by Will Durant
The ten years’ truce had eight years to run; but Mohammed alleged that a tribe allied with the Quraish had attacked a Moslem tribe, and thereby voided the truce (630). He gathered 10,000 men, and marched to Mecca. Abu Sufyan, perceiving the strength of Mohammed’s forces, allowed him to enter unopposed. Mohammed responded handsomely by declaring a general amnesty for all but two or three of his enemies. He destroyed the idols in and around the Kaaba, but spared the Black Stone, and sanctioned the kissing of it. He proclaimed Mecca the Holy City of Islam, and decreed that no unbeliever should ever be allowed to set foot on its sacred soil. The Quraish abandoned direct opposition; and the buffeted preacher who had fled from Mecca eight years before was now master of all its life.
IV. MOHAMMED VICTORIOUS: 630–2
His two remaining years—spent mostly at Medina—were a continuing triumph. After some minor rebellions all Arabia submitted to his authority and creed. The most famous Arabian poet of the time, Kab ibn Zuhair, who had written a diatribe against him, came in person to Medina, surrendered himself to Mohammed, proclaimed himself a convert, received pardon, and composed so eloquent a poem in honor of the Prophet that Mohammed bestowed his mantle upon him.* In return for a moderate tribute the Christians of Arabia were taken under Mohammed’s protection, and enjoyed full liberty of worship, but they were forbidden to charge interest on loans.41 We are told that he sent envoys to the Greek emperor, the Persian king, and the rulers of Hira and Ghassan, inviting them to accept the new faith; apparently there was no reply. He observed with philosophic resignation the mutual destruction in which Persia and Byzantium were engaged; but he does not seem to have entertained any thought of extending his power outside of Arabia.
His days were filled with the chores of government. He gave himself conscientiously to details of legislation, judgment, and civil, religious, and military organization. One of his least inspired acts was his regulation of the calendar. This had consisted among the Arabs, as among the Jews, of twelve lunar months, with an intercalary month every three years to renew concord with the sun. Mohammed ruled that the Moslem year should always consist of twelve lunar months, of alternately thirty and twenty-nine days; as a result the Moslem calendar lost all harmony with the seasons, and gained a year upon the Gregorian calendar every thirty-two and a half years. The Prophet was not a scientific legislator; he drew up no code or digest, had no system; he issued edicts according to the occasion; if contradictions developed he smoothed them with new revelations that sternly superseded the old.42 Even his most prosaic directives might be presented as revelations from Allah. Harassed by the necessity of adapting this lofty method to mundane affairs, his style lost something of its former eloquence and poetry; but perhaps he felt that this was small price to pay for having all his legislation bear the awesome stamp of deity. At the same time he could be charmingly modest. More than once he admitted his ignorance. He protested against being taken for more than a fallible and mortal man.43 He claimed no power to predict the future or to perform miracles. However, he was not above using the method of revelation for very human and personal ends, as when a special message from Allah44 sanctioned his desire to marry the pretty wife of Zaid, his adopted son.
His ten wives and two concubines have been a source of marvel, merriment, and envy to the Western world. We must continually remind ourselves that the high death rate of the male among the ancient and early medieval Semites lent to polygamy, in Semitic eyes, the aspect of a biological necessity, almost a moral obligation. Mohammed took polygamy for granted, and indulged himself in marriage with a clear conscience and no morbid sensuality. Aisha, in a tradition of uncertain authority, quoted him as saying that the three most precious things in this world are women, fragrant odors, and prayers.45 Some of his marriages were acts of kindness to the destitute widows of followers or friends, as in the case of Omar’s daughter Hafsa; some were diplomatic marriages, as in the case of Hafsa—to bind Omar to him—and the daughter of Abu Sufyan—to win an enemy. Some may have been due to a perpetually frustrated hope for a son. All his wives after Khadija were barren, which subjected the Prophet to much raillery. Of the children borne to him by Khadija only one survived him—Fatima. Mary, a Coptic slave presented to him by the Negus of Abyssinia, rejoiced him, in the last year of his life, with a son; but Ibrahim died after fifteen months.
