14. Persian Character

Persian Character

Chapter IV Of the Persians, generally, it may be said that they are pre-eminent among the nations of the east for their intellectual qualities, while their moral character exhibits a compound of the most odious defects. It would be hard to deny them a sound understanding; and their possession of a quick imagination, a ready memory, and a happy capacity for the sciences, and the liberal and mechanic arts, has been universally acknowledged. Under the appearance of a proud indifference, they derive much information from the society of foreigners, and profit by their knowledge; they receive them kindly, patronize them, tolerate their religion, and seem generally to regard them with pity rather than with contempt. In illness and affliction they even solicit the prayers of Christians, whom they regard as infidels—which may, however, more probably be ascribed to their superstition than to their toleration.

Elegant language is much affected by the Persians in conversation; and they are very proud of introducing quotations from the works of their most distinguished poets, so that their best talk is a kind of mosaic of poetical quotations. Nor is this confined to persons of rank and education; it is common to them and the dregs of the people, because those who have had no education, and cannot even read and write, take advantage of the readiness and retentiveness of their memories to learn by heart a great number of striking passages, which they omit no opportunity of producing in conversation, not always, it must be admitted, with the happiest effect. They are also very clever at irony and punning.

Endowed with a supple and intriguing disposition, they have agreeable manners, and extreme politeness; but this politeness is little better them a jargon of high-flown compliments and hyperbolical expressions, without sense or feeling. “Your presence has made all Persia a garden”—“Persia is unworthy of your acceptance,” and such like expressions are specimens of this tendency to hyperbole and exaggeration; and however impertinent it may seem to Europeans, the neglect of such kind of compliments would seem to the Persians an omission of the common forms of politeness. What Major Scott Waring says of the people of Shiraz, is applicable in a considerable degree to the whole of the Persians—although it may be admitted that the people of the Shiraz districts afford full-blown examples of the common Persian characteristics. He says, “The people appear to me mean and obsequious to their superiors, and to their equals if they have a prospect of advantage, but invariably arrogant and brutal in their conduct towards their inferiors; always boasting of some actions they never performed, and delighted with flattery, although they are aware of the imposition. I have repeatedly heard them compliment a person, either in his hearing or in the presence of someone who would convey the adulation to his ears; and the instant that he has departed, their praises have turned into abuse, and they have with malicious pleasure exposed the character they have a moment before praised with fervent servility. Indeed, so loath are the Persians to admire anything from which they can derive no advantage, as to confine themselves in their expressions of admiration to Bad neest, ‘It is not bad;’ but if the property be their own, no words or description can do justice to its excellencies.” This spirit of exaggeration and insincerity is not confined to their personal intercourse with one another; it insinuates itself into public affairs, as well as into the humbler relations between man and man. Not long after the arrival of the English embassy under sir Gore Ouseley, at Teheran, the confidential secretary of the grand vizier, accompanied by Meerza Abul Hassan Khan, who had been ambassador from Persia to the British camp, came one morning in great agitation to announce a victory gained by the prince royal over the Russians. Their account was, that the Persians had killed two thousand men, and taken five thousand prisoners, with twelve guns. The real truth was soon learned, which reduced their advantage to three hundred killed, two guns taken, and five hundred prisoners. On being questioned why they exaggerated so much, when they must be certain that the real facts must speedily transpire, the ready answer was: “If we did not know that your stubborn veracity would have come in the way, we should have said ten times as much. This is the first time our troops have made any stand at all against the Russians; and you would not, surely, restrict so glorious an event in our history to a few dry facts.” A poet of Crete, quoted with approval by the apostle Paul, has left upon his people this character of infamy—“The Cretans are always liars.” It would seem incredible that this character, in all the emphasis of the expression, should be truly applicable to any people, had we not the Persians of this day to evince the possibility of this depth of degradation. To them it is applicable in the utmost force of its meaning. Philosophers have held it for a maxim, that the most notorious liars utter a hundred truths for every lie they tell. But this is not the case in Persia; the people are unacquainted with the beauty of truth, and only think of it when it is likely to advance their interests. The father of history reports of the ancient Persians, that from their fifth to their twentieth year, the children are instructed in the use of the bow, horsemanship, and a strict regard to truth. The last item of this statement has been quoted as a striking illustration of the difference between ancient and modern customs; although it maybe questioned whether the speaking of truth being so much a matter of formal instruction and acquirement, along with archery and horsemanship, does not in fact recognize the ancient existence of the national tendency to untruthfulness. Be that as it may, the Persians are not now even taught to speak truth. “There does not, I am ready to believe,” says a recent missionary, “exist a country where society approaches more nearly to that (which moralists have sometimes imagined) of a community where truth is unknown, than in Persia; and the only reason why there does not exist a corresponding want of confidence, is, in good part, the inherent vanity of the Persians, which “makes them willing to be deceived. I learned for myself, long before leaving the country, that my only security was, to act upon the supposition that every man was unworthy of trust.” This, as he justly observes, is not merely the impression to which passing travelers reach, but is the settled conviction of old residents in the country, who have had much opportunity of knowing people in all conditions of life. The same opinion he quotes as that of “a pious and intelligent gentleman, who had resided twelve successive years in the country, who had travelled in every part of it, and had been conversant with all classes.”