Above all, blood called for blood. This obligation lay heavy on the

conscience of the pagan Arabs. Vengeance, with them, was "almost a

physical necessity, which if it be not obeyed will deprive its subject

of sleep, of appetite, of health." It was a tormenting thirst which

nothing would quench except blood, a disease of honour which might be

described as madness, although it rarely prevented the sufferer from

going to work with coolness and circumspection. Vengeance was taken upon

the murderer, if possible, or else upon one of his fellow-tribesmen.

Usually this ended the matter, but in some cases it was the beginning of

a regular blood-feud in which the entire kin of both parties were

involved; as, _e.g._, the murder of Kulayb led to the Forty Years' War

between Bakr and Taghlib.[188] The slain man's next of kin might accept

a blood-wit (_diya_), commonly paid in camels--the coin of the

country--as atonement for him. If they did so, however, it was apt to be

cast in their teeth that they preferred milk (_i.e._, she-camels) to

blood.[189] The true Arab feeling is expressed in verses like these:--

"With the sword will I wash my shame away,

Let God's doom bring on me what it may!"[190]

It was believed that until vengeance had been taken for the dead man,

his spirit appeared above his tomb in the shape of an owl (_háma_ or

_ṣadá_), crying "_Isqúní_" ("Give me to drink"). But pagan ideas of

vengeance were bound up with the Past far more than with the Future. The

shadowy after-life counted for little or nothing beside the

deeply-rooted memories of fatherly affection, filial piety, and

brotherhood in arms.

Though liable to abuse, the rough-and-ready justice of the vendetta had

a salutary effect in restraining those who would otherwise have indulged

their lawless instincts without fear of punishment. From our point of

view, however, its interest is not so much that of a primitive

institution as of a pervading element in old Arabian life and

literature. Full, or even adequate, illustration of this topic would

carry me far beyond the limits of my plan. I have therefore selected

from the copious material preserved in the _Book of Songs_ a

characteristic story which tells how Qays b. al-Khaṭím took vengeance

on the murderers of his father and his grandfather.[191]

[Sidenote: The story of the vengeance of Qays b. al-Khaṭím.]

It is related on the authority of Abú ‘Ubayda that ‘Adí b. ‘Amr, the

grandfather of Qays, was slain by a man named Málik belonging to the

Banú ‘Amr b. ‘Ámir b. Rabí‘a b. ‘Ámir b. Ṣa‘ṣa‘a; and his

father, Khaṭím b. ‘Adí, by one of the Banú ‘Abd al-Qays who were

settled in Hajar. Khaṭím died before avenging his father, ‘Adí,

when Qays was but a young lad. The mother of Qays, fearing that he

would sally forth to seek vengeance for the blood of his father and

his grandfather and perish, went to a mound of dust beside the door

of their dwelling and laid stones on it, and began to say to Qays,

"This is the grave of thy father and thy grandfather;" and Qays

never doubted but that it was so. He grew up strong in the arms, and

one day he had a tussle with a youth of the Banú Ẓafar, who said

to him: "By God, thou would'st do better to turn the strength of

thine arms against the slayers of thy father and grandfather instead

of putting it forth upon me." "And who are their slayers?" "Ask thy

mother, she will tell thee." So Qays took his sword and set its hilt

on the ground and its edge between his two breasts, and said to his

mother: "Who killed my father and my grandfather?" "They died as

people die, and these are their graves in the camping-ground." "By

God, verily thou wilt tell me who slew them or I will bear with my

whole weight upon this sword until it cleaves through my back." Then

she told him, and Qays swore that he would never rest until he had

slain their slayers. "O my son," said she, "Málik, who killed thy

grandfather, is of the same folk as Khidásh b. Zuhayr, and thy

father once bestowed a kindness on Khidásh, for which he is

grateful. Go, then, to him and take counsel with him touching thine

affair and ask him to help thee." So Qays set out immediately, and

when he came to the garden where his water-camel was watering his

date-palms, he smote the cord (of the bucket) with his sword and cut

it, so that the bucket dropped into the well. Then he took hold of

the camel's head, and loaded the beast with two sacks of dates, and

said: "Who will care for this old woman" (meaning his mother) "in my

absence? If I die, let him pay her expenses out of this garden, and

on her death it shall be his own; but if I live, my property will

return to me, and he shall have as many of its dates as he wishes to

eat." One of his folk cried, "I am for it," so Qays gave him the

garden and set forth to inquire concerning Khidásh. He was told to

look for him at Marr al-Ẓahrán, but not finding him in his tent,

he alighted beneath a tree, in the shade of which the guests of

Khidásh used to shelter, and called to the wife of Khidásh, "Is

there any food?" Now, when she came up to him, she admired his

comeliness--for he was exceeding fair of countenance--and said: "By

God, we have no fit entertainment for thee, but only dates." He

replied, "I care not, bring out what thou hast." So she sent to him

dates in a large measure (_qubá‘_), and Qays took a single date and

ate half of it and put back the other half in the _qubá‘_, and gave

orders that the _qubá‘_ should be brought in to the wife of Khidásh;

then he departed on some business. When Khidásh returned and his

wife told him the news of Qays, he said, "This is a man who would

render his person sacred."[192] While he sat there with his wife

eating fresh ripe dates, Qays returned on camel-back; and Khidásh,

when he saw the foot of the approaching rider, said to his wife, "Is

this thy guest?" "Yes." "'Tis as though his foot were the foot of my

good friend, Khaṭím the Yathribite." Qays drew nigh, and struck

the tent-rope with the point of his spear, and begged leave to come

in. Having obtained permission, he entered to Khidásh and told his

lineage and informed him of what had passed, and asked him to help

and advise him in his affair. Khidásh bade him welcome, and recalled

the kindness which he had of his father, and said, "As to this

affair, truly I have been expecting it of thee for some time. The

slayer of thy grandfather is a cousin of mine, and I will aid thee

against him. When we are assembled in our meeting-place, I will sit

beside him and talk with him, and when I strike his thigh, do thou

spring on him and slay him." Qays himself relates: "Accompanied by

Khidásh, I approached him until I stood over his head when Khidásh

sat with him, and as soon as he struck the man's thigh I smote his

head with a sword named _Dhu ’l-Khurṣayn_" (the Two-ringed). "His

folk rushed on me to slay me, but Khidásh came between us, crying,

'Let him alone, for, by God, he has slain none but the slayer of his

grandfather.'" Then Khidásh called for one of his camels and mounted

it, and started with Qays to find the ‘Abdite who killed his father.

And when they were near Hajar Khidásh advised him to go and inquire

after this man, and to say to him when he discovered him: "I

encountered a brigand of thy people who robbed me of some articles,

and on asking who was the chieftain of his people I was directed to

thee. Go with me, then, that thou mayest take from him my property.

If," Khidásh continued, "he follow thee unattended, thou wilt gain

thy desire of him; but should he bid the others go with thee, laugh,

and if he ask why thou laughest, say, 'With us, the noble does not

as thou dost, but when he is called to a brigand of his people, he

goes forth alone with his whip, not with his sword; and the brigand

when he sees him gives him everything that he took, in awe of him.'

If he shall dismiss his friends, thy course is clear; but if he

shall refuse to go without them, bring him to me nevertheless, for I

hope that thou wilt slay both him and them." So Khidásh stationed

himself under the shade of a tree, while Qays went to the ‘Abdite

and addressed him as Khidásh had prompted; and the man's sense of

honour was touched to the quick, so that he sent away his friends

and went with Qays. And when Qays came back to Khidásh, the latter

said to him, "Choose, O Qays! Shall I help thee or shall I take thy

place?" Qays answered, "I desire neither of these alternatives, but

if he slay me, let him not slay thee!" Then he rushed upon him and

wounded him in the flank and drove his lance through the other side,

and he fell dead on the spot. When Qays had finished with him,

Khidásh said, "If we flee just now, his folk will pursue us; but let

us go somewhere not far off, for they will never think that thou

hast slain him and stayed in the neighbourhood. No; they will miss

him and follow his track, and when they find him slain they will

start to pursue us in every direction, and will only return when

they have lost hope." So those two entered some hollows of the sand,

and after staying there several days (for it happened exactly as

Khidásh had foretold), they came forth when the pursuit was over,

and did not exchange a word until they reached the abode of Khidásh.

There Qays parted from him and returned to his own people.

[Sidenote: Song of Vengeance by Ta’abbaṭa Sharran.]

The poems relating to blood-revenge show all that is best and much that

is less admirable in the heathen Arab--on the one hand, his courage and

resolution, his contempt of death and fear of dishonour, his

single-minded devotion to the dead as to the living, his deep regard and

tender affection for the men of his own flesh and blood; on the other

hand, his implacable temper, his perfidious cruelty and reckless

ferocity in hunting down the slayers, and his savage, well-nigh inhuman

exultation over the slain. The famous Song or Ballad of Vengeance that I

shall now attempt to render in English verse is usually attributed to

Ta’abbaṭa Sharran,[193] although some pronounce it to be a forgery by

Khalaf al-Aḥmar, the reputed author of Shanfará's masterpiece, and

beyond doubt a marvellously skilful imitator of the ancient bards. Be

that as it may, the ballad is utterly pagan in tone and feeling. Its

extraordinary merit was detected by Goethe, who, after reading it in a

Latin translation, published a German rendering, with some fine

criticism of the poetry, in his _West-oestlicher Divan_.[194] I have

endeavoured to suggest as far as possible the metre and rhythm of the

original, since to these, in my opinion, its peculiar effect is largely

due. The metre is that known as the 'Tall' (_Madíd_), viz.:--

⌣ |⌣ |

- ⌣ - -|- ⌣ -|- ⌣ - -

Thus the first verse runs in Arabic:--

_Inna bi’l-shi‘ | bi ’lladhi |‘inda Sal‘in

la-qatílan | damuhú | má yuṭallu._

Of course, Arabic prosody differs radically from English, but _mutatis

mutandis_ several couplets in the following version (_e.g._ the third,

eighth, and ninth) will be found to correspond exactly with their model.

As has been said, however, my object was merely to suggest the abrupt

metre and the heavy, emphatic cadences, so that I have been able to give

variety to the verse, and at the same time to retain that artistic

freedom without which the translator of poetry cannot hope to satisfy

either himself or any one else.

The poet tells how he was summoned to avenge his uncle, slain by the

tribesmen of Hudhayl: he describes the dead man's heroic character, the

foray in which he fell, his former triumphs over the same enemy, and

finally the terrible vengeance taken for him.[195]

"In the glen there a murdered man is lying--

Not in vain for vengeance his blood is crying.

He hath left me the load to bear and departed;

I take up the load and bear it true-hearted.

I, his sister's son, the bloodshed inherit,

I whose knot none looses, stubborn of spirit;[196]

Glowering darkly, shame's deadly out-wiper,

Like the serpent spitting venom, the viper.

Hard the tidings that befell us, heart-breaking;

Little seemed thereby the anguish most aching.

Fate hath robbed me--still is Fate fierce and froward--

Of a hero whose friend ne'er called him coward:

As the warm sun was he in wintry weather,

'Neath the Dog-star shade and coolness together:

Spare of flank--yet this in him showed not meanness;

Open-handed, full of boldness and keenness:

Firm of purpose, cavalier unaffrighted--

Courage rode with him and with him alighted:

In his bounty, a bursting cloud of rain-water;

Lion grim when he leaped to the slaughter.

Flowing hair, long robe his folk saw aforetime,

But a lean-haunched wolf was he in war-time.

Savours two he had, untasted by no men:

Honey to his friends and gall to his foemen.

Fear he rode nor recked what should betide him:

Save his deep-notched Yemen blade, none beside him.

Oh, the warriors girt with swords good for slashing,

Like the levin, when they drew them, outflashing!

Through the noonday heat they fared: then, benighted,

Farther fared, till at dawning they alighted.[197]

Breaths of sleep they sipped; and then, while they nodded,

Thou didst scare them: lo, they scattered and scudded.

Vengeance wreaked we upon them, unforgiving:

Of the two clans scarce was left a soul living.[198]

Ay, if _they_ bruised his glaive's edge 'twas in token

That by him many a time their own was broken.

Oft he made them kneel down by force and cunning--

Kneel on jags where the foot is torn with running.

Many a morn in shelter he took them napping;

After killing was the rieving and rapine.

They have gotten of me a roasting--I tire not

Of desiring them till me they desire not.

First, of foemen's blood my spear deeply drinketh,

Then a second time, deep in, it sinketh.

Lawful now to me is wine, long forbidden:

Sore my struggle ere the ban was o'erridden.[199]

Pour me wine, O son of ‘Amr! I would taste it,

Since with grief for mine uncle I am wasted.

O'er the fallen of Hudhayl stands screaming

The hyena; see the wolf's teeth gleaming!

Dawn will hear the flap of wings, will discover

Vultures treading corpses, too gorged to hover."

[Sidenote: Honour conferred by noble ancestry.]

All the virtues which enter into the Arabian conception of Honour were

regarded not as personal qualities inherent or acquired, but as

hereditary possessions which a man derived from his ancestors, and held

in trust that he might transmit them untarnished to his descendants. It

is the desire to uphold and emulate the fame of his forbears, rather

than the hope of winning immortality for himself, that causes the Arab

"to say the say and do the deeds of the noble." Far from sharing the

sentiment of the Scots peasant--"a man's a man for a' that"--he looks

askance at merit and renown unconsecrated by tradition.

"The glories that have grown up with the grass

Can match not those inherited of old."[200]

Ancestral renown (_ḥasab_) is sometimes likened to a strong castle

built by sires for their sons, or to a lofty mountain which defies

attack.[201] The poets are full of boastings (_mafákhir_) and revilings

(_mathálib_) in which they loudly proclaim the nobility of their own

ancestors, and try to blacken those of their enemy without any regard to

decorum.

It was my intention to add here some general remarks on Arabian poetry

as compared with that of the Hebrews, the Persians, and our own, but

since example is better than precept I will now turn directly to those

celebrated odes which are well known by the title of _Mu‘-allaqát_, or

'Suspended Poems,' to all who take the slightest interest in Arabic

literature.[202]

[Sidenote: The Mu‘allaqát, or 'Suspended Poems.']

_Mu‘allaqa_ (plural, _Mu‘allaqát_) "is most likely derived from the word

_‘ilq_, meaning 'a precious thing or a thing held in high estimation,'

either because one 'hangs on' tenaciously to it, or because it is 'hung

up' in a place of honour, or in a conspicuous place, in a treasury or

storehouse."[203] In course of time the exact signification of

_Mu‘allaqa_ was forgotten, and it became necessary to find a plausible

explanation. Hence arose the legend, which frequent repetition has made

familiar, that the 'Suspended Poems' were so called from having been

hung up in the Ka‘ba on account of their merit; that this distinction

was awarded by the judges at the fair of ‘Ukáẓ, near Mecca, where

poets met in rivalry and recited their choicest productions; and that

the successful compositions, before being affixed to the door of the

Ka‘ba, were transcribed in letters of gold upon pieces of fine Egyptian

linen.[204] Were these statements true, we should expect them to be

confirmed by some allusion in the early literature. But as a matter of

fact nothing of the kind is mentioned in the Koran or in religious

tradition, in the ancient histories of Mecca, or in such works as the

_Kitábu ’l-Aghání_, which draw their information from old and

trustworthy sources.[205] Almost the first authority who refers to the

legend is the grammarian Aḥmad al-Naḥḥás († 949 A.D.), and

by him it is stigmatised as entirely groundless. Moreover, although it

was accepted by scholars like Reiske, Sir W. Jones, and even De Sacy, it

is incredible in itself. Hengstenberg, in the Prolegomena to his edition

of the _Mu‘-allaqa_ of Imru’u ’l-Qays (Bonn, 1823) asked some pertinent

questions: Who were the judges, and how were they appointed? Why were

only these seven poems thus distinguished? His further objection, that

the art of writing was at that time a rare accomplishment, does not

carry so much weight as he attached to it, but the story is sufficiently

refuted by what we know of the character and customs of the Arabs in the

sixth century and afterwards. Is it conceivable that the proud sons of

the desert could have submitted a matter so nearly touching their tribal

honour, of which they were jealous above all things, to external

arbitration, or meekly acquiesced in the partial verdict of a court

sitting in the neighbourhood of Mecca, which would certainly have shown

scant consideration for competitors belonging to distant clans?[206]

[Sidenote: Origin of the collection.]

