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Theodor Nöldeke: THE QUR'AN
THE QUR'AN
An Introduction by Theodor Nöldeke
The Qur'an (Kor'an) is the foundation of Islam. It is the sacred book
of more than a hundred millions of men, some of them nations of immemorial
civilization, by all of whom it is regarded as the immediate word of God.
And since the use of the Qur'an in public worship, in schools and otherwise,
is much more extensive than, for example, the reading of the Bible in most
Christian countries, it has truly been described as the most widely-read
book in existence. This circumstance alone is sufficient to give it an
urgent claim on our attention, whether it suit our taste and fall in with
our religious and philosophical views or not. Besides, it is the work of
Muhammad, and as such is fitted to afford a clue to the spiritual development
of that most successful of all prophets and religious personalities. It must
be owned that the first perusal leaves on a European an impression of chaotic
confusion, - not that the book is very extensive, for it is not quite so
large as the New Testament. This impression can in some degree be modified
only by the application of a critical analysis with the assistance of Arabian
tradition.
To the faith of the Muslims, as has been said, the Qur'an is the word
of God, and such also is the claim which the book itself advances. For except
in sura i. - which is a prayer for men - and some passages where Muhammad
(vi. 104,114; xxvii. 93; xlii. 8), or the angels (xix. 65; xxxvii. 164 sqq.),
speak in the first person without the intervention of the usual imperative
"say" (sing. or pl.), the speaker throughout is God, either in the first
person singular, or more commonly the plural of majesty, "we." The same
mode of address is familiar to us from the prophets of the Old Testament;
the human personality disappears, in the moment of inspiration, behind
the God by whom it is filled. But all the greatest Hebrew prophets fall
back speedily upon the unassuming human "I"; while in the Qur'an the divine
"I" is the stereotyped form of address. Muhammad, however, really felt
himself to be the instrument of God; this consciousness was no doubt
brighter at his first appearance than it afterwards became, but it never
entirely forsook him. We might therefore readily pardon him for giving out,
not only the results of imaginative and emotional excitement, but also many
expositions or decrees which were the outcome of cool calculation, as the
word of God, if he had only attained the pure moral attitude which in an
Isaiah or a Jeremiah fills us with admiration after the lapse of ages.
The rationale of revelation is explained in the Qur'an itself as follows:
In heaven is the original text ("the mother of the book," xliii. 3;
"a concealed book," lv. 77; "a well-guarded tablet," lxxxv. 22). By a process
of "sending down" (tanzil), one piece after another was communicated
to the Prophet. The mediator was an angel, who is called sometimes the
"Spirit" (xxvi. 193), sometimes the holy Spirit (xvi. 104), and at a later
time "Gabriel" (ii. 91). This angel dictates the revelation to the Prophet,
who repeats it after him, and afterwards proclaims it to the world
(lxxxvii. 6; etc.). It is plain that we have here a somewhat crude attempt
of the Prophet to represent to himself the more or less unconscious process
by which his ideas arose and gradually took shape in his mind. It is no
wonder if in such confused imagery the details are not always self-consistent.
When, for example, this heavenly archetype is said to be in the hands of an
exalted "scribe" (lxxx. 13 sqq.), this seems a transition to a quite different
set of ideas, namely, the books of fate, or the record of all human actions
- conceptions which are actually found in the Qur'an. It is to be observed
at all events, that Muhammad's transcendental idea of God, as a Being
altogether above the world, excludes the thought of a direct intercourse
between the prophet and God.
It is an explicit statement of the Qur'an that the sacred book was revealed
("sent down") by God, not all at once, but piecemeal and gradually (xxv. 34).
This is evident from the actual composition of the book, and is confirmed by
Muslim tradition. That is to say Muhammad issued his revelations in fly-leaves
of greater or less extent. A single piece of this kind was called either,
like the entire collection, qur'an, i.e., "reading," or rather
"recitation"; or kitab, i.e., "writing"; or sura, which is the
late-Hebrew shura, and means literally "series." The last became, in
the lifetime of Muhammad, the regular designation of the individual sections
as distinguished from the whole collection; and accordingly it is the name
given to the separate chapters of the existing Qur'an. These chapters are
of unequal length. Since many of the shorter ones are undoubtedly complete
in themselves, it is natural to assume that the longer, which are sometimes
very comprehensive, have arisen from the amalgamation of various originally
distinct revelations. This supposition is favored by the numerous traditions
which give us the circumstances under which this or that short piece, now
incorporated in a larger section, was revealed; and also by the fact that
the connection of thought in the present suras often seems to be interrupted.
And in reality many pieces of the long suras have to be severed out as
originally independent; even in the short ones parts are often found which
cannot have been there at first. At the same time we must beware of taking
this sifting operation too far - as I now believe myself to have done in
my earlier works, and as Sprenger in his great book on Muhammad also sometimes
seems to do. That some suras were of considerable length from the first is
seen, for example, from xii., which contains a short introduction, then the
history of Joseph, and then a few concluding observations, and is therefore
perfectly homogeneous. In like manner, xx., which is mainly occupied with
the history of Moses, forms a complete whole. The same is true of xviii.,
which at first sight seems to fall into several pieces; the history of the
seven sleepers, the grotesque narrative about Moses, and that about Alexander
"the Horned," are all connected together and the same rhyme runs through
the whole sura. Even in the separate narrations we may observe how readily
the Qur'an passes from one subject to another, how little care is taken to
express all the transitions of thought, and how frequent clauses are omitted,
which are almost indispensable. We are not at liberty, therefore, in every
case where the connection in the Qur'an is obscure, to say that it is really
broken, and set it down as the clumsy patchwork of a later hand. Even in
the old Arabic poetry such abrupt transitions are of very frequent occurrence.
It is not uncommon for the Qur'an, after a new subject has been entered on,
to return gradually or suddenly to the former theme - a proof that there
at least separation is not to be thought of. In short, however imperfectly
the Qur'an may have been redacted, in the majority of cases the present
suras are identical with the originals.
How these revelations actually arose in Muhammad's mind is a question
which is almost as idle to discuss as it would be to analyze the
workings of the mind of a poet. In his early career, sometimes perhaps in
its later stages also, many revelations must have burst from him in
uncontrollable excitement, so that he could not possibly regard them
otherwise than as divine inspirations. We must bear in mind that he was
no cold systematic thinker, but an Oriental visionary, brought up in
crass superstition, and without intellectual discipline; a man whose
nervous temperament had been powerfully worked on by ascetic austerities,
and who was all the more irritated by the opposition he encountered,
because he had little of the heroic in his nature. Filled with his religious
ideas and visions he might well fancy he heard the angel bidding him to
recite what was said to him. There may have been many a revelation of
this kind which no one ever heard but himself, as he repeated it to himself
in the silent of the night (lxxiii. 4). Indeed the Qur'an itself admits
that he forgot some revelations (lxxxvii. 6). But by far the greatest
part of the book is undoubtedly the result of
deliberation, touched more
or less with emotion and animated by a certain rhetorical rather than
poetical glow. Many passages are based upon purely intellectual reflection.
It is said that Muhammad occasionally uttered such a passage immediately
after one of those epileptic fits which not only his followers, but (for
a time at least) he himself also, regarded as tokens of intercourse with
the higher powers. If that is the case, it is impossible to say whether
the trick was in the utterance of the revelation or in the fit itself.
How the various pieces of the Qur'an took literary form is uncertain.
Muhammad himself, so far as we can discover, never wrote down anything.
The question whether he could read and write has been much debated among
Muslims, unfortunately more with dogmatic arguments and spurious traditions
than authentic proofs. At present, one is inclined to say that he was
not altogether ignorant of these arts, but that from want of practice
he found it convenient to employ someone else whenever he had anything
to write. After the emigration to Medina (A.D. 622) we are told that
short pieces - chiefly legal decisions - were taken down immediately
after they were revealed, by an adherent whom he summoned for the purpose;
so that nothing stood in the way of their publication. Hence it is probable
that in Mecca, where, as in a mercantile town, writing was commoner than
in Medina, a place of agriculture, he had already begun to have his oracles
committed to writing. That even long portions of the Qur'an existed in
written form from an early date may be pretty safely inferred from various
indications, especially from the fact that in Mecca the Prophet had caused
insertions to be made, and pieces to be erased, in his previous revelations.
For we cannot suppose that he knew the longer suras by heart so perfectly
that he was able after a time to lay his finger upon any particular passage.
In some instances, indeed, he may have relied too much on his memory. For
example, he seems to have occasionally dictated the same sura to different
persons in slightly different terms. In such cases, no doubt, he may have
partly intended to introduce improvements; and so long as the difference
was merely in expression, without affecting the sense, it could occasion
no perplexity to his followers. None of them had literary pedantry enough
to question the consistency of the divine revelation on that ground. In
particular instances, however, the difference of reading was too important
to be overlooked. Thus the Qur'an itself confesses that the unbelievers
cast it up as a reproach to the Prophet that God sometimes substituted one
verse for another (xvi. 103). On one occasion, when a dispute arose between
two of his own followers as to the true reading of a passage which both
had received from the Prophet himself, Muhammad is said to have explained
that the Qur'an was revealed in seven forms. In this dictum, which perhaps
is genuine, seven stands, of course, as in many other cases, for an
indefinite but limited number. But one may imagine what a world of trouble
it has cost the Muslim theologians to explain the saying in accordance with
their dogmatic beliefs. A great number of explanations are current, some
of which claim the authority of the Prophet himself; as, indeed fictitious
utterances of Muhammad play throughout a conspicuous part in the exegesis
of the Qur'an. One very favorite, but utterly untenable interpretation is
that the "seven forms" are seven different dialects.
When such discrepancies came to the cognisance of Muhammad it was
doubtless his desire that only one of the conflicting texts should be
considered authentic, only he never gave himself much trouble to have
his wish carried into effect. Although in theory he was an upholder
of verbal inspiration, he did not push the doctrine to its extreme
consequences; his practical good sense did not take these things so
strictly as the theologians of later centuries. Sometimes, however,
he did suppress whole sections or verses, enjoining his followers to
efface or forget them, and declaring them to be "abrogated." A very
remarkable case is that of the two verses in liii., when he had
recognized three heathen goddesses as exalted beings, possessing
influence with God. This he had done in a moment of weakness, to win
his countrymen by a compromise which still left Allah in the highest
rank. He attained his purpose indeed, but was soon visited by remorse,
and declared the words in question to have been inspirations of the
Evil One.
So much for the abrogated readings; the case is somewhat different
when we come to the abrogation of laws and directions to the Muslims,
which often occurs in the Qur'an. There is nothing in this at variance
with Muhammad's idea of God. God is to him an absolute despot, who
declares a thing right or wrong from no inherent necessity, but by
His arbitrary fiat. This God varies His commands at pleasure, prescribes
one law for the Christians, another for the Jews and a third for the
Muslims; nay, He even changes His instructions to the Muslims when
it pleases Him. Thus, for example, the Qur'an contains very different
directions, suited to varying circumstances, as to the treatment which
idolaters are to receive at the hands of believers. But Muhammad showed
no anxiety to have these superseded enactments destroyed. Believers
could be in no uncertainty as to which of the two contradictory passages
remained on force; and they might still find edification in that which
had become obsolete. That later generations might not so easily distinguish
the "abrogated" from the "abrogating" did not occur to Muhammad, whose
vision, naturally enough, seldom extended to the future of his religious
community. Current events were invariably kept in view in the revelations.
In Medina it called for the admiration of the Faithful to observe how
often God gave them an answer to a question whose settlement was urgently
required at the moment. The same naiveté appears in the remark of the
Caliph Uthman about a doubtful case: "If the Apostle of God were still
alive, methinks there had been a Qur'an passage revealed on this point."
Not infrequently the divine word was found to coincide with the advice
which Muhammad had received from his most intimate disciples. "Umar was
many a time of a certain opinion," says one tradition, "and the Qur'an
was then revealed accordingly."
The contents of the different parts of the Qur'an are extremely varied.
Many passages consist of theological or moral reflections. We are reminded
of the greatness, the goodness, the righteousness of God as manifested
in Nature, in history, and in revelation through the prophets, especially
through Muhammad. God is magnified as the One, the All-powerful. Idolatry
and all deification of created beings, such as the worship of Christ as
the Son of God, are unsparingly condemned. The joys of heaven and the
pains of hell are depicted in vivid sensuous imagery, as is also the
terror of the whole creation at the advent of last day and the judgment
of the world. Believers receive general moral instruction, as well as
directions for special circumstances. The lukewarm are rebuked, the
enemies threatened with terrible punishment, both temporal and eternal.
To the skeptical the truth of Islam is held forth; and a certain, not
very cogent, method of demonstration predominates. In many passages the
sacred book falls into a diffuse preaching-style, others seem more like
proclamations or general orders. A great number contain ceremonial or
civil laws, or even special commands to individuals down to such matters
as the regulation of Muhammad's harem. In not a few, definite questions
are answered which had actually been propounded to the Prophet by believers
or infidels. Muhammad himself, too, repeatedly receives direct injunctions,
and does not escape an occasional rebuke. One sura (i.) is a prayer,
two (cxiii., cxiv.) are magical formulas. Many suras treat of a single
topic, others embrace several.
From the mass of material comprising the Qur'an - and the account
we have given is far from exhaustive - we should select the histories
of the ancient prophets and the saints as possessing a peculiar interest.
The purpose of Muhammad is to show from these histories how God in
former times had rewarded the righteous and punished their enemies.
For the most part the old prophets only serve to introduce a little
variety in point of form, for they are almost in every case facsimiles
of Muhammad himself. They preach exactly like him, they have to bring
the very same charges against their opponents, who on their part behave
exactly as the unbelieving inhabitants of Mecca. The Qur'an even goes
as far as to make Noah contend against the worship of certain false gods,
mentioned by name, who were worshipped by the Arabs of Muhammad's time.
In an address which is put in the mouth of Abraham (xxvi. 75 sqq.),
the reader quite forgets that it is Abraham, and not Muhammad (or God
Himself), who is speaking. Other narratives are intended rather for
amusement, although they are always well seasoned with edifying phrases.
It is no wonder that the godless Quraishites thought these stories of
the Qur'an not so interesting as those of Rostam and Ispandiar related
by Nadr the son of Harith, who, when travelling as a merchant, had
learned on the Euphrates the heroic mythology of the Persians. But the
Prophet was so exasperated by this rivalry that when Nadr fell into
his power after the battle of Badr, he caused him to be executed;
although in all other cases he readily pardoned his fellow countrymen.
