CHAPTER III

Persian Mohammedanism—Mohammed—Founding of Islam—Shiahs and Sunnis—Laxity distinguished from infidelity—Central doctrines of Islam—The Divine Unity—The prophethood—Behāī view of the prophethood—The Bab—The Behāu’llah—Behāīism—Its prospects—Islam—Predestination—Repentance—Savābs—Eating with unbelievers—Charge of pantheism—Effect of Islam on character.

We have seen that the Yezdis have long been accustomed to have in their midst professors of three distinct religions, the Jewish, the Zoroastrian and the Mohammedan. But as the Jews are neither numerous nor influential, and the Zoroastrian Parsis, though more numerous than the Jews, are nevertheless not more than a tithe of the population, the religion that chiefly demands our attention is Mohammedanism, which is the established faith of Persia. The Mohammedanism of Persia is not quite the same as that of India or Turkey, and the Persians call themselves Shiahs[61] or nonconformists. In Persia there is one creed of nonconformity which is there accepted as orthodox, so those professing this creed will for the future in these pages be called Shiahs without further qualification.

It must, however, be remembered that the name Shiah is not properly confined to this one sect, and also that this sect itself, like other nonconformist bodies, has always shown a great tendency to subdivide. In Persia besides Shiahs, that is the more orthodox Shiahs, there has always been one other smaller sect of Mohammedans attracting general attention. At present the dissenting doctrine most widely taught is that of the Behāīs, who have laid hold of the popular imagination, partly because of their great steadfastness under the most terrible persecutions, partly because of the somewhat popular nature of their teaching, but chiefly because Persia is now being brought into rather closer touch with Europe, and the people as a whole feel that the teaching of the Shiah mullas needs to be modified if Islam is to be preserved. I think one may go further, and say that there is at present in Persia a period of enquiry and spiritual awakening, which gives a special opportunity, not only to[62] Mohammedan sectaries, but also to Christian missionaries. Later on further allusion will be made to these Behāīs, but we must not forget that our first task is not so much the study of the complex religious systems of Persia, as the analysis of those religious influences to which the Yezdi has been subjected.

The ordinary Yezdi Mussulman is descended partly from the original Aryan inhabitants of Persia, and partly from their Arabian conquerors: but the enormous difference in character that exists between him and the purely Aryan Parsi is certainly due less to race and more to religion, for the jadīds, or converts from Parsiism, often develop all the Mussulman characteristics in a few generations, without the slightest admixture of race. So before attempting to describe the character of the people, it will be necessary to pay as much attention to the religious ideas that have been brought to bear upon them as we have already paid to the nature of their country and the seclusion of their town life. Some aspects of the Yezdi’s religion will be left to a future chapter, and we must at present content ourselves with trying to understand the essential nature of Islam, particularly dwelling[63] on those points of Mohammed’s teaching and example which seem to have produced most impression on the Persian mind. To do this we must divest ourselves of all pre-judgments of the prophet’s life and doctrine, and simply study the facts of history, remembering that the conception of Islam which is to be found amongst the Sunnis of India and Turkey cannot be allowed to pass unchallenged, for the Mohammedan world is by no means unanimous about it; and also that the well-known European theory, that there was a difference in Mohammed’s aims and objects in Mecca and Medina, and that the Meccan period rather than the Medinan indicates the essential idea of Mohammedanism, is one which no educated Mussulman would for a moment tolerate. As for the still more favourable views that have been lately brought forward by European authors, I can only pass on a story that was told me of an educated Mussulman in India who had been shown such a treatise. “This gentleman, Sahib,” he said, as he handed back the volume, “appears to know very little about his own religion, and absolutely nothing about ours.”

I myself went to Persia with the intention of making the most of the good points of the[64] religious systems of the country. With regard to the Parsis I was not disappointed. Like many other missionaries, I started with the idea that I should find these people possessed of a great many radically wrong notions about the nature and power of God, which were essential to their religion. I now believe that I was wrong, and I have never heard my right-hand man, Mihraban, who is himself a Parsi, and also one of the most sincere and earnest Christians whom I have ever met, speak one word against the real groundwork of Zoroastrianism. In this religion it is not unteaching but teaching that is required to lead the people to Christ; but, in Mohammedanism, in spite of its greater pretensions, almost every apparent truth crumbles into mere truism or actual falsity the moment that you try to make it the basis of anything practical. Also the more I read of the life of Mohammed, the more convinced I am that the radical rottenness of the system is due to his original teaching. Perhaps this may be a confession of narrowness, but one cannot be broad all round. Unless we are going to deny the iniquity and wickedness of modern Islam, we shall have to believe that somebody is to blame; and, if it is not Mohammed, I[65] suppose it must be either the mullas or the Mussulman laity. I do not know why we should expend all our breadth on the big people: I myself have some sympathy with the little ones: and I firmly believe that the difficulties in the Islam of to-day are due rather to the essential wrongness of the system than to its corruption by the masses.

Mohammed was born in Mecca towards the end of the sixth century. He was a member of the important family who had charge of the Ka’aba, which was a heathen temple that the Meccans had attempted to make a common meeting-ground for the whole of Arabia, by including within its limits the idols and symbols of worship that were respected by the different tribes. Some of these tribes had adopted Christianity and Judaism; so pictures even of Jewish and Christian saints were to be found within the walls of the Meccan temple.

The Mussulman historians of Mohammed’s life tell us that there had been in Arabia, for some years before the prophet came forward, a set of reformers called Hanīfs, who seem to have been half political and half religious, but to have been all of them convinced that some form of religion, purer than that represented by the Ka’aba, was[66] needed to unite Arabia against its common foes. Some of these Hanifs ended by adopting Christianity or Judaism; others were inclined to the adoption of a more essentially national form of monotheism, which should retain the Ka’aba as its centre. The most notable of the latter party was Zaid ibn Amr, a man so much admired by Mohammed that he declared him a prophet, and in other ways professed his complete acceptation of his principles and teaching.

Mohammed by his marriage with Khadīja was certainly introduced into this set of reformers. Waraka ibn Nawfal was one of the most prominent Hanifs, and we have indisputable evidence that he was one of Khadija’s most intimate friends, both at the time of her marriage, and also at the time when her husband received his first revelation. Mohammed himself had been from childhood of a hysterical disposition, and was subject to fits, during which he saw visions, which on recovering consciousness he was able to recollect; consequently while in this company he became convinced that he was the expected prophet who was to bind Arabia together by a politico-religious system.

