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UNIVERSAL CLASSICS
LIBRARY
ILLUSTRATED
WITH PHOTOGRAVURES ON
JAPAN VELLUM, ETCHINGS
HAND PAINTED INDIA-PLATE
REPRODUCTIONS, AND
FULL PAGE PORTRAITS
OF AUTHORS.
M WALTER DUNNE, PUBLISHER
NEW YORK & LONDON
COPYRIGHT, 1903,
BY
M. WALTER DUNNE;
PUBLISHER
[Illustration: _THE TOMB OF OMAR_
_From an old painting by an unknown artist_]
THE SUFISTIC QUATRAINS OF
OMAR KHAYYAM
IN DEFINITIVE FORM
INCLUDING THE TRANSLATIONS OF
EDWARD FITZGERALD
(101 quatrains)
With Edward Heron-Allen's Analysis
E.H. WHINFIELD
(500 quatrains)
J.B. NICOLAS
(464 quatrains)
WITH PREFACES BY EACH TRANSLATOR AND A
GENERAL INTRODUCTION DEALING WITH
OMAR'S PLACE IN SUFISM, BY
ROBERT ARNOT, M.A.
Author of "The Vine in Symbolism"
M. WALTER DUNNE, PUBLISHER,
NEW YORK & LONDON
COPYRIGHT, 1903,
BY
M. WALTER DUNNE,
PUBLISHER
ILLUSTRATIONS
FACING
PAGE
THE TOMB OF OMAR _Frontispiece_
From an old painting by an unknown artist.
THE APPROACH TO NAISHAPUR 100
From a painting by I.R. Herbert.
SUFI MYSTICS GATHERED FOR MEDITATION 210
From an old painting by a Pushtu artist.
TABLE OF CONTENTS
PAGE
GENERAL INTRODUCTION xi
INTRODUCTION TO THE FIRST EDITION OF EDWARD FITZGERALD'S
TRANSLATION OF THE QUATRAINS OF OMAR KHAYYAM 1
THE COMPLETE FITZGERALD FIRST EDITION 13
Kuza-Nama 25
Notes 29
AN ANALYSIS OF EDWARD FITZGERALD'S TRANSLATION (FIFTH
EDITION), BY EDWARD HERON-ALLEN 35
Preface 37
Explanation of References 42
Analysis of Edward Fitzgerald's Quatrains 44
Appendix 107
VARIATIONS BETWEEN THE SECOND, THIRD AND FOURTH EDITIONS
OF FITZGERALD'S TRANSLATION 115
Stanzas Which Appear in the Second Edition Only 122
COMPARATIVE TABLE OF STANZAS IN THE FOUR EDITIONS OF
FITZGERALD 124
Note 127
THE QUATRAINS OF OMAR KHAYYAM TRANSLATED BY E.H.
WHINFIELD, M.A. 129
Introduction 131
Note 139
E.H. WHINFIELD TRANSLATION 141
THE QUATRAINS OF OMAR KHAYYAM TRANSLATED INTO PROSE
FROM THE FRENCH VERSION OF MONSIEUR J.B. NICOLAS 267
Preface 269
TRANSLATION OF THE NICOLAS TEXT 279
GENERAL INTRODUCTION
The earliest reference to Omar Khayyam dates from the middle of the
seventh century of the Hijra.[1] Mohammad Shahrazuri, author of a
little-used history of learned men, bearing the title of
«Nazhet-ul-Arwah,» devotes to Khayyam the following passage:
«'Omar Al-Khayyami was a Nishapuri by birth and extraction. He [may be
regarded as] the successor of Abu 'Ali (Avicenna) in the various
branches of philosophic learning; but he was a man of reserved character
and disliked entertaining (_sayyik al-'atan_). While he was in Ispahan
he perused a certain book seven times and then he knew it by heart. On
his return to Nishapur he dictated it [from memory] and on comparing it
with the original copy, it was found that the difference between them
was but slight. He was averse both to composition and to teaching. He is
the author of a handbook on natural science, and of two pamphlets, one
entitled '_Al-Wujud_' (or 'Real Existence') and the other '_Al-Kawn w'al
Taklif_.'[2] He was learned in the law, in classical Arabic, and in
history.
«One day Al-Khayyami went to see the Vezir, Abd-ur-Razzak, the Chief of
the Koran Readers. Abu-l-Hasan Al-Ghazzali was with this latter [at the
time], and the two were discussing the disagreement of the Koran Readers
in regard to a certain verse. [As Omar entered] the Vezir said, 'Here we
have _the_ authority,' and proceeded to ask Al-Khayyami [for his
opinion] on the matter. ['Omar] enumerated the various readings of the
Readers, and explained the grounds (_'ilal_) for each one. He also
mentioned the exceptional readings and the arguments in favor of each,
and expressed his preference for one view in particular.
«Al-Ghazzali then said: 'May God add such men as thee to the number of
the learned! Of a truth, I did not think any one of the Koran Readers
knew the readings by heart to this extent--much less one of the secular
philosophers.'
«As for the sciences, he had mastered both mathematics and philosophy.
One day 'the Proof of Islam', Al-Ghazzali, came to see him and asked him
how it came that one could distinguish one of the parts of the sphere
which revolve on the axis from the rest, although the sphere was similar
in all its parts. Al-Khayyami pronounced his views, beginning with a
certain category; but he refrained from entering deeply into the
discussion--and such was the wont of this respected Sheykh. [Their
conversation was interrupted by] the call to mid-day prayer, whereupon
Al-Ghazzali said, 'Truth has come in, and lying has gone out.' 'Omar
arose and went to visit Sultan Sanjar. The latter was [at the time] a
mere child, and was suffering from an attack of smallpox. When he came
away the Vezir asked him, 'How did you find the child, and what did you
prescribe for him?' 'Omar answered, 'The child is in a most precarious
state.' An Ethiopian slave reported this saying to the Sultan, and when
the Sultan recovered he became inimical to 'Omar and did not like him.
