The Life of Mohammad Part 2

"The men obeyed, but all in vain: the sweet gra.s.s that seemed to spring up out of the earth offering its tender sprigs to our sheep, withered immediately they were gone on their way.

"Prosperity and blessings remained in our tent unceasingly. Mohammad attained his second year and it was then I weaned him. His disposition was truly uncommon. At the age of nine months, he talked in a charming way with accents that touched all hearts. He was never dirty; nor did he ever sob or scream, except peradventure when his nakedness chanced to be seen. If he was uneasy at nights and refused to close his eyes, I would bring him out of the tent, when he would fix his gaze immediately with admiration on the stars. He showed great joy, and when his glances were sated with the sight, he let his eyelids droop and allowed slumber to claim him."

[Ill.u.s.tration: _Watching over Camels grazing._]

But when he was weaned, Halimah was obliged to take Mohammad back to his mother who was eager to have him with her. What grief therefore for the poor wet-nurse! She could not resign herself to such cruel separation. As soon as she got to Makkah, she threw herself at Aminah's feet and burst out supplicating as she kissed them. 'See how the bracing air of the Badya hath profited thy child. Think that those breezes will do him still greater good now that he is beginning to walk. Fear the pestilential air of the city! Thou wouldst see him waste away before thine eyes and remember my words when it was too late.'

Moved by these touching prayers and thinking only of her son's health, Aminah stifled her motherly feelings and finished by consenting to let Halimah take Mohammad back to the Badya. His good-hearted nurse, buckling him securely to her loins, went off, overjoyed, on the road leading to her encampment.

Home again at the Badya of the Bani Sad, Mohammad's first footsteps were printed on the ripple-marked carpet of the immaculate sands, where he inhaled with welcome nostrils the sweet odours of the aromatic plants growing on the hillocks. And there it was he slept under the dark blue tent of the star-studded sky and his chest expanded, breathing the limpid air of desert nights. He grew strong, thanks to the healthy, wholesome food of the nomads: milk and cheese, with unleavened bread baked under hot ashes and, now and again, camel's flesh or mutton, devoid of the sickening smell of wool-grease that comes from animals bred in confined stabling.

Such moral and physical well-being, that he owed to the Badya, was of great help to him, during ordeals later in life. He was always pleased to recur to his childhood's days. 'Allah granted me two inestimable favours,' he would often say. 'First came the privilege of being born in the most n.o.ble of all the Arab tribes, the Quraish; secondly, that of being brought up in the Bani Sad region, the most salubrious of the entire Hijaz.'

Never were there effaced from his mind those pictures of the desert which were impressed on his earliest glances when, in company with other nomadic lads, he would climb to the top of a rock to watch over a grazing flock.

Notwithstanding, being inclined to dream and meditate, he did not agree very well with the turbulence and high spirits of the little Bedouins of his own age, and preferred to hide away from them, and ramble in solitude not too far from the tents.

[Sidenote: MOHAMMAD AND THE TWO ANGELS]

He went out, one morning, with his foster-brother leading the flocks of his foster-father to the pasturage.

All of a sudden, about the middle of the day, Mohammad's young companion went back alone. 'Come hither quickly!' he shouted to his father and mother, his voice hoa.r.s.e with affright. 'My brother, the Quraish, having slipped away from us, according to his wont, two men, clothed all in white, seized hold of him, threw him on the ground and split his chest open.'

In mad fear, poor Halimah, followed by her husband, ran as fast as her legs would carry her, following the road pointed out by the youthful shepherd. Mohammad was found seated on the top of a hill. He was perfectly calm, but his face had taken on the sinister tint of the dust and ashes to which we must all return. They fondled him gently and put question after question to him. 'What ails thee, O child of ours? What hath befell thee?'--'While I was intent upon looking after the grazing sheep,' he replied, 'I saw two white forms appear. At first, I took them to be two great birds, but as they drew nearer, I saw my mistake: they were two men clad in tunics of dazzling whiteness.'--'Is that the boy?' said one of them to his companion, pointing to me. 'Yea! 'Tis he!' As I stood stupefied with fear, they seized me; threw me down and cut my breast open. They drew out of my heart a black clot of blood which they cast far away; and then closing up my chest, they disappeared like phantoms.'

