This mediaeval theory of life was subjected, as is well known, to many

compromises in the West, and was materially modified by Teutonic

influence and the revival of classicism. It might therefore be

supposed that in Islam Christian theory underwent similar modification

or disappeared entirely. But the fact is not so. At the outset, we

stated, as will be remembered, that Muhammedan scholars were

accustomed to propound their dicta as utterances given by Muhammed

himself, and in this form Christian ideas also came into circulation

among Muhammedans. When attempts were made to systematise these

sayings, all were treated as alike authentic, and, as traditional,

exerted their share of influence upon the formation of canon law. Thus

questions of temporary importance to mediaeval Christianity became

permanent elements in Muhammedan theology.

One highly instructive instance may be given. During the century which

preceded the Byzantine iconoclastic controversy, the whole of nearer

Asia was disturbed by the question whether the erection and veneration

of images was permissible. That Constantinople attempted to prohibit

such veneration is well known: but after a long struggle the church

gained its wishes. Islam was confronted with the problem and decided

for prohibition, doubtless under Jewish influence. Sayings of Muhammed

forbid the erection of images. This prohibition became part of canon

law and therefore binding for all time: it remains obligatory at the

present day, though in practice it is often transgressed. Thus the

process of development which was continued in Christendom, came to a

standstill in Islam, and many similar cases might be quoted.

Here begins the development of Muhammedan jurisprudence or, more

exactly, of the doctrine of duty, which includes every kind of human

activity, duties to God and man, religion, civil law, the penal code,

social morality and economics. This extraordinary system of moral

obligations, as developed in Islam, though its origin is obscure, is

doubtless rooted in the ecclesiastical law of Christendom which was

then first evolved. I have no doubt that the development of Muhammedan

tradition, which precedes the code proper, was dependent upon the

growth of canon law in the old Church, and that this again, or at

least the purely legal part of it, is closely connected with the

pre-Justinian legislation. Roman law does not seem to me to have

influenced Islam immediately in the form of Justinian's _Corpus

Juris_, but indirectly from such ecclesiastical sources as the

Romano-Syrian code. This view, however, I would distinctly state, is

merely my conjecture. For our present purpose it is more important to

establish the fact that the doctrine of duty canonised the manifold

expressions of the theory that life is a religion, with which we have

met throughout the traditional literature: all human acts are thus

legally considered as obligatory or forbidden when corresponding with

religious commands or prohibitions, as congenial or obnoxious to the

law or as matters legally indifferent and therefore permissible. The

arrangement of the work of daily life in correspondence with these

religious points of view is the most important outcome of the

Muhammedan doctrine of duties. The religious utterances which also

cover the whole business of life were first made duties by this

doctrine: in practice their fulfilment is impossible, but the theory

of their obligatory nature is a fundamental element in Muhammedanism.

Where the doctrine of duties deals with legal rights, its application

was in practice confined to marriage and the affairs of family life:

the theoretical demands of its penal clauses, for instance, raise

impossible difficulties. At the same time, it has been of great

importance to the whole spiritual life of Islam down to the present

day, because it reflects Muhammedan ideals of life and of man's place

in the world. Even to-day it remains the daily bread of the soul that

desires instruction, to quote the words of the greatest father of the

Muhammedan church. It will thus be immediately obvious to what a vast

extent Christian theory of the seventh and eighth centuries still

remains operative upon Muhammedan thought throughout the world.

Considerable parts of the doctrine of duties are concerned with the

forms of Muhammedan worship. It is becoming ever clearer that only

slight tendencies to a form of worship were apparent under Muhammed.

The mosque, the building erected for the special purpose of divine

service, was unknown during the prophet's lifetime; nor was there any

definite church organisation, of which the most important parts are

the common ritual and the preaching. Tendencies existed but no system,

was to be found: there was no clerical class to take an interest in

the development of an order of divine service. The Caliphs prayed

before the faithful in the capital, as did the governors in the

provinces. The military commanders also led a simple service in their

own stations.

It was contact with foreign influence which first provided the impulse

to a systematic form of worship. Both Christians and Jews possessed

such forms. Their example was followed and a ritual was evolved, at

first of the very simplest kind. No detailed organisation, however,

was attempted, until Christian influence led to the formation of the

class which naturally took an interest in the matter, the professional

theologians. These soon replaced the military service leaders. This

change denoted the final stage in the development of ritual. The

object of the theologians was to subject the various occupations of

life to ritual as well as to religion. The mediatorial or sacramental

theories of the priestly office were unknown to Islam, but ritual

customs of similar character were gradually evolved, and are

especially pronounced in the ceremonies of marriage and burial.

