THE MATERIAL AND OTHER SIDES OF THE PROPHET’S CHARACTER
In refuting those sceptics who have doubted the truth and sincerity of
Islam, Carlyle condemns scepticism (rather too hastily it seems to me)
as an indication of spiritual paralysis. Most unquestionably he was
right in denouncing the former as an idiotic and godless theory. But
scepticism itself in a general sense is not necessarily an evil. On the
contrary, it is a natural tendency that arises out of the instinct of
curiosity. Knowledge is not an inert and passive principle, but an
active and dynamic force. Buckle in his history speaks of scepticism as
stimulating curiosity. But he has put the cart before the horse. It is
curiosity that excites scepticism. Curiosity is an animal instinct--the
basis of all science. It exists in the lower animal creation--scepticism
only in the upper human section. It is a higher or further development,
a tendency that is certainly strengthened, if not acquired through
education.
According to Lecky, “The first stage to toleration in England was due to
the spirit of scepticism encroaching upon the doctrine of exclusive
salvation”; and “the extinction of the spirit of intolerance both in
Catholic and Protestant countries--due to the spirit of rationalism--was
the noblest of all the conquests of civilization.” But as rationalism
itself is chiefly the consequence of scepticism and the result of
inquiry, it is obvious that in a deeply fundamental sense, the world is
very considerably indebted to science or the spirit of scepticism.
Indeed all knowledge has arisen from experience, and the desire to
search into the root of things--to know what is what. Without curiosity
and scepticism, human thought would have long since stagnated and the
world remained sunk in ignorance. As Ghazali says, “No knowledge without
assurance deserves the name of knowledge.” Seeing is not always
devouring. Curiosity is not necessarily gluttony, or “scepticism, that
curse of the intellect,” as Victor Hugo calls it. Gluttony is unnatural,
unwholesome, and bestial. It is not so much overdoing, as a flagrant
abuse and outrage of a natural appetite. It is a kicking against the
pricks--a flying in the face of Providence. But curiosity as an instinct
direct from Nature is healthy, therefore the use of it as also wholesome
stands in need of stimulus and encouragement.
So Tennyson said of Shelley:--
“There lives more faith in honest doubt,
Believe me, than in half the creeds.”
In this righteous sense Mohammed was curious. As one of her own
selection, Nature had specially endowed him with curiosity. He was one
of her human, sensitive plants. As an observer, all his senses were
developed and on the alert. He not only saw, but felt every vibration
that thrilled, as it were, the very soul of the first great mother. In
every flitting cloud, as in every fugitive thought, he was conscious of
an unseen Power. A look-out man rather than a prophet, it was thus he
groped or rather felt his way until he felt God. “I feel that there is a
God,” said La Bruyère, “and I do not feel that there is none: that is
enough for me; the reasoning of the world is useless to me: I conclude
that God exists.” It was in much the same vein of self-argument that
Mohammed communed to himself. Having felt God, God became for him a
necessity: more so even, an essential--an absolutism which banished all
else from his mind. The thought that there was no God did not occur to
him. But the thought that other gods could exist in the same universe
with the one omnipotence was to him as monstrous as it was unthinkable.
Besides Him there was no room for any other. The very thought in his
estimation perished from inanition and sheer inability of conception!
The trinity of Christianity was to him as impossible and unacceptable
as the antediluvian or later polytheism of his own countrymen.
All active minds are sceptical. Carlyle himself--although he appears to
have been unconscious of the fact--was himself a sceptic. But it was
peculiarly characteristic of the antagonistic dualism of his nature on
the one hand to hurl innuendoes, anathemas (and every kind of mental
brickbat that he could lay hold of) at what he called scepticism or
unbelief. On the other hand, to hold up belief as absolutely essential
to human existence. But like all theoretical crotchets, he carried his
philosophical speculations too far. In other words, he sometimes
overreached himself. According to his particular dogma, in his opinion,
the life of man cannot subsist on doubt or denial, it subsists only on
belief. But this is altogether beside the mark. Scepticism does not
necessarily imply doubt or denial. Belief itself cannot exist without
it. It is out of the ashes of scepticism that the immortal Phœnix of
belief arises. It is out of the doubt and denial of accepted doctrines
that all creeds (including Christianity and Islam) have grown into
being. The doubt engendered by scepticism is after all only an
investigation or leading into, an analysis of the nature of dogmas,
doctrines or creeds. It is an investigation that may or may not have a
result. It is but a search for or groping after the truth, as the
consequence of moral, intellectual or spiritual dissatisfaction. It is
also the desire to know, to find out the pros and cons of all the sides
to a question. The spirit or element of doubt is the necessary, the
essential precursor of improvement and progress. Hence the immense
importance and significance of Scepticism. It is the very sum and
substance of all human knowledge. As the acorn is to the oak, scepticism
is to knowledge--the seed from which has sprung up all we know, and ever
shall know. The ever fluent channel through which all the great
intellectual giants and reformers of the world have poured out the
glowing flash-lights of their intellect into the normal darkness of
human minds. It is the moral effluvium out of which our modern
civilization has constructed itself. Without it, the dense gloom and
black obscurity of ignorance would have reigned supreme. Confused,
chaotic, and enigmatic as the world now is--even in the full glare of
its sunlight--without it (if it were possible to imagine such a state)
the world would have been an enigma, a chaos and confusion worse
confounded. For scepticism is, as it were, the sun in all its glory, as
compared to the black oblivion of eternal night. If neither Luther nor
Mohammed had been sceptics, there would have been no Reformation and no
Islam. They did not take everything for granted. They were not satisfied
with things as they were. They looked into the heart of them and found
much room for improvement. They examined what they could, rejected that
which was spiritually objectionable to them, but made use of what was
most appropriate to their respective situations. It was only those
features that best suited the exigencies of the case that they were
prompt to lay hold of.
