CHAPTER V

Results of Islam—Untruthfulness—Superstitions—Pilgrimages—Divining—Jinsanddīvs—The evil eye—Trivial commandments—Entertainments—Islam includes rather than controls the life—Two purposes better than one—Ceremonial uncleanness.

It is now necessary for us to touch on some aspects of Mohammedanism in Yezd with which it was impossible to deal fully while sketching the essential system. In the last chapter we were primarily dealing with the religious ideas that had been brought to bear upon the country as influences, but in this chapter we shall speak rather more of their results. First of all, I should like to give two stories. I give the two, because one is the account of a conversation which I had with a man who was not an orthodox Shiah; and, although I fancy I have heard similar remarks made by men whose orthodoxy was unimpeachable, it is well to be on the safe side. I had beenchallenged to give my reasons for preferring Christianity to Mohammedanism, and in reply I gave an account of a conversation I had had with another Mohammedan only a day or two before. I had been trying to show him that lying was a sin, and he had replied to me: “It’s all very well for Ferangis to say that; but the fact is that they can’t tell lies, and we can.” I quoted this story simply as bringing out very forcibly a common Persian idea, for Persians trust Ferangis implicitly, not because they respect them, but because they believe they have a constitutional difficulty in telling lies. Having quoted it, I went on to say that as we all acknowledged in theory that truth-telling was right, it was reasonable to infer that a religion which had produced a mental constitution supposed to be incapable of falsehood, was better than a religion which had produced the exact contrary. The answer of the Mohammedan was that truth-speaking and honesty had nothing to do with religion, but were purely a matter of climate. “In that case,” I said, “the people of Persia ought to speak the truth very well, for one of the Greek historians who lived before the Mohammedan era declared that the Persians werefamous for speaking the truth.” “But who does not know,” said the Mohammedan, “that the climate of a country changes entirely every two thousand years?”

At another time a Mohammedan of undoubted orthodoxy was answering a similar position, only he was trying to explain away not only the difference in honesty, but also in other matters. He said: “These facts cannot be denied, but they prove the truth of Islam, and not its falsity. If you find that thieves have broken the doors and windows of a house, do you not conclude that there is something worth stealing inside?” I have reason to believe that this is a well-known retort, for other Europeans in other parts of Persia have been met by it. It is therefore well worth examination. I myself find in it two assumptions which seem to me to be peculiar features of Islam. First there is the assumption that the possession of the treasure gives no safety to the doors and windows: that is to say that the possession of true religion does not in any way assist the keeping of God’s commandments. The fact is that Mohammed’s commandment is not expected to be a source of spiritual strength, but only a set of orders. Then there is the equally un-Christianassumption that the keeping of the moral commandments of God is in no sense the treasure, but something entirely extraneous to it, which is not essential to the state of the treasure-holder. These two assumptions are to be found running through the whole of Persian Islam, and producing the most extraordinary results. Very few Mohammedans will hesitate to acknowledge the low state of Mussulman morality as opposed to that of the Armenians, or even of the Parsis, whom they regard as little better than idolaters. If a Mussulman of the teacher class has anything to gain by confessing or making it plain to an infidel that he has been guilty of gross sin, he will not consider that he has in the least forfeited his claim to a superior position by doing so.

Of course being non-ethical the religion becomes superstitious. The Mohammedan considers that there is no known principle by which the commands of the Deity can be connected and understood, consequently he admits actions in his religious code which we should regard as ridiculous. The whole theory of Mussulman pilgrimages is absurd, and the practice is even more so. What can be more intrinsically foolish, as well as heartless and cruel, than the custom of sending offthe old women, when they are past work, to some holy shrine, under the impression that, if they die on the very difficult journey, as in a certain class of cases they generally do, they will go straight to Heaven? It is rather a ghastly custom to send vast quantities of bodies for interment in the exceedingly inadequate space at Qum, over a country where there is no vehicular transport. But the natural demand for a more easy set of roads to Heaven has caused a multiplication of such practices as these far beyond anything that was originally taught in the mosques. Things have gone so far in this respect, that the most popular edition of the Quran in Persia is a very minute round one in two parts, absolutely illegible, and only suitable for wearing in a sewn-up case.

As in most superstitious countries, we find a number of superstitions connected with divining; and these are largely sanctioned by the mullas, who will divine with the Quran in a mosque for a fee. The commoner form of divining is with a rosary, rather on the plan of “Two, four, six, eight, Mary at the cottage gate.” Persians use this to an extent that is hardly believable. They will consult the beads as to whether to send for the doctor, and again, after he has come, to seewhether they should buy the medicine he prescribes, and finally, after buying it, they consult them once more before deciding whether the patient shall take a dose. At the same time it is quite permissible to “call threes.” A woman with raging toothache got permission from the beads to send for a European lady to extract the tooth, but on taking the beads for the extraction after her arrival they were unfavourable, so arrangements were at once made for divining with the Quran at a mosque, which would of course overrule any result with the beads. A Persian will consider himself quite justified in breaking a business engagement if the beads tell him he had better avoid the interview; indeed very often he will not so much as fix a date for the payment of a bill before he has consulted his almanac, and discovered which are the lucky and which are the unlucky days.

CORPSESEN ROUTETO THE QUM CEMETERY.

SANDY DESERT NEAR YEZD.

The vast empty deserts which surround Yezd, and the huge mountain ridges which form the horizon are to the Yezdi by no means empty. It is an axiom of science that Nature abhors a vacuum, and it is a corresponding psychological law that the human imagination cannot tolerate absolute emptiness. So the Yezdi, like theArabian, peoples his deserts withjinsanddīvsand devils, and wherever there is a space not filled in he imagines strange forms of animal life. At the risk of being considered superstitious myself I must own that I should like to see some of the travellers’ tales of Persia more carefully investigated, particularly those relating to the existence of very large lizards which are dangerous to human life. One is familiar with the defences that are being constantly brought forward for the fable of the sea-serpent; how that the sea is after all an almost unknown waste, only crossed in a very few places by well established water-roads that can be most easily avoided; and although the desert cannot be said to afford as much cover as the ocean, for it is not possible to plunge below the surface at any point at any time, still its vast expanses are almost as untraversed and unknown as the ocean wastes, and there are not a few places, especially in the mountains, honeycombed with caves and clefts. This however is a digression. In such a country as I have described, with its vast and barren solitudes, it would be difficult for a people to exist and maintain their reason, if they did not believe in something corresponding to thejinsanddivs. Consequently we findjinsin the keyholes,jinsintheqan’ats,divsin the mountains,divsin the rocks, anywhere, everywhere, a vast population filling up the huge interstices left by Nature. Most of this population is malevolent; so naturally the ordinary Persian is a mass of charms: nobody goes about without cold iron in his pocket, and a large number of people wear either the sacred book in its entirety, or large portions of it somewhere about their person. Also they are terribly afraid of the evil eye; and numbers of their charms, especially for the children, are directed against it. It is not that they think the evil eye common: any Persian will tell you that very few people have it, but they all know of at least one case, and they are terribly afraid of it, sometimes refusing to admit strangers to their house until they are satisfied they have not got it. If a mother sees a dead body before the birth of her child, then, unless she takes the precaution of placing some salt on the corpse, and afterwards putting a little of it in the child’s eye, her child will inevitably have the evil eye, and everything that is pleasing to its eye will be cursed. The evil eye is likely to kill children of tender years, so very young children are always hidden under thechādarwhen carried in the street.

