THE
PREACHING OF ISLAM
A History of the Propagation of the Muslim Faith
BY
T. W. ARNOLD M.A. C.I.E.
PROFESSOR OF ARABIC, UNIVERSITY OF LONDON, UNIVERSITY COLLEGE
NEW YORK
CHARLES SCRIBNER’S SONS
1913
TO
SIR THEODORE MORISON, K.C.I.E.
TO WHOM THE FIRST EDITION OWES ITS EXISTENCE
THIS SECOND EDITION IS DEDICATED
IN TOKEN OF LONG FRIENDSHIP [[vii]]
PREFACE TO THE FIRST EDITION
It is with considerable diffidence that I publish these pages; the subject with which they deal is so vast, and I have had to prosecute it under circumstances so disadvantageous, that I can hope but for small measure of success. When I may be better equipped for the task, and after further study has enabled me to fill up the gaps[1] left in the present work, I hope to make it a more worthy contribution to this neglected department of Muhammadan history; and to this end I shall be deeply grateful for the criticisms and corrections of any scholars who may deign to notice the book. To such I would say in the words of St. Augustine: “Qui hæc legens dicit, intelligo quidem quid dictum sit, sed non vere dictum est; asserat ut placet sententiam suam, et redarguat meam, si potest. Quod si cum caritate et veritate fecerit, mihique etiam (si in hac vita maneo) cognoscendum facere curaverit, uberrimum fructum laboris huius mei cepero.”[2]
As I can neither claim to be an authority nor a specialist on any of the periods of history dealt with in this book, and as many of the events referred to therein have become matter for controversy, I have given full references to the sources consulted; and here I have thought it better to err on the side of excess rather than that of defect. I have myself suffered so much inconvenience and wasted so much time in hunting up references to books indicated in some obscure or unintelligible manner, that I would desire to spare others a similar annoyance; and while to the general reader I may appear guilty of pedantry, I may perchance save trouble to some scholar who wishes to test the accuracy of a statement or pursue any part of the subject further.
The scheme adopted in this book for the transliteration of Arabic words is that laid down by the Transliteration Committee of the Tenth International Congress of Orientalists, held at Geneva in 1894, with the exception that the last letter of the article is assimilated to the so-called solar [[viii]]letters. In the case of geographical names this scheme has not been so rigidly applied—in many instances because I could not discover the original Arabic form of the word, in others (e.g. Mecca, Medina), because usage has almost created for them a prescriptive title.
Though this work is confessedly, as explained in the Introduction, a record of missionary efforts and not a history of persecutions,[3] I have endeavoured to be strictly impartial and to conform to the ideal laid down by the Christian historian[4] who chronicled the successes of the Ottomans and the fall of Constantinople: οὔτε πρὸς χάριν οὔτε πρὸς φθόνον, ἀλλ’ οὐδὲ πρὸς μῖσος ἢ καὶ πρὸς εὔνοιαν συγγράφειν χρεών ἐστι τὸν συγγράφοντα, ἀλλ’ ἱστορίας μόνον καὶ τοῦ μή λήθης βυθῷ παραδοθῆναι, ἣν ὁ χρόνος οἶδε γεννᾶν, τὴν ἱστορίαν.
I desire to thank Her Excellency the Princess Barberini; His Excellency the Prince Chigi; the Most Rev. Dr. Paul Goethals, Archbishop of Calcutta; the Right Rev. Fr. Francis Pesci, Bishop of Allahabad; the Rev. S. S. Allnutt, of the Cambridge Mission, Dehli; the Trustees of Dr. Williams’s Library, Gordon Square, London, for the liberal use they have allowed me of their respective libraries.
I am under an especial debt of gratitude to James Kennedy, Esq., late of the Bengal Civil Service, who has never ceased to take a kindly interest in my book, though it has almost exemplified the Horatian precept, Nonum prematur in annum; to his profound scholarship and wide reading I have been indebted for much information that would otherwise have remained unknown to me, nor do I owe less to the stimulus of his enthusiastic love of learning and his helpful sympathy. I am also under a debt of gratitude to the kindness of Conte Ugo Balzani, but for whose assistance certain parts of my work would have been impossible to me. To the late Professor Robertson Smith I am indebted for valuable suggestions as to the lines of study on which the history of the North African Church and the condition of the Christians under Muslim rule, should be worked out; the profound regret which all Semitic scholars feel at his loss is to me intensified by the thought that this is the only acknowledgment I am able to make of his generous help and encouragement. [[ix]]
I desire also to acknowledge my obligations to Sir Sayyid Aḥmad K͟hān Bahādur, K.C.S.I., LL.D.; to my learned friend and colleague, Shamsu-l ʻUlamāʼ Mawlawī Muḥammad Shiblī Nuʻmānī, who has assisted me most generously out of the abundance of his knowledge of early Muhammadan history; and to my former pupil, Mawlawī Bahādur ʻAlī, M.A.
Lastly, and above all, must I thank my dear wife, but for whom this work would never have emerged out of a chaos of incoherent materials, and whose sympathy and approval are the best reward of my labours.
Aligarh, 1896. [[xi]]
[1] E.g. The spread of Islam in Sicily and the missionary labours of the numerous Muslim saints. [↑]
[2] De Trinitate, i. 5. (Migne, tom. xlii, p. 823.) [↑]
[3] Accordingly the reader will find no account of the recent history of Armenia or Crete, or indeed of any part of the empire of the Turks during the present century—a period singularly barren of missionary enterprise on their part. [↑]
PREFACE TO THE SECOND EDITION
The first edition of this book having been out of print for several years and frequent inquiries having been made for copies, this new edition has been prepared and an effort has been made to revise the work in the light of the fresh materials that have accumulated during the last sixteen years; but I can make no claim to have made myself acquainted with the whole of the vast literature on the subject, in upwards of ten different languages, which has been published during this interval. The growing interest in Islam and the various branches of study connected with it, may be estimated from the fact that since 1906 five periodicals have made their appearance devoted to investigations cognate to the subject-matter of the present work, viz. Revue du Monde Musulman, publiée par La Mission Scientifique du Maroc (Paris, 1906– ); Der Islam, Zeitschrift für Geschichte und Kultur des islamischen Orients (Strassburg, 1910– ); The Moslem World, a quarterly review of current events, literature, and thought among Mohammedans, and the progress of Christian Missions in Moslem lands (London, 1911– ); Mir Islama (St. Petersburg, 1912– ); and Die Welt des Islams, Zeitschrift der deutschen Gesellschaft für Islamkunde (Berlin, 1913– ). The Christian missionary societies are also now devoting increased attention to the subject of Muslim missionary activity and accordingly it takes up a proportionately larger place in their publications than before.
This second edition would have been completed several years ago but for the illiberal policy which closes the Reading Room of the British Museum at 7 o’clock and has thus made it practically inaccessible to me except on Saturdays.[1] I therefore desire to express my grateful thanks to those friends who have facilitated my labours by the loan of books from the Libraries of the University of Leiden and the University of Utrecht (through the kind offices of [[xii]]Professor Wensinck), and the École des Langues Orientales Vivantes, Paris;—to Mr. J. A. Oldham, editor of The International Review of Missions, I am indebted for the loan of volumes of the Allgemeine Missions-Zeitschrift, a set of which I have been unable to find in London; my thanks are specially due to Dr. F. W. Thomas, who has allowed me to study for lengthy periods (along with other books from the India Office Library) the monumental Annali dell’ Islam by Leone Caetani, Principe di Teano,—a work of inestimable value for the early history of Islam, but unfortunately placed out of the reach of the average scholar by reason of its great cost.
I am also much indebted for several valuable indications to those scholars who reviewed the book when it first appeared,—above all, to Professor Goldziher, whose sympathetic interest in this work has encouraged me to continue it.
London, 1913. [[xiii]]
[1] The student of the literature of Science or of the Fine Arts finds the libraries at South Kensington open till 10 o’clock on three evenings every week, but the one library in this country that aims at any completeness is available only to such students as are at leisure during the day-time. [↑]
CONTENTS
CHAPTER I.
PAGE
A missionary religion defined. Islam a missionary religion; its extent. The Qurʼān enjoins preaching and persuasion, and forbids violence and force in the conversion of unbelievers. The present work a history of missions, not of persecutions 1
CHAPTER II.
[STUDY OF THE LIFE OF MUḤAMMAD CONSIDERED AS A PREACHER OF ISLAM].
Muḥammad the type of the Muslim missionary. Account of his early efforts at propagating Islam, and of the conversions made in Mecca before the Hijrah. Persecution of the converts, and migration to Medina. Condition of the Muslims in Medina: beginning of the national life of Islam. Islam offered (a) to the Arabs, (b) to the whole world. Islam declared in the Qurʼān to be a universal religion,—as being the primitive faith delivered to Abraham. Muḥammad as the founder of a political organisation. The spread of Islam and the efforts made to convert the Arabs after the Hijrah. The ideals of Islam and those of Pre-Islamic Arabia contrasted 11
CHAPTER III.
[THE SPREAD OF ISLAM AMONG THE CHRISTIAN NATIONS OF WESTERN ASIA].
The Arab conquests and expansion of the Arab race after the death of Muḥammad. Conversion of Christian Bedouins. Causes of the early successes of the Muslims. Toleration extended to those who remained Christian.—The settled population of the towns: failure of Heraclius’s attempt to reconcile the contending Christian sects. The Arab conquest of Syria and Palestine: their toleration: the Ordinance of ʻUmar: jizyah paid in return for protection and in lieu of military service. Condition of the Christians under Muslim rule: they occupy high posts, build new churches: revival in the Nestorian Church. Causes of their conversion to Islam: revolt against Byzantine ecclesiasticism: influence of rationalistic thought: imposing character of Muslim civilisation. Persecutions suffered by the Christians. Proselytising efforts. Details of conversion to Islam.—Account of conversions from among the Crusaders.—The Armenian and Georgian Churches 45 [[xiv]]
CHAPTER IV.
[THE SPREAD OF ISLAM AMONG THE CHRISTIAN NATIONS OF AFRICA].
Egypt: conquered by the Arabs, who are welcomed by the Copts as their deliverers from Byzantine rule. Condition of the Copts under the Muslims. Corruption and negligence of the clergy lead to conversions to Islam.—Nubia: relations with Muhammadan powers: gradual decay of the Christian faith.—Abyssinia: the Arabs on the sea-board: missionary efforts in the fourteenth century: invasion of Aḥmad Grāñ: conversions to Islam: progress of Islam in recent years.—Northern Africa: extent of Christianity in North Africa in the seventh century: the Christians are said to have been forcibly converted: reasons for thinking that this statement is not true: toleration enjoyed by the Christians: gradual disappearance of the Christian Church 102
CHAPTER V.
[THE SPREAD OF ISLAM AMONG THE CHRISTIANS OF SPAIN].
Christianity in Spain before the Muslim conquest: miserable condition of the Jews and the slaves. Early converts to Islam. Corruption of the clergy. Toleration of the Arabs, and influence of their civilisation on the Christians, who study Arabic and adopt Arab dress and manners. Causes of conversion to Islam. The voluntary martyrs of Cordova. Extent of the conversions 131
CHAPTER VI.
[THE SPREAD OF ISLAM AMONG THE CHRISTIAN NATIONS IN EUROPE UNDER THE TURKS].
Relations of the Turks to their Christian subjects during the first two centuries of their rule: toleration extended to the Greek Church by Muḥammad II: the benefits of Ottoman rule: its disadvantages, the tribute-children, the capitation-tax, tyranny of individuals. Forced conversion rare. Proselytising efforts made by the Turks. Circumstances that favoured the spread of Islam: degraded condition of the Greek Church: failure of the attempt to Protestantise the Greek Church: oppression of the Greek clergy: moral superiority of the Ottomans: imposing character of their conquests. Conversion of Christian slaves.—Islam in Albania, conquest of the country, independent character of its people, gradual decay of the Christian faith, and its causes;—in Servia, alliance of the Servians with the Turks, conversions mainly from among the nobles except in Old Servia;—in Montenegro;—in Bosnia, the Bogomiles, points of similarity between the Bogomilian heresy and the Muslim creed, conversion to Islam;—in Crete, conversion in the ninth century, oppression of the Venetian rule, conquered by the Turks, conversions to Islam 145 [[xv]]
CHAPTER VII.
[THE SPREAD OF ISLAM IN PERSIA AND CENTRAL ASIA].
Religious condition of Persia at the time of the Arab conquest. Islam welcomed by many sections of the population. Points of similarity between the older faiths and Islam. Toleration. Conversions to Islam. The Ismāʻīlians and their missionary system. Islam in Central Asia and Afghanistān 206
CHAPTER VIII.
[THE SPREAD OF ISLAM AMONG THE MONGOLS AND TATARS].
Account of the Mongol conquests. Buddhism, Christianity and Islam in rivalry for the allegiance of the Mongols. Their original religion, Shamanism, described. Spread of Buddhism, of Christianity, and of Islam respectively among the Mongols. Difficulties that stood in the way of Islam. Cruel treatment of the Muslims by some Mongol rulers. Early converts to Islam. Baraka K͟hān, the first Mongol prince converted. Conversion of the Īlk͟hāns. Conversion of the Chag͟hatāy Mongols. History of Islam under the Golden Horde: Ūzbek K͟hān: failure of attempts to convert the Russians. Spread of Islam in modern times in the Russian Empire. The conversion of the Tatars of Siberia 218
CHAPTER IX.
[THE SPREAD OF ISLAM IN INDIA].
Distribution of the Muhammadan population. Part taken by the Muhammadan rulers in the propagation of Islam: conversion of Rajputs and others.—The work of the Muslim missionaries in India; traditions of early missionary efforts in South India, forced conversions under Ḥaydar ʻAlī and Tīpū Sulṭān, the Mappillas:—in the Maldive Islands:—in the Deccan, early Arab settlements, labours of individual missionaries:—in Sind, the rule of the Arabs, their toleration, account of individual missionaries, conversion of the Khojahs and Bohras:—in Bengal, the Muhammadan rule in this province, extensive conversions of the lower castes, religious revival in recent times.—Particular account of the labours of Muslim missionaries in other parts of India. Propagationist movements of modern times. Circumstances facilitating the progress of Islam: the oppressiveness of the Hindu caste system, worship of Muslim saints, etc.—Spread of Islam in Kashmīr and Tibet 254
CHAPTER X.
[THE SPREAD OF ISLAM IN CHINA].
Early notices of Islam in China. Intercourse of the Chinese with the Arabs. Legendary account of the first introduction of Islam into China. Muslims under the Tʼang dynasty: influence of the Mongol conquest; Islam under the Ming dynasty. Relations of the Chinese Muslims to the Chinese Government. Their efforts to spread their religion 294 [[xvi]]
CHAPTER XI.
[THE SPREAD OF ISLAM IN AFRICA].
The Arabs in Northern Africa: conversion of the Berbers: the mission of ʻAbd Allāh b. Yāsīn. Introduction of Islam into the Sudan: rise of Muhammadan kingdoms: account of missionary movements, Danfodio, ʻUt͟hmān al-Amīr G͟hanī, the Qādiriyyah, the Tijāniyyah, and the Sanūsiyyah. Spread of Islam on the West Coast: Ashanti: Dahomey. Spread of Islam on the East Coast: early Muslim settlements: recent expansion in German East Africa: the Galla: the Somali. Islam in Cape Coast Colony. Account of the Muslim missionaries in Africa and their methods of winning converts 312
CHAPTER XII.
[THE SPREAD OF ISLAM IN THE MALAY ARCHIPELAGO].
Early intercourse between the Malay Archipelago and Arabia and India. Methods of missionary work. History of Islam in Sumatra; in the Malay Peninsula; in Java; in the Moluccas; in Borneo; in Celebes; in the Philippine and the Sulu Islands; among the Papuans. The Muslim missionaries: traders: ḥājīs 363
CHAPTER XIII.
Absence of missionary organisation in Islam: zeal on the part of individuals. Who are the Muslim missionaries? Causes that have contributed to their success: the simplicity of the Muslim creed: the rationalism and ritualism of Islam. Islam not spread by the sword. The toleration of Muhammadan governments. Circumstances contributing to the progress of Islam in ancient and in modern times 408
APPENDIX I.
[Letter of al-Hāshimī inviting al-Kindī to embrace Islam] 428
APPENDIX II.
[Controversial literature between Muslims and the followers of other faiths] 436
APPENDIX III.
[Muslim missionary societies] 438
[Titles of Works cited by Abbreviated References] 440
THE PREACHING OF ISLAM
CHAPTER I.
INTRODUCTION.
Ever since Professor Max Müller delivered his lecture in Westminster Abbey, on the day of intercession for missions, in December, 1873, it has been a literary commonplace, that the six great religions of the world may be divided into missionary and non-missionary; under the latter head fall Judaism, Brahmanism and Zoroastrianism, and under the former Buddhism, Christianity and Islam; and he well defined what the term,—a missionary religion,—should be taken to mean, viz. one “in which the spreading of the truth and the conversion of unbelievers are raised to the rank of a sacred duty by the founder or his immediate successors.… It is the spirit of truth in the hearts of believers which cannot rest, unless it manifests itself in thought, word and deed, which is not satisfied till it has carried its message to every human soul, till what it believes to be the truth is accepted as the truth by all members of the human family.”[1]
It is such a zeal for the truth of their religion that has inspired the Muhammadans to carry with them the message of Islam to the people of every land into which they penetrate, and that justly claims for their religion a place among those we term missionary. It is the history of the birth of this missionary zeal, its inspiring forces and the modes of its activity that forms the subject of the following pages. The 200 millions of Muhammadans scattered over the [[2]]world at the present day are evidences of its workings through the length of thirteen centuries.
The doctrines of this faith were first proclaimed to the people of Arabia in the seventh century, by a prophet under whose banner their scattered tribes became a nation; and filled with the pulsations of this new national life, and with a fervour and enthusiasm that imparted an almost invincible strength to their armies, they poured forth over three continents to conquer and subdue. Syria, Palestine, Egypt, North Africa and Persia were the first to fall before them, and pressing westward to Spain and eastward beyond the Indus, the followers of the Prophet found themselves, one hundred years after his death, masters of an empire greater than that of Rome at the zenith of its power.
Although in after years this great empire was split up and the political power of Islam diminished, still its spiritual conquests went on uninterruptedly. When the Mongol hordes sacked Bag͟hdād (A.D. 1258) and drowned in blood the faded glory of the ʻAbbāsid dynasty,—when the Muslims were expelled from Cordova by Ferdinand of Leon and Castile (A.D. 1236), and Granada, the last stronghold of Islam in Spain, paid tribute to the Christian king,—Islam had just gained a footing in the island of Sumatra and was just about to commence its triumphant progress through the islands of the Malay Archipelago. In the hours of its political degradation, Islam has achieved some of its most brilliant spiritual conquests: on two great historical occasions, infidel barbarians have set their feet on the necks of the followers of the Prophet,—the Saljūq Turks in the eleventh and the Mongols in the thirteenth century,—and in each case the conquerors have accepted the religion of the conquered. Unaided also by the temporal power, Muslim missionaries have carried their faith into Central Africa, China and the East India Islands.
At the present day the faith of Islam extends from Morocco to Zanzibar, from Sierra Leone to Siberia and China, from Bosnia to New Guinea. Outside the limits of strictly Muhammadan countries and of lands, such as China and Russia, that contain a large Muhammadan population, there are some few small communities of the followers of [[3]]the Prophet, which bear witness to the faith of Islam in the midst of unbelievers. Such are the Polish-speaking Muslims of Tatar origin in Lithuania, that inhabit the districts of Kovno, Vilno and Grodno;[2] the Dutch-speaking Muslims of Cape Colony; and the Indian coolies that have carried the faith of Islam with them to the West India Islands and to British and Dutch Guiana. In recent years, too, Islam has found adherents in England, in North America, Australia and Japan.
The spread of this faith over so vast a portion of the globe is due to various causes, social, political and religious: but among these, one of the most powerful factors at work in the production of this stupendous result, has been the unremitted labours of Muslim missionaries, who, with the Prophet himself as their great ensample, have spent themselves for the conversion of unbelievers.
The duty of missionary work is no after-thought in the history of Islam, but was enjoined on believers from the beginning, as may be judged from the following passages in the Qurʼān,—which are here quoted in chronological order according to the date of their being delivered.
“Summon thou to the way of thy Lord with wisdom and with kindly warning: dispute with them in the kindest manner. (xvi. 126.)
“They who have inherited the Book after them (i.e. the Jews and Christians), are in perplexity of doubt concerning it.
“For this cause summon thou (them to the faith), and walk uprightly therein as thou hast been bidden, and follow not their desires: and say: In whatsoever Books God hath sent down do I believe: I am commanded to decide justly between you: God is your Lord and our Lord: we have our works and you have your works: between us and you let there be no strife: God will make us all one: and to Him shall we return.” (xlii. 13–14.)
Similar injunctions are found also in the Medinite Sūrahs, [[4]]delivered at a time when Muḥammad was at the head of a large army and at the height of his power.
“Say to those who have been given the Book and to the ignorant, Do you accept Islam? Then, if they accept Islam, are they guided aright: but if they turn away, then thy duty is only preaching; and God’s eye is on His servants, (iii. 19.)
“Thus God clearly showeth you His signs that perchance ye may be guided;
“And that there may be from among you a people who invite to the Good, and enjoin the Just, and forbid the Wrong; and these are they with whom it shall be well. (iii. 99–100.)
“To every people have We appointed observances which they observe. Therefore let them not dispute the matter with thee, but summon them to thy Lord: Verily thou art guided aright:
“But if they debate with thee, then say: God best knoweth what ye do!” (xxii. 66–67.)
The following passages are taken from what is generally supposed to be the last Sūrah that was delivered.
“If any one of those who join gods with God ask an asylum of thee, grant him an asylum in order that he may hear the word of God; then let him reach his place of safety.” (ix. 6.)
With regard to the unbelievers who had broken their plighted word, who “sell the signs of God for a mean price and turn others aside from His way,” and “respect not with a believer either ties of blood or good faith,” … it is said:—
“Yet if they turn to God and observe prayer and give alms, then are they your brothers in the faith: and We make clear the signs for men of knowledge.” (ix. 11.)
Thus from its very inception Islam has been a missionary religion, both in theory and in practice, for the life of Muḥammad exemplifies the same teaching, and the Prophet [[5]]himself stands at the head of a long series of Muslim missionaries who have won an entrance for their faith into the hearts of unbelievers. Moreover it is not in the cruelties of the persecutor or the fury of the fanatic that we should look for the evidences of the missionary spirit of Islam, any more than in the exploits of that mythical personage, the Muslim warrior with sword in one hand and Qurʼān in the other,[3]—but in the quiet, unobtrusive labours of the preacher and the trader who have carried their faith into every quarter of the globe. Such peaceful methods of preaching and persuasion were not adopted, as some would have us believe, only when political circumstances made force and violence impossible or impolitic, but were most strictly enjoined in numerous passages of the Qurʼān, as follows:—
“And endure what they say with patience, and depart from them with a decorous departure.
“And let Me alone with the gainsayers, rich in the pleasures (of this life); and bear thou with them yet a little while. (lxxiii. 10–11.)
“(My) sole (work) is preaching from God and His message. (lxxii. 24.)
“Tell those who have believed to pardon those who hope not for the days of God in which He purposeth to recompense men according to their deserts. (xlv. 13.)
“They who had joined other gods with God say, ‘Had He pleased, neither we nor our forefathers had worshipped aught but Him; nor had we, apart from Him, declared anything unlawful.’ Thus acted they who were before them. Yet is the duty of the apostles other than plain-spoken preaching? (xvi. 37.) [[6]]
“Then if they turn their backs, still thy office is only plain-spoken preaching. (xvi. 84.)
“Dispute ye not, unless in kindliest sort, with the people of the Book; save with such of them as have dealt wrongfully (with you): and say ye, ‘We believe in what has been sent down to us and hath been sent down to you. Our God and your God is one, and to Him are we self-surrendered.’ (xxix. 45.)
“But if they turn aside from thee, yet We have not sent thee to be guardian over them. ’Tis thine but to preach. (xlii. 47.)
“But if thy Lord had pleased, verily all who are in the world would have believed together. Wilt thou then compel men to become believers? (x. 99.)
“And we have not sent thee otherwise than to mankind at large, to announce and to warn.” (xxxiv. 27.)
Such precepts are not confined to the Meccan Sūrahs, but are found in abundance also in those delivered at Medina, as follows:—
“Let there be no compulsion in religion. (ii. 257.)
“Obey God and obey the apostle; but if ye turn away, yet is our apostle only charged with plain-spoken preaching. (lxiv. 12.)
“Obey God and obey the apostle: but if ye turn back, still the burden of his duty is on him only, and the burden of your duty rests on you. And if ye obey him, ye shall have guidance: but plain preaching is all that devolves upon the apostle. (xxiv. 53.)
“Say: O men! I am only your plain-spoken (open) warner. (xxii. 48.)
“Verily We have sent thee to be a witness and a herald of good and a warner,
“That ye may believe on God and on His apostle; and may assist Him and honour Him, and praise Him morning and evening. (xlviii. 8–9.)
“Thou wilt not cease to discover the treacherous ones among them, except a few of them. But forgive them and pass it over. Verily, God loveth those who act generously.” (v. 16.)
[[7]]
It is the object of the following pages to show how this ideal was realised in history and how these principles of missionary activity were put into practice by the exponents of Islam. And at the outset the reader should clearly understand that this work is not intended to be a history of Muhammadan persecutions but of Muhammadan missions—it does not aim at chronicling the instances of forced conversions which may be found scattered up and down the pages of Muhammadan histories. European writers have taken such care to accentuate these, that there is no fear of their being forgotten, and they do not strictly come within the province of a history of missions. In a history of Christian missions we should naturally expect to hear more of the labours of St. Liudger and St. Willehad among the pagan Saxons than of the baptisms that Charlemagne forced them to undergo at the point of the sword.[4] The true missionaries of Denmark were St. Ansgar and his successors rather than King Cnut, who forcibly rooted out paganism from his dominions.[5] Abbot Gottfried and Bishop Christian, though less successful in converting the pagan Prussians, were more truly representative of Christian missionary work than the Brethren of the Sword and other Crusaders who brought their labours to completion by means of fire and sword. The knights of the “Ordo fratrum militiæ Christi” forced Christianity on the people of Livonia, but it is not to these militant propagandists but to the monks Meinhard and Theodoric that we should point as being the true missionaries of the Christian faith in this country. The violent means sometimes employed by the Jesuit missionaries[6] cannot derogate from the honour due to St. Francis Xavier and other preachers of the same order. Nor is Valentyn any the less the apostle of Amboyna because in 1699 an order was promulgated to the Rajas of this [[8]]island that they should have ready a certain number of pagans to be baptised, when the pastor came on his rounds.[7]
In the history of the Christian church missionary activity is seen to be intermittent, and an age of apostolic fervour may be succeeded by a period of apathy and indifference, or persecution and forced conversion may take the place of the preaching of the Word; so likewise does the propaganda of Islam in various epochs of Muhammadan history ebb and flow. But since the zeal of proselytising is a distinct feature of either faith, its missionary history may fittingly be singled out as a separate branch of study, not as excluding other manifestations of the religious life but as concentrating attention on an aspect of it that has special characteristics of its own. Thus the annals of propaganda and persecution may be studied apart from one another, whether in the history of the Christian or the Muslim church, though in both they may be at times commingled. For just as the Christian faith has not always been propagated by the methods adopted in Viken (the southern part of Norway) by King Olaf Trygvesson, who either slew those who refused to accept Christianity, or cut off their hands or feet, or drove them into banishment, and in this manner spread the Christian faith throughout the whole of Viken,[8]—and just as the advice of St. Louis has not been made a principle of Christian missionary work,—“When a layman hears the Christian law ill spoken of, he should not defend that law save with his sword, which he should thrust into the infidel’s belly, as far as it will go,”[9]—so there have been Muslim missionaries who have not been guided in their propagandist methods by the savage utterance of Marwān, the last of the ʻUmayyad caliphs: “Whosoever among the people of Egypt does not enter into my religion and pray as I pray and follow my tenets, I will slay and crucify him.”[10] Nor are al-Mutawakkil, [[9]]al-Ḥākim and Tīpū Sulṭān to be looked upon as typical missionaries of Islam to the exclusion of such preachers as Mawlānā Ibrāhīm, the apostle of Java, K͟hwājah Muʻīn al-Dīn Chishtī in India and countless others who won converts to the Muslim faith by peaceful means alone.
But though a clear distinction can be drawn between conversion as the result of persecution and a peaceful propaganda by means of methods of persuasion, it is not so easy to ascertain the motives that have induced the convert to change his faith, or to discover whether the missionary has been wholly animated by a love of souls and by the high ideal set forth in the first paragraph of this chapter. Both in Christianity and Islam there have been at all times earnest souls to whom their religion has been the supreme reality of their lives, and this absorbing interest in matters of the spirit has found expression in that zeal for the communication of cherished truths and for the domination of doctrines and systems they have deemed perfect, which constitutes the vivifying force of missionary movements,—and there have likewise been those without the pale, who have responded to their appeal and have embraced the new faith with a like fervour. But, on the other hand, Islam—like Christianity—has reckoned among its adherents many persons to whom ecclesiastical institutions have been merely instruments of a political policy or forms of social organisation, to be accepted either as disagreeable necessities or as convenient solutions of problems that they do not care to think out for themselves; such persons may likewise be found among the converts of either faith. Thus both Christianity and Islam have added to the number of their followers by methods and under conditions—social, political and economic—which have no connection with such a thirst for souls as animates the true missionary. Moreover, the annals of missionary enterprise frequently record the admission of converts without any attempt to analyse the motives that have led them to change their faith, and especially for the history of Muslim missions there is a remarkable poverty of material in this respect, since Muslim literature is singularly poor in those records of conversions that occupy such a large place in the literature [[10]]of the Christian church. Accordingly, in the following sketch of the missionary activity of Islam, it has not always been possible to discover whether political, social, economic or purely religious motives have determined conversion, though occasional reference can be made to the operation of one or the other influence. [[11]]
[1] A note on Mr. Lyall’s article: “Missionary Religions.” Fortnightly Review, July, 1874. [↑]
[2] Reclus, vol. v. p. 433; Gasztowtt, p. 320 sqq. [↑]
[3] This misinterpretation of the Muslim wars of conquest has arisen from the assumption that wars waged for the extension of Muslim domination over the lands of the unbelievers implied that the aim in view was their conversion. Goldziher has well pointed out this distinction in his Vorlesungen über den Islam: “Was Muhammed zunächst in seinem arabischen Umkreise getan, das hinterlässt er als Testament für die Zukunft seiner Gemeinde: Bekämpfung der Ungläubigen, die Ausbreitung nicht so sehr des Glaubens als seiner Machtsphäre, die die Machtsphäre Allahs ist. Es ist dabei den Kämpfern des Islams zunächst nicht so sehr um Bekehrung als um Unterwerfung der Ungläubigen zu tun.” (p. 25.) [↑]
[4] See Enhardi Fuldensis Annales, A.D. 777. “Saxones post multas cædes et varia bella afflicti, tandem christiani effecti, Francorum dicioni subduntur.” G. H. Pertz: Monumenta Germaniæ Historica, vol. i. p. 349. (See also pp. 156, 159.) [↑]
[5] “Tum zelo propagandæ fidei succensus, barbara regna iusto certamine aggressus, devictas subditasque nationes christianæ legi subiugavit.” (Breviarium Romanum. Iun. 19.) [↑]
[6] Mathurin Veyssière de la Croze: Histoire du Christianisme des Indes, pp. 529–531. (The Hague, 1724.) [↑]
[7] Revue de l’Histoire des Religions, vol. xi. p. 89. [↑]
[8] Konrad Maurer: Die Bekehrung des norwegischen Stammes zum Christenthume, vol. i. p. 284. (München, 1855.) [↑]
[9] Jean, Sire de Joinville: Histoire de Saint Louis, ed. N. de Wailly, p. 30 (§ 53). [↑]
[10] Severus, p. 191 (ll. 21–22). [↑]
CHAPTER II.
STUDY OF THE LIFE OF MUḤAMMAD CONSIDERED AS A PREACHER OF ISLAM.
It is not proposed in this chapter to add another to the already numerous biographies of Muḥammad, but rather to make a study of his life in one of its aspects only, viz. that in which the Prophet is presented to us as a preacher, as the apostle unto men of a new religion. The life of the founder of Islam and the inaugurator of its propaganda may naturally be expected to exhibit to us the true character of the missionary activity of this religion. If the life of the Prophet serves as the standard of conduct for the ordinary believer, it must do the same for the Muslim missionary. From the pattern, therefore, we may hope to learn something of the spirit that would animate those who sought to copy it, and of the methods they might be expected to adopt. For the missionary spirit of Islam is no after-thought in its history; it interpenetrates the religion from its very commencement, and in the following sketch it is desired to show how this is so, how Muḥammad the Prophet is the type of the missionary of Islam. It is therefore beside the purpose to describe his early history, or the influences under which he grew up to manhood, or to consider him in the light either of a statesman or a general: it is as the preacher alone that he will demand our attention.
When, after long internal conflict and disquietude, Muḥammad was at length convinced of his divine mission, his earliest efforts were directed towards persuading his own family of the truth of the new doctrine. The unity of God, the abomination of idolatry, the duty laid upon man of submission to the will of his Creator,—these were the simple truths to which he claimed their allegiance. [[12]]The first convert was his faithful and loving wife, K͟hadījah,—she who fifteen years before had offered her hand in marriage to the poor kinsman that had so successfully traded with her merchandise as a hired agent,—with the words, “I love thee, my cousin, for thy kinship with me, for the respect with which thy people regard thee, for thy honesty, for the beauty of thy character and for the truthfulness of thy speech.”[1] She had lifted him out of poverty, and enabled him to live up to the social position to which he was entitled by right of birth; but this was as nothing to the fidelity and loving devotion with which she shared his mental anxieties, and helped him with tenderest sympathy and encouragement in the hour of his despondency.
Up to her death in A.D. 619 (after a wedded life of five and twenty years) she was always ready with sympathy, consolation and encouragement whenever he suffered from the persecution of his enemies or was tortured by doubts and misgivings. “So K͟hadījah believed,” says the biographer of the Prophet, “and attested the truth of that which came to him from God and aided him in his undertaking. Thus was the Lord minded to lighten the burden of His Prophet; for whenever he heard anything that grieved him touching his rejection by the people, he would return to her and God would comfort him through her, for she reassured him and lightened his burden and declared her trust in him and made it easy for him to bear the scorn of men.”[2]
Among the earliest believers were his adopted children Zayd and ʻAlī, and his bosom friend Abū Bakr, of whom Muḥammad would often say in after years, “I never invited any to the faith who displayed not hesitation, perplexity and vacillation—excepting only Abū Bakr; who when I told him of Islam tarried not, neither was perplexed.” He was a wealthy merchant, much respected by his fellow citizens for the integrity of his character and for his intelligence and ability. After his conversion he expended the greater part of his fortune on the purchase of Muslim slaves who were persecuted by their masters on account of their adherence to the teaching of Muḥammad. [[13]]Through his influence, to a great extent, five of the earliest converts were added to the number of believers, Saʻd b. Abī Waqqāṣ, the future conqueror of the Persians; al-Zubayr b. al-ʻAwwām, a relative both of the Prophet and his wife; Ṭalḥah, famous as a warrior in after days; a wealthy merchant ʻAbd al-Raḥmān b. ʻAwf, and ʻUt͟hmān, the third K͟halīfah. The last was early exposed to persecution; his uncle seized and bound him, saying, “Dost thou prefer a new religion to that of thy fathers? I swear I will not loose thee until thou givest up this new faith thou art following after.” To which ʻUt͟hmān replied, “By the Lord, I will never abandon it!” Whereupon his uncle, seeing the firmness of his attachment to his faith, released him.
With other additions, particularly from among slaves and poor persons, the Prophet succeeded in collecting round him a little band of followers during the first three years of his mission. Encouraged by the success of these private efforts, Muḥammad determined on more active measures and began to preach in public. He called his kinsmen together and invited them to embrace the new faith. “No Arab,” he urged, “has offered to his nation more precious advantages than those I bring you. I offer you happiness in this world and in the life to come. Who among you will aid me in this task?” All were silent. Only ʻAlī, with boyish enthusiasm, cried out, “Prophet of God, I will aid thee.” At this the company broke up with derisive laughter.
Undeterred by the ill-success of this preaching, he repeatedly appealed to them on other occasions, but his message and his warnings received from them nothing but scoffing and contempt.
More than once the Quraysh tried to induce his uncle Abū Ṭālib, as head of the clan of the Banū Hāshim, to which Muḥammad belonged, to restrain him from making such attacks upon their ancestral faith, or otherwise they threatened to resort to more violent measures. Abū Ṭālib accordingly appealed to his nephew not to bring disaster on himself and his family. The Prophet replied: “Were the sun to come down on my right hand and the [[14]]moon on my left, and the choice were offered me of abandoning my mission until God himself should reveal it, or perishing in the achievement of it, I would not abandon it.” Abū Ṭālib was moved and exclaimed, “Go and say whatever thou wilt: by God! I will never give thee up unto thy enemies.”
The Quraysh viewed the progress of the new religion with increasing dissatisfaction and hatred. They adopted all possible means, threats and promises, insults and offers of worldly honour and aggrandisement to induce Muḥammad to abandon the part he had taken up. The violent abuse with which he was assailed is said to have been the indirect cause of drawing to his side one important convert in the person of his uncle, Ḥamzah, whose chivalrous soul was so stung to sudden sympathy by a tale of insult inflicted on and patiently borne by his nephew, that he changed at once from a bitter enemy into a staunch adherent. His was not the only instance of sympathy for the sufferings of the Muslims being aroused at the sight of the persecutions they had to endure, and many, no doubt, secretly favoured the new religion who did not declare themselves until the day of its triumph.
The hostility of the Quraysh to the new faith increased in bitterness as they watched the increase in the numbers of its adherents. They realised that the triumph of the new teaching meant the destruction of the national religion and the national worship, and a loss of wealth and power to the guardians of the sacred Kaʻbah. Muḥammad himself was safe under the protection of Abū Ṭālib and the Banū Hāshim, who, though they had no sympathy for the doctrines their kinsman taught, yet with the strong clan-feeling peculiar to the Arabs, secured him from any attempt upon his life, though he was still exposed to continual insult and annoyance. But the poor who had no protector, and the slaves, had to endure the cruelest persecution, and were imprisoned and tortured in order to induce them to recant. It was at this time that Abū Bakr purchased the freedom of Bilāl,[3] an African slave, who was called by [[15]]Muḥammad “the first-fruits of Abyssinia.” He had been cruelly tortured by being exposed, day after day, to the scorching rays of the sun, stretched out on his back, with an enormous stone on his stomach; here he was told he would have to stay until either he died or renounced Muḥammad and worshipped idols, to which he would reply only, “There is but one God, there is but one God.” Two persons died under the tortures they had to undergo. The constancy of a few gave way under the trial, but persecution served only to re-kindle the zeal of others. ʻAbd Allāh b. Masʻūd made bold to recite a passage of the Qurʼān within the precincts of the Kaʻbah itself,—an act of daring that none of the followers of Muḥammad had ventured upon before. The assembled Quraysh attacked him and smote him on the face, but it was some time before they compelled him to desist. He returned to his companions, prepared to bear witness to his faith in a similar manner on the next day, but they dissuaded him, saying, “This is enough for thee, since thou hast made them listen to what they hated to hear.”
The virulence of the opposition of the Quraysh is probably the reason why in the fourth year of his mission Muḥammad took up his residence in the house of al-Arqam, one of the early converts. It was in a central situation, much frequented by pilgrims and strangers, and here peaceably and without interruption he was able to preach the doctrines of Islam to all enquirers that came to him. Muḥammad’s stay in this house marks an important epoch in the propagation of Islam in Mecca, and many Muslims dated their conversion from the days when the Prophet preached in the house of al-Arqam.
As Muḥammad was unable to relieve his persecuted followers, he advised them to take refuge in Abyssinia, and in the fifth year of his mission (A.D. 615), eleven men and four women crossed over to Abyssinia, where they received a kind welcome from the Christian king of the country. Among them was a certain Muṣʻab b. ʻUmayr whose history is interesting as of one who had to endure that most bitter trial of the new convert—the hatred of those he loves and who once loved him. He had been led to [[16]]embrace Islam through the teaching he had listened to in the house of al-Arqam, but he was afraid to let the fact of his conversion become known, because his tribe and his mother, who bore an especial love to him, were bitterly opposed to the new religion; and indeed, when they discovered the fact, seized and imprisoned him. But he succeeded in effecting his escape to Abyssinia.