His crowded harem troubled him with quarrels, jealousies, and demands for pin money.46 He refused to indulge the extravagance of his wives, but he promised them paradise; and for a time he dutifully spent a night with each of them in rotation; the master of Arabia had no apartment of his own.47 The alluring and vivacious Aisha, however, won so many attentions out of her turn that the other wives rebelled, until the matter was settled by a special revelation:
Thou canst defer whom thou wilt of them, and receive of them whom thou wilt; and whomsoever thou desirest of those whom thou hast set aside, it is no sin for thee; that is better, that they may be comforted and not grieve, and may all be pleased with what thou givest them.48
Women and power were his only indulgence; for the rest he was a man of unassuming simplicity. The apartments in which he successively dwelt were cottages of unburnt brick, twelve or fourteen feet square, eight feet high, and thatched with palm branches; the door was a screen of goat or camel hair; the furniture was a mattress and pillows spread upon the floor.49 He was often seen mending his clothes or shoes, kindling the fire, sweeping the floor, milking the family goat in his yard, or shopping for provisions in the market.50 He ate with his fingers, and licked them thriftily after each meal.51 His staple foods were dates and barley bread; milk and honey were occasional luxuries;52 and he obeyed his own interdiction of wine. Courteous to the great, affable to the humble, dignified to the presumptuous, indulgent to his aides, kindly to all but his foes—so his friends and followers describe him.53 He visited the sick, and joined any funeral procession that he met. He put on none of the pomp of power, rejected any special mark of reverence, accepted the invitation of a slave to dinner, and asked no service of a slave that he had time and strength to do for himself.54 Despite all the booty and revenue that came to him, he spent little upon his family, less upon himself, much in charity.55
But, like all men, he was vain. He gave considerable time to his personal appearance—perfumed his body, painted his eyes, dyed his hair, and wore a ring inscribed “Mohammed the Messenger of Allah”;56 perhaps this was for signing documents. His voice was hypnotically musical. His senses were painfully keen; he could not bear evil odors, jangling bells, or loud talk. “Be modest in thy bearing,” he taught, “and subdue thy voice. Lo, the harshest of all voices is that of the ass.”57 He was nervous and restless, subject to occasional melancholy, then suddenly talkative and gay. He had a sly humor. To Abu Horairah, who visited him with consuming frequency, he suggested: “O Abu Horairah! let me alone every other day, that so affection may increase.”58 He was an unscrupulous warrior, and a just judge. He could be cruel and treacherous, but his acts of mercy were numberless. He stopped many barbarous superstitions, such as blinding part of a herd to propitiate the evil eye, or tying a dead man’s camel to his grave.59 His friends loved him to idolatry. His followers collected his spittle, or his cut hair, or the water in which he had washed his hands, expecting from these objects magic cures for their infirmities.60
His own health and energy had borne up well through all the tasks of love and war. But at the age of fifty-nine he began to fail. A year previously, he thought, the people of Khaibar had served him poisonous meat; since then he had been subject to strange fevers and spells; in the dead of night, Aisha reported, he would steal from the house, visit a graveyard, ask forgiveness of the dead, pray aloud for them, and congratulate them on being dead. Now, in his sixty-third year, these fevers became more exhausting. One night Aisha complained of a headache. He complained of one also, and asked playfully would she not prefer to die first, and have the advantage of being buried by the Prophet of Allah—to which she replied, with he
r customary tartness, that he would doubtless, on returning from her grave, install a fresh bride in her place.61 For fourteen days thereafter the fever came and went. Three days before his death he rose from his sickbed, walked into the mosque, saw Abu Bekr leading the prayers in his stead, and humbly sat beside him during the ceremony. On June 7, 632, after a long agony, he passed away, his head on Aisha’s breast.
If we judge greatness by influence, he was one of the giants of history. He undertook to raise the spiritual and moral level of a people harassed into barbarism by heat and foodless wastes, and he succeeded more completely than any other reformer; seldom has any man so fully realized his dream. He accomplished his purpose through religion not only because he himself was religious, but because no other medium could have moved the Arabs of his time; he appealed to their imagination, their fears and hopes, and spoke in terms that they could understand. When he began, Arabia was a desert flotsam of idolatrous tribes; when he died it was a nation. He restrained fanaticism and superstition, but he used them. Upon Judaism, Zoroastrianism, and his native creed he built a religion simple and clear and strong, and a morality of ruthless courage and racial pride, which in a generation marched to a hundred victories, in a century to empire, and remains to this day a virile force through half the world.