However _Mu‘allaqa_ is to be explained, the name is not contemporary

with the poems themselves. In all probability they were so entitled by

the person who first chose them out of innumerable others and embodied

them in a separate collection. This is generally allowed to have been

Ḥammád al-Ráwiya, a famous rhapsodist who flourished in the latter

days of the Umayyad dynasty, and died about 772 A.D., in the reign of

the ‘Abbásid Caliph Mahdí. What principle guided Ḥammád in his choice

we do not know. Nöldeke conjectures that he was influenced by the fact

that all the _Mu‘allaqát_ are long poems--they are sometimes called 'The

Seven Long Poems' (_al-Sab‘ al-Ṭiwál_)--for in Ḥammád's time

little of the ancient Arabian poetry survived in a state even of

relative completeness.

[Sidenote: Difficulty of translating the Mu‘allaqát.]

It must be confessed that no rendering of the _Mu‘allaqát_ can furnish

European readers with a just idea of the originals, a literal version

least of all. They contain much that only a full commentary can make

intelligible, much that to modern taste is absolutely incongruous with

the poetic style. Their finest pictures of Bedouin life and manners

often appear uncouth or grotesque, because without an intimate knowledge

of the land and people it is impossible for us to see what the poet

intended to convey, or to appreciate the truth and beauty of its

expression; while the artificial framework, the narrow range of subject

as well as treatment, and the frank realism of the whole strike us at

once. In the following pages I shall give some account of the

_Mu‘allaqát_ and their authors, and endeavour to bring out the

characteristic qualities of each poem by selecting suitable passages for

translation.[207]

[Sidenote: Imru’u ’l-Qays.]

The oldest and most famous of the _Mu‘allaqát_ is that of Imru’u

’l-Qays, who was descended from the ancient kings of Yemen. His

grandfather was King Ḥárith of Kinda, the antagonist of Mundhir III,

King of Ḥíra, by whom he was defeated and slain.[208] On Ḥárith's

death, the confederacy which he had built up split asunder, and his sons

divided among themselves the different tribes of which it was composed.

Ḥujr, the poet's father, ruled for some time over the Banú Asad in

Central Arabia, but finally they revolted and put him to death. "The

duty of avenging his murder fell upon Imru’u ’l-Qays, who is represented

as the only capable prince of his family; and the few historical data

which we have regarding him relate to his adventures while bent upon

this vengeance."[209] They are told at considerable length in the

_Kitábu ’l-Aghání_, but need not detain us here. Suffice it to say that

his efforts to punish the rebels, who were aided by Mundhir, the

hereditary foe of his house, met with little success. He then set out

for Constantinople, where he was favourably received by the Emperor

Justinian, who desired to see the power of Kinda re-established as a

thorn in the side of his Persian rivals. The emperor appointed him

Phylarch of Palestine, but on his way thither he died at Angora (about

540 A.D.). He is said to have perished, like Nessus, from putting on a

poisoned robe sent to him as a gift by Justinian, with whose daughter he

had an intrigue. Hence he is sometimes called 'The Man of the Ulcers'

(_Dhu ’l-Qurúḥ_).

Many fabulous traditions surround the romantic figure of Imru’u

’l-Qays.[210] According to one story, he was banished by his father, who

despised him for being a poet and was enraged by the scandals to which

his love adventures gave rise. Imru’u ’l-Qays left his home and wandered

from tribe to tribe with a company of outcasts like himself, leading a

wild life, which caused him to be known as 'The Vagabond Prince'

(_al-Malik al-Ḑillíl_). When the news of his father's death reached

him he cried, "My father wasted my youth, and now that I am old he has

laid upon me the burden of blood-revenge. Wine to-day, business

to-morrow!" Seven nights he continued the carouse; then he swore not to

eat flesh, nor drink wine, nor use ointment, nor touch woman, nor wash

his head until his vengeance was accomplished. In the valley of Tabála,

north of Najrán, there was an idol called Dhu ’l-Khalaṣa much

reverenced by the heathen Arabs. Imru’u ’l-Qays visited this oracle and

consulted it in the ordinary way, by drawing one of three arrows

entitled 'the Commanding,' 'the Forbidding,' and 'the Waiting.' He drew

the second, whereupon he broke the arrows and dashed them on the face of

the idol, exclaiming with a gross imprecation, "If _thy_ father had been

slain, thou would'st not have hindered me!"

Imru’u ’l-Qays is almost universally reckoned the greatest of the

Pre-islamic poets. Muḥammad described him as 'their leader to

Hell-fire,' while the Caliphs ‘Umar and ‘Alí, _odium theologicum_

notwithstanding, extolled his genius and originality.[211] Coming to the

_Mu‘allaqa_ itself, European critics have vied with each other in

praising its exquisite diction and splendid images, the sweet flow of

the verse, the charm and variety of the painting, and, above all, the

feeling by which it is inspired of the joy and glory of youth. The

passage translated below is taken from the first half of the poem, in

which love is the prevailing theme:--[212]

"Once, on the hill, she mocked at me and swore,

'This hour I leave thee to return no more,'

Soft! if farewell is planted in thy mind,

Yet spare me, Fáṭima, disdain unkind.

Because my passion slays me, wilt thou part?

Because thy wish is law unto mine heart?

Nay, if thou so mislikest aught in me,

Shake loose my robe and let it fall down free.

But ah, the deadly pair, thy streaming eyes!

They pierce a heart that all in ruin lies.

How many a noble tent hath oped its treasure

To me, and I have ta'en my fill of pleasure,

Passing the warders who with eager speed

Had slain me, if they might but hush the deed,

What time in heaven the Pleiades unfold

A belt of orient gems distinct with gold.

I entered. By the curtain there stood she,

Clad lightly as for sleep, and looked on me.

'By God,' she cried, 'what recks thee of the cost?

I see thine ancient madness is not lost.'

I led her forth--she trailing as we go

Her broidered skirt, lest any footprint show--

Until beyond the tents the valley sank

With curving dunes and many a pilèd bank,

Then with both hands I drew her head to mine,

And lovingly the damsel did incline

Her slender waist and legs more plump than fine;--

A graceful figure, a complexion bright,

A bosom like a mirror in the light;

A white pale virgin pearl such lustre keeps,

Fed with clear water in untrodden deeps.

Now she bends half away: two cheeks appear,

And such an eye as marks the frighted deer

Beside her fawn; and lo, the shapely neck

Not bare of ornament, else without a fleck;

While from her shoulders in profusion fair,

Like clusters on the palm, hangs down her coal-dark hair."

In strange contrast with this tender and delicate idyll are the wild,

hard verses almost immediately following, in which the poet roaming

through the barren waste hears the howl of a starved wolf and hails him

as a comrade:--

"Each one of us what thing he finds devours:

Lean is the wretch whose living is like ours."[213]

The noble qualities of his horse and its prowess in the chase are

described, and the poem ends with a magnificent picture of a

thunder-storm among the hills of Najd.

[Sidenote: Ṭarafa.]

Ṭarafa b. al-‘Abd was a member of the great tribe of Bakr. The

particular clan to which he belonged was settled in Baḥrayn on the

Persian Gulf. He early developed a talent for satire, which he exercised

upon friend and foe indifferently; and after he had squandered his

patrimony in dissolute pleasures, his family chased him away as though

he were 'a mangy camel.' At length a reconciliation was effected. He

promised to mend his ways, returned to his people, and took part, it is

said, in the War of Basús. In a little while his means were dissipated

once more and he was reduced to tend his brother's herds. His

_Mu‘allaqa_ composed at this time won for him the favour of a rich

kinsman and restored him to temporary independence. On the conclusion of

peace between Bakr and Taghlib the youthful poet turned his eyes in the

direction of Ḥíra, where ‘Amr b. Hind had lately succeeded to the

throne (554 A.D.). He was well received by the king, who attached him,

along with his uncle, the poet Mutalammis, to the service of the

heir-apparent. But Ṭarafa's bitter tongue was destined to cost him

dear. Fatigued and disgusted by the rigid ceremony of the court, he

improvised a satire in which he said--

"Would that we had instead of ‘Amr

A milch-ewe bleating round our tent!"

Shortly afterwards he happened to be seated at table opposite the king's

sister. Struck with her beauty, he exclaimed--

"Behold, she has come back to me,

My fair gazelle whose ear-rings shine;

Had not the king been sitting here,

I would have pressed her lips to mine!"

‘Amr b. Hind was a man of violent and implacable temper. Ṭarafa's

satire had already been reported to him, and this new impertinence added

fuel to his wrath. Sending for Ṭarafa and Mutalammis, he granted them

leave to visit their homes, and gave to each of them a sealed letter

addressed to the governor of Baḥrayn. When they had passed outside

the city the suspicions of Mutalammis were aroused. As neither he nor

his companion could read, he handed his own letter to a boy of

Ḥíra[214] and learned that it contained orders to bury him alive.

Thereupon he flung the treacherous missive into the stream and implored

Ṭarafa to do likewise. Ṭarafa refused to break the royal seal. He

continued his journey to Baḥrayn, where he was thrown into prison and

executed.

Thus perished miserably in the flower of his youth--according to some

accounts he was not yet twenty--the passionate and eloquent Ṭarafa.

In his _Mu‘allaqa_ he has drawn a spirited portrait of himself. The most

striking feature of the poem, apart from a long and, to us who are not

Bedouins, painfully tedious description of the camel, is its insistence

on sensual enjoyment as the sole business of life:--

"Canst thou make me immortal, O thou that blamest me so

For haunting the battle and loving the pleasures that fly?

If thou hast not the power to ward me from Death, let me go

To meet him and scatter the wealth in my hand, ere I die.

Save only for three things in which noble youth take delight,

I care not how soon rises o'er me the coronach loud:

Wine that foams when the water is poured on it, ruddy, not bright.

Dark wine that I quaff stol'n away from the cavilling crowd;

"And second, my charge at the cry of distress on a steed

Bow-legged like the wolf you have startled when thirsty he cowers;

And third, the day-long with a lass in her tent of goat's hair

To hear the wild rain and beguile of their slowness the hours."[215]

Keeping, as far as possible, the chronological order, we have now to

mention two _Mu‘allaqas_ which, though not directly related to each

other,[216] are of the same period--the reign of ‘Amr b. Hind, King of

Ḥíra (554-568 A.D.). Moreover, their strong mutual resemblance and their

difference from the other _Mu‘allaqas_, especially from typical

_qaṣídas_ like those of ‘Antara and Labíd, is a further reason for

linking them together. Their distinguishing mark is the abnormal space

devoted to the main subject, which leaves little room for the

subsidiary motives.

[Sidenote: ‘Amr b. Kulthúm.]

‘Amr b. Kulthúm belonged to the tribe of Taghlib. His mother was Laylá,

a daughter of the famous poet and warrior Muhalhil. That she was a woman

of heroic mould appears from the following anecdote, which records a

deed of prompt vengeance on the part of ‘Amr that gave rise to the

proverb, "Bolder in onset than ‘Amr b. Kulthúm"[217]:--

[Sidenote: How ’Amr avenged an insult to his mother.]

One day ‘Amr. b. Hind, the King of Ḥíra, said to his

boon-companions, "Do ye know any Arab whose mother would disdain to

serve mine?" They answered, "Yes, the mother of ‘Amr b. Kulthúm."

"Why so?" asked the king. "Because," said they, "her father is

Muhalhil b. Rabí‘a and her uncle is Kulayb b. Wá’il, the most

puissant of the Arabs, and her husband is Kulthúm b. Málik, the

knightliest, and her son is ‘Amr, the chieftain of his tribe." Then

the king sent to ‘Amr b. Kulthúm, inviting him to pay a visit to

himself, and asking him to bring his mother, Laylá, to visit his own

mother, Hind. So ‘Amr came to Ḥíra with some men of Taghlib, and

Laylá came attended by a number of their women; and while the king

entertained ‘Amr and his friends in a pavilion which he had caused

to be erected between Ḥíra and the Euphrates, Laylá found

quarters with Hind in a tent adjoining. Now, the king had ordered

his mother, as soon as he should call for dessert, to dismiss the

servants, and cause Laylá to wait upon her. At the pre-arranged

signal she desired to be left alone with her guest, and said, "O

Laylá, hand me that dish." Laylá answered, "Let those who want

anything rise up and serve themselves." Hind repeated her demand,

and would take no denial. "O shame!" cried Laylá. "Help! Taghlib,

help!" When ‘Amr heard his mother's cry the blood flew to his

cheeks. He seized a sword hanging on the wall of the pavilion--the

only weapon there--and with a single blow smote the king dead.[218]

‘Amr's _Mu‘allaqa_ is the work of a man who united in himself the ideal

qualities of manhood as these were understood by a race which has never

failed to value, even too highly, the display of self-reliant action and

decisive energy. And if in ‘Amr's poem these virtues are displayed with

an exaggerated boastfulness which offends our sense of decency and

proper reserve, it would be a grave error to conclude that all this

sound and fury signifies nothing. The Bedouin poet deems it his bounden

duty to glorify to the utmost himself, his family, and his tribe; the

Bedouin warrior is never tired of proclaiming his unshakable valour and

recounting his brilliant feats of arms: he hurls menaces and vaunts in

the same breath, but it does not follow that he is a _Miles Gloriosus_.

‘Amr certainly was not: his _Mu‘allaqa_ leaves a vivid impression of

conscious and exultant strength. The first eight verses seem to have

been added to the poem at a very early date, for out of them arose the

legend that ‘Amr drank himself to death with unmixed wine. It is likely

that they were included in the original collection of the _Mu‘allaqát_,

and they are worth translating for their own sake:---

"Up, maiden! Fetch the morning-drink and spare not

The wine of Andarín,

Clear wine that takes a saffron hue when water

Is mingled warm therein.

The lover tasting it forgets his passion,

His heart is eased of pain;

The stingy miser, as he lifts the goblet,

Regardeth not his gain.

Pass round from left to right! Why let'st thou, maiden,

Me and my comrades thirst?

Yet am I, whom thou wilt not serve this morning,

Of us three not the worst!

Many a cup in Baalbec and Damascus

And Qáṣirín I drained,

Howbeit we, ordained to death, shall one day

Meet death, to us ordained."[219]

In the next passage he describes his grief at the departure of his

beloved, whom he sees in imagination arriving at her journey's end in

distant Yamáma:--

"And oh, my love and yearning when at nightfall

I saw her camels haste,

Until sharp peaks uptowered like serried sword-blades,

And me Yamáma faced!

Such grief no mother-camel feels, bemoaning

Her young one lost, nor she,

The grey-haired woman whose hard fate hath left her

Of nine sons graves thrice three."[220]

Now the poet turns abruptly to his main theme. He addresses the King of

Ḥíra, ‘Amr b. Hind, in terms of defiance, and warns the foes of

Taghlib that they will meet more than their match:--

"Father of Hind,[221] take heed and ere thou movest

Rashly against us, learn

That still our banners go down white to battle

And home blood-red return.

And many a chief bediademed, the champion

Of the outlaws of the land,

Have we o'erthrown and stripped him, while around him

Fast-reined the horses stand.

Our neighbours lopped like thorn-trees, snarls in terror

Of us the demon-hound;[222]

Never we try our hand-mill on the foemen

But surely they are ground.

We are the heirs of glory, all Ma‘add knows,[223]

Our lances it defend,

And when the tent-pole tumbles in the foray,

Trust us to save our friend![224]

O ‘Amr, what mean'st thou? Are we, we of Taghlib,

Thy princeling's retinue?

O ‘Amr, what mean'st thou, rating us and hearkening

To tale-bearers untrue?

O ‘Amr, ere thee full many a time our spear-shaft

Has baffled foes to bow;[225]

Nipped in the vice it kicks like a wild camel

That will no touch allow--

Like a wild camel, so it creaks in bending

And splits the bender's brow!"[226]

The _Mu‘allaqa_ ends with a eulogy, superb in its extravagance, of the

poet's tribe:--

"Well wot, when our tents rise along their valleys,

The men of every clan

That we give death to them that durst attempt us,

To friends what food we can;

That staunchly we maintain a cause we cherish,

Camp where we choose to ride,

Nor will we aught of peace, when we are angered,

Till we be satisfied.

We keep our vassals safe and sound, but rebels

We soon force to their knees;

And if we reach a well, we drink pure water,

Others the muddy lees.

Ours is the earth and all thereon: when _we_ strike,

There needs no second blow;

Kings lay before the new-weaned boy of Taghlib

Their heads in homage low.

We are called oppressors, being none, but shortly

A true name shall it be![227]

We have so filled the earth 'tis narrow for us,

And with our ships the sea![228]

[Sidenote: Ḥárith b. Ḥilliza.]

Less interesting is the _Mu‘allaqa_ of Ḥárith b. Ḥilliza of Bakr.

