"As for my nationality," I replied, "I am English. As for
my business, I am travelling for my own instruction and amusement,
and to perfect myself in the Persian language. And as for my rank,
kindly assure the Governor that I have no official status, and
am not 'distinguished' at all, so that he need not show
"Very good," answered the fire-priest, "but what brings you to Yezd? If your only object were to learn Persian, you could have accomplished that at Teheran, Isfahan, or Shiraz, without crossing these deserts, and undergoing all the fatigues involved in this journey."
"Well," I said, "I wished to see as well as to learn, and my travels would not be complete without a sight of your ancient and interesting city. Besides which, I desired to learn something of those who profess the faith of Zoroaster, of which, as I understand, you are the high-priest."
"You would hardly undergo all the fatigues of a journey across these deserts for no better reason than that," he retorted; "you must have had some other object, and I should be much obliged if you would communicate it to me."
I assured him that I had no other object, and that in undertaking the journey to Yezd I was actuated by no other motive than curiosity and a desire to improve my mind. Seeing, however, that he continued sceptical, I asked him point-blank whether he believed my word or not; to which he replied very frankly that he did not. At this juncture another visitor was announced, who proved to be Ardashir Mihraban himself. He was a tall, slender, handsome man, of about forty-rive or fifty years of age, light-complexioned, black-bearded, and clad in the yellow garments of the Zoroastrians; and he spoke English (which he had learned in Bombay, where he had spent some years of his life) fluently and well. After conversing with me for a short time, he departed with the Dastur.
Hardly had these visitors left me when a servant came from
the Seyyids to whom I had letters of introduction, to inform me
that they would be glad to see me as soon as I could come. I
therefore at once set out with the servant, and was conducted
by him first to the house of Haji Seyyid M---, who, surrounded
To go supperless to bed conduces above all things to early
rising, and by 6.30 a.m. on the following morning I had finished
my breakfast, and was eager to see something of the city of Yezd.
My servant wished to go to the bath, but the Erivani, who had
attached himself to me since I first made his acquaintance,
volunteered to accompany me. We wandered for a while through
the bazaars, and he then suggested that we should enquire of
some of the townsfolk whether there was any public garden
where we could sit and rest for a time. I readily acquiesced
in this plan, and we soon found ourselves in the garden of Dawlat-
abad, where we sat in a shady corner and conversed with an old
gardener who had been for thirteen months a slave in the hands
of the Turcomans. He had been taken prisoner by them near
the Kal'at-i-Nadiri about the time that Hamze Mirza was
besieging Mashhad (1848), and described very graphically his
experiences in the Turcoman slave-market; how he and his
companions in misfortune, stripped almost naked, were inspected
and examined by intending purchasers, and finally knocked down
About mid-day we returned to the caravansaray, and I was again forced to consider my plans for the future, for Baba Khan came to enquire whether he should wait to convey me back to Dihbid, or whether I intended to proceed to Kirman on leaving Yezd. I paid him the remainder of the money due to him, gave him a present of seven krans, and told him that, unless he heard from me to the contrary before sunset, he might consider himself free to depart.
Later in the afternoon, two Zoroastrians came to inform me that
Ardashir Mihraban, in whose employment they were, was willing
to place his garden and the little house in it at my disposal
during my stay at Yezd. It had been occupied about a month
before by another Englishman, Lieutenant H. B. Vaughan, who
had undertaken a very adventurous and arduous journey across
Persia, from Bandar-i-Linge, on the Persian Gulf, to Damghan
or Shahrud, on the Mashhad-Teheran road, and who had tarried
for some while at Yezd to make preparations for crossing the
western corner of the great Salt Desert. I of course gratefully
accepted this offer, for the caravansaray was not a pleasant
dwelling-place, and besides this, I was anxious to enjoy more
opportunities of cultivating the acquaintance of the Zoroastrians,
Haji Safar was out when this message was brought to me,
and, as I could not leave the caravansaray until I had instmcted
him as to the removal of my baggage, we were compelled to await
his return. During this interval a message came from Haji
Seyyid M---, asking me to go to his house, whither, accordingly,
on my servant's return, I proceeded in company with the two
Zoroastrians, one of whom, named Bahman, spoke English well.
On arriving at Haji Seyyid M---'s house, I was delighted
to find a theological discussion in progress. An attempt was
evidently being made to convert an old mulla, of singularly
attractive and engaging countenance, to the Babi faith. Only
one of the Babis was speaking, a man of about thirty-five years
of age, whose eloquence filled me with admiration. It was not
till later that I learned that he was 'Andalib ("the Nightingale"),
one of the most distinguished of the poets who have consecrated
their talents to the glory of the New Theophany. "And so in
every dispensation," he resumed, as soon as I had received and
returned the greetings of those present, "the very men who
professed to be awaiting the new Manifestation most eagerly
were the first to deny it, abandoning the 'Most Firm Handhold'
of God's Truth to lay hold of the frail thread of their own
imaginings. You talk of miracles; but of what evidential value
are mirades to me, unless I have seen them? Has not every
religion accounts of miracles, which, had they ever taken place,
must, one would have thought, have compelled all men to
"But this claim," said the old mulla, "this claim! It is a hard word that He utters. What can we do or say?"
