We read of his exhaustion after the inspiration comes, and of "the
terrific Suras" that took their toll of his vitality afterwards. The
mission imposed upon him was no light burden, and demanded of him
strength both of body and mind. The successive stages by which he became
convinced of his divine call are only detailed in the histories with the
concurrence of the supernatural; he sees material visions and dreams
fervent dreams. With the ecstacy of Heaven about him, according to
legend, he holds converse with the angel Gabriel, arch-messenger of God,
and the divine injunctions must be translated into mental enthusiasms
before the true evolution of Mahomet's mind can be dimly conceived.

When he was forty he sought solitude more constantly than formerly. There
were deeps in his own nature of which he was only now becoming aware. A
restlessness of mind beset him, and continually he retired to a cave at
the base of Mount Hira, where he could meditate undisturbed. This
mountain, hallowed for ever by the followers of Islam, is now called
somewhat ironically, considering its natural barrenness, Jebel Nur, the
mountain of Light. Mahomet was of a nervous temperament, the nature that
suffers more intensely through its imaginative foresight than in actual
experience. He was of those who see keenly and feel towards their
beliefs. His faith in God produced none of that self-abnegating
rapture to be found in the devotions of many early Christians; it was a
personal passion, sweeping up his whole nature within its folds, and
rousing the enfolded not to meditation but to instant action.

Through all the legendary accounts there beats that excitement that tells
of a mind wrought to the highest pitch, afire with visions, alive with
desire. Then, when his fervour attained its zenith, Gabriel came to him
in sleep with a silken cloth in his hand covered with writing and said to
Mahomet: