[May 8, 1840.]
From the first rude times of Paganism among the Scandinavians in the North, we advance to a very different epoch1 of religion, among a very different people: Mahometanism among the Arabs. A great change; what a change and progress is indicated here, in the universal condition and thoughts of men!
The Hero is not now regarded as a God among his fellowmen; but as one God-inspired, as a Prophet. It is the second phasis of Hero-worship: the first or oldest, we may say, has passed away without return; in the history of the world there will not again be any man, never so great, whom his fellowmen will take for a god. Nay3 we might rationally ask, Did any set of human beings ever really think the man they saw there standing4 beside them a god, the maker5 of this world? Perhaps not: it was usually some man they remembered, or had seen. But neither can this any more be. The Great Man is not recognized henceforth as a god any more.
It was a rude gross error, that of counting the Great Man a god. Yet let us say that it is at all times difficult to know what he is, or how to account of him and receive him! The most significant feature in the history of an epoch is the manner it has of welcoming a Great Man. Ever, to the true instincts of men, there is something godlike in him. Whether they shall take him to be a god, to be a prophet, or what they shall take him to be? that is ever a grand question; by their way of answering that, we shall see, as through a little window, into the very heart of these men’s spiritual condition. For at bottom the Great Man, as he comes from the hand of Nature, is ever the same kind of thing: Odin, Luther, Johnson, Burns; I hope to make it appear that these are all originally of one stuff; that only by the world’s reception of them, and the shapes they assume, are they so immeasurably diverse. The worship of Odin astonishes us, — to fall prostrate9 before the Great Man, into deliquium of love and wonder over him, and feel in their hearts that he was a denizen10 of the skies, a god! This was imperfect enough: but to welcome, for example, a Burns as we did, was that what we can call perfect? The most precious gift that Heaven can give to the Earth; a man of “genius” as we call it; the Soul of a Man actually sent down from the skies with a God’s-message to us, — this we waste away as an idle artificial firework, sent to amuse us a little, and sink it into ashes, wreck11 and ineffectuality: such reception of a Great Man I do not call very perfect either! Looking into the heart of the thing, one may perhaps call that of Burns a still uglier phenomenon, betokening12 still sadder imperfections in mankind’s ways, than the Scandinavian method itself! To fall into mere13 unreasoning deliquium of love and admiration14, was not good; but such unreasoning, nay irrational15 supercilious16 no-love at all is perhaps still worse! — It is a thing forever changing, this of Hero-worship: different in each age, difficult to do well in any age. Indeed, the heart of the whole business of the age, one may say, is to do it well.
We have chosen Mahomet not as the most eminent17 Prophet; but as the one we are freest to speak of. He is by no means the truest of Prophets; but I do esteem18 him a true one. Farther, as there is no danger of our becoming, any of us, Mahometans, I mean to say all the good of him I justly can. It is the way to get at his secret: let us try to understand what he meant with the world; what the world meant and means with him, will then be a more answerable question. Our current hypothesis about Mahomet, that he was a scheming Impostor, a Falsehood incarnate19, that his religion is a mere mass of quackery20 and fatuity21, begins really to be now untenable to any one. The lies, which well-meaning zeal22 has heaped round this man, are disgraceful to ourselves only. When Pococke inquired of Grotius, Where the proof was of that story of the pigeon, trained to pick peas from Mahomet’s ear, and pass for an angel dictating24 to him? Grotius answered that there was no proof! It is really time to dismiss all that. The word this man spoke25 has been the life-guidance now of a hundred and eighty millions of men these twelve hundred years. These hundred and eighty millions were made by God as well as we. A greater number of God’s creatures believe in Mahomet’s word at this hour, than in any other word whatever. Are we to suppose that it was a miserable26 piece of spiritual legerdemain27, this which so many creatures of the Almighty28 have lived by and died by? I, for my part, cannot form any such supposition. I will believe most things sooner than that. One would be entirely29 at a loss what to think of this world at all, if quackery so grew and were sanctioned here.
Alas30, such theories are very lamentable31. If we would attain32 to knowledge of anything in God’s true Creation, let us disbelieve them wholly! They are the product of an Age of Scepticism: they indicate the saddest spiritual paralysis33, and mere death-life of the souls of men: more godless theory, I think, was never promulgated34 in this Earth. A false man found a religion? Why, a false man cannot build a brick house! If he do not know and follow truly the properties of mortar36, burnt clay and what else be works in, it is no house that he makes, but a rubbish-heap. It will not stand for twelve centuries, to lodge37 a hundred and eighty millions; it will fall straightway. A man must conform himself to Nature’s laws, be verily in communion with Nature and the truth of things, or Nature will answer him, No, not at all! Speciosities are specious38 — ah me! — a Cagliostro, many Cagliostros, prominent world-leaders, do prosper39 by their quackery, for a day. It is like a forged bank-note; they get it passed out of their worthless hands: others, not they, have to smart for it. Nature bursts up in fire-flames, French Revolutions and such like, proclaiming with terrible veracity40 that forged notes are forged.
But of a Great Man especially, of him I will venture to assert that it is incredible he should have been other than true. It seems to me the primary foundation of him, and of all that can lie in him, this. No Mirabeau, Napoleon, Burns, Cromwell, no man adequate to do anything, but is first of all in right earnest about it; what I call a sincere man. I should say sincerity42, a deep, great, genuine sincerity, is the first characteristic of all men in any way heroic. Not the sincerity that calls itself sincere; ah no, that is a very poor matter indeed; — a shallow braggart43 conscious sincerity; oftenest self-conceit mainly. The Great Man’s sincerity is of the kind he cannot speak of, is not conscious of: nay, I suppose, he is conscious rather of insincerity; for what man can walk accurately44 by the law of truth for one day? No, the Great Man does not boast himself sincere, far from that; perhaps does not ask himself if he is so: I would say rather, his sincerity does not depend on himself; he cannot help being sincere! The great Fact of Existence is great to him. Fly as he will, he cannot get out of the awful presence of this Reality. His mind is so made; he is great by that, first of all. Fearful and wonderful, real as Life, real as Death, is this Universe to him. Though all men should forget its truth, and walk in a vain show, he cannot. At all moments the Flame-image glares in upon him; undeniable, there, there! — I wish you to take this as my primary definition of a Great Man. A little man may have this, it is competent to all men that God has made: but a Great Man cannot be without it.
Such a man is what we call an original man; he comes to us at first-hand. A messenger he, sent from the Infinite Unknown with tidings to us. We may call him Poet, Prophet, God; — in one way or other, we all feel that the words he utters are as no other man’s words. Direct from the Inner Fact of things; — he lives, and has to live, in daily communion with that. Hearsays cannot hide it from him; he is blind, homeless, miserable, following hearsays; it glares in upon him. Really his utterances46, are they not a kind of “revelation;" — what we must call such for want of some other name? It is from the heart of the world that he comes; he is portion of the primal47 reality of things. God has made many revelations: but this man too, has not God made him, the latest and newest of all? The “inspiration of the Almighty giveth him understanding:” we must listen before all to him.
This Mahomet, then, we will in no wise consider as an Inanity48 and Theatricality49, a poor conscious ambitious schemer; we cannot conceive him so. The rude message he delivered was a real one withal; an earnest confused voice from the unknown Deep. The man’s words were not false, nor his workings here below; no Inanity and Simulacrum; a fiery50 mass of Life cast up from the great bosom51 of Nature herself. To kindle52 the world; the world’s Maker had ordered it so. Neither can the faults, imperfections, insincerities even, of Mahomet, if such were never so well proved against him, shake this primary fact about him.
On the whole, we make too much of faults; the details of the business hide the real centre of it. Faults? The greatest of faults, I should say, is to be conscious of none. Readers of the Bible above all, one would think, might know better. Who is called there “the man according to God’s own heart”? David, the Hebrew King, had fallen into sins enough; blackest crimes; there was no want of sins. And thereupon the unbelievers sneer53 and ask, Is this your man according to God’s heart? The sneer, I must say, seems to me but a shallow one. What are faults, what are the outward details of a life; if the inner secret of it, the remorse54, temptations, true, often-baffled, never-ended struggle of it, be forgotten? “It is not in man that walketh to direct his steps.” Of all acts, is not, for a man, repentance55 the most divine? The deadliest sin, I say, were that same supercilious consciousness of no sin; — that is death; the heart so conscious is divorced from sincerity, humility56 and fact; is dead: it is “pure” as dead dry sand is pure. David’s life and history, as written for us in those Psalms57 of his, I consider to be the truest emblem58 ever given of a man’s moral progress and warfare59 here below. All earnest souls will ever discern in it the faithful struggle of an earnest human soul towards what is good and best. Struggle often baffled, sore baffled, down as into entire wreck; yet a struggle never ended; ever, with tears, repentance, true unconquerable purpose, begun anew. Poor human nature! Is not a man’s walking, in truth, always that: “a succession of falls”? Man can do no other. In this wild element of a Life, he has to struggle onwards; now fallen, deep-abased; and ever, with tears, repentance, with bleeding heart, he has to rise again, struggle again still onwards. That his struggle be a faithful unconquerable one: that is the question of questions. We will put up with many sad details, if the soul of it were true. Details by themselves will never teach us what it is. I believe we misestimate Mahomet’s faults even as faults: but the secret of him will never be got by dwelling60 there. We will leave all this behind us; and assuring ourselves that he did mean some true thing, ask candidly61 what it was or might be.
These Arabs Mahomet was born among are certainly a notable people. Their country itself is notable; the fit habitation for such a race. Savage63 inaccessible64 rock-mountains, great grim deserts, alternating with beautiful strips of verdure: wherever water is, there is greenness, beauty; odoriferous balm-shrubs, date-trees, frankincense-trees. Consider that wide waste horizon of sand, empty, silent, like a sand-sea, dividing habitable place from habitable. You are all alone there, left alone with the Universe; by day a fierce sun blazing down on it with intolerable radiance; by night the great deep Heaven with its stars. Such a country is fit for a swift-handed, deep-hearted race of men. There is something most agile65, active, and yet most meditative66, enthusiastic in the Arab character. The Persians are called the French of the East; we will call the Arabs Oriental Italians. A gifted noble people; a people of wild strong feelings, and of iron restraint over these: the characteristic of noble-mindedness, of genius. The wild Bedouin welcomes the stranger to his tent, as one having right to all that is there; were it his worst enemy, he will slay67 his foal to treat him, will serve him with sacred hospitality for three days, will set him fairly on his way; — and then, by another law as sacred, kill him if he can. In words too as in action. They are not a loquacious68 people, taciturn rather; but eloquent69, gifted when they do speak. An earnest, truthful70 kind of men. They are, as we know, of Jewish kindred: but with that deadly terrible earnestness of the Jews they seem to combine something graceful23, brilliant, which is not Jewish. They had “Poetic71 contests” among them before the time of Mahomet. Sale says, at Ocadh, in the South of Arabia, there were yearly fairs, and there, when the merchandising was done, Poets sang for prizes:— the wild people gathered to hear that.
