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The Wisdom of the East Series
EDITED BY
L. CRANMER-BYNG
Dr. S. A. KAPADIA
THE AWAKENING OF THE SOUL
_Motto_--
"'Twas what it was, 'tis not to be expressed.
Enquire no further, but conceive the best."
GHAZALI.
WISDOM OF THE EAST
THE AWAKENING
OF THE SOUL
RENDERED FROM THE ARABIC
WITH INTRODUCTION
BY DR. PAUL BRÖNNLE
F.R.G.S., F.R.HIST.S., M.R.A.S., ETC.
[Illustration]
FOURTH IMPRESSION
LONDON
JOHN MURRAY, ALBEMARLE STREET
1910
PRINTED BY
HAZELL, WATSON AND VINEY, LD.,
LONDON AND AYLESBURY.
_To Her Excellency
THE COUNTESS OLGA ÜXKÜLL-GYLLENBAND
Lady-in-Waiting to Her Majesty
The Queen of Wurtemberg
Respectfully dedicated
by
PAUL BRÖNNLE_
CONTENTS
_Page_
INTRODUCTION, 9
Different Accounts of the Birth of Hayy Ibn Yokdhan, 29
Hayy Ibn Yokdhan, son of a Princess, 30
Hayy is exposed by his Mother, 30
Hayy is driven by the tide to another Island, 31
Hayy is found by a Roe, which takes care of him, 31
Spontaneous Generation, 32
Hayy grows up nursed by the Roe, 33
Hayy learns to imitate animals' voices, 34
Hayy begins to take a careful view of things, 34
Hayy observes the difference between the animals and himself, 35
Hayy as a boy of seven. He covers himself with leaves, 36
Hayy becomes aggressive, and attacks wild beasts, 36
Hayy covers himself with the skin of an Eagle, 37
Hayy spreads terror among the beasts, 37
Hayy is grief-stricken at the death of the Roe, 38
Hayy takes an aversion to the dead body, 38
Hayy buries the body of the Roe, 39
Hayy observes divers kinds of living creatures and plants, 39
Hayy discovers Fire kindled by the friction of reeds, 40
THE THIRD SEPTENARY
Hayy makes himself clothes and shoes of the skins of animals, 42
Hayy learns to ride, 43
Hayy examines the nature of bodies, 44
Hayy transfers his thoughts to the heavenly bodies, 46
THE FOURTH SEPTENARY
Hayy ponders over heaven and stars, 47
Hayy finds that the body of heaven is finite, 47
Hayy contemplates sun, moon, and stars, 48
Hayy concludes that the heaven is of a spherical figure, 48
Hayy ponders over the creation of the world, 50
Hayy concludes that the world must have a Creator without
bodily substance, 51
Hayy admires the work of the Creator, 56
FIFTH SEPTENARY
Hayy is completely taken up with the contemplation of the
superior intellectual world, 58
Hayy examines all his senses and faculties, 58
HAYY RETURNS TO THE SENSIBLE WORLD 63
SEVENTH SEPTENARY
Asal and Salaman appear on the scene, 65
Nature and character of Asal and Salaman, 66
Further differences of Asal and Salaman, 66
Asal repairs to Hayy's Island, 67
Hayy and Asal meet, 69
Hayy catches hold of Asal, 70
Hayy and Asal stroke one another, 71
Hayy and Asal try to understand each other, 71
Asal makes Hayy eat of his food, 72
Hayy Ibn Yokdhan at last joins Asal at dinner, but repents
afterwards, 72
Asal becomes Hayy's companion and teacher, 73
Hayy enlightens Asal on his inner life, 74
Asal tells Hayy of the Island from whence he had come, 75
Hayy observes that men are dull, stupid, and brutish, 78
Asal persuades Hayy to follow him to his Island, 79
Hayy and Asal return together to Asal's Island, 79
Hayy begins to teach and instruct Salaman's subjects, 80
Hayy despairs of being able to reform the vulgar crowd, 81
Hayy's philosophical views on the value of this world, 81
Hayy gives up his preachings and teachings, 84
Asal and Hayy return to their Island, 85
Epilogue of the Author, 86
EDITORIAL NOTE
The object of the Editors of this series is a very definite one. They
desire above all things that, in their humble way, these books shall be
the ambassadors of good-will and understanding between East and
West--the old world of Thought and the new of Action. In this endeavour,
and in their own sphere, they are but followers of the highest example
in the land. They are confident that a deeper knowledge of the great
ideals and lofty philosophy of Oriental thought may help to a revival of
that true spirit of Charity which neither despises nor fears the nations
of another creed and colour.
L. CRANMER-BYNG.
S. A. KAPADIA.
THE NORTHBROOK SOCIETY,
21, CROMWELL ROAD,
KENSINGTON, S.W.
INTRODUCTION
It is to two English scholars, father and son, Edward Pococke, senior
and junior, that the world is indebted for the knowledge of one of the
most charming productions Arabian philosophy can boast of.
Generally looked upon as a subject of repulsive aridity, in its strange
combination of the most heterogeneous philosophical systems, devoid of
the grace and charm of attractive style, unbrightened by brilliancy of
wit or spirit, Arabian philosophy has, for centuries past, been subject
to sad and undeserved neglect.
