we need not consider, as it does not help to explain his actions. If wide
circles had been anxious to know more about the contents of the "Scripture"
Mohammed would not have felt in the dark in the way that he did. We shall
probably never know, by intercourse with whom it really was that Mohammed
at last gained some knowledge of the contents of the sacred books of
Judaism and Christianity; probably through various people, and over a
considerable length of time. It was not lettered men who satisfied his
awakened curiosity; otherwise the quite confused ideas, especially in the
beginning of the revelation, concerning the mutual relations between Jews
and Christians could not be explained. Confusions between Miryam, the
sister of Moses, and Mary, the mother of Jesus, between Saul and Gideon,
mistakes about the relationship of Abraham to Isaac, Ishmael, and Jacob,
might be put down to misconceptions of Mohammed himself, who could not all
at once master the strange material. But his representation of Judaism and
Christianity and a number of other forms of revelation, as almost identical
in their contents, differing only in the place where, the time wherein, and
the messenger of God by whom they came to man; this idea, which runs like
a crimson thread through all the revelations of the first twelve years
of Mohammed's prophecy, could not have existed if he had had an intimate
acquaintance with Jewish or Christian men of letters. Moreover, the many
post-biblical features and stories which the Qorân contains concerning the
past of mankind, indicate a vulgar origin, and especially as regards
the Christian legends, communications from people who lived outside the
communion of the great Christian churches; this is sufficiently proved by
the docetical representation of the death of Jesus and the many stories
about his life, taken from apocryphal sources or from popular oral legends.

Mohammed's unlearned imagination worked all such material together into
a religious history of mankind, in which Adam's descendants had become
divided into innumerable groups of peoples differing in speech and place
of abode, whose aim in life at one period or another came to resemble
wonderfully that of the inhabitants of West- and Central-Arabia in the
seventh century A.D. Hereby they strayed from the true path, in strife with
the commands given by Allah. The whole of history, therefore, was for him
a long series of repetitions of the antithesis between the foolishness of
men, as this was now embodied in the social state of Mecca, and the wisdom
of God, as known to the "People of the Scripture." To bring the erring ones
back to the true path, it was Allah's plan to send them messengers from out
of their midst, who delivered His ritual and His moral directions to them
in His own words, who demanded the acknowledgment of Allah's omnipotence,
and if they refused to follow the true guidance, threatened them with
Allah's temporary or, even more, with His eternal punishment.

The antithesis is always the same, from Adam to Jesus, and the enumeration
of the scenes is therefore rather monotonous; the only variety is in the
detail, borrowed from biblical and apocryphal legends. In all the thousands
of years the messengers of Allah play the same part as Mohammed finally saw
himself called upon to play towards his people.

Mohammed's account of the past contains more elements of Jewish than of
Christian origin, and he ignores the principal dogmas of the Christian
Church. In spite of his supernatural birth, Jesus is only a prophet
like Moses and others; and although his miracles surpass those of other
messengers, Mohammed at a later period of his life is inclined to place
Abraham above Jesus in certain respects. Yet the influence of Christianity
upon Mohammed's vocation was very great; without the Christian idea of the
final scene of human history, of the Resurrection of the dead and the Last
Judgment, Mohammed's mission would have no meaning. It is true, monotheism,
in the Jewish sense, and after the contrast had become clear to Mohammed,
accompanied by an express rejection of the Son of God and of the Trinity,
has become one of the principal dogmas of Islâm. But in Mohammed's first
preaching, the announcement of the Day of judgment is much more prominent
than the Unity of God; and it was against his revelations concerning
Doomsday that his opponents directed their satire during the first twelve
years. It was not love of their half-dead gods but anger at the wretch who
was never tired of telling them, in the name of Allah, that all their
life was idle and despicable, that in the other world they would be the
outcasts, which opened the floodgates of irony and scorn against Mohammed.
And it was Mohammed's anxiety for his own lot and that of those who were
dear to him in that future life, that forced him to seek a solution of the
question: who shall bring my people out of the darkness of antithesis into
the light of obedience to Allah?

We should, _a posteriori_, be inclined to imagine a simpler answer to the
question than that which Mohammed found; he might have become a missionary
of Judaism or of Christianity to the Meccans. However natural such
a conclusion may appear to us, from the premises with which we are
acquainted, it did not occur to Mohammed. He began--the Qorân tells us
expressly--by regarding the Arabs, or at all events _his_ Arabs, as
heretofore destitute of divine message[1]: "to whom We have sent no warner
before you." Moses and Jesus--not to mention any others--had not been sent
for the Arabs; and as Allah would not leave any section of mankind without
a revelation, their prophet must still be to come. Apparently Mohammed
regarded the Jewish and Christian tribes in Arabia as exceptions to the
rule that an ethnical group (_ummah_) was at the same time a religious
unity. He did not imagine that it could be in Allah's plan that the Arabs
were to conform to a revelation given in a foreign language. No; God must
speak to them in Arabic.[2] Through whose mouth?