One Jewish quality these Arabs manifest; the outcome of many or of all high qualities: what we may call religiosity. From of old they had been zealous72 worshippers, according to their light. They worshipped the stars, as Sabeans; worshipped many natural objects, — recognized them as symbols, immediate73 manifestations75, of the Maker of Nature. It was wrong; and yet not wholly wrong. All God’s works are still in a sense symbols of God. Do we not, as I urged, still account it a merit to recognize a certain inexhaustible significance, “poetic beauty” as we name it, in all natural objects whatsoever76? A man is a poet, and honored, for doing that, and speaking or singing it, — a kind of diluted77 worship. They had many Prophets, these Arabs; Teachers each to his tribe, each according to the light he had. But indeed, have we not from of old the noblest of proofs, still palpable to every one of us, of what devoutness78 and noble-mindedness had dwelt in these rustic80 thoughtful peoples? Biblical critics seem agreed that our own Book of Job was written in that region of the world. I call that, apart from all theories about it, one of the grandest things ever written with pen. One feels, indeed, as if it were not Hebrew; such a noble universality, different from noble patriotism81 or sectarianism, reigns82 in it. A noble Book; all men’s Book! It is our first, oldest statement of the never-ending Problem, — man’s destiny, and God’s ways with him here in this earth. And all in such free flowing outlines; grand in its sincerity, in its simplicity83; in its epic84 melody, and repose85 of reconcilement. There is the seeing eye, the mildly understanding heart. So true every way; true eyesight and vision for all things; material things no less than spiritual: the Horse, — “hast thou clothed his neck with thunder?” — he “laughs at the shaking of the spear!” Such living likenesses were never since drawn86. Sublime87 sorrow, sublime reconciliation88; oldest choral melody as of the heart of mankind; — so soft, and great; as the summer midnight, as the world with its seas and stars! There is nothing written, I think, in the Bible or out of it, of equal literary merit. —
To the idolatrous Arabs one of the most ancient universal objects of worship was that Black Stone, still kept in the building called Caabah, at Mecca. Diodorus Siculus mentions this Caabah in a way not to be mistaken, as the oldest, most honored temple in his time; that is, some half-century before our Era. Silvestre de Sacy says there is some likelihood that the Black Stone is an aerolite. In that case, some man might see it fall out of Heaven! It stands now beside the Well Zemzem; the Caabah is built over both. A Well is in all places a beautiful affecting object, gushing89 out like life from the hard earth; — still more so in those hot dry countries, where it is the first condition of being. The Well Zemzem has its name from the bubbling sound of the waters, zem-zem; they think it is the Well which Hagar found with her little Ishmael in the wilderness90: the aerolite and it have been sacred now, and had a Caabah over them, for thousands of years. A curious object, that Caabah! There it stands at this hour, in the black cloth-covering the Sultan sends it yearly; “twenty-seven cubits high;” with circuit, with double circuit of pillars, with festoon-rows of lamps and quaint91 ornaments92: the lamps will be lighted again this night, — to glitter again under the stars. An authentic93 fragment of the oldest Past. It is the Keblah of all Moslem94: from Delhi all onwards to Morocco, the eyes of innumerable praying men are turned towards it, five times, this day and all days: one of the notablest centres in the Habitation of Men.
It had been from the sacredness attached to this Caabah Stone and Hagar’s Well, from the pilgrimings of all tribes of Arabs thither95, that Mecca took its rise as a Town. A great town once, though much decayed now. It has no natural advantage for a town; stands in a sandy hollow amid bare barren hills, at a distance from the sea; its provisions, its very bread, have to be imported. But so many pilgrims needed lodgings96: and then all places of pilgrimage do, from the first, become places of trade. The first day pilgrims meet, merchants have also met: where men see themselves assembled for one object, they find that they can accomplish other objects which depend on meeting together. Mecca became the Fair of all Arabia. And thereby97 indeed the chief staple98 and warehouse99 of whatever Commerce there was between the Indian and the Western countries, Syria, Egypt, even Italy. It had at one time a population of 100,000; buyers, forwarders of those Eastern and Western products; importers for their own behoof of provisions and corn. The government was a kind of irregular aristocratic republic, not without a touch of theocracy100. Ten Men of a chief tribe, chosen in some rough way, were Governors of Mecca, and Keepers of the Caabah. The Koreish were the chief tribe in Mahomet’s time; his own family was of that tribe. The rest of the Nation, fractioned and cut asunder101 by deserts, lived under similar rude patriarchal governments by one or several: herdsmen, carriers, traders, generally robbers too; being oftenest at war one with another, or with all: held together by no open bond, if it were not this meeting at the Caabah, where all forms of Arab Idolatry assembled in common adoration102; — held mainly by the inward indissoluble bond of a common blood and language. In this way had the Arabs lived for long ages, unnoticed by the world; a people of great qualities, unconsciously waiting for the day when they should become notable to all the world. Their Idolatries appear to have been in a tottering103 state; much was getting into confusion and fermentation among them. Obscure tidings of the most important Event ever transacted105 in this world, the Life and Death of the Divine Man in Judea, at once the symptom and cause of immeasurable change to all people in the world, had in the course of centuries reached into Arabia too; and could not but, of itself, have produced fermentation there.
It was among this Arab people, so circumstanced, in the year 570 of our Era, that the man Mahomet was born. He was of the family of Hashem, of the Koreish tribe as we said; though poor, connected with the chief persons of his country. Almost at his birth he lost his Father; at the age of six years his Mother too, a woman noted106 for her beauty, her worth and sense: he fell to the charge of his Grandfather, an old man, a hundred years old. A good old man: Mahomet’s Father, Abdallah, had been his youngest favorite son. He saw in Mahomet, with his old life-worn eyes, a century old, the lost Abdallah come back again, all that was left of Abdallah. He loved the little orphan107 Boy greatly; used to say, They must take care of that beautiful little Boy, nothing in their kindred was more precious than he. At his death, while the boy was still but two years old, he left him in charge to Abu Thaleb the eldest108 of the Uncles, as to him that now was head of the house. By this Uncle, a just and rational man as everything betokens109, Mahomet was brought up in the best Arab way.
Mahomet, as he grew up, accompanied his Uncle on trading journeys and such like; in his eighteenth year one finds him a fighter following his Uncle in war. But perhaps the most significant of all his journeys is one we find noted as of some years’ earlier date: a journey to the Fairs of Syria. The young man here first came in contact with a quite foreign world, — with one foreign element of endless moment to him: the Christian110 Religion. I know not what to make of that “Sergius, the Nestorian Monk111,” whom Abu Thaleb and he are said to have lodged112 with; or how much any monk could have taught one still so young. Probably enough it is greatly exaggerated, this of the Nestorian Monk. Mahomet was only fourteen; had no language but his own: much in Syria must have been a strange unintelligible113 whirlpool to him. But the eyes of the lad were open; glimpses of many things would doubtless be taken in, and lie very enigmatic as yet, which were to ripen115 in a strange way into views, into beliefs and insights one day. These journeys to Syria were probably the beginning of much to Mahomet.
One other circumstance we must not forget: that he had no school-learning; of the thing we call school-learning none at all. The art of writing was but just introduced into Arabia; it seems to be the true opinion that Mahomet never could write! Life in the Desert, with its experiences, was all his education. What of this infinite Universe he, from his dim place, with his own eyes and thoughts, could take in, so much and no more of it was he to know. Curious, if we will reflect on it, this of having no books. Except by what he could see for himself, or hear of by uncertain rumor116 of speech in the obscure Arabian Desert, he could know nothing. The wisdom that had been before him or at a distance from him in the world, was in a manner as good as not there for him. Of the great brother souls, flame-beacons through so many lands and times, no one directly communicates with this great soul. He is alone there, deep down in the bosom of the Wilderness; has to grow up so, — alone with Nature and his own Thoughts.
But, from an early age, he had been remarked as a thoughtful man. His companions named him “Al Amin, The Faithful.” A man of truth and fidelity117; true in what he did, in what he spake and thought. They noted that he always meant something. A man rather taciturn in speech; silent when there was nothing to be said; but pertinent118, wise, sincere, when he did speak; always throwing light on the matter. This is the only sort of speech worth speaking! Through life we find him to have been regarded as an altogether solid, brotherly, genuine man. A serious, sincere character; yet amiable119, cordial, companionable, jocose120 even; — a good laugh in him withal: there are men whose laugh is as untrue as anything about them; who cannot laugh. One hears of Mahomet’s beauty: his fine sagacious honest face, brown florid complexion121, beaming black eyes; — I somehow like too that vein122 on the brow, which swelled123 up black when he was in anger: like the “horseshoe vein” in Scott’s Redgauntlet. It was a kind of feature in the Hashem family, this black swelling124 vein in the brow; Mahomet had it prominent, as would appear. A spontaneous, passionate125, yet just, true-meaning man! Full of wild faculty126, fire and light; of wild worth, all uncultured; working out his life-task in the depths of the Desert there.
How he was placed with Kadijah, a rich Widow, as her Steward127, and travelled in her business, again to the Fairs of Syria; how he managed all, as one can well understand, with fidelity, adroitness128; how her gratitude129, her regard for him grew: the story of their marriage is altogether a graceful intelligible114 one, as told us by the Arab authors. He was twenty-five; she forty, though still beautiful. He seems to have lived in a most affectionate, peaceable, wholesome130 way with this wedded131 benefactress; loving her truly, and her alone. It goes greatly against the impostor theory, the fact that he lived in this entirely unexceptionable, entirely quiet and commonplace way, till the heat of his years was done. He was forty before he talked of any mission from Heaven. All his irregularities, real and supposed, date from after his fiftieth year, when the good Kadijah died. All his “ambition,” seemingly, had been, hitherto, to live an honest life; his “fame,” the mere good opinion of neighbors that knew him, had been sufficient hitherto. Not till he was already getting old, the prurient132 heat of his life all burnt out, and peace growing to be the chief thing this world could give him, did he start on the “career of ambition;” and, belying133 all his past character and existence, set up as a wretched empty charlatan134 to acquire what he could now no longer enjoy! For my share, I have no faith whatever in that.
Ah no: this deep-hearted Son of the Wilderness, with his beaming black eyes and open social deep soul, had other thoughts in him than ambition. A silent great soul; he was one of those who cannot but be in earnest; whom Nature herself has appointed to be sincere. While others walk in formulas and hearsays, contented135 enough to dwell there, this man could not screen himself in formulas; he was alone with his own soul and the reality of things. The great Mystery of Existence, as I said, glared in upon him, with its terrors, with its splendors137; no hearsays could hide that unspeakable fact, “Here am I!” Such sincerity, as we named it, has in very truth something of divine. The word of such a man is a Voice direct from Nature’s own Heart. Men do and must listen to that as to nothing else; — all else is wind in comparison. From of old, a thousand thoughts, in his pilgrimings and wanderings, had been in this man: What am I? What is this unfathomable Thing I live in, which men name Universe? What is Life; what is Death? What am I to believe? What am I to do? The grim rocks of Mount Hara, of Mount Sinai, the stern sandy solitudes139 answered not. The great Heaven rolling silent overhead, with its blue-glancing stars, answered not. There was no answer. The man’s own soul, and what of God’s inspiration dwelt there, had to answer!