Yet Mohammed was not of vigorous intellectuality, nor in any sense an
original thinker. The constant repetition of formulas and reiteration of
the same ideas that occur throughout the Koran show this. It is
extremely probable that his mentality was at times overshadowed either
by neurasthenic tendencies, or a predisposition to melancholia, and this
was more than likely heightened by a life of excessive mental
concentration combined with asceticism.
But sincere as he was, Mohammed would not have been a true Arabian, had
he not been diplomatic. Thus the commencement of the fourteenth surah is
a clever but obvious device on his part; a meeting of his enemies with
their own weapons, a flinging back to them of their own words and
objections to the truth in their own teeth. It is clear too that here,
for the time being, he has resolved on a change of tactics and of front.
To prove to them that he is as of old the man to be trusted, he
endeavours to disarm their incredulity by his own outspokenness and
candour. As the sequel showed, he clearly demonstrates his own
perspicacity and knowledge of human nature. He saw that by arguing with
his countrymen, by always opposing their doubts with sophistry and
argument, would be of little avail--useless, in fact. Such a course
would but have encouraged and stimulated their opposition, on the ground
that their beliefs, as worth refuting, were also based on truth or at
least on strong evidence. Besides, Mohammed was painfully conscious of
his own disability and helplessness to convince them by the performance
of anything purporting to be miraculous. That on occasions he displayed
artfulness and guile--duplicity, in fact--is not to be denied. The
invention, e.g., of his night journey from Mecca to heaven viâ
Jerusalem, was one of them. When he gave out that Gabriel had revealed
to him the conspiracy that had been formed against him, which through
ordinary means he had discovered, was another of these pious frauds. But
after all, what are these trifles compared with those that in their
myriads have been perpetrated by the great Church of Christendom? What
are they as compared to a long life of strenuous sincerity, great
nobility and earnest effort in the cause of humanity? It is impossible
to lose sight of the fact that in working for God, he was all the time
raising his countrymen from a lower to a higher level. Besides, the
necessity of dissimulation, which is one of the heaviest taxes on a
king, and the prerogative of a priest, is one of those idiosyncrasies
that human flesh being heir to, even a prophet cannot at times escape
from. We are reminded of the phrase: “Qui scit dissimulare, scit
regnare”--He is a ruler who can conceal his thoughts--attributed to the
Emperor Sigismund by that cultured and ambitious but false and subtle
Pontiff Pius II, known as Æneas Sylvius (Pius Æneas): also the identical
answer that Louis XI is said to have made to those who urged him to give
his son Charles a better education, in order that the boy might in his
day become a good king.
It was not only that Mohammed’s enemies were sceptical of his powers and
his mission, but they mistrusted his intentions. This, indeed, to a
sincere and earnest man like himself, was a bitter pill; a pill he found
it hard to swallow. For he was conscious of his own sincerity, and as
time went on, an increasing following gave him greater confidence in the
reality of his mission. Indeed in proportion as his self-confidence
developed, his conviction in the power and unity of God became an ever
increasing quantity. This increasing consciousness of God’s power and
his own sincerity had the gradual effect of making him bolder and more
aggressive, so that this outspokenness was a direct outcome of it, until
at last Mohammed felt that it was his duty not merely to announce
“Islam”--“_the true Faith_,” but to enforce its acceptance on the
people. This, of course, as we know, was after his flight to Medina.