The hatred of the Quraysh is said to have pursued the fugitives even to Abyssinia, and an embassy was sent to demand their extradition from the king of that country. But when he heard their story from the Muslims, he refused to withdraw from them his protection. In answer to his enquiries as to their religion, they said: “O King, we were plunged in the darkness of ignorance, worshipping idols, and eating carrion; we practised abominations, severed the ties of kinship and maltreated our neighbours; the strong among us devoured the weak; and so we remained until God sent us an apostle, from among ourselves, whose lineage we knew as well as his truth, his trustworthiness and the purity of his life. He called upon us to worship the One God and abandon the stones and idols that our fathers had worshipped in His stead. He bade us be truthful in speech, faithful to our promises, compassionate and kind to our parents and neighbours, and to desist from crime and bloodshed. He forbade to do evil, to lie, to rob the orphan or defame women. He enjoined on us the worship of God alone, with prayer, almsgiving and fasting. And we believed in him and followed the teachings that he brought us from God. But our countrymen rose up against us and persecuted us to make us renounce our faith, and return to the worship of idols and the abominations of our former life. So when they cruelly entreated us, reducing us to bitter straits and came between us and the practice of our religion, we took refuge in your country; putting our trust in your justice, we hope that you will deliver us from the oppression of our enemies.” Their prayer was heard and the embassy of the Quraysh returned discomfited.[4] Meanwhile, in Mecca, a fresh attempt [[17]]was made to induce the Prophet to abandon his work of preaching by promises of wealth and honour, but in vain.
While the result of the embassy to Abyssinia was being looked for in Mecca with the greatest expectancy, there occurred the conversion of a man, who before had been one of the most bitter enemies of Muḥammad, and had opposed him with the utmost persistence and fanaticism—a man whom the Muslims had every reason then to look on as their most terrible and virulent enemy, though afterwards he shines as one of the noblest figures in the early history of Islam, viz. ʻUmar b. al-K͟haṭṭāb. One day, in a fit of rage against the Prophet, he set out, sword in hand, to slay him. On the way, one of his relatives met him and asked him where he was going. “I am looking for Muḥammad,” he answered, “to kill the renegade who has brought discord among the Quraysh, called them fools, reviled their religion and defamed their gods.” “Why dost thou not rather punish those of thy own family, and set them right?” “And who are these of my own family?” answered ʻUmar. “Thy brother-in-law Saʻīd and thy sister Fāṭimah, who have become Muslims and followers of Muḥammad.” ʻUmar at once rushed off to the house of his sister, and found her with her husband and K͟habbāb, another of the followers of Muḥammad, who was teaching them to recite a chapter of the Qurʼān. ʻUmar burst into the room: “What was that sound I heard?” “It was nothing,” they replied. “Nay, but I heard you, and I have learned that you have become followers of Muḥammad.” Whereupon he rushed upon Saʻīd and struck him. Fāṭimah threw herself between them, to protect her husband, crying, “Yes, we are Muslims; we believe in God and His Prophet: slay us if you will.” In the struggle his sister was wounded, and when ʻUmar saw the blood on her face, he was softened and asked to see the paper they had been reading: after some hesitation she handed it to him. It contained the 20th Sūrah of the Qurʼān. When ʻUmar read it, he exclaimed, “How beautiful, how sublime it is!” As he read on, conviction suddenly overpowered him and he cried, “Lead me to Muḥammad that I may tell him of my conversion.”[5] [[18]]
The conversion of ʻUmar is a turning-point in the history of Islam: the Muslims were now able to take up a bolder attitude. Muḥammad left the house of al-Arqam and the believers publicly performed their devotions together round the Kaʻbah. The situation might thus be expected to give the aristocracy of Mecca just cause for apprehension. For they had no longer to deal with a band of oppressed and despised outcasts, struggling for a weak and miserable existence. It was rather a powerful faction, adding daily to its strength by the accession of influential citizens and endangering the stability of the existing government by an alliance with a powerful foreign prince.
The Quraysh resolved accordingly to make a determined effort to check the further growth of the new movement in their city. They put the Banū Hāshim, who through ties of kindred protected the Prophet, under a ban, in accordance with which the Quraysh agreed that they would not marry their women, nor give their own in marriage to them; they would sell nothing to them, nor buy aught from them—that dealings with them of every kind should cease. For three years the Banū Hāshim are said to have been confined to one quarter of the city, except during the sacred months, in which all war ceased throughout Arabia and a truce was made in order that pilgrims might visit the sacred Kaʻbah, the centre of the national religion.
Muḥammad used to take advantage of such times of pilgrimage to preach to the various tribes that flocked to Mecca and the adjacent fairs. But with no success, for his uncle Abū Lahab used to dog his footsteps, crying with a loud voice, “He is an impostor who wants to draw you away from the faith of your fathers to the false doctrines that he brings, wherefore separate yourselves from him and hear him not.” They would taunt him with the words: “Thine own people and kindred should know thee best: wherefore do they not believe and follow thee?” But at length the privations endured by Muḥammad and his kinsmen enlisted the sympathy of a numerous section of the Quraysh and the ban was withdrawn.
In the same year the loss of K͟hadījah, the faithful wife who for twenty-five years had been his counsellor and [[19]]support, plunged Muḥammad into the utmost grief and despondency; and a little later the death of Abū Ṭālib deprived him of his constant and most powerful protector and exposed him afresh to insult and contumely.
Scorned and rejected by his own townsmen, to whom he had delivered his message with so little success for ten years, he resolved to see if there were not others who might be more ready to listen, among whom the seeds of faith might find a more receptive and fruitful soil. With this hope he set out for Ṭāʼif, a city about seventy miles from Mecca. Before an assembly of the chief men of the city, he expounded his doctrine of the unity of God and of the mission he had received as the Prophet of God to proclaim this faith; at the same time he besought their protection against his persecutors in Mecca. The disproportion between his high claims (which moreover were unintelligible to the heathen people of Ṭāʼif) and his helpless condition only excited their ridicule and scorn, and pitilessly stoning him with stones they drove him from their city.
On his return from Ṭāʼif the prospects of the success of Muḥammad seemed more hopeless than ever, and the agony of his soul gave itself utterance in the words that he puts into the mouth of Noah: “O my Lord, verily I have cried to my people night and day; and my cry only makes them flee from me the more. And verily, so oft as I cry to them, that Thou mayest forgive them, they thrust their fingers into their ears and wrap themselves in their garments, and persist (in their error), and are disdainfully disdainful.” (lxxi. 5–6.)
It was the Prophet’s habit at the time of the annual pilgrimage to visit the encampments of the various Arab tribes and discourse with them upon religion. By some his words were treated with indifference, by others rejected with scorn. But consolation came to him from an unexpected quarter. He met a little group of six or seven persons whom he recognised as coming from Medina, or, as it was then called, Yat͟hrib. “Of what tribe are you?” said he, addressing them. “We are of the K͟hazraj,” they answered. “Friends of the Jews?” “Yes.” “Then will you not sit down awhile, that I may talk with you?” “Assuredly,” [[20]]replied they. Then they sat down with him, and he proclaimed unto them the true God and preached Islam and recited to them the Qurʼān. Now so it was, in that God wrought wonderfully for Islam that there were found in their country Jews, who possessed scriptures and wisdom, while they themselves were heathen and idolaters. Now the Jews ofttimes suffered violence at their hands, and when strife was between them had ever said to them, “Soon will a Prophet arise and his time is at hand; him will we follow, and with him slay you with the slaughter of ʻĀd and of Iram.” When now the apostle of God was speaking with these men and calling on them to believe in God, they said one to another: “Know surely that this is the Prophet, of whom the Jews have warned us; come let us now make haste and be the first to join him.” So they embraced Islam, and said to him, “Our countrymen have long been engaged in a most bitter and deadly feud with one another; but now perhaps God will unite them together through thee and thy teaching. Therefore we will preach to them and make known to them this religion, that we have received from thee.” So, full of faith, they returned to their own country.[6]
Such is the traditional account of this event which was the turning-point of Muḥammad’s mission. He had now met with a people whose antecedents had in some way prepared their minds for the reception of his teaching and whose present circumstances, as afterwards appeared, were favourable to his cause.
The city of Yat͟hrib had been long occupied by Jews whom some national disaster, possibly the persecution under Hadrian, had driven from their own country, when a party of wandering emigrants, the two Arab clans of K͟hazraj and Aws, arrived at Yat͟hrib and were admitted to a share in the territory. As their numbers increased they encroached more and more on the power of the Jewish rulers, and finally, towards the end of the fifth century, the government of the city passed entirely into their hands.
Some of the Arabs had embraced the Jewish religion, and many of the former masters of the city still dwelt there in [[21]]the service of their conquerors, so that it contained in Muḥammad’s time a considerable Jewish population. The people of Yat͟hrib were thus familiar with the idea of a Messiah who was to come, and were consequently more capable of understanding the claim of Muḥammad to be accepted as the Prophet of God, than were the idolatrous Meccans to whom such an idea was entirely foreign and especially distasteful to the Quraysh, whose supremacy over the other tribes and whose worldly prosperity arose from the fact that they were the hereditary guardians of the national collection of idols kept in the sacred enclosure of the Kaʻbah.
Further, the city of Yat͟hrib was distracted by incessant civil discord through a long-standing feud between the Banū K͟hazraj and the Banū Aws. The citizens lived in uncertainty and suspense, and anything likely to bind the conflicting parties together by a tie of common interest could not but prove a boon to the city. Just as the mediæval republics of Northern Italy chose a stranger to hold the chief post in their cities in order to maintain some balance of power between the rival factions, and prevent, if possible, the civil strife which was so ruinous to commerce and the general welfare, so the Yat͟hribites would not look upon the arrival of a stranger with suspicion, even though he was likely to usurp or gain permission to assume the vacant authority.
On the contrary, one of the reasons for the warm welcome which Muḥammad received in Medina would seem to be that the adoption of Islam appeared to the more thoughtful of its citizens to be a remedy for the disorders from which their society was suffering, by its orderly discipline of life and its bringing the unruly passions of men under the discipline of laws enunciated by an authority superior to individual caprice.[7]
These facts go far to explain how eight years after the Hijrah Muḥammad could, at the head of 10,000 followers, enter the city in which he had laboured for ten years with so meagre a result.
But this is anticipating. Muḥammad had proposed to [[22]]accompany his new converts, the K͟hazrajites, to Yat͟hrib himself, but they dissuaded him therefrom, until a reconciliation could be effected with the Banū Aws. “Let us, we pray thee, return unto our people, if haply the Lord will create peace amongst us; and we will come back again unto thee. Let the season of pilgrimage in the following year be the appointed time.” So they returned to their homes, and invited their people to the faith; and many believed, so that there remained hardly a family in which mention was not made of the Prophet.
When the time of pilgrimage again came round, a deputation from Yat͟hrib, ten men of the Banū K͟hazraj, and two of the Banū Aws, met him at the appointed spot and pledged him their word to obey his teaching. This, the first pledge of ʻAqabah, so called from the secret spot at which they met, ran as follows:—“We will not worship any but the one God; we will not steal, neither will we commit adultery or kill our children; we will abstain from calumny and slander; we will obey the Prophet in every thing that is right.” These twelve men now returned to Yat͟hrib as missionaries of Islam, and so well prepared was the ground, and with such zeal did they prosecute their mission, that the new faith spread rapidly from house to house and from tribe to tribe.
They were accompanied on their return by Muṣʻab b. ʻUmayr; though, according to another account he was sent by the Prophet upon a written requisition from Yat͟hrib. This young man had been one of the earliest converts, and had lately returned from Abyssinia; thus he had had much experience, and severe training in the school of persecution had not only sobered his zeal but taught him how to meet persecution and deal with those who were ready to condemn Islam without waiting to learn the true contents of its teaching; accordingly Muḥammad could with the greatest confidence entrust him with the difficult task of directing and instructing the new converts, cherishing the seeds of religious zeal and devotion that had already been sown and bringing them to fruition. Muṣʻab took up his abode in the house of Asʻad b. Zurārah, and gathered the converts together for prayer and the reading of the Qurʼān, sometimes [[23]]here and sometimes in a house belonging to the Banū Ẓafar, which was situated in a quarter of the town occupied jointly by this family and that of ʻAbd al-Ashhal.
The heads of the latter family at that time were Saʻd b. Muʻād͟h and Usayd b. Ḥuḍayr. One day it happened that Muṣʻab was sitting together with Asʻad in this house of the Banū Ẓafar, engaged in instructing some new converts, when Saʻd b. Muʻād͟h, having come to know of their whereabouts, said to Usayd b. Ḥuḍayr: “Drive out these fellows who have come into our houses to make fools of the weaklings among us; I would spare thee the trouble did not the tie of kinship between me and Asʻad prevent my doing him any harm” (for he himself was the cousin of Asʻad). Hereupon Usayd took his spear and, bursting in upon Asʻad and Muṣʻab, “What are you doing?” he cried, “leading weak-minded folk astray? If you value your lives, begone hence.” “Sit down and listen,” Muṣʻab answered quietly, “if thou art pleased with what thou hearest, accept it; if not, then leave it.” Usayd stuck his spear in the ground and sat down to listen, while Muṣʻab expounded to him the fundamental doctrines of Islam and read several passages of the Qurʼān. After a time Usayd, enraptured, cried, “What must I do to enter this religion?” “Purify thyself with water,” answered Muṣʻab, “and confess that there is no god but God and that Muḥammad is the apostle of God.” Usayd at once complied and repeated the profession of faith, adding, “After me you have still another man to convince” (referring to Saʻd b. Muʻād͟h). “If he is persuaded, his example will bring after him all his people. I will send him to you forthwith.”
With these words he left them, and soon after came Saʻd b. Muʻād͟h himself, hot with anger against Asʻad for the patronage he had extended to the missionaries of Islam. Muṣʻab begged him not to condemn the new faith unheard, so Saʻd agreed to listen and soon the words of Muṣʻab touched him and brought conviction to his heart, and he embraced the faith and became a Muslim. He went back to his people burning with zeal and said to them, “Sons of ʻAbd al-Ashhal, say, what am I to you?” “Thou art our lord,” they answered, “thou art the wisest and most illustrious [[24]]among us.” “Then I swear,” replied Saʻd, “nevermore to speak to any of you until you believe in God and Muḥammad, His apostle.” And from that day, all the descendants of ʻAbd al-Ashhal embraced Islam.[8]
With such zeal and earnestness was the preaching of the faith pushed forward that within a year there was not a family among the Arabs of Medina that had not given some of its members to swell the number of the faithful, with the exception of one branch of the Banū Aws, which held aloof under the influence of Abū Qays b. al-Aslat, the poet.
The following year, when the time of the annual pilgrimage again came round, a band of converts, amounting to seventy-three in number, accompanied their heathen fellow-countrymen from Yat͟hrib to Mecca. They were commissioned to invite Muḥammad to take refuge in Yat͟hrib from the fury of his enemies, and had come to swear allegiance to him as their prophet and their leader. All the early converts who had before met the Prophet on the two preceding pilgrimages, returned to Mecca on this important occasion, and Muṣʻab their teacher accompanied them. Immediately on his arrival he hurried to the prophet, and told him of the success that had attended his mission. It is said that his mother, hearing of his arrival, sent a message to him, saying: “Ah, disobedient son, wilt thou enter a city in which thy mother dwelleth, and not first visit her!” “Nay, verily,” he replied, “I will never visit the house of any one before the Prophet of God.” So, after he had greeted and conferred with Muḥammad, he went to his mother, who thus accosted him: “Then I ween thou art still a renegade.” He answered, “I follow the prophet of the Lord and the true faith of Islam.” “Art thou then well satisfied with the miserable way thou hast fared in the land of Abyssinia and now again at Yat͟hrib?” Now he perceived that she was meditating his imprisonment, and exclaimed, “What! wilt thou force a man from his religion? If ye seek to confine me, I will assuredly slay the first person that layeth hands upon me.” His mother said, “Then depart from my presence,” and she began to [[25]]weep. Muṣʻab was moved, and said, “Oh, my mother! I give thee loving counsel. Testify that there is no God but the Lord and that Muḥammad is His servant and messenger.” But she replied, “By the sparkling stars! I will never make a fool of myself by entering into thy religion. I wash my hands of thee and thy concerns, and cleave steadfastly unto mine own faith.”
In order not to excite suspicion and incur the hostility of the Quraysh, a secret meeting was arranged at ʻAqabah, the scene of the former meeting with the converts of the year before. Muḥammad came accompanied only by his uncle ʻAbbās, who, though he was still an idolater, had been admitted into the secret. ʻAbbās opened the solemn conclave, by recommending his nephew as a scion of one of the noblest families of his clan, which had hitherto afforded the Prophet protection, although rejecting his teachings; but now that he wished to take refuge among the people of Yat͟hrib, they should bethink themselves well before undertaking such a charge, and resolve not to go back from their promise, if once they undertook the risk. Then Barā b. Maʻrūr, one of the Banū K͟hazraj, protesting that they were firm in their resolve to protect the Prophet of God, besought him to declare fully what he wished of them.
Muḥammad began by reciting to them some portions of the Qurʼān, and exhorted them to be true to the faith they had professed in the one God and the Prophet, His apostle; he then asked them to defend him and his companions from all assailants just as they would their own wives and children. Then Barā b. Maʻrūr, taking his hand, cried out, “Yea, by Him who sent thee as His Prophet, and through thee revealed unto us His truth, we will protect thee as we would our own bodies, and we swear allegiance to thee as our leader. We are the sons of battle and men of mail, which we have inherited as worthy sons of worthy forefathers.” So they all in turn, taking his hand in theirs, swore allegiance to him.
As soon as the Quraysh gained intelligence of these secret proceedings, the persecution broke out afresh against the Muslims, and Muḥammad advised them to flee out of the [[26]]city. “Depart unto Yat͟hrib; for the Lord hath verily given you brethren in that city, and a home in which ye may find refuge.” So quietly, by twos and threes they escaped to Yat͟hrib, where they were heartily welcomed, their co-religionists in that city vying with one another for the honour of entertaining them, and supplying them with such things as they had need of. Within two months nearly all the Muslims except those who were seized and imprisoned and those who could not escape from captivity had left Mecca, to the number of about 150. There is a story told of one of these Muslims, by name Ṣuhayb, whom Muḥammad called “the first-fruits of Greece” (he had been a Greek slave, and being set free by his master had amassed considerable wealth by successful trading); when he was about to emigrate the Meccans said to him, “Thou camest hither in need and penury; but thy wealth hath increased with us, until thou hast reached thy present prosperity; and now thou art departing, not thyself only, but with all thy property. By the Lord, that shall not be;” and he said, “If I relinquish my property, will ye leave me free to depart?” And they agreed thereto; so he parted with all his goods. And when that was told unto Muḥammad, he said, “Verily, Ṣuhayb hath made a profitable bargain.”
Muḥammad delayed his own departure (with the intention, no doubt, of withdrawing attention from his faithful followers) until a determined plot against his life warned him that further delay might be fatal, and he made his escape by means of a stratagem.
His first care after his arrival in Yat͟hrib, or Medina as it was called from this period—Madīnah al-Nabī, the city of the Prophet—was to build a mosque, to serve both as a place of prayer and of general assembly for his followers, who had hitherto met for that purpose in the dwelling-place of one of their number. The worshippers at first used to turn their faces in the direction of Jerusalem—an arrangement most probably adopted with the hope of gaining over the Jews. In many other ways, by constant appeals to their own sacred Scriptures, by according them perfect freedom of worship and political equality, Muḥammad [[27]]endeavoured to conciliate the Jews, but they met his advances with scorn and derision. When all hopes of amalgamation proved fruitless and it became clear that the Jews would not accept him as their Prophet, Muḥammad bade his followers turn their faces in prayer towards the Kaʻbah in Mecca. (ii. 144.)[9]
This change of direction during prayer has a deeper significance than might at first sight appear. It was really the beginning of the National Life of Islam: it established the Kaʻbah at Mecca as a religious centre for all the Muslim people, just as from time immemorial it had been a place of pilgrimage for all the tribes of Arabia. Of similar importance was the incorporation of the ancient Arab custom of pilgrimage to Mecca into the circle of the religious ordinances of Islam, a duty that was to be performed by every Muslim at least once in his lifetime.
There are many passages in the Qurʼān that appeal to this germ of national feeling and urge the people of Arabia to realise the privilege that had been granted them of a divine revelation in their own language and by the lips of one of their own countrymen.
“Verily We have made it an Arabic Qurʼān that ye may haply understand. (xliii. 2–3.)
“And thus We have revealed to thee an Arabic Qurʼān, that thou mayest warn the mother of cities and those around it. (xlii. 5.)
“And if We had made it a Qurʼān in a foreign tongue, they had surely said, ‘Unless its verses be clearly explained (we will not receive it).’ (xli. 44.)
“And verily We have set before men in this Qurʼān every kind of parable that haply they be monished:
“An Arabic Qurʼān, free from tortuous (wording), that haply they may fear (God). (xxxix. 28–29.)
