From this time a change comes over Mr. Martyn's varied life. We have
seen him the successful candidate for academical distinctions--the
faithful and laborious pastor--the self-denying and devoted
missionary--the indefatigable translator--the preacher of the gospel
to the heathen; we are now called to admire in him the courageous
spirit of the Christian confessor.
He says, on his voyage towards Persia: "All down the Bay of Bengal I
could do nothing but sit listless, viewing the wide waste of water, a
sight that would have been beautiful had I been well. In my Hebrew
researches I scarcely ever felt so discouraged. All the knowledge I
thought I had acquired became uncertain, and consequently I was
unhappy. It was in vain that I reflected that thousands live and die
happy without such knowledge as I am in search of.
"Proposed family prayer every night in the cabin--no objection was
made.
"February 18, anchored off Bombay. This day I finished the thirtieth
year of my unprofitable life, the age at which David Brainerd finished
his course. I am now at the age at which the Savior of men began his
ministry, and at which John the Baptist called a nation to repentance.
Hitherto I have made my youth and insignificance an excuse for sloth
and imbecility, now let me have a character and act boldly for God.
"March 5. Feerog, a Parsee who is considered the most learned man
here, called to converse about religion. He spoke Persian and seemed
familiar with Arabic. He began by saying that no one religion had more
evidences of its truth than another, for that all the miracles of the
respective founders depended upon tradition. This I denied. He
acknowledged that the writer of the Zendavesta was not cotemporary
with Zoroaster. After disputing and raising objections he was left
without an answer, but continued to cavil. 'Why' said he, 'did the
Magi see the star in the East and none else? from what part of the
East did they come? and how was it possible that their king should
come to Jerusalem in seven days?' The last piece of information he had
from the Armenians. I asked him whether he had any thoughts of
changing his religion. He replied with a contemptuous smile, 'No,
every man is safe in his own religion.' I asked him, 'What sinners
must do to obtain pardon?' 'Repent,' said he. I asked, 'Would
repentance satisfy a creditor or a judge?' 'Why, is it not said in the
gospel,' rejoined he, 'that we must repent?' I replied, 'It cannot be
proved from the gospel that repentance alone is sufficient, or good
works, or both.' 'Where then is the glory of salvation?' he said; I
replied, 'In the atonement of Christ.' 'All this' said he, 'I know,
but so the Mohammedans say, that Hosyn was an atonement for the sins
of men.' He then began to criticise the translations he saw on the
table.
"April 23. Moscat, Arabia. Went on shore and met the Vizier. His
African slave argued with me for Mohammed and did not know how to let
me go, he was so interested in the business.
"April 25. Gave him an Arabic copy of the gospel, which he at once
began to read, and carried it off as a great prize, which I hope he
will find it to be.
"Bushire, Persia. Called on the governor, a Persian Khan. He was very
particular in his attentions. Seated me on his own seat and then sat
by my side. After the usual salutations and inquiries the calean
(pipe), was introduced, then coffee in china cups placed within silver
ones, then calean, then some rose-water syrup, then calean. Observing
the windows of stained glass, I began to question him about the art of
coloring glass, observing that the modern Europeans were inferior to
the ancient in the manufacture of the article. He expressed his
surprise that Europeans, who were so skillful in making watches,
should fail in any handicraft work. I could not help recollecting the
Emperor of China's sarcastic remark on the Europeans and their arts,
and therefore dropped the subject. On his calean--I called it hookah
at first, but he did not understand me--I noticed several little
paintings of the Virgin and child, and asked him whether such things
were not unlawful among Mohammedans. He answered very coolly 'Yes,' as
much as to say, 'What then?' I lamented that the Eastern Christians
should use such things in their churches. He repeated the words of a
good man who was found fault with for having an image before him while
at prayer, 'God is nearer to me than that image, so that I do not see
it.' This man, I afterwards found, is like most of the other grandees
of the East, a murderer.
