and, finally, the absurdity of ignorance having reached its culmination, he was described as a camel-thief, and an apostate cardinal who preached a spurious doctrine through envy, because he had failed to reach the coveted dignity of Pope! Motives of ecclesiastical jealousy and religious intolerance led also to the suppression of information and the falsification of truth respecting the Koran. Hardly one person in ten thousand has read a translation of it; indeed, this feat has been repeatedly declared an impossibility, on account of the monotonous and prosaic character of its contents; nor has one foreigner in a million perused the original, which, it may be added, cannot be appropriately rendered into another tongue. No complete rendition of this famous book into a living language was made for eleven hundred years after the death of Mohammed, and to-day not more than a dozen versions, all told, exist. It has been, moreover, a rule, subject to but few exceptions and those of recent date, that translations, commentaries, and analyses of the Koran, edited by misbelievers, have been written with the express design of casting odium upon the Prophet and his followers. Under such unfavorable circumstances, an impartial examination of the doctrines of Islam was impossible to one not versed in Arabic, and the public mind, which received its impression of such subjects largely from the pulpit, obstinately refused to consider any view which was at variance with its preconceived opinions. To obtain a competent idea of the principles, the virtues, and the defects of the religion which he established, it will not be unprofitable to glance for a moment at the salient points of the career and character of this wonderful man, the most prominent of his country, and the most illustrious of his race.
Among the ancient tribes of Arabia, highest in rank, most esteemed for intelligence and courage in a nation of poets and warriors, and renowned for a generous hospitality, was that of the Koreish, the hereditary guardians of the temple of Mecca. Proud of their distinguished ancestry and of the exalted position they enjoyed by reason of their office, which its religious functions invested with a dignity not inferior to that of royalty itself, and superior to all other employments in a country where the jealous independence of the people precluded the exercise of kingly power, the influence of the Koreish over their countrymen was unbounded. The annual pilgrimage to the Bait-Allah, or “House of God,” when hostilities were suspended, and devotees and merchants, rhymers and thieves, met upon a common equality in the enclosure of the temple—an occasion which is said to have called together the brightest minds of the Peninsula to contend in friendly rivalry for the prize of literary distinction—was the most important event of the year to the Arabian, and was particularly advantageous to the perpetuation of the wealth and authority of the Koreish. Some of the tribe enjoyed the exclusive privilege of distributing water and provisions among the pilgrims during their sojourn in the Holy City—an employment originally gratuitous, but afterwards a lucrative monopoly; others had charge of the buildings of the shrine; others, again, were the custodians of the sacred banner, which was only raised upon the occasion of the annual re-union of the Kaaba, or when the safety of Mecca was threatened by war or sedition. The Koreish, moreover, aspired to a state of petty sovereignty; they despatched embassies to the neighboring tribes, made treaties, established regulations for the departure and arrival of caravans, which secured an organized, and consequently a more safe and profitable, traffic with surrounding nations, and exercised a nominal jurisdiction in both civil and religious matters over the entire Peninsula. Elated by their success, and by the homage universally paid them, they boldly abrogated many of the ancient ceremonies connected with the national worship, and substituted others better calculated for the advancement of their pecuniary interests or the gratification of their political ambition. Some of these new regulations were unjust, and, as may be easily conjectured, were accepted with great reluctance by a population so opposed to innovation and impatient of restraint as that of Arabia; and the fact that they were adopted without serious disturbance shows conclusively that the attachment of the Arab to the gods of his country bore no approximate ratio to the awe with which he regarded their powerful guardians. In time, however, the rivalry of influential chieftains of the various divisions of the tribe produced mutual distrust and enmity; dissensions became frequent, and the national influence of the Koreish, which the hearty co-operation of their leaders could alone sustain, began to be seriously impaired.
