15. Religion
Religion
Chapter V
It is well known that the ancient Persians were not, like most other nations, worshippers of images, which indeed they abominated as much as, under another religion, they now do, and as much perhaps as the Israelites themselves did. Their idols were the natural elements, and in particular the fire, as the purest and most characteristic symbol or representative of the God they worshipped. Hence their religion was free from many of the grosser absurdities, and, it may be added, from most of the viler atrocities, of which the apostle has left a most awful and striking picture in Romans 1. But it was not the less an idolatry. For, although some of the most instructed men might regard the fire only as a symbol of the Divinity, as they understood His character and attributes, it is certain that the great body of worshippers suffered their admiration to rest upon the altar fires, which they deemed sacred, without caring to penetrate the hidden meanings which the learned assigned to that worship. This superstition is not extinct. It is still cherished by those descendants of the ancient Persians who retained the old religion, and of whom almost two thousand families still linger in the country, under the name of Guebres, but who are found in greater numbers in India, to which their ancestors retired, and chiefly about Bombay, under the name of Parsees. The two centuries of subjection to the Arabian caliphs, which followed the famous battle of Nahavund, in a.d. 641, more than sufficed to establish the Mohammedan religion in Persia; and the religion which was thus established, and which prevailed for more than seven centuries in Persia, differed in no respect from that which was professed in all Muslim countries, the system by which they are at present so much distinguished from all the other adherents of the false prophet being the adoption of a later age.
Sunnis
It must be understood that the law and doctrine of those who may be called the orthodox Muslims—as the Arabians, Turks, and others—are derived, first, from the Koran of Mohammed, and next, from his traditional sayings, which, as reported by his wives and companions, and as eventually expounded and reduced into a system by the four great doctors of the law, Haneefa, Malik, Shaffei, and Hanbal, became consolidated into one belief, which is called Sunni; or, in other words, the belief of those who assent to the Sunna, or oral traditions, and who consequently acknowledge the first four caliphs, Abubekr, Omar, and Othman, from whom most of these traditions were derived, as the chosen companions and legitimate successors of Mohammed. These four saints or doctors above-mentioned, to whom the organization of the system of law and doctrine is owing, were, during their lifetime, regarded as holy and learned men, and, after their death, were, in a certain sense, canonized as the four Imams, spiritual heads, or high-priests of the established faith. The four sects or schools founded by them, have been denominated the four pillars of the Sunni faith, and each of them has a separate oratory in the temple of Mecca; but this, and other formal distinctions, which they have preserved as separate sects, have not disturbed their union, which has been cemented by the common alarm at the progress of schisms, that threatened by their prevalence, not only to alter the faith, but to overthrow the whole system of their jurisprudence, which was established upon authorities, the purity and legality of which the schismatics openly denied.
Shiites
Among the chief of these schisms was that of the Shias, which has for three centuries and a half been the established religion of Persia. This name of Shia means heretic, and was applied, in the first instance, by the orthodox believers to the separatists. The great and essential difference between the Sunnis and the Shias is not, after all, in any matter of doctrine or ceremonial. It lies in the opinion which the Shias have inherited from the immediate partisans of Ali, that the celebrated man of that name had a Divine and indefeasible right to have succeeded to the caliphate on the death of Mohammed, which right descended to his heirs.
Muslim History As the peculiarities of the religion of the Persians are based very much upon historical events, it will be necessary, briefly, to state these circumstances, in order to render the details embraced in this volume more intelligible. For reasons which cannot now be ascertained, Mohammed abstained from giving any instructions respecting his successor. The legends which exist among the Persians, tending to show that he did nominate Ali, are entitled to no credit, as is admitted by many of the learned among themselves, who, however, urge that this proves that he considered the claims of Ali too manifest to be called in question. Indeed, Ali himself acknowledged before his death, that “the prophet” did not appoint any successor. On the other hand, the traditions adduced by the Sunni, to show that Mohammed indicated Abubekr as his successor, by requesting him to conduct public prayers during his last illness, is as little entitled to credit; for it is inconceivable that if Mohammed had in any way indicated his wishes on the subject, they would not have prevented the unseemly contentions which arose on the very day of his death. This contest at length became so violent as to threaten a violent rupture in the ranks of the Muslims. It was finally appeased by the prudence and moderation of Omar himself, one of the most prominent candidates. While the strife was still warm, he advanced to Abubekr,[7] took his hand, and declared his allegiance to him, as the caliph or successor of Mohammed. This pacificatory act was followed by the others who were present, and Abubekr was chosen to the office by the united voice of the company. Ali was not there on this occasion, nor does it appear that his interests as a candidate were represented or supported by any one. But, when the result was announced to him, he made no attempt to conceal his dissatisfaction that his own claims had been overlooked. These claims consisted in his being by birth a cousin of Mohammed, and his son-in-law by the marriage of his only surviving daughter Fatimah. He was also the first, beyond the immediate circle of Mohammed’s own household, who embraced the religion which he taught. These claims at the outset appeared so strong, that a considerable party adhered to him, and, even at this early period, the principles which have ever since been the essential grounds of difference between the Sunnis and the Shias, were distinctly marked out. The party of Ali contended that the office of religious leader (including the temporal rule) was hereditary, and that their chief was entitled to it in right of his twofold affinity to the prophet. Their opponents, who constituted the great body of the Muslims, held, on the contrary, the opinion, that the succession must be determined by the voices of the whole company of the faithful. It may have been the same conviction, which seems in accordance with the equalizing principles of his religion, that induced Mohammed to remain silent with respect to the succession. Not long after the appointment of Abubekr, Ali was, however, induced to declare his allegiance to the caliph, but it is generally supposed that neither he nor his followers were sincere in this transaction. When about to die, the caliph assumed the power of nominating his successor, and the person named by him was not Ali, but Omar, and the choice was confirmed after his decease, without opposition, the personal and public claims of Omar being, in fact, of the highest character.
Omar’s Reign
Omar reigned about ten years, and then received a mortal wound from the hand of an assassin. In his last moments, he refused to name any successor. Some mentioned his son, but he said that the responsibilities of the office were too great to be borne by more than one member of the same family; and, as to Ali, he said that he was not a sufficiently serious character to undertake so weighty a charge. All he could be prevailed upon to do, was to name a committee of six of the chief men among the Arabians, to whom the settlement of the matter should be referred after his decease. Ali was one of the six, and in the committee he did not hesitate to press his own claims. It is highly probable that the choice would have fallen on him, had he been willing to accede to the conditions proposed. These were, that he should govern in accordance with “the book of God,” as they called the Koran, the traditions of the prophet, and the determinations of the two seniors. To the first two conditions Ali assented; but to the last he demurred. The “two seniors” probably denote Abubekr and Omar, who had preceded in the caliphate; and, as they had been the source of numerous traditions respecting the dicta of Mohammed, as well as of many interpretations of the Koran, and of decisions founded upon it, the electors would naturally desire to secure from Ali a recognition of their authority; and his refusal, doubtless, laid the foundation for the principal heresy which the Sunnis charge upon the Shias, namely, the rejection of the traditions which rest upon the authority of the first caliphs.