[Footnote 1: _Qorân_, xxxii., 2; xxxiv., 43; xxxvi., 5, etc.]

[Footnote 2: _Ibid_., xii., 2; xiii., 37; XX., 112; XXVI., 195; xli., 44,
etc.]

A long and severe crisis preceded Mohammed's call. He was convinced that,
if he were the man, mighty signs from Heaven must be revealed to him, for
his conception of revelation was mechanical; Allah Himself, or at least
angels, must speak to him. The time of waiting, the process of objectifying
the subjective, lived through by the help of an overstrained imagination,
all this laid great demands upon the psychical and physical constitution of
Mohammed. At length he saw and heard that which he thought he ought to hear
and see. In feverish dreams he found the form for the revelation, and he
did not in the least realize that the contents of his inspiration from
Heaven were nothing but the result of what he had himself absorbed. He
realized it so little, that the identity of what was revealed to him with
what he held to be the contents of the Scriptures of Jews and Christians
was a miracle to him, the only miracle upon which he relied for the support
of his mission.

In the course of the twenty-three years of Mohammed's work as God's
messenger, the over-excited state, or inspiration, or whatever we may
call the peculiar spiritual condition in which his revelation was born,
gradually gave place to quiet reflection. Especially after the Hijrah, when
the prophet had to provide the state established by him at Medina with
inspired regulations, the words of God became in almost every respect
different from what they had been at first. Only the form was retained. In
connection with this evolution, some of our biographers of Mohammed, even
where they do not deny the obvious honesty of his first visions, represent
him in the second half of his work, as a sort of actor, who played with
that which had been most sacred to him. This accusation is, in my opinion,
unjust.

Mohammed, who twelve years long, in spite of derision and contempt,
continued to inveigh in the name of Allah against the frivolous
conservatism of the heathens in Mecca, to preach Allah's omnipotence to
them, to hold up to them Allah's commands and His promises and threats
regarding the future life, "without asking any reward" for such exhausting
work, is really not another man than the acknowledged "Messenger of
Allah" in Medina, who saw his power gradually increase, who was taught by
experience the value and the use of the material means of extending it,
and who finally, by the force of arms compelled all Arabs to "obedience to
Allah and His messenger."

In our own society, real enthusiasm in the propagation of an idea generally
considered as absurd, if crowned by success may, in the course of time, end
in cold, prosaic calculation without a trace of hypocrisy. Nowhere in
the life of Mohammed can a point of turning be shown; there is a gradual
changing of aims and a readjustment of the means of attaining them. From
the first the outcast felt himself superior to the well-to-do people who
looked down upon him; and with all his power he sought for a position from
which he could force them to acknowledge his superiority. This he found in
the next and better world, of which the Jews and Christians knew. After a
crisis, which some consider as psychopathologic, he knew himself to be sent
by Allah to call the materialistic community, which he hated and despised,
to the alternative, either in following him to find eternal blessedness, or
in denying him to be doomed to eternal fire.

Powerless against the scepticism of his hearers, after twelve years of
preaching followed only by a few dozen, most of them outcasts like himself,
he hoped now and then that Allah would strike the recalcitrant multitude
with an earthly doom, as he knew from revelations had happened before. This
hope was also unfulfilled. As other messengers of God had done in similar
circumstances, he sought for a more fruitful field than that of his
birthplace; he set out on the Hijrah, _i.e._, emigration to Medina. Here
circumstances were more favourable to him: in a short time he became the
head of a considerable community.

Allah, who had given him power, soon allowed him to use it for the
protection of the interests of the Faithful against the unbelievers.
Once become militant, Mohammed turned from the purely defensive to the
aggressive attitude, with such success that a great part of the Arab tribes
were compelled to accept Islâm, "obedience to Allah and His Messenger." The
rule formerly insisted upon: "No compulsion in religion," was sacrificed,
since experience taught him, that the truth was more easily forced upon
men by violence than by threats which would be fulfilled only after the
resurrection. Naturally, the religious value of the conversions sank in
proportion as their number increased. The Prophet of world renouncement
in Mecca wished to win souls for his faith; the Prophet-Prince in Medina
needed subjects and fighters for his army. Yet he was still the same
Mohammed.

Parallel with his altered position towards the heathen Arabs went a
readjustment of his point of view towards the followers of Scripture.
Mohammed never pretended to preach a new religion; he demanded in the name
of Allah the same Islâm (submission) that Moses, Jesus, and former prophets
had demanded of their nations. In his earlier revelations he always points
out the identity of his "Qorâns" with the contents of the sacred books of
Jews and Christians, in the sure conviction that these will confirm his
assertion if asked. In Medina he was disillusioned by finding neither Jews
nor Christians prepared to acknowledge an Arabian prophet, not even for the
Arabs only; so he was led to distinguish between the _true_ contents of the
Bible and that which had been made of it by the falsification of later
Jews and Christians. He preferred now to connect his own revelations more
immediately with those of Abraham, no books of whom could be cited against
him, and who was acknowledged by Jews and Christians without being himself
either a Jew or a Christian.

