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THE DAYS OF MOHAMMED.
by
ANNA MAY WILSON.
David C. Cook Publishing Company,
Elgin, Ill., and 36 Washington St., Chicago.
Copyright, 1897, by David C. Cook Publishing Company.
PREFACE.
In "The Days of Mohammed," one aim of the author has been to bring out
the fact that it is possible to begin the heaven-life on earth. It is
hoped that a few helpful thoughts as to the means of attaining this life
may be exemplified in the career of the various characters depicted.
An attempt has been made, by constant reference to the best works on
Mohammed and Arabia, to render the historical basis strictly correct.
Especial indebtedness is acknowledged to the writings of Irving, Burton,
and the Rev. Geo. Bush; also to the travels of Burckhardt, Joseph Pitts,
Ludovico Bartema and Giovanni Finati, each of whom undertook a
pilgrimage to the cities of Medina and Mecca; also to the excellent
synopsis of the life and times of Mohammed as given by Prof. Max Müller
in the introduction to Palmer's translation of the Koran.
As the tiny pebble cast into the water sends its circling wavelets to
the distant shore, so this little book is cast forth upon the world, in
the hope that it may exert some influence in bringing hope and comfort
to some weary heart, and that, in helping someone to attain a clearer
conception of Divine love and companionship, it may, if in never so
insignificant a degree, perhaps help on to that time when all shall
"Trust the Hand of Light will lead the people,
Till the thunders pass, the spectres vanish,
And the Light is Victor, and the darkness
Dawns into the Jubilee of the Ages."
PRECEDING EVENTS--SUMMARY.
Yusuf, a Guebre priest, a man of intensely religious temperament, and
one of those whose duty it is to keep alive the sacred fire of the
Persian temple, has long sought for a more heart-satisfying religion
than that afforded to him by the doctrines of his country. Though a man
of kindliest disposition, yet so benighted he is that, led on by a deep
study of the mysteries of Magian and Sabæan rites, he has been induced
to offer, in human sacrifice, Imri, the little granddaughter of Ama, an
aged Persian woman, and daughter of an Arab, Uzza, who, though married
to a Persian, lives at Oman with his wife, and knows nothing of the
sacrifice until it is over.
The death of the child, though beneath his own hand, immediately strikes
horror to the heart of the priest. His whole soul revolts against the
inhumanity of the act, which has not brought to him or Ama the blessing
he had hoped for, and he rebels against the religion which has, though
ever so rarely, permitted the exercise of such an atrocious rite. He
becomes more than ever dissatisfied with the vagueness of his belief. He
cannot find the rest which he desires; the Zendavesta of Zoroaster can
no longer satisfy his heart's longing; his country-people are sunk in
idolatry, and, instead of worshiping the God of whom the priests have a
vague conception, persist in bowing down before the symbols themselves,
discerning naught but the objects--the sun, moon, stars, fire--light,
all in all.
Yusuf, indeed, has a clearer idea of God; but he worships him from afar
off, and looks upon him as a God of wrath and judgment rather than as
the Father of love and mercy. In his new spiritual agitation he
conceives the idea of a closer relation with the Lord of the universe;
his whole soul calls out for a vivid realization of God, and he casts
about for light in his trouble.
From a passing stranger, traveling in Persia--a descendant of those
Sabæan Persians who at an early age obtained a footing in Arabia,
and whose influence was, for a time, so strongly marked through
the whole district known as the Nejd, and even down into Yemen,
Arabia-Felix,--Yusuf has learned of a new and strange religion held by
the people of the great peninsula. His whole being calls for relief from
the doubts which harass him. He is rich and he decides to proceed at
once towards the west and to search the world, if necessary,--not, as
did Sir Galahad and the knights of King Arthur's Table, in quest of the
Holy Grail, but in search of the scarcely less effulgent radiance of the
beams of Truth and Love.
THE DAYS OF MOHAMMED.
CHAPTER I.
YUSUF BEGINS HIS SEARCH FOR TRUTH.
"O when shall all my wanderings end,
And all my steps to Thee-ward tend!"
