“And I praise that benignant being[[406]] whom a cloud was wont to shade; the comely: how great was his comeliness! He will intercede for us on the day of judgment, when his haters, the vile, the polytheists, shall be repentant. Would that I might always, as long as I live, accompany the pilgrims, to perform the circuits and worship and courses, and live in uninterrupted happiness!”
In translating the first of the above stanzas, I have substituted the feminine for the masculine pronoun; for, in the original, the former is meant, though the latter is used, as is commonly the case in similar compositions of the Egyptians. One of my Muslim friends having just called on me after my writing the above remarks, I read to him the last four stanzas of this ode, and asked him if he considered it proper thus to mix up religion with debauchery. He answered, “Perfectly proper; a man relates his having committed sins, and then prays to God for forgiveness, and blesses the Prophet.”—“But,” said I, “this is an ode written to be chanted for the amusement of persons who take pleasure in unlawful indulgences; and see here, when I close the leaves, the page which celebrates a debauch comes in contact, face to face, with that upon which are written the names of the Deity; the commemoration of the pleasures of sin is placed upon the prayer for forgiveness.” “That is nonsense,” replied my friend; “turn the book over, place that side upwards which is now downwards, and then the case will be the reverse—sin covered by forgiveness; and God, whose name be exalted, hath said in the Excellent Book, ‘Say, O my servants, who have transgressed against your own souls, despair not of the mercy of God, seeing that God forgiveth all sins [unto those who repent], for He is the Very Forgiving, the Merciful.’”[[407]] His answer reminds me of what I have often observed, that the generality of Arabs, a most inconsistent people, are every day breaking their law in some point or other, trusting that two words (“Astaghfir Alláh,” or “I beg forgiveness of God”) will cancel every transgression. He had a copy of the Kur-án in his hand, and on my turning it over to look for the verse he had quoted, I found in it a scrap of paper containing some words from the venerated volume; he was about to burn this piece of paper lest it should fall out and be trodden upon; and on my asking him whether it was allowable to do so, he answered, that it might either be burnt, or thrown into running water; but that it was better to burn it, as the words would ascend in the flames, and be conveyed by angels to heaven. Sometimes the Kur-án is quoted in jest, even by persons of strict religious principles. For instance, the following equivocal and evasive answer was once suggested to me on a person’s asking of me a present of a watch, which, I must previously mention, is called “sá-’ah,” a word which signifies an “hour,” and the “period of the general judgment.”—“Verily, the ‘sá’ah’ shall come: I will surely make it to appear” (chap. xx. ver. 15).
There are often met with, in Egyptian society, persons who will introduce an apposite quotation from the Kur-án or the Traditions of the Prophet in common conversation, whatever be the topic; and an interruption of this kind is not considered, as it would be in general society in our own country, either hypocritical or annoying; but rather occasions expressions, if not feelings, of admiration, and often diverts the hearers from a trivial subject to matters of a more serious nature. The Muslims of Egypt, and, I believe, those of other countries, are generally fond of conversing on religion; and the most prevalent mode of entertaining a party of guests among the higher and middle ranks in this place (Cairo) is the recital of a “khatmeh” (or the whole of the Kur-án), which is chanted by fikees, hired for the purpose; or the performance of a “zikr,” which has been before mentioned. Few persons among them would venture to say, that they prefer hearing a concert of music to the performance of a khatmeh or zikr; and they certainly do take great pleasure in the latter performances. The manner in which the Kur-án is sometimes chanted is, indeed, very pleasing; though I must say, that a complete khatmeh is, to me, extremely tiresome. With the religious zeal of the Muslims, I am daily struck: yet I have often wondered that they so seldom attempt to make converts to their faith. On my expressing my surprise, as I have frequently done, at their indifference with respect to the propagation of their religion, contrasting it with the conduct of their ancestors of the early ages of El-Islám, I have generally been answered—“Of what use would it be if I could convert a thousand infidels? Would it increase the number of the faithful? By no means: the number of the faithful is decreed by God; and no act of man can increase or diminish it.” The contending against such an answer would have led to an interminable dispute: so I never ventured a reply. I have heard quoted, by way of apology for their neglecting to make proselytes, the following words of the Kur-án: “Dispute not against those who have received the Scriptures”[[408]] (namely, the Christians and Jews), without the words immediately following—“unless in the best manner; except against such of them as behave injuriously [towards you]: and say [unto them], We believe in [the revelation] that hath been sent down unto us, and [also in that] which hath been sent down unto you: and our God and your God is one.”[[409]] If this precept were acted upon by the Muslims, it might perhaps lead to disputes which would make them more liberal-minded, and much better informed.