Of one of the haughtiest clans of this distinguished tribe—the Beni-Hashem—was born, in the year 570 of the Christian era, Mohammed, known to misbelievers as the False Prophet, and to the Moslems as the Messenger of God. A strange fatality, which is evidently based upon something more substantial than the uncertain authority of tradition, appears to have attended his family both before and after his birth. The household of his grandfather, Abd-al-Muttalib, although it contained several daughters, could boast of only one son,—a circumstance which, to a man of noble birth, in a country like Arabia, where a chieftain’s consideration was founded upon the number of his male descendants, where female relatives were classed with camels and horses as chattels, and were often buried alive to get rid of them, was looked upon as a disgrace as well as a misfortune. In bitterness of spirit, the sheik betook himself to the Kaaba, and invoked the aid of Hobal, the presiding genius of the assembled deities of the nation. At the conclusion of his supplications he promised that, if ten sons should be born to him, one of them should be sacrificed upon the altar of the god. The prayer was answered, and in due time inexorable religious obligation demanded the fulfilment of the vow. Accompanied by his sons, Abd-al-Muttalib again approached the shrine of Hobal, and the customary lots having been cast, the god made choice of Abdallah, who subsequently became the father of Mohammed. Abdallah was the favorite of his parents and the idol of his kindred; his manners possessed a rare fascination; he excelled the most accomplished of his tribe in the arts of poetry and eloquence, and his manly beauty has been celebrated by the extravagant praise of his countrymen. Appalled at the prospect of losing his best-beloved child, Abd-al-Muttalib was in despair, when the shrewdness of a female diviner proposed an ingenious solution of the difficulty. The established compensation for homicide, when the injured family was willing to accept one, was ten camels; and the prophetess suggested that Abd-al-Muttalib again consult the deity, in the hope that he might be propitious and consent to receive the less valuable sacrifice. The mystic arrows were once more shaken and drawn, and, for the second time, Abdallah was devoted to death. The father doubled the number of camels with the same result; but, nothing daunted, persevered until the tenth lot had been drawn, when the god deigned to accept the costly ransom. Thus upon the cast of a die depended the regeneration of the Arabian people, the conquest and subversion of the Byzantine and Persian empires, the impulse of modern scientific inquiry, and the future hopes of the Moslem world!
Mohammed was a posthumous child. His father died while on a journey to Medina, and left to his widow Amina little save the memory of his domestic virtues, and a reputation for manly courage and unblemished integrity. The boy passed his early years, as was the custom at Mecca, with one of the tribes of the Desert, where the coarse fare and active life of the Bedouin developed and strengthened a frame naturally robust and vigorous. At the age of five he returned to his mother’s home, where, within a few months, he was left an orphan. His grandfather Abd-al-Muttalib then took charge of him until the death of the former two years afterwards, when Mohammed was taken into the family of his uncle Abu-Talib. The successive bereavements of relatives to whom he was devotedly attached had no small effect in determining the character of the future Prophet, already thoughtful and reserved beyond his years, and imparted a permanent tinge of sadness to his life. When he grew older he was employed by his uncle as a shepherd, an occupation considered by the Arabs as degrading, and only proper to be exercised by slaves and women. In his twenty-sixth year his handsome face and figure, and his reputation for honesty, which had acquired for him the flattering title of Al-Amin, “The Faithful,” attracted the attention of Khadijah, a wealthy widow and a distant relative, who made him a proposal of marriage, which he accepted. Khadijah was forty years old, and had already been twice married; yet for twenty-five years which intervened before her death—and long after she must have lost her attractiveness—Mohammed never failed in the duties of a constant and affectionate husband. She bore him six children, four girls and two boys, of whom the daughters alone survived the period of infancy. When he reached the age of forty, a great change came over Mohammed, and there appeared the first positive indication of his aversion to the established worship of his country. His mother, who seems to have been a woman of highly excitable temperament, had transmitted to him a hypersensitive condition of the nervous system, which developed occasional attacks of muscular hysteria, a disease rarely affecting the masculine sex. Long accustomed to abstinence, contemplation, and revery, he contracted the habit of seeking solitude, to muse upon the moral condition of himself and his countrymen; and as he grew older, and especially after his fortunate marriage had removed the necessity for labor, the passion for dreaming grew upon him. He often betook himself to Mount Hira, where a recluse once had his abode; and for days at a time, with but little food and depriving himself of sleep, in tears and mental agony, he strove to solve the problem of divine truth. As continued fasting, excitement, and solitude inevitably produce hallucinations, it was not long before Mohammed believed himself visited by an angel, the bearer of celestial tidings. Doubtful at first of the significance of these startling visions, and in his enfeebled condition easily terrified, he fancied he was possessed by devils, and was almost driven to suicide. Finally, mastering