CHAPTER IX
The Koran
I. FORM
THE word qur’ân means a reading or discourse, and is applied by Moslems to the whole, or to any section, of their sacred scriptures. Like the Jewish-Christian Bible, the Koran is an accumulation, and orthodoxy claims it to be in every syllable inspired by God. Unlike the Bible, it is proximately the work of one man, and is therefore without question the most influential book ever produced by a single hand. At various times in the last twenty-three years of his life Mohammed dictated some fragment of this revelation; each was written upon parchment, leather, palm-leaves, or bones, was read to an assembly, and was deposited in various receptacles with preceding revelations, with no special care to keep them in logical or chronological order. No collection of these fragments was made in the Prophet’s lifetime; but several Moslems knew them all by heart, and served as living texts. In the year 633, when many of these qurra had died and were not being replaced, the Caliph Abu Bekr ordered Mohammed’s chief amanuensis, Zaid ibn Thabit, to “search out the Koran and bring it together.” He gathered the fragments, says tradition, “from date leaves and tablets of white stone, and the breasts of men.” From Zaid’s completed manuscript several copies were made; but as these had no vowels, public readers interpreted some words variously, and diverse texts appeared in different cities of the spreading Moslem realm. To stop this confusion the Caliph Othman commissioned Zaid and three Quraish scholars to revise Zaid’s manuscript (651); copies of this official revision were sent to Damascus, Kufa, and Basra; and since then the text has been preserved with unparalleled purity and reverential care.
The nature of the book doomed it to repetition and disorder. Each passage taken separately fulfills an intelligible purpose—states a doctrine, dictates a prayer, announces a law, denounces an enemy, directs a procedure, tells a story, calls to arms, proclaims a victory, formulates a treaty, appeals for funds, regulates ritual, morals, industry, trade, or finance. But we are not sure that Mohammed wanted all these fragments gathered into one book. Many of them were arguments to the man or the moment; they can hardly be understood without the commentary of history and tradition; and none but the Faithful need expect to enjoy them all. The 114 chapters (“suras”) are arranged not in the order of their composition, which is unknown, but in the order of their decreasing length. Since the earlier revelations were generally shorter than the later ones, the Koran is history in reverse. The Medina suras, prosaic and practical, appear first; the Mecca suras, poetic and spiritual, appear last. The Koran puts its worst foot forward, and should be begun at the end.
All the suras except the first take the form of discourses by Allah or Gabriel to Mohammed, his followers, or his enemies; this was the plan adopted by the Hebrew prophets, and in many passages of the Pentateuch. Mohammed felt that no moral code would win obedience adequate to the order and vigor of a society unless men believed the code to have come from God. The method lent itself well to a style of impassioned grandeur and eloquence, at times rivaling Isaiah.1 Mohammed used a mode of utterance half poetry, half prose; rhythm and rhyme are pervasive in it, but irregular; and in the early Meccan suras there is a sonorous cadence and bold sweep of style that are completely felt only by those familiar with the language and sympathetic with the creed. The book is in the purest Arabic, rich in vivid similes, and too florid for Occidental taste. By general consent it is the best, as well as the first, work in the prose literature of Arabia.
II. CREED*
A religion is, among other things, a mode of moral government. The historian does not ask if a theology is true—through what omniscience might he judge? Rather he inquires what social and psychological factors combined to produce the religion; how well it accomplished the purpose of turning beasts into men, savages into citizens, and empty hearts into hopeful courage and minds at peace; how much freedom it still left to the mental development of mankind; and what was its influence in history.
Judaism, Christianity, and Islam assumed that the first necessity for a healthy society is belief in the moral government of the universe—belief that even in the heyday of evil some beneficent intelligence, however unintelligibly, guides the cosmic drama to a just and noble end. The three religions that helped to form the medieval mind agreed that this cosmic intelligence is one supreme God; Christianity added, however, that the one God appears in three distinct persons; Judaism and Islam considered this a disguised polytheism, and proclaimed with passionate emphasis the unity and singleness of God. The Koran devotes a whole sura (cxii) to this theme; the Moslem muezzin chants it daily from a hundred thousand minarets.
Allah is, first of all, the source of life and growth and all the blessings of the earth. Says Mohammed’s Allah to Mohammed:
Thou seest the earth barren; but when We send down water thereon, … it doth thrill and swell and put forth every lovely kind (xxii, 5)…. Let man consider his food: how We pour water in showers, then split the earth in clefts, and cause the grain to grow therein, and grapes and green fodder, and olive and palm trees, and garden closes of thick foliage (lxxx, 24-30)…. Look upon the fruit thereof, and upon its ripening; lo, herein, verily, are portents for a people who believe (vi, 100).
Allah is also a God of power, “Who raised up the heavens without visible support, … and ordereth the course of the sun and moon, … and spread out the earth, and placed therein firm hills and flowing streams” (xiii, 2-3). Or, in the famous “Throne Verse”:
Allah! There is no God save Him, the living, the eternal! Neither slumber nor sleep overtaketh Him. Unto Him belongeth whatsoever is in the earth. Who is he that intercedeth with Him save by His leave? He knoweth that which is in front of them and that which is behind them … His throne includeth the heavens and the earth, and He is never weary of preserving them. He is the Sublime, the Tremendous (ii, 255).