Melik-Shah treated him as a boon companion; and Shams-ul-Mulk honored
him greatly, and made him sit beside him on his throne.
«It is related that ['Omar] was [one day] picking his teeth with a
toothpick of gold, and was studying the chapter on metaphysics from
[Avicenna's] 'Book of Healing.' When he reached the section on 'The One
and the Many' he placed the toothpick between the two leaves, arose,
performed his prayers and made his last injunctions. He neither ate nor
drank anything [that day]; and when he performed the last evening
prayer, he bowed himself to the ground and said as he bowed: 'Oh, God!
verily I have known Thee to the extent of my power: forgive me,
therefore. Verily my knowledge of Thee is my recommendation to Thee.'
And [so saying], he died; may God have pity on him!»
We may look upon Omar as a deeply learned man, following his own
convictions, who, tortured with the question of existence, and finding
no solution to life in Musulman dogmas, worked out for himself a regular
conception of life based on Sufistic Mysticism; a man who, without
discarding belief, smiled ironically at the inconsistencies and
peculiarities of the Islam of his time, which left many minds
dissatisfied in the fourth and fifth centuries, needing as it did
vivification. It found this in the person of Ghazzali, who in this
movement assigned the proper place to the Mystic element. Omar was a
preacher of moral purity and of a contemplative life; one who loved his
God and struggled to master the eternal, the good, and the beautiful.
In this manner also is Omar portrayed in the various early biographical
notices: a defender of «Greek Science,» famous for his knowledge of the
Koran and the Law, and at the same time a «stinging serpent» to the
dogmatic; a wit and a mocker, a bitter and implacable enemy of all
hypocrisy; a man who, while curing others of the wounds of worldly
triviality, impurity, and sinful vanity, himself only with almost his
last breath closed the philosophic book on «Healing» and turned with a
touching prayer to the One God, the Infinite, whom he had been striving
to comprehend with all the strength of his mind and heart. Khayyam's
lively protests and his heated words in freedom's cause brought upon him
many bitter moments in his life and exposed him to numerous attacks at
the hands of the mullahs, especially those of the Shiite community.
Besides these, then as now (apart from hypocrites), persons were not
wanting who, failing to understand Omar, regarded him as an unbeliever,
atheist, and materialist. But in the course of centuries the people of
Persia and India, realizing, perhaps instinctively, the injustice of
former reproaches, have taken to publishing and reading Omar Khayyam in
collections side by side with Abu-Said, Abd-Allah Ansari, and
Attar--that is to say, with Sufi Mystics of the purest water, men whose
moral and religious reputations were spotless.
Rightly to understand Omar some knowledge of Sufism and its tenets is
necessary. Sufism is a mystical doctrine which had its birth on the
Arabian coast, and succeeded in implanting itself there to the point of
putting a decisive check upon the orthodox philosophy. The etymology of
the name is difficult to find. According to some, it comes from the word
_suf_ (wool, a woolen garment) because the first persons to adopt this
doctrine clothed themselves in wool.
We can give, as a proof, in support of this etymology, the fact that the
Persians call their dervishes Sufis, _pechmineh pôch_ (clothed in wool).
The name could also come from the Arabic _safou_ (purity) or the Greek
sophia (wisdom). Again, some Arabic authors call by the name of Soufa an
Arabic tribe that separated themselves from the world in the
ante-Islamic period, consecrating themselves to the keeping of the
temple of Mecca. A man who professed the Mystic principles of _tasawouf_
(the spiritual life) they called a «Sufi.»
The origin of Musulman Mysticism is a question entailing some
controversy, for whoever knows the detailed ritual and the dogmatic
coldness of the Koran finds it impossible to reconcile Islamic dogma
with any idea of Mysticism whatsoever. In vain does one seek to find an
example of Mystical teaching in this aphorism attributed to Mahomet: «It
is when he prays that the faithful one is nearest God,» as Islamism
holds to a definite separation between the Divinity and the world,
between the Creator and the thing created. The religious customs that
Mahomet instituted and the moral action that he taught served only to
merit the good-will of the Divinity; at the utmost he only believed that
he would be permitted to see Him face to face.
Whence comes then this Mystical idea which, for so many centuries, has
occupied all the minds and absorbed all the intellectual force of the
Musulman world? Two different origins can be given for it: the idea of
emanation from and return to the divine essence whence it came--what we
call Neo-platonism. Added to this are Contemplation and Annihilation,
which come to it through Persia and the Vedantic school as
intermediaries, bringing with it Pantheism, which made its way late into
Sufism, and almost solely among the Persians. Also, it could be said
that originally Sufism owed its principles to the Alexandrian school.
The Arabs, who studied and translated the greater part of Aristotle,
knew Plato only by name; but they came under his influence and received
his doctrines, strongly impregnated with the Mysticism of the Kabbala,
through the Alexandrians and especially through Philon. To annihilate
reason, or at least to subordinate it to feeling; to attack liberty, in
order to subject the whole of life to love; and, furthermore, the blind
abandoning of self--such is the aim of Sufism, as it is of all Mystic
philosophy.
