The God of men,
From the evil of the whisperings of the slinking devil,
Who whispers into the hearts of men,
From among the Jinn and the men,”
and who conceived the charming fantasy that the lengthened shadows of morning and evening are elongated in obeisance to Allah, was also capable many years later of concocting an effusion designed expressly to make his wives behave themselves.
IV
“A PROPHET IS NOT WITHOUT HONOR”
I
Islam, the doctrine of “resignation to God,” was now started on its way; but mystery hovers over every stage of the journey. The various explanations that have been devised to account for its marvelously rapid development have commonly just enough plausibility to make them romantically misleading; for the charm of a half-truth lies in its Lethean amalgamation of realism and fancy: it displays neither the dulness of unadorned fact nor the superficiality of exotic fabrication. In recent times Mohammed and his era have inevitably been subjected to treatment according to principles derived from the “scientific method.” Now, while it is unquestionably true that a large amount of invaluable information has been accumulated thus, it is also true that the excessive use of this method has given rise to some definite dangers—dangers that are all the more alluring and deceptive because they bear the stamp of contemporary approval. For one thing, its adherents often lack the ability to apply the principle to their own mental processes: they sometimes manifest a bias as essentially unscientific as the fervent prayer of the most benighted Moslem. For another thing, its devotees frequently dispute among themselves over the validity of its countless ramifications with an enthusiasm unexcelled by political fanatics; and, for still another thing, the method itself is as much a product of conditions peculiar to the so-called Modern World as Islamism was a logical excrescence of the deplorable Dark Ages.
Although Mohammed’s parents died so early as to deprive the Freudians of the opportunity to dissect him in a manner compatible with the most cherished articles of their faith, other not wholly dissimilar schools of thought have not failed to wield their scalpels—oftentimes with very considerable effect. For example, those who look upon him as a largely self-conscious medium who was extraordinarily skillful and successful in employing the cabalistic devices used by mediums as a class, have much to warrant their belief. The evidence extant in support of this view, in fact, merits respect if not complete acceptance. For the whole business of Allah, and Gabriel, and the magical tablets—whose precious contents none but Mohammed might gaze upon, and he only at infrequent intervals—is, to say the least, very intriguing. The problem that fronts all mediums is this: how to produce their messages without arousing the suspicion that they themselves are the authors; and innumerable devices are used to attain this end. It has been suggested that the Prophet himself may have solved the problem by a subtly clever device—his known susceptibility to epileptic fits. Before giving vent to one of Allah’s inditements, he would snore, cover himself with a blanket, and remain thus until, drenched with sweat, he emerged and gave his message. One traditional account runs thus: “He fell to the ground like an inebriate, or one overcome by sleep; and in the coldest day his forehead would be bedewed with large drops of perspiration. Even his she-camel, if he chanced to become inspired while mounted on her, would be affected by a wild excitement, sitting down and rising up, now planting her legs rigidly, then throwing them about as if they would be parted from her.” In the earlier Koran, he is characterized as the “man in the blanket,” or the “man who is wrapped up.” For he fully appreciated the necessity of keeping his followers in a state of protracted mystification, and to that end he made use of many theatrical tricks. He would drum up a crowd with his ludicrous snortings and puffings until the resounding cry, “Inspiration hath descended on the Prophet!” assured him that he had a sufficiently large audience to warrant the ebullition of a new Sura. While in a room that was obviously empty, he declared that all the seats were occupied by angels; he cultivated a suave and benign expression; he flattered and astounded his adherents by telling them intimately personal facts about themselves which he had presumably acquired through private information; he took the most painstaking care of his person—painted his eyes and perfumed his entire body every day, wore his hair long and probably dyed it when it became gray, and there is reason to believe that he always wore a veil. Eventually, he so perfected his technique that he could throw a cataleptic fit and produce a message without any previous preparation. In the midst of a meal he would contort himself, disgorge a new injunction, and then calmly finish his dinner.