THE CULT OF THE BLOOD OF MOHAMMED
During the long centuries of uncertain Turkish rule, there had
persisted, in the sacred cities of the Hedjaz, “the cult of the
Blood of Mohammed,” with its membership limited to descendants of
the Prophet. These people were called shereefs or nobles by the
other Arabs, and they had never lost their hatred for the Turks,
whom they regarded as intruders. So powerful was this cult that
the Ottoman Government could not destroy it. However, when shereefs
living within reach of the string of fortified Turkish posts along
the fringe of the desert protested openly against Ottoman tyranny,
the sultan usually “invited” them to come and reside near him in
Constantinople. There they would either remain as virtual prisoners
or quietly be put out of the way. Abdul Hamid, the last great
sultan, was an expert in following this private policy of his
predecessors, and among the prominent Arabs he found it the better
part of discretion to have near him at the Sublime Porte was one
Shereef Hussein of Mecca. He was the oldest living descendant of
Mohammed and was therefore believed by many to be the man really
entitled to the califate, the spiritual and temporal head of Islam.
The title of calif had originally been given only to the lineal
descendants of Mohammed but later had been usurped by the Turks.
No people in the world take more pride in their ancestry than the
Arabs. The births of all the leading princely families are recorded
in Mecca at the mosque built around the black stone which millions
of people regard as the most sacred spot in the world. Here, on a
scroll of parchment, is inscribed the name of Hussein Ibn Ali,
direct lineal descendant of Mohammed through his daughter Fatima
and her eldest son Hassan.
When King Hussein was young, he had too much spirit to live tamely
with his family in Mecca. Instead, he roamed the desert with the
Bedouins and took part in all their raids and tribal wars. His
mother was a Circassian, and much of his vigor is inherited from
her. Abdul Hamid, the Red Sultan, received many disturbing reports
regarding the wild life led by this independent shereef. Abdul had
two ways of dealing with a man whom he feared or distrusted. He
would either tie him in a sack and throw him into the Bosporus or
keep him in Constantinople under close personal observation.
Although he was afraid that Hussein might conspire against him,
the fact that Hussein was a direct descendant of Mohammed made it
difficult for old Abdul to chuck him into the Bosporus. So he gave
him a pension and a little house on the Golden Horn, where the
shereef and his family were compelled to live for eighteen years.
Map: The war in the land of the Arabian Nights commenced at the
holy city of Mecca, after which Emir Feisal and Colonel Lawrence
led the Arab army while it fought its way north across the desert
for over a thousand miles to Aleppo. Dotted line indicates the
region covered by this narrative.
Photograph: A MUEZZIN CALLING THE FAITHFUL TO PRAYER
When the revolution of the Young Turks came in 1912 and Abdul was
overthrown, all political prisoners were released from
Constantinople, and Hussein and other Arab Nationalist leaders
thought they saw the dawn of a new era of freedom and liberty. In
fact, they too had assisted the Young Turks in overthrowing the
old régime. But their hopes were soon dispelled, for the new
Committee of Unity and Progress rashly set out to Ottomanize all
the peoples of that complex of races which made up the Turkish
Empire. They even went so far as to insist that the Arabs should
give up their beautiful language—“the tongue of the angels”—and
substitute the corrupt Ottoman dialect. It was not long before
Hussein discovered that the Committee of Unity and Progress, headed
by Enver, Talaat, and Djemal, was far more tyrannical than old
Abdul in his bloodiest moments. They now looked back on the
villainous Abdul as a harmless old gentleman in comparison with
his successors. The Young Turks even suggested that in the Koran
Turkish heroes should be substituted for the ancient patriarchs.
Words of Arabic origin were deleted from the Turkish vocabulary.
In Mecca the exaggerated story was told that the Turks were
reverting to the ancient heathenism of Othman and that soldiers in
Constantinople were required to pray to the White Wolf, a deity of
the barbaric days before the Ottoman horde left its early home in
the wilds of Central Asia.
Although the Arab leaders despaired of seeing a happier day for
their country, Shereef Hussein and his sons concealed their hatred
for the autocratic triumvirate and the whole Young Turk party.
Because of the help he had given the triumvirate before he was
disillusioned as to their real aims, they granted him the title of
Keeper of the Holy Places of Islam, or the sixty-sixth Emir of
Mecca of the Ottoman period.
Miss Gertrude Bell, the only woman staff captain in the British
army and one of the foremost authorities on Near Eastern affairs,
in a letter to “The Times” of London declared that the Arab
Nationalist movement was given vitality by the Young Turks, who as
soon as they came into power changed their whole attitude.
“Liberty and equality are dangerous words to play with in an empire
composed of divergent nationalities,” wrote Miss Bell. “Of these
the Arabs, adaptable and quick-witted, proudly alive to their
traditions of past glory as founders of Islam, and upholders for
700 years of the authority of the Khilafat, were the first to claim
the translation of promise into performance, and in the radiant
dawn of the constitutional era the Arab _intelligentsia_ eagerly
anticipated that their claim would be recognised. If the Turks had
responded with a genuine attempt to allow Arab culture to develop
along its own lines under their ægis, the Ottoman Empire might have
taken on new life, but their inelastic mentality precluded them
from embracing the golden opportunity. Moreover, Prussian militarism
made to them a peculiarly powerful, and, if the political
configuration of their Empire be considered, a peculiarly dangerous
appeal. The Committee of Union and Progress was determined to hack
its way through the sensibilities of subject races, and, not
content with this formidable task, by neglecting the cautious
diplomatic methods of Abdul Hamid it found itself involved in a
disastrous and debilitating struggle with its neighbour States in
Europe.
“Before the war of 1914 broke out, not only were the Arab provinces
filled with hatred and desire for vengeance . . .”
In the luxurious atmosphere of the Ottoman metropolis Hussein’s
four sons quite naturally had grown up more like young Turkish
bloods than Arab youths. They had spent most of their time rowing
on the Bosporus and attending court balls. For six years, Prince
Feisal had acted as private secretary to Abdul Hamid. When the
Grand Shereef returned to Mecca he immediately summoned his four
sons and informed them that they were altogether too effete and
too accustomed to the soft ways of Stamboul to suit him.
“Constantinople and its accursed life of luxury are now behind
thee. Praise be to Allah! Henceforth thou art to make thy home
under the canopy of heaven with thy brothers of the black tents in
order that the glory of our house may not be disgraced. Allahu
Akbar!” So saying the aged emir fitted the deed to the word and
ordered them out to patrol the pilgrim routes. These routes are
mere camel-tracks across the burning sands connecting the Red Sea
coast with Mecca, the Holy City, and the summer capital of Taif,
and between Medina and Mecca. With each of his sons he sent a
company of his best fighting men. They were not even permitted to
use tents but were compelled to sleep in their cloaks. They spent
their days chasing robbers. The worst robbers in the desert are
the men of the Harith clan, some one hundred outlaws, nearly all
of them banished members of Shereefian families. These men of
Harith had entrenched themselves in a naturally fortified village
fifty miles northeast of Mecca. Expeditions against them and other
bandits developed Hussein’s sons into self-reliant, capable leaders.
That Emir Feisal is such a prominent figure in the Near East to-day
is not entirely because of his royal blood but partly because he
excels in ways which make for leadership in the Arabian Desert.
These are not a knowledge of bridge or Browning!
Ali, the eldest son, is a small, thin, well-groomed prince. He has
delightful manners, great personal charm, and is an accomplished
diplomat. He is deeply religious, the essence of generosity, and
a martinet on all questions of morality. Like the other members of
his family he has far-reaching views and aspirations for his
country. But he has no personal aspirations beyond the emirate of
Mecca, to which he will, in all probability, fall heir at the death
of his father. Abdullah, the second son, is ambitious and vigorous
but is not quite such an idealist. At the termination of the war
he became the ruler of Transjordania, with a famous English traveler
by the name of St. John Philby as his adviser. The youngest member
of the family, Prince Zeid, is half Turk. There is not so much of
the Oriental about him, and when the revolt was at its height he
still lacked the seriousness of his older brothers. This youth left
such solid enthusiasms as Arab nationalism to the rest of his
family and devoted himself to fighting and to the lighter joys of
life, as one would expect from a normal prince in his early
twenties. He is nevertheless rich in common sense. Zeid loves
hunting, riding, and dancing. After the Arabs and Anzacs took
Damascus he jazzed all over the city until Feisal convinced him
that he should conduct himself with greater dignity. He also is a
man of considerable charm and, if his ambition to attend Oxford is
realized, may yet prove himself the ablest of an illustrious
family.
Feisal, third and best known of Hussein’s four sons, is an idealist.
Although modest and reserved, he is a man of great personality.
Every Arab is a born diplomat, and Feisal is well above the average.
Children of the desert have few games. They do not know how to play
as our Western children do. Life is a serious and sober affair from
the moment the Arab baby opens his eyes on the woman’s side of the
black tent. As soon as he is able to crawl, he comes into the
tribal council. His only school is the coffee hearth; his only
education consists in the handling of men and camels.