The doctrine of the Sufis has been set forth in a great number of
treatises, notably that of Sohrawdi. God alone exists; He is in
everything and everything is in Him. All beings emanate from Him,
without being really distinct from Him. The world exists for all
eternity; the material is only an illusion of the senses. Sufism is the
true philosophy of Islamism, «which is the best of religions,» but
religions have only a relative importance and serve but to guide us
toward the Reality.
God is the author of the acts of the human race; it is He who controls
the will of man, which is _not_ free in its action. Like all animals man
possesses an original mind, an animal or living mind, a mind
instinctive, but he has also a human mind, breathed into him by God, and
of the same character as the original and constructive element itself.
The concomitant mind comprehends the original element and the human
mind; it extends itself over the triple domain: animal, vegetable, and
mineral. The soul, which existed before the body, is confined in the
body as in a cage; death, then is, the object of the Sufi's desires,
since it returns him to the bosom of the Divinity. This metempsychosis
permits the soul which has not fulfilled its destiny here below to be
purified and worthy of a re-union with God. This spiritual union all can
strive for ardently, but all cannot attain, because it is a product of
the grace of God.
The Sufi, during his sojourn in the body, is uniquely occupied in
meditating upon his unity with God (_Wahdanija_), the reminiscence of
the names of God (_Zikr_), and the progressive advancement in the
_tarika_ or journey of life, up to his unification with God.
What is the Sufi journey, then? Human life has been likened to a voyage,
where the traveler is seeking after God. The aim of the voyage is to
attain to a knowledge of God, for human existence is a period of
banishment for the soul, which cannot return to God until it has passed
through many successive stages. The natural state of man is called
_nasout_ (humanity); the disciple should observe the law and conform to
all the rites of believers. The other stages are: the nature of the
angels (_malakout_), where one follows the way to purity, the possession
of power (_djabrout_), the degree to which knowledge corresponds
(_m'arifa_), and finally, extinction or absorption in the Deity, the
degree to which truth corresponds. The voyager agrees to renouncement,
which is of two kinds: external and internal. The first is the
renouncement of riches and worldly honors; the second is the
renouncement of profane desires. And he should especially guard against
idolatry, which for some is the adoration of worldly achievement, for
others a too assiduous practice of praying and fasting.
To arrive at this aim, the voyager has three necessary aids: attraction
(_indïïdhah_), the act of God which draws all men who have that tendency
or inclination to Him; devotion (_ibâda_), continuing the journey by two
roads--towards God and in God, the first limited, the second without
limit; finally, elevation (_ouroudi_). But the voyage cannot be
accomplished alone; it is necessary to have a guide or a monitor taken
from the second class (_ibâda_). The believer who, after having been
_tâlib_ (an educated man doubting the reality of God) and _mourid_
(desirous of following out his quest), becomes a _salik_ (traveler),
places himself under the authority of a Sufi guide who teaches him to
serve God until, through divine influence, he attains to the _ichk_
(love) stage. Divine love, removing all mundane desires from his heart,
causes him to arrive at _zouhd_ (isolation); he then leads a
contemplative life, passes through the _m'arifa_ degree, and awaits the
direct illumination of _wadja_ (ecstasy).
After having received a revelation of the true nature of God (the
_hakika_ stage) he arrives at the _wasl_ stage (union with God); he
cannot go further; death alone remains, by which he will arrive at the
final degree, absorption in the Divinity. The _Zikr_ are only various
forms of devotion invented by the Sufi guides to develop the spiritual
life. The conduct of the disciple in the presence of his master is
determined by rules which differ little from those imposed upon all
dervishes.
Some authors distinguish, in the Sufi voyage, seven stages,
corresponding to the degrees in the celestial sphere, in order to have
the soul received there after death. But, protest metaphysicians, the
soul cannot return to a determined place, since it does not come from a
determined place. Celestial intelligence, to which corresponds the
degree of intelligence reached by man, will absorb the soul after its
separation from the body.
The Sufis attribute a high antiquity to their doctrines. They do not
hesitate to refer them to as far back as Abraham; they pretend that one
of the founders of their sect was own son-in-law to the prophet Ali, son
of Abou-Tâlib. Finally, «there came a pious woman from Jerusalem, by the
name of Rabia, whose words recall the Christian Mysticism.»
The first person to take the name of Sufi was Abou-Hachim of Koufa. The
first convent or _Khanakah_ was founded in Khorasan by Abou-Said, the
Persian, although the prophet had prohibited monkish life in Islam.
Another convent was established at Ramia, in Syria, and Saladin founded
one in Egypt. Sufism then was divided into two schools: The Persian
Bestâmi (A.D. 875) inclined towards Pantheism; Djonaid, of Bagdad,
preached a system reconcilable with Musulman dogmatism. One of the most
celebrated doctors of this school was Halladj, burnt alive in A.D. 922.
They discoursed upon Sufism under the Kalifs Al-Motazz and Al-Mohtadi,
and preached it under Al-Motamid. The principal Sufi writers are:
Mohammed Salami an Nichabouri (A.D. 1021), El-Kochairi (A.D. 1072),
Ghazli (A.D. 1111), Sohrawdi (A.D. 1234), Ferid-ed-din Attar (A.D.
1230), Djami (A.D. 1492), and Ech-Cha'rani (A.D. 1565).
This Mysticism, so sweet and so full of sentiment, exhales itself in
poesy, and is as much stamped with tenderness and resignation as it is
overflowing with sensuality and drunkenness. The best and most
illustrious of the Persian poets are of this sect: Djelal-ed-din
er-Roumi, author of the «_Mesnewi_», Djami, author of «_Salaman
ou-Absa_», Ferid-ed-din Attar, author of «_Mantik-ut-tair_»; S'adi,
Hafiz de Chiraz, Bayazid-al-Bestami.