—“I have never seen a Persian whom I found, on good acquaintance, that I could safely trust.” “It is wonderful,” proceeds Mr. Southgate, “with what facility most Persians utter a falsehood. It has often seemed to me like an instinct to them. They are fully conscious of the vice, and acknowledge that it prevails everywhere among them. They perpetrate it with the utmost indifference; and, on being detected, seem to have no shame, nor any sense of having done wrong. They practice it with the most astonishing hardihood. I have heard a Persian lie, and persist in it, even against the immediate evidence of my senses. They often do it even to their benefactors.” After giving several examples of this, which any traveler in the country would extend without limit, this traveler adds: “The cause of this pernicious habit it is not difficult to trace. Some have attempted to explain it as a natural consequence of civil oppression. But this is not enough; for the same effect does not, in the same notable degree, flow from the same cause in Turkey. Its chief source is to be sought for in the native character of the Persians. Their imaginativeness of mind, and their love of the marvelous, may partly account for it in the instances of their wonderful relations. Their extreme affability and politeness, strange as it may seem, help to the same effect; for they will sometimes deceive for the mere sake of pleasing. Their vanity, also, and their love of self, are powerful auxiliaries; and their inordinate fondness for favor, gain, and emolument, leads them to make many false pretensions, and to resort to every species of trickery and fraud to serve the most trivial advantage. But that which lies below all these, and which is the root of all, is their want of conscientiousness”—a fearful indication of the depravity of the people. As might be expected in this state of things, the Persians seek to gain credence by abundant oaths and affirmations, which, at last, from frequent use, have become little more than colloquial forms of expression, which serve chiefly to garnish speech. “What we should call common swearing, is not considered a vice in Persia, nor indeed in any other eastern country; and, considering the class of men by whom such expressions are employed, it would almost seem that a man was considered the more religious according to the number of oaths he uttered. Certain it is, that one who has been in the habit of living among people where every third sentence is an oath of affirmation, dwells with peculiar refreshment of spirit upon our Lord’s injunction, “Let your communication be Yea, yea; Nay, nay; for whatsoever is more than these cometh of evil,” Matthew 5:37. Yet, let it be said, that the oaths of these poor people, upon whom the light of the gospel has not shined, although more frequent, and heard in all classes of society, are not of that frightful character which disgrace the streets of a country calling itself Christian; and a Persian, or any other Muslim, would shrink with horror from that frequent invocation of eternal perdition upon themselves and others, with which our own people are so prone to pollute their lips and to dishonor God. From the chapter of Matthew, just referred to, it appears that the Jews were in, the habit of swearing by heaven, by earth, by Jerusalem, by their head. The oaths of the Persians, if not exactly the same, are of the same complexion. They swear less by Allah (that is, by God himself) than other Muslims, or even—it is grievous to say—than Christians; but substitute very much the name of Ali. “By the king’s life,” is a very solemn oath, as among the ancient Egyptians, Genesis 42:15; “By the king’s beard,” was a very emphatic oath under the last king but one, whose beard reached to his girdle, and was held in great reverence by all his subjects; “By your head,” is also one of the commonest, as is also such as, “By your happiness.” The speaker also changes the person at his pleasure, affirming by the king’s life, by yours, by his son’s, as by that of your son, or his own son—and so of the rest, according to his pleasure. They also compliment a person by affirming by that which he is supposed to prize most highly. We remember the case of an English gentleman highly respected by the Persians, whose only child was a little daughter, and to whom persons of high consideration were in the habit of swearing, “By the blood of your daughter,” and intended it, if not as a compliment, at least as a very high and strong affirmation. From the Rev. Judkin Perkins’s Residence in Persia, we derive an extract, illustrative of the hollow complimentary habits of the Persians. The Scripture illustration with which it closes had been given some years before in a well-known English commentary, and will be nothing the worse for the corroboration of an independent authority. “In our flippant host we had a very fair specimen of Persian politeness in general. As he introduced us to our lodgings, he repeatedly declared that the whole house was no longer his but our own, and himself and all his family were our humble servants. Whenever we had occasion to ask for anything, he would respond, with a most submissive bow, and both hands covering his face, Cheshmeh (My eyes for it^[6] ); or, in Turkish, when he found we did not comprehend his Persian, Bâsh-ûstâ (Upon my head); Corban olam (May I be your sacrifice). If he did not understand us in any case, he would intimate it by a rising inflection of voice and obsequiousness of tone, peculiar to a despotic land, as though begging leave to be, Bóoyoor, janum? (Command me, my soul; that is, dear to me as my soul (life), condescend to repeat your orders). In attempting to make purchases of the Persians, as we had repeated occasion to make, on the road as also at other times, the article desired is always at the outset, peishkush, a present to you; and its owner your servant and your sacrifice. And if you request his terms, he reiterates the same assurance, until you strongly insist on his naming the price, when he at length tells you, that since you will not take the article without paying him for it, you may set your own price, for he can sell nothing to you. Name a reasonable sum, and he will flatly reply that you shall not have it for that; and by this time his interest has got so much the better alike of his modesty and generosity, that he will demand twice or thrice its known value, which you must pay or take the trouble of bating him down. This is done by simply leaving him, as he will quickly call after you to take the article at the price you have offered. I know not how often I have in imagination stood by the side of Abraham, negotiating with the sons of Heth for a place to bury his dead, when I have been purchasing the most trifling article in Persia.