his emotion, he returned to Mecca, and from that time visitations of the angel—who declared himself to be Gabriel—were frequent. In the original revelation, Mohammed was addressed as the “Messenger of Allah,” and was directed to preach the unity of God to his erring and misguided countrymen. His converts in the beginning were very few and composed of the members of his own family, his wife being the first believer. The new doctrines made slow progress; apprehension of the summary interference of the ruling powers made the proselytes cautious, and they rehearsed its texts behind locked doors and in the most private apartments of their houses. At the expiration of four years the adherents of Islam had only reached the insignificant number of thirty-nine souls. But now Mohammed grew bolder; expounded his doctrines before the Kaaba itself; openly advocated the destruction of idols, and denounced the unbelieving Arabs as devoted to the horrors of everlasting fire. The impassioned oratory of the Great Reformer had at first no appreciable effect. Most of his auditors regarded him as under the influence of an evil spirit; some ridiculed, others reviled him; but respect for his family and a wholesome dread of blood-revenge protected him from serious violence. In vain did he depict in words of thrilling eloquence the joys of heaven and the tortures of hell; his exhortations were lost upon the skeptical Arab, whose religion was a matter of hereditary custom, and who, in common with the other members of the Semitic race, had no belief in an existence beyond the grave. At length his denunciations became so furious as to raise apprehensions among the Koreish that their political supremacy, as well as the lucrative employments of their offices, might be endangered. A solemn deputation of the chiefs of the tribe waited upon Abu-Talib, the head of the family to which Mohammed belonged, and demanded that the daring apostate should be delivered over to their vengeance. This Abu-Talib, although himself an idolater, without hesitation, declined to do, and, in consequence of his refusal, the entire clan of the Beni-Hashem was placed under an interdict. No one would trade or associate with its members, and for two years they were imprisoned in a quarter of the city by themselves, where they endured great hardships. Nothing can exhibit more prominently the family attachment of the Arab and his high sense of honor than the self-sacrifice implied by this event, for it must not be forgotten that the large majority of those who suffered with Mohammed had no confidence in the truth of his mission, but were still devoted to the idolatrous and barbarous rites of the ancient faith.
The cause of Islam had received a severe blow, and the threats and armed hostility of its adversaries boded ill for its future success. The Moslems who did not belong to the Koreish sought refuge with the Christian king of Abyssinia, who peremptorily refused to surrender them upon the demand of an embassy from Mecca. At length, through very shame, the interdict was removed; the members of the imprisoned band came forth once more to mingle with their townsmen, and the exiles were permitted to return in peace. But persecution had not intimidated Mohammed, and his condemnation of idolatry and its supporters increased in violence. His uncle and protector, Abu-Talib, having died, his position daily became more critical. A fortunate occurrence, however, soon opened an avenue of escape. Some years before, a handful of the people of Medina had secretly embraced his doctrines and sworn fealty to him as their temporal sovereign. Their numbers had greatly increased, and now, in acceptance of an invitation tendered him by these zealous proselytes, Mohammed prepared to withdraw from the midst of his enemies to the proffered asylum at Medina. The inhabitants of the latter city, who were principally agriculturists, were heartily despised by the Meccans, who considered every occupation but those of war, plunder, and the cheating of pilgrims derogatory to the dignity of an Arab. The irreconcilable rivalry between the two principal towns of the Hedjaz had much to do with the adoption of Islam by the Medinese. The influence of the numerous Jews of Medina had materially affected the religion of that locality, and their predictions of the speedy coming of the Messiah, and the bestowal of the possessions of the Gentiles upon his chosen people, had attracted the attention, and at times aroused the fears, of the idolaters of that city. When, therefore, the report was circulated that a prophet had arisen at Mecca, the Medinese naturally concluded that he must be the Messiah expected by the Hebrews, and they determined to forestall the latter by being the first to extend to him a welcome, and thereby secure his favor. It was from these motives that the alliance between Mohammed and the citizens of Medina was concluded; an alliance whose results were little anticipated by the parties to its provisions, and whose importance has been disclosed by the portentous events of many subsequent centuries. Intelligence of this proceeding having reached the Koreish, they prepared for decisive measures, and held a meeting, in which, without apparently taking any precautions to conceal their design, the assassination of Mohammed was resolved upon. The latter, having received timely warning, escaped by night, with his friend Abu-Bekr, and, concealed in a cave in the mountains, eluded the vigilance of his enemies until a few days afterwards they found means to reach Medina. This event occurred in the year 622 A.D., and, marking the era of the Hegira or “Flight,” is, as is well known, the starting-point of Moslem chronology. Its usefulness, however, anticipated its legality for three hundred years, and it was not publicly authorized by law until the tenth century.
