[p. vii]
[I hope the following disproportionate Notice of Jámi’s Life will be amusing enough to excuse its length. I found most of it at the last moment in Rosenzweig’s “Biographische Notizen” of Jámi, from whose own, and Commentator’s, Works it purports to be gathered.]
Núruddín Abdurrahman, Son of Maulána Nizamuddin [1] Ahmed, and descended on the Mother’s side from One of the Four great “Fathers” of Islamism, was born A.H. 817, A.D. 1414, in Jám, a little Town of Khorásan, whither (according to the Heft Aklím—“Seven Climates”) his Grandfather had migrated from Desht of Ispahán, and from which the Poet ultimately took his Takhalus, or Poetic name, Jámi. This word also signifies “A Cup;” wherefore, he says, “Born in Jám, and dipt in the ”Jam“ of Holy Lore, for a double reason I must be called Jámi in the Book of Song.” He was celebrated afterwards in other Oriental Titles—“Lord of Poets”—“Elephant of Wisdom,” &c., but often liked to call himself “The Ancient of Herát,” where he mainly resided.
When Five Years old he received the name of Núruddín—the “Light of Faith,” and even so early began to show the Metal, and take the Stamp that distinguished him through Life. In 1419, a famous Sheikh, Khwájah Mehmed [p. viii] Parsa, then in the last year of his Life, was being carried through Jám. “I was not then Five Years old,” says Jámi, “and my Father, who with his Friends went forth to salute him, had me carried on the Shoulders of one of the Family and set down before the Litter of the Sheikh, who gave a Nosegay into my hand. Sixty years have passed, and methinks I now see before me the bright Image of the Holy Man, and feel the Blessing of his Aspect, from which I date my after Devotion to that Brotherhood in which I hope to be enrolled.”
So again, when Maulána Fakhruddín Loristani had alighted at his Mother’s house—“I was then so little that he set me upon his Knee, and with his Fingers drawing the Letters of ‘Ali’ and ‘Omar’ in the Air, laughed delightedly to hear me spell them. He also by his Goodness sowed in my Heart the Seed of his Devotion, which has grown to Increase within me—in which I hope to live, and in which to die. Oh God! Dervish let me live, and Dervish die; and in the Company of the Dervish do Thou quicken me to Life again!”
Jámi first went to a School at Herát; and afterward to one founded by the Great Timúr at Samarcand. There he not only outstript his Fellows in the very Encyclopaedic Studies of Persian Education, but even puzzled the Doctors in Logic, Astronomy, and Theology; who, however, with unresenting Gravity welcomed him [p. xi] —“Lo! a new Light added to our Galaxy!”—In the wider Field of Samarcand he might have liked to remain; but Destiny liked otherwise, and a Dream recalled him to Herát. A Vision of the Great Súfi Master there, Mehmed Saaduddín Kaschgari, of the Nakhsbend Order of Dervishes, appeared to him in his Sleep, and bade him return to One who would satisfy all Desire. Jámi went back to Herát; he saw the Sheikh discoursing with his Disciples by the Door of the Great Mosque; day after day passed by without daring to present himself; but the Master’s Eye was upon him; day by day draws him nearer and nearer—till at last the Sheikh announces to those about him—“Lo! this Day have I taken a Falcon in my Snare!”
Under him Jámi began his Súfi Noviciate, with such Devotion, and under such Fascination from the Master, that going, he tells us, but for one Summer Day’s Holiday into the Country, one single Line was enough to “lure the Tassel-gentle back again;”
“Lo! here am I, and Thou look’st on the Rose!”
By and bye he withdraws, by course of Súfi Instruction, into Solitude so long and profound, that on his Return to Men he has almost lost the Power of Converse with them. At last, when duly taught, and duly authorized to teach as Súfi Doctor, he yet will not, though solicited by those who had seen such a Vision of Him as had drawn Himself to Herát; [p. x] and not till the Evening of his Life is he to be seen with White hairs taking that place by the Mosque which his departed Master had been used to occupy before.
Meanwhile he had become Poet, which no doubt winged his Reputation and Doctrine far and wide through Nations to whom Poetry is a vital Element of the Air they breathe. “A Thousand times,” he says, “I have repented of such Employment; but I could no more shirk it than one can shirk what the Pen of Fate has written on his Forehead”—“As Poet I have resounded through the World; Heaven filled itself with my Song, and the Bride of Time adorned her Ears and Neck with the Pearls of my Verse, whose coming Caravan the Persian Hafíz and Saadi came forth gladly to salute, and the Indian Khosrú and Hasan hailed as a Wonder of the World.” “The Kings of India and Rúm greet me by Letter: the Lords of Irák and Tabríz load me with Gifts; and what shall I say of those of Khorasán, who drown me in an Ocean of Munificence?”