But along with His power and justice goes everlasting mercy. Every chapter of the Koran except the ninth, like every orthodox Moslem book, begins with the solemn prelude (called bismillah from its first words): “In the name of God the Compassionate, the Merciful”; and though Mohammed stresses the terrors of hell, he never tires of praising the infinite mercy of his God.
Allah is an omniscient deity, and knows our most secret thoughts. “Verily We created man, and We know what his soul whispereth to him, for We are nearer to him than the vein in his neck” (1, 15). Since Allah knows the future as well as the present and the past, all things are predestined; everything has been decreed and fixed from all eternity by the divine will, even to the final fate of every soul. Like Augustine’s God, Allah not only knows from eternity who will be saved, but “sendeth whom He will astray, and guideth whom He will” (xxxv, 8; lxxvi,
31). As Yahveh hardened Pharaoh’s heart, so Allah says of unbelievers: “We have thrown veils over their hearts lest they should understand the Koran, and into their ears a heaviness; and if thou bid them to the guidance, yet even then they will never be guided” (xviii, 58). This—doubtless intended as a spur to belief—is a hard saying in any religion, but Mohammed thrusts it down with more than Augustinian thoroughness: “Had We pleased,” says Allah, “We had certainly given to every soul its guidance. But true shall be the word that has gone forth from Me—I will surely fill hell with jinn [demons] and men together” (xxxii, 13). Once, says a tradition ascribed to Ali, “we were sitting with the Prophet, and he wrote with a stick in the ground, saying: ‘There is not one among you whose sitting place is not written by God whether in fire or in paradise.’”2 This belief in predestination made fatalism a prominent feature in Moslem thought. It was used by Mohammed and other leaders to encourage bravery in battle, since no danger could hasten, nor any caution defer, the predestined hour of each man’s death. It gave the Moslem a dignified resignation against the hardships and necessities of life; but it conspired with other factors to produce, in later centuries, a pessimistic inertia in Arab life and thought.
The Koran fills out its supernatural world with angels, jinn, and a devil. The angels serve as Allah’s secretaries and messengers, and record the good and wicked deeds of men. The jinn are genii, made out of fire; unlike the angels, they eat, drink, copulate, and die; some- are good, and listen to the Koran (lxxii, 8); most are bad, and spend their time getting human beings into mischief. The leader of the evil jinn is Iblis, who was once a great angel, but was condemned for refusing to pay homage to Adam.
The ethic of the Koran, like that of the New Testament, rests on the fear of punishment, and the hope of reward, beyond the grave. “The life of the world is only play, and idle talk, and pageantry” (lvii, 20); only one thing is certain in it, and that is death. Some Arabs thought that death ends all, and laughed at theories of an afterlife as “naught but fables of the men of old” (xxiii, 83); but the Koran vouches for the resurrection of body and soul (lxxv, 3-4). Resurrection will not come at once; the dead will sleep till Judgment Day; but because of their sleep, their awaking will seem to them immediate. Only Allah knows when this general resurrection will take place. But certain signs will herald its coming. In those last days faith in religion will have decayed; morals will be loosened into chaos; there will be tumults and seditions, and great wars, and wise men will wish themselves dead. The final signal will be three trumpet blasts. At the first blast the sun will go out, the stars will fall, the heavens will melt, all buildings and mountains will be leveled with the earth and its plains, and the seas will dry up or burst into flame (xx, 102f). At the second blast all living creatures—angels or jinn or men—will be annihilated, except a few favored of God. Forty years later Israfel, the angel of music, will blow the third blast; then dead bodies will rise from the grave and rejoin their souls. God will come in the clouds, attended by angels bearing the books of all men’s deeds, words, and thoughts. The good works will be weighed in a scale against the bad, and each man will so be judged. The inspired prophets will denounce those who rejected their message, and will intercede for those who believed. The good and bad alike will move out upon the bridge al-Sirat, which—finer than a hair and sharper than the edge of a sword—is suspended over the chasms of hell; the wicked and unbelievers will fall from it; the good will pass over it safely into paradise—not through their own merits, but only through the mercy of God. The Koran, like the Fundamentalist forms of Christianity, seems more concerned with right belief than with good conduct; a hundred times it threatens with hell those who reject Mohammed’s appeal (iii, 10, 63, 131; iv, 56, 115; vii, 41; viii, 50; ix, 63, etc.). Sins being diverse in degree and kind, there are seven levels in hell, each with punishments adjusted to the offense. There will be burning heat and biting cold; even the most lightly punished will wear shoes of fire. The drink of the damned will be boiling water and filth (lvi, 40f). Perhaps Dante saw some of his visions in the Koran.