The words of Allah, in the Qur'an, seem to allude to this incident: "_Have we not opened thy breast for thee? * And taken off from thee thy burden. * Which galled thy back?_" (THE QUR'AN, XCIV. 1, 2, 3).

This story, together with many others to be met with in the pages of this work, must be taken to be a parable, which, in this case, signifies that Allah opened Mohammad's breast when quite young, so that the joy of monotheistic truth should penetrate therein and permeate his being, relieving him of the heavy burden of idol-wors.h.i.+p.

Mohammad's foster-parents continued to live in a state of bewilderment and Haris said to his wife: 'I fear the boy is a prey to falling sickness, evidently due to spells cast by neighbours, jealous of the prosperity and the Blessing that the child hath brought into our tent.

But whether possessed by the Evil One who conjured up this hallucination; or because, on the contrary, the boy's vision is a true one and pointeth to a glorious future, our responsibility is none the less heavy. Let us give him back to his family, before his disease becometh more violent.'

Halimah was regretfully obliged to agree with such wise arguments and, taking Mohammad with her, she turned in the direction of Makkah.

The boy, now four years of age, walked by her side, and, on the outskirts of the town, they found themselves in the midst of a great crowd wending their way to the market or the Temple pilgrimage. Night had come on. Hustled in the dense throng, Halimah was soon separated from her foster-son and was unable to find him in the dark, despite her active search and desperate shouts. Without losing time, she hurried to apprise Abdul Muttalib, whose high social position made it easy for him to send out clever men on the track of his grandson, while he rode on horseback to head the searchers.

In the Tihamah water-course, one of the trackers soon found a child seated among some shrubs. He was amusing himself by pulling the branches. 'Who art thou, child?' he was asked. 'I am Mohammad, son of Abdullah bin Abdul Muttalib.'

Well pleased at having found the boy he was looking for, the man lifted up the child and carried him to the arms of his grandfather following behind. Abdul Muttalib embraced Mohammad affectionately, sat him on the pommel of his saddle in front of him and brought him back to Makkah. To show his joy, the old man slaughtered some sheep and distributed their flesh to the poor of the city. Then, taking his grandson astride on his shoulder, he performed the ritual circuits round the Ka'bah in token of grat.i.tude.

Accompanied by poor Halimah, now recovered from her anguish, he led Mohammad into the presence of Aminah, his mother. After she had given way to the effusive joy of a loving mother, she turned to Halimah: 'What doth this signify? O nurse, thou wast so desirous of keeping my son by thy side, and now thou dost bring him back to me, all of a sudden?'--'I considered that he had reached an age when I could do no more for him than I have done; and fearing unlucky accidents, I bring him back to thee, knowing how thou wert longing to set eyes on him again.'

Nevertheless, perplexity and sadness were only too clearly to be read on the kind nurse's features. Not being deceived by her explanations, Aminah continued: 'Thou dost hide from me the true motive of thy return. I wait to hear thee tell the whole truth.'

Halimah then thought it best to repeat what her husband had said, and Aminah's maternal pride was sorely wounded. 'Can it be that thou art afraid lest my son should fall a victim to the devil?' she quickly retorted.--'I confess that such is my fear.'--'Know then that the demon's wiles are powerless to do him harm, for a glorious destiny is in store for him.' Aminah made the nurse acquainted with the marvellous events that had happened during her pregnancy and lying-in.

After having thanked and rewarded Halimah for her devotion, Aminah kept her child with her, and his health, fortified by life in the open air, had now nothing to fear from unhealthy conditions of town life.