More important, however, was the development of the official service,

the arrangement of the day and the hour of obligatory attendance and

the introduction of preaching: under Muhammed and his early followers,

and until late in the Omajjad period, preaching was confined to

addresses, given as occasion demanded, but by degrees it became part

of the regular ritual. With it was afterwards connected the

intercession for the Caliphs, which became a highly significant part

of the service, as symbolising their sovereignty. It seems to me very

probable that this practice was an adoption, at any rate in theory, of

the Christian custom of praying for the emperor. The pulpit was then

introduced under Christian influence, which thus completely

transformed the chair (_mimbar_) of the ancient Arab judges and rulers

and made it a piece of church furniture; the Christian _cancelli_ or

choir screens were adopted and the mosque was thus developed. Before

the age of mosques, a lance had been planted in the ground and prayer

offered behind it: so in the mosque a prayer niche was made, a

survival of the pre-existing custom. There are many obscure points in

the development of the worship, but one fact may be asserted with

confidence: the developments of ritual were derived from pre-existing

practices, which were for the most part Christian.

But the religious energy of Islam was not exclusively devoted to the

development and practice of the doctrine of duties; at the same time

this ethical department, in spite of its dependency upon Christian and

Jewish ideas, remains its most original achievement: we have pursued

the subject at some length, because its importance is often overlooked

in the course of attempts to estimate the connection between

Christianity and Islam. On the other hand, affinities in the regions

of mysticism and dogma have long been matter of common knowledge and a

brief sketch of them will therefore suffice. If not essential to our

purpose within the limits of this book, they are none the less

necessary to complete our treatment of the subject.

By mysticism we understand the expression of religious emotion, as

contrasted with efforts to attain righteousness by full obedience to

the ethical doctrine of duties, and also in contrast to the

hair-splitting of dogmatic speculation: mysticism strove to reach

immediate emotional unity with the Godhead. No trace of any such

tendency was to be found in the Qoran: it entered Islam as a complete

novelty, and the affinities which enabled it to gain a footing have

been difficult to trace.

Muhammedan mysticism is certainly not exclusively Christian: its

origins, like those of Christian mysticism, are to be found in the

pantheistic writings of the Neoplatonist school of Dionysius the

Areopagite: but Islam apparently derived its mysticism from Christian

sources. In it originated the idea, with all its capacity for

development, of the mystical love of God: to this was added the theory

and practice of asceticism which was especially developed by

Christianity, and, in later times, the influence of Indian philosophy,

which is unmistakable. Such are the fundamental elements of this

tendency. When the idea of the Nirwana, the Arab _fan[=a]_, is

attained, Muhammedanism proper comes to an end. But orthodoxy controls

the divergent elements: it opposes any open avowal of the logical

conclusion, which would identify "God" and the "ego," but in practice

this group of ideas, pantheistic in all but name, has been received

and given a place side by side with the strict monotheism of the Qoran

and with the dogmatic theology. Any form of mysticism which is pushed

to its logical consequences must overthrow positive religion. By

incorporating this dangerous tendency within itself, Islam has averted

the peril which it threatens. Creed is no longer endangered, and this

purpose being secured, thought is free.

Union with God is gained by ecstasy and leads to enthusiasm. These

terms will therefore show us in what quarter we must seek the

strongest impulses to mysticism. The concepts, if not the actual

terms, are to be found in Islam: they were undoubtedly transmitted by

Christianity and undergo the wide extension which results in the

dervish and fakir developments. _Dervish_ and _fakir_ are the Persian

and Arabic words for "beggar": the word _sufi_, a man in a woollen

shirt, is also used in the same sense. The terms show that asceticism

is a fundamental element in mysticism; asceticism was itself an

importation to Islam. Dervishes are divided into different classes or

orders, according to the methods by which they severally prefer to

attain ecstasy: dancing and recitation are practised by the dancing

and howling dervishes and other methods are in vogue. It is an

institution very different from monasticism but the result of a course

of development undoubtedly similar to that which produced the monk:

dervishism and monasticism are independent developments of the same

original idea.

Among these Muhammedan companies attempts to reach the point of

ecstasy have developed to a rigid discipline of the soul; the believer

must subject himself to his master, resigning all power of will, and

so gradually reaches higher stages of knowledge until he is eventually

led to the consciousness of his absolute identity with God. It seems

to me beyond question that this method is reflected in the _exercitiis

spiritualibus_ of Ignatius Loyola, the chief instrument by which the

Jesuits secured dominion over souls. Any one who has realised the

enormous influence which Arab thought exerted upon Spanish

Christianity so late as the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries, will

not regard the conjecture as unfounded.

When a man's profession or position prevented him from practising

these mystical exercises, he satisfied his religious needs by

venerating persons who were nearer to the deity and whose intercession

was effectual even after their death and sometimes not until they were

dead: hence arose the veneration of saints, a practice as alien as

pantheistic dogma to primitive Islam. The adoption of Christian saint

worship was not possible until the person of Muhammed himself had been

exalted above the ordinary level of humanity. Early Muhammedans

observed that the founder of Christianity was regarded by popular

opinion as a miracle worker of unrivalled power: it was impossible for

the founder of Islam to remain inferior in this respect. Thus the

early biographies of the prophet, which appeared in the first century

of Muhammedanism, recount the typical miracles of the Gospels, the

feeding of multitudes, healing the sick, raising the dead and so

forth. Two methods of adoption may be distinguished. Special features

are directly borrowed, or the line of advance is followed which had

introduced the worship of saints and relics to Christianity a short

time before. The religious emotions natural to any people produced a

series of ideas which pass from one religion to another. Outward form

and purport may be changed, but the essential points remain unaltered

and are the living expression of that relation to God in which a

people conceives itself to stand. Higher forms of religion--a fact as

sad as it is true--require a certain degree not only of moral but of

intellectual capacity.

Thus we have traversed practically the whole circle of religious life

and have everywhere found Islam following in the path of Christian

thought. One department remains to be examined, which might be

expected to offer but scanty opportunity for borrowings of this kind;

this is dogma. Here, if anywhere, the contrast between the two

religions should be obvious. The initial divergencies were so

pronounced, that any adoption of Christian ideas would seem

impossible. Yet in those centuries, Christianity was chiefly agitated

by dogmatic questions, which occupied men's minds as greatly as social

problems at the present day. Here we can observe most distinctly, how

the problems at least were taken over by Islam.

Muhammedan dogmatic theology is concerned only with three main

questions, the problem of free-will, the being and attributes of God,

and the eternal uncreated nature of God's word. The mere mention of

these problems will recall the great dogmatic struggles of early

Christianity. At no time have the problems of free-will and the nature

of God, been subjects of fiercer dispute than during the

Christological and subsequent discussions. Upholders of freedom or of

determinism could alike find much to support their theories in the

Qoran: Muhammed was no dogmatist and for him the ideas of man's

responsibility and of God's almighty and universal power were not

mutually exclusive. The statement of the problem was adopted from

Christianity as also was the dialectical subtlety by which a solution

was reached, and which, while admitting the almighty power of God,

left man responsible for his deeds by regarding him as free to accept

or refuse the admonitions of God. Thus the thinkers and their demands

for justice and righteous dealing were reconciled to the blind

fatalism of the masses, which again was not a native Muhammedan

product, but is the outcome of the religious spirit of the East.

The problem of reconciling the attributes of God with the dogma of His

unity was solved with no less subtlety. The mere idea that a

multiplicity of attributes was incompatible with absolute unity was

only possible in a school which had spent centuries in the desperate

attempt to reconcile the inference of a divine Trinity with the

conception of absolute divine unity.

Finally, the third question, "Was the Qoran, the word of God, created

or not?" is an obvious counterpart of the Logos problem, of the

struggle to secure recognition of the Logos as eternal and uncreated

together with God. Islam solved the question by distinguishing the

eternal and uncreated Qoran from the revealed and created. The eternal

nature of the Qoran was a dogma entirely alien to the strict

monotheism of Islam: but this fact was never realised, any more than

the fact that the acceptance of the dogma was a triumph for

Graeco-Christian dialectic. There can be no more striking proof of the

strength of Christian influence: it was able to undermine the

fundamental dogma of Islam, and the Muhammedans never realised the

fact.

In our review of these dogmatic questions, we have met with a novel

tendency, that to metaphysical speculation and dialectic. It was from

Christendom, not directly from the Greek world, that this spirit

reached Islam: the first attitude of Muhammedanism towards it was that

which Christianity adopted towards all non-religious systems of

thought. Islam took it up as a useful weapon for the struggle against

heresy. But it soon became a favourite and trusted implement and

eventually its influence upon Muhammedan philosophy became paramount.

Here we meet with a further Christian influence, which, when once

accepted, very largely contributed to secure a similar development of

mediaeval Christian and Muhammedan thought. This was Scholasticism,

which was the natural and inevitable consequence of the study of Greek

dialectic and philosophy. It is not necessary to sketch the growth of

scholasticism, with its barrenness of results in spite of its keen

intellectual power, upon ground already fertilised by ecclesiastical

pioneers. It will suffice to state the fact that these developments of

the Greek spirit were predominant here as in the West: in either case

important philosophies rise upon this basis, for the most part

professedly ecclesiastical, even when they occasionally struck at the

roots of the religious system to which they belonged. In this

department, Islam repaid part of its debt to Christianity, for the

Arabs became the intellectual leaders of the middle ages.

