The Speeches & Table-Talk of the Prophet Mohammad, Muhammad ibn 'Abd Allah [speed reading book TXT] 📗

of your Lord will ye deny?” There is little but this appeal to nature in the first part of the speeches at Mekka. The prophet was in too exalted a state during these early years to stoop to argument; he rather seeks to dazzle the sense with brilliant images of God’s workings in creation. “Verily in the creation of the heavens and the earth are signs to you, if ye would understand.” His sentences have a rhythmical ring though they are not in true metre. The lines are very short, yet with a musical cadence. The meaning is often but half expressed. The poet seems impatiently to stop as if he despaired of explaining himself: he has essayed a thing beyond words, has discovered the impotence of language, and broken off with the sentence unfinished. The style is throughout fiery and impassioned. The words are those of a man whose whole heart is bent on convincing, and they carry with them even now the impression of the burning vehemence with which they were originally hurled forth. These earliest speeches are generally brief. They are pitched too high to be long sustained. We feel we have here to do with a poet as well as a preacher, and that his poetry costs him too much to be spun out.

In urging to repentance and faith, Mohammad’s great weapon is the judgment to come—the day of retribution, when all mankind shall be arraigned before the throne of God; and those who have done good shall be given the book of the record of their actions in their right hand, and enjoy abiding happiness in gardens, under which the rivers flow; whilst the wicked shall receive his damning record in his left hand, and be dragged by heel and hair to hell, to broil therein for ever. The day of judgment is a stern reality to Mohammad. It is never out of his thoughts, and he says himself that if men realised what that day was, they would weep much and laugh little. He is never tired of depicting its terrors, and cannot find names enough to describe it. He calls it the Hour, the Mighty Day, the great Calamity, the Inevitable Fact, the Smiting, the Overwhelming, the Hard Day, the Promised Day, the Day of Decision.

The high poetic fervour of the first group of Mekka speeches is to some extent lost in the Second, and still more in the Third period, corresponding to the fifth and sixth years, and from thence to the Hijra, respectively, and each comprising twenty-one speeches. The change is partly one of style, partly of matter. The verses and the speeches themselves become longer and more rambling; the resonant oaths by all the wonders of nature are exchanged for the mild asseveration, “By the Korān.” There is more self-assertion and formality, and the special words of God are as it were italicised by the prefixed verb, “Say.” It must be remembered that the speeches of the Korān are all supposed to be the utterances of God in propriâ personâ, of whom Mohammad is only the mouthpiece. The apparent vindications and laudations of the prophet himself are explicable from this point of view; and the reader must never forget it when he is perplexed by the “we” (God), and “thou” (Mohammad), and “ye” (the audience), of the Korān. The most important alteration to be observed in the progress of the orations at Mekka is the introduction of numerous stories derived, with considerable corruptions, from the Jewish Haggadah. More than fifteen hundred verses, nearly a quarter of the Kur-ān, are occupied with wearisome repetitions of these legends. They are to be seen methodically arranged in Lane’s Selections from the Kur-ān, and I need only say that, with the exception of one or two typical examples (like the speech called The Moon, p. 41), and a few digressions in speeches (like The Children of Israel, p. 57) that were too important to be omitted, these tales are excluded from the present collection. Their only real interest is Mohammad’s use of them as evidence of the continuity of revelation. He believed that all preceding prophets were inspired of God, and that they taught the same faith as himself. From Adam to Jesus they all brought their messages to their people, and were rejected. He makes them exhort their people in precisely similar words to those with which he exhorts the Koreysh. There is nothing new in his own doctrine, he says, it is but the teaching of Abraham, of Moses, of Christ, of all the prophets. But it is the last and best, the seal of prophecy, after which no other will be given before the Great Day. It supersedes or confirms all that goes before.

Quite half of the second group of Mekka speeches consists of these Jewish legends. There are not so many in the third, and none in the first. But if the Third does not contain quite so many of these tedious fables, it is even tamer in style. Mohammad seems to be cataloguing the signs of nature mechanically, and he is constantly recurring to the charge of forgery which was often brought against him, or to the demand for miracles, which he always frankly admitted he could not gratify. I am only a warner, he said; I cannot show you a sign—a miracle—except what ye see every day and night. Signs are with God: He who could make the heavens could easily show you a sign if He pleased; beware, lest one day ye see a sign indeed, and taste in hell that which ye called a lie! That the old eloquence, in spite of repetition and wearing trouble, was not dead, may be seen from the speech called Thunder (p. 104), where the nature painting is as fine as anywhere in the Korān.

