Mohammedanism

MOHAMMEDANISMUnder this head is given the history of Mohammed and his successors to the fall of the Eastern Caliphate, with a sketch of the institutions and civilization of the Moslem empire and an account of the Koran. The later history must be sought under the names of individual countries and dynasties. W hat falls to be said of the social and religious aspects of Islam in modern times will be given under the two great divisions of Sunnites and Shi'ites.

PART I.—MOHAMMED AND THE FIRST FOUR CALIPHS.

MOHAMMED, p. 6, note 2; Sprenger, Leben und Lehre des Μ., i. 155 sq. ) The name is found, although it was not common, among the heathen Arabs. Renan has shown it to occur on a Greek inscription of the early part of the 2d century of the Christian era (Boeckh, C. I. G., 4500), and Mohammed ibn Maslama of Medina, a contemporary of the Prophet, bore it as his original name, as appears from the fact that his brother was called Mahmud, it being a favourite practice to give to brothers variations of the same name, as Anas and Mιinis, Sahl and Sohail, Monabbih and Nobaih (Sprenger, i. 158, note 2). That Mohammed calls himself Ahmad, in sur. Ixi. 6, in order to adapt his name to a supposed prophecy, proves nothing; on the other hand, the men of Mecca, on occasion of a treaty with the Moslems, demanded that the Prophet should not call himself messenger of God, but Mohammed ibn 'Abdallah, using his old familiar name; see J. Wellhausen, VaJndi ’ s Kit&b al-Maghazi in verkürzter deutscher Wiedergabe (Berl. 1882), p. 257. ] or MAHOMET, the founder of Islam, first appears in the full light of history with his Flight to Medina (The Hijra), a.d. 622; and this date, not that of his birth, has been fittingly chosen as the epoch of the Moslem Era. The best-attested tradition places his first appearance as a prophet in Mecca some twelve years earlier (circa 610). He was then forty years old: the forty must be taken as a round number, but as such is doubtless trustworthy. Thus the birth of Mohammed falls about 570 a.d. : it is said to have fallen in the year when Abrahâ, the Abyssinian viceroy of Yemen, made the expedition against Mecca, mentioned in the Koran, when the Arabs first saw the elephant and first suffered from smallpox.

At the time of Mohammed’s birth and youth nothing seemed less likely than that the Arabs should presently make their triumphal entrance into the history of the world as victors over the Greeks and Persians. Nowhere in the Peninsula was there an independent state of any considerable power and importance. At the beginning of the 6th century indeed the princes of Kinda had attempted to form a national kingdom, uniting in particular the tribes of central Arabia; but this kingdom was nothing more than an epic prelude to the true history of the Arabs, which begins with Islam. After the fall of the Kindite dynasty, the old anarchy reigned again among the nomads of the Nejd and the Hijâz; in all other quarters Greek or Persian influence predominated, extending from the frontier deep into the interior by the aid of two vassal states—the kingdom of the Ghassanids in the Haurân under Greek suzerainty, and that of the Lakhmids in Hira and Anbâr under the Persian empire. The antagonism between Byzantium and Ctesiphon was reflected in the feuds of these Arab lordships; but indeed the rivalry of Greek and Persian exercised its influence even on the distant South of the Peninsula. Urged on by the Greeks, the Abyssinians had overthrown the Christian-hating realm of the Himyarites, the sunken remnant of the ancient might of the Sabaeans (a.d. 526), the Persians had helped a native prince again to expel the Christians (circa 570), and since then the Persians had retained a footing in the land. Toward the close of the 6th century, their direct and indirect influence in Arabia greatly surpassed that of the Greeks; and since the Kindites had fallen before the kings of Hira, it extended right through the Nejd into Yemen.

In the Hijâz and western Nejd, the district from which Islam and the Arab empire took their beginning, Greeks and Persians, Ghassanids and Lakhmids, had not much influence; the nomad tribes, and the few urban commonwealths that existed there, lived free from foreign interference, after the manner of their fathers. Mohammed’s city was Mecca, where the Banù Kinâna had formed a settlement round the Ka'ba, the sanctuary of a number of confederate tribes (Aliâbish) belonging to that district. The feast annually observed in the days before the full moon of the month Dhff Ί-Hijja at Mecca and at 'Arafa and Kozah in the vicinity, presented strong attractions for all inhabitants of the Hijâz, and grew into a great fair, at which the Meccans sold to the Bedouins the goods they imported from Syria. Feast and fair gave the city the prosperity which it shared with other cities which, like Mecca, had the advantage of lying near the meeting-place of the two great natural roads to Yemen—that from the north-west along the Red Sea coast, and that from the north-east fol lowing the line of the mountains that traverse the Nejd.

By their trading journeys the Koraish had acquired a knowledge of the world, especially of the Graeco-Syrian world: the relative superiority of their culture raised them not only above the Bedouins, but above the agricultural population of such a city as Medina; the art of reading and writing was pretty widely diffused among them. The Koraish within the city were the Banff Ka'b ibn Loay, those in the surrounding country Banff 'Amir ibn Loay; the townsmen proper were again subdivided into Motayya-bffn and Ahlâf—the latter were the new citizens, who wero distinguished from the old settlers by the same name in other Arabian towns, as in Tâif and Hira. The community was a mere confederation of neighbouring septs, each occupying its own quarter; there was no magistracy, the town as such had no authority. All political action centred in the several septs and their heads; if they held together against outsiders, this was due to interest and a sense of honour, a voluntary union strengthened by the presence of public opinion. In the time of Mohammed, the most numerous and wealthy sept was that of the Banff Makhzffm; but that of the Banff 'Abdshams was the most distinguished. The Banff Omayya were the most powerful house of 'Abdshams; their head, Abff Sofyân ibn Harb, exercised a decisive influence in the concerns of the whole community. Mohammed himself was of the Banff Hâshim; it is affirmed that these had formerly enjoyed and claimed of right th 3 position actually enjoyed by the Banff Omayya, but th: ’ > assertion seems to have had its origin in the claims to the Caliphate which the Hashimites (the house of 'AH and the 'Abbâsids) subsequently set up against the Omayyads.

Mohammed’s father, 'Abdallâh b. 'Abdalmottalib, did not live to see the son’s birth, and his mother Àmina died while he was still a child. Mohammed was then cared for first by his grandfather, 'Abdalmottalib, and after his death by his oldest paternal uncle, Abù Tâlib b. 'Abdalmottalib. He was kindly treated, but shared the hardships of a numerous and very poor family; he herded sheep and gathered wild berries in the desert. This is all that we know of his youth (sur. xciii. 6), all else is legend, containing at most an occasional fragment of truth.

It was, we are told, in his twenty-fifth year that Mohammed, on the recommendation of his uncle, entered the house and business of a wealthy widow named Khadija. For her he made commercial journeys, thus learning to know part of Palestine and Syria, and perhaps receiving impressions which fructified in his soul. By and by he married the -widow, who was much his senior; he was a shrewd man, with prepossessing countenance, fair of skin, and black-haired. The marriage was happy, and blessed with several children. The two sons, however, died young; from the elder the father received the surname Abfi Ί-Kâsim. The most famous of the daughters was Fâtima, who married her father’s cousin, 'All b. Abi Tâlib.

During his married life with Khadija, Mohammed came in contact with a religious movement which had laid hold on some thoughtful minds in Medina, Mecca, and Tâif. In Mecca, as elsewhere, Arabian heathenism was a traditional form of worship, chiefly concentrated in great feasts at the holy places; it was clung to because it had come down from the fathers. The gods were many; their importance was not due to the attributes ascribed to them, but to their connection with special circles in which they were worshipped. They were the patrons of septs and tribes, and symbolized, so to speak, the holy unity which united the present and past members of these. Above them all stood Allâh, the highest and universal God. By him the holiest oaths were sworn; in his name (Bismika Λllahummd') treaties and covenants were sealed; the lower gods were not fit to be invoked in such cases, as they belonged to one party instead of standing over both. The enemy was reminded of Allâh to deter him from inhuman outrage; enemy of Allâh ('aduw Allah, 0eoστυγ^s) was the name of opprobrium for a villain. But, since Allâh ruled over all and imposed duties on all, it was not thought that one could enter into special relations with him. In worship he had the last place, those gods being preferred who represented the interests of a specific circle, and fulfilled the private desires of their worshippers. Neither the fear of Allâh, however, nor reverence for the gods had much influence. The chief practical consequence of the great feasts was the observance of a truce in the holy months, and this in course of time had become mainly an affair of pure practical convenience. In general, the disposition of the heathen Arabs, if it is at all truly reflected in their poetry, was profane in an unusual degree. Wine, the chase, gaming, and love on the one side; vengeance, feuds, robbery, and glory on the other, occupy all the thoughts of the old poets. Their motives to noble deeds are honour and family feeling; they hardly name the gods, much less feel any need of them. The man sets all his trust on himself: he rides alone through the desert, his sword helps him in danger, no God stands by him, he commends his soul to no saint. His reckless egoism may expand to noble self-sacrifice for the family and the tribe; but in this heroism religious impulses have no part, there is nothing mystical in these hard, clear, and yet so passionate natures. The only vein of what can in any sense be called religious feeling appears when the volcano has burned itself out and the storm of life is over; then, it may be, a wail is heard over the vanity of all the restless activity that is now spent. It is very possible that religion meant more to the sedentary Arabs than to the nomads, to whom almost all the ancient poetry belongs; but the difference cannot have been great. The ancient inhabitants of Mecca practised piety essentially as a trade, just as they do now; their trade depended on the feast, and its fair on the inviolability of the Haram and on the truce of the holy months. τ

The religion of the Arabs before Mohammed was decrepit and effete. Many anecdotes and verses prove that indifference and scoffing neglect of the gods was nothing uncommon. The need for a substitute for the lost religion was not very -widely felt. But there were individuals who were not oontent with a negation, and sought a better religion. Such were Omayya b. Abi ’ l-⅛alt in Tâif, Zaid b. 'Amr in Mecca, Abü Kais b. Abi Anas, and Abù 'Amir in Medina. They were called Hanifs, probably meaning “penitents ”, men who strive to free themselves from sin. They did not constitute a regular sect, and had in fact no fixed and organized views. They had, no doubt, intercourse with one another, but were not a close society; they thought more of their own souls than of propaganda; only in Medina they seem to have been more numerous. They rejected polytheism and acknowledged AllAh, but not so much on intellectual grounds as on grounds of conscience. Faith in the one God was with them identical with pious resignation (Islàm) to his will; their monotheism was most closely allied to the sense of responsibility and of a coming judgment; it stood opposed to the worldly ideas of the idolaters, and was an impulse to upright and sin-avoiding walk. They were not theorists, but ascetics. It was the primitive ideas of Law and Gospel (“the religion of Abraham”) that lived again in them. They felt on the whole less attracted towards the developed forms of the religion of revelation; they rather sought after some new form; few of them attached themselves to existing religious communities.

Mohammed, it would appear, came into connexion with these Hanifs through a cousiμ of his wife, Wara⅛a b. Naufal, who was one of them. Their doctrines found a fruitful soil in his heart; he was seized with a profound sense of dependence on the omnipresent and omnipotent Lord, and of responsibility towards him.' Following the example of old Zaid b. ‘Amr, he now frequently withdrew for considerable periods to the solitude of the bare and desolate Mount HirA, and meditated there with prayer and ascetic exercises. For years, perhaps, he went on in these purely individual exercises, without anything to distinguish him essentially from the others who held similar views. But in him the Hanifite ideas lodged themselves in a natural temperament which had a sickly tendency to excitement and vision, and so produced a fermentation that ended in an explosion. Thus he became a prophet; he felt himself constrained to leave the silent circle of ascetics and make a propaganda for the truth. In t⅛is resolve he was unquestionably influenced by what he knew of the example of the Biblical prophets, perhaps also by the circumstance that a longing after a new founder of religion was diffused among the Hanifs, and found support in some dim acquaintance with the Messianic hopes of the Jews.

That Mohammed did not independently produce his own ideas is indisputable; nor is it to be doubted that he derived them from the Hanifs. But what was the ultimate source of these first motions towards Islam Ί In general they are ascribed to a Jewish source. Jews were very numerous in HijAz and Yemen, and had perfectly free intercourse with the Arabs, to whom they undoubtedly imparted a quantity of Biblical and religious material. Mohammed in particular was indebted to the Jews for almost all the stories and a great part of the laws of the Koran (laws of marriage, purity, etc.), and the theological language of Islam is full of Jewish words. But the original and productive forces of Islam did not spring from Judaism, least of all the ideas of the Judgment and of the inexorable demands set before the creature by his Creator, which are so dominant in the older sûras. A distinction must be drawn between the primitive impulses and the material added later; Mohammed did not get his leaven from the Jews, they only supplied him afterwards with meal. Neither in truth can Christianity be viewed as the proper source of Islam—Christianity, that is, in any of its great historical developments. The Arabs knew Greek, Syrian, and Abyssinian-Himyaritic churches; manifold influences from these doubtless reached Islam, but in none of them did the idea of Judgment still stand as the central point of religion; the living sense of divine reality ruling over the life was half extinguished by the developments of theology. But in the Syro-Babylonian desert, off the line of the church’s main advance, primitive forms of Christianity, perhaps also of Essenism, still survived, which the course of church history had left untouched. To these belong on the one hand the Sabians (“Baptists,” from p□χ), on the other the numerous anchorets of these regions. The connection of Islam with the Sabians appears from the fact that in Mecca and TAif its adherents were simply known as Sabians. From them, however, were derived, it would seem, for the most part only externals, though the importance of these must on no account be undervalued. The deepest influence exercised on the Hanifs, and through them on the Prophet, appears to have come from the anchorite ascetics. How popular they were with the Arabs, appears from the Bedouin poetry; what power they exercised over the minds even of the heathen, is proved by various episodes in the history of GL·assAn and Hira; how well the Arabs knew the difference between them and the shaven clergy, is seen in the instructions of Abùbekr to the commanders in the Syrian campaigns. It was not their doctrine that proved impressive, but the genuine earnestness of their consecrated life, spent in preparation for the life to come, for the day of judgment, and forming the sharpest contrast to the profanity of heathenism. Ascesis and meditation were the chief points with the Hanifs also, and they are sometimes called by the same name with the Christian monks. It can hardly be wrong to conclude that these nameless witnesses of the Gospel, unmentioned in church history, scattered the seed from which sprang the germ of Islam.

The tradition gives a telling story of the way in which Mohammed at length came to proclaim openly what had long been living and working within him; in other words, how he became a prophet. Once, in the month of Ramadan, while he repeated his pious exercises and meditations on Mount HirA, the angel Gabriel came to him by night as he slept, held a silken scroll before him and compelled him, though he could not read, to recite what stood written on it. This was the first descent of a passage of the heavenly book, the source of revelation from which Moses and Jesus and all prophets had drawn; and so Mohammed was called to be a prophet The words with which Gabriel had summoned him to read, remained graven on his heart. They were the beginning of sur. xcvi.—

“Read! in the name of thy Lord, who created, created man from a drop. Read! for thy Lord is the Most High who hath taught by the pen, hath taught to man what he knew not. Nay truly man walketh in delusion, when he deems that he suffices for himself; to thy Lord they must all return.”

What is here recorded is the commencement, not of Mohammed’s knowledge, but of his prophesying. That the latter was due to a vision experienced by him on a night of the month Ramadan (sur. xcvii. 1, ii. 181) is certain, and it is at least very possible that the form of the vision was governed by the traditional conception of revelation and prophecy which Mohammed had learned to accept. It is, of course, uncertain whether the words in which the angel called the Prophet are really contained in sur. xcvi. Certainly this sûra is very early, and its contents are, indeed, the best expression of the original ideas of Islam. Man lives on content with himself, but he must one day return to his Creator and Lord, and give account to him. This is in a sense the material principle of the oldest faith of Islam; the formal principle is the very prominent doctrine of revelation in writing copied from the heavenly book.

When the angel left him—so the tradition runs on— Mohammed came to Khadija and recounted the occurrence to her in much distress; he thought that he was possessed. She however comforted him, and confirmed him in the belief that he had received a revelation and was called as a messenger of God. Yet his doubts returned, when there ensued a break in the revelation, and they reached a distressing height. He was often on the point of seeking death by casting himself down from Mount Hirâ. It is usually assumed that this state of anguish lasted from two to three years. Then the angel is said to have suddenly appeared a second time; he came to Khadija in great excitement and said: “Wrap me up! wrap me up !” This, it must be explained, was done when he fell into one of his swoons; and on this occasion, as often thereafter, the revelation came during an attack. Then was sent down sûra lxxiv. beginning with the address—“O thou enveloped one!” Henceforth there was no interruption and no doubt; the revelations followed without break, and the Prophet was assured of his vocation.

That Mohammed did pass through many doubts and much distress before he reached this assurance, may well be believed (sur. xciii. 3); but the systematic development of the doctrine of the fatra, or interval of from two to three years between the first and second revelation, belongs to a later stage of tradition. It appears that it was devised to dispose of the controversy whether Mohammed lived as a prophet in Mecca for ten or for twelve years; perhaps, too, it was desired to solve another difficulty— viz., whether sur. xcvi. or sur. lxxiv. was the beginning of the revelation—in a sense that should do some justice to the rival claims of each. The tradition may also have been influenced by the circumstance that Mohammed, in the first three years of his mission, did not appear as a public preacher, but only sought recruits for his own cause and the cause of Allâh in private circles. First, he gained the inmates of his own house,—his wife Khadija, his freed man Zaid b. Haritha, his cousin 'Alf (of whose nurture he had relieved Abù Tâlib, a poor man with many children), and finally his dearest friend Abùbekr b. Abi Kohâfa. The last named won for him several other adherents: Othmân b. 'Affân, Zobair b. al-'Awwâm, 'Abd al-Rahmân b. 'Auf, Sa'd b. Abi Wakkäs, Talha b. 'Obaid Allâh, all names of note in the subsequent history of Islam. Soon there was a little community formed, whose members united in common exercises of prayer.

To the Hanffs, especially to the family of Zaid b. 'Amr, their relation was friendly; they had the name of Moslem in common, and there was hardly any difference of principle to separate them. The personality of the prophet had given an altogether new impulse to a movement already in existence; that was all. To found a new religion was in no sense Mohammed’s intention; what he sought was to secure among his people the recognition of the old and the true. He preached it to the Arabs as Moses had before him preached to the Jews, and Jesus to Christians; it was all one and the same religion as written in the heavenly book. The differences between the several religions of the book were not perceived by him till a much later period.

It is not difficult to understand why Mohammed should in the first instance have turned to those who were most readily accessible to him; but the nature of his mission did not suffer him to rest content with this; it compelled him to make public proclamation of the truth. One of his dependents, Arkam b. Abi Arkam, offered for this purpose his house, which stood close by the sanctuary, and thus the Moslems obtained a convenient meeting-place within the town, instead of, as hitherto, being compelled to resort to ravines and solitary places. Here Mohammed preached, and here too it was that he received some converts to Islam. But he did not obtain any great results among the Meccans. What he had to say was already in substance familiar to them; all that was new was the enthusiasm with which he proclaimed old truth. But this enthusiasm failed to make any impression on them; they set him aside as a visionary, or as a poet, or simply as one possessed. In their eyes it was a fatal flaw that his supporters were drawn from the slave-class and the lower orders, and the ranks of the young; it -would have been quite another matter if one of the rulers or elders had believed in him. This circumstance was a source of annoyance to the prophet himself; in sur. lxxx. we find him rebuked by God for having repulsed in an unkind way a blind beggar who had interrupted him as he was endeavouring to win over a man of influence—an endeavour which proved of no avail.

This indifference of the Meccans embittered the messenger of God, and led him to give to his preaching a polemical character which it had not hitherto possessed. In the oldest sûras we have monotheism in its positive and practical form. God is the all-powerful Lord and all-knowing Judge of man; he demands loyal self-surrender and unconditional obedience; the service he requires is a serious life, characterized in particular by prayer, almsgiving, and temperance. That the worship of other gods beside Allâh is excluded by these views, goes without saying; still it is noteworthy that the sharp negations of monotheism acquired prominence only by degrees. It was in his indignation against the cold mockery with which he was met that Mohammed first assumed an attitude of hostility towards the worship of polytheism, while at the same time he gave much greater prominence to his own mission, just because it was not acknowledged. He now began to threaten the infidels with the judgment of God for their contempt of His message and His messenger; he related to them the terrible punishments that in other cases had fallen on those who refused to hear the voice of their prophet, applying the old legends to the circumstances of the present with such directness that it was superfluous expressly to add the morals. This could not fail to irritate the Meccans, especially as after all the new religion gained ground. What Mohammed attacked as ungodly and abominable were their holy things; they were jealous for their gods and their fathers. Their attachment to the traditional worship was the greater that the prosperity of their town rested upon it ; for they had not yet learned that the Ka'ba was no institution of heathenism. They found, however, no other way to remove the public scandal than to approach Abù Tâlib, the Prophet’s uncle and the head of his family, asking him to impose silence on the offender, or else to withdraw from him his protection. Abù Tâlib was not personally convinced of Mohammed’s mission, but he did not choose to impose conditions on the enjoyment of his protection. At length, however, when the Meccans adopted a threatening tone and said that he must either restrain his nephew from his injurious attacks, or openly take side for Mohammed and against them, he sent for his nephew, told him how things stood, and urged him not to involve them both in ruin. Mohammed was deeply moved; he thought his uncle wished to get rid of him; yet he could not and would not withdraw from the divinely-imposed necessity which impelled him to preach his convictions. “Though they gave me the sun in my right hand,” he said, “and the moon in my left, to bring me back from my undertaking, yet will I not pause till the Lord carry my cause to victory, or till I die for it.” With this he burst into tears, and turned to go away. But Abû Tâlib called him back and said: “Go in peace, son of my brother, and say what thou wilt, for, by God, I will on no condition abandon thee.”

The protection of his uncle did not relieve Mohammed from all manner of petty insults which he had to endure from his enemies from day to day; but no one ventured to do him serious harm, for the family feud which this would necessarily have produced was not to be lightly incurred. Less fortunate than the Prophet, however, were such of his followers as occupied dependent positions, and had no family support; especially the converted bondmen and bondwomen, who found no consideration, and were often treated with actual cruelty. For some of these Abιibekr purchased freedom. There seem to have been no martyrs, but the situation of many Moslems became so intolerable that they fled to Abyssinia. The Abyssinian Christians were quite looked upon as their religious kinsmen.

A breach with one’s people is for the Arab a breach with God and the world; he feels it like a living death. Mohammed, who remained in Mecca, naturally made every effort to heal the breach with his townsmen, and, as naturally, the latter met him half-way. He even went so far as to take the edge from his monotheism. Once, when the heads of the Koraish were assembled at the Ka'ba, Mohammed, we are told, came to them and began to recite before them sur. liii. When he came to the passage,

“What think ye of al-Lât and al-Ozzâ, and of Manât the third with them?” the devil put words in his mouth which he had long wished to have by revelation from God—viz. “These are the sublime Cranes,∣ c ] 11 e t was dunkel zwar, Doch es klingt recht wunderbar." Comp. Nöldeke, op. eil., p. 80. Hobal, though the chief god of the Meccans, is not mentioned in the Koran either here or elsewhere. Perhaps as God of the Ka'ba he was already identified with Allah by the Meccans, or was so identified by Mohammed. ] whose intercession may be hoped for.” The auditors were surprised and delighted by this recognition of their goddesses, and when Mohammed closed the sûra with the words, “So prostrate yourselves before Allâh and do service to him,” they all with one accord complied. They then professed their satisfaction with his admissions, and declared themselves ready to recognize him. But the messenger of God went home disquieted. In the evening Gabriel came to him, and Mohammed repeated to him the sûra; whereupon the angel said: “What hast thou done? thou hast spoken in the ears of the people words that I never gave to thee.” Mohammed now fell into deep distress, fearing to be cast out from the sight of God. But the Lord took him back to His grace and raised him up again. He erased the diabolical verse and revealed the true reading, so that the words now ran— “What think ye of al-Lât and al-Ozzâ, and of Manât the third with them? The male [offspring] for you and the female for God? That were an unjust division !” When the new version reached the ears of the Meccans they compared it with the old, and saw that the Prophet had broken the peace again. So their enmity broke out again with fresh violence.

It is generally and justly suspected that this compromise did not rest on a momentary inspiration of Satan, but was the result of negotiations and protracted consideration. Nor was the breach so instantaneous as is represented; the peace lasted more than one day. There is no doubt as to the fact itself. Every religion must make compromises to gain the masses. But for Mohammed the moment for this had not yet arrived; later on he used the method of compromise with great effect.

The news of the peace between Mohammed and the Meccans had recalled the fugitive Moslems from Abyssinia; on their return the actual state of affairs proved very different indeed from what they had been led to expect, and it was not long before a second emigration took place. By degrees as many as a hundred and one Moslems, mostly of the younger men, in little groups, had again migrated to Abyssinia, where they once more met with a friendly reception. Among them were Ja'far, the brother of 'AH, and the Prophet’s daughter Rokayya, along with her husband Othmân b. 'Affân.

Mohammed’s position was very considerably altered for the worse, both subjectively and in other respects, by his precipitate withdrawal from the compromise almost as soon as it had been made. He himself indeed, although long and salutarily humbled by the remembrance of his fall (sur. xvii. 75 sqq.), never abandoned faith in his vocation; his followers also did not permit themselves to be led away. But the Meccans, from the way in which he had at first given out a verse as God’s word and afterwards withdrawn it as a suggestion of Satan, did not hesitate to draw the inference that the whole of his boasted revelation was nothing but a manifest imposture. To their cold and unfeeling logic the Prophet had nothing to oppose save passionate assurances.

Fortunately for the Moslems, precisely at this juncture, when matters were assuming so gloomy an aspect for their little company, two conversions took place, which were well fitted to revive their courage. Mohammed’s uncle, Hamza b. c Abdalmottalib, felt his family pride wounded by the injurious treatment which the former had received from Abff Jahl, head of the great and wealthy family of the Banù Makhzùm, and in order to become publicly his champion, he adopted Islam. Of much more importance still was the conversion in the same year (the sixth of the Call) of Omar b. al-Khattâb. Omar was then only twenty-six years of age, and neither rich nor noble; but his imposing figure and his unbending strength of will gave him a personal influence, which immediately made itself felt in a very marked manner in favour of Islam. Until now its religious gatherings had taken place privately, especially in the house of Arkam; but Omar offered his prayers at the Ka'ba as publicly as possible, and his example was followed by the other Moslems. Their religious exercises were no longer gone about in secret, but ostentatiously and before the eyes of all.

So far as can be gathered, it was at this time that the opposition between Mohammed and his townsmen reached its highest pitch. The feeling that he had somewhat committed himself embittered him; he was determined to atone for his previous concessions to polytheism by uncompromising polemic against it. A personal element, which had lurked from the first in the war of principles, became by degrees increasingly dominant. The idols were less displeasing to Allâh than the idolaters; his own worship was a matter of less concern to him than the recognition of his messenger. With ever-increasing distinctness the prophetic utterances came to be mere words of threatening and rebuke against the Meccans; it was impossible not to recognize in Noah and Moses or Abraham the prophet himself. The coming judgment upon Mecca, and the hour of it, were either in plain words or veiled allusion the continual theme of the “admonisher;” but the often er and the more urgently it was repeated, the less was the impression it produced. The Meccans did not, on the whole, suffer themselves to be much disturbed by the prospect of the terrible overthrow which was portrayed before them in vivid colours. They were even profane enough to express a desire to see the long-threatened catastrophe arrive at last, and their audacity went so far as to complain of the revelations with which Mohammed sought to stir their feelings as being tedious. They did not in the least believe that the Biblical narratives, which he related with special pride, were known to him by revelation; on the contrary, they pretended to know perfectly well the human source from which he had derived them (sur. xvi. 105; XXV. 5 j xliv. 13). It is very interesting to find Mohammed in presence of their unbelief referring to the recognition and approval with which he met among the children of Israel (sur. vi. 114; x. 94; xiii. 36 sqq.; xvii. 108; xxviii. 52 sq.; xxxiv. 6), and particularly to find him appealing to the testimony of a certain Jew, whom he does not name (sur. xlvi. 9 sqq.) Manifestly he had relations with Jews at this period, and was under their influence; and from them, of course, it was that the material of his Old Testament and Haggadistic narratives was derived. At the same time it is clear that he himself must have believed these to have come directly to him in a second revelation from above, otherwise he would hardly have taken his stand in the presence of his opponents upon the testimony of the Jews. Such a self-deception seems indeed hardly credible to us, but it is impossible to impute to the Arab prophet too complete an absence of the critical faculty.

The Koraish at last lost all patience. Their heads entered into a solemn compact to break off all intercourse with the Hashimids, as they declined to separate themselves from Mohammed. The Hashimids submitted to the interdict for the sake of their relative, although for the most part they were not believers on him. Along with the Banff Ι-Mottalib they withdrew into the separate quarter of their chief, into the so-called Shi'b Abi Tâlib; one only of their number, Abû Lahab, separated himself from them, and made common cause with the Meccans. All buying and selling with the excommunicated persons being forbidden, these found themselves reduced occasionally to outward distress, as well as excluded from all fellowship. This treatment, although apparently never carried out with absolute strictness, did not fail of its effect. The Prophet’s more remotely attached adherents fell away from him, and his efforts for the spread of Islam were crippled. All he could do was to encourage those who remained faithful, and to set himself to seek the conversion of his relations.

This state of matters, after continuing for from two to three years, at last became intolerable to the Meccans themselves, who had a variety of relations with the excommunicated family. In the tenth year of the Call (a.d. 619-620) five of the leading citizens paid a visit to the Shi'b Abi Tâlib and induced the Banû Hâshim and al-Mottalib to come out of their retirement and again appear among their fellow-citizens. The rest of the Koraish were taken by surprise, and did not venture, by setting themselves against the fait accompli, to run the risk of what might have become a dangerous breach. The story goes that a lucky accident released them from the solemn oath under which they had laid themselves with reference to the Banff Hâshim—the mice had destroyed the document, hung up in the Ka'ba, on which it was recorded.

Mohammed was now free once more; but he no longer thought of carrying on his polemic against the Meccans or of seeking to influence them at all. In his relations to them three stadia can be distinguished, although it is easier to determine their character than their chronology. In the first instance, his endeavour was to propitiate them and win them over to his side; when other methods failed, he even went so far as to make complimentary mention of their goddesses in one of his revelations, and thus to set up a compromise with heathenism. When this compromise failed, he forthwith commenced an embittered assault upon the idolaters, which ended in the outlawry of himself and of his family. And now, the ban having been removed, he gave the Meccans up, abandoning them to their hardness of heart. It had become clear to him that in his native town Islam was to make no progress, and that his position was untenable. His feeling of separation was increased all the more with the death of his faithful Khadija about this time, followed soon afterwards by that of Abff Tâlib, his noble protector. He accordingly came to the determination to take his chance in the neighbouring Tâif, and set out thither alone. On his arrival he asked the heads of the town whether they would be willing to receive him and protect the free proclamation of his doctrines. He was answered in the negative; the mob drove him out of the town, and pursued him until he found refuge in a vineyard, the property of two noble Meccans. In the deepest despondency he again took the homeward road.

Tradition has it that he found comfort in the fact that at least the Jinns listened to him as by the way he chanted the Koran in the sacred grove of Nakhla. In the present circumstances it was now impossible for him to return into the town, after having openly announced his intention of breaking with it and joining another community. He did not venture to do so until, after lengthened negotiations, he had assured himself of the protection of a leading citizen, Mot'im b. 'Adi. Notwithstanding all that had happened, he resolved, two months after the death of Khadija, to enter upon a second marriage with Sauda bint Zam'a, the widow of an Abyssinian emigrant.

Chance soon afterwards brought to pass what forethought (on his journey to Tâif) had failed to accomplish. After having given up the Meccans, Mohammed was wont to seek interviews with the Arabs who came to Mecca, Majanna, Dhù Ί-Majâz, and Okâz, for the purpose of taking part in the feasts and fairs, and to preach to them. On one such occasion, in the third year before the Flight (a.d. 619-620), he fell in with a small company of citizens of Medina, who to his delight did not ridicule him, as was usually the case, but showed both aptness to understand and willingness to receive his doctrines. For this they had been previously prepared, alike by their daily intercourse with the numerous Jews who lived in confederation with them in their town and neighbourhood, and by the connections which they had with the Nabataeans and Christian Arabs of the north. Hanifitism was remarkably widely diffused among them, and at the same time there were movements of expectation of a new religion, perhaps even of an Arabian Messiah, who should found it. Medina was the proper soil for Mohammed’s activity. It is singular that he owed such a discovery to accident. He entered into closer relations with the pilgrims who had come from thence, and asked them to try to find out whether there was any likelihood of his being received in their town. They promised to do so, and to let him hear from them in the following year.

At the pilgrim feast of next year, accordingly, twelve citizens of Medina had a meeting with Mohammed, and gave him their pledge to have no god but Allâh, to withhold their hands from what was not their own, to flee fornication, not to kill new-born infants, to shun slander, and to obey God’s messenger as far as was fairly to be asked. This is the so-called First Homage on the 'A⅛aba. The twelve men now returned, as propagandists of Islam, to their homes with the injunction to let their master hear of the success of their efforts at the same place on the following year. One of the Meccan Moslems, Mos'ab b. Omair, was sent along with or after them, in order to teach the people of Medina to read the Koran, and instruct them in the doctrines and practices of Islam.

Islam spread very quickly on the new soil. It is easy to understand how his joy strengthened the Prophet’s spirit to try a higher flight. As a symptom of his exalted frame we might well regard his famous night-journey to Jerusalem (sur. xvii. 1; vi. 2), if we could be sure that it belonged to this period. The prophecy also of the final triumph of the Romans over the Persians (contained in sur. XXX. 1 sqq.) might very well pass for an expression of his own assurance of victory, as at that time he still had a feeling of solidarity with the Christians. But the prophecy (the only one contained in the Koran) belongs, it would appear, to a much earlier date.

At the Meccan festival of the last year before the Flight (in March 622) there presented themselves among the pilgrims from Medina seventy-three men and two women who had been converted to Islam. In the night after the day of the sacrifice they again had an interview with the Prophet on the 'A⅛aba; Al-'Abbâs, his uncle, who after Abιi Tâlib’s death had become head of the Banù Hâsbim, was also present. This is the so-called Second Homage on the 'Akaba, at which Mohammed’s emigration to Medina was definitely settled. Al-'Abbâs solemnly transferred his nephew from under his own protection to that of the men from Medina, after these had promised a faithful discharge of the duties this involved. They swore to the Prophet to guard him against all that they guarded their wives and children from. He, on the other hand, promised thenceforward to consider himself wholly as one of themselves, and to adhere to their society. According to the tradition this remarkable scene was brought to a close by a sudden noise.

The Meccans soon got wind of the affair, notwithstanding the secrecy with which it had been gone about, but Ibn Obay, the leader of the Medina pilgrim caravan, whom they questioned next morning, was able with good conscience to declare that he knew nothing at all about it, as, being still a heathen, he had not been taken into the confidence of his Moslem comrades, and he had not observed their absence over night. The Meccans did not gain certainty as to what had occurred, until the men of Medina had left. They set out after them, but by this they gained nothing. They next tried, it is said, violently to prevent their own Moslems from migrating. After a considerable pause, they renewed the persecution of the adherents of the Prophet, compelling some to apostasy, and shutting up others in prison. But the measures they adopted were in no case effective, and at best served only to precipitate the crisis. A few days after the homage on the 'A⅛aba, Mohammed issued to his followers the formal command to emigrate. In the first month of the first year of the Flight (April 622) the emigration began; within two months some 150 persons had reached Medina. Apart from slaves, only a few were kept behind in Mecca.

Mohammed himself remained to the last in Mecca, in the company of Abùbekr and 'All. His reason for doing so is as obscure as the cause of his sudden flight. The explanation offered of the latter is a plan laid by the Meccans for his assassination, in consequence of which he secretly withdrew along with Abùbekr. For two or three days the two friends hid themselves in a cave of Mount Thaur, south from Mecca, till the pursuit should have passed over (sur. ix. 40). They then took the northward road and arrived safely in Medina on the 12th of Rabi' of the first year bf the Flight. Meanwhile, 'AH remained three days longer in Mecca, for the purpose, it is alleged, of restoring to its owners all the property which had been entrusted for safe keeping to the Prophet. The Koraish left him entirely unmolested, and threw no obstacle in the way when at last he also took his departure.

With the Flight to Medina a new period in the life of the Prophet begins; seldom does so great a revolution occur in the circumstances of any man. Had he remained in Mecca he would in the best event have died for his doctrine, and its triumph would not have come until after his death. The Flight brought it about that he, the founder of a new religion, lived also to see its complete victory,—that in his case was united all that in Christendom is separated by the enormous interval between Christ and Constantine. He knew how/to utilize Islam as the means of founding the Arabian commonwealth; hence the rapidity of its success. That this was of no advantage for the religion is easily understood. It soon lost the ideality of its beginnings, for almost from the first it became mixed up with the dross of practical considerations. In reaching its goal so soon its capability of development was checked for all time to come; in every essential feature it received from Mohammed the shape which it has ever since retained. It ought not, however, to be overlooked that the want of ideality and spiritual fruitfulness was partly due to its Arabian origin.

Mohammed in the first instance took up his quarters in the outlying village of Kobâ, where several of his most zealous adherents had their homes, and had already built a mosque. It was not until after some days had passed, and he had made himself sure of the best reception, that he removed to the city itself, which at that time bore the name of Yathrib. All were anxious to have him; in order that none might feel themselves slighted, he left the decision to the camel (al-Kaswa) on which he rode. It knelt down in an open space in the quarter of the Banιi Najjâr, which he accordingly selected as the site of the mosque and of his own house. At first he took quarters for seven months in the house of Abù Ayyùb; within this interval the mosque was finished, which was to serve at once as the place of religious gatherings and as the common hall. Close to it was the Prophet’s private dwelling, consisting of the huts of his wives, in one or other of which he lived. At that time he had only one wife, the Sauda already mentioned; but soon he married, in addition, the youthful 'Aisha, the daughter of his friend Abùbekr, who acquired great influence over him. Some of the leading emigrants built houses in the same neighbourhood, while the rest continued to be quartered with the people of Medina.

Medina is situated on a westward spur of the Arabian tableland, on the Wadi Kanât. It is an oasis amongst barren rocks, mostly of volcanic origin. The inhabitants supported themselves by their date palms and by the field and garden fruits that grew under their shadow; they had their homes partly in the town itself and partly in the suburbs and outlying villages. At one time the oasis had belonged to the Jews, as the similar oases to the north still did—Wadi Ί-Korâ, Khaibar, Fadak, Taimâ. But some centuries before Mohammed’s time, Arabs of Yemen, the Banù Kaila, had immigrated and partially driven the Jews away. Many Jews, however, still continued to live there, partly scattered among the Arab tribes and under their protection, partly also in independent communities such as the Kaino⅛<4, the Nadir, and the Koraiza. For them it was a great advantage that the Arabs were not agreed among themselves. The Band Kaila were divided into two branches, the Aus and the Khazraj, who were constantly at daggers drawn. The mutual hate which burned within them, from time to time manifested itself in murder and assassination, if by any chance one of the Aus had wandered into a Khazraj ite quarter, or vice versâ. Shortly before the arrival of Mohammed, the battle of Bo'âth had taken place within the liberties of Medina, in which the Aus, with the help of their Jewish allies, had vanquished the Khazraj and broken their preponderance. The Khazraj were the more numerous and powerful, and seem to have been on the point of making their leading man, Ibn Obay, the king of Medina; by the battle of Bo'âth the balance of parties—and anarchy—was preserved in the interests of a third, who came in at the right moment to settle these feeble and exhausting feuds and restore order.

The circumstances were singularly fitted to change the religious influence which Mohammed brought along with him into another of a political character, and from being a prophet to make him the founder of a commonwealth. The Arabs had hitherto been accustomed to lay before their Kâhins, or priestly seers, at the sanctuaries, for decision in God’s name, all sorts of disputes and hard questions which ordinary means were inadequate to decide. The religious prestige which Mohammed enjoyed led directly to his being frequently called in as adviser and judge. In Medina quarrels and complications were abundant, and an authority to stand over both parties was much needed. Mohammed met this need in the manner which was most acceptable to the Arabs; the authority he exercised did not rest upon force, but upon such a voluntary recognition of the judgment of God as no one had any need to be ashamed of. In principle, it was the same kind of judicial and public influence as had been possessed by the old Kâhins, but its strength was much greater. This arose not only from the peculiarly favourable circumstances, but above all from Mohammed’s own personality. It is impossible to understand the history until one has mastered the fact of his immense spiritual ascendency over the Arabs. The expedient of giving oneself out for the messenger of God, and one’s speech as the speech of God, is of no avail to one who finds no credence; and credence such as Mohammed received is not given for any length of time either to an impostor or a dupe. Even the respect in which he was held as a prophet would have helped him little if his decisions had been foolish and perverse. But they were in accordance with truth and sound understanding; he saw into things and was able to solve their riddle; he was no mere enthusiast, but a thoroughly practical nature as well.

It was not long before he was able to demand as of right that which, in the first instance, had been a voluntary tribute. “Every dispute which ye have one with another ye shall bring before God and Mohammed;” so runs the text in the original constitution for Medina, set up in the first years after the Flight; and in the Koran a rebuke is given to those who continue to seek the administration of justice at the hands of the false gods, i.e. of their priests and seers. With incredible rapidity the Prophet as a veritable “hâkim biamr Allâh” had come to be the most powerful man in all Medina.

Mohammed thus laid the foundations of his position in a manner precisely similar to that which Moses (Exod. xviii.) is said to have followed; and just as the Torah grew out of the decisions of Moses, so did the Sunna out of those of Mohammed. It was perhaps in judicial and regulative activity, which he continued quietly to carry on to the very end of his life, that his vocation chiefly lay. At all events his work in this direction was extremely beneficial, if only because he was the creator of law and justice where previously there had been nothing but violence, self-help, or at best voluntary arrangement. But the contents of his legislation also (if it can be called by such a name) marked a distinct advance upon what had been the previous use and wont in Arabia. In particular, he made it his special care to set a fence round the rights of property, and to protect and raise the place of woman in marriage. Blood revenge he retained indeed, but completely altered its character by reserving to himself the right of permitting it; in other words, the right of capital sentence. It need not be said that in many ways he availed himself of that which already existed, whether in the form of Arab usage or of J ewish law; he followed the latter, in particular, in his laws relating to marriage.

The new situation of affairs inevitably brought it about that religion was made a mere servant in the work of forming a commonwealth. Never has this service been better performed; never has it been utilized with greater adroitness as a means towards this end. In Mecca, Islam had originally been nothing more than the individual conviction of Mohammed; it was only after severe struggles that he went so far as to preach it, and even his preaching had no other aim than to create individual conviction in others. What he said was of the simplest description— that people ought to believe in God and in judgment to come, that men ought to live their lives seriously and not waste them in follies, that one ought not to be high-minded or covetous, and so on. A community arose, it is true, even in Mecca, and was confirmed by the persecutions. There also religious meetings were held and social prayers. But everything was still in a very fluid and rudimentary stage; religion retained its inward character. It was not until the first two years after the Flight that it gradually lost this, and became, if not exclusively, yet to a very large extent, a mere drill system for the community. No god but the one God (lâ ilâh illa ’llâh) was the entire sum of their dogmatic, and less importance was attached to belief in it than to profession of it. It was the watchword and battle-cry. The prayers took the form of military exercises; they were imitated with the greatest precision by the congregation, after the example of the Imâm. The mosque was, in fact, the great exercising ground of Islam; it was there that the Moslems acquired the esprit de corps and rigid discipline which distinguished their armies.

Next to the monotheistic confession (tauhid) and to prayer (salât) came almsgiving (zak<4t, sada⅛a) as a third important means by which Mohammed awakened and brought into action among hisfollowers the feeling of fellowship. The alms by and by grew to be a sort of tithe, which afterwards became the basis of the Moslem fiscal system, and so at the same time the material foundation of the Moslem state. Religion received so practical a development that of alms nothing but the name remained, and the convenient fiction that the taxes had to be paid to God.

Just in proportion to the closeness of the union into which Islam brought its followers did its exclusiveness towards them that were without increase. If in Mecca Mohammed in his relations to the other monotheistic religions had observed the principle, “he that is not against me is for me,” in Medina his rule was “he that is not for me is against me.” As circumstances were, he had to adjust matters chiefly with the Jews. Without any intention on their part, they had helped to prepare the ground for him in Medina; he had great hopes from them, and at first treated them on no different footing from that of the Arab families which recognized him. But as his relations with the Aus and Khazraj consolidated, those which he had with the Jews became less close. The conjunction of religious with political authority, the development of civil polity out of religion, of the kingship from the prophetic function, was precisely what they objected to. On the other hand, while the old polity of Medina, broken up and disorganized as it was, had no difficulty in tolerating foreign elements within its limits, the new political system created by Islam changed the situation, and rendered it necessary that these should be either assimilated or expelled.

Mohammed’s hostility to the Jews found expression, in the first instance, theoretically more than practically, and especially in the care with which he now differentiated certain important religious usages which he had taken over from Judaism, so that they became distinguishing marks between Islam and Mosaism. Thus, for example, he altered the direction of prayer (Kibla), which formerly used to be towards Jerusalem, so that it now was towards Mecca; and for the fast on the 10th of Tisri ('Ashùrâ) he substituted that of the month of Ramadan. In appointing Friday as the principal day of public worship, he may also possibly have had some polemical reference to the Jewish Sabbath. Of these alterations the greatest in positive importance is the transference of the Kibla to Mecca. It symbolizes the completion of the Arabizing process which went on step by step with the change Islam underwent from being an individual to being a political religion. In substituting the Meccan Ka'ba for the sanctuary at Jerusalem, Mohammed did not merely bid farewell to Judaism and assert his independence of it; what he chiefly did was to make a concession to heathenism, and bring about a nationalization of Islam, for the purpose of welding together the Arab tribes (Kabdil) into one community. Of similar significance was the institution of the feast of sacrifice ('id al-dohâ) on the day of the Meccan festival. The Moslems were to observe the latter as much as possible, even if they could not be actually present on the spot.

