had been confined to such compositions, few would have cavilled. The scandal arose from the use
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of profane literature—the love-poems of an 'Umar b. Abi Rabi'a, the bacchanalian effusions of an Abu Nuwas—chanted by a handsome youth whose beauty was taken as a focus of concentration, being an example of the handiwork of the Divine Artist. This convention, no doubt innocent enough in its inception, gave rise to suspicion of grave misconduct; it also engendered the rich and fine literature of the Persian ghazal.
Whilst the Baghdad circle was thus contributing massively to the development of a metaphysic of mysticism, no less important advances were continuing to be made in Persia. Sahl b. 'Abd Allah al-Tustari (d. 283/896), to whom is accredited the first Sufi commentary on the Qur'an, evolved a doctrine of letters and light which later influenced the Spanish school from Ibn Masarra to Ibn al-`Arabi. Abu 'Abd Allah al-Tirmidhi (fl. 285/898) in a long series of books and pamphlets, many of which are extant, elaborated a kind of mystic psychology which was taken up by al-Ghazali and incorporated into his system; he also enunciated a novel doctrine of sainthood and prophecy which reappeared in the writings of Ibn al-`Arabi. Meanwhile al-Hallaj, born about 244/858 in the province of Fars, wandered through a large part of the Muslim world, reaching as far as India and the borders of China, preaching a form of union with God which outraged the orthodox, and shocked many of his fellow-Sûfis; condemned as an ‘incarnationist' and a blasphemer, he was gibbeted in Baghdad in 309/922.
« If ye do not recognize God, at least recognize His signs. I am that sign, I am the Creative Truth, because through the Truth I am a truth eternally. My friends and teachers are Iblis and Pharaoh. Iblis was threatened with Hell-fire, yet he did not recant. Pharaoh was drowned in the sea, yet he did not recant, for he would not acknowledge anything between him and God. And I, though I am killed and crucified, and though my hands and feet are cut off—I do not recant. »
The foregoing extract from his Kitâb al-tawâsin places in its context the notorious phrase Ana'l--Haqq (‘I am the Creative Truth') which the adversaries of al-Hallaj fastened on as a claim to personal apotheosis. The legend of his death invites comparison with the Christian story of the Crucifixion, which may well have been in his mind as his torturers made ready to slay him./1
/1 This and the preceding citation are from versions made by R. A. Nicholson, The idea of personality in Sufism (Cambridge, 1923), 32; `Mysticism', in T. Arnold and A. Guillaume (edd.), The legacy of Islam (Oxford, 1931), 217.
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« When he was brought to be crucified and saw the cross and the nails, he turned to the people and uttered a prayer, ending with the words : 'And these Thy servants who are gathered to slay me, in zeal for Thy religion and in desire to win Thy favour, forgive them, O Lord, and have mercy upon them; for verily if Thou hadst revealed to them that which Thou hast revealed to me, they would not have done what they have done; and if Thou hadst hidden from me that which Thou hast hidden from them, I should not have suffered this tribulation. Glory unto Thee in whatsoever Thou doest, and glory unto Thee in whatsoever Thou willest.' »
The brutal martyrdom of al-Hallaj startled into circumspection all but the most God-intoxicated Sûfis, who thereafter strove for a way of reconciliation. The mystics of the fourth/tenth century in the main returned to a safer pattern of behaviour and public utterance. The long life of Ibn Khafif, who died in Shiraz in 371/982, was a model of scrupulous piety and a careful regard for orthodoxy. A number of scholars now judged the time ripe to sum up the doctrine and practices of the Sufis as embodied in the school of al-Junayd, and to argue that these were in harmony with the Sunni code and creed. Abu Nasr al-Sarraj (d. 378/988)  in his Kitâb al-luma (‘Book of flashes'), and Abû Tâlib al-Makki (d. 3 86/996) in his Qût al-qulûb (‘Food for the hearts') produced lengthy and learned treatises which in their sedulous advocacy of moderation went far to allay the suspicions of all but the most conservative theologians. In a shorter work, the Kitâb al-ta'arruf li-madhhab ahl al-tasawwuf (` The doctrine of the Sufis') Abu Bakr al-Kalabadhi (d. c. 385/995),  who also wrote a commentary on Traditions, prefaced his description of Sûfi mystical theory with an account of their theology which corresponds closely to, and even quotes from, a Hanbali creed published in his own lifetime. Then Abû 'Abd al-Rahman al-Sulami (d. 412/1021), a busy author who wrote an extensive Sufi exegesis of the Qur'an and many lesser works, compiled in his Tabaqât al-Sûfiyya (‘Classes of Sûfis') the first comprehensive register of Muslim mystics. This pioneering book, aimed at proving the right of the Sûfis to be accorded the same serious treatment as Traditionists, theologians, lawyers, poets, grammarians and the rest of classified notables, was followed shortly afterwards by the encyclopaedic Ililyat al-awliyâ' (‘Ornament of the saints') put together by that learned biographer Abû Nu'aym al-Isfahan (d. 430/1038) and published in ten large volumes. Then in 437/ 1045 Abu'l-Qasim al-Qushayri (d. 465/1074), who also wrote a Sûfi commentary on the Qur'an and numerous other books, promul-
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gated his famous Risâla (‘Epistle') which set the seal on the work of rehabilitation and was accepted as the classical exposition of orthodox Sufism. Not many years later Hujwiri composed his Kashf al-mahjûb (‘Uncovering of the veiled'), the first treatise on Sufism in the Persian language. To round off this summary account of the century of consolidation, we may note the names of two of the greatest figures in medieval Islam : the Persians, 'Abd Allah al-Ansari (d. 481/1088) and Abû Hamid al-Ghazali (d. 505 / 1111).
By the end of the fifth/eleventh century a broad measure of agreement had been reached on the meaning of Sufism and the details of Sûfi experience and theory. Sufism was very far from pretending to be an independent sect of Islam, a separatist movement such as those which had broken to fragments the legendary monolithic communion of the early years of the faith. The great teachers of those times were no Luthers or Wesleys, founding breakaway churches. Islam was in dire need of reform and revival, but the Sûfis elected to reform and revive from within; they even succeeded in overriding the embattled frontiers between Sunna and Shia. The last obstacle in the path of complete assimilation was swept aside by the gigantic labours of al-Ghazali, that most eminent theologian and jurist, who demolished the philosophers and philosophizing Isma`ilis, and completed a reconciliation between orthodoxy and mysticism which immensely strengthened both to withstand the battery of adverse circumstance soon to be loosed against the very existence of Islam. His masterpiece of irenic propaganda, the Ihyâ' `ulûm al-din, proved to be more than what its title claimed, a `revivification of the religious sciences'; it led to a revival of the religion itself.
As has been stated, the classic description of Sufism, studied as a textbook in the medieval colleges and commented upon by many eminent scholars, was the Risâla of al-Qushayri. Addressed in the form of an epistle general to all Sûfis throughout the lands of Islam, the book opens with an eloquent exposition of a familiar theme, lamenting the decay of true religion and calling for a return to true faith and sincere practice. After summarizing the tenets of the Sufis, with special emphasis on their doctrine of tawhid (unitarianism), al-Qushayri lists the leaders of the movement beginning with Ibrahim b. Adham and ending with al-Rûdhbari (d. 369/980). (It is noteworthy that in compiling this catalogue he follows closely the classification established by al-Sulami; both writers exclude from the register such early figures as Hasan
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al-Basri and Malik b. Dinar, admitted to the Sûfi canon by Abu Nu'aym and Hujwiri.)
Next, al-Qushayri offers to explain the technical terms current amongst the Sûfis ; such are waqt (mystical moment), maqâm (station), hâl (state), qabd (contraction) and bast (expansion), jam' (concentration) and farq (separation), fanâ' (passing-away) and baqâ' (continuance), ghayba (absence) and hudûr (presence), sabw (sobriety) and sukr (intoxication), qurb (propinquity) and bu'd (remoteness). In defining these terms al-Qushayri was following in the footsteps of al-Sarraj, and anticipating the technical dictionaries of al-Kashani, al-Jurjani and al-Tahanawi.
[omission de nombreuses listes]
[...]
The pattern of the mystic's progress invented by 'Abd Allah al-Ansari in his celebrated Manâzil al-sa'irin (` Stages of the travellers') is still more formal and elaborate than that of any of his predecessors. Accounted the most eminent Hanbali scholar of his generation, al-Ansâri published, in the Herati dialect of Persian, biographies of the Sufis based upon the work of al-Sulami, and this compilation served in its turn as the foundation of the Nafahât al-uns (‘Exhalations of intimacy') by the great poet Jami. To the classical Persian language he contributed exquisite sentences in rhyming prose in the form of Mûnâjât (‘Litanies'), whilst his lectures on the Qur'an were worked up by a pupil into a massive commentary. Quoting a saying of Abu Bakr al-Kattani (d. 322/934) that ‘between God and the servant there are one thousand stations (maqâm) of light and darkness', al-Ansâri announces that in the interest of brevity he will reduce that total drastically. Dividing scholastically the Path into ten sections, he subdivides each section into ten chapters. The following list shows the first and last parts of this methodical and subtle
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tabulation; each topic is introduced with a quotation from the Qur'an, further analysed, and supported by appropriate definitions.
[...]
In 488/1095 Abu Hamid al-Ghazali, accounted by many the greatest Ash`ari theologian since al-Ash`ari and the greatest Shafi`i lawyer since al-Shafi`i, at the very height of his powers and fame suddenly resigned from his chair of divinity in the Nizâmiyya academy in Baghdad and went into retirement. Dissatisfied with the intellectual and legalistic approach to religion, disgusted with the hair-splitting sophistries of the philosophers and the scholastics, he took up the life of a wandering dervish searching for that personal experience of God which alone could resolve his doubts and confusions. He afterwards told the story of his conversion to Sufism in a book, al-Munqidh min al-dalâl (Deliverance from error'), which ranks amongst the greatest works of religious literature./1
« Then I turned my attention to the Way of the Sufis. I knew that it could not be traversed to the end without both doctrine and practice, and that the gist of the doctrine lies in overcoming the appetites of the flesh and getting rid of its evil dispositions and vile qualities, so that the heart may be cleared of all but God; and the means of clearing it is dhikr Allah, i.e. commemoration of God and concentration of every thought upon Him. Now, the doctrine was easier to me than the practice, so I began by learning their doctrine from the books and sayings of their Shaykhs, until I acquired as much of their Way as it is possible to acquire by learning and hearing, and saw plainly that what is most peculiar to them cannot be learned, but can only be reached by immediate experience and ecstasy and inward transformation.... I became convinced that I had now acquired all the knowledge of Sufism that could possibly be obtained by means of study; as for the rest, there was no way of coming to it except by leading the mystical life. I looked on myself as I then was. Worldly interests encompassed me on every side. Even my work as a teacher-the best thing I was engaged in-seemed unimportant and useless in view of the life hereafter. When I considered the intention of my teaching, I perceived that instead of doing it for God's sake alone I had no motive but the desire for glory and reputation. I realized that I stood on the edge of a precipice and would fall into Hell-fire unless I set about to mend my ways.... Conscious of my helplessness and having surrendered my will entirely, I took refuge with God as a man in sore trouble who has no resource left. God answered my prayer and made it easy for me to turn my back on reputation and wealth and wife and children and friends. »
/1 The following passage is quoted from R. A. Nicholson, Idea of personality, 39-40.
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After an interval of self-discipline and meditation al-Ghazali took up once more his always fluent pen. He applied himself energetically to putting on paper a complete system of belief and practice which embraced all that had been formulated by the moderate Sûfis and incorporated with this the revered teachings of the Fathers of Islam. This great task was accomplished in the Ibya' ‘ulûm al-din, later re-presented on a smaller scale for Persian readers in the Kimiyâ-yi sa`adat (`Alchemy of happiness'). These two large works, composed in easy and attractive style, were intended for the edification of the general public. In his last years al-Ghazali addressed himself to a more select circle of inner initiates, taking into his purview the neo-Platonic doctrine of emanation, thus paving the way for the so-called pantheism of Ibn al-Farid and Ibn al-`Arabi. The startling conception of the Idea of Muhammad (al-haqiqat al-Mubammadiyya) as the `light of lights' (al-nûr al-Muhammad'), present already in the suspect writings of al-Hallaj and probably deriving from Shi`i and ultimately from Gnostic sources, now came into the main stream of Sûfi doctrine.
« By ruling that the desire for Lordship, that is, the divine omnipotence, is inherent in man by nature because he is the image of God, Ghazali smoothed the path for all the pathological excesses that were later to bring Sufism into disrepute ... It is a matter of regret that Ghazali should have put the whole weight of his authority in the scale of the monistic brand of Sufism that had invaded the movement in the person of Abu Yazid; and it is a matter of surprise that a man who, when all is said and done, boasted of an intelligence well above the ordinary, should have shown himself so credulously naïve in his approach to the very questionable practices of the accredited Sufis. After Ghazali, with but few exceptions, the mystical stream—in Persia at least where little effort was made at systematization—got lost in the sands of religious syncretism in which monism, pantheism, and theism were inextricably mingled; yet this doctrinal confusion, so maddening to the intellect, produced a poetic flowering that has seldom been equalled. »/1
The sixth/twelfth century saw the beginnings of the full development of an institution which thereafter dominated the Sûfi movement and mediated its mass appeal—the tariqa or dervish order. Earlier, somewhat ephemeral `schools' of Sufi teaching had gathered around the leading figures; now the need was felt to perpetuate particular traditions of discipline, the communal life and the shared ritual. Already al-Sulami had compiled rules of companionship (âdâb al-subba) which al-Qushayri and his successors revised. The relationship between spiritual instructor
/1 R. C. Zaehner, Hindu and Muslim mysticism (London, 1960), 171,179-80.
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(shaykh, pir) and neophyte (murid, shâgird) acquired an ecclesiastical aura of authority and infallibility; ceremonies of initiation were devised involving the investiture of a distinguishing robe (khirqa) and the bestowal of letters-patent attesting true spiritual descent (silsila). Convents (ribât, khanqâh) to serve as residences and centres of instruction were founded and attracted endowments, much after the pattern of the colleges (madrasa, dar) of theology and religious jurisprudence.
The oldest of the still surviving orders is the Qadiriyya, so named after its founder 'Abd al-Qadir al-Jilâni (471-561/1078-I166). Like al-Ansâri, 'Abd al-Qâdir was primarily a strict and learned Hanbali and his chief work, al-Ghunya li-talibi tariq al-haqq (` Sufficiency for the seekers after the path of truth'), is composed in the form of a regular Hanbali textbook, except that it concludes with a section on the Sûfi way of life. The ribât in Baghdad in which he taught passed after his death under the control of his sons, and became the centre of a vigorous propaganda which carried the legend of 'Abd al-Qadir as far afield as Morocco and the East Indies. The saying put into his mouth, 'My foot is on the neck of every saint of God,' was taken to justify his elevation to the rank of a universal mediator with rights of worship not far short of the Divine. To this day his tomb in Baghdad, converted by Sultan Süleyman in 941/1535 into a spectacular shrine, attracts multitudes of pilgrims; its keeper is a direct descendant of the saint.
« The Qadiri order is on the whole amongst the most tolerant and progressive orders, not far removed from orthodoxy, distinguished by philanthropy, piety, and humility, and averse to fanaticism, whether religious or political. It seems unlikely that the founder instituted any rigid system of devotional exercises, and these in fact differ in the various congregations. A typical dhikr is the following, to be recited after the daily prayers : 'I ask pardon of the mighty God; Glorified be God; May God bless our Master Mohammed and his household and Companions; There is no God but Allah,' each phrase repeated a hundred times. » /1
Numerous sub-orders developed out of the Qadiriyya, some of which became independent; the most notable is the Rifa`iyya, founded by `Abd al-Qadir's nephew, Ahmad al-Rifa`i (d. 578/1183), and widely distributed through Turkey, Syria and Egypt. ` This order was distinguished by a more fanatical outlook and more extreme practices of self-mortification, as well as extravagant thaumaturgical exercises, such as glass-eating, fire-walking, and playing with serpents, which have
/1 H. A. R. Gibb, Mohammedanism (London, 1949), 155-6.
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been imputed to the influence of primitive Shamanism during the Mongol occupation of `Iraq in the thirteenth century./1
A second order was presently established in Baghdad by Shihab al-Din al-Suhrawardi (539-632/1144-1234), nephew of a Sûfi rector of the Nizamiyya academy and himself an accomplished Shafi`i scholar, a pupil of 'Abd al-Qadir; his best-known work is the `Awârif al-ma`ârif (` Benefits of gnoses'), commonly printed on the margins of al-Ghazali's Ihya'. The Suhrawardiyya was carried to India by Baha' al-Din al-Mûltâni. Shortly afterwards Nür al-Din al-Shadhili, born probably near Ceuta in 593/1396  and a pupil of the Maghribi Safi, Ibn Mashish, instituted his own Shadhiliyya community, whose conservative doctrine and orthodox ritual spread rapidly through North Africa, Arabia and Syria. A little later the Mawlawi (Mevlevi) order of Whirling Dervishes sprang up in Konya under the leadership of the great poet Jalal al-Din Rûmi, its characteristic circling dance symbolising the endless quest for the Divine Beloved. Thereafter the orders and sub-orders proliferated with great speed, so that Massignon was able to catalogue no fewer than 175 separate 31named tariqas, many of them having numerous branches./2
The lives of three men of exceptional genius spanned the century 560-672/1165-1273,  and cast their shadows over the whole world of Islam. The eldest of the trio, Muliyi al-Din b. al-'Arabi, was born at Murcia in southern Spain in 560/3165,  studied in Seville and Ceuta, and was initiated into Sufism in Tunis. In 598/1202 he began a long journey eastwards which took him to Mecca, where he resided for a while, through `Iraq, Anatolia and Syria; he finally settled in Damascus, where he died in 638/3240. One of the most fertile minds and fluent pens in Islam, Ibn al-'Arabi drew upon every available resource—Sunni, Shi`i, Ismaili, Sûfi, Neoplatonic, Gnostic, Hermetic—to build up a comprehensive system which he expounded in well over three hundred books and pamphlets and a large quantity of poetry. His two chief works are al-Futûhât al-Makkiyya (` Meccan revelations'), a monument of his Meccan days printed in four huge volumes and running to 560 closely packed sections, and the Fusûs al-hikam (` Bezels of wisdom'), a product of his Damascus period. His doctrines have been summarized as follows./3
(I) God is absolute Being, and is the sole source of all existence; in Him alone Being and Existence are one and inseparable.
/1 Ibid., 156. 	/2 The list is printed in EI 1, IV, 668-72.
/3  Summarized from A. E. Affifi, The mystical philosophy of Muhyid Din-ibnul Arabi (Cambridge, 1939).
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(2) The universe possesses relative being, either actual or potential; it is both eternal-existent and temporal-non-existent; eternal-existent as being in God's knowledge, and temporal-non-existent as being external to God.
(3) God is both Transcendent and Immanent, transcendence and immanence being two fundamental aspects of Reality as man knows it.
(4) Being, apart from God, exists by virtue of God's Will, acting in accordance with the laws proper to the things thus existent; His agents are the Divine Names, or universal concepts.
(5) Before coming into existence, things of the phenomenal world were latent in the Mind of God as fixed prototypes (a’yân thâbita), and were thus one with the Divine Essence and Consciousness; these prototypes are intermediaries between the One as absolute Reality and the phenomenal world.
(6) There is no such thing as union with God in the sense of becoming one with God, but there is the realization of the already existing fact that the mystic is one with God.
(7) The creative, animating and rational principle of the universe, or the First Intellect, is the Reality (Idea) of Muhammad, also called the Reality of Realities (haqiqat al-haqâ'iq) ; this principle finds its fullest manifestation in the Perfect Man (al-insân al-kâmil).
(8) Each prophet is a logos of God; the Logos is Muhammad, the `head' of the hierarchy of prophets. All these individual logoi are united in the Reality of Muhammad.
(9) The Perfect Man is a miniature of Reality; he is the microcosm, in whom are reflected all the perfect attributes of the macrocosm. Just as the Reality of Muhammad was the creative principle of the universe, so the Perfect Man was the cause of the universe, being the epiphany of God's desire to be known; for only the Perfect Man knows God, loves God, and is loved by God. For Man alone the world was made.
The second of this trio of great mystics, Ibn al-Fârid, was born in Cairo in 586/1181 and died there in 632/1235; his tomb in the Muqattam hills is a quiet and beautiful shrine. Unlike Ibn al-'Arabi, Ibn al-Fârid was no traveller, his only journey being the Mecca Pilgrimage. For him that rite was a physical counterpart of the spiritual quest, union with the Spirit of Muhammad, intermediary between God and the world. He expressed this yearning and its ultimate realization in a series of mannered odes, full of the imagery of love and intoxication, culminating in the longest ode in Arabic literature, the Nazm al-sulûk (`Poem of the way').
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In a famous passage the poet compares this world of phenomena with the projections of a shadow-play.

And be thou not all heedless of the play :
The sport of playthings is the earnestness
Of a right earnest soul. Beware: turn not
Thy back on every tinselled form or state
Illogical: for in illusion's sleep
The shadow-phantom's spectre brings to thee
That the translucent curtains do reveal.
Thou seest forms of things in every garb
Displayed before thee from behind the veil
Of ambiguity : the opposites
In them united for a purpose wise :
Their shapes appear in each and every guise :
Silent, they utter speech : though still, they move :
Themselves unluminous, they scatter light .. .
Thou seest how the birds among the boughs
Delight thee with their cooing, when they chant
Their mournful notes to win thy sympathy,
And marvellest at their voices and their words
Expressing uninterpretable speech.
Then on the land the tawny camels race
Benighted through the wilderness ; at sea
The tossed ships run amid the billows deep.
Thou gazest on twain armies—now on land,
Anon at sea—in huge battalions
Clad all in mail of steel for valour's sake
And fenced about with points of swords and spears.
The troops of the land-army—some are knights
Upon their chargers, some stout infantry;
The heroes of the sea-force—some bestride
The decks of ships, some swarm the lance-like masts.
Some violently smite with gleaming swords,
Some thrust with spears strong, tawny, quivering;
Some `neath the arrows' volley drown in fire,
Some burn in water of the flaming flares.
This troop thou seest offering their lives
In reckless onslaught, that with broken ranks
Fleeing humiliated in the rout.
And thou beholdest the great catapult
Set up and fired, to smash the fortresses
And stubborn strongholds. Likewise thou mayest gaze
On phantom shapes with disembodied souls
Cowering darkly in their dim domain,
Apparelled in strange forms that disaccord
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Most wildly with the homely guise of men;
For none would call the Jinnis homely folk.
And fishermen cast in the stream their nets
With busy hands, and swiftly bring forth fish;
And cunning fowlers spread their gins, that birds
A-hunger may be trapped there by a grain.
Ravening monsters of the ocean wreck
The fragile ships; the jungle-lions seize
Their slinking prey; birds swoop on other birds
Out of the heavens; in a wilderness
Beasts hunt for other beasts. And thou mayest glimpse
Still other shapes that I have overpassed
To mention, not relying save upon
The best exemplars. Take a single time
For thy consideration—no great while—
And thou shalt find all that appears to thee
And whatsoever thou dost contemplate
The act of one alone, but in the veils
Of occultation wrapt : when he removes
The curtain, thou beholdest none but him,
And in the shapes confusion no more reigns.

Jalâl al-Din Rami, the third of this trinity of mystical giants, was born at Balkh in 604/1207, son of a man who was himself a master Sûfi. The father, Bahâ' al-Din Walad, left a record of his meditations in a book called Ma`e rif (` Gnoses') which contains many striking descriptions of occult experiences.
« I said, `God is greater!' I saw that all corrupt thoughts, and every thought but the thought of God, all were put to rout. The idea occurred to me that until a certain form enters the mind, sincerity of worship does not appear; until the word `God' is uttered, there is no turning from corruption to wellbeing; until I conceive the image of God's attributes, and gaze upon the attributes of the creature, ecstasy and tenderness and true adoration do not manifest. Then you might say that the Adored is imaged in form; and that God has so created the utterance `God' and the names of His attributes, that when these are sensibly expressed men at once enter into worship. God, it seems has made the declaration of His unity to be the means of the cutting off of all hesitations, whereas He has made the ascription of partners to Him to be the cause of bewilderment. He has likewise made all words and thoughts to be as it were pivots.
Beholding this I said, ` Come, let me efface from my gaze all that is perishing and vincible, that when I look I may be able to see only the Victor, the Eternal. I desire that, as much as I efface, my gaze may become fixed on God's attributes as Victor and Eternal, and the true perfection of God.' As much as I effaced,
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I found myself to be the prisoner of things vincible, things created in time. It was as if God was turning about the things created in time; and in the midst of this I saw that I was upon God's shoulder. I looked again, and saw that not only I, but heaven too, and the skies, earth and the empyrean, all were upon God's shoulder : whither would He cast us ? »
Baha' al-Din fled westwards when the Mongol hordes stormed into Persia, and after long wanderings finally settled in Konya. There Jalal al-Din Rûmi spent the rest of his life, apart from a visit to Damascus, dying in 672/1273. When he came to write poetry, which he did reluctantly under the overwhelming compulsion of mystical rapture, he poured out his soul in a vast collection of odes and quatrains, naming his Diwân after his beloved mystagogue, the wandering dervish Shams al-Din of Tabriz. He also compiled a famous directory of Sûfi discipline and doctrine in the Mathnawi, six volumes of didactic verse relieved with brilliantly written illustrative anecdotes. Rumi freely acknowledged his debt to two poets who had already composed Persian epics on the Sufi way, Sana'i and Farid al-Din `Attar; the latter he had met as a boy in Nishapur. `Attar indeed contributed massively to the exposition of Sufism in a series of long poems, most celebrated of which is the Mantiq al-tayr, based upon a brief allegory composed by Abu Hamid al-Ghazali or his brother Ahmad, and epitomized by Edward Fitz-Gerald in his Bird-Parliament.
The doctrine expounded by Rumi differs little from that of 'Ibn al-`Arabi, but their objectives were widely at variance. `The Andalusian always writes with a fixed philosophical purpose, which may be defined as the logical development of a single all-embracing concept, and much of his thought expresses itself in a dialectic bristling with technicalities. Rûmi has no such aim. As E. H. Whinfield said, his mysticism is not `doctrinal' in the Catholic sense but `experimental'. He appeals to the heart more than to the head, scorns the logic of the schools, and nowhere does he embody in philosophical language even the elements of a system. The words used by Dante in reference to the Divina Commedia would serve excellently as a description of the Mathnawi: `the poem belongs to the moral or ethical branch of philosophy, its quality is not speculative but practical, and its ultimate end is to lead into the state of felicity those now enduring the miserable life of man'. The Mathnawi for the most part shows Rumi as the perfect spiritual guide engaged in making others perfect and furnishing novice and adept alike with matter suitable to their needs. Assuming the general monistic theory
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to be well known to his readers, he gives them a panoramic view of the Sûfi gnosis (direct intuition of God) and kindles their enthusiasm by depicting the rapture of those who `break through to the Oneness' and see all mysteries revealed'./1
An illustration of Rumi's technique is his treatment of the Christian theme of the Annunciation, based upon Qur'an, 19. 16-18.

And mention in the Book Mary
when she withdrew from her people
to an eastern place,
and she took a veil apart from them;
then We sent unto her Our Spirit
that presented himself to her
a man without fault.
She said, `I take refuge in
the All-merciful from thee!
If thou fearest God …'

Mary, being privately in her chamber, beheld a life-augmenting, heart-ravishing form : the Trusty Spirit rose up before her from the face of the earth, bright as the moon and the sun. Beauty without a veil rose up from the earth, even like as the sun rising in splendour from the East. Trembling overcame Mary's limbs, for she was naked and feared corruption. Mary became un-selfed, and in her selflessness she cried, ‘I will leap into the Divine protection.'
For she of the pure bosom was wont to take herself in flight to the Unseen. Seeing this world to be a kingdom without permanence, prudently she made a fortress of the Presence of God, to the end that in the hour of death she might have a stronghold which the Adversary would find no way to assail. No better fortress she saw than the protection of God; she chose a camping-place nigh to that castle.
That Proof of the Divine bounty cried out to her, ` I am the trusty messenger of the Presence. Be not afraid of me. Turn not your head away from the lordly ones of the majesty, do not withdraw yourself from such goodly confidants.'
As he spoke, a candle-wick of pure light spiralled up from his lips straight to the star Arcturus.
You are fleeing from my being into not-being. In not-being I am king and standard-bearer; verily, my house and home are in not-being, only my graven form is before Our Lady. Mary, look well, for I am a form hard to apprehend; I am both a new moon and a fantasy in the heart. I am of the light of the Lord, like the true dawn, for no night encompasses my day. Daughter of `Imran, cry not to God for refuge against me, for I have descended from the refuge of God. The refuge of God has been my origin and sustenance, the light of that refuge which was before ever word was spoken. You are taking refuge from me with God; yet in pre-eternity I am the portrait of that Refuge.
/1 R. A. Nicholson, Rûmi, poet and mystic (London), 24-5.
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I am the refuge that oft-times has been your deliverance; you are taking refuge, and I myself am that refuge. There is no bane worse than ignorance: you are with the Friend, and know not how to love. You suppose the Friend to be a stranger; you have bestowed the name of sorrow upon joy. »
By the end of the seventh/thirteenth century the creative phase of Sufism, as a reconciler of philosophy with theology and of both with personal religion, had been completed. Little remained on the intellectual level but to refine points of doctrine; two names may be singled out, those of 'Abd al-Karim al-Jili (d. 832/1428) and Jâmi (d. 898/1492. The former, following in the footsteps of Ibn al-`Arabi, perfected the concept of the Perfect Man in a treatise so entitled (al-Insân al-kâmil)./1
« The Perfect Man is the Qutb (axis) on which the spheres of existence revolve from first to last, and since things came into being he is one for ever and ever. He hath various guises and appears in diverse bodily tabernacles : in respect of some of these his name is given to him, while in respect of others it is not given to him. His own original name is Mohammed, his name of honour Abu'l-Qâsim, his description 'Abdullah, and his title Shamsu'ddín. In every age he bears a name suitable to his guise in that age. I once met him in the form of my Shaykh, Sharafu'ddin Ismâ`íl al-Jabartí, but I did not know that he (the Shaykh) was the Prophet, although I knew that he (the Prophet) was the Shaykh. This was one of the visions in which I beheld him at Zabid in A.H. 796. The real meaning of this matter is that the Prophet has the power of assuming every form. When the adept sees him in that form of Mohammed which he wore during his life, he names him by that name, but when he sees him in another form and knows him to be Mohammed, he names him by the name of the form in which he appears. The name Mohammed is not applied except to the Idea of Mohammed. »
The identification of Muhammad with the Perfect Man encouraged a cult of the Prophet which took shape in such works as the Dalâ'il al-khayrât (‘Indications of virtues’) of the Moroccan al-Jazûli (d. 870/1465), a collection of litanies and encomia which became the standard prayer-book and rivalled in popularity the famedQasidat al-burda (` Ode of the mantle') of the Egyptian poet al-Bûsiri (d. 696/1297) ; finely calligraphed and illuminated copies of both were prized as much for their baraka (magical blessing) as their artistic merit. Meanwhile the trinitarian theme of Lover, Love and Beloved, first given formal treatment by Ahmad al-Ghazâli (d. 517/1123) and developed by `Ayn al-Qudât Hamadâni (d. 52.5/1131)  and the poet Fakhr al-Din `Iraqi (d. 688/1289),  was taken
/1 R. A. Nicholson, Studies in Islamic mysticism (Cambridge, 1921), 105.
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up again and given metaphysical form by Jâmi in his Lawâ’ih (` Effulgences')./1
The Absolute does not exist without the relative, and the relative is not formulated without the Absolute; but the relative stands in need of the Absolute, while the Absolute has no need of the relative. Consequently the necessary connection of the two is mutual, but the need is on one side only, as in the case of the motion of a hand holding a key, and that of the key thus held.

O Thou whose sacred precincts none may see, 
Unseen Thou makest all things seen to be; 
Thou and we are not separate, yet still 
Thou hast no need of us, but we of Thee.

It is in regard to His essence that the Absolute has no need of the relative. In other respects the manifestation of the names of His Divinity and the realization of the relations of His Sovereignty are clearly impossible otherwise than by use of the relative.

In me Thy beauty love and longing wrought:
Did I not seek Thee how could'st Thou be sought ?
My love is as a mirror in the which
Thy beauty into evidence is brought.

Nay, what is more, it is the ` Truth ' who is Himself at once the lover and the beloved, the seeker and the sought. He is loved and sought in His character of the ` One who is all ' ; and He is lover and seeker when viewed as the sum of all particulars and plurality.
The following extract from the beginning of the Lawâ'ib of `Ayn al-Qudat further illustrates the meditation on the great mystery of creation, first enunciated in a Tradition beloved of the Sûfis, `I was a hidden treasure and desired to be known, so I created the creation in order that I might be known.'
« Spirit and Love came into existence both at one time, being manifested out of the same Creator. Spirit discovered itself to be intermingled with Love, and Love proved to be in suspense upon Spirit. Inasmuch as it was the property of Spirit to be in suspense upon Love, and Love out of its subtlety was intermingled with Spirit, by virtue of that suspense and intermingling union supervened between them. I do not know whether Love became the attribute and Spirit the essence, or Love became the essence and Spirit the attribute; however the matter may have been, the result was that the two became one.
« When the radiance of the beauty of the Beloved first manifested out of the Divine Heart, Love began to converse with Spirit. Inasmuch as the one was related to air and the other to fire, the air kindled the fire while the fire consumed the air, so that the fire became the victor and the air received the vanquished;
/1 E. H. Whinfield(ed. and tr.), Lawâ'ib(London, 1907), 36-7.
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and God pronounced over Being the words, It spares not, neither leaves alone (Qur'ân, 74. 28). Love, which had been the victor, encountering the rays of the lights of the Beloved became vanquished. For this reason it is impossible to know whether Love conforms more with the Lover or with the Beloved, because Love rules over the Lover, whereas Love is a prisoner in the clutches of the Beloved's omnipotence.

Thy love is now the ruler of my soul,
And helplessly I wait on Thy command;
A prisoner in Thy omnipotent hand,
I do not see what cure may make me whole.

Most Persian poetry (apart from political panegyric) from the fifth/ eleventh century onwards was impregnated with the ideas and imagery of Sufism. Jâmi, last of the classical poets, being a convinced Sufi, a member indeed of the Naqshbandi order, in his voluminous writings in prose and verse rehearsed again and again the legends of the mystics and the mystical meaning of the legends. His Nafahat al-uns brought hagiography down to his own times and teachers; in his graceful idylls, the Salamân wa-Absâl, the Laylâ wa-Majnûn, the Yûsuf wa-Zulaykhâ, he interpreted stories religious and profane as variations of the same unchanging theme, the agonizing quest of the Lover for the Beloved. This same topic continued to inspire Persian poets down to the nineteenth century, as in verses ascribed to the Bâbi heroine, Qurrat al-`Ayn./1

« The thralls of yearning love constrain in the bonds of pain and calamity
These broken-hearted lovers of thine to yield their lives in their zeal for Thee.
Though with sword in hand my Darling stand with intent to slay, though I sinless be,
If it pleases Him, this tyrant's whim, I am well content with his tyranny. »

Even into the twentieth century the more intellectual bent of the Arab tradition of Sufism found expression in the writings of an Algerian mystic, Shaykh Ahmad al-`Alawi (d. 193 4). /2

I am Essentially One, Single, Unencroachable
By the least object. Leave I any crevice,
Any space vacant that to another might go ?
For the Inside am I of the Essence in Itself
And the Outside of the Quality, Diffuse Concentration.
`Thither' is there none whither I am not turning.
Doth other than Me exist, empty of My Attribute ?
My Essence is the Essence of Being, now,
/1 Translation by E. G. Browne, see A Persian Anthology, 70-71..
/2 Martin Lings, A Moslem saint of the twentieth century (London, 1961), 203.
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Always. My Infinity is not limited by the least
Grain of mustard. Where can the creature
Find room to intrude on the Truth's Infinite ?
Where other than It, when All is Full ?
Union and separation are thus in Principle the same,
And to behold creation is to behold the Truth,
If creation be interpreted as it truly is.

Indeed, the history of creation from beginning to end was summed up long ago in a couple of stanzas by Rûmi, epitomizing the whole intricate but essentially simple Sûfi doctrine.

Happy was I
In the pearl's heart to lie;
Till, lashed by life's hurricane,
Like a tossed wave I ran.
The secret of the sea
I uttered thunderously;
Like a spent cloud on the shore
I slept, and stirred no more.

Sufism (S.A.A. Rizvi)

Chapter One ³²

Sufism represents the inward or esoteric side of Islam; it may, for the sake of convenience, be described as the mystical dimension of Islam. As depicted by Walter T. Stace, mysticism is not to be understood in the sense of the occult or telepathy, and he excludes even visions and voices from the list of mystical phenomena. ‘A fully developed mystical experience’, says Stace, `involves the apprehension of an ultimate non-sensuous unity in all things, a oneness or a One to which neither the sense nor the reason can penetrate. In other words, it entirely transcends our sensory-intellectual consciousness./1
Mystical experience is not necessarily a religious phenomenon. Although it may give mystic feelings of peace, joy and ecstasy independent of a religious framework, followers of different religions can operate mystically within the laws of their own creed. Thus we have Hindu mysticism, Jewish mysticism, Christian mysticism, Islamic mysticism and Buddhist mysticism, although, of course, the Buddha of the Pali canon of the Hinayana repudiated the concept of self.33 To religious mystics, their experiences involve an intuitive or spiritual awareness of God which transcend empirical experience; the Reality which mystics seek to understand is apprehended through their whole being. Reality, although indescribable, is expressed by symbols. A hymn in the Rigveda reminds that: 'They call Him Indra, Mitra, Varuna, Agni, and even the fleet-winged celestial bird Garuda. The One Reality, the learned speak of in many ways./2
From time immemorial, the concern of the religious mystic had been the quest for Reality, but all genuine mystics found their experiences inexpressible and indescribable. The following parable34, indicating how a man can only form a partial and distorted view of God, is often repeated by sufis. It is related from the Hadigatu'l-Hagiga by the great sufi poet from Ghazna, Abu'l Majd Majdud Sana'i, who died about 1130-31 :
< 35

'Not far from Ghur once stood a city tall

Whose denizens were sightless one and all.

/1 W.T. Stace, The teachings of the mystics, New York, 1960, pp. 14-5.

/2 Rigveda, I, p. 64.

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A certain Sultan once, when passing nigh,

Had pitched his camp upon the plain hard by,

Wherein, to prove his splendour, rank and state,

Was kept an elephant most huge and great.

Then in the townsmen's minds arose desire

To know the nature of this creature dire.

Blind delegates by blind electorate

Were therefore chosen to investigate

The beast, and each, by feeling trunk or limb,

Strove to acquire an image clear of him.

Thus each conceived a visionary whole,

And to the phantom clung with heart and soul.

When to the city they were come again,

The eager townsmen flocked to them amain.

Each one of them—wrong and misguided all—

Was eager his impressions to recall.

Asked to describe the creature's size and shape,

They spoke, while round about them, all agape,

Stamping impatiently, their comrades swarm

To hear about the monster's shape and form:

Now, for his knowledge each inquiring wight

Must trust to touch, being devoid of sight,

So he who'd only felt the creature's ear,

On being asked, "How doth its heart appear?"

"Mighty and terrible," at once replied,

"Like to a carpet, hard and flat and wide!"

Then he who on its trunk had laid his hand

Broke in: "Nay : nay! I better understand!

'Tis like a water-pipe, I tell you true,

Hollow, yet deadly and destructive too";

While he who'd had but leisure to explore

The sturdy limbs which the great beast upbore,

Exclaimed, "No, no! To all men be it known

'Tis like a column tapered to a cone!"

Each had but known one part, and no man all;

Hence into deadly error each did fall.

No way to know the all man's heart can find:

Can knowledge e'er accompany the blind?

Fancies and phantoms vain as these, alack!

What else can you expect from fool in sack?

Naught of Almighty God can creatures learn,

Nor e'en the wise such mysteries discern." >

/1 Hadigatu'I-Haqiqa, excerpt tr. by E.G. Browne, A literary history of Persia, II, Cambridge, 1964, pp. 319-20.

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Sufism is not, therefore, a rigid system. According to one outstanding sufi, the paths by which its followers seek God : 'are in number as the souls of men.' Asceticism, purification, love and gnosis assist sufis in finding the Universal Self. These are merely the means to an end, and not the end itself.
A modern scholar says: ‘Muhammad Mohammed * 36 was a sufi when on his way to becoming a prophet.’ /1.  Sufis believe that Muhammad was indeed a sufi throughout his whole life, and an early chapter on the divine revelation imparted to him, addressed him this way :

`O thou wrapped in thy raiment!

Keep vigil the night long, save a little -

A half thereof, or abate a little thereof

Or add (a little) thereto - and chant the Qur'an in measure

For We shall charge thee with a word of weight.

Lo! the vigil of the night is (a time) when

impression is more keen and speech more certain.

Lo! thou hast by day a chain of business.

So remember the name of thy Lord and devote

thyself with a complete devotion—

Lord of the East and the West; there is no God

save Him; so choose thou Him alone for thy defender—

And bear with patience what they utter, and

part from them with a fair leave-taking.

Leave Me to deal with the deniers, lords of

ease and comfort (in this life); and do thou

respite them awhile.'/2

Again in another chapter Muhammad is reminded :

'So wait patiently (O Muhammad) for thy Lord's decree, for surely thou art in Our sight ; and hymn the praise of thy Lord when thou uprisest,

And in the night-time also hymn His praise, and at the setting of the stars.’/3

Again Muhammad is also told how rivalry for worldly success impedes a pursuit of the religious life.

/1 D.B. Macdonald, Development of Muslim theology, jurisprudence and constitutional theory, New York, 1903, p. 227.

/2 Qur'an, LXXIII, I-I1, tr., by M.M Pickthall, The meaning of the glorious Koran, NewYork.

3/ Qur'an, LII, 48-9.

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‘Rivalry in worldly increase distracteth you

Until ye come to the graves.

Nay, but ye will come to know!

Nay, but ye will come to know!

Nay, would that ye knew (now) with a sure knowledge!

For ye will behold hell-fire.

Aye, ye will behold it with sure vision.

Then, on that day, ye will be asked concerning

pleasure.’ / 1

In September 622, the Prophet migrated from Mecca to Medina plunged himself into organizing his community and into fighting wars against his religious opponents. However, all sources unanimously relate that he himself continued to lead an exceedingly austere and ascetic life. He considered his own pursuit of faqr, that is, a life of poverty and resignation to God's will, a source of personal pride. Among Muhammad's companions at this time were a number of people who dwelt in the Medina mosque practising poverty and self-mortification. They were called Ahl al-Sulfa or Ashab-i Suffa (The People of the Verandah). Islam made prayers, five times a day, and fasting for the whole of Ramazan, the ninth month of the Islamic calendar, obligatory. However, the Ahl al-Suffa and many other followers of Muhammad, observed incessant prayer and fasting, as did the Prophet himself. The Qur'anic chapter entitled Al-Bara'at (Immunity) or Al-Tauha (Repentance) was revealed in the Ninth Hijri or 630 AD. and contained a declaration of immunity from obligations for the idolatrous tribes which had repeatedly violated their treaties. Moreover, it drew attention to the duties of Muslims to avoid hoarding wealth.

'Oh ye who believe! Lo ! many of the (Jewish) rabbis and the (Christian) monks devour the wealth of mankind wantonly and debar (men) from the way of Allah. They who hoard up gold and silver and spend it not in the way of Allah, unto them give tidings (O Muhammad) of a painful doom.

On the day when it will (all) be heated in the fire of hell, and their foreheads and their flanks of their backs will be branded therewith (and it will be said unto them) : Here is that which ye hoarded for yourselves. Now taste of what ye used to hoard.'?/2

The decade following the death of Muhammad on 8 June, 632, saw the Arab town dwellers and Bedouins, whom he had united into one community (umma), become the masters of Syria, Iraq, Iran, Egypt, Tripoli

/1 Qur'an, CII, 1-8. /2 Qur'an, IX, 34-5.

22	 
and parts of the African peninsula. They were now not only exposed to the evils of material prosperity, but to new ideas of the ancient civilized world. These made varying impacts upon the companions of Muhammad. Some amassed immense fortunes. But members of the group known as Ahl al-Suffa and a few others continued to lead lives immersed in poverty and asceticism. Most prominent of these was Abu Zar al-Ghifari (died in 652 or 653). His revolutionary outspokenness led him into court exile during the reign of `Usman (644-56), the third Caliph.
Abu Darda `Uwaymar bin Zaid, one of the Ahl al-Suffa, used to say that ‘one hour of reflection was better than forty nights of prayer, and that one particle of righteousness, combined with godliness and assured faith, was preferable to unlimited ritual observance.’/1.
The reign of the third Caliph saw the beginning of internal tensions ; while `Ali bin Abi Talib's reign in 656-61 was torn with civil wars. `Ali transferred his capital from Medina to Kufa and was there assassinated. Mu`awiyya (661-80), who fought incessantly against `Ali, founded the hereditary Umayyad Caliphate (661-750) with Damascus as its capital, superseding both Medina and Kufa.
The refusal of `Ali's son, Husain, to accept Mu`awiyya's son, Yazid I (680-83), as Caliph involved Husain in a war of self-annihilation: He and his followers, numbering less than a hundred, were forced into battle at Karbala, in Iraq, against a large army led by Yazid's governor there. As a result of this battle, Husain and his followers were massacred on 10 Muharram 61/10 October 680. A party under `Ali had previously emerged believing that their leader's right to succeed Muhammad had been usurped by the first three Caliphs. The death of Husain and the persecution of his successors by the Umayyads made their followers even more determined in their opposition to the Umayyad Caliphs. This group came to be called Shi`as or Shi`is, that is, followers of the House of `Ali. The majority of Muslims who did not question the order of succession of the first four Caliphs became known as Sunnis.
Differences between Sunnis and Shi`is sharpened under the 'Abbasids (750-1258). The latter had replaced the Umayyads on the pretext of restoring the rights of the House of `Ali but in reality they were inveterate enemies of the Shi'is. Both sects developed their own theologies and legal schools. Sunni religious law, Fiqh, was founded by four outstanding jurists, all of whom established independent schools of jurisprudence. The followers of Abu Hanifa who died in 767 are Hanafis and those of Malik bin Anas (d. 795) are called Malikis. Al-Shafi`i who died in 820 founded a Shafi'i school and Ahmad bin Hanbal whose death occurred in 855 was the founder of the Hanbalite school. The ninth century saw the compilation of various collections of traditions of the Prophet Muhammad. Six different works, known as the six canonical books, are the rock on which Sunni traditions, or Hadis, of Muhammad are based.

/1 Margaret Smith, An early mystic of Baghdad, London, 1935, p. 63.

23
The Shi'is do not follow either the four Sunni schools of jurisprudence or the six canonical Hadis books, but the laws and traditions ascribed to their own Imams.
The development of diverse traditions of laws and Hadis by Sunnis and Shi`is in the first three centuries of Islam synchronized with further divisions amongst Sunnis themselves on philosophical questions. The Murjites taught that the judgement of every true believer who committed a grievous sin would be deferred until the Resurrection. Kalam (literally meaning speech, or scholastic theology) is an attempt to answer the question of the relation between divine decrees and human actions. Their earliest manifestations were seen in the Qadariyya and the Jabariyya schools. The Jabariyyas taught that God's immutable and eternal decree left no scope for free will, thus rejecting the absolutism of predestination. The Mu`tazilas followed the Qadariyyas and their adherence to reasoning enabled them to obtain a resounding victory over the dualist Manichaeans and Nestorian Christians. They believed that God was omniscient through His essence, rather than His knowledge. The eternity of God was the unique property of His Own essence and if there existed divine attributes added to God's essence His unity would he impaired. Righteousness was duly rewarded and evil punished; man himself was the author of his action, both good and evil. A man who killed another man by throwing a stone was the cause of the latter's death. S. Pines believes that the Mu'tazilite theory is very different from all Greek atomistic doctrines and sees in it an `undeniable similarity between various important points of the Kalam doctrine and the Indian (Nyaya-Vaisheshika and Buddhist) atomistic doctrines.’ /1
Under the Umayyads the development of the Mu`tazilite was slow, but their greatest supporter was the 'Abbasid Caliph al-Ma'mun. He instituted an inquisitorial tribunal for the trial and conviction of those who denied the Mutazilite dogma of 'the creation (khalq) of the Qur'an' in opposition to the orthodox view that the Qur'an was the identical reproduction of a celestial original.
Abu'l Hasan al-Ash'ari (b. 873-74, d. 935-36) began his career as a Mutazilite. Later he renounced the dogma of his masters and laid the foundations of orthodox Kalam, arguing rationally along the pattern laid down by his former teachers. W.M. Watt explains the differences between the two ways of thinking as follows:
'1. He (al-Ash'ari) held that God had eternal attributes such as knowledge, sight, speech, and that it was by these that he was knowing, seeing, speaking, whereas the Mu`tazila said that God had no attributes distinct from His essence.
2. The Mu`tazila said that Qur'anic expressions such as God's hand and face, must be interpreted to mean 'grace,' `essence' and so on.

/1P.M. Holt et. al., ed, The Cambridge history of Islam, 11, Cambridge, 1970, p. 793.

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Al-Ash`ari, whilst agreeing that nothing corporeal was meant, held that they were real attributes whose precise nature was unknown. He took God's sitting on the throne in a similar way.
3. Against the view of the Mu`tazila that the Qur'an was created, al-Ash`ari maintained that it was God's speech, an eternal attribute, and therefore untreated.
4. In opposition to the view of the Mu`tazila that God could not literally be seen, since that would imply that He is corporeal and limited, al-Ash`ari held that the vision of God in the world to come is a reality, though we cannot understand the manner of it.
5. In contrast to the emphasis of the Mu`tazila on the reality of choice in human activity, al-Ash`ari insisted on God's omnipotence; everything, good and evil, is willed by God, and He creates the acts of men by creating in men the power to do each act. (The doctrine of "acquisition" or kasb which was in later times characteristic of the Ash`ariyya, is commonly attributed to al-Ash`ari himself, but, though he was familiar with the concept, he does not appear to have held the doctrine himself.)
6. While the Mu`tazila with their doctrine of al-manzila bayn al-manzilatayn held that any Muslim guilty of a serious sin was neither believer nor unbeliever, al-Ash`ari insisted that he remained a believer, but was liable to punishment in the Fire.
7. Al-Ash`ari maintained the reality of various eschatological features, the Basin, the Bridge, the Balance and intercession by Muhammad, which were denied or rationally interpreted by the Mu`tazila./1.
Both the Mu`tazila and the Ash`ari depended on Aristotelian logic to counter and discredit the beliefs of their respective opponents. However, the legacy of Near Eastern Hellenism, semi-orientalized by Aramaic and Christian influences, which had survived in Alexandria, Antioch and Gondeshapur, was inherited by the Falasifa or Muslim philosophers. The intellectual mysticism of Plotinus, and the doctrines of Hermetic origin, also made a deep impact upon them. The corpus of Greek literature translated under the `Abbasids solved the difficulties of suitable terminology and went a long way towards producing philosophers such as al-Kindi (d. c. 850), Razi (865-925), Farabi (d. 950) and Ibn Sina or Avicenna (980-1037).
Political expansion, sectarian controversies, theological and philosophical developments, all synchronized with the evolution of sufism. This word was not originally used to describe the movement begun by the companions of the Prophet Muhammad. They were better known by the distinguished title, Sahaba, or companions of the Prophet Muhammad. Their second generation was called Tabi'un, that is, those

/1 Encyclopaedia of Islam (new edition), I, p. 694.

who had seen one or more of the associates of Muhammad, while the third generation was the Taba' Tabi `un, followers of those who had seen one or more of the Tabi `un. They deemed the rule of the first four Caliphs `pious', which merely implied that the political activities of the Umayyads or the `Abbasids were of no concern to them. They had no use for sectarian controversies between the Sunnis and the Shi'is. The first Caliph Abu Bakr (632-34) was a paragon of voluntary poverty to the sufis and taught them to renounce all their material goods for Islam. /1 The patched gown or muragga` of the second Caliph 'Umar (634-44) was a symbol of his self-denial; his life exemplified the fact that spiritualists outwardly were a part of mankind, but inwardly their hearts clung to God, constantly returning to Him. Their worldly activities failed to divert them from God, for the spiritualist never loved the world./2 The life of the third Caliph, `Usman (644-56), was the best of all possible examples in resignation during a crisis./3 But the fourth Caliph, 'Ali (656-61), was regarded by sufis as their Shaikh (leader or teacher) in both the theory and practice of sufism. The former consisted of principles and the latter rested entirely on endurance of affliction. `Ali was a model for sufis 'in respect to the truths of outward expressions and the subtleties of inward meanings, the stripping of one's self of all property either of this world or of the next, and consideration of divine providence.'/4
A contemporary of Muhammad and the Righteous Caliphs was the ascetic Uways al-Qarani37. The Prophet had never met him, but forecast that 'Umar and `Ali would visit him some time. After Muhammad's death, Umar and `Ali sought out Uways in Qaran, an oasis habitation in the Najd desert. They conveyed to him the Prophet's greetings. According to Uways, safety lay in solitude for 'the heart of the solitary one was free from thoughts of others.' /5 Under no circumstances did he wish for anything from men. As long as the devil had captured a man's heart, and sensual passions continued to fill his breast, any thought of the present or future worlds came to him in a way which made him aware of mankind, and he was therefore fettered to it. True isolation was the only means of achieving intimacy with God, and those who managed to attain it were then unaffected by human contact.
Towards the end of his life, Uways left his lonely desert life and went to Kufa. He was involved in the battle of Siffin, between June and July 657, fighting for `Ali against Mu'awiyya, where he became a casualty. From the eleventh century onwards, sufis who did not obtain initiation from a particular preceptor called themselves Uwaysis.
After `Ali's martyrdom, his son Hasan (b. 624-25) abdicated as Caliph and retired to Medina where he was poisoned in 669-70. Hasan was long remembered by sufis for his utter lack of concern for adulation or criticism

/l 'Ali bin 'Usman al-Jullabi al-Hujwiri, The Kashf al-Malzjuh, tr. by R.A. Nicholson, London, 1936, pp. 70-1.

/2ibid, p. 72. /3ibid, pp. 73-4. /4ibid, p. 74. /5ibid.

26	 
and when abused would listen politely. He believed strongly in the adoption of the middle course, that is, between free-will and predestination. To mystics Hasan's brother Husain had sacrificed his life for God. Following the example of Husain's son, Zayn al-`Abidin (d. 712), sufis became dedicated to long hours spent in prayer and they considered his prayer books the epitome of devotional literature. In the spirit of his father, Zayn al-`Abidín's son, al-Baqir (d. 731), would cry 

O my God and my Lord, night has come, and the power of monarchs has ceased, and the stars are shining in the sky, and all mankind are asleep and silent, and the Banu Umayya (the Umayyads) have gone to rest and shut their doors and set guards to watch over them; and those who desired anything from them have forgotten their business. Thou, O God, art the Living, the Lasting, the Seeing, the Knowing. Sleep and slumber cannot overtake Thee. He who does not acknowledge that Thou art such as I have described is unworthy of Thy bounty. O Thou whom nothing withholds from any other thing, whose eternity is not impaired by Day and Night, whose doors of Mercy are open to all who call upon Thee, and whose entire treasures are lavished on those who praise Thee : Thou dost never turn away the beggar, and no creature in earth or heaven can prevent the true believer who implores Thee from gaining access to Thy court. O Lord, when I remember death and the grave and the reckoning, how can I take joy in this world? Therefore, since I acknowledge Thee to be One, I beseech Thee to give me peace in the hour of death, without torment, and pleasure in the hour of reckoning, without punish-ment./1 ³⁸

The greatest scholar among `Ali's descendants was Ja`far al-Sadiq (born 699-700 or 702-03). The Shi'is regard only those Ahadis (the plural of Hadis) which Ja`far transmitted as authentic. However, the Sunnis also regard Ja`far as an authority on all problems of Fiqh. Abu Hanifa, Malik bin Anas and the founder of Mu`tazalite Kalam, Wasil bin 'Ata, heard the traditions of the Prophet Muhammad from Ja`far directly. Jabir bin Hayyan, the founder of Arabic alchemy, was one of Ja`far's disciples. Sufis found his writings a most valuable guide. One of his popular sayings was: `Whoever knows God turns his back on everything else.'  Ja`far was killed in 765. With his death Medina began to lose its importance as the guiding light behind developments in the esoteric doctrines of Islam. The growth of the four schools of Sunni jurisprudence, and the crystallization of the Shi'i school, based on the teachings of Imam Ja`far al-Sadiq's, the Ja`fariyya or Imamiyya school of law, forced sufis to become dependant on the Sunni school of jurisprudence for rules

/1 ''Ali bin 'Unman al-Jullabi al-IIujH iri, The Kash'. al-Aft:Nub, tr. by R.A. Nicholson, London, 1936, p. 78.

27
regarding external prayers and religious worship. Of course, in reality the sufi system itself transcended such legal differences.
Medina and Mecca remained the two holy places of Islam. Immigrants from other parts of the Islamic world also increased their importance. However in the first century of Islam many new centres of Muslim culture came into existence. Two such places were Basra and Kufa.
The first, in Lower-Mesopotamia, on the Shatt al-Arab estuary was founded by the Arabs in 638, on the site of the Iranian settlement known as Vahishtabaz Ardasher. In the beginning it was a military camp controlling the route from the Persian Gulf, Iraq and Iran, but soon it developed into an important cultural centre of classical Islamic civilization. Basra's pride was Hasan al-Basri (642-728). Born in Medina into the Tabi `un class, after the attic of Siffin he settled in Basra. Hasan Basri was too young to become the disciple of `Ali bin Abi Talib (656-61), yet the sufi orders trace their spiritual descent through him from Muhammad and `Ali. Anecdotes describing Hasan's conversion to sufism present him as reasonably mature at the time, and as a jewel merchant trading with Byzantium. Hasan's discipleship with `Ali and his conversion by him, would appear to be pious myths composed by later writers. Both medieval and modern scholars have challenged their authenticity. According to the sufi tradition, however, Hasan became 'Ali's disciple through some indescribable spiritual experience.
What is more precisely known is that Hasan-al-Basri was both an outstanding scholar and an eloquent speaker. The Tafsir, an exegesis on the Qur'an, said to have been compiled by him did not survive. Only fragments of his sermons and risalas or epistles to the Umayyad Caliphs, 'Abdul Malik (685-705) and 'Umar II (717-20), remain, as well as some other excerpts from his writings.
Hasan's bold criticism of the repressive religio-political policies of Hajjaj bin Yusuf, the Umayyad governor of Iraq, compelled him to go into hiding in 705, where he was forced to remain until Hajjaj's death in 714. However, in general Hasan did not approve of rebellion against, or the removal of, vicious governors. He pleaded that ‘violent actions of tyrants were a punishment sent by God which could not be opposed by the sword but must be endured with patience.’ Hasan condemned the possession of riches and of all worldly attachments. According to him, muna/igs µ(hypocrites) subject to the values of world were sinners without any concern for their faith. Sinners were fully responsible for their actions, Hasan believed. His letter to Caliph 'Abdul Malik indicates that he was a Qadariyya. Preaching asceticism in his sermons, he succinctly expressed his ideas this way : 'Make this world into a bridge over which you cross but on which you do not build! and 'Repolish these hearts (the seats of religious feeling), for they very quickly grow rusty,/1 and in this verse :

/1 Encyclopaedia of Islam (new edition), III, p. 374.

28	

'Not he who dies and is at rest is dead,

He only is dead who is dead while yet alive.’/1

The following conversation was recorded in the Kashf al-Mahjub 39 between a Bedouin and Hasan on the idea of sabr (patience). This, too, reveals Hasan's deep asceticism. Hasan remarked:
"Patience is of two sorts: firstly, patience in misfortune and affliction; and secondly, patience to refrain from the things which God has commanded us to renounce and has forbidden us to pursue." The Bedouin said: "Thou art an ascetic; I never saw anyone more ascetic than thou art." "O Bedouin !", cried Hasan, "my asceticism is nothing but desire, and my patience is nothing but lack of fortitude." The Bedouin begged him to explain this saying, "for (he said) Thou hast shaken my belief." Hasan replied: "My patience is misfortune and my submission proclaims my fear of Hell-fire, and this is lack of fortitude (jaza); and my asceticism in this world is desire for the next world, and this is the quintessence of desire. How excellent is he who takes no thought of his own interest ! so his patience is for God's sake, not for the saving of himself from Hell ; and his asceticism is for God's sake, not for the purpose of bringing himself into Paradise. This is the mark of true sincerity." And it is related that he said : "Association with the wicked produces suspicion of the good."/2
By Hasan's time the wearing of wool (suf) had become fashionable among Muslim ascetics but Hasan Basri reminded them : 'He who wears wool out of humility towards God increases the illumination of his insight and his heart, but he who wears it out of pride and arrogance will be thrust down to Hell with the devils.' /3
The wearing of wool was, according to sufis, a legacy of the prophets and the Christian apostles and ascetics. A modern Irani scholar rightly points, out that the word, sufi, for a wearer of a woollen garment is incorrect from the point of view of Arabic grammar. The word was invented by some Irani on the pattern of the grammar of his own language and assimilated into Arabic./4
The impact of Hasan's teaching, both in relation to intellectual and spiritual movements, was far-reaching. Wasil bin 'Ata', the founder of the Mu`tazila movement, was his disciple. Abu Talib Makki, the author of Qut al-Qulub, an early work on sufism in Arabic, considered Hasan an Imam, or leader, in sufi doctrines, and that all mystics walked in his

/1 An early mystic of Baghdad, p. 69.

/2 Nicholson, p. 86.

/3 An early mystic of Baghdad, pp. 68-9.

/4 Jalalu'd-Din Huma'i, Misbahu'l-Hidaya, Tehran, nd (2nd edition), pp. 81-2. Huma'i discusses in detail the source of the word 'sufi' in the introduction to his book ; see, pp. 63-85.

29
footsteps, drawing their inspiration from him./1 'Ali and Hasan Basri fulfilled the same role for members of the Futuwwa orders. These were chivalric groups who fought against injustice and its source wherever it was found. From the time of the eighth century, both movements, the Futuwwa and the sufi, drew closer together in mutual assistance and respect./2
Of the many spiritualists gathered around Hasan Basri, the most gifted was Habib ibn Muhammad, an Iranian or 'Ajmi, who had settled at Basra. Prior to being Hasan's disciple, Habib had been a usurer, known for his evil habits. The preceptor and his disciple became so close that they even shared the same cell for a period after the former had sheltered with Habib while hiding from the governor of Iraq. The following passage from Hujwiri's Kashf al-Mahjub, relates the significance of sincerity and devotion in prayers, rather than language and form :

'One evening Hasan of Basra passed by the door of his cell. Habib had uttered the call to prayer and was standing, engaged in devotion. Hasan came in, but would not pray under his leadership, because Habib was unable to speak Arabic fluently or recite the Qur'an correctly. The same night, Hasan dreamed that he saw God and said to Him : "O Lord, wherein does Thy good pleasure consist?" and that God answered : "O Hasan, you found My good pleasure, but did not know its value : if. . . you had said your prayers after Habib, and if the rightness of his intention had restrained you from taking offence at his pronunciation, I should have been well pleased with you."/3

Malik bin Dinar (d. c.127/744), another important disciple of Hasan of Basra, had led an evil life before converting to sufism. He emphasized that sincerity bore the same relation to an action as the spirit did to the body; as the body without the spirit was lifeless, so an action without sincerity was also insubstantial.
Humbly Malik declared himself unfit to wear wool because according to him it was the mark of purity (safa). Of knowledge, Malik said:
'When the servant acquires knowledge in order to do good works ... his knowledge increases; but if he acquires it for any other purpose

/1 Qui al-Qulub, Cairo, I, 1310/1891-93. p. 149.

/2 For Hasan Basri's life, see Abu Nu'aim, Hi/yat al-Auliya', Cairo, II, 1932-38, pp. 131-81; Ibn al-Jawzi: al-Hasan al-Basri, Cairo, 1931; al-Yafe`i, Mir at al-fawn, 1, Hyderabad, 133739/1918-20, pp. 229-32; Ibn Hajar, Tâhzib al-Tahzib, 11, Hyderabad, 1325-27/1907-09. pp. 263-70: Nicholson, pp. 86-7; L. Massignon, Essai sur les origines du lexique technique de la mystique musulmane, Paris, 1922, pp. 152-79; H. Ritter, 'Studien zur Geschichte der islamischen Frommigkeit. 1. Hasan el-Basari' in Der Islam, XXI, 1933, pp. 1-83; A.J. Arberry, Muslim saints and mystics, London, 1966, pp. 20-5.

/3 Nicholson, p. 88. For Habib's life see Abu Nu'aim, VI, pp. 149-55; Ibn Hajar, II, p. 189; Arberry, pp. 32-8.

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than to do good, he increases in wickedness and arrogance and contempt for the common folk.' /1
Basra sufism would never have reached the heights it did without the female saint, Rabi'a bint Ismail al-`Adwiya. Born into poverty, after the death of her parents Rabi`a was sold into slavery as a child, having been seized by a man in the street and sold for six dirhams./2 Her boundless love of, and devotion to God and her numerous, highly intense ecstatic experiences made her one of the greatest of all Islamic mystics. The date of her birth is unknown, but she appears to have died in 135/752 or 185/ 801. The sufi poet Faridu'd-Din `Attar (d. c.1220) apparently gained access to a lost work on Rabi`a. This not only enabled him to write a detailed biography of her but also to formulate several stories on her life, which became the subject of some of his poetical works, such as the Musibat-Nama and the Ilahi-Nama.
Rabi'a attained an exalted spiritual status through prayer and continual fasting. She remained celibate throughout her life. Many hagiologies say that sufis, Hasan Basri, Malik Dinar, Sufyan Sauri and Shaqiq Balkhi visited her frequently in her lonely hermitage and also at times when she withdrew to the wilderness. In the mountains, deer, mountain goats, ibexes and asses would surround her, and then flee at the sight of others, including sufis. A broken pitcher, out of which she drank and made ritual ablutions, an old reed mat, and a brick which she occasionally used as a pillow, were her only belongings. Rabi`a lived the life of a hermit. Ever since she had known God, she once said, she had turned her back on His creatures; she felt ashamed to ask for anything from the world's Creator, let alone human beings. On one occasion Rabi'a was taunted by some men that no woman had ever been a prophet. They were greeted with the retort that egoism and self worship had also been characteristics of men, and that at least no woman had ever been a hermaphrodite.
Neither the desire for paradise nor the fear of hell should be the incentive for prayers or love of God. Here below Rabi`a distinguishes between a selfish and disinterested love of God :

'In two ways have I loved Thee: selfishly,

And with a love that worthy is of Thee.

In selfish love my joy in Thee I find,

While to all else, and others, I am blind.

But in that love which seeks Thee worthily,

The veil is raised that I may look on Thee.

Yet is the praise in that or this not mine,

In this and that the praise is wholly Thine./3

/1 An early mystic of Baghdad, pp. 69-70. For Malik's life, see Abu Nu`aim, 11, pp. 357-89; al-Yafe`i,1, pp. 269-70; Ibn Hajar, X, pp. 14-5; Nicholson, pp. 89-90; Arberry, pp. 26-31.

/2 A coin worth less than a penny.

/3 Margaret Smith, Rabi'a, the mystic, Cambridge, 1925, p. 104.

This prayer epitomized Rabi'a's unique understanding of divine love. Her conception and expression of this idea is regarded as an important milestone in the development of sufism, just as the acceptance of an unselfish love of God became a crucial part of the journey of the individual sufi. Rabi'a's prayers included the following:

`O God, if I worship Thee for fear of Hell, burn me in Hell, and if I worship Thee in hope of Paradise, exclude me from Paradise; but if I worship Thee for Thy `own sake, grudge me not Thy everlasting beauty.

O God, my whole occupation and all my desire in this world, of all worldly things, is to remember Thee, and in the world to come, of all things of the world to come, is to meet Thee. This is on my side, as I have stated; now do Thou whatsoever Thou wilt.» /1.

Like Basra, Kufa originally was an Arab military cantonment in Iraq which had been founded immediately after the conquest of Mesopotamia. This was at the same time Basra was being constructed that is about 17/638. In Kufa lived Abu Hashim, the first spiritualist to be known as a sufi. He urged that inner transformation should be the goal of all mystics. Before his death at the end of the eighth century, a khanqah (sufi monastry) was founded in Ramla, near Jerusalem, by a Christian dignitary./2
Perhaps the greatest admirer of Abu Hashim was his fellow countryman, Sufyan Sawri. It was through the ideas of Abu Hashim, Sufyan believed, that sufis were able to experience the true essence of their discipline. Many of Hashim's sayings tend to indicate that he considered pride and vanity the greatest of all obstacles towards following the sufi path. ‘It is far easier to dig a mountain with a needle than to cleanse the heart of arrogance and vanity’, Abu Hashim is believed to have remarked. Another occasion, after a qazi emerged from the house, of a vizier he said tearfully : 'May God protect people from knowledge which does not benefit anyone else./3
Abu `Abdu'llah Sufyan ibn Said al Sawri, another leading sufi of that period, was born at Kufa in 97/715-16. Although he acquired a good knowledge of Hadis and law, he chose to become an ascetic. As he did openly disapprove of the political situation in Kufa at the time, he was forced to escape to Mecca in 158/774-75 and like Hasan of Basra before

/1 Arberry, p. 51.

/2 The story goes that the Christian dignitary encountered two dervishes who amicably chatted together, shared their food and then went their separate ways although they had never seen each other before. Impressed by the warmth between them the Christian later learned that there was no resting place for such dervishes so he built a khangah for them. `Abdu'llah Ansari, Tabaqat al-Sufiyya, Kabul, 1962, pp. 9-10.

/3'Abdu'r Rahman Jami, Nafahatu'l-Uns, Tehran, 1337/1918-19, pp. 31-32.

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him was obliged to hide from the state persecution. Later Sufyan left for Basra where he died in 161/777-78. As well as being a sufi, Sufyan had been a jurist, and a school of jurisprudence which he founded survived for about two centuries.
Sufyan's compassion encompassed the animal as well as the human world. Rather than eating bread himself he would give it to a dog, explaining:

'If I give bread to the dog... he keeps watch over me all through the night so that I can pray. If I give it to my wife and child, they hold me back from my devotions.’/1.

Once, deeply moved by the pitiful cries of a caged bird awaiting sale in a bazaar, Sufyan bought it only to set it free. The bird, however, refused to leave him and became his lifelong companion, watching while he prayed during the night. After Sufyan's death, the bird suicided by dashing itself on the ground near its liberator's grave. A voice from the tomb was heard to say that God the Most High had forgiven the sufi because of his compassion for the creatures which were His./2
Mecca, Medina, Basra and Kufa were undoubtedly the earliest centres of Islam's contemplative and ascetic life. This does not mean that sufism developed in isolation and other mystic ideas and ascetic practices had no impact at all. The deep Christian influence in the early development of sufism is undeniable; Jesus was a model of self-denial and of the saintly life. That sufis tended to see Jesus in the light of their own traditions does not lessen the significance of the impact of the Nestorian and Jacobite churches on the movement.
The second two important regions where sufism blossomed were Iran and Khurasan. These countries had been conquered in the first century after the birth of Islam and a large number of their inhabitants embraced the new religion for varying reasons. However the difficulties of communication failed to place remote regions of Iran and Khurasan in the orbit of either of the distant rival Islamic capitals of the Umayyads in Damascus or the 'Abbasids in Baghdad. Azarbaijan, Gilan, Tabaristan and Gorgan remained centres for a number of new religio-political movements, as did Khurasan, a land of indefinite boundaries. By 1000 All, when the celebrated Irani scholar, Abu'l-Rayhan Muhammad bin Ahmad al-Biruni (b. 973, died after 1050) wrote his monumental study of comparative religion, Al-Asar al-Bagiyya `an it Qurun al-Khaliyya, Buddhism had died out in the Khurasan region and only a mere handful

/1 Arberry, p. 131.

/2 For Sufyan's life see Abu Nu'aim, VI, p. 356 to VII, p. 143: AI-Khatib, Tarikh Baghdad, IX, Cairo, 1931, pp. 151-74; Ihn Khallikan, Walayat al-A".van, 11, no. 252. Cairo, 1948: Al-Yafe'i, 1, pp. 345-47; al-Zahabi, Ta_kirat al-Hu/Th_, 1, Hyderabad, 1914-15, pp. 190-93; Ibn Hajar, IV, pp. 111-15: Arberry, pp. 129-32.µ

33
of Buddhist monuments remained between Khurasan and India. However, during the eighth and tenth centuries some Buddhist works were still available in this region. Abu'l-Abbas Iran Shahri, one of al-Biruni's authorities, drew on a treatise of Buddhism written by an author called Zurkan. Aspects of Hinduism were also studied in Khurasan and Iran. Judaism, Christianity and the Zoroastrianism of the Magi priesthood were also practised throughout these areas. The most interesting was the eclectic religion, Manichaeism, which had deeply penetrated Khurasan and survived as far as eastern and northern India.
The transformation of these above-mentioned areas into strongholds of sufism did not occur in isolation. Early sufi movements often contained converts from other religious communities, such as those of Zoroastrianism, Christianity, Judaism and so on. These members often imbued sufism with their ancestral philosophies. In order to better understand sufi developments from the eighth to the end of the tenth centuries AD our study has been divided into four regions: 1. Khurasan and Transoxiana; 2. Other parts of Iran; 3. Syria and Egypt; and 4. Baghdad.

Khurasan and Transoxiana

Khurasan, 'the Eastern Land,' in ancient Iran, included all the Arab provinces from Bastam to the Indian mountains and the country of the upper Oxus towards the Pamir. In this region Balkh, the ancient Bactria of the Achaemenid empire, was very important. Before Arab conquests, it was famous for its Zoroastrian temples, but the city's pride was the Buddhist cloister, the Nawbahar. This was raided by Arabs in 653 and conquered in 663-64. Firm Muslim control was established only after the conquests of Qutayba bin Muslim in 715. In 736 Khurasan's capital was transferred from Marw to Balkh.
The earliest known sufi of Balkh was Ibrahim bin Adham40. According to sufi legends he was a prince who renounced his throne to lead the life of an ascetic. Al-Kalabazi relates that : ' ... he (Ibrahim) went out to hunt for pleasure, and a voice called him, saying: "Not for this was thou created, and not to this was thou commanded." Twice the voice called him; and on the third occasion the call carne from the pommel of his saddle. Then he said: "I will not disobey God henceforth, so long as my Lord protects me from sin."/1 When translated from Arabic to Persian and from Persian to Malay and Javanese, the legend of Ibrahim became increasingly fanciful. Goldziher was the first scholar to point out the similarity of this story with the Buddha's conversion, however, such an interpretation has been questioned by Louis Massignon./2 The circumstances of Ibrahim's conversion are indeed different to the Buddha's; the former renounced the world on the impetus of what he believed to be a

/1 A.J. Arberry, The doctrine of the Sufis, Cambridge, 1935, p. 108.

/2 Journal Royal Asiatic Society, 1904, pp. 132-33, L. Massignon, p. 63; Encyclopaedia of Islam (new edition), III, p. 986.

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voice from God, the latter sought enlightenment because of contact with old age, disease and death.
Earlier Arabic sources tend to indicate that Ibrahim was born about 112/730 in the Arab community settlement in Balkh. Some time before 137/754 he migrated from Khurasan to Syria and lived in that region. He died in c. 161/777-78. According to `Attar, he made a pilgrimage to Mecca where he lived for some time. He was married and left a child in Balkh, but advocated celibacy for mystics. A dervish who married, said Ibrahim, could be compared with someone embarking on a sea voyage—when children were born, he drowned./1
Although Ibrahim worked as a labourer, proceeds from his toil were given to the poor, while he himself went hungry. When travelling he would sell whatever he had with him to provide some comfort for his companions. He was sparing in his own consumption of food, but believed that the partaking of nourishment, which was lawfully earned, was more meritorious than prayer and fasting. To Ibrahim the world should be enjoyed by worldly people and the rewards of the Unseen should be reaped by souls which thirsted for it. For himself, he wanted only to remember God, and in the next world, to see Him ./2
Abu ‘Ali Shaqiq bin Ibrahim al-Azali was another great Balkh sufi. He had acquired an advanced religious education and earned his own livelihood. This prompted Shaqiq to adopt asceticism. Another story relating to Shaqiq was that when there was a fearful famine in Balkh, a young slave appeared at the bazaar, joyful and content. When asked why he was happy when so much sadness. abounded, he replied that his own welfare did not concern him for his master was wealthy. Deeply touched by the faith expressed in this story, Shaqiq exclaimed :
‘O Lord God, this youth rejoices so much in having a master who owns a single village, but Thou art the King of kings, and Thou hast promised to give us our daily bread; and nevertheless we have filled our hearts with all this sorrow because we are engrossed with worldly things.’/3
When he became an ascetic, Shaqiq acknowledged this youth as his preceptor, but it was the example of Ibrahim bin Adham which seems to have prompted him to embrace mysticism. As a lecturer, his most significant contribution to sufi philosophy was on the subject of tawakkul, or resignation to the divine will. Through this he attracted many students and Shaqiq appears to have excelled even Ibrahim bin Adham at his

/1 Arberry, pp. 66-70.

/2 For his life see Al-Sulami, Tahagat al-Sufiyya, Leiden, 1960, pp. 13-22; Abu Nu'aim, VII, p. 367 to VIII, p. 58; Qushairi, Al-Risalat al-Qushairiyya, Cairo, 1959, p. 8, µcil-Yafe'i, I, p. 349; Ibn Hajar, I, pp. 102-03; Ibn al-'Imad, 1, pp. 255-56; NU, p. 41-3; Nicholson, pp. 103-05; Arberry, pp. 62-79.

/3 Nicholson, p. 112.

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interpretation of this idea. If one received something from God, he should be thankful, said Shaqiq, if nothing was forthcoming, he should be patient, in the same manner as dogs behave towards their masters. For himself, Shaqiq would distribute anything he received. Renunciation was manifested by the ascetic through action and by the devotee through the tongue. Commenting on the religious people of his time, Shaqiq says:

'When the learned man is covetous ... , whom can the ignorant man imitate? And when the poor man (faqir) is famed for his poverty, and is desirous of this world ... whom can the covetous man find to imitate, in order to escape from his greed? When the shepherd is the wolf, who will care for the sheep?' /1

According to Hujwiri, Shaqiq wrote a number of books on Sufism but none are in existence.
Shaqiq performed a pilgrimage and also visited Baghdad. The following conversation between the `Abbasid Caliph, Harun al-Rashid (786-809), and Shaqiq is a very significant exposition of the sufi expectation of a ruler :

"Are you Shaqiq the Ascetic?" Harun demanded when he came into his presence.

"I am Shaqiq," he replied, "but not the Ascetic."

"Counsel me," Harun commanded.

... Shaqiq proceeded. "Almighty God has set you in the place of Abu Bakr the Trusty, and requires trustiness from you as from him. He has set you in the place of 'Umar the Discriminator, and requires from you as from him discrimination between truth and falsehood. He has set you in the place of `Usman of the Two Lights, and requires from you as from him modesty and nobility. He has set you in the place of `Ali the Well-Approved, and requires from you as from him knowledge and justice ... "God has a lodging place called Hell," Shaqiq said, "He has appointed you its doorkeeper, and has equipped you with three things—wealth, sword and whip. "With these three things," He commands, "keep the people away from Hell. If any man comes to you in need, do not grudge him money. If any man opposes God's commandment, school him with this whip. If any man slays another, lawfully exact retaliation on him with this sword." If you do not these things, you will be the leader of those that enter Hell !" ... "You are the fountain, and your agents are the rivulets," said Shaqiq. "If the fountain is bright, it is not impaired by the darkness of the rivulets. But if the fountain is dark, what hope is there that the rivulets will be bright?"

/1 An early mystic of Baghdad p. 75.

36	 

" ... Suppose you are thirsting in the desert, so that you are about to perish," Shaqiq went on. "If in that moment you come upon a draught of water, how much will you be willing to give for it?" "As much as the man demands," said Harun.

"And if he will not sell save for half your kingdom ?"

"I would give that," Harun replied.

"And suppose you drink the water and then it will not come out of you, so that you are in danger of perishing," Shaqiq pursued. "Then someone tells you, `I will cure you, but I demand half your kingdom.' What would you do?"

"I would give it," Harun replied.

"Then why do you vaunt yourself of a kingdom," said Shaqiq, "the value of which is one draught of water which you drink, and then it comes out of you?"

Harun wept, and sent Shaqiq away with all honour.' /1

After Shaqiq's death as a martyr fighting in the holy wars/2 (jihad) in 194/810 between the Muslims and the heathen Turks, Abu `Abdu'r-Rahman Hatim bin Unwan al-Asamm (the Deaf) followed in the footsteps of his preceptor, Shaqiq, on the path of asceticism and was the author of a number of works on ethics. He believed :

'Lust is of three kinds—lust in eating, lust in speaking, and lust in looking. Guard thy food by trust in God, thy tongue by telling the truth, and thine eye by taking example (`ibrat). Real trust in God proceeds from right knowledge, for those who know Him aright have confidence that He will give them their daily bread, and they speak and look with right knowledge, so that their food and drink is only love, and their speech is only ecstasy, and their looking is only contemplation. Accordingly, when they know aright they eat what is lawful, and when they speak aright they utter praise (of God), and when they look aright they behold Him, because no food is lawful except what He has given and permits to be eaten, and no praise is rightly offered to anyone in the eighteen thousand worlds except to Him, and it is not allowable to look on anything in the universe except His beauty and majesty. It is not lust when thou receivest food from Him and eatest by His leave, or when thou speakest of Him by His leave, or when thou seest His actions by His leave. On the other hand, it is lust when of thy own will thou eatest even lawful food, or of thy own will thou speakest even praise of Him, or of thy own will thou lookest even for the purpose of seeking guidance.'/3

/l Arberry, pp. 136-37.

/2-For Shaqiq's life see Sulami, pp. 54-9; Qushairi, p. 14; Yafe'i, I, p. 495; Ibn al-'Imad, 1, p. 341; Nicholson, pp. 111-12; Arberry, pp. 133-37.

/3 Nicholson, p. 115.

37
Hatim al-Asamm visited Baghdad and died at Washjard near Tirmiz in 237/851-52.
Abu Hamid Ahmad ibn Khazruya, also from Balkh, was one of its leading citizens. Married to the daughter of the local governor, after adopting the career of a sufi he became associated with Hatim al-Asamm and Abu Yazid of Bastam. Abu Hamid Ahmad was a strong believer in repression of carnal desires. To remain a stranger to the people of the town he wore the clothes of a soldier. This following quotation from the Kashf al-Mahjub is from amongst Ahmad's more important sayings:

'The way is manifest and the truth is clear, and the shepherd has uttered his call ; after this if anyone loses himself, is it through his own blindness, that is, it is wrong to seek the way, since the way to God is like the blazing sun ; do thou seek thyself, for when thou hast found thyself thou art come to thy journey's end, inasmuch as God is too manifest to admit of His being sought." '/2

Abu Hamid Ahmad died in 240/854 at the age of ninety-five./3

The early trends of sufism in Balkh synchronized with spectacular developments in Marw. Among sufi luminaries in that region none could excel Abu `Ali Fuzayl ibn Iyaz al-Talgani. Born in Samarqand, in his youth he had been neither a scholar nor a wealthy merchant, but a brigand operating between Marw and Abiward. However, Fuzayl was a gallant and discriminating bandit, he robbed neither women nor the poor. The story of his conversion depicts it as sudden, dramatic and is perhaps apocryphal. A pious merchant was travelling in Marw region accompanied, not in the traditional manner by a hired, protective escort, but by a professional reader of the Qur'an. As the caravan reached Fuzayl's ambush, the reader was loudly reciting the following verse :

'Is not the time yet come unto those who believe, that their hearts should humbly submit to the admonition of God?'/4

This apparently moved Fuzayl to abandon his former life and reimburse his previous victims. Initially, he went to Kufa where he studied Hadis and became a disciple of Sufyan al-Sawri. Ultimately he settled in Mecca, spending all his time in prayer and fasting. It was with great reluctance that he allowed Harun al-Rashid, the Caliph, to visit him. When he finally came, Fuzayl urged him to rule with justice and reminded him that on the Resurrection Day God would question him concerning every single Muslim under his protection, and would exact justice for each of

/1 For his life see Sulami, pp. 80-7; Abu Nu'aim, VIII, pp. 73-84; Qushairi. p. 17; Ibn al-Imad, II, pp. 87-8; Nicholson, p. 1 15 ; Arberry, pp. 150-52.

/2 Nicholson, p. 121.

/3 For notes on his biography see Sulami, pp. 93-7; Abu Nu'aim, X, pp. 42-3; Qushairi, p. 17; Nicholson, pp. 119-21; Arberry, pp. 173-78.

/4 Qur'an, LVI, 16.

38	 
them. If one night an old woman had gone to sleep in her house without provisions of any kind, at the Last Judgement she would pluck the Caliph's gown and give evidence against him.' Fuzayl died in Mecca /2 in 187/803.
Among Marw's other leading sufi saints, was Abu `Abd u'r Rahman 'Abdu'llah ibn al-Mubarak al-Hanzali. Born in 118/736---37 of a Turkic father and an Iranian mother, al-Hanzali became a very rich merchant, but he also studied under many teachers in Marw and elsewhere. One story about him is as follows:

'He was in love with a girl, and one night in winter he stationed himself at the foot of the wall of her house, while she came on to the roof, and they both stayed gazing at each other until daybreak. When `Abdu'llah heard the call to morning prayers he thought it was time for evening prayers; and only when the sun began to shine did he discover that he had spent the whole night in rapturous contemplation of his beloved. He took warning by this, and said to himself: "Shame on thee ... Dost thou stand on foot all night for thine own pleasure, and yet become furious when the Imam reads a long chapter of the Qur'an?" /3

Al-Hanzali built two hospices (ribats) at Marw, one for trad i t i o n i st s and the other for jurisprudents. In alternate years he would perform a hajj, and go to war, and during the third year, he would engage in commerce, distributing his profits to the poor. A conversation between al-Hanzali and a Christian monk tells something of sufi discipline:

'I saw a Christian monk (rahib), who was emaciated by sell-mortification and bent double by fear of God. I asked him to tell me the way to God. He answered, "If you knew God, you would know the way to Him." Then he said, "I worship Him although I do not know him whereas you disobey Him although you know Him," that is, "knowledge entails fear, yet I see that you are confident ; and infidelity entails ignorance, yet I feel fear within myself." I laid this to heart, and it restrained me from many ill deeds.'/4

Al-Hanzali died at Hit on the Euphrates in 181/797. Of the several books he wrote, one on asceticism has survived./5
Abu Nasr Bishr ibn al al-Haris al-Hafi was another prominent sufi in

/1 Nicholson, p. 100.

/2 For notes on his biography see Sulami, pp. 7-12; Abu Nu'aim, VIII, pp. 84-139; Qushairi, p. 9; al-Yafe'i, 1, pp. 415 17; Ibn Hajar, VIII, pp. 294-97; Nicholson, pp. 97-100; Arberry, pp. 52-61.

/3 Nicholson, p. 96.

/4 ibid, pp. 96-7.

/5 For notes on his biography see A1-Nu'aim, VIII, pp. 162 90, Ibn Hajar, V, pp. 382-87; Ibn al-`Imad, I, pp. 295-97, Nicholson, pp. 95-7; Arberry, pp. 124-28.

39
Marw. In his youth he was an alcoholic. Once while staggering along the road, he picked up a piece of paper on which was written: 'In the name of God, the Merciful, the Compassionate.' Bishr deposited it reverently in his house. The same night God visited him in a dream, extending His approval. This prompted Bishr to turn to asceticism. He became an associate of Fuzayl and a disciple of his own maternal uncle. Bishr's renunciation of the world involved complete destitution and this included walking barefooted. During his lifetime, Bishr reminded all those who wished to be both honoured in this world and exalted in the next to shun three things: asking a boon of anyone, speaking ill of anyone and accepting an invitation for food from anyone. He distinguished three types of. poor:
1. those who neither begged nor accepted anything, yet received everything they asked for from God;
2. those who did not beg but accepted what they were given; and
3. those who held out for as long as they could, but then begged.
Poverty, according to Bishr, was to be borne with patience and charity. The highest spiritual merit was earned by doing service to mankind. He accordingly advised pilgrims to Mecca to give their money to an orphan or to a poor man and thus earn more religious merit and spiritual satisfaction. To him pilgrimage was the jihad of women.
Although Bishr did not himself marry, he never preached against family life./1 Retiring to Baghdad, Bíshr/2 died in 227/841-42.
An indelible mark was left on the people of Marw by Abu'l-'Abbas Qasim bin al-Mandi al-Sayyari. Although he died there in 342/953-54, for centuries his tomb at Marw was visited by devotees. According to him unification with God involved the complete absence of any other thoughts but God. His explanation of the doctrine of jama' (union) and tafriqa (separation) deeply influenced later sufis. According to al-Sayyari: ‘Union is that which He unites by His attributes and separation is that which He separates by His acts.’ This involved a cessation of human effort and an affirmation of the divine will to the exclusion of all personal initiative. Jama` did not involve the mingling (imtizaj) of God with created beings or God-made objects (Ittihad) with His own works or His becoming incarnate (hall) in things./3
Nakhshab, in the province of Sughd, or ancient Sogdiana, between the Oxus and Jaxartes, was the home of the eighth century adventurer known as al-Muganna`, the Veiled Prophet of Khurasan. Moreover, it

/1 Encyclopaedia of Islam (new edition). I, pp. 1244-246.

/2 For notes on his biography see Abu Nu'aim, VIII, pp. 336-60; Qushairi, pp. 11 2; al-Yafe`i, II. pp. 92-4; Ibn Hajar, I, pp. 444-45; Ibn al-'1mad, pp. 60-62; Nicholson, pp. 105-06; Arberry, pp. 80-6.

/3Nicholson, pp. 157-58,251-60.

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was an important centre of sufism. Abu Turab Askar bin al-Husain al-Nasafi of Nakshab was an associate of Hatim-i Asamm. According to him a dervish did not choose his own food or dress, for his nourishment was ecstasy and his clothing was piety. Abu Turabl died in 245/859-60.
Close to Nakhshab was Tirmiz,/2 north of the passage of the Oxus leading from Balkh. Tirmiz was the greatest emporium of goods coming from the north to Khurasan. The most eminent saint of Tirmiz was Abu `Abdu'llah Muhammad ibn `Ali bin al-Husain al-Hakim al-Tirmizi. The impact of Tirmizi own's theories on saints and sainthood which extended from Ghazali of Tus to Ibn al-Arabi of Spain is some indication of the scope of his influence. Tirmizi was the associate of sufis such as Abu Turab Nakhshabi and Ahmad ibn Khazruya, an outstanding scholar of Hadis, Fiqh and Qura'nic exegesis. Among his works the most famous are the Khatm al-Awliya' (Seal of Saints), the Kitab al-Nahj (Book of the Highway), the Nawadir al-Usul (Choice Principles), the Kitab al-Tawhid (Book of the Unification) and the Kitab 'Azab al-Qabr (Book of the Torment of the Grave).
Ibrahim al-Geyoushi, a modern authority on Tirmizi, asserts, that two themes which recur in all Tirmizi's writings are : 'a detailed elucidation of the ways to sainthood, and the description of the struggle between the desire of the carnal soul and the longing of the heart.' `His conception of sainthood and saints, their "degrees" (of rank as well as perfection) which constitute a fully developed hierarchy, their `seal', and their relationship, with the prophets are, as laid down in the Khatm al-Awliya' `The Seal of the Saints' basic for sufi thought.'/3 Thus Tirmizi divides sainthood into two categories : (a) general, as common to and exhibited by all believers; and (b) special, whereby the saints achieve trustworthiness in the eyes of God. The latter category is further divided into two. The Awliya' Haqq-Allah literally (Saints of Duty towards God) are engaged in an unending struggle against the carnal soul until they are illuminated by God's light and receive grace. At the same time they retain this light as a guide along the way, while He absorbs the spirit of closeness in the wider sphere of Tawhid. Those who attain the second stage are known as Wali-Allah (Saints of God). Scrupulous observance of the rules, perseverance and patience in obedience lead to the attainment of the status of Wali-Allah.
In short, purity, goodness, spiritual wealth, strength, and immunity from evil are the sine qua non of this stage. Tirmizi quotes the following Hadis to support his theory :

'The best way for My servant to draw near to Me is through regularity

/1 NU, pp. 51-2; Nicholson, pp. 121-22.

/2 Guy Le Strange, The lands of the eastern Caliphate, London, 1966, pp. 439-43, 469-72. 3M.I. Al-Geyoushi', 'Al-Tirmidhi's theory of Saints and Sainthood, Islamic Quarterly, XV; no. 1, London, January-March, 1971, p. 18.

41

in his religious duties, and continual striving for My proximity by works of supererogation until I grant him My love. When I love him I will be his hearing, his sight, his tongue, his hand, his leg, and his heart. None of these limbs can do anything but by my guidance."

To Tirmizi the highest rungs on the ladder of sainthood are al-budala,/2 al-siddiqin (or al-umana),/3 ai-muhaddasun,/4 and Khatm al-Awliya', in order of increasing precedence. The last rung is for one who was the seal of the saints, just as the Prophet Muhammad was the seal of the prophets. The rightful place of the Khatm al-Awliya' was before God in the Kingdom of Oneness./5 Tirmizi clearly acknowledges the superiority of the prophets over the saints : 'the prophets were saints of God before they became prophets; hence they possess both qualities, prophethood and sainthood. Nobody is their equal.'/6 All eminent saints are conscious of the quality of sainthood inherent in themselves. 'The purified heart of a pious man in which there is no sin, nor aggression, nor ill-will, nor spite,' says Tirmizi `leads to sainthood.' Saints understand both the future and what is hidden from ordinary men, and Tirmizi is inclined to ascribe miraculous powers unreservedly to those who are outstanding. He says :

`It is possible for saints to work miracles. The occurrence of miracles inspires in others the belief in the genuineness of the sainthood. When a miracle becomes manifest it is a sign of true sainthood. The miracle is both the proof of this genuineness and its result, for it is the saint's genuineness that enables him to work miracles.'?

According to Tirmizi the conduct of prophets and saints is immaculate. He sees no reason preventing saints from equalling, and even surpassing the early Caliphs, Abu Bakr and 'Umar. Tirmizi expresses the idea in the following way :

'Who can prevent the mercy of God from prevailing over people even in these modern times? Nobody can check it, for it is continuous. Do they think that there is no siddiq, no mugarrab, no me jtaba, no mustafa nowadays? Is it not known that the Mahdi ⁸ will come

/1 M.I. A1-Geyoushi', 'Al-Tirmidhi's theory of Saints and Sainthood', Islamic Quarterly, XV, no. 1, London, January-March, 1971, p. 21.

/2 They are forty in number and surround the divine throne.

/3 The honest or trusted ones. They have offered their souls to God, and He has rewarded them with His light; they also number forty.

/4 These are the sadat al-awliya', `masters of the saints'.

/5 ibid, pp. 23-5. /6 ibid, p. 26. /7 ibid, p. 33.

/8 Literally, guided or rightly guided, but according to Sunni traditions, he is the leader who is expected to rise before judgement day. Ibn Khaldun gives all the important traditions on the subject and adds: ‘It has been well known (and generally accepted) by all Muslims in every epoch, that at the end of time a man from the family (of the Prophet) will without fail make his appearance, one who will strengthen the religion and make justice triumph. The Muslims will follow him, and he will gain domination over the Muslim realm. He will he called the Mahdi. Following him, the Antichrist will appear, together with all the subsequent signs of the hour (the day of judgement), as established in (the sound tradition of) the Sahib. After (the Mahdi), 'Isa (Jesus) will descend and kill the Antichrist. Or Jesus will descend together with the Mahdi and help him kill (the Antichrist), and have him as the leader in his prayers.' Ibn Khaldun, The Muyaddimah, English translation by F. Rosenthal, New York, 1958, pp. 156-200. For the Mandavi movement in India see S.A.A. Rizvi, Muslim revivalist movements in northern India, pp. 68-134.

42	 

towards the end of the world? Is it not said that the Seal of Saints will also come, and 'will bear witness on the Day of Judgement that all the saints are recipients of the mercy of God?/l

Tirmizi, however, reminds all saints that knowledge of the nature of lordship (rububiyya) depends on possessing the proper principles of servantship (`ubudiyya); ‘Anyone who is ignorant of the nature of servantship ...is yet more ignorant of the nature of lordship...’
Tirmizi's teachings brought him into conflict with the authorities of his own town; he retired to Nishapur where he died some time after /2 285/898.
Nishapur was the leading trade centre of Khurasan and featured a daily traffic of caravans. Sacked by the Ghuzz Turks in the middle of the twelfth century, and again by the Mongols in the middle of the thirteenth, its economic recovery was meteoric.
The struggle between the Shi`is and the Sunnis, particularly the dominant Karrami Sunnis, was an interesting feature of the religious, political and social history of Nishapur. But the most colourful aspects of life in the town were those connected with the sufi movement.
The most outstanding of the early generations of sufis in Nishapur was Abu Hafs 'Amr bin Salama al-Haddad. By profession a blacksmith, he was converted to sufism through an encounter with a Jew. Abu Hafs `Amr visited Baghdad where he is said to have amazed his fellow sufis with his eloquent Arabic. He died in his home town in 265/879. /3
The founder of a unique path in sufism was Abu Salih Hamdun bin Ahmad bin `Umara al-Qassar, also of Nishapur. He was an eminent theologian and jurist. He died in 271/884-85.
The path of Hamdun was that of malamat (blame). He affirmed that malamat was the abandonment of all concern for one's welfare. If the worshipper intentionally abandoned the source or his own well-being and embarked on a path of permanent misfortune, renouncing all pleasure, God's glory might be revealed to him, and the more he became

/1 ‘Al-Tirmidhi's Theory of Saints and Sainthood, p. 37.

/2 For a note on his biography see Sulami. pp. 212-15; Abu Nu'aim, X, pp. 233-35; Qushairi, p. 24; Massignon, pp. 256-64; Nicholson, pp. 141-42, 210-41 ; Arberry, pp. 243-49.

/3 For notes on his biography see Sulami. pp. 105-13; Abu Nu'aim, V. pp. 229-30; Qushairi, p. 18; Nicholson, pp. 123-35; Arberry, pp. 192-98.

43
separated from mankind, the more he was united with God. Blame had a great effect in making love sincere. Hujwiri sums it up like this:

'In true love there is nothing sweeter than blame, because blame of the Beloved makes no impression on the lover's heart: he heeds not what strangers say, for his heart is ever faithful to the object of his love.'

"'Tis sweet to be reviled for passion's sake."/1

Among the sufis of Nishapur Abu ‘Usman Said bin Isma'il al-Hiri also rose to a considerable degree of importance. He originally came from Rayy, and at some time had lived with both Yahya ibn Mu`az al-Razi and Shah Shuja’ of Kirman. Al-Hiri's associations with Yahya perfected in him the ‘station' of hope, those with Shah Shuja’ inculcated in him jealousy, but his discipleship under Abu Hafs' perfected him in affection. He died at Nishapur in 298/910-11. /2
Abu Zakariya' Yahya ibn Mu'az al-Razi whose original home was at Rayy (near Tehran) finally chose Balkh for his activities as a sufi preacher. Having acquired considerable wealth from trading, he wished to return to Rayy. After losing everything in a robbery he settled in Nishapur. He was a poet and is reported to have written many books although none have survived. Yahya died in Nishapur in 258/871-72. /3
Of all the Khurasan sufis, the most well-known is Abu Yazid41 Tayfur ibn `Isa ibn Surushan of Bastam (Bistam), better known as Bayazid. His grandfather had been a Zoroastrian and his father a leading citizen of Bastam. After completing a formal religious education, he took to wandering from country to country while continuing ascetic pursuits such as indulging in continuous vigils and hunger fasts. It is said that he met one hundred and thirteen spiritual teachers during his thirty years of roaming. This would, however, seem to be based on legend, for according to his most authentic biographers, Abu Yazid spent most of his time in Bastam, where he died in 261/874 or 264/877-78. Only for a short period was he forced to hide because of the enmity of orthodox elements in Bastam.
Junaid of Baghdad believed that Abu Yazid ranked greatest among the sufis as did Gabriel amongst the angels.
Abu Yazid himself believed that God had delivered him out of the darkness of the carnal soul and the foulness of a fleshy nature. Bayazid believed that when God perceived that his qualities had been annihilated in His own attributes, He bestowed on him the name of His own presence

/1 Nicholson, pp. 67,125-26; NU, p. 60.

/2 Sulami, pp. 159-65; Abu Nu'aim, X, pp. 244-66; Qushairi, p. 21; Nicholson, pp. 132-33; Arberry, pp. 231-35.

/3 Al-Khatib, XV, pp. 208-12; Abu Nu'aim, X, pp. 51-70; Qushairi, p. 17; Nicholson, pp. 122-23; Arberry, pp. 179-82; Massignon, pp. 238-41.

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and addressed him with His own Selfhood. Singleness became manifest ; duality vanished. Ritter sums up Abu Yizid's teachings as follows :
'Abu Yazid was, in contrast .. with the later sufis Abu Ishaq al-Kaziruni and Abu Said bin Abi'l Khayr, a wholly introvert sufi. He did not exercise, as they did, a social activity (khidmat al fugara'), yet was ready to save humanity, by vicarious suffering, from hell .. . The "numinous" sense is extremely highly developed in him, together with a sense of horror and awe before the Deity, in whose presence he always felt himself an unbeliever, just about to lay aside the girdle of the magians (zunnar). His passionate aspiration is aimed at absolutely freeing himself through systematic work upon himself ("I was the smith of my own self" : haddad nafui), of all obstacles separating him from God (hujub), with the object of "attaining to Him." He describes this process in extremely interesting autobiographical sayings with partly grandiose images. The "world" (dunya), "flight from the world" (zuhd), "worship of God" (`ibadat), miracles (karamat), zikr, even the mystic stages (maqamat) are for him no more than so many barriers holding him from God. When he has finally shed his "I" in fana' "as snakes their skin" and reached the desired stage, his changed self-consciousness is expressed in those famous hybrid utterances (shatahat) which so scandalized and shocked his contemporaries: "Subhani! Ma a `zama sha'ni"—"Glory be to me! How great is My Majesty!"; ‘"Thy obedience to nie is greater than my obedience to Thee"; "I am the throne and the footstool"; "I am the Well-preserved Tablet"; "I saw the Ka`ba walking round me" ; and so on. In meditation he made flights into the supersensible world; these earned him the censure that he claimed to have experienced a mi'raj in the same way as the Prophet. He was in the course of them decorated by God with His Singleness (wandaniyya) and clothed with His `I-ness' (ananiyya), but shrank from showing himself in that state to men; or flew with the wings of everlastingness (daymumiyya) through the air of 'no-quality' (la-kayfiyya) to the ground of eternity (aza/iyya) and saw the tree on 'One-ness' (ahadiyya), to realise that "all that was illusion" or that it "was himself" who was all that, etc. In such utterances he appears to have reached the ultimate problem of all mysticism.’/1
Abu Yazid's theory of fana' or the total destruction of the empirical self in God is not the only point of similarity between his teachings and those of the Upanishads. His advocacy of understanding of the controlled use of breath was also Indian. Some hagiologists suggest that Bayazid learnt the doctrine of fana' from his teacher Abu `Ali Sindi. Among modern scholars Nicholson and R.C. Zaehner support this theory, while

/1 Encyclopaedia of Islam (new edition), I, pp. 162-T-63.

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Arberry rejects it. The latter provides evidence to prove that Sind was a village in Khurasan and not the province of Sind in modern Pakistan. The controversy is insignificant because ancient Indian thought and ideas on mysticism had continually aroused interest in the Khurasanian region and these naturally fused with Bayazid's expression of his own mystical experiences./1

Other parts of Iran

There were other areas of Iran which, like Khurasan and Transoxiana, were also famous for their sufis. We have already mentioned some dervishes from Rayy, who settled in Nishapur. Amongst the Rayy sufis was Abu Ya'qub Yusuf ibn al-Husain who obtained an education in Arabia and Egypt but returned to preach in his home town where he remained until he died in 304/916-17. It seems apparent that the people of Rayy had little interest in esoteric doctrines and Yusuf's lectures generally failed to attract an audience./2
Kirman, in the Fars region, came to be distinguished in the history of sufism because of Abu'l Fawaris Shah ibn Shuja’, said to have been a scion of a princely family. He was the author of several books on sufism, none of which have survived. Hujwiri records an interesting sentence Abu'l Fawaris is reported to have expressed, and makes the following comment :

The eminent have eminence until they see it, and the saints have saintship until they see it," that is, whoever regards his eminence loses its reality, and whoever regards his saintship loses its reality./3

At Shiraz, also in Iran, Abu 'Abdu'llah Muhammad ibn Khafif ibn Isfakshad was born in 270/882. Like Abu'l Fawaris he was of royal blood, but for him the prayer carpet was infinitely preferable to the coronet. Not only was he well connected, but 'Abdu'llah's fame as a mystic made him exceedingly eligible as a marriage prospect to the daughters of kings and nobles. Marriage to him was considered a great prize because of the blessing accruing from it. 'Abdu'llah did not choose one wife but many, and is said to have contracted four hundred marriages. These were not consummated and were generally later annulled. Two or three of his wives, however, would rotate in performing service for their husband, but only one, a vizier's daughter, is recorded as having endeared herself to

/1 Al-Sahlaji, Kitab ai-Nur edited by A. Badawi, Cairo, 1949; Sulami, pp. 60-64; Abu Nu'aim, X, pp. 33-40; Qushairi, p. 14; Nicholson, pp. 106-08, 184-88; Massignon, pp. 24356 ; Arberry, pp. 100-23 ; R.C. Zaehner, Hindu and Muslim mysticism, London. 1960, pp. 93134,198-218 ; A.J. Arberry, Revelation and reason in Islam. London, 1957, pp. 90-103.

/2 Sulami, pp. 175-82: Abu Nu'aim, X, pp. 238-42; al-Khatib, XIV. pp. 314-19; Qushairi, p. 24; Nicholson, p. 136; Arberry, pp. 185-91.

/3 Nicholson, p. 138. For his biography see Sulami. pp. 192-94; Arberry, pp. 183-91.

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`Abdu'llah. She described her relations with the Shaikh as follows:

'When the Shaikh wedded me and I was informed that he would visit me that night, I prepared a fine repast and adorned myself assiduously. As soon as he came and the food was brought in, he called me to him and looked for a while first at me and then at the food. Then he took my hand and drew it into his sleeve. From his breast to his navel there were fifteen knots (`aqd) growing out of his belly. He said, "Ask me what these are," so I asked him and he replied, "They are knots made by the tribulation and anguish of my abstinence in renouncing a face like this and viands like these." He said no more, but departed; and that is all my intimacy with him."' /1

`Abdu'llah made pilgrimages to Mecca at least six times, and visited Egypt and Asia Minor, finally dying at Shiraz in 371/982. He was the author of many books in which he constantly discussed the two doctrines of ghaybat (absence) and huzur (presence).

‘Presence’ is "presence of the heart," as a proof of intuitive faith (yaqin), so that what is hidden from it has the same force as what is visible to it. "Absence" is "absence of the heart from all things except God" to such an extent that it becomes absent from itself and absent even from its absence, so that it no longer regards itself; and the sign of this state is withdrawal from all formal authority (hukm-i rusum), as when a prophet is divinely preserved from what is unlawful. Accordingly, absence from one's self is presence with God, and vice versa./2

From Tustar, or Ahwaz, in Khuzistan rose the celebrated sufi, Abu `Abdu'llah Muhammad Sahl ibn `Abdu'llah al-Tustari. He was born in c.200/815 and studied first with Sufyan al-Sawri and later with Zu'n-Nun Misri. Although a withdrawn ascetic, persecution by the orthodox forced Sahl to take refuge in Basra.
It was in Basra that Sahl formulated his ideas on the course of one concerned with the mystic path. Unlike other sufis who believed that mortification was needed to redress the vices of the lower soul, Sahl saw self-punishment in the positive terms of leading directly to union with God. Orthodox divines accused him of combining the Law (Sharia) and Truth (Hagiga) but to Sahl they were never divided. In this passage from the Kashf al-Mahjub he says:

/1 Nicholson, pp. 248-49.

/2 ibid, p. 248; A.M. Schimmel Tari, Ibn al-Khafrf, Ankara, 1955; Abu Nu'aim, X, pp. 385-87; Qushairi, p. 31; Nicholson, pp. 158, 247-51; Arberry, pp. 257-63.

47

`Inasmuch as God has joined the Law to the Truth, it is impossible that His saints should separate them. If they be separated, one must inevitably be rejected and the other accepted. Rejection of the Law is heresy, and rejection of the Truth is infidelity and polytheism. Any (proper) separation between them is made, not to establish a difference of meaning, but to affirm the Truth, as when it is said: "The words, there is no God save Allah, are Truth, and the words, Muhammad is the Apostle of Allah, are Law." No one can separate the one from the other without impairing his faith, and it is vain to wish to do so. In short, the Law is a branch of the Truth : knowledge of God is Truth, and obedience to His command is Law.' /1

Like Rabi`a, Sahl had a special affinity with animals. According to tradition, wild beasts and lions would come from the forests to his house where he would feed them. Sahl died in Basra in 282/896. /2.

Egypt and Syria

The prominence which Egyptian sufism obtained was due mainly to the contribution of Abu'l-Faiz Sauban ibn Ibrahim al-Misri, or Zu'n-Nun. A native of Ikhmim in Upper Egypt, he was born about 180/796. He made a study of medicine and alchemy and may have been influenced by Hellenistic ideas. Zu'n-Nun travelled extensively in Arabia and Syria. In 214/829 he was accused of heresy, arrested and sent to Baghdad. After examination the Caliph had him released and permitted him to return to Egypt. He died at Jiza in 246/860-61.
The controversy around Zu'n-Nun stemmed from his conception of the mystic states (ahwal) and the stations (maqamat) of the mystic way; he was the first to attempt a detailed explanation of these two ideas. Considering self to be the chief obstacle to all spiritual progress, Zu'n-Nun advocated sincerity in the search for righteousness, and that solitude alone led to success in this quest. He was the first to teach the real nature of gnosis (ma `rifa) and described it as:

` ... knowledge of the attributes of the Unity, and this belongs to the saints, those who contemplate the Face of God within their hearts, so that God reveals Himself to them in a way in which He is not revealed to any others in the world. "The gnostics are not themselves, but in so far as they exist at all they exist in God.⁴²" '

Zu'n-Nun's explanation of gnosis has been interpreted in the following way :

/1 Nicholson, pp. 139-40.

/2 Sulami, pp. 199-205; Abu Nu'aim, pp. 189-212; Qushairi, p. 15; Nicholson, pp. 139-40, 195-210; L. Massignon, pp. 264-70; Arberry, pp. 153-60.

48	 

'The gnostic needs no state, he needs only his Lord in all states. Gnosis he associates with ecstasy (wajd), the bewilderment of discovery. (Zu'n-Nun) used the word hubb for love to God, which means, he says, to love what God loves and to hate what God hates. But the love of God must not exclude love to man, for love to mankind is the foundation of righteousness. He is one of the first to use the imagery of the wine of love and the cup poured out for the lover to drink.'/1

The description of the saints which Zu'n-Nun imparted to the `Abbasid, Caliph Mutawakkil (847-61), is preserved by his admirer al-Muhasibi in the following words :

`... they are those whom God invested with the radiance of His love and adorned with the fair mantle of His grace, upon whose heads He set the crown of His joy, and He put love towards them into the hearts of His creatures. Then He brought them forth, having entrusted to their hearts the treasures of the Invisible, which depend upon union with the Beloved ... He gave them knowledge of the places where the means of healing is to be found ... and to them He gave assurance of an answer to their prayers, and He said: "Oh My saints, if there come to you one sick through separation from Me, heal him, or a fugitive from Me, seek him out ... or afraid of Me, then reassure him ... O My saints, I have reasoned with you, and to you I have addressed Myself, towards you has been My desire and from you have I sought the fulfilment (of my Will), for upon you has My choice been laid, and you have I predestined for My work ... to be Mine elect. Not those who are proud do I seek to be My servants, nor do I desire the service of the covetous. To you have I given the most precious of rewards, the fairest of gifts, the greatest of graces. I am the Searcher of hearts, He Who knows the mysteries of the Invisible ... I am the Goal of your desire, I Who read the secrets of the heart. Let not the voice of any that is mighty, save Myself, make you fear, nor any sovereign by Myself. . . He who has shown you enmity is My enemy, and to him who was friendly towards you have I shewn friendship. Ye are My saints and ye are My beloved. Ye are Mine and I am yours.'/2

Syria was notable not only for its prophets but also for its saints. Abu Sulaiman 'Abdu'r-Rahman bin Atiyya al-Darani, a sufi who remained for some time in Basra, later retired to Daraya, near Damascus, where he

/1 Encyclopaedia of Islam (new edition), II, p. 242.

/2 An early mystic of Baghdad, pp. 81-2; For notes on his biography, see Sulami, pp. 23-32; al-Khatib, VIII, pp. 393-97; Qushairi, p. 9; lbn Asakar, Tarikh Demashq, Damascus, 132932 1911-13. Nicholson, pp. 100-03; Massignon, pp. 184-91; Arberry, pp. 87-99.

	49
died in 215/830. To him, both hope and fear were indispensable to one who sought God. Nothing, either in this world nor the next, was of sufficient importance to keep man from his God. Abu Sulaiman `Abdu'r-Rahman believed :

'When hope predominates over fear, one's "time" is spoilt, because "time » is the preservation of one's state (hal), which is preserved only so long as one is possessed by fear. If, on the other hand, fear predominates over hope, belief in Unity (Tawhid) is lost, inasmuch as excessive fear springs from despair, and despair of God is polytheism (shirk). Accordingly, the maintenance of belief in Unity consists in right hope, and the maintenance of "time" in right fear, and both are maintained when hope and fear are equal. Maintenance of belief in Unity makes one a believer (mu'min), while maintenance of "time" makes one pious (muti). Hope is connected entirely with contemplation (mushahadat), in which is involved a firm conviction (i`tiqad); and fear is connected entirely with purgation (mujahadat), in which is involved an anxious uncertainty (iztirab).' /1

Baghdad

Baghdad, the `Abbasid capital in Iraq, situated on the Khurasan road, was a junction of caravan routes. There foundations of sufism were laid amidst hectic orthodox, intellectual and sectarian developments. From the ninth century onwards translations of Greek, old Persian and Sanskrit literature were accompanied by those of Syriac (ancient Syrian or western Aramaic) works by Christian mystics into Arabic. Of these the most notable was the translation of Mystic Treatises written by Isaac of Nineveh in the seventh century. Syriac works by mystics such as Aphraates, the monk, who lived in Iran during the fourth century, Ephraim, the Syrian, also of the fourth century, Simon of Taibutheh, an East Syrian who died in 680, and Abraham bar Dashandad, an East Syrian, who lived sometime around 720 and 730, were also known to sufis in Baghdad.
It was an Irani, however, who founded the Baghdad school of Islamic mystics. He was Abu Mahfuz Ma'ruf ibn Firuz al-Karkhi. Although Ma`ruf was born of Christian parents, he reportedly embraced Islam through the influence of the eighth Shi`i Imam `Ali al-Riza. This story must be apocryphal for 'Ali al-Riza, who was born in Medina in 148/765, was summoned to Marw by Caliph al-Ma'mun (813-33.) in 201/816 and was killed at Tus, two years later in 818. Long before the arrival of 'Ali al-Riza in Iran, Ma'ruf had settled in Baghdad, where he died in 200/81516. It is unlikely that the latter would have gone to Medina in order to

/1 Nicholson, pp. 112-13; For biographical notes on Abu Sulaiman see Sulami, pp. 68-79; Qushairi, p. 16.

50	 
embrace Islam. According to one source, Ma`ruf completed his education in mystic and ascetic discipline under Abu Sulaiman Dawud ibn Nusair al-Ta'i of Kufa who died between 160/777 and 165/782. During Harun al-Rashid's reign, Ma`ruf lived in the Karkh quarters of Baghdad, hence he was subsequently called Karkhi.
The two elements of Haqq (Truth) and Sidq (Truthfulness) predominate in Ma`ruf's teaching. When asked for his last testament, Ma`ruf said that his shirt might be taken from his back and given in alms so that he could leave the world naked as he had emerged from his mother's womb. After his death, Jews, Christians and Muslims all claimed Ma`ruf as their own, but only Muslims were able to lift his bier from the ground before his burial. The following anecdote also confirms Ma`ruf's religious tolerance:

`It was reported that whenever food was presented to Ma`ruf as a gift he always accepted and ate it. Someone said to him : "Your brother Bishr bin al-Haris always refused such food," and Ma`ruf replied: "Abstaining causes my brother's hands to be tied, whilst Gnosis causes my hands to be stretched forth. I am only a guest in the house of my Lord. . . when He feeds me, I eat; when he does not, I have to be patient. I have neither objection nor choice."' /1

Ma`ruf's pupil, Abu'l-Hasan Sari43 ibn al-Mughallis al-Saqti, rose to be most prominent Baghdadi sufi. Among his main opponents was the celebrated jurist, Ahmad ibn Hanbal (780-855), the founder of the puritanically orthodox Sunni school of jurisprudence, called Hanbali. Originally Sari had been a merchant of spices and seasonings. During his lifetime he witnessed the reigns of several Caliphs and the rise and fall of several significant intellectual and sectarian movements. In 253/867-68 he died at the ripe old age of ninety-eight.
According to the Tabagat al-Sufiyya, Sari was the 'first in Baghdad to teach unification (Tawhid) through the path of mysticism, the first to teach the knowledge of Reality, and he was also the leader of the Baghdadis in the use of symbolic utterances (isharat).' A great teacher, he chose the Socratic method of instruction through the posing of thought-provoking questions. Sari's influence converted the Baghdad school of sufism into a group known as the Masters of Unification (Arbab al-Tawhid). Their theories were based on academic knowledge and their approach to mysticism was intellectual.
Sufism, Sari said, meant to a sufi the following three things :

... that the light of his gnosis did not extinguish the light of his

/1 Quw al-Qulub, IV, p. 61; quoted by A.H. Abdel-Kader, The life, personality and writings of Al-Junayd, London, 1962, p. 15; for biographical details about Ma`ruf see Sulami, pp. 74-9; Abu Nu'aim, VIII, pp. 360-68; Qushairi, p. 10; Nicholson, pp. 113-15; Arberry, pp. 161-65.

51

abstinence (wara’ ), that his inward speculations did not make him opposed to the outward conduct taught by the Qur'an and the Sunna, and that the favours of God bestowed on him did not lead him to tear aside the veil from what God had made unlawful to him./1

Sari also reminded his fellow sufis that the very start of gnosis depended on the withdrawal of the soul that it might be alone with God. Junaid describes one of Sari's dreams in which he saw God speaking to him in these words:

`O Sari, I created mankind, and all of them claimed to love Me. Then I created the world, and nine-tenths of them deserted Me, and there remained one-tenth. Then I created Paradise, and nine-tenths again deserted Me, and one-tenth of the tenth remained with Me. And I imposed upon them one particle of affliction, and nine-tenths of those who were left deserted Me, and I said to those who remained, "Ye did not desire the world, nor seek after Paradise, nor flee from misfortune; what then do ye desire and what is it that ye seek?" They replied, "It is Thou Thyself that we desire, and if Thou dost afflict us, yet will we not abandon our love and devotion to Thee." And I said to them, "I am He who imposes upon you affliction and terrors which even the mountains cannot abide. Will ye have patience for such affliction?" They said, ``Yea, verily, if Thou art the One Who afflicts; do what Thou wilt with us." These are indeed My servants and My true lovers.'/2

Among the associates of Sari and Zu'n-Nun, probably the most talented was Abu Sa`id Ahmad ibn `Isa al-Kharraz of Baghdad. Kharraz was a cobbler by trade. He acquired great fame because of his books, some of which have survived. In his writings he gave a clear and convincing definition of fana' (annihilation or the passing away of human attributes) and baqa' (subsistence or existence in God). Bayazid's statements regarding fana' emanated from a state of mystic intoxication but Kharraz's arguments were made in the most temperate language.
To mystics and spiritualists, fana' meant different things. One view was that of the Nestorians who held that Mary, through self-mortification, annihilated all human qualities. Divine subsistence then became attached to her, so that she existed in God's life, and Jesus was the result of this union44. Originally human elements were not attached to Jesus because his existence arose from an understanding of the subsistence of God. Consequently, Jesus, His mother and God exist through one subsistence, which is both eternal and one of God's attributes. Kharraz,

/1 Qushairi, p. 10; extract translated in An early mystic of Baghdad, p. 39.

/2 An early mystic of Baghdad, p. 40; For biographical details see Sulami, pp. 41-8; Abu Nu'aim, X, pp. 116-26; Qushairi, pp. 10-11; Nicholson, pp. 110-11; Arberry, pp. 166-72.

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however, held that fana' is annihilation of the consciousness of manhood (`ubudiyya), and baqa' (subsistence) is subsistence in the contemplation of God (Ilahiyya). Hujwiri comments :

`In annihilation there is no love or hate, and in subsistence there is no consciousness of union or separation. Some wrongly imagine that annihilation signifies loss of essence and destruction of personality, and that subsistence indicates the subsistence of God in Man ; both these notions are absurd." ⁴⁵

Kharraz's book, the Kitab al-Sidq (Book of Truthfulness) has been published with an English translation by A.J. Arberry. Starting with the idea of Sidq or Truthfulness, Kharraz continues by describing the `stations,' or stages in the sufi path : fear, hope, trust, love, shame, longing, intimacy, all which lead to the goal of unity with God. He concludes:

`Know, then, that those who have attained unto God, and are near to Him, who have in truth tasted the love of God, and obtained their portion from their King, their qualities are : godliness, abstinence, patience, sincerity, truthfulness, trust, confidence, love, yearning, intimacy, all fine characteristics, all the characteristics of theirs which cannot be described, together with that piety and generosity which they have made their abode. All this is with them, dwelling in their natures, hidden in their souls : nothing else find they good, for this is their food and their habitude.'/2

The date of Kharraz's death is uncertain, but it appears to have been sometime between 279/892 and 286/899. /3
Amongst Sari's friends and visitors, another prominent personality was Abu `Abdu'llah al-Haris ibn Asad al-Muhasibi46. Born at Basra in 165/781-82, Muhasibi migrated to Baghdad early in his life. There he managed to acquire a perfect understanding of Hadis and of other theological subjects; he also obtained a good grounding in scholasticism (Kalam) and used the dialectic methods and terminology of the Mu`tazila to refute Mu`tazili doctrines and Shi`i beliefs. His involvement in discussions on matters which were taboo to the orthodox branded him a renegade in their eyes and he became a target of persecution to Ibn Hanbal and his followers. Muhasibi's life became so endangered that he fled to Baghdad. So secretly had his existence been kept that when he died in 243/857 only four people attended the funeral. Although the study of Muhasibi's writings was banned, succeeding generations of

/1 Nicholson, p. 243.

/2 A.J. Arberry, The book of truthfulness, Oxford, 1937, pp. 61-2. [ ]

/3 For biographical details see Sulami, pp. 223-28; Abu Nu'aim, X, pp. 246-49; Qushairi, p. 28; Massignon, pp. 270-73; Nicholson, pp. 143, 241-46; Arberry, pp. 218-20.

53
sufis recognized his deep contribution to their movement, and continued to study his works, most of which have survived. Ghazali was a firm admirer of the ideas of Muhasibi and considered him outstanding for his contribution to the study of human behaviour, in his recognition of both the inherent weakness of the soul and the evil of human action.
As a sufi Muhasibi was given the title al-Muhasibi, because of his practice of frequent self-examination while involved in the recollection of God. According to him strict abstinence (wara’) leading to godliness (taqwa’) was possible only through self examination. Contentment and patience were the significant marks of fine character. Margaret Smith writes :

'By relentless and unceasing self-examination he (Muhasibi) had come to know his own soul and its besetting sins; by self-discipline he had learnt to be master of his soul, to cope with its temptations and to get the better of its tendency to sin, and so, by his own unceasing striving, aided by the grace of God, without which his own efforts would have been in vain, to attain to self-purification and a state in which he had ceased to depend upon himself or the creatures, and had given himself entirely into the hands of God, merging his own personal will in the divine will, becoming empty of self in order that his soul might be open to the revelation and indwelling of God. Through the way of Purgation he had attained to Illumination and thence to the Unitive life, lived with and in God.'/1

Muhasibi advised sufis to approach God in a spirit of shame for their lack of gratitude, concern for their shortcomings, real hope in His mercy and joy at the thought of Him. Everything which was good, either relating to thought or action, emanated from divine grace. Repeatedly he reminded sufis that the heart was the essence of the self, which, like a mirror, served its purpose only when brightly polished. Divine grace was a supernatural light illuminating the heart in the awakened state of the devotee, which was destroyed by neglect. A true ascetic should consider himself a stranger in this world and fight against temptations, avarice, envy, jealousy and backbiting to display religiosity and spiritual superiority. He quoted a phrase attributed to Christ : ‘If one of you fasts, let him anoint his head and comb his hair and put collyrium on his eyes.'/2
Repentance was the first step, believed Muhasibi, towards spiritual progress. This should be accompanied by the seeking of forgiveness for sins and by the atonement of injuries inflicted to others. Personal prayer or munajat, according to Muhasibi, was the finest means to get near to God. He believed :

/1 An early mystic of Baghdad, p. 26.

/2 ibid, p. 135.

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'... approach God with obedient hearts, wherein is knowledge of the greatness of God Most High ... feeling same before Him, and let that which is His due be given unto Him ... and come near to Him with intense love towards Him, loving what He loves and abhorring what He abhors, and come unto Him with a realisation of His good gifts and His grace ... Therefore approach God with fear lest His favours towards you should cease, and with keen shame lest you fall short in gratitude to Him. And draw near to God Most High with deep fear of Him and real hope in Him, and joy in the recollection of Him ... And approach him with assured faith and dependence upon Him, and confidence in Him ... with gravity of µmien, with downcast eyes and humility ... and approach God with the desire to amend your life ... Draw near unto Him, choosing humility rather than exaltation, and preferring hardship for the sake of God rather than an easy life, and poverty to wealth and its acquirement ... And approach Him with the continuous remembrance of death and the resurrection and the bridge of Sirat,' which must be crossed. All these things are to be earnestly desired by all who came before God to make entreaty of Him.'/2

The most brilliant disciple and a close friend of Haris Muhasibi was Sari's nephew, Abu'l-Qasim al Junaid Ibn Muhammad al-Khazzaz al-Nihawandi. Some of Muhasibi’s treatises contain detailed answers to questions Junaid put to his master. Junaid's father was a glass merchant. His son acquired a thorough knowledge of Fiqh and Hadis. (Junaid) refers of himself that when he left his uncle, Sari asked him to whose assembly he would go, and he replied : "To Haris al-Muhasibi." Sari then said : "Yes, go and acquire his doctrine ('ilm) and his method of self-training (adab), but leave his splitting of words in speculation (tashgiq li'l-kalam) and his refutation of the Mu`tazilites alone." "And when I had turned my back," adds Junaid, "I heard Sari say, May God make you a traditionist who is a sufi and not a sufi who is a traditionist"—that is, that knowledge of the traditions and the Sunna should come first, and then by practising asceticism and devotion he might advance in knowledge of sufism and become a sufi gnostic, but that the reverse process of trying to attain to the higher degrees of sufism without being well grounded in orthodox theology was dangerous.'/3 Junaid died in Baghdad in 298/910.
Of Junaid's works only his treatises, his Rasa'il (Epistles) and a series

/1 The bridge across hell, according to the Hadis, is thinner than a hair and sharper than a sword's edge.

/2 An early mystic of Baghdad, pp. 205-06; from Wasaya by Muhasibi. For biographical details see Sulami, pp. 49-53; Abu Nu'aim, X, pp. 73-109; al-Khatib, VIII, pp. 211-16; Qushairi, pp. 12-13; Nicholson, pp. 108-09, 176-83; Massignon, pp. 210-25; Arberry, pp. 143-45.

/3 An early mystic of Baghdad, p. 27, quoted from Al-Makki's Qut al-Qulub, I, p. 158.

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of letters have survived. Together with Muhasibi, Junaid was the founder of the sober (sahw) school of sufism and posterity gave to him such titles of praise as Saiyid al-Ta'ifa (Lord of the Sect), Ta'us al-Fugara' (Peacock of the Dervishes) and Shaikh al-Masha'ikh (Director of the Directors).
Junaid's own mystical awareness and self-concentration enabled him to draw the attention of his fellow sufis to the doctrine of Tawhid or Divine Unification in a most cautious manner. Although he considered Tawhid as utterly inexpressible and indefinable, he explained it by using misaq and fana' as examples. Misaq refers to the following verse in the Qur'an :

'And (remember) when thy Lord brought forth from the Children of Adam, from their reins, their seed, and made them testify of themselves, (saying) : Am I not your Lord? They said : Yea, verily. We testify. (That was) lest ye should say at the Day of Resurrection : Lo ! of this we were unaware.'/1

Junaid interpreted this verse in the light of the Neo-Platonic doctrine of the pre-existence of the soul. Abdel-Kader (Abdul Qadir) says :

'If we try to sum up this theory and to describe this (the) highest state of Unification which the worshipper can attain, we find that the worshipper returns to his primordial state where he has been before he was created. That is, he departs from his worldly existence, his normal human existence does not continue and hence he exists in God and is completely absorbed in Him. It is thus that the muwahhid can attain the real Tawhid. As long as he preserves his individuality he cannot attain this full state of Tawhid, as the continued persistence of his individuality means that something other than God is still present.'/2

So when God creates a human being, His intention is to make him again fully One with Himself. This state explains Junaid's definition of sufism which draws attention to the fact that : `Tasawwuf is that God should make you die from yourself and should make you live in Him. ' The successive steps which lead to Unification involve fana' in the following manner:
1. The obliteration of attributes, characteristics and natural qualities in your motives when you carry out your religious duties, making great efforts and doing the opposite of what you may desire, and compelling yourself to do the things which you do not wish to do.
2. The obliteration of your pursuit after pleasures and even the sensa-

/1 Qur'an, VII, 172.

/2 Personality and writings of al-Junayd, p. 79.

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tion of pleasure in obedience to God's behests—so that you are exclusively His, without any intermediary means of contact.
3. The obliteration of the consciousness of having attained the vision of God at the final stage of ecstasy when God's victory over you is complete. At this stage you are obliterated and have eternal life with God, and you exist only in the existence of God because you have been obliterated. Your physical being continues but your individuality has departed.’/1
Baqa', abiding or continuing in God, is the same state as fana' and the words are interchangeable. There is no implication that the worshipper in this state can become identical with God (ittihad); nor does it imply that by abandoning his own qualities, a soul can become part of God's attributes. Unification means 'the passing away of man's will in God's wíll,' or in other words the loss of human will, which `characterizes the worldly individuality47, being possessed by God and returning into the life of his eternal self in God.' Junaid continues by saying :

'The soul accepts the spiritual burden with its implication of suffering, seeks for its cure, and is preoccupied with that divine revelation vouchsafed to it. Consequently, it is able to look on the remote with the eye of propinquity, to be closer to God because a veil has been removed and it is no longer completely concealed.' `Though the soul has Bala' (suffering), it is not rejected. How can it be hidden from God by a veil when it is, as it were, a captive bound before Him? God has allowed the suppression of the individuality when man has Bala'. The soul no longer arrogates a degree of importance to its individuality but is amply satisfied with God's love and nearness. "Such, then, is the infinite duration of this newly found spiritual life and the intensity of the stage of Bala' that the suppression of the individuality is completely submerged by the lightning flash of God's regard. As a result, the soul derives spiritual pleasures from Bala' and is delighted with its Bala' with God, because it can enjoy propinquity with God and the wound of Bala' is soothed. The soul is not bent down under the burden of Bala' nor does it chafe at its spiritual load. Their experience makes heroes of them—because of the secrets revealed to them they stay conquered by God, awaiting His commands that Allah may designate what shall be done."/2

To Junaid, Unification was the highest state of enlightenment; it was a fresh kind of knowledge he called ma'rifa. It was revealed to devotees who had reached the state of Tawhid and were termed 'arifs. According to Junaid the 'arif was not the seeker but the muwahhid (one endowed

/1 Personality and writings of al-Junayd, p. 81; quoted from Qushairi.