Its inclusion among the _Mu‘allaqát_ is probably due, as Nöldeke

suggested, to the fact that Ḥammád, himself a client of Bakr, wished

to flatter his patrons by selecting a counterpart to the _Mu‘allaqa_ of

‘Amr b. Kulthúm, which immortalised their great rivals, the Banú

Taghlib. Ḥárith's poem, however, has some historical importance, as

it throws light on feuds in Northern Arabia connected with the

antagonism of the Roman and Persian Empires. Its purpose is to complain

of unjust accusations made against the Banú Bakr by a certain group of

the Banú Taghlib known as the Aráqim:--

"Our brothers the Aráqim let their tongues

Against us rail unmeasuredly.

The innocent with the guilty they confound:

Of guilt what boots it to be free?

They brand us patrons of the vilest deed,

Our clients in each miscreant see."[229]

A person whom Ḥárith does not name was 'blackening' the Banú Bakr

before the King of Ḥíra. The poet tells him not to imagine that his

calumnies will have any lasting effect: often had Bakr been slandered by

their foes, but (he finely adds):--

"Maugre their hate we stand, by firm-based might

Exalted and by ancestry--

Might which ere now hath dazzled men's eyes: thence scorn

To yield and haughty spirit have we.

On us the Days beat as on mountain dark

That soars in cloudless majesty,

Compact against the hard calamitous shocks

And buffetings of Destiny."[230]

He appeals to the offenders not wantonly to break the peace which

ended the War of Basús:--

"Leave folly and error! If ye blind yourselves,

Just therein lies the malady.

Recall the oaths of Dhu ’l-Majáz[231] for which

Hostages gave security,

Lest force or guile should break them: can caprice

Annul the parchments utterly?[232]

[Sidenote: ‘Antara.]

‘Antara b. Shaddád, whose father belonged to the tribe of ‘Abs,

distinguished himself in the War of Dáḥis.[233] In modern times it is

not as a poet that he is chiefly remembered, but as a hero of

romance--the Bedouin Achilles. Goddess-born, however, he could not be

called by any stretch of imagination. His mother was a black slave, and

he must often have been taunted with his African blood, which showed

itself in a fiery courage that gained the respect of the pure-bred but

generally less valorous Arabs. ‘Antara loved his cousin ‘Abla, and

following the Arabian custom by which cousins have the first right to a

girl's hand, he asked her in marriage. His suit was vain--the son of a

slave mother being regarded as a slave unless acknowledged by his

father--until on one occasion, while the ‘Absites were hotly engaged

with some raiders who had driven off their camels, ‘Antara refused to

join in the mêlée, saying, "A slave does not understand how to fight;

his work is to milk the camels and bind their udders." "Charge!" cried

his father, "thou art free." Though ‘Antara uttered no idle boast when

he sang--

"On one side nobly born and of the best

Of ‘Abs am I: my sword makes good the rest!"

his contemptuous references to 'jabbering barbarians,' and to 'slaves

with their ears cut off, clad in sheepskins,' are characteristic of the

man who had risen to eminence in spite of the stain on his scutcheon. He

died at a great age in a foray against the neighbouring tribe of

Ṭayyi’. His _Mu‘allaqa_ is famous for its stirring battle-scenes, one

of which is translated here:--[234]

"Learn, Málik's daughter, how

I rush into the fray,

And how I draw back only

At sharing of the prey.

I never quit the saddle,

My strong steed nimbly bounds;

Warrior after warrior

Have covered him with wounds.

Full-armed against me stood

One feared of fighting men:

He fled not oversoon

Nor let himself be ta'en.

With straight hard-shafted spear

I dealt him in his side

A sudden thrust which opened

Two streaming gashes wide,

Two gashes whence outgurgled

His life-blood: at the sound

Night-roaming ravenous wolves

Flock eagerly around.

So with my doughty spear

I trussed his coat of mail--

For truly, when the spear strikes,

The noblest man is frail--

And left him low to banquet

The wild beasts gathering there;

They have torn off his fingers,

His wrist and fingers fair!"

[Sidenote: Zuhayr.]

While ‘Antara's poem belongs to the final stages of the War of Dáḥis,

the _Mu‘allaqa_ of his contemporary, Zuhayr b. Abí Sulmá, of the tribe

of Muzayna, celebrates an act of private munificence which brought about

the conclusion of peace. By the self-sacrificing intervention of two

chiefs of Dhubyán, Harim b. Sinán and Ḥárith b. ‘Awf, the whole sum

of blood-money to which the ‘Absites were entitled on account of the

greater number of those who had fallen on their side, was paid over to

them. Such an example of generous and disinterested patriotism--for

Harim and Ḥárith had shed no blood themselves--was a fit subject for

one of whom it was said that he never praised men but as they

deserved:--

Noble pair of Ghayẓ ibn Murra,[235] well ye laboured to restore

Ties of kindred hewn asunder by the bloody strokes of war.

Witness now mine oath the ancient House in Mecca's hallowed bound,[236]

Which its builders of Quraysh and Jurhum solemnly went round,[237]

That in hard or easy issue never wanting were ye found!

Peace ye gave to ‘Abs and Dhubyán when each fell by other's hand

And the evil fumes they pestled up between them filled the land."[238]

At the end of his panegyric the poet, turning to the lately reconciled

tribesmen and their confederates, earnestly warns them against nursing

thoughts of vengeance:--

"Will ye hide from God the guilt ye dare not unto Him disclose?

Verily, what thing soever ye would hide from God, He knows.

Either it is laid up meantime in a scroll and treasured there

For the day of retribution, or avenged all unaware.[239]

War ye have known and war have tasted: not by hearsay are ye wise.

Raise no more the hideous monster! If ye let her raven, she cries

Ravenously for blood and crushes, like a mill-stone, all below,

And from her twin-conceiving womb she brings forth woe on woe."[240]

After a somewhat obscure passage concerning the lawless deeds of a

certain Ḥusayn b. Ḑamḍam, which had well-nigh caused a fresh

outbreak of hostilities, Zuhayr proceeds, with a natural and touching

allusion to his venerable age, to enforce the lessons of conduct and

morality suggested by the situation:--

"I am weary of life's burden: well a man may weary be

After eighty years, and this much now is manifest to me:

Death is like a night-blind camel stumbling on:--the smitten die

But the others age and wax in weakness whom he passes by.

He that often deals with folk in unkind fashion, underneath

They will trample him and make him feel the sharpness of their teeth.

He that hath enough and over and is niggard with his pelf

Will be hated of his people and left free to praise himself.

He alone who with fair actions ever fortifies his fame

Wins it fully: blame will find him out unless he shrinks from blame.

He that for his cistern's guarding trusts not in his own stout arm

Sees it ruined: he must harm his foe or he must suffer harm.

He that fears the bridge of Death across it finally is driven,

Though he span as with a ladder all the space 'twixt earth and heaven.

He that will not take the lance's butt-end while he has the chance

Must thereafter be contented with the spike-end of the lance.

He that keeps his word is blamed not; he whose heart repaireth straight

To the sanctuary of duty never needs to hesitate.

He that hies abroad to strangers doth account his friends his foes;

He that honours not himself lacks honour wheresoe'er he goes.

Be a man's true nature what it will, that nature is revealed

To his neighbours, let him fancy as he may that 'tis concealed."[241]

The ripe sententious wisdom and moral earnestness of Zuhayr's poetry are

in keeping with what has been said above concerning his religious ideas

and, from another point of view, with the tradition that he used to

compose a _qaṣída_ in four months, correct it for four months, submit

it to the poets of his acquaintance during a like period, and not make

it public until a year had expired.

Of his life there is little to tell. Probably he died before Islam,

though it is related that when he was a centenarian he met the Prophet,

who cried out on seeing him, "O God, preserve me from his demon!"[242]

The poetical gifts which he inherited from his uncle Basháma he

bequeathed to his son Ka‘b, author of the famous ode, _Bánat Su‘ád_.

[Sidenote: Labíd.]

Labíd b. Rabí‘a, of the Banú ‘Ámir b. Ṣa‘ṣa‘a, was born in the

latter half of the sixth century, and is said to have died soon after

Mu‘áwiya's accession to the Caliphate, which took place in A.D. 661. He

is thus the youngest of the Seven Poets. On accepting Islam he abjured

poetry, saying, "God has given me the Koran in exchange for it." Like

Zuhayr, he had, even in his heathen days, a strong vein of religious

feeling, as is shown by many passages in his Díwán.

Labíd was a true Bedouin, and his _Mu‘allaqa_, with its charmingly fresh

pictures of desert life and scenery, must be considered one of the

finest examples of the Pre-islamic _qaṣída_ that have come down to

us. The poet owes something to his predecessors, but the greater part

seems to be drawn from his own observation. He begins in the

conventional manner by describing the almost unrecognisable vestiges of

the camping-ground of the clan to which his mistress belonged:--

"Waste lies the land where once alighted and did wone

The people of Miná: Rijám and Ghawl are lone.

The camp in Rayyán's vale is marked by relics dim

Like weather-beaten script engraved on ancient stone.

Over this ruined scene, since it was desolate,

Whole years with secular and sacred months had flown.

In spring 'twas blest by showers 'neath starry influence shed,

And thunder-clouds bestowed a scant or copious boon.

Pale herbs had shot up, ostriches on either slope

Their chicks had gotten and gazelles their young had thrown;

And large-eyed wild-cows there beside the new-born calves

Reclined, while round them formed a troop the calves half-grown.

Torrents of rain had swept the dusty ruins bare,

Until, as writing freshly charactered, they shone,

Or like to curved tattoo-lines on a woman's arm,

With soot besprinkled so that every line is shown.

I stopped and asked, but what avails it that we ask

Dumb changeless things that speak a language all unknown?"[243]

After lamenting the departure of his beloved the poet bids himself think

no more about her: he will ride swiftly away from the spot. Naturally,

he must praise his camel, and he introduces by way of comparison two

wonderful pictures of animal life. In the former the onager is described

racing at full speed over the backs of the hills when thirst and hunger

drive him with his mate far from the barren solitudes into which they

usually retire. The second paints a wild-cow, whose young calf has been

devoured by wolves, sleeping among the sand-dunes through a night of

incessant rain. At daybreak "her feet glide over the firm wet soil." For

a whole week she runs to and fro, anxiously seeking her calf, when

suddenly she hears the sound of hunters approaching and makes off in

alarm. Being unable to get within bowshot, the hunters loose their dogs,

but she turns desperately upon them, wounding one with her needle-like

horn and killing another.

Then, once more addressing his beloved, the poet speaks complacently of

his share in the feasting and revelling, on which a noble Arab plumes

himself hardly less than on his bravery:--

"Know'st thou not, O Nawár, that I am wont to tie

The cords of love, yet also snap them without fear?

That I abandon places when I like them not,

Unless Death chain the soul and straiten her career?

Nay, surely, but thou know'st not I have passed in talk

Many a cool night of pleasure and convivial cheer,

And often to a booth, above which hung for sign

A banner, have resorted when old wine was dear.

For no light price I purchased many a dusky skin

Or black clay jar, and broached it that the juice ran clear;

And many a song of shrill-voiced singing-girl I paid,

And her whose fingers made sweet music to mine ear."[244]

Continuing, he boasts of dangerous service as a spy in the enemy's

country, when he watched all day on the top of a steep crag; of his

fearless demeanour and dignified assertion of his rights in an assembly

at Ḥíra, to which he came as a delegate, and of his liberality to the

poor. The closing verses are devoted, in accordance with custom, to

matters of immediate interest and to a panegyric on the virtues of the

poet's kin.

Besides the authors of the _Mu‘allaqát_ three poets may be mentioned, of

whom the two first-named are universally acknowledged to rank with the

greatest that Arabia has produced--Nábigha, A‘shá, and ‘Alqama.

[Sidenote: Nábigha of Dhubyán.]

Nábigha[245]--his proper name is Ziyád b. Mu‘áwiya, of the tribe

Dhubyán--lived at the courts of Ghassán and Ḥíra during the latter

half of the century before Islam. His chief patron was King Nu‘mán b.

Mundhir Abú Qábús of Ḥíra. For many years he basked in the sunshine

of royal favour, enjoying every privilege that Nu‘mán bestowed on his

most intimate friends. The occasion of their falling out is differently

related. According to one story, the poet described the charms of Queen

Mutajarrida, which Nu‘mán had asked him to celebrate, with such charm

and liveliness as to excite her husband's suspicion; but it is said--and

Nábigha's own words make it probable--that his enemies denounced him as

the author of a scurrilous satire against Nu‘mán which had been forged

by themselves. At any rate he had no choice but to quit Ḥíra with all

speed, and ere long we find him in Ghassán, welcomed and honoured, as

the panegyrist of King ‘Amr b. Ḥárith and the noble house of Jafna.

But his heart was in Ḥíra still. Deeply wounded by the calumnies of

which he was the victim, he never ceased to affirm his innocence and to

lament the misery of exile. The following poem, which he addressed to

Nu‘mán, is at once a justification and an appeal for mercy[246]:--

"They brought me word, O King, thou blamedst me;

For this am I o'erwhelmed with grief and care.

I passed a sick man's night: the nurses seemed,

Spreading my couch, to have heaped up briars there.

Now (lest thou cherish in thy mind a doubt)

Invoking our last refuge, God, I swear

That he, whoever told thee I was false,

Is the more lying and faithless of the pair.

Exiled perforce, I found a strip of land

Where I could live and safely take the air:

Kings made me arbiter of their possessions,

And called me to their side and spoke me fair--

Even as thou dost grace thy favourites

Nor deem'st a fault the gratitude they bear.[247]

O leave thine anger! Else, in view of men

A mangy camel, smeared with pitch, I were.

Seest thou not God hath given thee eminence

Before which monarchs tremble and despair?

All other kings are stars and thou a sun:

When the sun rises, lo, the heavens are bare!

A friend in trouble thou wilt not forsake;

I may have sinned: in sinning all men share.

If I am wronged, thou hast but wronged a slave,

And if thou spar'st, 'tis like thyself to spare."

It is pleasant to record that Nábigha was finally reconciled to the

prince whom he loved, and that Ḥíra again became his home. The date

of his death is unknown, but it certainly took place before Islam was

promulgated. Had the opportunity been granted to him he might have died

a Moslem: he calls himself 'a religious man' (_dhú ummatin_),[248] and

although the tradition that he was actually a Christian lacks authority,

his long residence in Syria and ‘Iráq must have made him acquainted with

the externals of Christianity and with some, at least, of its leading

ideas.

[Sidenote: A‘shá.]

The grave and earnest tone characteristic of Nábigha's poetry seldom

prevails in that of his younger contemporary, Maymún b. Qays, who is

generally known by his surname, al-A‘shá--that is, 'the man of weak

sight.' A professional troubadour, he roamed from one end of Arabia to

the other, harp in hand, singing the praises of those who rewarded him;

and such was his fame as a satirist that few ventured to withhold the

bounty which he asked. By common consent he stands in the very first

rank of Arabian poets. Abu ’l-Faraj, the author of the _Kitábu

’l-Aghání_, declares him to be superior to all the rest, adding,

however, "this opinion is not held unanimously as regards A‘shá or any

other." His wandering life brought him into contact with every kind of

culture then existing in Arabia. Although he was not an avowed

Christian, his poetry shows to what an extent he was influenced by the

Bishops of Najrán, with whom he was intimately connected, and by the

Christian merchants of Ḥíra who sold him their wine. He did not rise

above the pagan level of morality.

It is related that he set out to visit Muḥammad for the purpose

of reciting to him an ode which he had composed in his honour. When

the Quraysh heard of this, they feared lest their adversary's

reputation should be increased by the panegyric of a bard so famous

and popular. Accordingly, they intercepted him on his way, and asked

whither he was bound. "To your kinsman," said he, "that I may accept

Islam." "He will forbid and make unlawful to thee certain practices

of which thou art fond." "What are these?" said A‘shá.

"Fornication," said Abú Sufyán, "I have not abandoned it," he

replied, "but it has abandoned me. What else?" "Gambling." "Perhaps

I shall obtain from him something to compensate me for the loss of

gambling. What else?" "Usury." "I have never borrowed nor lent. What

else?" "Wine." "Oh, in that case I will drink the water I have left

stored at al-Mihrás." Seeing that A‘shá was not to be deterred, Abú

Sufyán offered him a hundred camels on condition that he should

return to his home in Yamáma and await the issue of the struggle

between Muḥammad and the Quraysh. "I agree," said A‘shá. "O ye

Quraysh," cried Abú Sufyán, "this is A‘shá, and by God, if he

becomes a follower of Muḥammad, he will inflame the Arabs against

you by his poetry. Collect, therefore, a hundred camels for

him."[249]

A‘shá excels in the description of wine and wine-parties. One who

visited Manfúḥa in Yamáma, where the poet was buried, relates that

revellers used to meet at his grave and pour out beside it the last

drops that remained in their cups. As an example of his style in this

_genre_ I translate a few lines from the most celebrated of his poems,

which is included by some critics among the _Mu‘allaqát_:--

"Many a time I hastened early to the tavern--while there ran

At my heels a ready cook, a nimble, active serving-man--

'Midst a gallant troop, like Indian scimitars, of mettle high;

Well they know that every mortal, shod and bare alike, must die.