Thus we have the five chief precepts of Islam—(1) Confession of the unity of God; (2) stated prayer; (3) almsgiving; (4) the fast of Ramadan ; (5) observance of the festival of Mecca. Capable of having deeper meanings attached to them, but meritorious also, even in a merely external observance, they were an excellent instrumentality for producing that esprit de corps, that obedience to Allah and his messenger, which constituted the strength of the Moslem system. Up till that time blood-relationship had been the foundation of all political and social relations in Arabia; upon such a foundation it was impossible to raise any enduring edifice, for blood dissociates as much as it unites. But now, religion entered upon the scene as a much more energetic agent in building the social structure; it ruthlessly broke up the old associations, in order to cement the thus disintegrated elements into a new and much more stable system. The very hearts of men were changed; the sanctity of the old relationships faded away in the presence of Allâh; brother would have slain brother, had Mohammed willed it. The best Moslem was he who was the most remorseless in separating from the old and attaching himself to the new; Mohammed gave preference to active natures, even if they occasionally kicked over the traces; contemplative piety received from him only the praise of words. Over the anarchical rule of a multitude of families the sole sovereignty of God came forth triumphant; its subjects were united by the firmest of all bonds. Every Moslem was every Moslem’s brother, and, as matter of course, took his part as against every nonMoslem. Outside of Islam there was neither law nor safety; Allâh alone was powerful, and he protected those only who acknowledged his sole sovereignty.

The Emigrants (Mohâjira), who along with the Prophet had fled from Mecca, were the kernel and the cement of the community. It was made all the easier for them to give effect to the fundamental principle, that citizenship in Medina depended not on family but on faith, because the natives themselves (Ansâr, “the Defenders”), consisting of Aus and Khazraj, neutralized one another by their mutual enmity. Mohammed seems at first to have cherished the design not only of entirely disowning relationship with non-Moslems, but also of obliterating as much as possible, within Islam, the distinctions of blood, by means of the common faith. He established between emigrants and individual citizens of Medina relationships of brotherhood, which also involved heirship. But he soon abandoned this line, and expressly recognized the validity and sacredness, ιvithin Islam, of the old rights of family and inheritance (sur. viii. 76). Thus he refrained from carrying out to its full logical consequence the theoretical principle of equalization, but on practical grounds permitted the old order of society to continue. At a subsequent period, he even conceded to relationship and the ties of blood far larger rights than were compatible with Islam, and thus himself laid the foundations of the violent quarrel which rent the community, more particularly in the time of the Omayyads. Similarly it might be said that communism was originally involved in the principles of Islam; but it is characteristic that from the first the alms were less employed for the equalization of society, than for strengthening the hands of the ruling power. It frequently happens that a religious revolution finds expression also in the region of social polity; but it is remarkable to observe how Islam utilized the religious leaven from the first for a positive reorganization of society, and neutralized the destructive tendency which that leaven is wont to show in political affairs. It did not indeed succeed in totally destroying the radical tendency, as the history of the caliphate shows. But, on the whole, the equality before God which Islam teaches interfered hardly at all with the subordination of men to their human leaders; both were demanded by religion, both were taken sincerely, and each was found, in practice, reconcilable with the other.

That this new and drastic principle, thrown into the chaos of existing relations, must have exercised a mighty power both of attraction and repulsion is obvious. More than one naive expression bears witness to the astonishment with which the Arabs regarded the strange spirit which animated the community of the Moslems—the firmness with which they held together, the absolute and willing obedience which they gave to their leaders, the recklessness with which they disregarded everything that before Islam, or outside of it, was looked upon as holy. Some natures felt themselves attracted by these peculiarities, especially if on other grounds they felt little difficulty in severing themselves from their old connexions; but, on the whole, feelings of antipathy prevailed. Even in Medina itself this antipathy was widespread. The so-called hypocrites (monâfikùn) were either only half-attached to the Prophet or in their inmost hearts unfavourably disposed; they were kept from overt action partly by the absence of a decided opinion, partly by the terrorism which the convinced Moslems exercised. The reproach of hypocrisy brought against them means chiefly that they did not manifest a full acceptance of the new political relations. They could not reconcile themselves to the position of having never a word to say in their own town, and of being compelled to obey the Prophet from Mecca and those who had come with him. For a time the danger was imminent that all Medina (the Emigrants of course excepted) might be infected with hypocrisy, if one may call it hypocrisy when for a moment nature and blood asserted themselves against religious discipline and burst its bonds. The younger portion of the community, however, was on the whole enthusiastic for Mohammed; the hypocrites were for the most part older men, especially heads of families, who found it difficult to put up with the loss of political influence which they were suffering. As chief of their number Ibn Obay is always named, the foremost man of Medina, whom the Khazraj had thought of crowning as king, before matters were so fundamentally changed by Islam. Mohammed’s attitude towards him and the hypocrites in general was that of connivance,—thoroughly appropriate here, where political rather than religious affairs were involved, and the question was one less of principle than of power.

The founding of the state upon the feeling of fellowship generated by religion, was without question the Prophet’s greatest achievement: the community of Medina was the tool, its heroic faith the force, by means of which Islam attained the results which figure so largely in the history of the world. Moslem tradition, however, does not stop to inquire what it was that constituted the inward strength of Islam, but goes on at once to relate what were its outward manifestations. Its information on the subject of the period of Mohammed’s sojourn in Medina is given under the title of “the campaigns (maghâzi) of the apostle of God.” With a few of the smaller tribes in the neighbourhood of Medina (Johaina, Mozaina, Ghifâr, Aslam), and with the Khozâ'a, Mohammed maintained relations of peace and amity; benevolent neutrality gradually grew into alliance, and finally union with the commonwealth of Medina. But towards all the rest of Arabia his very principles placed him in an attitude of war. Ever since Islam from being a religion had become a kingdom, he was compelled to vindicate, by means of war against unbelievers, its claims to supremacy; the conflict of principles had to be settled by the sword, the sole sovereignty of Allâh demonstrated by force to the rebels who showed unwillingness to accept it. More literally than Christ could Mohammed say of himself that he was come not to bring peace but a sword. Islam was a standing declaration of war against idolaters.

The nearest object against which to direct the holy war (jilιAd) was presented by the Meccans. Against them first did Mohammed bring into operation the new principle, that it is faith and not blood that separates and unites. According to Arab notions it was a kind of high treason on his part to leave his native town in order to join a foreign society; on the part of the people of Medina it was an act of hostility to Mecca to receive him among them. The Meccans would have been fully justified on their side in taking arms against the Moslems, but they refrained, being too much at their ease, and shrinking besides from fratricidal war. It was the Moslems who took the initiative; aggressiveness was in their blood. Mohammed began with utilizing the favourable position of Medina, on a mountain spur near the great highway from Yemen to Syria, to intercept the Meccan caravans. Originally he sent forth only the Emigrants to take part in the expeditions, as the people of Medina had pledged themselves to defend him only in the event of his being attacked; soon, however, they also joined him. What first induced them to do so was the prospect of booty; afterwards it was impossible to separate themselves, so great was the fusion of elements which had been quietly going on within the crucible of Islam.

The first plunder was taken in the month Rajab, a.h. 2 (Autumn 623), in which circumstance was at once seen the advantage arising from the change of conscience brought about by the new religion; for in Rajab feuds and plundering raids were held to be unlawful. Relying upon the sacredness of this month a caravan of Koraish was returning from Tâif laden with leather, wine, and raisins. But this did not prevent Mohammed from sending out a band of Emigrants to surprise the caravan at Nakhla, between Tâif and Mecca; his orders to this effect were given in a document which was not to be unsealed until two days after the departure of the expedition. The plan was carried out, and the surprise was all the more successful, because the robbers gave themselves the outward semblance of pilgrims; one Meccan was killed in the struggle. But the perfidy with which in this instance Mohammed’s advanced religious views enabled him to utilize for his own advantage the pious custom of the heathen roused in Medina itself such a storm of disapproval, that he found himself compelled to disavow his own tools. In Mohammedan tradition, the contents of the unambiguous document in which he ordered the surprise are usually falsified.

The Koraish still remained quiet; another outrage had yet to come. In Ramadan a.h. 2 (December 623), the return of their great Syrian caravan was expected, and Mohammed resolved to lie in wait for it at Bedr, a favourite watering-place and camping-ground, northward from Medina. For this purpose he set out thither in person along with 308 men; but the leader of the caravan, the Omayyad Abù Sofyân, got word of the plan and sent a messenger to Mecca with a request for speedy help. Concern about their money and goods at last drove the Koraish to arms; a very short interval found them, 900 strong, on the road to Bedr. By the way they received intelligence that the caravan had made a circuit to the west of Bedr, and was already in safety. Nevertheless they resolved, at the instance of the Makhzumit Abù Jahl, for the sake of their honour, to continue their march. When the Moslems first got touch of them at Bedr, they took them for the caravan; their surprise on discovering the truth may be imagined. But, kept firm by the courage of their leader, they resolved to face the superior numbers of the enemy.

On the morning of Friday, the 17th of Ramadan, the encounter took place. A number of duels were fought in the front, which were mostly decided in favour of the Moslems. The Meccans at last gave up the fight, strictly speaking for no other cause than that they did not see any reason for carrying it on. They were reluctant to shed the blood of their kinsmen; they were awestruck in presence of the gloomy determination of their adversaries, who did know what they were fighting for, and were absolutely reckless of consequences. After a number of the noblest and oldest of the Koraish, including at last Abιi Jahl, had fallen, those who remained took to flight. The number of the dead is said to have been as great as that of the prisoners. Two of the latter, whom he personally hated, Mohammed caused to be put to death— O⅛ba b. Abi Mo'ait and al-Nadr b. al-Hârith. When the last named had perceived, from the Prophet’s malignant glance, the danger in which he stood, he implored an old friend of his among the Moslems for his intercession. This request being refused, al-Nadr said: “Had the Koraish taken thee prisoner, thou hadst not been put to death as long as I had lived to which the apologetic reply was: “I do not doubt it, but I am differently placed from thee, for Islam has made an end of the old relations.” To the remaining prisoners life was spared on payment by their kinsmen of a heavy ransom; but Mohammed is said to have afterwards reproached himself for having allowed considerations of earthly gain to keep him back from sending them all to hell as they deserved.

The battle of Bedr is not only the most celebrated of battles in the memory of Moslems; it was really also of great historical importance. It helped immensely to strengthen Mohammed’s position. Thenceforward open opposition to him in Medina was impossible; families which had hitherto withdrawn themselves from his influence were so thoroughly cowed by some atrocious murders carried out in obedience to his orders, that they went over to Islam. He was now in a position to proceed to break up the autonomy of the Jews. In the first instance, he addressed himself to the weak Banù Kainokâ, demanding their acceptance of Islam; on their refusal, he took the earliest opportunity that offered itself to declare war against them. After a short siege they were compelled to surrender; and they might congratulate themselves that their old ally, Ibn Obay, was able to concuss the Prophet into sparing their lives, and contenting himself with their banishment from Medina. Soon afterwards other blows were struck, in the shape of assassinations, by means of which Mohammed put out of the way several of the Jews whom he hated most, such as Ka'b b. al-Ashraf and Ibn Sonaina. The state of fear to which the rest were reduced may readily be imagined; they came to the Prophet and begged him to be propitious. If in other days their dislike had found somewhat public expression in all sorts of witticisms and scornful sayings, they were now at least modest and quiet, and kept their hatred to themselves.

The Meccans also were very deeply impressed by the defeat inflicted on them by the Moslems. They saw clearly that the blow must be avenged, and they took comprehensive measures for their campaign. After a year’s delay, their preparations being now complete, and their allies (Ahâbish) assembled, they set out under the command of Àbù Sofyân, and without any check reached Medina, where they pitched their camp to the north-east of the city, in the green corn-fields by Mount Ohod. In Medina the elders were for awaiting the attack on the town and defending themselves within it, but the young men hurried the Prophet into the determination to meet the enemy without the gates; this resolution once come to he persevered in, even after those who had urged him to it had changed their minds. On the morning of Saturday, the 7th of Shawwal, a.h. 3 (Jan. Feb. 625), the armies met. At first the battle seemed to be going once more in favour of the Moslems; one after another the standard-bearers and champions of the enemy fell, the whole host wavered, and even the camp was gained. But here their lust for plunder did them an evil turn. Mohammed had covered his left flank against the Meccan horsemen by a number of bowmen, whom he had ordered on no account to leave their post. But as soon as they saw that the enemy’s camp was taken, they threw off all discipline, and determined to have their share of what was going. It thus became possible for the Meccan cavalry to fall upon the Moslem rear, and snatch back the victory that had already been won. In the confusion which now ensued Mohammed himself was wounded in the face, and for some time lay for dead on the ground. Among the slain was found his uncle, Hamza b. 'Abdalmottalib, “the lion of God;” his liver was cut out and carried to Abù Sofyân’s wife, Hind bint Otba, whose father had been killed by Hamza at Bedr. But the Meccans did not know how to follow up their triumph. Instead of at once attacking Medina—where, to be sure, a second struggle with Ibn Obay, who with his following had not taken part in the battle at Ohod, would have been necessary—they contented themselves with the honour of their victory, and took the road home, after having summoned the Moslems to a repetition in the following year of the duel at Bedr. Mohammed even pursued them for a short distance on the following day (as far as to Hamrâ al-Asad), of course only for the sake of appearances, that the Arabs might not suppose him to have been daunted by his defeat.

Nothing came of the proposed meeting at Bedr, the Meccans failing to put in an appearance. The principal event of a.h. 4 was the expulsion of the Banti Nadir, the most distinguished and powerful Jewish family in Medina (Summer 625). Mohammed, under some pretext, suddenly broke with them and ordered their departure within ten days, on pain of death. Relying upon the support of Ibn Obay, they resolved to resist, and sustained a siege within their walls; but the ally they had counted on proved a broken reed, and they were soon compelled to surrender. They were permitted to withdraw, taking along with them all their movable property except their arms. With music and roll of drum, the women in gala dress, they marched through the streets of Medina, on their way to Khaibar, where they had property. Their land the Prophet appropriated to himself (sur. lix. 7); the income derived from it could be employed to meet the numerous claims that were made upon him. He seems also to have handed over some of it to the Emigrants, who until then had acquired no property in land in Medina.

Meanwhile, the Banti Nadir were not idle in Khaibar, but left no stone unturned to annihilate their mortal enemy. They succeeded in bringing about an alliance of the Koraish and the great Bedouin tribes of Solaim and Ghatafàn, for the suppression of Islam. In the month

Dhti Ί-ka'da, a.h. 5 (March 627), the three armies set out, 10,000 strong, under the command of Abù Sofyân. Mohammed received word of this through the Khozâ'a, who secretly played into his hands, and on this occasion he resolved, not as formerly to offer battle on the open field, but to make preparation for a siege. For the most part the houses of the town were built so close to one another as to make a continuous wall; at the north-west corner only was there a wide open space, through which an enemy could easily effect an entrance. Here Mohammed, with the advice and direction of the Persian freedman Salmân, drew a ditch, behind which he entrenched himself with the Moslems, the hill of Sal' protecting their rear. This fosse, which has become famous, and has even given its name to the entire campaign (the War of the Fosse), fully served its purpose. The enemy with their cavalry perseveringly directed their attack on this spot, but were constantly repelled by the vigilant and courageous defence of the fosse. They at last gave up all hope of reaching their end in this way, unless a simultaneous attack were to succeed in another quarter. To assist them in this, they endeavoured to stir up the Koraiza, the last autonomous family of Jews still remaining in Medina, having their settlements in the south-east of the town. The Nadirite Hoyay b. Akhtab, the most zealous promoter of the alliance against Mohammed, undertook charge of the negotiations, and succeeded at last in persuading their prince, Ka'b b. Asad, to break his pact of neutrality with the Moslems. But nothing came of it. The Jews doubted the perseverance of the Koraish and their allies—they had their fears lest, if the struggle proved a protracted one, the besiegers might withdraw and leave them to their fate. They accordingly demanded hostages in security against such an event, being otherwise determined not to break up all hope of reconciliation with Mohammed by entering the contest. This attitude, in turn, aroused suspicion on the part of the besiegers, whom it was not difficult to convince that the Jews were demanding hostages of them for the purpose of handing them over to Mohammed, and so making their peace with him. All this crippled their activities still more than did the failure of their own attacks upon the fosse. The season also was against them; the weather was windy, the nights extremely cold, and, worst of all, the fields yielded nothing. From this cause the chief sufferers were the Bedouins, who had brought no forage for their camels and horses. Mohammed, who appears to have been kept well informed of their mood, judged it expedient to open negotiations with them. These were soon broken off indeed, but the mere fact that the Ghatafàn had ever entered upon them was enough to create mutual suspicion amongst the allies. One stormy night the Meccans suddenly raised the siege, after it had lasted fourteen days, and returned home; they were followed by the Ghatafàn and Solaim. It was with no small joy that the Moslems on the following morning discovered the departure of the enemy; it would have been impossible for them to have held out much longer, exhausted as they were, not less by cold and hunger, than by the fatigues of constantly mounting guard. As soon as Mohammed had given them permission to leave the camp beside the hill of SaΓ, they dispersed with the greatest alacrity to their homes.

Mohammed, however, did not allow them much time to recruit. Hardly had they reached their abodes, when he again called them to arms against the treacherous Koraiza. The unlucky Jews had been given over to the sword by the withdrawal of the allies; a siege of fourteen days compelled them to surrender unconditionally. The men were driven in chains to the house of Osâma b. Zaid, whence on the following morning Mohammed caused them to be brought one by one to the market-place of Medina, and there executed. This continued till late in the evening. They were six or seven hundred in number, and among them was the Nadirite Hoyay b. Akhtab, the author of the War of the Fosse, who had left the Meccans to join his fortunes with those of the Koraiza. By accepting Islam these men could have saved their lives, but they preferred death. No more magnificent martyrdom is known to history. The women and children were sold into slavery; one young woman only, Ban<4na, suffered the penalty of death for having broken the head of a Moslem with a millstone during the siege. With joyous heart and smiling face she went to meet her death, never forgotten by 'Aisha, with whom she was when her name was called. The Prophet selected for himself the fair Raihâna, and married her, after having caused her to become a convert to Islam.

The War of the Fosse was the last attack made by the Koraish upon Medina; Mohammed now began to take the offensive towards Mecca. This he at first set about with extreme diplomacy, utilizing the festival, and the truce of God subsisting at the time of the festival, for the purpose of paying a visit to his native town. Although unsuccessful in winning to his side the neighbouring tribes of Bedouins, it was nevertheless with a considerable following (1500 men) that in Dhù Ί-ka'da a.h. 6 (March 628), he set out on his journey. In a dream he had had the key of the Ka'ba delivered to him; on the strength of this his followers believed firmly in the success of the expedition. But the Koraish were determined that the pretext of pilgrimage should not avail their adversary; they summoned their allies and formed a camp to the north of their town for the purpose of preventing the entrance of the Moslems. Mohammed was forced to halt at Hodaibiya on the borders of the sacred territory, and it was in vain that by fair speeches he sought to obtain permission to make the circuit of the Ka'ba. He felt himself too weak to force his way, and accordingly preferred to treat. While the envoys were passing to and fro, there suddenly arose an alarm in the Moslem camp; they apprehended a sudden act of treachery on the part of the Meccans. It was on this occasion that the famous Homage under the Tree took place, when Mohammed pledged his followers by striking hands that they would stand by him and go to death for his sake. Some of the Koraish agents witnessed the scene, and were immensely impressed by it; such an enthusiastic obedience as Mohammed received, such an ascendency over the minds of men as he exercised, they had never before conceived to be possible, and on their return they urged their people in the strongest way not to permit matters to come to extremities. The Koraish accordingly judged it best to offer a bargain with Mohammed, the terms being that for this year he was to withdraw, so that the Arabs might not say that he had forced an entrance, but that on the following year he was to return and be permitted to remain three days within the sacred territory for the purpose of sacrifice. After some discussion Mohammed accepted this proposal, although zealous Moslems detected a discreditable shortcoming in matters of faith, in so far as it involved turning back within sight of the Ka'ba without being allowed to accomplish the sacred circuit. When the agreement was to be committed to writing, Mohammed dictated the words: “In the name of Allâh, the merciful Rahman”; but the Meccan plenipotentiary, Sohail b. 'Amr, declared that he knew nothing about Rahmân, and insisted upon the customary formula—“In thy name, A11A-hornma !” The Moslems murmured, but Mohammed yielded. He then went on to dictate: “This is the treaty of peace between the apostle of God.” . . . Sohail anew protested; to acknowledge Mohammed as the apostle of God, would be to declare himself his follower; the designation ought to be simply Mohammed b. 'Abdallhh. The Moslems murmured louder than before, and refused to consent to the change. The heads of the two tribes of Medina, Osaid b. Hodair and Sa'd b. 'Ob<4da, held the hand of the scribe and declared that “Mohammed the apostle of God” must be written, or the sword must decide. The Meccan representatives whispered to one another words of amazement at the spirit displayed by these men. But Mohammed made a sign to the zealots to hold their peace, and again gave way (sur. xvii. 110). The writing which now took shape ran as follows :—

“In thy name, 0 God! This is the treaty of peace concluded by Mohammed b. 'Abdallah and Sohail b. 'Amr. They have agreed to allow their arms to rest for ten years. During this time each party shall be secure, and neither shall injure the other; no secret damage shall be inflicted, but uprightness and honour prevail betwixt us. Whosoever wishes to enter into treaty and covenant with Mohammed can do so, and whosoever wishes to enter into treaty and covenant with the Koraish can do so. But if a Koraishite comes without permission of his guardian (Wall) to Mohammed, he shall be delivered up; but if, on the other hand, one of Mohammed’s people comes to the Koraish he shall not be delivered up. This year Mohammed with his companions must withdraw from us, but next year he may come amongst us and remain for three days, yet without other weapons than those of a traveller, the swords remaining in their sheaths.”

The first result of the treaty was that the Khozâ'a declared for alliance with Mohammed; while, on the other hand, the Bekr b. Kinâna joined themselves to the Koraish.

To compensate his followers for the apparent resultless-ness of this expedition, Mohammed immediately after their return led them out against the rich Jews of Khaibar (northwards from Medina), whither the Baml Naclir had migrated, and from which place they had unceasingly stirred up opposition against the Prophet. Hitherto he had contented himself with putting out of the way, by means of assassination, some of their leading men who seemed to him to be particularly dangerous, such as Abd Râfi' and Yosair b. R<izim, but now he resorted to wholesale measures. In Moharram, a.h. 7 (May 628), he made his appearance before Khaibar with a powerful army; in the plunder only those who had taken part in the expedition of Hodaibiya were to share, but many others besides accompanied them. The Jews, although aware of the hostility of Mohammed’s intentions, were nevertheless taken completely by surprise when one morning they saw him and his troops encamp before their strongholds. One of their leaders had given them the excellent advice not to shut themselves up by families in their quarters, but to construct a common camp in the fields, otherwise they were likely to share the fate of their coreligionists in Medina. But they replied that their strongholds were of a different sort, perched on impregnable summits, and they remained shut up within them. They had neither discipline nor order, courage nor devotion. As they were wanting in community of feeling, so also were they lacking in leaders. Their best man, Salâm b. Mishkâm, lay on a sick-bed; his place was by no means supplied by Kinâna b. b. Abi ’ 1-Hokaik. When they suddenly became aware that they had been completely abandoned by their Arab allies, the Ghatafhn, their heart utterly failed them. When besieged in any of their citadels, they hardly ever waited to be stormed, but after one or two sorties evacuated it and withdrew to another, where the same story was repeated. Thus citadel after citadel fell into the hands of the Moslems; treachery, which had something to do with the surrender, was well-nigh superfluous. From Al-Natât the Jews were driven to Al-Shikk, and at last nothing was left to them but Al-Katiba (with Al-Watih and Solâlim). There they remained shut up and filled with fear, without even risking, as formerly, single combats and skirmishes before their citadels. After some time they asked for peace, and obtained it on the footing that they retained their lives, wives and children, and one garment each, but gave up all their property, the penalty of concealing anything being death. Kinâna b. b. Abi ’ 1-Hokaik was cruelly tortured, and at last put to death because he had buried the renowned jewels of his family; thus at the same time his handsome wife Safiya bint Hoyay was left free for Mohammed.

His marriage with “the daughter of the king” wound up the prosperous campaign. ⅛afiya felt no repulsion towards the man who had caused the death of her father Hoyay, and of her husband Kinâna; she gracefully accommodated herself to the situation. More worthy was the demeanour of another Jewess, Zainab, who made the attempt to poison the executioner of her people, and atoned for this offence by her death. The attempt was unsuccessful, but Mohammed believed that even in his last illness he could trace the effects of the poison.

Simultaneously with Khaibar, Fadak also fell into his hands, and shortly afterwards Wadi Ί-Korâ, where also there were settlements of Jews. The plunder was very considerable. So far as it consisted of movables, it was gathered together into a heap, and put up to auction; the proceeds were then divided. Mohammed insisted very strictly that no one should be permitted to plunder for his own hand. The property in land, palm plantations, vegetable gardens, were allowed for the time being to remain at a rent in the hands of the Jews; half of the produce had to be paid to the new owners. The lion’s share of the spoil fell to the lot of God, i.e. of the Prophet —a fifth of the movables, of the real estate a larger proportion. He consequently had at his command considerable material resources, and he well knew how to employ them, not only for the enrichment of his family, but also for gaining over to his side such individuals as were more accessible to payment than to principles.

The peace of Hodaibiya, with the subsequent conquest of Khaibar, closes the first period of Mohammed’s life at Medina; strictly speaking, indeed, it merely confirmed the status which in point of fact the War of the Fosse had already given him. If at first it seemed as if Mohammed had shamefully given way, it soon became apparent, nevertheless, that the advantage lay with him. “No victory of Islam,” Abùbekr was wont to say, “has more importance than the treaty of Hodaibiya; men are always for hurrying things on, but God lets them ripen.” “Previously there had subsisted a wall of partition between the Moslems and the rest of men: they never spoke to each other; wherever they met, they began to fight. Subsequently hostility died down; security and mutual confidence took its place. Every man of even moderate intelligence who heard of Islam joined it; in the twenty-two months during which the truce subsisted, the number of conversions was greater than throughout the whole of the previous period; the faith diffused itself in all directions among the Arabs.”

As a religion Islam did not attract the Arabs; they had no inclination to pray, read the Koran, and give alms. Of this they had given sufficient evidence by their perennial feuds with Mohammed, and by the murder of divers of his missionaries who were sent to teach them the faith. We can hardly believe that a new spirit now suddenly possessed them. Their change of attitude was merely due to the imposing effect of the rising might of Islam. They began to respect the Moslems, who, in spite of their small numbers, could defy a whole world, because they were of one mind, and did not ask what the world thought. They saw that, in the great conflict between Mecca and Medina, in which as actors or as spectators they had all participated, the victory inclined more and more to the side of Medina, that force could accomplish nothing against faith. The prestige of Mecca was shaken by the War of the Fosse, and was not restored by the treaty of Hodaibiya, in which the Koraish waved Mohammed off with the open hand, and at the same time permitted him to return next year. Islam had “stretched out its neck” —had consolidated itself into indestructible existence— it now fought for victory. There was, moreover, another argument in favour of the new religion, to which the Arabs were very sensible—the rich booty, to wit, which the Moslems acquired by their continual forays. There is no question that the material success of Islam was the chief force that attracted new adherents.

The treaty of Hodaibiya gave a breathing space to the two combatants, and of this the prophet reaped the whole advantage. The truce, which lasted for almost two years, brought to the Meccans an almost unbroken series of humiliations and losses. Contrary to all expectation, the provision made in their favour, by which Mohammed bound himself to send back such of their sons as deserted to him before their majority, turned to their hurt, so that they had to ask Mohammed to have it changed. Still more serious for them was the desertion of three eminent men, Khâlid b. al-Walid, 'Amr b. al-'As, and Othmân b. Talha, whom the Pκ>phet received with open arms. Next year they looked on with shame and concealed indignation when the Prophet, availing himself of his stipulated right, entered the city with 2000 men, and performed the sacred ceremonies (Omrat al-Kadâ, March 629). Still they were afraid to break with him again, and did not even venture to rid themselves of his spies, the Khozâ'a, who lived in their midst. “When they put one foot forward they draw the other back; they are convinced that Mohammed will win”—such was the impression the Koraish made on the Bedouins, who have a very keen instinct in matters of this sort They had lost confidence in themselves; they knew that the fight was not fought out, but they dared not seek to bring it to a decision.

Against their will the decision came. The Banù Bekr fell upon Mohammed’s friends, the Khozâ'a, and were supported by some of their Koraishite allies. The Khozâ-ites complained to the Prophet, who eagerly seized the pretext for war. In vain did the Meccans send Abù Sofyân to Medina to renew the truce; they could not move the Prophet from his purpose. In Ramadan, a.π. 8 (January 630), he moved against Mecca with an army of 10,000 men. With the Emigrants and the Defenders were mustered the Aslam, Ghifâr, Mozaina, Johaina, and Ashja'; the Solaim and the Khozâ'a joined them on the way. The Bedouins were drawn by the hope of booty; the Fazârite 'Oyaina was sorely vexed that he had left his Ghatafân at home, not knowing what was in view, for Mohammed at first kept the aim of his expedition a secret. Some of the Meccan nobles must, however, have known it; Makhrama b. Naufal, for example, and the Prophet’s uncle, 'Abbâs, did not await the capture of their city, but deserted to the enemy while he was still distant. Abù Sofyân, in particular, must have been in the secret; it appears that at Medina he received the promise that the holy city should be spared if it yielded pacifically, and that he pledged himself to do his best to play into the hands of the Prophet. But before the populace it was necessary to keep up the appearance of a sudden surprise, an inevitable submission to an unforeseen display of force. The same comedy was repeated afterwards at Tâif; the headmen treated with the Prophet without consulting the Thakafites, and then contrived that the result of their policy should appear to be forced by the course of events. The Moslems were on the border of the holy land before the Meccans suspected their approach; then suddenly one night 10,000 fires were seen rising to heaven to the northwest of the holy city. In well-feigned surprise Abu Sofyân hastened to the hostile camp; he returned with the news that the Moslems were at the gates, that an improvised resistance could effect nothing against their force; the only wise course was a surrender—Mohammed had promised security to those who remained in their houses or threw away their weapons. The terrified Meccans had hardly any other course open to them than to follow this advice. And now the Moslems entered the city from several sides at once, meeting only at one point with an easily quelled resistance. Mohammed insisted that there should be no violence; he pledged the captains to avoid all bloodshed. Ten persons only were put to the ban, and of these one half were subsequently pardoned. He took all pains to preserve the sanctity of Mecca unimpaired, confirmed the rights and privileges therewith connected, and made it plain that the old cultus should not be less flourishing under Islam. The ceremonies were retained, save only that he abolished all idols, both the domestic gods found in every house and the images in and round the Ka'ba. But every sanctuary outside of Mecca was destroyed, except such as had a part in the celebration of the Feast, and so stood in connexion with the Ka'ba itself. Thus the Meccan worship gained a new and unique importance. Mohammed’s reform did for Mecca what Josiah’s did for J erusalem.Z

The last step towards that identification of the Ka'ba with Islam, which made it the religious centre of the Moslem world, was not taken till the following year, when the famous Renunciation (Barâ’a) of sur. ix. forbade the heathen to share in the Feast, which was henceforth to be a strictly Moslem ordinance, and at the same time abrogated the peace of the holy months. A year later (Dhù Ί-Hijja, A.H. 10, March 632) he himself celebrated the Feast for the first time in the orthodox fashion, introducing certain modifications on the traditional practice and reducing certain varieties of use to uniform rule. In all this he professed to re-establish the true ancient use, purged of heretical deviations from the example of Abraham. At the same time he remodelled the Calendar, forbidding the occasional interpolation of a month as an arbitrary and human invention, and establishing the true lunar year of twelve lunations.

We return to the capture of Mecca. The submission of the Koraish was followed by that of their nomad brethren and allies. But the neighbouring Hawâzin, to whom belonged also the Thakafite inhabitants of Tâif, assembled for battle with the Moslems. They camped in Autâs between Tâif and Mecca. Mohammed advanced against them, and battle was joined in the valley of Honain. The Moslems were broken by the first charge of the foe; for a moment the Prophet himself was in danger, till the Khazraj rallied round him, checked the onset of the Hawâzin, and at length turned them to flight. A vast booty rewarded the victors; for the Hawâzin had brought all their herds and non-combatants with them and placed them in the rear, that they might feel what they were fighting for. Mohammed caused the prey to be conveyed to the glen of Ji'râna, outside the north-west border of the Haram, a little way off the great valley that descends from Tâif; he himself pressed on to Tâif itself. Here, however, he failed in his object; in a dream he saw a cock peck a hole in a bowl of cream that was set before him, so that the contents ran out. After fourteen days he gave up the siege and marched to Ji'râna to deal with the booty. He had deferred this task in the hope that the Hawâzin would be tempted to embrace Islam in order to recover their families and cattle. But as they still sent no ambassadors, he had to yield to the pressure of the Bedouins and divide the spoil. When it was too late, the messengers of the Hawâzin appeared to announce their conversion; they had now to give up their herds, and content themselves that their -wives and children were restored to them, through the mediation of the Prophet with their new masters. The Bedouins received compensation for what they gave up; the Emigrants and Defenders gave up their captives freely. Altogether the men of Medina fared worst in the distribution of booty, though they had borne the brunt of the conflict; those who fared best were the nobles Of Mecca, who had no share in the fight, but whom Mohammed desired to conciliate by gifts (sur. ix. 60).

The fall of Mecca reacted powerfully on the future development of Islam. Again the saying came true: victa victores cepit ; the victory of the Moslems over the Koraish shaped itself into a domination of the Koraish over the Moslems. For this the Prophet himself was to blame. In making Mecca the Jerusalem of Islam, he was ostensibly moved by religious motives; but in reality Mohammed’s religion had nothing to do with the heathenish usages at the Ka'ba and the Great Feast. To represent Abraham as the founder of the ritual was merely a pious fraud. What Mohammed actually sought, was to recommend Islam to Arabic prejudices by incorporating this fragment of heathenism, and at the same time he was influenced by his local patriotism. Henceforth these local feelings became quite the mainspring of his conduct; his attitude to the Koraish was determined entirely by the spirit of clannishness. Hence the extraordinary value he set on the conciliation of their chiefs; one gains the impression that he cared more for this than for the conversion of all the rest of the world. He left to them all that they already had; he gave them in addition whatever they asked, if only they would be his good friends. Abu Sofyân was a great man already, but Mohammed hastened to raise his power by giving him rule over a broad tract southward from Mecca. He used every means to make their conversion easy to the Koraish, and to convince them that they were losing little and gaining much. They had the sense to understand this and act accordingly; they were soon the best of Moslems, and that for the best practical reasons.

The men of Medina, as was natural, felt themselves slighted in a special degree by this petting of the Koraish. They had done all and sacrificed all for the Prophet; were others now to reap the fruit of their labours 1 Had they by years of struggle made Mohammed Lord of Mecca, only that they might surrender in favour of Mecca the place they had hitherto held? Did he indeed esteem kinship so much more than tried service to the Faith? The Defenders had good ground for discontent, but Mohammed appeased them easily enough. He reminded them of their fellowship together in the great days of the past, of all that he had done for them, and they for him; he promised that their town should still be his residence, and so the political capital of Islam (Madinat al-Islâm). Then all the men wept till their beards were wet, and said: “O apostle of God, we are content with our share and lot !”

The Defenders murmured at the preference shown to the Koraish, because they desired preference for themselves. But already there were movements of an opposition from principle which deemed it a falling away from Islam to give any heed to kinship instead of to faith. It is related that the beginnings of the Khârijites (Dissenters) go back to the distribution of booty in W. Ji'râna. Certain it is that a worldly bias, which had indeed been introduced into Islam long before, then first became visible to every eye. Certain it is that Mohammed then sowed the seeds of the deep dissensions that rent his following after his death—of the struggle between religious democracy, such as Islam demanded, and the national aristocracy, which alone was really fit to hold rule in Arabia. It was Mohammed who placed the helm in the hands of the Koraish and opened the way to sovereignty for Abù Sofyân and his house, the Omayyads. If the Khârijite Dhù Ί-khowaisira spoke out against the Prophet himself at Ji'râna, the feeling that moved him was quite sound.

The last years of the Prophet were like the ingathering of a harvest laboriously reaped. The conquest of Mecca, so great was the impression it produced, was called “the Conquest,” as if it contained in itself all others. From every side, in the next two years, the sheikhs streamed to Medina to open negotiations for the acceptance of Islam by their tribes; if they did not come spontaneously, Mohammed sent to them. A change of heart on the part of the Arabs had no more share in these than in former conversions. It cost them no struggle to cast away their idols; the images and the sanctuaries fell quietly enough. Heathenism was a dead thing; superstitions could be transplanted into Islam. The unique sovereignty of Allâh was clearly evidenced in the fact that no might could withstand his. It is safe to affirm that the accessions to Islam were due to political more than religious impulses, and meant adherence to the state of Medina rather than to monotheism. The power to which that city had grown, acted as a force of attraction upon the Arabs; and their subjection was not the mere effect of fear, but expressed also that sense of the necessity for peace and order, which had led to the founding of states in the two previous centuries. Thus it becomes intelligible that from every side, by a sort of natural necessity, the masses of Arabian society were drawn towards the centre of attraction at Medina, and that the Prophet received the homage of distant tribes which he could not have influenced directly. The Christian tribes were not behind the rest, they were Arabs first and Christians after. Only the Christians of Najrân remained true to their faith; so did the Jews in all parts, and the Magians in the province of Bahrain. The last named, as idolaters, ought not in strictness to have been tolerated in the Moslem state; but practical considerations broke through theory, and the men of system had to accept the inconsistency with the best grace they could.

The signs of submission were—(1) the performance of the five daily prayers, or at least the proclamation of the times of prayer by the Muedhdhin; (2) the payment of the alms-tax; (3) the acceptance of the Moslem Law, which was introduced by qualified delegates from Medina. Otherwise things remained as they were; Mohammed was careful not to meddle with tribal affairs, and strengthened the existing aristocracies wherever he could do so. The change of faith was effected by treaty; the populace was not consulted, and the whole negotiations were directed by the Elders and Chiefs. For, in fact, purely political interests were involved.

A single case, about which our information is exceptionally full, will suffice in illustration. The Hawâzin had joined Mohammed after the battle of Honain, and now preached the duty of holy warfare against their kinsmen, the Thakafites of Tâif, who were still heathens. They made raids on the cattle pastured without the city, and made captives of those who ventured abroad. The Thakafites were exposed, alone and helpless, to the advances of Islam ∙, they dared not stir a foot beyond their walls. The heads of the city found the situation untenable, and resolved to do homage to the Prophet for the sake of peace. Ten ambassadors proceeded to Medina, and negotiations began as to the conditions of the conversion of the Thakif. The envoys desired that fornication, usury, and wine-drinking should be permitted to them; this Mohammed refused (sur. xvii. 234; ii. 278; v. 92); and they consented to yield the point when it was explained that, indispensable as these three practices might seem, the other Moslems had learned to give them up. There was more difficulty about the Rabba or Goddess of Tâif (alLât). The ambassadors begged that, as a concession to the foolish multitude, they might retain her for three years. When they found Mohammed resolute, they came down successively to two years, one year, and a month. Even this was refused; Mohammed’s sole concession was that they should not be obliged to destroy their goddess with their own hands. The deputation returned, and had nearly reached Tâif, when 'Abdyalfl counselled the others to make as if they had broken off the negotiation, and not to confess the conclusion of the pact till the Thakif showed no stomach for battle with Mohammed. With faces covered, like men who have no good news, they rode into the town, and first paid the customary visit to the temple of the Rabba. Then they told their tribesmen the conditions of treaty, declared them intolerable, and reviled Mohammed as a hard and arrogant man. “And so,” they concluded, “prepare for war, lay in provisions for two years; Mohammed will surely not maintain the siege longer; dig a fosse to protect your stronghold, and lose no time.” The Thakafites at first agreed to this; but in a few days they lost courage, and bade the negotiators return and accept the conditions. These then confessed the truth, and added that Mohammed’s emissaries would presently appear to destroy the Rabba. The destruction took place accordingly, to the terror of the women and children, but without a single man raising his hand.

The pilgrimage undertaken by Mohammed in the year 10 (March 632) was like a very triumph. All Arabia, apart from the vassals of Persia and Greece, lay at his feet. The greatest success of his life had been effected by sheer moral force without a stroke of the sword. But Arabia no longer sufficed him; he had wider aims. In his last years he began to extend the holy war against the Greeks. Even on his return from Hodaibiya, he began to direct envoys to several foreign potentates, with letters demanding their adhesion to Islam. One of these envoys was seized and beheaded in the Belkä, (the ancient Moab). Hence sprang the first campaign against the Greeks, i.e. the Arabs who were subject to the Greek empire. The army directed against them was, however, entirely defeated at Mu’ta (Autumn 629); Khâlid succeeded with difficulty in rallying and leading back the broken remnant of the host. Next summer the Nabataeans who visited the market of Medina spread a rumour that the Emperor Heraclius was collecting a vast force to attack the Moslems; and Mohammed set forth to meet him at the head of 30,000 men, but got no farther than Tabük, on the southern borders of ancient Edom, when the rumour was found to be false. The expedition, however, was not altogether fruitless, as it led to the submission of several small Jewish and Christian communities in the north of the Peninsula. Mohammed equipped a new expedition against the Greeks on his return from his “farewell pilgrimage,” and it was just ready to start when he died, on Monday, 8th June 632.

In forming an estimate of one who has exercised so unexampled an influence on the history of the world, we shall do well to bear in mind the hint of Gibbon, that “some reverence is surely due to the fame of heroes and the religion of nations.” The grounds on which Mohammed may be condemned are partly found in his private life. Although on the whole, even after he had become ruler of all Arabia, he maintained the original poverty and simplicity of his establishment, never set store by money and estate, eating and drinking and soft clothing, strictly continued to fast and watch and pray after his first fashion, and that, too, plainly out of a heartfelt need and without any ostentation, he nevertheless in one point at least used his supreme authority as prophet to make provision for the flesh. He claimed to be personally exempt from those restrictions in regard to the female sex which lay upon all other Moslems, and, as is well known, he made very extensive application of this fundamental principle. This fact is quite rightly urged against him as a reproach; even pious Moslems have been scandalised by it. At the same time, it is unnecessary to judge him on this account more harshly than we do Charlemagne, the most Christian king of the Franks; in any case we must not apply the standards of the present day to the circumstances of old Arabia. Of much weightier and indeed of crushing character is the accusation, that he did not really believe himself to be a prophet, but merely of set purpose played the part of one. For the first years of his activity indeed this charge is not now any longer maintained; it is universally granted that at that period his enthusiasm was genuine and real. But in Medina, we are told, he used his prophetic character simply as a pretext for the establishment of his power. It seems to the present writer that into this opinion there enter modern notions as to the separation between religion and the civil magistracy, which ought to be carefully kept out of sight. By any other instrumentality than that of a prophet it would hardly have been possible to found the state of Medina; religion was the soul of the community. The founding of a religion and the forming of a state were not connected in so merely external a way as is usually supposed; on the contrary, the one was the natural and necessary consequence of the other. This must certainly be conceded, that, if we are to make any distinctions at all, Islam was far less rich in religious meaning than in social forces. The Koran is Mohammed’s weakest performance; the weight of his historical importance lies in his work at Medina and not in that at Mecca. And it is a fact that the politician in him outgrew the prophet more and more, and that in many cases where he assigned spiritual motives he merely did so to give a fair appearance to acts that emanated from secular regards. In this respect it appears to us particularly objectionable that he gave out as revelations of God and placed in the Koran all sorts of regulations and orders of the day, which proceeded simply from his own deliberations or even in part were suggested to him by advisers from outside. At the same time the element of self-deception is not excluded even here; he took for a message sent down from heaven everything which in his cataleptic fits passed through his mind, however close might be its agreement with his own previously cherished thoughts. It was pardonable that he went on with the idea after he had once grasped it, that he blew upon the coals when the flame threatened to die out. It is less easy to free him from the reproach of perfidy and cruel vindictiveness. The surprise of Nakhla in the month Rajab (ordered by him, though he afterwards repudiated it), the numerous assassinations which he instigated, the execution of the 600 Jews at the close of the War of the Fosse, burden the Prophet heavily, and sufficiently explain the widespread antipathy in which he is held. Yet even in this respect it is well not to forget the instance, already cited, of Charlemagne. It is precisely the man of vast aims who finds it most difficult to keep the beaten path.

After the death of Mohammed arose the question who was to be his “representative” (Khalifa, Caliph). The choice lay with the community of Medina; so much was understood; but whom were they to choose? The natives of Medina believed themselves to be now once more masters in their own house, and wished to promote one of themselves. But the Emigrants asserted their opposing claims, and with success, having brought into the town a considerable number of outside Moslems, so as to terrorize the men of Medina, who besides were still divided into two parties. The Emigrants’ leading spirit was Omar; he did not, however, cause homage to be paid to himself but to Abùbekr, the friend and father-in-law of the Prophet.

The affair would not have gone on so smoothly, had not the opportune defection of the Arabians put a stop to the inward schism which threatened. Islam suddenly found itself once more limited to the community of Medina; only Mecca and T<4if remained true. The Bedouins were willing enough to pray, indeed, but less willing to pay taxes; their defection, as might have been expected, was a political movement. None the less was it a revolt from Islam, for here the political society and the religious are identical. A peculiar compliment to Mohammed was involved in the fact that the leaders of the rebellion in the various districts did not pose as princes and kings, but as prophets; in this the secret of Islam’s success appeared to lie.

Abùbekr proved himself quite equal to the perilous situation. In the first place, he allowed the expedition against the Greeks, already arranged by Mohammed, quietly to set out, limiting himself for the time to the defence of Medina. On the return of the army he proceeded to attack the rebels. The holy spirit of Islam kept the men of Medina together, and inflamed them to a death-defying zeal for the faith; while, on the other side, the Arabs as a whole had no other bond of union and no better source of inspiration than universal egoism. As was to be expected, they were worsted; eleven small flying columns of the Moslems, sent out in various directions, sufficed to quell the revolt. Those who submitted were forthwith received back into favour; those who persevered in rebellion were punished with death. The majority accordingly converted, the obstinate were extirpated. In Yamâma only was there a severe struggle; the Banù Hanifa under their prophet Mosailima fought bravely, but here also Islam triumphed.

The internal consolidation of Islam in Arabia was, strange to say, brought about by its diffusion abroad. The holy war against the border countries which Mohammed had already inaugurated, was the best means for making the new religion popular among the Arabs; for, in spreading by means of the sword the worship of Allah, opportunity was at the same time afforded for gaining rich booty. This vast movement was organized by Islam, but the masses were induced to join it by quite other than religious motives. Nor was this by any means the first occasion on which the Arabian caldron had overflowed; once and again in former times emigrant swarms of Bedouins had settled on the borders of the wilderness. This had last happened in consequence of the events which destroyed the prosperity of the old Sabaean kingdom. At that time the small Arabian kingdoms of Ghassân and Hira had arisen in the western and eastern borderlands of cultivation; these now presented to Moslem conquest its nearest and natural goal. But inasmuch as Hira was subject to the Persians, and Eastern Palestine to the Greeks, the annexation of the Arabians involved the extension of the war beyond the limits of Arabia to a struggle with the two great powers.