Yet I cannot imagine a better and more eloquent refutation of this
erroneous view than a rendering, in fresh garb, of this romance of Hayy
Ibn Yokdhan, simple and ingenuous, yet fragrant with poetry and withal
fraught with deep philosophical problems the interest in which I wish to
revive.
It was in the year 1671 that there was published by the Oxford
University Press, as one of its first issues of Arabic texts, a book
called, "Philosophus autodidactus," edited by Edward Pococke the son,
together with a Latin translation. It had a preface that bore the
signature of Edward Pococke, the father, and this fact alone was
sufficient to stamp it at once as a work in which vast erudition and
thoroughness of investigation had joined hands--for both these _savants_
were men of wide reputation and brilliant attainments.
England, that has put students of Oriental lore under such large
obligations, has never given to the world a greater Arabic scholar than
Edward Pococke, "the Glory and Ornament of his Age and Nation," the
famous author of the "Specimen historiæ Arabum";[1] a veritable
store-house of historical, scientific, literary, and religious
information, and the equally famous editor of the annals of Eutychius
and of the history of Dynasties by Abul faradj.
[1] This book, by the way, was the first book in Arabic type
which issued from the Oxford University Press, just as his
"Porta Mosis," containing the six Prefatory Discourses of
Maimonides on the Mishna, was the first Hebrew text (in fact
Arabic with Hebrew characters) printed at Oxford.
In the splendid array of famous Arabic scholars the last century has
produced there are only two in England that rank with Edward Pococke on
the same level--two men whose names stand out in bold relief, namely,
Edward William Lane, prince among lexicographers, and William Wright,
the brilliant exponent of the theories of the native Arabic grammarians.
The co-operation of Edward Pococke, the father, in the edition of this
book, "Philosophus autodidactus," was indeed the best recommendation.
To Edward Pococke, the father, is due the honour of having discovered
and unearthed this priceless gem of Arabic philosophical literature,
whilst the son, "the worthy son of so great a father," undertook the
task, by no means an easy one, of editing the Arabic text and furnishing
it with a Latin translation.[2] This Latin translation was undoubtedly
for that time a praiseworthy performance; yet, considering the enormous
strides Oriental science has made during the last centuries, and with
all the new material at hand, we are to-day able to put the philological
groundwork on a more solid basis.
[2] The value of the book was quickly recognised. In a
comparatively short time it quite caught the fancy of the
public--in fact it took the world by storm, and for a long time
it remained greatly in vogue.
In casting about for the work of an Arabian philosopher for the "Wisdom
of the East" Series, I could not think of anything more engaging, more
captivating, than this simple romance.
Unfortunately, for reasons of space, I could not give a translation in
full, but I have given the most interesting parts. On the passages,
however, which I had to leave out, I have dwelt at greater length in
this Introduction. In the translation I have tried to preserve the
_cachet_, the archaic flavour and spirit of the book.
The idea underlying the story is, as Ockley puts it, to show how human
capacity may, unassisted by any external help, attain to the knowledge
of the higher world, and so by degrees find out its dependence upon a
superior Being, the immortality of the soul, and other questions of the
highest importance. In short, it describes the gradual awakening of the
soul, the evolution of an original mind from its first groping in the
dark to the most dazzling heights of philosophical speculation.
The great charm of the book lies in its simplicity and ingenuousness; in
its entire freedom from affectation of style; in the transparent
lucidity of its exposition, which is in pleasant contrast with the
ponderous works of other philosophical writers amongst the Arabs.
Yet with all its ingenuousness, what sustained power of thought, what
depth of philosophical penetration!
Hayy Ibn Yokdhan--this prototype of Robinson Crusoe--truly a pathetic,
yet inspiring figure!
The simple setting of a man, living a solitary life on an Island,
entirely given up to meditation and introspection, is used by our author
as an arena for the display of his philosophical views, which, in
kaleidoscopic transformation, cover the whole range of wisdom of those
times--astronomical, geographical, cosmographic, physiological,--and so
on, the whole picture touched with the wand of the master.
The author of the story, Ibn Tufail, though he is generally not reckoned
among the most prominent in that brilliant array of Arabian philosophers
for whom Spain became the rallying-point in the eleventh and twelfth
centuries, yet his name will outlive centuries. For the romance which he
has given to the world is a work of everlasting beauty, of immortal
freshness; one that will never grow stale in the flight of ages.
Little is known of his private life, which seems to have passed by as
uneventful as that of many of the philosophers and scientists of those
ages.
He was born at Guadix, a little town of Andalusia. After having finished
his education, he became a secretary at Granada, and later on we find
him as Vezir and Physician to Abu Yakub, one of the first
representatives of the dynasty of the Almohades. He died in Morocco, in
1185, leaving, besides his story of Hayy Ibn Yokdhan, only a few poems
of insignificant value; whilst his principal work, the Self-taught
Philosopher, has secured for him immortality.
In the following pages I will endeavour to give a short _résumé_ of this
story, though I am painfully aware of the fact that such an analysis can
scarcely do justice to the beauty of the language nor to the wealth of
philosophical thought and speculation represented therein.
