HAVING received an invitation to dine, or, rather, to sup with a Persian party in the City, I went, and found a number of guests assembled. The conversation, though chiefly on every-day affairs, was yet varied; and poetry, philosophy, and politics, were in turn the theme. Sacred things were not, however, altogether forgotten; and, as there are, in Persia, sects of such widely different opinions, it may well be supposed that questions which arise on such occasions never fail to afford abundant subjects for conversation.
During the evening I was called upon in a kind manner, by one of the guests, to give an account of the doctrines of the Christian faith; and this, I must confess, considering the company I was in, somewhat confused me. Among the guests was a person who seemed to shun the trifling conversation which pleased most present, and who appeared to be intimate with none but the master of the house. His manner was always gentle, and his countenance at the same time bespoke serious thoughtfulness and inward peace. His name was Mahomed Rahem. I thought that the close observation which he seemed to pay towards me, and especially when sacred subjects were touched upon, was remarkable: and once, when I had expressed myself with unbecoming levity, his steadfast eye was immediately fixed upon me with such a peculiar expression of surprise, regret, and reproof, that struck me to very soul, and I felt a strange, mysterious wonder who this person could be. On inquiring, I learned that he had been educated for a Mullah (or, Mahomedan priest), but had never acted as such; that he was a man of considerable learning, and much respected; that he lived retired, and seldom visited even his most intimate friends. My informant added, that his only inducement to join the party had been the expectation of meeting an Englishman, as he was much attached to the English nation, and had studied our language and learning.
This information increased the desire I had already formed of cultivating the acquaintance of the interesting stranger. A few days afterward I called upon him, and found him reading a volume of Cowper’s Poems. This circumstance at once led to a conversation on the merits of English poetry, and European literature in general. I was really surprised at the clear ideas he had formed, and the correct judgment he displayed on every subject; and also at the manner in which he expressed himself in English. Our conversation had thus pleasantly lasted for nearly two hours, when I ventured to inquire more directly what were his opinions on the all-important subject of religion.
“You are a Mullah, I am informed,” said I.
“No,” answered he, “I was educated at a Mudrussa (or college), but have never felt an inclination to be one of the priesthood.”
“The explanation of your religious volume,” I rejoined, “must demand a pretty close application to its study: for, before a person can be qualified to teach the doctrines of the Koran, I understand that he must thoroughly examine and digest volumes of comments, to ascertain the meaning of the text, and the applications of its injunctions, which must be indeed a laborious preparation where there is a conscientious disposition rightly to discharge one’s duty.”
As he made no remark, I continued, “Our Scriptures are their own expositors. We desire only that they may be read: and although some particular passages are not without their difficulties, arising from the difference of the language to that in which they were at first written, and the errors of copying before the art of printing was discovered, yet it is our boast that the authority of our Holy Scriptures is established beyond doubt, from their superiority to all other supposed revelations of the Divine will, both by the beauty and simplicity of their style, as well as by the purity and holiness of their precepts.”
As he continued silent, I ventured to call his attention to some of the leading principles of Christianity, and to urge their reasonableness, their social benefits, and their individual consolations; and declared that as no other concern could possibly be of equal importance to the whole human race as the knowledge of the true God, and the means of attaining eternal life after this present fleeting existence; and that, as only one faith could be right, an honest, a sincere, and an impartial consideration of a matter of such high importance could not, ought not to be regarded but as a first and chief concern: though, alas! too many professing to hold the doctrines, and to follow the requirements of Christianity, did, it must be confessed, treat it as if it were a subject of indifference.
“And do you esteem it so?” he asked. “Certainly not,” I replied.
“Then your indifference at the table of Meerza Reeza, when things sacred were mentioned, was, I may suppose, merely assumed, merely with a wish to avoid giving offense in the company of Mahomedans, and not the real expression of what was passing in the heart?”
I immediately remembered the occasion to which he alluded, and again beheld in his countenance the same expression of pity and surprise to which it then exhibited. I owned (for my conscience condemned me), that I had acted inconsistently, yet disavowed, in the most solemn manner, any intention of throwing dishonor on the religion I professed.
“Then,” replied he, “I am heartily glad to find I was deceived, for sincerity in religion is our paramount duty. What we are we should never be ashamed of appearing to be.”
“Are you a sincere Mussulman?” I asked.
His mind seemed agitated: after a pause, in which the struggle that was going on within he was unable to conceal, he answered mildly, “No.”
“Are you a freethinker?”
“No, indeed, I am not.”
“What are you then?” I anxiously inquired; “be you sincere; are you a Christian?”
“I am,” he replied.
It need scarcely be said that this candid confession perfectly astonished me. I surveyed him at first with a look which, judging from its reflection from his mild and placid countenance, must have betokened suspicion, or perhaps contempt. The consideration that he could have no motive to deceive me in this disclosure, which was of so much more serious importance to himself than to me, restored me to recollection, and banished every sentiment but joy. I could not refrain from pressing silently his hand to my heart.
He was not unmoved at this transport; yet his firmness, with serenity of mind remained. He told me that I had possessed myself of a secret, which, notwithstanding his opinion that it was the duty of every one to profess Christ openly, he had hitherto concealed, except from a, few, who, like himself, believed in the Lord Jesus Christ, and had their consciences purged “from dead works to serve the living God,” and found old things passed away, and all things become new. Hebrews 9:1414How much more shall the blood of Christ, who through the eternal Spirit offered himself without spot to God, purge your conscience from dead works to serve the living God? (Hebrews 9:14); 2 Corinthians 5:1717Therefore if any man be in Christ, he is a new creature: old things are passed away; behold, all things are become new. (2 Corinthians 5:17).
“And whence comes this happy change?” I asked.
“I will tell you that, likewise,” he replied. “In the year 1223 (of the Hegira), there came to this city an Englishman, who taught the religion of Christ with a boldness hitherto unequaled in Persia, in the midst of much scorn and ill-treatment from our Mullahs, as well as from the lower orders. He was a beardless youth, and evidently enfeebled by disease. He dwelt among us for more than a year. I was then a decided enemy to infidels, as Christians are termed by the followers of Mahomed, and I visited this teacher of the despised sect, with the declared object of treating him with scorn, and exposing his doctrines to contempt. Although I persevered for some time in this behavior towards him, I found that every interview not only increased my respect for the individual, but diminished my confidence in Mahomedanism. His extreme forbearance toward his opponents, the calm, and yet convincing manner in which he exposed the absurdities of the Mahomedan system, gradually inclined me to listen to his argents, and to inquire impartially, and with sincerity of purpose, into the grounds on which they were founded, and, finally, to read a tract that he had written in reply to a defense of our false religion, written by one of our chief Mullahs. Need I add that the result of my examination was a conviction that the young disputant was right. But (with shame I confess it), fear, the fear of my fellow-men, kept me back from an open avowal of my sentiments. I even avoided the society of the Christian teacher, though he remained in the city so long. Yet, before he took his departure from us, I could not refrain from paying him a farewell visit. Our conversation on that occasion (and, oh! the remembrance of it will never be effaced from my mind), sealed my conversion. He gave me a book; it has ever since been my constant companion; the study of it has formed my most delightful occupation; its contents have ever proved a source of unfailing consolation.”
Upon this, he put into my hand a copy of the New Testament in Persian. On one of the blank leaves was written, “There is joy in heaven over one sinner that repenteth.” N. N.
“Jesus from the glory came,
Ever blessed be His name!
Came to die for sinful men,
Then went back to heaven again.
What a mercy ‘tis to know
Jesus loveth sinners so;
What a mercy ‘tis to prove
Young in years the Saviour’s love.”