Just as Sufis leave the true faith for its semblance, so they also
exchange the external features of all things for the internal (the
corporeal for the spiritual) and give a spiritual significance to
outward forms. They behold objects of a precious nature in their natural
character, and for this reason, the greater part of their words have a
spiritual and visionary meaning.
For instance, when, like Omar, they mention wine, they mean a knowledge
of God, which, extensively considered, is the love of God. Wine, viewed
extensively, is also love: love and affection are here the same thing.
The wine-shop with them means the _murshid i kiamil_ (spiritual
director), for his heart is said to be the depository of the love of
God; the wine-cup is the _telkin_ (the pronunciation of the name of God
in a declaration of faith as: There is no God but Allah), or it
signifies the words which flow from the _murshid's_ mouth respecting
divine knowledge, and which, heard by the _salik_ (the Dervish, or one
who pursues the true path), intoxicates his soul, and divests his mind
(of passions) giving him pure, spiritual delight.
The sweetheart or Beloved means the preceptor, because, when any one
sees his beloved he admires her proportions, with a heart full of love.
The Dervish beholds the secret knowledge of God which fills the heart
of his spiritual preceptor (_murshid_), and through it receives a
similar inspiration, and acquires a full perception of all that he
possesses, just as the pupil learns from his master. As the lover
delights in the presence of his sweetheart, so the Dervish rejoices in
the company of his beloved preceptor. The sweetheart is the object of a
worldly affection; but the preceptor commands a spiritual attachment.
The curls or ringlets of the beloved are the grateful praises of the
preceptor, tending to bind the affections of the Dervish-pupil; the
moles on her face signify that when the pupil, at times, beholds the
total absence of all worldly wants on the part of the preceptor, he also
abandons all the desires of both worlds--he, perhaps, even goes so far
as to desire nothing else in life than his preceptor; the furrows on the
brow of the beloved one, which they compare to verses of the Koran, mean
the light of the heart of the _murshid_: they are compared to the verses
of the Koran, because the attributes of God, in accordance with the
injunction of the Prophet: «Be ye endued with divine qualities,» are
possessed by the sheikh (or _murshid_).
Perhaps I can do no better than to quote one of the foremost authorities
on Sufism[3] in regard to Omar's teachings.
«Seldom has a poet suffered from his friends and his foes as has Omar
Khayyam. 'He has been regarded,' says a writer, 'as a free-thinker, a
subverter of faith; an atheist and materialist; a pantheist and a
scoffer at Mysticism; an orthodox Musulman; a true philosopher, a keen
observer, a man of learning; a _bon vivant_, a profligate, a dissembler
and a hypocrite, and a blasphemer--nay, more, an incarnate negation of
positive religion and of all moral beliefs; a gentle nature, more given
to the contemplation of things divine than worldly enjoyments; an
epicurean sceptic; the Persian Abu-l-Ala, Voltaire, and Heine in one.'
The writer has in view the well-known criticisms of Von Hammer, Renan,
Ellis, Nicolas, Garcin de Tassy, Whinfield, Aug. Muller, etc. He might
have added Vedder's curious misunderstanding of the 'Beloved,' making
him a damsel and a playtoy, and the thousand and one small ideas set
forth by Omarian Societies.
«All this criticism is curious because it is so completely out of
harmony with the facts of Omar's life. It is true that no complete,
authentic manuscript of Omar's is known, and equally true that no
comprehensive biography is known; but detailed information has come down
to us from his contemporaries. From these notes enough can be gathered
to show that Omar was a great man indeed, one who clearly and forcibly
shows the four sides of a perfect character.
«A perfect character is first and fundamentally powerful. It is based
upon the One, be it in idea or in action. Next, it is so simple and
direct that all extraneous thoughts and purposes are unknown to it.
These two sides condition one another. No power without simplicity and
no directness without power. The third side of a great character is love
or human feeling; a fullness that seeks to draw all men to the One, and
the fourth and last characteristic is harmony or a welding together into
One of all these four. The last characteristic is, of course, an
impossibility where the others do not exist; nor can the others attain
any vividness or fullness without love.
«A perfect character is rare. We see, however, glimpses of it here and
there. Omar Khayyam was a type of perfect character. He is full of the
One; he knows of nothing but the One; he burns to draw his fellow-men to
the One; he belongs nowhere but in the One, in whom he indeed can be
said to move, live, and have his being. In the One he attained
Wholeness, harmony. Omar's philosophy is that of the Sufis. In that,
too, he is consistent. The one is Truth; Truth is the reality of things,
Truth burns to draw men to Itself; Truth is the Law or 'Universe.' His
method is Symbolism, viz.: he chooses the transparencies of Nature in
order to show his hearers how Truth or Wisdom and Love or Devotion
everywhere appear to be the reality behind 'the magic Shadow-shapes
that come and go.' His most prominent symbols are Wine and Love; Roses,
Springtime, and Death.
«Omar's ethics are not those of Mohammedanism. He advocates Resignation,
to be sure, but not Mohammedan fatalism as popularly understood. His
morals spring from his conception of the fullness of the One, and as
such they are in harmony with the most universal notions of mankind. In
one word, Omar's theology, philosophy, method, and morals are Sufistic,
Sufism taken in the highest sense as the unifying notion for Wholeness,
Love, Truth, and Power. A study of Sufism will reveal the real
Omar--hitherto but little known, if known at all.