From the outset the atmosphere is created with broad and happy touches.
On an Island in the Indian Ocean, famous for its health-giving
atmosphere, abounding in fruits and inhabitants, Hayy Ibn Yokdhan comes
into this world, as the son of a Princess, who is compelled to expose
the child soon after his birth. The tide carries him to another Island,
where he is found by a roe, that takes pity on him, nurses him like a
mother, and watches over his every movement with tender affection.
Under her care he quickly develops into a fine strapping boy who is not
afraid to venture a passage with wild beasts that dare to oppose him.
After the death of the roe, at which he is grief-stricken, he is wholly
thrown on his own resources. Yet he knows how to look after himself. He
covers himself with leaves of trees, and finds out other ways to keep
himself warm and protected.
As the repairing of the coverings of leaves was very troublesome, he had
a design of taking the tail of some dead beast and wearing it himself;
but when he perceived that all beasts avoided those which were dead of
the same kind, it made him doubt whether it was safe or not. At last, by
chance he found a dead eagle, and observing that none of the beasts
showed any aversion to that carcase, he concluded that this would suit
his purpose, and so he cuts off the wings, the tail, and spreads the
feathers open: then he draws off the skin and divides it into two equal
parts, one of which he wears upon his back; with the other he covers his
breast: the tail he wore behind and the wings were placed upon each arm.
This dress answered different ends: for in the first place it covered
his nakedness, helped to keep him warm, and then it made him so
frightful to the beasts that none of them cared to meddle with him or
come near him.
After awhile he began to make experiments with the body of the roe,
anxious to find out its composition.
He noticed, when he shut his eyes or held anything before him, he could
see nothing at all till this obstacle was removed; and so, when he put
his fingers in his ears that he could not hear till he took them out
again. From which he concluded that all his senses and actions were
liable to obstacles and impediments, upon the removal of which the same
functions returned to their former course.
Now, when he found no visible defect in the external parts of the body
of the roe, and yet at the same time perceived a universal cessation of
its motions, he began to imagine that the hurt from which the roe had
died was hidden in the inward part of the body.
Now he had observed on the bodies of wild beasts and other animals that
all their members were solid, and that there were only three cavities,
viz. the skull, the breast, and belly. He imagined, therefore, that the
part the nature of which he wanted to find out must be in one of these
cavities, and he had a strong persuasion that it was in the middlemost
of them.
And having by this way of reasoning assured himself that the disaffected
part lay in the breast, he resolved to open the breast of the roe; and,
providing himself with sharp flints and splinters of dry cane almost
like knives, he made an incision between the ribs, and, cutting through
the flesh, came to the _Diaphragm_.
When he found this tough and not easily broken, he assured himself that
such a covering must belong to that part for which he was looking out.
After great efforts he succeeded in breaking through, and the first part
he met was the lungs; and at last he found the heart, which he saw
closed with a very strong cover and fastened with strong ligaments and
guarded with a membrane.
On finding the same membrane on the inside of the ribs, and the lungs in
the same posture as on the other side which he had opened first, he
concluded the heart to be the part he looked for. When, however, he
found that the being which had dwelt there before, had left its house
before it fell to ruin, and forsaken it, the whole body seemed to him an
inconsiderable thing.
Then his mind was perplexed with a variety of thoughts as to its
substance and subsistence, the reason of its departure, etc. After much
deliberation, at last he found that from that part of the heart which
had departed proceeded all those actions by which the roe had shown her
care of him and her affection,--that the body was only as an instrument
or tool, like his cudgel with which he used to fight with the wild
beasts. Thus all his regard for the body was over and transferred to
that by which the body is governed, and by whose power it moves. So he
decides in the end to bury the body.
After its burial, the impression of his loneliness and of his dependence
upon himself being deepened, he quickly develops his faculties. In a
short time he becomes an expert in different sports, as hunting and
fishing. He makes himself clothes and shoes of the skins of wild beasts.
By the observations he made upon the swallows' nests, being taught the
art of building, he builds with his hands a room for his own use, a
store-house, and a pantry. Then he contrives to make some wild horses so
tractable that he can use them for riding, which is a great help to him
in his expeditions and excursions.
His material existence thus once firmly established and secured, he
begins to indulge in his speculations on all sorts of bodies,--on the
different kinds of animals, plants, minerals and different sorts of
stones, earth, water, exhalations and vapours, ice, snow, hail, smoke,
fire, etc.
By the time he attains to the age of twenty-eight (fourth Septenary),
his mind starts to ponder over astronomical problems--over heaven and
stars, sun and moon; and in the end comes to the conclusion that the
body of heaven is finite and is of a spherical figure.
At last his mind finds itself occupied with the great problem of
Creation and Creator. With admirable skill the author delineates here
the gradual development of Hayy's reasonings on the Creator and Mover of
the world, and concludes with the panegyric words of the Koran: _He is
the Existence, He is the Absoluteness, He is the Perfection, He is the
Beauty, He is the Glory, He is the Power, He is the Knowledge, He is He,
and all Things perish beside Him._
All his thoughts were henceforward confined to the contemplation of this
necessarily self-existent Being. In order to do this, he removed all his
affections from sensible things, shut his eyes, stopped his ears, and
refrained himself as much as possible from following his imagination,
endeavouring to the utmost to think of nothing besides him.