These histories are chiefly about Scripture characters, especially
those of the Old Testament. But the deviations from the Biblical
narratives are very marked. Many of the alterations are found in the
legendary anecdotes of the Jewish Aggada and the New Testament Apocrypha;
but many more are due to misconceptions such as only a listener (not
the reader of a book) could fall into. The most ignorant Jew could
never have mistaken Haman (the minister of Ahasuerus) for the minister
of Pharaoh, or identified Miriam the sister of Moses with Mary (=Miriam)
the mother of Christ. In addition to such misconceptions there are sundry
capricious alterations, some of them very grotesque, due to Muhammad
himself. For instance, in his ignorance of everything outside Arabia,
he makes the fertility of Egypt - where rain is almost never seen and
never missed - depend on rain instead of the inundations of the Nile
(xii. 49). The strange tale of "the Horned" (i.e., Alexander the Great,
xviii. 82 sqq.) reflects, as has been lately discovered, a rather absurd
story, written by a Syrian in the beginning of the sixth century; we
may believe that the substance of it was related to the Prophet by some
Christian. Besides Jewish and Christian histories, there are a few about
old Arabian prophets. In these he seems to have handled his materials
even more freely than in others.
The opinion has already been expressed that Muhammad did not make
use of written sources. Coincidences and divergences alike can always
be accounted for by oral communications from the Jews who knew a little
and Christians who knew next to nothing. Even in the rare passages where
we can trace direct resemblances to the text of the Old Testament
(comp. xxi. 105 with Ps. xxxvii. 29; i. 5 with Ps. xxvii. 11) or the
New (comp. vii. 48 with Luke xvi. 24; xlvi. 19 with Luke xvi. 25),
there is nothing more than might readily have been picked up in
a conversation with any Jew or Christian. In Medina, where he had
the opportunity of becoming acquainted with Jews of some culture,
he learned some things out of the Mishna, e.g., v. 35 corresponds
almost word for word with Mishna Sanh. iv. 5; compare also ii. 183
with Mishna Ber. i. 2. That these are only cases of oral communication
will be admitted by anyone with the slightest knowledge of the
circumstances. Otherwise we might even conclude that Muhammad had
studied the Talmud; e.g., the regulation as to ablution by rubbing
with sand, where water cannot be obtained (iv. 46), corresponds to
a Talmudic ordinance (Ber. 15a). Of Christianity he can have been
able to learn very little even in Medina; as may be seen from the
absurd travesty of the institution of the Eucharist in v. 112 sqq.
For the rest, it is highly probable that before the Qur'an no real
literary production - anything that could be strictly called a book
- existed in the Arabic language.
In point of style and artistic effect, the different parts of
the Qur'an are of very unequal value. An unprejudiced and critical
reader will certainly find very few passages where his aesthetic
susceptibilities are thoroughly satisfied. But he will often be
struck, especially in the older pieces, by a wild force of passion,
and a vigorous, if not rich, imagination. Descriptions of heaven
and hell, and allusions to God's working in Nature, not infrequently
show a certain amount of poetic power. In other places also the
style is sometimes lively and impressive, though it is rare indeed
that we come across such strains of touching simplicity as in the
middle of xciii. The greater part of the Qur'an's message is
decidedly prosaic; and so indeed is its style. Of course, with such
a variety of material, we cannot expect every part to be equally
vivacious, or imaginative, or poetic. A decree about the right of
inheritance, or point of ritual, must necessarily be expressed in
prose, if it is to be intelligible. No one complains of the civil
laws in Exodus or the sacrificial ritual in Leviticus because they
want the fire of Isaiah or the tenderness of Deuteronomy. But
Muhammad's mistake consists in persistent and slavish adherence
to the semi-poetic form which he had at first adopted in accordance
with his own taste and that of his hearers. For instance, he employs
rhyme in dealing with the most prosaic subjects, and thus produces
the disagreeable effect of incongruity between style and matter.
It has to be considered, however, that many of those sermonizing
pieces which are so tedious to us, especially when we read two or
three in succession (perhaps in a very inadequate translation),
must have had a quite different effect when recited under the
burning sky and on the barren soil of Mecca. There, thoughts about
God's greatness and man's duty, which are familiar to us from
childhood, were all new to the hearers - it is hearers we have to
think of in the first instance, not readers - to whom, at the same
time, every allusion had a meaning which often escapes our notice.
When Muhammad spoke of the goodness of the Lord in creating the
clouds, and bringing them across the cheerless desert, and pouring
them out on the earth to restore its rich vegetation, that must
have been a picture of thrilling interest to the Arabs, who are
accustomed to see from three to five years elapse before a copious
shower comes to clothe the wilderness once more with luxuriant
pastures. It requires an effort for us, under our clouded skies,
to realize in some degree the intensity of that impression.
The fact that scraps of poetical phraseology are specially
numerous in the earlier suras, enables us to understand why the
prosaic mercantile community of Mecca regarded their eccentric
townsman as a "poet," or even a "possessed poet." Muhammad had
to disclaim such titles, because he felt himself to be a divinely-inspired
prophet; but we too, from our standpoint, shall fully acquit him
of poetic genius. Like many other predominantly religious characters,
he had no appreciation of poetic beauty; and if we may believe
one anecdote related of him, at a time when everyone made verses,
he affected ignorance of the most elementary prosody. Hence the
style of the Qur'an is not poetical but rhetorical; and the
powerful effect which some portions produce on us is gained by
rhetorical means. Accordingly the sacred book has not even the
artistic form of poetry; which, among the Arabs, includes a
stringent meter as well as rhyme. The Qur'an is never metrical,
and only a few exceptionally eloquent portions fall into a sort
of spontaneous rhythm. On the other hand, the rhyme is regularly
maintained; although, especially in the later pieces, after a
very slovenly fashion. Rhymed prose was a favorite form of
composition among the Arabs of that day, and Muhammad adopted it;
but if it imparts a certain sprightliness to some passages, it
proves on the whole a burdensome yoke. The Muslims themselves
have observed that the tyranny of the rhyme often makes itself
apparent in derangement of the order of words and in the choice
of verbal forms which would not otherwise have been employed,
e.g., an imperfect instead of a perfect. In one place, to save
the rhyme, he calls Mount Sinai Sinin (xcv. 2) instead of
Sina (xxiii. 20); in another Elijah is called Ilyasin
(xxxvii. 130) instead of Ilyas (vi. 85, xxxvii. 123). The
substance even is modified to suit the exigencies of rhyme. Thus
the Prophet would scarcely have fixed on the usual number of "eight"
angels round the throne of God (lxix. 17) if the word thamaniyah,
"eight" had not happened to fall in so well with the rhyme. And
when lv. speaks of "two" heavenly gardens, each with "two" fountains
and "two" kinds of fruit, and again of "two" similar gardens, all
this is simply because the dual termination (-an) corresponds
to the syllable that controls the rhyme in that whole sura. In the
later pieces, Muhammad often inserts edifying remarks, entirely
out of keeping with the context, merely to complete his rhyme. In
Arabic it is such an easy thing to accumulate masses of words with
the same termination, that the gross negligence of the rhyme in
the Qur'an is doubly remarkable. One may say that this is another
mark of the Prophet's want of mental training and incapacity for
introspective criticism.