On his arrival, the first care of the Prophet was the erection of a mosque and the institution and arrangement of the ritual of Islam; the next, the reconciliation of the two hostile Arab factions whose tumults kept the city in an uproar; and the third—the only task in which he was unsuccessful—the conversion of the Jews. Hardly was he domiciled at Medina before he abandoned the continence which had hitherto adorned his life and placed his character in such a favorable light when compared with the excesses of his libidinous countrymen, and by degrees increased his harem until it numbered, including wives and concubines, nearly a score of women. And now appeared also other changes of a religious and political nature, when the humility and patience of the preacher were eclipsed by the ambitious plans of the sovereign, eventually realized in the proselytism of entire nations and the intoxication and glory of foreign conquest. The employment of force had never been mentioned at Mecca, but the vexations, contempt, and ill-usage of years had borne bitter fruit, and at Medina was received the first revelation commanding the propagation of Islam by the sword. At first desultory attacks were made upon caravans; then followed the engagement of Bedr, where three hundred believers defeated a thousand of the Koreish, and the battle of Ohod, which ended with the wounding of Mohammed and the total rout of the Moslem army. The blockade of Medina, undertaken three years later by the chiefs of Mecca, ended disastrously for them, as the fiery Arab could not be brought to endure the restraint and inactivity incident to the protracted operations of a siege. Next came the expulsion of the disaffected Jews from the city, a measure not unattended by acts of injustice and sanguinary violence, but imperatively demanded by the requirements of political necessity. The power and prestige of Mohammed now grew apace; tribe after tribe joined his standard; distant princes sent him costly gifts and voluntarily tendered their allegiance; and in the year 630—the eighth of the Hegira—he prepared for the invasion of the sacred territory and the conquest of Mecca. Only a short time before, guarded by two faithful companions, he had fled from the Holy City with a reward of a hundred camels and forty ounces of gold upon his head; now he returned in royal state, at the head of ten thousand warriors, most of whom would have gladly laid down their lives at his command, and all of whom acknowledged him to be the Apostle of God. Before this imposing array, inspired with the fervor of religious enthusiasm, resistance was hopeless. The people fled to their houses and to the sanctuary of the temple, and the invading army occupied the city. The rights and property of the citizens were respected; there was no massacre and no pillage; no violence was offered, except to the images of the Kaaba, which were shattered to pieces without delay or opposition, for the idolaters viewed with but little emotion the destruction of the tutelary deities of many generations, whose inability to protect their worshippers had been so signally demonstrated. With a magnanimity unequalled in the annals of war, a general amnesty was proclaimed, and but four persons, whose offences were considered unpardonable, suffered the penalty of death. When the various ceremonies consecrated by the usage of centuries and destined henceforth to form an integral part of the Moslem ritual had been accomplished, and the Pagan altars in the vicinity of Mecca had been swept away, Mohammed set forth to subdue the remaining tribes that disputed his authority. A single battle sufficed; Tayif, the sole important stronghold that still held out, voluntarily submitted after an unsuccessful siege; and the supremacy of the Prophet was henceforth acknowledged over the Arabian Peninsula. Three months after the subjugation of Mecca, Mohammed, who already seemed to have had a presentiment of his approaching end, accompanied by an immense multitude, performed the pilgrimage which his teachings enjoined as an indispensable duty upon all his followers. Leaving Mecca for the last time, he slowly retraced his steps to the home of his adoption, whose people, more generous than his kinsmen, had received and protected him when a persecuted fugitive, whose factions he had reconciled, who were proud of his renown, and who, despite his kindness and the natural urbanity of his manners, never failed to approach his presence with all the reverential awe due to the possessor of divine favor and supernatural powers. His constitution, though originally fortified by abstinence and a simple diet, had for years given evidence of debility and decay, for his health had been seriously impaired by poison administered by a Jewish captive, whom his magnanimous spirit refused to punish; and, after a short illness, he expired in the arms of his favorite wife, Ayesha, upon the eighth of June, 632.