“Verily from the Lord of all creatures hath this (book) come down, … in the clear Arabic tongue. (xxvi. 192, 195.)
“And We have only made it (i.e. the Qurʼān) easy, in [[28]]thine own tongue, in order that thou mayest announce glad tidings thereby to the God-fearing, and that thou mayest warn the contentious thereby.” (xix. 97.)
But the message of Islam was not for Arabia only; the whole world was to share in it.[10] As there was but one God, so there was to be but one religion into which all men were to be invited. This claim to be universal, to hold sway over all men and all nations, found a practical illustration in the letters which Muḥammad is said to have sent in the year A.D. 688 (A.H. 6) to the great potentates of that time. An invitation to embrace Islam was sent in this year to the Emperor Heraclius, the king of Persia, the governor of Yaman, the governor of Egypt and the king of Abyssinia. The letter to Heraclius is said to have been as follows:—“In the name of God, the Merciful, the Compassionate, Muḥammad, who is the servant of God and His apostle, to Hiraql the Qayṣar of Rūm. Peace be on whoever has gone on the straight road. After this I say, Verily I call you to Islam. Embrace Islam, and God will reward you twofold. If you turn away from the offer of Islam, then on you be the sins of your people. O people of the Book, come towards a creed which is fit both for us and for you. It is this—to worship none but God, and not to associate anything with God, and not to call others God. Therefore, O ye people of the Book, if ye refuse, beware. We are Muslims and our religion is Islam.” However absurd this summons may have seemed to those who then received it, succeeding years showed that it was dictated by no empty enthusiasm.[11] These letters only gave a more open and widespread expression to the claim to the universal acceptance which is repeatedly made for Islam in the Qurʼān. [[29]]
“Of a truth it (i.e. the Qurʼān) is no other than an admonition to all created beings, and after a time shall ye surely know its message. (xxxviii. 87–88.)
“This (book) is no other than an admonition and a clear Qurʼān, to warn whoever liveth; and that against the unbelievers sentence may be justly given. (xxxvi. 69–70.)
“We have not sent thee save as a mercy to all created beings. (xxi. 107.)
“Blessed is He who hath sent down al-Furqān upon His servant, that he may be a warner unto all created beings. (xxv. 1.)
“And We have not sent thee otherwise than to mankind at large, to announce and to warn. (xxxiv. 27.)
“He it is who hath sent His apostle with guidance and the religion of truth, that He may make it victorious over every other religion, though the polytheists are averse to it.” (lxi. 9.)
In the hour of his deepest despair, when the people of Mecca persistently turned a deaf ear to the words of their prophet (xvi. 23, 114, etc.), when the converts he had made were tortured until they recanted (xvi. 108), and others were forced to flee from the country to escape the rage of their persecutors (xvi. 43, 111)—then was delivered the promise, “One day we will raise up a witness out of every nation.” (xvi. 86.)[12]
This claim upon the acceptance of all mankind which the Prophet makes in these passages is further prophetically indicated in the words “first-fruits of Abyssinia,” used by Muḥammad in reference to Bilāl, and “first-fruits of Greece,” to Ṣuhayb; Salmān, the first Persian convert, was a Christian slave in Medina, who embraced the new faith in the first [[30]]year of the Hijrah. Thus long before any career of conquest was so much as dreamed of, the Prophet had clearly shown that Islam was not to be confined to the Arab race. The following account of the sending out of missionaries to preach Islam to all nations, points to the same claim to be a universal religion: “The Apostle of God said to his companions, ‘Come to me all of you early in the morning.’ After the morning prayer he spent some time in praising and supplicating God, as was his wont; then he turned to them and sent forth some in one direction and others in another, and said: ‘Be faithful to God in your dealings with His servants (i.e. with men), for whosoever is entrusted with any matter that concerns mankind and is not faithful in his service of them, to him God shuts the gate of Paradise: go forth and be not like the messengers of Jesus, the son of Mary, for they went only to those that lived near and neglected those that dwelt in far countries.’ Then each of these messengers came to speak the language of the people to whom he was sent. When this was told to the Prophet he said, ‘This is the greatest of the duties that they owe to God with respect to His servants.’ ”[13]
The proof of the universality of Islam, of its claim on the acceptance of all men, lay in the fact that it was the religion divinely appointed for the whole human race and was now revealed to them anew through Muḥammad, “the seal of the prophets” (xxxiii. 40), as it had been to former generations by other prophets.
“Men were of one religion only: then they disagreed one with another and had not a decree (of respite) previously gone forth from thy Lord, judgment would surely have been given between them in the matter wherein they disagree. (x. 20.)
“I am no apostle of new doctrines. (xlvi. 8.)
“Mankind was but one people: then God raised up prophets to announce glad tidings and to warn: and He sent down with them the Book with the Truth, that it might decide the disputes of men: and none disagreed save those to whom the book had been [[31]]given, after the clear tokens had reached them, through mutual jealousy. And God guided those who believed into the truth concerning which they had disagreed, by His will; and God guideth whom He pleaseth into the straight path. (ii. 209.)
“And We revealed to thee, ‘follow the religion of Abraham, the sound in faith, for he was not of those who join gods with God.’ (xvi. 124.)
“Say: As for me, my Lord hath guided me into a straight path: a true faith, the religion of Abraham, the sound in faith; for he was not of those who join gods with God. (vi. 162.)
“Say: Nay, the religion of Abraham, the sound in faith and not one of those who join gods with God (is our religion). (ii. 129.)
“Say: God speaketh truth. Follow therefore the religion of Abraham, he being a Ḥanīf and not one of those who join other gods with God.
“Verily the first temple that was set up for men was that which is in Bakka, blessed and a guidance for all created beings. (iii. 89, 90.)
“And who hath a better religion than he who resigneth himself to God, who doth what is good and followeth the faith of Abraham, the sound in faith? (iv. 124.)
“He hath elected you, and hath not laid on you any hardship in religion, the faith of your father Abraham. He hath named you the Muslims.” (xx. 77.)
But to return to Muḥammad in Medina. In order properly to appreciate his position after the Flight, it is important to remember the peculiar character of Arab society at that time, as far at least as this part of the peninsula was concerned. There was an entire absence of any organised administrative or judicial system such as in modern times we connect with the idea of a government. Each tribe or clan formed a separate and absolutely independent body, and this independence extended itself also to the individual members of the tribe, each of whom recognised the authority, or leadership of his chief only as being the exponent of a public opinion which he himself happened to share; but [[32]]he was quite at liberty to refuse his conformity to the (even) unanimous resolve of his fellow clansmen. Further, there was no regular transmission of the office of chieftain; but he was generally chosen as being the oldest member of the richest and most powerful family of the clan, and as being personally most qualified to command respect. If such a tribe became too numerous, it would split up into several divisions, each of which continued to enjoy a separate and independent existence, uniting only on some extraordinary occasion for common self-defence or some more than usually important warlike expedition. We can thus understand how Muḥammad could establish himself in Medina at the head of a large and increasing body of adherents who looked up to him as their head and leader and acknowledged no other authority,—without exciting any feeling of insecurity, or any fear of encroachment on recognised authority, such as would have arisen in a city of ancient Greece or any similarly organised community. Muḥammad thus exercised temporal authority over his people just as any other independent chief might have done, the only difference being that in the case of the Muslims a religious bond took the place of family and blood ties.
Islam thus became what, in theory at least, it has always remained—a political as well as a religious system.
“It was Muḥammad’s desire to found a new religion, and in this he succeeded; but at the same time he founded a political system of an entirely new and peculiar character. At first his only wish was to convert his fellow-countrymen to the belief in the One God—Allāh; but along with this he brought about the overthrow of the old system of government in his native city, and in place of the tribal aristocracy under which the conduct of public affairs was shared in common by the ruling families, he substituted an absolute theocratic monarchy, with himself at the head as vicar of God upon earth.
“Even before his death almost all Arabia had submitted to him; Arabia that had never before obeyed one prince, suddenly exhibits a political unity and swears allegiance to the will of an absolute ruler. Out of the numerous tribes, big and small, of a hundred different kinds that [[33]]were incessantly at feud with one another, Muḥammad’s word created a nation. The idea of a common religion under one common head bound the different tribes together into one political organism which developed its peculiar characteristics with surprising rapidity. Now only one great idea could have produced this result, viz. the principle of national life in heathen Arabia. The clan-system was thus for the first time, if not entirely crushed—(that would have been impossible)—yet made subordinate to the feeling of religious unity. The great work succeeded, and when Muḥammad died there prevailed over by far the greater part of Arabia a peace of God such as the Arab tribes, with their love of plunder and revenge, had never known; it was the religion of Islam that had brought about this reconciliation.”[14]
Even in the case of death, the claims of relationship were set aside and the bond-brother inherited all the property of his deceased companion. But after the battle of Badr, when such an artificial bond was no longer needed to unite his followers, it was abolished; such an arrangement was only necessary so long as the number of the Muslims was still small and the corporate life of Islam a novelty; moreover Muḥammad had lived in Medina for a very short space of time before the rapid increase in the number of his adherents made so communistic a social system almost impracticable.
It was only to be expected that the growth of an independent political body composed of refugees from Mecca, located in a hostile city, should eventually lead to an outbreak of hostilities; and, as is well known, every biography of Muḥammad is largely taken up with the account of a long series of petty encounters and bloody battles between his followers and the Quraysh of Mecca, ending in his triumphal entry into that city in A.D. 630, and of his hostile relations with numerous other tribes, up to the time of his death, A.D. 633.
To give any account of these campaigns is beyond the scope of the present work, but it is important to show that Muḥammad, when he found himself at the head of a band [[34]]of armed followers, was not transformed at once, as some would have us believe, from a peaceful preacher into a fanatic, sword in hand, forcing his religion on whomsoever he could.[15]
It has been frequently asserted by European writers that from the date of Muḥammad’s migration to Medina, and from the altered circumstances of his life there, the Prophet appears in an entirely new character. He is no longer the preacher, the warner, the apostle of God to men, whom he would persuade of the truth of the religion revealed to him, but now he appears rather as the unscrupulous bigot, using all means at his disposal of force and statecraft to assert himself and his opinions.
But it is false to suppose that Muḥammad in Medina laid aside his rôle of preacher and missionary of Islam, or that when he had a large army at his command, he ceased to invite unbelievers to accept the faith. Ibn Saʻd gives a number of letters written by the Prophet from Medina to chiefs and other members of different Arabian tribes, in addition to those addressed to potentates living beyond the limits of Arabia, inviting them to embrace Islam; and in the following pages will be found instances of his having sent missionaries to preach the faith to the unconverted members of their tribes, whose very ill-success in some cases is a sign of the genuinely missionary character of their efforts and the absence of an appeal to force. A typical example of such an unsuccessful mission is that sent to preach Islam to the Banū ʻĀmir b. Ṣaʻṣaʻah in the year A.H. 4. The chief of this tribe, Abū Barā ʻĀmir, visited Muḥammad in Medina, listened to his teaching, but declined to become a convert; he seemed, however, to be favourably disposed towards the new faith and asked the Prophet to send some of his followers to Najd to preach to the people of that country. The Prophet sent a party of forty Muslims, most of them young men of Medina, who were skilled in reciting the Qurʼān, and had been accustomed to meet together at night for study and prayer. But in [[35]]spite of the safe conduct given them by Abū Barā ʻĀmir, they were treacherously murdered and three only of the party escaped with their lives.[16]
The successes of the Muslim arms, however, attracted every day members of various tribes, particularly those in the vicinity of Medina, to swell the ranks of the followers of the Prophet; and “the courteous treatment which the deputations of these various clans experienced from the Prophet, his ready attention to their grievances, the wisdom with which he composed their disputes, and the politic assignments of territory by which he rewarded an early declaration in favour of Islam, made his name to be popular and spread his fame as a great and generous prince throughout the Peninsula.”[17]
It not unfrequently happened that one member of a tribe would come to the Prophet in Medina and return home as a missionary of Islam to convert his brethren; we have the following account of such a conversion in the year 5 (A.H.).
The Banū Saʻd b. Bakr sent one of their number, by name Ḍimām b. T͟haʻlabah as their envoy to the Prophet. He came and made his camel kneel down at the gate of the mosque and tied up its fore-leg. Then he went into the mosque, where the Prophet was sitting with his companions. He went up close to them and said, “Which among you is the son of ʻAbd al-Muṭṭalib?” “I am,” replied the Prophet. “Art thou Muḥammad?” “Yes,” was the answer. “Then, if thou wilt not take it amiss, I would fain ask thee some weighty questions.” “Nay, ask what thou wilt,” answered the Prophet. “I adjure thee by Allāh, thy God and the God of those who were before thee and of those who are to come after thee, hath Allāh sent thee as a prophet unto us?” Muḥammad answered, “Yea, by Allāh.” He continued, “I adjure thee by Allāh, thy God and the God of those who were before thee and of those who are to come after thee, hath He commanded thee to [[36]]bid us worship Him alone, and to associate naught else with Him and to abandon these idols that our fathers worshipped?” Muḥammad answered, “Yea, by Allāh.” Then he questioned the Prophet concerning all the ordinances of Islam, one after another, prayer and fasting, pilgrimage, etc., solemnly adjuring him as before. At the end he said, “Then I bear witness that there is no God save Allāh and I bear witness that Muḥammad is the Prophet of Allāh, and I will observe these ordinances and shun what thou hast forbidden, adding nothing thereto, and taking nothing away.” Then he turned away and loosened his camel and returned unto his own people, and when he had gathered them together, the first words he spoke unto them were: “Vile things are Lāt and ʻUzzā.” They cried out, “Hold! Ḍimām, take heed of leprosy or madness!” “Fie on you!” he replied. “By Allāh! they can neither work you weal nor woe, for Allāh has sent a Prophet and revealed to him a book, whereby he delivers you from your evil plight; I bear witness that there is no God save Allāh alone and that Muḥammad is His servant and His Prophet; and I have brought you tidings of what he enjoins and what he forbids.” The story goes on that ere nightfall there was not a man or woman in the camp who had not accepted Islam.[18]
Another such missionary was ʻAmr b. Murrah, belonging to the tribe of the Banū Juhaynah, who dwelt between Medina and the Red Sea. The date of his conversion was prior to the Flight, in the same year (A.H. 5), and he thus describes it: “We had an idol that we worshipped, and I was the guardian of its shrine. When I heard of the Prophet, I broke it in pieces and set off to Muḥammad, where I accepted Islam and bore witness to the truth, and believed on what Muḥammad declared to be allowed and forbidden. And to this my verses refer: ‘I bear witness that God is Truth and that I am the first to abandon the gods of stones, and I have girded up my loins to make my way to you over rough ways and smooth, to join myself to him who in himself and for his ancestry is the noblest of men, the apostle of [[37]]the Lord whose throne is above the clouds.’ ” He was sent by Muḥammad to preach Islam to his tribe, and his efforts were crowned with such success that there was only one man who refused to listen to his exhortations.[19]
When the truce of Ḥudaybiyyah (A.H. 6) made friendly relations with the people of Mecca possible, many persons of that city, who had had the opportunity of listening to the teaching of Muḥammad in the early days of his mission, and among them some men of great influence, came out to Medina, to embrace the faith of Islam.
The continual warfare carried on with the people of Mecca had hitherto kept the tribes to the south of that city almost entirely outside the influence of the new religion. But this truce now made communications with southern Arabia possible, and a small band from the tribe of the Banū Daws came from the mountains that form the northern boundary of Yaman, and joined themselves to the Prophet in Medina. Even before the appearance of Muḥammad, there were some members of this tribe who had had glimmerings of a higher religion than the idolatry prevailing around them, and argued that the world must have had a creator, though they knew not who he was; and when Muḥammad came forward as the apostle of this creator, one of these men, by name Ṭufayl b. ʻAmr, came to Mecca to learn who the creator was.
Though warned by the Quraysh of the dangerous influence that Muḥammad might exercise over him if he entered into conversation with him, he followed the Prophet to his house one day, after watching him at prayer by the Kaʻbah. Muḥammad expounded to him the doctrines of Islam, and Ṭufayl left Mecca full of zeal for the new faith. On his return home he succeeded in converting his father and his wife, but found his fellow-tribesmen unwilling to abandon their old idolatrous worship. Disheartened at the ill-success of his mission, he returned to the Prophet and besought him to call down the curse of God on the Banū Daws; but Muḥammad encouraged him to persevere in his efforts, saying, “Return to thy people and summon them to the faith, but deal gently with them.” At the [[38]]same time he prayed, “Oh God! guide the Banū Daws in the right way.” The success of Ṭufayl’s propaganda was such that in the year A.H. 7 he came to Medina with between seventy and eighty families of his tribesmen who had been won over to the faith of Islam, and after the triumphal entry of Muḥammad into Mecca, Ṭufayl set fire to the block of wood that had hitherto been venerated as the idol of the tribe.[20]
In A.H. 7, fifteen more tribes submitted to the Prophet, and after the surrender of Mecca in A.H. 8, the ascendancy of Islam was assured, and those Arabs who had held aloof, saying, “Let Muḥammad and his fellow-tribesmen fight it out; if he is victorious, then is he a genuine prophet,”[21] now hastened to give in their allegiance to the new religion. Among those who came in after the fall of Mecca were some of the most bitter persecutors of Muḥammad in the earlier days of his mission, to whom his noble forbearance and forgiveness now gave a place in the brotherhood of Islam. The following year witnessed the martyrdom of ʻUrwah b. Masʻūd, one of the chiefs of the people of Ṭāʼif, which city the Muslims had unsuccessfully attempted to capture. He had been absent at that time in Yaman, and returned from his journey shortly after the raising of the siege. He had met the Prophet two years before at Ḥudaybiyyah, and had conceived a profound veneration for him, and now came to Medina to embrace the new faith. In the ardour of his zeal he offered to go to Ṭāʼif to convert his fellow-countrymen, and in spite of the efforts of Muḥammad to dissuade him from so dangerous an undertaking, he returned to his native city, publicly declared that he had renounced idolatry, and called upon the people to follow his example. While he was preaching, he was mortally wounded by an arrow, and died giving thanks to God for having granted him the glory of martyrdom. A more successful missionary effort was made by another follower of the Prophet in Yaman—probably a year later—of which we have the following graphic account: “The apostle of God wrote to al-Ḥārit͟h and Masrūḥ, and Nuʻaym b. ʻAbd al-Kulāl of Ḥimyar: ‘Peace be upon you so long as [[39]]ye believe on God and His apostle. God is one God, there is no partner with Him. He sent Moses with his signs, and created Jesus with his words. The Jews say, “Ezra is the Son of God,” and the Christians say, “God is one of three, and Jesus is the Son of God.” ’ He sent the letter by ʻAyyāsh b. Abī Rabīʻah al-Mak͟hzūmī, and said: ‘When you reach their city, go not in by night, but wait until the morning; then carefully perform your ablutions, and pray with two prostrations, and ask God to bless you with success and a friendly reception, and to keep you safe from harm. Then take my letter in your right hand, and deliver it with your right hand into their right hands, and they will receive it. And recite to them, “The unbelievers among the people of the Book and the polytheists did not waver,” etc. (Sūrah 98), to the end of the Sūrah; when you have finished, say, “Muḥammad has believed, and I am the first to believe.” And you will be able to meet every objection they bring against you, and every glittering book that they recite to you will lose its light. And when they speak in a foreign tongue, say, “Translate it,” and say to them, “God is sufficient for me; I believe in the Book sent down by Him, and I am commanded to do justice among you; God is our Lord and your Lord; to us belong our works, and to you belong your works; there is no strife between us and you; God will unite us, and unto Him we must return.” If they now accept Islam, then ask them for their three rods, before which they gather together to pray, one rod of tamarisk that is spotted white and yellow, and one knotted like a cane, and one black like ebony. Bring the rods out and burn them in the market-place.’ So I set out,” tells ʻAyyāsh, “to do as the Apostle of God had bid me. When I arrived, I found that all the people had decked themselves out for a festival: I walked on to see them, and came at last to three enormous curtains hung in front of three doorways. I lifted the curtain and entered the middle door, and found people collected in the courtyard of the building. I introduced myself to them as the messenger of the Apostle of God, and did as he had bidden me; and they gave heed to my words, and it fell out as he had said.”[22] [[40]]
In A.H. 9 a deputation of thirteen men from the Banū Kilāb, a branch of the Banū ʻĀmir b. Ṣaʻṣaʻah, came to the Prophet and informed him that one of his followers, Ḍaḥḥāk b. Sufyān, had come to them, reciting the Qurʼān and teaching the doctrines of Islam, and that his preaching had won over their tribe to the new faith.[23] Another branch of the same tribe, the Banū Ruʼās b. Kilāb, was converted by one of its members, named ʻAmr b. Mālik, who had been to Medina and accepted Islam, and then returned to his fellow tribes and persuaded them to follow his example.[24]
In the same year a less successful attempt was made by a new convert, Wāt͟hilah b. al-Asqaʻ, to induce his clan to accept the faith that he himself had embraced after an interview with the Prophet. His father scornfully cast him off, saying, “By God! I will never speak a word to you again,” and none were found willing to believe the doctrines he preached with the exception of his sister, who provided him with the means of returning to the Prophet at Medina.[25] This ninth year of the Hijrah has been called the year of the deputations, because of the enormous number of Arab tribes and cities that now sent delegates to the Prophet, to give in their submission. The introduction into Arab society of a new principle of social union in the brotherhood of Islam had already begun to weaken the binding force of the old tribal ideal, which erected the fabric of society on the basis of blood-relationship. The conversion of an individual and his reception into the new society was a breach of one of the most fundamental laws of Arab life, and its frequent occurrence had acted as a powerful solvent on tribal organisation and had left it weak in the face of a national life so enthusiastic and firmly-knit as that of the Muslims had become. The Arab tribes were thus impelled to give in their submission to the Prophet, not merely as the head of the strongest military force in Arabia, but as the exponent of a theory of social life that was making all others weak and ineffective.[26] Muḥammad had succeeded in introducing into the anarchical society of his time a [[41]]sentiment of national unity, a consciousness of rights and duties towards one another such as the Arabs had not felt before.[27] In this way, Islam was uniting together clans that hitherto had been continually at feud with one another, and as this great confederacy grew, it more and more attracted to itself the weaker among the tribes of Arabia. In the accounts of the conversion of the Arab tribes, there is continual mention of the promise of security against their enemies, made to them by the Prophet on the occasion of their submission. “Woe is me for Muḥammad!” was the cry of one of the Arab tribes on the news of the death of the Prophet. “So long as he was alive, I lived in peace and in safety from my enemies;” and the cry must have found an echo far and wide throughout Arabia.