This turn, this particular connection of Islâm with Abraham, made it
possible for him, by means of an adaptation of the biblical legends
concerning Abraham, Hagar, and Ishmael, to include in his religion a set of
religious customs of the Meccans, especially the hajj.[1] Thus Islâm became
more Arabian, and at the same time more independent of the other revealed
religions, whose degeneracy was demonstrated by their refusal to
acknowledge Mohammed.

[Footnote 1: A complete explanation of the gradual development of the
Abraham legend in the Qorân can be found in my book _Het Mekkaansche Feest_
(The Feast of Mecca), Leiden, 1880.]

All this is to be explained without the supposition of conscious trickery
or dishonesty on the part of Mohammed. There was no other way for the
unlettered Prophet, whose belief in his mission was unshaken, to overcome
the difficulties entailed by his closer acquaintance with the tenets of
other religions.

How, then, are we to explain the starting-point of it all--Mohammed's sense
of vocation? Was it a disease of the spirit, a kind of madness? At all
events, the data are insufficient upon which to form a serious diagnosis.
Some have called it epilepsy. Sprenger, with an exaggerated display of
certainty based upon his former medical studies, gave Mohammed's disorder
the name of hysteria. Others try to find a connection between Mohammed's
extraordinary interest in the fair sex and his prophetic consciousness.
But, after all, is it explaining the spiritual life of a man, who was
certainly unique, if we put a label upon him, and thus class him with
others, who at the most shared with him certain abnormalities? A normal man
Mohammed certainly was not. But as soon as we try to give a positive name
to this negative quality, then we do the same as the heathens of Mecca, who
were violently awakened by his thundering prophecies: "He is nothing but
one possessed, a poet, a soothsayer, a sorcerer," they said. Whether we say
with the old European biographers "impostor," or with the modern ones put
"epileptic," or "hysteric" in its place, makes little difference. The
Meccans ended by submitting to him, and conquering a world under the banner
of his faith. We, with the diffidence which true science implies, feel
obliged merely to call him Mohammed, and to seek in the Qorân, and with
great cautiousness in the Tradition, a few principal points of his life and
work, in order to see how in his mind the intense feeling of discontent
during the misery of his youth, together with a great self-reliance, a
feeling of spiritual superiority to his surroundings, developed into
a call, the form of which was largely decided by Jewish and Christian
influence.

While being struck by various weaknesses which disfigured this great
personality and which he himself freely confessed, we must admire the
perseverance with which he retained his faith in his divine mission, not
discouraged by twelve years of humiliation, nor by the repudiation of the
"People of Scripture," upon whom he had relied as his principal witnesses,
nor yet by numbers of temporary rebuffs during his struggle for the
dominion of Allah and His Messenger, which he carried on through the whole
of Arabia.

Was Mohammed conscious of the universality of his mission? In the beginning
he certainly conceived his work as merely the Arabian part of a universal
task, which, for other parts of the world, was laid upon other messengers.
In the Medina period he ever more decidedly chose the direction of "forcing
to comply." He was content only when the heathens perceived that further
resistance to Allah's hosts was useless; their understanding of his "clear
Arabic Qorân" was no longer the principal object of his striving. _Such_
an Islâm could equally well be forced upon _non-Arabian_ heathens. And,
as regards the "People of Scripture," since Mohammed's endeavour to be
recognized by them had failed, he had taken up his position opposed to
them, even above them. With the rise of his power he became hard and cruel
to the Jews in North-Arabia, and from Jews and Christians alike in Arabia
he demanded submission to his authority, since it had proved impossible to
make them recognize his divine mission. This demand could quite logically
be extended to all Christians; in the first place to those of the Byzantine
Empire. But did Mohammed himself come to these conclusions in the last part
of his life? Are the words in which Allah spoke to him: "We have sent thee
to men in general,"[1] and a few expressions of the same sort, to be taken
in that sense, or does "humanity" here, as in many other places in the
Qorân, mean those with whom Mohammed had especially to do? Nôldeke is
strongly of opinion that the principal lines of the program of conquest
carried out after Mohammed's death, had been drawn by the Prophet himself.
Lammens and others deny with equal vigour, that Mohammed ever looked upon
the whole world as the field of his mission. This shows that the solution
is not evident.[2]

[Footnote 1: _Qorân_, xxxiv., 27. The translation of this verse has
always been a subject of great difference of opinion. At the time of its
revelation--as fixed by Mohammedan as well as by western authorities--the
universal conception of Mohammed's mission was quite out of question.]

