Fariduddin Attar
(AD 1119-1229)
Fariduddin Attar was born in the village of Kerken near Nishapur in
Khorassan, A.D. 1119 under the Sultan Sandjar. Some years after his
birth his father removed to Schadbakh, where he kept a druggist's shop.
On his father's death, Fariduddin carried on the business, whence he
received his cognomen Attar (druggist). His call to the religious life
was as follows: One day while he was seated in his shop surrounded by
servants busily attending to his orders, a wandering dervish paused at
the door and regarded him silently, while his eyes slowly filled with
tears. Attar sharply told him to be off about his business. "That is
easily done," replied the dervish; "I have only a light bundle to carry,
nothing in fact but my clothes. But you with your sacks full of valuable
drugs, when the time comes to go, what will _you_ do? Had you not better
consider a little?" The appeal went home. He promptly abandoned his
business in order to devote himself to a religious life. Bidding a
decisive adieu to the world, he betook himself to a Sufi convent,
presided over by Sheikh Ruknuddin. Here he resided for some time engaged
in devotional practices, and then made the pilgrimage to Mecca, where he
met with many devotees and conceived the idea of compiling a collection
of stories of the holy men of Islam. To this work he devoted several
years of his long life; he also composed a Pand-nama or "Book of
Counsels." But the work by which he is chiefly known is the
"Mantiq-ut-tair" or "Parliament of Birds," and of this we proceed to
give some account.
In this allegorical poem various birds representing mystics, unite
themselves under the leadership of the hoopoe in order to journey to the
court of the Simurgh, a mysterious bird whose name signifies "thirty
birds," dwelling in Mount Kaf, the mountain which encircles the world.
At the commencement of the poem there is a long debate between the
hoopoe and the other birds, who at first allege various excuses for not
undertaking the journey, while he rebukes them for their lukewarmness,
not concealing, however, the fact that the journey is full of peril, and
that though many start few will reach the goal. The hoopoe's description
of the road is as follows: "We have seven valleys to traverse.[47] The
first is the Valley of Search; the second the Valley of Love, which has
no limits; the third is the Valley of Knowledge; the fourth is the
Valley of Independence; the fifth is the Valley of Unity, pure and
simple; the sixth is the Valley of Amazement; last of all is the valley
of Poverty and Annihilation, beyond which there is no advance. There
thou wilt feel thyself drawn, but will have no power to go any further.
"(1) When thou enterest the Valley of Search, at every step new trials
will present themselves; there the parrot of the celestial sphere is as
mute as a fly. There thou must cast away all thy possessions and imperil
all thy riches. Not only must the hand be empty, but thy heart must be
detached from all that is earthly. Then the Light of the Divine Essence
will begin to cast upon thee some rays.
"(2) In order to enter the second valley (of love) thou must be made all
of fire; he who is not composed of fire will find no pleasure in that
valley; he must not think of the future, but be ready to sacrifice a
hundred worlds to the flames, if needs be. Faith and infidelity, good
and evil, religion and irreligion, are all one for him who has arrived
at the second stage; for where love reigns, none of them exist any more.
"(3) In the third valley (of knowledge) the progress of the pilgrims is
in proportion to their innate powers. In the path traversed by Abraham
the Friend of God, can a feeble spider keep pace with an elephant? Let
the gnat fly as hard as he may, he will never keep up with the wind.
Thus the degrees of knowledge attained to by the initiated are
different; one only reaches the entrance of the temple, while another
finds the Divinity who dwells in it. When the Sun of Knowledge darts its
rays, each is illumined in proportion to his capacity, and finds in the
contemplation of the truth the rank which belongs to him. He sees a path
lie open before him through the midst of the fire, the furnace of the
world becomes for him a garden of roses. He perceives the almond within
the shell, that is to say, he sees God under the veil of all apparent
things. But for one happy man who penetrates into these mysteries, how
many millions have gone astray? Only the perfect can dive with success
into the depths of this ocean.
