Results of Islam—Untruthfulness—Superstitions—Pilgrimages—
Divining—_Jins_ and _dīvs_—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 been challenged 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 were famous 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-Christian assumption
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 off the 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 see whether 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.
[Illustration: CORPSES _EN ROUTE_ TO THE QUM CEMETERY.]
[Illustration: 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 the Arabian, peoples his deserts with
_jins_ and _dīvs_ and 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 the _jins_ and _divs_. Consequently we find _jins_ in the keyholes,
_jins_ in the _qan’ats_, _divs_ in the mountains, _divs_ in 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 the _chādar_ when 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 his early 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 I
become 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 me to
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 the _rūza khānī_ or 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 of fact 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 the _tauhid_
and _paighambari_, 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 although this
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 also
sanctifies 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 is
very 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 England have 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 touch with the natives should remember that the feeling of
_nijāsat_, 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 ordinary Persian 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 the cause 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
of Fatima; 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.
[Illustration: CARRYING THE NAKHL IN THE BIG SQUARE IN YEZD.]