[Footnote 2: Professor T.W. Arnold in the 2d edition (London, 1913) of
his valuable work _The Preaching of Islâm_ (especially pp. 28-31), warmly
endeavours to prove that Mohammed from the beginning considered his mission
as universal. He weakens his argument more than is necessary by placing the
Tradition upon an almost equal footing with the Qorân as a source, and by
ignoring the historical development which is obvious in the Qorân itself.
In this way he does not perceive the great importance of the history of the
Abraham legend in Mohammed's conception. Moreover, the translation of
the verses of the Qorân on p. 29 sometimes says more than the original.
_Lil-nâs_ is not "_to mankind_" but "_to men_," in the sense of "_to
everybody_." _Qorân_, xvi., 86, does not say: "One day we will raise up
a witness out of every nation," but: "On the day (_i.e._, the day of
resurrection) when we will raise up, etc.," which would seem to refer to
the theme so constantly repeated in the Qorân, that each nation will be
confronted on the Day of Judgment with the prophet sent to it. When the
Qorân is called an "admonition to the world (_'âlamîn_)" and Mohammed's
mission a "mercy to the world (_'âlamîn_)," then we must remember that
'âlamîn is one of the most misused rhymewords in the Qorân (e.g., _Qorân_,
xv., 70); and we should not therefore translate it emphatically as "all
created beings," unless the universality of Mohammed's mission is firmly
established by other proofs. And this is far from being the case.]

In our valuation of Mohammed's sayings we cannot lay too much stress upon
his incapability of looking far ahead. The final aims which Mohammed set
himself were considered by sane persons as unattainable. His firm belief in
the realization of the vague picture of the future which he had conceived,
nay, which Allah held before him, drove him to the uttermost exertion of
his mental power in order to surmount the innumerable unexpected obstacles
which he encountered. Hence the variability of the practical directions
contained in the Qorân; they are constantly altered according to
circumstances. Allah's words during the last part of Mohammed's life:
"This day have I perfected your religion for you, and have I filled up
the measure of my favours towards you, and chosen Islâm for you as your
religion," have in no way the meaning of the exclamation: "It is finished,"
of the dying Christ. They are only a cry of jubilation over the degradation
of the heathen Arabs by the triumph of Allah's weapons. At Mohammed's death
everything was still unstable; and the vital questions for Islâm were
subjects of contention between the leaders even before the Prophet had been
buried.

The expedient of new revelations completing, altering, or abrogating former
ones had played an important part in the legislative work of Mohammed. Now,
he had never considered that by his death the spring would be stopped,
although completion was wanted in every respect. For, without doubt,
Mohammed felt his weakness in systematizing and his absence of clearness
of vision into the future, and therefore he postponed the promulgation of
divine decrees as long as possible, and he solved only such questions
of law as frequently recurred, when further hesitation would have been
dangerous to his authority and to the peace of the community.

At Mohammed's death, all Arabs were not yet subdued to his authority.
The expeditions which he had undertaken or arranged beyond the northern
boundaries of Arabia, were directed against Arabs, although they were
likely to rouse conflict with the Byzantine and Persian empires. It would
have been contrary to Mohammed's usual methods if this had led him to form
a general definition of his attitude towards the world outside Arabia.

As little as Mohammed, when he invoked the Meccans in wild poetic
inspirations to array themselves behind him to seek the blessedness of
future life, had dreamt of the possibility that twenty years later the
whole of Arabia would acknowledge his authority in this world, as little,
nay, much less, could he at the close of his life have had the faintest
premonition of the fabulous development which his state would reach half
a century later. The subjugation of the mighty Persia and of some of the
richest provinces of the Byzantine Empire, only to mention these, was never
a part of his program, although legend has it that he sent out written
challenges to the six princes of the world best known to him. Yet we
may say that Mohammed's successors in the guidance of his community, by
continuing their expansion towards the north, after the suppression of the
apostasy that followed his death, remained in Mohammed's line of action.
There is even more evident continuity in the development of the empire of
the Omayyads out of the state of Mohammed, than in the series of events
by which we see the dreaded Prince-Prophet of Medina grew out of the
"possessed one" of Mecca. But if Mohammed had been able to foresee how the
unity of Arabia, which he nearly accomplished, was to bring into being a
formidable international empire, we should expect some indubitable traces
of this in the Qorân; not a few verses of dubious interpretation, but
some certain sign that the Revelation, which had repeatedly, and with the
greatest emphasis, called itself a "plain Arabic Qorân" intended for those
"to whom no warner had yet been sent," should in future be valid for the
'Ajam, the Barbarians, as well as for the Arabs.

Even if we ascribe to Mohammed something of the universal program, which
the later tradition makes him to have drawn up, he certainly could not
foresee the success of it. For this, in the first place, the economic and
political factors to which some scholars of our day would attribute the
entire explanation of the Islâm movement, must be taken into consideration.
Mohammed did to some extent prepare the universality of his religion and
make it possible. But that Islâm, which came into the world as the Arabian
form of the one, true religion, has actually become a universal religion,
is due to circumstances which had little to do with its origin.[1] This
extension of the domain to be subdued to its spiritual rule entailed
upon Islâm about three centuries of development and accommodation, of a
different sort, to be sure, but not less drastic in character than that of
the Christian Church.

