Persian Prose Volume V: A History of Persian Literature, Vol V 9780755617821, 9781845119065

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CONTRIBUTORS Mehran Afshari studied at Tehran University, and his M.A. thesis, a critical edition of Âdâb al-tariq (related to the Sufi Qalandariyya order), was published in Tehran in 2015. He is a contributor and an academic member of the board of the Islamic Encyclopaedia Foundation, Tehran, and a visiting professor at several institutions in Tehran. His publications include over a hundred research articles and books on fotovvat (chivalry) and Persian folk literature, including: Haft lashkar: tumâr-e jâme’-e naqqâlân (Seven armies: a comprehensive story tellers’ scroll), co-edited with Mehdi Madâyeni (Tehran, 1998); Chahârdah resâle dar bâb-e fotovvat va asnâf (Fourteen treatises about chivalry and guilds), co-edited with Mehdi Madâyeni (Tehran, 2002); an edition of Fotovvatnâme-hâ va rasâ’el-e Khâksâriyye: si resâle (Khâksâri chivalry manuals and tracts: 30 treatises) (Tehran, 2003); Qesse-ye HoseynKord-e Shabestari bar asâs-e ravâyat-e nâshenâkhte-ye mowsum be Hoseyn-nâme (The story of Hoseyn-Kord-e Shabestari on the basis of the anonymous redaction entitled ‘Hoseyn-nâme’), coedited with Iraj Afshar (Tehran, 2006). Sonja Brentjes is a researcher at the Max Planck Institute for the History of Science (MPIWG), Berlin. She received her Ph.D. in 1977 from the Technical University, Dresden; her M.A. in Near Eastern Studies in 1982 from the Martin Luther University, Halle/ Saale; her Dr. sc. from the Karl Marx University, Leipzig; and her Habilitation in 1992 from the University of Leipzig. She has taught and has conducted research at universities and institutes in the German Democratic Republic, the Federal Republic of Germany, France, the United States, the United Kingdom, Pakistan, and Spain. Since 2012, she has been conducting research at the MPIWG. Her initial topic was the history of modern mathematics, but since xiii

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the 1990s she has focused primarily on Islamicate societies in the period between the 8th and the 17th centuries on a broad range of subjects in the history of science and cross-cultural encounters. Her publications include “Mathematical Commentaries in Arabic and Persian—Purposes, Forms, and Styles,” Historia Mathematica 47 (2019); Teaching and Learning the Sciences in Islamicate Societies, 800-1700 (Turnhout, 2018); “Visualization and Material Cultures of the Heavens in Eurasia and North Africa” in S. Schmidtke, ed., Near and Middle Eastern Studies at the Institute for Advanced Study, Princeton, 1935-2018 (Piscataway, N.J. 2018); “Safavid Art, Science, and Courtly Education in the Seventeenth Century” in Nathan Sidoli and Glen Van Brummelen, eds., From Alexandria, Through Baghdad: Surveys and Studies in the Ancient Greek and Medieval Islamic Mathematical Sciences in Honor of J. L. Berggren (Heidelberg 2014); Elio Brancaforte and Sonja Brentjes, eds., “From Rhubarb to Rubies: European Travels to Safavid Iran (15501700)” and “The Lands of the Sophi: Iran in Early Modern European Maps (1550-1700),” Harvard Library Bulletin 23/1-2 (2012); and “The Mathematical Sciences in the Safavid Empire: Questions and Perspectives” in Denis Hermann and Fabrizio Speziale, eds., Muslim Cultures in the Indo-Iranian World during the Early-Modern and Modern Periods (Berlin, 2010). Bert G. Fragner studied Oriental and Islamic Studies at the universities of Vienna and Tehran and received his Ph.D. in 1970 (Vienna). From 1970 to 1985, he was assistant professor at the University of Freiburg. He passed his Habilitation in 1977 (a study of Persian memoir-writing in the 19th century). He was Professor of Iranian Studies at the Free University of Berlin (1985-89) and at the University of Bamberg (1989-2003), where he established a new department for Iranian studies. From 2003 to 2009, he was founding director of the Institute of Iranian Studies at the Austrian Academy of Sciences in Vienna, retiring in 2010. His research encompasses the cultural, economic, and social history of Iran, Afghanistan, and Central Asia from the late Middle Ages to the 20th century, and various aspects of cultural studies concerning these areas. His numerous articles and texts include Die ‘Persophonie’: Regionalität, Identität und Sprachkontakt xiv

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in der Geschichte Asiens (Berlin and Halle, 1999; a Persian translation, Fârsi-zabâni, was published in Tehran, and a Russian translation in 2018); Persische Memoirenliteratur als Quelle zur neueren Geschichte Irans (Wiesbaden 1979; tr. into Persian as Khâterât-nevisi-ye Irâniyân, Tehran, 1998); Geschichte der Stadt Hamadan und ihrer Umgebung in den ersten sechs Jahrhunderten der Hiğra (Vienna, 1972), and Repertorium persischer Herrscherurkunden (Freiburg im Breisgau, 1980); and the chapter on “Social and Economic Conditions” in CHIr, vol. VI. Ali Gheissari is Professor of History at the University of San Diego. He studied Law and Political Science at Tehran University and History at St. Antony’s College, Oxford. He has written extensively in Persian and English on the intellectual history of modern Iran and on modern philosophy and social theory. He has edited the following books: Fruits of Gardens (Fawāka al-Basātin), a philosophical miscellany in Arabic and Persian in late Qajar Iran, c. 1914, by Hâjj Mirzâ Mohammad Tehrâni (ed. and intr., Qom, 2019); Journal of Despotism (Majalla-ye Estebdâd), a complete set of a satirical periodical during Iran’s Constitutional period, 1907–8 (ed. and intr., Tehran, 2019); Illuminationist Texts and Textual Studies: Essays in Memory of Hossein Ziai (eds., Leiden, 2017); Contemporary Iran: Economy, Society, Politics (ed., Oxford and New York, 2009); Tabriz and Rasht in the Iranian Constitutional Revolution, by Hâjj Mohammad-Taqi Jurâbchi (ed. and intr., Tehran, 2008). He has authored the following books: Democracy in Iran: History and the Quest for Liberty (coauthor, Oxford and New York, 2006, 2009); Iranian Intellectuals in the Twentieth Century (Austin, 1998, 2008); Persian translation of Immanuel Kant’s Groundwork of the Metaphysic of Ethics (co-tr., Tehran, 1991, new edition, 2015); Manfred Frings et al., Max Scheler and Phenomenology (tr., Tehran, 2015); The Concept of Time in Kant and Other Essays (Tehran, 2018). He is a consulting editor and contributor to the Encyclopaedia Iranica; and is on the Editorial Board of Iran Studies book series (published by Brill, Leiden). He is also the Editor-in-Chief of Iranian Studies; and serves on the Board of Directors of the Persian Heritage Foundation. His current research is on aspects of legal and constitutional history of modern Iran. xv

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Paul Losensky (Ph.D. University of Chicago, 1993) is Professor in the Department of Central Eurasian Studies and the Department of Comparative Literature at Indiana University, Bloomington, where he teaches Persian language and literature, comparative studies of Western and Middle Eastern literatures, and translation studies. His research focuses on Persian literary historiography, biographical writing, and Persian poetry of the 16th and 17th centuries. His publications include Welcoming Fighāni: Imitation and Poetic Individuality in the Safavid-Mughal Ghazal (Costa Mesa, Calif., 1998), Farid ad-Din ‘Attār’s Memorial of God’s Friends: Lives and Sayings of Sufis (New York, 2009), and In the Bazaar of Love: Selected Poetry of Amir Khusrau (New York and New Delhi, 2013; tr. with Sunil Sharma). He has authored numerous articles on Persian literature for journals such as Iranian Studies and is a frequent contributor to the Encyclopaedia of Islam and the Encyclopaedia Iranica. He is a former fellow at the National Humanities Center and currently serves as chair of the Department of Comparative Literature at Indiana University. Louise Marlow, Professor of Religion at Wellesley College, received her undergraduate degree from Cambridge University and her Ph.D. from Princeton University. She is the author of Counsel for Kings: Wisdom and Politics in Tenth-Century Iran (Edinburgh, 2016) and Hierarchy and Egalitarianism in Islamic Thought (Cambridge, 1997). She is also the editor of The Rhetoric of Biography: Narrating Lives in Persianate Societies (Boston and Washington, D.C., 2011), Dreaming across Boundaries: The Interpretation of Dreams in Islamic Lands (Boston and Washington, D.C., 2008), and, with Beatrice Gruendler, Writers and Rulers: Perspectives on Their Relationships from Abbasid to Safavid Times (Wiesbaden, 2004). Colin Mitchell is a specialist of medieval and early-modern Iran and Persianate culture, with interests in court politics, religion, diplomatics, and literature. He graduated from the University of Toronto in 2002 and held a Mellon Postdoctoral Fellowship at Cornell University (2002-3) before permanently joining the xvi

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Department of History at Dalhousie University in 2003. Since then, he has published a number of books and articles on various aspects of pre-modern Iranian history. Currently, he is working on a history of princes and succession politics in the medieval Islamic world, ranging from Anatolia to South Asia. Iraj Parsinejad studied at the University of Tehran, completing his B.A. in Persian Literature and M.A. in Linguistics. He has studied as a post-graduate student at Wolfson College, Oxford (197478). He was appointed as a visiting professor at Tokyo University of Foreign Studies in 1985 and subsequently as a full-time faculty member, serving for 17 years. His main field of research is literary criticism in Iran. His book A History of Literary Criticism in Iran, 1866-1951 (Bethesda, Md., 2003) is a comprehensive study of the works of modern intellectuals in Iran. He is also the author of a series of monographs on leading figures in the field of contemporary literary criticism in Iran from Akhundzadeh to Shafi’i Kadkani. Francis Richard was keeper in charge of Persian manuscripts in the Bibliothèque nationale de France (Paris) from 1974 to 2003, director of the Islamic Art Department at the Louvre Museum (2003-2006), scientific director of the Bibliothèque universitaire des langues et civilisations (BULAC) library (Paris) and director of the French Institute in Central Asia (IFEAC) from 2010 to 2012, now retired. He has published catalogues of the Persian manuscripts in the Bibliothèque nationale (Paris, 1989 and Rome, 2013), exhibition catalogues (Splendeurs persanes, Paris, 1997), as well as several monographs (including Raphael du Mans, Paris, 1995; Le livre persan, Paris, 2003) and articles. His research is focused on Persian manuscripts and codicology, Persian miniature painting, relations between Europe and the Middle East, and the history of collections. Bo Utas is Professor Emeritus of Iranian Studies at Uppsala University, Sweden. He received his PhD in Iranian languages from Upp­ sala University in 1973 and was appointed as a professor there in 1988. His research covers many aspects of Middle and New Iranian xvii

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languages, especially varieties of Persian, and literary, religious, and historical topics connected with the use of those languages. He specializes in Persian manuscripts, Sufi texts, and Persian metrics. Publications range from his dissertation Tarîq ut-Tahqîq: A Critical Edition, with a History of the Text and Commentary (Lund, 1973) to the book The Virgin and Her Lover: Fragments of an Ancient Greek Novel and a Persian Epic Poem (Leiden, 2003). Recently his collected papers on Persian literature were reprinted in a volume entitled Manuscript, Text and Literature: Collected Essays on Middle and New Persian Texts (Beiträge zur Iranistik 29, Wiesbaden, 2008), and his linguistic papers in From Old to New Persian (Beiträge zur Iranistik 38, Wiesbaden, 2013). His most recent publication is an edition of the mathnavi Mesbâh al-arvâh (as The Lantern of Spirits, Beiträge zur Iranistik 44, Wiesbaden, 2019). Ziva Vesel graduated in Persian (second language Arabic) in 1974 from the Institut national des langues et civilisations orientales (INaLCO), Paris. She received her MA (in Persian literature) in 1976 and her doctorate (on Persian encyclopedism) in 1983 at the Université de la Sorbonne Nouvelle-Paris III. As a member of the Centre National de la Recherche Scientifique (CNRS), Paris, from 1983 to 2013, she specialized in the history of science and scientific literature in Persian in relation to its Arabic models (10th-19th centuries), working in particular on manuscripts. She made regular missions of research to Iran, including a two years residence (198688) at the Institut Français de Recherche en Iran (IFRI), Tehran. She organized three congresses (with published proceedings). She also directed and edited a collaborative study of scientific illustrations in manuscripts (Ziva Vesel, Sergei Tourkin, and Yves Porter, eds., with the collaboration of Francis Richard and Farid Ghasemloo, Images of Islamic Science: Illustrated Manuscripts from the Iranian World, Tehran, 2009). Her publications include studies on a range of topics: Les encyclopédies persanes: Essai de typologie et de classification des sciences (Paris, 1986), tr. into Persian; “Les encyclopédies persanes: culture scientifique en langue vernaculaire” in C. de Callataÿ and B. van den Abeele, eds., Une lumière venue d’ailleurs: Héritages et ouvertures dans les encyclopédies d’Orient et d’Occident au xviii

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Moyen Age (Turnhout 2009); “Les figures astrologiques dans les textes persans” in Iván Szanto, ed., From Asl to Zâ’id: Essays in Honour of Eva M. Jeremiás (Piliscsaba, 2015); “Le Sirr al-maktûm de Fakhr al-dîn Râzî (606 H/1210) face à la Ghâyat al-Hakîm” in Jean-Patrice Boudet, Anna Caiozzo, and Nicolas Weill-Parot, eds., Images et magie: “Picatrix” entre Orient et Occident, Paris, 2011); “Textes et lieux: L’apport des dynasties mineures de l’Iran oriental à l’histoire des sciences” in Francis Richard and Maria Szuppe, eds., Écrit et culture en Asie centrale et dans le monde turco-iranien, XeXIXe siècles/Writing and Culture in Central Asia and the TurkoIranian World, 10th-19th Centuries (Paris, 2009).

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INTRODUCTION Bo Utas This volume of A History of Persian Literature treats works written in prose. A number of other volumes in this series of publications are also concerned with Persian prose. Thus Volume X (published in 2012) treats Persian Historiography and the forthcoming Volume IV on Religious and Mystical Literature will also have much to say on works in prose. Other published volumes in this series also partially address works written in prose, namely Volume IX: Persian Prose from Outside Iran, and Volume XI: Literature of the early Twentieth Century. There are also projected volumes in the series such as Volume XIII: Modern Fiction and Drama, which will doubtless have far more to say on the development of modern Persian prose. Inevitably therefore, there will be some overlap with the presentations found in the ten chapters of this book in other volumes in the series. Here, we aim to survey and underline the literary characteristics of Persian works in prose written through one thousand years. In the Persian context, the concepts “literature” and “literary” are far from clear, hardly from a modern Iranian point-of-view and definitely not from a Classical Persian point-of-view. The modern European concept of “literature” has clearly been copied into the modern Persian term adabiyyât, a collective plural of the adjective adabi, in its turn a derivation of the Classical Arabic (and Persian) adab “politeness, urbanity, good-breeding, refined education, etiquette, etc.” Adab was thus used in Classical Persian for phenomena that may be covered by our modern term “literature,” but it also included numerous things that we would not think of as “literature.” In the earliest Classical Persian usage, it was interchangeable xxi

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with farhang (on which the Arabic concept adab seems to have been coined). In early New Persian (i. e., the Persian language after the rise of Islam) usage, farhang was still strongly colored by the pre-Islamic (Sasanian) concept of frahang, a word used for “good education” in general, including the “liberal arts” as well as practical skills, such as riding, polo, chess, and backgammon. In later (New) Persian usage, the meaning of farhang was gradually confined to “dictionary” and generalized to “culture.” The changes that this word has undergone through the centuries are indicative of a general difficulty in a diachronic study like this. All terms that belong to the nebulous sphere of “literature” have continually—and considerably—changed their frames of reference during the more than eleven centuries of Persian usage. Thus, another central word found in early Classical Persian texts for something that would aptly suit our idea of “literature” is sokhan, not in its strict sense of “word,” but in this context the “word” par excellence, i. e., the pregnant, elevated, elaborated “word” (sokhan-e ârâste). This could be one key to the formulation of an historically neutral definition of “literature,” namely texts written in an embellished language. An additional component would be narrativity, with the one not being a prerequisite for the other.1 The presentations found in this volume will try to address this kind of “literariness” in various ways. With the advent of Islam, the political and cultural situation in Iran changed gradually and, in the end, dramatically, but at the same time age-old Iranian cultural forms and structures lived on in new guises. This is first of all seen in the linguistic development. Already in the 8 th century ce, we find the beginnings of a new Muslim Iranian high language, first known as Dari (i. e. “court language”) and later as Persian, also called New Persian to distinguish it from Old and Middle Persian. This new language was based on Sasanian Middle Persian but was written using the Arabic alphabet. It adopted a growing number of Arabic loan-words, so many, in 1

See Bo Utas, “ ‘Genres’ in Persian Literature, 900–1900,” in Gunilla Lindberg-­Wada, ed., Literary History: Towards a Global Perspective, Vol. II: Literary Genres: An Intercultural Approach (Berlin, 2006), pp. 199–206.

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fact, that by the 13 th century almost 50 % of the vocabulary was of Arabic origin, corresponding to some 20 % of the actual word occurrences in ordinary texts. Among educated people, a bi-lingual use of Arabic and Persian became common, often supplemented by bi- and multi-lingualism in practical and oral contexts. Already before the advent of Islam, the Iranian area was ethnically mixed, but from the 9 th century onwards a new element entered the scene, namely nomadic and semi-nomadic Turkic groups that became militarily and politically dominant from the 11 th century onwards. With them an Arabic-Persian-Turkic tri-lingual system was established with Arabic for religious and legal concerns, Persian for administrative and literary matters, and Turkish for military nomenclature. At the same time Persian gained importance far beyond the borders of Iran, becoming a favored literary medium in India, Central Asia, and Anatolia. Since time immemorial, the literary heritage of Iran had mainly been transmitted orally. This goes not only for songs, poetry, epics, and narratives, but also for religious texts. Only chronicles and administrative-economic texts were regularly put to writing. But under the new political circumstances, previously oral genres started to be written down in the new language. This process was accelerated by a veritable revolution in Iranian written culture: the introduction of the art of paper-making. After the battle of Talas in 751, the victorious Muslim army brought a number of Chinese prisoners of war to Samarqand. These prisoners introduced the technique of paper-making to the Muslim world. From Samarqand, which remained a center for paper-making for centuries, the art spread westwards, and a paper manufacturing workshop was already established in Baghdad by 795. Up to then, the lack of readily available writing materials had greatly hampered the codification of texts. The use of paper opened the doors to a remarkable development that led to the shaping of a veritable Muslim script world. Within a few centuries a widespread “manuscript culture” was established: Written texts were made available at an unprecedented scale, and manuscripts were often produced as genuine pieces of art with much emphasis on calligraphy, illustrations (“miniatures”), and xxiii

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exquisite bindings.2 From the 10 th century onwards there must have been a rapid increase in the production of Persian manuscripts. However, this remains conjectural, since very little of early Persian writing has been preserved. Persian manuscripts from the time before the Mongol invasion in the middle of the 13 th century are quite rare. The oldest sizeable manuscript of a Persian text that we have to-day is a pharmacopœa copied in 1056. This culture of hand-written manuscripts continued through centuries and survived until the advent of book-printing, which was quite late in reaching Iran. Although the reform-minded Qajar crown prince Abbâs Mirzâ established a printing press in Tabriz in 1812, there were still problems and obstacles. The cursive way of writing the Arabic-Persian script was found less suitable for typographic print, and therefore lithographic techniques remained the preferred option as late as the first decade of the 20 th century. Moreover, lithographs of Persian works were to a great extent produced in colonial India and brought from there to Iran. On the whole, lithographed books, printed from texts written by hand on stone, differed very little from traditional manuscripts. The most important difference was that they could be produced in many copies and sold at much lower costs, thus reaching a broader circle of readers. * * * After the Arab conquest and the dominance of a new religion and the establishment of a new political order, centered from 751 on the caliphate in Baghdad, cultural institutions changed radically in Iranian lands. The Zoroastrian system of religious education was gradually replaced by Islamic schools (madrasas), although the 9 th–10 th centuries still saw a flourishing production of Zoroastrian books in the Middle Persian language (Pahlavi). Apart from education in the religious schools, the upper classes continued a system of private teaching in their homes, which also could include their 2

See Johannes Pedersen, Den arabiske Bog (Copenhagen, 1946), tr.. Geoffrey French as The Arabic Book (Princeton, 1984); Jonathan Bloom, Paper before Print: The History and Impact of Paper in the Islamic World (New Haven, 2001).