There have been few great actors upon the stage of the world the events of whose lives have been so carefully preserved as those of Mohammed, although no native contemporaneous writer has recorded his history. And yet there is no man whose talents raised him to extraordinary eminence whose deeds and whose character are so unfamiliar to Christian readers as his. Few know him but as a successful impostor. Many believe him to have been an idolater. Almost all attribute to him indulgence in the most degrading of vices,—cruelty, avarice, licentiousness. Even Christian viceroys who have lived long in Mohammedan countries know nothing of the doctrines and the career of one of the most renowned of reformers and legislators. His personal appearance, his occupations, his tastes, his weaknesses even—a strong proof of the honesty and credibility of the Mussulman narrators—have been related by the latter with scrupulous minuteness. His sayings and the opinions attributed to him, embodied in the Sunnah, are considered by devout Moslems as second only in sanctity to the verses of the Koran, and have given rise to the amazing number of six hundred thousand traditions, which laborious commentators have seen proper, upon doubtful evidence, to reduce to four thousand that may be relied upon as genuine. The study of the Koran, however, affords a better insight into the character of the Prophet than the uncertain and suspicious testimony of the Sunnah. It is the mirror in which are reflected the sincere convictions, the lofty aims, the political experiments, the domestic troubles, the hopes and apprehensions which, through many trials and perplexities, influenced the mind and directed the movements of the author in his career, from the position of a simple citizen of Mecca to the exalted dignity of sole ruler of Arabia. The estimate of Mohammed in the Sunnah, which has been transmitted by his early associates, who knew him well and daily observed his conduct in the time of his obscurity, is nevertheless entitled to far more credit than any opinion that may have been formed without the assistance of tradition by the most capable scholar after the lapse of even a single century. But unfortunately, in many instances, their accounts have been so corrupted by the fabulous embellishments of subsequent commentators as to detract much from their undoubted historical value.
The most conspicuous trait of Mohammed was his absolute inflexibility of purpose. From the hour when he first communicated to Khadijah his belief in his mission, through the long and weary years of mockery, persecution, conspiracy, and exile, during the even more trying period of prosperity and empire, up to the sad final scene in the house of Ayesha, he persevered unflinchingly in the plan which he had proposed for his guidance, and which had for its end the abolition of idolatry, the improvement of his countrymen, and the establishment of the sublime and philosophical dogma of the unity of God. The only rational explanation that can be given of this remarkable conduct in the midst of difficulties and perils which would have shaken the constancy of a mortal of ordinary mould lies in his evident sincerity. The most convincing evidence of his honesty of purpose, his self-confidence, and his earnest devotion, is furnished by the rank and character of his first disciples, and the reverence with which his teachings were received. The early proselytes of all other religions of which history makes mention were ignorant and uneducated, destitute of worldly possessions, without pride of ancestry or title to public consideration. Their ungrammatical harangues were often heard with derision; their credulity excited the contempt of the philosopher and of the hostile priesthood alike. It was even made a subject of reproach to the first Christians—an accusation, however, never conclusively proved—that their numbers were largely recruited from the criminals, the idlers, and the beggars of the Empire. The origin of modern sects has invariably been obscure, and their proselytes of humble rank and servile occupation. Not so, however, with the early followers of Mohammed. They were members of the proud and exclusive aristocracy of Arabia. Their lineage could be traced, in an unbroken line, for more than six hundred years. Their hereditary office of custodians of the shrine venerated by every tribe of the Peninsula gave them immense prestige among their countrymen. Their interest in the preservation of the national worship would naturally prejudice them against innovations which must inevitably diminish their power and curtail their emoluments. Their wealth was not inferior to their illustrious descent and their political and religious influence. Some of them were included among the most opulent citizens of Mecca. The Jewish apostates of Medina possessed the proverbial thrift and intelligence of their race. In that Hebrew colony none stood higher in public estimation than they. The success of Islam demonstrated beyond dispute the superiority of its original proselytes in the arts of statesmanship no less than in the science of war. Great talents were required to encounter successfully the exigencies which attended its institution, and which afterwards repeatedly menaced its permanence. The high character of such disciples is a positive indication of the purity of their motives and the sincerity of their belief. Men are not liable to be readily imposed upon by claims to divine inspiration