These superstitions are exceedingly general, and sometimes co-exist with a certain amount of intelligence and education. I remember a man who had obviously been in touch with some of the Persian mystics, and was quite capable of discussing and more or less understanding complicated ideas, telling me that he considered that the silkworm owners in the Yezd district were exceedingly wise in refusing to admit strangers to see the worms. He explained to me that they were creatures of such extreme harmlessness and guilelessness that they were peculiarly susceptible to malevolent influences from the outside world.

Superstitions of this kind will be found in all countries, and in most lands there are in addition superstitions that seem to be more intimately connected with the religion. The nature of the country fosters the tendency in Persia, and the Parsis are nearly as superstitious as the Mussulmans. But in Mohammedanism the peculiar difficulty is that there is nothing to guide a man in separating the superstitious practices from any connected with a central true idea. The whole religion is a medley of trivialities. The history of Mohammed and hisearly admiration for the Jews, with whom he must have been constantly in touch, explains this. He saw the result of their ceremonial law and their national religious customs, binding them together and making them a peculiar people in every action of their household life; but of the parabolic significance of this law, of the doctrinal system which governed it, he saw and was taught very little or nothing. Nor did he want it: he wanted simply the political result, and in getting this he was eminently successful. He copied the system, but he gave to Islam a maximum of ordinances containing a minimum of teaching. After his death the minutiæ went on accumulating, until everything in the life of a Mussulman took a religious colour. In Persia the very dress is supposed to be more or less modelled on that worn by the prophet. The people not only kill their animals and eat their food according to the precepts of the Quran, but relying on their very extensive traditions they follow a prescribed religious practice in attitude and language. Shiahs are particularly scrupulous about certain of their washings, and think almost as much about them as they do about the regularity of their prayers. “If Ibecome a Christian, when and how am I to wash myself?” This is one of the commonest questions for an enquirer to put to a missionary. Another very common one is, “How am I to dress?” The Mussulman hardly understands you if you tell him that such points are left to the individual judgment. I remember a Persian trying to prove to me that I could not possibly consider all meats lawful and ceremonially clean, or I should eat cat. It is very difficult to explain to the Yezdi that the drinking of wine at meals is not a necessary Christian institution, and for this reason the consideration of the necessity of maintaining Christian liberty is in Persia rather an argument for total abstinence than against it. In Yezd we are continually being asked whether the commonest peculiarities of European custom, such as eating with a knife and fork, were ordained by Christ. In one house they had to make away with some kittens, and the servant was directed to dig a hole in the compound for their reception. While he was doing so he asked his mistress, “Did your prophet direct you to bury kittens?” But the extreme point of triviality was reached by a man who had seemed a most intelligent enquirer, and had asked meto explain the essential points of Christianity, to which he listened most attentively, appearing to weigh them in his mind. When I had finished, he paused to consider the whole position: “Sahib,” he said very slowly, “man mas’ala dāram.”—“Sir, I have a religious question to bring before you.” I said, “Bifarmāyīd.”—“Please proceed.” “Āyā Masīh,” he said very deliberately, “āvāz i sūtrā halāl dānist?”—“Did Christ consider humming lawful?” I reassured him on the point, and tried to explain the spiritual nature of Christ’s teaching. I then left the room to get a book, and, when I came back, he was humming to himself contentedly.

Religion also provides the Yezdi with his entertainments and excitements; the place of the theatre is taken by the Muharram miracle play, and that of the ordinary concert by therūza khānīor religious recitation, while even street rioting is generally connected with the persecution of people who do not agree with the religious opinions of the rioters. All this serves to strengthen the attachment of the common people to the religious system, which stands to them in the place of country, standard of etiquette, habits of life and code of cleanliness. As a matter offact religion is not quite the right term for the Mohammedan system, for religion means restraint, and the object of almost all of the other systems called religions has been to present a predominant idea which is to govern and restrain all other ideas and aspects of life. In Mohammedanism there is the predominant idea of thetauhidandpaighambari, but this conception more resembles the central doctrine of a philosophy than the governing principle of a religion. To put it in other words, Mohammed sought by his theological teaching rather to include everything than to control everything. Consequently the Mussulman, who reflects the spirit of his master much more than is generally allowed, is never satisfied with himself unless he is using religious language. What he does matters comparatively little, but the way in which he regards his action matters a great deal. If he forgets to mention God’s name, he corrects himself; but to his mind there is little or no blasphemy in connecting God’s name with any action of life, important or trivial, good or bad. The result of this is that those who are accustomed to religions possessing more influence over moral action are amazed at the religiosity of the Mohammedan: but althoughthis religiosity is a fact, the whole wonder of it ceases when the religion is carefully examined. Others are equally astounded at what they consider the hypocrisy of the Mussulman; but this also is a misnomer: a Mussulman is not hypocritical: rather he has taken up a position towards affairs which renders hypocrisy unnecessary.

In Persia, at any rate, there is a further mistake which ought to be guarded against. Islam is not mere worldliness sanctified by the use of religious terms: it includes a great deal of unworldly thought, although it combines all considerations, worldly or unworldly, with little if any distinction. Still it must be owned that the worldly considerations are apt to predominate, for the Persian Shiah seems to be a reflection of Mohammed, who suggested that pilgrimages should be used for purposes of trade, invited people to become Mussulmans for political reasons, and not only winked at the making of converts by threats and terrorism, but laid this down as one of the essential means for spreading the religion. It is not sufficient to call such a system politico-religious, for it not only includes matters of public expediency in the religious idea, but it alsosanctifies considerations of expediency that are purely personal. Yet there is one thing that the missionary in such a land as Persia cannot too fully realise; and that is that he is dealing with people who are not in the least ashamed of doubleness of motive. In their view, two purposes are better than one; and when it has been proved that their purposes are worldly, it has still to be considered whether there is not an unworldly purpose as well.

Men frequently come to enquire about Christianity, drawn by what seems to us a strange mixture of motives. They naturally enough put their more spiritual purposes first, for they realise that these are most appreciated by those to whom they talk, and they also consider that things like this ought to have a theoretical priority. Temporal needs are, however, much more pressing, and these have just as much claim to be satisfied by a new religion. Of course such a position is likely to be fruitful, not only of the gravest difficulties, but also of the most lamentable misunderstandings.