Whilst so, on the one side, the imagination and all the other faculties
which make any use of the organs of the body grew weak; on the other
side, the operations of his essence which did not depend upon the body
grew strong, so that sometimes his meditation was pure and free from any
mixture, and he beheld thereby the necessarily self-existent Being; but
then again corporeal faculties would return upon him and spoil his
contemplation, and bring him down to the lowest degree.
Thus he continued, he opposing his corporeal faculties, and they
opposing him, and mutually struggling one against another. Then, when he
observed that the negative attributes consisted in separation from
bodily things, he began to strip himself of all bodily properties--to
remove and reject all those things from himself, as being in no wise
consistent with that state which he was now in search of.
Thus he continued, confining himself to rest in the bottom of his cave,
with his head bowed down and his eyes shut, and turning himself
altogether from all sensible things and the corporeal faculties, and
turning all his thoughts and meditations upon the _necessarily
self-existent Being_ without admitting anything else besides him: and if
any other object presented itself to his imagination, he rejected it
with his utmost force, and persisted therein to that degree that
sometimes he did neither eat nor stir for many days together.
When he succeeded in preventing the admission of an extraneous object
into that contemplation, he endeavoured as it were to disappear from
himself--to detach himself entirely from his corporeal faculties, so as
to be wholly taken up in the vision of that true Being.
And, thereto when at last he attained both the heaven and the earth, all
spiritual forms and corporeal faculties, and all those powers that are
separate from matter, all disappeared and vanished, and were as if they
had never been. And amongst these his own being disappeared too, till
at last there remained nothing but this _One, True, Perpetually
Self-existent Being_, who spoke thus in that saying of his (the Koran):
To whom now belongs the Kingdom? To this One, the Almighty God.
Thus he deeply immersed himself into this state, and witnessed "that
which neither eye hath seen, nor ear heard, nor hath it ever entered
into the heart of man to conceive."
When he came to himself from that state which was like drunkenness--he
began to think that his own essence did not at all differ from the
essence of that True Being, and that there was nothing in him but this
true essence. It appeared to him that this True, Powerful, and Glorious
Being was not by any means capable of multiplicity, and that his
knowledge of his essence was his very essence, from whence he argued
thus: "He that has the knowledge of this essence, has the essence
itself, but I have the knowledge of this essence. Ergo, I have the
essence itself."
Now Hayy Ibn Yokdhan being wholly immersed in the speculation of those
things, and perfectly abstracted from all other objects, saw in the
highest sphere a Being devoid of any maker; it was like the image of the
sun which appears in a well-polished looking-glass. In the essence of
that separate sphere he saw such perfection, splendour, and beauty, as
is too great to be expressed by any tongue and too subtle to be clothed
in words. It was, as he perceived it, in the utmost perfections of
delight and joy, exaltation of gladness.
The next sphere to it--that of the fixed stars, had an immaterial
essence that was not the essence of that _True one_, nor the essence of
that highest, separated sphere, nor the sphere itself, but like the
image of the sun that is reflected upon a looking-glass from another
glass placed opposite to the sun; and in this essence he observed also
the like splendour, beauty, loveliness, and pleasure that he had
observed in the essence of the other highest sphere; the same splendour
and delight he saw also in other essences. In fact, in all the spheres
he observed immaterial distinct essences of the same kind; he saw such
beauty, splendour, pleasure, and joy as eye has not seen nor ear heard,
until he came to the lower world, subject to generation and corruption,
which comprehends all that is contained within the sphere of the moon.
This essence, immaterial like the rest, had seventy thousand faces, and
every face seventy thousand mouths, and every mouth seventy thousand
tongues, that sanctified and glorified incessantly that One, True Being.
Now, he perceived in his own essence, and in those other ones that were
in the same rank with him, infinite beauty, brightness, and light, such
as neither eye has seen nor ear heard, nor has it entered into man's
heart, which none can describe nor understand, but those which have
attained thereto, and know it by experience.
But, on the other hand, he saw a great many other immaterial essences
that resembled rusty looking-glasses, covered over with filth, and
having their faces marked from those polished looking-glasses that had
the image of the sun imprinted upon them. These essences had so much
filthiness adhering to them, and such manifold defects, as he could not
have conceived. Besides they were afflicted with infinite pains, that
caused incessant sighs and groans; they were compassed with torments and
"scorched with the fiery veil of separation."
Then, when he came to consider the divine essences and heroic spirits,
he found them to be free from body and all its adherents, and removed
from them at the utmost distance, having no connection or dependence
upon them; their sole connection and dependence being that _One True
Necessary Self-existent Being_ who is the beginning and the cause of
their existence.
Now, though the sensible world follows the divine world as a shadow does
the body, and the divine world stands in no need of it and is
independent of it; yet, it is absurd to suppose a possibility of its
being annihilated, because it follows the divine world: but the
corruption of this world consists in its being changed, not annihilated.