True his own people, the Koreish, had driven him out with scorn and
violence, had cast contumely and dishonour on him, by rejecting the
word, while strangers had hearkened unto him and accepted it. It is
equally true that the sustained vindictiveness shown by the Koreish was
sufficient in itself to excite the spirit of retaliation, even in a man
of Mohammed’s patient and tenacious character. But suggestive as this
may be, it is quite certain that he acted on conviction in assuming the
offensive. It is obvious, too, that in doing so, he felt that he was
acting under divine compulsion. In any case, we must allow that “a man
is really of weight in the balance of Fate, only when he has the right
on his own account to cause men to be slain.” In Mohammed’s case,
however, if conviction counts for anything, his right was a divine
right. According to Dumas: “In human nature there are antipathies to be
overcome--_sympathies which may be forced_.” (The italics are mine.)
“Iron is not the loadstone; but by rubbing it with a loadstone we make
it, in its turn, attract iron.” This may be, but it is not in reality
so. It is but a mere figure of speech that the great novelist makes use
of, and which he puts into the mouth of René, the poisoner, in support
of some theory or argument. It is, of course, possible that antipathies
may be overcome by sympathy. This, however, depends entirely on the
power of the one and the weakness of the other. But sympathy cannot be
forced. To endeavour to force sympathy is to attempt the unnatural. The
most that can be expected from such a cause is dissimulation. This
certainly was Mohammed’s experience. Although ultimately he and his
successors forced the word of God on these his inveterate enemies, he
never succeeded in forcing his sympathies upon them. Death and Time
alone accomplished what his own personality failed to do. Through the
victory he gained by them, he now lives enshrined in the sanctified halo
of a sympathy that, emanating from every Moslem heart, forms with his
own the great and throbbing soul of Islam.
But Mohammed was not only spiritual. He, like every human being, had a
material side to his character. Not only was he a preacher and a
prophet; not only was he a lawgiver--a law and a light unto his people
to this very day; but as one who himself rigidly practised self-denial
and economy and condemned extravagance, who possessed the organizing
ability to administer the estate of others, and who could command
preferably in peace, but if necessary in war, he was a statesman and an
economist. Unquestionably too he looked ahead--he made provision for the
future. His whole apostolic life was one long and arduous preparation
for coming events. As an instance of this, the ordering of the yearly
pilgrimage to Mecca was as much a political as a religious ordinance. By
this measure of policy--this master stroke of psychologic insight into
human eventualities, Mohammed showed his natural genius. For without a
doubt he aimed at preserving to Arabia the point and focus of a
religious centre, that would make for national consolidation and unity,
and serve as the sacred réduit and rallying ground for the world of
Islam. So too he showed his capacity for system and organization in
legalizing the fifth part of all booty and property confiscated to be
paid into the public treasury. In the same way he insisted on the giving
of Zakat or alms for charitable purposes, apart from those contributions
he received from his followers for maintenance. In making these
ordinances appear as divine injunctions, Mohammed showed no more
insincerity or inconsistence than he did in claiming the whole Koran as
a series of revelations. The political and economic factors were as much
a radical part of his entire design, as the religious. The one could not
exist without the other. Statesman as he was, he recognized that
religious unity could only be firmly established through political
co-operation, and that to secure national stability the sinews of war
were essential.
It is all through quite obvious that he had the trading instinct of his
people. In any case the training he received at the hands and in the
employ of his uncle Abu Talib, as well as the subsequent management of
Khadija’s business, had imbued him very powerfully with business
principles and practical ideas. Abu Talib, like his father and
grandfather before him, carried on a considerable trade with Syria and
Yemen. He carried to Damascus, to Basra and other places in Syria, the
dates of Hijaz and Hijr, and the perfumes of Yemen, bringing back with
him in return the products of the Byzantine Empire. Mohammed, as is
known, accompanied him, and without doubt laid the foundation of an
economic experience, that subsequently proved valuable.
Commerce has always been the greatest of civilizing factors. According
to Buckle: “Among the accessories of modern civilization there is none
of greater moment than Trade.” So too Hallam says: “Under a second
class of events that contributed to destroy the spirit of the Feudal
system, we may reckon the abolition of villenage, the increase of
commerce, and consequent opulence of merchants and artisans, and
especially the institution of free cities and boroughs. This is one of
the most important and interesting steps in the progress of society
during the Middle Ages, and deserves particular consideration.” But this
is all the more important as showing that trade was in reality a more
powerful factor for civilization than Christianity, which after several
centuries of hold on the people of Europe, had done little more than
inflame them with a zeal and a zest for fighting. It is significant also
that while Rome rose to her greatest eminence under the Ancestral
worship of her founders, when she became Christian, Christianity did not
prevent her from declining and falling into pieces. But it is equally
significant that while the opulence conferred by commerce on Rome,
eventually brought reaction and ruin upon her people, the effect it had
upon the barbarians who overthrew the Eternal City, was sufficiently
stimulating to encourage them to invade a degenerate empire. For the
desire of wealth and plunder was but the first awakening of the spirit
of commerce. To be sure the crusades gave a great stimulus to trade.