It will be readily understood that a system like this can easily be made to cover ideas which appear inconsistent, and as a matter of fact, it isvery difficult to define some of the notions which Persian Shiahs hold to a point of fanaticism. For instance, there is room for considerable difference of opinion as to how far the Yezdi regards the foreigner as unclean. The Mohammedan is taught to regard as unclean the eating of certain kinds of food, contact with certain animals, and also contact with the persons of people who have not been ceremonially cleansed. There seem, however, to be degrees of uncleanness. Mohammed in one verse of the Quran declared the food of the Christians and Jews, as well as all food that had been properly prepared by a Mussulman, to be lawful; but we cannot suppose that he regarded these different classes of food as equally clean. Bigoted Persians sometimes ignore this permission of their prophet’s, and declare that it refers only to dry food prepared by Jews or Christians; but in this they are not consistent, for they eat dry food prepared by pagans also.

The truth is that the attitude of the Persian towards the infidel is not altogether decided by Mohammed’s direct teaching, but to a very large extent it is based upon an elementary human feeling which can be found in almost every country under the sun. Most people in Englandhave a physical shrinking from undue contact with other persons. We do not care to drink out of a cup that other people have used, until it has been washed; we should, very few of us, care to take alternate bites at an apple with somebody else, and most Englishmen have a very similar objection to kissing. We are much less particular about contact with the hand, though here also we feel that a line has got to be drawn somewhere. Within the family we are less particular. Of course in connection with these things there is in England a great deal of talk about infection and the laws of hygiene, but the instinct exists apart from any notion of hygiene at all. Now in Persia you have got to remember that everything takes a religious colour, and this has tended to slightly modify the natural instinct, breaking down the wall of reserve within the boundaries of Islam, and giving the feeling the colour of a religious prejudice when applied to the outside world. Of course there are hundreds of Yezdi Mussulmans who will eat freely with a European without the slightest scruple, and a still larger number who do not allow their scruples to make any practical difference: at the same time people who wish to get into close touchwith the natives should remember that the feeling ofnijāsat, or ceremonial uncleanness, is a somewhat complex one, and that it will be more easy to overcome it if a certain discretion is observed. Persians eating the food of a European are on the look out for anything which is strange and peculiar, and if such peculiarities are observed they naturally feel more strongly the difference between themselves and their host. This not only renders them less approachable, but it also makes them much more shy of adopting Christian ideas, and in the case of enquirers, who, as I have said before, find it very difficult to understand that our customs are not all regulated by religion, a feeling may grow up that the state of Christianity is not possible to a native Persian.

As this book is not about Mohammedanism but about the Yezdi, I have perhaps devoted as much space to the religion of Islam in Yezd as is warranted by my choice of subject matter. At the same time there is no doubt that I have left out a great deal that might have been said, even without going into those details of doctrine and practice which it has been my intention to avoid. I have tried to give some idea of what Islam means to ordinary people in an ordinaryPersian town, and I have had to dwell rather more at length on points where there was danger of misconception either through too precise a study of the accurate doctrines of Islam, or through a too superficial view of the result. In doing this I fear that I may have passed over too rapidly the more familiar aspects of the religion, the intense excitement of the spectators and actors at the Muharram games, the mourning for Hasan and Husain, the frenzied fanaticism of the mob after a rousing sermon at the mosques, and the close adherence of many Mussulmans to washing and prayers. This is one side of Shiah Islam, but as it is better known I have attempted to give the other. I cannot, however, leave the subject without reminding those who have to do with Persians of two most important things; first, that there is a real spiritual seeking amongst Mussulmans, and that the presence of worldly motives does not preclude it; secondly, that there is real enthusiasm for their religion in spite of latitudinarian ideas. To the Mussulman, as has been before stated, the system of Islam is everything, and he clings to it as dearly as to life itself, for it represents to him every habit that he has formed, and its cause is thecause of every motive that he acknowledges to be possible.

The religious ceremonies which in Persia arouse the greatest enthusiasm and fervour are essentially Shiah. The yearly miracle play in the month of Muharram depicts the death of the Imam Husain, son of Ali and Fātima, and grandson of Mohammed. This is the occasion of the most violent exhibitions of emotion on the part of both players and spectators. Men lash their naked bodies with chains in an ecstasy of frenzy, and the whole crowd bursts into groans and tears of grief. Feeling runs so high, and becomes so unmanageable on these occasions, that the secular authorities have tried to keep the performances out of the larger towns. But the atmosphere which is created is not by any means anti-foreign in a general sense. The Imam Husain was done to death by his co-religionists, and tradition reports that a Ferangi ambassador interceded with Yazīd for the martyr’s life. This ambassador appears in the play, and Persians often try to borrow an English saddle for his horse from the European residents. At the performance at the big village of Taft, which is near Yezd, I think the ambassador was often dressed as a modern Englishman, but I cannot vouch for this. At Yezd itself, the miracle play was not acted; but the carrying of the Nakhl, a ceremony supposed to be fraught with the same kind of danger, took place yearly. The Nakhl is a huge wooden erection hung on one side with daggers, and on the other side with looking-glasses. There are several Nakhls in Yezd, and two are very large. This custom also is connected with the death of the Shiah martyrs. The Nakhl is supposed to be moved from its place in the square by the miraculous agency ofFatima; but a good many people take it on themselves to assist her. Lastly, there is a night set apart for the burning of Omar, the usurping Khalif, and the carrying of the effigy through the town is the occasion of extreme excitement. One cannot help being strongly reminded of Guy Fawkes’ day in England. Omar, it must be remembered, is a Sunni saint.

CARRYING THE NAKHL IN THE BIG SQUARE IN YEZD.

Character of the Yezdi—Systematised inconsistency—Loyalty to causes and individuals—Unreliability of evidence—Shame—Humour—Disregard of time—Language—Lack of initiative—Courage—The Yezdi soldier—Etiquette and manners—Triviality—Pride—Kindliness and cruelty—Dishonesty—Difficulty in obtaining anything—Tendency to fatalism—Latent strength of Persian character—Family ties—The Jus Paternum—Religious liberty—Open-handedness—Summary.

If it were not absolutely essential to the purpose of a book like this that there should be a more or less detailed analysis of the character of the Yezdi, I should certainly shirk making such an analysis. The Yezdi’s faults are numerous, glaring, and interesting. His virtues are not only fewer, but there is much less to be said about them. In the concrete man, these virtues show fairly prominently, the vices have their peculiar humour, and the whole is not unlovable. On paper, while discussing the different points of the Yezdi’scharacter one by one, it will be almost impossible to convey the general effect made by the entire human being.