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daughters. This must have meant a considerable female participation in literary culture, but owing to the secluded role of women in the public domain there are few traces of this. The system of private education played an important role in the revival of Iranian-based culture that started in the local courts of Eastern Iran under new leaders who carved out a relative semi-independence from the caliphate in the 9 th and 10 th centuries. This is the milieu in which the New Persian literature was born. The most important of the early East-Iranian dynasties, the Samanids (864– 1000), had Persian replace Arabic as administrative language and was instrumental in having books written in it. At their courts in Samarqand and Bukhara, poets, officials, historians, theologians, and scientists were encouraged to perform, compose, and write in Persian. Thus, the Samanid grand vizier Bal’ami summarized the famous Arabic World History (Ta’rikh ar-rosol va’l-moluk, “Annals of the Prophets and the Kings”) of Tabari in Persian, with some additions here and there, and a special commission made a somewhat free Persian adaptation of Tabari’s commentary (Tafsir) on the Qur’an. The patronage of learning and literature was continued and extended at the courts of the following Ghaznavid (999–1157) and Saljuq (1038–1105) dynasties. In this way, the Persian language was consciously developed both as an administrative and a literary medium in a wide array of genres: epics, lyrics, historiography, epistolography, wisdom literature, and prose tracts on a wide array of subjects. At the turn of the first millennium ce, most of the genres, both in prose and verse, that make up Persian Classical literature had crystallized. Through the strong Arabic presence in and around the Persian language, those textual categories were to a great extent identical in the two languages. As a rule, the genres first developed in Arabic through the combined efforts of Arabs, Iranians of various linguistic background, and other nations and ethnic groups who took part in building the great Islamic cultural synthesis—not least through intense translation activities. Here “Islamic” is somewhat misleading, since Jews, Christians (especially Syrians/Aramaeans), Zoroastrians, and Buddhists also made considerable contributions. Then, during the 10 th century, these Arabic genres were Persianized one by one. xxv

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As regards prose writing, the scribes or secretaries of the chanceries of governors and rulers played a crucial role. One of the founders of Arabic secretarial style was the Persian Zoroastrian convert to Islam known in Arabic as Abd-Allâh Ebn-al-Moqaffa’ (his Persian name was Rōzbeh son of Dādōē), who was executed in Baghdad in 756 at the age of 36. He was not only a master of fine Arabic style and epistolography (so called enshâ’) but also as a translator of numerous works from Middle Persian (Pahlavi) into Arabic. Through his versions of earlier, indigenous as well as foreign historical and literary works (like Khwadây-nâmag and Kalile va Demne, cf. below) and his own ethical and didactic tracts (like the mirror for princes al-Adab al-kabîr), he introduced an enlarged conception of the traditional Arabic adab as “fine culture, etiquette, belles-lettres,” so that it also encompassed the cultural heritage of Greece/Byzantium, Iran, and India. From his time adab became the very essence of high Abbasid culture. When, some two centuries later, a new class of Persian secretaries appeared, they adopted this secretarial culture of epistolography and adab in their Iranian contexts, making it a cornerstone of the rising Persian literature. The adab tradition introduced a strong emphasis on fine style, a care for precise choice of words, expressions, and metaphors. In this, prose writing was also greatly influenced by poetry. Verses, in Arabic as well as in Persian, were frequently quoted, and some genres had a predilection for a kind of rhythmic or so-called “rhyming prose” (saj’) that moved prose composition closer to poetry. Elaborate language and rhetorical embellishment were seen as mighty instruments for changing the order of this world and reaching out for the next—celestial—world. * * * The development of epistolography, or enshâ’, is thus a central category of written Persian texts. Its background in early Arabic theory and practice and the ensuing Persian development is elaborated by Colin Mitchell in Chapter 1, which he starts by pointing out that “Epistolography occupied a profound epistemological space during a time of significant change in the medieval Persianate xxvi

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world.” His exposé shows the importance of Arabic models for the development enshâ’ (as well as of most written forms of Persian prose) including the application of rhetorical devices (balâghat). He demonstrates that elaborate language was a prerequisite of epistolography, thus presenting an argument for regarding enshâ’ as “literature.”3 This chapter also demonstrates the quickly growing influence of various forms of Sufism on all kinds of literary activity. In his survey, Mitchell limits his presentation to the so-called medieval period, i. e., 1000–1500, though clearly secretarial activities of the kind described flourished for many centuries after. A strong didactical element can be detected in Iranian literatures since pre-Islamic times. Good counsel, practical advice, and ethical instruction found expression already in Middle Persian texts that influenced early Islamic literature, not least in Arabic. This genre, or rather cluster of genres, is characterized both by a stress on the efficiency of elaborate language and the use of illustrative stories. In her chapter on “Advice Literature,” Louise Marlow takes up “four types of literary expression in which the advisory objective has featured most conspicuously.” These types are described as moralizing sentences (sententiae), collections of narratives and stories, mirrors for princes, and treatises on ethics. In her introduction, she describes how this “ethical sensibility and a concern with moral instruction feature prominently in large portions of the Pahlavi (Middle Persian) and New Persian literary corpora,” and how the Middle Persian heritage initially influenced authors writing in Arabic who were instrumental in shaping genres that were then adopted by Persian. In the four following sections, she demonstrates how a rich production of didactical and ethical works mix philosophy with biography, anecdotes, and illustrative examples. A new element was brought into the rich heritage of advice literature with the rapid growth of Sufism from the 11 th century onwards. Marlow emphasizes “the emergence and spread of the khânaqâh, as well as the development of a theory and language of Sufism, both in Arabic … and Persian …” 3

Cf. Jürgen Paul, “Enšāʾ”. EIr VIII, pp. 455–57.

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Chapter 3 treats what may be called “expository and analytical discourse,” i. e., a variety of texts generally referred to with designations such as resâle, maqâle and, in a narrower sense, ketâb. In his presentation, Ali Gheissari notes that the scope of this type of text is vast, “both in terms of the variety of its subject matter and also in terms of the range of genres that it has used throughout different periods of its long history.” Again, the dependence on Arabic models, the use of rhetorical devices, elaborate language, and illustrative anecdotes and stories are brought out. A full section is devoted to “Mystical and Meditative Prose,” treating the writings of Sufi masters like Hojviri, Ansâri, and Ahmad Ghazâli. This chapter finally treats “modern variations of prose, such as political tracts, with new characteristics and complexities of their own.” Scientific works are obviously the most diverse category of texts treated in this volume and may in fact be regarded as lying outside the domain of literature, but Ziva Vesel, in collaboration with Sonja Brentjes, demonstrates through their references and examples the importance of a “literary” conception in their production. According to the medieval classifications learned literature is divided into “traditional sciences” (olum-e naqli) and “intellectual/rational sciences” (olum-e aqli). The traditional sciences, which are mainly represented by linguistic, literary, religious, and historical studies, are described in other chapters of this volume. The rational sciences, which were inherited from Sasanian, Greek, Indian, and Syriac traditions of the pre-Islamic period, transmitted, among other things, Aristotelian philosophy. Chapter 4 takes examples from a broad array of what is called “expository discourse in science”: namely encyclopedias, cosmographies, mathematical sciences (arithmetic, algebra, astronomy, astrology), natural philosophy/physical sciences (meteorology, mineralogy, botany, zoology, geography), medicine (medical encyclopedias, anatomy, pharmacology), and agriculture. In these fields, the Iranian world produced texts in Arabic as well as in Persian, the latter from the very beginning of the New Persian written language in the 10 th century. They provide ample examples of what can be called the Arabic-Persian “commensality,” first mainly Arabic works translated into Persian but from the 13 th century onwards also the other way around. A care for a “literary” xxviii

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style characterizes much of this output, and in some instances the full literary arsenal is employed, especially in the introductions to various texts, where we can find short poems, Qur’anic verses, and anecdotes. A writer like Mostowfi (14 th century) even introduced his own Arabic and Persian poems. A short chapter (5), written by Francis Richard, is devoted to works on calligraphy. This serves as an introduction to the magnificent Persian manuscript culture that developed after the art of paper-making was introduced as well as to its importance for the production, spread and reception of Persian literature. As Richard puts it, “to write is an art but also a science,” and some treatises establish the rules of this science while some also have literary or esoteric aims of their own, at times also showing an influence of Sufism. In the beginning, Arabic tracts on calligraphy, not least Qur’anic, served as models, and later on Persian works produced in India gained special importance. Written in prose as well as in verse, works on calligraphy may also treat other aspects of the arts of the book such as ink, paper-making, gilding, and book-binding.4 The style of these works can be quite literary, including biographical anecdotes and poetic quotations in Arabic as well as Persian. The “literariness” of Persian historiography has been much discussed, and views on this subject have been quite varied.5 With regard to the uncertainty about how to define “literature” in an historical Iranian context, this is quite natural. Bert Fragner’s Chapter 6 on historiography starts with a discussion of the various arguments for and against a literary reading of Persian historical texts. Twentieth-century Iranian critics and commentators, with Malekal-Sho’arâ Bahâr as the leading example, maintained that chronicles should be seen as literary works by specialists in literature and as historical sources by historians. European scholars like Bertold 4

5

See Najib Mâyel-Haravi, Ketâb-ârâyi dar tamaddon-e Eslâmi: majmu’e-ye rasâ’el dar zamine-ye khōshnevisi, morakkab-sâzi, kâghaz-geri, tadhhib va tajlid; be-enżemâm-e farhang-e vâzhegân-e neẓâm-e ketâb-ârâyi (Mashhad, 1993). See, among others, Julie Scott Meisami, “History as Literature” in Charles Melville (ed.), Persian Historiography (= HPL X; London and New York, 2012), pp. 1–55; and “History as Literature,” IrSt 33/1–2 (2000), pp. 15–30.

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Spuler, Jean Sauvaget, and Bernard Lewis have rather seen Persian historiography as dependent on Arabic chronicle writing, with Tabari’s fundamental Arabic World History (already mentioned) as the foremost model. However, already the Persian version of this work compiled by Bal’ami betrays an Iranian approach to the writing of history, telling stories rather than producing strictly verified annals. The early, anonymous Mojmal al-tavârikh va’l-qesas (Compilation of Histories and Stories), indicates this in its very title with the introduction of the plural of qesse, i. e. “story” or “tale.” This follows an age-old Iranian predilection for the use of stories for entertainment as well as didactic purposes. This should not be mistaken for a preference for what we nowadays call “fiction” before “facts.” History was certainly concerned with telling what had truly happened. Another important model for Persian historiography is Ferdowsi’s Shâh-nâme. Particularly from the Mongol period onwards, this so-called “national epic” had an immense influence on the very conception of Iranian history and the manner of narrating it in both verse and prose. The preoccupation with style, that is to write in a fecund language, using all possibilities of balâghat (rhetoric), was also present from the very beginning, however with a tendency of using ornate language growing through the centuries, something that has been called the “literarization” of Persian historiography. Biographical writing appears in many shapes in Persian literature but more specifically in the genres known as tadhkere and manâqeb. As described by Paul Losensky in chapter 7, the manâqeb are mainly concerned with the life of a single individual, a descendant of the Prophet, a Sufi sheikh, or the like, often akin to hagiography. The tadhkere, on the other hand, does not deal with single individuals but includes biographical notices of a great number of persons (even thousands) belonging to particular social or professional classes. The close relation with both historiography and the genres known as resâle and maqâle is evident. Like those, both the tadhkere and the manâqeb start from Arabic models, more precisely the tabaqât (‘generations’) and the sire (life of the Prophet), but quickly develop Persian characteristics of their own. In both, the lives, sayings, and miracles of Sufis form an important part. In xxx

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the manâqeb, words uttered or written and miracles performed by the saints become more important than biographical details about their lives. From a literary point-of-view, the tadhkeres devoted to poets are of particular interest. According to Losensky, they “draw together their lives and works into a collective vision and history of the literary art” and through ample quotations of poetry they often come close to anthologies. Occasionally, female participation, too, attracts attention, as in an appendix to Jâmi’s Nafahât ol-ons on “women poets” (zanân-e âref) and special biographical compendiums on women poets by Fakhri-Haravi and Akhundzâde. Stylistically, both tadhkere and the manâqeb may be characterized by the same care of refined language as the other classical prose genres, including internal rhymes, use of rhetoric devices, poetical quotations in both Persian and Arabic, etc.—although at times in a more colloquial style, thus betraying oral origins. The age-old Iranian predilection for storytelling has already been mentioned. This was combined with a strong tradition of both entertainment and education/good advice. In Chapter 8, entitled “Stories and Tales: Entertainment as Literature,” Mehran Afshari treats the exceedingly rich repertoire of stories and tales referred to as dâstân, qesse, revâyat, and hekâyat. Iranian story-telling is basically an oral tradition, which creates problems for an historical account. The exact nature of the stories that circulated in the 10 th century is, of course, unknown to us, but numerous cycles of stories have been recorded and taken down in writing during later centuries, probably beginning in the 12 th and 13 th centuries. These written versions may be of various kinds, some copied from written sources, some taken down by ‘speed-writers’ from oral performances. The role of Arabic contacts is rather uncertain. Arabic orators of a type similar to the Iranian naqqâls are known already from the 8 th century, and some elements in the presentation of stories (e. g. starting a story with ammâ and use of rhyming epithets) point towards early mutual influences. The wide-spread Alexander romance is also found in both Arabic and Persian versions, although the Persian versions always stress the relation with (legendary) Achaemenid history and the narrative cycles on Dârâb (i. e. Darius) and his alleged son Firuz-shâh. Even if the stories are xxxi

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told mainly as entertainment, they may also have elements of religious propaganda, since Safavid times predominantly Shi’ite. The style of these stories shifts between quite literary ways of expression to colloquial uses of language. Qur’anic verses, sayings of the Prophet, embellishing verses, and rhyming prose appear regularly. Drawing on the rich store of animal fables and adding all kinds of supernatural and fantastic beings, stories may seem to be created as fiction, but were probably generally not seen as such. The various forms of popular stories, anecdotes and exempla described by Mehran Afshari in Chapter 9 are mainly oral, but when looked upon in an historical perspective they have to be studied in the form of written records. They are known with many names, such as mow’eze (sermon), nokte (epigram), eshâre (allusion), latife (amusing anecdote), nazire (example), and tamthil (proverb), but also with the general terms hekâyat and qesse (also treated in Chapter 8). They can aim at both entertainment and instruction, in the latter case often used by preachers in mosques and Sufis in their convents (khânaqâhs), sharing characteristics with the longer stories mentioned earlier. This kind of popular story-telling is known from Arabic sources already from the first centuries of Islam but is recorded in Persian from the 13 th century onwards. Again, this testifies to a close relationship between Arabic and Persian culture, especially in the religious sphere. A special form of popular anecdotes, found both in Arabic and Persian, consists of licentious stories and facetiae meant to be enjoyed as frivolous entertainment, at times also with satirical aims. There are many kinds of popular stories, all being told in a simple colloquial language well adapted to the audience to which they are told, but when taken down in writing more ornate language sneaks in. From the 19 th century, winds of change start to blow in the Persian literary world. Chapter 10, written by Iraj Parsinejad, paints the picture of pre-modern and modern Persian prose writing and how thousand-years-old genres and writing conventions undergo rapid change. With this, the use of ornate language and rhetorics loses its central role in the creation of literary texts, and new types of prose texts are included in what starts to be regarded as “literature” (adabiyyât) in a modern sense. The close relation with Arabic xxxii

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literature is eroded, and new genres are introduced under the influence of western models. The character of the written language itself comes under debate, and there is a strong urge to purify and purge the Persian language from Arabic. At the same time, there is a tendency to bring the written language closer to spoken varieties—from which Arabic elements are not so easily purged. In summary, this volume describes the “literary aspects” of a wide array of Persian prose genres as expressed in the use of elaborated language and rhetoric devices together with a strong element of narrativity with didactic and/or entertaining intentions. It also demonstrates clearly, with the aid of direct references to a variety of texts, the interdependence between Persian and Arabic forms of literature and their combined role in the great Islamic cultural synthesis. Much of this literature is steeped in religion, that is, various forms of Islamic discourse and specifically in Islamic mysticism (Sufism). The Persian language itself is shown to be a mighty edifice, a cultural heritage that still weighs heavily on the shoulders of modern generations.

Bibliography Bloom, Jonathan. Paper before Print: The History and Impact of Paper in the Islamic World. New Haven, 2001. Mâyel-Haravi, Najib. Ketâb-ârâyi dar tamaddon-e Eslâmi: majmuʿe-ye rasâ’el dar zamine-ye khōshnevisi, morakkab-sâzi, kâghaz-geri, tadhhib va tajlid; be-enżemâm-e farhang-e vâzhegân-e neẓâm-e ketâbârâyi. Mashhad, 1993. Meisami, Julie Scott. “History as Literature.” IrSt 33/1–2 (2000), pp. 15–30. —. “History as Literature.” In Charles Melville, ed., Persian Historio­ graphy (= HPL X), London and New York, 2012, pp. 1–55. Paul, Jürgen. “Enshā’.” In EIr, VIII, pp. 455–57. Pedersen, Johannes. Den arabiske Bog. Copenhagen, 1946. Tr. G ­ eoffrey French, with intro. by Robert Hillenbrand, as The Arabic Book. Prince­ton, 1984. Utas, Bo. “‘Genres’ in Persian Literature, 900–1900.” In Gunilla Lindberg-­ Wada, ed., Literary History: Towards a Global Perspective, Vol. II: Literary Genres: An Intercultural Approach, Berlin, 2006, pp. 199–206.