Propped at ease I greet them gaily, them with myrtle-boughs I greet,

Pass among them wine that gushes from the jar's mouth bittersweet.

Emptying goblet after goblet--but the source may no man drain--

Never cease they from carousing save to cry, 'Fill up again!'

Briskly runs the page to serve them: on his ears hang pearls: below,

Tight the girdle draws his doublet as he bustles to and fro.

'Twas the harp, thou mightest fancy, waked the lute's responsive note,

When the loose-robed chantress touched it and sang shrill with

quavering throat.

Here and there among the party damsels fair superbly glide:

Each her long white skirt lets trail and swings a wine-skin at her

side."[250]

[Sidenote: ‘Alqama.]

Very little is known of the life of ‘Alqama b. ‘Abada, who was surnamed

_al-Faḥl_ (the Stallion). His most famous poem is that which he

addressed to the Ghassánid Ḥárith al-A‘raj after the Battle of

Ḥalíma, imploring him to set free some prisoners of Tamím--the poet's

tribe--among whom was his own brother or nephew, Shás. The following

lines have almost become proverbial:--

"Of women do ye ask me? I can spy

Their ailments with a shrewd physician's eye.

The man whose head is grey or small his herds

No favour wins of them but mocking words.

Are riches known, to riches they aspire,

And youthful bloom is still their heart's desire."[251]

[Sidenote: Elegiac poetry.]

In view of these slighting verses it is proper to observe that the

poetry of Arabian women of the Pre-islamic period is distinctly

masculine in character. Their songs are seldom of Love, but often of

Death. Elegy (_rithá_ or _marthiya_) was regarded as their special

province. The oldest form of elegy appears in the verses chanted on the

death of Ta’abbaṭa Sharran by his sister:--

"O the good knight ye left low at Rakhmán,

Thábit son of Jábir son of Sufyán!

He filled the cup for friends and ever slew his man."[252]

"As a rule the Arabian dirge is very simple. The poetess begins with a

description of her grief, of the tears that she cannot quench, and then

she shows how worthy to be deeply mourned was he whom death has taken

away. He is described as a pattern of the two principal Arabian virtues,

bravery and liberality, and the question is anxiously asked, 'Who will

now make high resolves, overthrow the enemy, and in time of want feed

the poor and entertain the stranger?' If the hero of the dirge died a

violent death we find in addition a burning lust of revenge, a thirst

for the slayer's blood, expressed with an intensity of feeling of which

only women are capable."[253]

[Sidenote: Khansá.]

Among Arabian women who have excelled in poetry the place of honour is

due to Khansá--her real name was Tumáḍir--who flourished in the last

years before Islam. By far the most famous of her elegies are those in

which she bewailed her valiant brothers, Mu‘áwiya and Ṣakhr, both of

whom were struck down by sword or spear. It is impossible to translate

the poignant and vivid emotion, the energy of passion and noble

simplicity of style which distinguish the poetry of Khansá, but here are

a few verses:--

Death's messenger cried aloud the loss of the generous one,

So loud cried he, by my life, that far he was heard and wide.

Then rose I, and scarce my soul could follow to meet the news,

For anguish and sore dismay and horror that Ṣakhr had died.

In my misery and despair I seemed as a drunken man,

Upstanding awhile--then soon his tottering limbs subside."[254]

_Yudhakkiruní ṭulú‘u ’l-shamsi Ṣakhran

wa-adhkuruhú likulli ghurúbi shamsi._

"Sunrise awakes in me the sad remembrance

Of Ṣakhr, and I recall him at every sunset."

[Sidenote: The last poets born in the Age of Paganism.]

To the poets who have been enumerated many might be added--_e.g._,

Ḥassán b. Thábit, who was 'retained' by the Prophet and did useful

work on his behalf; Ka‘b b. Zuhayr, author or the famous panegyric on

Muḥammad beginning "_Bánat Su‘ád_" (Su‘ád has departed); Mutammim b.

Nuwayra, who, like Khansá, mourned the loss of a brother; Abú Miḥjan,

the singer of wine, whose devotion to the forbidden beverage was

punished by the Caliph ‘Umar with imprisonment and exile; and

al-Ḥuṭay’a (the Dwarf), who was unrivalled in satire. All these

belonged to the class of _Mukhaḍramún_, _i.e._, they were born in the

Pagan Age but died, if not Moslems, at any rate after the proclamation

of Islam.

[Sidenote: Collections of ancient poetry.]

The grammarians of Baṣra and Kúfa, by whom the remains of ancient

Arabian poetry were rescued from oblivion, arranged and collected their

material according to various principles. Either the poems of an

individual or those of a number of individuals belonging to the same

tribe or class were brought together--such a collection was called

_Díwán_, plural _Dawáwín_; or, again, the compiler edited a certain

number of _qaṣídas_ chosen for their fame or excellence or on other

grounds, or he formed an anthology of shorter pieces or fragments, which

were arranged under different heads according to their subject-matter.

[Sidenote: Díwáns.]

Among _Díwáns_ mention may be made of _The Díwáns of the Six Poets_,

viz. Nábigha, ‘Antara, Ṭarafa, Zuhayr, ‘Alqama, and Imru’u ’l-Qays,

edited with a full commentary by the Spanish philologist al-A‘lam

(† 1083 A.D.) and published in 1870 by Ahlwardt; and of _The Poems of the

Hudhaylites_ (_Ash‘áru ’l-Hudhaliyyín_) collected by al-Sukkarí

(† 888 A.D.), which have been published by Kosegarten and Wellhausen.

The chief Anthologies, taken in the order of their composition, are:--

[Sidenote: Anthologies. 1. The _Mu‘allaqát_.]

1. The _Mu‘allaqát_, which is the title given to a collection of seven

odes by Imru’u ’l-Qays, Ṭarafa, Zuhayr, Labíd, ‘Antara, ‘Amr b.

Kulthúm, and Ḥárith b. Ḥilliza; to these two odes by Nábigha and

A‘shá are sometimes added. The compiler was probably Ḥammád

al-Ráwiya, a famous rhapsodist of Persian descent, who flourished under

the Umayyads and died in the second half of the eighth century of our

era. As the _Mu‘allaqát_ have been discussed above, we may pass on

directly to a much larger, though less celebrated, collection dating

from the same period, viz.:--

[Sidenote: 2. The _Mufaḍḍaliyyát_.]

2. The _Mufaḍḍaliyyát_,[255] by which title it is generally known

after its compiler, Mufaḍḍal al-Ḑabbí († circa 786 A.D.), who

made it at the instance of the Caliph Manṣúr for the instruction of

his son and successor, Mahdí. It comprises 128 odes and is extant in two

recensions, that of Anbárí († 916 A.D.), which derives from Ibnu

’l-A‘rábí, the stepson of Mufaḍḍal, and that of Marzúqí († 1030

A.D.). About a third of the _Mufaḍḍaliyyát_ was published in 1885

by Thorbecke, and Sir Charles Lyall has recently edited the complete

text with Arabic commentary and English translation and notes.[256]

All students of Arabian poetry are familiar with--

[Sidenote: 3. The _Ḥamása_ of Abú Tammám.]

3. The _Ḥamása_ of Abú Tammám Ḥabíb b. Aws, himself a

distinguished poet, who flourished under the Caliphs Ma’mún and

Mu‘taṣim, and died about 850 A.D. Towards the end of his life he

visited ‘Abdulláh b. Ṭáhir, the powerful governor of Khurásán, who

was virtually an independent sovereign. It was on this journey, as Ibn

Khallikán relates, that Abú Tammám composed the _Ḥamása_; for on

arriving at Hamadhán (Ecbatana) the winter had set in, and as the cold

was excessively severe in that country, the snow blocked up the road and

obliged him to stop and await the thaw. During his stay he resided with

one of the most eminent men of the place, who possessed a library in

which were some collections of poems composed by the Arabs of the desert

and other authors. Having then sufficient leisure, he perused those

works and selected from them the passages out of which he formed his

_Ḥamása_.[257] The work is divided into ten sections of unequal

length, the first, from which it received its name, occupying (together

with the commentary) 360 pages in Freytag's edition, while the seventh

and eighth require only thirteen pages between them. These sections or

chapters bear the following titles:--

I. The Chapter of Fortitude (_Bábu ’l-Ḥamása_).

II. The Chapter of Dirges (_Bábu ’l-Maráthí_).

III. The Chapter of Good Manners (_Bábu ’l-Adab_).

IV. The Chapter of Love-Songs (_Bábu ’l-Nasíb_).

V. The Chapter of Satire (_Bábu ’l-Hijá_).

VI. The Chapter of Guests (Hospitality) and Panegyric (_Bábu

’l-Aḍyáf wa ’l-Madíh_).

VII. The Chapter of Descriptions (_Bábu ’l-Ṣifát_).

VIII. The Chapter of Travel and Repose (_Bábu ’l-Sayr wa ’l-Nu‘ás_).

IX. The Chapter of Facetiæ (_Bábu ’l-Mulaḥ_).

X. The Chapter of Vituperation of Women (_Bábu Madhammati

’l-Nisá_).

The contents of the _Ḥamása_ include short poems complete in

themselves as well as passages extracted from longer poems; of the poets

represented, some of whom belong to the Pre-islamic and others to the

early Islamic period, comparatively few are celebrated, while many are

anonymous or only known by the verses attached to their names. If the

high level of excellence attained by these obscure singers shows, on the

one hand, that a natural genius for poetry was widely diffused and that

the art was successfully cultivated among all ranks of Arabian society,

we must not forget how much is due to the fine taste of Abú Tammám, who,

as the commentator Tibrízí has remarked, "is a better poet in his

_Ḥamása_ than in his poetry."

[Sidenote: 4. The _Ḥamása_ of Buḥturí.]

4. The _Ḥamása_ of Buḥturí († 897 A.D.), a younger contemporary of

Abú Tammám, is inferior to its model.[258] However convenient from a

practical standpoint, the division into a great number of sections, each

illustrating a narrowly defined topic, seriously impairs the artistic

value of the work; moreover, Buḥturí seems to have had a less

catholic appreciation of the beauties of poetry--he admired, it is said,

only what was in harmony with his own style and ideas.

[Sidenote: 5. The _Jamhara_.]

5. The _Jamharatu Ash‘ári ’l-‘Arab_, a collection of forty-nine odes,

was put together probably about 1000 A.D. by Abú Zayd Muḥammad

al-Qurashí, of whom we find no mention elsewhere.

[Sidenote: Prose sources.]

Apart from the _Díwáns_ and anthologies, numerous Pre-islamic verses are

cited in biographical, philological, and other works, _e.g._, the

_Kitábu ’l-Aghání_ by Abu ’l-Faraj of Iṣfahán († 967 _A.D._), the

_Kitábu ’l-Amálí_ by Abú ‘Alí al-Qálí († 967 _A.D._), the _Kámil_ of

Mubarrad († 898 A.D.), and the _Khizánatu ’l-Adab_ of ‘Abdu ’l-Qádir of

Baghdád († 1682 A.D.).

[Sidenote: The tradition of Pre-islamic poetry.]

[Sidenote: The Ráwís.]

[Sidenote: The Humanists.]

We have seen that the oldest existing poems date from the beginning of

the sixth century of our era, whereas the art of writing did not come

into general use among the Arabs until some two hundred years

afterwards. Pre-islamic poetry, therefore, was preserved by oral

tradition alone, and the question arises, How was this possible? What

guarantee have we that songs living on men's lips for so long a period

have retained their original form, even approximately? No doubt many

verses, _e.g._, those which glorified the poet's tribe or satirised

their enemies, were constantly being recited by his kin, and in this way

short occasional poems or fragments of longer ones might be perpetuated.

Of whole _qaṣídas_ like the _Mu‘allaqát_, however, none or very few

would have reached us if their survival had depended solely on their

popularity. What actually saved them in the first place was an

institution resembling that of the Rhapsodists in Greece. Every

professed poet had his _Ráwí_ (reciter), who accompanied him everywhere,

committed his poems to memory, and handed them down, as well as the

circumstances connected with them, to others. The characters of poet and

_ráwí_ were often combined; thus Zuhayr was the _ráwí_ of his stepfather,

Aws b. Ḥajar, while his own _ráwí_ was al-Ḥuṭay’a. If the

tradition of poetry was at first a labour of love, it afterwards became

a lucrative business, and the _Ráwís_, instead of being attached to

individual poets, began to form an independent class, carrying in their

memories a prodigious stock of ancient verse and miscellaneous learning.

It is related, for example, that Ḥammád once said to the Caliph Walíd

b. Yazíd: "I can recite to you, for each letter of the alphabet, one

hundred long poems rhyming in that letter, without taking into count the

short pieces, and all that composed exclusively by poets who lived

before the promulgation of Islamism." He commenced and continued until

the Caliph, having grown fatigued, withdrew, after leaving a person in

his place to verify the assertion and hear him to the last. In that

sitting he recited two thousand nine hundred _qaṣídas_ by poets who

flourished before Muḥammad. Walíd, on being informed of the fact,

ordered him a present of one hundred thousand dirhems.[259] Thus,

towards the end of the first century after the Hijra, _i.e._, about 700

A.D., when the custom of _writing_ poetry began, there was much of

Pre-islamic origin still in circulation, although it is probable that

far more had already been irretrievably lost. Numbers of _Ráwís_

perished in the wars, or passed away in the course of nature, without

leaving any one to continue their tradition. New times had brought new

interests and other ways of life. The great majority of Moslems had no

sympathy whatever with the ancient poetry, which represented in their

eyes the unregenerate spirit of heathendom. They wanted nothing beyond

the Koran and the Ḥadíth. But for reasons which will be stated in

another chapter the language of the Koran and the Ḥadíth was rapidly

becoming obsolete as a spoken idiom outside of the Arabian peninsula:

the 'perspicuous Arabic' on which Muḥammad prided himself had ceased

to be fully intelligible to the Moslems settled in ‘Iráq and Khurásán,

in Syria, and in Egypt. It was essential that the Sacred Text should be

explained, and this necessity gave birth to the sciences of Grammar and

Lexicography. The Philologists, or, as they have been aptly designated,

the Humanists of Baṣra and Kúfa, where these studies were prosecuted

with peculiar zeal, naturally found their best material in the

Pre-islamic poems--a well of Arabic undefiled. At first the ancient

poetry merely formed a basis for philological research, but in process

of time a literary enthusiasm was awakened. The surviving _Ráwís_ were

eagerly sought out and induced to yield up their stores, the

compositions of famous poets were collected, arranged, and committed to

writing, and as the demand increased, so did the supply.[260]

[Sidenote: Corrupt tradition of the old poetry.]

[Sidenote: Ḥammád al-Ráwiya.]

[Sidenote: Khalaf al-Aḥmar.]

In these circumstances a certain amount of error was inevitable. Apart

from unconscious failings of memory, there can be no doubt that in many

cases the _Ráwís_ acted with intent to deceive. The temptation to father

their own verses, or centos which they pieced together from sources

known only to themselves, upon some poet of antiquity was all the

stronger because they ran little risk of detection. In knowledge of

poetry and in poetical talent they were generally far more than a match

for the philologists, who seldom possessed any critical ability, but

readily took whatever came to hand. The stories which are told of Ḥammád

al-Ráwiya, clearly show how unscrupulous he was in his methods, though

we have reason to suppose that he was not a typical example of his

class. His contemporary, Mufaḍḍal al-Ḑabbí, is reported to have said

that the corruption which poetry suffered through Ḥammád could never be

repaired, "for," he added, "Ḥammád is a man skilled in the language and

poesy of the Arabs and in the styles and ideas of the poets, and he is

always making verses in imitation of some one and introducing them into

genuine compositions by the same author, so that the copy passes

everywhere for part of the original, and cannot be distinguished from it

except by critical scholars--and where are such to be found?"[261] This

art of forgery was brought to perfection by Khalaf al-Aḥmar († about 800

A.D.), who learned it in the school of Ḥammád. If he really composed the

famous _Lámiyya_ ascribed to Shanfará, his own poetical endowments must

have been of the highest order. In his old age he repented and confessed

that he was the author of several poems which the scholars of Baṣra and

Kúfa had accepted as genuine, but they laughed him to scorn, saying,

"What you said then seems to us more trustworthy than your present

assertion."