On the whole, while many parts of the Qur'an undoubtedly have
considerable rhetorical power, even over an unbelieving reader,
the book, aesthetically considered, is by no means a first-rate
performance. To begin with what we are most competent to criticize,
let us look at some of the more extended narratives. It has already
been noticed how vehement and abrupt they are where they ought to
be characterized by epic repose. Indispensable links, both in
expression and in the sequence of events, are often omitted, so
that to understand these histories is sometimes far easier for us
than for those who learned them first, because we know most of them
from better sources. Along with this, there is a great deal of
superfluous verbiage; and nowhere do we find a steady advance in
the narration. Contrast, in these respects, "the most beautiful
tale," the history of Joseph (xii.), and its glaring improprieties,
with the story in Genesis, so admirably executed in spite of some
slight discrepancies. Similar faults are found in the non-narrative
portions of the Qur'an. The connection of ideas is extremely loose,
and even the syntax betrays great awkwardness. Anancloutha are of
frequent occurrence, and cannot be explained as conscious literary
devices. Many sentences begin with a "when" or "on the day when,"
which seem to hover in the air, so that the commentators are driven
to supply a "think of this" or some ellipsis. Again, there is no
great literary skill evinced in the frequent and needless harping
on the same words and phrases; in xviii., for example, "till that"
(hatta idha) occurs no fewer than eight times. Muhammad,
in short, is not in any sense a master of style. This opinion will
be endorsed by any European who reads through the book with an
impartial spirit and some knowledge of the language, without taking
into account the tiresome effect of its endless iterations. But in
the ears of every pious Muslim such a judgment will sound almost as
shocking as downright atheism or polytheism. Among the Muslims,
the Qur'an has always been looked on as the most perfect model of
style and language. This feature of it is in their theology the
greatest of all miracles, the incontestable proof of its divine
origin. Such a view on the part of men who knew Arabic infinitely
better than the most accomplished European Arabist will ever do,
may well startle us. In fact, the Qur'an boldly challenged its
opponents to produce ten suras, or even a single one, like those
of the sacred book, and they never did so. That, to be sure, on
calm reflection, is not so very surprising. Revelations of the kind
which Muhammad uttered, no unbeliever could produce without making
himself a laughing-stock. However little real originality there is
in Muhammad's doctrines, as against his own countrymen he was
thoroughly original, even in the form of his oracles. To compose
such revelations at will was beyond the power of the most expert
literary artist; it would have required either a prophet or
a shameless impostor. And if such a character appeared after Muhammad,
still he could never be anything but an imitator, like the false
prophets who arose about the time of his death and afterwards. That
the adversaries should produce any sample whatsoever of poetry or
rhetoric equal to the Qur'an is not at all what the Prophet demands.
In that case he would have been put to shame, even in the eyes of
many of his own followers, by the first poem that came to hand.
Nevertheless, it is on such a false interpretation of this challenge
that the dogma of the incomparable excellence of the style and diction
of the Qur'an is based. The rest has been accomplished by dogmatic
prejudice, which is quite capable of working other miracles besides
turning a defective literary production into an unrivaled masterpiece
in the eyes of believers. This view once accepted, the next step was
to find everywhere the evidence of the perfection of the style and
language. And if here and there, as one can scarcely doubt, there
was among the old Muslims a lover of poetry who had his difficulties
about this dogma, he had to beware of uttering an opinion which might
have cost him his head. We know of at least one rationalistic theologian
who defined the dogma in such a way that we can see he did not believe
in it (Shahrastani, p. 39). The truth is, it would have been a miracle
indeed if the style of the Qur'an had been perfect. For although there
was at that time a recognized poetical style, already degenerating to
mannerism, a prose style did not exist. All beginnings are difficult;
and it can never be esteemed a serious charge against Muhammad that
his book, the first prose work of a high order in the language, testifies
to the awkwardness of the beginner. And further, we must always remember
that entertainment and aesthetic effect were at most subsidiary objects.
The great aim was persuasion and conversion; and, say what we will,
that aim has been realized on the most imposing scale.
Muhammad repeatedly calls attention to the fact that the Qur'an is
not written, like other sacred books, in a strange language, but in
Arabic, and therefore is intelligible to all. At that time, along with
foreign ideas, many foreign words had crept into the language, especially
Aramaic terms for religious conceptions of Jewish and Christian origin.
Some of these had already passed into general use, while others were
confined to a more limited circle. Muhammad, who could not fully express
his new ideas in the common language of his countrymen, but had frequently
to find out new terms for himself, made free use of such Jewish and
Christian words, as was done, though perhaps to a smaller extent, by
certain thinkers and poets of that age who had more or less risen above
the level of heathenism. In Muhammad's case this is the less wonderful,
because he was indebted to the instruction of Jews and Christians whose
Arabic - as the Qur'an pretty clearly intimates with regard to one of
them - was very defective. Nor is it very surprising to find that his
use of such words is sometimes as much at fault as his comprehension
of the histories which he learned from the same people - that he applies
Aramaic expressions as incorrectly as many uneducated persons now employ
words derived from the French. Thus, furqan means really "redemption,"
but Muhammad (misled by the Arabic meaning of the root frq, "sever,
decide") uses it for "revelation." Milla is properly "word," but
in the Qur'an "religion." Illiyun (lxxxiii. 18,19.) is apparently
the Hebrew name of God, Elyon, "the Most High"; Muhammad uses it
of a heavenly book (see S. Fraenkel, De vocabulisin antiquis Arabum
carminibus et in Corano peregrinis, Leyden 1880, p. 23.). So again
the word mathani is, as Geiger has conjectured, the regular Arabic
plural of the Aramaic mathnitha, which is the same as the Hebrew
Mishna, and denotes, in Jewish usage, a legal decision of some of
the ancient Rabbins. But in the Qur'an "the seven Mathani" (xv. 87) are
probably the seven verses of sura i., so that Muhammad appears to have
understood it in the sense of "saying" or "sentence" (comp. xxxix. 24).
Words of Christian origin are less frequent in the Qur'an. It is an
interesting fact that of these a few have come over from the Abyssinian,
such as hawariyun, "apostles"; maida, "table," and two or
three others; these all make their first appearance in the suras of the
Medinan period. The word shaitan, which was borrowed, at least
in the first instance, from the Abyssinian, had probably been already
introduced into the language. Sprenger has rightly observed that
Muhammad makes a certain parade of these foreign words, as of other
peculiarly constructed expressions; in this he followed a favorite
practice of contemporary poets. It is the tendency of the imperfectly
educated to delight in out-of-the-way expressions, and on such minds
they readily produce a remarkably solemn and mysterious impression.
This was exactly the kind of effect that Muhammad desired, and to
secure it he seems even to have invented a few odd vocables, as
ghislin (lxix. 36), sijjin (lxxxiii. 7,8), tasnim
(lxxxiii. 27), and salsabil (lxxvi. 18). But, of course, the
necessity of enabling his hearers to understand the ideas which they
must have found sufficiently novel in themselves, imposed tolerably
narrow limits on such eccentricities.
The constituents of our present Qur'an belong partly to the Mecca
period (before A.D. 622), partly to the period commencing with the
emigration to Medina (from the autumn of 622 to 8th June 632).
Muhammad's position in Medina was entirely different from that which
he had occupied in his native town. In the former he was from the
first the leader of a powerful party, and gradually became the
autocratic ruler of Arabia; in the latter he was only the despised
preacher of a small congregation. This difference, as was to be
expected, appears in the Qur'an. The Medina pieces, whether entire
suras or isolated passages interpolated in Meccan suras, are accordingly
pretty broadly distinct as to their contents, from those issued in
Mecca. In the great majority of cases there can be no doubt whatever
whether a piece first saw the light in Mecca or Medina; and, for the
most part, the internal evidence is borne out by Muslim tradition.
And since the revelations given in Medina frequently take notice of
events about which we have pretty accurate information, and whose
dates are at least approximately known, we are often in a position
to fix their date with, at any rate, considerable certainty; here again,
tradition renders valuable assistance. Even with regard to the Medina
passages, however, a great deal remains uncertain, partly because
the allusions to historical events and circumstances are general
rather than particular, partly because traditions about the occasion
of the revelation of the various pieces are often fluctuating, and
often rest on misunderstanding or arbitrary conjecture. But, at all
events, it is far easier to arrange in some sort of chronological
order the Medina suras than those composed in Mecca. There is, indeed,
one tradition which professes to furnish a chronological list of all
the suras. But not to mention that it occurs in several divergent
forms, and that it takes no account of the fact that our present
suras are partly composed of pieces of different dates, it contains
so many suspicious or undoubtedly false statements that it is
impossible to attach any great importance to it. Besides, it is
a priori unlikely that a contemporary of Muhammad should
have drawn up such a list; and if any one had made the attempt, he
would have found it almost impossible to obtain reliable information
as to the order of the earlier Meccan suras. We have in this list
no genuine tradition, but rather the lucubrations of an undoubtedly
conscientious Muslim critic, who may have lived about a century
after the emigration.