In placing himself at the head of the Hanif[67] movement, Mohammed probably gave more prominence to the political aspect than had most of the former and less successful leaders. This is brought out by Koelle in his life of Mohammed; and indeed it is obvious that the man who could allow an unbelieving friend, even though a close relation, to play the important part in the building of his church that Abbās played in the second meeting on the eminence, was primarily a politician rather than a religious reformer: for it was Abbas who on that occasion first proposed the oath that may almost be called the basis of Islam. A critical study of Mohammed’s early dealings with the Arabians brings us to a similar conclusion.

Of the other stories collected by Koelle from Mussulman sources to prove this point, perhaps the most forcible is that of the discussion between the prophet, his uncle, Abu Tālib, under whose protection he was then living, and Abu Jahl. Abu Talib called his nephew and said to him, “Thou seest the nobles of thy people are assembled here to concede to thee certain things, and, in return, to receive concessions from thee.” Mohammed made this reply: “Well, then, give me a word whereby the[68] Arabs may be governed and the Persians subjugated.” Abu Jahl responded to this request in the name of his fellow-elders by saying: “Thou shalt have ten words.” But Mohammed setting him right, and indicating what kind of word in his opinion could alone answer the purpose, rejoined: “Say, ‘There is no God except Allah!’ and renounce what you worship besides Him.” This story Koelle quotes from Ibn Ishāk, the earliest and most trustworthy biographer.

Certainly the movement from paganism to monotheism, which took place in Arabia in those days, was in itself a fine thing; and it was accompanied by much sincerity and religious zeal. It is also obvious that Mohammed possessed a personality peculiarly attractive to the Arabian, and that this, as well as his enthusiasm on the subject of his mission, had the effect of attracting many to the cause.

But not only did Mohammed pay much more regard to politics than can be possibly excused, he also accepted the religious and ethical teaching of the Hanifs only in the most superficial manner; and, under the cover of verbal conformity, retained as much as possible of the original pagan ideas in which he had been reared. The result is that his[69] followers are still to be found possessed of what seems at first sight to be correct doctrine upon fundamentals, and yet are unable to advance by its assistance along the path of light and progress.

The popular idea, that fanatical intolerance of all professors of other religions is an essential and fundamental principle in Mohammedanism, cannot be maintained. The paganism of Mecca was distinctly latitudinarian, so Mohammed accepted in full the sacred books of the Jews and Christians, as would have seemed natural to an Arabian of that age, especially to a monotheistic teacher who was closely connected with the Ka’aba. This does not mean that he in any way apprehended the meaning of Judaism and Christianity. The doctrine of the perpetuity of the moral law never seems to have entered into his mind, even in the most elementary form. He wished to say that he had himself received a revelation superseding all former ones by the mandate of God, and he did not wish to make trouble by pronouncing other religions to be false, without absolute necessity. His real object was to unite the Arabs by a reformed religion, and at first he regarded his mission as a purely national one. Whatever were his ultimate designs[70] upon the Jews and Christians in Arabia, he intentionally conveyed to them the impression that, if they recognised him as a prophet to others, he would be content without their accepting him themselves. Indeed, while he was still at Mecca, he was even uncertain whether the idolaters who accepted him might not be allowed to retain some of their idols as intermediaries between themselves and Allah. He went so far on one occasion as to actually effect a reconciliation on this basis; but as such a concession must have greatly damaged his influence with those who were favourably disposed to the Hanif movement, he afterwards repudiated the transaction, and declared that he had acted under the influence of the devil. His work in Mecca was not very successful; and the opposition he encountered was so strong that he had at last to begin to make attempts to start work in some other place, and he was finally successful in making a fresh beginning in Medina. Here he was able to take advantage of a family connection with some of the principal citizens, and also of a long-standing rivalry between Medina and Mecca. Although the movement in Mecca had not been widely successful, Mohammed had gathered amongst his followers[71] several really prominent men. Consequently, the people of Medina, although divided on the subject of his prophetic mission, were unanimous as to the advisability of receiving him and his followers into their town. Settled in Medina, Mohammed’s fortunes underwent a change. The chieftancy of the tribe to which his grandmother had belonged fell vacant, and, as most of the members of this tribe had become Mussulmans, Mohammed had no difficulty in himself becoming their chief. Considering himself restrained by no preconception or former revelation of the moral law, he was able, without dropping for one moment his pretensions to prophethood, to use every means of fraud and violence which seemed conducive to his political end. As Koelle has pointed out, there is no reason to suppose that his principles in any way changed, but under the altered conditions and environment the utterly non-ethical theory of revelation held by the prophet became more apparent. This is perhaps most clearly brought out by his utterly unscrupulous dealing with the Jews, and also by the story of Zaid and Zainab, in all which affairs Mohammed professed himself to be acting under Divine direction, nor is it at all obvious[72] that he did not actually believe it. Finally, before his death, he succeeded in establishing his religion and political system throughout the whole of Arabia.

Of course it was impossible for a movement like this to take place without rival prophets appearing in other parts of the country. Two of these appeared during Mohammed’s lifetime, and he thought it best to guard against future schisms of a similar kind by declaring himself the last of the prophets. Exactly what he meant by this is not very clear: if the almost universal voice of Islam is to be accepted, he did not mean that he was the last divinely appointed teacher, for all Mussulmans look forward to the coming of a Mehdi or Mahdi, who, together with Jesus, the son of Mary, is to appear in the last days, and spread the doctrines of Islam throughout the world. Orthodox Mussulmans, however, always look upon Mohammed as the last great sāhibi kitāb, or book-bearer.

The ordinary Sunnis, who are the largest and best-known Mussulman sect, assert that, as a matter of fact, since the time of Mohammed, no divinely-appointed teacher has as yet appeared. The Khalīfs were in their eyes simply appointed[73] by the congregation, and the four great writers of the sunnat, which is to them the only authoritative commentary upon the doctrines of Islam, were only learned and saintly men. Now, they hold, these doctrines can only be learnt from this book, and from the Qurān itself; for the mujtahid or high mulla, capable of giving authoritative decisions on moot points, no longer exists.

The Shiahs have very different tenets. Mohammed according to their teaching was the first of a hierarchic dynasty of thirteen, consisting of himself and the twelve great Imāms, of whom the first was Ali, the son-in-law of the prophet, and who were all as certainly divinely appointed as Mohammed himself. Mohammed is only the last great book-bearer, and therefore the founder of the present era. The last of the Imams was the Mehdi, who according to the Sunnis has not yet been born, but according to the Shiahs appeared long ago. This man did not die, but disappeared, remaining at first accessible to his followers through the medium of four successive Bābs, or gates of knowledge, who were in touch with him during his concealment. Like the Imams, the Babs came to an end, for the last[74] of them refused to appoint a successor. All this of course is very ancient history.