[Sidenote: Other causes of corruption.]

Besides the corruptions due to the _Ráwís_, others have been accumulated

by the philologists themselves. As the Koran and the Ḥadíth were, of

course, spoken and afterwards written in the dialect of Quraysh, to whom

Muḥammad belonged, this dialect was regarded as the classical

standard;[262] consequently the variations therefrom which occurred in

the ancient poems were, for the most part, 'emended' and harmonised with

it. Many changes were made under the influence of Islam, _e.g._, 'Allah'

was probably often substituted for the pagan goddess 'al-Lát.' Moreover,

the structure of the _qaṣída_, its disconnectedness and want of logical

cohesion, favoured the omission and transposition of whole passages or

single verses. All these modes of depravation might be illustrated in

detail, but from what has been said the reader can judge for himself how

far the poems, as they now stand, are likely to have retained the form

in which they were first uttered to the wild Arabs of the Pre-islamic

Age.

[Sidenote: Religion.]

[Sidenote: The Fair of ‘Ukáẓ.]

Religion had so little influence on the lives of the Pre-islamic Arabs

that we cannot expect to find much trace of it in their poetry. They

believed vaguely in a supreme God, Allah, and more definitely in his

three daughters--al-Lát, Manát, and al-‘Uzzá--who were venerated all

over Arabia and whose intercession was graciously accepted by Allah.

There were also numerous idols enjoying high favour while they continued

to bring good luck to their worshippers. Of real piety the ordinary

Bedouin knew nothing. He felt no call to pray to his gods, although he

often found them convenient to swear by. He might invoke Allah in the

hour of need, as a drowning man will clutch at a straw; but his faith in

superstitious ceremonies was stronger. He did not take his religion too

seriously. Its practical advantages he was quick to appreciate. Not to

mention baser pleasures, it gave him rest and security during the four

sacred months, in which war was forbidden, while the institution of the

Meccan Pilgrimage enabled him to take part in a national fête. Commerce

went hand in hand with religion. Great fairs were held, the most famous

being that of ‘Ukáẓ, which lasted for twenty days. These fairs were in

some sort the centre of old Arabian social, political, and literary

life. It was the only occasion on which free and fearless intercourse

was possible between the members of different clans.[263]

Plenty of excitement was provided by poetical and oratorical

displays--not by athletic sports, as in ancient Greece and modern

England. Here rival poets declaimed their verses and submitted them to

the judgment of an acknowledged master. Nowhere else had rising talents

such an opportunity of gaining wide reputation: what ‘Ukáẓ said to-day

all Arabia would repeat to-morrow. At ‘Ukáẓ, we are told, the youthful

Muḥammad listened, as though spellbound, to the persuasive eloquence of

Quss b. Sá‘ida, Bishop of Najrán; and he may have contrasted the

discourse of the Christian preacher with the brilliant odes chanted by

heathen bards.

The Bedouin view of life was thoroughly hedonistic. Love, wine,

gambling, hunting, the pleasures of song and romance, the brief,

pointed, and elegant expression of wit and wisdom--these things he knew

to be good. Beyond them he saw only the grave.

"Roast meat and wine: the swinging ride

On a camel sure and tried,

Which her master speeds amain

O'er low dale and level plain:

Women marble-white and fair

Trailing gold-fringed raiment rare:

Opulence, luxurious ease,

With the lute's soft melodies--

Such delights hath our brief span;

Time is Change, Time's fool is Man.

Wealth or want, great store or small,

All is one since Death's are all."[264]

It would be a mistake to suppose that these men always, or even

generally, passed their lives in the aimless pursuit of pleasure. Some

goal they had--earthly, no doubt--such as the accumulation of wealth or

the winning of glory or the fulfilment of blood-revenge. "_God forbid_"

says one, "_that I should die while a grievous longing, as it were a

mountain, weighs on my breast!_"[265] A deeper chord is touched by

Imru’u ’l-Qays: "_If I strove for a bare livelihood, scanty means would

suffice me and I would seek no more. But I strive for lasting renown,

and 'tis men like me that sometimes attain lasting renown. Never, while

life endures, does a man reach the summit of his ambition or cease from

toil._"[266]

[Sidenote: Judaism and Christianity in Arabia.]

[Sidenote: The ‘Ibád of Ḥíra.]

[Sidenote: ‘Adí b. Zayd.]

These are noble sentiments nobly expressed. Yet one hears the sigh of

weariness, as if the speaker were struggling against the conviction that

his cause is already lost, and would welcome the final stroke of

destiny. It was a time of wild uproar and confusion. Tribal and family

feuds filled the land, as Zuhayr says, with evil fumes. No wonder that

earnest and thoughtful minds asked themselves--What worth has our life,

what meaning? Whither does it lead? Such questions paganism could not

answer, but Arabia in the century before Muḥammad was not wholly

abandoned to paganism. Jewish colonists had long been settled in the

Ḥijáz. Probably the earliest settlements date from the conquest of

Palestine by Titus or Hadrian. In their new home the refugees, through

contact with a people nearly akin to themselves, became fully

Arabicised, as the few extant specimens of their poetry bear witness.

They remained Jews, however, not only in their cultivation of trade and

various industries, but also in the most vital particular--their

religion. This, and the fact that they lived in isolated communities

among the surrounding population, marked them out as the salt of the

desert. In the Ḥijáz their spiritual predominance was not seriously

challenged. It was otherwise in Yemen. We may leave out of account the

legend according to which Judaism was introduced into that country from

the Ḥijáz by the Tubba‘ As‘ad Kámil. What is certain is that towards the

beginning of the sixth century it was firmly planted there side by side

with Christianity, and that in the person of the Ḥimyarite monarch Dhú

Nuwás, who adopted the Jewish faith, it won a short-lived but sanguinary

triumph over its rival. But in Yemen, except among the highlanders of

Najrán, Christianity does not appear to have flourished as it did in the

extreme north and north-east, where the Roman and Persian frontiers were

guarded by the Arab levies of Ghassán and Ḥíra. We have seen that the

latter city contained a large Christian population who were called

distinctively ‘Ibád, _i.e._, Servants (of God). Through them the Aramaic

culture of Babylonia was transmitted to all parts of the peninsula. They

had learned the art of writing long before it was generally practised in

Arabia, as is shown by the story of Ṭarafa and Mutalammis, and they

produced the oldest _written_ poetry in the Arabic language--a poetry

very different in character from that which forms the main subject of

this chapter. Unfortunately the bulk of it has perished, since the

rhapsodists, to whom we owe the preservation of so much Pre-islamic

verse, were devoted to the traditional models and would not burden their

memories with anything new-fashioned. The most famous of the ‘Ibádí

poets is ‘Adí b. Zayd, whose adventurous career as a politician has been

sketched above. He is not reckoned by Muḥammadan critics among the

_Fuḥúl_ or poets of the first rank, because he was a townsman

(_qarawí_). In this connection the following anecdote is instructive.

The poet al-‘Ajjáj († about 709 A.D.) said of his contemporaries

al-Ṭirimmáḥ and al-Kumayt: "They used to ask me concerning rare

expressions in the language of poetry, and I informed them, but

afterwards I found the same expressions wrongly applied in their poems,

the reason being that they were townsmen who described what they had not

seen and misapplied it, whereas I who am a Bedouin describe what I have

seen and apply it properly."[267] ‘Adí is chiefly remembered for his

wine-songs. Oriental Christianity has always been associated with the

drinking and selling of wine. Christian ideas were carried into the

heart of Arabia by ‘Ibádí wine merchants, who are said to have taught

their religion to the celebrated A‘shá. ‘Adí drank and was merry like

the rest, but the underlying thought, 'for to-morrow we die,' repeatedly

makes itself heard. He walks beside a cemetery, and the voices of the

dead call to him--[268]

"Thou who seest us unto thyself shalt say,

'Soon upon me comes the season of decay.'

Can the solid mountains evermore sustain

Time's vicissitudes and all they bring in train?

Many a traveller lighted near us and abode,

Quaffing wine wherein the purest water flowed--

Strainers on each flagon's mouth to clear the wine,

Noble steeds that paw the earth in trappings fine!

For a while they lived in lap of luxury,

Fearing no misfortune, dallying lazily.

Then, behold, Time swept them all, like chaff, away:

Thus it is men fall to whirling Time a prey.

Thus it is Time keeps the bravest and the best

Night and day still plunged in Pleasure's fatal quest."

It is said that the recitation of these verses induced Nu‘mán al-Akbar,

one of the mythical pagan kings of Ḥíra, to accept Christianity and

become an anchorite. Although the story involves an absurd anachronism,

it is _ben trovato_ in so far as it records the impression which the

graver sort of Christian poetry was likely to make on heathen minds.

[Sidenote: Pre-Islamic poetry not exclusively pagan in sentiment.]

The courts of Ḥíra and Ghassán were well known to the wandering

minstrels of the time before Muḥammad, who flocked thither in eager

search of patronage and remuneration. We may be sure that men like

Nábigha, Labíd, and A‘shá did not remain unaffected by the culture

around them, even if it seldom entered very deeply into their lives.

That considerable traces of religious feeling are to be found in

Pre-islamic poetry admits of no denial, but the passages in question

were formerly explained as due to interpolation. This view no longer

prevails. Thanks mainly to the arguments of Von Kremer, Sir Charles

Lyall, and Wellhausen, it has come to be recognised (1) that in many

cases the above-mentioned religious feeling is not Islamic in tone; (2)

that the passages in which it occurs are not of Islamic origin; and (3)

that it is the natural and necessary result of the widely spread, though

on the whole superficial, influence of Judaism, and especially of

Christianity.[269] It shows itself not only in frequent allusions,

_e.g._, to the monk in his solitary cell, whose lamp serves to light

belated travellers on their way, and in more significant references,

such as that of Zuhayr already quoted, to the Heavenly Book in which

evil actions are enscrolled for the Day of Reckoning, but also in the

tendency to moralise, to look within, to meditate on death, and to value

the life of the individual rather than the continued existence of the

family. These things are not characteristic of old Arabian poetry, but

the fact that they do appear at times is quite in accord with the other

facts which have been stated, and justifies the conclusion that during

the sixth century religion and culture were imperceptibly extending

their sphere of influence in Arabia, leavening the pagan masses, and

gradually preparing the way for Islam.

CHAPTER IV

THE PROPHET AND THE KORAN

With the appearance of Muḥammad the almost impenetrable veil thrown over

the preceding age is suddenly lifted and we find ourselves on the solid

ground of historical tradition. In order that the reasons for this

change may be understood, it is necessary to give some account of the

principal sources from which our knowledge of the Prophet's life and

teaching is derived.

[Sidenote: Sources of information: I. The Koran.]

[Sidenote: How it was preserved.]

[Sidenote: Value of the Koran as an authority.]

There is first, of course, the Koran,[270] consisting "exclusively of

the revelations or commands which Muḥammad professed, from time to time,

to receive through Gabriel as a message direct from God; and which,

under an alleged Divine direction, he delivered to those about him. At

the time of pretended inspiration, or shortly after, each passage was

recited by Muḥammad before the Companions or followers who happened to

be present, and was generally committed to writing by some one amongst

them upon palm-leaves, leather, stones, or such other rude material as

conveniently came to hand. These Divine messages continued throughout

the three-and-twenty years of his prophetical life, so that the last

portion did not appear till the year of his death. The canon was then

closed; but the contents were never, during the Prophet's lifetime,

systematically arranged, or even collected together."[271] They were

preserved, however, in fragmentary copies and, especially, by oral

recitation until the sanguinary wars which followed Muḥammad's death had

greatly diminished the number of those who could repeat them by heart.

Accordingly, after the battle of Yamáma (633 A.D.) ‘Umar b. al-Khaṭṭáb

came to Abú Bakr, who was then Caliph, and said: "I fear that slaughter

may wax hot among the Reciters on other battle-fields, and that much of

the Koran may be lost; so in my opinion it should be collected without

delay." Abú Bakr agreed, and entrusted the task to Zayd b. Thábit, one

of the Prophet's amanuenses, who collected the fragments with great

difficulty "from bits of parchment, thin white stones, leafless

palm-branches, and the bosoms of men." The manuscript thus compiled was

deposited with Abú Bakr during the remainder of his life, then with

‘Umar, on whose death it passed to his daughter Ḥafṣa. Afterwards, in

the Caliphate of ‘Uthmán, Ḥudhayfa b. al-Yamán, observing that the Koran

as read in Syria was seriously at variance with the text current in

‘Iráq, warned the Caliph to interfere, lest the Sacred Book of the

Moslems should become a subject of dispute, like the Jewish and

Christian scriptures. In the year 651 A.D. ‘Uthmán ordered Zayd b.

Thábit to prepare a Revised Version with the assistance of three

Qurayshites, saying to the latter, "If ye differ from Zayd regarding any

word of the Koran, write it in the dialect of Quraysh; for it was

revealed in their dialect."[272] This has ever since remained the final

and standard recension of the Koran. "Transcripts were multiplied and

forwarded to the chief cities in the empire, and all previously existing

copies were, by the Caliph's command, committed to the flames."[273] In

the text as it has come down to us the various readings are few and

unimportant, and its genuineness is above suspicion. We shall see,

moreover, that the Koran is an exceedingly human document, reflecting

every phase of Muḥammad's personality and standing in close relation to

the outward events of his life, so that here we have materials of unique

and incontestable authority for tracing the origin and early development

of Islam--such materials as do not exist in the case of Buddhism or

Christianity or any other ancient religion. Unfortunately the

arrangement of the Koran can only be described as chaotic. No

chronological sequence is observed in the order of the Súras (chapters),

which is determined simply by their length, the longest being placed

first.[274] Again, the chapters themselves are sometimes made up of

disconnected fragments having nothing in common except the rhyme; whence

it is often impossible to discover the original context of the words

actually spoken by the Prophet, the occasion on which they were

revealed, or the period to which they belong. In these circumstances the

Koran must be supplemented by reference to our second main source of

information, namely, Tradition.

[Sidenote: 2. Tradition (Ḥadíth).]

[Sidenote: Biographies of Muḥammad.]

[Sidenote: General collections.]

[Sidenote: Commentaries on the Koran.]

Already in the last years of Muḥammad's life (writes Dr. Sprenger) it

was a pious custom that when two Moslems met, one should ask for news

(_ḥadíth_) and the other should relate a saying or anecdote of the

Prophet. After his death this custom continued, and the name _Ḥadíth_

was still applied to sayings and stories which were no longer new.[275]

In the course of time an elaborate system of Tradition was built up, as

the Koran--originally the sole criterion by which Moslems were guided

alike in the greatest and smallest matters of public and private

interest--was found insufficient for the complicated needs of a rapidly

extending empire. Appeal was made to the sayings and practice (_sunna_)

of Muḥammad, which now acquired "the force of law and some of the

authority of inspiration." The Prophet had no Boswell, but almost as

soon as he began to preach he was a marked man whose _obiter dicta_

could not fail to be treasured by his Companions, and whose actions were

attentively watched. Thus, during the first century of Islam there was a

multitude of living witnesses from whom traditions were collected,

committed to memory, and orally handed down. Every tradition consists of

two parts: the text (_matn_) and the authority (_sanad_, or _isnád_),

_e.g._, the relater says, "I was told by _A_, who was informed by _B_,

who had it from _C_, that the Prophet (God bless him!) and Abú Bakr and

‘Umar used to open prayer with the words 'Praise to God, the Lord of all

creatures.'" Written records and compilations were comparatively rare in

the early period. Ibn Isḥáq († 768 A.D.) composed the oldest extant

Biography of the Prophet, which we do not possess, however, in its

original shape but only in the recension of Ibn Hishám († 833 A.D.). Two

important and excellent works of the same kind are the _Kitábu

’l-Maghází_ ('Book of the Wars') by Wáqidí († 822 A.D.) and the _Kitábu

’l-Ṭabaqát al-Kabír_ ('The Great Book of the Classes,' _i.e._, the

different classes of Muḥammad's Companions and those who came after

them) by Ibn Sa‘d († 844 A.D.). Of miscellaneous traditions intended to

serve the Faithful as a model and rule of life in every particular, and

arranged in chapters according to the subject-matter, the most ancient

and authoritative collections are those of Bukhárí († 870 A.D.) and

Muslim († 874 A.D.), both of which bear the same title, viz.,

_al-Ṣaḥíḥ_, 'The Genuine.' It only remains to speak of Commentaries on

the Koran. Some passages were explained by Muḥammad himself, but the

real founder of Koranic Exegesis was ‘Abdulláh b. ‘Abbás, the Prophet's

cousin. Although the writings of the early interpreters have entirely

perished, the gist of their researches is embodied in the great

commentary of Ṭabarí († 922 A.D.), a man of encyclopædic learning who

absorbed the whole mass of tradition existing in his time. Subsequent

commentaries are largely based on this colossal work, which has recently

been published at Cairo in thirty volumes. That of Zamakhsharí († 1143

A.D.), which is entitled the _Kashsháf_, and that of Bayḍáwí († 1286

A.D.) are the best known and most highly esteemed in the Muḥammadan

East. A work of wider scope is the _Itqán_ of Suyúṭí († 1505 A.D.),

which takes a general survey of the Koranic sciences, and may be

regarded as an introduction to the critical study of the Koran.