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CHAPTER 1 A MEDIEVAL NEXUS: LOCATING ENSHÂ’ AND ITS ONTOLOGY IN THE PERSIANATE INTELLECTUAL TRADITION, 1000–1500 Colin Mitchell Epistolography occupied a profound epistemological space during a time of significant change in the medieval Persianate world. The New Persian renaissance, beginning in the east under the Samanids and the Ghaznavids, was a slow, amalgamative process whereby regimented traditions in Arabic prose and poetry were absorbed and re-articulated by Iranian polylingual and polymathic literati. While Persian poetry enjoyed fluorescence thanks to Ferdowsi, Nezâmi, and Anvari, the prose tradition was equally enlivened thanks in part to the popularity of genres like mirrors-for-princes, fables, and court chronicles. This literary boom was in no small way a reflection of the dominant role played by the families of the Persian “bureaucrat-scholars” who, since the days of the Barmakids in Abbasid Baghdad, had maneuvered themselves as the principal producers and patrons of poetry and prose in the Persianate lands from the 11 th to 17 th centuries.1 It is the fluid multi-valency of the New Persian renaissance, with its genesis crystallizing squarely in the Arabic literary world but with articulation by Persian poets, adibs, and viziers working in Turkic-controlled courtly spaces, that makes the science of epistolography (elm‑e enshâ’) difficult to 1

For a good overview, see Maaike van Berkel, “The People of the Pen: Self-Perceptions of Status and Role in the Administration of Empires and Polities,” in M. Van Berkel and J. Duindam, eds., Prince, Pen, and Sword: Eurasian Perspectives (Leiden, 2018), pp. 384–451.

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define, let alone categorize and standardize with any sense of confidence. Not only did 11 th–12 th century contemporaries disagree as to the essence and manifestation of prose enshâ’, they varied widely on what could be reasonably included in a collection of model letters, decrees, administrative documents and so on. Modern studies of medieval Persian enshâ’ material has—to date—largely approached this variability with relatively blunt tools; if not roundly dismissed by historians for its lack of concrete historical data and surplus prolixity, enshâ’ prose is largely overlooked in literary studies on account of its relative lack of structure when compared to the intense formatting and mnemonic appeal of poetic genres like qasides, mathnavis, robâ’is, etc. If the heterogeneity of enshâ’ was in of itself noted by medieval Persianate contemporaries, it has been overtly reduced and simplified in modern scholarship; the time for a re-opening and meaningful discussion of how enshâ’ was understood is long overdue. To simply label enshâ’ as “letter-writing” is a gross oversimplification. Moreover, to approach a collection of enshâ’ as simply a repository of historical documents ignores the complicated discourses and debates, which were shaping the premodern world of literati and administrators. How, then, can we bring some semblance of coherence to this complex problem? Some scholars have sought answers by exploring a single textual source, and on the basis of that particular enshâ’ work, extrapolate across time and space to offer a normative rationale for premodern epistolography. To some extent, this is how Riazul Islam approached the issue, relying on Mahmud Gâvân’s 15 th-century Manâzer al-enshâ’ (Perspectives of Enshâ’);2 Heribert Horst, on the other hand, culled a number of enshâ’ works and used titular and administrative references to assemble a picture of bureaucracy in the 11 th–12 th-­century Persianate world,3 as did Heribert Busse for the 16 th century.4 Other 2 3 4

Riazul Islam, A Calendar of Documents on Indo-Persian Relations (1500– 1750), Vol. I, (Karachi, 1971). Heribert Horst, Die Staatsverwaltung der Grosselǧūqen und Ḫōrazmšāhs (1038–1231) (Wiesbaden, 1964). Heribert Busse, Untersuchungen zum islamischen Kanzleiwesen an Hand turkmenischer und safawidischer Urkunden (Cairo, 1959).

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collections are modern, and while helpful, the specific documents profiled in these edited works are combed from older enshâ’ manuals with little in the way of context.5 To be sure, scholars are interested in editing such well-noted enshâ’ works by specific authors on their own terms, and we are grateful for their efforts but nonetheless we cannot help but notice an absence of any larger context for these sources and the genre from which they emerge.6 While more holistic efforts have been offered by H. R. Roemer and Jürgen Paul, these are helpful, but all-too-brief, encyclopedic treatments trying to shape and define a literary Leviathan which intersects a multitude of textual traditions: poetry, rhetoric, prosody, philosophy, scriptural exegesis, history, and so on.7 Interest in Arabic enshâ’ in a larger historical sense was seen recently with Adrian Gully’s The Culture of Letter-Writing in Premodern Islamic Society,8 but 5

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Jahângir Qâ’em-Maqâmi. ed., Yaksad va panjâh sanad‑e târikhi (Tehran, 1969); Abd-al-Hoseyn Navâ’i, ed., Asnâd va mokâtabât‑e siyâsi-ye Irân (Tehran, 1981); Sayyed Ali-Mo’ayyed Thâbeti, ed., Asnâd va nâmehâ-ye târikhi (Tehran, 1967): Dhabih Thâbetiyân, Asnâd va nâme-hâ-ye târikhi-ye dowre-ye Safaviyye (Tehran, 1965); Abd-al-Hoseyn Navâ’i, ed., Asnâd va mokâtabât‑e târikhi-ye Irân az Timur tâ Shâh Esmâ’il (Tehran, 1962); Mehmet Sefik Keçik, Briefe und Ur­kunden aus der Kanzlei Uzun Hasans: Ein Beitrag zur Geschichte Ost-Anatoliens im 15. Jahrhundert (Berlin, 1976). Abd-al-Hoseyn Navâ’i has also edited several volumes of correspondence from the reigns of specific Safavid rulers in the 16 th and 17 th centuries. In recent years, a number of enshâ’ works have been edited and published, such as Rasul Ja’fariyân’s edition of Monsha’ât‑e Soleymâni (Tehran, 2009); Nosrat-Allâh Foruhar’s edition of Qâzi Hoseyn b. Mo’in-al-Din Meybodi’s Monsha’ât‑e Meybodi (Tehran, 1998); Ma’sumeh Ma’dankan’s edition of Mahmud Gâvân (Sadr‑e Jahân)’s Manâzer al-enshâ’ (Tehran, 2002); Sayyid Ali Rezavi-Bahâbâdi’s edition of Mohammad b. Abd-al-Khâleq Meyhani’s Dastur‑e dabiri (Yazd, 1996); and Mansur Sefatgol and Nobuaki Kondo’s edition of an anonymous collection of early modern correspondence (the manuscript is in St. Petersburg) with the title of Pezhuheshi dar bâre-ye maktubât‑e târikhi-ye fârsi-ye Irân va Mâ-varâ’-al-nahr: Safaviyân, Uzbakân va emârât‑e Bokharâ / Persian Historical Epistles from Iran and Mawara an-nahr: The Safavids, the Uzbeks, and the Mangits (Tokyo, 2006). Hans Robert Roemer, “Inshāʾ,” in EI2 , III pp. 1241–44; Jürgen Paul, “Enšā’” in EIr, VIII, pp. 455–57. Adrian Gully, The Culture of Letter-Writing in Pre-Modern Islamic Society (Edinburgh, 2008).

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to date we have yet to produce any sustained treatments of Persian enshâ’ as a genre with an eye towards its general ontology. The ultimate purpose of this chapter is to present a survey of the epistolographic genre in the medieval Persianate world (1000– 1500). Returning to the earlier question of how this can be accomplished, a solution—at least a partial one—presents itself in the concept of the dibâche, or preface. As many can attest, the foreword, or prolegomenon, to a prose work has been a longstanding feature of systematic writing since Antiquity. Texts of various subjects— philosophy, history, medicine, theology, geography, etc.—were almost invariably prefaced by a short discussion from the author. These prologues were designed, more often than not, as a space and occasion for the author to offer rationalizations and reasons in defense of the larger work; motives and inspirations, as well as praise for the pertinent patrons, were likewise included with regularity. Depending on the nature of the work and the temperament of the author, prefaces could often profile insightful ruminations and reflections on not only the ontology of the work but on the genre itself. Such textual practice in both Arabic and Persian was indubitably influenced by the Greek and Syriac traditions.9 Gerard Genette described such textual space as an example of a “paratext,” which effectively accompanied the main text and facilitated mediation between the author and the reader.10 Julia Rubanovich noted how such prefatory writing was crucial to the reader’s initial conception of the author and reception of the text; as such, a careful reading of a text’s prolegomenon is absolutely critical if we are to understand authorial intentions and self-view.11 Preface study (dibâche-shenâsi) has yet to emerge in any serious way as a discipline of academic study, but singular studies in recent years have elicited energy and excitement; notably, David Roxburgh broadened the theoretical implications of aesthetics in the late medieval 9 The best treatment of this, by far, is Eva Riad, Studies in the Syriac Preface (Uppsala, 1988). 10 Gerard Genette, Paratexts: Thresholds of Interpretation, tr. J. E. Lewin (Cambridge, 1997). 11 Julia Rubanovich, “Metaphors of Authorship in Medieval Persian Prose: A Preliminary Study,” Middle Eastern Literatures 12/2 (2009), p. 128.

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world in 2000 with his Prefacing the Image: The Writing of Art History in Sixteenth-Century Iran. In the early 1990 s, a collection of dibâches from a number of different medieval works and genres was edited and published by Sayyed Ziyâ-al-Din Sajjâdi, but admittedly there is little there in the form of analysis.12 Likewise, Wheeler Thackston edited and published a number of prefaces to illustrated manuscript albums from the medieval period.13 To date, no such approach has been applied to the diverse and overwhelming world of enshâ’. Moreover, given the fact that enshâ’ manuals often consisted of copied, exemplary missives, it is only within the dibâche itself that we can locate any sustained discussion of the theory and practice of the epistolographic arts. I am not especially concerned with the documents comprising the bulk of an enshâ’ manual or collection, but with how stylists (monshis) and scribes (kâtebs) chose to present this intricate discursive form, and in some cases defend it, to his supporters and detractors. When we consider how much the literary and administrative landscape was pushed and shaped between the 11 th and 15 th centuries, an in-depth, analytical survey of this unique epistemological space and its textual practice in the central Persianate lands is appealing. When we cross-index this with ongoing debates and crises in the literary-cum-philosophical premodern world regarding: a) the relationship between prose and poetry, b) natural writing (matbu’) and artifice (masnu’), c) the science of rhetoric (elm‑e balâghat) with respect to the literary perfection of the revealed Qur’an, d) the extent to which writing (ketâbat) in itself necessitates an orderly, hierarchical society with scribes and rhetoricians in the forefront, and e) the meta-debate regarding language and metaphysics and the philosophical entanglements associated with reason and scripture in the post-Avicennan landscape, we cannot but help to look to the dibâches of enshâ’ texts with wide and hopeful eyes. 12 Sayyed Ziyâ-al-Din Sajjâdi, Dibâche-negâri dar dah qarn: az qarn‑e cha­ hârom tâ qarn‑e chahârdahom (Tehran, 1993). 13 Wheeler Thackston, Album Prefaces and Other Documents on the History of Calligraphers and Painters (Leiden, 2001).

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1. Locating Enshâ’ in the Formative Islamic Period (8 th–11 th Centuries) What has been preserved of epistolographic writing from the premodern Islamic world was first and foremost a discursive practice enjoyed by political and administrative elites. On occasion, compilations of letters (majmu’e-ye monsha’ât) will contain correspondence between friends and family members (ekhvâniyyât), but generally only later specimens survive and the overwhelming bulk of this enshâ’ writing is dedicated to official writings and documents. In this sense, most enshâ’ material speaks to the performative and mechanistic aspects of power: letters between state rulers, letters of appointment, letters of investiture, peace treaties, tax-remittances, petitions, memos of censure and probation, and so on. There is evidence to suggest that epistolographic practices were quickly developed by Mohammad and his community; the normative tradition has no shortage of narratives and episodes regarding letters, registries, diplomatic agreements, etc. which were put into effect during this “golden” era. To what extent these epistolary developments came as a result of the allegedly rich, fully-formed written Arabic language is up for debate, but it seems reasonable to assume that scribal culture was alive and well in these early days, and such scribes—especially those who had served the Sasanians in the Sawâd of Iraq—would have been in high demand as the Arab armies negotiated surrender after surrender. Of course, the later proliferation of written poetic/rhetorical devices—parallelism, vivid imagery, direct address, rhyme, and assonance—were first and foremost oratorical, and much of what would come to shape Arabic literature had its basis in the regimented aspects of the spoken language.14 Indeed, Suzanne Stetkevych has argued in her inspiring article on the Arabo-Islamic transition from orality to literacy that “rhyme, meter, poetic diction, rhetorical figures, and so on are not, in an oral 14 Tahera Qutbuddin, “Khuṭba: The Evolution of Early Arabic Oration,” in B. Gruendler. ed., Classical Arabic Humanities in Their Own Terms: Festschrift for Wolfhart Heinrichs (Leiden, 2008), p. 177.

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context, aesthetic choices, but rather requirements for successful performance, transmission, and preservation.”15 The first formative “scribal text” was produced ca. 132/750 by Abd-al-Hamid Kâteb: the Resâle elâ’l-kottâb (Treatise to the Scribes); interestingly, Abd-al-Hamid (along with Ebn-al-Moqaffa’) had been a disciple of Abu’l-Alâ’ Sâlem, secretary to the Umayyad caliph Heshâm (r. 105–25/724–43), and—according to Ebn-al-Nadim—a translator of Aristotle’s letters to Alexander the Great.16 As Gully points out, there is no reference to the term enshâ’ at these early dates, but Abd-al-Hamid’s Resâle elâ’l-kottâb is generally accepted as a marker for the beginning of an Arabic prose tradition which intersected interest in epistolography and secretarial culture.17 Moreover, it is in this late Umayyad period that the new genre of the resâle (“letter,” “treatise”) emerged which seemed to combine the Greek and Persian heritage of administrative writings with the form, themes, and style of Arabic oratory.18 Ebn-al-Moqaffa’ (d. 139/757) of course wields “unprecedented renown as [a] master of Arabic prose,” and his own contribution to the secretarial arts is generally referred to as the al-Adab alkabir.19 These shifts in priorities coincided with one of the more profound development in late Antiquity, the introduction of paper and paper-making to the Islamic world: From this point forward, the Muslim omma began its journey as a “calligraphic state,” or rather a society which increasingly sought to define itself in terms 15 Suzanne P. Stetkevych, “From Jāhiliyyah to Badîʿ iyyah: Orality, Literacy, and the Transformation of Rhetoric in Arabic Poetry,” Oral Tradition, 25/2 (2010), p. 213. 16 J. D. Latham, “The Beginnings of Arabic Prose Literature: The Epistolary Genre,” in A. F.L Beeston, T. M. Johnstone, R. B. Serjeant, and G. R. Smith, eds., Arabic Literature to the End of the Umayyad Period (Cambridge, 1983), pp. 155–65. 17 Latham, “The Beginnings of Arabic Prose Literature,” p. 165; Gully, The Culture of Letter-Writing, pp. 11–12. 18 Qutbuddin, “Khuṭba,” p. 177. 19 Latham points out that the technical title of this work is Ketâb adab alkabir. J. D. Latham, “Ibn al-Muqaffaʿ and Early ʿAbbasid Prose,” in J. Ashtiany, T. M. Johnstone, J. D. Latham, R. B. Serjeant, and G. R. Smith, eds., ʿAbbasid Belles-Lettres (Cambridge, 1990), p. 57.

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of written text.20 There is no mistaking that the Arab privileging of poetry, oratory (khatâbe), and the inherent promotion of lyrical and rhyming values would come to manifest itself meaningfully in the form of saj’ (rhymed prose).21 Scribal manuals and literary epistolographic texts certainly operated in the same orbit, but significant overlapping did not really take place until later in the Abbasid period. At some point in the early 10 th century, prose writing in the epistolographic form went beyond administrative necessity and would become a noted literary objective for courtiers and scribes. This period is also crucial for the development of Arabic poetry and prose. With the advent of “modern” poets and literati of the Abbasid court—e. g., Abu-Novâs (d. 198/814), Bashshâr b. Bord (d. 167/784)—debate erupted with traditionalists who advocated the poetry of the “ancient” Arabs. This debate was best reified in the work of Abd-Allâh Ebn-al-Mo’tazz (d. 296/908), notably the Ketâb al-badi’. The “new style” promoted by Ebn-al-Mo’tazz was committed to carving out an unprecedented space in the poetic tradition; he identified and highlighted a number of literary devices (este’âre, metaphor; tajnis, paronomasia; tebâq, antithesis; radd a’ jâz al-kalâm alâ’l-sodur, internal repetition; al-madhhab al-kalâmi, dialecticism), which he suggested had been in use by the “ancient” poets but it was only with the Abbasid era that they were developed into an acceptable literary doctrine of sorts.22 It is with the poet/scribe Qodâma b. Ja’far (his disputed death-dates range from 319/932 to 336/948), however, that we find a remarkable confluence between the ongoing debates in Arabic poetry and new literary proclivities within the epistolographic forum. It is in his Ketâb alkharâj va senâ’at al-ketâbe (Book of Land Taxes and the Crafts of Writing) that we find the first consistent use of the term enshâ’ and 20 Jonathan Bloom, Paper before Print: The History and Impact of Paper in the Islamic World (New Haven, 2001), p. 12. The term “calligraphic state” is borrowed from Brinkley Messick’s The Calligraphic State: Textual Domination and History in a Muslim Society (Berkeley, 1993). 21 Latham, “The Beginnings of Arabic Prose Literature,” p. 154. 22 K. Abu Deeb, “Literary Criticism,” in J. Ashtiany, T. M. Johnstone, J. D. Latham, R. B. Serjeant, and G. R. Smith, eds., ʿAbbasid Belles Lettres (Cambridge, 1990), p. 347.

