YUSUF STUDIES THE SCRIPTURES.--CONNECTING EVENTS.
"Surely an humble husbandman that serveth God is better than a
proud philosopher who, neglecting himself, is occupied in
studying the course of the heavens."--_Thomas á Kempis._
For many weeks, even months, after this, Yusuf's life, to one who knew
not the workings of his mind, seemed colorless, and filled with a
monotonous round of never-varying occupation. Yet in those few weeks he
lived more than in all his life before. Life is not made up of either
years or actions--the development of thought and character is the
important thing; and in this period of apparent waiting, Yusuf grew and
developed in the light of his new understanding.
He read and thought and studied, and yet found time for paying some
attention to outer affairs. In Persia he had amassed a considerable
fortune, which he had conveyed to Mecca in the form of jewels sewn into
his belt and into the seams of his garments, hence he was abundantly
able to pay his way, and to expend something in charity; and between his
and Amzi's generosity the family of Nathan lacked nothing.
Yusuf obtained possession of parts of the Scriptures, written on
parchment, and spent every morning in their perusal, ever finding this
period a precious feast full of comforting assurances, and
hope-inspiring promises. He never forgot to pray for Amzi, to whom he
often read and expounded passages of Scripture, without being able to
notice any apparent effect of his teaching.
It troubled him much that Amzi lent such a willing ear to Mohammed, and
to the few fanatics among the Hanifs who had now professed their belief
in this self-proclaimed prophet of Allah. It seemed marvelous that a man
of Amzi's wisdom and learning should be so carried away by such a flimsy
doctrine as that which Mohammed now began to proclaim. Amzi appeared to
have fallen under the spell which Mohammed seemed to cast over many of
those with whom he came in contact; and, though he acknowledged no
belief in the so-called prophet, neither did he profess disbelief in
him.
Yusuf's happiest hours were those spent in the little Jewish Christian
church, a poor, uncomfortable building, where an earnest handful of
Jews, who were nevertheless firm believers in the divinity of Christ,
met, often in secret, always in fear of the derisive Arabs, for prayer
and study of the Gospel. Among these, the wife of Nathan was never
absent.
Yusuf sought untiringly to solve the mystery of the gold cup.
Circumstantial evidence was certainly against Nathan. Awad, a rich
merchant of Mecca, had placed the cup near a window in his house, and
had forgotten to remove it ere retiring for the night. A short time
before dawn he had heard a noise and risen to see what it was. He had
gone outside just in time to see a figure passing hurriedly across a
small field near his house. Even then he had not thought of the cup. But
in the morning it was missed, and tracks were followed from the window
as far as the ruined house to which Nathan's family had gone in their
poverty. The house was searched, and the cup was found hidden in a heap
of rubbish in an unused apartment.
Nathan had just returned with little save the clothes he wore; it was
well known that his wife and children had been verging on starvation,
and the public, ever ready to judge, formed its own conclusion, and
turned with Nemesis eye upon the poor Jew.
No clue whatever remained, except a small carnelian, which Yusuf found
afterwards upon the floor, and which he took possession of at once. For
hours he would wander about, hoping to find some trace of the robber,
who, he firmly believed, had fancied himself followed by Awad, and had
hurriedly secreted the cup, trusting to return for it later, and to make
his escape in the meantime.
All this, however, did not help poor Nathan, who, chained and fettered,
languished in a close, poorly-ventilated cell, with little hope of
deliverance. Yusuf knew the rancor of the Meccans against the Jews, and
somewhat feared the result, yet he did not give up hope.
"We are praying for him," Nathan's wife would say. "Nathan and Yusuf are
praying too, and we know that whatever happens must be best, since God
has willed it so for us."
Little Manasseh chafed more than anyone at the long suspense. One day he
said:
"Mother, my name means blackness, sorrow, or something like that, does
it not? Why did you call me Manasseh? Was it to be an omen of my life?"
"Forbid that it should!" the mother exclaimed, passing her hand lovingly
through his waving hair. "It must have been because of your curls, black
as a raven's wing. Sorrow will not be always. Joy may come soon; but if
not, 'at eventide it shall be light.'"
"Does that mean in heaven?" he asked.
"He has prepared for us a mansion in the heavens, an house not made with
hands. 'There shall be no night there,' and 'sorrow and sighing shall
flee away,'" said the mother with a far-away look in her eyes.
"But it seems so long to wait, mother," said the boy impatiently.
"Yet heaven is not far away, Manasseh," she returned, quickly. "Heaven
is wherever God is. And have we not him with us always? 'In all thy ways
acknowledge him, and he shall direct thy paths.' Never forget that,
Manasseh."
