Chapter III: Introduction (1)

§ I.――HOW THE DABISTAN FIRST BECAME KNOWN――ITS AUTHOR――THE SOURCES OF HIS INFORMATION.

It is generally known that sir William Jones was the first who drew the attention of Orientalists to the Dabistán. This happened five years after the beginning of a new era in Oriental literature, the foundation of the Asiatic Society of Calcutta by that illustrious man. It may not appear inopportune here to revive the grateful remembrance of one who acquired the uncontested merit of not only exciting in Asia and Europe a new ardor for Oriental studies, but also of directing them to their great objects――MAN and NATURE; and of endeavoring, by word and deed, to render the attainment of languages conducive to the required knowledge equally easy and attractive.

Having, very early in life, gained an European reputation as a scholar and elegant writer, sir William Jones embarked[1] for the Indian shores with vast projects, embracing, with the extension of science, the general improvement of mankind.[2] Four months after his arrival in Calcutta,[3] he addressed as the first president of the Asiatic Society, a small but select assembly, in which he found minds responsive to his own noble sentiments. A rapid sketch of the first labors of their incomparable leader, may not be irrelevant to our immediate subject.

In his second anniversary discourse,[4] he proposed a general plan for investigating Asiatic learning, history, and institutions. In his third discourse, he traced the line of investigation, which he faithfully followed, as long as he lived in India, in his annual public speeches: he determined to exhibit the prominent features of the five principal nations of Asia――the Indians, Arabs, Tartars, Persians, and Chinese. After having treated in the two following years of the Arabs and Tartars, he considered in his sixth discourse[5] the Persians, and declared that he had been induced by his earliest investigations to believe, and by his latest to conclude, that three primitive races of men must have migrated originally from a central country, and that this country was _Iran_, commonly called Persia. Examining with particular care the traces of the most ancient languages and religions which had prevailed in this country, he rejoiced at “a fortunate discovery, for which,” he said, “he was first indebted to Mir Muhammed Hussain, one of the most intelligent Muselmans in India, and which has at once dissipated the cloud, and cast a gleam of light on the primeval history of Iran and of the human race, of which he had long despaired, and which could hardly have dawned from any other quarter;” this was, he declared, “the rare and interesting tract on twelve different religions, entitled the DABISTAN.”[6]

Sir William Jones read the Dabistán for the first time in 1787. I cannot refrain from subjoining here the opinion upon this work, which he communicated in a private letter, dated June, 1787, to J. Shore, esq. (afterwards lord Teignmouth); he says: “The greatest part of it would be very interesting to a curious reader, but some of it cannot be translated. It contains more recondite learning, more entertaining history, more beautiful specimens of poetry, more ingenuity and wit, more indecency and blasphemy, than I ever saw collected in a single volume;[7] the two last are not of the author’s, but are introduced in the chapters on the heretics and infidels of India.[8] On the whole, it is the most amusing and instructive book I ever read in Persian.”[9]

We may suppose it was upon the recommendation of sir William Jones, that Francis Gladwin, one of the most distinguished members of the new Society, translated the first chapter of _The Dabistán_, or “School of Manners,” which title has been preserved from due regard to the meritorious Orientalist, who first published the translation of a part of this work. The whole of it was printed in the year 1809, in Calcutta, and translations of some parts of it were published in _The Asiatic Researches_.[10] It is only at present, more than half a century after the first public notice of it by sir W. Jones, that the version of the whole work appears, under the auspices and at the expense of the Oriental Translation Committee of Great Britain and Ireland.

Who was the author of the Dabistán?――Sir William Jones thought it was composed by a Muhammedan traveller, a native of Kachmir, named _Mohsan_, but distinguished by the assumed surname of _Fání_, “the Perishable.”

Gladwin[11] calls him _Shaikh Muhammed Mohsin_, and says that, besides the Dabistán, he has left behind him a collection of poems, among which there is a moral essay, entitled _Masdur ul asas_, “the source of signs;” he was of the philosophic sect of Súfis, and patronised by the imperial prince _Dara Shikoh_, whom he survived; among his disciples in philosophy is reckoned _Muhammed Tahir_, surnamed _Ghawri_, whose poems are much admired in Hindostan. Mohsan’s death is placed in the year of the Hejira 1081 (A. D. 1670).

William Erskine,[12] in search of the true author of the Dabistán, discovered no other account of Mohsan Fání than that contained in the _Gul-i-Râana_, “charming rose,” of _Lachmi Narayán_, who flourished in Hyderabad about the end of the 18th or the beginning of the 19th century. This author informs us, under the article of Mohsan Fání, that “Mohsán, a native of Kachmir, was a learned man and a respectable poet; a scholar of _Mulla Yakub_, Súfi of Kachmir; and that, after completing his studies, he repaired to Delhi, to the court of the emperor _Shah Jehan_, by whom, in consequence of his great reputation and high acquirements, he was appointed _Sadder_, ‘chief judge,’ of Allahabad; that there he became a disciple of Shaikh _Mohib ulla_, an eminent doctor of that city, who wrote the treatise entitled _Teswich_, ‘the golden Mean.’ Mohsan Fání enjoyed this honorable office till Shah Jehân subdued Balkh; at which time _Nazer Muhammed Khan_, the Wali, ‘prince,’ of Balkh, having effected his escape, all his property was plundered. It happened that in his library there was found a copy of Mohsan’s Diwán, or ‘poetical Collection,’ which contained an ode in praise of the (fugitive) Wáli. This gave such offence to the emperor, that the Sadder was disgraced and lost his office, but was generously allowed a pension. He retired (as Lachmi informs us) to his native country, where he passed the rest of his days without any public employment, happy and respected. His house was frequented by the most distinguished men of Kachmir, and among the rest by the governors of the province. He had lectures at his house, being accustomed to read to his audience the writings of certain authors of eminence, on which he delivered moral and philosophical comments. Several scholars of note, among whom were Taher Ghawri (before mentioned) and _Haji Aslem Salem_, issued from his school.” He died on the before mentioned date. “It is to be observed that Lachmi does not mention the Dabistán as a production of Mohsan Fání, though, had he written it, it must have been his most remarkable work.”