The Shiahs have their own traditionists, for they reject the sunnat altogether. Between the traditions of the Shiahs and the Sunnis there is not much to choose: there is a certain amount of historical fact embodied in both, and there is also a great deal of absolute nonsense. However, many otherwise orthodox Shiahs either reject the traditions altogether, or interpret them allegorically. There is more freedom of interpretation amongst the Shiahs than amongst the Sunnis: indeed many Shiahs believe that some of the most objectionable chapters of the Quran describing the delights of heaven are entirely parabolic. Of course with mujtahids (supposed to be able to pronounce authoritatively on moot points) scattered all over Persia, the fixity of doctrine that prevails amongst Mohammedans of Sunni countries would be impossible.

The tenets of the Shiahs are not derogatory to the mission of Mohammed, or to the position of the Quran, but they make the solitary figure of the prophet stand out much less prominently. For instance, if a Persian is told that his religion possesses nothing corresponding to the vicarious[75] sacrifice of Christ, he will invariably reply by pointing to the martyrdom of the Imam Husain. Also the Mehdi, or occult Imam, is not the future, but the present ruler of Islam; and so he is in some ways as important a personage as the original prophet. Not very long ago the Shah of Persia used to pay rent for his palace to the Mehdi, the money going to the mujtahids as the representatives of the Imam: I do not know whether this practice is still continued, but the theory on which it was based is certainly not extinct. Again there is a common saying that the Imam Ali is present in the heart of the true believer, but I think it is only regarded by the ordinary Yezdi as a poetical expression. The point to be noted is that the saying is always about Ali, not about Mohammed. Shiahs invoke the Imams Ali and Husain very much more frequently than they invoke Mohammed; and though the inscription over a Persian mosque should be, “Yā Ali, Yā Muhammad,” that is, “O Ali! O Mohammed!” the “Yā Muhammad” is often omitted and the “Yā Ali” left to stand alone. The excuse is sometimes brought forward that Mohammed is too great for constant invocation. Considering the way in which the Shiah[76] uses the name of God, this must, I think, be regarded as a mere excuse for a habit due to wholly different causes.

This extreme attachment to the Imams is probably due to two things. In the first place, there can be no doubt that the cause of Ali and his sons was taken up in Persia as an outlet to national jealousy, for the Aryan converts were not sorry when a pretext occurred for differentiating themselves from the majority of their Arab conquerors. In the Shiah religion the early Khalifs, who ruled Islam while the holy Imams were still alive, are held up to the bitterest execration, and Omar in particular, who, by the way, was the conqueror of Persia, takes much the same place in the Shiah system that Judas Iscariot does in the Christian.

SMALL SQUARE IN YEZD.

To the left is a small Nakhl, and in the centre a mosque door with the inscription “Ya Ali.”

Secondly, the influence of sects of mystics, professedly Mohammedan but having in their doctrines a distinctly pantheistic tendency, must be remembered. Ancient Persia was full of pantheism, and when it became Mussulman the inclination towards such teaching still continued, for the broader views held by the Shiahs as to freedom of interpretation in reading the Quran gave a possible status in the country to very[77] heretical sects. These Persian mystics often preferred to make the Imams, especially Ali, at least as prominent in their systems as Mohammed, whose teaching was more difficult to bend to their purposes; and although the ordinary Yezdi is certainly not a pantheist, they have undoubtedly intensified his enthusiasm for the personalities of the Imams, and through their poetry they have familiarised him with religious expressions of a somewhat unorthodox character. This is in some ways an advantage to the missionary, but he must beware that it does not give him a false view of the progress that he is making.

As to the theory of the divinely appointed Imamate it might be urged that the retention of the whole glory of the early sainthood for the close relations and descendants of the prophet is an excess of zeal that Mohammed would have greatly approved. However this may be, the doctrine is not obviously opposed to Mohammedanism.

The Shiahs are certainly much laxer than the Sunnis with regard to some of the commandments of the Qurān. Painting, and the making of figures is considered by the Sunnis to be a violation of the law against idolatry. There is, however, a regular[78] school of Persian painting; and clay models of men, animals and demons, as well as rag dolls, are given to the children as toys. The protests made by the mullas against these things are very faint. They are rather louder in their denunciations of all forms of music, which amongst orthodox Mohammedans is supposed to have no purpose but the exciting of the passions. As to the drinking of wine and spirits, the avoidance of the regular Mohammedan fast in the month of Ramazān, and the omission of the prescribed prayers, the Shiah mullas take a view which is at least intelligible. To begin with, such things do not amount to infidelity unless they are done wilfully and consistently. A formal acceptation of the whole of the ordinances is demanded. There must be no drunkenness in the streets, no eating in Ramazan when anybody is near unless a legitimate excuse can be brought forward, and if prayers have not been said men must say that they have said them. Further than this external government does not go; and as a matter of fact many irreligious Persians secretly drink themselves drunk in their houses, forget to say their prayers regularly, and make up what would, if true, be valid excuses for not keeping the fast in Ramazan. Such people are well aware[79] that they are liable to punishment, but they also know that, unless they prove disloyal to Islam by accepting some other faith, they are not in any great danger. It is true that every now and again the mullas incite the people to join them in cleansing the land of infidelity, and on such occasions sectaries like the Babis, and those who are supposed to sympathise with them, may greatly suffer, but those who have been merely lax in their observance of Islam are apt to make up for their past deficiencies by a peculiar show of zeal.

It may be asked whether the mullas in Persia are justified in making no more persistent efforts to enforce Mohammedan law, and whether their winking at such irregularities is not in itself disloyalty to the system of Islam. Probably it would be easy for them to show that they were justified by the example of Mohammed himself. If Mohammed enforced a much stricter discipline in the town where he was himself present—a matter which I think is open to doubt—it would be almost impossible to maintain that he caused such discipline to be enforced among the Arab tribes. These tribes were generally accepted through the medium of their chief, who usually came to Mohammed in person, had a short[80] interview with him, part of which was devoted to political subjects, and often went back to his tribe on the same day. It is true that Mohammed made a distinction between hypocrites—munāfiqīn, and true believers, but he generally meant by hypocrites people who were not really on his side against others, and here the ordinary Shiah is unimpeachable.