"(4) In the fourth valley (of independence) thou hast done with
everything but God. Out of this disposition of mind, which no longer
feels the need of anything, there rises a tempestuous hurricane, every
blast of which annihilates whole kingdoms. The seven seas are then no
more than a pool of water; the seven planets are a spark; the eight
paradises are only a single curtain; the seven hells a mass of ice. In
less time than it takes the greedy crow to fill its crop, out of a
hundred caravans of travellers there remains not one alive.
"(5) The Valley of Unity which succeeds to that of Independence, is the
valley of privation of all things and reduction to unity, that is to
say, the attainment of a degree of spirituality, in which the Divine
Essence, apart from every attribute, is the object of contemplation.
"(6) In the sixth valley, that of Amazement, the pilgrim's lot is to
suffer and to groan; each breath he draws is like a sword; his days and
nights are passed in sighs; from each of his hairs distils a drop of
blood, which, as it falls, traces in the air the letters of the word
"alas!" There he remains in a state of stupefaction, and finds his way
no more."
To make the meaning of "Amazement" clearer, Attar gives the following
allegory. He supposes that the young companions of a princess wished one
day to amuse themselves at the expense of a slave. They made him drink
wine in which they had dropped a narcotic drug, and when he was asleep
had him carried to the harem. At midnight, when he woke, he found
himself on a gilded couch surrounded by perfumed candles, scent-boxes of
aloes, and lovely women whose songs ravished his ear. "Disconcerted and
stupefied," says the poet, "he no longer retained reason nor life. He
was no longer in this world, nor was he in the other. His heart was full
of love for the princess, but his tongue remained mute. His spirit was
in ecstacies. When he awoke in the morning he found himself again a
slave at his old post. The memory of the past night was so vivid that it
caused him to utter a cry; he tore his garments, and threw dust upon his
head. They asked him what was the matter, but he knew not what to reply.
He could not say whether what he had seen was a dream or a reality;
whether he had passed the night in drunkenness or in full possession of
his faculties. What he had seen had left a profound impression on his
mind, and yet he could not trace it out accurately. He had contemplated
Beauty beyond all words, and yet he was not sure whether he had seen It
after all. The only effect of his vision was a trouble of mind and
uncertainty."
(7) At last comes the seventh valley, that of Poverty and Annihilation.
"But these words are insufficient to describe it; forgetfulness,
deafness, dumbness, fainting--such is the condition of the pilgrim in
this valley. One sun causes millions of shadows to vanish. When the
ocean is agitated, how can the figures traced on its waters remain? Such
figures are this world and the world to come, and he who knows them to
be nothing is right. He who is plunged in this sea, where the heart is
astray and lost, has by means of his very annihilation found immutable
repose. In this ocean, where reigns a constant calm, the heart finds
nought but annihilation."
Attar also illustrates the Sufi doctrine of annihilation (which
resembles the Buddhistic nirvana) by an allegory. "One night," he says,
"the butterflies were tormented by the desire to unite themselves with
the candle-flame. They held a meeting, and resolved that one of them
should go and experiment, and bring back news. A butterfly was sent to a
neighbouring house, and he perceived the flame of the candle which was
burning within. He brought back word and tried to describe the flame
according to the measure of his intelligence; but the butterfly who
presided over the assembly said that the exploring butterfly had
attained no real knowledge of the candle-flame. A second butterfly went
forth, and approached so close to the flame as to singe his wings. He
also returned, and threw a little light on the mystery of union with the
flame. But the presiding butterfly found his explanation not much more
satisfactory than the preceding one.
"A third butterfly then flew forth; he was intoxicated with love for the
flame, and flung himself wholly into it; he lost himself, and identified
himself with it. It embraced him completely, and his body became as
fiery-red as the flame itself. When the presiding butterfly saw from
afar that the flame had absorbed the devoted butterfly and communicated
its own qualities to it; 'That butterfly,' he exclaimed, 'has learnt
what he wished to know, but he alone understands it. Only he who has
lost all trace and token of his own existence knows what annihilation
is. Until thou ignorest thyself, body and soul, thou canst not know the
object which deserves thy love.'"
The foregoing terrible description of the seven mysterious valleys was
well calculated to discourage the birds, and Attar tells us that after
hearing it they stood with hearts oppressed and heads bent. "All
understood," he says, "that it was not for a feeble hand to bend this
bow. They were so terrified by the discourse of the hoopoe that a great
number died on the spot where they were assembled. As to the others, in
spite of their dismay, they consented to commence the journey. During
long years they travelled over hill and dale, and spent a great part of
their lives in pilgrimage.
"Finally, of all who set out, a very small band arrived at the goal.
Some were drowned in the ocean, others were annihilated and disappeared.
Others perished on the peaks of high mountains, devoured by thirst and a
prey to all kinds of ills.[48] Others had their plumes burnt and their
hearts dried up by the scorching heat of the sun; others fell a prey to
the wild beasts which haunted the road, falling panic-struck, without
resistance, into their claws; others died of sheer exhaustion in the
desert; others fought and killed each other madly for chance grains of
corn; others experienced all kinds of pains and fatigues, and ended by
stopping short of the goal; others, engrossed in curiosity and
pleasure, perished without thinking of the object for which they had
set out.
"When they started, their numbers were countless, but at last only
thirty arrived, and these without feathers and wings, exhausted and
prostrated, their hearts broken, their souls fainting, their bodies worn
out by fatigue. They had arrived at the Palace of the Simurgh. A
chamberlain of the King, who saw these thirty hapless birds without
feathers or wings, questioned them whence they came, and why. 'We have
come,' they answered, 'that the Simurgh may become our king. The love
that we feel for him has unsettled our reason. We have denied ourselves
all rest to follow the road that leads to Him. It is very long since we
started, and of our many millions, only thirty have reached the goal.
The hope of appearing here has buoyed us up hitherto; may the King think
kindly of the perils we have undergone, and cast upon us at least a
glance of compassion.' The chamberlain returned a harsh answer, and
ordered them to go back, telling them that the King had no need of their
homage. This answer at first cast them into despair, but afterwards,
imitating the moth which seeks certain death in the flame of the lamp,
they persisted in their request to be admitted to the presence of the
Simurgh. Their steadfastness did not remain unrewarded. The "chamberlain
of grace" came out, opened a door, and presented them with a document
which he ordered them to read. This contained a list of all the sins
which the birds had committed against the Simurgh. The perusal of it
caused them nothing less than death, but this death was for them the
birth into a new life."
Attar says: "By reason of the shame and confusion which these birds
experienced, their bodies became dust, and their souls were annihilated.
When they were entirely purified from all earthly elements, they all
received a new life. All that they had done or omitted to do during
their earthly existence passed entirely out of mind. The sun of
proximity burnt them, that is to say, their former existence was
consumed by the sun of the Divine Essence which they had approached, and
a ray of this light produced a life which animated them all. At this
moment they beheld themselves reflected in the Simurgh.[49] When they
stole a glance at Him, He appeared to be the thirty birds themselves;
when they looked at themselves, they seemed to be the Simurgh; and when
they looked at both together, only one Simurgh appeared. The situation
was inexpressible in words. They were all submerged in an ocean of
stupefaction, with all faculties of thought suspended. Without moving a
tongue, they interrogated the Awful Presence for an explanation of the
mystery of apparent identity between the Divinity and his adorers.
"Then a voice was heard saying, 'The Majesty of the Simurgh is a
sun-resembling mirror; whosoever contemplates Him beholds his own
reflection; body and soul see in Him body and soul. As you are thirty
birds, you appear in this mirror as thirty birds; if forty or fifty
birds came here they would see forty or fifty. Although you have passed
through many changes, it is yourselves only whom you have seen
throughout. Can the eye of an ant reach the Pleiades? Then how can your
inch of inkling attain to Us?