Erskine goes on to recapitulate some particulars mentioned in the Dabistán of the author’s life, and concludes that it seems very improbable that Mohsan Fání and the author of the Dabistán were the same person. In this conclusion, and upon the same grounds, he coincides with the learned Vans Kennedy.[13]

Erskine further quotes,[14] from a manuscript copy of the Dabistán which he saw in the possession of Mulla Firuz, in Bombay, the following marginal note annexed to the close of chapter XIV.: “In the city of Daurse, a king of the Parsis, of the race of the imperial Anushirván, the Shet Dawer Huryár, conversed with _Amír Zulfikar Ali-al-Husaini_ (on whom be the grace of God!), whose poetical name was Mobed Shah.” This Zulfikar Ali, whoever he was, the Mulla supposes to be the author of the Dabistán. Erskine judiciously subjoins: “On so slight an authority, I would not willingly set up an unknown author as the compiler of that work; but it is to be remarked that many verses of Mobed’s are quoted in the Dabistán, and there is certainly reason to suspect that the poetical Mobed, whoever he may be, was the author of that compilation.”

“To this let it be added, that the author of the Dabistán; in his account of Mobed Serosh, says[15] that one Muhammed Mohsan, a man of learning, told him that he had heard Mobed Serosh give three hundred and sixty proofs of the existence of God. This at least makes Muhammed Mohsan, whoever he may be, a different person from the author of the Dabistán.”

I cannot omit adding the following notice annexed to the note quoted above: “Between the printed copy and Mulla Firuz’s manuscript before alluded to, a difference occurs in the very beginning of the work. After the poetical address to the Deity and the praise of the prophet, with which the Dabistán, like most other Muselman works, commences, the manuscript reads: ‘Mohsan Fani says,’ and two moral couplets succeed. In the printed copy, the words ‘Mohsan Fani says,’――which should occur between the last word of the first page and the first word of the second――are omitted. As no account of the author is given in the beginning of the book, as is usual with Muselman writers, Mulla Firuz conjectures that a careless or ignorant reader may have considered the words ‘Mohsan Fáni says’ as forming the commencement of the volume, and as containing the name of the author of the whole book; whereas they merely indicate the author of the couplets that follow, and would rather show that Mohsan Fani was not the writer of the Dabistán. This conjecture, I confess, appears to me at once extremely ingenious and very probable. A comparison of different manuscripts might throw more light on the question.”

Concerning the opinion last stated, I can but remark, that in a manuscript copy of the Dabistán, which I procured from the library of the king of Oude, and caused to be transcribed for me, the very same words: “Mohsan Fani says,” occur (as I have observed in vol. I. p. 6, note 3), preceding a _rabaâ_, or quatrain, which begins:

“The world is a book full of knowledge and of justice,” etc. etc.

These lines seem well chosen as an introduction to the text itself, which begins by a summary of the whole work, exhibiting the titles of the twelve chapters of which it is composed. As the two copies mentioned (the one found in Bombay, the other in Lucknow) contain the same words, they can hardly be taken for an accidental addition of a copyist. I found no remark upon this point in Mr. Shea’s translation, who had two manuscript copies to refer to. Whatever it be, it must still remain undecided, whether Mohsan Fani was there named only as the author of the next quatrain or of the whole book, although either hypothesis may not appear destitute of probability; nor can it be considered strange to admit that the name of Mohsan Fani was borne by more than one individual. I shall be permitted to continue calling the author of the Dabistán by the presumed name of Mohsan Fani.

Dropping this point, we shall now search for information upon his person, character, and knowledge in the work itself. Is he really a native of Kachmir, as here before stated?

Although in the course of his book he makes frequent mention of Kachmir, he never owns himself a native of that country. In one part of his narrative, he expressly alludes to another home. He begins the second chapter upon the religion of the Hindus (vol. II. p. 2) by these words: “As inconstant fortune had torn away the author from the shores of Persia, and made him the associate of the believers in transmigration and those who addressed their prayers to idols and images, and worshipped demons * * * *.” Now we know that Kachmir is considered as a very ancient seat, nay as the very cradle, of the doctrine of transmigration, and of Hinduism in general, with all its tenets, rites, and customs; and that from the remotest times to the present it was inhabited by numerous adherents of this faith; how could the author, if a native of Kachmir, accuse inconstant fortune for having made him elsewhere an associate of these very religionists with whom, from his birth, he must have been accustomed to live? The passage just quoted leaves scarce a doubt that the shores of Persia, from which he bewails having been torn, were really his native country.

When was he born?