The fact is that Islam contains much more than an assortment of commandments. Otherwise it would never have impressed its adherents in so distinct and remarkable a manner with special characteristics. The central idea of the religion is that we are all under the dominion of an invisible and absolutely powerful God, Who has created all things, and has willed and ordained everything both good and evil that is to be found in the universe. It is true that there is a Shiah dogma against the extreme predestinarianism which characterises the Sunni creed, but I do not believe that it has in the least affected the fatalistic view of the ordinary people. In Islam God may be called good because it is our duty to accept as good whatever He does, and He may also be called by other names according to the character of His known actions towards us; but His own nature is[81] absolutely different from that of man; consequently nothing can be known of His moral character beyond the fact of certain explicit actions. This God from time to time sends to the world prophets, whose duty is to teach mankind the doctrine of His unity, the necessity of worship, and the necessity of doing what is for the time being His will. According to the popular opinion there have been a hundred and forty-four thousand of these prophets, but of this number only a few have been authorised to publish a new code of human duty. Those so authorised are known as book-bearers, and Adam, Seth, Enoch, Abraham, Moses, David, Jesus, and Mohammed were all of this class. The Behāīs add the name of Behāu’llah after that of Mohammed. These book-bearers are always marked by the possession of some sort of supernatural powers appealing to the intellect, and also, in the case of the latter ones, by the fulfilment of signs mentioned by the former prophets. Obedience to them is rewarded by various degrees of bliss in Heaven, disobedience is punished by Hell. The prophet must conform to previous revelations in the assertion of God’s unity, invisibility and omnipotence, but it is not necessary that there should be any coherence between the[82] directions about human action as set forth in successive dispensations, nor is any difference made between ceremonial and moral commandments.

This central doctrine of Mohammedanism concerns God, the prophet, man and creation; so we come across it under four names, giving the four possible points of view. First of all there is the name of tauhīd, or assertion of the Divine unity. The Mussulman means by this very much more than the mere assertion that God is a single Being. He includes in it the doctrine of the invisibility of God and of His absolutely separate nature, and it appears to clash with the Christian conception in two important particulars. There is an absolute denial of the statement, upon which most Christians more or less consciously base their belief in the perpetuity and absolute nature of the law of human morals, that “in the image of God created He man.” Consequently we shall afterwards find that in Islam there is no belief in the permanency of the moral law, for nothing is thought by the Mussulman to be necessarily permanent except things connected with the nature of God; and as our nature differs entirely from that of the Creator the law given for it cannot be necessarily permanent.[83] There is also in reality a fundamental contradiction of Christian doctrine in the Mohammedan’s rendering of the statement that God is a single Being. This is best explained by a simple illustration. Supposing a man were to say, “London is one place,” it is conceivable that he might mean one of two things. Either he might mean that the City of London was the only true London, and that there was no other part of the town in Middlesex or Surrey that ought to be called by the same name; or he might mean that the whole of those places which go by the name of the County of London are in reality only one place; and these two statements are not similar statements with a slight difference, but they are absolutely contradictory. So the Christian says there is only one God, by which he means to assert the unity of the all-good Creator, the all-good Personality Who was revealed as the Son, and the all-good Spirit Who is the only source of good in the heart. As God to the Christian means the All-good, what he needs is a doctrine that asserts the essential unity of the All-good wherever he finds it. The Christian is of course not a pantheist, but his conception of the one God has to be sufficiently inclusive to cover[84] those Three Who, as he knows, certainly possess the attributes of Deity. The Mussulman on the other hand does not pretend to know anything about the attributes of Deity, excepting that God is one, invisible and omnipotent. Consequently he frames his definition of the Deity so as to purposely exclude what the Christian with his larger knowledge knows to be the manifestation of the same essence.

To pass on to the Mussulman’s conception of his religion as it relates to the prophet. The paighambarī, or the bringing of messages from the Deity, is in many ways a peculiar idea. Mohammed himself had very little notion of his message being an advance on what had been given before, and of the gradual growth of revelation he had no conception at all. He was content to assert that his teaching was the religion of Abraham, a phrase of which he frequently made use. It is true that Mussulmans sometimes say that parts of God’s Word were revealed to former paighambars, but that the complete commandment was given to Mohammed, and although this is very different from the Christian doctrine of the growth of revelation, it might possibly be regarded as a substitute for it; but the fact is[85] that, though it may be traceable to the prophet, it is quite foreign to the essential system of Islam. We frequently find such foreign ideas which have been imported into Islam, occasionally by Mohammed but more frequently by his followers, simply to answer some specific objection, or to maintain the superiority of the system over all others. Such importations can as a rule be easily separated from the essential doctrines of Islam, and in most cases they have not affected the general character of the religion. This is due to the religion as first conceived by Mohammed having been clear in its essential points, and it is these points rather than the accretions that have left such a strong mark upon the body of Mussulmans. The paighambari, more than any other doctrine or expression of doctrine, brings out with intense plainness the fundamental distinction between the Mussulman and the Christian, that enormous divergence of view regarding the moral law which lies at the root of almost all their differences in subordinate theories and tenets. So when we are discussing the influence of Mohammedan ideas upon character, it is well to remember that sects which do not hold this theory of the paighambari ought to be regarded separately.

[86]

There are in Persia sects which are only nominally Mussulman, and which largely owe their origin to non-Mohammedan sources. The Sūfis, for instance, are only half Mohammedan, and their philosophy is really pantheistic. Sufis are to be found in Yezd, but there are not very many serious ones, and the sect has largely lost its direct influence in the country. But the Babis, of whom the Behāī branch is rapidly spreading everywhere throughout the Persian towns, have been influenced by Sufi ideas to a much greater extent than have the orthodox Shiahs, who, we agreed, are not pantheistic. Perhaps some professing Behāīs are really very near to the Sufis in ideas, but this is not the case with the more orthodox, who, though they have modified the fundamental doctrines of Mohammedanism in such a way as to remove the gulf between God and the prophet, have not produced a theology which is free from the obvious defects of that of Islam. The Behāī appears to hold that the superior prophet, that is, the book-bearer, is in every case an incarnation of the Deity, but he goes on to say that there is an absolute distinction between the prophet and his people; for the book-bearer is God, and the[87] people are not God; nor are they, so far as I can understand, capable of receiving the Spirit of God, either from the prophet or directly from God Himself. They can only be impressed by the prophet as wax is impressed by a seal. Whether this doctrine is really Behāu’llah’s or not, it was certainly given to me by men who ought to have known the truth about the Behāī faith.