asserted by their intimate associates. Distance and mystery are far more propitious to the success of a religious teacher than the familiarity which results from close acquaintance and diurnal scrutiny. It is a common error to attribute the spread of Mohammedanism entirely to the agency of force. Military success was undoubtedly a powerful factor in the accomplishment of its destiny. The sword was peculiarly esteemed in Arabia. The steel of which it was composed was, in a country where no iron was produced, the most valuable of metals. The prodigious nomenclature by which that weapon was distinguished was an indication of its national importance, and of the potency of its effects entertained by those by whom it was wielded. It represented the martial spirit of the Arab,—the ruling incentive of his life, the inspiration of his predatory exploits, the glory of a long succession of cherished traditions. A mystic significance attached to it, which, in time, assumed a religious character, and rendered its employment, according to popular belief, acceptable to the omnipotent and invisible Deity of Arabia. These ideas descended to the Moslems, and promoted, in no small degree, their energy and their enthusiasm. But force alone could never have enabled a tumultuous horde of barbarians, unaccustomed to concerted action and impatient of the restraints of military discipline, to overwhelm three great empires in less than a century. The policy of Islam was at first more conciliatory than menacing. It preferred to inculcate its principles by argument rather than to provoke opposition by invective. It disclaimed the invention of new dogmas, but labored to reconcile its tenets with those of its venerated predecessors. It discouraged proselytism by violence. Whatever it could not abolish or modify, it adopted; whatever it could not appropriate, it ruthlessly destroyed. National decrepitude; the universal decay of religious belief; the dexterous adaptation of alleged prophecy; the hopeless condition of the devout, terrified by the fierce animosity of contending sects; the impossibility of ascertaining the correctness of the Gospel amidst the confusion of doctrines and the multiplicity of versions; the political disorders resulting from barbarian ascendency; the abrogation of the offensive distinctions of caste; the mysterious fascination which attends the unknown; the prospect of wealth, renown, and empire held out to aspiring genius; the guaranty of independence of thought and immunity from persecution—grouped under the banner of Mohammed the disorganized and exhausted nations of the mediæval world. The tenor of his life until the first revelation was that of a man of unimpeachable morality. Already in his youth he had been distinguished by the significant appellation of The Faithful. His marital relations until after the death of Khadijah were without reproach; a fact conceded by his most implacable enemies. A profound knowledge of human nature, an appreciation of the spiritual requirements of his countrymen—upon whose minds the doctrines of Zoroaster and of Christ had made no permanent impression—enabled him to fabricate a system demonstrated by experience to be admirably fitted to the taste, the genius, and the superstition of the Oriental. Without a supreme conviction of the genuineness of his mission he could never have impressed his teachings upon the minds of the satirical and incredulous Arabs, or have secured proselytes among his kindred, to whom his daily intercourse would have soon revealed sentiments and conduct wholly inconsistent with his pretensions as a medium of divine authority. And yet, with all the sincerity of his convictions, he thoroughly distrusted himself. He repeatedly affirmed that he was but a man, a preacher, a reformer, whose mission was the regeneration and the happiness of mankind. In spite of his realistic descriptions of heaven and hell, he declared that he was ignorant of what was in store for the soul after death. The spirit which consolidated a hundred vagrant tribes distracted by the feuds of centuries, deaf to offers of compromise and peace, so jealous of every infringement of their personal liberty that they resented even the benignant and patriarchal rule of their chieftains, into a powerful empire; which noted the glaring absurdities of contemporaneous creeds, and offered in their stead an idea of the Deity so simple, and yet so comprehensive, that no mind, however bigoted, could conscientiously reject it; which moulded into an harmonious system the jarring interests of antagonistic races, and, by its maxims of toleration, conciliated those sectaries who denied the authenticity of its principles, and refused compliance with its ceremonial; which, in consonance with ideas of policy far in advance of the time, united the functions of ruler and priest without apparently giving undue prominence to either; which founded a religion that has endured for nearly thirteen centuries, and has claimed the devoted allegiance of a thousand million men, can hardly with propriety be said to have been created by the irrational and selfish impulses of insanity or imposture. Rather may these results be designated the operations of a master-mind actuated by a lofty ambition; a mind capable of solving the most perplexing questions of statecraft, and endowed with a degree of political wisdom not often exhibited by even those few whom the voice of history has invested with the proud title of artificers of nations.