[Sidenote: Character of Moslem tradition.]

While every impartial student will admit the justice of Ibn Qutayba's

claim that no religion has such historical attestations as Islam--_laysa

li-ummatin mina ’l-umami asnádun ka-asnádihim_[276]--he must at the same

time cordially assent to the observation made by another Muḥammadan: "In

nothing do we see pious men more given to falsehood than in Tradition"

(_lam nara ’l-ṣáliḥína? fí shayin akdhaba minhum fi ’l-ḥadíth_).[277] Of

this severe judgment the reader will find ample confirmation in the

Second Part of Goldziher's _Muhammedanische Studien_.[278] During the

first century of Islam the forging of Traditions became a recognised

political and religious weapon, of which all parties availed themselves.

Even men of the strictest piety practised this species of fraud

(_tadlís_), and maintained that the end justified the means. Their point

of view is well expressed in the following words which are supposed to

have been spoken by the Prophet: "You must compare the sayings

attributed to me with the Koran; what agrees therewith is from me,

whether I actually said it or no;" and again, "Whatever good saying has

been said, I myself have said it."[279] As the result of such principles

every new doctrine took the form of an Apostolic _Ḥadíth_; every sect

and every system defended itself by an appeal to the authority of

Muḥammad. We may see how enormous was the number of false Traditions in

circulation from the fact that when Bukhárí († 870 A.D.) drew up his

collection entitled 'The Genuine' (_al-Ṣaḥíḥ_), he limited it to some

7,000, which he picked out of 600,000.

The credibility of Tradition, so far as it concerns the life of the

Prophet, cannot be discussed in this place.[280] The oldest and best

biography, that of Ibn Isḥáq, undoubtedly contains a great deal of

fabulous matter, but his narrative appears to be honest and fairly

authentic on the whole.

[Sidenote: Birth of Muḥammad.]

If we accept the traditional chronology, Muḥammad, son of ‘Abdulláh and

Ámina, of the tribe of Quraysh, was born at Mecca on the 12th of Rabí‘

al-Awwal, in the Year of the Elephant (570-571 A.D.). His descent from

Quṣayy is shown by the following table:--

Quṣayy.

│

‘Abd Manáf.

│

┌────────┴───────────┐

│ │

‘Abd Shams. Háshim.

│ │

Umayya. ‘Abdu ’l-Muṭṭalib.

│

┌───────────+─────────────┐

│ │ │

‘Abbás. ‘Abdulláh. Abú Ṭálib.

│

MUḤAMMAD.

[Sidenote: His childhood.]

Shortly after his birth he was handed over to a Bedouin nurse--Ḥalíma, a

woman of the Banú Sa‘d--so that until he was five years old he breathed

the pure air and learned to speak the unadulterated language of the

desert. One marvellous event which is said to have happened to him at

this time may perhaps be founded on fact:--

[Sidenote: Muḥammad and the two angels.]

"He and his foster-brother" (so Ḥalíma relates) "were among the

cattle behind our encampment when my son came running to us and

cried, 'My brother, the Qurayshite! two men clad in white took him

and laid him on his side and cleft his belly; and they were stirring

their hands in it.' When my husband and I went out to him we found

him standing with his face turned pale, and on our asking, 'What

ails thee, child?' he answered, 'Two men wearing white garments came

to me and laid me on my side and cleft my belly and groped for

something, I know not what.' We brought him back to our tent, and my

husband said to me, 'O Ḥalíma, I fear this lad has been smitten

(_uṣíba_); so take him home to his family before it becomes

evident.' When we restored him to his mother she said, 'What has

brought thee, nurse? Thou wert so fond of him and anxious that he

should stay with thee.' I said, 'God has made him grow up, and I

have done my part. I feared that some mischance would befall him, so

I brought him back to thee as thou wishest.' 'Thy case is not thus,'

said she; 'tell me the truth,' and she gave me no peace until I told

her. Then she said, 'Art thou afraid that he is possessed by the

Devil?' I said, 'Yes.' 'Nay, by God,' she replied, 'the Devil cannot

reach him; my son hath a high destiny.'"[281]

Other versions of the story are more explicit. The angels, it is said,

drew forth Muḥammad's heart, cleansed it, and removed the black

clot--_i.e_., the taint of original sin.[282] If these inventions have

any basis at all beyond the desire to glorify the future Prophet, we

must suppose that they refer to some kind of epileptic fit. At a later

period he was subject to such attacks, which, according to the unanimous

voice of Tradition, often coincided with the revelations sent down from

heaven.

[Sidenote: His meeting with the monk Baḥírá.]

‘Abdulláh had died before the birth of his son, and when, in his sixth

year, Muḥammad lost his mother also, the charge of the orphan was

undertaken first by his grandfather, the aged ‘Abdu ’l-Muṭṭalib, and

then by his uncle, Abú Ṭálib, a poor but honourable man, who nobly

fulfilled the duties of a guardian to the last hour of his life.

Muḥammad's small patrimony was soon spent, and he was reduced to herding

sheep--a despised employment which usually fell to the lot of women or

slaves. In his twelfth year he accompanied Abú Ṭálib on a trading

expedition to Syria, in the course of which he is said to have

encountered a Christian monk called Baḥírá, who discovered the Seal of

Prophecy between the boy's shoulders, and hailed him as the promised

apostle. Such anticipations deserve no credit whatever. The truth is

that until Muḥammad assumed the prophetic rôle he was merely an obscure

Qurayshite; and scarcely anything related of him anterior to that event

can be deemed historical except his marriage to Khadíja, an elderly

widow of considerable fortune, which took place when he was about

twenty-five years of age.

[Sidenote: The Ḥanífs.]

During the next fifteen years of his life Muḥammad was externally a

prosperous citizen, only distinguished from those around him by an

habitual expression of thoughtful melancholy. What was passing in his

mind may be conjectured with some probability from his first utterances

when he came forward as a preacher. It is certain, and he himself has

acknowledged, that he formerly shared the idolatry of his countrymen.

"_Did not He find thee astray and lead thee aright?_" (Kor. xciii, 7).

When and how did the process of conversion begin? These questions cannot

be answered, but it is natural to suppose that the all-important result,

on which Muḥammad's biographers concentrate their attention, was

preceded by a long period of ferment and immaturity. The idea of

monotheism was represented in Arabia by the Jews, who were particularly

numerous in the Ḥijáz, and by several gnostic sects of an ascetic

character--_e.g._, the Ṣábians[283] and the Rakúsians. Furthermore,

"Islamic tradition knows of a number of religious thinkers before

Muḥammad who are described as Ḥanífs,"[284] and of whom the best known

are Waraqa b. Nawfal of Quraysh; Zayd b. ‘Amr b. Nufayl, also of

Quraysh; and Umayya b. Abi ’l-Ṣalt of Thaqíf. They formed no sect, as

Sprenger imagined; and more recent research has demonstrated the

baselessness of the same scholar's theory that there was in Pre-islamic

times a widely-spread religious movement which Muḥammad organised,

directed, and employed for his own ends. His Arabian precursors, if they

may be so called, were merely a few isolated individuals. We are told by

Ibn Isḥáq that Waraqa and Zayd, together with two other Qurayshites,

rejected idolatry and left their homes in order to seek the true

religion of Abraham, but whereas Waraqa is said to have become a

Christian, Zayd remained a pious dissenter unattached either to

Christianity or to Judaism; he abstained from idol-worship, from eating

that which had died of itself, from blood, and from the flesh of animals

offered in sacrifice to idols; he condemned the barbarous custom of

burying female infants alive, and said, "I worship the Lord of

Abraham."[285] As regards Umayya b. Abi ’l-Ṣalt, according to the notice

of him in the _Aghání_, he had inspected and read the Holy Scriptures;

he wore sackcloth as a mark of devotion, held wine to be unlawful, was

inclined to disbelieve in idols, and earnestly sought the true religion.

It is said that he hoped to be sent as a prophet to the Arabs, and

therefore when Muḥammad appeared he envied and bitterly opposed

him.[286] Umayya's verses, some of which have been translated in a

former chapter,[287] are chiefly on religious topics, and show many

points of resemblance with the doctrines set forth in the early Súras of

the Koran. With one exception, all the Ḥanífs whose names are recorded

belonged to the Ḥijáz and the west of the Arabian peninsula. No doubt

Muḥammad, with whom most of them were contemporary, came under their

influence, and he may have received his first stimulus from this

quarter.[288] While they, however, were concerned only about their own

salvation, Muḥammad, starting from the same position, advanced far

beyond it. His greatness lies not so much in the sublime ideas by which

he was animated as in the tremendous force and enthusiasm of his appeal

to the universal conscience of mankind.

[Sidenote: Muḥammad's vision.]

In his fortieth year, it is said, Muḥammad began to dream dreams and see

visions, and desire solitude above all things else. He withdrew to a

cave on Mount Ḥirá, near Mecca, and engaged in religious austerities

(_taḥannuth_). One night in the month of Ramaḍán[289] the Angel[290]

appeared to him and said, "Read!" (_iqra’_). He answered, "I am no

reader" (_má ana bi-qári’in_).[291] Then the Angel seized him with a

strong grasp, saying, "Read!" and, as Muḥammad still refused to obey,

gripped him once more and spoke as follows:--

THE SÚRA OF COAGULATED BLOOD (XCVI).

(1) Read in the name of thy Lord[292] who created,

(2) Who created Man of blood coagulated.

(3) Read! Thy Lord is the most beneficent,

(4) Who taught by the Pen,[293]

(5) Taught that which they knew not unto men.

On hearing these words Muḥammad returned, trembling, to Khadíja and

cried, "Wrap me up! wrap me up!" and remained covered until the terror

passed away from him.[294] Another tradition relating to the same event

makes it clear that the revelation occurred in a dream.[295] "I awoke,"

said the Prophet, "and methought it was written in my heart." If we take

into account the notions prevalent among the Arabs of that time on the

subject of inspiration,[296] it will not appear surprising that Muḥammad

at first believed himself to be possessed, like a poet or soothsayer, by

one of the spirits called collectively _Jinn_. Such was his anguish of

mind that he even meditated suicide, but Khadíja comforted and reassured

him, and finally he gained the unalterable conviction that he was not a

prey to demoniacal influences, but a prophet divinely inspired. For some

time he received no further revelation.[297] Then suddenly, as he

afterwards related, he saw the Angel seated on a throne between earth

and heaven. Awe-stricken, he ran into his house and bade them wrap his

limbs in a warm garment (_dithár_). While he lay thus the following

verses were revealed:--

THE SÚRA OF THE ENWRAPPED (LXXIV).

(1) O thou who enwrapped dost lie!

(2) Arise and prophesy,[298]

(3) And thy Lord magnify,

(4) And thy raiment purify,

(5) And the abomination fly![299]

Muḥammad no longer doubted that he had a divinely ordained mission to

preach in public. His feelings of relief and thankfulness are expressed

in several Súras of this period, _e.g._--

THE SÚRA OF THE MORNING (XCIII).

(1) By the Morning bright

(2) And the softly falling Night,

(3) Thy Lord hath not forsaken thee, neither art thou hateful in

His sight.

(4) Verily, the Beginning is hard unto thee, but the End shall be

light.[300]

(5) Thou shalt be satisfied, the Lord shall thee requite.

(6) Did not He shelter thee when He found thee in orphan's plight?

(7) Did not He find thee astray and lead thee aright?

(8) Did not He find thee poor and make thee rich by His might?

(9) Wherefore, the orphan betray not,

(10) And the beggar turn away not,

(11) And tell of the bounty of thy Lord.

[Sidenote: The first Moslems.]

[Sidenote: Hostility of the Quraysh.]

[Sidenote: Emigration to Abyssinia.]

[Sidenote: Temporary reconciliation with the Quraysh.]

According to his biographers, an interval of three years elapsed between

the sending of Muḥammad and his appearance as a public preacher of the

faith that was in him. Naturally, he would first turn to his own family

and friends, but it is difficult to accept the statement that he made no

proselytes openly during so long a period. The contrary is asserted in

an ancient tradition related by al-Zuhrí († 742 A.D.), where we read

that the Prophet summoned the people to embrace Islam[301] both in

private and public; and that those who responded to his appeal were, for

the most part, young men belonging to the poorer class.[302] He found,

however, some influential adherents. Besides Khadíja, who was the first

to believe, there were his cousin ‘Alí, his adopted son, Zayd b.

Ḥáritha, and, most important of all, Abú Bakr b. Abí Quháfa, a leading

merchant of the Quraysh, universally respected and beloved for his

integrity, wisdom, and kindly disposition. At the outset Muḥammad seems

to have avoided everything calculated to offend the heathens, confining

himself to moral and religious generalities, so that many believed, and

the Meccan aristocrats themselves regarded him with good-humoured

toleration as a harmless oracle-monger. "Look!" they said as he passed

by, "there goes the man of the Banú ‘Abd al-Muṭṭalib who tells of

heaven." But no sooner did he begin to emphasise the Unity of God, to

fulminate against idolatry, and to preach the Resurrection of the dead,

than his followers melted away in face of the bitter antagonism which

these doctrines excited amongst the Quraysh, who saw in the Ka‘ba and

its venerable cult the mainspring of their commercial prosperity, and

were irritated by the Prophet's declaration that their ancestors were

burning in hell-fire. The authority of Abú Ṭálib secured the personal

safety of Muḥammad; of the little band who remained faithful some were

protected by the strong family feeling characteristic of old Arabian

society, but many were poor and friendless; and these, especially the

slaves, whom the levelling ideas of Islam had attracted in large

numbers, were subjected to cruel persecution.[303] Nevertheless Muḥammad

continued to preach. "I will not forsake this cause" (thus he is said to

have answered Abú Ṭálib, who informed him of the threatening attitude of

the Quraysh and begged him not to lay on him a greater burden than he

could bear) "until God shall make it prevail or until I shall perish

therein--not though they should set the sun on my right hand and the

moon on my left!"[304] But progress was slow and painful: the Meccans

stood obstinately aloof, deriding both his prophetic authority and the

Divine chastisement with which he sought to terrify them. Moreover, they

used every kind of pressure short of actual violence in order to seduce

his followers, so that many recanted, and in the fifth year of his

mission he saw himself driven to the necessity of commanding a general

emigration to the Christian kingdom of Abyssinia, where the Moslems

would be received with open arms[305] and would be withdrawn from

temptation.[306] About a hundred men and women went into exile, leaving

their Prophet with a small party of staunch and devoted comrades to

persevere in a struggle that was daily becoming more difficult. In a

moment of weakness Muḥammad resolved to attempt a compromise with his

countrymen. One day, it is said, the chief men of Mecca, assembled in a

group beside the Ka‘ba, discussed as was their wont the affairs of the

city, when Muḥammad appeared and, seating himself by them in a friendly

manner, began to recite in their hearing the 53rd Súra of the Koran.

When he came to the verses (19-20)--

"Do ye see Al-Lát and Al-‘Uzzá, and Manát, the third and last?"

Satan prompted him to add:--

"These are the most exalted Cranes (or Swans),

And verily their intercession is to be hoped for."

The Quraysh were surprised and delighted with this acknowledgment of

their deities; and as Muḥammad wound up the Súra with the closing

words--

"Wherefore bow down before God and serve Him,"

the whole assembly prostrated themselves with one accord on the ground

and worshipped.[307] But scarcely had Muḥammad returned to his house

when he repented of the sin into which he had fallen. He cancelled the

idolatrous verses and revealed in their place those which now stand in

the Koran--

"Shall yours be the male and his the female?[308]

This were then an unjust division!

They are naught but names which ye and your fathers have named."

[Sidenote: Muḥammad's concession to the idolaters.]