"Well, I wish we were a little happier now," he would say; and then, to
divert the boy's attention from his present troubles, his mother would
tell him about her happy home in Palestine, where she and her little
sister, Lois, had watched their sheep on the green hillsides, and woven
chains of flowers to put about the neck of their pet lamb; of how they
grew up, and Lois married the Bedouin Musa, and had gone far away.
Thus far, Yusuf knew nothing of this connection of Nathan's family with
his Bedouin friends. It was yet to prove another link in the chain which
was binding him so closely to this godly family. His many occupations,
and the feeling which impelled him at every spare moment to seek for
some clue which would lead to Nathan's liberation, left him little time
for conversation with them for the present, except to see that their
wants were supplied.
Then, too, he was troubled about Amzi, and somewhat anxious about the
result of Mohammed's proclamations, which were now beginning to be
noised abroad. From holding meetings in caves and private houses, the
"prophet" had begun to preach on the streets, and from the top of the
little eminence Safa, near the foot of Abu Kubays.
Many of the people of Mecca held him up to ridicule, and treated his
declarations with derisive contempt. Among his strongest opponents were
his own kindred, the Koreish, of the line of Haschem and of the rival
line of Abd Schems. The head of the latter tribe, Abu Sofian, Mohammed's
uncle, was especially bitter. He was a formidable foe, as he lived in
the highlands, his castles being built on precipitous rocks, and manned
by a set of wild and savage Arabs.
Yet Mohammed went on, neither daunted by fear nor discouraged by
sarcasm. The number of his followers steadily increased; his first
converts, Ali, his cousin, and Zeid, his faithful servant, being quickly
joined by many others.
Mohammed now boldly proclaimed the message delivered to him in the cave
of Hira the Koran. He declared that the law of Moses had given way to
the Gospel, and that the Gospel was now to give way to the Koran; that
the Savior was a great prophet, but was not divine; and that he,
Mohammed, was to be the last and greatest of all the prophets.
Such assertions were usually received with shouts of derision; and yet,
when Mohammed eloquently upheld fairness and sincerity in all public and
private dealings, and urged the giving of alms, and the living of a pure
and humble life, there were those who, like Amzi, felt that there was
something worthy of admiration in the new prophet's religion; and his
very firmness and sincerity, even when spat upon, and covered with mud
thrown upon him as he prayed in the Caaba, won for him friends.
The opposition of his uncles, Abu Lahab and Abu Sofian, was, however,
carried on with the greatest rancor; and at last a decree was issued by
Abu Sofian forbidding the tribe of the Koreish from having any
intercourse whatever with Mohammed. This decree was written on
parchment, and hung up in the Caaba, and Mohammed was ultimately forced
to flee from the city. He and his disciples went for refuge to the
ravine of Abu Taleb, at some distance from Mecca. Here they would have
suffered great want, had it not been for the kindness of Amzi, who
managed to send them food in secret.
But the prophet's zeal never flagged. When the Ramadhan again came
round, and it was safe to venture from his temporary retreat, he came
boldly into the city, preached again from the hill Safa, and proclaimed
his new revelations, praying for the people, and ending every prayer
with the declaration now universal throughout the Moslem world,--
"God! There is no God but he, the ever-living! He sleepeth not, neither
doth he slumber! To him belong the heavens and the earth, and all that
they contain. Who shall intercede with him unless by his permission? His
sway extendeth over the heavens and the earth, and to sustain them both
is no burthen to him. He is the High, the Mighty!"
The sublimity of this eulogy of the Most High may be readily traced to
the psalms, particularly to that grandest of all songs, the one hundred
and fourth psalm, which has been said to be remarkable in that it
embraces the whole cosmos. And, in fact, the whole trend of the Koran
may be traced to a study of the Bible, particularly to the New
Testament, with occasional digressions into the Mishnu, and the Talmud
of the Hebrews.
"Feed the hungry! Visit the sick! Bow not to idols! Pray constantly, and
direct thy prayers immediately to the Deity!" These were the constant
exhortations of the prophet during these first days of his
ministry--exhortations which demand the admiration of all who consider
the grossness and idolatry of the age in which he lived. Had he never
gone further, succeeding ages might have been tempted to pardon his
hallucinations. At the time, doctrines which savored of so much
magnanimity, and which were immeasurably in advance of the mockery of
religion that had so long held sway among the majority of the Arabs, at
once commended themselves to many. The effect of the new teaching was
enhanced by the burning enthusiasm and powerful oratory of Mohammed, who
was not ignorant of the effect of eloquent delivery and glowing language
on a people ever passionate and keenly susceptible to the influence of a
strong and vivid presentation.
Ridicule and persecution ceased for a time, and at last, when the decree
was removed, Mohammed and his followers returned in triumph to Mecca.