[6] Rather, “Upon my eyes!”

“As illustrating eastern manners, and these in turn throwing light upon Scripture, I may quote a part of the passage which records that celebrated transaction: ‘And Abraham stood up from before his dead, and spake unto the sons of Heth, saying, I am a stranger and a sojourner with you: give me a possession of a burying-place with you, that I may bury my dead out of my sight. And the children of Heth answered Abraham, saying unto him, Hear us, my lord: thou art a mighty prince among us: in the choice of our sepulchres bury thy dead; none of us shall withhold from thee his sepulchre, but that thou mayest bury thy dead. And Ephron, the Hittite, answered Abraham in the audience of the children of Heth, even of all that went in at the gate of his city, saying, Nay, my lord, hear me: the field give I thee, and the cave that is therein, I give it thee; in the presence of the sons of my people give I it thee: bury thy dead. And Abraham bowed himself before the people of the land. And he spake unto Ephron in the audience of the people of the land, saying, But if thou wilt give it me, I pray thee, hear me: I will give thee money for the field; take it of me, and I will bury my dead there. And Ephron said unto Abraham, My lord, hearken unto me, the land is worth four hundred shekels of silver; what is that betwixt me and thee? bury therefore thy dead. And Abraham hearkened to Ephron; and Abraham weighed to Ephron the silver, which he had named in the audience of the sons of Heth, four hundred shekels of silver current money with the merchant.’ This contract exhibits less formality than business transactions commonly possess in Persia at the present time. The bereaved patriarch was little disposed to be particular, in relation to the price he should pay for a place to bury his deceased Sarah; and his neighbors would not probably be apt, in these mournful circumstances, to do what was common in trade, or fully to develop their avaricious propensities. The general resemblance to Persian transactions, however, is very striking.” In fact, the Persians, in their conversation, use such extravagant and hyperbolical compliments on the most trifling occasions, that it would at first lead a stranger to suppose that every inhabitant of the place is willing to lay down his life, shed his blood, or spend his money in his service; and this mode of address, which in fact has no more real meaning than “your obedient humble servant” at the end of a letter, is observed not only by persons of the higher rank, but even among the humblest artificers, the lowest of which will make no scruple, on your arrival, of offering you the city of Shiraz, with all its appurtenances, as a peishkushor present. “On our journey, as well as at home,” says Mr. Perkins, whose information on this point we can fully corroborate, “we frequently received presents, for which an extravagant sum is always expected in return. When the bearer approaches you, he will almost deluge you with a flood of fulsome compliments and expressions of devoted attachment, as a token of which he brings you the present, though he had never seen you before; and if you meet his wishes from your purse, he will leave you with the mellifluous stream still flowing, though a little checked, because, as he tells you, you have so mortified him by paying him anything that he can no longer look you in the face, and can scarcely utter a word; whereas, if you tender him only a fair price for the article, he will manifest the deepest displeasure, reject with disdain the proffered remuneration, and carry away his present, loading you with a copious measure of at least secret maledictions.”

It often happens, however, that if the stranger be a person of wealth or influence, the man is really anxious to force upon his acceptance an article which he happens to admire or expresses a wish to purchase. But if he should be inconsiderate enough to accept it, he will not be long in discovering that by so doing he has given the person a claim either upon his good offices or favor, or for a present of more than equal value in return.