Among the revelations put forth in Mecca there is a considerable
number of (for the most part) short suras, which strike at every
attentive reader as being the oldest. They are in an altogether
different strain from many others, and in their whole composition
they show the least resemblance to the Medina pieces. It is no doubt
conceivable - as Sprenger supposes - that Muhammad might have might
have returned at intervals to his earlier manner; but since this
group possesses a remarkable similarity of style, and since the
gradual formation of a different style is on the whole an unmistakable
fact, the assumption has little probability; and we shall therefore
abide by the opinion that these form a distinct group. At the opposite
extreme from them stands another cluster, showing quite obvious
affinities with the style of the Medina suras, which must therefore
be assigned to the later part of the Prophet's work in Mecca. Between
these two groups stand a number of other Meccan suras, which in every
respect mark the transition from the first period to the third. It
need hardly be said that the three periods - which were first
distinguished by Professor Weil - are not separated by sharp lines
of division. With regard to some suras, it may be doubtful whether
they ought to be reckoned amongst the middle group, or with one or
the other of the extremes. And it is altogether impossible, within
these two groups, to establish even a probable chronological arrangement
of the individual revelations. In default of clear allusions to well-known
events, or events whose dates can be determined, we might indeed endeavor
to trace the psychological development of the Prophet by means of the
Qur'an, and arrange its parts accordingly. But in such an undertaking
one is always apt to take subjective assumptions or mere fancies for
established data. Good traditions about the origin of the Meccan
revelations are not very numerous. In fact, the whole history of
Muhammad previous to his emigration is so imperfectly related that
we are not even sure in what year he appeared as a prophet. Probably
it was in A.D. 610; it may have been somewhat earlier, but scarcely
later. If, as one tradition says, xxx. 1 sqq. ("The Romans are
overcome in the nearest neighboring land") refers to the defeat of
the Byzantines by the Persians not far from Damascus, about the
spring of 614, it would follow that the third group, to which this
passage belongs, covers the greater part of the Meccan period. And
it is not in itself unlikely that the passionate vehemence which
characterizes the first group was of short duration. Nor is the
assumption contradicted by the tolerably well-attested, though far
from incontestable statement, that when Umar was converted (A.D. 615
or 616) xx., which belongs to the second group, already existed in
writing. But the reference of xxx. 1 sqq. to this particular battle
is by no means so certain that positive conclusions can be drawn
from it. It is the same with other allusions in the Meccan suras
to occurrences whose chronology can be partially ascertained.
It is better, therefore, to rest satisfied with a merely relative
determination of the order of even the three great clusters of
Meccan revelations.
In the pieces of the first period the convulsive excitement of
the Prophet often expresses itself with the utmost vehemence. He
is so carried away by his emotions that he cannot choose his words;
they seem rather to burst from him. Many of these pieces remind us
of the oracles of the old heathen soothsayers, whose style is known
to us from imitations, although we have perhaps not a single genuine
specimen. Like those other oracles, the suras of this period, which
are never very long, are composed of short sentences with tolerably
pure but rapidly changing rhymes. The oaths, too, with which many of
them begin, were largely used by the soothsayers. Some of these oaths
are very uncouth and hard to understand, some of them perhaps were not
meant to be understood for indeed all sorts of strange things are met
within these chapters. Here and there Muhammad speaks of visions,
and appears even to see angels before him in bodily form. There are
some intensely vivid descriptions of the resurrection and the last day,
which must have exercised a demonic power over men who were quite
unfamiliar with such pictures. Other pieces paint in glowing colors
the joys of heaven and the pains of hell. However, the suras of this
period are not all so wild as these; and those which are conceived in
a calmer mood appear to be the oldest. Yet, one must repeat, it is
exceedingly difficult to make out any strict chronological sequence.
For instance, it is by no means certain whether the beginning of xcvi.
is really what a widely circulated tradition calls it, the oldest part
of the whole Qur'an. That tradition goes back to the Prophet's favorite
wife Aisha; but as she was not (yet) born at the time when the revelation
is said to have been made, it can only contain at the best what Muhammad
told her years afterwards, from his own not very clear recollection,
with or without fictitious additions. Aisha, moreover, is by no means
very trustworthy and, besides, there are other pieces mentioned by
others as the oldest. In any case xcvi. 1 sqq. is certainly very early.
According to the traditional view, which appears to be correct, it
treats a vision in which the Prophet receives an injunction to recite
a revelation conveyed to him by the angel. It is interesting to observe
that here already two things are brought forward as proofs of the
omnipotence and care of God; one is the creation of man out of a seminal
drop - an idea to which Muhammad often recurs; the other is the then
recently introduced art of writing, which the Prophet instinctively
seizes on as a means of propagating his doctrines. It was only after
Muhammad encountered obstinate resistance that the tone of the revelation
became thoroughly passionate. In such cases he was not slow to utter
terrible threats against those who ridiculed the preaching of the unity
of God, of the resurrection and of the judgment. His own uncle, Abu Lahab,
had somewhat brusquely repelled him, and in a brief special sura (cxi.)
he and his wife are consigned to hell. The suras of this period form
almost exclusively the concluding portions of the present text. One is
disposed to assume, however, that they were at one time more numerous,
and that many of them were lost at an early period.
Since Muhammad's strength lay in his enthusiastic and fiery imagination
rather than in the wealth of ideas and clearness of abstract thought
on which exact reasoning depends, it follows that the older suras, in
which the former qualities have free scope, must be more attractive to
us than the later. In the suras of the second period the imaginative
glow perceptibly diminishes; their is still fire and animation, but the
tone becomes gradually more prosaic. As the feverish restlessness subsides,
the periods are drawn out, and the revelations as a whole become longer.
The truth of the new doctrine is proved by accumulated instances of God's
working in nature and history; the objections of opponents, whether
advanced in good faith or in jest, are controverted by arguments; but
the demonstration is often confused or even weak. The histories of the
earlier prophets, which had occasionally been briefly touched on in the
first period, are now related sometimes at great length.
There is one piece of the Qur'an belonging to the beginning of this
period, if not to the close of the former, which claims particular notice.
This is i., the "Lord's Prayer" of the Muslims, and beyond dispute the
gem of the Qur'an. The words of this sura, which is known as al-fatiha
("the opening one"), are as follows:
1) In the name of God, the compassionate Compassioner. 2) Praise be
(literally "is") to God, the Lord of the worlds, 3) the compassionate
Compassioner, 4) The Sovereign of the day of judgment. 5) Thee do we
worship, and of Thee do we beg assistance. 6) Direct us in the right
way; 7) in the way of those to whom Thou hast been gracious, on whom
there is no wrath, and who go not astray.
The thoughts are so simple as to need no explanation; and yet the prayer
is full of meaning. It is true that there is not a single original idea
of Muhammad's in it. Several words and turns of expression are borrowed
directly from the Jews, in particular the designation of God as the
"Compassioner," Rahman. This is simply the Jewish Rahmana,
which was a favorite name for God in the Talmudic period. Muhammad seems
for a while to have entertained the thought of adopting al-Rahman
as a proper name of God, in place of Allah, which was already used by the
heathens.1 This purpose he ultimately relinquished, but it is
just in the suras of the second period that the use of Rahman is specially
frequent. It was probably in the first sura also that Muhammad first
introduced the formula, "In the name of God," etc. It is to be regretted
that this prayer must lose its effect through too frequent use, for every
Muslim who says his five prayers regularly - as most of them do - repeats
it no less than twenty times a day.