And that glorious book (the Koran) spoke, where is no mention made of
"moving the Mountains and making them like the world, and men like
fire-flies, and darkening the Sun and Moon; and eruption of the Sea in
that day when the earth shall be changed into another earth and the
heavens likewise."
This is the substance of what Hayy saw when in his glorious state of
ecstasy.
When _Hayy_, after his digression into the higher world, returned to the
sensible world, he began to loathe the troubles of this mortal life on
earth, and became very anxious to return to the same state he had been
in before.--And by dint of continued exercise and strenuous endeavour he
was at last able to attain to that state whenever his desire drove him
to do so. While in this state he wished that God might detach him
altogether from his body and bodily desires and necessities, so that he
might give himself up for ever to his delight, and be freed from all
grief and pain.
In the meantime he had passed the _Seventh Septenary_, and had attained
to the age of fifty. And then came suddenly the great metamorphosis in
his life, viz. his connection and acquaintanceship with another human
being, called _Asal_.
This came about in the following way:
Not very far from the Island where Hayy passed his days, there was
another Island to which had retired one of those pious sects which
abounded then in that part of the world. Among its votaries were the
most zealous and devoted members, two men, named Asal and Salaman.
Though both were constant in performing those ceremonies prescribed by
the law of this sect, they greatly differed in their character and in
their propensities.
_Asal_, being of a contemplative and meditative disposition, affected
retirement from the world and a solitary life as the best means to
attain to happiness and salvation. _Salaman_, on the other hand, with
his natural aversion to contemplation, and subtle inquiries into the
higher world of things, preferred conversation, human society, and
company, as the best means to drive away evil thoughts. Though they were
the best of friends, this disparity in their views caused them in the
end to separate.
_Asal_, advised of the fertility and health-giving atmosphere of that
Island wherein _Hayy Ibn Yokdhan_ dwelled, decided to go thither. After
having sold his goods, and having distributed part thereof among the
poor, he hired a ship and was transported into Hayy's Island.
As _Hayy_, being wholly taken up in sublime speculations, scarcely ever
stirred out of his cave, Asal did not at first light upon him. One day,
however, when Hayy was stepping out of his cell to look out for some
food, he spied _Asal_--and the following episode forms one of the most
charming chapters of the story in its description of how Hayy brings
Asal to book, and how they try to make themselves understood to one
another.
_Hayy_, who is taken by _Asal_ to be one of those religious persons
given to solitude, like himself, who had retired to that Island to give
himself up to contemplation and prayers, stands, on his part, in wonder
and amazement at the appearance of _Asal_. He could not imagine what it
was. For of all the creatures he had ever beheld in his life, there was
none that in the least resembled him. And in the end he came to the
conclusion that he must be one of the essences, that had the knowledge
of the True One. He is anxious to get into closer contact with him; and
therefore, when he sees Asal making off with all might and in great
haste, he follows him, and, being endowed with great bodily vigour,
overtakes him, seizes him, and holds him fast so that he could not get
off again.
When _Asal_ looked upon him, and beheld him clothed with the skins of
wild beasts, and his own hair so long that it covered part of his body,
he felt great fear of him and tried to pacify him by stroking him.
_Hayy_, on the other hand, when he perceived those tokens of his fear,
endeavoured to allay it with such vocal expressions as he had learned
from some animals, and furthermore by stroking, with great gentleness,
his hand, his head, his neck, until he succeeded, by the expression of
great kindness and joy, in allaying _Asal's_ fears.
Then _Asal_, being a great expert in languages, began to question him
concerning his doings and ways of life in all the languages he was
master of. But _Hayy_ did not understand anything of all that was said
to him; and so they stood for a long time, wrapped up in wonder, looking
at one another.
_Asal_, however, did not lose hope that it should come to pass that he
should teach him languages, knowledge, and religion; and by dint of
patience and application, he at last succeeded in teaching him the
rudiments of language; and then he very quickly advanced him so far that
he could converse with him any length of time.
Thereupon, he began to question him about his past and about his manner
of living, and _Hayy_ described to him the progress he had made in
knowledge until he had attained to that degree of union with God, and
told him of those essences that are separated from the sensible world;
and of that essence, the True One, the Almighty and Glorious, with all
his glorious attributes.
When _Asal_ heard of all this, the eyes of his heart were opened and
his mind enlightened, and he realised that all those rules and precepts
he had been taught himself in his law, regarding the Almighty and
Glorious God, his Angels and Books, his Messengers and the Day of
Judgment, Paradise and Hell, were, in fact, resemblances of what Hayy
had seen, and that his religion and Hayy's philosophy were only two
different forms of the One Eternal Truth.
Now, when _Hayy_ heard from _Asal_, in the course of their further
conversations and discussions, of the sad state of the inner life which
the people on _Asal's_ Island lived in, he was greatly affected with
pity towards them, and a resolution entered into his mind of going over
to them in the hope and desire to become an instrument in their
salvation. _Asal_ quickly fell in with this plan. So they took the first
ship that passed the shore of their Island and repaired to the opposite
Island.