It is the thing which all men have to ask themselves; which we too have to ask, and answer. This wild man felt it to be of infinite moment; all other things of no moment whatever in comparison. The jargon140 of argumentative Greek Sects141, vague traditions of Jews, the stupid routine of Arab Idolatry: there was no answer in these. A Hero, as I repeat, has this first distinction, which indeed we may call first and last, the Alpha and Omega of his whole Heroism142, That he looks through the shows of things into things. Use and wont143, respectable hearsay45, respectable formula: all these are good, or are not good. There is something behind and beyond all these, which all these must correspond with, be the image of, or they are — Idolatries; “bits of black wood pretending to be God;” to the earnest soul a mockery and abomination. Idolatries never so gilded144, waited on by heads of the Koreish, will do nothing for this man. Though all men walk by them, what good is it? The great Reality stands glaring there upon him. He there has to answer it, or perish miserably145. Now, even now, or else through all Eternity146 never! Answer it; thou must find an answer. — Ambition? What could all Arabia do for this man; with the crown of Greek Heraclius, of Persian Chosroes, and all crowns in the Earth; — what could they all do for him? It was not of the Earth he wanted to hear tell; it was of the Heaven above and of the Hell beneath. All crowns and sovereignties whatsoever, where would they in a few brief years be? To be Sheik of Mecca or Arabia, and have a bit of gilt147 wood put into your hand, — will that be one’s salvation148? I decidedly think, not. We will leave it altogether, this impostor hypothesis, as not credible41; not very tolerable even, worthy149 chiefly of dismissal by us.
Mahomet had been wont to retire yearly, during the month Ramadhan, into solitude138 and silence; as indeed was the Arab custom; a praiseworthy custom, which such a man, above all, would find natural and useful. Communing with his own heart, in the silence of the mountains; himself silent; open to the “small still voices:” it was a right natural custom! Mahomet was in his fortieth year, when having withdrawn150 to a cavern151 in Mount Hara, near Mecca, during this Ramadhan, to pass the month in prayer, and meditation152 on those great questions, he one day told his wife Kadijah, who with his household was with him or near him this year, That by the unspeakable special favor of Heaven he had now found it all out; was in doubt and darkness no longer, but saw it all. That all these Idols153 and Formulas were nothing, miserable bits of wood; that there was One God in and over all; and we must leave all Idols, and look to Him. That God is great; and that there is nothing else great! He is the Reality. Wooden Idols are not real; He is real. He made us at first, sustains us yet; we and all things are but the shadow of Him; a transitory garment veiling the Eternal Splendor136. “Allah akbar, God is great;" — and then also “Islam,” That we must submit to God. That our whole strength lies in resigned submission154 to Him, whatsoever He do to us. For this world, and for the other! The thing He sends to us, were it death and worse than death, shall be good, shall be best; we resign ourselves to God. — “If this be Islam,” says Goethe, “do we not all live in Islam?” Yes, all of us that have any moral life; we all live so. It has ever been held the highest wisdom for a man not merely to submit to Necessity, — Necessity will make him submit, — but to know and believe well that the stern thing which Necessity had ordered was the wisest, the best, the thing wanted there. To cease his frantic155 pretension156 of scanning this great God’s-World in his small fraction of a brain; to know that it had verily, though deep beyond his soundings, a Just Law, that the soul of it was Good; — that his part in it was to conform to the Law of the Whole, and in devout79 silence follow that; not questioning it, obeying it as unquestionable.
I say, this is yet the only true morality known. A man is right and invincible157, virtuous158 and on the road towards sure conquest, precisely159 while he joins himself to the great deep Law of the World, in spite of all superficial laws, temporary appearances, profit-and-loss calculations; he is victorious160 while he co-operates with that great central Law, not victorious otherwise:— and surely his first chance of co-operating with it, or getting into the course of it, is to know with his whole soul that it is; that it is good, and alone good! This is the soul of Islam; it is properly the soul of Christianity; — for Islam is definable as a confused form of Christianity; had Christianity not been, neither had it been. Christianity also commands us, before all, to be resigned to God. We are to take no counsel with flesh and blood; give ear to no vain cavils161, vain sorrows and wishes: to know that we know nothing; that the worst and cruelest to our eyes is not what it seems; that we have to receive whatsoever befalls us as sent from God above, and say, It is good and wise, God is great! “Though He slay me, yet will I trust in Him.” Islam means in its way Denial of Self, Annihilation of Self. This is yet the highest Wisdom that Heaven has revealed to our Earth.
Such light had come, as it could, to illuminate162 the darkness of this wild Arab soul. A confused dazzling splendor as of life and Heaven, in the great darkness which threatened to be death: he called it revelation and the angel Gabriel; — who of us yet can know what to call it? It is the “inspiration of the Almighty” that giveth us understanding. To know; to get into the truth of anything, is ever a mystic act, — of which the best Logics163 can but babble165 on the surface. “Is not Belief the true god-announcing Miracle?” says Novalis. — That Mahomet’s whole soul, set in flame with this grand Truth vouchsafed166 him, should feel as if it were important and the only important thing, was very natural. That Providence167 had unspeakably honored him by revealing it, saving him from death and darkness; that he therefore was bound to make known the same to all creatures: this is what was meant by “Mahomet is the Prophet of God;” this too is not without its true meaning. —
The good Kadijah, we can fancy, listened to him with wonder, with doubt: at length she answered: Yes, it was true this that he said. One can fancy too the boundless168 gratitude of Mahomet; and how of all the kindnesses she had done him, this of believing the earnest struggling word he now spoke was the greatest. “It is certain,” says Novalis, “my Conviction gains infinitely169, the moment another soul will believe in it.” It is a boundless favor. — He never forgot this good Kadijah. Long afterwards, Ayesha his young favorite wife, a woman who indeed distinguished170 herself among the Moslem, by all manner of qualities, through her whole long life; this young brilliant Ayesha was, one day, questioning him: “Now am not I better than Kadijah? She was a widow; old, and had lost her looks: you love me better than you did her?” — “No, by Allah!” answered Mahomet: “No, by Allah! She believed in me when none else would believe. In the whole world I had but one friend, and she was that!” — Seid, his Slave, also believed in him; these with his young Cousin Ali, Abu Thaleb’s son, were his first converts.
He spoke of his Doctrine171 to this man and that; but the most treated it with ridicule172, with indifference173; in three years, I think, he had gained but thirteen followers174. His progress was slow enough. His encouragement to go on, was altogether the usual encouragement that such a man in such a case meets. After some three years of small success, he invited forty of his chief kindred to an entertainment; and there stood up and told them what his pretension was: that he had this thing to promulgate35 abroad to all men; that it was the highest thing, the one thing: which of them would second him in that? Amid the doubt and silence of all, young Ali, as yet a lad of sixteen, impatient of the silence, started up, and exclaimed in passionate fierce language, That he would! The assembly, among whom was Abu Thaleb, Ali’s Father, could not be unfriendly to Mahomet; yet the sight there, of one unlettered elderly man, with a lad of sixteen, deciding on such an enterprise against all mankind, appeared ridiculous to them; the assembly broke up in laughter. Nevertheless it proved not a laughable thing; it was a very serious thing! As for this young Ali, one cannot but like him. A noble-minded creature, as he shows himself, now and always afterwards; full of affection, of fiery daring. Something chivalrous175 in him; brave as a lion; yet with a grace, a truth and affection worthy of Christian knighthood. He died by assassination176 in the Mosque177 at Bagdad; a death occasioned by his own generous fairness, confidence in the fairness of others: he said, If the wound proved not unto death, they must pardon the Assassin; but if it did, then they must slay him straightway, that so they two in the same hour might appear before God, and see which side of that quarrel was the just one!
Mahomet naturally gave offence to the Koreish, Keepers of the Caabah, superintendents178 of the Idols. One or two men of influence had joined him: the thing spread slowly, but it was spreading. Naturally he gave offence to everybody: Who is this that pretends to be wiser than we all; that rebukes179 us all, as mere fools and worshippers of wood! Abu Thaleb the good Uncle spoke with him: Could he not be silent about all that; believe it all for himself, and not trouble others, anger the chief men, endanger himself and them all, talking of it? Mahomet answered: If the Sun stood on his right hand and the Moon on his left, ordering him to hold his peace, he could not obey! No: there was something in this Truth he had got which was of Nature herself; equal in rank to Sun, or Moon, or whatsoever thing Nature had made. It would speak itself there, so long as the Almighty allowed it, in spite of Sun and Moon, and all Koreish and all men and things. It must do that, and could do no other. Mahomet answered so; and, they say, “burst into tears.” Burst into tears: he felt that Abu Thaleb was good to him; that the task he had got was no soft, but a stern and great one.
He went on speaking to who would listen to him; publishing his Doctrine among the pilgrims as they came to Mecca; gaining adherents180 in this place and that. Continual contradiction, hatred181, open or secret danger attended him. His powerful relations protected Mahomet himself; but by and by, on his own advice, all his adherents had to quit Mecca, and seek refuge in Abyssinia over the sea. The Koreish grew ever angrier; laid plots, and swore oaths among them, to put Mahomet to death with their own hands. Abu Thaleb was dead, the good Kadijah was dead. Mahomet is not solicitous182 of sympathy from us; but his outlook at this time was one of the dismalest. He had to hide in caverns183, escape in disguise; fly hither and thither; homeless, in continual peril184 of his life. More than once it seemed all over with him; more than once it turned on a straw, some rider’s horse taking fright or the like, whether Mahomet and his Doctrine had not ended there, and not been heard of at all. But it was not to end so.
In the thirteenth year of his mission, finding his enemies all banded against him, forty sworn men, one out of every tribe, waiting to take his life, and no continuance possible at Mecca for him any longer, Mahomet fled to the place then called Yathreb, where he had gained some adherents; the place they now call Medina, or “Medinat al Nabi, the City of the Prophet,” from that circumstance. It lay some two hundred miles off, through rocks and deserts; not without great difficulty, in such mood as we may fancy, he escaped thither, and found welcome. The whole East dates its era from this Flight, hegira185 as they name it: the Year 1 of this Hegira is 622 of our Era, the fifty-third of Mahomet’s life. He was now becoming an old man; his friends sinking round him one by one; his path desolate186, encompassed187 with danger: unless he could find hope in his own heart, the outward face of things was but hopeless for him. It is so with all men in the like case. Hitherto Mahomet had professed188 to publish his Religion by the way of preaching and persuasion189 alone. But now, driven foully190 out of his native country, since unjust men had not only given no ear to his earnest Heaven’s-message, the deep cry of his heart, but would not even let him live if he kept speaking it, — the wild Son of the Desert resolved to defend himself, like a man and Arab. If the Koreish will have it so, they shall have it. Tidings, felt to be of infinite moment to them and all men, they would not listen to these; would trample191 them down by sheer violence, steel and murder: well, let steel try it then! Ten years more this Mahomet had; all of fighting of breathless impetuous toil192 and struggle; with what result we know.
Much has been said of Mahomet’s propagating his Religion by the sword. It is no doubt far nobler what we have to boast of the Christian Religion, that it propagated itself peaceably in the way of preaching and conviction. Yet withal, if we take this for an argument of the truth or falsehood of a religion, there is a radical193 mistake in it. The sword indeed: but where will you get your sword! Every new opinion, at its starting, is precisely in a minority of one. In one man’s head alone, there it dwells as yet. One man alone of the whole world believes it; there is one man against all men. That he take a sword, and try to propagate with that, will do little for him. You must first get your sword! On the whole, a thing will propagate itself as it can. We do not find, of the Christian Religion either, that it always disdained194 the sword, when once it had got one. Charlemagne’s conversion195 of the Saxons was not by preaching. I care little about the sword: I will allow a thing to struggle for itself in this world, with any sword or tongue or implement196 it has, or can lay hold of. We will let it preach, and pamphleteer, and fight, and to the uttermost bestir itself, and do, beak197 and claws, whatsoever is in it; very sure that it will, in the long-run, conquer nothing which does not deserve to be conquered. What is better than itself, it cannot put away, but only what is worse. In this great Duel198, Nature herself is umpire, and can do no wrong: the thing which is deepest-rooted in Nature, what we call truest, that thing and not the other will be found growing at last.
Here however, in reference to much that there is in Mahomet and his success, we are to remember what an umpire Nature is; what a greatness, composure of depth and tolerance199 there is in her. You take wheat to cast into the Earth’s bosom; your wheat may be mixed with chaff200, chopped straw, barn-sweepings, dust and all imaginable rubbish; no matter: you cast it into the kind just Earth; she grows the wheat, — the whole rubbish she silently absorbs, shrouds201 it in, says nothing of the rubbish. The yellow wheat is growing there; the good Earth is silent about all the rest, — has silently turned all the rest to some benefit too, and makes no complaint about it! So everywhere in Nature! She is true and not a lie; and yet so great, and just, and motherly in her truth. She requires of a thing only that it be genuine of heart; she will protect it if so; will not, if not so. There is a soul of truth in all the things she ever gave harbor to. Alas, is not this the history of all highest Truth that comes or ever came into the world? The body of them all is imperfection, an element of light in darkness: to us they have to come embodied202 in mere Logic164, in some merely scientific Theorem of the Universe; which cannot be complete; which cannot but be found, one day, incomplete, erroneous, and so die and disappear. The body of all Truth dies; and yet in all, I say, there is a soul which never dies; which in new and ever-nobler embodiment lives immortal203 as man himself! It is the way with Nature. The genuine essence of Truth never dies. That it be genuine, a voice from the great Deep of Nature, there is the point at Nature’s judgment204-seat. What we call pure or impure205, is not with her the final question. Not how much chaff is in you; but whether you have any wheat. Pure? I might say to many a man: Yes, you are pure; pure enough; but you are chaff, — insincere hypothesis, hearsay, formality; you never were in contact with the great heart of the Universe at all; you are properly neither pure nor impure; you are nothing, Nature has no business with you.
Mahomet’s Creed206 we called a kind of Christianity; and really, if we look at the wild rapt earnestness with which it was believed and laid to heart, I should say a better kind than that of those miserable Syrian Sects, with their vain janglings about Homoiousion and Homoousion, the head full of worthless noise, the heart empty and dead! The truth of it is embedded207 in portentous208 error and falsehood; but the truth of it makes it be believed, not the falsehood: it succeeded by its truth. A bastard209 kind of Christianity, but a living kind; with a heart-life in it; not dead, chopping barren logic merely! Out of all that rubbish of Arab idolatries, argumentative theologies, traditions, subtleties210, rumors211 and hypotheses of Greeks and Jews, with their idle wire-drawings, this wild man of the Desert, with his wild sincere heart, earnest as death and life, with his great flashing natural eyesight, had seen into the kernel212 of the matter. Idolatry is nothing: these Wooden Idols of yours, “ye rub them with oil and wax, and the flies stick on them,” — these are wood, I tell you! They can do nothing for you; they are an impotent blasphemous213 presence; a horror and abomination, if ye knew them. God alone is; God alone has power; He made us, He can kill us and keep us alive: “Allah akbar, God is great.” Understand that His will is the best for you; that howsoever sore to flesh and blood, you will find it the wisest, best: you are bound to take it so; in this world and in the next, you have no other thing that you can do!
And now if the wild idolatrous men did believe this, and with their fiery hearts lay hold of it to do it, in what form soever it came to them, I say it was well worthy of being believed. In one form or the other, I say it is still the one thing worthy of being believed by all men. Man does hereby become the high-priest of this Temple of a World. He is in harmony with the Decrees of the Author of this World; cooperating with them, not vainly withstanding them: I know, to this day, no better definition of Duty than that same. All that is right includes itself in this of co-operating with the real Tendency of the World: you succeed by this (the World’s Tendency will succeed), you are good, and in the right course there. Homoiousion, Homoousion, vain logical jangle, then or before or at any time, may jangle itself out, and go whither and how it likes: this is the thing it all struggles to mean, if it would mean anything. If it do not succeed in meaning this, it means nothing. Not that Abstractions, logical Propositions, be correctly worded or incorrectly; but that living concrete Sons of Adam do lay this to heart: that is the important point. Islam devoured214 all these vain jangling Sects; and I think had right to do so. It was a Reality, direct from the great Heart of Nature once more. Arab idolatries, Syrian formulas, whatsoever was not equally real, had to go up in flame, — mere dead fuel, in various senses, for this which was fire.
It was during these wild warfarings and strugglings, especially after the Flight to Mecca, that Mahomet dictated215 at intervals217 his Sacred Book, which they name Koran, or Reading, “Thing to be read.” This is the Work he and his disciples218 made so much of, asking all the world, Is not that a miracle? The Mahometans regard their Koran with a reverence219 which few Christians220 pay even to their Bible. It is admitted every where as the standard of all law and all practice; the thing to be gone upon in speculation221 and life; the message sent direct out of Heaven, which this Earth has to conform to, and walk by; the thing to be read. Their Judges decide by it; all Moslem are bound to study it, seek in it for the light of their life. They have mosques222 where it is all read daily; thirty relays of priests take it up in succession, get through the whole each day. There, for twelve hundred years, has the voice of this Book, at all moments, kept sounding through the ears and the hearts of so many men. We hear of Mahometan Doctors that had read it seventy thousand times!
Very curious: if one sought for “discrepancies223 of national taste,” here surely were the most eminent instance of that! We also can read the Koran; our Translation of it, by Sale, is known to be a very fair one. I must say, it is as toilsome reading as I ever undertook. A wearisome confused jumble224, crude, incondite; endless iterations, long-windedness, entanglement225; most crude, incondite; — insupportable stupidity, in short! Nothing but a sense of duty could carry any European through the Koran. We read in it, as we might in the State–Paper Office, unreadable masses of lumber226, that perhaps we may get some glimpses of a remarkable227 man. It is true we have it under disadvantages: the Arabs see more method in it than we. Mahomet’s followers found the Koran lying all in fractions, as it had been written down at first promulgation228; much of it, they say, on shoulder-blades of mutton, flung pell-mell into a chest: and they published it, without any discoverable order as to time or otherwise; — merely trying, as would seem, and this not very strictly229, to put the longest chapters first. The real beginning of it, in that way, lies almost at the end: for the earliest portions were the shortest. Read in its historical sequence it perhaps would not be so bad. Much of it, too, they say, is rhythmic230; a kind of wild chanting song, in the original. This may be a great point; much perhaps has been lost in the Translation here. Yet with every allowance, one feels it difficult to see how any mortal ever could consider this Koran as a Book written in Heaven, too good for the Earth; as a well-written book, or indeed as a book at all; and not a bewildered rhapsody; written, so far as writing goes, as badly as almost any book ever was! So much for national discrepancies, and the standard of taste.
Yet I should say, it was not unintelligible how the Arabs might so love it. When once you get this confused coil of a Koran fairly off your hands, and have it behind you at a distance, the essential type of it begins to disclose itself; and in this there is a merit quite other than the literary one. If a book come from the heart, it will contrive231 to reach other hearts; all art and author-craft are of small amount to that. One would say the primary character of the Koran is this of its genuineness, of its being a bona-fide book. Prideaux, I know, and others have represented it as a mere bundle of juggleries; chapter after chapter got up to excuse and varnish233 the author’s successive sins, forward his ambitions and quackeries: but really it is time to dismiss all that. I do not assert Mahomet’s continual sincerity: who is continually sincere? But I confess I can make nothing of the critic, in these times, who would accuse him of deceit prepense; of conscious deceit generally, or perhaps at all; — still more, of living in a mere element of conscious deceit, and writing this Koran as a forger234 and juggler232 would have done! Every candid62 eye, I think, will read the Koran far otherwise than so. It is the confused ferment104 of a great rude human soul; rude, untutored, that cannot even read; but fervent235, earnest, struggling vehemently237 to utter itself in words. With a kind of breathless intensity238 he strives to utter himself; the thoughts crowd on him pell-mell: for very multitude of things to say, he can get nothing said. The meaning that is in him shapes itself into no form of composition, is stated in no sequence, method, or coherence239; — they are not shaped at all, these thoughts of his; flung out unshaped, as they struggle and tumble there, in their chaotic240 inarticulate state. We said “stupid:” yet natural stupidity is by no means the character of Mahomet’s Book; it is natural uncultivation rather. The man has not studied speaking; in the haste and pressure of continual fighting, has not time to mature himself into fit speech. The panting breathless haste and vehemence241 of a man struggling in the thick of battle for life and salvation; this is the mood he is in! A headlong haste; for very magnitude of meaning, he cannot get himself articulated into words. The successive utterances of a soul in that mood, colored by the various vicissitudes242 of three-and-twenty years; now well uttered, now worse: this is the Koran.