[Footnote 1: Sir William Muir was not wrong when he said: "From first to
last the summons was to Arabs and to none other... The seed of a universal
creed had indeed been sown; but that it ever germinated was due to
circumstances rather than design."]



II

THE RELIGIOUS DEVELOPMENT OF ISLÂM


We can hardly imagine a poorer, more miserable population than that of the
South-Arabian country Hadramaut. All moral and social progress is there
impeded by the continuance of the worst elements of Jâhiliyyah (Arabian
paganism), side by side with those of Islâm. A secular nobility is formed
by groups of people, who grudge each other their very lives and fight each
other according to the rules of retaliation unmitigated by any more humane
feelings. The religious nobility is represented by descendants of the
Prophet, arduous patrons of a most narrow-minded orthodoxy and of most
bigoted fanaticism. In a well-ordered society, making the most of all the
means offered by modern technical science, the dry barren soil might be
made to yield sufficient harvests to satisfy the wants of its members; but
among these inhabitants, paralysed by anarchy, chronic famine prevails.
Foreigners wisely avoid this miserable country, and if they did visit
it, would not be hospitably received. Hunger forces many Hadramites to
emigrate; throughout the centuries we find them in all the countries of
Islâm, in the sacred cities of Western-Arabia, in Syria, Egypt, India,
Indonesia, where they often occupy important positions.

In the Dutch Indies, for instance, they live in the most important
commercial towns, and though the Government has never favoured them, and
though they have had to compete with Chinese and with Europeans, they have
succeeded in making their position sufficiently strong. Before European
influence prevailed, they even founded states in some of the larger islands
or they obtained political influence in existing native states. Under a
strong European government they are among the quietest, most industrious
subjects, all earning their own living and saving something for their poor
relations at home. They come penniless, and without any of that theoretical
knowledge or practical skill which we are apt to consider as indispensable
for a man who wishes to try his fortune in a complicated modern colonial
world. Yet I have known some who in twenty years' time have become
commercial potentates, and even millionaires.

The strange spectacle of these latent talents and of the suppressed energy
of the people of Hadramaut that seem to be waiting only for transplantation
into a more favourable soil to develop with amazing rapidity, helps us
to understand the enormous consequences of the Arabian migration in the
seventh century.

The spiritual goods, with which Islâm set out into the world, were far from
imposing. It preached a most simple monotheism: Allah, the Almighty Creator
and Ruler of heaven and earth, entirely self-sufficient, so that it were
ridiculous to suppose Him to have partners or sons and daughters to support
Him; who has created the angels that they might form His retinue, and
men and genii (jinn) that they might obediently serve Him; who decides
everything according to His incalculable will and is responsible to nobody,
as the Universe is His; of whom His creatures, if their minds be not led
astray, must therefore stand in respectful fear and awe. He has made His
will known to mankind, beginning at Adam, but the spreading of mankind over
the surface of the earth, its seduction by Satan and his emissaries have
caused most nations to become totally estranged from Him and His service.
Now and then, when He considered that the time was come, He caused a
prophet to arise from among a nation to be His messenger to summon people
to conversion, and to tell them what blessedness awaited them as a reward
of obedience, what punishments would be inflicted if they did not believe
his message.

Sometimes the disobedient had been struck by earthly judgment (the flood,
the drowning of the Egyptians, etc.), and the faithful had been rescued
in a miraculous way and led to victory; but such things merely served
as indications of Allah's greatness. One day the whole world will be
overthrown and destroyed. Then the dead will be awakened and led before
Allah's tribunal. The faithful will have abodes appointed them in
well-watered, shady gardens, with fruit-trees richly laden, with luxurious
couches upon which they may lie and enjoy the delicious food, served by the
ministrants of Paradise. They may also freely indulge in sparkling wine
that does not intoxicate, and in intercourse with women, whose youth and
virginity do not fade. The unbelievers end their lives in Hell-fire; or,
rather, there is no end, for the punishment as well as the reward are
everlasting.

Allah gives to each one his due. The actions of His creatures are all
accurately written down, and when judgment comes, the book is opened;
moreover, every creature carries the list of his own deeds and misdeeds;
the debit and credit sides are carefully weighed against each other in the
divine scales, and many witnesses are heard before judgment is pronounced.
Allah, however, is clement and merciful; He gladly forgives those sinners
who have believed in Him, who have sincerely accepted Islâm, that is to
say: who have acknowledged His absolute authority and have believed the
message of the prophet sent to them. These prophets have the privilege
of acting as mediators on behalf of their followers, not in the sense of
redeemers, but as advocates who receive gracious hearing.

