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supply, but where the walis failed, a vivid and credulous imagination came to their rescue
and represented them, not as they were, but as they ought to be. Year by year the Legend
of the Saints grew more glorious and wonderful as it continued to draw fresh tribute from
the unfathomable ocean of Oriental romance. The pretensions made by the walis, or on
their behalf, steadily increased, and the stories told of them were ever becoming more
fantastic and extravagant. I will devote the remainder of this chapter to a sketch of the
wali as he appears in the vast medieval literature on the subject.
The Moslem saint does not say that he has wrought a miracle; he says, "a miracle was
granted or manifested to me." According to one view, he may be fully conscious at the
time, but many Sufis hold that such 'manifestation' cannot take place except in ecstasy,
when the saint is entirely under divine control. His own personality is then in abeyance,
and those who interfere with him oppose the Almighty Power which speaks with his lips
and smites with his hand. Jalaluddin (who uses incidentally the rather double-edged
analogy of a man possessed by a peri {One of the spirits called collectively Jinn.}) relates the
following anecdote concerning Bayazid of Bistam, a celebrated Persian saint who several
times declared in ecstatic frenzy that he was no other than God.
After coming to himself on one of these occasions and learning what blasphemous
language he had uttered, Bayazid ordered his disciples to stab him with their knives if he
should offend again. Let me quote the sequel, from Mr. Whinfield's abridged translation
of the Masnavi (p. 196):
"The torrent of madness bore away his reason
And he spoke more impiously than before:
'Within my vesture is naught but God,
Whether you seek Him on earth or in heaven.'
His disciples all became mad with horror,
And struck with their knives at his holy body.
Each one who aimed at the body of the Sheykh--
His stroke was reversed and wounded the striker.
No stroke took effect on that man of spiritual gifts,
But the disciples were wounded and drowned in blood."
Here is the poet's conclusion:
"Ah! you who smite with your sword him beside himself,
You smite yourself therewith. Beware!
For he that is beside himself is annihilated and safe;
Yea, he dwells in security for ever.
His form is vanished, he is a mere mirror;
Nothing is seen in him but the reflexion of another.
If you spit at it, you spit at your own face,
And if you hit that mirror, you hit yourself.
If you see an ugly face in it, 'tis your own,
And if you see a Jesus there, you are its mother Mary.
He is neither this nor that--he is void of form;
'Tis your own form which is reflected back to you."
The life of Abu  l-Hasan Khurqani, another Persian Sufi who died in 1033 A.D., gives us
a complete picture of the Oriental pantheist, and exhibits the mingled arrogance and
sublimity of the character as clearly as could be desired. Since the original text covers
fifty pages, I can translate only a small portion of it here.
"Once the Sheykh said, 'This night a great many persons (he mentioned
the exact number) have been wounded by brigands in such-and-such a
desert.' On making inquiry, they found that his statement was perfectly
true. Strange to relate, on the same night his son's head was cut off and
laid upon the threshold of his house, yet he knew nothing of it. His wife,
who disbelieved in him, cried, 'What think you of a man who can tell
things which happen many leagues away, but does not know that his own
son's head has been cut off and is lying at his very door?' 'Yes,' the Sheykh
answered, 'when I saw that, the veil had been lifted, but when my son was
killed, it had been let down again.'"
"One day Abu  l-Hasan Khurqani clenched his fist and extended the little
finger and said, 'Here is the qibla {The qibla is the point to which Moslems turn
their faces when praying, i.e. the Ka ba.}, if any one desires to become a Sufi.'
These words were reported to the Grand Sheykh, who, deeming the co-
existence of two qiblas an insult to the divine Unity, exclaimed, 'Since a
second qibla has appeared, I will cancel the former one.' After that, no
pilgrims were able to reach Mecca. Some perished on the way, others fell
into the hands of robbers, or were prevented by various causes from
accomplishing their journey. Next year a certain dervish said to the Grand
Sheykh, 'What sense is there in keeping the folk away from the House of
God?' Thereupon the Grand Sheykh made a sign, and the road became
open once more. The dervish asked, 'Whose fault is it that all these people
have perished?' The Grand Sheykh replied, 'When elephants jostle each
other, who cares if a few wretched birds are crushed to death?'"
"Some persons who were setting forth on a journey begged Khurqani to
teach them a prayer that would keep them safe from the perils of the road.
He said, 'If any misfortune should befall you, mention my name.' This
answer was not agreeable to them; they set off, however, and while
travelling were attacked by brigands. One of the party mentioned the
saint's name and immediately became invisible, to the great astonishment
of the brigands, who could not find either his camel or his bales of
merchandise; the others lost all their clothes and goods. On returning
home, they asked the Sheykh to explain the mystery. 'We all invoked
God,' they said, 'and without success; but the one man who invoked you [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]