I
Though Mohammed was now actually the spiritual and nominally the
temporal ruler of Medina, his position nevertheless was very
precarious. The Jews, while completely deficient in martial valor,
were openly contemptuous of his prophetical jurisdiction, and the
Khazrajite leader, Abdallah ibn Obei, showed overt defiance against
his assumption of civil power. Presumably because he feared and
respected Abdallah’s influence, the Prophet took pains to treat
him with every courtesy; but the compliment was not returned. One
day, when Mohammed chanced to observe his rival seated at ease in
the cool shade of his house, he alighted from his steed, graciously
saluted the sitter, recited some of the most affecting passages in
the Koran, and finally invited him to adopt the faith. Abdallah
listened composedly until the long harangue was ended; then he
spoke. “Nothing could be better than this discourse of thine, if it
were true. Now, therefore, do thou sit at home in thine own house,
and whosoever cometh to thee preach thus unto him, and he that
cometh not unto thee refrain from troubling him with that which
he dislikes.” He also casually mentioned the fact that he objected
to the smell of the beast that Mohammed bestrode; so the Prophet
went on his way, sorely stricken in spirit.
In other ways, too, he was equally unfortunate. His fabulous rise
from the lowly state of an insignificant trader to the pinnacle of
fame appears to have induced him to overestimate his powers; at any
rate, soon after his arrival at Medina, he betrayed his ignorance
of the simplest facts of Arabian agriculture by forbidding the
artificial fecundation of palm trees, with the result that they
became almost barren. But when his egregious error was pointed
out, he manifested a wisdom rare in prophets by candidly admitting
that he was in the wrong. “I am only mortal,” he confessed. “If
I give you an order in the domain of your religion then receive
it; but if I give you an order from my own opinion then am I but
mortal.” In the near famine that had resulted from his bungling
interference, there was poetic justice in the fact that he, as well
as the rest, could eat only one date per day; yet he gladly shared
in the stringent privations that all were forced to endure. While
his own face was pinched with hunger, he divided with the most
needy Moslems the gifts of food which various people had sent him;
on one occasion he was glad to accept a Jew’s offer to partake of
a meal of rancid fat and barley bread; and for months, during the
dead of winter, he went without any fire on his hearth.
It was obvious that such a state of affairs could not be permitted
to continue. No matter how strong the already sorely tried faith
of his partisans was, it would not forever withstand the shocks of
rampant famine and naked, shivering misery; then too, and even more
vital, was the consideration that new converts could never be won
over to such a ragged and unkempt faith--Islam would not grow. And
other even more subtle ideas were fermenting in Mohammed’s ever
restive mind. He, the one and only Prophet of the Most High Allah,
was a starving outcast because of the pernicious activities of the
overbearing, wealthy and rather cowardly Koreish, whose teeming
caravans pursued their unmolested way northward from Mecca, between
Medina and the Red Sea, to Syria. But the destitute refugees were
pledged to advance the banners of Islam not merely in defensive,
but, if Allah so willed, in offensive war; and should any of them
see fit to remind him that, in earlier days, he had instructed them
not to retaliate against their enemies, he could--and did--allay
their squeamishness with a revelation. Furthermore, his henchmen
had already been subjected, by chance or design, to a strenuous
discipline that had inured them to endure such hardships as a career
of pillage and guerrilla warfare would entail. Rigid religious fasts
had accustomed them to withstand hunger and thirst; at the daily
public _salat_, or prayer, they had been drilled to stand in rows,
to perform what amounted to tough gymnastic exercises, and to expect
celestial condemnation unless they scrupulously obeyed the minutest
requirements of these incessant manœuvers. The successful plundering
of opulent Koreishite caravans--which, under the circumstances, might
reasonably be expected--would accomplish four excellent results: it
would put a summary end to the ubiquitous suffering at Medina; it
would provide a more than adequate outlet for the explosive zeal
of his backers; it would conclusively demonstrate the prowess of
Islam, thereby winning new members to the fold; and it would enable
Mohammed to exult over the salutary discomfiture of his despicable
foes.
How clearly defined these or other considerations may have been in
the mind of the outstanding Oriental of the seventh century, it
would be presumptuous for a twentieth century Occidental to say;
the fact remains, however, that such were the results attained.
Brahminism, Buddhism and Confucianism waxed slowly great through
renunciation, inertia and mystical contemplation; but Jehovah and
Allah were made of sterner stuff. It seems probable that, despite
the peaceful creed and practice of its founder, Christianity would
never have become a serious rival of other world-faiths had it not
been for the implacable swords of Constantine and Charlemagne;
but Islam was fortunate from the beginning in that its inventor
entertained no silly scruples about blood-letting. The Crusades, the
French Revolution, and Cromwellian Puritanism were attended by an
amount of sadism that may well make one pause before too severely
condemning the blood-mania and sex-obsession that mark every stage
of Islam’s triumphant progress.