Naturally, Islâm, submission to the Lord of the Universe, ought to express
itself in deeds. Allah desires the homage of formal worship, which must be
performed several times a day by every individual, and on special occasions
by the assembled faithful, led by one of them. This. service, [s.]alât,
acquired its strictly binding rules only after Mohammed's time, but already
in his lifetime it consisted chiefly of the same elements as now: the
recital of sacred texts, especially taken from the Revelation, certain
postures of the body (standing, inclination, kneeling, prostration) with
the face towards Mecca. This last particular and the language of the
Revelation are the Arabian elements of the service, which is for the rest
an imitation of Jewish and Christian rituals, so far as Mohammed knew them.
There was no sacrament, consequently no priest to administer it; Islâm has
always been the lay religion _par excellence_. Teaching and exhortation are
the only spiritual help that the pious Mohammedan wants, and this simple
care of souls is exercised without any ordination or consecration.

Fasting, for a month if possible, and longer if desired, was also an
integral part of religious life and, by showing disregard of earthly joys,
a proof of faith in Allah's promises for the world to come. Almsgiving,
recommended above all other virtues, was not only to be practised in
obedience to Allah's law and in faith in retribution, but it was to testify
contempt of all earthly possessions which might impede the striving after
eternal happiness. Later, Mohammed was compelled, by the need of a public
fund and the waning zeal of the faithful as their numbers increased, to
regulate the practice of this virtue and to exact certain minima as taxes
(_zakât_).

When Mohammed, taking his stand as opposed to Judaism and Christianity,
had accentuated the Arabian character of his religion, the Meccan rites of
pagan origin were incorporated into Islâm; but only after the purification
required by monotheism. From that time forward the yearly celebration of
the Hajj was among the ritual duties of the Moslim community.

In the first years of the strife yet another duty was most emphatically
impressed on the Faithful; _jihâd, i.e._, readiness to sacrifice life and
possessions for the defence of Islâm, understood, since the conquest of
Mecca in 630, as the extension by force of arms of the authority of the
Moslim state, first over the whole of Arabia, and soon after Mohammed's
death over the whole world, so far as Allah granted His hosts the victory.

For the rest, the legislative revelations regulated only such points as had
become subjects of argument or contest in Mohammed's lifetime, or such as
were particularly suggested by that antithesis of paganism and revelation,
which had determined Mohammed's prophetical career. Gambling and wine were
forbidden, the latter after some hesitation between the inculcation of
temperance and that of abstinence. Usury, taken in the sense of requiring
any interest at all upon loans, was also forbidden. All tribal feuds with
their consequences had henceforward to be considered as non-existent, and
retaliation, provided that the offended party would not agree to accept
compensation, was put under the control of the head of the community.
Polygamy and intercourse of master and female slave were restricted; the
obligations arising from blood-relationship or ownership were regulated.
These points suffice to remind us of the nature of the Qorânic regulations.
Reference to certain subjects in this revealed law while others were
ignored, did not depend on their respective importance to the life of the
community, but rather on what happened to have been suggested by the events
in Mohammed's lifetime. For Mohammed knew too well how little qualified he
was for legislative work to undertake it unless absolutely necessary.

This rough sketch of what Islâm meant when it set out to conquer the world,
is not very likely to create the impression that its incredibly rapid
extension was due to its superiority over the forms of civilization which
it supplanted. Lammens's assertion, that Islâm was the Jewish religion
simplified according to Arabic wants and amplified by some Christian and
Arabic traditions, contains a great deal of truth, if only we recognize the
central importance for Mohammed's vocation and preaching of the Christian
doctrine of Resurrection and judgment. This explains the large number of
weak points that the book of Mohammed's revelations, written down by his
first followers, offered to Jewish and Christian polemics. It was easy for
the theologians of those religions to point out numberless mistakes in the
work of the illiterate Arabian prophet, especially where he maintained that
he was repeating and confirming the contents of their Bible. The Qorânic
revelations about Allah's intercourse with men, taken from apocryphal
sources, from profane legends like that of Alexander the Great, sometimes
even created by Mohammed's own fancy--such as the story of the prophet
Sâlih, said to have lived in the north of Arabia, and that of the prophet
Hûd, supposed to have lived in the south; all this could not but give them
the impression of a clumsy caricature of true tradition. The principal
doctrines of Synagogue and Church had apparently been misunderstood, or
they were simply denied as corruptions.

The conversion to Islâm, within a hundred years, of such nations as the
Egyptian, the Syrian, and the Persian, can hardly be attributed to anything
but the latent talents, the formerly suppressed energy of the Arabian race
having found a favourable soil for its development; talents and energy,
however, not of a missionary kind. If Islâm is said to have been from its
beginning down to the present day, a missionary religion,[1] then "mission"
is to be taken here in a quite peculiar sense, and special attention must
be given to the preparation of the missionary field by the Moslim armies,
related by history and considered as most important by the Mohammedans
themselves.

