Anna May Wilson - The Days of Mohammed
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Anna May Wilson >> The Days of Mohammed
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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 Mueller
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 Sabaean 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
Sabaean 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.
CHAPTER II.
A BEDOUIN ENCAMPMENT.
"The cares that infest the day
Shall fold their tents, like the Arabs,
And as silently steal away."
--_Longfellow._
Many months after the departure of Yusuf from Persia a solitary rider on
a swift dromedary reached the extreme northern boundary of El Hejaz, the
province that stretches over a considerable portion of western Arabia.
His face was brown like leather from exposure, and his clothes were worn
and travel-stained, yet it scarcely required a second glance to
recognize the glittering eyes of the Magian priest.
It seemed as if the excitement of danger and the long days of toil and
privation had at last begun to tell upon his iron frame. His eye,
accustomed by the fear of robbers to dart its dark glances restlessly,
was less keen than usual; his head was drooped downward upon his breast,
and his whole attitude betokened bodily fatigue. His camel, too, went
less swiftly, and picked its way, with low, plaintive moans, over the
rough and precipitous path which led into a wild and weird glen.
It was evening, and the shadows fell in fantastic streaks and blotches
across the arid valley, through whose barren soil huge, detached rocks
of various-colored sandstone rose in eerie, irregular masses, veritable
castles of genii of the uncanny spot.
Yusuf looked uneasily around, but neither sight nor sound of life was
near, and he again allowed his faithful beast to slacken its pace and
crop a few leaves of the coarse camel-thorn, the only sign of vegetation
in the deserted place.
A few trees, however, could be seen in the distance, and he urged his
camel towards them in the hope of finding some water, and some dates for
food. Reaching the spot, he found that a stagnant pool lay below, but
there were no dates on the trees, and the water was brackish. A couple
of red-legged partridges fluttered off, cackling loudly as they went. He
would fain have had them for food, but their presence seemed like
company to the poor wanderer, and he did not attempt to secure them; so,
throwing himself at full length on the ground, he flung his arms across
his eyes to shield them from the white glare of the sky.
Suddenly a step sounded near. Yusuf started to his feet and grasped his
scimitar, but he was instantly beset by half a dozen wild Arabs, who
dashed upon him, screaming their wild Arabian jargon, and waving their
short swords over their heads.
Blows fell thick and fast. Yusuf had a dazed consciousness of seeing the
swarthy, wrinkled visages and gleaming teeth of his opponents darting in
confusion before him, of hacking desperately, and of receiving blows on
the head; then a sudden gush of blood from a wound on his forehead
blinded him, and he fell.
All seemed over. But a shout sounded close at hand. Several Arabs,
splendidly mounted on nimble Arabian horses, and waving their long,
tufted spears, appeared on the scene. The Bedouin robbers fled
precipitately, and Yusuf's first sensation was that of being gently
raised, and of feeling water from the pool dashed upon his face.
The priest had not been severely wounded, and soon recovered enough to
proceed with the party which had rendered him such timely aid.
An hour's ride brought them to the head of another and more fertile glen
or wady, through which a mountain stream wended its way between two
bands of tolerably good pasturage. A full moon in all its brilliancy was
just rising. Its cold, clear light flooded the wady, bringing out every
feature of the landscape with remarkable distinctness. At some distance
lay a group of tents, black, and pitched in a circle, as the tents of
the Bedouins usually are. Camp-fires studded the valley with glints of
red; and the barking of dogs and shouts of men arose on the night air
above the hoarse moanings of the camels. Yusuf was indeed glad to see
evidences of Arab civilization, and to look forward to the prospect of a
good supper and a friendly bed.
The return of the party was now noticed by the men of the encampment. A
group of horsemen, also armed with long spears tufted with ostrich
feathers, left the tents and came riding swiftly and gracefully towards
their returning companions.
An explanation of Yusuf's sorrowful plight was given, and he was
conducted to the tent of the Sheikh, which was marked by being larger
than the rest, and situated in the center of the circle, with a spear
placed upright in the ground before the door.
The Sheikh himself received the stranger at the door of his tent. He was
a middle-aged man, of tall and commanding appearance, though the scowl
habitual to the Bedouins by reason of their constant exposure to the
sun, rested upon his face. He wore a kufiyah, or kerchief, of red and
yellow on his head, the ends falling on his shoulders behind in a
crimson fringe. His hair was black and greased, and his eyes, though
piercing, were not unkindly. His person was thin and muscular, but he
wore gracefully the long abba or outer cloak, white and embroidered,
which opened in front, disclosing an undergarment of figured muslin,
bound by a crimson sash. And there was native grace in every movement
when he came courteously forward and saluted Yusuf with the "Peace be
with you" of the Arabs. He then extended his hand to help the traveler
to dismount, and led him into the tent.
"Friend," he said, "a long journey and a close acquaintance with death
are, methinks, a good preparation for the enjoyment of Bedouin
hospitality, which, we sincerely hope, shall not be lacking in the tents
of Musa. Yet, in truth, it seems to us that thou art a fool-hardy man to
tempt the dangers of El Hejaz single-handed."