We can easily comprehend why Ibn Hishám omits all mention of this

episode from his Biography, and why the fact itself is denied by many

Moslem theologians.[309] The Prophet's friends were scandalised, his

enemies laughed him to scorn. It was probably no sudden lapse, as

tradition represents, but a calculated endeavour to come to terms with

the Quraysh; and so far from being immediately annulled, the

reconciliation seems to have lasted long enough for the news of it to

reach the emigrants in Abyssinia and induce some of them to return to

Mecca. While putting the best face on the matter, Muḥammad felt keenly

both his own disgrace and the public discredit. It speaks well for his

sincerity that, as soon as he perceived any compromise with idolatry to

be impossible--to be, in fact, a surrender of the great principle by

which he was inspired--he frankly confessed his error and delusion.

Henceforth he "wages mortal strife with images in every shape"--there is

no god but Allah.

[Sidenote: Death of Khadíja and Abú Ṭálib.]

The further course of events which culminated in Muḥammad's Flight to

Medína may be sketched in a few words. Persecution now waxed hotter than

ever, as the Prophet, rising from his temporary vacillation like a giant

refreshed, threw his whole force into the denunciation of idolatry. The

conversion of ‘Umar b. al-Khaṭṭáb, the future Caliph, a man of 'blood

and iron,' gave the signal for open revolt. "The Moslems no longer

concealed their worship within their own dwellings, but with conscious

strength and defiant attitude assembled in companies about the Ka‘ba,

performed their rites of prayer and compassed the Holy House. Their

courage rose. Dread and uneasiness seized the Quraysh." The latter

retaliated by cutting off all relations with the Háshimites, who were

pledged to defend their kinsman, whether they recognised him as a

prophet or no. This ban or boycott secluded them in an outlying quarter

of the city, where for more than two years they endured the utmost

privations, but it only cemented their loyalty to Muḥammad, and

ultimately dissensions among the Quraysh themselves caused it to be

removed. Shortly afterwards the Prophet suffered a double

bereavement--the death of his wife, Khadíja, was followed by that of the

noble Abú Ṭálib, who, though he never accepted Islam, stood firm to the

last in defence of his brother's son. Left alone to protect himself,

Muḥammad realised that he must take some decisive step. The situation

was critical. Events had shown that he had nothing to hope and

everything to fear from the Meccan aristocracy. He had warned them again

and again of the wrath to come, yet they gave no heed. He was now

convinced that they would not and could not believe, since God in His

inscrutable wisdom had predestined them to eternal damnation.

Consequently he resolved on a bold and, according to Arab ways of

thinking, abominable expedient, namely, to abandon his fellow-tribesmen

and seek aid from strangers.[310] Having vainly appealed to the

inhabitants of Ṭá’if, he turned to Medína, where, among a population

largely composed of Jews, the revolutionary ideas of Islam might more

readily take root and flourish than in the Holy City of Arabian

heathendom. This time he was not disappointed. A strong party in Medína

hailed him as the true Prophet, eagerly embraced his creed, and swore to

defend him at all hazards. In the spring of the year 622 A.D. the

Moslems of Mecca quietly left their homes and journeyed northward. A few

months later (September, 622) Muḥammad himself, eluding the vigilance of

the Quraysh, entered Medína in triumph amidst the crowds and

acclamations due to a conqueror.

[Sidenote: The _Hijra_ or Migration to Medina (622 A.D.).]

This is the celebrated Migration or Hegira (properly _Hijra_) which

marks the end of the Barbaric Age (_al-Jáhiliyya_) and the beginning of

the Muḥammadan Era. It also marks a new epoch in the Prophet's history;

but before attempting to indicate the nature of the change it will be

convenient, in order that we may form a juster conception of his

character, to give some account of his early teaching and preaching as

set forth in that portion of the Koran which was revealed at Mecca.

[Sidenote: The Koran.]

[Sidenote: Was Muḥammad poet?]

Koran (Qur’án) is derived from the Arabic root _qara’a_, 'to read,' and

means 'reading aloud' or 'chanting.' This term may be applied either to

a single Revelation or to several recited together or, in its usual

acceptation, to the whole body of Revelations which are thought by

Moslems to be, actually and literally, the Word of God; so that in

quoting from the Koran they say _qála ’lláhu_, _i.e._, 'God said.' Each

Revelation forms a separate _Súra_ (chapter)[311] composed of verses of

varying length which have no metre but are generally rhymed. Thus, as

regards its external features, the style of the Koran is modelled upon

the _Saj‘_,[312] or rhymed prose, of the pagan soothsayers, but with

such freedom that it may fairly be described as original. Since it was

not in Muḥammad's power to create a form that should be absolutely new,

his choice lay between _Saj‘_ and poetry, the only forms of elevated

style then known to the Arabs. He himself declared that he was no

poet,[313] and this is true in the sense that he may have lacked the

technical accomplishment of verse-making. It must, however, be borne in

mind that his disavowal does not refer primarily to the poetic art, but

rather to the person and character of the poets themselves. He, the

divinely inspired Prophet, could have nothing to do with men who owed

their inspiration to demons and gloried in the ideals of paganism which

he was striving to overthrow. "_And the poets do those follow who go

astray! Dost thou not see that they wander distraught in every vale? and

that they say that which they do not?_" (Kor. xxvi, 224-226). Muḥammad

was not of these; although he was not so unlike them as he pretended.

His kinship with the pagan _Shá‘ir_ is clearly shown, for example, in

the 113th and 114th Súras, which are charms against magic and

_diablerie_, as well as in the solemn imprecation calling down

destruction upon the head of his uncle, ‘Abdu ’l-‘Uzzá, nicknamed Abú

Lahab (Father of Flame).

THE SÚRA OF ABÚ LAHAB (CXI).

(1) Perish the hands of Abú Lahab and perish he!

(2) His wealth shall not avail him nor all he hath gotten in fee.

(3) Burned in blazing fire he shall be!

(4) And his wife, the faggot-bearer, also she.

(5) Upon her neck a cord of fibres of the palm-tree.

If, then, we must allow that Muḥammad's contemporaries had some

justification for bestowing upon him the title of poet against which he

protested so vehemently, still less can his plea be accepted by the

modern critic, whose verdict will be that the Koran is not poetical as a

whole; that it contains many pages of rhetoric and much undeniable

prose; but that, although Muḥammad needed "heaven-sent moments for this

skill," in the early Meccan Súras frequently, and fitfully elsewhere,

his genius proclaims itself by grand lyrical outbursts which could never

have been the work of a mere rhetorician.

[Sidenote: The Meccan Súras.]

"Muḥammad's single aim in the Meccan Súras," says Nöldeke, "is to

convert the people, by means of persuasion, from their false gods to

the One God. To whatever point the discourse is directed, this

always remains the ground-thought; but instead of seeking to

convince the reason of his hearers by logical proofs, he employs the

arts of rhetoric to work upon their minds through the imagination.

Thus he glorifies God, describes His working in Nature and History,

and ridicules on the other hand the impotence of the idols.

Especially important are the descriptions of the everlasting bliss

of the pious and the torments of the wicked: these, particularly the

latter, must be regarded as one of the mightiest factors in the

propagation of Islam, through the impression which they make on the

imagination of simple men who have not been hardened, from their

youth up, by similar theological ideas. The Prophet often attacks

his heathen adversaries personally and threatens them with eternal

punishment; but while he is living among heathens alone, he seldom

assails the Jews who stand much nearer to him, and the Christians

scarcely ever."[314]

The preposterous arrangement of the Koran, to which I have already

adverted, is mainly responsible for the opinion almost unanimously held

by European readers that it is obscure, tiresome, uninteresting; a

farrago of long-winded narratives and prosaic exhortations, quite

unworthy to be named in the same breath with the Prophetical Books of

the Old Testament. One may, indeed, peruse the greater part of the

volume, beginning with the first chapter, and find but a few passages of

genuine enthusiasm to relieve the prevailing dulness. It is in the short

Súras placed at the end of the Koran that we must look for evidence of

Muḥammad's prophetic gift. These are the earliest of all; in these the

flame of inspiration burns purely and its natural force is not abated.

The following versions, like those which have preceded, imitate the

original form as closely, I think, as is possible in English. They

cannot, of course, do more than faintly suggest the striking effect of

the sonorous Arabic when read aloud. The Koran was designed for oral

recitation, and it must be _heard_ in order to be justly appraised.

THE SÚRA OF THE SEVERING (LXXXII).

(1) When the Sky shall be severèd,

(2) And when the Stars shall be shiverèd,

(3) And when the Seas to mingle shall be sufferèd,

(4) And when the Graves shall be uncoverèd--

(5) A soul shall know that which it hath deferred or deliverèd.[315]

(6) O Man, what beguiled thee against thy gracious Master to rebel,

(7) Who created thee and fashioned thee right and thy frame did fairly

build?

(8) He composed thee in whatever form He willed.

(9) Nay, but ye disbelieve in the Ordeal![316]

(10) Verily over you are Recorders honourable,

(11) Your deeds inscribing without fail:[317]

(12) What ye do they know well.

(13) Surely the pious in delight shall dwell,

(14) And surely the wicked shall be in Hell,

(15) Burning there on the Day of Ordeal;

(16) And evermore Hell-fire they shall feel!

(17) What shall make thee to understand what is the Day of Ordeal?

(18) Again, what shall make thee to understand what is the Day

of Ordeal?--

(19) A Day when one soul shall not obtain anything for another soul,

but the command on that Day shall be with God alone.

THE SÚRA OF THE SIGNS (LXXXV).

(1) By the Heaven in which Signs are set,

(2) By the Day that is promisèd,

(3) By the Witness and the Witnessèd:--

(4) Cursèd be the Fellows of the Pit, they that spread

(5) The fire with fuel fed,

(6) When they sate by its head

(7) And saw how their contrivance against the Believers sped;[318]

(8) And they punished them not save that they believed on God,

the Almighty, the Glorified,

(9) To whom is the Kingdom of Heaven and Earth, and He

seeth every thing beside.

(10) Verily, for those who afflict believing men and women and

repent not, the torment of Gehenna and the torment of

burning is prepared.

(11) Verily, for those who believe and work righteousness are

Gardens beneath which rivers flow: this is the great

Reward.

(12) Stern is the vengeance of thy Lord.

(13) He createth the living and reviveth the dead:

(14) He doth pardon and kindly entreat:

(15) The majestic Throne is His seat:

(16) That he willeth He doeth indeed.

(17) Hath not word come to thee of the multitude

(18) Of Pharaoh, and of Thamúd?[319]

(19) Nay, the infidels cease not from falsehood,

(20) But God encompasseth them about.

(21) Surely, it is a Sublime Koran that ye read,

(22) On a Table inviolate.[320]

THE SÚRA OF THE SMITING (CI).

(1) The Smiting! What is the Smiting?

(2) And how shalt thou be made to understand what is the Smiting?

(3) The Day when Men shall be as flies scatterèd,

(4) And the Mountains shall be as shreds of wool tatterèd.

(5) One whose Scales are heavy, a pleasing life he shall spend,

(6) But one whose Scales are light, to the Abyss he shall descend.

(7) What that is, how shalt thou be made to comprehend?

(8) Scorching Fire without end!

THE SÚRA OF THE UNBELIEVERS (CIX).

(1) Say: 'O Unbelievers,

(2) I worship not that which ye worship,

(3) And ye worship not that which I worship.

(4) Neither will I worship that which ye worship,

(5) Nor will ye worship that which I worship.

(6) Ye have your religion and I have my religion.'

[Sidenote: The teaching of Muḥammad at Mecca.]

To summarise the cardinal doctrines preached by Muḥammad during the

Meccan period:--

1. There is no god but God.

2. Muḥammad is the Apostle of God, and the Koran is the Word of God

revealed to His Apostle.

3. The dead shall be raised to life at the Last Judgment, when every one

shall be judged by his actions in the present life.

4. The pious shall enter Paradise and the wicked shall go down to Hell.

Taking these doctrines separately, let us consider a little more in

detail how each of them is stated and by what arguments it is enforced.

The time had not yet come for drawing the sword: Muḥammad repeats again

and again that he is only a warner (_nadhír_) invested with no authority

to compel where he cannot persuade.

[Sidenote: The Unity of God.]

1. The Meccans acknowledged the supreme position of Allah, but in

ordinary circumstances neglected him in favour of their idols, so that,

as Muḥammad complains, "_When danger befalls you on the sea, the gods

whom ye invoke are forgotten except Him alone; yet when He brought you

safe to land, ye turned your backs on Him, for Man is ungrateful._"[321]

They were strongly attached to the cult of the Ka‘ba, not only by

self-interest, but also by the more respectable motives of piety towards

their ancestors and pride in their traditions. Muḥammad himself regarded

Allah as Lord of the Ka‘ba, and called upon the Quraysh to worship him

as such (Kor. cvi, 3). When they refused to do so on the ground that

they were afraid lest the Arabs should rise against them and drive them

forth from the land, he assured them that Allah was the author of all

their prosperity (Kor. xxviii, 57). His main argument, however, is drawn

from the weakness of the idols, which cannot create even a fly,

contrasted with the wondrous manifestations of Divine power and

providence in the creation of the heavens and the earth and all living

things.[322]

It was probably towards the close of the Meccan period that Muḥammad

summarised his Unitarian ideas in the following emphatic formula:--

THE SÚRA OF PURIFICATION (CXII).[323]

(1) Say: 'God is One;

(2) God who liveth on;

(3) Without father and without son;

(4) And like to Him there is none!'

[Sidenote: Muḥammad, the Apostle of God.]

2. We have seen that when Muḥammad first appeared as a prophet he was

thought by all except a very few to be _majnún_, _i.e._, possessed by a

_jinní_, or genie, if I may use a word which will send the reader back

to his _Arabian Nights_. The heathen Arabs regarded such

persons--soothsayers, diviners, and poets--with a certain respect; and

if Muḥammad's 'madness' had taken a normal course, his claim to

inspiration would have passed unchallenged. What moved the Quraysh to

oppose him was not disbelief in his inspiration--it mattered little to

them whether he was under the spell of Allah or one of the _Jinn_--but

the fact that he preached doctrines which wounded their sentiments,

threatened their institutions, and subverted the most cherished

traditions of old Arabian life. But in order successfully to resist the

propaganda for which he alleged a Divine warrant, they were obliged to

meet him on his own ground and to maintain that he was no prophet at

all, no Apostle of Allah, as he asserted, but "an insolent liar," "a

schooled madman," "an infatuated poet," and so forth; and that his

Koran, which he gave out to be the Word of Allah, was merely "old folks'

tales" (_asáṭíru ’l-awwalín_), or the invention of a poet or a sorcerer.

"Is not he," they cried, "a man like ourselves, who wishes to domineer

over us? Let him show us a miracle, that we may believe." Muḥammad could

only reiterate his former assertions and warn the infidels that a

terrible punishment was in store for them either in this world or the

next. Time after time he compares himself to the ancient prophets--Noah,

Abraham, Moses, and their successors--who are represented as employing

exactly the same arguments and receiving the same answers as Muḥammad;

and bids his people hearken to him lest they utterly perish like the

ungodly before them. The truth of the Koran is proved, he says, by the

Pentateuch and the Gospel, all being Revelations of the One God, and

therefore identical in substance. He is no mercenary soothsayer, he

seeks no personal advantage: his mission is solely to preach. The demand

for a miracle he could not satisfy except by pointing to his visions of

the Angel and especially to the Koran itself, every verse of which was a

distinct sign or miracle (_áyat_).[324] If he has forged it, why are his

adversaries unable to produce anything similar? "_Say: 'If men and

genies united to bring the like of this Koran, they could not bring the

like although they should back each other up'_" (Kor. xvii, 90).

[Sidenote: Resurrection and Retribution.]

3. Such notions of a future life as were current in Pre-islamic Arabia

never rose beyond vague and barbarous superstition, _e.g._, the fancy

that the dead man's tomb was haunted by his spirit in the shape of a

screeching owl.[325] No wonder, then, that the ideas of Resurrection and

Retribution, which are enforced by threats and arguments on almost every

page of the Koran, appeared to the Meccan idolaters absurdly ridiculous

and incredible. "_Does Ibn Kabsha promise us that we shall live?_" said

one of their poets. "_How can there be life for the ṣadá and the háma?

