The sight without and the sights within court a like amount of admiration, and the balance is constantly preponderating, now in one, now in the other direction. Without the cupola and the towers with their rich incrustations of gold, within the massive fretted work and grating of silver, the artistically stained windows, the construction of the dome denoting a fine perception of refinement and elegance in form, and rich Oriental carpet stuffs with diamonds and precious stones woven into them, continually challenged and divided my wondering interest. This cold and glittering accumulation of wealth was not wanting in the touch of humanity which warmed it into a scene of life and bustle. The groups within were not mere sight-seers, come to gratify their curiosity. They were pious visitors at a holy shrine, with silent devotion stamped upon their features, denoting ecstasy, enthusiasm, deep contrition, humble self-abasement, and every shade of religious joy and sadness, which none so well as the faces of Islamite devotees know how to express or simulate; whilst to their lips rose muttered prayers, interrupted by guttural yells, their chests were heaving with wild sobs. Those who did not know their prayers by heart, or could not read from the tablets inscribed with them, which were suspended from the grating, had them repeated by the leader of the group they belonged to. All seem anxious to propitiate the divinity by acts and prayers of praise or humiliation in order to secure a place in the dwellings of the blessed and happy. One all-absorbing feeling seems to inspire at such a moment men of all races and classes alike, whether they be lords, merchants, or servants—the cautious dwellers in Central Asia, the shrewd men from Isfahan and Shiraz, the guileless Turks, or the ferocious Bakhtiaris and Kurds. None are too high or too low for the performance of acts of pious tenderness; the sons of Khans, the Mirzas and the poor peasants mingle freely together; and it is a touching and sublime spectacle, indeed, to see these sons of Asia, both rude and refined, pressing forward to kiss, with unfeigned humility, the silver trellis, the padlock hanging from the door of the grating and the hallowed ground itself.
A MESHED MONUMENT.Of the mosque of Gowher Shah, which I visited next, the Persians say with great justice, that whilst the monument of Imam Riza is more gorgeous, the mosque far surpasses it architecturally. The mosque is situated in the same court, opposite to the monument. The kashi work (glazed tiles) enters largely into the structure inside and outside, and there is an artistic beauty about it which more than compensates for the comparative absence of richer materials such as gold and silver. The lofty portal is admirable, both for the elegance of its design, and the rich colouring it derives from the many-hued and brilliant kashi work, especially when lit up by the rays of the sun. The gate is of the same style as those I saw in Herat and Samarkand.
Shaping my course after that of the numerous pilgrims and beggars, who all went in the same direction on leaving this splendid building, I went to the refectory of Imam Riza, or as the natives call it, Ashbaz Khanei Hazret (the kitchen of his Highness). The Hazret, so his Holiness is entitled, par excellence, enjoys the reputation of being immensely rich. He is very hospitable, and every new-comer has the choice of becoming his guest; but this hospitality is limited in point of time to seven days only. The wealthier pilgrims rarely take advantage of this liberal arrangement, but the poorer classes eagerly avail themselves of the privilege of boarding and lodging at his Highness's expense. The convenience of the guest is cared for on a very large scale, and the vast machinery of baths and caravansaries, boarding-houses and soap-boiling houses, of which his Highness is the owner, is put in motion in order to satisfy the various wants of the strangers flocking to the Hazret. I could not resist the temptation of adding one more experience to those for which I was indebted to my Oriental disguise. I squatted down, unheeded in the midst of the crowd of hungry Shi-ite and Sunnite pilgrims. Very soon large dishes of smoking rice were brought in by a troop of servants. Rancid fat and damaged rice, of the kind of which I had already collected reminiscences enough to last me for a lifetime, made up the delicious dish, which gave me but a mean opinion of the boasted riches of his Highness. I pretended to be as eager about fishing out my share of it as any other, splashing about with my fist in the plate, but thought it best to save my appetite for a more favourable occasion.
The avarice and greediness, so characteristic of the Persians, induce me to believe that their admiration for Imam Riza is owing, not so much to the renown of his sanctity and the inviolable right of asylum belonging to him, as to the vast and fabulous wealth of which he is supposed to be the owner.