[Sidenote: AMINAH'S DEATH (_A.D. 576_)]

Under the vigilant eyes of the most loving of mothers, Mohammad grew up handsome and intelligent; but he was not fated to long enjoy maternal affection which no other love can equal. On returning from a journey to Yasrib, whither she had taken him, Aminah died suddenly, halfway on the road, in the straggling village of Al-Abwa, where she was buried.

The sorrowing orphan boy, scarce seven years of age, was brought back to Makkah by a black slave-girl, Umm Aiman; entirely devoted to his young master and who, including five camels, const.i.tuted his sole inheritance.

He was taken in hand by his grandfather, Abdul Muttalib, who had always shown him great affection, and the old man's love increased daily, as he saw the lad growing up more and more like Abdullah, his father, so much regretted.

The following anecdote gives an idea of Abdul Muttalib's boundless affection for his grandson:

In Makkah, where the streets are narrow and crooked like those of all the towns of the desert, there is only one open s.p.a.ce of any size--the square in which stands the Ka'bah, and where, morning and evening, the citizens gathered together, resting and gossiping about their business as well as performing their devotions. Not a day pa.s.sed without the servants of Abdul Muttalib throwing down a carpet in the Temple's shade; and round the rug sat his sons, grandsons and the leading townsmen, awaiting his coming. The respect shown to the Superintendent of "The House of Allah" was so great, that never did anyone ever dare to put his foot even on the outer edge of his carpet.

It came to pa.s.s one day that young Mohammad took up a position right in the middle of the revered carpet, scandalising in the highest degree his uncles who drove him away immediately. But Abdul Muttalib was coming, and he had witnessed the conflict from afar. 'Let my grandson go back at once to where he was seated!' he called out. 'He is the delight of my old age and his great audacity ariseth from the presentiment he hath of his destiny, for he shall occupy higher rank than any Arab hath ever attained.'

So saying, he made Mohammad sit by his side and fondled his cheeks and his shoulders, while in ecstasies at the least thing the boy said or did.

Again the fates decreed, that Mohammad should be deprived of gentle love: Abdul Muttalib died at the age of ninety-five, unanimously regretted by his fellow-citizens.

The unlucky orphan boy was received into the house of his uncle Abu Talib, who had been chosen for this kind succour by his grandsire, for the reason that, alone among his uncles, he was the brother of both the mother and father of Abdullah, Mohammad's father.

[Sidenote: MOHAMMAD'S FIRST JOURNEY IN SYRIA (_A.D. 582_)]

Having a large family and not being very well off, although the management of the Ka'bah had been bequeathed to him, Abu Talib was obliged to do business with the lands of Yaman and Syria.

Shortly after sheltering his nephew under his roof, he undertook the task of organising a caravan of Quraish men, and he was to lead them back to their tents.

All was in readiness; the loads were shared and divided, corded and balanced on the pack-saddles of the kneeling camels, grunting according to their habit. Their drivers began, by dint of blows and shouts, to force them to rise to their feet and direct their swaying stride in a northerly direction. This sight caused Mohammad to remember his beloved Badya, where caravans resembling this one about to depart pa.s.sed to and fro continually. Fresh separation, this time from his beloved uncle, was about to plunge him into the sadness of solitude. He stood still, gloomy and silent. At last, heartbroken, he threw himself into Abu Talib's embrace, casting his young arms round him, and hiding his face in the folds of his uncle's mantle, to conceal his tears brought on by longing and despair.

Greatly moved by this spontaneous manifestation of affection, and guessing how ardent was his nephew's wish to accompany him, Abu Talib declared: 'By Allah! we'll take him with us; he'll not leave me and I'll not leave him.'

Mohammad dried his tears and, jumping for joy, he busied himself in hastening the final preparations for the journey. At a sign from his uncle, he perched himself on the female camel, getting up behind him.

When the caravan began to pa.s.s along the tracks made by the Bedouin tribes, Mohammad's lungs, contracted by breathing the vitiated air of houses and streets, were deliciously dilated, revelling in liberally gulping down the life-giving air of the Badya to which he was accustomed. Being used to a nomadic existence from childhood, the young traveller was able to support most valiantly the exhausting privations and terrible fatigue of such an interminable journey in the midst of the Hijaz deserts.