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the crystallization of an idea that epistolography was morphing in conjunction with poetry23; the only surviving portions of this work (contained in a unique manuscript in the Köprülü Library), the 5 th to the 8 th manzele, include linguistic usage, literary traditions, and the model titulatures (alqâb) needed for writing official missives.24 Moreover, Qodâma b. Ja’far also produced analytical treatments of the ancient-modern debate as well as treatments of literary devices and phrases with Naqd al-she’r (Poetic Criticism) and Ketâb al-alfâz (Book of Vocables).25 Arabic prose would also be indelibly changed by the philosophical climate of the 9 th–10 th centuries. In a response to the logicians and philosophers of the Mu’tazilite movement, supporters of the inimitability of the Qur’an fell to the task of standardizing and classifying Arabic. What emerged, as the “science of rhetoric” (elm al-balâghe) and the various classes of language that came with it, were forged first and foremost in the kiln of Qur’anic studies. Intriguingly, however, it was also in this period that translators were actively transmitting Aristotelian texts like the Rhetoric; moreover, Aristotle’s Rhetoric and Poetics were appended by translators in the Abbasid era as natural additions to the Organon along with Categories, De Interpretatione, Prior and Posterior Analytics, Topics, and Sophistical Refutations. As Deborah Black helpfully argues, Aristotelian commentators like al-Fârâbi, Ebn-Sinâ, and Ebn-Roshd saw Rhetoric and Poetics essentially through the lens of logical inquiry. In this sense, rhetoric26 and poetry, while admittedly 23 Gully, The Culture of Letter-Writing, pp. 11–12. 24 S. A. Bonebakker, “Ḳudāma b. Djaʿfar al-Kātib al-Baghdādī, Abu’l-Faradj,” in EI2 , V, pp. 318–22. 25 Wolfhart P. Heinrichs, “Rhetoric and Poetics,” in EAL, p. 653. 26 In Aristotelian terms, some philosophers like al-Fârâbi made the distinction that oratory (khatâbe) was a part of rhetoric (balâghe): As Aouad quoted: “La rhetorique (rethorica) est une certaine [faculté] oratoire (oratoria), le rhéteur (rethor) un certain orateur (orator)…langage oratoire n’est pas un discours, ni tout orateur un rhéteur.” See Maroun Aouad, “Balāgha: Rhetorique aristotelicienne (rethorica) et faculté oratoire (oratoria/balāgha) selon les Didascalia in ‘Rethoricam (sic!)’ Aristotelis ex glosa Alpharabii,” in B. Gruendler, ed., Classical Arabic Humanities in Their Own Terms: Festschrift for Wolfhart Heinrichs (Leiden, 2008), p. 41.

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different with respect to tools of persuasion, were nonetheless dedicated to the “cornerstones of medieval Arabic epistemology”— conception (tasavvor) and assent (tasdiq)—and were construed as such by contemporaries as part of the “logical arts.”27 As Wolfhart Heinrichs points out, there was a discrete impact of Greek science and philosophy on Arabic literature, and the new interest in rhetoric in terms of persuasion (eqnâ’) and poetry in terms of the evocation of imagination (takh­yil) was at a fundamental level in contraposition to the idea of balâghat as being synonymous with the perfect, inimitable eloquence of the Qur’an.28 As the secretarial class continued to emerge as a relatively powerful constituency during the Abbasid/Buyid periods, there was an increase in the popularity and production of prose works and epistolography. Indeed, a veritable profusion of secretarial and epistolographic works appeared at this time: Abu’l-Fazl Ebn-alAmid’s (d. 360/970) correspondence, Ahmad b. Sahl Balkhi’s (Ebnal-Balkhi; d. 322/934) Fazl senâ’at al-ketâba (Merit of the Crafts of Writing), Ahmad b. Mohammad b. Yusof Esfahâni’s Tabaqât al-khotabâ’ (Ranks of Orators) and Ketâb adab al-kottâb (Book of the Etiquette of Writers), Abu-Bakr Mohammad Suli’s (d. 335/947) Adab al-kottâb (Etiquette of Writers), and Ahmad b. Mohammad al-Nahhâs Mesri’s (d. 337/949) Adab al-kottâb (Etiquette of Writers), to name a few.29 Undoubtedly, there was a tension in literate society in Baghdad and elsewhere regarding the relative worth of secretaries and their perceived promotion of prose writing at the expense of poetry. Scribes with literary pretensions promoted rhymed prose (saj’) and various other devices such as tarsi’ (parallelism), and this general trend of versification in prose elicited strong reactions from traditional poets; moreover, the practice of saj’ was tainted in the eyes of Qur’anic philologists and rhetoricians who 27 Deborah Black, Logic and Aristotle’s ‘Rhetoric’ and ‘Poetics’ in Medieval Arabic Philosophy (Leiden, 1990), p. 14 a. 28 Heinrichs, “Rhetoric and Poetics,” pp. 653–54. 29 Muhsin al-Musawi, “Pre-Modern Belletristic Prose,” in R. Allen and D. S. Richards, eds., Arabic Literature in the Post-Classical Period (Cambridge, 2006), p. 104.

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insisted that this practice was inherited from pre-Islamic soothsayers (kâhens).30 Nonetheless, prominent Buyid-era literati argued passionately for the acceptance of prose as a medium of literary expression. Abu-Eshâq Sâbi’ (d. 384/984), chief of the Buyid chancellery, described how meaning (ma’nâ) was obscured in poetry, but that epistolary prose was relatively clear as a result of being free of the constraints of poetic meter.31 More mediating positions were shown by the “Jâhez of Nishapur,” the Iranian Abu-Mansur Abd-al-Malek b. Mohammad Tha’âlebi (d. 429/1038), in his Nathr al-nazm va hall al-eqd (Prosification of Poetry and the Untying of the Knot); 32 likewise, other works of Tha’âlebi such as al-Montahhal and Khâss al-khâss were explicit attempts to highlight the importance of poetry in epistolography.33 An even more inclusive approach was adopted by his Iranian-born contemporary AbuHelâl Askari (d. 400/1009), whose Ketâb al-senâ’ateyn: al-ketâbe va’l-she’r (Book of Two Crafts: Prose and Poetry) placed prose on par with poetry.34 Moreover, the 8 th and 9 th chapters addressed in succession the practice of saj’ and ezdevâj (assonance doubling) in prose and the larger practice of “style” (badi’).35 Recently, Vahid Behmardi has argued that the late 10 th and early 11 th centuries were especially critical in terms of Persian litterateurs and secretaries working in Arabic prose. Examining the writings of the celebrated Badi’-al-Zamân Hamadâni (d. 397/1007), Behmardi demarcates the author’s categories of literature: a) memorization and narrative, b) versification and prosody, c) prose writing 30 Devin Stewart, “Sajʿ in the Qur’ān: Prosody and Structure,” Journal of Arabic Literature 21/2 (1990), p. 103. 31 Gully, The Culture of Letter-Writing, p. 82. 32 Al-Musawi, “Pre-Modern Belletristic Prose,” p. 105; Bilal Orfali, “The Works of Abū Manṣūr al-Thaʿālibī (350–429/961–1039),” Journal of Arabic Literature 40 (2009), p. 274. 33 Gully, The Culture of Letter-Writing, p. 32. 34 Al-Musawi, “Pre-Modern Belletristic Prose,” p. 104; Beatrice Gruendler, “al-ʿAskarī, Abū Hilâl,” in EI3, II, pp. 163–64. 35 Abu-Hilâl Hasan b. Abd-Allâh b. Sahl Askari, Ketâb al-senâ’ateyn al-ketâbat wa’l-she’r, eds., A. M. al-Bijâwi and M. A. Ebrâhim (Cairo, 1952), pp. 260–65, 266–463.

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and epistolography, and d) improvisation.36 By the early 11 th century, prose texts like Hamadâni’s Maqâmât had become suffused with various rhyming devices, and as such the rhetorical principles of badi’ which had been set into motion by the “modern poets” (mohdathun), and standardized and popularized thanks to Ebnal-Mo’tazz, were now finding representation in prose, and specifically in epistolographic prose. Arabic epistolography was rich in technical prose and poetry during the Buyid period, and the letters of prominent Iranian chancery officials/literati like Sâheb b. Abbâd (d. 385/995), Abu-Eshâq Sâbi’ (d. 384/994), Abd-al-Aziz b. Yusof Shirâzi, and Abu’l-Fazl Ebn-al-Amid have attracted healthy interest in scholarship.37 As Heinrichs has pointed out, the intense debates about the growing interdependence of poetry and prose during the 10 th–11 th centuries would be later absorbed into the larger “science of rhetoric” (elm al-balâghe) which would emerge by the end of the 14 th century thanks to Abd-al-Qâher Jorjâni’s (d. 471/1078) Asrâr al-balâghe (Secrets of Eloquence), Abu-Ya’qub Yusof Sakkâki’s (d. 626/1229) Meftâh al-olum (Key to the Sciences), Jalâl-al-Din Qazvini’s (d. 739/1338) Talkhis al-Meftâh (Refinement to the Key [to the Sciences]), and Sa’d-al-Din Mas’ud b. Omar b. Abd-Allâh Taftâzâni’s (d. 793/1390) Sharh‑e Meftâh al-olum (Commentary on Key to the Sciences).38 Arabic prose, and its epistemological proximity with poetry, seems to have flourished among Iranian litterateurs and epistolographers during the Buyid period. On this point, Behmardi has suggested that these scholar-bureaucrats were especially attracted to 36 Vahid Behmardi, “Rhetorical Values in Buyid Persia According to Badîʿ alZamân al-Hamadhânî,” in L. Behzadi and V. Behmardi, eds., The Weaving of Words: Approaches to Classical Arabic Prose (Beirut, 2009), p. 157. 37 Klaus Hachmeier, “Private Letters, Official Correspondence: Buyid Inshâ’ as a Historical Source,” Journal of Islamic Studies 13/2 (2002), pp. 125–54; Mark van Damme, “Les Sources écrites concernant l’oeuvre du secrétaire buyide Abû Ishâq As-Sâbi’” in M. Galley and D. R. Marshall, eds., Actes du premier congrès d’études des cultures méditerranéenes d’influence Arabo-Berbère (Algiers, 1973), pp. 175–81; and J. C. Bürgel, Die Hofkorrespondenz ‘Adud ad-Daulas und ihr Verhältnis zur anderen historischen Quellen der frühen Buyiden (Wiesbaden, 1965). 38 Heinrichs, “Rhetoric and Poetics,” p. 651.

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prose (nathr) and correspondence (tarassol) where they could fully explore the concept of san’at, or artifice, by indulging in “synonymous similes, duplication in speech and metaphors which lead, as a rule, to prolixity and exaggeration.”39 This notion of written artifice (masnu’) stood in direct contradiction to “natural” language (matbu’) that was promoted by those like Jorjâni who saw rhetoric strictly from a perspective of Qur’anic Arabic. Likewise, conservative scholars were uncomfortable with designations of prose and poetry in terms that were anything other than religious; Khwârazmi’s Mafâtih al-olum (Keys [to] the Sciences) neatly categorizes grammar, secretarial arts, poetry and prosody under the rubric of olum al-shari’e along with jurisprudence (feqh) and dialectic theology (kalâm).40 Nonetheless, artifice and innovation was appealing for authors like Hamadâni: “weaving words became such a delicate task for writers to the extent that writing prose or composing poetry became a ‘craft’ and thus it was called san’at, something that can be compared to the delicate weaving of a Persian silk carpet.”41 The interdependence of poetry and prose in this regard would also be later noted by the great stylist and secretary, Ziyâ’-al-Din Ebn-al-Athir (d. 636/1239) in his al-Mathal al-sâ’er fi adab al-kâteb va’l-shâ’er (The Popular Model for the Practice of the Secretary and the Poet).42 In terms of where epistolography stood for Persians writing in Arabic in the 10 th century, Behmardi is clear and convincing: “in respect to the Arabic literature of Iran, the composition of letters became its major art form.”43 Acknowledging these aforementioned developments, the emergence of New Persian, the rhetorical implications involved, and the ensuing “boom” of enshâ’ during the Saljuq, Mongol, and Timurid periods are especially fascinating. Persian rhetoric and prosody would continue the inclusive trends of the Buyid era, and Mohammad b. Omar Râduyâni and Rashid-al-Din Vatvât incorporated 39 Behmardi, “Rhetorical Values in Buyid Persia,” p. 154. 40 A. I. Sabra, “Al-Khwārazmī, Abū ʿAbd Allāh Muḥammad b. Aḥmad b. Yūsuf al-Kātib,” in EI2 , IV, p. 1068. 41 Quoted in Behmardi, “Rhetorical Values in Buyid Persia,” p. 154. 42 Al-Musawi, “Pre-Modern Belletristic Prose,” p. 104. 43 Behmardi, “Rhetorical Values in Buyid Persia,” p. 158.

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rhetorical figures like tajnis (paronomasia), tashbih (simile), este’âre (metaphor), erdâf (synonym), eltefât (transition), and eltezâm (amalgamation of new and old verses) into the Persian language with their respective works, the Tarjomân al-balâghe (Translator of Eloquence) (ca. 493/1100)44 and the Hadâ’eq al-sehr fi daqâ’eq al-she’r (Gardens of Magic in the Intricacies of Poetry) (544/1150).45 Indeed, Vatvât included a section on the technique of hall‑e manzum, whereby verse was “recomposed” into prose.46 Poetic standards and prosody were further concretized in the 13 th century by Shams-al-Din Mohammad b. Qeys Râzi (Shams‑e Qeys; d. ca. early to mid 7 th /13 th century) and his al-Mo’ jam fi ma’âyer ash’âr al-’ajam (Treatise on the Prosody and Poetic Art of the Persians).47 Prose work also flourished in these early days of New Persian expansion, and much of this was understood with specific reference to epistolography. The Ghurid-era author Nezâmi Aruzi Samarqandi (d. 556/1161?) emphasized the preeminent role of secretaries in one of the first systematic, non-chronicle prose works, the Chahâr maqâle (Four Treatises).48 The 11 th–14 th century period, overall, was a complicated one for the development of a Persian sense of rhetoric, especially in light of the degree to which poets, rhetoricians, and epistolographers were rooted in the Arabic literary dynamics of the late Abbasid and Buyid periods. However, one key manifestation 44 It should be noted that de Bruijn has made reference to the fact that the Tarjomân al-balâghe was based on an Arabic text, the Ketâb al-mahâsen fi’l-nazm wa’l-nathr of Abu’l-Hasan Nasr Marginâni; see J. T. P. de Bruijn, “Badiʿ (1),” in EIr, IV, pp. 372–76. See also Ahmed Ateş’s preface to his edition of Tarjomân al-balâghe (as Kitāb Tarcumān al-Balāğa, Istanbul, 1949). 45 Colin Mitchell, The Practice of Politics in Safavid Iran: Power, Religion, and Rhetoric (London, 2009), p. 8. 46 Julie Scott Meisami, “Genres of Court Literature,” in J. T. P. De Bruijn, ed., General Introduction to Persian Literature ( = HPL I, London, 2008), p. 264. 47 For the best scholarship on Shams‑e Qeys, see Justine Landau, De rythme et de raison: Lecture croisée de deux traités de poétique persans du XIIIe siècle (Paris, 2013). 48 Samarqandi’s first section on secretaryship (dabiri): Nezâmi Aruzi Samarqandi, Chahâr maqâle, ed. M. Qazvini (Tehran, 1921), pp. 19–41; Wilhelm Geiger and Ernst Kuhn, eds., Grundriss der Iranischen Philologie, (2 vols., Strasbourg, 1896–1904), II, p. 333.

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in this period, as noted by de Bruijn and Benedikt Reinert as well as Hellmut Ritter, was a profusion of hyperbolic, often fantastical, imagery in the use of tropes by Persian litterateurs.49 Within this literary maelstrom of change and debate, the genre of Persian enshâ’ began to emerge but authors’ conceptions, definitions and practice predictably varied. What follows is a period-by-period treatment of how enshâ’ was described, systemized, and rationalized by the most famous and successful Persianate scribes and stylists (monshis) of the pre-modern period of 1000–1500.

2. Continuity and Challenge: The Saljuq and Khwarazmian Era (1100–1200)50 The apogee of the Great Saljuqs, and the resulting fragmentation into various sultanates from Anatolia to Afghanistan, was undoubtedly critical for the emergence of New Persian. The Saljuq state and the appendages which emerged from it were committed to cultivating the caesaropapist ideology associated with ancient Persianate culture; their sponsorship of statesmen, poets, historians, litterateurs, and adibs was in turn designed to dilute their steppe origins and buttress their legitimacy as divinely-sanctioned, sophisticated monarchs. This mandate to chronicle and lionize their Turkic patrons gave Iranian bureaucrat-scholars ample 49 Hellmut Ritter, Über die Bildersprache Nizamis (Berlin, 1927), Benedikt Reinert, “Probleme der vormonglischen arabisch-persischen Poesiegemeinschaft und ihr Reflex in der Poetik,” in G. E. von Grunebaum, ed., Arabic Poetry: Theory and Development (Wiesbaden, 1973), pp. 71–105, de Bruijn, “Badiʿ (1),” p. 376. 50 It should be noted that there are a few discrete enshâ’ works from this era which are not analyzed meaningfully here. This was either due to their lack of availability, or to the fact that they contained unsubstantial prefatory sections. The best known would be the anonymous Mokhtârât men al-rasâ’el, eds. Irâj Afshâr and Gholâm-Rezâ Tâher (Tehran, 1999). For lesser known, unpublished sources, see Mohammad-Taqi Dâneshpazhuh, “Dabiri va nevisandagi,” in Nâder Motallabi-Kâshâni and Sayyed Mohammad Hoseyn Mar’ashi, eds., Hadith-e eshq: Dâneshpazhuh dar qalamrow-e jostâr-hâ-ye noskhe-hâ-ye khatti (Tehran, 2002), pp. 163–64.

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opportunity to negotiate the nascent (re-)emergence of the New Persian language in both prose and poetry form. Indeed, it could be argued that the association of Persian culture with long-standing notions of absolutist monarchy, and the prestige of political exemplars in Iranian “mythistory” like Afrâsiyâb, Jamshid, Darius, Alexander the Great, and Khosrow, played no small role in the Saljuqs’ decision to promote the use of Persian in poetic circles and administrative enclaves. Paraphrasing Mohammad-Taqi Bahâr’s Sabk-shenâsi yâ tatavvor‑e nathr‑e Fârsi (pub. 1942), Jan Rypka periodized prose development in terms of ornamentation and generous use of metaphors and artifice.51 While Samanid-era prose is characterized as relatively unadorned (e. g. Bal’ami’s translation of Tabari), the “first” Saljuq period (450–550/1058–1155) was noted for its proximity to Arabic (e. g., Beyhaqi’s Târikh), and the prose of the “second” Saljuq (and Khwarazmian) period (550–600/1155–1203) in turn demonstrated consistent use of parallelism, rhyme, artifice, and rhetorical similes (e. g. the Marzbân-nâme) in Persian.52 The degree to which the Saljuq state may have exhibited an interest in this growing stylistic embellishment has also affected how modern scholars have interpreted the nature of rhetoric in Persian prose and poetry. Kenneth Allin Luther argued that the embellished style of Saljuq-sponsored chancellery officials was a result of a lack of control by the Saljuq rulers themselves; moreover, prose writers were allegedly driven to excessive prolixity on account of admonitions from a discrete number of key Persian enshâ’ manuals.53 Julie Meisami countered this characterization, arguing that many 12 th–13 th century authors were quite condemnatory of hyperbole and ornate prose, and that it would be more accurate to assign culpability for such trends to, not the early Saljuqs, but to the Khwarazmian enfant terrible, 51 Jan Rypka, “Geschichte der Neupersischen Literatur bis zum Beginn des 20. Jahrhunderts,” in Jan Rypka, ed., Iranische Literaturgeschichte (Leipzig, 1959), pp. 122–23. 52 Rypka, “Geschichte der Neupersischen Literatur,” p. 122. 53 K. Allin Luther, “Islamic Rhetoric and the Persian Historians, 1000–1300 A. D.,” in J. A. Bellamy, ed., Studies in Near Eastern Culture and History in Memory of Ernest T. Abdel-Massih (Ann Arbor, 1990), pp. 90–98.