/2 ibid, pp. 85-6.

57
with the knowledge of Unification) to whom God in His grace had revealed Himself. However, an `arif was not some supernatural being. Junaid said:

'The `arif could not be an arif until he is like earth upon which the pious and impious walk; and like the clouds that are spread over everything; and like the rains that descend upon all places quite without any likes and dislikes.

What Junaid had expressed cautiously and soberly was now to be phrased in ecstatic, radical terms by his younger contemporary, Abu'l-Maghis al-Husain bin Mansur  al-Hallaj, the tragic, ill-fated figure who was to become the great martyr of medieval Sufism. Hallaj was born about 244/857-58 at Tur, in Fars, to the north-west of al-Bayza. His father was a wool carder, who later settled in the textile centre of Wasit./2 Hallaj was educated at Wasit and Basra. He came into contact with Junaid at Baghdad and then made a hajj to Mecca. After his return Hallaj wandered preaching through Khurasan dressed in a soldier's uniform, instead of the traditional woollen cloak of a sufi. By this time Hallaj had gathered about four hundred disciples who accompanied him on his travels. After a second pilgrimage, he wandered through India and Turkistan, where he acquainted himself with Buddhism and Manichaeism. About 290/903 he again went to Mecca, this time wearing only an Indian loin-cloth round his waist and a piece of patched and motley cloth thrown around his shoulders.
After this, his final pilgrimage, Hallaj remained in Baghdad. There he uttered his famous theopathic cry : Ana'l-Haqq (I am [God] the Truth). Orthodox opinion was sharply divided as to what discipline should be meted out to one who uttered such alleged profanities, however, they were forced to tread warily—the number of Hallaj's supporters at the Caliph's court was by no means meagre. His enemies denounced him for claiming mystical union with God and for causing moral instability among the people. Hallaj's disciples and friends explained that mystic inspiration was beyond the jurisdiction of an earthly court. However, the scramble for power between viziers of opposing sects finally led to Hallaj's imprisonment in 301/913. Current upheavals in politics postponed retribution being exacted for some years.
While in prison, Hallaj wrote his famous work, Ta Sin al-Anal, a meditation on the case of Iblis (the Devil) whose monotheism, Hallaj believed,

/1 Personality and writings of al-Junayd, p. 102. For biographical details see Sulami, pp. 141-150; Abu Nu`aim, X, pp. 255-87; Qushairi, pp. 20-1; al-Yafe'i, II, pp. 231-36; al-Subki', 11, pp. 80-3; Nicholson, pp. 128-30, 185-89; L. Massignon, pp. 273-78; R.C. Zaehner, Hindu and Muslim mysticism, pp. 135-53, 218-34; Arberry, pp. 199-213.

/2 Before the foundation of Baghdad, it was an important city in Iraq and originally occupied both banks of the Tigris. It lay equidistant from Kufa, Basra and Ahwaz.

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prevented him from prostrating before Adam. He also wrote a book on the ascension (mi’raj) of Muhammad. Imprisoned for nine years, the accusations against Hallaj assumed various forms. A statement of his reminding Muslims to, `... proceed seven times around the Ka`ba of one's heart,' was interpreted as meaning that he was a Qaramati Isma`ili attempting to destroy the Ka`ba in Mecca. The basis of the case against Hallaj which finally secured his condemnation was that he rejected the transcendence of God and preached infusion theories or incarnation (hulul). Ultimately on 29 Zu'l-Qa'da 309/1 April 922 Hallaj was hung on a gibbet after various revolting and merciless tortures had been inflicted.
Modern scholars have had access to Hallaj's works. Among those books which have been published about him are the Akhbar al-Hallaj (translated into French by Louis Massignon and entitled The Passion d'al-Hallaj), the Kitab al-Tawasin, a collection of eleven short treatises including the Ta Sin al-Azal and Hallaj's Arabic Diwan or collected poems.
Hallaj's concept of Anal-Haqq does not imply that human nature (nasut) is identical or interchangeable with the Divine (Lahut) ; to take a less elaborate simile—water does not become wine, when they are mixed. The following lines by Hallaj are most expressive :

`I am He whom I love, and He whom I love is I.

We are two spirits dwelling⁴⁸ in one body,

If thou seest me, thou seest Him;

And if thou seest Him, thou seest us both.'

Elsewhere Hallaj writes: 'We are two spirits fused together (halalna) in a single body.' This, however, also does not prove his belief in hulul. Hallaj's concept is identical with that of the leading Christian mystic, St. John of the Cross: 'Two natures (God and man) in a single spirit and love of God !' —Actually Hallaj meant that his `I' was 'acted upon' by divine grace. Nicholson explains it this way49 :

`According to Hallaj, the essence of God's essence is Love. Before the creation God loved Himself in absolute unity and through love revealed Himself to Himself alone. Then, desiring to behold that love-in-aloneness, that love without otherness and duality, as an external object, He brought forth from non-existence an image of Himself, endowed with all His attributes and names. This divine image is Adam, in and by whom God is manifest—divinity objectified in humanity.'/1

/1 R.A. Nicholson, Studies in Islamic mysticism, Cambridge, 1967, p. 80; For biographical details see Sulami, pp. 308-13; al-Khatib, VIII, pp. 112-41, Ibn Khallikan, I, no. 181; al-Yafe'i, 11, pp. 253-61; Nicholson, pp. 150-52; Arberry, pp. 264 71; R.A. Nicholson, The idea of personality in Sufism, Cambridge, 1923, pp. 25-37.

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Hallaj's views were repudiated by Junaid but the latter did not dissociate himself from either Abu Yazid or Shibli who expressed their mystical experiences in a similar way. Abu Bakr Dulaf bin Jandar al-Shibli was of Khurasanian origin but had been born in Baghdad or Samarra. The son of a high-ranking court official, he had served as governor of Damawand, about fifty miles north-east of Tehran. Having had various intense spiritual experiences, Shibli resigned his position and became one of Junaid's disciples, immediately embarking on an intense course of self-mortification. This included begging in the streets of Baghdad. Later Shibli returned to Damawand where he went from house to house attempting to make amends to those he may have dissatisfied while governor. Returning to Baghdad, Junaid again urged Shibli to beg and also to perform menial services for his master's companions. All this was done so that not a vestige of the former governor's pomp and pride remained.
Of Shibli's own pronouncements, we know, he insisted people should pronounce God's name only with a background of true experience and understanding. Overpowered by mystic ecstasy, Shibli would cry out publicly : `God.' Junaid reproached him saying :

‘ « We utter these words in grottos ... now you have come and declare them in the market-place. » « I am speaking and I am listening, » Shibli replied. "In both worlds who is there but I? Nay rather, these are words proceeding from God to God, and Shibli is not there at all." "If that is the case, you have dispensation," Junaid said.’

According to Shibli, only when God uprooted all the lust from a man's heart, was the bodily eye safe from its own hidden dangers. God must replace lust with a desire for Himself; until then the spiritual eye might be hindered from other than Him alone.
For some time Shibli was committed to a mental asylum because of his ideas, however, no stronger action was taken against him. He died in 334/946 at the age of eighty seven./1 The following references to Shibli, during the period of his confinement, which were related by 'Attar, give some insight into Shibli's own rationalization of his behaviour, which others interpreted as madness:

'When Shibli was confined in chains a group of his companions one day went to visit him. "Who are you?," he cried. "Your friends," they told him. He at once began to throw stones at them, and they all fled. "Liars!" he shouted., "Do friends run away from their friend because of a few stones? This proves that you are friends of yourselves, not of me !" Once Shibli was observed running with a burning coal in his hand. '`Where are you going?" they asked. "I

/1 Arberry, p. 282. -

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am running to set fire to the Ka`ba," he answered, "so that men may henceforward care only for the Lord of the Ka`ba." On another occasion he was holding in his hand a piece of wood alight at both ends. "What are you going to do?" he was asked. "I am going to set Hell on fire with one end and Paradise with the other," he replied, "so that men may concern themselves only with God.' "/1

By the time Shibli died, sufism had completed its formative stage. The goal of the sufi path was God alone, and anything that hindered one from the object of this quest was rejected. Sufis applied an esoteric meaning to verses in the Qur'an which related to repentance, abstinence, renunciation, poverty, patience, trust in God, satisfaction, fear, hope etc. The main aim of their lives was to rid themselves of hypocrisy and lust—to them, latent forms of polytheism. Thus a division grew up between the `ulama,' who administered the Shari'a, and the mystics, who they denounced as ignorant of the law. In turn, sufis criticized the 'ulama' as externalists and formalists who were unaware of the real spirit of the Shari'a. To the sufis, the study of the esoteric was : 'the science of the actions of the interior which depended on an interior organ namely, the heart (al-galb).' To externalists, the heart was only a physical organ of flesh and blood, but to the sufis it was a spiritual organ. An illuminated heart was a mirror in which every divine quality was reflected. Ma'rifa or the gnosis of Hellenistic theosophy was based on a light of divine grace that flashed into the heart. The wearing of woollen garments and patched frocks, a knowledge of the mystical allegories, anecdotes and technical expressions or hypocritical prayers, and fasting, did not lead to mystic illumination. Only when the individual self was lost, the doors to mystic illumination were opened and the Universal Self was found. All true sufis denounced anti nomianism and libertinism. Nevertheless, their language describing divine love unavoidably involved the use of erotic symbolism which was tinged with sensuality. Sufi ethics of love inculcated in mystics and enraptured contemplation resulting in expressions known as shatahat (hybrid utterances). These expressions were not, however, a normal aspect of sufi life; they emanated from what was called sukr (a state of intoxication). In contrast to this was the controlled and disciplined side of sufi life, known as sahw (sobriety). Later the states of sukr and sahw were recognized as two different schools of sufism; the former represented by Bayazid and Hallaj and the latter by Muhasibi and Junaid. What sufis of both schools tended to believe was that, as a rain drop was not annihilated in the ocean, although it ceased to exist individually, similarly the sufi soul in the unitive state was indistinguishable from the Universal Divine50.

/1 Arberry, p. 281; Biographical notes are to be found in Sulami, pp. 346-55; Sarraj, Kitab al-Luma', London, 1963, pp. 395-406; Qushairi, p. 27; Ibn Khallikan, II, no. 215; Nicholson, pp. 155-56; Arberry, pp. 277-86; Ibn al-'Imad, II, p. 338.

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The asceticism and renunciation of the mystics did not cut them off from Muslim society anywhere in the Islamic world. Their example radiated to all sections of the community. Their humane treatment of animals and birds, especially to dogs, regarded as unclean by orthodox Muslims, was noteworthy and it tended to affect their attitude towards all human beings, including non-Muslims and members of the so-called heterodox sects. In general, sufis avoided the courts of their rulers and the company of the governing classes. However, they did not hesitate to remind the élite, whenever the opportunity arose, that the common Muslims had been divinely entrusted to their care.
During the first two centuries of Islam, sufi discipleship had become better organized. Followers gathered around al-Hakim in Tirmiz, Abu'l-Abbas Sayyar in Marw, Qassar in Nishapur, Bayazid in Bastam, Khafif in Shiraz, Sahl in Tustar, and around Kharraz, Muhasibi, Junaid and Nuri in Baghdad./1 This gave rise to the development of sufi sects. Each sect evolved its own framework of mystic practices under the guidance of its director (Shaikh, Pir or Murshid). Their forms of recollection (zikr) and meditation differed; their ideologies were often irreconcilable but there was no hostility among sufis who adhered to the basic framework of the Sharia.
A sect of sufis which was imbued with Hindu, Chinese and Tibetan beliefs of the eternity of the spirit shocked the majority of sufis who believed in the Islamic concept of the spirit./2 The former were known as Hululis. Discussing the theory of the eternity of the spirit, Hujwiri related that Sunnis also believed that the spirit was non-eternal (muhdas), that it existed prior to the formation of the body, but that it could not be transferred from one body to another. God was eternal but His creatures had a finite existence. Therefore it was impossible that the eternal should be mingled with its opposite and fused with it. Hujwiri reminds us that Hululis and other followers of metempsychosis who believed that the spirit was an eternal characteristic of God, stressed that he could never become an attribute of His creatures. Hujwiri added :

'The spirit is created and is under God's command. Anyone who holds another belief is in flagrant error and cannot distinguish what is non-eternal from what is eternal. No saint, if his saintship be sound, can possibly be ignorant of the attributes of God.’/3

/1 According to Hujwiri the sufi sects named after the above Masters were approved ones. He gives a detailed description of each in the Kashf al-Mahjub; Nicholson, pp. 176-260.

/2 When the Quraish idolaters, prompted by the Jews, asked the Prophet Muhammad to explain the nature and essence of the spirit, God in a revelation denied the eternity of the spirit saying. 'The spirit belongs to that which (that is, the creation of which) my Lord command' (Qur'an, XVII, 87). The Muslims believe that the spirit is a substance, rather than an attribute. It is a subtle body, which comes and goes at God's command. To Muslims it is not eternal (gadim). Nicholson, pp. 261-63.

/3 Nicholson, pp. 263-64.

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The orthodox sufis dissociated themselves from the doctrine of hulul which was to become the most convenient and dangerous weapon in the `ulama' armoury with which to denounce and suppress sufism. The movement's esoteric and ascetic practices and its members' indulgence in music and dancing also provided the theologians with opportunities to crush sufi activities. However, the transformation of sufism into an organised religious movement during the eleventh and twelfth centuries was coupled with the appearance of sufi texts in which the major ideas of mysticism were argued, codified and substantiated. This helped enormously to give the movement a firmer, more legitimate foundation on which to develop.

Sufi Literature

In previous pages we have referred to a number of sufi authors. Generally their works were composed for specialists. From the middle of the tenth century onwards, many scholars of Fiqh and Hadis brought their academic training to bear on the study of sufism and wrote texts related to sufi theories and ideas in an attempt to clarify misunderstandings. They were essentially scholars who were also trained in sufism.
One of the earliest of these authors was Abu Said Ahmad ibn Muhammad ibn Ziyad ibn Bishr ibn al-'Arabi. He had been born in Basra, but moved to Mecca, where he remained until his death in 341/ 952-53. Ibn al-Arabi was Junaid's disciple and for about thirty years a Hadis teacher in Mecca. This scholastic training helped ibn al-Arabi in his later work, the Tabaqat al-Nussak. Although this text has not survived, extracts indicate that the author laid a firm foundation for the later sufi literary tradition.
Abu Muhammad Ja`far ibn Nusayr ibn al-Qasim al-Khawass al-Baghdadi al-Khuldi, who died in 348/959-60, was also trained in Hadis. He wrote the Hikayat al-Awliya' (Anecdotes of the Saints), a compendium of mystical subtleties. The work itself has not survived, but the Kitab al-Luma'fi al-Tasawwuf by his pupil, Abu Nasr `Abdu'llah ibn Ali al-Sarraj al-Tusi (d. 378/988-89) still exists and has been critically edited. Abu Sai'd's disciple, Abu Talib Muhammad ibn `Ali 'Atiya al-Makki (d. 386/996-97) wrote the Kitab Qut al-Qulub fi Mu`amalat al-Mahbub, an authoritative description of sufism.
Al-Makki's contemporary, Abu Bakr Muhammad ibn Ishaq al-Kalabazi had great literary gifts. His book, Kitab al-Ta'ruf li Mazhab al-Tasawwuf, is a lucid description of sufi discipline. The author was a native of Bukhara who wrote in Arabic. He died in 388/998-99. His major work, however, was immediately translated into Persian by another Bukhara scholar, Mustamli, who himself died in 434/1042-43.
The earliest known source of biographical details is the Tabaqat al-Sufiyya by `Abdu'r Rahman Muhammad al-Sulami51 of Nishapur. He died in 412/1021-22. Based on stories contained in this work, ‘Abdu'llah
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al-Ansari al-Harawi, who will be discussed separately, delivered lectures on the life and teachings of earlier sufis and on the basis of Ansari's lectures, a new work in Persian emerged, also entitled Tabaqat al-Sufiyya. Sulami's Tabaqat laid the foundations of a genre of biographical literature which classified the sufis of one generation, or three or four decades, under separate chapters, calling them tabaqat (classes). Sulami's models were the biographical dictionaries of narrators or transmitters of the traditions of the Prophet, such as the Kitab al-Tabaqat al-Kabir. Sulami's Haq'iq al-Tafsir gives an important insight into the sufi understanding of Qur'anic teaching. The Hilyat al-Awliya' wa Tabaqat al-Asfiya', by Hafiz Abu Nu'aim Ahmad ibn `Abdu'llah, who died in 430/1038-39, is a remarkable collection of sufi traditions and stories.
A most authoritative study of sufism itself is, the Risala of Abu'l-Qasim Abdu'l-Karim ibn Hawazin al-Qushairi of Nishapur, who died in 465/1072. The work is an effort to express the orthodox nature of sufism, and was undertaken between 437 and 438/1045 and 1046. Qushairi's Risala is an excellent summary of earlier sufi literature written in Arabic. The significance of the work prompted Qushairi's disciple, Abu `Ali Hasan bin Ahmad 'Usmani to translate it into Persian before Qushairi's death in 465/1072. Qushairi wrote other treatises on different subjects of interest to sufis and a commentary on the Qur'an.
Extensive studies equipped Qushairi to define sufi terms authoritatively and at the same time to make them acceptable to a sizable section of later readers. Differentiating between Shari'a and Haqiqa, he writes :

'The Shari'a is concerned with the observance of the outward manifestations of religion [i.e., rites and acts of devotion ('ibadat) and duties (mu'amalat)]; whilst Haqiqa (Reality) concerns inward vision of divine power (mushahadat ar-Rububiyya). Every rite not informed by the spirit of Reality is valueless, and every spirit of Reality not restrained by the Law is incomplete. The Law exists to regulate mankind, whilst the Reality makes us know the dispositions of God. The Law exists for the service of God, whilst the Reality exists for contemplation of Him. The Law exists for obeying what He had ordained, whilst the Reality concerns witnessing and understanding the order He has decreed : the one is outer, the other inner. I heard the learned Abu `Ali ad-Daqqaq say, "The phrase Iyyaka na`budu (Thee we serve) is for sustaining the Law, whilst lyyaka nasta`inl (Thy help we ask) is for affirming the Reality." Know that the Law is the Reality because God ordained it, and the Reality is also the Law because it is the knowledge of God likewise ordained by Him.'/2

/1 The two phrases occur in chapter one. Al-Fatrha, 'The Opening', is regarded as the essence of the Qur'an. It is an essential part of all Muslim prayers.

2/ Qushairi, p. 46; extract translated by J.S. Trimingham, The Sufi orders in Islam, Oxford, 1973, p. 142.

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Another prolific sufi author was Abu'l-Hasan `Ali bin `Usman bin `Ali al-Ghaznawi al-Jullabi al-Hujwiri. Of his many works only his greatest, the Kashf al-Mahjub, has survived.
The most outstanding sufi author, however, was Abu Hamid Muhammad bin Muhammad Ghazali (450/1058-505/1111), from Tus near Mashhad. Educated at Tus, Gurgan and Nishapur, sometime before 1091 Ghazali underwent a period of deep scepticism which prompted him to search for a more meaningful way of life. From 1091 to 1095 he was a professor at the Nizamiyya seminary in Baghdad, which had originally been founded by the Saljûq vizier, Nizamu'l-Mulk Tusi (b. c. 1018, died 1092). Political reasons, as well as his personal aversion to the legal wranglings of the `ulama', forced Ghazali to resign in 1095. From that time until 1106, he lived in Syria. During this period Ghazali also travelled to Mecca, visited Alexandria briefly and went to Tus. All this time he lived like a sufi.
Ghazali's greatest work, the Ihya' al-'Ulum al-Din (Revival of the Religious Sciences), was the literary offspring of these years. In 1106, he accepted the post of lecturer at another Nizamiyya seminary, this time in Nishapur. Now he was both an `alim and a sufi, with a growing conviction that he was personally destined to lead a revival in Islam of its earlier pristine purity (mujaddid). Before his death, Ghazali once more retired to the life of a sufi in his own khanqah at Tus. But the principal mission of his later years was to reconcile the life of the madrasa, or seminary, to that of the khanqah or monastery.
Following his period of scepticism, Ghazali studied the Arabic Neo-platonism of al-Farabi (d. 339/950) and Ibn Sina (370/980-428/1037), and wrote a work on their philosophy called the Maqasid al-Falasifa. In 488/1095 he compiled a detailed criticism of the philosophical theories which he considered either inconsistent with their authors' claims or irreconcilable with Sunni beliefs. He called it the Tahafut al-Falasifa (Incoherence of the Philosophers). Ghazali, however, did not neglect Aristotelian logic and wrote two books justifying its use for religious purposes.
The Ihya' al-' Ulum is a detailed examination of `ibadat (worship), `adat (social customs), muhlikat (vices or character faults) and munjiyat (virtues leading to salvation). Ghazali himself abridged the Ihya al-'Ulum in a Persian edition, and added some new material in order to give further impact to his teachings. The new work, was given the title, the Kimiya'-i Sa'adat (Alchemy of Felicity). Ghazali's other writings on sufism include Mishkat al-Anwar (Niche of Lights) and the Bidayat al-Hidaya (Beginning of Guidance).
To Ghazali the mystic path included both intellectual and contemplative activities. He acquired a background to the former by reading the works of Haris al-Muhasibi and Abu Talib al-Makki, and also through the various anecdotes about Abu Yazid Bastami and Shibli. Convinced
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that mysticism could not be approached through the mind alone, Ghazali advocated immediate experience (zawq, literally `tasting') attained through ecstasy and a moral rejuvenation. Ghazali's own ascetic exercises opened for him the door to mysticism. He describes the mystic path, or Tariqa this way:

` ... purity which is the first condition of it (the way). . . is the purification of the heart completely from what is other than God ... the key to it, which ... corresponds to the opening act of adoration in prayer, is the sinking of the heart completely in the recollection of God; and the end of it is complete absorption (fana') in God. ... this is the end. ..to those first steps which almost come within the sphere of choice and personal responsibility .. .

With this first stage of the 'way' there begin the revelations and visions. (They) ... behold angels and the spirits of the prophets; .. . Later a higher stage is reached ... they come to stages in the 'way' which it is hard to describe in language ... In general what they manage to achieve is nearness to God ... He who has attained the mystic state need do no more than say :

Of the things I do not remember, what was, was;

Think it good ; do not ask an account of it.' /1

Through his own experiences with the mystic path, Ghazali claimed to have achieved the true and unique nature of revelation. This, according to him, was not correctly understood by either scholastic theologians or philosophers.
Ghazali emphasized that heaven and earth were created through God's will as embodied in His command : 'Be.' He is both transcendent and immanent, but He is not the Absolute of philosophers but the personal God of the Muslims. Singleminded sincerity in prayers by the annihilation of everything else in the heart created a situation in which God's love preceded that of His servant; the latter's qualities were transformed and he became God-like. Ghazali reminded the worshipper :

`God differs from (earthly) kings for all His unique majesty and greatness, in inspiring His creatures to ask and make their plea to Him, and He differs from the sultans (of this world) in opening the door and lifting the veil and giving leave to His servants to enter into confidential intercourse ... and He does not limit Himself to permission, but He shews His kindness by inspiring desire for this and calling (His servant) to Him. And others, kings who are but

/1 Al-Ghazali, al Munqiz min az-zalal, `Deliverance from Error', tr., by W.M. Watt, The faith and practice of al-Ghazali, London, 1963, pp. 60-1.

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creatures, do not freely grant a private audience except after the offer of gifts and bribery.'/1

Ghazali's comments on the beliefs of Abu Yazid and Hallaj are a significant reminder to mystics that the words of passionate lovers in the state of ecstasy should not be spoken but remain concealed.
Ghazali's principal contribution to sufism was in the great emphasis he laid on the observance of the outward form of religious activities. The consummation of sufism, according to him, was impossible if associated with a neglect of formal observance. At the same time he insisted that an understanding of the religio-social ethics of Islam necessitated an adherence to its spiritual aspects.
Ghazali condemned different forms of pride, vanity, self-conceit, self-deception, envy, jealousy, anger, malice, love of wealth and status. But like al-Muhasibi, it was hypocrisy, which he considered to be a form of polytheism, that was singled out for his most scathing attack. Repentance involved an expiation for past evil and a simultaneous examination of one's inner life. The virtue of patience was also highly recommended by Ghazali; worship of God did not merely include praise of Him but the correct use of what had been endowed by Him.

Sufi poetry and political changes in Iran

It was the prose works of tenth and eleventh century sufis which had the greatest effect in fashioning sufism into an orthodox mould. However, the sensitivity and euphony of transcendental love, as it led to annihilation, found its greatest expression through poetry, particularly that written in Persian.
The ruba'is (quatrains) ascribed to Shaikh Abu Said bin Abi'l-Khair were, in fact, the great poetical legacy of his predecessors. It was remarkable that such a body of sufi poetical works were available to Shaikh Abu Said, which he in turn recited in lectures and bequeathed after his death to future generations. Not only in his literary role but also in his reorganization of khanqah life did the Shaikh prove himself a pioneer.
Abu Said bin Abi'l-Khair's rise to prominence augured well for sufism. His own prestige helped to firmly establish the popularity of sufism amidst the new political and orthodox religious movements of the eleventh century in Iran and Central Asia. This was the era of the decline of the political power of the `Abbasids and the ascendancy of semi-independent and independent monarchies from amongst Turkic dynasties of Iranian origin.
The earliest ruler to establish an independent kingdom was Tahir bin al-Husain. He founded the Tahirid dynasty in Khurasan which ruled from 205/821 to 259/873. The Tahirids were of Iranian descent and

1/Al-Ghazali, lhya al-'Ulum al-Din', extract in An early mystic of Baghdad, p. 276.

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orthodox Sunnis and their support came mainly from Iranian and Arab military sections and the landed classes. The longest surviving dynasty, although it finally lost independence and was replaced, was the Saffarid. Founded in Sistan in 253/867, by Ya`quub bin Lays al-Saffar, a coppersmith, it expanded throughout modern Afghanistan to Kabul, close to the very fringes of the Indian sub-continent. In turn, the dynasty yielded to the suzerainty of the Samanids, the Ghaznawids and the Mongols, the latter continued to rule the Sistan region until 885/1480.
Between 204/819 and 395/1005, the Samanids ruled Khurasan and Transoxiana with their capital at Bukhara. By the end of the tenth century the Turkic Qarakhanids and the Ghaznawids had smashed their power and the river Oxus became the boundary line between the two powers. The Qarakhanids ruled in Transoxiana and eastern Turkistan between 382/992 and 607/1211. Ghaznawid power was established by Sebuktigin (366/977-387/997) whose career began as a governor of the Samanids. Yamain al-Dawla Mahmud (388/998-421/1030) established Ghaznawid rule over Khurasan, Afghanistan and the Panjab. Before his death, Mahmud was able to conquer parts of western Iran, including Rayy and Hamadan. His son, Mas`ud (1030-40), lost Khurasan and Khwarazm to the Saljuqs, and in turn the Ghurids of Central Afghanistan crushed the Ghaznawids. The first return blow of the Ghurids was delivered by `Ala'u'd-Din who defeated Bahram Shah (1118-52) in two hotly contested battles. As a result Bahram Shah was forced to flee to the Panjab. The devastation and plunder of Ghazna by `Ala'u'd-Din's troops prompted his nickname, Jahan Suz (Incendiary of the World). Under Ghiyas'ud-Din Muhammad of Ghur (558/1163-599/1203) and his brother Shihabu'd-Din (later Mu'izzu'd-Din Muhammad 599/1203-602/1206) the Ghurid empire, expanded to Bengal in eastern India. The Ghurids weakened the power of the Khwarazm-Shah of Khiva and made serious inroads into the Khurasan region. The Ghurids' enduring achievement was the conquest of northern India.
The Saljuqs, who expelled the Ghaznawids from the Khurasan region, were Turkic tribes from the Steppes north of the Caspian and Aral seas. In 429/1038 their leader, Tughril, (1038-63) in his capital Nishapur, proclaimed himself Sultan of Khurasan, at the same time becoming a staunch supporter of Sunni orthodoxy. Under the Saljuqs, the Perso-Islamic pattern of politics in this area crystallized. Its intellectual and political champion was the great vizier, Nizamu'l-Mulk Tusi. The Saljuq government was run by an Iranian bureaucracy and the army by Turkic slave commanders. A number of orthodox intellectuals, including Ghazali, popularized the idea of the interdependence of Muslim kingship and Sunni orthodoxy. According to Ghazali, God sent prophets to lead His people back to Him. Kingship was, in turn designed to prevent aggressive behaviour between people. Monarchs, he wrote, were entrusted with the material well-being of God's servants. Their unique
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position endowed them with a special kind of divine light (Tarr).
Under Chingiz, the rise of the Mongols marked the end of Turkic power in Transoxiana. In 1221 the last Khwarazm-Shah, Jalalu'd-Din, was driven by Chingiz across the Indus, and in 1256 the Il-khanid branch of the Mongols seized Baghdad, assassinating the last `Abbasid, al-Musta`sim, two years later. The capital of the newly-established Il-khanid empire was Tabriz. However, the Mamluk Turks of Egypt managed to halt the Mongol advance on Syria, at the same time destroying the prevailing myth of Mongol invincibility.
Rawandi, a Saljuq historian in Anatolia and Turkey, wrote of a supernatural power which spoke from the Meccan Ka'ba to Abu Hanifa, the founder of the Hanafi school of Fiqh, promising him that as long as the sword remained in the hands of the Turks, the Hanafis would not perish./1
The political upheavals from the tenth to the thirteenth centuries reinforced sufi beliefs in the transitory nature of the world and the necessity to remain both apart and independent from it. By contrast, the `ulama,' dependent on the state economically, became embroiled in political activities. Sufis were now in a position to remain independent from the government for merchants and craft guilds assumed positions as their patrons. The intimate relationship between guilds and sufi khanqahs can be seen in stories connected with the life of Abu Said bin Abi'l-Khair.
Having dealt with the major political changes between the tenth and thirteenth centuries in order to give a background to the sufi movement, we shall now return to a description of sufi poetry, khanqahs and the movement's leading figures. To illustrate the life of mystics in this period, four sufi poets will be discussed briefly.
Abu Said52 Fazlu'llah bin Abi'l-Khair, the great Iranian sufi and a transmitter of Persian poetry, was born on 1 Muharram 357/7 December 967 in Mayhana, the present Me'ana, between Abiward and Sarakhs, in Khurasan. His father, Babu Bu'l-Khair, was a druggist as well as a sufi. Although there were numerous ribats (hospices) and khanqahs scattered throughout Khurasan, many sufis in Mayhana, Abu Sa`id's father included, preferred to live, and hold sama' rituals, in their own houses. At the request of his mother, as a boy, Abu Said was taken to the house of a sufi where a sama ` party was being held. There the following quatrain, sung by a qawwal or musician, made a deep and lasting impression on him :

`God gives the dervish love—and love is woe ;

By dying near and dear to Him they grow.

The generous youth will freely yield his life,

The man of God cares naught for worldly show./2

/1 Rabat al-Sudur, London, 1921, pp. 13, 17.

/2 R.A. Nicholson, Studies in Islamic mysticism, Cambridge, 1967, p. 3_

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Abu Sa`id obtained a religious education at Mayhana, Marw and Sarakhs. Although he learnt Fiqh, Qur'anic exegesis and Hadis, he remained profoundly devoted to Sufism. Abu'l-Qasim Bishr-i Yasin of Mayhana was his first guide in mysticism and filled him with a strong belief in the disinterested love of God. He requested his pupil to learn by heart the following Hadis:

'God said to me on the night of my Ascension, O Muhammad ! as for those who would draw nigh to Me, their best means ... is by performance of the obligations which I have laid upon them. My servant continually seeks to win My favour by works of supererogation until I love him; and when I love him, I am to him an ear and an eye and a hand and a helper : through Me he hears, and through Me he sees, and through Me he takes.'

Bishr also suggested that Abu Said recite the following quatrain, in order to be able to converse with God :

`Without Thee, O Beloved, I cannot rest;

Thy goodness towards me I cannot reckon.

Tho' every hair on my body becomes a tongue,

A thousandth part of the thanks due to Thee I cannot tell.'/1

After Bishr died in 380/990, Abu Said continued training under Abu'l-Fazl Muhammad bin Hasan al-Sarakhsi at Sarakhs. His teacher's influence made Abu Said abandon his formal education. Abu'l-Fazl recorded that Abu Said obtained a khirqa (a cloak which marked sufi initiation) from the celebrated mystic writer, al-Sulami. He also received another khirqa, this time from an Amul sufi, Abu'l-`Abbas al-Qassab.
Abu Said spent about seven years living as a hermit and later practised ascetic exercises in a ribat-i kuhan, an old deserted ribat. His father's description of Abu Said's penance is valuable as it describes a unique spiritual practice.

'My son ... walked on until he reached the rihat-i kuhan. He entered it and shut the gate behind him, while I went up on the roof. I saw him go into a chapel which was in the ribat, and close the door. Looking through the chapel window, I waited to see what would happen. There was a stick lying on the floor, and it had a rope fastened to it. He took up the stick and tied the end of the rope to his foot. Then, laying the stick across the top of a pit that was at the corner of the chapel, he slung himself into the pit head downwards, and began to recite the Qur'an. He remained in that posture until

/1 R.A. Nicholson, Studies in Islamic mysticism, Cambridge, 1967, p. 5.

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daybreak, when, having recited the whole Qur'an, he raised himself from the pit, replaced the stick where he had found it, opened the door, came out of the chapel, and commenced to perform his ablution in the middle of the ríbat. I descended from the roof, hastened home, and slept until he came in.'/1

The following passage is Abu Sa'id's own summary of his self-mortifications :

'When I was a novice, I bound myself to do eighteen things : I fasted continually; I abstained from unlawful food; I practised recollection (zikr) uninterruptedly; I kept awake at night; I never reclined on the ground; I never slept but in a sitting posture; I sat facing the Ka`ba; I never leaned against anything; I never looked at a handsome youth or at women whom it would have been unlawful for me to see unveiled; I did not beg; I was content and resigned to God's will; I always sat in the mosque and did not go into the market, because the Prophet said that the market is the filthiest of places and the mosque the cleanest. In all my acts I was a follower of the Prophet. Every four-and-twenty hours I completed a recitation of the Qur'an. In my seeing I was blind, in my hearing deaf, in my speaking dumb. For a whole year I conversed, with no one. People called me a lunatic, and I allowed them to give me that name, relying on the Tradition that a man's faith is not made perfect until he is supposed to be mad. I performed everything that I had read or heard of as having been done or commanded by the Prophet.'/2

Every available means to crush the instinct of his nafs or lower self was adopted by Abu Said. In order to achieve self-abasement, he performed various services to the poor such as bring them water, and helping them in heavy labouring. For the dervishes, he would clean their cells, lavatories and privies. Feeling that begging was the most difficult and humbling task of all, Abu Said would ask for food for his fellow sufis. Through this experience he came to believe that the shortest way to God was in extending material comfort to his fellow Muslims./3
Around 415/1024, Abu Said settled in Nishapur. There he became a sufi preacher attracting large audiences. On one occasion, the number of sufis in his khanqah was estimated as eighty travellers and forty permanent residents. Abu Sa`id's stay in Nishapur upset the Karramis/4

/1 R.A. Nicholson, Studies in Islamic mysticism, Cambridge, 1967, pp. 13-4.

/2 ibid, p. 15.

/3 Muhammad bin Munawwar, Asraru't-Tan'hid, Tehran, 2^nd edition, 1348/1969, pp. 34-7.

/4 A Sunni sect which was very popular in Khurasan around 370/980-81. The Karrami leader, Muhammad bin Ibrahim Símjur, prompted Mahmud of Ghazna to persecute a large number of the lsma'ili Shi'is. Their main centre was in Nishapur.

and other theologians, including the Shi`is, who wrote to Mahmud of Ghazna with the following complaint:
`A certain man has come hither from Mayhana and pretends to be a sufi. He preaches sermons but does not quote the Traditions of the Prophet. He holds sumptuous feasts and music is played by his orders, whilst the young men dance and eat sweetmeats and roasted fowls and all kinds of fruit. He declares that he is an ascetic, but this is neither asceticism nor sufism. Multitudes have joined him and are being led astray. Unless measures be taken to repair it, the mischief will soon become universal.'/1
The Sultan ordered leading Shafi'i and Hanafi `ulama' to make a thorough investigation of Abu Said and, if guilty, to punish him according to the Shari'a. This tended to disturb the equanimity of the Nishapur sufis, but not the Shaikh's. Through his telepathic powers, he was aware of the proposed inquiry. A sumptuous feast was duly ordered and the Shaikh's indifference to worldly authorities, coupled by his supernatural powers, succeeded in stunning his opponents. Feeling trapped, the `ulama' decided to drop their case against Shaikh Abu Said. However, the latter's extravagant spending and entertainments involving music and dancing, which were often attended by young boys, shocked many sufis. Among them was al-Qushairi, the author of the Risala, who had spent his whole life attempting to reconcile orthodoxy and the sufi movement. The Shaikh's biographers however, mention a number of stories in which the two sufis were reconciled through Abu Said's use of telepathy.
The personal life of the Shaikh also amazed many in Nishapur. Sometimes he wore wool, sometimes silk. Once Abu Said shocked his audience

The founder of the sect was Abu 'Abdu'llah Muhammad bin Karram of Sistan who died in Jerusalem in c. 255/869. The following were the chief tenets of the Karramiya : ' ... the Divine Being is a Substance (jawhar), for which some of his followers substituted Body (jism), though without human members, and in contact (mumassa, for which the euphemism Mulaqat was substituted) with the Throne, which is located in space. This was apparently a deduction from the Qur'anic 'ala'l-'arshi 'stawa (VII, 55; X, 3; XIII, 2; XX, 5; etc.), and, indeed, the rest of his theology would seem to have been an endeavour to work the Qur'anic texts into certain parts of the Aristotelian philosophy, notably the distinction between substance and accident, and that between dynamis and energeia. Thus his followers could maintain that God was `speaking' before He spoke, and could be worshipped before there were any worshippers. The doctrine of the eternity of the world was reconciled with the Qur'anic creation by some subtle expedients; God, he held, was subject to certain Accidents, such as willing, perceiving, speaking, coming in contact ; over such accidents He has power, but not over the world and the objects therein which were created not by His Will, but by the word kun. Thus, it would seem, the tense in kun fa-yaku uu could have its proper meaning. H.A.R. Gibb and J.H. Krames, Shorter encyclopaedia of Islam, Leiden, 1961, p. 223.

1/ Studies in Islamic mysticism, p. 29.

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by declaring, like Hallaj’: 'there is none other than God in this robe.' At the same time, according to his biographer, Abu Said pushed his forefinger through his cloak.
The anecdotes of Abu Sa'id's luxurious feasts, in which thousands of candles were burnt during the day, give some indication of the amounts both available, and offered, to sufis by merchants and other devotees at that time. Often former traders and other wealthy disciples, before becoming ascetics, would give all their possessions to a khanqah of their choice. Sometimes Shaikh Abu Said would send his servant, Hasan Mu'addib to raise money for his extravagances from his disciples, and on occasions, from his enemies. He contracted huge debts which were invariably paid by visiting merchant caravans. However, the Shaikh was opposed to a fixed source of income—nothing was accumulated for future use and everything was given away or used the same day it was received. Moreover, the Shaikh took care that his neighbours, and often people from the town, shared the pleasures of his entertainment.
In Nishapur, Ibn Sina (Avicenna), the philosopher, came into contact with the Shaikh. They had many lengthy conversations and some of their exchanges are preserved in the form of correspondence. Ibn Sina's mystic approach to the soul was the subject of a long odes and was a recurring point of dispute between the two.
Sometime before 425/1033-34, Shaikh Abu Sa'id left Nishapur intending to make a hajj. Upon reaching Kharqan, he was dissuaded by the sufi Abu'l-Hasan Kharqani. Abu Said then travelled to Bastam, Damghan and Rayy, finally returning to Mayhana. He spent the rest of his life there, dying on 4 Sha'ban 440/12 January 1049.
Before the Shaikh's death, the Saljuqs had conquered Khurasan. He managed to maintain amicable relations with Tughril (429/1038-455/ 1063) and was reported as having prophesied that Nizamu'l-Mulk would become a great vizier. Here is an interesting story related by Abu Said about Mahmud of Ghazna.

'A high official of Mahmud saw the Sultan in a dream and asked after his health. Mahmud answered: "There is no place for any sultan here. I am nothing here. The Sultan is God the Most High—. Everything said in the world was wrong." The officer asked Mahmud to tell him of the treatment meted out to him (from God). Mahmud replied : "I am a prisoner here and have to account for every minor thing that happened during my life. The treasury was enjoyed by someone else, grief and lamentation have befallen me." /2

/1 E.G. Browne, A literary history of Persia, II, Cambridge, 1964, pp. 110-11 ; Irij Afshar ed. Halat wa Sukhanan Shaikh Abu Said Abu'l-Khair Mihni, Tehran, 1349, Iranian era/ 1970, pp. 113-21.

/2 Asraru't-Tawhid, p. 268.

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This story was used by the Shaikh to illustrate his own attitude towards wealth, that is, that it should be used for philanthropic purposes only. When a disciple performed an act of kindness to a dervish, he observed that it was better than a hundred genuflexions during prayers; if he gave him a mouthful of food, it was more praiseworthy than an entire night spent praying. The Shaikh believed God's men were not confined to mosques alone, they were in taverns, too. He described it this way:

'The true saint goes in and out amongst the people and eats and sleeps with them and buys and sells in the market and marries and takes part in social intercourse and never forgets God for a single moment.'/1

The following are among some of Shaikh Abu Said's definitions on sufism:

`Sufism is two things: to look in one direction and to live in one way. Sufism is a name attached to its object; when it reaches its ultimate perfection, it is God ... (the end of sufism is that, for the sufi, nothing should exist except God).

The sufi is he who is pleased with all that God does, in order that God may be pleased with all that he does.

Sufism is patience under God's commanding and forbidding, and acquiescence and resignation in the events determined by divine providence. Sufism is the will of the Creator concerning His creatures when no creature exists.

To be a sufi is to cease from taking trouble (takalluf); and there is no greater trouble for thee than thine own self (tu'i-yi tu), for when thou art occupied with thyself, thou remainest away from God.

Even this, sufism, is polytheism (shirk).

... (it) consists in guarding the soul from what is other than God ; and there is nothing other than God.'/2

Unimpressed by miraculous feats of certain sufis, Abu Sa'id compared those who claimed to walk on water with frogs and waterfowls, and those who claimed to fly through the air with flies and insects, all of whom were similarly mobile./3 To him the first stage of sufi discipline was self mortification and the last, contemplation. When the unveiling was completed, ascetic practices and religious forms would not be necessary, for sufis lived in a state of permanent communion with God. There was no hell but selfhood, no paradise but selflessness53.
Shaikh Abu Sa`id's efforts to re-organize sufi life were far-reaching. To him sympathy and compassion, rather than punishment, were the

/1 Studies in Islamic mysticism, p. 55.

/2 ibid, pp. 49-50. /3 ibid, p. 67.

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most effective means to correct errors in disciples. He also popularized a high regard for spiritual directors and a belief in the power of their intercession on behalf of followers and friends.

Whoever has seen me and has done good work for my family and disciples will be under the shadow of my intercession hereafter. I have prayed God to forgive my neighbours on the left, on the right, in front and behind, and He has forgiven them for my sake ... My neighbours are Balkh and Marw and Nishapur and Herat. I am not speaking of those who live here (Mayhana). . I need not say a word on behalf of those around me. If any one has mounted an ass and passed by the end of this street, or has passed my house or will pass it, or if the light of my candle falls on him, the least thing that God will do with him is that He will have mercy upon him.’/1

In order to regularize behaviour in different khanqahs, Shaikh Abu Said outlined the following rules of discipline:

1. Let them (the inmates) keep their garments clean and themselves always pure.

2. Let them not sit in the mosque or in any holy place for the sake of gossiping.

3. In the first instance let them perform their prayers in common.

4. Let them pray much at night.

5. At dawn let them ask forgiveness of God and call unto Him.

6. In the morning let them read as much of the Qur'an as they can, and let them not talk until the sun has risen.

7. Between evening prayers and bedtime prayers let them occupy themselves with repeating some litany (Wirdi-u-zikri).

8. Let them welcome the poor and needy and all who join their company, and let them bear patiently the trouble of (waiting upon) them.

9. Let them not eat anything save in participation with one another.

10. Let them not absent themselves without receiving permission from one another.'/2

Large numbers of visitors came to the Shaikh's khanqah until 548/1153 when the invasion of the Ghuzz Turkic tribes completely devastated the region. Many of the Shaikh's own family were massacred by their conquerors.
One of Shaikh Abu Sa`id's ten most eminent disciples, Baba Said Dust Dada, founded a khanqah in Baghdad. After being assigned the area of Baghdad as his spiritual domain, Dust Dada arrived there from

/1 Studies in Islamic mysticism, pp. 64-5. /2 ibid, p. 46.

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Mayhana. He applied to the Caliph, al-Qa'im, (422/1031-467/1075), for land to build a khanqah on the banks of the Tigris, across the river in an uninhabited region. After receiving permission, a plot of about 200 square yards was selected by Dust Dada and he began collecting in a small bag, building material from dilapidated buildings nearby. Meanwhile a caravan of merchants and sufis arrived in Baghdad and at his request, camped on the land. Dust Dada would take his zanbil /l into the town to beg food, and then offered it to the campers. At prayer times he would lead. Impressed with his charity and self-sacrifice, members of the caravan returned his hospitality by giving him a considerable amount of money. After their departure, Dust Dada proceeded to build a khanqah with a big covered platform, a jama `at-khana (assembly hall), kitchen and lavatory. Other buildings in the complex were a large arcaded mosque and a number of cells. When the caravan returned, Dust Dada again invited its members to his khanqah. They were amazed to find so many elegant buildings erected in such a short time. As before, the Shaikh begged food for his guests, and they again repaid him liberally. This enabled him to complete the khanqah by adding a hammam (bath), more rooms and assembly halls. Later Dust Dada erected a bazaar of shops and a caravanserai in front of the khanqah's gateway.
This is the first detailed description of a khanqah complex which is available at the present time, however, all khanqahs were not built on such a grand scale; a few cells and a jama'at-khana, plus a mosque and a lavatory, were generally their main components. The fame of Dust Dada's khanqah attracted many sufis, and most of the people of Baghdad became his disciples. The Caliph, accompanied by his chief officials, also visited the khanqah where he was greatly impressed by the sight of more than fifty sufis praying in the jama’ at-khana. It appears that after Dust Dada had made the Caliph his disciple, the latter entrusted the welfare of the all Baghdadi Muslims to him. This increased Dust Dada's popularity with the local people, and many requested him to act as a go-between when requesting favours from the Caliph, who built himself a palace near the khanqah complex. Dust Dada became known as the Shaikh al-Shuyukh, or chief sufi, of Baghdad. So great was his prestige that he was revered like a Caliph./2
Although Dust Dada's influence was profound, it was also fleeting. The emergence of other sufi orders in Baghdad eclipsed the fame of his successors. The story of Dust Dada is significant, however, as it serves to illustrate the interrelation between khanqahs, caravans, merchants and sufis.
Among early Persian sufi poets whose biographical details and writings

/1 Literally a basket made of palm leaves, technically a bag hung across the shoulder to collect food obtained by begging locally. The custom is obviously of Buddhist origin.

/2 Asraru't-Tawhid, pp. 362-67.

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appear reasonably authentic was Baba Tahir54. The major part of his life was spent in the area between Hamadan and Luristan. This region was ruled by the Shi`i Buwayhids /l or Buyids. In 447/1055 when the Saljuq conqueror, Sultan Tughril, entered Hamadan, Baba Tahir was still alive, and is reported to have encountered Tughril, reproaching him saying: 'Oh Turk, how are you going to act towards the Muslims?'/2 In his verses Baba Tahir referred to himself as a wandering dervish (darwish-i qalandar), with no roof over his head, sleeping with a stone for a pillow, constantly harassed by spiritual anxieties.
From his writings Baba Tahir appears to be deeply in sympathy with the realities of life. He admitted that his eyes and heart found it difficult to detach themselves from the things of the world and that his soul was restless.
He cried out :

'Art thou a lion, a panther, Oh my Heart,

thou who are continually struggling with me.

If thou fallest into my hands, I shall spill t

hy blood to see what colour thou art...'

One of Baba Tahir's mystic works, consisting of his Arabic maxims, al-Kalimat al-Qisar (Brief Sayings), has been published. The subjects he deals with are knowledge ('ilm), gnosis (ma`rifa), inspiration and penetration (ilham and firasa), reason and the soul (`aql and nafs), this world and beyond (dunya and `ugba), the musical performance (sama'), recollection (zikr), sincerity and spiritual retreat (ikhlas and i’tikaf). Later authors wrote several Arabic and Persian commentaries on the aphorisms contained in this work. V. Minorsky selected the following examples as an illustration of Baba Tahir's beliefs :

Real knowledge is the intuition after the knowledge of certainty has been acquired ... Ecstasy (wajd) is the loss (of the knowledge) of existing things and is the existence of lost things.'

'He who has been the witness of predestination (coming) from God remains without movement and without volition.'

'He whom ignorance has slain has never lived, he whom the zikr has killed will never die.'/3

/1 The rise of this dynasty synchronized with the establishment of the Samanids in Khurasan ; They first ruled in the Iranian plateau and then in Iraq. The founders of the dynasty came from the Daylamite region of the highlands of Gilan. From 320/932 to 454/1062, they ruled in Iran and Iraq, owing nominal allegiance to the 'Abbasid Caliphs. Mahmud of Ghazna weakened the Buwayhids, but their power was later revived. It was, however, the Saljuq, Tughril, 1038-63, who occupied Baghdad in 447/1055, and claimed to have liberated the Caliph from the overlordship of the Shi'i 'heretics.'

/2 Rawandi, Rahatu's-Sudur, London, 1921, p. 99.

/3 Encyclopaedia of Islam (new edition), 1, p. 841.

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However, the sufi poet whose impact was the greatest during the eleventh century was Khwaja Abu Ismail `Abdu'llah Ansari of Herat. He was born in the Herat citadel on 2 Sha`ban 396/4 May 1006 and died in the same city on 22 Zu'l-hijja 481/8 March 1089. His tomb in Gazirgah, about three miles north-east of Herat was first rebuilt by the Timurid ruler, Shah Rukh, (807/1405-850/1447) about 829/1425 and later was further embellished by other Timurid princes.
Herat, a city on the Hari Rud, in what is now western Afghanistan, then formed part of Khurasan, having submitted to the Arab governor of Khurasan in the middle of the seventh century AD. Strategically located on the trade routes between the Mediterranean Sea and India and China, Herat proved a natural source from which the fame of its leading sufi was to spread widely. Ansari was a trained theologian but after his conversion to sufism, disputes with the 'ulama' resulted in several attempts on his life. Finally his prestige and popularity helped to prevent further attacks. A large number of disciples were attracted to his lectures and he became known as Shaikhu'l-Islam (Leader of the Muslims). He was also known simply as the Pir, or spiritual director, of Herat.
Ansari's works both in prose and poetry, are of great significance amongst sufi literary works. His Manazil al-Sa'irin is more original than Qushairi's Risala. Ansari's Tabaqat al-Sufiyya was a rejuvenated work on Sulami's earlier book on which it was based. Jami's Nafahatu'l-Uns (Whispers of Confidence) was to later incorporate the whole of Harawi's Tabaqat al-Sufiyya and to up-date it. Ansari's short tracts on sufism represented a peak in the expression of sufi asceticism. In these tracts his style was unique; he joined short sentences of rhymed prose, interspersing them with verses, mostly of his own composition. Ansari's Munajat or Invocations, the greatest masterpiece written in Persian, features a conversation between God and a soul. Indeed it is unique in mystic literature. E.G. Browne's translation of a small section from the Munajat is as follows :

O God! Two pieces of iron are taken from one spot, one becomes a horse-shoe and one a king's mirror. O God! Since Thou hadst the Fire of Separation, why didst Thou raise up the Fire of Hell? O God! I fancied that I knew Thee, but now I have cast my fancies into the water. O God! I am helpless and dizzy; I neither know what I have, nor have what I know!'

Here are two quatrains, which have been attributed to Ansari:

'Great shame it is to deem of high degree

Thyself, or over others reckon thee;

Strive to be like the pupil of thine eye--

To see all else, but not thyself to see.'

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'I need no wine nor cup: I'm drunk with Thee;

Thy quarry I, from other snares set free:

In Ka`ba and Pagoda Thee I seek:

Ka`ba, Pagoda, what are these to me?'/1

The following extracts from Jogendra Singh's translation of Ansari's Munajat shows the typical ideas which were crystallizing in the sufi movement during the eleventh century:

'Know that the Prophet built an external Ka`ba

Of Clay and water,

And an inner Ka`ba in life and heart.

The outer Ka`ba was built by Abraham,

The Holy;

The inner is sanctified by the glory of

God Himself.'

'On the path of God

Two places of worship mark the stages.

The material temple,

And the temple of the heart.

Make your best endeavour

To worship at the temple of the heart.'

`Fasting only means the saving of bread,

Formal prayer is the business

Of old men and women,

Pilgrimage is a pleasure of the world.

Conquer the heart,

Its subjection is conquest indeed.'

`If thou canst walk on water

Thou art no better than a straw.

If thou canst fly in air

Thou art no better than a fly.

Conquer thy heart

That thou mayest become somebody.'

'One man spends seventy years in learning

And fails to kindle the light.

Another, all his life learns nothing

And hears one word

And is consumed by that word.'

79

'On this path argument is of no avail;

Seek, and thou mayest find the truth.'

`Helpless in childhood,

Intoxicated in youth,

And decrepit in old age;

Then, O helpless one, when couldst thou

Worship God?"

During the twelfth and thirteenth centuries sufi poetry reached its highest peak in the form of masnawis or narrative poems. The three greatest exponents of this style were the sufi poets Sana'i, 'Attar and Rumi (or Maulawi).
Of these, Abu'l-Majd Majdud Sana'i55, was born in Ghazna, or Balkh in the fifth/eleventh century and believed to have died in Ghazna in 525/ 1130-31. Browne, however, has suggested he died later, around 1150. Early in his career Sana'i was a court poet, competing with a galaxy of other Persian poets who wrote panegyrics to the Ghaznawid sultans. After some time, he relinquished his post, retiring to the life of a dervish.
As a means of expressing his feelings on meditation and the contemplative life, Sana'i used ghazals or couplets. His best-known epic is the Hadigatu'l-Hagiga wa Shari'atu't-Tariqa (The Garden of Truth and Law of the Way), from which a parable was quoted in the beginning of this chapter. Through anecdotes and allegories, Sana'i traced sufi theories on God, Muhammad, reason, gnosis, a carefree trust in God, heaven, philosophy and love. At the same time he related some of his own experiences.
The following extract from a ghazal by Sana'i illustrates the sufi way of expressing love of the Divine.

'That heart which stands aloof from pain and woe

No seal of signature of Love can show :

Thy Love, thy Love I chose, and as for wealth,

If wealth be not my portion, be it so!

For wealth, I ween, pertaineth to the World;

Ne'er can the World and Love together go!

So long as Thou dost dwell within my heart

Ne'er can my heart become the thrall of Woe.'/2

Although Sana'i's work, The Garden of Truth and Law of the Way, was dedicated to Sultan Bahram Shah of Ghazna (1118-52), the author was not hoping for temporal rewards from his ruler. Perso-Islamic

/1 A literary history of Persia, II, p. 70.

/1 The Persian mystics, pp. 35-6.

/2 Literary history of Persia, II, p. 322.

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political theory had made the role of Sultan an indispensable factor in the preservation of social stability and the freedom of Islamic practices. Sana'i was therefore not in a position to ignore his earthly ruler.
Faridu'd-Din Abu Hamid Muhammad `Attar, the second great sufi poet, was originally a pharmacist and medical-practitioner. His dates are the subject of heated disputes amongst scholars. It would seem that he was born in 537/1142-43, either in Nishapur or its neighbourhood, that he lived mostly in Nishapur and that he died there in 617/1220, the year the Mongols invaded the town.
`Attar was a prolific writer. Modern scholars have shown that during this period there were two writers called `Attar in Nishapur, and a large number of works ascribed to Faridu'd-Din `Attar were in fact written by the other `Attar. However, the books which have authoritatively been ascribed to Faridu'd-Din are also extensive. The most important of these are a collection of masnawis, a diwan of ghazals and his famous compilation of the biographies of various leading sufis, entitled the Tazkiratu'l-Auliya', `Attar's ghazals are highly ecstatic in flavour.
The anecdotes in `Attar's masnawis were intended to call attention to mystical ideas on the acquisition of self knowledge and the attainment of fana'. One of his most famous masnawis, the Mantiqu't-Tayr (Conference of Birds), deals with the quest of a flock of birds for a mythical entity, the Simurgh or `Phoenix.' The birds symbolize sufi pilgrims, while the Simurgh is God or the Truth. Under the guidance of a leader, the birds embark on a perilous journey. Their path is blocked by seven dangerous valleys : Quest, Love, Mystic-Knowledge, Detachment, Unification, Bewilderment and Fulfilment in Annihilation. Of the many different species, only thirty birds reach their goal. The survivors discover the Simurgh, at the same time finding themselves and becoming emerged with the divine Simurgh through annihilation. The end of `Attar's Masnawi describes the sufi conception of annihilation in God (fana' fi'llah). In Browne's translation it reads this way :

`Through trouble and shame the souls of these birds were reduced

to utter Annihilation, while their bodies became dust.

Being thus utterly purified of all, they all received Life

from the Light of the (Divine) Presence.

Once again they became servants with souls renewed ;

once again in another way were they overwhelmed with astonishment.

Their ancient deeds and undeeds were cleansed away

and annihilated from their bosoms.

The Sun of Propinquity shone forth from them;

the souls of all of them were illuminated by its rays.

Through the reflection of the faces of these thirty birds (si-murgh) of

the world they then beheld the countenance of the Simurgh.

When they looked, that was the Simurgh:

without doubt that Simurgh was those thirty birds (si-murgh).

All were bewildered with amazement, not knowing

whether they were this or that.

They perceived themselves to be naught else but the Simurgh,

while the Simurgh was naught else than the thirty birds (si-murgh).

When they looked towards the Simurgh,

it was indeed the Simurgh which was there;

While when they looked towards themselves

they were si-murgh (thirty birds), and that was the Simurgh;

And if they looked at both together,

both were the Simurgh, neither more nor less.

This one was that, and that one this;

the like of this hath no one heard in the world.

All of them were plunged in amazement,

and continued thinking without thought.

Since they understood naught of any matter,

without speech they made enquiry of the Presence.

They besought the disclosure of this deep mystery,

and demanded the solution of we-ness and thou-ness.

Without speech came the answer from that Presence,

saying: 'This Sun-like Presence is a Mirror.'

Whosoever enters it sees himself in It,

in It he sees body and soul, soul and body.

Since ye came hither thirty birds (si-murgh),

ye appeared as thirty in this Mirror.

Should forty or fifty birds come,

they too would discover themselves.

Though many more had been added to your numbers,

ye yourselves see, and it is yourself you have looked on.'/1

In the Masnawi of Jalalu'd-Din Rumi, mystic poetry was to reach its greatest heights. The third of the outstanding sufi poets, like the others, Sana'i and `Attar, Rumi was both a mystic and a poet. He was also known by the name Maulana or Mevlana. Jalalu'd-Din Rumi was born at Balkh in Rabi` I 604/September 1207, his father Baha'u'd-Din Walad, was a preacher who, in 614/1217 was forced to emigrate from Balkh because of friction with Khwarazm-Shah. The reasons for this were probably both political and religious. In 626/1228, the family settled in Quniya. Baha'u'd-Din died there three years later.
To further his education, Jalalu'd-Din visited Aleppo and Damascus, but his main interest was sufism. In 642/1244 Shamsu'd-Din Muhammad Tabrizi, the wandering dervish, visited Quniya. Jalalu'd-Din fell deeply in love with Shamsu'd-Din, finding in him the perfect image of the

/1 A literary history of Persia, II, pp. 514-15.

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Divine Beloved, and took him into his home. There Jalalu'd-Din's love was channelled into the spiritual satisfaction of writing poetry, and his new-found obsession unwittingly resulted in the large-scale neglect of his own disciples. Learning of a conspiracy by these disciples to have him killed, Shamsu'd-Din fled to Damascus in 643/1246. He was brought back to Quniya, however, by Sultan Walad, Jalalu'd-Din's son, and in 645/1247 was secretly murdered by Jalalu'd-Din's disciples and members of his family, his body later being thrown down a well. Grief-stricken at his loved one's absence, and ignorant of his death, Jalalu'd-Din went twice to Damascus. After a fruitless search, he poured his loss and anguish into ecstatic poetry, in which he finally managed to re-discover both his lost Beloved and his own peace of mind. Jalalu'd-Din Rumi died in Quniya in Jumada II, 672/December, 1273.
During his lifetime, Rumi invented the famous whirling dance through which dervishes could achieve ecstasy. This was accompanied by lamenting reed pipes and beating drums. The order he founded was known as the Mevlevi or the Mawlawiyya, and its outstanding feature was its dancing dervishes. The order became significant in Turkey; in 1332 when Ibn Battuta visited Quniya he found it flourishing under the name, Jalaliyya./l The devotion of members of the order to music and dancing is responsible for their being known in Europe as 'whirling dervishes.'
Jalalu'd-Din's Diwan contains ghazals and ruba`is. A large number of ghazals have the name Shams or Shams-i Tabriz as their takhallus or nom de plume. The dominant theme in the Diwan is the ecstatic love of God. But Jalalu'd-Din's real masterpiece was his Masnawi, which was divided into six books and contains about 26,660 couplets. It was begun after urgings from the Mawlana's favourite disciple, Husamu'd-Din Chelebi. The verses were dictated by Jalalu'd-Din whenever he was in the grip of ecstasy—sometimes while he was dancing, sometimes while he was sitting or walking. On occasions he would dictate all night.
There is no clear structure in the Masnawi. The stories are interspersed with mystical ideals and sufi didactics. Overall, the diction is spontaneous and informal, yet the tales betray a serious note. A story of God's rebuke to Moses for his indignation at the rough idiom invoked by a lowly shepherd during prayer may give some insight into the spirit contained in Rumi's great work.

'A revelation came to Moses from God—

"Thou hast parted My servant from Me."

Didst thou come (as a prophet) to unite or

didst thou come to sever?

So far as thou canst, do not set foot in separation ;

of all things the most hateful to Me is divorce.

/1 Travels of Ibn Battuta, tr. by H.A.R. Gibb, 11, London, 1962, p. 431.

I have bestowed on every one a (special) way of acting;

I have given to everyone a (peculiar) form of expression.

In regard to him it is (worthy of) praise, and

in regard to him honey, and in regard to thee poison.

I am independent of all purity and impurity,

of all slothfulness and alacrity (in worshipping Me).

I did not ordain (divine worship) that I might make any profit ;

nay, but that I might do a kindness to (My) servants.

In the Hindoos the idiom of Hind (India) is praiseworthy;

in the Sindians the idiom of Sind is praiseworthy.

I am not sanctified by their glorification (of Me) ;

'tis they that become sanctified and pearl-scattering

(pure and radiant).

I look not at the tongue and the speech;

I look at the inward (spirit) and the state (of feeling)./1

The Silsilas

The twelfth century saw the crystallization of the new silsilas, or orders, as chains of lineages through which different sufis could be traced. The establishment of silsilas placed sufism on a firm and organized basis, and at the same time, was an attempt to make the movement more meaningful to individual sufis. It connected them with a spiritual hierarchy, thus giving sufis greater respectability and a stronger base of defence against the onslaught of the orthodox.
The founders of the silsilas in the twelfth century linked themselves with Muhammad through either 'Ali or Abu Bakr, but generally through the former. In spite of some serious differences over the question of orthodoxy, the main emphasis of the silsilas was on continual meditation of the verses of the Qur'an and on different names of Allah. Gradually many sufi sayings were intermingled with the traditions of Muhammad.
Influences, such as Neo-Platonism, the monastic tradition of Buddhism and Christianity, and Vedantist and Yogic philosophy were all Islamized by members of silsilas in such a way as to make them virtually unidentifiable. Moreover, sufis in these orders transformed mystical exercises, which they used to achieve union with God, into an organized framework. There were many innovations, all aimed towards making the Tariqa or path of sufism, more effective to its followers. Each silsila devised its own method or school of guidance as well as its own rituals and ceremonies. Later generations were to follow these rules rigidly.
Although the charisma of the early founders of the silsilas and an adherence to strict discipline, helped to curb charlatanism and anti-

/1 R.A. Nicholson (translator), The Mathnawi of Jalal ud-din Rami, II, London, 1926, pp. 311-12.

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nomian tendencies, the sufi movement in all parts of the Islamic world tended to become a legalistic system, obsessed with authoritarianism. Only within conventional forms could personal and individual enlightenment be expressed. Poetry alone offered an outlet for the expression of individualistic mystical experiences.
From the twelfth to the end of the fourteenth centuries, the sufi silsilas served in Iran as a bulwark against the pessimism aroused by the onslaught of the Ghuzz and the Mongols. They re-orientated religious life away from strict and often meaningless formalities. However their passivity and serenity did not become inertia. Only in their later degenerate state were some silsilas extravagant and demoralized. The members of the degenerate silsilas instituted saint worship, which precipitated a high degree of gullibility regarding the miraculous powers of different saints. The repetition of zikr became artificial; music and stylized dances, designed to produce ecstasy, were reduced to entertainment. Sufism became a popular cult, its poetic inspiration lost creativity and the mystical concept of love became sexual. However, at times these aspects of sufism were rejuvenated by far-sighted and genuinely spiritual directors. The history of the silsilas is thus marked by the perennial rise and fall of true spirituality.
The most popular silsilas in the East were based in Baghdad, Iran, Khurasan and Transoxiana. Many important founders of orders in Baghdad were Iranis who had been greatly influenced by the Baghdadi system of mystic legalism. These men absorbed the main features of the earlier sufi schools of sufism, at the same time relegating them into the background through the development of new frameworks of their own.
The founder of the Qadiriyya silsila was Shaikh 'Abdu'l-Qadir Jilani56. 'Abdu'l-Qadir was born in 470/1077-78 in the village of Jilan, south of the Caspian Sea. His father Abi Salih Jangi Dust was also an Irani. When eighteen years of age, 'Abdu'l-Qadir migrated to Baghdad. There he studied law, Hadis, and philology under a number of eminent scholars. His interest in sufism was sparked off by Abu'l-Khair Hammad al-Dabbas who died in 523/1129, however, he obtained his khirga from al-Mukharrimi.
Before appearing as a public preacher at Baghdad in 521/1127, Shaikh 'Abdu'l-Qadir spent about twenty-five years as a wandering dervish, the last eleven, in complete seclusion. After this, Shaikh 'Abdu'l-Qadir succeeded al-Mukharrimi as head of a seminary in Baghdad. He became highly popular as a theologian, rather than as a sufi. He himself managed to combine the life of the madrasa with that of the khangah. At fifty-one he married. The rest of his life Shaikh 'Abdu'l-Qadir divided between Baghdad and Jil, a small town between Baghdad and Wasit.
The collections of the Shaikh's sermons, al Fath al-Rabbani, comprising sixty-two of them and the Futuh al-Ghaib, containing seventy-eight
85
sermons, are well known to Islamic readers. His writings present Shaikh `Abdu'l-Qadir as a sober preacher who avoided sufi terminology and moralized in simple, coherent language. He strongly condemned the materialistic life of his contemporaries, urging them to develop a balanced personality by adhering to both their material and spiritual well-being. A jihad fought against self-will was, to Shaikh `Abdu'l-Qadir, far superior to that waged with the sword. Through this struggle the idolatry of the self and the worship of created things (the hidden shirk) could be vanquished. Developing the idea of crushing desire, in a sermon Shaikh `Abdu'l-Qadir advised his audience that seekers of God had to be indifferent towards even the life hereafter and to cultivate pleasure only in the thought of annihilation and abiding poverty in this life./1 In further sermons he said that good and evil were two fruits emerging from two branches of a single tree. One of the branches yielded sweet fruit and the other bitter; it would be wise therefore for people to move to areas where the sweet fruit were to be found.
Like Shaikh Abu Said, Shaikh `Abdu'l-Qadir believed that the ideal sufi was not a recluse but a man involved in the world, giving example to others. Obedience to religious law was the first stage of a spiritual development leading to piety. The state of reality, equivalent to that of saintliness (wilaya), was the second stage. At such a stage the saint protected himself from all sins including those which were hidden and obeyed his inner voice. The third stage was that of resignation, in which the saint completely surrendered to God. The fourth and final stage was fana' which was achieved, Shaikh `Abdul-Qadir believed in the form of a pure union, accompanied by knowledge./2
The expansion of the Qadiriyya order was very slow; in many part of the Islamic world, the legends associated with Shaikh `Abdu'l-Qadir played an important role in its development. His eminence was enshrined in the belief that he was superior to everyone of God's saints./3 The legendary life of Shaikh `Abdu'l-Qadir is filled with incomprehensible miracles and supernatural feats. He is alleged td have crushed mountains, dried up oceans and raised the dead to life. It is claimed that a large number of Jews and Christians embraced Islam through the influence of his spiritual prowess. Magical and esoteric teachings were also associated with Shaikh `Abdu'l-Qadir Jilani and such practices form an integral part of the beliefs of the Javanese Qadiris who, even today, perform supernatural feats accompanied by beating drums57. Whatever his alleged

/1 Mehmmed Ali Aini and E.J. Simore Munir, Abd-AI-Kadir Gilani, Paris, 1967, pp. 20-35: D.S. Margoliouth, Contributions to the biography of 'Abd al-Kadir, after al-Zahabi's work, JRAS, 1907, pp. 267-316.

/2`Abd al-Qadir, Futuh al-Ghaib, with a Persian commentary by Shaikh 'Abdu'l-Haqq, Lucknow, 1881; Discourses, pp. 17-8, 40, 46.

/3 He is reported to have said: 'My foot is on the neck of every saint of God.'

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supramundane powers, Shaikh `Abdu'l-Qadir died an earthly death in 561/1166./1
Towards the end of the eleventh century, Abu Hamid bin Muhammad al Ghazali Tusi's brother, Ahmad al-Ghazali; was in Baghdad making his mark as a sufi teacher. In '488/1095 Shaikh Ahmad succeeded his brother as a professor at the Nizamiyya seminary in Baghdad, but unlike his brother, Shaikh Ahmad's overwhelming concern was for a life of mysticism. Initiated into sufism in Tus by Abu `Ali al-Farmazi, Ahmad al-Ghazali's sermons attracted large audiences. These were compiled into a two-volume work, of which only extracts survive. Like the martyr Hallaj, Shaikh Ahmad, defended the monotheism of Iblis. Later in his life he migrated to Qazwin where he died in 520/1126./2
Among Ahmad's disciples, the best known was Shaikh Ziya'u'd-Din Abu'n-N ib as-Suhrawardi. He was born in 490/1097 at Suhraward, to the west of Sultaniya, in the province of al-Jibal (the Mountains). The Greeks called this province, stretching from the Mesopotamian plains on the west to the great desert of Iran, Media. From the ninth century, the province became known as Iraq `Ajami or Iranian Iraq, as distinct from the Iraq of the Arabs in Lower Mesopotamia. In Suhrawardi's youth, the fame of Shaikh Ahmad al-Ghazali prompted him to migrate to Baghdad to become his disciple. At a ruined site on the bank of the Tigris, Abu'n-Najib built a khanqah. He wrote a work in Arabic, the Adab al-Muridin, which a number of Indian sufis later translated into Persian. Shaikh Abu'n-Najib died in 563/1168./3
Among the contemporaries of Shaikh Abu'n-Najib, and a disciple of Shaikh Ahmad al-Ghazali, was the sufi martyr, Abu'l-Ma'ali `Abdu'llah ibn Abi Bakr Muhammad ibn `Ali ibn al-Hasan ibn al-Miyanji, better known as `Ainu'l-Quzat of Hamadan. Born in 492/1098, 'Ainu'l-Quzat's family were originally natives of Miyana in Azerbaijan, a town between Maragha and Tabriz. His grandfather seems to have migrated to Hamadan, in central Iran, and both `Ainu'l-Quzat's grandfather and father were highly educated and held posts as qazis. In his youth, `Ainu'l-Quzat exchanged his life of affluence for that of a sufi engaged in writing mystical poetry and prose. Ahmad al-Ghazali became `Ainu'l-Quzat's teacher, and they exchanged correspondence until the former's death in 520/1126.
Both Ahmad al-Ghazali and `Ainu'l-Quzat belonged to the Junaid school of sufism. Contrary to the Junaid's tradition of sahw (sobriety),

/1 G.W.J. Drewes, De mirakelen van Abdoelkadir Djaelani, door G.W.J. Drewes, and I'octbatjaraka, Bandoeng, 1938; A summary of contents, in places amounting to almost a complete translation of the Javanese version of Hikayat Abdul-Qadir Jilani which is based on al-Yafe'i's Arabic Khulasat al-Mafakhir.

/2 For his biography see al-Subki, Al-Tabayat al-Sufiyya, Cairo, 1324/1906-07, IV, 54; 11m K1uallikan, IV, p. 54.

/3 Ibn Khallikan, I, pp. 535-36; Subki, IV, pp. 256-57; NU, p. 417.

	87
however, they were both given to sukr (mystic intoxication). `Ainu'l-Quzat excelled his preceptor and became a totally rapt mystic. His writings aroused orthodox fury and he was thrown into prison in Baghdad by the Saljuqid vizier of Iran, al-Dargazini. There `Ainu'l-Quzat wrote a short treatise in his own defence, which has been translated into English by A.J. Arberry and called Apologia. He argued that his doctrine of fana' was neither pantheism nor incarnationism (hulul) as it merely involved the passing away of the contingent being into God's Being. He affirmed that his writings were not different to those of earlier sufis but were founded on those of the orthodox Abu Hamid al-Ghazali. His arguments, however, failed to save his life. On 6-7 Jumada II, 525/6-7 May 1131, `Ainu'l-Quzat was martyred at the age of thirty-three.
During his lifetime a large number of disciples had gathered around `Ainu'l-Quzat, but the order he founded did not long survive. His works, however, were regarded as the epitome of sufi truth, the most popular being the Tamhidat (Introduction). Following are some challenging passages, translated by A.J. Arberry :

'That mad lover whom you call Iblis in this world—do you not know by what name he is called in the divine world? If you know his name, by calling him by that name you know yourself an unbeliever. Alas, what do you hear? This mad one loved God. Do you know what came as the touchstone of his love? One, affliction and oppression ; two, reproach and humiliation. They said, "You lay claim to love Us. There must be a token." They offered him the touchstone of affliction and oppression, of reproach and humiliation. He accepted. Immediately these two touchstones bore witness that the token of love is truthfulness. Will you never understand what I am saying? In love there must be cruelty, and there must be fidelity, so that the lover may be ripened by the kindness and oppression of the Beloved ; else he will remain immature, and nothing will come from him.’/1

The founder of the Suhrawardiyya order, however, was Shaikh Abu'n-Najib's nephew, Shaikh Shihabu'd-Din Abu Hafs al-Suhrawardi. This order spread throughout many parts of the Islamic world and became one of the two most significant orders of  in India.
Shaikh Shihabu'd-Din Suhrawardi was born in Rajab 539/January 1145. He learnt theology from Shaikh `Abdu'l-Qadir Jilani and a number of other prominent theologians, but was initiated into sufism by his uncle. As a youth Shihabu'd-Din encountered vigorous opposition from the greatest Hanbali theologian in Baghdad, Abdu'r-Rahman ibn al-Jawzi (510/1126-597/1200), who was also an interpreter of Fidh and a defender of Hadis. This prolific author and preacher enjoyed the total support of

/1 A.J. Arberry, A Sufi martyr, London, 1969, p. 100.

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many of the successive `Abbasid Caliphs and was given by them what amounted virtually to inquisitorial powers. Ibn al-Jawzi /1 accused Shaikh `Abdu'l-Qadir Jilani of furthering the cause of philosophy and heresy. Of his works Naqd al- Ilm wa'l- `ulama' and Talbis Iblis, translated as 'The Devil's Delusion' by Margoliouth, not only condemned non-Sunni sects but attacked a large number of Sunni jurisconsults, traditionalists and sufis including Abu Talib al-Makki, Qushairi and Ghazali.
Caliph al-Nasir (575/1179-622/1225) reversed the policy of blind support for Ibn al-Jawzi, and this resulted in a new middle-of-the road policy as outlined by Shaikh Shihabu'd-Din Suhrawardi. The Caliph despatched the Shaikh as his ambassador to the courts of the `Ayyubid al-Malik al-`Adil I Saifu'd-Din (596/1200-615/1218) in Egypt, of the Khwarazm-Shah, `Ala'u'd-Din Muhammad (596/1200-617/1220) and of the Saljuq ruler of Quniya, `Ala'u'd-Din Kay-Qubaz I (616/1219-634/ 1237). Al-Nasir also built an extensive khanqah for Shaikh Shihabu'd-Din and his family, which included additions such as a bath-house and a garden.
The Shaikh's travels also included journeys to prominent sufi centres in Iran, Khurasan, Transoxiana, Syria and Turkey. He made several pilgrimages to Mecca, and died in 632/1234-35.2
During his lifetime the Shaikh wrote several books. The most popular was the Awarifu'l-Ma'arif. This work marks a watershed in the reconciliation of sufism with orthodoxy. To later generations of sufis it became the most closely studied text on sufism. `Izzu'd-Din Mahmud bin `Ali of Kashan (d. 753/1352-53) wrote a book called the Misbahu 'l-Hidaya wa Miftahu'l-Kifaya in Persian based on the Awarifu'l-Ma`arif, which he rearranged slightly and to which he added some new material.
In the `Awarifu'l-Ma'arif, Suhrawardi corrects Sarraj who had tried to prove that the word `sufi' was used in pre-Islamic Arabic./3 According to Suhrawardi the word was the product of a period of political change and unrest. On etymological grounds he rejects the idea that the word was derived from suffa but accepts the fact that the life of Muhammad's companions at the Medina mosque, 'the People of the Verandah,' resembled those of later sufis. He makes an interesting reference to a class of Khurasan sufis who lived in caves and were called Shikaftiyyah (from the word shikaft, cave). His description implies that that particular mode of life was based on the life-pattern of a section of Buddhist monks./4 Derivation of the word sufi from suf (wool), meaning those who wore a woollen garment was, according to him, affirmed by the Prophet.

/1 For his works see Mu'allafat Iba ul-Jawzi by 'Abdu'l-Hamid al-'Aluji, Baghdad, 1385/1965; Brockelmann, I, 656-66 and Supplement, 1, 914-20

/2 For his biography see Ibn Khallikan, II, no. 95; NU, p. 472; Jalalu'd-Din Huma'i, Mishahu'l-Hidaya, pp. 28-32

/3 al-Sarraj, Kitab al-Luma', London, 1963, p. 22.

/4 Shihabu'd-Din Suhrawardi, `Awari al-Ma'arif, on the margin of Ihya al-'Ulum, 1, Cairo, 1957, pp. 326-36.

89
Using Qur'anic verses to support his theory, Suhrawardi shows that knowledge, not in the legalistic exoteric sense, but in the spiritual esoteric sense, is the basis of sufism. He applies the Qur'anic term of Al Rasikhun fi al-Ilm (Those Firmly Rooted in Knowledge) to those whose hearts have a total perception of the Truth. This knowledge cannot be learnt in school but is a legacy from the prophets and can be acquired only from them. To Suhrawardi, sufis were divided into two categories: the first were those whose mystical insight was framed around their own spiritual perception; the second consisted of those whose supernatural enlightenment was the result of their own self-mortification./1 He quoted Junaid saying that what leads to sufism is not reason and intellectual discussion but hunger, renunciation and abstention from even that which was lawful.
In the `Awarifu'l-Ma`arif, however, Shaikh Shihabu'd-Din reminded sufis that the mystic Tariqa was not identical to either faqr (poverty) or zuhd (asceticism), although these could lead to fana'. To him an obsessive opposition to wealth was a sign of weakness, amounting to a dependence on causation and an attachment to the anticipation of reward. A true sufi did not differentiate between poverty and wealth and was concerned with neither fear nor the need for recompense./2 58
Like other orthodox sufis, the Shaikh considered people misguided who believed that gnosis absolved them from a need to obey Shari'a. The law and Haqiqa (Reality) were interdependent. Similarly Shaikh Shihabu'd-Din Suhrawardi condemned sufis who, following the analogy of the divine and human aspects of Christ's personality, believed in the doctrine of incarnation (hulul). Sufis who spoke of submerging themselves into the ocean of Divine Unity, said the Shaikh, were misdirected. Precedence should be given to fulfilling the divine will.
Discussing the Qur'anic verse: 'They will ask thee concerning the Spirit. Say : The Spirit is by command of my Lord, and of knowledge ye have been vouchsafed but little,'/3 Suhrawardi said that the spirit is neither eternal nor subsistent, but created and an attribute of God. The animal spirit of man was connected with the digestive organism of the body but the heavenly spirit belonged to the world of command. When it overpowered the baser spirit it transmuted the second nature of the latter and the two were fused; human beings were then able to receive divine inspiration./4
According to the`Awarifu'l-Ma'arif, all immoral activities emanated from the lower self (nafs), and reason and patience controlled its natural impulses such as rage and lust. The desire for evil (ammara), repentance

/1 Shihabu'd-Din Suhrawardi, 'Awarif al-Ma'arif, on the margin of 1/iva (1/-'Glum, IV, Cairo, 1957, pp. 202-68.

/2 ibid, II, pp. 356-59.

/3 Qur'an, XVII, 85.

/4 'Awarifu'l Ma'arif, 1V, pp. 255-65.

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(lawwama) and satisfaction (mutma`ina) represented three different stages in the development and gradual purification of the nafs.
The heart (galb), Suhrawardi believed was different to the rest of the human body although it was a part of it. The heart of a true believer (mu'min) was like a pure soul and was illuminated by a shining light; but the heart of the unbeliever, said the Shaikh, was dark and made of a lowly substance. The heart of the hypocrite was shrouded in a veil, and a many-faceted heart was one which was inclined towards both good and evil./1
Reason, to Suhrawardi, was an innate human talent which prompted man to acquire different kinds of knowledge. It was supplemented and supported by Shari’a. Spiritual perception helped man to adopt a middle-of-the road policy and obtain knowledge of the heavenly spheres (malakut). Thus one could acquire an understanding of the world of matter and space, as well as of the earthly world and the Unseen. If reason was not supported and supplemented by the light of Islamic law, man could prosper in the world, but not obtain blessings from the spiritual world.
Only true mystics, believed Suhrawardi, were able to discriminate between experiences emanating from the lower soul, from God, from Satan and from the angels. One dependant on an impure source for their existence was always a victim of evil influences; it was, therefore, a sufi's duty to foster a balanced detachment from the material world, to mortify the flesh and to constantly observe ascetic practices./2
State (hal) and stage (maqam) were two technical terms of sufism which should not be confused, said the Shaikh. State involved a changing psychological condition, while stage was relatively permanent. For example, in the beginning a novice adopted an attitude of meditation. This however, was not a permanent feature of his mystic journey but a state of hal. When an attitude of contemplation became an enduring feature the neophyte reached the second stage. He then passed to the third stage which was observation (mushahada). This enabled him to understand the secrets of the spiritual world. Both divine grace and personal effort played complementary roles in progress towards the true mystic state./3
Suhrawardi made a detailed criticism of fana' and baqa' thus clarifying the prevailing confusion amongst sufis. The first stage of fana' was an obvious one. In it the mystic felt he possessed no freedom of action or choice as everything emanated from God. The second was the stage of real annihilation involving a perception of receiving illumination from the divine attribute and His Essence. At this stage the divine command dominated him to such a degree that no evil influence could affect him.

/1 Awarifu'l Ma'arif, 1V, pp. 266-69.

/2 ibid, pp. 197-250.

/3 ibid, pp. 281-98.

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It was not essential that in the state of fana', mystics lost all consciousness. With the acquisition of the state of baqa' (abiding in God) a sufi regained his power of action; he could then perform duties for the earthly and the spiritual worlds with equanimity. Persistent self-examination, introversion, contemplation, patience, submission to God's will and an attitude of complete detachment enabled a mystic to practise self-mortification. In reality this process was one of self-purification, and a second birth from the womb of the spirit to the kingdom of a newly-awakened spirit.'
The most important section of the `Awarifu'l-Ma`arif by Shaikh Shihabu'd-Din Suhrawardi was a detailed discussion of sufi ethics and the mystic ways of life. This section was a marked improvement over related chapters in Hujwiri's Kashf al-Mahjub; Suhrawardi could make an outstanding contribution on this very important subject for by the twelfth century khanqah life was at its highest peak.
Suhrawardi admitted that the establishment of khanqahs was an innovation, but saw in them the germs of the suffa life at the time of Muhammad. He believed that the advantages of established khanqahs were great59. Firstly, they offered board and lodging to sufis who were often without financial resources of any kind. Secondly, the corporate life of a khanqah provided an opportunity for individual members who shared a close relationship to exchange views and experiences. Finally, the propinquity of life in a khanqah provided for a healthy rivalry between sufis in the perfection of their morals and conduct. Like Hujwiri, Suhrawardi divided the people of khanqahs into two : residents and travellers. According to the Shaikh, the latter, generally wandering dervishes, should reach the khanqah before afternoon prayers, and if late, should spend the night in a mosque. A warm welcome to the visitor should be extended by the residents and the best food offered to them by the khanqah steward. The travellers should not be pestered with questions, although resident sufis should themselves answer all queries. If a dervish entered who was ignorant of khanqah customs and the traditions of sufi life, he should not be expelled.
Khanqah residents were of three types. The first group contained members of the novice or servant class who were assigned to such duties as waiting on others, which enabled them to become acquainted with the company of mystics and to be initiated in humility. Service enabled novices to rise to the second group of mystics who learnt the social ethics of sufism. Members of the third category were aged sufis, generally living in seclusion, who were entirely dedicated to prayers and meditation. In a khanqah, the young should live communally in the lama'at-khana, allowing older sufis to reside privately in cells. According to Shaikh Shihabu'd-Din there were two sources of income for a khanqah—endowments and begging.

/1 'Awarifu'l Ma'arif, IV, pp. 455-65.

[figure:] Sufi Sama from the M'alalisw'l-`Ushshaq' by Sultan Husain written in 908/1502-03. Miniature from Bodleian MS. dated 959/1552, Ouseley Add 24, f. 119 R.

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The head of the khanqah was the Shaikh, the others were the ikhwan or brethren. Inmates should co-operate and take food communally. Differences between sufis should be overcome and there should be no hypocrisy in relationships, for a true mystic constantly sought a pure heart, undarkened by malice./1
Shaikh Suhrawardi believed the periodic retirement of sufis to retreats to be a later innovation, but considered the custom of great assistance in self-examination and meditation. He divided recluses into three : the weakest, who broke their fasts every evening; the above average sufi who took nourishment on alternate nights and the strongest, who ate only on the third./2
Shaikh Shihabu'd-Din admitted that the wearing of the khirqa or sufi robe was also an accretion, but saw it as a symbol of the radical aspect of sufi life. According to him, it identified the wearer as one who was outside the mainstream of life, who did not indulge in fine raiment and rich food. As sufism was founded on a belief in the transmission of wilaya or saintship, the granting of a khirqa was significant for it was a sign that the recipient had, according to his pir, reached a satisfactory religious standard.
The granting of a khirqa was categorized by Shaikh Shihabu'd-Din as: one awarded in recognition of a disciple's personal spiritual achievement or one given by a Shaikh to a person seeking the blessings which surrounded it. There was no necessity for those in the second group to be sufi disciples, but they should at least observe the Shari'a and keep company with sufis. After the receipt of a khirqa the blessings accrued from it might lead to a total acceptance of the mystic path./3
On the controversial subject of sama', the Shaikh was lengthy. Conflicting views of sama' (literally, 'audition'), from different sufis were detailed by him in the'Awarifu'l-Ma'arif. Overall, the Shaikh supported the practice, but prescribed its performance under strict rules, to prevent a degeneration into the use of music and dancing to promote licentiousness./4 However, the Shaikh was unable to excel Hujwiri's unique means of defending sama' who says:

'In short, all foot-play (pay-haze) is bad in law and reason, by whomsoever it is practised, and the best of mankind cannot possibly practise it; but when the heart throbs with exhilaration and rapture becomes intense and the agitation of ecstasy is manifested and

/1 Awarfu'l Ma'arif; 1V, pp. 80-99.

/2 ibid, pp. 310-32.

/3 'Awarif ul Ma'arif, II, pp. 42-62.

/4 ibid, pp. 220-79. For some important views on the subject see Qushairi, Al-Rasa'il al-Qushairirya, Karachi, 1964, pp. 50-65; D.B. Macdonald, 'Emotional religion in Islam as affected by music and singing,' JRAS, 1901, pp. 195-252,705-48; 1902, pp. 1-28.

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conventional forms are gone, that agitation (iztirab) is neither dancing nor foot-play nor bodily indulgence, but a dissolution of the soul. Those who call it "dancing" are utterly wrong. It is a state that cannot be explained in words: "without experience no knowledge."/1

The fame of Shaikh Shihabu'd-Din was matched only by that of Abu'l-Jannab Ahmad bin 'Umar al-Khiwaqi, better known as Najmu'd-Din Kubra60. A galaxy of sufis surrounded him as disciples and a number of branches of his order, the Kubrawiyya, spread to Baghdad, Khurasan and India. The two Indian branches were the Firdawsiyya and the Hamadaniyya; the Baghdadi branch was the Nuriyya and the Khurasani branches were the Rukniyya, the Ightishashiyya and the Nurbakhshiyya. Shaikh Abu'l-Jannab Ahmad has aptly been called 'the Carver of Saints' (Shaikh-i Wali Tarash)./2
Shaikh Najmu'd-Din Kubra was born in Khwarazm in 540/1145-46. In his youth he left Khwarazm for Hamadan to study Hadis, a traditional pursuit for one who planned to become an 'alim. Later he went to Tabriz and Alexandria also to study Hadis but there he had a spiritual experience which led him to adopt sufism. Shaikh Najmu'd-Din went to Khuzistan and became the disciple of Shaikh Isma'il Qasri (d. 589/1193). On his preceptor's advice, Najmu'd-Din later entered into the discipleship of Shaikh `Ammar ibn Yasir al-Bidlisi (died about 597/1200-01), a friend of Abu'n-Najib Suhrawardi. Shaikh Kubra then went to Cairo, completing his final course in sufi discipline under Shaikh Ruzbihan al-Wazzan of Kazirun (d. 584/1188) and married Ruzbihan's daughter.
The genealogy of Shaikh Kubra's pirs begins with `Ali and his disciple Kumail bin Ziyad, and ends with Shaikh Ismail Qasri. It is noteworthy that his pirs were either companions of Abu'n-Najib Suhrawardi or his disciples.
Kubra finally settled in Khwarazm where he built a khanqah. Among his disciples there, the most eminent were Majdu'd-Din Baghdadi, (died either in 606/1209-10 or in 616/1219-20), -`Attar's pir, Sa`dud'd-Din Hamawi (d. 650/1253), the author of several works on sufism, Najmu'd-Din Daya (d. 654/1256), who wrote the famous sufi book, the Mirsadu'l 'Ibad (Watch Tower of God's Servants). A unique personality among Kubra's disciples was Saifu'd-Din Bakharzi, who will be dealt with more fully in Chapter Three.

/1 Nicholson, p. 416. / 2NU, p. 419.

In 618/1221, the Mongol invasion of Khwarazm took a great toll of life, including that of Shaikh Kubra. Jami gives the following graphic account of his death :

'When the Tartar heathen reached Khwarazm, the Shaikh assembled

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his disciples, whose number exceeded sixty. Sultan Muhammad Khwarazm-Shah had fled, but the Tartar heathen supposed him to be still in Khwarazm, whither consequently they marched. The Shaikh summoned certain of his disciples, such as Shaikh Sa`du'd-Din Hamawi, Raziu'd-Din `Ali Lala and others, and said, "Arise quickly and depart to your own countries, for a Fire is kindled from the East which consumes nearly to the West ... Some of his disciples said, "How would it be if your Holiness were to pray that perhaps this (catastrophe) may be averted from the lands of Islam .. "Nay," replied the Shaikh, "this is a thing irrevocably predetermined which prayer cannot avert." Then his disciples besought him, saying, "The beasts are ready prepared for the journey: if your Holiness also would join us and depart into Khurasan, it would not be amiss." "Nay," replied the Shaikh, "here shall I die a martyr, for it is not permitted to me to go forth." So his disciples departed into Khurasan.

So when the heathen entered the city, the Shaikh called together such of his disciples as remained, and said, "Arise in God's Name, and let us fight in God's Cause." Then he entered his house, put on his khirqa ... girded up his loins, filled the upper part of his khirqa, which was open in front, with stones on both sides, took a spear in his hand, and came forth. And when he came face to face with the heathen, he continued to cast stones at them till he had no stones left. The heathen fired volleys of arrows at him, and an arrow pierced his breast. He plucked it out and cast it away, and therewith passed away his spirit. They say that at the moment of his martyrdom he had grasped the pigtail of one of the heathen, which after his death could not be removed from his hand, until at last they were obliged to cut it off.' /1

Najmu'd-Din Kubra would often repeat such sayings of famous sufis as: 'The ways of God are as numerous as the number of breaths of his creatures.' He wrote several works in Arabic and Persian. Al-Usul al-`Ashra, in Arabic, outlines the ten guiding rules of sufism: repentance, renunciation, trust in God, resignation, seclusion, recollection, concentration on God, patience and contemplation; the final stage, (riza), implies the abandonment of self and the seeking of all happiness in anything emanating from the Beloved. The Si fatu'1-Adab, written in Persian, contains rules for the sufi neophyte. The Minhaju's-Salikin (An Open Road for Travellers on the Sufi Path), in Arabic, is an advanced sufi manual.
Kubra's poems on 'Ali and his descendants are both eloquent and touching, however, they fail to prove the author was a Shi`i. A large number of sufi poets, particularly Iranians, enthusiastically eulogised about

1 A literary history of Persia, 11, pp. 492-93.

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the greatness of `Ali and his progeny; at the same time remaining Sunnis. Molé's conclusion that Shaikh Najmu'd-Din tended to create a type of Sunnite-Shiism has no real basis) The works of most sufis were imbued with similar sentiments and many Indian mystics whose Sunnism was never doubted, credulously adored the Saiyids and their offspring61.
A significant sufi order named the Silsila-i Khwajgan, which thrived mainly in Transoxiana and later in India in its re-organized form, was known as the Naqshbandiyya62. It traced its origin from Khwaja Abu Ya`qub Yusuf al-Hamadani (d. Muharram 535/August 1140). The Khwaja obtained his early education at Baghdad and lived at Marw and Herat, dying in Marw. Of his four disciples, Khwaja `Abdu'l-Khaliq bin `Abdu'l-Jamil, who came from Ghujduwan, modern Gizduvan, a large village in the north-eastern part of the oasis of Bukhara, was the true originator of the unique features of the Silsila-i Khwajgan.
Shaikh Ghujduwani63 wrote works both in Persian prose and poetry and compiled several treatises. A collection of his sayings, the Masaliku'l-Arifin, advocated that his disciples should acquire a precise learning of the Qur'an, Hadis and Fiqh. It urged dervishes to dissociate themselves from both ignorant sufis and those who promiscuously indulged in mixed company. Peace in the heart and a control of the eyesight would help in the pursuit of celibacy. Married life involved the sufi in everyday problems and exposed him to the threat of loss of faith. Mystics should not necessarily avoid sama' but any over-indulgence should be abandoned./2 64
The writings of Shaikh Ghujduwani were founded on the Shari`a but his eight principles of sufi life and the rituals he advocated were largely based on yogic practices, current in the Bukhara region. The Shaikh's disciples however, were convinced that he had learnt these practices from Khizr. The Rashhat Ainu'l-Havat describes them in detail. A summary is contained below:

'1. Hosh dar darn (awareness while breathing). Sufis should not inhale or exhale absent-mindedly; every breath should be associated with an awareness of the divine presence.

2. Nazar bar gadam (watching the steps). Whenever a sufi walks he should be watchful of his steps, while not permitting his sight to distract him from his goal—awareness of the divine presence.

3. Safar dar watan (journey to one's homeland). This involves a journey from human to angelic attributes. Thus the abandonment of human vices leads to the virtues of angels. The essence of this

/1 M. Molé⁶⁵, 'Les Kubrawiya entre sunnisme et shiisme aux huitième et neuvième siècles de l'hégire', Revue des études Islamiques, 1961, pp. 61-142. See also his article, 'Traités mineurs de Nagm al-din Kubra,' Annules Islamologiques, IV, Cairo, 1963, pp. 1-78.

/2 Masaliku'I-Arifin, India Office Manuscript, Delhi, Persian, 1108, if. lb-2b.

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demand is the purification and polishing of the heart, achieved through unceasing effort during the early stages of mystical training.

4. Khalwat dar anjuman (solitude in an assembly) implies that the outward activities of a sufi in the world do not undermine his inward meditation of God. A sufi may wander into a bazaar but so engrossed in zikr should he be that not a single voice is heard by him. Each voice and conversation should be like zikr, and his own speech should also echo in his ears in the same way as a recitation of the name of God.

5. Yad-kard (remembrance) is related to both oral and mental zikr. The easiest way of performing zikr is as follows. The sufi controls his breath from below the navel, shuts his lips tightly and fastens his tongue to his palate to prevent suffocation. He then diverts the spiritual heart into a union with the physical heart which is pineal in shape, and zikr is begun. It takes the following form. The uttering of la (no) involves a process whereby the word is lifted from the navel to the brain ; Ilaha (God) is expressed, at the same time as the right shoulder is jerked sharply and il Allah (but Allah) is uttered as if the heart of flesh has been soundly struck. This process produces a spiritual heart which ontologically circulates throughout the body. The negation involved in the word (la) represents the fact that the world is transitory and the affirmation of il'Allah symbolizes the eternal nature of God. A trainee should be perpetually occupied with this form of zikr for it to achieve a lasting imprint on his heart of the Unity of God.

6. Baz-gasht (restraint). Each time one who performs zikr utters `al-kalimat al-tayyiba, /1 he should add: "Oh God! Thou art my Goal and I seek Thy satisfaction." This phrase would expel all thoughts, both good and evil, from the heart, thus purifying zikr.

7. Nigah-dasht (watchfulness). This helps to prevent the intrusion of evil thoughts during contemplation.

8. Yad-dasht (recollection) is a state of intuitive perception involving a permanent awareness of the divine presence. /2

Khwaja Ghujduwani, who devised these practices was succeeded by four khalifas, all from Bukhara. But it was 'Arif Riwgari (died 657/1259-60), who was the chief link with Muhammad ibn Muhammad Baha'u'd-Din an-Naqshband, in the following way.
'Arif Riwgari—Mahmud Anjir Faghnawi (d. 643/1245 or 670/1271-72)—'Azizan'Ali ar-Ramtini (d. 705/1306 or 721/1321-22)—Muhammad Baba as-Samasi (d. 740/1340 or 755/1354)—Saiyid Amir Kulal al-Bukhari (d. 772/1371), Khwaja Baha'u'd-Din Naqshband.

/1 The Islamic confession of faith.

2/ Rashhat 'Ainu'l-Havai, Kanpur, 1911, pp. 20-5.

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Khwaja Baha'u'd-Din66 was born in Muharram 718/March 1318. With Saiyid Kulal, Baha'u'd-Din is said to have obtained training from the spirit of Khwaja 'Abdu'l-Khaliq Ghujduwani. To the latter's eight principles of sufi discipline Shaikh Baha'u'd-Din added three more:

1. Wuquf-i Zamani (temporal pause) is the constant self-examination by a sufi on the way his time is spent. This leads to a perception of forgetfulness and an insight into a real understanding of the divine presence.

2. Wuquf-i 'Adadi (numerated pause) is the prevention of thought-anarchy through a process of counting the number of times zikr in the heart is repeated. The mystic completes one round of zikr between three and twenty-one recitations in the one breath; however, if there is no spiritual change after a second round of twenty-one zikrs this implies there has been no real impact. 'Negation' expressed in zikr should expel all human vices and `affirmation' should result in a perception of the divine presence.

3. Wuquf-i Qalbi (heart pause). This has two meanings: the first is identical to the explanation of Yad-dasht, but the second, implies that during zikr the heart of flesh should be in no way negligent. To Khwaja Baha'u'd-Din, control of the breath and the counting of zikr were not indispensable but he insisted that the Wuquf-i Qalbi was imperative. According to Khwaja Baha'u'd-Din, this was the essence of sufi discipline. /1

Jami believed that Khwaja Baha'u'd-Din emphasized that the Silsila-i Khwajgan or the Naqshbandis should not practise spoken zikr, seclusion and sama' but concentrate mainly on Khalwat dar anjuman, that is, being outwardly busy in worldly acts, but inwardly meditating on God./2 67
Khwaja Baha'u'd-Din died on 3 Rabi` I, 791/1 March 1389. A large group of scholars and mystics spread his order into Transoxiana and India. The name Silsila-i Khwajgan gradually became obsolete and the order became known as the Naqshbandiyya.

The organisation and rituals of Silsilas

Hujwiri saw in sufi saints a vehicle by which 'the Truth and the proof of Muhammad's veracity' could be continued. Drawing upon Tirmizi's thesis of sainthood, he outlined the hierarchy of saints in the following way:

`(God) has made the Saints the governors of the universe; they have become entirely devoted to His business, and have ceased to follow their sensual affections. Through the blessing of their advent the

/1 Rashhat Ainu'l-Havai, Kanpur, 1911, pp. 26-7.

/2 NU, p. 386.

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rain falls from heaven, and through the purity of their lives the plants spring up from the earth, and through their spiritual influence the Muslims gain victories over the unbelievers. Among them there are four thousand who are concealed and do not know one another and are not aware of the excellence of their state, but in all circumstances are hidden from themselves and from mankind. Traditions have come down to this effect, and the sayings of the Saints—proclaim the truth thereof, and I myself—God be praised !—have had ocular experience (khabar-i `iyan) of this matter. But of those who have power to loose and to bind and are the officers of the Divine court there are three hundred, called Akhyar, and forty, called Abdul, and seven, called Abrar, and four, called Awtad, and three, called Nuqaba, and one, called Qutb or Ghaws. All these know one another and cannot act save by mutual consent.'/1

The silsila system guaranteed the transmission of mystical knowledge acquired by founders of the order to further generations of sufis through their successors or khalifas. The 'ulama' accused the sufis of deifying their spiritual teachers (Shaikhs, pirs or murshids) but the sufis saw their Shaikhs as being illuminated by the light of Muhammad which had existed even before his birth and was the sole cause of creation.68
The various silsilas did not develop in an atmosphere of rivalry and hostility towards each other. No attempt was made to develop a central silsila for the entire Islamic world and all sufi Shaikhs believed their own spiritual influence should be confined to a limited territory69. This conviction also sprang from the current practice whereby governors of different territories respected the independence of other administrations.
In his own spiritual territory or wilaya the pir looked after the material, as well as the spiritual needs, of his disciples and also attempted to assist others who asked for his help. The political upheavals and crises of the eleventh and twelfth centuries, precipitated by the Ghuzz and Mongol invasions in Khurasan and Iran, had undermined the authority of the Turkic Sultans and this in turn had led to an increase in the importance of the sufi silsilas. As there was no official avenue through which grievances of the common people could be registered, the only alternative was to seek assistance from members of sufi orders.
As has already been seen, merchants were the leading financial supporters of the sufi movement and in return the khanqahs offered them both hospitality and protection. Gifts from rich men, government officials, princes and rulers were also welcomed, but sufi literature indicates that eminent sufis themselves did not crave offerings. The unsolicited gift (futuh) from devotees was their only source of income and a popular belief in the efficacy of sufi prayers for the fulfilment of both

/1 Nicholson, pp. 213--14.

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worldly and non-worldly ambitions provided for the continual flow of gifts. Begging was also resorted to in the initial stages in the development of a new khanqah, but affluent khanqahs also insisted that neophyte sufis go to town begging70. Firstly this custom was intended to produce humility, and secondly to strengthen the feeling among sufis that they were the lowliest of all God's creatures. Many eminent sufis worked as petty traders, artisans or cultivators, to enable them to remain part of the community, rather than becoming inhabitants of ivory towers. Instances of sufis waging holy wars are not unknown, but the historical records indicate that jihad on these occasions was intended to repel enemy invasions, such as those from the heathen Turks or Mongols. Sufis kept themselves aloof from both the administrative machinery and imperialist wars of the government. However, the mystic tawakkul (trust in God) did not imply a turning away from society.
Disciple initiation was a complex phenomenon. Some pirs carefully examined the talents and potential of those who approached them for initiation; others admitted disciples indiscriminately to their silsilas. Each order followed its own special methods of training and formulas for zikr and contemplation. No uniform pattern was evolved. Progress depended on the capacity of the novice; some completed their initiation into sufi life after a short period, others underwent a lengthy period of training. According to Hujwiri, sufi Shaikhs prescribed a probationary period to novices of three years before instructing them in the real secrets of the Path (Tariqa). The first year of sufi apprenticeship was devoted to serving the people; the second, to the service of God and the third to guarding the heart. Service was intended to fill the trainee with humility so that others would be considered at the expense of himself. The serving of God necessitated a severance from all self-motivation related to both worlds./1
The Tariqa was an arduous journey involving numerous risks and impediments. It could be traversed only under the strict supervision of Shaikhs or pirs who had themselves traversed all the hills and dales of the Path, and had survived the rapture of the 'states,' perceived the nature of actions, and experienced the severity of 'Divine Majesty' and the clemency of 'Divine Beauty.'
There were many reasons for practising spiritual exercises under the guidance of qualified person. Firstly, the Tariqa involved a journey to different spiritual stations; these included repentance (tawba), conversion (inabat), renunciation (zuhd) and trust in God (tawakkul). The stages were reached through self mortification, performing zikr, and contemplation, and these all needed constant supervision by a Shaikh. Secondly, during a mystic journey certain conditions such as qabz (contraction), bast (dilation) and illumination, descended into the heart from God

/1 Nicholson, p. 54.

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through divine grace. Only a perfect pir understood the significance of these states and was able to discriminate between a true illumination and the appearance of one, which in reality was a delusion emanating from the devil. Thirdly, the sufi journey of a novice from the intellectual perception of God to an emotional involvement with Him was a personal experience, a mystery to be shared only with a perfect guide. These experiences could be revealed only to one's pir.
There were some exceptions to this rule among sufis who claimed they were disciples of Khazir (or Khizr). A mysterious figure who appeared in Islamic legends, there was some controversy as to whether Khizr was a prophet. Generally it was believed he had drunk the fountain of life, had been rendered immortal and that he was a contemporary of every age. Some commentators on verses 59 to 81 of Chapter 18 of the Qur'an represent Khizr /1 as the guide of Moses who revealed to him the secret, mystical truth that transcended the Shari`a, which Moses himself was commissioned to introduce. It was little wonder that sufis believed he was a unique guide in their pursuit of the truth and in their efforts to reach Reality. Belief in Khizr's immortality made him a supernatural being who was involved in the assisting of sufis of well-known orders. In legends Khizr saved men in desperate situations. His name was invoked in times of danger especially by merchants and travellers. The continued association of the sufi movement with the legend of Khizr was so great that almost all eminent sufis are said to have met or encountered this mysterious figure at some time in their careers. Some sufis were said to be his constant companions, others were believed to have had a casual acquaintance with him.
Mujahida, or self-mortification performed under the guidance of a pir, strictly adhered to the Shari'a and was designed to achieve purification of the soul. The nafs or souls of ordinary human beings were unregenerate

1 Khizr or Khazir, 'The green man'. The outline of the story is as follows, 'Musa, ' Moses' goes on a journey with his servant fata, the goal of which is the majma` al-bahrain. But when they reach this place, they find that as a result of the influence of Satan they have forgotten the fish which they were taking with them. The fish had found its way into the water and had swum away. While looking for the fish the two travellers meet a servant of God. Musa says that he will follow him if he will teach him the right path rushd. They come to an arrangement but the servant of God tells Musa at the beginning that he will not understand his doings, that he must not ask for explanations and as a result will not be able to bear with him. They set out on the journey ... during which the servant of God does a number of apparently outrageous things which causes Musa to lose patience so that he cannot refrain from asking for an explanation; whereupon the servant of God replies: "Did I not tell you that you would be lacking in patience with me?" He finally leaves Musa and on departing gives him the explanation of his actions, which had their good reasons.' H.A.R. Gibb and J.H. Kramer, Shorter encyclopaedia of Islam, p. 232.

According to some traditions Khizr was the companion of Alexander the Great who made a desperate effort to search for the spring of life. Some Arabic sources connect Khizr with the sea and some to the vegetable kingdom. In India Khwaja Khizr is recognized as a river God or a spirit of wells and streams.

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(al-ammara); obedience to the Shari’a and persistent zikr enabled sufis to subdue both the unregenerate soul and the blameworthy soul (lawwama). This led the soul to the third stage in which it became inspired (al-mulhama). Although this stage represented a high level, prayers and zikr were imperative in order to produce a further stage of tranquillity (mutma`inna). The fifth stage was that of a contented soul in which the soul renounced everything except God. The soul of a sufi entering the sixth stage was called marziyya, the approved one, for here the mystics fashioned into one who was both merciful and benevolent to all and this in turn strengthened the bond of love between the Creator and his creatures. The seventh and final stage in the soul's long journey resulted in the creation of a faultless soul (al-kamila) and was achieved by only the most perfect of sufis.
Zikr,/1 which can be translated as `recollection' or 'remembrance,' was essentially a spiritual exercise designed to expel everything which separated the earthly individual from the Divine. Through it sufis were able to experience God's presence in every corner of their being. According to one sufi:

'The first stage of zikr is to forget self, and the last stage is the effacement of the worshipper in the act of worship, without consciousness of worship, and such absorption in the object of worship as precludes return to the subject thereof.'/2

Zikr was performed both communally and in seclusion. The former enabled senior disciples to supervise the progress of their juniors. The zikr-i khafi, recollection performed either mentally or in a low voice, was recommended by the Naqshbandis; the Qadiriyya and the Chishtiyya generally performed zikr-i jali, which was recited aloud. Both forms of zikr involved control of the breath and over inhalation and exhalation. The formulas for zikr differed from one order to another, but generally they involved the recitation of different syllables of the kalima or some of the many names of God.
Zikr popularized the use of the tasbih or rosary, consisting of 99 or 100 beads. Some orders used rosaries of 301 beads, but ones of 1000 beads were not unknown./3

/1 Zikr is founded on the following verses in the Qur'an: "He (God) is first. He is last. The Manifest, and the Hidden, and Who knoweth all things." "He (God) is with you wheresoever ye be." "We (God) are closer to him (man) than his neck-vein." "Whichever way ye turn, there is the face of God." "God encompasseth all things." "All on earth shall pass away, but the face of thy God shall abide resplendent with majesty and glory." T.P. Hughes, A dictionary of Islam, London, 1935, pp. 703-04.

/2 R.A. Nicholson, The mystics of Islam, London, 1963, p. 48.

/3 ' "The introduction of the rosary into Christendom is ascribed by Pope Pius V, in a Bull, AD 1596, to Dominic, the founder of the Black Friars, AD 1221, and it is related that Paul of Pherma, an Egyptian ascetic of the fourth century, being ordered to recite 300 prayers,collected as many pebbles which he kept in his bosom, and threw out one by one at every prayer, which shows that the rosary was probably not in use at that period.... It seems probable that the Muslims borrowed the rosary from the Buddhists, and that the Crusaders copied their Muslim opponents and introduced it into Christendom."' A Dictionary of Islam, p. 546.

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Zikr was followed by meditation to allow the individual thoughts of sufis to emerge. Generally dervishes meditated on some particular verse of the Qur'an, and at the same time an image of the pir was recalled to mind.
Through baiy`a or formal initiation, disciples were inextricably spiritually linked to their pirs. In order to solemnize the occasion, the pir would place his hand on the disciple's head, or alternately, the ritual involved the grasping of each other's hands. A distinguished disciple, or one particularly favoured by the Shaikh, was invested by him with a khirqa. This was not necessarily made of wool but invariably was patched. At the ceremony the Shaikh imparted to his disciple secret instructions commensurate with the latter's abilities and transmitted to him special blessings. According to Hujwiri, the wearing of the muraqqa or khirqa was practised by Muhammad and his companions. Another tradition says that after the Prophet's return from his mi`raj or ascension, Muhammad invested `Ali with a cloak which he had been instructed by God to give to one who answered a particular question. Investiture of the khirqa increased the religious responsibilities of the disciple and he was expected to prove himself worthy of the honour. Hujwiri gives the following allegorical interpretation of the cloak's significance:

`Its collar is annihilation of intercourse (with men), its two sleeves are observance (hifz) and continence (`ismat), its two gussets are poverty and purity, its belt is persistence in contemplation, its hem (kursi) is tranquillity in (God's) presence, and its fringe is settlement in the abode of union. '/1

Some distinguished disciples who had been endowed with khirqas were also sent by their Shaikhs to act as deputies or khalifas at different places during their lifetimes. They were given a licence or diploma called an ijaza or khilafat-nama, authorizing recipients to disseminate the principles and practices of their respective orders. Each khilafat-nama was formally signed and sealed by the Shaikh and witnessed by one or two of his important disciples.
Before a Shaikh's death, he would nominate his spiritual heir and bequeath to him his prayer carpet or skin called a sajjada, his subha, his staff and personal khirqa. The heir's title was Sajjada-Nashin, in Arabic, Shaikh as-Sajjada. Succession was not necessarily hereditary or a decision of the Shaikh, in some orders after a Shaikh's death a khalifa would be elected.

/1 Nicholson, p. 56.

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Generally, Shaikhs were buried inside their khanqahs or close-by. Eventually rulers or important nobles, devoted to a particular Shaikh, erected imposing tombs on the graves of their patron saints. Even the humblest of these burial sites became institutions of far-reaching significance. By the eleventh century, khanqahs had become centres for the spiritual élite. However, the tombs were also for the people, both Muslim and non-Muslim, many of whom travelled vast distances to reach them71. Pilgrims sought the intercession of the Shaikh's spirit for the fulfilment of their own ambitions, both religious and mundane. Naturally, the most enthusiastic disseminators of miraculous powers attached to the tombs were those whose wishes were attained, but the empty-handed cursed their own lot, rather than questioning the genuine sanctity of the saints. Such activity at the tombs led to an identification between the common man and the silsila, and this was often associated with a genuine feeling of respect for the Shaikh.
Gradually the veneration of tombs degenerated into an excess of superstitious practices. The belief spread that the spirit of the saints resided in their graves and could be invoked for private use. Fictitious graves were also constructed and worshipped ; a curious story is related by J.P. Brown in which an ass's grave was believed to radiate blessings to a group of villages in Anatolia./1
Great celebrations were held to commemorate the chief landmarks in the life of a Shaikh. Then, as now, the most popular date marked the anniversary of the death of great Indian sufis. This was known as the `urs or wedding, for the death of a mystic denoted the return of his soul to the supernatural source from which it had been separated during its earthly existence72. This belief was strengthened by the philosophy of Ibn al-`Arabi in his most significant concept, the Wandat al-Wujud or the Tawhid-i Wujudi, that is, the Unity of Being.

Wandat al-Wujud

The twelfth century was a watershed in the history of sufism. This was brought about by the introduction and widespread acceptance of the theory of Wandat al-Wujud. Ibn al-`Arabi did not, in fact, devise the concept himself but he managed to reconcile  varying sufi views on Reality and re-orientated them in such a way as to form a sound basis for future developments in ideas on mysticism. Ibn al-`Arabi was immortalized by the title, Shaikh al-Akbar, 'the Greatest Shaikh.'
Born at Murcia in the south-east of Spain on 27 Ramazan 560,`7 August 1165 into the ancient Arab tribe of Tayy, Ibn al-'Arabi was a precocious child. At an early age he had a vision which changed the course of his life. Adopting sufism, Ibn al-'Arabi served under many different Shaikhs, at the same time continuing to claim that his gnosis

/1 J.P. Brown, The Dervishes, ed. H.A. Rose, London. 1968, pp. 307-22.

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was based on direct inspiration. His father was a friend of the celebrated philosopher, Ibn Rushd or Averroes (1126-98). As a youth, Ibn al-`Arabi impressed Averroes by the perception of his own divine inspiration.
In 590/1194 Ibn al-`Arabi went to Tunis and the following year to Fez. In 597/1200 he visited the Almohad capital of Marrakesh, then he went to Mecca. In 601/1204 he left for Baghdad where he remained for six years before visiting Quniya. In 611/1214 he re-visited Mecca where he compiled a commentary on a collection of his Arabic poems, Tarjuman al-Ashwaq (Interpretation of Love). These had been written during his first pilgrimage and his commentary explained their esoteric meaning. The following year, Ibn al-`Arabi left Mecca and spent the next nine years at such places as Siwas, and Malalya in Anatolia. Finally in 629/1232, he settled at Damascus, living there until his death on 28 Rabi' 11 638/16 November 1240.
Ibn al-`Arabi was a truly prolific author. Although he wrote excellent mystical poetry in Arabic, his great works, al-Futuhat al-Makkiyya (Meccan Victories or Discourses) and the Fusus al-Hikam (Bezels of Wisdom) are philosophical. Ibn al-`Arabi claimed that Fusus had been revealed to him in a single dream. Both works in fact are a summary of the Islamic esoteric heritage.
Not only was Ibn al-`Arabi a great sufi in his own right, he was also a link between eastern and western sufism. His writings are extremely difficult to understand. The symbols and metaphors he used in an effort to explain his own system of sufism shocked the orthodox. Thanks to the efforts of his commentators, writing both in Arabic and Persian, the impact of the works of Ibn al-`Arabi and his own influence as a sufi, penetrated deeply both into current and later sufi thought.
Among his disciples, Sadru'd-Din Al-Qunawi, who was initiated at Quniya in 607/1210, helped to popularize Ibn al-`Arabi's works in Anatolia through the method of lecturing. Jalalu'd-Din Rumi was also greatly impressed by his ideas. 'Iraqi, who will be discussed in Chapter Three, introduced Ibn al-'Arabi to Indian sufis. Of the many Persian commentators on Ibn al-'Arabi, none could excel Maulana Nuru'd-Din 'Abdu'r-Rahman Jami of Herat (817/1414-898/1492). A descendant of 'Abdu'l-Qadir Jilani, 'Abdul-Karim al-Jili (767/1365-832/1428), who lived for some time in Yaman, later travelling through India in 790/1388, wrote about thirty books on Ibn al-'Arabi's philosophy, including a commentary on the Futuhat. His most important work was al-Insan al-Kamil (The Perfect Man) which sought to develop, and occasionally to modify, the doctrines of Ibn al-'Arabi.
The concept of the Wandat al-Wujud (Unity of Being) expounded by Ibn al-'Arabi was founded on a primordial belief in the ultimate nature of Unity which reduced to nothing, ideas of the existence of entities 'other than God.'73 According to Ibn al-`Arabi, the Absolute Being was in-
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separable from the Absolute Existent and was the ultimate source of all existence. The belief that this concept was a form of pantheism has now been discarded. Louis Massignon translated it as 'existential monism' ; Affifi also does not approve of the term pantheism, but does not reject it completely, calling it instead `Islamic pantheism.' T. Burckhardt, another authority on Ibn al-`Arabi, unequivocally refutes the use of the word in connection with Wandat al- Wijud and says:

`Pantheism only conceives of the relationship between the Divine Principle and things from the one point of view of substantial or existential continuity, and this is an error explicitly rejected by every traditional doctrine. If there were such a continuity by virtue of which God and the manifested universe could be compared as a branch can be compared with the trunk from which it sprang, then this continuity, or, (what amounts to the same thing), the substance common to the two terms, would either be determined by some superior principle which differentiated it or would itself be superior to the two terms which it bound together and, in a sense, included: God would then not be God. Now it might be said that God is himself this continuity, or this Unity, but in that case it would not be conceived of as outside Him, so that He is in reality beyond compare and therefore distinct from everything manifested, but without the possibility of anything being 'outside' or 'beside' Him<sup>74</sup>. Now, as Muhi'u'd-Din ibn `Arabi says in his "Epistle on Unity," the Risalat al-Ahadiyah : " ...None grasps Him save He Himself. None knows Him but He Himself... He knows Himself by Himself. . . Other-than-He cannot grasp Him. His impenetrable veil is His own Oneness. Other-than-He does not cloak Him. His veil is His very existence. He is veiled by His oneness in a manner that cannot be explained. Other-than-He does not see Him ; whether prophet, envoy or perfected saint or angel near unto Him."   /1

Henry Corbin takes even stronger exception to a monistic interpretation being applied to Ibn al-`Arabi's philosophy and brand of mysticism. He says:

`It is perhaps because our age-old Christological habits prevent us from conceiving (of) a union other than hypostatic that so many Western writers have characterized Ibn `Arabi as a 'monist.' They overlook the fact that such fundamentally docetic thinking is hardly compatible with what Western philosophy has defined as 'monism.''

/1 T. Burckhardt, An introduction to Suji doctrine, tr. by D.M. Matheson. Lahore. 1963, pp. 23-4.

/2 H. Corbin, Creative imagination in the Sufism of Ibn 'Arabi, tr. R. Manhem. London, 1969, p. 209.

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The Islamic doctrine of Tawhid or the affirmation of God's Oneness or Unity is founded on a belief that there is no other God than Allah, who is also the Unique one, the Creator and the Lord of Judgement. The orthodox differed sharply from their opponents over relations between the divine essence and its attributes, but to the falasifa, or Muslim philosophers, God is a Being: `necessary and perfect, supreme intelligence and supreme love, producing the world by a mode of necessary and deliberate emanation.' Sufis of Hallaj's school advocated that : 'in His essence, love, 'ishq, is the Essence of the essence.' They did not advocate a philosophical basis for God. Ghazali's attempt, however, to reconcile current theories, prepared the ground for Ibn al-Arabi's theory of the Unity of Being. His God was not the transcendental God of the orthodox but the Absolute Being who manifested Himself in every form of existence75, and in the highest degree in the form of the Perfect Man. According to Ibn al-`Arabi, the One and the many are two aspects of `One'; Affifi interprets his concept this way :

'The One reveals Himself in the many ... as an object is revealed in different mirrors, each mirror reflecting an image determined by its nature and its capacity as a recipient. Or it is like a source of light from which an infinite number of lights are derived. Or like a substance which penetrates and permeates the forms of existing objects : thus, giving them their meaning and being. Or it is like a mighty sea on the surface of which we observe countless waves for ever appearing and disappearing. The eternal drama of existence is nothing but this ever-renewed creation (al-khalq al jadid) which is in reality a perpetual process of self-revelation.’ /1

Ibn al-'Arabi identified the Absolute with zat or essence and interpreted it as Absolute Being (wujud al-mutlaq), calling it the source and cause of all existence. The symbol of mirrors was used to remind the person who was the recipient of divine self-manifestation that he was not seeing God directly but rather a reflection of the divine light. Like all eminent sufis, Ibn al-'Arabi emphasized: 'He who knows himself knows the Lord.' The Absolute in His hidden aspect was a mystery and a darkness whose secrets could, under no circumstances, be unveiled. It was only the self-revealing aspect of the Absolute which human beings could understand.
A new orientation to the theological terms tanzih and tashbih were given by Ibn al-Arabi. To the 'ulama,' tanzih meant divine transcendence and tashbih, anthropomorphism. But to Ibn al-'Arabi tanzih referred to the aspect of completeness in the Absolute and tashbih stood for His limitedness (taqayyud). To him there was no antagonism between the two and a true knowledge of the Absolute was necessitated by their

/1 M.M. Sharif ed., A history of Muslim philosophy, 1, p. 413.

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fusion. As long as an idolater was aware he was worshipping God, idolatry could be tolerated for this tended to make tanzih and tashbih complimentary. If an idol worshipper imagined that a piece of stone or wood was God, he ignored tanzih. An awareness of the fact that the Form of the Absolute ran through the entire world of Being amounted to a harmonious connection between tanzih and tashbih./1
Ibn al-Arabi used the term, emanation, in a sense which differed from Plotinus, who believed it to be : 'one thing over-flowing from the Absolute One, then another from the first thing, etc. in the form of a chain.' But to Ibn al-`Arabi emanation meant that: 'one and the same Reality variously determines and delimits itself and appears immediately in the forms of different things.'/2 His theory of self-manifestation of the Absolute, however, did not contradict the Islamic theory of creation. It was founded on sufi cosmogony which described the motive for creation this way: `I was a hidden Treasure, I yearned to be known. That is why I produced creatures, in order to be known in them'. The Divine Being is a Creator because He wished to know Himself in beings who know Him. Thus 'the Creation is essentially the revelation of the Divine Being, first to Himself, a luminescence occurring within Him; it is a theophany (tajalli-ilahi).' To Ibn al-Arabi, creation ex nihilo or an absolute beginning from nothing was an idea without meaning76./3 To him the world continued being created anew every moment, and all movements sought to reach the Absolute One. Fana' symbolized the passing away of all forms and baqa' was a perpetuation in the Divine Being.
Ibn al-Arabi drew upon both semantics and Hadis to support his idea that the entire creative process was dominated by feminine elements. Reality was both mother and father; in it were enshrined activity as well as passivity. The perception of beauty as the `theophany' par excellence was natural/4: 'God is a beautiful being who loves beauty.'
Ibn al-Arabi attached a high importance to the cosmic significance of man. He believed that the universe was a 'Big Man' created by God in order to see himself, while Man was a small universe, a well-polished mirror reflecting objects as they really were. In man were found all the attributes which the universe embodied, while a Perfect Man was the epitome of all understanding and the vicegerency of God on earth./5 According to Ibn al-'Arabi, the Perfect Man was the 'First Epiphany of God,' sometimes he was identified with the Logos and sometimes with the spirit-giving principle imminent in the universe. His arguments were based on the Jewish tradition that God created Adam in his own image

/1 Fusus al-Hikam, A. Affifi, Cairo, 1946, pp. 68-72.

/2 T. lzutsu, A comparative study of the key philosophical concepts in Sufism and Taoism, I, Tokyo, 1966, p. 145.

/3 H. Corbin, Creative imagination in the Sufism of Ihn 'Arabi, pp. 186-95.

/4 Fusus al-Hikam, p. 82.

/5 ibid, pp. 48-9.

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but also made full use of the sufi theories of Haqiqa al-Muhammadiyya and Nur al-Muhammadiyya. Thus in relation to the Absolute, Muhammad was both a `servant' and `passive,' but in relation to the world he was `lord' and `active.' The Perfect Man having `actualized in himself the Absolute' was permeated by the Absolute. What distinguished the Absolute from created beings were certain attributes contained in the former, such as the necessity for existence (wujub al-wujud) and eternity./1
Ibn al-`Arabi discredited reason and blamed it for covering man with an opaque veil of `ego.'77 This drove man further from the Absolute making him inferior to animals, plants and minerals, which did not have any ego. It was by dispelling reason that man ascended from his lowly position and the light of the Absolute illuminated him. Using the example of a coloured glass, Ibn al-`Arabi said that as the same light passed through different coloured glasses many shades of light appeared, so also the Absolute was manifested diversely in men of varying capacities. The saints (Wali) who had died to their own ego were Perfect Men, for Wali was a name of God and indicated that saints were an aspect of the Absolute. After Muhammad, prophethood, or the process of lawgiving, ceased, but the state of Wali never ceased to exist. The concept of the Khatam al-Walaya (the seal of sainthood) in Ibn al-`Arabi's world-view meant the end of a cycle of saints; he believed that a cycle embodying the heritage of Muhammad and the Messiah ended with himself. Saints coming in subsequent centuries were to inherit the legacy of Ibn al-`Arabi's ideas regarding sainthood.
Mystical union, to Ibn al-`Arabi, did not amount to `becoming' one with God, rather it was the realization of an already existing union. Like all sufis, he believed that 'ilm (knowledge) belonged to the intellect and ma`rifa (intuitive knowledge) to the soul. He advised sufis to remove the veils woven through sin which separated the soul and God, thus enabling the former to radiate esoteric knowledge, the ray of divine light. Great tolerance, human compassion and fellowship were indispensable features of a spiritual life; these were also the chief means by which mystics could comprehend oneness with the Reality which was the One and All.
The religious and moral implications of Ibn al-'Arabi's teachings had a great impact on theologians in the Islamic world, from the twelfth century onwards. Although he believed in the supremacy of Islam as a world religion, Ibn al-'Arabi advocated that the Divine existed and was worshipped in all religions, and that God was worshipped in Love, His highest manifestation. He declared :

' M y heart has become the receptacle of every `form' ;

It is a pasture for gazelles (i.e. objects of love) and

/1 Fusus al-Hikam, pp. 53-4.

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a convent for Christian monks.

And a temple for idols, and the pilgrim's Ka'ba,

and the tablets of the Torah (Jewish Law)

and the Book of the Qur'an.

I follow the religion of love; whichever way its camels take,

for this is my religion and my faith.»

Sufism in India

The Arab sea traders operating between the Malabar coast and Ceylon first introduced Islam to that region of the sub-continent. The belief that the conquest of Sind at the time of the Umayyad Caliph al-Walid I (705-15) originated as a punitive expedition against the ruling Raja Dahir, after his pirates had seized some Muslims on a hajj to Mecca, is a myth. In reality, the conquest of Transoxiana and Sind was initiated by Hajjaj, Walid's governor in Iraq, and was one aspect of his expansionist policy. In 710 Muhammad bin Qasim al-Saqafi began his advance through Makran and Baluchistan with the conquest of Sind between 711 and 712; the following year he extended his influence as far as Multan in the southern Panjab. Similarly, Qutayba bin Muslim, another enterprising general, conquered Transoxiana between 705 and 715. Balkh, Bukhara, Samargand, Khwarazm and Farghana became Arab colonies.
The great spread of sufism in Transoxiana and Khurasan has been dealt with previously, however, no such developments in Sind are recorded. Early Arab conquerors settled their families in large numbers in the various towns of Sind. Conversion of the local population occurred due to several reasons. Many Brahmans holding high government offices embraced Islam in order to retain their positions. A large number of Buddhists who had acted as fifth columnists against their Hindu rulers and were extremely hostile to Brahman domination, converted to the faith of their conquerors. Muhammad bin Qasim is believed to have induced several chieftains to accept Islam/2 and for reasons of expediency some responded favourably. The Raja of Asifan, in the Panjab, is said to have converted to Islam after persuasion from some Muslim merchants,/3 who as a class had always been enthusiastic proselytizers of Islam. The Qur'an was also said to have been translated into local regional dialects. Hindu and Buddhist scholars from Sind were sent to the `Abbasid court. In the eighth century Abu Ma'shar/4 Najih (d. 170/ 787) a scholar of Hadis, and the poet Abu'l-'Ata/5 (died after 158/774) were leading literary figures from Sind.

/1 Tajuman al-Ashwaq, quoted by Affifi, A history of Muslim philosophy, I, p. 144. '

/2 Muhammad 'Ali bin Hamid bin Abu Bakr Kufi, Chach Nama, Delhi, 1939, pp. 104-06, 116, 119-21, 156, 288-90.

/3 Abu'l-'Abbas Ahmad al-Baladhuri, Futuh al-Buldan, Leiden, 1866, p. 446.

/4 Encyclopaedia of Islam (new edition), I. p. 140.

/5 ibid, p. 140.