Othman’s Reign On this determination of Ali, which was found to be unshaken, Othman, another of the six, was chosen caliph. He reigned nearly twelve years, and, at his death, the dispute about the succession was renewed with much increased violence. In the years that had passed, the cause of Ali had gained much strength. The Muslims began to see in his sons, now grown to manhood, the sole heirs and descendants of “the prophet;” and the great body of the Arabian people seems to have been at this time very much in his favor. His most inveterate adversary was Aayeshah, the before-mentioned wife of Mohammed, and daughter of Abubekr, who had all along taken a prominent part in public affairs, and was honored with the title of “the mother of the faithful.” She had from the first opposed, with the utmost virulence, the claims of Ali, partly, in the first instance, from the desire to see the office conferred upon her own father, and still more from her jealousy of Ali’s wife, Fatimah, who was daughter of Mohammed by his first and most beloved spouse, Kadijah. Her hostility continued to the end of her life; and, although it did not prevent him from at length attaining the caliphate after the death of Othman, it gave him much trouble in the possession of it.
Ali’s Reign By the time that Othman died, and the cause of Ali had become strong, that valiant and generous hero, then advanced in years, had lost all desire for the dangerous eminence to which he had once aspired, and would fain have declined it; yet it was literally forced upon him by the impatient zeal of his partisans, as well as from the cool judgment of many others, who hoped that this step would heal the divisions in which they saw much danger to the interests of Islam. But from the hour that he took up the staff of empire he knew not peace. The whole course of his reign was a storm and a conflict; and at length, like his two immediate predecessors, he fell by the blow of an assassin, while engaged in his devotions at the mosque. Ali was distinguished for his bravery; and the appellation of “Lion of God,” which is still often connected with his name by the Persians, was conferred upon him for his many daring exploits, long before he attained the caliphate. He was, as compared with his contemporaries, noble and elevated in his views, and if he was not qualified to gain and secure favor, the deficiency arose chiefly from his superiority to the low acts by which power is too often won and sustained. He was a poet, and was accounted the most eloquent man of his time. Some of his writings are still extant, among which his Moral Lectures are the most distinguished:
It is not necessary to relate in detail the troubles of Ali’s reign, which was incessantly disturbed by the rebellious movements of his domestic foes. His chief enemy was Moawiyah, of the family of Ommiyah, of the great tribe of Koreish, who held Syria under Othman, as his lieutenant, and who retained the rule in that quarter after the accession of Ali, and in despite of his power. Ali had fixed the seat of his government at Kufah, on the Euphrates, which thus became the center of those who were true to his interests. Hence it arose that while the western provinces fell away from him, those of the east remained faithful to him.
Hassan and Husayn
After the assassination of Ali (May 6th, A.D. 661), he was succeeded by his eldest son, Hassan, a man whose quiet and retiring spirit ill fitted him for the boisterous times in which he lived, and the bitter strife in which he was involved. He held the reins of government not more than six months, and then resigned them to Moawiyah, who by that act became caliph, and founder of the dynasty of the Ammiades. Hassan perished ere long by poison; and his death is usually, but perhaps erroneously, ascribed to Moawiyah. His pretensions were inherited by his brother Husayn, whose character was very different from Hassan’s, and had more resemblance to that of their father. When Moawiyah died in a.d. 680, his son and successor Tezid regarded his claims with jealousy and apprehension; and his letter from Damascus to the governor of Medina, announcing his accession, instructed him to seize the son of Ali, if he refused to acknowledge his right to the caliphate. The governor thereupon sent for Husayn to his house, informed him of Moawiyah’s death, and invited him to declare his allegiance to his son Yezid. This Husayn evaded for the time, and managed to retire to his own house, whence he escaped with his family to Mecca, which was faithful to him. He there received an invitation from the people of Kufah, the metropolis of Ali, with a promise of support in his claim upon the caliphate.
Relying on that promise, Husayn, despite the dissuasions of his wisest friends, set out for that place with his family and a small body of attached followers. But, before his arrival in that quarter, his principal friends at Kufah had been seized, and the manifestations in his favor put down with a strong hand by the emir Obeidallah, the caliph’s governor in the Arabian Iraq, who took the most careful measures for the defense of the country. When the news of Husayn’s approach arrived at Kufah, an officer name Harro was sent out with a thousand horses to meet him. He had orders to conduct him and his party to Kufah, but not otherwise to permit his advance. When Husayn heard these orders, he declined either to desist from his purpose or to submit, and commanded his men to continue their march. This was opposed by Harro, which provoked Husayn to answer him in the following terms, very much in use among the Arabs, “May your mother be childless of you!”[8] Harro fired at this, as the Orientals always do at anything like disrespectful mention of their mothers; but remembering who Husayn’s mother was, he restrained himself from the usual recrimination, and said—“If any one else had treated me as you have done, I should not fail to recriminate—but there is no tongue that can speak of your mother without the highest respect.” After this, he moved off his force, saying that he had no orders to fight with him, but only to conduct him to Kufah, and if he would go in any other direction he would meet with no opposition from him.
Husayn was resolved to push on to Kadeseh, a place lying nearer to Kufah, but not on the direct route. On the way, he learned the real state of affairs at Kufah, which might have taught him that his cause was hopeless. But he still went on; and by the time the governor was able to move out his forces against him, had reached Kerbelah, attended still by Harro watching his movements. The force destined to act against him, under Amer Ebn Saad, amounted to four thousand men, besides the one thousand already out under Harro—whereas Husayn’s fighting men scarcely amounted to a hundred and thirty-two horses and forty on foot. Before hostilities commenced, several messages passed between the parties—and Husayn being now well aware that the Kufans had deserted him, offered to abandon his enterprise and return home; but this, or any other condition, was now refused, unless he would first acknowledge Yezid to be the true and only caliph of the Muslims.
Amer then proceeded to cut off the communications between Husayn’s camp and the Euphrates, or rather with those branches of it called “the rivers of Kerbelah,” whereby, as intended, his people were in that burning climate reduced to the most dreadful extremities from thirst, with refreshing streams before their eyes. This led to a conference between Husayn and Amer, attended by twenty men each, in the space between the two camps. But nothing came of it, as the governor of Kufah would not authorize Amer to accept any other terms than unconditional submission, or the decision of the sword; and at the same time he dispatched a reinforcement of five thousand men under Shamer. The governor also sent the offer of his protection to four sons of Ali in Husayn’s camp, if they chose to separate their cause from their brother’s; but they refused it, saying that “the protection of God was better than that of the son of Somyah.”