How superficial was the adherence of numbers of the Arab tribes to the faith of Islam may be judged from the widespread apostasy that followed immediately on the death of the Prophet. Their acceptance of Islam would seem to have been often dictated more by considerations of political expediency, and was more frequently a bargain struck under pressure of violence than the outcome of any enthusiasm or spiritual awakening. They allowed themselves to be swept into the stream of what had now become a great national movement, and we miss the fervent zeal of the early converts in the cool, calculating attitude of those who came in after the fall of Mecca. But even from among these must have come many to swell the ranks of the true believers animated with a genuine zeal for the faith, and ready, as we have seen, to give their lives in the effort to preach it to their brethren.
“These men were the true moral heirs of the Prophet, the future apostles of Islam, the faithful trustees of all that Muḥammad had revealed unto the men of God. Into these men, through their constant contact with the Prophet and their devotion to him, there had really entered a new mode of thought and feeling, loftier and more civilised than any they had known before; they had really changed for the better from every point of view, and later on as statesmen and generals, in the most difficult moments of the war of [[42]]conquest they gave magnificent and undeniable proof that the ideas and the doctrines of Muḥammad had been seed cast on fruitful soil, and had produced a body of men of the very highest worth. They were the depositaries of the sacred text of the Qurʼān, which they alone knew by heart; they were the jealous guardians of the memory of every word and bidding of the Prophet, the trustees of the moral heritage of Muḥammad. These men formed the venerable stock of Islam from whom one day was to spring the noble band of the first jurists, theologians and traditionists of Muslim society.”[28]
But for such men as these, so vast a movement could not have held together, much less have recovered the shock given it by the death of the founder. For it must not be forgotten how distinctly Islam was a new movement in heathen Arabia, and how diametrically opposed were the ideals of the two societies.[29] For the introduction of Islam into Arab society did not imply merely the sweeping away of a few barbarous and inhuman practices, but a complete reversal of the pre-existing ideals of life.
Herein we have the most conclusive proof of the essentially missionary character of the teaching of Muḥammad, who thus comes forward as the exponent of a new scheme of faith and practice. Whatever may have been the conditions favourable to the formation of a new political organisation, Muḥammad certainly did not find the society of his day prepared to receive his religious teaching and waiting only for the voice that would express in speech the inarticulate yearnings of their hearts. But it is just this spirit of expectancy that is wanting among the Arabs—those at least of the Central Arabia towards whom Muḥammad’s efforts were at first directed. They were by no means ready to receive the preaching of a new teacher, least of all one who came with the (to them unintelligible) title of apostle of God.
Again, the equality in Islam of all believers and the common brotherhood of all Muslims, which suffered no [[43]]distinctions between Arab and non-Arab, between free and slave, to exist among the faithful, was an idea that ran directly counter to the proud clan-feeling of the Arab, who grounded his claims to personal consideration on the fame of his ancestors, and in the strength of the same carried on the endless blood-feuds in which his soul delighted. Indeed, the fundamental principles in the teaching of Muḥammad were a protest against much that the Arabs had hitherto most highly valued, and the newly-converted Muslim was taught to consider as virtues, qualities which hitherto he had looked down upon with contempt.
To the heathen Arab, friendship and hostility were as a loan which he sought to repay with interest, and he prided himself on returning evil for evil, and looked down on any who acted otherwise as a weak nidering.
He is the perfect man who late and early plotteth still
To do a kindness to his friends and work his foes some ill.
To such men the Prophet said, “Recompense evil with that which is better” (xxiii. 98); as they desired the forgiveness of God, they were to pass over and pardon offences (xxiv. 22), and a Paradise, vast as the heavens and the earth, was prepared for those who mastered their anger and forgave others. (iii. 128.)
The very institution of prayer was jeered at by the Arabs to whom Muḥammad first delivered his message, and one of the hardest parts of his task was to induce in them that pious attitude of mind towards the Creator, which Islam inculcates equally with Judaism and Christianity, but which was practically unknown to the heathen Arabs. This self-sufficiency and this lack of the religious spirit, joined with their intense pride of race, little fitted them to receive the teachings of one who maintained that “The most worthy of honour in the sight of God is he that feareth Him most” (xlix. 13). No more could they brook the restrictions that Islam sought to lay upon the licence of their lives; wine, women, and song, were among the things most dear to the Arab’s heart in the days of the ignorance, and the Prophet was stern and severe in his injunctions respecting each of them. [[44]]
Thus, from the very beginning, Islam bears the stamp of a missionary religion that seeks to win the hearts of men, to convert them and persuade them to enter the brotherhood of the faithful; and as it was in the beginning, so has it continued to be up to the present day, as will be the object of the following pages to show. [[45]]
[3] He is famous throughout the Muhammadan world as the first muʼad͟hd͟hin. [↑]
[4] Ibn Isḥāq, p. 219–220. Ṭabarī makes no mention of this mission and Caetani (i. p. 278) accordingly suggests that it is a later invention. [↑]
[7] Caetani, vol. i. pp. 334–5. [↑]
[9] The appointment of the fast of Ramaḍān (Qurʼān ii. 179–84), is doubtless another sign of the breaking with the Jews, the fast on the Day of Atonement being thus abolished. [↑]
[10] “Aber Gottes Botschaft ist nicht auf die Araber beschränkt. Sein Wille gilt für alle Creatur, es heischt unbedingten Gehorsam von aller Menschheit, und dass Muhammed als sein Bote denselben Gehorsam zu heischen berechtigt und verpflichtet sei, scheint von Anfang an ein integrirender Bestandtheil seines Gedankensystem gewesen zu sein.” (Sachau, pp. 293–4.) Goldziher (Vorlesungen über den Islam, p. 25 sqq.) and Nöldeke (WZKM, vol. xxi. pp. 307–8) express a similar opinion. [↑]
[11] On the doubtful authenticity of these letters, see Caetani, vol. i. p. 725 sqq. [↑]
[12] It seems strange that in the face of these passages, some have denied that Islam was originally intended by its founder to be a universal religion. Thus Sir William Muir says, “That the heritage of Islam is the world, was an afterthought. The idea, spite of much prophetic tradition, had been conceived but dimly, if at all, by Mahomet himself. His world was Arabia, and for it the new dispensation was ordained. 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 circumstance rather than design.” (The Caliphate, pp. 43–4.) Caetani is the latest exponent of this view. (Annali dell’Islām, vol. v. pp. 323–4.) [↑]
[13] Ibn Saʻd, § 10. This story may indeed be apocryphal, but is significant at least of the early realisation of the missionary character of Islam. [↑]
[14] A. von Kremer (3), pp. 309, 310. [↑]
[15] This would seem to be acknowledged even by Muir, when speaking of the massacre of the Banū Qurayẓah (A.H. 6): “The ostensible grounds upon which Mahomet proceeded were purely political, for as yet he did not profess to force men to join Islam, or to punish them for not embracing it.” (Muir (2), vol. iii. p. 282.) [↑]
[16] Ibn Isḥāq, p. 648 sq. [↑]
[17] Muir (2), vol. iv. pp. 107–8. See also Caetani, vol. i. p. 663. “Assai più che tutte le prediche del Profeta, assai più che tutta la bontà delle dottrine islamiche, siffatti vantaggi militari contribuirono al aumentare il numero dei seguaci. La rapidità della diffusione dell’Islām divenne in special modo sensibile per il contegno et per lo spirito di tolleranza, di libertà, e di opportunismo, che diresse il Profeta nei suoi rapporti con i convertiti.” [↑]
[18] Ibn Isḥāq, p. 943–4. (This story rests on somewhat doubtful authority, cf. Caetani, vol. i. p. 610.) [↑]
[20] Ibn Isḥāq, pp. 252–4. [↑]
[21] Caetani, vol. ii. t. i. p. 341. [↑]
[26] See Sprenger, vol. iii. pp. 360–1. [↑]
[27] Caetani, vol. ii. p. 433. [↑]
[28] Caetani, vol. ii. p. 429. [↑]
[29] This has been nowhere more fully and excellently brought out than in the scholarly work of Prof. Ignaz Goldziher (Muhammedanische Studien, vol. i.), from which I have derived the following considerations. [↑]
CHAPTER III.
THE SPREAD OF ISLAM AMONG THE CHRISTIAN NATIONS OF WESTERN ASIA.
After the death of Muḥammad, the army he had intended for Syria was despatched thither by Abū Bakr, in spite of the protestations made by certain Muslims in view of the then disturbed state of Arabia. He silenced their expostulations with the words: “I will not revoke any order given by the Prophet. Medina may become the prey of wild beasts, but the army must carry out the wishes of Muḥammad.” This was the first of that wonderful series of campaigns in which the Arabs overran Syria, Persia and Northern Africa—overturning the ancient kingdom of Persia and despoiling the Roman Empire of some of its fairest provinces. It does not fall within the scope of this work to follow the history of these different campaigns, but, in view of the expansion of the Muslim faith that followed the Arab conquests, it is of importance to discover what were the circumstances that made such an expansion possible.
A great historian[1] has well put the problem that meets us here, in the following words: “Was it genuine religious enthusiasm, the new strength of a faith now for the first time blossoming forth in all its purity, that gave the victory in every battle to the arms of the Arabs and in so incredibly short a time founded the greatest empire the world had ever seen? But evidence is wanting to prove that this was the case. The number was far too small of those who had given their allegiance to the Prophet and his teaching with a free and heartfelt conviction, while on the other hand all the greater was the number of those who had been [[46]]brought into the ranks of the Muhammadans only through pressure from without or by the hope of worldly gain. K͟hālid, ‘that sword of the swords of God,’ exhibited in a very striking manner that mixture of force and persuasion whereby he and many of the Quraysh had been converted, when he said that God had seized them by the hearts and by the hair and compelled them to follow the Prophet. The proud feeling too of a common nationality had much influence—a feeling which was more alive among the Arabs of that time than (perhaps) among any other people, and which alone determined many thousands to give the preference to their countryman and his religion before foreign teachers. Still more powerful was the attraction offered by the sure prospect of gaining booty in abundance, in fighting for the new religion and of exchanging their bare, stony deserts, which offered them only a miserable subsistence, for the fruitful and luxuriant countries of Persia, Syria and Egypt.”
These stupendous conquests which laid the foundations of the Arab empire, were certainly not the outcome of a holy war, waged for the propagation of Islam, but they were followed by such a vast defection from the Christian faith that this result has often been supposed to have been their aim. Thus the sword came to be looked upon by Christian historians as the instrument of Muslim propaganda, and in the light of the success attributed to it the evidences of the genuine missionary activity of Islam were obscured. But the spirit which animated the invading hosts of Arabs who poured over the confines of the Byzantine and Persian empires, was no proselytising zeal for the conversion of souls. On the contrary, religious interests appear to have entered but little into the consciousness of the protagonists of the Arab armies.[2] This expansion of the Arab race is more rightly envisaged as the migration of a vigorous and energetic people driven by hunger and want, to leave their inhospitable deserts and overrun the richer lands of their more fortunate neighbours.[3] Still the unifying [[47]]principle of the movement was the theocracy established in Medina, and the organisation of the new state proceeded from the devoted companions of Muḥammad, the faithful depositaries of his teaching, whose moral weight and enthusiasm kept Islam alive as the official religion, despite the indifference of those Arabs who gave to it a mere nominal adherence.[4] It is not, therefore, in the annals of the conquering armies that we must look for the reasons which lead to the so rapid spread of the Muslim faith, but rather in the conditions prevailing among the conquered peoples.
The national character of this ethnic movement of migration naturally attracted to the invading Arab hosts the outlying representatives of the Arab race through whom the path of the conquering armies lay. Accordingly it is not surprising to find that many of the Christian Bedouins were swept into the rushing tide of this great movement and that Arab tribes, who for centuries had professed the Christian religion, now abandoned it to embrace the Muslim faith. Among these was the tribe of the Banū G͟hassān, who held sway over the desert east of Palestine and southern Syria, of whom it was said that they were “Lords in the days of the ignorance and stars in Islam.”[5] After the battle of Qādisiyyah (A.H. 14) in which the Persian army under Rustam had been utterly discomfited, many Christians belonging to the Bedouin tribes on both sides of the Euphrates came to the Muslim general and said: “The tribes that at the first embraced Islam were wiser than we. Now that Rustam hath been slain, we will accept the new belief.”[6] Similarly, after the conquest of northern Syria, most of the Bedouin tribes, after hesitating a little, joined themselves to the followers of the Prophet.[7]
That force was not the determining factor in these conversions may be judged from the amicable relations that existed between the Christian and the Muslim Arabs. Muḥammad himself had entered into treaty with several [[48]]Christian tribes, promising them his protection and guaranteeing them the free exercise of their religion and to their clergy undisturbed enjoyment of their old rights and authority.[8] A similar bond of friendship united his followers with their fellow-countrymen of the older faith, many of whom voluntarily came forward to assist the Muslims in their military expeditions in the same spirit of loyalty to the new government as had caused them to hold aloof from the great apostasy that raised the standard of revolt throughout Arabia immediately after the death of the Prophet.[9] It has been suggested that the Christian Arabs who guarded the frontier of the Byzantine empire bordering on the desert threw in their lot with the invading Muslim army, when Heraclius refused any longer to pay them their accustomed subsidy for military service as wardens of the marches.[10]
In the battle of the Bridge (A.H. 13) when a disastrous defeat was imminent and the panic-stricken Arabs were hemmed in between the Euphrates and the Persian host, a Christian chief of the Banū Ṭayy sprang forward like another Spurius Lartius to the side of an Arab Horatius, to assist Mut͟hannah the Muslim general in defending the bridge of boats which could alone afford the means of an orderly retreat. When fresh levies were raised to retrieve this disgrace, among the reinforcements that came pouring in from every direction was a Christian tribe of the Banū Namir, who dwelt within the limits of the Byzantine empire, and in the ensuing battle of Buwayb (A.H. 13), just before the final charge of the Arabs that turned the fortune of battle in their favour, Mut͟hannah rode up to the Christian chief and said: “Ye are of one blood with us; come now, and as I charge, charge ye with me.” The Persians fell back before their furious onslaught, and another great victory was added to the glorious roll of Muslim triumphs. One of the most gallant exploits of the day was performed by a youth belonging to another Christian tribe of the desert, who with his companions, a company of Bedouin horse-dealers, had come up just as the Arab army was being [[49]]drawn up in battle array. They threw themselves into the right on the side of their compatriots; and while the conflict was raging most fiercely, this youth, rushing into the centre of the Persians, slew their leader, and leaping on his richly-caparisoned horse, galloped back amidst the plaudits of the Muslim line, crying as he passed in triumph: “I am of the Banū Tag͟hlib. I am he that hath slain the chief.”[11]
The tribe to which this young man boasted that he belonged was one of those that elected to remain Christian, while other tribes of Mesopotamia, such as the Banū Namir and the Banū Quḍāʻah, became Muslim. The Banū Tag͟hlib had sent an embassy to the Prophet as early as the year A.H. 9. The heathen members of the deputation embraced Islam and he made a treaty with the Christians according to which they were to retain their old faith but were not to baptise their children. A condition so entirely at variance with the usual tolerant attitude of Muḥammad towards the Christian Arabs, who were allowed to choose between conversion to Islam and the payment of jizyah and never compelled to abandon their faith, has given rise to the conjecture that this condition was suggested by the Christian families of the Banū Tag͟hlib themselves, out of motives of economy.[12] The long survival of Christianity in this tribe shows that this condition was certainly not observed. The caliph ʻUmar forbade any pressure to be put upon them, when they showed themselves unwilling to abandon their old faith and ordered that they should be left undisturbed in the practice of it, but that they were not to oppose the conversion of any member of their tribe to Islam nor baptise the children of such as became Muslims.[13] They were called upon to pay the jizyah[14] or tax imposed on the non-Muslim subjects, but they felt it to be humiliating to their pride to pay a tax that was levied in return for [[50]]protection of life and property, and petitioned the caliph to be allowed to make the same kind of contribution as the Muslims did. So in lieu of the jizyah they paid a double Ṣadaqah or alms,[15]—which was a poor tax levied on the fields and cattle, etc., of the Muslims.[16] It especially irked the Muslims that any of the Arabs should remain true to the Christian faith. The majority of the Banū Tanūk͟h had become Muslim in the year A.H. 12, when with other Christian Arab tribes they submitted to K͟hālid b. al-Walīd,[17] but some of them appear to have remained true to their old faith for nearly a century and a half, since the caliph al-Mahdī (A.H. 158–169) is said to have seen a number of them who dwelt in the neighbourhood of Aleppo, and learning that they were Christians, in anger ordered them to accept Islam—which they did to the number of 5000, and one of them suffered martyrdom rather than apostatise.[18] But for the most part, details are lacking for any history of the disappearance of Christianity from among the Christian Arab tribes of Northern Arabia; they seem to have become absorbed in the surrounding Muslim community by an almost insensible process of “peaceful penetration”; had attempts been made to convert them by force when they first came under Muhammadan rule, it would not have been possible for Christians to have survived among them up to the times of the ʻAbbāsid caliphs.[19]
The people of Ḥīrah had likewise resisted all the efforts made by K͟hālid to induce them to accept the Muslim faith. This city was one of the most illustrious in the annals of Arabia, and to the mind of the impetuous hero of Islam it seemed that an appeal to their Arab blood would be enough to induce them to enrol themselves with the followers of the Prophet of Arabia. When the besieged citizens sent an embassy to the Muslim general to arrange the terms of the capitulation of their city, K͟hālid asked them, “Who are [[51]]you? are you Arabs or Persians?” Then ʻAdī, the spokesman of the deputation, replied, “Nay, we are pure-blooded Arabs, while others among us are naturalised Arabs.” K͟h. “Had you been what you say you are, you would not have opposed us or hated our cause.” ʻA. “Our pure Arab speech is the proof of what I say.” K͟h. “You speak truly. Now choose you one of these three things: either (1) accept our faith, then your rights and obligations will be the same as ours, whether you choose to go into another country or stay in your own land; or (2) pay jizyah; or (3) war and battle. Verily, by God! I have come to you with a people who are more desirous of death than you are of life.” ʻA. “Nay, we will pay you jizyah.” K͟h. “Ill-luck to you! Unbelief is a pathless desert and foolish is the Arab who, when two guides meet him wandering therein—the one an Arab and the other not—leaves the first and accepts the guidance of the foreigner.”[20]
Due provision was made for the instruction of the new converts, for while whole tribes were being converted to the faith with such rapidity, it was necessary to take precautions against errors, both in respect of creed and ritual, such as might naturally be feared in the case of ill-instructed converts. Accordingly we find that the caliph ʻUmar appointed teachers in every country, whose duty it was to instruct the people in the teachings of the Qurʼān and the observances of their new faith. The magistrates were also ordered to see that all, whether old or young, were regular in their attendance at public prayer, especially on Fridays and in the month of Ramaḍān. The importance attached to this work of instructing the new converts may be judged from the fact that in the city of Kūfah it was no less a personage than the state treasurer who was entrusted with this task.[21]
From the examples given above of the toleration extended towards the Christian Arabs by the victorious Muslims of the first century of the Hijrah and continued by succeeding generations, we may surely infer that those Christian tribes that did embrace Islam, did so of their own choice and free [[52]]will.[22] The Christian Arabs of the present day, dwelling in the midst of a Muhammadan population, are a living testimony of this toleration; Layard speaks of having come across an encampment of Christian Arabs at al-Karak, to the east of the Dead Sea, who differed in no way, either in dress or in manners, from the Muslim Arabs.[23] Burckhardt was told by the monks of Mount Sinai that in the last century there still remained several families of Christian Bedouins who had not embraced Islam, and that the last of them, an old woman, died in 1750, and was buried in the garden of the convent.[24]
Many of the Arabs of the renowned tribe of the Banū G͟hassān, Arabs of the purest blood, who embraced Christianity towards the end of the fourth century, still retain the Christian faith, and since their submission to the Church of Rome, about two centuries ago, employ the Arabic language in their religious services.[25]
If we turn from the Bedouins to consider the attitude of the settled inhabitants of the towns and the non-Arab population towards the new religion, we do not find that the Arab conquest was so rapidly followed by conversions to Islam. The Christians of the great cities of the eastern provinces of the Byzantine empire seem for the most part to have remained faithful to their ancestral creed, to which indeed they still in large numbers cling.