When one first becomes acquainted with the Yezdi, one is inclined to regard him as so inconsistent in matters of morals as to be utterly devoid of all principle, bad or good. There is the same uncertainty about his actions that there is about the fall of an unloaded die. But just as the fall of the die is regulated by the law of averages, so the actions of the Yezdi are more or less consciously decided by what can only be termed systematised inconsistency, a kind of law of balance which seems to him to possess the merit of a principle. When he has done a certain number of good actions, which it must be confessed is frequently the case, then it is time for him to do some bad ones; andvice versâ, when he has done enough bad ones, he comes back for a time to good ones. This is partially the result of the theory ofsavabs; and the painful thing about it is that it makes moral trustworthiness impossible. If a man holds this pernicious theory as it was sketched in a previous chapter, then the more he has done right in the past the more he will feel justified in doing wrong in the future; and this inYezd is no mere nightmare, but the literal fact. A good many of the Yezdis are frequently fair and straight in their dealings, but I do not know a single Mussulman among them, with regard to whom it would be fairly safe to depend on his doing the right thing on any particular occasion simply because he knew it to be right. There are men whose ordinary habits are fairly good, but to a man who considers that derelictions of duty can be absolutely paid for by past or future acts of merit not necessarily involving very much trouble, the temptation to yield to slightly increased pressure is very strong, and is likely to frequently overcome the bias of habit.

On the other hand, Persians have very strong notions of loyalty both to causes and to individuals. Nothing has brought this out more than the history of the Babi movement, which has certainly exhibited the strength of Persian character. Boys and young men have in this movement willingly undergone the most terrible tortures in the service of their spiritual teachers and the common cause. It ought to be understood that the motives of the Babi martyr are not quite the same as those which have generally influenced the Christians who have died for their faith. The Christian martyrs havegenerally died rather than do some act which they felt to be sinful, or leave undone something which they regarded as essential. A large number of the Babi martyrs on the other hand have died because they chose not to deny their faith, which according to their tenets was perfectly permissible to do. Now I know of at least one man, a Persian of high position, who was killed as a Babi, but who would have preferred embracing Christianity. What was his connection with Babiism I cannot say: he would, I believe, have embraced Christianity had it not been that he shrank from a religion where a direct denial of one’s faith must always be accounted sinful. Whatever he was, he certainly did not shrink from making his divergence from orthodox Islam dangerously plain, and in this way he met his death. My purpose in mentioning the fact is to show that it is most difficult to induce a Mussulman to accept a very hard and fast line. Of course the story is only an illustration and does not prove the point, because there must have been other considerations which made Babiism, or a degree of unorthodoxy which passed for Babiism, easier to such a man than Christianity. It is not necessary to suppose that he was only influenced by a dislike to unbending rules; forthe inability to ever deny his faith might have exposed him to petty insults, which would have been to him worse than death. Also his position as a Christian would have been, humanly speaking, a more solitary one. Still, when all has been said, I am convinced that the constitutional dislike to a hard and fast rule played at least some part in bringing the man to his decision, and also that this dislike is more pronounced in the Mussulman Yezdi than in the Yezdi Parsi.

A Persian who attaches himself to an individual will often prove himself very trustworthy in all matters affecting that individual’s interest; and generally speaking, attachment to a European would be likely to produce a more dependable loyalty than attachment to another Persian. The feeling that a European friend would always himself act in a certain manner frequently leads a Persian to try and act in the same way towards him. I remember a Persian servant once replying to my wife, who had expostulated with him on the subject of some egregious falsehood that he had just told in the bazaars, “Of course, Khanum, I don’t tell lies to you, for you don’t like it; but these people expect me to lie, and one couldn’t tell the truth to them.”

Perhaps one might go further, and say that the Yezdi Mussulman frequently questions the virtue of keeping to an abstract principle, particularly when by abandoning it one might do a good turn to a friend. Impartiality is a thing which he absolutely fails to understand: indeed he considers it simply another name for disloyalty, and here it is probable that most other Easterns would agree with him.

It is impossible to treat the inconsistency of Yezdi Mussulmans as simple weakness. It is rather the absence of such principles as Westerns generally possess than the inability to keep to them; and indeed it is often the result of other principles of a peculiar kind, diametrically opposed to those to which we are accustomed. The Yezdis are a free-handed folk, and they despise a man who does not spend freely. They like to appear to live up to their incomes, and I think that some of them have a feeling of the same kind about their debit and credit account with their Creator. Also we must not forget that Persian inconsistency is not always a deviation towards wrong, but equally often a deviation towards right. Though in Persia it is never well to trust to a man’s character, it is always advisable to appealto high principles, even when dealing with apparently the most abandoned. While we were in Yezd we were brought into contact with three men in high position, whose names it is not necessary to mention, but whom I would put down as the three worst prominent men in Yezd. The first was an aristocratic official, the second a cleric, and the third an official and anouveau riche. Now each of these three at some time or other made himself conspicuous by conduct that one was bound to commend and approve. It is impossible to always analyse motives, but in at least one case the action seemed to have been due to nothing but a disinterested and unselfish impulse. In the other cases it is more probable that expediency, or a conscious intention of paying for sins bysavabs, entered into the matter.

To trace this peculiarity of the Yezdi’s character to its source is not easy. Sometimes it appears to be a species of hedging, for it is very difficult to find out the truth in Persia, and a general disbelief in everything may have led the Persian to feel that it is unsafe to stake his all on one theory of the universe. The amount of lying that is done in a town like Yezd baffles description. An Englishman when in doubt tells thetruth. A Persian when in doubt tells a lie. This would be more tolerable were it not that a Persian is always in doubt. In Yezd security is a thing unknown, and telling lies becomes part of the instinct of self-preservation. Then again the lies are of a new kind. Lies in England are generally told to deceive people in some particular; in Yezd they are just as frequently told in order to make the very search for truth impossible. When I have had to examine into cases of petty theft amongst schoolboys, I have found that to get at the truth is an almost superhuman task. English boys, if they do not tell the truth, will at least tell as few falsehoods as possible, if for no other reason, to avoid being found out. Persian boys will not only lie on the subject they wish to conceal, but they will tell as many untruths as they can cram into the story, so as to render any attempt at investigation futile. Of course you know that they are lying, but, as they never imagine that you will suspect them of telling the truth, they are not much deterred.

The result of this practice is that in the Yezd bazaars, taking together all statements, even the most trivial, that are made by Mussulmans, probably not less than one-third of the speechesmade are falsehoods. I do not think that the Persian beggar ever expects to be believed. A woman once came to the house, asking for a quilt because she had none, and her son was ill. To have no quilt, that is, to have no bed-clothes, is by no means an unbelievable state of poverty, and there is no doubt that the woman expected to have her words taken literally. It transpired that her son was quite well, but was taking sanctuary to avoid being molested for a debt. The woman had a perfectly possible quilt, but it was old and patched. She actually brought it to us the next morning, not to prove that after all they were very poor, but to show that in saying she had none she had spoken the truth. Another woman once told me in the street, that she had six orphan children and her husband was sick.