After the subjugation of Middle and North-Eastern Arabia, Khâlid b. al-Walid proceeded by order of the Caliph to the conquest of the districts on the lower Euphrates. Thence he was summoned to Syria, where hostilities had also broken out. Damascus fell late in the summer of 635, and on 20th August 636 the great decisive battle on the Hieromax (Yarmùk) was fought, which caused the Emperor Heraclius finally to abandon Syria. Left to themselves, the Christians henceforward defended themselves only in isolated cases in the fortified cities; for the most part they witnessed the disappearance of the Byzantine power without regret. Meanwhile the war was also carried on against the Persians in Trâk, unsuccessfully at first, until the tide turned at the battle of Kâdisiya (end of 637). In consequence of the defeat which they here sustained, the Persians were forced to abandon the western portion of their empire and limit themselves to Eran proper. The Moslems made themselves masters of Ctesiphon (Madâin), the residence of the Sasanides on the Tigris, and conquered in the immediately following years the country of the two rivers. In 639 the armies of Syria and 'Irâk were face to face in Mesopotamia. In a short time they had taken from the Aryans all the principal old Semitic lands,—Palestine, Syria, Mesopotamia, Assyria, and Babylonia. To these was soon added Egypt, which 'Amr b. al-'As, aided by the national and confessional antipathies of the Copts towards the Greeks, overran with little trouble in 641. This completed the circle of the lands bordering on the wilderness of Arabia: within these limits annexation was practicable and natural, a repetition indeed of what had often previously occurred. The kingdoms of Ghassân and Hira, advanced posts hitherto, now became the headquarters of the Arabs; the new empire had its centres on the one hand at Damascus, on the other hand at Cufa and Basra, the two newly-founded cities in the region of old Babylonia. The capital of Islam continued indeed for a while to be Medina, but soon the Hijaz and the whole of Arabia proper lay quite on the outskirt of affairs.

It is striking to notice how easily the native populations of the conquered districts, exclusively or prevailingly Christian, adapted themselves to the new rule. Their nationality had been broken long ago, but intrinsically it was more closely allied to the Arabian than to the Greek or Persian. Their religious sympathy with the West was seriously impaired by dogmatic controversies; from Islam they might at any rate hope for toleration, even though their views were not in accordance with the theology of the Emperor of the day. The lapse of the masses from Christendom to Islam, however, which took place during the first century after the conquest, is only to be accounted for by the fact that in reality they had no inward relation to the gospel at all. They changed their creed in order to acquire the rights and privileges of Moslem citizens. In no case were they compelled to do so; on the contrary, the Omayyad Caliphs saw with displeasure the diminishing proceeds of the poll-tax derived from their Christian subjects.

It would have been a great advantage for the solidity of the Arabian empire if it had confined itself within the limits of those old Semitic lands, with perhaps the addition of Egypt. But the Persians were not so ready as the Greeks to give up the contest; they did not rest until the Moslems had subjugated the whole of the Sasanid empire. The most important event in the protracted war which led to the conquest of Eran, was the battle of Nehâwend in 641; the most obstinate resistance was offered by Persis proper, and especially by the capital, Istakhr (Persepolis). In the end, all the numerous and somewhat autonomous provinces of the Sasanid empire fell, one after the other, into the hands of the Moslems, and the young Shahanshah, Yezdegerd, was compelled to retire to the farthest corner of his realm, where he came to a miserable end. But in more than one case the work of conquest had to be done over again: it was long before the Eranians learned to accept the situation. Unlike the Christians of Western Asia, they had a vigorous feeling of national pride, based upon glorious memories and especially upon a church having a connexion of the closest kind with the state. Internal disturbances of a religious and political character and external disasters had long ago shattered the empire of the Sasanids indeed, but the Eranians had not yet lost their patriotism. They were fighting, in fact, against the despised and hated Arabs, in defence of their holiest possessions, their nationality, and their faith. They were subjugated, but their subjection was only outward. The commonwealth of Islam never succeeded in assimilating them as the Syrian Christians were assimilated. Even when in process of time they did accept the religion of the Prophet, they leavened it thoroughly with their own peculiar leaven, and, especially, deprived it of the practical political and national character which it had assumed after the Flight to Medina. To the Arabian state they were always a thorn in the flesh, it was they who helped most largely to break up its internal order, and it was from them also that it at last received its outward deathblow.

Tho fall of the Omayyads was their work, and with the Omayyads fell the Arabian empire. The course of Islam’s political history during its first centuries is denoted by the removal of the capital from Damascus to Cufa, and from Cufa to Baghdad, the latter occupying, approximately, the site of the ancient Ctesiphon.

But we must return to the period of Abιibekr. He died after a short reign, on 22d August 634, and as matter of course was succeeded by Omar. To Omar’s ten years’ Caliphate belong for the most part the great conquests. He himself did not take the field, but remained in Medina; he never, however, suffered the reins to slip from his grasp, so powerful was the influence of his personality and the Moslem community of feeling. His political insight is shown by the circumstance that he endeavoured to limit the indefinite extension of Moslem conquest, and to maintain and strengthen the national Arabian character of the commonwealth of Islam; also by his making it his foremost task to promote law and order in its internal affairs. The saying with which he began his reign will never grow antiquated: “By God, he that is weakest among you shall be in my sight the strongest, until I have vindicated for him his rights; but him that is strongest will I treat as the weakest, until he complies with the laws.” It would be impossible to give a better general definition of the function of the State. After the administration of justice he directed his organizing activity, as the circumstances demanded, chiefly towards financial questions—theincidence of taxation in the conquered territories, and the application of the vast resources which poured into the treasury at Medina. It must not be brought against him as a personal reproach, that in dealing with these he acted on the principle that the Moslems were the chartered plunderers of all the rest of the world. But he had to atone by his death for the fault of his system; a workman at Cufa, driven to desperation by absurd fiscal oppressions, stabbed him in the mosque at Medina. He died in the beginning of November 644.

Before his death Omar had nominated six of the leading Emigrants who should choose the Caliph from among themselves—Othmân, ‘Ali, Zobair, Talha, Sa'd b. Abi Wakkâs, and 'Abd al-Rahmân b. 'Auf. The last named declined to be candidate, and decided the election in favour of Othmân b. 'Affân. Under this weak sovereign the government of Islam fell entirely into the hands of the Koraish nobility. We have already seen that Mohammed himself prepared the way for this transference; Abùbekr and Omar likewise helped it; the Emigrants were unanimous among themselves in thinking that the precedence and leadership belonged to them as of right. Thanks to the energy of Omar, they were successful in appropriating to themselves the succession to the Prophet. They indeed rested the claims they put forward in the undeniable priority of their services to the faith, but they also appealed to their blood relationship with the Prophet, as a legitimation of their right to the inheritance; and the ties of blood connected them with the Koraish in general. In point of fact they felt a greater solidarity with these than, for example, with the natives of Medina; nature had not been expelled by faith. The supremacy of the Emigrants naturally furnished the means of transition to the supremacy of the

Meccan aristocracy. Othmân did all in his power to press forward this development of affairs. He belonged to the foremost family of Mecca, the Omayyads, and that he should favour his relations and the Koraish as a whole, in every possible way, seemed to him a matter of course’ Every position of influence and emolument was assigned to them; they themselves boastingly called the important province of 'Irâk the garden of Koraish. In truth, the entire empire had become that garden. Nor was it unreasonable that from the secularization of Islam the chief advantage should be reaped by those who best knew the world. Such were beyond all doubt the patricians of Mecca, and after them those of Tâif, people like Khâlid b. al-Walid, 'Amr b. al-'Âs, 'Abdallâh b. Abi Sarh, Moghira b. Sho'ba, and, above all, old Abιi Sofyân with his son Mo'âwiya, the governor of Syria.

Against the rising tide of worldliness an opposition, however, now began to appear. It was led by what may be called the spiritual noblesse of Islam, which, as distinguished from the hereditary nobility of Mecca, might also be designated as the nobility of merit, consisting of the “Defenders,” and especially of the Emigrants who had lent themselves to the elevation of the Koraish, but by no means with the intention of allowing themselves to be thereby effaced. The opposition was headed by 'Ali, Zobair, Talha, both as leading men among the Emigrants and as disappointed candidates for the Caliphate, who therefore were jealous of Othmân. Their motives were purely selfish; not God’s cause but their own, not religion but power and preferment, were what they sought. Their party was a mixed one. To it belonged the men of real piety, who saw with displeasure the promotion to the first places in the commonwealth of the great lords who had actually done nothing for Islam, and had joined themselves to it only at the twelfth hour, while those who had borne the burden and heat of the day were passed by. But the majority were merely a band of men without views, whose aim was not a change of system but of persons, that they themselves might fatten in the vacant places. Everywhere in the provinces there was agitation against the Caliph and his governors, except in Syria, where Othmân’s cousin, Mo'âwiya b. Abi Sofyân, carried on a wise and strong administration. The movement was most energetic in 'Irâk and in Egypt. Its ultimate aim was the deposition of Othmân in favour of 'All, whose own services as well as his close relationship to the Prophet seemed to give him the best claim to the Caliphate. Even then there were enthusiasts who held him to be a sort of Messiah.

The malcontents sought to gain their end by force. In bands they came from the provinces to Medina to concuss Othmân into concession of their demands. From the Indus and Oxus to the Atlantic the world was trembling before the armies of the Caliph, but in Medina he had no troops at hand. He propitiated the mutineers by concessions, but as soon as they had gone, he let matters resume their old course. Thus things went on from worse to worse. In the following year (656) the leaders of the rebels came once more from Egypt and 'Irâk to Medina with a more numerous following; and the Caliph again tried his former plan of making promises which he did not intend to keep. But the rebels caught him in a flagrant breach of his word, and now demanded his abdication, besieging him in his own house, where he was defended by a few faithful subjects. As he would not yield, they at last took the building by storm and put him to death, an old man of eighty. His death in the act of maintaining his rights was of the greatest service to his house and of corresponding disadvantage to the enemy.

Controversy now arose among the leaders of the opposition as to the inheritance. The mass of the mutineers summoned 'Ali to the Caliphate, and compelled even Talha and Zobair to do him homage. But soon these two, along with 'Aisha, the mother of the faithful, who had an old grudge against 'Ali, succeeded in making their escape to 'Irâk, where at Basra they raised the standard of rebellion. 'Ali in point of fact had no real right to the succession, and moreover was actuated not by piety but by ambition and the desire of power, so that men of penetration, even although they condemned Othmân’s method of government, yet refused to recognize his successor. The new Caliph, however, found means of disposing of their opposition, and at the battle of the Camel, fought at Basra in November 656, Talha and Zobair were slain, and 'Aisha was taken prisoner.

But even so 'All had not secured peace. With the murder of Othmân the dynastic principle gained the twofold advantage of a legitimate cry—that of vengeance for the blood of the gray-haired Caliph, and of a distinguished champion, the Syrian governor Mo'âwiya. Mo'âwiya was not inclined to recognize 'Ali, and the latter did not venture to depose him. To have done so would have been useless, for Mo'âwiya’s position in Syria was impregnable. The kernel of his subjects consisted of genuine Arabs, not only recent immigrants along with Islam, but also old settlers who, through contact with the Roman empire and the Christian church, had taken on a measure of civilization. Through the Ghassânids these latter had become habituated to monarchical government and loyal obedience, and for a long time muoh better order had prevailed amongst them than elsewhere in Arabia. Syria was the proper soil for the rise of an Arabian kingdom, and Mo'âwiya was just the man to make use of the situation. He exhibited Othmân’s blood-stained garment in the mosque at Damascus, and incited his Syrians to vengeance.

'All’s position in Cufa was much less advantageous. The population of 'Irâk was already mixed up with Persian elements; it fluctuated greatly, and was largely composed of fresh immigrants. Islam had its headquarters here; Cufa and Basra were the home of the pious and of the adventurer, the centres of religious and political movement. This movement it was that had raised 'AH to the Caliphate, but yet it did not really take any personal interest in him. Religion proved for him a much less trustworthy and more dangerous support than did the conservative and secular feeling of Syria for the Omayyads. Mo'âwiya could either act or refrain from acting as he chose, secure in either case of the obedience of his subjects. 'AH, on the other hand, was unable to convert enthusiasm for the principle inscribed on his banner into enthusiasm for his person. It was necessary that he should accommodate himself to the wishes of his supporters, and at the same time it was impossible, for these wishes were inconsistent. They compelled him suddenly to break off the battle of Siffin, which he was on the point of gaining over Mo'âwiya, because the Syrians fastened copies of the Koran to their lances to denote that not the sword but the word of God should decide the contest (end of July 657). But in yielding to the will of the majority he excited the displeasure of the minority, the genuine zealots, who in Mo'âwiya were opposing the enemy of Islam, and who regarded 'AH’s entering into negotiations with him as a denial of the faith. When the negotiations failed and war was resumed, the Khârijites refused to follow 'AH’s army, and he had to turn his arms in the first instance against them. He succeeded in disposing of them without difficulty, but in his success he lost the soul of his following. For they were the true champions of the theocratic principle; through their elimination it became clear that the struggle had in no sense anything to do with the cause of God. 'AH’s defeat was a foregone conclusion, once religious enthusiasm had failed him; the secular resources at the disposal of his adversaries were far superior. Fortunately for him he was murdered (end of January 661), thereby posthumously attaining an importance in the eyes of a large part of the Mohammedan world (Shi'a) which he had never possessed during his life. His son Hasan made peace with Mo'âwiya.

The Khârijites are the most interesting feature of the then phase of Islam. In the name of religion they raised their protest against allowing the whole great spiritual movement to issue in a secular and political result, in the establishment within the conquered territories of an Arabian kingdom, a kingdom which diametrically contradicted the theocratic ideal. Islam was then on the point of making its peace with the world, not without a certain apostasy from its original principles, for which Mohammed himself had paved the way. Life was no more dominated by religion, but came to terms with it and parted company. This development was favoured by the government, which desired before all things to have peace. Orthodoxy arose, and thereby religion was tamed and divested of every dangerous element; strictly speaking, it became a compromise, according to which the letter of the precept was correctly followed, in order that, in everything besides, a man might obey his own inclinations. The conditions under which any one might make sure of heaven were—on the one hand, the performance of “good works,” i.e. of such opera operanda as had a special churchly merit assigned to them; on the other hand, faith in the absolute sovereignty of God even over the wills of men. About morals God showed little concern—the usual view of orthodox shamanism. This was by no means the original standpoint of Islam, although the transition to it was made at an early stage, and by the Prophet himself. Originally Islam— i.e. religious resignation—was only the complement of pious effort; a man set himself about even the hardest and apparently purposeless tasks, because he believed the issue to lie entirely in the hand of God. But now all this was reversed; a man acted according to his humour, because his destiny had nothing to do with his inherent qualities, but was dependent entirely on Allâh’s caprice. The Khârijites protested not merely against the dynastic principle and the rule of the Omayyads, but also against orthodoxy; they disputed the doctrine of predestination and the proposition that a great sinner could yet be a good Moslem, because they did not understand how to divorce religion from practice. To some degree they call to mind the Montanists, but their opposition was much more energetic in its expression. Sources.— For the history of Mohammed these are—(1) the Koran; (2) the theologico-historical tradition or Hadith. The latter is chronologically arranged in the biographies, of which those of Ibn Ishak and of Wâkidi are the oldest and most important. Ibn Ishak’s work in its complete form is now to be found only in Ibn Hishâm’s revision (ecl. Wüstenfeld), but large and numerous fragments of the original are given by Tabari (ed. De Jong). Of Wakidi the Kitab al-Maghâzi, i.e. the history of Mohammed in Medina, is still extant (abridged German translation by Wellhausen, 1882); his collections for the earlier period are known to us through the work of Ibn Sa ’ d his secretary (Tabakdt, unedited). The Hadith is set forth more systematically, according to subjects, in the great collections of tradition by Malik b. Anas, Bokhan', Moslim, etc. (Bûlâk editions). A subsidiary authority is the humanistic tradition of the Odabâ, with which the poetry may be reckoned. The principal collections of this class are the Kitâb al-Aghàni (Bulak edition) and the Kâmil (ed. Wright). For the period after Mohammed the most important work is the Chronicle of Tabari (Leyden edition); the history of the conquest is treated briefly after the best authorities by Beladhori (ed. De Goeje, 1866).

Literature. — The genuine tradition of the Arabs with reference to their prophet was first introduced into Europe by the French, beginning with Gagnier and ending with the valuable work of Caussin de Perceval. λVeil and, after him, Noldeke especially, have the merit of having shown how to use the Koran in conjunction with the Arab tradition as a main source. Of modern biographies the most important are those of Muir and Sprenger; research has not yet got beyond them, although there is room for this. For the history of the Caliphs, the standard book is still the well-known work of Weil, although since it was published considerable additions have been made to our knowledge of the sources, thanks specially to the labours of Dozy, De Goeje, and other Dutchmen. Hitherto the main object has been to bring together the materials in this department of research, and a comprehensive treatment of the entire subject has not as yet been accomplished; still reference may be made in this connection to Dozy {Histoire de Γ Islamisme), and A. von Kremer {Gesch. der herrschenden Ideen d. Islam, and Kulturgeschichte d. Orients unter den Khalifen). (J. WE. )

PART II.—THE EASTERN CALIPHATE.

Sect. I.— The Omayyads.

1. In commencing the history of the Omayyad dynasty we must first recur to the causes which brought about the triumph of this family, and which led its chief to substitute Damascus for Medina as the seat of the Caliphate; an event which led to profound changes in the Moslem empire, and exercised a considerable influence on its development. In the same way, at a later date, the transfer of the Caliphate from Damascus to Baghdad marked the accession of a new family to the supreme power, and gave Islam a new direction.

In the time of Mohammed, the Arabs were divided into an infinite number of tribes, some settled, others nomadic, which were constantly at war with each other. The Prophet united them into one body, but he could not entirely eradicate the hatred which had existed for ages between tribe and tribe. Thus the people of Mecca and those of Medina hated each other, because the former were a branch of the race of Ma'add, the great ancestor of the tribes of the North; while the latter belonged to the Yemenite race, or that of the South. The conquest of Mecca by Mohammed and his allies of Medina only exasperated this hatred, and the nobles of the Koraish swore to take revenge on the Yemenites, as soon as they should be able to do so. One of the most violent opponents of the Prophet had been, as we have seen, the father of that very Mo'âwiya who founded the Omayyad dynasty, Abù Sofyân, grandson of Omayya, the leader of the Meccans in the battle at Ohod; and it is related that his wife Hind, having found Hamza, Mohammed’s uncle, among the dead, cut open his body, and tore out and devoured his liver. We have also seen how Abù Sofyân ultimately made his submission and embraced Islam, but only under compulsion. His son Mo'âwiya became, it is true, one of Mohammed’s secretaries; but we know that his faith was never very strong, and that he always made his religion subordinate to the interests of his family. Even in his youth, he had conceived the project of recovering the supreme power for his own race, and it has been related above how the inner conflicts of Islam under the Caliphates of Othmân and 'AH carried him forwards towards this goal.

Mo'âwiya might, no doubt, have marched to the help of Othmân with an army of Syrians; but the preservation of the Caliph, his relative, would not have served the purposes of his burning ambition, and we may say without hesitation that it was with secret joy that the prefect of Damascus heard of the fatal result of the plot against Othmân. The Syrians were entirely devoted to Mo'âwiya. Polite, amiable, and generous, he had gained the goodwill of all the Arabs of Syria, for whom Islam had remained a dead letter, and who, continuing Bedouins at heart, shared the feelings of their chief against the new aristocracy of Medina. Consequently, when 'All, 'Othmân’s successor, summoned Mo'âwiya for the last time to acknowledge him, and when Mo'âwiya, assembling his partisans in the mosque of Damascus, asked their advice, they replied that it was his part to command, and theirs to obey and to act. The enthusiasm of the Syrians was great; and Mo'âwiya having ordered a levy en masse, within three days every able-bodied man had joined his standard. Syria alone supplied Mo'âwiya with more troops than all the rest of the provinces put together furnished to 'Ali, who is said to have addressed his soldiers with these bitter words: “I would gladly exchange ten of you for one of Mo'âwiya’s soldiers.” Then he added—in allusion to the savage action of Hind, Mo'âwiya’s mother, on the field of battle at Ohod—“By God! he will gain the victory, this son of the liver-eater !”

'All’s gloomy anticipations were fulfilled; but it was by stratagem that Mo'âwiya gained his victory. The battle of Sifl - ln, the abortive negotiations that followed, and the withdrawal of the Khârijites, have been already spoken of. The negotiations ended in the conference of Dûmat al-Jandal, a small place situated between Syria and 'Irâk, about seven days’ journey from Damascus and thirteen from Medina. Here in Ramadan, a.h. 37 (a.d. 657-658), Abù Mùsâ and 'Amr b. al-'As (the famous conqueror of Egypt) appeared as arbitrators for 'AH and Mo'âwiya respectively, and the cunning of the latter induced Abù Mùsâ to pronounce both prétendants deprived of whatever rights either might have to the Caliphate, and to say that it now rested with the Moslems to make a new choice. 'Amr, who was only waiting for this declaration, rose in his· turn, and said to the Arabs who were crowding round the platform: “O people, ye hear what Abù Müsâ says. He himself renounces the claims of his master. I also agree to the deprivation of 'Ali, but I proclaim my master Mo'âwiya Caliph.” Abù Mùsâ cried out against this treachery, but no one would listen to him, and he fled for refuge to Mecca, where he ultimately recognised the claims of Mo'âwiya, even in 'All’s lifetime. This event marks the commencement of the Omayyad dynasty. ‘Amr went in triumph to Damascus, where the Syrians took the oath of fidelity to Mo'âwiya.

In 'Irâk, on the other hand, with the exception of the Khârijites, all the people remained faithful to the cause of 'AH, who, mounting the pulpit at Cufa, summoned his army to the field, and fixed their rendezvous at Nokhaila, a small place not far from the city. The Khârijites had taken refuge at Nahrowân, and 'AH found it necessary to attack them there, before marching against the Syrians. At his arrival most of the rebels dispersed, except from fifteen to eighteen hundred fanatics, who remained at their post and allowed themselves to be slaughtered to the last man. Thus rid of the Khârijites, 'AH meant to direct his march towards Syria, but his soldiers refused to move, and declared their intention of first taking some rest at Cufa. Compelled to inaction, 'All returned to Cufa, while Mo'âwiya gave his attention to securing the possession of the provinces. At the beginning of a.h. 38 (a.d. 658-659), Egypt was lost to ‘Alt 'Amr b. al-'Âs was sent thither by Mo'âwiya, and marched without delay, at the head of five thousand men, against 'All’s vicegerent, Mohammed, son of the late Caliph, Abubekr. The brave general Ashtar, whom 'AH sent to the help of Mohammed, was poisoned at Kolzom by the prefect of that place, acting under secret orders from Mo'âwiya, and 'All’s troops retraced their steps. Meanwhile, in Egypt itself, a partisan of the Omayyads, Mo'âwiya b. Hodaij, who was at the head of six thousand fighting men, had declared against Mohammed, and driven him from Fostât. On his arrival in Egypt, 'Amr effected a junction with Mo'âwiya b. Hodaij, and the unfortunate Mohammed, beaten by his adversaries, fell into the hands of Ibn Hodaij, who put him to death.

While Egypt was thus being lost to 'AH, commotions were excited at Basra itself by a partisan of the Omayyads. These were, however, put down by the governor of that city, Ziyâd. This man was Mo'âwiya’s own brother, but illegitimate, and not having been acknowledged by his father, Abù Sofyân, he had revenged himself by embracing the party of 'AH. Ziyâd was renowned among the Arabs for his eloquence, his resolution, and his courage. At a later period, Mo'âwiya gained him over to his cause by publicly acknowledging him as his brother. At the time we speak of, he was a faithful servant of 'AH, and as soon as the revolt of Basra was put down, he marched into Fârsistân, where he maintained peace and kept the inhabitants in their allegiance. Meanwhile, however, the other provinces were falling one after the other under the power of Mo'âwiya. His generals penetrated into the heart of Chaldaea; and even in Arabia, where 'AH’s generals had at first gained some advantages, Bosr b. Artah obtained possession of Medina a.h. 40 (a.d. 660-661), and compelled its inhabitants to acknowledge Mo'âwiya. After this he marched upon Mecca, expelled Kotham, 'AH’s governor, and there also exacted an oath of obedience to his master. Following up his successes, Bosr did not hesitate to press southward, and soon gained possession of Yemen. 'AH was now no longer master of anything but 'Irâk and a part of Persia, and even of these provinces the former was menaced by the Syrians, as we have seen. Taking advantage of some partial successes gained by his forces in Arabia and in Syria, 'AH made overtures for peace, but they were rejected. Mo'âwiya believed himself too sure of ultimate success to be willing to share the empire.

It was then that three men of the Khârijites conceived the project of delivering Islam from those who were desolating it with fire and blood. 'Abd al-Rahmân b. Moljam, Boraik b. 'Abdallâh, and 'Amr b. Bekr agreed that on the very same day the first should kill 'AH at Cufa, the second Mo'âwiya at Damascus, and the third 'Amr b. al-'As at Fostât. They fixed on Friday the 15th of Ramadân, a.h. 40, when they were sure of finding their victims at the mosque. The plot was put in execution, but 'AH • alone fell. On the appointed day, Boraik made his way into the mosque of Damascus, and stabbed Mo'âwiya in the back with his sword. Before he could repeat the blow he was seized, and Mo'âwiya recovered from his wound. As for 'Amr, he had been kept at home by illness; his place at the mosque was taken by Khârija, the chief of his guards; and it was he who fell beneath the blows of 'Amr b. Bekr. 'Abd al-Rahmân was more successful. As 'AH was entering the mosque, he dealt him a blow on the head with his sword, and stretched him on the ground mortally wounded. Two days later 'AH died, and the assassin was put to death with horrible torments.

'All left two sons, Hasan and Hosain. The people of 'Irâk chose Hasan Caliph. But he, not having his father’s energy, recoiled before the prospect of a war with Mo'âwiya. Though he had an army of forty thousand men at his disposal, he preferred to renounce the Caliphate. Besides, one of his generals, Kais b. Sa'd, who had urged him to continue the struggle, and had himself tried the chance of arms, had just been beaten by the Syrians. In consequence of this defeat, a mutiny had broken out in Hasan’s army. He abdicated, and only demanded, in exchange for the power which he resigned, pardon for his relatives and a yearly pension of five millions of dirhems, together with the revenues of the Persian city of Dârâb-gird. A treaty to this effect was concluded between Mo'âwiya and Hasan, in spite of the opposition of Hosain, who exhorted his brother to continue the struggle; and Mo'âwiya entered Cufa at the head of his army, according to some authorities towards the end of the month of Rabi' I., a.h. 41 (July, a.d. 661), according to others a month or two later. Hasan retired to Medina, where he died eight or nine years afterwards, poisoned, it is said, by order of the Caliph.

Mo'âwiya, who now remained sole master of the Moslem empire, was, however, not yet universally acknowledged. Five thousand Khârijites made head against him in the province of Ahwâz, the ancient Susiana, and a revolt broke out at Basra. Ziyâd himself, Mo'âwiya’s brother, refused to take the oath to him, and fortified himself at Istakhr, the ancient Persepolis. The revolt at Basra was put down by Bosr b. Artâh, and Moghira b. Sho'ba, whom Mo'âwiya had named prefect of Cufa, accepted the task of bringing about a reconciliation with Ziyâd. Ziyâd refused to take the oath of allegiance only because he feared being called to account for certain sums of money which were missing from the public treasury of Persia. Mo'âwiya promised to shut his eyes to these irregularities; and Ziyâd came to Damascus and was very well received by the Caliph, who hastened to adopt the bastard as his brother, to the great scandal of all pious Moslems. After acknowledging Ziyâd, who thus became Ziyâd son of Abù Sofyân, Mo'âwiya entrusted him with the government of Basra and of Persia, and afterwards with that of Cufa, when Moghira b. Sho'ba died. Ziyâd governed 'Irâk with the greatest vigour, to the full satisfaction of Mo'âwiya, who further placed the whole of Arabia under his authority; but in that same year, a.h. 53 (a.d. 672-673), Ziyâd died. It seems that Mo'âwiya had thought of him as his successor in the Caliphate. After Ziyâd’s death, the Caliph wished to secure the throne for his own son Yazid. This was a new violation of the customary rights of Islam ; for Mohammed, whose actions served as a rule, had not in his lifetime appointed any one as his successor. Mo'âwiya, who was a statesman above everything, and who held religion very cheap when it interfered with his objects, did not hesitate to create a precedent. He met, however, at first with vigorous opposition, and it was not till some years later that he ventured to have his intentions publicly announced from the pulpit. In Syria the people took the oath of allegiance to Yazid; in Arabia and 'Irâk public opinion declared itself against the step which Mo'âwiya had taken.

The Caliph was not moved; threats prevailed over the obstinacy of the people of 'Irâk, and Mo'àwiya repaired to Arabia in· person, at the head of an army, to intimidate the inhabitants of Mecca and Medina. As may be supposed, the principal fomenters of the resistance in Arabia were the sons of the first Caliphs, ‘Abd al-Rahmân the son of Abùbekr, 'Abdallâh the son of Omar, and Hosain the son of ‘AH ; for, by submitting, they would have renounced all hope of being themselves chosen by the people. Another 'Abdallâh, son of that Zobair who had been among the six candidates nominated at the death of Omar for the choice of the Moslems, was also one of the warmest opponents of the pretensions of Mo'àwiya. All the efforts of the Caliph to win over these personages to his side having proved vain, he ordered them to be brought into the mosque at Mecca, each between two soldiers; then, having mounted the pulpit, he called on the bystanders to take the oath of allegiance to his son; adding that 'Abd al-Rahmân, Hosain, and the two 'Abdallâhs would raise no objection. They, in their terror, did not utter a word, and the assembly took the oath. Then Mo'àwiya, without concerning himself further about the malcontents, returned to Damascus.

While thus occupied at home, Mo'àwiya did not neglect foreign affairs. 'Amr b. al-'As, governor of Egypt, died A.H. 43 (a.d. 663-664), and was followed by several prefects in succession, under one of whom the general Mo'àwiya b. Hodaij undertook several expeditions into the province of Africa. In the year 50 (a.d. 670) he advanced as far as Camunia, now Sùsa, near which city he laid the foundations of the celebrated Kairawân, and even went on to Sabaratha, a town situated near the seashore, and opposite to the island of C’rina. The emperor, Constantine IV., had sent thither thirty thousand Greeks, who were beaten and compelled to re-embark in haste. Mo'àwiya b. Hodaij returned to Egypt after his victory, and the Caliph now considered the position of the Moslems in Africa so strong, that he separated that province from Egypt, and appointed as governor of Africa 'Okba b. N<4fi', who permanently established Kairawân, in a plain situated at a little distance from the first encampment of Mo'àwiya b. Hodaij. According to some historians, the new city was completed a.h. 55 (a.d. 674-675).

In the East the successes of the Moslems were still more brilliant. Ziyâd, brother of Mo'àwiya, as soon as he was appointed governor of 'Irâk and Persia, seYιt an army into Khorâsân. It advanced as far as the Oxus, crossed that river, and returned loaded with booty taken from the wandering Turkish tribes of Transoxiana. Bokhârâ was occupied by a son of Ziyâd, and Sa'd, son of the Caliph 'Othmân, whom Mo'àwiya had made governor of Khorâsân, marched against Samarkand, a.h. 56 (a.d. 675-676). Other generals penetrated as far as the Indus, and overran and conquered Mùltân, Kâbûlistân, Mokrân, and Sijistân.

In the North the Moslems were not less fortunate in their attacks on the Byzantine empire. Mo'àwiya, while still only governor of Syria, had gained possession of Armenia, and had sent a fleet against Cyprus, which, in conjunction with that of the governor of Egypt, had effected the conquest of that island. Encouraged by the result of this expedition, he gave the order for new incursions in the Mediterranean. His fleet of twelve hundred vessels invested the islands of Cos, Crete, and Rhodes. The famous Colossus of Rhodes was broken to pieces, and it is said that the bronze of which it was made was bought by a Jew of Emesa, ând formed a load for nine hundred and eighty camels. The Arabs even dared to threaten Constantinople, which owed its safety only to the Greek fire. Yazid, the son of Mo'àwiya, took part in these expeditions, but with no great ardour, and in the year 58 (a.d. 677-678) Mo'àwiya concluded a thirty years’ peace with Constantine IV. Two years later, he died at Damascus, after a reign of nearly twenty years. He had been governor of Syria for the same length of time. Before his death, he sent for his son Yazid, and having pointed out how he had smoothed down all difficulties for him, he advised him to spare no effort to preserve the attachment of the Syrians. He urged him also to keep a close watch on the actions of Hosain b. 'AH, and of the other pretenders who had refused to take the oath of allegiance to him; but he added that, should they rebel, Yazid ought to treat them with clemency, and not to forget their illustrious origin. By failing to act upon this wise advice, Yazid rendered irreconcilable that formidable schism which, even at the present day, still divides the Moslem world, and which, at all periods, has been a source of calamity to Islam.

2. Yazid had not his father’s genius. Passionately fond of pleasure, and careless about religion, he bestowed more care on turning a pretty couplet than on consolidating the strength of his empire. During his short reign he committed three actions for which Moslems never pardoned his memory: the murder of Hosain, son of 'AH and grandson of the Prophet; the pillage of Medina; and the taking of the Ka'ba, the venerated temple of Mecca; crimes which were not redeemed in the eyes of the people by a few fortunate expeditions on the part of his generals.

Immediately on ascending the throne, in the month Rajab a.h. 60 (April, a.d. 680), Yazid sent a circular to all his prefects, with an official announcement of his father’s death, and an order to administer the oath of allegiance to their respective subjects. In particular, he charged the new prefect whom he appointed to Medina, his own cousin Walid b. 'Otba, to strike off the heads of Hosain son of 'AH, 'Abd al-Rahmân son of Abùbekr, 'Abdallâh son of Omar, and 'Abdallâh son of Zobair, if they again refused to acknowledge him. Terrified at such a commission, Walid did not dare to act with rigour against Hosain and 'Abdallâh b. Zobair, both of whom refused to take the oath, but allowed them to escape to Mecca. Yazid immediately deprived him of his office, and appointed in his place 'Amr b. Sa'id, already governor of Mecca. Once in the Holy City, 'Abdallâh b. Zobair thought himself in such perfect safety that he began to intrigue with the Meccans to have himself proclaimed Caliph in Arabia. At Cufa the news of the flight of Hosain produced great agitation among the partisans of the family of 'AH, who were numerous there, and they sent several addresses to the grandson of the Prophet, inviting him to take refuge with them, and promising to have him proclaimed Caliph in 'Irâk. Hosain, who knew the fickleness of the people of 'Irâk, hesitated to yield to their entreaties; but Ibn Zobair, who was desirous to get rid at all costs of so formidable a rival, persuaded him that he ought to go and put himself at the head of the people of 'Irâk, and enter on an open struggle with Yazid. Hosain began by sending his cousin Moslim b. 'Akil to Cufa, and from him he learned that many of the inhabitants of that city appeared really decided to support him. The prefect of Cufa, No'mân b. Bashir, though apprised of these proceedings, did not choose to make them known to Yazid, as he was reluctant to act with severity against a descendant of the Prophet. Information, however, reached the Caliph, who deprived No'mân of his office, and ordered Obaid Allâh, son of the famous Ziyâd, and then governor of Basra, to give up his post there to his brother Othmân, and to repair in person to Cufa, in order to watch the partisans of 'Ali in that city. Obaid Allâh obeyed, entered Cufa, and, ascending the pulpit the very day after his arrival, publicly announced his firm intention of putting to death any one who should rebel. Moslim b. 'Akil was given up by a traitor and executed. Meanwhile Hosain, on receiving his cousin’s despatches, had already set out from Mecca with all his family, and had reached Kâdisiya (a place situated only fifteen parasangs from Cufa, and noted for the defeat sustained there by the Persians during the Caliphate of Omar), when he received the news of these vexatious occurrences. He wished to retrace his steps immediately, but the friends of Moslim dissuaded him from doing so, crying out for revenge, and representing to him that doubtless he had only to show himself under the walls of Cufa to be received with enthusiasm by its inhabitants. Hosain accordingly pursued his journey towards Cufa. But Obaid Allâh, who was watching all his movements, sent four thousand horsemen, devoted to the Omayyad cause, to meet him, with orders to bring Hosain before him either alive or dead. The commander of these horsemen was Omar b. Sa'd, to whom Obaid Allâh had promised the government of Media as a reward, if his expedition should succeed. The Omayyads met Hosain in the plain of Kerbelâ, opposite to Cufa, before he had reached the Euphrates, and surrounded him. Omar b. Sa'd himself sought out Hosain and summoned him to surrender. Hosain declared himself ready to renounce his pretensions, provided he were allowed to return to Mecca with his followers, or were even sent to Damascus. When Obaid Allâh was informed of this proposal, he simply repeated his former order to bring Hosain to Cufa, dead or alive; and, fearing the defection of Omar b. Sa'd, he sent out another troop of horsemen under the orders of a certain Shimr. On the 9th of Moharram in the year 61 (9th October a.d. 680), Shimr reached Kerbelâ, and summoned Hosain afresh to surrender at discretion. Hosain preferred to die sword in hand, and on the following day, after a desperate struggle, he was cut down with all his followers. His head was cut off and carried to Cufa, and then sent to Damascus. His body was not buried till the following day. Only the women of his family were spared, and one of his sons; these were taken by Yazid’s order to Medina, where the sight of their mourning and the tale of their sufferings caused a profound sensation. The horror and grief of the partisans of 'All’s family were great. Hence the names of Yazid, Obaid Allâh, and Shimr, have been held accursed ever since by the Shi'ites. They observe the 10th of Moharram as a day of public mourning. Among the Persians, stages are erected in public places on that day, and plays are acted, representing the misfortunes of the family of 'Ali. The Omayyads themselves were loud in their reprobation of this impious massacre, and all Moslems, without distinction of party, considered it a monstrous act.

At Mecca the news was received with a degree of indignation of which 'Abdallâh b. Zobair took advantage to assume the title of Caliph. As early as a.h. 60, the new prefect of Medina had tried to secure his person. He had sent against him a force of two thousand men, at whose head was placed a brother of the pseudo-Caliph himself, called 'Amr, who, having been accused by 'Abdallâh of maintaining a guilty intercourse with one of his wives, had become his bitter enemy. 'Abdallâh collected an army, and placed it under the orders of 'Abdallâh b. Safwân, who completely defeated the Omayyad troops. The brother of the pseudo-Caliph was taken and put to death. At the news of this defeat, Yazid swore that Ibn Zobair should never appear before him but as a prisoner in chains. He dismissed the new prefect of Medina, and reinstated Walid b. 'Otba, who, in the year 61, went to Mecca to try to seize 'Abdallâh b. Zobair. The latter, in derision, wrote to Yazid: “Walid is a madman, who will ruin everything by his folly; send in his place another governor to repair the wrongs he has done.” Yazid thought that 'Abdallâh meant these words as a step towards reconciliation; hastened to deprive Walid of his office; appointed Othmân b. Mohammed in his place; and even sent envoys to Ibn Zobair. He, however, would not listen to them; he thought he could reckon upon the devotion of the people of Mecca, and further hoped that Medina itself would declare against Yazid. This, in fact, took place in the year 63 (a.d. 682-683). The people of Medina, stirred up by a certain 'Abdallâh b. Hanzala, who had had a near view of Yazid at the court of Damascus, and had been scandalized by the profligacy of his life, revolted, drove the governor and all the Omayyads out of Medina, and proclaimed the dethronement of Yazid. The Caliphate was even offered by some to 'Ali, that one of the sons of Hosain who had escaped the massacre of Kerbelâ; but 'Ali wisely refused it. At the news of this revolt, Yazid first sent an ambassador to Medina. This step proving fruitless, he next collected an army of from ten to twelve thousand Syrians, and entrusted their command to Moslim b. 'Okba, who passed, and with good reason, for a man who would recoil from nothing. This general, though weighed down by age and sickness, marched against Medina, took it, after a battle known as the day of Harra (26th Dhu Ι-Hijja 63, 26th August 683), and gave up the city for three days to massacre and pillage. Torrents of blood flowed, and hence Moslim b. 'Okba received the surname of Mosrif (the Prodigal). On the fourth day, Moslim repaired to the mosque, and received the oath of allegiance from all those of the citizens of Medina who had not been able to make their escape. The news reached Mecca a few days later, and fell like a thunderstroke on Ibn Zobair and his adherents, who prepared for war, expecting from day to day to see Moslim appear before the Avails of their city. He had, in fact, started for Mecca immediately after the conquest of Medina; but he died on the road, and the command was taken by Hosain b. Nomair. The Omayyad army arrived before Mecca a month after the capture of Medina, and found Ibn Zobair ready to defend it. A number of the citizens of Medina had come to the aid of the Holy City, as well as many Khârijites and Shi'ites, at the head of whom was a certain Mokhtâr b. Abi Obaid, who subsequently played a very important part in 'Irâk. In spite of the sorties of the Meccans, the Syrian army invested the city. Hosain b. Nomair had caused balistas to be placed on the neighbouring heights; and these, under the management of an Abyssinian soldier, hurled against the Ka'ba enormous stones and vessels full of blazing bitumen, with such effect that the temple took fire and was consumed. After a siege of two months, Ibn Zobair was beginning to despair, when he received, through an Arab of the desert, news of the death of Yazid. The Caliph had in fact died on the 15th of Rabi' I. (11th November 683).

Hosain b. Nomair immediately offered the Caliphate to Ibn Zobair, on condition that he should grant a complete amnesty to all those who had taken part in the battle of Harra and in the siege of Mecca. 'Abdallâh had the folly to refuse, and Hosain then returned to Damascus.

Thus rid of his enemy, 'Abdallâh caused the title of Prince of the True Believers (Amir al-mo’minin) to be conferred on him—a title which Omar had already received, and which was afterwards adopted by all the Caliphs. He sent one of his brothers, Obaid Allâh, to Medina, and chose as governor of Egypt 'Abd al-Rahmân b. Jahdam, who repaired to that province, and caused the authority of Ibn Zobair to be acknowledged there. At Basra and at Cufa, many of the inhabitants did not hesitate to acknowledge him, and received a Zobairite governor, while the Khârijites and the Shi'ites rose in revolt—the former at Basra under the leadership of Nâfi' b. Azrak, the latter at Cufa under that of Solaimân b. Sorad—and expelled the Omayyad governor, Obaid Allâh b. Ziyâd, who took refuge at Damascus. Mesopotamia soon followed the example of 'Ir<4k. Even in Syria, the population seemed disposed to forsake the cause of the Omayyads. The Khârijites and Mokhtâr b. Abi Obaid, who had supported Ibn Zobair, now repented of having laboured for the elevation of this pretender, and quitted Mecca. The son of Zobair, remaining thenceforth sole master of Mecca, occupied himself tranquilly in rebuilding the Ka'ba, which he restored on its ancient foundations.

3. It was in the midst of this break-up of his party that, immediately after the death of Yazid, his eldest son, Mo'âwiya II., was elected Caliph at Damascus at the age of only seventeen or twenty. He was a young man of weak character, and imbued, it is said, with Shi'ite opinions. He felt himself incapable of ruling, and was contemplating abdication, when he died, after a reign of but forty days, by poison, as some say; of the plague, as others assert. The Caliphate was immediately offered to Othmân b. Otba b. Abi Sofyân, cousin of Mo'âwiya II.; for Khâlid, the second son of Yazid, was only sixteen years old. Othmân b. Otba, however, having made it a condition of his election that he should not be compelled to enter on any war, or to condemn any one to death, the choice fell at Damascus on Merwân b. al-Hakam, a z descendant of Omayya through his grandfather Abù Ί-'As, but on condition that he should marry Maisün, the widow of Yazid, and should appoint Khâlid, her son, as his successor.

4. Merwân b. al-Hakam had been secretary to the Caliph Othmân, and governor of Medina under Mo'âwiya I. Yazid, on his accession to power, had dismissed him and put Walid b. Otba in his place; but Merwân had continued to live at Medina, and had been driven from it during the revolt of the year 63, and again in the following year, when Obaid Allâh b. Zobair had taken possession of that city in the name of his brother. It might have been thought that Merwân would cherish a deep hatred of 'Abdallâh Ibn Zobair; but he was an old man of sixty-two at the time of his election, and, dreading an unequal struggle, he was on the point of making his submission to the Meccan Caliph. The drooping courage of Merwân was revived by his son 'Abd al-Melik and by Obaid Allâh b. Ziyâd, and he resolved to try the chances of war.

Dahhâk b. Kais, governor of Damascus, had declared himself on the side of Ibn Zobair, and had raised an army, principally from among the tribe of Kais. This tribe had taken offence because Mo'âwiya I. and Yazid had chosen their wives from the Yemenite tribe of Kalb, and, continuing to resent their conduct, now refused to acknowledge Khâlid as the heir-presumptive of Merwân. It was therefore on the Yemenites that Merwân had to depend for the suppression of Dahhâk’s rebellion. The latter had an army of nearly sixty thousand horsemen, while Merwân could bring together only thirteen thousand infantry. The two armies met at Marj Râhit, a few miles from Damascus, and, after a series of combats which lasted for twenty days, Merwân’s troops gained a complete victory, and Dahhâk was among the killed. The Syrian provinces hastened to acknowledge the conqueror, and Merwân was able to turn his attention to Egypt, which, as will be remembered, had submitted to the Meccan. 'Abd al- 'Aziz, a son of Merwân, had already marched to Aila on the Red Sea, and was preparing to enter Egypt; Merwân joined him, and the Zobairite governor of Egypt, beaten by their united forces, was obliged to seek safety in flight. Merwân made 'Abd al-'Aziz governor of the province. At the beginning of the year 65 (a.d. 684-685) Merwân returned in haste to Syria; for, during his absence, a brother of Ibn Zobair, named Mos'ab, had invaded that province. Merwân triumphed over Mos'ab; but an army of four thousand men, which he had sent to the Hijâz, and in which was Hajjâj b. Yüsuf—then quite a young man, but who afterwards played so important a part under 'Abd al - Melik — was cut to pieces. This defeat was redeemed by a victory gained by his generals, Obaid Allâh b. Ziyâd and Hosain b. Nomair, at 'Ain al-Warda over a small army of Shi'ites led by Solaimân b. ⅛orad. But while the battle was being fought in Ramadan 65 (April-May 685), Merwân died; suffocated, it is said, by his wife Maisün, because he had insulted her son Khâlid, and had broken his word by nominating his own son 'Abd al-Melik as his successor. The accession of 'Abd al-Melik was attended with no difficulty, as he was acknowledged by the whole of Syria and Egypt. The Kaisites naturally rallied round him, because he had not a drop of Yemenite blood in his veins.

