I shall however not conceal, that Mohsan Fani sometimes paid tribute to the prevailing ignorance and inveterate prejudices of his time, and above all, to the sovereign power of early impressions; nor that, although in many respects he offers in himself an honorable exception to the general character of his countrymen, he now and then confounds himself with them. Thus, he was far from being above all popular superstition. The Asiatic, from the dawn of his reason, is nourished with the marvellous, trained to credulity, and prepared for mysticism, the bane of practical life; in short, he imbibes from his infancy a superstition from which he never frees himself, always prone to interpret every unusual phenomenon as a miracle. No sort of study enables him to correct his first impressions, or to enlighten his ignorance; natural history and experimental philosophy are not cultivated in Asia. If not an agriculturist, mechanic, tradesman, or soldier, he devotes himself to the intricacies of metaphysics, and very commonly to a contemplative life; he becomes an ascetic. Thus he knows no social life embellished by the refinement of mutual sympathy, nor the noble vocations of a citizen who lives—with more than one life in himself, in others, and in the whole community. Such being the general state of Asia, let us not wonder that Mohsan Fani believed some strange stories of miracles, and viewed with astonishment tricks of jugglers, which he relates with serious credulity, strangely contrasting with his usual good sense, sagacity, and judgment. Thus, he presents to us a man standing on his head with his heels in the air during a whole night; others restraining their breath many hours, and remaining immoveable during two or three days; he speaks of the miraculous effects of austerity, such as being in different places at the same time; resuscitating the dead; understanding the language of animals, vegetables, and minerals; walking on the surface of water, and through fire and air; commanding the elements; leaving and reassuming the body; and the like. But let us not forget that such stories were told elsewhere, and in Europe, even so late as the time in which the Dabistán was written.
Further, although generally moral and judicious in his sentences, grave and austere in his views, fervent and exalted in devout contemplation, our author now and then happens to use the language of ribaldry and indecency, which deserves serious reprobation. We shall however remark that taste, or the sense of propriety in words and expressions among Asiatics differs, as much as their general civilisation, from ours. From religious austerity they banished the elegant arts, as objects of sensuality; but, as they could not stifle this essential part of human nature, they only prevented its useful refinement; they clipt the delicate flower, but left the brute part of it: hence the grossness of their jokes, expressions, and images. “To sacrifice to the graces” is, among them, not understood at all, or thought an abomination. But they cannot be said to violate laws which they do not know; the offence which they give from want of taste and decency, is purely unintentional, and cannot with them have that evil effect which, among us, it would be likely to produce.
As to the general style of the Dabistán—it is only in the original text itself, that it can be justly appreciated. It will perhaps sufficiently appear from our translation that it distinguishes itself favorably among other Oriental works with which it may be compared. The diction is generally free from their usual bombast; it is commonly clear, and when obscure to an European reader, it is so on account of the strangeness and abstruseness of the matter treated. As to form—if judged according to the rules of Western criticism, the work of Mohsan Fani may be found deficient in the distribution and arrangement of matter; there are useless repetitions, incoherences, disorder, abrupt digressions, and excess, sonetimes of prolixity, at others of concision. Although we have reason to praise him for generally naming the source from which he drew his information, still we can but regret, now and then, his not sufficiently authenticating nor explaining the particulars which he relates. Thus we could wish him to have been more explicit concerning the Desátir. Upon the whole, we cannot accuse him of not having performed what, in his time and circumstances, was hardly possible, and what hitherto no Asiatic author has achieved. We ought to keep in mind how much, with respect to the perfection of literary publications, we owe solely to the art of printing, the practice of which, by its own nature, necessitates and facilitates a manifold revision and correction of the text, which otherwise could hardly take place. This alone sufficiently accounts for the frequent defects even of the best manuscript works.
Striking an equitable balance between faults and excellencies, and with particular regard to the abundance of curious, useful, and important information, I shall not hesitate to express my sincere persuasion, that the Dabistán was worthy of the eulogy bestowed by the great Orientalist who first brought it into public notice.
[206] Vol. III. p. 287.
[207] The Koran, ch. XVIII. v. 100.
[208] Ibid., ch. VI. v. 49.
[209] Ibid., ch. V. vv. 86. 88.
[210] Ibid., ch. XXIX. v. 45.
[211] Ibid., ch. III. v. 57.