* * * * *
«No one has attempted, so far as I know, to classify the various
Sufistic systems. It is not so difficult to do so when a key can be
found to them. The best key is that four-foldness which manifests itself
in all human character, endeavor, and work. Corresponding to the
four-foldness of character delineated above, I shall now take the terms
Life, Love, Light, and Law and say that Al-Ghazzali and Jelaladdin
represent the first and, as a proof, point to their constant emphasis of
will as being the dominant power of existence, and the prominence they
give to moral worth. The type of Love, in the form of poetry and
feeling, is represented by Hafiz and Jami. The third group is fully and
completely filled by Shabistani, the author of 'Gulshan-i-Raz.' It is
Light, and its form is Philosophy, Truth, and Understanding. The last,
the fourth, sums up in a measure, the three preceding, and is also a
clearly defined group by itself. It is Law, Order, Unity, and Reality.
There is more independence in it than in any of the others, because it
is the nearest approach known in existence to Wholeness or Unity. It
contains the opposites of existence, both cosmic and human, viz.: the
protest of the Mystic and also his affirmation, and the new Hope he
represents.
«Omar Khayyam belongs to this fourth group. I do not say he alone fills
it. But he exhibits that Independence and Protest which is the first and
outward characteristic of it. He is also from time to time soaring into
the realms of the Truth or Unity, in a way not found in any other Sufi
poet or doctor.
«Under the garb of the Mystic's favorite method of Doubt and Protest,
the Sufi (Omar) pictures the process of the Awakening of the Soul. That
is the purpose of the 'Magic Shadow-shapes that come and go' in the
Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam. His pictures are sufficiently transparent for
us to see The Reality Behind.
«While so much is claimed for Omar, it must not be forgotten that it has
not been said that he is the only perfect Sufi. It is not our intention
to say or to intimate that. Omar is great enough when we attribute to
him the office of an Awakener; not merely that of a John the Baptist,
but the office of one who is himself full of the Awakening he preaches.
Such an one is a unique character, and is truly an At-oner, one who
heals all wounds and binds up broken limbs.»
I have already stated, if not in actual words, at least by inference,
that Khayyam's philosophical and religious opinions were in certain
essential points based upon the teaching of the Vedantas. He must have
been familiar with the general scope of their philosophy, although
attaching himself, as we have seen, to the ranks of the Sufi Mystics.
Sufism and Babism are probably the most widely spread doctrines current
in modern Persia, and after all are but forms of Vedantic pantheism
despoiled of real significance by the effort to accommodate themselves
to the creed of Islam. We learn from El Kifti that Khayyam «exhorted to
the seeking of the One, the Ruler, by the purification of bodily
movements, for the cleansing of the human soul,» an unmistakable
exposition of Sufi practices, although based originally upon the customs
of the Vedantic sages.
He certainly did not practice asceticism and other quasi-religious
forms, which had been grafted upon the austere simplicity of the
original Vedantic creed, but he did inculcate the necessity of acquiring
«the knowledge of the unity of the soul with God»--the one thing
important--which can only be achieved by the renouncement of desire,
the purification of the soul from the lusts of the world, and the
practice of kindliness, goodness, universal sympathy with mankind, and
the patience which brings perfect work.
That Omar was a man of many moods is evident. His poetic faculties,
acted upon by an intelligence that was profound, and by a wit as cutting
as the _tulwar_ of a Persian soldier, swayed him hither and thither upon
the sea of daily doubts and fears which are part of man's existence.
Yet, in his way, he was a beacon light, not only in the history of Sufi
Mysticism, but in the annals of God-seeking. I can find no better
yoke-fellow for him than Luther, like whom he was indeed an Apostle of
Protest.
Robert Arnot
THE FIRST EDITION OF
EDWARD FITZGERALD'S TRANSLATION
OF THE
QUATRAINS OF OMAR KHAYYAM
OMAR KHAYYAM
THE
ASTRONOMER-POET OF PERSIA
Omar Khayyam was born at Naishapur in Khorassan in the latter half of
our eleventh, and died within the first quarter of our twelfth Century.
The slender story of his life is curiously twined about that of two
other very considerable figures in their time and country: one of whom
tells the story of all three. This was Nizam ul Mulk, Vizyr to Alp
Arslan the son, and Malik Shah the grandson, of Toghrul Beg the Tartar,
who had wrested Persia from the feeble successor of Mahmud the Great,
and founded that Seljukian Dynasty which finally roused Europe into the
Crusades. This Nizam ul Mulk, in his «_Wasiyat_»--or «Testament»--which
he wrote and left as a memorial for future statesmen--relates the
following, as quoted in the «Calcutta Review,» No. lix., from Mirkhond's
«History of the Assassins.»
«'One of the greatest of the wise men of Khorassan was the Imam Mowaffak
of Naishapur, a man highly honoured and reverenced--may God rejoice his
soul; his illustrious years exceeded eighty-five, and it was the
universal belief that every boy who read the Koran or studied the
traditions in his presence, would assuredly attain to honour and
happiness. For this cause did my father send me from Tus to Naishapur
with Abd-us-samad, the doctor of law, that I might employ myself in
study and learning under the guidance of that illustrious teacher.
Towards me he ever turned an eye of favour and kindness, and as his
pupil I felt for him extreme affection and devotion, so that I passed
four years in his service. When I first came there, I found two other
pupils of mine own age newly arrived, Hakim Omar Khayyam, and the
ill-fated Ben Sabbah. Both were endowed with sharpness of wit and the
highest natural powers; and we three formed a close friendship together.