In order that we may fully appreciate their condition under the Muslim rule, and estimate the influences that led to occasional conversions, it will be well briefly to sketch their situation under the Christian rule of the Byzantine empire which fell back before the Arab arms.
A hundred years before, Justinian had succeeded in giving some show of unity to the Roman Empire, but after [[53]]his death it rapidly fell asunder, and at this time there was an entire want of common national feeling between the provinces and the seat of government. Heraclius had made some partially successful efforts to attach Syria again to the central government, but unfortunately the general methods of reconciliation which he adopted had served only to increase dissension instead of allaying it. Religious passions were the only existing substitute for national feeling, and he tried, by propounding an exposition of faith, that was intended to serve as an eirenicon, to stop all further disputes between the contending factions and unite the heretics to the Orthodox Church and to the central government. The Council of Chalcedon (451) had maintained that Christ was “to be acknowledged in two natures, without confusion, change, division, or separation; the difference of the natures being in nowise taken away by reason of their union, but rather the properties of each nature being preserved, and concurring into one person and one substance, not as it were divided or separated into two persons, but one and the same Son and only begotten, God the Word.” This council was rejected by the Monophysites, who only allowed one nature in the person of Christ, who was said to be a composite person, having all attributes divine and human, but the substance bearing these attributes was no longer a duality, but a composite unity. The controversy between the orthodox party and the Monophysites, who flourished particularly in Egypt and Syria and in countries outside the Byzantine empire, had been hotly contested for nearly two centuries, when Heraclius sought to effect a reconciliation by means of the doctrine of Monotheletism: while conceding the duality of the natures, it secured unity of the person in the actual life of Christ, by the rejection of two series of activities in this one person; the one Christ and Son of God effectuates that which is human and that which is divine by one divine human agency, i.e. there is only one will in the Incarnate Word.[26]
But Heraclius shared the fate of so many would-be [[54]]peace-makers: for not only did the controversy blaze up again all the more fiercely, but he himself was stigmatised as a heretic and drew upon himself the wrath of both parties.
Indeed, so bitter was the feeling he aroused that there is strong reason to believe that even a majority of the orthodox subjects of the Roman Empire, in the provinces that were conquered during this emperor’s reign, were the well-wishers of the Arabs; they regarded the emperor with aversion as a heretic, and were afraid that he might commence a persecution in order to force upon them his Monotheletic opinions.[27] They therefore readily—and even eagerly—received the new masters who promised them religious toleration, and were willing to compromise their religious position and their national independence if only they could free themselves from the immediately impending danger.
Michael the Elder, Jacobite Patriarch of Antioch, writing in the latter half of the twelfth century, could approve the decision of his co-religionists and see the finger of God in the Arab conquests even after the Eastern churches had had experience of five centuries of Muhammadan rule. After recounting the persecutions of Heraclius, he writes: “This is why the God of vengeance, who alone is all-powerful, and changes the empire of mortals as He will, giving it to whomsoever He will, and uplifting the humble—beholding the wickedness of the Romans who, throughout their dominions, cruelly plundered our churches and our monasteries and condemned us without pity—brought from the region of the south the sons of Ishmael, to deliver us through them from the hands of the Romans. And, if in truth, we have suffered some loss, because the catholic churches, that had been taken away from us and given to the Chalcedonians, remained in their possession; for when the cities submitted to the Arabs, they assigned to each denomination the churches which they found it to be in possession of (and at that time the great church of Emessa [[55]]and that of Harran had been taken away from us); nevertheless it was no slight advantage for us to be delivered from the cruelty of the Romans, their wickedness, their wrath and cruel zeal against us, and to find ourselves at peace.”[28]
When the Muslim army reached the valley of the Jordan and Abū ʻUbaydah pitched his camp at Fiḥl, the Christian inhabitants of the country wrote to the Arabs, saying: “O Muslims, we prefer you to the Byzantines, though they are of our own faith, because you keep better faith with us and are more merciful to us and refrain from doing us injustice and your rule over us is better than theirs, for they have robbed us of our goods and our homes.”[29] The people of Emessa closed the gates of their city against the army of Heraclius and told the Muslims that they preferred their government and justice to the injustice and oppression of the Greeks.[30]
Such was the state of feeling in Syria during the campaign of 633–639 in which the Arabs gradually drove the Roman army out of the province. And when Damascus, in 637, set the example of making terms with the Arabs, and thus secured immunity from plunder and other favourable conditions, the rest of the cities of Syria were not slow to follow. Emessa, Arethusa, Hieropolis and other towns entered into treaties whereby they became tributary to the Arabs. Even the patriarch of Jerusalem surrendered the city on similar terms. The fear of religious compulsion on the part of the heretical emperor made the promise of Muslim toleration appear more attractive than the connection with the Roman Empire and a Christian government, and after the first terrors caused by the passage of an invading army, there succeeded a profound revulsion of feeling in favour of the Arab conquerors.[31] [[56]]
For the provinces of the Byzantine empire that were rapidly acquired by the prowess of the Muslims found themselves in the enjoyment of a toleration such as, on account of their Monophysite and Nestorian opinions, had been unknown to them for many centuries. They were allowed the free and undisturbed exercise of their religion with some few restrictions imposed for the sake of preventing any friction between the adherents of the rival religions, or arousing any fanaticism by the ostentatious exhibition of religious symbols that were so offensive to Muslim feeling.[32] The extent of this toleration—so striking in the history of the seventh century—may be judged from the terms granted to the conquered cities, in which protection of life and property and toleration of religious belief were given in return for submission and the payment of jizyah.[33]
The exact details of these agreements cannot easily be disentangled from the accretions with which they have become overlaid, but whether verbally authentic or not, they are significant as representing the historic tradition accepted by the Muslim historians of the second century of the Hijrah—a tradition that could hardly have become established had there been extant evidence to the contrary. As an example of such an agreement, the conditions[34] may be quoted that are stated to have been drawn up when Jerusalem submitted to the caliph ʻUmar b. al-K͟haṭṭāb: “In the name of God, the Merciful, the Compassionate! This is the security which ʻUmar, the servant of God, the commander of the faithful, grants to the people of Ælia. He grants to all, whether sick or sound, security for their lives, their possessions, their churches and their crosses, and for all that concerns their religion. Their churches shall not be changed into dwelling places, nor destroyed, neither shall they nor their appurtenances be in any way diminished, nor the crosses of the inhabitants nor aught of their possessions, nor shall any constraint be put upon them in the matter of their faith, nor shall any one of them be harmed.”[35] [[57]]
Tribute was imposed upon them of five dīnārs for the rich, four for the middle class and three for the poor. In company with the Patriarch, ʻUmar visited the holy places, and it is said while they were in the Church of the Resurrection, as it was the appointed hour of prayer, the Patriarch bade the caliph offer his prayers there, but he thoughtfully refused, saying that if he were to do so, his followers might afterwards claim it as a place of Muslim worship.
It is in harmony with the same spirit of kindly consideration for his subjects of another faith, that ʻUmar is recorded to have ordered an allowance of money and food to be made to some Christian lepers, apparently out of the public funds.[36] Even in his last testament, in which he enjoins on his successor the duties of his high office, he remembers the d͟himmīs (or protected persons of other faiths): “I commend to his care the d͟himmīs, who enjoy the protection of God and of the Prophet; let him see to it that the covenant with them is kept, and that no greater burdens than they can bear are laid upon them.”[37]
A later generation attributed to ʻUmar a number of restrictive regulations which hampered the Christians in the free exercise of their religion, but De Goeje[38] and Caetani[39] have proved without doubt that they are the invention of a later age; as, however, Muslim theologians of less tolerant periods accepted these ordinances as genuine, they are of importance for forming a judgment as to the condition of the Christian Churches under Muslim rule. This so-called ordinance of ʻUmar runs as follows:—“In the name of God, the Merciful, the Compassionate! This is a writing to ʻUmar b. al-K͟haṭṭāb from the Christians of such and such a city. When you marched against us, we asked of you protection for ourselves, our posterity, our possessions and our co-religionists; and we made this stipulation with you, that we will not erect in our city or the suburbs any new monastery, church, cell or hermitage;[40] [[58]]that we will not repair any of such buildings that may fall into ruins, or renew those that may be situated in the Muslim quarters of the town; that we will not refuse the Muslims entry into our churches either by night or by day; that we will open the gates wide to passengers and travellers; that we will receive any Muslim traveller into our houses and give him food and lodging for three nights; that we will not harbour any spy in our churches or houses, or conceal any enemy of the Muslims; that we will not teach our children the Qurʼān;[41] that we will not make a show of the Christian religion nor invite any one to embrace it; that we will not prevent any of our kinsmen from embracing Islam, if they so desire. That we will honour the Muslims and rise up in our assemblies when they wish to take their seats; that we will not imitate them in our dress, either in the cap, turban, sandals, or parting of the hair; that we will not make use of their expressions of speech,[42] nor adopt their surnames; that we will not ride on saddles, or gird on swords, or take to ourselves arms or wear them, or engrave Arabic inscriptions on our rings; that we will not sell wine; that we will shave the front of our heads; that we will keep to our own style of dress, wherever we may be; that we will wear girdles round our waists; that we will not display the cross upon our churches or display our crosses or our sacred books in the streets of the Muslims, or in their market-places;[43] that we will strike the bells[44] in our churches lightly; that we will not recite our services in a loud voice when a Muslim is present, that we will not carry palm-branches or our images in procession in the streets, that at the burial of our dead we will not chant loudly or carry lighted candles [[59]]in the streets of the Muslims or their market-places; that we will not take any slaves that have already been in the possession of Muslims, nor spy into their houses; and that we will not strike any Muslim. All this we promise to observe, on behalf of ourselves and our co-religionists, and receive protection from you in exchange; and if we violate any of the conditions of this agreement, then we forfeit your protection and you are at liberty to treat us as enemies and rebels.”[45]
The earliest mention of this document is made by Ibn Ḥazm, who died in the middle of the fifth century of the Hijrah; its provisions represent the more intolerant practice of a later age, and indeed were regulations that were put into force with no sort of regularity, some outburst of fanaticism being generally needed for any appeal to be made for their application. There is abundant evidence to show that the Christians in the early days of the Muhammadan conquest had little to complain of in the way of religious disabilities. It is true that adherence to their ancient faith rendered them obnoxious to the payment of jizyah—a word which originally denoted tribute of any kind paid by the non-Muslim subjects of the Arab empire, but came later on to be used for the capitation-tax as the fiscal system of the new rulers became fixed;[46] but this jizyah was too moderate to constitute a burden, seeing that it released them from the compulsory military service that was incumbent on their Muslim fellow-subjects. Conversion to Islam was certainly attended by a certain pecuniary advantage, but his former religion could have had but little hold on a convert who abandoned it merely to gain exemption from the jizyah; and now, instead of jizyah, the convert had to pay the legal alms, zakāt, annually levied on most kinds of movable and immovable property.[47] [[60]]The pecuniary temptation to escape the incidence of taxation by means of conversion was considerably lessened when financial considerations compelled the Arab government, towards the end of the first century, to insist on the new converts continuing to pay jizyah even after they had been received into the community of the faithful.[48] On the other hand it must be remembered that the non-Muslim sections of the population always ran the risk of becoming the victims of fiscal oppression when the state was in need of revenue.
The rates of jizyah levied by the early conquerors were not uniform,[49] and the great Muslim doctors, Abū Ḥanīfah and Mālik, are not in agreement on some of the less important details;[50] the following facts taken from the Kitāb al-K͟harāj, drawn up by Abū Yūsuf at the request of Hārūn al-Rashīd (A.D. 786–809) may be taken as generally representative of Muhammadan procedure under the ʻAbbāsid Caliphate. The rich were to pay forty-eight dirhams[51] a year, the middle classes twenty-four, while from the poor, i.e. the field-labourers and artisans, only twelve dirhams were taken. This tax could be paid in kind if desired; cattle, merchandise, household effects, even needles were to be accepted in lieu of specie, but not pigs, wine, or dead animals. The tax was to be levied only on able-bodied males, and not on women or children.[52] The poor who were dependent for their livelihood on alms and the aged poor who were incapable of work were also specially excepted, as also the blind, the lame, the incurables and the insane, unless they happened to be men of wealth; this same condition applied to priests and monks, who were exempt if dependent on the alms of the rich, but had to pay if they were well-to-do and lived in comfort. The collectors of the jizyah were particularly instructed to show leniency, and refrain from all harsh treatment or the infliction of corporal punishment, in case of non-payment.[53]
This tax was not imposed on the Christians, as some would have us think, as a penalty for their refusal to accept the Muslim faith, but was paid by them in common with the [[61]]other d͟himmīs or non-Muslim subjects of the state whose religion precluded them from serving in the army, in return for the protection secured for them by the arms of the Musalmans. When the people of Hīrah contributed the sum agreed upon, they expressly mentioned that they paid this jizyah on condition that “the Muslims and their leader protect us from those who would oppress us, whether they be Muslims or others.”[54] Again, in the treaty made by K͟hālid with some towns in the neighbourhood of Hīrah, he writes: “If we protect you, then jizyah is due to us; but if we do not, then it is not due.”[55] How clearly this condition was recognised by the Muhammadans may be judged from the following incident in the reign of the Caliph ʻUmar. The Emperor Heraclius had raised an enormous army with which to drive back the invading forces of the Muslims, who had in consequence to concentrate all their energies on the impending encounter. The Arab general, Abū ʻUbaydah, accordingly wrote to the governors of the conquered cities of Syria, ordering them to pay back all the jizyah that had been collected from the cities, and wrote to the people, saying, “We give you back the money that we took from you, as we have received news that a strong force is advancing against us. The agreement between us was that we should protect you, and as this is not now in our power, we return you all that we took. But if we are victorious we shall consider ourselves bound to you by the old terms of our agreement.” In accordance with this order, enormous sums were paid back out of the state treasury, and the Christians called down blessings on the heads of the Muslims, saying, “May God give you rule over us again and make you victorious over the Romans; had it been they, they would not have given us back anything, but would have taken all that remained with us.”[56]
As stated above, the jizyah was levied on the able-bodied males, in lieu of the military service they would have been called upon to perform had they been Musalmans; and it is very noticeable that when any Christian people served in the Muslim army, they were exempted from the payment [[62]]of this tax. Such was the case with the tribe of al-Jurājimah, a Christian tribe in the neighbourhood of Antioch, who made peace with the Muslims, promising to be their allies and fight on their side in battle, on condition that they should not be called upon to pay jizyah and should receive their proper share of the booty.[57] When the Arab conquests were pushed to the north of Persia in A.H. 22, a similar agreement was made with a frontier tribe, which was exempted from the payment of jizyah in consideration of military service.[58]
We find similar instances of the remission of jizyah in the case of Christians who served in the army or navy under the Turkish rule. For example, the inhabitants of Megaris, a community of Albanian Christians, were exempted from the payment of this tax on condition that they furnished a body of armed men to guard the passes over Mounts Cithæron and Geranea, which lead to the Isthmus of Corinth; the Christians who served as pioneers of the advance-guard of the Turkish army, repairing the roads and bridges, were likewise exempt from tribute and received grants of land quit of all taxation;[59] and the Christian inhabitants of Hydra paid no direct taxes to the Sultan, but furnished instead a contingent of 250 able-bodied seamen to the Turkish fleet, who were supported out of the local treasury.[60]
The Southern Rumanians, the so-called Armatoli,[61] who constituted so important an element of strength in the Turkish army during the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, and the Mirdites, a tribe of Albanian Catholics who occupied the mountains to the north of Scutari, were exempt from taxation on condition of supplying an armed contingent in time of war.[62] In the same spirit, in consideration of the services they rendered to the state, the capitation-tax was not imposed upon the Greek Christians who looked after the aqueducts that supplied Constantinople with drinking water,[63] nor on those who had charge of the powder-magazine in that city.[64] On the other hand, when the Egyptian [[63]]peasants, although Muslim in faith, were made exempt from military service, a tax was imposed upon them as on the Christians, in lieu thereof.[65]
Living under this security of life and property and such toleration of religious thought, the Christian community—especially in the towns—enjoyed a flourishing prosperity in the early days of the Caliphate.
Muʻāwiyah (661–680) employed Christians very largely in his service, and other members of the reigning house followed his example.[66] Christians frequently held high posts at court, e.g. a Christian Arab, al-Ak͟hṭal, was court poet, and the father of St. John of Damascus, counsellor to the caliph ʻAbd al-Malik (685–705). In the service of the caliph al-Muʻtaṣim (833–842), there were two brothers, Christians, who stood very high in the confidence of the Commander of the Faithful: the one, named Salmūyah, seems to have occupied somewhat the position of a modern secretary of state, and no royal documents were valid until countersigned by him, while his brother, Ibrāhīm, was entrusted with the care of the privy seal, and was set over the Bayt al-Māl or Public Treasury, an office that, from the nature of the funds and their disposal, might have been expected to have been put into the hands of a Muslim; so great was the caliph’s personal affection for this Ibrāhīm, that he visited him in his sickness, and was overwhelmed with grief at his death, and on the day of the funeral ordered the body to be brought to the palace and the Christian rites performed there with great solemnity.[67]
ʻAbd al-Malik appointed a certain Athanasius, a Christian scholar of Edessa, tutor to his brother, ʻAbd al-ʻAzīz. Athanasius accompanied his pupil, when he was appointed governor of Egypt, and there amassed great wealth; he is said to have possessed 4000 slaves, villages, houses, gardens, and gold and silver “like stones”; his sons took a dīnār from each of the soldiers when they received their pay, and as there were 30,000 troops then in Egypt, some idea may be formed of the wealth that Athanasius accumulated during [[64]]the twenty-one years that he spent in that country.[68] At the close of the eighth century, a certain Abū Nūḥ al-Anbārī was secretary to Abū Mūsạ̄ b. Muṣʻab, governor of Mosul, and used his powerful influence for the benefit of his Christian co-religionists.[69]
In the reign of al-Muʻtadid (892–902), the governor of Anbār, ʻUmar b. Yūsuf, was a Christian, and the caliph approved of the appointment on the ground that if a Christian were found to be competent, a post might well be given to him, as there were better reasons for trusting a Christian than either a Jew, a Muslim or a Zoroastrian.[70] Al-Muwaffaq, who was virtual ruler of the empire during the reign of his brother al-Muʻtamid (870–892), entrusted the administration of the army to a Christian named Israel, and his son, al-Muʻtaḍid, had as one of his secretaries another Christian, Malik b. al-Walīd. In a later reign, that of al-Muqtadir (908–932), a Christian was again in charge of the war office.[71]
Naṣr b. Hārūn, the Prime Minister of ʻAḍud al-Dawlah (949–982), of the Buwayhid dynasty of Persia, who ruled over Southern Persia and ʻIrāq, was a Christian.[72] For a long time, the government offices, especially in the department of finance, were filled with Christians and Persians;[73] to a much later date was such the case in Egypt, where at times the Christians almost entirely monopolised such posts.[74] Particularly as physicians, the Christians frequently amassed great wealth and were much honoured in the houses of the great. Gabriel, the personal physician of the caliph Hārūn al-Rashīd, was a Nestorian Christian and derived a yearly income of 800,000 dirhams from his private property, in addition to an emolument of 280,000 dirhams a year in return for his attendance on the caliph; the second physician, also a Christian, received 22,000 dirhams a year.[75] In trade and commerce, the Christians also attained considerable affluence: indeed it was frequently their wealth that excited against them the jealous [[65]]cupidity of the mob—a feeling that fanatics took advantage of, to persecute and oppress them. Further, the non-Muslim communities enjoyed an almost complete autonomy, for the government placed in their hands the independent management of their internal affairs, and their religious leaders exercised judicial functions in cases that concerned their co-religionists only.[76] Their churches and monasteries were, for the most part, not interfered with, except in the large cities, where some of them were turned into mosques—a measure that could hardly be objected to in view of the enormous increase in the Muslim and corresponding decrease in the Christian population.