[Footnote 1: With extraordinary talent this thesis has been defended by
Professor T.W. Arnold in the above quoted work, _The Preaching of Islam_,
which fully deserves the attention also of those who do not agree with the
writer's argument. Among the many objections that may be raised against
Prof. Arnold's conclusion, we point to the undeniable fact, that the Moslim
scholars of all ages hardly speak of "mission" at all, and always treat the
extension of the true faith by holy war as one of the principal duties of
the Moslim community.]

Certainly, the nations conquered by the Arabs under the first khalîfs were
not obliged to choose between living as Moslims or dying as unbelievers.
The conquerors treated them as Mohammed had treated Jews and Christians in
Arabia towards the end of his life, and only exacted from them submission
to Moslim authority. They were allowed to adhere to their religion,
provided they helped with their taxes to fill the Moslim exchequer. This
rule was even extended to such religions as that of the Parsîs, although
they could not be considered as belonging to the "People of Scripture"
expressly recognized in the Qorân. But the social condition of these
subjects was gradually made so oppressive by the Mohammedan masters, that
rapid conversions in masses were a natural consequence; the more natural
because among the conquered nations intellectual culture was restricted to
a small circle, so that after the conquest their spiritual leaders lacked
freedom of movement. Besides, practically very little was required from the
new converts, so that it was very tempting to take the step that led to
full citizenship.

No, those who in a short time subjected millions of non-Arabs to the state
founded by Mohammed, and thus prepared their conversion, were no apostles.
They were generals whose strategic talents would have remained hidden but
for Mohammed, political geniuses, especially from Mecca and Taif, who,
before Islâm, would have excelled only in the organization of commercial
operations or in establishing harmony between hostile families. Now they
proved capable of uniting the Arabs commanded by Allah, a unity still many
a time endangered during the first century by the old party spirit; and of
devising a division of labour between the rulers and the conquered which
made it possible for them to control the function of complicated machines
of state without any technical knowledge.

Moreover, several circumstances favoured their work; both the large realms
which extended north of Arabia, were in a state of political decline;
the Christians inhabiting the provinces that were to be conquered first,
belonged, for the larger part, to heretical sects and were treated by the
orthodox Byzantines in such a way that other masters, if tolerant, might be
welcome. The Arabian armies consisted of hardened Bedouins with few wants,
whose longing for the treasures of the civilized world made them more ready
to endure the pressure of a discipline hitherto unknown to them.

The use that the leaders made of the occasion commands our admiration;
although their plan was formed in the course and under the influence of
generally unforeseen events. Circumstances had changed Mohammed the Prophet
into Mohammed the Conqueror; and the leaders, who continued the conqueror's
work, though not driven by fanaticism or religious zeal, still prepared the
conversion of millions of men to Islâm.

It was only natural that the new masters adopted, with certain
modifications, the administrative and fiscal systems of the conquered
countries. For similar reasons Islâm had to complete its spiritual store
from the well-ordered wealth of that of its new adherents. Recent research
shows most clearly, that Islâm, in after times so sharply opposed to other
religions and so strongly armed against foreign influence, in the first
century borrowed freely and simply from the "People of Scripture" whatever
was not evidently in contradiction to the Qorân. This was to be expected;
had not Mohammed from the very beginning referred to the "people of the
Book" as "those who know"? When painful experience induced him afterwards
to accuse them of corruption of their Scriptures, this attitude
necessitated a certain criticism but not rejection of their tradition.
The ritual, only provisionally regulated and continually liable to change
according to prophetic inspiration in Mohammed's lifetime, required
unalterable rules after his death. Recent studies[1] have shown in an
astounding way, that the Jewish ritual, together with the religious rites
of the Christians, strongly influenced the definite shape given to that of
Islâm, while indirect influence of the Parsî religion is at least probable.

[Footnote 1: The studies of Professors C.H. Becker, E. Mittwoch, and
A.J. Wensinck, especially taken in connection with older ones of Ignaz
Goldziher, have thrown much light upon this subject.]

So much for the rites of public worship and the ritual purity they require.
The method of fasting seems to follow the Jewish model, whereas the period
of obligatory fasting depends on the Christian usage.

Mohammed's fragmentary and unsystematic accounts of sacred history were
freely drawn from Jewish and Christian sources and covered the whole period
from the creation of the world until the first centuries of the Christian
era. Of course, features shocking to the Moslim mind were dropped and the
whole adapted to the monotonous conception of the Qorân. With ever greater
boldness the story of Mohammed's own life was exalted to the sphere of
the supernatural; here the Gospel served as example. Though Mohammed had
repeatedly declared himself to be an ordinary man chosen by Allah as the
organ of His revelation, and whose only miracle was the Qorân, posterity
ascribed to him a whole series of wonders, evidently invented in emulation
of the wonders of Christ. The reason for this seems to have been the idea
that none of the older prophets, not even Jesus, of whom the Qorân tells
the greatest wonders, could have worked a miracle without Mohammed, the
Seal of the prophets, having rivalled or surpassed him in this respect.
Only Jesus was the Messiah; but this title did not exceed in value
different titles of other prophets, and Mohammed's special epithets were
of a higher order. A relative sinlessness Mohammed shared with Jesus; the
acceptance of this doctrine, contradictory to the original spirit of the
Qorân, had moreover a dogmatic motive: it was considered indispensable
to raise the text of the Qorân above all suspicion of corruption, which
suspicion would not be excluded if the organ of the Revelation were
fallible.