He no where adduces the date of his birth; the earliest period of his life which he mentions, is the year of the Hejira 1028 (A. D. 1618):[16] in this year the Mobed Hushíar brought the author to Balik Nátha, a great adept in the Yoga, or ascetic devotion, to receive the blessing of that holy man, who pronounced these words over him: “This boy shall acquire the knowledge of God.” It is not stated in what place this happened. The next earliest date is five years later, 1033 of the Hejira (A. D. 1623).[17] He says that, in his infancy, he came with his friends and relations from Patna to the capital Akbar-abad, and was carried in the arms of the Mobed Hushíar to Chatur Vapah, a famous ascetic of those days. The pious man rejoiced at it, and bestowed his blessing on the future writer of the Dabistán; he taught him the _mantra_, “prayer,” of the sun, and appointed one of his disciples to remain with the boy until the age of manhood. We have here a positive statement: in the year 1623 A. D., he was “in his infancy,” and carried “in the arms of his protector.” Giving the widest extension to these expressions, we can hardly think him to have been either much older or younger than seven or eight years: not much older, for being in some way carried in the arms of the Mobed; nor much younger, having been taught a hymn to the sun, and he might have been a boy of three years when he received the first-mentioned blessing from Balik Natha. We may therefore suppose him to have been born about the year 1615 of our era, in the tenth year of the reign of the emperor Jehangir. We collect in his work fifty-three dates relative to himself between the year 1618 and 1653. From 1627 to 1643, we see him mostly in Kachmir and Lahore, travelling between these two places; in 1643, he was at the holy sepulchre, probably at Meshhad, which appears to be the furthermost town to the West which he reached; from 1634 to 1649, he dwelt in several towns of the Panjab and Guzerat; the next year he proceeded to Sikakul, the remotest town in the East which he says he has visited; there he fell sick, and sojourned during 1653, at which epoch, if the year of his birth be correctly inferred, he had attained his thirty-eighth year. We have no other date of his death than that before stated: if he died in 1670, it was in the eleventh year of the reign of Aurengzéb, or Alemgir. Mohsan Fani would therefore have passed his infancy, youth, and manhood mostly in India, under the reigns of the three emperors, Jehangír, Shah Jehan, and Aurengzeb.[18] It was the state of religion, prevailing in those days in Hindostan that he describes.

From his earliest age he appears to have led an active life, frequently changing his residence. Such a mode of life belongs to a travelling merchant or philosopher, and in our author both qualities might have been united, as is often the case in Asia. Mohsan Fani, during his travels, collected the diversified and curious materials for the Dabistán; he observed with his own eyes the manners and customs of different nations and sects. He says himself at the conclusion of his work: “After having much frequented the meetings of the followers of the five before-said religions,” Magians, Hindus, Jews, Nazareans, and Muselmans, “the author wished and undertook to write this book; and whatever in this work, treating of the religions of different countries, is stated concerning the creed of different sects, has been taken from their books, and for the account of the persons belonging to any particular sect, the author’s information was imparted to him by their adherents and sincere friends, and recorded literally, so that no trace of partiality nor aversion might be perceived: in short, the writer of these pages performed no more than the task of a translator.” This declaration, even to a severe critic, may appear satisfactory. Sir William Jones called him[19] a learned and accurate, a candid and ingenious author. A further appreciation of Mohsan Fani’s character is reserved for subsequent pages. We can, however, here state, that he sought the best means of information, and gives us what he had acquired not only from personal experience, which is always more or less confined; not only from oral instruction, which is too often imperfectly given and received; but also from an attentive perusal of the best works which he could procure upon the subject of his investigation. Of the latter authorities which the author produces, some are known in Europe, and we may judge of the degree of accuracy and intelligence with which he has made use of them. Of others, nothing at all, or merely the name, is known. This is generally the case with works relative to the old Persian religion, which is the subject of the first chapter, divided into fifteen sections.

The authorities which he adduces for this chapter are as follow:

1. The _Amighistan_ (vol. I. pp. 15. 26. 42), without the name of
its author.

2. The _Desátir_ (vol. I. pp. 20. 21. 44. 65), an heaven-bestowed
book.

3. The _Darai Sekander_ (vol. I. pp. 34. 360), composed by Dáwir
Háryar.

4. The _Akhteristan_, “region of the stars” (vol. I. pp. 35. 42).

5. The _Jashen Sadah_, “the festival of Sadah” (the 16th night of
January) (vol. I. pp. 72. 112).

6. The _Sárud-i-mastan_, “song of the intoxicated” (vol. I. p. 76.
vol. II. p. 136): this and the preceding work composed by Mobed
Hushíar.

7. The _Jam-i-Kai Khusro_, “the cup of Kai Khusro,” a commentary
upon the poems of Azar Kaivan, composed by Mobed Khod Jai (vol.
I. pp. 76. 84. 119.)

8. The _Sharistan-i-Danish wa Gulistan-i-binish_, “the pavilion of
knowledge and rose-garden of vision” (vol. I. p. 77. 89. 109),
composed by Farzanah Bahram.

9. The _Zerdusht Afshar_ (vol. I. p. 77), work of the Mobed Serosh,
who composed also:

10. _Nosh Daru_, “sweet medicine” (vol. I. p. 114); and

11. The _Sagangubin_, “dog’s honey” (vol. I. p. 114).

12. The _Bazm-gah-i-durvishan_, “the banquetting-room of the
durvishes” (vol. I. pp. 104. 108), without the name of the author.

13. The _Arzhang Mani_, “the gallery of Mani” (vol. I. p. 131).

14. The _Tabrah-i-Mobedi_, “the sacerdotal kettle-drum” (vol. I. p.
123), by Mobed Paristar.

15. The _Dadistan Aursah_ (vol. I. p. 131).

16. The _Amízesh-i-farhang_ (vol. I. p. 145), containing the
institutes of the Abadiah durvishes.

17. The _Míhín farush_ (vol. I. p. 244).

18. The _Testament of Jamshid to Abtin_ (vol. I. p. 195), compiled
by Farhang Dostúr.

19. _Razabad_, composed by Shídab.