Emir Feisal began life as a dirty little shepherd boy. His mother
was an Arab girl of Mecca and a cousin of his father. When Feisal
was a little baby, Shereef Hussein sent him into the desert to live
with a Bedouin tribe, because it is considered more beneficial for
a boy to grow up in the open desert country than in a city or
village. Later, in Constantinople, Feisal contracted consumption,
but since then the desert has cured him. He is still very thin,
however, and measures only twenty-one inches around the waist. He
smokes cigarettes day and night and eats sparingly. Among the
tribes he is considered an unusually fine shot and good horseman
and an excellent camel-rider. Feisal is enlightened and thoroughly
modern in his views, and Colonel Lawrence, who knows him better
than any one else, declares that he is as honest as daylight. His
people follow him not through fear but because they admire him and
love him. He is much too kind and liberal-minded to rule as an
Oriental despot of the old school. Given the opportunity, he may
be depended upon to do his utmost to usher in an entirely new order
of things for his people.
Certain statesmen of world prominence choose detective stories for
their moments of relaxation; Prince Feisal, in the lull between
campaigns, refreshed himself for renewed battle and the cares of
state with classical Arabic poetry. His favorite poet is Imr el
Kais, the most renowned of all Arab bards, who lived just before
Mohammed, and who wrote about camels, the desert, and love. Among
Feisal’s other favorites are Ibn Isham, Ibn el Ali, Zuhair, Zarafa,
Al Harith, and Mutanabbi, great writers of the Middle Ages, when
Arabian learning and culture penetrated to the most remote corners
of Europe. Mutanabbi’s couplet must have struck a responsive chord
in Feisal’s heart:
Night and my steed and the desert know me—
And the lance thrust and battle, and parchment and pen.
I also saw him frequently reading the works of Antara, the famous
poet who wrote a huge epic of his own life filled with tales of
raids and love lyrics. The recent war of liberation inspired many
new poets to arouse the people by means of patriotic songs. Even
the humblest camel-driver improvised songs built around Lawrence,
Feisal, and that celebrated warrior, Auda Abu Tayi.
Poetry, song, and proverb all exalt the virtue of hospitality among
the Arabs. An Arab, from Hussein down to the humblest of his
subjects, will risk his own life rather than allow any harm to
befall a guest, even if the latter happens to be his worst enemy.
For many months prior to the outbreak of the Arabian revolution,
Shereef Hussein and his sons were secretly preparing for it, while
leading the Turks to believe that they were mobilizing against the
Allies. Emir Feisal happened to be in Damascus during this period
as the guest of Djemal Pasha, the Turkish viceroy of Syria and
Palestine. His father sent word to him that he had succeeded in
gathering together a number of tribes for an attack on the Turkish
garrison at Medina; so Feisal excused himself on some pretext and
said he must return south. Djemal urged him to delay his departure
for a few days, saying that he and Enver Pasha would like to
accompany him to Medina. When Feisal arrived at Medina with Djemal
and Enver, they attended a review of over five thousand Arab
tribesmen who whirled by on camels and horses, firing their rifles
into the air. The two members of the Turkish triumvirate were
delighted with the warlike display and told Feisal that his men
would be of great assistance to the sultan and his illustrious
fellow-Mohammedan ruler, Kaiser William Pasha, in their war against
the Unbeliever.
That night, during the usual banquet, Ali Ibn Hussein, of the
robber Harith clan, and a number of other shereefs and sheiks stole
up to Feisal and whispered:
“We have the palace surrounded and are going to kill these Turkish
dogs.”
Realizing that his followers were in dead earnest, Feisal waved
them aside for the moment and, turning to Djemal and Enver, said:
“Now, gentlemen, according to our custom, after a banquet of this
kind, you must spend the night in my house.”
Feisal then established his guests in his own room and slept
outside the door all night. Without leaving them for a single
moment, he took them to the train the next morning and accompanied
them on their three-day journey to Damascus. This required no
little nerve, for if Djemal and Enver had suspected that anything
was wrong in Medina and that the Arabs did not intend to coöperate
with Turkey and Germany in the war, they would either have killed
Feisal or held him as a hostage to guarantee the good behavior of
his father.
An Arabian banquet is an occasion to be remembered. After the war
King Hussein entertained at the _Belediyah_, the town-hall of
Jeddah, in honor of Prince Georges Lotfallah of Egypt. Rows and
rows of small tables were placed end to end and then piled high
with food until they groaned under the weight. Eighty guests were
served at one sitting, and the waiters walked up and down on top
of the tables, looking down at you. If your plate was not full they
would slice off a slab of sheep or goat and then step over the cake
and attend to your neighbor. After the first eighty had dined, the
next sitting was served in like manner.