through al-ʿImādiyyah, past the Great ʿĀdiliyyah, then onto the Thulth al-Nāṭafāniyyīn, for the alley of Bāb al-Barīd had been demolished for repairs. They entered the Umayyad Mosque with the bier, and crowds packed the place before it, behind it, to its right and to its left—none but Allah could count their number.
A voice suddenly cried out—indeed, two voices: “Such are the funerals of the Imams of the Sunnah!” At that the people broke into sobs and raised their voices. The shaykh was laid in the spot reserved for biers, adjacent to the maqṣūrah. Because of the press of humanity the worshippers could not form rows; they sat shoulder to shoulder, so tightly packed that no one could prostrate without great effort. The entire interior of the mosque was filled, and the crush spilled into the alleys and markets. All this took place a little before the noon adhān, and people converged from every direction.
(1) Many even resolved to fast, realizing that on such a day they would have no leisure for food or drink. The numbers grew beyond all reckoning or description. When the noon call to prayer ended, the prayer itself was held immediately, upon the elevated platform—contrary to custom. When they had finished, the deputy khaṭīb, for the khaṭīb was away in Egypt, came forward and led the funeral prayer. He was Shaykh ʿAlāʾ al-Dīn al-Kharrāṭ.
(2) Then the people poured out from every gate of the mosque and from all parts of the city, as we have said, and gathered in the Horse Market. Some, after praying in the mosque, hastened on to the Cemetery of the Ṣūfīs. The people wept and uttered the tahlīl in hushed voices, each to himself, offering praise and lamentation. Women stood on the rooftops all the way to the cemetery, weeping, supplicating, and saying, “There goes the scholar.”
In short, it was a day to be witnessed, the like of which Damascus had never seen—(3) save, perhaps, in the days of the Umayyads, when the population was large and it was the seat of the caliphate. He was buried beside his brother shortly before the ʿAṣr adhān, exactly. No one could calculate how many attended the funeral; in essence, everyone in the city and its suburbs who could possibly come was present. Only a few small children and women in seclusion stayed behind. I know of no scholar who failed to attend except a mere handful, three persons in all: Ibn Jumlah, al-Ṣadr, and al-Qaḥfāzī. These men were notorious for their hostility toward him, so they hid from the people, fearing for their lives, certain that if they ventured out the crowds would kill them.
(4) Our teacher, the eminent scholar Burhān al-Dīn al-Fazārī, visited his grave for three days, as did a number of Shāfiʿī scholars. Burhān al-Dīn would come mounted on his donkey, clothed in dignity and gravity—may Allah have mercy on him.
Numerous complete Quran readings were dedicated to him, and he was seen in many wondrous, righteous dreams (5). He was elegized in abundant poetry, including lengthy qaṣīdas (6). A great many separate biographies were composed for him, penned by scholars and others alike; I shall now present a concise overview