Amer being thus reinforced, and having received a reprimand for his dilatoriness, drew up his ten thousand men in order of battle, and advanced towards the camp of Husayn, which lay there before this great army like a small fold of sheep in the wilderness. It was then past the hour of evening prayer, and Husayn, who was in the tent with his brother Abbas, asked and obtained a truce till the following day. The night was spent in prayers and supplications, broken by the waitings of women—Husayn’s sister and daughters—over the approaching doom of their brother and father, which their fears foresaw. At the break of day, both sides made the usual movements before a battle. Amer arranged his troops in battle array, and advanced to the camp to begin the attack. Upon this Husayn mounted his horse, and laying before him the Koran, which he vainly reverenced as the book of God, he conjured his soldiers, by all they held dear in this life and in the life to come, to attend him in the path of duty. This drew floods of tears from Husayn’s sister and daughters, who rent the air with their lamentations, upon which he sent his son Ali and his brother Abbas to pacify them, declaring that he would rather die on the field of battle than renounce his rights in the servile manner required. At this moving scene Harro, who has already been mentioned as one of Yezid’s commanders, was so overcome, that he declared aloud his grief at having intercepted Husayn, and rode over to his side, followed by thirty of his men, declaring his determination to die with the grandson of “the prophet.” A final effort was then made to mollify Amer; but he alleged that the orders he had received precluded all pacific measures—on which Harro upbraided him and all the Kufans with having imposed upon Husayn to his ruin, and reproached him with having deprived the heir of the prophet of the water of the Euphrates, which Christians, Jews, and Sabians were allowed to drink, and in which even swine and dogs might disport their unclean carcasses. Then, as usual in eastern battles, the fight began in single combats, see 2 Samuel 2:13-17; 1 Samuel 17:23, in which the champions of Husayn performed such exploits, that Amer hastened to secure the advantage of his numbers in a general action. In this, also, the force of Husayn performed prodigies of valor. But what could even the valor of despair avail against such fearful odds? At midday, although the battle had then become hot in all parts, Husayn performed his noontide devotions with great fervency, in the midst of the shattered remains of his little army—adding the prayer of Fear, which is never used but in the last emergencies of adverse fortune. The fight had already, in fact, been almost fatal to Husayn, who had lost his best men, and the greater number of his troops. The renewed attack made frightful havoc of the small remainder, and before evening scarcely any remained but Husayn himself, his little son Abdallah, and his nephew, also a child. The last had his hand struck off in the act of embracing his uncle, and was forthwith slain; and the little Abdallah was struck dead by an arrow while in his father’s lap. All was then nearly over. Husayn received first a wound in the head, which filled his helmet with blood, and was afterwards shot in the mouth with an arrow while quenching his burning thirst. But he still continued to defend himself like a man impelled by despair—insomuch that no one of his enemies ventured for a time to give to the smitten lion at bay the last mortal blow. At length his sister Zeinab made a desperate effort to save him, by asking Amer how he could have the heart to see Husayn slain. Upon this appeal, large tears were seen to run down his beard, and he turned his face away from her. But the other commander, who was of a more fierce temper, cursed and upbraided his men for not approaching Husayn; whereupon one advanced, and wounded him in the hand, another smote him in the neck, a third thrust him through with his spear, and he sank to the ground after having received thirty-three wounds, and thirty-four contusions. After he fell, his head was struck off, and the conquering soldiers rode over his body so often that it was trodden into the very ground. The head was the next day presented to Obeidallah the governor of Kufah, who struck it over the mouth with his staff, and treated it with much contempt. The enmity with which this person had acted was, however, not approved by his master Yezid; who, upon the arrival of the express sent from Kufah to apprise him of what had happened, and to congratulate him on the success of his arms, is reported to have shed tears, and said, “May God refuse his blessing to the son of Somyah for this! I should have been well pleased without the death of Husayn. Had he been with me I would have pardoned him. God loved Husayn, but did not suffer him to reach the dignity to which he aspired.” So also, when the head of Husayn was brought to him, his compassion was much excited, and he cried out, “O Husayn, had it been in my power to save thee, thy life had not been lost!” We have no right to distrust the sincerity of the feeling thus expressed on the part of Yezid, to whom the Persians will not yield the credit of any capacity for generous emotions or compassionate sentiments. We the rather believe him sincere, from the fact that Husayn was a man whose high and noble qualities won the respect and esteem of many whose interests were adverse to his own. Innumerable anecdotes are current respecting him, in illustration of his character, and of his views and sentiments. Of these, we have room for only one, related by Yezdi in his treatise on Divine Love. Husayn one day asked his father, Ali, if he loved him: and when Ali answered that he loved him most tenderly, his son again demanded, if he loved God: and on his reply in the affirmative, Husayn said to him, “Surely two loves can never meet in the same breast;” Ali was so much moved at this, that he could not forbear shedding tears; when Husayn, touched by the impression his words had made, hastened to comfort him. He asked, “O my father, which would in my eyes be the sorest evil, my death, or the sin of infidelity?” And when Ali unhesitatingly replied, “Much as I love thee, my son, I would sooner yield thee up to death than abandon my faith in God;” Husayn promptly rejoined, “By this sign, then, it is clear that the love you bear to me is only a natural tenderness, but that your true love is given to God.” This brief historical statement will explain the ground which the Persians take in their distinctive system of faith. They are the successors of that party by which, ever after the abdication of Hassan, and the martyrdom (as they regard it) of Husayn, the claims of Ali to have succeeded Mohammed in the caliphate, and to have transmitted that honor through his children, the sole descendants of “the prophet,” were constantly upheld. Believing this, they execrate the memory of the caliphs who preceded Ali, whom other Muslims regard with the highest respect; and they consequently refuse any credit to the traditions that come through him.
Ali’s claims, they assert, rested on his nearness of kindred to Mohammed, of whom he was the cousin, and on his having married Fatimah, the only offspring of “the prophet.” They also affirm that he was expressly nominated by Mohammed as his successor, and that those by whose intrigues he was deprived of his inheritance, acted in direct contradiction to the will of God, as signified through his servant; and that hence the three caliphs who preceded Ali, instead of being worthy of the honor in which they are held by the orthodox, could only be regarded with abhorrence and indignation, and the traditions coming through sources so polluted could not be received as of any authority or value. As this invalidates a great portion of the expository law which the orthodox held in equal regard with the Koran itself, a very serious and radical ground of separation arises out of what appears to be, at the first glance, no insuperable matter. The difference is something, in this respect, like that between the Pharisees and the Sadducees, though there are no such doctrinal differences as subsisted between these two sects; and the Shias do not, like the Sadducees, reject all traditions, but only such as come through what they regard as a corrupt source. Traditions which can be traced to Ali and his friends they receive.