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Lack of information about sufis in Sind may be ascribed to two factors. Firstly, land communications between Khurasan, Transoxiana and Sind were slow and arduous. Secondly, the blossoming of sufism during the tenth century had synchronized with the rise of the Ismaili Fatimid Caliphate from 909 to 1171. Between 977 and 985, Multan had become a dependency of the Fatimids of Egypt. Mansura, the capital of Sind, ruled by the Sumira dynasty had also accepted the over-lordship of the Egyptian Caliphs. Therefore sufism, which subscribed to Sunni Islam, was naturally cut, from close relations with other areas of Central Asia, also within the Sunni fold.
The Isma`ilis were a sect of Shiis who believed that the descendants of Imam Ja`far al-Sadiq's son, Ismail, who died in 765, five years before his father's death were the true Imams. They interpreted the Qur'an symbolically and allegorically, emphasizing that the inner meaning (batin) of the Qur'an should be given preference to its literal meaning. They called their interpretation ta'wil (esoteric exegesis) and believed that it had been revealed only to the khass (élite). This gave rise to a hierarchical order of teachers ranging from the Imam to the simple believer. The batin was not to be revealed to the uninitiated. In order to avert the danger of persecution from orthodox Sunnis they used what the Shi`is called taqiya (religious concealment) in order to escape persecution. They were enthusiastic missionaries who unhesitatingly modified their esoteric system to suit their converts. According to fourteenth and fifteenth century legends, Isma`íli propagandists evolved a belief for Hindu converts that `Ali was the tenth incarnation of Vishnu, that Adam was another aspect of Siva and that Muhammad was in fact Brahma./1 This is, however, not necessarily representative of early Ismaili approaches to proselytization.
Between 1004 and 1011 the invasions of Mahmud of Ghazna dealt a strong blow to Ismaili power in Multan, however their impact was transitory. In 1025, laden with booty obtained from the plunder of Somnath, Mahmud's armies passed through Mansura en route to Ghazna but, harassed by local Jats, had no time to launch a further attack on the Ismailis. The Isma`ilis continued to flourish in Mansura and Multan. A hundred and fifty years later in 1175 Mu'izzu'd-Din Muhammad bin Sam seized Multan, establishing firm control and Sunni rule over the southern part of the Panjab.
The Sumira dynasty continued to rule the Lower Sind until the middle of the fourteenth century. After the end of the twelfth century, the Upper Sind came under the domination of Sunni rule. It would seem, however, that by the middle of the eleventh century, sufism had penetrated into the areas surrounding Multan.
The first sufi to settle in the region was Shaikh Safiu'd-Din Kaziruni.

/1 T.W, Arnold, The preaching of Islam, Lahore, 1961, p. 215.

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The Shaikh was a native of Kazirun near Shiraz, in Iran. His uncle was Shaikh Abu Ishaq Kaziruni,/l who died in 426/1035. After appointing Safiu'd-Din his khalifa, according to tradition, Shaikh Abu Ishaq ordered him to mount a camel and travel in whatever direction the animal led him; he was then to remain where the camel finally halted. Although this happened to be in the middle of a desert, the Shaikh founded a town later called Uch./2 Although this story would appear mythical, it is typical of medieval tales relating to sufis.
In reality, it was the news of Sultan Mahmud's conquest of Multan which prompted sufis to advise their talented and adventurous disciples to settle in that region. A new, reasonably unpopulated area offered tranquillity to a contemplative:
No account of Shaikh Safiu'd-Din's activities at Uch remains. An anecdote, related to his disciples by Shaikh Nizamu'd-Din Auliya', gives an interesting account of the Shaikh's encounter with a yogi.
According to the story, a yogi visited Shaikh Safiu'd-Din at Uch and challenged him to a competitive performance of miracles. The tale continues that the yogi began an exhibition of supernatural powers by flying to the ceiling and returning safely to the ground. When it was his turn, Shaikh Safiu'd-Din prayed to God, begging Him for some miraculous power. Then, leaving the room, he flew to the west, the north and the south, returning to the room and the awestruck yogi. Although he himself could bodily rise in a perpendicular position as a result of powers achieved through his own spiritual exercises, the yogi admitted

/1 Abu Ishaq Kaziruni was recognized as the protector of travellers and both merchants and rulers gave huge gifts to his khanqah. Ibn Battuta gives the following graphic description of his influence.

"This Shaikh Abu Ishaq is highly venerated by the people of India and China. Travellers on the Sea of China make a practice when the wind turns against them and they fear pirates, of making vows to Abu Ishaq, and each one of them sets down in writing the obligation he has undertaken in his vow. Then when they come safely to land, the servitors of the hospice go on board the ship, take the inventory, and exact (the amount of) his vow from each person who has pledged himself. There is not a ship that comes from China or from India but has thousands of dinars in it (vowed to the saint), and the agents on behalf of the intendant of the hospice come to take delivery of that sum. There are some poor brethren who come to beg alms of the Shaikh; each of these receives a written order for some amount, sealed with the die into red wax and apply it to the order so that the mark of the stamp remains upon it, to this effect: `Whoso has in his possession (moneys dedicated under) a vow to Shaikh Abu Ishaq, let him give thereof to so-and-so so much,' the order being for a thousand or a hundred dirhams, or some intermediate or smaller sum, according to the standing of the poor brother concerned. Then, when the mendicant finds someone who has in his possession anything under vow, he takes from him and writes for him a receipt for the amount on the back of the order. The king of India (probably Muhammad bin Tughluq) once vowed ten thousand dinars to the Shaikh Abu Ishaq, and when the news of this reached the poor brethren of the hospice, one of them came to India, took delivery of the money, and went back with it to the hospice."

H.A.R. Gibb, tr., The travels of Ibn Battuta, II, Cambridge, 1962, pp. 320-21.

/2 Shaikh `Abdu'l-Haqq Muhaddis Dihlawi, Akhbaru'l-Akhyar, Delhi, 1332/1914, p. 205.

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that the Shaikh's performance emanated from divine grace and was therefore miraculous./1
The term ‘jogi' or `yogi' in sufi literature, is never precisely defined, however the yogis referred to in later anecdotes are the Nath Yogis or Siddhas who acquired supernatural powers through hatha-yoga. Possibly the yogi mentioned in this story was a Nath yogi.
As mentioned earlier, the annexation of the Panjab by Mahmud of Ghazna and its incorporation into his empire prompted many sufis to settle in the area. Abu'l-Fazl Muhammad bin al-Hasan Khattali, a disciple of Husri (d. 371/981-82) of the school of Junaid, ordered his disciple, Shaikh Husain Zinjani to move to the Panjab. Later Khattali asked a young disciple, Abu'l-Hasan `Ali bin `Usman bin `Ali al-Ghaznawi al-Jullabi al-Hujwiri, to follow Husain Zinjani. Hujwiri objected on the grounds that already an eminent sufi was there. His pir, however, ordered him to obey. Hujwiri reached Lahore after dark. In the morning Shaikh Husain Zinjani's coffin was carried out for burial—he had died during the night./2 Zinjani was buried in Chah Miran, which is now a suburb of Lahore. It would seem that Hujwiri probably reached Lahore in c. 1035, while Sultan Mas`ud I (1031-41) reigned in Ghazna.
As his name implies, Hujwiri78 was born in the Ghazna suburb, about 1009. He studied under several sufi masters, some of whom he names in his Kashf al-Mahjub were Abu'l-Qasim Gurgani, Khwaja Muzaffar, Abu'1-`Abbas Ahmad bin Muhammad al-Ashqani. However, Khattali of Syria was his main teacher. Even after settling in Lahore, Hujwiri kept in contact with sufis in Transoxiana, Khurasan and Syria. He made long trips at least twice during his lifetime, each for more than two years. When Khattali died in 1065, Hujwiri was by his side. After 1067, Hujwiri returned to Lahore, remaining there until his death. According to the tablet on his tomb, the saint died in 465/1072-73. Nicholson believed that Hujwiri died sometime between 465 and 469/1076-77.3 However, the Kashf al-Mahjub recorded Khwaja `Abdu'llah Ansari, who died in 1089, as amongst the contemporary saints. It would seem, therefore, that Hujwiri died some time after that date.
Later Muslims posthumously conferred on Shaikh Hujwiri the title, Data Ganj Bakhsh, 'Distributor of (Unlimited) Treasure'. His tomb has always been greatly venerated by sufis and Muslims alike. Among early mystics who undertook hard ascetic exercises in Lahore at the Shaikh's tomb was Khwaja Mui'nu'd-Din Chishti, the founder of the leading Indian order, the Chishtiyya.
Hujwiri was a writer of both poetry and prose. Of his works the follow-

/1 Amin Hasan Sijzi, Fawa'idu'l-Fu'ad, Bulandshahr, 1272/1855-56, pp. 57-8.

/2 ibid, p. 39.

/3 Nicholson, pp. 166-67, 169-70; Hujwiri's Travels: Azarbayjan, pp. 57 and 410; Bastam, p. 68; Damascus, Ramla and Baital-Jin in Syria, pp. 94, 167, 343; Tus and Uzkand, p. 234; Mayhana, p. 235; Marw, p. 401; Sai.aargand, p. 407; Nicholson's preface, pp. IX-XII.

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ing are mentioned in his masterpiece, the Kashf al-Mahjub (The Uncovering of Veils) :
'1. Minhaj al-Din, a work on sufi practices, containing a detailed account of the Ahl-i Suffa and a full biography of Husain bin Mansur al-Hallaj.
2. Asrar al-khiraq wa'l-ma'unat, a work on the patched garments worn by sufis.
3. The Kitab-i fana' wa baqa' written, the author relates, 'in the vanity and rashness of youth.'
4. A work of which no title is given, in which the sayings of al-Hallaj are explained.
5. The Kitab al-Bayan li-Ahl al-7yan, a work on the union with God.
6. The Bahr al-Qulub.
7. Al-Ri `ayat li-Huquq Allah on Divine Unity.
8. A work on faith of which the title is not specified.' /1
Hujwiri's Kashf al-Mahjuh is also the first known manual of sufism written in Persian. Composed towards the end of his life, the work draws upon the vast source material available in Arabic and is a most authoritative exposition of sufism according to Junaid's school. As noted by Nicholson, the most remarkable chapter in the Kashf al-Mahjub relates to the many doctrines held by different sects of sufis. Hujwiri however, is not merely a compiler79. Firstly, he explains the doctrines of various schools, then he relates and assesses them. His comments form the most authoritative classification of sufi thoughts and practices.
The Kashf al-Mahjub suggests that in the eleventh century a number of mystics and scholars who had settled in Lahore were strongly hostile to the views of its author. A scholar, who Hujwiri fails to name, an expert in Qur'anic commentaries, sharply disagreed with his interpretation of fana' and baqa.' According to the scholar, baqa' indicated God's subsistence in man. Some Lahore sufis believed that gnosis emanated from inspiration; Hujwiri disparagingly called this view `Brahmanical.' Moreover he accused some Muslims of accepting what he saw as the higher status of prophets. To Hujwiri's dissatisfaction they advocated that the saints were superior to prophets./2 These developments so distressed Hujwiri that he considered himself a `captive among uncongenial folk' in Lahore.'/3
It would appear that from its very inception, sufism in India developed conflicting trends mainly due to challenges from movements amongst local mystics. Sufi history in India is the story both of various challenges and responses, and also of the cross-fertilization of new ideas.

2. HISTORY in PERSIA, CENTRAL ASIA, INDIA

Cette section évoque le contexte au sein duquel les sûfis et hommes du blâme vécurent, dont des membres de la Naqsbandiyya pratiquant un dikr silencieux. L’histoire de cet univers complexe est négligée alors qu’elle concerne les deux grands empires centraux de l’Eurasie issus d’envahisseurs de l’Asie centrale, la Perse Safavide et l’Inde Moghole⁸⁰. Si l’on y joint l’empire Turc un peu mieux connu en Occident, c’est l’ensemble des terres d’Islam qui sont concernées – ensemble influent généralement mal connu ! D’où ce nécessaire chapitre rédigé en anglais, langue de sources précises disponibles⁸¹.

En y ajoutant aux confins du nord-ouest eurasien l’Europe chrétienne et à l’est au-delà des déserts et des montagnes la Chine bouddho-taoique, on couvre l’histoire de l’humanité pendant son second millénaire CE. Un instant au regard de l’histoire, l’Europe s’étendra aux Amériques avant de dominer la Terre.

Les empires centraux musulmans sont évoqués grâce à une fraction d’une Histoire de l’Islam éditée à Cambridge. Ils sont étonnamment ignorés dans les lectures d’une Histoire du Monde. Et ignorés presque totalement pour l’Asie centrale - les quatre « -stans » et l’Afghanistan - d’où surgirent pourtant les grands bousculeurs-destructeurs Gengis Khan et Tamerlan⁸².

La Perse et l’Inde ont surtout intéressé les historiens anglais. Nous ajoutons, traduite en français, l’introduction synthétique d’un historien-romancier écossais figurant en tête de l’histoire complexe indienne. Elle suffit à évoquer l’anarchie vécue après la chute de l’empire Moghol. Le dix-huitième siècle amorce la confiscation britannique, dernier « Empire des Indes ».

On justifie⁸³ cette ouverture ‘trop détaillée’ et souvent répétitive parce qu’elle permet des aperçus au niveau de biographies individuelles, d’où une micro histoire vivante plutôt qu’un résumé collectif inhumain sec. Elle expose la dure condition des spirituels placés entre le marteau d’ ulémas faisant régner la cha’ria et l’enclume d’une solide résistance indienne ou de sa dissolvante digestion.

Addition : Les routes de la soie de Peter Frankopan vient combler un « trou » historique. Je l’ai découvert après avoir établi le présent volume sans pouvoir le livrer en français lisible, ayant été obligé de recourir à des annexes d’Histoire de l’Empire britannique.

Ouvrage magistral. Aussi quelques extraits ouvrent cette section 2. History in Persia, Central Asia, India. Elles incitent à tout lire⁸⁴.

Les Hommes du blâme et les Naqsbandis sont issus du centre de civilisation mondial avant le seizième siècle. Puis s’inverse l’importance du centre continental vers la périphérie maritime – de l’Asie méconnue aujourd’hui disparue suite à la sécheresse et à la désertification vers l’Europe disposant des bateaux, de canons et de la boussole.

Le carrefour des civilisations⁸⁵

PREFACE

[...]

Aujourd'hui, on consacre beaucoup d'attention à mesurer l'impact vraisemblable d'une croissance rapide de l'économie chinoise ; on suppute qu'elle induira le quadruplement de la demande d'objets de luxe dans la prochaine décennie. Ou bien l'on étudie les mutations sociales de l'Inde où plus de gens disposent d'un téléphone mobile que d'une chasse d'eau. Or ni la Chine ni l'Inde, selon moi, n'offrent le meilleur point de vue pour considérer le passé du monde et son présent. En réalité, et pour des millénaires, ce fut la région sise entre Orient et Occident, reliant l'Europe au Pacifique, qui constitua l'axe de rotation du globe.

Ce milieu entre l'Est et l'Ouest, qui court en gros des rivages orientaux de la Méditerranée et de la mer Noire jusqu'à l'Himalaya, on jugera peut-être qu'il paraît peu prometteur pour regarder le monde. C'est une

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région qui abrite aujourd'hui des États évoquant l'exotique et le périphérique, tels le Kazakhstan et l'Ouzbékistan, le Kirghizistan et le Turkménistan, le Tadjikistan et les pays du Caucase ; on l'associe à des régimes instables, violents, qui menacent la sécurité internationale, à l'image de l'Afghanistan, de l'Iran, de l'Irak et de la Syrie, ou qui méconnaissent les meilleures pratiques de la démocratie, tels la Russie et l'Azerbaïdjan. Dans l'ensemble, c'est une région constituée d'États déstructurés ou en voie de destruction, dirigés par des dictateurs qui remportent les élections nationales avec d'incroyables majorités, dont les familles et les amis ont la haute main sur d'immenses conglomérats, possèdent d'innombrables biens et détiennent le pouvoir politique. Ce sont des lieux où les droits de l'homme sont bafoués, où la liberté d'expression, touchant les questions de foi, de conscience et de sexualité, est limitée, où le contrôle des médias décide de ce qui est rapporté ou pas par la presse.

Si de tels pays peuvent nous paraître sauvages, ce ne sont pas des trous perdus, d'obscurs terrains vagues. En réalité, le pont qui relie l'Est et l'Ouest est le carrefour même des civilisations. Loin d'être à la marge des affaires mondiales, ces pays se trouvent en leur centre - comme ils le sont depuis l'aube de l'histoire. C'est là que naquit la civilisation, là selon beaucoup que l'Homme fut créé - dans le jardin d'Éden, « planté par le Seigneur Dieu », doté de « toute espèce d'arbres séduisants à voir et bons à manger » dont on pensait généralement qu'il se situait dans les riches contrées entre le Tigre et l'Euphrate.

C'est sur ce pont unissant l'Est et l'Ouest que furent fondées les grandes métropoles il y a près de 5 000 ans, où les villes de Harappa et Mohenjo-daro, dans la vallée

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de l'Indus, furent les merveilles du monde antique, peuplées de dizaines de milliers d'habitants, aux rues surplombant un système d'égouts élaboré qu'on ne verrait pas en Europe avant des milliers d'années. D'autres grands centres de civilisation comme Babylone, Ninive, Uruk et Akkad en Mésopotamie étaient renommés pour leur faste et leur architecture novatrice. Entre-temps, un géographe chinois d'il y a plus de deux millénaires a noté que les habitants de la Bactriane, région traversée par l'Amou-Darya (l'Oxus) et englobant le nord de l'Afghanistan actuel, étaient des négociants et marchands légendaires ; sa capitale accueillait un marché d'une immense richesse, où les produits venaient de très loin pour repartir aussi loin.

C'est l'endroit où les grandes religions du monde ont pris vie, où le judaïsme, le christianisme, l'islam, le bouddhisme et l'hindouisme ont joué des coudes. C'est le chaudron où les groupes de langues ont rivalisé, où les langues indo-européennes, sémitiques et sino-tibétaines frétillaient à côté des altaïques, turques et caucasiennes. C'est là que de grands empires ont crû puis décru, là que les conséquences des affrontements culturels ou personnels se sont fait sentir à des milliers de kilomètres. En se tenant là, on découvre de nouvelles manières d'envisager le passé et un univers profondément interconnecté, où ce qui s'est produit sur tel continent a eu un impact sur tel autre, où les répliques des événements intervenus sur les steppes d'Asie centrale ont pu être perçues en Afrique du Nord, où les événements de Bagdad ont eu des échos en Scandinavie, où les découvertes des Amériques ont modifié les prix des denrées en Chine et induit une demande supplémentaire de chevaux sur les marchés de l'Inde septentrionale.

Ces vibrations se sont propagées sur un réseau qui s'évase dans toutes les directions, celui des routes parcourues par les pèlerins et les guerriers, les nomades

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et les marchands, où denrées et produits ont été achetés et vendus, les idées échangées, modifiées, enrichies. Elles ont transmis non seulement la prospérité, mais aussi la mort et la violence, la maladie et les fléaux. A la fin du XlXe siècle, ce réseau tentaculaire de relations a été baptisé du nom de Seidenstrassen, les routes de la soie, par un éminent géologue allemand, Ferdinand von Richthofen (l'oncle du « Baron Rouge », l'as de la Première Guerre mondiale). Ce nom leur est resté depuis lors.

Ces itinéraires constituent le système nerveux central du monde, reliant ensemble peuples et lieux, mais ils se trouvent sous la peau et sont invisibles à l'oeil nu. Tout comme l'anatomie explique la manière dont le corps fonctionne, c'est en comprenant ces connexions que nous comprenons la marche du monde. Pourtant, en dépit de son importance, cette partie de l'univers a été oubliée par l'histoire généralement enseignée. Cela résulte en partie de ce qu'on a appelé « l'orientalisme » — cette théorie véhémente, essentiellement négative de l'Orient, qui l'a tenu pour sous-développé et inférieur à l'Occident et donc indigne d'une étude sérieuse. Mais cela vient aussi de ce que le récit du passé est si prégnant, si bien installé qu'il ne peut plus accueillir une région qu'on a longtemps jugée périphérique à l'histoire de l'essor de l'Europe et de la société occidentale.

De nos jours, Jalalabad et Hérat en Afghanistan, Falloudja et Mossoul en Irak, Homs et Alep en Syrie paraissent synonymes de fondamentalisme religieux et de violence fanatique. Le présent a emporté le passé telle une avalanche : le temps n'est plus où le nom de Kaboul évoquait des visions de jardins plantés et entretenus par le grand Babur, fondateur de l'Empire moghol en Inde. Le Bagh-i Wafa (« Jardin de la Fidélité ») comportait un bassin entouré d'orangers et de grenadiers, outre un champ de trèfles, dont l'empereur était extrêmement fier. « C'est la plus belle partie du jardin, un superbe spectacle quand les oranges se colorent. Vraiment ce jardin est admirablement situé ! »

De même, les opinions modernes sur l'Iran ont obscurci les gloires de son histoire plus reculée, celle du pays qui le précéda, la Perse, naguère synonyme de bon goût en toutes choses, depuis le fruit servi au dîner jusqu'aux éblouissants portraits en miniature de ses artistes légendaires, en passant par le papier sur lequel écrivaient les érudits. Un ouvrage magnifiquement réfléchi de Simi Nishapuri, bibliothécaire de Mashhad dans l'est du pays, vers 1400, rapporte avec un luxe de détails les conseils d'un bibliophile qui partageait sa passion.

Quiconque envisage d'écrire, lui conseille-t-il solennellement, doit savoir que le meilleur papier de calligraphie se fabrique à Damas, Bagdad ou Samarcande. Le papier venu d'ailleurs « est en général rugueux, périssable et fait des pâtés ». Songez bien, prévient-il, qu'il vaut la peine de teinter légèrement le papier avant d'y écrire « car le blanc agresse les yeux et les plus beaux exemples de calligraphie observés emploient tous du papier teinté. »

Des endroits dont les noms sont quasi oubliés ont jadis dominé l'histoire, telle Merv, qu'un géographe du Xe siècle qualifie de « cité délicieuse, belle, brillante, étendue et agréable » et de « mère du monde » ; ou Ray, non loin de la moderne Téhéran, laquelle était si glorieuse aux yeux d'un autre écrivain à peu près contemporain, qu'elle pouvait être tenue pour la « mariée de la terre » et la « plus belle création du monde 12 ». Piquetant l'échine de l'Asie, ces villes s'enfilaient comme des perles, reliant le Pacifique à la Méditerranée.

Les centres urbains rivalisaient, l'émulation des dirigeants et des élites suscitait une architecture toujours

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plus ambitieuse et des monuments spectaculaires. Des bibliothèques, des lieux de culte, des églises et des observatoires à la taille et au rayonnement culturel immenses ponctuaient la région, reliant Constantinople à Damas, Ispahan, Samarcande, Kaboul et Kachgar. Des villes analogues accueillirent de brillants érudits qui donnèrent un grand élan à leurs disciplines. On ne se souvient aujourd'hui que d'une poignée d'entre eux - des hommes comme Ibn Sina, plus connu sous le nom d'Avicenne, al-Biruni et al-Khwarizmi - des géants dans le domaine de l'astronomie et de la médecine ; mais il y en avait beaucoup d'autres. Durant des siècles avant l'ère moderne actuelle, les centres d'excellence intellectuelle de ce monde, les Oxford et les Cambridge, les Harvard et les Yale ne se situèrent pas en Europe ou en Occident, mais à Bagdad et Balkh, Boukhara et Samarcande.

Il y avait une excellente raison pour que les cultures, les villes et les peuples jalonnant les routes de la soie se développent et prospèrent : tout en commerçant et échangeant des idées, ils apprenaient les uns des autres, s'empruntaient les uns aux autres, en suscitant davantage de progrès en philosophie, dans les sciences, les langues et les religions. Le progrès était essentiel, l'un des dirigeants du royaume de Zhao dans le nord-est de la Chine ne le savait que trop, à l'une des extrémités de l'Asie il y a plus de 2 000 ans. « Avoir le talent de suivre les modes d'hier, déclare le roi Wu-ling en 307 avant notre ère, ne suffit pas à améliorer le monde d'aujourd'hui 13. » Les dirigeants du passé comprenaient combien il importe de ne pas se laisser distancer.

La cape du progrès allait toutefois se déplacer au début des temps modernes, par suite de deux grandes expéditions maritimes qui intervinrent à la fin du xve siècle. Il suffit de six ans, dans les années 1490, pour jeter les fondations d'une perturbation majeure des systèmes

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d'échange établis depuis longtemps. D'abord, Christophe Colomb traversa l'Atlantique, ouvrant la voie à la connexion de deux grandes masses terrestres jusqu'alors inexplorées avec l'Europe et au-delà ; puis, à peine quelques années plus tard, Vasco de Gama réussit à contourner l'Afrique et à gagner l'Inde, traçant ainsi de nouveaux itinéraires. Ces découvertes changèrent les schémas d'interaction et de commerce en opérant un déplacement remarquable du centre de gravité politique comme économique du monde. Soudain, l'Europe occidentale cessait d'être une région écartée pour se trouver au centre d'un système croissant de communication, de transport et d'échanges commerciaux : d'un seul coup, elle devenait le nouvel intermédiaire entre Orient et Occident.

L'essor de l'Europe enclencha une féroce bataille de pouvoir — et pour le contrôle du passé. En même temps que les rivaux s'affrontaient, l'histoire était remodelée pour mettre en relief les événements, les thèmes et les idées utilisables dans les affrontements idéologiques parallèles à la lutte pour les ressources et la maîtrise des mers. On sculpta des bustes de grands politiciens et généraux revêtus de toges pour leur donner l'air de héros romains du passé ; on édifia de magnifiques bâtisses neuves dans le grand style classique en s'appropriant les gloires du monde antique comme si l'on en descendait directement. On tordit et l'on manipula l'histoire pour créer un récit péremptoire où l'essor de l'Occident n'était pas seulement naturel et inévitable, mais la suite logique de ce qui avait précédé.

[...]

Chapitre 5 LA ROUTE DE LA CONCORDE

Le génie stratégique et la subtilité tactique sur le champ de bataille avaient permis à Muhammad et ses disciples d'enchaîner une série de succès confondants. Le soutien de la tribu des Quraysh et celui de l'élite politique dominante à La Mecque avaient aussi été cruciaux, en leur donnant l'autorité pour persuader les tribus d'Arabie méridionale d'écouter et accepter le message de la nouvelle foi. Les occasions qui se présentèrent avec l'effondrement de la Perse arrivèrent elles aussi au bon moment. Mais deux autres raisons importantes aident à comprendre le triomphe. de l'islam au début du vile siècle : le soutien que lui fournirent les chrétiens et par-dessus tout les juifs.

Dans notre monde contemporain, où la religion semble être cause de conflits et de sang versé, il est facile d'oublier comment les grandes fois ont appris les unes des autres et ont emprunté les unes aux autres. Sous le regard d'aujourd'hui, christianisme et islam semblent diamétralement opposés, mais dans les premiers temps de coexistence, leurs rapports n'étaient pas tant pacifiques que chaleureux et encourageants. Plus encore, la relation de l'islam et du judaïsme offrait une compatibilité mutuelle encore plus frappante. Le soutien des juifs

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du Moyen-Orient fut vital pour la propagation de la parole de Muhammad.

Ricn que les sources de la première histoire islarnique soient complexe, il se dégage toutefois un thème remarquable et sans équivoque de la littérature de la période — qu'elle soit arabe, arménienne, syriaque, grecque ou hébraïque — comme des vestiges archéologiques. Muhammad et les siens se donnaient beaucoup de peine pour dissiper les craintes des juifs et des chrétiens à mesure que s'étendait leur mainmise.

Quand il s'était trouvé acculé à Yathrib en Arabie méridionale dans les années 620, solliciter l'aide des juifs avait été l'un des éléments clefs de sa stratégie. La ville et sa région baignaient dans le judaïsme et l'histoire juive, A peine un siècle plus tôt, un souverain juif fanatique de Himyar avait présidé à la persécution systématique de la minorité chrétienne, d'où la cristallisation d'un réseau d'alliances qui restait valide : la Perse s'était ralliée aux Himyarites contre l'union de Rome et de l'Éthiopie. Muhammad était très désireux de se concilier les Juifs d'Arabie méridionale, à commencer par les anciens de Yathrib.

Les Juifs influents de la ville, plus tard rebaptisée Médine, promirent leur soutien à Muhammad en échange d'une garantie de défense mutuelle. Ces engagements étaient couchés sur un document officiel qui affirmait que leur propre foi et leurs biens seraient respectés, maintenant et à jamais, par les musulmans. Il définissait également un accord mutuel entre le judaïsme et l'islam : les disciples des deux religions s'engageaient à se porter assistance au cas où ils seraient attaqués, l'un ou l'autre, par un tiers ; on ne ferait aucun mal aux juifs et l'on n'aiderait pas leurs ennemis. Les musulmans et les juifs coopéreraient, en se prodiguant « des avis et conseils sincères ». Que les révélations de Muhammad fussent non seulement conciliantes mais familières allait aussi

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dans le bon sens : il y avait beaucoup de points communs avec l'Ancien Testament, dont le moindre n'était pas la vénération pour les prophètes et Abraham en particulier, et l'on pouvait évidemment s'entendre avec ceux qui refusaient le statut messianique de Jésus. Outre que l'islam ne menaçait pas le judaïsme, plusieurs de ses dogmes semblaient s'y adapter parfaitement.

La nouvelle circula bientôt parmi les communautés juives que Muhammad et les siens étaient des alliés. Un texte extraordinaire écrit en Afrique du Nord à la fin des années 630 note combien les Juifs de Palestine se félicitaient des nouvelles des progrès arabes parce qu'elles annonçaient un relâchement du pouvoir romain - et donc chrétien - sur la région. Les spéculations allaient bon train : ce qui arrivait n'était-il pas l'accomplissement d'antiques prophéties ? « Ils disaient que le prophète était arrivé, avec les Sarrasins, et qu'il proclamait l'avènement de l'oint, du Christ qui devait venir. » Il s'agissait, conclurent certain juifs, de l'avènement du Messie - arrivant opportunément pour montrer que Jésus-Christ était un imposteur et que les derniers jours de l'humanité étaient venus. Tous n'étaient pas persuadés, cependant. Comme le dit un rabbin lettré, Muhammad était un faux prophète « car les prophètes ne viennent pas armés d'une épée ». Que d'autres textes nous apprennent que les Arabes furent accueillis en libérateurs du pouvoir romain par les juifs constitue une preuve importante de l'image positive de l'islam dans la région. Une source concernant la période, mais d'un siècle postérieur, rapporte comment un ange apparut au rabbin Siméon bar Yochai, tout troublé des souffrances causées par la reprise de Jérusalem par Héraclius et les baptêmes forcés et persécutions de juifs qui s'ensuivirent. « Comment savons-nous que (les musulmans) sont notre salut ? » aurait-il demandé.

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« Ne t'inquiète pas, le rassura l'ange, car Dieu aporte le royaume des (Arabes) uniquement dans le but de vous délivrer de cette (Rome) perverse. Conformément à Sa volonté, Il leur suscitera un prophète. Et Il leur

conquerra la terre, et ils viendront lui rendre sa grandeur. » Muhammad était tenu comme un moyen d'accomplir les espérances messianiques des juifs. Il s'agissait de contrées appartenant aux descendants d'Abraham - d'où une nécessaire solidarité entre Arabes et Juifs.

D'autres raisons, tactiques, invitaient à collaborer avec les armées d'invasion. À Hébron, par exemple, des juifs proposèrent de traiter avec les commandants arabes. « Garantissez-nous la sécurité afin que nous ayons un statut équivalent parmi vous » et donnez-nous « le droit de bâtir une synagogue devant l'entrée de la grotte de Makpéla » (où Abraham avait été enterré) ; en échange, affirmaient les dirigeants juifs, « nous vous montrerons où faire une porte d'accès » afin de contourner les impressionnantes défenses de la ville.

Avoir le soutien de la population locale était un facteur crucial dans le succès des Arabes en Palestine et en Syrie au début des années 630, comme on l'a vu. Des recherches récentes sur les sources grecques, syriaques et arabes ont montré que les Juifs se félicitent de l'arrivée des assaillants dans les premières relations. Cela n'est pas étonnant : si l'on écarte les additions ultérieures imagées comme les interprétations venimeuses (telles les affirmations que les musulmans étaient coupables d'une « hypocrisie satanique »), nous lisons que le commandant militaire qui conduisit l'armée dans Jérusalem entra dans la Ville sainte en humble costume de pèlerin, désireux d'adorer à côté de ceux dont les conceptions religieuses étaient apparemment tenues, sinon pour compatibles, du moins comme pas tout à fait dissemblables.

[...]

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Les efforts pour se concilier les chrétiens furent redoublés par une politique de protection et de respect des peuples du Livre, c'est-à-dire tant des juifs que des chrétiens. Le Coran fait clairement apparaître que les premiers musulmans se considéraient non comme des rivaux de ces deux religions, mais comme héritiers du même patrimoine : les révélations de Muhammad avaient d'abord été « révélées à Abraham et Ismaël, à

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Isaac et Jacob et aux tribus » ; Dieu avait confié le même message à Moïse comme à Jésus. « Nous ne distinguons entre aucun d'eux » dit le Coran. En d'autres termes, les prophètes du judaïsme et du christianisme étaient les mêmes que ceux de l'islam.

Rien d'étonnant, dès lors, à ce que le Coran fasse plus de soixante références au mot umma, utilisé non comme une étiquette ethnique mais dans le sens de « communauté de croyants ». A plusieurs reprises, le texte note tristement que l'humanité fut jadis une seule umma, avant que les différences ne séparent les gens. Le message implicite, c'est que Dieu veut qu'on oublie les différences. Les similitudes des grandes religions monothéistes sont mises en relief dans le Coran et les hadith — les recueils de commentaires, déclarations et actes du Prophète — alors que leurs différences sont systématiquement minorées. On ne peut ignorer l'insistance mise à traiter juifs et chrétiens tout à la fois avec respect et tolérance.

On sait que les sources touchant cette période sont difficiles à interpréter parce qu'elles sont compliquées et contradictoires, mais aussi parce que nombre d'entre elles lui sont très postérieures. Toutefois, les récents progrès de la paléographie, la découverte de liasses de textes jusqu'alors inconnus et des méthodes toujours plus subtiles d'analyse des matériaux écrits transforment les points de vue anciens sur cette période épique de l'histoire. Ainsi, tandis que la tradition islamique a longtemps considéré que Muhammad est mort en 632, l'érudition récente laisse penser que le Prophète a pu vivre au-delà. De multiples sources des VIIe et VIIIe siècles attestent qu'un prédicateur charismatique - dont on a récemment suggéré qu'il s'agissait de Muhammad lui-même - a dirigé les forces arabes et les a conduites jusqu'aux portes de Jérusalem.

[...]

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La subtilité du nouveau régime était aussi apparente dans les questions d'administration. Le numéraire romain eut encore cours durant des décennies après les conquêtes, parallèlement à une monnaie nouvelle frappée des symboles familiers, au titre garanti de longtemps ; de même, les systèmes juridiques restaient largement intacts. Les conquérants adoptèrent les normes en vigueur dans quantités de domaines, y compris pour ce qui touchait aux

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héritages, douaires, serments et mariage, ainsi que pour le jeûne. Dans bien des cas, on laissait en place gouverneurs et administrateurs dans les anciens territoires sassanides et romains. Il s'agissait de simple arithmétique : les conquérants, qu'ils fussent arabes ou pas, vrais croyants (muminun) ou ceux qui les avaient rejoints et s'étaient soumis à leur autorité (muslimun), formaient une minorité permanente, ce qui signifiait qu'une collaboration avec la communauté locale n'était pas tant un choix qu'une nécessité.

Cette stratégie résultait aussi de ce qu'à l'échelle internationale de plus grandes batailles devraient être menées après les succès en Perse, en Palestine, en Syrie ou en Égypte. Le combat devait se poursuivre contre les vestiges écroulés de l'Empire romain. Constantinople elle-même fut soumise à une pression constante tant que les dirigeants arabes caressèrent le projet d'en finir avec les Romains une fois pour toutes. Encore plus important, toutefois, il y avait la bataille pour l'âme de l'islam.

À l'image des querelles internes des débuts du christianisme, établir précisément le message reçu par Muhammad, la manière de le retranscrire et de le diffuser - et auprès de qui - , suscita mille graves préoccupations après sa mort. Les luttes étaient féroces : des quatre premiers successeurs du Prophète, en tant que son représentant, successeur ou « calife », trois furent assassinés. Il y eut des disputes furieuses sur l'interprétation de ses enseignements, des efforts désespérés pour gauchir ou s'approprier son legs. Ce fut pour tenter de fixer précisément ce qu'avait été le message de Muhammad que l'ordre fut donné, très probablement dans le dernier quart du VIIe siècle, de le rédiger dans un seul volume, le Coran.

L'antagonisme entre factions rivales eut pour effet de durcir l'attitude à l'égard des non-musulmans. Chaque groupe prétendant garder plus fidèlement les paroles du

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Prophète, et donc la volonté de Dieu, il n'était peut-être pas étonnant que leur attention se tournât bientôt vers les kafir, ceux qui ne croyaient pas.

Les dirigeants musulmans s'étaient montrés tolérants et même charmants avec les chrétiens ; ils avaient rebâti l'église d'Édesse après sa destruction du fait d'un tremblement de terre en 679. Mais à la fin du VIIe siècle, les choses se mirent à changer. On se soucia de prosélytisme, de prédication et de conversion à l'islam des populations locales -- tout en adoptant une attitude de plus en plus hostile à leur égard.

[...]

Les conquêtes musulmanes achevèrent de repousser l'Europe dans l'obscurité, tombée avec les invasions des Goths, des Huns et consorts deux siècles plus tôt. Ce qui restait de l'Empire romain - désormais guère plus que Constantinople et son arrière-pays — se racornit et chancela au bord de l'effondrement complet. Le commerce de la Méditerranée chrétienne, qui déjà s'étiolait à la veille des guerres avec la Perse, s'effondra. Des villes jadis dynamiques comme Athènes et Corinthe rétrécirent sévèrement, leurs populations déclinèrent, leurs centres se firent quasi déserts. A partir du VIIe siècle, les épaves de naufrages — bon indicateur du volume des échanges commerciaux — disparaissent presque complètement. Le commerce non local prit tout simplement fin.

Le contraste avec le monde musulman n'aurait pu être plus grand. Les coeurs économiques de l'Empire romain et de la Perse n'avaient pas seulement été conquis, ils étaient réunis. L'Égypte et la Mésopotamie étaient reliées pour former le centre d'un nouveau titan économique et politique qui s'étirait de l'Himalaya à l'Atlantique. Malgré les querelles idéologiques, les rivalités, les paroxysmes occasionnels d'instabilité dans le monde islamique - tel le renversement du califat existant en 750 par la dynastie des Abbassides -, le nouvel empire ruisselait d'idées, de biens et d'argent. C'était du reste la raison précise de la révolution abbasside : les villes d'Asie centrale avaient ouvert la voie au changement de régime. C'est là que prospérait la spéculation intellectuelle, là que les révoltes se finançaient. C'est là que se prenaie les décisions critiques dans la bataille pour l'âme de l'islam.

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De riches mécènes entreprirent également de financer l'une des ères d'érudition les plus fastes de l'histoire. De brillants personnages, dont plusieurs n'étaient pas musulmans, furent attirés à la cour de Bagdad et dans les centres d'excellence universitaires à travers l'Asie centrale, tels Boukhara, Merv, Gundishapur et Ghazni, ainsi que plus loin en Espagne islamique ou en Égypte, pour travailler sur un large éventail de disciplines, dont les mathématiques, la philosophie, la physique et la géographie.

Un grand nombre de textes furent recueillis et traduits, du grec, du perse, du syriaque vers l'arabe : ils allaient de manuels de médecine équestre ou de sciences vétérinaires à des ouvrages de philosophie grecque. Dévorés par les érudits, ils constituaient autant de points de départ de nouvelles recherches. L'éducation et le savoir devinrent un idéal culturel. Ainsi de la famille des Barmécides, à l'origine une famille bouddhiste de Balkh, qui acquit influence et pouvoir dans la Bagdad du IXe siècle, commanda avec énergie la traduction d'une grande diversité de textes à partir du sanskrit vers l'arabe et fit même installer un moulinà papier pour favoriser une plus large diffusion de copies.

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Ou il y eut la famille Bukhtishu, des chrétiens de Gundishapur en Perse, qui suscita des générations d'intellectuels, auteurs de traités de médecine et même sur le mal d'amour - en même temps qu'ils étaient des praticiens, dont certains auprès du calife lui-même. Les textes médicaux rédigés à cette période ont formé le socle de la médecine islamique durant des siècles. « Comment est le pouls d'une personne souffrant d'anxiété ? » demande la question d'une suite de questions-réponses utilisée dans l'Égypte médiévale ; la réponse (« imperceptible, léger, irrégulier ») dit l'auteur, pouvait être trouvée dans une encyclopédie du Xe siècle.

La pharmacopée - l'art du mélange et de la fabrication des potions - recensait les expériences entreprises avec des substances comme 1'andropogon schoenanthus, les graines de myrte, le cumin et le vinaigre, les graines de céleri et le nard. D'autres travaillaient sur l'optique, avec Ibn al-Haytham, érudit vivant en Égypte, auteur d'un traité novateur sur la manière dont sont reliés vision et cerveau et qui se penche aussi sur ce qui différencie la perception et la connaissance.

Il y avait encore Abu Rayhan al-Biruni, qui prouva que la Terre gravitait autour du Soleil et tournait sur un axe. Ou des érudits comme Abu Ali Hussein ibn Sina, plus connu en Occident sous le nom d'Avicenne, qui a écrit sur la logique, la théologie, les mathématiques, la médecine et la philosophie, à chaque fois avec une intelligence, une clarté et une intégrité impressionnantes. « J'ai lu la Métaphysique d'Aristote, écrit-il, sans pouvoir en comprendre le contenu [...] même après y être revenu et l'avoir lue quarante fois, jusqu'au moment où je l'ai eu mémorisée. » Il s'agit d'un livre, ajoute-t-il dans une note qui réconfortera les étudiants de ce difficile ouvrage, « qu'il est impossible de comprendre ». Mais se trouvant un jour devant l'étal d'un libraire au marché, il acheta

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un exemplaire d'une analyse de l'ouvrage d'Aristote [...] Les érudits étaient fiers, non seulement de rassembler des matériaux de toutes les régions du monde, de les étudier, mais aussi de les traduire. « Les ouvrages des Indiens sont rendus (en arabe), la sagesse des Grecs est traduite, et la littérature des Persans (nous) a été transmise (aussi) », note un auteur ; « de ce fait, certains ouvrages ont gagné en beauté ». Quel dommage, juge-t-il, que l'arabe soit une langue si élégante qu'il soit presque impossible de la traduire.

C'était un âge d'or, une époque où les hommes brillants comme al-Kindi repoussaient les limites de la philosophie et de la science. On vit aussi briller des femmes, telle la poétesse du Xe siècle connue sous le nom de Rabia Balkhi, dans l'Afghanistan d'aujourd'hui, et qui a donné son nom à l'hôpital d'obstétrique de Kaboul ; ou Mahsati Ganjavi qui écrivit elle aussi un persan éloquent, parfaitement structuré, et assez osé 90.

Tandis que le monde musulman s'enchantait de l'innovation, du progrès et des idées neuves, une grande partie de l'Europe chrétienne se recroquevillait dans

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l'obscurité, amputée par le manque de ressources et faute de curiosité. Saint Augustin n'avait-il pas été ouvertementt hostile au concept d'investigation et de recherche ? «Les hommes veulent savoir pour savoir, écrit-il avec mépris, bien que le savoir ne leur soit d'aucune valeur. » La curiosité, selon lui, n'était rien de plus qu'une maladie.

Ce dédain pour la science et l'érudition décontenançait les observateurs musulmans, pleins de respect pour Ptolémée et Euclide, pour Homère et Aristote. Certains ne doutaient pas de son origine. Jadis, écrit l'historien al-Masudi, les Grecs et les Romains de l'Antiquité avaient permis aux sciences de fleurir ; puis ils adoptèrent le christianisme. Ce faisant, ils « effacèrent les signes du (savoir), éliminèrent ses traces et détruisirent ses sentiers ». La science avait été vaincue par la foi. C'est presque le contraire exact du monde que nous voyons aujourd'hui : les fanatiques n'étaient pas les musulmans, mais les chrétiens ; ceux dont l'esprit était ouvert, curieux et généreux étaient situés en Orient - certainement pas en Europe. Comme dit un auteur, quand il s'est agi de parler des contrées non islamiques, « nous ne les avons pas insérées (dans notre livre) car nous ne voyons pas la moindre utilité à les décrire ». Il s'agissait de déserts intellectuels.

Ce tableau de Lumières et de sophistication culturelle se reflétait aussi dans la manière dont on traitait les religions et les cultures minoritaires. Dans l'Espagne musulmane, les influences wisigothiques s'intégraient à un style architectural où la population soumise pouvait retrouver une continuation du passé immédiat, sans rien par conséquent d'agressif ou de triomphaliste. Nous disposons aussi des lettres expédiées par Timothée, le patriarche de l'Église d'Orient installé à Bagdad à la fin des VIIIe et IXe siècles, lesquelles décrivent un monde où les hauts dignitaires chrétiens entretenaient des relations

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personnelles, positives et suivies, avec le calife et où la chrétienté put conserver une base d'où dépêcher des missions évangéliques en Inde, en Chine, au Tibet et sur les steppes - en rencontrant à l'évidence un succès considérable 95. Ce schéma existait aussi en Afrique du Nord, où les communautés chrétiennes et juives survécurent, et peut-être même s'épanouirent, bien après les conquêtes musulmanes.

[…]

Chapitre 9. LA ROUTE DE L’ENFER

Gengis Khan venait d'une importante famille au sein de l'union tribale. On lui avait prédit son destin dès sa naissance en découvrant qu'il « serrait dans la dès sa droite un caillot de snig de la taille d'un osselet". C'était le signe propice de gloires à venir. En dépit de la redoutable réparation acquise au Moyen Âge - elle perdure - il édifia lentement sa position et son pouvoir, en nouant des accords avcc des chefs tribaux, en choisissant habilement ses alliés. Il choisissait tout aussi bien ses ennemis, et surtout à merveille le moment où les attaquer. Il regroupa autour de lui ses fidèles les plus ardents, tant comme une garde personnelle que comme un cercle intime infrangible constitué de guerriers (nökürs) sur lesquels s'appuyer entièrement. C'était un système fondé sur le mérite : aptitudes et loyauté comptaient davantage que l'origine tribale ou la parenté partagée avec le chef. En échange d'un soutien entier, celui-ci distribuait des biens, du butin, une situation. Le génie de Gengis Khan fut de pouvoir prodiguer ces bienfaits assez largement pour s'assurer la loyauté - et de le faire avec une régularité de métronomes.

Il le dut à un programme quasi incessant de conquêtes. L'une après l'autre, les tribus se rangeaient sous sa bannière, par force ou par menace, jusqu'à ce qu'il fût devenu le maître incontesté des steppes mongoliennes à l'horizon 1206. Il s'intéressa ensuite à un cercle plus large de peuples, tels les Kirghizes, les Oïrats et les Ouïghours situés à I'ouest de la Chine, en Asie centrale, qui se soumirent en prêtant de solennels serments d'allégeance. L'enrôlement du dernier peuple fut particulièrement important, comme l'illustre le cadeau fait au chef ouïghour, Barshuq, d'une fille de Gengis après qu'il eut déclaré vouloir devenir son « cinquième fils". Les Ouïghours, en effet, disposaient de larges territoires dans le bassin du Tarim ; d'autre part, leur langue, leur alphabet

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et ce qu'un historien moderne appelle leurs litterati (lettrés) prenaient de plus en plus d'importance en Mongolie. Leur statut culturel élevé expliquait qu'on recrutât en masse leurs scribes, dont un certain « Tatar Tonga », qui devint le précepteur des fils de Gengis Khan.

Après quoi, le conquérant considéra des cibles plus ambitieuses. À partir de 1211, les Mongols lancèrent une série d'attaques sur la Chine, alors régie par la dynastie Jin, dont ils dévastèrent la capitale, Zhongdu, obligeant ses souverains à l'évacuer et à la refonder toujours plus au sud, non sans que les envahisseurs fissent un important butin. Leur expansion fut encore plus remarquable vers l'ouest. Le moment n'aurait pu être mieux choisi. L'autorité centrale du monde musulman s'était affaiblie au cours du XIIe siècle avec l'émergence d'un damier d'États aux tailles, aptitudes et stabilités diverses qui contestaient la primauté de Bagdad. De fait, le chef des Khwarismiens n'avait cessé d'éliminer ses rivaux immédiats, dans l'idée de s'étendre lui-même vers l'est, en Chine. La consolidation qui s'ensuivit eut simplement pour effet, après l'inévitable victoire des Mongols et la fuite du vaincu sur une île de la Caspienne où il mourut peu après, d'ouvrir grande la porte de l'Asie centrale aux envahisseurs : on leur avait frayé la route.

Les documents nous dressent un tableau saillant de la vile sauvagerie dans laquelle s'opéra l'assaut sur Khwarezm en 1219. Les envahisseurs, écrit un historien, « arrivèrent, ils sapèrent, brûlèrent, tuèrent, pillèrent et s'en furent ». J'aimerais n'être jamais né, dit un autre, car je n'aurais jamais eu à passer par de telles épreuves. Au moins l'Antéchrist musulman ne détruira-t-il que ses ennemis, poursuit-il ; les Mongols, par contre, « n'ont épargné personne. Ils ont tué les femmes, les hommes, les enfants, éventré les femmes grosses et massacré leur fruit à naître ».

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Les Mongols entretenaient soigneusement frayeurs, car en vérité Gengis Khan n'employait la violence que de manière sélective et délibérée. S'il mettait sac une ville, c'était pour en inciter d'autres à se soumettre aussi vite que paisiblement ; des exécutions d'une horreur théâtrale servaient à persuader d'autres souverains qu'il valait mieux négocier que résister. Nichapur est l'un des sites qui connut une dévastation complète. Tous les êtres vivants - depuis les femmes et les enfants, les vieillards jusqu'au bétail - furent massacrés, ordre étant donné que pas même les chiens et les chats fussent épargnés. On empila ensuite tous les cadavres pour faire d'énormes pyramides, atroces mises en garde quant aux conséquences qu'il y aurait à tenir tête aux Mongols. Cela suffit à convaincre les autres villes de déposer les armes et négocier : c'était une question de vie ou de mort.

Les nouvelles voyageaient vite sur le sort attendant ceux qui prenaient le temps de décider. On parlait partout, par exemple, de tel personnage de haut rang convoqué devant un seigneur de la guerre mongol récemment arrivé : on lui avait versé de l'argent fondu dans les yeux et les oreilles. On savait aussi que cette exécution s'était accompagnée d'une sentence : c'était le juste châtiment d'un homme « à qui sa conduite ignoble, ses actes barbares et ses cruels procédés avaient valu la réprobation de tous ». C'était un avertissement pour qui songeait à se mettre en travers des Mongols. On récompenserait la soumission paisible ; la résistance serait brutalement chàtiée.

L'usage de la force fait par Gengis Khan était technologiquement avancé et d'une stratégie élaborée. Faire un long siège de cibles fortifiées était cher et risqué à cause des besoins d'entretien d'une vaste armée de cavaliers : il lui fallait tant de pâtures que les alentours étaient vite épuisés. Aussi les techniciens militaires à même d'obtenir

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une victoire rapide étaient-ils fort estimés. À Nichapur en 1211, on nous apprend que 3 000 arbalètes géantes furent utilisées, ainsi que 3 000 catapultes et 700 balistes

projetant des objets enflammés. Plus tard, les Mongols se passionnèrent pour les techniques inventées par les Européens d'Occident : ils copièrent les plans de bombardes et d'engins de siège créés pour les croisés en Terre sainte et s'en servirent contre des cibles d'Extrêmee-Orient à la fin du XIIIe siècle. Qui contrôlait les routes de la soie avait accès à des informations et des idées qui pouvaient être reproduites et utilisées à des milliers de kilomètres.

Chose étrange si l'on songe â leur réputation, l'une des explications des succès stupéfiants des Mongols dans la Chine du début du XIIIe siècle, en Asie centrale et au-delà, tient dans le fait qu'ils n'étaient pas toujours considérés comme des oppresseurs. Et à juste titre : s'agissant des Khwarismiens, par exemple, la population locale avait reçu l'ordre de payer un an d'impôts à l'avance pour financer la construction de nouvelles fortifications autour de Samarcande, outre la solde des bataillons d'archers contre l'attaque mongole imminente. Infliger semblable pression fiscale aux foyers n'était pas la meilleure façon de se les attacher. Au contraire, les Mongols investissaient sans compter dans l'infrastructure de certaines de leurs nouvelles villes. Tel moine chinois ayant visité Samarcande peu après sa prise fut stupéfait d'y voir tant d'artisans venus de Chine et combien de travailleurs arrivaient des environs ou de plus loin pour aider à cultiver les champs et les vergers laissés en déshérence.

C'était un schéma qui se reproduisait régulièrement : l'argent se déversait dans des villes qui étaient reconstruites et redynamisées, en prêtant une attention particulière au développement des arts, de l'artisanat et de la

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production. La caricature du Mongol barbare et destructeur est loin de la réalité ; c'est le legs erroné des histoires écrites plus tard qui ont avant tout insisté sur la ruine et la dévastation. Cette vision gauchie du passé nous invite à nous rappeler que les dirigeants désireux de rester dans la postérité ont tout intérêt à enrôler des historiographes qui parleront en bien de leur ère ou de leur empire — chose que les Mongols manquèrent visiblement de faire.

Chapitre 12. LA ROUTE DE L’ARGENT

[...]

Les Moghols apportaient de nouvelles idées, des goûts styles inédits. La peinture de miniatures, longtemps prônée par les Mongols et les Timurides, était désormais doptée par les nouveaux souverains, qui réunirent les plus grands praticiens de tout l'empire pour créer une école dynamique d'arts plastiques. Les concours de lutte, courses de pigeons voyageurs, deux passe-temps ppréciés en Asie centrale, devinrent très populaires. L'innovation architecturale et paysagère était encore plus remarquable : l'influence des édifices et des sites

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inaugurés et parachevés à Samarcande se propagea dans tout l'empire. Les résultats sen voient encore aujourd'hui. Le superbe tombeau d'Humayun,à Delhi, n'est pas qu'un clrcí-d'oeuvre de conception timuride, réalisé par un architecte de Boukhara, mais le jalon d'une nouvelle ère de l'histoire indienne. De nouveaux styles de paysage étaient aussi introduits, qui transformaient davantage le bâti dans sa relation avec l'environnement, dans un registre empruntant beaucoup aux pratiques et theories d'Asie centrale. Lahore donna naissance à de nobles monuments, à des espaces ouverts soigneusement tracés. Grâce à leurs énormes ressources, poussés par la Fortune, les Moghols transformèrent l'empire à leur image. Ils le firent à une échelle inouïe.

La ville de Fatehpur Sikri, érigée dans la seconde moitié du XVIe siècle comme nouvelle capitale, incarne avec éclat les moyens apparemment illimités comme les ambitions impériales de l'optimiste maison régnante. Une succession raffinée de cours et de bâtiments de grès rouge y associe les styles et décorations de Perse et d'Asie centrale à ceux de l'Inde, pour créer une cour splendide où le souverain recevait les visiteurs sans qu'ils puissent douter un instant de son pouvoir.

Un monument célébrissime témoigne de l'immense fortune construite grâce aux fonds arrivant d'Europe, le mausolée édifié par Shah Jahan pour son épouse Mumtaz, au début du XVIIe siècle. En mémoire de sa mort, Shah Jahan fit distribuer quantités de nourriture et

d'argent aux pauvres. Une fois qu'un site d'inhumation convenable eut été choisi, l'équivalent de millions de dollars d'aujourd'hui fut consacré à l'édification d'un édifice sommé d'une coupole puis davantage encore à l'ajout d'une partition en or, à des coupoles décorées d'émaux de la meilleure qualité dans un festoiement d'or. On ajouta des pavillons « entourés de superbes dais » de part et d'autre du mausolée, lui-même serti dans un jardin tout autour. La fondation fut dotée d'un revenu prélevé sur les marchés voisins pour assurer son digne entretien dans l'avenir.

Pour beaucoup, le Taj Mahal est le monument le plus romantique du monde, l'illustration extraordinaire de l'amour conjugal. Il exprime quelque chose d'autre : le commerce international mondialisé qui enrichit à ce point le souverain moghol qu'il put imaginer rendre un hommage aussi extraordinaire à son épouse bien-aimée. 1l fut en mesure de l'achever grâce à un profond déplacement de l'axe du monde, car la gloire de l'Europe et de l'Inde se fit aux dépens des Amériques.

La somptueuse expression du chagrin de Shah Jahan après la mort de sa femme trouve un pendant dans celui qui s'était manifesté peu avant de l'autre côté de la terre.

L'Empire maya, lui aussi, était prospère avant l'arrivée des Européens. « II n'y avait pas de maladie, à l'époque ; ils ne souffraient pas des os ; ils n'avaient pas de grandes fièvres ; ils n'avaient pas la variole ; pas de douleurs gastriques pas de consomption. [...] En ce temps-là, la population se tenait droite. Mais alors les teules arrivèrent et tout s'effondra. Ils apportèrent la peur et vinrent flétrir les fleurs. » Ainsi s'exprimait un auteur peu après les événements. L'or et l'argent pillés en Amérique trouvèrent le chemin de l'Asie ; c'est par cette circulation de l'argent que le Taj Mahal put être construit.

Il n'est pas sans ironie de songer que l'une des splendeurs de l'Inde résultait des souffrances des « Indiens » de l'autre côté du monde. Les continents, désormais, étaient reliés les uns aux autres, reliés par des flots d'argent. Ils en incitèrent beaucoup à chercher fortune dans l'émigration ; à la fin du XVIe siècle, un Anglais passant à Ormuz dans le golfe Persique signale que la ville grouille de « Français, Flamands, Almains, Hongrois, Italiens, Grecs, Arméniens, Nazaranies, de Turcs et de Maures, de Juifs et de Gentils, de Persans [et de] Muscovites ». L'appel

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de l'Orient étaitpuissant. Il n'y avait pas que la pensée du profit commercial qui attirât de plus en plus d'Européens, mais la simple perspective d'un emploi bien payé.

Canonniers, pilotes, navigateurs, commandants de galères ou charpentiers navals étaient partout très demandés, en Perse, en Inde, dans la péninsule malaise et même au Japon. Ceux qui souhaitaient un nouveaudépart - déserteurs, criminels et indésirables -, dont le savoir-faire et l'expérience avaient du prix pour les souverains locaux, pouvaient saisir leur chance. Ceux qui s'en tiraient le mieux étaient capables de devenir des principicules indépendants, en quelque sorte, comme il advint dans la baie du Bengale et la mer des Moluques, où un Hollandais chanceux découvrit qu'il pouvait s'ébaudir « avec autant de femmes qu'il voulait », chanter et danser « tout le jour, quasi nu » et totalement enivré.

[...]

L’anarchie en Indes suivant la chute de l’empire Moghol ⁸⁶

INTRODUCTION

L'un des premiers mots indiens à entrer dans la langue anglaise fut loot, qui signifie « butin » en argot hindoustani. Selon l'Oxford English Dictionary, on l'entendait rarement hors des plaines de l'Inde du Nord avant la fin du XVIIIe siècle, où il est soudain devenu un terme courant en Grande-Bretagne. Pour comprendre comment et pourquoi il s'est enraciné et répandu dans une contrée si lointaine, il suffit de visiter Powis Castle dans les marches galloises.
Le dernier prince de sang gallois, au nom mémorable d'Owain Gruffydd ap Gwenwynwyn, fit construire au mue siècle cette forteresse escarpée ; elle le récompensait d'avoir cédé le pays de Galles à la monarchie anglaise. Mais les trésors spectaculaires que recèle le château datent d'une période bien plus récente de conquêtes et d'appropriation anglaises.
Powis Castle abrite en effet, salle après salle, un butin pillé en Inde par l'East India Company au xviiie siècle. Plus d'objets moghols sont exposés dans cette demeure de la campagne galloise que nulle part en Inde — même au National Museum de Delhi. Parmi ces richesses, des hookahs, sortes de narguilés en or incrusté d'acajou ; des spinelles du Badakhshan superbement gravées et des dagues ornées de pierres précieuses ; des rubis étincelants de couleur sang de pigeon et quantité d'émeraudes vert lézard. Des têtes de tigres, décorées, de saphirs et
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de topazes ; des accessoires de jade et d'ivoire ; des tentures de soie aux broderies représentant des fleurs de pavot et de lotus ; des statues de dieux hindous et des caparaçons d'éléphants. En bonne place trônent deux imposants trophées de guerre pris après la défaite et la mise à mort de leurs propriétaires : le palanquin que Siraj ud-Daula, nawab du Bengale, abandonna en fuyant le champ de bataille de Plassey, et la tente de campagne de Tipu Sultan, le Tigre de Mysore.
Ces trésors exercent une telle fascination sur le visiteur que, l'été dernier, j'ai failli ne pas voir l'immense tableau expliquant comment ce butin était arrivé jusque-là. Accroché au-dessus d'une porte, dans la pénombre d'un couloir donnant sur une cage d'escalier lambrissée de chêne, ce tableau n'est pas un chef-d'oeuvre, mais il mérite qu'on s'y arrête. Un frêle prince indien, dans un habit en tissu lamé d'or, siège sous un dais tendu de soie. A sa gauche plusieurs de ses officiers, armés de cimeterres et de lances ; à sa droite un groupe de gentlemen emperruqués de l'Angleterre georgienne. Le prince remet avec empressement un rouleau à l'un d'eux, ventripotent dans sa redingote rouge.
La scène se déroule en août 1765, date à laquelle le jeune empereur moghol Shah Alam, exilé de Delhi et vaincu par l'armée de l'East India Company (EIC), fut contraint d'accepter ce que l'on appellerait aujourd'hui une privatisation forcée. Le rouleau est un édit congédiant les collecteurs d'impôt moghols du Bengale, du Bihar et de l'Orissa pour les remplacer par des administrateurs anglais nommés par Robert Clive — le nouveau gouverneur du Bengale — et par les directeurs de l'EIC, que le document décrit comme « une puissante élite, noble entre toutes, d'illustres combattants, fidèles serviteurs et sincères défenseurs de nos intérêts, dignes de nos faveurs royales ». La collecte de l'impôt dans les territoires moghols fut dès lors sous-traitée à une puissante corporation multinationale — et menée sous la protection de l'armée privée de celle-ci.
Autorisée par sa charte fondatrice à « guerroyer », l'East India Company usait de la force pour arriver à ses fins depuis l'abordage et la capture, en 1602, d'un vaisseau portugais lors de son premier voyage. Elle contrôlait en outre, depuis les années 1630, de petits territoires voisins de ses comptoirs en Inde'. Ce fut toutefois en 1765 qu'elle cessa d'être, de
26 près ou de loin, une simple firme faisant le commerce des soieries et des épices, et opéra une transformation inhabituelle. En quelques mois, deux cent cinquante de ses administrateurs, protégés par une armée de vingt mille soldats indiens recrutés sur place, étaient devenus les véritables gouvernants des provinces mogholes les plus riches. Une corporation internationale se métamorphosait en un pouvoir colonial agressif.
En 1803, alors que son armée totalisait près de deux cent mille hommes, l'East India Company avait soumis ou annexé le sous-continent. Contre toute attente, elle y était parvenue en moins d'un demi-siècle. Les premières vraies conquêtes territoriales avaient commencé au Bengale en 1756 ; quarante-sept ans plus tard, l'emprise de la Compagnie s'étendait au nord jusqu'à Delhi, la capitale moghole, et la quasi-totalité de l'Inde au sud de cette ville était en réalité gouvernée par un conseil d'administration depuis la City de Londres. « Que reste-t-il de notre honneur, demanda un dignitaire moghol, quand il nous faut obéir aux ordres d'une poignée de marchands qui n'ont toujours pas appris à se laver le derrière/2? »
On parle encore de la conquête des Indes par les Britanniques, mais cette formule masque une réalité plus sinistre. Ce ne fut pas le gouvernement britannique qui entreprit d'annexer d'immenses parties du pays au milieu du xvtue siècle, mais une compagnie privée dangereusement incontrôlable dont le siège se trouvait dans un petit bureau londonien percé de cinq fenêtres, et dirigée en Inde par un prédateur violent, impitoyable et cyclothymique : Robert Clive. La transition de l'Inde vers le colonialisme s'opéra sous l'influence d'une société commerciale à but lucratif, qui n'était là que pour enrichir ses investisseurs.
À l'apogée de l'ère victorienne, au milieu du xIxe siècle, existait un fort sentiment de gêne quant à la façon trouble, brutale et mercantile dont les Britanniques avaient fondé le Raj. Les victoriens pensaient que l'histoire était façonnée par la politique des États-nations. Cela, et non les impératifs économiques de compagnies corrompues, constituait pour eux le facteur déterminant, le véritable moteur de l'évolution des affaires humaines. En outre, ils croyaient volontiers à la
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mission civilisatrice  de leur empire : un transfert bénéfique des connaissances, des chemins de fer et des pratiques culturelles de l'Occident vers l'Orient. D'où une amnésie calculée, délibérée, au sujet des pillages de l'East India Company, qui précédèrent la prise du pouvoir par les Britanniques en Inde.
Une seconde scène, celle-là commandée à William Rothenstein et peinte sur les murs de la Chambre des communes, prouve la subtile réécriture par les victoriens de l'histoire officielle du processus. Elle se trouve toujours à St Stephen's Hall, la salle de réception du Parlement de Westminster résonnante d'échos. Elle appartenait à un ensemble de fresques intitulé The Building of Britain — l'édification de la Grande-Bretagne. Chacune représente ce que la Commission des oeuvres d'art considérait alors comme les épisodes et tournants marquants de l'histoire britannique : victoire du roi Alfred sur les Danois en 877, union parlementaire de l'Angleterre et de l'Écosse en 1707, etc.
Au sein de cet ensemble, la fresque consacrée à l'Inde dépeint encore un prince moghol trônant sous un dais. C'est à nouveau un décor de cour, avec un cercle de serviteurs déférents et de joueurs de trompette, et un Anglais debout devant le prince. Mais cette fois le rapport de force est très différent.
Sir Thomas Roe, l'ambassadeur envoyé par Jacques Ier d'Angleterre à la cour des Moghols, se tient devant l'empereur Jahangir en 1614 — époque à laquelle l'Empire moghol était au sommet de sa richesse et de sa puissance. Jahangir avait reçu en héritage d'Akbar, son père, l'une des deux entités politiques les plus prospères au monde, l'autre étant la Chine des Ming. Ses territoires couvraient la majeure partie de l'Inde, la totalité du Pakistan et du Bangladesh actuels, et l'essentiel de l'Afghanistan. Il régnait sur une population cinq fois supérieure à celle de l'Empire ottoman — une centaine de millions de personnes — et ses sujets fabriquaient environ le quart des produits manufacturés sur la planète.
Akbar, le père de Jahangir, avait caressé l'idée de civiliser les immigrants européens en Inde, qu'il décrivait comme « une assemblée de barbares mais il abandonna ce projet apparemment irréalisable. Jahangir, qui avait le goût de l'exotisme et
  En français dans le texte. (Toutes les notes sont de l'auteur.)
des animaux sauvages, accueillit Sir Thomas Roe avec autant d'enthousiasme qu'il en avait manifesté à l'arrivée de la première dinde en Inde, et questionna méthodiquement l'ambassadeur sur les bizarreries de l'Europe. Pour la commission qui avait commandé les fresques de la Chambre des communes, cela marquait le début de l'engagement britannique en Inde : deux États-nations entraient pour la première fois en contact direct. Cependant, comme on le verra dans le premier chapitre de cet ouvrage, les relations de la Grande-Bretagne avec l'Inde commencèrent non par des échanges diplomatiques et des rencontres entre émissaires royaux ou impériaux, mais par une mission commerciale que conduisait William Hawkins, un capitaine alcoolique au service de l'East India Company qui, arrivé à Agra, accepta l'épouse offerte par l'empereur et se fit un plaisir de la ramener en Angleterre. La Commission des oeuvres d'art de la Chambre des communes a préféré oublier cette version.
L'EIC était à plus d'un titre un modèle d'efficacité commerciale : un siècle après sa naissance, son siège londonien ne disposait que de trente-cinq employés permanents. Cette modeste équipe réussit néanmoins une prise de contrôle historiquement sans équivalent : la conquête militaire, la soumission et le pillage d'immenses territoires de l'Asie du Sud. Cela reste certainement un acte de violence économique inégalé dans l'histoire mondiale.
Les historiens proposent quantité de raisons pour expliquer la réussite sidérante de la Compagnie : le morcellement de l'Inde moghole en minuscules Etats rivaux ; la supériorité que les innovations militaires de Frédéric le Grand avaient conférée aux compagnies européennes, de même que les innovations en matière de gouvernance, de fiscalité et de finances, qui permirent à l'East India Company de lever sans préavis des sommes considérables. Car derrière les uniformes écarlates, l'architecture palladienne des palais, la chasse au tigre et les bals du gouverneur se cachaient les livres de comptes des administrateurs, où étaient consignés les pertes et profits, et le cours fluctuant des actions de l'EIC à la Bourse de Londres.
Mais le facteur crucial fut sans doute le soutien dont bénéficiait la Compagnie de la part du Parlement britannique. Leur relation devint de plus en plus symbiotique au fil du
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XVIIIe siècle, jusqu'à se transformer en ce que l'on appellerait aujourd'hui un partenariat public-privé. De retour au pays, les nabobs comme Clive achetèrent grâce à leur fortune des sièges de parlementaires — les fameuses « circonscriptions pourries ». En contrepartie, le Parlement apportait le soutien de l'État : les navires et les soldats nécessaires quand les deux Compagnies, anglaise et française, retournaient leurs canons l'une contre l'autre.
Car l'East India Company avait toujours deux objectifs en vue : d'abord les territoires où elle commerçait, mais aussi le pays qui lui avait donné naissance, et dont ses avocats, lob-byistes et actionnaires élus au Parlement infléchissaient lentement la législation en sa faveur. D'ailleurs c'est peut-être elle qui inventa le lobbying. En 1693, moins d'un siècle après sa fondation, on découvrit qu'elle utilisait ses profits boursiers pour acheter les voix de certains élus, distribuant 1 200 livres par an aux ministres et députés influents. Au terme d'une enquête parlementaire sur ce premier scandale de lobbying au monde, la Compagnie fut reconnue coupable de corruption et de délit d'initiés, ce qui entraîna la destitution du lord président du conseil d'administration et l'emprisonnement du gouverneur de la Compagnie.
Bien que son capital commercial ait été en permanence à la disposition de l'État britannique, l'East India Company s'enorgueillissait d'être juridiquement distincte du gouvernement, quand cela l'arrangeait. Elle fit valoir avec force, et avec succès, que le document signé par Shah Alam en 1765 — connu sous le nom de Diwani — était sa propriété légale et non celle de la Couronne, malgré les sommes énormes dépensées par le gouvernement pour les opérations navales et militaires destinées à défendre les acquisitions de l'EIC en Inde. Mais les parlementaires qui avaient voté pour cette distinction juridique n'étaient pas vraiment neutres : près d'un quart d'entre eux détenaient des actions de la Compagnie, dont la valeur aurait chuté si la Couronne avait pris le relais. Pour la même raison, la nécessité de protéger la Compagnie de la concurrence extérieure devint un objectif majeur de la politique étrangère britannique.
La transaction dépeinte sur le tableau exposé au château de Powis devait avoir des conséquences catastrophiques.
Comme toutes les grandes corporations d'hier et d'aujourd'hui, l'EIC ne rendait de comptes qu'à ses actionnaires. Au détriment d'une juste gouvernance de la région ou du bien-ètre à long terme de la population, elle usa aussitôt de son pouvoir pour piller méthodiquement le Bengale et en transférer les richesses vers l'Occident
Déjà dévasté par la guerre, le Bengale fut peu après frappé par la famine de 1769, puis ruiné par le poids de l'impôt. Les agents de la Compagnie chargés de la collecte dépouillèrent la province — au prix de ce que l'on décrirait aujourd'hui comme de graves violations des droits humains. Le Bengale fut rapidement vidé de ses trésors au profit de la Grande-Bretagne, tandis que ses artisans et tisserands prospères étaient contraints par leurs nouveaux maîtres à se transformer « en autant d'esclaves ».
Une vaste proportion des richesses pillées au Bengale alla directement dans les poches de Clive. Il regagna la Grande-Bretagne à la tête d'une fortune alors estimée à 234 000 livres, qui faisait de lui le plus riche des self-made-men en Europe. En 1757, après la bataille de Plassey — une victoire due autant à la traîtrise, aux faux en écriture, aux banquiers et à la corruption qu'aux prouesses militaires —, il ajouta au trésor de guerre de l'EIC pas moins de 2,5 millions de livres  confisquées aux gouvernants vaincus du Bengale — des sommes sans précédent à l'époque. Cela se fit sans grande sophistication. Le contenu des coffres fut simplement chargé à bord de cent navires, et transporté au fil du Gange depuis le palais du nawab du Bengale à Murshidabad jusqu'au fort William, siège de la Compagnie à Calcutta. Une partie de ce butin servit plus tard à la reconstruction de Powis Castle.
Le tableau de Clive et de Shah Alam exposé à Powis Castle donne subtilement le change : le peintre, Benjamin West, n'avait jamais mis les pieds en Inde. A l'époque, déjà, un critique fit observer que la mosquée à l'arrière-plan présentait une ressemblance troublante avec « le vénérable dôme de notre cathédrale Saint-Paul ». En réalité, il n'y avait pas eu de cérémonie officielle. Le transfert s'était déroulé en prisé dans la tente de Clive, dressée peu avant sur l'esplanade de
  Soit 262,5 millions de livres actuelles.
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la forteresse moghole d'Allahabad conquise de fraîche date. Quant au trône de Shah Alam sous son dais tendu de soie, c'était en fait le fauteuil de Clive, hissé pour l'occasion sur la table où il prenait ses repas, recouverte d'un jeté de lit en chintz.
Les Britanniques officialisèrent ensuite le document en le baptisant traité d'Allahabad, bien que Clive en ait dicté les termes et qu'un Shah Alain terrifié se soit contenté d'approuver d'un geste. Selon Ghulam Hussain Khan, un historien moghol témoin de la scène : « Une entreprise de cette portée, qui eût en toute autre occasion requis l'envoi d'ambassadeurs avisés et de négociateurs compétents, ainsi que nombre de tractations et pourparlers avec les ministres, fut réglée en moins de temps qu'il n'en fallait d'ordinaire pour la vente d'un baudet, d'une bête de somme ou d'une tête de bétail/3. »
En peu de temps, l'EIC étendit son emprise sur le globe. Presque à elle seule, elle inversa le sens des échanges commerciaux qui, depuis l'Empire romain, avaient conduit à un afflux continuel d'argent occidental vers l'Orient. Assurant le transport par mer de l'opium vers la Chine, elle mena les guerres de l'Opium pour s'assurer une base arrière à Hong Kong et préserver son précieux monopole sur les stupéfiants.
Elle expédiait vers l'ouest du thé de Chine au Massachusetts, où une cargaison jetée à la mer dans le port de Boston déclencha la guerre d'Indépendance aux États-Unis. D'ailleurs, avant cette guerre, les Patriotes américains avaient pour principale crainte que le Parlement britannique n'autorise l'EIC à piller le continent comme elle avait pillé l'Inde. L'un d'entre eux, John Dickinson, qualifia en novembre 1773 le thé importé de Chine de « maudite Camelote » et déclara que l'éventuelle mainmise de la Compagnie sur les États-Unis équivaudrait à « se faire dévorer par les Rats ». Toujours selon lui, après s'être livrée au Bengale à « des Atrocités et des Extorsions sans précédent pour établir son Monopole », cette « Compagnie au bord de la banqueroute . avait désormais « élu l'Amérique comme nouveau Théâtre d'Opérations où exercer son talent pour la Rapine, l'Oppression et la Cruauté »/4.
En 1803, quand l'EIC conquit Delhi, la capitale moghole, et captura le monarque aveugle Shah Alam dans son palais en ruine, elk avait formé une milice privée forte d'environ
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deux cent mille hommes - deux fois plus que dans l'armée britannique - et disposait d'une puissance de feu supérieure à celle de n'importe quel État asiatique.
Une poignée d'hommes d'affaires venus d'une île lointaine au large de l'Europe régnait à présent sur l'Inde du Nord, de Delhi à l'ouest jusqu'à la province de l'Assam à l'est. La quasi-totalité de la côte orientale était aux mains de la Compagnie, ainsi que tous les points stratégiques de la côte occidentale entre le Gujarat et le cap Comorin. En un peu plus de quarante ans, l'EIC avait pris le contrôle de presque tout le sous-continent - entre cinquante et soixante millions d'habitants - et succédait à un empire où le moindre nawab ou gouverneur de province régnait sur de vastes territoires, plus importants par leur taille et leur population que les principaux pays européens.
Comme le reconnut l'un de ses administrateurs, la Compagnie était « un empire dans l'Empire », capable de faire la pluie et le beau tempss n'importe où en Orient. A ce stade, elle avait en outre créé une administration et une fonction publique efficaces, construit la majeure partie de la zone portuaire de Londres - connue aujourd'hui sous le nom de Docklands -, et générait près de la moitié des échanges commerciaux britanniques. Pas étonnant qu'elle se soit alors vantée d'être « la plus importante société marchande de l'Univers ».
Pourtant, comme certaines corporations multinationales de création plus récente, elle se révéla aussi puissante qu'étrangement vulnérable aux aléas économiques. Sept ans seulement après la signature du Diwani, alors que le cours des actions de la Compagnie avait doublé du jour au lendemain grâce à l'acquisition des richesses du Bengale, une chute brutale des revenus fonciers due aux pillages et à la famine provoqua l'éclatement de la bulle spéculative. L'EIC allait devoir rembourser à la Couronne 1,5 million de livres de dettes et 1 million de livres d'arriérés d'impôts87 . Sitôt cette information rendue publique, trente banques tombèrent dans toute l'Europe tels des dominos, donnant un coup d'arrêt aux échanges commerciaux.
Lors d'un épisode qui nous paraît aujourd'hui terriblement familier, la Compagnie dut faire amende honorable et demander au gouvernement un renflouement massif. Le 15 juillet 1772,
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ses administrateurs empruntèrent 400 000 livres à la banque d'Angleterre. Quinze jours plus tard, ils réclamèrent 300 000 livres supplémentaires. La banque ne leur accorda que 200 000 livres . Au mois d'août, les administrateurs informèrent le gouvernement qu'il leur faudrait en réalité la somme sans précédent d'un million de livres de l'époque. Un an plus tard, dans son rapport officiel, Edmund Burke redoutait que les problèmes financiers de la Compagnie ne risquent, « telle la roue d'une meule de pierre, d'entraîner [le gouvernement] dans des abîmes insondables... Pareille à une vipère, cette maudite Compagnie finira par causer la destruction du pays qui l'a portée en son sein. »
Mais l'EIC était vraiment trop énorme pour disparaître. Aussi l'année suivante, en 1773, l'ancêtre des multinationales prédatrices fut-elle sauvée par l'un des premiers méga-renflouements de l'histoire : un Etat-nation obtenait, contre le sauvetage d'une société en faillite, le droit de lui imposer des règles et un contrôle strict de ses pratiques.
§
Cet ouvrage ne vise pas à fournir une histoire complète de l'East India Company, et encore moins une analyse économique de ses activités marchandes. Il tente de répondre à la question de savoir comment une société commerciale, basée dans un immeuble de bureaux londonien, a pu remplacer entre 1756 et 1803 le puissant Empire moghol à la tête du sous-continent indien.
Il raconte comment la Compagnie vainquit ses principaux rivaux — les nawabs du Bengale et de l'Aoudh, Tipu Sultan et son sultanat de Mysore, ainsi que l'importante confédération marathe — pour prendre sous son aile l'empereur Shah Alam qui fut réduit, cinq décennies durant, à être le témoin impuissant de la conquête de l'Inde, et de l'ascension d'une humble société marchande jusqu'au statut de puissance impériale à part entière. La vie de Shah Alam forme d'ailleurs la trame du récit qui va suivre.
  Respectivement 42 millions, 31,5 millions et 21 millions de livres actuelles.
On admet aujourd'hui que, contrairement à ce qu'affirmaient dans leurs écrits les précédentes générations d'historiens, le xv[Ile siècle en Inde ne fut pas un « Moyen Âge ».
Le déclin politique de l'Empire moghol provoqua plutôt une relance économique dans d'autres parties du sous-continent, et de nombreuses recherches universitaires sont récemment venues approfondir notre compréhension sur ce points. Ces excellents travaux sur une relance dans les régions ne contredisent pas la réalité de l'anarchie qui désorganisa le coeur de l'Empire moghol, entre Delhi et Agra, pendant la majeure partie du xvme siècle. Comme l'écrivait alors Fakir Khair ud-Din Illahabadi : « ... le désordre et la corruption ne se cachaient plus, et le royaume des Indes, autrefois paisible, devint celui de l'Anarchie (dâr al-amn-i Hindûstân dâr al-fitan gasht) . La monarchie moghole perdit toute substance, elle n'était plus qu'un nom, que l'ombre d'elle-mêmes. »
Cette réalité de l'anarchie ayant été attestée non seulement par quelques aristocrates moghols inconsolables comme Fakir Khair ud-Din et Ghulam Hussain Khan, mais aussi par tous les voyageurs de l'époque, je crois que le processus révisionniste est allé un peu trop loin. De Law et Modave à Pollier et Franklin, presque tous les témoins de la situation en Inde à la fin du avilie siècle mentionnent à plusieurs reprises des massacres et un chaos ininterrompu à l'époque, ainsi que la difficulté de se déplacer dans le pays sans une escorte lourdement armée. Ils furent d'ailleurs les premiers à accréditer la thèse de la « Grande Anarchie ».
Les nombreuses guerres de l'East India Company et son pillage du Bengale, du Bihar et de l'Orissa, surtout entre les années 1750 et 1770, contribuèrent largement à ce climat troublé, et dans des régions très éloignées de Delhi. D'où le titre que j'ai donné à mon livre. L'équilibre est de toute évidence difficile à trouver entre l'histoire militaire d'une période tendue, chaotique et violente, et la consolidation à long terme de nouvelles structures politiques, économiques et sociales comme celles que Richard Barnett et Chris Bayly, mon vénérable professeur à Cambridge, se sont appliqués à mettre en lumière. Je crois que nul n'a encore découvert comment concilier ces différents niveaux d'action et d'analyse, mais cet ouvrage est une tentative pour résoudre la quadrature du cercle.

L’empire Perse

THE CENTRAL ISLAMIC LANDS [PERSIA and CENTRAL ASIA] ⁸⁸

CHAPTER 5 SAFAVID PERSIA ⁸⁹

Despite recent research, the origins of the Safavid family are still obscure. Such evidence as we have seems to suggest that the family hailed from Kurdistan. What does seem certain is that the Safavids were of native Iranian stock, and spoke Azari, the form of Turkish used in Azarbâyjân. Our lack of reliable information derives from the fact that the Safavids, after the establishment of the Safavid state, deliberately falsified the evidence of their own origins. Their fundamental object in claiming a Shi`i origin was to differentiate themselves from the Ottomans and to enable them to enlist the sympathies of all heterodox elements. To this end they systematically destroyed any evidence which indicated that Shaykh Safi al-Din Ishaq, the founder of the Safavid tariqa was not a Shi'i (he was probably a Sunni of the Shafi`i madhhab), and they fabricated evidence to prove that the Safavids were sayyids, that is, direct descendants of the Prophet. They constructed a dubious genealogy tracing the descent of the Safavid family from the seventh of the Twelver Imams, Mûsâ al-Kazim—a genealogy which is seduously followed by the later Safavid sources—and introduced into the text of a hagiological work on the life of Shaykh Safi al-Din ⁹⁰ , a number of anecdotes designed to validate the Safavid claim to be sayyids. Viewed dispassionately, the majority of these anecdotes appear ingenuous, not to say naïve.

The first member of the Safavid family of whom we have any historical knowledge is a certain Firûz-Shah, who was a wealthy landowner on the borders of Azarbayjan and Gilân, in north-west Persia, at the beginning of the fifth/eleventh century. Either he or his son moved to the region of Ardabil, a town in eastern Azarbayjan situated at an altitude of 5,000 feet on a plateau surrounded by high mountains, and Ardabil henceforth became the focal point of Safavid activity. Firûz-Shahand his descendants busied themselves with agricultural pursuits, and acquired a reputation for abundant piety and zealous religious observance, to such an extent that numbers of the local population were moved to declare themselves their murids or disciples.

In 650/1252-3 Safi al-Din, from whom the Safavid dynasty derived its

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name, was born./1 The youthful Safi al-Din, we are told, did not mix with other boys, but spent his time in prayer and fasting. He experienced visions. None of the local pirs (spiritual directors) could satisfy his spiritual needs, and at the age of twenty he went to Shiraz in search of a pir who had been recommended to him. On his arrival there, he found that this pir was dead, and he was advised that the only man in the world who could analyse his mystical state was the head of a local Sûfi order, a certain Shaykh Zâhid-i Gilani, whom he traced in 675/1276-7, after a protracted search, to a village near the Caspian Sea. At that time, Safi al-Din was twenty-five years of age, and Shaykh Zâhid sixty. As the latter grew older, he became increasingly dependent on Safi al-Din, who married Shaykh Zâhid's daughter, and gave his own daughter in marriage to Shaykh Zâhid's son. On Shaykh Zahid's death in 700/1301 at the age of eighty-five, Safi al-Din succeeded him as head of the Zâhidiyya, which from then on became known as the Safavid order, or Safaviyya, with its headquarters at Ardabil.

For the next century and a half, from 700/1301 to 850/1447, the Safavid shaykhs of Ardabil proceeded with great tenacity of purpose to extend their influence. The significant contribution of Safi al-Din to the rise of the Safavids is that he transformed a Sûfi order of purely local importance into a religious movement whose influence was felt not only within the borders of Persia, but also in Syria and eastern Anatolia. In these areas the religious propaganda (da’wa) of the Safavids won many converts among the Turcoman/2 tribes which later formed the élite of the Safavid fighting forces. The most important of these tribes were the Ustâjlû, Rûmlû, Shamlû, Dulgadir (Dhu'l-Qadr), Takkalii, Afshâr, and Qajâr.

The death of Safi al-Din in 735/1334 coincided with the break-up of the Mongol empire of the Il-Khans in Persia and the eastern Fertile Crescent. For nearly fifty years there was anarchy in Persia, and then for a further twenty years the successive waves of the Turco-Mongol (Tatar) forces led by Timûr swept across the country. During these disturbed times Safi al-Din's son and successor, Sadr al-Din Musa, not only managed on the whole to preserve the lands belonging to the Ardabil sanctuary from the exactions of local officials and military commanders, but also to enrich the sanctuary itself by the construction of the sacred enclosure

/1 The derivation of Safavid from Sûfi, a theory derived from contemporary Western accounts, which refer to the Safavid shah as the ‘Great Sophy', is erroneous.

/2 Turcoman should not be confused with Turkmân. Turcoman' is used as a generic term for the semi-nomadic tribes, of Turkish ethnic origin, which carried on a pastoral existence remote from the towns. Turkmân' is the proper name of one such tribe.

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of the Safavid family, comprising a mausoleum, a convent, and ancillary buildings. Sadr al-Din was held in great veneration by many of the Mongol nobility, some of whom declared themselves to be his disciples.

Under Khwaja `Ali (head of the Safavid order from 7941391-z to 830/1427), there was a movement away from the orthodox type of mystical belief and practice, and for the first time Safavid religious propaganda assumed a Shi'i flavour. The Safavid movement—for such it now was—began to gather momentum, and, under the leadership of Junayd (851-64/1447-60), its frankly revolutionary character became apparent. Junayd, unlike his predecessors, aspired to temporal power as well as spiritual authority. His followers were called on to fight for their beliefs. His political ambitions at once brought him into conflict with the ruling temporal power in Persia—the Kara-Koyunlu, or Black Sheep Turcomans. He was driven into exile, and eventually took refuge in Diyar Bakr at the court of Uzun Hasan, the ruler of the Ak-Koyunlu, or White Sheep Turcomans. Logically, the Shi`i Safavids should have had more in common with the Shi'i Kara-Koyunlu than with the Sunni Ak-Koyunlu, but at the time the dominant political power in Persia and the eastern Fertile Crescent was the Kara-Koyunlu state, and the Safavids and the Ak-Koyunlu sank their religious antipathy in a political alliance cemented by Junayd's marriage to Uzun Hasan's sister. In 863/1459 Junayd made an abortive attempt to recover Ardabil. The following year, on his way to attack the Circassians, he was attacked by the ruler of Shirvan, and killed.

Junayd's son, Haydar, became head of the Safavid order, and maintained the close alliance with the Ak-Koyunlu by marrying Uzun Hasan's daughter. Haydar devised the distinctive red Safavid headgear, with twelve gores or folds commemorating the twelve Shi'i Imams. As a result, Safavid troops were dubbed Qizilbâsh (Turkish : Kizil Bash, Red Head), a term later used pejoratively by the Ottomans. In 872/1467 the Ak-Koyunlu overthrew the Kara-Koyunlu empire, and became in their turn the target for Safavid political and military ambitions. The alliance, based on mutual political advantage, collapsed as soon as the Safavids constituted a political threat to the Ak-Koyunlu. In 893/1488, when Haydar, like his father before him, decided to blood his forces by an expedition against the Circassians, and en route attempted to avenge his father by attacking the ruler of Shirvan, the Ak-Koyunlu sent a detachment of troops to the aid of the latter, and these troops constituted the decisive factor in the defeat of the Safavid forces. Haydar himself was killed.

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It would not have been surprising if the Safavid revolutionary movement, having suffered for the second time in little over half a century the stunning blow of the death of its leader in battle, had collapsed at this point. That it did not do so, but on the contrary rapidly gathered strength to sweep aside all opposition, is a tribute to the thoroughness and effectiveness with which the Safavid propagandists, radiating from their base at Ardabil and penetrating deep into the Armenian highlands, Syria and Anatolia, had carried out their work. During the long period of preparation for the Safavid revolution, these propagandists periodically returned to Ardabil to draw new inspiration from their murshid or spiritual director, the head of the order.

Within a short time of the death of Haydar, a large number of Safavid followers had gathered at Ardabil to congratulate his son `Ali on his accession to the leadership of the order, and to urge him to avenge his father and grandfather. Thoroughly alarmed by this demonstration of Safavid power, the Ak-Koyunlu ruler, Ya`qûb, seized `Ali, his two brothers, Ibrahim and Ismail, and their mother, and imprisoned them in Fars for four and a half years (894-8/1489-93). In 898/1493 the Ak-Koyunlu prince, Rustam, released `Ali on condition that the Safavid forces fought for him against his cousin and rival for the throne. After defeating Rustam's cousin, `Ali returned to Ardabil in triumph.

Rustam realized too late that he had released the genie from the bottle. Events moved swiftly. At the end of 899/middle of 1494 Rustam re-arrested `Ali and took him to Khoy (Khwuy), but `Ali escaped and made for Ardabil. Rustam knew he had to stop him. ` Should `Ali once enter Ardabil', he said, which God forbid !—the deaths of ten thousand Turcomans [i.e., Ak-Koyunlu troops] would be of no avail.' `Ali, having a premonition of his coming death, nominated his younger brother Ismail as his successor, and sent him ahead to Ardabil in the care of seven picked men. `Ali was overtaken by Ak-Koyunlu forces, and killed. For the third time the Safavid revolutionary movement had lost its leader, and its new leader, Ismail, was only seven years old. Ismail eluded a house-to-house search instituted by the Ak-Koyunlu in Ardabil, and escaped to Gilan, finding sanctuary at Lahijan. Dynastic feuds prevented the Ak-Koyunlu from invading Gilan and seizing Ismail.

In Gilan, Ismail and his small band of dedicated Safavid supporters perfected their plans for overthrowing the Ak-Koyunlu empire. For five years (899-905/1494-9), Ismail maintained close contact with his

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followers in Azarbayjan, Syria, and Anatolia. At the end of that time, he decided to make his bid for power. In the summer of 905-6/ 15 00, 7,000 of his men assembled at Erzinjan, on the Euphrates, 200 miles west of Erzurum. After settling an old score with the ruler of Shirvân, Ismail marched on Azarbayjan, and in the spring of 906/1501 he routed an Ak-Koyunlu force of 30,000 men at the battle of Shariar near Nakhchivan. Although the rest of Persia was not brought under Safavid control for another ten years, this was the decisive battle of the revolution. In the summer of 906-7/1501 Ismail entered Tabriz, and proclaimed himself Shah Ismail I the first ruler of the new Safavid dynasty, as yet with authority over Azarbayjan only.

Isma`il's first action on his accession, the proclamation of the Shi`i form of Islam as the religion of the new state, was unquestionably the most significant act of his whole reign. By taking this step, he not only clearly differentiated the new state from the Ottoman empire, the major power in the Islamic world at the time, which otherwise might well have incorporated Persia in its dominions, but imparted to his subjects a sense of unity which permitted the rise of a national state in the modern sense of the term. Ever since the Arab conquest in the first/seventh century, Persia had been a geographical rather than a political entity. Either it had been part of a larger empire, or it had lacked any central governing authority, and had been divided piecemeal among a number of petty dynasties. With the exception of the territory lost during the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries to Russia in the north-west and north-east, and to Afghanistan in the east, the boundaries of Persia today are substantially the same as in the later tenth/sixteenth century, and we may assert, therefore, that the rise of the modern state of Iran dates from the establishment of the Safavid state in 907/1501.

The imposition of Shi'ism on a country which, officially at least, was still predominantly Sunni, obviously could not be achieved without incurring opposition, or without a measure of persecution of those who refused to conform. Disobedience was punishable by death, and the threat of force was there from the beginning. As far as the ordinary people were concerned, the existence of this threat seems to have been sufficient. The ulamâ' were more stubborn. Some were put to death; many more fled to areas where Sunnism still prevailed—to the Timurid court at Herat and, after the conquest of Khurasan by the Safavids, to the Özbeg capital at Bukhara. It is extremely difficult to judge how far the ground may have been prepared for the change by the efforts of Safavid

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propagandists, by such factors as the transfer of large numbers of pro-Shi`i Turcomans from Azarbâyjan to Khurasan between 823/1420 and 870/1465, and by the activities of heterodox and antinomian groups. It is equally difficult to assess with any certainty to what extent the activities of the other Sufi orders in Persia may have helped the Safavids by the transmission of Shi`i ideas. In general, however, one can say that heterodox beliefs were, and are, endemic in Persia, and the transition to Shi'ism may not have been as abrupt and revolutionary as would appear at first sight.

Within a period of ten years from the date of his accession at Tabriz, Ismail conquered the whole of Persia, and incorporated the eastern Fertile Crescent in the Safavid empire. The main stages in the consolidation of empire were : the defeat of the remaining Ak-Koyunlu forces near Hamadan (908/1503), which gave Ismail control of central and southern Persia; the subjugation of the Caspian provinces of Mazandaran and Gurgan, and the capture of Yazd (909/1504) ; the pacification of the western frontier, and the annexation of Diyar Bakr (911 - 13/1505-7) ; the capture of Baghdad and the conquest of south-west Persia (914/1508); the subjugation of Shirvân (915/1509-10) ; and the conquest of Khurâsân (916/1510), which had been overrun by the Özbegs of Transoxania three years before. Although the head of the Özbeg confederation, Muhammad Shaybani Khan, was killed, the Özbeg menace remained, and the Safavids never solved the problem of the defence of the eastern marches against these nomads. Only a year after the conquest of Khurasân, Ismail was drawn into an attack on Samarqand through the ambition of the Timurid prince Babur to recover his Transoxanian dominions. Safavid forces installed Bâbur at Samargand, but as soon as they returned home the Özbegs drove him out, inflicted a crushing defeat on a Safavid army in Ramadan 918/November 1512 just east of the Oxus, and swept on into Khurâsân, capturing Herat, Mashhad and Tus. Punitive expeditions despatched by Ismail restored the position along the eastern frontier, and there was an uneasy truce with the Özbegs for eight years.

Throughout the tenth/sixteenth century the Safavids had to fight on two fronts—against the Özbegs in the east, and against the Ottomans in the west. The outbreak of war with the Ottoman empire occurred in 920/1514. It had been precipitated by a series of acts of provocation committed by the Safavids, but the fundamental reason for the outbreak of war was the establishment of the Safavid state itself. The imposition

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of a militant form of Shi`ism in Persia constituted a political threat to the Ottoman empire, and this threat was the greater because in eastern Anatolia, within the borders of the Ottoman empire itself, were large numbers of Turcomans who were supporters of the Safavid cause. In 918/1512 Ismail had made a deliberate attempt to undermine Ottoman authority in this area. The Ottoman Sultan Selim I considered the danger so real that, before he invaded Persia, he put to death all the adherents of Shi`ism in Anatolia on whom he could lay hands.

On 2 Rajab 920/23 August 1514, the Ottoman and Safavid armies confronted each other at Chaldiran, in north-western Azarbayjan. Ismail had two commanders who possessed first-hand experience of Ottoman methods of warfare, but he chose to ignore their advice to attack at once before the Ottomans had completed the disposition of their forces. The Ottomans were therefore able to follow their usual practice of stationing their musketeers behind a barrier of gun-carriages which were linked by chains. On the gun-carriages were placed mortars. This formed an insuperable obstacle to any force which, like the Safavid army, was composed almost entirely of cavalry. The Safavid cavalry, led with desperate valour by Ismail in person, launched charge after charge against the Ottoman guns, but were driven back with heavy casualties. The failure of the Safavids to equip themselves with artillery and hand-guns is one of the puzzling features of the period. The claim of the Sherley brothers, two English gentlemen-adventurers, to have introduced firearms into Persia in the reign of Shah `Abbas the Great (996-1038/1588-1629) has now been proved to be quite without foundation. It is known that at least a hundred years before the time of `Abbas, the Ak-Koyunlu possessed a number of cannon, and there is no doubt at all that the Safavids could have developed the use of artillery and hand-guns had they chosen so to do. It has been suggested that the Safavids, like their contemporaries the Mamluks of Egypt and Syria, considered the use of firearms to be unchivalrous and unmanly. Whatever the reasons for Safavid neglect in this regard, it is clear that it was primarily Ottoman superiority in firearms which enabled them to inflict a signal defeat on the Safavids at Chaldiran. Among the Safavid dead were many high-rankingQizilbâsh officers. The Ottoman losses were not negligible, particularly on their left, where the Safavids had broken the Ottoman line, and the commander was killed. Selim occupied Tabriz, but eight days later, because his officers refused to winter in Persia, he withdrew from the Safavid capital.

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In terms of territory, the Safavids escaped with the loss of the province of Diyar Bakr, and of the regions of Mar'ash and Elbistan, over which in any event they exercised little more than nominal authority. Of much greater consequence was the psychological effect on Ismail himself, which had repercussions on his conduct of the affairs of state, on his relations with the Qizilbâsh, and on the balance between the Persian and Turcoman elements in the Safavid administration. Chaldiran destroyed Ismail's faith in his invincibility. To his Qizilbâsh Turkish followers, Ismail was both their temporal ruler and their spiritual director. But he was much more than that. He himself, addressing these often illiterate tribesmen in their own tongue, and using simple language, had fostered the belief that he was the manifestation of God himself. The Safavid state, in its early years, was in a real sense a theocracy. The contemporary accounts of Venetian merchants bear witness to the fanatical devotion of the Qizilbâsh to their leader, whom they considered immortal. This belief received a shock at Chaldiran. Ismail became a recluse, and attempted to drown his sorrows in drunken debauches. Much of his time was devoted to hunting. During the last ten years of his life, he never again led his troops into battle. Isma`il's loss of personal prestige meant a corresponding increase in the powers both of the Turcoman tribal chiefs and of the high-ranking Persian officials in the bureaucracy. As a result, serious internal stresses were set up, and within a year of Ismâ'i1's death on 19 Rajab 930/23 May 1524, civil war had broken out as rival groups of Qizilbâsh tribes fought for supremacy, restrained neither by allegiance to the shah as their temporal ruler, nor by reverence for his person as `the Shadow of God upon Earth'. Once the religious bond between Ismail and the Qizilbâsh had been broken, the authority of the ruler could only be maintained by a strong and effective personality. Tahmasp I, who at the age of ten succeeded his father on the throne of Persia in 93o/1524, did not at first have an opportunity to exercise any authority, because the Qizilbâsh military aristocracy assumed control of the state.

As already noted, the Safavid state at its inception had a theocratic form of government. There was no formal boundary between the religious and the political aspect of the state. Consequently the highest officer of state, termed wakil-i nafs-i nafis-i humâyûn, or vicegerent of the shah, represented the ruler in both his religious and his political capacity.

He was the shah's alter ego, and was responsible for the orderly arrangement of the affairs of religion and the state. The first holder of this office

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was a high-ranking Qizilbâsh officer of the Shâmlû tribe, one of the small group of trusted companions who had been with Ismail in Gilan and had planned the final stages of the Safavid revolution. Since the Qizil-bâsh constituted the backbone of the Safavid fighting forces, they considered it proper that the wakil should be drawn from their ranks. They also considered as their prerogative the post of amir al-umarâ', or commander-in-chief of the Qizilbâish tribal forces. To begin with, the same man seems to have held both these high offices. The qûrchibâshi, a high-ranking military officer whose function during the early Safavid period is extremely obscure, was also a Qizilbâsh chief.

The two remaining principal offices of state were filled by Persians. One was the office of wazir, traditionally in medieval Islamic states the first minister and head of the bureaucracy. In the early Safavid state, the importance of the wazir was greatly reduced by the creation of the office of wakil, and by the intervention of the amir al-umarâ' in political affairs. The other was the office of sadr, who was the head of the religious institution, and whose prime task after the establishment of the Safavid state was to impose doctrinal unity on Persia by the energetic propagation of Twelver Shi'ism—a task which was virtually completed by the death of Ismail I.

Within a short time, friction developed between the Turcoman and the Persian elements in the administration. This friction was aggravated by the lack of any clear definition of the function of the principal officers of state. This confusion of function and overlapping of authority derived in part from the circumstances which attended the rise to power of the Safavids, and in part from the predominantly military character of the early Safavid state. Even the sadr from time to time took part in military operations. Before the end of Isma`il's reign, there are clear signs of a movement away from the theocratic state, and towards a separation of religious and political powers. This was reflected in changes both in the scope and function, and in the relative importance of the principal offices of state. There was a tendency to lay less emphasis on the paramount position of the wakil as the vicegerent of the shah, representing both the temporal and religious authority of the latter, and to regard him rather as the head of the bureaucracy. In time, the title wakil itself fell into disuse. There was a decline in the power of the sadr. From time to time the sadrs made abortive attempts to regain some of their former influence in political affairs, but their activities were increasingly restricted to the administration of the

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waqfs, and the exercise of a general supervisory role over the religious institution.

One of the problems which face all leaders of successful revolutions is how best to deal with those who have been responsible for bringing them to power. The qualities which make people devoted members of a fanatical revolutionary movement are precisely those which make it difficult to absorb them into the post-revolutionary administrative system. The Safavid revolution was no exception. Only six years after his accession, Ismail was so apprehensive of the power of the Qkizilbâsh tribal chiefs that he dismissed the eminent Turcoman officer who held the post of wakil and replaced him by a Persian. Another Persian succeeded to this office in 915/1509-10. Qizilbâsh resentment at being excluded from a post which they regarded as their prerogative led to open friction between them and the wakil. Isma’il also took steps to curb the power of the amir al-umarâ'. The heavy casualties suffered by the Qizilbâsh at Chaldiran weakened their influence to some extent during the last decade of Isma`il's reign, but even so, a Qkizilbâsh chief governed the important province of Khurasan from 922-8/1516-22 with an insolent disregard of orders emanating from the shah and the central administration. As the belief of the Qizilbâsh in the shah as their spiritual director and the Shadow of God on Earth weakened, they reverted to their former tribal loyalties. Since in practice they no longer held the person of the shah in any special respect, whatever the official myth might be, it is not surprising that the youthful Shah Tahmasp was unable to exert his authority over them for at least a decade. In 937/1530-31 , during one incident in the civil war between rival factions of Qizilbâsh, a group of Turcomans even burst into the royal tent, and two arrows struc Qizilbâsh k the shah's crown.

The decade from 930/1524 to 940/1533 may be termed the interregnum. After an initial period of rule by a triumvirate of Qizilbâsh chiefs, drawn from the Rûmlû, Takkalû, and Ustajlû tribes, there was civil war between the Ustajlûs and the rest of the Qizilbâsh tribes in 932-3/1526-7; then followed a duumvirate of a Rûmlû and a Takkalû, a period of Takkalû hegemony (933-7/1527-30), and, finally, a period of Shamir' hegemony (937-40/153o-4). In 940/1533-4 Tahmâsp executed Husayn Khan Shâmlû, the head of the Shamlû tribe and the virtual ruler of the state. As this chief was the guardian of Tahmâsp's infant son, Muhammad Mirza, and a cousin of Tahmâsp himself, the shah's action had the greater effect. It indicated his intention of ruling from then on in

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fact as well as in name, and two further actions taken by the shah at this time underlined this resolve. Tahmasp refused to allow another Shamlü chieftain to take command of the tribe, but placed it under the direct command of his younger brother, Bahrâm Mirza ; and he appointed a Persian to fill the office of wakil. During the ten years of Qizilbâsh rule, this office had reverted to their exclusive control. Having thus gained the upper hand, Tahmasp managed to keep it for the next forty years, until in 982/1574 his failing health gave the Qkizilbâsh another opportunity to defy his authority.

Shah Tahmasp is something of an enigma. His reign of fifty-two years was longer than that of any other Safavid monarch. Yet his personal character seems to have made little impression on Western observers, and the picture left to us by the Carmelites and others is wholly unfavourable. Great emphasis is laid on his parsimony. It is even alleged that he sent his disused clothing to be sold in the bazaar. He is said to have alternated between extremes of asceticism and intemperance. He was capable of great cruelty. He was given to melancholy, and in his latter years was more or less a recluse. No source, Oriental or Western, credits him with any strength of character, or with any particular skill in the arts either of peace or of war. On the other hand, the fact that he asserted himself as de facto shah after ten years of unchallenged Qizilbâsh supremacy, postulates moral toughness and flexibility. The mere fact that the Safavid state survived a series of most determined onslaughts by its principal enemies, the Ottomans in the west and the Özbegs in the east, at a time when it was seriously weakened by internal faction, by the defection of large bodies of Qizilbâish troops to the Ottomans, and by the plots of the shah's brothers against the crown, argues that Tahmasp was not devoid either of courage or military ability. Between 930/1524 and 944/1538, for instance, the Özbegs launched five major invasions on Khurasân. In the west, the Ottoman Sultan Süleyman the Magnificent mounted four full-scale invasions of Azarbayjan. In 940/1533-4, to meet the first of these attacks, delivered by 90,000 men under the grand vezir Ibrahim Pasha, Tahmasp could raise only 7,000 men, and the loyalty of many of these was suspect. Further Ottoman invasions followed in 941/1534-5, 955/1548, and 961/1553. Baghdad was entered by the Ottomans in 941/1534. Tabriz was occupied on several occasions, and, because of its vulnerability to Ottoman attack, Tahmasp transferred the capital to Qazvin.

It is remarkable not that the Safavid state suffered certain losses of

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territory to the Ottomans, but that it was not overwhelmed. One explanation may be sought in the fact that the Ottomans in Azarbâyjân were operating at the end of a long and vulnerable line of communication. The Kurds in particular were past masters in the art of cutting off straggling units and raiding baggage trains. The severe winters and mountainous terrain of Azarbâyjân were allies of the Safavids. But when all due allowance has been made for these factors, it is clear that no small measure of credit must go to Tahmasp for his masterly use of Fabian tactics. Given the internal difficulties with which he was faced, he could wage only a defensive war. He therefore decided on a `scorched earth' policy. The frontier areas of Azarbâyjân were systematically laid waste. The further the Ottomans advanced into Persian territory, the more difficult their position became. There was a shortage of food for the troops, and their pack-animals died by the thousand. Eventually the Ottomans were forced to fall back. As they retreated, they were continually harassed by Safavid regular and irregular forces. The lessons of Châldiran had been well learnt, and at no time did Tahmasp commit his numerically far inferior forces to a pitched battle. Ismâ'il was a man of great personal bravery, and an inspiring leader. Tahmasp was neither, but he has not been given sufficient credit for the way in which he husbanded his meagre resources, and successfully resisted two such powerful enemies as the Ottomans under their greatest conqueror, Süleymân I, and the Özbegs under one of their greatest leaders, `Ubayd Allah Khan. Tahmâsp received loyal support from his brother Bahrâm Mirza who, until his untimely death in 956/1549 at the age of thirty-two, was a fearless, if sometimes impulsive, commander, very much in his father's mould. The treachery of Tahmasp's other two brothers, Sam Mirza, governor-general of Khurasân, who rebelled against the shah and intrigued with the Ottomans in 941-2/ 1534-6, and Algâs Mirzâ, governor of Shirvan, who rebelled and joined the third Ottoman invasion of Persia in 955/1548, was a source of great grief to Tahmasp. Tahmasp rendered a great service to the Safavid state by negotiating the peace of Amasya (962/1555), which inaugurated a period of over thirty years of peace with the Ottomans.

The control of the state by the Qizilbâsh chiefs between 930/1524 and 940/1533 was naturally reflected in the relative importance of the principal offices of state. The office of wakil, and that of amir al-umarâ', to which Ismail had appointed Persians in an effort to curb the power of the Qizilbâsh, reverted to the latter. Both offices were often held by the

same man. In such cases, the military and political aspect of the wakil's function was predominant. Indeed, the holding of military command was an essential part of the wakil's function as originally conceived.

There was, however, a lack of differentiation between the various administrative offices at this time; and the term wakil was also used in regard to the official who was the head of the bureaucracy, in other words, the official more properly known as the wazir. This has resulted in considerable confusion in the sources. After 940/1533, when the execution of Husayn Khan Shamlû ended for the time being the military control of the political institution by the Qizilbâsh chiefs, the amir al-umarâ', as an officer of the central administration, disappears from the scene. The title continued to be used by the military governors of important provinces. With the decline of the amir al-umarâ', the importance of the formerly subordinate qûrchibâshi increased. From about 945/1538-9 onwards, the sources indicate a steady extension of the authority of the qûrchibâshi in both political and military affairs. It is interesting to note that, over a period of forty years (955-95/1548-87), the majority of the officers appointed to the office of qûrchibâshi were from the Afshar tribe; moreover, a hereditary tendency became apparent. In appointments to the office of fadr, the hereditary tendency was even more marked, particularly during the latter part of Tahmasp's reign. The decline in the political and religious power of the sadr, already noticed during Ismâ`il's lifetime, became more marked during the reign of Tahmasp. After 932/1525-6, the obituary notices in the sources, instead of extolling the zeal of sadrs in propagating Shi`ism and in rooting out heresy, lay emphasis on their learning and scholarship. During the second half of the reign of Tahmasp, there is hardly any indication of political activity on the part of the sadrs. Their position as head of the religious institution was already being challenged by powerful theologians known as mujtahids. By the time of `Abbas the Great, the mujtahids had become the principal exponents of the Shi'i orthodoxy achieved through the efforts of the sadrs of the early Safavid period. In general, during the reign of Tahmasp the administrative system was still undergoing a process of change and evolution.

The reign of Shah `Abbas I the Great (996-103 8/I588-1629) is rightly considered not only to be the high-point of the Safavid empire, which thereafter began to decline, but also to mark the dividing-line between the early Safavid state, developing slowly and painfully out of its theocratic origins, and seeking, for the most part unsuccessfully, to

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reconcile these origins with the practical requirements of administering a large empire, and the later Safavid state, reorganized on entirely different lines by Shah `Abbas I. While this may be accepted as a generalization, it must be pointed out that the measures introduced by `Abbas were frequently the logical outcome of processes which had begun during the reign of Tahmasp and during the short and disturbed reigns of his successors Ismail II (984-5 /I576-7) and Sultan Muhammad Shah (985-95 /I578-8 7). For instance, one of `Abbas's most far-reaching measures, which transformed the whole structure of the Safavid state, was the creation of the corps of ghulams, or qullar (` slaves'). These ghulâms were Georgian prisoners, converts from Christianity, and the immediate purpose of the formation of this corps was to enable `Abbas to resist the Qizilbâsh, who had once again got out of hand and threatened to usurp the authority of the ruler as they had done at the accession of Tahmasp. `Abbas instituted a policy of appointing ghulâms to provincial governorates, and to high administrative posts in the central government, in place of Qizilbâsh chiefs. Within a short time these measures had the effect of radically altering the social and ethnic structure of the administrative system.

The supremacy of the Qiilbâsh in the Safavid state, however, was being challenged before the end of the reign of Tahmasp, and it was Tahmasp himself who introduced the new Georgian and Circassian elements who were responsible for this challenge. Hitherto there had been a relatively uncomplicated rivalry for the key positions between the Turkish (Turcoman) elements and the Persian elements, with the shah playing off the one against the other and achieving a fairly satisfactory working relationship. Periodic outbursts of violence indicated the depth of the hostility between the two groups, and, as we have seen, when Tahmasp came to the throne as a minor the balance of power was temporarily upset. Ultimately, Tahmasp managed to restore the balance and to maintain the working relationship for about forty years, but trouble was always only just below the surface, and in 982/I574, when Tahmasp fell sick, there was immediate dissension among the Qizilbâsh. The situation in 982/1574, however, was very different from that obtaining fifty years earlier, at the outbreak of the civil war between the Qizilbâsh tribes in 932/1526. In 982/1574 it as no longer a struggle to determine which tribe could outstrip its rivals in a state in which the Qizilbâsh tribes as a whole enjoyed a dominant and privileged position, but whether the Qizilbâsh tribes as a whole could maintain their privileged ?

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position against the threat from the new elements in Persian society, the Georgians and Circassians, whose remarkable energy and ability rapidly enabled them to exert an influence in the state out of all proportion to their numbers. This struggle was not decided before Tahmasp's death, or even during the reigns of his successors Ismâ'il II and Sultan Muhammad Shah.

The majority of the Georgians had been taken captive in the course of the four campaigns fought by Safavid forces in Georgia between 947/1540-I and 96I /I553-4. From each of these expeditions Tahmâsp brought back captives, mainly women and children. In the campaign of 961 /1534, the number of prisoners taken to Persia amounted to 30,000; among them were a number of Georgian nobles. By the end of Tahmasp's reign, the offspring of unions with these Georgian prisoners must have constituted a new and not inconsiderable element in the Safavid state. The influx of Georgian elements was not limited to prisoners. During Tahmasp's reign, a nobleman, closely related to the king of Georgia, who had been sent to the Safavid court as an ambassador, severed his connexion with his native land, and, together with all his retainers, entered Safavid service. He eventually became governor of a province in Shirvân. In 994/1585-6 another Georgian nobleman was the lâlâ, or guardian, of one of the Safavid princes. The post of lâlâ, like the offices of wakil and amir al-umarâ', had always been considered a Qizilbâsh prerogative. These are isolated instances, but, taken in conjunction with the other evidence, they are sufficient to indicate that serious breaches had been made in the Qizilbâsh position long before the accession of `Abbas.

The Georgian and Circassian women taken into the royal harem played a vital part in supporting the efforts of their compatriots to increase their influence in the Safavid state at the expense of the Qizilbâsh. These women became an important factor in political affairs. Dynastic quarrels and court intrigues, of a type not previously known in the Safavid state, flourished, as mothers of different nationalities pressed the claims of their respective offspring to the throne. The Safavid leaders Junayd and Haydar had married wives of Ak-Koyunlu Turcoman stock. Tasmasp's own mother was also a Turcoman. On the death of Isma'il, the issue of who was to succeed him was never in doubt; the point in dispute was which of the rival Qizilbâsh tribes should dominate the young Tahmasp. In 982/1574-5 and subsequent years, the question was rather, which of Tahmasp's sons would succeed him, one born of a Turcoman mother, or

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one born of a Georgian or a Circassian mother. The Qizilbâsh did not at once perceive the true nature of the threat to their position. To begin with, instead of presenting a united front against the Caucasian faction, various groups of Qizilbâsh weakened the whole Qizilbâsh position by supporting candidates of the Caucasians. In 982/1574-5 , for instance, certain Qizilbâsh chiefs intrigued in favour of Tahmasp's son Sulaymân, whose mother was the sister of a Circassian chief. By the following year (983/1575-6), the Qizilbâsh had split into two opposing factions, one supporting Tahmasp's son Ismâ`il, whose mother was a Turcoman, the other supporting Tahmasp's son Haydar, whose mother was a Georgian slave. Of the nine sons of Tahmasp who reached adolescence, seven were the offspring of Circassian or Georgian mothers. Only two were born of a Turcoman mother : Ismâ'il, who had been imprisoned for twenty years, and whose mind was known to be deranged by his long confinement; and Muhammad Khudâbanda, the eldest son and therefore the rightful heir to the throne, who was at first considered unfit to rule because of his poor eyesight. After the death of Tahmasp on 15 Safar 984/14 May 1576, the Georgian faction, supported by the Ustâjlû tribe, made an unsuccessful attempt to place Haydar on the throne. They were defeated by the other Qizilbâsh tribes, supported by the Circassian faction and a group of Kurdish troops. Haydar was killed. Next, the Rûmlû tribe and the Circassians attempted to enthrone a prince born of a Circassian slave, but this attempt, too, was frustrated. At this point the Qizilbâsh, perhaps impressed by the prowess of the troops led by two Georgians, who were both maternal uncles of Safavid princes, and by a Circassian chief, who was the maternal uncle of Tahmasp's daughter, at last realized that their own best interest lay in unity. 30,000 Qizilbâsh assembled and pledged their support to Ismâ`il, who was enthroned at Qazvin as Ismâ'il II on 27 Jumada I 984/22 August 1576, at the age of forty.

Ismâ'i1 II at once confirmed the worst fears of those who realized that his mind had been warped by his experiences. Unexpectedly released from prison and placed on the throne, his sole aim was to prevent himself from being ejected from his new position of power. To this end he began systematically to murder or blind all male members of the Safavid royal house who might conceivably become the centre of a conspiracy against him. Five sons of Tahmasp were put to death, together with four other Safavid princes. Ismâ'il also had put to death large numbers of Qizilbâsh officers, not only members of the Ustâjlû tribe which had supported his brother Haydar, but also many others

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whose only fault was that they had held important positions under his father. ‘The royal tents,' he said, ‘cannot be held up by old ropes.' The Qizilbash realized that the ruler to whom they had given their support, far from preserving their own privileged position in the state, was in fact undermining it by the execution of so many of their number. The Qizilbash, who naturally were staunch supporters of the Twelver form of Shi'ism which was the official religion of the Safavid state, also strongly resented Ismâ`il's apparent dislike of Shi'ism. The shah made no open profession of Sunnism, but some of the more fanatical Shi`i theologians found themselves excluded from court circles, and their books confiscated. The ritual cursing of the Caliphs Abu Bakr, `Umar and `Uthman in the mosques was banned. The Qizilbâsh therefore planned to assassinate the shah. Their task was made easier by Ismail's addiction to narcotics. With the connivance of the shah's sister, Pari Khan Khânum, poison was inserted in a mixture of opium and Indian hemp which Ismail and one of his intimate companions consumed. Ismâ'il II was found dead on 13 Ramadan 985 /24 November 1577 .

The Qizilbâsh had no alternative but to place on the throne the prince whom they had passed over at the death of Tahmâsp on the grounds that his poor eyesight disqualified him from kingship, namely, Muhammad Khudâbanda. All the other sons of Tahmasp had been murdered or blinded by Ismail II, and only an accident had saved Muhammad Khudâbanda and his three sons, Hamza, Abu Talib and `Abbas. `Abbas owed his life to the governor of Herat, `Ali Quli Khan Shâmlu, who had deliberately delayed putting the order into effect. Muhammad Khudâ-banda reached Qazvin on 5 Dhu'l-Hijja 985/13 February 1578, nearly three months after the death of Ismâ`ïl II, and was proclaimed ruler with the style Sultan Muhammad Shah. He was forty-seven years of age.

Apart from his physical disability, Sultan Muhammad Shah was ‘a man of quiet nature', who did not care much about worldy affairs. For eighteen months, the administration of the state was in the hands of his wife, Mand-i `Ulyâ, who is described as a jealous, ambitious, quick-tempered, obstinate and vindictive woman. Mand-i `Ulyâ was the daughter of a former local ruler in Mâzandarân, belonging to a dynasty which boasted of its descent from the fourth Shi'i Imam, Zayn al-'Abidin. She was hostile to the interests of the Okilbâsh, and promoted the interests of the Persian elements in the administration. The wazir, Mirzâ Salmón, who had been appointed by Ismail II, was confirmed in office by Sultan Muhammad Shah, and became Mand-i 'Ulya's right-

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hand man. All her actions were directed towards two ends : first, to secure the eventual succession of her favourite son, Hamza Mirzâ; second, to revenge herself on Mir Sultan Murad, who had murdered her father and had usurped her family's territory in Mâzandarân. To attain her first object, she put to death various persons whom she regarded as obstacles in her path. These included Pari Khân Khânum and her uncle (a Circassian chief), and Isma il's infant son. To prevent `Abbas, her stepson, from constituting a threat to her plans for Hamza, Mand-i `Ulyó sent courier after courier to Herat demanding that he be sent to Qazvin, but the governor, `Ali Quli Khan, refused to comply with her orders. To attain her second object, she sent three successive expeditions against Mirzâ Khan, who had succeeded his father, Mir Sultan Murad, as ruler of Mâzandarân. Mirza Khân resisted all efforts to capture him, and finally gave himself up only on the solemn promise of safe conduct. While on his way to the capital, Qazvin, with an escort of Qizilbâish chiefs, he was murdered by minions sent by Mand-i `Ulyâ who, in her determination to be avenged, refused to take cognizance of the promise of safeconduct. The indignation of the Qizilbâsh at this action was one of the factors which led them to request the shah to remove Mand-i `Ulyâ from her position of influence.

The Ottoman Sultan Murad III chose this moment (986/I578) to break the long peace with Persia, and to launch a major invasion under Mustafâ Pasha. The Crimean Tatars made common cause with the Ottomans. The Safavids suffered defeat after defeat. A large part of Georgia submitted to the Ottomans. The north-west frontier was stabilized by the prince, Hamza Mirza, and the wazir Mirzâ Salman, who captured `Adil Giray, the brother of the khan of the Crimea, in Shirvón, and led him in triumph to Qazvin. The Qizilbâsh found in `Adil Giray the pretext for the assassination of Mand-i `Ulyâ. Accusing her of a criminal liaison with the prisoner, a group of Qizilbâsh burst into the harem on Jumada 1987/26 July 15 79 and murdered her. `Adil Giray was also killed. The six principal conspirators represented all but one of the leading tribes, and in this way the Qizilbâish hoped to prevent retribution falling on any one tribe.

The death of Mand-i 'Ulya did not mean an increase in the authority of the shah, for the Qizilbâsh took over control of the state. At Qazvin, the Turkmân and Takkalû tribes held a dominant position. In Khurâsân, an Ustâjlû-Shâmlû coalition led by `Ali Quli Khan Shâmlii, the governor of Herat, and Murshid Quli Khân Ustâjlû, the governor of Khwâf and

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Bakharz, raised the standard of revolt, and swore allegiance to `Abbas, the ten-year old son of Sultan Muhammad Shah (Rabi' I 989/April—May 1581). The rebels made several attempts to extend the area of Khurasân under their control, and in particular tried unsuccessfully first to persuade by peaceful means and then to overthrow by force their chief opponent in Khurasan, the Turkmân chief Murtada Quli Khan Purnak, the governor of Mashhad.

In Shawwa 1990/November 1582 the royal army appeared in Khurasan. The Ustajlû leader, Murshid Quli Khan, declared his allegiance to Hamza Mirza, and received the royal pardon. The Shamlû leader was now isolated, and the royal army drove him back to Herat, and laid siege to that city (Rabi` II 991 /May 1583). The Qizilbâsh besieging forces showed no enthusiasm for their task. It is alleged that their chiefs were opposed to the whole idea of the Khurasan expedition, because they considered that the Ottoman threat was the more urgent. This was only an excuse. In reality this represents a recrudescence of Turcoman-Persian antipathy in its most violent form. More than anything else, the Qizilbâsh resented being placed under the command of a Persian, the wazir Mirza Salman. It was over seventy years since a Persian, or, to use the pejorative term favoured by the Qizilbâsh, a Tajik, had held such high military command. The fundamental dichotomy in the Safavid state between Turk and Persian was nevertheless as sharp as ever. Mirza Salman determined to enforce the shah's authority by executing certain Qizilbâsh chiefs. Before he could carry out his plan, he was himself seized by a group of Afshâr chiefs and put to death. There is a close parallel between this incident and that of 918/1512, when the Qizilbâsh defied the authority of the Persian makil. In the circumstances, all the shah could do was to conclude a truce with `Ali Quli on the basis of the status quo ante. On 15 Sha`ban 991/3 September 1583, the Shamlû leader reaffirmed his allegiance to the shah and to Hamza Mirza, and in return secured the dismissal of the hostile governor of Mashhad.

After the assassination of the powerful wazir Mirza Salman, the prince Hamza Mirza, then about nineteen years of age, played an increasing part in state affairs. Though a man of outstanding physical bravery, he was arrogant, impulsive, and hot-tempered. He lacked the maturity of judgment and diplomatic skill which the critical situation required. Moreover, he was a heavy drinker, and, by choosing a number of the younger Qizilbâsh officers as his drinking companions, he became embroiled in Qizilbâsh faction at Qazvin. He listened to

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those who wished to weaken the position of the Turkmân tribe, and he first dismissed from the governorship of Azarbayjan, and then put to death, the Turkmân leader, Amir Khan. Preoccupied with these internal troubles, Hamza was unable to prevent the occupation of Tabriz by Ottoman forces under `Osman Pasha on 27 Ramadan 993/22 September 1585. Shortly afterwards, the Turkmans and their allies, the Takkalûs, seized control of Qazvin and swore allegiance to Hamza's brother, Tahmasp. Hamza succeeded in dispersing the rebels and recovering his brother. The following year, while campaigning against the Ottomans in the Qarabagh region, Hamza was assassinated in mysterious circumstances (24 Dhu'l-Hijja 994/6 December 1586).

In a dramatic turn of events, Murshid Quli Khan Ustâjlû, who had already demonstrated his ability to trim his sails to the prevailing wind, seized control of Mashhad, and, in the ensuing clash with `Ali Quli Khan Shamlû (12 Rajab 993/10 July 1585), gained possession of the latter's trump card, namely, the young prince `Abbas, then about fourteen years of age. The Ustajlû chief pressed his advantage. He sent an envoy to Qazvin to sound the chiefs Qizilbâsh at the capital, where there had been an abortive attempt to place yet another of the shah's sons, Abu Talib, on the throne. The chiefs promised support, but hesitated to commit themselves irrevocably. In Muharram 996/ December 1587 a huge force of Özbegs under 'Abd Allah Khan poured across the frontier into Khurasan and laid siege to Herat. This invasion decided Murshid Quli Khan to risk a march on Qazvin. If he remained in Khurasan, he might well be overwhelmed by the Özbegs. When he reached Qazvin, a public demonstration in favour of `Abbas decided the wavering Qizilbâsh chiefs. On io Dhu'l-Qa`da 996/1 October 1588, Sultan Muhammad Shah, a pathetic figure in the grip of forces beyond his control, handed over the insignia of kingship to his son, who was crowned Shah `Abbas I. The latter was seventeen years old. Murshid Quli Khan, who had placed him on the throne, was the most powerful man in the kingdom, and received the title of wakil of the supreme diwân.

Thus ended the second and final period of Qizilbâsh domination of the Safavid state. The first period had lasted from 930/1524 to 940/1533, when Shah Tahmasp was too young to impose any effective control. The second period, also roughly a decade in duration, lasted from the assassination of Mand-i `Ulya to the abdication of Sultan Muhammad Shah in favour of `Abbas (987-96/1 579-88). Sultan Muhammad Shah, suffering from the eye affliction which eventually made him nearly blind,

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[Carte des la Perse et de pays voisins]

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and temperamentally unsuited to rule, was unable, even with the aid of his son Hamza, to keep the Qizilbâsh under control. The result in each case was the same. The Safavid state, torn by Qizilbdsh faction, was at the mercy of its traditional enemies, the Ottomans and the Özbegs. The citadel at Tabriz had been in the hands of an Ottoman garrison since 993/1585 , despite efforts to dislodge it. At Herat, `Ali Quli Khan Shamlû, after a heroic defence lasting nine months, was treacherously put to death when the Özbegs finally stormed the city in Rabi` 1997/ February 1589. His old rival, Murshid Quli Khan Ustajla, had deliberately delayed the departure of a relief force from Qazvin. The Özbegs advanced to lay siege to Mashhad and Sarakhs. `Abbas realized the impossibility of fighting on two fronts with the forces at his disposal, and in order to free his hands in the east he signed in 998/1589-90 a peace treaty which ceded large areas of Persian territory to the Ottomans. The regions of Azarbayjan, Qarabagh, Ganja, Qarajadagh, together with Georgia and parts of Luristan and Kurdistan, were to remain in Ottoman hands. Never before had the Ottomans made such inroads into Safavid territory. The acceptance of such a humiliating peace is an indication of the weakness of `Abbas's position at his accession.

`Abbas realized that he must lose no time in bringing the Qizilbâsh to heel. Any punitive measures, however, would limit his ability to take the field against Persia's external foes, because the Okilbiish troops were still the backbone of the Safavid army. He therefore at once formed the cavalry corps of ghulâms already referred to, drawn from the ranks of Georgian, Armenian and Circassian prisoners, or their descendants. Many of these prisoners had been brought to Persia during the reign of Shah Tahmasp. They were converts to Islam. This new corps, which was eventually brought up to a strength of 10,000 men by new recruitment, was paid direct from the royal treasury. The ghulâms thus owed their allegiance first and foremost to the person of the shah, and not to any tribal leader. The decision to pay this corps from the royal treasury immediately raised the problem of how the shah was to acquire the necessary funds. Hitherto, most of the Safavid empire had been held by the Qizilbâsh chiefs, who as provincial governors consumed the greater part of the revenue of their provinces. In return, they were obliged to maintain a stated number of troops at the disposal of the ruler, and to be ready to take the field in answer to his call. If these provincial governors also held a post in the central administration, as was frequently the case, they would remain at court and sub-assign the government of their province. These Qizilbâsh governors remitted to the central government only a small proportion of the taxes which they levied, and even then, these monies were not under the direct control of the ruler, but were administered by a special ministry of state lands (diwân-i mamdlik). The revenue needed by the shah for the expenses of the royal household was derived from crown lands, known as khâssa, the revenue from which was levied by the shah's comptrollers or intendants, and remitted to the royal treasury. Since `Abbas I increased the number of troops paid directly by himself, he must have also increased the extent of the crown lands at the expense of the state lands. This process was accelerated under his successors, and ultimately crown lands were extended to a degree which was detrimental to the health of the state. For whereas it was in the interests of a provincial governor to maintain his province in a flourishing condition and thereby to increase the amount of revenue which he enjoyed, the comptrollers who collected the revenue in the khâssa provinces were interested only in remitting the maximum amount of money to the royal treasury in order to satisfy the shah. This necessarily led to extortion and abuses of all kinds. The people were oppressed by officials who had no interest in the prosperity of the area from which they were collecting taxes.