"On the 30th of May, our Persian dresses were ready, and we set out
for Shiraz. The Persian dress consists of first, stockings and shoes
in one; next, a pair of large blue trousers, or else a pair of huge
red boots; then the shirt, then the tunic, and above it the coat, both
of chintz, and a great coat. I have here described my own dress, most
of which I have on at this moment. On the head is worn an enormous
cone made of the skin of the black Tartar sheep with the wool on. If
to this description of my dress I add that my beard and mustachios
have been suffered to vegetate undisturbed ever since I left India;
that I am sitting on a Persian carpet, in a room without tables or
chairs, and that I bury my hand in the pillar (rice), without waiting
for spoon or plate, you will give me credit for being already an
accomplished Oriental.
"At ten o'clock on the 30th our califa began to move. It consisted
chiefly of mules with a few horses. I wished to have a mule, but the
muleteer favored me with his own pony; this animal had a bell fastened
to its neck. To add solemnity to the scene, a Bombay trumpeter who was
going to join the embassy was directed to blow a blast as we moved off
the ground; but whether it was that the trumpeter was not an adept in
the science or that his instrument was out of order, the crazy sounds
that saluted our ears had a ludicrous effect. At last, after some
jostling, mutual recriminations and recalcitrating of the steeds, we
each found our places and moved out of the gate of the city in good
order. The residents accompanied us a little way, and then left us to
pursue our journey over the plain. It was a fine moonlight night, the
scene new and perfectly oriental, and nothing prevented me from
indulging my own reflections. As the night advanced the califa grew
quiet; on a sudden one of the muleteers began to sing, and sang in a
voice so plaintive that it was impossible not to have one's attention
arrested. Every voice was hushed.
"These were the words translated:
Think not that e'er my heart could dwell
Contented far from thee,
How can the fresh-caught nightingale
Enjoy tranquility?
Oh, then forsake thy friend for naught
That slanderous tongues can say,
The heart that fixeth where it ought
No power can rend away.
"Thus far our journey was agreeable. Now for miseries. At sunrise we
came to our ground at Ahmedu, six parasangs, and pitched our little
tent under a tree; it was the only shelter we could get. At first the
heat was not greater than we had felt in India, but it soon became so
intense as to be quite alarming. When the thermometer was above 112
degrees, fever heat, I began to lose my strength fast; at last it
became quite intolerable. I wrapped myself up in a blanket and all the
warm covering I could get to defend myself from the external air, by
which means the moisture was kept a little longer upon the body, and
not so speedily evaporated as when the skin was exposed. One of my
companions followed my example and found the benefit of it. But the
thermometer still rising, and the moisture of the body being quite
exhausted, I grew restless and thought I should have lost my senses.
The thermometer at last stood at 126 degrees. In this state I composed
myself and concluded that, though I might hold out but a day or two,
death was inevitable. Captain ---- continued to tell the hour and
heights of the thermometer, and with pleasure we heard of it sinking
to 120 degrees, 118 degrees, etc. At last the fierce sun retired and I
crept out more dead than alive. The next day we secured some comfort
from a large wet towel wrapped about the head and body. At sunset,
rising to go out, a scorpion fell upon my clothes. The night before we
found a black scorpion in our tent, that made us uneasy, so we got no
sleep."
June 9 Mr. Martyn arrived at Shiraz, the celebrated seat of Persian
literature, and at once began work upon his translation with the
efficient help of Mirza Seid Ali Khan. In this work he had many
interruptions, being himself an object of attention and curiosity. He
received many calls, and unwilling to lose any opportunity of
benefiting the inhabitants of Shiraz, was never inaccessible to them.
He says, "June 17, in the evening, Seid Ali came with two Moollahs,
and with them I had a very long and temperate discussion. One of them
read the beginning of John in Arabic and inquired very particularly
into our opinions respecting the person of Christ, and when he was
informed that we did not consider His human nature eternal nor His
mother divine, seemed quite satisfied, and remarked to the others,
'how much misapprehension is removed when people come to an
explanation.'"
"June 22. The Prince's secretary called to talk about Soofeeism. They
believe they know not what. He thought to excite my wonder by telling
me that I and every created being was God.