"So it has proved," returned the priest; "but a Persian, no more than an
Arab, will draw back at the first scent of danger. Yet I deplore these
delays, which but hinder me on my way. I had hoped long ere this to be
at the end of my journey."
"We will hear all this later," returned the Bedouin with quiet dignity;
"for the present, suffice it to keep quiet and let us wash this blood
from your hair. Hither, Aswan! Bring warm water, knave, and let the
traveler know that the Arab's heart is warm too. Now, friend-stranger,
rest upon these cushions, and talk later, if it please you."
With little enough reluctance, Yusuf lay down upon the pile of rugs and
cushions, and, while the attendants bathed his brow, looked somewhat
curiously about him.
[Illustration: He stood with upraised arms, gazing into the depths of
the sky.--See page 2.]
By the light of a dim lamp and a torch or two, he could see that the
tent was divided into two parts, as are all Bedouin tents, by a central
curtain. This curtain was occasionally twitched aside far enough to
reveal a pair of black eyes, and, from the softness of the voices which
sounded from time to time behind the folds, he surmised correctly that
this apartment belonged to the chief's women.
Several men entered the tent, all swarthy, lithe and sinewy, with the
scowling faces and even, white teeth characteristic of the typical Arab.
They gesticulated constantly as they talked; but Yusuf, though
thoroughly familiar with the Arabic language, paid little attention to
the conversation, giving himself up to what seemed to him, after his
adventures, perfect rest.
Presently the chief's wife entered. She was unveiled, and her features
were distinctly Hebrew; for Lois, wife of the Bedouin Musa, had been
born a Jewess. She was dressed in a flowing robe of black confined by a
crimson girdle. Strings of coins and of blue opaque beads hung upon her
breast and were wound about her ankles, and she wore a black head-dress
also profusely decorated with beads and bangles of silver.
On a platter she carried some cakes, still smoking hot. These she placed
on a low, circular table of copper. A wooden platter of boiled mutton
was next added, along with a caldron filled with wheat boiled in camel's
milk, and some cups of coffee.
Yusuf was placed at the table, and Musa, after sipping a little coffee,
handed the cup to him; the chief then picked out the most savory bits of
mutton, and, according to Arabian etiquette, handed them to his guest.
Several men gathered around to partake of the banquet. They crouched or
reclined on the ground, about the low table; yet, savage-looking though
they were, not one of the Bedouins ventured an inquisitive question or
bestowed a curious glance on the Persian.
Among them, however, was a little, inquisitive-looking man, whose quick,
bird-like movements attracted Yusuf's attention early in the evening.
His round black eyes darted into every place and upon every one with an
insatiable curiosity, and he talked almost incessantly. He was a Jewish
peddler who traded small wares with the Arabs, and who was constantly
somewhere on the road between Syria and Yemen, being liable to appear
suddenly at the most mysterious times, and in the most unlikely places.
In his way, Abraham of Joppa was a character, and one may be pardoned
for bestowing more than a passing glance upon him. Though permitted to
eat at the table with the rest, it was evident that the Arabs looked
upon him with some contempt. They enjoyed listening to his stories, and
to his recital of the news which he picked up in his travels, but they
despised his inquisitiveness, and resented the impertinence with which
he coolly addressed himself even to the Sheikh, before whom all were
more or less reserved.
The Persian was, for the present, the chief object of the little Jew's
curiosity, and as soon as the meal was over he hastened to form his
acquaintance.
Sitting down before the priest, and poising his head on one side, he
observed:
"You are bound for the south, stranger?"
"Even so," said Yusuf, gravely.
"Whither?"
"I seek for the city of the great temple."
"Phut! The Caaba!" exclaimed the Jew, with contempt. "Right well I know
it, and a fool's game they make of it, with their running, and bowing,
and kissing a bit of stone in the wall as though 'twere the dearest
friend on earth!"
"But they worship--"
"A statue of our father Abraham, and one of Ishmael, principally. A
precious set of idolaters they all are, to be sure!"
Yusuf's heart sank. Was it only for this that he had come his long and
weary way, had braved the heat of day and the untold dangers of night?
In searching for that pure essence, the spiritual, that he craved, had
he left the idolatrous leaven at home only to come to another form of it
in Mecca?
"But then," he thought, "this foolish Jew knows not whereof he speaks:
one with the empty brain and the loose tongue of this wanderer has not
probed the depths of divine truth."
"You cannot be going to Mecca as a pilgrim?" hazarded the little man.
"The Magians and the Sabaeans worship the stars, do they not?"
"Alas, yes!" said the priest. "They have fallen away from the ancient
belief. They worship even the stars themselves, and have set up images
to them, no longer perceiving the Great Invisible, the Infinite, who can
be approached only through the mediation of the spirits who inhabit the
starry orbs."
