STRIFE AND MEDITATION
"God hath treasuries beneath the throne, the keys whereof are the tongues
of poets."--MAHOMET.
The Arabian calendar has always been in a distinctive manner subject to
the religion of the people. Before Mahomet imposed his faith upon Mecca,
there were four sacred months following each other, in which no war might
be waged. For four months, therefore, the tumultuous Arab spirit was
restrained from that most precious to it; pilgrimages to holy places were
undertaken, and there was a little leisure for the cultivation of art and
learning.
The Greater Pilgrimage to Mecca, comprising the sevenfold circuit of the
Kaaba and the kissing of the sacred Black Stone, and culminating in a
procession to the holy places of Mina and Arafat, could only be
undertaken in Dzul-Higg, corresponding in the time of Mahomet to our
March. The month preceding, Dzul-Cada, was occupied in a kind of
preparation and rejoicing, which took the form of a fair at Ocatz, three
days' journey east of Mecca, when representatives of all the surrounding
nations used to assemble to exchange merchandise, to take part in the
games, to listen to the contests in poetry and rhetoric, and sometimes to
be roused into sinister excitement at the proximity of so many tribes
differing from them in nationality, and often in their religion and moral
code.
Into this vast concourse came Mahomet, a lad of fifteen, eager to see,
hear, and know. He was present at the poetic contests, and caught from
the protagonists a reflection of their vivid, fitful eloquence, with its
ceaseless undercurrent of monotony.
Romance, in so far as it represents the love of the strange, is a product
of the West. There is a rigidity in the Eastern mind that does not allow
of much change or seeking after new things. Wild and beautiful as this
poetry of Arabia is, its themes and their manner of treatment seldom
vary; as the desert is changeless in contour, filled with a brilliant
sameness, whirling at times into sombre fury and as suddenly subsiding,
so is the literature which it fostered. The monotony is expressed in a
reiteration of subject, barbarous to the intellect of the West; endurance
is born of that monotony, and strength, and the acquiescence in things as
they are, but not the discovery and development of ideas. Arabia does not
flash forth a new presentment of beauty, following the vivid apprehension
of some lovely form, but broods over it in a kind of slumbering
enthusiasm that mounts at last into a glory of metaphor, drowning the
subject in intensest light. The rival poets assembled to discover who
could turn the deftest phrases in satire of the opposing tribe, or extol
most eloquently the bravery and skill of his own people, the beauty and
modesty of their women, and from these wild outpourings Mahomet learnt to
clothe his thoughts in that splendid garment whose jewels illumine the
earlier part of the Kuran.
Perhaps more important than the poetical contests was the religious
aspect of the fair at Ocatz. Here were gathered Jew, Christian, and
Arabian worshipper of many gods, in a vast hostile confusion. Mahomet was
familiar with Jewish cosmogony from his knowledge of their faith within
his own land, and he had heard dimly of the Christian principles during
his Syrian journey. But here, though both Jews and Christians claimed to
be worshippers of a single God, and although the Jews took for their
protector Abraham, the mighty founder of Mahomet's own city, yet there
was nothing between all the sects but fruitless strife. He saw the Jews
looking disdainfully upon the Christian dogs, and the Christians firmly
convinced that an irrevocable doom would shortly descend upon every Jew.
Both united in condemning to eternal wrath the idol-worshippers of the
Kaaba. It was a fiercely outspoken, remorseless enmity that he saw around
him, and the impotence born of distrust he saw also.
It is not possible that any hint of his future mission enlightened him as
to the part he was to play in eliminating this conflict, but may it not
be that there was sown in his mind a seed of thought concerning the
uselessness of all this strife of religions, and the limitless power that
might accrue to his nation if it could but be persuaded to become united
in allegiance to the one true God? For even at that early stage Mahomet,
with the examples of Judaism and Christianity before him, must have
rejected, even if unthinkingly, the polytheistic idea.
The poetic and warlike contests partook of the fiery earnestness
characteristic of the combatants, and it was seldom that the fair at
Ocatz passed by without some hostile demonstration. The greatest rivals
were the Kureisch and the Hawazin, a tribe dwelling between Mecca and
Taif.
The Hawazin were tumultuous and unruly, and the Kureisch ever ready to
rouse their hostility by numerous small slights and taunts. We read
traditionally of an insult by some Kureisch youths towards a girl of the
Hawazin; this incident was closed peaceably, but some years later the
Kureisch (always the aggressive party because of their stronghold in
Mecca) committed an outrage that could not be passed over. As the fair
progressed, news came of the murder of a Hawazin, chief of a caravan, and
the seizure of his treasure by an ally of the Kureisch. That tribe,
knowing themselves at a disadvantage and fearing vengeance, fled back to
Mecca. The Hawazin pursued them remorselessly to the borders of the
sacred precincts, beyond which it was sacrilegious to wage war. Some
traditions say they followed their foe undaunted by fear of divine wrath,
and thus incurred a double disgrace of having fought in the sacred month
and within the sacred territory. But their pursuit cannot have lasted
long, because we find them challenging the Kureisch to battle at the same
time the next year. All Mahomet's uncles took part in the Sacrilegious
War that followed, and stirring times continued for Mahomet until a truce
was made after four years. He attended his uncles in warfare, and we hear
of his collecting the enemy's arrows that fell harmlessly into their
lines, in order to reinforce the Kureisch ammunition.