Twelve Imams
We have related in some detail the circumstances of Husayn’s death, on account of the great prominence which, second only to that of Ali, the Shias assign to him among their twelve imams. This is difficult to account for, unless, as Mr. Southgate remarks, “it has arisen from the tragic representation of his death, which itself may have been contrived in the first place merely for a temporary purpose, and to have gradually extended to an annual and universal observance. The effect of this frequent and touching commemoration (which we shall have occasion to describe), would naturally be to excite a spirit of enthusiastic reverence for the martyr who died by the hands of his enemies. And so it is. His sepulcher at Kerbelah is the principal object of religious pilgrimage. His name is heard as often from the lips of a Persian as that of Ali. There is no excellence which he is not supposed to have possessed—no virtue which he did not exemplify. This enthusiasm, if it does not arise from, is preserved and quickened by, the yearly celebration of his martyrdom, in like manner as the simple act of commemorating our Savior’s death is the most efficient means of strengthening the fidelity and love of his disciples.” At the first view it might seem that the succession of Ali to the caliphate would have satisfied the expectations of his adherents, and would have extinguished the feelings which had been generated by his undeserved exclusion. But this was not the case. It was considered that the children of Ali were the sole descendants of Mohammed, and his adherents contended that the same high temporal and spiritual power which should immediately have descended to Ali, ought to have been the heritage of those who sprang from him. His death, and the tragic end of his sons, with the misfortunes of descendants (who, although admitted to the rank of imam, or chief priest, were excluded from all temporal power), led many to cherish in secret the principles of this sect, and to mourn over the hard lot of those whom, as the direct descendants of Mohammed, they regarded as the first of men. Of these imams there have been twelve, of whom Ali himself is counted the first, and Mehdi the last. To all of them qualities and powers corresponding to the nobleness of their origin are ascribed. Supernatural knowledge, perfect holiness, and the power of working miracles, are amongst the attributes which are ascribed to them. Mehdi, the twelfth and last imam, was but five years old when he succeeded to the imamates, and he disappeared at the age of twelve years. The Sunnis and the Shias somewhat differ in their views concerning him. The former consider that his is destined to appear again towards the end of time, to summon all the nations of the earth to the knowledge of Islam. It is added that three hundred and sixty heavenly spirits will assist him in this mission, and that he will act as the vicar of Jesus Christ in the imamate. The Shias, on the other hand, entertain the opinion, that the “imam Mehdi still dwells in the world, living unknown of men in some sequestered cave. His return is the object of their wishes and expectations; for they hold that he is to recover the rights of his house, to establish a universal caliphate over the whole earth, and to bring all men to the true faith—as is indicated by the name of Mehdi, or Director, which he bears. Who does not see in these notions respecting the reappearance of the imam Mehdi, a blasphemous misappropriation of the expectation of the Christian church respecting the establishment of our Lord’s kingdom over the whole earth, and of his reappearance hereafter, “to be glorified in his saints, and to be admired in all them that believe,” 2 Thessalonians 1:10. Indeed, if we were to discriminate nicely, it might seem as if the Sunni notions were more founded on this expectation; and the Shia notions more upon the expectation which the Jews entertained, and do still entertain, respecting the Messiah’s coming.
Shia Established
Now, it was through the accession to the throne of Persia of a descendant of one of these twelve imams—the seventh, named Moossah Kazim—that the Shia system became the established creed of Persia. This descendant was Shah Ismail, all whose ancestors up to the imam had been regarded as holy men, and some of them as saints. They had long been settled at Ardebil, where they lived as retired devotees, that they might attract disciples, and acquire that fame which they pretended to despise. The first of the family who attained to any signal reputation was Sheik Suffee-u-deen, from whom the dynasty took the name of Suffavean. He was succeeded by his son Sudder-u-deen, whose reputation for sanctity was so high, that contemporary kings visited his cell. Among them was the great conqueror Timur Beg, better known in Europe as Tamerlane, who demanded to know what favor he could bestow upon him—“Release those prisoners you have brought from Turkey,” was the noble request of the recluse. The conqueror consented; and the grateful tribes which thus recovered their liberty, declared themselves the devoted disciples of the man to whom they were indebted for it. Their children preserved as sacred the obligation of their fathers; and the descendants of the captives of Timor became the chief supporters of the family of Suffee, and eventually enabled the son of a devotee to ascend what was then one of the most splendid thrones in the world. “History,” says Malcolm, “does not furnish us with a better motive for obedience, or a nobler origin of power.”
Ismail When Ismail ascended the Persian throne in 1492, the seven Turkish tribes with other adherents, by whose aid he had risen to this eminence, formed a considerable body professing the Shia faith, which was soon adopted by the whole nation, and became the established religion of the country; and the Persians speedily learned to regard with hatred the opinions which they had themselves formerly held. This was the source of the animosity which sprang up between the Turks and the Persians, and which has been the cause of many bloody wars between them. The abhorrence with which the Shias regarded those who upheld the claims of the men who persecuted the sacred family of Ali, is well repaid by that with which the Sunnis regard those who defame the great names they are accustomed to mention with reverence—and, being aggravated by mutual charges of unsound and infamous tenets, at length reached such a pitch, that these kindred religionists learned to look on each other with far greater dislike than men of an entirely different religion. Reciprocally, the Sunnis and Shias have shown that they regarded their opponents as entitled to less consideration than even Jews and Christians, and have even questioned whether the very idolaters were not better than they.
Ali’s Romantic Influence The hold which the romantic history of Ali and his sons took upon the imaginations of the Persians; the seductive influence of that man-worship, of which Ali became, in some sort, the object; and the force of that vigorous hate with which they had so long been accustomed to regard the Sunnis, in the course of time settled into fixed habits and conclusions, the force of which was little understood by Nadir Shah, when, for the advancement of his political objects, he strove to bring about a uniformity of faith. When that remarkable man had contrived that the crown should be offered to him, he accepted it only on the condition that the Shias should in future abstain from publicly anathematizing the first three caliphs, and that they should discontinue the festivals they had been in the habit of celebrating in honor of Ali and his unhappy sons. It may be easily conceived that it was not philanthropy or humanity which made this ferocious conqueror a preacher of moderation, and which at one time induced him to argue the matters of difference in full conclave with the doctors of the law. His object was, to conciliate the Arabs, Kurds, and Turkmens, who composed the greater part of his army, and to pare the way to the more easy conquest of Turkey, by removing the causes of religious animosity. He, however, thwarted his own object, by pressing it too sharply, and by making the great mistake of supposing that new points of faith might be settled by coercion, and that it was not more difficult to rule consciences than to govern men by force of arms. In the end, he incurred the hatred of his subjects, shook the foundations of his own power, and at length perished, without having realized the least success in this design. When we reflect upon the facility with which the Persians adopt foreign customs, even from those they have overcome; and when, in particular, we consider the ease with which they received the Muslim religion from the Saracens, and, in a later age, the Shia system of belief from Shah Ismail, we may be the more impressed by the tenacity with which they held to their faith on this occasion. We know not what further change there shall be among this people, until that day—oh, that it were come!—in which they are folded with Christ’s sheep, and live upon his pastures. A glance thrown forward, in faith, to that time—which is surely coming, though they dream not of it—often cheered our own hearts, in witnessing much that we now describe; and seemed to create a kind of brotherly interest in a people who present many fine qualities, overshadowed by much evil.
It is not our object to describe the Mohammedan religion, which is professed by many other nations besides the Persians. We must rather confine our notice to what is peculiar to them, and serves to distinguish them from others who hold the Muslim unbelief. But these peculiarities are almost entirely such as grow out of their appreciation of the high claims of the family of Ali; for, in doctrine and in ceremony, there is little to distinguish them from other Muslims. A slight variation in the mode of holding their hands, and of prostrating themselves in prayer, is the chief visible distinction; and, as a distinction, is somewhat analogous to the different modes of making the sign of the cross in the Soman Catholic and the Greek churches. But it is Ali who is the central point of the Shia religion—the person who, by the orthodox Muslims, is treated with decent respect, is, in the Persian system, exalted unto heaven. It is an article of their faith, that Ali was the lieutenant of God. In an axiom which is very common among them, they demonstrate the respect in which they hold him—“Mohammed is a city of knowledge, and Ali is the gate thereof.” It is under the impression conveyed by this metaphor, that they ascribe to him and his descendants a vast superiority to the rest of mankind in virtue and in knowledge. A learned Shia doctor said, in an answer addressed to Henry Martyn, that the number of expressions in the Koran which could be understood perfectly was extremely small, and that the greater part of the things contained in that book were comprehensible only by the prophet himself and his descendants. One half of this—the part which characterizes the Koran—is certainly true. The more educated class of Shias allow a great difference between Mohammed and his son-in-law; and, although they regard Ali as the legitimate successor of their prophet, they are far from looking upon him as his equal. But, in popular opinion, no bound is set to the veneration and fanaticism of which Ali is the object. He is exalted above human nature, to him miracles are ascribed, and almost Divine honors are rendered to him. How they also venerate the chief line of his descendants, the Imams, has been already shown: Fatimah, the sole child of Mohammed, and wife of Ali, they venerate as a saint; and through this appreciation of her, a woman figures in the Shia system with honors otherwise unknown to Islamism.
Muslims and Christianity
Like other Mohammedans, the Persians hold the unity of God in such a sense as precludes them from acknowledging a plurality of persona in the Godhead; and the doctrine of the Divinity of Christ (whom they otherwise respect) they reject with abhorrence, and regard Christians as idolaters and polytheists for holding it, and for making Him an object of worship. In fact, the Mohammedan declaration of faith, “There is no God but God, who neither begetteth, nor is begotten,” is, and was designed to be, a standing protest of Islam against this most essential doctrine of the Christian faith, without which that of man’s redemption were a shadow and a dream. The fact that Mohammedanism publicly, three times a day, raises its voice against this doctrine, places that system of religion in a truly peculiar and awful condition. Muslims are not like the heathen, who are ignorant of the doctrine of Christ; they are acquainted with it, and knowingly and nationally, from day to day, they protest against its most essential principles, and reject them as abominable. This, as we are assured from experience, forms a great discouragement to missionary exertions among Mohammedans, whether they are Persians, Turks, or Arabians.
Ceremonial Purification The Persians make quite as much account of ceremonial purification by washing as do other Muslims, and as did the Pharisees of old. The principle of such purification is thus laid down: “The body appears before God as well as the soul; it must, therefore, be cleansed from all stain previous to the performance of any religious act.” There seems nothing to object to in this—and a similar practice or cleansing the body from impurity before taking part in Divine worship, was sanctioned by the law of Moses, from which indeed the Muslim practice seems to have been borrowed. But the tendency of the mind to rest upon external observances has here, as among the Jews, been manifested in the multiplication of objects which render a person unclean, and in the carrying the scruples respecting legal purity to such lengths, that a strict and scrupulous man might occupy a third of his time in acts of purification. This religion lies so much more than even that of the Jews in “meats and drinks, and divers washings,” Hebrews 9:10, as to become quite as burdensome as the Jews had rendered the ceremonial law of Moses in the time of Christ. So very oppressive indeed is it, that the courage and patience of self-righteousness—its strong shoulders and iron sinews-could alone be sufficient to sustain them; and it is, perhaps, necessary to witness these things to realize the full sense of the liberty with which Christ has made us free. Every other religious system, however cunningly devised, is a slavery and a burden—nor is there any other in which a shadow of freedom for the soul can be found. Among the Persians, men whose conduct in life affords no evidence of any kind of religious or moral principle, are often found to be the most scrupulous in their ceremonial purifications; and it is scarcely possible to live a day among this people without having occasion to realize a most vivid recollection of our Lord’s denunciation of the Scribes and Pharisees—“Woe unto you, hypocrites! for ye make clean the outside of the cup and of the platter, but within they are full of extortion and excess,” Matthew 23:25. The Muslims like the Jews, Leviticus 15:13, prefer performing their ablutions at running waters, and when this is inconvenient or impracticable, care is taken that the water used shall so far run in the application that the same water shall not be twice applied to their persons. In the absence of running water, still water may be used; in the absence of clean water, foul water; and in the absence of any water, dust, sand, ashes, and even dried dung, may be rubbed over the party requiring ablution. It may, therefore, be easily conceived that these ablutions do not in all cases contribute to personal cleanliness.
There is no people who carry the pharisaical washing of “cups and pots,” Mark 7:4, to the same extent as the Persians. Even as a strict Jew could not enter the house of a heathen, or partake of his food, without pollution—so neither does any Persian, who has regard for his religious character, partake of the food, the cup, or the pipe of a Christian or of any one of those he regards as an infidel—that is, of any who are not of his own faith. This, however, does not so much, so far as we were ever able to learn, arise from any conception that your religion in itself renders you unclean, as from the belief that your habitual use of food and drink which his law teaches him to regard as unclean and defiling, has imparted to you, as it would to himself, a personal uncleanness, which is transmitted to all you touch, so far as to render it unfit for their food. The Turks, though a much less tolerant people, lay comparatively little stress upon these matters, which engage the chief solicitude of the Persians. A Turk will not refuse to partake of a Christian’s food, while he has reason to know or believe that it contains nothing unclean; nor will he hesitate to drink from the same cup that a Christian’s lips have touched, or even to drink the remainder of what he may at table have left in his glass. We remember to have been so often annoyed upon journeys in Persia, in seeing persons breaking the earthen vessels from which we had drunk, or in vigorously scouring those of metal or of wood which had been defiled by contact with our impure lips, that we provided ourselves with a cup of tinned copper, in which to receive from their vessels the draught of water we had sometimes occasion to solicit. So also, when a Persian has received a Christian into his house, there will follow a general purification of all the metal vessels, and a breaking of all those of earthenware which he may have used in drinking or in the preparation of food. The following remarks of Mr. Southgate, on this subject, we can corroborate from our own observation: “It is in this particular of the ceremonial uncleanness of a man of another religion that the Persians differ most widely from the Turks—most widely, I mean, so far as regards those things which meet most frequently the observation of the traveler. On this point, the Persians generally receive opinions and practice from education. Their religious directions are most minute concerning it even to indecency. There are many, especially among men in public stations, who are entirely neglectful of such precepts, and they are strictly followed only by the religious orders and the common people. Among the former they are doubtless mingled with bigoted feelings, and regarded in a very serious light. Among the latter it was a mere matter of unthinking imitation. They are strict in some points, and neglectful in others. They are careful to avoid the most prominent and notorious uncleannesses, while they are continually polluting themselves with those which, though of less importance, are equally forbidden. A servant sometimes will not eat of a dish of which his Christian master has partaken, and yet he will suffer himself to be rendered religiously impure in a thousand other ways. These notions, therefore, should not be considered as indicative always of bigotry, or even of sincere attachment to Islamism. There are many who rigidly practice this who can boast no other religion, besides those who never perform the stated prayers, or observe any other precept of their faith.”
Religious Tolerance
It might be supposed that this keen sense of the uncleanness of those who are not of their own religion, would have the effect of making them less tolerant of their presence. But this is not the case. There is no Muslim power in Asia which allows so much freedom of hand and tongue to others as do the Persians. In Turkey, and especially in Roumelia, a Christian subject would be punished with death who should dare to lift his hand against a Muslim. But in Persia, the Christian enjoys almost as much freedom as the lower class of Muslims themselves. He may complain if insulted, and may defend himself if smitten, and sometimes does both with much effect.
We may cite an anecdote or two in illustration of this important difference between the Persians and all other Muslims. From this it will appear that the naturally tolerant temper of the Persians receives all encouragement from the government, and that less from political motives than from a principle of justice. The first is a circumstance that happened in the early part of this century in the province of Azerbaijan, then under the government of Abbas Meerza, heir apparent of the king who at that time reigned, and father of the monarch now upon the throne. One day, in the month of January, 1807, a Persian belonging to the household of the prince, thought fit to insult publicly an Armenian merchant in the city of Tabreez, and to grossly revile him, for no other reason than the difference of their religions, the Armenian being a Christian. Not content with personally affronting the Christian merchant in the most outrageous manner, the man launched out into the most atrocious abuse of Christ himself, his gospel and his cross.
These blasphemies so aroused the indignation of the Armenian, that he could contain himself no longer, but laid violent hands upon the aggressor, mauled him severely, and left him extended upon the ground. The man, covered with dirt and blood, presently got up, and went to the palace of the prince his master, to prefer a complaint against the Armenian merchant by whom he had been so roughly handled. He took good care, however, to suppress the real cause of the quarrel, and interlarded his story with many false allegations against the merchant. The prince had too much penetration, and understood his countrymen too well not to discover, in the circumstantial details which the man gave, grounds for suspecting the truth of his statement. He therefore determined to hear the matter in full divan. The Armenian was summoned to allege what he had to say in his own defense, and those who had witnessed the fray were called to give their testimony. After hearing the declaration and the evidence, the divan was convinced that the Persian had, without provocation, attacked the Armenian, by his blasphemies against Christ, and that the other had for this cause only, inflicted chastisement upon him. With a view to prevent similar offences in future, and to satisfy the minds of the Christians resident in the country, the prince determined that the decision in this case should be given under the sanction and authority of his recognized guardians of the Mohammedan law. He therefore convened a divan, composed of the sheikh-ul-islam and the principal ulemas of his city, and proposed the following questions, which he required them to answer:—
1. “Was the Lord Jesus (Hazreti Issa) a real prophet of God?”
Ans. “Yes.”
2. “Are the laws contained in his noble gospel (Indjilisherif) just or not?”
Ans. “They are just.”
3. “Is it permitted by our laws to blaspheme the Lord Jesus and his noble gospel?”
Ans. “No: it is not permitted.”
Upon these unanimous decisions of the ulemas, the prince ordered the merchant to be set free, and his own servant to be punished with a hundred strokes of the bastinado,[9]and he further dismissed him from his service. This was intended as a warning to those who should be disposed to insult the professors of the Christian faith; it made at the time a strong impression, and had a most salutary effect. But one cannot reflect upon it without lamenting that those who were thus prepared to treat Jesus with respect, could not see in him not only “a prophet,” but a Redeemer, and in his “noble gospel,” not only “a just law,” but a message of salvation and eternal life to a ruined world, to be received by faith.
[9] A piece of wood or a whip used to perform a “foot whipping”. The other anecdote is this: In April, 1815, the neighborhood of Teheran, the metropolis, was visited by a most extraordinary drought. The sheikh-ul-islam of that city conceived that he was performing an action well pleasing to God and the king, in leading the populace to believe that the drought, and the consequent dearth of the productions of the soil, formed a punishment inflicted upon them for permitting the city to be polluted by the presence of the wine stores kept by the Armenian Christians. The people were at length so excited that they proceeded in a large body to the quarter inhabited by the Armenians, and, in the presence of the sheikh, pulled down one of the churches, and demolished the houses of several dealers in wine. Considering that the use of wine is strictly forbidden by the Muslim law, there was certainly some just cause of displeasure that the permitted use of it to the Christians afforded facilities by which Muslims were seduced into transgressions of their law. But we quote the anecdote for the sake of the lesson of toleration which grew out of it—and certainly nothing could justify the riotous course taken on this occasion, by those whose craving for the forbidden drink created the supply of and trade in the liquor, which the Christians would otherwise have kept only for their own use. The king heard of it, and was much incensed. He sent for the sheikh-ul-islam, and the chief of those who had acted upon his instigations. “Audacious wretches!” he said, “who commanded you to do this deed? What law authorizes such proceedings? Is the sheikh-ul-islam your sovereign, and the ruler of this country? You have violated the laws of my dominions, and by them I condemn you! Depart from my presence.” The legal penalties were immediately enforced; and the culprits were obliged to pay the Armenians a penalty of a thousand tomans (five hundred pounds[10]). The king then sent for the principal persons among the Armenians: “It is my wish,” he said to them, “that all my subjects, of what religion soever they be, should enjoy a just liberty and live unmolested under the protection of my royal authority.” He then promised to inflict condign punishment upon the sheikh-ul-islam, and exhorted them to pray to God for the preservation of his life. At the same time, he ordered his treasurer to pay to these persons the sum of three thousand tomans (£1,500[11]), as some compensation for the injury the Christians had sustained. He moreover commanded that the church which had been demolished should be rebuilt at the expense of government, and that restitution, should be made for such furniture or effects as had been damaged or destroyed.
[10] In United States dollars this would equate to around $78,000.
[11] In Unites States dollars this would be around $234,000. In general, a Turk or an Arab will not willingly enter into a discussion on the doctrines of his own religion with a Christian, nor will he allow a word against them, or in disparagement of them, to be uttered. But it is not so with the Persians. They not only tolerate, but enjoy, discussions on their own tenets, and on the relative merits of Islam and Christianity; and they will say themselves, and allow those whom they regard as infidels to say, whatever they please on the points of their belief, or the persons whom they venerate. Many stories are current of the latitude which they allow themselves on such matters. The following is not a bad specimen: A mullah, preaching one day in a mosque, dwelt strongly upon the examination which the deceased have to undergo from the angels Nekyr and Monkyr, as soon as they are deposited in the tomb. “Don’t believe a word of it!” cried one of the congregation, “for one of my slaves died a few days since; I filled his mouth with rice, and, on digging him up again today, the rice was just as I left it. Now, it is morally impossible for a man to give answers, even to angels, with his mouth full.”
