On this last paragraph it is worth noticing that its threefold distinction is “conveyed” by Ibn Rushd from a little book belonging to al-Ghazzali’s later life, after he had turned to the study of tradition, _Iljam al-Awamm an ilm al-kalam_, “The reining in of the commonalty from the science of kalam.” Such was, practically, the end of the Muslim Aristotelians. Some flickers of philosophic study doubtless remained. So we find a certain Abu-l-Hajjaj ibn Tumlus (d. 620) writing on Aristotle’s “Analytics,” and the tractates of Ibn Rushd described above were copied at Almeria in 724. But the fate of all Muslim speculation fell, and this school went out in Sufiism. It was not Ibn Rushd that triumphed but Ibn Tufayl, and that side of Ibn Tufayl which was akin to al-Ghazzali. From this point on, the thinkers and writers of Islam become mystics more and more overwhelmingly. Dogmatic theology itself falls behind, and of philosophical disciplines only formal logic and a metaphysics of the straitest scholastic type are left. Philosophy becomes the handmaid of theology, and a very mechanical handmaid at that. It is only in the schools of the Sufis that we find real development and promise of life. The future lay with them, however dubious it may seem to us that a future in such charge must be. [Sidenote: IBN ARABI] The greatest Sufi in the Arabic-speaking world was undoubtedly Muhyi ad-Din ibn Arabi. He was born in Murcia in 560, studied _hadith_ and _fiqh_ at Seville, and in 598 set out to travel in the East. He wandered through the Hijaz, Mesopotamia and Asia Minor, and died at Damascus in 638, leaving behind him an enormous mass of writings, at least 150 of which have come down to us. Why he left Spain is unknown; it is plain that he was under the influence of the Muwahhid movement. He was a Zahirite in law; rejected analogy, opinion, and _taqlid_, but admitted agreement. His attachment to the opinions of Ibn Hazm especially was very strong. He edited some of that scholar’s works, and was only prevented by his objections to _taqlid_ from being a formal Hazmite. But with all that literalness in _fiqh_, his mysticism in theology was of the most rampant and luxurious description. Between the two sides, it is true, there existed a connection of a kind. He had no need for analogy or opinion or for any of the workings of the vain human intelligence so long as the divine light was flooding his soul and he saw the things of the heavens with plain vision. So his books are a strange jumble of theosophy and metaphysical paradoxes, all much like the theosophy of our own day. He evidently took the system of the mutakallims and played with it by means of formal logic and a lively imagination. To what extent he was sincere in his claim of heavenly illuminings and mysterious powers it would be hard to say. The oriental mystic has little difficulty in deceiving himself. His opinions—so far as we can know them—may be briefly sketched