This period of naively adopting institutions, doctrines, and traditions was
soon followed by an awakening to the consciousness that Islâm could not
well absorb any more of such foreign elements without endangering its
independent character. Then a sorting began; and the assimilation of the
vast amount of borrowed matter, that had already become an integral part of
Islâm, was completed by submitting the whole to a peculiar treatment. It
was carefully divested of all marks of origin and labelled _hadîth_,[1]
so that henceforth it was regarded as emanations from the wisdom of the
Arabian Prophet, for which his followers owed no thanks to foreigners.

[Footnote 1: _Hadîth_, the Arabic word for record, story, has assumed
the technical meaning of "tradition" concerning the words and deeds of
Mohammed. It is used as well in the sense of a single record of this sort
as in that of the whole body of sacred traditions.]

At first, it was only at Medina that some pious people occupied themselves
with registering, putting in order, and systematizing the spiritual
property of Islâm; afterwards similar circles were formed in other centres,
such as Mecca, Kufa, Basra, Misr (Cairo), and elsewhere. At the outset
the collection of divine sayings, the Qorân, was the only guide, the only
source of decisive decrees, the only touchstone of what was true or false,
allowed or forbidden. Reluctantly, but decidedly at last, it was conceded
that the foundations laid by Mohammed for the life of his community were
by no means all to be found in the Holy Book; rather, that Mohammed's
revelations without his explanation and practice would have remained an
enigma. It was understood now that the rules and laws of Islâm were founded
on God's word and on the Sunnah, _i.e._, the "way" pointed out by the
Prophet's word and example. Thus it had been from the moment that Allah had
caused His light to shine over Arabia, and thus it must remain, if human
error was not to corrupt Islâm.

At the moment when this conservative instinct began to assert itself among
the spiritual leaders, so much foreign matter had already been incorporated
into Islâm, that the theory of the sufficiency of Qorân and Sunnah could
not have been maintained without the labelling operation which we have
alluded to. So it was assumed that as surely as Mohammed must have
surpassed his predecessors in perfection and in wonders, so surely must
all the principles and precepts necessary for his community have been
formulated by him. Thus, by a gigantic web of fiction, he became after his
death the organ of opinions, ideas, and interests, whose lawfulness was
recognized by every influential section of the Faithful. All that could not
be identified as part of the Prophet's Sunnah, received no recognition; on
the other hand, all that was accepted had, somehow, to be incorporated into
the Sunnah.

It became a fundamental dogma of Islâm, that the Sunnah was the
indispensable completion of the Qorân, and that both together formed the
source of Mohammedan law and doctrine; so much so that every party assumed
the name of "People of the Sunnah" to express its pretension to orthodoxy.
The _contents_ of the Sunnah, however, was the subject of a great deal of
controversy; so that it came to be considered necessary to make the Prophet
pronounce his authoritative judgment on this difference of opinion. He
was said to have called it a proof of God's special mercy, that within
reasonable limits difference of opinion was allowed in his community. Of
that privilege Mohammedans have always amply availed themselves.

When the difference touched on political questions, especially on the
succession of the Prophet in the government of the community, schism was
the inevitable consequence. Thus arose the party strifes of the first
century, which led to the establishment of the sects of the Shî'ites and
the Khârijites, separate communities, severed from the great whole, that
led their own lives, and therefore followed paths different from those of
the majority in matters of doctrine and law as well as in politics. The
sharpness of the political antithesis served to accentuate the importance
of the other differences in such cases and to debar their acceptance as the
legal consequence of the difference of opinion that God's mercy allowed.
That the political factor was indeed the great motive of separation, is
clearly shown in our own day, now that one Mohammedan state after the other
sees its political independence disappearing and efforts are being made
from all sides to re-establish the unity of the Mohammedan world by
stimulating the feeling of religious brotherhood. Among the most cultivated
Moslims of different countries an earnest endeavour is gaining ground to
admit Shî'ites, Khârijites, and others, formerly abused as heretics, into
the great community, now threatened by common foes, and to regard their
special tenets in the same way as the differences existing between the four
law schools: Hanafites, Mâlikites, Shâfi'ites and Hanbalites, which for
centuries have been considered equally orthodox.

Although the differences that divide these schools at first caused great
excitement and gave rise to violent discussions, the strong catholic
instinct of Islâm always knew how to prevent schism. Each new generation
either found the golden mean between the extremes which had divided the