A vivid picture by the hand of tradition is this period in Mahomet's
life, for he was between eighteen and nineteen, just at the age when
fighting would appeal to his wild, yet determined nature. He must have
learned resource and some of the stratagem of war from this attendance
upon warriors, if he did not become filled with much physical daring,
never one of his characteristics, nor, indeed, of any man of his nervous
temperament, and his imagination was certainly kindled by the spectacle
of the horrors and triumphs of strife. Several battles were fought with
varying success, until at the end of about five years' fighting both
sides were weary and a truce was called. It was found that twenty more
Hawazin had been killed than Kureisch, and according to the simple yet
equitable custom of the time, a like number of hostages was given to the
Hawazin that there might not be blood feud between them.
The Kureisch passed as suddenly into peace as they had plunged into
strife. After the Sacrilegious War, a period of prosperity began for the
city of Mecca. It was wealthy enough to support its population, and trade
flourished with the marts of Bostra, Damascus, and Northern Syria. Its
political condition had never been very stable, and it seems to have
preserved during the Omeyyad ascendancy the same loose but roughly
effective organisation that it possessed under the Hashim branch. The
intellect that could see the potentialities of such a polity, once it
could be knit together by some common bond, had not arisen; but the scene
was prepared for his coming, and we have to think of the Mecca of that
time as offering untold suggestions for its religious, and later for its
political, salvation to a mind anxious to produce, but uncertain as yet
of its medium.
Mahomet returned with Abu Talib, and passed with him into obscurity of a
poverty not too burdensome, and to a quiet, somewhat reflective
household. He lived under the spell of that tranquillity until he was
twenty-five, and of this time there is not much notice in the traditions,
but its contemplation is revealed to us in the earlier chapters of the
Kuran. At one time Mahomet acted as shepherd upon the Meccan hills--low,
rocky ranges covered with a dull scrub, and open to the limitless vaults
of sky. Here, whether under sun or stars, he learned that love and awe of
Nature that throbs through the early chapters of the Kuran like a deep
organ note of praise, dominated almost always with fear.
"Consider the Heaven--with His Hand has He built it up, and given it its
vastness--and the Earth has He stretched out like a carpet, smoothly has
He spread it forth! Verily, God is the sole sustainer, possessed of
might, the unshaken! Fly then to God."
Indeed, a haunting terror broods over all those souls who know the
desert, and this fear translated into action becomes fierce and terrible
deeds, and into the world of the spirit, angry dogmatic commands. It is
the result of the knowledge that to those who stray from the well-known
desert track comes death; equally certain is the destruction of the soul
for those who transgress against the law of the Ruler of the earth. The
God of the early Kuran is the spiritual representative of the forces
surrounding Mahomet, whether of Nature or government. The country around
Mecca conveys one central thought to one who meditates--the sense of
power, not the might of one kindly and familiar, but the unapproachable
sovereignty of one alien and remote, a dweller in far-off places, who
nevertheless fills the earth with his dominion. Mahomet passing by, as he
did, the gaieties and temptations of youth, had his mind alert for the
influences of this Nature, full of awful power, and for the contemplation
of life and the Universe around him.
In common with many enthusiasts and men of action, certain sides of his
nature, especially the sexual and the practical, awoke late, and were
preceded by a reflective period wherein the poet held full sway. He never
desired the companionship of those of his own age and their rather
debased pleasures. There are legends of his being miraculously preserved
from the corruption of the youthful vices of Mecca, but the more probable
reason for his shunning them is that they made no appeal to his desires.
Some minds and tastes unfold by imperceptible degrees--flowers that
attain fruition by the shedding of their earlier petals. Mahomet was of
this nature. At this time the poet was paramount in his mental activities
He loved silence and solitude, so that he might use those imaginative and
contemplative gifts of which he felt himself to possess so large a share.
It is not possible at this distance of time to attempt to estimate the
importance of this period in Mahomet's mental development. There are not
sufficient data to enable history to fill in any detailed sketch, but the
outlines may be safely indicated by the help of his later life and the
testimony of that commentary upon his feelings and actions, the Kuran.
His nature now seems to be in a pause of expectation, whose vain urgency
lasted until he became convinced of his prophetic mission. He must have
been at this time the seeker, whose youth, if not his very eagerness,
prevented his attaining what he sought. He was earnest and sincere, grave
beyond his years, and so gained from his fellows the respect always meted
out, in an essentially religion-loving community, to any who give promise
of future "inspiration," before its actuality has rendered him too
uncomfortable a citizen. He received from his comrades the title of
Al-Amin (the Faithful), and continued his life apart from his kind,
performing his duties well, but still remaining aloof from others as
one not of their world. From his sojourn in the mountains came the
inspiration that created the poetry of the Kuran and the reflective
interest in what he knew of his world and its religion; both embryos, but
especially the latter, germinated in his mind until they emerged into
full consciousness and became his fire of religious conviction, and his
zeal for the foundation and glory of Islam.