When the Imam rose from his lectures, they used to join me, and we
repeated to each other the lessons we had heard. Now Omar was a native
of Naishapur, while Hasan Ben Sabbah's father was one Ali, a man of
austere life and practice, but heretical in his creed and doctrine. One
day Hasan said to me and to Khayyam, «It is a universal belief that the
pupils of the Imam Mowaffak will attain to fortune. Now, even if we
_all_ do not attain thereto, without doubt one of us will, what then
shall be our mutual pledge and bond?» We answered, «Be it what you
please.»--«Well,» he said, «let us make a vow, that to whomsoever this
fortune falls, he shall share it equally with the rest, and reserve no
pre-eminence for himself.»--«Be it so,» we both replied, and on those
terms we mutually pledged our words. Years rolled on, and I went from
Khorassan to Transoxiana, and wandered to Ghazni and Cabul; and when I
returned, I was invested with office, and rose to be administrator of
affairs during the Sultanate of Sultan Alp Arslan.'
«He goes on to state, that years passed by, and both his old
school-friends found him out, and came and claimed a share in his good
fortune, according to the school-day vow. The Vizier was generous and
kept his word. Hasan demanded a place in the government, which the
Sultan granted at the Vizier's request; but, discontented with a gradual
rise, he plunged into the maze of intrigue of an Oriental court, and,
failing in a base attempt to supplant his benefactor, he was disgraced
and fell. After many mishaps and wanderings, Hasan became the head of
the Persian sect of the _Ismailians_--a party of fanatics who had long
murmured in obscurity, but rose to an evil eminence under the guidance
of his strong and evil will. In A.D. 1090, he seized the castle of
Alamut, in the province of Rudbar, which lies in the mountainous tract
south of the Caspian Sea; and it was from this mountain home he obtained
that evil celebrity among the Crusaders as the OLD MAN OF THE MOUNTAINS,
and spread terror through the Mohammedan world; and it is yet disputed
whether the word _Assassin_, which they have left in the language of
modern Europe as their dark memorial, is derived from the _hashish_, or
opiate of hemp-leaves (the Indian _bhang_), with which they maddened
themselves to the sullen pitch of Oriental desperation, or from the name
of the founder of the dynasty, whom we have seen in his quiet collegiate
days, at Naishapur. One of the countless victims of the Assassin's
dagger was Nizam ul Mulk himself, the old school-boy friend.[4]
«Omar Khayyam also came to the Vizier to claim his share; but not to ask
for title or office. 'The greatest boon you can confer on me,' he said,
'is to let me live in a corner under the shadow of your fortune, to
spread wide, the advantages of Science, and pray for your long life and
prosperity.' The Vizier tells us, that, when he found Omar was really
sincere in his refusal, he pressed him no further, but granted him a
yearly pension of 1200 _mithkals_ of gold, from the treasury of
Naishapur.»
«At Naishapur thus lived and died Omar Khayyam, 'busied,' adds the
Vizier, 'in winning knowledge of every kind, and especially in
Astronomy, wherein he attained to a very high pre-eminence. Under the
Sultanate of Malik Shah he came to Merv, and obtained great praise for
his proficiency in science, and the Sultan showered favours upon him.'
«When Malik Shah determined to reform the calendar, Omar was one of the
eight learned men employed to do it; the result was the _Jalali_ era (so
called from _Jalal-ud-din_ one of the king's names)--'a computation of
time,' says Gibbon, 'which surpasses the Julian, and approaches the
accuracy of the Gregorian style.' He is also the author of some
astronomical tables, entitled '_Ziji-Malik-skahi,'»_ and the French have
lately republished and translated an Arabic treatise of his on algebra.
«His Takhallus or poetical name (Khayyam) signifies a Tentmaker, and he
is said to have at one time exercised that trade, perhaps before Nizam
ul Mulk's generosity raised him to independence. Many Persian poets
similarly derive their names from their occupations; thus we have Attar,
'a druggist,' Assar, 'an oil presser,' etc.[5] Omar himself alludes to
his name in the following whimsical lines:--
«'Khayyam, who stitched the tents of science,
Has fallen in grief's furnace and been suddenly burned;
The shears of Fate have cut the tent ropes of his life,
And the broker of Hope has sold him for nothing!'
«We have only one more anecdote to give of his life, and that relates to
the close; it is told in the anonymous preface which is sometimes
prefixed to his poems; it has been printed in the Persian in the
appendix to Hyde's 'Veterum Persarum Religio,' p. 499; and D'Herbelot
alludes to it in his _Bibliothèque_, under _Khiam_:[6]--
«'It is written in the chronicles of the ancients that this King of the
Wise, Omar Khayyam, died at Naishapur in the year of the Hegira 517
(A.D. 1123); in science he was unrivalled,--the very paragon of his age.
Khwajah Nizami of Samarcand, who was one of his pupils, relates the
following story: «I often used to hold conversations with my teacher
Omar Khayyam, in a garden; and one day he said to me, 'My tomb shall be
in a spot where the north wind may scatter roses over it.' I wondered at
the words he spake, but I knew that his were no idle words.[7] Years
after, when I chanced to revisit Naishapur, I went to his final
resting-place, and lo! it was just outside a garden, and trees laden
with fruit stretched their boughs over the garden wall, and dropped
their flowers upon his tomb, so that the stone was hidden under them.»'»
Thus far--without fear of trespass--from the «Calcutta Review.» The
writer of it, on reading in India this story of Omar's grave, was
reminded, he says, of Cicero's account of finding Archimedes' tomb at
Syracuse, buried in grass and weeds. I think Thorwaldsen desired to have
roses grow over him; a wish religiously fulfilled for him to the present
day, I believe. However, to return to Omar.