Missionary Work
It is a great matter to one who feels impelled to declare the gospel of Christ, to find a Muslim people willing to hear him, and to argue the matter with him. This is considered a great encouragement, and will be apt to awaken expectations which, if seldom other than disappointed, have at least the satisfaction that the word of God has been proclaimed. No immediate results may be seen, yet that word will not return unto Him void, but will assuredly prosper in the thing whereto he sends it—although that thing may not be the one we had immediately in view, and the frustration of which may make us too readily conclude that we have labored in vain, and spent our strength for naught. There are several causes which excite this readiness to hear, or rather to discuss, on the part of the Persians—such as a love of disputation, and the desire of triumph in argument, which everyone expects when he begins a controversy—a curiosity to know the peculiarities of other religions, and to know what those who profess them can allege in their defense—a laxity of mind, bordering often on freethinking, which makes them not unwilling to hear what can be alleged against their own religion, though from habit they adhere to it, or cannot find sufficient inducement to abandon it publicly for another—and, lastly, a wish to make themselves agreeable, especially when they have some object to gain. With reference to the love of disputation, it must be understood that the educated Persians are very subtle reasoners; and as the preaching of the gospel to the poor and uneducated would be certain to bring about, ere long, a controversial interview with the learned doctors of the Shia faith, a very peculiar class of qualifications would be required of the missionary in that country. He would, in fact, need a special training in all the intricacies of Persian dialectics, to preserve himself from being surprised in argument, and brought to a point which will insure his defeat in the eyes of those whose opinions he controverts, and thereby subject himself to the mortification and the terror of feeling that he has exposed to apparent damage, through unskillful defense, the cause he has labored to support, and which he knows to be true. There are but two courses—either to enter the field well furnished with the peculiar weapons of this warfare, or to avoid all these discussions, declaring simply the truth of Christ, and meeting all cavil and objection with the authoritative, “Thus saith the Lord.” This course has often been blessed of God, when the results of the most subtle controversies have proved abortive. The openness which results from the desire of information, we have not seen more strikingly illustrated than in the interesting life of Sheikh Mohammed Ali Hazin, a very learned Persian, who died, at an advanced age, in 1779. He relates that, during the studies which engaged his mind in early life, he became anxious to inform himself on the questions and truths or different religions, and concerning the followers of the various sects. “I became intimate with the doctors of the order of Christians, and their padres, who were a numerous body at Isfahan, and tried and measured the quantity of knowledge in each of them. One held pre-eminence among them, and they called him the caliph Avanus.[12] He knew Arabic and Persian well, and was versed in logic, astronomy, and geometry. Some Mohammedan books had undergone his perusal, and he had a great wish to investigate several of their questions and propositions; but from fear, and through the utter disrespect of the Muslim doctors for his order, he had been unable to attain his object. He esteemed my society a great acquisition, and when, after a while, he had become acquainted with my character and just discretion, he showed me very great sincerity and friendship. From him I learned the gospel, and, obtaining access to their commentaries upon it, I thoroughly investigated their articles of faith and the principles of their religion, and read a great number of their books. He also, sometimes, asked information from me, and I repeatedly, by various arguments, proved to him the truth of the Mohammedan faith. Not having a word to say in reply, he stood convinced of the error of his way, but he died without having openly received the grace of being directed in the straight road of salvation.” This was his inference, the fact being, probably, that the poor man was no match for this accomplished Muslim in the arts of logic and disputation, who was thus left in the conviction that he had silenced, if not convinced, one who, so far as appeared to him, was the ablest champion of the Christian doctrine.
“I acted in the same way with regard to the varieties of the Mohammedan faith. I read the books of every sect, and considered what each had to say, discreetly and anxiously remarking on their arguments. Wherever I found a person belonging to any sect who was knowingly attached to his own religious opinions, I frequented his society, and made myself acquainted with his views and discourses. In this way I had much conversation with the followers of different opinions.”
Royal Persian Bible Translation The Sheikh Mohammed Ali Hazin was not singular in his wish to acquaint himself with the doctrines of the Christians and the Jews. A few years after this time, the king himself, Nadir Shah, on his return from the conquest of India, conceived a desire to obtain a translation of the books of Moses, the Psalms, and the Gospels. He accordingly sent a mullah, or doctor of the law, to Julfa (the Christian suburb of Isfahan), with the charge to assemble the Jews, the Armenians, and the Franks,[13] and arrange with them the measures necessary for this work. The mullah confided the translation of the books of the Old Testament to the Jews, and those of the New Testament to the Armenians and the European (Roman Catholic) missionaries. The translation was commenced in the month of May, 1740. The mullah seems to have rendered much assistance in the task. With him cooperated two of the missionaries, two Catholic Armenians, and two monks and two priests of the “schismatic Armenians,” as the Roman Catholics call all those who have not conformed to the principles of the Roman Church. We are told that every word was carefully examined, and the true sense was sought with solicitude, as well as the terms by which it might be best expressed in the Persian language. The diversity of sentiments among the translator’s often gave birth to different interpretations, between which it was left for the Mohammedan Mullah to arbitrate.
“Towards the close of this year (1740), he caused a translation of the four Evangelists to be made into Persian. It seemed, however, from the manner in which he conducted this business, to be more the effect of caprice, than of any steady and consistent plan. The affair was put under the direction of Meerza Mehtie, a man of some learning, who, being vested with a proper authority for the purpose, summoned several Armenian bishops and priests, together with divers missionaries of the Romish Church, and Persian mullahs, to meet him at Isfahan. As to the latter, they could not be gainers, since the change, if any took place, was to be in prejudice of Mohammedanism. Besides, Nadir’s conduct towards them had been severe to an extreme and unprecedented; many of them, therefore, gave Meerza Mehtie large bribes to excuse their appearance.
“Among the Christians summoned on this occasion, only one Romish priest, born in Persia, was a sufficient master of the language to enter upon a work of so critical a nature. As to the Armenians, though they are born subjects to Persia, and intermixed with the inhabitants, yet there are few of them who understand the language fundamentally. It was natural to expect that Meerza Mehtie and the Persian mullahs would be more solicitous how to please Nadir, and to support the credit of Mohammedanism, than to direst themselves of prejudices, and become masters of so important a subject. This translation was dressed up with all the glosses which the fables and perplexities of the Koran could warrant; their chief guide was an ancient Arabic and Persian translation. Father des Vignes, a French missionary, was also employed in the work, in which he made use of the Vulgate edition. They were but six months in completing this translation, and in transcribing several fair copies of it.
“In the May following, Meerza Mehtie, with the Persian mullahs, and some of the Christian priests, set out from Isfahan, for the Persian court, which was then held in the encampment near Tsehiran.[14] Nadir received them with some marks of civility, and had a cursory view of the performance. Some part of it was read to him, on which occasion he made several ludicrous remarks on the mysterious parts of the Christian religion; at the same time, he laughed at the Jews, and turned Mohammed and Ali equally into ridicule. Under such circumstances, it was impossible that this performance should produce any good effect. He observed, that the evangelists did not agree in their accounts, any more than did the Mohammedan and Christian priests; therefore he must remain under the same difficulty that he was in before—that out of both, if it pleased God to give him health, he would engage to make a religion, much better than any which had been yet practiced by mankind, with several other vague reflections of the like nature. He then dismissed these churchmen and translators with several small presents, not equal in value to the expense of their journey.”
Persian Bible Translation
Having noticed this attempt to obtain a translation of a portion of the sacred Scriptures, we are induced to trace the steps which have since been taken towards the great object of enabling the Persian people to read in their own tongue the wonderful works of God. In doing this, the writer is much assisted by information collected from the records of the British and Foreign Bible Society, for which he is obliged to the kindness of the Rev. A. Brandram, one of the secretaries of that noble institution. In 1806, the Baptist missionaries at Serampore commenced, at the expense of the society, a translation of the Scriptures into the Persian language, of which, however, only the Book of Psalms was ever published. In 1808-9, the Rev. Henry Martyn, then of Dinapore, undertook, with the approval of the Calcutta Auxiliary Bible Society, and in conjunction with the too celebrated Sabat, a version of the New Testament in Persian, of which only two Gospels were printed at Calcutta. This work, as appears from the Rev. J. Sargent’s very interesting memoir of Henry Martyn, was substantially the work of Sabat, working under Martyn’s superintendence. The latter says, in one of his published letters, “Sabat is prodigiously proud of it. I wish some mistakes may not be found in it to put him to shame.” Mistakes were found in it. After two of the Gospels had been printed, it was considered, on further inspection and more mature consideration, to require too many amendments to admit of its immediate publication. It was, therefore, returned to the translator, who, under the superintendence of Mr. Martyn, bestowed so much pains and attention upon it as to render it a new, and it was hoped, a sound and accurate work. By those, however, who were considered good judges at Calcutta, it was still deemed unfit for general circulation, inasmuch as it was thought to abound with Arabic idioms (the translator being an Arabian), and to be written in a style pleasing only to the learned, but not sufficiently level to the capacities of the mass of common readers.