The adherents of this sect in Persia are now exceedingly numerous, and many people believe that in the end the whole country will become Behāī; so the question whether the Behāīs are more reliable than the orthodox Shiahs has become an important one. Certainly they teach a cleaner and purer doctrine on points of ethics; but what Persia needs is not so much a higher moral teaching, but rather a higher basis for morality. A religion that puts the commandment not to steal on the same level as the direction not to stew your dates but to fry them, will never produce the high characters that are to be found in such communities as the Parsi. It would be irreverent to compare such a faith with the religion given to us by the Saviour.

During the late Behāī massacre, I had the[88] opportunity of discussing what was going on with a Behāī muballigh, that is, an authorised Behāī teacher and missionary. I have no intention of unnecessarily dwelling on the ghastly horrors that were then being perpetrated, but a few details are unavoidable. The Behāī sectaries were not at that time being executed before the mujtahids, but were being torn in pieces by the crowd. What had excited the people was not simply religious feeling, but it was very largely the statement by the clerical authorities that the goods of the Behāīs were “lawful,” that is, that any one might plunder them who cared to do so. The attacks were often made by men who had lived for a long while in close companionship with the Behāīs, knowing them all the time to be members of the sect, and yet consorting and eating with them freely. Holes were bored in the heads of some of these poor wretches with awls, oil was then poured into the hole and lighted. Other forms of torture were used about which one cannot write. Women and children were very seldom actually killed, but were fearfully ill-treated, and sometimes left to die of starvation. It was reported that in one of the villages Babi[89] children died within full sight of the villagers, after waiting for days under the trees where their murdered parents had left them.

The Behāī muballigh with whom I was talking was certainly well aware, in a general way, of what was going on; yet I could not get him to see that these things, done in the name of religion to his own sect, were in themselves wrong, and that man’s eyes had been opened, or could be opened, to their essential wrongness. Of course he maintained that the action of the Mussulmans was evil, but his reason was that, in the first place, those persecuted were spiritually right, and, in the second place, even had they not been so, the last book-bearer, the Behāu’llah, had promulgated a Divine commandment that there was to be no religious persecution. I then asked him if such persecution could again become lawful if another book-bearer appeared and promulgated a different commandment. He answered that it was impossible for another book-bearer to appear for a long period. I then asked him if he would accept a new book-bearer, who, besides satisfying the other conditions, exhibited a text in one of the previously received Scriptures, stating that one day in God’s sight is as a thousand[90] years. He replied that, if such a verse could be shown, and the other conditions were satisfied, such a man might be accepted to-morrow, even although he taught a doctrine similar to that of Mohammed about religious persecution and other matters of the same sort.

Now there are three points to be noted by those who expect great things of the Behāī movement. First of all, the Behāīs accept the whole of the Jewish and Christian Scriptures, which, of course, include a verse of the kind above mentioned. Secondly, they have already had three book-bearers; the Bab, who was the original founder of the Babi sects, and who not only exhibited a Divine book, but also claimed to be the resurrection of Mohammed in the same way that Mohammed was the resurrection of Jesus; Subhi Azal, whom for some years they recognised as the Bab’s successor; and lastly, Behāu’llah, whom the Behāīs now hold to be the only major prophet of the three. Thirdly, the Behāīs, in attempting to prove that the Bab was a lesser prophet and a mere forerunner of the Behāu’llah, and also that Subhi Azal was never a really great personage, have seriously falsified their records. The reader who desires further information[91] on this subject cannot do better than consult Professor E. G. Browne’s admirable introduction to his translation of the Tārīkhi Jadīd.

The Bab, who came forward rather less than a century ago, was a young Shirazi Persian, a Seyid of the merchant class, whose real name was Ali Mohammed. The Shaikhi sect were at that time predicting the appearance of a great religious leader, and the Bab came forward claiming to be this prophet. He called himself the Bab, or Gate of Knowledge, and was at first supposed by his followers to be the Gate of Access to the Mehdi; but he seems to have used these terms in a very broad and allegorical fashion, and to have held the doctrine of the essential unity of all book-bearers. He later declared himself to be the Mehdi, and also to be the Gate of Access to One Whom God should manifest.

The movement caused a great deal of fighting in Persia, and though the Babis were acting on the defensive, there is very little doubt that they had harboured political designs. The Bab, however, differs from Mohammed in having been, so far as we can judge, primarily a religious reformer, and having done his best to make the movement as spiritual as possible. His followers[92] were treated with the most barbarous severity, and he himself was after a few years put to death. Before this he appointed Subhi Azal, one of his followers, to be his successor, and for a few years this man was received as “He Whom God should manifest.” Later on, Subhi Azal’s half-brother, the Behāu’llah, managed to get himself accepted as head of the sect. Many of the followers of Subhi Azal were assassinated, and the sect was re-organised with some important differences. It now purports to be absolutely non-political, and the teaching has become more simple and practical. The Behāīs are anxious to retain the use of the Quran, so as to preserve their claim to toleration, although they imagine that the law of the Quran no longer stands, its place having been taken by a later revelation. Partially to avoid inconsistency in this matter, and partially to keep before the minds of the Mussulmans the possibility of one really divine book being replaced by another, they encourage the reading of all the Scripture considered divine by Mohammedans, that is, not only the Quran, but also the whole of the Christian Bible, nor do they generally call the authenticity of the extant version in question.

[93]

Behāīism is obviously an attempt to adapt Islam to the exigencies of modern circumstances, taking advantage of the special tenets of the Shiahs. The North of Persia is being at present rapidly overrun by Russia, and even in the South the Persian feels that he is on the eve of political changes. The Behāīs consider that they have a creed which enables them to meet the foreigner without continual jar and offence. In this they are right, for they do not veil their women, they do not consider infidels unclean, and they go further than does the broadest Shiah in the matter of respect to other forms of faith. Some orthodox Shiahs accept the Jewish and Christian Scriptures as they stand, without pressing the story that the Jews and Christians altered their books to suit their own purposes. Almost all Persians are open to argument on this point, though most will say that to those possessed of the Quran the perusal of former Scriptures is unnecessary. But the Behāīs hold that, unless started by a real prophet, no religion can possibly survive, and consequently they allow to even the grossest forms of idolatry a divine origin, and the possession of a certain substratum of truth.