For more than a year, the countries he pa.s.sed through were so much alike in their sands and rocks, that the caravan seemed as if marking time. In the pitiless desert there was no other sign of life, except the presence of Him who is everywhere, eternally existant, but not to be seen by mortal eyes.

[Sidenote: HOW MOHAMMAD MET THE MONK BAHIRA]

On the terrace-roof of a convent perched, like a turban on a tall man's head, on the top of a steep hill, the lesser chain of the Jabal Hauran, the most learned monk, Bahira, looked out afar over the Syrian plains, stretching away in infinite s.p.a.ce in the direction of Arabia.

All of a sudden, his attention was drawn to the strange aspect of a solitary cloud, white and oblong, that stood out in bold relief on the immaculate blue background of the sky. Like some enormous bird, the cloud hovered above a small caravan winding its way northwards. The fleecy ma.s.s in the heavens covered the straggling procession with its azure shade and moved with the line of travellers.

At the foot of the hill on which the monastery was built, the caravan halted, close to a great tree that grew on the brink of a dried-up wady, and began to organise the encampment. At that moment, the cloud stopped still and vanished in the celestial canopy, while the branches of the tree were bent, as if beneath the gusts of a breeze acting on those twigs and leaves, at the same time throwing their shade over one of the caravaneers, as if to protect him from the blazing rays of the sun. Seeing these prodigies, Bahira guessed that among these wayfarers coming from the Hijaz, would be found the man he had been awaiting so long: the Prophet announced by the Sacred Books. So Bahira hurried down from the flat roof, gave orders to prepare a bountiful meal and sent a messenger to invite all the folks of the caravan without exception, young or old, n.o.bles or slaves.

The messenger returned, in company with the men of Makkah whose coming Bahira awaited on the threshold of his monastery. 'By Lat and Uzza!

thy conduct doth puzzle me, O Bahira!' exclaimed one of the guests.

'Many a time and oft have we pa.s.sed by the convent; yet, until now thou hast never heeded us; never didst thou dream of showing us the least sign of hospitality. What maggot biteth thee this day?'--'Thou dost not err,' replied Bahira. 'I have cogent reasons for behaving as I do. But ye are my guests at this hour and I pray that ye honour me by gathering together to partake of the repast that I have prepared for you all.'

While the people he had invited were enjoying the food with the appet.i.tes of men having recently been sorely deprived, Bahira scrutinised them all in turn, trying to find the one answering to the description given in his Books. Much to his disappointment, he did not succeed. There was no one to be seen whose appearance agreed with the description. But as he had just witnessed marvels that could not be explained, otherwise than by the reason that one of Allah's elect was surely present, he refused to be discouraged. 'O men of the Quraish tribe!' he asked; 'is there not one of you remaining in your tents?'--'Aye, one only,' was the reply. 'We left him alone at rest on account of his extreme youth.'--'Why did ye not bring him hither? Go, call him at once, so that he shareth the meal in your company.'--'By Lat and Uzza!' swore one of the guests; 'we give you right. Of a surety we are to blame for having left one of us behind, while we profit by thine invitation, especially as he is a son of Abdullah bin Abdul Muttalib.'

Rising, he went and fetched Mohammad and brought him into the midst of the group of guests. Bahira eyed the newcomer with great attention and when the men had done eating and drinking, the monk went to him, taking him on one side. 'O young man!' said the monk, 'I have a question to ask. By Lat and Uzza, wilt thou consent to answer?'

Bahira desired to put him to the test by invoking the idols Lat and Uzza, exactly as he had just heard his guests swearing, but Mohammad replied thus: 'Put no question to me in the name of Lat and Uzza, for there is nothing on this earth that I hate more than them.'--'Well then, by Allah! wilt thou answer me?'--' Question me and, by Allah!