"In all the valleys which you have traversed, in all the acts of
kindness which you have done to others, it was by Our impulse alone that
you were acting. All this while you have been asleep in the Valley of
the Essence and the Attributes. You thirty birds have been unconscious
hitherto. The name "thirty birds" belongs rather to Us, who are the
veritable Simurgh. Find then in Us a glorious self-effacement, in order
to find yourselves again in us.'
"So they vanished in Him for ever, as the shadow disappears in the sun.
While on pilgrimage they conversed; when they had arrived, all converse
ceased. There was no longer a guide; there were no longer pilgrims; the
road itself had ceased to be."
Such is this allegory, or Sufi's "Pilgrim's Progress," which contains
nearly five thousand couplets. Attar varies the monotony of the long
speeches of the Hoopoe and the other birds by inserting anecdotes, of
which the following is one of the most striking:--
STORY OF THE SHEIKH SANAAN.
The Sheikh Sanaan was one of the saints of his age; four or five times
he had made the pilgrimage to Mecca; his prayers and fasts were
countless; no practice enjoined by the religious law was omitted by him;
he had passed through all the degrees of the spiritual life; his very
breath had a healing influence upon the sick. In joy and in grief, he
was an example for men, and, as it were, a standard lifted up.
One night, to his distress, he dreamt that he was fated to leave Mecca
(where he was then residing) for Roum (Asia Minor), and there become an
idolator. When he awoke, he said to his disciples, of whom he had four
hundred, "My decision is taken; I must go to Roum in order to have this
dream explained." His four hundred disciples accompanied him on the
journey. They went from Mecca to Roum, and traversed the country from
one end to another. One day, by chance they saw on an elevated balcony a
young and lovely Christian girl. No sooner had the Sheikh seen her than
he became violently in love, and seemed to lose all regard for his
religious duties. His disciples tried to rouse him out of his perilous
state, but in vain. One said to him, "O thou knower of secrets, rise and
perform thy prayers." He replied, "My 'mihrab'[50] is the face of my
Beloved; only thither will I direct my prayers." Another said, "Dost
thou not repent? Dost thou not preserve any regard for Islam?" "No one,"
he said, "repents more deeply than I do for not having been in love
before." A third said, "Anyone with intelligence can see that though
thou wast our guide, thou hast gone astray." He answered, "Say what you
like, I am not ashamed; I break with a stone the vase of hypocrisy."
To many similar remonstrances he made similar replies. At last, finding
their efforts of no avail, his disciples left him. Lost in a kind of
stupor, he remained the whole night motionless before the balcony.
In the morning the young Christian came out, and seeing that he did not
got away, understood that he was in love. He poured out a passionate
appeal, when she would have dismissed him, and refused to depart. At
last she said, "If thou art really in earnest, thou must utterly wash
thy hands of Islam; thou must bow to idols,[51] burn the Koran, drink
wine, and give up thy religious observances." The Sheikh replied, "I
will drink wine, but I cannot consent to the three other conditions."
She said, "Rise, then, and drink; when thou hast drunk, thou mayest,
perchance, be able." Accordingly the Sheikh drank wine, and, having done
so, lost his senses entirely, complied with her requests, and became her
abject slave. He then said to her, "O charming maiden, what remains to
be done? I have drunk wine, I have adored idols; no one could do more
for love than I have done." She, though she began to requite his
affection, wishing still further to prove him, answered, "Go, then, and
feed my swine for a year, and then we will pass our lives together in
joy or in sorrow."
So this saint and great Sheikh consented to keep swine for a year. The
news of his apostasy spread all over Roum, and his disciples again came
to remonstrate with him, and said, "O thou who disregardest religion,
return with us again to the Kaaba." The Sheikh answered, "My soul is
full of sadness; go whither your desires carry you. As for me, the
Church is henceforth my place, and the young Christian the happiness of
my life." He spoke, and turning his face from his friends, went back to
feed his swine. They wept, and looked at him wistfully from afar. At
last they returned sadly to the Kaaba.