In Persia there can never have been that[94] almost impenetrable wall of dogmatic assertion and self-assurance which seems to exist in many Sunni lands, but something of the kind is to be found throughout Islam. As the self-satisfaction of the Behāī is almost as strong as that of the Sunni, and infinitely stronger than that of the Shiah, it seems a paradox to say that Babiism has given us in Persia a prepared soil for missionary work. The fact is that the field prepared is not amongst the Babis themselves, but amongst the Shiahs who have been in touch with Babis, and are nevertheless unconvinced. Consequently it is a field which cannot be expected to last for ever, but of which advantage ought to be taken immediately, for it is very seldom that we find so exceptional an opportunity given to us for attacking Mohammedanism on its own ground.

In Yezd the Behāīs have attached to themselves many of the most enlightened Mussulmans. The teaching of the sect about behaviour and practice is not bad, though, in matters connected with women, there is an inclination to adopt customs that are rather dangerous considering the low moral atmosphere. The tendency to minimise the miraculous element in religion is not altogether wholesome, and some professing[95] Babis are inclined to a rather crude rationalism, the end of which it is difficult to foresee. This tendency is perhaps fostered by the peculiar manner of interpreting the sacred books, a method difficult to describe, as it fluctuates between the wildest flights of metaphor, and the lowest depths of puerile literalism, the balance between the two being decided by a very determined preconception of what ought to be. To give a specimen of this, it was seriously urged in a Behāī pamphlet, reviewed and summarised by the Rev. W. A. Rice in the Church Missionary Intelligencer, that Isaiah xxv. 6-9, where God is described as making “unto all people a feast of fat things, a feast of wine on the lees, of fat things full of marrow, of wines on the lees well refined,” refers to the entertaining of visitors by Behāu’llah during his banishment at Acre. The “wines on the lees well refined” are the tea, which Persians generally pour through a small strainer. The passage also refers to the fact that God “will swallow up death in victory,” and will “wipe away all tears from off all faces; and the rebuke of His people shall He take away from off all the earth.” To this part only a spiritual interpretation is given.

I tried before I left Persia to find out the[96] impression that the sect had made upon other Europeans, so as not to give a one-sided opinion about them. Personally, I came to the conclusion that, in matters even remotely connected with religion, they were less truthful than the ordinary Shiah, but that in the ordinary affairs of life they were a trifle more reliable. Some other missionaries had a lower opinion of their truthfulness, and most of those who had had business dealings with them considered that they were not more trustworthy than ordinary Mussulmans. My conclusion is that, though they may succeed in establishing their creed in Persia, and may even make the Persians more easy to deal with, they will not greatly alter the moral character of the people. They have not done so hitherto, and an examination of their faith shows that they cling, in the main, to the Mussulman theory of the paighambari, or at any rate have not changed it for a doctrine which gives a man more cogent reasons for adhering to an approved line of conduct in times of difficulty.

The name given in Mohammed’s system to the state of the true believer is Islām, which means “Resignation to God.” By this the Mussulman seems to understand that he must[97] not criticise the prophet, whatever he may do or teach, and that in the same way he must accept everything that happens as the will of God. A waiving of personal responsibility, and an acceptance of all occurrences as the Divine intention, is to the Persian an undoubted virtue. The steadfast pursuit of a purpose which has been thwarted will often appear to him actually vicious, although such persistency might be justified in his eyes by its success, which would prove it to have been in harmony with God’s will.

The word which expresses the duty of the believer being Islam, or resignation, the corresponding word used by the Mussulman to describe his theory of the course of events is taqdīr, or predestination. There is, as I have said, in Shiah dogma an attempt to modify the extreme predestinarian doctrines of the Sunni. But these doctrines are so much an integral part of Mohammedanism that it is impossible for the Mussulman, Shiah or otherwise, to be anything but a gross fatalist. This then completes the list of names under which the essential and fundamental conceptions of Islam are taught, Tauhid, Paighambari, Islam, and Taqdir.

There are also in Mohammedanism certain[98] other doctrines which seem to be part of the system, but which are not quite so fundamental as those that have been stated. Some of these are not quite plain: it is very difficult, for instance, to understand what was Mohammed’s teaching on the forgiveness of sins, and there is great confusion of thought on this point amongst his followers. Certainly an infidel becoming a Mussulman has his sins forgiven, though he does not expect to receive any peculiar strength for the future, but only a direction as to what God wants him to do and to avoid. After this the motives of his actions will be khauf u jizā, that is to say, the fear of Hell and the expectation of Heaven. He will have to be punished in Hell for his sins according to their assessed value, unless he has previously wiped them out, either by savābs, that is, by works of merit, or by repentance. Repentance of a real kind is supposed to have a certain value, though it is hard to state exactly what that value is. Formal repentance, which does not in the mind of the common Persian necessarily involve the giving up of such fruits of sin as stolen articles, has also a certain value. But the most efficient way of atoning for sin is by savabs. Finally no Mussulman, at any rate among the Shiahs, would[99] consider it justifiable to hold himself free from the fear of Hell.

Punishment in Hell according to the Mussulman idea is not necessarily everlasting, for most of the Persians believe that, by the intercession of Mohammed, all his people will finally get to Heaven. But in Heaven there are many grades, and the position of the individual will be determined by the relative weight of his savabs and sins. Properly, a savab is a work of supererogation considered as possessing merit; but the word is often used less exactly for any action which will be put to the account of a man as a good deed. I believe that Persian Mohammedans when using this word almost universally accept the view that the performance of a certain number of approved actions makes it less necessary to adhere to the path of duty. Also, to put it crudely, the good deed is not regarded as the gift of God to man, but as the gift of man to God; and I feel convinced that the word is bound up with the assumption that Heaven-seeking or the fear of Hell are the only possible motives for right behaviour.

The ordinary Yezdi has no doubt that a non-Mussulman can do a savab, especially if he benefits[100] a Mussulman; and the belief that such a man if he was a Jew or a Christian, could get to Heaven, would not be considered very heretical.[4] Some Yezdis might allow that idolaters could get to Heaven by savabs, but this would be considered a more dangerous doctrine. The fact is that there was in Mohammed’s essential teaching a very large amount of latitudinarianism, and this comes out in the common ideas of Mussulmans who are not repressed by a system such as that of the Sunnis.

The merit of an action is decided by the intention of the doer and not by its result. This is brought out by a native story, framed for the purpose.