`Abbas was quickly put to the test. His wakil, Murshid Quli Khan Ustajlû, was forewarned of a plot against his life in which members of nearly all the Qizilbâsh tribes were involved. The wakil fled to the court, pursued by the conspirators, who urged `Abbas to dismiss him and set up a council of amirs, similar to that which existed during the reign of Sultan Muhammad Shah, to govern the state. Had `Abbas shown any sign of weakness, he would have condemned himself to a subordinate role of the sort endured by his father. But he reacted with characteristic determination. He executed the ringleaders of the conspiracy, and, invoking the aid of ‘all who loved the shah' among the Qizilbâsh, he hunted down and put to death all those he suspected of complicity in the plot. A few escaped to Baghdad and took refuge with the Ottomans. The Qizilbâsh were given no time to recover. On 10 Ramadan 997/23 July 1589 `Abbas arranged the assassination of the too-powerful wakil, Murshid Quli Khan, and executed the leader of the Turkman tribe who had proclaimed his brother Tahmasp shah at Qazvin in 993 /1585. These summary displays of royal authority caused some detachments of Qizilbâsh to desert in fear of their lives. In 999/1590, `Abbas's sense of insecurity led him to blind his unfortunate father and

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brothers, all of whom had been kept under close guard since his accession.

Despite all his efforts, `Abbas was unable to restore order and build up his forces quickly enough to prevent the further deterioration of the position in eastern Persia. Mashhad in Khurasan had fallen to the Özbegs, and the province of Sistan had been overrun. Qandahar, which had been in Safavid hands since 943 /1537, was lost to the Mughal empire in 999/1590-1 . By 1000/ 1592. the eastern frontier of Persia was roughly where it had been a hundred years previously, at the accession of Ismail I. `Abbas took an army to Khurasan, but achieved nothing permanent because he still hesitated to commit his forces to a pitched battle. He continued to take disciplinary measures against the Qizilbâsh chiefs. Those who had been slow in joining the royal camp, or who had not sent their proper quota of troops, were dismissed from their governorships, which they could only regain on payment of a heavy fine. `Abbas could never rid himself of his distrust of the Qizilbâsh which had been engendered by the events of his boyhood. A Qizilbâsh chief, even if he had served the shah loyally, was liable to be executed without warning if the shah considered he had become too powerful. In 1007/ 1598, for instance, `Abbas executed Farhad Khan Qaramanlû, who, after years of hard and skilful fighting, had pacified the provinces of Gilan and Mazandaran, which were annexed to the Safavid empire in 1006/1 597.

The death of the formidable Özbeg leader 'Abd Allah II in 1006/early 1598, and of his son the following year, gave `Abbas his chance in the east. The Özbegs were engaged in dynastic struggles and the control of Transoxania ultimately passed to the Astrakhan khanate. The transfer of the capital from Qazvin to Isfahan in 1006/1597-8 indicates `Abbas's confidence that the eastern frontier would ultimately be made secure. In Muharram 1007/August 1 598 `Abbas completely defeated the Özbeg army and liberated Herat. By a series of alliances with the local Özbeg chiefs who held the frontier areas such as Mery and Balkh, `Abbas sought to achieve a lasting pacification of the eastern frontier. Although these chiefs occasionally departed from their allegiance, `Abbas's measures were sufficiently successful to enable him to suspend operations in the east in 1011/1602-3 , and to turn his attention to the arch-enemy in the west, the Ottomans. In 1014/1605-6 `Abbas inflicted a decisive defeat on the Ottomans near Tabriz, and reoccupied Nakhchivan and Erivan, Ganja and Tiflis. The Ottomans evacuated all

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forts south of the Aras river. By Rabi` II 1016/ July 1607 the last Ottoman soldier had been cleared from Persian territory as recognized by the peace of Amasya in 962/1555. Further desultory fighting on the north-west frontier was temporarily terminated by the peace of Sarab in I027/1618.

For the first ten years of his reign, until he defeated the Özbegs in 1007/1598-9, `Abbas was essentially conducting a holding operation on all fronts. By 1003/1595, however, the policy which `Abbas had introduced on his accession, of training ghulâms to counterbalance the influence of the Qizilbâsh, had begun to bear fruit, and `Abbas was able to appoint to the governorship of the important province of Fars a Georgian named Allahvardi Khan, who held the office of qullar-âqâsi, or commander of the ghulâms. Allahvardi Khan had already proved his devotion to the shah by being a party to the assassination of the wakil Murshid Quli Khan in 996/1589. For his services on that occasion, he was rewarded with the title of sultan and a small governorate near Isfahan. By his new appointment, he became the first ghulâm to attain equality of rank with the Qizilbâsh chiefs, and to have an equal voice with them in council. Implicit obedience to the shah, rather than membership of one of the Qizilbâsh tribes, was henceforth to be the criterion for royal favour. The number of ghulâms appointed to such posts steadily increased, until they filled some twenty per cent of the high administrative posts. Allahvardi Khan became the commander-in-chief of the Persian armed forces in 1007/1598, entrusted with the reorganization of the army along the lines suggested by Sir Robert Sherley, who had just arrived at the shah's court with his brother, Anthony, and a group of some twenty-five soldiers of fortune. As already mentioned, the Sherleys' claim to have introduced the Persians to artillery and hand-guns is entirely without foundation, but the advice of the Sherleys and their companions, particularly in the problems of training the new units and of casting cannon, was much appreciated by the shah, who appointed Sir Robert `Master General against the Turks'. In addition to the corps of ghulâms, now increased in strength to 10,000, three new regiments were formed : a personal body-guard for the shah, numbering 3,000, also composed of ghulâms; a regiment of musketeers, 12,000 strong, recruited mainly from the Persian peasantry; and a regiment of artillery, with 12,000 men and 500 guns. `Abbas thus had a standing army of about 37,000 men paid directly from the royal treasury, and owing allegiance only to him. The aversion of the Persians to the use of firearms, referred to earlier, was

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still strong. They particularly disliked artillery, because it hampered the free movement of their cavalry. In 1011/ 1602, in an action against the Özbegs near Balkh, the Safavids abandoned 300 of their new guns without having brought them into action. In general, the Safavids made good use of artillery in siege warfare, but never made any effective use of it in the field. `Abbas II 1052-77/1642-66) even went so far as to abolish the corps of artillery, and it was not reformed until the reign of Shah Sultan Husayn 1105-35/1694-1722).

The revolution in the social structure of the Safavid state effected by `Abbas I was naturally reflected in the principal offices of state. The title wakil, representing the outmoded concept of the vicegerent of a theocratic ruler, fell into disuse. The use of this title by Murshid Quli Khan Ustajla during the early years of `Abbas's reign was an attempt to revert to the original concept of the wakil. When `Abbas demonstrated that he did not intend to be subordinate to the Qizilbâsh chiefs, it was logical that he should allow this title to lapse. The principal spokesman of the Qizilbâsh in the highest counsels of state was now the qûrchibâshi, the commander of the qûrchis, the name by which the old Qizilbâsh tribal cavalry was henceforth most frequently known. The title amir al-umarâ', by which the commander-in-chief of the Qizilbâsh troops was formerly known, occurs only rarely. The head of the bureaucracy, the spokesman for the Persian elements, and in fact the most powerful official in the state, continued to be known as wazir, or by one of two new and more grandiose titles, i` timâd al-dawla or sadr-i a`zam—the latter being identical with the title of the Ottoman grand vezir. It should not be confused with the sadr, whose decline and eventual eclipse reflects the growing secularization of the Safavid state from the time of `Abbas I onwards. The commanders of two of the new regiments, the qullar-âqâsi and the tufangchi-âqâsi, respectively in command of the ghulâms and the musketeers, ranked among the five principal officers of state, and the new Georgian, Armenian and Circassian elements in the state were thus represented at the highest level. The remaining official, the ishik-aqâsi-bâshi, or major-domo, was usually a Qizilbâsh chief. `Abbas made quite certain that he would have an adequate reservoir of Caucasians from whom ghulâms could be recruited in whatever numbers were needed to offset the influence of the Qizilbâsh. In 1013/1604, 20,000 Armenians were enrolled in the ghulâms; in 1025/1616, 130,000 Georgians were taken prisoner. Under the guise of military necessity, `Abbas transferred large bodies of people from one area to another : in 1023/1614, 15,000

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Georgian families were moved from Kakheti to Mazandaran; and 3,000 Armenian families were taken from Julfa in Azarbayjan and settled in a suburb of Isfahân. Further, `Abbas tried to weaken the tribal bonds which were the source of Qizilbâsh strength, by transferring groups from one tribe to a district belonging to another.

During the reign of `Abbas I, there was an increase of diplomatic and commercial activity in Persia. The Dutch, the Portuguese and the English fought fiercely for commercial supremacy in the Persian Gulf. In 1031/1622 `Abbas was able to turn this rivalry to his advantage when he invoked the aid of the English to expel the Portuguese from the island of Hormuz. Spain, Portugal and England sent ambassadors to the Persian court. The French sent an ambassador, who was arrested by the Ottomans at Istanbul and forced to return to France. The envoy of Philip III of Spain made three visits to Isfahan between 1017/1608 and 1029/1618. The first accredited ambassador from England arrived at the Persian capital in Sha`bân-Ramadan 1036/May 1627, but his mission was a failure. Christian religious orders, such as the Carmelite, Augustinian, and Capuchin friars, were given permission to found convents at Isfahan and, after its recapture from the Ottomans in 1033/1623, at Baghdad.

To sum up, `Abbas's reign was one of solid achievement. Coming to the throne at a critical time, he established the Safavid state on a new basis by a series of far-reaching measures. Although these measures contained within them the seeds of future decay<sup>92</sup>, the measure of the achievement of `Abbas is that the Safavid empire continued to go forward for another century under the momentum which he imparted to it, despite the fact that for the greater part of this period it was in the hands of inept rulers. `Abbas made his capital, Isfahan, one of the beautiful cities of the world. Although Safavid architecture is in general not noted for its originality, `Abbas I, in the Masjid-i Shah (begun in 1020/1611) and the Masjid-i Shaykh Lutf Allah (begun in 1012/1603), was responsible for two of the undoubted masterpieces of Persian architecture. The energy which `Abbas expended on public works is demonstrated by the fact that at his death there were in Isfahan alone 162 mosques, 48 colleges, 1,802 caravanserais, and 273 baths. Outside Isfahan, `Abbas's principal architectural work was the reconstruction of the shrine of the Imam `Ali al-Rida at Mashhad. He made generous benefactions to this shrine and to that of the Safavid family at Ardabil. Unlike the Sasanids and the Achaemenids, the Safavid monarchs did not

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seek to impress posterity by the construction of grandiose palaces. Shah `Abbas's residences at Isfahan were on a modest scale. `Abbas himself much preferred his country retreats on the shores of the Caspian, Ashraf and Farahabad, which he built about 1021/1612-13, and where during the latter part of his reign he regularly spent the winter. Farababad in particular became virtually a second capital. To give access to these winter residences `Abbas constructed his famous causeway along the marshy Caspian littoral. For this purpose he had blocks of stone and marble brought from Baku. Farahabad was sacked by the Cossacks in 1078/1668; Ashraf was devastated successively by Turcomans, Afghans and Zands, and the main palace was destroyed by fire in the time of Nadir Shah.

During the Safavid period as a whole there was a remarkable flowering of the arts, and the reign of `Abbas marks its high point. Although Safavid metalwork cannot equal the production of the Seljuk and early Mongol period, in book painting and the illumination of manuscripts, in ceramics, in textiles, and in carpets and rugs, the Persian genius found its highest expression during the Safavid period. The sumptuous apparel and elaborate pavilions with rich hangings excited the admiration of travellers who visited the Persian court, and a taste for Persian luxury articles arose in Renaissance Europe and in Russia. The skilful use of complicated weaves, the combination of brilliant colours in varigated designs, and an apparently unfailing inventiveness in the use of arabesque and floral ornament, enabled the Persians to produce textiles of a unique richness and variety. The extension of royal patronage to the weavers raised carpet-weaving from the level of a cottage industry to the status of a fine art, and the renaissance of Persian pottery culminated in the reign of `Abbas I. Only, perhaps, in painting must pride of place be given to the productions of the reign of Tahmasp. In 928/1522 Shah Ismail brought the famous Timurid painter Bihzâd from Herat to Tabriz, and made him director of the royal library. His successors who worked for Shah Tahmasp at Tabriz formed a brilliant school, and some of the finest Persian manuscript illustrations date from this period.

Shah `Abbas the Great does not suffer by comparison with the other great rulers of the age—Elizabeth I, Charles V, Süleyman the Magnificent and the Mughal Emperor Akbar. In personal courage he recalls his great-grandfather Ismail I. What he achieved, he achieved by unremitting labour in the interests of the state. Not only did he personally direct and supervise the administration of the Safavid empire, but he

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kept in close touch with the common people by frequenting the markets and the tea-houses, concerned to learn of and root out corruption and oppression wherever it might be found. His zeal for justice was one of his great qualities. It is the more tragic, therefore, that his youth, spent in an atmosphere of treachery and insecurity, should have made him ruthless when there was a real or fancied threat to his own person or position. His harsh treatment of Qizilbâsh chiefs has already been mentioned. Historians have found it difficult to excuse his treatment of his own sons. 'Abbas seems to have been haunted by the memory of the way in which he had overthrown his own father, and constantly to have feared that one of his own sons would treat him in the same way. This fear caused him to lend too ready an ear to informers. The extraordinary lengths to which he went to segregate his sons from political and military leaders are well attested. To begin with, 'Abbas followed the traditional Safavid administrative pattern by appointing his sons to provincial governorates, and sending them to these in the charge of Qizilbâsh chiefs. Thus, his eldest son Muhammad Baqir, also known as Safi, was made governor of Khurâsân when 'Abbas marched westward to seize the throne from his father, and a year or so later his second son, Hasan, was appointed governor of Mashhad. But the revolt of the Qizilbâsh chief who was Hasan's guardian seems to have marked the turning-point in 'Abbas's relationship with his sons. Henceforth their only companions were the court eunuchs and their tutors. It became a capital crime to display undue friendship towards the princes. They left the capital only to accompany the shah on his campaigns ; 'Abbas feared that, if they remained in the capital during his absence, they might become the centre of a plot against him. In fairness to 'Abbas, it must be admitted that these fears were not without foundation. The Qizilbâsh revolt in favour of Masan was followed in 1023/1614-5 by an alleged conspiracy to kill the shah involving Muhammad Bâgir and certain Circassian elements at court. Whatever the truth was on this occasion, the execution of those Circassians on whom suspicion had fallen led the Circassian chiefs to come out openly in support of Muhammad Bâgir, and 'Abbas, now thoroughly alarmed, had his son assassinated in Muharram 1024/ February 1615. It is fairly certain that Muhammad Bâgir was the innocent victim of Circassian intrigue, and 'Abbas was filled with remorse at his action. Unhappily these events increased `Abbas's fears, and created in him a morbid fear of assassination. In 1030/1621 'Abbas fell ill.

His third son, Muhammad, also known as Khudâbanda after his grand-

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father, prematurely celebrated his death, and openly solicited support among the Qizilbâsh. On his recovery, 'Abbas ordered him to be blinded. As his second son, Hasan, and his fourth son, Ismail, had already died from natural causes, 'Abbas had only one son eligible to succeed him, his fifth son, Imam Quli Mirza, and he, too, was blinded in 1036/1626-7. Two years later, on 24 Jumada I 1038/19 January 1629, Shah 'Abbas died, at the age of fifty-eight, having reigned for over forty years.

As Shah 'Abbas had no son able to succeed him, his grandson Sam Mirzâ, was proclaimed ruler under the title of Shah Safi on 23 Jumada II, 1038/17 February 1629. Safi's reign marks the beginning of Safavid decline. It has already been pointed out that the formation by 'Abbas I of a standing army of ghulâms necessarily meant the expansion of crown lands at the expense of the ` state' provinces ruled by Qizilbâsh governors, in order to provide the royal treasury with sufficient funds to pay these new regiments. Safi's wazfr, Sârû Taqi, represented to him that, as the Safavid state was now relatively secure from its external enemies, to allow the greater part of Safavid territory to remain under Qizilbâsh government, contributing virtually nothing to the treasury, was unnecessarily to deprive the central government of revenue. The shah agreed, and the rich province of Fars which, by reason of its distance from the frontiers of Persia, was not immediately threatened by foreign invasion, was brought under the direct control of the shah, and was administered on his behalf by an overseer. Every increase in the extent of crown lands at the expense of ` state' lands meant a corresponding decrease in the strength of the Qizilbâsh forces.

This policy was carried to such lengths by Shah 'Abbas II (1052-77/ 1642-66) that the provinces of Qazvin, Gilân, Mâzandarân, Yazd, Kirmân, Khurâsân and Azarbayjân were all brought under the direct administration of the crown except in time of war, when governors were reappointed. The evil effects of this policy have already been stressed. Sound, if somewhat wasteful, administration was replaced by oppressive government which impaired the prosperity of the provinces. The country was weakened militarily, partly because the reduction in Qizilbâsh strength was not made good by a corresponding increase in the size of the ghulâm forces, and partly because in practice the ghulâms did not possess the fighting qualities of the old Qizilbâsh troops. In most respects, however, Shah 'Abbas II stood head and shoulders above all the later Safavid monarchs. He was a strong, capable, and energetic ruler, and during his lifetime the various conflicting forces in the Safavid

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state were kept in check. In 1057/1648 he recovered Qandahar from the Mughals, who had seized the city from Shah Safi some ten years earlier. In his passion for justice, and his unremitting concern for the welfare of the common people, he most resembled his great-grandfather, `Abbas the Great. After his death, the process of decline not only resumed, but accelerated.

The second important factor contributing to Safavid decline was the degeneration of the dynasty through the confinement of the royal princes in the harem. In the time of Ismail I and Tahmasp I, it was the custom for the heir-apparent to be appointed to the government of the important province of Khurasan. He was placed in the care of a lâlâ or guardian, a high-ranking Qizilbâsh chief, who carried on the actual business of government, and was also responsible for the training and welfare of his charge. The young prince thus received from an early age an education and training which fitted him to succeed to the throne in due course. His brothers were usually appointed to other important governorates, similarly in the charge of lâlâs. Of course this system had its dangers. The lalas might encourage their wards to rebel against the shah. But this danger was infinitely to be preferred to the dangers of keeping the princes in the harem, subject to the debilitating influence of harem life, and a prey to the intrigues and rivalries of the women of the harem and the court eunuchs. In place of a possible, but by no means inevitable, provincial revolt in favour of one of the princes during the lifetime of the shah, there was the virtual certainty of a struggle over the succession as the mothers of rival princes, and the court eunuchs, strove to place their own candidate on the throne. By the time of Shah Sulayman 1077-1105/1666-94), the eunuchs had usurped the authority of the shah. Sulayman was an alcoholic. The contemporary observer, Sir John Chardin, comments on the shah's astonishing ability to hold his liquor; no Swiss or German, he asserts, could compete with him. The shah was also a recluse. He is said to have remained in the harem for seven years without once emerging. His successor, Shah Sultan Husayn, was of a pious and kindly disposition, and was nicknamed `Mulla Husayn'. A probably apocryphal, but nevertheless significant, story alleges that Shah Sulayman did not nominate an heir, but said in effect to his officers of state, if they wanted peace and quiet, they should choose his son Husayn, but if they wanted a powerful ruler and expanding empire, they should elect his son `Abbas. The court eunuchs elected Husayn because they hoped to establish their ascendancy over

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such a mild and pliant monarch. Their hopes were fulfilled. Shah Sultan Husayn (1105-35/1694-1722) soon abandoned his austere way of life, and, like his father, took to drink and debauchery. He became so luxorious that the size and magnificence of his harem was a serious drain on the exchequer. Like his father Sulayman, he had no interest in state affairs, and the court and the harem had little difficulty in bending the shah to their will. The religious classes, led by the mujtahid Muhammad Bagir al-Majlisi, strove in vain to counteract their influence. Occasionally the forces of religion achieved a temporary success, as when 60,000 bottles of wine from the royal cellars were brought out and publicly smashed.

There was increasing corruption and inefficiency in provincial government. Insecurity on the roads, always a sign of the breakdown of the central administration, was widespread. The very officials responsible for the security of travellers were often those who looted them. The army was neglected, and the military weakness of the country was thrown into sharp relief in 1110/1698-9, when a band of Balûchi tribesmen raided Kirman, nearly reached Yazd, and threatened Bandar `Abbas. Shah Sultan Husayn turned to the Georgian Prince Giorgi XI, ruler of Kartli, who happened to be at the Persian court, for help in repelling these marauders. Giorgi was appointed governor of Kirman in 1110/1699, and held this post until 1115/1704. The Balûchis were defeated. This episode suggests first, that the shah felt that the Georgians were the only people on whose loyalty he could rely; second, that there was no commander, either among the Qizilbâsh or the ghulâm forces, capable of dealing with the crisis. Georgian influence at the Persian capital was at its height at this time. Giorgi's brother, Leon, and his nephew, Kay Khusraw, both held important posts in Isfahan. In 1117/1706 the shah left the capital and visited the two important Shi’i shrines in Persia, that of Fatima the daughter of the seventh Imam, at Qumm, and that of her brother, the Imam 'All al-Rida, at Mashhad. He took with him the harem, a retinue of courtiers, and an escort of 60,000. He was away for nearly a year, and the cost of this expedition not only drained the exchequer still further, but placed an intolerable burden of additional taxation on the provinces through which the shah passed. During the shah's absence from the capital, a revolt broke out in favour of his brother `Abbas. This was suppressed by a force of Georgian troops under Kay Khusraw.

In 1120/1709 the weakness of the eastern frontier was further demon-

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strated when the Ghalzay Afghans under Mir Vays seized Qandahar and assassinated Giorgi XI. Qandahar had been in Safavid hands since 1058/1648. Kay Khusraw, despatched from Isfahan, was unable to restore the situation. One reason for this was that Kay Khusraw, though he had nominally accepted Islam, was like so many Georgian renegades, still a Christian at heart, and he did not command the full support of the Qizilbâsh detachments in his army. Mir Vays ruled at Qandahar until his death in 1127/1715, and the following year his son Mahmûd assumed the leadership of the Ghalzay Afghans. On the northern sector of the eastern frontier, the Abdâli Afghans rebelled at Herat, laid siege to Mashhad, and defeated three successive,Qizilbâsh forces sent against them. The shah was so alarmed by the situation that he transferred his capital from Isfahan to Qazvin, ostensibly to organize a new force against the Afghans. He remained at Qazvin for three years, from winter 1131/1718-19 to spring 1133 /1721, but nothing was done. Mahmûd of the Ghalzay Afghans achieved what the shah could not, the subjection of the Abdâlis, and thereby substantially increased his own power. Shah Sultan Husayn recognized him as governor of Qandahar, and gave him the title of Husayn Quli (`the slave of Husayn') Khan. The irony of this title was doubtless not lost on the shah when Mahmûd occupied Kirmân for nine months in 1131-2/171 9 and, encouraged by the lack of opposition, launched a more serious attack in the autumn of 1133-4/1721. At Isfahan, there were divided counsels. Some advised the defence of the city, on the grounds that the Safavid troops available were no match for the Afghans in the open field. The only seasoned troops at hand were the tribal levies of the governor of Luristân, and a ghulâm detachment under the Georgian prince, Rustam. There was a hasty levy of untrained peasants and merchants in the Isfahan area. This scratch force, whose chances of success were vitiated even at this critical moment by dissension among its commanders, was routed by Mahmûd at Gulnâbâd, about eighteen miles east of Isfahan, on 3o Jumada I 1134/8 March 1722.

In the capital, the irresolute shah was in the hands of a traitorous pro-Afghan faction, but even so, Mahmûd's force was too weak to allow him to follow up his victory by storming the city, and the most he could achieve was the gradual extension of a cordon around it. Early in June, the troops of the governor of Luristân reached a point some forty miles north-west of the capital, and demanded the abdication of the shah in favour of his more energetic brother, `Abbas. The shah refused.

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The conspirators kept under close guard in the harem the shah's two elder sons, who had shown signs of courage and resolution, but the third son, Tahmasp, who was weak and ineffectual like his father, was passed through the Afghan lines on the night of 3-4 Ramadan/7-8 June. Even Tahmâsp might by his mere presence have constituted a rallying-point for loyalist troops, had he joined forces with the governor of Luristân. Instead, however, he went to Qazvin, and remained inactive. From Sha`ban—Ramadan/ June onwards, the people of Isfahan were subject to severe famine. They consumed cats, dogs, mice, and even human flesh. The streets were piled high with rotting corpses. On 1 Muharram I 135/12 October 1722 Shah Sultan Husayn surrendered unconditionally, after six months of siege. At least 80,000 people had died from starvation and disease, more than four times the number who fell in battle. Isfahan never recovered from its ordeal, and its population today, about 650,000, is perhaps one-half of its population in Safavid times⁹³. On 14 Muharram/25 October Mahmûd entered Isfahan, and assumed the crown of Persia. For over fifty years, during the reigns of Shah Sulaymân and Shah Sultan Husayn, the social, political and moral foundations of the Safavid state had been steadily undermined, and, at the last, the once-imposing edifice collapsed with ridiculous ease before a blow administered by a handful of Afghan tribesmen.

The Afghans, though the nominal rulers of Persia, never succeeded in making themselves masters of the whole country. For fourteen years, representatives of the Safavid house maintained a shadowy existence in various parts of northern Persia. On 30 Muharram 1135/10 November 1722, the ex-shah's son Tahmâsp proclaimed himself Shah Tahmâsp II at Qazvin. When the Afghans marched on Qazvin, he fled to Tabriz. A rising of the townspeople of Qazvin on 1 Rabi` I 1135/8 January 1723 drove the Afghans out of the city, and at Isfahan, Mahmûd, fearing a similar rising, slaughtered many high-ranking Persian officials and nobles, together with about 3,000,Qiziilbâsh guards. This panic-stricken action clearly demonstrates the precarious nature of the hold of the Afghans on Persia, but the modicum of leadership necessary to dislodge them did not exist. Shiraz held out against them for nine months, and Yazd repulsed them with heavy losses. In Rabi` I—Jumada 1113 7/February 1725 Mahmûd, alarmed still further by reports that Safi, another of the ex-shah's sons, had escaped from Isfahan, ordered a general massacre of all members of the Safavid royal house with the exception of the ex-shah and two young princes. At least eighteen persons perished.

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Two months later Mahmûd, who had shown increasing signs of madness, was overthrown by his cousin, Ashraf, who was proclaimed shah on 29 Dhu'l-Hijja 5137/26 April 1725.

The territory under Ashraf's control comprised central and southern Persia, the province of Sistan, and the western part of Khurasan. Ashraf inaugurated his reign first, by putting to death Mahmûd's guards, together with those officials and courtiers who had been Mahmûd's intimates and might conspire against himself; secondly, by executing those officers who had placed him on the throne; thirdly, by blinding his own brother. In the autumn of 1139/1726 the Ottomans,who had been at peace with Persia since the treaty of Zuhab in 1049/1639, resumed their invasions of Persia. This time, their avowed object was to reinstate the legitimate ruler of Persia. Ashraf retaliated by executing the ex-shah, Sultan Husayn. When the two armies met near Hamadan on 14 Rabi' 1188/20 November 1726, Ashraf disrupted the Ottoman army by emphasizing their common adherence to Sunni Islam, and by calling on them to unite against their common foe, the heretically Shi`i Safavids. So successful was his propaganda that some 20,000 Kurdish troops in the Ottoman army deserted to the Afghans, and the majority of the Ottoman army refused to attack. In Safar-Rabi` I 1140/October 1727 Ashraf negotiated peace, and recognized the whole of western and north-western Persia as Ottoman territory.

The soi-disant Tahmasp II, after a period in Mazandarân, had established himself at Astarabad in north-eastern Persia, where the powerful Qâjâr tribe gave him their support. In 1138/1726 he was joined by Nadir Khan Afshar, who gradually gained an ascendancy over Tahmasp, and eliminated rival chieftains whose ambitions clashed with his own. After hard fighting against Abdali Afghans in the Herat region (1139-41/ 1727-9) in a series of campaigns designed to protect his rear when he advanced south, Nadir marched on Isfahan. Ashraf decided to anticipate a possible pro-Safavid rising in the capital by the method used by his predecessor, namely, the massacre of large numbers of theologians and members of the nobility. The Afghan army was routed in a battle thirty-five miles north-west of Isfahan, and Nadir, entering the city on 24 Rabi` II 1142/16 November 1729, summoned Tahmasp to ascend the throne, which had been in the hands of Afghan usurpers for seven years. In December, Nadir defeated Ashraf near Shiraz. The Afghan leader fled, and the Afghan interlude was at an end. Nadir, however,

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had no intention of allowing a restoration of the Safavid dynasty on a permanent basis. He had professed his allegiance to the Safavid cause solely to enlist the support of pro-Safavid elements. In Rabi` I 1145 / August 1732 Nadir deposed Tahmasp II in favour of the latter's son 'Abbas, who was crowned as `Abbas III. `Abbas III was only an infant, and Nadir was the real ruler of the country. On 24 Shawwal 1148/8 March 1736 Nadir had himself crowned as Nadir Shah, and the Safavid dynasty, which since 1135 /1722 had existed in name only, now ceased to exist even in name.

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CHAPTER 6 PERSIA: THE BREAKDOWN OF SOCIETY

The seeds of the decline of the Safavid empire are already to be seen after the death of Shah `Abbas I, and when the Afghan invasion finally brought about its fall in 1135/1722 a period of disorder followed. Trade was interrupted and a general decline in civic and cultural life took place. This was not a new experience for Persia : earlier empires had disintegrated before the inroads of nomadic or semi-nomadic invaders. On this occasion, however, the invader did not succeed in establishing an empire as had, for example, the Seljuks, the Mongols and the Timurids.

Tahmasp, the son of Shah Sultan Husayn, the last Safavid ruler, who was besieged by the Afghans in Isfahan, sought the assistance severally of Peter the Great and the Ottoman sultan. The former captured Dar-band and Baku and concluded in 1723 a treaty with Tahmasp, who ceded to Russia all the Persian possessions on the Caspian Sea on condition Peter expelled the Afghans and put him (Tahmasp) on the Persian throne. In 1724, however, anticipating the disintegration of the Persian kingdom, the Russians and the Ottomans made an abortive treaty for the partition of Persia. In 1140/1727 the Ottomans forced Ashraf, who in 1137/ 1725 had succeeded Mahmild, the first Afghan ruler of Persia, to cede to them those provinces which they had occupied in return for an agreement to acknowledge him as shah.

In 1142/1729-30 Nadir Shah, whose original name was Nadir Quli, and who belonged to the Afshar tribe, one of the main Turcoman tribes upon which Safavid power had originally rested, expelled the Afghans. He became the de facto ruler of Persia but did not assume the crown until 1148/1736. Nadir's reign was not a reintegration of the Safavid empire : if a parallel is to be sought it is to be found rather with the empires of Mahmûd of Ghazna and Timûr; and like them Nadir is chiefly remembered for his Indian exploits.

After expelling the Afghans, Nadir recovered the provinces taken from Persia by the Ottomans and the Russians. Russia restored Lahijan, Gilan, and the Persian provinces up to the River Aras by the treaty of Rasht in 1144/1732; and Baku and Ganja by the treaty of Ganja in 1147/1735. Treaties delimiting the frontier were signed with the Otto-

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mans in 1146/1733 and 1159/1746 ; in 1160/1747 part of 'Iraq and Azar-bayjan was ceded. Nadir Shah invaded India in 1151/1739 and reached Delhi; in the following year he invaded Sind, and in 1153/1740 Bukhara and Khiva. In 1154/ 1741-2 he undertook a campaign against the Lesganis of Daghistan. Thereafter until 1158/1745 he was largely occupied in putting down internal rebellions, and in campaigns against the Ottomans.

There was a tendency during the reign of Nadir Shah towards a more direct administration and a strengthening of the central government, but no effective measures were taken to develop the resources of the country. The cost of his numerous military expeditions was heavy and much of the countryside was adversely affected by repeated levies and over-taxation.

In the religious field there was an attempt to heal the breach between Sunni and Shi`i Islam by the institution of a fifth madhhab, the Ja`fari madhhab. The purpose of this seems to have been political, Nadir hoping thereby to establish his claim to the leadership of the Islamic world against the Ottoman sultan and the Mughal emperor. The attempt failed. Shi`ism had become firmly established as the religion of the majority in most of the provinces of Persia under the Safavids; and the new rite which Nadir attempted to introduce had no widespread appeal and did not take root.

On Nadir's asassination in 1160/1747 his kingdom disintegrated. Abmad Shah Abdali took Herat and Qandahar; Karim Khan Zand, after struggles with the Bakhtiyari leader `Ali Mardan Khan, and Muhammad Hasan Qajâr, established himself as a ruler of Lar, Fars, `Iraq-i `Ajam, Azarbayjan and Mazandaran; only Khurasan remained to Nadir's grandson. Karim Khan (1163-93/1750-79) established some degree of order and security in those parts of Persia over which he ruled and enjoyed a reputation for good government. He did not assume the title of shah, claiming to rule as the deputy (wakil) of the Safavids, although there does not appear to have been, in fact, any movement in favour of a Safavid revival.

On the death of Karim Khan, southern Persia became the scene of widespread disorders, Aqâ Mubammad b. Mubammad Hasan Qajar escaped from Shiraz, where he had been held captive, and went to Gurgan, then the home of the Qajars. They, like the Afshars, were one of the Turcoman tribes which had supported the Safavid revolution. Shah `Abbas had settled a branch of them in Shahij ahan on the Özbeg frontier, and another in Astarabad on the Turcoman frontier.

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Aqâ Muhammad Khan, having assembled his followers, made himself master of Gurgân, Mazandarân, and Gilan by 1204/1789 ; he then extended his authority to Tabriz, Hamadan, Tehran and Isfahan, and in due course defeated Lutf `Ali Khan, the son of Karim Khan, outside Shiraz. He took Kirman in 1208/1794 and captured Lutf `Ali near Bam.

Although Aqa Muhammad Khan had by now defeated his main rival, eastern and north-eastern Persia were fragmented among a number of local rulers, and the Özbegs under Jani Beg held Bukhara. Leaving for the moment the eastern provinces, Aqa Muhammad Khan turned his attention to the restoration of Persian power in the north-west. Tehran became the new capital. There were various reasons for this, apart from the fact that new dynasties tended to choose new capitals. It was within easy reach of Gurgân whence the Qajars drew their main support, and of Sultâniyya, with its extensive spring pastures, where troops could be assembled and despatched to the north-west or north-east, the two most vulnerable areas. It was also in a central position in the northern provinces, which were the most fertile and the most heavily populated provinces of the empire.

After the fall of the Safavids, Georgia was disputed between the Ottomans, Persia and Russia. In 1762, after the disorders on the death of Nadir, east and west Georgia became united under Heraclius (Erekle) II. Between 1762-83 the Georgian kingdom became increasingly orientated towards Russia, and in 1783 Heraclius made an agreement with the Empress Catherine II, placing himself under Russian protection and renouncing all dependence on Persia or any other power. In 1795, Aqâ Muhammad reached Ardabil with the intention of reducing Georgia to the status it had held under the Safavids. Heraclius refused the demand that he should return to his position as a tributary of Persia. Aqâ Muhammad, who had already come into conflict with Russia when he had expelled a Russian settlement from Ashraf in 1195/1781, thereupon invaded Georgia and sacked Tiflis (1209/1795). In the following year he was crowned shah.

Aqâ Muhammad Khan then marched eastwards to reimpose Persian control over Khurasan, still nominally under the Afshars. Mashhad was taken without fighting in 1210/1796. Meanwhile, a Russian force marched against Persia in retaliation for the sack of Tiflis, but on the death of Catherine in 1796 it withdrew. Aqâ Muhammad, who had returned to Tehran from Khurasan in Rabi` 1211/September 1796, set out in the spring of the following year on a campaign against Russia. He

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crossed the Aras and took Shusha. While in camp he was murdered by two slaves who, although under sentence of death for some misdemeanour, had been left free. His nephew, Baba Khan, who at the time of his uncle's death was governor of Fars, succeeded under the name of Fath `Ali Shah (I 797-1834). Various attempts at rebellion were put down without difficulty.

With the Qâjârs (1794-1925) Persia entered upon a new period of her history. During their reign Persia was transformed from a medieval Islamic monarchy, with an administration following the traditional pattern which had prevailed in the eastern provinces of the former `Abbasid caliphate, into a constitutional monarchy having the outward forms of a representative parliamentary government. The crucial factor bringing about this change was the contact which developed between Persia and western Europe and Russia in the nineteenth century.

The state over which Fath `Ali Shah reigned had much in common with the earlier kingdoms of the Seljuks, the Il-Khans, the Timurids and the Safavids; and some of the problems to which the Qâjars had to seek a solution were not dissimilar to those faced by the preceding dynasties. Externally the Qajars, like the Safavids, were forced to undertake repeated expeditions to defend their frontiers against the Ottoman Turks on the one hand and the Özbegs and Turcomans on the other. Internally there was the problem of the integration of the tribal element into the state; and as centralization increased and the administration expanded, so the problem of paying the officials of the state became more acute. But in addition to the problems which had been to a greater or lesser extent faced by earlier dynasties, the Qâjars were subject also to new external pressures, which enormously complicated their other problems.

In the early nineteenth century Russia pressed down through the Caucasus threatening Persia with the loss of Azarbayjan, one of her most valuable provinces, and sought to establish a position which would enable her to dominate Tehran; and in the second half of the century Russia also bore down upon Persia from Central Asia, threatening Gurgan and Khurasan. Because the Russian advance was thought to threaten British possessions in India, Britain joined with Russia in rivalry to gain influence at the Persian court.

There are indications that the balance between the tribal and settled elements of the population—always precarious—was changing during

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the period of Safavid decline and in the ensuing period, and that there was an increase in the numbers and influence of the tribal groups. The leading members of society in the early years of Qâjar rule were the great tribal leaders as, indeed, had been the case in the early Safavid period. Under Nadir Shah favour had been shown to the Sunni tribes, the Turcomans and the Afghans. Under the Qajars, other than the Qâjârs themselves, the most powerful groups were the Bakhtiyâris, the Kurds, the Afshars, the Qara Guzlûs, the Qashqa'is and the Arabs of Fars ; the Turcomans were important and numerous, but only very imperfectly under Qajar rule. The power of the tribal leaders derived from the military forces which they were able to assemble, and which they were bound to provide when called upon to do so by the shah. Although the heads of the great tribes were appointed by the shah, he usually had no alternative but to appoint to these offices the natural leaders. In general, the central government was unable to administer the tribal areas directly.

The provinces were under governors, who were chosen for the most part from among the tribal leaders. Gradually, as the power of the latter, other than the Qajars, declined, the provinces were largely governed by Qajar princes. In 1799 a son of Fath `Ali, `Abbas Mirzâ, was made heir to the throne (vali `ahd) and given the governorship of Azarbayjan; while four other sons were appointed governors of Kirmanshah, Fars, Khurâsân and Mâzandarân respectively. Several other princes, who were too young to exercise the functions of government themselves, were in due course appointed to other provinces and sent to their governments with wazirs, who carried on the administration for them, much as had the atabegs for their wards in Seljuk times. In the case of the prince who himself carried on the government, the function of the wazir attached to him was, as in Safavid times, in some measure to watch over his actions on behalf of the central government. The provincial governors were not the paid servants of the state. All they were required to do was to remit to the central government a definite sum by way of provincial revenue annually together with a New Year present, and to provide troops when called upon by the shah to do so. Their exercise of the power delegated to them in their government was absolute.

The tax assessment was prepared by the office of the mustawfi in the capital and sent to the province. The taxes were of two kinds, ordinary or fixed, and extraordinary. The most important of the former was the

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land-tax. In most provinces it was from five to twenty per cent of the produce after the deduction of seed and certain other expenses, varying according to the method of irrigation. It was paid partly in cash and partly in kind. Often the landowners farmed the tax to prevent the interference of government officials. Different rates prevailed for rich, intensively cultivated land round the towns and for gardens. Other fixed taxes were the cattle-tax paid by nomads and taxes levied on real estate in the towns and duties on merchandise. Revenue from fines amounted to a considerable sum. Among the extraordinary taxes, New Year presents formed an important category. These, with presents of an ad hoc nature, given for example on appointment to office, and public requisitions for special purposes, were considerable. The provincial governors were entitled to collect over and above the ordinary and extraordinary taxes the cost of the expenses of the provincial administration. Taxes were frequently in arrears and their collection often necessitated military expeditions. Fath `Ali, at the time of his death, was on his way to collect arrears of revenue from Husayn `Ali Mirza, the governor of Fars.

Had the central government been strong, and had there been solidarity between the members of the Qâjar family, the system might have worked. Neither condition was achieved; and ambitious princes were encouraged to use the provincial resources at their disposal to rebel. Further, in the absence of financial control, the existence of the provincial courts imposed an added burden on the local population. Fath `Ali, although he established his succession to the throne with little difficulty, had to contend with various rebellions by relatives and others. His death was followed by struggles between rival claimants to the throne; and on the death of his successor, Muhammad Shah, in 1848 there were widespread disorders. It was the custom of the shah to declare one of his sons walli`ahd; and by convention the mother of the prince thus chosen was also a Qajar. But the declaration of the wali `ahd was often the occasion for bitter rivalry; Fath `Ali, indeed, delayed after the death of `Abbas Mirza (1833) in declaring Muhammad Mirza (`Abbas's son) wali `ahd, because he feared that this would give rise to civil war.

The nature of the military forces of the Qajars did not contribute to stability. As in earlier times, the army was largely formed by provincial contingents and irregular cavalry and infantry, with a small body of regular troops. There was no clear dividing line between the provincial governor, the tribal leader, the landowner, and the military

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commander. This facilitated rebellion and made the control of the shah almost always precarious. Aqa Muhammad Khan's total forces probably did not exceed 70-80,000 men and his revenues were so small that he could not maintain them for more than six or seven months of the year. Their principal arms were bows and arrows, clubs, lances, swords and daggers. The cavalry wore coats of mail and some used small shields. Fire-arms consisted of long muskets, mostly matchlocks. Artillery was seldom employed. Under Fath `Ali there was a considerable expansion in the numbers of the army. In the early years of the nineteenth century the royal body-guard was composed of some 3-4,000 men and the standing army of some 12,000 men, mostly recruited from the Qajar tribe and Mazandaran. The most numerous provincial contingents came from Azarbayjan and `Iraq-i `Ajam. Pay was often in arrears; and the fact that there was no proper provision for the pay of the troops was one of the factors which contributed to the seasonal nature of campaigns : the troops could not be maintained throughout the year. During campaigns they were expected to live on the country.

Although originally tribal leaders, like their predecessors the Safavids and the Afshars, the Qajars once having taken possession of the throne, became like them absolute monarchs. They took over the concept of the ruler as ‘the Shadow of God upon Earth'/1 and the pomp and circumstance of the royal court rapidly increased. Although the Qajars did not claim to be descendants of the `Alid Imams, as had the Safavids, they sought to impress their subjects with the high and almost sacred character of their power. Nevertheless, the shah was in theory accessible to the lowest of his subjects. At the same time, in spite of the pomp observed on official occasions, the background of the steppe was not far away : and much of the time of the ruler was spent in camp and on expeditions, the government, in such cases, being carried on in the camp.

The civil administration was based on the pattern of that of the Safavid empire, the origins of which are to be found in much earlier times. All officials were the shah's deputies. He was the sole executive. Officials had no real responsibility. They were elevated and degraded at his pleasure. Under Aqa Muhammad the administration was comparatively simple. There were two chief officials under the wazir, the muster-master (lashkarnivis) and the mustawfi, who was the head of the financial administration. His wazir, Hâjji Ibrahim, had served the Zands before

/1 Sec further A. K. S. Lambton, 'Quis custodiet custodes ? Some reflections on the Persian theory of government', in Studia Islamica, V (1956), 125-48; VI (1956), 125-46.

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the Qajars. During the reign of Fath `Ali the administration was expanded. The chief minister was known as the sadr-i a`zam. After him the three most important officials were the mustawfi al-mamâlik, the wazir-i lashkar, and the munshi al-mamâlik. The first had under him mustawfis for each province or group of provinces, whose duty it was to prepare the revenue assessment of the province or provinces under their charge, pass the accounts of the province, and verify and sanction drafts on the provincial revenue; the second was the chief muster-master, or minister of war, though his functions were mainly administrative and bureaucratic; he was not concerned with policy. The third was a kind of chief secretary. There were a host of other officials belonging to the court and to the central and local administration. Some officials, especially local officials, were paid by dues ; the high officials of the state, however, were mainly paid by drafts on the revenue.

The members of the bureaucracy at the beginning of the period held an inferior position in society to the tribal leaders and the landowning classes, who regarded them with slight contempt. They were often men of education and polish; and through them and their class the tradition of administration had been handed down over the centuries. Unlike the tribal leaders, they seldom practised martial exercises. As the administration became more complicated, the status of the higher ranks of the bureaucracy rose relative to the rest of society; and the distinction between the tribal and landowning classes on the one hand and the bureaucracy on the other became less sharp. Many members of the bureaucracy became large landowners themselves.

The high offices of state usually went to the great families, first among whom was the Qajar, and after them the foremost tribal families, and families who drew their power from their landed estates. Nepotism was marked; and a strong hereditary tendency, especially in the office of mustawfi (because of the skill and training required for this office), was to be seen. It was not, however, impossible, though it was difficult, for an able man irrespective of birth to obtain high office, and thus wealth. The perquisites of office were great; but so also were its dangers. A fall from favour was often followed by mulcting, exile, and sometimes death. Power which was measured by wealth gave security and so there was a general tendency to seek to accumulate wealth. This was expended by its holders to defend their interests; they also used it to enable them to live on a grand scale, both because open-handedness and hospitality were among the prized virtues of society, and because in this way they

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could attract clients, which meant an increase of power. Moreover, because of the fundamental insecurity of society, there was a tendency for the weak to attach themselves to some patron. The obligation to protect a dependant was generally acknowledged; and since an insult to a dependant was regarded as tantamount to an insult to his protector, attachment to the train of a powerful man was a way of achieving some degree of security.

Customary law was administered in the capital by the shah, and in the provinces by the provincial governor. Cases concerning the conduct of ministers or high officials, corruption or treason were judged by the shah in person. Local offences in the towns and bazaars came under the dârûgha, who was a kind of police officer. Matters of personal law were referred to the qâdi's court.

Besides the tribal leaders, the landowners and high military and civil officials, there were two other groups which played an important role in society : the religious classes and the merchants. The most important religious dignitaries were the mujtahids, whose studies and eminence were such as to permit them to give decisions in religious matters. They enjoyed a position of respect and in some measure provided a sanctuary for the oppressed. Appeals through a mujtahid to the shah or a provincial governor seldom went unheard. There was a head of the local religious establishment (shaykh al-Islam) and a leader of congregational prayer (imam jum`a) in the large cities ; they were nominated by the shah, and like the qâdis and many of the `ulamâ', received stipends from the shah, which limited their independence. There was a strong hereditary tendency in the religious offices and also some movement from the religious classes into the bureaucracy.

The merchants, in the absence of banks, played an important part in the provision and transmission of funds. They provided the liquid funds without which the ruling classes could not have lived as they did. The two were often in actual partnership. A provincial governor sometimes had to find a merchant to guarantee his remission of the provincial revenue to the central government. By marriage alliances, the acquisition of land and government service, the large merchants sometimes managed to become assimilated to the ruling classes. The bazaar merchants tended to be closely allied to the religious classes and it was a familiar phenomenon for the bazaar, often at the instigation of the `ulamâ', to close in protest at some action of the government.

The cities, on the whole, tended to be isolated from each other; and

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each to have its own particular ethos. Such contact as existed was mainly through the religious and merchant classes, who, together with the bureaucracy and the educated classes in general, felt themselves to belong to a common civilization expressed in terms of Perso-Islamic culture. But, although this gave a certain underlying unity and stability to society, it would be an exaggeration to claim that these various classes consciously or actively directed or controlled political events.

There was often a strong corporate sense among the craft guilds in the large cities and sometimes among the inhabitants of the different quarters. Factional strife was common. In some cities such as Isfahan, Yazd and Shiraz there were from time to time popular outbreaks against the extortion and oppression of the governors. But they were seldom sustained or organized.

Lastly there was the majority of the population formed by the peasants whose function was to pay taxes and to provide recruits for the army, and who had little or no influence on the course of political events. Their only remedy in the event of exploitation was flight or emigration.

The general tendency of Islamic political and religious thought on the whole made for conservatism. Intellectual effort was directed to an ever more perfect restatement of the familiar. This is clearly to be seen in politics, art, and literature. The whole movement of reform and change which had begun in western Europe and led to great technological advances was alien to the concepts and traditions of thought and government which prevailed in nineteenth-century Persia.⁹⁴

The rule of the shah was absolute. There was, however, no sound financial and military basis to his power : the weaknesses of the kingdom were manifold. The position of the ruling classes was fundamentally insecure : the power they exercised was either delegated by the shah and could thus be revoked at will and without cause, or was usurped. In general, the exercise of power by a minister was regarded with jealousy both by the shah and by other members of the ruling classes. Intrigue and insecurity prevailed on all sides. The balance between order and disorder was precarious. Rumours of wars, a defeat suffered in war by the government, or the death of the shah at once created uncertainty and fear in the big cities, and in the countryside any weakening of the government was likely to be followed by raiding by tribal groups and an interruption of travel and commerce.

It was partly these weaknesses which led to Persia's great dependence

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on Britain and Russia in the new circumstances of the nineteenth century when, because of her proximity to Georgia on the one hand and India on the other, she was drawn into the Eastern Question, and her relations with Europe assumed an importance and character different from her relations with her Asian neighbours.

Persia was separated from the Ottoman empire and Afghanistan by religious differences : she was Shi'i and they were Sunni, which prevented any rapprochement or common front. The issues between them were seen largely in terms of Shi i-Sunni strife. The war with the Ottomans was not renewed on the scale of Safavid times but there were frequent frontier wars and skirmishes accompanied by bitter sectarian hostility. The aims of both sides were, however, limited, and there was no real fear of a complete conquest or domination of the one by the other. The territory in dispute was frontier territory, notably Kurdistan, which had never been fully integrated into either empire. The memory of Safavid rule over Herat, and the brief period when Nadir Shah had regained possession of that city, remained, and led to several attempts to reestablish Persian rule. Perso-Turkish and Perso-Afghan relations were in due course also subordinated to Persia's relations with Russia and Great Britain. The intrusion of these two powers was accompanied by new techniques, new ideas, and an overwhelming power. It provoked religious hostility and eventually nationalism, which relations with the Ottomans had done only on the limited basis of Shi`i-Sunni strife.

British interest in Persia was dictated by her Indian commitments, and the policy she adopted towards Persia was directed to countering the actual and potential threats to India, which she believed to come at different times from Afghanistan, Napoleonic France and Russia. Her commercial interests played a minor role. In the years following the fall of the Safavids, trade with Persia, as stated above, declined. By the close of the eighteenth century, trade between the Persian Gulf and India was once more increasing, but had not regained its former importance. About 1830, the Trebizond-Tabriz route was opened, and by 1836 there had been some increase in trade, but it was still comparatively unimportant and there was difficulty in obtaining a suitable return in Persian goods. During the second half of the nineteenth century the volume of trade grew, and there was some investment by private companies in Persia, but trade considerations on the whole remained subordinate to political ones.

The basic assumption on which British policy rested was that it was in

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Britain's interest, in the light of the defence of India, to preserve an independent Persia. The policy which Britain adopted in Persia to defend her Indian interests varied with the circumstances of the time, but the aim in all cases was the same. Wellington, in a letter to Canning dated 21 November 1826, written when Persia was at war with Russia, wrote, `’We have a real interest in the preservation of the independence and integrity of the Persian monarchy.'/1 Rather less than a hundred years later Sir Arthur Hardinge in 1905 wrote that the maintenance of the integrity and independence of Persia was the main object of British diplomacy in Tehran./2 Broadly speaking, therefore, British policy was directed to strengthening the government of Persia, and favourable to internal reform, since it was hoped that this would contribute to the maintenance of Persian independence.

Russia was interested in Persia as a possible route to India and the Persian Gulf, and as an area in which, or from which, she could put pressure on Britain. She had no interest in a strong and independent Persia. Consequently she opposed Persian reform. The Russian threat to Persian independence in the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries was persistent.

Militarily, the Russian and British positions in Persia were not comparable and the dilemma facing Britain was to avoid on the one hand a policy which would provoke a collision with Russia in circumstances which would inevitably be unfavourable and which would, therefore, hasten the coming of Persia under Russian domination, and, on the other, inaction which would almost certainly lead to Persia's complete submission to Russia. British statesmen did not want a common frontier with Russia and did not, therefore, want to exercise a protectorate, veiled or otherwise, in Persia; and, beginning in the reign of Fath `Ali Shah, there were repeated efforts by Britain to achieve an agreement with Russia on the preservation of the independence and integrity of Persia.

Both Russia and Britain, because of Persian maladministration, internal disorders, and financial weakness, intervened in Persian internal affairs, though their motives were different. Neither could contemplate with equanimity the prospect of civil war in Persia : Britain could not afford to see the wall `and or another Persian prince riding down to Tehran supported by Russian troops and the establishment of a puppet government,

/1 Quoted by J. W. Kaye, in Life and Correspondence of Major-General Sir John Malcolm, G.C.B. (London, 1856), ii, 453.

/2 British Documents on the Origins of the War 1898-1914, iv, 375.

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since it was believed that this would have meant the establishment of Russia on the frontiers of India; while Russia, though prepared to go to all lengths short of war to bring Persia under her control, also could not afford civil war for fear that this might lead to a British occupation of southern Persia which would block her eventual advance to the Indian Ocean.

British and Russian policy towards Persia was thus dictated, not by Persian considerations, but by their relations with each other; and the effect of their presence was to create a division between those who looked to Russia and those who looked to Britain. It also engendered feelings of resentment and humiliation in the Persian people. By hastening the breakdown of the traditional institutions of society, and by contributing to the spread of westernization, it ultimately led to the constitutional revolution of 1905-6, as a result of which Persia adopted, at least formally, parliamentary government. This was not an evolutionary process, but rather a break with the past.

In spite of the difference in the policy of the two powers towards Persia—a difference which many Persian statesmen recognized—Persia nevertheless felt herself threatened by both. Although she feared the military advance of Russia, she also feared the extension of British dominion over southern Persia by means of trade, if not by force of arms. The various occasions when discussions took place for the cession of Kharg (Karrack) or some other island in the Persian Gulf, lent colour to the suspicions of British intentions. Britain had in fact no wish to occupy southern Persia, but the threat to do so was her ultimate sanction against both Persia and Russia; and this was the main reason why Persia feared and resented British influence. The fact that on two occasions in the nineteenth century a military expedition was despatched to the Gulf to counter a Persian attack on Herat gave point to Persian fears. British policy towards Afghanistan, where Persia had irredentist designs, also brought Persia and Britain into conflict.

During the early years of the nineteenth century, Persia was courted by both France and Britain; and Fath `Ali Shah hoped to recover Persian territories lost to Russia by means of an alliance with one or other of them. France for her part used Persia at different periods as a means of embarrassing Russia and furthering her plans against England, while the latter hoped by an alliance with Persia to raise up a barrier to the advance of France towards India. The result of these policies were the Anglo-Persian treaty of 1801 (which was never ratified) and the short-lived

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Franco-Persian treaty of Finkenstein signed in 1807. Both Fatb 'All Shah and `Abbas Mirza recognized the imperative need for modern weapons and methods to enable Persia to resist the Russian advance through Georgia and the Caucasus. It was partly this which made them turn to Britain and France. Attempts at modernization were, therefore, made in the first instance in the military field in response to external pressure.

Some knowledge of European tactics was brought to the Persian army by Russian deserters and renegades, who took refuge in Persia; but the first reorganization of the Persian army was attempted by Frenchmen who came to `Abbas Mirza's camp bringing letters from Napoleon, and by the Gardane mission which reached Persia in 1807 as a result of the treaty of Finkenstein. Their stay was brief and did not achieve lasting results. They were followed by British officers who came to Persia as a result of the treaties signed in 1809,1812 and 1814. Their sojourn also was for the most part short and their influence on the military organization transitory. Various freelance officers, Frenchmen, Italians, Russians and others, found their way to Persia from about 1814 onwards and were to be found in the armies of `Abbas Mirza and other Qajar princes. Among the earliest Persian students who came to Europe were two Persian youths sent to England in 1815 to learn military engineering and surgery respectively. Military reform, however, in the absence of administrative and financial reform proved abortive; but it was the need for military reform which first aroused interest in European civilization and stimulated enquiry into modern scientific knowledge.

Hostilities with Russia in the Caucasus, which had been intermittent from about 1805, were resumed in 1811 ; and from this time onwards the Perso-Russian wars and their results dominated the reign of Fath `All Shah. In February 1812 the Persian army defeated the Russians at Qarâbagh. Russian forces were reinforced, crossed the Aras river, and defeated the Persians at Aslandûz (31 October/ 1 November). Hostilities continued intermittently for nearly a year. On 24 September 1813 a preliminary treaty was signed at Gulistan, by which Persia ceded to Russia the provinces of Georgia, Darband, Baku, Shirvan, Shaki, Ganja, Qarâbâgh, Mughan and part of Talish, and agreed thenceforth not to maintain a navy on the Caspian Sea. Russia agreed to aid `Abbas Mirza, the wali `and, to secure his succession to the Persian throne.

The Russian victories, together with the fact that `Abbas Mirza might one day owe the crown of Persia to Russian assistance, and the need for

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courting Russian favour with a view to the adjustment of the frontier, contributed to the establishment of Russian influence at Tabriz. The Persians, although they had experienced the power of Russian arms, were not yet fully convinced of the impossibility of defeating Russia. Although disappointed in the lack of support received from Britain in the Russian war and the British government's wish to limit its interests in Persia, the Persian government was seized of the importance of its connexion with the courts of St James and St Petersburg and sought to use their mutual jealousy and fear to strengthen its own position. Fath `Ali himself showed an astonishing confidence in, and attachment to, the British connexion, as well as tenacity in resisting Russian demands.

The Russian war had, however, considerably depleted the resources of the government and the defeat suffered by Persian arms at the hands of the Russians had an adverse effect on internal security. A number of disorders broke out; and an Afghan fomented a rebellion in Khurasan in 1813. This was put down and Herat taken, but it was not held. There were also repeated disorders on the Turkish frontier but war did not actually break out until 1821. It lasted until 1823 when it was concluded by the treaty of Erzurum.

Neither Russia nor Persia had intended the treaty of Gulistan to be permanent. The lack of precision in its wording over the demarcation of the frontier gave rise to repeated disputes. It was largely tribal territory, the inhabitants of which were accustomed to move freely across the ill-defined frontiers. By nature they were little disposed to submit to a central authority, and the maladministration and extortion of both the Russian and the Persian authorities heightened their reluctance. Eventually the governor-general of Georgia occupied Gokcheh, the principal disputed district, in 1825 with a military force. The war was resumed on 2 August 18 26.

Persia gained considerable initial success, recovering most of the territories ceded by the treaty of Gulistan. The Russian forces were then reinforced and inflicted a series of severe defeats on the Persian army. Abortive negotiations for peace took place. The war was resumed in the spring of 1827. The Russians advanced rapidly. By October the situation of the Persian army was desperate. Tabriz fell and various discontented leaders in Azarbayjan went over to the Russians. Negotiations for peace began in November and a treaty was signed on 21 February 1828 at Turkomanchay. By it Erivan and Nakhchivan were ceded to Russia and the cessions of territory made earlier by the treaty of

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Gulistân were confirmed. The shah agreed to pay an indemnity of 30 million silver roubles. Russia received the exclusive right to appoint consuls wherever the good of commerce required. The tsar engaged to recognize `Abbas Mirza as wall `and, and to consider him as the legitimate sovereign of Persia from the moment of his accession to the throne.

By a commercial treaty concluded on the same date it was laid down that Russian traders should enjoy in Persia all the privileges accorded to the subjects of the most favoured nation; goods passing from one country to the other were to be subject to a sole duty of five per cent. Extra-territorial privileges were granted to Russian subjects, which were in due course claimed by other foreign states for their nationals also. This agreement set the pattern for Persia's foreign trade, though it was not until the second half of the century that Russia dominated Persian trade. It also regulated the position of foreign merchants, and because of the protection which their diplomatic missions were able to give them, placed them on the whole in a favourable position vis-â-vis Persian merchants.

The treaty of Turkomanchay marked a major change in Persia's position towards Russia, and also in the position of Britain and Russia in Persia. Militarily Russia was unassailable. Under the treaty of 1814 Britain was bound to come to Persia's aid if she was attacked by a European power. Aid had not in fact been provided in 1826-7 on the alleged grounds that Persia had been the aggressor (though the documents do not bear this out), and after the war this obligation was cancelled. These circumstances suggested to Persia that Britain had disinterested herself in the fate of Persia, and when Persian appeals for the substitution of some guarantee or declaration of support for Persia's independence were not complied with, Persia fell increasingly under Russian influence.

Fath `Ali Shah had no wish to place himself in this position. But his resources had been wasted by the Russian wars, campaigns against the repeated inroads of the Özbegs and Turcomans, and internal rebellions. He could not rely on the support of the mass of the people, who, exposed to the arbitrary exactions of the government and its subordinate authorities, regarded the threat of foreign invasions with indifference. They could, it is true, be stirred, as they were when the religious leaders called for a jihâd, and forced Fath `Ali Shah to reopen the Russian war in 1826, and again when they were roused against the Russian envoy

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Grebayedov, who had come to Tehran in 1828 to clear up various differences arising out of the execution of the treaty of Turkomanchay and was killed in a sudden ebullition of popular frenzy in 1829. But these outbreaks were fleeting; and without substantial measures of military and administrative reform, which pre-supposed a thorough-going reform of the tax administration, there was no possibility of the Persian government gaining sustained and popular support, which would have enabled it to resist Russian encroachments. But reform was contrary to the whole outlook of society and the traditions of government. Further, the growing avarice of Fath `Ali Shah made him increasingly reluctant to expend those resources which remained to him on putting his army in better shape.

`Abbas Mirza, too, had no wish to give up his independence, but the instability of his temperament prevented him adopting an effective policy to counter Russian influence, and above all the article in the treaty of Turkomânchây guaranteeing his accession to the throne made him susceptible to Russian pressure. And as long as the indemnity due to Russia under the treaty was not fully paid Russia had a ready means of exerting pressure. In the prevailing uncertainty the ruling classes began to turn increasingly to Russia, some out of ambition and in the hope of furthering their own particular schemes, and others as an insurance.

The treasury was almost empty; and the army in a state of disorganization. The authority of the central government was disputed in the south and in Khurasan; and local rebellions had broken out in Yazd and Kirman. These were put down by `Abbas Mirza in 1830-1. After his return to Tehran he set out for Khurasan in November 1831 with the avowed intention of restoring the authority of the shah up to the Oxus. Having taken Khabûshan and Sarakhs, he asked Fath `Ali Shah for reinforcements to attack Herat, then under Kamran Mirza, the son of Mahmûd Shah. Fath `Ali agreed, but ordered `Abbas Mirza to return to Tehran and to leave his son, Muhammad Mirzâ, in command of the Herat force. In 1833 `Abbas Mirza again set out for Herat but died en route at Mashhad. Muhammad Mirzâ thereupon raised the siege of Herat and returned to Tehran. He was given his father's governments and military commands and set off for Azarbayjan. The Persian expedition against Herat aroused alarm in India. In an effort to regain influence at the Persian court, a supply of arms and a detachment of officers were sent from India. This attempt to reorganize the Persian army was even

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less successful than the first attempt, and the officers were withdrawn in 1836.

The death of `Abbas Mirza led to an important exchange of notes between the British and Russian governments which illustrates the weakness of Persia's position and the anxiety of Britain to prevent the outbreak of civil war and to secure agreement with Russia for the preservation of Persian independence. Fath `Ali Shah feared that a declaration of Muhammad Mirza as his successor would be the sign for civil war between his sons and other claimants to the throne. Azarbayjan had suffered from maladministration during the preceding four years and the treasury was empty; the pay of the army was four years in arrears; the Bakhtiyaris in the south were in open rebellion; the Mamassanis were plundering Fars; and the governor of Kirmanshah was threatening to seize Sulaymaniyya, which was likely to lead to war with Turkey. Russia, meanwhile, declared her readiness to acknowledge Muhammad Mirza, and made peremptory demands for the payment of the sum still due by way of indemnity, threatening to occupy Gilan if payment were delayed. On 20 June 1834 Muhammad Mirza was nominated wali and. An exchange of notes then took place between the British and Russian governments expressing their mutual desire to act together over the matter of the succession of Muhammad Mirza and in the maintenance not only of the internal tranquillity of Persia but also of her independence and integrity./1

Fath `Ali Shah died on 23 October 1834. The succession of Muhammad Mirza was immediately disputed by various Qajar princes, notably Husayn `Ali Mirza, governor of Fars. Muhammad Mirzâ was in Tabriz without the means of marching to the capital to assert his claim to the throne. His troops were almost in a state of mutiny for want of food, clothing and pay. The Russians offered troops, officers and stores to any amount required to put him on the throne. The British envoy meanwhile acted with vigour and came forward with the means to induce the troops to march; and on 10 November the army set out for the capital. On 16 November Muhammad Mirza left Tabriz accompanied by the British and Russian envoys (who, since Fath `Ali had entrusted the conduct of his foreign relations to `Abbas Mirza in 1810, normally resided at the court of the wali ‘ahd). Tehran was taken in

/1 The British government extracted a reiteration of this agreement with regard to Persian independence from the Russian government in 1838, 1865, 1873, 1874, and 1888; but it is questionable whether the Russians ever felt these pledges binding (see R. L. Greaves, Persia and the defence of India, 1884-1892 (London, 1959), 102).

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December and an expedition sent to the south, which defeated the attempt of Husayn 'All Mirza to seize the throne. The danger of the disintegration of the Persian monarchy was thus averted, but its weakness had been clearly revealed.

The early years of the reign of Muhammad Shah (1834-48) were marked by the growing weight of the Russian presence and a fear of Russia. There were renewed efforts by Britain to recover her position at the Persian court, but there was also a reluctance to give any specific undertaking to preserve Persian independence. This made Persia alarmed and suspicious, although there was at the same time another and conflicting trend, namely the belief that Britain's interests were so closely bound up with the existence of Persia as a barrier to India that Britain would in the last instance support Persia at whatever cost. The general effect was to lessen the urgency felt by the Persian government to strengthen its own resources by internal reform, or to resist Russian influence.

By 1835 Russia was showing a growing interest in the eastern shores of the Caspian Sea. The Persian government also, convinced at last that it could not recover the territories lost in the Russian wars, began to look again to the east. Muhammad Shah, in spite of the disorganization of his army, the almost complete paralysis of the financial administration and the troubles prevailing in the kingdom—the Balûchis were raiding Kirman, the Turcomans were making inroads into Khurasan, the Kurds were committing disorders in Azarbayjan, and disturbances had occurred in Isfahan in the autumn of 1835—determined to march to the east, put down the Turcomans, and resume operations against Herat; and in this he was encouraged by the Russian envoy.

It was, in fact, essential for Persia to assert her control over the Turcomans : if she failed to do so Russia would sooner or later take over effective control of the Turcoman steppe, as she later did. With regard to Herat there were Persian grievances : various undertakings given by the ruler of Herat, during the reign of Fath `Ali Shah, had not been fulfilled, and provocation had been offered by raiding-parties, who had captured Persian subjects and sold them into slavery.

Britain, because of growing Russian ascendancy over Persia, had meanwhile begun to reconsider her policy towards Afghanistan in relation to Persia and the defence of India. Accordingly she warned Persia that any schemes for extended conquest in Afghanistan would be looked upon with great dissatisfaction. A Persian attack on Herat

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eventually led to the withdrawal of the British mission in 1837 and the despatch of a small expedition to Kharg island, which forced the Persian army to retire from Herat.

Internal conditions were adversely affected by the Herat expedition, as they had been in the Russian wars. In 1839 there were renewed outbreaks of disorder in Isfahan and disturbances in Shiraz, Kirmanshah, Qumm and other towns. The levy of troops in Azarbayjan was also proving difficult and the financial situation was critical. There were an enormous number of government bills in the hands of the people which had not been paid. Army pay was, as usual, in arrears. Provincial revenues failed to come in. Bribery was widespread, and the purchase of offices was growing. Turco-Persian relations had also deteriorated. News of British reverses in Afghanistan in 1841, however, temporarily excited Persian hopes of renewed operations against Herat. These proved short-lived, partly because Persian appeals to Russia on this occasion received no response—there had been as a result of events in Europe an improvement in Anglo-Russian relations—and the British mission returned in October 1841.

Internal conditions continued to be disturbed; and because of the part played by Britain and Russia together in securing the accession of Muhammad Mirza, the tendency to blame the powers (and in particular Britain) for the woes of the country, which was to bedevil Persian political life for many years to come, first became noticeable. By this time a new weakness was attacking the Persian state : the dichotomy between the north and the south. The fact that Azarbayjan was normally the seat of the wali and and that when Muhammad Shah came to Tehran he was accompanied by a large number of Azarbayjani Turks, had already created a division between the Turkish and Persian elements of the population. This was now reinforced by Anglo-Russian rivalry, and by the fact that it had become clear that the north must be predominantly the sphere of Russian influence and the south of British. There was also a recurrent fear on the part of the Persian government that some Persian prince in exile—of whom, from the time of the accession of Muhammad Shah onwards, there were several—might return with the support of one or other of the powers and foment insurrection, or even set up a state in the north or the south, dominated by Russia or Britain respectively.

The position of the north and the south was not by any means equal. The most productive provinces were in the north, where was also the heaviest concentration of population; and Tabriz had by this time

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become the first commercial city of Persia. In the north Russia could bring military pressure to bear at any moment. Also the fear that the inhabitants might seek refuge in Russia acted in some measure as a restraint on the government in the northern provinces. Southern Persia, on the other hand, had not fully recovered from the ruin and decay brought by the disorders between the fall of the Safavids and the rise of the Qâjârs, and was subject to perennial disorders and misgovernment.

Persia's sensitiveness to intervention by the great powers was shown by the unfounded attribution of the revolt of Aqa Khan Mahallati in Kirmân to British intervention. He achieved considerable success in the spring of 1842 but was eventually defeated and retired to India. This episode, however, continued to trouble Anglo-Persian relations throughout the latter years of Muhammad Shah's reign.

The position of Persia vis-à-vis Russia and Britain is also illustrated by the question of protection, which, bound up with the question of asylum (bast), became a major cause of dispute during the reign of Muhammad Shah. Originally the two issues were independent. In the nineteenth century, because of the venality of the administration of justice, asylum was increasingly used to protest against injustice or supposed injustice. The frequency with which recourse was had to asylum from about the middle of the century onwards was a measure of the breakdown which was taking place, partly as the result of the intrusion of European influence, and partly because of the increasing weight of the despotism arising from the improved techniques of government which were not accompanied by any system of checks and controls. Asylum was almost the only refuge against the arbitrary exercise of power by the government. Muhammad Shah in 1843 sought, without success, to limit or abolish the practice of sanctuary. The usual places in which sanctuary was taken were mosques and shrines, the houses of religious dignitaries, and the royal stables. By 1850 a struggle had developed between the religious classes and the government relative to the right of asylum, and in 1858 Nasir al-Din Shah tried to abolish the practice. This attempt also failed.

With the establishment of foreign missions in Persia, a new aspect was given to asylum, which was also sought in their premises, and thus became associated with protection. It was not normally granted to common malefactors, but only to political figures who had fallen into disfavour and whose lives were in danger. Such a practice was detrimental to the independence of the Persian government; but experience

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had shown that the individual could place little reliance on a safe conduct granted him by his own government, and so, because of the weight of the British and Russian presence, the tendency grew to seek the protection of one or other mission, or both. British officials sought to limit its use, but were not entirely successful; and with the growing weakness of the Persian government vis-â-vis the two powers, the venality of the administration and increasing Russian intervention, there were numerous bitter exchanges over the exercise of protection.

One of the most notorious cases was that of Bahman Mirza, a fairly popular and successful governor of Azarbayjan, who, having fallen foul of the first minister, Hajji Mirza Aqasi (who dominated Muhammad Shah in the latter years of his reign, and whose exercise of power was alleged to be extremely venal), took sanctuary in the Russian mission in March 1848, and was subsequently given asylum in Russia. This event caused a great sensation in Persia and apprehension lest Bahman Mirza should, with Russian support, disturb the tranquillity of Azarbâyjân; or lest future disorders might give Russia an excuse for interference, and even lead her to seize the province to convert it into an independent principality ruled by Bahman Mirza under her protection.

By 1844 the practice of selling government offices had become more widespread. This was a sign of the complete financial breakdown of the state, comparable to that which had prevailed in Buyid times prior to the emergence of the land-assignment (iqta') as the dominant political and economic institution of the state; but on this occasion the new system which was eventually to emerge was a centralized government based on the model of western Europe. The governors had to reimburse themselves for the outlay they had made to gain their governments by impositions upon the local population, and with as little delay as possible since they were never sure of retaining their appointments. Deputations would come to the court, and the governor would sometimes be sacrificed to appease their complaints. Another would then be found who would buy his office in the same way, and the only advantage to the local people would be if they obtained a more merciful and lenient governor. Salaries were largely paid by assignments on the revenue, and the assignees, like the governors, and for the same reasons, were bent on obtaining as much as they could in the shortest possible time. By 1846 scarcely any provincial revenue was reaching Tehran. Payments by the government were made almost entirely in the form of bills, which were

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issued for an amount far in excess of the revenue. Consequently their value was nominal.

Various chiefs in Mazandarân were disaffected. Asaf al-Dawla, the governor of Khurâsân, had been dismissed and gone into exile in Turkey; his son, Sâlar al-Dawla, who had remained in the province, was in open rebellion. Evidence of a rather different kind of unrest was provided by the disorders committed by the followers of Sayyid `Ali Muhammad, who was known as the Bab, in different parts of Persia in 1848. He had declared himself in 1844 to be the long-awaited mahdi. Originally he was a disciple of Sayyid Kâzim of Rasht, the leader of the Shaykhis, an extreme Shi’i sect, who held the doctrine that there must exist at all times an intermediary between the twelfth Imam and his followers. The prototype of this intermediary was to be found in the four successive babs, or gates, through whom the twelfth Imam, during the period of his minor occultation, held communication with his partisans. The Bâbis, like the Ismâ`ilis, looked for the establishment of the kingdom of God upon earth, and like them had messianic and esoteric tendencies. The movement was regarded by the religious class with horror, and by the government as a threat to stability. The Bâb was arrested in 1847 and held in confinement.

Muhammad Shah died on 4 September 1848. Nâsir al-Din, the wali `ahd, who had become governor of Azarbâyjân after the fall of Bahman Mirza, had no money in his treasury to enable him to march on Tehran to establish his claim to the throne. The merchant community having been persuaded to make the necessary funds available, he arrived in Tehran on 20 October. Although he succeeded to the throne without actual fighting, the situation was far from promising. The treasury was empty, and revolts had broken out in Isfahan, Kirmân and Khurâsân. There were also serious risings by the Bâbis. The first was in Mâzandarân and lasted from December 1848 to July 1849. It was followed by a second in Zanjan (May—December 1850), and a third in Nayriz, during which the Bâb was brought out of prison and publicly executed.

During the long reign of Nâsir al-Din (1848-96) new trends began to emerge and new influences to be felt. The first attempt at change was again made in the military field. Nâsir al-Din's first minister, Mirzâ Taqi Khan, entitled the Amir Nizam, who had been wazir of Azarbâyjân since 1843, began to reorganize the army. He had been to Russia with the mission in 1830, which was sent to apologize for the murder of Grebayedov, and as Persian representative on the Turco-Persian frontier com-

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mission during the reign of Muhammad Shah had seen the introduction of the Tanzimat in the Ottoman empire. Existing battalions were brought up to strength and new battalions were formed. The number of troops permanently stationed in Tehran and Tabriz was increased. A major change was made in the manner of recruitment. Each town or village was required (unless exempted for some reason) to provide as part of its tax quota a number of soldiers, or in some cases a sum equivalent to the wages of so many soldiers. The task of the provincial governor and the local landowner was merely to expedite their despatch to the capital or the provincial capital. Military service thus became a charge on the land and not upon the holder of the land; and the army was no longer composed mainly of contingents furnished by the local governors and landowners, whose loyalty was to their own commanders and not to the state. In practice, however, the main change in the first instance was that the burden upon the peasantry was further increased by constant demands for recruits.

In 1851 a new college was opened, the Dar al-Funün, the purpose of which was to provide officers for the new army and officials for the new bureaucracy. Instructors were obtained from Europe. The college was, as it turned out, not of great use to the army since few of its pupils obtained employment in the army, but it played an important part in the general enlightenment, turning out hundreds of young men who had become possessed of some training in military and other modern sciences.

The Amir Nizam, who succeeded for a brief period in concentrating great power in his own hands, made vigorous efforts to abolish some of the abuses in the financial administration. Pensions and salaries were in some cases withdrawn, in others reduced. This led to great dissatisfaction among the upper and religious classes, especially in Azarbâyjan. The small allowances which had been given to the mullas and sayyids in the villages were also withdrawn. This too led to discontent.

The war against rebels in Khurâsân and the raiding of the caravan-routes in the south was meanwhile seriously affecting trade, and there were numerous bankruptcies among the mercantile community in Azarbâyjân in 1850. Crop-failures in three successive years in parts of the province further aggravated the situation and there was a large exodus from Urümiyya to Tiflis. The Shaqaqi Kurds were in open rebellion, and had not paid taxes for two years.

The concentration of power in the hands of the Amir Nizam and

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his efforts at financial reform gave rise to much opposition and eventually the shah lent his support to the intrigues against his minister, who was dismissed and murdered in 1851. The energies of his successor, Mirza Aqa Khan Ntüri, were largely occupied in defeating the machinations of numerous rivals and in a contest with the shah for the sole exercise of power.

Efforts at financial reform having proved abortive, misgovernment continued, and, as disorders in the provinces spread, the unpopularity of the government grew. One of the factors contributing to this was the practice of transacting government business through the agency of officials known as muhassils. This was not new, but the extent to which muhassils were being used was almost reminiscent of the government of the Il-Khans before the reforms of Ghazan. They were sent on every conceivable occasion for the execution of government orders, for the collection of taxes, the summoning of recruits, the recovery of debts and the collection of fines. Their functions were often exercised with the utmost brutality and their extortions were heavy. There was no security of life or property, and the peasants in particular were subjected to grinding tyranny.

The Babis, after the suppression of the revolts at the beginning of the reign of Nasir al-Din, had been quiet for a period, but in 1852 three of them made an attempt on the life of the shah. The severity with which the movement was put down after this appears to have destroyed its militancy, so that it subsequently existed mainly as a religious movement. It was subject to schism within its own ranks : in 1863 Mirza Husayn `Ali Baha' Allah declared himself to be the new leader manifested by God, and his followers came to be known as Baha'is. They rapidly outnumbered the Babis.

All hope had meanwhile not been given up of reincorporating Herat into the Persian dominions. After the death of its de facto ruler in 1851, an expedition was sent nominally to reduce the Turcomans, but in reality with the intention of occupying Herat. In October 1852, in spite of warnings by the British envoy that the British government could not be indifferent to a Persian occupation of Herat, Persian forces occupied the city. In January 1853, however, an engagement was signed by the Persian government to abstain from interference in the affairs of Herat and the Persian forces withdrew.

Shortly afterwards the Persian government undertook at the invitation of Russia to prepare military expeditions at Tabriz and Kirman-

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shah to move against the Ottomans. These expeditions came to nothing, and when Britain declared war on Russia in 1854, there was a brief revival in Persia of the hope that Britain would turn to Persia and help her to regain the territories lost to Russia, and that an Anglo-Persian force would be thrown into the Caucasus to co-operate with Shamil in Daghistan. No overtures were in fact made to Persia, and she remained neutral. Britain's alliance with the Ottoman empire did little to improve her relations with Persia. The fact that Britain was strengthening her relations with Afghanistan, Persia's other Sunni neighbour, and the signature of the treaty of Peshawar on 3o March 1855 with Dost Muhammad Khan also rankled with Persia, both because of the intention to strengthen Persia's eastern neighbour, and the mistrust which it indicated of Persian policy.

There had been various differences with Britain since the resumption of relations in 1841, and a certain coolness and misunderstanding. This, coupled with the internecine strife which prevailed in Afghanistan, and the opinion held by some Persian officials that the population of India would rise against the British if a Persian army appeared at Jalalabad, encouraged the Persian government to suppose that the time was ripe to reincorporate Herat into Persian dominions. The disputes with Britain culminated in 1856, and when Nasir al-Din Shah ordered the governor of Khurasan to march on Herat and occupy it, Britain declared war on Persia. A force was despatched to southern Persia. After a brief campaign, a treaty of peace was signed in Paris on 4 March 1857.

The war had been unpopular : compulsory levies had been made on the towns to provide for the expenses of the army, and in some cases resisted. Appeals by the mujtahids for a jihad for the most part went unheard. Serious disorders took place in Tabriz in 1857, and there were threats by the people that they would emigrate to Russia and return with Bahman Mirza at their head. Trade was interrupted; prices rose; the roads were infested with robbers ; and disorders were of almost daily occurrence in Tabriz and some of the other big towns.

Perhaps the most important result of the war was to strengthen the opinion, which was beginning to gain ground in some circles, that the main reason for the superior power of western European nations was their form of government. There had been by this time a great increase in contact with Europe through diplomacy, trade, travel and education, and for the first time thought began to be given not merely to the reform of abuses but to a reform of the actual system of government.

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Malkam Khan Nazim al-Dawla, a Persian Armenian educated in Paris, who later became Persian minister in London, drew attention in an essay written probably between 1858 and 1860, to the internal woes of Persia, the possible threat of encroachments by St Petersburg and Calcutta, and the technical advances being made in Europe, and urged administrative reform. In 1858 Nasir al-Din decided to abolish the post of sadr-i a`zam, or first minister, and to appoint a cabinet or council of ministers, each of whom would be directly responsible to him. They were not, however, given responsibility, collective or individual. Often, public business was transacted by the shah over their heads. In 1859 there was an abortive attempt to set up a council of state.

Some years later Persia was brought into direct telegraphic communication with Europe, as a link in the line connecting England with India. The first convention was signed in 1862. The opening of telegraphic communication profoundly affected internal conditions and marked an important step forward in the centralization of the government. On the one hand it enabled the government to make its control more effective in the provinces by a quicker transmission of news and orders, and on the other it brought the population into closer contact with the centre, thereby reducing the power of the local governors.

In 1871 there were further changes : a council of state composed of sixteen members was set up to carry on the affairs of government. In December of that year Mirzâ Husayn Khan Mushir al-Dawla, who had been appointed minister of war in September, was made sadr-i a`zam, the office being filled once more after some thirteen years. He began a thoroughgoing reform of the administration ; and in the spring a military council was instituted. The council of state was reorganized; and a number of ministries were set up under the presidency of the sadr-i a`zam, in December 1872. This council was probably modelled on the imperial council of Russia. It was a purely consultative body, convened sometimes to advise the shah beforehand, or more commonly to discuss the fulfilment of his orders already delivered. The shah continued to be the sole executive.

At the close of the Crimean War, foiled of her schemes in the Near East, Russia turned her attention to Central Asia. By 1863 she had subjugated the Kirghiz steppe. Tashkent fell in 1865, Khoj and (Khojent) in 1866, and Bukhara soon afterwards. In June 1866 it was announced that a secret understanding existed between Persia and Russia, by which the Russian government promised the shah that if he would not intrigue

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against Russia, she would do her utmost when she acquired the Jaxartes and Oxus valleys to enable him to obtain Herat. But when Russia landed troops at Krasnovodsk in 1869 with the intention of crossing the desert to Khiva, Persian anxiety was aroused. From Krasnovodsk the Russian forces began to exercise authority over all the country to the north of the Atrek, confining Persian jurisdiction to the south of the river. In 1873 they established a military post at Chikishlar near the mouth of the Atrek; and from then onwards they claimed the course of the Atrek to be the frontier.

It had by now become clear to Nasir al-Din and his minister, Mirza Husayn Khan, that it was from Russia that the fundamental threat to independence cam e, and that Persia could not resist the Russian advance unaided. On the other hand they did not wish to become the clients of Britain; and so they began to consider the possibility of interesting the great powers in the economic development of Persia, in the hope that they would, if they had a stake in the country, be interested in the maintenance of its independence. The difficulty was that at this time none of the great powers except Russia and Britain were interested in Persia. It was these considerations which led to the grant of a concession to a British subject, Baron Reuter, in 1872. It was extremely far-reaching, providing inter alia for railway and road construction, irrigation works and the establishment of a national bank. The Russians were furious. When the shah went to Europe the following year he found that there was much criticism of the concession, and on his return to Persia he cancelled it, under heavy pressure from the Russian government.

The fact that Nair al-Din was able to visit Europe in 1873 was a measure of the progress which had been achieved in the preceding years in establishing the control of the central government. Another important step in this respect was the organization of the Cossack Brigade. As a result of the shah's second visit to Europe in 1878 an Austrian and a Russian mission came to Persia to reorganize the cavalry. The Austrians left in 1881 but the Russian officers remained and raised the formation which came to be known as the Cossack Brigade. The first regiment was formed in 1879 and a second in 1880. Both were officered by Russians on short-term commissions. The arms and munitions of the brigade were supplied by the Russian government and the head of the brigade was under the orders of the Russian war office. The Cossack Brigade, which was the only efficient and reliable force in Persia, had a major role in maintaining

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the rule of the central government; it was later to play an important part in furthering Russian designs in Persia.

The efforts to strengthen the internal and external position of the Persian government by the introduction of changes to the forms of government, however, proved no more successful than the efforts at military reform during and after the Russian wars in the early years of the century. And the reasons were similar. The efficiency with which the orders of the government were executed was increased, but there was no change in the spirit of government, no transfer of responsibility and no involvement of the population in general in the affairs of the country. Discontent was not allayed.

The later years of Nâsir al-Din's reign were marked by increasing Russian pressure, matched by British efforts to persuade the Persian government to open up the country to trade, and to attack the corruption which was eating into the kingdom, in order to arrest the Russian advance. But these efforts were largely unavailing because Nâsir al-Din was becoming increasingly frightened of Russia, and more susceptible to Russian coercion.

In 1879, as a result of the Second Afghan War, Britain began negotiations with the shah concerning the possibility of Persia acquiring Herat and Sistân. For different reasons neither side pushed the negotiations, and they were suspended by the shah in 1880. In 1882 Russian encroachments to the east of the Caspian Sea, however, caused alarm in Persia, and when the Panjdeh crisis occurred in 1885, Nâsir al-Din asked Britain for a formal guarantee of protection against Russian aggression. The British government was not prepared to give this—there was no way in which British help could reach Persia—and so it merely urged Nâsir al-Din to improve the quality of his administration, and to establish better communications between the Persian Gulf and the north.

Russian intimidation continued, and in 1887 a secret agreement was signed by which the shah pledged himself not to give orders or permission for the construction of railways or waterways to foreign companies before consulting the Russian emperor. When in the following year a new British minister, Sir Henry Drummond Wolff, was sent to Persia, his instructions were to endeavour to preserve Persian integrity and to develop Persian resources. In pursuing these aims he sought to obtain Russian co-operation, both in the promotion of commerce and the encouragement of better government, hoping thereby to transform

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Persia into a stable buffer state. Russia, however, had no interest in such a policy and continued her intimidation.

At the beginning of 1888 the shah again negotiated with Britain for a definite pledge to resist Russia if she seized Persian territory; and in reply received an assurance of a general nature. The Russo-Persian secret agreement had not yet become public, and the advantage of railways, which would enable the Persian government to have recourse to external support in resisting attacks or pressure from the north, was again urged upon the shah.

On 22 May 1888, as a result of promptings by Wolff, Nâsir al-Din issued a decree giving security of life and property to all Persian subjects unless publicly condemned by a competent tribunal; the effect of this on the lives of the people was negligible. Wolff next turned his attention to the opening of the Kârûn river to navigation, a project which had first been promoted in 1874. On 30 October 1888 Nâsir al-Din issued a circular opening it to vessels of all nations. This news was received in Russia with fury. Throughout the negotiations the shah bargained for an assurance against Russian aggression from Britain, and received a written promise that earnest representations would be made in St Petersburg if Russia infringed Persia's sovereign rights.

Early in the following year, Baron Reuter was given permission to found a state bank, to be called the Imperial Bank of Persia, as compensation for the cancellation of his earlier concession. This, too, was opposed by Russia, but Reuter's claims were upheld by the sadr-i a'zam, Amin al-Sultan, partly because he saw the Reuter concession as a means of liberating Persia from the dictation of Russia. By March 1889, however, the shah had submitted once more to Russian pressure, and agreed to a delay of five years on all railway construction; and on 12 November 1889, as a result of further Russian threats, a Perso-Russian railway agreement was signed by which the Persian government agreed to an embargo for ten years on all railway construction. These negotiations mark a critical stage in Persia's relations with Russia and Britain. On the one hand they showed that Russia would not only not cooperate in the development of Persia but would oppose any attempt to open up the country; and on the other that Nâsir al-Din was not to be persuaded by Britain to take steps to defend his own position by developing the country.

Dissatisfaction inside Persia was meanwhile growing. In March 1890 a monopoly for the sale and export of tobacco and control over its

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production was acquired by a British subject. This became the occasion for the open expression of discontent on a wide scale. Russian hostility to the tobacco régie had been declared at the outset; and the opposition to the régie which rapidly developed was in the first instance instigated by Russia. Led by the religious classes and the merchants, it was rapidly transformed into a movement of protest against internal corruption and misgovernment on the one hand and foreign influence on the other. The motives of the religious classes, who became the leaders of the movement, were probably mixed. Some took part in the movement, because they were opposed to any attempt to open up the country, lest this should lead to a decline in their own influence over the people; others feared that Persia was falling under the influence of non-Muslims as had Egypt and India, and that the tobacco régie and the presence of Europeans working in it would lead to a weakening of Islam in Persia. The mullâs in their protests against the régie and Muslims abroad, notably Jamal al-Din al-Afghani, made much of the alleged danger to Islam; and it was probably largely the call to rally to the defence of Islam which moved the people to support the movement of protest. The merchants opposed the régie partly because they feared that their activities and profits would be curtailed.

The shah began to feel himself threatened on two sides : on the one hand by Russia who threatened intervention and on the other—and for the first time—by an internal popular movement. Disturbances spread in many of the major cities. A fatwâ was issued in the name of the chief mujtahid declaring that the use of tobacco was tantamount to war against the Imam of the Age. Smoking was abandoned in the capital and largely in the provinces also. The bazaars closed and opposition to the government grew. In December 1891, frightened by the extent of the popular movement and the possibility of Russian intervention if civil war broke out, the shah abolished the monopoly. The agitation died down immediately; but it had shown that the government could be forced by popular protest to alter its course. The payment of compensation to the concessionaires led to negotiations for a loan, an agreement for which was signed with the Imperial Bank of Persia on 14 May 1892, and secured on the receipts of the customs of the Persian Gulf.

Certain changes were meanwhile taking place in Persian society. Increased contact with Europe had begun to give rise to feelings of nationalism, although this was at first expressed in terms of Islam. The timidity of Nasir al-Din towards Russia and the intimidation of him by

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Russia were also contributory factors in the changing situation. Fear of Russia was not new : but Fath `Ali had steadfastly resisted Russian pressure; while Muhammad Shah and his minister, Hajji Mirza Aqasi, had also on various occasions shown themselves unwilling to submit. Neither had been publicly compromised by negotiations for the sale of Persian resources to foreigners, or by foreign travel. Their support for Islam and respect for the religious classes were not questioned by the population at large. This was not so with Nasir al-Din : in the early years of his reign there had been vigorous attempts to reduce the power of the religious classes. The changes in the forms of government and the increase in centralization during his reign were not accompanied by any change in the conception of power. All power was still wholly arbitrary. No potential centre of opposition could be tolerated, and so the religious classes were attacked; partly it is true, because some of them were obscurantist and opposed to change, but mainly because they were by tradition a refuge for the oppressed. Gradually the opinion spread that Persia was being threatened by foreigners, that the government was conniving at this, and that the country's weakness was due to the government's neglect of the Shari'a. Consequently the discontent against the government came to be expressed, not in terms of unorthodoxy as it had been in the past, but in terms of Islam, since the government was no longer regarded as Islamic, or as justified (even though unrighteous), because it preserved order and defended the frontiers of the country.

With the increased centralization and the growth in the strength of the regular army, although the tribal leaders and big landowners were still powerful and exercised locally many of the functions of government, they no longer dominated society in the capital as they had done at the beginning of the century. They were not greatly affected by the question of foreign monopolies or foreign intervention : in the north the Russians from time to time supported them against the central government; in the south, as long as they prevented disorder in the areas which they controlled, foreign concessionaires were prepared to treat with them. It is not without interest, in view of the dichotomy between north and south, that when eventually the constitution was attacked by Muhammad `Ali Shah in 1908-9, the tribes in Azarbayjân, broadly, favoured the despotism, while the Bakhtiyari supported the constitutional movement.

The bureaucracy continued to be drawn from much the same classes as before. It continued to serve the shah, and, because of the fundamental

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insecurity of its position, continued to show little initiative. Amin al-Sultan, like Mirza Tag' Khan and Mushir al-Dawla, attempted a policy of reform, but when his policy proved inconvenient to the shah, he was sacrificed; and at the end of his life he became a tool of the Russians, as had Hâjji Mirza Aqasi. All ministers merely held office at the whim of the shah, and were subject to dismissal and disgrace at his caprice. It was this, above all, that made Persian ministers and politicians turn to one or other of the great powers for support; though such support, if granted, merely served to perpetuate the situation they wished to avoid.

The merchants, because of the establishment of banks, were now less important in financing the government than they had been. Both they and the artisans and craftsmen, because of their alliance with the religious classes and because of foreign competition, were also becoming increasingly opposed to the government on the grounds that it was selling the country to foreigners.

There was meanwhile emerging in very general terms a demand for liberal reform, owing to a belief that the secret of Western superiority and progress, and the source of the greater material ease and security of life and property which prevailed in western Europe were to be sought in democracy. The propriety of the exercise by the shah of unfettered power was questioned; shame and disgust were felt at the corruption of the official classes; and also distress at the obscurantism and hypocrisy of the religious classes. And so gradually there came to be tentatively expressed a demand for equality before the law and a share in the government, or rather a demand to be consulted in the affairs of the country. This demand was not clearly formulated or accompanied by a definite programme. There was still no conception, except among a small minority, of a government which was not based on religion, or of two societies, one religious and the other temporal.

Although these intellectuals, for want of a better name, who tentatively put forward this demand for liberal reform were drawn from almost all classes, their background was largely that of the ruling classes. Some, such as Malkam Khan, had served the state in important positions; some of them had travelled or studied abroad; many of them belonged to the religious classes and had been influenced by modernist trends, which had reached them through contact with Muslims abroad or with their writings ; and some were merchants who had come into contact with modern thought through their commercial activities,

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especially in Istanbul, Calcutta and Baku. It was perhaps because they were drawn from a wide and varied background, and because the central body of them came from the religious classes, that they were later able, for a brief period from 1905 to 1909, to carry with them the middle and lower classes with their intuitive clinging to Shi`ism. Many of the religious classes were obscurantist, and they often made common cause with the official classes in exploiting the people, and in so far as they received stipends from the state, their independence was limited. But in spite of these factors, the religious classes enjoyed more respect than any others, and since their leaders acted as a shield for the people from the exactions of the government, it was to them that the people looked for protection and guidance; and the intuitive clinging of the people to Shi`ism made it almost inevitable that the mullas should be their natural leaders./1 Although the new movement became nationalist, its basis was thus still religious feeling. Its leaders demanded reform not revolution, and were in effect carrying out the old Muslim duty of enjoining that which is good and forbidding that which is evil. What they demanded was freedom from tyranny : their protest was against the arbitrary actions of the government, and the freedom they envisaged was seen strictly within the limits set by Islam and did not involve a revolutionary concept.

During the later years of Nasir al-Din's reign conditions further deteriorated : the government barely functioned, the administration of justice was a mockery; and the pay of the army and officials in general was in arrears. The shah, caring for nothing but money and sensuality, neglected affairs of state, which fell into the hands of corrupt officials. Public offices were put up to auction and extortion reached downwards through successive levels until eventually the poor paid the bill.

On 1 May 1896 Nâsir al-Din was assassinated by a follower of Sayyid Jamal al-Din al-Afghani. He was succeeded by his son, Muzaffar al-Din, whose reign was weaker than that of any of his predecessors. Although a rapid deterioration took place in Persia's external position, it was paradoxically partly the rival ambitions of Russia and Britain which saved the state from dissolution. Russian encroachments became more open and other governments and nationalities, attracted by a desire to share in the probable spoil, began to appear on the scene. Financial difficulties occurred almost immediately. There had been a large increase in the copper coinage during the last three or four years of Nâsir al-Din's

1 See further A. K. S. Lambton, `Persian Political Societies 1906-11 ', in St Antony's Papers, No. r6, Middle Eastern Affairs, No. 3 (London, 1963), 41-89.

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reign; this had caused much distress among the poorer classes and paralysed small trade. The withdrawal of the excess of copper coinage, which was ordered after Muzaffar al-Din's accession, was not accomplished until about 1899 and then only at considerable loss to the government. Attempts made by Nasir al-Mulk, who was appointed minister of finance in February 1898, to reorganize the finances had meanwhile met with resistance from officials, and proved abortive.

For a variety of reasons, some connected with internal conditions and others with the state of international affairs, Russian economic penetration increased at the turn of the century. An important instrument in bringing this about was the Russian Loan and Discount Bank founded in 1897, when the State Bank of St Petersburg advanced funds to buy up a bank set up by Lazar Poliakov under the concession granted some years earlier after the Imperial Bank of Persia was established.

In 1897 the Persian government had negotiated unsuccessfully in Europe for a loan, and negotiation for a British loan in the following year had also been abortive. In March 1899 the customs, upon which it was hoped to secure a foreign loan, were reorganized. Belgian officials were placed in charge of the customs at Kirmanshah and in Azarbayjan. They succeeded in increasing the customs revenue and their control was extended in the following year to the whole customs administration. On 30 January 1900 a loan from Russia was secured on the customs receipts, excepting those of Fars and the Gulf ports, a promise having been obtained by the British from the Persian government in October 1879 that the customs in southern Persia would not be placed under foreign supervision or control. Among the conditions for the loan were the stipulations that Persia might not borrow from foreign powers without consulting Russia, and that the loan contracted from the Imperial Bank of Persia in 1892 should be paid off. Further, the Persian government agreed in December 1899 during the negotiations to prolong the railway agreement for another ten years.

Muzaffar al-Din visited Europe in 1900 and 1902. The cost of these visits was met by the Russian loan of 1900 and a second loan was contracted in 1902. The conditions of the latter were more onerous than of the first. It was laid down that future loans could only be contracted from Russia. A concession for the construction of a road from Julfa to Tehran was also obtained, early concessions for road construction in the north having been held by Lazar Poliakov. In 1903 a Russo-Persian customs treaty, negotiated in 1901-2, became effective. Under its terms

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the five per cent ad valorem duty established by the treaty of Turkomânchây was replaced by specific imposts. As a result of the new tariff Russian trade with Persia greatly increased and British trade was adversely affected. The Russian hold on Persia was thus further tightened, though it was temporarily slightly eased by Russian defeats in the Russo-Japanese war.

Towards the end of Nasir al-Din's reign a number of secret or semi secret societies, formed by those who supported the movement for liberal reform, began to meet in Tehran and in some of the provincial cities. Their discussions were mainly confined to the desirability of the liberation of the people from the yoke of tyranny and the benefits which accrued from freedom, justice and education. An important part was played in the enlightenment of their members by Persian papers published abroad—there was no press in Persia at this time. Among those which exercised great influence were the Habl al-matin, first published in Calcutta in 1893, Akhtar, a weekly founded in Constantinople in 1875, and Qânûn, edited by Malkam Khan and first published in London in 1890. Arabic and French newspapers were also avidly read. After the assassination of Nasir al-Din the members of these societies advocated reform more openly and their membership spread especially among the middle ranks of the `ulamâ'. They still regarded their main function to be the awakening of the people to the evils of despotism and the benefits of freedom, and with this in mind they encouraged their members to found schools in which the new learning would be taught; and this some of them did.

By 1903 discontent against the government, which had been increased by the loans of 1900 and 1902 and the subservience of the sadr-i a`zam to Russia, had become more open. In the following year a general sense of urgency, and a belief that the Persian people were faced by a choice between freedom and independence on the one hand and a continuation of the despotism and enslavement to foreigners on the other, caused various groups, which had hitherto acted independently, to meet together. They agreed to work for the establishment of a code of laws, the rule of justice, and the overthrow of tyranny. Their main purpose, however, was still the dissemination of information. In February 1905 another group, mainly drawn from the religious classes, was set up. Its main concern was to restrain corruption and curtail foreign intervention in Persian affairs. Its members were convinced that the despotism and tyranny of the government on the one hand and the possibility of inter-

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vention by Britain and Russia on the other constituted a threat to Islam; they also believed that the ills of the country could only be cured by education. Like the movement of opposition to the tobacco régie, these various groups and societies also became both nationalist and Islamic. They played an important part in preparing the people for modernization, canalizing the growing discontent, and bringing the disaffected elements together

Discontent came to a head in April 1905 when the shah was on the point of leaving for his third visit to Europe. A group of merchants took refuge in Shah `Abd al-`Azim, a shrine outside Tehran. The immediate cause was their dissatisfaction with the customs administration and its Belgian director, M. Naus. A promise was given that the latter would be dismissed on the shah's return, and the merchants dispersed. In May 1905 one of the secret societies circulated an open address to the sadr-i `azam calling his attention to the decay and disorder in the country, protesting at the lack of security and corruption of officials, and demanding inter alia a code of justice and the setting up of a ministry of justice, administrative, military, and tax reforms, a cleaning up of the customs administration, the foundation of technical schools and factories, a proper exploitation of the mineral resources of the country, and a limitation on the powers of ministers, ministries, and mullâs according to the Shari`a. Various acts of tyranny and extortion by the government and its officials meanwhile fanned the discontent, producing a state of sullen resentment among the people at large and tension in the capital. Finally, a large number of murids, merchants, and members of the craft guilds took refuge in Shah 'Abd al-`Azim. Their demands included the dismissal of M. Naus and the governor of Tehran, and the setting up of a ministry of justice.

In January 1906 the shah gave orders for the establishment of a ministry of justice (`adlat-khâna-i dawlati) for the purpose of executing the decrees of the Shari`a throughout Persia, so that all the subjects of the country should be equal before the law. This temporarily satisfied those who had taken asylum, and they returned to the city. But no steps were taken to implement the promises given. Public opinion became increasingly stirred by denunciations of the despotism by the mullâs, and when an attempt was made to expel one of the leading preachers from the city, riots ensued. A large concourse of the religious classes, merchants, artisans and others took refuge in Qumm. The bazaars closed in Tehran, and in July large numbers of merchants and members

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of the craft guilds took refuge in the British legation. They demanded the dismissal of the sadr-i a`zam, the promulgation of a code of laws, and the recall of the religious leaders from Qumm. The shah finally yielded to their demands and on 5 August 1906 issued an imperial rescript setting up a National Consultative Assembly.

Thus the movement for change, which had begun in the early years of the nineteenth century among the ruling classes in response to external pressure, and became during the second half of the century a dual movement for reform against internal corruption and resistance to foreign encroachment, was finally transformed, by the intransigence of the government, into a nationalist and Islamic movement demanding constitutional reform. Once more the state, which had so often appeared to be on the point of dissolution, was saved—but this time by a popular movement demanding a law which was equated with the Shari`a, and calling for a government which was believed to be Islamic. In fact, the success of the popular movement marked the final breakdown of the traditional forms of government it thought it was restoring, and marked the opening of a new system which was ultimately virtually to transform society.

Central Asia from the sixteenth century to Russian conquest

CHAPTER 7 CENTRAL ASIA FROM THE SIXTEENTH CENTURY TO THE RUSSIAN CONQUESTS ⁹⁵

THE CHANGING SITUATION OF CENTRAL ASIA

After the formation of the three great Islamic empires of the Ottomans, the Safavids and the Mughals, the situation of Central Asia in the following centuries was determined. After the death of Muhammad Shaybani in 916/1510 and the expulsion of Babur from Transoxania and Samarqand in 918/1512, it was clearly impossible for the Turks of Central Asia to subjugate the Persian plateau again as they had done in previous centuries. In spite of prolonged molestation by the Turcomans —comparable with that of Poland and Lithuania by the Crimean Tatars in the same centuries—the Safavids were able to hold out and to make Persia into an independent state with its own unique character.

The border area consequently created between Persia and Central Asia on the Oxus and to the south became not only a political frontier but also in equal degree a religious frontier. Transoxania and the greater part of the eastern Persian settlement area—approximately what is now Afghanistan and Tajikistan—remained Sunni; Persia became Shi`i. Even though there was no complete barrier against the spread of Persian culture into Central Asia in the following centuries, the difference of faith obstructed its diffusion. Persian culture, moulded by native Sunni forces in India just as much as in Transoxania, in general developed independently and without direct connexions with the culture of the Persian plateau. It was no longer feasible simply to take over works of literature, still less of theology, from thence and to make them a model for local productions. Even though the Persian classical models continued to have an influence in this area, the vital exchange with continuing developments was in any case interrupted. There is certainly justification for seeing this as largely responsible for the subsequent marked decline of the Persian language in Transoxania, which allowed Turkish, henceforward so to speak the ‘Sunni language', to become the idiom of western Central Asia apart from the mountains of Tajikistan. This shift of language and the weakening of links with Persian culture brought the development of the country down, very gradually, from the high level that had been ensured by the common cultural development of the Middle Ages.

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Until the Turks were converted to Islam, which they began to be around 349/96o, the north-east frontier of its expansion area had lain in the neighbourhood of Samargand, in Farghana, and in the Afghan mountain country. The conversion of the Turks of Transoxania had not really opened its path to Central Asia, while the Kara-Khitay and the Mongols adhered to other religions. The Muslim Turks between the fourth/tenth and seventh/thirteenth centuries themselves had focused their attention almost entirely on Persia and the Near East, and spread out in that direction. It did not occur to them to advance their settlement area, and with it their faith, further eastwards into Central Asia.

It was not until the seventh/thirteenth century, when Islam prevailed among the Chaghatay Mongols, and found a not entirely amiable champion in the person of Timûr, that Mughulistan, including the Tarim basin, was progressively penetrated by the doctrine of the Qur'an. Some of the local rulers regarded themselves as its champions against their eastern neighbours. Thus from the eighth/fourteenth century onwards large stretches of Central Asia were won over to Islam; at that time it also gained an increasing number of adherents in China. The only effective barrier against Islam was the conversion of the tribes in Mongolia to Lamaist Buddhism : they went over to it decisively at the close of the tenth/sixteenth century. Until then the Turkish peoples and tribes of Central Asia had been, almost without exception, united under the sign of the Qur'an.

Thus, whilst Transoxania had been cut off from its old connexions in the south since the early tenth/sixteenth century, the situation in the east had not yet been stabilized. There was for the time being no cause for fear of attack by non-Islamic peoples ; the continuous extension of Islam made a Holy War (jihad) unnecessary there for the time being. The sources indeed tell us almost nothing about this highly significant change in the structure of Central Asia in the tenth/sixteenth century; even the political history of the time is inadequately presented in them.

About this period, an opponent was emerging in the north-west whose importance was far beyond that of Chingiz Khan or Timûr—namely Russia. At just this time the tsar was putting out his first feelers towards Persia, to find out whether the Safavids could be made his allies against Bukhara and also against the Ottoman Turks. The Central Asian peoples, prevented from developing outwards by their powerful neighbours, no longer had the strength to create a great empire, or the inward mental concentration necessary for outstanding cultural

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achievements. The following centuries were therefore a period of decline and decay.

Central Asia was thus isolated from the early tenth/sixteenth century. States that came into existence in this area could have no supra-regional importance unless they could be extended towards Persia, and thereby brought large parts of the central Islamic countries under their control, as did the Seljuks, the Khwarazm-Shahs, the Il-Khans and Timûr. But the Shaybanids, in spite of all their political power in the tenth/sixteenth century, were unable to make any incursion into the core of the Islamic heartlands, and therefore led an existence on the margin of world history. From the threshold of modern times Central Asian history becomes provincial history. This justifies us in giving no more than a rapid sketch of the following centuries.

KHÏVA, SIBIR AND THE ÖZBEGS

The repelling of Safavid interference in Transoxania in 916-18/1510-12 left the country very much disunited. After 918/1512 a scion of the Shaybanid house, Ilbars, came to power in Khwarazm, henceforward more frequently called by the name of its capital, Khiva; the old name eventually disappeared. Ilbars made it an outpost of the Sunni faith against the Shi`a and also a base for incursions into neighbouring Persian areas. His descendants held out against all attempts (for example by the Kalmuks) to subdue them in the tenth/sixteenth and eleventh/ seventeenth centuries, and the country continued to exist for centuries as an independent state.

The extreme north-west of this area, the khanate of Sibir (Siberia), also kept its independence after Kuchum, a scion of a collateral line, had superseded the ruling khan there after prolonged struggles (1563-9). From 1579 onwards he was engaged in warfare with the Russians, who were advancing across the Urals; he was driven back in 1581, but in 1584 he was able to gain a victory over the Cossack leader, Yermak, who fled and was drowned. He did not, however, stop the Russian advance. A Russian settlement was established in 1586 in Tümen and another in 1587 in Tobolsk. Kuchum was defeated on the Ob in 1598 and had to flee to the Nogays, where he was murdered two years later. His son Ishim Khan, in spite of collaboration with the Kalmuks, had no further success. The conquest of the khanate of Sibir by the Russians was the starting-point for their domination as far as the Pacific and also deep into Central Asia. This also had the effect that traffic between

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eastern Europe and eastern Asia moved over to Siberia in the next centuries and went through Russian territory; there was a considerable decline in the economic importance of Turkistan.

The other areas of Central Asia (apart from Khiva and the eastern approaches of the Urals), and above all the Özbeg settlement area, were united once more when the Shaybanid 'Abd Allah II succeeded, from 958/1551 onwards, in warding off his enemies by a vigorous defence of his main possessions along the Zarafshan. The most dangerous of his attackers was the Özbeg, Nawrüz Ahmad Khan (959-63/1551-6). From then on 'Abd Allah steadily increased his sphere of influence, even though his reign was not free from insurrections. In 964/1557 he conquered Bukhara, which he made his capital, then between 981/1573 and 991/1583 he took Balkh, Samarqand, Tashkent and Farghana. 'Abd Allah assumed the title of khan in 991/1583, after the death of his feeble-minded father, Iskandar, whom he had proclaimed ruler of the Özbegs in 968/1561, though he never actually reigned. As khan, 'Abd Allah continued to show consideration for the Islamic religious organization, to which he made generous gifts. The strongly centralist policy directed against the influence of the Özbeg chiefs was unchanged, even though they were allowed to retain their rich fiefs. Henceforward the administration and the coinage were reorganized; public buildings and the like were erected, often by purchased slaves. At the same time there was a series of military campaigns. These put him in possession of Kulab, Badakshan (where a branch of the Timurid line had held out), and Gilan. On the other hand he was only able to devastate Khiva and also Mashhad and the Tarim basin, without being able to hold on to them. The Persian Shah `Abbas the Great expelled the Özbegs again from their conquests in Khurasan (Herat and Astarabad) in 1007/1598. `Abd Allah II tried to outmanoeuvre `Abbas, the greatest adversary of his closing years, by means of an alliance with Sultan Murad III and Akbar, with whom he exchanged ambassadors in 1585.<sup>96</sup> His tactics were similar to those of `Abbas himself, who kept up contact with the Habsburgs in the hope of correlating the fight against the Ottomans in the west (Hungary) with that in the east, along the Zagros mountains and in Azarbayjan.

Round about 1000/1590 a renewed unification of Central Asia under the strong personality of 'Abd Allah II seemed within reach. Then the Özbeg ruler quarrelled with his only son, to whom he had made over Balkh in 990/1582 and who was now trying to become actual ruler--just

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as his father had done with Iskandar Khan. This involved father and son in a lengthy feud that allowed the Kazakhs to reach the very gates of Tashkent and Samargand, and dragged on until 'Abd Allah II died in 1006/1598 while on a punitive campaign against the intruders. His son proved an ineffective successor; he was removed after a few months. `Abd Allah's state fell asunder, and his descendants disappeared.

Thus the last attempt at unification in Transoxania foundered just at the moment when the Safavid empire was at its zenith under Shah `Abbas the Great. North-east Persia suffered in the next centuries from continual raids by Turkish nomads, but these were in fact no more than pinpricks. The Persian plateau was now spared any serious attacks from the usual source of trouble in the north-east. The two dangerous thrusts made almost simultaneously against Persia in the first half of the eighteenth century, the Afghan invasion and Peter the Great's attempt to seize Gilan, came from other directions.

THE TARIM BASIN UNDER THE LAST CHINGIZIDS AND JUNGAR SUPREMACY

Before continuing our consideration of the fate of Transoxania, we turn our attention to the south-east, to the last offshoot of the state of Mughulistan. In the eastern half of this state the Chaghatay dynasty established itself from the beginning of the sixteenth century. Two brothers, Mansûr and Said Khan, had succeeded in breaking the power of the dominant Dûghlat family. The two brothers now shared the territory in such a way that Said came into possession of their domains in the south-western part of the Tarim basin. Mansûr ruled over Semirech'ye, Yulduz and the Turf-an oasis. In mutual quiet and amity they succeeded in keeping off the Shaybanids and giving the country a long period of peace. The brothers were convinced Muslims and were rooted in an urban culture. They drove back the influence of nomadic elements and opened the way into the Tarim basin for the culture of Samargand and Bukhara, which had now gathered strength again. Here in the Tarim basin eastern Turkish (Chaghatay) had probably completely superseded the Indo-Germanic speech of earlier centuries, even though Muhammad Haydar Mirzâ. Dûghlat (c. 905-58 / 1500-51) wrote his well-known historical work Târikh-i Rashidi in Persian. There was no traceable Chinese influence in this area in the tenth/sixteenth century.

The two brother-princes also shared their military tasks. Mansûr turned his attention to the east, where it was still a question of fighting

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for the spread of Islam. In 919/1513 the oasis of Qomul (Ha-mi), which even earlier on had been the goal of Muslim rulers in this area, put itself under his sovereignty. In 923/1517 Mansûr chose this place as his capital and made it his base for further attacks on China. At various times he advanced as far as Tun-huang, Su-chou and Kan-chou (in Kan-su) ; thus Chinese chronicles mention him as well as native ones. Even if it was not granted to the people of eastern Turkistan to get these territories permanently under their rule, nevertheless the spread of Islam in just these western provinces of China may well have been furthered by numerous conversions that occurred at this period.

At the same time Sa`id Khan invaded the province of Ladakh, which was in those days united with Tibet. The historian Haydar Mirza, whom we have previously mentioned, was commander there in 937/1531; this indicates that there were still friendly relations at that time between the khan and the powerful Dûghlat clan. However, this state of affairs did not last—one might say, unfortunately for the country. `Abd al-Rashid, who succeeded his father Sa`id Khan in Kashgar in 939/1533, strove for greater independence and was no longer satisfied with the existing balance of power. Haydar therefore fled from his service and established himself in Kashmir in 948/1541.

This opened the way for a development that was to lead to an entirely new situation. The two Chaghatay brothers and their descendants were tied down by military factors in the south and the east, and this gave the Kazakhs free play to spread out in northern Mughulistan. The Ili and Kunges valleys passed into the possession of the Kazakhs. `Abd al-Rashid found himself restricted to Kashgar, which was inaccessible to the Kazakhs, it being impossible for them to get over the Tien-Shan range.

Secondly, there were new forces at work in the country itself, and their influence grew steadily after the death of Said Khan. Here, as everywhere in the Islamic countries, the reputed descendants of the Prophet and his Companions were held in high respect. They were especially revered in an orthodox Islamic area like the Tarim basin, where the high morale of the march-warriors (ghâzis) still existed. The descendants of Muhammad, together with those of the other Patriarchal Caliphs, formed clans, the leading members of which were called Khôjas.

These clans split into two parties, the Ak-Taghlik (‘of the White Mountain') and the Kara-Taghlik (‘of the Black Mountain'), with their centres of power at Kashgar and Yarkand respectively. Their importance

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was increased by the discord among the sons of Mansûr (d. 952/1545); the period of peaceful development in the Tarim basin was once again at an end. According to Chinese sources, Shah-Khan (952-c. 978/1545-c.1570) and Muhammad were at enmity with one another. With the help of the Oirats Muhammad was able to seize part of the Qomul oasis.

After 978/1570 he was fighting against a third brother. There is no clear information about the details of this development, for even Chinese sources are silent after the cessation of the threat from Qomul. We are only told of envoys sent by a Turkish khan from Turfân in 1654 and 1657, after the victory of the Manchu dynasty in 1644.

In the west of the country 'Abd al-Rashid had died in Kashgar in 1565 or 1570. His son 'Abd al-Karim (or 'Abd al-Latif) came to power soon after, and reigned until after 1593 ; he assigned Yarkand to his brother Muhammad as an appanage. He was evidently still ruling there in 1603 when the Portuguese Jesuit missionary, Benedict Goës, travelled across the country. The granting of this appanage certainly averted an open quarrel within the dynasty, but it also accelerated the break-up of the country, and helped to make the Khôja families its real lords. Consequently the Tarim basin, with its oasis-type individual settlements, steadily disintegrated again into city-states of the kind that had characterized it during the struggles of the Chinese and the Hiung-nu about the beginning of the Christian era, and that subsequently became famous as stations on the Silk Road. Not only Yarkand and Kashgar but also Ak-Su and Khotan became the centres of such Khôja clans. At the same time the Ak-Taghlik group kept up connexions with the Kazakhs. The latter were at that time split into three hordes, the Great or Older, the Middle, and the Little or Younger Horde ; they were settled north of the Aral and Caspian Seas and up to the rivers Irtysh and Tobol; they had meanwhile subjugated the Ili valley. The Kara-Taghlik on the other hand relied on the Kirghiz on the southern slopes of the Tien-Shan range.

Alongside them, the khans descended from Chaghatay were tolerated as they had no real power. When Khan Ismail tried to alter this state of affairs by an attempt to overthrow the Ak-Taghlik, the latter called in the Mongol tribe of the Jungars. Thus in 1089/1678 the Ak-Taghlik defeated Khan Ismail and at the same time the Kara-Taghlik of Yarkand. The leader of the Ak-Taghlik now established himself as khan in his rivals' former centre. Thereby the last descendant of Chaghatay (and consequently of Chingiz Khan) was eliminated from Muslim eastern

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Turkistan. At that time, however, there were still descendants of Chingiz ruling in Bukhara and—in the Giray branch—in the Crimea. Now the period of the `holy state' of the Khôjas began for the Tarim basin.

The holiness of this state was by no means impaired by its exposure to the entirely un-Islamic influence of the Buddhist-Lamaist Jungars. In connexion with the upheaval of 1089/1678, the Jungars had advanced into the neighbourhood of Kashgar, where they had arbitrarily set up members of the two rival Khôja groups as khans of the Tarim basin. From this area the ruler of the Jungars, the Lamaist Galdan (1671-97), with the moral support of the Tibetan Dalai Lama, attacked and occupied Semirech'ye, and also the oases of Turfân and Qomul, hitherto ruled by descendants of Chaghatay, who were now superseded. From 1688 onwards Galdan tried to encroach on the territories of other Mongol tribes, but was prevented from doing so by the intervention of the Chinese emperor. The Jungar leader eventually found himself driven to suicide.

Galdan's successor, his nephew Tsewang Rabdan (1697-1727), fought the Kazakhs in the north, and in 1723 won Tashkent and the town of Turkistan (Yasi) from them; he also fought the Chinese around Qomul and Turfân (1715-24) until he had occupied both oases. Tsewang Rabdan, who had as his military adviser a captured Swedish sergeant from the army of Charles XII, was able to maintain his supremacy over the Tarim basin unimpaired. His son and successor, Galdang Tsereng (1727-45), eventually divided the basin into four independent states, namely Kashgar, Ak-Su, Yarkand and Khotan. He was able to extend his influence westwards over the Kazakhs, but in 1732 he lost certain other, more northern, parts of his state to the Chinese. After the death of Galdang Tsereng there was an insurrection among the inhabitants of the Tarim basin. The division into four city-states was abolished; and, in consequence of internal quarrels among the Jungars, in 1753-4 and finally 1757, the Turks living there were able to shake off Jungar supremacy. This was, however, an empty victory, for after the subjection of the Jungars in Jungaria in 1755-8, the Chinese advanced with a strong army against the former Jungarian possession, the Tarim basin, which had in fact on various occasions already been subject to the Chinese in earlier centuries. In 1757-9 after bitter and fluctuating battles they conquered the country, and it was now transformed into the New Marches' (Sin-Kiang) of the Manchu empire.

The collapse of the last nomad empire in Central Asia had the effect

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that the Kirghiz and the Kazakhs, hitherto oppressed by the Jungars, and forced out into the oases, became active again. They regained possession respectively of Semirech'ye and of the northern part of the Tien-Shan range. The leading Kazakh groups of the Great Horde and Middle Horde turned towards the Chinese empire and paid tribute to it down to the middle of the nineteenth century, in order to ensure thereby the exchange of their horses and cattle for Chinese silk. This trade went on for decades to the mutual satisfaction of both parties. Chinese trading-stations were set up at several points in the Kazakh settlement area; Kazakh trading caravans penetrated Outer Mongolia and the Tarim basin. Ultimately, as Russian influence also spread more and more from Orenburg (founded 1735), the two Kazakh hordes finally submitted themselves around 1845. Their Chinese trade was now at an end.

COMMON FEATURES IN THE DEVELOPMENT OF INNER ASIA FROM 1600 ONWARDS

Between the sixteenth and nineteenth centuries, Transoxania and western Turkistan had no common political history, and we are forced to make a separate study of each of the various states that came into being. None the less, we must not forget the many common features that they possessed, and we shall also have to mention numerous mutual contacts between them.

There were some common traits that transcended political frontiers. There was, for instance, the strict Sunni orthodoxy which all the inhabitants acknowledged, Turks and Tajiks, settled peoples as well as nomads, peasants and courtiers, administrative officials and the rulers. It gave Central Asia its characteristic stamp down to the present time and, as we have seen, it differentiated the cultural development of this country from that of Persia (which was now Shi`i) more clearly than before. Even if one takes into account that the following centuries were not particularly fertile in new religious ideas, or in the development of any theology adapted to the changing circumstances of the times, none the less Sunni orthodoxy gave the population a firm support that enabled it to regain its tranquillity and re-discover its own personality after the many horrors it had experienced between the thirteenth and sixteenth centuries. The charitable activities constantly practised by Islam, not only in medreses and mosques but also by means of organized institutions like the Safi convents with their feeding of the poor and

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their educational work among young artisans and the like, also did much to make the material conditions of life more peaceful.

A religious spirit pervaded all public life, every class and tribe. One can therefore understand the practically unshakeable position of the ‘ulema' and ‘fuqaha', and the Sûfi orders, the strongest of which were the Naqshbandiyya and Kubrawiyya. For a ruler who relied on them and collaborated with them they were a very powerful support; they were, moreover, in close contact with the population as qâdis and their assistants, as administrators of various kinds and as imams among the nomads. Attempts to curb the power or restrict the influence of the ‘ulemâ' were always dangerous, even on occasions when there was undeniably some element of justification for them. Several khans came to grief through endeavours of this kind. Such events reverberate in the writings of the historians, who took up a correct Sunni attitude, and delivered their judgments on leading personalities from that standpoint—as indeed they were compelled to do, by reason of the contemporary social structure.

Theology was completely integrated into the general Sunni tradition and a supervisory body under a re' is (comparable with the sadr in Shi`i Persia) took care that correct doctrine was taught in these countries. Historical writing, having to depict a changing age, could not restrict itself to the repetition—or at best the reorganization—of what already existed. New states of affairs and new developments made reinterpretation necessary, however much the philosophical basis remained unchanged. Admittedly the historiography of this period has not yet been investigated in all its details; the student is here largely dependent on a number of Russian learned works which very often cannot be checked against their sources. In historical writing the decisive religious opposition to Persia made itself felt to the extent that contemporary Persian chronicles could no longer simply be considered as authoritative. Historical accounts written by natives of Central Asia stressed the spiritual opposition to Persia; the compulsion to view and judge historical events from their own standpoint caused a large increase in the number of these writings.

In these centuries the mental life of Central Asia was homogeneous. This was in accordance with sound Islamic tradition, for during the whole of the Middle Ages there had been free intercourse between artists and scholars and also merchants, to a much greater extent than in the West. This phenomenon now repeated itself on a smaller scale on the other side

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of the Oxus. The inclusion of the whole of Persia in the Shi`i orbit caused many Sunni scholars, and also many poets, to go to Transoxania in order to preserve their faith. In particular, personalities who had lived in Herat at the court of Husayn Baykara fled northwards and continued the Persian Sunni tradition of Herat among the Özbegs. The tenth/sixteenth and eleventh/seventeenth centuries were still rich in important figures who tried their hand at the traditional forms of the ghazal and the qasida in praise of the ruler. Any writer who did not accommodate himself to the framework of convention naturally could not reckon on gifts from the ruler. In the twelfth/eighteenth century the Indo-Persian poet Bahl from `Azimabad in north-western India (1054-1133/1644-1721) was much admired for his sceptical philosophy of life; he had imitators even in the nineteenth century. This is, by the way, an interesting cross-connexion between two areas of Sunni Persian culture, leaping over a homeland that had turned Shi`i.

The Persian literature of this period has not yet been definitely investigated, and we are also ill-informed about the details of works in the indigenous Turkish language—including various epics—such as were written especially at the court of Khokand. One of the Turcoman poets of this period is Makhdûm Quli (c. 1735-8o), who lived for a long time in Khiva; his poems have become popular and there have been various editions of them in recent years. Besides these original works there was also a not inconsiderable literature of translations from Persian into Turkish, for example of legends and also of historians such as Mirkhwand. The nineteenth century brought further stagnation : writing seemed restricted to mere imitations. Musical productions (songs, poetic declamations and instrumental music) were bound by tradition in the same degree as literature. They enjoyed great popularity with this people of music-lovers.

Considering the general state of development in Central Asia, it is not surprising that the school-system, intended mainly for boys, had hardly risen above the level of the Islamic Middle Ages. In the primary schools (sing., mekteb) children from six to fifteen years of age learned to read by rote from Arabic or Persian religious works, chiefly the Qur'an, which they understood hardly or not at all. The teaching was often done by the imams of neighbouring mosques, who were paid by the parents. Corporal punishment was frequent. Similar mektebs also existed in limited numbers among nomads ; among the Kazakhs there were relatively many Tatar teachers employed in this work.

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Above the mektebs—as was the case everywhere in the Islamic orbit—there were the medreses, mostly dependent on waqfs, and serving as theological colleges. These naturally had to impart a thorough knowledge of Arabic, but as far as teachers were available they also taught the fundamental operations of arithmetic. Medreses were almost entirely confined to the settled Özbegs and Tajiks. The pupil stayed at them for eight years—not infrequently even for fifteen or twenty years. He generally concluded his studies without any formal examination, but received from a respected khôja a diploma attesting his fitness to teach. The medreses also produced the judges and their assistants, also imams and future administrative officials—the last especially in Bukhara. Educational institutions of this kind in Khiva, together with Bukhara, had an especially high reputation. Students came to them even from India and Kashmir, from Russia and eastern Turkistan. Tradition has it that the total number of theological students round about 1790 was approximately 30,000.

The spatial situation of the states of Central Asia was also an important factor in the shaping of their common destiny. While the population of Transoxania became ever more settled, and at the same time the urban population of the Tarim basin found peace again and recovered its former self-confident attitude of mind, the whole borderland extending northwards and eastwards from the areas settled by Persians and Afghans passed entirely into the Islamic cultural sphere of a settled urban and rural population. The nomadic element, however, survived and continued to play a significant—and at times very important—role even in the nineteenth century, above all in Khokand. The nomads were none the less felt to be a disturbing element in the three khanates and their settling down was encouraged and welcomed, especially in Khiva. The khans also evolved methods of keeping order among the Turcomans, as well as the Kazakhs and Kirghiz pushing in from the north, by maintaining an intermediate class of tribal chiefs : the tribes were usually allowed to keep these after they had been subjected to a khan. There were indeed repeated insurrections, but they could usually be put down quickly. They were largely caused by internal discord among the nomads themselves and by the splitting up of their tribes. Khokand was the only area in which the nomads were for a time in political control.

As a natural consequence of this development the khanates of Central Asia became a bulwark against the advances of nomads like the Kazakhs

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and Kirghiz, or of Mongol tribes like the Jungars ; the first thrusts from the latter had in fact been parried by the Kazakhs and Kirghiz themselves. Although the khanates lost certain northern districts, they warded off a nomad inundation to the best of their ability, and thus also unintentionally defended the Persian settled area. Anyone who wanted to invade this would first have had to get control of the khanates on the Oxus and the Jaxartes. The Turcomans indeed remained a serious nuisance to neighbouring Persia and also at times to Khiva and Bukhârâ, but they were no longer a danger to the independence of Persia, especially at the period when the Safavid state was firmly established.

To appreciate fully the situation of the Central Asian khanates it is necessary to understand that the nomad peoples living in the north, the Kirghiz and the Kazakhs (in tsarist Russia known as Kara-Kirghiz and Kirghiz respectively) had in the sixteenth century generally kept their hold on Semirech'ye but had not, either then or in the seventeenth century, consolidated into any settled political order. Since 1533 the Kazakhs had been under increasing pressure from the Oirats, who were advancing south-westwards. Around 1570 the Oirats ruled the area between the Ili valley and upper Yenisei. Time and time again they put the Kazakhs in a desperate situation. It was understandable that the unrest among the northern nomads also made itself felt between the Oxus (Amu Darya) and the Jaxartes (Syr Darya) and to a certain extent influenced the dismembering of this region into individual states which occurred around 1600.

According to one hypothesis, the Kirghiz pushed forward from the Yenisei in the sixteenth century, occupied the northern part of what is now the Soviet Republic of Kirghizia and were able to defend it against the Kazakhs and the inhabitants of Mughulistân. In 1586—possibly once more under pressure from the Oirats—they tried to invade the Tarim basin and to advance towards Farghânâ. The Kara-Kalpaks first appear under that name in the sixteenth century. Around 1590 they were living on the lower Jaxartes. Prior to this they had evidently shared a nomadic life with the Nogais. By warding off the northern nomads the Central Asian khanates protected the Persian plateau, and by standing their ground they also safeguarded the traditional social organization of their own countries. This assigned the leading position to the ruling family but did not allow it to assert complete autocracy. The reason was that the leading clans and their biys (begs, beys) supplied the officers for the

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troops—who were almost always numerous—and consequently their influence, as well as that of the religious hierarchy, could hardly ever be completely eliminated. An energetic and autocratically inclined ruler had to take both factors into account. The fall of many a ruler was brought about by an attempt to eliminate one or the other of them.

Until the Russian conquest, the structure of this aristocracy of tribal princes and religious leaders was patriarchal. The peasants were personally free—there were also freedmen among them—and could rely on the landowners for aid in times of famine or in other distress. In such cases they received cattle, which they only had to restore to the donors if the latter were themselves in distress. If they were not in a position to do so, they might become slaves by reason of their indebtedness; but even then, although bound to the soil, they were not completely without rights. Road-building, as well as the constant and careful maintenance of irrigation and the construction of new canals, forced at least all the settled inhabitants to work in close co-operation under the supervision of the miârb or ak-sakal (‘whitebeard'), to enter into agreements for the apportionment of water, and to share the financial burdens of irrigation-works. When the shortage of land was aggravated by an increase in the population, state-land or the private property of the ruler was made available to enlarge the private property of the landowners and also the small farmers. Further, the founding of waqfs offered security against confiscation by the state, and at the same time the possibility of stabilizing conditions of tenure and assuring permanent provision for their administrators.

The land-tax (at that time called mâl vajihât, as in Safavid Persia) levied on farmland was widely paid in kind, though payment in money became increasingly frequent; for this there was a legally fixed rate of ten per cent, but often considerably higher rates (up to about twenty per cent) were deducted. No further details are known. Besides the land-tax there were also a number of other taxes, some of them inherited from older times, the nature of which is not always known, as well as turnover and property taxes on trade, commercial goods and cattle (zakât)—officially two and a half per cent, but often more. In addition taxes were levied on caravan traffic and horticultural establishments. At irregular intervals the khan claimed special contributions for himself or for the needs of the army.