But there was more of the militant spirit than Christianity about them.
Besides, although commercial prosperity often accompanies war, reaction
is certain to supervene. Obviously the essential importance of trade was
a truth that the Merchant-Prophet soon recognized. Intuitively, and with
the keenness of perception that marked him, he naturally utilized every
lesson that it taught him and every advantage that it gave him. Nor has
he been the only theologian who saw its utility in a religious light.
The Jesuits long afterwards recognized the agency of commerce in
promoting and diffusing religious belief, and became great merchants as
well as great missionaries. So too it was through commerce, as Draper
points out, “that the Papacy first learned to turn to art. The ensuing
development of Europe” (in the Renaissance) “was really based on the
commerce of _upper_ Italy, and not on the Church. The statesmen of
Florence were the inventors of the balance of power.”
Quoting from Syed Ameer Ali’s _Spirit of Islam_, Fihr, surnamed Koreish,
a descendant of Maad--who flourished in the third century--was the
ancestor of the tribe that gave to Arabia her prophet and legislator.
This fact, trifling as it may appear, is, however, remarkable, if not
significant. For this word “Koreish” is derived from “Karash,” to
trade; and it appears that Fihr and his descendants were always devoted
to commerce. From this it is safe to assume that trading was an inherent
instinct in Mohammed.
This apart, to him personally Islam was a something more than a mere
creed or belief. It was God’s own religion sealed and delivered to him
by God. Not to deliver it to his people as commanded, not to carry it
through--by persuasion first of all, by fire and sword if man’s
obstinacy and rejection of it made it necessary--would mean that he had
failed in his duty to the Most High. The sense and spirit of duty was
stronger in Mohammed than in Nelson. In him it was not simply an active
and vital principle. It was an impelling force. So inseparable from God,
that to him it appeared as God Himself. But with him God always came
first. His duty to his country was subordinate to his duty to his Maker.
His duty to Him, therefore, was his duty to his country. So in surah xi.
he says: “O my people, do ye work according to your condition; I will
surely work according to my duty,” i.e. according to God. In numerous
passages he points out that God was absolutely averse to profusion and
extravagance, equally so to meanness. True liberality in his opinion
consisted in the happy mean between the two extremes. “And waste not
thy substance profusely; for the profuse are brethren of the devils: and
the devil was ungrateful unto his Lord” (surah xvii.). Again in the
sixth, “But be not profuse, for God loveth not those who are too
profuse”; and in the following the economic instinct shows itself most
significantly: “O true believers, consume not your wealth among
yourselves in vanity; unless there be merchandizing among you by mutual
consent.” Once more Mohammed demonstrates his great profundity and
insight into the character, the customs and traditions of his
countrymen. All Oriental and African nations from time immemorial have
been notably extravagant, especially in regard to marriage ceremonials
and funeral rites. Even to this day among the Hindus and most African
tribes, it is a code of honour, a sacred injunction of their religion,
to spend profusely on marriage and burial feasts. Indeed this is
frequently done to the impoverishment, and, in the latter case, even to
the ruination of whole families or households. The Arabs, it appears,
were no exception to this. At the same time they were a curious blend of
meanness and extravagance. To Mohammed, rigid economist as he was, and
inspired to the core by the duty that had been intrusted to him, this
prodigality was a great sin. Not only did his countrymen squander away
their substance in folly and luxury, but they were particularly guilty
of extravagance in killing camels, and distributing them by lot merely
out of vanity and ostentation. Worse even than this, they were given to
the destruction of their female children. Against this evil Mohammed
sternly set his face. This in itself shows his great moral superiority
over his countrymen. It shows also the possession of a higher and more
refined yet practical intelligence, that was able to grasp the economic
possibilities which were bound to ensue from the preservation of female
children. Essentially an Arab patriarch at heart (which he in some
measure proved by his marriages), Mohammed, however, was still more
essentially a Humanist. With the moral greatness of a good man, and the
mental perception of genius, he felt and recognized that it was against
all the laws of God to destroy the fecundity of and the productive in
nature. Thus it was that he placed the divine tabu on the abuse and
destruction of all that was beneficial to humanity, but especially on
men, animals and the produce of the earth.