In a country like this it is not surprising that evidence is at a discount, and that there are intelligent people absolutely convinced that truth is unknowable. A man who is accustomed to act upon this theory in the ordinary affairs of life, is naturally inclined to apply the same principle to whatever religion or philosophy he possesses. So we get men who are unwilling to stake everything on anything in particular. If they havepreviously assumed that it is most advantageous to do what is right, then it is well to perform just a few actions on the assumption that it is more advantageous to do wrong. If they have hitherto acted on the principle that it is better to do what is wrong, then it is well not to put all their eggs into that basket either. And indeed I am inclined to think that many of the Yezdis would apply the same philosophy to their non-ethical ideas. If they have based most of their opinions on the assumption that something is true, it is well to base others on the assumption that the same thing is false. This, of course, sounds to us mere nonsense, but once grant with many of the Yezdis that evidence is valueless, and truth absolutely unknowable, and it at once becomes an approximation to sense.

It is quite possible that some of my readers may ask whether this last attempt to explain the inconsistency of the Yezdis is to be taken seriously. To say that I do not know is rather a weak confession, but at the same time it is true. I certainly do not pin my faith to it, yet it seems to be the way in which the bewildering topsy-turvydom of Persia is working. Never forget that the jokes of W. S. Gilbert are the facts of Persia. Forinstance, in an isolated place like Yezd, the laws of supply and demand operate so peculiarly that the ordinary custom of discount on quantity is inverted; you will be able to get things usually sold at three for a penny at perhaps thirty for a shilling. There was a governor in Yezd, certainly not more than twenty years ago, who had men bastinadoed for walking in the bazaars without treading down the heels of their slippers. In such a country it is very difficult to say what is in itself ridiculous and impossible. One can only judge from evidence, which is, I think, in favour of the theory I have just suggested as a possible explanation of undoubted facts. At the same time the unreliability of the Yezdi is probably due to several causes, and there is one of these causes about which one may speak with less uncertainty. This is the piecemeal appreciation of ideas and circumstances, which I have already mentioned as the result of the impression made on the Yezdi’s mind by the isolated objects which continually surround him, and which is probably heightened by a religion which was constructed under circumstances very similar to those of the Persian deserts.

Shame is the feeling of vexation consequentupon the consciousness of having fallen below an accepted standard of conduct, and where such a standard is not to be found, shame does not exist. Consequently the Yezdi, who has only the faintest idea of a moral standard that ought to govern his whole life, is not susceptible to shame in this particular. He has, however, a rather stronger idea of a general standard of intelligence up to which he ought to live, so it is often a greater deterrent to him to point out that a certain action will be regarded as ignorant or silly than to show that it is less moral than his ordinary behaviour. He also possesses a very keen appreciation of what he considers to be the ethical proprieties of a particular occasion. We must remember that what he lacks in breadth of view he makes up for in power of concentration on the comparatively small field of ideas that can come simultaneously within the range of his mental vision. For example, when European missionaries have been in vain attempting to simplify a most abstruse and metaphysical doctrine by spreading it over several easy steps, they sometimes find that the Persian mind, though it utterly fails to grasp the simpler train of reasoning, can without any assistance take inthe more difficult idea, so long as it is expressed with sufficient brevity. In the same way the Yezdi, who seems to have little or no sense of the proprieties of a lifetime, will have an appreciation of what is right and fitting on a particular occasion stronger than that of the European. This is what makes him so dignified at times and seasons, and so undignified in his life. Although his sense of propriety does not always work, where it does work it is so far from being weak that to violate it seems to give him a sensation that is near akin to physical pain. You cannot make a Yezdi apologise: if he has done an injury, he is quite content to ignore it, or to assert that it has not taken place, which is the ordinary substitute for an apology in Persia: but the man’s sense of shame is too great to allow him to confess to such an action before the man he has wronged. He has no objection to the man knowing what has happened; but at the interview his denial must be accepted or the injury ignored. This is the only way in which he can submit to the meeting.

The Yezdi has not a very fine sense of humour, but he is easily amused. Perhaps it is worth while to instance an occasion which occurred during ourstay in Yezd when the natives seemed really tickled. A certain Russian doctor resident in the town, who had not a very complete and accurate knowledge of Persian, wanted to use bad language to his servant, who had in some way offended him. As he knew no suitable expressions he seized the dictionary and kept looking them out one after another, and hurled them at the unfortunate man’s head as fast as this process would permit. This story was retailed with very great appreciation by some of the better class natives. I rather think it seemed to them very much more funny than it does to us, and this for two reasons. Persians have a great respect for literature, including dictionaries, and they would hardly understand their being frivolously handled; also they are very particular in adapting their language to the occasion, and it would strike them as the height of absurdity to abuse a servant in book language, as the doctor must have done, unless indeed the Russian publication he consulted contained real specimens of colloquial abuse, which would have struck the Persians as even more funny.

The story of Mulla Nāsiru’d Dīn and his mule is a very fair instance of Persian humour at its best.The Mulla, who was a notorious wit, had sent a mule to the market-place where such beasts were sold. People were suspicious owing to the Mulla’s reputation, but nobody supposed that he would let himself down by sending an unsaleable animal to the bazaars. So first of all someone examined its forelegs, and got badly pawed; then someone went to its hind-legs and got kicked; next they looked at its mouth and got bitten; finally they tried to put saddle-bags on to its back, and it threw them off immediately. Consequently when the Mulla strolled down everyone laughed at him, and asked him if he really expected anybody to buy it. “No, my friends,” said the Mulla, “I never expected any of you to buy it; but I wanted you to know what I have to put up with at home.”

One of the things that is most difficult for a European to tolerate in a Yezdi is his extraordinary disregard of time. It is not only that he does not care how long he takes over a thing, one might tell story after story on this point, but this is a malady common in the East. What I was not prepared for was that he should have no idea what time means. In Persia a clergyman’s work consists more of seeing people inhis own house, and less of visiting; but the great difficulty in receiving visitors is that, if one wants to see parties separately, a single reception is all one can satisfactorily arrange in an afternoon. This is what happens. Two parties send to ask when they can see you, and you reply by asking when it will be convenient for them to come. Both messengers state with the most absolute politeness that it makes no difference to their masters when you say, and that they wish you to choose the time. If you are wise you will tell one party to come two hours after noon, and the other to come at one hour to sunset, which, supposing the sun to be setting at six, will be five o’clock. They will both acquiesce, but you will have to be ready to receive the party due at two at one o’clock, and you must not consider them late if they arrive at three. Similarly you will prepare for the second party at four, and not consider them late before six. But the probabilities are that both parties will arrive at four, the favourite visiting hour, having both decided on that time before sending to ask you.[5]

Another great difficulty is the Persian language. Persian is a pretty language with an extremely large vocabulary. What is more, every class of Yezdi, that is, of the men, uses a very large number of words. For all this it is almost impossible to accurately define an idea, for the language largely consists of synonyms, which cannot be used indiscriminately, but must be carefully selected according to the occasion. Some of these synonyms really possess accurate meanings, but if you choose your word according to the sense you wish to convey, you talk bad Persian. To give an illustration of this, suppose in dealing with the Incarnation you desired to bring out the Christian doctrine that God is not only the Friend of man but also his close Companion. I am quite certain that in ordinary Yezdi Persian there is no sufficiently appropriate term for “companion,” that could be applied to God in such a way as to bring out your meaning, without exposing you to a charge of irreverence. As a matter of fact I once tried to convey this idea in a Persian sermon, and was met with this difficulty. I afterwards tried to get three or four native Christians, one of whom was a teacher of Persian, to suggest a possible word, but theonly expression they could propose was the word I had used.