Now there was a friend of the Sheikh, who happened to have been absent
when the Sheikh left Mecca. On the arrival of the Sheikh's disciples, he
questioned them, and learned all that had happened. He then said, "If
you are really his friends, go and pray to God night and day for the
Sheikh's conversion." Accordingly, forty days and nights they prayed and
fasted, till their prayers were heard, and God turned the sheikh's heart
back again to Islam. The secrets of divine wisdom, the Koran, the
prophecies, all that he had blotted out of his mind, came back to his
memory, and at the same time he was delivered from his folly and his
misery. When the fire of repentance burns, it consumes everything. He
made his ablutions, resumed his Moslem garb, and departed for Mecca,
where he and his old disciples embraced with tears of joy.
In the meantime the young Christian saw the Prophet appearing to her in
a dream, and saying, "Follow the Sheikh! Adopt his doctrine; be the dust
under his feet. Thou who wert the cause of his apostasy, be pure as he
is." When she awoke from her dream, a strong impulse urged her to seek
for him. With a heart full of affection, though with a feeble body, she
went to seek for the Sheikh and his disciples. While she was on the way,
an inner voice apprised the Sheikh of what was passing. "This maiden,"
it said, "has abandoned infidelity; she has heard of Our sacred
House,[52] she has entered in Our way; thou mayest take her now, and be
blameless."
Forthwith, the Sheikh set out on the way towards Roum to meet her; his
disciples essayed to stop him and said, "Was thy repentance not real?
Art thou turning back again to folly?" But he told them of the
intimation which he had received, and they set out together till they
arrived where the young Christian was. But they found her prostrate on
the ground, her hair soiled by the dust of the way, her feet bare, her
garments torn. At this sight tears ran down the Sheikh's cheeks; she,
when she saw him, said, "Lift the veil that I may be instructed, and
teach me Islam."
When this lovely idol had become one of the Faithful, they shed tears of
joy, but she was sad; "O Sheikh!" she cried, "my powers are exhausted; I
cannot support absence. I am going to leave this dusty and bewildering
world. Farewell, Sheikh Sanaan, farewell! I can say no more; pardon me
and oppose me not." So saying, her soul left the body; the drop returned
to the ocean.
Other anecdotes which occur in the Mantiq-ut-tair are the following:--
THE ANGEL GABRIEL AND THE INFIDEL.
One night Gabriel was near the Throne, when he heard Allah pronouncing
words of acquiescence in answer to someone's prayer. "A servant of God,"
said Gabriel to himself, "is invoking the Eternal just now; but who is
he? All that I can understand is that he must be a saint of surpassing
merit, whose spirit has entirely subdued his flesh. Gabriel wished to
know who the happy mortal was, but though he flew over lands and seas,
he did not find him. He hastened to return to the proximity of the
Throne and heard again the same answer given to the same prayers. In his
anxiety to know the suppliant, he again sought for him throughout the
world, but in vain. Then he cried, "O God, show me the way that conducts
to his dwelling." "Go," was the answer, "to the country of Roum; enter a
certain Christian convent, and thou shalt find him." Gabriel hastened
thither, and saw the man who was the object of the divine favour; at
that very moment he was adoring an idol. Then Gabriel said to God, "O
Master of the world, reveal to me this secret; How canst Thou hear with
kindness him who prays to an idol in a convent?" God answered him, "A
veil is upon his heart; he knows not that he is astray. Since he has
erred through ignorance, I pardon him, and grant him access to the
highest rank of saints."
THE CLAY OF WHICH MAN IS MADE.
One day the Prophet drank of a stream and found its taste more sweet
than rose-water. As he was sitting by the stream, someone came and
filled his clay pitcher from it, and the Prophet drank out of that also.
To his amazement, he found the water bitter. "O God," he said, "the
water of the stream and the water in the pitcher are one; disclose to me
the secret of the difference in their taste. Why is the water in the
pitcher bitter, and the other sweet as honey?" From the pitcher itself
came the answer. "I am old; the clay of which I am made has been worked
over and over again into a thousand shapes. But in every shape I am
impregnated with the bitter savour of mortality. It exists in me in such
a way that the water which I hold cannot be sweet."
THE DEAD CRIMINAL.
A poor criminal died, and as they were carrying him to burial, a devotee
who was passing by stood aloof, saying that funeral prayers should not
be said over such an one. The next night, in a dream, the devotee saw
the criminal in heaven, with his face shining like the sun. Amazed, he
said to him, "How hast thou obtained so lofty a place, thou who hast
spent thy life in crime, and art foul from head to foot?" He answered,
"It is because of thy want of compassion towards me that God has shown
me mercy, though so great a sinner. Behold the mystery of God's love and
wisdom. In His wisdom, He sends man, like a child with a lamp, through
the night as black as a raven; immediately afterwards he commands a
furious wind to blow and extinguish the lamp. Then He asks His child why
the lamp is blown out."
"Night and day, O my child, the seven spheres carry on their revolutions
for thee. Heaven and hell are reflections of thy goodness and of thy
wickedness. The angels have all bowed down to thee.[53] The part and
whole are lost in thy essence. Do not, therefore, despise thine own
self, for nothing is higher than it. The body is part of the Whole, and
thy soul is the Whole. The body is not distinct from the soul, but is a
part of it, neither is the soul distinct from the Whole. It is for thee
that the time arrives when the rose displays its beauty; for thee that
the clouds pour down the rain of mercy. Whatever the angels do, they
have done for thee."
ANECDOTE OF BAYAZID BASTAMI.
One night Sheikh Bayazid went out of the town, and found reigning
everywhere profound silence. The moon was shining at the full, making
the night as clear as day. The sky was covered with constellations, each
fulfilling its course. The Sheikh walked on for a long while without
hearing the least sound, and without perceiving anyone. He was deeply
moved, and said, "O Lord, my heart is pained. Why is such a sublime
audience-hall as Thine without throngs of worshippers?" "Cease thy
wonder," an inner voice replied to him. "The King does not accord access
to His Court to everyone. When the sanctuary of Our splendour is
displayed, the careless and the slumbering are without. Those who are to
be admitted to this Court wait whole years, and then only one in a
million enters."
* * * * *
In his latter years, Fariduddin Attar carried his asceticism to such a
degree that he gave up composing poetry altogether. The story of his
death illustrates in a striking way the indifference to external things
cultivated by the Sufis. During the invasion of Persia by Jenghiz Khan
(1229 A.D.) when Attar had reached the great age of 110, he was taken
prisoner by the Mongols. One of them was about to kill him, when another
said, "Let the old man live; I will give a thousand pieces of silver as
his ransom." His captor was about to close with the bargain, but Attar
said, "Don't sell me so cheaply; you will find someone willing to give
more." Subsequently another man came up and offered a bag of straw for
him. "Sell me to him," said Attar, "for that is all I am worth." The
Mongol, irritated at the loss of the first offer, slew the saint, who
thus found the death he desired.
[47] _i.e.:_ The stages of the Sufi's progress to God.
[48] c.f. G. Meredith
"Out of hundreds who aspire,
Eighties perish, nineties tire;
Those who bear up in spite of wrecks and wracks,
Were seasoned by celestial blows and thwacks."
[49] It should be remembered that the name Simurgh means "thirty
birds."
[50] The niche in the mosque wall facing Mecca, towards which
Muhammadans pray.
[51] Christians are regarded as idolators by Moslems.
[52] The Kaaba.
[53] Alluding to the Koran (Sura 18) where the angels are
represented as worshipping Adam by the command of God.