"For the rest, He hath said it," replied 'Andallb, "and it is for us, who have seen that this Divine Word is His, to accept it." There was silence for a little while, and then the old mulla arose witha sigh, and repeating, "It is difficult, very difficult," departed from our midst.
Soon afterwards I too left, and, accompanied by my Zoroastrian
friends, made my way to the garden of Ardashir Mihraban, situated
at the southern limit of the town, hard by the open plain. I
found my host and the old fire-priest awaiting me, and received
from both of them a most cordial welcome. The latter
informed me with some elation that the Governor, Prince
'Imadu'd-Dawla, had, in spite of my representations (which he,
The change from the hot, dusty caravansaray to this beautiful
garden was in itself a great pleasure, and my delight was
enhanced by the fact that I was now in an environment essentially
and thoroughly Zoroastrian. My servant and the Erivani, indeed,
still bore me company; but, except for them and occasional
Musulman and Babi visitors, I was entirely thrown on the
society of the yellow-robed worshippers of fire. The old
priest, Dastur Tir-andaz, who at first seemed to regard me with
some suspicion, was quite won over by finding that I was
acquainted with the spurious "heavenly books" known as the
Desatir, about the genuineness of which neither he nor Ardashir
appeared to entertain the slightest doubt. Ardashir sat
Although of the three weeks that I spent at Yezd there was not one day which passed unprofitably, or on which I did not see or hear some new thing, I think that I shall do better to disregard the actual sequence of events in recording what appears worthy of mention, so as to bring together kindred matters in one connection, and so avoid the repetitions and ruptures of sequence which too close an adherence to a diary must necessarily produce.
First, then, of the Zoroastrians. Of these there are said to be
from 7000 to 10,000 in Yezd and its dependencies, nearly all
So much for the petty annoyances to which they are continually
subject. These are humiliating and vexatious only; but
occasionally, when there is a period of interregnum, or when
a bad or priest-ridden governor holds office, and the "lutis,"
or roughs, of Yezd wax bold, worse befalls them. During the
period of confusion which intervened between the death of
Muhammad Shah and the accession of Nasiru'd-Dfn Shah, many
of them were robbed, beaten, and threatened with death,
unless they would renounce their ancient faith and embrace
Islam; not a few were actually done to death. There was one old
Zoroastrian still living at Yezd when I was there who had been
beaten, threatened, and finally wounded with pistol shots in
several places by these fanatical Muslims, but he stood firm in
his refusal to renounce the faith of his fathers, and, more
fortunate than many of his brethren, escaped with his life.
So likewise, as I was informed by the Dastur, about twelve
years previously the Muhammadans of Yezd threatened to sack
the Zoroastrian quarter and kill all the guebres who would not
consent to embrace Islam, alleging as a reason for this atrocious
design that one of the Zoroastrians had killed a Musulman. The
On another occasion a Musulman was murdered by another Musulman who had disguised himself as a guebre. The Muhammadans threatened to sack the Zoroastrian quarter and make a general massacre of its inmates unless the supposed murderer was given up. The person whom they suspected was one Namdar, a relative of the chief fire-priest. He, innocent as he was, refused to imperil his brethren by remaining amongst them. "I will go before the governor he said "for it is better that I should lose my life than that our whole community should be endangered." So he went forth, prepared to die; but fortunately at the last moment the real murderer was discovered and put to death. Ardashir's own brother Rashid was murdered by fanatical Musulmans as he was walking through the bazaars, and I saw the tablet put up to his memory in one of the fire-temples of Yezd.
Under the enlightened administration of Prince 'Imadu'd-
Dawla, the Zoroastrians, as I have already said, enjoyed
comparative peace and security, but even he was not always able
to keep in check the ferocious intolerance of bigots and the
savage brutality of lutis. While I was in Yezd a Zoroastrian was
bastinadoed for accidentally touching with his garment some
fruit exposed for sale in the bazaar, and thereby, in the eyes of
the Musulmans, rendering it unclean and unfit for consumption
by true believers. On another occasion I heard that the wife of
a poor Zoroastrian, a woman of singular beauty, was washing
clothes near the town, when she was noticed with admiration
by two Musulmans who were passing by. Said one to the other,
"She would do well for your embraces." "Just what I was
On another occasion, however, the Prince-Governor intervened
successfully to check the following unjust and evil practice.
