Chapter 7

YUSUF STUDIES THE SCRIPTURES.--CONNECTING EVENTS.

"Surely an humble husbandman that serveth God is better than a proud philosopher who, neglecting himself, is occupied in studying the course of the heavens."--_Thomas á Kempis._

For many weeks, even months, after this, Yusuf's life, to one who knew not the workings of his mind, seemed colorless, and filled with a monotonous round of never-varying occupation. Yet in those few weeks he lived more than in all his life before. Life is not made up of either years or actions--the development of thought and character is the important thing; and in this period of apparent waiting, Yusuf grew and developed in the light of his new understanding.

He read and thought and studied, and yet found time for paying some attention to outer affairs. In Persia he had amassed a considerable fortune, which he had conveyed to Mecca in the form of jewels sewn into his belt and into the seams of his garments, hence he was abundantly able to pay his way, and to expend something in charity; and between his and Amzi's generosity the family of Nathan lacked nothing.

Yusuf obtained possession of parts of the Scriptures, written on parchment, and spent every morning in their perusal, ever finding this period a precious feast full of comforting assurances, and hope-inspiring promises. He never forgot to pray for Amzi, to whom he often read and expounded passages of Scripture, without being able to notice any apparent effect of his teaching.

It troubled him much that Amzi lent such a willing ear to Mohammed, and to the few fanatics among the Hanifs who had now professed their belief in this self-proclaimed prophet of Allah. It seemed marvelous that a man of Amzi's wisdom and learning should be so carried away by such a flimsy doctrine as that which Mohammed now began to proclaim. Amzi appeared to have fallen under the spell which Mohammed seemed to cast over many of those with whom he came in contact; and, though he acknowledged no belief in the so-called prophet, neither did he profess disbelief in him.

Yusuf's happiest hours were those spent in the little Jewish Christian church, a poor, uncomfortable building, where an earnest handful of Jews, who were nevertheless firm believers in the divinity of Christ, met, often in secret, always in fear of the derisive Arabs, for prayer and study of the Gospel. Among these, the wife of Nathan was never absent.

Yusuf sought untiringly to solve the mystery of the gold cup. Circumstantial evidence was certainly against Nathan. Awad, a rich merchant of Mecca, had placed the cup near a window in his house, and had forgotten to remove it ere retiring for the night. A short time before dawn he had heard a noise and risen to see what it was. He had gone outside just in time to see a figure passing hurriedly across a small field near his house. Even then he had not thought of the cup. But in the morning it was missed, and tracks were followed from the window as far as the ruined house to which Nathan's family had gone in their poverty. The house was searched, and the cup was found hidden in a heap of rubbish in an unused apartment.

Nathan had just returned with little save the clothes he wore; it was well known that his wife and children had been verging on starvation, and the public, ever ready to judge, formed its own conclusion, and turned with Nemesis eye upon the poor Jew.

No clue whatever remained, except a small carnelian, which Yusuf found afterwards upon the floor, and which he took possession of at once. For hours he would wander about, hoping to find some trace of the robber, who, he firmly believed, had fancied himself followed by Awad, and had hurriedly secreted the cup, trusting to return for it later, and to make his escape in the meantime.

All this, however, did not help poor Nathan, who, chained and fettered, languished in a close, poorly-ventilated cell, with little hope of deliverance. Yusuf knew the rancor of the Meccans against the Jews, and somewhat feared the result, yet he did not give up hope.

"We are praying for him," Nathan's wife would say. "Nathan and Yusuf are praying too, and we know that whatever happens must be best, since God has willed it so for us."

Little Manasseh chafed more than anyone at the long suspense. One day he said:

"Mother, my name means blackness, sorrow, or something like that, does it not? Why did you call me Manasseh? Was it to be an omen of my life?"

"Forbid that it should!" the mother exclaimed, passing her hand lovingly through his waving hair. "It must have been because of your curls, black as a raven's wing. Sorrow will not be always. Joy may come soon; but if not, 'at eventide it shall be light.'"

"Does that mean in heaven?" he asked.

"He has prepared for us a mansion in the heavens, an house not made with hands. 'There shall be no night there,' and 'sorrow and sighing shall flee away,'" said the mother with a far-away look in her eyes.

"But it seems so long to wait, mother," said the boy impatiently.

"Yet heaven is not far away, Manasseh," she returned, quickly. "Heaven is wherever God is. And have we not him with us always? 'In all thy ways acknowledge him, and he shall direct thy paths.' Never forget that, Manasseh."