The suras of the third Meccan period, which form a pretty large part
of our present Qur'an, are almost entirely prosaic. Some of the revelations
are of considerable extent, and the single verses also are much longer
than in the older suras. Only now and then a gleam of poetic power flashes
out. A sermonizing tone predominates. The suras are very edifying for one
who is already reconciled to their import, but to us at least, they do
not seem very well fitted to carry conviction to minds of unbelievers.
That impression, however, is not correct, for in reality the demonstration
of these longer Meccan suras appeared to have been peculiarly influential
for the propagation of Islam. Muhammad's mission was not to Europeans, but
to a people who, though quick-witted and receptive, were not accustomed
to logical thinking, while they had outgrown their ancient religion.
When we reach the Medina period it becomes, as has been indicated,
much easier to understand the revelation in their historical relations,
since our knowledge of the history of Muhammad in Medina is tolerably
complete. In many cases the historical occasion is perfectly clear,
in others we can at least recognize the general situation from which
they arose, and thus approximately fix their time. There remains,
however, a remnant, of which we can only say it belongs to Medina.
The style of this period bears a pretty close resemblance to that
of the latest Meccan period. It is for the most part pure prose, enriched
by occasional rhetorical embellishments. Yet even here there are many
bright and impressive passages, especially in those sections which may
be regarded as proclamations to the army of the faithful. For the Muslims,
Muhammad has different messages. At one time it is a summons to do battle
for the faith; at another, a series of reflections on recently experienced
success or misfortune, or a rebuke of their weak faith; or an exhortation
to virtue, and so on. He often addresses himself to the "doubters," some
of whom vacillate between faith and unbelief, others make a pretense of
faith, while others scarcely take the trouble to do even that. They are
no consolidated party, but to Muhammad they are all equally vexatious,
because, as soon as danger has to be encountered, or a contribution is
levied, they all alike fall away. There are frequent outbursts, ever
increasing in bitterness against the Jews, who were very numerous in
Medina and its neighborhood when Muhammad arrived. He has much less to
say against the Christians, with whom he never came closely in contact;
and as for the idolaters, there was little occasion in Medina to have
many words with them. A part of the Medina pieces consists of formal
laws belonging to the ceremonial, civil and criminal codes; or directions
about temporary complications. The most objectionable parts of the whole
Qur'an are those which treat of Muhammad's relations with women. The laws
and regulations were generally very concise revelations, but most of them
have been amalgamated with other pieces of similar or dissimilar import,
and are now found in very long suras.
Such is an imperfect sketch of the composition and internal history
of the Qur'an, but it is probably sufficient to show that the book is
a very heterogeneous collection. If only those passages had been
preserved which had a permanent value for the theology, the ethics or
the jurisprudence of the Muslims, a few fragments would have been amply
sufficient. Fortunately for knowledge, respect for the sacredness of
the letter has led to the collection of all the revelations that could
possibly be collected, the "abrogating" along with the "abrogated,"
passages referring to passing circumstances as well as those of lasting
importance. Everyone who takes up the book in the proper religious frame
of mind, like most of the Muslims, reads pieces directed against long
obsolete absurd customs of Mecca just as devoutly as the weightiest
moral precepts - perhaps even more devoutly, because he does not
understand them so well.
At the head of twenty-nine of the suras stand certain initial letters,
from which no clear sense can be obtained. Thus, before ii., iii., xxxi.,
xxxii. we find ALM (Alif Lam Mim), before xl.-xlvi. HM (Ha Mim). At one
time I suggested that these initials did not belong to Muhammad's text,
but might be the monograms of possessors of codices, which, through
negligence on the part of the editors, were incorporated in the final
form of the Qur'an; but now I deem it more probable that they are to be
traced to the Prophet himself, as Sprenger and Loth suppose. One cannot
indeed admit the truth of Loth's statement, that in the proper opening
words of these suras we may generally find an allusion to the accompanying
initials; but it can scarcely be accidental that the first words of the
great majority of them (in iii. it is the second verse) contains the word
"book," "revelation," or some equivalent. They usually begin with: "This
is the book," or "Revelation (`down sending') of the book," or something
similar. Of suras which commence in this way only a few (xviii., xxiv.,
xxv., xxxix.) lack the initials, while only xxix. and xxx. have the
initials and begin differently. These few exceptions may easily have
proceeded from ancient corruptions; at all events they cannot neutralize
the evidence of the greater number. Muhammad seems to have meant these
letters for mystic reference to the archetype text in heaven. To a man
who regarded the art of writing, of which at the best he had but a slight
knowledge, as something supernatural, and who lived amongst illiterate
people, an A B C may well have seemed more significant than to us who
have been initiated into the mysteries of this art from our childhood.
The Prophet himself can hardly have attached any particular meaning to
these symbols; they served their purpose if they conveyed an impression
of solemnity and enigmatical obscurity. In fact, the Qur'an admits that
it contains many things which neither can be, nor were intended to be,
understood (iii. 5). To regard these letters as ciphers is a precarious
hypothesis, for the simple reason that cryptography is not to be looked
for in the very infancy of Arabic writing. If they are actually ciphers,
the multiplicity of possible explanations at once precludes the hope of
a plausible interpretation. None of the efforts in this direction, whether
by Muslim scholars or by Europeans, have led to convincing results. This
remark applies even to the ingenious conjecture of Sprenger that the
letters KHY'S (Kaf He Ye Ain Sad) before xix. (which treats of John and
Jesus, and, according to tradition, was sent to the king of Abyssinia)
stand for "Jesus Nazarenus Rex Judaeorum." Sprenger arrives at this
explanation by a very artificial method; and besides Muhammad was not as
simple as the traditionalists, who imagined that the Abyssinians could
read a piece of the Arabic Qur'an. It need hardly be said that the
Muslims have from old applied themselves with great assiduity to the
decipherment of these initials, and have sometimes found the deepest
mysteries in them. Generally, however, they are content with the
prudent conclusion that God alone knows the meaning of these letters.
When Muhammad died, the separate pieces of the Qur'an, notwithstanding
their theoretical sacredness, existed only in scattered copies; they were
consequently in great danger to being partially or entirely destroyed.
Many Muslims knew large portions by heart, but certainly no one knew the
whole; and a merely oral propagation would have left the door open to
all kinds of deliberate and inadvertent alterations. Muhammad himself
had never thought of an authentic collection of his revelations; he was
usually concerned only with the object of the moment and the idea that
the revelations would be destroyed unless he made provision for their
safe preservation, did not enter his mind. A man destitute of literary
culture has some difficulty in anticipating the fate of intellectual
products. But now, after the death of the Prophet, most of the Arabs
revolted against his successor, and had to be reduced to submission by
force. Especially sanguinary was the contest against the prophet Maslama,
an imitator of Muhammad commonly known by the derisive diminutive Musailima
(i.e., "Little Maslama"). At that time (A.D. 633) many of the most devoted
Muslims fell, the very men who knew most Qur'an pieces by heart. Umar then
began to fear that the Qur'an might be entirely forgotten, and he induced
the Caliph Abu Bakr to undertake the collection of all its parts. The Caliph
laid the duty on Zaid, the son of Thabit, a native of Medina, then about
twenty-two years of age, who had often acted as amanuensis to the Prophet,
in whose service he is even said to have learned the Jewish letters. The
account of this collection of the Qur'an has reached us in several
substantially identical forms, and goes back to Zaid himself. According
to it, he collected the revelations from copies written on flat stones,
pieces of leather, ribs of palm-leaves (not palm-leaves themselves), and
such like material, but chiefly "from the breasts of men," i.e., from
their memory. From these he wrote a fair copy, which he gave to Abu Bakr,
from whom it came to his successor Umar, who again bequeathed it to his
daughter Hafsa, one of the widows of the Prophet. This redaction, commonly
called al-suhuf ("the leaves"), had from the first no canonical
authority; and its integral arrangement can only be conjectured.