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Rashid-al-Din Vatvât.54 Literary personalities of this period were certainly alive to the issue that this was a period of unprecedented change for the Perso-Islamic world, and there seems to be good evidence to suggest that poets and rhetoricians were quick to caution against unnecessary verbosity and overindulgence in the practice of saj’.55 Moreover, Luther’s suggestion that epistolographers were brassbound by the strictures of a few key enshâ’ didactic works does not reasonably account for the fact that new manuals were constantly being produced in the medieval period to augment, and in some cases replace, existing epistolographic standards and practices. Moreover, Luther’s point that the creative output of monshis across the central and eastern Islamic lands was somehow predetermined and prefigured by a discrete number of earlier chancellery manuals seems overly reductive.

Dastur‑e dabiri by Mohammad b. Abd-al-Khâleq Meyhani (d. ca. 576/118056) Mohammad b. Abd-al-Khâleq Meyhani’s Dastur‑e dabiri (Manual of Secretary Craft), compiled in 585/1190, stands undoubtedly as the best example of an enshâ’ manual designed to assist Persophone chancellery scribes in making the transition from epistolary Arabic to Persian enshâ’. It is clear that Meyhani introduces his work in a relatively straightforward manner, with a short preface and then a section styled as onvânât which makes up the first of two qesms in the Dastur‑e dabiri.57 According to Meyhani, “what 54 Julie Scott Meisami, “History as Literature,” Ir St 33/1–2 (2000), pp. 26–27. 55 Sakkâki and Taftâzâni were well known for their acerbic treatment of prose devices like saj’; Stewart, “Sajʿ in the Qur’ān,” pp. 104–7. 56 It should be noted that Hâshem Rajabzâde, the author of the EIr entry “Dastur‑e dabiri,” states that the work was compiled in 585/1190. The editor of Dastur‑e dabiri, Ali Bahâbâdi, suggests that his death must have occurred sometime between 576–85/1179–90; see Mohammad b. Abd-al-Khâleq Meyhani, Dastur‑e dabiri, ed. Ali Bahâbâdi (Yazd, 1996), p. davâzde. 57 Qesm‑e avval (“on preliminaries”; dar onvânât) runs from pages 2–38, while qesm‑e dovvom (“on letters”; dar nâme-hâ) constitutes the bulk of the work and runs from pages 41–203.

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they call onvânât [refers to] rules and etiquettes and introductions to this craft;” moreover, given that he focuses overtly in the section on how to shift from Arabic spelling to Persian equivalents and other relatively rudimentary points, the closest approximate sense to onvânât here would be something akin to “beginnings,” or perhaps “preliminaries.”58 The untitled preface describes how he was petitioned by a “dear friend” (dusti aziz) to produce this current epistolographic work. The brevity of this unnamed “dedication” is noticeable, and the fact that Meyhani’s patron does not appear to have been a major political or administrative figure is quite exceptional. Divided into two sections (qesms), the Dastur‑e dabiri focuses on a) the customs of this craft (senâ’at) and b) the premises (maqâsed) associated with the arts (fonun) of letters and responses. Following these qesms, several decrees (methâls) are appended to illustrate the “craft of accounting” (senâ’at‑e estifâ’), and the conclusion consists of more methâls regarding financial details of trusts (vethâ’eq‑e mohâsebât) and juridical decisions (sokuk‑e shar’i).59 What constitutes “preliminaries” is thoroughly quotidian and clinical: the need for proper tools such as pens, papers, inkpots, how one should keep such things in good and proper working order, and so on; a writer should not write hastily, and sufficient space should be allowed between lines of writing.60 Meyhani gives explicit advice on the mechanics of writing on blank paper towards avoiding common errors in orthography and to avoid conflation of written lines (satrs).61 He insists on proper inflection and use of diacritics, making the rather self-evident point that the meaning of words with missing dots can be misunderstood, among other points.62 Noqtes on scribal mechanics associated with a document’s 58 Meyhani, Dastur‑e dabiri, p. 1. 59 Meyhani, Dastur‑e dabiri, pp. 1–2. 60 Meyhani, Dastur‑e dabiri, p. 3. 61 Meyhani, Dastur‑e dabiri, p. 4. 62 Meyhani also points out how Persian scribes should be alert to the fact that certain Arabic letters (horuf‑e tâzi) do not exist in the spoken Persian language, and this can contribute to clerical errors in orthography; for instance, the letters sâd and tâ’ have often been interchanged. There are a number of other rudimentary grammatical points made here, such as the

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inscriptio, the alqâb, the affixing of dates, blessings, and the conclusion are also discussed in somewhat superficial terms.63 Interestingly, Meyhani sees the development of enshâ’ mechanics in strictly historical parameters, and narrates a number of epistolary practices and features which were connected with specific episodes in Islamic history. For instance, he spends considerable attention on the issue of konyes, namely how the use of konyes (e. g. designation of father [abu] or son [ebn]) came about after Arabs and Persians had brokered peace, how konyes were designated for people who did not know their family history, what to do with konyes for Turks, Hindus, Byzantine Greeks (Rumiyân), and Afghans (Ghuriyân), and the konyes of those who are recently manumitted from slavery.64 The second section (qesm) of Dastur‑e dabiri showcases a taxonomy of model letters (e. g. sadr-nâme [official decree], nâme-ye vasiyat [testament], ekhvâniyât [private letters])65 as well as model decrees to various officials (e. g. manshur‑e riyâsat [governor decree], vazâ’ef‑e râ’es [official appointments], manshur‑e qozzât [judicial decree], manshur‑e shehne [police order]).66 The mandate of Meyhani is ostensibly dedicated to introducing scribes to the epistolary arts and providing some insights—bolstered by model correspondence—for 12 th-century chancellery functionaries. A distinctly mechanistic quality shadows this work, and we cannot help but see the Dastur‑e dabiri as first and foremost a prose didactic work which eschews discussion of the ongoing debates about prosody, rhetorical devices, and the meaning of language that were known to be taking place in Arabic literature, and to a lesser extent at this time and juncture, in Persian prose and poetry. The simplicity of the preface, and the highlighting of a distinctly utilitarian ethos, underscores the degree to which early Persian use of hâ as plural markers for inanimate objects and gân for living creatures, and the elision of titles in onomastics whereby there are names like “Khwârazmshâh” which do not necessarily denote that someone is a “king of Khwârazm,” and so on. Meyhani, Dastur‑e dabiri, pp. 3–5. 63 Meyhani, Dastur‑e dabiri, pp. 11–23. 64 Meyhani, Dastur‑e dabiri, pp. 25–26. 65 Meyhani, Dastur‑e dabiri, pp. 41–97. 66 Meyhani, Dastur‑e dabiri, pp. 97–115.

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New Persian prose, and specifically enshâ’ writing, was still in a relative state of development at this stage of Saljuq history.

Ketâb‑e atabat al-katabe (compiled shortly after 528/1133) by Montajab-al-Din Badi’ Joveyni67 The next enshâ’ text is the Ketâb‑e atabat al-katabe (Book [Regarding] the Ranks of Writing) penned by a scion of one of the greatest medieval Iranian families of bureaucrats: Montajab-al-Din Badi’ Joveyni.68 In contrast to Meyhani, Joveyni was a respected administrator and adib in the eyes of near-contemporaries, and one who could boast a genealogical pedigree back to Fazl b. Rabi’, the chamberlain and advisor to Hârun-al-Rashid; Owfi also makes detailed note of his impact in his Lobâb al-albâb.69 Joveyni’s career was a peripatetic one, but he is best known for his role as chancery chief during the reign of Sanjar (511–51/1118–53). The story of how Joveyni conceives of enshâ’ is as much a narrative about himself and his relationship with epistolography as it is an analysis of enshâ’ as a genre. Joveyni describes his preoccupation with this craft from a young age; moreover, he learned from eminent scholars and established authorities that an ancestor of his had been a secretary to Shams-al-Ma’âli Qâbus b. Vashmgir (d. 403/1012).70 A collection of Arabic epistles (rasâ’el‑e tâzi) came into his possession at some point, and he dedicated himself to the study 67 Montajab-al-Din Badi’ Joveyni, Ketâb‑e atabat al-katabe, eds. Mohammad Qazvini and Abbâs Eqbâl (Tehran, 1950). 68 The only study that I know of that works intensively with the Atabat al-katabe is Ann K. S. Lambton’s “The Administration of Sanjar’s Empire as Illustrated in the ʿAtabat al-Kataba,” BSOAS 20/1 (1957), pp. 367–88. See also the introduction to the Russian translation by G. M. Kurpalidisa and and O. F. Akimushkin, Stupeni soveršenstvovania katibov (Moscow, 1985). See also Ann K. S. Lambton, Continuity and Change in Medieval Persia: Aspects of Administrative, Economic and Social History, 11 th –14 th Century (Albany, 1988), p. 305. 69 Sadid-al-Din Mohammad Owfi, Lobâb al-albâb, eds., E. G. Browne and M. Qazvini, (2 vols., Leiden, 1903–6), I, pp. 78–80. 70 Montajab-al-Din Joveyni, Ketâb‑e atabat al-katabe, p. 2.

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of enshâ’ while in the service of Sultan Sanjar in his empire’s capital Marv after 516/1120.71 He made his way subsequently to Ghazna and ultimately served in the divân‑e enshâ’ under a sepahsâlâr named Amir Ezz-al-Din Anar.72 He was eventually promoted to chief chancellery official in light of his ability to write letters in both Arabic and Persian, while Joveyni makes note of how Ezzal-Din Anar was inordinately interested in the epistolographic arts and its various intricacies.73 When his patron passed away, Joveyni made his way to Mazandaran and then to Tus/Mashhad where he appears to have entered the service of a local governor, Atâbeg Il-Lamash. He talks openly of his tormented relationship with the epistolographic sciences while in Mashhad; however, this epistemological languishing may simply be a metaphor of sorts for his unheralded status as a monshi at this stage of his career. He narrates how a letter arrived to his patron from “a great scholar of the age” that abounded in “eloquent metaphors” and “deep and beautiful words and meaning;” he was charged to study this missive and answer it with equal rhetorical skill and subtlety.74 Joveyni dedicated himself to the task, and his patron was suitably impressed; fellow scribes in the court praised the maktub, Il-Lamash ordered that it be copied by the mostowfi, and “the scribe of Beyhaq” (kâteb‑e Beyhaq) sent a copy to Beyhaqi’s children.75 From this point forward, Joveyni’s praises as a monshi were sung wide and far (according to him, at least), and he attributes this turn in fortune to his proximity to the shrine of Ali and the Imam’s intervention. His big break came sometime after 524/1130 when he was asked to write a fath-nâme (“letter of conquest”) to celebrate Sultan Sanjar’s capture of Samarqand and his installation of Khâqân Hasan Tekin; this fath-nâme was to be sent with the envoy Amir‑e 71 Montajab-al-Din Joveyni, Ketâb‑e atabat al-katabe, p. 2. 72 David Durand-Guédy, Iranian Elites and Turkish Rulers: A History of Iṣfahān in the Saljūq Period (London, 2010), p. 255 makes reference to an Ezz-al-Din in Esfahan during roughly the same period. 73 Montajab-al-Din Joveyni, Ketâb‑e atabat al-katabe, p. 3. 74 Montajab-al-Din Joveyni, Ketâb‑e atabat al-katabe, p. 3. 75 Montajab-al-Din Joveyni, Ketâb‑e atabat al-katabe, p. 4.

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Ajall Âlam Beg Ali to Baghdad to formally inform the Abbasid caliph, al-Mostarshed.76 This mandate was clearly overwhelming for Joveyni, but again, he was inspired by Ali to overcome his obstacles; according to him, the resulting missive was widely circulated among the literati of Baghdad and Iraq, and he was suddenly inundated with requests for further epistolary prose. And it was on the basis of this particular fath-nâme that the Saljuq vizier Nasiral-Din Tâher b. Fakhr-al-Molk b. Nezâm-al-Molk, under orders from Sultan Sanjar, commissioned the compilation of the current Atabat al-katabe.77 Joveyni’s high esteem for reason and the written word is certainly incorporated in his introductory invocations to God the Creator: “humans are distinguished by their power of reason and faculties.” Moreover, he connects reason and writing with auspiciousness, and implicitly the concept of state-governance (dowlat); Joveyni describes how the “signs and buildings” (âthâr va emârât) of the “state of writing” (dowlat‑e sokhan) are clearer than everything, and that the honor and rank [of writing] is so exalted that God referred to it as “praising the beloved” (tashbib).78 On account of this, and the fact that God’s prophets were graced by books, prose writing (sokhan‑e manthur) is approximate to God’s speech; in this sense, similes (tashâboh) and paronomasias (tajânos) are the greatest virtues and glories. Joveyni notes the arrangement of writing and its adornment towards a “necklace of rhymes” (eqd‑e qavâfi), or a specific arrangement of rhyming patterns often found in saj’, which is in turn easier for “the created tongue” (this is possibly a reference to the pre-Islamic popularity of soothsaying).79 Joveyni warns against this, and points out how poets and rhetoricians of the day have protected prose from the “imposition” or “annoyance” (taklif ) of saj’.80 In his estimation, when a scribe turns his attention towards gathering saj’ and practicing qavâfi, he departs from the purpose of writing by falling off the road of intention (jâde-ye 76 77 78 79 80

Montajab-al-Din Joveyni, Ketâb‑e atabat al-katabe, p. 4. Montajab-al-Din Joveyni, Ketâb‑e atabat al-katabe, p. 5. Montajab-al-Din Joveyni, Ketâb‑e atabat al-katabe, p. 1. Montajab-al-Din Joveyni, Ketâb‑e atabat al-katabe, p. 1. Montajab-al-Din Joveyni, Ketâb‑e atabat al-katabe, p. 1.

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gharaz) into the wilderness of ineffectual prolixity and hyperbole.81 Ultimately, rhetoric (balâghat) is in “the ease of form and the simplicity of meaning” (salâsat‑e lafz va e’ jâz‑e ma’ni). Meaning in writing (ma’âni-ye sokhan) has been expressed differently with respect to style and metaphors throughout human history, and it is with the robes and clothing (me’râz va lebâs) of writing that the sciences of medicine, trade, engineering and the arts have been dressed. Joveyni is undoubtedly alive to the heterogeneity and ecumenical nature of culture and language, describing how the “languages of Hebrew, Syriac, and Pahlavi” were amalgamated under the Arabic faith, and joined with all the languages and literary arrangements of the preceding tribes of ancient Iran.82 The ensuing “Arabic style” (balâghat‑e tâzi) dominated letters and correspondence to such an extent that the courts of the Samanids, Daylamis, and Saffarids started promoting the writing of Persian.83 In this way, the Persian language became a sellable commodity, and manshurs (decrees), ahds (treaties), and resâlât (letters) became common among administrators. Despite this, Joveyni is clear: “whoever studies the science of enshâ’ places his hand on the branch of the tree of the Arabic language.”84 In sum, Joveyni’s untitled dibâche informs our quest to understand the early development of Persian enshâ’. Principally, it challenges Luther’s suggestion that apathetic Turkic Saljuq sultans allowed freewheeling monshis and literati to indulge their prolix inclinations; to the contrary, Joveyni’s preface here suggests that a) Turkish elite personalities, like Ezz-al-Din Anar, worked closely with their Iranian chancellery officials, and b) excessive hyperbole, especially in the form of saj’, was frowned upon. This aside, the imperative by Buyid-era rhetoricians and litterateurs to advocate the use of prose writing was clearly carried over into the Saljuq period, and Joveyni’s highlighting of this genre is telling in this regard. Most profound, however, is how the Atabat al-katabe connected the emergence and popularity of New Persian with chancellery writing in the courts of the Samanids, Daylamites, 81 82 83 84

Montajab-al-Din Joveyni, Ketâb‑e atabat al-katabe, p. 1. Montajab-al-Din Joveyni, Ketâb‑e atabat al-katabe, p. 2. Montajab-al-Din Joveyni, Ketâb‑e atabat al-katabe, p. 2. Montajab-al-Din Joveyni, Ketâb‑e atabat al-katabe, p. 2.

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and Saffarids, and not exclusively with the genre of poetry85; moreover, it would appear that the Atabat al-katabe and the rise of Persian enshâ’ writing indicates an increasing general interest in Persian literature in the 12 th-century Persianate world under rulers like Sanjar.86 Also, Joveyni reflects a linguistic ecumenism which eschews typical orthodox views of the emergence of Arabic. For him, formative Islamic civilization was directly associated with the 7 th–8 th-century hybridization of the Arabic, Hebrew, Syriac, and Pahlavi languages as well as the preexisting literary traditions of Sasanian Iran.

Al-Tavassol elâ’l-tarassol by Bahâ’-al-Din Mohammad b. Mo’ayyed Baghdâdi (d. 588/1192)87 Arguably the most famous enshâ’ work of the Saljuq/Khwarazmian period is Mohammad b. Mo’ayyad Bahâ’-al-Din Baghdâdi’s al-Tavassol elâ’l-tarassol (Mediation into Letter-Writing).88 Unlike the previous authors, Baghdâdi’s fame emerged under the auspices of the Khwarazmshahs, specifically Alâ’-al-Din Takesh b. Arslân (r. 568–96/1172–1200); the bulk of the documents replicated are from the years 578–79/1182–84.89 Later enshâ’ compilers like Mo’in-al-Din Mohammad Zamchi Esfezâri and Mohammad b. Hendushâh Nakhjavâni make note of the impact of Baghdâdi, while contemporaries and near-contemporaries (Owfi, Sa’d-alDin Varâvini) wrote enthusiastically about his epistolary prose 85 Horst, Die Staatsverwaltung der Grosselǧūqen und Ḫōrazmšāhs, pp. 3–4, notes the predominance of Persophones in terms of chancellery development in eastern Iran. 86 F. C. De Blois, “Saldjūḳids: VII. Literature: 1. In Persia and ʿIrāḳ,” in EI2 , VIII, p. 971. 87 Bahâ’-al-Din Mohammad b. Mo’ayyed Baghdâdi, al-Tavassol elâ‘l-tarassol, ed. Ahmad Bahmânyâr (Tehran, 1936). 88 It should be noted that Baghdâdi is not actually from Baghdad. He was born in Baghdâdak near Khwârazm. 89 Vladimir Minorsky, “Some Early Documents in Persian (I),” JRAS, 3 (1942), p. 183.