"Peace, oh peace! that thy light wings might now rest upon me! Truth,
that thou mightest shine in upon my soul, making all light where now is
darkness! Ye spirits that dwell in yon bright orbs far above me, ye that
alone are privileged to bow before the Great Creator of the universe, ye
that alone may address yourselves to the Great Omnipotent Spirit with
impunity, intercede for me, I beseech you! Bow before that Great
Sovereign of all wisdom and light, whom we worship through these vague
symbols of fire and brightness; plead with him before whom I dare not
come, in my behalf. Beseech of him, if he will condescend to notice his
most humble priest, that he may lead him into light effulgent, into all
truth, and that he may clear from his soul these vapors of doubt which
now press upon him in blackest gloom and rack his soul with torment. If
I sin in doubting thus, beseech him to forgive me and to lead me to a
conception of him as he is. Ye that are his ministers, from your starry
spheres guide me! Whether through darkness, thorns, or stony ways, guide
me; I shall not falter if I may see the light at last! Oh, grant me
peace!"
Thus prayed Yusuf, the Magian priest. He paused. No sound passed from
his lips, but he still stood with upraised arms, gazing into the intense
depths of the Persian sky, purple, and flecked with golden stars, the
"forget-me-nots of the angels."
His priestly vestments were dazzlingly white, and upon his shoulders
were fixed two snowy wings that swept downward to the ground. His black
beard descended far over his breast, and from the eyes above shone forth
the glow of a soul yearning towards the infinite unknown, whose all is
God.
Behind him, near the altar of the rounded tower,--round in the
similitude of the orbs of light, the sun, moon, and stars,--danced the
sacred fire, whose flames were said to have burned unceasingly for
nearly one thousand years. The fiery wreaths leaped upwards toward the
same purple sky, as if pointing with long, red fingers, in mockery of
the priest's devotion; and the ruddy glare, falling upon him as he
stood so still there, enveloped him with a halo of light. It gleamed
upon his head, upon his uplifted hands, upon the curves of the wings on
his shoulders, silhouetting him against the darkness, and lighting his
white habiliments until, all motionless as he was, he seemed like a
marble statue dazzlingly radiant in the light of one crimson gleam from
a sinking sun.
And so he stood, heeding it not, till the moon rose, soft and full; the
mountain-tops shone with a rim of silver, the valleys far below the
temple looked deeper in the shade, and the fire burned low.
Rapt and more rapt grew the face of the priest. Surely the struggle of
his soul was being answered, and in his nearness to Nature, he was
getting a faint, far-off gleam of the true nature of Nature's God. His
glance fell to the changing landscape below; his arms were extended as
if in benediction; and his lips moved in a low and passionate farewell
to his native land. Then he turned.
The fire burned low on the altar.
"Sacred symbol, whose beams have no power to warm my chilled heart, I
bid you a long farewell! They will say that Yusuf is faithless, a false
priest. They will mayhap follow him to slay him. And they will bow again
to yon image, and defile thine altars again with infants' blood, not
discerning the true God. Yet he must be approachable. I feel it! I know
it! O Great Spirit, reveal Thyself unto Yusuf! Reveal Thyself unto
Persia! Great Spirit, guide me!"
For the first time, Yusuf thus addressed a prayer direct to the Deity,
and he did so in fear and trembling.
A faint gleam shone feebly amid the ashes of the now blackening altar.
It flared up for an instant, then fell, and the sacred fire of the
Guebre temple was dead.
"The embers die!" cried the priest. "Yea, mockery of the Divine, die in
thine ashes!"
He waited no longer, but strode with swift step down the mountain, and
into the shade of the valley. Reaching, at last, a cave in the side of a
great rock, he entered, and stripped himself of his priestly garments.
Then, drawing from a recess the garb of an ordinary traveler, he dressed
himself quickly, rolled his white robes into a ball, and plunged farther
into the cave. In the darkness the rush of falling water warned him that
an abyss was near. Dropping on his knees, he crept carefully forward
until his hand rested on the jagged edge of a ledge of rock. Beside him
the water fell into a yawning gulf. Darkness darker than blackest night
was about him, and, in its cover, he cast the robes into the abyss
below, then retraced his way, and plunged once more into the moonlight,
a Persian traveler wearing the customary loose trousers, a kufiyah on
his head, and bearing a long staff in his hand.