20. The _Sányál_, a book of the Sipasians (vol. II. p. 136),
containing an account of a particular sort of devotion.

21. The _Rama zastan_ of Zardusht (vol. I. p. 369 and vol. II. p.
136).

22. _Huz al Hayat_ (vol. II. p. 137), composed by Ambaret Kant.

23. The _Samrad Nameh_, by Kamkar (vol. I. p. 201).

Besides other writings of Zertusht, in great number, which the author has seen.

These works are most probably of a mystical nature, and belong to a particular sect, but may contain, however, some interesting traditions or facts of ancient history. Of the twenty-three books just enumerated, a part of the third only is known to us, namely, that of the Desátir.

[1] In April, 1783.

[2] He landed at Calcutta in September, 1783.

[3] In January, 1784.

[4] Delivered in February, 1785.

[5] In February, 1789.

[6] The works of sir William Jones, with the life of the
author, by lord Teignmouth, in 13 vols. Vol. III. p. 110.
1807.

[7] I shall hereafter give some explanations upon this
subject.

[8] There appears in the printed edition no positive ground
for the opinion above expressed; we find, however, frequent
repetitions of the same subject, such as are not likely to
belong to the same author; we know, besides, that additions
and interpolations are but too common in all Oriental
manuscripts.

[9] The Persian text, with the translation of the first
chapter, appeared in the two first numbers of the _New
Asiatic Miscellany_. Calcutta, 1789. This English version
was rendered into German by Dalberg, 1809.

[10] These translations are mentioned in the notes of the
present version.

[11] New Asiatic Misc., p. 87.

[12] Transactions of the Literary Society of Bombay, vol.
II. p. 374.

[13] Transactions of the Literary Society of Bombay, vol.
II. pp. 243-244.

[14] Ibid., pp. 375-376.

[15] See the present Transl., vol. I. pp. 113-114. A mistake
is here to be pointed out: at p. 114, l. 11, the name of
Kaivan has been substituted for that of Mobed Serosh.

[16] See vol. II. p. 137.

[17] See vol. II. p. 145.

[18] Jehangír reigned from 1605 to 1628.
Shah Jehan ―――― 1628 ―――― 1659.
Aurengzeb ―――― 1659 ―――― 1707.

[19] The Works of sir W. Jones, vol. IV. pp. 16 and 105.

§ II.――DISCUSSION ON THE DESATIR.

This word was considered to be the Arabic plural of the original Persian word _dostúr_, signifying “a note-book, pillar, canon, model, learned man;” but, according to the Persian grammar, its plural would be _dosturán_, or _dostúrha_, and not _desátir_. From this Arabic form of the word an inference was drawn against the originality and antiquity of the Desátir; but this of itself is not sufficient, as will be shown.

Other readings of the title are _Dastánir_, in one passage,[20] and _Wasátir_[21] in two other places of Gladwin’s Persian text, and the last also in a passage of the printed edition.[22] The first is not easily accounted for, and is probably erroneous; but the second is found in the index of the printed edition,[23] under the letter و, _vau_, and explained: “the name of the book of Mahabad;” it cannot therefore be taken for a typographical error, and is the correct title of the book, as I now think, although I formerly[24] preferred reading _Desátir_. It is derivable from the Sansrcit root वाश् _wás_, “to sound, to call,” and therefore in the form of _wasátis_ or _wasâtir_ (the _r_ and _s_ being frequently substituted for the _visarga_) it signifies “speech, oracle, precept, command.” It is also in connection with the old Persian word _wakshur_, “a prophet.” Considering the frequent substitution in kindred languages of _ba_ for _va_, and _ba_ for _bha_, it may also be referred to the root भाष _bhasha_, “to speak,”[25] which, with the prepositions _pari_ and _sam_, signifies “to explain, expound, discourse.” Hence we read in the Commentary of the _Desátir_ the ancient Persian word _basátir_[26] (not to be found in modern Persian vocabularies), which is there interpreted by “speculations,” in the following passage: “the speculations (basátir) which I have written on the _desátir_.”

I shall nevertheless keep, in the ensuing Dissertation, the title Desátir, because it is generally adopted. Besides, in the Mahabádian text, the _vau_, و, frequently occurs for the Persian _dál_, د, thus we find وادن, _wáden_, for دادن, _dáden_, “to give;” and _wárem_, وارم, for _dárem_, دارم, “I have;” but I am aware that the two letters, so similar in their form, may be easily confounded with each other by the copyist or printer.

The extract from the Desátir contained in the Dabistán was thought worthy of the greatest attention by sir William Jones, as before mentioned; nay, appeared to him “an unexceptionable authority,” before a part of the Desátir itself was published in Bombay, in the year 1818, that is, twenty-four years after the death of that eminent man.