5. When 'Abd al-Melik ascended the throne, there still remained much to be done before the unity of the empire could be re-established. Ibn Zobair was still master of Arabia and of 'Irâk, though in the latter province his authority was very much shaken by the permanent rebellion of the Shi'ites at Cufa, and of the Khârijites at Basra. The Zobairite general Mohallab had, it is true, succeeded in forcing back the Khârijites into Susiana and Persia; but at Cufa the Shi'ites, at the instigation of Mokhtâr, continued their agitation. Mokhtâr, as we have seen, had withdrawn from Mecca after the raising of the siege by Hosain b. Nomair. He returned to Cufa, and there fomented serious disturbances. Many of the inhabitants of that city repented bitterly of having allowed Hosain, the grandson of the Prophet, to be massacred. Amid the general disorder of the Moslem empire, Mokhtâr hoped to make his own authority acknowledged in 'Irâk and Mesopotamia. He put himself forward as the avenger of the family of 'All, and pretended to have been commissioned by a son of 'All, Mohammed b. Hanafiya, who was living at Medina, to give effect to his rights to the Caliphate. Many Shi'ites believed him, and, detesting their chief Solaimân b. Sorad, joined Mokhtâr. On learning these intrigues, the Zobairite governor threw him into prison. Soon after the defeat of Solaimân at 'Ain al-Warda, at the request of Mokhtâr’s brother-in-law, who was no other than 'Abdallâh the son of Omar, the governor consented to set him at liberty, on his swearing to make no further attempts against him. As Solaimân had fallen on the field of battle at 'Ain al-Warda, all the Shi'ites now acknowledged Mokhtâr as their chief. He, however, considering himself bound by his oath, remained inactive until the governor who had imposed it was replaced by 'Abdallâh b. Moti'. The new Zobairite governor, suspecting with reason that Mokhtâr was about to recommence his intrigues, thought it advisable to invite him to his house, with the intention of having him arrested. Mokhtâr called his partisans together, and plotted with them to take Ibn Moti' by surprise. As, however, Sa'd, one of the Shi'ite chiefs, asked for a delay of a week, for the purpose of collecting troops, Mokhtâr was obliged to feign illness in order to evade the governor’s invitation, and took care to surround himself with a numerous body of guards. Meanwhile Sa'd, who had only demanded this delay in order to ascertain the real wishes of Mohammed b. Hanafiya, sent off four confidential messengers to Medina, to ask Mohammed whether he had really confided the care of his interests to Mokhtâr. Mohammed contented himself with replying vaguely that it was the bounden duty of every good Moslem to take part with the family of the Prophet. These words were interpreted in favour of Mokhtâr, and thenceforward all the Shi'ites followed him blindly as their chief. Mokhtâr fixed the middle of the month Rabi' I., A.H. 66, for the commencement of hostilities. During the night of the 13th to the 14th, the conspirators intended to gain possession of the city by a coup de main; but the governor was on his guard, and Mokhtâr and his Shi'ites took the course of leaving Cufa. They numbered sixteen thousand resolute men. All the armies which 'Abdallâh b. Moti' sent against them were successively beaten, and Mokhtâr soon re-entered Cufa in triumph, compelling the Zobairite governor to flee to Basra. Once master of Cufa, Mokhtâr thought himself already in possession of the empire. He sent emissaries to Medina, to Mosul, to Madâin, and even into Azerbaijan, with orders to induce the people to take the oath of allegiance to him. He then sent his generals, Yazid b. Anas and Zofar, against the Omayyad army, which had entered Mesopotamia after the battle of 'Ain al-Warda, and these prevented the advance of the Syrians into 'Irâk. Another of Mokhtâr’s generals, Ibrâhîm b. Mâlik, inflicted a serious defeat on the Syrians near Mosul, and 'Obaid Allâh b. Ziyâd, who commanded them, fell in the battle. Ibrâhîm was rewarded by Mokhtâr with the government of Mosul. Mokhtâr himself next took the title of “lieutenant of the Mahdi” and inserted in the Khotba, on Friday’s preaching, a prayer on behalf of Mohammed b. Hanafiya; which was equivalent to declaring him Caliph. After this, urged on by his adherents, he caused all those who had taken part in the massacre of Hosain, the grandson of the Prophet, like Omar b. Sa'd and Shimr, to be sought out and put to death.

While these events were occurring, the Caliph at Damascus, 'Abd al-Melik, sent an army of observation to the frontiers of Arabia. Mokhtâr, having been informed of this, feigned an intention to help Ibn Zobair, and despatched a body of three thousand men from Cufa, under the command of a certain Sharâhîl. His real object was to concentrate forces at Medina, with a view to attacking Ibn Zobair. But the latter penetrated his design, and two thousand Meccans marched by his orders to meet Sharâhîl, who was defeated.

In the same year (a.h. 66) Mohammed b. Hanafiya had gone to Mecca to perform the ceremonies of the pilgrimage.

Ibn Zobair took advantage of this to seize his person, and confined him in a small house adjoining the well of Zamzam, within the precincts of the Ka'ba. Mohammed succeeded in conveying intelligence of his detention to Mokhtâr; and he, delighted to find his aid implored by the very man whose follower he called himself, swore to effect his rescue. He despatched a thousand chosen horsemen, who managed to conceal their march so well, that they were under the walls of Mecca before the son of Zobair had been able to make the slightest preparations for defence. They made their way into the Holy City; but, being unwilling to draw the sword on that sacred ground, they armed themselves with sticks, broke in the doors of the house in which Mohammed b. Hanafiya was imprisoned, rescued him, and escorted him out of the city. A son of Mohammed, called 'All, who had also been thrown into prison, likewise succeeded in escaping, and rejoined his father at some distance from Mecca.

In the following year, Ibn Zobair, who was determined to get rid, at all costs, of so dangerous an adversary as Mokhtâr, ordered his brother Mos'ab to effect a junction with Mohallab, the conqueror of the Khârijites, and to march against Cufa. Mos'ab and Mohallab invested that city, and Mokhtâr, making a sortie against them, was beaten, taken prisoner, and beheaded. 'Irâk thus, for the second time, fell under the rule of Ibn Zobair. Ibrâhîm b. Mâlik, who held Mosul in the name of Mokhtâr, submitted to the conquerors, on condition of retaining his government; but Mos'ab deprived him of his office, and put Mohallab in his place. He himself was appointed governor of 'Irâk by his brother, and, having installed himself at Basra, placed Cufa under the orders of his lieutenant Hârith. The year after, the Khârijites of Susiana raised a fresh insurrection, and invaded 'Irâk. Mohallab had to be recalled from Mosul, and during his absence it was Ibrâhîm b. Mâlik whom Mos'ab chose to supply his place. The period of the pilgrimage caused a momentary truce to all these struggles, and in that year was seen the curious spectacle of four different standards planted near Mecca, belonging respectively to four party chiefs, each of whom was a pretender to the empire: the standard of 'Abdallâh b. Zobair, Caliph of Mecca; that of the Caliph of Damascus, 'Abd al-Melik; that of the son of 'All, Mohammed b. Hanafiya; and that of the Khârijites, who were at that time under the command of Najda b. 'Amir. Such, however, was the respect inspired by the holy places, that no disorders resulted from the presence of so many inveterate rivals.

The Omayyad Caliph, whose troops had been beaten in Mesopotamia, and who had been hitherto content to watch the frontiers of Arabia, was again prevented from pushing on military operations more actively by the breaking out of troubles in Syria. At the beginning of A.H. 69 (a.d. 688-689), 'Abd al-Melik having left Damascus at the head of a numerous army, with the purpose of marching against 'Irâk, the Omayyad 'Amr b. Sa'id, whom he had appointed governor of Damascus, took advantage of his absence to lay claim to the supreme power, and to have himself proclaimed Caliph by his partisans. 'Abd al-Melik was obliged to retrace his steps, and to lay siege to his own capital. The garrison of Damascus took fright, and deserted their posts; so that 'Amr b. Sa'id, abandoned by his followers, was compelled to surrender at discretion. 'Abd al-Melik at first meant to spare him, but he afterwards changed his mind, and struck off his head with his own hand. Scarcely had he suppressed this revolt, when the Emperor of Constantinople, Justinian II., in violation of the thirty years’ truce formerly concluded between Mo'âwiya I. and Constantine IV., sent a Greek army to invade Syria. 'Abd al-Melik was obliged to buy peace for the time, for he required all his forces to dispute the empire with the son of Zobair. He consented, it is asserted, to pay the Greeks an indemnity of one thousand pieces of gold weekly. He then gave his attention to the renewal of the projected expedition against 'Irâk. Mos'ab the Zobairite had rendered himself odious to the inhabitants of Basra and Cufa by his exactions, and a party favourable to 'Abd al-Melik was already forming in those cities. The Omayyad Caliph marched forth at the head of an army composed of Syrians and Egyptians, and encamped three parasangs from the plain of Dair al-Jâthalik, not far from the site of Baghdad, where Mos'ab had established his army. Before joining battle, 'Abd al-Melik had written secretly to all the chiefs of Mos'ab’s army, making them the most seductive promises if they would agree to desert the cause of Mos'ab. This step was crowned with success, and on the eve of the battle, which took place on the 13th Jomâdi II., a.h. 71 (23d November 690), several of these generals passed into the camp of 'Abd al-Melik with arms and baggage. Mos'ab nevertheless attacked his enemy, but during the battle he found himself deserted by his troops, and, not choosing to survive his defeat, he caused himself to be slain. This victory opened the gates of Cufa to 'Abd al-Melik, and all 'Irâk received him with acclamations. He remained forty days at Cufa, and then, having given the government to his brother Bishr, while Khâlid b. 'Abdallâh received that of Basra, he returned in triumph to Damascus. Soon after, the Omayyad arms having sustained a check from the Khârijites in Fârsistân, the Caliph gave Khâlid orders to march against those sectaries with the support of Mohallab, who was their terror, and of the governor of Bey. Khâlid succeeded completely in this expedition, and drove the Khârijites out of Ahwâz, Fârsistân, and Kirmân. On his side, the Omayyad Caliph stirred up a revolt in Khorâsân, a province which still remained faithful to the Zobairite cause. Its governor was treacherously assassinated by his lieutenant Bokair, who received, as the price of this service, the governorship of the province.

Only Arabia now remained to Ibn Zobair. In a.h. 72 'Abd al-Melik made preparations for depriving him of it. Accordingly he raised an army; but when his generals found that another siege of Mecca was in contemplation, not one of them was willing to accept such a mission. An obscure officer, Hajjâj b. Yùsuf, boldly offered to lead the expedition. 'Abd al-Melik had little confidence in him, and therefore at first placed only two or three thousand horsemen under his command. Hajjâj set out, traversed the Hijâz without resistance, and pitched his camp at Tâif, not far from Mecca. Ibn Zobair tried to dislodge him; but in the frequent encounters between his troops and those of Hajjâj, the latter always had the advantage. 'Abd al-Melik then decided on sending him a reinforcement of five thousand men, on receiving which Hajjâj invested Mecca. The blockade lasted several months, during which the city was a prey to all the horrors of siege and famine. Hajjâj had set up balistas on the neighbouring heights, and poured a hail of stones on the city and the Ka'ba. Famine at length triumphed over the last adherents of the son of Zobair. Ten thousand fighting men, and even several of the sons of the pretender, left the city and surrendered. Mecca being thus left without defenders, Hajjâj took possession of it and invested the Ka'ba. Then the son of Zobair, seeing that ruin was inevitable, went to his mother Asmâ, who had reached the age of a hundred, and asked her counsel. She answered that he must die sword in hand; and when, in embracing him for the last time, she felt the cuirass which he wore, she exclaimed that such a precaution was unworthy of a man resolved to perish. 'Abdallâh took off his cuirass, and taking refuge in the Ka'ba, passed the night there in prayer. At daybreak of the 14th of Jomâdi I. in the year 73 (1st October 692), the Omayyad troops made their way into the mosque. 'Abdallâh attacked them furiously, notwithstanding his advanced age, but at last fell, overwhelmed by numbers. His head was cut off, carried to Hajjâj, and sent by the victorious general to Damascus.

With Ibn Zobair perished the influence which the early companions of Mohammed had hitherto exercised over Islam. Medina and Mecca, though they continued to be the Holy Cities, had no longer the political importance which had enabled them to maintain a struggle with Damascus. Temporal interests, represented by Damascus, will henceforth have precedence over those of religion; policy will outweigh fanaticism; and the centre of Islam, now permanently removed beyond the limits of Arabia, will be more easily affected by foreign influences, and assimilate more readily their civilizing elements. Damascus, Cufa, and Basra will attract the flower of all the Moslem provinces; and thus that great intellectual, literary, and scientific movement which is to reach its apogee under the 'Abbâsid Caliphs at Baghdâd, will become daily more marked.

By the death of the son of Zobair, 'Abd al-Melik remained sole Caliph · for Mohammed b. Hanafiya reckoned for nothing since the death of Mokhtâr, whose creature he had been. The only remaining danger was from the Khârijites, who, though incessantly repulsed, as incessantly returned to the charge. Hajjâj had remained after his victory at Mecca, where he was occupied in rebuilding the Ka'ba, ruined for the second time by his engines of war. In the year 75, 'Abd al-Melik, alarmed at the news which reached him from Persia and 'Irâk, named Hajjâj governor of that province, and gave him the most extensive powers for the re-establishment of order. The troops of 'Irâk, who accompanied Mohallab in an expedition against the Khârijites, had abandoned their general and dispersed to their homes, and nothing could induce them to return to their duty. Hajjâj, arriving unexpectedly at Cufa, ascended the pulpit at the moment when the people were assembled for morning prayers, and delivered an energetic address to them, which depicts his character so well, that some passages from it may be cited :—

‘ ‘ Men of Cufa, I see before me heads ripe for the harvest, and the reaper—I am he! I seem to myself already to see blood between turbans and shoulders. I am not one of those who can be frightened by an inflated bag of skin, nor need any one think to squeeze me like dried figs. I have been chosen on good grounds; and it is because I have been seen at work that I have been picked out from among others. The Prince of the Believers has spread before him the arrows of his quiver, and has tried every one of them by biting its wood. It is my wood that he has found the hardest and the bitterest, and I am the arrow which he shoots against you.”

Thereupon Hajjâj ordered that every man capable of bearing arms should immediately join Mohallab in Susiana, and swore that all who made any delay should have their heads struck off. This threat produced its effect, and Hajjâj proceeded to Basra, where his presence was followed by the same result. Mohallab, reinforced by the army of 'Irâk, at last succeeded, after a struggle of eighteen months, in subjugating the Khârijites, and was able, at the beginning of a.h. 78, to return to Hajjâj at Basra. The latter loaded him with honours and made him governor of Khorâsân, whence he directed several expeditions against Transoxiana.

While Mohallab was fighting against the Khârijites in Persia, Hajjâj himself had had to struggle against rebellion. Three Khârijites, Çâlih, Shabib, and Motarrif, had succeeded in creating a party in Mesopotamia and 'Irâk. The second had even pushed his audacity so far as to march upon Cufa, and for a moment had occupied that city. Hajjâj overcame the rebels; and through his vigilance, Katari b. al-Fojâ’a, another Khârijite chief, after being pursued as far as Tabaristân, on the Caspian Sea, was taken and killed by two Omayyad generals.

When he gave the government of Khorâsân to Mohallab, Hajjâj had committed that of Sijistân to Obaid Allâh b. Âbi Bakra. At the beginning of a.h. 79, Obaid Allâh’s troops were beaten by the king of Kâbùl. Hajjâj thought it advisable to remove Obaid Allâh and to replace him by the captain of his guards, 'Abd al-Rahmân b. al-Ash'ath. This was a bad choice, for Ibn al-Ash'ath had often given proofs of an insubordinate temper, and Hajjâj soon had occasion to repent of it. In fact, soon after his arrival in Sijistân, 'Abd al-Rahmân, whose army was composed of contingents from Cufa and Basra, always ready for revolt, conceived the design of an insurrection against the authority of Hajjâj. Popular movements often go beyond the object first proposed; and not only did the troops welcome joyfully the idea of marching against the hated governor of 'Irâk, but they even proclaimed the dethronement of 'Abd al-Melik, and saluted Ibn al-Ash'ath as Caliph. The new pretender entered Fârsistân and Ahwâz, and it was in this last province, near Shuster, that Hajjâj came up with him, after receiving from Syria the reinforcements which he had demanded in all haste from the Caliph. Hajjâj was beaten and obliged to retreat. Ibn al-Ash'ath pursued him as far as Basra, which opened its gates to him; but fortune soon changed, and he was again driven out by his adversary. Ibn al-Ash'ath then turned his arms against Cufa, and with aid from within, obtained possession of it; thus cutting the communications of Hajjâj with Syria. The latter, thus compelled to leave Basra, took the field, and pitched his camp at Dair al-Jamâjim, two days’ journey from Basra. Ibn al-Ash'ath marched against him at the head of his army. The condition of 'Irâk caused the greatest uneasiness at Damascus, and 'Abd al-Melik hoped to stifle the revolt by proposing to the insurgents the dismissal of Hajjâj from his post. The insurgents rejected this offer, and hostilities recommenced. At the end of three months, in Jomâdi II., a.h. 83 (July 702), a decisive action took place. Victory declared for Hajjâj. Ibn al-Ash'ath fled to Basra, where he managed to collect fresh troops; but, having been again beaten, he took refuge in Susiana, from which he was driven by a son of Hajjâj. The rebel then retired into Sijistân, and afterwards sought an asylum with the king of Kâbùl. As soon as his partisans had rejoined him, he penetrated into Khorâsân, in order to raise an insurrection there. The governor of this province was at that time Yazid, son of the celebrated Mohallab, who had died in the year 82. Yazid marched against Ibn al-Ash'ath, and cut his army to pieces. From that time the pretender disappeared; and it is thought that, having again taken refuge with the king of Kâbùl, he was betrayed by him and put to death. It was during this long struggle that, in the year 83, Hajjâj laid the foundations of the city of Wâsit (the Intermediate); so called because it is situated midway between Cufa and Basra. Some time after the suppression of this revolt, in the year 84, Hajjâj deprived Yazid b. Mohallab of the government of Khorâsân, accusing him of partiality towards the rebels, and appointed in his stead first his brother Mofaddal b. Mohallab, and nine months after Kotaiba b. Moslim, who was destined at a later period to extend the sway of the Moslems in the East as far as China.

While these events were taking place, 'Abd al-Melik was engaged in the West in a struggle against the Greeks. We have seen that in the year 69 the Caliph, compelled as he then was to direct all his efforts towards 'Irâk and Arabia, had concluded a disgraceful peace with Justinian II. It was not till a.h. 73 (a.d. 692-693) that he resumed hostilities in Armenia, Asia Minor, and Africa. The operations in Asia Minor and in Armenia were entrusted to Mohammed b. Merwân, brother of the Caliph, and to Othmân b. Walid. They beat the Greeks at first; but, in consequence of subsequent reverses, the Moslems were compelled to accept peace, which was broken anew by the Greeks about the year 75 or 76, the Caliph in one of his letters to Justinian II. having used expressions which displeased the Christian monarch. In retaliation, Justinian threatened to have legends offensive to Islam struck on his coins. As, up to that time, the Moslems had no special coinage of their own, and principally used Byzantine and Persian money, this menace led 'Abd al-Melik to institute a purely Arabic coinage. It was a Jew of Taimâ, named Somair, -who commenced its fabrication. Justinian II. refused to receive these coins in payment of the tribute, and declared the treaty at an end. The incensed Moslems fought valiantly, and succeeded in extending their frontiers to Mar'ash, on the side of Asia Minor, and to Amid, on the side of Armenia. From this time forth the Moslems made yearly expeditions against the Greeks; but they were only razzias, for which the Greeks often avenged themselves by incursions into the territory of Islam.

In Africa we have seen that 'Okba b. Nâfi' had been slain by the Berbers, who had taken Kairawân. In the year 73 'Abd al-Melik sent Hassân b. No'mân into Africa, at the head of a numerous army. He retook Kairawân, swept the coast as far as Carthage, expelling the Greek garrisons from all the fortified places, and then, turning his arms against the Berbers, beat them so completely that they submitted for a long time to the tribute and the conscription. But when Hassân left Africa, the Greeks, under the successor of Justinian, retook the coast-line. Hassân prepared to return to Africa, but he previously demanded from the governor of Egypt, 'Abd al-'Aziz, the recall of a freedman, whom he had appointed governor of a part of the province of Africa. 'Abd al- 'Aziz refused, and Hassân went to Damascus to complain to the Caliph. Soon after his arrival at the capital he died, and the governor of Egypt placed Mùsâ b. Nosair at the head of the expedition. This general reconquered the seaboard as far as Carthage, and drove the Greeks permanently from it. The daring Mùsâ continued his triumphant march, and took possession of the whole of the coast to Tlemcen. One of his lieutenants, in the year 82, carried a reconnaissance by sea as far as Sicily. The Moslem fleet having been destroyed by a storm, Mùsâ equipped another, and entrusted its command to his brother 'Abdallâh, who returned to Sicily and effected a razzia there. Merwân, the father of ‘Abd al-Melik, had designated as successor to the latter his other son, 'Abd al-'Aziz, governor of Egypt. 'Abd al-'Aziz having died in the year 84, 'Abd al-Melik chose as heirs of the empire, first his son Walid, and after him his second son Solaimân. He himself survived 'Abd al-'Aziz only two years, and died 14th Shawwâl 86 (8th October 705), at the age of about sixty. His reign was one of the most unquiet in the annals of Islam, but also one of the most glorious. 'Abd al-Melik not only brought triumph to the cause of the Omayyads, but extended and strengthened the Moslem power externally. Amid so many grave anxieties, he yet found time for his pleasures. He was passionately fond of poetry, and his court was crowded with poets, whom he loaded with favours, even if they were Christians, like Akhtal. In his reign flourished also the two celebrated rivals of Akhtal, Jarir and Farazdak.

6. Immediately on his accession Walid confirmed Hajjâj in the government of 'Irâk, and appointed as governor of Medina his cousin Omar b. 'Abd al-'Aziz, who was received there with joy, his piety and gentle character being well known. Under his government important works were undertaken at Medina and Mecca by order of Walid, who, having no rivals to struggle against, was able to give his attention to pacific occupations. The mosque of Medina was enlarged, wells were sunk, the streets widened, and hospitals established. At Mecca many improvements were introduced. The reputation of Omar attracted to the two Holy Cities a great number of the inhabitants of 'Irâk, who were groaning under the iron hand of Hajjâj. The latter, who was not a man to let his prey escape from his grasp, was so urgent with Walid that he obtained the dismissal of Omar b. 'Abd al-'Aziz in the year 93, and the appointment of Othmân b. Hayyân at Medina, and of Khâlid b. 'Abdallâh at Mecca. These two prefects compelled the refugees at Mecca and Medina to return to 'Irâk, where many of them were cruelly treated and even put to death by Hajjâj. It was probably his cruelty which drove so many men of 'Irâk to enlist in the armies of the East and the South; and this may in some degree account for the unheard-of successes of Kotaiba b. Moslim in Transoxiana, and of Mohammed b. Kâsim in India. They may also be explained by the ambition of Hajjâj, who, it is said, cherished the project of creating a vast empire for himself to the east and south of the Moslem realm, and had secretly promised the government of China to the first of his generals who should reach that country. Be this as it may, in the course of a very few years Kotaiba conquered the whole of Bokharia, Khârizm, and Transoxiana or Mâ warâ-annahr, as far as the frontiers of China. Meanwhile Mohammed b. Kâsim invaded Mokrân, Sind, and Mùltân, carried off an immense booty, and reduced the women and children to slavery. In Armenia and Asia Minor, Maslama, brother of the Caliph Walid, and his lieutenants, also obtained numerous successes against the Greeks. In Armenia, Maslama even advanced as far as the Caucasus.

The most important achievement, however, of Walid’s reign was the conquest of Spain. The narrative of this conquest belongs specially to the history of Spain; and we shall therefore only touch briefly on it here. We have seen that, even in the Caliphate of 'Abd al-Melik, Mûsâ b. Nosair had penetrated as far as Tlemcen in Africa. Under Walid, Mûsâ, who had been appointed governor of Africa, entered Morocco, occupied Fez and Tangier, and then returned to Kairawân, having made his lieutenant Târik governor of Tangier and of all the West of Africa. ’ The town of Ceuta still held out under its governor Julian, who held it in the name of Witiza, King of Spain. Witiza having been dethroned by Roderic, Julian thought he might find the Arabs useful allies in the struggle which he proposed to carry on against the usurper and entered into negotiations with Târik. The latter, foreseeing the possibility of conquering for the advantage of the Arabs a country which had been represented to him as a paradise, requested instructions from Mûsâ, who referred the matter to the Caliph. Walid gave Mûsâ carte blanche, and Târik hastened to make alliance with Julian. He first, however, sent four ships, with five hundred men under the command of Tarif, to reconnoitre the country. This expedition was successful, and Târik, now certain of meeting no serious opposition to his landing, passed into Spain himself, at the head of twelve thousand men, in the year 92 (a.d. 710-711), and landed at the spot which thence received the name of Jabal-Târik, or “Mountain of Târik,” a name which was afterwards corrupted by the Westerns into Gibraltar. At the news of this invasion, Roderic led a numerous army against the Arabs, but was completely routed near Cadiz, and perished in the conflict. Mûsâ, jealous of the success of his lieutenant, hastened to Spain with eighteen thousand men, and his first step on arriving was to send Târik orders to suspend his march. But Târik, far from obeying, divided his little army into three corps, and obtained possession successively of Ecija, Malaga, Elvira, Cordova, and Toledo. Mûsâ, hopeless of arresting the victorious march of Târik, determined to play the part of a conqueror himself, and took Seville, Carmona, and Merida. On rejoining T∙4rik at Toledo, the first step he took was to throw him into prison. The Caliph, however, gave orders that he should be set at liberty and restored to his command. The two conquerors then shared the country between them, and, in less than three years, all Spain was subdued, to the very foot of the Pyrenees. Meanwhile Walid, fearing to see Mûsâ declare his independence, recalled him to Damascus. He obeyed after appointing his son 'Abd al-'Aziz governor of Spain, and assigning Seville as his residence. Mûsâ left Spain in the month of Safar, a.h. 95 (October-November 713), in company with Târik, bringing an immense booty to Damascus, and leading in his train a great number of prisoners. His journey from Ceuta to Damascus was one long triumph. He reached Egypt in the month of Rabi' I. in the following year (Nov.-Dec. 714), and then moved on by short marches towards Damascus, where he did not arrive till two months and a half later, at the very moment when Walid had just breathed his last, and his brother Solaimân had been saluted as Caliph. The renowned Hajjâj had preceded his sovereign, and had expired five days before the end of Ramadan, a.h. 95. Mûsâ did not receive the reward due to his distinguished services. Accused of peculation by the new Caliph, he was beaten with rods, and condemned to a fine of 100,000 pieces of gold; and all his goods were confiscated. Solaimân did not stop here: he caused 'Abd al-'Aziz, the son of Mûsâ, to be put to death in Spain, and carried his cruelty so far as to show his severed head to Mûsâ, asking him whether he recognised it. He replied that it was the head of a man a thousand times superior to him who had ordered his death. Mûsâ died soon after. As for Târik, there is no further mention of him after the beginning of the reign of Solaimân, and we must therefore suppose that he retired into private life.

7. Solaimân had nearly missed the throne. Walid, in the very year of his death, wished to have his son 'Abd al-'Aziz b. Walid chosen as his successor, and had offered Solaimân a great sum of money to induce him to surrender his rights to the Caliphate; but Solaimân obstinately refused to do so. Walid went still further, and sent letters to the governors of all the provinces, calling on them to make the people take the oath of allegiance to his son. None except Hajjâj and Kotaiba b. Moslim consented thus to set at nought the order of succession established by 'Abd al-Melik; and Solaimân succeeded without difficulty at the death of his brother. We can easily conceive the hatred felt by Solaimân for Hajjâj, and for all that belonged to him, far or near. Hajjâj himself escaped by death; but Solaimân poured out his wrath on his family, and strove to undo all that he had done. First of all, Mohammed b. Kâsim, the conqueror of India, who was cousin to Hajjâj, was dismissed from his post and outlawed. Hajjâj had deprived Yazid b. Mohallab of the government of Khorâsân; Solaimân conferred on him that of 'Irâk. Kotaiba b. Moslim, on learning the accession of Solaimân, knew that his own ruin was certain, and therefore anticipated the Caliph by a revolt. But Solaimân induced Kotaiba’s troops to desert by authorising them to return to their homes; and when the illustrious general sought to carry his army with him, a conspiracy was formed against him which ended in his murder. Yazid b. Mohallab, who preferred Khorâsân to 'Irâk, obtained permission to exchange. Immediately on his return to Khorâsân he set on foot a series of new expeditions against Jorjân and Tabaristân. But the inhabitants of Khorâsân, which he governed oppressively, made complaints against him to the Caliph, accusing him of practising extortions in order to obtain such a sum of money as would enable him to rebel against his sovereign. From that day Solaimân determined to get rid of Yazid. As, however, he was then dreaming of the conquest of Constantinople, he thought it prudent to dissemble his dissatisfaction for some time.

The Byzantine empire was disturbed by internal troubles during the years a.d. 715-717. Solaimân resolved to take advantage of these in order to rid himself for ever of the hereditary enemy of Islam, and prepared a formidable expedition. A fleet of eighteen hundred vessels, equipped at Alexandria, sailed to the coasts of Asia Minor, took on board the Moslem army, commanded by Maslama, and transported it to Europe. This army appeared under the walls of Constantinople, 15th August 717, five months after Leo III., the Isaurian, had ascended the throne. Once more the Greek fire prevailed against the Moslems. Their fleet was destroyed by this terrible engine of war; the army could obtain no fresh supply of provisions, and suffered all the horrors of famine. Meanwhile the Caliph, who desired to be present in person at the taking of Constantinople, had set out to join the army. He fell ill at Dâbik, not far from Aleppo, and died there on the 22d of September in the same year, after having nominated as his own successor his cousin, Omar b. 'Abd al-'Aziz, and as successor to the latter, Yazid b. 'Abd al-Melik, his own brother. In vain did the new Caliph despatch from Egypt a fleet of four hundred ships to carry arms and provisions to the army before Constantinople; this fleet also was destroyed by the Greeks, and the Moslem army was decimated by famine, and soon by the plague as well. A hundred thousand men perished miserably under the walls of Constantinople, and Maslama brought back to Asia Minor a mere handful of soldiers, and that with great difficulty.

8. Omar b. 'Abd al-'Aziz, incensed at this disaster, took his revenge on the Christians of his own states by excluding them from all public employments, in spite of the great services they rendered there, and by loading them with imposts to such an extent that one public functionary wrote thus to the Caliph: “If things continue to go on in Egypt as at present, all the Christians will become Moslems to escape taxation, and the State will lose its revenue.” To this the pious Omar replied: “I should look on the conversion of all the Christians as a great piece of good-fortune; for God sent his prophet to act the part of an apostle, and not of a tax-gatherer.” By his religious intolerance, by the simplicity of his life, and by his vigour in observing the precepts of his religion and enforcing their observance, Omar has acquired in Moslem history the reputation of a saint. But the sanctity of a prince does not ensure the greatness of a State; and the reign of Omar, as we shall see, was injurious rather than advantageous to Islam. He alienated the provincial governors by his severity; and the family of 'Abbâs took advantage of the general discontent to stir up the people secretly, and thus to prepare the way for the fall of the dynasty.

It will be remembered that Solaimân died before carrying out his purpose of deposing Yazid b. Mohallab, the governor of Khorâsân. Omar II. took it on himself to fulfil this design. He summoned Yazid to his presence, and on his arrival at Damascus, threw him into prison, and demanded the restitution of the money which he believed him to have misappropriated. As Yazid alleged that he could render no account of it, the Caliph banished him to Dahlak, a small island in the Red Sea, but soon brought him back, and placed him in close confinement. It was not till a.h. 101, when Omar II. was dying, that Yazid succeeded in escaping and took refuge in 'Irâk. Mokhallad, the son of Yazid, whom his father, on quitting Khorâsân, had left there as his lieutenant, was also summoned to Damascus, and the Caliph at first appointed Jarrâh b. 'Abdallâh governor of that province, but soon after, on receiving complaints against him, replaced him by 'Abd al-Rahmân al-Koshairi, whom he desired to use every effort for the conversion of the unbelievers, rather than to think of extending the Moslem power by force of arms. With so pacific a disposition, it is easy to understand that the Caliph did not signalize his reign by any conquest; except a revolt of the Khârijites in 'Irâk, which was suppressed by Maslama, his caliphate was not distinguished by any warlike event. Its most noticeable occurrence, as we have said above, was the commencement of the 'Abbâsid movement.

The 'Abbâsid family derived its name from 'Abbâs, who was Mohammed’s uncle on the father’s side, and who, during the Prophet’s life, had enjoyed universal consideration among the Moslems. It was he who, at the death of the Prophet, had the charge of washing the corpse. The first Caliphs, Abûbekr, Omar, Othmân, and 'AH, showed the utmost deference to 'Abbâs; and his eldest son 'Abdallâh had been united in the closest friendship with Hosain, the unfortunate son of 'All. After the assassination of 'Ali, and the slaughter of Hosain, 'Abdallâh had retired to Mecca, and there brought up his numerous family in hatred of the Omayyads. It was from his youngest son 'AH, born a.h. 40, that the 'Abbâsid dynasty sprung. Under the Caliph 'Abd al-Melik, this 'AH was living at Damascus; but, on his marrying Labbâba, the divorced wife of 'Abd al-Melik, the Caliph conceived a great aversion for 'AH. Walid, the son and successor of 'Abd al-Melik, inherited his father’s prejudices, subjected 'AH to every kind of insult, and drove him from his court. Walid’s successor, Solaimân, gave him leave to return to Damascus, but 'AH, instead of availing himself of this permission, preferred to retire to Homaima, a town situated in the south of Syria, on the confines of Arabia. It was in this retirement that his son Mohammed conceived the design of supplanting the Omayyad dynasty. We have said that the first 'Abbâsids were closely united with the family of 'All. Mohammed b. 'AH, the 'Abbâsid, saw clearly that it was only among the followers of 'AH that he λvas likely to be able to form a party. To attain this object, he formed the plan of making it believed that a descendant of the Prophet’s son-in-law had transmitted to him his rights to the Caliphate. It will be remembered that Mohammed b. Hanafiya had come forward as a pretender to the throne at the troublous period when Ibn Zobair and 'Abd al-Melik were disputing the Caliphate. According to the story of the 'Abbâsids, Abù Hâshim 'Abdallâh, the son of Ibn Hanafiya, had gone to Homaima, to the house of Mohammed b. 'AH, and had made on his deathbed a legal transfer of his rights to Mohammed, by appointing him his heir. Whatever may be the truth respecting this transfer, Mohammed the 'Abbâsid spread abroad the report of it, and chose especially for its propagation the provinces in which the family of 'Ali had the greatest number of adherents, 'Irâk and Khorâsân. Emissaries sent by him into these two provinces, under the cahphate of Omar II., began to stir up the people in secret against the reigning house. Omar was probably acquainted with these intrigues, but he had not time to repress them, for he died on the 20th or 25th of Rajab, A.H. 101 (5th or 10th February 720), after a reign of about two years and a half.

9. Yazid, the son of 'Abd al-Melik, ascended the throne without resistance. His first care was to pursue Yazid b. Mohallab, who had escaped from his prison and taken refuge in 'Irâk. Besides reasons of state, Yazid II. had personal reasons for ill-will to Yazid b. Mohallab. One of the wives of the new Caliph, the same who gave birth to that son of Yazid II. who afterwards reigned under the name of Walid II., was niece to the celebrated Hajjitj, who, as it will be remembered, had hated and persecuted Yazid b. Mohallab. Aware of the alliance of the new Caliph with the family of Hajjâj, the son of Mohallab had made every effort to escape as soon as he was informed of the illness of Omar II.; for he well knew that Yazid II. -would spare neither him nor his family. In fact, the Caliph sent express orders to the prefect of 'Irâk to arrest all the brothers and other members of the family of Mohallab who were to be found at Basra; and this order was immediately carried out. But Yazid b. Mohallab had many partisans in 'Irâk. He collected a small army, and fought with such valour that in a short time he succeeded in making himself master of Basra, where he had himself proclaimed Caliph. The public treasury fell into his hands, and he employed it in paying his troops and in raising fresh ones, whom he sent on expeditions into Khùzistân or Ahwâz, Fârsistân, Mokrân, and Sind. As this revolt threatened to spread far and wide, Yazid II. was obliged to have recourse for its suppression to the celebrated Maslama. Early in a.h. 102, this illustrious general took the field, and completely defeated Ibn Mohallab near Basra. Yazid fell in the battle, and his brothers fled beyond the Indus, but were pursued and slain by the lieutenants of Maslama.

This revolt suppressed, Yazid II. was able to give his thoughts to the extension of the empire, an object which had been so much neglected by his predecessor. Several expeditions were directed against Farghâna in Transoxiana, against the Khazars in Armenia, and against the Greeks in Asia Minor, but without any very decided results. In

Africa, serious troubles had been caused by the appointment as governor of a certain Yazid b. Abi Mosliιn, who had been secretary to Hajjâj, and who followed the example of his master’s implacable harshness. The Berbers rose in insurrection, slaughtered the unfortunate governor, and chose in his place Mohammed b. Aus. The Caliph at first ratified this choice, but soon after dismissed Mohammed from his post, and replaced him by Bishr b. Çafwân, who sent out an expedition against Sicily.

In Europe, the Arabs obtained at first some degree of success. Under the orders of Samah, then governor of Spain, they crossed the Pyrenees, and took possession of Narbonne; but, having been beaten at Toulouse, they had to retrace their steps. It was the celebrated Abderame ('Abd al-Rahmân) who effected their retreat.

Yazid II. died three years later of a lingering illness, caused, it is said, by his grief for the death of a favourite slave-girl. At his accession, Yazid had designated as his successors, in the first place his son Hishâm, and in the second his son Walid. Hishâm ascended the throne without opposition.

10. Hishâm was a pious prince and an enemy of luxury; as rigid in his religion as Omar II. To this severity may in part be attributed the disturbances which broke out in the provinces during his reign. The governors were accustomed to remain loyal to the Caliphs only when the latter did not exact from them too rigorous an account. Hishâm was, besides, very avaricious, a fault highly calculated to make him odious to those about him. Lastly, he favoured the Yemenites, and this alienated from him the powerful party of the Kaisites. All these circumstances emboldened the 'Abbâsids to carry on actively their propaganda in 'Irâk and Khorâsân, and it succeeded beyond their hopes. The Kaisite tribes, offended at seeing the Caliph bestow the best posts on Yemenites, were ready to espouse with enthusiasm the cause of any one whose aim was the overthrow of the Omayyads. Rebellion had been smouldering in the provinces for thirteen years; it broke out at last at Cufa and in the whole of 'Irâk, under chiefs called Moghira and Bahlùl; and when these insurgents had been chastised, others sprung up in their place, 'Amr al-Yashkori, Al-'Anazi, and Al-Sakhtayâni. The prefect of 'Irâk, Khâlid b. 'Abdallâh, was accused of favouring this revolt, was degraded, and replaced by Yùsuf b. Omar, who threw him into prison, where he remained for eighteen months. This measure increased the discontent of the people of 'Irâk, and a member of the family of 'AH, Zaid b. 'AH, collected round him a small body of partisans, and had himself proclaimed Caliph, a.h. 122 (a.d. 739-740). Unfortunately for Zaid, he had to do with the same Cufans whose fickleness had already been fatal to his family. In the moment of danger he was deserted by his troops, slain in an unequal conflict, and his head sent to Damascus. In Khorâsân also there were very serious disturbances. In the year 106 (a.d. 724-725) there had already been a revolt at Balkh, excited by the emissaries of the 'Abbâsids. The following years brought with them fresh troubles, which led to the dismissal of the governor of Khorâsân, Asad, the brother of Khâlid b. 'Abdallâh, who had been prefect of 'Irâk. Under the successors of Asad, who were successively z Ashras b. 'Abdallâh, Jonaid b. 'Abd al-Rahmân, and 'Àsim b. 'Abdallâh, seditions broke out in Transoxiana, which were repressed with great difficulty; and it was not until the year 120 that, by the appointment of the brave and prudent Nasr b. Sayyâr as governor of Khorâsân, peace was for a time restored to that region. The 'Abbâsid emissaries, nevertheless, secretly continued their propaganda.

In India, several provinces which had been converted to Islam under the Caliphate of Omar II. declared themselves independent; and this led to the founding of several strong cities for the purpose of controlling those provinces. It was thus that the cities of Mahfιiza and Mansûra had their origin.

In the north and north-west of the empire there were no internal disorders, but the Moslems had much to do to maintain themselves there against the Alans, the Turkomans, and the Khazars. The illustrious Maslama lost his life in battle, and Merwân b. Mohammed, afterwards Caliph, took his place as prefect of Armenia and Azerbaijan. He succeeded in imposing peace on the petty princes of the Eastern Caucasus, and in consolidating the Arab power in that quarter. The war against the Byzantines lasted during the whole of Hishâm’s reign. In Asia Minor, the Moslems reoccupied Caesarea, and laid siege to Nicaea. Arab writers even declare that Constantine, afterwards Emperor of Constantinople, was made prisoner in the year 114 (a.d. 732-733), but the Byzantine authorities make no mention of this fact. On the other hand, they notice an important defeat of the Moslem arms in a.d. 739. This defeat, which is acknowledged by the Arab writers, cost the life of their general, 'Abdallâh, surnamed al-Battâl—“the hero”—whose prowess still lives in the memory of the people of Asia Minor.

In Africa, several successive prefects were fully occupied in repressing the constant insurrections of the Berbers. In Spain, the attention of the Moslems was principally turned to avenging their defeats beyond the Pyrenees. As early as the second year of the reign of Hishâm, 'Anbasa, governor of Spain, crossed the Pyrenees, and pushed on military operations vigorously. Carcassonne and Nîmes were taken. The death of t Anbasa, in a.h. 107 (a.d. 725-726), put a stop to hostilities; but they recommenced still more vigorously six years later. 'Abd al-Rahmân (Abderame), the same who, under Yazid II., had led back to Spain the remnants of the Moslem army, crossed the mountains anew, and penetrated into Gascony by the passage of Roncevaux. The Moslems beat the Duke Eudes, gained possession of Bordeaux, and overran the whole of Southern Gaul as far as the Loire. But in A.H. 114 (a.d. 732) Charles Martel, whose aid the Duke of Aquitaine had implored, succeeded in inflicting on 'Abd al-Rahmân so severe a defeat, near Poitiers, that the Moslems were obliged to effect a hasty retreat, and to return to Spain. Two years later the new governor of Spain, 'Okba b. al-Hajjâj, re-entered Gaul, and pushed forward expeditions as far as Burgundy and Dauphiné. Charles Martel, with the help of the Lombards, again drove back the Arabs as far as Narbonne. Thenceforth the continual revolts of the Berbers in Africa on the one side, and on the other the internal troubles which disturbed Spain, and which led at a later period to its independence, offered insurmountable obstacles to the ambition of the Moslems, and prevented their resuming the offensive.

Such was the state of the empire when Hishâm died on the 6th of Rabi' II. a.h. 125 (6th Feb. a.d. 743), after a reign of twenty years. He had not been wanting in energy and ability. Yet under his reign the Moslem power declined rather than advanced, and signs of the decay of the Omayyad dynasty began to show themselves. The history of his four successors, Walid II., Yazid III., Ibrâhîm, and Merwân II., is but the history of the fall of the Omayyads.

11. Walid II., the son of Yazid II., ascended the throne without opposition at the death of Hishâm; but he soon made himself so much hated and despised by his debaucheries and his irréligion that even the sons of Hishâm and of Walid I. plotted with the enemies of the Omayyads. Yazid, one of the sons of Walid I., went so far as to take openly the title of Caliph, and to march against Damascus, which Walid II. had quitted for fear of a pestilence which was then raging there. This step was fatal to the Caliph. The inhabitants of Damascus opened their gates to Yazid, who took possession of the arsenals, and used the arms they contained to equip new troops. Walid II., on his side, collected his adherents and marched against his rival. The two armies met at a place called Bakhrâ, on the confines of Syria and Arabia. Yazid had no difficulty in overcoming his opponent, who was abandoned by his own soldiers. Walid II. died fighting, having reigned little more than a year, and his head was taken to Damascus, and carried about the city at the end of a spear. (Jomâdi II., A.H. 126, March-April 744.)

12. The death of Walid II., far from appeasing the troubles of the State, put its unity in greater jeopardy than ever. The distant provinces escaped from the power of the new Caliph. In Africa, 'Abd al-Rahmân b. Habib declared himself independent. In Spain, every emir aspired to free himself from a suzerainty which appeared to him only nominal. In Khorâsân the 'Abbâsid emissaries were more and more busy, acting in the name of Ibrâhîm b. Mohammed, who had become the head of the family by the death of his father, Mohammed b. 'Ali. Even in Syria Yazid III. saw his authority disputed. Himself belonging to the sect of Mo'tazilites, who rejected the doctrine of predestination—a sect to which we shall have occasion to recur in treating of the religious history of Islam— he aroused all the orthodox against him. Besides this, many of the Syrians, from a sudden change of feeling, now desired to avenge the death of Walid II. The inhabitants of Emesa revolted, and marched against Damascus. They were beaten at a place called Thaniyat al-'Okâb, or The Eagle’s Pass, twelve miles from the capital. Palestine rose in its turn, and chose as its Caliph another Yazid, cousin of the reigning prince. This revolt also was suppressed. But a greater danger menaced Yazid III. The Omayyad Merwân b. Mohammed, who was, as we have said, governor of Armenia and of Azerbaijân, also prepared to dispute the supreme power with the Caliph of Damascus, and invaded Mesopotamia. Yazid III., in his alarm, offered him the government of this last province as the price of peace. Merwân accepted these conditions, but he would probably not have left his rival long at rest, had not the latter died after a reign of only six months.

13. Yazid III. left his brother Ibrâhîm as his successor. At the news of Yazid’s death, Merwân collected a powerful army and entered Syria. Having beaten Ibrâhîm’s generals one after the other and taken Emesa, he advanced rapidly towards Damascus. Solaimân b. Hishâm tried to oppose his march, but he was defeated at 'Ain al-Jarr, between Baalbec and Damascus, and the Caliph Ibrâhîm took flight; while Solaimân, the son of Hishâm, laid hands on the public treasure, and then fled in turn. Merwân entered Damascus, and caused himself to be proclaimed Caliph. The reign of Ibrâhîm had lasted only two months. Ibrâhîm himself soon acknowledged the new Caliph, and submitted to his authority.