It was this decision which induced Henry Martyn to proceed to Persia, with the view of collecting the opinions of learned natives as to this translation. He reached Shiraz in June, 1811, and having at that celebrated seat of Persian literature speedily ascertained the general correctness of the opinions delivered at Calcutta, respecting the translation of the New Testament by Sabat, he forthwith resolved then and there to commence another and entirely new version of the New Testament in the Persian language. In this task he had the assistance of a learned Persian, Meerza Seid Ali Khan; and on the 24th of February, 1812, the work was completed. “I have many mercies,” says the author of this great work, “in bringing it to a termination, for which to thank the Lord, and this is not the least. Now may the Spirit who gave the word, and called me, I trust, to be the interpreter of it, graciously and powerfully apply it to the hearts of sinners, even to the gathering of an elect people from the long-estranged Persians!” Mr. Martyn had also felt encouraged to undertake a version of the Psalms in the same language. He found this, he says, “a sweet employment, which caused six weary moons that waxed and waned since its commencement to pass unnoticed.” It was finished by the middle of March in the same year. These works, the result of ten months’ unremitted application of one “whose praise is in all the churches,” were published at Calcutta in 1816. In 1821, Meerza Jaffier, a native Persian, then residing at St. Petersburg, was engaged by the British and Foreign Bible Society to under take a Persian translation of the Pentateuch, and on receipt of the manuscript of the Book of Genesis, 1,000copies were printed in London under the editorship of Meerza Ibrahim, a learned Persian, attached to Haileybury College. Meerza Jaffier having completed the Persian translation of the Pentateuch, was authorized to proceed with the historical books, of which he subsequently furnished the translations of Joshua, Judges, Ruth, and part of Samuel. In 1822, the venerable archdeacon Robinson, then Chaplain of the Honorable East India Company, at Poona, undertook, in connection with the Calcutta Auxiliary Bible Society, and at the expense of the British and Foreign Bible Society, to prepare a version of the Old Testament into Persian. This translation was duly carried forward, and separate portions were from time to time printed, until at length, in 1837, the whole work was announced as being published at Calcutta. In 1825, The Rev. Dr. Glen, at that time one of the Scottish missionaries at Astrakhan, and favorably known by his translation of the book of Psalms into Persian (of which an edition was printed in this country by the Bible Society), was engaged at the expense of the British and Foreign Bible Society to translate the poetical and prophetical books of the Old Testament into Persian, which, in the course of several years, with the aid of a Persian moonshee, he completed. It was, in 1829, the privilege of the present writer to witness something of the progress of this great work. He was then one of a large party which found themselves for several days the inmates of Dr. Glen’s primitive missionary establishment at Astrachan; and beheld with admiration the quiet way in which this good man, absorbed in his task, pursued his wonted course, undiverted for one hour by the engagements or excitement which the arrival of so large a body of Christian friends from home might have been expected to create. At his appointed hour he withdrew, and was to be seen no more until the labor of his day had ended. Yet this was made consistent with the most cordial hospitality, and the utmost attention to, and consideration for, his visitors. We were reminded, by application, of the words of Nehemiah, “I am doing a great work, so that I cannot come down: why should the work cease, whilst I leave it, and come down to you?” Nehemiah 6:3. In 1832, Meerza Ibrahim, of Haileybury College, having made a translation of the Book of Isaiah into Persian, which was highly spoken of by competent judges, the British and Foreign Bible Society purchased the manuscript, and printed 2,000 copies of it. In 1842, the translation of the whole of the Old Testament having been completed by the Rev. Dr. Glen, it was printed under the editorship of the translator at Edinburgh, the British and Foreign Bible Society contributing £500[15] towards the expense. It is a great satisfaction to see from this account, that by the labors of several learned men, and devoted servants of God, and through the liberality of different societies—chiefly of the British and Foreign Bible Society—the whole of the sacred Scriptures exists in the Persian tongue, and very many copies of them have been circulated. Thus the people have an opportunity of reading in their own tongue the true account—and not the false one, in which they trust—of God’s wonderful work in the salvation of man by the blood shed upon the cross. May He, of his great mercy, grant that this knowledge may be in them a savor of life unto life, and not of death unto death!
[15] In United States dollars it would be around $74,000.
Indifference to Truth
We have hinted that the readiness of the Persians to hear and apprehend, is often the result of indifference, of complaisance, and of interested motives. As we know of no writer who has touched on this point more sagaciously than Mr. Southgate, we shall quote his words: “It has often been supposed that the liberality of sentiment which is so strongly characteristic of the Persians, is a highly favorable indication with regard to efforts for their improvement. In one respect this is true, for it creates that accessibleness of which I have before spoken, as a high and peculiar encouragement. But, on the other hand, it is to be remembered that their liberality is not an independent love of the truth, but a general laxness of sentiment, which renders them indifferent alike to truth and error. It is a spirit of free-thinking, which casts them loose from Mohammedanism, without bringing them nearer to Christianity. It arises from their vanity, their imaginativeness, and above all, from their want of principle, both in morals and in philosophy. This, I believe, is the greatest defect, as it is the most strongly marked trait of the Persian character. By principle here, I refer not only to the everlasting foundations of moral rectitude, but to those great laws of reason, which are either innate, or, at least, readily and universally understood. A Persian, although quick to apprehend, is slow to yield to conviction; and this not from sobriety and caution, but from volatility and flightiness. His mind slips from beneath the hold of an argument, and starts off in another direction, without having received any impression. It is this which renders controversy with him useless, and demands an immediate appeal to the conscience and the heart.” This traveler adds: “Meerza Seid Ali, the coadjutor of Martyn, in the work of translating the New Testament, is still living at Shiraz, an old and respected man, although in worldly circumstances considerably reduced. Nearly thirty years (more now) have now passed away since that which he spent in the society of Martyn. He is still, as he was then, a professed inquirer for the truth, dissatisfied with his own religion, and unprepared to embrace Christianity; and yet he is doubtless more sincere in his desire for a settled faith than the thousands of his countrymen, who are drifting idly about upon the fathomless and shoreless sea of a vainglorious skepticism.” Of the lower influences, of even the duplicity from interested motives, which some Persians have been found to manifest, our own observation and experience would supply some painful examples. We prefer, however, to produce one which this traveler supplies. “Soon after my arrival at Tabriz, a young Persian called upon me, and expressed a strong desire to study English. Knowing I was a clergyman, he expressed his great motive to be, that he might be able to learn something of the Christian religion. To use his own words, which I recorded soon after the interview, ‘Man,’ he said, ‘must die. I also am human, and cannot live forever. I wish to learn something of religion; to compare what the Messiah has written, with what Mohammed has written. My prophet, I am convinced, has written many things that are false. He declared himself at liberty to have more wives than any other man, whereas, being a prophet, he ought not to have been attached to the things of this world. This is only one instance. Now, I wish to learn the truth, and to this end am desirous of studying English, that may read and understand the truth.’ Unfortunately for this specious profession, I ascertained soon after that the Meerza cared nothing for religion, and was far from being a serious man; and at length I obtained from himself the confession, that his sole motive was worldly ambition. He had hoped that his knowledge of English would recommend him to the notice of the Shah, and gain for him riches and honor.”