The author of the Dabistán mentions the Desátir as a work well known among the Sipasians, that is, the adherents of the most ancient religion of Persia. According to his statement, the emperor Akbar conversed frequently with the fire-adorers of Guzerat; he also called from Persia a follower of Zerdusht, named _Ardeshir_, and invited fire-worshippers from Kirman to his court, and received their religious books from that country; we may suppose the Desátir was among them. So much is positive, that it is quoted in the _Sharistan chehar chemen_, a work composed by a celebrated doctor who lived under the reigns of the emperors Akbar and Jehangír, and died A. D. 1624. The compiler of the Burhani Kati, a Persian Dictionary, to be compared to the Arabic _Kamus_, or “sea of language,” quotes and explains a great number of obsolete words and philosophic terms upon the authority of the Desátir: this evidently proves the great esteem in which this work was held. Let it be considered that a dictionary is not destined for the use of a sect merely, but of the whole nation that speaks the language, and this is the Persian, considered, even by the Arabs, as the second language in the world and in paradise.[27]

It is to be regretted that Mohsan Fani did not relate where and how he himself became acquainted with the Desátir. I see no sufficient ground for the supposition of Silvestre de Sacy[28] and an anonymous critic,[29] that the author of the Dabistán never saw the Desátir. So much is certain, that the account which he gives of the Mahabádian religion coincides in every material point with that which is contained in that part of the sacred book which was edited in Bombay by _Mulla Firuz Bin-i-Kaus_.[30]

This editor says in his preface (p. vi): “The Desátir is known to have existed for many years, and has frequently been referred to by Persian writers, though, as it was regarded as the sacred volume of a particular sect, it seems to have been guarded with that jealous care and that incommunicative spirit, that have particularly distinguished the religious sects of the East. We can only fairly expect, therefore, that the contents should be known to the followers of the sect.” Mulla Firuz employs here evidently the term _sect_ with respect to the dominant religion of the Muhammedan conquerors, whose violent and powerful intolerance reduced the still faithful followers of the ancient national religion to undergo the fate of a persecuted sect. But we shall see that the doctrine of the Desátir is justly entitled to a much higher pretension than to be that of an obscure sect.

Whatever it be, Mulla Firuz possessed the only manuscript of the work then known in Bombay. It was purchased at Isfahan by his father Kaus, about the year 1778, from a bookseller, who sold it under the title of a Gueber book. Brought to Bombay, it attracted the particular attention of Mr. Duncan, then governor of Bombay, to such a degree, that he began an English translation of the work, which was interrupted by his return to England. The final completion of the version was owing to the great encouragement which sir John Malcolm gave Mulla Firuz in consequence of the high opinion which sir William Jones had publicly expressed of the Dabistán, the author of which drew his account of the ancient Persian dynasties and religions chiefly from the Desátir. There is an interval of one hundred and thirty-three years[31] between the composition of the Dabistán and the fortuitous purchase of the manuscript copy of the Desátir, by Kaus in Isfahan; as it would be assuming to much to suppose that the latter is the same from which Mohsan Fani drew his information, we can but admit that the agreement of both, in the most material points, affords a confirmation of each respective text.

The great Orientalist Silvestre de Sacy, on reviewing the Desátir,[32] says: “We are in a manner frightened by the multitude and gravity of the questions which we shall have to solve, or at least to discuss; for every thing is here a problem: What is the age of the book? Who is its author? Is it the work of several persons; or the divers parts of which it is composed, are they written by one and the same author, although attributed to different individuals, who succeeded each other at long intervals? The language in which it was written, was it, at any epoch, that of the inhabitants of Persia, or of any of the countries comprised in the empire of Iran? Or is it nothing but a factitious language, invented to support an imposture? At what epoch were made the Persian translation accompanying the original text, and the commentary joined to this translation? Who is the author of the one and the other? Are not this translation and this commentary themselves pseudonymous and apocryphal books; or may not the whole be the work of an impostor of the latter centuries? All these questions present themselves in a crowd to my mind; and if some of them appear to be easily answered, others offer more than common difficulties.”

Well may a person, even with far greater pretensions than mine can be, hesitate to attempt the discussion of a subject which _frightened_ the illustrious Silvestre de Sacy; but as the Desátir is one of the principal sources from which the author of the Dabistán drew his account of the Persian religion and its divers sects――a considerable part of his work――I cannot dispense with presenting the subject in the state in which the discussions hitherto published, by very respectable critics, have left it. If I venture to offer a few remarks of my own upon it, it is only in the hope of provoking further elucidations by philologers who shall examine the Mahabadian text itself, and by arguments drawn from its fundamentals decide the important question――whether we shall have one language more or less to count among the relics of antiquity?

Instead of following the order in which the questions are stated above, I will begin by that which appears to me the most important, namely: “the language in which the Desátir is written, is it nothing but a factitious language invented to support an imposture?”

The forgery of a language, so bold an imposture, renders any other fraud probable; through a false medium no truth can be expected, nor even sought. But, in order to guard against the preconception of a forgery having taken place, a preconception the existence of which may, with too good a foundation, be apprehended, I shall first examine, as a general thesis, whether the invention of a language, by one individual or by a few individuals, is in itself probable and credible. I shall only adduce those principles which have received the sanction of great philologers, among whom it may be sufficient to name baron William Humboldt, and claim the reader’s indulgence, if, in endeavoring to be clear, I should not have sufficiently avoided trite observations.

Tracing languages up to their first origin, it has been found that they are derived from sounds expressive of feelings; these are preserved in the roots, from which, in the progressive development of the faculty of speech, verbs, nouns, and the whole language, are formed. In every speech, even in the most simple one, the individual feeling has a connection with the common nature of mankind; speech is not a work of reflection: it is an instinctive creation. The infallible presence of the word required on every occasion is certainly not a mere act of memory; no human memory would be capable of furnishing it, if man did not possess in himself instinctively the key, not only for the formation of words, but also for a continued process of association: upon this the whole system of human language is founded. By entering into the very substance of existing languages, it appears evident that they are intellectual creations, which do not at all pass from one individual to others, but can only emerge from the coexisting self-activity of all.