The Muslims were as far as ever from possessing a uniform text of
the Qur'an. The bravest of their warriors sometimes knew deplorably
little about it; distinction on that field they cheerfully
accorded to pious men like Ibn Mas'ud. It was inevitable, however,
that discrepancies should emerge between the texts of professed scholars,
and as these men in their several localities were authorities on the
reading of the Qur'an, quarrels began to break out between the levies
from different districts about the true form of the sacred book. During
a campaign in A.H. 30 (A.D. 650-1), Hudaifa, the victor in the great
and decisive battle of Nehawand - which was to the empire of the Sasanians
what Gaugamela was to that of the Achaemenidae - perceived that such
disputes might become dangerous, and therefore urged on the Caliph Uthman
the necessity for a universally binding text. The matter was entrusted
to Zaid, who had made the former collection, with three leading Quraishites.
These brought together as many copies as they could lay their hands on,
and prepared an edition which was to be canonical for all Muslims. To
prevent any further disputes, they burned all the other codices except
that of Hafsa, which, however, was afterwards destroyed by Marwan, the
governor of Medina. The destruction of the earlier codices was an
irreparable loss to criticism; but, for the essentially political object
of putting an end to the controversies by admitting only one form of
the common book of religion and of law, this measure was necessary.
The result of these labors is in our hands; as to how they were
conducted we have no trustworthy information, tradition being here
too much under the influence of dogmatic presuppositions. The critical
methods of a modern scientific commission will not be expected of an
age when the highest literary education for an Arab consisted in (the)
ability to read and write. It now seems to me highly probable that
this second redaction took this simple form: Zaid read off from the
codex which he had previously written, and his associates, simultaneously
or successively, wrote one copy each to his dictation. These, I suppose,
were the three copies which, we are informed, were sent to the capitals
Damascus, Basra and Kufa, to be in the first instance standards for the
soldiers of the respective provinces. A fourth copy would doubtless be
retained at Medina. Be that as it may, it is impossible now to distinguish
in the present form of the book what belongs to the first redaction from
what is due to the second.
In the arrangement of the separate sections, a classification according
to contents was impractical because of the variety of subjects often dealt
with in one sura. A chronological arrangement was out of the question,
because the chronology of the older pieces must have been imperfectly
known, and because in some cases passages of different dates had been
joined together. Indeed, systematic principles of this kind were altogether
disregarded at that period. The pieces were accordingly arranged in
indiscriminate order, the only rule observed being to place the long
suras first and the shorter towards the end, and even that was far from
strictly adhered to. The short opening sura is so placed on account of
its superiority to the rest, and two magical formulae are kept for sort
of protection at the end; these are the only special traces of design.
The combination of pieces of different origin may proceed partly from
the processes of the codices from which Zaid compiled his first complete
copy, partly from Zaid himself. The individual suras are separated simply
by the superscription "In the name of God, the compassionate Compassioner,"
which is wanting only in the ninth. The additional headings found in our
text (the name of the suras, the number of verses, etc.) were not in the
original codices, and formed no integral part of the Qur'an.
It is said that Uthman directed Zaid and his associates, in cases of
disagreement, to follow the Quraish dialect; but, though well attested,
this account can scarcely be correct. The extremely primitive writing of
those days was quite incapable of rendering such minute differences as
can have existed between the pronunciation of Mecca and that of Medina.
Uthman's Qur'an was not complete. Some passages are evidently fragmentary;
and a few detached pieces are still extant which were originally parts of
the Qur'an, although they have been omitted by Zaid. Amongst these are
some which there is no reason to suppose Muhammad desired to suppress.
Zaid may easily have overlooked a few stray fragments, but that he purposely
omitted anything which he believed to belong to the Qur'an is very unlikely.
It has been conjectured that in deference to his superiors he kept out of
the book the names of Muhammad's enemies, if they or their families came
afterwards to be respected. But it must be remembered that it was never
Muhammad's practice to refer explicitly to contemporary persons and affairs
in the Qur'an. Only a single friend, his adopted son Zaid (xxxiii. 37),
and a single enemy, his uncle Abu Lahab (cxi.) - and these for very special
reasons - are mentioned by name; and the name of the latter has been left
in the Qur'an with a fearful curse annexed to it, although his son had
embraced Islam before the death of Muhammad, and although his descendants
belonged to the high nobility. So, on the other hand, there is no single
verse or clause which can be plausibly made out to be an interpolation
by Zaid at the instance of Abu Bakr, Umar or Uthman. Slight clerical errors
there may have been, but the Qur'an of Uthman's contains none but genuine
elements - though sometimes in very strange order.
It can still be pretty clearly shown in detail that the four codices
of Uthman's Qur'an deviated from one another in points of orthography,
in the insertion or omission of a wa ("and"), and such like
minutiae; but these variations nowhere affect the sense. All later
manuscripts are derived from these four originals.
At the same time, the other forms of the Qur'an did not at once
become extinct. In particular we have some information about the codex
of Ubai. If the list which gives the order of its suras is correct,
it must have contained substantially the same materials as our text;
in that case Ubai must have used the original collection of Zaid.
The same is true of the codex of Ibn Mas'ud, of which we also have
a catalogue. It appears that the principle of putting the longer suras
before the shorter was more consistently carried out by him than by
Zaid. He omits i. and the magical formulae of cxiii. and cxiv. Ubai,
on the other hand, had embodied two additional short prayers, whose
authenticity I do not now venture to question, as I formerly did.
One can easily understand that differences of opinion have existed
as to whether and how far formularies of this kind belonged to the
Qur'an. Some of the divergent readings of both these texts have been
preserved, as well as a considerable number of other ancient variants.
Most of them are decidedly inferior to the received readings, but
some are quite as good, and a few deserve preference.
The only man who appears to have seriously opposed the general
introduction of Uthman's text is Ibn Mas'ud. He was one of the oldest
disciples of the Prophet, and had often rendered him personal service;
but he was a man of contracted views although he is one of the pillars
of Muslim theology. His opposition had no effect. Now when we consider
that at that time there were many Muslims who had heard the Qur'an
from the mouth of the Prophet, that other measures of the imbecile
Uthman met with the most vehement resistance on the part of the bigoted
champions of the faith, that these were still further incited against
him by some of his ambitious old comrades, until at last they murdered
him, and finally that in the civil wars after his death the several
parties were glad of any pretext for branding their opponents as infidels -
when we consider all this, we must regard it as a strong testimony in
favor of Uthman's Qur'an that no party - that of Ali not excepted -
repudiated the text formed by Zaid, who was one of the most devoted
adherents of Uthman and his family, and that even among the Shiites
we detect but very few marks of dissatisfaction with the Caliph's
conduct in this matter.