The collecting of taxes was often done by means of tax-farms; this always meant additional contributions by those concerned. The tax-

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gatherer usually required a sheep as his own bonus, and demanded certain ‘presents' for the ruler. Besides these taxes there was the performance of corvées, for example in the constructions of roads and canals. There was also conscription for military service, which took a heavy toll of human lives in the frequent wars of the khanates among themselves, or against the nomads and Persia, and kept many country lads away from the soil for lengthy periods.

Great quantities of land accumulated not only in the hands of the dynasty but also in those of the biys (among the northern Kirghiz also called manap), of influential individuals and of the religious classes, together with the medreses and the Sufi convents. Their property might also consist of craft-establishments, caravanserai stud-farms or other profitable enterprises. The mutual interest in safeguarding landed property was one of the reasons for the generally very close cooperation between these two leading groups of the population. The amount of ploughed and grazing land owned by them was not infrequently increased by the ruler through assignments (soyurghâl, tiyûl) granted to influential families, or by the creation of new waqfs. Ground thus acquired could be sold, in practice even if not in theory, especially when it was free from taxes.

The cultivation of such extensive estates was effected by using tenant-farmers (who had to hand over up to half the harvest) and also slaves, i.e. prisoners taken in the khanates' frequent battles with one another and with their neighbours. A slave-market existed in Bukhârâ and was usually well supplied. In the nineteenth century the question of redeeming or liberating slaves frequently played a part in negotiations between the khanates and Persia or Russia. Persia, which was politically weak, was at that time usually refused any request for their liberation, simply because the slaves were indispensable for agriculture.

Besides agriculture and cattle-breeding as the nomads' main sources of income, industry and commerce were the economic backbone of the Central Asian states. Industry was carried on chiefly in the fields of lustre craftsmanship, miniature painting (in the style of Bihzâd), silk production and metal-working. Gold for this purpose came largely from Persia and Russia; silver came from China by way of Farghânâ. Manufacture of utility articles (such as pottery and the casting of cannon) was, however, still on a very primitive level. On the whole the craftsman's skill was steadily declining; remarkable nineteenth-century lustre decorations on mosques and medreses are found only in Khiva. It was

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only in the art of carpet-making that the ancient skill—even though subjected to tasteless variations—endured beyond the nineteenth century and the Russian annexation. In this field the Özbeg workshops have kept a leading position beside those of Persia, Afghanistan and Turkey, and they too have had a decisive influence on European and American taste. On the technological side there was the system of irrigation that has been regarded as a model and has become familiar, at any rate throughout the Soviet Union, under the name of the ‘Farghânâ method'.

Central Asian trade with its old far-reaching connexions was largely in the hands of the Sarts in Bukhârâ and Samarqand: these were linguistically turkicized merchants, mostly of Persian descent, though some part of them were of Soghdian origin. Mery and Tashkent (the latter increasingly from 1790 onwards) were also important as great trading cities. The exchange of goods continued in considerable volume during the eleventh/seventeenth and twelfth/eighteenth centuries, and included traffic with Russia. It was conducted from Kazan by way of the intermediate stations of Ufa and Bashkiria as before, and later also from Orenburg and Astrakhân with Mangishlak as an intermediate station. Other countries available to Transoxania for trade, by way of Farghânâ, were the Tarim basin, Persia, and to a limited extent India. Russian merchants had as yet no direct access to India, although a Russian envoy was received by the Awrangzêb in 1696.

The Central Asian khanates thus supplied the northern steppes and also Russia with the products of their native crafts and their weaving industry. In exchange for cottons and silks, Persian lambskins, carpets and occasionally also precious stones, Central Asia (and thereby also the more southerly countries) received cloth, satin, furs, hides, silver (also from China), falcons and wooden utility goods (pins, nails, dishes and also clubs). In addition it received metal goods, axes and firearms; these were intended for the court and often came as part of an exchange of presents. It has been suggested that the renewed minting of gold coins, for the first time since the Mongol period, may have been due to the importation of gold from Europe by way of Orenburg. The Tarim basin, and in transit also China and India, supplied mainly tea, porcelain goods and silver. However, the discovery of the sea-route to East Asia rendered the Silk Road increasingly superfluous, so that the volume of trade was not significantly greater than in the Middle Ages and in any case did not share in the universal upswing of this period.

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BUKHÂRÂ

In Bukhara, the heartland of its dominion, the Shaybanid dynasty did not perish completely; it continued at any rate in the female line. In 1007/1599 Baqi Muhammad, son of a Shaybanid princess (a sister of `Abd Allah II) and a Prince Jan from the dynasty of Astrakhan, succeeded in taking possession of his maternal grandfather's heritage in Transoxania. However, in the process parts of it—especially Tashkent and the town of Turkistan (Yasi)—were lost to the Kazakhs, and thereby remained shut off from Islamic urban civilization for a considerable period. After the death of 'Abd Allah II in 1006/1598 Khurasan finally came back to the Safavids. The members of the dynasty founded by Baqi Muhammad were called Janids after his father, or else Ashtar-khanids (from the Tatar name for Astrakhan) after their place of origin. For a long time this dynasty possessed the Balkh area south of the Oxus, and the heir to the throne (rarely the khan himself) resided there. Renewed extension of Bukharan power in a north-westerly direction had only temporary success, countered as it was by the Kazakhs thrusting in to the south. In the course of this struggle Khan Imam Quli (1020-53/ 1611-43) advanced as far as the mouth of the Jaxartes and for a time occupied Tashkent, where he caused a gruesome massacre. After the death of his energetic second successor `Abd al-`Aziz (1055-91/1645-80) a period of general disintegration set in, beginning with an insurrection in the Zarafshan valley. Around 1121/1710 the Farghana valley broke away from Bukharan domination and formed the state of Khokand. The importance of Bukhara and its dynasty for the cultivation of Sunni orthodoxy, elegant literature and the writing of history has already been indicated. Many of the details of this period, especially with regard to political events, have not yet been investigated. The constant struggle between the khans (for whose reigns we sometimes have no dates) and the influential Özbeg clans in the country ruled out any far-reaching external political ventures and led to a weakening of the central authority. The chiefs of the noble clans were becoming more and more independent—a development that calls to mind the increasing importance of the dere-beyis in Anatolia at the end of the eighteenth and the beginning of the nineteenth century. Nevertheless, and in spite of a deterioration of the coinage in 1709, agriculture (aided by new irrigation works) and trade developed favourably; Bukhara became the most important entrepôt for foodstuffs in all Central Asia.

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Bukharan merchants owned establishments in the Tarim basin and far over towards Siberia; there they worked hand in hand with Tatar merchants.

The establishment of an extremely powerful régime in Persia by the Sunni Nadir Shah caused the Janid ruler, Abu'l-Fayz (I 123-60/1711-47), to lose the area around Balkh. The many wars, internal disturbances and famines of this period led to a new migration to Farghana. After these troubles the Janids were increasingly under the influence of a dynasty of major-domos (ataliks), the Mangits. The Mangit dynasty superseded the Janids with Murad Ma`sûm Shah (1199-1215/1785-180o), who married a princess from the former line. Its first representative, Muhammad Rahim Bey (d. 1171/1758), had styled himself khan in 1167/1753, whereas later members of his house bore the title of emir. The social structure of the country and the distribution of land were preserved under the new dynasty. The influence of the religious classes increased rather than diminished; pupils streamed into the medreses from far and wide.

However, fraternal wars with the other khanates continued. Khan Haydar (I 800-26), who murdered many of his relatives at the beginning of his reign, and by these barbarous means prevented internal feuds, was able to ward off an attack from Khiva in 1804, and afterwards fought a long and obstinate battle against the khanate of Khokand. He then found himself in a really critical situation when an insurrection of the Özbeg Kitay-Kipchaks between Samarqand and Bukhârâ, brought about by the weight of taxation and forced enlistment, came on top of an advance by the Khiva troops up to the very gates of Bukhara in 1821. This insurrection went on until 1825 and was put down after complicated fighting. A second attempted insurrection, and a rising in Samarqand itself in the following year, were also unsuccessful.

Haydar had died in the meantime. He had squandered the state treasure, not only in his military ventures but also in great expenditure on the harem. His successor, Nasr Allah (1826-6o), made his way to power by murder, as Haydar had done before him; he is described by contemporary travellers as a cruel tyrant, aided and abetted by accomplices of a similar kind and mostly of obscure origin. He strengthened the army and developed the artillery; he waged wars against his neighbours, including Khokand, against which he made various thrusts from 1839 onwards without any ultimate success. From 1842 to 1846 he was at war with Khiva. He fought the town of Shahr-i Sabz throughout his life;

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it was conquered only in the year of his death. The constant battles exhausted the country's strength. Various parts of it—not only Shahr-i Sabz, but also what is now Afghan Turkistan, and also Balkh (which belonged to Bukhara from 1826 onwards)—were practically independent of the central government. Mery passed temporarily into Afghan hands, and in 1849 Afghanistan finally took over Balkh. Afghanistan now asserted itself with increasing vigour as a middle power and caused the Central Asian khanates to sink more and more into the background.

The British and the Russians were watching this kingdom; they now also turned their attention more and more to the Central Asian khanates, and sent their representatives to the court of the ruler of Bukhara. Nasr Allah's son and successor, Muzaffar al-Din (186o-85), however, did not allow the by no means disinterested attitude of his powerful neighbours to prevent him from continuing the internecine wars against the other rulers. He fought Khokand until 1866, made an abortive attack on Tashkent in 1865 and, while all this was going on, soon lost Shahr-i Sabz again.

From the middle of the nineteenth century the Russian empire, though not actually an immediate neighbour of the khanate of Bukhara, was none the less nearly adjacent to it on the north. Travellers at the beginning of the nineteenth century estimated the population of the khanate at two and a half to three millions⁹⁷, one half of them being farmers and the other half cattle-breeders; the town of Bukhara had about 70,000 inhabitants (three-quarters of them Persian-speaking) and Samargand had about 30,000. The khanate extended to Afghan Turkistan, Hisar (in what is now Tajikistan) as far as the western entry of the Farghana basin—where there was repeated fighting with Khokand for possession of Ura-Tübe and even Khoj and (Khojent)—and finally as far as the town of Turkistan. It lost Mery to Khiva around 1825.

Bukhara, exposed to progressive Russian advances from the north and repeatedly defeated, had to recognize a Russian protectorate in July 1868 and to relinquish a large part of its territory, including Samargand, which had already been occupied by General K. P. Kaufman (von Kauffmann) on 14 March 1868. The emir was, however, able, with Russian support, to get some compensation in the south of his country. The Russian domination allowed the country to retain its internal administration and its religious life; it was deprived of its freedom of action only in matters of foreign policy.

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KHOKAND

During the many struggles and disorders of the closing years of the seventeenth century the region around Khokand, with the Farghana basin as its heartland, had already become increasingly independent of Bukhara. The basin of the middle Jaxartes was protected by mountains : it was therefore less affected by the Jungars than the other territories in the north and west, and it became a place of refuge for the hard-pressed. Many of these brought a wealth of experience with them, and the racial composition of Farghana was fundamentally altered by this immigration. As early as the ninth/fifteenth century Turks and Sarts (i.e. Persians, Tajiks) had shared the region in such a manner that the latter were settled in the area around Margelan and Sokha and the former mainly in Andijan. Özbegs appeared at the beginning of the sixteenth century, and Kirghiz at its end. During the eighteenth century these races slowly but steadily took over the slopes of the Alai range and subsequently the mountain chains situated in the east and north-east of the country. Finally the Kipchaks had gained importance ; linguistically they belonged to the Özbegs, but their social structure was more closely related to that of the Kirghiz. In addition to these fragments of various races, the eighteenth century also saw the arrival of Sarts from Samargand and Bukhara, Özbegs from the areas that had suffered from the Jungars, and also parts of the Kara-Kalpaks and other Turkish tribes. Eventually Turkish and `Arab' fugitives moved in from the Tarim basin, when this was conquered by the Chinese after 1759.

It was apparent that most of these immigrants had no ties with the khanate of Bukhara, and they accepted without demur the political severance of the Farghana valley under Shah-Rukh (d. 1135/1722-3), a descendant of Abu'l-Khayr the Shaybanid. The dynasty that had thus come to power proved itself energetic, encouraged the extension of the towns, supported agriculture (especially the breeding of silkworms) by means of improvement and irrigation, and kept an eye on the ever-important transit trade, especially with eastern Turkistan. However, even though the influence of the Khôja families was gradually diminished, the power of the ruling house was for a long time severely restricted by the smallness of the state. After the subjection of eastern Turkistan by China in 1759, Khokand, shaken by various internal disorders, had to recognize Chinese suzerainty—at any rate nominally. Besides Khokand, there were also several other small states. In these

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there was clear evidence of the fact that the various elements of the Farghana valley population had as yet by no means fused with one another. It was only in the nineteenth century that a gradual rapprochement occurred, even between Özbegs and Tajiks. However, other tribes like the nomad Kipchaks preserved their organization during the nineteenth century—thus making it certain that they would have important influence—and avoided any contact with the Özbegs, although these were linguistically closely related to them. Khojand and the mountain valleys south-west of Khokand remained in the hands of the Persians, inhabited mainly by Tajik highlanders.

The political unification of the Farghana valley under the khan of Khokand was thus an achievement of the nineteenth century. It began after `Alim Khan (1799-1809 ; according to Nalivkin, 1808-16) had gained the victory over several antagonists. By supporting Ura-Tube and Jizak (at the south-west end of the Farghana valley) against Bukhara, he started the state's rise to power, and also prepared the way for the gradual decline of Bukhara. In contrast to Khokand, and also to Khiva, the khanate of Bukhara almost always suffered losses of territory in the nineteenth century.

The biys of Khokand, however, watched the rise of their khan with a certain amount of dissatisfaction. They were indeed well aware that an increase in his power would lessen their own influence. Hence they repeatedly refused to co-operate in the ruler's military ventures, and he was forced to recruit a new body of troops consisting of Tâjiks. When he had succeeded in doing this, the chiefs of the individual clans were in a less important position, and did not need the same consideration as before. Thus `Alim Khan could now set out to seek further conquests, in the first place to the north, where in 18o8 Tashkent with some 70,000 inhabitants fell into his hands; it was an important centre for trading traffic, especially in the direction of Orenburg. Hitherto the town had been under the de facto control of a Khôja aristocracy, but nominally it had belonged to Bukhara. The Kazakhs of this area wanted to avoid acknowledging a superior authority and attempted an insurrection, but 'Alin). Khan was able to suppress it in the bitter winter of 1808-9. However, he was murdered in -1809 (or 1816) ; according to the historians `in consequence of his cruelty and tyranny', but perhaps in reality because the Özbegs were jealous of his Tâjik army.

His brother and successor `Umar (1809 [or 1816]-1822), who assumed the title of amir al-mu'minin (‘commander of the faithful', the ancient

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title of the caliphs) is, however, highly praised by the historians. He held fast to traditional forces, the religious classes and the leaders of the dominant clans, and at the same time encouraged literature—which, however, could be nothing more than court poetry. The khan himself wrote some poetic works.

Renewed battles for Ura-Tübe and Jizak were indecisive, in spite of support from Shahr-i Sabz, and Bukhara took possession of Samarqand itself; meanwhile, in the spring of 1814, there was the successful capture of the town of Turkistan and its environs, which had nominally belonged to Bukhara but in reality had been independent under a Kazakh sultan. Now the Kazakh chieftains as far away as Semirech'ye also subjected themselves to the khan of Khokand. He allowed them to retain internal self-government under his supremacy, but from 1817 onwards sought to buttress his somewhat insecure position by establishing a number of strongholds. Around them there soon arose market settlements with mosques and medreses. From these bases it was possible in 1821 to suppress an insurrection by the Kazakhs to the north of Tashkent.

`Umar's son and successor, Muhammad `Ali (in shortened form, Madali) inherited the throne in 1822 at the age of twelve ; in 1831 he added to his father's conquests the southern highlands, where the Tajik population lived in patriarchal conditions as mountain-shepherds or gold-washers ; the menfolk had often gone down into the Farghanâ valley in the summer as seasonal workers. A number of native Tâjik princes were allowed to retain their positions. The growing tyranny of the ruler, who was noticeably devoting himself more and more to wine and the harem, and dissipating the strength of his country in fruitless attacks on the practically independent frontier fortresses of Jizak and Ura-Tube, had the effect that in 1839 the population led by the `ulemâ' called upon the Bukharans for aid. They took Khojand and forced Madali to acknowledge their supremacy. In a second advance they took Khokand itself in April 1842, and the much-hated khan was torn to pieces.

In the next year the Bukharan occupation troops were successfully expelled with the help of Kirghiz and Kazakhs, and both Khojand and Tashkent were retaken. However, Khokand did not regain internal peace, for now nomad elements—not only the Kirghiz but also especially the Kipchaks—got the upper hand over the war-weakened noble families. They deposed the new khan (who came from the old dynasty) and in 1845 transferred the actual control of Khokand to their

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own leader, Muslim-an Qul. In consequence the arable land—in any case barely adequate—was transformed into pastures that were common property of the nomad tribes. Farmers were required to pay for irrigation, and the nomads forced the natives to give up local girls as wives for members of the tribe without the customary payment of bride-money for them. All this, together with another fruitless attack on Ura-Tube, led in October 1851 to the expulsion of the nomads, the removal of their leader and the distribution of their pasture lands among the settled inhabitants. But Khan Khudâyar, who had only just gained effective power, was unable to hold out against his brother, Mallâ Beg, and was deposed by him in 1858. Consequently the Kipchaks were again predominant, and former pasture-lands were returned to them; this caused renewed and violent quarrels between the settled inhabitants and the nomads. All this happened during the approach of the Russians, who took Ak-Mesjid in 1853, and turned it into the fortress of Perovsk (named after the victorious general), and soon also had control of Tokmak and, for a time, of Pishpek.

There had been various disorders in recent years which it had been possible to suppress with the aid of the fortresses established in the large towns. The struggle with Bukhara for Ura-Tube had at any rate been indecisive. However, when Mallâ Beg called his army together in the spring of 1862 for a campaign against the Russians (with infantry, cavalry and artillery he had some 40,000 men), his troops refused obedience, and in March of that year he met a violent death in his own capital.

That was the end. In the same year, and again in 1865, the Bukharans occupied Khokand; they forced the ceding of Tashkent, which was, however, conquered in June 1865 by the Russians under General Chernyayev after two days of sanguinary street-fighting. In 1866 Khan Sayyid Sultan lost the stronghold of Khojand, and thereby found himself restricted to the Farghânâ basin; however, by the treaty of 1868 the Russians allowed the country to retain its independence. It was only in 1875, when Khan Khudâyâr (who had returned to the throne in 1871) was driven out by an insurrection, that the Russians intervened, and forced his son, Nâsir al-Din, to renounce his sovereignty. Unlike Khiva and Bukhara, the country was now directly incorporated into the Russian empire. Farghand had already made a great deal of economic progress in its last years of independence. Its irrigation system, carefully organized for hundreds of years, was expanded in the nineteenth century

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by the construction of a series of new canals. Allocation of water was under state control; among the nomads it was administered by the elders of the tribes. A fixed sum had to be paid for the provision of water. This certainly bore heavily on some people, and meant that others got no water at all, or at best only an irregular supply; but it was the only way of securing the funds needed to maintain and reconstruct the canals, in so far as the inhabitants themselves were not personally called upon to do the work. As long as the course of development was normal—that is, before the disasters that set in from 1842 onwards—the nomads tended to become sedentaries. Arable land increased, though not to an adequate extent. In consequence of the dense population of the Farghana basin and the relatively large size of the towns (Khokand had about 8,000 houses, with 360 mosques and twelve medreses and also caravanserais and bath-houses), market-gardening took on great importance. Moreover, as long as the well-established administration continued to function on a basis of patriarchal conditions, assuring a leading position for the religious classes as well as the heads of the clans, the pre-conditions for favourable economic developments existed.

KHiVA

As we have seen already, the area south of the Aral Sea, the khanate of Khiva, had in the long run been able to escape incorporation into the Shaybanid state; it was therefore not directly and adversely affected by the collapse of that state in 1006-7/1598-9, but rather freed from the burden of pressure upon it. Khiva was now powerful enough to ward off a whole series of Kazakh attacks on it between 1022/1613 and 1042/1632, moreover at a time when the capital was transferred from Urgench to Khiva because of the drying up of the arm of the Oxus on which Urgench lay (c. 1024/1615). Renewed Kazakh attacks in 1058/1648 and 1063/1652-3 were repelled by Abu'l-Ghâzi Bahâdur Khan (1054-74/ 1644-63), a prince who deserves mention for his informative Sha, jarat al-Atrâk, written in Chaghatay Turkish. The work is one of the most important sources for the history of his own khanate. In 1073/1662 he succeeded in advancing into the vicinity of Bukhara. His son and successor Anusha (1074-99/1663-87) was also able to keep his neighbours at bay and, in command of Özbeg and Turcoman forces, to do them considerable damage. Khurâsân, without any reliable protector after the death of Shdh `Abbas the Great, also had to suffer much from him.

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Subsequently Khiva never rose to anything more than local importance. From the end of the eleventh/seventeenth century the khans—there were nine of them in the years between 1687 and 1716 ⁹⁸ - became ever more powerless. Alongside them the Kungrat family gained steadily increasing influence, and was able to save the country from direct intervention by giving nominal recognition to Nadir Shah between 1153/1740 and 1160/1747. An expedition against the country sent by Peter the Great had failed to reach its goal because of the severity of the climate and severe casualties. Around 1184/1770 even the Turcoman nomads could not penetrate into the country. The Kungrat prince, Muhammad Amin (d. 1204/1790) was, as inak (‘captain of the army'), the virtual head of the state, but the family did not assume the title of khan until 1804.

In cultural matters Khiva was far inferior to Bukhara. The many defensive wars against the nomads had raised the military class to a much more important role than that of the scholars and civil administrators. The servicing of the canals was neglected, and at that time a great deal of former arable land reverted to steppe.

The shortage of land may therefore have been one of the reasons for the expansionist policy pursued by Khiva from the beginning of the nineteenth century onwards. Until then the khanate had included only a small area in the delta at the mouth of the Oxus. On the real estuary to the north, the Aral Sea area with its capital of Kungrad and a predominantly Kara-Kalpak farming and fishing population, had been able to preserve its independence ever since the seventeenth century. It was not incorporated into Khiva until 1811; Bukhara had then refused to give it help.

Even in the khanate of Khiva, the basic population consisted of Özbegs together with the so-called Sarts, the latter being descendants of the old Khwarazmians who had been gradually turkicized, probably over a long period from the thirteenth or fourteenth century. These were mainly merchants living in the towns ; they were especially numerous in the district of Hazarasp on the lower Oxus. Parts of the neighbouring Kazakh population, and especially the Turcoman nomads, had close relations with Khiva, and were tied to it by the mutual exchange of their products ; this trading had the effect that the Turcomans increasingly became cultivators instead of cattle-breeders. The influence of Turcoman mullas trained in Khiva made itself felt among them, especially within the leading Yomut tribe.

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These factors certainly made it easier for Khan Muhammad Rahim of Khiva to find numerous helpers when, after his accession to the throne in 1806, he undertook a systematic extension of his sphere of influence. He took over Aral in 1811 and several Kara-Kalpak tribes, then from 1812 onwards the area settled by Kazakhs up to the mouth of the Jaxartes, then the Tekke Turcomans up to the borders of Khurasan, and finally he took Mery in 1822 in the course of a war with Bukhara. New Mery was founded in the neighbourhood of Mery in 1824. The frequent campaigns strengthened the influence of the military class; the khan was compelled to reward the leaders of these campaigns—and also his collaborators in general, among them many religious dignitaries—with large tracts of land that he had taken from various noble clans. This brought about the formation of a number of estates of considerable size, whereas the normal agricultural structure of Khiva was characterized by fairly small holdings of land. Muhammad Rahim died in 1825 : for some time thereafter the internal situation in the khanate was tense. The Kara-Kalpaks rebelled in 1827 and in 1855-6 ; so also did the Kazakhs in 1842, the inhabitants of Mery in 1827, 1842 and 1854, and Turcomans and Kara-Kalpaks engaged in a stubborn struggle led by Sayyid Muhammad in 1856-64. Even though it was possible in the end to subdue all these rebellions, which were largely provoked by the pressure of taxation, charges on landed property (for the construction of canals) and oppressive recruitment for military service, none the less they noticeably impaired the internal strength of the small state. In 1819 its population was estimated at about 300,000 persons ; the capital had at that time about 3,000 houses, and in 1842 it was said to have 4,000 inhabitants.

It has been alleged that the failure of these rebellions was due not only to internal discords among the insurgents but also to the absence of any aid from the outside on the part of Persia, Afghanistan or Bukhara. After the middle of the nineteenth century this situation gradually changed. When battles raged in the Kungrad area in 1858-9 the Russians intervened; their attitude towards Khiva had stiffened considerably in the preceding years. Mangishlak fell into their hands in 1834, and by 1842 they had established the stronghold of Raimsk (presumably so named after Rahim; also called Aral'sk) on the lower Jaxartes. From 1869 onwards Krasnovodsk on the eastern coast of the Caspian gained ever-increasing importance. Russian slaves were handed back, in spite of the failure of an expedition sent by the tsar in

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1839-40, while similar negotiations with Persia in 1851 were deliberately allowed to come to nothing. British diplomatic missions failed to establish any close relations with the khanate.

In spite of this threatening situation the petty Central Asian states failed to unite in any common defence against the Russians. Khiva was still repeatedly at war with Khokand until 1873 ; also, quarrels with the Yomut Turcomans never ceased throughout this period. Meanwhile, Bukhara came under the sway of Russia in 1868 ; the tsar's position in the east and the north vis-à-vis Khiva (which was enfeebled by wars, rebellions and frequent changes of ruler) became ever more menacing. It was no surprise that the khanate was only able to use delaying tactics against a Russian attack thrusting in simultaneously from the west, north-west and east, and consequently, after a brief period of fighting, had to surrender to General K. P. Kaufman on 2 June 1873. The dynasty indeed retained its sovereignty, but the khan was not allowed to have dealings with other states, or even with other khanates, and was obliged to have Russian assent to any treaties he made.

In the same year the Turcoman hinterland of Krasnovodsk came under Russian dominion as far as the borders of Khiva and over to the river Atrek. As was to be expected, the nomadic Tekke Turcomans further eastwards, isolated and without support from Persia, were also unable to hold out for any length of time against the Russians who were attacking them from 1879 onwards. After a glorious defence lasting for forty days, their main fortress, Gök-Tepe, fell into the hands of General Skobelev on 24 February (new style) 1881.

The khanate of Khiva was now encircled in every direction by Russian territory, which for all practical purposes included the khanate of Bukhara. Even though the Kungrat dynasty remained formally on the throne until 1920, the last remnants of independent political power had been taken away from Khiva in 1873. Finally, on 31 January 1884 the inhabitants of the northern Murghab valley as far as Mery found themselves obliged to submit to the Russians. After an Afghan intervention on the river Khushk in 1895, the areas of Tash-Köprü and Panj deh (both lying further to the south) came under Russian sovereignty. With this the Russians arrived at the frontier that has remained definitive down to the present day.

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THE GOLDEN HORDE AND ITS SUCCESSORS (Appendix)⁹⁹

Jochi (c. 1176-1227), the eldest son of Chingiz Khan, had been granted the most westerly part of the area dominated by the Mongols as his appanage. At his death this area was divided among his sons. The eldest, Orda, took the most easterly part (including most of what is now Kazakhstan and parts of western Siberia) where his subject clans became known as the ` White', or, occasionally, the ` Blue Horde'. Another son, Shiban, arabicized as Shayban, held a fief to the north of this area, east and south-east of the Urals, around the headwaters of the Irtysh, Ishim and Tobol rivers, from which later emerged the khanate of Sibir. But in the immediate future the most important inheritance was that of the second son, Batu (d. 1255), who was given the most westerly part of Jochi's appanage, in the region of the Emba and Ural rivers. Batu thus became the logical leader of the new western campaign, which was launched in 1236, and which brought under Mongol control the steppe-land to the north of the Black Sea, established Mongol dominion over the Slavic states to the north, ravaged eastern Europe and led to the formation of the political unit known to the Russians, and so to Europe, as the Golden Horde.

Batu's campaign spread fear and horror throughout Europe. The rapidity of the movements of the Mongol troops and their strange appearance contributed to the enduring legend that they represented the imposition of a novel and alien rule. In fact this is a distortion of the truth. The steppes to the north of the Black Sea and their extension into Hungary had, from the earliest times, been under the domination of successive waves of nomadic peoples, most commonly of Turkish origin. Such were the Pechenegs, the Khazars and the Kipchaks (also called Comans or Polovtsians). These Turkish peoples had raided into, and traded with, the surrounding Slavic states. Fundamentally the Mongols were no more than a more powerful and efficient edition of these previous Turkish peoples. Nor, indeed, were they mainly Mongols. The greater part of the clans which constituted Batu's fief were Turks. Although his original army was stiffened by Mongol troops drawn from other fiefs, probably no more than one-third of the 100,000 to 150,000 troops at his

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disposal were Mongols. Many of these Mongols were later withdrawn and in their place Batu gathered up the Kipchak clans like a snowball as he moved. The Golden Horde developed as a basically Turkish unit with a Mongol aristocracy.

After his withdrawal from eastern Europe in 1241 Batu established his winter headquarters at (Old) Saray, about sixty-five miles north of modern Astrakhan. In summer he moved northwards up the banks of the Volga. Other subject groups of Tatar clans (as they came to be called) moved in parallel in other areas of the steppe. The Golden Horde was in being.

Since the Horde was primarily a dominion over men and not over territory, it is difficult to describe its boundaries with precision. In the east they faded into the territories of the White Horde; in the south-east Khwarazm, on the lower Oxus, an area valuable both for trade and as a recruiting ground for administrators, was the subject of disputes both with the Il-Khans and the Chagatays of Central Asia, although usually held by the Horde. In the south the Black Sea and the Caucasus range formed a natural frontier and Derbend usually marked the limit of the power of the Horde. In the west the line of the Carpathians, the Transylvanian Alps and the Balkan mountains demarcated the limits of regular Tatar authority. In the north the boundary followed the geographical division between the steppe zone and the northern forest area. The Russian states of the forest area were outside the Horde but paid tribute to it.

The Russian states provided one of the principal sources of revenue for the Horde. Authority over them was exercised in various ways. In the south-west, around Kiev, the princes were removed and the Horde assumed the administration. More usually the prince was left in charge and controlled by the granting or withholding of patents of authority and by frequent summons to attend the khan in the Horde. Such visits not uncommonly led to the death of the prince. Behind these forms of control lay the ultimate deterrent of a Tatar raid, such as that which destroyed Tver in 1327. But at least while the Horde was strong, during its first hundred years of life, the Russian princes, such as the wily Alexander Nevsky (d. 1263) of Novgorod, and the princes of Moscow, were ready to collaborate. So too was the Russian church, treated with especial favour by the Tatars, and certain groups of merchants, who exploited the new trade-routes which had been opened by the Mongol conquests. After 1360, with the breakdown of the central authority of

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the Horde, the bonds of Tatar authority rapidly loosened, first in western Russia, where the power of the Lithuanian dukes supplanted that of the Horde, and then in eastern Russia, where the lead was taken by the princes of Moscow.

The mailed fist was always conspicuous in Tatar dealings with their Russian vassals. With their other European vassals, the Genoese, and later the Venetian merchants in the Crimea, it was more frequently the velvet glove. The Russian had to pay or suffer; they could not defect. The Italians, however, would go elsewhere if ill-treated. Their trading establishments, centred on Kaffa, provided the pump which accelerated both the profitable east—west trade which passed through the territories of the Horde, and also the interchange of the products of the Horde with those of western Europe, relations between the great Tatar nobles of the Crimea and the Italian merchants were characterized by a continuous, delicate struggle for the lion's share of these commercial profits, until Timür, insensitive to the nuances of this contest, and seeing only Christians defying Muslims, brutally tore the Italians from the Crimean coast.

The Italian merchants also performed an important function in the foreign relations of the Horde. They were one of the agencies through which a steady supply of Tatar slaves from the Kipchak steppes was sold to the Mamluk rulers of Egypt to become mameluks themselves. This profitable trade was one of the two main reasons for the alliance with Egypt which was an enduring feature of the Horde's external policy. The other reason was the common hostility of both powers to the Il-Khans of Persia. The endemic struggle between the two great Mongol powers in the west has never been satisfactorily explained. It has been attributed to the reflexion of struggles for power in Mongolia, and to the earlier conversion of the rulers of the Horde to Islam, although, despite the acceptance of Islam by Berke Khan (655-65/1257-67), Islam was not really established in the Horde until after the accession of Özbeg Khan (712-41/1313-40). Most probably it originated in disputes over authority in Transcaucasia and Azarbâyjan. Its effect was to produce continual unprofitable wars, the drain of resources, and injury to trade.

The importance of the part played by trade in the economic life of the Horde has already been indicated. Historians have always stressed the significance of the position of the Horde at the centre of great international trade-routes, linking China, the Baltic and the Mediterranean.

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It seems clear that a valuable revenue was derived from this trade, and that it provided some of the impetus towards the growth of urban life. But the glamour of this trade has, perhaps, led to an underestimate of the importance of local trade. The Horde was a great producer of animal products, of immense importance in the medieval world, and a great consumer of grain and manufactured goods. This situation led to the growth of centres of exchange such as Saray, the winter capital of the Horde, which developed industries for processing animal products and for producing metal goods. There is evidence that substantial amounts of capital were employed in these industries and something like an artisan group makes a short-lived appearance. Still, the basis of the economy of the Horde remained nomadic stock-breeding, although around the towns there was market-gardening and, in the Crimea, cash-crops were grown for export.

In its political structure the Horde was not an independent state. It was part of the Mongol empire and its rulers owed homage to the great khan. As late as the reign of Özbeg Khan there is evidence that this was still given. But for all practical purposes the khan of the Horde was an independent ruler from the accession of Berke Khan. The title `khan' was normally used, although after 710/ 1310 ‘sultan' was quite common. At the end of the eighth/fourteenth century, Tokhtamish, like one previous ruler, actually employed the title ‘khagan'. The khan was nominally supreme, subject only to the Yasa (i.e. the Law of Chingiz Khan) and later the Shari`a. In practice, however, his power depended upon the extent of his control over the great vassals, known as emirs, both members of the house of Chingiz and chiefs of lower origin but increasing power. Within their own fiefs the great vassals were virtually independent. Some, especially those with access tot he wealth of the Crimea, such as Nogay (d. 699/1299), Mamay, and Edigü (d. 822/1419), wielded power which at times overshadowed that of the khan. Although they were usually kept under control by strong rulers like Batu, Berke, Tokhtu (689-712/1290-1312) and Özbeg Khan, yet, after the death of the last, power passed into the hands of the emirs, who manipulated puppet khans for their own ends. The process was temporarily suspended when a new ruler with outside support, Tokhtamish (d. c. 802/ 1399), ruler of the White Horde, defeated Mamay at the battle of the Kalka in 783/1381. But Tokhtamish's own conflict with Timûr led to the great attacks by the Turks of Central Asia in 792/1390 and 797/1395 which severely injured the economic life of the

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Horde and permanently loosened the bonds of political allegiance which held its vassals in check. After the death of Edigü in 822/1419 the Horde rapidly and finally disintegrated.

The collapse of the Horde led to a situation not unlike that which had prevailed before 633/1236. Throughout the steppelands north of the Black and Caspian Seas roamed large numbers of semi-independent Turkish nomads, under their clan chiefs. In certain favoured areas settled agricultural and commercial life continued, and these areas became the centres of political units which formed rallying points for the steppe-dwellers, and which continued to claim the same rights as the Horde. The most important of these were the khanates of Kazan, Astrakhan and the Crimea, all of which emerge in the latter part of the first half of the ninth/fifteenth century.

The khanate of Kazan is traditionally supposed to have been founded by one Ulugh Muhammad (d. 849/1445-6) in 841/1437, although it seems likely that it may have led an independent existence for some time before that date. It was located on the bend of the middle Volga at the confluence with the Kama, an important grain-producing area, at the junction of the forest and steppe zones, with good communications with surrounding areas. This area had, long before the Mongol invasions, been the centre of the prosperous Bulghar state. The population was Finno-Ugrian, overlaid by Turkish immigrants who formed the military aristocracy. The unassimilated non-Tatar, non-Muslim element in the population was a feature which the Russians were able to exploit in their attempts to control Kazan. This was important because the levying of tribute from Russia, and the organization of raids into the Slavic area, were an important part of the life of the khanate. But the ability of the Kazan khans to enforce their claims on Moscow was limited by the weakness of their own position as they balanced uneasily between the rival claims of their great nobles, the steppe Tatars, the khanates of Astrakhan and the Crimea, Russia and the Ottoman empire, which, from the late ninth/fifteenth century onwards, sought to achieve a predominant influence in the state. However, the khans were still able to launch most destructive attacks on Russian territory, such as that of 927/1521, under Sahib Giray Khan, who declared himself an Ottoman vassal in 929/1523. Russian influence aimed first at trying to maintain a pro-Russian khan. When this failed, an attempt was made to weaken the khanate by detaching the unassimilated elements. When this too was unsuccessful Tsar Ivan the Terrible decided to annex Kazan. The town

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fell on 10 Shawwal 959/2 October 1552, although another five years of bitter struggle was required before the provinces were finally subdued. The importance of Kazan, however, was not ended. Although Russia entirely remodelled the political structure of the khanate, Islam was not attacked and the Tatars of Kazan came to play a very important part in the subsequent relations of Russia with the Muslim peoples to the south.

The khanate of Astrakhan was at the mouth of the Volga. After the break-up of the Horde two organizations emerged in the area of the lower Volga. One, called the Great Horde, which is usually taken to be the rump of the Horde itself, retained some links with Saray and nomadized in the area between the Caspian and the Don. The Great Horde was finally broken up by the Crimean Tatars in about 908/1502, and the allegiance of its clans nominally passed to the second organization, which had grown up around Astrakhan, and is usually supposed to have been founded in 871/1466 by Qasim, grandson of a ruler of the Golden Horde. Astrakhan had some importance as a commercial centre, and several wealthy merchants settled there. Their wealth, indeed, became the bait which attracted the attention of the neighbouring Nogay and Circassian tribes who frequently interfered in the life of the khanate. Like Kazan, the Astrakhan khanate fought on various sides in the confused political struggles of the ninth/fifteenth century, and supplied mercenary troops at times to the rulers of Poland and Russia. But, as with Kazan, Ottoman influence prevailed in the second quarter of the sixteenth century to help to produce a united Tatar front against Russia. The fall of the Kazan shield, however, found the khanate too weak to stand against Russian influence, which in 962/1554 established a puppet khan before final annexation took place in 964/1556.

The most important of the successor states of the Horde was the Crimean khanate. Its origins are obscure. It seems likely that the Crimea enjoyed a substantial independence from the end of the fourteenth century under the family of Hajji Giray (d. 871/1466) who is usually taken to be the founder. In its early years the khanate seems to have acted in co-operation with the Lithuanian dukes of Poland, but after the Ottoman annexation of Kaffa in 880/1475, which enabled the Ottomans to exercise a stranglehold over the economy of the Crimea, the khans became their vassals. None the less, the internal autonomy of the Crimea, the way in which it made Ottoman policy serve the pursuance of its traditional policies of raiding to the north, and the very influential

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position of its Giray rulers, warrants regarding the khanate as a separate, if subordinate, state.

At first the capital of the khanate was still in the steppeland outside the Crimea, but at the end of the ninth/fifteenth century it was moved to Baghche-Saray (Simferopol). In the course of the tenth/sixteenth century there developed a tendency for the Tatars to settle in the Crimea, and the khanate entered upon a period of prosperity. Industries were established, usually in Christian hands ; a flourishing horticultural industry grew up to supply the expanding towns; and commerce was carried on through Kaffa and other ports. An organized bureaucracy emerged to serve the needs of the state. A degree of sophisticated political, economic and social life was developed which was unknown in any other Tatar state. But this was only in the Crimea itself. Among the Nogays of the northern steppes, over whom the Crimean khans exercised authority, the traditional forms of nomadic life prevailed. The Crimean khans also laid claim to power over the Circassians, the Kabardans and occasionally even the Daghistanis of the south-eastern Caucasus, while they possessed appanages within the Ottoman empire in Rumelia.

The khans had little power as khans. Their revenue was slight, and their authority limited not only by the Ottomans, who exercised the right of deposition more frequently in the eleventh/seventeenth and twelfth/ eighteenth centuries, but also by the existence of the great Tatar noble families of the Crimea, such as those of the Shirins and the Mansûrs, who ruled their hereditary independent fiefs. The greatest of the Crimean khans drew their strength from their reputations as war-leaders.

For, despite the appearance of settled government in the Crimea, the khanate, like other Tatar successor states, remained a state organized for, and dependent upon, war. The earlier sporadic raids into Polish and Russian territory became massive expeditions such as that of 978/1570 which burned Moscow. The Crimean Tatars also formed an essential part of the Ottoman armies in south-eastern Europe, operating as light cavalry, scouting and ravaging the countryside around the path of the main force. The khans were able, if adequately subsidized, to put a force of 150,000 to 200,000 in the field.

These continual raids into the exposed southern border territories of Russia forced the tsarist government to organize counter-measures. After two centuries of conflict, Russia finally established herself on the Black Sea and at the treaty of Küchük Kaynarja in 1188/1774 forced the Ottoman government to recognize the independence of the Crimea.

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When this means of controlling the khanate failed it was annexed by Russia in 1197/1783.

The annexation of the Crimea was accompanied by profound changes. Its economy had already been ruined by the removal of the Christian population. Now, although given certain privileges, the Tatars found themselves unable to accept their new, depressed position. The formerly free Tatar peasantry, newly converted to being Russian state peasants, began to follow the nobility into exile. Possibly as much as one-half of the population emigrated to the Ottoman lands in the years which followed annexation. The Giray khans reappeared in Ottoman service for a time as khans of Bujak (southern Bessarabia). The place of the emigrants was taken by Russian peasants, and the Tatars became a minority. The Nogays were removed, first to the Kuban, and subsequently to the steppes to the north of the Sea of Azov and the east of the Volga, where they were eventually converted from nomadism to settled farming under the enlightened government of the émigré Duc de Richelieu.

Two other Tatar states deserve to be mentioned in conclusion, although not actually successor states to the Horde. The khanate of Kasimov was established at Gorodetz on the river Oka in the mid-fifteenth century to guard the southern frontier of the Russian lands, and survived for over two centuries as a Russian puppet Tatar state. The khanate of Sibir grew out of the fiefs of other branches of the Jochid family as an amalgam of Tatar nomads and the Finno-Ugrian peoples of western Siberia. The ruler Kuchum Khan (c.971-1007/1563-98) resisted the famous expedition of the Cossack Yermak in 1579-84 but was ultimately unable to withstand Russian pressure. Russia gradually established full control over the area, which became a springboard for the Russian drive to the Pacific. In more than one sense Russia might be regarded as the last of the successor states of the Horde.

Tsarist Russia and the muslims of central Asia

CHAPTER 8 TSARIST RUSSIA AND THE MUSLIMS OF CENTRAL ASIA ¹⁰⁰

THE RUSSIAN ADVANCE INTO THE KAZAKH STEPPES

The Kazakhs originated as tribal groups which broke away from the hegemony of the Shaybanid, Abu'l-Khayr Khan, in about 870/1465-6, and fled to the Chu river in the Semirech'ye region, where they were protected by the khan of Mughulistan, Esen Bogha. After the death of Abu'l-Khayr in 873 /1468, their nomadic area spread westwards, and they were joined by other Turkish groups. They wandered along the Chu and Talas rivers during the conquests of Muhammad Shaybani Khan (d. 916/1510), and gained control of the region between the Issiq Köl and the Ural river. This vast area was divided into three parts, to provide suitable grounds for three nomadic groups. The nomads of the Yedi-Su (Semirech'ye) region were called the Greater Horde, those between the Irtysh and the Jaxartes the Middle Horde, those further west the Lesser Horde. The Kipchak, Naiman and Kungrat tribes, which subsequently played an important part in the history of Khiva, Bukhara and Khokand, were all members of the Middle Horde. The Kazakh tribes, who were somewhat superficially islamized, sometimes united under a strong khan, but separated again after his death.

Relations between the Kazakh khans and chiefs and the Russians start soon after Ivan the Terrible occupied Kazan khanate (959/1552) and the banks of the Volga. The cities of Tümen, Tobol'sk, Tara and Tomsk, which the Russians founded after they occupied western Siberia, were places on the route of trade with the Kazakhs. The city of Tobol'sk had a special importance in this respect. The caravans coming from the Kazakh province passed through here. The city of Yayitsk on the Ural river, founded in 1620, became a centre of trade with the Kazakhs, besides being a fortress on the Russian border.

During the reign of Peter the Great, the Russians planned to enter eastern Turkistan by going up the Irtysh river. Peter the Great wanted to take over the `gold mines' in eastern Turkistan around Yarkand. For this purpose, a relatively large military force under Buchholtz's command

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started its mission from Tobol'sk in 1715. In 1716 a fortress was founded in Omsk and the troops proceeded further and founded the city and fortress of Semipalatinsk in 1718. Although the Russians changed their minds and did not advance to eastern Turkistan, the fortresses that they founded played an important part in controlling Kazakh tribes and the areas of Jungaria and Kulja which were under Chinese rule up to that time. The Irtysh defence line that stretched from Semipalatinsk to Omsk and Tobol'sk became the border of Russia in Central Asia, and later on it functioned as the starting line for forward operations.

Towards the middle of the twelfth/eighteenth century a strong Kalmuk (Oirat) state had formed in Jungaria. Part of the Kalmuks entered the territory of the Kazakhs, obtained Russian protection and went along the Idil river. A large group of Kalmuks unexpectedly attacked the Kazakh tribes in 1723. During this attack, which is known as ` the terrible disaster', Greater and Middle Horde Kazakhs were annihilated in masses. They were deprived of the best pastures along the Chu and Talas. Their herds were taken by the Kalmuks, and this led to a great famine.

While the Greater and Middle Hordes fell under the domination of the Kalmuks, the leaders of the Lesser Horde assumed that the way to avoid disaster was to seek Russian protection. The messengers of Abu'l-Khayr Khan went to St Petersburg. This appeal was most congenial to the Russian government, which could thus acquire the Kazakh steppes without effort. A large group of envoys from St Petersburg visited Abu'l-Khayr Khan in 1731 and demanded an oath of loyalty. Some of the Kazakh leaders rejected this, but Abu'l-Khayr Khan and the majority of the chiefs accepted Russian suzerainty. While the Kazakhs considered this just a matter of formality, the Russians took it very seriously and began to reinforce their supremacy in the steppes of Kazakhs. As a reaction to this, there were some uprisings, but the Kazakhs could not stop the Russian advance.

After the Lesser Horde tribes, it was then the turn of the Middle Horde to be brought under Russian suzerainty. The resistance of one or two sultans was suppressed, and the Middle Horde accepted Russian protection in 1740. By this time the Kalmuks in Jungaria had gained strength, and some of the Middle Horde Kazakh tribes accepted their domination. But when Jungaria fell into the hands of the Chinese in the years 1753-5, there was no longer any Kalmuk danger to the Russians. As a result, the Middle Horde and some tribes of the Greater Kazakhs

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were brought under Russian rule. From then on, Russian `protection' over the Kazakhs gradually took the form of oppression.

When Abu'l-Khayr Khan accepted Russian protection, he had assumed that no harm would come to the property of the Kazakhs. But this was not so. The Russian Cossacks living along the Ural river attacked the Lesser Horde Kazakhs and carried away their herds and even the men themselves. Apart from this, the Russian government interfered in the internal affairs of the Lesser Horde. They adopted the policy of appointing heads of tribes who would be loyal to them. But this policy created reaction, and increased the antagonism of the Kazakhs towards the Russians. Indeed, when the Bashkir Turks launched an uprising in 1755 many of the Kazakhs fought with them against the Russians.

A good example of the antagonism towards the Russians is the struggle of Sirim Batir, who belonged to the Lesser Horde. This struggle, which took place between 1774 and 1797, seemed to be directed against the khan of the Horde, but was actually against Russian oppression. Sirim Batir fought for nearly twenty-five years in order to save the Kazakh tribes. He intended to join the Kazakh tribes with Bukhara, Khiva and the Turcomans in order to make a joint front against the Russians, but it was not possible for the Turkish Islamic groups to reach agreement with each other.

After Sirim Batir's withdrawal from the scene, Russian pressure on the Kazakhs gradually increased. Their khans were no longer elected by the tribal leaders, but appointed by the Russian government. When the khan of the Middle Horde died in 1819, the Russians did not appoint a successor. In 1822 the Russian government abolished the khanate of the Middle Horde by decree. In 1824 the khan of the Lesser Horde was dismissed, and this territory was also attached to Russia. The Middle Horde was divided into three regions and a `sultan' was appointed to each region by the Russian government.

In this way, by the 1840s the whole of the Kazakh country was taken under Russian rule, and the borders of Russia had reached Turkistan. The Russian defence lines, fortresses and patrol stations controlled a vast area stretching from Semipalatinsk to the Ural river. Suitable conditions for an attack on the khanates of Khiva, Bukhara and Khokand had been created. However, Russian pressure on the Kazakh tribes sometimes caused reactions, and there were some large uprisings. The most important of these was the one directed by Kine-Sari in the years

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1837-47. But none of these risings was successful. The Russians suppressed them all very easily with their superior forces and modern weapons. It was impossible for the nomadic Kazakhs alone to resist the tsarist forces. Now it was the turn of the khanates of Bukhara, Khiva and Khokand.

THE RUSSIAN ANNEXATION OF CENTRAL ASIA (TURKISTAN)

After the fall of the Kazan khanate in 959/1552 it was certain that Russia would expand towards the east and the south until she met resistance. The acquisition of Siberia had been a matter of invasion. As mentioned above, the Kazakh steppes were also easily taken. The rapidly developing industry and capitalism in Russia in the middle of the nineteenth century would certainly have tried to find new fields of activity. The activities developed in the form of imperialism with the purpose of obtaining the cotton of Turkistan and also of reaching as far as India. Therefore Russian expansion was in the direction of Turkistan, and from here on the Russian borders expanded by the end of the nineteenth century all the way to the foothills of the Himalayas without meeting any resistance. In this way, ancient centres of Islamic civilization, Bukhara, Samarqand and Khiva, the region formerly known as Khwârazm, could not resist the Russian forces from the north, and had to submit.

Diplomatic and commercial relations between Russia and Central Asia developed in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries. The cotton and silk products of Turkistan and especially Persian lamb were much favoured in Russia for a long time. Western European products entered Bukhara via Russia, and the products of India and Afghanistan were sent to Russia via Turkistan. There were two main trade-routes that connected Russia and Central Asia at the end of the eighteenth century. The oldest one reached the Caspian Sea via the Volga and then Khiva and Bukhara via Mangishlak. The second route made a connexion with Orenburg via Tashkent and the Jaxartes. There was also another route that reached Tashkent via Semipalatinsk and Kizilyar (Petropavlovsk), passing through the Kazakh steppes. Tashkent thus became a commercial centre of increasing importance.

Russian trade with Turkistan developed rapidly at the beginning of the nineteenth century. Between 18o i and 18 zo Russian trade with the khanates of Turkistan rose from one million to four million roubles. Within the same period the exports of Turkistan to Russia rose from two

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million to six million roubles. The increase in trade dominated the development of relations between Russia and the khanates. The most important market for the products of Turkistan was the famous fair of the Russians on the Volga (at the modern Gor'kiy, formerly known as Nizhniy Novgorod). Merchants from all over Turkistan, especially from Bukhara, came here and brought large amounts of cotton goods and Persian lamb with them. Turkistan cotton was particularly important for the Russians. As the textile industry in Russia developed, the desire of Russian capitalist circles to acquire Turkistan became stronger. However, the Russian government was busy with other problems, and therefore postponed attention to the occupation of Turkistan.

Between the years 1830 and 1840 British trade in Central Asia suddenly developed in competition with the Russians. The Russian government was suspicious of British activities, and began sending commissions to study the situation of the Central Asian khanates. These commissions gathered detailed information about Khiva and especially Bukhara. Furthermore, they also determined the routes and places which had military significance. The Russians moved towards Central Asia in 1847 by building the fortress of Raimsk (Aral'sk) at the estuary of the Jaxartes.

The appointment of General Perovskiy as the governor of Samara and Orenburg in 1851 was quite significant. He was in favour of immediate military action. Indeed, a year later Russian operations along the Jaxartes to the south started and they founded a patrol station at Ghazali (Kazalinsk). In 1852, they attacked Ak-Mesjid, a castle built by the Khokand khanate. The commander of the fortress, Ya`qûb Bey (later known as Badevlet Ya`qûb Bey, the ruler of Kashgar) fought fiercely against the Russians, and caused them to suffer large casualties. But it was impossible to oppose the Russian guns, and Ak-Mesjid was occupied in 1853. After this the way to Tashkent was open. It was now obvious that the Russians were determined to occupy Central Asia, and indeed plans for the invasion of Central Asia were discussed and concluded at a meeting attended by Tsar Nicholas I in person.

However, the outbreak of the Crimean War in 1853 deferred the realization of these plans, while the Russian defeat in that war immediately reduced their prestige in Turkistan. Some Ottoman Turkish agents who were sent to Khiva and Bukhara, made an appeal to the people of Turkistan to unite, and probably also promised military aid,

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which was discussed by an envoy from Khiva who was in Istanbul for some time. The British also sent agents to Bukhara. and Khiva, and tried unsuccessfully to win over their rulers. As far as is known, neither military equipment nor a military commission came to Khiva or Bukhara from the Ottomans. Even though the Russians were defeated in the Crimea, nothing happened in Central Asia to weaken their position there.

After the Treaty of Paris (1856) the Russian government took up the problem of Turkistan again. First of all, immediate measures were to be taken to stop British activities in the Central Asian khanates and to develop Russian trade. A commission headed by Colonel Ignat'yev was sent to Khiva and Bukhara in 1858. Ignat'yev's mission ended in complete failure in Khiva. The Russians were given a cool reception, and they could not obtain the trade concessions they desired. However, Nag Allah, the emir of Bukhara, received Ignat'yev's commission warmly, since he was inclined towards the Russians, and he gave them some commercial privileges. In spite of this, the Russians could not get what they had hoped for. On the other hand, they identified the military roads and places of strategic importance. It is possible that this was the primary object of Ignat'yev's mission.

Internal problems connected with the emancipation of the serfs by Alexander II delayed operations directed towards Turkistan, as did the war with Shaykh Shamil in the Caucasus, which ended in 1864. On the other hand, it has been suggested that the American Civil War also pressed the Russians to invade Central Asia, since all imports of cotton from America had stopped, and Russian factories could only obtain their cotton from Turkistan. Hence, if the Russians occupied Turkistan, they could get cotton more abundantly and cheaply, and Russian industrialists may have encouraged the government in its invasion schemes. It was obvious that the Central Asian khanates could be easily occupied. It was not probable that the British would stop this Russian venture. In the light of these considerations the Russian government decided at the end of 1864 on occupation.

The Russian foreign minister, Gorchakov, sent a memorandum to the ambassadors in St Petersburg on 21 November 1864, announcing that the Russian government was going to take measures to provide security and civilization for the people who lived in the areas of Central Asia under Russian rule. He added that these measures did not mean an indefinite expansion, and the Russians would not go further than

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Chimkent, just beyond Tashkent. This note was intended to pacify the British, and to reassure them that Russia had no claims on India. According to these explanations, the first Russian target was to establish a defence line from the Ili to the Jaxartes. A young general, Chernyayev, had been commissioned for this task. Actually the Russian military operation had started before Gorchakov's note.

General Chernyayev occupied Chimkent city by a sudden attack in September 1864. He wanted to do the same at Tashkent, but his army was driven back. However, a year later, in the summer of 1865, a military force of 1,95o men and twelve guns under Chernyayev's command attacked the city. Tashkent, with a population of 80,000, belonged to the Khokand khanate. There were about 30,000 soldiers and sixty-three guns in the city; but the soldiers had neither discipline, able commanders, nor modern weapons, and Tashkent was occupied in June 1865 . The Russians had hardly any casualties. The event had great repercussions throughout Turkistan, and predetermined the end of the three khanates in Central Asia.

However, the emir of Bukhara, Nasr Allah (1826-6o), wanted to stop the Russian advance and even retake Tashkent with his improvized army. The forces of Bukhara suffered a great defeat in May 1866. However, the main blow of the Russians was directed towards the Khokand khanate. In May 1866 the cities of Khojand and then Ura-Tübe were taken by the Russians. The entire area acquired in these campaigns was annexed to Russia, and a governorate-general of Turkistan was established in 1867. General K. P. Kaufman (von Kauffmann), who was of German origin, was appointed governor-general. The area was divided into two parts : Syr-Dar'ya province, with Tashkent as its capital, and Semirech'ye province. General Kaufman was given great authority. He could declare war, make treaties and take all kinds of administrative action. During his governor-generalship (1867-82) he played a great part in the establishment of Russian rule and administration in Turkistan.

General Kaufman's main purpose was to render the Bukhara khanate harmless in regard to Russia. The annexation of the khanate was not actually in view. The Russians would be content to have places of strategic importance under their rule. A military operation started in 1868 with this purpose. On I May, Samarqand was taken by the Russians without any resistance. The impotence of Muzaffar al-Din, the emir of Bukhara, against the Russians aroused great indignation among his people. 'Abd al-Malik, the emir's son, declared a jihad against the

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Russians, and his men occupied the city of Samarqand. But the Russian garrison retreated into the inner fortress, and resisted the large numbers of local people. Finally General Kaufman's relieving forces overwhelmed Malik's men.

Further resistance was impossible for Bukhara, and Muzaffar al-Din signed a treaty with General Kaufman, according to which Khojand, Ura-Tube, Jizak and Samargand with their surroundings were given to the Russians. The whole of this area was annexed to the governorate-general of Turkistan. Apart from this, the emir was to pay a war-indemnity of 500,000 roubles, recognize full freedom of action for Russian merchants in Bukhara, and ban the slave-trade. Five years later, in 1873, a peace treaty was signed between Russia and Bukhara. With this treaty Bukhara accepted Russian protection. It was left autonomous in internal affairs, but the Russians were given many financial privileges. The emir was forbidden to establish relations with foreign countries. In this way, the Bukhara khanate finally lost its independence.

However, the resistance against the Russians was not completely broken. The emir of Shahr-i Sabz and certain other princes rebelled against the Emir Muzaffar al-Din, and declared 'Abd al-Malik to be khan. But the struggle did not last long. The Russian forces came to the support of the emir, and annexed the provinces where the uprisings had taken place to the Bukhara khanate, and thus Muzaffar al-Din's position was restored. The Russian policy was to flatter the emirs of Bukhârâ, and in return the emirs were to be completely loyal to the tsar.

The Russian advance was not made only in western Turkistan. In 1870 there was an uprising against the Chinese near Kulja, in Jungaria. The local people who lived here were Muslim Dungens, Kazakhs, Kirghizes, and Turks from eastern Turkistan. Some time before this, Ya`qûb Bey (who had fiercely defended the fortress at Ak-Mesjid in 1853) had founded a state of his own in the territory of eastern Turkistan, with Kashgar as his capital. Ya`qûb Bey made contact with the British and Ottoman governments and accepted the protection of Sultan 'Abd ül-`Aziz, and even had coins minted in his honour. An Ottoman military commission had come to Kashgar to train Ya`qûb Bey's army, and a certain amount of weapons was received from the British. The Russians were suspicious of this. They decided to occupy Kulja and started their operations in 1871. The Kulja region was under Russian rule for ten years. When the Chinese reoccupied Kashgar in 1881 the Russians deserted Kulja, and the border with China was left as before.

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After the Bukhara khanate had been taken under Russian protection, it was merely a matter of time for the Khiva khanate to end in the same way. Indeed, a military force of considerable strength under General Kaufman entered the Khiva khanate from five different positions in the summer of 1873. The people of Khiva wanted to resist but they were not able to continue. The khan of Khiva, Muhammad Rahim, accepted all the conditions imposed by General Kaufman, and signed a treaty in 1873. According to this treaty, the Khiva khanate maintained its internal autonomy and became a protected state. The Russians held financial and military control, and Khiva was not to have relations with foreign countries. In this way, the Khiva khanate also lost its independence.

It was now the Khokand khanate's turn. At this period Khokand was ruled by Khan Khudayar, who was disliked by everybody because of his failings. The Kipchaks were especially resentful of his oppression. When in 1875 the Kipchaks made an uprising, Khan Khudâyâr escaped from Khokand, and his son Nasir al-Din was brought to the throne. The Russians were believed to be involved in the unrest, and a jihad was declared against them. The uprising spread not only to Farghanâ, but also to the area under Russian rule. The Russians intervened with organized forces against Khokand, which in a short time was badly defeated. The city of Khokand was occupied, and the khanate was officially abolished. All its territory was annexed to Russia in 1876.

In this way, the Russians occupied all Turkistan in the decade following the fall of Tashkent. The main reason for the Russian success was that the khanates did not have the means to protect themselves. It was impossible to resist the Russian army with improvized forces and inefficient weapons. The five or six million Turks in Central Asia, especially the people of Bukhara, had remained untrained as warriors. On the other hand, Turcomans, who were fewer in numbers but able in fighting, were brought under control with considerable difficulty.

The Russian province of Transcaspia lay to the east of the Caspian Sea, with Krasnovodsk as its capital. In 1 877 the Russians started a military operation to bring the Tekke Turcomans under control, using Turcoman plundering at Mangishlak as an excuse. A military force of 11,000 men and 107 guns started an operation from Krasnovodsk in 1880 under the command of General Skobelev, who had proved himself in the liquidation of the Khokand khanate. The Russian army marched against the fortified positions of the Tekke Turcomans at Gök-Tepe, which was attacked on 15 January 1881. The Turcomans put up a fierce resistance,

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but were defeated, and their leader Tikma Serdar surrendered. The total Russian casualties were 398, and the resistance of the Tekke Turcomans and the war of Gök-Tepe became an epic in Turkistan.

Naturally this local resistance could not stop the Russian advance. All the Turcoman tribes submitted. The city of Mery fell in 1884 and the Russians reached the borders of Afghanistan. The Afghan forces, which had some British officers, and the Russians fought in March 1885, and the Afghan forces were drawn back. When, in 1888, an Anglo-Russian Boundary Commission completed the demarcation of the border between Afghanistan and Russia, the Russian advance in Central Asia came to an end.

From time to time the British had opposed the occupation of Central Asia by the Russians. They never liked the Russian advance towards India, and they wanted to stop the Russian occupation of the Khiva, Bukhârâ and Khokand khanates. They sent British agents to encourage the local people to resist, but no other serious steps were taken. It is not clear that British diplomacy had any success in the khanates. As a matter of fact, the attitude and behaviour of the British in India were known in Bukhara, and made a bad impression. Little reliance was placed by the emir of Bukhara on the messages sent to him by the governor-general of India. On the other hand, the Russians were very tactful in their contacts with the people of Turkistan, and they did much to win the local people. The emir of Bukhara was highly praised in the messages sent by the Russian authorities, who thus had a psychological advantage over the British.

After the demarcation of the boundary between Afghanistan and Russia, the Russians fortified and garrisoned Kushka, near the border. Some time later, this place was connected to the Krasnovodsk-Samargand railroad. In 1907 a convention was signed between Britain and Russia which contained a formula for the satisfaction of both parties.

THE KHANATES OF BUKHARA AND KHIVA UNDER RUSSIAN RULE

After the treaties that were signed between the Russians and the emir of Bukhara, Muzaffar al-Din, in 1862 and 1873, the khanate was left as a Russian protectorate. It was completely independent in its internal affairs, and the old organization was not changed. However, when the construction of a railroad from Krasnovodsk to Samargand and Tashkent was begun, the Russians were not slow to acquire the territory

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of the khanate. Russian towns were built along the railroad, and Russian guards were placed at the Afghanistan-Bukhara border. Before long, Russian soldiers were placed in cities which belonged to Bukhara. The Russians even attempted for a time to forbid the emir to mint money. All the coins minted in the emir's name were under the control of the Russian Bank, and the Russians took control of economic life. On the other hand, they did not interfere in religious affairs, or the schools and medreses. In the opinion of the Russians, these institutions were the best means of letting Bukhara rot from inside. Their policy was fundamentally opposed to permitting any progress to enter Bukhara or the Islamic community in Central Asia.

In the reign of 'Abd al-Abad (1885-191o), who succeeded his father, Muzaffar al-Din, Bukhara became a complete satellite of Russia. 'Abd al-Abad was most loyal to Tsars Alexander III and Nicholas II, and he did nothing to arouse suspicion. In reward, he was given the rank of adjutant-general, and was furnished with 2,000 old-fashioned rifles and some guns to equip the army of Bukhara. However, Emir 'Abd al-Abad was not altogether indifferent to new ideas and movements. His toleration of a few usûl--u jedid (` new method') schools is proof of this. He was very economical, but contributed an important part of the cost of the mosque in St Petersburg, as well as a considerable amount of money for the construction of the Hijâz railway.

Sayyid `Alim, who succeeded his father in 191o, showed full loyalty to the Russians. In spite of his Russian education, he was very reactionary. The Emir Sayyid `Alim was not behind his father and grandfather in increasing his personal wealth. All the cotton factories were in his hands, and the cotton-growers had to sell their produce to him at a low price. The emir sold this cotton to the Russians, and made a big profit. He completely monopolized the most important commercial product of Bukhara, Persian lamb. There was corruption in the internal administration. In this way, those in power in Bukhara were preparing their own downfall. In 1915 the Russian government had practically decided to abolish the Bukhara and Khiva khanates, and take them under direct rule, but because of the First World War this could not be carried out. The Khiva khanate was in an even worse situation than Bukhârâ. Contact between the Russian government and the emir of Bukhara was made through the Foreign Ministry, but the Khiva khanate was under the local Russian administration of Turkistan. The khan of Khiva, Muhammad Rabim, was most loyal to the tsar. His son, Isfandiyâr

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Khan, took his place in 1910. Both Muhammad Rahim and Isfandiyar were progressive rulers; moreover, Isfandiyâr Khan knew Russian, and he followed both Russian and Muslim publications. He was well-informed about the facts of the world. Isfandiyâr Khan made some efforts to open usûl-u jedid schools in Khiva, and invited some well-known teachers from Kazan. There was not much change in the internal administration of the khanate, but there was some progress in the cultural field. Isfandiyar Khan was unnecessarily involved in a dispute with the Turcomans, and was killed in 1918. After his death there was unrest in Khiva, and finally `Young Khivans', who were supported by the Bolshevik forces in Russia, took possession of Khiva and started to sovietize it.

CENTRAL ASIA UNDER TSARIST RULE

Between the years 1865 and 1886, the Russians acquired an area of two million square kilometres. The administration of this territory (which had a population of seven to eight millions, ninety per cent of whom were Turkish Muslims) faced the Russians with some new problems¹⁰¹.

There was a great difference between the occupation of Central Asia and previous Russian acquisitions. Since the Volga and Ural regions were adjacent to Russia, it had been quite easy to colonize and administer them. Western Siberia was taken by the Cossacks under Yermak. Central and eastern Siberia were occupied by Russian hunters, pioneers and Cossacks. Only then was the Russian state administration established in these areas. The steppes of the Turkish Kazakhs were annexed to Russia by their own request, and geographical conditions there were not attractive to Russian colonists. But the occupation of Central Asia was the result of state military action.

The administration of Central Asia was therefore attached to the Russian Ministry of War, which appointed a governor-general to rule the area. New administrative regions were established as the conquest advanced. At the beginning, the Russians treated the people of the occupied area very kindly. The traditions, law and the law courts of the people were left just as they were. Some time later, they started the implementation of some principles of Russian policy. One of these was the change in the way of electing the ak-sakals, that is, the village headmen. Before the Russian invasion, the ak-sakals were chosen by the people of the village according to their merits and without a limited term of office. But afterwards they were elected for a term of three years, and had to be

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approved by the administrative authorities. In this way, the village administration was put under Russian control.

On the other hand, the Russians did not interfere with the way of life, religion or the language of the people. The Shari`a was retained. According to the opinion of Kaufman, Islam represented a decaying culture : it was destroying itself, and interference with it was unnecessary. However, in the views of the local people, this Russian policy was considered a virtue. As a result of another Russian policy, the local people were freed from military obligations. Although the Russians tried to present this as a privilege, their reason was to avoid the possibility of armed resistance.

The people under Russian rule had very little contact with the Russians. Even in the cities the Russians lived in their own districts. But the seizure of the most fertile land, the constant arrival of Russian immigrants, the imposition of new taxes and obligations, the railway which crossed the country from one end to the other, were all obvious signs of Russian sovereignty. The aim of Russian policy was to supply cotton to the Russian factories, and find room for the migration of Russian peasants into Central Asia.

The export of cotton from Turkistan to Russia in 1900 was five million poods (1 pood is equal to 16-38 kilograms), and by 1915 it rose to 18.5 million poods. The cultivation of cotton in Turkistan increased and became compulsory in many instances. Meanwhile the cultivation of wheat declined at the same rate, as the Russians wanted to make the people of Turkistan dependent on Russian wheat. While the export of wheat from Russia to Turkistan was 33,000 tons in 1908, it rose to 227,000 tons in 1912, and 354,000 tons in 1916. Without these exports, the people of Turkistan would have starved. The urban population was especially dependant on Russian wheat.

The settlement of Russian and Ukrainian peasants in Central Asia was one of the most important aims of Russian colonialism. Russian Cossacks had already been settled in the Semirech'ye area since 1855. Attempts were made to seize the land of the Kazakhs and Kirghiz for this purpose. The seizure of land increased progressively and between the years 188o and 1900, 11,610,000 dessiatinas(1 dessiatina is equal to 1.09 hectares) of land were distributed to the Russian Cossacks. By 1917, the total area of land acquired in this way was more than 3o million dessia-tinas, and the number of Russian immigrants reached 1.5 million. They were concentrated especially in the cities. There were cities like Vernyi

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(now Alma-Ata) which were populated exclusively by Russians, and also some new cities were constructed for the Russians besides the old ones. Tashkent is a classical example of this. According to the statistics of 191o, the population of Tashkent was 201,000, and of these 55,000 were Russians. The Russian section with all its European appearance of broad streets, squares, parks and buildings was entirely different from the typical oriental city of the local people, where the streets were narrow, the houses of mud bricks and insanitary.

It was in the interests of the Russians to propagate their culture in Central Asia in order to win sympathizers for the new administration. The Russian administrators considered this matter as early as 1873, and some principles were determined then. The conversion of the people in the khanates of Bukhârâ, Khiva and Khokand to Orthodox Christianity (as had been done in Kazan), could not be considered at all. Indoctrination in Russian culture would be possible first of all by teaching the Russian language. It was decided to open schools for the Özbegs, Sarts and Kazakhs, where the teaching would be in Russian, and the graduates of these schools would proceed to Russian higher grade schools. Experiments of this kind had been made with the Kazakhs in the province of Semirech'ye with some positive results. Russo-native schools, which were opened with great expectations on the part of the Russian administrators, did not achieve what was expected of them. Very few of the local people sent their children to these schools, because they were afraid that the children would be converted. Still, there were some who went to these schools, and even some who received a higher education. The few Kazakh and Özbeg lawyers were from among them.

The people of Turkistân never really took to the Russian administration, but they showed submission because they were obliged to. The continuation of risings against the Russians was a clear expression of this dissatisfaction. One of these risings was headed by Dukchi Ishan of Andijân in 1898, who even sent, unsuccessfully, to Istanbul to ask for aid. This was followed by another rising in 1916. During the First World War, the Russians increased the pressure on the local people; they had levied great amounts of money in various ways, and introduced new obligations. Although the men of Turkistân were exempt from military service, those between the ages of nineteen and forty-three were ordered by an edict of 1916 to be conscripted for labour duties. This decision by the Russian government created great resentment and shortly afterwards the rising began.

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The first to rise were the Kirghiz, immediately followed by the Kazakhs and the Özbegs, and the movement became widespread. The Kipchak and Naiman tribes were the leaders. The tribes in revolt formed an organization and chose as their leader 'Abd al-Ghaffâr Khan of the Kipchaks. The area of Lake Issyk-kul, and especially around Jizak, was the stronghold of the uprising. The movement spread from Farghânâ to Talas, and from there to Samargand. Its participants were determined to annihilate everything Russian. The houses of the Russian colonists were burned, their property and herds were taken away, and they themselves were killed. 4,725 Russians were killed (2,222 from among the immigrants), 2,683 Russians were reported lost, and 9,000 houses were destroyed.

The Russian suppression of this rising was just as violent. A large military force was brought to Turkistân, withdrawing reinforcements of considerable importance which would have gone to the German front. It is reported that the number of people killed in Semirech'ye alone was 205,000, while 300,000 people took refuge in Chinese territory. Of those captured, 168,000 men and women are said to have been sentenced to death.

The governor-general Kuropatkin ordered all Kirghiz living in the area of Lake Issyk-kul, and along the Chu and Naryn rivers to be banished, but before this order was carried out the revolution of February 1917 took place. In spite of the revolution, the fight between the Kirghiz, Kazakhs and Russians went on. Many of the Kazakhs did not submit to the Russians, and went on fighting. On the other hand, the Russian soldiers who were sent to Turkistân to suppress the rising became the support of the Bolshevik revolution, and played an important part in the Bolsheviks' victory and their control of Tashkent in 1918.

The conscripts whose levy had caused the rising of 1916 did not reach the front and were not used for labour duties. They must have returned home following the February Revolution and the consequent dissolution of the Russian army.

THE LIFE OF THE PEOPLE IN TURKISTâN UNDER TSARIST RULE

After the Russian occupation, there was no fundamental difference in the lives of the people who lived in the territory annexed to Russia or who lived under the Bukhârâ khanate. However, in cities where Russians were numerous, they undoubtedly influenced the local people.

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Educated Russians considered themselves to be the representatives of European civilization, and therefore thought themselves superior to the Özbegs, Sarts, Kazakhs and Kirghiz. On the other hand, the Russians were considered as usurpers by the local people, and could not possibly win their sympathy. In the views of the conservatives, they were above all enemies of religion. The `ulemâ' and other religious leaders were especially antagonistic towards the Russians. Some groups, however, especially the merchants, were happy with the Russian rule to some degree, since there were more opportunities for profit-making. Those who learned Russian, or were educated in Russian schools, got along better with the Russians, but the number of such people was very small.

This general antagonism of the people of Turkistan towards the Russians gave birth to nationalist feelings, which did not previously consciously exist. Formerly the dominant bond in Central Asia was membership of a social class or tribe. The suppression of the Özbegs, Kazakhs, Kirghiz, Turcomans and the citizens of Bukhara and Khiva by the Russians resulted in the rapprochement of the various Turkish Muslim groups, and created a national awareness. This development was partly due to a common culture and tradition. But the most effective movement in this field was the usûl-u jedid (‘new method') which was started by Ismail Gasprali (Gasprinskiy) of the Crimea. Ismail Gasprali was influential even in Turkistan with the newspaper Terjumân, which he began to publish in Baghche-Saray in 1883. Kazan Tatar teachers, whom the usstl--u jedid movement influenced most, were also active in the cities of Turkistan. Many Kazan Tatar families had moved to Turkistan after the Russian invasion, and the schools with new methods which they started became models for the people. It is certain that these Tatar schools were even more effective than the Russians in regard to spreading Western civilization.

Of those who started the usûl--u jedid movement in Turkistan, the Kazakh Ibray (Ibrahim) Altinsarin, who was educated in a Russian school, is one of the most important. He continued his activities as late as 1883. But the person who provided the greatest service in this field is Münevver Kari, who was a religious student from Tashkent, and later on a teacher. In 1901 Münevver Kari opened an upil--u jedid school in Tashkent, which continued for quite a long time in spite of pressure from the Russians and conservative Muslim scholars, and played a great role in the awakening of the people of Turkistan. As a result of his activities, the number of usir/-u jedid schools reached twelve in Tashkent, five in

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Bukhara, two in Samarqand, seventeen in the province of Semirech'ye, and thirteen in the Khokand area in 1913. This movement was concentrated especially in Tashkent, Bukhara and Andijan. The survival of usûl-u jedid in places like Bukhara, where religious reaction was dominant, was due to the assistance or tolerance of some influential people: 'Abd al-Abad, the emir of Bukhara and his minister of justice supported the usûl--u jedid to some extent, but the movement did not become a public one in Bukhara and other parts of Turkistan as it had in Kazan, Persian Azarbayjan or the Crimea.

The Russian revolution of 1905 had little significance in Turkistan, producing only a demonstration of Russian workers in Tashkent, and no reaction among the local people. They had lost their right to vote after the second State Duma (1907), and were excluded from the political life of Russia. Only afterwards did the Russian political parties in Turkistan establish local relations, but the number of Özbegs and Kazakhs who joined the Russian parties could not be more than three or four.

The Kazak newspaper, first published in 1913 by Kazakh intellectuals, reported the political movements and economic problems of the time. It pointed to the economic and political rights of the Kazakhs, and implicitly demanded an end to Russian exploitation. The Alash Orda party which was founded some time before, and which had a completely nationalist nature, indicated that by then political activities had started among the Kazakh Turks, but such movements were just at the beginning and far from producing any serious results.

The influence of the Committee of Union and Progress (Young Turks) which came to power after the revolution of 1908 in the Ottoman empire, also had a great influence on the young people of Turkistan. There had long been a Bukhara convent (tekke) in Istanbul, and many of the people who came to Istanbul from Turkistan used to stay there. Apart from the pilgrims who came and went, the number of students who came to Istanbul for their education was on the increase. In 1910 the Terbiye-i atfâl society (‘society for the education of children') which was secretly founded in Bukhara, decided to send students to study in Istanbul, and collected donations for this purpose. Fifteen students were sent to Istanbul in 1911, and the number reached thirty in 1912.

`Abd al-Rabman Fitrat, Muqim al-Din and ‘Osman Khója, who were well-known poets and writers among the Özbegs in Istanbul, met with the Young Turk leaders, and received information especially on the

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purposes and activities of the party. Fitrat the poet wrote two pamphlets criticizing the situation in Bukhara, and had them published in Istanbul. The young people of Bukhara who came to Istanbul for their education observed the new movements, and many of the intellectuals who had new ideas and were later known as `Young Bukharans' were the products of Istanbul. A society for the propagation of education in Bukhara was also founded in Istanbul.

At the beginning, these societies were only engaged in educational problems, but they were soon involved in politics. The national problems which developed among the Kazakhs of âzarbayjan, Kazan and the Turkish Kazakhs were soon to develop in Bukhara and other parts of Turkistan as well.

When the revolution of February 1917 started, the rising of 1916 had not been fully suppressed. There was still some fighting going on in the mountainous areas. But the Russians were in control of the situation, and were punishing the participants in the revolt. The news about the revolution reached Turkistan quite slowly, and the governor-general, Kuropatkin, did not want to announce it publicly ‘until the situation became clear'. But since the news had leaked out by way of the telegraph officials, it was obvious that it could not be kept secret any longer. Finally, Kuropatkin announced on 12 March that the tsarist régime in Russia had been abolished and a republic had been founded. After this, the Russian political parties in Tashkent began to emerge. On 17 March, a Workers' and Soldiers' Soviet was founded, following the example of Petrograd and other cities. Soon, this organization began controlling the administration. Bolshevik propaganda came to dominate the Soviet, which gradually moved leftwards. The railway workers in Tashkent, and the Russian soldiers sent to suppress the 1916 revolt, were especially supporters of the Bolsheviks. The strength of the leftist group was shown in the great demonstration held in Tashkent on 12 September 1917. Kerensky's Provisional Government was completely helpless, as in all other parts of Russia. The local people were rather indifferent to the entire process. In these circumstances the October (Bolshevik) revolution occurred.

Following the 1917 revolution some movements began among the Muslims of Turkistan. Since there no longer was any censorship, newspapers and journals began publishing articles in the spirit of the revolution and on the subject of freedom. Following the Russians, the Muslim people also began holding meetings and congresses, such as the

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first All-Muslim Congress held in April 1917 in Tashkent, where much was said about freedom and reforms. It was decided that Russia should become a federated republic, and Turkistan should be given autonomy. Problems concerning religion and land were discussed, and some decisions were reached, among which, the cessation of Russian immigration was given special importance. Naturally, all these decisions were theoretical, since there was neither the personnel nor the means for their implementation.

At this time the Kazakhs and Özbegs in various cities were holding congresses, and taking decisions on matters concerning themselves. The largest of these was the first All-Russian Muslim Congress held in Moscow from 1 to 11 May 1917, with nearly Soo delegates. At this congress, which was arranged through the efforts and finance of the Kazan Tatars, religious and cultural problems were discussed, rather than political matters. The only organization of the Muslims of Russia up to this time was the Religious Council in Ufa, and this fact played an important part.

One of the problems which was discussed at length was the administration of the Muslims of Russia. There were two schools of thought on this matter. One of them, composed of Kazan Tatars and northern Caucasians, were content with national and cultural autonomy. The other school, mainly representatives from Azarbayjan and a majority of Bashkirs, proposed territorial autonomy on a federal basis. The latter view was finally accepted by 446 votes against 271. The people of Turkistan were also in favour of a federation. But there were no means of implementing the decisions taken at the Congress. The Muslims of Turkistan were without any military power. The Turkish Islamic community of over 10 million people in Central Asia had none of the prerequisites to decide their future for themselves, and therefore it was impossible to make use of this great opportunity.

Islamic India under the Mughals

¹⁰²

CHAP. 2 / INDIA UNDER THE MUGHALS / THE MUGHAL EMPERORS

	A Timurid prince, `Umar Shaykh Mirza, ruler of Farghânâ, died in 899/1494, leaving little more than a title to his principality for his son Babur, then eleven years old. Babur had to fight not only to defend Farghana but also to fulfil his ambition of possessing Samarqand because of its prestige as the main city of Central Asia. His adventures described in his excellent memoirs read like a romance. He did succeed in occupying Samarqand, only to lose it again. His lasting possession proved to be Kabul which he occupied in 910/1504, and which became his headquarters. All else, including Farghânâ, he lost in the struggle.
	The rise of the Özbegs and the Safavids affected Bâbur's career deeply. The Özbegs were able to extinguish the power of the Timurids because they proved incapable of serious and joint effort. The Safavids came into conflict with the Özbegs and defeated them. Bâbur was restored to the kingdom of Samarqand as a vassal of Shah Isma’il I after the defeat and death of Muhammad Shaybani Khan Özbeg (917/1511). The Safavids were defeated in the battle of Ghujduwan, and Babur lost all hope of ruling Samarqand, and returned to Kabul (918/1512). When Babur felt secure, his mind turned towards India. Ibrahim Lodi, the sultan of Delhi, had alienated his nobles. Dawlat Khan, the governor of Lahore, sent messengers to Kabul offering allegiance in return for help. Ibrahim's uncle, `Alam Khan, also went to Kabul seeking assistance to capture the throne of Delhi. Babur, who had made some incursions into the Panjab before, now marched, ostensibly to help Dawlat Khan, and captured Lahore. Dawlat Khan, finding that Babur had no intention of handing over Lahore to him, turned hostile. In the meanwhile `Alam Khan attacked Delhi with the help of some Mughal troops without success. Bâbur, whose attention had been diverted because of the siege of Balkh by the Özbegs, returned and heard at Sialkot of `Alam Khan's failure. Dawlat Khan surrendered and died soon after, Ibrahim marched from Delhi, while Babur occupied Panipat and waited for Ibrahim.
The first battle of Pânipat (93 2/i 5 26) is remarkable because Bâbur
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succeeded in defeating an army of 100,000 men and 1,000 elephants with a small force of about 25,000.  Babur entered Delhi and his eldest son, Humâyûn, was sent to Agra. Bâbur's name was read in the khutba as the emperor of Hindustan. Thus was established the Mughal empire.
Babur had still to contend with formidable forces. The remnant of the Afghan nobles elected Ibrahim's brother, Mahmûd, as sultan. Rana Sanga of Chitor, the head of a strong Rajput confederacy, saw in the débâcle of the Lodis the opportunity of gaining vast territories ; but Babur defeated him at Khanua in 933/1527.
Babur then turned his attention to Mahmûd Lodi. The decisive battle was fought in 936/1529  near the confluence of the Gogra (Ghagra) with the Ganges, where Babur was once again victorious. He was also able to conclude a treaty of peace with Nusrat Shah, the king of Bengal. A year afterwards Babur was taken ill, and died in 937/153o, nominating Humâyûn as his successor.
Babur was not only a valiant soldier and a capable general but also an accomplished writer and a poet of merit. His memoirs are famous. Because of his preoccupations, some entries are sketchy as if made in a diary, but in other places the reader is fully compensated by Bâbur's excellent pen-pictures of important contemporaries. He has also recorded a considerable amount of natural data of which he seemed to be a keen observer. In addition there are his essays in criticism of literary works and paintings, buildings and institutions. Outstanding is his great sincerity, which prevents him from indulging in self-praise or hiding his shortcomings. He emerges as a lovable, generous, capable and brave man, who wins the admiration and sympathy of the discerning reader by telling all about himself, whether creditable or otherwise.

Humâyûn

Humâyûn succeeded to the throne without any trouble, but later his younger brothers, Kâmrân, `Askari and Hindâl, created difficulties. After his defeat at the hands of Babur, Mahmûd Lodi had fled to Bengal. Now he invaded the Mughal territories and took Jawnpur. Humâyûn marched against him and gained a decisive victory.
The sultan of Gujarat, Bahâdur Shah, thought it opportune to send three columns against various points in Mughal territories, all of which were defeated. Bahâdur Shah, who had been besieging Chitor, turned after its fall towards Humâyûn, who had reached Mandasor, only sixty
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miles away, in pursuit of one of the Gujarat columns. Bahâdur Shah, instead of attacking Humâyûn, entrenched himself in a camp. The Mughals cut off all supplies, and ultimately Bahâdur Shah had to escape to Mândû (941/1535).
Humâyûn followed him. The fort fell, and Bahâdur once again escaped with the Mughals in pursuit. He succeeded in reaching Diu (Diw). Humâyûn, leaving `Askari at Ahmadabad, returned to Mândû to organize the administration of Malwa. `Askari did nothing to oust Bahâdur Shah from Diu, nor did he organize the administration. Bahâdur Shah was soon able to collect a force, and marched upon Ahmadabad. `Askari retreated in the direction of Agra. Thus Gujarat was won and lost in a little over one year. It was reported to Humâyûn that `Askari's followers had treasonable designs, so Humâyûn left Mâlwâ and marched towards Agra, meeting `Askari's forces on the way, but did not punish `Askari because, in addition to the loss of Gujarat, there had come news of difficulties with the Afghans in the east. After Humâyûn's march from Mândû, Mâlwâ was seized by Mallû Khan who had been governor before the Mughal occupation.
At this juncture Humâyûn encountered a formidable rival in the Afghan, Shér Khan, the son of Hasan Khan who held the parganas of Sahsarâm, Hajipur and Khawâspur Tândâ. Farid, as Shér Khan was originally called, fled from Sahsarâm to Jawnpur because of his father's coldness, as Masan was completely under the influence of Farid's stepmother. At Jawnpur he devoted himself to his studies, and, when his father once visited Jawnpur, he was so struck with Farid's capacity that he invited him back and put him in charge of his parganas. Here he showed his great talent for good administration.
This further excited his step-mother's jealousy, and he was soon forced to leave again, and seek service in Agra at the court of Ibrahim Lodi. After the sultan's defeat at Panipat, Farid attached himself to the self-appointed Sultan Muhammad of Bihar. It was in his service that, one day, while accompanying the monarch in a hunt, Farid slew a tiger with a sword, and received the title of Shér Khan. He was also appointed tutor to the sultan's young son, Jalal Khan. After an interval in the service of Babur, he returned to the court of Sultan Muhammad, where he was restored to his former position. The sultan died shortly after; his son, Jalal Khan, being a minor, his mother became the regent and appointed Shér Khan as her agent. Thus he became the ruler of Bihar. When the queen died he was virtually king.
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Sultan Muhammad of Bengal sent a force against Bihar which was defeated with heavy losses. He sent another army, and this time the nobles persuaded Jalal Khan to dismiss Shër Khan. He retired to Sahsâram, and Jalal Khan joined forces with Bengal. At this Shër Khan enlisted more troops, advanced against the Bengal army, and defeated it. Jalal Khan escaped into Bengal, and Shër Khan's power became absolute. The treasures, animals and equipment left by the two Bengal armies had enriched and strengthened him. He then acquired the strong fort of Chunâr on the Ganges through marriage with the widow of its commandant. Mahmûd Lodi now took possession of Bihar, leaving only his parganas to Shër Khan, who reluctantly joined him, but refrained from actively supporting the sultan against the Mughals. Mahmûd Lodi was defeated and, being unable to raise a new army, retired to Orissa, where he died in 949/1542.
During all this time Shër Khan had been quietly building up his power. He accumulated arms and devised a plan to seize the hoarded treasures of the rulers of Bengal. When reports of Shër Khan's activities reached Humayûn, he marched against Chunâr, which was captured after a difficult siege in 944/1537. While Humâyûn was busy besieging Chunâr, Shër Khan marched into Bengal and took Gawr. Shër Khan, knowing full well that Humayûn would follow him into Bengal, lost no time. He removed his booty to the hills of southern Bihar, which he intended to use as a base against the Mughals. He also gained by a strategem the fort of Rohtas, where he put his family and his newly acquired treasures. Humâyûn marched into Bengal and, delighted with its verdure, prolonged his stay. He posted Hindal on the north bank of the Ganges to guard his line of communication. Southern Bihar is hilly, and, being covered with thick jungle, is impenetrable by cavalry. The sole means of communication was through the Teliyagahri pass. Shër Khan, who knew the terrain well, harassed the Mughal communications, so that Hindal deserted his post; he retired to Agra with rebellious intentions. Shër Khan took all the area between Banaras and Teliyagarhi. Bengal was thus turned into a prison for Humâyûn by the superior strategy of Shër Khan. At last Humâyûn realized his danger, marched out and reached Chawsa, where he halted, unaware of Shër Khan's position.
Shër Khan's forces soon appeared, and, instead of attacking them when they were tired, the Mughals waited. After resting his troops, Shër Khan attacked Humâyûn, who was taken by surprise. The Mughal
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army was thoroughly beaten (946/1539). After the battle, Shër Khan proclaimed himself sultan, with the title of Shër Shah.
While Humayûn was in difficulties in Bengal, Hindal had failed to help him, and had indulged in treasonable activities at Agra. Kamran also moved from Lahore, and established himself in Agra. Humayûn and `Askari were able to reach Agra with difficulty, and Shër Shah occupied Bengal. Kamran left Humayûn in this desperate situation and retired to the Panjab. Shër Shah after having consolidated his position in Bengal, marched against the Mughals. Humayûn advanced from Agra and stopped near Kannawj, with Shër Shah on the other bank of the Ganges. Defections forced Humayûn into crossing the river. The Mughals fought a half-hearted battle, and Shër Shah's 10,000 troops put a Mughal force of 40,000 to flight (947/1540).
After this defeat Humayûn reached Agra, but there was no chance of taking a stand. He evacuated Agra and, after a halt at Delhi, hurried on to Lahore, followed in close pursuit by the Afghans. Lahore was abandoned. His progress towards Afghanistan being barred by Kamran, Humâyûn turned towards Sind, where he had no success. Fie received an invitation from Raja Maldeva of Marwar, and faced grave difficulties in reaching there, only to discover that the raja had turned against him. He returned facing even greater hardships. Ultimately he reached `Umarkót, where the ruler gave him shelter. It was here that Akbar was born in 949/1542. Humayûn could not stay long at `Umarkót and decided to go to Qandahar. `Askari, who was the governor of Qandahar on behalf of Kamran, strengthened his defences, and instigated some Balûch chiefs to arrest Humâyûn, who escaped, but Akbar fell into their hands and was sent to `Askari. Humayûn entered Persia as a refugee, and, after many humiliations and difficulties, secured small reinforcements in 952/1545 from Shah Tahmasp to fight against Kamran. A protracted struggle ensued, until Humayûn succeeded in ousting Kamran. `Askari, who had remained faithful to Kamrân, was captured and was sent to Mecca, where he died in 965/1558. Hindal was killed in a night attack by an Afghan (959/1551). Kamran joined, for a while, the court of Shër Shah's son, Islam Shah, but disappointed with his contemptuous reception he ran away, and finally fell into Humayûn's hands. In spite of pressure from the courtiers, Kamran was not executed, but was blinded and sent to Mecca, where he died in 964/1557.
After Humayûn's departure from Lahore, Shër Shah occupied the Panjâb, Malwa and Ranthambhor. He punished Paranmal of Raysen for
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having massacred the Muslim inhabitants of Chandéri and enslaving Muslim and Hindu women. He brought Marwar and Méwar under his control. Then he marched against Kalinjar, which he besieged. A rocket, rebounding from the gate of the fort, fell into a heap of ammunition in proximity to the sultan. He was severely burnt, and was carried to his tent. The officers were summoned and commanded to take the fort, and before sunset he received the news of its capture by storm. Then he died (z/I545).
Shér Shah was a good general and a great strategist, as the way he trapped and defeated Humayûn shows. He has been highly praised for his efficient administration. The lessons learnt in his youth in administering the parganas of his father were never forgotten, and he stands out as one of the greatest administrators who ever sat on the throne of Delhi. He was just, tolerant and benevolent. He took an interest in the welfare of his subjects, improved communications, built and repaired caravanserais, and took steps to maintain peace and order. He rose from being a student in exile to be first the ruler of Bihar, and then the sultan of Delhi. Afghan writers, who naturally wrote with considerable nostalgia in the days of Akbar, exaggerated his originality, though not his capacity as an administrator. Shér Shah had very little time at his disposal to create new institutions. He was, however, a keen student of history, and succeeded in putting into action the administrative machinery, which had been considerably damaged by disturbed conditions.
He was succeeded by his son, Islam Shah, who was brave and determined, but suspicious by nature, and harsh in his dealings. Because of his harshness, his brother `Adil Khan was favoured by some nobles, which set Islam Shah against him. `Adil Khan was defeated, and fled towards Patna where he disappeared, but Islam Shah's campaign against the nobles continued, and there is little else to narrate about the reign. On his death (961/1554) his son Feroz was raised to the throne. His brother-in-law, Mubariz Khan, marched at the head of a strong force towards Gwalior, where he forced his way into the presence of the young king and, despite the entreaties of the mother, murdered the boy and ascended the throne under the title of `Adil Shah. He displayed little tact and even less capacity. Relations between the nobles and the sultan were embittered because of his harshness. A cousin of the sultan, Ibrahim Khan Sûr, came to know that an attempt was to be made on his life. He fled from Gwalior, occupied Delhi and assumed the royal title. `Adil Shah then grew suspicious of another cousin, Ahmad Khan, whom
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he intended to remove, but who was warned by his wife, the sultan's younger sister. He left Gwalior and escaped to Delhi. There he quarrelled with Ibrahim, and, having defeated him near Agra, occupied Delhi, and proclaimed himself sultan as Sikandar Shah in 962/1555. There were now three sultans : `Adil Shah, whose authority extended over Agra, Malwa and Jawnpur; Sikandar Shah, who was supreme from Delhi to Rohtas in the Panjab ; and Ibrahim Shah, who ruled the foothills of the Himalayas in the Panjab. A fourth contender for position was a petty shopkeeper of Rewari called Hémû who had gathered all local power into his hands.
The power of the Sûrs being thus divided, Humayûn decided to try his luck again. He captured Lahore, Jullundar (Jalandhar), Sarhind, Hisar and Dipalpur. Sikandar marched with an army of thirty thousand, was defeated at Machiwara, and retired into the hills. Sâmana fell soon after, and from there Humayûn marched upon Delhi, which he occupied. Forces were sent into the Do'ab. However, before much could be achieved, he fell from the stairs of his library, and died two days later in 963/1556.

Akbar

Akbar was little more than thirteen years old when he succeeded to the throne. Bayram Khan, a tried officer and friend of Humayûn, was appointed his guardian. The reign began with difficulties. Apart from the three Sûr contestants, there was the ambitious Hémû. He advanced from Gwalior to Agra, which was lost. Hémû then marched upon Delhi, from which the Mughal governor, Tardi Beg, fled. Such areas in the Do'ab as had been occupied were evacuated. Bayram marched against Hémû, at the second battle of Panipat. The Mughals were greatly outnumbered, but after an archer succeeded in piercing Hama's eye with an arrow, he was captured and executed. Agra and Delhi were recovered. `Adil Shah vas still in Chunar when he was attacked by his cousin Jalal al-Din Bahadur Shah of Bengal, and was slain. Sikandar surrendered in 964/1557, and the Do'ab vas soon brought back under control.
When Akbar was eighteen years old, a number of his foster-relatives and others persuaded him to break with his guardian. Akbar left Agra and went to Delhi, from where he informed Bayram Khan that he was no longer needed as a regent and tutor. Bayram, rejecting all advice to
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rebel, announced his intention of going on Pilgrimage to Mecca. However, he wanted to dispose of his property in the Panjab. Akbar showed impatience, and sent a former servant and personal enemy of Bayram Khan to hasten him. This goaded Bayram Khan into rebellion; he was defeated, and took refuge in Tilwara, a hill fortress, from where he sent a messenger to Akbar expressing repentance. Bayram appeared before Akbar at Hajjipur. He then departed for Mecca, and was killed by some Afghans near Patan in 967/1560. Bayram deserved better treatment because of his services to Humayûn and Akbar. He was an able, sincere and wise servant.
Malwa had acted independently of its Mughal governor since 954/1547. In 968/1561 Akbar sent an expedition under Adham Khan, his foster-brother and the son of his chief nurse, Maham Anaga, who, along with other foster-relatives, had come to wield great influence in matters of state. Malwa was under Baz Bahndur, the enthroned son of a Khalji noble, who is still remembered as an accomplished musician and for the famous romance between him and a beautiful Hindu girl, Rûpmati. He was easily defeated and sought safety in flight. Rûpmati took poison to save herself from Adham Khan, whose misbehaviour brought Akbar to Malwa, but Adham Khan was permitted to continue as governor.
In the meanwhile `Adil Shah's son, Shér Khan, marched on Jawnpur and was defeated. Asaf Khan was sent against Chunnr, which surrendered. The eastern provinces were now relieved of any serious danger. Adham Khan continued to misbehave in Malwa, and had to be recalled. His lieutenant, left in charge of the province, was even worse, and Baz Bahadur recovered Malwa. Akbar then sent `Abd Allah Khan Özbeg, who reorganized the province.
Akbar invited Atga Khan from Kabul to take up the duties of chief minister, to the disappointment of the harem party. When Adham Khan reached the court he murdered Atga Khan (969/1562). Akbar executed Adham immediately, and Maham died of grief forty days later. This brought Akbar complete emancipation from the harem influence. Henceforth, Akbar, who had already shown considerable initiative, mostly followed his own counsel.
Asaf Khan was ordered to conquer the Hindu kingdom of Gondwana, which was annexed (971/1564). Khan Zaman, along with several other Özbegs, was posted in the east, and extended the frontiers of the empire to the borders of Bengal. Because of their absence from the court, the interests of the Özbegs were neglected. This created disaffection, and
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ultimately revolt broke out in 973/1565. The rebellion was quelled when Khan Zaman was trampled to death by an elephant in a hard-fought battle near Kara (975/1567).
In the same year Akbar marched against the rânâ of Chitor. Bihari Mall of Amber had already allied himself with the Mughals by marrying his daughter to the emperor, which was the beginning of the intimate relationship between the Mughal dynasty and the Rajpûts. Uday Singh, the rânâ of Chitor, however, had not offered submission, hence the campaign against Chitor. The fortress was considered impregnable, and the defence was left by the rang to one Jay Mal, who put up a spirited fight. Akbar, however, succeeded in shooting Jay Mal with his musket when he was out on a round of the defences. The Rajpûts then committed the terrible rite of jawhar, in which they burnt their women, donned saffron robes, and rushed upon the enemy to be killed. Chitor thus fell into Akbar's hands. Ranthambor and Kalinjar were also taken, and Gujarat, which had fallen into a state of anarchy, as mentioned above (p. 27), was conquered in 981/1573.
Akbar next turned his attention to Bengal. Sulayman Kararani had been the governor under Sher Shah, and, after the decline of the Sûrs, had become independent. He died in 980/1572. His son Dâ'ûd invaded the Mughal dominions. This resulted in war, ending only when Da'ûd was captured in battle and executed (984/1576).
Akbar's strictness in the enforcement of regulations regarding the maintenance of troops by local officers resulted in a rebellion in the eastern provinces. It was aggravated by Akbar's attitude towards orthodox Islam, which will be discussed later. Simultaneously his younger brother, Muhammad Hakim, marched into the Panjâb, and reached Lahore. He did not receive much support, and when he heard that Akbar was marching against him, he retreated. Akbar followed him to Kabul, where Hakim was forgiven. He died four years later. The area around the Khyber pass was occupied by the fanatic sect of Rûshana' is. The campaign against them proved difficult, but they were ultimately defeated in 996/1586.
Akbar was disturbed by the rise of 'Abd Allah Khan Özbeg in Central Asia. The province of Badakhshan was torn with internal dissensions. The tribal area, as has been mentioned, was in a state of unrest, and Kabul itself was badly administered by Hakim. Akbar therefore moved to Lahore to be closer to the scenes of trouble and to plan the control of Kashmir as well. `Abd Allah Khan, to whom one of the contestants in
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Badakhshan had appealed for help, took hold of that province. Shortly afterwards Muhammad Hakim died, and Kabul was occupied for Akbar (993/1585). Another Mughal force marched into Kashmir, where it received the homage of its ruler, Yûsuf Shah, in 994/1586; subsequently Kashmir was formally annexed and Yûsuf was detained as a state prisoner. Sind was annexed in 999/1590 and the ruler, Jani Beg, appeared at court in 1002/1593. There he won Akbar's favour by becoming his disciple, and was appointed governor of Sind.
Having secured the whole of northern India, Akbar started taking definite steps to bring the Deccan under his control. (An account of the Deccan sultanate is given later in the Appendix.) Missions were sent to different rulers who had sent gifts, these were treated as tribute and gave the Mughals a pretext to interfere in the affairs of the Deccan whenever it suited them. After a protracted war the imperial troops succeeded in occupying Abmadnagar (1009/1600), and then annexing the small principality of Khandésh. The fall of the Nizam Shahi sultanate of Abmadnagar demonstrated to the other rulers of the Deccan that it would be difficult for them to resist the might of the Mughal empire.
Salim, Akbar's eldest son, later the Emperor Jahangir, was dissatisfied because his position as heir-apparent had not been recognized. His behaviour at Allahabad, where he was governor, caused some anxiety and in the view of some historians amounted to rebellion. He was reconciled with Akbar and forgiven in 1012/1603.  Two years later, in 1014/1605,  Akbar died.
By all standards Akbar was personally brave, a good general and an excellent administrator. He was responsible for converting a small kingdom into a resplendent and mighty empire. His name passed into legend and folklore as the embodiment of the qualities associated with great monarchs. However, a good deal of what Akbar did contributed to bringing about the destruction of the fabric that he had built. His patronage of architecture and literature will be discussed elsewhere, as also his peculiarities as a religious thinker.

Jahângir

Salim succeeded to the throne as Nûr al-Din Muhammad Jahangir Ghazi. His son, Khusraw, had also been a claimant. Khusraw was influential, and had the quality of attracting devoted friends. Man Singh, Khusraw's uncle, was his main supporter. When Jahangir ascen-
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ded the throne, he tried to conciliate Man Singh and Khusraw. However, Khusraw escaped to the Panjab, where he attracted some support. An incident of far-reaching consequences was that the Sikh guru Arjun gave his blessings to Khusraw; this embittered the relations between Jahangir and the Sikhs, and Sikh-Mughal animosity developed. Khusraw laid siege to Lahore. Jahangir marched in pursuit of Khusraw who, leaving a contingent in front of Lahore, turned to fight, and was defeated at Bhairowal. He was captured in an attempt to cross the Jhelum. Jahangir imprisoned the prince, but his followers were punished severely. While in confinement Khusraw hatched a plot, which was revealed, and the ringleaders were executed. Jahangir refused to read the entire correspondence for humane reasons. The leading officials thought it unfair that whereas the supporters were punished heavily, nothing happened to the prince who was the root of the trouble. They, therefore, put pressure upon Jahangir, and induced him to blind Khusraw to stop him from any further mischief. Soon, however, Jahangir relented, and asked physicians to treat the prince whose eyesight was partially restored, but he was not released.
Jahangir's queen, Nûr Jahan, was the daughter of Mirza Ghiyas Beg, a well-born man of talent, who migrated to India, and rose steadily in the imperial service. She was lady-in-waiting to Akbar's senior widow. Jahangir saw her for the first time in 1020/1611, fell in love with her, and married her. Nur Jahan, beautiful and capable, proved to be a devoted wife. When Jahangir's health declined because of asthma, he came to rely more and more upon her. She was supported by her father who was given the title of I`timad al-Dawla. He would have risen anyhow, but his promotion was more rapid because of Nur Jahan's influence. Her brother Asaf Khan was learned, a good administrator, and an expert financier. Her group included Prince Khurram, later the Emperor Shah Jahan, the most capable of Jahangir's sons, and the one obviously marked out for succession. He was Asaf Khan's son-in-law.
Jahangir's reign can be divided into two parts. The first extends from 1020-32/1611-22 when Jahangir still had complete control over affairs. I`timad al-Dawla was alive and exercised a moderating influence, and Nûr Jahan and Khurram were in agreement. During the second period, from 1032/1622 to 1037/1627, Jahangir began to lose his hold on the administration because of his ill-health. I`timad al-Dawla was dead, while Khurram and Nûr Jahan became hostile to one another.
In 1021/1612 an Afghan revolt in Bengal gave considerable trouble
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until a young officer, Islam Khan, was made governor, and succeeded in defeating the rebels. After this the Afghans never gave trouble. Disturbances also broke out in Méwâr where the rana, Amar Singh, had gradually increased his power. The Rajpûts waged guerrilla warfare in the hills. After some time in 1022/1614 Khurram was appointed to Méwâr, to whom Amar Singh submitted and promised not to occupy Chitor again. He was excused from attendance at the court because of his old age, but his son was sent as a hostage for his father's loyalty.
In 1024/1616 Jahangir received Sir Thomas Roe. The English had been trying to secure some concessions from the Mughals, and William Hawkins had visited the court eight years earlier. The Mughals had a poor opinion of the English, who were considered to be uncouth and unruly. Roe was unable to obtain any concession, but did succeed in securing permission to carry on trade from Khurram, who was the viceroy of the Deccan.
The situation in the Deccan had taken a turn for the worse, as far as the Mughals were concerned, because of the rise of a Habshi officer, Malik `Anbar, to power in Ahmadnagar. He recruited Marathas and organized them into guerilla troops, and recovered a good deal of the territory lost to the Mughals. After initial difficulties, the command was given to Prince Khurram. Malik `Anbar thought it wise to cede the territory that he had captured. Khurram visited his father after this successful campaign, and was awarded the unprecedented rank of 30,000 (see below, p. 55) and given the title of Shah Jahan.
By 1033/1623 all power had passed into the hands of Nur Jahan. She could foresee that Shah Jahan was not likely to remain under her influence and, therefore, she thought of advancing the incapable Shahryar, Jahangir's youngest son, as her candidate. With this in view, she married her daughter by her first husband to him in 1030/1620. I`timad al-Dawla died in 1032/1621 and, as Asaf Khan was Shah Jahan's father-in-law, he was not likely to turn against him. Thus Nur Jahan was isolated. Shah Jahan's position was strengthened by Khusraw's death in 1031/1622.
In 1016/1606 Shah `Abbas I of Persia instigated his officers to besiege Qandahar, but it was ably defended, and the Persians retired when Mughal reinforcements arrived. Shah `Abbas disowned the campaign. In 1031/1622 Shah Jahan was asked to march to its relief, but, being afraid of Nur Jahan's intrigues in his absence, he laid down conditions which were rejected by Jahangir. When Shah Jahan felt that he was
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likely to be punished, he rebelled. After a tedious campaign he was defeated. He had to send his sons, Dara Shikóh and Awrangzeb, to court and was demoted to the governorship of Balaghat.
The general Mahabat Khan, who had been instrumental in defeating Shah Jahan, was alienated by Nur Jahan, and, while Jahangir was marching towards Kabul in 1036/1626, Mahabat Khan brought off a coup and captured the person of the emperor. Nur Jahan's attempt to rescue him failed, and Mahabat Khan became the dictator though all appearances of Jahangir being at the helm of affairs were kept up. Nur Jahan, however, was busy throughout, and finally succeeded in getting Mahabat Khan dismissed.
Shah Jahan made another attempt when he heard that his father had fallen into Nur Jahan's hands. He received no support, and his progress was stopped at Thattha. Nur Jahan, however, administered a strict warning, reminding him that Mahabat Khan's power had been broken. Shah Jahan was sick, and was carried in a litter through Gujarat, where Mahabat Khan joined him with a force of two thousand. Thus the two most capable and brilliant generals of the empire were united, but both of them were without resources. They waited for an opportunity. Jahangir died in 1037/1627 on his way back from Kashmir, and his body was carried to Lahore, where he was buried.
Jahangir was a sensible, benevolent and generous man. In his beliefs he was a conforming Muslim, although he had in later life a weakness for alcohol. He was responsible for a number of minor reforms. He was a great patron of painting, of which he was a connoisseur, and his coinage is the most distinguished of all Indian issues. He was a simple and straightforward man with no cunning. He retained his affection for Khusraw despite his repeated rebellions, was a devoted husband to Mir Jahan, was fond of sports, a great lover of nature and desirous of proving a benefactor to his people.

Shah Jahan

Shah Jahan was the elder surviving, and the more capable, son and his succession would have been without trouble but for Nur Jahan's opposition. Asaf Khan, however, was in his favour and acted with great circumspection. He put Mir Jahan under guard, removed Shah Jahan's son from her charge, and put Khusraw's son on the throne as a stopgap. Shahryar, who proclaimed himself emperor at Lahore, was
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easily defeated. In the meanwhile Shah Jahan marched through Gujarat and reached Agra, where he was proclaimed emperor in 1038/1628. Nur Jahan was given a good pension and lived near Lahore, building Jahangir's tomb and engaging in charitable works.
In the Deccan Mahabat Khan had captured Ahmadnagar, which passed under Mughal rule in 1041/1631. The imperialists had already been encroaching upon Golkonda territory and by 1040/1630 about one third of it had passed into their hands. As Golkonda and Bijapur were both creating trouble for the Mughals in Ahmadnagar, Shah Jahan decided to punish them. In 1047/1636 Golkonda agreed under pressure to remove the name of the shah of Persia from the khutba and to insert Shah Jahan's name instead; to abolish the Shi'i formula on the coins, because the association of a Shi`i formula with Shah Jahan's name might have created difficulties for the emperor within his own dominions; to pay an annual tribute, and to help the Mughal troops against Bijâpur.
In 1047/1636 Shah Jahan demanded that Bijapur should clearly recognize Mughal sovereignty, pay regular tribute, and cede the territories that had belonged to Ahmadnagar. As Bijapur took no action, Shah Jahan decided on an invasion. Bijapur sued for peace, which was granted on its acceptance of the demands. After the death of Muhammad `Adil Shah in 1067/1656, when his son `Ali `Adil Shah found himself too young to control the factions at the court or suppress rebellion in the kingdom, Shah Jahan decided to intervene. One of his sons, Awrangzêb, led a successful campaign but at the intervention of Dara Shikóh, Shah Jahan's eldest son, much to the chagrin of Awrangzêb, peace was granted on the surrender of some territory.
The Portuguese had established themselves at Hugli in Bengal and, with the help of a large number of converts and half-castes, carried on piracy and kidnapping children to sell them into slavery. In 1049/1639 an expedition freed a large number of slaves, and the Portuguese were forced to pay a large indemnity and evacuate the settlement.
Qandahar was restored to the Mughals through its Persian governor, who came over to them (1048/1638). The Mughals had never given up their dream of recovering their ancestral territories in Transoxania, where internal difficulties encouraged Shah Jahan to send an expedition. His second son, Murad Bakhsh, was able to occupy Balkh, but because he disliked the climate he was replaced by Awrangzêb, who was able to defeat an Özbeg force in a pitched battle. In 1058/1648, however, Shah `Abbas II intervened openly, and demanded the evacuation of Qandahar and the
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restoration of Balkh to the Özbegs. Shah `Abbas took Qandahar: it was lost to the Mughals, and the Central Asian adventure also came to an end.
In 1068/1657 Shah Jahan fell ill and was not able to hold public audience. There were wild rumours, and the princes thought that they should make a bid for the throne. Murad Bakhsh proclaimed himself emperor in Gujarat; Shah Shuja`, a capable administrator and then governor of Bengal, advanced towards the capital; Awrangzêb, with imperial troops under his command, was in correspondence with both, and Dara Shikóh tried to reduce his power by recalling those troops. One army was sent against Shah Shuja`, another against Murad, and a third was despatched to keep Awrangzêb in check. Shah Shuja` was defeated and fled to Bengal. Awrangzêb completed his preparations, and marched from Awrangabad in 1069/1658. Murad came and joined him and the two marched on Agra. A Rajpût commander sent to stop Awrangzeb's progress was defeated at Dharmat. Then Dara had to take the field himself at Samûgarh, ten miles east of Agra. Awrangzêb won the battle despite his inferior resources, and then marched on Agra and took the city. Shah Jahan tried to lay a trap for him, but an intercepted letter addressed to Dara Shikóh revealed the plot to Awrangzêb. Murad Bakhsh was arrested and confined, and Awrangzêb ascended the throne with the title of `Alamgir. Shah Jahan was deposed and confined in Agra at his son's order.

`Alamgir I (Awrangzêb)

Dara Shikóh was pursued into Kachh. He crossed into Gujarat, mustered sufficient resources, and marched northwards. He was captured, tried for heresy, and beheaded, Murad Bakhsh also was executed. Shah Shuja` marched from Bengal, was defeated in pitched battle near Kara, and was pursued into Bengal. After continuous warfare he escaped into the Arakan, where he was killed in 1072/1661.
In 1072/1662 Mir Jumla, the governor of Bengal, led a campaign into Assam because the raja had taken hold of some Mughal territory. In spite of the difficulties of the terrain the raja was defeated.
In 1078/1667 the Yûsufzay, a Pathan tribe, rose in rebellion. They were defeated near Atak and were brought under control. Then in 1083/1672 the Afridis revolted. They were inspired by the famous poet Khushhal Khan Khatak, who had served Shah Jahan faithfully, but was disappointed with Awrangzêb when he extended imperial patronage to
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another tribe. Awrangzeb established himself at Masan Abdâl and systematically brought the tribes under control. In 1086/1675 he left the campaign in the hands of Amir Khan, who completed the work of pacifying the tribes.
Jaswant Singh, maharaja of Mârwar, had tried to plunder the imperial camp at night on the eve of the battle of Kara when Shah Shujâ` was defeated. He was forgiven and posted at Jamrûd. After his death without heirs in 1089/1678 Awrangzeb brought Mârwâr under direct administrative control, and on a posthumous heir being born soon afterwards seized the infant, Ajit Singh, and his mother. The child was rescued and conveyed to a place of hiding, while the Rajpût national leader in Mârwar, Durga Das, after unsuccessfully opposing the Mughals openly, carried on guerrilla warfare from the hills. The neighbouring Méwar, which tried to stand by the Mârwâr Rajpiits, was no match for the imperial army with its European artillery. Awrangzeb's third son, Akbar, was left in command of Méwar while Awrangzeb returned to the Marwar campaign. Akbar ultimately joined forces with the Râjpût contingents, and marched against his father who was almost defenceless at Ajmer. However, Prince Mu`azzam managed to join the emperor, who took up a position at Doraha to give battle. Through the familiar stratagem of addressing a letter to the prince, commending him for laying a trap for the Râjpûts, and taking care to see it fall into the hands of the enemy, he isolated Akbar who, deserted by his troops, wandered from one place to another until he made his way to the Deccan and joined the Marâthâs. Later he made his way to Persia. The war against Méwar was pursued until the rdnd secured peace on surrendering three parganas in lieu ofjiuya. The campaign against Mârwâr went on a little longer until ultimately Durga Dâs was reconciled.
It has been mentioned (p. 46) that Malik `Anbar organized Maratha guerillas to harass the Mughals. Even earlier the Marâthâs had sought service in Muslim armies, and were prized for their hardihood. Shâhji Bhonsle had risen to the position of king-maker in Ahmadnagar. When Shah Jahan captured that sultanate, Shâhji migrated to Bijâpur, where also he became powerful. His son, Shivâji, was born in 1037/1627. After the death of Muhammad `Adil Shah in 1067/1656 Bijâpur declined rapidly, and its control over the mountainous areas so relaxed that Shivâji was able to take many forts, mostly by stratagem. His power went on increasing. In 1075/1664 he sacked Sûrat, two-thirds of the city being destroyed by fire or plunder. In 1076/1665 Awrangzeb sent
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Râjâ Jay Singh of Amber, who forced Shivâji to yield four-fifths of his territory and to acknowledge the sovereignty of the emperor. In 1077/1666 he visited Agra and was given command of 5,000 (see below, p. 55). He considered this inadequate, created a scene, and was confined but escaped. After three years of preparation he resumed his activities, occupied large areas, and crowned himself king in 1085/1674. He continued to harass the Mughals until he was attacked by an imperial force, and was forced to fight. The Marâthâs suffered heavy losses, though Shivâji escaped. Soon afterwards he died in 1091/1680, and was succeeded by his son, Shambhûji.
The rapid decline of the Deccan sultanates (see Appendix) and the creation of anarchic conditions, which contributed to the growth of the Maratha power, could no longer be ignored by Awrangzeb. Bijâpur and Golkondâ had not only encouraged the Marâthâs, but had actually entered into secret alliances with them. The emperor, therefore, decided to conquer the sultanates so that the Marâthâs should not thrive upon their decadence, and moved camp to the Deccan. In 1100/1689 Sham-bhûji was defeated, captured and brought before Awrangzêb, when he abused the emperor and the Prophet. He was executed. His family was kept at court, and properly maintained.
The Mughals besieged Bijâpur in 1097/1686, and the ruler, unable to put up a long defence, waited on the emperor, was received kindly and enrolled as a mansabdâr with a large pension. All Bijâpuri officers were enrolled in the imperial service.
In 1083/1672 Abu'l-Hasan had come to the throne of Golkondâ. The power was in the hands of a Brahman minister, Madanna, who entered into a secret alliance with Bijâpur and Shivâji. In 1097/1685 a secret letter to Bijâpur was intercepted in which all help was promised against the Mughals. At this Prince Mu`azzam, now styled Shah `Alam, was sent against Golkondâ. He took Haydarâbad and Abu'l-Masan fled to Golkondâ. Abu'l-Masan, however, made his peace by the payment of an indemnity and a cession of territory. He promised to dismiss Madanna, but, because the dismissal was put off, the Muslim nobles, who were tired of his tyranny, brought about his assassination. Conditions in Golkondâ did not improve, and ultimately Awrangzeb decided to put an end to the dynasty. He therefore annexed the kingdom by proclamation. Despite the fact that a mine under the fort misfired, and killed many of the assailants, the emperor stood firm and saved the situation. The fort was captured. Abu'l-Masan was sent to Dawlatâbâd with a handsome
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pension. Awrangzêb was now free to devote his entire attention to the Marathas. Raja Ram, who had succeeded Shambhûji, retired to Jinji on the east coast, which became the centre of Maratha activities. It was captured by the Mughals in 1110/1698.
In 1112/1700 Raja Ram died, and Shivaji III was put on the throne. Between 1110/1689 and 1112/1700 the Mughals conquered the whole of the north Konkan from the Marathas. Awrangzêb himself patiently went on conquering one fort after another between 1111 /1699 and 1117/1705 but he fell ill and died in 1118/1707. The Maratha snake had been scotched but not killed, and was to give considerable trouble to the Mughals (and to the British) in subsequent years.
Awrangzêb was a pious Muslim. He was an excellent general and possessed the qualities of determination and perseverance to a remarkable degree. The last great monarch of the dynasty, he took his responsibilities as an orthodox Muslim ruler seriously, and endeavoured to make Islam once again the dominant force in the realm. After the policies of the three previous reigns, this brought him into conflict with the forces arrayed against such a revival.
ADMINISTRATION
The Mughal emperors claimed to be fully independent monarchs, and to be caliphs within their dominions. After the abolition of the ‘Abbasid caliphate in Baghdad, some jurists had already come to believe that a universal caliphate was no longer necessary, and that every independent monarch should discharge the duties of a caliph inside his realm. However, the rulings of the jurists regarding the functions of the caliph were applicable to independent monarchs as well. The monarch was the chief executive of his realm, and the commander of its forces. His power was limited by the Shari `a.
Akbar, however, made a correct analysis of the situation and decided that if he allied himself with the non-Muslims and the heterodox elements in the Muslim population, he could reduce orthodoxy to helplessness. He succeeded, and became virtually a temporal sovereign outside the practice of Islamic kingship. Orthodoxy, however, rallied towards the end of his reign, and gradually built up a power which could not be ignored. Jahangir, therefore, had to restore such institutions of orthodox Islam as had been put in abeyance, the only exception being the jizya. The orthodox reaction did not subside, and ultimately resulted in the




policies of Awrangzêb, who was not only personally orthodox like Shah Jahan, but also relied heavily upon orthodox support.
The Mughal emperor was in a very real sense the head of the government. He had all authority centered in his hands. Next to the



monarch was the wakil al-saltana, who was theoretically the lieutenant of the monarch in all civil and military matters. During the period of Akbar's minority, this office possessed real authority. Later, because of the active role played by the emperors themselves, the post became an empty honour. The waVr or diwan, as he came to be called, was the head 
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of the fiscal administration. He was assisted by a diwân-i khâlisa, who looked after the unassigned lands and cash salaries; a diwân-i tan, who was responsible for all assignments in land, called jâgîrs. The mir bakhshi was responsible for the proper organization of the army, and was the chief recruiting officer and paymaster. He also controlled the various agencies that kept the central government informed of the happenings in the provinces. He was assisted by three assistants : the second, third, and fourth bakhshis. The sadr al-sudûr was responsible for religious affairs, pious foundations, grants to scholars and men of merit. He was also the chief judge with the dual function of qâzi al-quzât.
The public services were organized under a unified system called mansabdâri. An official's rank was fixed within a complex cadre by his mansab. In the beginning, officers were grouped into ranks ranging from commanders of ten (dab bâshi) to commanders of 5,000 (panj hazâri). Later the mansabs were increased and commands of 7,000 (haft hazâri) were created. Sometimes very large mansabs were conferred, for instance, Jahangir bestowed the unprecedented rank of 30,000 upon Khurram when he was awarded the title of Shah Jahan. Within the same rank, however, were variations based upon the additional rank of sawâr (troops). Thus a commander of 5,000 might have the rank of 5,000 zât (personal) and 5,000 sawâr. The sawâr rank could vary from nil to the figure of the mansab. Those officers whose sawâr rank corresponded to the zât rank belonged to the first class; those whose sawâr rank was less than the zât rank but half or more than half of the zât rank to the second class; and the rest to the third. A further complication was introduced by the number of horses in the contingent. Thus, for instance, an officer could be 5,000 zât, 5,000 sawâr, 3,000 dô aspa sih aspa. The dô aspa sih aspa rank meant that a certain proportion of the contingent assigned to the officer contained, in a prescribed proportion, troopers with two horses and three horses each. The dô aspa sib aspa rank determined the number of months in the year for which the mansabdâr drew his salary. The system was further complicated by the fact that none of the figures denoted the actual number of troopers maintained by the mansabdâr. In Shah Jahan's reign, for instance, many mansabdârs were expected to maintain only a fifth of the sawâr contingent. Another complication was created by the fact that sometimes all the ranks were purely fictitious and a mansabdâr was not expected to maintain any soldiers at all; this was merely a convenient device to fix the position of civilian officers in the cadre. So long as the emperors were vigilant, the mansabdâri system, despite its
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cumbersome nature, served them well, because all appointments and promotions were made on merit.
The finances were provided mainly by the state demand upon agricultural produce. Other sources of revenue, such as the customs, were not so important. Jizya, never a great source of revenue, was abolished by Akbar and reimposed by Awrangzêb.
The agrarian administration of the Mughals was scientific and benevolent. Although Akbar's diwân Todar Mall is given much credit for bringing the Mughal provinces within a unified system of administration, his principles were in fact those first applied in the extensive reforms of Shér Shah. Apart from the old systems of crop-sharing by division of the harvested yield, the division of the standing crops, or by appraisement of the estimated yield after harvesting, the system mainly in use was that of measuring the area cultivated and calculating the yield on the basis of schedules of produce. These were kept up to date through the maintenance of a record of the `medium' produce of an area and taking a fresh decennial average of it every year. Sample cuttings were made of good, middling and poor crops, by which the figure of `medium' produce was determined for the entire area which formed the basis of the schedule. Akbar raised the state demand from a fourth to a third of the gross produce, though in certain provinces, because of long-standing traditions, it varied from one-tenth to a half. Payments to public servants were made in cash or through jâgirs, i.e. grants of land. The assignee collected the state demand, but maintained the same machinery of assessment and collection for the assigned area. The jâgirs were not the property of the assignee; they were transferred, resumed or awarded to new assignees. The mansabdârs were servants of the state, the salaries were fixed in cash and the assignment was only a method of payment.
All disputes between citizens were within the jurisdiction of the qâzi. All complaints against servants of the government came within the purview of mazâlim courts. The mazâlim court at the centre was presided over by the monarch himself and was attended by the qâzi al-quzât to tender advice on legal matters. The monarch acted as a siyâsa (summary) court in dealing with rebels and prisoners of war. No death-penalty could be enforced without the previous consent of the emperor.
The provincial government was organized on the pattern of the central government. Every department dealt with the corresponding department at the centre and was under its control. The head of the provincial government was the sûbadâr. The provincial mazâlim courts consisted
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of the sûbadâr, the diwân, the provincial bakhshi and the provincial qâzi. The provinces (sing., sûba) were divided into sarkârs, and the sarkârs into parganas. The units of administration were the village and the pargana.

ASPECTS OF CULTURE

Literature

Literary activities flourished under the patronage of the emperor as well as the nobles, some of whom were littérateurs themselves. Akbar's court poet was Fayzi. Other important poets were `Urfi, Naziri and Zuhuri, all of whom hold a high position in the history of Persian poetry. Talib Amuli was the poet laureate in Jahangir's reign. Sa'ib came into prominence under Shah Jahan. Under Awrangzêb, Bédil's philosophical fancies and insight earned him great popularity amongst intellectuals. The poetry of this period is characterized by its polished and elegant diction and its remarkable insight into psychology, a complexity of thought, combined also with a concern for the philosophy of life. A Hindu poet of great eminence who wrote in Persian was Brahman, whose poems enjoy popularity even today. Translations were also made into Persian of the sacred writings of the Hindus.
The Mughal courts saw also a great development in the literatures of Indian languages : Mughal rulers and nobles were active patrons of Indian literature, especially Hindi, and there is a small but important corpus of Hindi works by Muslim writers. In addition, the toleration shown to Hindus by some Mughal courts, especially under Akbar and Jahangir, led to the production of fine devotional poetry by Hindus. The Sufis' allegorical poems in Hindi, known from the late eighth/fourteenth century, continued into Mughal times, and Malik Muhammad Jâyasi's Padmâvât of 947/1540 an allegory of the search of man's soul for wisdom cast in a delightful love-story, is the finest such epic of the period, of the calibre of Spenser's Faerie Oueene. This and similar allegories are of a form resembling the Persian masnavi, but in Indian metres. A very different genre of poetry was in favour at the courts, a deliberately cultivated display of the poetic art, as originally formulated in Sanskrit court-poetry, on erotic themes. At Akbar's court the cultivated general and minister 'Abd al-Rahim, the Khan-i Khanan, was a leading Hindi poet under the pen-name Rahim, and popularized a new metre.
Other languages similarly produced fine literatures in the courts of the Deccan. At Bijapur, especially under Ibrahim II, Kannada and Dakhni
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poetry were as esteemed as Persian; while at Golkondâ, besides some cultivation of Telugu verse, excellent Dakhni poetry was written by members of the royal house.
Historiography was well represented, and except for the later part of Awrangzeb's reign there are reliable histories for every reign. The Akbar-nâma and A'in-i Akbari of Abu'l-Fazl, in spite of their difficult and rhetorical style, constitute the greatest historical works of Akbar's period, coloured throughout by excessive adulation of the emperor. In addition, a number of religious and literary biographies throw considerable light upon the period. Two autobiographies are famous : Bâbur's memoirs are considered to be one of the most revealing and sincere autobiographies ever written; different in nature and style, Jahângir's memoirs are an excellent record of the period.
Awrangzêb himself was a master of style, and various collections have been made of his letters. The letters of Shaykh Ahmad of Sirhind collected in Maktûbât-i imam-i rabbâni form source-material for writing on his mission. A remarkable book is the Dabistân-i mazâhib, which is almost an encyclopaedia of the various religions and sects found in the subcontinent during the period. The author, Mubsin Fâni, was a Zoroastrian.

Painting

There is some evidence to show that painting was practised under the sultans of Delhi, and a well-defined school of miniature painting grew up in Gujarat. Painting, however, received great impetus under the Mughals. Bâbur was a critic and has relevant observations on the artists of his period. His son Humâyûn found time during his exile in Persia to go to Tabriz and meet some of the leading artists of the city. He was able to attract Mir Sayyid `Ali and Khwâja `Abd al-Samad to his court after Shah Tahmâsp's loss of interest in the arts, and these two artists joined him in Delhi after his return. They were entrusted with the task of illustrating the epic of Amir Hamza. Some of these paintings on cloth are still extant though unfortunately many have been mutilated. Under Akbar the school was developed further. A large number of artists were employed to work under the direction of Mir Sayyid `Ali and later of Khwâja 'Abd al-Samad, and a large number of books were illustrated, using new techniques and materials, under the emperor's personal interest. Because of the employment of a number of Hindu artists a new spirit entered the pictures. The growth of new trends soon freed the Mughal school from purely Persian conventions. Under
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Jahangir, who while still a prince maintained his own atelier, the school developed further. It achieved maturity and distinctiveness. It retained its vigour but it was softened with grace and aesthetic sensitiveness. As Jahangir was fond of birds and flowers, more of the local environment entered into the paintings, especially in the background. Western influence also began to make itself felt through Jahângir's interest in the paintings brought from Europe by the Jesuit missions. It showed itself in the adoption, in some paintings, of linear and aerial perspective called dûrnumâ. One typical Mughal canon of perspective was of one plane superimposed on the other with a plurality of vanishing-points, so that all details were shown equally clearly; but European unitary perspective was also introduced.
Under Shah Jahân, though the excellence of the pictures was unaffected, there was a ripeness that felt baffled in seeking new avenues of excellence. It expressed itself in the richness of materials and especially in elaborately ornate margins. It is wrongly believed that painting languished under Awrangzêb. The ripeness of Shah Jahân's reign, however, turned into decay and, though some excellent pictures were painted, art lost its vigour; certainly there was less patronage, and the status of the artist was much degraded.
The Mughal school of miniature painting reached an excellence which has seldom been surpassed. In spite of the handicaps of the conventions which admitted only profiles or three-quarter faces, and mostly stiff postures, the Mughal portrait painter was somehow able to depict the very soul of the subject. Even in large groups, this quality is maintained in drawing the individuals. The pictures were drawn in three styles : rangîn qalam (full colours), nim rang (one prevailing colour, mostly sepia), and siyâhi qalam (black and white). The figures have the rhythmic beauty of the calligraphic curve, and the composition of groups, as well as the distribution of colours, is excellent. It was not uncommon for the outlines to be done by one artist and the colourings by another. Copies on vellum (charba) were taken of the linework of portraits and groups, from which further paintings might be made in later years. It is a remarkable testimony to the realism of the school that Awrangzêb, feeling concerned about his son Mu`azzam, when he was placed in confinement in 1098/1687, asked the painters to send him regularly pictures of the prince so that the emperor could see himself that the prince's health had not suffered. Mughal art was entirely secular, and concerned itself mainly with the court, though sometimes pictures relating to the life of
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the people were also painted. Jahangir had the habit of having painted a new bird or a new flower that he came across, and his favourite painter, Mansur, has been acclaimed as one of the greatest nature painters of the world. The influence from Muslim countries was kept alive by the employment of painters from outside. One of the most outstanding of these was Farrukh Beg, who arrived in the last years of Akbar's reign.
The Râjpût schools of painting, which grew up under the inspiration of the Mughal school, also deserve mention. Their themes were strikingly different : Hindu epics and religious themes, and also symbolic representations of the sentiment of musical modes (râgas).
Calligraphy was looked upon as an allied art and received generous patronage. It was practised on a much wider scale and the period produced some outstanding calligraphists.