The words one uses in a letter in Persian, even for the commonest objects, are almost entirely distinct from the words one uses conversationally, and the words which one would use in an ordinary prose history book are again different. Then it is almost impossible to distinguish the tenses; the true future is hardly ever used, consequently the present and the future are indistinguishable; and the preterite is frequently used of action which was begun in the past but which is still continuing. Lastly, the adjective is generally indistinguishable from the substantive, and the link between an adjective and the term which it qualifies is the same as the sign of the genitive. For instance the text, “This is My beloved Son,” may be read in the Persian Bible, “This is the son of My beloved” without the slightest violence to the grammar; nor, indeed, is there any obvious way out of the difficulty. I have mentioned these peculiarities of language because I think they are greatly connected with the Yezdi’s inaccuracy of ideas, though which is the cause and which is the effect is sometimes difficult to say.

There is no situation in which the Yezdi is so incalculable as that which seems to demand a certain amount of daring. Sometimes the people seem absolutely wanting in the power of taking the initiative, and expect to be directed like children. They have an aversion to killing animals except for food, even when there is danger to human life in allowing them to live. One day an English lady asked why a dangerous dog which had bitten several people was not killed. The answer was, “If you tell us to kill it we will do so, but not otherwise.” The fact is no one minded killing the dog, but they fancied the curse might lie with the initiator of the movement. They will go on letting things be, or allowing them to get more and more dangerous, until they have accustomed themselves to an amount of risk to incur which would be accounted by a European mere foolhardiness. In this they are largely influenced by predestinarian notions. An English lady was one day standing by an open tank in a Persian compound, into which one of the children had fallen that morning, and she remarked on its extreme danger. “Yes,” said the mother, “I have lost three children in that tank.” To builda small wall round such a tank would be in Persia exceedingly easy. Perhaps the little power of initiative that is left them by their predestinarianism is destroyed by the insecurity of the country. People get in the way of making as few improvements as possible, and of never exposing their capital more than they can help. In fraudulent business, however, there is a great deal of audacity, sometimes combined with a good deal of ingenuity. They are exporting at present to China a quality of so-called opium in which there is absolutely no morphia. The stuff is really an entirely different substance, and very cheap, and it is tied up in bags steeped in a solution of opium. It is, I believe, more harmful to smoke than the real article.

Passive courage the Yezdi possesses to a very high degree, but he must have a cause for which he cares sufficiently, if this courage is to be called out. If the terrible Babi massacres that have taken place from time to time in Persia have proved nothing else, they have at least shown that there is grit somewhere in Persian character. The way in which mere lads in Yezd went to their death in that ghastly summer of 1903 was wonderful. There was one boy whom they tried veryhard to spare, for sometimes the mob were moved by something akin to pity. They took him to themujtahidfirst, and told him to recant, and he would not. Then they took him to the open square, and held him up to give him one more chance, if he would curse the Behāu’llah and the Behāīs. “The curse be on yourselves,” was all he said; and then they tore him in pieces. The early Babis showed good fighting qualities in the north of Persia, as well as passive courage, and, as they were chiefly townsmen, we may presume that there are military possibilities in the Persian people, even amongst those who dwell in cities. But to look for military feeling in the kind of soldier that we get in Yezd is not fair. He is, I believe, collected by a sort of conscription from certain localities. When collected he is taught about as much of the ordinary elements of drill as is considered necessary in England for the national schoolboy. He is also assigned a wage of atomana month, which if punctually paid would be insufficient to cover anything but the barest food expenses. This mistake is, however, generally remedied by his superior officers, who usually intercept so much of his wages that he is bound to look for other means of support.In this he is not discouraged. If he has a little ready cash he usually sets up as a money-lender, his official position and possession of a bayonet assisting him to collect his debts. Otherwise he steals shoes, or takes up some other similar form of employment which does not demand an extensive capital; sometimes he even makes shoes. Once a year he is supposed to be supplied with a uniform, but, though the uniforms are probably not worth more than a few shillings, they are very seldom regularly supplied. He is, however, free to add to his uniform as well as to his pay, and at certain times of the year there is very little left of the original outfit except an old cap with a metal badge, and possibly a belt. When on sentry duty he amuses himself by planting a small garden, four inches by two, in front of his station, and he keeps a heap of rose-heads to press into the hands of passers-by on the chance of extracting odd halfpence.

During the latter days of the Babi massacres, a guard of four men, a sergeant and three privates, was placed at the doors of the European houses by the Governor. Every soldier came to us with a thing that looked like a gun and certainly had a bayonet attached to it; but we heard that atone house it became necessary to send down an extra weapon which would shoot for the common use of the party. Of course the gun that would shoot was withdrawn at the earliest possible opportunity. The higher officers of this extraordinary force are surprisingly numerous, but as there are among them, I believe, boys of about twelve who hold the title of Field-Marshal, there is some excuse for a reduplication of officers. It is only justice to add that some of these soldiers are in their way very good fellows: the guard sent to our house were by no means a bad lot; and I shortly afterwards met a military officer whom I would class with the best Persians I know.

Nor does the courage of Persia come out very strongly in the high official class, though here too there are honourable exceptions. Still, as a general rule, amongst those who claim nobility there is very little apprehension of the maxim “noblesse oblige.”

Of course there is in Yezdi manners and customs much that strikes the outsider as intensely funny. For instance, the etiquette is distinctly peculiar, and although very ceremonious, it does not always appear to the European to be characterised by great politeness. When youcome into the room the first two minutes will be spent in phrases intended to convey an exaggerated respectfulness. In upper middle-class houses your host will take upon himself the menial offices of service, not only making your tea himself, but going out of the room every two minutes to supplement the crockery, or to fetch another lump of sugar. If you have a servant with you, your host or his other visitors will discourse freely with this man before your face as to your most trivial personal affairs, and if there is a pause in the conversation they will make side remarks to one another on the number of your virtues, and when they have discovered a certain consensus of opinion, they will turn to you and give you the benefit of it directly, by telling you that you are a very good man. From this you must not infer that Persian friendliness is hollow: all that can be said is that the etiquette is artificial. Even so it means something; for when a man is anxious to pay you proper respect he adheres to it closely, unless he has reason to suppose that you would like him to adopt something of European manners, which some Persians dealing with Europeans try to do. However the etiquette is too elaborate and artificial for universal use, and generallyspeaking it is not much used except in matters relating to visits and to letter-writing. On other occasions Persians who have no intention of impoliteness are often a little off-hand as compared with other Easterns, and those who intend to be rude find plenty of opportunities for being so.