“―― ―― That one the names of things contrived,
And that from him their knowledge all derived,
‘Tis fond to think.”[33]

As long as the language lives in the mouth of a nation, the words are a progressive production and reproduction of the faculty to form words. In this manner only can we explain, without having recourse to a supernatural cause, how millions of men can agree to use the same words for every object, the same locution for every feeling.

Language in general is the sensible exterior vestment of thought; it is the product of the intelligence, and the expression of the character of mankind; in particular it may be considered as the exterior manifestation of the genius of nations: their language is their genius, and their genius is their language. We see of what use the investigation of idioms may be in tracing the affinities of nations. History and geography must be taken as guides in the researches upon tongues; but these researches would be futile, if languages were the irregular product of hazard. No: profound feeling and immediate clearness of vivid intuition act with wonderful regularity, and follow an unerring analogy. The genesis of languages may be assimilated to that of works of genius――I mean, of that creative faculty which gives rules to an art. Thus is it the language which dictates the grammar. Moreover, the utmost perfection of which an idiom is susceptible is a line like that of beauty, which, once attained, can never be surpassed. This was the case with some ancient tongues. Since that time, mankind appear to have lost a faculty or a talent, inasmuch as they are no more actuated by that urgency of keen feeling which was the very principle of the high perfection of those languages.

Comparative philology, a new science, sprung up within the last thirty years, but already grown to an unforeseen perfection, has fixed the principles by which the affinities of languages may be known, even among the apparently irregular disparities which various circumstances and revolutions of the different nations have created. This would have been impossible, if there did not exist a fundamental philosophy of language, however concealed, and a certain consistency, even in the seemingly most irregular modification of dialect, for instance, in that of pronunciation. But, even the permutation of letters in different and the most rude dialects, has its rules, and follows, within its own compass, a spontaneous analogy, such as is indispensable for the easy and common practice of a society more or less numerous. Thus sounds, grammatical forms, and even graphical signs of language have been subjected to analysis and comparison; the significant radical letters have been distinguished from the merely accidental letters, and a distinction has been established between what is fundamental, and what is merely historical and accidental.

From these considerations I conclude:

First――That the forgery of a language is in itself highly improbable;

Secondly――That, if it had been attempted, comparative philology is
perfectly capable of detecting it.

Taking a large historical view of this subject, we cannot suppress the following reflection: The formation of mighty and civilized states being admitted, even by our strictest chronologers, to have taken place at least twenty-five centuries before our era, it can but appear extraordinary, even after taking in account violent revolutions, that of so multitudinous and great existences, only such scanty documents should have come down to us. But, strange to say, whenever a testimony has escaped the destruction of time, instead of being greeted with a benevolent although discerning curiosity, the unexpected stranger is approached with mistrustful scrutiny, his voice is stifled with severe rebukes, his credentials discarded with scorn, and by a predetermined and stubborn condemnation, resuscitating antiquity is repelled into the tomb of oblivion.

I am aware that all dialectical arguments which have been or may be alleged against the probability of forging a language, would be of no avail against well-proved facts, that languages have been forged, and that works, written in them, exist. We may remember the example adduced by Richardson[34] of a language, as he said, “sufficiently original, copious, and regular to impose upon persons of very extensive learning,” forged by Psalmanazar. This was the assumed name of a an individual, whom the eminent Orientalist calls a Jew, but who, born in 1679, in Languedoc or in Provence, of Christian parents, received a Christian, nay theological education, as good as his first instructors, Franciscans, Jesuits, and Dominicans could bestow. This extraordinary person threw himself at a very early age into a career of adventures, in the course of which, at the age of seventeen years, he fell upon the wild project of passing for a native of the island of Formosa, first as one who had been converted to Christianity, then, as still a pagan, he let himself be baptized by a Scotch minister, by whom he was recommended to an English bishop; the latter, in his pious illusion, promoted at once the interests of the convertor, and the fraud of the neophyte.[35] This adventurer who was bold enough, while on the continent, to set about inventing a new character and language, a grammar, and a division of the year into twenty months, published in London, although not twenty years old, a translation of the catechism into his forged language of Formosa, and a history of the island with his own alphabetical writing, which read from right to left――a gross fiction the temporary success of which evinces the then prevailing ignorance in history, geography, and philology. But pious zeal and fanaticism had changed a scientific discussion into a religious quarrel, and for too long a time rendered vain the objections of a few truly learned and clear-sighted men; until the impostor, either incapable of supporting longer his pretensions or urged by his conscience, avowed the deception, and at last became a truly learned good and estimable man.[36] We see this example badly supports the cause of forged languages.

In 1805, M. Rousseau, since consul-general of France at Aleppo, found in a private library at Baghdad a dictionary of a language which is designated by the name of _Baláibalan_, interpreted “he who vivifies,” and written in Arabic characters called _Neshki_; it was explained in Arabic, Persian, and Turkish. The unknown author of the dictionary composed it for the intelligence of mysterious and occult sciences, written in that language. The highly learned Silvestre de Sacy had scarce been informed of this discovery, when he sought and found in the Royal Library, at Paris, the same dictionary, and with his usual diligence and sagacity published a short but lucid Notice of it.[37] What he said therein was sufficient for giving an idea of the manner in which this language participates in the grammatical forms of Arabic, Persian, and Turkish. Silvestre de Sacy, as well as M. Rousseau, have left it uncertain whether the language be dead or living; by whom and at what period it was formed, and what authors have made use of it. The former adds, that some works written in Baláibalan are likely to be found in the hands of the Súfis of Persia.