"Well, I wish we were a little happier now," he would say; and then, to divert the boy's attention from his present troubles, his mother would tell him about her happy home in Palestine, where she and her little sister, Lois, had watched their sheep on the green hillsides, and woven chains of flowers to put about the neck of their pet lamb; of how they grew up, and Lois married the Bedouin Musa, and had gone far away.

Thus far, Yusuf knew nothing of this connection of Nathan's family with his Bedouin friends. It was yet to prove another link in the chain which was binding him so closely to this godly family. His many occupations, and the feeling which impelled him at every spare moment to seek for some clue which would lead to Nathan's liberation, left him little time for conversation with them for the present, except to see that their wants were supplied.

Then, too, he was troubled about Amzi, and somewhat anxious about the result of Mohammed's proclamations, which were now beginning to be noised abroad. From holding meetings in caves and private houses, the "prophet" had begun to preach on the streets, and from the top of the little eminence Safa, near the foot of Abu Kubays.

Many of the people of Mecca held him up to ridicule, and treated his declarations with derisive contempt. Among his strongest opponents were his own kindred, the Koreish, of the line of Haschem and of the rival line of Abd Schems. The head of the latter tribe, Abu Sofian, Mohammed's uncle, was especially bitter. He was a formidable foe, as he lived in the highlands, his castles being built on precipitous rocks, and manned by a set of wild and savage Arabs.

Yet Mohammed went on, neither daunted by fear nor discouraged by sarcasm. The number of his followers steadily increased; his first converts, Ali, his cousin, and Zeid, his faithful servant, being quickly joined by many others.

Mohammed now boldly proclaimed the message delivered to him in the cave of Hira the Koran. He declared that the law of Moses had given way to the Gospel, and that the Gospel was now to give way to the Koran; that the Savior was a great prophet, but was not divine; and that he, Mohammed, was to be the last and greatest of all the prophets.

Such assertions were usually received with shouts of derision; and yet, when Mohammed eloquently upheld fairness and sincerity in all public and private dealings, and urged the giving of alms, and the living of a pure and humble life, there were those who, like Amzi, felt that there was something worthy of admiration in the new prophet's religion; and his very firmness and sincerity, even when spat upon, and covered with mud thrown upon him as he prayed in the Caaba, won for him friends.

The opposition of his uncles, Abu Lahab and Abu Sofian, was, however, carried on with the greatest rancor; and at last a decree was issued by Abu Sofian forbidding the tribe of the Koreish from having any intercourse whatever with Mohammed. This decree was written on parchment, and hung up in the Caaba, and Mohammed was ultimately forced to flee from the city. He and his disciples went for refuge to the ravine of Abu Taleb, at some distance from Mecca. Here they would have suffered great want, had it not been for the kindness of Amzi, who managed to send them food in secret.

But the prophet's zeal never flagged. When the Ramadhan again came round, and it was safe to venture from his temporary retreat, he came boldly into the city, preached again from the hill Safa, and proclaimed his new revelations, praying for the people, and ending every prayer with the declaration now universal throughout the Moslem world,--

"God! There is no God but he, the ever-living! He sleepeth not, neither doth he slumber! To him belong the heavens and the earth, and all that they contain. Who shall intercede with him unless by his permission? His sway extendeth over the heavens and the earth, and to sustain them both is no burthen to him. He is the High, the Mighty!"

The sublimity of this eulogy of the Most High may be readily traced to the psalms, particularly to that grandest of all songs, the one hundred and fourth psalm, which has been said to be remarkable in that it embraces the whole cosmos. And, in fact, the whole trend of the Koran may be traced to a study of the Bible, particularly to the New Testament, with occasional digressions into the Mishnu, and the Talmud of the Hebrews.

"Feed the hungry! Visit the sick! Bow not to idols! Pray constantly, and direct thy prayers immediately to the Deity!" These were the constant exhortations of the prophet during these first days of his ministry--exhortations which demand the admiration of all who consider the grossness and idolatry of the age in which he lived. Had he never gone further, succeeding ages might have been tempted to pardon his hallucinations. At the time, doctrines which savored of so much magnanimity, and which were immeasurably in advance of the mockery of religion that had so long held sway among the majority of the Arabs, at once commended themselves to many. The effect of the new teaching was enhanced by the burning enthusiasm and powerful oratory of Mohammed, who was not ignorant of the effect of eloquent delivery and glowing language on a people ever passionate and keenly susceptible to the influence of a strong and vivid presentation.

Ridicule and persecution ceased for a time, and at last, when the decree was removed, Mohammed and his followers returned in triumph to Mecca.