For we are to consider Mahomet, through these three-and-twenty years, as the centre of a world wholly in conflict. Battles with the Koreish and Heathen, quarrels among his own people, backslidings of his own wild heart; all this kept him in a perpetual whirl, his soul knowing rest no more. In wakeful nights, as one may fancy, the wild soul of the man, tossing amid these vortices, would hail any light of a decision for them as a veritable light from Heaven; any making-up of his mind, so blessed, indispensable for him there, would seem the inspiration of a Gabriel. Forger and juggler? No, no! This great fiery heart, seething243, simmering like a great furnace of thoughts, was not a juggler’s. His Life was a Fact to him; this God’s Universe an awful Fact and Reality. He has faults enough. The man was an uncultured semi-barbarous Son of Nature, much of the Bedouin still clinging to him: we must take him for that. But for a wretched Simulacrum, a hungry Impostor without eyes or heart, practicing for a mess of pottage such blasphemous swindlery, forgery244 of celestial245 documents, continual high-treason against his Maker and Self, we will not and cannot take him.
Sincerity, in all senses, seems to me the merit of the Koran; what had rendered it precious to the wild Arab men. It is, after all, the first and last merit in a book; gives rise to merits of all kinds, — nay, at bottom, it alone can give rise to merit of any kind. Curiously246, through these incondite masses of tradition, vituperation, complaint, ejaculation in the Koran, a vein of true direct insight, of what we might almost call poetry, is found straggling. The body of the Book is made up of mere tradition, and as it were vehement236 enthusiastic extempore preaching. He returns forever to the old stories of the Prophets as they went current in the Arab memory: how Prophet after Prophet, the Prophet Abraham, the Prophet Hud, the Prophet Moses, Christian and other real and fabulous247 Prophets, had come to this Tribe and to that, warning men of their sin; and been received by them even as he Mahomet was, — which is a great solace248 to him. These things he repeats ten, perhaps twenty times; again and ever again, with wearisome iteration; has never done repeating them. A brave Samuel Johnson, in his forlorn garret, might con2 over the Biographies of Authors in that way! This is the great staple of the Koran. But curiously, through all this, comes ever and anon some glance as of the real thinker and seer. He has actually an eye for the world, this Mahomet: with a certain directness and rugged249 vigor250, he brings home still, to our heart, the thing his own heart has been opened to. I make but little of his praises of Allah, which many praise; they are borrowed I suppose mainly from the Hebrew, at least they are far surpassed there. But the eye that flashes direct into the heart of things, and sees the truth of them; this is to me a highly interesting object. Great Nature’s own gift; which she bestows251 on all; but which only one in the thousand does not cast sorrowfully away: it is what I call sincerity of vision; the test of a sincere heart.
Mahomet can work no miracles; he often answers impatiently: I can work no miracles. I? “I am a Public Preacher;” appointed to preach this doctrine to all creatures. Yet the world, as we can see, had really from of old been all one great miracle to him. Look over the world, says he; is it not wonderful, the work of Allah; wholly “a sign to you,” if your eyes were open! This Earth, God made it for you; “appointed paths in it;” you can live in it, go to and fro on it. — The clouds in the dry country of Arabia, to Mahomet they are very wonderful: Great clouds, he says, born in the deep bosom of the Upper Immensity, where do they come from! They hang there, the great black monsters; pour down their rain-deluges “to revive a dead earth,” and grass springs, and “tall leafy palm-trees with their date-clusters hanging round. Is not that a sign?” Your cattle too, — Allah made them; serviceable dumb creatures; they change the grass into milk; you have your clothing from them, very strange creatures; they come ranking home at evening-time, “and,” adds he, “and are a credit to you!” Ships also, — he talks often about ships: Huge moving mountains, they spread out their cloth wings, go bounding through the water there, Heaven’s wind driving them; anon they lie motionless, God has withdrawn the wind, they lie dead, and cannot stir! Miracles? cries he: What miracle would you have? Are not you yourselves there? God made you, “shaped you out of a little clay.” Ye were small once; a few years ago ye were not at all. Ye have beauty, strength, thoughts, “ye have compassion252 on one another.” Old age comes on you, and gray hairs; your strength fades into feebleness; ye sink down, and again are not. “Ye have compassion on one another:” this struck me much: Allah might have made you having no compassion on one another, — how had it been then! This is a great direct thought, a glance at first-hand into the very fact of things. Rude vestiges253 of poetic genius, of whatsoever is best and truest, are visible in this man. A strong untutored intellect; eyesight, heart: a strong wild man, — might have shaped himself into Poet, King, Priest, any kind of Hero.
To his eyes it is forever clear that this world wholly is miraculous254. He sees what, as we said once before, all great thinkers, the rude Scandinavians themselves, in one way or other, have contrived255 to see: That this so solid-looking material world is, at bottom, in very deed, Nothing; is a visual and factual Manifestation74 of God’s power and presence, — a shadow hung out by Him on the bosom of the void Infinite; nothing more. The mountains, he says, these great rock-mountains, they shall dissipate themselves “like clouds;” melt into the Blue as clouds do, and not be! He figures the Earth, in the Arab fashion, Sale tells us, as an immense Plain or flat Plate of ground, the mountains are set on that to steady it. At the Last Day they shall disappear “like clouds;” the whole Earth shall go spinning, whirl itself off into wreck, and as dust and vapor256 vanish in the Inane257. Allah withdraws his hand from it, and it ceases to be. The universal empire of Allah, presence everywhere of an unspeakable Power, a Splendor, and a Terror not to be named, as the true force, essence and reality, in all things whatsoever, was continually clear to this man. What a modern talks of by the name, Forces of Nature, Laws of Nature; and does not figure as a divine thing; not even as one thing at all, but as a set of things, undivine enough, — salable258, curious, good for propelling steamships259! With our Sciences and Cyclopaedias, we are apt to forget the divineness, in those laboratories of ours. We ought not to forget it! That once well forgotten, I know not what else were worth remembering. Most sciences, I think were then a very dead thing; withered260, contentious261, empty; — a thistle in late autumn. The best science, without this, is but as the dead timber; it is not the growing tree and forest, — which gives ever-new timber, among other things! Man cannot know either, unless he can worship in some way. His knowledge is a pedantry262, and dead thistle, otherwise.
Much has been said and written about the sensuality of Mahomet’s Religion; more than was just. The indulgences, criminal to us, which he permitted, were not of his appointment; he found them practiced, unquestioned from immemorial time in Arabia; what he did was to curtail263 them, restrict them, not on one but on many sides. His Religion is not an easy one: with rigorous fasts, lavations, strict complex formulas, prayers five times a day, and abstinence from wine, it did not “succeed by being an easy religion.” As if indeed any religion, or cause holding of religion, could succeed by that! It is a calumny264 on men to say that they are roused to heroic action by ease, hope of pleasure, recompense, — sugar-plums of any kind, in this world or the next! In the meanest mortal there lies something nobler. The poor swearing soldier, hired to be shot, has his “honor of a soldier,” different from drill-regulations and the shilling a day. It is not to taste sweet things, but to do noble and true things, and vindicate265 himself under God’s Heaven as a god-made Man, that the poorest son of Adam dimly longs. Show him the way of doing that, the dullest day-drudge kindles266 into a hero. They wrong man greatly who say he is to be seduced267 by ease. Difficulty, abnegation, martyrdom, death are the allurements268 that act on the heart of man. Kindle the inner genial269 life of him, you have a flame that burns up all lower considerations. Not happiness, but something higher: one sees this even in the frivolous270 classes, with their “point of honor” and the like. Not by flattering our appetites; no, by awakening271 the Heroic that slumbers272 in every heart, can any Religion gain followers.
Mahomet himself, after all that can be said about him, was not a sensual man. We shall err7 widely if we consider this man as a common voluptuary, intent mainly on base enjoyments273, — nay on enjoyments of any kind. His household was of the frugalest; his common diet barley-bread and water: sometimes for months there was not a fire once lighted on his hearth274. They record with just pride that he would mend his own shoes, patch his own cloak. A poor, hard-toiling, ill-provided man; careless of what vulgar men toil for. Not a bad man, I should say; something better in him than hunger of any sort, — or these wild Arab men, fighting and jostling three-and-twenty years at his hand, in close contact with him always, would not have reverenced275 him so! They were wild men, bursting ever and anon into quarrel, into all kinds of fierce sincerity; without right worth and manhood, no man could have commanded them. They called him Prophet, you say? Why, he stood there face to face with them; bare, not enshrined in any mystery; visibly clouting276 his own cloak, cobbling his own shoes; fighting, counselling, ordering in the midst of them: they must have seen what kind of a man he was, let him be called what you like! No emperor with his tiaras was obeyed as this man in a cloak of his own clouting. During three-and-twenty years of rough actual trial. I find something of a veritable Hero necessary for that, of itself.
His last words are a prayer; broken ejaculations of a heart struggling up, in trembling hope, towards its Maker. We cannot say that his religion made him worse; it made him better; good, not bad. Generous things are recorded of him: when he lost his Daughter, the thing he answers is, in his own dialect, every way sincere, and yet equivalent to that of Christians, “The Lord giveth, and the Lord taketh away; blessed be the name of the Lord.” He answered in like manner of Seid, his emancipated277 well-beloved Slave, the second of the believers. Seid had fallen in the War of Tabuc, the first of Mahomet’s fightings with the Greeks. Mahomet said, It was well; Seid had done his Master’s work, Seid had now gone to his Master: it was all well with Seid. Yet Seid’s daughter found him weeping over the body; — the old gray-haired man melting in tears! “What do I see?” said she. — “You see a friend weeping over his friend.” — He went out for the last time into the mosque, two days before his death; asked, If he had injured any man? Let his own back bear the stripes. If he owed any man? A voice answered, “Yes, me three drachms,” borrowed on such an occasion. Mahomet ordered them to be paid: “Better be in shame now,” said he, “than at the Day of Judgment.” — You remember Kadijah, and the “No, by Allah!” Traits of that kind show us the genuine man, the brother of us all, brought visible through twelve centuries, — the veritable Son of our common Mother.
Withal I like Mahomet for his total freedom from cant8. He is a rough self-helping son of the wilderness; does not pretend to be what he is not. There is no ostentatious pride in him; but neither does he go much upon humility: he is there as he can be, in cloak and shoes of his own clouting; speaks plainly to all manner of Persian Kings, Greek Emperors, what it is they are bound to do; knows well enough, about himself, “the respect due unto thee.” In a life-and-death war with Bedouins, cruel things could not fail; but neither are acts of mercy, of noble natural pity and generosity278 wanting. Mahomet makes no apology for the one, no boast of the other. They were each the free dictate216 of his heart; each called for, there and then. Not a mealy-mouthed man! A candid ferocity, if the case call for it, is in him; he does not mince279 matters! The War of Tabuc is a thing he often speaks of: his men refused, many of them, to march on that occasion; pleaded the heat of the weather, the harvest, and so forth6; he can never forget that. Your harvest? It lasts for a day. What will become of your harvest through all Eternity? Hot weather? Yes, it was hot; “but Hell will be hotter!” Sometimes a rough sarcasm280 turns up: He says to the unbelievers, Ye shall have the just measure of your deeds at that Great Day. They will be weighed out to you; ye shall not have short weight! — Everywhere he fixes the matter in his eye; he sees it: his heart, now and then, is as if struck dumb by the greatness of it. “Assuredly,” he says: that word, in the Koran, is written down sometimes as a sentence by itself: “Assuredly.”