“One day a traveller came to a well, where he dismounted, fastened his animal to a pin, and satisfied his thirst. As he returned to his animal it occurred to him that it would be a savab to leave the pin behind, for other travellers who might wish to tether their beasts. The next to arrive at the well was a man on foot, who, being very thirsty and in a hurry, fell over the pin.[101] This man threw the pin down the well, so as to prevent any one else from having a similar accident. A learned man in the neighbourhood was asked which of the two did the savab, the man who left the pin or the man who threw it away. He answered, ‘Both, for their intentions were equally good.’”

That there is truth in this teaching is obvious, but the story ignores the necessity of taking thought and pains, so that one’s impulses may not do more harm than good. This is always ignored in Persia, and I think I am right in putting it down to the teaching connected with the use of the word. Large sums of money are given for the poor, and yet the alleviation of poverty is very small; and the same sort of thing happens in other branches of philanthropy. The gift once given, the donor loses all interest in its bestowal; funds are squandered on the most paltry objects, and the general effect seems to be that money given in this way becomes money wasted. Charity is also much vitiated in Persia by unpractical, and in many cases superstitious ideas. To give alms to a Seyid is a greater savab than to help an ordinary beggar, so a large proportion of the philanthropy of Persia goes to support a begging class, who are in[102] every way a burden, and in some ways a danger to society. The Seyids are also more lightly punished, and consider themselves outside the reach of the very small amount of justice that exists. Again, it is more meritorious to give on a Thursday, as the eve of the Friday holiday, or on the eve of a feast, than on an ordinary day; and lastly, the people expect that they will amass more merit by giving microscopic sums to all comers than by giving more effective assistance to a limited number.

As I have said, the doctrine connected with savabs acknowledges only two motives of action, the fear of punishment and the expectation of reward, and it is not allowed that any other motive can possibly exist. Persian women are very inquisitive, and one day some of them were questioning the ladies of the Yezd mission as to what they ate for breakfast. When it transpired that the others ate eggs and one did not, the remark was immediately made, “You see she is trying to get a higher place in Heaven.” At another time when my wife was trying to explain to some women that we do not look to works of merit to secure salvation, she was met by the answer, “But the Hakīm Khānum (lady doctor)[103] does; or why should she have taken all that trouble about the Seyid’s wife when she was ill?”

Shiahs often consider that by letting others do a savab for them they confer a favour greater than they themselves receive. One might imagine that this would only apply to benefactors who agreed with their religious notions; but even if you can convince a Shiah that you do not believe in the possibility of winning Heaven by savabs, he will reply, very logically, that your want of faith does not prevent the fact being true, and that it is absurd to expect him to be grateful because of your unbelief in facts. I remember trying to make a very badly-behaved youngster, who was in the school under my charge, see that we had some reason to expect more gratitude from him, as we had really taken great trouble with him, and Christians did not think it necessary to do such things for the sake of their future welfare. His answer was that if we did not consider that savabs were necessary Mussulmans did.

Savabs are not necessarily good actions, but almost all actions which are directly kind are included in the term. So although the doctrine connected with savabs is not in every way a good[104] thing, it still has a certain value. Of course it is true that men who are anxious to do big savabs in order to wipe off the sins of very evil lives generally choose non-ethical ones. During the late Babi massacre a soldier found a Yezdi who was dragging about another man, and trying to make out whether he was really a Behāī. “You see,” he said, “I have been a wicked man all my life, and have never said my prayers or done any other savabs, so, unless I can do a big savab, I shall certainly go to Hell. If this man is a Babi, I mustn’t let him go, for if I kill an infidel of course I shall go straight to Heaven.” Nevertheless the ordinary savab is a kind action, and in the idea of their efficacy we get something almost corresponding to a moral principle. Sometimes indeed the Persian’s conception of a work of merit tends to correct and check the worse commandments of his code. For instance, although the killing of a Babi as an infidel may be considered a savab, the saving of a life, even if it is the life of the same Babi, may also be held a meritorious act of a different kind.

That the Persian’s notions as to what constitutes an act of merit are a saving clause in his religion I have no doubt at all. I am, however,[105] not quite certain whether this saving clause properly belongs to Mohammedanism, for it bears on the face of it a family likeness to the doctrines of superior systems, and it will not quite fit into the system of Islam. The rest of the Shiah ideas about Heaven, Hell, the efficacy of savabs, and repentance, seem to be really Mussulman, though everything is not quite coherent. Perhaps the fact is that in these points Mohammed was an opportunist, and taught any doctrine which he thought would make people obedient to his law. He was careful not to expect too much, and, while keeping his followers as long as possible in a state of uncertainty as to their salvation, he tried never to shut the door on hope. So it is questionable whether either the teaching of the Quran, or the ideas of the Persians on these subjects, could possibly be presented in a quite consistent form.

I have tried to enumerate in this chapter just those doctrines which form the original philosophy or theology upon which everything in Islam rests, and to show that not only does the ordinary Shiah Yezdi accept them in toto, but that, with the one small exception that has been stated, all his fundamental beliefs are to be found in this category.[106] Of course these ideas are a much more serious part of a religion than is a code of commandments that is not believed to be permanent. Indeed it is quite possible that greater laxity in the observance of such a code may be due to a juster appreciation of the notions with which it was promulgated. To say that Persia has not been greatly influenced by Mohammedanism because the Persians get drunk in their houses, is shallow criticism. It is still shallower to imagine that the fact that some of the Shiah ordinances are in themselves laxer than the Sunni makes it plain that Persians are less Mussulman than Turks and Indians.

For instance, the Shiahs have a custom of temporary marriages, according to which it is lawful for a man, besides the four regular wives allowed by Islam, to have as many inferior wives as he likes, contracting these marriages for any length of time he pleases, from a few days upwards. There is, however, a legal fiction by which these women are supposed to be lowered to the rank of slaves, which ought to entirely remove the Sunni objection; for, unless it can be proved that the temporary ownership of a slave is impossible, it is very difficult to understand why[107] this evasion should not be considered quite legitimate according to the undoubted principles of Mohammedanism. That there is a certain amount of latitudinarianism in Shiah Islam is indisputable, but so there is in the whole of Mohammed’s teaching and practice.