When they arrived there, _Asal's_ friends gathered round him, anxious to
hear of his adventures; and when they heard his account of _Hayy Ibn
Yokdhan_, they flocked together from all sides, surrounding him with all
tokens of reverence and admiration.
_Hayy_ sets to work at once. He begins to explain to them the mysteries
of wisdom, and to inculcate them with those precepts with which he was
imbued. But as they were diametrically opposed to the notions deeply
rooted in their minds, they began to withdraw themselves from him, and
to loathe and abhor him; outwardly, however, in his presence, making a
great show of kindness.
_Hayy_ soon found out that it was hopeless to reform these people, whose
only God was their lusts and appetites, blinded and captivated as they
were by the trifles and vanities of this world, tossed up and down until
they tottered to their graves. He saw that God had sealed up their
hearts and ears, a thick mist being before their eyes and sore
punishment abiding them.
When Hayy saw how things stood--that there was no salvation for this
weak, tractable, and defective sort of men, he craved pardon for the
things he had spoken and desisted from further efforts in that
direction.
Greatly disappointed at being unable to regenerate Salaman's subjects,
he bade him farewell and returned with Asal to his Island. There they
continued to devote themselves to contemplation and the search after the
Eternal Truth, and did not cease worshipping God until death laid his
hands upon them.
These are the outlines of the story of Hayy Ibn Yokdhan.
Both Myth and History are the parents of many of its most touching and
tender motives.
Stranded, or rather exposed on an Island by his mother, a Princess--who
is not reminded of the same motive in a biblical story?--nursed by a
Roe--another favourite motive of semi-mythical periods.
Later on, wholly left to his own resources, yet nothing daunted, by
sheer pluck and energy he builds himself up a material existence, then
by the sharpness of his wit, the originality and penetration of his
thought, the incisiveness of his intuition, he rapidly builds up a
spiritual structure of Nature, Heaven, and its Mover and Ruler, God,
until, at the age of fifty, he has attained to that highest stage of
Sufic evolution, the Ecstasy, the complete immersion in, and absorption
by, the One Essence, the True One, that Eternal Being: Ecstasy, the same
state which is so beautifully described by that famous Arabian
philosopher, Avicenna, when he says:--"Then when a man's desires are
raised to a high pitch, and he is sufficiently well exercised in that
way, there will appear to him some small glimmerings of the Truth, as it
were flashes of lightning, very delightful, which just shine upon him
and then go out. Then the more he exercises himself, the more often
he'll perceive them . . . till through frequent exercise he at last
attains to a perfect tranquillity: and that which used to appear to him
only by fits and starts, becomes habitual; and that which was only a
glimmering before, a constant light."
To detach and deliver the soul--if only for a few hours--from the
withering despotism of everyday life and strife, grey and monotonous
with its eternal round of toil, worry, and trouble; to bathe the soul in
the full sunshine of sublime wisdom, depicted and represented in this
simple romance, with its exquisite charm and captivating grace, clear as
crystal yet pregnant with ideas that have moved the world--this was the
idea which guided me in embarking upon this work.
If I have succeeded in this task, even only in a small degree, by
resuscitating this gem of Arabian philosophical literature--then I
consider myself richly repaid for the labour I have bestowed on this
little book, which has, indeed, been a labour of love.
PAUL BRÖNNLE.
_25th April 1904._
THE AWAKENING OF THE SOUL
A PHILOSOPHICAL ROMANCE.
_Different Accounts of the Birth of Hayy Ibn Yokdhan._
Our good Forbears--may God be gracious unto them--report: there is an
Island amongst the Indian Islands (in the Indian Ocean), situated under
the Equinoctial, where men spring into being without father or mother.
There is also planted a tree that produces women, and they are those
whom al-Mas`udi calleth the Wakwak Damsels.
The Island is so blessed with the influence of light and sun as to be
the most temperate and perfect of places; an opinion, however, that does
not agree with that of the greatest philosophers and most famous
physicians, who hold that there is nothing more temperate in the world
than the fourth climate. According to them Hayy Ibn Yokdhan belonged to
the number of those that are born without father or mother. Others,
however, relate the story in a different manner. They tell us:
_Hayy Ibn Yokdhan, son of a Princess._
Not far from this Island there lay another Island of great tract and
large compass, abounding in fruits and well peopled. It was then
governed by a Prince of haughty, fierce, and jealous disposition: he had
a sister, graced with matchless beauty. He kept her in close custody and
would not permit her to marry; for among her suitors there was not one
he declared worthy of her.
Yet in spite of his watchfulness, his near kinsman, named Yokdhan,
succeeded in winning her affections, and married her clandestinely
according to the rites commonly known in those times. And before long
she was with child and delivered of a son.
_Hayy is exposed by his Mother._
Being in fear lest the matter should be discovered and her secret
disclosed, she put him into a little ark and closed it firmly after
having suckled the babe. Accompanied by her most trusted servants, she
carried it to the seashore early in the night, her heart burning and
distracted with love and fear, and then (tenderly kissing him with
tearful eyes) she took her last leave of him, sending up this prayer to
God:--
"O God! thou didst create this little child, when as yet it was nothing;
thou didst cherish and nourish him while he lay confined within the dark
closet of my womb; thou didst take great care of him until he formed
into perfection and harmony. I, trembling before the haughty, unjust,
and violent Prince, commend him unto thy goodness and pray that thou
who surpasseth all in mercy wilt be bountiful unto him. Be thou, I pray
thee, a guide and assistance unto him; forsake him not, and never leave
him destitute of thy care."