Once again he was obliged to fly for his life. Accompanied by Zeid, he went to Tayf, and there spent a month in its perfumed vales, wandering by cooling streams, meditating beneath the waving fronds of the palm-trees, or resting in cool gardens, lulled by the rustling leaves of the nebeck (the lotus-tree), and inhaling the fresh perfume of peach and apple blooms.

But the inhabitants of Tayf grew hostile, and the prophet again set out on foot for Mecca. He sat down to rest in an orchard. There he dreamed that a host of genii waited before him, begging him to teach them El Islam.

In the night[8] he arose and proceeded, with renewed courage, on his journey. On the way he fell in with some pilgrims from Yathrib, or Medina, and to them he unfolded his revelations. They listened spell-bound as he preached from Al Akaba, and besought him that he would come or would send disciples with them to their northern town. Accordingly, Mohammed chose several converts to accompany them upon this first mission, and a time was set for their going.

On the evening preceding this appointed time, Yusuf sat in a hanging balcony of Amzi's house. The pink flush of the setting sun was over the sky; the murmur of the city arose with a subdued hum--"the city's stilly sound"; a parchment containing a part of the Scriptures was on the priest's knee, but he stopped reading and gave himself up to meditation, wondering deeply at the strange course that events were taking, and surmising vaguely the probable result of the revolution that seemed impending.

His thoughts turned to Amzi, who, as yet, closed his ears to the Gospel tidings which were proving such a comfort and joy to the priest.

A step sounded behind him. It was Amzi himself, attired in traveling garb, and with his camel-stick already in his hand.

"What now, friend Yusuf? Dreaming still?" he said. "Will you not say farewell to your friend?"

"What! Are you going on a journey? Pray, where goes Amzi on such short notice?"

"Ah," smiled Amzi, "I almost fear to tell my Persian proselyte, lest the vials of his wrath be poured on my defenceless and submissive head. To make a long story short, I go with the disciples of Mohammed to Medina."

"As Mohammed's disciple? Amzi, has it come to this!" exclaimed the priest.

"Chain your choler, my friend," laughed the other. "I merely go to observe the outcome of this movement in the town of the North. Besides, the heat of Mecca in this season oppresses me, and I long for the cool breezes of Medina. Yusuf, I shall have rare letters to write you, for I feel that there will be a mighty movement in favor of Mohammed there."

"You begin to believe in him, Amzi!" said Yusuf in tones of deepest concern.

"His doctrines suit me, as containing many noble precepts. His proclamations are moving the town in such a way as was never known heretofore."

"Consider the movement caused by the teaching of Christ when he was on earth!" cried Yusuf. "Dare you compare this petty tempest with that?"

"Yet Christ's very words have been here where all might read them, for long enough. Why have they not drawn the attention of, and, if divine, why have they not shown their power among, our citizens?"

"Because ye have eyes that see not, and ears that hear not!" cried the priest impetuously. "Can you not see that the doctrines of the Scriptures are just those which Mohammed proclaims? He seizes upon them, he gives them as his own, because he knows they are good, yet he commits the sacrilege of posing as a divine agent! Good cannot come out of this except in so far as a few precepts of the Gospel, all plagiarized as they are, exert their influence upon the lives of people."

Amzi looked inconvincible. "I grant the excellence of Gospel teaching," he said, "but your conception of God's love I cannot seem to feel, often as you have explained it to me. Mohammed's revelations appear plausible. Yet, look not so doleful, brother. Amzi has not become a Mohammedan. He is still ready to believe as soon as he can see."

"Yes, yes; like Thomas, you must see and feel ere you will believe. God grant that the seeing and feeling may not come too late!"

Amzi smiled, and passed his arm affectionately about the priest's shoulder. "What a thorn in the flesh to you is Amzi the benevolent," he said, kindly. "Notwithstanding, give me your blessing, priest. Give me credit for being, at least, honest, and bid me good speed before I go."

"Heaven forbid that aught but blessing from Yusuf should ever follow Amzi!" returned the other, warmly. "May heaven keep and direct you, my friend, my brother!"

The friends embraced, according to the custom of the land, and separated; Amzi to join the half-naked pilgrims, who had not yet donned their traveling-robes, Yusuf to lift his heart to Heaven, as he now did in every circumstance. In this silent talk to God he received comfort, and his heart was filled with hope for Amzi.

Even this journey, which seemed so inauspicious, might, he thought, be but the beginning of a happy end. He had learned that there are no trifles in life; that no event is so insignificant that God may not make use of it. He felt that Amzi was not utterly indifferent to the influence of divine power, so he waited in patience.