"Methinks you will find little better in Mecca. What are you going there
for?" asked the Jew abruptly.
"I seek Truth," replied the priest quietly.
"Truth!" repeated the Jew. "Aye, aye, the Persian traveler seeks truth;
Abraham, the Jew, seeks myrrh, aloes, sweet perfumes of Yemen, silks of
India, and purple of Tyre. Aye, so it is, and I think Abraham's
commodity is the more obtainable and the more practical of the two. Yet
they do say there are Jews who have sought for truth likewise; and they
tell of apostles who gave up their trade and fisheries to go on a like
quest after a leader whom many Jews will not accept."
"Who were the apostles?"
"Oh, Jews, of course."
"Where may I find them?"
"All dead, well-nigh six hundred years ago," returned the Jew,
indifferently.
Yusuf's hopes sank again. He longed for even one kindred spirit to whom
he could unfold the thoughts that harassed him.
"I do not know much about what they taught," continued the Jew. "Never
read it; it does not help in my business. But I got a bit of manuscript
the other day from Sergius, an old Nestorian monk away up in the Syrian
hills. I am taking it down to Mecca. I just peeped into it, but did not
read it; because it is the people who live now, who have gold and silver
for Abraham, that interest him, not those who died centuries ago; and
the bit of writing is about such. However, you seem to be interested
that way, so I will give it to you to read."
So saying, the Jew unpacked a heavy bundle, and, after searching for
some time, upsetting tawdry jewelry, kerchiefs, and boxes of perfume,
he at last succeeded in finding the parchment.
He handed it to the Persian. "I hope it may be of use to you, stranger.
Abraham the Jew knows little and cares less for religion, but he would
be sorry to see you bowing with yon heathen Arab herd at Mecca."
"Dog! Son of a dog!"
It was Musa. Able to restrain his passion no longer, he had sprung to
his feet and stood, with flashing eyes and drawn scimitar, in resentment
of the slur on his countrymen.
With a howl of fear, the little Jew sprang through the door and
disappeared in the darkness.
Musa laughed contemptuously.
"Ha, lack-brained cur!" he said, "I would not have hurt him, having
broken bread with him in mine own tent! Yet, friend Persian, one cannot
hear one's own people, and one's own temple, the temple of his fathers,
desecrated by the tongue of a lack-brained Jew trinket-vender."
"You know, then, of this Caaba--of the God they worship there?" asked
the priest.
Musa shook his head, and made a gesture of denial.
"Musa knows little of such things," he replied. "Yet the Caaba is a name
sacred in Arabian tradition, and as such, it suits me ill to hear it on
the tongue of a craven-hearted Jew. In sooth, the coward knave has left
his trumpery bundle all open as it is. I warrant me he will come back
for it in good time."
A dark-haired lad in a striped silk garment here passed through the
tent.
"Hither, Kedar!" called the Sheikh. "Recite for our visitor the story of
Moses."
The lad at once began the story, reciting it in a sort of chant, and
accompanying his words with many a gesture. The company listened
breathlessly, now giving vent to deep groans as the persecution of the
children of Israel was described, now bowing their heads in reverence at
the revelation of the burning bush, now waving their arms in excitement
and starting forward with flashing eyes as the lad pictured the passage
of the Red Sea.
Yusuf had heard some vague account of the story before, but, with the
passionate nature of the Oriental, he was strangely moved as he listened
to the recital of how that great God whom he longed to feel and know had
led the children of Israel through all their wanderings and sufferings
to the promised land. He felt that he too was indeed a wanderer, seeking
the promised land. He was but an infant in the true things of the
Spirit. Like many another who longs vainly for a revelation of the
working of the Holy Spirit, his soul seemed to reach out hopelessly.
But who can tell how tenderly the same All-wise Creator treasures up
every outreaching of the struggling soul! Not one throb of the loving
and longing heart is lost;--and Yusuf was yet, after trial, to rejoice
in the serene fullness of such light as may fall upon this terrestrial
side of death's dividing line.
Poor Yusuf, with all his Persian learning and wisdom, had, through all
his life, known only a religion tinctured with idolatry. Almost alone he
had broken from that idolatry, and realized the unity of God and his
separation from all connected with such worship; but he was yet to
understand the connection of God with man, and to taste the fullness of
God's love through Christ. He had not realized that the finger of God is
upon the life of every man who is willing to yield himself to Divine
direction, and that there is thus an inseparable link between the
Creator and the creature. He was not able to say, as said Carlyle in
these later days, "A divine decree or eternal regulation of the universe
there verily is, in regard to every conceivable procedure and affair of
man; faithfully following this, said procedure or affair will
prosper.... Not following this,... destruction and wreck are certain for
every affair." And what could be better? Divine love, not divine wrath,
over all! Yusuf had an idea of divine wrath, but he failed to
see--because the presentation of the never-failing Fatherhood of God had
not yet come--the infinite love that makes Jesus all in all to us,
heaven wherever he is, and hell wherever he is not.
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