Thus we come to the concluding section of this treatise; before we

enter upon it, two preliminary questions remain for consideration. If

Islam was ready to learn from Christianity in every department of

religious life, what was the cause of the sudden superiority of

Muhammedanism to the rising force of Christianity a few centuries

later? And secondly, in view of the traditional antagonism between the

Christian and Muhammedan worlds, how was Christianity able to adopt so

large and essential a portion of Muhammedan thought?

The answer in the second case will be clear to any one who has

followed our argument with attention. The intellectual and religious

outlook was so similar in both religions and the problem requiring

solution so far identical that nothing existed to impede the adoption

of ideas originally Christian which had been developed in the East.

The fact that the West could accept philosophical and theological

ideas from Islam and that an actual interchange of thought could

proceed in this direction, is the best of proofs for the soundness of

our argument that the roots of Muhammedanism are to be sought in

Christianity. Islam was able to borrow from Christianity for the

reason that Muhammed's ideas were derived from that source: similarly

Christianity was able to turn Arab thought to its own purposes because

that thought was founded upon Christian principles. The sources of

both religions lie in the East and in Oriental thought.

No less is true of Judaism, a scholastic system which was excellently

adapted by its international character, to become a medium of

communication between Christianity and Muhammedanism during those

centuries. In this connection special mention must be made of the

Spanish Jews; to their work, not only as transmitting but also as

originating ideas a bare reference must here suffice. But of greater

importance was the direct exchange of thought, which proceeded through

literary channels, by means of translations, especially by word of

mouth among the Christians and Muhammedans who were living together in

Southern Italy, Sicily, and Spain, and by commercial intercourse.

The other question concerns the fundamental problem of European

medievalism. We see that the problems with which the middle ages in

Europe were confronted and also that European ethics and metaphysics

were identical with the Muhammedan system: we are moreover assured

that the acceptance of Christian ideas by Islam can only have taken

place in the East: and the conclusion is obvious that mediaeval

Christianity was also primarily rooted in the East. The transmission

of this religious philosophy to the non-Oriental peoples of the West

at first produced a cessation of progress but opened a new

intellectual world when these peoples awoke to life in the thirteenth

and fourteenth centuries. But throughout the intermediate period

between the seventh and thirteenth centuries the East was gaining

political strength and was naturally superior to the West where

political organisation and culture had been shattered by the Germanic

invasions; in the East again there was an organic unity of national

strength and intellectual ideals, as the course of development had not

been interrupted. Though special dogmatic points had been changed, the

general religious theory remained unaltered throughout the nearer

East. Thus the rising power of Islam, which had high faculties of

self-accommodation to environment, was able to enter upon the heritage

of the mixed Graeco-Oriental civilisation existing in the East; in

consequence it gained an immediate advantage over the West, where

Eastern ideas were acclimatised with difficulty.

The preponderance of Muhammedan influence was increased by the fact

that Islam became the point of amalgamation for ancient Eastern

cultures, in particular for those of Greece and Persia: in previous

centuries preparation had been made for this process by the steady

transformation of Hellenism to Orientalism. Persia, however, had been

the main source of Eastern civilisation, at any rate since the

Sassanid period: the debt of Byzantine culture to Persia is well

known. Unfortunately no thorough investigation has been made of these

various and important changes, but it is clear that Persian

civilisation sent its influence far westward, at first directly and

later through the medium of Muhammedanism. The same facts hold good

with regard to the diffusion of intellectual culture from Persia. How

far Persian ideas may have influenced the development of Muhammedan

and even of Christian eschatology, we need not here discuss: but the

influence of the great Graeco-Christian schools of Persia was

enormous: they made the Arabs acquainted with the most important works

in Greek and Persian literature. To this fact was due the wide

influence of Islam upon Christian civilisation, which is evidenced

even to-day by the numerous words of Arab origin to be found in modern

European languages; it is in fact an influence the strength of which

can hardly be exaggerated. Not only the commercial products of the

East, but important economic methods, the ideals of our so-called

European chivalry and of its love poetry, the foundations of our

natural sciences, even theological and philosophical ideas of high

value were then sent to us from the East. The consequences of the

crusades are the best proof of the enormous superiority of the

Muhammedan world, a fact which is daily becoming more obvious. Here we

are concerned only with the influence exerted by Muhammedan

philosophy. It would be more correct to speak of post-classical than

of Muhammedan philosophy. But as above, the influence of Christianity

upon Islam was considered, so now the reverse process must be

outlined. In either case it was the heir to the late classical age, to

the mixed Graeco-Oriental culture, which influenced Islam at first in

Christian guise. Islam is often able to supplement its borrowings from

Christianity at the original sources, and when they have thus been

deepened and purified, these adaptations are returned to Christianity

in Muhammedan form.

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