No Dilettantism281 in this Mahomet; it is a business of Reprobation282 and Salvation with him, of Time and Eternity: he is in deadly earnest about it! Dilettantism, hypothesis, speculation, a kind of amateur-search for Truth, toying and coquetting with Truth: this is the sorest sin. The root of all other imaginable sins. It consists in the heart and soul of the man never having been open to Truth; — “living in a vain show.” Such a man not only utters and produces falsehoods, but is himself a falsehood. The rational moral principle, spark of the Divinity, is sunk deep in him, in quiet paralysis of life-death. The very falsehoods of Mahomet are truer than the truths of such a man. He is the insincere man: smooth-polished, respectable in some times and places; inoffensive, says nothing harsh to anybody; most cleanly, — just as carbonic acid is, which is death and poison.
We will not praise Mahomet’s moral precepts283 as always of the superfinest sort; yet it can be said that there is always a tendency to good in them; that they are the true dictates284 of a heart aiming towards what is just and true. The sublime forgiveness of Christianity, turning of the other cheek when the one has been smitten285, is not here: you are to revenge yourself, but it is to be in measure, not overmuch, or beyond justice. On the other hand, Islam, like any great Faith, and insight into the essence of man, is a perfect equalizer of men: the soul of one believer outweighs286 all earthly kingships; all men, according to Islam too, are equal. Mahomet insists not on the propriety287 of giving alms, but on the necessity of it: he marks down by law how much you are to give, and it is at your peril if you neglect. The tenth part of a man’s annual income, whatever that may be, is the property of the poor, of those that are afflicted288 and need help. Good all this: the natural voice of humanity, of pity and equity289 dwelling in the heart of this wild Son of Nature speaks so.
Mahomet’s Paradise is sensual, his Hell sensual: true; in the one and the other there is enough that shocks all spiritual feeling in us. But we are to recollect290 that the Arabs already had it so; that Mahomet, in whatever he changed of it, softened291 and diminished all this. The worst sensualities, too, are the work of doctors, followers of his, not his work. In the Koran there is really very little said about the joys of Paradise; they are intimated rather than insisted on. Nor is it forgotten that the highest joys even there shall be spiritual; the pure Presence of the Highest, this shall infinitely transcend292 all other joys. He says, “Your salutation shall be, Peace.” Salam, Have Peace! — the thing that all rational souls long for, and seek, vainly here below, as the one blessing293. “Ye shall sit on seats, facing one another: all grudges294 shall be taken away out of your hearts.” All grudges! Ye shall love one another freely; for each of you, in the eyes of his brothers, there will be Heaven enough!
In reference to this of the sensual Paradise and Mahomet’s sensuality, the sorest chapter of all for us, there were many things to be said; which it is not convenient to enter upon here. Two remarks only I shall make, and therewith leave it to your candor295. The first is furnished me by Goethe; it is a casual hint of his which seems well worth taking note of. In one of his Delineations, in Meister’s Travels it is, the hero comes upon a Society of men with very strange ways, one of which was this: “We require,” says the Master, “that each of our people shall restrict himself in one direction,” shall go right against his desire in one matter, and make himself do the thing he does not wish, “should we allow him the greater latitude296 on all other sides.” There seems to me a great justness in this. Enjoying things which are pleasant; that is not the evil: it is the reducing of our moral self to slavery by them that is. Let a man assert withal that he is king over his habitudes; that he could and would shake them off, on cause shown: this is an excellent law. The Month Ramadhan for the Moslem, much in Mahomet’s Religion, much in his own Life, bears in that direction; if not by forethought, or clear purpose of moral improvement on his part, then by a certain healthy manful instinct, which is as good.
But there is another thing to be said about the Mahometan Heaven and Hell. This namely, that, however gross and material they may be, they are an emblem of an everlasting297 truth, not always so well remembered elsewhere. That gross sensual Paradise of his; that horrible flaming Hell; the great enormous Day of Judgment he perpetually insists on: what is all this but a rude shadow, in the rude Bedouin imagination, of that grand spiritual Fact, and Beginning of Facts, which it is ill for us too if we do not all know and feel: the Infinite Nature of Duty? That man’s actions here are of infinite moment to him, and never die or end at all; that man, with his little life, reaches upwards298 high as Heaven, downwards299 low as Hell, and in his threescore years of Time holds an Eternity fearfully and wonderfully hidden: all this had burnt itself, as in flame-characters, into the wild Arab soul. As in flame and lightning, it stands written there; awful, unspeakable, ever present to him. With bursting earnestness, with a fierce savage sincerity, half-articulating, not able to articulate, he strives to speak it, bodies it forth in that Heaven and that Hell. Bodied forth in what way you will, it is the first of all truths. It is venerable under all embodiments. What is the chief end of man here below? Mahomet has answered this question, in a way that might put some of us to shame! He does not, like a Bentham, a Paley, take Right and Wrong, and calculate the profit and loss, ultimate pleasure of the one and of the other; and summing all up by addition and subtraction300 into a net result, ask you, Whether on the whole the Right does not preponderate301 considerably302? No; it is not better to do the one than the other; the one is to the other as life is to death, — as Heaven is to Hell. The one must in nowise be done, the other in nowise left undone303. You shall not measure them; they are incommensurable: the one is death eternal to a man, the other is life eternal. Benthamee Utility, virtue304 by Profit and Loss; reducing this God’s-world to a dead brute305 Steam-engine, the infinite celestial Soul of Man to a kind of Hay-balance for weighing hay and thistles on, pleasures and pains on:— If you ask me which gives, Mahomet or they, the beggarlier and falser view of Man and his Destinies in this Universe, I will answer, it is not Mahomet —!
On the whole, we will repeat that this Religion of Mahomet’s is a kind of Christianity; has a genuine element of what is spiritually highest looking through it, not to be hidden by all its imperfections. The Scandinavian God Wish, the god of all rude men, — this has been enlarged into a Heaven by Mahomet; but a Heaven symbolical306 of sacred Duty, and to be earned by faith and well-doing, by valiant307 action, and a divine patience which is still more valiant. It is Scandinavian Paganism, and a truly celestial element superadded to that. Call it not false; look not at the falsehood of it, look at the truth of it. For these twelve centuries, it has been the religion and life-guidance of the fifth part of the whole kindred of Mankind. Above all things, it has been a religion heartily308 believed. These Arabs believe their religion, and try to live by it! No Christians, since the early ages, or only perhaps the English Puritans in modern times, have ever stood by their Faith as the Moslem do by theirs, — believing it wholly, fronting Time with it, and Eternity with it. This night the watchman on the streets of Cairo when he cries, “Who goes?” will hear from the passenger, along with his answer, “There is no God but God.” Allah akbar, Islam, sounds through the souls, and whole daily existence, of these dusky millions. Zealous missionaries309 preach it abroad among Malays, black Papuans, brutal310 Idolaters; — displacing what is worse, nothing that is better or good.
To the Arab Nation it was as a birth from darkness into light; Arabia first became alive by means of it. A poor shepherd people, roaming unnoticed in its deserts since the creation of the world: a Hero–Prophet was sent down to them with a word they could believe: see, the unnoticed becomes world-notable, the small has grown world-great; within one century afterwards, Arabia is at Grenada on this hand, at Delhi on that; — glancing in valor311 and splendor and the light of genius, Arabia shines through long ages over a great section of the world. Belief is great, life-giving. The history of a Nation becomes fruitful, soul-elevating, great, so soon as it believes. These Arabs, the man Mahomet, and that one century, — is it not as if a spark had fallen, one spark, on a world of what seemed black unnoticeable sand; but lo, the sand proves explosive powder, blazes heaven-high from Delhi to Grenada! I said, the Great Man was always as lightning out of Heaven; the rest of men waited for him like fuel, and then they too would flame.
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1
epoch
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n.(新)时代;历元 | |
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con
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n.反对的观点,反对者,反对票,肺病;vt.精读,学习,默记;adv.反对地,从反面;adj.欺诈的 | |
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3
nay
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adv.不;n.反对票,投反对票者 | |
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standing
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n.持续,地位;adj.永久的,不动的,直立的,不流动的 | |
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maker
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n.制造者,制造商 | |
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forth
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adv.向前;向外,往外 | |
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err
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vi.犯错误,出差错 | |
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cant
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n.斜穿,黑话,猛扔 | |
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prostrate
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v.拜倒,平卧,衰竭;adj.拜倒的,平卧的,衰竭的 | |
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10
denizen
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n.居民,外籍居民 | |
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wreck
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n.失事,遇难;沉船;vt.(船等)失事,遇难 | |
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betokening
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v.预示,表示( betoken的现在分词 ) | |
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mere
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adj.纯粹的;仅仅,只不过 | |
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admiration
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n.钦佩,赞美,羡慕 | |
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irrational
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adj.无理性的,失去理性的 | |
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supercilious
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adj.目中无人的,高傲的;adv.高傲地;n.高傲 | |
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eminent
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adj.显赫的,杰出的,有名的,优良的 | |
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esteem
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n.尊敬,尊重;vt.尊重,敬重;把…看作 | |
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incarnate
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adj.化身的,人体化的,肉色的 | |
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quackery
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n.庸医的医术,骗子的行为 | |
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fatuity
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n.愚蠢,愚昧 | |
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zeal
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n.热心,热情,热忱 | |
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graceful
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adj.优美的,优雅的;得体的 | |
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dictating
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v.大声讲或读( dictate的现在分词 );口授;支配;摆布 | |
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spoke
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n.(车轮的)辐条;轮辐;破坏某人的计划;阻挠某人的行动 v.讲,谈(speak的过去式);说;演说;从某种观点来说 | |
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miserable
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adj.悲惨的,痛苦的;可怜的,糟糕的 | |
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legerdemain
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n.戏法,诈术 | |
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almighty
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adj.全能的,万能的;很大的,很强的 | |
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entirely
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ad.全部地,完整地;完全地,彻底地 | |
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alas
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int.唉(表示悲伤、忧愁、恐惧等) | |
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lamentable
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adj.令人惋惜的,悔恨的 | |
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attain
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vt.达到,获得,完成 | |
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paralysis
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n.麻痹(症);瘫痪(症) | |
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promulgated
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v.宣扬(某事物)( promulgate的过去式和过去分词 );传播;公布;颁布(法令、新法律等) | |
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promulgate
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v.宣布;传播;颁布(法令、新法律等) | |
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mortar
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n.灰浆,灰泥;迫击炮;v.把…用灰浆涂接合 | |
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lodge
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v.临时住宿,寄宿,寄存,容纳;n.传达室,小旅馆 | |
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specious
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adj.似是而非的;adv.似是而非地 | |
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prosper
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v.成功,兴隆,昌盛;使成功,使昌隆,繁荣 | |
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veracity
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n.诚实 | |
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credible
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adj.可信任的,可靠的 | |
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sincerity
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n.真诚,诚意;真实 | |
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braggart
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n.吹牛者;adj.吹牛的,自夸的 | |
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accurately
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adv.准确地,精确地 | |
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hearsay
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n.谣传,风闻 | |
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utterances
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n.发声( utterance的名词复数 );说话方式;语调;言论 | |
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primal
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adj.原始的;最重要的 | |
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inanity
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n.无意义,无聊 | |
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theatricality
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n.戏剧风格,不自然 | |
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fiery
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adj.燃烧着的,火红的;暴躁的;激烈的 | |
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51
bosom
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n.胸,胸部;胸怀;内心;adj.亲密的 | |
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52
kindle
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v.点燃,着火 | |
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53
sneer
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v.轻蔑;嘲笑;n.嘲笑,讥讽的言语 | |
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remorse
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n.痛恨,悔恨,自责 | |
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repentance
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n.懊悔 | |
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humility
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n.谦逊,谦恭 | |
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psalms
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n.赞美诗( psalm的名词复数 );圣诗;圣歌;(中的) | |
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emblem
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n.象征,标志;徽章 | |
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warfare
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n.战争(状态);斗争;冲突 | |
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dwelling
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n.住宅,住所,寓所 | |
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61
candidly
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adv.坦率地,直率而诚恳地 | |
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candid
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adj.公正的,正直的;坦率的 | |
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savage
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adj.野蛮的;凶恶的,残暴的;n.未开化的人 | |
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inaccessible
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adj.达不到的,难接近的 | |
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agile
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adj.敏捷的,灵活的 | |
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meditative
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adj.沉思的,冥想的 | |
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slay
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v.杀死,宰杀,杀戮 | |
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loquacious
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adj.多嘴的,饶舌的 | |
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eloquent
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adj.雄辩的,口才流利的;明白显示出的 | |
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truthful
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adj.真实的,说实话的,诚实的 | |
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poetic
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adj.富有诗意的,有诗人气质的,善于抒情的 | |
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zealous
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adj.狂热的,热心的 | |
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immediate
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adj.立即的;直接的,最接近的;紧靠的 | |
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manifestation
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n.表现形式;表明;现象 | |
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75
manifestations
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n.表示,显示(manifestation的复数形式) | |
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whatsoever
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adv.(用于否定句中以加强语气)任何;pron.无论什么 | |
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diluted
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无力的,冲淡的 | |
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devoutness
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朝拜 | |
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devout
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adj.虔诚的,虔敬的,衷心的 (n.devoutness) | |
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rustic
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adj.乡村的,有乡村特色的;n.乡下人,乡巴佬 | |
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patriotism
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n.爱国精神,爱国心,爱国主义 | |
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82
reigns
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n.君主的统治( reign的名词复数 );君主统治时期;任期;当政期 | |
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83
simplicity
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n.简单,简易;朴素;直率,单纯 | |
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epic
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n.史诗,叙事诗;adj.史诗般的,壮丽的 | |
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repose
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v.(使)休息;n.安息 | |
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drawn
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v.拖,拉,拔出;adj.憔悴的,紧张的 | |
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87
sublime
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adj.崇高的,伟大的;极度的,不顾后果的 | |
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88
reconciliation
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n.和解,和谐,一致 | |
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89
gushing
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adj.迸出的;涌出的;喷出的;过分热情的v.喷,涌( gush的现在分词 );滔滔不绝地说话 | |
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90
wilderness
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n.杳无人烟的一片陆地、水等,荒漠 | |
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91
quaint
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adj.古雅的,离奇有趣的,奇怪的 | |
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92
ornaments
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n.装饰( ornament的名词复数 );点缀;装饰品;首饰v.装饰,点缀,美化( ornament的第三人称单数 ) | |
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93
authentic
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a.真的,真正的;可靠的,可信的,有根据的 | |
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94
Moslem
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n.回教徒,穆罕默德信徒;adj.回教徒的,回教的 | |
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95
thither
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adv.向那里;adj.在那边的,对岸的 | |
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96
lodgings
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n. 出租的房舍, 寄宿舍 | |
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97
thereby
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adv.因此,从而 | |
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98
staple
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n.主要产物,常用品,主要要素,原料,订书钉,钩环;adj.主要的,重要的;vt.分类 | |
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99
warehouse
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n.仓库;vt.存入仓库 | |
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100
theocracy
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n.神权政治;僧侣政治 | |
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101
asunder
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adj.分离的,化为碎片 | |
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102
adoration
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n.爱慕,崇拜 | |
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103
tottering
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adj.蹒跚的,动摇的v.走得或动得不稳( totter的现在分词 );踉跄;蹒跚;摇摇欲坠 | |
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104
ferment
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vt.使发酵;n./vt.(使)激动,(使)动乱 | |
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105
transacted
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v.办理(业务等)( transact的过去式和过去分词 );交易,谈判 | |
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106
noted
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adj.著名的,知名的 | |
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107
orphan
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n.孤儿;adj.无父母的 | |
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108
eldest
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adj.最年长的,最年老的 | |
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109
betokens
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v.预示,表示( betoken的第三人称单数 ) | |
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110
Christian
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adj.基督教徒的;n.基督教徒 | |
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111
monk
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n.和尚,僧侣,修道士 | |
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112
lodged
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v.存放( lodge的过去式和过去分词 );暂住;埋入;(权利、权威等)归属 | |
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113
unintelligible
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adj.无法了解的,难解的,莫明其妙的 | |
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114
intelligible
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adj.可理解的,明白易懂的,清楚的 | |
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115
ripen
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vt.使成熟;vi.成熟 | |
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116
rumor
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n.谣言,谣传,传说 | |
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117
fidelity
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n.忠诚,忠实;精确 | |
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118
pertinent
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adj.恰当的;贴切的;中肯的;有关的;相干的 | |
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119
amiable
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adj.和蔼可亲的,友善的,亲切的 | |
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120
jocose
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adj.开玩笑的,滑稽的 | |
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121
complexion
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n.肤色;情况,局面;气质,性格 | |
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122
vein
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n.血管,静脉;叶脉,纹理;情绪;vt.使成脉络 | |
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123
swelled
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增强( swell的过去式和过去分词 ); 肿胀; (使)凸出; 充满(激情) | |
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124
swelling
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n.肿胀 | |
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125
passionate
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adj.热情的,热烈的,激昂的,易动情的,易怒的,性情暴躁的 | |
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126
faculty
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n.才能;学院,系;(学院或系的)全体教学人员 | |
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127
steward
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n.乘务员,服务员;看管人;膳食管理员 | |
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128
adroitness
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129
gratitude
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adj.感激,感谢 | |
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130
wholesome
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adj.适合;卫生的;有益健康的;显示身心健康的 | |
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131
wedded
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adj.正式结婚的;渴望…的,执著于…的v.嫁,娶,(与…)结婚( wed的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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132
prurient
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adj.好色的,淫乱的 | |
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133
belying
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v.掩饰,与…不符,使…失望;掩饰( belie的现在分词 );证明(或显示)…为虚假;辜负;就…扯谎 | |
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134
charlatan
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n.骗子;江湖医生;假内行 | |
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135
contented
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adj.满意的,安心的,知足的 | |
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136
splendor
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n.光彩;壮丽,华丽;显赫,辉煌 | |
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137
splendors
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n.华丽( splendor的名词复数 );壮丽;光辉;显赫 | |
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138
solitude
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n. 孤独; 独居,荒僻之地,幽静的地方 | |
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139
solitudes
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n.独居( solitude的名词复数 );孤独;荒僻的地方;人迹罕至的地方 | |
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140
jargon
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n.术语,行话 | |
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141
sects
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n.宗派,教派( sect的名词复数 ) | |
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142
heroism
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n.大无畏精神,英勇 | |
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143
wont
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adj.习惯于;v.习惯;n.习惯 | |
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144
gilded
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a.镀金的,富有的 | |
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145
miserably
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adv.痛苦地;悲惨地;糟糕地;极度地 | |
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146
eternity
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n.不朽,来世;永恒,无穷 | |
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147
gilt
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adj.镀金的;n.金边证券 | |
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148
salvation
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n.(尤指基督)救世,超度,拯救,解困 | |
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149
worthy
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adj.(of)值得的,配得上的;有价值的 | |
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150
withdrawn
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vt.收回;使退出;vi.撤退,退出 | |
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151
cavern
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n.洞穴,大山洞 | |
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152
meditation
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n.熟虑,(尤指宗教的)默想,沉思,(pl.)冥想录 | |
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153
idols
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偶像( idol的名词复数 ); 受崇拜的人或物; 受到热爱和崇拜的人或物; 神像 | |
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154
submission
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n.服从,投降;温顺,谦虚;提出 | |
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155
frantic
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adj.狂乱的,错乱的,激昂的 | |
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156
pretension
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n.要求;自命,自称;自负 | |
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157
invincible
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adj.不可征服的,难以制服的 | |
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158
virtuous
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adj.有品德的,善良的,贞洁的,有效力的 | |
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159
precisely
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adv.恰好,正好,精确地,细致地 | |