14. Merwân II. was a man of energy, and might have revived the strength of his dynasty, if the ferment in the east of the empire had been less strong. Unfortunately for him, the 'Abbâsid movement had never ceased to gain ground in Khorâsân, and the chief adherent of the family of 'Abbâs, Abù Moslim, was in no degree inferior to the Caliph in energy and ability. This Abù Moslim, whose origin is obscure and disputed, had been distinguished by the 'Abbâsid Mohammed b. 'All, the same who alleged that he had been appointed heir to the claims of the family of 'All to the supreme power. If we may believe the legend, Mohammed had even foretold that the accession of his family would take place in the year of the ass, λ through the efforts of Abù Moslim, and that one of his three sons would ascend the throne. These three sons were: Ibrâhîm, 'Abdallâh, called Abù Ί-'Abbâs, and 'Abdallâh, called Abû Ja'far. Whatever we may think of this prediction, it is certain that under Merwân II. Abû Moslim was the principal emissary of the 'Abbâsid Ibrâhîm, and had been able to form a vast conspiracy in Khorâsân, which broke out in A.H. 128, at the very moment when it had been discovered by Nasr b. Sayyâr, the Omayyad governor of the province. Even before this, Merwân II. had had to repress disorders which had broken out in Syria, Palestine, and Trâk; and the Caliph could now rely so little on Syria that he had thought it necessary to quit Damascus, and to fix his abode at Harrân, in Mesopotamia. On learning the revolt of Abû Moslim, Merwân II. wrote to Nasr b. Sayyâr, directing him to act with vigour against the fomenters of sedition. It was easier to give such an order than to execute it, for Abû Moslim was at the head of a numerous army, absolutely devoted to the 'Abbâsids. Merwân II. thought it necessary at the same time to secure the person of the 'Abbâsid pretender Ibrâhîm, who was still living at Homaima. Ibrâhîm was therefore arrested, conveyed to Harrân, and thrown into prison. He found means, however, of communicating with his lieutenant Abû Moslim, and the latter, who had received the most extensive powers from his chief, marched direct upon Merv, the capital of Khorâsân, and drove out the governor Nasr. At the news of this the Caliph, no longer able to restrain his anger, had his captive Ibrâhîm put to death; an execution which, at a later period, brought upon the Omayyads the most terrible reprisals. The brother of Ibrâhîm, Abû Ί-'Abbâs, surnamed Saffâh, “The Sanguinary,” on account of his cruelties, having by Ibrâhîm’s death become chief of the 'Abbâsids, immediately quitted Homaima with all the members of his family, and took refuge in Khorâsân, that his presence there might sanction and encourage the insurrection. Abû Moslim, now master of Khorâsân by the capture of Merv, had meanwhile sent an army against 'Irâk, under the orders of Kahtaba b. Shabib, who had beaten the Omayyad army, commanded by Yazid b. Hobaira, governor of that province. In a.h. 132 Abû Ί-'Abbâs arrived at Merv. After remaining there some time, waiting for a favourable moment, he decided on openly assuming the title of Caliph. He installed himself in the governor’s palace, and thence went in state to the mosque, where he mounted the pulpit, and officiated in the capacity of successor of the Prophet. All those present took the oath of allegiance to him, and Abû 1- Abbâs returned to the palace, over which the olack flag was flying, black being the distinctive colour of the 'Abbâsids. But he did not remain long at Merv Committing the government of that city to his uncle Dâwûd, he went to review his army, and divided it into several corps, which he directed against different points. After this he went to Chaldaea, and there established himself in a spot not far from Cufa, to which he gave the name of Hâshimîya, or the city of Hâshim, the ancestor of his own family and of that of the Prophet. Another of his uncles, 'Abdallâh b. 'Ali, whom he had sent on an expedition against the city of Shahrozûr, took possession of that place, and leaving Abû 'Aun 'Abd al-Melik b. Yazid there as governor, rejoined his nephew and sovereign at Hâshimîya. Meanwhile the Omayyad Caliph had marched against Shahrozûr. Abû 'Aun went out to meet him, and was joined by a strong reinforcement of cavalry under 'Abdallâh b. 'All. The 'Abbâsids only numbered forty-five thousand soldiers, but these were experienced and resolute warriors. The Omayyad army, though much more numerous, was ill commanded and devoid of spirit. A battle ensued, and fortune favoured the rebels. In vain did Merwân show himself everywhere; his soldiers gave way and repassed the Zâb in disorder, hurrying away in their flight the unfortunate Merwân. (Jomâdî II. 11, a. H. 132, 25th January 750.) This victory cost the Omayyads their empire. Merwân attempted at first to take refuge at Mosul; but the inhabitants of that city having declared for the enemy, the prince went to his capital Harrân, whence he was soon driven by the army of 'Abdallâh b. 'All. From Harrân Merwân fled successively to Emesa, to Damascus, to Palestine, and finally to Egypt. He was pursued without intermission by §âlih, brother of 'Abdallâh b. 'Ali, who at last came up with him at Bûsîr, on the frontiers of the Delta. Merwân took refuge in a Coptic church; but the 'Abbâsids pursued him into the building, and slew him at the foot of the altar. His head was cut off and sent to Cufa, where the new Caliph then was.

Thus perished in the East the dynasty of the house of Omayya, which, having been founded by usurpation, had only maintained itself, by shedding torrents of blood, and was destined to perish in blood. We now enter upon the history of the new dynasty, whose origin we have described, and under which the power and glory of Islam reached their highest point.

Here we give the Genealogical Table of the Omayyads. [table]

Sect. II.— The 'Abbâsids.

1. From the death of Merwân may be reckoned the real accession of the 'Abbâsid dynasty to the Caliphate, which thus returned to the hands of the grand-nephews of the Prophet. Abù Ί-'Abbâs, whose proper name was 'Abdallâh, and who afterwards received the surname of Saffâh, was, as has been said above, a man of energetic will, who hesitated at nothing to ensure the triumph of his dynasty. When he caused himself to be proclaimed Caliph at Cufa, one of his partisans, Abù Salama, who had till then believed that Abû Ί-'Abbâs was working to restore the posterity of 'All to the throne, and not to gain possession of the empire for himself, hesitated to take the oath of obedience to the new Caliph. Abû Ί-'Abbâs immediately resolved on his destruction, but fearing that Abû Salama might have a secret understanding with the conqueror of Khorâsân, he began by sending his own brother Abu Ja'far into that province to sound Abû Moslim. The latter loudly disclaimed any alliance with Abιi Salama, and, that no suspicion might rest upon him, he sent a confidential agent to Cufa, and had Abιi Salama assassinated. Still further to prove his zeal for the house of 'Abbâs, Abû Moslim also got rid of Solaimân b. Kathir, another 'Abbâsid emissary, whom he suspected of partiality towards the family of 'Ali. On his side, Abû Ί-'Abbâs caused 'Abdallâh b. Mo'âwiya, an adherent of 'All’s family, to be treacherously slain, though he had distinguished himself in the wars against Merwân. As for the Omayyads, they were systematically followed up and put to death. The new Caliph desired to exterminate that family, not only for the sake of revenge, but also that he might deprive the Syrians of any pretext for fresh insurrections. In fact, hardly had Abû Ί-'Abbâs been proclaimed Caliph at Cufa, when the Omayyad governor of Kinnesrin, Abû Ί-Ward b. Kauthar, notwithstanding that he had taken the oath to the new sovereign, gave the signal for revolt in the name of the Omayyads. Abû Ί-'Abbâs immediately ordered his uncle 'Abdallâh b. 'All, who had been made governor of Palestine, to act with the utmost rigour against all members of the Omayyad family on whom he could lay his hands. That he might let none of them escape, 'Abdallâh pretended to grant an amnesty to all Omayyads who should come in and acknowledge the new Caliph, and even promised them the restitution of all their property. Ninety members of that unfortunate family allowed themselves to be entrapped by these specious promises, and 'Abdallâh, on pretence of sealing the reconciliation of the two parties, invited them to a banquet. But when they were all collected, a body of executioners rushed into the hall, and slew the Omayyads with blows from whips and rods. A grandson of Hishâm, 'Abd al-Rahmân b. Mo'âwiya, who had taken refuge in Africa, alone escaped this massacre. It was he who, at a later date, founded in Spain the Omayyad dynasty of Cordova. The cruelty of the 'Abbâsids excited a feeling of horror in the whole of Syria, and the revolt soon became general. Abû Ί-Ward b. Kauthar found himself at the head of forty thousand men, and pitched his camp at Marj al-Akhram, a plain near Kinnesrin. The revolt spread even to Mesopotamia and 'Irâk. One of Merwân’s former generals, Ishâk b. Moslim, laid siege to Harrân, while Yazid b. Hobaira, formerly governor of 'Irâk, raised an insurrection at Wâsit. In Khorâsân also, as many as thirty thousand malcontents took up arms against Abû Moslim. Notwithstanding this formidable display of force, the 'Abbâsids remained conquerors. In Syria, 'Abdallâh b. 'Ali beat Abû Ί-Ward at Marj al-Akhram. Abû Ja'far, brother of the Caliph, compelled Ishâk b. Moslim and Yazid b. Hobaira in succession to submit. Lastly, Abû Moslim quieted the rising in Khorâsân. Mosul also attempted an insurrection, but Yahyâ, a brother of the Caliph, quenched the revolt in streams of blood. All the provinces being thus reduced to peace, the new Caliph distributed them among the principal members of his family and his best generals. To his brother Abû Ja'far he gave a part of Mesopotamia, Azerbaijân, and Armenia; to his uncle 'Abdallâh b. 'Ali, Syria; to his uncle Dâwûd, Arabia, Hijâz, Yamâma, and Yemen; to his cousin 'tsâ b. Mûsâ, the province of Cufa. Abû Moslim continued in possession of the government of Khorâsân, Transoxiana, and a part of Fârsistân. Egypt was entrusted to Abû 'Aun. Another uncle of the Caliph, Solaimân b. 'All, received the government of Basra, with Bahrain and 'Ômân. Lastly, the province of Mosul was taken from the cruel Yahya, and granted to one of the uncles of Abû Ί-'Abbâs, Ismâ'il b. 'Ali, who received besides the government of Ahwâz. In Sind, the Omayyad governor had succeeded in maintaining himself, but was defeated by an army sent against him under Mûsâ b. Ka'b, and the black standard of the 'Abbâsids was raised over the city of Mansûra. If we omit Africa and Spain in describing this division of the provinces of the empire, it is because the 'Abbâsids never gained any real footing in Spain, while Africa remained in only nominal subjection to the new dynasty.

Abû Ί-'Abbâs, after having definitively established his power, left the town of Hâshimïya and fixed his residence at Anbâr, where he died on the 13th of Dhû Ί-Hijja, a.h. 136 (9th June 754).

2. Abû Ί-'Abbâs had designated as his successors, first Abû Ja'far, and after him his cousin 'isâ b. Mûsâ. At the moment of the death of Abû Ί-'Abbâs, Abû Ja'far, who then assumed the title of Al-Mansûr, “the Victorious,” was not in 'Irâk. He had undertaken the leadership of the pilgrims who had started on the journey to Mecca, and among whom figured the celebrated Abû Moslim. 'Abdallâh b. 'All, uncle of Abû Ί-'Abbâs, dissatisfied at having been excluded from the succession, took advantage of this absence to revolt. Having raised an army and proclaimed himself Caliph, he marched against Harrân and laid siege to it. On receiving this news, Abû Ja'far hastened to return to Anbâr in company with Abû Moslim, whom he placed at the head of his troops, and sent against the rebel. At the approach of Abû Moslim, 'Abdallâh, who had among his troops a body of seventeen thousand men of Khorâsân, fearing that they might declare for Abû Moslim, had them all slaughtered, as the historians assert, by his Syrians, and then hastened to meet his enemy. The two armies met at Nisibis, and, after a number of skirmishes, a decisive engagement took place on the 7th of Jomâdi II., a.h. 137 (28th November 754). 'Abdallâh was defeated and compelled to submit to Al-Mansûr, who spared his life. The new and brilliant service thus rendered by Abû Moslim to his sovereign ought to have placed him even higher in the favour of Mansûr than he already stood. On the contrary, it was the cause of his ruin. The Caliph wished to commit the task of maintaining order in Syria to Abû Moslim; but the latter refused to give up his government of Khorâsân, where he enjoyed an extraordinary reputation, and possessed numerous adherents, and, instead of obeying the order of the Caliph, directed his march towards the East. Thenceforth Mansûr looked on him only as a dangerous rebel, and sought for means of getting rid of him. On pretence of conferring with him on business of state, he induced him to come to Madâin (the ancient Ctesiρhon), caused him to be put to death by his guards, and ordered his body to be thrown into the Tigris. Thus miserably perished the real founder of the 'Abbâsid dynasty, after having accomplished his work, which, as the historians assert, cost the lives of more than 600,000 men. Notwithstanding the defeat of 'AbdallAh b. 'All and the murder of Abιi Moslim, the spirit of rebellion was not yet broken. Risings took place in Mesopotamia and to a still greater extent in KhorAsAn · and the Caliph’s troops were repeatedly beaten by the rebels; but order was at last re-established by Mansûr’s generals, by KhAzim b. Khozaima in Mesopotamia, and by Mohammed b. al-Ash'ath in Khorâsân.

About the same time Africa and Spain escaped from the dominion of the Eastern Caliphate; the former for a season, the latter permanently. The cause of the revolt of Africa was as follows: As soon as Mansûr ascended the throne, he wrote to 'Abd al-Rahmân, announcing the death of Abü Ί-'Abbâs, and requiring him to take the oath of allegiance. 'Abd al-Rahmân sent in his adhesion to the new Caliph, and added a few presents of little value. The Caliph was so much dissatisfied that he replied by a threatening letter which excited the anger of 'Abd al-Rahmân. He called the people together at the hour of prayer, mounted the pulpit, publicly cursed Mansûr, and then declared his deposition from the Caliphate. He next caused a circular letter to be written, commanding all Maghrébins to refuse obedience to the Caliph; and this letter was circulated and read from the pulpit throughout the whole extent of the Maghrib (the West). A brother of 'Abd al-Rahmân, Ilyâs, saw in this revolt an opportunity of obtaining the government of Africa for himself. Seconded by many of the inhabitants of Kairawân, who had remained faithful to the cause of the 'AbbAsids, he attacked his brother, slew him, and proclaimed himself governor in his stead. This revolution in favour of the 'AbbAsids was, however, of no long duration. Habib, the eldest son of 'Abd al-Rahmân, had fled on the night of his father’s murder, and IlyAs caused him to be pursued, with the object of transporting him to Andalusia. Habib was captured, but the vessel which was to convey him to Spain having been detained in port by stress of weather, the partisans of independence took arms, rescued Habib, and prepared to resist IlyAs, who was marching against them at the head of an army. Under these circumstances a fortunate idea occurred to Habib. He challenged his uncle IlyAs to single combat. IlyAs hesitated, but his own soldiers compelled him to accept the challenge. He measured arms with Habib, and was laid prostrate by him with a thrust of his lance. The party of independence thus triumphed, and several years elapsed before the 'AbbAsid general, Al-Aghlab, was able to enter Kairawân, and regain possession of Africa in the name of the Eastern Caliph. From this time forward, it must be added, Africa only nominally belonged to the 'AbbAsids; for, under the Caliphate of HArιin al-Rashid, Ibrâhîm, the son of Al-Aghlab, who was invested with the government of Africa, founded in that province a distinct dynasty, that of the Aghlabites.

Coincidently with the revolt in Africa, the independent Caliphate of the Western Omayyads was founded in Spain. The long dissensions which had preceded the fall of that dynasty in the East, had already prepared the way for the independence of a province so distant from the centre of the empire. Every petty emir there tried to seize sovereign power for himself, and the people groaned under the consequent anarchy. Weary of these commotions, the Arabs of Spain at last came to an understanding among themselves for the election of a Caliph, and their choice fell upon the last survivor of the Omayyads, 'Abd al-Rahmân b. Mo'âwiya, grandson of the Caliph Hisham. This prince was wandering in the deserts of Africa, pursued by his implacable enemies, but everywhere protected and concealed by the desert tribes, who pitied his misfortunes and respected his illustrious origin. A deputation from Andalusia sought him out in Africa, and offered him the Caliphate of Spain, which he accepted with joy. On 25th September, a.d. 755, 'Abd al-Rahmân landed in the Ibe^rian Peninsula, where he was universally welcomed, and speedily founded at Cordova the Western Omayyad Caliphate, with which this history has no further concern.

While Mansûr was thus losing Africa and Spain, he was trying to take from the Greeks the city of Malatiya, which, from the importance of its situation, was looked on as the key of Asia Minor. In a.h. 139-140 (a.d. 756- 757), a Moslem army of 70,000 men invested the place, and, after a vigorous siege, Malatiya was taken by assault. After this success the Moslems marched through Cilicia, entered Pamphylia, and cut to pieces a Greek army on the banks of the Melas. The Greeks asked and obtained a seven years’ truce, which Mansûr was the more disposed to grant because new and very serious troubles had been stirred up in his empire by certain sectaries of Khorâsân, called Râwandis. These Râwandis, like many other Persian sectaries, admitted a number of dogmas completely foreign to Islam, such as the transmigration of souls and the incarnation of the Deity as a man. They believed, for instance, as historians assure us, that divine honours ought to be paid to the Caliph Mansûr. They had their name from Râwand, a city near Isfahân, where the sect originated. A great number of these sectaries had repaired to Hâshimiya, the residence of the Caliph, and there persisted in marching in procession round his palace, as if it had been the Ka'ba. Mansûr, refusing to receive this impious homage, caused the principal chiefs of the sect to be seized and thrown into prison. The Râwandis immediately rose in revolt, broke open the prison doors, rescued their chiefs, and pushed their audacity so far as to besiege the Caliph in his own palace. Very fortunately for Mansûr, the populace declared against the Râwandis and massacred them; but from that time forward he took a dislike to the city of Hâshimiya, and resolved to choose another residence. He had at first thought of fixing his place of abode at Cufa; but he remembered the fickle character of the inhabitants, and decided on founding an entirely new city on the banks of the Tigris. His choice fell upon a spot near the ancient Ctesiphon, the capital of the Sassanids, called BaghdAd. There he himself laid the first stone of the city which was to be the centre of the civilised world as long as the Caliphate lasted. A revolt, however, of some importance soon called Mansûr’s attention from the building of BaghdAd. The descendants of 'Ali, who had had reason to think that the 'AbbAsids were labouring for their advancement, were now cruelly undeceived. In A.H. 145 (a.d. 762-763), Mohammed Mahdi, great-grandson of Hosain, and surnamed Al-Nafs al-Zakiya (“the pure soul ”), collected a large number of adherents at Medina, and had himself proclaimed Caliph. The governor of Cufa, 'ÎsA b. MûsA, received orders to march against him, and entered Arabia. The partisans of 'Ali were defeated, and Mohammed Mahdi fell in battle. But meanwhile his brother Ibrâhîm had gone to Basra, and had there succeeded in exciting a revolt, in presence of which the 'AbbAsid governor had been obliged to capitulate. The adherents of 'Ali, emboldened by this success, spread themselves over 'IrA⅛, and obtained possession of several places, among which was the city of Wâsit. Ibrâhîm was already advancing towards Cufa, at the head of a strong army, when 'Isâ b. Mûsâ, who had been hastily recalled from Arabia, threw himself in his way. A terrible conflict took place. At last Ibrâhîm fell, pierced by an arrow, and, in spite of the desperate efforts of lus followers, his body remained in the hands of the enemy. The partisans of 'All then dispersed, and never again ventured to have recourse to arms.

The Caliph was highly delighted when he heard of the decisive victory gained by 'Îsâ, but, far from rewarding his valiant cousin, he tried to compel him to renounce his right of succession to the Caliphate, with the view of substituting as heir-presumptive his own son Mohammed. 'Isâ at first energetically refused to abandon his rights; but Mansûr did not hesitate at a shameless deception, and produced false witnesses, who swore that 'Isâ had waived his claim in favour of Mohammed b. Mansûr. However unwillingly, 'Îsâ was obliged to yield his priority to Mohammed, but it was understood that, in case of the death of the latter, the succession should return to 'Îsâ. One of the false witnesses was, it is asserted, Khâlid b. Barmak, the head of that celebrated Persian family the Barmecides, which played so important a part in the reign of Hârûn al-Rashid. To this Khâlid, Mansûr had entrusted the elevated post of minister of finance.

In A.H. 158 (a.d. 774-775), Mansûr, feeling the decline of his powers, resolved to undertake for the last time the pilgrimage to Mecca. At the last station on the route he had a fall from his horse, and died at the gate of the Holy City. He was nearly seventy years of age, and had reigned for twenty-two years. He was buried at Mecca.

3. Mohammed b. Mansûr was at Baghdâd when he received the news of his father’s death, and hastened to have himself proclaimed Caliph. He then took the title of Mahdi (“the well-directed ”). To make his accession welcome to his subjects, he began by granting an amnesty to a great number of persons who had incurred the anger of Mansûr, and had been thrown into prison. Among these was a certain Dâwûd b. Ya'kfib, whom Mahdi afterwards made his prime minister. But, on the other hand, Mahdi did not choose to confirm in their posts the provincial governors in whom his father had placed confidence; he supplied their places by creatures of his own. These changes displeased the people of Khorâsân, who revolted under the leadership of a certain Yfisuf b. Ibrâhîm, surnamed Al-Barm. Mahdi sent against him his general Yazid b. Mazyad, who, after a desperate struggle, defeated Yfisuf, took him prisoner, and brought him in triumph to Baghdâd, where he was put to the torture and crucified. Mahdi had been scarcely a year on the throne, when he resolved to accomplish the pilgrimage to Mecca, and at the same time to visit the tomb of his father. Leaving his eldest son Mûsâ as governor of Baghdâd, he set off, accompanied by his second son Hârûn and a numerous suite. The chroniclers relate that the Caliph had ordered a great number of camels to be laden with snow, and that he reached Mecca without having exhausted this store. Immediately on his arrival in the Holy City, he applied himself, at the request of the inhabitants, to the renewal of the veils which covered the exterior walls of the Ka'ba. For a very long time these veils had been placed one over another, no care having been taken to remove the old covering when a new one was put on; so that the accumulated weight caused uneasiness respecting the stability of the walls. Mahdi caused the temple to be entirely stripped, and covered the walls again with a single veil of great richness. On this occasion he distributed considerable largesses among the Meccans. From Mecca, Mahdi went to Medina, where he caused the mosque to be enlarged. During his stay in that city he formed himself a guard of honour, composed of five hundred descendants of the Ansâr, to whom he assigned lands in Ιrfi⅛ to be held in fief. Struck by the difficulties of every kind which had to be encountered by poor pilgrims who desired to repair to Mecca from Baghdâd and its neighbourhood, he resolved to come to their help. His first care was to have the road from Baghdâd to Mecca laid out, and its divisions marked by milestones. He next ordered the construction at every stage of a kind of inn, where the poorer travellers might find shelter and food. He also saw to having new wells dug and cisterns built along the whole route.

Whilst he was devoting himself to these pious labours, he was menaced by a dangerous revolt in Khorâsân. Its leader was a sectary called Hakim, surnamed Al-Mokanna' or the Veiled One, because he never appeared in public without having his face covered with a mask. Al-Mokanna' hoped to gather a great number of adherents around him, and to govern the province as absolutely as Abû Moslim had formerly done. His religious teaching consisted in the assertion that God had several times become incarnate among men, and that his last incarnation was Mokanna' himself. Many Persians were seduced by his words, and still more by the hope of plundering the property of the Moslems, which Mokanna' promised to give up to them. The governor of Khorâsân and several other generals who marched against these sectaries were defeated; but at last the Caliph charged a skilful captain, Sa'id al-Harashi, with the direction of operations, and Sa'id, having compelled the impostor to throw himself into the city of Kash, soon reduced him to a choice between surrender and death. Mokanna' preferred the latter alternative, and took poison.

These disturbances did not suffice to turn Mahdi’s thoughts from the hereditary enemy of the Caliphate. Every summer he sent expeditions into Asia Minor against the Greeks; but these were not successful, and the Caliph decided on leading his army in person. Having levied in Khorâsân a large number of those mountaineers who had always distinguished themselves by their valour, he assembled his army in the plains of Baradân, on the banks of the Tigris, and commenced his march a.h. 163, taking with him his second son Hârûn, and leaving his eldest son Mûsâ as governor of Baghdâd. The latter was also designated as his successor in the Caliphate, 'Îsâ b. Mûsâ having definitively renounced the throne. Mahdi traversed Mesopotamia and Syria, entered Cilicia, and established himself on the banks of the Jaihân (Pyramus). Thence he despatched an expeditionary force, at the head of which his son Hârûn was nominally placed. In reality, that prince being too young to direct military operations, the chief command was exercised by his tutor, the Barmecide Yahyâ b. Khâlid. Hârûn took the fortress of Samâlû after a siege of thirty-eight days. In consequence of this feat of arms, Mahdi made Hârûn governor of Azerbaijân and Armenia. Two years later war broke out afresh between the Moslems and the Greeks. Leo IV., Emperor of Constantinople, had recently died, leaving the crown to Constantine Porphyrogenitus. This prince was then only ten years old, and would have been incapable of governing. His mother Irene took the regency on herself. By her orders an army of 90,000 men, under the command of Michael Lachonodracon, entered Asia Minor. The Moslems, on their side, invaded Cilicia under the orders of 'Abd al-Kabir, but were defeated by the Greeks. Mahdi then recalled his son Hârûn, and enjoined on him to avenge the failure of the arms of Islam. Hârûn assembled an army of nearly 100,000 men, and conceived the project of carrying the war to the very gates of Constantinople. The patrician Nicetas, who sought to oppose his march, was defeated by Hârûn’s general, Yazid b. Mazyad, and forced to take refuge at Nicomedia. Hârûn marched through Asia Minor, and pitched his camp on the shores of the Bosphorus. Irene took alarm, sued for peace, and obtained it, but on humiliating conditions. This brilliant success increased Mahdi’s affection for Hârûn to such an extent that he resolved, a few years later, to declare him his successor instead of Mûsâ. It was necessary first to obtain from Mûsâ a renunciation of his rights; and for this purpose his father recalled him from Jorjàn, where he was then engaged on an expedition against the rebels of Tabaristàn. Mûsâ, who had had information of his father’s intentions, refused to obey this order. Mahdi determined to march in person against his rebellious son (a.h. 169), and set out, accompanied by Hârûn. But, after his arrival at Mâsabadhân, a place in Persian ‘Irâk or Jabal, the Caliph died suddenly, at the age of only forty-three. There are two versions of the cause of his death: some attribute it to an accident met with in hunting; others believe him to have been poisoned. If this was really the case, although we have no proofs against Mûsâ, we may reasonably suspect him of having been privy to the sudden death of his father.

4. Mahdi having died before he could carry out his plan for assuring the throne to Hârûn, the succession naturally fell to Mûsâ, and he was proclaimed Caliph at Baghdâd in the year of his father’s death. He took the title of Hâdi (He who directs). Hârûn made no opposition to the accession of his brother, and the army which had accompanied Mahdi returned peacefully from Jabal to Baghdâd.

The accession of a new Caliph doubtless appeared to the partisans of the house of 'Ali a favourable opportunity for a rising. Hosain b. 'Ali, a descendant of that Hasan who had formerly renounced his pretensions to the Caliphate through fear of Mo'âwiya I., raised an insurrection at Medina with the support of numerous adherents, and had himself proclaimed Caliph. But having unfortunately conceived the idea of going on pilgrimage to Mecca, he was attacked at Fakh by a party of 'Abbâsids, and perished in the combat. His cousin Idris b. 'Abdallâh succeeded in escaping and fled to Egypt, whence he passed into Morocco; and there, at a later period, his son founded the Idrisite dynasty.

Hâdi, as may be supposed, had never been able to forget that he had narrowly escaped being supplanted by his brother. He formed a plan for excluding Hârûn from the Caliphate, and transmitting the succession to his own son Ja'far. He neglected no possible means of attaining this object, and obtained the assent of his ministers, and of the principal chiefs of his army, who took the oath of allegiance to Ja'far. Only Yahyâ b. Khâlid the Barmecide, Hârûn’s former tutor, absolutely refused to betray the interests of his pupil. In a discussion which took place between him and the Caliph on this subject, Yahyâ showed such firmness and boldness that Hâdi resolved on his death, and Harthama b. A'yan, one of the bravest generals of the empire, had already received the order to go and take his head, when the Caliph died suddenly. One of those terrible domestic dramas had been acted of which so many were afterwards seen in the palace of the Caliphs. The mother of Hâdi and Hârûn was Khaizorân, a haughty and intriguing woman, whose aim it was to get the direction of affairs into her own hands, leaving Hâdi only the shadow of power. Her influence over all matters of government was so well understood that her door was beset all day by a crowd of petitioners, who neglected the Caliph and preferred to address their requests to her. Hâdi soon became indignant at the subordinate part which his mother wished him to play, and after a dispute on the matter, he attempted to poison her. Khaizorân, hoping to find a more submissive instrument of her will in her second son, and wishing to protect herself against fresh attempts at murder, caused Hâdi to be taken unawares and smothered with cushions by two young slaves whom she had presented to him. (Rabi* I., a.». 170 Sent A.D. 786.) 1 ’

5. We have now reached the most celebrated name among the Arabian Caliphs, celebrated not only in the East, but in the West as well, where the stories of the Thousand and One Nights have made us familiar with that world which the narrators have been pleased to represent to us in such brilliant colours.

On the unexpected death of Hâdi, the generals and ministers who had declared against Hârûn, perceiving that popular favour did not incline to the son of the late Caliph, hastened to rally round the son of Khaizorân; and Hârûn, surnamed Al-Rashid (The Upright), ascended the throne without opposition. His first act was to choose as prime minister his former tutor, the faithful Yahyâ b. Khâlid, and to confide important posts to the two sons of Yahyâ, Fadi and Ja'far, the former of whom was also his own foster-brother. The Barmecide family were endued in the highest degree with those qualities of generosity and liberality which the Arabs prized so highly. Thus the chroniclers are never wearied in their praises of the Barmecides. Loaded with all the burdens of government, Yahyâ brought the most distinguished abilities to the exercise of his office. He put the frontiers, in a state of defence, and supplied all that was wanting for their security. He filled the public treasury, and carried the splendour of the throne to the highest point. The following anecdote will show what an amount of earnest affection the Barmecide family succeeded in winning :—

After Harun, as we shall relate farther on, had ruined the Barmecides of whose influence he was jealous, he forbade the poets to compose elegies on the disgrace of the family, and commanded that all who disobeyed this order should be punished. One day, as one of the soldiers of the Caliph’s guard was passing near a ruined building, he perceived a man holding a paper in his hand, and reciting aloud, and with many tears, a lament over the ruin of the palace of the Barmecides. The soldier arrested the man and led him to the palace of the Caliph, who ordered the culprit to be brought before him, and asked him why he had infringed his orders. “Prince,” replied the man, “let me relate my history to thee; when thou hast heard it, do with me as thou wilt. I was an inferior clerk under Yahyâ b. Khalid. He said to me one day: ‘Thou must invite me to thy house.’ ‘ My lord,’ I replied, * I am quite unworthy of such an honour, and my house is not fit to receive thee.’ ‘No,’ said Yahya, ‘thou must absolutely do what I require of thee.’ ‘ In that case,’ answered I, ‘grant me some little delay that I may make suitable arrangements. ’ Yahyâ granted me some months. As soon as I informed him that 1 was ready, he repaired to my abode, accompanied by his two sons, Fadi and Ja’far, and by some of his most intimate friends. Scarcely had he dismounted from his horse when he begged me to give him something to eat. I offered him some roastedchickens. When he had eaten his fill, he went over the whole of my house, and having seen it all, he asked me to show him the buildings attached to it. ‘ My lord,’ said I, ‘thou hast seen everything.’ ‘No,’ said he, ‘thou hast another house. ’ In vain I assured him that I had but one; he persisted in his assertion, and, sending for a mason, ordered him to make an opening in the wall. ‘My lord,’ said I, ‘may I venture thus to make my way into my neighbour’s house?’ ‘It matters not,’replied he. When a doorway had been opened, he passed through it, followed by his two sons, and I went after hin). We entered a delightful garden, well planted and watered by fountains. In this garden stood a beautiful house with pavilions adorned with furniture and carpets, and filled with slaves of both sexes, all of perfect beauty. ‘All this is thine,’said Yahya to me. I kissed his hands and poured out my thanks to him; and then I learned that on the very day when he had spoken to me of inviting him he had bought the land adjoining to my house, and had had it laid out for me without my ever suspecting it. I had certainly noticed that building was going on, but 1 was far from imagining that all this was intended for me. Yahyâ next addressed himself to Ja'far and said: ‘ Here are certainly a house and servants, but who will provide for their support?’ ‘I,’ replied Ja'far, ‘will give him a farm and its dependencies, and will send him the deed of gift.’ ‘Very well,’ continued Yahyâ; ‘but how is he to live until he shall receive the revenue of his property? ’ ‘I owe him a thousand pieces of gold,’ said Fadi, ‘and I will send them to his house.’ Thanks to these magnificent gifts, I afterwards gained great wealth,—wealth which I still enjoy. Since that day, I have never lost any opportunity of singing the praises of that noble family. And now, Prince, slay me if thou wilt; I am ready to die.” Harûn, affected by this tale, let the man depart, and in future forbade no man to weep for the tragical end of the sons of Barmak. (El-Fachri, ed. Ahlwardt, p. 237.)

Although the administration of HArûn’s states was committed to skilful hands, yet the first years of his long reign were not free from troubles. Towards the year 176 (a.d. 792-793), a member of the house of 'AH, named YahyA b. ‘AbdallAh, who had taken refuge at Dailam on the shores of the Caspian Sea, succeeded in forming a powerful party, and publicly announced his pretensions to the Caliphate. HArûn immediately sent an army of 50,000 men against the rebel, under the command of Fadi. Reluctant, however, to fight against a descendant of the Prophet, Fadi first attempted to induce him to submit, by promising him safety for his life and a brilliant position at the court of BaghdAd. YahyA accepted these conditions, but he required that the Caliph should send him letters of pardon countersigned by the highest legal authorities and the principal personages of the empire. HArûn consented to do so, and YahyA, furnished with the Caliph’s safe-conduct, repaired to BaghdAd, where he met with a splendid reception. At the end of some months, however, he was calumniously accused of conspiracy, and the Caliph, seizing this opportunity of ridding himself of a rival who might prove dangerous, threw him into prison, where he was soon after put to death. Dreading fresh insurrections, HArûn thought it well to secure the person of another descendant of 'AH, MûsA b. Ja'far, who was resident at Medina, where he enjoyed the highest consideration. The unfortunate man was sent to Baghdad, and there died by poison.

Meanwhile HArûn did not forget the hereditary enemy against whom he had already fought. Under his reign all the strong places of Syria were formed into a special province, which received the name of 'AwAsim. The charge of fortifying the city of Tarsus was committed to Faraj, the chief of the Turkish soldiers, whom the Caliphs were beginning to employ, and who were at a later period to become their masters. The ancient Anazarbus was rebuilt, and garrisoned with a military colony from KhorAsAn. Thanks to these measures, the Moslem armies were able to advance boldly into Asia Minor. IshAk b. SolaimAn entered Phrygia and defeated the Greek governor of that province. A Moslem fleet destroyed that of the Greeks in the Gulf of Satalia. HArûn in person invaded Asia Minor in the year 181 (a.d. 797-798), and during the following years his generals gained continual victories over the Byzantines, so that Irene was compelled to sue for peace. An attack by the Khazars called the Caliph’s attention from his successes in Asia Minor. That people had made an irruption into Armenia, and their attack had been so sudden that the Moslems were unable to defend themselves, and a hundred thousand of them had been reduced to captivity. Two valiant generals, Khozaima b. KhAzim and Yazid b. Mazyad, marched against the Khazars and drove them out of Armenia.

In the midst of the cares of war, Jlârûn did not forget his religious duties, and few years passed without his making the pilgrimage. In one of these pilgrimages, a.h. 186 (a.d. 802), he was accompanied by his two eldest sons, Mohammed and 'AbdallAh, and having determined to fix the order of succession in so formal a manner as to take away all pretext for future contentions, he executed a deed by which he appointed Mohammed his immediate heir; after him 'AbdallAh, and after 'AbdallAh a third of his sons, named KAsim. Mohammed received the surname of Al-Amin (The Sure), 'AbdallAh that of Al-Ma’mûn (He in whom men trust), and KAsim that of Mo’tamin billAh (He who trusts in God). Harûn further stipulated that Ma’miin should have as his share, during the lifetime of his brother, the government of the eastern part of the empire. Each of the parties concerned swore to observe faithfully every part of this deed, which the Caliph caused to be hung up in the Ka'ba, imagining that it would be thus guaranteed against all violation on the part of men. These precautions were to be rendered vain by the perfidy of Amin. We shall see hereafter how he kept his oath, and how he expiated his treachery by death.

It was in the following year, at the very moment when the Barmecides thought their position most secure, that HArûn brought sudden ruin upon them. The causes of their disgrace have been differently stated by the annalists. Some relate that the Caliph, preferring to all other society that of his sister 'AbbAsa and of Ja'far b. YahyA, resolved to unite them in marriage, in order to be able to bring them together in his presence without a breach of etiquette. He meant, however, that Ja'far should continue to be only the nominal husband of his sister. Ja'far accepted this condition, but it was not long before he forgot it, and the Caliph learned that his sister had given birth to a son. This, it is said, was the cause of Ja'far’s disgrace, which involved his father and his brother. This story may be true; but the principal cause of the fall of the Barmecides appears to have consisted in the abuses of power of which they had been guilty, and in the sovereign influence which they exercised on those around them. The Barmecides lived in a magnificent palace opposite to that of the Caliph. Seeing one day an extraordinary crowd around the dwelling of his first minister, HArûn was moved to say: “Verily YahyA has taken all business into his own hands; he it is who really exercises supreme power; as for me, I am Caliph only in name.” This secret dissatisfaction was increased by a new act of disobedience on the part of Ja'far. HArûn had ordered him to put to death secretly a member of the house of 'AH, whose intrigues he dreaded. Ja'far allowed the victim to escape, and afterwards swore to the Caliph that his orders had been executed. Soon after, however, information against him was given to Harûn, who, after compelling Ja'far to acknowledge the truth, had his head struck off and brought to him by Masrûr, the chief of his eunuchs. On the very next day YahyA, his son Fadi, and all the other Barmecides, were arrested and imprisoned; all their property was confiscated; and HArûn chose as his prime minister Fadi b. Rabi', who had been his chamberlain.

In the same year, a revolution broke out at Constantinople, which overthrew the Empress Irene, and raised Nicephorus to power. The new emperor had scarcely ascended the throne, when he thought himself strong enough to refuse the payment of tribute, and wrote an insulting lettei’ to HArιin, who contented himself with replying: “Thou shalt not hear, but see, my answer.” He then assembled an army, entered Asia Minor, and took Heraclea, plundering and burning along his whole line of march, till Nicephorus, in his alarm, sued for peace. Scarcely had the Caliph returned into winter quarters, when Nicephorus broke the treaty. Notwithstanding the rigour of the season, HArûn retraced his steps, and this time Nicephorus was compelled to observe his engagements. The year after, a.h. 189 (a.t>. 804- 805), disturbances arose in KhorAsAn. They were caused by the malversations of the governor of that province, 'All b. 'lsA, and the Caliph went in person to Merv to judge of the reality of the complaints which had reached him. 'Ali b. 'ÎsA hastened to meet the Caliph on his arrival at Ray. He brought with him a great quantity of presents, which he distributed with such profusion among the courtiers that every one found a thousand reasons for excusing his conduct. Hârün confirmed him in his post and returned to Baghdad, through which, however, he only passed, and went on to Ra⅛ka on the Euphrates, a city which became his habitual residence. He did not long enjoy the repose which he went there to seek, for Nicephorus again broke the treaty of peace, and the Caliph was obliged to take the field anew. Once more Nicephorus was beaten, and so completely that he was obliged to submit to the very harsh conditions which the victor imposed on him.

Two years later, new disturbances broke out in Khorâsân, where a certain Râfi' b. Laith had revolted. Hârün set out again for that province, accompanied by his son Ma’mün. It was to be his last journey. He was attacked by a tumour in the abdomen, and struggled in vain against this malady, which carried him off a year after his departure, a.h. 193 (a.d. 808-809), just on his arrival at the city of Tιis, the birthplace of the great epic poet of Persia, Firdausi. Hârün was only forty-seven years of age.

6. On the death of Hârün, his minister Fadi b. Rabi' hastened to call together all the troops of the late Caliph, and to lead them back to Baghdad, in order to place them in the hands of the new sovereign, Amin. He even led back the corps which was intended to occupy Khorâsân, and which ought to have fallen to the share of Ma’mün, according to the testament of Hârün. Fadi b. Rabi' thus committed a serious violation of the rights of Ma’mün; but he cared little for this, being chiefly desirous of winning the confidence of the new Caliph. He was quite aware, however, that in thus acting he was making Ma’mün his irreconcilable enemy; and he therefore purposed to use every endeavour to arouse against him the enmity of his brother Amin. He advised him to exclude Ma’mün from the succession, and the Caliph was weak enough to listen to him. Receiving the order to resign his government of Khorâsân and to repair to Baghdad, Ma’mün λvas greatly perplexed; but his tutor and vizier, Fadi b. Sahl, reanimated his courage, and pointed out to him that, if he obeyed the orders of the Caliph, certain death awaited him at Baghdâd. Ma’mün resolved to hold out against Amin, and found pretexts for eluding the orders of his brother and remaining in Khorâsân. Amin, in his anger, caused the testament of his father, which, as we have seen, was preserved in the Ka'ba, to be destroyed, declared, on his own authority, the rights of Ma’mün to the Caliphate to be forfeited, and caused the army to swear allegiance to his own son Müsâ, a child five years of age, on whom he bestowed the title of Nâtik bil-Ha⅛⅛, “He who speaks according to truth” (a.h. 194, a.d. 809-810). On hearing the news, Ma’mün, strong in the rightfulness of his claim, retaliated by suppressing the Caliph’s name in all public acts. Amin immediately despatched to Khorâsân an army of fifty thousand men, under the command of 'Ali b. 'Îsâ. Ma’mün, on his side, raised troops among his faithful people of Khorâsân, and entrusted their command to Tâhir b. Hosain, who displayed remarkable abilities in the war that ensued. In the following year, the two armies met under the walls of Ray, and victory declared for Tâhir. Ma’mün now no longer hesitated to take the title of Caliph. The year after, Amin placed in the field two new armies, commanded respectively by Ahmed b. Mazyad and 'Abdallâh b. Homaid b. Kahtaba. The skilful Tâhir b. Hosain succeeded in creating divisions among the troops of his adversaries, and obtained possession, without striking a blow, of the city of Holwân, an advantage which placed him at the very gates of Baghdüd. Ma’mün immediately sent Tâhir reinforcements under the orders of Harthama b. A'yan, which enabled him to maintain a firm hold on all the conquered territory, and to continue his victorious march to the capital. Reverses naturally lead to fresh reverses. One after the other the provinces fell away from Amin, and he soon found himself in possession of Baghdâd alone, which was speedily invested by the troops of Tâhir and Harthama. That unfortunate capital, though blockaded on every side, made a desperate defence for two years. Ultimately the eastern part of the city fell into the hands of Tâhir, and Amin, deserted by his followers, was compelled to surrender. He resolved to treat with Harthama, as he hated Tâhir; but this step caused his ruin. Tâhir learned by his spies that Harthama was to receive the Caliph in person, and gave orders to a body of horsemen to arrest Amin as he issued from Baghdâd under cover of the night. On the banks of the Tigris, Harthama awaited Amin with a boat, but scarcely had the Caliph set foot in it, when the agents of Tâhir poured on it a storm of arrows and stones. The boat sank, and the Caliph had to make his escape by swimming. But he was closely followed up, and had scarcely left the river when he fell into the hands of his enemies, who shut him up in a hut and went to inform Tâhir of the capture. The victorious general immediately ordered him to be put to death, and the order was carried out. The head of the unfortunate Amin was cut off and sent to Ma’mün, a.h. 198. It was presented to him by his vizier, Fadi b. Sahl, surnamed Dhü Ί-Riyâsatain, or “the man with two governments,” because his master had committed to him both the ministry of λvar and the general administration. Ma’mün, on seeing the head, hid his joy beneath a feigned display of sorrow.