Though the Sultan «shower'd favours upon him,» Omar's Epicurean audacity
of thought and speech caused him to be regarded askance in his own time
and country. He is said to have been especially hated and dreaded by the
Sufis, whose practice he ridiculed, and whose faith amounts to little
more than his own, when stript of the Mysticism and formal recognition
of Islamism under which Omar would not hide. Their poets, including
Hafiz, who are (with the exception of Firdausi) the most considerable in
Persia, borrowed largely, indeed, of Omar's material, but turning it to
a mystical use more convenient to themselves and the people they
addressed; a people quite as quick of doubt as of belief; as keen of
bodily sense as of intellectual; and delighting in a cloudy composition
of both, in which they could float luxuriously between heaven and earth,
and this world and the next, on the wings of a poetical expression, that
might serve indifferently for either Omar was too honest of heart as
well as of head for this. Having failed (however mistakenly) of finding
any Providence but destiny, and any world but this, he set about making
the most of it; preferring rather to soothe the soul through the senses
into acquiescence with things as he saw them, than to perplex it with
vain disquietude after what they _might_ be. It has been seen, however,
that his worldly ambition was not exorbitant; and he very likely takes a
humorous or perverse pleasure in exalting the gratification of sense
above that of the intellect, in which he must have taken great delight,
although it failed to answer the questions in which he, in common with
all men, was most vitally interested.
For whatever reason, however, Omar, as before said, has never been
popular in his own country, and therefore has been but scantily
transmitted abroad. The MSS. of his Poems, mutilated beyond the average
casualties of Oriental transcription, are so rare in the East as scarce
to have reached westward at all, in spite of all the acquisitions of
arms and science. There is no copy at the India House, none at the
Bibliothèque Nationale of Paris. We know but of one in England: No. 140
of the Ouseley MSS. at the Bodleian, written at Shiraz, A.D. 1460. This
contains but 158 Rubaiyat. One in the Asiatic Society's Library at
Calcutta (of which we have a copy) contains (and yet incomplete) 516,
though swelled to that by all kinds of repetition and corruption. So Von
Hammer speaks of _his_ copy as containing about 200, while Dr. Sprenger
catalogues the Lucknow MS. at double that number.[8] The scribes, too,
of the Oxford and Calcutta MSS. seem to do their work under a sort of
protest; each beginning with a tetrastich (whether genuine or not),
taken out of its alphabetical order; the Oxford with one of apology; the
Calcutta with one of expostulation, supposed (says a notice prefixed to
the MS.) to have arisen from a dream, in which Omar's mother asked about
his future fate. It may be rendered thus--
«Oh Thou who burn'st in Heart for those who burn
In Hell, whose fires thyself shall feed in turn;
How long be crying, 'Mercy on them, God!'
Why, who art Thou to teach, and He to learn?»
The Bodleian quatrain pleads Pantheism by way of Justification.
«If I myself upon a looser Creed
Have loosely strung the Jewel of Good Deed,
Let this one thing for my Atonement plead:
That One for Two I never did mis-read.»
The reviewer,[9] to whom I owe the particulars of Omar's life, concludes
his review by comparing him with Lucretius, both as to natural temper
and genius, and as acted upon by the circumstances in which he lived.
Both indeed were men of subtle, strong, and cultivated intellect, fine
imagination, and hearts passionate for truth and justice; who justly
revolted from their country's false religion, and false, or foolish,
devotion to it, but who fell short of replacing what they subverted by
such better _hope_ as others, with no better revelation to guide them,
had yet made a law to themselves. Lucretius, indeed, with such material
as Epicurus furnished, satisfied himself with the theory of a vast
machine fortuitously constructed, and acting by a law that implied no
legislator; and so composing himself into a Stoical rather than
Epicurean severity of attitude, sat down to contemplate the mechanical
drama of the Universe which he was part actor in; himself and all about
him (as in his own sublime description of the Roman Theatre) discolored
with the lurid reflex of the curtain suspended between the spectator
and the sun. Omar, more desperate, or more careless of any so
complicated system as resulted in nothing but hopeless necessity, flung
his own genius and learning with a bitter or humorous jest into the
general ruin which their insufficient glimpses only served to reveal;
and, pretending sensual pleasure as the serious purpose of life, only
_diverted_ himself with speculative problems of Deity, Destiny, Matter
and Spirit, Good and Evil, and other such questions, easier to start
than to run down, and the pursuit of which becomes a very weary sport at
last!
With regard to the present translation. The original Rubaiyat (as,
missing an Arabic guttural, these _Tetrastichs_ are more musically
called) are independent stanzas, consisting each of four lines of equal,
though varied, prosody; sometimes _all_ rhyming, but oftener (as here
imitated) the third line a blank. Somewhat as in the Greek alcaic, where
the penultimate line seems to lift and suspend the wave that falls over
in the last. As usual with such kind of Oriental verse, the Rubaiyat
follow one another according to alphabetic rhyme--a strange succession
of grave and gay. Those here selected are strung into something of an
eclogue, with perhaps a less than equal proportion of the «Drink and
make-merry» which (genuine or not) recurs over-frequently in the
original. Either way the result is sad enough: saddest perhaps when most
ostentatiously merry: more apt to move sorrow than anger toward the old
Tentmaker, who, after vainly endeavouring to unshackle his steps from
destiny, and to catch some authentic glimpse of TO-MORROW, fell back
upon TO-DAY (which has outlasted so many TO-MORROWS!) as the only ground
he had got to stand upon, however momentarily slipping from under his
feet.
While the second Edition of this version of Omar was preparing, M.
Nicolas, French Consul at Resht, published a very careful and very good
edition of the text, from a lithograph copy at Teheran, comprising 464
Rubaiyat, with translation and notes of his own.