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and poetry.90 The preface of the al-Tavassol elâ’l-tarassol is much more sweeping with respect to its opening blessings of God, the Prophet Mohammad, and Baghdâdi’s patron, Alâ’-al-Din Takesh.91 In parallel terms, Baghdâdi highlights his own creation of a new text with God’s creation of the world, followed by a predictable emphasis on the creation of humankind and its ability to use reason and logic. Likewise, his praise of Soltan Alâ’-al-Din Takesh is more consistent with the panegyric style of the poets, and repeatedly cites his inability to do proper justice to his qualities; as the Hadith narrates, Mohammad thought of God and said “I cannot praise You as You fully deserve.”92 Like Joveyni, Baghdâdi brings a narrative framework to his preface, introducing his loyal service to Alâ’-al-Din and his advancement ultimately to the chancellery (divân‑e enshâ’). His career as a monshi appeared to be flourishing—“my thoughts and inclinations in the forms of letters and correspondence had spread to all corners of the world”—and that his work and the work of his father was hailed by all as unsurpassed. We know, however, that Baghdâdi would become embroiled in court politics and was imprisoned on two different occasions for lengthy terms, but the dates for the first session are not clear.93 The Mongol-era historian Atâ-Malek Joveyni describes how Baghdâdi was imprisoned during the fraternal civil war between Takesh and Soltan Mohammad b. Arslân sometime around 582/1186.94 In his prefatory narrative to al-Tavassol elâ’l-tarassol, Baghdâdi describes how there was news—from Egypt, and possibly connected with the famous Iranian vizier and rhetorician serving Saladin, Emâd-al-Din Esfahâni (d. 1201)—that Baghdâdi had been conducting secret communications.95 Whether he was already in prison, or imprisoned 90 Owfi, Lobâb al-albâb, I, p. 139; Sa’d-al-Din Varâvini, Marzbân-nâme, ed. Mohammad Rowshan (2 vols., Tehran, 1976), I, p. 7. 91 Bahâ’-al-Din Baghdâdi, al-Tavassol elâ’l-tarassol, pp. 1–2. 92 Bahâ’-al-Din Baghdâdi, al-Tavassol elâ’l-tarassol, p. 2. 93 Z. Safa, “Bahā’-al-Din al-Baḡdādi,” in EIr, III, p. 430. 94 Atâ-Malek b. Mohammad Joveyni, Târikh‑e jahângoshâ, ed. M. A. Qazvini (3 vols., repr. Tehran, 2010), II, p. 514. 95 Bahâ’-al-Din Baghdâdi, al-Tavassol elâ’l-tarassol, p. 5.

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as a result of this, is not clear, but he certainly was in captivity when grandees and notables demanded “copies of decrees and personal correspondence which I had written.” He writes that he never wrote the original letter, and that it was not included in any of his personal papers; he alleges the use of “counterfeit coins of writing” (naqd‑e nabâhare-ye sokhan) to sway “the opinion of the assayers of knowledge” (nazr‑e nâqedân‑e ma’ârefe), while also adding that this “trifling merchandise” (bazâ’at‑e mazje) had never been sent to Egypt in the first place. Nonetheless, he describes how his accusers could furnish proof that a letter had passed through the borders; moreover, Baghdâdi’s correspondence was assembled and collated, and the offending missive was inserted in the middle.96 Interestingly, a century earlier, Abu’l-Fazl Beyhaqi narrated the famous trial and execution of the Ghaznavid vizier Hasanak, who had been accused of being a Qarmatian on account of the fact that he had passed through Egypt and accepted a robe from the Fatimid caliph.97 Fabricating connections with the Fatimid state seems to have been a useful means by which bureaucratic and courtly rivals could impinge the reputation of a competitor. Baghdâdi never names his accusers, but he was imprisoned (according to the modern scholar Dhabih-Allâh Safâ) by the main vizier Nezâm-al-Molk Shams-al-Din Heravi (d. 596/1199–1200) after a fierce disagreement.98 Al-Tavassol elâ’l-tarassol was likely finished after his release since the main dedicatee is Nezâm-al-Molk, and is described in superlative terms: “he is the greatest of the Arabs and the Persians” and the “most important minister in the east and the west”; Baghdâdi also goes to great rhetorical length—using the popular metaphors of gardens and justice—to highlight the mercy and clemency of Nezâm-al-Molk.99 96 Bahâ’-al-Din Baghdâdi, al-Tavassol elâ’l-tarassol, p. 5. 97 Abu’l-Fazl Beyhaqi, Târikh, tr. C. E. Bosworth and rev. M. Ashtiany as The History of Beyhaqi (3 vols., Cambridge Mass., 2011), I, pp. 272–73; Marilyn R. Waldman, Toward a Theory of Historical Narrative: A Case Study in the Perso-Islamicate Historiography (Columbus, 1980), p. 167. 98 Safa, “Bahā’-al-Din Baḡdādi,” p. 430. 99 He also compares him to the famous Buyid vizier, Ebn-Abbâd; Bahâ’-alDin Baghdâdi, al-Tavassol elâ’l-tarassol, p. 7.

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Following this testimony, Baghdâdi presents a section on the particulars and examples with respect to the substance or purpose (mâdde) and form (surat) of correspondence, and it is here that our author uses his preface to present his vision of the epistolographic genre.100 He invokes immediately the literary tension between natural (matbu’) and artificial (masnu’) writing, stating that matbu’ or clear and sensible words, should be reflections of the cerebral recognition (qovvat‑e khâter), which emerges from praising the subject of contemplation. Masnu’, however, described here as “delicate and enchanted writing” (sokhan‑e raqiq va del-âviz), emerges after witnessing (moshâhade) the features [of the subject], without any sense of greater introspection. He is quick to point out that there are many approaches to epistolary prose among the lords of this craft, and some of them have opted for the path of parallelism (tarsi’) and rhyming (tasji’), effectively understood here as masnu’; on this front, Baghdâdi name-drops Abu’l-Hasan Ahvâzi and his contemporary Rashid-al-Din Vatvât.101 This method of masnu’ is not loved (mahbub), and he laments how one pillar (Vatvât) fell onto this path, and that this excellency of eloquence (jâneb‑e fasâhat) continued to practice the defilement of tarsi’ during his career. It is at this juncture that Baghdâdi’s commentary on the debate between matbu’ and masnu’ assumes an intriguing undertone. He writes how these “people characterized by opposition” had transmitted their “eloquence-hindered writing and speech” and that this style amounts to “ceremonious senselessness” and “errant impurity”; on the other hand, another group has opted power and strength regarding the preparation and adorning of writing.102 For Baghdâdi this debate should be seen no less than an epic battle, where the ancient ones (motaqaddemân) were “warriors [in] the battleground of writing and the arena of art” (mobârezan‑e meydân‑e sokhan va mobârezan‑e mezmâr‑e honar); in following the path of Arabic and Persian, they observed “the path of straightness” (jâde-ye qavim) and “the road of rectitude” (nahj‑e mos100 Bahâ’-al-Din Baghdâdi, al-Tavassol elâ’l-tarassol, p. 9. 101 Bahâ’-al-Din Baghdâdi, al-Tavassol elâ’l-tarassol, p. 9. 102 Bahâ’-al-Din Baghdâdi, al-Tavassol elâ’l-tarassol, p. 10.

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taqim). The religious metaphors continue as he describes how the aforementioned group are circumambulating the Ka’ba (in a fashion) of masnu’, and with their strength and sense of security, they produce letters indulging in different devices like tajnis (paronomasia), eshteqâq (derivation) movâzanat (sentences with similar morphological patterns), motâbaqe (antithesis), and others.103 In doing so, they drink from delicious writing and smooth-tasting words, but in reality they are imbibing from a delicacy of speech (reqqat‑e alfâz) that has no subtlety of meaning (deqqat‑e ma’âni). Baghdâdi boldly states that he is in solidarity (dar saff ) with the “ancients,” and stands apart from the aforementioned “excellent, learned ones” who quaff at this trough of masnu’.104 In the light of the martial terms used earlier, Baghdâdi conceived of writing as an essence that had been preserved in relative perfection before the advent of “artificial” language. He insists that he has presented the “correct writing,” which is based on the “original craft” and “true choice” that is available only to scholars like him.105 There are two necessities: first, you should be predisposed towards this kind of activity wherein you look at a letter as a “beloved” (mahbub) and remain “frustrated” (bi-nasib) that you cannot grasp its reality. Second, one should be committed to protecting “the core of writing” (bayze-ye ketâbat) and the “treasury of the secrets of rhetoric” (khezâne-ye asrâr‑e balâghat), but nonetheless recognize the heterogeneity of epistolography (aqsâm‑e tarassol); he uses the metaphor of patching together an old garment with ripped patches of multi-colored cloth which have been gathered.106 Monsha’ât‑e khâsse, or elite epistolary prose, is by far the strongest and most numerous in this field in his estimation, but these are perfumed with tropes (ebârât) and metaphors (este’ârât), and on the basis of this, monsha’ât‑e khâsse should be considered neither magisterial nor exalted in terms of its nature or inclination.107 103 104 105 106 107

Bahâ’-al-Din Baghdâdi, al-Tavassol elâ’l-tarassol, p. 10. Bahâ’-al-Din Baghdâdi, al-Tavassol elâ’l-tarassol, p. 11. Bahâ’-al-Din Baghdâdi, al-Tavassol elâ’l-tarassol, p. 10. Bahâ’-al-Din Baghdâdi, al-Tavassol elâ’l-tarassol, p. 11. Bahâ’-al-Din Baghdâdi, al-Tavassol elâ’l-tarassol, p. 11.

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The pedestrian proclivities here and earlier sartorial references suggest that Baghdâdi was at least sympathetic to mainstream Sufism as it existed in the 12 th-century Persianate world. This interpretation is cemented even further when we discover that he was a brother of Majd-al-Din Baghdâdi (1149–1219), a prominent Sufi shaikh and Kobravi theosophist of the 12 th century.108 Ahmad b. Omar Majd-al-Din Baghdâdi had been a disciple of Najm-alDin, the founder of the Kobravi Order, who had been styled as vali-tarâsh (“Sculptor of Saints”) in light of his teaching of so many important Sufi shaikhs in the 12 th century. Majd-al-Din Baghdâdi, in turn, was the master of Najm-al-Din Râzi, and may very well have taught the famous Sufi poet, Farid-al-Din Attâr.109 While nothing is written of their early life together (other than that their mother was a prominent physician110), we know that Majd-al-Din had worked (like his brother) closely with the royal court and administration in Khwarazm before embarking on the Sufi path.111 On the basis of this, it would be prudent to look at the language and epistemology of the al-Tavassol elâ’l-tarassol in a new light.112 One cannot help but notice that the concluding line of the dibâche 108 His most famous work is the Tohfat al-barare fi masâ’el al-ashare, MS Tehran, Majles Library, no. 589. A Persian translation and edition was made by Mohammad-Bâqer Sâ’edi-Khorâsâni and Hoseyn Heydar Khâni MoshtâqAli (Tehran, 1990). Majd-al-Din also authored a text entitled Resâle dar safar. 109 Muhammad Isa Waley, “A Kubrawī Manual of Sufism: The Fuṣūṣ al-adab of Yaḥyā Bākharzī,” in L. Lewisohn, ed., The Legacy of Medieval Persian Sufism (London, 1992), p. 291. 110 Annemarie Schimmel, Mystical Dimensions of Islam (Chapel Hill, N. C., 1975), p. 430. 111 Despite Majd-al-Din’s adoption of the somber lifestyle of the Sufis, Jâmi nonetheless notes how he had 20,000 gold dinars a year to spend on his disciples and maintain his khânaqâh; Schimmel, Mystical Dimensions of Islam, p. 238. Also Fritz Meier, citing a variety of primary and secondary sources, discusses his affair with a woman of “high society” who may have been the mother of the Khwārazmshah, his patron; see Fritz Meier, “Ein Briefwechsel zwischen Šaraf ud-Dîn-i Balkhi und Maḡd ud-din-i Baḡdadi,” in S. H. Nasr, ed., Mélanges offerts à Henry Corbin (Tehran, 1977), p. 324. For a good biographical overview, see Hamid Algar, “Kobrawiya ii. The Order,” in EIr, online edition. 112 Interestingly, Mahmud Fotuhi noted such Sufi proclivities in his article, “Az motamakkin tâ kalâm‑e maghlub,” Naqd‑e adabi 3/10 (2010), pp. 52–53.

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appears to have been borrowed from Hojviri’s Kashf al-mahjub, the first Persian prose treatise on Sufism from the 11 th century. We are also intrigued by Bahâ’-al-Din Baghdâdi’s concluding remarks on the rationalization of his title: “in the craft of epistolography, an important mediation (vasilati bozorg) is strengthened by motive,” and for this reason, the title of this work is al-Tavassol elâ’l-tarassol, or “Mediation into Letter-Writing.”113 Of course, Baghdâdi was partly drawn to this term on account of its rhyming with tarassol, but the term tavassol is far more significant and complex than its rendering as “introduction” or “guide” by modern scholars like Safâ and Rypka.114 In populist Sufi terms, tavassol is broadly understood as intervention or intercession, and as such is seen in light of shrine visitations and other ritual performances by Sufis and other Muslims.115 However, it has a greater ontological sense whereby Sufis advance their spiritual epistemology through the active tavassol, or mediation, of departed prophets and saints. Interestingly, Jâmi narrates in his Sufi saint hagiography, the Nafahât al-ons, of how Bahâ’-al-Din’s famous Sufi brother “saw the prophet in his dream and was informed by him that EbnSinâ wanted to reach God without my mediation, and I veiled him with my hand, but he fell into the fire.”116 Bahâ’-al-Din Baghdâdi’s 113 Bahâ’-al-Din Baghdâdi, al-Tavassol elâ’l-tarassol, p. 11. 114 Safa, “Bahā’-al-Din Baḡdādi,” p. 430; Jan Rypka, “Poets and Prose Writers of the Lake Saljuq and Modern Periods,” in CHIr, V, p. 621. 115 Roman Loimeier, “Der dhikr: Zum sozialen Kontext eines religiösen Rituals,” Der Islam 83/1 (2006), p. 170. 116 Abd-al-Rahmân Jâmi, Nafâhat al-ons min hazarât al-qods, ed. Mahdi Towhidi-Pur (Tehran, 1958), p. 427. It is also interesting to note that at the same time that Baghdâdi had been imprisoned in 582/1186–87 (and possibly when the al-Tavassol elâ’l-tarassol was assembled), a famous story was circulating in Khorâsân whereby one Shaikh Ahmad Badili was approached by the citizens of Sabzavar to “intercede” (tavassol) on their behalf with Soltân Shâh b. Il Arslân, who was besieging the city as part of his campaign to overthrow Alâ’-al-Din Takesh. Shaikh Badili was one of the “special saints” of the day (abdâl‑e zamâne), who was matchless in the sciences of faith and truth, and it was thanks to his mediation that the city was spared. Abdâl actually refers to one of a seven or, more commonly, forty-member class of saints (owliyâ’). Joveyni, Târikh‑e jahângoshâ, II, p. 515. See also Hamid Algar, “Badili, Shaykh Aḥmad,” in EIr III, p. 380.

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use of his epistolography treatise to profile certain Sufi proclivities was also likely a reflection of his relationship with his literary adversary, Rashid-al-Din Vatvât. We know already that Baghdâdi had called into question Vatvât’s approach to enshâ’ on the basis of his fondness for masnu’, or artificial writing. Vatvât’s most famous work, Hadâ’eq al-sehr fi daqâ’eq al-she’r, is essentially a list of rhetorical devices used in poetry, and Van Gelder reduces this text as simply an “inventory of badi’.”117 Vatvât promoted openly those very devices—tarsi’ and tajnis, for instance, as well as metaphors (este’ârât) and similes (tashbihât)—which Baghdâdi had denigrated so caustically.118 However, Vatvât was also well-known among his contemporaries for his staunch orthodoxy and criticism of philosophy and practice; as Jan Rypka noted, “even less attractive is [Vatvat’s] religious fanaticism and contempt of philosophy.”119 The religious climate of the 12 th-century Persianate world was certainly dynamic, but there is no mistaking that the postGhazalian Shafi’i-Ash’ari Muslim world was leery, if not openly contemptuous, of any conception of science which was not rooted in the Qur’anic and Prophetic traditions.120 Baghdâdi’s former nemesis and jailor, the Khwārazmian vizier Nezâm-al-Molk Shams-alDin Heravi, was an active patron of Shafi’i’s and used his personal wealth and political will to build Shafi’i mosque complexes in Marv and elsewhere at the expense of the “liberal” Hanafi community.121 While it would be unhelpful to draw firm delineations across this manifold landscape of religion, philosophy, and literature, there is good reason to see Rashid-al-Din Vatvât as part of the Shafi’i tradition which was hostile to philosophy-rooted conceptions of language which did not necessarily acknowledge the Divine 117 G. J. H. Van Gelder, Beyond the Line: Classical Arabic Literary Critics on the Coherence and Unity of the Poem (Leiden, 1982), p. 141. 118 Horst, “Arabische Briefe der Ḫorazmšāhs an den Kalifenhof,” pp. 24–30, makes note of Vatvât’s generous use of devices like tarsi’, tajnis, saj’, and movâzane in his Arabic correspondence to the Abbasid caliphs. 119 Rypka, in HIL, p. 200. 120 Allesandro Bausani, “Religion in the Saljuq Period,” in CHIr, V, p. 287; Wilferd Madelung, Religious Trends in Early Islamic Iran (Albany, 1988), pp. 28–29. 121 Madelung, Religious Trends in Early Islamic Iran, p. 36.

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provenance of literary theory; the latter was a position which tended to be popular among other groups of theosophical-minded, and often Iranian, bureaucrat-scholars like Bahâ’-al-Din Baghdâdi.

Arâ’es al-khavâter va nafâ’es al-navâder122 by Rashid-alDin Vatvât (d. 578/1182–83) Bahâ’-al-Din Baghdâdi’s rival, Rashid-al-Din Vatvât, had been well positioned in the chancellery of the Khwârazmshah dynasty for much of the 12 th century. His own enshâ’ compilation, Arâ’es al-khavâter va nafâ’es al-navâder (Brides of Thoughts and Precious Rarities), is organized on a linguistic basis with Arabic letters comprising the first section and Persian missives making up the second section. We know already that Vatvât was especially fond of rhyming phrases (saj’) and other prose rhetorical devices; Horst comments on this at length in his treatment of Vatvât’s Arabic epistles, and a review of some sample letters sent to fellow-litterateurs like Montajab-al-Din Joveyni certainly indicate that he was fond of rhyming sets of vocabulary and took to inundating his epistolary texts with full and partial Qur’anic quotes (eqtebâs) as well as Prophetic traditions.123 His dibâche to this work is not especially noteworthy, and we find nothing in the way of larger rationale for the elm‑e enshâ’, or theoretical discussions regarding the origins, epistemology or ontology of prose writing. He praises God, introduces himself as the author and “king of scribes” (malek al-kottâb) 122 It should be noted that no copy of Arâ’es al-khavâter wa nafâ’es al-navâder, or his other collection (Abkâr al-afkâr fi’l-rasâ’el va al-ash’ âr), were locatable. However, Qâsem Tuysarkâni edited and published the Persian letters from these above compilations as Nâme-hâ-ye Rashid-al-Din Vatvât (Tehran, 1960). The dibâche of pp. 2–3, according to the editor’s notes, was taken directly from the Arâ’es al-khavâter. Translations of some of Vatvât’s Arabic letters can be found in Heribert Horst, “Arabische Briefe der Ḫorazmšāhs an den Kalifenhof aus der Feder des Rašīd ad-Dīn Waṭwāṭ,” Zeitschrift der Deutschen Morgenländischen Gesellschaft 116 (1966), pp. 24–43. 123 Horst, “Arabische Briefe der Ḫorazmšāhs an den Kalifenhof,” pp. 25–30; Rashid-al-Din Vatvât, Nâme-hâ-ye Rashid-al-Din Vatvât, pp. 33–34, pp. 49–50, pp. 51–52, pp. 53–54, pp. 55–56, pp. 57–60, pp. 62–63.