There is, I suppose, between the Persian and the European a difference of opinion as to what constitutes puerility. One of the Governors of Yezd once boasted to an English resident that it was no good trying to hide things from him, as he knew what every European in the town had for dinner. Then there is the custom of making absolutely worthless presents with the most superbempressement. Once when I was in a big village near Yezd with my wife and baby and mirza, a woman whom my wife knew came in, and after greeting us presented us with four very crumpled lettuce leaves, selecting the leaves according to her ideas of our exact precedence with the utmost care and circumspection, and having in the whole transaction very much the air of a maiden aunt giving a tip to a schoolboy. Nor must it be supposed that these customs only obtain amongst the women. A Europeanbanker once told me that if one of his brokers gave him anything, the others always followed his example; and that once at the bank one of them presented him with a rose-head, the second at once plunged his hand into his pocket and produced an old sweet, the third fumbled among his treasures, and at last found something which looked like a lump of gum. He could not quite remember what the fourth presentation was, but he fancied it was another sweet. Sometimes, particularly in Parsi houses, presents of this sort will be elaborately handed about, somewhat after the fashion of a round game, everybody giving something to everybody, and finishing with exactly the same amount as they had at the beginning. This game, however, is generally played on a special occasion, and the presents of fruit and sprigs of myrtle have a certain symbolical significance which gives grace and dignity to the performance. Of course the interchange of presents which although trifling have a positive value is one of the most striking features of the social intercourse of Persia. This is a custom which needs to be understood, and which soon degenerates into extravagance, but essentially it is a good custom. A higher value is always placedon what are calledsaughātsor travellers’ presents, and Europeans either travelling or residing in Persia should remember that a certain number of these will be expected of them. When a Persian has done you a real civility, he feels that to a certain extent he has introduced you to his home, and any little European thing which you may give him he takes as a graceful introduction to your separate life, and he values it from this point of view much more than would be otherwise possible. The custom, however, has its drawbacks; for it is the fashion in Persia always to present anything which a visitor has admired, and this becomes a peculiarly hollow piece of etiquette. Occasionally big Persians in dealing with inferiors use this custom as a means of enriching themselves, but this of course is exceptional.

When all has been said I think that we must admit that for some reason or other the Persian is willing to expend his energies upon things which seem to us to be absolute trifles. This was curiously illustrated on one occasion by one of the Yezdi gentlemen who is supposed to have advanced most in civilisation and culture. I was calling at his house at the time, and he handed me a mostelaborate atlas with charts and diagrams illustrating all sorts of out-of-the-way things. Some of these I did not feel myself competent to explain, but everything that I could explain he understood at once, and he had obviously before my arrival discovered the meaning of many of the diagrams. We passed on from this to discuss several of the great inventions of the age, including wireless telegraphy. In everything he showed a most intelligent interest, and great quickness of perception. Finally, he produced a photograph of a man who had been shown at an exhibition, I think at Paris. The man had an enormous beard, some twelve feet long. My Persian friend made no difference at all in his manner, but discussed this peculiar phenomenon in exactly the same way. I cannot remember all the details of this interview, or the exact amount of smile which my host allowed himself when we were discussing the photograph, but I have attempted to faithfully convey the general impression left on me by his manner. I think I am right in saying that it all points to the fact that the great difference between Persia and Europe is that the Persian tends to take things piecemeal, and the European to regard ideas in their relation toothers. At the same time this is not always at once obvious. A European is firmly convinced of the value of scientific knowledge, and will decorate a man who has discovered all that is to be discovered about a black beetle. Here the Persian will laugh at the European, as he also will when the European rewards highly extreme excellence in the practical trivialities of life. But it is obvious that these exceptions are more apparent than real. The Persian is like a man who has got a pair of glasses that give him a very clear view of a very small field of vision. He does not view things absolutely piecemeal, but he generally regards only a very small area at a time. A man who picks up shells with an idea of adding to the general store of human knowledge is to him an imbecile; but he is only willing to pay the same attention to an invention like Marconi’s that he would to an improved hair-wash. The consequence is that the Yezdi very soon adapts himself superficially to circumstances, and it is very easy to veneer him, but he does not easily assimilate fresh principles of action. In dealing with Persians it is well to realise this, and not to build too much on their adaptability.

A Persian visitor, when he is behaving according to strict etiquette, depreciates not only himself but all his belongings. It has been suggested that the admiration which is frequently expressed for foreign customs and ideas is really due to this etiquette, and similarly that the belittling of Persia as a country that has gone to pieces is due to the same cause. This suggestion is, I believe, entirely incorrect. A Yezdi will belittle himself, his house, his relations, and the country of Persia, because he regards the first three as purely personal, and does not care the least bit about the fourth; but if he belittles his town, his etiquette, or the foundations of his creed, he will make it very plain that he expects you to understand that he simply does it out of civility. There is one thing that a Yezdi puts before everything, and that is the water-supply of his town. I personally got on very well with the Yezdis, although I had to own that I did not admire Mohammed or his religion. But another European, who openly stated that he did not approve of their water, succeeded in absolutely alienating their affections. These exceptions show that Yezdis are willing to exhibit their pride in what they really love. Theyare also very proud of their literature, their language, and their intelligence. As a matter of fact, considering their extreme ignorance, they are not a conceited people, and their willingness to adopt foreign things more or less points to the same conclusion. Some of them, and these are generally the most ignorant, are insufferably conceited, but as a rule their comparative freedom from this vice makes them peculiarly likeable.

The nearest approach to a moral principle that I can find amongst the Persians is their commendation of simple acts of kindness. As I have before mentioned the idea ofsavabscovers many actions which have no ethical point, and it fails to cover in the Persian mind many actions of a moral character where the benefit is not at once apparent. But Yezdis are brought up to admire simple and direct acts of kindness, and to enjoy doing them. Generally speaking, they are very good-natured, and in nothing is this so obvious as in their conduct towards children. Of course cases of gross cruelty to children come to one’s notice occasionally, but they are after all the exception and not the rule, and the children are more often spoilt by weak indulgence. The Yezdi’s conduct towards animals very wellillustrates his character. I believe that there is less wanton cruelty, particularly towards wild animals, than you would find in a European town. On the other hand, the cruelty towards working beasts is beyond description, there being in this case an ulterior object. Again, the dogs in the street, which are more or less under the ban of the Mussulman religion, are treated in the most extraordinary way. They are made the recipients of little acts of good-natured kindness, perhaps under the impression that asavab, even to a dog, cannot do any harm, perhaps because a Yezdi is often better than his ideas. They are also treated on occasions with the most fearful cruelty, and the cruelty in this case has no point but the satisfaction of a religious prejudice. This is, after all, exactly the way in which the Yezdi Mussulman treats the human being whom he considers unclean. He has alternative principles which he chooses according to his mood and circumstances. Sometimes the prejudice against killing animals gives rise to very great cruelty. It is generally considered a sin to kill an animal except in self defence or for food, but you may do anything to it short of extinguishing life with your own hand.