This, though Oriental, is scarcely Bombast. Jámi was honoured by Princes at home and abroad, and at the very time they were cutting one another’s Throats; by his own Sultan Abou Saïd; by Hasan Beg of Mesopotamia—“Lord of Tabríz”—by whom Abou Saïd was defeated, dethroned, and slain; by Mahomet II. of Turkey—“King of Rúm”—who in his turn defeated Hasan; and lastly by [p. xi] Husein Mirza Baikara, who extinguished the Prince whom Hasan had set up in Abou’s Place at Herát. Such is the House that Jack builds in Persia.
As Hasan Beg, however—the Usuncassan of old European Annals—is singularly connected with the present Poem, and with probably the most important event in Jámi’s Life, I will briefly follow the Steps that led to that as well as other Princely Intercourse.
In A.H. 877, A.D. 1472, Jámi set off on his Pilgrimage to Mecca. He, and, on his Account, the Caravan he went with, were honourably and safely escorted through the intervening Countries by order of their several Potentates as far as Bagdad. There Jámi fell into trouble by the Treachery of a Follower he had reproved, and who (born 400 Years too soon) misquoted Jámi’s Verse into disparagement of Ali, the Darling Imám of Persia. This getting wind at Bagdad, the thing was brought to solemn Tribunal, at which Hasan Beg’s two Sons assisted. Jámi came victoriously off; his Accuser pilloried with a dockt Beard in Bagdad Marketplace: but the Poet was so ill pleased with the stupidity of those who believed the Report, that, standing in Verse upon the Tigris’ side, he calls for a Cup of Wine to seal up Lips of whose Utterance the Men of Bagdad were unworthy.
After 4 months’ stay there, during which he visits at Helleh the Tomb of Ali’s Son, Husein, who had fallen at [p. xii] Kerbela, he sets forth again—to Najaf, where he says his Camel sprang forward at sight of Ali’s own Tomb—crosses the Desert in 22 days, meditating on the Prophet’s Glory, to Medina; and so at last to Mecca, where, as he sang in a Ghazal, he went through all Mahommedan Ceremony with a Mystical Understanding of his Own.
He then turns Homeward: is entertained for 45 days at Damascus, which he leaves the very Day before the Turkish Mahomet’s Envoys come with 5000 Ducats to carry him to Constantinople. Arriving at Amida, the Capital of Mesopotamia (Diyak bakar), he finds War broken out in full Flame between that Mahomet and Hasan Beg, King of the Country, who has Jámi honourably escorted through the dangerous Roads to Tabríz; there receives him in Diván, “frequent and full” of Sage and Noble (Hasan being a great Admirer of Learning), and would fain have him abide at Court awhile. Jámi, however, is intent on Home, and once more seeing his aged Mother—for he is turned of Sixty!—and at last touches Herát in the Month of Schaaban, 1473, after the Average Year’s absence.
This is the Hasan, “in Name and Nature Handsome” (and so described by some Venetian Ambassadors of the Time), of whose protection Jámi speaks in the Preliminary Vision of this Poem, which he dedicates to Hasan’s Son, Yacúb Beg: [p. xiii] who, after the due murder of an Elder Brother, succeeded to the Throne; till all the Dynasties of “Black and White Sheep” together were swept away a few years after by Ismael, Founder of the Sofí Dynasty in Persia.
Arrived at home, Jámi finds Husein Mirza Baikara, last of the Timúridae, fast seated there; having probably slain ere Jámi went the Prince whom Hasan had set up; but the date of a Year or Two may well wander in the Bloody Jungle of Persian History. Husein, however, receives Jámi with open Arms; Nisamuddín Ali Schír, his Vizir, a Poet too, had hailed in Verse the Poet’s Advent from Damascus as “The Moon rising in the West;” and they both continued affectionately to honour him as long as he lived.
Jámi sickened of his mortal Illness on the 13th of Moharrem, 1492—a Sunday. His Pulse began to fail on the following Friday, about the Hour of Morning Prayer, and stopped at the very moment when the Muezzin began to call to Evening. He had lived Eighty-one years. Sultan Husein undertook the Burial of one whose Glory it was to have lived and died in Dervish Poverty; the Dignities of the Kingdom followed him to the Grave; where 20 days afterward was recited in presence of the Sultan and his Court an Eulogy composed by the Vizír, who also laid the first Stone of a Monument to his Friend’s Memory—the first Stone of [p. xiv] “Tarbet’i Jámi,” in the Street of Mesched, a principal Thoro’fare of the City of Herát. For, says Rosenzweig, it must be kept in mind that Jámi was reverenced not only as a Poet and Philosopher, but as a Saint also; who not only might work a Miracle himself, but leave the Power lingering about his Tomb. It was known that once in his Life, an Arab, who had falsely accused him of selling a Camel he knew to be mortally unsound, had very shortly after died, as Jámi had predicted, and on the very selfsame spot where the Camel fell. And that Libellous Rogue at Bagdad—he, putting his hand into his Horse’s Nose-bag to see if “das Thier” has finisht his Corn, had his Fore-finger bitten off by the same—“von demselben der Zeigefinger abgebissen”—of which “Verstümmlung” he soon died—I suppose, as he ought, of Lock jaw.