PERSECUTION OF JEWS.An accident led me to discover the precarious condition in which the Jews were living in Meshed. I met one day in the streets of Meshed a former fellow-traveller of mine, on my journey from Bokhara. As he was about to pass on without heeding me, I called out after him, knowing him to be a Jew, "Yehudi, Yehudi." He hurriedly came up to me and said confidentially in a low voice: "For God's sake, Hadji, do not call me a Jew here. Beyond these walls I belong to my nation, but here I must play the Moslem." It was the old story over again of persecution fanned by bigotry and fanaticism, and taken advantage of by murderers and robbers.
The cause of their present distress and their fear of being recognized as Jews dates from an occurrence which had happened several years ago in Meshed. A Persian doctor, who was consulted by a Jewess about an eruption on her hand, advised her to plunge her hands into the entrails of a newly-slaughtered dog. She took his advice, and had one of those unhappy street scavengers of the East killed in order to try the cure prescribed to her. Unfortunately she had this done on the very day on which the Mohammedans celebrated the Eidi Kurban (Feast of Sacrifice). The rumour of it soon spread amongst the people; and the slaughtering of the dog was interpreted as an impious mockery of the religious rites of the true believers. The rapacity and murderous instincts of the mob gladly seized this frivolous pretext wherewith to cloak their thirst for the blood of the detested Jew, and their love of pillage. In an instant the Jewish quarter of the city was overrun with a savage rabble, rioting, robbing and murdering. Those that survived the fatal day had their lives spared on condition of abjuring the faith of their fathers and embracing that of their oppressors and persecutors. They yielded to dire necessity, but in their hearts they remained Jews, conforming only in outward appearance, as long as they had to stay in Meshed. Years had passed since, and although the tolerant spirit, which began to prevail under the benign influence of European interference, made the Mohammedans relax somewhat their former rigour, the Jews still deemed it more prudent to pass themselves off in Meshed for Mohammedans.
THE TOMB OF FIRDUSI.Among the ruins of Tus to the north of Meshed lies, according to the belief of modern Persians, the tomb of one of the greatest of Iran's bards, the tomb of Firdusi. Before leaving the city I made an excursion to it. It was with feelings of sincere piety and admiration that I approached the modest monument which commemorates the resting-place of one of the greatest national poets in the world. In sixty thousand verses he sang the history of his people, without admitting more than a few foreign, that is Arabic, words into his narration. This wonderful feat will be especially appreciated, if the fact is borne in mind that Persian—which he wrote as well as the modern Persian does—contains four words of Arabic origin to every six words purely Iranian. His generous patriotism rebelled against the thought of employing the language of the oppressors of his country. Not only as a poet, not only as a passionate lover of his country, will Firdusi's memory live for ever, but his exalted private character will always excite the admiration of mankind. He was fearless and independent. As an instance of his high-mindedness, it is told that Sultan Mahmud, the Ghazvenite, sent him on one occasion the remuneration of thirty thousand drachms. This was much less than the sum the Sultan had promised. He happened to be in the bath when the gift was brought, and immediately scornfully directed that the entire sum should be divided among the servants of the bathing establishment. The Sultan, probably repenting of his parsimony, subsequently sent the poet camels laden with treasure, but they came in time only to meet his funeral procession. The gift was sent back to the ungrateful monarch, the poet's proud daughter declining to accept of it. The poet had left a sting in the memory of the Sultan, in a satire which is remembered by the people to this day, which begins with the following verse:
"Oh! Sultan Mahmud, if thou fearest none, yet fear God!"
What an abyss is there between the modern Persians and their great poet![5]
[5] Amongst the various great poetical compositions of Mohammedan Asia, we may boldly call the poems of Hafiz, Saadi, and Firdusi the household works of every enlightened or rather of every educated Mohammedan. As to the latter one, I have scarcely met with any Persian who was not conversant with the heroes of the great epic called the "Shah-Nameh;" and there is rarely a bath, a caravansary or any other public building, excepting mosques and colleges, which would not be adorned with primitive pictures, representing the heroic feats of Rustem, Zal and Kai Khosrau. The "Shah-Nameh" is the only popular history of the Iranian world, it is the mirror in the resplendent radiance of which the Persian and the Central Asian delight to find the glory of by-gone ages; and really, without having read the "Shah-Nameh," we shall never be able to realize the wonderful spirit of that Asiatic world which was superseded by Islam. A popularization of this masterly epic is therefore a great service done to the knowledge of the East. In Germany Rückert and Schack have tried this task; but owing to the form which they selected, their success was only a partial one, and the large public of the said country possesses but a fragmentary notion of the "Book of Kings."