Music

The difficulties of the interpretation of the evidence concerning Indian music mentioned in the previous chapter are no less in the Mughal period. The greatest name, perhaps, of this period is that of Tansén, a converted Hindu who became a disciple of the saint Muhammad Ghaws of Gwalior, near whom he is buried. Everyone knows of him and pays lip-service to him; yet it is now almost completely impossible to form any idea of why he was so highly praised or of what contributions to music he made.

RELIGION

The first millennium of the Hijra came to a close in the sixteenth century. Many Muslim minds were attracted to the idea of the advent of the mahdi, a leader who would breathe new life into Islam. This idea had become common and was accepted even in orthodox circles. Sayyid Muhammad, a pious and learned professor in the university town of Jawnpur, came to believe that he was the mahdi and proclaimed his mission. His teachings were not heretical. He demanded greater conformity with the Shari`a. His claim, however, was rejected by the orthodox `ulamâ', and he met with such opposition that he had to emigrate from the sub-continent. He died in exile in 911/1505 . Two of his disciples carried on his mission. The first was Shaykh 'Abd Allah Niyazi who settled near Bayana. A young scholar, Shaykh `Ala'i, became his disciple, and gathered a large following, who did not limit
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themselves to preaching, but tried to enforce the Shari`a through coercion. This brought conflict with the officials. Makhdûm al-Mulk, the sadr al-sudûr, asked for a trial of Shaykh `Ala’i. The ruling sultan, Islam Shah, despite his strictness, did not want to push matters to extremes, but on Makhdûm al-Mulk's insistence, Shaykh 'Ala'i was flogged. Already weak and emaciated through austerity and wandering, Shaykh `Ala'i collapsed and died at the very first stroke. 'Abd Allah Niyazi also was flogged, and was removed by his followers, who nursed him back to health. Later a message was received from Sayyid Muhammad that he had repented at the time of his death and seen his error. `Abd Allah gave it credence and recanted. Many others, however, refused to believe the message. The followers of the sect are still found in the Deccan and in Gujarat, though their numbers are small. The orthodox hostility to these Mahdawis led to systematic persecution which made the theologians in power unpopular.
There was some impact of Islam on Indian religious thought at this time. Certainly some Sufi teachers, especially those of the Chishti order, had made a popular front for their own views through their allegorical romances in Indian vernaculars ; probably with some acceptance, for Sufi mysticism often has much in common with the pantheistic mysticism of the Indian Vedanta. To their influence, both from their teachings and on account of the popular respect they commanded as saints and thaumaturges, may be attributed the partial conversions amongst the lower strata of Indian society—communities with more or less of Muslim belief on particular points of doctrine but generally faithful also to the godlings of popular Hinduism, its rites, festivals, social implications and prescriptions. On a higher level of influence comes the strictly monotheistic thought of such teachers as Kabir—who in spite of his Muslim name preached strongly against what he considered to be the fallacies of both Hinduism and Islam—and Nanak, who added to Kabir's monotheism a discipline of religion which he so much admired in Islam. But his Sikhs later developed an antagonism to the Mughal rulers, and Sikhism became the implacable adversary of Islam in north India.
Akbar, who was tired of subservience to the leaders of orthodox Islam, sought political support from non-Muslims and heterodox sectors of Islam. They gradually led him away from orthodoxy. Akbar instituted discussions on religious topics, to which in the beginning only Muslims were invited, but later men of all faiths participated, and discussions took place regarding the very fundamentals of Islam.
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Amongst those who participated were Hindu pandits, Jain anchorites, Zoroastrian mitbids and Catholic priests. Akbar was persuaded to believe in his own spiritual attainments and he began to enrol members of different faiths as his disciples. His views were certainly not those of orthodox Islam, though the charge that he denounced Islam and ceased consciously to be a Muslim is not proved. Too much importance has been attached to the reports of the Catholic fathers by some modern writers and errors have crept into the translations of Badâ'ûni's cryptic and ambiguous statements./1 Akbar built up a superstructure of eclectic pantheism upon the heretical views of some heterodox Sufis and others, which he perhaps only partially understood. The system he promulgated is generally called Din-i Ilahi (Divine Faith), which attracted a little support in his court. Towards the end of his life, Akbar's enthusiasm for religious innovation considerably cooled down and we do not find any exercise in religious speculation after the assassination of Abu'l-Fazl who, along with his brother Fayzi the poet, has been credited by some for turning Akbar away from orthodox Islam. There were so many complex influences at work that even Akbar was more the recipient of ideas than a thinker.
The political repercussions of Akbar's religious thought have been mentioned earlier. At the instigation of Abu'1-Fazl's father, Shaykh Mubarak, a manifesto was drawn up to which the leading ulama' of the court were forced to affix their signatures saying that Akbar was a just ruler (imâm-i `âdil), and as such empowered to choose any interpretation which was in accordance with the Qur'an and good for the realm if the mujtahids disagreed. This has been wrongly termed a decree of infallibility, but it was intended to weaken the position of orthodox Islam. Akbar could not be termed imâm-i âdil, because he was not equipped to adjudicate between the differences of opinion of learned lawyers. However, the decree was never utilized, and Akbar relied upon the political device of appointing to high religious and legal offices his own nominees, men with pliant consciences who would carry out his wishes.
At the time of Jahangir's accession the orthodox party had gained sufficient influence to defeat the machinations of their rivals, and extracted from him a promise that he would restore the institutions of Islam. The movement gained momentum under the leadership of Shaykh Ahmad of Sirhind, who is known as the mujaddid (renewer of the faith)
1/ For a fuller discussion, see I. H. Qureshi, The Muslim community of the Indo-Pakistan subcontinent (The Hague, 1962).

of the second millennium. He was a practising Sufi of the Naqshbandi order, but he was able to see the harm that was being done by the views of the monists of the Shattâri and Qâdiri orders. He relied upon his mystic experience to state categorically that the sensation of monism (i.e. union with the godhead) was not the highest expression of mystic progress because it was experienced in a state of ecstasy which he called sukr (intoxication). The higher stage was when a person was able to have this experience without losing his own sense of identity. This doctrine was reinforced with philosophical arguments. The philosophy of wahdat al-shuhûd (feeling of monism through mystic experience) as opposed to wahdat al-wûjûd (monism as a reality) was used for the purpose of eliminating heterodox doctrines (mainly based upon monism) from Sufism. The shaykh's influence was considerable, and we find that gradually orthodoxy was able to recapture the minds of the people as well as the leaders and this expresses itself in its growing strength until it culminated in the orthodox measures of Awrangzêb. This was no doubt partly political: his popular elder brother, Dârâ Shikôh, was a disciple of a Sufi of the Qadiriyya, had studied Hindu philosophy and mysticism, and in his Majma` al-bahrayn sees a `mingling of the two seas' of Hindu pantheism and Muslim mysticism, of a type similar to Ibn al-`Arabi's. Shaykh Ahmad's influence was not limited to the sub-continent : through the Mujaddidiyya branch of the Naqshbandiyya order it spread as far as Turkey in the west and Indonesia in the east. It was through his efforts that Sufism gradually turned away from heterodoxy, and became one of the main supporters of orthodoxy.

APPENDIX THE SULTANATES OF THE DECCAN, SIXTEENTH TO EIGHTEENTH CENTURIES

The rise of the five Deccan sultanates from the chaos of the Bahmani empire, through the assertion of autonomy by the provincial governors, has been mentioned in the previous chapter. Their subsequent political history is largely a record of continuous strife between them, with occasional and variously aligned alliances but only on one significant occasion a community of interest. Internally, however, in spite of their border troubles, they developed major literary, religious and cultural centres.
To some extent all the sultanates inherited the factionalism of local and
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foreign elements which had led to the disruption of the Bahmani empire; although the religious tensions implicit in this faction were less prominent, as the influential Shia tended to be concentrated in the Shi`i sultanates, Bijapur and Golkondâ. The Barid Shâhis in Bidar and the `Imâd Shâhis in Barâr were Sunni, as were the Nizâm Shâhis of Ahmad-nagar until Burhân I adopted Shi`ism in 944/1537. The sultanate of the Barid Shâhis was gradually encroached upon in the north and west by Bijâpur, against which Bidar made occasional alliances with the other sultanates; Bijapur was subject to continual pressure on the south from the Vijayanagara kingdom, and the only occasion on which all the sultanates, except the northern Basal., acted jointly was when their confederation defeated Vijayanagara at the battle of Tâlikota in 972/1564-5. Bidar was finally annexed by the 'Adil Shâhis of Bijapur in I028/1619.
The `Imâd Shâhis were remote enough in Barâr to avoid most of the Deccan inter-sultanate conflicts, although there were occasional clashes with the Nizâm Shâhis. Eventually, after the battle of Tâlikota, when Bijapur was able to enlarge its dominions by the annexation of former Vijayanagara possessions, Ahmadnagar was anxious to achieve a similar increase of strength. She therefore invaded Bark. in 981-2/1574-5,  and extinguished and absorbed the `Imâd Shah' power.
The Nizâm Shâhis were generally in a state of dispute with the two large sultanates, Bijapur and Golkondâ; one sultanate was always eventually compelled to intervene in a war between any two others lest one should become victorious, and so upset the balance of power to the disadvantage of the original non-belligerent. It was indeed in this way that these three sultanates were able to remain in existence where the single Bahmani sultanate had failed. Part of the Ahmadnagar-Bijapur dispute arose from a royal marriage in 927/1521 when the Bijapur princess's dowry was stipulated as the border fort of Sholâpur, which Bijâpur consistently failed to cede. In 937/1531  Burhân I of Ahmadnagar, alarmed by the growth of the power of Bahâdur Shah of Gujarat, who had just annexed Mâlwâ and with whom Khândash was now closely allied, offered him his allegiance. The aim of Bahâdur was to enlist Ahmadnagar's support against the Mughals, but Burhân secretly suggested to Humayiin that he attack Gujarat. A compact between Ahmadnagar and Bijâpur to annex Barâr and Golkondâ respectively in 941 /15 34 was pursued, but abandoned on the death of the Bijâpur sultan, Ismâ`il. His successor, Ibrahim, instituted Sunnism as the official faith,
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dismissed most of the `foreign' element, and by substituting Marâthi and Kannada for Persian allowed the free employment of Brahmans in his administration. Shortly afterwards Bijapur-Ahmadnagar relations worsened when the Nizâm Shâhi ruler embraced Shi'ism. Bijapur was faced also with rebellion in its Konkan provinces, fomented by the Portuguese at Goa which they had taken from Bijapur in 915/1510. From the 960s/1550s the `Adil Shâhis actually turned to Vijayanagara for assistance against their rivals; but Vijayanagara soon became the dominant partner in the Bijapur/Golkonda/Vijayanagara confederacy, offended allies and enemy alike by the insults it offered Islam, and made arrogant demands on the sultanates as the price of its assistance in arms, and their excesses led to the battle of Tâlikota already mentioned.
Ahmadnagar, constantly at war with Bijapur and weakened by wars of succession, had further trouble from a Mandawi faction in 999/1591. On the death of the ruler some four years later, four contending factions were leading towards anarchy when an appeal was made to the Mughals for help. They were in fact preparing for an invasion of the Deccan when the appeal arrived, and Ahmadnagar was soon under siege from them. The dowager queen, Chând Bibi, purchased its liberty by the cession of Barar; but Mughal ambition was not to be denied, and the city fell to them in 1009/ 1600. Within ten years the Habshi minister, Malik `Anbar, had ousted the Mughals and restored a nominal Nizâm Shâhi dynasty, but the state was still under heavy Mughal pressure and Bijapur was able to acquire much of the southern Ahmadnagar lands. The defection of a Mughal nobleman to Ahmadnagar led to a renewed Mughal attack in 1039/163o, and the kingdom finally fell to the Mughals three years later.
In Bijapur a Mughal force had in 1046/1636 forced a peace compelling the acknowledgment of Mughal suzerainty, and the land remained peaceful for some twenty years thereafter until the Marâthâs under Shivâji commenced a series of depredations on the north and west. This did not prevent Bijapur from retaining its position as a great cultural centre; but politically it was almost a spent force when it finally fell to Awrangzêb in 1097/1686.
The Qutb Shah' kingdom of Golkondâ was less disturbed than its neighbours, and knew less internal party and religious faction. The city of Hyderabad (Haydarabad), built with much magnificence at the end of the tenth/sixteenth century, had for six years a Persian embassy from Shah `Abbas, and was a leading centre of Shi`i scholarship. The Dutch established themselves at Masulipatam, on the Madras coast, in 1024/1615, and
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the English seven years later. In the 1040s/ 1630s the Golkondâ possessions to the south were extended, but the Mughals were pressing on the north and in 1045/1635-6 Shah Jahan forced the payment of tribute. The Golkondâ. minister Mir Jumla having aggrandized himself in the east, the sultan appealed to Awrangzêb for aid; this led to the Mughal siege of Golkondâ in 1066/1656,  which was bought off. But the later rise of two Brahman ministers provoked Awrangzêb to renewed attack, and Golkondâ finally fell in 1098/1687.
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The breakdown of traditional society

CHAPTER 3 THE BREAKDOWN OF TRADITIONAL SOCIETY

By the beginning of the eighteenth century, Muslim society in India was composed of descendants of Turkic, Afghan, Persian and Arab immigrants, and of Indian Muslims who had embraced Islam in different regions and circumstances, and under varied pressures. The immigrants, who themselves belonged to distinct culture groups, brought with them the characteristic features of their ethnic and non-Islamic religious backgrounds. In the course of time, the interaction of their various ideas and values contributed to the rise of cultural traditions which were radically different from those of their birthplaces; Muslims, while retaining the broad basic framework of their religion, evolved healthy traditions of toleration, and of peaceful coexistence with the indigenous population. A great deal of similarity developed in the dress and ornaments of Hindus and Muslims. Though the eating habits of the members of the two religious groups differed in important respects, especially in the eating of meat, these difficulties did not undermine their social relations. They appreciated each other's religions and social taboos and adjusted their lives in an atmosphere of social amity and mutual understanding. Hindu and Muslim peasants, artisans, craftsmen and merchants worked in close co-operation with each other. Hindu bankers, merchants and money-lenders controlled trade and commerce and exercised considerable influence over the finances of the government. They were the backbone of society.
The use of Persian served as a strong unifying bond between the Hindu and Muslim upper classes. Translations of some Hindu religious works into Persian widened the outlook of those Hindus who were linked with the Mughal administrative machinery; and an atmosphere of sympathetic understanding of the spiritual problems of the two major religions of India was thus created. The verses of Sa`di, Rami and Hâfiz regulated the patterns of social behaviour of Hindus and Muslims alike. The educational policy and the translation scheme undermined Brahmanical superiority in the interpretation of Hinduism. The obscurantism and bigotry of Awrangzêb disturbed the Hindu and Muslim nobility alike. The control of the Hindus over the revenue and
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the financial policies and administration of the Mughals had made even the Muslim theologians and other religious functionaries dependent upon them for the verification of their land grants. The occasional outbursts of the theologians and the Sûfis against the Hindu administrative officers of the Mughals should be ascribed to their failure to make the administrative machinery subservient to their demands.
The system of state employment evolved by Akbar, known as the mansabdari system, absorbed all types of landed interests such as Râjpûts, Bundêlâs, hill rajas, Jats, Marâthâs, and the Muslim tribes and ethnic groups, into the same graded hierarchy, with definite salaries either in the form of a jâgir (assignment of land) or partly in cash and partly in jâgir, for each mansab (rank) and for the number of horsemen maintained. They constituted the upper crust of society. Their tribal, racial, or ethnic interests conditioned their alliances and enmities; religion played hardly any significant role in political and official dealings. The secular laws of the government exercised an overriding control over the administration.
The zamindars were those who held various types of hereditary land rights. From the highest Râjpût chieftains down to the petty `intermediaries' at village level, all were known as zamindars. They were ambitious, restless and given to intrigue. Akbar assimilated them to the Mughal administrative machinery by offering them mansabs commensurate with their status and ability. The emperor's paramount authority to appoint, depose, or reduce rank kept them under proper control and various other restrictions ensured their loyalty to the emperor. They collected the revenue from the cultivators and credited the state's share to the imperial treasury through the official revenue collectors. They maintained law and order in their jurisdiction, protected the roads and other means of communication and were required to promote cultivation. Their rights and privileges were superior to those of the other cultivators in the village. The dispossessed Afghan nobles among the Muslims enjoyed large and compact zamindari interests. Under them, a considerable number of other Afghans and their retainers controlled many villages. The zamindars of other caste groups also held compact areas under their control. This enabled them to rebel without much inconvenience and on the slightest provocation. Religious and racial questions added to the confusion. The system itself was responsible for the frequent Jât, Sikh and Afghan revolts in the north and those of the Marâthâs and the Deccan Muslims in the south.
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Grants were also made for religious and charitable purposes to scholars, theologians, and members of respectable families who had no other means of livelihood. The descendants of the Muslim saints, and of the Prophet, were the greatest beneficiaries under this system. Subsequently they also came to hold compact zamindari interests in different villages. These grants were liable to be resumed at the death of the assignee, though some grants were hereditary. The conditions under which grants were made were not always complied with by grantees; and any interference on the part of the administrators to curtail the privileges of the beneficiaries met with strong resistance.
The peculiar features of the Mughal administrative system produced three types of villages. There were villages consisting exclusively of a Hindu or Muslim population, and there were others with a mixed population. The exclusively or predominantly Muslim villages had their mosques with imâms, mullâs and other religious functionaries, who played a vital role in directing village life into healthy channels, and exhibited restraint, understanding and sympathy in the celebration of religious festivals and other communal functions. The tomb of a genuine or legendary saint or a martyr was an object of veneration to Hindus and Muslims alike. Revivalistic and puritanical movements could not eradicate all syncretic tendencies.
The pressure on the supply of jâgirs, the demand for which increased at the end of the seventeenth century because of the costly military campaigns of Awrangzêb (`Alamgir I) in the impoverished Deccan, and the need to reconcile Deccani nobles, unbalanced the Mughal administrative machinery. Awrangzeb's policy of breaking the zamindar cliques by encouraging them to embrace Islam, and thus driving a wedge into their ranks, strengthened their parochial and separatist tendencies. Those zamindars who did not pay revenue unless military force was applied against them, were a perpetual source of trouble to the Mughal administration. At the end of the seventeenth century, in combination with other recalcitrants, such people rose in rebellion in several places. Some of them used religious slogans to rally support for their cause, and ambitious religious leaders lent a willing ear to them. In the eighteenth century these zamindars assumed the role of autonomous chiefs.
The war of succession after the death of Awrangzêb dealt a heavy blow to the straitened resources of the empire; and the prodigality of Shah `Alam Bahâdur Shah (I 119-24/1707-12)  shattered the basis of the jagir-
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din system. Subsequently, to the detriment of the interests of the central government, encroachments were made on crown land which began to be assigned as jâgirs. An attempt to replenish the treasury by introducing a revenue-farming system aggravated the crisis. The powerful factions at the court began to bid for the profitable and most easily manageable jâgirs, and the leading aspirants for power embarked upon a scramble for the key positions of the empire. Gradually some mansabddr s also acquired permanent zamindâri rights.
Formerly the Mughal nobles had intrigued to gain the favour of their masters; now they assumed the position of king-makers. The leading Muslim factions unhesitatingly set out to seek the protection of the Marathas, the Rajputs and the Jats whenever it suited their purpose. Zu'l-Faqir Khan, the all-powerful wazir, obtained the abolition of the jizya through Jahandar Shah, whom he raised to the throne in 1124/1712. Even the reversal of the policy of Awrangzêb did not save the Mughal empire from dissolution. Failure to keep pace with technological developments in other parts of the world and to introduce much-needed administrative reforms precipitated its downfall. Nadir Shah's invasion of 1152/1739 left the imperial capital, Delhi, bleeding and prostrate. The surrender of Sind, Kabul and the western parts of the Panjab to the invader made the Mughal frontiers vulnerable to successive invasions by the Afghan chief, Ahmad Shah Durrani (1160-87/1747-73). His rise contributed to the encouragement of the Indian Afghans, who began to make a fresh bid for supremacy over the ruins of the Mughal empire. The Afghan chief Najib al-Dawla assumed the role of a fifth columnist. A headlong collision between the rising Maratha power and the ambitious Afghans, both of whom were making a bid for political supremacy in northern India, became inevitable. On 14 January 1761, a fierce battle was fought between Abmad Shah Durrâni and the Marathas at Panipat in which the Maratha power was worsted. The Durrâni invasion drained the impoverished Mughal empire of its entire resources; Najib al-Dawla suppressed the Jat incursions, but the Sikhs, who had gradually consolidated their power, obtained supreme control of the whole of the Panjab. In less than ten years the Marathas reappeared before Delhi; but neither they nor the Mughals could withstand the gradual penetration of the British into India. The battle of Panipat exposed the weakness of the Indian powers.
On the decline of the central authority at Delhi, there arose along with the Hindu states a number of Muslim principalities which pretended to
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owe nominal allegiance to the Mughal emperors, but to all intents and purposes were independent. Of these the most important in the north were Bengal, Oudh (Awadh) and the trans-Gangetic powers, and in the south, the Asaf Jahi state of Haydarabad (Deccan). They tried to reorganize their administrations on traditional lines, and their courts became the rendezvous of unemployed artists, craftsmen, musicians and poets, mainly Muslims.

RELIGIOUS CHALLENGES

Except for the Mujaddidi Naqshbandis, all the mystic orders in India followed the principles of wabdat al-wujûd. At the end of the eleventh/seventeenth century, Shah Kalim Allah Jahanabadi (d. 1142/1729) revived the past glories of the Chishtis at Delhi. He tactfully but firmly opposed the religious outlook of Awrangzêb, denounced him as presumptuous, and sought to stimulate the interest of all sections of Indians in his own preachings. His disciple, Shaykh Nizam al-Din Awrangabadi (d. 1142/1730),  preached the humanitarian teachings of the Chishtis in the Deccan. His activities in Awrangzeb's camp in the Deccan stifled the Naqshbandi influence. About 1160/1747, his son, Shah Fakhr al-Din, moved to Delhi, and plunged himself into the teaching of Hadith and Sufism. The Mughal emperor, a large number of important nobles, princes and princesses vied with one another in exhibiting their devotion to him. Till his death in 1199/1785, his teachings inspired many of the Sunnis of Delhi, and were acceptable to Shi`is, as well as to many Hindus. The influence of his disciples extended from Delhi to the Panjab in the west and to Ruhilkhand in the east.
The most eminent Sufi and the theologian of the twelfth/eighteenth century was Shah Wali Allah of Delhi. He was born on 4 Shawwal 1114/3 March 1703, and received his early education from his father, whom he succeeded in 1131/1719 as the head of the madrasa which he had founded in Delhi. In 1143/1731 he visited Mecca on Pilgrimage, and studied Hadith under some eminent scholars at Medina; he came back to Delhi on 14 Rajab 1145/31 December 1732. His studies in Arabia and contacts with other scholars of the Islamic world sharpened his intellectual faculties and extended his outlook. He began to feel a mystical confidence which enabled him to discard taglid (acceptance of religious authority) without compromising his belief in the innate perfection of the Shari `a : he asserted that the pursuit of Islamic ordinances conferred
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far-reaching social and individual benefits upon Muslims. His magnum opus, Hujjat Allah al-bâligha, draws extensively upon the works of Ibn Miskawayh, al-Farabi and al-Ghazâli; it reflects a deep understanding of the importance of the process of historical change and socio-economic challenges. His Shari`a-state, which he sought to reorganize on the model of the government of the first four caliphs, was the sine qua non of a peaceful and prosperous life for all ages and times. 'Adl (justice) was the golden mean which preserved the framework of all political and social organizations. Tawazun (equilibrium) in economic life ensured the proper development of a healthy society. An excessive burden of taxation on the revenue-producing classes—peasants, merchants and artisans—undermined the health of the body politic.
In a letter addressed to the Mughal emperor, the wazir and the nobles, he gave practical suggestions for the remedying of the defects in society and the administration. His letter to Ahmad Shah Durrâni details the chaotic condition of the imperial court, and includes a brief account of non-Muslim powers such as the Jats, the Marâthâs and the Sikhs. It was written mainly to seek the goodwill of the conqueror; and it would not be realistic to interpret it as an invitation to that adventurer to invade the country and restore the glory of Islam. Ahmad Shah Durrâni, who had already invaded India on four earlier occasions, hardly needed any invitation for the invasion of 1174/1761, or briefing about the state of affairs of the non-Muslim powers. Mirza Mahar Jan-i Janân, another eminent saint of the times, had no respect for the Durrâni army and for him it was a scourge of God.
Shah Wali Allah was wholly sincere in his devotion to the cause of Islam, and had a firm faith in its power. ‘If it so happens', he wrote, ‘that the Hindus are able to obtain complete domination over India, the Divine Mystery would force their leaders to embrace Islam in the same manner as the Turks formerly did.'/1 Though his ancestors had migrated to India in the seventh/thirteenth century, he considered himself an alien, and exhorted his followers to abandon the customs of `Ajam and the habits of the Hindus './2 His Arabic works subsequently found considerable popularity in Egypt and other Arabic-speaking countries which were experiencing an increasing tension because of the conflicts between eclecticism and revivalistic movements. His disciple, Sayyid Murtadâ of Bilgram (near Lucknow), achieved immense celebrity in Egypt. He
/1 Wall Allah, Tafhimdt-i Ildhiyya (Delhi, 2936), I, 21 5-16.
/2 Wali Allah, Wasiyat Nâma (Lucknow, n.d.), 7.
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wrote commentaries on al-Ghazali's Ihya' ‘ulum al-din and other works on Hadith and fiqh. Shah Wali Allah died in 1176/1762.
His son, Shah 'Abd al-'Aziz (1159-1239/1746-1824), vigorously followed the traditions of his father. He wrote a detailed refutation of the beliefs of the Twelver Shia, which aroused considerable sectarian bickering. Mawlana Sayyid Dildar `Ali, the contemporary Shi`i mujtahid of Lucknow, and his disciples, published several polemical works in refutation. His younger brothers, Shah Raf i` al-Din, Shah 'Abd al-Qadir and Shah 'Abd al-Ghani, co-operated with him in strengthening the cause of Sunni orthodoxy. The first two translated the Qur'an into Urdu. Students from Western Islamic countries also attended their seminaries.
The fatwa which he wrote after the Emperor Shah 'Alam was taken under the protection of the East India Company (1803) is regarded as a very revolutionary document, but it hardly solved any of the problems of the contemporary Muslims. In the fatwa he addressed the puppet Mughal emperor as the imam of the Muslims, and accused the British of wantonly demolishing the mosques and restricting the freedom of dhimmis and Muslims alike. Their non-interference with practices such as the Friday and 'Id prayers, the call to prayer, and cow-slaughter, did not according to him merit any respect, because they felt no obligation to show such tolerance. He therefore declared that India was now dâr al-harb (the abode of war, i.e. outside the Islamic oecumene). The fact that he did not take the same view of the domination of the Maratha's, who had previously exercised supreme control over the emperor, cannot be defended on theological grounds. It seems that he examined the situation historically. Instances of Hindus exercising absolute control over the Muslim powers were not wanting in Indian history; but the supremacy of a foreign power was unprecedented. Neither Shah Wali Allah nor Shah 'Abd al-`Aziz realized the strength of the challenge of the West, and they left Muslim society in a backward condition, torn with sectarian strife and groping in the dark.
Shah 'Abd al-`Aziz's nephew, Ismail Shahid, and his disciple Sayyid Ahmad Barêlwi (1201-46/1786-1831) made further contributions to the practical and theoretical aspects of the jihâd. Sayyid Ahmad was born at Rae Baréli, in the Shi`i state of the nawabs of Oudh. He was not interested in literary education. In about 1804, he travelled to Delhi, and studied there under Shah 'Abd al-Qadir, one of the sons of Shah Wall Allah. After approximately two years' stay he left for his native land.
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In 1810 he joined the Pathan chief, Amir Khan, and obtained considerable training and experience in guerrilla warfare. When Amir Khan surrendered and was recognized as the ruler of Tônk (November 1817), Sayyid Ahmad came back to Delhi. His experience as a soldier and his achievements as a mystic elicited the immeasurable admiration of Shah `Abd al-`Aziz. Shah Ismail, son of Shah 'Abd al-Ghani, and Shah 'Abd al-`Aziz's son-in-law, `Abd al-Hayy, both became Sayyid Ahmad's disciples. Like a roving missionary, accompanied by his disciples, he visited a number of towns in modern Uttar Pradesh, Bihar and Bengal, where they militantly sought to suppress popular religious practices, and combated the prejudice against the re-marriage of widows.
In 1821 Sayyid Ahmad came to Calcutta, and set off for Mecca. A study of the Wahhâbi movement there seems to have strengthened his zeal for militant Muslim revivalism; and in 1824 he returned to India with his mind full of ideas of jihâd. A large number of disbanded sepoys of the East India Company, unemployed Pathan followers of Amir Khan, Ruhillâs and the supporters of the rulers of Sind warmly responded to his declaration of jihâd against the Sikhs, whom he imagined he would be able to overthrow easily. In 1826 he left for the North West Frontier; patched up alliances with some tribal chiefs; and obtained considerable success in early skirmishes against the Sikhs. On 11 January 1827 he assumed the title of imam; he then wrote to the rulers of Bukhara and Herat, explaining the differences between an imam and a sultan, and urging them to help him without any fear for their own thrones. Shah Ismail also wrote a treatise on the subject. Their arguments did not convince the Central Asian rulers, and their activities aroused considerable suspicion among the neighbouring Islamic powers and tribal chiefs. Yar Muhammad Khan, the chief of Pêshâwar, strongly opposed Sayyid Ahmad, whose followers defeated him heavily in 1830. The Sayyid formed a government in accordance with his ideas of a pious Islamic state. His attempts to stamp out the practice of giving daughters to the highest bidders, the enforcement of Islamic taxes on the poor tribes who had joined him in the lust for gold, and other rigorist judicial and economic laws, estranged the tribes from his followers, who were known as the mujâhids or `fighters in the jihâd'. His decree permitting his Indian disciples to take the young girls of the tribes as wives, provoked a violent storm of hostility against the mujâhids, and the tribes began to desert them. In the beginning of 1831 the Sayyid made a dash as far as Muzaffarâbâd in Kashmir, was defeated, and returned to Balakot, where
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he fell fighting against a strong force of Sikhs in May 1831. The claims of Sayyid Ahmad to the imamate, his assumption of a status akin to that of the Rightly-guided Caliphs, his schemes for puritanical reforms, and the indiscreet interference of his followers with the lives of the tribes, brought rapid disaster to his plans of conquest and of founding an ideal Islamic empire extending from Pêshâwar to Calcutta. His schemes were too narrowly based to fit into the framework of contemporary Islamic society. The British authorities actively welcomed unrest on the frontiers with the Sikhs, and connived at the flow of arms, money and men from their Indian possessions to the Sayyid. The movement of Sayyid Ahmad, though known as a Wahhabi movement, had no organic connexion with Muhammad b. `Abd al-Wahhab's movement, and was called by its followers the Tariqa i-Muhammadiyya. His followers were divided into several branches; some even went to the extent of calling him a messiah.

THE IMPACT OF THE BRITISH ADMINISTRATION

Political distintegration and social degeneration after the death of Shah 'Alam Bahâdur Shah I brought little economic dislocation, and was not a corollary of intellectual or moral decay. The traditional seminaries of Delhi, and the dars i-nizâmi, or the curriculum of the oriental learning evolved at Lucknow in the eleventh/seventeenth century, produced some eminent scholars in several branches of the traditional learning, and regional literatures were also greatly enriched. The development of Urdu was a singular contribution of the period. Scholars like Tafaddul Husayn Kashmiri who flourished in the reign of Asaf al-Dawla (1188/1212/1775-97) in Oudh, learnt English and Latin, and compiled some valuable mathematical works. Mirza Abu Talib Khan, also called Abu Talib Landani (‘the Londoner'), who was born at Lucknow in 1166/1752-3, served the court of Oudh and the East India Company in various capacities. In the years 1798-1803 he travelled to Europe and wrote a detailed account of his experiences in the Masir-i talibi fi bilâd-i Afranji, which he completed in 1804. He took a keen interest in British social, political and economic institutions, and assessed them in his work with a remarkable degree of comprehension.
The Rajputs, Jats, Marathas and Sikhs who carved out independent principalities followed the broad pattern of the Mughal administration and welcomed the presence of talented Muslims at their courts; thus the general economic equilibrium of the Muslims remained undisturbed.
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The battles of Plassey (Palasî) in 1170/1757  and Buxar (Baksar) in 1178/1764  put an end to the independence of Bengal. The series of revenue legislative measures passed between 1772 and 1790 culminating in the permanent settlement (1793) of Lord Cornwallis replaced the old class of zamindârs, mainly Muslims, with speculators comprising Calcutta banians (bankers), moneylenders and subordinate employees of the East India Company. The Muslim aristocracy, which took pride in its extravagance, had not the ready cash to profit by the new regulations as did the Hindus. The high-handedness of the Company's agents undermined the monopoly of the Muslim weavers, who possessed hereditary looms and adhered to the traditional system of manufacture. Subsequently the unfair competition of the manufacturers in England and the unwillingness of the Company either to protect the Bengal cotton industry from the repercussions of the Industrial Revolution, or to share with the Indians the widened horizon of their industrial experience, reduced the region to a plantation for the production of raw materials and a dumping-ground for cheap manufactured goods from the West.
A large section of the Muslim artisan class fell back upon the land for its livelihood. The Company's increasing interest in commercial crops such as jute, indigo, tea and opium, and the rapid development of a money economy undermined, especially in Bengal, the basis of Indian cultivation. A considerable number of Muslim agriculturists disposed of their land to Hindu bankers, and were soon reduced to the position of landless labourers. Suspicion of the British, their indifference towards the lot of the Muslims, and the high-handedness of the newly emerged landed aristocracy, prepared a breeding ground for several militant Muslim revivalist movements, which were regarded as offshoots of the Wahhabi movement.
The movement which Hâjji Shari`at Allah (1781-1840) started in East Bengal after his return from Mecca in 1818 was popularly known as the Fara'izi movement, because of the emphasis which the adherents of the movement laid on the observance of farâ'iz or obligatory religious duties. Shari`at Allah's long stay in the Hijaz (1799-1818) had imbued him with the spirit of the Wahhâbi reforms, and driven him away from the mainstream of Bengali life. He set himself the task of restoring the puritanical customs of early Islam in rural Bengal. His followers emphasized that India under British rule was dâr al-harb, and therefore it was not lawful to perform Friday prayers or those of the two `Ids. A section of the Muslim peasantry became hostile to their uncompromising
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and fanatical attitude, and Hindu landlords helped the recalcitrants. In 1831 a major clash between the parties dealt a severe blow to the plans of Hajji Shari`at Allah and he retired into seclusion. His son Hajji Muhsin, alias Dûdû Mian (1819-62), who after 1838 led the movement started by his father, divided most of East Bengal into districts and appointed a khalifa (agent) to each. He took a determined stand against the levying of illegal cesses by landlords and indigo planters. Copying the Arabs, who ate locusts, he insisted that his disciples should eat grasshoppers. The cultivators and the village artisans responded enthusiastically to his preaching. The Hindu zamindars and his Muslim opponents, whom he forcibly tried to convert to his mission, implicated him in a number of criminal suits; he served several terms of imprisonment and died on 24 September 1862.
A similar revivalist movement based on socio-economic grievances was started in West Bengal by Mir Nithar `Ali, popularly known as Tita Mir, a well-known Calcutta wrestler who in 1821 had come under the influence of Sayyid Ahmad of Rae Baréli. His followers wore a distinctive dress and would only eat with members of their own brotherhood. The landlords imposed a tax which was quite heavy for a poor peasant on each of them, which came to be known as the Beard Tax, for all of them wore beards. This gave rise to a number of minor riots and ultimately Titû Mir fell fighting against a military contingent sent to crush his uprising on 19 November 1831. The revivalists had little success in eradicating superstitions and backwardness in rural Bengal, and made themselves a target of attack by British officials and Hindu zamindars. Their zeal for reforms was praiseworthy, but they were antiquated and short-sighted.
The changes introduced into the revenue and judicial administration by Hastings and Cornwallis between 1772 and 1793 deprived the Muslims of all the higher posts that they had so far retained. By the end of the 1820s, the anglicization of Indian institutions, and the increased opportunities for the British to obtain home comforts, including the presence of their families in India, tended to set British administrators apart from Indian life. They became increasingly authoritarian and race-conscious, and the need to read and understand Persian or Hindustani was hardly felt. They regarded the use of native languages as a necessary aid to administration; few, indeed, took any cultivated interest in them.
Muslim scholars in India, who during the previous centuries had depended entirely on state patronage, suffered from its disappearance.
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Until the end of the eighteenth century, the Muslims took a considerable interest in the service of the East India Company. Some of them wrote historical works of singular importance under the patronage of their English masters. Between 1800 and 1804, the encouragement of John Gilchrist of the Fort William College, Calcutta, contributed to the publication of works of outstanding value. Scholars from all over northern India applied to the authorities of the College for appointment. Even Mir Taqi Mir, the distinguished Urdu poet, applied for a position, but did not succeed because of his advanced age.
In 1835 the anglicizers' defeated the `orientalists' and all the funds appropriated to education were directed to English education alone. In 1826 an English-language class was started in the Calcutta madrasa, which had been established in 1781; but already the Bengali Hindus had made considerable headway in learning English. The potential control by missionaries of the English education made the Muslims suspicious of the intentions of the government. They protested in vain against English being made an official language. Gradually there emerged in Bengal a class of uncovenanted government servants, medical practitioners, lawyers and their clerks, printers and publishers, who had acquired English as a commercial investment, and came to possess an outlook and ideology vitally different from that of previous generations. The Persian poets no longer stimulated the interest of the Bengali Hindus—in fact, Persian and Arabic words were deliberately purged from Bengali and a Sanskritized dialect was evolved for literary purposes. This effectively disqualified Muslim Bengalis from acquiring even minor posts in the government.
Bombay and Madras, the two other Presidency towns, did not witness the same process of economic distress. The influential and well-to-do Muslims in these towns, particularly in Bombay, were mostly descendants of Arab merchants. The Khôjâs and Bohrâs, who for centuries past had controlled trade in Gujarat and Bombay, maintained an independent organisation for the betterment of their own communities. They also spent a portion of their obligatory religious taxes for the advancement of the Muslims in general. They kept their solidarity intact, and responded to the need to acquire an English education as far as it promoted their commercial interests. The Muslim landed nobility of the North-Western Provinces (created in 1843) and other parts of India that subsequently came under the control of the British, were not, as in Bengal, supplanted by a new class of Hindu zamindârs; but they long
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remained suspicious of the government's intentions in spreading English. James Thomason, the lieutenant-governor of the North-Western Provinces' (1843-53) realized the potential dangers of the predominance in the public service of Bengalis educated in English. He designed a scheme of vernacular education which helped the Muslims to maintain their position in the lower ranks of government service. To all intents and purposes, the vernacular in that province meant Urdu, the language of Muslim intellectuals and Hindus who served Muslim chiefs.
Delhi College, founded in 1824, where English was also taught as a subject, stimulated considerable interest among Muslims; some of its pupils obtained commanding importance in the last years of the nineteenth century. It was primarily an institution of oriental learning, and used Urdu as the medium of instruction. The teaching of physics and chemistry and the experiments in laboratories stimulated considerable interest among the pupils. A body of scholars under its auspices translated a number of books from English and Persian into Urdu, which were published in Delhi, Agra and Lucknow. The College produced a galaxy of outstanding scholars who made singular contributions to the healthy development of the social and intellectual life of the second half of the nineteenth century.

RESISTANCE TO BRITISH IMPERIALISM

The most formidable resistance to British imperialistic designs was made by the Marathas and the court of Mysore. The latter owed its glory to Haydar `Ali, a man of humble origin, who with resourcefulness and admirable courage took control of the Hindu state of Mysore, overthrew his rivals, and in a very short time reorganised the administration on sound lines. After his death on 7 December 1782, his son, Tipû Sultan, succeeded him. He introduced military reforms of far-reaching importance, created a navy, established armament factories, promoted trade and industries and reorganized the civil administration. His efforts to make alliances with the Ottomans, Persia and Kabul were in vain. The French did not respond to his overtures, and the nizâm of Haydarabad and Marâthâs found his power a challenge to their own existence. Yet he effectively resisted the British, and died defending his independence on 4 May 1799.
/1 The former name of the old province of Agra, later incorporated in the United Provinces (se. of Agra and Oudh), and not to be confused with the North-West Frontier Province.
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Oppressive revenue policies, the recklessness of unimaginative and inexperienced British settlement officers, the hardships of the artisans, economic distress, annoying delays in judicial proceedings, indiscreet evangelical preaching by Christian missionaries after their admission to the Company's territories in 1813, and the insular habits and prejudices of many British officers, all made the British power detestable in the mind of a large number of Indians, particularly the emotional and economically backward Muslims. The annexation of a number of states by Lord Dalhousie (1848-56) in pursuance of his policy of the `Doctrine of Lapse', and the annexation of Oudh on the grounds of inefficient administration, precipitated a crisis. The introduction of Enfield rifles and greased cartridges sparked off the revolt. The rising began on 10 May 1857, when the sepoys at Meerut in the North-Western Provinces mutinied. Soon the leadership and initiative passed into the hands of dispossessed chiefs, zamindars, priests, civil servants and their supporters. Among the principal leaders were Khan Bahadur Khan in Rohilkhand, Bêgam Hazrat Mahall and Mawlawi Ahmad Allah Shah in Oudh, Beni Madho Singh to the east of Lucknow, Kunwar Singh in Bihar, Nana Sahib in Kanpur, Tatya Tope and the râni of Jhansi in Bundêlkhand, and Bahadur Shah II at Delhi. This concerted action cut across all barriers of caste and creed and of linguistic and regional prejudices. British officers, despite their active efforts, failed to stir up communal frenzy. The Muslims gave up cow-sacrifice in Delhi and other places to demonstrate their goodwill towards Hindus, and the latter exhibited due consideration towards the religious sentiments and prejudices of the Muslims. At many places in the North-Western Provinces, Oudh, Bihar and the Central Provinces, the entire population rose in a body against British domination. In Delhi, Baréli and Lucknow, constitutions were hurriedly drafted, designed to ensure a sort of democratic government. The attempt to fight with antiquated weapons against forces trained on modern lines and using the hated Enfield rifles, lack of control over the means of communication and a want of proper organising capacity among the leaders shattered their hopes of expelling the British from India.
The failure of the revolt saw a complete liquidation of the old classes of zamindars throughout the British territories wherever they had been active in the rising. They were replaced by those who had loyally served the British. A horror of rebellion and its ruthless suppression made the new class of the zamindars and their supporters timid, suspicious, and
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dependent on the local British officers. Control of the Indian government was finally assumed by the British crown, and the perpetuation of the princely order under British paramountcy was ensured. The ta`alluqdârs order of big landlords was retained in Oudh; a number of influential ta`alluqdârs were Muslims. Some Muslim states, such as Rampur and Bhopal in northern India, and Haydarabad in southern India, extended considerable patronage to talented Muslims from British India, and became centres of Islamic learning, art and literature. They retained Urdu as the court language. A considerable number of Muslims found important posts in the Hindu states too. The ta`alluqdârs of Oudh and the zamindars also offered minor posts to the Muslims, who gradually adjusted themselves to the changed circumstances and the new order.
A large number of Muslim sepoys escaped to the North West Frontier, joined the Indian mujahids who lived round about Pêshâwar, and organized raids against the British. After a number of skirmishes they were badly crushed in 1863. Trial proceedings between 1864 and 1870 established the presence of close links between some Indian followers of Sayyid Ahmad Barélwi in India and the Frontier rebels, and dozens of them were sentenced to capital punishment. The publication of W. W. Hunter's The Indian Mussalmans in 1871 greatly alarmed many British officials but the lieutenant-governor of the North-Western Provinces denounced it as 'not only exaggerated but misguiding' and `calculated to do much mischief, and create panic and alienation on both sides'./1

MUSLIMS AND ENGLISH EDUCATION

Before the outbreak of the revolt of 1857, some enlightened Muslims in Calcutta had realized the importance of English education for their community. The National Mohammedan Association, established in Calcutta in 1856, with Nawwab Amir `Ali (1817-79) as president, and the Mohammedan Literary Society founded by Nawwâb 'Abd al-Latif (1828-93) in April 1863, tried to overcome the difficulties that hindered the spread of English education among the Muslims. Karamat `Ali of Jawnpur (d. 1873) advocated the study of European languages in order to acquire a knowledge of the sciences. Throughout the greater part of his life he preached in eastern Bengal.
In 1806 Hâjji Muhammad Muhsin, a prominent Persian philanthropist,
/1 Mayo Papers, Cambridge University, Add. 7490 (56).
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had established an endowment yielding an annual income of Rs. 45,000 for religious purposes. For some time the trustees mismanaged the income, and subsequently the government used it for other purposes. As a result of the efforts of Nawwab 'Abd al-Latif and some others, the income of the fund was directed in 1873 towards the establishment of madrasas in Dacca, Chittagong and Rajshahi. A substantial portion of the fund was assigned to the payment of fees of Muslim students in the modern schools and colleges of Bengal. Scholarships for education in England were also granted out of the fund.
The Anjuman-i Islam of Bombay played an active role in the promotion of English education in Bombay. Badr al-Din Tayyibji (1844-1906), a leader of the Khôjâ community, worked for many years as its secretary and for about sixteen years was its president. He ardently advocated the higher education of Indian women, particularly Muslims. His own daughters graduated from Bombay University with distinction, and one of them trained as a teacher in England on a government scholarship.
The increasing interest taken by the British in the Middle East after the completion of the Suez Canal (1869) made them conscious of the need to win the hearts of the Muslims. The viceroy, the earl of Mayo (1869-72), observed `There is no doubt that, as regards the Mohammedan population, our present system of education is, to a great extent, a failure. We have not only failed to attract or attach the sympathies and confidence of a large and important section of the community, but we may even fear that we have caused positive disaffection, as is suggested by Mr O'Kinealy and others'./1
The benefits of this change were adequately reaped by Sayyid Ahmad Khan (1817-98) whose loyal and fearless services to the cause of the British in 1857  had won him their favour. He had already written several works of outstanding merit. After the restoration of peace and order, he plunged into the task of removing misunderstandings between the British and the Muslims, and of promoting education and Western thought. He started schools at Muradabad and Ghazipur in the North-Western Provinces, and tried to bring English works within the reach of his fellow-countrymen through translations into Urdu. He also urged patronage of vernacular education. The translations of the Scientific Society, founded by him in 1864, were warmly welcomed by the govern-
/1 Note by H.E. the Viceroy, Simla, 26 June 1871; Mayo Papers, Cambridge University, Add. 7490 (12).
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ment. He strove for the establishment of a vernacular department in Calcutta University, or alternatively the creation of a vernacular university in the North-Western Provinces. Lord Mayo also supported the demand for patronage of the vernacular./1
The Bengalis, however, strongly opposed the movement, and asked what was really meant by `the vernacular.' With Sayyid Ahmad, it amounted to the introduction of Urdu. His Hindu associates, particularly Raja Jaikishan Das Chaubé of Muradabad, belonged to western United Provinces, where Urdu was spoken by Hindus and Muslims alike. Sayyid Ahmad had insufficient experience of the sentiments of the Hindus of eastern United Provinces and Bihar, though he had served at Ghazipur and Banaras for about five years. He failed to realize that the new educated Hindu middle class rapidly emerging there was resilient and vitally different from the landed nobility of medieval days. The emphasis on vernacular education on the part of the government coincided with a movement for the introduction of Hindi, written in Devanagari characters, as the official language of the courts. In 1867, Hindi written in Kaithi characters (a running hand for keeping accounts in Bihar somewhat similar to Devanagari) was approved by the lieutenant-governor of Bengal as the official vernacular of Bihar. This change encouraged the protagonists of Hindi in Banaras. Sayyid Ahmad came into headlong conflict with them. Both Urdu and Hindi prose were in a preliminary stage at that time. Sayyid Ahmad was himself a founder of simple modern Urdu prose writing. The main controversy revolved around the question of a script. The use of both the scripts, or of Roman script, was suggested to him but he maintained a rigid attitude on the subject and transformed the Scientific Society's `Aligarh Gazette into a forum for the defence of Urdu. His successor, Nawwâb Muhin al-Mulk (1837-1907), suggested that he should also publish the translations of the Scientific Society in Hindi, as a compromise; but the Sayyid scornfully rejected the proposal.
During his visit to England (1869-70) he came in close contact with the conservative section of the country; studied the educational system of Cambridge; and was deeply impressed by the cultural and material progress of the West. In 1870 he started an Urdu journal entitled Tahdhib al-akhlaq to educate the Muslims for modernism, and to prepare the ground for the establishment of the Mohammedan Anglo-Oriental
1 Letter of Lord Mayo to Sir E. Perry, India Office, July 187o, Cambridge University, Add. 7490 (40).
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College at `Aligarh, which he started in the form of a school in 1875. Separate arrangements were made for teaching Sunni and Shi`i theology on traditional lines. Opposition to his religious views impelled Sayyid Ahmad to keep himself aloof from the management of the teaching of theology in the College. The foundation-stone was laid by Lord Lytton in 1877, and it started functioning in 1879 on the lines of the colleges of Cambridge. In 1877 Sayyid Ahmad supported the cause of simultaneous examinations for the Indian Civil Service in England and India. In a speech delivered during his tour of the Panjâb in 1884 he referred to India as one nation. Yet he was devoted to the cause of the education of Muslims, mainly of the upper classes, throughout the rest of his life. He was strongly opposed to the system of representation by election and was ‘convinced that the introduction of the principle of election, pure and simple, for representation of various interests on the local boards and district councils, would be attended with evils of greater significance than purely economic considerations './1
The establishment of the Indian National Congress alarmed some landlords of the North-Western Provinces. Its lieutenant-governor, Sir Auckland Colvin, was strongly opposed to A. O. Hume, the moving spirit behind the Congress movement. Sayyid Ahmad was alarmed. He thought that political agitation was likely to take a violent turn, and that if Muslims joined Congress the second phase of their ruin would begin; he imagined that the success of Congress would bring the domination of the Bengali Hindus throughout India. In speeches delivered at Lucknow in 1887, and at Meerut in March 1888, he strongly opposed the policies and programmes of Congress and advocated the strengthening of the hand of the British government. He advised the Muslims to concentrate their energies upon the acquisition of higher English education, and to rely upon the good sense of the government to safeguard their rights. He earnestly desired that `The Crescent and the Cross being united should shed their light over India'./2 He formed the Indian Patriotic Association and later on the United Indian Patriotic Association to mobilize the opinion of the landlords and influential sections of Indian society against Congress. He issued circular letters to Muslim associations all over the country urging opposition to the National Congress. His appeal did not receive a satisfactory response,
/1 C. H. Philips, The Evolution of India and Pakistan (London, 1962), 188-9.
/2 Sir Sayyid's address to Sir Auckland Colvin, 10 March 1888. `Aligarh Institute Gazette, 15 March 1888.
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and he soon decided to found a separate Mohammedan Anglo-Oriental Defence Association of Upper India to mobilize Muslim public opinion there in support of his point of view.
The contradictory and irreconcilable aims and objectives of his new association failed, like all his political preachings, to arouse the interest of the Muslims. The Muslim ta`alluqdârs of Oudh did not sympathize with the educational movement of ‘Aligarh, which was generally dominated by the zamindârs of the North-Western Provinces, Delhi and the Panjâb. The raja of Mahmûdâbad was planning to establish a separate Shi`i College, which his son founded in 1919. Several Urdu periodicals were pitted against his activities. His Mohammedan Educational Congress, founded in December 1886, which was renamed the Mohammedan Educational Conference in 1890, held its sessions mainly in the North-Western Provinces and the Panjâb. His `Aligarh Institute Gazette had a circulation of no more than four hundred. During the last years of his life, it was virtually controlled by the principal, Theodore Beck (1885-99), who regarded the Indian universities as centres of native rebels and a political evil of the first magnitude, and had a particular aversion to Bengalis. The strings of the student organizations in the College were always in the hands of Beck or some other English professor who never let slip any opportunity of instilling the benefits of loyalty to the British government into the minds of Muslim youth, and of injecting them with anti-Hindu communal views. The European staff considered themselves more in the capacity of residents accredited to the native states than as members of the teaching profession. In collaboration with the district officers, they played a leading role in the establishment of the Board of Trustees and in the selection of Sir Sayyid's successor. The private life of Sir Sayyid was embittered by the resignation in 189z of his own son, Sayyid Mahmûd, from the Allahabad High Court Bench because of his disagreements with the chief justice of Allahabad. Sir Sayyid Ahmad died broken-hearted on 27 March 1898. 
Modern Muslim scholars in India, drawing upon the thesis of Mawlânâ Muhammad `Ali and other nationalists, tend to depict him as a great nationalist and a well-wisher of all Indians, while the Pakistani scholars find in him one of the fathers of their nation. In fact he did not advocate separatism but tried to seek safeguards for the Muslims under indefinitely continued British rule.
As long as Britain remained friendly to the Ottoman empire, the claims of Sultan 'Abd ûl-Hamid II (1876-1909) to be the caliph of the
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Islamic world did not disturb him and his followers. Indeed, he popularized the use of the Turkish fez in India, and extolled the Ottoman Tanzimat. But the change in British policy after 1880 alarmed him; and he very strongly denounced the claims of Sultan 'Abd ûl-Hamid, and urged that the sultan's sovereignty or caliphate should be confined to his own territories.
The rise of Muhammad Ahmad b. 'Abd Allah, who claimed to be the Expected Mahdi in the Egyptian Sudan (1881), caused considerable panic among European officials in India. The religious significance of the movement was closely examined, and the intelligence service was alerted to discover where the sympathies of Indian Muslims lay. Sir Sayyid and Mubsin al-Mulk wrote articles theorizing on the rise of mandis in Islam, and convinced the European officials that Indian Muslims had no sympathy for the Mahdi of the Sudan. Pan-Islamic ideas were reinforced, mainly among the younger generation, by the successive visits of reformers such as Jamal al-Din al-Afghani to India, and by the sufferings and misfortunes to which the Muslims of the Middle East were thought to be exposed. Sir Sayyid was too much concerned with the present to pay attention to the future. He therefore fought incessantly against all ideologies which tended to arouse British suspicion about the loyalty of the Muslims. He advocated the cause of Muslim landowners, and had little sympathy with the common Muslims, though he occasionally shed tears of sympathy for them. He clung to the antiquated policy of the East India Company that education would ‘filter down' to the lower classes from their ‘leaders'. He drew inspiration from the political ideals of John Stuart Mill, and did not sufficiently realize the importance of contemporary political and economic forces.
His far-fetched interpretations of Qur'anic verses to prove his thesis that wahy (revelation) and natural ‘law' or ‘reason' were not conflicting and irreconcilable, failed to convince many of his closest associates. But his plea for a close examination of the Traditions ascribed to the Prophet Muhammad, even if they were embodied in the classical collections of Hadith, stimulated great interest amongst members of his own generation and among his successors too. They, like him, applied the theory to suit their interpretations of such institutions as polygamy and slavery, which were becoming more and more distasteful to Western opinion. One of his close associates, Chiragh `Ali, who had studied the reform movements of the contemporary Middle East, and had come in contact with Jamal al-Din al-Afghani, elaborated Sir Sayyid's thesis with great con-
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fidence. He powerfully advocated the view that all the wars of Muhammad were defensive, and that aggressive wars or forced conversion was not allowed in the Qur'an. The Spirit of Islam by Sayyid Amir `Ali (1 8491928) is not defensive in tone but uses the findings of contemporary Western scholarship and a powerful mode of expression to establish the contributions made by Islam to the betterment of mankind. Such works equipped Muslims to carry out a dialogue with the critics of Islam.
Among the galaxy of scholars that supported Sayyid Ahmad Khan in his educational programme but who pulled in different directions so far as his apologetics were concerned were Hâli, Shibli and Nadhir Ahmad. Shibli (I 857-1914)  wrote a large number of works in Urdu, including a detailed biography of the Prophet Muhammad, in which for the first time he applied Western methods of research to historical writings in Urdu, and tried to demonstrate that Islam strongly protected the rights of non-Muslims. He passionately justified the levy of ji'ya on non-Muslims, and sought to prove that it was not a discriminatory tax, and did not seek to humiliate the dhimmis. In 1879 Hâli (1837-1914) published his celebrated Musaddas, presenting in very appealing verse an account of the rise and fall of the Muslims. This work had a singular success and filled the Indian Muslims with pride in the past, and lamentations for the present. The work was intended to prepare them for the battle for life with understanding and confidence. Nadhir Ahmad (1831191 I) strongly defended the position of women in Islam, and urged their education on traditional lines. He endeavoured to reconcile the Shari`a with the everyday needs of Muslims, and urged that the laws of the British government, being the source of peace and prosperity for Muslims, deserved the same implicit obedience as the Shari`a. He did not hesitate to lend money on interest, and glossed over the injunctions concerning its illegality. He was a very good orator, and his subtle humour exercised great influence over his audience.
The traditional theologians strongly opposed the modernism of Sir Sayyid and his associates. They also were deeply concerned with the challenges that the Christian missionaries and the Arya Samaj movements offered to Islam, but they found the pseudo-intellectual fads of the westernized Muslims unsound and risky. The theologians trained at Deôband faced the above challenges on traditional lines. Dâr al-`Ulûm, a seminary of traditional Islamic learning at Deôband in the North-Western Provinces, was established by a famous theologian, Mawlanâ Muhammad Qasim Nanawtawi in 1867, and gradually attracted students
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from Afghanistan, Turkey and other Islamic countries. Since government rules did not permit assistance to theological institutions, Dâr al-`Ulûm depended on donations from Muslims. Mawlânâ Muhammad Qâsim himself took an active interest in defending the traditional Muslim position in all polemical discussions. After his death on 14 April 1880, he was succeeded by Mawlânâ Rashid Abmad Gangóhi who passionately believed that the study of philosophy undermined theological beliefs. He urged the Muslims to co-operate with the Hindus in wordly matters, and to participate in the activities of the Indian National Congress as long as the basic principles of Islam were not violated. On his death in 1905, Mawlânâ Mahmûd Hasan (1851-1921) a man of courage and great organizing capacity, succeeded him. He organized former students of Deôband from India, Afghanistan and Turkey into a body known as the Jam`iyyat al-Ansâr. The theologians of this school made important contributions to the idea of Islamic brotherhood and the unity of Islamic countries.
The Barélwis, or the followers of Mawlâwi Abmad Ridâ Khan (b. 1855) of Baréli, strictly adhered to the orthodox practices enjoined by the traditional theologians and the Sûfis, and made a very strong impact upon the religious beliefs of the Muslim masses in the United Provinces and the Panjâb. Nadwat al-' Ulama' was started at Lucknow in 1894, with the avowed objectives of bridging the gulf between the old and the new ideals of Islamic learning, and of rousing the `ulamâ', as custodians of the interpretation of the Shari`a, to the need for facing the challenges of the times effectively. The Shi'i theologians also copied the example of Nadwat al-`Ulamâ', and organized a similar body at Lucknow.
Early in his career, Mirza Ghulâm Ahmad (1839-1908) of Qadiyan in the eastern Panjâb, took an active interest in the polemics directed against the Arya Samajists and the Christian missionaries. In 1889, he experienced a mystical urge which led him to declare himself to be the promised Mandi or Messiah. His followers, who are known as the Ahmadiyya or the Qadiyânis, developed an organized and trained community in Qâdiyân, which was upset after the partition of 1947. There they tried to restore the pristine purity of Islam, and endeavoured to solve economic and social problems within the framework of their brotherhood. They are keen missionaries, and actively propagate Islam in Europe, Africa and America.
Expanding facilities for higher education in the third quarter of the nineteenth century contributed to the rapid multiplication of Muslim
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graduates everywhere in India, but most of the native Muslim princes and richer zamindârs sent their children to `Aligarh for higher education. The mere fact that a man's son was at `Aligarh enhanced his social prestige; many students there did not devote themselves seriously to studies but lived in idle elegance, willingly supported by their families. Some of them enthusiastically emulated English ways of life, etiquette and social behaviour. Most of them detested the compulsory theology classes and prayers; only a negligible number took an interest in them. This horrified the conservative Muslims, and a wide gap opened between them and the English-educated youths. The verses of Akbar of Allahabad (1846-1921) reflect the cultural tensions of the period. He bitterly mourned the fate of Muslims who acquired an English education in order to obtain higher government posts, but who were ultimately frustrated and disillusioned because of the want of adequate patronage from the British. He mercilessly criticized the growing indiscipline and neglect of parental authority among those who were educated in English. Unfortunately for him, his own son whom he sent (with most careful instructions about his behaviour) to London for higher education, threw his teachings overboard and married an English woman.
From the last decades of the nineteenth century, the Western style began to infiltrate systematically into the life of the English-educated Muslim aristocracy. Their village homes conformed to the traditional style of the eighteenth century, but those who possessed means tended to build bungalows of bastard Baroque or mock Gothic in Simla and other places where the European community retreated during the summer. There they found adequate opportunities for winning the favour of influential British officers. They were more than satisfied if their efforts won them the petty titles which, they imagined, established their superiority over the rest of the aristocracy, and certainly enabled them to obtain minor posts for their dependents.
Those who possessed resources sent their sons to England for higher education, where most preferred to seek admission to the bar, rather than to qualify as doctors, scientists or engineers. Those who did not possess adequate wealth or talents to read law in London, qualified themselves to practise in the district courts. Their strong links with the villages, most of them being themselves of zamindâr families, enabled them to earn a comfortable living and sufficient prestige in their own society. Soon these legal practitioners acquired more proprietary rights in the villages because of the ease with which they could learn about and
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profit from the financial difficulties of others. Thus, in 1901, of the seventeen barristers practising at Patna, twelve were Muslims. Of the eighteen advocates of the Allahabad High Court in 1901, ten were Europeans or Anglo-Indians, six Muslims, one Hindu, and there was one other./1
Since a literary education provided adequate opportunities for such ambitions as the Muslim youth then possessed, hardly any one in those days evinced any interest in technical education. So it was but natural that they should oppose the introduction of competitive examinations for services, and demand special privileges on the basis of their loyalty to the British government as a class, or of their links with the Muslim aristocracy.

THE MUSLIM POLITICAL AWAKENING

The political upheaval in the country, plague, famine, communal riots, movements relating to the protection of the cow, the Arya Samâj movement, and militant Marâthi and Bengali nationalism were all factors which drove the Muslims closer to the British government. The language question, however, shook the faith of a large section of the `Aligarh youth on the advisability of blind reliance on British protection. In 1900 Hindi was accorded the status of the court language in the North-Western Provinces and Oudh. The Muslims were naturally agitated; but the militant attitude of the lieutenant-governor silenced them.
Muhsin al-Mulk infused considerable life into the activities of the Mohammedan Educational Conference. Its Bombay session, held in December 1904, was presided over by Badr al-Din Tayyibji, who did not fail to criticize the policy of the Muslims of `Aligarh and their College. He also tried to mobilize the support of Muslim theologians in favour of the `Aligarh educational movement. The Anjuman-i Himâyat-i Islâm of Lahore also made considerable efforts to invigorate the lives of the Muslims on the lines suggested by Sayyid Ahmad Khan. These efforts, however, did not go far towards satisfying Muslim youths not belonging to the landed nobility. Muslim graduates of other universities were intolerant of the preferential treatment accorded to the products of `Aligarh and the need for political awakening and political education was increasingly felt.
1 B. B. Misra, The Indian middle classes (London, 1961), 329-3o.
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Lord Curzon's partition of Bengal (October 1905) which created a separate Muslim province of Eastern Bengal and Assam, promised fresh avenues to success, chances for higher education, and increased rank and responsibility to the Muslims of Eastern Bengal, particularly to those of Dacca, the capital. Nawwâb Salim Allah of Dacca, who, according to Sir Bampfylde Fuller (the lieutenant-governor of the new province and a most enthusiastic supporter of Curzon), was `not a wise man' but `exhibited courage and loyalty in the attitude he maintained' on partition,' became the leader of the Muslims overnight. The popular agitation that followed in the wake of the partition made the Muslims of other provinces restive. The Swadeshi movement, which among other aspects promoted the use of the handlooms and spindles of the Muslims of Bengal, was a significant challenge to the ideology of `Aligarh. Realizing its importance, Mubsin al-Mulk urged Muslims to develop their handicrafts on the lines suggested by the agitators with a view to saving themselves from being left behind in the handicraft race as they had been left behind in others.
On 3 August 1906, Fuller offered his resignation in the hope of impressing the central government with the urgency of an unimportant matter. To his surprise, it was at once accepted; and as he had publicly stood forth as a champion of the Muslims, some turbulence seemed likely. The sensation was shortlived, however, and according to the viceroy was not ` so acute as to necessitate heroic measures'. /2 The excitement died down more quickly than was expected. However, the partition was accepted as a fait accompli. Lord Minto urged, `in fact the Mohammedan community, when roused, would be a much stronger and more dangerous factor to deal with than the Bengalis './3
The budget speech of the secretary of state for India, Lord Morley, (August 1906) embodying broad outlines of the introduction of reforms, evoked considerable interest on the part of Mubsin al-Mulk who was finding it exceedingly difficult to pursue the policy of Sir Sayyid any longer. The factors leading to the presentation of an address embodying Muslim demands by a deputation to the viceroy on 1 October 1906, the formation of the Muslim League in December 1906, and the acceptance
/1 Letter of Fuller to Curzon, 18 October 1905, Curzon Papers, Mss. Eur. F. III (212); India Office, London.
/2 Reply to the letter of Archbold, principal of the Mohammedan Anglo-Oriental College `Aligarh ; Dunlop Smith to L. Hare, 24 August 1906, Minto Papers, National Library of Scotland, Edinburgh.
/3 Letter of Minto to Arthur Godley, 17 October 1906, Minto Papers.
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of the principle of a separate Muslim electorate have recently been examined at some length on the basis of the Minto and Morley papers by Wasti and Das/1 from their respective points of view. An evaluation of the entire correspondence and the contemporary literature shows that the importance which the viceroy attached to Muhsin al-Mulk's letter (which led to the deputation) and the manner in which the suggestions for the deputation were worked out indicate that such an opportunity was eagerly awaited. Certainly, no time was lost in exploiting the situation to the full.
The battle for reforms was fought mainly in London by Amir 'Ali, the Aga Khan (Agha Khan) and `Ali Imam, who subsequently appeared on the scene, though Theodore Morison, the former principal of `Aligarh, played a leading part. The newly formed Muslim League was dominated mainly by members of the Mohammedan Educational Conference, and thus embodied the landed nobility and its protégés. Its permanent president, the Aga Khan (the imam of the Isma’ilis) was born in 1877 and had come in contact with Sir Sayyid Ahmad Khan and Muhsin al-Mulk as early as 1896. His appointment to the Legislative Council of Lord Curzon at the end of 1902 immensely enhanced his prestige among the Muslims, though he was warned by the governor of Bombay, with the approval of the viceroy, of the adverse effects of his lack of orthodoxy, his being over-anglicized and his fondness for European women'./2 Of the younger generation, closely in touch with the youth of `Aligarh, was Muhammad `Ali (1878-1931). At the suggestion of the lieutenant-governor of the province, the Aga Khan transferred the League's headquarters from `Aligarh to Lucknow : the lieutenant-governor was frightened, 'lest the lawyer party, consisting of young and irresponsible persons, would attain a predominant position in the League, and that they might at some time coalesce with the advanced Hindu politicians against the Government on one or more questions, and later on rue the fact that they have done so'./3
The achievements of the Muslim League did not satisfy the educated Muslim youth. They were increasingly imbued with those pan-Islamic sentiments which had been so carefully controlled by Sir Sayyid Ahmad and his followers. Fadl al-Hasan Hasrat Muhani, one of the most
/1 S. R. Wâsti, Lord Minto and the Indian Nationalist movement 19.95 to 1910 (Oxford, 1964); M. N. Das, India under Morley and Minto (London, 1964).
/2 Letter of Curzon to Lemington, 4 January 1904, Curzon Papers, India Office Library, London, F. 111 (209).
/3 Letter of Hewett to Minto, 3 February 191o, Minto Papers.
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influential students of the period at `Aligarh, who edited a literary journal, was imbued with the revolutionary doctrines of Tilak, preached them fearlessly, and was convicted of sedition in 1908. Muhammad `Ali, although in the service of Baroda, frequently visited `Aligarh after his return from Oxford in 1902, and aroused political consciousness among the students.
The transfer of the headquarters of the Muslim League from `Aligarh to Lucknow (1 March 1910) brought it under the greater control of leaders from Oudh, eastern United Provinces and Bihar. The Aga Khan and his associates in their efforts to retain their leadership hurriedly launched a scheme for raising the College at `Aligarh to the status of a university, with a view to diverting the attention of Muslims from politics to educational progress. The funds collected exceeded two million rupees. The younger generation did not favour government control over the proposed university. They wanted to make it a central institution with power to affiliate Muslim institutions all over India. The Muslims of Eastern Bengal were also lukewarm in their support. The secretary of state refused to grant the power of affiliation and the scheme petered out. These events would not have proved more than short-lived ripples on the waters of Muslim politics, if the situation had not been aggravated by the successive misfortunes befalling the Ottoman empire, Persia and Morocco in 1911, 1912 and 1913.
Shibli, who had come to believe that an oligarchy of the `ulama' under his own leadership might control Indian Muslim politics, was bitterly opposed to the policies and programmes of the Muslim League. On the basis of first-hand knowledge of the affairs of the Middle East, he aroused the sympathies of Indian Muslims for their co-religionists. His disciple Muhammad `Ali, who had left the Baroda service towards the end of 191o, took up a journalistic career and in January 1911 started the publication in Calcutta of the Comrade with the motto, the comrade of all and partisan of none'. The paper was financed mainly by the Aga Khan and `Ali Imam, and shifted to Delhi with the transfer there of the seat of government. Hamdard, its Urdu ` stable-companion' as Muhammad `Ali called it, was started at the close of 1913.
Mawlana Abu'l-Kalam Azad (1888-1958), who had obtained considerable journalistic experience under Shibli, also travelled through Cairo and Turkey in 1908, and came in contact with the leaders of the Young Turk movement and other revolutionaries. He commenced a scheme for revitalizing Indian Muslims through his journal al-Hilâl
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which began in June 1912,  marked a turning-point in Indian journalism, and soon reached a circulation of 26,000. Azad utilized pan-Islamic feelings to whip up religious frenzy and arouse political consciousness among the Muslim masses. He strongly supported the need for a universal caliph and entertained the ambition of himself assuming the status of imam of all Indian Muslims. His immense learning, and mastery of the contemporary reform movements of the Middle East, endeared him even to the theologians, though most of them were envious of his increasing success and prestige. The Mawlana himself regarded them as conservative and backward, but he could not ignore them if he was to realise his own dreams. He was in close touch with a number of Indian revolutionaries. Indeed, jihad and armed revolution to overthrow foreign domination were, in his opinion, identical in all respects. Al-Hilâl and its sister-journal al-Balâgh preached the notion of the Qur'anic state, which the Mawlana's spiritual radicalism gradually transformed into a highly potent living force. He ridiculed the modernism of `Aligarh, as well as the backwardness of the traditional theologians, and denounced them both as blind copyists. He emphasized that the development of the sciences in the West did not necessarily undermine religious beliefs. What was needed by the Muslims was a resilient attitude towards the true Islamic values.
Intellectually much inferior but even more popular was the Zamindâr of Zafar 'All Khan, who never let slip a single opportunity to make capital of even the pettiest Muslim grievance. A number of other Urdu journals and newspapers in the United Provinces and Bihar also aroused political awakening among the Muslims. Dr (later Sir) Muhammad Iqbal (z 876-1938), who formerly strove to worship in a naya shiwâlâ (new temple) of Hindu-Muslim amity and concord, set a new tone for their thinking by preaching `that Islam as a spiritual force would one day dominate the world, and with its simple nationalism purge it of the dross of superstitions as well as of Godless materialism'.' His occasional verses were quoted ad infinitum by public speakers and whipped up the sentiments and emotions of the simple, intensely religious and sincere Muslim masses.
Amir 'All, the founder of the London branch of the Muslim League and an uncompromising fighter for a separate electorate, was disillusioned after the reversal of the partition of Bengal (December 1911). He regarded it as a conspiracy between the Aga Khan, the nawab of
1 Afzal Igbal (ed .), Select Writings and Speeches of Maulana Mohammed Ali (Lahore, 1944), 51.
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Dacca and the British government. He wrote to Lord Curzon on 4 January 1912, 'A telegram, copy of which I beg to enclose, reached the London League yesterday from the Honorable Syed Nawab Ally Choudhry for the East Bengal Provincial League. It was a very clever move to attempt to muzzle Salimollah with a G.C.I.E. and Aga Khan with a G.C.S.I. and it has partially achieved its objects'.' His proposals for closer cooperation between the Hindus and the Muslims because of the Italian aggression upon Tripoli, and Russian moves against Persia, evoked a sharp rebuff from Muhammad `Ali. An appeal to religion to arouse Muslim sentiments against foreign domination, became a convenient weapon in the hands of an important group of Muslim politicians in India, and retarded political awakening on a rational basis.
The Balkan War of 1912 inflamed Muslim feelings in India against the Western powers to the highest intensity. Funds were raised, and a medical mission was despatched. After the Russian bombardment of Mashhad, in 1912 and an absurd Italian threat to attack the Ka`ba from the air, all the holy places were conceived to be in danger. Their protection made a stronger appeal to the Indian Muslims than the difficulties of the Ottoman empire and Persia. Shawkat `Ali, the elder brother of Muhammad `Ali, in collaboration with Mawlana 'Abd al-Bari, the head of the theologians of the Firangi Mahall in Lucknow, founded the Anjuman-i Khudddm-i Ka`ba (Society of the Servants of the Ka`ba) with a view to uniting Mussalmans of every sect in maintaining inviolate the sanctity of the three barams of Islam at Mecca, Medina and Jerusalem', Theologians of the Firangi Mahall, who had hitherto kept themselves aloof from modern politics, became increasingly important; Muhammad `Ali and Shawkat 'All did not respond to Mahatma Gandhi's programme until Mawlana 'Abd al-Bari of Firangi Mahal had meditated and sought divine grace './3
The demolition of a corridor of a mosque in Kanpur, on 1 July 1913, in order to improve the alignment of a road, named after the lieutenant-governor, stirred the resentment of the Indian Muslims very strongly. Several Muslim papers wrote passionately about the high-handedness of the government. Sir James Meston, the lieutenant-governor in question, conveniently laid the entire blame on the rising generation of the Muslims who according to him found `a remunerative employment in agitation'.
1 Curzon Papers, Eur. F. Iii (434) India Office Library, London.
2 My life: a fragment, 67.
3 A. K. Azâd, India wins freedom (Calcutta, 1959),  9.
95
Indeed, the incident was `the first internal pretext ',/1 but the resentment was not confined to one particular section.
After the Ottoman declaration of war against Britain, the Indian Muslim press was intensely agitated. The confiscation of the papers and presses of Muhammad 'All, Abu'l-Kalam Azad and zafar `Ali Khan, and their internment along with Shawkat 'Ali, suppressed the expression of pan-Islamic feelings for the time being. The Aga Khan, who could not accept the policies and programmes of the pan-Islamists, left the League after 1912, and it had to depend mainly on the raja of Mahmizdabad for its finances. A Congress-League rapprochement was exceedingly helpful for satisfactory recruitment and the prosecution of the war. No one was better suited to achieve this than the raja of Mahmûdabad and Sayyid Wazir Hasan (later knighted), the secretary of the League from 1912 to 1919, who sincerely treasured the values of traditional Hindu-Muslim amity which the court of the nawabs of Oudh had fostered. Muhammad 'All Jinnah (1876-1948), a leading Bombay barrister who was invited to join the Muslim League by Muhammad `Ali and Wazir Hasan in London in 1913, became a trusted leader of the Congress and the League.
In 1915 Congress and the League held their sessions simultaneously at Bombay. The Congress-League scheme of 1916, whereby Congress agreed to a scheme for separate Muslim electorates (which it hitherto had strongly condemned) was the outcome of the co-operation and amity that developed in the wake of rising pan-Islamic feelings. The League and Congress worked in close co-operation for six more years. Congress, though dominated by Tilak's Hinduism and his Home Rule movement, did not arouse a sense of danger to Islam in the minds of the Muslim Leaguers of those days. Both Hindus and Muslims expressed their dissatisfaction with the Montagu-Chelmsford Report, published in July 1918. The establishment at Delhi by `Ubayd Allah Sindi, a student of Deóband, of an institution named Nk rat al-Ma`ârif al Qur'âniyya, to train the Muslim youth of `Aligarh, educated on Western lines, in the Qur'anic ideology of Shah Wall Allah, lent a romantic colour to the union of Deóband and `Aligarh. The Silk Letter conspiracy of 1915,  in which the students, teachers and the principal of Deóband took an active part, adequately reflect revolutionary trends in the Deóband theologians.
/1 Minute by Sir James Meston, Lt. Governor of the U.P., 21 August 1913, Home Department, Political Proceedings No. Ioo/118, October 1913, Paras. 3o-31, National Archives, New Delhi.
96

Indian Sufism (S.A.A. Rizvi)

Seule histoire détaillée du sufisme indien privilégiant les figures présentées avec d’excellents dits et citations ; il fallait bien y consacrer mille pages denses tout en s’abstenant de tout bavardage. Lecture austère qui explique la diffusion limitée compte tenu de l’état actuel d’une Inde de la droite de Modi renfermée sur ses traditions excluant les apports Moghols. Aussi une nième réédition par Munshiram (New Delhi) paraît aujourd’hui improbable. 
Justesse dans la choix des dits et citations : l’auteur n’est pas seulement historien comme le suggère « Dedicated to the memory of the Sufis and Saints » mais impliqué - tout en étant d’une parfaite objectivité et sachant limiter ses sources (v. manuscrits, voir tome I pages 4 et suivantes)
Longue gestation : « This has been collected and analyzed over a period of twenty years and the present volume commites to paper only during 1973-74 » (tome I page 2)
Respect chronologique
Figures mises en avant ce qui conduit aux mille pages (~40 l/p ~60 c/l > 2400 c/p > 2.4 millions de c soit proche de la Bible qui en utilise 4.0 millions) 
Figures mises en avant très préférable aux présentations par écoles obligées pour toutes histoires globales (Trimingham) ou toutes présentations brèves. 
Excellentes citations > les rassembler puis les distribuer en thèmes ? 

Originaire d’une grande famille shiite, « Athar Abbās Rizvi soon transformed from an agnostic into a godfearing mystic. He grew a beard, established a library and an Imāmbada in his Aligarh house, where he would return each Muharram during the last decades of his life. I very well remember Athar Sahib coming to my house for the majlis with a bundle of books wrapped in a red cloth. And till the start of majlis¹⁰³ he would sit on a sofa with that bundle of papers, busy in making corrections. I once asked what was it? He said proofs of a book on the Indian Shias. He would also sometimes after the majlis go to where my father’s books were kept in our home library and sit there for hours. He would fast every thursday, recite ‘āmāl i Āshūr every week. He ultimately died in Mashhad, Iran and is now buried within the precincts of the Shrine of Imām i Reza, from whom he traced his descent. (témoignage October 25, 2020 by nadeemrezavi fils d’un proche de Rizvi).

On ne présente ici qu’ une fraction de l’oeuvre : deux cartes, l’Introduction, la Naqsbandiyya¹⁰⁴.

1. Perso-Islamic World.



2. Sind wa Hind (India). 

Acknowledgement

THE author wishes to express his deep sense of gratitude to the librarians of the libraries and museums in the U.K., Europe, the middle east, and south-east Asia who gave him access to their valuable collections. Special thanks are due to the librarians who supplied microfilm copies of their manuscripts or published works.
Mr Devendra Jain of Munshiram Manoharlal Publishers Pvt. Ltd., New Delhi, deserves the author's special thanks for not only agreeing to publish this work but also for prompting him from time to time to - complete it expeditiously.
Miss Stephanie Alsaker, the author's research assistant, took great pains in revising the drafts and making them presentable to readers. Miss Josephine Anderson typed the manuscript with proficiency and enthusiasm. The author wishes to thank them, along with the printers and proof-readers whose labours enabled the work to see the light of day.
S.A.A. RIZVI
1 January, 1978.
Department of Asian Civilizations Australian National University Canberra, A.C.T., Australia.

Note on Dates

MUSLIM dates are given according to the Hijra era or the event marking the Prophet Muhammad's emigration from Mecca to Medina. Although he arrived in Medina on 24 September 622, seventeen years later the Second Caliph `Umar (634-44) instituted Muslim dating on the basis of the lunar months, beginning with Muharram. Thus the first Muharram was calculated to have fallen on 16 July 622. The adoption of the lunar calendar leads to the loss of one year every thirty-three years of the Roman calendar. Hence 1392 Hijra (H) or Anno Hegirae (AH) begins in 1972 AD and not in 2014. Of the two dates separated by an oblique in this book, the first is the Hijra (H) or Anno Hegirae (AH) and the second is AD. Where neither H. nor AD is mentioned alongwith dates, AD is invariably implied.
All equivalent dates have been taken from Wustenfeld-Mahler' sche Vergleichungs-Tabellen.

Introduction

THE terms, sufi, Wali-Allah (protégé of God), dervish and faqir, are applied to Muslim spiritualists who attempt to achieve a development of their intuitive faculties through ascetic exercises, contemplation, renunciation and self-denial. There is no doubt that sufism or Tasawwuf conjures up images of such institutions and customs as saint cults, fascination with the occult, thaumaturgic and orgiastic practices, a mysterious world of visions and miracles, erotic poems and lascivious dancing. However, a significant section of sufis managed to help their followers to stabilize their emotions and to inculcate an understanding among different groups within the Muslim community.
By the twelfth century sufism had become a universal aspect of Islamic social life whose influence had spread to all Muslims. There were also an important number of sufis who, transcending religious and communal distinctions, promoted the interests of humanity at large. On the whole, sufism gave meaning and mission to the religious feelings and beliefs of a wide cross-section of society, both in India and in many parts of the Islamic world.
The present work seeks to study sufism as a psycho-historical phenomenon, the author seeing it as a potential force to meet social and political challenges produced by protracted political upheavals, associated with autocratic oppression and economic deprivation. It is divided into two volumes105.
The first volume outlines the history of sufism before it was firmly established in India and then goes on to discuss the principal trends in sufi developments there from the thirteenth to the beginning of the sixteenth century. Chronologically it is concerned with sufi history from the establishment of the Delhi Sultanate to the beginning of the Mughal empire. Naturally it lays great emphasis on the Chishtiyya, Suhrawardiyya, Firdausiyya and Kubrawiyya orders, but the contributions made by galandars and legendary and semi-legendary saints have not been neglected. A detailed discussion of the interaction of medieval Hindu mystic traditions and sufism shows a unique polarity between the intolerant rigidity of the orthodox and the flexibility of the sufis in India.
The fifteenth century also saw the introduction to India of the Shattari

2	 
and the Qadiri orders. These orders, along with the Naqshbandis and Chishtis, will be discussed in the second volume. This will also outline the impact of Indian sufis on the contemporary Islamic world, concluding with the influence of modernism on sufism in India.
Mainly concentrating on the development of Indian sufi orders and their internal conflicts and external threats, the two volumes deal with only the most important personalities of each order, their basic teachings and their contributions to religious, mystical, social, economic and political thought. They are not intended to be a directory of Indian sufis.
 , Vols. I and II, have been based mainly on Arabic and Persian sources, but they have also drawn on sufi works in the main regional Indian languages. Research scholars of this century, particularly during the period after the Second World War, have brought to light a large number of original sources on Islamic religion, philosophy, mysticism and sociology. Some of these have been published, others await publication. A few have been translated into English and European languages. Microfilm facilities have made even remote libraries accessible to scholars throughout the world. Such extensive collections as those of Sir Salar Jang of Hyderabad, Nauwab Habibu'r-Rahman Khan Shirwani of Habibganj, Aligarh, and of Professor Hafiz Mahmud Shirani in Lahore, have now been deposited in various libraries and museums and can therefore be researched by scholars. However many works, especially those in Persian and Arabic published last century, are still in private collections and remain beyond the reach of scholars. The present work and its second volume use material available in public libraries in the United Kingdom, Europe, the Middle East, South Asia and South-East Asia. This has been collected and analyzed over a period of twenty years106 and the present volume committed to paper only during 1973-74.
In order to maintain uniformity, as far as possible, references have been made to manuscripts and books available in public libraries. Thus many works published in the nineteenth and twentieth centuries and available only to a fortunate few have been by-passed in favour of their manuscript copies to be found in libraries available to all. Printed material from such libraries as that of the India Office, London, has been rapidly disappearing and it has therefore been considered prudent to refer to manuscript material which has been more carefully preserved. Moreover, the manuscripts used as source material for this work are older and more reliable than the nineteenth and early twentieth century publications, some of which were neither carefully edited nor accurately printed. A large number of these publications even fail to mention manuscripts from which the editions were prepared107.
The material used for this work can be divided into the following categories:
1. Treatises in prose and verse written by leading sufis who are dis-
Introduction108
cussed in this book.
2. Letters written by leading sufis.
3. Sufi discourses known as malfuzat.
4. Doctrinal works based on the above three categories.
5. Sufi biographical dictionaries.
6. Histories; and the biographies of nobles and poets.
7. Medieval geographies and accounts written by travellers, sailors and pilgrims.
In the first chapter of this volume we have discussed the evolution of sufi literature. In subsequent chapters, mystic literature written by Indian sufis has also been described. Here we give an analysis of the Persian sufi malfuzat and the biographical dictionaries which are principal sources for this work.
The discourses delivered by a leading sufi to a select gathering of sufi disciples and visitors gave rise to a distinctive genre of Persian literature. This was known as malfuzat (conversations or discourses) which also contained didactic poetry, anecdotes and apophthegms.
There were two classes of compilations of authentic discourses. Firstly there were discourses which were collected by a descendant or disciple of the sufi long after his death and which were generally divided into such sections as a brief biographical sketch, main teachings, miracles and an account of the type of contemplation and ascetic exercises undertaken by the Shaikh. Such works were based on the anecdotes which members of the sufi's family and his disciples remembered and sometimes letters exchanged with important personalities would also be incorporated. The flavour of this type of literature differed little from that of Christian hagiological works.
The most dependable are the malfuzat109 of the second category which consisted of discourses recorded soon after they were delivered by a pir, and which were also dated. At times sufi masters revised the drafts themselves and confirmed the accuracy, or otherwise, of these statements.
The earliest known book in the first category is the Halal wa Sukhanan-i Shaikh Abu Sa`id bin Abul Khair /1 of Mayhana (Mehna or Meana). It was the work of Jamalu'd-Din Abu Ruh, a great-grandson of Shaikh Abu Said. The author's cousin, Muhammad bin Munawwar bin Abi (Abu) Said bin Abi Tahir bin Abi Sa`id, wrote a longer work incorporating a large part of his predecessor's work, calling it Asraru't-Tawhid Fi Maqamat-i Shaikh Abi Sa'id110. It was started in 548/1153-54, but not until around 570/1174-75 was it completed and dedicated by its author to the Ghurid Sultan Ghiyasu'd-Din (1163-1203). The work is divided into three sections. The first (pp. 3-42) gives an account of the early life of Shaikh Abu Sa`id and the second section deals with the Shaikh as a

/1 Details of editions and manuscripts may be seen in the Bibliography.

Introduction
4	 
middle-aged man. This part is further sub-divided into three chapters : the first and largest chapter (pp. 45-204) deals with the miracles of Shaikh Abu Sa`id; the second chapter (pp. 207-94) discusses anecdotes of other sufis related by the Shaikh; and the third chapter (pp. 295-344) contains miscellaneous teachings of the Shaikh. The third section deals with the old age and death of the Shaikh. This is also sub-divided into three chapters : the first (pp. 347-53) contains the Shaikh's last testament ; the second (pp. 354-60) is an account of his death and the third (pp. 361-92) describes his miracles.
The Asraru't-Tawhid was designed to glorify the mystical achievements of Shaikh Abu Said and presents him as a supernatural being. Nevertheless, glimpses of the economic and social life of the Shaikh which tend to emerge accidentally are both informative and entertaining.
To cater for the spiritual curiosity of gullible admirers, the spurious malfuzat of the great Indian Chishtis were embroidered by anonymous authors who were bereft of either a feeling for history or a first-hand knowledge of the lives of their heroes. Some of these works are:
1. The Anisu'l-Arwah, the alleged discourses of Shaikh `Usman Harwani; the authorship attributed to Shaikh Mu'inu'd-Din Sijzi.
2. The Dalilu'1- `Arifin, the alleged discourses of Shaikh Mu`inu'd-Din ; the authorship attributed to Shaikh Qutbu'd-Din Bakhtiyar Kaki.
3. The Fawa'idu's-Salikin, the alleged discourses of Shaikh Qutbu'd-Din Bakhtiyar Kaki; the authorship attributed to Shaikh Faridu'd-Din.
4. The Asraru'l-Auliya', the alleged discourses of Shaikh Faridu'd-Din; the authorship attributed to his son-in-law, Maulana Badr Ishaq.
5. The Rahatu'l-Qulub, the alleged discourses of Shaikh Faridu'd-Din; the authorship attributed to Shaikh Nizamu'd-Din Auliya'.
6. The Afzalu'l-Fawa'id, the alleged discourses of Shaikh Nizamu'd-Din Auliya'; the authorship attributed to Amir Khusraw.
7. The Miftahu1-'Ashigin, the alleged conversations of Shaikh Nasiru'd-Din Chiragh-i Dihli; the authorship attributed to Muhibbu`llah./1
In the fourteenth century this literature greatly increased, mainly spurred on by a need for information about the early Chishti saints down to the period of Shaikh Nizamu'd-Din Auliya'. On 15 Muharram 710/20 September 1301 a visitor to the Shaikh referred to a book written by him. The latter, however, denied having written anything at all./2 His disciple, Shaikh Nasiru'd-Din Chiragh-i Dihli, also categorically refuted that any of his predecessors had written sufi texts. He added that the malfuzat of Shaikh Qutbu'd-Din and Shaikh 'Usman Harwani were not available 

/1 For a detailed discussion on these books see M. Habib, 'C'hishti mystic records of the Sultanate period,' Medieval India quarterly, Aligarh, I, October, 1950, no. 2, pp. 1-42.

/2 Amir Hasan Sijzi, Fawa'idu'l-Fu'ad, Bulandshahr, 1272/1855-56, p. 52. 5

while Shaikh Nizamu'd-Din Auliya' was alive or else he would have mentioned them./1 Nizami has ventured the hypothesis that the fabricated works tried to fill a vacuum in the Chishti silsila caused by the transfer of the capital by Muhammad bin Tughluq from Dehli to Daulatabad in the Deccan. /2
The view is untenable for unauthentic sufi literature had already begun to appear by the time of Shaikh Nizamu'd-Din Auliya', as the reference to his alleged work would tend to indicate; it also shows the daring of the authors who ascribed books to saints who were still living.
This type of pious forgery was not peculiar to sufis, the Qussas or story tellers during the first and second centuries of Islam and the forgers of the Hadis of the Prophet Muhammad were many. The same is true of works ascribed to both earlier and later sufis. A pressing popular demand for details of teachings and miracles of sufis, especially those of Shaikh Nizamu'd-Din Auliya' and his predecessors, as described by Barani, were the main incentives for the output of fabricated malfuzat. /3
Although the historical sense and form of teaching ascribed to sufi leaders depicted in the unauthentic malfuzat are quite incredible111, they nevertheless catered to the insatiable popular taste for details of the miracles of mystics, as well as those of yogis and galandars. They also provided for the proselytizing militancy of many Muslims whose concerns were not really with sufism, but in the assertion of their own superiority in the field of religion.
The distorted sufi image produced by these phony malfuzat seems to have prompted Shaikh Nizamu'd-Din Auliya' to urge his disciple and gifted scholar, Amir Hasan Sijzi, to complete his project of writing a malfuzat. Early in 1308, Amir Hasan Sijzi decided to write the discourses of Shaikh Nizamu'd-Din Auliya' in diary form. On 8 Shawwal 708/18 March 1309, after the Shaikh again referred to the great benefits to be gained from the discourses, maxims and anecdotes of sufis, Amir Hasan mentioned that his pir had stressed this point so many times, that it had prompted him to compile a book of the Shaikh's conversations. Shaikh Nizamu'd-Din answered that he also had tried to write down what he had heard from Shaikh Faridu'd-Din (Baba Farid), but that he, too, had always been by what he said that he was unable to write a word./4 Amir Hasan then produced a draft he had prepared of an account of the Shaikh's discourses over a period of thirteen months. After reading the draft, Shaikh Nizamu'd-Din praised them and filled in a few remaining gaps.
The book of the discourses of Shaikh Nizamu'd-Din Auliya' only included an account of the fifteen years up to 722/1322-23. It was known as the Fawa'idu'1-Fu'ad. Amirasan's official duties often kept him

/1 Maulana Hamid Qalandar, Khairu'l-Majalis, ed. K.A. Nizami, Aligarh, 1959, p. 52.

/2 'Chishti mystic records of the Sultanate period, Medieval India quarterly, I, no. 2, p. 39. 3Ziya'u'd-Din Barani, Tarikh-i Firm: Shahi, Calcutta, 1860-62, p. 346.

/3 FF, pp. 34-5.

6	 
outside Delhi but during a stay in the capital, he would attend the Shaikh's assembly once a week. Not every week's discourses, however, are recorded; those from the years such as 709-10/1309-10,717-18/1317-18 and 721-22/1321-22 are only briefly mentioned; the most widely covered are the years 708-09/1308-09.
Usually the discourses were on an ad hoc basis. They resulted from questions by those gathered around the Shaikh on religious, economic or social issues. The sermons included references to the Qur'an, Hadis, anecdotes and the sayings of previous sufis and were intended to fulfill the religious and ethical needs and emotions of the audience, and were not necessarily founded on authentic sources. Never in debate form, the discourses failed to include an analysis of opposing views and were believed to bear the stamp of infallibility. This tended to produce a rigidity in the thinking of the devotees of the great Shaikh and to prevent the emergence of a detached rationality112.
The aphorisms of Shaikh Nizamu'd-Din on economic, social and political topics also carried great weight and tended to supplement existing literature although their views did not necessarily reverse the data provided by historians. For example, the views of Shaikh Nizamu'd-Din Auliya' about Nur Turk's leadership in the attempted overthrow of the government of Raziyya are not necessarily correct/1. Nevertheless the conversations were written down immediately they had taken place or shortly afterwards, and were therefore a record of the spontaneous reaction of the Shaikh and an invaluable analysis of the religious, social, ethical and economic values of his period.
Informative and interesting, rather than methodical, the collection of the sayings of Shaikh Hamidu'd-Din Nagauri and of his grandson Faridu'd-Din Mahmud was called the Sururu's Sudur and was written by the long-lived grandson of Shaikh Hamidu'd-Din Nagauri. This work throws considerable light on Sultan Muhammad bin Tughluq's intense devotion to the descendants of Shaikh Hamidu'd-Din Nagauri. What emerges from the book is the image of a considerate and compassionate ruler, in contrast to the capricious and cruel character portrayed by Barani and Ibn Battuta113.
The Khairu'l-Majalis by Hamid Qalandar was a significant work containing discourses by Shaikh Nasiru'd-Din. Like the Fawaidu'l-Fu'ad, its accounts are not dated. It is even more voluminous than the latter, consisting of one hundred chapters and an appendix. Shaikh Hamid first came into contact with Shaikh Nasiru'd-Din (d. 1356) in 754/1353-54 and was encouraged by him to write an account of the latter's discourses. Earlier, a section of malfuzat written by the Shaikh's nephew had so disappointed the Shaikh that he had rejected the draft. Although he had

/1 FF, pp. 204, 212. For further discussions on this point see S.A.A. Rizvi, Religious and intellectual history of the Muslims in Akhar's reign, Delhi, 1975, p. 9.

Introduction	7
sufficient confidence in Hamid, the work was regularly supervised. The Shaikh survived for only a few years after the commencement of the book and therefore his many memories of these earlier years evoked in him traditional feelings of nostalgia. To Shaikh Nasiru'd-Din, the days of Shaikh Nizamu'd-Din Auliya' became the golden era in the history of the Muslims in India; he believed that both the great saint and Sultan `Ala'u'd-Din Khalji had achieved the highest possible standards in religion and statecraft respectively. The confusion and consternation produced by Sultan Muhammad bin Tughluq's religious policies among a section of Delhi's religious élite was replaced by the orthodoxy of Sultan Firuz, but neither the reversal of the former policies, nor the new liberal grants to khanqahs satisfied the aged Nasiru'd-Din Chiragh.
Although one can lament the lack of dates in the Khairu'l-Majalis, its discourses, a compendium of the ethics of Chishtis, give a lively picture of the changing pattern of their attitude towards social and economic dilemmas. The Fawaidu l-Fu'ad and the Khairu'l-Majalis are the best examples of the art of malfuzat writing.
Following a precedent established by the disciples of Shaikh Nizamu'd-Din Auliya' and Shaikh Nasiru'd-Din, the compiling of malfuzat became an important feature of khanqah life. Among those books which have survived are the Ahsanu'l-Aqwal, discourses of Shaikh Burhanu'd-Din Gharib and the Jawami`u'l-Kilam, those of Saiyid Muhammad Gisu Daraz. The malfuzat of Shaikh Husamu'd-Din Manikpuri, the Rafiqu'l Arifin, have also been discovered and give interesting insights into Chishti centres in small towns.
The malfuzat of Saiyid Muhammad Ashraf Jahangir Simnani of Kichaucha written by his disciple Nizamu'd-Din Yamani, is a lengthy work. It features an introduction and sixty chapters, called Latifas (Elegant Sayings). Besides giving a brief account of the Saiyid's travels, it discusses all the traditional topics of interest to sufis and is therefore a significant encyclopaedia of their ideas. It also manages to combine, most skilfully, Irani elements of sufism with their counterparts in India.
Malfuzat-i Ashrafi, by Nizam Hajji, is largely based on the Lata'ij--i Ashrafi, but its author also adds some new material on sufism.
Shaikh `Abdu'l-Quddus Gangohi wrote the malfuzat of Shaikh Ahmad 'Abdu'l-Haqq of Rudauli and Shaikh Ruknu'd-Din, the son of Shaikh `Abdu'l-Quddus Garigohi, was the author of his father's malfuzat. These works not only give a new dimension to the teachings of leading sufis but make useful additions to our knowledge of the contemporary scene and the types of lives experienced by the common people. As well as giving glimpses into the daily routine of a khanqah, they take us down to the lower echelons of Muslim society, and show that the passivity and inertia of its members was matched only by their firm faith in Allah. Although Shaikh 'Abdu'l-Haqq Muhaddis refers to the malfuzat of Shaikh Sadru'd-Din and Shaikh Ruknu'd-Din neither has survived.
				
8	 				
However short extracts from these works which were reproduced in the Akhbaru'l-Akhyar are highly informative.
 Largely modelled on the pattern of the Fawa'idu'l-Fu'ad, though lacking the mystical sensitivity of the ideas expressed by Shaikh Nizamu'd-Din Auliya', is the collection of utterances of the celebrated Suhrawardi saint, Saiyid Abu `Abdu'llah Jalalu'd-Din Husain bin Ahmad Bukhari, better known as the Makhdum Jahaniyan. The account dates from Sunday 8 Rabi' II 781/24 July 1379 and ends on Tuesday 17 Muharram 782/23 April 1380, during the time of Shaikh's visit to Delhi. It was the work of his disciple Abu `Abdu'llah `Ala'u'd-Din `Ali bin Sa`d bin Ashraf bin `Ali al-Quraishi al-Husaini. The Makhdum Jahaniyan encouraged the author in his undertaking and clarified particular points he could not understand. The work was called the Khulasatu'l-Alfaz Jami'u'l- `Ulum. Another of the Makhdum Jahaniyan's disciples, Makhdumzada `Abdu'llah, compiled .a summary of discourses delivered by the great saint on different occasions, but these lack the pithiness of those featured in the Khulasatu'1-Alfaz. The work is entitled the Siraju'l-Hidaya. The Khazinat al-Fawa'id al Jalalaliyya, composed by Ahmad bin Ya`qub in 752/1351 and the Khazinah-i Jalali by Abu'l Fazl bin Ziya' are compendiums of the teachings of the Makhdum Jahaniyan which, however, lack the personal touches contained in malfuzat.	
The scholars of the Firdausiyya order also collected the discourses of their pirs. Of the malfuzats from this order, the most notable is the Ma `danu'l-Ma'ani. This book contains the discourses of Shaikh Sharafu'd-Din Ahmad bin Yahya Munyari or Maneri, a profound scholar and the author of about fifteen books. His malfuzat were collected by a disciple called Zain Badr `Arabi. The work contains discourses delivered by the Shaikh between 15 Sha`ban 749/8 November 1348 and the end of Shawwal 751/December 1350. Like the Fawa'idu'l-Fu'ad, the sermons in the Ma `danu'I-Ma `ani are related with deep mystical insight and the work is colourful yet reverential in style.				
Another collection of Shaikh Sharafu'd-Din's discourses produced in 762/1360-61 is entitled Malfuz-i Safar. It includes an illuminating reference to the second expedition of Sultan Firuz to Bengal. Travelling from Jaunpur towards Orissa, via Bihar, the Sultan and his army aroused panic and terror among the masses in Bihar and the Shaikh advised them to remain in their houses for protection. There is also a reference to a Bengali Sultan named Ikhtiyaru'd-Din Ghazi, who issued his own coins between 750/1349-50 and 753/1352-53 but is otherwise unknown.				
Salah Mukhlis Dawud Khani, another disciple of Shaikh Sharafu'd-Din, spent some time in arranging in book form the discourses of his pir. These included those given between 21 Sha`ban 774/15 February 1373 and I Muharram 775/23 June 1373. Another collection of the Shaikh's discourses, the Ganj-i La Yafna was also compiled. Those by a later Firdausiyya saint from Bihar, Shaikh Husain Mu`izz Balkhi, were also collected under a similar title, the Ganj-i La Yakhfa.		
The earliest known biographical dictionary of sufis written in India is the Siyaru'l-Auliya' fi Muhabbat al-Haqq jalla wa'-ala', simply known as the Siyaru'l-Auliya', which was the work of Saiyid Muhammad bin Mubarak bin Muhammad 'Alwi Kirmani. Known as Amir or Mir Khwurd, the Saiyid was the grandson of Saiyid Muhammad bin Mahmud Kirmani, a merchant who traded hetween Kirman in Iran and Lahore. During business trips to Lahore via Ajodhan, he would call on Shaikh Faridu'd-Din Ganj-i Shakar, who was known as Baba Farid, and on one occasion became his disciple. Saiyid Ahmad Kirmani, an uncle of Saiyid Muhammad bin Mahmud, an officer in the Multan mint, married his daughter to Saiyid Muhammad. Although his father-in-law pressed him to remain in Multan, the Saiyid finally settled in Ajodhan and for about eighteen years loyally served his pir. After Baba Farid's death, the Shaikh and his sons migrated to Delhi and became great companions of Shaikh Nizamu'd-Din Auliya'.		
Saiyid Muhammad died in 711/1311-12. His eldest son, the father of Amir Khwurd, was also a disciple of Baba Farid and seems to have obtained initiation from Khwaja Qutbu'd-Din Maudud, the son of Khwaja Abu Yusuf of Chisht. His devotion to Shaikh Nizamu'd-Din Auliya' was also great.		
Amir Khwurd obtained a high degree of scholastic education, however, the serenity of Shaikh Nizamu'd-Din Auliya's jama `at-khana had filled him with a fervent love for mysticism. Despite Amir Khwurd's youth, Shaikh Nizamu'd-Din Auliya' made him his disciple. His association with such literary giants as Amir Khusraw, Amir Hasan, Fakhru'd-Din Zarradi and Ziya'u'd-Din Barani helped to develop his own intellectual and mystical sensitivities.		
In 1327 Sultan Muhammad bin Tughluq, for reasons which will be explained at greater length, forced the 'ulama' and sufis to migrate to Daulatabad114. Amir Khwurd was a reluctant participant in this mass exodus of the élite. After a few years, along with others, he was allowed to return but for him it came too late; the life of an exile had filled him with deep bitterness and disappointment. Previously he had assiduously avoided becoming a disciple of Delhi's great Shaikh, Nasiru'd-Din, but after his return he did so, in an attempt to find some form of spiritual comfort at the jarna'at-khana, of Shaikh Nizamu'd-Din Auliya's successor.		
Still bearing the marks of his exile, Amir Khwurd decided to unburden his personal frustrations by writing biographies of the Chishti saints. He wrote a detailed biography of Shaikh Nizamu'd-Din Auliya', with reference to his many disciples and to his teachings. His material was based on first-hand information and he had access to the papers of the great Shaikh. This task was performed by Amir Khwurd with tremendous enthusiasm and devotion. Carefully he tried to avoid details of miracles and super-		
10	 
natural feats, much in demand at the time, but could not restrain himself from recording that each night during the Shaikh's lifetime a flying camel had stopped at the window to take Nizamu'd-Din Auliya' to the Ka`ba and bring him back in time for early breakfast. Regarding the conflicts between the Delhi saints and Sultan Muhammad bin Tughluq, naturally Amir Khwurd tended to side with the former, as he himself was personally involved in the struggle. However, reading between the lines it is not difficult to assess that by that time sufis in Delhi had tended to depart from the traditions established by the early Chishtis and had become used to the way of life in the capital and were therefore less than keen to depart to a more hostile and alien environment in the Deccan.
Despite Amir Khwurd's subjective judgments, the work presents an overall picture of the private and public lives of sufis during the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries. The inner feelings of the sufis are bared. Their lives both in the fama `at-khanas and their own houses are exposed and both their friends and enemies are introduced. From the pages can be gleaned ideas about the many groups in Delhi society: members of the court, the princes, the governing classes, the `ulama', merchants, agriculturalists, artisans and the common Muslims. It shows that the lives of Muslims in that affluent eastern capital, continually replenished by the proceeds from booty and plunder, were burdened by serious problems. Accommodation was one of the gravest difficulties encountered by the average citizen in Delhi and employment in the metropolis was exceedingly hard to find. The Siyaru'l-Auliya', the most authentic record of about half a century of life in Delhi, stresses the social and economic tensions caused by many divergent influences and through religious conflicts.
The Khulasatu'l-Manaqib by Ja`far Badakhshi, a disciple of Mir Saiyid `Ali Hamadani, is an interesting collection of stories said to have been related by the author's pir, and also incorporates anecdotes and legends about, and verses composed by other Irani sufis. From these stories, one can gather that the Mir held an exaggerated idea of his own importance. The work does not refer to the Mir's activities in Kashmir, but it nevertheless generally manages to portray his personality most effectively. The Khulasatu'l-Manaqib was started in 787/1385, however, the date of its completion is unknown.
In 831/1427-28, Muhammad `Ali Samani wrote a biography, the Siyar-i Muhammadi of Saiyid Muhammad bin Yusuf Husaini, who was much better known by his nick-name, Gisu Daraz. But the work, to some extent, was a failure because of its unending praise of its subject and the sequence of events which proves confusing. The Mahbubiyya by Najmu'd-Din Yusuf bin Ruknu'd-Din Muhammad Nia`mu'llah Gardezi covers various stories in the life of the Makhdum Jahaniyan, Saiyid Jalal Bukhari, and the latter's son, grandson and great-grandson. The Nafahatu'l-Uns min Hazaratu'1-Quds by Shaikh Nuru'd-Din `Abdu'r-
Introduction	11
Rahman Jami, completed in 883/1478-79, is an enlarged version of Shaikh `Abdu'llah Ansari's Tabaqat al-Sufiyya. The biographies of sufis who flourished in Iran between the eleventh and fifteenth centuries based on research done by Jami are indispensable for the study of the sufis of three centuries preceding the author's own life. It also briefly discusses some Indian sufis, however, Jami's sources here were not very reliable. The Rashahat-i `Ainu'l Hayat of Fakhru'd-Din Husain `Ali bin al-Husain al-Wa`iz Kashifi, written in 909/1503-04, is valuable for the information it gives on the Naqshbandis and for its clarifying of some minor points relating to the period covered in the present volume.
The most important work for this study, however, is the Siyaru'l Arifin of Hamid bin Fazlu'llah. Also known as Dervish Jamali Kambo Dihlawi, the author's full biography is given in Chapter Five. The work was written between 937/1530 and 942/1536 and includes a full account of the leading Chishti and Suhrawardi saints of the period. Although a Suhrawardi, Hamid bin Fazlu'llah did not hesitate to draw on material from Chishti malfuzat in his account of Suhrawardi saints. This appears to be the first available history of the Suhrawardi order compiled in this way. The most invaluable portions of the Siyaru'l-Arifin are those which give details about Indian sufis which were collected from centres of sufism outside the sub-continent in Syria, Iraq, Iran and Central Asia. Although these stories were related by the author's hosts in these places, and were not necessarily accurate, they do reflect the image of Indian sufis abroad at that time.
Before his death in 994/1586, Baba Dawud Khaki Kashmiri Suhrawardi completed a short biography, entitled Wirdu'l-Muridin, written in metre, of his pir, Shaikh Hamza Kashmiri (d. 1576). The work in the main is highly eulogistic and fails to give many biographical details.
The most dependable and scholarly collection of biographies of Indian sufis is the Akhbaru'l-Akhyar ti Asraru'l-Abrar. Its author, Shaikh `Abdu'l-Haqq bin Saifu'd-Din al-Turk al-Dihlawi, was born in January-February 1551 and died in 1642-43. His long life was spent in an unremitting pursuit of knowledge, and his studies took place both in India and Hejaz. Being trained as a scholar of Hadis, he was famous as a muhaddis. His close male ancestors and relatives were also scholars and mystics. His library was extensive and included all the malfuzat and sufi works written in India, as well as a large number of works written outside India. Shaikh `Abdu'l-Haqq was a masterly critic of Hadis and was therefore well-equipped to investigate the authenticity and historical value of religious traditions. His skill can be clearly seen in his Akhharu'I-Akhyar fi Asraru'l-Abrar which incorporated 225 biographies of Indian sufis. The book began with a note on Shaikh `Abdii'l-Qadir Jilani and ended with an account of the author's own ancestry and some details of his life. Using as model the Tabaqat literature of the biographies of narrators and transmitters of the Ahadis (traditions of the Prophet Muhammad)
12	 
and of the sufi Tabaqat literature, discussed in Chapter One, Shaikh `Abdu'l-Haqq classified the biographies into three sections (tabaqas) which covered the following sufis :
1. Khwaja Mu'inu'd-Din Sijzi, his contemporaries and disciples.
2. Shaikh Faridu'd-Din Ganj-i Shakar and his followers and disciples.
3. Shaikh Nasiru'd-Din Mahmud Chiragh-i Dihli and sufis from his time to that of the author's.
Such a classification helped Shaikh `Abdu'l-Haqq to place the biographies of sufis whose dates were questionable into a reasonable historical sequence, thus avoiding the acceptance of dates based on unauthentic traditions. He scrupulously excluded all references to supernatural and miraculous elements, highlighting instead the mystical and spiritual ideas, ethical behaviour and psychological perceptions of the great sufis, using authentic malfuzat and the letters and writings of the sufis themselves115. Although a large number of malfuzats have now been discovered, a considerable body of such literature still remains in obscurity and our best source of information for biographies still remains the Akhbaru'l-Akhyar. Although some biographies are extremely brief, a large number present a detailed outline of the lives and spiritual achievements of many sufis. Shaikh 'Abdu'l-Haqq's work was written before 996/1588 but was later revised in 999/1590-91. The work was welcomed by the Shaikh's contemporaries and was of great use to later scholars.
Shaikh Abu'l-Fazl 'Allami (1551-1602) the great historian of Akbar's reign also collected a great deal of sufi biographical literature and malfuzat with the intention of writing a work like that of Shaikh 'Abdu'l-Haqq. He finally managed only to give short biographies at the end of the A 'in-i Akbari. However, his nephew, 'Abdu's-Samad, used the material collected by his uncle to complete, in 1015/1606-07, the Akhbaru'I-Asfiya', patterned on the Akhbaru'l-Akhyar of Shaikh `Abdu'l-Haqq. Although the book adds some new information, it lacks the mystical and scholarly insights contained in Shaikh 'Abdul Haqq's work.
In 1045/1635 Baba Nasib Kashmiri (d. 1047/1637), a disciple of Baba Dawud Khaki, wrote a Rishi Nama. Contrary to the emphasis on ascetic withdrawal, previously seen in the teachings and lives of Rishi hermits, the work implies that by that period the Rishi order was filled with enthusiastic evangelists for Islam. Imbued with the orthodox Sunni spirit of Shaikh Hamza, the author is strongly hostile to Shi'is. Another Rishi Nama by Baha'u'd-Din Baha Mattu is based on Nasib's and was completed in 1248/1832. It adds little to our knowledge and abounds with endless legends and rhetoric.
During the seventeenth century a large number of sufi biographical dictionaries were compiled. The most important will now be mentioned. Like the Akhbaru'I Akhyar, the Gulzar-i Abrar written by Muhammad
Introduction
Ghausi bin Hasan bin Musa Shattari, was based on vast amounts of source material available at the time and contains the biographies of 575 sufis. The author was a friend of Abu'l-Fazl and Faizi. A resident of Mandu, Muhammad Ghausi was a Shattari, but his knowledge of other orders and their leading mystics was extensive. Analytical in his approach, he clearly understood the social and moral role of sufis in the context of his period and took great care to place his biographies in a proper historical sequence. The Gulzar-i Abrar was dedicated to the Emperor Jahangir.
The sober tone of these biographical dictionaries was discarded by `Ali Asghar bin Shaikh Maudud bin Shaikh Muhammad Chishti of Fathpur. He used a eulogistic style in his Jawahir-i Faridi to glorify the spiritual achievements of Shaikh Faridu'd-Din Ganj-i Shakar and his descendants. They were the ancestors of Shaikh Salim Chishti whose prayers were said to have been responsible for the birth of Akbar's son, Prince Salim, later Emperor Jahangir. The author drew his material from the many legends surrounding Shaikh Faridu'd-Din Ganj-i Shakar and his spiritual descendants. Their myths related to the performance of supernatural feats such as flying through the air and to the conversion of huge numbers of Hindus, the latter being quite contrary to the Chishti mission, were also included. The work was completed in 1033/1623.
Similarly legendary and fantastic in the recounting of Chishti miracles, particularly of the Sabiriyya branch, is the Saiyaru'l-Aqtab of Ilah-diya which was completed in 1056/1646-47.
The Zubdatu'1-Mugamat by Muhammad Hashim compiled in 1037/ 1627-28 is a biographical dictionary of the Naqshbandis but also offers some interesting details of the Chishtis and other early sufis.
Muhammad Sadiq Kashmiri Hamadani who lived during the reigns of Jahangir and Shah Jahan wrote the biographies of 125 sufis who were all buried in Delhi, and called the book the Kalimatu's-Sadiqin. In this work the author has skilfully interwoven the lives of the Delhi saints against their historical background, thus giving his work an authoritative perspective. He also wrote a detailed biographical dictionary of Indian sufis called the Tabaqat-i Shah-Jahani.
The Majma'ul-Auliya' of Mir `Ali Akbar Husaini Ardastani, which was dedicated to Shah Jahan, is a massive work incorporating the biographies of about 1,400 sufis, both Indian and non-Indian. Sultan Muhammad Dara Shukoh (born 1615, killed 1659), the eldest son of Shah Jahan wrote a number of sufic works of which the Safinatu'l-Auliya', containing short biographical notes and completed on 27 Ramazan 1049/21 January 1640, is an interesting and carefully executed work. Dara Shikoh's sister, Jahan Ara Begum, the favourite daughter of Shah Jahan, was equally interested in sufism. Of her works the best is Munisu'l-Arwah, a biography of Shaikh Mu'inu'd-Din Chishti and his disciples, which was completed in 1049/1640.
	14	 					
Shaikh `Abdu'r-Rahman Chishti, a descendant of Shaikh Ahmad `Abdu'l-Haqq of Rudauli, who succeeded to the leadership of the Chishti	order in 1032/1622 was an interesting personality. A scholar of Sanskrit, he gave new explanations to the Bhagavad-Gita in the light of Islam, most notable is his work, the Mir'atu'l Makhluqat, which associated the Hindu cosmogony of Yoga-Vashisht philosophy with Muslim beliefs. He was	 keenly interested in the legends of qalandars and sufis. His Mir'at-i Madari and the Mir'at-i Mas'udi will be discussed in Chapter Five.					
Shaikh `Abdu'r-Rahman's monumental work was the Mir'atu'l-Asrar, which covered the biographies of sufis from the early days of Islam to the time of Husamu'd-Din Manikpuri (d. 853/1449). The book was started	in 1045/1635 and not completed until 1065/1654. The Shaikh could not resist the temptation to record many miracles and legends, which by that time were an integral part of the beliefs associated with sufis. His lengthy work discusses in detail a large number of unknown sufis.					
Equally interesting for the extensive information it contains of sufis between Shikohabad in Mainpuri (U.P.) and Jaunpur, is the Chishtiyya-i Bahishtiya or Firdausiya-i Qudsiya of Shaikh `Ala'u'd-Din Muhammad Chishti of Barnawa, (near Delhi). The author's knowledge of the music used in sufi sama' rituals enabled him to give useful details about different aspects of the development of music in northern India. The work seems to have been completed sometime around 1076/1665-66.					
The Asraru'l-Abrar of Mishkati, completed in 1065/1654-55, contains biographical notes on Kashmiri sufis, both orthodox and Rishi. Although the author finds it difficult to by-pass the opportunity to emphasize the successful missionary activities of the Irani Kashmiri sufis, he also mentions the profound influence that Lalla, the prominent Shaivite yogini, had on Nuru'd-Din Rishi and also quotes some sayings of the Rishis.	
Ghulam Mu'inu'd-Din `Abdu'llah Khweshgi of Qasur, thirty miles south-east of Lahore, was a scholar of rare ability. His career spanned the reigns from Shah Jahan to Muhammad Shah (1719-48). Of his many works, the Ma`ariju'l-Wilayat, written in 1094/1682-83 features a most important collection of biographies of Indian sufis. Although it is not analytical, Ghulam Mu'inu'd-Din's work is important in that it quotes at great length excerpts from the writings and letters of sufis and of their documents which are not to be found elsewhere.	 
In 1111/1699-1700, Muhammad Bulaq bin Muhammad Khalidi Dihlawi completed a detailed biography of Shaikh Nizamu'd-Din Auliya', his disciples and their spiritual descendants. The work is largely based on the Siyaru'l-Auliya'. It is called Matluhu't-Tahin. The Zikr-i Jami'-i Auliya'-i Dinh, completed in 1140/1727-28 by Muhammad Habibu'llah bin Shaikh Jahan Akbarabadi, is modelled on the Kalimatu's-Sadiqin and gives an account of the Delhi sufis. The Sawati`u'I-Anwar of Muhammad Akram, completed by the author in 1142/1729, is a large collection of biographies of Chishti saints. The Rauzatu'l-Auliya' by					
			Introduction	15			
Mir Ghulam `Ali Azad Bilgarami, written in 1161/1748, is an interesting biography of ten saints buried at Khuldabad.				
A continuation of the Siyaru'1-Auliya', known as the Zikru'1-Asfiya fi Takmilat Siyaru'l-Auliya' dar Mangahat-i Shamsu'I-Huda, was the work of Gul Muhammad Ma`rufi Karkhi Chishti Ahmadpuri, who died in 1827. It is a valuable record of the lives of seventeenth and eighteenth century Chishtis.				
Biographical dictionaries written by nineteenth century sufis are numerous and have been mentioned in the Bibliography. It is worthwhile to mention here, however, that the Khazinatu'1-Asfiya', completed in 1281/1864-65 by Mufti Muhammad Ghulam Sarwar of Lahore is the most widely read of these. Ghulam Sarwar was a prolific author and he himself published several books on the biographies, sayings and achievements of sufis, as well as a history of India which included a brief sketch of English history. The author had a vast library of books on sufism which, at the end of the nineteenth and in the early twentieth century, were dispensed amongst a large number of Panjabi book lovers and scholars. The Khazinatu'l-Asfiya' refers at length to many earlier sources, and its author believed these should all be considered of equal importance, even though many confused fact with fiction. Using unreliable sufi family trees, Ghulam Sarwar accepted every date given in these texts and composed verses of chronograms. The publication of this work synchronized with the impact of British liberalism in India, giving scholars an opportunity to glorify the mission of sufis and the impact of their miracles in the Islamization of the sub-continent.				
Political chronicles refer to sufis only in connection with their political rôle in history or in short biographical notes either at the end of each reign or in the conclusion of the works themselves. Abu 'Umar Minhaju'd-Din `Unman bin Siraju'd-Din Muhammad Juzjani, the author of the Tabaqat-i Nasiri, was an 'alim and a qazi but he was also a friend of sufis. In his work he emphasized that it was the blessings of a dervish which enabled Sultan Shamsu'd-Din Iltutmish to succeed to the throne of Delhi./1 Isami gave a different colour to this particular story. Some sufi biographical dictionaries included the name of the Sultan in their list of sufis. Some recent scholars have tried to prove that Iltutmish was a sufi./2 However, Minhaj Siraj gave a vivid picture of the leadership of Nur Turk in his bid to overthrow Raziyya. Minhaj also gives a graphic account of a Turkish dervish named 'Ayyub, who became the favourite of Sultan Mu'izzu'd-Din Bahram Shah (1240-42). The dervish seized the opportunity in an attempt to seek revenge on Qazi Shamsu'd-Din, who had previously treated `Ayyub badly. His attempts to have the Qazi trampled to death by elephants seem to have been thwarted by the				

/1 Minhaj Siraj, Tabagat-i Nasiri, Calcutta, 1863-64, pp. 167-68.

/2 K.A. Nizami, Studies in medieval Indian history and culture. Allahabad, 1966, pp. 24-40.

						
16	 
`ulama'. The Sultan had undoubtedly sought to crush the power of the `ulama' but under the leadership of Saiyid Qutbu'd-Din they managed to overthrow the Sultan himself in 1242./1 Although Qazi Minhaj Siraj himself headed another group amongst the `ulama', he was strongly opposed to the attempts at domination and the intriguing of the rival party and certainly did not approve of sufis dabbling in the political arena.
Ziya'u'd-Din Barani, the author of the Tarikh-i Firuz Shahi, was both an 'alim and a sufi, but above all he was an ambitious courtier. His work is an interesting psychological study in the analysis of the background to conflicts between different groups at all levels of society. Dealing with both pathological behaviour and the essential needs of human behaviour, Barani outlines the sufi response to the momentous historical and political developments between 1266 and 1357.
The Moorish traveller, Shamsu'd-Din Abu `Abdu'llah Muhammad, known as Ibn Battuta, who was born at Tangier on 17 Rajab 703/24 February 1304, heads the list of famous travellers to India who put pen to paper to record their experiences. Leaving Tangier on 13 June 1325, Ibn Battuta travelled through North Africa, Egypt, Syria, Mecca, Iran, Iraq, Asia Minor, Transoxiana and modern Afghanistan, before arriving in the Indus valley on 12 September 1333. From there he went to Delhi and in July 1342 travelled to the Deccan, the Indian coastal regions in the south, Maldives, Ceylon, Bengal, Assam, Sumatra and China. He returned to Africa via Sumatra, Malabar, the Persian Gulf, Iraq, Syria, Egypt, Hejaz, before reaching Fez in November 1349. Visits to Granada and Morocco were also made by Ibn Battuta who then journeyed across the Sahara before returning to Sijilmasa at the end of 1353.
In Fez he dictated the account of his travels to the scholar, Ibn Juzayy (1321-1357) whose services were placed at his disposal by the Marinid king Abu `Ivan (1349-58) of Fez. The work was completed in December 1357. A final draft was ready early the following year, which the author called Tuhfat al-Nuzzar fi Ghara'ib al-Amsar wa 'Aja'ib al Asfar, but which was also known by the simple title, the Rihla. Ibn Battuta died in Morocco in either 1368-69 or 1377.
Throughout his long travels Ibn Battuta stayed in both Islamic and non-Islamic countries, but even in countries where Islam was not the dominating religion, he found a sizable Muslim population. He came into contact with a broad cross-section of society, had many new experiences and underwent much hardship. He served at many courts and was the guest of many rulers, nobles and members of the `ulama'. Ibn Battuta also stayed with merchants and members of the artisan guilds (asnaf), in sufi khanqahs and in the hospices run by the Akhi and Futuwwa organizations. He also was a keen observer of the customs and lives of qalandars and yogis. What makes Ibn Battuta's Rihla invaluable is that it also contains a

/1 Tabaqat-i Nasiri, pp. 195-97.

 [carte intéressante omise]
comparative study of the political, economic, social and religious institi tions of the various countries the author visited and the penetratir analysis of his impressions.
The Arabic maritime literature, the accounts of other travellers an the works describing sufi tombs, khanqahs and ribats (`hospices') alp manage to shed interesting light on the development of sufism in ti Islamic world. An important work, for example, is the Isharat ila ma `rife al-ziyarat by al-Harawi who died in 611/1214.
Other historical and geographical works which add further details t the study of sufism in India, and its relation to the rest of the Islam world, may be seen in the Bibliography.

3. HOMMES DU BLÂME & NAQSBANDIYYA

J’assemble quelques sources rares et sérieuses, extraits choisis au sein de sources secondaires (car rédigées en anglais et français). Le chapitre ne permet pas de rédiger une synthèse compte tenu du persan, de l’ourdou, du hindi, langues des sources primaires mises de côté. Heureusement, on bénéficie de milliers des grandes pages patiemment assemblées avec remarquable objectivité et constantes références aux sources primaires par l’historien Rizvi.

On ouvre le chapitre sur Les mystiques musulmans de M. Molé.¹¹⁶

Puis un solide résumé présente l’ordre Naqsbandiyya par son spécialiste reconnu.

Thibon fait découvrir l’historien (et spirituel caché) Sulami qui vécut vers l’an mil. On retrouvera infra Sulami décrivant vie et règle des « hommes du blâme ».

Trimingham est l’Oxfordien historien généraliste reconnu décrivant clairement les ordres sûfis et leurs filiations.

Hujwiri vécut en Inde lui aussi peu après l’an mil. Auteur du premier manuel « local » influent sur les sûfis indiens – son texte apprécié par bien d’autres reste à lire au-delà de notre extrait.