As a matter of fact his attitude towards Jews and Christians, and even towards the idolaters, was largely opportunist. At one time he made leagues with the Jews, promising that they should not be disturbed in their religion; at other times he picked quarrels with them, and put every one who would not accept Islam to the sword. This latitudinarianism has found its way into the Quran itself, where a verse is to be found telling Mohammedans that they may eat the food of “the people of the book,” that is, of the people holding religions whose origin he recognised as divine. The strict Shiahs in Yezd interpret this as meaning dry food. They make a great distinction between wet and dry; only a few years ago it was dangerous for an Armenian Christian to leave his suburb and go into the bazaars in Isfahan on a wet day. “A wet dog is worse than a dry dog.” Nevertheless, there are great differences of opinion on this[108] point, and most non-clerical Shiahs would take tea at any European’s house. There was a Shiah woman who used to freely take tea at the house of a Christian lady, the lady herself making it and pouring it out, but she refused to use the tea-glasses used in the same house by Babi women. Another Shiah lent a donkey for a Christian lady, but told her that he could not use it again if she allowed her Parsi nurse to ride upon it. And yet it is more easy to get the Mussulmans to eat food with the Parsis than with the Jews, whose religion ranks higher than Zoroastrianism in the popular regard, though they themselves are specially despised by the Mohammedans. This curious mixture of breadth and bigotry is only explicable on the assumption that the Shiah’s main ideal is exactly that opportunist position which was taken up by Mohammed during his lifetime.

Perhaps we ought not to leave this subject without discussing rather more fully the assertion which has been made about the Persian Shiahs, that they have changed the doctrine of the unity of God for a loose pantheism, and have dethroned the Quran for the utterance of Sufi poets. That the Persians as a race have an extreme veneration[109] for Sufi poetry, which contains expressions of questionable orthodoxy, cannot well be called in question; but before discussing the more serious part of the allegation, it is necessary to thoroughly understand about whom it is stated; for there are small Shiah sects, of whom it is quite true that they are only half Mussulman, but these are very different from the sect which is at present predominant in Persia, and which in Yezd at any rate does not appear to lack veneration for the Quran. One point, however, must be granted, and that is, that all Persian Mussulmans, orthodox or otherwise, are often led to express acquiescence in a statement which appears to be in itself correct, however opposed it may be to the general tenor of their other beliefs. The fact is that they do not easily see a contradiction, and this has made it possible for the Shiah to accept poetry which he would otherwise have absolutely rejected. I do not myself know a single Christian doctrine to which I could not get most Shiahs to agree, if I was careful to state it in language with which they were familiar, and not to dwell on its divergence from the Mussulman idea.

But doctrines so allowed to pass, whether[110] Christian or Sufi, would have no strength against the system of Islam, which most Yezdis have grasped as an integral whole. The general plan of Mussulman doctrine, constructed as it was for inhabitants of a desert, is peculiarly comprehensible to people like the Yezdis, who are accustomed to isolated objects and ideas, and are slow at grasping a too elaborately connected argument. For the system of Islam is not elaborately connected: that there is a general consistency in it, is true, but the consistency is like that of a certain housewife’s accounts, in which a large number of items were entered under the heading of “forgets.” The accounts were true and accurate, but they were not highly instructive. Similarly in Islam a large variety of commandments have been labelled, “commandments for the age of Moses,” or “commandments for the age of Mohammed,” and the doctrine of the paighambari is so formulated as to make further systematisation unnecessary. This being a scheme of arrangement which a Persian can understand, it has laid hold of his mind to a peculiar degree. Phrases and expressions that are opposed to it, he will often accept, but their influence on his behaviour is exceedingly small. The thing which[111] dominates him, and will, unless explicitly resisted and combated, always continue to dominate him, is Islam and Islam alone.

Before going on to discuss in another chapter some other important aspects of the Yezdi’s religion, it will be well to consider how the whole Mussulman theory has affected his character. First of all, it has made him even more disposed to unconnected and disjunctive views of life than he would otherwise have been. This becomes plain when we compare him with his fellow-townsmen who have been in touch with other religions. Secondly, we find that he possesses a very low view of the value of morality, which in Mohammedanism has no unique place, but is only one of the ways of attaining salvation. Another way is through accuracy of religious observance, and, when a Persian takes to this, he generally abandons any attempt to live straight. Residents in the country are well aware of this, and are justly inclined to distrust a man who is very particular about his prayers and ceremonial duties.

I must ask the reader to pardon me if I have said in this chapter anything which appears disrespectful to Mohammedanism. In trying to[112] record facts and to correctly weigh impressions, one cannot avoid frankly stating what has been forcibly brought before both mind and eyes, even though the things stated may not be exactly what they are expected to be. The fact is that Islam has ruined Persia; and it is not fair to the real character of the people to underrate the effect that this religion has produced on them. As to Mohammed, I believe that I have stated nothing about him which is not a matter of common knowledge. Doubtless the author who starts with the determination to write an interesting and sympathetic book, will be able, by selecting his incidents, to convey a more favourable impression, just as a criminal lawyer may be able to find much in favour of even a guilty client; but the historical critic who starts on the examination of Mohammed’s history without any pre-judgment must necessarily find it difficult not to come to a very unfavourable conclusion. The Arabian prophet headed a monotheistic movement which had started without him, and which would have probably succeeded to a very large extent whether he had touched it or not, and to this movement he did a great deal of damage without making any serious ethical contribution. It may[113] be readily admitted that Mohammed was an attractive person, and that he possessed other great gifts, one of which was unusual eloquence. He seems to have been an enthusiast who in his worst moments absolutely believed in himself and in his mission, and there is no doubt that he drew into his company, both by persuasion and violence, men who might have looked askance at a more spiritual leader. But those who want to know what Islam does for a people who accept it had better compare the Yezdi Mussulman with the Yezdi Parsi. The Parsis have a curious and interesting religion, the main point of which seems to be the belief that God has created all things of the four elements, and that He therefore expects from all His creatures a reverential and sympathetic treatment of one another. The religion is Gospelless, it is coated over with gross superstitions, and it has the very great defect of being so elementary in its teaching that there is a strong tendency amongst its professors to deny revelation altogether, and to become simply rationalists. For all this the Zoroastrian Parsi possesses, as a rule, a strong moral character, which, when he becomes a Mohammedan, is almost always lost in a few generations. Unfortunately,[114] the Behāī movement is just now attracting a large number of Zoroastrians, and is becoming a serious danger; for the Behāī, whatever he may say to the contrary, is really a Mussulman, and his system, in which opportunism takes the place of the doctrine of the growth of the moral law, retains most of the more serious defects of Islam. However, as the majority of the Yezdi Parsis are not likely to become Behāīs, it is a matter for congratulation that any European power that may have to solve the problem of establishing good government in Southern Persia will find ready to hand a considerable community of this intelligent and interesting people in at least one of the Persian towns.