_Hayy is driven by the tide to another Island._
With these words she committed the little ark with the child into the
sea, and the waters swelling with the tide carried it in the same night
to the shore of another Island whereof we have just made mention.
It so happened that there was such a powerful current of the high
water--as it does happen there once a year--that the ark was carried
right to the shore, and by its force cast into a shady grove, thick set
with trees,--a very pleasant place, well sheltered from wind and rain,
and secured from the sun, which at its rising and setting receded from
it.
Then when the waters subsided, the ark wherein the infant peacefully
slumbered was left stranded, banked up by sands, safely aground,
sheltered from blustering wind or in-coming tide. For when the wind
blew, the sands were heaped together and obstructed the passage to the
grove, and thus prevented the coming of any water into it so that the
flood could not reach it.
_Hayy is found by a Roe, which takes care of him._
Now it came to pass that the nails of the ark and its joints became
loosened by the violence of the waves. The child, feeling hungry, began
to cry bitterly, seeking relief and moving about in the ark.
Fortunately it so happened that its cry was heard by a roe that was
wandering about in search of her fawn, which, having ventured out of its
den, had been carried off by an eagle.
When she heard the cry, she at first took it to be the cry of her fawn;
so she followed it quickly up, until she came to the ark. She at once
started to break it open with her hoofs, and, aided by the struggling
child within, she at last forced a board covering the upper part of the
ark.
Whereupon, beholding the dear child, she took pity on him, and being
moved with tender affection towards him, she suckled him. Thus she fully
satisfied him with milk, and, while he was weak and helpless, did come
and guard him, defending him from evil and keeping him from all harm.
And this is the tale that is told by those who refuse to believe that a
man can come into the world without parents. But we shall explain later
on how it grew and how it progressed until it reached unto great
perfection.
_Spontaneous Generation._
Those, however, who think he was born out of the earth, without father
or mother, say that, in a low piece of ground in that Island, it
happened that in the course of years a certain mass of clay so fermented
that the four qualities heat and cold, moisture and dryness, agreed in
equal mixture and in equal strength; and there was a great bulk of this
clay in which some parts excelled the others, being more equally
tempered and therefore fitter for the generation (of a mixed body); the
middle portion of the clay being of the most perfect temper, and most
closely approaching the human temper. The matter being in a state of
fermentation, bubblings arose by reason of its great clamminess; and it
came to pass that there was some clammy thing in the midst of it with a
small bubbling, being divided with a thin partition into two parts, full
of a spirituous and airy body, of the most equal temper. Thereupon, at
the command of the most high God, a spirit was infused into it and
joined so closely thereto that it could scarcely be separated therefrom
either by sense or thought; this spirit constantly flowing out from God,
as is manifest in the light of the sun which constantly influenceth the
world . . . and creates.
_Hayy grows up nursed by the Roe._
According to the other account (which we follow) the infant developed
and grew, being nourished with the roe's milk, until he was two years
old. By this time he began to walk by degrees and grow his foreteeth. He
always followed the roe, who guarded him with most tender affection, and
led him into places where there grew trees full of fruit, and fed him
with ripe and sweet fruits that fell from the tree, breaking those that
had a hard shell with her teeth.
She suckled the babe whenever he pleased. When he thirsted for water,
she led him thereto; when the beams of the sun were in any way
troublesome to him, she shaded him. When he suffered from the cold, she
cherished and warmed him. And when the night approached, she brought him
home to his former abode and covered him with her own body and partly
with feathers such as remained of those wherewith the ark was stuffed
when he was first put into it. When they went forth in the morning or
came home of an evening, they were always accompanied by a herd of deer
that lay together with them, in the same place.
_Hayy learns to imitate animals' voices._
In this way the boy keeping company with them also learned their voice,
which he imitated so exactly that scarcely any difference could be
perceived between them. In like manner, whatever other voice he heard,
whether of bird or beast, he came very near it by virtue of a very
apprehensive faculty wherewith he was endowed. But of all the voices he
imitated, he made most use of the deer's when they cried out for help or
called their fellow-deer, when they wanted them nearer by or farther
off. For as you know, those creatures have diverse voices according to
their various ends and uses. Thus the child kept company with the deer,
and they were not in the least afraid of one another.
_Hayy begins to take a careful view of things._
Now when the images of things, after being removed out of sight, became
fixed in his mind, it affected him so that he took a fancy to some
things, whilst he had a distaste for others. In the meanwhile he took a
careful view of all the beasts. He saw them covered with wool, hair, and
different kinds of plumes; he beheld their great swiftness and strength
and the weapons they were armed with for protection and defence, viz.
horns, teeth, hoofs, spurs, nails, and the like. Then he viewed himself
and found he was naked, destitute of weapons, slow and weak. For
whenever they contended with him about the fruits they were to feed on,
he generally got the worst of it; they pulled the fruit from him,
keeping it for themselves, and he could not beat them off or flee from
them.