To sum up, in the case of offences against the person Yezdis have an inkling of an ethical principle, which is frequently at issue with the more explicit teaching of their religion. This seems to me to be one of the most hopeful points in Persian character, and one which the missionary ought to most carefully study, trying to make it in many cases the basis of his appeals. But we have to beware of trading too much upon this very rudimentary principle. When we come to offences against property, we shall find it applied much less frequently, and working with much less force. There is no inclination to honesty in a Mussulman’s character to correspond with the inclination to kindly action. If you want to find anything of this kind you must go to the Parsis. On the contrary, there is nothing that gives the Yezdi Mussulman such intense satisfaction as the feeling that he has scored by his wits. He would much rather steal onekranthan earn two by the same expenditure of effort. A certain amount of dishonesty is recognised, and is not in any way resented. The servants, for instance, expect to make a certain profit upon all transactions. The extent of their profit is by custom left entirely to the conscience of the servant, buteverybody would confess that taking more than a certain amount was wrong. You will frequently catch less trustworthy servants trying to make over fifty per cent., and sometimes over a hundred. As to the morality of this custom when the lowest possible percentage is drawn I can only say that I am not wholly convinced, as it appears to me that servants who are trying to live a straight life never ask for it to be sanctioned, and sometimes certainly give it up, at any rate in its direct form. But the point is that wages are generally arranged on a scale that allows for a man taking very much more than the minimum percentage. Nor is this sort of allowance for dishonesty only made in servants’ wages. One day the cook of one of the Europeans went to the bazaars for meat, and after the usual haggling the price was fixed at twelvekransaman’(thirteen pounds), “But,” said the cook, “you have got your thumb on the scale.” “And do you think,” retorted the butcher, “that I am going to give you meat at twelvekransaman’, unless I keep my thumb on the scale?” This shows you something of Persian business principles, and indeed trickery is regarded by all Persians as part of the ordinary routine of life. Our servant once asked the milkman if hecould sell us some cream, and the man replied quite gravely, “No, if I take off the cream they will complain of the milk.” He obviously thought that the natural way to supply us with cream would be to skim the milk he sold us.

Passing to the merchant class the opium trade affords a good instance of the most barefaced type of wholesale fraud. Indeed, the fraud of a Persian town is beyond conception. We had a neighbour in Yezd who was considered a fairly respectable man, and whose sole business was the forging of seals. But the fact is that every class, from the highest to the lowest, is thoroughly permeated by the leaven of dishonesty.

There is so little security for property in Persia that men do not consider it worth their while to amass wealth by ordinary means. Everybody in a town like Yezd is trying to effect acoup, either a big one or a small one, and one of the results is the most extraordinarily rapid shifting of social positions. In Persia the road from beggary to princedom is a very short one, and the road from princedom to beggary is not very lengthy; only in this return journey it is somewhat difficult to prevent being assassinated, for when a big man is disgraced his life is in extreme danger.

This inattention to ordinary and petty business enterprise has curious results. When I first went to Yezd I found it almost an impossibility to get the things I wanted from the bazaars. The European has to deal with the bazaar through his servants, and it took my men about three days to get the commonest articles other than necessary provisions. Articles which I knew would need a little hunting for were sometimes, if I insisted, procured within the month. This is absolutely without exaggeration; and, although I believe I was unfortunate, other residents and travellers in Persia have confessed to similar difficulties. You may go into a town where the chief occupation is weaving, and declare that you want some of the woven articles which it is their principal business to make, and it is very possible that you may be unable to procure them, or only able to get the most inferior specimens, if you are passing through quickly. This is rather less true of the larger places on the main roads, like Tehran and Isfahan, but in towns like Yezd there is the greatest difficulty in getting what you want.

In an emergency it is frequently almost impossible for a European to get what is needed, if the things required are not such as he has beenaccustomed to buy at other times. To offer rather more than the price one usually gives is not of much use, and frequently has the very reverse effect to what is intended; for the seller in such a case may decide to forego the profits of legitimate trading for the chances of effecting acoup. But the real difficulty is rather that the retail trading of Yezd is totally devoid of ordinary enterprise. When the trader moves out of the ordinary rut of his every-day commerce he prefers to be fraudulent. In his customary business the shop-keeper makes a fair profit, and although his dealings may not be very extensive, there is always the chance of something really good coming his way. Meanwhile he has a position very much more dignified than that of the English shop-keeper. In Yezd the seller, not the buyer, is the conferrer of the benefit, and so far as the relation is concerned, the superior. When he sells very small quantities, he often charges less than the usual price. When he sells large quantities, he frequently charges something extra. Europeans in an ordinary way have not much difficulty in getting regular supplies when they become well known, though they have to pay more for them than the natives do. AnArmenian also has to pay more than a Yezdi, but less than a European. I am inclined to think that the poorer natives suffer from the difficulty of procuring on emergencies things which they do not ordinarily buy quite as much as ourselves, though probably the richer Persians have more facilities. This is just one specimen of the inertia of Yezd. In matters of transport one is even more in the hands of other people. It is extremely difficult to find transport at less than three days’ notice, and one can seldom get off on a journey within two hours of the time arranged. During the journey there is the same difficulty in controlling affairs. Under such circumstances people naturally get a tendency towards fatalism, and undue persistence even gets to be regarded as a sin. Probably this has some effect on the religious conceptions of the people, for, if a man who sticks to his point is not to be admired, it is difficult to understand why we should consider unchangeableness of purpose a necessary attribute of the Deity. Whatever may be the orthodox doctrine of Islam upon the subject, there is no doubt that the Yezdi fails utterly to understand why there should be any persistence or consistency in theview taken by the Deity of human sin, for the Yezdi himself would hardly feel justified as a father, or person in authority, in taking a similar firm stand. One of the consequences of this doctrine is that weakness is hardly accounted a sin at all. I remember two conversations with Babi mullas in which this came out very forcibly. They tried to argue thattaqīya, that is, the custom of denying one’s faith under the stress of danger, was sanctioned in the gospels by the story of Peter’s denial. I have also found other Persians who have disputed the sinfulness of Peter’s action, on the ground that he was the victim of compulsion. But the most curious suggestion with regard to the defensibility of weak conduct was made by another party of Babi mullas, who considered that the difference between the forbearance of Christ towards His enemies and the impatience exhibited by Mohammed was fully accounted for by the respective lengths of their ministries.

Back to Index Next