Much has been written and spoken by persons having important material interests to subserve, possessing limited knowledge of the subject, and with little inclination to use even that knowledge with impartiality, concerning the physical weakness which, at irregular intervals, affected the Prophet. It has already been alluded to as a form of muscular hysteria, an affection peculiar to delicate, nervous organizations, whose attacks are generally evoked by sudden and intense cerebral excitement, and a physiological phenomenon belonging to the same class as somnambulism and catalepsy. It is but temporary in its effects; and while its symptoms are not dissimilar to those of the “falling sickness” of the Romans, the patient does not lose consciousness, and neither the origin nor the continuance of the disease implies even a temporary impairment of the mental faculties. In view of the thorough investigations of medical scholars, the generally received opinion, fostered by ignorance and religious prejudice, may be pronounced erroneous; even if the efforts of enlightened historical criticism had not already established beyond contradiction that to the Byzantines, who enjoyed a world-wide reputation for accomplished mendacity, is to be attributed the popular fable of the epilepsy of Mohammed.
In personal appearance, Mohammed did not differ from his countrymen of gentle blood. His head was large, his chest well developed, his limbs slender but sinewy, and his whole frame capable of the exertion of enormous strength. A heavy beard reached half-way to his girdle, and his coal-black locks, slightly curling, fell down upon his shoulders. He had the purely Semitic cast of features; the dark eyes gleaming with half-hidden fire, the thin aquiline nose, the brown complexion, and teeth of dazzling whiteness. While his expressive physiognomy indicated the possession of a high order of mental power, the sensual, as is often the case with men of extraordinary genius, was visible to an abnormal degree side by side with the intellectual. His gait was rapid and his movements energetic; his manners quiet, but pleasing: his address affable; while his commanding presence, and his proficiency in all the winning but superficial arts of the courtier, heightened by his calm and impressive demeanor, displayed to advantage the graces and charms of his eloquence. Though habitually grave and taciturn, he was easy of access to the vilest outcast; and it was said of him that he always left his hand in that of an acquaintance until the latter had withdrawn his own. His liberality was boundless, and often subjected his household to serious inconvenience; his gentle disposition is shown by his fondness for children, and his humanity by the repeated injunctions of the Koran relating to the treatment of animals. The degrading passion of avarice had no part in his nature; with immense treasures at his command, his establishment was inferior to those of his followers, and the greater part of his income he bestowed upon the poor. His tastes were always simple and unpretending; and even after he had been raised to sovereign power he retained the frugal habits of patriarchal life; his house was but a hut of sun-dried bricks and palm branches, to which a leathern curtain served as a door. So humble was he in everything that did not concern the dignity of his prophetic office, that he even mended his own sandals, cared for his goats and camels, and at times aided his wives in the performance of their domestic duties. Ever constant in friendship, he early secured, and preserved until. death, the attachment of those who were associated with him, whether equals or inferiors, both of whom he treated with the utmost consideration. Such was his self-command and perfect control of his passions that he never struck an enemy save in the heat of battle, scolded a servant, or punished a slave. So far from assuming supernatural powers, he absolutely disclaimed their possession, and no public teacher has ever displayed less self-assurance and dogmatism. As a ruler and a politician, his measures were taken with tact and prudence; as a commander, he displayed in the field considerable military capacity; and it is undisputed that flagrant disobedience of his orders was the cause of his early reverses. He had the strictest ideas of the responsibilities that pertain to the administration of justice; the poorest suitor, however trifling his cause, never failed of a hearing; and he threatened with the severest penalties those who refused the settlement of their pecuniary obligations. While inculcating the crowning merit of good works, he recommended their concealment, and resolutely discountenanced all pharisaical display of pious affectation or pretended virtue. He was slow to resent an injury and quick to pardon an offender,—a signal mark of cowardice in the opinion of the Arab; timely submission and an appeal to his generosity rarely failed to disarm his short-lived hostility; and those who began by being his most implacable enemies ended by becoming his loyal and devoted champions. His magnanimity and the profound knowledge of the human heart which stamped him as a leader of men were evidenced by his noble conduct and princely liberality to the Koreish after the conquest of Mecca. In a word, the brighter side of the character of Mohammed needs no higher eulogy than is revealed by the definition which he has left us of charity, a virtue which he never ceased to practise: “Every good act is charity; your smiling in your brother’s face, your putting a wanderer in the right way, your giving water to the thirsty, your exhortation to another to do right, is charity. A man’s true wealth hereafter is the good he hath done in this world to his fellow-men. When he dies, people will inquire, ‘What property hath he left behind him?’ But the angels will ask, ‘What good deeds hath he sent before him?’”