_Hayy observes the difference between the animals and himself._
Moreover, he observed that his fellow-fawns began to have little horns
which they had not had at first; and while they were at first weak, and
unable to run far, yet in progress of time grew to be very vigorous and
nimble, and active in their movements. But none of all this he perceived
to befall himself, and as often as he pondered over the matter, he could
not make out what should be the reason thereof.
Also, when he beheld the creatures such as had any fault or defect of
limbs, he could not find one amongst them like himself. All these
matters evoked great grief and anxiety within him; and after having
earnestly pondered over the matter and perplexed himself therewith, he
at last gave up, in utter despair, the hope of being supplied with
that, the want of which so sorely troubled his mind.
_Hayy as a boy of seven. He covers himself with leaves._
Thereupon he, having by this time grown to be a boy of seven, decided to
put forth his own efforts and to help himself. He took some broad leaves
of trees (wherewith to cover his nakedness) and put some on the
fore-part of his body, covering the hinder parts with the others; and
having thus made a girdle of palm-leaves and rushes together, he girded
his waist therewith.
But it was not long before the leaves, growing dry, withered and fell
off from him.
Hayy, by no means discouraged, at once took fresh ones in their stead,
and put them one on top of another, thus forming double folds; but even
then, though remaining somewhat longer, they would not last but a short
time. Thereupon, he broke off the bough of a tree, the ends whereof he
made straight, stripping off the twigs, and then smoothed the middle
parts thereof.
_Hayy becomes aggressive, and attacks wild beasts._
Thus armed, he began to attack and affright such of the wild beasts as
ventured to oppose him, assaulting the weaker and defending himself
against the stronger. In this way he came to understand to some degree
his own strength, and found out that his head by far excelled theirs, as
he had been enabled therewith to cover his own nakedness and to provide
himself with a weapon wherewith to defend himself. So that now he had
no need of those natural weapons which he had formerly so much desired.
_Hayy covers himself with the skin of an Eagle._
By this time he had grown up and was now past seven years of age; and as
he found the frequent repairing of the leaves wherewith he covered
himself very troublesome to him, it entered his mind to take unto him
the tail of some dead beast, and gird it about him. But when he noticed
that all the beasts shunned the dead bodies of those that were of the
same kind, and saw them flee from them, he began to feel doubtful
whether it was safe for him to do so, until at length he lighted one day
on a dead eagle; and when he noticed that none of the animals fled
before him, he thought that from him he might get his desire
accomplished.
So, seizing the opportunity, he stepped forward towards him and first
cut off the wings and the tail complete just as they were; then he
smoothed the feathers, and spread them open; thereupon he tore off the
remainder of the skin, dividing it into two portions, whereof he wore
the one on his back, the other upon his belly and the secret parts. The
tails he fixed behind and the wings on his arms. Thus he was at the same
time covered and kept warm.
_Hayy spreads terror among the beasts._
Moreover, he spread such terror among the beasts that they did not
venture to resist or oppose him, and none dared to come near him except
his roe which had suckled him and brought him up; and he never separated
from her nor she from him. And when she became old and weakly, he led
her to those places where there was the best food to be found, gathering
the sweetest fruits and giving them to her to eat.
_Hayy is grief-stricken at the death of the Roe._
Yet in spite of all the care he bestowed upon her, she grew more lean
and feeble every day, and in the end death overtook her, when all her
motions stopped and her actions ceased.
When the boy noticed this, sad grief overcame him, and he was stricken
with the greatest sorrow. He called her with the same voice she used to
answer; and though he shouted at the top of his voice, he could not
perceive any movement or alteration in her. Thereupon he began to look
closer into her eyes and ears, but could not find any visible defect. In
equal manner, when he examined all the other parts of the body, he could
find nothing amiss. He therefore earnestly desired to find out where the
defect lay hidden, so that he might be able to remove it and make her
return to her former state of vigorous life. But he was quite at a loss
and utterly unable to find by what means to attain his ends. . . .
_Hayy takes an aversion to the dead Body._
In the meantime the dead body of the roe began to putrefy and to exhale
noisome vapours, which tended to increase his aversion to it and made
him unwilling to look upon it.
Not long after this he chanced to see two ravens fighting together, and
one of them struck the other down dead. After that it began to scrape
the earth with its claws, till it had dug up a pit wherein it buried the
carcase of its adversary. When Hayy observed this, he said to himself:
"How well has this raven done in covering the body of his companion,
though he did ill in killing him. How much greater reason was there for
me to have performed this good office to my mother."
_Hayy buries the body of the Roe._
Thereupon he digged a grave, in which he laid his mother's body,
throwing earth upon it. Then he went on meditating on the thing which
had governed the body, but could not apprehend what sort of thing it
was. But when he looked on the rest of the roes, and saw that they all
had the same figure and form as his mother had had, he gathered there
was in every one of them something that governed and actuated them, like
that which had actuated and governed his mother. And on account of that
likeness he continued to follow them, and liked to be in their company.
_Hayy observes divers kinds of Living Creatures and Plants._