The first great division of Mohammad’s speeches, then, is oratorical rather than dogmatic. He has a great dogma, indeed, and uses every resource to recommend it. But there is little detail in these ninety Mekka speeches. Hardly any definite laws or precepts are to be found in them, and most of these in the speech entitled The Children of Israel (p. 57). Certain general rules of prayer are given, hospitality and thrift are commended in a breath, “Let not thy hand be chained to thy neck, nor yet stretch it out right open;” infanticide, inchastity, homicide (save in blood-revenge), the robbing of orphans, a false balance, usury, a broken covenant, and a proud stomach, are denounced; certain foods are prohibited; and the whole duty of man is thus briefly summed up:—“Say: I am only a man like you: I am inspired that your God is but One God. Then let him who hopeth to meet his Lord do righteousness, and join no (idol) in his worship of God.”

There is little here of a complicated ritual or a metaphysical theology. Thus far the social and religious laws which we associate with Islām are not found in the Mohammadan Bible. We hear only the voice crying in the wilderness, “Hear ye, people! The Lord your God is one Lord.”

Mohammad’s position at Medina was totally different from that he occupied at Mekka. Instead of a struggling reformer, despised and ridiculed by almost every man he met, he was a king, ruling a large city with despotic power, and needing every resource of statecraft to maintain order among its contentious elements. There was a large party, known in the Korān as the “Disaffected” or “Hypocrites,” who found it politic to profess Islām, but were ready to avail themselves of any propitious occasion to overturn or injure it. Still more important were the Jewish Arab tribes settled at Medina, who at first hoped to find a tool to their hands in the new prophet, who seemed to teach something very like Judaism; but who, when they found him unmanageable, straightway turned upon him with double malignity, and exerted themselves in all treacherous ways to countermine his authority and help his enemies within and without the city. Mohammad has been blamed for the severity with which he suppressed the rebellious parties in his state, and the sentences of exile and death passed upon the Jews have been regarded as proofs of a vindictive nature. An impartial study of the facts of the case, however, shows plainly that strong measures were needed for the preservation of the Muslim religion and polity; and the vigorous blows struck by Mohammad at rebellion in the beginning probably saved bloodshed afterwards. Whilst the prophet’s supremacy was being established and maintained among the mixed population of Medina, a vigorous warfare was carried on outside with his old persecutors, the Koreysh. On the history of this war, consisting as it did mainly of small raids and attacks upon caravans, I need not dwell. Its leading features were the two battles of Bedr and Ohud, in the first of which three hundred Muslims, though outnumbered at the odds of three to one, were completely victorious (a.d. 624, a.h. 2); whilst at Ohud, being outnumbered in the like proportion, and deserted by the “Disaffected” party, they were almost as decisively defeated (a.h. 3). Two years later the Koreysh gathered together their allies, advanced upon Medina, and besieged it for fifteen days; but the foresight of Mohammad in digging a trench, and the enthusiasm of the Muslims in defending it, resisted all assaults, and the coming of the heavy storms for which the climate of Medina is noted drove the enemy back to Mekka. The next year (a.h. 6) a ten years’ truce (see The Victory, p. 124, and notes) was concluded with the Koreysh, in pursuance of which a strange scene took place in the following spring. It was agreed that Mohammad and his people should perform the Lesser Pilgrimage, and that the Koreysh should for that purpose vacate Mekka for three days. Accordingly in March 629, about two thousand Muslims, with Mohammad at their head on his famous camel, El-Kaswa,—the camel on which he had fled from Mekka,—trooped down the valley and performed the rites which every Muslim to this day observes.

“It was surely a strange sight which at this time presented itself in the vale of Mekka, a sight unique in the history of the world. The ancient city is for three days evacuated by all its inhabitants, high and low, every house deserted; and as they retire, the exiled converts, many years banished from their birthplace, approach in a great body, accompanied by their allies, revisit the empty homes of their childhood, and within the short allotted space fulfil the rites of pilgrimage. The ousted inhabitants, climbing the heights around, take refuge under tents or other shelter among the hills and glens; and clustering on the overhanging peak of Abu-Kubeys, thence watch the movements of the visitors beneath them, as with the Prophet at their head they make the circuit of the Kaaba and the rapid procession between Es-Safā and Marwah; and anxiously scan every figure if perchance they may recognise among the worshippers some long lost friend or relative. It was a scene rendered possible only by the throes which gave birth to Islām.” When the three days were over, Mohammad and his party peaceably returned to Medina, and the Mekkans re-entered their homes. But this pilgrimage, and the self-restraint of the Muslims therein, advanced the cause of Islām among its enemies. Converts increased daily, and some leading men of the Koreysh went over to Mohammad. The clans around were sending-in deputations of homage. But the final keystone was set in the 8th year of the flight (a.d. 630), when a body of Koreysh broke