A brief history of the Naqshbandi order (Hamid Algar)

In the view of its practitioners/1 , tasawwuf is coeval with Islam itself, in reality if not in name, for its essential doctrines and practices are derived from the twin sources of all that is Islamic — God's Book and the Sunna of His Messenger. It is, therefore, only approximately correct to regard a legitimate order as originating at a given point in history under the auspices of its eponym. Each Sûfi order is rather the separate crystallization of an initiatic tradition that reaches back to the first age of Islam and the matchless person of the Prophet who, in the words of the Persian poet Fakhr ad-Din `Iraqi (d.688/1289), is "the Sûfi in the hospice of the All-Compassionate"/2. Herein lies the ultimate sense of the silsilas, the chains of transmission that connect the practitioner of tasawwuf with the source of tradition, not only chronologically but also in the suprahistorical realm of the spirit. The authenticity of the silsilas, particularly in their earliest links, is frequently questioned by a certain historicism that is blind to all but copious and explicit documentation. Quite apart from the testimony of the Sûfi orders themselves, both written and oral, there is the general consideration that the elaboration of Islam as a religious system — despite all the vicissitudes of its history — shows a remarkable continuity from its earliest period. This holds true not only of tasawwuf, but also of the disciplines of fiqh, in which we see a process of continuous transmission from the Ahl as-Suffa to the founders of the madhâhib, and hadith, where several lines of both written and oral transmission connect the earliest traditionists with the great master Bukhari./3
In the devotional life that is the particular concern of the Sufis, no hiatus, no sudden shift in direction is to be observed, but only a gradual unfolding and elaboration of that which was initially implicit, concrete and immediate. In its process of elaboration, tasawwuf first acquired its distinct identity as the inner
1 This essay in compression originated as the extended version of a paper given at a conference on the Naqshbandi order held at the University of Chicago in 1980. Since the papers of that conference were never published, the piece is included in this volume, with certain modifications and additions, in the hope that it will provide a useful survey of Naqshbandi history. For inevitable over-lapping with other chapters [of the book, référé infra], as well as numerous lacunae, the author begs the forgiveness of his fellow contributors and his readers.
Référence: NAQSHBANDIS Cheminements et situation actuelle d'un ordre mystique musulman / Historical Developments and Present Situation of a Muslim Mystical Order /Actes de la Table Ronde de Sèvres, Proceedings of the Sèvres Round Table 2-4 mai / 2-4 May 1985 / édités par Marc GABORIEAU, Alexandre POPOVIC et Thierry ZARCONE /publiés par l'Institut Français d'Études Anatoliennes d'Istanbul ÉDITIONS ISIS ISTANBUL – PARIS, 1990
2 Fakhr ad-Din `Iraqi, Kulliyât, ed. Sa’id Nafisi (Tehran, 1338 Sh./1959), p. 203.
3 See Fuad Sezgin, Buhari'nin Kaynaklari (Istanbul, 1956).
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dimension of Islam, a process parallel and complementary to the codification of the law, and then underwent internal self-differentiation with the rise of the various Sûfi orders. This elaboration, with its two essential stages, was not an extraneous or accidental development. On the contrary, the Sufis — and among them, with particular emphasis, the Naqshbandis — have always regarded themselves as the custodians of the integral practice of the Prophet and his Companions. Thus Muhammad Murâd al-Bukhari (d. 1142/1729), who introduced the Mujaddidi branch of the Naqshbandi order to Western Asia, defined the Naqshbandi path as being "the way of the Companions, with neither addition nor subtraction."/4
The first link in the Naqshbandi silsila after the Prophet is Abû Bakr as-Siddiq, who in the view of the Naqshbandis is not merely the first caliph and an eminent Companion of the Prophet but also a figure of unparalleled spiritual status — the best of all men after the prophets. They adduce numerous hadiths in support of this view, above all that in which the Prophet says, "God has poured nothing in my breast that I have not in turn poured into the breast of Abû Bakr."/5 This transmission from breast to breast is taken to imply bestowal of the essence and methods of the Sûfi path. Naqshbandis also discover particular significance in Abû Bakr's epithet of siddiq, awarded him by the Prophet because of his immediate and unquestioning belief in the Prophet's bodily ascension to heaven. Shaykh Ahmad Sirhindi the Mujaddid (d. 1034/1624) — a figure of cardinal significance to be discussed below — wrote in his celebrated Maktûbât: "The station of the siddiq is the highest station of sanctity, for immediately above it lies the station of prophethood. The knowledge that came to the Prophet by way of revelation (wahy) was unfolded to the siddiq by way of inspiration (ilhâm), and the only difference between the two forms of knowledge lies in their respective modes of reception... Any station beneath that of the siddiq inevitably bears some trace of intoxication: total sobriety is to be had only at the station of the siddiq."/6 From this clarification of the status of the siddiq follows the supreme excellence of the initiatic tradition inaugurated by An Bakr, the only one among the Companions to be designated by the title of as-Siddiq. It is also held that the distinctive sobriety of the Naqshbandiya, its strict adherence to the shari’a and shunning of outward display, is a characteristic ultimately inherited from the siddiq who is the fountainhead of Naqshbandi tradition.
/4 Muhammad Murad al-Bukhâri, acephalic treatise in Arabic, ms. Murat Buhari 206, f. 2b.
/5 Mahmud Hakki (pseudonym for a contemporary Turkish shaykh), Ebu Bekir es-Siddik (n.p., 1337/1919 — a deliberately incorrect date), p. 54.
/6 Shaykh Ahmad Sirhindl, Maktûbât (Amritsar, n.d., reprinted Karachi 1392/1972), I, p. 109.
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Through its invocation of Abû Bakr, the Naqshbandi order is set apart from virtually all other Sufi orders, which trace their ancestry to `Ali b. Abi Tâlib. Although a secondary line of Naqshbandi descent leads back to 'Ali, by way of Ja`far a-Sadiq and the intermediate members of the imamite line, bakri ancestry is proudly emphasized. One Naqshbandi source, admittedly anomalous, even claims that `Ali's own spiritual initiation took place at the hands of Abu Bakr, thus depriving Ali of a direct initiatic relation with the Prophet./7 The major consequence of this insistence on bakri rather than alawi ancestry has been an emphasis on a silent mode of dhikr — invocation and remembrance of God — instead of a vocal one. This emphasis was crucial in the crystallization of the Naqshbandiya as a separate order. Instruction in vocal dhikr, it is said, was first given by the Prophet to `Ali, and from him transmitted to the diffuse spiritual progeny that claims him as ancestor. Silent dhikr, by contrast, was first given to Abû Bakr in the cave where he and the Prophet took refuge during the hijra. The Qur'ânic verse (9:40) that alludes to this incident contains the phrase, "then God sent down His peace (sakina) upon him," and in this peace is seen a reference to the silent dhikr as a divinely bestowed method of attaining to God's presence./8
A second consequence of the bakri origins of the Ñaqshbandiya has been its acquisition of a certain immunity against the crypto-Shi’i developments that took place in many orders with an alawi ancestry. Although the status of `Ali in Sunni esoterism is different from the position accorded him by Shi`ism, certain devotional attitudes to him and his descendants, reminiscent of Shi`ism, are to be found in numerous orders, particularly from the seventh/thirteenth century onward./9 The Naqshbandiya has remained largely although not totally exempt from the penetration of such attitudes. We may indeed say that the Naqshbandiya is unique among Sufi orders in its explicit hostility to Shi`ism. This hostility derives not only from bakri ancestry, but also from the fact that the first diffusion of the Naqshbandiya in the Sunni world coincided with the rise of a militant Shi’i state in Iran and the inauguration of centuries of sectarian warfare between Shi’i Iran and its Sunni neighbors.
From Abû Bakr, the Naqshbandi silsila passes through Salmân al-Fârisi, Qâsim b. Muhammad b. Abi Bakr and Ja`far as-Sâdiq to Bâyazid Bistâmi. In a retrospective periodization of the silsila, numerous sources maintain that until the time of Bâyazid it was known as tariqat-i bakriya, the "path of Abû Bakr",
/7 Abdûlhakim el-Huseyni, Sohbetler (mimeographed, Adiyaman, 1974), p. 11.
/8 Mustafa Mûstakim Niyazi, Sûluk-u Kavim ve Sirat-t Mûstakim, ms. Çelebi Abdullah ef. 173, f. 7a.
/9 See Marijan Molé, "Les Kubrawiya entre Sunnisme et Shi'ismc," Revue des études islamiques, 1961, pp. 61-142.
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or tariqat-i siddiqiya, the "path of the siddiq," and that after him it became known as the Tayfûriya, in reference to Tayfûr, a sobriquet of Bâyazid./10 There is little likelihood that this assertion should be strictly true. Although Hujwiri (d. 463/1071?) does mention in his Kashf al-Mahjûb a group known as the Tayfûriya, they were merely men owing loyalty (tawallâ) to Bâyazid and following in his footsteps, not initiatically descended from him. /11 The division of the silsila into bakri and Tayfûri periods indicates, however, which links in the chain came to assume particular significance in the view of later generations.
We have already sought to clarify the significance of Abû Bakr, and suggested that his presence at the beginning of the silsila is consonant with the general characteristics of the Naqshbandi order. Bâyazid Bistâmi, by contrast, appears to be the very archetype of the intoxicated Sûfi whose paradoxical behavior and fondness for theopathic utterance seem totally to contradict the sobriety of the Naqshbandiya. But together with intoxication, there are discernible in the anecdotes related concerning Bâyazid elements that foreshadow prominent features of Naqshbandi practice and teaching. He claimed, for example, that the beginning of his path was the end of the path of others; he engaged, at least sporadically, in silent dhikr; he disdained the paranormal states and actions —karâmât — that befall the Sufi, in almost the same terms that Bahâ ad-Din Naqshband was to use ten generations later; and he warned against the perils of ceaseless travelling from the presence of one shaykh to another, entirely in the sense of the Naqshbandi precept of safar dar vatan, "travel within the homeland," i.e., man's own inner world./12 It would, however, be misguided to seek a complete correspondence between the practice and personality of Bâyazid and later Naqshbandi tradition. All the links in the silsila before Bahâ ad-Din Naqshband constitute in one sense the prehistory of the order. Various of its distinctive features are already present, above all the bakri line and the practice of silent dhikr, but they are as yet intermingled with other and contrasting elements. It is only with the final crystallization of the order that the latter are excluded or relegated to the status of anomaly.
The silsila continues as the Tayfûriya through Abû'l-Hasan Kharaqâni, Abû'l-Qâsim Gurgâni and Abû`Ali Fârmadi to Khwâja Yûsuf Hamadâni (d. 536/ 1141); with the last-named, it acquires the designation of tariqat-i khwâjagân, "the path of the masters." Most of the figures in the silsila before Hamadâni form part of the common patrimony of Sufism, but he and his descendants
/10 See, for example, Seyyid Hasib Uskûdarî, Menakib-i Seyh Mehmed Emin Tukadî, ms. Ali Emiri (seriye) 1103, f. 28b.
/11 Abû’l-Qasim Hujwiri, Kashf al-Mahjûb (Samarqand, 1330/1912), pp. 226-232.
/12 Farad ad-Din `Attar, Tadhkirat al-Auliyâ, ed. Mirza Muhammad Khan Qazvini (Teleran, 1346 Sh./1967), I, pp. 29-164.
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belong only to the silsilas of the Naqshbandiya and the closely related Yasavi order. As if to underline his inauguration of a distinct line of spiritual tradition, Hamadâni migrated from Iraq to Khorasan and Transoxiana, the region where seven generations later the Naqshbandiya underwent its genesis as a fully crystallised order.
Born in 440/1048 at Bûzanjird near Hamadan, Yûsuf Hamadani began his career as a scholar of fiqh, studying in Baghdad under the celebrated Shâfi`i master, Abû Ishâq Shirazi, despite his own adherence to the Hanafi madhhab. While in Baghdad, he made the acquaintance of Shaykh `Abd al- Qâdir Gilâni, eponym of the Qâdiri order, whom he is said to have encouraged in his evolution from preacher and faqih into Sufi./13 Seeking to elevate the Naqshbandi over the Qadiri order, a contemporary Turkish shaykh, Abdûlhakim Efendi of Adiyaman, has claimed that Hamadâni was the murshid of Abd al- Qadir./14 This is unlikely, and not asserted in any classical Naqshbandi text. But the association between Hamadâni and `Abd al-Qâdir is generally seen by Naqsbandis as a precedent for the close relationship that frequently developed between the two great universal orders, Naqshbandi and Qadiri, after the former emerged from Central Asia to strike root throughout the Islamic world./15
Hamadâni himself turned to Sufism at the age of thirty. After his training at the hands of Fârmadi, he established a khânaqâh at Marw that became known as the "Ka`ba of Khorasan."/16 Among those that frequented it were not only Hamadâni's successors in the Naqshbandi and Yasavi silsilas, but also the poet Sanâ’i and his nephew Shaykh Said, father of the celebrated Kubravi saint, Radi ad-Din`Ali Lâlâ. Hamadâni was buried in Marw, where his tomb is still a place of visitation./17
In obvious imitation of the fourfold pattern of the Rightly Guided Caliphs, Hamadâni named four successors. Two of these are of importance, Ahmad Yasavi (d. 562/1167), eponym of the Yasavi order, and Kwâja `Abd al-Khâliq Ghijduvâni, the next link in the Naqshbandisilsila.	commonly said
13 Abd al-Khâ1iq Ghijduvâni, « Risâla-yi Sâhibiya, » ed. Said Nafisi, Fârhangi Irân-Zamin, I:1, 1332 Sh./1953, pp. 70-101.
14 Sohbetler, p. 34.
15 In some cases, Naqshbandi and Qâdiri lines intertwined, giving risc to distinct suborders. Such was the case with Shaykh Muhammad Sâdiq Arzinjâni (d. 1210/1795). see Kasim Kufrah, Nakqibendiligin Kurulus ve Yayilist, doctoral thesis, Türkiyat Enstit., Istanbul, 1949, pp. 196-198) and his followers in Turkey, and Shaykh Ahmad Sambâsi (13th/ 19th century) in Malaya and Indonesia (see his Fath al-Arifin, Singapore.)
16 Daulatshâh Samarqandi, Tadhkirat ash-Shucarâ, ed. E.G. Browne (London & Leiden, 1900), p. 95.
17 V. A. Zhukovskii, Razvaliny Starogo Merva (St. Petersburg, 1894), p.172.
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that the Yasavi line distinguished itself from the Naqshbandi by adressing itself to the Turkic populations of Central Asia that were either superficially islamized or not at all, whereas the Naqshbandi silsila throve mostly in urban areas that were still predominantly Iranian in speech and culture./18 To an extent, the distinction holds good, and we find the early shaykhs of the Yasavi order being described as "the Turkish shaykhs."/19 But a considerable portion of Yasavi literature was written in Persian, down until the tenth/seventeenth century; from this we can conclude a Yasavi presence among Persian-speaking city dwellers./20
Conversely, the Naqshbandiya extended its influence amongst all the major Turkic peoples, fairly rapidly among the Uzbeks and Tatars and somewhat later among the Turkmens, Kazakhs and Kirghiz. The essential point of divergence between the two orders lies not in ethnic affiliation but in method of dhikr. Yasavi and his descendants practised a mode of vocal dhikr known as dhikr of the saw (dhikr-i arra) on account of the rasping sound it produced, while Ghijduvâni adopted the practice of silent dhikr, transmitting it ultimately to Baba ad-Din Naqshband. It is true that some have seen in the dhikr of the saw some concession to shamanistic reminiscences that were still alive among the Turks, but given the occurrence of the same technique in areas as far removed from the influence of Central Asian nomadism as India and Morocco, this hypothesis can hardly be sustained./21 Such was the identification of the two orders with audible and silent dhikr respectively that the former came to be designated in Central Asia as Jahriya, the "open way," and the latter as Khafiya. the "silent or hidden way". Despite this clear distinction and the hostility to which it sometimes led, the Yasaviya and Naqshbandiya always retained consciousness of their common ancestor, Yûsuf Hamadâni, and cases of dual Yasavi-Naqshbandi affiliation are by no means unknown.
It was because of his espousal of the silent dhikr that `Abd al-Khâliq Ghijduvâni was designated by Naqshbandi tradition as the sarsilsila-yi khwâjagân, "first in the chain of masters", even though Hamadâni had been designated before him as khwâja. While studying in Bukhara, Ghijduvâni had
18 This thesis was first propounded by Fuad Köprûlû in his classic Türk Edebiyatinda ilk Mutasavviflar (new ed., Ankara, 1966).
19 Abd ar-Rahman Jâmi, Nafahât al-Uns, cd. Mahdi Tauhidipur (Tehran, 1336 Sh./1957), 377.
20 See, for example, the works of âkhûnd Mulla Muhammad Sharif Yasavi in ms. Resid Efendi 372, ff. la -316b.
21 For the case of India, see Muhammad Ghauth Shattâri (d.970/1562), al-Jawahir al-Khams, ms. in author's collection, f. 123b, and for that of Morocco, Emile Dermenghem, Le culte des saints dans l'islam maghrébin (Paris, 1954), p. 325.
22 See, for example, Akhûnd Mullâ Muhammad Sharif Yasavi's polemic against those Naqshbandis who deprecated vocal dhikr : Hujjat adh-Dhâkirin, ms. Resid Efendi 372, ff. la - 203b.
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encountered the Qur'ânic verse (7:55), "call upon your Lord in supplication and hiddenness", and sought its interpretation in vain from his teacher. It was not until some time had passed before Khidr, the ubiquitous and immortal personification of the initiatic principle, appeared to instruct him in the method of silent dhikr. He caused him to repeat the divine name three times while submerged in water, a circumstance of both practical and symbolic significance./23
Ghijduvâni bequeathed to the Naqshbandi silsila not only an emphasis on silent dhikr, but also an eightfold set of principles known as the "sacred words" (kalimât-i qudsiya) that with three later principles added by Bahâ ad-Din Naqshband attained permanent currency among all branches of the Naqshbandi order./24 The kalimât-i qudsiya should not be taken as attempting a delineation of doctrine peculiar to the order, but rather as a general statement of its character and spiritual method. A close parallel is to be found in the "ten principles" (usûl-i `ashara) enunciated by a contemporary of Ghijduvâni, Najm ad-Din Kubrâ, the eponym of the Kubraviya, an order centered on Khwarazm that later gained a foothold in the region of Bukhara. It is probable, in fact, that the formulation of such "rules" was peculiar to the Sûfi orders of Central Asia.
Ghijduvâni died in 617/1220, and his tomb in his native town of Ghijduvân became a major center of pilgrimage in the Bukhara area, not fully eclipsed even by the shrine of Bahâ ad-Din Naqshband himself. It was, for example, after a period of prayer and contemplation spent at his tomb that the Uzbek ruler `Ubaydullah Khan went forth in 915/1509 to defeat the Safavid army at the battle of Ghijduvân./26 Today also the tomb is said to survive as a place of pilgrimage despite sporadic harassment by the Soviet authorities.
Five links in the silsila separate ‘Abd al-Khaliq Ghijduvâni from its final crystallization under the auspices of Bahâ ad-Din Naqshband: Khwâja `Arif Rivgari, Khwâja Mahmûd Anjir Faghnavi, Khwâja `Ali Râmitani, Khwâja Baba Muhammad Sammasi, and Sayyid Amir Kulal. Bahâ ad-Din Naqshband was associated with the last two of this series. Sammâsi was in the habit of remarking, when passing by the village of Qasr-i `ârifân near Bukhara, that he could smell the scent of spirituality rising from its soil. When Bahâ ad-Din was
23 Fakhr ad-Din ‘Ali Safi, Rashahât ‘Ayn al-Hayat (Tachkent, 1329/1911), pp. 18-20.
24 The kalimât-i qudsiya are listed and explained in almost every handbook of the Naqshbandi tariqa. See, for example, Khwâja Muhammad Parsa, Tuhfat as-Sâlikin (Delhi, 1390/1970), pp. 119-121.
22 Text contained in Marijan Molé, "Traités mineurs de Nagm al-Din Kubra," Annales Islamologiques (Cairo), IV (1963), pp. 15-22.
26 Fadlullâh Rûzbihân Isfahani, Mihmânnâma-yi Bukhâra, facsimile of Persian text and Russian translation prepared by R. P. Dzhalilova, (Moscow, 1976), text: p. 69, translation:   p. 70.
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born there in 718/1318, he declared that he understood the meaning of the scent, and adopted the infant as his spiritual progeny./27
Sammâsi later assigned to Amir Kulal, his own khalîfa, the task of Bahâ ad-Din's spiritual training. Kulal is said to have been the murshid of the great Timûr; if this be true, it must be counted an early instance of the close relationship that came to exist between the Naqshbandi order and the Timûrid dynasty. All that is certain is that Amir Kulal was influential in obtaining the expulsion from Transoxiana of Shah Ni`matullah Wali (d.734/1334), eponym of the Nimatullahiya, a Shri order. He told Timûr that the rival Sûfi was inciting the tribes in the region of Shahr-i Sabz to revolt against his rule./28
The precise nature of the relationship between Amir Kulâl and Baha ad-Din is also uncertain. Naqshbandi sources naturally present Baha ad-Din as the principal, indeed unrivalled, successor of Amir Kulâl, but a description of the life of Amir Kulâl written by his great-grandson, Maulâna Shihâb ad-Din, makes only passing references to Bahâ ad-Din and does not even list him among the main successors./29 One anecdote even makes out that Bahâ ad-Din was once reproached by Amir Kulâl for imagining that he was the most cherished of his disciples./30 Another anecdote of great interest suggests that Bahâ ad-Din came to Amir Kulâl not in obedience to Baba Sammâsi's instructions, but as the result of the following miraculous episode. It is said Bahâ ad-Din was an executioner in the service of a certain "Pâdishah Qazân." One day he was called upon to execute a follower of Amir Kulâl, but as the condemned man thrice invoked the name of his preceptor, thrice did the sword of Bahâ ad-Din rebound from his neck. In amazement and penitence, Bahâ ad-Din hastened to Amir Kulâl and became his disciple. It has been suggested that "Pâdishâh Qazân" is identical with Khalil Atâ, a Yasavi shaykh whose company Bahâ ad-Din kept for six years and who exorcized some form of rule over Bukhara.32 The identification appears to be correct, but it is not possible to reconcile the two accounts of the origins of Bahâ ad-Din's affiliations to Kulâl. The line of Amir Kulâl persisted for several generations, from father to son, even after the establishment of the Naqshbandiya;
27 Salâh ad-Din Muhammad Bukhâri, Anis at-Tâlibin, ms. Bodleian, Persian e 37, ff. 48a-48b.
28 Jean Aubin, Matériaux pour la biographie de Shah Ni`matullah Wall Kermani (Tehran & Paris, 1956), pp. 13-14.
29 Maulânâ Shihâb ad-Din, Manâqib-i Amir Kulâl, ms. Zeytinoglu (Tavsanli), 169, f.125b. 3° Ibid., f. 39b.
31 Ibid., ff. 34b-35a.
32 Zeki Velidi Togan, "Gazan-Han Halil ve Hoca Bahaeddin Naksbend," Necati Lugal Armagani (Ankara, 1968), pp. 775-784.
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it may, then, be possible that Maulanâ Shihab ad-Din's account is inspired by considerations of family rivalry with the spiritual progeny of Baha ad-Din./33
The list of Bahâ ad-Din's preceptors is not exhausted with Babâ Muhammad Sammâsi, Amir Kulâl and Khalil Atâ. More significant than the training these three imparted to him was his encounter with the spirit —rûhâniyat — of `Abd al-Khâliq Ghijduvâni, who instructed him in the method of silent dhikr, much as he had been miraculously instructed by Khidr. After the receipt of this instruction, Baha ad-Din separated himself from the circle of Amir Kulâl whenever they engaged in vocal dhikr. The separation may be regarded as the final s crystallization of the Naqshbandi order, with silent dhikr established as its norm.
Qâdiri sources also report a decisive intervention in the spiritual progress of Bahâ ad-Din by `Abd al-Qâdir Gilani. The sense of these accounts is clear: a subordination of the Naqshbandi to the Qadiri order, in vindication of Shaykh `Abd al-Qadir's alleged boast, « this my foot shall rest on the neck of every saint.»/35
Bahâ ad-Din died in 791/1389, and was buried in his birthplace, Qasr-i`Ârifân, that soon became known to the Bukharans simply as Bahâ ad-Din (or Bâvaddin, in local pronunciation). A large complex of mosque, khânaqah and madrasa grew up around the tomb, generously endowed with land and other property by successive rulers of Bukhara. It has been estimated that the rent derived from these properties amounted to several thousand roubles at the end of the nineteenth century./36 As important as the wealth that accrued to the shrine was its major share in the attraction exerted by Bukhara throughout Inner Asia as a pole of Islamic learning and sanctity. The pilgrims that came to Bukhara not only from every region of Turkistan but also from the Muslim provinces of China would always commence their visitations at the shrine of Bahâ ad-Din!/37 For the Bukharans themselves, Bahâ ad-Din became a kind of patron saint for the city; adorned with the epithet of balâ-gardân ("averter of disaster"), he was thought even to be capable of repelling, through the power of his undiminished sanctity, the Russian attack on Bukhara in 1864./38 After the Bolshevik revolution, the lands attached to the shrine were confiscated, all organized devotional activity came to a halt, and the complex began to decay, like so many other Muslim monuments in the Soviet Union. In 1957, however, it was announced that restoration of the shrine was underway, and three years later it was officially claimed that it had been restored to the Muslim community./39 The claim appears to have been premature, for when Ahmad Kuftâro, mufti of the Syrian Republic and himself a Naqshbandi shaykh 117, visited Bukhara in the late 1960's, he found the shrine complex deserted. As a result of his representations, the shrine was finally turned over to the Muslim religious authorities, and in 1970, in implicit acknowledgement of the change, a new tombstone bearing a brief biography of Bahâ ad-Din Naqshband in Arabic was put in place over the tomb./40
After Bahâ ad-Din, the silsila has retained the designation of Naqshbandi, this being derived from his epithet of Naqshband, "he who fixes in the heart the impress of the divine name."/41 The name Naqshbandi has often been supplemented by other designations for various branches of the silsila, and compound names such as Naqshbandi-Mujaddidi and Nacshbandi-Khâlidi have come into being. These later names have never displaced, however, the name Naqshbandi as the core designation of the silsila, and it is plain that Bahâ ad-Din is the central figure in its history, he whose imprint has bestowed on it its essential character. Why this should be so is not entirely clear. The personality of Bahâ ad-Din is obscured, not so much by the posthumous growth of hagiographic legend as is the case with so many Sufis, as by the laconic and elliptic nature of the sources for his life. The later history of the silsila contains, moreover, a number of powerful figures — Khwâja Ahrâr, Makhdûm-i A`zam, Shaykh Ahmad Sirhindi, Maulânâ Khâlid — whose lives are recorded in detail and who have a far more substantial presence in the minds of the Naqshbandis than does Bahâ ad-Din, the supreme master of the order. Clearly the question of the silent dhikr is central to the identity of the order, but whether it alone was decisive for the crystallization of the silsila as Naqshbandi is a matter that calls for further reflection.118
33 Concerning the descendants of Amir Kulâl, see Manaqib-i Amir Kulâl, ff. 64b ff.
34 Rashahât `Ayn al-Hayhât, p. 55.
35 Shaykh `Abd al-Qâdir al-Qâdiri al-Irbili, Tafrij al-Khâtir (Alexandria, 1300/1883), pp. 24-25; Muhammad Sddiq Shíhâbi Sa`di Qâdiri, Manaqib-i Ghauthiya (Qandahar, 1333 Sh./1954), pp. 105-108.
36 K. Bendrikov, Ocherki po istorii narodnogo obrazovaniya y Turkestane (Moscow, 1960), 29.
37 Armintus Vambérj, Travels in Central Asia (New York, 1865), pp. 232-233. 
38 This belief in the efficacy of appeals to Bahâ ad-Din was criticized by the celebrated Bukharan reformer, `Abd ar-Ra'ûf Fitrat, in his Munâzira (Istanbul, 1328/1910), p. 24.
39 Allahberdi Murad, "al-Islam fi Turkistan", Majallat ash-Shu'ûn as-Sûfiyitiya, 1960:4, p. 45; Constantin de Gruenwald, God and the Soviets (London, 1961), p. 195.
40 Conversation with Shaykh Ahmad Kuftâro, Damascus, April 1977.
41 This meaning of the name is expounded in a large variety of Naqshbandi texts. See, for example, Sait Seyfettin, Îhsan Yolu (Cizre, 1973), p. 24.
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Certainly Bahâ ad-Din's disciples were extremely numerous, and this may be taken as one indication of his stature and the impact of his spiritual personality. Chief among them were Khwâja `Ala ad-Din `Attar, to whom he married one of his daughters; Khwâja Muhammad Parsa, a prolific author in Arabic and Persian, and one of the few `ulamâ in Bukhara to be associated with the Naqshbandi order in its earliest period;/42 and Maulana Ya`qûb Charkhi, author of a Persian commentary on the Qur'an./43 Both `Attar and Parsa had their disciples and successors, but the main line of Naqshbandi descent passes through Charkhi to that figure of awesome political as well as spiritual attainment, Khwâja Nasir ad-Din `Ubaydullâh Ahrar, known to hagiographic tradition as Hadrat-i Îshan.
Ahrar was born in the village of Baghistân near Tashkent in 806/1404, and began his studies in Samarqand at the age of twenty. He manifested little interest in formal learning, however, and after four years left for Herat to associate with the Sufis of the city. After a period of hesitation, he sought out Ya`qûb Charkhi in Chaghaniân, a remote region of Badakhshan, and became his murid. Returning to Tashkent in 835/1431, he soon established himself as the chief Sûfi shaykh of the city. His dominance was destined to extend far beyond Tashkent. The foundations of his political power were laid in 855/1451 when he recruited Uzbek auxiliaries under the command of Abû’l Khayr Khan for the Timûrid prince, Abû Said, engaged in a struggle with `Abdullah Mirza for the rule of Samarqand. Thanks to the Uzbek troops, Abû Said won the day, and in gratitude to Khwâja Ahrar became his murîd. Given the nature of the relationship between murshid and murid, it was not long before Ahrar became the virtual ruler of the eastern Timiûrid realm. His power showed itself most clearly in the following incidents: the organization of the defence of Samarqand against an army from Khorasan in 858/1454; his success in 865/1460 in persuading Abû Said to abolish the tamgha in Bukhara and Samarqand, and to promise the abolition of it and all other non-shar`i imposts throughtout the realm; his mediation between Abû Said and a rebellious prince, Muhammad Jûki, at Shahrukhiya, first in 865/1461 and then again in 867/1463; and his arbitration of three conflicting claims for the possession of Tashkent in 890/1485.  /44
42 His two most important works on the Naqshbandi order are Tuhfat as-Sâlikin (Delhi, 1390/ 1970), a compendium of beliefs and practices, and Risâla-yi Qudsiya, ed. Malik Muhammad Igbal (Rawalpindi, 1395/1975), a collection of the dicta of Bahâ ad-Din Naqshband together with commentary.
43 Tafsir-i Maulânâ Charkhi (Bombay, 1386/1966).
44 Concerning these events, see `Abd ar-Razzâq Samarqandi, Matla` as-Sa`dayn, ed. Muhammad Shafi (Lahore, 1360/1941-1368/1949), pp. 1062-1064, 1230-1233, 1274, 1321, and Khwândamir, Habib as-Siyar, ed. Jalâl Humâ'i (Tehran, 1333 Sh./1954), IV, pp. 52-53, 82, 87-88.
In fulfilling this political role, Ahrâr was aided by the gradual accumulation of a vast amount of wealth, and it is possible that he was the largest landowner of his time in Transoxiana. Documents survive indicating that he owned thirty orchards, sixty-four villages with their surrounding lands and irrigation canals, and scores of commercial establishments and artisan workshops in different cities. /45
Ahrâr set forth himself the reasons for this high degree of political and worldly activity, unprecedented in the history of the Naqshbandi silsila, in a number of utterances that all bespeak a clear sense of mission. In a highly typical anecdote contained in the biography of Ahrâr composed by one of his disciples, Maulana Shaykh, the saint relates how he once dreamed in his childhood of the Prophet, standing at the foot of a hill near Tashkent. The Prophet ordered the infant Ahrâr to carry him to the top, and remarked to him when he had done so, "you are indeed strong.You must also bear the burden of propagating and fortifying my shari’a."  In obedience to this prophetic command, Ahrâr took it upon himself in later life — again in his own words — "to convince kings not to transgress against God's law or to torment the people" /47 and "by trafficking with kings and conquering their souls to protect the Muslims from the evil of oppressors."/48 That an emphasis upon the implementation of the shari a informed Ahrâr's relations with Abû Sa`id and his son, Sultan Ahmad, is confirmed by his correspondence with the two rulers, part of which survives in autograph. We find him advising Abû Said: "Since of a certainty all material and spiritual pleasure and all excellence, both in this world and the hereafter, are to be attained only through obedience to the Prophet, upon whom be peace and blessings, you will without doubt do in all things that which his share a ordains."/49
Ahrâr's concern for establishing the supremacy of the shari’a in Muslim society bestowed a new and important characteristic on the Naqshbandiya, one as important for its subsequent historical role as the definitive choice of silent dhikr by Bahâ ad-Din Naqshband. In conformity with the example of Ahrâr, the Naqshbandi order exhibited its concern for the integrity of the shar’ia in a wide variety of contexts: in India against the syncretism of Akbar, in Daghistan and Western Turkistan against Russian imperialism, in Eastern Turkistan against Chinese domination and mores, in parts of the Indonesian archipelago against
45 See O.D. Chekhovich, Samarkandskie Dokumenty XV-XVI vv. o Vladeniyakh Khodzhi Ahrara v Srednei Azii i Afganistane (Moscow, 1974).
46 Maulânâ Shaykh, Manâqib-i Khwâja Ahrâr, ms. Beyazit 3624, ff. 30a-30b.
47 Ibid., f. 74b.
43 Rashahât `Ayn al-Hayât, p. 315.
49 Khwâja Ahrâr, Ruqa`ât, ms. Esad Efendi 1688, f. 123b.
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Dutch colonialism, and in Turkey against the regime of Kemal Atatürk. Nor was it a question only of political activism; on the purely legal level, we find Naqshbandis working for the replacement of `adat — customary law — by the ordinances of the shari’a in several places, notably Dâghistan and Sumatra. Motivated by loyalty to the sharra, Naqshbandis also acted in various places as a barrier against the diffusion of antinomian Sufism and marginal cults, such as Bektâshism in Bosnia and the Ah-i Haqq in Kurdistan. Finally, it is the devotion of the Naqshbandiya to the cause of the shari’a that has permitted it, perhaps more than any other order, to recruit the `ulamâ to its ranks. Among the many great scholars of different periods and places that have been Naqshbandi we may mention the following: Sayyid Sharif Jurjani (d. 816/1413), `Abd al-Hakim Sialkoti (d. 1067/1657), `Abd al-Ghani an-Nablusi (d. 1143/1731), Ibn `Abidin (d. 1252/1836) and Shihâb ad-Din al-Alûsi (d. 1270/1854).
Ahrâr died in 895/1490, and a decade later Timûrid rule in Transoxiana came to an end. Muhammad Shaybani, the Uzbek conqueror of Transoxiana, showed himself hostile to the sons of Ahrâr, confiscating much of the property they had inherited from their father and putting to death Khwaja Yahya, his second and favorite son./50 However, Muhammad Shaybâni's nephew, `Ubaydullah Khan, restored the major part of the family lands and took pride in the coincidence of his name with that of the great Ahrâr /51 The descendants of Khwâja Yahyâ by his second son, Khwâja `Abd al-Bâqi, had vested in them the post of shaykh al Islam of Samarqand, combining with it the trusteeship of the rich endowments that were settled on the tomb of Khwâja Ahrâr./52 The tomb and the mosque complex that grew up next to it became yet another site of Naqshbandi pilgrimage, constantly expanded and enriched down to the early twentieth century. Today, too, it is said to be a vital center of Islamic life in Soviet Samarqand.
It was not only in Samarqand that the Shaybanids as well as their successors, the Astarkhânids and Manghitis, showed deference and respect to the shaykhs of the Naqshbandi order. In Bukhara itself, the center of the three successive Uzbek dynasties, the Naqshbandi shaykhs of Jûybâr enjoyed particular wealth and renown. Their forebear was Khwaja Muhammad Islam Jûybâri,
50 Abd al-Hayy al-Husayni, Nasabnâma-yi Khwâja Ahrâr, ms. Esad Efendi 1688, ff. 85a-85b.
51 Ulrich Haarmann, "Staat und Religion in Transoxanien im frühen 16. Jahrhundert", Zeitschrift der deutschen morgenlândischen Gesellschaft, CXXIV (1974), p. 368.
52 Nasabnâma-yi Khwâja Ahrâr, ff. 86a-86b.
53 See L Ye. Pletnev and Yu. Z. Shvab, "Arkhitckturnyi ansambl' u mazara Khodzha Akhrara v Samaricande", Srednyaya Aziya v Drevnosti i Srednevekovye (Moscow, 1977), pp. 160-164.
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separated from Ahrar by two links in the silsila : Maulânâ Muhammad Qâdi and Maulânâ Khwâjaki Kâsâni./54
Another line of descent from Ahrâr, through Maulanâ Muhammad Qâdi and Makhdûm-i A`zam, took the Naqshbandiya to Eastern Turkistan. Ishaq Wali, the son of the latter, made the Naqshbandiya the dominant order in Kashgharia through an alliance with the Chaghatayid ruler Muhammad Khan, and propagated Islam — and with it the Naqshbandi path — among the Oirot Mongols and the Kazakhs. The line established by Ishaq Wali was challenged in the seventeenth century by Khwaja Âfâq, another descendant of Makhdûm-i A`zam; one of his spiritual heirs, Ma Laichi, took the Naqshbandiya to Hezhou, in China proper./55
Ahrâr not only established the Naqshbandiya as the dominant Sûfí order in all regions of Inner Asia, but also sent forth his disciples westwards to Iran, the Hijaz and Anatolia, thus laying the foundations for the dissemination of the Naqshbandi order in most regions of the Islamic world. This dissemination made of the Naqshbandiya a common element in the shared culture of the three major Sunni regions — the Ottoman State, Central Asia and India — and the travels and interwoven affiliations of its members helped to bind together, in a spiritual and cultural whole, the lands of Islam that had become dispersed under separate rules. This important aspect of the historical role of the Naqshbandiya — shared, to a degree, by other widely diffused orders, such as the Qadiriya and the Shadhiliya — still continues today, although in attenuated form. Shaykhs of the order know each other from Sarajevo to South-East Asia, and have occasion to confer when they meet during the hajj.
Among the murids of Ahrar that carried the order outside the confines of Transoxiana were Khwâja Muhammad Amin Bulghâri, Sirâj ad-Din `Abd al-Wahhâb, both of whom settled in Tabriz, and Maulânâ Sayyid `Ali Kurdi, who took up residence in Qazvin./56 Mention should also be made of Sun`ullâh Kûzakunâni, the murid of a different Naqshbandi master, Maulânâ Maktabdâr of Herat; he too contributed to the establishment of a Naqshbandi presence in Tabriz./57 But with the rise of the Safavids and the persecution of all Sunni orders,
54 See P.P. Ivanov, Khozyaistvo Dzhuybarskikh Sheikhov (Moscow and Leningrad, 1954), pp. 17-22.
55 On these and later representatives of the Naqshbandiya in China and its borderlands — above all the great Ma Mingxin — see Joseph Fletcher, "Chine," in Les Ordres Mystiques dans l'Islam, eds. A. Popovic and G. Veinstein (Paris, 1986), pp. 13-26.
56 Hafiz Husayn Karbala'i Tabrizi, Raudât al-Jinan va Jannât al Janân, ed. Ja`far Sultân aI-Qurrâ'i (Tehran, 1344 Sh./1965), I, pp. 416-418; Khwândamir, Habib as-Siyar, IV, pp. 608-609; Muhammad b. Husayn Qazvini, Sisilanâma-yi Khwâjagân-i Naqshband, ms. Laleli 1381, f. 12b.
57 Tabrizi, Raudât al-Jinan va Jannât al- Janân, I, pp. 98-104.
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Naqshbandi activity in Western Iran was brought to an almost complete end, and several Naqshbandi shaykhs were put to death, including Mauland Sayyid Ali Kurdi and the spiritual descendants of Kûzakunâni./58
As for the Arab lands, another murid of Ahrâr, Mauland Ismail Shirvâni, took up residence in Mecca, but he appears to have died without spiritual issue./59
Far more significant than the activities of the foregoing was the first implantation of the Naqshbandiya among the Ottoman Turks by another murid of Ahrâr, Molla `Abdullah Ilâhi of Simav. Born near Kütahya, he studied the religious sciences in the newly conquered city of Istanbul at the Zeyrek madrasa, a converted church. Embarking on the Sûfi path, he set out for Transoxiana, and travelling by way of Kirman and Herat came to the presence of Khwaja Ahrar in Samargand. After initiating him into the Naqshbandi order, Ahrar dispatched him to the tomb of Baha ad-Din for nine successive periods of forty days spent in seclusion, fasting and communion with the rûhâniyat of the great master. Ilahi then returned to his Anatolian homeland as khalifa of Ahrar, accompanied by Shaykh Ahmad Bukhari, another murid of Ahrar, who was also a descendant of Amir Kulal. Ilahi's fame gradually spread from Simav to Istanbul, and he was prevailed upon to move to the Ottoman capital, making of the same madrasa where he had studied the first Naqshbandi tekke in Istanbul. Numerous scholars of the day, such as Lutfullâh Uskûbi and Shaykh Muslin ad-Din Tawil, became his murids, and Sultan Mehmed Fatih himself attended the lectures and sermons that he delivered in the mosque of Ayasofya./60 Vexed by the press of devotees around him, Ilâhi retired to Vardar Yenicesi in Rumelia, devoting himself there to the composition of books on Sufism in preference to the training of murids. He died in 896/1490, the same year as his preceptor, and his tomb remained a place of visitation until the town of Yenice fell under Greek rule in the present century and most of its Islamic monuments were destroyed./61
The works of Molla Ilâhi have not yet been studied in any detail. The chief among them is Maslak at-Tâlibin, the fame of which is attested by the numerous manuscripts of it to be found in Turkish libraries. It appears to discuss mostly cosmological and astrological themes, subjects generally of little interest to members of the Naqshbandi order and totally absent from the sparse writings of Ahrâr.
58 Silsilanâma-yi Khwâjagân-i Naqshband, ff. 12b-13a.
59 Ibid., f. 13b.
60 One of these sermons was published in Istanbul in 1261/1845 under the title Risale-i Molla llahi.
61 Lâmi’i Çelebi, Nefehât el-Uns Tercemesi (Istanbul, 1270/1854), pp. 460-465.
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Whatever be the source of Ilâhi's learned concerns, his murids implanted a solid Naqshbandi tradition among the Turks that, reinforced by several transmissions of Naqshbandi influence from India, has continued to flourish in Turkey down to the present day. When leaving Istanbul, Ilahi assigned responsibility for the welfare of his murids to his companion from Bukhara, Shaykh Ahmad Bukhâri. This chief khalifa of Ilâhi gained the favor of Sultan Bâyezid II, with whose aid he built a series of tekkes, the first near Fatih mosque, the second, when the first proved inadequate for the numerous murids, near Ayvansaray, and the third near Edirnekapi. He died in 922/1516, and was buried next to his first tekke. The tomb still survives, and the adjacent mosque, recently restored, is again a focus of Naqshbandi devotion. From Shaykh Ahmad Bukhari the Naqshbandi line established by Ilahi passes through Hakim Çelebi, Mahmûd Çelebi, `Abd al-Latif Efendi and Sha`ban Çelebi./63 The later succession is unknown, although it is certain that each of the three tekkes established by Shaykh Ahmad Bukhari remained in continual use until the nineteenth century. Outside Istanbul, another khalifa of Ilâhí, the celebrated poet Mahmud Lam i Çelebi (d. 938/1532) took the Naqshbandi order to Bursa, and there, too, it struck firm root./65
The major reinforcements of the Naqshbandi tradition in Turkey — the Mujaddidi and Khâlidi branches of the order, to be discussed below — derived from India, but Molla Ilâhi and Shaykh Ahmad Bukhâri were by no means the last Naqshbandis to transmit the influence of the order from Central Asia to Turkey. There was a continuous traffic of Naqshbandis between the two halves of the Turkic world, and the names of several tekkes in Istanbul — Özbekler, Buhara, Kasgar, etc. — bear witness to the regularity of arrivals from Central Asia. The founders and residents of these tekkes did not exercize a role comparable to that of the Mujaddidi and Khâlidi shaykhs by establishing distinct lines of transmission. There were among them, however, certain figures of prominence such as Khazini, a dervish of triple Naqshbandi, Yasavi and Kubravi affiliation, who came to Istanbul from Bukhara in the reign of Sultân Murad III and wrote a masterly analysis of the different methods of dhikr,/66 and `Abdullah Nidâ’i (eleventh/seventeenth century), who arrived in Istanbul from Kashghar after a long series of travels in Central Asia and Iran and established his own tekke near Eyûp./67 The Naqshbandi order has provided, then, a link between the Eastern
62 Concerning Shaykh Ahmad Bukhâri, see Taskôprûzade, Sakayik-z Nu'maniye (Turkish translation of Mecdi Efendi, Istanbul, 1289/1872), pp. 362-365.
63 Silsilanâma-yi Khwâjagân-i Naqshband, ff. 13b-14a.
64 Hafiz Hilseyin Ayvansaraî, Hadikat el-Cevami (Istanbul, 1231/1864), I. pp. 42-47, 297.
65 Asik	Celebi, Mesa’ir ûs-Su’ara, ed. G. M. Meredith-Owens (London, 1971), pp. 108b-111a.
66 Manba` al-Abadr fi Riydd al-Abrâr, ms. Sehid Ali Pasa 1425.
67 See Nidâ’i’s main work, Shirin Shamd'il, ms. Asir Efendi 411.
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and the Western Turks, just as it has functioned in general as an element of unity among the different regions of the Sunni Islamic world.
The third great area of Naqshbandi diffusion, after Central Asia and Turkey, lay to the south of its birthplace, first in Herat and other areas of what is now Afghanistan, and then, more importantly, in India. Sa`d ad-Din Kâshghari (d. 866/1462), khalifa of 'Alâ ad-Din `Attâr, established for the Naqshbandiya in Herat a dominant position equal to that it enjoyed in Samargand under the auspices of Ahrâr. Among the initiates of Sa`d ad-Din Kâshghari was the great scholar, poet and mystic, `Abd ar-Rahmân Jâmi, whose vast corpus of writing contains several treatises on the Nagshbandiya,/69 and his colleague, `Ali Shir Nawâ’i, the virtual founder of Chaghatay Turkish literature./70 It can even be said that the whole brilliant cultural life of Herat in this period stood under Naqshbandi patronage. Naqshbandi activity in Herat was temporarily brought to an end by the rise of the Safavids, who desecrated the tombs of Kâshghari and Jâmi on their conquest of the city in 916/1510./71
Of far greater significance was the coming of the Naqshbandiya to India. The first Naqshbandis to appear in India were memcers of Ahrâr family. Not all of them sought spiritual dignity, and we find several of them holding high military and administrative office in the service of the Moghul emperors./72 From one point of view, the establishment of the Naqshbandiya in India may even be regarded as part of the general transfer of Timûrid culture and institutions from Transoxiana to the subcontinent. Bâbur, the founder of the Moghul state, mentions Ahrâr with particular respect in his memoirs, and speaks even of a complementarity between the two families, the one enjoying political kingship, and the other, spiritual monarchy./73 It is also worth noting that while on his way to India, Bâbur distracted himself from his military tasks by translating a treatise of Ahrâr, Risâla-yi Vâlidiya, from Persian prose into Chaghatay Turkish verse. /74
The Ahrâri Naqshbandi line died out in the eleventh/seventeenth century, and it was the spiritual, not the physical, descendants of Ahrâr that came to perpetuate the Naqshbandi silsila. The first of these was Khwâja Bâqi Billâh,
68 Jâmi, Nafahât al-Uns, pp. 403-406.
69 See in particular Sarrishta-yi Tariq-i Khwâjagân, ed. `Abd al-Hayy Habibi (Kabul, 1343 Sh.11964).
70 Navâ'i expresses his Naqshbandiloyalties at a number of places in his poetry. See Khamsa, ed. Porso Shamsiev (Tashkent, 1958), pp. 71-74.
71 Fikri Saljûqi, Khiâbân (Kabul, 1343 Sh./1964), p. 94.
72 al-Husayni, Nasabnâma-yi Khwâja Ahrâr, ff. 93b-94a, 97a-98b.
73 Baburname, translated into Modern Turkish by Rasíd Rahmeti Arat (Istanbul, 1970), II, p. 134.
74 Risale-i Validiye Tercûmesi, ed. Akrnal Ayyubi (Aligarh, 1963).

born in Kabul in 971/1563. After a period of wanderings in Transoxiana and Lahore in search of a master, he became a murid of Khwâjaki Amkanaki, and also communed with the spirits of both Babâ ad-Din Naqshband and Ahrâr, who inspired in him an intense devotion to the Naqshbandi order. He propagated the Naqshbandiya in Lahore before moving to Delhi where he died in 1012/1603. His tomb In the Nabi Karim district of the city is surrounded by a large cemetery, and it is still the object of veneration and pilgrimage, although the district is now largely Hindu-inhabited./75
During his residence in Delhi, Khwâja Bâqi Billâh attracted a number of important murids. We may mention first Husâm ad-Din Ahmad, originally a Badakhshâni who advanced to high position in the reign of Akbar. Given ,the prevalence of the Din-i ilâhi at the Moghul court, he found himself under great pressure to abandon or modify his Naqshbandi affiliation. /76 Two other murids, Shaykh Ilâhdâd and Shaykh Tâj ad-Din al-`Uthmâni, unsuccessfully sought recognition as chief successor to Baqi Billâh. Ilâhdâd had no following, but when Tâj ad-Din left India and settled in Mecca, he adquired a number cf followers that took the Naqshbandiya to Egypt and the Yemen. /77
More important than these murids of Baqi Billâh for the history of the Naqshbandi silsila was Shaykh Ahmad Sirhindi the Mujaddid, who not only established himself as the undisputed successor to Baqi Billâh, but also gave the whole silsila so powerful an impetus that all of his descendants designate themselves as Naqshbandi-Mujaddidi. Born in 971/1563 into a family imbued with Sûfi and learned interests (his father, `Abd al-Ahad, was a leading practitioner of the Qâdiri order) Sirhindi early manifested exceptional spiritual gifts. These attained their full flowering after his encounter with Khwâja Bâqi Billâh in 1007/1598 and his initiation into the Naqshbandi order. Sirhindi swiftly attuned a large following, including members of the Moghul court, but was imprisoned by the Emperor Jahângir, supposedly for refusing to perform the obeisance required by court protocol. He died shortly after his release in 1034/1624./78
The work of Sirhindi, its nature and value, has been a matter of great controversy, both in his own lifetime and shortly thereafter, and in scholarly writings of the present age. Recent attention has focused on two points: his
75 Khwâja Muhammad Hâshim Kishmi, Zubdat al-Maqâmât (Cawnpore, 1303/1390), pp. 5-60.
76 S.A.A. Rizvi, Muslim Revivalist Movements in Northern India (Lucknow, 1965), pp. 193-195.
77 Muhammad b. Fadlullâh al-Muhibbi, Khulâsat al-Athar fi A`yân al-Qarn al-Hadi `Ashar (Cairo, 1234/1367), I, pp. 464-470
78 For a detailed study of the life and work of Shaykh Ahmad Sirhindi, se: Maulânâ Zuwwâr Husayn, Hazrat-i .Mujaddid-i Alf-i Sâni (Karachi, 1395/1975).
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opposition to the doctrine of wahdat al-wujûd, the unicity of being, almost universally triumphant in Sufism since its authoritative formulation by Ibn`Arabi in the seventh/thirteenth century; and his political teachings, particularly with regard to the Hindu environment of Indian Islam.
Neither of these matters is of crucial importance for the place of Sirhindi in the history of the Naqshbandi silsila. It is often erroneously assumed that his rejection of wahdat al-wujûd and proposition of wahdat ash-shuhûd , the unity of witnessing, as an alternative is somehow typical of the Naqshbandiya as a whole. The early Naqshbandis of Transoxiana and Khorasan — insofar as they concerned themselves at all with such theosophizing matters -- found wahdat al-wujûd quite unobjectionable. Both Khwaja Muhammad Parsa and `Abd ar-Rahmân Jami wrote commentaries on the work of Ibn`Arabi, and Ahrâr makes several references to the doctrine of wahdat al-wujûd without any indication of hostility." Not even the spiritual descendants of the Mujaddid in India adhered rigorously to the concept of their forebear. Mirzâ Mazhar Janjânân (d. 1195/1781) openly espoused wahdat al-wujud, and his great contemporary, Shah WaliyulIah (d. 1176/1763), plausibly suggested that the difference between wahdat al-wujiûd and wahdat ash-shuhûd is terminological in essence./81 The same view is thoroughly expounded in a work by Shah Waliyullah's son, Shah Rafi ad-Din Dihlawi, entitled al-Fayd bi 'l ‘Haqq bi Damgh al-Bâtil./82
There is also little evidence that derivatives of the Mujaddidi branch of the order in Western Asia came to adopt the doctrine of wahdat ash-shuhûd, or to support the contention made by a contemporary Turkish scholar that the Maktûbât of Sirhindi, in their Ottoman Turkish translation, totally extirpated all notions of wahdat al-wujûd from Anatolia for the better part of a century./83 This is not to say that wahdat ash-shuhûd found no echo at all in the Ottoman lands. Mustafa Fevzi, a Turkish Naqshbandi of the thirteenth/nineteenth century, expounded the excellence of the doctrine in his Mir'at ash-Shuhûd fi Mas'alat Wahdat al-Wujûd (published in Istanbul in 1320/1902). But the formulation never became a distinctive feature of the Naqshbandi order — even of its Mujaddidi branch — comparable to its insistence on silent dhikr and concern for the ascendancy of the shari’a.
79 See Pârsâ, Sharh Fusûs al-Hikam, Vatican Persian ms. 114; Jâmi, Naqsh al-Fusûs, ms. Sehid All Pasa 2717; Ahrâr, Faqarât (in margin of Muhammad Bâqir, Maqâmât-i Shâh-i Naqshband [Bukhara, 1327/1909]), p. 13.
80 Jânjânân, Kalimât-i Tayyibât (Delhi, n.d.), p. 50.
81 See G.N. Jalbani, Teachings of Shâh Waliyullah of Delhi (Lahore, 1967), pp. 74-76.
82 Edited by Maulânâ Abd al-Hamid Sâhib Swâti (Gujranwala, 1396/1976).
83 Hilmi Ziya Ulken, "L'école wudjudite et son influence dans la pensée turque," Wiener Zeitschrift far die Kunde des Morgenlandes, LXII (1969), p. 208.
84 Concerning the Mujaddidi concept of the qayyûm, see Muhammad Ikrim, Rûd-i Kausar (6th. ed., Lahore, 1975), pp. 683-686.
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As for Sirhindi's call to the Muslims to regard Hindu practices with utter contempt and rejection, this, too, was modified by some later Mujaddidis, including, again, Mirza Mahar Jânjânân, and for obvious reasons it was of little interest to Naqshbandis of the Mujaddidi line in Turkey and the Arab lands. Even the title Mujaddid (more fully, mujaddid-i alf-i thâni, "renewer of the second millennium") that gave rise to the secondary designation of Sirhindi's branch of the order appears to have meant little precise to his progeny, and the same applies a fortiori to the epithet of qayyûm /84 borne by him and three of his successors.
The importance of Sirhindi in the Naqshbandi silsila derives instead, we would suggest, from the emphasis he placed in his celebrated Maktûbat — three volumes of Persian epistles to his followers — upon obedience to the sunna and the shari’a as being itself the prime method of spiritual realization and advancement. This theme was not, of course, new in the history of the order, but it was elaborated more fully and systematically by Sirhindi than had been the case hitherto. All of the visionary and ecstatic experiences that accompany the practice of Sufism are firmly subordinated by Sirhindi to the single goal of adherence to the sunna and realization of the shari’a. Other Sufis had spoken of the tariqa either as the essence of the shari’a — the kernel within the husk — or as a stage lying beyond the shari a, implying in both cases a species of superiority of tariqa to shar’ia. By contrast, Sirhindi makes of the tariqa a more servant of the shar’ia which is something complete and self-sufficient, resisting division into husk and kernel. In a letter to Mulla Hari Lâhûri, one of his murids, he wrote as follows:
« The shari’a consists of three parts: knowledge (ilm), deed (amal) and sincerity (ikhlâs). Unless all three of these are present and realized, the shari’a cannot be said to have been fulfilled. When the shari’a is fulfilled, the pleasure of God Almighty and Exalted results, and this is superior to all forms of happiness to be found in this world and the hereafter... The shari’a is the guarantor of all happiness, both in this world and the hereafter, and there is no concern of man in which he has need of anything beyond the shari’a... The tariqa, by means of which the Sufis are distinguished from the rest of the community, is the servant of the shari’a and has the function of perfecting its third component, sincerity. The purpose for the attainment of the tariqa is merely the perfection of the shari’a, not the creation of something additional to the shar’ia... Those short-sighted ones who imagine spiritual states and moments of ecstasy to be among the goals of the path, and , who suppose that visionary experience is among its purposes, inevitably remain caught up in the
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prison of fancy and imagination and are deprived of the perfections of the shari’a. »/85
With this understanding of the relationship between tariqa and shar’ia and declaration of the nullity of mystical experience as a goal in itself, Sirhindi powerfully reinforced the sobriety that the Naqshbandi order had inherited from Abu Bakr, as well as the practical emphasis on enforcement of the shari’a that had been bestowed on it by Khwâja Ahrâr.
A secondary but related characteristic observable in the Naqshbandi line after Sirhindi, both in India and in Western Asia, is a polemical hostility to Twelver Shi`ism. The earliest traces of Naqshbandi opposition to Shi`ism — apart from the fact of bakri ancestry — are probably to be found in the part played by Amir Kulâl in the expulsion cf Shah Ni`matullâh Wali from Transoxiana. When the Safavids established a militant Shi`i state in Iran, the Naqshbandis were, as we have seen, among the victims of their persecution. In addition, the two major strongholds of the order, the Uzbek khanate of Bukhara in the east	and the Ottoman State in the west, found themselves from now on engaged in constant warfare with Iran. Sirhindi's concern was aroused in particular by the struggle between the Uzbeks and the Safavids for the control of Khorasan and the danger that militant Shi`ism might encroach on India. Aware ten of the danger posed to Sunni supremacy in India by the existence of a sizeable Shi’i community within the country, he devoted a separate treatise to the refutation of Shi`ism, known either as Radd-i Rawâfid or Kavâ'if-i Shi’a./86 The reduction of Shi’i influence at the Moghul court became one of the chief political aims of his third son and major successor, Khwaja Muhammad Ma`sum, and Mirza Mazhar Jânjânan, one of the major Naqshbandi luminaries of the twelfth/eighteenth century, was assassinated by a Shri in Delhi because of his polemics against the sect./88 Shortly after, Khwâja `Abd al-`Aziz Dihlawi, another son of the great Shah Waliyullâh, wrote a detailed refutation of Shirism under the title Tuhfa-yi Ithnâ `ashariya that became required reading in all the Mujaddidi khânaqâhs./89 A synoptic translation into Arabic from the Persian original was made in the early nineteenth century by Shihâb ad-Din al-Alusi; it is still widely read and referred to by Naqshbandis in Turkey, Syria and Iraq. Of less significance than the emphasis upon the shar’ia, this fostering of opposition to Shi`ism by Sirhindi and his successors nonetheless inspired another element of militancy in the Naqshbandi order.
85 Maktûbât, I, pp. 100-101.
86 Published under the latter title in Rampur, 1384/1965.
87 Khwaja Ahmad Husayn, Jawâhir-i Ma`samiya (Lahore, 1342/1923), pp. 18-19.
88 Ghulâm Sarwar Lahûri, Khazinat al-Asfiyâ (Lucknow, n.d.), I, p. 686.
89 Published in Lucknow, 1313/1896; reprinted in Lahore, 1396/1976.

The influence Sirhindi exerted through the Maktûbât — that were translated, at different times, into Arabic, Ottoman Turkish, Modern Turkish and Urdu — was powerfully supplemented by his progeny, physical as well as spiritual. In a manner reminiscent of the hadith that "I have left you two things, the Book of God and my family", it has even been said of Sirhindi that he bequeathed to the Naqshbandis, or, indeed, the Muslims at large, the Maktûbât and his own descendants./90 Sirhindi claimed for himself, and passed on to three of his lineal descendants, the rank of qayyûm, an exalted position of mystical preeminence that found its outer manifestation in the vast tomb complex of the four men at Sirhind, known as Rauda Sharif./91 Even in its present delapidated state, the Rauda at Sirhind is still a center of pilgrimage for the Naqshbandis of the subcontinent, as well as occasional visitors from Western Asia, particularly Turkey. As such it holds an important place in the spiritual geography of the Naqshbandi world.
Of the four qayyûms, the first, Khwaja Muhammad Ma`sum (d. 1079/ 1668), was by far the most important for the diffusion of the Mujaddidi branch of the Naqshbandi order. He composed a collection of letters on the model of those of his father,/92 and initiated into the order numerous followers from many parts of the subcontinent. Naqshbandi influence was introduced into Sind, for example, by two of his disciples, Makhdum Adam and Miân Kabir Muhammad of Thatta. Through the work of these two men and their spiritual progeny, Thatta became a major center of the order in Sind where it waged an unrelenting struggle against popular syncretic mysticism./93 Other followers of Khwâja Muhammad Mas’um took the Mujaddidi branch of the Naqshbandi order to Qandahâr, Kabul, Badakhshân and ultimately Transoxiana. The establishment of the Mujaddidiya in Central Asia, the original homeland of the order, is of particular interest. From the tenth/sixteenth century onward, Central Asia remained largely clued to the reception of external influence, both in Sufi matters and in general. That the Mujaddidiya was able to penetrate to places such as Bukhara, Tashkent and Yârkand is an indication of the compatibility of its genius with the original Naqshbandi impulse that remained dominant in the area.
90 Muhammad Murad al-Manzalâwi, Tarjamat Ahwâl al-Irnâm ar-Rabbâni (in margin of Arabic translation of Maktûbât [Mecca, 1316/1898), II, p. 86.
91 Ahmed Tuncer Akalin's pamphlet entitled Serhend (Istanbul, n.d.) contains illustrations of all the major structures in Sirhind.
92 Maktûbât-i Ma`sûmiya, ed. Ghulam Mustafâ Khan (Karachi, 1396/1976).
93 Ghulâm Mustafâ Khan, "The Naqshbandi Saints of Sind", Journal of the Research Society of Pakistan, April, 1976, pp. 19-47.
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It is also through Khwaja Muhammad Ma`sûm that the main initiatic line of the Naqshbandiya continues. From his son, Khwaja Sayf ad-Din, the third qayyûm, and Sayyid Nür Muhammad Bada'uni, it passes to a figure already mentioned in several connections — Mirzâ Mazhar Jânjânân. Mirza Mazhar is notable not only for the reasons previously indicated, but also because of his eminence as a poet, in both Persian and Urdu. Nor was he the only Naqshbandi of his age to be active in literary circles: the names of Muhammad Nasir `Andalib, Khwaja Mir Dard and Nasir `Ali Sirhindi, all Naqshbandi initiates, figure prominently in the literary history of Muslim India in the twelfth/eighteenth century./94 The eminence of Naqshbandi poets in Delhi at this time resembled, indeed, that of Jâmi and Nawa’i in Timurid Herat.
Mirza Mazhar's main khalifa, Shah Ghulam 'Ali (also known as Shah `Abdullah) Dihlawi (d. 1240/1824) built a khanaqâh on the site of his preceptor's tomb in the Chatli Qabar district of Delhi./95 Now rarely frequented, this khânaqâh was once a vital center for the diffusion of the Naqshbandi-Mujaddidi order throughout the subcontinent and westward to Syria, Iraq and Turkey. Sayyid Ahmad Khan, the well-known father of Indo-Muslim rationalism, relates that the khânaqâh was frequented by people not only from every corner of India, but also from Egypt, Damascus and Baghdad, as well as Africa, China and Tibet. Living in humble and self-abnegating fashion, Shah Ghulam ’Ali dressed and ate in the same fashion as his numerous followers, and his piety enjoyed high repute among contemporaries./96
From Ghulam `Ali, the direction of the khânaqâh passed to Shah Abû Said (d. 1250/1834) and then to his son, Ahmad Said, in whose time the khânaqâh was destroyed by the British during their sack of Delhi after the Indian uprising of 1857. Ahmad Said, in common with many other Indian ‘ulamâ, sought refuge in Mecca, and it was there he acquired his chief disciple, Shah Abu’l-Khayr, another Indian émigré. Shah Abu’l-Khayr returned to India in 1306/1889 and rebuilt the khânaqâh on its present site./97 Its direction is now in the hands of his grandson, Maulânâ Abu’l-Hasan Zayd Farugi, a man of great piety as well as considerable scholarly achievement in Arabic, Persian and Urdu.
It is not possible even to enumerate here all the multiple branches of the Mujaddidiya in the Indo-Pakistan subcontinent, but before turning to the two stages of its transmission to the western Islamic world, some mention at least must be made of the Naqshbandi affiliations of Shah Waliyullah Dihlawi
94 See Annemarie Schimmel, Islamic Literatures of India (Wiesbaden, 1973), pp. 42-48.
95 Shah Abel-Hagan Zayd Farugi, Maqâmât-i Khayr (Delhi, 1392/1972), p. 72.
96 Sayyid Ahmad Khan, Asâr as-Sanâdid (reprinted, Delhi, 1965), pp. 464-469.
97 Fârûqi, Maqamat-i Khayr, p. 199.
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(d. 1176/1763), the fruits of whose versatile genius placed the entire Muslim world in debt to its Indian sector. Shah Waliyullah's descent from Sirhindi is by way of Shaykh Adam Banuri, a khalifa who implanted the Naqshbandi-Mujaddidi tariqa among the Pathans and who was the progenitor of an important scholarly family the traditions of which have come down to the present./98 From Banûri, this branch of the silsila passes to Sayyid `Abdullah Akbarâbâdi and then to Shah `Abd ar- Rahim, father of Shah Waliyullah./99 The scope of Shah Waliyullah's work transcends, of course, the framework of the Naqshbandi silsila, and he is commonly counted among the major revivifiers of scholarship in the areas of tafsir and fiqh. But his interest in expounding the spirit and wisdom of the shari’a, expressed in his magnum opus, Hujjatullâh al-Bâligha, may be regarded as a prolongation, or even fulfilment, of the practical and theoretical interest in the primacy of the shari’a shown by two earlier figures in the Naqshbandi silsila, Khwaja Ahrâr and Shaykh Ahmad Sirhindi./100 As for his discussion of the themes of wahdat al-wujûd and wahdat ash-shuhûd, with an attempt at reconciling the two, this also belongs within the area of Naqshbandi-Mujaddidi concern. Finally mention may also be made of political activity, consonant with Naqshbandi tradition, above all his summons to Ahmad Shah Durrani to assume responsibility for the defence of the Muslims against the Sikhs and the Marathas./101 The works of Shah Waliyullah devoted exclusively to Sufism —Sata ât and Hama ât in Persian and Lamahât in Arabic — still await scholarly analysis and an assessment of their place in Naqshbandi thought./102
Shah Waliyullah's branch of the Mujaddidi silsila passes first to his son, `Abd al-`Aziz Dihlawi, and then to a disciple of `Abd al-`Aziz, Sayyid Ahmad Shahid Brelwi, who died in 1246/1831 fighting the Sikhs./103 The successor of the latter, Safi Nur Muhammad, took the Naqshbandiya to East Bengal, and the next three links in the silsila — Safi Fath `Ali (d. 1293/1886), Ghulam Salmâni (d. 1330/1912) and Sayyid `Abd al-Bâri (d. 1318/1901) — were all Bengalis. From `Abd al-Bari the line leads through Hâfiz Muhammad Hasan of Gondha (d.
98 Shaykh Badr ad-Din Sirhindi, Hazarât al-Quds, ed.Maulânâ Mahbab Ilâhi (Lahore, 1391/1971), pp. 383-385.
99 Shah Waliyullah wrote a detailed account of his father's life and Sufi activities: Anfas al-Arifin (Multan, n.d.).
100 The best edition of Hujjatullah al-Bâligha is that prepared by as-Sayyid Sâbiq (Cairo, n.d.).
101 See Khaliq Ahmad Nizâmi, Shah Waliyullah Dihlawi ke Siyâsi Maktûbât (Delhi, 1368/1969).
102 These three works have been edited by Ghulâm Mustafâ Qâsimi and published at Hyderabad, Sind, in 1383/1964.
103 A number of Sayyid Ahmad Shahid's letters are devoted to expounding the Naqshbandi path. See Makâtib-i Sayyid Ahmad Shahid, ed. Abd ar-Rashid Arshad (Lahore, 1395/1975), pp. 45-47.
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1379/1959 to a contemporary shaykh, Hâfiz Muhammad Said Khan of A`zamgarh. /104
We return now to the eleventh/seventeenth century in order to trace the first implantation of the Mujaddldiya in the western Islamic world. Among the numerous khalifas of Khwaja Muhammad Ma`sûm was one Shaykh Muhammad Murad, generally designated as Bukhara because of his birth in that city, but sometimes as Kabuli or Kashmiri because of the time he spent in those two places. After his initiation into the order at the hands of Khwaja Muhammad Ma’sûm in Sirhind, he embarked on an extensive series of travels, first travelling to the Hijaz for performing the hajj and then spending three years in Medina as mujâwir. From Medina, he returned to Bukhara for a brief visit, before leaving again for the west, travelling by way of Samarqand, Balkh, Baghdad and Cairo to Damascus, where he settled in about 1080/1669. Twelve years later, he visited Istanbul, and was received with great enthusiasm by the `ulamâ of the age, many of whom were initiated by him into the Naqshbandi order. Ceding to the persuasion of his new murids, who included Feyzullah Efendi, the Shaykh al-Islam, Muhammad Murad spent five years in the Ottoman capital. There then followed three decades spent between Damascus, Mecca and Medina, and a second visit to Istanbul, during which he died, in the year 1141/1729. He was buried in the Nisanci Pap district of Eyüp, and a tekke was erected on the site to become the fountainhead of the Mujaddidi branch of the Naqshbandi order in the Ottoman lands./105 Just as Shaykh Ahmad Bukhari's tekke was triplicated in the space of a few years because of the press of murids, so too a number of tekkes, all known as Muradiye, now sprang up along the Golden Horn. From one of them, that established in Çarsamba, there went forth in 1195/1781 a certain Husayn Babâ Zukic to found, at the village of Zivcici in the mountains of Bosnia, a Naqshbandi-Mujaddidi tekke that has defied all the vicissitudes of Balkan history and is still functioning today./106
Shaykh Muhammad Murad Bukhari also established a permanent Naqshbandi presence in Damascus, his chief place of residence, from where it radiated throughout Syria and Palestine, largely through the auspices of his physical descendants.
In addition to his descendants, both spiritual and physical, Muhammad Murad Bukhari left behind a number of treatises on the Naqshbandiya written in Arabic. One of these, translated into Turkish and made the subject of numerous
104 Muhammad Muti` ar-Rahman, Shajara-yi âliya-yi Naqshbandiya-yi Mujaddidiya, (A'zamgarh, 1392/1972).
10Muhammad Khalil al-Murâdi, Silk ad-Durar fi Acyân al-Qarn ath-Thcini Ashar (Bulaq, 1301/1883), IV, pp. 129-131.
106 Hamid Algar, "Some Notes on the Naqshbandi Tariqat in Bosnia", Die Welt des Islams, XIII (1972), pp.168-203.
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commentaries, is more frequently found in Turkish libraries than any other item of Naqshbandi bibliography, not only because of its relative closeness in time, but also because it is, by general agreement, unparalleled as a concise and authoritative statement of the principles of the Naqshbandi path./107 Awaiting publication, like these treatises, is a collection of Muhammad Murad's correspondence with his murids and other contemporaries that fully attests the amplitude of his fame in Istanbul, Mecca, Cairo, Damascus and Baghdad.
Another murid of Khwaja Muhammad Ma`sûm was Shaykh Ahmad Jarulla Jûryani, commonly known by the sobriquet of Yakdast. Originally entrusted with the coffee service of his master at Sirhind, he was sent to Mecca in 1056/1646 as his khalifa. He spent the remainder of his life there — hence the designation, Jarullah — and initiated numerous people into the Naqshbandi-Mujaddidi order, both residents of the Holy City and pilgrims. His foremost murid was Shaykh Muhammad Amin Tûqadi (Tokatli), who receiving his ijâza from Yakdast in 1129/1717 returned to Istanbul and became postnisin at one of the tekkes founded by Shaykh Ahmad Bukhâri — a pleasing illustration of continuity among different branches of the order. Shaykh Muhammad Amin gained a large following not only among the `ulama but also among the Ottoman bureaucracy. It was also he that provided the initiative for the translation of the Maktûbât of Sirhindi into Ottoman Turkish./109 The task was completed soon after his death in 1158/1745 bya`d ad-Din Mustagimzâda, regrettably in so florid and degenerate a style as to be barely comprehensible./110
This dual transmission of the Naqshbandi-Mujaddidi order to the Arab lands and Turkey was superseded in the thirteenth/nineteenth century by the birth of a new and powerful branch that although derived from the Mujaddidiya became an autonomous suborder in its own right. This was the branch of the Naqshbandiya established by Maulana Khalid Baghdadî, one of the key figures in the history of the Sûfi orders in the pre-modern period. In the same way that Sirhindi's impact on the silsila resulted in the ceining of the supplementary designation, Mujaddidi, so too is Maulana Khalid's place in its history attested by the rise of the designation Naqshbandi-Khalidi. Again like Sirhindi, Maulanâ Khalid is regarded as a "renewer", a mujaddid, for the whole Sunni Muslim community in general and for the Naqshbandi silsila in particular. Whatever be the validity of the general claim, there can be no doubt of the vitality and
107 Probably the best commentary on Muhammad Murad's treatise is that of Muhammad Rustam Rashid entitled Durr al-Muntakhab min Bahr al-Adab (Istanbul, 1274/1857).
108 Some of this correspondence is contained in ms. Esad Efendi 1419, ff. 60b-180b.
109 Seyyld Hasib Üskildâri, Menakib-i s'eyh Mehmed Emin Tukadi, ms. Ali Emiri (seriye) 1103.
110 The translation was published in Istanbul in 1277/1860.
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strength infused by Maulânâ Khâlid into the Naqshbandi order in Turkey, Syria and Iraq; contemporary adherents of the Naqshbandiya in those regions attribute their general pre-eminence among the existing Süll orders to the still inex-hausted baraka of Maulânâ Khâlid.
Born in the Shahrazür district of Kurdistan in 1193/1776, Maulânâ Khâlid studied and then taught in the medrases of Sulaymaniya before going on the hajj in 1220/1805. While in Mecca, he encountered a dervish who was committing the apparent discourtesy of sitting with his back to the Ka`ba. Maulana Khâlid inwardly reproved him, but the dervish intuitively understood and said, "why do you object? Do you not know that the worth of God's servant is greater than that of the Ka`ba? It Is more fitting that my face should be turned toward you". Maulânâ Khâlid repented instantly, and asked that the dervish should accept him as murid. He refused, telling Maulânâ Khâlid that his destined preceptor awaited him in India. Back in Sulaymâniya, Maulana Khâlid met a murid of Shah Ghulam `Ali of Delhi, whereupon he decided to travel to India and seek out the master. This he did, and after his arrival he swiftly became the foremost among Shah Ghulâm ’Ali's followers. After a year in the presence of the shaykh, Maulana Khâlid returned as his khalifa to SuIaymâniya in the year 1226/1811. He quickly won a large following, but under circumstances that are not entirely clear, he was compelled to leave Sulaymâniya for Baghdad. There he established, at the former Madrasat al-Ahsa'iya, a Naqshbandi zâwiya that is still functioning. Controversy again surrounded Maulânâ Khâlid in Baghdad, despite the entry into his circle of Said Pasha, governor of the city. Ill-wishers suggested to the Sultan that Maulânâ Khâlid had political ambitions, and he found it opportune to take up residence in Damascus, a city already impregnated with Naqshbandi influence thanks to the presence of the Murâdi family. He established residence there in the Kurdish quarter of the city, and it was there that he died and was buried in 1242/1827. /111 His modest tomb is well maintained, and constantly visited by Arab, Turkish and Kurdish adherents of the order, particularly before and after the hajj season, when the caravans of buses conveying Turkish pilgrims to and from the Hijaz make their customary stop in Damascus. In the zâwiya adjoining Maulânâ Khâlid's tomb, a dhikr ceremony is held before salat al-fajr on the first Monday of every Islamic month.
Maulânâ Khâlid, like Sirhindi, gave new emphasis to certain aspects of Naqshbandi practice and tradition. He again demonstrated the centrality of the shar’ia among the concerns of the order, not with the purpose of elucidating its inner aspect and meaning, as both Sirhindi and Shah Waliyullah had donc in their differing ways, but rather of securing its supremacy, in Muslim society at a time
/111 A brief biography of Maulânâ Khâlid is to be found in Muhammad Amin al-Kurdi, al-Mawâhib as-Sarmadíya fi Manaqib an-Naqshbandiya (Cairo, 1329/1911), pp. 255-281.
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that its hegemony was threatened from various quarters. His interest in the shar’ia bears closest comparison with that of Khwaja Ahrâr among his predecessors in the silsila. There is this difference, that while Khwâja Ahrâr exercized personal influence over Abû Said and Sultan Ahmad, Maulânâ Khâlid sought to protect and guide from afar the Ottoman State that he regarded as the ultimate guarantor of the shari’a.
As for the dangers he deemed to be threatening both state and shari’a, these he specified in his prayer for the well-being of "the exalted Ottoman State, upon which depends the victorious existence of Islam", at the end of his Risâlat ar-Râbita, as "the cursed Christians and the apostate Persians"./112 Maulânâ Khâlid's hostility for the Christians needs little explanation. In India, he had witnessed the subjection of the Muslims to British rule, and the Ottoman State itself, while still independent, had received a series of defeats at the hands of Russia. Militant opposition to the imperialism of Christian states became one of the dominant themes of the Khâlidi branch of the Naqshbandi order, exemplified in places as far apart as Daghistân and the Indonesian archipelago./113
The denunciation of the "apostate Persians" seems, by contrast, to be strangely anachronistic, given the major confrontation between the Ottomans and the Christian powers of Europe. It should not be forgotten, however, that the Ottomans and Iran had repeatedly gone to war in the late eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries for the control of Kurdistan, Maulânâ Khâlid's homeland. This circumstance combined with the anti-Shi’i instruction he received in India to inspire in him and his progeny a marked antipathy to Shi`ism. The major historical manifestation of this hostility was the prolonged and bloody revolt of Shaykh `Ubaydullah Naqshbandi in 1297/1880 against Iranian rule of Kurdish areas in what is now called Western Azerbayjan./114
To these two foci of enmity established by Maulânâ Khâlid, his successors added a third: Wahhâbism. It has recently been suggested that there was a certain Naqshbandi influence on the birth of Wahhâbism, and that the two movements were somehow akin as representatives of militant reformism and championing of the shari’a./115 The evidence is slight. It is true that one of Ibn
/112 Risâlat ar-Râbita (contained in Majmû`a `Azima fi Asrâr at-Tariq [Istanbul, n. d.l), p. 27.
/113 It may be of significance that Shaykh `Abd al-Qâdir al-Jazâ'iri, the celebrated leader of the Algerian resistance to the French, had a Khâlidi affiliation in addition to his primary Qâdiri line. See `Abd al-Majid b. Muhammad al-Khâni, al-Nadd'iq al-Wardiya fi Haqâ'iq Ajillâ’ an Naqshbandiya (Damascus, 1306/1889), pp. 281-282.
/114 See N.A. Khalfin, Bor’ba za Kurdistan (Moscow, 1963), pp. 108-134.
/115 John Voll, "Muhammad Hayyâ al-Sindi and Muhammad ibn `Abd al-Wahhab: an Analysis of an Intellectual Group in Eighteenth-Century Medina", Bulletin of the School of Oriental and African Studies, XXXVIII:1 (1975), pp. 32-38.
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`Abd al-Wahhâb's teacher in Mecca, Muhammad Hayât as-Sindi, was a Naqshbandi, and that certain Naqshbandis of the twelfth/eighteenth century strove against some aspects of tomb veneration./116 But there is no record of as-Sindi's extending his approbation to Ibn `Abd al-Wahhâb, and the Wahhâbis were far more radical than the Naqshbandis in their critique of tomb veneration. Both Wahhâbis and Naqshbandis gave emphasis to implementation of the shari’a, but the Wahhâbi understanding of the shar’ia was one that largely excluded adherence to the madhâhib, while Naqshbandis have insisted on the classical framework of taqlid. There was also a political aspect to the matter: the Wahnâbis were in revolt against the Ottoman State that the Khâlidi Naqshbandis strove to uphold. It is not surprising, therefore, to find a bitter denunciation of the Wahhâbis being penned by a Khâlidi of Baghdad: al-Minhat al-Wahbiya fi Radd al-Wahhâbiya by Da'ûd b. Sulayman al-Baghdâdi./117 Down to the present day, in Turkey, the Arab lands and Indonesia, we observe moreover a continuing antagonism between the Khâlidi Naqshbandis and those who stand under the influence of Wahhâbism and its successor movements.
In addition to a marked concern for the shar’ia and the preservation of the Ottoman State as its protector, the Khâlidi branch of the Naqshbandi order is also distinguished by an emphasis on the practice known as râbita — the linking, in the imagination, of the heart of the murid with that of his preceptor. This practice was by no means an innovation of Maulânâ Khâlid, and it is to be found in orders other than the Nagshbandiya./118 However, he laid unprecedented stress upon it, devoting to its legitimacy in terms of Qur'an and Sunna a letter that has been more frequently copied and printed than anything else he wrote. He defined it in novel fashion as "an imaginary fixing of the form of the shaykh between the eyes of the murid", and proclaimed that râbila was to be practised exclusively with reference to himself, even after his death./119 This question of the râbita, with its apparent implications of idolatrous devotion to the shaykh, has figured largely in disputes between the Khâlidis and their "reformist" opponents. Rashid Ridâ, for example, wrote a violent denunciation of the practice early in this century, and public debates on the subject took place in Sumatra in 1905./121
116 See, for example, Shah Waliyullah's al-Balâgh al-Mubin (Peshawar, n.d.)
117 Published Baghdad, 1305/1888.
118 Concerning the currency of this practice, under the name of fikr, in the Nimatullahi order, see Richard Gramlich, Die schiitischen Derwischorden Persiens, zweiter Teil: Glaube und Lehre (Wiesbaden, 1976), p. 408.
119 Risâlat ar-Râbita, p. 20.
120 His views are quoted by Shakib Arslân In as-Sayyid Rashid Ridâ au Ikhâ' Arbain Sana (Damascus, 1356/1937), pp. 50 ff.
121 Dellar Noer, The Modernist Muslim Movement in Indonesia, 1900-1942 (Kuala Lumpur and Singapore, 1973), p. 220.
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Maulânâ Khâlid left an extremely large number of khalifas who in a short period spread a network of Khâlidi tekkes throughout Anatolia, Rumelia, Syria and Iraq. The triumph of the Khâlidiya was particularly marked in Anatolia, where several shaykhs of other branches of the Naqshbandi order sought renewed initiation from their Khâlidi colleagues, thus confessing the supremacy of Maulânâ Khalid./122 Another measure of the ascendancy of the Khâlidiya in Anatolia was that it became the foremost Sûfi order in Konya, notwithstanding the spiritual presence there of Maulânâ Jalal ad-Din Rûmi./123
The circumstances of the first appearance of the Khâlidiya in Istanbul are obscure. It seems there was some opposition to the Khâlidis from the established Naqshbandi shaykhs of the city, and the first khalifa deputed there by Maulânâ Khâlid was expelled, at about the same time Maulânâ Khâlid himself left Baghdad for Damascus./124 Soon, however, the Khâlidiya began to win the favor of the Ottoman government, and it gained a large number of adherents, including the Shaykh al-Islam of Mahmûd II, Mustafa `Asim Efendi./125 Mahmûd II himself patronized the Khâlidis, although for a time he seems to have held them in suspicion./126
Such intimacy between a ruler holding a prominent place in the history of Ottoman reform and a Sûfi order concerned with the supremacy of the shar’iâ is at first sight surprising. But it should be remembered that the reformist concerns of Mahmûd II were largely military, and therefore in full conformity with the concern of the Khalidiya for the defence of the Ottoman State against the European powers. Moreover, in the course of his military reforms, Mahmûd II had dissolved — at least temporarily — the Bektâshi order because of its ties with the Janissaries. This was welcome to the Khâlidis, not only because of the crypto-Shi’i nature of the order, but also because Bektashi tekkes were now assigned to Naqshbandi custody./127 But as the process of governmental reform became ever more comprehensive during the Tanzimat period, the Khâlidis began to realize that the Ottoman State, or at least its ruling elite, might no longer be a protector of the shari’a, but instead another enemy. Thus we find Khâlidi Naqshbandis involved in many of the protests against the westernizing tendencies of `Ali Pasha and Fu'âd Pâshâ, such as the so-called Kuleli affair of 1859./128
122 See Kufrah, Naksibendiligin Kurulus ve Yayilisi, p. 182.
123 al-Khanî, al-Hadâ'iq al-Wardiya, p. 260, mentions the first arrival of the Khâlidiya in Konya.
124 Süleyman Falk, Mecmua, Istanbul Universitesi Tûrkçe Yazmalan 9577, f. 4a.
125 Ilmiye Salnamesi (Istanbul, 1334/1916), p. 580.
126 Bursalt Mehmed Tahir, Osmanli Mûellifleri (Istanbul, 1332/1914), II, p. 114.
127 Mehmed Esad Efendi, Uss-a Zafer (Istanbul, 1293/1876), pp. 213-221.
128 See U. Îgdemir, Kuleli Vaka'si Hakkinda bir Arastirma (Ankara, 1937), pp. 30, 62-63.
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With the accession of Sultan `Abd al-Hamid in 1876, the Ottoman State partially changed its direction and emphasized anew its nature as an Islamic polity. As an adjunct of his policy, `Abd al-Hamid sought the active cooperation of the Sûfi orders, and it is comprehensible that once again the Khâlidi Naqshbandis should have looked with favor on the Sultan and his ministers. The most important Naqshbandi shaykh of the age in Istanbul was Shaykh Ahmad Diyâ' ad-Din Kumushkhânawi (Gûmûshaneli), descended from Maulânâ Khâlid by way of Ahmad b. Sulayman al-Arwâdi. He spread the Naqshbandi order on the Black Sea littoral from Samsun to Rize, and enlisted with his mûrids to fight in the Russo-Ottoman War of 1877. But his major achievements took place in Istanbul. There he established a tekke that was visited by the Sultan and composed too his great compendium of hadith, Ramuz al-Ahâdith, possibly the last great monument of classical hadith scholarship./129 He made the study of hadith a distinctive feature of his branch of the Khalidi Naqshbandi silsila, and the tradition was continued until recently by one of his spiritual descendants, Shaykh Mehmed Zahid (Kotku) (d. 1980), imam of the Îskender Pasa mosque in the Fâtih area of Istanbul. Despite the proximity of Diyâ' ad-Din to Sultan `Abd al-Hamid, the Khalidi Naqshbandis were not the paramount order of the time, since the Sultan's associations were primarily with shaykhs of orders more widely represented in the Arab provinces, such as the Rifâ’iya and the Shâdhiliya.
After the Ottoman defeat in the First World War, numerous Naqshbandi shaykhs participated in the liberation struggle. Particularly to be mentioned are `Atâ Efendi, shaykh of the Özbekler tekke in Uskûdar, who gave refuge to nationalists sought by the allied police in Istanbul; /130 Shaykh Said, one of the principal forces behind the foundation of the Müdafa'a-i Hukuk Cemiyeti (Society for the Defense of Rights) in Erzurum; /131 and Hasan Fevzi Efendi of Erzincan./132 When the national movement was diverted from its original nature with the installation of the Kemalist regime, the proscription of the Naqshbandiya, together with all the other Sûfi orders, was only a matter of time. The immediate pretext for the ban was furnished by the uprising of Shaykh Sa’id in 1925; disillusioned with Mustafa Kemal, he sought to obtain by force the
129 For the biography of Kumushkhânawi, see Fevzi Efendi, Hadiyat al-Khâlidin fi Manaqib Quib al- Arifin (Istanbul, 1313/1895).
130 Kadir Muiroglu, Kurtulus Savafutda Sarikli Mûcahitler (Istanbul, 1969), pp. 263-273; Cemal Kutay, Curnhuriyetin Manevi Kuruculari (Ankara, 1972), p. 165.
131 Bekir Saki Baykal, Izmir'in Yunanitlar tarafindan isgali ve bu olayln Dogu Anadoludaki tepkileri", Tûrk Tarih Kurumu: Belleten, XXXIII (1969), pp. 541-542.
132 Cevat Dursunoglu, Milli Macadelede Erzurum (Ankara, 1946), p. 110.
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restoration of the caliphate and allegiance to the shar’ia./133 The law of September 1925 banning the Sûfi orders confidently stated that "from this day forth, there are no tariqats, or dervishes and murids belonging to them, within the boundaries of the Turkish Republic."/134 This optimism of the Kemalist regime was largely misplaced, for the Naqshbandiya has survived the formal proscription of the orders and is an important force in Turkey down to the present day. For this, various reasons can be adduced, such as the élitist and coercive nature of many of the secularizing changes implemented by the Turkish Republic. Perhaps more important was the misconception that merely by closing the doors of the tekkes the whole existence of the Sûfi orders could be brought automatically to an end. All that happened was that the most obvious and outward manifestation of the orders was terminated. The Naqshbandiya, with its sobriety and emphasis upon the shar’ia, could well dispense with tekkes and it was thus particularly well-equipped to defy the attempted abolition of the tariqats. In 1930, five years after the proscription of the Sûfi orders, Kazim Pada, chairman of the National Assembly, declared in frustration, "the Naqshbandi order is a snake that remains to be crushed."/135
Contrary to what is often assumed, Naqshbandi resistance to Turkish secularism has been largely passive, the rebellion of Shaykh Sa’id and his followers in 1925 being the sole major exception. It is true that, according to both Turkish and foreign historiography of the Turkish Republic, the Menemen incident of December 1930 was an abortive Naqshbandi uprising against the state, and even one of the chief confrontations between traditional and revolutionary currents in Turkey. The evidence suggests, however, that the incident was exploited (or even staged, according to certain observers) by Îsmet Înônû as a pretext for the attainment of various political purposes, including the elimination of an influential Naqshbandi shaykh, Muhammad As’ad.
Muhammad As’ad was born in Irbil in 1848, a physical as well as spiritual descendant of Maulânâ Khâlid. He came to Istanbul during the reign of Sultan `Abd al-Hamid and became postnisin at the Kelâmî Naqshbandi tekke in 1888. After the closure of the tekkes, he continued to receive visitors at his residence in the Istanbul suburb of Erenköy, but according to police reports still extant, he observed the letter of the law proscribing the tariqats. When, on December 23, 1930, a certain Dervis Mehmed attempted to rouse the people of
133 Concerning the motives behind Shaykh Sa’id's uprising, see Celadet Ali Bedirxan, Türkiye Reiscumhuru Gazi M. Kemal Paya Hazretlerine Açik Mektup (1933), (Istanbul, 1978), p 35.
134 The text of the law is reproduced by Sadik Albayrak in Turkiye de Din Kavgast (2nd. ed., Istanbul, 1975), pp. 188-189.
135 Mahmut Gologlu, Devrimler ve Tepkiler (Ankara, 1972), p. 132.
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Menemen in revolt, Ïnönü and his minister of the interior,	Sûkrû Kaya, used the incident as a pretext for a wave of arrests that engulfed Shaykh Muhammad As’ad and many other Naqshbandis. No substantial link was shown to have existed between Dervis Mehmed and Shaykh Muhammad As’ad, but numerous Naqshbandis were sent to the gallows, including Shaykh Muhammad As’ad's eldest son. The shaykh himself died in prison hospital; there are suspicions that he was the victim of foul play./136
On learning of Shaykh Muhammad As’ad's death, Carl Vett, a traveller who had made his acquaintance shortly before the closure of the tekkes, wrote: "a source of pure knowledge, through meditative absorption in the divinity, has ceased to flow."/137 119 This lament proved justified only in a limited sense, for the shaykh left behind a considerable spiritual progeny. Among his khalifas may be mentioned Haul Efendi of Düzce, Nuri Efendi of Sariyer, Hulusi Efendi of Beykoz and Muhyiddin Efendi of Bolu. Most important among them was Sarni Efendi (Ramazanoglu), a widely respected and scholarly ascetic who like his predecessor resided in Erenköy before retiring to Medina for the closing years of his life. Although it was never possible for him to receive more than a handful of his murids in his residence, the full magnitude of his following became apparent every year on the hajj, when thousands of his devotees, from Syria and Bosnia as well as Turkey, would gather round him.
Notable Naqshbandi shaykhs of the republican period now deceased also include Abdülhakim Arvasi, Süleyman Tunahan, Abdûlhayy Efendi of Besiktas, Shaykh Ismail of Sivas, and Serafeddin Efendi of Repdiye. Some of the foregoing deliberately refrained from appointing successors, for it seems they considered the age so degenerate and the apocalypse so close that the effective continuation of Naqshbandi tradition was no longer feasible. In general, however, numerous lines of Khâlidi Naqshbandi succession continue to exist in most regions of Anatolia.
Maulânâ Khâlid's impact on his Kurdish homeland was as fully profound as on Turkey. There were numerous Kurds among his khalifas, including ‘Abdullâh al-Hakkâri, ‘Abd ar-Rahman al-’Ugari and ‘Abd al- Qâdir al-Barzanji. In Kurdistan, the structure of tribal leadership gradually became intertwined with that of spiritual succession, so that a number of Naqshbandi families came to exercise both religious and worldly power on a hereditary basis. One such family was that of Shamdinan (or Nehri), to which belonged Shaykh ‘Ubaydullâh, leader
136 Concerning the Menemen incident, see Necip Fazil Kisakürek, Son Devrin Din Mazlumlarti (Istanbul, 1969), pp. 165-203, and Mustafa Müftüoglu, Yalan Sôyleyen Tarih Utansin (Istanbul, 1976), I, pp. 280-295.
137 Vett, Seltsame Erlebnisse in einem Derwischkloster (Leipzig, 1931), p. ix.
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of the 1880 uprising against Iran. /138 The Barzânis were by origin another such Naqshbandi family, although in recent years they have lent themselves to purposes at variance with Naqshbandi tradition. Just as the Barzânis have transformed themselves into political leaders of virtually secular type, so too the main emphasis of Kurdish militancy has changed from the Islamic objectives inculcated by the Khâlidiya to ethnic nationalism. This does not apply, however, to all the numerous Naqshbandi shaykhs found in every area of Kurdish settlement.
The most remarkable and consistent expression of Khâlidi militancy has been the Dâghistâni resistance/139 to Russian imperialism, conducted largely under the leadership of Naqshbandi shaykhs, Shaykh Shâmil and his successors. The Naqshbandi order appears first to have reached Dâghistân in the twelfth/eighteenth century from the Black Sea region of eastern Anatolia, but a more vigorous implantation of the order came several decades later when a number of Dâghistâni murids of Shaykh Ismael of Amasya, a khalifa of Maulânâ Khâlid, commenced activity among the Caucasian mountaineers./140 Their purpose was both to suppress non-Islamic customary law and to substitute for it an integral application of the shar’ia, and to resist the extension of Russian rule into Dâghistân./141 The first Naqshbandi leader of the Dâghistânis, Ghâzi Muhammad (also known as Qâdi Mullâ), was killed by the Russians in 1832, and his immediate successor, Hamza Beg, followed him into martyrdom only two years later. By contrast, Shaykh Shâmil who now assumed leadership of the movement, was able to resist the Russians for a quarter of a century, finally surrendering to superior might in August, 1859. So deep, however, was the implantation of Naqshbandi militancy in Dâghistân that numerous uprisings against Russian rule took place under the leadership of the order, and it has remained active down to the present day, despite more than fifty years of Soviet persecution./142
138 For a genealogical table of the shaykhs of Shamdinan, see Basile Nikitine, Les Kurdes (Paris, 1956), p. 213.
139 On the origins of the Naqshbandiya in Daghistan, see A. D. Yandarov, Sufism i Ideologiya Natsional'no-Osvoboditel pogo Dvizheniya (Alma Ata, 1975), pp. 64-65.
140 Kufrali, Naksibendiligin Kuruluf ve Yayilgi, p. 183.
141 For a concise description of the aims of the Daghistani ghazawât, see Muhammad Pâhir al-Qarâkhî, Bâriqat as-Suytif ad-Daghistâniya fi Ba`d al-Ghazawât ash-Shâmiliya, ed. L Yu. KrachkovskIy (Moscow and Leningrad, 1946), p. 8.
142 For a general history of Shaykh Shamil, see Tank Mumtaz Gaktepe, Imam Samil (Istanbul, 1969). Concerning the resistance of the Daghistani Naqshbandis to Soviet rule, see numerous publications by Alexandre Bennigsen, especially Mystics and Commissars: Sufism in the Soviet Union (Berkeley and Los Angeles, 1985).
37
Mention must also be made of the extension of the Khâlidi branch of the Naqshbandi order to the Malay world. A certain Naqshbandi presence already existed in various parts of the Indonesian archipelago -- notably Minangkabau, West Java and Makassar — established by shaykhs who had become affiliated to the Naqshbandiya in Yemen and the Hijaz during the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries./143 The precise tariqat identity of these shaykhs is, however, ambiguous: in many cases their practices drew heavily on the traditions of the Shattari order, which had been popular for long in many parts of the archipelago. It was the Khâlidiya who introduced the Naqshbandi order to the region in undiluted form. According to certain accounts, Maulanâ Khalid himself had a Sumatran khalifa, `Abdullah Minangkabawi, resident in Mecca; from him a line of succession is believed to have led first to Sulayman Qirimi and then to Sulayman Zuhdi, both of whom lived in Mecca. It then passed to Shaykh `Abd al-Wahhâb of Tanjong Pura, whose numerous khalifas spread the tariqat in both Sumatra and Java./144 From Sumatra the tariqat also passed to the Malay Peninsula and to Bandjarmassin in southern Borneo./145 Probably, however, the `Abdullah resident in Mecca to whom descent is traced was not a Minangkabawi but a native of Erzincan, Maulânâ Khâlid's designated khalifa in the Holy City; it was one of `Abdullah's murids, Shaykh Ismail, who originated from Minangkabau and after leaving the Haz spread the Naqshbandiya in the Riau archipelago and the Malay peninsula./146 Whatever the ambiguities in the history of the Khâlidiya's transmission to South-East Asia, it is certain that this influential branch of the Naqshbandiya spread widely in the Malay world in the second half of the nineteenth century, through the activities both of shaykhs — Turkish, Arab and Jawi — who resided in Mecca and of others who lived in South-East Asia. Some of the early Khalidis of Sumatra played some role in resistance to the Dutch, and were the subject of several anxious colonial investigations./147 Others, however, were close to various ruling families that were interested in maintaining an accommodation with the Dutch authorities, and
143 See Ph. S. van Ronkel, "Een Maleisch Getuigenis over den Weg des Islams in Sumatra", Bijdragen tot de Taal-, Land- en Volkenkunde van Nederlandsch-Indië, LXXV (1919), pp. 365-369; and A. H. Johns, "Islam in the Malay World", in Islam in Asia II: Islam in South East Asia, eds. R. Israeli and A. H. Johns (Jerusalem, 1984), pp. 124-125.
144 Syed Naguib al-Artas, Some Aspects of Sufism as Understood and Practised among the Malays (Singapore, 1963), p. 65.
145 Aboebakar Atjeh, Pengantar Ilmu Tarekat (Uraian Tentang Mystik) (Bandung, 1964), pp. 334-337.
146 Concerning Shaykh Ismail, see Snouck Hurgronjc, Mekka (The Hague, 1889), II, p. 355.
147 B. Schrieke, "Bijdrage tot de Bibliografie van de huldige godsdlenstlge beweging ter Sumatra's Westkust", Tijdschrift voor Indische Taal-, Land- en Volkenkunde LIX (1919-1921), pp. 249-325.
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therefore eschewed all political activity./148 In the twentieth century, Naqshbandis participated to a certain extent in the anti-colonial struggle, but they are said gradually to have retired from political activity as a result of friction with the modernists of the Muhammadiyah movement./l49 After the attainment of Indonesian independence, some Naqshbandis nonetheless participated in politics as a separate group, independent of the well-known Muslim parties, and called for the abandonment of secularism in favor of a polity based exclusively on Islam; however, the Partai Persuatan Tharikat Islam, founded by Jalal ad-Din, a Naqshbandi shaykh of Sumatra, never attained great influence.
Nonetheless, various Khâlidi shaykhs, as well as those deriving from different branches of the Naqshbandiya, continue to exist, scattered throughout the archipelago; one among them, Kadirun Yahya of Medan in Sumatra, is even claimed by his adherents to be "the sole authentic Naqshbandi leader in the world today."/150 In peninsular Malaysia, the Khalidiya is extremely widespread and popular; particular mention may be made of Haji Yabyâ bin Laksemana of Selangor. /151
It will be apparent that, by virtue of a certain spiritual geography, the Naqshbandi order has had only a slight impact on the Arab world, contrasting strongly with the universal appeal it has had for the Muslim peoples of Asia. The Khâlidiya has produced, however, a number of important figures in the Arab lands in recent times. One line of succession from Maulânâ Khalid established itself in Hums, passing from his khalifa, Shaykh Ahmad Tuzuqli, first to Shaykh Muhammad Salim Khalaf and then to his son, Shaykh Aba Nasr Khalaf. The last-named had two successors that wielded considerable influence in modern Syria: Shaykh Muhammad Hamid (d. 1969) of Hama and Shaykh Muhammad Nabhan (d. 1975) of Aleppo. Both were active in organizing opposition to various Syrian governments and in promoting educational activity within the Muslim community, thus manifesting once again the traditional Naqshbandi concern for the ascendancy of the shari’a and the cultivation of its sciences./152
148 For the case of the rulers of the Riau archipelago, see Abû Hassan Sham, "Tariqat Naqsyabandiyah dan Pcranannya dalam Kerajaan Mclayu Riau Schingga Awal Abad Kedua Puluh", in Tamadun Islam di Malaysia, ed. Khoo Kay Kim, (Kuala Lumpur, 1980), pp. 74-86.
149 R. C. Kwantes, De Ontwikkeling van de nationalistische Beweging in Nederlandsch-Indië (Groningen, 1975), p. 448, n. 3.
150 Personal communication from Ahmad Dahlan of Kab Pekalangan, Central Java, June 30, 1986.
151 Haji Yahya presides over an exclusively Naqshbandi settlement, Taman Naksyabandiyah, situated close to the campus of Universiti Kebangsaan in Selangor.
152 See, concerning these two figures, `Abd al-Hamid Tahmaz, al-`Allâma al-Mujâdhid ash-Shaykh Muhammad al-Hâmid (Damascus and Beirut, 1391/1971) and anonymous, "Kalimât `an as-Sayyid an-Nabhân", an-Nahda, no. 1 (Rajab 1396/July 1976), pp. 1-5.
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The Khâlidiya was introduced to Egypt in the second half of the nineteenth century. Although it never gained a vast following in that country, one of the Khâlidi shaykhs of Egypt must certainly be counted among the most celebrated Naqshbandi shaykhs of modern times. This is Shaykh Muhammad Amin al-Kurdi (d. 1914), originally of Irbil. His book, Tanwir al-Qulûb fi Mu`âmalat `Allâm al-Ghuyûb (9th. edition, Cairo, 1372/1953), a conspectus of the whole of the Islamic faith with its third part devoted to Sufism, is the most widely read of all Naqshbandi texts in the contemporary world./153 Muhammad Amin al-Kurdi's major khalifa was Shaykh Muhammad Yasuf as-Sagga, from whom are descended numerous Egyptian Naqshbandis of the present day.
It was not only the Khalidis that demonstrated the continuing vitality of the Naqshbandi order in modern times. Many shaykhs of the tariqat were active in the Central Asian homeland of the order, both in the traditional centers of Bukhara, Samarqand and Tashkent. and farther afield. A Russian survey of the sufi shaykhs of Tashkent, under aken in 1895, uncovered nineteen Naqshbandi shaykhs in that city alone./154 The role of the Naqshbandiya was indeed accentuated in certain respects by the arrival of the Russians, for leaders of the order often functioned as foci of popular opposition to Russian rule in the absence of effective resistance by the rulers of Bukhara and the other khanates. A Naqshbandi shaykh, Muhammad `Ali (known also as Dûkci Îshan), led the Andijan revolt of 1898, and later shaykhs assumed a leading role in the great Turkistani uprising of 1916./155 Certain Naqshbandi shaykhs were also of importance in sustaining the Basmachi resistance to the Bolshevik conquest of Central Asia, particularly notable being Sultan Îshân of Dushanbe./156 The Naqshbandis of Central Asia also continued into the age of Russian colonial rule another aspect of their traditional activity: the diffusion of Islamic faith among the Kazakhs and Kirghiz. For, example, a Naqshbandi shaykh from Kazan, Zaynullah Rasûl, opened a madrasa for Kazakhs in Troitsk at the turn of the century, with the express purpose of improving the level of religious knowledge and practice among the Kazakhs./157
Afghanistan has also witnessed the activity of various branches of the Naqshbandi order in the nineteenth and twentieth centuries. In the early nineteenth
153 Some description of the book is given by A. J. Arberry in his Sufism (London, 1950), pp. 129-132, grotesquely situated in the chapter entitled "The Decay of Sufism."
154 N. Lyochkin, "Les Ichans de Tashkent'', Revue du Monde Musulman, XIII (1911), pp. 135-140.
155 K.K. Pahlen, Mission to Turkestan (London, 1964), pp. 53-59; Baymirza Hayit, Tûrkistant Rusya ile Cin  arasinda (Ankara, 1975), p. 207.
156 A. M. Mukhtarov, « Dokument iz Istorii Avantyury Enver Pashi i Îshana-Sultana », lzvestiya AN Tadzhikskoi SSR (Otdelenie Obshchestvenn kh Nauk), 1973:3, pp.76-83.
157 Resit Rahmeti Arat, "Kazaktstan, "Islam Ansiklopedisi, VI, p. 502.
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century, a Naqshbandi dervish from Bukhara known as Sûfi Islam arrived in Herat and began propagating his own particular fusion of Naqshbandi and Yasavi practices. He died in battle in 1807 during the defence of Herat against a Persian army, but his descendants perpetuated his branch cf the order down to recent times, with its main khânaqâh at Karrukh./158 This composite Naqshbandi-Yasavi order had adherents throughout north-western Afghanistan, as well as among the Hanafi population of Iranian Khurasan.
Later in the nineteenth century, another Naqshbandi adept succeeded in combining spiritual eminence with temporal rule in the province known as Afghan Turkistan. Ishaq Khan, a member of the Earakzay dynasty, was appointed governor of the province by the Amir `Abd ar-Rahmân in 1880, but soon proclaimed his independence. Before his entry into the service of `Abd ar-Rahmân, Ishûq Khan had been initiated into the Naqshbandiya in Samarqand, and the brief rule that he now exercized from Balkh over northern Afghanistan was reminiscent in many ways of Khwaja Ahrâr’s sway in that Timûrid capital. He suppressed all non-shar`i imposts and lived in a modest and pious fashion that earned him widespread popularity./159
Of more lasting significance for the affairs of Afghanistan was the establishment in Kabul of a branch of the Mujaddidi family. Its founder, Miân `Abd al-Bâqi (d. 1287/1870), was separated by six generations of spiritual and physical descent from Shaykh Ahmad Sirhindi. Mian `Abd al-Bâqi's great-grandson, known variously as Fadl-i `Umar, Hadrat-i Shûr- Bazar, Shir Aqâ and Nûr al-Mashâyikh, fought against the British in the Third Anglo-Afghan War before playing a prominent role in the overthrow first of Amanullâh Khan and then of Amir i-Habibullâh (Bachcha-yi Saqqâ)./160 He died in 1956 and his son, Shir Pâcâ Jan Diya al-Mashâyikh, succeeded to his dignity. His residence at Qal`a Jawâd near Kabul was one of the chief foci of resistance  to the communist regime in Afghanistan until he was killed in the course of a massacre of the Mujaddidis of Kabul, Herat and Qandahar in January 1979.
In conclusion of this necessarily imperfect survey, we will venture some estimate of the present status of the Naqshbandiya in the Muslim world. Its major stronghold is most probably Turkey, despite the legal prohibition of the Sûfï orders. There is an influential shaykh of the order in Istanbul, and others in Balikesir, Bursa, Bolu, Yozgat, Ankara, Erzincan, Trabzon, Diyarbakir, Cizre,
158 Asi1 ad-Din Haravi,	Risâla- yi Mâzârât-i Harât (Kabul,_ 1346 Sh./1967), pp. 154-157.
159 M. Masan Kakar, Afghanistan, a Study in International Political Developments (Kabul, 1971), pp. 141-144.
160 Ludwig W. Adamec, Afghanistan's Foreign Affairs to the Mid-Twentieth Century (Tucson, 1974), pp. 139, 145, 171-172, 181.
Mus, Mardin, Bitlis, Adiyaman and Hakkari. The participation of Naqshbandi elements in the National Salvation Party of Necmettin Erbakan was an open secret; most of the leading figures in the party, including Erbakan himself, owed their allegiance to an Istanbul shaykh of the order. In the Balkans, the order has died out in Bulgaria and has only a marginal existence In Macedonia; the last Naqshbandi shaykh of Skopje, Yusuf Naksiler, migrated to Turkey in 1954. It is still quite active, however, at four centers in Bosnia — Sarajevo, Oglavak, Zivcici, and Visoko. In Syria, the Naqshbandis are well represented in Aleppo, Hama and Damascus, although somewhat overshadowed there by various branches of the Shâdhiliya. They are, by contrast, dominant in the area of mixed Arab, Turkish and Kurdish population that runs along the border between Turkey and Syria. They are less well represented elsewhere in the Arab world. Various branches of the Naqshbandiya are active in Egypt, but they are outnumbered by the numerous local orders and fraternities. The Naqshbandiya survives marginally in the Hijaz, despite the Saudi prohibition of the orders — an interesting coincidence of Wahhâbism with Kemalism. The influence of the Naqshbandiya in Pakistan is probably inferior to that of the Cishtiya, but there are Naqshbandi groups of varying size and importance in Karachi, Hyderabad, Lahore, Shaykhupura, Kuhat, Peshawar, Chakwalla, Kundian, and Nawabshah. Some Pakistani shaykhs have followers among Muslims of Indian origin in Kenya and South Africa. In India, there are shaykhs of the order in Srinagar, Delhi, Rampur, and Jaipur; and in Bangladesh, in Dacca and Faridpur. In Afghanistan, the Naqshbandiya survives, despite the massacre of the Mujaddidis, and its adherents are active in the resistance. The order is still found in Indonesia and it is strong in Malaysia, in the states of Johore, Kedah, Selangor, Negeri Sembilan and Trengganu. As for the Central Asian homeland of the Naqshbandiya, there are numerous indications that it has managed to survive more than five decades of Soviet rule: it continues to flourish in Dâghistân, Turkmenistan, Karakâlpakistan, and the Ferghana valley. According to a knowledgeable source, the main center of Naqshbandi activity in Uzbekistan is the relatively closed city of Namangan./161 It is highly probable that various branches of the Naqshbandiya survive also in China, although the degree of their vitality is difficult to ascertain. Finally, we may mention some extension of the Naqshbandi order to the West, brought about by Turkish workers in Germany and Pakistani and Turkish Cypriot immigrants in England.
The present status of the Naqshbandiya is not, of course, a question merely of diffusion and quantity, but also of authenticity and quality. It is, indeed, appropriate that contemporary Naqshbandis, whose order has always claimed a certain pre-eminence among the Sûfi paths, should be measured
/161 Conversation with Shaykh Ahmad Kuftaro, Damascus, April, 1977.
42
against the criteria yielded by their history. The Naqshbandi order, as we have seen, distinguished itself historically by an emphasis on sober adherence to the shar’ia as the indispensable concomitant of the spiritual path. This important characteristic seems largely to have been retained, and all but the most ferocious among the modern Muslim critics of the Sûfi orders will admit that the Naqshbandiya is at least partially exempt from their strictures. Where deviations from the shari’a have occurred, they have usually been caused by extraneous influences, absorbed from various local environments. Such was the case with the Haqqa heresy of Kurdistan, an area of interaction with the Ahl-i Haqq./162
As for the related insistence of the Naqshbandiya on the practice of silent dhikr, this has, by contrast, been widely abandoned120. In Turkey, for example, it is possible that even a majority of Naqshbandis now practise vocal dhikr, being either unaware of the silent dhikr or regarding it as a higher stage of spiritual practice indefinitely beyond their reach. The frequent substitution of vocal for silent dhikr may in part be ascribed to the confusion that has arisen from the practice of multiple affiliation to several different orders. The practice is by no means recent, and is first encountered in the Naqshbandi silsila with Khwâja Baqi Billah who joined to his primary Naqshbandi loyalty affiliations with the Yasa-vi, Kubravi and Qâdiri orders./163 Initially it caused no confusion of practice or ritual; the secondary affiliations were largely formal, and regarded as important mostly for the extra baraka they yielded. But in recent times the lines of demarcation between the practices of different orders have become increasingly blurred121, and we find certain Naqshbandis in Bosnia adhering to Qâdiri practice,/164 and others in Aleppo resorting to the hadra of the Shâdhilis./165 A further and more significant explanation for the partial disappearance of silent dhikr may lie in the fact that it has always been a method of spiritual realization suited to a minority for whom all activity of the tongue is an unwelcome distraction122. The minority appears to be particularly small in the present age; hence the primacy of vocal dhikr among the Naqshbandis.
The sociopolitical role of the Naqshbandiya in Islamic history was generally marked by a concern with the cultivation of the religious sciences and often, too, by a desire to assert the supremacy of the shar’ia as sole basis of the Muslim state. The first of these two emphases has been largely maintained, although at a level that reflects the general decline in traditional religious
162 See C. J. Edmonds, Kurds, Turks and Arabs (London, 1957), pp. 204-205.
163 Khwâja Baqi Billah, Mashâyikh-i Turuq-i Arba’a, ed. Ghulâm Mustafâ Khân (Hyderabad [Sind], 1389/1969.
164 Algar, "Some Notes on the Naqshbandi Tariqat in Bosnia", pp. 188-190.
165 Shaykh Muhammad Adib Hassan and his followers at the Aqyûl mosque, visited by me in April, 1977.
43
scholarship in the Muslim world. Among Muslim scholars of recent times that have had Naqshbandi affiliations may be mentioned Muhammad Zâhid al-Kauthari (d. 1952) of Turkey, Muhammad Hamid al-Hamawi (d. 1969) of Syria, and Maulânâ Aba'l-Hasan Nadawi (still living) of India.
It is more difficult to judge, on a uniform scale, the success of the Naqshbandiya in maintaining loyalty to the concept of a shar’ia-based polity. Independent Naqshbandi ventures in modern politics have been extremely rare and usually unsuccessful. There are shaykhs who explicitly or implicitly have foresworn all political activity, and others who content themselves with lending their support and that of their following to various contenders for political power. Numerous too are those whose attitudes are characterized by passive resistance to the various regimes that have gained sway over the Islamic world. Sustaining their followers in allegiance to their understanding of the spiritual core of Islamic tradition, they rarely address a wider audience on the affairs of society with the vigor shown by Khwâja Ahrâr, Shaykh Ahmad Sirhindi, and Mauldnâ Khâlid Baghdâdi.
After attempting to measure the Naqshbandiya by those criteria that are peculiarly applicable to it, it is necessary to raise also the more general, profound and difficult question of quality and authenticity on the purely spiritual plane, a question that applies to all the Sûfi orders in the contemporary world. That a certain qualitative decline has indeed taken place would be admitted by many adherents of the Naqshbandi order, and this is evidenced by the very fact that no major renewer of the order has emerged after Maulânâ Khâlid, despite what might be regarded as the obvious needs of the age. They would add, however, that this decline is perhaps in the nature of things, and by no means signifies an end to the legitimacy of the orders. It was already pointed out by a Turkish Naqshbandi of the last century that perfection in matters of the tariqat is relative, and that a shaykh who in another age would be unfit even to act as murid will be perfectly fitted for the diminished capacities of men in the present age./166
It can be said with respect not only to the Naqshbandiya but also to all the great Sûfi orders that whereas the tariqat was once like a wide and gushing stream, reaching broad segments of the community, enriching its cultural, literary, intellectual and religious life, and on occasion influencing its political fortunes, it is now more like a placid and sometimes subterranean rivulet, fulfilling more limited functions for a more limited number of men. And in this ebbing of the current of tasawwuf many Sufis perceive a striking confirmation of the saying of the Prophet, upon whom be peace:
[la page 44 manque dans notre relevé. La page 45 débute par « B.The present state of Naqsbandi Studies, 45-59, du même Hamid Algar ].
/166 Muhammad Rustam Rishid, Durr at-Muntakhab min Bahr al-Adab, p. 33.


                                                                          

Naqsbandis dans l’Empire Moghol (D.T.)

Je relève des rencontres entre ‘notre’ filiation Naqsdandie et les détenteurs du Pouvoir dans l’Empire.

Au temps du fondateur Babur

Dans Le Livre de Babur ¹²³ je relève les relations avec Khaja Ubaidullah Ahrar pôle de son temps :

26 ...notre auteur, à l’âge de ses premières leçon d’équitation et d’arts martiaux, reçut aussi celles de Khaja Ubaidullah Ahrar et de ses fils, guides mystiques de l’ordre de la Naqchbandiyya, dont Umar Chayk Mïrza [son père] était personnellement un fidèle adepte. […] Babur note des faits selon une démarche que l’on peut croire empreinte d’une authentique spiritualité [et v. la suite]

51 Il était disciple de Monseigneur le Khaja Ubaidullah [+21 février 1490] qui l’honorait de ses entretiens et l’appelait même « mon fils » [ v. même page les lectures cultivées de Babur].

75 [sur son père disciple du Khaja]

84 Les gens de Samarcande qui du temps de Sultan Ahmad Mïrza, avaient passé vingt-cinq ans dans la tranquilité et le bien-être , grâce à la binfaisante influence de Monseigneur le Khaja qui faisait régler la plupart des affaires dans la voie de la justice et de la loi coranique, furent affligés...

88 [traité avec mépris par le Sultan Mahmud Mïrza]

109 [rivalité entre les enfants de Khaja Ubaidullah]

708...il me vint à l’idée de versifier l’Epitre Paternelle de Monseigneur le Khaja Ubaidullah. Mettant ma confiance en l’âme de Monseigneur, je pensais que s’il acceptait ce ppoème, ainsi que l’ode de l’auteur de la Quasideye borde [d’Al Buziri] avait été acceptée et l’avait guéri de la paralysie, je serais moi aussi délivré de cette maladie et que cela serait une preuve de l’acceptation du poème. Dans cette intention je commençaiss à versifier l’Epître […] La maladie décrut et j’en fus bientôt guéri.

732 Telle était mon envie de vin que j’en arrivais à la frontière des pleurs. Cette année, Dieu soit loué, le désir m’est tout à fait sorti de l’esprit. Cela est certainement dû à la félicité et à la bénédiction que m’a valu la versification de la traduction.

772 Ce souverain mit en vers l’épître composée par Khaja Abrar et qui a pour nom la Validiyya. […] Il a composé ce quatrain persan :

Bien que je ne sois point parent des derviches,

Je leur suis attaché par le coeur et par l’âme.

[…]

me séparer de toi, c’est me détruite moi-même, je le sais.

[...]

787  [voir les références au Khaja Kalan Ahrari, successeur d’Ahrar]

Au début du XVIIe siècle

Le « rénovateur du second millénaire » Sirhindi est convoqué par l’Empereur en vertu d’une tradition ouverte dès le père du grand conquérant fondateur Babur.

Relations étroites non recherchées.

Les rapports entre Porteurs d’une filiation naqsbandie mystique et Puissants de l’Empire moghol naquirent de la Tradition ouverte par son fondateur Babur : très reconnaissant envers un maître actif dès une enfance effacée tandis que rien ne laissait prévoir la naîssance d’un Empire. Cela permit une relation qui ne naquit pas d’une Porte¹²⁴ recherchée.

La Malamatiyya (J.-J. Thibon)

Extrait de Jean-Jacques THIBON, L'OEUVRE D'ABU `ABD AL-RAHM.AN AL-SULAMÎ 325/937-412/1021 ET LA FORMATION DU SOUFISME, DAMAS, 2009

Les débuts de l'école malâmati demeurent obscurs. Le caractère laconique, voire contradictoire, des informations contenues dans nos sources, y compris les plus anciennes, n'est certainement pas étranger à la désaffection des chercheurs pour cette question. L'étude détaillée rédigée par Abu 'Ala' al-`Afifi 162 n'a pas été mise à jour ou complétée et, cinquante ans plus tard, notre compréhension globale de la Voie du Blâme n'a que peu évolué, même si certains points sont maintenant mieux connus 163.
Le terme malâmatiyya désigne à la fois une forme de spiritualité apparue au milieu du Iiie siècle à Nisâbur, mais aussi, dans la typologie spirituelle, une catégorie relevant d'une approche doctrinale beaucoup plus difficile à appréhender, car fluctuante selon les auteurs. Les imbrications entre le mouvement hurâsanien, susceptible d'une approche historique, et les élaborations doctrinales ultérieures, ne facilitent pas la compréhension du phénomène, ni le repérage d'une appartenance à un groupe dont l'une des règles cardinales est la recherche de l'anonymat absolu.
162. Cf. 'AFIN, al-Malâmatiyya wa-l-sufiyya wa-ahl al-futuwwa (abrégé par la suite en Risâla). Pour plus de détails, voir infra, note 52.
163. Grâce aux travaux de R. DELADRIERE, sa traduction de la Risâla, qui utilise un manuscrit que 'Afifi ne connaissait pas, et sa contribution « Les premiers Malâmatiyya : "les Gardiens du Secret" » in Mélamis-Bayramis, Études sur trois mouvements mystiques musulmans, p. 1-14 ; le même ouvrage réunit également les contributions de M. CHODKIEWICZ, « Les Malâmiyya dans la doctrine d'Ibn `Arabi », p. 15 à 25 et de H. ALGAR, « Éléments de provenance malâmati dans la tradition primitive naqshbandi », p. 27-36, qui portent sur une période plus tardive. L'article de J. CHABBI propose une approche socio-historique de la question pour la période qui nous concerne, cf. Remarques, p. 5-72. C. Melchert, partant des hypothèses de J. Chabbi, s'attache à les enrichir, en identifiant plus précisément la formation de l'école malâmi et son absorption par le soufisme irakien. Il utilise aussi al-Hakim mais à travers les citations qu'en donne Dahabi dans le Ta 'rib al-islam et les Siyar, cf. C. MELCHERT, « Sufis and competing movements in Nishapur », p. 237-47. Pour la fin de la période mamelouke, É. GEOFFROY, Le Soufisme en Égypte et en Syrie, p. 343-56.
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Il est difficile de désigner le fondateur de ce mouvement, d'abord parce qu'il est malaisé de définir à partir de quel moment précis certaines idées acquièrent une cohérence suffisante pour pouvoir parler d'une école ou d'un mouvement, avec ce que cela implique d'autonomie et de traits distinctifs ; ensuite parce que les dénominations postérieures n'avaient pas comme premier souci la précision historique ou procédaient de reconstructions dont les a priori n'étaient pas absents. Une autre difficulté réside dans le fait que les mouvements qui représentent les diverses formes de la spiritualité musulmane, ascétique, soufie, malâmi, karrâmi, etc., ne présentent pas de frontières étanches pour les individus, au point que cette division, méthodologiquement utile, paraît parfois superficielle.

Histoire et doctrine

Courant spirituel qui s'inscrit dans un contexte historique particulier, la malâma est avant tout fondée sur une attitude : le refus de l'hypocrisie, du pharisaïsme sous toutes ses formes auquel elle oppose la parfaite sincérité grâce à une méthode, le blâme que l'aspirant adresse à son ego, ou qu'il s'attire de la part des hommes. à ce titre elle n'est pas proprement islamique, et peut être repérée antérieurement à l'apparition de l'islam 164. Que cette attitude coïncide avec des formes religieuses non islamiques ne doit pas pour autant nous conduire à la taxer d'emprunt au fond religieux que l'islam a côtoyé au cours des conquêtes qui ont entraîné son expansion. Trouver des points communs entre la malâma et la philosophie grecque, le pessimisme zoroastrien 165 ou le monachisme syriaque n'indique, au mieux, que la dimension universelle d'une telle attitude 166. La parenté avec le concept de taqiyya, propre aux chiites, s'il est a priori recevable, se limite toutefois à des similitudes formelles : la dissimulation des oeuvres répond chez le malâmati à un objectif spirituel tandis que la dissimulation de la doctrine provient le plus souvent, chez le chiite, d'un contexte politique défavorable 167.
164. Cf. M. MOLE, Les mystiques musulmans, p. 19, 72 et sq. qui a fait des rapprochements avec le monachisme syriaque. D'autres formulations sont toutefois plus difficiles à prouver : ainsi T. YAZICI, dans son article sur les qalandariyya, affirme que « [...] les premiers Malamatis auraient été inspirés par l'exemple des ascètes de ce genre... (il s'agit des bouddhistes) », cf. EF, IV, p. 494a.
165. Cf. 'AFIFI, op. cit., p. 8 et 42.
166. « Il y a des "lieux communs" pour l'humanité » disait MASSIGNON, cf. Lexique, p. 54, note 2.
167. Cf. Kâmil Mustafâ AL-JAYBI, al-Sila bayna al-tasawivuf wa-1-tasayyu', I, 551-2. Pour l'auteur, le point commun est la préservation de la doctrine et un pessimisme foncier.
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Sur le plan doctrinal, l'absence de distinctions claires entre le malâmati et le sufi 168, ou d'autres types de spirituel musulman, rend difficile la recherche d' influences extérieures. Les références coraniques au « blâme » peuvent suffire à expliquer l'importance de cette notion dans la spiritualité musulmane, sans qu'il soit besoin d'avoir recours à des éléments étrangers.
La racine arabe qui correspond à cette notion de blâme est : L-W-M 169. Trois occurrences coraniques sont plus directement liées à notre sujet : la mention de « l'âme qui blâme 170 », une parole de Satan qui dit « Ne me blâmez pas, mais blâmez vos âmes 171 », une autre enfin où le Coran annonce la venue d'hommes qui « n'auront à craindre le blâme de personne 172 ». Les hadiths dans lesquels la même racine apparaît sont aussi nombreux et constituent donc également une source d'inspiration 173. Outre ces références scripturaires, les malâmatiyya trouveront dans le Coran d'autres arguments pour justifier le rôle essentiel du blâme : les anges ne furent-ils pas les premiers à adresser à Dieu des reproches, à cause d'Adam 174 ? Du reste, avant d'être une école, la malâma ne doit-elle pas plutôt être considérée comme un « tempérament spirituel » ou une source d'inspiration spirituelle (masrab) plutôt que comme une voie spécifique (tariqa)175 ?
L'existence d'un terme unique pour désigner un tempérament spirituel aussi bien qu'une voie spécifique ne pouvait que conduire à une certaine ambiguïté dans l'emploi du terme malâma. C'est en référence à une attitude, la
168. TRIMINGHAM note que cette question de la distinction entre le Sûfi et le malâmati est « quelque peu confuse », cf. The Sufi orders in Islam, p. 264.
169. On dénombre 14 occurrences de cette racine dans le Coran, cf. Mu `gam, p. 654.
170. « Non ! J'en jure par l'âme gui blâme sans répit. » Cf. Cor. (75, 2).
171. Ou « mais blâmez-vous vous-mêmes », cf. Cor. (14, 22).
172. Cf. Cor. (5, 54).
173.70 occurrences de la racine L-W-M dans Concordance.
174. Selon l'interprétation, il est vrai plus tardive, de Cor. (2, 30) donnée par Nain al-Din DAYA RAri (m. 654/1256) dans son Mirsâd al-`ibâd, cf. la traduction de H. ALGAR, The Path of God's Bondsmen from Origin to Return, p. 108. Cet auteur est un disciple de Nagm al-Din Kubrâ (m. 654/ 1256), fondateur de la voie kubrawiyya, l'une des principales au Hurâsân à l'époque mongole. Une telle interprétation n'apparaît pas dans les Haqâ'iq, toutefois Abû `Ulmân al-Magribi, commentant ce même verset, rejoint les préoccupations des malâmatiyya : il affirme qu'il n'y a pas de pire épreuve pour les créatures que les prétentions (da'âwa-), les anges étant contraints, après avoir mis en vivant leurs oeuvres, de reconnaître leur ignorance, cf. Haqâ'iq, f. 11 b. Le célèbre épisode coranique ale la rencontre de Moïse avec al-Hidr représente le modèle du reproche qui est fondé sur la seule compréhension extérieure des comportements, et qui doit être dépassé.
175. Cf. H. ALGAR, « Éléments de provenance malamati dans la tradition primitive naqshbandi », p. 27.
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recherche d'une sincérité absolue, au départ isolée et adoptée par des individus de manière plus ou moins consciente, que l'on pourra qualifier de malâmati un spirituel ayant vécu avant l'apparition de ce courant ou ne s'y rattachant pas de manière expresse 176. Par la suite, celle-ci devient l'élément central d'une doctrine qui rassemble des hommes de spiritualité en un courant particulier, la Voie du Blâme, qui naît et se diffuse dans une région, se distinguant par des traits suffisamment caractéristiques pour pouvoir représenter la spiritualité propre du Hurâsân. L'affirmation de Gunayd « La futuwwa est en Syrie, l'éloquence en Irak et la sincérité au Hurâsân » laisse penser que ce sidq qui caractérise la région est en grande partie dû à la malâma 177.
Ce mouvement est en général présenté comme une réaction au soufisme bagdadien 178 qui, après la richesse de la période fondatrice, connut, sous le poids de la codification, de nombreux avatars. Les excès dans le formalisme, une extériorisation par trop visible de la spiritualité, imposaient certainement des corrections. Les malâmatiyya étaient conscients des dangers que représentaient ces tendances, comme le sera également Abu Hamid al-Gazâli un peu plus tard. Mais il est vraisemblable que la malâma se soit aussi développée en réaction aux pratiques des karrâmites qui diffusaient une spiritualité aussi spectaculaire que voyante. Il est certain que les Gens du Blâme se démarquaient d'autres formes de spiritualité, mais il serait plus hasardeux d'affirmer que l'impulsion du mouvement corresponde uniquement à une réaction à telle ou telle de ces formes. Si la malâma a tenu compte des erreurs passées ou présentes, elle dispose d'un fondement doctrinal suffisamment solide et original pour avoir connu un développement autonome.
Les fondements mêmes de la malâma la condamnaient au silence, à tout le moins lui interdisaient des développements dogmatiques qui l'auraient amenée à reproduire les travers qu'elle dénonçait. Ils barraient la voie par avance à de possibles structurations. Sa nature propre l'écartait des pratiques collectives pour l'orienter vers des pratiques individuelles qui récupéraient l'héritage du zuhd des deux premiers siècles sous une forme entièrement renouvelée.
176. MOLE affirme de manière abrupte : « Hallâg est un malâmati », op. cit., p. 72, propos qui est atténué quelques pages plus loin où il est cette fois question de « connections malamati », p. 77. Cela semble acceptable uniquement si l'on se réfère à des formes bien plus tardives de ce mouvement, mais ne correspond pas aux principes énumérés par Sulami dans sa Risala, sauf à viser des aspects particuliers du personnage.
177. Cf. Qusayri, p. 176.
178. Cf. MOLE, Autour du Daré Mansour, p. 55.
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Les développements ultérieurs de la voie des Gens du Blâme, ses avatars que représentent les qalandars ou des mouvements qui n'auront plus en commun avec elle que le nom, sortent de notre cadre d'étude. Il n'est pas excessif d'affirmer que les malâmatiyya de Nisâbur, promoteurs d'une spiritualité extrêmement exigeante, ont été victimes d'une confusion liée à l'usage d'une dénomination identique pour désigner des mouvements forts différents 179.