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and “master of the two eloquences” (dhu’l-bayâneyn, possibly a reference to the Qur’an and Arabic rhetoric in general), while concluding with a dedication to his Khwârazmshahid patron, likely Il-Arslân, but perhaps a high-ranking notable.124 While the dibâche itself reveals relatively little, we do notice a distinct hint of jingoism in his early letters on behalf of the Khwârazmshah ruler Atsiz (d. 551/1156). In a letter to the caliph al-Moqtafi, Vatvât describes how “rebels” and “insurgents” had taken over large parts of Khorasan and Transoxania; they in turn had destroyed madrasas and mosques, and if they were not brought to account, their “sparks” would spread to Iraq.125 This strife and dislocation was likely part of the greater tension and conflict which characterized many eastern Iranian cities as Hanafis and Shafi’is contested one another for religious and politico-social primacy in the 12 th century.126 In another letter, entitled “an examination of a foolish secretary,” Vatvât describes how one Ahmad Zowzani—renowned for his sin and vice—had slapped and ruptured the testicle of a rival and friend of Vatvât’s named Khwâje Othmân Beyhaqi. Vatvât, on the orders of his sovereign lord, had a decree drawn up, and Zowzani was promptly arrested according to a Shari’a interpretation that to emasculate a man and his ability to reproduce was a grievous sin; it seems almost certain that this particular testicular dispute hung from a larger Hanafi-Shafi’i binary.127 Although Ahmad Zowzani and Othmân Beyhaqi may very well have been real and discrete individuals in the Khwarazmian court, undoubtedly Vatvât was referencing the far more famous and complex relationship between Bu-Sahl‑e Zowzani and Abu’l-Fazl Beyhaqi. Beyhaqi had worked under Bu-Sahl‑e Zowzani as a chancellery official, but his later chronicle is somewhat condemnatory of the nature of Zowzani (long since passed away) as being engrained with “a streak of wickedness and malevolence.”128 Indeed, Zowzani’s reputation as the 124 The dedicatee is referred to as Abu’l-Fath Mohammad b. Ali al-Hajji; Rashid-al-Din Vatvât, Nâme-hâ-ye Rashid-al-Din Vatvât, p. 2. 125 Horst, “Arabische Briefe der Ḫorazmšāhs an den Kalifenhof,” p. 37. 126 Madelung, Religious Trends in Early Islamic Iran, pp. 28–32. 127 Rashid-al-Din Vatvât, Nâme-hâ-ye Rashid-al-Din Vatvât, p. 63. 128 Abu’l-Fazl Beyhaqi, The History of Beyhaqi, I, p. 271.

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reification of greed and megalomania, in line with other infamous viziers, looms large in medieval Persian historiography. However, intersecting this relationship between Bu-Sahl‑e Zowzani and Abu’l-Fazl Beyhaqi is the burgeoning tension in 11 th-century Khorasan among philosophical and legal constituencies. Abu’l-Fazl Beyhaqi’s commitment to Shafi’ism was no secret, while Bu-Sahl‑e Zowzani was likely a Hanafi on account of the fact that he had helped his patron and lord, Mas’ud Ghaznavi, to promote officially Hanafi scholarship in the eastern Islamic lands.129 Also intriguing, however, are Beyhaqi’s comments that Bu-Sahl developed a closed circle of intimacy with the secretaries Khwâje Tâher b. Abd-Allâh and Bu’l-Hasan Erâqi, who had arrived recently from Buyid employment in Rayy; with this, in combination with various indicators that Bu-Sahl‑e Zowzani may have had Alid connections, we wonder if Beyhaqi and other Shafi’is had suspicions about some sort of Mu’tazilite-Shi’ite inclination.130 The combination of using onomastic historical exemplars within multiple narratives was relatively common among litterateurs and historians;131 in this way, Vatvât’s juxtaposition of the neutering dabir Ahmad Zowzani (full of “sin and vice”) with the suffering yet noble Othmân Beyhaqi was no subtle invocation of another famous cruel and iniquitous bureaucratic figure of dubious religious convictions being contraposed with a model Shafi’i scholar and adib of good standing. Wilferd Madelung suggested that Khwarazm could continue to host Mu’tazilite elements well into the Saljuq and Khwarazmshah periods132; while certainly tentative as a suggestion, it is conceivable that Vatvât was using onomastic rhetorical tools as a means of castigating his contemporary Zowzani as a pseudo-Mu’tazilite. 129 Madelung, Religious Trends in Early Islamic Iran, pp. 28–29. 130 Jamâl Rezâ’i, “Bu Sahl‑e Zowzani dar Târikh‑e Beyhaqi,” in Yâd-nâme-ye Abu’l-Fazl‑e Beyhaqi (Mashhad, 1971), p. 221; see Bosworth’s footnote 126 in Beyhaqi, Târikh‑e Beyhaqi, tr., III, p. 129. 131 Meisami, “History as Literature,” pp. 24–25; idem, “Eleventh-Century Women: Evidence from Bayhaqi’s History,” in G. Nashat and L. Beck, eds., Women in Iran From the Rise of Islam to 1800 (Urbana-Champagne, Ill., 2003), pp. 94–95. 132 Madelung, Religious Trends in Early Islamic Iran, p. 38.

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3. Innovative Impulses: The Mongol Era (1250–1400)133 The Mongol era of the late 13 th and 14 th centuries was equally significant with respect to the development of Persian poetic and prose literature. The Mongols would likewise come to patronize and sponsor Iranian religious intelligentsia and bureaucrat-scholars to assist them in assembling a chimera-like system of governance; Turco-Mongol aspects of law and customary administration were amalgamated with the Perso-Islamic model that had been developed in the 11 th and 12 th centuries. In this sense, Persian literature would continue to dominate bureaucracies (davânin) and courtly assemblies (majâles).

Rowzat al-kottâb va hadiqat al-albâb by Abu-Bakr Ebn-alZaki Motatabbeb Qonavi (ca. 678/1279)134 Our first Persian epistolographic text being considered here, the Rowzat al-kottâb va hadiqat al-albâb (Garden of Scribes and Orchard of Intellects) by Abu-Bakr Ebn-al-Zaki Motatabbeb Qonavi (d. ca. 133 As in the earlier Saljuq section, there are enshâ’ works from this era which are not analyzed meaningfully here. This was either due to their lack of availability, or the fact that they contained unsubstantial prefatory sections. Exceptions include Falak-Alâ’ Abd-Allâh b. Ali Tabrizi’s Resâle-ye falakiyye (706/1306), Mohammad-Hajji b. Mahmud Bokhâri-Sa’idi’s Meftâh al-enshâ’, Sharaf-al-Din Fazl-Allâh Qazvini’s al-Tarassol al-nasriyye, Ghiyâth-al-Molk Esmâ’il b. Nezâm-al-Molk Abarquhi’s Tohfe-ye bahâ’i (746/1345), Zâher-al-Din Mohammad b. Mahmud b. Hamze Fâryâbi’s Dastur al-enshâ’ (c. 761/1359), and Mo’in-al-Din Ali b. Jalâl-al-Din Mohammad Abbâse-ye Shâhrestâni-Yazdi’s (d. 780/1387) untitled work on the rules and customs of enshâ’. For details on manuscript copies and locations, see Dâneshpazhuh, “Dabiri va nevisandagi,” pp. 164–66. Some of these have been published, and such enshâ’ works were profiled in a special series of the bibliographical monthly, Ketâb‑e mâh—târikh va jogrâfiyâ. For discussion of specific enshâ’ sources that have been published, see Nasr-Allâh Sâlehi, “Ketâb-shenâsi-ye towsifi-ye monsha’ât, mokâtebât, va nâme-hâ,” Ketâb‑e mâh—târikh va jogrâfiyâ 5 (2002), pp. 55–152. 134 Abu-Bakr Ebn-al-Zaki, Rowzat al-kottâb va hadiqat al-albâb, ed. Ali Sevim as Ravżat al-Kuttāb va Ḥadīḳat al-Albāb (Ankara, 1972).

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694/1294), is very much a reflection of these larger trends. There is very little biographical information about this individual, other than that he lived in Konya in the second half of the 13 th century when Anatolia was beset with internal rivalries among Turkmen confederations while all the while contending with Mongol pressure from both the north (the Golden Horde) and the east (the Ilkhans). His name indicates that he worked at some point as a physician (motatabbeb), while also boasting the laqab of Sadr, suggesting that he was a bureaucratic functionary of considerable rank. He had been a student/ disciple of one Badr-al-Din Yahyâ, whom the 14 th-century hagiographer Shams-al-Din Ahmad Aflâki describes simply as being a Persian poet in the 13 th century who himself was a student of the historian and functionary in the Saljuq sultanate of Rum’s divân‑e toghrâ’i (chief functionary), Ebn-Bibi.135 A cursory examination of the letters and their addressees indicates that Abu-Bakr Ebn-al-Zaki also worked on behalf of Bahâ’-al-Din, the amir al-savâhel, or governor of the Anatolian coastlands, during the reign of Ghiyâth-al-Din Key Khosrow III (663–81/1265–82).136 Beginning in the 1220 s, and continuing through the next fifty years, Saljuq dynastic figures, Iranian notables and administrators, Persian poets, litterateurs, and a large array of religious figures had fled to Anatolia, especially to Konya, in advance of the Mongol invasions of the 1220 s and 1250 s. Abu-Bakr Ebn-al-Zaki bears a konye that may very well connect him with the Banu’l-Zaki of Damascus, although there is no existing corroboration of this. The Banu’l-Zaki were prominent notables in Damascus in the 12 th and 13 th centuries and are principally noted as being sponsors and supporters of the great mystic and theologian, Ebn-al-Arabi (d. 638/1240); indeed, Ebn-al-Arabi passed away in the home of the qâzi, Mohyi-al-Din Ebn-al-Zaki, who in turn oversaw the ensuing funerary rites and burial of the great mystic in the family graveyard in the neighboring district of Sâlehiyye, on the slopes of Mount Qâsiyun.137 135 Osman G. Özgüdenlı, “Persian Authors of Asia Minor, Part I,” EIr, online; Sâlehi, “Ketâb-shenâsi-ye towsifi-ye monsha’ât, mokâtebât, va nâme-hâ,” p. 71. 136 Claude Cahen, The Formation of Turkey: The Seljukid Sultanate of Rūm, Eleventh to Fourteenth Century, tr. P. M. Holt (Essex, 2001), p. 206. 137 Alexander Knysh, Ibn ʿArabi in the Later Islamic Tradition: The Making of a Polemical Image in Medieval Islam (Albany, 1999), p. 30; Stephen

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The dibâche of the Rowzat al-kottâb va hadiqat al-albâb (believed by Ali Sevim to have been compiled around 1279138), certainly confirms that Abu-Bakr Ebn-al-Zaki was a Sufi who was directly inspired by the theosophical landscape of 13 th-century Anatolia. In addition to Ebn-al-Arabi, who had earlier spent part of his itinerant teaching life in places like Konya, the mystical poet Jalâl-al-Din Rumi (d. 672/1273) had been a denizen of Konya and a contemporary of Abu-Bakr Ebn-al-Zaki. Mohammad-Amin Riyâhi detailed in 1990 how Abu-Bakr had been trained in medicine by an Iranian physician, Akmal-al-Din Nakhjavâni, who was in turn an active disciple of Rumi.139 While Abu-Bakr’s laqab of Sadr certainly reflects his work as a chancellery official, one wonders also if it could not have been somehow connected with Sadr-alDin Qonavi, Ebn-al-Arabi’s stepson and appointed successor as well as disseminator of his teachings in the mid-13 th century. Sadral-Din Qonavi transmitted his stepfather’s texts and teachings to many contemporary theosophists of the Persianate world, including Qotb-al-Din al-Shirâzi, and was no small part of the increased Persianization of Anatolia and western Iran in this period.140 Abu-Bakr begins the dibâche of his treatise141 with a dedication to God, but the scope and depth of this particular dedication is unparalleled. Akin to the structure of Ebn-al-Arabi’s oeuvre, al-Fotuhât al-Makkiye (The Meccan Revelations), Abu-Bakr presents his encomium to God on the basis of a series of divine traits. In Hirtenstein, The Unlimited Mercifier: The Spiritual Life and Thought of Ibn ʿArabi (Oxford, 1999), p. 220. 138 Ali Sevim, “Önsöz” (Introduction), in Abu-Bakr Ebn-al-Zaki, Rowzat alkottâb va hadiqat al-albâb, p. viii. 139 Mohammad-Amin Riyâhi, Zabân va adab‑e fârsi dar qalamrow‑e Othmâni (Tehran, 1990), p. 127. 140 Jane Clark, “Early Best-Seller in the Akhbarian Tradition: The Dissemination of Ibn ʿArabi’s Teaching Through Sadr al-Din al-Qunawi,” Journal of the Muhyiddin Ibn ʿArabi Society 33 (2003), pp. 22–53. 141 Part of the title itself, specifically hadiqat al-albâb is more than likely a reference to Ebn-al-Arabi’s specific discussion of the heavenly “walled garden” (hadiqat) which separates the manifest and non-manifest aspects of reality, while he translates albâb, not as “kernels,” but as “rational faculties.” See William Chittick, The Self-Disclosure of God: Principles of Ibn al-ʿArabi’s Cosmology (Albany, 1998), p. 7.

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the same way that Ebn-al-Arabi divides his work into six parts on the basis of divine attributes (al-Alim, al-Morid, al-Qâder, al-Motakallem, al-Sami’, al-Basir), Abu-Bakr presents a series of godly characteristics based on these terms, along with short supplemental descriptions, to introduce his epistolographic work: atufi (lit. “a/the compassionate one’ = compassion), and similarly jabbâri (omnipotence), mojiri (protectiveness), azimi (mightiness), alimi (knowledge), qâderi (powerfulness), ma’budi (being the object of worship), latifi (subtlety), hakimi (wisdom), javâdi (generosity), and vahhâbi (gift-giving).142 Abu-Bakr begins formally with the divine quality of “lordship” (khodâvandi) wherein the quest to attain an understanding of the attributes of His incomparable essence (dhât) results in reason (aql) and thought (fekr) constantly swimming in the whirlpool of disturbed amazement (heyrân); those prescient ones sojourn across the plain of gnosis (ma’refat), but their travel across this “imagination of the wayfarer” (khiyâl‑e jahân-navard) involves them perpetually falling and staggering to their feet in a state of impotency.143 The key concept here—khiyâl‑e jahân—was of course central to Ebnal-Arabi; in addition to meaning imagination, khiyâl also referred to the images, or the “objective realities” we experience on this earthly plain. For Ebn-al-Arabi, these are mirror-reflections of non-existence (adam) and are not in of themselves “true” existence.144 Only those who have been lifted in their journey to God, such as prophets and saints, and those who actively embrace imagination are able to reach higher levels of awareness; those who privilege rational thought, namely philosophers, will forever be “camel-riders” who traverse “the desert of bewilderment.”145 Abu-Bakr then lists God’s second quality—atufi (compassion)—which echoes Ebn-alArabi’s arguments regarding creation (khalq) and the notion that Divine Unity continually defines all created things (makhluqât). He observes how with one divine glance, thousands of thousands of 142 William Chittick, Ibn ʿArabi: Heir to the Prophets (London, 2007), p. 61; Hirtenstein, The Unlimited Mercifier, pp. 161–62, p. 215. 143 Abu-Bakr Ebn-al-Zaki, Rowzat al-kottâb va hadiqat al-albâb, p. 1. 144 Chittick, Ibn ʿArabi, p. 106. 145 Hirtenstein, The Unlimited Mercifier, p. 167.

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“heart-ravishing forms were brought forth from the hidden non-existence to the desert of existence,” and that “each one of these [creations] are Divine Unity.”146 Abu-Bakr subsequently introduces “knowledge” (alim) which is only attainable after looking in the mirror of His gnosis (âyene-ye ma’refat) and knowing the hidden secrets (asrâr).147 This “Ebn-Arabi-ian” notion is further explored in Abu-Bakr’s discussion of a subsequent divine trait, namely being the object of worship (ma’budi). Here, he describes how God’s gnosis can be traced in circular fashion with the surrounding lines of the universe, and on this basis “the appropriate language of the Universal Intellect” is the “most excellent of created entities” (afzal‑e mowjudât) and the “first created beings” (avval‑e makhluqât).148 Abu-Bakr also appears to have been inspired by the theosophical poetry of Jalâl-al-Din Rumi while writing this dibâche. “Power” (jabbâri) is described in terms of the ability of the gnat to enter the skull of King Nimrod and kill him, while the tradition of Moses using his wooden staff to amaze the magicians of the Pharaoh of Egypt is also invoked; both of these traditions were discussed by Rumi in his Mathnavi in relation to the ability of God’s created beings—especially in the tale of the hare and the lion—to overpower tyranny and injustice.149 Under the rubric of divine subtlety (latifi), we read how the wolf and the sheep come together at the waterhole and are blessed in the unifying love of mother and child; in this way, different and opposing elements (arkân‑e mokhtalef va anâser‑e motazâd) are fused together in one.150 Another Rumi-inspired narrative, under the divine quality of “protection” (mojiri), motivates Abu-Bakr to present the “weak ant” who is anxiously gripping his “thick cord” (habl al-matin); in turn, “the eye of the snake” (dide-ye mâr) re-appears from behind, presumably to help the struggling ant.151 For Rumi, however, the contraposition of the 146 147 148 149

Abu-Bakr Ebn-al-Zaki, Rowzat al-kottâb va hadiqat al-albâb, p. 2. Abu-Bakr Ebn-al-Zaki, Rowzat al-kottâb va hadiqat al-albâb, pp. 2–3. Abu-Bakr Ebn-al-Zaki, Rowzat al-kottâb va hadiqat al-albâb, p. 3. Jalâl-al-Din Rumi, Mathnavi-ye ma’navi, ed. and tr. R. A. Nicholson as The Mathnawi of Jalalu’ddin Rumi (repr., 6 vols., Tehran, 2002), I, pp. 128–29. 150 Abu-Bakr Ebn-al-Zaki, Rowzat al-kottâb va hadiqat al-albâb, p. 3. 151 Abu-Bakr Ebn-al-Zaki, Rowzat al-kottâb va hadiqat al-albâb, p. 2.