Dost thou omit to ward me from death, and wilt thou revive me when my

bones are rotten?_"[326] God provided His Apostle with a ready answer to

these gibes: "_Say: 'He shall revive them who produced them at first,

for He knoweth every creation_" (Kor. xxxvi, 79). This topic is

eloquently illustrated, but Muḥammad's hearers were probably less

impressed by the creative power of God as exhibited in Nature and in Man

than by the awful examples, to which reference has been made, of His

destructive power as manifested in History. To Muḥammad himself, at the

outset of his mission, it seemed an appalling certainty that he must one

day stand before God and render an account; the overmastering sense of

his own responsibility goaded him to preach in the hope of saving his

countrymen, and supplied him, weak and timorous as he was, with strength

to endure calumny and persecution. As Nöldeke has remarked, the grandest

Súras of the whole Koran are those in which Muḥammad describes how all

Nature trembles and quakes at the approach of the Last Judgment. "It is

as though one actually saw the earth heaving, the mountains crumbling to

dust, and the stars hurled hither and thither in wild confusion."[327]

Súras lxxxii and ci, which have been translated above, are specimens of

the true prophetic style.[328]

[Sidenote: The Muḥammadan Paradise.]

4. There is nothing spiritual in Muḥammad's pictures of Heaven and Hell.

His Paradise is simply a glorified pleasure-garden, where the pious

repose in cool shades, quaffing spicy wine and diverting themselves with

the Houris (_Ḥúr_), lovely dark-eyed damsels like pearls hidden in their

shells.[329] This was admirably calculated to allure his hearers by

reminding them of one of their chief enjoyments--the gay drinking

parties which occasionally broke the monotony of Arabian life, and which

are often described in Pre-islamic poetry; indeed, it is highly probable

that Muḥammad drew a good deal of his Paradise from this source. The

gross and sensual character of the Muḥammadan Afterworld is commonly

thought to betray a particular weakness of the Prophet or is charged to

the Arabs in general, but as Professor Bevan has pointed out, "the real

explanation seems to be that at first the idea of a future retribution

was absolutely new both to Muḥammad himself and to the public which he

addressed. Paradise and Hell had no traditional associations, and the

Arabic language furnished no religious terminology for the expression of

such ideas; if they were to be made comprehensible at all, it could only

be done by means of precise descriptions, of imagery borrowed from

earthly affairs."[330]

[Sidenote: Prayer.]

Muḥammad was no mere visionary. Ritual observances, vigils, and other

austerities entered largely into his religion, endowing it with the

formal and ascetic character which it retains to the present day. Prayer

was introduced soon after the first Revelations: in one of the oldest

(Súra lxxxvii, 14-15) we read, "_Prosperous is he who purifies himself

(or gives alms) and repeats the name of his Lord and prays._" Although

the five daily prayers obligatory upon every true believer are nowhere

mentioned in the Koran, the opening chapter (_Súratu ’l-Fátiḥa_), which

answers to our Lord's Prayer, is constantly recited on these occasions,

and is seldom omitted from any act of public or private devotion. Since

the _Fátiḥa_ probably belongs to the latest Meccan period, it may find a

place here.

THE OPENING SÚRA (I).

(1) In the name of God, the Merciful, who forgiveth aye!

(2) Praise to God, the Lord of all that be,

(3) The Merciful, who forgiveth aye,

(4) The King of Judgment Day!

(5) Thee we worship and for Thine aid we pray.

(6) Lead us in the right way,

(7) The way of those to whom thou hast been gracious, against

whom thou hast not waxed wroth, and who go not

astray!

[Sidenote: The Night journey and Ascension of Muḥammad.]

About the same time, shortly before the Migration, Muḥammad dreamed that

he was transported from the Ka‘ba to the Temple at Jerusalem, and thence

up to the seventh heaven. The former part of the vision is indicated in

the Koran (xvii, 1): "_Glory to him who took His servant a journey by

night from the Sacred Mosque to the Farthest Mosque, the precinct

whereof we have blessed, to show him of our signs!_" Tradition has

wondrously embellished the _Mi‘ráj_, by which name the Ascension of the

Prophet is generally known throughout the East; while in Persia and

Turkey it has long been a favourite theme for the mystic and the poet.

According to the popular belief, which is also held by the majority of

Moslem divines, Muḥammad was transported in the body to his journey's

end, but he himself never countenanced this literal interpretation,

though it seems to have been current in Mecca, and we are told that it

caused some of his incredulous followers to abandon their faith.

[Sidenote: Muḥammad at Medína.]

Possessed and inspired by the highest idea of which man is capable,

fearlessly preaching the truth revealed to him, leading almost alone

what long seemed to be a forlorn hope against the impregnable stronghold

of superstition, yet facing these tremendous odds with a calm resolution

which yielded nothing to ridicule or danger, but defied his enemies to

do their worst--Muḥammad in the early part of his career presents a

spectacle of grandeur which cannot fail to win our sympathy and

admiration. At Medína, whither we must now return, he appears in a less

favourable light: the days of pure religious enthusiasm have passed away

for ever, and the Prophet is overshadowed by the Statesman. The

Migration was undoubtedly essential to the establishment of Islam. It

was necessary that Muḥammad should cut himself off from his own people

in order that he might found a community in which not blood but religion

formed the sole bond that was recognised. This task he

accomplished with consummate sagacity and skill, though some of the

methods which he employed can only be excused by his conviction that

whatever he did was done in the name of Allah. As the supreme head of

the Moslem theocracy both in spiritual and temporal matters--for Islam

allows no distinction between Church and State--he exercised absolute

authority, and he did not hesitate to justify by Divine mandate acts of

which the heathen Arabs, cruel and treacherous as they were, might have

been ashamed to be guilty. We need not inquire how much was due to

belief in his inspiration and how much to deliberate policy. If it

revolts us to see God Almighty introduced in the rôle of special

pleader, we ought to remember that Muḥammad, being what he was, could

scarcely have considered the question from that point of view.

[Sidenote: Medína predisposed to welcome Muḥammad as Legislator and

Prophet.]

The conditions prevailing at Medína were singularly adapted to his

design. Ever since the famous battle of Bu‘áth (about 615 A.D.), in

which the Banú Aws, with the help of their Jewish allies, the Banú

Qurayẓa and the Banú Naḍír, inflicted a crushing defeat upon the Banú

Khazraj, the city had been divided into two hostile camps; and if peace

had hitherto been preserved, it was only because both factions were too

exhausted to renew the struggle. Wearied and distracted by earthly

calamities, men's minds willingly admit the consolations of religion. We

find examples of this tendency at Medína even before the Migration. Abú

‘Ámir, whose ascetic life gained for him the title of 'The Monk'

(_al-Ráhib_), is numbered among the _Ḥanífs_.[331] He fought in the

ranks of the Quraysh at Uḥud, and finally went to Syria, where he died

an outlaw. Another Pre-islamic monotheist of Medína, Abú Qays b. Abí

Anas, is said to have turned Moslem in his old age.[332]

"The inhabitants of Medína had no material interest in idol-worship

and no sanctuary to guard. Through uninterrupted contact with the

Jews of the city and neighbourhood, as also with the Christian

tribes settled in the extreme north of Arabia on the confines of the

Byzantine Empire, they had learned, as it were instinctively, to

despise their inherited belief in idols and to respect the far

nobler and purer faith in a single God; and lastly, they had become

accustomed to the idea of a Divine revelation by means of a special

scripture of supernatural origin, like the Pentateuch and the

Gospel. From a religious standpoint paganism in Medína offered no

resistance to Islam: as a faith, it was dead before it was attacked;

none defended it, none mourned its disappearance. The pagan

opposition to Muḥammad's work as a reformer was entirely

political, and proceeded from those who wished to preserve the

anarchy of the old heathen life, and who disliked the dictatorial

rule of Muḥammad."[333]

[Sidenote: Parties in Medína.]

There were in Medína four principal parties, consisting of those who

either warmly supported or actively opposed the Prophet, or who adopted

a relatively neutral attitude, viz., the Emigrants (_Muhájirún_), the

Helpers (_Anṣár_), the Hypocrites (_Munáfiqún_), and the Jews (_Yahúd_).

[Sidenote: The Emigrants.]

The Emigrants were those Moslems who left their homes at Mecca and

accompanied the Prophet in his Migration (_Hijra_)--whence their name,

_Muhájirún_--to Medína in the year 622. Inasmuch as they had lost

everything except the hope of victory and vengeance, he could count upon

their fanatical devotion to himself.

[Sidenote: The Helpers.]

The Helpers were those inhabitants of Medína who had accepted Islam and

pledged themselves to protect Muḥammad in case of attack. Together with

the Emigrants they constituted a formidable and ever-increasing body of

true believers, the first champions of the Church militant.

[Sidenote: The Hypocrites.]

"Many citizens of Medína, however, were not so well disposed towards

Muḥammad, and neither acknowledged him as a Prophet nor would

submit to him as their Ruler; but since they durst not come forward

against him openly on account of the multitude of his enthusiastic

adherents, they met him with a passive resistance which more than

once thwarted his plans, their influence was so great that he, on

his part, did not venture to take decisive measures against them,

and sometimes even found it necessary to give way."[334]

These are the Hypocrites whom Muḥammad describes in the following

verses of the Koran:--

THE SÚRA OF THE HEIFER (II).

(7) And there are those among men who say, 'We believe in God

and in the Last Day'; but they do not believe.

(8) They would deceive God and those who do believe; but they

deceive only themselves and they do not perceive.

(9) In their hearts is a sickness, and God has made them still more

sick, and for them is grievous woe because they lied.[335]

Their leader, ‘Abdulláh b. Ubayy, an able man but of weak character, was

no match for Muḥammad, whom he and his partisans only irritated, without

ever becoming really dangerous.

[Sidenote: The Jews.]

The Jews, on the other hand, gave the Prophet serious trouble. At first

he cherished high hopes that they would accept the new Revelation which

he brought to them, and which he maintained to be the original Word of

God as it was formerly revealed to Abraham and Moses; but when the Jews,

perceiving the absurdity of this idea, plied him with all sorts of

questions and made merry over his ignorance, Muḥammad, keenly alive to

the damaging effect of the criticism to which he had exposed himself,

turned upon his tormentors, and roundly accused them of having falsified

and corrupted their Holy Books. Henceforth he pursued them with a deadly

hatred against which their political disunion rendered them helpless. A

few sought refuge in Islam; the rest were either slaughtered or driven

into exile.

It is impossible to detail here the successive steps by which Muḥammad

in the course of a few years overcame all opposition and established the

supremacy of Islam from one end of Arabia to the other. I shall notice

the outstanding events very briefly in order to make room for matters

which are more nearly connected with the subject of this History.

[Sidenote: Beginnings of the Moslem State.]

Muḥammad's first care was to reconcile the desperate factions within the

city and to introduce law and order among the heterogeneous elements

which have been described. "He drew up in writing a charter between the

Emigrants and the Helpers, in which charter he embodied a covenant with

the Jews, confirming them in the exercise of their religion and in the

possession of their properties, imposing upon them certain obligations,

and granting to them certain rights."[336] This remarkable document is

extant in Ibn Hishám's _Biography of Muḥammad_, pp. 341-344. Its

contents have been analysed in masterly fashion by Wellhausen,[337] who

observes with justice that it was no solemn covenant, accepted and duly

ratified by representatives of the parties concerned, but merely a

decree of Muḥammad based upon conditions already existing which had

developed since his arrival in Medína. At the same time no one can study

it without being impressed by the political genius of its author.

Ostensibly a cautious and tactful reform, it was in reality a

revolution. Muḥammad durst not strike openly at the independence of the

tribes, but he destroyed it, in effect, by shifting the centre of power

from the tribe to the community; and although the community included

Jews and pagans as well as Moslems, he fully recognised, what his

opponents failed to foresee, that the Moslems were the active, and must

soon be the predominant, partners in the newly founded State.

[Sidenote: Battle of Badr, January, 624 A.D.]

[Sidenote: Battle of Uḥud, 625 A.D.]

[Sidenote: Submission of Mecca, 630 A.D.]

All was now ripe for the inevitable struggle with the Quraysh, and God

revealed to His Apostle several verses of the Koran in which the

Faithful are commanded to wage a Holy War against them: "_Permission is

given to those who fight because they have been wronged,--and verily God

to help them has the might,--who have been driven forth from their homes

undeservedly, only for that they said, 'Our Lord is God'_" (xxii,

40-41). "_Kill them wherever ye find them, and drive them out from

whence they drive you out_" (ii, 187). "_Fight them that there be no

sedition and that the religion may be God's_" (ii, 189). In January, 624

A.D., the Moslems, some three hundred strong, won a glorious victory at

Badr over a greatly superior force which had marched out from Mecca to

relieve a rich caravan that Muḥammad threatened to cut off. The Quraysh

fought bravely, but were borne down by the irresistible onset of men who

had learned discipline in the mosque and looked upon death as a sure

passport to Paradise. Of the Moslems only fourteen fell; the Quraysh

lost forty-nine killed and about the same number of prisoners. But the

importance of Muḥammad's success cannot be measured by the material

damage which he inflicted. Considering the momentous issues involved, we

must allow that Badr, like Marathon, is one of the greatest and most

memorable battles in all history. Here, at last, was the miracle which

the Prophet's enemies demanded of him: "_Ye have had a sign in the two

parties who met; one party fighting in the way of God, the other

misbelieving; these saw twice the same number as themselves to the

eyesight, for God aids with His help those whom He pleases. Verily in

that is a lesson for those who have perception_" (Kor. iii, 11). And

again, "_Ye slew them not, but God slew them_" (Kor. viii, 17). The

victory of Badr turned all eyes upon Muḥammad. However little the Arabs

cared for his religion, they could not but respect the man who had

humbled the lords of Mecca. He was now a power in the land--"Muḥammad,

King of the Ḥijáz."[338] In Medína his cause flourished mightily. The

zealots were confirmed in their faith, the waverers convinced, the

disaffected overawed. He sustained a serious, though temporary, check in

the following year at Uḥud, where a Moslem army was routed by the

Quraysh under Abú Sufyán, but the victors were satisfied with having

taken vengeance for Badr and made no attempt to follow up their

advantage; while Muḥammad, never resting on his laurels, never losing

sight of the goal, proceeded with remorseless calculation to crush his

adversaries one after the other, until in January, 630 A.D., the Meccans

themselves, seeing the futility of further resistance, opened their

gates to the Prophet and acknowledged the omnipotence of Allah. The

submission of the Holy City left Muḥammad without a rival in Arabia. His

work was almost done. Deputations from the Bedouin tribes poured into

Medína, offering allegiance to the conqueror of the Quraysh, and

reluctantly subscribing to a religion in which they saw nothing so

agreeable as the prospect of plundering its enemies.

[Sidenote: Death of Muḥammad, 632 A.D.]

Muḥammad died, after a brief illness, on the 8th of June, 632 A.D. He

was succeeded as head of the Moslem community by his old friend and

ever-loyal supporter, Abú Bakr, who thus became the first _Khalífa_, or

Caliph. It only remains to take up our survey of the Koran, which we

have carried down to the close of the Meccan period, and to indicate the

character and contents of the Revelation during the subsequent decade.

[Sidenote: The Medína Súras.]

The Medína Súras faithfully reflect the marvellous change in Muḥammad's

fortunes, which began with his flight from Mecca. He was now recognised

as the Prophet and Apostle of God, but this recognition made him an

earthly potentate and turned his religious activity into secular

channels. One who united in himself the parts of prince, legislator,

politician, diplomatist, and general may be excused if he sometimes

neglected the Divine injunction to arise and preach, or at any rate

interpreted it in a sense very different from that which he formerly

attached to it. The Revelations of this time deal, to a large extent,

with matters of legal, social, and political interest; they promulgate

religious ordinances--_e.g._, fasting, alms-giving, and

pilgrimage--expound the laws of marriage and divorce, and comment upon

the news of the day; often they serve as bulletins or manifestoes in

which Muḥammad justifies what he has done, urges the Moslems to fight

and rebukes the laggards, moralises on a victory or defeat, proclaims a

truce, and says, in short, whatever the occasion seems to require.

Instead of the Meccan idolaters, his opponents in Medína--the Jews and

Hypocrites--have become the great rocks of offence; the Jews especially

are denounced in long passages as a stiff-necked generation who never

hearkened to their own prophets of old. However valuable historically,

the Medína Súras do not attract the literary reader. In their flat and

tedious style they resemble those of the later Meccan period. Now and

again the ashes burst into flame, though such moments of splendour are

increasingly rare, as in the famous 'Throne-verse' (_Áyatu ’l-Kursí_):--

[Sidenote: The 'Throne-verse.']

"God, there is no god but He, the living, the self-subsistent.

Slumber takes Him not, nor sleep. His is what is in the heavens and

what is in the earth. Who is it that intercedes with Him save by His

permission? He knows what is before them and what behind them, and

they comprehend not aught of His knowledge but of what He pleases.

His throne extends over the heavens and the earth, and it tires Him

not to guard them both, for He is high and grand."[339]