Recent historical criticism has demonstrated the impossibility of the legend that when Damascus was taken by the Arabs, the churches were equally divided between the Christians and the conquerors, on the plea that while one Muslim general made his way into the city by the eastern gate at the point of the sword, another at the western gate received the submission of the governor of the city; a similar scrutiny of historical documents as well as of the topography of the building has shown that the great cathedral of St. John could never have been used in the manner described by some Arabic historians as a common place of worship for both Christians and Muslims.[77] But the very fact that these historians should have believed that such an arrangement continued for nearly eighty years, testifies to the early recognition of the liberty granted to the Christians of practising the observances of their religion.
The opinion of the Muhammadan legists is very diverse on this question, from the more liberal Ḥanafī doctrine, which declares that, though it is unlawful to construct churches and synagogues in Muhammadan territory, those already existing can be repaired if they have been destroyed or have fallen into decay, while in villages and hamlets, where the tokens of Islam do not appear, new churches and synagogues may be built—to the intolerant Ḥanbalite view that they may neither be erected nor be restored when damaged or ruined. Some legists held that the privileges varied according to treaty rights: in towns taken by force, [[66]]no new houses of prayer might be erected by d͟himmīs, but if a special treaty had been made, the building of new churches and synagogues was allowed.[78] But like so many of the lucubrations of Muhammadan legists, these prescriptions bore but little relation to actual facts.[79] Schoolmen might agree that the d͟himmīs could build no houses of prayer in a city of Muslim foundation, but the civil authority permitted the Copts to erect churches in the new capital of Cairo.[80] In other cities also the Christians were allowed to erect new churches and monasteries. The very fact that ʻUmar II (717–720), at the close of the first century of the Hijrah, should have ordered the destruction of all recently constructed churches,[81] and that rather more than a century later, the fanatical al-Mutawakkil (847–861) should have had to repeat the same order, shows how little the prohibition of the building of new churches was put into force.[82] We have numerous instances recorded, both by Christian and Muhammadan historians, of the building of new churches: e.g. in the reign of ʻAbd al-Malik (685–705), a wealthy Christian of Edessa, named Athanasius, erected in his native city a fine church dedicated to the Mother of God, and a Baptistery in honour of the picture of Christ that was reputed to have been sent to King Abgar; he also built a number of churches and monasteries in various parts of Egypt, among them two magnificent churches in Fusṭāṭ.[83] Some Christian chamberlains in the service of ʻAbd al-ʻAziz b. Marwān (brother of ʻAbd al-Malik), the governor of Egypt, obtained permission to build a church in Ḥalwān, which was dedicated to St. John,[84] though this town was a Muslim creation. In A.D. 711 a Jacobite church was built at Antioch by order of the caliph al-Walīd (705–715).[85] In the first year of the reign of Yazīd [[67]]II (A.D. 720), Mār Elias, the Jacobite Patriarch of Antioch, made a solemn entry into Antioch, accompanied by his clergy and monks, to consecrate a new church which he had caused to be built; and in the following year he consecrated another church in the village of Sarmada, in the district of Antioch, and the only opposition he met with was from the rival Christian sect that accepted the Council of Chalcedon.[86] In the following reign, K͟hālid al-Qasrī, who was governor of Arabian and Persian ʻIrāq from 724 to 738, built a church for his mother, who was a Christian, to worship in.[87] In 759 the building of a church at Nisibis was completed, on which the Nestorian bishop, Cyprian, had expended a sum of 56,000 dīnārs.[88] From the same century dates the church of Abū Sirjah in the ancient Roman fortress in old Cairo.[89] In the reign of al-Mahdī (775–785) a church was erected in Bag͟hdād for the use of the Christian prisoners that had been taken captive during the numerous campaigns against the Byzantine empire.[90] Another church was built in the same city, in the reign of Hārūn al-Rashīd (786–809), by the people of Samālū, who had submitted to the caliph and received protection from him;[91] during the same reign Sergius, the Nestorian Metropolitan of Baṣrah, received permission to build a church in that city,[92] though it was a Muslim foundation, having been created by the caliph ʻUmar in the year 638, and a magnificent church was erected in Babylon in which were enshrined the bodies of the prophets Daniel and Ezechiel.[93] When al-Maʼmūn (813–833) was in Egypt he gave permission to two of his chamberlains to erect a church on al-Muqaṭṭam, a hill near Cairo; and by the same caliph’s leave, a wealthy Christian, named Bukām, built several fine churches at Būrah in Egypt.[94] The Nestorian Patriarch, Timotheus, who died A.D. 820, erected a church at Takrīt and a monastery at Bag͟hdād.[95] In the tenth century, the beautiful Coptic church of Abū [[68]]Sayfayn was built in Fusṭāṭ.[96] A new church was built at Jiddah in the reign of al-Ẓāhir, the seventh Fāṭimid caliph of Egypt (1020–1035).[97] New churches and monasteries were also built in the reign of the ʻAbbāsid, al-Mustaḍī (1170–1180).[98] In 1187 a church was built at Fusṭāṭ and dedicated to Our Lady the Pure Virgin.[99]
Indeed, so far from the development of the Christian Church being hampered by the establishment of Muhammadan rule, the history of the Nestorians exhibits a remarkable outburst of religious life and energy from the time of their becoming subject to the Muslims.[100] Alternately petted and persecuted by the Persian kings, in whose dominions by far the majority of the members of this sect were found, it had passed a rather precarious existence and had been subjected to harsh treatment, when war between Persia and Byzantium exposed it to the suspicion of sympathising with the Christian enemy. But, under the rule of the caliphs, the security they enjoyed at home enabled them to vigorously push forward their missionary enterprises abroad. Missionaries were sent into China and India, both of which were raised to the dignity of metropolitan sees in the eighth century; about the same period they gained a footing in Egypt, and later spread the Christian faith right across Asia, and by the eleventh century had gained many converts from among the Tatars.[101]
If the other Christian sects failed to exhibit the same vigorous life, it was not the fault of the Muhammadans. All were tolerated alike by the supreme government, and furthermore were prevented from persecuting one another.[102] In the fifth century, Barsauma, a Nestorian bishop, had persuaded the Persian king to set on foot a fierce persecution [[69]]of the Orthodox Church, by representing Nestorius as a friend of the Persians and his doctrines as approximating to their own; as many as 7800 of the Orthodox clergy, with an enormous number of laymen, are said to have been butchered during this persecution.[103] Another persecution was instituted against the Orthodox by K͟husrau II, after the invasion of Persia by Heraclius, at the instigation of a Jacobite, who persuaded the King that the Orthodox would always be favourably inclined towards the Byzantines.[104] But the principles of Muslim toleration forbade such acts of injustice as these: on the contrary, it seems to have been their endeavour to deal fairly by all their Christian subjects: e.g. after the conquest of Egypt, the Jacobites took advantage of the expulsion of the Byzantine authorities to rob the Orthodox of their churches, but later they were restored by the Muhammadans to their rightful owners when these had made good their claim to possess them.[105]
In view of the toleration thus extended to their Christian subjects in the early period of the Muslim rule, the common hypothesis of the sword as the factor of conversion seems hardly satisfactory, and we are compelled to seek for other motives than that of persecution. But unfortunately very few details are forthcoming and we are obliged to have recourse to conjecture.[106] In an age so prolific of theological speculation, there may well have been some thinkers whose trend of thought had prepared them for the acceptance of the Muhammadan position. Such were those Shahrīghān or landed proprietors in Persia in the eighth century, who were nominally Christians, but maintained that Christ was an ordinary man and that he was as one of the Prophets.[107] They appear at times to have given a good deal of trouble [[70]]to the Nestorian clergy, who were at great pains to draw them into the paths of orthodoxy;[108] but their theological position was more closely akin to Islam than to Christian doctrine, and they probably went to swell the ranks of the converts after the Arab conquest of the Persian empire.
Many Christian theologians[109] have supposed that the debased condition—moral and spiritual—of the Eastern Church of that period must have alienated the hearts of many and driven them to seek a healthier spiritual atmosphere in the faith of Islam which had come to them in all the vigour of new-born zeal.[110] For example, Dean Milman[111] asks, “What was the state of the Christian world in the provinces exposed to the first invasion of Mohammedanism? Sect opposed to sect, clergy wrangling with clergy upon the most abstruse and metaphysical points of doctrine. The orthodox, the Nestorians, the Eutychians, the Jacobites were persecuting each other with unexhausted animosity; and it is not judging too severely the evils of religious controversy to suppose that many would rejoice in the degradation of their adversaries under the yoke of the unbeliever, rather than make common cause with them in defence of the common Christianity. In how many must this incessant disputation have shaken the foundations of their faith! It had been wonderful if thousands had not, in their weariness and perplexity, sought refuge from these interminable and implacable controversies in the simple, intelligible truth of the Divine Unity, though purchased by the acknowledgment of the prophetic mission of Mohammed.” Similarly, Caetani sees in the spread of Islam, among the Christians of the Eastern Churches, a revulsion of feeling from the dogmatic subtleties introduced into Christian theology by the Hellenistic spirit. “For the East, with its love of clear and simple concepts, Hellenic culture was, from the religious point of view, a misfortune, because [[71]]it changed the sublime and simple teachings of Christ into a creed bristling with incomprehensible dogmas, full of doubts and uncertainties; these ended with producing a feeling of deep dismay and shook the very foundations of religious belief; so that when at last there appeared, coming out suddenly from the desert, the news of the new revelation, this bastard oriental Christianity, torn asunder by internal discords, wavering in its fundamental dogmas, dismayed by such incertitudes, could no longer resist the temptations of a new faith, which swept away at one single stroke all miserable doubts, and offered, along with simple, clear and undisputed doctrines, great material advantages also. The East then abandoned Christ and threw itself into the arms of the Prophet of Arabia.”[112]
Again, Canon Taylor[113] says: “It is easy to understand why this reformed Judaism spread so swiftly over Africa and Asia. The African and Syrian doctors had substituted abstruse metaphysical dogmas for the religion of Christ: they tried to combat the licentiousness of the age by setting forth the celestial merit of celibacy and the angelic excellence of virginity—seclusion from the world was the road of holiness, dirt was the characteristic of monkish sanctity—the people were practically polytheists, worshipping a crowd of martyrs, saints and angels; the upper classes were effeminate and corrupt, the middle classes oppressed by taxation,[114] the slaves without hope for the present or the future. As with the besom of God, Islam swept away this mass of corruption and superstition. It was a revolt against empty theological polemics; it was a masculine protest against the exaltation of celibacy as a crown of piety. It brought out the fundamental dogmas of religion—the unity and greatness of God, that He is merciful and righteous, that He claims obedience to His will, resignation and faith. It proclaimed the responsibility of man, a future life, a day of judgment, and stern retribution to fall upon the wicked; and enforced the duties of prayer, almsgiving, fasting and [[72]]benevolence. It thrust aside the artificial virtues, the religious frauds and follies, the perverted moral sentiments, and the verbal subtleties of theological disputants. It replaced monkishness by manliness. It gave hope to the slave, brotherhood to mankind, and recognition to the fundamental facts of human nature.”
Islam has, moreover, been represented as a reaction against that Byzantine ecclesiasticism,[115] which looked upon the emperor and his court as a copy of the Divine Majesty on high, and the emperor himself as not only the supreme earthly ruler of Christendom, but as High-priest also.[116] Under Justinian this system had been hardened into a despotism that pressed like an iron weight upon clergy and laity alike. In 532 the widespread dissatisfaction in Constantinople with both church and state, burst out into a revolt against the government of Justinian, which was only suppressed after a massacre of 35,000 persons. The Greens, as the party of the malcontents was termed, had made open and violent protest in the circus against the oppression of the emperor, crying out, “Justice has vanished from the world and is no more to be found. But we will become Jews, or rather we will return again to Grecian paganism.”[117] The lapse of a century had removed none of the grounds for the dissatisfaction that here found such violent expression, but the heavy hand of the Byzantine government prevented the renewal of such an outbreak as that of 532 and compelled the malcontents to dissemble, though in 560 some secret heathens were detected in Constantinople and punished.[118] On the borders of the empire, however, at a distance from the capital, such malcontents were safer, and the persecuted heretics, and others dissatisfied with the [[73]]Byzantine state-church, took refuge in the East, and here the Muslim armies would be welcomed by the spiritual children of those who a hundred years before had desired to exchange the Christian religion for another faith.
Further, the general adoption of the Arabic language throughout the empire of the caliphate, especially in the towns and the great centres of population, and the gradual assimilation in manners and customs that in the course of about two centuries caused the numerous conquered races to be largely merged in the national life of the ruling race, had no doubt a counterpart in the religious and intellectual life of many members of the protected religions. The rationalistic movement that so powerfully influenced Muslim theology from the second to the fifth century of the Hijrah may very possibly have influenced Christian thinkers, and turned them from a religion, the prevailing tone of whose theology seems at this time to have been Credo quia impossibile. A Muhammadan writer of the fourth century of the Hijrah has preserved for us a conversation with a Coptic Christian which may safely be taken as characteristic of the general mental attitude of the rest of the Eastern Churches at this period:—
“My proof for the truth of Christianity is, that I find its teachings contradictory and mutually destructive, for they are repugnant to reason and revolting to the intellect, on account of their inconsistency and mutual contrariety. No reflection can strengthen them, no discussion can prove them; and however thoughtfully we may investigate them, neither the intellect nor the senses can provide us with any argument in support of them. Notwithstanding this, I have seen that many nations and mighty kings of learning and sound judgment, have given in their allegiance to the Christian faith; so I conclude that if these have accepted it in spite of all the contradictions referred to, it is because the proofs they have received, in the form of signs and miracles, have compelled them to submit to it.”[119]
On the other hand, it should be remembered that those who passed over from Christianity to Islam, under the influence of the rationalistic tendencies of the age, would [[74]]find in the Muʻtazilite presentment of Muslim theology, very much that was common to the two faiths, so that as far as the articles of belief and the intellectual attitude towards many theological questions were concerned, the transition was not so violent as might be supposed. To say nothing of the numerous fundamental doctrines, that will at once suggest themselves to those even who have only a slight knowledge of the teachings of the Prophet, there were many other common points of view, that were the direct consequences of the close relationships between the Christian and Muhammadan theologians in Damascus under the Umayyad caliphs as also in later times; for it has been maintained that there is clear evidence of the influence of the Byzantine theologians on the development of the systematic treatment of Muhammadan dogmatics. The very form and arrangement of the oldest rule of faith in the Arabic language suggest a comparison with similar treatises of St. John of Damascus and other Christian fathers.[120] The oldest Arab Ṣūfīism, the trend of which was purely towards the ascetic life (as distinguished from the later pantheistic Ṣūfīism) originated largely under the influence of Christian thought.[121] Such influence is especially traceable in the doctrines of some of the Muʻtazilite sects,[122] who busied themselves with speculations on the attributes of the divine nature quite in the manner of the Byzantine theologians: the Qadariyyah or libertarians of Islam probably borrowed their doctrine of the freedom of the will directly from Christianity, while the Murjiʼah in their denial of the doctrine of eternal punishment were in thorough agreement with the teaching of the Eastern Church on this subject as against the generally received opinion of orthodox Muslims.[123] On the other hand, the influence of the more orthodox doctors of Islam in the conversion of unbelievers is attested by the tradition that twenty thousand Christians, Jews and Magians became Muslims when the great Imām Ibn Ḥanbal died.[124] A celebrated [[75]]doctor of the same sect, Abu’l-Faraj b. al-Jawzī (A.D. 1115–1201), the most learned man of his time, a popular preacher and most prolific writer, is said to have boasted that just the same number of persons accepted the faith of Islam at his hands.[125]
Further, the vast and unparalleled success of the Muslim arms shook the faith of the Christian peoples that came under their rule and saw in these conquests the hand of God.[126] Worldly prosperity they associated with the divine favour and the God of battle (they thought) would surely give the victory only into the hands of his favoured servants. Thus the very success of the Muhammadans seemed to argue the truth of their religion.
The Islamic ideal of the brotherhood of all believers was a powerful attraction towards this creed, and though the Arab pride of birth strove to refuse for several generations the privileges of the ruling race to the new converts, still as “clients” of the various Arab tribes to which at first they used to be affiliated, they received a recognised position in the community, and by the close of the first century of the Hijrah they had vindicated for this ideal its true place in Muslim theology and at least a theoretical recognition in the state.[127]
But the condition of the Christians did not always continue to be so tolerable as under the earlier caliphs. In the interests of the true believers, vexatious conditions were sometimes imposed upon the non-Muslim population (or d͟himmīs), with the object of securing for the faithful superior social advantages. Unsuccessful attempts were made by several caliphs to exclude them from the public offices. Decrees to this effect were passed by al-Manṣūr (754–775), al-Mutawakkil (847–861), al-Muqtadir (908–932), and in Egypt by al-Āmir (1101–1130), one of the Fāṭimid caliphs, and by the Mamlūk Sultans in the [[76]]fourteenth century.[128] But the very fact that these decrees excluding the d͟himmīs from government posts were so often renewed, is a sign of the want of any continuity or persistency in putting such intolerant measures into practice. In fact they may generally be traced either to popular indignation excited by the harsh and insolent behaviour of Christian officials,[129] or to outbursts of fanaticism which forced upon the government acts of oppression that were contrary to the general spirit of Muslim rule and were consequently allowed to lapse as soon as possible.
The beginning of a harsher treatment of the native Christian population dates from the reign of Hārūn al-Rashīd (786–809) who ordered them to wear a distinctive dress and give up the government posts they held to Muslims. The first of these orders shows how little one at least of the ordinances ascribed to ʻUmar was observed, and these decrees were the outcome, not so much of any purely religious feeling, as of the political circumstances of the time. The Christians under Muhammadan rule have often had to suffer for the bad faith kept by foreign Christian powers in their relations with Muhammadan princes, and on this occasion it was the treachery of the Byzantine Emperor, Nicephorus, that caused the Christian name to stink in the nostrils of Hārūn.[130] Many of the persecutions of Christians in Muslim countries can be traced either to distrust of their loyalty, excited by the intrigues and interference of Christian foreigners and the enemies of Islam, or to the bad feeling stirred up by the treacherous or brutal behaviour of the latter towards the Musalmans. Religious fanaticism is, however, responsible for many of such persecutions, as in the reign of the Caliph al-Mutawakkil (847–861), under whom severe measures of oppression were taken against the Christians. This prince took advantage of the strong Orthodox reaction that had set in in Muhammadan theology against the rationalistic and freethinking tendencies that [[77]]had had free play under former rulers,—and came forward as the champion of the extreme orthodox party, to which the mass of the people as contrasted with the higher classes belonged,[131] and which was eager to exact vengeance for the persecutions it had itself suffered in the two preceding reigns;[132] he sought to curry their favour by persecuting the Muʻtazilites, forbidding all further discussions on the Qurʼān and declaring the doctrine that it was created, to be heretical; he had the followers of ʻAlī imprisoned and beaten, pulled down the tomb of Ḥusayn at Karbalāʼ and forbade pilgrimages to be made to the site. The Christians shared in the sufferings of the other heretics; for al-Mutawakkil put rigorously into force the rules that had been passed in former reigns prescribing a distinction in the dress of d͟himmīs and Muslims, ordered that the Christians should no longer be employed in the public offices, doubled the capitation-tax, forbade them to have Muslim slaves or use the same baths as the Muslims, and harassed them with several other restrictions.
It is noteworthy that the historians of the Nestorian Church—which had to suffer most from this persecution—describe it as something new and individual to al-Mutawakkil, and as ceasing with his death.[133] One of his successors, al-Muqtadir (A.D. 908–932), renewed these regulations, which the lapse of half a century had apparently caused to fall into disuse.