The Persians, who are adepts at much elegant Ingenuity, are fond of commemorating Events by some analogous Word or Sentence whose Letters, cabalistically corresponding to certain Numbers, compose the Date required. In Jámi’s case they have hit upon the word “Kas,” A Cup, whose signification brings his own name to Memory, and whose relative Letters make up his 81 years. They have Taríks also for remembering the Year of his Death: Rosenzweig gives some; but Ouseley the prettiest, if it will hold:—
Dúd az Khorásán bar ámed—
“The smoke” of Sighs “went up from Khorásán.”
[p. xv]
No Biographer, says Rosenzweig cautiously, records of Jámi that he had more than one Wife (Grand-daughter of his Master Sheikh) and Four Sons; which, however, are Five too many for the Doctrine of this Poem. Of the Sons, Three died Infant; and the Fourth (born to him in very old Age), and for whom he wrote some Elementary Tracts, and the more famous “Beharistan” lived but a few years, and was remembered by his Father in the Preface to his Chiradnameh Iskander—a book of Morals, which perhaps had also been begun for the Boy’s Instruction.
Of Jámi’s wonderful Fruitfulness—“bewunderungswerther Fruchtbarkeit”—as Writer, Rosenzweig names Forty-four offsprings—the Letters of the word “Jám” completing by the aforesaid process that very Number. But Shár Khán Lúdi in his “Memoirs of the Poets,” says Ouseley, counts him Author of Ninety-nine Volumes of Grammar, Poetry, and Theology, which “ continue to be universally admired in all parts of the Eastern World, Iran, Turin, and Hindustan”—copied some of them into precious Manuscript, illuminated with Gold and Painting, by the greatest Penmen and Artists of the Time; one such—the “Beharistan”—said to have cost Thousands of Pounds—autographed as one most precious treasure of their Libraries by two Sovereign Descendants of Timúr upon the Throne of Hindustan; and now reposited away from “the Drums and Tramplings” of Oriental [p. xvi] Conquest in the tranquil Seclusion of an English Library.
Of these Ninety-nine, or Forty-four Volumes few are known, and none except the Present and one other Poem ever printed, in England, where the knowledge of Persian might have been politically useful. The Poet’s name with us is almost solely associated with “Yúsuf and Zulaikha,” which, with the other two I have mentioned, count Three of the Brother Stars of that Constellation into which Jámi, or his Admirers, have clustered his Seven best Mystical Poems under the name of “Heft Aurang”—those “Seven Thrones” to which we of the West and North give our characteristic Name of “Great Bear” and “Charles’s Wain.”
He must have enjoyed great Favour and Protection from his Princes at home, or he would hardly have ventured to write so freely as in this Poem he does of Doctrine which exposed the Súfí to vulgar abhorrence and Danger. Hafíz and others are apologized for as having been obliged to veil a Divinity beyond what “The Prophet” dreamt of under the Figure of Mortal Cup and Cup-bearer. Jámi speaks in Allegory too, by way of making a palpable grasp at the Skirt of the Ineffable; but he also dares, in the very thick of Mahommedanism, to talk of Reason as sole Fountain of Prophecy; and to pant for what would seem so Pantheistic an Identification with the [p. xvii] Deity as shall blind him to any distinction between Good and Evil. [2]
I must not forget one pretty passage of Jámi’s Life. He had a nephew, one Maulána Abdullah, who was ambitious of following his Uncle’s Footsteps in Poetry. Jámi first dissuaded him; then, by way of trial whether he had a Talent as well as a Taste, bid him imitate Firdusi’s Satire on Shah Mahmúd. The Nephew did so well, that Jámi then encouraged him to proceed; himself wrote the first Couplet of his First (and most noted) Poem—Laila & Majnun.
This Book of which the Pen has now laid the Foundation,
May the diploma of Acceptance one day befall it,—
and Abdallah went on to write that and four other Poems which Persia continues and multiplies in fine Manuscript and Illumination to the present day, remembering their Author under his Takhalus of Hátifi—“The Voice from Heaven ”and Last of the so reputed Persian Poets.
vii:1 Such final “uddins” signify “Of the Faith.” “Maulána” may be taken as “Master” in Learning, Law, etc. ↩︎
xvii:1 “Je me souvíens d’un Prédicateur à Ispahan qui, prêchant un jour dans une Place publique, parla furieusement contre ces Soufys, disant qu’ ils étoient des Athées à bruler; qu ’il s’étonnoit qu ’on les laissât vivre; et que de tuer un Soufy étoit une Action plus agréable à Dieu que de conserver la Vie à dix Hommes de Bien. Cinq ou Six Soufys qui étoient parmi les Auditeurs se jettèrent sur lui après le Sermon et le battirent terriblement; et comme je m’efforçois de les empêcher ils me disoient—‘Un homme qui prêche le Meurtre doit-il se plaindre d’être battu?’”—Chardin. ↩︎