Les hommes

Une confrérie est généralement désignée par le nom de son fondateur, clairement identifiable, bien que ses successeurs aient parfois contribué de façon tout aussi décisive à sa constitution ou à sa diffusion. Mais les malâmatiyya ne forment pas une confrérie et, de même qu'il paraîtrait saugrenu de rechercher le fondateur du soufisme, il est tout aussi vain de tenter d'identifier le fondateur de la Voie du Blâme. Les malâmatiyya partagent certes des principes ou des méthodes, mais ils ne se reconnaissent pas d'ancêtre commun. Inutile donc de rechercher un improbable fondateur unique. Mais alors sur quel critère décider de l'appartenance de tel maître à la malâma ? Le cas de Bistâmi est significatif : malgré les hésitations qui ont pu se manifester quant à son rattachement à cette école 180, le témoignage d'Ibn `Arabi, le peu de cas qu'il faisait des charismes ou le fait qu'il encourage un disciple à encourir le blâme 181 suffisent assurément à en faire un précurseur direct des malamatiyya.
Le mouvement des Gens du Blâme est souvent rattaché au nom d'Abri Hafs al-Haddad (m. 267/880), désigné comme son fondateur par Sulami 182. Cette affirmation ne va pourtant pas de soi. Si l'on se réfère à la Risâla de Sulami, il est aisé de constater qu'Abri Hafs est la référence la plus importante, du moins par le nombre de citations. Cela peut certes être une bonne indication de la place de ce personnage, d'autant que Sulami le qualifie expressément de « maître de ce groupe 183 ». On observe pourtant que dans une oeuvre postérieure, les Tabaqât
179. Cf. TRIMINGHAM, The Sufi orders in Islam, p. 267-9. Ainsi l'opinion de T. YAZICI qui écrit : « Ce mouvement (il s'agit des qalandars), tout comme la Malâmatiyya, possédait des principes généraux de base qui n'étaient rien de plus qu'un corpus d'idées » nous semble une illustration de cette confusion, cf. art. Kalandariyya, EF, IV, p. 494a.
180. Cf. D. GRIL, « Les débuts du soufisme », p. 36.
181. Cf. R. DELADRIÈRE « Abû Yazid al-Bistâmi et son enseignement spirituel », p. 78 et 83.
182. Cf. J. CHABBI, Remarques, p. 30, qui indique qu'al-Hakim ne le présente que comme zâhid. G. GOBILLOT le considère comme « l'un des fondateurs reconnus », cf. Le Livre, p. 40.
183. Cf. Risâla, p. 88. L'expression employée par Sulami est « sayb hâdihi al-qua ».
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celui-ci ne fait plus référence ni même allusion à cette qualité, le désignant dans une terminologie très vague comme faisant partie des « imams et des maîtres (sâda) 184 ». Ajoutons que Sulami indique clairement la supériorité de ce groupe sur les autres spirituels dans le premier ouvrage cité 185, ce que l'on ne retrouvera plus exprimé en termes aussi catégoriques dans le reste de son oeuvre. Il en découle une interrogation légitime sur ce qui semble une révision de jugement ou au moins de présentation. Faut-il attribuer ce revirement à l'objet respectif des deux ouvrages ou au changement du contexte général à l'époque 186 ?
Quant à Abri Nu'aym, il n'évoque d'Abri Hafs que la perfection de sa futuwwa 187. C'est d'ailleurs bien ce trait qui semble le caractériser, et les récits dans lesquels il est mis en présence des soufis bagdadiens nous montrent ces derniers l'interrogeant sur la futuwwa et non sur la malâma 188.
Sulami affirme que la malâma se répandit à partir d'Hamdrin al-Qassâr 189. Si l'on prend son expression à la lettre, on peut considérer ce personnage comme une charnière qui délimite un avant où la malâma ne dépasse pas l'enceinte de Nisâbür - ce qui expliquerait que pour les bagdadiens il n'existe, du temps d'Abri Hafs al-Haddâd, qu'une forme de spiritualité à Nisâbür, la futuwwa - et un après où, par l'intermédiaire d'Hamdün al-Qâssâr et de ses disciples, le mouvement se répand en dehors du Hurâsân. Il est certain que son influence sur la spiritualité de son temps fut considérable, et que son enseignement lui survécut. Les sources postérieures en ont conservé la trace et désignent sous le nom de qassâri cette branche de la malâma regroupant ceux qui portent cette empreinte spirituelle dont il marqua ses disciples 190. Toutefois, il demeure difficile de déterminer quels sont
184. Cf. TS, p. 115-6.
185. Cf. Risâla, p. 86-7.
186. R. DELADRIÈRE évoque comme hypothèse que la Risâla est une oeuvre de jeunesse tandis que les Tabaqat auraient plutôt été rédigés à la fin de la vie de l'auteur, cf op. cit., p. 4-5.
187. Cf. Hilya, X, p. 229.
188. Cf. Bagdâdi, XII, p. 222. Une part importante des informations transmises par Bagdadi passe par Sulami.
189. Sa formulation est la suivante : « wa-min-hu intas'ara madhabu l-malâma », cf. TS, p. 123. Abû Nu'aym le qualifie de « sayâ al-malâmatiyyin », et précise qu'il est juriste selon l'école d'al-Tawri, cf. Hilya, X, p. 231.
190. Cf. Kasf, p. 183-4. I1 ne serait pas inutile de s'interroger sur les raisons qui ont conduit Hugwiri à présenter, le premier, le soufisme selon dix « familles », nommées chacune d'après le maître qui a formulé ses particularités doctrinales et cela à la suite d'une liste de notices biographiques de maîtres, habituelle dans les manuels de soufisme. Est-ce dans un seul souci pédagogique envers les étudiants,
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les critères qui permettent de considérer que tel personnage appartient ou non aux Malâmatiyya, et qu'il soit qualifié ainsi dans les sources n'est pas toujours suffisant.
Recourir aux diverses biographies de soufis pour tenter de les recouper ne fera que brouiller notre champ de vision : Abu Hafs, « sayh des Gens du Blâme à Nisâbur » d'après Sulami, « a fait triompher à Nisâbur la Voie du tasawwuf 191 » selon Ibn Mulaqqin. Pour tenter de concilier des affirmations souvent contradictoires, R. Deladrière a proposé, de façon tout à fait convaincante, de considérer qu'il y a en fait trois lignées de malâmatiyya : Les malâmatiyya « purs » sont les disciples de Hamdun al-Qassâr, que Hugwiri appelle les qassâris. Les « fityân-malâmatiyya » sont issus d'Abu Hafs et enfin « les malâmatiyya à tendances soufies » regroupent les disciples d'Abu `Utmân al-Hiri et sont numériquement les plus importants 192.
Chacun de ces trois maîtres avait sa propre méthode pour former et diriger les disciples 193. Dans le passage de la Risâla où il expose ce point, Sulami mentionne « Abû Hafs et ses successeurs » (Abu Hafs wa-ashâbu-hu) et « Hamdûn al-Qassâr et ses successeurs » (Hamdûn al-Qassâr wa-ashâbu-hu), suggérant des filiations spirituelles différenciées. S'il ne mentionne pas de successeurs pour Abu `Utmân, qui est historiquement le plus proche de lui, c'est sans doute qu'â son époque cette lignée était celle dont l'évidence était la plus manifeste, car il était le maître qui avait eu le plus grand nombre de disciples, y compris le propre grand-père de l'auteur.
Établir trois lignées différentes ne doit pas conduire à sous-estimer les liens qui unissent ces hommes, en tout premier lieu les « fondateurs ». Hamdûn se rattache à Abû Hafs 194 et Abû `Utmân a transmis le hadith sous l'autorité de Hamdûn 195, mais a eu également Abû Hafs pour « ustâd 196 ». Sulami se fait
comme il l'affirme ? Est-ce une étape supplémentaire vers la constitution des confréries ? Pour revenir à la malâma, signalons encore que Hugwiri semble faire la différence entre la Voie du Blâme, à laquelle il consacre un chapitre, et les qassâri-s qui représentent une de ces dix familles de soufis.
191. Cf. Mulaqqin, p. 249.
192. Cf. R. DELADRIERE, op. cit., p. 4 ; voir également les noms des principaux représentants des Malâmatiyya des trois premières générations, cf. op. cit., p. 14.
193. Cf. Risâla, p. 103.
194. Cf. TS, p. 116.
195. Cf. Ansâb, IV, p. 508.
196. Selon la formulation de SULAMI, cf. Risâla, p. 116, qui précise dans les Tabaqât qu'il a suivi sa voie (ce qui ne l'empêche pas d'affirmer à la ligne suivante que « à partir de lui, la voie du tasawwuf s 'est répandue à Nisâbûr », cf. Tabagaq, p. 170.) Dans une lettre à Muhammad b. al-Fadl al-Balhi, Abû `Utmân appelle Abu Hafs « saybu-nâ », cf. Risâla, p. 106.
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d'ailleurs l'écho des débats qui se déroulaient entre eux et même des divergences, Abu `Utmân n'hésitant pas à s'opposer à son maître sur certaines questions 197. Abu Hafs reconnaît pourtant l'envergure spirituelle de son disciple, qui était aussi son gendre, affirmant : « Ils ne sont que trois en ce monde, il n'y en a pas un quatrième : Abu `Utmân à Nisâbur, Gunayd à Bagdad et Abu `Abdallah b. Galla' à Damas 198. » Il faut toutefois noter que ni la notice de Hiri dans les Tabaqât ni les sentences citées ne font référence à la malâma. Pas plus que celles de Qusayri ou d'Abu Nu'aym, probablement influencées par Sulami.
Si le voyage à Bagdad d'Abu Hafs représente un événement important à partir duquel, pour reprendre l'expression de R. Deladrière, « le soufisme avait dû se "malâmatiser" [...] et les "psychiques" se "spiritualiser 199" », il faut considérer que cette mutation est, à l'époque d'Abu `Utmân, achevée et que notre auteur, « oubliant » ce qui distinguait et opposait sûfiyya et malâmatiyya, n'utilise plus qu'une dénomination unique. Ce maître paraît avoir synthétisé les diverses modalités de la spiritualité : al-Hakim le qualifie d'ascète 200 et Sulami l'intègre dans la liste des malâmatiyya, tout en le présentant comme le propagateur du soufisme à Nisâbur 201. Plusieurs de ses disciples femmes, recensées dans le Dikr al-niswa, pratiquaient la futuwwa, ce qui laisse penser qu'elle faisait partie de son enseignement 202. Ainsi Abü `Utmân apparaît-il comme la figure majeure
197. Abû Hafs désapprouvait la pérégrination, sauf dans quelques cas bien précis, mais Hamdûn lui opposait une objection, cf. Risâla, p. 94. Abû `Utmân s'opposait à Abû Hafs sur la question de l'exhortation publique, cf. op. cit., p. 110 ; ou sur les pleurs de regret, cf. op. cit., p. 117 ; il est aussi mis en situation de l'interroger sur l'une de ses formulations, cf. op. cit., p. 116. Abû Hafs expulsa une fois Abû `Utmân, alors jeune disciple, lui interdisant de participer à ses réunions, cf. Qu§ayri, p. 32.
198. Cf. Qusayri, p. 33.
199. Cf. R. DELADRIERE, op. cit., p. 5. Décrivant la phase ultime de la « connaissance de l'unité », Gunayd écrit : « Il lui (le serviteur) est alors rendu la vision selon laquelle les choses occupent leur vraie place et sont mises lâ où elles doivent être [...]. » DELADRIERE a attiré l'attention sur cette description, que nous rapportons seulement partiellement, qui correspond à ce qu'écrira Ibn `Arabi de la perfection spirituelle des Hommes du Blâme, cf. Enseignement spirituel, p. 28.
200. Cf. g, XIV, p. 65.
201. Et même dans tout le Hurâsân, d'après HUGWIRÏ, cf. Kasf, p. 134. C. MELCIIERT attribue à Abû `Utmân, synthétisant les enseignements d'Abri Hafs et de Hamdûn, un rôle fondateur pour les malâmatiyya et considère Abû `Ali al-Taqafi comme celui qui, le premier, reçut le double enseignement des malâmatiyya du Hurâsân et des soufis d'Irak, formant à son tour des disciples au Hurâsân, cf. « Sufis and Competing Movements in Nishapur », p. 239-40.
202. Cf. R.E. CORNELL, Early Sufi Women, n° 52, p. 32. N'oublions pas qu'il a été le disciple d'un grand représentant de la futuwwa, Sâh al-Kirmâni (m. avant 300/912-3), lui-même disciple d'Abu Hafs, cf. TS, p. 116 ; sur lui également, cf. TS, p. 192-4.
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de la spiritualité du Hurâsân à la fin du IIIe siècle. Est-ce Sulami qui, le désignant comme le premier maître à répandre le soufisme dans cette province, amplifie ou exagère son rôle en le parant de toute la richesse de sa tradition spirituelle ? Les liens de son grand-père avec ce maître laissent penser que ce dernier jouissait dans la famille d'une dévotion particulière dont Sulami a pu, à son tour, se faire l'écho. Il représente assurément un homme de synthèse qui conjugue les apports respectifs des spiritualités bagdadienne et burâsânienne.

Les principes

L'Épître des Gens du Blâme offre un témoignage capital sur la malâma, car l'ouvrage représente, pour le IVe siècle, notre source quasi exclusive, en tout cas la plus complète sur la question. Sulami y dresse en quarante-cinq points les caractéristiques fondamentales de ceux qu'il place au sommet de la hiérarchie spirituelle, avant les soufis. Ces principes peuvent être regroupés de la manière suivante 203 :
•	Suspicion envers l'âme et refus de toute complaisance : 4, 5, 7, 8, 10, 11, 13, 15, 19, 25, 26, 27, 33, 35, 36, 43.
•	Anonymat et exemplarité, abnégation et service d'autrui : 3, 6, 8, 16, 24, 28, 32,34,41,45.
•	Respect des convenances spirituelles : 2, 9, 11, 21, 29, 37, 40, 41, 42.
•	Dissimulation des états et des oeuvres : 1, 8, 9, 14, 17, 21, 23, 37, 39.
•	Dénuement face à Dieu : 18, 27, 29, 31, 38.
•	Soumission au décret divin : 11, 12, 20.
•	Recherche du blâme d'autrui : 9, 44.
•	Divers (nécessité du maître : 14 ; imitation de l'Envoyé : 18 ; réserver à Dieu le meilleur de soi-même : 14 ; le sama ` : 22 ; gafla effet de la Miséricorde : 30.)
Cette présentation permet de dégager quelques traits essentiels : la suspicion envers l'âme, thème qui regroupe le plus grand nombre de principes, est une préoccupation essentielle. La dissimulation des oeuvres et des états est un autre point majeur. L'abnégation et l'exemplarité sont des valeurs qui trahissent les relations étroites existant entre la malâma et la futuwwa. Enfin, l'importance de l'adab, exigé en toute circonstance et pas seulement pour les oeuvres, est généralement négligée dans la présentation de la malâma.
203. La numérotation est celle de l'édition de `Afifi.
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â l'inverse, la recherche du blâme d'autrui apparaît cantonnée à un rôle secondaire, voire même marginal, alors qu'elle est bien souvent présentée comme une des caractéristiques majeures des Gens du Blâme 204. Il le deviendra effectivement, mais à une époque ultérieure, et pour des formes de la malâma qui, comme dans le cas des qalandariyya, sont très éloignées de l'esprit originel. Mais, pour Sulami du moins, cette exigence ne paraît pas fondamentale.
Il est d'ailleurs possible qu'elle soit apparue en dehors de Nisabûr. En effet, « le maître de son époque à Rayy et dans la région des Gibal	» Yusuf b. al-Husayn al-Râzi (m. 304/917) semble être l'un des premiers maîtres à rechercher la sincérité totale (ihlâs) par la pratique de « la suppression du souci d'honorabilité 205 ». Or, une anecdote rapporte qu'Abu Hafs insista beaucoup pour que son disciple Abu `Utmân aille lui rendre visite à Rayy, où il se faisait passer pour un ivrogne et un homosexuel. Si Abu Hafs dut envoyer son disciple jusqu'â Rayy pour apprendre cette forme de blâme d'autrui, il faut croire qu'il n'y avait à Nisâbûr personne qui pût lui enseigner, du moins sous une forme aussi radicale 206. Le phénomène du sath, paroles extatiques, souvent choquantes, conduit dans bien des cas à un résultat similaire et peut être considéré comme une modalité particulière de la recherche du blâme d'autrui 207.
D'autres éléments qui n'apparaissent pas dans la présentation précédente méritent d'être soulignés :
—	La réticence par rapport au samâ ` et à ses manifestations 208.
—	L'absence de vêtements distinctifs 209.
-- 	L'encouragement à la subha 210.
204. Dans sa présentation de la malâma, HUGWIRI n'aborde pratiquement que ce seul trait, cf. Kasf, 62-9.
205. Cf TS, p. 185 et R. DELADRIÈRE, op. cit., p. 13.
206. Cette anecdote est rapportée par M. MOLE d'après Nûrbakhs, Risâla-i ma `âs -i sâlikin, cf Les Mystiques musulmans, p. 75-6.
207. R. DELADRIERE a également évoqué l'hypothèse que « les apparences déplaisantes » sous lesquelles se dissimulaient les malârnatiyya soient celles des `ayyâran, à l'instar de Dû l-Nun, qualifié de `ayyâr par Hugwiri qui par ailleurs le considérait, tout comme 'Attar, comme un malamati, cf. op. cit., p. 13.
208. Sauf pour ceux qui sont maîtres de leurs états (mutamakkin) et ne risquent donc pas de les dévoiler, cf. Risâla, p. 103-4 et 117.
209. Abû Hafs ne revêtait la muraqqa'a que chez lui, cf Risala, p. 108, voir également l'énoncé du principe p. 113.
210. Voir la définition d'Abu `Utmân et les règles qui définissent son efficacité, cf Risala, p. 119. L'opuscule de SULAMI, Adâb al-subba pourra être rattaché à cette exigence.
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- La méfiance envers les karâmât 211.
- La suspicion envers les oeuvres et les états, toujours entachés de défauts et d'imperfections 212.
- La sobriété 213.
Le peu d' importance attachée à la transmission écrite 214.
Toutefois, une certaine prudence s'impose. Affirmer que tous les malâmatiyya adhéraient à l'ensemble des points recensés précédemment serait assurément sous-estimer la « plasticité » de la malâma. Les questions doctrinales faisaient l'objet de discussion et, nous l'avons signalé, les maîtres, selon leur propre tempérament, adoptaient sur tel ou tel point des positions très personnelles, au moins pour les deux premières générations. Par la suite, il est vrai, nous ne trouvons plus dans les sources l'écho de tels débats.

Les développements doctrinaux ultérieurs

Si le contexte historique a contribué au développement de ce mouvement, ce l u i -ci n'est pourtant fondé que sur la réaffirmation de principes fondamentaux. Dans une période de transition, il répond à un besoin, proposant une voie médiane entre le formalisme des juristes et la complaisance de certains soufis ; car, beaucoup d'auteurs de traités sur le soufisme le soulignent 215, les formes extérieures ont pris le pas sur l'attitude intérieure. Cependant, si cette
211. Les malamatiyya se moquent des prétentions et des karâmât qu'exhibent les disciples des soufis, cf. Risala, p. 88-9, ou s'affligent de voir leurs invocations exaucées, p. 118, voir aussi le principe n° 39, p. 117. Nous verrons que Sulami, en particulier dans ses Tabaqat ne leur accorde que très peu de place.
212. De nombreux passages de la Risala traitent de cette question, voir en particulier n° 15, p. 110 ; n° 20, p. 111 ; n° 35, p. 116. Les plaisirs que procurent les actes d'obéissance sont « un poison mortel », cf. op. cit., n° 10, p. 105. De même que Muhasibi avait, le premier, longuement traité du riyâ', l'ostentation hypocrite, pour lui opposer l’ihlas, la pureté d'intention, de même la contribution particulière des malamatiyya à la critique des vices de l'âme porte sur la ruÿa, considération complaisante de soi-même qui va à l'encontre du sidq, la sincérité absolue ou véridicité, cf. R. DELADRIERE, op. cit., p. 11.
213. Conséquence du refus de toute manifestation extérieure de la spiritualité.
214. Les maîtres n'écrivent pas et leur enseignement est, pour une part importante, transmis sous la tonne de sentences anonymes, cf. Risala, p. 86 et 119. Cette prévention se trouve justifiée postérieurement par Ansâri qui, fustigeant certains soufis, écrit : « [...] leur principal souci est de se remplir le ventre ; et tout ce qu'ils souhaitent est de léguer de sages paroles à la postérité... » Cité par F. MEIER, « Soufisme et déclin culturel », p. 218. Elle se retrouve dans le soufisme postérieur, énoncée sous la forme d'une recommandation indiquant qu'il vaut mieux blanchir son coeur que noircir du papier, ibid., p. 227.
215..E Le fond a disparu, ne reste que la forme » déplore KALABADI, cf. Ta'arruf, p. 25.
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classification hiérarchique, qui fait des malâmatiyya l'élite des spirituels, était purement circonstancielle et devait seulement relever d'un argumentaire qui exprime une concurrence sur le terrain entre divers groupes mystiques cherchant à s'implanter ou à se développer, elle n'aurait pas été reprise plus de deux siècles plus tard, dans des conditions bien évidemment différentes.
Entre-temps, la place qui lui est accordée par les auteurs soufis est variable. Qusayri, pourtant proche disciple de Sulami, réserve dans sa Risâla une section à la futuwwa mais aucune à la malâma. Cette forme est-elle à son époque totalement occultée ? S'est-elle si complètement fondue dans le soufisme qu'elle ne représente plus un trait saillant de la spiritualité ? Hugwiri, nous l'avons signalé, ne retient que la recherche du blâme d'autrui pour qualifier la malâma et en dénonce les formes les plus outrancières 716. Il faut donc supposer que celle-ci a connu une évolution importante et rapide, en forme de déliquescence, du moins en référence à la présentation de Sulami.
Dans les Awârif al-ma `ârif, Sihâb al-Din al-Suhrawardi (m. 632/1234) consacre un court chapitre aux malâmatiyya, suivi d'un autre dans lequel il aborde le cas des qalandariyya 217, pour les distinguer des premiers. Il est vrai qu'â son époque, l'auteur le confirme, persiste au Hurâsân une tradition malâmati perpétuée par des maîtres. Cette voie est également suivie en Irak, bien que cette appellation ne soit pas usitée, cette province ignorant ce terme 218.
La définition proposée est révélatrice des positions de l'auteur :
« Les malâmatiyya se caractérisent particulièrement par leur attachement à une pureté d'intention (ihlas 219). Ils préconisent la dissimulation des états et des oeuvres, et celle-ci leur procure du plaisir tandis que s'ils sont aperçus par qui que ce soit ils en éprouvent une appréhension comparable à celle du pécheur dont les fautes sont exposées au grand jour. Ainsi le malâmati attache une grande importance à ce que la sincérité totale soit mise à sa juste place, et il s'y applique avec zèle 220. »
216. Cf. Kasf, p. 65.
217. Cf. SUHRAWARDÏ, Awârif, p. 77-81.
218. Cf. SUHRAWARDI, op. cit., p. 73.
219. Sur ce mot qui n'a pas d'équivalent exact en français, cf. J.-L. MICHON, Le Soufi marocain, p. 196.
220. Cf. SUHRAWARDI, op. cit., p. 72.
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L'accent est mis sur la sincérité et la dissimulation comme caractéristiques essentielles du malamati. Il n'est pas fait mention de la recherche du blâme ni même de la suspicion envers l'âme, du moins pas directement. Par contre le sufi est supérieur au malâmi et il en explique la raison :
« Le malâmati a chassé toute créature de ses états spirituels et de ses oeuvres, mais il a conforté (l'existence) de son âme, il est donc sincère, tandis que le sufi, ayant chassé son âme et toute chose de ses états et de ses oeuvres, est rendu sincère 221. »
â cela s'ajoute un autre argument, attribué à Gunayd qui fait la distinction entre deux termes, sincérité (sidq) et « pureté d'intention » (ihlâs) : le premier relève des principes fondamentaux tandis que le second n'en est qu'une application dérivée 222. Il faut donc en déduire que les malâmatiyya ne se préoccupent pas de l'essentiel.
La formulation la plus achevée de la malâma ne sera donnée qu'ultérieurement par Ibn `Arabi qui renoue avec les principes exposés par Sulami. Reprenant sa hiérarchie spirituelle, dont le sommet est occupé par « les hommes du blâme », il l'insère dans une typologie détaillée et complète de la sainteté. Il ne sera pas unanimement suivi dans cette classification, et certains continueront à affirmer la supériorité de la perfection du sufi sur le malâmi 223, à l'instar de Suhrawardi. Mais ce dernier fait référence au courant hurâsânien, tandis qu'Ibn `Arabi parle lui des degrés suprêmes de la sainteté.
Le Sayd al-akbar mentionne les malâmiyya 224 en plusieurs passages des Futuhât makkiyya, leur consacrant plus particulièrement deux chapitres : le 309 est intitulé « De la connaissance de la demeure des malâmiyya participant de la présence muhammadienne 225 », et le 23 « De la connaissance des pôles cachés et des secrets de leur protection 226 » les concerne en grande partie. Il est encore
221. Ibid. L'auteur adopte la hiérarchie suivante, dans l'ordre croissant de mérite : mutasawwif, malamati, sûfi Le premier n'est, par rapport au dernier, qu'un aspirant qui n'a pas atteint l'extinction, notamment en divulguant ses états contrairement au malami qui lui est donc supérieur, mais l'âme de celui-ci est encore, par sa présence, un obstacle au fana', cf. op. cit., p. 74.
222. Cf. SUHRAWARDI, op. cit., p. 73.
223. Par exemple, JAMI, cf. La Vie des Soufis, p. 51-2.
224. IBN 'ARABI préfère employer le terme malamiyya grammaticalement plus juste que celui de malamatiyya, cf. Futûhat, II, p. 16.
225. Cf. op. cit., III, p. 34-37.
226. Cf. op. cit., I, p. 180-182.
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question d'eux à propos de la jalousie divine 227 et ils sont également mentionnés dans la partie du chapitre 73 228 qui traite des types et des degrés de sainteté. Les malâmiyya viennent en tête de cette classification et apparaissent encore aux septième et huitième classes avec respectivement les afrâd et les umanâ', qui représentent les degrés supérieurs du type malami 229.
Que nous apprend cet ensemble de textes sur la malâma qui, s'il n'est pas exhaustif, est du moins représentatif des données présentes dans l' oeuvre d' Ibn `Arabi ? Ce ne sont certes pas les quelques noms qui apparaissent qui nous permettent de parler de données historiques. En tête du chapitre 309, Ibn`Arabi indique les noms de ceux qui ont réalisé cette demeure 230 ; pour la période qui nous concerne, il y a trois personnages : dans l'ordre où ils sont cités, Hamdun al-Qasar, Abri Sa` id al- Harrâz et Abri Yazid al-Bistâmi. La présence du second pourra surprendre car il est en général classé parmi les soufis, tandis que celle des deux autres est au contraire plus conforme aux classifications habituelles. Mais Ibn`Arabi ne fait pas ici référence à l'école du Hurâsân. Il définit des catégories spirituelles qui s'affranchissent des limites spatio-temporelles, même si la mention de Hamdûn al-Qassâr indique qu'il ne les ignore pas totalement.
Dans la typologie de la sainteté qui constitue, chez Ibn `Arabi, « une combinatoire d'une richesse inépuisable 231 », le type malâmi pourrait n'être qu'une modalité particulière de réalisation au même titre que les 48 classes ou catégories — tabaqat— qui suivent dans la liste qu'il inaugure. Tel n'est pourtant pas le cas, et force est de reconnaître que les malâmiyya occupent une place â
227. Cf. op. cit., II, p. 501. Cette jalousie comporte trois degrés différents : en Dieu, l'égard de Dieu, venant de Dieu. Deux catégories des malamiyya sont concernées par le deuxième degré : les aLifiya' (les cachés) et les abriyâ' (les purs) qui, tous, sont totalement anonymes, exempts de la moindre marque qui puisse les distinguer de la foule des croyants.
228. La première partie qui traite des catégories de saints correspond à Futuhat, II, p. 2-39. Elle se subdivise en deux sections : l'une aborde les catégories qui comprennent un nombre fixe de saints, l'autre un nombre variable. La seconde partie de ce chapitre est consacrée à répondre aux 155 points du questionnaire de Tirmidi, cf. M. CHODKIEWICZ, Un Océan sans rivage, p. 68 et sq.
229. Suivant l'expression de M. CHODKIEWICZ, les malamatiyya représentent « un type `horizontal' de walaya », qui comporte à son tour des degrés. à propos de ces deux catégories il note : « Après quoi apparaissent deux catégories qui présentent bien des points communs avec les malamiyya, ce qui fait qu'on peut se demander par quoi elles s'en distinguent : les afrad et les umana`. » Cf. M. CHODKIEWICZ, op. cit., p. 70-2.
230. Il débute en indiquant : « C'est la station du Prophète et de Abû Bakr al-Siddiq », cf. Futuhat, III, p. 34. à rapprocher de ce que dit D. GRIL, Les Illuminations, p. 332 et sq. Salman al-Farisi est également indu dans ce groupe dont il est un des plus illustres représentants, cf. op. cit., III, p. 36.
231. Cf. M. CHODKIEWICZ, op. cit., p. 133.
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part dans la typologie akbarienne, car ils représentent la perfection de la sainteté, « l'insurpassable sommet de toute walâya 232 » selon l'expression de M. Chodkiewicz. La définition que donne Ibn `Arabi de ce groupe de spirituel est instructive :
« Ils sont les sages qui mettent toute chose à la place qui lui revient 233. Ils affirment les causes secondes lâ où il convient de le faire et les nient lâ où elles doivent être niées. [...] Ce qu'exige le monde d'ici-bas, ils l'accordent au monde d'ici-bas et ce qu'exige l'autre monde, ils l'accordent à l'autre monde [...]. Leur éminence est ignorée [ici-bas]. Seul les connaît leur Seigneur 234 »
On relèvera le qualificatif qui leur est appliqué : les sages (hukamâ'). La sagesse exige en toute chose une parfaite équité 235 et semble ici indiquer au moins une réserve par rapport aux karâmât 236, position traditionnelle des malâmiyya sur cette question, et auxquels il est fait, semble-t-il, allusion dans la mention des causes secondes. Un autre élément apparaît dans ce texte, le caractère caché ou méconnu de ce groupe, et ce trait est affirmé plus nettement encore dans le passage suivant :
« La troisième catégorie comprend des hommes qui n'ajoutent rien aux cinq prières que les actes de dévotions surérogatoires prescrits (rawitib). Rien qui permette de les reconnaître et les distingue des croyants qui accomplissent les obligations prescrites par Dieu. Ils se déplacent dans les marchés 237et parlent avec les gens sans qu'aucune créature de Dieu puisse observer l'un d'entre eux ajouter quoi que ce soit aux oeuvres prescrites ou aux sunna-s pratiquées par tous 238. »
232. Ce qualificatif s'applique en particulier aux afrad qui comptent en leur sein le Prophète Muhammad, cf. M. CHODKIEWICZ, op. cit., p. 72.
233. Peut-être convient-il de voir dans cette formulation une allusion au « sage de Tirmid » qui exprimait en des termes similaires une des caractéristiques de la sainteté, cf. AL-HAKIM AL-TIRMIDI, Gawâb kitâb min aI-Rayy, in B. RADTKE, Drei schriften des theosophen von Tirmid, p. 178.
234. Cf. op. cit., II, p. 16 ; traduction de M. CHODKIEWICZ, op. cit., p. 70.
235. Celle-ci fait écho à des propos de malâmatiyya, par exemple à la définition qu'Abii Hafs donna à Gunayd de la futuwwa « être équitable sans exiger en retour l'équité », cf. TS, p. 118. Signalons aussi que, parlant des afrâd, il leur applique le qualificatif de fityan : « Ils sont les fityân, les zurafa', les malâmatiyya, les cachés, les purs... », cf. Futûhât, II, p. 201.
236. « On ne connaît d'eux aucun miracle », cité par C. ADDAS, Ibn `Arabi, p. 95.
237. Réminiscence coranique, cf. Cor. (25,7), ces qualificatifs étaient appliqués au Prophète par les incroyants. Ils indiquent évidemment de la part des malamatiyya une stricte conformité au modèle prophétique. En d'autres endroits, Ibn `Arabi utilise la tournure coranique qui est ici légèrement modifiée, cf. M. CHODKIEWICZ, op. cit., p. 138.
238. Cf. Futùhât, III, p. 35.
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Sur cet anonymat, Ibn `Arabi insiste à plusieurs reprises, si bien qu'il semble que ce soit pour lui une des caractéristiques majeures de cette catégorie spirituelle. D'ailleurs quelques lignes plus loin, il en explique la raison métaphysique :
« Ils ont acquis 239 toutes les demeures et vu que Dieu s'était dissimulé en ce monde à la création. Aussi, eux qui sont Ses élus, se sont-ils également dissimulés à la création à cause du voile (dont s'est paré) leur Seigneur. Mais derrière le voile, ils ne contemplent dans la création que Lui. Et quand surviendra l'autre monde et que la Vérité se manifestera avec éclat, ceux-lâ, leur Seigneur paraissant, feront de même. Leur place en ce monde est par essence l'incognito 24a. »
Il faut encore mentionner la jalousie divine pour compléter les fondements de cet anonymat. Les malâmiyya sont ainsi comparés aux femmes du paradis « cloîtrées en des tentes 241 ». Les explications que donne Ibn `Arabi à propos de leur dénomination renforcent également l'importance accordée à la transparence absolue du malâmi :
« Les malâmiyya ne se distinguent en rien des autres créatures de Dieu. Ils sont inconnus, semblables au commun des croyants. Ils se sont désignés sous cette appellation pour deux raisons : on l'applique à leurs disciples car ils blâment sans répit leur âme à cause de Dieu, et, par souci d'éducation, ils ne considèrent pas comme sincère une oeuvre émanant d'elle dont elle se réjouit. On ne peut se réjouir d'une oeuvre qu'après qu'elle ait été acceptée, ce que le disciple ne peut savoir. On l'applique aussi aux plus grands d'entre eux car ils dissimulent leur état et leur place auprès de Dieu 242. »
La différence qui est ici faite entre ce qui semble être d'un côté les maîtres et de l'autre les disciples montre bien quelle est la valeur du blâme pour Ibn `Arabi : méthode d'élévation spirituelle, elle est une voie que suit le disciple,
239. Le texte arabe indique hâza, mais peut être faut-il lire gâza : ils ont traversé.
240. Cf. ibid.
241. Référence à Cor. (55, 72) ; Ibn `Arabi précise que ce verset correspond aux ma!amiyya, et poursuit ainsi la comparaison : « Il a emprisonné leur apparence extérieure dans les tentes des habitudes et des actes de dévotion (`ibâdât) », cf. op. cit., I, p. 181. Ils sont aussi appelés « les fiancées », cf. M. CHODKIEWICZ, op. cit., p. 117, qui indique que « Dieu lui-même [les] cache dans le Coran sous l'apparence de ses ennemis », ibid. et voir aussi p. 72-3.
242. Cf. Futuhât, III, p. 35.
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mais, parvenu à son terme, celle-ci a perdu son utilité et devient un voile qui recouvre le haut degré de spiritualité atteint, voile nécessaire car « si les gens découvraient la place qu'occupe ce groupe auprès de Dieu, ils le prendraient pour divinité 243 ». L'anonymat absolu est ainsi requis à cause de la primauté spirituelle qui est attachée à cette station 244.
Ce long développement sur les fonctions et les caractéristiques des malâmatiyya dans l'oeuvre d'Ibn `Arabi rend compte de la profonde affinité qui lie les deux hommes au plan de la doctrine. Une lecture attentive des textes de Sulami démontre qu'il avait esquissé certaines formulations qui trouveront avec Ibn `Arabi la plénitude de leur élaboration. Les points essentiels, la question de l'adab, l'anonymat du serviteur, la dissimulation nécessaire des états et des oeuvres, avaient déjâ été recueillis par Sulami dans sa Risâla. Aucun autre texte, ni avant Sulami ni même après, n'avait apporté autant d'éléments sur un point qui occupe une place essentielle dans la doctrine du Sayh al-akbar.
Les idées et les principes qui avaient probablement vu le jour à Nisâbûr et dans le Hurâsân se sont très largement diffusés dans le soufisme et ont contribué à équilibrer certaines tendances de la spiritualité bagdadienne. Les particularités spirituelles de chaque grande zone géographique de la partie orientale de l'Empire, Syrie, Irak et Hurâsân, se sont estompées, les apports respectifs fusionnant en un ensemble unique désormais dénommé soufisme 245. Sulami nous permet de retrouver quelques traits distinctifs de ce courant nisâbûrien qui inspira certaines confréries, parmi les plus importantes 246.
243. Ibid.
244. Cette précellence spirituelle est affirmée sous des formulations diverses, dont certaines ne sont pas facilement pénétrables, par exemple : « Toute la Loi divine coïncide (ou représente) les états des malâmiyya », cf. op. cit., III, p. 36. Dans un autre domaine, l'attitude face au miracle, il déclare à leur propos : « ...ils sont les détenteurs du vrai savoir en ce domaine ». Ibid.
245. Les raisons de l'absorption du malamatisme par le soufisme sont complexes. J. CHABBI y voit « [...] une coalition dont le dénominateur commun serait l'Antikarramisme», cf. op. cit., p. 66. Dans le même esprit, C. MELCHERT invoque des raisons politiques, le fait que les karramites bénéficiaient du soutien du pouvoir ghaznévide, cf. op. cit., p. 243. Nous tenterons de voir quels éléments de réponse apporte l'oeuvre de Sulami.
246. M. MOLE a relevé les traits communs, et ils sont nombreux, entre les malamatiyya et les premiers naqsbandiyya, cf. « Autour du Daré Mansour : l'apprentissage mystique de Bahâ al-Din Naqshband », p. 52-9. H. ALGAR a repris cette comparaison, cf. op. cit., p. 29-36. Une étude similaire reste à faire pour la Sâdiliyya afin de mettre en évidence les éléments d'inspiration malami-s.

Sufis et Malamatis ( J.S. Trimingham)

Extrait de THE SUFI ORDERS IN ISLAM BY J. SPENCER TRIMINGHAM, OXFORD, 1971

Diagramme (p. 30) photo
Extrait du diagramme suivant la page 30 présentant l’ensemble des branches sufies / malamaties

Sufi

Malamati

Junaidi

Bistami

Iraquian Tradition

Khurasanian Tradition

Abu'l-Qasim al-Gurgâni   (d. 469/1076)

Abu'l-Hasan'Ali al-Kharaqani (d. 425/1034)

Abu Bakr an-Nassaj          (d. 487/1094)

Abu 'Ali al-Fârmadhi        (d. 477/1084)

'Abdallah al-Ansâri al-Harawi (d. 481/1089)

Ahmad al-Ghazali             (d. 520/1126)

Abu Hamid al-Ghazali      (d. 505/1111) : no issue

Yûsuf ibn Ayyûb al-Hamadani (d. 535/1140)

BRANCHES SUFIES

BR. SUFIES  MALAMATIES

                            ---

Ahmad al-Yasavi
(d. 562/1169) 
Yasaviyya

'Abd al-Khaliq
al-Ghujdawani
d. 617/1220
Khawâjagâniyya

  ---/---/---/---/---/

Bahâ'ad-din an Naqshabandi
d. A.D. 1389

NAQSHABANDIYYA

Diagramme (p. 93) photo
Diagramme de la page 93 

Baha’ad-din an-Naqshabandi 
d.AD 1389

`Alâ ad-din al-'Attar d. 802/1400			

`Ali b. Mhd al-Jurjani d. 816/1413

Ya`gtlb Jarkhi/Charkhi d. 851/1447

Sultan ad-din Sa`d (Satid) ad-din M.
al-Kashgari d. A.D. 1455  
         - - - - - - - -  - -  - - -  - -  - -  - -  -       
     

`Abd ar-Rahman Jami A.D. 1414-92

          - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 

Nasir ad-din `Ubaidallah al-Ahrar
ihn Mahmad ash-Shashi [Tashkand] 
`Hadrat Ishan' A.D. 1404-1490

CENTRAL ASIAN

`Arif bi'llah `Abdallah
Alahi of Simaw
d. A.D. 1490

Muhammad az-Zâihid

Sa `id Ahmad al- Bukhari Takiyasi 
(d. Istanbul)

Darwish Muhammad

WESTERN (Turkey)

Ahmad al-Amkangi

M. Baqi bi'llah A.D. 1563-1603

INDIAN

Taj ad-din ibn Zakariya d. Mecca 1050/1640 note 125

Ahmad I Fârûqi Sirhindi d. A.D. 1625

Nombreuses branches

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(d) Khawâjagan-Nagshabandiyya

Naqshabandi tradition does not regard Bala' ad-din an-Naqshabandi as the founder of the tariqa which bears his name and the lines of ascription (silsilat at-tarbiya) do not begin with him. Fakhr ad-din `Ali b. Husain, who wrote a history of the tariqa called Rashahat `Ain al-Hayat, begins it with Abü Ya`qüb Yüsuf al-Hamadâni (d. A.D. 1140) whilst his khalifa (by spiritual appointment), 'Abd al-Khâliq al-Ghujdawâni (d. A.D. 1220), may be regarded as the organizer of its special tendencies. He is responsible for the stress placed upon the purely mental dhikr, and he also formulated the eight rules which governed Tariqat al-Khawajagan, the name by which the silsila was known. 'Abd al-Khâliq was taught the tariqa's special form of habs-i dam,
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or `restraint of the breath', by al-Khadir, the spirit of Islamic gnosis. The succession from him is as follows:
`Arif Riwgari, d. 657/1259
Mahmüd Anjir Faghnawi, d. 643/1245 (or 670/1272)
`Azizân `Ali ar-Râmitani, d. 705/1306 (or 721/1321)
Muhammad Baba as-Sammâsi, d. 740/1340 (or 755/1354)
Amir Sayyid Kulali al-Bukhâri, d. 772/1371
Muhammad ibn M. Bahâ' ad-din an-Naqshabandi, 717/1318 - 791/1389.
Bahâ' ad-din, who was a Tajik, served his apprenticeship under both as-Sammâsi and Kulali (`the Potter'). But he also had Turkish links and there is a romantic story of his encounter with a Turkish dervish called Khalil whom he had first seen in a dream, and his subsequent association with him until this dervish eventually (A.D. 1340) became Sultan Khalil of Transoxiana [en note : Ibn Battüia describes the rise to power of Khalil (-A115h Qazan), French edn., 1877, iii. 48-51]. Bahâ.' ad-din served him for six years, but after Khalil's fall (747/1347) Bahâ' experienced a revulsion against worldly success, returned to his Bukharan village of Rewartün, and resumed his interrupted spiritual career. Like most of the men after whom tariqas have been named, Bahâ' ad-din did not found an organization (whilst his tariqa he had inherited), but gathered around himself like-minded devotees prepared to strive towards a quality of mystical life along Malâmati lines without show or distracting rites, for, as he said, 'the exterior is for the world, the interior for God' (az-zahir li 'l-khalq al-bâtin li 'l-Haqq). Though modified through the corruptions of time this Way never lost the stamp of 'Abd al-Khâliq's genius in the quality of its leadership and teaching and the purity of its ritual. From the Islamic point of view it was especially important in ensuring the attachment of Turkish peoples to the Sunni tradition. Bahâ.' ad-din's mausoleum and the attached convent (a magnificent structure was erected in A.D. 1544 by Amir 'Abd al-`Aziz Khan) became one of the most 
64
important place of pilgrimage in central Asia. The great Persian mystical poet Jami derives from Baha’ad-din through an intermediary. Outside central Asia, the order spead into Anatolia and the Caucasus, among mountain people in Kurdistan (wher it became a factor of Kusdish nationalism), and southward  into India, but never became popular in the Arab world.

APPENDIX B Sûfis, Malâmatis, and Qalandaris

THE distinction between sûfi and darwish (or faqir) is the difference between theory and practice. The sûfi follows a mystical theory or doctrine, the darwish practises the mystical Way. Of course, one is a darwish and a sûfi at the same time and there is no essential distinction in theory. The sûfi is a darwish and the darwish is a sûfi since neither can be in isolation from the other, but in practice there is a disproportion of emphasis, some sufis being predominantly intellect or creative imagination, like Ibn al-`Arabi, and others mainly dervishes, all feeling, emotion, and action. In both instances we find sûfis and dervishes dispensing with a guide and relying solely upon themselves (though frequently allowing for a spiritual guide), passively or actively, to achieve the annihilation of self and direct absorption into divine Reality, one by intellectual exercises, the other by psycho-physical practices. Ibn `Abbâd of Ronda (1333-90) belonged to the Shâdhili tradition, but in a letter to Abu Ishâq ash-Shâtibi, who had sought an opinion as to whether a shaikh was indispensable, he wrote that he himself was more guided in his spiritual path by sûfi writings than by shaikhs. Most of these men who dispense with a this-world guide acknowledge a spiritual guide.
Also involved is the distinction between the sûfi and the malamati. This question has been somewhat confused. Abu `Abd ar-Rabman as-Sulami (d. 412/1021) regarded the malamatis (blameworthy ones) as the highest grade of God's slaves, above both the legalists (fuqaha' class) and the theosophists, Ahl al-ma`rifa. Now these latter, the second category, the khawas, he 
265
calls the Süfiyya; but these are the `elect' or `privileged' rather than simple sûfis, those upon whom God has bestowed special knowledge of Himself, who can perform karamat and penetrate hidden mysteries. The Malâmatis are sûfis: `Among their principles is disciplined guidance under a sûfi leader (imam min a'immat al-qawm) to whom recourse should be had in all matters pertaining to mystical knowledge and experiences.»
Although the Nubian, Dhu 'n-Nun, and the Mervian, Bishr ibn al-Hârith (d. 277/841), tend to be looked upon as originators of the malamati tendency, its true origins are to be sought in Nishapur./2 126 It is not to be regarded as distinct from tasawwuf, but simply as the Nishapuri school of mysticism. As-Sulami includes among malamatis: Sahl at-Tustari, Yahyâ ibn Ma`âdh ar-Râzi, and above all Abu Yazid al-Bistami, to whom is ascribed the formulation of the specific doctrines of the school.
The sûfi is concerned with tawakkul (`trust'; Qur’ ân, LXV. 3) and that to him involves inkar al-kasb (severing the bonds of acquisition and personal action), with training, guidance, and even subjection to his shaikh, affirmed with oath and investment with a khirqa, regulated exercises (dhikr) and sama'. All these the malamati rejects, at least theoretically. At the foundation of the malamati tendency is the absolute nothingness of man before God. Contrary to the sûfi, the true malamati conceals his progress in the spiritual life. He aspires to free himself from the world and its passions whilst living in the world. Shihâb ad-din as-Suhrawardi writes: `It has been said that the malamati is one who neither makes a show of doing good or harbours thoughts of evil.' He explained this as follows: 'The malamati is one whose veins are saturated with the nourishment of pure virtue, who is really sincere, who does not want anyone to be acquainted with his ecstatic states and experiences.' 
The malamati is ready to be
/2 Sulami specifies the three founding fathers of the movement, all Nishapüris, as: Abu Haft `Amr ibn Salma al-Haddad (d. 270/883), Hamdun al-Qassâr (d. 271/884), and Said ibn Isma'il al-Hairi, known as al-Wâ'iz (d. 298/ 910); op. cit., pp. 88, 90. Al-Hujwiri has a whole chapter in his Kashf on malama.
266	
despised by men that he may lose himself in God. Whereas the sufi lives `ala 't-tawakkul, relying upon God to provide for him, the malâmati works for his living (`lawful' food for him is earned food), absorbed in God whilst engaged in the affairs of the world. He does not parade his inward way, nor indulge in public dhikr gatherings. Confusion has been caused by the fact that many mystical writers tend to regard malâmatis as quietists (mutawak-kilûn) among the sufis, even as people who lack the will and discipline necessary to struggle along the mystical Path, whereas it is the sûfis who are mutawakkilûn; and they also confuse him with the qalandari. How wrong they are is soon demonstrated.
The malâmati rejects all outward show, all salât and tarâwih, the latter especially since it is only too often a form of piety intended to be seen of men. Contrary to what is generally supposed the malâmati performs duties that are farâ'id, like ritual salât, even though he rejects them, to avoid attracting attention to himself. Similarly he does not wear the special dress which characterizes the sûfi. He has no initiating shaikh in the later sûfi sense of submission though he is ready to seek guidance. As-Suhrawardi writes: `There is at the present time in Khurasan an association (ta'ifa) of malâmatis possessing shaikhs who ground them in the fundamentals and keep themselves informed of their spiritual progress. We have ourselves seen in Iraq those who follow this course [of incurring censure] but are not known under this name, for the term is little current on the tongues of the people of Iraq. The malâmati professes no speculative mysticism about the unicity of being, but is concerned with the elimination of self-'consciousness. Of the later orders the Naqshabandiyya is especially associated with the malâmati tradition within tasawwuf. Naqshabandis practise the personal recollection (dhikr khafi), the strict have no public dhikrs, and we may recall their injunction about `solitude in a crowd'.
Whereas as-Sulami, and even, though with reservations, a characteristic sufi guide like as-Suhrawardi, can look reasonably
267
at malâmatis, or at least at their theory, since it is simply a particular sufi tendency, they regard the qalandaris as reprehensible. Theoretically there is not really all that difference. The danger of Malâmism is the possibility of its becoming antisocial. The rude and unlettered wandering dervishes and bâbas of the Turkish movements were such qalandari types; then, as Ways were formed, latent antinomian tendencies were accentuated.
The distinction between the malâmati and the qalandari is that the former hides his devotion and the latter externalizes and even exploits it, going out of his way to incur blame. Confusion has been caused because of the derivation of the name malâma (blame). The term qalandari, to which the Arabian Nights has given wide currency, covers in its historical usage a wide range of dervish types. It was loosely applied in the East (it was unknown in western Islam) to any wandering faqir, but it was also adopted by certain groups and even distinctive orders were formed, hence the problems of defining the term. To begin with the time of the formation of silsilas, Shihâb ad-din as-Suhrawardi writes:
The term qalandariyya is applied to people so possessed by the intoxication of `tranquility of heart' that they respect no custom or usage and reject the regular observances of society and mutual relationship. Traversing the arenas of `tranquility of heart' they concern themselves little with ritual prayer and fasting except such as are obligatory (farâ'id). Neither do they concern themselves with those earthly pleasures which are allowed by the indulgence of divine law.... The difference between the qalandari and the malâmati is that the malâmati strives to conceal his mode of life whilst the qalandari seeks to destroy accepted custom.'
Magrizi records that about 610/1213 qalandaris first made their appearance in Damascus. According to Najm ad-din M. ibn Isrâ'il of the Rifâ`iyya—Haririyya (d. 1278), their introduction took place in 616/1219, the introducer being Muhammad ibn Yûnus as-Sâwaji (d. 630/1232), a refugee from Sâwa (destroyed by the Mongols in 617/1220): `When, under the reign of al-Ashraf, al-Harïri was condemned, they also disapproved of the qalandaris and exiled them to the castle of Husainiyya.' The Qalandariyya was reintroduced with the Haidari group, a zâwiya being built in 655/1257. A pupil of Muhammad ibn Yûnus
268	
known as Khidr Rûmi is credited with the introduction of the tendency into north-west India in the time of Îltutmish which developed into a definite line of ascription as a qalandari order.' A Persian faqir called Hasan al-Jawaliqi came to Egypt in the time of al-Malik al-`âdil Ketbogha (1294-6) and founded a zâwiya of qalandaris, then went to Damascus, where he died in 722/1322. Maqrizi remarks that they were quietists seeking inward peace, but their means of attaining this involved discarding normal social restraints.
Qalandari characteristics included the wearing of a distinctive garment, the shaving of the head and facial hair with the exception of the moustache, the perforation of hands and ears for the insertion of iron rings as symbol of penitence, as well as tathqib al-ihlil as sign of chastity, all of which are forbidden.
The position was different in the time of Jami (d. 1521). This Sufi poet, after quoting the passage from Shihâb ad-din, goes on, 'With regard to the kind of men whom we call qalandari today, who have pulled from their necks the bridle of Islam, these qualities of which we have just spoken are foreign to them, and one should rather name them hashawiyya.' Both Suhrawardi and Jami point out that those in their time who took the dress of qalandaris in order to indulge in debaucheries are not to be confused with true qalandaris.
The Turkish qalandaris eventually became a distinctive order. One group claimed to derive from a Spanish Arab immigrant called Yüsuf al-Andalusi. Expelled from the Bektâshi order because of his arrogant nature, he tried in vain to enter that of the Mawlawis, and ended by forming a distinct order under the name of Qalandar. He imposed upon his dervishes the obligation of perpetual travel, yet in the reign of Muhammad II (1451--81)
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a qalandari convent with mosque and madrasa made its appearance in Istanbul. Evliya Chelebi refers to an Indian qalandari convent at Kaghid-Khanah (suburb of Scutari) whose faqirs Sultan Muhammad used to provide with dinners. There was a qalandari order in Aleppo at the beginning of the present century. Mujir ad-din describes a qalandari zâwiya in Jerusalem in the middle of Mamilla cemetery. Formerly a church called ad-Dair al-Ahmar, it was taken over by one Ibrahim al-Qalandari as a zâwiya for his fugarâ, but the zâwiya fell into ruins shortly before 893/1488.

The path of Blame – Bistami followers (Hujwiri)

Extrait :

THE KASHF AL-MAHJûB THE OLDEST PERSIAN TREATISE ON SUFIISM d’AL-HUJWIRI TRANSLATED BY REYNOLD A. NICHOLSON, LUZAC AND COMPANY LTD. LONDON, 1976.
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CHAPTER VI. ON BLAME (Malâmat).
The path of Blame has been trodden by some of the Sûfi Shaykhs. Blame has a great effect in making love sincere. The followers of the Truth (ahl-i haqq) are distinguished by their being the objects of vulgar blame, especially the eminent ones of this community. The Apostle, who is the exemplar and leader of the adherents of the Truth, and who marches at the head of the lovers (of God), was honoured and held in good repute by all until the evidence of the Truth was revealed to him and inspiration came upon him. Then the people loosed their tongues to blame him. Some said, " He is a soothsayer ; " others, " He is a poet ; " others, " He is a madman ; " others, " He is a liar; " and so forth. And God says, describing the true believers : "" (Kor. v, 59). Such is the ordinance of God They fear not the blame of anyone; that is the grace of God which He bestows on whomsoever He pleases ; God is bounteous and wise, that He causes those who discourse of Him to be blamed by the whole world, but preserves their hearts from being preoccupied by the world's blame. This He does in His jealousy : He guards His lovers from glancing aside to " other " (gayr), lest the eye of any stranger should behold the beauty of their state ; and He guards them also from seeing themselves, lest they should regard their own beauty and fall into self-conceit and arrogance. Therefore He hath set the vulgar over them to loose the tongues of blame against them, and hath made the "blaming soul" (nafs-i lawwdma) part of their composition, in order that they may be blamed by others for whatever they do, and by themselves for doing evil or for doing good imperfectly.
Now this is a firm principle in the Way to God, for in this Path there is no taint or veil more difficult to remove than self-conceit. God in His kindness bath barred the way of error against His friends. Their actions, however good, are not approved by the vulgar, who do not see them as they really are; and they themselves do not regard their works of mortification, however numerous, as proceeding from their own strength and power : consequently they are not pleased with themselves and are protected from self-conceit. Whoever is approved by God is disapproved by the vulgar, and whoever is elected by himself is not among the elect of God. Thus Iblis was approved by mankind and accepted by the angels, and he was pleased with himself ; but since God was not pleased with him, their approval only brought a curse upon him. Adam, on the other hand, was disapproved by the angels, who said : " Wilt Thou place there [on the earth] one who will do evil therein ? " (Kor. ii, 28), and was not pleased with himself, for he said : " O Lord, we have done ourselves a wrong" (Kor. vii, 22) ; but since God was pleased with him, the disapproval of the angels and his own displeasure bore the fruit of mercy. Let all men, therefore, know that those accepted by us are rejected by the people, and that those accepted by the people are rejected by us. Hence the blame of mankind is the food of the friends of God, because it is a token of Divine approval ; it is the delight of the saints of God, because it is a sign of nearness to Him :. they rejoice in it even as other men rejoice in popularity. There is a Tradition, which the Apostle received from Gabriel, that God said : " My friends (saints) are under My cloak : save Me, none knoweth them except My friends."
SECTION.
Now blame (maldmat) is of three kinds : it may result (1) from following the right way (maldmat-i rdst raftan), or (2) from an intentional act (maldmat-i qasd kardan), or (3) from abandonment of the law (maldmat-i tark kardan). In the first case, a man is blamed who minds his own business and performs his religious duties and does not omit any practice of
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devotion : he is entirely indifferent to the behaviour of the people towards him. In the second case a man is greatly honoured by the people and pointed out among them : his heart inclines to the honour in which he is held, and becomes attached to those by whom it is bestowed : he wishes to make himself independent of them and devote himself wholly to God ; therefore he purposely incurs their blame by committing some act which is offensive to them but which is no violation of the law : in consequence of his behaviour they wash their hands of him. In the third case, a man is driven by his natural infidelity and erroneous beliefs to abandon the sacred law and abjure its observances, and say to himself, " I am treading the path of blame : " in this case his behaviour depends on himself alone.
He who follows the right way and refuses to act hypocritically, and refrains from ostentation, pays no heed to the blame of the vulgar, but invariably takes his own course : it is all one to him what name they call him by. I find among the anecdotes (of holy men) that one day Shaykh Abû Tâhir Harami was seen in the bazaar, riding a donkey and attended by one of his disciples. Some person cried out, " Here comes that old freethinker!" The indignant disciple rushed at the speaker, trying to strike him, and the whole bazaar was filled with tumult. The Shaykh said to his disciple : " If you will be quiet, I will show you something that will save you from trouble of this sort." When they returned home, he bade the disciple bring a certain box, which contained letters, and told him to look at them. "Observe," he said, " how the writers address me. One calls me ` the Shaykh of Islam', another 'the pure Shaykh', another the ascetic Shaykh', another the Shaykh of the two Sanctuaries', and so on. They are all titles, there is no mention of my name. I am none of these things, but every person gives me the title which accords with his belief concerning me. If that poor fellow did the same just now, why should you quarrel with him ? "
He who incurs blame purposely and resigns honour and
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withdraws from authority is like the Caliph `Uthmân who, although he possessed four hundred slaves, one day came forth from his plantation of date-palms carrying a bundle of firewood on his head. On being asked why he did this, he answered : " I wish to make trial of myself." He would not let the dignity which he enjoyed hinder him from any work. A similar tale related of the Imâm Abû Hanifa will be found in this treatise. And a story is told about Abû Yazid, that, when he was entering Rayy on his way from the Hijâz, the people of that city ran to meet him in order that they might show him honour. Their attentions distracted him and turned his thoughts away from God. When he came to the bazaar, he took a loaf from his sleeve and began to eat. They all departed, for it was the month of Ramadân. He said to a disciple who was travelling with him: "You see! as soon as I perform a single article of the law,/1 they all reject me." In those days it was necessary, for incurring blame, to do something disapproved or extraordinary ; but in our time, if anyone desires blame, he need only lengthen a little his voluntary prayers or fulfil the religious practices which are prescribed : at once everybody will call him a hypocrite and impostor.
He who abandons the law and commits an irreligious act, and says that he is following the rule of " blame ", is guilty of manifest wrong and wickedness and self-indulgence. There are many in the present age who seek popularity by this means, forgetting that one must already have gained popularity before deliberately acting in such a way as to make the people reject him ; otherwise, his making himself unpopular is a mere pretext for winning popularity. On a certain occasion I was in the company of one of these vain pretenders. He committed a wicked act and excused himself by saying that he did it for the sake of blame. One of the party said, " That is nonsense." He heaved a sigh. I said to him : " If you claim to be a Malâmati and are firm in your belief, this gentleman's
/1 Ahû Yazíd, being at that time on a journey, was not legally bound to observe the fast.
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disapproval of what you have done ought to encourage you to persevere; and since he is seconding you in your chosen course, why are you so unfriendly and angry with him ? Your behaviour is more like pretence than pursuit of blame. Whoever claims to be guided by the Truth must give some proof of his assertion, and the proof consists in observing the Sunna (Ordinances of the Prophet). You make this claim, and yet I see that you have failed to perform an obligatory religious duty. Your conduct puts you outside the pale of Islam."
SECTION.
The doctrine of Blame was spread abroad in this sect by the Shaykh of his age, Hamdûn Qassâr.' He has many fine sayings on the subject. It is recorded that he said: Al-malamat tark al-saldmat, " Blame is the abandonment of welfare." If anyone purposely abandons his own welfare and girds himself to endure misfortune, and renounces his pleasures and familiar ties, in hope that the glory of God will be revealed to him, the more he is separated from mankind the more he is united to God. Accordingly, the votaries of Blame turn their backs on that thing, namely welfare (salamat), to which the people of this world turn their faces, for the aspirations of the former are Unitarian (wahdani). Ahmad b. Fâtik relates that Husayn b. Mansûr, in reply to the question " Who is the Stiff ? " said : " He who is single in essence" (wahdani al-dhât). Hamdûn also said concerning Blame : " It is a hard way for the vulgar to follow, but I will tell one part thereof : the Malâmatí is characterized by the hope of the Murjites and the fear of the Qadarites." This saying has a hidden meaning which demands explanation. It is the nature of man to be deterred by popularity more than any other thing from seeking access to God. Consequently he who fears this danger is always striving to avoid it, and there arc two perils which confront him : firstly, the fear that he may be veiled from God by the favour of his fellow-creatures ; and secondly, the fear of committing some act for which the people will blame him and thereby fall into sin. Accordingly, the Malâmatí must, in the first instance, take care to have no quarrel with the people for what they say of him, either in this world or the next, and for the sake of his own salvation he must commit some act which, legally, is neither a great sin (kabira) nor a trivial offence (saghira), in order that the people may reject him. Hence his fear in matters of conduct is like the fear of the Qadarites, and his hope in dealing with those who blame him is like the hope of the Murjites. In true love there is nothing sweeter than blame, because blame of the Beloved makes no impression on the lover's heart : he heeds not what strangers say, for his heart is ever faithful to the object of his love.
"'Tis sweet to be reviled for passion's sake."
This sect (the Stiffs) are distinguished above all creatures in the universe by choosing to be blamed in the body on account of the welfare of their souls ; and this high degree is not attained by the Cherubim or any spiritual beings, nor has it been reached by the ascetics, devotees, and seekers of God belonging to the nations of antiquity, but it is reserved for those of this nation who journey on the path of entire severance from the things of the world.
In my opinion, to seek Blame is mere ostentation, and ostentation is mere hypocrisy. The ostentatious man purposely acts in such a way as to win popularity, while the Malâmatí purposely acts in such a way that the people reject him. Both have their thoughts fixed on mankind and do not pass beyond that sphere. The dervish, on the contrary, never even thinks of mankind, end when his heart has been broken away from them he is as indifferent to their reprobation as to their favour : he moves unfettered and free. I once said to a Malâmatí of Transoxania, with whom I had associated long enough to feel at my ease : "O brother, what is your object in these perverse actions?" He replied : " To make the people non-existent in regard to myself." " The
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people," I said, "are many, and during a lifetime you will not be able to make them non-existent in regard to yourself ; rather make yourself non-existent in regard to the people, so that you may be saved from all this trouble. Some who are occupied with the people imagine that the people are occupied with them. If you wish no one to see you, do not see yourself. Since all your evils arise from seeing yourself, what business have you with others ? If a sick man whose remedy lies in abstinence seeks to indulge his appetite, he is a fool." Others, again, practise the method of Blame from an ascetic motive : they wish to be despised by the people in order that they may mortify themselves, and it is their greatest delight to find themselves wretched and abased. Ibrâhím b. Adham was asked, " Have you ever attained your desire?" He answered : " Yes, twice ; on one occasion I was in a ship where nobody knew me. I was clad in common clothes and my hair was long, and my guise was such that all the people in the ship mocked and laughed at me. Among them was a buffoon, who was always coming and pulling my hair and- tearing it out, and treating me with contumely after the manner of his kind. At that time I felt entirely satisfied, and I rejoiced in my garb. My joy reached its highest pitch one day when the buffoon rose from his plate and super me nzinxit. On the second occasion I arrived at a village in heavy rain, which had soaked the patched frock on my body, and I was overcome by the wintry cold. I went to a mosque, but was refused admittance. The same thing happened at three other mosques where I sought shelter. In despair, as  the cold strengthened its grip on my heart, I entered a bath-house and drew my skirt close up to the stove. The smoke enveloped me and blackened my clothes and my face. Then also I felt entirely satisfied."						
Once I, `Ali b. `Uthmân al-Jullâbf, found myself in a difficulty. After many devotional exercises undertaken in the hope of clearing it away, I repaired—as I had done with success on a former occasion—to the tomb of Abû Yazíd, and stayed
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beside it for a space of three months, performing every day three ablutions and thirty purifications in the hope that my difficulty might be removed. It was not, however; so I departed and journeyed towards Khurâsân. One night I arrived at a village in that country where there was a convent (kluínagdh) inhabited by a number of aspirants to Sûfiism. I was wearing a dark-blue frock (muraqqa`-i khishan), such as is prescribed by the Sunna ;/1 but I had with me nothing of the Sûfi's regular equipment (dlat-i ahl-i rasm) except a staff and a leathern water-bottle (rakwa). I appeared very contemptible in the eyes of these Sûfís, who did not know me. They regarded only my external habit and said to one another, " This fellow is not one of us." And so in truth it was : I was not one of them, but I had to pass the night in that place. They lodged me on a roof, while they themselves went up to a roof above mine, and set before me dry bread which had turned green, while I was drawing into my nostrils the savour of the viands with which they regaled themselves. All the time they were addressing derisive remarks to me from the roof. When they finished the food, they began to pelt me with the skins of the melons which they had eaten, by way of showing how pleased they were with themselves and how lightly they thought of me. I said in my heart : "O Lord God, were it not that they are wearing the dress of Thy friends, I would not have borne this from them." And the more they scoffed at me the more glad became my heart, so that the endurance of this burden was the means of delivering me from that difficulty which I have mentioned ; and forthwith I perceived why the Shaykhs have always given fools leave to associate with them and for what reason they submit to their annoyance.	
/1 I. adds in margin " for travellers ".															-	

The followers of Bistami

3. THE TAYFûRÍS.

They are the followers of Abû Yazíd Tayfûr b. Isâ b. Surûshân al-Bistâmí, a great and eminent Sûfí. His doctrine is rapture (ghalabat) and intoxication (sukr). Rapturous longing for God and intoxication of love cannot be acquired by human beings, and it is idle to claim, and absurd to imitate, anything that lies beyond the range of acquisition. Intoxication is not an attribute of the sober, and Man has no power of drawing it to himself. The intoxicated man is enraptured and pays no heed to created things, that he should manifest any quality involving conscious effort (taklif ). The Sûfí Shaykhs are agreed that no one is a proper model for others unless he is steadfast (mustaqim) and has escaped from the circle of " states " ; but there are some who allow that the way of rapture and intoxication may be trodden with effort, because the Apostle said : " Weep, or else make as though ye wept ! " Now, to imitate others for the sake of ostentation is sheer polytheism, but it is different when the object of the imitator is that God may perchance raise him to the rank of those whom he has imitated, in accordance with the saying of the Apostle : " Whoever makes himself like unto a people is one of them." And one of the Shaykhs said : " Contemplations (mushdhadât) are the result of mortifications (mujahadat)." My own view is that, although mortifications are always excellent, intoxication and rapture cannot be acquired at all ; hence they cannot be induced by mortifications, which in themselves never become a cause of intoxication.
I will now set forth the different opinions of the Shaykhs concerning the true nature of intoxication (sukr) and sobriety (sahw), in order that difficulties may be removed.
Discourse on Intoxication and Sobriety.
You must know that "intoxication " and " rapture " are terms used by spiritualists to denote the rapture of love for God, while 	
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the term " sobriety " expresses the attainment of that which is desired. Some place the former above the latter, and some hold the latter to be superior. Abû Yazíd and his followers prefer intoxication to sobriety. They say that sobriety involves the fixity and equilibrium of human attributes, which are the greatest veil between God and Man, whereas intoxication involves the destruction of human attributes, like foresight and choice, and the annihilation of a man's self-control in God, so that only those faculties survive in him that do not belong to the human genus ; and they are the most complete and perfect. Thus David was in the state of sobriety ; an act proceeded from him which God attributed to him and said, " David killed Goliath" (Kor. ii, 252) : but our Apostle was in the state of intoxication ; an act proceeded from him which God attributed to Himself and said, "Thou didst not throw, when thou threwest, but God threw" (Kor. viii, 17). How great is the difference between these two men ! The attribution of a man's act to God is better than the attribution of God's act to a man, for in the latter case the man stands by himself, while in the former case he stands through God.
Junayd and his followers prefer sobriety to intoxication. They say that intoxication is evil, because it involves the disturbance of one's normal state and loss of sanity and self-control ; and inasmuch as the principle of all things is sought either by way of annihilation or subsistence, or of effacement or affirmation, the principle of verification cannot be attained unless the seeker is sane. Blindness will never release anyone from the bondage and corruption of phenomena. The fact that people remain in phenomena and forget God is due to their not seeing things as they really are ; for if they saw, they would escape. Seeing is of two kinds : he who looks at anything sees it either with the eye of subsistence (baqa) or with the eye of annihilation (fana). If with the eye of subsistence, he perceives that the whole universe is imperfect in comparison with his own subsistence, for he does not regard phenomena as self-subsistent ; and if he looks with the eye of annihilation, he
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perceives that all created things are non-existent beside the subsistence of God. In either case he turns away from created things. On this account the Apostle said in his prayer : " O God, show us things as they are," because whoever thus sees them finds rest. Now, such vision cannot be properly attained except in the state of sobriety, and the intoxicated have no knowledge thereof. For example, Moses was intoxicated ; he could not endure the manifestation of one epiphany, but fell in a swoon (Kor. vii, 139) : but our Apostle was sober ; he beheld the same glory continuously, with ever-increasing consciousness, all the way from Mecca, until he stood at the space of two bow-lengths from the Divine presence (Kor. liii, 9).
My Shaykh, who followed the doctrine of Junayd, used to say that intoxication is the playground of children, but sobriety is the death-field of men. I say, in agreement with my Shaykh, that the perfection of the state of the intoxicated man is sobriety. The lowest stage in sobriety consists in regarding the powerlessness of humanity : therefore, a sobriety that appears to be evil is better than an intoxication that is really evil. It is related that Abû `Uthmân Maghribi, in the earlier part of his life, passed twenty years in retirement, living in deserts where he never heard the sound of a human voice, until his frame was wasted and his eyes became as small as the eye of a sack-needle. After twenty years he was commanded to associate with mankind. He resolved to begin with the people of God who dwelt beside His Temple, since by doing so he would gain a greater blessing. The Shaykhs of Mecca were aware of his coming and went forth to meet him. Finding him so changed that he hardly seemed to be a human creature, they said to him : " O Abû `Uthmân, tell us why you went and what you saw and what you gained and wherefore you have come back." He replied : " I went because of intoxication, and I saw the evil of intoxication, and I gained despair, and I have come back on account of weakness." All the Shaykhs said : " O Abû `Uthmân, it is not lawful for anyone after you to explain the meaning of sobriety
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and intoxication, for you have done justice to the whole matter and have shown forth the evil of intoxication."
Intoxication, then, is to fancy one's self annihilated while the attributes really subsist ; and this is a veil. Sobriety, on the other hand, is the vision of subsistence while the attributes are annihilated ; and this is actual revelation. It is absurd for anyone to suppose that intoxication is nearer to annihilation than sobriety is, for intoxication is a quality that exceeds sobriety, and so long as a man's attributes tend to increase he is without knowledge ; but when he begins to diminish them, seekers (of God) have some hope of him.
It is related that Yahyâ b. Mu`âdh wrote to Abû Yazíd : " What do you say of one who drinks a single drop of the ocean of love and becomes intoxicated ? " Bâyazid wrote in reply : " What do you say of one who, if all the oceans in the world were filled with the wine of love, would drink them all and still cry for more to slake his thirst ? " People imagine that Yahyâ was speaking of intoxication, and Bâyazid of sobriety, but the opposite is the case. The man of sobriety is he who is unable to drink even one drop, and the man of intoxication is he who drinks all and still desires more. Wine being the instrument of intoxication, but the enemy of sobriety, intoxication demands what is homogeneous with itself, whereas sobriety takes no pleasure in drinking.
There are two kinds of intoxication : (i) with the wine of affection (mawaddat) and (2) with the cup of love (mahabbat). The former is " caused " (ma`lul), since it arises from regarding the benefit (ni`mat); but the latter has no cause, since it arises from regarding the benefactor (mun`im). He who regards the benefit sees through himself and therefore sees himself; but he who regards the benefactor sees through Him and therefore does not see himself; so that, although he is intoxicated, his intoxication is sobriety.
Sobriety also is of two kinds : sobriety in heedlessness (ghaflat) and sobriety in love (mahabbat). The former is the greatest of veils, but the latter is the clearest of revelations,
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The sobriety that is connected with heedlessness is really intoxication, while that which is linked with love, although it be intoxication, is really sobriety. When the principle (asl) is firmly established, sobriety and intoxication resemble one another, but when the principle is wanting, both are baseless. In short, where true mystics tread, sobriety and intoxication are the effect of difference (ikhtilaf), and when the Sultan of Truth displays his beauty, both sobriety and intoxication appear to be intruders (tufayli), because the boundaries of both are joined, and the end of the one is the beginning of the other, and beginning and end are terms that imply separation, which has only a relative existence. In union all separations are negated, as the poet says—
" When the morning-star of wine rises,
The drunken and the sober are as one."
At Sarakhs there were two spiritual directors, namely, Luqmân and Abu 'l-Fadl Hasan. One day Luqmân came to Abu 'l-Fadl and found him with a piece (of manuscript) in his hand. He said : " O Abu 'l-Fadl, what are you seeking in this paper ? " Abu 'l-Fadl replied : " The same thing as you are seeking without a paper." Lugmân said : " Then why this difference ? " Abu 'l-Fadl answered : " You see a difference when you ask me what I am seeking. Become sober from intoxication and get rid of sobriety, in order that the difference may be removed from you and that you may know what you and I are in search of."
The Tayfûrís and Junaydís are at variance to the extent which has been indicated. As regards ethics, the doctrine of Bâyazíd consists in shunning companionship and choosing retirement from the world, and he enjoined all his disciples to do the same. This is a praiseworthy and laudable Path.
4. THE JUNAYDÍS.
They are the followers of Abu 'l-Qâsim al-Junayd b. Muhammad [...]

/1 Nicholson's preface, pp. XI-XI I.

/2 Nicholson, pp. 236-43, 271.

/3 Nicholson, p. 91. The original does not indicate that he was actually imprisoned, see Nicholson's preface p. X.

The Naqshbandiyya Order in India (S.A.A. Rizvi)

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Chapter Four [de Rizvi II  127] : The Naqshbandiyya Order
THE first volume of this work traced the origin of the Silsila-i Khwaj-gan in Central Asia.  
§
[ Rizvi  I est repris et inséré ici  pour ses pages pertinantes 95-97 :  ]
A significant sufi order named the Silsila-i Khwajgan, which thrived mainly in Transoxiana and later in India in its reorganized form, was known as the Naqshbandiyya. It traced its origin from Khwaja Abu Ya`qub Yusuf al-Hamadani (d. Muharram 535/August 1140). The Khwaja obtained his early education at Baghdad and lived at Marw and Herat, dying in Marw. Of his four disciples, Khwaja `Abdu'l-Khaliq bin `Abdu'l-Jamil, who came from Ghujduwan, modern Gizduvan, a large village in the north-eastern part of the oasis of Bukhara, was the true originator of the unique features of the Silsila-i Khwajgan.
Shaikh Ghujduwani wrote works both in Persian prose and poetry and compiled several treatises. A collection of his sayings, the Masaliku'l-Arifin, advocated that his disciples should acquire a precise learning of the Qur'an, Hadis and Fiqh. It urged dervishes to dissociate themselves from both ignorant sufis and those who promiscuously indulged in mixed company. Peace in the heart and a control of the eyesight would help in the pursuit of celibacy. Married life involved the sufi in everyday problems and exposed him to the threat of loss of faith. Mystics should not necessarily avoid sama' but any over-indulgence should be abandoned./2 
The writings of Shaikh Ghujduwani were founded on the Shari`a but his eight principles of sufi life and the rituals he advocated were largely based on yogic practices, current in the Bukhara region. The Shaikh's disciples however, were convinced that he had learnt these practices from Khizr. The Rashhat Ainu'l-Havat describes them in detail. A summary is contained below:

'1. Hosh dar darn (awareness while breathing). Sufis should not inhale or exhale absent-mindedly; every breath should be associated with an awareness of the divine presence.

2. Nazar bar gadam (watching the steps). Whenever a sufi walks he should be watchful of his steps, while not permitting his sight to distract him from his goal—awareness of the divine presence.

3. Safar dar watan (journey to one's homeland). This involves a journey from human to angelic attributes. Thus the abandonment of human vices leads to the virtues of angels. The essence of this

/1 M. Molé, 'Les Kubrawiya entre sunnisme et shiisme aux huitième et neuvième siècles de l'hégire', Revue des études Islamiques, 1961, pp. 61-142. See also his article, 'Traités mineurs de Nagm al-din Kubra,' Annules Islamologiques, IV, Cairo, 1963, pp. 1-78.

/2 Masaliku'I-Arifin, India Office Manuscript, Delhi, Persian, 1108, if. lb-2b.

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demand is the purification and polishing of the heart, achieved through unceasing effort during the early stages of mystical training.

4. Khalwat dar anjuman (solitude in an assembly) implies that the outward activities of a sufi in the world do not undermine his inward meditation of God. A sufi may wander into a bazaar but so engrossed in zikr should he be that not a single voice is heard by him. Each voice and conversation should be like zikr, and his own speech should also echo in his ears in the same way as a recitation of the name of God.

5. Yad-kard (remembrance) is related to both oral and mental zikr. The easiest way of performing zikr is as follows. The sufi controls his breath from below the navel, shuts his lips tightly and fastens his tongue to his palate to prevent suffocation. He then diverts the spiritual heart into a union with the physical heart which is pineal in shape, and zikr is begun. It takes the following form. The uttering of la (no) involves a process whereby the word is lifted from the navel to the brain ; Ilaha (God) is expressed, at the same time as the right shoulder is jerked sharply and il’ Allah (but Allah) is uttered as if the heart of flesh has been soundly struck. This process produces a spiritual heart which ontologically circulates throughout the body. The negation involved in the word (la) represents the fact that the world is transitory and the affirmation of il'Allah symbolizes the eternal nature of God. A trainee should be perpetually occupied with this form of zikr for it to achieve a lasting imprint on his heart of the Unity of God.

6. Baz-gasht (restraint). Each time one who performs zikr utters `al-kalimat al-tayyiba, /1 he should add: "Oh God! Thou art my Goal and I seek Thy satisfaction." This phrase would expel all thoughts, both good and evil, from the heart, thus purifying zikr.

7. Nigah-dasht (watchfulness). This helps to prevent the intrusion of evil thoughts during contemplation.

8. Yad-dasht (recollection) is a state of intuitive perception involving a permanent awareness of the divine presence. /2

Khwaja Ghujduwani, who devised these practices was succeeded by four khalifas, all from Bukhara. But it was 'Arif Riwgari (died 657/1259-60), who was the chief link with Muhammad ibn Muhammad Baha'u'd-Din an-Naqshband, in the following way.
'Arif Riwgari—Mahmud Anjir Faghnawi (d. 643/1245 or 670/1271-72)—'Azizan'Ali ar-Ramtini (d. 705/1306 or 721/1321-22)—Muhammad Baba as-Samasi (d. 740/1340 or 755/1354)—Saiyid Amir Kulal al-Bukhari (d. 772/1371), Khwaja Baha'u'd-Din Naqshband.

/1 The Islamic confession of faith.

/2 Rashhat 'Ainu'l-Havai, Kanpur, 1911, pp. 20-5.

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Khwaja Baha'u'd-Din was born in Muharram 718/March 1318. With Saiyid Kulal, Baha'u'd-Din is said to have obtained training from the spirit of Khwaja 'Abdu'l-Khaliq Ghujduwani. To the latter's eight principles of sufi discipline Shaikh Baha'u'd-Din added three more:

1. Wuquf-i Zamani (temporal pause) is the constant self-examination by a sufi on the way his time is spent. This leads to a perception of forgetfulness and an insight into a real understanding of the divine presence.

2. Wuquf-i 'Adadi (numerated pause) is the prevention of thought-anarchy through a process of counting the number of times zikr in the heart is repeated. The mystic completes one round of zikr between three and twenty-one recitations in the one breath; however, if there is no spiritual change after a second round of twenty-one zikrs this implies there has been no real impact. 'Negation' expressed in zikr should expel all human vices and `affirmation' should result in a perception of the divine presence.

3. Wuquf-i Qalbi (heart pause). This has two meanings: the first is identical to the explanation of Yad-dasht, but the second, implies that during zikr the heart of flesh should be in no way negligent. To Khwaja Baha'u'd-Din, control of the breath and the counting of zikr were not indispensable but he insisted that the Wuquf-i Qalbi was imperative. According to Khwaja Baha'u'd-Din, this was the essence of sufi discipline. /1

Jami believed that Khwaja Baha'u'd-Din emphasized that the Silsila-i Khwajgan or the Naqshbandis should not practise spoken zikr, seclusion and sama' but concentrate mainly on Khalwat dar anjuman, that is, being outwardly busy in worldly acts, but inwardly meditating on God./2 
Khwaja Baha'u'd-Din died on 3 Rabi` I, 791/1 March 1389. A large group of scholars and mystics spread his order into Transoxiana and India. The name Silsila-i Khwajgan gradually became obsolete and the order became known as the Naqshbandiyya.
/1 Rashhat ‘Ainu’l-Hayat, Kanpur, 1911, pp.26-7		
/2 NU, p.386  [NU réfère à une œuvre de Jami, voir List of abbreviations en tête de Rizvi I] »
§

[ Retour à Rizvi II, Chapiter Four / The Naqshbandiyya: Order ] 
THE first volume of this work traced the origin of the Silsila-i Khwaj-gan in Central Asia.
Later it was reorganized by Khwaja Baha'u'd-Din Naqshband (718/1318-791/1389) after whom the silsila came to be called the Naqshbandiyya./1  His tomb, known as the Qasr i-`Arifan, near Bukhara, grew into a thriving rendezvous for sufis and other Muslims. The rulers of Central Asia with great devotion invoked the blessings of his spirit. Later Khwaja Baha'u'd-Din Naqshband's disciples established a network of Naqshbandiyya centres throughout Central Asia and in Herat, Balkh and Badakshan.
The Indian Naqshbandiyyas traced their spiritual descent from Khwaja Nasiru'd-Din `Ubaidu'llah Ahrar,/2 a prominent successor of Khwaja Baha'u'd-Din's disciplë, Ya`qub Charkhi. Khwaja Ahrar was born in Ramazan 806/March-April 1404. His parents came from a devout farming family in Baghistan, a village in a valley near Tashkent. Prior to his birth his parents had migrated to Tashkent where they lived in the vicinity of the tomb of Imam Abu Bakr Qaffal Shashi./3 There the
/1 HSI, pp. 95-97.
/2 The most prominent among the ancestors of Khwaja Ahrar's mother was Shaikh 'Umar Baghistani, who had obtained initiation in the order of Shaikh Abu'n-Najib Suhrawardi. Shaikh `Umar's pir Shaikh Hasan hailed from Nakhchivan in Azarbayjan region of Iran, had travelled widely, visiting both Bulghar in the southern Russian steppes and Bukhara. In Bukhara, Shaikh `Umar came in close contact with Shaikh Hasan. On 22 Rabi` I 698/28 December 1298, Shaikh Hasan died and was buried at Surkhab in Tabriz. Shaikh `Umar and his disciple led the retired life of an ascetic and encouraged Muslims to lead a pious life, attending to their household duties rather than dedicating themselves to sufism.
Khwaja `Ubaidu'llah's father, Khwaja Mahmud Shashi, and grandfathers, were also sufis and were closely associated with the Naqshbandiyya disciples of Shaikh `Umar. Husain al-Wa'iz Kashi[ii, Rashahat `ani'l-hayat, Lucknow, 1912, pp. 208-20.
/3 Imam Abu Bakr `Abdu'llah b. Ahmad b. `Abudu'llah al-Qaffal al-Marwazi was a native of Marw and later settled in Shash (Tashkent). In his youth he worked as a locksmith, and even his great intellectual distinction as a Shafi'i doctor did not prevent him from carrying on as a locksmith (gajl`al). He wrote some important works on Shafi'i law; among his disciples were such eminent personalities as Abu `Ali, Qazi Husain and Abu Muhammad al-Juwaini, the father of the Imam al-Harmain. (Mac Guckin de Slane, Ibn Khallikan's biographical dictionary, II, New York and London 1843, p. 26). The great suti Shaikh Abu Said bin Abi'l Khair (357/967-440/1049, HST, pp. 68-72) also studied Fiqh under Shaikh Abu Bakr (Muhammad bin Munawwar, Asraru`t-tawhid, 2nd edition, Tehran, 1348/1969, pp. 24, 99). According to the Magamat-i Shaikh Abu Bakr Qaffal, the Shaikh followed a very organized routine in his life: one year fighting against the infidels in Turkey, the second year going on pilgrimage and the third year disseminating knowledge. It is said that he followed this routine of cycles for the last sixty years of his life (Rqshahat, p. 206). Ibn Khallikan says that he died in 417/1026-27 at the age of ninety and was buried in Sijistan. However his tomb in Shash (Tashkent) is very famous, and was rebuilt by `Abdu'Ilah Khan Uzbek (991/1583-1006/1598). Its original dome has been replaced by an artificial metal one, and the area around the tomb is still an important Islamic centre in communist Tashkent.
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Khwaja spent his childhood and adolescence, taking little interest in formal studies, his main interest being the local sufis. He spent most of his days at the tombs of Imam Abu Bakr Qaffal and of another sufi, Shaikh Khawand Tahur,1 only a short distance from his home. He also frequently visited the tomb of another local sufi, Shaikh Zainu'd-Din which was much further away./2
Nasiru'd-Din's parents were naturally concerned about the future of their boy. When he was twenty-two his maternal uncle took him to Samarqand to expose him to a new intellectual environment and to enable him to become an `alim. There Nasiru'd-Din again neglected his literary and theological studies, dedicating himself mostly to mystical exercises. By the standards of contemporary `aliens he was considered poorly educated. Meanwhile, however, he himself found great satisfaction in the company of the disciples of Khwaja Baha'u'd-Din Naqsh-band. During this period he travelled to Bukhara to visit the Naqsh-bandiyya disciples there.
Two years later Nasiru'd-Din `Ubaidu"lah Ahrar went via Marw to Herat where the ruler at the time was Mirza Shâhrukh (807/1405-850/ 1447). In a highly impoverished state, the Khwaja lived in a number of different seminaries in Herat in turn./3 In spite of his difficulties, the company of leading resident sufis and those who temporarily visited Herat gave him profound satisfaction. After four years he set off for Hisar via Balkh in order to meet Maulana Ya`qub Charkhi,/4 a distingu-
/1 Shaikh Khawand Tahur was the eldest son of Shaikh 'Umar Baghistani and was initiated into the silsila-i Khwajgan by a disciple of the family of Khwaja Ahmad Yasawi, who was a successor of Khwaja Yusuf Hamadani (d. 535/1140-41). Shaikh Khawand Tahur had travelled to Bukhara and Khwarazm and wrote some treatises on sufism which do not survive. His tomb in the heart of old Tashkent is in a good state of repair and is surrounded by imposing industrial and commercial complexes.
/2 Rashahat, pp. 223-24.
/3 ibid, pp. 224-27, 232-34.
/4 Maulana Ya`qub bin `Usman bin Mahmud bin Muhammad Ghaznawj, born at Charkh (a village near Ghazni), was also the author of a commentary on the Qur'an. He died in 838/1434-5 and was buried in a village near Hisar-Shadman (now Dushanbe in Tajikistan. U.S.S.R.).
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ished khalifa of Khwaja Baha'ud-Din Naqshband, and was initiated into the Naqshbandiyya order by him. The Maulana trained the Khwaja in the Naqshbandiyya zikr of nafi-o isbat, also known as the Wuquf-i Adadi' and advised him to imprint mystically on his disciples the impact of his personality and to engender in them the ecstatic love of the Divine.
The Khwaja's initiation by the Maulana was a mere formality, as the company of a number of eminent disciples of Khwaja Baha'u'd-Din, and his own self-mortification and mystical exercises, had already made him perfect. Maulana Ya`qub's senior disciples were annoyed by his favouring of the Khwaja whom he considered to be like a lamp ready with oil and wick; a lamp which only required lighting./2
After three months with his pir, Khwaja Nasiru'd-Din `Ubaidu'llah Ahrar returned to Herat and later, at the age of twenty-nine, he returned to Tashkent where he resumed control of his small ancestral farm. Gradually the farm, supporting both agriculture and livestock, prospered. His popularity also increased, and he built a vast khanqah, a madrasa and a Jami’ mosque in Tashkent. Farkat, the suburb of Tashkent where he generally lived, became the centre of his spiritual activity.
The Timurid prince, Sultan Abu Said bin Muhammad bin Miranshah bin Timur (855/1451-873/1469) is said to have sought the Khwaja's blessing before marching against Samargand in 855/1451. This was given on condition that Sultan would strengthen adherence to the Shari'a and promote the welfare of his subjects. The Khwaja accompanied the Sultan on his campaign, offering both military and spiritual assistance against his enemy, Mirza `Abdu'llah of Samarqand. After Sultan Abu Sa`id's victory over Samargand, the Khwaja moved there from Tashkent./3
The encouragement given by the Khwaja enabled Sultan Abu Said to repulse the invasion of Samarqand by another Timurid prince, Mirza Abu'l-Qasim Babur (853/1449-861/1457), a grandson of Mirza Shah-rukh. It was through the Khwaja's mediation that the truce was finally concluded in 1454. Throughout the reign of Sultan Abud Sa`id, the Khwaja remained a tower of strength to him. He urged the Sultan to
/1 This is one of the three principles of sufi discipline which Khwaja Baha`u'd-Din added to the eight other principles invented by Khwaja 'Abdu'l-Khaliq Ghujduwani. HSI, p. 97.
/2 Rashahat, pp. 241-42. Nafahatu'l-uns, pp. 398-99. The story is a stock-in-trade sufi anecdote and is also ascribed to Shaikh Shihabu'd-Din Suhrawardi. HSI, p. 190.
/3 Rashahat, pp. 289-92. Anonymous History of Khwaja `Ubaidu'llah Ahrar, Dushanbe MS., 548/1, f. 4b.
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introduce reforms beneficial to the peasants and the merchants.' It would seem that Sultan Abu Said and his successor gave the Khwaja considerable gifts of farming property which, like his original farm, prospered under his management. According to the Rashahat, the Khwaja owned more than 1030 hamlets; and `Abdu'r-Rahman Jami referred to the affluence of the Khwaja in his masnawis, Yusuf-Zulaikhâ and the Tuhfatu'1-Ahrar. The Samarqand Documents of the XV-XVI Centuries, recently published in Moscow, confirm that the Khwaja's property extended the whole way from Tashkent to Samarqand. Besides agricultural and grazing land, his assets included orchards, houses, shops, mills, agricultural implements and utensils. Later khanqahs, madrasas and mosques were also added to these. More than fifty slaves, mostly Indian, worked in the main khanqah./2 Even Jami mentioned Khwaja Nasiru'd-Din `Ubaidu'llah's wealth in one of his verses :
« Beat the monarchical kettle-drum
The splendour of the faqr (dervish-hood) of `Ubaidu'llah » /3
On one occasion the Khwaja paid 250,000 dinars and on another 70,000 dinars to 'Umar Shaikh Mirza (the father of Emperor Babur and a son of Sultan Abu Said) to relieve the Muslims of Tashkent of a large part of their tax burden. But despite his astronomical wealth the Khwaja's life-style was reminiscent of that of the lowliest dervish in his khanqah. The farms he acquired were left under the control of their original cultivators, who paid double tithes (`ushr) to the state./4 Such paternalistic management was mainly responsible for the prosperity of those farms, although the hagiologists ascribed their abundant production to the Khwaja's blessing. All revenue from his extensive holdings was put into a waqf (religious endowment) for the benefit of members of his madrasas, khanqahs, and mosques, and of sufis, `ulama' and travellers as well as deprived Muslims in general.
On 29 Rabi' 1 895/20 Feb. 1490, Khwaja Nasiru'd-Din `Ubaidu'llah Ahrar died in Samargand and was buried in his khanqah. No tomb was erected. A high platform (later accommodating other family graves) and a tall beautifully-carved tablet were the only marks indicating the last resting-place of such a great sufi.
Khwaja Nasiru'd-Din was survived by a large number of disciples from a variety of professional and social backgrounds. Among his
/1 Khwaja `Abdu'l-Haqq, Sukhunan-i Khwaja 'Ubaidu'llah Ahrar, Tashkent MS., no. 3735, ff. 164b, 202a, 211a; Letters of Khwaja 'Ubaidu'llah Ahrar, Dushanbe MS., 548/ 21, if. 197b-99B.
/2 Hekhovich, O.D., Samargand documents XV-Xvl century, Moscow, 1975, nos. 10, 11.
/3 Rashahat, p. 292.
/4 Samargand documents, no. 16; Maganrat-1 Khwaja Ahrar, Tashkent MS., no. 8537, f. 13a,
178 
princely followers, 'Umar Shaikh Mirza was his most enthusiastic disciple and his son, Babur, was also a life-long devotee of the Khwaja's, drawing inspiration from his spirit and teachings. The Khwaja's sons also remained friendly with Sultan Abu Sa`id's descendants rather than with their Uzbek rivals. In 901/1495-96, Khwaja `Ubaidu'llah's eldest son, Khwajagi Khwaja, protected Baysonghor Mirza, a grandson of Sultan Abu Said, against an invasion of Samarqand by Sultan Mahmud of Tashkent./1 In 905/1499-1500 Khwaja Muhammad Yahya, the younger son of Khwaja Ahrar, made an abortive attempt to get Babur in Samarqand, but failed./2 On 15 Muharram 906/11 August 1500, Shaibani Khan Uzbek, who seized Samarqand from the Timurids, banished Muhammad Yahya and all his family from their home and seized the property of Khwaja `Ubaidu'llah Ahrar. A band of 300 Uzbeks attacked Khwaja Yahya and his party en route to exile, and he and his two sons were killed./3
In 950/1543 a portion of this property was returned to the remaining members of the Khwaja's family by 'Abdul-Latif Bahadur Khan bin Kuchkinji Khan of Samarqand./4 The real mark left by Khwaja`Ubaidu'llah Ahrar on the pages of history was in the form of his teachings, so successfully disseminated by his disciples. He advocated that the transient was effaced when the reality of love appeared from the heart and entirely burnt out the imaginary existence of things other than God or His attributes. In that situation the love of the devotee assumed the quality of a mirror and nothing but the Beloved was reflected in it. Seekers of Tawhid should strive to dedicate themselves to the Prophet Muhammad, so much so that their entire selves, including their hearts and their spirits, were free of thoughts other than of God./5 A devotee should strike his heart with the kalima of Tawhid which was as hard as steel so that Divine love could emerge from the heart, ravaging all else but God./6 A wali (sufi saint) was the repository of the theophany of Divine names and attributes. Only Divine grace could give the mystic state permanency and endow the heart with the vision of Being./7
Khwaja `Ubaidu'llah Ahrar reminded his followers that Shaikh `Ala'u'd-Daula Simnani (659/1261-736/1336) had rejected certain statements of Ibn `Arabi while extolling others. One of his statements much admired by Shaikh `Ala'u'd-Daula was this.
/1 Beveridge, A.S. tr., Babur-rama, I, reprint, New Delhi, 1970, p. 62; Shaibani-nama, Tashkent MS., p. 131.
/2 Shaibani-narra, Tashkent MS., p. 131.
/3 Babur-nama, pp. 124-25.
/4 Samarqand documents, no. 16.
/5 Ffgrat-i hazrat wilayas-pariah, Tashkent MS., f. 54b.
/6 ibid, f. 90b.
/7 ibid, f. 56b.
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The makr1 (scheme) of Allah is a blessing for the common people, howsoever they are involved in sinful and prohibited practices. To the spiritual élite the same makr is the source of permanency of their mystic states, howsoever they abandon manners./2
Once a sufi put to the Khwaja the following question: 'The eminent sufis have remarked that there is no Being except the Absolute Being. They add that the Primal One is manifested behind all existence. 1f this is true, the disputes between Islam and infidelity are inexplicable.' The Khwaja quoted in reply the following two verses of Maulana Rumi:
`Since colourlessness (Pure Unity or the Absolute) became the captive of colour (manifestation in the phenomenal world), a Moses came into conflict with a Moses.
When you attain unto the colourlessness which you (originally) possessed, Moses and Pharaoh are at peace (with each other)./3
/1 The Qur'an says: 'And they (the disbelievers) schemed (makr) and Allah schemed (against them); and Allah is the best of schemers' (III, 54).
/2 Figrat-i hazrat wilayat-panah, f. 74b.
/3 Rashahat, p. 284. The above are verses no. 2466 and 2467, Book I, in the Mathnawi of Jalalu'd--Din Rami, T, edited by R.A. Nicholson, London, 1925, p. 152 lines 366, 367, English translation by R.A. Nicholson, Mathnawi, II, London, 1960, new series, p. 134. Colour (rang) represents individualization or determination (ta'ayyun) or descent of the Absolute (Berangi). The following lines of Shelley, says Nicholson, explain the idea contained in Rumi's verses :
`Life, like a dome of many coloured glass,
Stains the white radiance of eternity'.
The section containing Rumi's verses is entitled `Explaining that both Moses and pharaoh are subject to the Divine Will, like antidote and poison and darkness and light, and how Pharaoh conversed in solitude with God, praying that He would not destroy his (good) reputation.'
Ibn `Arabi and his interpreters, including Rumi, maintained that the conflict between Moses and Pharaoh was not a war between `obedience' and `disobedience.' In essence there was no antagonism between Pharaoh and God, but Pharaoh opposed Moses for implementing the command (amr) of God as revealed in the law. 'A Moses comes into conflict with Moses' means that the `Unity displays itself in forms which, though outwardly opposed, are in fact nothing but the Divine Essence viewed under the aspect of `otherness' and, like water and ice, ultimately identical,' R.A. Nicholson, Rumi, Poet and Mystic, 3rd impression, London, 1964, p. 146. In a different note Nicholson writes about the above verse :
The essence of Man is Divine and therefore one; conflict between spirit and flesh, mind and body, arises from creation, which involves plurality and difference. 'Our war and our peace is in the light of the Essence : `tis not from us, `tis between the two fingers of God,' i.e. all this opposition has its source in the Divine attributes objectified in the world and in Man..., for 'the edifice of creation is based on contraries.' In order that God may be made known, the One appears as the Many, and His names and attributes are distinguished from His Essence, though in truth they are nothing but the Essence viewed under the form of `otherness' and, like water and ice, í are ultimately identical. This apparent difference-in-identity is described by the poet as war between a Moses and a Moses.
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In a private conversation with friends, the Khwaja made the statement recorded by Kashifi: 'The most important intellectual discipline is the knowledge of Qur'anic exegesis, Hadis and Fiqh. The essence of the latter is Tasawwuf which discusses the Wujud (Being). Exponents of the Wakdat al-Wujud assert that Unity is manifested in all phenomenal existence and relationships. It is the theophany of the Divine. This subject is very complex and subtle and any attempt to understand it with the assistance of reason and imagination leads to impiety and heresy, for in the world impurities and animals such as dogs and pigs are also found in great abundance. To identify them with Being is both undesirable and indiscreet, and to exclude them as an exception to the rule is against the principle and technical usage of Being as propounded by sufis. It is therefore incumbent on the pious that they should devote themselves to purifying their hearts of worldly matters, so much so that the perception of Being naturally illuminates them."
Turning now to the disciples of the Khwaja, a number shared his love of travelling in-order to enrich mystical experiences. One of them was Shaikh Faiyazi Bukhari, who spent some time in northern China where he practised mystic exercises and meditation in the mountains and deserts of that area. Some time before 1531 he reached Nagaur in Rajasthan (India) and died there./2
The conquest of India by Babur in 1526 gave considerable impetus to
[suite de la note 3 précédente:] R.A. Nicholson, The Mathnawi of Jalalu'd-Din Rumi, VII, commentary on the first and second books, London, 1937, p. 158.
Again Rumi wrote :
The letters are the vessel: therein the meaning is (contained) like water; (but) the sea of the meaning is (with God) —with Him is the Ummu'l-Kitab.
In this world the bitter sea and the sweet sea (are divided)—between them is a barrier which they do not seek to cross.
Know that both these flow from one origin. Pass on from them both, go (all the way) to their origin !
Without the touchstone you will never know in the assay adulterated gold and fine gold by (using your own) judgment. Nicholson, R.A., The Mathnawi of Jalalu'd-Din Rumi, Book I, London, 1960, lines 298-99, translation, II, p. 19.
Nicholson offers the following comments :
God, who has no like or opposite, is the ultimate source of good and evil, faith and infidelity, and all other opposites, since these are nothing more than reflexions of the Divine attributes of Beauty and Majesty, Mercy and Wrath, etc., i.e. aspects in which God reveals Himself to human minds. Such contradictions, though proper to the world of Appearance, are transcended and unified in the mystic's vision of Reality. The mystic, `seeing by the Light of God,' knows that the infinite Divine perfections include all that we describe as good or evil. Rumi bids his readers `break through to the Oneness,' abandon their evil selves and the world in which evil is at war with good, and seek union with the Absolute Good. Nicholson, R.A., The Mathnawc of Rumi, VII, p. 32.
/1 Rashahat, p. 272.
/2 Abu'1-Fazl, A'in-i Akbari, Lucknow, 1893, pp. 202-3, RIM, p. 79.

the development of the Naqshbandiyya order. Both the new Emperor and a large number of his Central Asian soldiers were the spiritual followers of the disciples of Khwaja `Ubaidu'llah Ahrar. Some eminent Naqshbandiyya sufis also migrated from Central Asia to India. Among the most prominent were Khwaja `Abdu'sh-shahid and Khwaja Kalan, a descendant of Khwaja `Ubaidu'llah Ahrar /l whom Babur deeply respected. Khwaja Khawand Mahmud, son of Khwaja Kalan and a grandson of Khwaja `Ubaidu'llah Ahrar, and who was called Makhdumi Nura in the Tarikh-i Rashidi, was also held in great respect by Babur who died when the Khwaja was on his way from Kabul to meet him. Mirza Kamran, the governor of the Panjab invited him to stay at Lahore, but the Khwaja chose first to see Babur's successor Humayun. The influence of the Shattaris on Humayun annoyed the Khwaja, however, and he returned to Lahore in 943/1536-37. After living with Mirza Kamran for three years he then left India forever./2
In the early years of Akbar's reign the Naqshbandiyya influence returned to the Mughal court and many Naqshbandiyya sufis who migrated from their homeland in Transoxiana to Agra obtained high posts in the civil and military administration. In general they retained their loyalty to the Emperor and even supported the broadly-based policies which Akbar introduced after 1579./3 Some Naqshbandiyya pirs who had migrated to India after spending a few years with Mirza Hakim (Akbar's half-brother), or who were originally from Kabul, remained loyal to Mirza Hakim and also opposed Akbar's religious policies. One of their leaders was Khwaja `Ubaid Kabuli, a khalifa of Maulana Lutfu'llah Naqshbandi./4 After some years as a sufi preacher at Kabul under the patronage of Mirza Hakim, he migrated to Akbar's court. Muhammad Hashim Kishmi says that Akbar banished him to Thatta after he became involved in some religious dispute./5
A very prominent Naqshbandiyya who left his mark on the Sunnis of Kashmir was Khwaja Khawand Mahmud Naqshbandi `Alwi Husaini, the son of Khwaja Mir Saiyid Sharif. His ancestors were descendants of Khwaja Muhammad `Ala'u'd-Din`Attar,/6 a leading disciple of Khwaja
/1 Babur-nama, p. 631.
/2 Haidar Mirza, Tarikh-i Rashidi, English translation by E. Denison Ross, London, 1898, pp. 395-401; MRM, pp. 180-81.
/3 MRM, pp. 81-82.
/4 Maulana Lutfu'llah was the khalifa of Maulana Khwajagi, who in turn was the khalifa of Maulana Muhammad Qazi. The latter was a favourite disciple of Khwaja `Ubaidu'llah Ahrar (Rashahat, pp. 344-47), Mu'inu'd-Din, Kanzu's-sa'adat, Tashkent MS., f. 248a.
/5 Muhammad Hashim Kishmi, Nasamatu'l-quds, Tashkent MS., f. 233a; for the religious problems of Akbar's reign, see RIH.
/6 Khwaja `Ala'u'd-Din `Attar was regarded a deputy of Khwaja Baha'u'd-Din Naqsh-band and occupied a very prominent position among the latter's khalifas (Rashahat,
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Baha'u'd-Din Naqshband. Khwaja Khawand Mahmud al-`Attari al-Naqshbandi al-`Alwi al-Husaini was born in 965/1557-58 and was educated at Samargand./1 At twenty he fell into a state of mystical ecstasy which prompted him to make a pilgrimage. When he arrived in Wakhash,/2 the governor persuaded him to live there. After a quarrel with government officials he later moved to Balkh.
At the age of twenty-three, the Khwaja became the disciple of Khwaja Ishaq of Dehbed /3 (close to Balkh), a khalifa of Maulana Lutfu'llah. At his pir's orders he went to Bukhara where he performed ascetic exercises at the tomb of Khwaja Baha'u'd-Din Naqshband in the Qasr-i `Arifan. On his return he was given the responsibility of doing missionary work for the Naqshbandiyya order.
Travelling through Wakhsh and Kabul, Khwaja Khawand Mahmud joined a caravan bound for Lahore. Somewhere in Gujarat (the Panjab), however, where the routes to Kashmir and Lahore separated, he fell into an ecstatic trance and his horse, unguided, took the route to Kashmir. When the Khwaja regained consciousness he decided it was a Divine portent and so resigned himself to the will of God.
At Srinagar an eminent Mughal officer, Jamil Beg, greeted Khwaja Khawand Mahmud warmly. Opposed though he was to the Khwaja's mission to assume the role of a leading Naqshbandiyya dervish, he informed him that as the ordinary Muslims of Kashmir were profligate and the `ulama' puffed up with intellectual pride, Srinagar was hardly a proper place to be transformed into a Naqshbandiyya centre. Many Naqshbandiyya before him had tried to disseminate their teachings but were unable to make any impact upon the Kashmiris. Firmly the Khwaja rejected this advice on the basis that he had been commissioned by his pir to act as the Naqshbandi guide in the region. Only a few days after declaring himself the Naqshbandiyya pir in Kashmir, he was approached by both the Kashmiri and the Mughal population for guidance. Even
p. 57). His name was Muhammad bin Muhammad. A native of Khwarazm, he obtained his religious education at Bukhara. The personal care of Khwaja Baha'u'd-Din Naqshband sharpened Khwaja `Attar's mystical sensitivity, and both `ulama' and sufis considered him as their spiritual leader. After the death of Khwaja Baha'u'd-Din, Khwaja `Attar settled in Chaghaniyan near Hisar-Shadman (Dushanbe in Tajikistan) and died on 29 Raja 802/17 March 1400 (Rashahat, pp. 56-57, 80-90). Maulana Ya'qub Charkhi also obtained training under Khwaja `Attar, Nafhatu'l-uns, p. 398.
/1 Mu`inu'd-Din Naqshbandi, Kanzu`s sa'adat, f. 258a.
/2 Near Hisar-shadman.
/3 Khwaha Ishaq was the son of Maulana Khwajagi, but at his father's desire received his mystical training under Maulana Lutfu'llah. Khwaja Ishaq's pir not only prescribed very hard ascetic exercises, but forced him to lead a poverty-stricken life in order to make him forget that he was the son of an eminent sufi pir. Kanzu's-sa'adat, f. 249b.
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teachers and `ulama' vied with one another in becoming the Khwaja's disciples. Jamil Beg regretted his original advice and built a mosque near his guest-house for the Khwaja. Nevertheless his hostility remained, but Khwaja's spiritual power foiled Jamil Beg's intrigues and he was forced to admit defeat./1
Shortly afterwards Khwaja Muhammad Amin (a nephew of Khwaja Ishaq Dehbedi) arrived in Srinagar. Some of Jamil Beg's followers who had been devoted to Khwaja Ishaq Dehbedi now became disciples of Khwaja Muhammad Amin. The ever-increasing band of disciples forced Khwaja Muhammad Amin into a state of rivalry with Khwaja Khawand Mahmud. However it was the latter's miraculous power, according to his son, Khwaja Mu'inu'd-Din, which prompted Khwaja Muhammad Amin to become his rival's disciple./2 The Mughal government of Kashmir assigned the house of the Sultan of Kashmir, Husain Shah,/3 to the Shaikh who converted it into a khangah, and a small mosque was built beside it. Before Akbar's death the Khwaja visited Agra where he initiated a number of high-ranking Mughal nobles, including Mirza `Aziz Koka who became his disciple. Prominent ladies of the harem such as Sultan Salima Begum and Gulrukh Begum, also took the opportunity of becoming disciples of a direct descendant of their ancestral pirs, Khwaja Baha'u'd-Din Naqshband and Khwaja `Ubaidu'llah Ahrar. Even Akbar, says Khwaja Mu'inu'd-Din, sought the Khwaja's blessings. After Jahangir's accession he departed for Kashmir, but had only reached Lahore when the rebel prince Khusrau asked him for his blessing for his uprising. Politely the Khwaja refused him saying that he prayed only for him who was fighting for a right cause and pious motives./4
In 1015/1606-07 Khwaja Khawand Mahmud reached Srinagar, and at the same time sent some of his disciples to Kabul to initiate others. Mulla `Abdu'l-Hasan and an illiterate Kashmiri disciple were sent by the Khwaja to propagate Islam in Tibet. In 1017/1608 the Khwaja revisited Agra, but this time he was involved in a conflict with a Mughal officer who was his enemy over the question of `discipleship';/5 the Khwaja's clever handling of the situation staved off a crisis, however. Such an orthodox Transoxianian nobleman as Khan-i A`zam offered no assistance to Khwaja Khawand Mahmud, but the Irani Abu'l Hasan (later Asaf Khan), the second son of Jahangir's Wakil-i kul (Prime Minister)
/1 Kanzu's-sa'adat, ff. 248B-50b.
/2 Khwaja Mu'inu'd-Din, Mir'at-i taiylbat, Raza Library, Rampur MS., ff. 86b-87a.
/3 Probably Husain Shah Chak (1563-70); a different Husain Shah of the Chak dynasty ruled only for a few months in 1586.
/4 Mlr`at-i taiyibat, ff. 67b-69a.
/5 MRM , pp. 183-84.
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I`timadu'd-Dawla, steadfastly supported him./1 The Khwaja finally left for Kashmir after distributing about 23,000 rupees of his own funds in Agra to the deserving. In 1620 Emperor Jahangir, during his visit to Kashmir, evinced considerable interest in the Khwaja's mission as the Naqshbandiyya leader.
When the Khwaja assumed leadership of the Sunnis in Kashmir, who were deeply involved in a struggle against the Shill minority, he believed he was the only real Naqshbandiyya pir in India and that the status of other Indian Naqshbandiyyas like Shaikh Ahmad Sirhindi (the Mujaddid) was inferior./2 His anti-Shi`i feelings and his involvement in puritanical Sunni revivalist activities, however, prompted Jahangir to banish him to Kabul. But in the reign of Shahjahan he again returned to Kashmir and began to mobilize the Sunnis against Zafar Khan, the governor of Kashmir. Even 'Allami Afzal Khan, the influential Diwan who was famous for his orthodox brand of piety, became alarmed and advised Shahjahan that the type of leadership the Khwaja had assumed in Kashmir was a potential threat to the interests of the government. Although he hesitated to take action against the Khwaja, who was nearing eighty, Shahjahan accepted the advice of Afzal Khan /3 The Khwaja was exiled to Lahore. His death occurred on 11 Sha`ban 1052/4 Nov. 1642 in Lahore where he was buried./4
The tomb over the Khwaja's grave also sparked off an interesting controversy. Traditionally such constructions were not erected for the Naqshbandiyya sufis. A governor of Lahore, previously hostile to the Khwaja, sided with those who considered the erection of the tomb sacrilegious to the Naqshbandiyya practice. The subsequent assassination of the governor, believed to be a miracle performed by the spirit of the Khwaja, ended all attempts to demolish his tomb./5
During his lifetime, the Khwpja had had many disciples and sixteen khalifas. He also fathered six sons, the eldest of whom Khwaja Khawand Ahmad, was his successor. The most famous, however, was his 4th son, Khwaja Khawand Mu'inu'd-Din, an eminent scholar who wrote many books on Fiqh, as well as historical works relating to his ancestors.
Khwaja Mu`inu'd-Din migrated to India after his father had settled in Kashmir. He was trained in the formal religious sciences by the famous Shaikh `Abdu'l-Haqq Muhaddis Dihlawi/6 and was initiated into the
/1 Mir'at-i taiyibat, ff. 92a-93a.
/2 Shaikh Ahmad Sirhindi's letter to Khwaja Abu'l-Qasim Amkangi, Maktubat-i Imam-i Rabbani, I, no. 180, Karachi, 1972.
/3 Kanzu's-sa'adat, ff. 256b-58a.
/4 ibid, f. 258a; Mir'at-i taiyibat, f. 119a.
/5 Khazinatu'l-asfiya', I, p. 628.
/6 supra, pp. 82-98.
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Naqshbandiyya order by his father. After Shahjahan exiled the latter, Mu'inu'd-Din was permitted to remain in Srinagar where he was in charge of bis father's disciples, carefully avoiding contact with the political scene. During Aurangzib's reign he remained a significant figure. He died in Muharram 1085/April 1674. His three sons all died in infancy, therefore the administration of the khanqah was taken over by Khwaja Mu'inu'd-Din's widow. According to Muhammad A`zam, her charity in feeding and caring for the khanqah's servants and callers left a great mark on the annals of sufi history in Kashmir./1
During his life Khwaja Mu'inu'd-Din compiled a work in Arabic called the Fatawa-i Naqshbandiyya in collaboration with. other members of the 'ulama' in Kashmir, Lahore and Delhi. The work was, in fact, the precursor of the Fatawa al-`Alamgiriyya compiled under Aurangzib's personal supervision by a board of `ulama'. The Mirat-i Taiyiba by Khwaja Mu'inu'd-Din is a detailed account of his father's achievements; and a section of his Kanzu's-sa`adat in Persian, also includes a biographical account of Khwaja Khawand Mahmud, while the rest of the work deals with the problems of Fiqh, concluding with a detailed analysis of the duties of orthodox Sunni rulers. This section largely follows the Zakhiratu'l-multuk/2 by Mir Saiyid `Ali Hamadani and the Suluku'l-muluk/3 of Fazlu'llah Ruzbihan Isfahani.
The Naqshbandiyya sufi who gained the most remarkable popularity in India in a very short period was Khwaja Muhammad Baqi, or Baqi Billah Berang, (the son of Qazi `Abdu's-Salam Khalji Samarqandi Quraishi) who was born in Kabul in either 971/1563-64 or 972/1564-65. His father was both an 'dim and a sufi, and his mother was a descendant of the family of Khwaja `Ubaidu'llah Ahrar. From childhood he was introspective and meditative. In 978/1570-71 Maulana Sadiq Halwa'i,/4 an eminent `alien and poet from Samarqand, arrived in Kabul from Mecca and Medina and stayed there at the request of Akbar's younger brother, Mirza Muhammad Hakim, the Viceroy of Kabul. Muhammad Baqi became his disciple. Impressed with his student's intellectual potential, Maulana Sadiq allowed Muhammad Baqi to accompany him to Transoxiana. To the regret of some distinguished scholars there, Muhammad Baqi failed to complete the prescribed education of an `alim, rejecting it for sufism./5
Muhammad Baqi performed tauba (repentance) under many
/1 Wagi`at-i Kashmir, pp. 168-69.
/2 HSI, pp. 292-95.
/3 MS. copies of this work are available in the British Museum, and in Tashkent and Leningrad, English translation by M. Aslam, Islamabad, 1976.
/4 Maulana was also a poet.
/5 Muhammad Hashim, Zubdatu'l-maqamat, Kanpur, 1890, p. 6.
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Naqshbandi saints of Transoxiana, firstly under Khwaja `Ubaid, a khalifa of Maulana Lutfu'llah, then in the presence of Khwaja Iftikhar Shaikh of Samarqand. Initially Khwaja Iftikhar had only reluctantly become pir to the young Muhammad Baqi, but he relented after becoming convinced of his sincerity. Muhammad Baqi's next spiritual influence was Amir `Abdu'llah Balkhi. For two years he performed the zikr and meditation prescribed by Amir `Abdu'llah Balkhi but remained spiritually unstable./1 After leaving Kabul for India in pursuit of a more inspired spiritual life he contacted some of his relations who held prominent government positions. Although they attempted to persuade him to enter the service of the Mughals the Khwaja remained aloof from the worldly career of an `alim or of a military man.
In Lahore, Muhammad Baqi had an unrequited love affair. The sources refer only to a worldly (suri) beloved but most probably, as was the custom in Transoxiana,/2 the loved one was a young boy. When the two were finally separated, the distraught Muhammad Baqi plunged into the ecstatic side of Sufism, spending his nights reading mystical works describing love (both earthly and divine) and his days in aimless wandering through the streets of Lahore and the graveyards and nearby forests. For months neither rain nor the vicissitudes of the seasons deterred him from his search for a perfect sufi who could enable him to obtain spiritual peace and Divine love.
Finally Khwaja Muhammad Baqi heard of a majzub (ecstatic) famed for his spiritual perfection, only to be rejected by him and even stoned for his trouble. His mother, herself a devout and pious woman, who had accompanied him, was greatly disturbed by her son's mental and spiritual condition. She would pray for him nightly. After some time the majzub relented and blessed the Khwaja; and the study of a mystical book further infused his heart with mystical illumination.
Khwaja Muhammad Baqi then travelled to Delhi and from there as far as Sambhal in western U.P. in his continuing search for a perfect guide. From Sambal he again returned to Lahore, then to Kashmir.
In Kashmir the Khwaja came in contact with Baba Wali,/3 who initiated disciples into the Naqshbandiyya order. In 1592 Baba Wali died, but by that time Khwaja Muhammad Baqi felt that the holy spirits of the
/1 Zubdatu'l-magamat pp. 9-10.
/2 Muntakhabu't-tawarikh, 11, p. 21.
/3 Baba Wali originally belonged to Khwarazm and had received training under eminent scholars and sufis of the region. In 999/1590-91 he migrated to Kashmir and settled in the khanqah of Mir Saiyid `Ali Hamadani. In the scramble for power between the scions of the sultans of Kashmir and Akbar, Baba Wali took sides with the Emperor but died on 15 Safar 1001/21 November 1592, after being administered poison by the enemies of Akbar. Khwaja Muhammad A`zam, Wagi`at-i Kashmir, Lahore, 1303/1886, p. 110.
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Naqshbandiyya Khwajas had prophesied his spiritual eminence. He travelled through Balkh and Badakhshan where he consulted the local sufis. At Amkina near Samarqand, he was warmly received by Maulana Khwajagi Amkinagi,/l a spiritual descendant of Khwaja Nasiru'd-Din Ubaidu'llah Ahrar. The stories of the Khwaja's swift initiation into the Naqshbandiyya order in three days are reminiscent of those connected with the initiation of Shaikh Baha'u'd-Din Zakariyya by Shaikh Shihabu'-d-Din Suhrawardi./2 Maulana Khwajagi advised Khwaja Muhammad Baqi to hasten back to India, and prophesied the success of the Naqshbandiyya silsila in the sub-continent through his teachings. The more senior disciples of the Maulana naturally were jealous of his privileged treatment but were silenced by the remark that before he had arrived in Amkina the Khwaja lead already become a perfect sufi. What he (the Maulana) did was merely to stabilize the Khwaja's spiritual condition through his company, for he, unlike other sufi initiates, was not required to start from scratch./3
Leaving Samargand, the Khwaja visited Lahore, where a severe famine had resulted in many people dying in the streets. In sympathy, according to hagiologists, Khwaja Muhammad Baqi refused all nourishment, sending his food ration to the starving. After a few weeks he set out for Delhi. On the road he gathered up those too weak to walk and put them on his own horse, but just outside each town he remounted in order to be inconspicuous in his charity. After his arrival in Delhi, the Khwaja lived in the Firuzabad fort near the Jamuna.
It is not known if Khwaja Muhammad Baqi's mother stayed in Lahore or accompanied him on the arduous journey to Kashmir and Transoxiana. However she did migrate with him to Delhi, where she worked for him during a period when his health was poor. As Khwaja Muhammad Baqi died on Saturday 25 Jumada II 1012/30 Nov. 1603 and is known to have lived there no more than four years, he must have arrived in Delhi in 1008/1599-1600. He then married two wives, and was surviv-
/1 Maulana Khwajagi Amkingi was the khalifa of his father Maulana Darwesh Muhammad (d. 19 Muharram 970/18 September 1562). Maulana Darwesh in turn was the khalifa of his maternal uncle Maulana Muhammad Zahid of Wakhsh (d. 1 Rabi' I 936/3 November 1529), a khalifa of Khwaja `Ubaidû'llah Ahrar. Maulana Khwajagi is said to have strictly followed the practices of Khwaja Baha'u'd-Din Naqshband and rejected such practices as the morning zikr-i fahr invented by the followers of Khwaja Dehbedi. In 1008/1599-1600, Khwajagi Amkinagi died at an age of ninety. Shaikh Badru'd-Din Sirhindi, Hazaratu'l-quds, Urdu translation, Lahore, 1923, pp. 210-12.
/2 HSI, p. 190.
/3 Muhammad Hashim, Nasamatu'l-quds, Tashkent MS., ff. 259b-268a; Zubdatu'l-maqamat, pp. 5-14; Hazaratu'l-quds, Tashkent MS., ff. 206b-12a; Hazaratu'l-quds, Urdu translation, pp. 213-21.
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ed by two young sons who continued to promote the Ahrariyya teachings of the Naqshbandiyya order./1
We shall now discuss the most significant aspects of Khwaja Muhammad Baqi's teachings, referring to him by the title (Baqi Bi'llah) under which he was more widely known in later life.
In a ruba'i in which Khwaja Baqi Bi'llah paid tribute to the spiritual perfections of Shaikh Nasiru'd-Din `Ubaidu'llah Ahrar, he invited sufis to follow the Ahrariyya-Naqshbandiyya path, claiming it achieved the nearest to mystic perfection for sufi, and was markedly superior to other paths. The sine qua non of this Tariqa, as mentioned earlier, was the attainment of baqa' (reintegration with the Essence) while strictly following the laws of the Shari'a and nurturing love for the Prophet. Theosophically the Tariqa was to be based on the Wandat al- Wujud of Ibn `Arabi. Fana' (extinction), he reminded sufis, was the annihilation of human qualities or the death of the self. When God illuminated the heart of the devotee from a particle of the theophany of His Essence, his consciousness was transmuted and his being acquired the real state of fana'. In that state both the name and individuality of the devotee disappeared and whatever was attributed to the devotee was in fact reintegrated with the Essence. That stage was known as Baqa' Bi'llah (eternity in Allah). The transmutation into fana' prevented the reappearance of the human attributes in sufis although outwardly they retained their physical existence. A pir guided his disciples towards that stage of mystic development. The experience of Tajalli or the self-manifestation of the Absolute or vision of the Essence was a mystic stage dependant on the ascent of perfect sufis./2
In correspondence Khwaja Baqi Bi'llah wrote that the Tajalli (self-manifestation of the Absolute) of the onward journey along the mystical path was of three types; 1. The outward (suri) self-manifestation of the Absolute perceived by beginners; 2. the spiritual (ma`nawi) self-manifestation of the Absolute perceived by sufis with medium achievements; 3. the true self-manifestation of the Absolute perceived by perfect sufis. The perception of the self-manifestation of the Absolute did not imply the infusion of the Essence into the sufi (hulul) or the identification of the Essence with human nature; it was an unintelligible mystery experienced only by those who had reached the stage of perfection./3
Tauba, the initial aspect of the sufic journey, reiterated the Khwaja, was dissociation from sin, the heaviest veil shielding the mystic path. Sins against the Shari`a came into two categories, venial and heinous.
/1 Zubdatu'l-magamat, pp. 29-31; Hazaratu'l-quds, I, Urdu translation, pp. 259-60, one
of his wives was Qulich Khan's daughter.
/2 Zubdatu'l-magamat, pp. 51-52.
/3 Maktubat-i Khwaja Baqi Bi'llah, MS., personal collection, f. 249b.						
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The Tariqa called on sufis to avoid both, but sin rejection was a preliminary stage only and the negative aspect of the tauba. The positive side of tauba was the removal of all veils and the development of a love for God and gnosis. Commoners repented of their sins but sufis begged forgiveness for their forgetfulness while observing obedience to God and performing such duties as prayers, fasting, payment of zakat, undertaking pilgrimages, crushing their `headstrong souls' and while feeling delight at purifying their souls so as to make them inspired or tranquil./1
The second duty of sufis according to Naqshbandiyyas, said Khwaja Baqi Bi'llah, was zuhd (renunciation). Its preliminary stage was the rejection of greed and the desire for money; the advanced stage would result in the abandonment of desire for this world and the hereafter. The attitude of a zahid (ascetic, also a kind of faqir, or dervish) to the world and its material benefits could be divided into three categories: 1. the greedy who were without wealth but were keen to acquire it; 2. the zahid who requested nothing but when offered wealth seized it; 3. the gani ` (contented) who neither requested nor rejected gifts. The perfect form of renunciation sprang neither from hope of reward nor out of fear but, like Rabi`a's, was unconcerned with either.'
The third requirement of the sufic path was tawakkul (trust in God). The perfect form of tawakkul sprang from a perception of the Unity of Being; the sufi experienced nothing but One. According to sufis this involved the absorption of individuality into the Essence. Although this prompted confidence in God, man should not ignore his own efforts. A child trusted his mother but still cried for milk and a man raised his hand in order to eat. Thus work was essential to engender sufficient strength for prayer and worship but work should never be pet formed to achieve sensual pleasure. Different rules were prescribed for the accumulation of worldly resources and their preservation but the cornerstone of tawakkul was that all resources were designed to strengthen love for God.
The fourth duty of a sufi was qana`at (resignation). Sufis should retain only what was essential for their physical existence, being austere in food, dress and style of living. Beginners along the sufi path accepted only what they needed; those who had reached a middle stage ate only as much as would enable them to stand for namaz, and wore clothes merely for protection from heat and cold. The perfect sufis, that is the muwahhids (followers of the Unity of Being), dissociated themselves completely from the love of anyone other than God./3
The fifth requirement was `uzlat (self-seclusion). Mystics should be in
/1 Malfuzat-i Khwaja Baqi Bi'llah, MS., personal collection, f. 29b.
/2 ibid, ff. 4a-b.
/3 ibid, ff. 5a-7a.
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the company of their family or disciples only when it was indispensable for the welfare of others, for the self-seclusion of perfect sufis was calculated to banish all thoughts except those connected with God from their hearts; they should constantly re-examine the spiritual condition of the heart. Perfect sufis were permitted to mix with people who helped them to promote their spiritual life and guided them on the right path./1
The sixth requirement was sabr (patience), whether or not they achieved mystical illumination. Tawhid or the perception of the Unity of Being was essential to reach the stages of tawakkul, zuhd, qana`at and sabr. These sufic achievements were indispensable to a perfect perception of the Tawhid (Wandat al-Wujud), the final goal of perfect mystics.
Khwaja Baqi Bi'llah in his correspondence discussed the philosophy of Shaikh `Ala'u'd-Daula Simnani (659/1261-736/1336), a vehement exponent of the Wandat al Shuhud /3 (Unity of Perception). The Khwaja believed that Shaikh `Ala'u'd-Daula's perception was based on a perfect consciousness of Unity but that the Shaikh was more dogmatic in his utterances on the transcendence of God than the theologians, affirming that creation was entirely external to God, who commanded attributes and actions. However Khwaja Baqi Bi'llah said that the writings of Ibn `Arabi were just as soundly based on scholarship as on mystical experience and that the two co-existed, although uneasily./4
A week before his death Khwaja Baqi Bi'llah was said to have declared that Tawhid (Wandat al-Wujud) was a narrow lane while the highway for the faithful was different. Such a truth, he added, was confirmed to him through `ayn al-yaqin./5 Although he knew this earlier, at the end of his life, said the Khwaja, he had obtained a different consciousness. However these remarks do not specifically imply the conversion of the Khwaja to the Wandat al-Shuhud, and Shaikh Ahmad Sirhindi believed his pir did not die a follower of the Wandat al-Wujud./6
In his lifetime the Khwaja unrelentingly criticised sufis who he believed to be observing the external form of the Tawhid. They were wayward, he argued, and also misled others by identifying everything with Reality, even believing the universe to be an illusion and fantasy. This type of philosophy, the Khwaja asserted, was followed by sophists but it was not the highroad shown by the prophets. The truth was that which Ibn
/1 Malfuzat-i Khwaja Baqi Bi'llah, f. 13a.
/2 ibid, ff. 13b-16a.
/3 HSI, pp. 248-250.
/4 Maktubat-i Khwaja, f. 27b.
/5 supra, pp. 173-174. According to the Mujaddid the Wandat al-Wujud belonged to
the realm of 'the certainty' obtained through knowledge (`i1m al-yaqin) while the Wandat al-Shuhud belonged to that of certainty obtained through the sight.
/6 Maktubat, 1, no. 43. The authority for the remarks in this letter is Shaikh `Abdu'l-Haqq Muhaddis Dihlawi.
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`Arabi had formulated but which had been misinterpreted. The great Shaikh had affirmed that the universe was contained in the Divine consciousness and that creation was the process of the externalization of that consciousness; all external existence could be compared to the reflections in a mirror which exist and at the same time do not exist, no existence being separate from the Being. In short, the universe is the instrument of the manifestation of the Divine omnipotence and will. Names and attributes are identical with His `ayn (Essence). The Khwaja used another analogy : the central point was the source of the formation of the circle and therefore the circle was shaped only by its relation to the central point. The same analogy applies to the conscious descent of the Essence or Absolute and the emergence of the Universe and the subsequent mystical ascent of the Perfect Man./1
Commenting on the meaning of the Qur'anic verse: `From the evil of the darkness, when it is intense',/2 Khwaja Baqi Bi'llah asserted that the Act of Being was pure good and that evil was a relative concept. Thus he rejected the possibility of the existence of good and evil as two separate identities. To take one example, good may be compared to sun and evil to night. When the rays of the sun were no longer visible night emerged; the sun of course did not disappear, for this illusion was a temporary, relative phenomenon. So it was with evil, which was similar to the relative non-visibility of the sun's rays. This was why men rightly thought their sins and faults were their own creation and were not caused by 'Pure Good'./3
Khwaja Baqi Bi'llah's enthusiasm for the Wandat al-Wujud within the framework of the Shari`a was matched only by the emphasis he placed on humility and self-effacement. The Prophet Muhammad and the Caliph Abu Bakr were taken as paragons of humility and courtesy, and Khwaja Baqi argued that self-conceit was the mightiest obstacle to living a truly mystical life. The Naqshbandiyya pirs concealed their spiritual achievements and were continually engaged in praying to God and giving thanks to Him, and in the recitation of the Qur'an and the performance of namuz. The Khwaja himself was notably courteous and polite in his behaviour, taking responsibility for any errors or sinful behaviour on the part of his disciples. In his khanqah petty bickering was an anathema, and the Khwaja did not consider that he himself was superior to any one. He encouraged people to be pious by quoting allegorical anecdotes./4 Although he helped the deserving, he refused all financial assistance for his dervishes. They were not allowed to perform zikr-i jahr (loud
/1 Zubdatu'I-maga,nat, pp. 36-38.
/2 Qur'an, CXIII, 3. The chapter relates to daybreak and contains five verses.
/3 Zubdatu'I-magamat, p. 45.
/4 Maktubat Khwaja Baqi Bi'Uah, ff. 3b, lib, 21b, 22a.
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zikr) and of course sama' and dancing were taboo. Nevertheless he himself remained in an ecstatic condition./1 His training in zikr was invariably accompanied by the concentration of his own spiritual attention (tawajjuh) upon the individual disciple, enabling him to make rapid progress./2
Khwaja Baqi Bi'llah avoided publicity and initiated only very keen disciples. Nevertheless immediately after his arrival in Delhi a number of outstanding personalities became his disciples. It was mainly due to the fact that his stay in Firuzabad Fort coincided with the return of the imperial camp from the Deccan in August 1601./3 Shaikh Farid Bukhari,/4 naturally accorded a warm welcome to the sufi from the homeland of his ancestors. About the end of 1601 Shaikh Farid was commissioned to eradicate the collection by corrupt officials/5 of unauthorized revenue along the road from Delhi to Lahore. His official duties thus brought him into frequent contact with the Khwaja who wrote several letters to Shaikh Farid. Ghausi Shattari is not exaggerating when he mentions that Farid Bukhari paid all the expenses of the Khwaja's khanqah./6 The Mujaddid also acknowledged the extensive patronage Shaikh Farid Bukhari extended to Khwaja Baqi Bi'llah and his successors./7
In the Mughal empire the distribution of land grants and of charity in cash was the duty of the Sadru's-Sudur, Miran Sadr-i Jahan Pihani,/8 who was unable to ignore a sufi of the Khwaja's eminence and often took his advice in these matters. A letter written by Khwaja Baqi Bi'llah, although it does not specifically identify the recipient, was possibly addressed to the Sadr-i Jahan. It recommended Shaikh Ahmad Sirhindi (the future Mujaddid Alf-i Sani) in these persuasive words :
« There is a man in Sirhind named Shaikh Ahmad. He is very learned and strong in piety. For some days he associated with this Faqir (Baqi Bi'llah) who found his achievements surprisingly impressive. It would seem that he was to be a lamp to brighten the whole universe and I am convinced of his mystical eminence. The brothers and the relations of this Shaikh are all holy men and some of them are known to this supplicant. They are talented and are spiritual gems. The children of the Shaikh are also the embodiment of divine mystery. … In short, however, large families, excessive poverty and unemployment have made their material condition distressing. If some annual cash grant were assigned to the family it would be
/1 Zubdatu'1-magamat, pp. 23-24.
/2 ibid, p. 29.
/3 Akbar-nama, III, p. 794.
/4 MRM, pp. 161-64, 216-28, 248-52, 307-9.
/5 Akbar-nama, III, p. 801.
/6 Gulzar-t abrar, Manchester MS., f. 305b,
/7 Maktubat, I, no. 54 to Shaikh Farid.
/8 MRM, pp. 230-33, 251-52, 93, 96.
most meritorious, and even if it were not exorbitant, it would be a much laudable step. It may be noted that the faqirs are the gateway to Allah./1
Khwaja Baqi Bi'llah made another generous gesture to Shaikh Ahmad. When Miran Sadr-i Jahan requested that the Khwaja teach him zikr and the muraqaba (meditation) of the Naqshbandiyyas, the Khwaja acquiesced as to the former, but advised him to learn muraqaba from Shaikh Ahmad./2
Khwaja Baqi Bi'llah wrote short treatises on his understanding of the Naqshbandiyya-Ahrariyya sufi path, the ideas expressed in them were also included in a series of letters and lectures. However his ecstatic and passionately emotional mysticism is more fully reflected in his poetry. His similes and metaphors were rooted in conventional Wujudi terminology but his sensitivity added a new dimension to the mystical vision. Some of his ruba`is were collected, and his favourite disciple, Shaikh Ahmad Sirhindi (Mujaddid), wrote a detailed commentary (the Sharh-i Ruba`iyat) on some of them.