Other outbursts of fanaticism led to the destruction of churches and synagogues,[134] and the terror of such persecution led to the defection of many from the Christian Church.[135] But such oppression was contrary to the tolerant spirit of Islam, and to the teaching traditionally ascribed to the Prophet;[136] and the fanatical party tried in vain to enforce [[78]]the persistent execution of these oppressive measures for the humiliation of the non-Muslim population. “The ʻulamaʼ (i.e. the learned, the clergy) consider this state of things; they weep and groan in silence, while the princes who had the power of putting down these criminal abuses only shut their eyes to them.”[137] The rules that a fanatical priesthood may lay down for the repression of unbelievers cannot always be taken as a criterion of the practice of civil governments: it is failure to realise this fact that has rendered possible the highly-coloured pictures of the sufferings of the Christians under Muhammadan rule, drawn by writers who have assumed that the prescriptions of certain Muslim theologians represented an invariable practice. Such outbursts of persecution seem in some cases to have been excited by the alleged abuse of their position by those Christians who held high posts in the service of the government; they aroused considerable hostility of feeling towards themselves by their oppression of the Muslims, it being said that they took advantage of their high position to plunder and annoy the faithful, treating them with great harshness and rudeness and despoiling them of their lands and money. Such complaints were laid before the caliphs al-Manṣūr (754–775), al-Mahdī (775–785), al-Maʼmūn (813–833), al-Mutawakkil (847–861), al-Muqtadir (908–932), and many of their successors.[138] They also incurred the odium of many Muhammadans by acting as the spies of the ʻAbbāsid dynasty and hunting down the adherents of the displaced Umayyad family.[139] At a later period, during the time of the Crusades they were accused of treasonable correspondence with the Crusaders[140] and brought on themselves severe restrictive measures which cannot justly be described as religious persecution.
In proportion as the lot of the conquered peoples became harder to bear, the more irresistible was the temptation to free themselves from their miseries, by the words, “There is no god but God: Muḥammad is the Apostle of God.” [[79]]When the state was in need of money—as was increasingly the case—the subject races were more and more burdened with taxes, so that the condition of the non-Muslims was constantly growing more unendurable, and conversions to Islam increased in the same proportion. The dreary record of scandals, with which the pages of the Christian historians of this later period are filled, would suggest that the Christian Churches had failed to develop a moral fibre strong enough to endure the stress of adverse conditions, and when persecution came, the reason for the defection that followed might—as the historian of the Nestorian Church suggests[141]—be sought for in the prevailing negligence in the performance of religious duties and the evil life of the clergy.
Further causes that contributed to the decrease of the Christian population may be found in the fact that the children of the numerous Christian captive women who were carried off to the harems of the Muslims had to be brought up in the religion of their fathers, and in the frequent temptation that was offered to the Christian slave by an indulgent master, of purchasing his freedom at the price of conversion to Islam. But of any organised attempt to force the acceptance of Islam on the non-Muslim population, or of any systematic persecution intended to stamp out the Christian religion, we hear nothing. Had the caliphs chosen to adopt either course of action, they might have swept away Christianity as easily as Ferdinand and Isabella drove Islam out of Spain, or Louis XIV made Protestantism penal in France, or the Jews were kept out of England for 350 years. The Eastern Churches in Asia were entirely cut off from communion with the rest of Christendom, throughout which no one would have been found to lift a finger on their behalf, as heretical communions. So that the very survival of these Churches to the present day is a strong proof of the generally [[80]]tolerant attitude of the Muhammadan governments towards them.[142]
Of the ancient Churches in Western Asia at the time of the Muhammadan conquest, there still survive about 150,000 Nestorians,[143] and their number would have been larger but for the proselytising efforts of other Christian Churches; the Chaldees who have submitted to the Church of Rome number 70,000, in 1898 the Nestorian Bishop Mār Jonan, with several of the clergy and 15,000 Nestorians were received into the Orthodox Russian Church; and numbers of Nestorians have also become Protestants.[144] The Jacobite Patriarch of Antioch exercises jurisdiction over about 80,000 members of this ancient Church, while 25,000 families of Uniat Jacobites obey the Syrian Catholic Patriarch.[145] Belonging to the Greek Orthodox Church, there are 28,836 families under the Patriarch of Antioch and more than 15,000 persons under the Patriarch of Jerusalem,[146] while the Melchites or Greek-Catholics number about 130,000.[147] The Maronite Church, which has been in union with the Roman Catholic Church since the year 1182, has a following of 300,000.[148]
The marvel is that these isolated and scattered communities should have survived so long, exposed as they have been to the ravages of war, pestilence and famine,[149] living in a country that was for centuries a continual battle-field, overrun by Turks, Mongols and Crusaders,[150] it being [[81]]further remembered that they were forbidden by the Muhammadan law to make good this decay of their numbers by proselytising efforts—if indeed they had cared to do so, for they seem (with the exception of the Nestorians) even before the Muhammadan conquest, to have lost that missionary spirit, without which, as history abundantly shows, no healthy life is possible in a Christian Church. It has also been suggested that the monastic ideal of continence so widespread in the East, and the Christian practice of monogamy, together with the sense of insecurity and their servile condition, may have acted as checks on the growth of the Christian population.[151]
Of the details of conversion to Islam we have hardly any information. At the time of the first occupation of their country by the Arabs, the Christians appear to have gone over to Islam in very large numbers. Some idea of the extent of these early conversions in ʻIrāq for example may be formed from the fact that the income from taxation in the reign of ʻUmar was from 100 to 120 million dirhams, while in the reign of ʻAbd al-Malik, about fifty years later, it had sunk to forty millions: while this fall in the revenue is largely attributable to the devastation caused by wars and insurrections, still it was chiefly due to the fact that large numbers of the population had become Muhammadan and consequently could no longer be called upon to pay the capitation-tax.[152]
This same period witnesses the conversion of large numbers of the Christians of K͟hurāsān, as we learn from a letter of a contemporary ecclesiastic, the Nestorian Patriarch Īshōʻyabh III, addressed to Simeon, the Metropolitan of Rev-Ardashīr and Primate of Persia. We possess so very few Christian documents of the first century of the Hijrah, and this letter bears such striking testimony to the peaceful character of the spread of the new faith, and has moreover been so little noticed by modern historians—that it may well be quoted here at length. “Where are thy sons, O father bereft of sons? Where is that great people of Merv, who though they beheld neither sword, nor fire or tortures, captivated [[82]]only by love for a moiety of their goods, have turned aside, like fools, from the true path and rushed headlong into the pit of faithlessness—into everlasting destruction, and have utterly been brought to nought, while two priests only (priests at least in name), have, like brands snatched from the burning, escaped the devouring flames of infidelity. Alas, alas! Out of so many thousands who bore the name of Christians, not even one single victim was consecrated unto God by the shedding of his blood for the true faith. Where, too, are the sanctuaries of Kirmān and all Persia? it is not the coming of Satan or the mandates of the kings of the earth or the orders of governors of provinces that have laid them waste and in ruins—but the feeble breath of one contemptible little demon, who was not deemed worthy of the honour of demons by those demons who sent him on his errand, nor was endowed by Satan the seducer with the power of diabolical deceit, that he might display it in your land; but merely by the nod of his command he has thrown down all the churches of your Persia.… And the Arabs, to whom God at this time has given the empire of the world, behold, they are among you, as ye know well: and yet they attack not the Christian faith, but, on the contrary, they favour our religion, do honour to our priests and the saints of the Lord, and confer benefits on churches and monasteries. Why then have your people of Merv abandoned their faith for the sake of these Arabs? and that, too, when the Arabs, as the people of Merv themselves declare, have not compelled them to leave their own religion but suffered them to keep it safe and undefiled if they gave up only a moiety of their goods. But forsaking the faith which brings eternal salvation, they clung to a moiety of the goods of this fleeting world: that faith which whole nations have purchased and even to this day do purchase by the shedding of their blood and gain thereby the inheritance of eternal life, your people of Merv were willing to barter for a moiety of their goods—and even less.”[153] The reign of the caliph ʻUmar II (A.D. 717–720) particularly was marked with very extensive conversions: he organised a zealous missionary movement and offered every kind of inducement to the [[83]]conquered peoples to accept Islam, even making them grants of money; on one occasion he is said to have given a Christian military officer the sum of 1000 dīnārs to induce him to accept Islam.[154] He instructed the governors of the provinces to invite the d͟himmīs to the Muslim faith, and al-Jarrāḥ b. ʻAbd Allāh, governor of K͟hurāsān, is said to have converted about 4000 persons.[155] He is even said to have written a letter to the Byzantine Emperor, Leo III, urging on him the acceptance of the faith of Islam.[156] He abrogated the decree passed in A.D. 700 for the purpose of arresting the impoverishment of the treasury, according to which the convert to Islam was not released from the capitation-tax, but was compelled to continue to pay it as before; even though the d͟himmī apostatised the very day before his yearly payment of the jizyah was due or while his contribution was actually being weighed in the scales, it was to be remitted to the new convert.[157] He no longer exacted the k͟harāj from the Muhammadan owners of landed property, and imposed upon them the far lighter burden of a tithe. These measures, though financially most ruinous, were eminently successful in the way the pious-minded caliph desired they should be, and enormous numbers hastened to enrol themselves among the Muslims.[158]
It must not, however, be supposed that such worldly considerations were the only influences at work in the conversion of the Christians to Islam. The controversial works of St. John of Damascus, of the same century, give us glimpses of the zealous Muslim striving to undermine by his arguments the foundations of the Christian faith. The very dialogue form into which these treatises are thrown, and the frequent repetition of such phrases as “If the Saracen asks you,”—“If the Saracen says … then tell him” …—give them an air of vraisemblance and make them appear as if they were intended to provide the Christians with ready answers to the numerous objections which their Muslim neighbours brought against the Christian creed.[159] That the aggressive attitude of the Muhammadan disputant is [[84]]most prominently brought forward in these dialogues is only what might be expected, it being no part of this great theologian’s purpose to enshrine in his writings an apology for Islam. His pupil, Bishop Theodore Abū Qurrah, also wrote several controversial dialogues[160] with Muhammadans, in which the disputants range over all the points of dispute between the two faiths, the Muslim as before being the first to take up the cudgels, and enabling us to form some slight idea of the activity with which the cause of Islam was prosecuted at this period. “The thoughts of the Agarenes,” says the bishop, “and all their zeal, are directed towards the denial of the divinity of God the Word, and they strain every effort to this end.”[161] The Nestorian Patriarch, Timotheus, used to hold discussions on religious matters in the presence of the caliphs, al-Hādī and Hārūn al-Rashīd, and embodied them in a work that is now lost.[162] Timotheus had secured his election to the patriarchate in the face of the active opposition of many of the most powerful ecclesiastics of his own Church; among these was Joseph, the metropolitan of Merv, who intrigued against him with the caliph, al-Mahdī (775–785), but was persuaded by the caliph to accept Islam and was rewarded for his apostasy with rich presents and an official appointment in Baṣrah.[163]
These details from the first two centuries of the Hijrah are meagre in the extreme and rather suggest the existence of proselytising efforts than furnish definite facts. The earliest document of a distinctly missionary character which has come down to us, would seem to date from the reign of al-Maʼmūn (813–833), and takes the form of a letter[164] written by a cousin of the caliph to a Christian Arab of noble birth and of considerable distinction at the court, and held in high esteem by al-Maʼmūn himself. In this letter he begs his friend to embrace Islam, in terms of affectionate appeal and in language that strikingly illustrates the tolerant attitude of the Muslims towards the Christian Church at this period. This letter occupies an almost unique place in the early history of the propagation of Islam, and has [[85]]on this account been given in full in an appendix.[165] In the same work we have a report of a speech made by the caliph at an assembly of his nobles, in which he speaks in tones of the strongest contempt of those who had become Muhammadans merely out of worldly and selfish motives, and compares them to the Hypocrites who while pretending to be friends of the Prophet, in secret plotted against his life. But just as the Prophet returned good for evil, so the caliph resolves to treat these persons with courtesy and forbearance until God should decide between them.[166] The record of this complaint on the part of the caliph is interesting as indicating that disinterested and genuine conviction was expected and looked for in the new convert to Islam, and that the discovery of self-seeking and unworthy motives drew upon him the severest censure.
Al-Maʼmūn himself was very zealous in his efforts to spread the faith of Islam, and sent invitations to unbelievers even in the most distant parts of his dominions, such as Transoxania and Farg͟hānah.[167] At the same time he did not abuse his royal power, by attempting to force his own faith upon others: when a certain Yazdānbak͟ht, a leader of the Manichæan sect, came on a visit to Bag͟hdād[168] and held a disputation with the Muslim theologians, in which he was utterly silenced, the caliph tried to induce him to embrace Islam. But Yazdānbak͟ht refused, saying, “Commander of the faithful, your advice is heard and your words have been listened to; but you are one of those who do not force men to abandon their religion.” So far from resenting the ill-success of his efforts, the caliph furnished him with a bodyguard, that he might not be exposed to insult from the fanatical populace.[169] [[86]]
Some scanty references are made by Christian historians to cases of ecclesiastical dignitaries who became Muhammadans, e.g. George, Bishop of Baḥrayn, about the middle of the ninth century, having been deposed from his office for some ecclesiastical offence, exchanged the Christian faith for that of Islam,[170] and the conversion of a brother of Gabriel, metropolitan of Fārs about the middle of the tenth century, only receives mention because the fact of his having become a Muslim was alleged as disqualifying Gabriel for election to the patriarchate of the Nestorian church.[171]
In the early part of the same century, Theodore, the Nestorian Bishop of Beth Garmai, became a Muslim, and there is no mention of any force or compulsion by the ecclesiastical historian[172] who records the fact, as there undoubtedly would have been, had such existed. Some years later (between A.D. 962 and 979), Philoxenos, a Jacobite Bishop of Ād͟harbayjān, also became a Muslim,[173] and in the following century, in 1016, Ignatius,[174] the Jacobite Metropolitan of Takrīt, who had held this office for twenty-five years, set out for Bag͟hdād and embraced Islam in the presence of the caliph al-Qādir, taking the name of Abū Muslim.[175] It would be exceedingly interesting if an Apologia pro Vita Sua had survived to reveal to us the religious development that took place in the mind of either of these converts. The Christian chronicler hints at immorality in the last three cases, but such an accusation uncorroborated by any further evidence is open to suspicion,[176] much as it would be [[87]]if brought forward by a Roman Catholic when recording the conversion of a priest of his own communion to the Protestant faith. It is doubtless owing to their exalted position in the Church that the conversion of these prominent ecclesiastics of two hostile Christian sects has been handed down to us, while that of more obscure individuals has not been recorded. As Barhebræus brings his ecclesiastical chronicle nearer to his own time, he gives fuller details of the career of such converts, e.g. in recording the public lapse of some of the Jacobite bishops, in the middle of the twelfth century he makes particular mention of Aaron, bishop of a town in K͟hurāsān, as having become a Muhammadan after having been convicted of some moral fault; repenting of this change, he wished to regain his episcopal status, and when this was refused him, went to Constantinople and abjured the Monophysite doctrines of the Jacobite Church; then apparently dissatisfied with the reception he received in Constantinople, he returned to the Jacobite Patriarch, but a second time went over to Islam “without any reason”; then repenting again, he finally ended his days among the Maronites of Mount Lebanon.[177] A contemporary of Barhebræus, in the middle of the thirteenth century—Daniel, Bishop of Khabur—who is said to have been proficient in secular learning, sought to be appointed to the diocese of Aleppo, but disappointed in this ambition, he abandoned the Christian faith and to the grief and shame of all Christian people “became a Muslim; but God (praise be to His grace!) soon consoled his afflicted people and took away the shame from the redeemed, the redeemed of the Lord; for a few months later that unhappy wretch died miserably in a caravanserai; his name perished, he was taken away out of our midst, and no man knoweth his abiding place.”[178]
But that these conversions were not merely isolated instances we have the valuable evidence of Jacques de Vitry, Bishop of Acre (1216–1225), who thus speaks of the Eastern Church from his experience of it in the Holy Land:—[[88]]“Weakened and lamentably ensnared, nay rather grievously wounded, by the lying persuasions of the false prophet and by the allurements of carnal pleasure, she hath sunk down, and she that was brought up in scarlet, hath embraced dunghills.”[179]
So far the Christian Churches that have been described as coming within the sphere of Muhammadan influence, have been the Orthodox Eastern Church and the heretical communions that had sprung out of it. But with the close of the eleventh century a fresh element was added to the Christian population of Syria and Palestine, in the large bodies of Crusaders of the Latin rite who settled in the kingdom of Jerusalem and the other states founded by the Crusaders, which maintained a precarious existence for nearly two centuries. During this period, occasional conversions to Islam were made from among these foreign immigrants. In the first Crusade, for example, a body of Germans and Lombards under the command of a certain knight, named Rainaud, had separated themselves from the main body and were besieged in a castle by the Saljūq Sultan, Arslān; on pretence of making a sortie, Rainaud and his personal followers abandoned their unfortunate companions and went over to the Turks, among whom they embraced Islam.[180]
The history of the ill-fated second Crusade presents us with a very remarkable incident of a similar character. The story, as told by Odo of Deuil, a monk of St. Denis, who, in the capacity of private chaplain to Louis VII, accompanied him on this Crusade and wrote a graphic account of it, runs as follows. While endeavouring to make their way overland through Asia Minor to Jerusalem the Crusaders sustained a disastrous defeat at the hands of the Turks in the mountain-passes of Phrygia (A.D. 1148), and with difficulty reached the seaport town of Attalia. Here, all who could afford to satisfy the exorbitant demands of the Greek merchants, took ship for Antioch; while the sick and wounded and the mass of the pilgrims were left behind at the mercy of their treacherous allies, the Greeks, who received five hundred [[89]]marks from Louis, on condition that they provided an escort for the pilgrims and took care of the sick until they were strong enough to be sent on after the others. But no sooner had the army left, than the Greeks informed the Turks of the helpless condition of the pilgrims, and quietly looked on while famine, disease and the arrows of the enemy carried havoc and destruction through the camp of these unfortunates. Driven to desperation, a party of three or four thousand attempted to escape, but were surrounded and cut to pieces by the Turks, who now pressed on to the camp to follow up their victory. The situation of the survivors would have been utterly hopeless, had not the sight of their misery melted the hearts of the Muhammadans to pity. They tended the sick and relieved the poor and starving with open-handed liberality. Some even bought up the French money which the Greeks had got out of the pilgrims by force or cunning, and lavishly distributed it among the needy. So great was the contrast between the kind treatment the pilgrims received from the unbelievers and the cruelty of their fellow-Christians, the Greeks, who imposed forced labour upon them, beat them and robbed them of what little they had left, that many of them voluntarily embraced the faith of their deliverers. As the old chronicler says: “Avoiding their co-religionists who had been so cruel to them, they went in safety among the infidels who had compassion upon them, and, as we heard, more than three thousand joined themselves to the Turks when they retired. Oh, kindness more cruel than all treachery! They gave them bread but robbed them of their faith, though it is certain that contented with the services they performed, they compelled no one among them to renounce his religion.”[181]
The increasing intercourse between Christians and Muslims, the growing appreciation on the part of the Crusaders of the virtues of their opponents, which so strikingly distinguishes [[90]]the later from the earlier chroniclers of the Crusades,[182] the numerous imitations of Oriental manners and ways of life by the Franks settled in the Holy Land, did not fail to exercise a corresponding influence on religious opinions. One of the most remarkable features of this influence is the tolerant attitude of many of the Christian Knights towards the faith of Islam—an attitude of mind that was most vehemently denounced by the Church. When Usāma b. Munqid͟h, a Syrian Amīr of the twelfth century, visited Jerusalem, during a period of truce, the Knights Templar, who had occupied the Masjid al-Aqṣā, assigned to him a small chapel adjoining it, for him to say his prayers in, and they strongly resented the interference with the devotions of their guest on the part of a newly-arrived Crusader, who took this new departure in the direction of religious freedom in very bad part.[183] It would indeed have been strange if religious questions had not formed a topic of discussion on the many occasions when the Crusaders and the Muslims met together on a friendly footing, during the frequent truces, especially when it was religion itself that had brought the Crusaders into the Holy Land and set them upon these constant wars. When even Christian theologians were led by their personal intercourse with the Muslims to form a juster estimate of their religion, and contact with new modes of thought was unsettling the minds of men and giving rise to a swarm of heresies, it is not surprising that many should have been drawn into the pale of Islam.[184] The renegades in the twelfth century were in sufficient numbers to be noticed in the statute books of the Crusaders, the so-called Assises of Jerusalem, according to which, in certain cases, their bail was not accepted.[185]