7. On the day following that on which Amin had perished so miserably, Tâhir caused Ma’mün to be proclaimed at Baghdâd. The accession of this prince appeared likely to put an end to the evils of civil war, and to restore to the empire the order necessary for its prosperity. It was not so, however. The reign of Ma’mün—that reign on which art, science, and letters, under the patronage of the Caliph, threw so brilliant a lustre—had a very stormy beginning. Ma’mün was in no haste to remove to Baghdâd, but continued to make Merv his temporary residence. In his gratitude to the two men to whom he owed his throne, he conferred on Tâhir the government of Mesopotamia and Syria, and chose as prime minister of the empire Fadi b. Sahl, who had been already his vizier in the government of Khorâsân. The adherents of 'Ali seized on the elevation of Ma’mün to power as a pretext for fresh revolts at Mecca, at Medina, and in Trâl>. At Cufa a certain Ibn Tabâtabâ also broke out into open rebellion, and placed an army in the field under one of his partisans, Abü Ί-Sarâyâ. Hasan b. Sahl, brother of Ma’mün’s prime minister, who had been made governor of all the provinces conquered by Tâhir, immediately sent troops against Cufa. They were defeated, and Abü Ί-Sarâyâ, encouraged by this first success, and no longer finding a secondary part sufficient for his ambition, poisoned his chief Ibn Tabâtabâ, and put in his place another of the family of 'AH, Mohammed b. Mohammed, whom, on account of his extreme youth, he hoped to govern at his will. Fresh troops sent against Abü Ί-Sarâyâ fared no better than the first, and several cities of Trâk, as Basra, Wâsit, and Madâin, fell into the hands of the rebels. ’ Abü Ί-Sarâyâ was already marching against Baghdâd, when Hasan b. Sahl, in great alarm, hastily recalled Harthama b. A'yan, one of the heroes of the civil war, who was already on his way back to Merv. As soon as this general had returned from Khorâsân, the face of affairs changed. The adherents of 'Ali were everywhere driven back, and the whole of 'Irâk fell again into the hands of the 'Abbâsids. Cufa was taken by assault, and both Abü Ί-Sarâyâ and Mohammed b. Mohammed were made prisoners. The former had his head struck off; the latter was sent to Khorâsân. The revolt in Arabia was also quickly stifled, and it might have been supposed that peace was about to be re-established. This, however, was by no means the case. The civil war had caused a swarm of vagabonds to spring, as it were, from underground at Baghdad. They proceeded to treat the capital as a conquered city; and such was their audacity that they plundered houses and carried off women and children at mid-day. It became necessary for all good citizens to organize themselves into a regular militia, in order to master these ruffians. Meanwhile, at Merv, Ma’mùn was adopting a decision -which fell like a thunderbolt on the 'Abbâsids. In a.h. 201 (a.d. 816-817), under pretence of putting an end to the continual revolts of the partisans of 'Ali, and acting on the advice of his prime minister, Fadi, he publicly designated as his successor in the Caliphate 'Ali b. Mùsâ, a direct descendant of Hosain the son of 'Ali, and proscribed black, the colour of the 'Abbâsids, in favour of that of the house of 'Ali, green. This step was well calculated to delight the followers of 'Ali, but it naturally could not fail to exasperate the 'Abbâsids and their partisans. The people of Baghdâd refused to take the oath to 'Ali b. Mùsâ as heir-presumptive, declared Ma’mùn deposed, and elected his uncle Ibrâhîm, son of Mahdi, to the Caliphate. The news reached the Caliph only indirectly, for his minister Fadi, desiring to leave Ma’mùn only the shadow of power, kept all important events carefully from his knowledge. The eyes of the Caliph were opened, and he now perceived that Fadi had been treating him as a puppet. His anger knew no bounds. Fadi was one day found murdered, and 'Ali b. Mùsâ died suddenly. The historians bring no open accusation against Ma’mùn of having got rid of these two personages; but it seems clear that it was not chance that did him such a seasonable service. Ma’mùn of course affected the profoundest grief, and, in order to disarm suspicion, appointed as his prime minister the brother of Fadi, Hasan b. Sahl, whose daughter Bùrân he also afterwards married. But on the other hand, in order to quiet the people of Baghdâd, he wrote to them: “The cause of your dissatisfaction in the business of 'Ali b. Mùsâ no longer exists; since he who was the object of your resentment has just died.” From that moment the pseudocaliph Ibrâhîm found himself deserted, and was obliged to seek safety in concealment. His precarious reign had, however, lasted nearly two years. Ma’mùn now decided on making a public entry into Baghdâd, but to show that he came as a master, he still displayed for several days the green flag of the house of 'Ali, though at last, at the entreaty of his courtiers, he consented to resume the black. From this time the real reign of Ma’mùn began, freed as he now was from the guardianship of Facll. His general Tâhir alone continued to excite his suspicions. Under the pretence that he could no longer endure the sight of the murderer of his brother, he removed Tâhir to a distance by appointing him governor of Khorâsân. Like most of the great Moslem generals, Tâhir, it is said, conceived the project of creating an independent kingdom for himself. His death, a.h. 207, prevented its realization; but as his descendants succeeded him one after the other in the post of governor, he may be said to have really founded a dynasty in Khorâsân. When, two years later, the impostor Bâbak set up a communistic sect in Armenia and Azerbaijân, it was a son of Tâhir, 'Abdallâh, who was commissioned by Ma’mùn to put him down. Notwithstanding his ability, 'Abdallâh could not accomplish the task, and it was only under Ma’mùn’s successor that Bâbak was taken and put to death.

Ever since Ma’mùn’s entry into Baghdâd, the pseudocaliph Ibrâhîm had led a wandering life. He was arrested one night in Baghdâd, under the disguise of a woman, and brought before Ma’mùn. The latter generously pardoned him, and also granted an amnesty to the former minister of Amin, Fadi b. Rabi', although he had been the chief promoter of the terrible civil war which had so lately shaken the empire. After that time, Ibrâhîm the son of Mahdi lived peacefully at the court, cultivating the arts of singing and music, in which he excelled.

Tranquillity being now everywhere re-established, Ma ’- mùn gave himself up, without hindrance, to his scientific and literary tastes. He caused works on mathematics, astronomy, medicine, and philosophy, to be translated from the Greek. It was also by his orders that two learned mathematicians undertook the measurement of a degree of the earth’s circumference. Ma’mùn interested himself, too, in questions of religious dogma. Shocked at the opinion which had spread among the Moslem doctors, that the Koran was the uncreated word of God, he published an edict commanding them to renounce this error. Several distinguished doctors, and, among others, the celebrated Ibn Hanbal, founder of one of the four orthodox Moslem sects, were obliged to appear before an inquisitorial tribunal; and as they persisted in their belief respecting the Koran, they were thrown into prison. Meanwhile, war having broken out between the Greeks and the Moslems, Ma’mùn set out for Asia Minor, to put himself at the head of his army. On his arrival at Tarsus, he received from the governor of Baghdâd the report of the tribunal of inquisition, and ordered that the culprits should be sent off to him. Happily for these unfortunate doctors, they had scarcely started on the road to the frontiers, when news of the Caliph’s death reached Baghdâd. Ma’mùn having bathed in the Podendon, a burning fever was the result, which brought him to the grave in a.h. 218 (a.d. 833). Before his death, he designated as his successor his brother Mo'tasim billâh, (He who seeks defence in God), whom he had for a long time preferred to Mo’tamin.

8. The accession of the new Caliph Mo'tasim met at: first with active opposition in the army, where a powerful 1 party had been formed in favour of 'Abbâs, the son of Ma’mùn. Thanks, however, to the disinterested conduct of that prince, civil war was averted. 'Abbâs publicly renounced all pretension to the Caliphate, and took the oath of allegiance to his uncle. Mo’tamin, the son of Hârùn, imitated the conduct of 'Abbâs, and the whole army accepted Mo'tasim, who made his public entry into Baghdâd in the month of Ramadan 218.

The new Caliph, far from putting a stop to the persecution which had been directed against the orthodox doctors, took up and carried out the views of Ma’mùn. The doctor Ibn Hanbal was beaten with rods and thrown into prison, together with several of his companions, and was not restored to liberty till the Caliphate of Motawakkil. This persecution had already prejudiced the people against Mo'tasim, and their discontent became more marked when the Caliph created a new body of troops, specially intended to watch over his person. This new guard was composed of Turks, an unbridled and undisciplined body of soldiery, who, moreover, held in open contempt the religious precepts of Islam. Tired of the excesses of every kind committed by the Turks, the people of Baghdâd rose in insurrection, and Mo'tasim, not daring to act with severity either against his guard or the citizens, took the course of quitting the city. Leaving the government of the capital in the hands of his son Wâthik billâh (He who trusts in God), he established himself with his guard at Sâmarra, a small place situated a few leagues above Baghdâd, and changed its name to Sorra-man-ra’a (He rejoices who sees it). This resolution of Mo'tasim was destined to prove fatal to his dynasty; for it placed the Caliphs at the mercy of their Praetorians. In fact, from the time of Mo'tasim, the Caliphate became the plaything of the Turkish guard, and its decline was continuous. Some glorious feats of arms, however, were still performed under Mo'tasim. The sectary Bâbak was at last taken by Afshin, a Turkish general of the Caliph, in the year 223 (a.d. 837-838). Bâbak was carried to Baghdâd, led through the city on the back of an elephant, and then delivered to the executioners, who cut off his arms and his legs. Afshin, however, was very ill rewarded for his services, for shortly afterwards the Caliph had him put to death on a charge of heresy.

The death of Ma’miin had for the moment suspended hostilities with Constantinople; under Mo'tasim the war was rekindled. A valiant Greek general, Manuel, who had incurred the displeasure of the Emperor Theophilus, took refuge with the Caliph, who eagerly welcomed him and gave him a command. Manuel began by reducing Khorâsân, which had risen in revolt, and Mo'tasim was so well satisfied with him that he thought of employing him against his own countrymen. This was precisely what Theophilus dreaded, and he took measures accordingly to bring back the banished general to his side. He sent an ambassador to Mo'tasim, under pretence of ransoming some Greek prisoners; but the real object of his mission, which he contrived to communicate to Manuel, was the recall of that general. Manuel, feigning great animosity against his country, himself asked to be allowed to lead a Moslem army into Cappadocia. The Caliph granted his request, and sent with him his own son Wâthik billâh. But, as soon as they reached the frontiers of Cappadocia, Manuel confessed to the young prince that his intention was to return to Constantinople, and quitted the army. Theophilus, taking advantage of the confusion into which the departure of Manuel had thrown the Moslems, made an incursion into Syria, laid waste that province as far as Zabatra, and returned loaded with booty. At the news of this disaster, Mo'tasim assembled a formidable army, estimated at more than two hundred thousand men, penetrated into Asia Minor, beat the Greeks, and took the city of Amorium, which he ordered to be razed to the ground. A revolt which broke out at Baghdâd in favour of his nephew 'Abbâs, the son of Ma’mùn, compelled the Caliph to turn back. Mo'tasim had the unfortunate 'Abbâs arrested, and he was soon after found dead in his prison. Mo'tasim survived him only four years. He died at Sorra-man-ra’a, in a.h. 227 (a.d. 841-842).

9. His son Wâthik, who succeeded him, showed himself no less intolerant on the doctrinal question of the uncreated Koran. He carried his zeal to such a point that, on the occasion of an exchange of Greek against Moslem prisoners, in the year 231 (a.d. 845-846), he ordered that all the Moslem captives who would not declare their belief that the Koran was a human work, should be left in the hands of the enemy. The reign of Wâthik billâh was not otherwise marked by any very striking events. He died in 232 (a.d. 846-847), after a reign of five years. As he had appointed no successor before his death, the principal personages of the state at first cast their eyes on his son Mohammed; but they had scarcely saluted him with the title of Caliph, when they changed their purpose, and offered the supreme power to Motawakkil 'ala ’llâh (He who trusts to God), brother of Wâthik. This prince was therefore elected in the same year in which Wâthik died.

10. The first act of Motawakkil was an atrocious cruelty. He seized Mohammed b. 'Abd al-Melik, his brother’s vizier, who had always been his enemy, and ordered him to be placed in a furnace bristling within with iron points, which was then raised to a red heat. The Caliph looked on at the agonies of his victim, incessantly repeating: “Pity is a weakness.” This had been the favourite maxim of the unfortunate vizier. An impostor named. Mohammed b. Faraj had set himself up as a prophet, giving out that he was Moses risen from the dead. By means of this gross fabrication, he had contrived to attract twenty-seven followers. The Caliph had him seized, and condemned him to perpetual imprisonment; but first he compelled each of the followers of Mohammed to give the pretended prophet ten blows on the head with his fist; and the poor wretch expired under the hands of his own disciples, (a.h. 235, a.d. 849-850.)

In the year of his elevation to the Caliphate, Motawakkil had regulated the succession to the empire in his own family, by designating as future Caliphs his three sons, Montasir billâh (He who seeks help in God), Mo'tazz billâh (Strong through God), and Mowayyad billâh (Assisted by God). In acting thus, his object was to protest against the tendency of his predecessors to favour the house of 'Ali, and to guard against the attainment of the Caliphate by any member of that house. Motawakkil displayed the most extreme hatred for the descendants of the Prophet. He even went so far as to destroy the chapel erected over the tomb of Hosain at Kerbelâ, and forbade the Shi'ites to visit the spot. Not content with attacking the liberty and the property of the descendants of 'Ali, he insulted their belief, by taking buffoons into his pay, whose business it was to turn the person of 'Ali into mockery. He also persecuted the Christians and the Jews; excluding them from all public employments, and obliging them to send their children to Moslem schools. In the year 237, a revolt broke out in Armenia. The Caliph sent the Turk Bugha against the rebels; but they met him with a vigorous resistance, and it was four years before peace was restored to the province. During that time the Greeks effected a descent on Egypt, and Damietta was taken and burned. Motawakkil caused Damietta to be fortified, and transferred his own residence to Damascus, doubtless that he might be able to keep a closer watch on the proceedings of the Byzantines. He soon thought himself strong enough to take the offensive, and poured his Turkish soldiery into Asia Minor, where they encountered the same Manuel who had been formerly received at the court of Mo'tasim. After an alternation of successes and reverses, both Moslems and Greeks retired from the conflict. Motawakkil then returned to his residence at Sorra-man-ra’a, and there caused a magnificent quarter to be built, which he called Ja'fariyya. There he gave himself up to debaucheries; till at last, during one of his orgies, he was murdered by a Turkish soldier named Wasif, who had been bribed to the deed by his own son Montasir billâh (a.h. 247, a.d. 861-862).

11. On the very night of his father’s assassination Montasir had himself proclaimed Caliph. The conspirators among the Turkish soldiery compelled him to deprive his two brothers, Mo'tazz and Mowayyad, who were not agreeable to them, of their rights of succession. Montasir did not long enjoy the fruits of his crime. He died five months after, by poison, it is said.

12. The Turkish soldiery, which now arrogated to itself the mastery over the Caliphate, chose in succession to Montasir his cousin Ahmed, who took the title of Mosta'in billâh (He who looks for help to God). Under the reign of this feeble prince, the Greeks inflicted serious losses on the Moslems in Asia Minor. The Turkish soldiery, instead of attempting to repair these losses, revolted against the Caliph whom they had themselves chosen, and plundered the city of Sorra-man-ra’a. Taking advantage of these disorders, a descendant of 'Ali, named Hasan, gained possession of Tabaristân and Jorjân, and permanently deprived the Eastern Caliphate of those provinces. At the same time, insurrections sprang up in every part of the empire. Next, the chiefs of the Turkish soldiery, in their mutual jealousies, began to tear each other to pieces. The infatuated Caliph fled from Sorra-man-ra’a, and took refuge at Baghdâd. The Turks now resolved on his destruction, and forgetting that they themselves had deprived Mo'tazz billâh, brother of Montasir, of his legitimate rights, chose him as their Caliph. They next placed at their head a brother of Mo'tazz, named Mowaffak billâh, and besieged Mosta'fn at Baghdâd. At the end of one month (a.h. 252, A.D. 866), Mosta'fn surrendered, and was put to death.

13. Mo'tazz billâh, thus called to the throne by the very men who had previously sought to exclude him from it, resolved to free himself from the yoke of the formidable Turkish soldiery which thus made and unmade Caliphs. But to maintain a struggle against such terrible adversaries, the new sovereign would have needed an ability and energy which he did not possess. He made, indeed, a very impolitic beginning in getting rid of his brothers Mowayyad and Mowaffak, of whom he put the former to death, and drove the latter into exile. Some time after, it is true, he had the satisfaction of seeing Wasif, one of the chiefs of the Turkish soldiery, lose his life in a mutiny of his own troops; and that of defeating in person another chief, Bugha, whom he afterwards caused to be beheaded. But in the following year (a.h. 254), the Turks chose as their leaders the sons of Wasif and Bugha, Sâlih and Mohammed, who avenged their fathers by plundering the palace of the prime minister and besieging that of the Caliph, whom they seized and threw into close confinement, where he died of hunger and thirst, A.H. 255.

14. Immediately after the fall of Mo'tazz, the Turks brought from Baghdâd one of the sons of Wâthik billâh, and proclaimed him Caliph, with the title of Mohtadi billâh (Guided by God). Mohtadi, a man of noble and generous spirit, exerted himself, but in vain, to release his predecessor from prison. Having failed in this, he kept the precarious measure of power which his masters left him, and applied it to the regeneration of Moslem society, the decay of which appeared to him imminent. He forbade wine and games of chance; he devoted himself to the administration of justice; he examined in person every sentence passed by the judges, and gave public audience to the people twice a week for the redress of their grievances. The farmers of the revenue were subjected to strict control, and the taxes were considerably lightened. It seemed as if these reforms were likely to re-establish order and prosperity in the empire. But Mohtadi came too late, and the Turks did not leave him time to finish his work. Sâlih, one of the chiefs of the Turkish soldiery, having been assassinated by a rival, Mohtadi punished the guilty person with rigour. The Turks, in their rage, beset the palace and slaughtered the unfortunate Caliph (a.h. 256, a.γ>. 870).

15. Whether from weariness, or from repentance, the Turkish soldiery discontinued for a time their hateful excesses. A son of Motawakkil was brought out of prison to succeed his cousin, and reigned for twenty-two years under the name of Mo'tamid 'ala ’llâh (He whose support is God). During his reign two great events took place, tokens and precursors of the dissolution of the Caliphate. Eastern Persia and Egypt separated themselves by force from the empire, and two new dynasties established themselves in these countries, those respectively of the Saffârids and the Tülûnids. The founder of the former, Ya'kùb b. Laith, was the son of a coppersmith (Saffâr). At the head of a band of resolute men, he invaded successively Khorâsân, Kirmân, and Sijistân, and at last the Caliph Mo'tamid, powerless to arrest his progress, was obliged to give an official recognition to accomplished facts. But Ya'kub was not satisfied with this; he soon possessed himself of Tabaristân, Fârsistân, and Ahwâz, and thence marched against Baghdâd. Fortune, however, deserted him; he was beaten in the neighbourhood of Wâsit (a.h. 262), and compelled to return to Persia in order to levy a new army there. In 265 he resumed his march against Baghdâd, but was obliged by sickness to halt at Jondis-âbùr, where he died; not, however, till he had obtained from the Caliph a formal investiture of all the provinces he had conquered. He was succeeded by his brother 'Amr. On the other side, a certain Ahmed b. Τύΐύη, the son of a freedman, who had obtained from the Caliph the post of governor of Egypt, planned the creation for himself of an independent kingdom. Under Mo'tamid he even invaded Syria, and perhaps would have pushed his conquests still farther, had not death overtaken him in a.h. 270 (a.d. 883-884). His son Khomarûya succeeded him in Egypt, and though, at a later period, he submitted to pay tribute to Mo'tadid, nevertheless a dynasty had been founded in that country -which lasted for twenty-one years longer. Mo'tamid died eight years after Ahmed b. Τύΐύη.

16. The reign of Mo'tadid billâh (He who seeks his support in God), who succeeded his uncle Mo'tamid, is principally remarkable for the rise of the celebrated sect of the Carmathians (Karâmita), who for two centuries laid waste the Moslem empire, and for the extinction of the Saffârid dynasty in Persia, where it was replaced by that of the Sâmânids. Some details respecting the origin and the creed of the Carmathians will be found in the third section of this article. We shall content ourselves here with stating the fact that these sectaries, who were numerous in’ 'Irâk, Syria, and Eastern Arabia, kept in check all the armies which were sent against them. Under the reign of Mo'tadid they invaded Mecca and committed great ravages there. In a.h. 281, Mo'tadid repaired the disasters which they had caused there, and raised important works about the Ka'ba. Mo'tadid died in 289 (a.d. 902), leaving the throne to his son Moktafi billâh.

17. Moktafi billâh (He who sufficeth himself in God) reigned for six years, during which he had constantly to struggle against the Carmathians. One of his generals, indeed, gained a signal victory over these sectaries; but, to avenge their defeat, they lay in wait for a caravan which was on its return from Mecca, and massacred twenty thousand pilgrims. This horrible crime raised the whole of Arabia against them. The Carmathians were beaten again, and Dhikrùya, one of their ablest generals, was taken and put to death. The sectaries remained quiet for some time, and the Caliph took advantage of this respite to take Egypt from the house of Τύΐύη, and to confer its government on the Ikhshidites. Moktafi died a.h. 295 (a.d. 907-908). His activity and energy revived for a moment the prestige of the Caliphate; but this fleeting renewal of its greatness was soon to disappear, and decay resumed its course.

18. The new Caliph, Moktadir billâh (Powerful through God), was only thirteen years of age when he ascended 1 the throne. His extreme youth prejudiced the people of Baghdâd against him; they rebelled, and swore allegiance to 'Abdallâh, son of the former Caliph Mo'tazz; but the party of Mo⅛tadir prevailed, and his rival was put to death. Moktadir, however, was too young to exercise any real power; he was governed by his eunuchs. He was, besides, a man of feeble character, and looked on helplessly at the death-struggle of the empire, upon which calamities of every kind now poured in. The Greeks invaded Mesopotamia. A truce was concluded with them; but the Carmathians then recommenced their disorders in Syria. The indolence of the Caliph, and his inaction in the face of this danger, alienated all hearts from him; and the eunuch Mûnis, the principal chief of his party,'took the lead in deposing him and proclaiming in his stead his brother Kâhir billâh (Victorious through God), in the year 317 (a.d. 929-930). Kâhir, however, having refused to distribute a donative to the army on the occasion of his accession, a counter-revolution took place, and Moljtadir, who had been imprisoned, was taken from his dungeon and replaced on the throne, only three days after his deposition. Favoured by these disturbances, the governor of Mosul, Nâsir al-Daula, declared himself independent, and founded definitively the dynasty of the Hamdânites; thus causing an additional dismemberment of the empire. The Carmathians in their turn, under the guidance of a new chief, Abù Tahir, obtained possession of Mecca, and carried off the celebrated black stone of the Ka'ba, which they did not restore till very long afterwards. Meanwhile the eunuch Mûnis had been disgraced. He withdrew at first to Mosul, to the court of Nâsir al-Daula; but it was to raise an army and march upon Baghdâd, where the Caliph had again fixed his abode. The object of Mûnis was not to attack the Caliph, but only to take vengeance on his personal enemies. Moktadir was induced by evil counsellors to make a sally against Mûnis. His troops were put to the rout, and he himself fell on the field of battle, in the year 320 (a.d. 932).

With the reign of Moktadir is connected one of the greatest events in the history of the Caliphate, the foundation of the Fâtimite dynasty, which reigned, first in the Maghrib and then in Egypt, for nearly three centuries. The first of this family who put forward any pretensions to the Caliphate was Obaid Allâh, surnamed the Mahdi, or Messiah of the followers of 'All, who gave himself out as a direct descendant of 'AH, through his wife Fâtima, the daughter of Mohammed, whence the name of Fâtimite. It seems to be proved that Obaid Allah was really descended from a certain 'Abdallâh b. Maimûn el-Kaddâh, the founder of the Ismailian sect, of which the Carmathians were only a branch. This Obaid Allâh had himself become pontiff of the Ismailians. As early as the Caliphate of Moktafi, one of Obaid Allâh’s missionaries, named Abû 'Abdallah, had succeeded in gaining numerous partisans in the province of Africa, then subject to the Aghlabites, and the victories of this missionary had wrested Eastern Africa from the family of Aghlab when Mo⅛tadir ascended the throne. Obaid Allâh then repaired to his new realm (a.ħ. 303), and founded the city of Mahdiya, which he made his capital. He tried also, but without success, to seize Egypt; the conquest of that country was reserved for one of his successors, Mo'izz 1 i-din-illâh. Obaid Allâh died two years after Moktadir, leaving to his son Kâim an empire already sufficiently powerful to cause uneasiness to the 'Abbâsids, to the Omayyads of Spain, and to all the Christian princes whose states bordered on the Mediterranean.

19. Kâhir billâh, on being raised anew to the throne after the death of his∙brother Moktadir, still bore ill-will to his patrons, and tried to free himself from their guardianship. The emirs of his court dethroned him a second time and put out his eyes. One of his nephews was then proclaimed Caliph under the name of Râdt billâh (Content through God). This prince, who was entirely governed by those about his person, created, in favour of a certain Abûbekr Mohammed b. Râilj, the office of Amir al-Omarâ, or Emir of the Emirs, which nearly corresponds to that of Mayor of the Palace among the Franks. The Amir al-Omarâ was charged with the administration of civil and military affairs. He also acted as the Caliph’s deputy in sacerdotal functions, and was named next after him in the public prayers. Thenceforth the Caliphate was no longer anything but an empty shadow. During the reigns of Kâhir and Râdf, the Carmathians became more audacious than ever. The Amir al-Omarâ was obliged to purchase from them the freedom of pilgrimage to Mecca at the price of a disgraceful treaty. Thus the Caliphate found itself almost reduced to the province of Baghdâd. Khorâsân, Transoxiana, Kirmân, and Persia were in the hands of independent sovereigns, the Sâmânids, the Bûyids, and a prince named Washimgfr. The Hamdânites possessed Mesopotamia; the Sâjites, Armenia; Egypt was under the rule of the Ikhshfdites; Arabia was held by the Carmathians; Africa, as we have seen, had become the prey of the Fâtimites. The single transient success obtained by Râdf was the capture of Mosul in a.h. 328 (a.d. 939-40); and even this success he owed to the Turk Bejkem, who had succeeded Mohammed b. Râik as Amir al-Omarâ.

Râdf died in the following year, and was succeeded by Mottaki lillâh (He who fears God). From his very accession, this prince saw himself exposed to the attacks of a certain Al-Barfdi, who had carved out for himself a principality in Chaldaea, and who now laid siege to Baghdâd. Nâsir al-Daula, prince of Mosul, who had been reinstated in his government, offered an asylum to Mottaki; put his troops at his disposal, and succeeded in repelling Al-Baridi. In return he obtained the office of Amir al-Omarâ. But there were other competitors for that post. Turun, a former lieutenant of Bejkem, protested sword in hand against the choice of the Caliph, and threatened Baghdâd. Ikhshid, sovereign of Egypt, offered Mottaki a refuge in his states; but Turun, fearing to see the Caliph obtain such powerful support, found means to entice him to his tent, and had his eyes put out, a.h. 333 (a.d. 944-945).

As successor to Mottaki, Turun chose Mostakfi billâh (He who places his whole trust in God). This prince, like his predecessors, was a mere puppet in the hands of his ministers. A new Amir al-Omarâ, Zirak b. Shirzâd, made himself so hateful to the people of Baghdâd by his deeds of violence and rapacity that they besought the help of the Bûyids. Ahmed, the third prince of that dynasty, entered Baghdâd, overthrew Zirak, and took his place under the title of Mo'izz al-Daula. Mostakfi soon had enough of this new master, and ventured to conspire against him. The plot was discovered, and Mo'izz al-Daula had the eyes of the Caliph put out. There were now at Baghdâd three Caliphs who had been dethroned and blinded—Kâhir, Mottaki, and Mostakfi. Mo'izz al-Daula thought for a moment of restoring the illusory title of Caliph to the descendants of 'Ali. He feared, however, lest this should lead to the recovery by the Caliphs of their former supremacy, and his choice fell on a son of Moktadir under the name of Moti' lillâh (He who obeys God). Reserving to himself all the powers and revenues of the Caliph, he allowed Moti' merely a secretary and a moderate pension. The prince of Mosul, who began to think his possessions threatened by the neighbourhood of Mo'izz, entered on a struggle with him and tried to wrest Baghdâd from him; but he failed, and was obliged to submit to the payment of tribute. We have said above that Mo'izz al-Daula professed a great veneration for the house of 'All. His preference showed itself in public acts. He caused the most terrible imprecations against the Omayyads to be posted up at the doors of the mosques. This step irritated men’s minds; and a general insurrection was imminent at Baghdâd, when Mo'izz died (a.h. 356), leaving his power to his son 'Izz al-Daula.

While the 'Abbâsid family was thus dying out in shame and degradation, the Fâtimites, in the person of Mo'izz li-din-illâh, were reaching the highest degree of power and glory (see Egypt, vol. vii. p. 750 sqq.') Jauhar, a general of Mo'izz li-din-illâh, conquered Egypt for his master, and Arabia acknowledged the sovereignty of the Fâtimites. The Carmathians, who had so long contended against the 'Abbâsids, now came to better terms with Moti', and their general made the Caliph the offer of driving back the Fâtimites, on condition of his granting him the government of Egypt. Moti' preferred to stand neutral in the struggle; and the Carmathian general, who with the support of Moti' might perhaps have triumphed over Mo'izz, was beaten by his powerful rival. Moti', having been struck by paralysis, was obliged to abdicate in the year 363 (a.d. 973-974), and left the empty title of Caliph to his son Tâi' li-amr-illâh (Obedient to the command of God). The new Caliph lived at first in peace, for it was now the office of Amir al-Omarâ which provoked ill-will. Under the reign of Tâi' the Bιiyid princes contended furiously with one another for the office of Emir, and one of them, 'Adod al-Daula, having conquered 'Izz al-Daula, took the title, never before employed, of Shâhinshâh, or king of kings. On his death he transmitted his office to his three sons, who held it successively, under the names of Shams al-Daula, Sharaf al-Daula, and Bahâ al-Daula. The last, who was as avaricious as he was ambitious, took offence at the Caliph Tâi' for having disposed of certain sums of money, of which he wished to reserve the management to himself, compelled him to abdicate in a.h. 381, and replaced him by a grandson of Moktadir, who took the name of Kâdir billâh (Powerful through God), and reigned forty one years under the tutelage of the Bùyids. Meanwhile events were preparing the fall of the Bùyids. In Persia, Mahmιid of Ghazni was founding the powerful empire of the Ghaz-nevids, which extended to the Indus, and the Seljι⅛ Turks were already invading Khorâsân. It was under the successor of Kâdir billâh that that sanguinary revolution took place, which was to give over the government of Baghdâd to the Seljùks.

Kâdir billâh died in a.h. 422 (a.d. 1030-31), and was succeeded by Kâim bi-amr-illâh (He who is charged with the business of God). The new Caliph, groaning under the iron hand of his Amir al-Omarâ, called to his aid the Seljùk Toghril Beg, who entered Baghdâd in the month of Ramadan in the year 447 (a.d. 1055- 1056), overthrew the Bùyids, and took their place. Some years later, Toghril married the daughter of the Caliph. At his death, Toghril left to his nephew Alp Arslân the title of Sultan, a flourishing empire, and uncontrolled power. As for Kâim, he enjoyed the Caliphate in peace under the tutelage of Alp Arslân and of his successor Malik Shâh, till his death in a.h. 467. His grandson, Moktadi bi-amr-illâh (He who obeys the orders of God), who succeeded him, owed to the power of Malik Shâh the honour of recovering his supremacy in Arabia. At Medina and Mecca his name was substituted in the public prayers for those of the Fâtimite Caliphs. This was, after all, a mere gratification to his vanity, for Malik Shâh was the real sovereign, and the Caliph thought himself highly honoured in marrying the daughter of his powerful patron. This union, however, far from drawing closer the bonds of friendship between Malik Shâh and Moktadi, became on the contrary a cause of strife. The Caliph having put away his wife, who had wearied him by her peevish humours, was compelled by Malik Shâh to appoint the child whom he had had by her as his successor, to the prejudice of his eldest son. Malik Shâh also exiled his son-in-law to Basra. Just, however, as this order was about to be carried out, Malik Shâh died. Moktadi survived him only a few months. It was during the reign of his successor Mostazhir billâh (a.h. 487-512) that the first crusade took place. We need not here enter into the details of those wars. It is sufficient to say that from the date of the first crusade Baghdâd ceases, so to speak, to have any special history. The successors of Mostazhir billâh (He who seeks to triumph through God) were—Mostarshid billâh (He who asks guidance from God), A.H. 512-529; Râshid billâh (Just through God), a.h. 529- 530; Moktafi li-amr-illâh (He who follows the orders of God), A.H. 530-555; Mostanjid billâh (He who invokes help from God), a.h. 555-566; and Mostadf bi-amr-illâh (He who seeks enlightenment in the orders of God), a.h. 566-575. Under this last, the Fâtimite dynasty was at length destroyed, and Egypt fell again under the spiritual authority of the Caliphs of Baghdâd. It was one of the generals of the Emir Nιir al-din, the celebrated Salâh al-din (Saladin), who made this important conquest in a.h. 567 (a.d. 1171-1172). He maintained himself in Egypt as Sultan, founded a new dynasty, that of the Ayyιibites, and in some sort compelled Nâsir li-din-illâh (He who helps the religion of God), the successor of Mostadi’ (a.h. 575-622), to acknowledge his title and to ratify his usurpation.

A still more formidable danger was now threatening Baghdâd. The terrible Jinghiz Khân was issuing from the depths of Asia at the head of his Mongols, and was beginning to invade Transoxiana. Under Nâsir li-din-illâh’s successors, Zâhir billâh (Victorious through God), A.H. 622-623, and Mostansir billâh (He who asks help from God), a.h. 623-640, the Mongol invasion advanced with immense strides; and when, after them, Mosta'sim billâh (He who seeks his defence in God) was named Caliph in the year 640 (a.d. 1242-1243), the last days of the Caliphate had arrived. Hulâgu, who was then sovereign of the Mongols, determined to make himself master of the whole of Western Asia. He placed himself at the head of his immense hordes, swept everything before him on his march, and arrived under the walls of Baghdâd. In vain did Mosta'sim sue for peace. The siege was actively pursued, and on the 29th of Moharram 656 (5th February 1258), the Mongols forced their way into Baghdâd and planted the standard of Hulâgu on the highest of its towers. The city was given up to fire and slaughter; Mosta'sim was thrown into prison, and died there a few days after; and with him expired the Eastern Caliphate, which had lasted 626 years, from the death of Mohammed.

In vain, three years later, did a scion of the race of the 'Abbâsids, who had taken refuge in Egypt, make an effort to restore a dynasty which was now for ever extinct. At the head of a few followers, he marched against Baghdâd, but was repulsed by the governor of that city, and died fighting. At a later period, another descendant of the 'Abbâsids also sought an asylum in Egypt. The Sultan Baibars, after a judicial investigation of his origin, proclaimed him Caliph under the name of Hâkim bi-amr-illâh. His sons inherited this empty title, but, like their father, remained in Egypt, without power or influence. This shadow of sovereignty continued to exist till the conquest of Egypt by the Turks.

[table]

Sect. HI.— Sketch of the Institutions and Civilization of the Eastern Caliphate.

Mohammed had begun to bestow political unity on Arabia; but he had done still more: he had given her the Koran, as the starting-point and base of the future civilization of Islam. It was for the preservation and the better understanding of the sacred text that the first believers were led to create grammar and lexicography, and to make collections of the poems of their own and former times, those “witnesses of the meaning of words,” as the Arabs call them. To elucidate questions of dogma they created theology. Jurisprudence, in like manner, issued from the Koran, and the historical sciences at first gathered around it. As early as the first century of the Flight, schools were founded in 'Irâk, at Basra and at Cufa, in which all the questions to which the study of the Koran gave rise were stated, and answered in different ways. Natural science and mathematics were less directly concerned with the sacred book, and were consequently neglected during the whole period of the Omayyad dynasty. They only began to be cultivated when, under the 'Abbâsids, the study of philosophy led to the use of translations from the Greek. The institutions of Islam were developed, no doubt, as new wants made themselves felt, in proportion to the extension of the empire; but they were nevertheless founded on the first arrangements made by the Prophet, and handed down by him in the Koran.

Under the first four Caliphs these institutions continued in a rudimentary state. The Caliph (Khalifa y substitute or successor) was elected by the Moslem community; and, after receiving from all its members the oath of fidelity (Bai a) which they were bound to take, united the temporal and spiritual powers in his own hands. He was at the same time high priest, ruler, and judge. He was compelled, however, by the very extent of the empire to delegate his powers to those agents ( t Amil, plural t 0mm<iΓ) whom he commissioned to represent him in the provinces. The State revenues, which entered the public treasury (Bait al-màÎ), were composed—(1) of the tithe, or tax for the poor (Zakât), which every Moslem was bound to pay; (2) of the fifth, raised on all booty taken in war, the rest being divided among the warriors; (3) of the poll-tax (Jizyd) and the land-tax (Kharâj), which only affected nonMoslem subjects. The Caliph administered the revenues of the State at his own pleasure, applying them to the necessities of war, to public works, to the payment of officials, to the support of the poor, and to the distribution of the annual pensions, in which every Moslem had originally a right to share. The State could possess landed property. Under Omar I. we find that the pasture land belonging to the State supported not less than forty thousand camels and horses. To Omar I. was due the regulation of the poll-tax by a fixed scale. The rich, whether Christians or Jews, paid four dinârs (about thirty-two shillings) yearly; people of the middle class, two dfnârs; the poor, one dinâr. Besides this payment in money, the subject-races had to make contributions in kind, intended for the support of the troops. The land-tax consisted of a general rent in proportion to the extent, character, and fertility of the lands possessed by the conquered.

As the sums produced by these different imposts were often very considerable, it became necessary, as early as the Caliphate of Omar I., to create a special office, charged with the accounts of their expenditure. Its organization was borrowed by Omar from the Persians, and it retained its Persian name of Dfwân, a term afterwards applied to all government offices. The Arabs at that time being too illiterate for such employment, the task of keeping the registers of the Diwân was entrusted to Greeks, Copts, and Persians. Omar also gave his attention to the apportionment of the individual pensions of the Faithful. Every one received a larger or smaller sum according to the greater or less nearness of his connexion with the family, or the tribe, of the Prophet. Thus 'Aisha, who had been the favourite wife of Mohammed, received a yearly pension of twelve thousand dirhems; the other widows of the Prophet only received ten thousand. The Hàshimites and Mottalibites, that is, the members of the Prophet’s family, also received ten thousand dirhems. The Emigrants and the Defenders, or those citizens of Mecca and Medina who had been the first to embrace Islam, had five thousand dirhems; and that was the sum which Omar I. allotted to himself. For every other Moslem of full age, the pension varied from 4000 to 300 dirhems. We can easily understand what an influence the hope of this pension must have exerted on the conquered races, and how much it must have contributed to their conversion. On accepting Islam they acquired a right to the pension, besides ceasing to pay the land-tax and the poll-tax.

Even in the earliest days of Islam the Arabs were not entirely devoid of military skill. Many of their tribes had been brought into relations with the Greeks and Persians, and had acquired from them some ideas of the art of war. Thus, in the time of Mohammed, the division of an army into a centre, right and left wings, vanguard and rearguard, was understood, and the art of defending a camp or a city by entrenchments was also known. The Arabs fought on foot, on horseback, and mounted on camels. The arms of the infantry consisted of a spear, a sword, and a shield, and sometimes also of a bow and arrows. The horsemen fought chiefly with the lance. For defensive arms, besides the shield, the Arabs were acquainted with the helmet, the coat of mail, and the cuirass of leather covered with plates of iron. It was not till the period of the Omayyads that they began to employ military engines, such as the balista. The army was divided by tribes; and each tribe had its flag, which consisted of a piece of cloth fastened to a lance. As regards the recruitment of their armies, every man able to carry arms was originally bound to render military service. Omar I., to whom Islam owes so many of its institutions, was the first to divide his armies into distinct corps, and to assign to each corps a fixed station. These stations were the province of Cufa, that of Basra, and afterwards the provinces of Emesa, of the Jordan, and of Palestine. These provinces afterwards became military colonies, all the inhabitants of which were bound to render military service, as distinguished from the other provinces, where service was optional, or at all events regulated by the necessities of the moment.

With the accession of Mo'âwiya I. to the supreme power, the mechanism of the State was modified and became more complicated. Mo'âwiya endeavoured to copy the ceremonial of foreign courts. He built himself a palace at Damascus, and set up a throne in the audience-chamber, the door of which was kept by a chamberlain (II<ijib). When he attended the service at the mosque, he occupied a close pew with a grating in front (Maksûra). When he left his palace, he was surrounded by a bodyguard (Shor ta), commanded by a provost (Scihib al-Shorta). Lastly, in his own lifetime, he caused his son Yazid to be acknowledged as his heir-presumptive, and thus established the principle of hereditary succession, which was opposed to the spirit of Islam, and was the source of every kind of calamity. As regards the administration of the State, Mo'âwiya acted at his own will and pleasure. Thus, in order to secure the services of 'Amr b. al-'As, the conqueror of Egypt, he gave up to him the revenues of that province, a part of which ought to have gone to the State. He also took an important step with regard to the annual pensions of the Faithful, which he reduced by about two and a half per cent. The administration of the public funds in the different provinces was left to their Prefects, who were expected to pay into the public treasury only the surplus of their respective revenues. The empire had been at first divided into ten provinces—1. Syria (subdivided into four Jond, or military districts); 2. Cufa, with Arabian 'Irâk and Persian 'Irâk; 3. Basra, with Persia, Sijistân, Khorâsân, Bahrain, and Omân; 4. Armenia; 5. Mecca; 6. Medina; 7. The Indian Marches; 8. Africa; 9. Egypt; 10. Yemen. Mo'âwiya, however, subsequently thought proper to make Khorâsân a separate province. Under his successors, and according to the necessities of the moment, it was sometimes reunited to the government of 'Irâk. In 'Irak itself, Mo'âwiya joined Basra and its dependencies to Cufa.

Under Mo'âwiya the Prefects had the most extensive civil and military powers. They had even the right of the direct appointment of their Sub-Prefects. Mo'âwiya, notwithstanding, thought it advisable to disconnect from their powers the offices of Judge (Kàdi) and of Religious Official (Imam), which were entrusted to special functionaries named directly by the Caliph. The Caliph was, however, always at liberty to modify these arrangements at his own pleasure. Under the successors of Mo'âwiya, we find certain Prefects invested at the same time with the dignities of Cadi and Imâm.

It was also to Mo'âwiya that the State owed the creation of a Chancery (Diwân al-akhtâm, or Seals-office), in which all decrees proceeding from the Caliph were registered; so that, when once issued, these decrees could not be falsified. Mo'âwiya also exerted himself to ensure rapidity of communication throughout the empire, by instituting the courier-post (Barîd), in imitation of the post of the Persians and Byzantines.

After Mo'âwiya we must come down to the time of 'Abd al-Melik to meet with any important innovations in Moslem institutions. Before the reign of that Caliph the books of the public offices were kept by Christians and Persians, and drawn up in Greek and Persian. 'Abd al-Melik ordered the exclusive employment of the Arabic language, and substituted Moslems for all the Christian and Persian clerks in the government offices. It was this same Caliph who founded the monetary system of Islam, and who was the first to strike dinârs (pieces of gold worth about ten francs), and dirhems (pieces of silver worth about a franc), with legends in Arabic. The postal system was also very much improved and developed under this prince. 'Abd al-Melik was powerfully seconded by the famous Hajjâj, who was able to re-establish in 'Irâk the disputed principle of obligatory military service, and who also succeeded, by skilful management, in raising the condition of agriculture in that province. Walid, the successor of 'Abd al-Melik, especially distinguished himself by the foundation of religious institutions. In his reign the mosque of Damascus, half of which had hitherto remained in the hands of the Christians, was appropriated exclusively to the Moslems, and considerably embellished. Hospitals were also established for lepers, the poor, the blind, and the sick. The pious Omar II. devoted all his efforts to the embellishment of the mosque of Damascus. An edict of Omar I. had forbidden Moslems to acquire landed property, agriculture being considered an occupation unworthy of a free man. This law had fallen into disuse; but Omar II. put it in force again, and declared null and void every purchase of land made by a Moslem subsequently to a.h. 100. The effects of this law might have been fatal to the empire; but it again became obsolete under the Caliphate of Hishâm.

At the accession of the 'Abbâsids the centre of the empire was displaced. Damascus fell from the rank of its capital to that of a provincial town; while Baghdâd, a small and unknoλvn village, became the mistress of the world. Under the first 'Abbâsid the empire—not including the province of Baghdâd—was divided as follows :— 1. The province of Cufa; 2. The province of Basra, with the district of the Tigris, Bahrain and Omân; 3. Hijâz and Yamâma; 4. Yemen; 5. Ahwâz; 6. Fârsistân; 7. Khorâsân; 8. The province of Mosul; 9. Mesopotamia, with Armenia and Azerbaijân; 10. Syria; 11. Egypt and the province of Africa (Spain being a dependency of Africa); 12. Sind. Al-Saffâh afterwards made Palestine a distinct province, and separated Armenia and Azerbaijân from Mesopotamia. Still later, Hârùn al-Rashid created a new province to the north of Syria, which received the name of 'Awâsim. Each newly-conquered province was always united to that one of the older provinces to which it was nearest.

Simultaneously with the accession of the 'Abb<4sids, Persian influence began to preponderate. The Persian, Khalid b. Barmak, was entrusted with the administration of the finances (Dîwân al-Kharâj) by As-Saffah, who was also the first Caliph who transferred the burden of public affairs from himself to a Prime Minister (Wazir, whence, in European languages, the term Vizier). The title of Wazir was unknown to the Omayyads. The office of Prime Minister was of Persian origin. It existed till the time of the Caliph Râdi, when that of Amir al-Omarà was substituted for it. When the Caliphs had fallen under the tutelage of the Bùyids, it was the latter who chose Viziers, leaving to the Caliphs only Secretaries (Rayis al-Ruu'asd). Under the Seljιi⅛ Sultans the Caliphs were again permitted to choose their own Viziers.

The institution of the office of Vizier was not the least among the causes of the decadence of the Eastern Caliphate. The 'Abbàsids gradually became unaccustomed to the exercise of power and the management of affairs, and thus lost all direct influence over their subjects. Besides the Minister of Finance and the Vizier, the 'Abbâsids created another important office, that of Postmaster-General (Sdhib tιl-Barid), whose duty it was to collect at a central office all the information which arrived from the provinces, and to transmit it to the Prime Minister. Thus the administrative services were greatly extended under the 'Abbâsids. They were subdivided as follows:—1. Diwàn al-Kharâj, or Ministry of Finance; 2. Diwdn al-Diya, or Bureau of State property; 3. Diwdn al-Zimdm, Registry Office or Exchequer Office; 4. Diwdn al-Jond, or Ministry of War; 5. Nazar al-Afazdlim, or Court of Appeal; 6. Diwdn al-Mawdli wal-Ghilmdn, or Bureau of the freedmen and slaves of the Caliphs; 7. Dixυdn Zimdm al-Nafakdt, or Office of Expenditure; 8. Diwdn al-Barid, or Office of the Posts; 9. Dîwàn al-Rasdil, or Office of Correspondence; 10. Diwàn al-Taukι, or Office of the Imperial Seal, and of the registration of official documents. There were also offices for the despatch and reception of official documents, and for the inspection of weights and measures.

We cannot better conclude this brief summary of the institutions of the Caliphate than by giving a sketch of the organization of the State, according to the Moslem authors themselves.

The supreme chief received the title of Caliph, or of Commander of the Faithful (Amir al-Mo’minin). He united in his own person all the powers of the State; his Ministers and all public functionaries acted only by virtu,e of a commission from him. They, like all other Moslems, were at the mercy of the Caliph, who had power of life and death over them. As spiritual chief, the Caliph was also the supreme judge in questions of dogma. In theory he held his powers by the free choice of the majority of Moslems; but, when he had once received their oath of allegiance, he became their absolute master. The first condition of eligibility to the Caliphate was to belong to the tribe of Koraish. In Moslem belief, the subjects of the Caliph owed him obedience and aid so long as he should fulfil his duties with exactness. These consisted in maintaining the principles of religion, in administering justice scrupulously, in defending the territory and assuring its safety, in carrying on war for the subjugation of the infidels, and in spending the public revenue in conformity to the law. If the Caliph failed in the performance of his duty, rebellion against him became lawful.