This language deserves perhaps a further examination. All that is positive in the just-adduced statement of the two great Orientalists may be said of any other language, which is not original but composed, as for instance the English or the Dutch, of more than one idiom. We can but admit that, at all times an association of men for a particular purpose, a school of art, science, and profession may have, has, and even must have, a particular phraseology. Any modification of ancient, or production of new, ideas, will create a modified or a new language; any powerful influence of particular circumstances will produce a similar effect; this is a spontaneous reproduction, and not the intentional forgery of a language.

Such a forgery, even if it could remain undetected, which it cannot in our times, would but furnish a curious proof of human ingenuity, to which no bounds can be assigned; but the true and sole object of a language could never be attained by it; because, never would a great number of independent men be disposed, nor could they be forced, to adopt the vocabulary, grammar, and locutions of a single man, and appropriate them to themselves for the perpetual expression of their inmost mind, and for the exchange of their mutual feelings and ideas.[38] To effect this, is a miracle ascribed to the Divinity, and with justice; being the evident result of the Heaven-bestowed faculty of speech, one of the perpetual miracles of the world.

Of this a prophet must avail himself who announces to the world the important intelligence of a heavenly revelation. The great purpose of his sacred mission implies the widest possible proclamation of his doctrine in a language generally intelligible, which a forged language never can be. If, as was surmised,[39] the Desátir be set up as a rival to the Koran, it must have been written in a national language for a nation; the Persians owned as theirs the _Mahabadian_ religion, the identical one which history, although not under the same name, attributes to them in remote ages, as will result from an examination of the doctrine itself.

Considering the knowledge required, and the difficulties to be overcome in forging a language in such a manner as to impose, even for a time, upon the credulity of others, we shall conclude that nothing less than direct proof is requisite for establishing such a forgery as a real fact. Now, what arguments have been set forth for declaring the language of the Desátir to be nothing else than “an artificial idiom invented to support an imposture?”

Silvestre de Sacy says:[40] “It is difficult indeed, not to perceive that the multiplied relations which exist between the _Asmáni_, ‘heavenly,’ and Persian languages are the result of a systematic operation, and not _the effect of hazard_, nor _that of time, which proceeds with less regularity in the alterations to which language is subjected_.”

I must apologise for here interrupting this celebrated author, for the purpose of referring to what nobody better than himself has established as a peremptory condition of existence for any language, and what he certainly never meant to deny, but may perhaps here be supposed to forget――namely, that a language is not “the effect of hazard,” and although “not the result of systematic combination,” yet, as an instinctive creation, shows surprising regularity, and that an evident rule predominates in the alterations which time produces in languages.

Silvestre de Sacy proceeds: “The grammar of the Mahabadian language is evidently, for the whole etymological part, and even (which is singularly striking) in what concerns the anomalous verbs, traced from (_calquée sur_) the Persian grammar, and as to the radical words, if there be many of them the origin of which is unknown, there is also a great number of them in which the Persian root, more or less altered, may be recognised without any effort.”

Erskine examined, without the least communication with the French critic, the Mahabadian language, and says:[41] “In its grammar it approaches very nearly to the modern Persian, as well in the inflection of the nouns and verbs, as in its syntax.” Norris[42] takes the very same view of it.

These highly respectable critics published their judgment upon the Mahabadian language before the comparison of several languages with the Sanscrit and between each other had been made by able philologers, creators of the new science of comparative philology. According to the latter, the proofs of the real affinity of language, that is, the proofs that two languages belong to the same family, are to be principally and can be properly deduced, from their grammatical system. Thus, for instance, the forms of the Greek and Latin languages are in several parts nearly identical with the Sanscrit, the first bearing a greater resemblance in one respect, the latter in another; the Greek verbs in _mi_, the Latin declension of some nouns appear, to use the expression of the illustrious author, “traced from each other (_calqués l’un sur l’autre_).” These two languages seem to have divided between them the whole system of the ancient grammar, which is most perfectly preserved in the Sanscrit. This language itself is probably, with the two mentioned, derived from a more ancient language; we meet in them three sisters recognised by their striking likeness. This, although more or less weakened and even obliterated in some features, remains upon the whole still perceptible in a long series of their relations: I mean in all those languages which are distinguished by the name of _Indo-germanic_, to which the Persian belongs.

But, in deciding upon the affinity of languages, not only the grammatical forms are to be examined, but also the system of sounds is to be studied, and the words must be considered in their roots and derivations. The three critics mentioned agree that the language of the Desátir is very similar to the Persian or Deri, not only in grammar, but also in etymology; a great number of the verbal and nominal roots are the same in both. This similarity would, according to comparative philology, lead to the conclusion that either the one is derived from the other, or that both proceed from a common parent; but nothing hitherto here alleged can justify the supposition of invention, forgery, or fabrication of the so-called Mahabadian language.

We continue to quote the strictures of Silvestre de Sacy: “There is however a yet stronger proof of the systematic operation which produced the factitious idiom. This proof I derive from the perfect and constant identity which prevails between the Persian phraseology and that of the Mahabadian idiom. The one and the other are, whenever the translation does not degenerate into paraphrase or commentary, which frequently happens, traced from each other (_calqués l’un sur l’autre_) in such a manner that each phrase, in both, has always the same number of words, and these words are always arranged in the same order. For producing such a result, we must admit two idioms, the grammar of which should be perfectly alike, as weil with respect to the etymological part as to the syntax, and their respective dictionaries offering precisely the same number of words, whether nouns, verbs, or particles: which would suppose two nations, having precisely the same number of ideas, whether absolute or relative, and conceiving but the same kind and the same number of relations.”