When a Zoroastrian renounces his faith and embraces Islam,
it is considered by the Musulmans that he has a right to the
property and money of his unregenerate kinsmen. A case of
this sort had arisen, and a sum of ninety tumans (nearly 28
pounds) had been taken by the renegade from his relatives. The
latter appealed to the Prince, who insisted on its restoration,
to the mortification of the pervert and his new friends, and
the delight of the Zoroastrians, especially old Dastur Tir-andaz,
who, when he related the incident to me, was almost incoherent
with exultation, and continually interrupted his narrative to
pray for the long life and prosperity of Prince 'Imadu'd-Dawla.
Nor was this the only expression of gratitude which the Prince's
justice and toleration called forth from the poor oppressed
guebres. One day, as he himself informed me, on the occasion
of my farewell visit to his palace, he was riding abroad accompanied
by three servants only (for he loved not ostentation)
I was naturally anxious to see some of the fire-temples,
and finally, after repeated requests, a day was fixed for visiting
them. I was taken first to the oldest temple, which was in a
very ruinous condition (the Muhammadans not suffering it to
be repaired), and presented little of interest save two tablets
bearing Persian inscriptions, one of which bore the date A.Y. 1009
as that of the completion of the tablet or the temple, I know not
which. Leaving this, we proceeded to a newer, larger, and much
more flourishing edifice, on entering which I saw, to my great
delight, in a room to the left of the passage of entry, the sacred
fire burning bright on its tripod, while around it two or three
mubads or fire-priests, with veils covering their mouths and the
lower part of their faces, droned their Zend liturgies. These
veils, as Ardashir informed me, are intended to obviate the
danger of the fire being polluted by the officiating priest coughing
or spitting upon it. I was not, however, allowed to gaze upon
this interesting spectacle for more than a few moments, but was
hurried on to a large and well-carpeted room in the interior
of the building, looking out on a little courtyard planted with
pomegranate trees. Here I was received by several of the fire-
priests, who regaled us with a delicious sherbet. The buildings
surrounding the other three sides of the courtyard were, as I
was informed, devoted to educational purposes, and serve as a
school for the Zoroastrian children. This temple was built
Leaving this, we visited a third temple, a portion of which serves as a theological college for the training of youths destined for the priesthood, who, to some extent at least, study Zend and Pahlavi; though I do not fancy that any high standard of proficiency in the sacred languages is often attained by them. The space allotted to these young theologians was not very ample, being, indeed, only a sort of gallery at one end of the chief room. At the opposite end was spread a carpet, on which a few chairs were set; and in a niche in the wall stood a little vase containing sprigs of a plant not unlike privet which the dastur called by a name I could not rightly catch, though it sounded to me like "nawa." This plant, I was further informed, was used in certain of their religious ceremonies, and "turned round the sun"; but concerning it, as well as sundry other matters whereof I would fain have learned more, my guides showed a certain reserve which I felt constrained to respect. Here also I was allowed a glimpse of the sacred fire burning in a little chamber apart (whence came the odour of ignited sandalwood and the droning of Zend chants), and of the white-veiled mubad who tended it. A picture of Zoroaster (taken, as Ardashir told me, from an old sculpture at Balkh), and several inscriptions on the walls of the large central room, were the only other points of interest presented by the building.
On leaving this temple, which is situated in the very centre
of the "Gabr-Mahalla," or Zoroastrian quarter, I was conducted
to the house of Ardashir's brother, Gudarz, between rows of
Zoroastrian men and boys who had come out to gaze on the
Firangi stranger. To me the sight of these yellow-robed votaries
of an old-world faith, which twelve centuries of persecution and
insult have not succeeded in uprooting from its native soil, was
at least as interesting as the sight of me can have been to them,
At the house of Ardashir's brother, Gudarz, I met the chief-
priest of the Zoroastrians, who was suffering from gout, and a
number of my host's male relatives, with whom I stayed conversing
till 8.30 p.m., hospitably entertained with tea, wine, brandy,
and kebabs. Wine-drinking plays a great part in the daily
life of the guebre; but, though I suppose not one total abstainer
could be found amongst them, I never but once saw a Zoroastrian
the worse for drink. With the Musulmans the contrary holds
good; when they drink, it is too often with the deliberate
intention of getting drunk, on the principle, I suppose, that
"when the water has gone over the head, what matters it
whether it be a fathom or a hundred fathoms?" To a Zoroastrian
it is lawful to drink wine and spirits, but not to exceed;
to a Muhammadan the use and the abuse of alcohol are equally
unlawful. The Zoroastrian drinks because he likes the taste of
the wine and the glow of good fellowship which it produces;
the Muhammadan, on the contrary, commonly detests the taste
of wine and spirits, and will, after each draught, make a grimace
expressive of disgust, rinse out his mouth, and eat a lump of
sugar; what he enjoys is not drinking, but being drunk, even as
the great mystical poet Jalalu'd-Din Rumi says--
The drinking-cup (jam) used at Yezd and Kirman is not a
glass but a little brass bowl. On the inside of this the
Zoroastrians often have engraved the names of dead friends and
relatives, to whose memory they drink as the wine goes round
"Sahiba-i-marhum Mirhraban ibn Rustam-i-Bahram. Har kas kar farmayad
'Khuda biyamurzl' bi-Mihraban-i-Rustam, va Sarvar-i-Ardashir, va Gulchihr-
i-Mihraban bi-dihad: haftad pusht-i-ishan amurzide bad! 1286 hijri."