The Ministers might be absolute or dependent. If dependent, they simply executed · the orders of their sovereign. If absolute, they took his place, and exercised all the powers of a Caliph except that they could not, at least in theory, designate any successor to the reigning Caliph. It was only to the Caliph himself that they were responsible for their actions.

The Prefects, when once appointed, whether by the Caliph or the Vizier, became so many petty sovereigns, and, legally, owed an account of their actions only to the Caliph, or to his Prime Minister, when the latter was absolute.

The Generals were appointed either by the Caliph or by the Vizier, or lastly by the Prefect, when only a local war was in question. They were sometimes invested with very extensive powers, such as those of concluding treaties of peace, of administering justice, and of dividing the booty. The General, in his turn, appointed the officers (Nakibs) and under-officers Ç Arifs). It was a general order that infidels, before hostilities against them were opened, should be summoned to embrace the faith, or to submit by capitulation. The conversion of infidels was valid, even when effected sword in hand, on the field of battle, and the new convert became inviolable in person and property. On the other hand, every infidel taken prisoner was sold as a slave, with his wife and children. He might even be put to death. Apostates were never to be spared; they were put to death, and their property confiscated.

Justice was administered by Cadis, appointed either by the Caliph, by the Vizier, or by the Prefect. To be eligible as a Cadi (Kddι), it was requisite that a man should be—1. A male and of respectable age; 2. In full possession of his mental and physical faculties; 3. A free man; 4. A Moslem; 5. Of good moral character; 6. Acquainted with the principles of the law and their application. The duties of the Cadi were to examine into the disputes and lawsuits brought before him; to enforce the execution of his judgments; to name judicial councils for the administration of the goods of minors, madmen, etc.; to administer the mortmain property of mosques and schools (wakf plural wokuf) ; to watch over the execution of wills; to inflict due legal penalties on those guilty of crimes or misdemeanours; and to inspect the highways and public buildings. When any locality possessed no Imâm, or public officiator at the mosque, it was the Cadi who performed this duty. The assistants of the Cadi were Notaries (Shohdd), Secretaries (f)mand), and Deputies (Ndyibin). If the Cadi died, his subordinates lost their offices ipso facto. On the other hand, the death of a Caliph did not nullify the powers of the Cadi; but it was necessary that he should be confirmed by the new sovereign.

The Court of Appeal (Nazar al-Mazdlim) was instituted to take cognizance of those causes in which the parties concerned appealed from the judgment of the Cadi. The sittings of this court were presided over by the Caliph in person. It was established by the Omayyad 'Abd al-Melik. The last Caliph who sat in public to examine appeal cases was Mohtadi. After him a special judge was appointed to the function of president of the Court of Appeal.

Besides the Judges there were Inspectors (Mohtasib), charged with the police of the markets and the care of morals. The Mohtasib’s duty was to take care that weights and measures were not falsified, and that buyers were not deceived as to the quality of the goods sold. He had the power of inflicting summary punishment on delinquents, but only in the case of flagrant offences. If the person charged denied the facts, he was to be brought before the Cadi. As regards morals, the Mohtasib took care that widows and divorced women should not remarry before the expiration of the legal period prescribed by the Koran. Slaves and beasts of burden were placed under his guardianship, and he protected them from ill-treatment on the part of their masters. The Mohtasib was also commissioned to prevent public scandals, such as the sale of wine; to forbid Christians and Jews from building houses higher than those of the Faithful; and to enforce their wearing on their dress a distinctive mark (Ghiydr).

Besides the offices already described, there existed three others which require mention—those of the Marshals of the Nobility (Nikâbat al-Ashraf), of the Imâms, and of the Emirs of the Pilgrimage.

The Marshals of the Nobility were appointed in the different provinces either by the Caliph, by his representatives, or by the Grand Marshal. Their functions were to superintend the descendants of the family of the Prophet, who formed the nobility of Islam, and to keep a register of all the births and deaths which occurred in the families of the members of this nobility. In every province there were two Marshals, one for the family of 'All, the other for the 'Abbâsids.

The duty of the Imâm was to recite the public prayers in the mosque. He was appointed by the Caliph or his representatives, and chose in his turn his Mo ’ edhdhins, who called the Faithful to prayer from the tops of the minarets. In the Friday prayers it was the duty of the Imâm to invoke publicly the blessings of Heaven on the reigning Caliph.

The leadership of the yearly pilgrimage to the temple of Mecca was considered a great honour. It was almost always the Caliph himself or one of his near relatives who assumed the function of Amir al-Hajj. The duties of this leader of the pilgrimage were—1. To escort the pilgrims in safety on their journeys to Mecca and back; 2. To direct the religious ceremonies during the sojourn of the pilgrims at the Holy City.

Such, briefly stated, was the organization of the Moslem State. Let us now say a few words on its religion.

We need not now recur to the subject of the doctrines of Mohammed, which are treated of in their own place; but it is important to show what they became after the time of the Prophet, and what movements they aroused in Islam. The diversity of the conquered races was of itself sufficient to introduce, in the course of ages, serious modifications of the earlier religion.

But, from the very first, the Koran contained within itself the germs of discord. As long as men were content to adopt its teachings without discussion, orthodoxy might boast of maintaining itself unbroken. But as soon as they sought to examine deeply into its meaning, difficulties arose, which necessarily led the strongest minds into doubt and uncertainty. In particular, the conception of God, predestination, and free-will, as presented by the Koran, could not bear examination. As early as the first century of the Flight a theological school was founded at Basra, the most renowned master of which, Hasan al-Basrf, introduced the critical study of dogmas. His disciples, who were for the most part Persians, could not fail soon to discover that the Koran often contradicted itself, and especially that it left many dogmatic difficulties unresolved. One of the disciples of Hasan, Wâsil b. 'Atâ, set forth his scruples publicly, departing on three points from the orthodox doctrine. The Koran affirms the attributes of God; Wâsil b. 'Atâ denied them; because, he says, if the attributes of God are eternal, they constitute in some sort so many deities. We ought not therefore to affirm the existence of an attribute—that of justice, for example —but simply to affirm that God is essentially just. The Koran admits the doctrine of predestination; Wâsil rejected it, as incompatible with the theory of rewards and punishments in another life, which presumes absolute free-will in man. The Koran speaks only of paradise and hell; Wâsil admitted a purgatory. The sect founded by Wâsil received the name of Mo'tazilite (dissident), or Kadarite, that is to say, which recognizes in man a power (Kadar) over his own actions. Another sect, that of the Jabarites (Partisans of constraint) agreed with the Mo'tazilites on the question of the attributes, but were diametrically opposed to them on that of free-will. The Jabarites denied to man the slightest share in his own actions, and believed the very smallest actions of men to be the effect of predestination. The Koran, not concerning itself with the contradiction involved, admits at the same time the responsibility of man and the absolute predestination of his actions. The Jabarites rejected all responsibility, and believed that man is predestined from all eternity to paradise or to hell, for no other reason than that God has so willed it. A third sect, that of the Sifatites (Partisans of the Attributes), contended energetically against the two former. Keeping to the text of the sacred book, they alleged, for example, that when it is said in the Koran that God is seated on his throne, the expression must be taken literally. They thus fell into the grossest anthropomorphism, a doctrine which was very far from the ideas of Mohammed. In the face of these heterodox sects, the orthodox made but a poor figure. Rejecting, in their commentaries on the Koran, the explanations alike of the Mo'tazilites, of the Jabarites, and of the ⅛ifatites, but acknowledging their inability to refute them systematically, they merely opposed to them a declaration that the Koran was neither to be explained allegorically nor always taken literally; and they concluded that, where two contradictory expressions could not be reconciled, a mystery must be admitted to exist, which it would be vain to attempt to fathom. But they did not always keep within the limits of discussion. Under the reign of 'Abd al-Melik they succeeded in bringing about a persecution of the sectaries.

The Mo'tazilites, the Jabarites, and the ξ>ifatites were dangerous only to the Church. Other sects arose, which put the State itself in peril. It will be remembered that, at the time of the dispute between 'Ali and Mo'âwiya, twelve thousand of the partisans of the former deserted him. These revolters, or Khârijites, originated one of the most formidable sects which ever existed in Islam. The Khârijites rejected in principle the Caliphate and the Imâmate. At all events, they did not acknowledge the exclusive right of the Koraish to the Caliphate, but declared that, if it was absolutely necessary to elect a Caliph, his origin was of little consequence, provided he fulfilled his duties conscientiously and exactly. We have seen for what a length of time they kept the Omayyads in check. When they had been put down in Asia, they passed into Africa, and there made numerous proselytes among the Berbers, disposed as these were, by their independent character, to adopt with enthusiasm the principle of anarchy. The most terrible, however, of the militant sects which were formed in the bosom of Islam was that of the Shi'ites. Originally the Shi'ites were simply the partisans of 'Ali and of his descendants. In the course of time, when the whole of Persia had adopted the cause of the family of 'Ali, Shi'ism became the receptacle of all the religious ideas of the Persians, and Dualism, Gnosticism, and Manicheism, were to be seen reflected in it. Even in the lifetime of 'Ali, a converted Jew, named 'Abdallâh b. Sabâ, had striven to introduce foreign elements into Islam. Thus, he alleged that 'Ali was to be adored as an incarnation of the Deity. These ideas, though rejected with horror by 'Ali himself, and by the greater part of the first Shi'ites, gradually made way; and all the direct descendants of 'All became veritable deities in the eyes of their respective partisans. A further distinction between the Shi'ites and other sects is, that they introduced the practice of giving the Koran an allegorical interpretation. This system permitted them to see in the sacred book whatever meaning they chose, and was carried out at a later date, as we shall see, by the founder of the Ismailian sect.

Under the 'Abbâsids it seemed for a moment that the Shi'ite doctrines were about to triumph. We know, in fact, that the founder of that dynasty gave himself out as the heir of the house of 'All. But reasons of State prevailed, and the 'Abbâsids, false to their first professions, on the whole supported orthodoxy. Under their reign were established the four orthodox sects — Mâlikite, Hanafite, Shâfi'ite, and Hanbalite, which even at this day divide between them the whole Moslem world. They are named after their founders—Mâlik, Abù Hanifa, Shâfi'i, and Ibn Hanbal. These sects only differ from each other on a few points of civil and religious jurisprudence. They agree on questions of dogma. It was not, however, without difficulty that orthodoxy succeeded in obtaining the victory. Under Ma’miin and other Caliphs several doctors, as we have seen, were persecuted for believing that the Koran was the uncreated word of God. From the time of Motawakkil, however, orthodoxy regained the upper hand. Still, this reaction would not have lasted long, in face of the advance in science which marked the accession of Ma’miin to power, if the orthodox had had no other defensive weapons than material force and the assent of the majority. As philosophy made its way in Islam, thanks to the translations from Greek authors, which were made principally during the Caliphate of Ma’miin, it called forth in men’s minds a movement of scientific curiosity which might have been fatal to orthodoxy. In the tenth century of our era a society of encyclopedists was formed at Basra, who, under the name of Ikhwân al-Çafâ, or Brothers of Purity, put forth a number of very curious treatises, in which all sorts of physical and metaphysical questions were discussed and resolved in a scientific manner. There is no doubt that these lucid and attractive writings would have led to a great religious revolution, if the orthodox had not understood the danger of their position, and applied themselves also to the study of philosophy, for the purpose of employing it in the service of the faith. It was thus that, towards the middle of the tenth century, a certain Abιi Ι-Hasan al-Ash'arf, a descendant of that Abιi Mùsâ al-Ash'arf who had formerly acted the part of arbitrator in the dispute between Mo'âwiya and 'All, struck out a system in which religion appeared to be reconciled with philosophy; a system which was naturally sure to attract all commonplace minds—that is to say, the greater number. Ash'arism, or philosophic theology (Kalâin), was adopted with enthusiasm by the triumphant orthodox doctors, and thenceforth pure philosophy and the heterodox sects ceased to extend their influence.

The creation, however, of this philosophical theology had not done away with all dangers for orthodoxy. We have seen above that the Shi'a were divided into several sects, each holding for one of the direct descendants of 'All, and paying him the reverence due to a deity. One of these sects, called the Ismailian, because it acknowledged Ismâ'il, the seventh Imâm or Pontiff of the posterity of 'Ali, as its chief, was the source of the greatest disorders in the Moslem empire, and was not far from being triumphant in Asia, as it was for a long time in Egypt. The Ismailians, like all the other Shi'ites, believed in the coming of a Messiah, whom they called the Mahdi, and who, according to them, was one day to appear on earth, in order to establish the reign of justice and equity, and to take vengeance on the oppressors of the family of 'Ali. They also believed in a God of far more elevated character than the God of the Koran, one who was unapproachable by human reason, and who had created the universe, not directly, but by the intermediate action of a sublime being, the Universal Reason, produced by an act of God’s will. The Universal Reason, in its turn, had produced the Universal Soul, which, on its part, had given birth to primitive Matter, to Space, and to Time. These five principles were the causes of the universe. Man, emanating from them, had a tendency to reascend towards his source. The chief end of his being was to attain to perfect union with the Universal Reason. But, left to himself, man would have been powerless to attain this end. The Universal Reason and the Universal Soul therefore became incarnate among men, in order to guide them towards the light. These incarnations were no other than the prophets in all ages, and, in the last period, the Imâms of the posterity of 'Ali. In the second half of the ninth century, a Persian, born in Susiana and named 'Abdallâh b. Maimιin al-Kaddâh, nourished the dream of destroying Islam, and thought these doctrines, suitably modified, likely to be highly useful in carrying out his purpose. He devised a system at once religious, philosophical, political, and social, in which, as he thought, all beliefs were to meet and mingle, but—and in this consisted its originality—a system so graduated to suit different degrees of intelligence, that the whole world should become one vast Masonic association. The chief of the Ismailians, the Imâm Ismâ'il, having died, 'Abdallâh asserted that his son Mohammed b. Ismâ'il was to succeed him as the founder of this new religion, which it was 'Abdallâh’s mission to announce to the world. Since the creation of the world, as 'Abdallâh asserted, there had been six religious periods, each marked by an incarnation of the Universal Reason in the person of a prophet. Adam, Noah, Abraham, Moses, Jesus, and Mohammed had been the prophets of these periods. Their mission had been to invite men to accept more and more perfect forms of religion. The seventh and last religion, and the most perfect of all, was that of Mohammed b. Ismâ'il, the true Messiah. The Ismailians, as may be imagined, readily embraced the theories of 'Abdallâh. In addressing other sects and religions, 'Abdallâh used special arguments with each. With the philosophers he dwelt on the philosophical principles of his doctrine. The conversion of Christians, Moslems, or Jews, was a more difficult task. 'Abdallâh had established several degrees of initiation, and it was only by slow degrees, and with the most minute precautions, that he gained a mastery over the mind of the future proselyte. His curiosity was first aroused by allegorical interpretations of the Old Testament, the Gospels, and the Koran, and by proposing to him religious problems which could not be solved by any of the existing religions. The solution of these problems was not to be given to him till he should have signed a compact, and sworn never to reveal the mysteries with which he was made acquainted. If he took this pledge, he thenceforward belonged, body and soul, to the sect; and woe to him if he made any attempt to withdraw himself from the authority of his chiefs! The compact signed, the newly-initiated disciple had to make a certain payment, which went to swell the treasury of the sect. The secret society founded by 'Abdallah soon had a great number of members, and its missionaries spread themselves over the Moslem world. Towards 887 a.d. an Ismailian, Hamdân, surnamed Karmat, founded the branch sect of the Carmathians, whose exploits have been recorded above. The Ismailian preachers also made numerous proselytes in Africa and in Egypt; and in a.d. 909, Obaid Allâh, a descendant of the founder of the sect, but who passed as a member of the family of 'Ali, founded the Fâtimite dynasty. Under the Fâtimite Caliph Hâkim, a new religion sprang out of Ismailism, that of the Druses, so called from its inventor, a certain Darazi or Dorzi. This religion differs little from Ismailism, except that it introduces the dogma of the incarnation of God himself on earth, under the form of the Caliph Hâkim. This heresy did not survive the reign of Hâkim in Egypt. When the Fâtimite Caliph Mostansir ascended the throne, he re-established the Ismailian belief; and the Druses, driven from Egypt, took refuge in the Lebanon, where they still exist. As for the Egyptian Ismailians, they disappeared at the time of the conquest of that province by the pious and orthodox Ayyûbite Saladin. This, however, was not a final deliverance of Islam from that formidable heresy. A hundred years before the return of Egypt to orthodoxy, a Persian named Hasan §abbâh, who had been initiated into Ismailism at Cairo, in the household of the Caliph Mostansir, had founded at Alamût, on the southern shores of the Caspian Sea, that Persian branch of the Ismailians known to all the world under the name of the Assassins, who held in check the most powerful princes of Islam, till they were destroyed by the Mongol invasion. From Persia, Hasan Sabbâh succeeded in filling Syria with his Assassins, and every one knows the part they played during the Crusades. The Assassins of Syria have never entirely disappeared. Even at this day some are to be found in the Lebanon. There are also some representatives of the sect in Persia, in India, and even in Zanzibar; but since the 13th century they have become completely inoffensive.

To conclude this sketch of the development of religious beliefs, it remains to say a few words on one of the most remarkable manifestations of Islam—its mysticism, or Sûfism. In principle, mysticism is rather a mode of practising religion than a distinct religion; it depends on the character of the believer’s mind, and adapts itself to all dogmas. It is the especial tendency of tender and dreamy spirits. Thus among the Moslems it is a woman who is considered to have founded mysticism. This woman, named Rabi'a, lived in the first century of the Hijra, and was buried at Jerusalem. Her doctrine was simply the theory of Divine love. She taught that God must be loved above all things, because he alone is worthy of love; and that everything here below must be sacrificed in the hope of one day attaining to union with God. These views were too similar to the Neo-Platonic ideas respecting the union of the human intellect with the Universal Reason not to have an attraction for the Gnostics, who abounded in the Shi'ite sects. Mysticism therefore made great progress in Persia, and assumed the character of a sect towards the year 200 of the Flight. A certain Abù Sa , id b. Abi Ί-Khair was the first who advised his disciples to forsake the world and embrace a monastic life, in order to devote themselves exclusively to meditation and contemplation; a practice which may very probably have been borrowed from India. The disciples of Abû Sa'id wore a garment of wool (*S⅛i∕), whence they received the name of Sùfis. Sûfism spread more and more in Persia, and was enthusi astically embraced by those who wished to give themselves up undisturbed to philosophical speculation. Thus, under the colour of Sûfism, opinions entirely subversive of the faith of Islam were professed. In its first form Sûfism was quite compatible with Moslem dogma. It was satisfied to profess a contempt for life, and an exclusive love of God, and to extol ascetic practices, as the fittest means of procuring those states of ecstasy during which the soul was supposed to contemplate the Supreme Being face to face. But by degrees, thanks to the adepts whom it drew from the ranks of heterodoxy, Sûfism departed from its original purpose, and entered on discussions respecting the Divine nature, which in some cases finally led to Pantheism. The principal argument of these Pantheistic Sûfis was that God being one, the creation must make a part of his being; since otherwise it would exist externally to him, and would form a principle distinct from him; which would be equivalent to looking on the universe as a deity opposed to God. In the reign of Moktadir, a Persian Sûfi named Hallâj, who taught publicly that every man is God, was tortured and put to death. After this the Sûfis showed more caution, and veiled their teachings under oratorical phrases. Moreover, it was not all the Sûfis who pushed logical results so far as to assert that man is God. They maintained that God is all, but not that all is God. Sûfism exists in Persia even in our own day.

It has been explained that, under the 'Abbâsids, four orthodox sects were established, and that these sects differed among themselves principally with regard to jurisprudence. The law of Islam is one of its most original creations, and can only be compared in history with the development of Roman law. The laws laid down by Mohammed in the Koran might suffice for the Arabs as long as they were confined within the bounds of their peninsula. When their empire was extended beyond these limits, it was inevitable that this first code should become insufficient for their wants. As early as the time of the first four Caliphs it was necessary, in giving judgment on the new cases which presented themselves, to have recourse to analogy, and to draw inspiration from decisions given by Mohammed, but not recorded in the Koran. The first fountains, therefore, of law were, besides the sacred book, the traditions of Mohammed, or IIadith, the collective body of which constitutes the Sunna, or custom. These traditions were for a long time preserved only in the memory of the companions of Mohammed, and of those to whom they had been orally communicated. But at the beginning of the second century of the Flight the need was felt of fixing tradition in writing; and it was at Medina that the first collection of them was made. It was due to the jurisconsult Mâlik b. Anas. He rejected from his collection with the greatest care all traditions which appeared doubtful, and only preserved about seventeen hundred, which he arranged in the order of their subjects. To this collection he gave the name of Mowatta, or Beaten Path. After him came the celebrated Bokhârï, the compiler of the Sahih, in which he brought together about seven thousand traditions, carefully chosen. The tfahih has continued to be the standard work on the subject of tradition.

The traditions did not always supply the means of deciding difficult causes. The first four Caliphs were often obliged to have recourse to their own judgment in the administration of justice. Their decisions ÇÀthâr) were also collected at Medina, and helped to swell the store of juridical matter.

In 'Iràk another school of law was formed, which is distinguished from that of Medina by a greater degree of independence. While the lawyers of Medina held strictly to the Koran, the traditions of the Prophet, and the 'Athàr, those of 'Iràk admitted, in addition to these, the deductive or analogical method (A'ιyd⅛'), according to which it was lawful to create precedents, provided there was no departure from the spirit of the sacred book, from the traditions of the Prophet, or from the corresponding decisions of the first four Caliphs. Ibn Abi Laila, who filled the office of judge in 'I∏⅛ under the caliphate of Mansùr, was one of the first to apply this system. His renown, however, was eclipsed by that of his contemporary Abù Hanifa, who worked out a complete system of jurisprudence, with which his name has continued to be connected (Hanifite law). Fifty years after the death of Abù Hanifa, ShAfi'i, a pupil of Mâlik, appeared at Baghdad, and founded in his turn an intermediate system, in which he endeavoured to hold an equal balance between the purely traditional and the deductive methods. The fourth system reputed orthodox is that of Ibn Hanbal, a pupil of Shâfi'i. Ibn Hanbal strove above all things to bring back religious observances to their primitive purity. His doctrine was a kind of puritanism. As may be supposed, each of these systems has been subsequently developed and commented on in a multitude of works, even the names of which it is impossible to enumerate. In order, however, to give some idea of what a Moslem treatise on jurisprudence is, we shall point out the principal subjects contained in it. It treats successively—1. Of Purification (ablutions commanded by the law, purification of women, circumcision, etc.); 2. Of Prayer as commanded by the law; 3. Of Funerals; 4. Of Tithe and Almsgiving; 5. Of the legal Fast; 6. Of the Pilgrimage to Mecca; 7. Of Commercial and other transactions; 8. Of Inheritance; 9. Of Marriage and Divorce; 10. Of the Faith; 11. Of Crimes and Misdemeanours; 12. Of Justice; 13. Of the Im<imate or spiritual power, and of the Caliphate or temporal power. It is thus a complete code, religious, civil, penal, and governmental, that Moslem treatises on jurisprudence set before us; a code which embraces and foresees all the circumstances both of public and private life.

The development of science and literature runs parallel with the development of law. Before the time of Mohammed the Arabs had been distinguished only by a rare poetical talent. Islam was the signal for the springing up of all the sciences and of literature. While the study of the dogmas and ordinances of the Koran was producing theology and jurisprudence, the necessity of preserving the exact text of the sacred book, and of teaching the new converts the language of the Prophet, was giving birth to grammar and lexicography. The first school of grammar was established at Basra. The first attempts at grammar are generally attributed to a certain Abù ’1-Aswad al-Do’ali, who was tutor to the children of Ziyàd, the brother of Mo'âwiya. According, however, to some authors, the honour of having discovered the first elements of grammar ought to be attributed to a Persian, named 'Abd al-Rahmân b. Hormùz. Be this as it may, a foreign influence must be recognized at the very commencement of this science. The vowel marks, for instance, were imitated from those of the Syriac. The division of the parts of speech into nouns, verbs, and particles was indirectly borrowed from Greek grammar. Yet the Moslems, once in possession of the principles of grammar, knew how to develop and apply them in an admirable manner. A perfect galaxy of grammarians arose in the track of Abù Ί-Aswad; a rival school to that of Basra was established at Cufa, and grammar attained its highest degree of perfection under the first 'Abbâsids; as is shown by the voluminous treatise of Sibawaihi, known under the name of Kitdb, x or the Book par excellence.

In lexicography, the Arabs were at first content to explain the rarer words of the Koran, of the traditions, and of the ancient poems; and to collect lists of terms applying to the same object, as the camel, the horse, the sword, etc. Thus small collections were formed, which served afterwards for the composition of dictionaries. The first dictionary properly so called, composed in Arabic, appears to have been the Kitâb al-Ain of Khalil b. Ahmed al-Farâhidi, a contemporary of Hârùn al-Rashid. After him came Jauhari, whose Sahdh may still be consulted with profit. The celebrated Zamakhshari composed a dictionary of metaphors under the title of Asas al-Baldgha. Lastly, Tha'âlibi, in the 11th century of our era, drew up his Fikh al-Logha, a work specially devoted to synonyms. The accessory branches of philology gave occasion to some important works. The ancient poems and proverbs were collected and commented on. Thus Abù Tammàm formed his Anthology, called Hamâsa (q.v.), and Maidâni his collection of proverbs (Kitâb amtlιdl al-Arab) ? The study of poetry, with special regard to its rhythm, led Khalil b. Ahmed, already mentioned as a grammarian and lexicographer, to the conception of prosody. He wrote the first treatise on that science, which served as a model to all subsequent writers on metre. Pure literature remained confined to poetry. It was not that the Arabs were without any conception of the romance, the tale, or the novel. The adventures of Antar, the romances of Dim Ί-Himma and of Saif al-Yazan, the Thousand and one Nights, and various collections of stories and novels, such as the Faraj ba'da 'l-8hidda and the compilation of Bikâ'i, well known by the extracts which Kosegarten has given in his Chrestomathy all these show clearly that the Arabs were not devoid of imagination, at least if, as we believe, these tales and romances were not pure and simple imitations from the Persian. It must be acknowledged, however, that these few productions do not, any more than the Makâmât of Hamadhâni and of Hariri, constitute a very important literature. The drama, the epic, the romance of character, were absolutely unknown to the Arabs. Poetry, on the other hand, an endowment of the ancient Arabs, continued to live and flourish as long as the Eastern Caliphate lasted. We may count poets by the hundred, eminent in every department of that art: in descriptive, erotic, martial, and philosophic poetry; in odes, in satires, etc. The great collection entitled Kitâb al-Aghdni, i compiled by Isfahâni, contains a choice of the finest poems, accompanied by very instructive notices of the poets, and of the circumstances under which they composed such and such pieces. Besides this, many Diwâns, or complete editions of the works of poets, have come down to us. They bear the celebrated names of Nùbigha, of 'Antara, of Tarafa, of Zohair, of 'Alkama, of Amraalkais, of Shanfara, of Labid, in the ρre-Islamic period (see Mo'allakàt); of Jarir, Akhtal, and Farazdak, in the Omayyad period; and of Abù Nowâs, Abù Ί-'Atàhiya, Moslim, Motanabbi’ (q.v.), and Abù T- 'Alâ., in the period of the 'Abbâsids. And this list contains only the most illustrious names.

With the accession of the 'Abbâsids to power, Moslem culture entered on a path fruitful in scientific progress. The second Caliph of that family, Mansûr, was surrounded by Syrian Christians of great learning, and equally well acquainted with the Greek, Syriac, and Arabic languages, and took advantage of their abilities to have a number of foreign books translated into Arabic. Thanks to him, the writings of Aristotle, Ptolemy, and Euclid spread a taste for science among the Moslems. The Caliph Ma’mùn was one of those who most encouraged translations from the Greek. In this way the Moslems became acquainted with the most important productions of the ancient world. Plato, the works of the Alexandrian school, those of Hippocrates, Dioscorides, and Galen, were familiar to them. Through the Persians many Indian writings also became accessible to them, such as the fables of Bidpai, and certain treatises on astronomy and algebra. The study of philosophy in all its branches was at one time in fashion, and, to appreciate the success with which it was cultivated in Islam, we need only recall the great names of Al-Kindi, Al-Fârâbi, Ibn Sinâ (Avicenna), Ibn Bâjâ (Avempace), and Ibn Roshd (Averroes), whose scientific teaching swayed the Middle Ages, and led to the revival of learning in the West.

In history and geography the Moslems distinguished themselves. The taste for history had been developed among them by the necessity of collecting all traditions relating to the Prophet, and by that of preserving their own genealogies. The study of geography was a result of their conquests. One of their most ancient historical productions was the biography of Mohammed, composed by Mohammed b. Ishâk under the caliphate of Mansûr. Wâkidi, another author of the 8th century of our era, compiled a history of the first Moslem conquests. At a later period, Balâdhori wrote on the same subject his Kitdb Fotuh al-Boldan A General history also soon became a subject of study, and, in the 9th century after Christ, Ibn Kotaiba compiled his Kitdb al-Ma l drif a treatise on universal history. In the 10th century two great historians flourished, Tabari and Mas'üdî, by the first of whom we have a very extensive chronicle, and by the second a general history, entitled Moruj al-Dhahdb (see Mas'üdî). After them came a perfect galaxy of well-known historians and biographers, such as Hamza of Isfahân, Ibn al-Tiktakâ, Nowairi, Makrizi, Abù ’ί-Fidâ, Abù Ί-Faraj, Al-Makin, Ibn al-Athir, Soyüti, and Ibn Khaldιin, not to speak of many others who compiled local chronicles and histories, such as those of Mecca, Medina, Damascus, and Baghdâd. As biographers, Nawawi and Ibn Khallikân are celebrated. The history of physicians and philosophers, by Ibn Abi Osaibiya, deserves to be placed in the first rank, side by side with the history of religions and sects by Shahrastâni.

The Moslems were not less active in the study of geography. In the 9th century, Ya'kübi wrote his Kitdb al-Bolddn, or Book of Countries, in which he described the principal cities of the Moslem empire. After him, Ibn Khordâdhbeh composed his Kitâb al-Masdlik wal- Mamdlik, or Book of Roads and Provinces, in which his principal object is to point out the different routes, and to give an account of the revenues derived from every province. His contemporary Kodâma soon after published his treatise on the work of clerks, in which, after a notice of the various government offices, he gives a description of the provinces of the empire with an account of the post-routes, their stages and distances, and of the revenues of each province. Ahmed b. Abi Ya'kûb al-Ya'kùbi wrote a description of Asia Minor and Ifrikiya. Several of the writings of the historian Mas'üdî also afford highly valuable information on geography. To Yâküt we owe a great geographical dictionary under the title of Mojam al-Bolddn ™ Lastly, Istakhri, Ibn Haukal, Mokaddasi, Bérüni, Bakri, Zamakhshari, Edrisi, and Abü Ί-Fidâ have left us important treatises, narratives of travels, and geographical dictionaries. Among the literature of voyages and travels we must also mention the curious Chain oj Histories associated with the name of the merchant Solaimân and the narratives of Nâsiri Khosrü, of Ibn Jobair, and of Ibn Batüta (^.v.).

The sciences connected with geography, such as astronomy and cosmography, were also cultivated by the Moslems. As early as the reign of Mansûr, the Sanscrit treatise on astronomy entitled Siddhanta had been translated into Arabic. Under Ma’mün, two observatories were founded, one at Baghdâd, the other at Damascus, and two degrees of the terrestrial meridian were measured by order of that Caliph. Al-Khârizmi, librarian to Ma’mün, composed his Rasm, al-Ard, or configuration of the earth, in which the name of every place was accompanied by its latitude and longitude. Astronomical tables were drawn up by Yahya, Habash, Abü Ma'shar (Abumazar), and Al-Battâni (Albategni). Treatises on astronomy were composed by Al-Farghâni and Al-Kindi. Al-Battâni, of whom we have just spoken, was the author of important works on the obliquity of the ecliptic and on the precession of the equinoxes. We may mention in the last place the curious writings of Dimashki and Kazwini on general cosmography, embracing several physical sciences.

The study of mathematics was carried very far. The Moslems not only received arithmetic, geometry, trigonometry, and algebra from the Greeks and Hindus, but themselves gave a further development to those sciences. The works of Al-Khârizmi served as guides to those learned men in Europe who first turned their attention to algebra in the 16th century.

The sciences of physics and chemistry, on the other hand, remained in their infancy. In physical science we can only mention a few works on Optics. As for Music, its study was limited to the practical, and though we may name the important treatise of Al-Fârâbi on the theory of Music—a treatise itself drawn entirely from Greek sources —we must acknowledge that Acoustics, properly so called, are not at all taken into consideration by him. Chemistry, considered as an exact science, continued unknown to the Moslems; yet they cultivated Alchemy with eagerness, in their search after the transmutation of metals, and Alchemy is the mother of Chemistry. Medicine, in the hands of the Arabs, remained such as they had borrowed it from the Greeks. As their religion forbade dissection, the Moslems were never able to rise above a rude empiricism. They contented themselves with adding to their own prescriptions, which they pretended to have received from the Prophet, those of the Greek physicians. The works of Avicenna prove this; and Ibn al-Baitâr’s treatise on the pharmacopoeia also shows how small a part observation played in Arabian medicine. Zoology, botany, and mineralogy made no greater progress; but they were at least among the subjects which attracted the attention of learned Moslems. The great treatise by Damiri, entitled Haytit al-Haiwtin, or Life of Animals, is of interest mainly from the legends it contains; and the treatise on mineralogy by Taifashi interests us principally by the details it gives on the origin of precious stones and the art of cutting them. It would be unjust to conclude this sketch without adding that the Moslems possess also a great number of technical treatises on the art of war, on military engines, and the Greek fire, on falconry and hunting, and on certain industries, such as those of glass, pottery, and metals. They have also written on magic, on the interpretation of dreams, and on sleight of hand. These works have as yet been very little investigated. We shall no doubt find in them interesting revelations on the history of the industrial arts, and on the history of superstitions.

With an empire so vast as that of the Moslems, we may easily conceive how extensive their commerce and industry must have been. Commerce had at all times been held in honour by the Arabs. Long before the days of Mohammed, the Koraish annually sent caravans, laden with all the products of Yemen, into Syria. Maritime commerce also was already flourishing in Chaldaea in the 5th century of our era. The city of Hira was frequented by ships coming from the Red Sea, from India, and even from China. Obolla was the emporium for the merchandise of India. It was principally thither that teakwood was brought, which served for the construction of ships and houses. Thus the Arabs, when they conquered Chaldaea, found maritime commerce in full activity there, and took advantage of it. Under the 'Abbâsids, Basra supplanted Hira and Obolla, and became the principal port. The history of Sindibâd (Sinbad the Sailor) shows how active foreign commerce was under the 'Abbâsids, and with what courage the Arab sailors confronted danger. Moslem colonies were established all along the coasts of Persia and India, and Moslem voyagers did not fear to venture as far as the China Seas. On the West, the commercial movement was not less active. Caravans laden with the products of Spain left Tangier, traversed the whole of Northern Africa, and reached Syria, Arabia, and Mesopotamia. Others passed through Asia Minor, Armenia, Persia, Khorâsân, and Turkestân, as far as the frontiers of China, while the route of others again was along the eastern coast of Africa, whence they brought back ivory and black slaves. Thus the silks of China, and the spices, camphor, steel, and precious woods of India, were poured into the empire, while the Moslems exported their glass, their dates, their cotton stuffs, their refined sugar, and their wrought tools, to those countries. The manufacture of glass was an industry of old standing among them. The glass of Syria was celebrated, and we know that flint-glass and enamels were also made at Baghdâd. Dates were cultivated principally in the neighbourhood of Basra, and also in Persia and Khùzistân. Refined sugar also came from the coast of Persia. As regards steel, the manufacture of armour and weapons was the speciality of the people of 'Irâk, of Bahrain, of Oinân, and of Yemen. The Syrians had the credit of forging excellent sword-blades. In Syria too were made mirrors of polished steel. The weaving of various stuffs formed an important branch of industry. The striped stuffs of Yemen, and the tissues of Baghdâd, Herât, Tawwaj, and Fasâ, enjoyed a high repute. Damascus was renowned for the silk fabrics which have taken their name from that city. The silks of Yemen, of Egypt, and of Cufa, had also a high reputation. Tunis produced gauze, and muslin figured with gold. Egypt manufactured brocade, Armenia supplied satin. The carpet manufacture under the Caliphs had already reached the excellence which it has maintained to our own days. At that time the carpets most valued came from Fârsistân and Tabaristân. Jewellery and trinkets found numerous outlets, as may be supposed. This traffic was principally carried on in the East by the Jews.

We know that the religion of the Prophet forbade any representation of the human figure. This prohibition does not appear to have been long observed, for we find that the walls of palaces and of the houses of the rich were covered with paintings. There was a school of painting at Basra, and a historian gives us the names of two painters of high celebrity in their art—Ibn 'Aziz and Kosair.

The manufacture of paper was carried on very extensively, a fact which is easily explained when we think of the literary activity of the Moslems. The Arabs originally used parchment. For this, after the conquest of Egypt, they substituted papyrus, which was itself supplanted by paper, when the Arabs had opened communications with China. Paper mills were established in several of the provinces, and at Baghdâd itself. Simultaneously with the appearance of this precious substance, the art of binding became one of the most flourishing industries, as did also the trades of the shoemaker, the saddler, and the dyer, etc. etc. Retail commerce, lastly, undertook the distribution of the products of agriculture and industry. In almost all the cities of the empire markets were held, where the fruiterer and grocer (BakkâÎ), the butcher (Jazztir), the armourer (fiaikaf, the bookseller (Warr tiff and the druggist and perfumer ÇAtttir), offered their wares for sale. (st. g.)

PART III.—THE KORAN.

The Koran (Ko’rân) is the foundation of Islam. It is the sacred book of more than a hundred millions of men, some of them nations of immemorial civilization, by all whom it is regarded as the immediate word of God. And since the use of the Koran in public worship, in schools and otherwise, is much more extensive than, for example, the reading of the Bible in most Christian countries, it has been truly described as the most widely-read book in existence. This circumstance alone is sufficient to give it an urgent claim on our attention, whether it suit our taste and fall in with our religious and philosophical views or not. Besides, it is the work of Mohammed, and as such is fitted to afford a clue to the spiritual development of that most successful of all prophets and religious personalities. It must be owned that the first perusal leaves on a European an impression of chaotic confusion,—not that the book is so very extensive, for it is not quite so large as the New Testament. This impression can in some degree be modified only by the application of a critical analysis with the assistance of Arabian tradition.

To the faith of the Moslems, as has been said, the Koran is the word of God, and such also is the claim which the book itself advances. For except in sur. i.—which is a prayer for men—and some few passages where Mohammed (vi. 104, 114; xxvii. 93; xlii. 8), or the angels (xix. 65; xxxvii. 164 sqq.), speak in the first person without the intervention of the usual imperative “say” (sing, or pl.), the speaker throughout is God, either in the first person singular, or more commonly the plural of majesty “we.” The same mode of address is familiar to us from the prophets of the Old Testament; the human personality disappears, in the moment of inspiration, behind the God by whom it is filled. But all the greatest of the Hebrew prophets fall back speedily upon the unassuming human “I”; while in the Koran the divine “I” is the stereotyped form of address. Mohammed, however, really felt himself to be the instrument of God; this consciousness was no doubt brighter at his first appearance than it afterwards became, but it never entirely forsook him. We might therefore readily pardon him for giving out, not only the results of imaginative and emotional excitement, but also many expositions or decrees which were the outcome of cool calculation, as the word of God, if he had only attained the pure moral altitude which in an Isaiah or a Jeremiah fills us with admiration after the lapse of ages.

The rationale of revelation is explained in the Koran itself as follows :—In heaven is the original text (“the mother of the book,” xliii. 3; “a concealed book,” lv. 77; “a well-guarded tablet,” lxxxv. 22). By a process of “sending down” (tanzil∖ one piece after another was communicated to the Prophet. The mediator was an angel, who is called sometimes the “Spirit” (xxvi. 193), sometimes the “holy Spirit” (xvi. 104), and at a later time “Gabriel” (ii. 91). This angel dictates the revelation to the Prophet, who repeats it after him, and afterwards proclaims it to the world (lxxxvii. 6, etc.). It is plain that we have here a somewhat crude attempt of the Prophet to represent to himself the more or less unconscious process by which his ideas arose and gradually took shape in his mind. It is no wonder if in such confused imagery the details are not always self-consistent. When, for example, this heavenly archetype is said to be in the hands of an exalted “scribe” (lxxx. 13 sqq.), this seems a transition to a quite different set of ideas, namely, the books of fate, or the record of all human actions—conceptions which are actually found in the Koran. It is to be observed, at all events, that Mohammed’s transcendental idea of God, as a Being exalted altogether above the world, excludes the thought of direct intercourse between the Prophet and God.

It is an explicit statement of the Koran that the sacred > book was revealed (“sent down ”) by God, not all at once, but piecemeal and gradually (xxv. 34). This is evident from the actual composition of the book, and is confirmed by Moslem tradition. That is to say, Mohammed issued his revelations in fly-leaves of greater or less extent. A single piece of this kind was called either, like the entire collection, ko’ràn, i.e. “recitation” or “reading;” or kitdb, “writing;” or sura, which is the late-Hebrew shiirä, and means literally “series.” The last became, in the lifetime of Mohammed, the regular designation of the individual sections as distinguished from the whole collection; and accordingly it is the name given to the separate chapters of the existing Koran. These chapters are of very unequal length. Since many of the shorter ones are undoubtedly complete in themselves, it is natural to assume that the longer, which are sometimes very comprehensive, have arisen from the amalgamation of various originally distinct revelations. This supposition is favoured by the numerous traditions which give us the circumstances under which this or that short piece, now incorporated in a larger section, was revealed; and also by the fact that the connection of thought in the present sûras often seems to be interrupted. And in reality many pieces of the long sûras have to be severed out as originally independent; even in the short ones parts are often found which cannot have been there at first. At the same time we must beware of carrying this sifting operation too far,—as Nöldeke now believes himself to have done in lιis earlier works, and as Sprenger also sometimes seems to do. That some sûras were of considerable length from the first is seen, for example, from xii., which contains a short introduction, then the history of Joseph, and then a few concluding observations, and is therefore perfectly homogeneous. In like manner, xx., which is mainly occupied with the history of Moses, forms a complete whole. The same is true of xviii., which at first sight seems to fall into several pieces; the history of the seven sleepers, the grotesque narrative about Moses, and that about Alexander “the Horned,” are all connected together, and the same rhyme runs through the whole sûra. Even in the separate narrations we may observe how readily the Koran passes from one subject to another, how little care is taken to express all the transitions of thought, and how frequently clauses are omitted, which are almost indispensable. We are not at liberty, therefore, in every case where the connection in the Koran is obscure, to say that it is really broken, and set it down as the clumsy patchwork of a later hand. Even in the old Arabic poetry such abrupt transitions are of very frequent occurrence. It is not uncommon for the Koran, after a new subject has been entered on, to return gradually or suddenly to the former theme,—a proof that there at least separation is not to be thought of. In short, however imperfectly the Koran may have been redacted, in the majority of cases the present suras are identical with the originals.

How these revelations actually arose in Mohammed’s mind is a question which it is almost as idle to discuss as it would be to analyse the workings of the mind of a poet. In his early career, sometimes perhaps in its later stages also, many revelations must have burst from him in uncontrollable excitement, so that he could not possibly regard them otherwise than as divine inspirations. We must bear in mind that he was no cold systematic thinker, but an Oriental visionary, brought up in crass superstition, and without intellectual discipline; a man whose nervous temperament had been powerfully worked on by ascetic austerities, and who was all the more irritated by the opposition he encountered, because he had little of the heroic in his nature. Filled with his religious ideas and visions, he might well fancy he heard the angel bidding him recite what was said to him. There may have been many a revelation of this kind which no one ever heard but himself, as he repeated it to himself in the silence of the night (lxxiii. 4). Indeed the Koran itself admits that he forgot some revelations (lxxxvii. 7). But by far the greatest part of the book is undoubtedly the result of deliberation, touched more or less with emotion, and animated by a certain rhetorical rather than poetical glow. Many passages are based upon purely intellectual reflection. It is said that Mohammed occasionally uttered such a passage immediately after one of those epileptic fits which not only his followers, but (for a time at least) he himself also, regarded as tokens of intercourse with the higher powers. If that is the case, it is impossible to say whether the trick was in the utterance of the revelation or in the fit itself.

How the various pieces of the Koran took literary form is uncertain. Mohammed himself, so far as we can discover, never wrote down anything. The question whether he could read and write has been much debated among Moslems, unfortunately more with dogmatic arguments and spurious traditions than authentic proofs. At present, one is inclined to say that he was not altogether ignorant of these arts, but that from want of practice he found it convenient to employ some one else whenever he had anything to write. After the flight to Medina (a.d. 622) we are told that short pieces—chiefly legal decisions—were taken down immediately after they were revealed, by an adherent whom he summoned for the purpose; so that nothing stood in the way of their publication. Hence it is probable that in Mecca, where the art of writing was commoner than in Medina, he had already begun to have his oracles committed to writing. That even long portions of the Koran existed in written form from an early date may be pretty safely inferred from various indications; especially from the fact that in Mecca the Prophet had caused insertions to be made, and pieces to be erased in his previous revelations. For we cannot suppose that he knew the longer sιiras by heart so perfectly that he was able after a time to lay his finger upon any particular passage. In some instances, indeed, he may have relied too much on his memory. For example, he seems to have occasionally dictated the same sιιra to different persons in slightly different terms. In such cases, no doubt, he may have partly intended to introduce improvements; and so long as the difference was merely in expression, without affecting the sense, it could occasion no perplexity to his followers. None of them had literary pedantry enough to question the consistency of the divine revelation on that ground. In particular instances, however, the difference of reading was too important to be overlooked. Thus the Koran itself confesses that the unbelievers cast it up as a reproach to the Prophet that God sometimes substituted one verse for another (xvi. 103). On one occasion, when a dispute arose between two of his own followers as to the true reading of a passage which both had received from the Prophet himself, Mohammed is said to have explained that the Koran was revealed in seven forms. In this apparently genuine dictum seven stands, of course, as in many other cases, for an indefinite but limited number. But one may imagine what a world of trouble it has cost the Moslem theologians to explain the saying in accordance with their dogmatic beliefs. A great number of explanations are current, some of which claim the authority of the Prophet himself; as, indeed, fictitious utterances of Mohammed play throughout a conspicuous part in the exegesis of the Koran. One very favourite, but utterly untenable interpretation is that the “seven forms” are seven different Arabic dialects.