"June 26. Two young men from the college came, full of zeal and logic,
to try me with hard questions such as, whether being be but one or
two? What is the state and form of disembodied spirits? and other
foolish and unlearned questions ministering strife. At last, one of
them discovered the true cause of his coming by asking me bluntly to
bring a proof of the religion of Christ. You allow the divine mission
of Christ, said I, why need I prove it? Not being able to draw me into
an argument they said what they wished to say, namely, that I had no
other proof for the miracles of Christ than they had for those of
Mohammed, which is tradition. 'Softly' I said, 'You will be pleased to
observe a difference between your books and ours, when by tradition we
have reached our several books, our narrators were eye witnesses;
yours are not, nor nearly so.'
"In the evening Seid Ali asked me the cause of evil. I said I knew
nothing about it. He thought he could tell me, so I let him reason on
till he soon found he knew as little about the matter as myself. He
wanted to prove that there was no real difference between good and
evil; that it was only apparent. I observed that the difference, if
only apparent, was the cause of a great deal of misery.
"June 30, Sunday. Preached to the Ambassador's suite on the 'Faithful
Saying.' In the evening baptized his child. Zachariah told me this
morning that I was the town talk." Indeed Shiraz was stirred to its
depth by the presence of Mr. Martyn during the whole year of his stay.
Men of every kind, especially the learned and zealous, came singly and
in groups almost every day to argue and dispute against Christ. Now it
was a party of Armenians, now learned Jews, now a prince, now a
general, now the very Moojtuhid himself, the professor of Mohammedan
law. This great dignitary invited Mr. Martyn to his house, where for
hours he talked on and on, defending his Prophet and showing his
learning; he was greatly annoyed at any difference of opinion, and
decided it was "quite useless for Mohammedans and Christians to argue
together, as they had different languages and different histories."
But fearing Mr. Martyn's influence he was stirred to write a defense
of his faith, which was said to surpass all former treatises on Islam.
He concludes it in these words, addressed to Mr. Martyn: "Oh, thou
that art wise! consider with the eye of justice, since thou hast no
excuse to offer to God. Thou hast wished to see the truth of miracles.
We desire you to look at the great Koran: that is an everlasting
miracle." Mr. Martyn replied, showing why men are bound to reject
Mohammedanism; that Mohammed was foretold by no prophet, worked no
miracles, spread his religion by means merely human, appeals to man's
lowest and sensual nature, that he was ambitious for himself and
family, that the Koran is full of absurdities and contradictions, that
it contains a method of salvation wholly inefficacious, sadly
contrasting with the divine atonement of Jesus Christ. The Prince's
nephew, hearing of the attack on Mohammed, said, "the proper answer to
it is the sword."
Mr. Martyn writes, February 8: "This is my birthday, on which I
complete my thirty-first year. The Persian New Testament has been
begun and finished in it. Such a painful year I never passed, owing to
the privations I have been called to, on the one hand, and the
spectacle before me of human depravity on the other. But I hope I have
not come to this seat of Satan in vain. The Word of God has found its
way into Persia, and it is not in Satan's power to oppose its progress
if the Lord hath sent it."
The Psalms in Persian was finished by the middle of March.
On the 23d Mr. Martyn writes: "I called on the Vizier. In the court
where he received me, Mirza Ibraheem was lecturing. Finding myself so
near my old and respectable antagonist, I expressed a wish to see him,
on which Jaffier Ali Khan went up to ascertain if my visit would be
agreeable. The master consented, but some of the disciples demurred.
At last, one of them, observing that by the blessing of God on the
master's conversation I might possibly be converted, it was agreed
that I should be invited to ascend. Then it became a question where I
ought to sit. Below all would not be respectful to a stranger, but
above all the Moollahs could not be tolerated. I entered and was
surprised at the numbers. The room was lined with Moollahs on both
sides and at the top. I was about to sit down on the floor but was
beckoned to an empty place near the top, opposite to the master, who,
after the usual compliments, without further ceremony, asked me, 'What
we meant by calling Christ, God?' War being thus unequivocally
declared, I had nothing to do but stand upon the defensive. Mirza
Ibraheem argued temperately enough; but of the rest, some were very
violent and clamorous. The former asked 'if Christ had ever called
himself God--was he the Creator or a creature?' I replied, 'The
Creator.' The Moollahs looked at one another. Such a confession had
never before been heard among the Mohammedan doctors.