"The wife of the beatified Mihraban, the son of Rustam, [the son] of
Bahram. Let every one who may make use [of this cup] give a 'Godpardon!'
to Mihraban [the son] of Rustam, and Sarvar [the son] of Ardashir, and
Gulchihr [the daughter] of Mihraban: may they be pardoned unto seventy
generations! A.H. 1286."
In drinking to the health of companions the formula (used also by Muhammadans when they drink) is "Bi-salamati-i-shuma!" ("To your health!"), the answer to which is "Nush-i-jan-bad!" ("May it be sweet to your soul!"). I had ample opportunity of learning how to drink wine "according to the rite of Zoroaster," for almost every afternoon Ardashir, accompanied either by Dastur Tir-andaz, or by his brother Gudarz, or by his manager Bahman, or by other Zoroastrians, used to come to the garden and sit by the little stream, which for a few hours only (for water is bought for a price in Yezd) refreshed the drooping flowers. Then, unless Muhammadan or Babi visitors chanced to be present, wine and 'arak were brought forth by old Jamshid, the gardener, or his little son Khusraw; fresh young cucumbers, and other relishes, such as the Persian wine-drinker loves, were produced; and the brass drinking cups were drained again and again to the memories of the dead and the healths of the living.
It was on these occasions that conversation flowed most
freely, and that I learned most about the Zoroastrian religion
and its votaries. This is not the place to deal with the subject
systematically, and I shall confine myself to noticing a few matters
which actually came under discussion.
The Zoroastrian year is solar, not lunar like the Muhammadan,
and consists of twelve months of thirty days each, and five
additional days called gata (corresponding to the Muhammadan
"khamsa-i-mustaraka") to bring the total up to 365. The year
begins at the vernal equinox, when the sun enters the sign
of Aries (about 21st March), and is inaugurated by the
ancient national festival of the Nawruz, or New Year's Day,
which, as has been already mentioned, is observed no less by the
Muhammadans than by the Zoroastrians of Persia. Each day
of the month is presided over by an angel or archangel (of whom
there are seven, called Amshaspands, to each of which a day of
the first week is allotted), save that three days, the 8th, 15th,
and 23rd of the month, are, like the first, sacred to Ormuzd.
These are holy days, and are collectively known as the Si-dey.
The following is a list of the days of the month, each of which
is called by the name of the angel presiding over it:--(1) Ormuzd;
(2) Bahman, the angel of flocks and herds; (3) Urdi-bihisht, the
angel of light; (4) Shahrivar, the angel of jewels, gold, and
minerals; (5) Sipandarmaz, the angel of the earth; (6) Khurdad,
the angel of water and streams; (7) Amurdad, the angel of trees
and plants; (8) Dey-bi-Adhar, the first of the Si-dey, sacred to
Ormuzd; (9) Adhar; (10) Aban; (11) Khir; (12) Mah; (13) Tir;
(14) Gush; (15) Dey-bi-Mihr, the second of the Si-dey; (16) Mihr;
(17) Surush; (18) Rashn; (19) Farvardin; (20) Bahram; (21) Ram;
(22) Dad; (23) Dey-bi-Din, the third of the Si-dey; (24) Din;
(25) Ard; (26) Ashtad; (27) Asman; (28) Zamyad; (29) Muntrasipand;
(30) Anaram. Of these thirty names twelve belong also to the
months, as follows:--
1. Farvardin. 7. Mihr. SPRING 2. Urdi-bihisht. AUTUMN 8. Aban. (Bahar). 3. Khurdad (Pa'iz). 9. Adhar. SUMMER 4. Tir. WINTER 10. Dey. (Tabistan.) 5. Amurdad. (Zamistan.) 11. Bahman. 6. Shahrivar. 12. Sipandarmaz.