If what we have already stated be not unfounded, the last quoted paragraph, which the author calls “a yet stronger proof of the systematic operations which produced the factitious idiom” must be acknowledged not to have the weight which he would attribute to it. If the Mahabadian and Persian be languages related to each other, “a perfect and constant identity of phraseology between them both,” if even so great as it is said to be, is not only possible, but may be fairly expected in the avowed translation of the Desátir into Persian. Such identity is most religiously aimed at in versions of a sacred text. Need I adduce modern examples of translations which, in point of phraseological conformity with their original, may vie with the Persian version of the Mahabadian text? The supposition that two nations have the same number of ideas, absolute or relative, is far from being absurd: it is really the fact with all nations who are upon the same level of civilisation; but the present question is of the writings of the same nation, which, possessing at all times a sort of government and religion fundamentally the same, might easily count an obsolete language of its own among the monuments of its antiquity.

On that account, we cannot see what the former arguments of the critic gain in strength by the addition: “that the perfect identity of conception falls in a very great part upon abstract and metaphysical ideas, in which such a coincidence is infinitely more difficult than when the question is only of objects and relations perceptible to the senses.”――A great similarity is remarked in all forms of thinking. Little chance of being contradicted can be incurred in saying, that the fundamental ideas of metaphysics are common to all mankind, and inherent in human reason. The encyclopedian contents of the Dabistán, concerning the opinions of so many nations, would furnish a new proof of it, were this generally acknowledged fact in need of any further support.

Silvestre de Sacy acknowledges that the Asmáni language contains a great number of radical words, the origin of which is not known. Erskine says:[43] “It is certainly singular that the language in which the Desátir is written, like that in which the Zend-Avesta is composed, is no where else to be met with. It is not derived from the Zend, the Pehlevi, the Sanscrit, Arabic, Turkish, Persian, or any other known language.” * * * * * * The basis of the language, and the great majority of words in it, belong to no known tongue. It is a mixture of Persian and Indian words. A few Arabic words occur.” Norris[44] also found that a great part of the language appears to have little resemblance to any other that was ever spoken. A judgment, so expressed, might induce an impartial mind to ascribe originality to at least a part of the Asmáni language; which would naturally render the other part less liable to suspicion, inasmuch as it would have been not less difficult to execute, but less easy to conceal, a partial than a total forgery. Nevertheless it so happens that the dissimilarity from any other, as well as the similarity to one particular idiom, are both equally turned against the genuineness of the language in question: where dissimilarity exists, there is absolute forgery――where similarity, an awkward disguise!

Erskine continues: “The Persian system it is unnecessary to particularise; but it is worthy of attention that, among the words of Indian origin, not only are many Sanscrit, which might happen in a work of a remote age, but several belong to the colloquial language of Hindustán: this is suspicious, and seems to mark a much more recent origin. Many words indeed occur in the Desátir that are common to the Sanscrit and to the vulgar Indian languages (the author quotes thirty-four of them); many others might be pointed out. But the most remarkable class of words is that which belongs to the pure Hindi; such I imagine are the word _shet_, ‘respectable,’ prefixed to the names of prophets and others (twenty-four are adduced). Whatever may be thought of the words of Persian descent, it is not probable that those from the Hindustaní are of a very remote age; they may perhaps be regarded as considerably posterior to the settlement of the Muselmans in India.”

Strongly supported by the opinion of respectable philologers, I do not hesitate to draw a quite contrary conclusion from the facts stated by Erskine. It should be remembered that, in the popular or vulgar dialects are often found remains of ancient tongues, namely, roots of words, locutions, nay rules of grammar which have become obsolete, or disappeared in the cultivated idioms derived from the same original language. It was not without reason that the illustrious William Humboldt recommended to the Royal Asiatic Society of Great Britain and Ireland,[45] to examine, on behalf of general Oriental philology, the different provincial dialects of India. Even the gibberish of gypsies is not to be neglected for that purpose.[46]

Thus, if we are not greatly mistaken, the very arguments alleged to show that the Mahabadian language is an invention or forgery, lead rather to a contrary conclusion. Duly sensible of the great weight of authority which opposes the result of my inquiry, I sought an explanation of the severe judgment passed upon the Desátir, and venture to surmise that it was occasioned by the certainly extravagant claim to a heavenly origin and incredible antiquity which has been attached to this work. Such pretensions, taken in too serious a light, can but hurt a fixed, if not religious, belief. Every nation acknowledges but one heavenly book, and rejects every other. Hence arises a very natural, and even respectable pre-conception against all that appears without the limits traced by religion, or mere early habit and adopted system. Thus a severe censure is provoked. To annihilate at once the impertinent pretension to a divine origin, all that ingenuity can suggest is brought forward to prove the book to be a fraudulent forgery; to strip it of the awful dignity of antiquity, it must by any means be represented as the work of yesterday. But error is not fraud, and may be as ancient as mankind itself; because credulous, a man is not the forger of a document. If the Mahabadian language is not that primitive idiom from which the Sanscrit, the Zend, and other languages are derived, it does not follow that it is “a mere jargon, fabricated with no great address to support a religious or philosophical imposture;”[47] if it was not spoken in Iran long before the establishment of the Péshdadian monarchy, it does not follow “that it has at no time belonged to any tribe or nation on the face of the earth.”