But this redaction is not the close of the textual history of the
Qur'an. The ancient Arabic alphabet was very imperfect; it not only
lacked marks for the short, and in part even for the long vowels, but
it often expressed several consonants by the same sign, the forms of
the different letters, formerly clearly distinct, having become by
degrees identical. So, for example, there was but one character to
express B,T,Th and in the beginning and in the middle of words N and
Y(I) also. Though the reader who was perfectly familiar with the
language felt no difficulty, as a rule, in discovering which
pronunciation the writer had in view, yet as there were many words
which admitted of being pronounced in very different manners, instances
were not infrequent in which the pronunciation was dubious. This variety
of possible readings was at first very great, and many readers seem to
have actually made it their object to discover pronunciations which
were new, provided they were at all appropriate to the ambiguous text.
There was also a dialectic license in grammatical forms, which had not
as yet been greatly restricted. An effort was made by many to establish
a more refined pronunciation for the Qur'an than was usual in common
life or in secular literature. The various schools of "readers" differed
widely from one another; although for the most part there was no important
divergence as to the sense of words. A few of them gradually rose to special
authority, and the rest disappeared. Seven readers are generally reckoned
chief authorities, but for practical purposes this number was continually
reduced in process of time; so that at present only two "reading styles"
are actually in use - the common style of the Hafs and that of Nafi,
which prevails in Africa to the west of Egypt. There is, however, a very
comprehensive masoretic literature in which a number of other styles are
indicated. The invention of vowel sounds, of diacritic points to distinguish
similarly formed consonants, and of other orthographic signs, soon put
a stop to arbitrary conjectures on the part of the readers. Many zealots
objected to the introduction of these innovations in the sacred text,
but theological consistency had to yield to practical necessity. In accurate
codices, indeed, all such additions, as well as the titles of the suras,
etc., were written in colored ink, while the black characters profess to
represent exactly the original of Uthman. But there is probably no copy
quite faithful in this respect.
The correct recitation of the Qur'an is an art difficult of acquisition
to the Arabs themselves. Besides the artificial pronunciation mentioned
above, a semi-musical modulation has to be observed. In these things also
there are great differences between the various schools.
In European libraries, besides innumerable modern manuscripts of the
Qur'an, there are also codices or fragments of high antiquity, some of
them probably dating from the first century of the Flight. For the
restoration of the text, however, the works of ancient scholars on
its reading and modes of writing are more important than manuscripts,
which, however elegantly they may be written and ornamented, proceed
from irresponsible copyists. The original, written by Uthman himself,
has indeed been exhibited in various parts of the Muhammadan
world. The library of the India Office contains one such manuscript,
bearing the subscription: "Written by Uthman the son of Affan." These,
of course, are barefaced forgeries, although of very ancient date; so
are those which profess to be from the hand of Ali, one of which is
preserved in the same library. In recent times the Qur'an has been
often printed and lithographed both in the East and West.
Shortly after Muhammad's death certain individuals applied themselves
to the exposition of the Qur'an. Much of it was obscure from the beginning;
other sections were unintelligible apart from a knowledge of the
circumstances of their origin. Unfortunately those who took possession
of this field are not very honorable. Ibn Abbas, a cousin of Muhammad's,
and the chief source of the traditional exegesis of the Qur'an, has, on
theological and other grounds, given currency to a number of falsehoods;
and at least some of his pupils have emulated his example. These earliest
expositions dealt more with the sense and connection of the whole verses
than with the separate words. Afterwards, as the knowledge of the old
language declined, and the study of philology arose, more attention began
to be paid to the explanation of vocables. A good many fragments of this
older theological and philological exegesis have survived from the first
two centuries of the Flight, although we have no complete commentary of
this period. Most of the expository material will perhaps be found in the
very large commentary of the celebrated Tabari (A.D. 839-923), of which
an almost complete copy is in the Viceregal library at Cairo. Another
very famous commentary is that of Zamakhshari (A.D. 1075-1144), edited
by Nassau-Lee, Calcutta 1859; but this scholar, with his great insight
and still greater subtlety, is too apt to read his own scholastic ideas
into the Qur'an. The favorite commentary of Baidawi (died A.D. 1286) is
little more than an abridgement of Zamakhshari's. Thousands of commentaries
on the Qur'an, some of them of prodigious size,2 have been
written by Muslims; and even the number of those extant in manuscripts
is by no means small. Although these works contain much that is useless
or false, yet they are invaluable aids to our understanding of the
sacred book. An unbiased European can no doubt see many things at a glance
more clearly than a good Muslim who is under the influence of religious
prejudice; but we should still be helpless without the exegetical literature
of the Muhammadans.
Even the Arab Muslim of the present day can have but a very dim and
imperfect understanding of the Qur'an, unless he has made a special study
of its exegesis. For the great advantage, boasted by the holy book itself,
of being perspicuous to everyone, has in the course of thirteen centuries
vanished. Moreover, the general belief is that, in the ritual use of the
Qur'an, if the correct recitation is observed, it is immaterial whether
the meaning of the words be understood or not.
A great deal remains to be accomplished by European scholarship for
the correct interpretation of the Qur'an. We lack, for example, an exhaustive
classification and discussion of all the Jewish elements in the Qur'an;
a praiseworthy beginning has already been made in Geiger's youthful essay,
"Was hat Mohammed aus dem Judenthume aufgenommen?" We lack especially
a thorough commentary, executed with the methods and resources of modern
science. No European language, it would seem, can even boast of
a translation which completely satisfies modern requirements. The best
are in English, where we have the extremely paraphrastic, but for its
time admirable, translation of Sale (repeatedly printed), that of Rodwell
(1861), which seeks to give the pieces in chronological order and that
of Palmer (1880), who wisely follows the traditional arrangements.
The introduction which accompanies Palmer's translation is not in all
respects abreast of the most recent scholarship. Considerable extracts
from the Qur'an are well translated in E.W. Lane's Selections from
the Kur-an.
Besides the commentaries on the whole Qur'an, or on special parts
and topics, the Muslims possess a whole literature bearing on their
sacred book. There are works on the spelling and right pronunciation
of the Qur'an, works on the beauty of its language, on the number of
its verses, words and letters, etc.; nay, there are even works which
would nowadays be called "historical and critical introductions."
Moreover, the origin of Arabic philology is intimately connected with
the recitation and exegesis of the Qur'an. To exhibit the importance
of the sacred book for the whole mental life of the Muslims, would be
simply to write the history of that life itself; for there is no
department in which its all-pervading, but unfortunately not always
salutary, influence has not been felt.
The unbounded reverence of the Muslims for the Qur'an reaches its
climax in the dogma (which appeared at an early date through the
influence of the Christian doctrine of the eternal Word of God) that
this book, as the divine Word, i.e., thought, is immanent in God, and
consequently "eternal" and "uncreated." That dogma has been accepted
by almost all Muhammadans since the beginning of the third century.
Some theologians did indeed protest against it with great energy;
it was, in fact, too preposterous to declare that a book composed of
unstable words and letters, and full of variants, was absolutely divine.
But what were the distinctions and sophisms of the theologians for,
if they could not remove such contradictions, and convict their
opponents of heresy?
The following works may be specially consulted: Weil, Einleitung
in den Koran, 2nd. ed., 1878; Th. Nöldeke, Geschichte des Qorans,
Göttingen, 1860; and the Lives of Muhammad by Muir and Sprenger.
Notes:
1. Since in Arabic also the root rhm signifies `to have pity,'
the Arabs must have at once perceived the force of the new name.
2. See... the commentary of Khalaf,. He had a 100-volume commentary
of the Qur'an edited, the largest of many books of this sort, of which
we have knowledge.
Reference:
Nöldeke, Theodor. "The Qur'an," Sketches from Eastern History.
Trans. J.S. Black. London: Adam and Charles Black, 1892.
Writings of Theodor Nöldeke
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