The angel Rashn, who presides over the eighteenth day of
each month, corresponds, in some degree, to the angels Munkar
and Nakir in the Muhammadan system. On the fourth day
after a Zoroastrian dies this angel comes to him, and weighs in
a balance his good and his bad deeds. If the former are in
excess, the departed is admitted into paradise; if the latter, he
is punished--so my Zoroastrian friends informed me--by being
In general, however, I found my Zoroastrian friends very
tolerant and liberal in their views. Ardashir was never tired
of repeating that in one of their prayers they invoked the help
of "the good men of the seven regions" (khuban-i-haft kishvar),
i.e. of the whole world; and that they did not regard faith in
their religion as essential to salvation. Against the Arabs,
indeed, I could see that they cherished a very bitter hatred, which
the Dastur at least was at little pains to conceal; Kadisiyya and
Nahavand were not forgotten, and, with but little exaggeration,
the words of warning addressed to the Arabs settled in Persia
in the second century of the hijra by Nasr ibn Seyyar, the Arab
Governor of Khurasan, might be applied to them:--
From these poor guebres, however, I received more than one
lesson in meekness and toleration. "Injustice and harshness,"
said Bahman to me one day, "are best met with submission and
patience, for thereby the hearts of enemies are softened, and
they are often converted into friends. An instance of this came
within my own experience. One day, as I was passing through the
meydan, a young Muhammadan purposely jostled me and then
struck me; crying, 'Out of the way, guebre!' Though angered
at this uncalled-for attack, I swallowed down my anger, and
replied with a smile, 'Very well, just as you like. ' An old Seyyid
who was near at hand, seeing the wanton insolence of my tormentor,
and my submission and patience, rebuked him sharply, saying,
'What harm had this poor man done to you that you should strike
and insult him?' A quarrel arose between the two, and finally
both were taken before the Governor, who, on learning the truth
of the matter, caused the youth to be beaten. Now,
On another occasion I had been telling another of Ardashir's assistants named Iran about the Englishman at Shiraz who had turned Muhammadan. "I think he is sorry for it now," I concluded, "for he has cut himself off from his own people, and is regarded with suspicion or contempt by many of the Musulmans, who keep a sharp watch over him to see that he punctually discharges all the duties laid upon him by the religion of Islam. I wish him well out of it, and hope that he may succeed in his plan of returning to his home and his aged mother; but I misdoubt it. I think he wished to join himself to me and come here, that he might proceed homewards by way of Mashhad; but I was not very desirous of his company."
"It is quite true," replied Iran, "that a bad companion is
worse than none, for, as Sa'di says, it is better to go barefoot
than with tight shoes. Yet, if you will not take it amiss, would
you not do well, if you return to Shiraz, to take this man with
you, and to bring him, and if possible his Muhammadan wife also,
to England? This would assuredly be a good action: he would
return to the faith he has renounced, and his wife also might
become a Christian; they and their children after them would
be gained to your religion, and yours would be the merit. Often
it happens that one of us Zoroastrians, either through mere
ignorance and heedlessness, or because he is in love with a
Muhammadan girl whom he cannot otherwise win, renounces the
faith of his fathers and embraces Islam. Such not unfrequently
repent of their action, and in this case we supply them with
money to take them to Bombay, where they can return, without
the danger which they would incur here, to their former faith.
Often their Muharnmadan wives also adopt the Zoroastrian
religion, and thus a whole family is won over to our creed."
"I was not aware," I remarked, "that it was possible under any circumstances for one not born a Zoroastrian to become one. Do you consent to receive back a renegade after any lapse of time?"
"No," answered Iran, "not after six months or so; for if they remain Musulmans for longer than this, their hearts are turned black and incurably infected by the law of Islam, and we cannot then receive them back amongst us."
Of the English, towards whom they look as their natural protectors, the Persian Zoroastrians have a very high opinion, though several of them, and especially Dastur Tir-andaz, deplored the supineness of the English Government, and the apathy with which it regards the hands stretched out to it for help. "You do not realise," said they, "what a shield and protection the English name is, else you would surely not grudge it to poor unfortunates for whom no one cares, and who in any time of disturbance are liable to be killed or plundered without redress." After my return to England I, and I think Lieutenant Vaughan also, made certain representations to the Foreign Office, which I believe were not ineffectual; for, as I subsequently learned, a Zoroastrian had been appointed British Agent in Yezd. This was what the Zoroastrians so earnestly desired, for they believed that the British flag would protect their community even in times of the gravest danger.