M. Nicolas, whose edition has reminded me of several things, and
instructed me in others, does not consider Omar to be the material
Epicurean that I have literally taken him for, but a Mystic, shadowing
the Deity under the figure of wine, wine-bearer, etc., as Hafiz is
supposed to do; in short, a Sufi Poet like Hafiz and the rest.
I cannot see reason to alter my opinion, formed as it was more than a
dozen years ago[10] when Omar was first shown me by one to whom I am
indebted for all I know of Oriental, and very much of other, literature.
He admired Omar's genius so much, that he would gladly have adopted any
such interpretation of his meaning as M. Nicolas' if he could.[11] That
he could not, appears by his paper in the «Calcutta Review» already so
largely quoted; in which he argues from the Poems themselves, as well as
from what records remain of the Poet's Life.
And if more were needed to disprove M. Nicolas' theory, there is the
Biographical Notice which he himself has drawn up in direct
contradiction to the interpretation of the Poems given in his notes.
Indeed I hardly knew poor Omar was so far gone till his apologist
informed me. For here we see that, whatever were the wine that Hafiz
drank and sang, the veritable juice of the grape it was which Omar used,
not only when carousing with his friends, but (says M. Nicolas) in order
to excite himself to that pitch of devotion which others reached by
cries and «hurlemens.» And yet, whenever wine, wine-bearer, etc., occur
in the text--which is often enough--M. Nicolas carefully annotates
«_Dieu_,» «_La Divinité_,» etc.: so carefully indeed that one is tempted
to think that he was indoctrinated by the Sufi with whom he read the
Poems. A Persian would naturally wish to vindicate a distinguished
countryman: and a Sufi to enrol him in his own sect, which already
comprises all the chief poets in Persia.
What historical authority has M. Nicolas to show that Omar gave himself
up «_avec passion à l'étude de la philosophie des Soufis_»? The
doctrines of Pantheism, Materialism, Necessity, etc., were not peculiar
to the Sufi; nor to Lucretius before them; nor to Epicurus before him;
probably the very original irreligion of thinking men from the first;
and very likely to be the spontaneous growth of a philosopher living in
an age of social and political barbarism, under shadow of one of the
Two-and-Seventy Religions supposed to divide the world. Von Hammer
(according to Sprenger's «Oriental Catalogue») speaks of Omar as «a
Free-thinker and _a great opponent of Sufism_»; perhaps because, while
holding much of their doctrine, he would not pretend to any inconsistent
severity of morals. Sir W. Ouseley has written a note to something of
the same effect on the fly-leaf of the Bodleian MS. And in two Rubaiyat
of M. Nicolas' own Edition Suf and Sufi are both disparagingly named.
No doubt many of these Quatrains seem unaccountable unless mystically
interpreted; but many more as unaccountable unless literally. Were the
Wine spiritual, for instance, how wash the Body with it when dead? Why
make cups of the dead clay to be filled with--«_La Divinité_»--by some
succeeding Mystic? M. Nicolas himself is puzzled by some «_bizarres_»
and «_trop Orientales_» allusions and images--«_d'une sensualité
quelquefois révoltante_» indeed--which «_les convenances_» do not permit
him to translate; but still which the reader cannot but refer to «_La
Divinité_».[12] No doubt also many of the Quatrains in the Teheran, as
in the Calcutta, Copies, are spurious; such _Rubaiyat_ being the common
form of epigram in Persia. But this, at best, tells as much one way as
another; nay, the Sufi, who may be considered the scholar and man of
letters in Persia, would be far more likely than the careless epicure to
interpolate what favours his own view of the poet. I observe that very
few of the more mystical Quatrains are in the Bodleian MS. which must be
one of the oldest, as dated at Shiraz, A.H. 865, A.D. 1460. And this, I
think, especially distinguishes Omar (I cannot help calling him by
his--no, not Christian--familar name) from all other Persian poets:
That, whereas with them the poet is lost in his song, the man in
allegory and abstraction, we seem to have the man--the _bonhomme_--Omar
himself, with all his humours and passions, as frankly before us as if
we were really at table with him, after the wine had gone round.
I must say that I, for one, never wholly believed in the mysticism of
Hafiz. It does not appear there was any danger in holding and singing
Sufi Pantheism, so long as the poet made his salaam to Mohammed at the
beginning and end of his song. Under such conditions Jelaluddin, Jami,
Attar, and others sang; using wine and beauty indeed as images to
illustrate, not as a mask to hide, the Divinity they were celebrating.
Perhaps some allegory less liable to mistake or abuse had been better
among so inflammable a people: much more so when, as some think with
Hafiz and Omar, the abstract is not only likened to, but identified
with, the sensual Image; hazardous, if not to the devotee himself, yet
to his weaker brethren; and worse for the profane in proportion as the
devotion of the initiated grew warmer. And all for what? To be
tantalized with images of sensual enjoyment which must be renounced if
one would approximate a God, who according to the doctrine, _is_ sensual
matter as well as spirit, and into whose universe one expects
unconsciously to merge after death, without hope of any posthumous
beatitude in another world to compensate for all one's self-denial in
this. Lucretius' blind Divinity certainly merited, and probably got, as
much self-sacrifice as this of the Sufi; and the burden of Omar's
song--if not «Let us eat»--is assuredly--«Let us drink, for to-morrow we
die!» And if Hafiz meant quite otherwise by a similar language, he
surely miscalculated when he devoted his life and genius to so equivocal
a psalmody as, from his day to this, has been said and sung by any
rather than spiritual worshippers.