When such discrepancies came to the cognisance of Mohammed it was doubtless his desire that only one of the conflicting texts should be considered authentic; only he never gave himself much trouble to have his wish carried into effect. Although in theory he was an upholder of verbal inspiration, he did not push the doctrine to its extreme consequences; his practical good sense did not take these things so strictly as the theologians of later centuries. Sometimes, however, he did suppress whole sections or verses, enjoining his followers to efface or forget them, and declaring them to be “abrogated.” A very remarkable case is that of the two verses in liii., when he had recognised three heathen goddesses as exalted beings, possessing influence with God. (Supra, p. 549.)

So much for abrogated readings; the case is somewhat different when we come to the abrogation of laws and directions to the Moslems, which often occurs in the Koran. There is nothing in this at variance with Mohammed’s idea of God. God is to him an absolute despot, who declares a thing right or wrong from no inherent necessity but by his arbitrary fiat. This God varies his commands at pleasure, prescribes one law for the Christians, another for the Jews, and a third for the Moslems; nay, he even changes his instructions to the Moslems when it pleases him. Thus, for example, the Koran contains very different directions, suited to varying circumstances, as to the treatment which idolaters are to receive at the hands of believers. But Mohammed showed no anxiety to have these superseded enactments destroyed. Believers could be in no uncertainty as to which of two contradictory passages remained in force; and they might still find edification in that which had become obsolete. That later generations might not so easily distinguish the “abrogated” from the “abrogating” did not occur to Mohammed, whose vision, naturally enough, seldom extended to the future of his religious community. Current events were invariably kept in view in the revelations. In Medina it called forth the admiration of the Faithful to observe how often God gave them the answer to a question whose settlement was urgently required at the moment. The same naïveté appears in a remark of the Caliph Othmân about a doubtful case: ‘ If the Apostle of God were still alive, methinks there had been a Koran passage revealed on this point.” Not unfrequently the divine word was found to coincide with the advice which Mohammed had received from his most intimate disciples. “Omar was many a time of a certain opinion,” says one tradition, “and the Koran was then revealed accordingly.”

The contents of the different parts of the Koran are extremely varied. Many passages consist of theological or moral reflections. We are reminded of the greatness, the goodness, the righteousness of God as manifested in Nature, in history, and in revelation through the prophets, especially through Mohammed. God is magnified as the One, the All-powerful. Idolatry and all deification of created beings, such as the worship of Christ as the Son of God, are unsparingly condemned. The joys of heaven and the pains of hell are depicted in vivid sensuous imagery, as is also the terror of the whole creation at the advent of the last day and the judgment of the world. Believers receive general moral instruction, as well as directions for special circumstances. The lukewarm are rebuked, the enemies threatened with terrible punishment, both temporal and eternal. To the sceptical the truth of Islam is held forth; and a certain, not very cogent, method of demonstration predominates. In many passages the sacred book falls into a diffuse preaching style, others seem more like proclamations or general orders. A great number contain ceremonial or civil laws, or even special commands to individuals down to such matters as the regulation of Mohammed’s harem. In not a few, definite questions are answered which had actually been propounded to the Prophet by believers or infidels. Mohammed himself, too, repeatedly receives direct injunctions, and does not escape an occasional rebuke. One sιιra (i.) is a prayer, two (cxiii., cxiv.) are magical formulas. Many sûras treat of a single topic, others embrace several.

From the mass of material comprised in the Koran—and the account we have given is far from exhaustive—we should select the histories of the ancient prophets and saints as possessing a peculiar interest. The purpose of Mohammed is to show from these histories how God in former times had rewarded the righteous and punished their enemies. For the most part the old prophets only serve to introduce a little Λariety in point of form, for they are almost in every case facsimiles of Mohammed himself. They preach exactly like him, they have to bring the very same charges against their opponents, who on their part behave exactly as the unbelieving inhabitants of Mecca. The Koran even goes so far as to make Noah contend against the worship of certain false gods, mentioned by name, who were worshipped by the Arabs of Mohammed’s time. In an address which is put in the mouth of Abra ham (xxvi. 75 s<∕q.) the reader quite forgets that it is Abraham, and not Mohammed (or God himself) who is speaking. Other narratives are intended rather for amusement, although they are always well seasoned with edifying phrases. It is no wonder that the godless Koraishites thought these stories of the Koran not nearly so entertaining as those of Rostam and Isρandia,r related by Nadr the son of Hàrith, who had learned on the Euphrates the heroic mythology of the Persians. But the Prophet was so exasperated by this rivalry that when Nadr fell into his power after the battle of Badr, he caused him to be executed; although in all other cases he readily pardoned his fellow-countrymen.

These histories are chiefly about Scripture characters, especially those of the Old Testament. But the deviations from the Biblical narratives are very marked. Many of the alterations are found in the legendary anecdotes of the Jewish Haggada and the New Testament Apocrypha; but many more are due to misconceptions such as only a listener (not the reader of a book) could fall into. The most ignorant Jew could never have mistaken Haman (the minister of Ahasuerus) for the minister of Pharaoh, or identified Miriam the sister of Moses with Mary ( = Miriam) the mother of Christ. In addition to such misconceptions there are sundry capricious alterations, some of them very grotesque, due to Mohammed himself. For instance, in his ignorance of everything out of Arabia, he makes the fertility of Egypt—where rain is almost never seen and never missed—depend on rain instead of the inundations of the Nile (xii. 49). It was through the Jews also that he borrowed his account of Alexander “the Horned”; an epithet which is to be explained, after old Hottinger, from the great multitude of coins where Alexander is represented with the ram’s-horn of Ammon. Besides Jewish and Christian histories there are a few about old Arabian prophets. In these he seems to have handled his materials even more freely than in the others.

The opinion has already been expressed that Mohammed did not make use of written sources. Coincidences and divergences alike can always be accounted for by oral communications from Jews who knew a little and Christians who knew next to nothing. Even in the rare passages where we can trace direct resemblances to the text of the Old Testament (comp. xxi. 105 with Ps. xxxvii. 29; i. 5 with Ps. xxvii. 11) or the New (comp. vii. 48 with Luke xvi. 24; xlvi. 19 with Luke xvi. 25), there is nothing more than might readily have been picked up in conversation with any Jew or Christian. In Medina, where he had the opportunity of becoming acquainted with Jews of some culture, he learned some things out of the Mishna, e.g. V. 35 corresponds almost word for word with Mishna Sank. iv. 5; compare also ii. 183 with Mishna Ber. i. 2. That these are only cases of oral communication will be admitted by any one with the slightest knowledge of the circumstances. Otherwise we might even conclude that Mohammed had studied the Talmud; e.g. the regulation as to ablution by rubbing with sand, where water cannot be obtained (iv. 46), corresponds to a talmudic ordinance {Her. 15 a). Of Christianity he can have been able to learn very little even in Medina; as may be seen from the absurd travesty of the institution of the Eucharist in v. 112 sqq. For the rest, it is highly improbable that before the Koran any real literary production—anything that could be strictly called a book—existed in the Arabic language.

In point of style and artistic effect, the different parts of the Koran are of very unequal value. An unprejudiced and critical reader will certainly find very few passages where his aesthetic susceptibilities are thoroughly satisfied. But he will often be struck, especially in the older pieces, by a wild force of passion, and a vigorous, if not rich, imagination. Descriptions of heaven and hell, and allusions to God’s working in Nature, not unfrequently show a certain amount of poetic power. In other places also the style is sometimes lively and impressive; though it is rarely indeed that we come across such strains of touching simplicity as in the middle of xciii. The greater part of the Koran is decidedly prosaic; much of it indeed is stiff in style. Of course, with such a variety of material, we cannot expect every part to be equally vivacious, or imaginative, or poetic. A decree about the right of inheritance, or a point of ritual, must necessarily be expressed in prose, if it is to be intelligible. No one complains of the civil laws in Exodus or the sacrificial ritual in Leviticus, because they want the fire of Isaiah or the tenderness of Deuteronomy. But Mohammed’s mistake consists in persistent and slavish adherence to the semi-poetic form which he had at first adopted in accordance with his own taste and that of his hearers. For instance, he employs rhyme in dealing with the most prosaic subjects, and thus produces the disagreeable effect of incongruity between style and matter. It has to be considered, however, that many of those sermonizing pieces which are so tedious to us, especially when we read two or three in succession (perhaps in a very inadequate translation), must have had a quite different effeçt when recited under the burning sky and on the barren soil of Mecca. There, thoughts about God’s greatness and man’s duty, which are familiar to us from childhood, were all new to the hearers—it is hearers we have to think of in the first instance, not readers—to whom, at the same time, every allusion had a meaning which often escapes our notice. When Mohammed spoke of the goodness of the Lord in creating the clouds, and bringing them across the cheerless desert, and pouring them out on the earth to restore its rich vegetation, that must have been a picture of thrilling interest to the Arabs, who are accustomed to see from three to five years elapse before a copious shower comes to clothe the wilderness once more with luxuriant pastures. It requires an effort for us, under our clouded skies, to realize in some degree the intensity of that impression.

The fact that scraps of poetical phraseology are specially numerous in the earlier sûras, enables us to understand why the prosaic mercantile community of Mecca regarded their eccentric townsman as a “poet,” or even a “possessed poet.” Mohammed himself had to disclaim such titles, because he felt himself to be a divinely-inspired prophet; but we too, from our standpoint, shall fully acquit him of poetic genius. Like many other predominantly religious characters, he had no appreciation of poetic beauty; and if we may believe one anecdote related of him, at a time when every one made verses he affected ignorance of the most elementary rules of prosody. Hence the style of the Koran is not poetical but rhetorical; and the powerful effect which some portions produce on us is gained by rhetorical means. Accordingly the sacred book has not even the artistic form of poetry; which, among the Arabs, includes a stringent metre, as well as rhyme. The Koran is never metrical, and only a few exceptionally eloquent portions fall into a sort of spontaneous rhythm. On the other hand, the rhyme is regularly maintained; although, especially in the later pieces, after a very slovenly fashion. Rhymed prose was a favourite form of composition among the Arabs of that day, and Mohammed adopted it; but if it imparts a certain sprightliness to some passages, it proves on the whole a burdensome yoke. The Moslems themselves have observed that the tyranny of the rhyme often makes itself apparent in derangement of the order of words, and in the choice of verbal forms which would not otherwise have been employed; e.g. an imperfect instead of a perfect. In one place, to save the rhyme, he calls Mount Sinai Sinin (xcv. 2) instead of Sinà (xxiii. 20); in another Elijah is called llyàsin (xxxvii. 130) instead of Ilyàs (vi. 85; xxxvii. 123). The substance even is modified to suit exigencies of rhyme. Thus the Prophet would scarcely have fixed on the unusual number of eight angels round the throne of God (lxix. 17) if the word thamâniyah, “eight,” had not happened to fall in so well with the rhyme. And when lv. speaks of two heavenly gardens, each with two fountains and two kinds of fruit, and again of two similar gardens, all this is simply because the dual termination (dn) corresponds to the syllable that controls the rhyme in that whole sιira. In the later pieces, Mohammed often inserts edifying remarks, entirely out of keeping with the context, merely to complete his rhyme. In Arabic it is such an easy thing to accumulate masses of words with the same termination, that the gross negligence of the rhyme in the Koran is doubly remarkable. One may say that this is another mark of the Prophet’s want of mental training, and incapacity for introspective criticism.

On the whole, while many parts of the Koran undoubtedly have considerable rhetorical power, even over an unbelieving reader, the book, aesthetically considered, is by no means a first-rate performance. To begin with what we are most competent to criticize, let us look at some of the more extendβd narratives. It has already been noticed how vehement and abrupt they are where they ought to be characterized by epic repose. Indispensable links, both in expression and in the sequence of events, are often omitted, so that to understand these histories is sometimes far easier for us than for those who heard them first, because we know most of them from better sources. Along with this, there is a great deal of superfluous verbiage; and nowhere do we find a steady advance in the narration. Contrast in these respects the history of Joseph (xii.) and its glaring improprieties, with the admirably-conceived and admirably-executed story in Genesis. Similar faults are found in the non-narrative portions of the Koran. The connexion of ideas is extremely loose, and even the syntax betrays great awkwardness. Anacolutha are of frequent occurrence, and cannot be explained as conscious literary devices. Many sentences begin with a “when” or “on the day when” which seems to hover in the air, so that the commentators are driven to supply a “think of this” or some such ellipsis. Again, there is no great literary skill evinced in the frequent and needless harping on the same words and phrases; in xviii., for example, “till that” (hattà idhà) occurs no fewer than eight times. Mohammed, in short, is not in any sense a master of style. This opinion will be endorsed by any European who reads through the book with an impartial spirit and some knowledge of the language, without taking into account the tiresome effect of its endless iterations. But in the ears of every pious Moslem such a judgment will sound almost as shocking as downright atheism or polytheism. Among the Moslems, the Koran has always been looked on as the most perfect model of style and language. This feature of it is in their dogmatic the greatest of all miracles, the incontestable proof of its divine origin. Such a view on the part of men who knew Arabic infinitely better than the most accomplished European Arabist will ever do, may well startle us. In fact, the Koran boldly challenged its opponents to produce ten süras, or even a single one, like those of the sacred book, and they never did so. That, to be sure, on calm reflexion, is not so very surprising. Revelations of the kind which Mohammed uttered, no unbeliever could produce without making himself a laughing-stock. However little real originality there is in Mohammed’s doctrines, as against his own countrymen he was thoroughly original, even in the form of his oracles. To compose such revelations at will was beyond the power of the most expert literary artist; it would have required either a prophet, or a shameless impostor. And if such a character appeared after Mohammed, still he could never be anything but an imitator, like the false prophets who arose about the time of his death and afterwards. That the adversaries should produce any sample whatsoever of poetry or rhetoric equal to the Koran is not at all what the Prophet demands. In that case he would have been put to shame, even in the eyes of many of his own followers, by the first poem that came to hand. Nevertheless, it is on a false interpretation of this challenge that the dogma of the incomparable excellence of the style and diction of the Koran is based. The rest has been accomplished by dogmatic prejudice, which is quite capable of working other miracles besides turning a defective literary production into an unrivalled masterpiece in the eyes of believers. This view once accepted, the next step was to find everywhere evidence of the perfection of the style and language. And if here and there, as one can scarcely doubt, there was among the old Moslems a lover of poetry who had his difficulties about this dogma, he had to beware of uttering an opinion which might have cost him his head. We know of at least one rationalistic theologian who defined the dogma in such a way that we can see he did not believe it (Shahrastâni, p. 39). The truth is, it would have been a miracle indeed if the style of the Koran had been perfect. For although there was at that time a recognized poetical style, already degenerating to mannerism, a prose style did not exist. All beginnings are difficult; and it can never be esteemed a serious charge against Mohammed that his book, the first prose work of a high order in the language, testifies to the awkwardness of the beginner. And further, we must always remember that entertainment and aesthetic effect were at most subsidiary objects. The great aim was persuasion and conversion; and, say what we will, that aim has been realized on the most imposing scale.

Mohammed repeatedly calls attention to the fact that the Koran is not written, like other sacred books, in a strange language, but in Arabic, and therefore is intelligible to all. At that time, along with foreign ideas, many foreign words had crept into the language; especially Aramaic terms for religious conceptions of Jewish or Christian origin. Some of these had already passed into general use, while others were confined to a more limited circle. Mohammed, who could not fully express his new ideas in the common language of his countrymen, but had frequently to find out new terms for himself, made free use of such Jewish and Christian words, as was done, though perhaps to a smaller extent, by certain thinkers and poets of that age who had more or less risen above the level of heathenism. In Mohammed’s case this is the less wonderful, because he was indebted to the instruction of Jews and Christians whose Arabic—as the Koran pretty clearly intimates with regard to one of them—was very defective. Nor is it very surprising to find that his use of these words is sometimes as much at fault as his comprehension of the histories which he learned from the same people—that he applies Aramaic expressions as incorrectly as many uneducated persons now employ words derived from the French. Thus, forkdn means really “redemption,” but Mohammed (misled by the Arabic meaning of the root j y j “sever,” “decide”) uses it for “revelation.” Milla is properly “Word,” but in the Koran “religion.” Illiyun (lxxxiii. 18, 19) is apparently the Hebrew name of God, El yon, “the Most High”; Mohammed uses it of a heavenly book (see S. Fraenkel, De vocabulis in antiquis Arabum carminibus et in Corano peregrinis, Leyden, 1880, p. 23). So again the word mathànî is, as Geiger has conjectured, the regular plural of the Aramaic matlinithd, which is the same as the Hebrew Mishna, and denotes, in Jewish usage, a legal decision of some of the ancient Rabbins. But in the Koran “the seven Mathàni” (xv. 87) are probably the seven verses of sιira i., so that Mohammed appears to have understood it in the sense of “saying,” or “sen tence” (comp, xxxix. 24). Words of Christian origin are less frequent in the Koran. It is an interesting fact that of these a few have come over from the Abyssinian; such as haivdriyun, “apostles,” màida, “table,” and two or three others; these all make their first appearance in sûras of the Medina period. The word shaitân, “Satan,” which was likewise borrowed, at least in the first instance, from the Abyssinian, had probably been already introduced into the language. Sprenger has rightly observed that Mohammed makes a certain parade of these foreign terms, as of other peculiarly constructed expressions; in this he followed a favourite practice of contemporary poets. It is the tendency of the imperfectly educated to delight in out-of-the-way expressions, and on such minds they readily produce a remarkably solemn and mysterious impression. This was exactly the kind of effect that Mohammed desired, and to secure it he seems even to have invented a few odd vocables, as ylιislin (lxix. 36), sijjin (lxxxiii. 7, 8), tasnim (lxxxiii. 27), and salsabU (lxxvi. 18). But, of course, the necessity of enabling his hearers to understand ideas which they must have found sufficiently novel in themselves, imposed tolerably narrow limits on such eccentricities.

The constituents of our present Koran belong partly to the Mecca period (before 622 a.d.), partly to the period commencing with the flight to Medina (from the autumn of 622 to 8th June 632). Mohammed’s position in Medina was entirely different from that which he had occupied in his native town. In the former he was from the first the leader of a powerful party, and gradually became the autocratic ruler of Arabia; in the latter he was only the despised preacher of a small congregation. This difference, as was to be expected, appears in the Koran. The Medina pieces, whether entire sûras or isolated passages interpolated in Meccan sûras, are accordingly pretty broadly distinct, as to their contents, from those issued in Mecca. In the great majority of cases there can be no doubt whatever whether a piece first saw the light in Mecca or in Medina; and for the most part the internal evidence is borne out by Moslem tradition. And since the revelations given in Medina frequently take notice of events about which we have pretty accurate information, and whose dates are at least approximately known, we are often in a position to fix their date with at any rate considerable certainty; here again tradition renders valuable assistance. Even with regard to the Medina passages, however, a great deal remains uncertain, partly because the allusions to historical events and circumstances are generally rather obscure, partly because traditions about the occasion of the revelation of the various pieces are often fluctuating, and often rest on misunderstanding or arbitrary conjecture. But at all events it is far easier to arrange in some sort of chronological order the Medina sûras than those composed in Mecca. There is, indeed, one tradition which professes to furnish a chronological list of all the sûras. But not to mention that it occurs in several divergent forms, and that it takes no account of the fact that our present sûras are partly composed of pieces of different dates, it contains so many suspicious or undoubtedly false statements, that it is impossible to attach any great importance to it. Besides, it is a priori unlikely that a contemporary of Mohammed should have draλvn up such a list; and if any one had made the attempt, he would have found it almost impossible to obtain reliable information as to the order of the earlier Meccan sûras. We have in this list no genuine tradition, but rather the lucubrations of an undoubtedly conscientious Moslem critic, who may have lived about a century after the Flight.

Among the revelations put forth in Mecca there is a considerable number of (for the most part) short sûras, which strike every attentive reader as being the oldest. They are in an altogether different strain from many others, and in their whole composition they show least resemblance to the Medina pieces. It is no doubt conceivable—as Sprenger supposes—that Mohammed might have returned at intervals to his earlier manner; but since this group possesses a remarkable similarity of style, and since the gradual formation of a different style is on the whole an unmistakable fact, the assumption has little probability; and we shall therefore abide by the opinion that these form a distinct group. At the opposite extreme from them stands another cluster, showing quite obvious affinities with the style of the Medina sûras, which must therefore be assigned to the later part of the Prophet’s work in Mecca. Between these two groups stand a number of other Meccan sûras, which in every respect mark the transition from the first period to the third. It need hardly be said that the three, periods—which were first distinguished by Professor Weil—are not separated by sharp lines of division. With regard to some sûras, it may be doubtful whether they ought to be reckoned amongst the middle group, or with one or other of the extremes. And it is altogether impossible, within these groups, to establish even a probable chronological arrangement of the individual revelations. In default of clear allusions to well-known events, or events whose date can be deter mined, we might indeed endeavour to trace the psychological development of the Prophet by means of the Koran, and arrange its parts accordingly. But in such an undertaking one is always apt to take subjective assumptions or mere fancies for established data. Good traditions about the origin of the Meccan revelations are not very numerous. In fact the whole history of Mohammed previous to the Flight is so imperfectly related that we are not even sure in what year he appeared as a prophet. Probably it was in a.d. 610; it may have been somewhat earlier, but scarcely later. If, as one tradition says, xxx. 1 sq. (“The Romans are overcome in the nearest neighbouring land ”) refers to the defeat of the Byzantines by the Persians, not far from Damascus, about the spring of 614, it would follow that the third group, to which this passage belongs, covers the greater part of the Meccan period. And it is not in itself unlikely that the passionate vehemence which characterizes the first group was of short duration. Nor is the assumption contradicted by the tolerably well-attested, though far from incontestable statement, that when Omar was converted (a.d. 615 or 616), XX., which belongs to the second group, already existed in writing. But the reference of xxx. 1 sq. to this particular battle is by no means so certain that positive conclusions can be drawn from it. It is the same with other allusions in the Meccan sûras to occurrences whose chronology can be partially ascertained. It is better, therefore, to rest satisfied with a merely relative determination of the order of even the three great clusters of Meccan revelations.

In the pieces of the first period the convulsive excitement of the Prophet often expresses itself with the utmost vehemence. He is so carried away by his emotion that he cannot choose his words; they seem rather to burst from him. Many of these pieces remind us of the oracles of the old heathen soothsayers, whose style is known to us from imitations, although we have perhaps not a single genuine specimen. Like those other oracles, the sûras of this period, which are never very long, are composed of short sentences with tolerably pure but rapidly-changing rhymes. The oaths, too, with which many of them begin, were largely used by the soothsayers. Some of these oaths are very uncouth and hard to understand, some of them perhaps were not meant to be understood, for indeed all sorts of strange things are met with in these chapters. Here and there Mohammed speaks of visions, and appears even to see angels before him in bodily form. There are some intensely vivid descriptions of the resurrection and the last day which must have exercised a demonic power over men who were quite unfamiliar with such pictures. Other pieces paint in glowing colours the joys of heaven and the pains of hell. However, the sûras of this period are not all so wild as these; and those which are conceived in a calmer mood appear to be the oldest. Yet, one must repeat, it is exceedingly difficult to make out any strict chronological sequence. For instance, it is by no means certain whether the beginning of xcvi. is really, what a widely-circulated tradition calls it, the oldest part of the whole Koran. That tradition goes back to the Prophet’s favourite wife 'Âisha; but as she was not born at the time when the revelation is said to have been made, it can only contain at the best what Mohammed told her years afterwards, from his own not very clear recollection, with or without fictitious additions. And, moreover, there are other pieces mentioned by others as the oldest. In any case xcvi. 1 sqq. is certainly very early. According to the traditional view, which appears to be correct, it treats of a vision in which the Prophet receives an injunction to recite a revelation conveyed to him by the angel. It is interesting to observe that here already two things are brought forward as proofs of the omnipotence and care of God: one is the creation of man out of a seminal drop—an idea to which Mohammed often recurs; the other is the then recently introduced art of writing, which the Prophet instinctively seizes on as a means of propagating his doctrines. It was only after Mohammed encountered obstinate resistance that the tone of the revelations became thoroughly passionate. In such cases he was not slow to utter terrible threats against those who ridiculed the preaching of the unity of God, of the resurrection, and of the judgment. His own uncle Abû Lahab had rudely repelled him, and in a brief special sûra (cxi.) he and his wife are consigned to hell. The sûras of this period form almost exclusively the concluding portions of the present text. One is disposed to assume, however, that they were at one time more numerous, and that many of them were lost at an early period.

Since Mohammed’s strength lay in his enthusiastic and fiery imagination rather than in the wealth of ideas and clearness of abstract thought on which exact reasoning depends, it follows that the older sûras, in which the former qualities have free scope, must be more attractive to us than the later. In the sûras of the second period the imaginative glow perceptibly diminishes; there is still fire and animation, but the tone becomes gradually more prosaic. As the feverish restlessness subsides, the periods are drawn out, and the revelations as a whole become longer. The truth of the new doctrine is proved by accumulated instances of God’s working in nature and in history; the objections of opponents, whether advanced in good faith or in jest, are controverted by arguments; but the demonstration is often confused or even weak. The histories of the earlier prophets, which had occasionally been briefly touched on in the first period, are now related, sometimes at great length. On the whole, the charm of the style is passing away.

There is one piece of the Koran, belonging to the beginning of this period, if not to the close of the former, which claims particular notice. This is i., the Lord’s Prayer of the Moslems, and beyond dispute the gem of the Koran. The words of this sûra, which is known as al-fâtiha (“the opening one ”) are as follows;—

(1) In the name of God, the compassionate compassioner. (2) Praise be [literally “is”] to God, the Lord of the worlds, (3) the compassionate compassioner, (4) the Sovereign of the day of judgment. (5) Thee do we worship and of Thee do we beg assistance. (6) Direct us in the right way; (7) in the way of those to whom Thou hast been gracious, on whom there is no wrath, and who go not astray.

The thoughts are so simple as to need no explanation; and yet the prayer is full of meaning. It is true that there is not a single original idea of Mohammed’s in it. Several words and turns of expression are borrowed directly from the Jews, in particular the designation of God as the “Compassioner,” Rahman. This is simply the Jewish Rahmânà, which was a favourite name for God in the Talmudic period. Mohammed seems for a while to have entertained the thought of adopting al-Rahmân as a proper name of God, in place of Allah, which was already used by the heathens. This purpose he ultimately relinquished, but it is just in the sûras of the second period that the use of Ralymàn is specially frequent. It was probably in the first sûra also that Mohammed first introduced the formula, “In the name of God,” etc. It is to be regretted that this prayer must lose its effect through too frequent use, fcr every Moslem who says his five prayers regularly—as the most of them do—repeats it not less than twenty times a day.

The suras of the third Meccan period, which form a pretty large part of our present Koran, are almost entirely prosaic. Some of the revelations are of considerable extent, and the single verses also are much longer than in the older sûras. Only now and then a gleam of poetic power flashes out. A sermonizing tone predominates. The sûras are very edifying for one who is already reconciled to their import, but to us at least they do not seem very well fitted to carry conviction to the minds of unbelievers. That impression, however, is not correct, for in reality the demonstrations of these longer Meccan sûras appear to have been peculiarly influential for the propagation of Islam. Mohammed’s mission was not to Europeans, but to a people who, though quick-witted and receptive, were not accustomed to logical thinking, while they had outgrown their ancient religion.

When we reach the Medina period it becomes, as has been indicated, much easier to understand the revelations in their historical relations, since our knowledge of the history of Mohammed in Medina is tolerably complete. In many cases the historical occasion is perfectly clear, in others we can at least recognize the general situation from which they arose, and thus approximately fix their time. There still remains, however, a remnant, of which we can only say that it belongs to Medina.

The style of this period bears a pretty close resemblance to that of the latest Meccan period. It is for the most part pure prose, enriched by occasional rhetorical embellishments. Yet even here there are many bright and impressive passages, especially in those sections which may be regarded as proclamations to the army of the faithful. For the Moslems, Mohammed has many different messages. At one time it is a summons to do battle for the faith; at another, a series of reflexions on recently experienced success or misfortune, or a rebuke for their weak faith; or an exhortation to virtue, and so on. He often addresses himself to the “doubters,” some of whom vacillate between faith and unbelief, others make a pretence of faith, while others scarcely take the trouble even to do that. They are no consolidated party, but to Mohammed they are all equally vexatious, because, as soon as danger has to be encountered, or a contribution is levied, they all alike fall away. There are frequent outbursts, ever increasing in bitterness, against the Jews, who were very numerous in Medina and its neighbourhood when Mohammed arrived. He has much less to say against the Christians, with whom he never came closely in contact; and as for the idolaters, there was little occasion in Medina to have many words with them. A part of the Medina pieces consists of formal laws belonging to the ceremonial, civil, and criminal codes; or directions about certain temporary complications. The most objectionable parts of the whole Koran are those which treat of Mohammed’s relations with women. The laws and regulations were generally very concise revelations, but most of them have been amalgamated with other pieces of similar or dissimilar import, and are now found in very long sûras.

Such is an imperfect sketch of the composition and the internal history of the Koran, but it is probably sufficient to show that the book is a very heterogeneous collection. If only those passages had been preserved which had a permanent value for the theology, the ethics, or the jurisprudence of the Moslems, a few fragments would have been amply sufficient. Fortunately for knowledge, respect for the sacredness of the letter has led to the collection of all the revelations that could possibly be collected,—the “abrogating” along with the “abrogated,” passages referring to passing circumstances as well as those of lasting importance. Every one who takes up the book in the proper religious frame of mind, like most of the Moslems, reads pieces directed against long-obsolete absurd customs of Mecca just as devoutly as the weightiest moral precepts,—perhaps even more devoutly, because he does not understand them so well.

At the head of twenty-nine of the sûras stand certain initial letters, from which no clear sense can be obtained Thus, before ii. iii. xxxi. xxxii. we find (Alif Làm Mim), before xl.-xlvi. f⅛, {Hà Mim). Nöldeke at one time suggested that these initials did not belong to Mohammed’s text, but might be the monograms of possessors of codices, which, through negligence on the part of the editors, were incorporated in the final form of the Koran; he now deems it more probable that they are to be traced to the Prophet himself, as Sprenger, Loth, and others suppose. One cannot indeed admit the truth of Loth’s statement that in the proper opening words of these sûras we may generally find an allusion to the accompanying initials; but it can scarcely be accidental that the first verse of the great majority of them (in iii. it is the second verse) contains the word “book,” “revelation,” or some equivalent. They usually begin with: “This is the book,” or “Revelation (‘down sending’) of the book,” or something similar. Of sûras which commence in this way only a few (xviii. xxiv. xxv. xxxix.) want the initials, while only xxix. and xxx. have the initials and begin differently. These few exceptions may easily have proceeded from ancient corruptions; at all events they cannot neutralize the evidence of the greater number. Mohammed seems to have meant these letters for a mystic reference to the archetypal text in heaven. To a man who regarded the art of writing, of which at the best he had but a slight knowledge, as something supernatural, and who lived amongst illiterate people, an ABC may well have seemed more significant than to us who have been initiated into the nfιysteries of this art from our childhood. The Prophet himself can hardly have attached any particular meaning to these symbols: they served their purpose if they conveyed an impression of solemnity and enigmatical obscurity. In fact, the Koran admits that it contains many things which neither can be, nor were intended to be, understood (iii. 5). To regard these letters as ciphers is a precarious hypothesis, for the simple reason that cryptography is not to be looked for in the very infancy of Arabic writing. If they are actually ciphers, the multiplicity of possible explanations at once precludes the hope of a plausible interpretation. None of the efforts in this direction, whether by Moslem scholars or by Europeans, have led to convincing results. This remark applies even to the ingenious conjecture of Sprenger, that the letters ^= a {Kdf Hé Yé 'Ain Sad) before xix. (which treats of John and Jesus, and, according to tradition, was sent to the Christian king of Abyssinia) stand for Jesus Nazarenus Rex Judaeorum. Sprenger arrives at this explanation by a very artificial method; and besides, Mohammed was not so simple as the Moslem traditionalists, who imagined that the Abyssinians could read a piece of the Arabic Koran. It need hardly be said that the Moslems have from of old applied themselves with great assiduity to the decipherment of these initials, and have sometimes found the deepest mysteries in them. Generally, however, they are content with the prudent conclusion, that God alone knows the meaning of these letters.

When Mohammed died, the separate pieces of the Koran, notwithstanding their theoretical sacredness, existed only in scattered copies; they were consequently in great danger of being partially or entirely destroyed. Many Moslems knew large portions by heart, but certainly no one knew the whole; and a merely oral propagation would have left the door open to all kinds of deliberate and inadvertent alterations. Mohammed himself had never thought of an authentic collection of his revelations; he was usually concerned only with the object of the moment, and the idea that the revelations would be destroyed unless he made provision for their safe preservation, did not enter his mind. A man destitute of literary culture has some difficulty in anticipating the fate of intellectual products. But now, after the death of the Prophet, most of the Arabs revolted against his successor, and had to be reduced to submission by force. Especially sanguinary was the contest against the prophet Maslama (Mubarrad, Kâmil 443, 5), an imitator of Mohammed, commonly known by the derisive diminutive Mosailima. At that time (a.d. 633) many of the most devoted Moslems fell, the very men who knew most Koran pieces by heart. Omar then began to fear that the Koran might be entirely forgotten, and he induced the Caliph Abûbekr to undertake the collection of all its parts. The Caliph laid the duty on Zaid, the son of Thâbit, a native of Medina, then about twenty-two years of age, who had often acted as amanuensis to the Prophet, in whose service he is even said to have learned the Jewish letters. The account of this collection of the Koran has reached us in several substantially identical forms, and goes back to Zaid himself. According to it, he collected the revelations from copies written on flat stones, pieces of leather, ribs of palm-leaves (not palm-leaves themselves), and such-like material, but chiefly “from the breasts of men,” i.e. from their memory. From these he wrote a fair copy, which he gave to Abιibekr, from whom it came to his successor Omar, who again bequeathed it to his daughter Hafsa, one of the widows of the Prophet. This redaction, commonly called al-sohof (“the leaves”), had from the first no canonical authority; and its internal arrangement can only be conjectured.

The Moslems were as far as ever from possessing a uniform text of the Koran. The bravest of their warriors sometimes knew deplorably little about it; distinction on that field they cheerfully accorded to pious men like Ibn Mas'üd. It was inevitable, however, that discrepancies should emerge between the texts of professed scholars, and as these men in their several localities were authorities on the reading of the Koran, quarrels began to break out between the levies from different districts about the true form of the sacred book. During a campaign in a.h. 30 (a.d. 650-1), Hodhaifa, the victor in the great and decisive battle of NelιΛ-wand—which was to the empire of the Sâsûnids what Gaugamela was to that of the Achaemenidae—perceived that such disputes might become dangerous, and therefore urged on the Caliph Othmàn the necessity for a universally binding text. The matter was entrusted to Zaid, who had made the former collection, with three leading Koraishites. These brought together as many copies as they could lay their hands on, and prepared an edition which was to be canonical for all Moslems. To prevent any further disputes, they burned all the other codices excent that of Hafsa, which, however, was soon afterwards destroyed by Merwân, the governor of Medina. The destruction of the earlier codices was an irreparable loss to criticism; but, for the essentially political object of putting an end to controversies by admitting only one form of the common book of religion and of law, this measure was necessary.

The result of these labours is in our hands; as to how they were conducted we have no trustworthy information, tradition being here too much under the influence of dogmatic presuppositions. The critical methods of a modern scientific commission will not be expected of an age when the highest literary education for an Arab consisted in ability to read and write. It now seems to me highly probable that this second redaction took this simple form: Zaid read off from the codex which he had previously written, and his associates, simultaneously or successively, wrote one copy each to his dictation. It certainly cannot have been by chance that, according to sure tradition, they wrote exactly four copies. Be that as it may, it is impossible now to distinguish in the present form of the book what belongs to the first redaction from what is due to the second.

In the arrangement of the separate sections, a classification according to contents was impracticable because of the variety of subjects often dealt with in one sûra. A chronological arrangement was out of the question, because the chronology of the older pieces must have been imperfectly known, and because in some cases passages of different dates had been joined together. Indeed, systematic principles of this kind were altogether disregarded at that period. The pieces were accordingly arranged in indiscriminate order, the only rule observed being to place the long sûras first and the shorter towards the end, and even that was far from strictly adhered to. The short opening sûra is so placed on account of its superiority to the rest, and two magical formulae are kept for a sort of protection at the end; these are the only special traces of design. The combination of pieces of different origin may proceed partly from the possessors of the codices from which Zaid compiled his first complete copy, partly from Zaid himself. The individual sûras are separated simply by the superscription—“In the name of God, the compassionate Compassioner,” which is wanting only in the ninth. The additional headings found in our texts (the name of the sûra, the number of verses, etc.) were not in the original codices, and form no integral part of the Koran.

It is said that Othmân directed Zaid and his associates, in cases of disagreement, to follow the Koraish dialect; but, though well attested, this account can scarcely be correct. The extremely primitive writing of those days was quite incapable of rendering such minute differences as can have existed between the pronunciation of Mecca and that of Medina.

Othmân’s Koran was not complete. Some passages are evidently fragmentary; and a few detached pieces are still extant which were originally parts of the Koran, although they have been omitted by Zaid. Amongst these are some which there is no reason to suppose Mohammed desired to suppress. Zaid may easily have overlooked a few stray fragments, but that he purposely omitted anything which he believed to belong to the Koran is very unlikely. It has been conjectured that in deference to his superiors he kept out of the book the names of Mohammed’s enemies, if they or their families came afterwards to be respected. But it must be remembered that it was never Mohammed’s practice to refer explicitly to contemporary persons and affairs in the Koran. Only a single friend, his adopted son Zaid (xxxiii. 37), and a single enemy, his uncle Abû Lahab (cxi.)—and these for very special reasons—are mentioned by name; and the name of the latter has been left in the Koran with a fearful curse annexed to it, although his son had embraced Islam before the death of Mohammed. So, on the other hand, there is no single verse or clause which can be plausibly made out to be an interpolation by Zaid at the instance of Abûbekr, Omar, or Othmân. Slight clerical errors there may have been, but the Koran of Othmân contains none but genuine elements,—though sometimes in very strange order.

Of the four exemplars of Othmân’s Koran, one was kept in Medina, and one was sent to each of the three metropolitan cities, Cufa, Basra, and Damascus. It can still be pretty clearly shown in detail that these four codices deviated from one another in points of orthography, in the insertion or omission of a m (“and”), and such-like minutiae; but these variations nowhere affect the sense. All later manuscripts are derived from these four originals.

At the same time, the other forms of the Koran did not at once become extinct. In particular we have some information about the codex of Obay. If the list which gives the order of its sûras is correct, it must have contained substantially the same materials as our text; in that case Obay must have used the original collection of Zaid. The same is true of the codex of Ibn Mas'ûd, of which we have also a catalogue. It appears that the principle of putting the longer sûras before the shorter was more consistently carried out by him than by Zaid. He omits i. and the magical formulae of cxiii. cxiv. Obay, on the other hand, had embodied two additional short prayers, which we may regard as Mohammed’s. One can easily understand that differences of opinion may have existed as to whether and how far formularies of this kind belonged to the Koran. Some of the divergent readings of both these texts have been preserved, as well as a considerable number of other ancient variants. Most of them are decidedly inferior to the received readings, but some are quite as good, and a few deserve preference.

The only man who appears to have seriously opposed the general introduction of Othmân’s text is Ibn Mas'ûd. He was one of the oldest disciples of the Prophet, and had often rendered him personal service; but he was a man of contracted views, although he is one of the pillars of Moslem theology. His opposition had no effect. Now when we consider that at that time there were many Moslems who had heard the Koran from the mouth of the Prophet, that other measures of the imbecile Othmân met with the most vehement resistance on the part of the bigoted champions of the faith, that these were still further incited against him by some of his ambitious old comrades until at last they murdered him, and finally that in the civil wars after his death the several parties were glad of any pretext for branding their opponents as infidels;—when we consider all this, we must regard it as a strong testimony in favour of Othmân’s Koran that no party, not even that of 'Ali, found fault with his conduct in this matter, or repudiated the text formed by Zaid, who was one of the most devoted adherents of Othmân and his family.

But this redaction is not the close of the textual history of the Koran. The ancient Arabic alphabet was very imperfect; it not only wanted marks for the short, and in part even for the long vowels, but it often expressed several consonants by the same sign. Hence there were many words which could be read in very different ways. This variety of possible readings was at first very great, and many readers seem to have actually made it their object to discover pronunciations which were new, provided they were at all appropriate to the ambiguous text. There was also a dialectic license in grammatical forms, which had not as yet been greatly restricted. An effort was made by many to establish a more refined pronunciation for the Koran than was usual in common life or in secular literature. The various schools of “readers” differed very widely from one another; although for the most part there was no important divergence as to the sense of words. A few of them gradually rose to special authority, and the rest disappeared. Seven readers are generally reckoned chief authorities, but for practical purposes this number was continually reduced in process of time; so that at present only two “reading-styles” are in actual use,— the common style of Hafs, and that of Nafi', which prevails in Africa to the west of Egypt. There is, however, a very comprehensive massoretic literature in which a number of other styles are indicated. The invention of vowel-signs, of diacritic points to distinguish similarly formed consonants, and of other orthographic signs, soon put a stop to arbitrary conjectures on the part of the readers. Many zealots objected to the introduction of these innovations in the sacred text, but theological consistency had to yield to practical necessity. In accurate codices, indeed, all such additions, as well as the titles of the sιira, etc., are written in coloured ink, while the black characters profess to represent exactly the original of Othman. But there is probably no copy quite faithful in this respect.

In European libraries, besides innumerable modern manuscripts of the Koran, there are also codices, or fragments, of high antiquity, some of them probably dating from the 1st century of the Flight. For the restoration of the text, however, the works of ancient scholars on its readings and modes of writing are more important than the manuscripts; which, however elegantly they may be written and ornamented, proceed from irresponsible copyists. The original, written by Othman himself, has indeed been exhibited in various parts of the Mohammedan world. The library of the India Office contains one such manuscript, bearing the subscription: “Written by Othman the son of ’Affan.” These, of course, are barefaced forgeries, although of very ancient date; so .are those which profess to be from the hand of 'All, one of which is preserved in the same library. In recent times the Koran has been often printed and lithographed, both in the East and the West.

Shortly after Mohammed’s death certain individuals applied themselves to the exposition of the Koran. Much of it was obscure from the beginning, other sections were unintelligible apart from a knowledge of the circumstances of their origin. Unfortunately, those who took possession of this field were not very honourable. Ibn 'Abbâs, a cousin of Mohammed’s, and the chief source of the traditional exegesis of the Koran, has, on theological and other grounds, given currency to a number of falsehoods; and at least some of lιis pupils have emulated his example. These earliest expositions dealt more with the sense and connexion of whole verses than with the separate words. Afterwards, as the knowledge of the old language declined, and the study of philology arose, more attention began to be paid to the explanation of vocables. A good many fragments of this older theological and philological exegesis have survived from the first two centuries of the Flight, although we have no complete commentary of this period. Most of the expository material will perhaps be found in the very large commentary of the celebrated Tabari (a.d. 839-923), of which an almost complete copy is in the Viceregal library at Cairo. Another very famous commentary is that of Zamakhshari (λ.d. 1075-1144), edited by Nassau-Lees, Calcutta, 1859; but this scholar, with his great insight and still greater subtlety, is too apt to read his own scholastic ideas into the Koran. The favourite commentary of Baidâwi (o&. a.d. 1286), edited by Fleischer, Leipsic, 1846-1848, is little more than an abridgment of Zamakhshari’s. Thousands of commentaries on the Koran, some of them of prodigious size, have been written by Moslems; and even the number of those still extant in manuscript is by no means small. Although these works all contain much that is useless or false, yet they are invaluable aids to our understanding of the sacred book. An unbiassed European can, no doubt, see many things at a glance more clearly than a good Moslem who is under the influence of religious prejudice; but we should still be helpless without the exegetical literature of the Mohammedans. Nevertheless, a great deal remains to be accomplished by European scholarship for the correct interpretation of the Koran. We want, for example, an exhaustive classification and discussion of all the Jewish elements in the Koran; a praiseworthy beginning has already been made in Geiger’s youthful essay: Was hat Mahomet aus dem Judenthum auf genommen t (Bonn, 1833). We want especially a thorough commentary, executed with the methods and resources of modern science. No European language, it would seem, can even boast of a translation which completely satisfies modern requirements. The best are in English; where we have the extremely paraphrastic, but for its time admirable translation of Sale (repeatedly printed), that of Rod well (1861), which seeks to give the pieces in chronological order, and that of Palmer (1880), who wisely follows the traditional arrangements. The introduction which accompanies Palmer’s translation is not in all respects abreast of the most recent scholarship. Considerable extracts from the Koran are well translated in E. W. Lane’s Selections from the Kur -άη.

Besides commentaries on the whole Koran, or on special parts and topics, the Moslems possess a whole literature bearing on their sacred book. There are works on the spelling and right pronunciation of the Koran, works on the beauty of its language, on the number of its verses, words and letters, etc.; nay* there are even works which would nowadays be called “historical and critical introductions.” Moreover, the origin of Arabic philology is intimately connected with the recitation and exegesis of the Koran. To exhibit the importance of the sacred book for the whole mental life of the Moslems would be simply to write the history of that life itself; for there is no department in which its all-pervading, but unfortunately not always salutary influence has not been felt.

The unbounded reverence of the Moslems for the Koran reaches its climax in the dogma that this book, as the divine word, i.e. thought, is immanent in God, and consequently eternal and uncreated. That dogma has been accepted by almost all Mohammedans since the beginning of the 3d century. Some theologians did indeed protest against it with great energy; it was in fact too preposterous to declare that a book composed of unstable words and letters, and full of variants, was absolutely divine. But what were the distinctions and sophisms of the theologians for, if they could not remove such contradictions, and convict their opponents of heresy 1

The following works may be specially consulted: Weil, Einleitung in den Koran, 2ded., 1878; Th. Nöldeke, Geschichte des Qordn’s (Gottingen, 1860); and the Lives of Mohammed by Muir and Sprenger. (TH. Is.)

Index. [table] [table] [table] [table] [table] [table]

Kote.—Arabic has only three short vowels, ranging between the short sounds of a and e, e and i, o and u respectively. In the transcription adopted these are given by αore, i and o respectively. The. corresponding long vowels are ά, i, ιi. The latter two have the sound of English ee and oo, and are so written by some English scholars. In the transcription of consonants th is as the th in thin, dh the th in the; dots are put under hard letters which have no exact English equivalent; kh (often written ch) is nearly the Scottish or German ch; ' is a deep breathing, seldom pronounced by Europeans; gh a guttural something like modern Greek y or the Northumberland burr. In a few names the conventional spelling is used. In proper names b. stands for ibn, “son of.”