Although the Zoroastrian women do not veil their faces, and are
not subjected to the restrictions imposed on their Muhammadan
sisters, I naturally saw but little of them. Twice, however,
parties of guebre girls came to the garden to gaze in amused
wonder at the Firangi stranger. Those composing the first party
were, I believe, related to Ardashir, and were accompanied by
two men. The second party (introduced by old Jamshid the
gardener, who did the honours, and metaphorically stirred me
up with a long pole to exhibit me to better advantage) consisted
of young girls, one or two of whom were extremely pretty. These
Old Dastur Tir-andaz was to me one of the most interesting,
because one of the most thoroughgoing and least sophisticated,
of the Zoroastrians. He appeared to be in high favour with the
governor, Prince 'Imadu'd-Dawla, from whom he was continually
bringing messages of goodwill to me. In three of the
four visits which I paid to the Prince, he bore me company,
standing outside in the courtyard while I sat within. My first
visit was paid the morning after I had received the lamb and the
tray of sweetmeats wherewith the Prince, on the representations
of the Dastur, already described, was graciously pleased to mark
his sense of my "distinction." Accompanied by the Prince's
pishkhidmat, or page-in-waiting (an intolerably conceited youth),
and several farrashes, who had been sent to form my escort, we
walked to the Government House, which was situated at the
other end of the town, by the Arg or citadel. The Dastur, who
walked by my side, was greatly troubled that I had not a horse
or attendants of my own, and seemed to think that my apparel
(which, indeed, was somewhat the worse for wear) was hardly
equal to the occasion. As I preferred walking to riding, and as I
had not come to Yezd to see princes or to indulge in ostentatious
parade, these considerations did not affect me in the least, except
that I was rather annoyed by the persistence with which the
Dastur repeated to the Prince-Governor that I had come chapar
(by post-horses) from Shiraz with only such effects as were
absolutely necessary, and that a telegram must be sent to Shiraz
to have my baggage forwarded with all speed to Yezd. The
Prince, however, was very good-natured, and treated me with
the greatest kindness, enquiring especially as to the books on
philosophy and mysticism which I had read and bought. I
mentioned several, and he expressed high approval of the
selection which I had made, especially commending the Lawa'ih
of Jami, Lahiji's Commentary on the Gulshan-i-Raz, and Jami's
The Prince's attentions, though kindly meant, were in truth somewhat irksome. Two days after the visit above described, he sent his conceited pishkhidmat to enquire after my health, and to ask me whether I had need of anything, and when I intended to visit a certain waterfall near the Shir-Kuh, which he declared I must certainly see before quitting his territories For the moment I escaped in polite ambiguities; but two days later the pishkhidmat again came with a request that, as Ramazan was close at hand, I would at once return with him to the Government House, as the Prince wished to see me ere the fast with the derangement of ordinary business consequent on it began. I had no resource but to comply, and after giving the pishkhidmat tea, which he drank critically, I again set out with him, the Dastur, and the inevitable farrashes, for the Prince's residence. On leaving the palace shortly before sunset, the Dastur mysteriously asked me whether, if I were in no particular hurry to get home, he might instruct the farrashes to take a more devious route through the bazaars. I consented, without at first being able to divine his object, which was no doubt to show the Musulmans of Yezd that I, the Firangi, was held in honour by the Prince, and that he, the fire-priest, was on the most friendly and intimate terms with me.
After this visit I enjoyed a period of repose, for which, as
I imagine, I was indebted to the fast of Ramazan. The Zoroastrians,
Amongst the minor annoyances which served to remind me
that even Yezd was not without its drawbacks, were the periodical
appearances in my room of scorpions and tarantulas, both of
which abound in the dry, sandy soil of this part of Persia. Of
these noxious animals, the latter were to me the more repulsive,
from the horrible nimbleness of their movements, the hideous
half-transparent grayness of their bodies, and the hairiness of
their legs and venomous mandibles. I had seen one or two in the
caravansaray where I first alighted, but, on removing to the clean
arid tidy little house in Ardashir's garden, hoped that I had done
with them. I was soon undeceived, for as I sat at supper the day
after my arrival, I saw to my disgust a very large one of singularly
aggressive appearance sitting on the wall about three feet above
the floor. I approached it with a slipper, intending to slay
it, but it appeared to divine my intentions, rushed up the wall
and half across the ceiling with incredible speed, dropped at my
feet, and made straight for the window, crossing in its course
the pyramid of sweetmeats sent to me by the Prince, over which
As regards scorpions, I killed a small whitish one in my room shortly after I had missed my first tarantula. A day or two afterwards old Jamshid the gardener brought me up another which he had just killed in the garden, and seized the occasion to give me a sort of lecture on noxious insects. The black woodlouse- like animal which I had slain at Chah-Begi he dedared to have been a "susmar" (though this word is generally supposed to mean a lizard). Having discussed this, he touched briefly on the tir-mar (earwig? ), sad-pa (centipede), and hazar-pa (millipede), concluding with the interesting statement that in every ant-hill of the large black ants two large black scorpions live. I suggested that we should dig up an ant-hill and see if it were so, but he declined to be a party to any such undertaking, seeming to consider that such a procedure would be in very indifferent taste. "As long as the scorpions stay inside," said he, "we have no right to molest them, and to do so is to incur ill-luck." So my curiosity remained unsatished.