Thus it happened that, from December, 622, until October, 623, the
Prophet sent six separate expeditions against the Meccan caravans.
The first three were entirely unsuccessful, notwithstanding the fact
that Mohammed presented the leader of each one with a white banner
mounted on a staff; but the fourth, led by the Prophet himself, was
marked by a momentous incident. Though he failed to capture his
prey, he made some sort of offensive and defensive alliance with the
idolatrous tribe of Banu Damrah; and, apparently lest he might be
rightly criticized for making friends with unbelievers, he justified
his action in the only acceptable way--by a revelation. “It may be
that Allah will bring about friendship between you and those whom
you hold to be your enemies.... Allah does not forbid you respecting
those who have not made war against you on account of (your)
religion, and have not driven you forth from your homes.... Allah
only forbids you respecting those who made war against you on account
of (your) religion, and drove you forth from your homes....” It may
be surmised that the Prophet, himself an ex-camel-driver familiar
with Bedouin ways, was moved to speak thus by two considerations:
desert tribes that subsisted principally by plunder would be quick
to appreciate the desirability of linking themselves with a faith
that sanctified theft here and promised Paradise hereafter; besides,
a successful assault on Koreish merchandise could hardly be made
without the acquiescence or assistance of the tribes through whose
territory that merchandise passed.
The fifth expedition was fruitless, but the sixth brought about
alliances with several seashore clans; and a seventh one led not
only to the first actual bloodshed, but to an even more striking
innovation. Two days before the end of the sacred month of Rejeb,
Mohammed sent eight men forth and gave their leader sealed orders
which were not to be opened until after a two days’ march. By a
mere coincidence or by a sly design of the Prophet, the document
was thus read, according to instructions, on the last day of Rejeb.
After commanding the leader not to force “any of thy followers
against his inclination,” it ordered him to lie in wait for a Meccan
caravan. Faced by the dilemma of fighting when strife was taboo,
or of delaying until it would be too late to overtake the Koreish
travelers, the Moslems summarily solved the problem by shooting an
arrow through one of the Meccans and returning to Medina with the
booty. Then, to their utter dismay, Mohammed rose up, “his face red
with anger,” and declared, “I never commanded thee to fight in the
Sacred month.” Yet it is curiously interesting to note that this
heavenly message soon appeared: “They will ask thee concerning the
Sacred months, whether they may war therein. Say: Warring therein
is grievous; but to obstruct the way of God and to deny Him, to
hinder men from the Holy temple, and to expel His people thence,
that is more grievous with God.”
Thus, through blind caprice or far-seeing, statesmanlike duplicity,
the way was opened for bloodshed on a grand and wholly unrestricted
scale. Nine centuries before Machiavelli, and eleven before Napoleon,
the Prophet of Islam formulated this dictum: “War after all is but
a game of deception.” Deception of several kinds, that is to say:
one’s foes should be openly cursed and belittled while privately
they were respected and even feared; one’s followers should be
assured that martial ardor was the best of all possible virtues and
that death on the field of honor was a matchless boon. “The sword,”
Mohammed declared, “is the key of Heaven and Hell; a drop of blood
shed in the cause of God, a night spent in arms, is of more avail
than two months of fasting or prayer; whosoever falls in battle,
his sins are forgiven; at the day of judgment his wounds shall be
resplendent as vermilion, and odiferous as musk; and the loss of
his limbs shall be supplied by the wings of angels and cherubim.”
The Koran of this period teems with frightful maledictions against
the Koreish, and transcendent pictures of the Paradise that awaited
the Moslem elect. Those warriors who could repeat the greatest
number of its verses were, we are told, rewarded with the pick of
the spoil after a victorious contest, and those who fell martyrs to
Islam were buried with the most honorable rites. It was only too
easy, one suspects, for devout Moslem warriors to memorize such
passages as these: “War is ordained for you, even if it be irksome
unto you. Perchance ye may dislike that which is good for you,
and love that which is evil for you. But God knoweth, and ye know
not.... God loveth not the Transgressors. Kill them wheresoever ye
find them; and expel them from whence they have expelled you....
Those of you that contribute before the victory, and fight, shall
not be placed on the same level, but shall have a rank superior
over those who contribute after it and fight. Who is he that lendeth
unto the Lord a goodly loan? He shall double the same, and he shall
have honorable recompense.... Those that have gone into exile for
the cause of God, and then have been slain, or have died, We shall
certainly nourish them with an excellent provision, for God is the
best Provider.... He shall lead them into the Paradise whereof
He hath told them.... For ever therein--a fair abode and resting
place!”