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160
victorious
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adj.胜利的,得胜的 | |
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161
cavils
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v.挑剔,吹毛求疵( cavil的第三人称单数 ) | |
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162
illuminate
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vt.照亮,照明;用灯光装饰;说明,阐释 | |
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163
logics
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n.逻辑(学)( logic的名词复数 );逻辑学;(做某事的)道理;推理方法 | |
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164
logic
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n.逻辑(学);逻辑性 | |
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165
babble
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v.含糊不清地说,胡言乱语地说,儿语 | |
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166
vouchsafed
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v.给予,赐予( vouchsafe的过去式和过去分词 );允诺 | |
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167
providence
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n.深谋远虑,天道,天意;远见;节约;上帝 | |
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168
boundless
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adj.无限的;无边无际的;巨大的 | |
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169
infinitely
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adv.无限地,无穷地 | |
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170
distinguished
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adj.卓越的,杰出的,著名的 | |
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171
doctrine
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n.教义;主义;学说 | |
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172
ridicule
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v.讥讽,挖苦;n.嘲弄 | |
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173
indifference
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n.不感兴趣,不关心,冷淡,不在乎 | |
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174
followers
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追随者( follower的名词复数 ); 用户; 契据的附面; 从动件 | |
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175
chivalrous
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adj.武士精神的;对女人彬彬有礼的 | |
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176
assassination
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n.暗杀;暗杀事件 | |
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177
mosque
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n.清真寺 | |
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178
superintendents
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警长( superintendent的名词复数 ); (大楼的)管理人; 监管人; (美国)警察局长 | |
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179
rebukes
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责难或指责( rebuke的第三人称单数 ) | |
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180
adherents
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n.支持者,拥护者( adherent的名词复数 );党羽;徒子徒孙 | |
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181
hatred
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n.憎恶,憎恨,仇恨 | |
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182
solicitous
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adj.热切的,挂念的 | |
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183
caverns
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大山洞,大洞穴( cavern的名词复数 ) | |
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184
peril
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n.(严重的)危险;危险的事物 | |
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185
hegira
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n.逃亡 | |
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186
desolate
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adj.荒凉的,荒芜的;孤独的,凄凉的;v.使荒芜,使孤寂 | |
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187
encompassed
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v.围绕( encompass的过去式和过去分词 );包围;包含;包括 | |
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188
professed
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公开声称的,伪称的,已立誓信教的 | |
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189
persuasion
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n.劝说;说服;持有某种信仰的宗派 | |
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190
foully
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ad.卑鄙地 | |
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191
trample
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vt.踩,践踏;无视,伤害,侵犯 | |
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192
toil
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vi.辛劳工作,艰难地行动;n.苦工,难事 | |
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193
radical
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n.激进份子,原子团,根号;adj.根本的,激进的,彻底的 | |
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194
disdained
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鄙视( disdain的过去式和过去分词 ); 不屑于做,不愿意做 | |
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195
conversion
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n.转化,转换,转变 | |
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196
implement
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n.(pl.)工具,器具;vt.实行,实施,执行 | |
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197
beak
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n.鸟嘴,茶壶嘴,钩形鼻 | |
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198
duel
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n./v.决斗;(双方的)斗争 | |
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199
tolerance
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n.宽容;容忍,忍受;耐药力;公差 | |
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200
chaff
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v.取笑,嘲笑;n.谷壳 | |
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201
shrouds
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n.裹尸布( shroud的名词复数 );寿衣;遮蔽物;覆盖物v.隐瞒( shroud的第三人称单数 );保密 | |
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202
embodied
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v.表现( embody的过去式和过去分词 );象征;包括;包含 | |
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203
immortal
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adj.不朽的;永生的,不死的;神的 | |
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204
judgment
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n.审判;判断力,识别力,看法,意见 | |
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205
impure
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adj.不纯净的,不洁的;不道德的,下流的 | |
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206
creed
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n.信条;信念,纲领 | |
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207
embedded
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a.扎牢的 | |
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208
portentous
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adj.不祥的,可怕的,装腔作势的 | |
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209
bastard
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n.坏蛋,混蛋;私生子 | |
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210
subtleties
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细微( subtlety的名词复数 ); 精细; 巧妙; 细微的差别等 | |
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211
rumors
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n.传闻( rumor的名词复数 );[古]名誉;咕哝;[古]喧嚷v.传闻( rumor的第三人称单数 );[古]名誉;咕哝;[古]喧嚷 | |
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212
kernel
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n.(果实的)核,仁;(问题)的中心,核心 | |
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213
blasphemous
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adj.亵渎神明的,不敬神的 | |
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214
devoured
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吞没( devour的过去式和过去分词 ); 耗尽; 津津有味地看; 狼吞虎咽地吃光 | |
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215
dictated
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v.大声讲或读( dictate的过去式和过去分词 );口授;支配;摆布 | |
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216
dictate
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v.口授;(使)听写;指令,指示,命令 | |
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217
intervals
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n.[军事]间隔( interval的名词复数 );间隔时间;[数学]区间;(戏剧、电影或音乐会的)幕间休息 | |
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218
disciples
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n.信徒( disciple的名词复数 );门徒;耶稣的信徒;(尤指)耶稣十二门徒之一 | |
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219
reverence
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n.敬畏,尊敬,尊严;Reverence:对某些基督教神职人员的尊称;v.尊敬,敬畏,崇敬 | |
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220
Christians
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n.基督教徒( Christian的名词复数 ) | |
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221
speculation
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n.思索,沉思;猜测;投机 | |
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222
mosques
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清真寺; 伊斯兰教寺院,清真寺; 清真寺,伊斯兰教寺院( mosque的名词复数 ) | |
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223
discrepancies
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n.差异,不符合(之处),不一致(之处)( discrepancy的名词复数 ) | |
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224
jumble
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vt.使混乱,混杂;n.混乱;杂乱的一堆 | |
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225
entanglement
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n.纠缠,牵累 | |
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226
lumber
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n.木材,木料;v.以破旧东西堆满;伐木;笨重移动 | |
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227
remarkable
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adj.显著的,异常的,非凡的,值得注意的 | |
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228
promulgation
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n.颁布 | |
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229
strictly
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adv.严厉地,严格地;严密地 | |
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230
rhythmic
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adj.有节奏的,有韵律的 | |
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231
contrive
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vt.谋划,策划;设法做到;设计,想出 | |
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232
juggler
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n. 变戏法者, 行骗者 | |
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233
varnish
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n.清漆;v.上清漆;粉饰 | |
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234
forger
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v.伪造;n.(钱、文件等的)伪造者 | |
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235
fervent
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adj.热的,热烈的,热情的 | |
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236
vehement
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adj.感情强烈的;热烈的;(人)有强烈感情的 | |
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237
vehemently
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adv. 热烈地 | |
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238
intensity
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n.强烈,剧烈;强度;烈度 | |
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239
coherence
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n.紧凑;连贯;一致性 | |
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240
chaotic
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adj.混沌的,一片混乱的,一团糟的 | |
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241
vehemence
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n.热切;激烈;愤怒 | |
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242
vicissitudes
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n.变迁,世事变化;变迁兴衰( vicissitude的名词复数 );盛衰兴废 | |
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243
seething
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沸腾的,火热的 | |
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244
forgery
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n.伪造的文件等,赝品,伪造(行为) | |
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245
celestial
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adj.天体的;天上的 | |
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246
curiously
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adv.有求知欲地;好问地;奇特地 | |
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247
fabulous
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adj.极好的;极为巨大的;寓言中的,传说中的 | |
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248
solace
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n.安慰;v.使快乐;vt.安慰(物),缓和 | |
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249
rugged
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adj.高低不平的,粗糙的,粗壮的,强健的 | |
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250
vigor
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n.活力,精力,元气 | |
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251
bestows
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赠给,授予( bestow的第三人称单数 ) | |
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252
compassion
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n.同情,怜悯 | |
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253
vestiges
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残余部分( vestige的名词复数 ); 遗迹; 痕迹; 毫不 | |
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254
miraculous
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adj.像奇迹一样的,不可思议的 | |
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255
contrived
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adj.不自然的,做作的;虚构的 | |
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256
vapor
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n.蒸汽,雾气 | |
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257
inane
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adj.空虚的,愚蠢的,空洞的 | |
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258
salable
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adj.有销路的,适销的 | |
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259
steamships
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n.汽船,大轮船( steamship的名词复数 ) | |
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260
withered
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adj. 枯萎的,干瘪的,(人身体的部分器官)因病萎缩的或未发育良好的 动词wither的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
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261
contentious
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adj.好辩的,善争吵的 | |
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262
pedantry
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n.迂腐,卖弄学问 | |
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263
curtail
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vt.截短,缩短;削减 | |
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264
calumny
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n.诽谤,污蔑,中伤 | |
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265
vindicate
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v.为…辩护或辩解,辩明;证明…正确 | |
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266
kindles
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(使某物)燃烧,着火( kindle的第三人称单数 ); 激起(感情等); 发亮,放光 | |
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267
seduced
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诱奸( seduce的过去式和过去分词 ); 勾引; 诱使堕落; 使入迷 | |
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268
allurements
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n.诱惑( allurement的名词复数 );吸引;诱惑物;有诱惑力的事物 | |
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269
genial
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adj.亲切的,和蔼的,愉快的,脾气好的 | |
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270
frivolous
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adj.轻薄的;轻率的 | |
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271
awakening
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n.觉醒,醒悟 adj.觉醒中的;唤醒的 | |
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272
slumbers
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睡眠,安眠( slumber的名词复数 ) | |
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273
enjoyments
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愉快( enjoyment的名词复数 ); 令人愉快的事物; 享有; 享受 | |
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274
hearth
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n.壁炉炉床,壁炉地面 | |
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275
reverenced
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v.尊敬,崇敬( reverence的过去式和过去分词 );敬礼 | |
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276
clouting
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v.(尤指用手)猛击,重打( clout的现在分词 ) | |
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277
emancipated
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adj.被解放的,不受约束的v.解放某人(尤指摆脱政治、法律或社会的束缚)( emancipate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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278
generosity
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n.大度,慷慨,慷慨的行为 | |
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279
mince
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n.切碎物;v.切碎,矫揉做作地说 | |
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280
sarcasm
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n.讥讽,讽刺,嘲弄,反话 (adj.sarcastic) | |
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281
dilettantism
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n.业余的艺术爱好,浅涉文艺,浅薄涉猎 | |
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282
reprobation
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n.斥责 | |
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283
precepts
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n.规诫,戒律,箴言( precept的名词复数 ) | |
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284
dictates
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n.命令,规定,要求( dictate的名词复数 )v.大声讲或读( dictate的第三人称单数 );口授;支配;摆布 | |
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285
smitten
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猛打,重击,打击( smite的过去分词 ) | |
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286
outweighs
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v.在重量上超过( outweigh的第三人称单数 );在重要性或价值方面超过 | |
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287
propriety
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n.正当行为;正当;适当 | |
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288
afflicted
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使受痛苦,折磨( afflict的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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289
equity
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n.公正,公平,(无固定利息的)股票 | |
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290
recollect
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v.回忆,想起,记起,忆起,记得 | |
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291
softened
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(使)变软( soften的过去式和过去分词 ); 缓解打击; 缓和; 安慰 | |
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292
transcend
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vt.超出,超越(理性等)的范围 | |
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293
blessing
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n.祈神赐福;祷告;祝福,祝愿 | |
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294
grudges
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不满,怨恨,妒忌( grudge的名词复数 ) | |
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295
candor
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n.坦白,率真 | |
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296
latitude
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n.纬度,行动或言论的自由(范围),(pl.)地区 | |
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297
everlasting
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adj.永恒的,持久的,无止境的 | |
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298
upwards
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adv.向上,在更高处...以上 | |
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299
downwards
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adj./adv.向下的(地),下行的(地) | |
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300
subtraction
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n.减法,减去 | |
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301
preponderate
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v.数目超过;占优势 | |
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302
considerably
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adv.极大地;相当大地;在很大程度上 | |
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303
undone
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a.未做完的,未完成的 | |
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304
virtue
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n.德行,美德;贞操;优点;功效,效力 | |
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305
brute
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n.野兽,兽性 | |
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306
symbolical
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a.象征性的 | |
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307
valiant
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adj.勇敢的,英勇的;n.勇士,勇敢的人 | |
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308
heartily
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adv.衷心地,诚恳地,十分,很 | |
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309
missionaries
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n.传教士( missionary的名词复数 ) | |
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310
brutal
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adj.残忍的,野蛮的,不讲理的 | |
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311
valor
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n.勇气,英勇 | |
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