Old Jamshid was very particular in the observance of his
religious duties, and I constantly heard him muttering his
"I was riding back from Taft to the city one evening," said
he, "when, nearly opposite our dakhme, I lost my way. As I was
casting about to discover the path, I suddenly saw a light before
me on the right. I thought it must come from the village of
Kasim-abad, and was preparing to make for it, when it suddenly
shifted to my left hand and began to approach me. It drew quite
near; and then I saw a creature like a wild pig, in front of which
flitted a light like a large lantern. I was horribly frightened, but
I repeated a prayer out of the Desatir, whereupon the thing
vanished. It soon reappeared, however, this time in the form of
a mule, preceded by a man bearing a lantern, and thus addressed
me: 'Ey adami-zad! Inja che mi-kuni?' ('O son of man! What
dost thou here?') I replied that I had lost my way. Thereupon
it pointed out a path, which, as it assured me, would lead me to
the city. I followed this path for some distance, but it only led
me farther out of my way, until at last I reached a village where
I found some of our own people. These set me in the right road,
and would have borne me company to the city, but I would not
suffer them to do so, believing that I should have no further
difficulty. On reachmg a bridge hard by the city, I again saw
I was not so much troubled at Yezd by applications for medical advice and treatment as I had feared, partly because, after my experiences at Dihbid and God-i-Shirdan, I had forbidden Haji Safar and Baba Khan to say a word about my having any medical knowledge, and partly because Ardashir would not suffer strangers of whom he knew nothing to come to his garden to see me. Once, however, when I was sitting talking to Bahman and Iran in Ardashir's office (situated on the ground floor of one of the chief caravansarays in the city), a crowd of people assembled outside to stare at me, from which a Seyyid presently disengaged himself, and asked me whether I would cure him of an enlarged spleen. I asked him how he knew that it was his spleen that was affected. He replied that the Persian doctors had told him so. "What the Persian doctors can diagnose, can they not treat?" I enquired. "Yes," he replied, "they can; but they prescribe only two remedies, sharab and zahrab*, of which one is unlawful and the other disgusting." I finally told him that I could not undertake to treat him without first examining him, and that if he wished this he must come and see me in Ardashir's garden. He never came, however; or, if he did, he was not admitted.
The Zoroastrians are, as a rule, good gardeners, and have
some skill in the use of simples. From Ardashir and his
gardener, Jamshid, I learned the names and supposed properties
of many plants which grew in the garden. Unfortunately the
little botanical knowledge I ever possessed had grown so rusty
by long disuse that often I was unable to supply the English
* Wine and urine.
I have alluded to the dialect spoken amongst themselves by
the Zoroastrians of Persia, and by them called "Dari." This
term has been objected to by M. Clement Huart, who has
published in the Journal Asiatique several valuable papers on
certain Persian dialects, which he classes together under the
name of "Pehlevi-Musulman," and regards as the descendants
of the ancient Median language preserved to us in the Avesta.
The chief ground of his objection is that the description of the
Dari dialect given in the prolegomena of certain standard Persian
dictionaries does not at all agree with the so-called Dari spoken
by the guebres of Yezd and Kirman. Personally, I confess that
I attach but little importance to the evidence of the Persian
lexicographers in this matter, seeing that it is the rarest thing
for an educated Persian to take any interest in local dialects, or
even to recognise their philological importance; and I shall therefore
continue provisionally to call the dialect in question by the name
given to it by those who speak it. That it is closely allied to the
This Dari dialect is only used by the guebres amongst themselves, and all of them, so far as I know, speak Persian as well. When they speak their own dialect, even a Yezdi Musulman cannot understand what they are saying, or can only understand it very imperfectly. It is for this reason that the Zoroastrians cherish their Dari, and are somewhat unwilling to teach it to a stranger. I once remarked to Ardashir what a pity it was that they did not commit it to writing. He replied that there had at one time been some talk of translating the Gulistan into Dari, but that they had decided that it was inexpedient to facilitate the acquisition of their idiom to non-Zoroastrians. To me they were as a rule ready enough to impart information about it; though when I tried to get old Jamshid the gardener to tell me more about it, he excused himself, saying that a knowledge of it could be of no possible use to me.
The following is a list of the Dari words and phrases which
I collected at Yezd:--
Hamushtudwun, to arise (shortened in speaking to hamushtun); imperative,< hamusht; present tense (1 sing.) hamushtude' or hamushtudem; (2 sing.)
hamushtudi, (3 sing.) hamushtud, (1 plur.) hamushtudim, (2 plur.)
hamushtudid, (3 plur.) hamushtu-dand. Wotwun,to say; imperative, ve-va; past tense, am-vut, ud-vut or t'ad-vut, osh-vut or inoshvut, (plur.) ma-vut or ma-ma-vut, do-vut, sho-vut.
Don't talk= vuj khe ma-ku' (khe= khud, self; ma-ku'= makun, do not do or make). Graftun, to take; ashnuftan, to hear; didwun, to see; kushtwun to strike. Venodwun, to throw. "Turn (lit. throw) the water into that channel," "Wow de o ju ve-ven" (wow = water; de = to, into; o = that). Nashte' or nashtem, I sat; (2 sing.) nashti; (3 sing.) nasht; (1 plur.)
ma-nashtun. Imperative (2 sing.) unik; (2 plur.) unigit.
Ve-shu, go; ko'ishi, whither goest thou? Hamashtun va-shim, let us arise and go; ma ve-shim, let us go. Ve-shu gau, go down; shuma gav-shit, do you go down. Me-wu ve-she, I want to go.
Bi-yu, come; mune u, come here; me byu'i, may I come?