The respect which most modern Muslims pay to their Prophet is almost idolatrous. They very frequently swear by him; and many of the most learned, as well as the ignorant, often implore his intercession. Pilgrims are generally much more affected on visiting his tomb than in performing any other religious rite. There are some Muslims who will not do anything that the Prophet is not recorded to have done: and who particularly abstain from eating anything that he did not eat, though its lawfulness be undoubted. The Imám Ahmad Ibn-Hambal would not even eat water-melons, because, although he knew that the Prophet ate them, he could not learn whether he ate them with or without the rind, or whether he broke, bit, or cut them: and he forbade a woman, who questioned him as to the propriety of the act, to spin by the light of torches passing in the street by night, which were not her own property, because the Prophet had not mentioned whether it was lawful to do so, and was not known to have ever availed himself of a light belonging to another person without that person’s leave.—I once, admiring some very pretty pipe-bowls, asked the maker why he did not stamp them with his name. He answered “God forbid! My name is Ahmad” (one of the names of the Prophet): “would you have me put it in the fire?”—I have heard adduced as one of the subjects of complaint against the present Básha, his causing the camels and horses of the government to be branded with his names, “Mohammad ’Alee.” “In the first place,” said a friend of mine, who mentioned this fact to me, “the iron upon which are engraved these names, names which ought to be so much venerated, the names of the Prophet (God favour and preserve him!), and his Cousin (may God be well pleased with him!), is put into the fire, which is shocking: then it is applied to the neck of a camel; and causes blood, which is impure, to flow, and to pollute the sacred names both upon the iron and upon the animal’s skin: and when the wound is healed, how probable is it, and almost certain and unavoidable, that the camel will, when he lies down, lay his neck upon something unclean!”
A similar feeling is the chief reason why the Muslims object to printing their books. They have scarcely a book (I do not remember to have seen one) that does not contain the name of God: it is a rule among them to commence every book with the words “In the name of God, the Compassionate, the Merciful,” and to begin the preface or introduction by praising God, and blessing the Prophet; and they fear some impurity might be contracted by the ink that is applied to the name of the Deity, in the process of printing, or by the paper to be impressed with that sacred name, and perhaps with words taken from the Kur-án. They fear, also, that their books, becoming very cheap by being printed, would fall into the hands of infidels; and are much shocked at the idea of using a brush composed of hogs’ hair (which was at first done here) to apply the ink to the name, and often to the words, of God. Hence, books have hitherto been printed in Egypt only by order of the government: but two or three persons have lately applied for, and received, permission to make use of the government-press. I am acquainted with a bookseller here who has long been desirous of printing some books which he feels sure would bring him considerable profit; but cannot overcome his scruples as to the lawfulness of doing so.
The honour which the Muslims show to the Kur-án is very striking. They generally take care never to hold it, or suspend it, in such a manner as that it shall be below the girdle; and they deposit it upon a high and clean place; and never put another book, or anything else, on the top of it. On quoting from it, they usually say, “He whose name be exalted” (or “God, whose name be exalted”) “hath said, in the Excellent Book.” They consider it extremely improper that the sacred volume should be touched by a Christian or a Jew, or any other person not a believer in its doctrines; though some of them are induced, by covetousness, but very rarely, to sell copies of it to such persons. It is even forbidden to the Muslim to touch it unless he be in a state of legal purity; and hence, these words of the book itself—“None shall touch it but they who are purified”[[410]]—are often stamped upon the cover. The same remarks apply, also, to anything upon which is inscribed a passage of the Kur-án. It is remarkable, however, that most of the old Arab coins bear inscriptions of words from the Kur-án, or else the testimony of the faith (“There is no deity but God: Mohammad is God’s Apostle”); notwithstanding they were intended for the use of Jews and Christians, as well as Muslims: but I have heard this practice severely condemned.—On my once asking one of my Muslim friends whether figs were esteemed wholesome in Egypt, he answered, “Is not the fig celebrated in the Kur-án? God swears by it: ‘By the fig and the olive!’” (chap. xcv., ver. 1).
There is certainly much enthusiastic piety in the character of the modern Muslims, notwithstanding their inconsistencies and superstitions: such, at least, is generally the case. There are, I believe, very few professed Muslims who are really unbelievers; and these dare not openly declare their unbelief, through fear of losing their heads for their apostasy. I have heard of two or three such, who have been rendered so by long and intimate intercourse with Europeans; and have met with one materialist, who has often had long discussions with me. In preceding chapters of this work, several practices indicative of the religious feeling which prevails among the Muslims of Egypt have been incidentally mentioned. Religious appeals are generally used by the beggars in this country: some examples of these will be given hereafter. Of a similar nature, also, are the cries of many of the persons who sell vegetables, etc. The cry of the nightly watchman in the quarter in which I lived in Cairo during my first visit struck me as remarkable for its beauty and sublimity—“I extol the perfection of the living King, who sleepeth not nor dieth.” The present watchman, in the same quarter, exclaims, “O Lord! O Everlasting!” Many other illustrations of the religious character of the people whom I am endeavouring to portray might be added. I must, however, here acknowledge, that religion has much declined among them and most others of the same faith. Whoever has been in the habit of conversing familiarly with the modern Muslims must often have heard them remark, with a sigh, “It is the end of time!”—“The world has fallen into infidelity.”—They are convinced that the present state of their religion is a proof that the end of the world is near. The mention which I have made, in a former chapter, of some of the tenets of the Wahhábees, as being those of the primitive Muslims, shows how much the generality of the modern professors of the faith of the Kur-án have deviated from the precepts originally delivered to its disciples.
Influenced by their belief in predestination, the men display, in times of distressing uncertainty, an exemplary patience, and, after any afflicting event, a remarkable degree of resignation and fortitude, approaching nearly to apathy;[[411]] generally exhibiting their sorrow only by a sigh, and the exclamation of “Allah kereem!” (God is bountiful!)—but the women, on the contrary, give vent to their grief by the most extravagant cries and shrieks. While the Christian blames himself for every untoward event which he thinks he has brought upon himself, or might have avoided, the Muslim enjoys a remarkable serenity of mind in all the vicissitudes of life. When he sees his end approaching, his resignation is still conspicuous: he exclaims, “Verily to God we belong; and verily to Him we return!” and to those who inquire respecting his state, in general his reply is, “Praise be to God! Our Lord is bountiful!”—His belief in predestination does not, however, prevent his taking any step to attain an object that he may have in view; not being perfectly absolute, or unconditional: nor does it in general make him careless of avoiding danger; for he thinks himself forbidden to do so by these words of the Kur-án,[[412]] “Throw not yourselves[[413]] into perdition;” excepting in some cases; as in those of pestilence and other sicknesses; being commanded, by the Prophet, not to go into a city where there is a pestilence, nor to come out from it. The lawfulness of quarantine is contested among Muslims; but the generality of them condemn it.
The same belief in predestination renders the Muslim utterly devoid of presumption with regard to his future actions, or to any future events. He never speaks of anything that he intends to do, or of any circumstance which he expects and hopes may come to pass, without adding, “If it be the will of God;” and, in like manner, in speaking of a past event of which he is not certain, he generally prefaces or concludes what he says with the expression “God is all-knowing”[all-knowing”] (or, “— most knowing.”).
Benevolence and charity to the poor are virtues which the Egyptians possess in an eminent degree, and which are instilled into their hearts by religion; but from their own profession it appears that they are as much excited to the giving of alms by the expectation of enjoying corresponding rewards in heaven, as by pity for the distresses of their fellow-creatures, or a disinterested wish to do the will of God. It may be attributed, in some measure, to the charitable disposition of the inhabitants, that beggars are so numerous in Cairo. The many handsome “Sebeels,” or public fountains (buildings erected and endowed for the gratuitous supply of water to passengers), which are seen in this city, and the more humble structures of the same kind in the villages and fields, are monuments of the same virtue.