Some travelers draw a distinction in this respect between the inhabitants of towns and villages, much to the advantage of the latter. Of this we hear, indeed, in all countries; but so far as our experience goes in different countries (including our own), this superiority of village character is not easily substantiated. It must be admitted, however, that in Persia the villagers are exempt from many of the influences which tend to produce much of the peculiar evils which have been noticed in the character of the townspeople, as well as from other influences which tend to call forth the brilliant qualities by which the latter are distinguished. On this point it would be unjust to withhold the testimony of Sir Harford Jones, whose opportunities of forming a correct judgment are undeniable. After an interval of many years, he passed, in high state as ambassador from the British crown, through a part of the country in which he had previously been known as an invalid in pursuit of health, as a merchant seeking to mix profit with pleasure, or as a fugitive from Shiraz: his impressions on the way are thus recorded:—“There was scarcely one of these places at which I had not formerly made acquaintance with some of its inhabitants in the humbler walks of life; many of them had already gone to ‘that borne from whence no traveler returns;’ but such of them as were still alive, invariably found some opportunity or other of visiting me in private; some of them attended by their children—all of them greeting me with the kindest expressions of regard and friendship, and uniformly bringing with them some little present. Some, for instance, brought a favorite kid; others, fresh butter made by their wives; others, cream cheese, or coagulated milk, of which the Persians make great use, under the name of liban.”

After observing that a friend, who kept a journal at the time, notes all these visits, as proceeding from motives of interest, and not of friendship, and ascribing this to a want of a more intimate knowledge of the Persian peasantry, Sir Harford says:—“Now I am bound to declare that there was not one of this class of visitors on whom I could prevail to accept a pecuniary return for the present he made. The general request was, for something to keep in remembrance of me—a knife, a penknife, or a pair of scissors. I hope the reader need not be told that I never accepted their favorite kid. I advert to these and such like trifling circumstances, in the hope that the disclosure of them may soften the injurious opinion formed by some persons of the Persian character, from the perusal of books, written by such as had only the opportunity of viewing them superficially, or of books written with the avowed design of amusing the idle, by the recital of absurd tales or extravagant caricature…. He who attempts to make us believe that the inhabitants of cities in Persia, and the Persian peasantry, are in moral character the same, knows little or nothing of what he is talking about; and he who imagines that the Persian peasants of Fars, Iraq, Azerbaijan, or any other province, all possess the same moral qualities, is equally ignorant. Even in this country, it is easy to perceive a distinctive difference in the manners, in the habits, and consequently in the character, of the peasants of different countries.” The Persian people generally, as regards their personal appearance, he described as a fine race of men. They are not tall, but it is rare to see any of them diminutive or deformed, and they are in general strong and active. Their complexions vary from a dark olive to a fairness which approaches that of a northern European, and if they have not all the bloom of the latter, their florid, and healthy look often gives them no inconsiderable share of beauty. As a nation they may be termed brave; though the valor they have displayed, like that of every other people in a similar state of society, has in a great degree depended upon the character of their leaders, and the nature of the objects for which they fought. Their vices are still more prominent than their virtues. Induced, by the nature of their government, to resort on every occasion to art and violence, they are alternately submissive and tyrannical. Many of the other various defects of their character may doubtless be accounted for in the same way; although we are not disposed to agree with those of their apologists, who account for all that is wrong in them from such causes. We find a deeper source in our fallen nature, which in the Persians affords that class of external manifestations which temperament, habit of mind, climate, a false religion, and, among other circumstances but not solely, a bad system of government, may excite and impose. The fallen character of our race assumes in Persia merely one of those diversified aspects in which it is manifested in various countries—the same though different; and we must not be too ready in allowing travelers and historians to deprive us of the universal evidence of man’s corruption, by referring every local or national manifestation of the universal disease to special causes and influences. But it is certain, that if we wanted to point out the one country in which more than in another, the grossest and least disguised evidence of man’s fallen estate might be found, Persia is the country we should be disposed to indicate, and the Persians the people to whom we should be inclined to refer. And yet there is much in the natural qualities and endowments of this people to justify the expectation, that in the coming time, for which we all sigh, when the abundant outpouring of the influences of the Holy Spirit shall have changed even this moral and social wilderness into a garden of God, the diadem of Persia will not be the least illustrious of the Redeemer’s many crowns. It is certainly not the least of the advantages which we may derive from the contemplation of the painful subjects which this little book presents to the reader’s notice, that it may give a fresh impulse to the earnestness of our desires after, and the heartiness of our prayers for that day in which great voices shall be heard in heaven, saying, “The kingdoms of this world are become the kingdoms of our Lord, and of his Christ, and He shall reign for ever and ever.”