Those who desire fuller information about this interesting dialect, which well deserves a more careful and systematic study than it has yet received, may consult General Houtum-Schindler's admirable paper on the Zoroastrians of Persia (Die Parsen in Persien, ihre Sprache, etc.) in vol. xxxvi of the Zeitschrift der Deutschen Morgenlandischen Gesellschaft (pp. 54-88); Ferdinand Justi's article in vol. xxxv of the same periodical (pp. 327-414); Beresine's Dialectes Persanes (Kazan, 1853); and the articles of M. Huart in series viii of the Journal Asiatique (vol. vi, p. 502; vol. xi, p. 298; vol. xiv, p. 534).
In this connection I may also cite a verse written in the
Kashani dialect by a Kashi who wished to "take off"* the speech
of his fellow-townsmen.
While I am on the subject of these linguistic curiosities, I
may as well mention a method of secret communication sometimes
employed in Persia, the nature and applications of which were
explained to me by my Erivani friend a few days before his
departure for Mashhad. Such of my readers as have studied
Arabic, Persian, Turkish, or Hindustani will know that besides
This, then, is the chronogram: "Dud az Khurasan bar amad," "Smoke (sighs) arose from Khurasan," or "dud (dal = 4, vav = 6, dal = 4; total 14) came up (i.e. was subtracted) from Khurasan" (kha = 600, ra = 200, alif = 1, sin = 60, alif = 1, nun = 50; total 912). Taking 14 from 912 we get the date of Jami's death, A.H. 898 (= A.D. 1492).
The method of secret communication above alluded to consists
in indicating first the word of the abjad in which the letter
to be spelt out occurs, then its position in that word. In
communicating by raps, a double rap knocks off each word of the
abjad, while on reaching the word in which the desired letter
occurs its position in that word is indicated by the requisite
number of single raps. An instance will make this clearer. It is
desired to ask, "Nam-i-tu chist?" ("What is thy name?" ): the
Messages can be similarly communicated by a person smoking
the kalyan or water-pipe to his accomplice or partner, without
the knowledge of the uninitiated. In this case a long pull at the
pipe is substituted for the double rap, and a short pull for the
single rap. Pulling the moustache, or stroking the neck, face,
or collar (right side for words, left side for letters), is also
resorted to to convert the system from an auditory into a visual one.
It is expressed in writing in a similar fashion, each letter being
represented by an upright stroke, with ascending branches on the
right for the words and on the left for the letters. This writing
is called, from the appearance of the letters, khatt-i-sarvi ("cypress-
writing") or khatt-i-shajari ("tree-writing"). In this character
(written, in the usual way, from right to left) the sentence which
we took above ("nam-i-tu chist?") will stand as follows:--
OF A VERITICAL LINE JOINED WITH VARIOUS DIAGONAL LINES
MUCH RESEMBLING A CAPITAL "Y" WITH VARYING NUMBERS OF
ANGLED LINES JOINING THE VERTICALS.]
The mention of enigmatical writings reminds me of a matter
which I omitted to speak of in its proper place--I mean the
Pahlavi and Zend manuscripts preserved in the fire-temples of
Yezd. Although I knew that Yezd had long since been ransacked
for such treasures, and that, even should any old manuscripts
remain, it would be impossible to do more than examine them
This manuscript, a large volume of 294 leaves, contained,
so far as I could make out, the whole of the Vendidad, with
interspersed Pahlavi translation and commentary written in red,
the headings of the chapters being also in red, and the Avesta
text in black. On f. 158 was inscribed a Persian poem of fifty-
nine couplets, wherein the transcriber, Bahram, the son of
Marzaban, the son of Feridun, the son of Bahram, details the
circumstances of his life and the considerations which led him
to undertake the transcription of the sacred volume. From this
it appeared that when the aforesaid Bahram was thirteen years
of age, his father, Marzaban-i-Feridun, left his country
presumably Yezd), and, at the command of the reigning king
settled in Kazvin. After a while he went to Khurasan, and
thence to Kirman, where he died at the age of fifty-seven. The
death of his father turned Bahram's thoughts to his religion,
which he began to study diligently with all such as could teach
him anything about it. At the age of sixteen he seems to have
transcribed the Yashts; and at the age of twenty he commenced
the transcription of the Vendidad, of which he completed the
first half (as stated in the verses cited on p. 413, supra), on
the 14th day of the month of Amurdad, A.Y. 977. On the page
facing that whereon this poem is written are inscribed the dates
of the deaths of a number of Zoroastrians (belonging, probably,
Near the end of the volume I found the following short prayer in Persian: "Shikast u zad bad Ahriman-i-durvand-i-kaj, ava hama divan u drujan u jaduvan," "Defeated and smitten be Ahriman the outcast, the froward, with all the demons and fiends and warlocks." Some of the original leaves of the manuscript had been lost, and replaced by new ones written in a bad hand on common white paper.
It is time, however, to leave the Zoroastrians, and to say
something of the Babis of Yezd, with whom also I passed many
pleasant and profitable hours. But this chapter has already
grown so long that what I have to say on this and some other
matters had better form the substance of another.
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