"One Moollah wanted to controvert some of my illustrations by
interrogating me about the personality of Christ. To all his questions
I replied by requesting the same information respecting his own
person. To another, who was rather contemptuous and violent, I said
'If you do not approve of our doctrine, will you be so good as to say
what God is, according to you, that I may worship a proper object?'
One said, 'the author of the universe.' 'I can form no idea from these
words,' said I, 'but of a workman at work upon a vast number of
materials. Is that a correct notion?' Another said, 'One who came of
himself into being.' 'So then he came,' I replied, 'out of one place
into another, and before he came he was not. Is this an abstract and
refined notion?' After this no one asked me any more questions, and
for fear the dispute should be renewed Jaffier Ali Khan carried me
away."
When we think of the bigotry and intolerance of these people and of
Mr. Martyn's unflinching courage single-handed and alone, declaring
the truth and preaching Christ, exposed to the greatest personal
danger, contempt and insult, but unabashed, he stands before the world
during his Shiraz residence as one of the bravest and grandest heroes
that has ever lived. Such a spectacle is thrilling and sublime. God
was with him to protect him and to inspire his magnificent
confessions. A figure-head in history! A sight for angels and for men!
Faithful found
Among the faithless, faithful only he,
Unshaken, unseduced, unterrified,
His loyalty he kept, his zeal, his love.
And God was with him to cheer and comfort, and we rejoice to know that
some of the scenes of his life in Shiraz were quiet and restful. At
one time a tent was pitched for him in a garden in the suburbs of the
city.
Living amidst clusters of grapes by the side of a clear stream and
frequently sitting under the shade of an orange tree, which Jaffier
Ali Khan delighted to point out to visitors, until the day of his own
departure, he passed many a tranquil hour, and enjoyed many a Sabbath
of holy rest and divine refreshment.
He says: "Passed some days at Jaffier Ali Khan's garden with Mirza
Seid Ali, Aga Baba, Sheikh Abul Hassam, reading at their request the
Old Testament histories. Their attention to the word and their love
and respect for me seemed to increase as the time for my departure
approached. Aga Baba, who had been reading St. Matthew, related very
circumstantially to the company the particulars of the death of
Christ. The bed of roses on which we sat and the notes of the
nightingales warbling around us, were not so sweet to me as this
discourse from the Persian."
The plain of Shiraz is covered with ancient ruins, and contains the
tombs of the poets Zaadi and Hafiz.
A vision of the bright Shiraz, of Persian bards the theme;
The vine with bunches laden hangs o'er the crystal stream;
The nightingale all day her notes in rosy thicket trills,
And the brooding heat-mist faintly lies along the distant hills.
About the plain are scattered wide in many a crumbling heap,
The fanes of other days, and tombs where Iran's poets sleep;
And in the midst, like burnished gems, in noonday light repose
The minarets of bright Shiraz,--the City of the Rose.
One group beside the river bank in rapt discourse are seen,
Where hangs the golden orange on its boughs of purest green;
Their words are sweet and low, and their looks are lit with joy,
Some holy blessing seems to rest on them and their employ.
The pale-faced Frank among them sits; what brought him from afar?
Nor bears he bales of merchandise, nor teaches skill in war;
One pearl alone he brings with him--the Book of life and death,--
One warfare only teaches he,--to fight the fight of faith.
And Iran's sons are round him, and one with solemn tone
Tells how the Lord of Glory was rejected by his own;
Tells from the wondrous gospel of the trial and the doom,--
The words divine of love and might,--the scourge, the cross, the tomb.
Far sweeter to the stranger's ear these eastern accents sound,
Than music of the nightingale that fills the air around;
Lovelier than balmiest odors sent from gardens of the rose,
The fragrance from the contrite soul and chastened lip that flows.
The nightingales have ceased to sing, the roses' leaves are shed,
The Frank's pale face in Tocat's field hath mouldered with the dead;
Alone and all unfriended midst his Master's work he fell,
With none to bathe his fevered brow, with none his tale to tell.
But still those sweet and solemn tones about him sound in bliss,
And fragrance from those flowers of God forevermore is his;
For his the meed, by grace, of those who rich in zeal and love,
Turn many unto righteousness, and shine as stars above.