Once again he was obliged to fly for his life. Accompanied by Zeid, he
went to Tayf, and there spent a month in its perfumed vales, wandering
by cooling streams, meditating beneath the waving fronds of the
palm-trees, or resting in cool gardens, lulled by the rustling leaves of
the nebeck (the lotus-tree), and inhaling the fresh perfume of peach and
apple blooms.
But the inhabitants of Tayf grew hostile, and the prophet again set out
on foot for Mecca. He sat down to rest in an orchard. There he dreamed
that a host of genii waited before him, begging him to teach them El
Islam.
In the night[8] he arose and proceeded, with renewed courage, on his
journey. On the way he fell in with some pilgrims from Yathrib, or
Medina, and to them he unfolded his revelations. They listened
spell-bound as he preached from Al Akaba, and besought him that he would
come or would send disciples with them to their northern town.
Accordingly, Mohammed chose several converts to accompany them upon this
first mission, and a time was set for their going.
On the evening preceding this appointed time, Yusuf sat in a hanging
balcony of Amzi's house. The pink flush of the setting sun was over the
sky; the murmur of the city arose with a subdued hum--"the city's stilly
sound"; a parchment containing a part of the Scriptures was on the
priest's knee, but he stopped reading and gave himself up to meditation,
wondering deeply at the strange course that events were taking, and
surmising vaguely the probable result of the revolution that seemed
impending.
His thoughts turned to Amzi, who, as yet, closed his ears to the Gospel
tidings which were proving such a comfort and joy to the priest.
A step sounded behind him. It was Amzi himself, attired in traveling
garb, and with his camel-stick already in his hand.
"What now, friend Yusuf? Dreaming still?" he said. "Will you not say
farewell to your friend?"
"What! Are you going on a journey? Pray, where goes Amzi on such short
notice?"
"Ah," smiled Amzi, "I almost fear to tell my Persian proselyte, lest the
vials of his wrath be poured on my defenceless and submissive head. To
make a long story short, I go with the disciples of Mohammed to Medina."
"As Mohammed's disciple? Amzi, has it come to this!" exclaimed the
priest.
"Chain your choler, my friend," laughed the other. "I merely go to
observe the outcome of this movement in the town of the North. Besides,
the heat of Mecca in this season oppresses me, and I long for the cool
breezes of Medina. Yusuf, I shall have rare letters to write you, for I
feel that there will be a mighty movement in favor of Mohammed there."
"You begin to believe in him, Amzi!" said Yusuf in tones of deepest
concern.
"His doctrines suit me, as containing many noble precepts. His
proclamations are moving the town in such a way as was never known
heretofore."
"Consider the movement caused by the teaching of Christ when he was on
earth!" cried Yusuf. "Dare you compare this petty tempest with that?"
"Yet Christ's very words have been here where all might read them, for
long enough. Why have they not drawn the attention of, and, if divine,
why have they not shown their power among, our citizens?"
"Because ye have eyes that see not, and ears that hear not!" cried the
priest impetuously. "Can you not see that the doctrines of the
Scriptures are just those which Mohammed proclaims? He seizes upon them,
he gives them as his own, because he knows they are good, yet he commits
the sacrilege of posing as a divine agent! Good cannot come out of this
except in so far as a few precepts of the Gospel, all plagiarized as
they are, exert their influence upon the lives of people."
Amzi looked inconvincible. "I grant the excellence of Gospel teaching,"
he said, "but your conception of God's love I cannot seem to feel, often
as you have explained it to me. Mohammed's revelations appear plausible.
Yet, look not so doleful, brother. Amzi has not become a Mohammedan. He
is still ready to believe as soon as he can see."
"Yes, yes; like Thomas, you must see and feel ere you will believe. God
grant that the seeing and feeling may not come too late!"
Amzi smiled, and passed his arm affectionately about the priest's
shoulder. "What a thorn in the flesh to you is Amzi the benevolent," he
said, kindly. "Notwithstanding, give me your blessing, priest. Give me
credit for being, at least, honest, and bid me good speed before I go."
"Heaven forbid that aught but blessing from Yusuf should ever follow
Amzi!" returned the other, warmly. "May heaven keep and direct you, my
friend, my brother!"
The friends embraced, according to the custom of the land, and
separated; Amzi to join the half-naked pilgrims, who had not yet donned
their traveling-robes, Yusuf to lift his heart to Heaven, as he now did
in every circumstance. In this silent talk to God he received comfort,
and his heart was filled with hope for Amzi.
Even this journey, which seemed so inauspicious, might, he thought, be
but the beginning of a happy end. He had learned that there are no
trifles in life; that no event is so insignificant that God may not make
use of it. He felt that Amzi was not utterly indifferent to the
influence of divine power, so he waited in patience.