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ant and the snake was a metaphor for the hidden lust in creation: he talks in the Mathnavi of how “the ant of worldly lust has through habit become as a snake. Kill the snake of lust (mâr‑e shahvat) at the beginning—else, look you, your snake has become a dragon (azhdahâ).”152 Likewise, the mystic poet Sanâ’i wrote in the Hadiqat al-haqiqe: “the ant of desire emerges from a blackness within—and quickly that ant becomes a snake.”153 The reference here in Rowzat al-kottâb to the ant’s gripping of his thick cord, and the appearance of the eye of the snake, suggests that Abu-Bakr was not above some playful dalliance of his own regarding metaphorical language.154 Abu-Bakr’s dibâche continues after this section on divine qualities to describe God’s act of creation with terms and concepts fashioned recently by Ebn-al-Arabi. Interestingly, he moves directly to commenting how “may there be hundreds of thousands of prayers and blessings on the spirit of the Khwâje” which has brought certainty to people with the “light of gnosis from the tumult of the night of ignorance.” This unnamed “Khwâje” is almost certainly to be understood as the Prophet (although there are no standard titulatures or blessings attached), but we wonder if Abu-Bakr was not subtly referencing Ebn-al-Arabi himself here. This aforementioned spirit confounded “wise lords and experienced masters” with “manifest miracles and compelling signs,” and Abu-Bakr wishes for continuation and succession for this Khwâje’s successors (kholafâ) who were the “kings of the realm of certitude” (sarvarân‑e molk‑e yaqin).155 Here, Abu-Bakr introduces himself and his motivation for writing the Rowzat al-kottâb va hadiqat al-albâb. He describes how earlier, during the flower of his youth, he had come into possession of a number of books in Arabic and was introduced to epistolary writings in Arabic and Persian and other poetic and prose 152 Rumi, Mathnavi-ye ma’navi, Book 2, pp. 362–63. 153 Sanâ’i Ghaznavi, Hadiqat al-haqiqe va shari’at al-tariqe, ed. Modarres Rezavi (Tehran, 1998), p. 370. 154 For more insightful analyses of Rumi regarding topics of sexuality in the Mathnavi, see Mahdi Tourage, Rumi and the Hermeneutics of Eroticism (Leiden, 2007). 155 Abu-Bakr Ebn-al-Zaki, Rowzat al-kottâb va hadiqat al-albâb, p. 4.

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texts.156 He describes how he kneeled in the presence of “masters of this art” and was guided appropriately by his master and teacher: Badr-al-Din Yahyâ. This individual is applauded by Abu-Bakr as the “master of the two rhetorics” (dhu’l-bayâneyn) and “lord of the two tongues” (sâheb al-lesâneyn); moreover, he was peerless in writing and rhetoric.157 According to Riyâhi, Badr-al-Din Yahyâ was a prominent scribe (dabir) under Key Khosrow II who had been born in Konya but whose family had come to Anatolia from Gorgan; parts of his own compilation, the Monsha’ât‑e Badr-alDin Yahyâ, are allegedly still extant.158 Abu-Bakr writes how personal letters of his (ekhvâniyyât) were read by confederates (ziyâ’, wanderers; i. e. fellow Sufis), who exhorted him to compile a collection.159 Clearly, Abu-Bakr was uncomfortable with such activity, quoting an Arabic maxim “to write is to expose yourself to danger” and decided to avoid the “threat of unjust and uncivil slanderers.”160 He acquiesced to their demands after some time, quoting the wellknown Arabic phrase also used frequently in Persian: “he who is following orders is excused” (al-ma’mur ma’zur), and declares self-deprecatingly that this enshâ’ text is his own “trifling merchandise” (bazâ’at‑e mazje) and “defective silver” (sim‑e nâ-sare) to be placed on the “corrupt scale of the coin-assayers of speech and the money-changers of meaning.”161 The scribal and literary terrain could be a difficult one, and AbuBakr clearly had reservations about including himself in any ongoing debates; his decision to use pecuniary metaphoric language would be deemed perfectly appropriate for a Sufi such as himself. He buttresses his point by quoting a fragment (qet’e 335) of Anvari: “I am too apprehensive of the derisory smiles [or smirking 156 Abu-Bakr Ebn-al-Zaki, Rowzat al-kottâb va hadiqat al-albâb, p. 5. 157 Abu-Bakr Ebn-al-Zaki, Rowzat al-kottâb va hadiqat al-albâb, p. 5. 158 Riyâhi, Zabân va adab‑e Fârsi dar qalamrow‑e Othmâni, pp. 126–27, states that some letters of Badr-al-Din Yahyâ are currently in the collection of Hoseyn Nakhjavâni. The Nakhjavâni collection is now part of the Tabriz municipal library (Ketâb-khâne-ye melli-e Tabriz). 159 Abu-Bakr Ebn-al-Zaki, Rowzat al-kottâb va hadiqat al-albâb, pp. 5–6. 160 Abu-Bakr Ebn-al-Zaki, Rowzat al-kottâb va hadiqat al-albâb, p. 6. 161 Baghdâdi used such terms in his earlier al-Tavassol elâ’l-tarassol.

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mockery] of scented herbs/ To dispatch [my] thorn-riddled acacia to the garden.”162 These misgivings aside, Abu-Bakr also saw the genre of enshâ’ and its proximity with state officials and governing structures as a means of disseminating the theories and concepts which were currently in vogue in 13 th-century Anatolia: “It is to be hoped that when this comes to be perused by the eminent, thanks to the nature of their appraisal which in truth is like the alchemical red sulphur and elixir, in the eyes of the beholders its rocklike nature will turn into precious gems and in the palate of its readers any poison will turn into sugar.”163Almost certainly, the reference to the “red sulfur and greatest elixir” was to Ebn-al-Arabi himself.164

Dastur al-kâteb fi ta’yin al-marâteb by Mohammad b. Hendushâh Nakhjavâni (d. after 768/1366)165 Our second Mongol-era epistolographic text is arguably one of the most famous treatises on enshâ’ from the medieval period: Mohammad b. Hendushâh Nakhjavâni’s Dastur al-kâteb fi ta’yin almarâteb (Manual of the Scribe Regarding the Affixing of Ranks). Available since 1964, thanks to Abd-al-Karim Alizâde’s Moscow edition, the Dastur al-kâteb has been invaluable for socio-economic and administrative history on account of its size and scope, 162 This verse was written in response to the judge Hakim-al-Din Balkhi who had written some verse praising Anvari; Owhad-al-Din Mohammad Anvari, Divân‑e Anvari, ed. Modarres Rezavi, (2 vols., Tehran, 1961), II, p. 679. Nafisi’s edition has a rubric for this qet’e entitled “[How They Discuss] the Truth of Qâzi Hamid-al-Din Balkhi”; see Divân‑e Anvari, ed. Sa’id Nafisi (Tehran, 1959), p. 425. 163 Abu-Bakr Ebn-al-Zaki, Rowzat al-kottâb va hadiqat al-albâb, pp. 6–7. 164 Stephen Hirtenstein, “Names and Titles of Ibn ʿArabi,” Journal of the Muhyiddin Ibn ʿArabi Society 41 (2007), appearing online at www.­ibnarabisociety. org/articles/mssnames.html. The appearance here in this context might give pause to reconsider Hirtenstein’s assertion that this title was not used to denote Ebn-al-Arabi until later in the 16 th century. 165 Mohammad b. Hendushâh Nakhjavâni, Dastur al-kâteb, ed. Abd-al-Karim Alizâde (3 vols, Moscow, 1964–76).

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as well as its highly taxonomic and categorical organization. The Dastur al-kâteb was first commissioned in the reign of Abu-Sa’id (716–36/1316–35) by Ghiyâth-al-Din Mohammad (d. 736/1336), the son of the famous Mongol vizier, Rashid-al-Din Fazl-Allâh (644–718/1247–1318); it was not completed until 761/1360 and as such was dedicated to Abu-Sa’id’s successor, the Jalayerid sultan Sheykh Oveys (757–76/1356–74). First, it should be clarified that Nakhjavâni styles his introduction as a moqaddame, or “introduction,” and, second, this moqaddame only begins after several pages of benedictions, encomiums, and dedications. After some relatively brief invocations of God and the Prophet Mohammad, Nakhjavâni signals a transitional shift with the phrase ammâ ba’d, and it is here that he begins a substantive section on the divine providence of speech and writing. Like his predecessor Abu-Bakr Ebn-al-Zaki, Nakhjavâni sees the creation of the universe as a theophanic act (tajalli). He quotes the famous Sufi hadith qodsi “I was a Hidden Treasure, so I loved to be known;” this Hadith was quoted at length by Ebn-alArabi in his discussion of God’s first theophany, and he defended it repeatedly against Hadith scholars who rejected its soundness.166 This tradition is buttressed immediately by another Hadith: “the first thing God created was reason,” which in turn allows humanity to seek out His Truth (haqiqat), Unity (vahdâniyat), and Revealed Reality (haqiqat al-vahiye).167 After declaring mankind to be the best of the three levels of creation (vegetable, mineral, animal—nabât, ma’dan, heyvân), he quotes the same Qur’anic verse (17: 70) used earlier by the Anatolian monshi Abu-Bakr in his own prefatory remarks on creation: “And we have certainly honored the children of Adam and carried them on the land and sea and provided them of the good things and preferred them over much of what We have created, with [definite] preference.”168 Accordingly, Nakhjavâni writes how “it is necessary that this form 166 Chittick, The Self-Disclosure of God, p. 437. 167 Nakhjavâni, Dastur al-kâteb, I, p. 3. 168 Abu-Bakr Ebn-al-Zaki, Rowzat al-kottâb va hadiqat al-albâb, pp. 3–4; Nakhjavâni, Dastur al-kâteb, I, p. 4.

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should be the most honored of all creations, and thus man was distinguished with the honor of speech (notq) from all other living creatures.” The purpose of this divine gift was that prophets, saints, sages, and philosophers could praise and eulogize God’s perfection, power and beauty, and they did this through reports (akhbâr), Hadiths, secrets (asrâr), sayings (aqâvil), verses, and blessings. Tellingly, Nakhjavâni also includes fosus‑e nosus, literally the “bezels of disputations,” but almost certainly a reference to Ebn-al-Arabi’s seminal Fosus al-hekam (“Ringstones of Wisdom”) and further proof of some level of inter-textuality between the Dastur al-kâteb and Abu-Bakr’s Rowzat al-kottâb.169 For Nakhjavâni, the ability to articulate and write was a profound marker of status and prestige; as long as one can articulate speech clearly, words become more religious, writing becomes more beautiful, copying becomes more elegant, and progress up the ladder of nobility and rank increases significantly. For Nakhjavâni, the scribe is an exemplar of those divine qualities of speech and reason, and early on, he demonstrates the relationship between the epistolographic sciences and social stratification by clarifying how a master of enshâ’ is he who can demonstrate that he is able to affix rank to every single king, sultan, amir, grandee, and scholar, whereby he can recite and write the titulatures, blessings and sermons which are appropriate and corresponding to each rank; in this sense, the practitioner of enshâ’ emerges as the promoter and custodian of social hierarchy.170 This is clearly where Nakhjavâni feels he can expound on the immutable qualities of enshâ’ as being part of adab, and notes how a writer excels to the rank of “stylist,” or monshi, when he can use sweet phrases, extraordinary stories, miraculous and pleasant words, amazing quotations, and oral witticisms from Hadiths, historical reports and poetry.171 An Arabic quatrain from the poet Abu-Bakr Khwârazmi (d. ca. 383/993) is quoted, which Nakhjavâni summarizes in Persian prose: “I like ingenuity and dexterity in all things, and I want for a man to be fully 169 Nakhjavâni, Dastur al-kâteb, I, p. 5. 170 Nakhjavâni, Dastur al-kâteb, I, p. 6. 171 Nakhjavâni, Dastur al-kâteb, I, p. 7.

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steeped in whatever art or craft in which he is engaged in and for which he is known.”172 In this sense, Nakhjavâni connects himself with an intricate selsele of litterateurs: Rashid-al-Din Vatvât, Bahâ’-al-Din Mohammad Baghdâdi, Nur-al-Din Monshi, and Rezâ-al-Din Khashshâb.173 However, Nakhjavâni is quick to point out that a monshi must guard against obsolete styles, and while he applauds these aforementioned individuals as “superior in the ranks of eloquence” (fasâhat), he is equally adamant that epistolographers should not indulge in replicating enshâ’ from past periods as summed up in the Arabic phrase, “every age has its unique states and statesmen.”174 What then follows is a lengthy rationalization of why exactly Nakhjavâni has chosen to assemble the Dastur al-kâteb. He considered himself to be instituting a renewal (tajdid), and he was abiding by the principle of the maxim: “for every new thing there comes a joy of renewing its way.”175 By looking to his text, future generations can strengthen and lay out the meaning of all manners of literature: Qur’anic verses, Hadiths, historical reports, annals, decrees, poems, strange stories, wondrous tales, sermons and reprimands, and announcements and instructions. In the instance that the study of expository compounds (tarâkib‑e enshâ’i) becomes dreary, they can be enlivened with pious phrases and excellent idioms, and thus step away from the rule that practitioners of enshâ’ remain on the path of scripted writing (jadval). At this point, Nakhjavâni is explicit regarding the purported function of the Dastur al-kâteb: showing the way of writing and articulation of reports “in order that the ranks of the groups of society can become known.”176 172 Nakhjavâni, Dastur al-kâteb, I, pp. 7–8. For a discussion of the Avicennan commentary on Aristotle’s doctrine of the imagination and its importance for understanding prose and poetry, see Justine Landau, “Nasir al-Din Tusi and Poetic Imagination in the Arabic and Persian Philosophical Tradition,” in Ali Asghar Seyed-Ghohrab, ed., Metaphor and Imagery in Persian Poetry (Leiden, 2012), pp. 15–65. 173 Nakhjavâni, Dastur al-kâteb, I, p. 9. 174 Nakhjavâni, Dastur al-kâteb, I, p. 9. 175 Nakhjavâni, Dastur al-kâteb, I, p. 11. 176 Nakhjavâni, Dastur al-kâteb, I, p. 13.

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Conscious of his patron, the recently enthroned Sheykh Oveys, Nakhjavâni explicitly mentions two matlabs, or objectives, in unveiling this book at this time. The first is to commemorate the accession of the Jalayerid ruler, and here we find a lengthy prose and poetic encomium to this august event and the presentation of the Dastur al-kâteb to celebrate this new era.177 The second matlab is the need to perpetuate the legacy and memory of Sheykh Oveys’ rule for future mankind, and to this end Nakhjavâni is adamant about the notion of obedience (tâ’at). He cites Qur’anic verses, Prophetic traditions and poetry to extol this particular virtue, and this admonition likely reflects the typical fractured political circumstances during times of accession in Turco-Mongol environments, as well as Nakhjavâni’s own predilection for social order and stratification.178 The suggestion that Nakhjavâni worked closely with the Rowzat al-kottâb va hadiqat al-albâb is further borne out in his inclusion of six lines of poetry of Owhad-al-Din Anvari which had first been partly quoted by Abu-Bakr Ebn-al-Zaki in his own enshâ’ manual some decades earlier.179 What follows is an exhaustive table of contents (fehrest) consisting of innumerable qesms, zarbs, surats, fasls, and martabes, and it is here that we begin to appreciate the scope and size of the Dastur al-kâteb.180 After this, we are formally introduced to the moqaddame, which is described as an exposition on the manner of this book, its condition, the various subjects of enshâ’, the role of monshis, and some stories which are appropriate to the necessities and requirements of enshâ’.181 What preceded this formal moqaddame, then, was effectively a preface to the preface. Nakhjavâni reminds the reader that the monshi, while working with previous correspondence and decrees, should create his own style of composition, but in doing so, he should avoid strange and far-fetched phrases. Nor should he be excessively fast in his writing; as Plato stated: 177 Nakhjavâni, Dastur al-kâteb, I, pp. 13–21. 178 Nakhjavâni, Dastur al-kâteb, I, pp. 21–23. 179 Nakhjavâni, Dastur al-kâteb, I, p. 23; Abu-Bakr Ebn-al-Zaki, Rowzat alkottâb va hadiqat al-albâb, p. 6. 180 Nakhjavâni, Dastur al-kâteb, I, pp. 27–55. 181 Nakhjavâni, Dastur al-kâteb, I, p. 55.

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“Do not demand for something to be executed quickly but ask for skillfulness; for people will not ask how long it took you to finish, but they do ask about the quality of the product.”182 In addition to the Arabic, Nakhjavâni—as he had done consistently in prior cases—provides a Persian translation. This admonition from the Greek master is combined seamlessly with the Prophetic tradition: “Haste is from Satan, while deliberation is from God.” If someone writes with speed and employs beautiful language, then he is a rare thing indeed (nâder al-vojud), but nonetheless Nakhjavâni takes pain to make mention of the requisite spacing of lines and proper means of sealing a letter.183 Here, Nakhjavâni turns to the six fasls which make up the bulk of this moqaddame, but he does point out that these are in fact borrowed from one Mowlanâ Hakim-al-Din Nâmus. This, in fact, is Hakim-al-Din Mohammad b. Ali al-Nâmus Khwâri, who wrote an enshâ’ work entitled Tohfe-ye Jalâliyye some fifty years earlier (between 1308 and 1316), and to date this work has received—to the best of my knowledge—almost no attention in Western scholarship.184 Interestingly, and I will elaborate on this later, Nakhjavâni did not replicate the entirety of Khwâri’s dibâche, but copied and paraphrased large parts into his own taxonomy: a) On the Subject of the Science of Enshâ’ 185; b) On the Excellency of the Scribe, his 182 Nakhjavâni, Dastur al-kâteb, I, pp. 59–60. 183 Nakhjavâni, Dastur al-kâteb, I, pp. 60–62. 184 I was first introduced to this work thanks to Ryoko Watabe of the Tokyo University of Foreign Studies, and I am most grateful for her willingness to share a copy of this manuscript with me from the University of Tübingen Library. Dâneshpazhuh mentions this source in his study of epistolography; see “Dabiri va nevisandagi,” p. 165. Most recently, a very small section of this source (in excerpt form) was edited and published; see Qanbar-Ali Rudgar, Nâme-ye Bahârestân 8–9 (2008), pp. 13–22. Rudgar also examined this treatise in the context of his Ph. D. dissertation in Iran; see Qanbar-Ali Rudgar, “Tashih‑e enteqâdi-ye resâle-ye Tohfe-ye Jalâliyye, tasnif‑e Hakimal-Din Mohammad b. Ali al-Nâmus al-Khwâri,” Ph. D. diss., University of Tehran, 2004. Rudgar also mentions in his article that there are three manuscript copies of the Tohfe-ye Jalâliyye, Qanbar-Ali Rudgar, “Khânedân‑e Zangi-ye Fâryumadi,” Motâle’ât‑e Eslâmi 68 (2007), pp. 163–86. 185 Nakhjavâni, Dastur al-kâteb, I, pp. 63–64.

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Station, and his Status186; c) On the Customs of the Scribes and their Tools187; d) On Mentioning the Time of Writing188; e) On the Place of Writing189; and f) On the Quality of the Tools and the Inkpot.190 After these “borrowed” fasls of Khwâri’s, Nakhjavâni proceeds to the final section of his moqaddame, and we are introduced to yet another textual “borrowing”: the Majma’ al-navâder of Abu’l-Hasan Nezâmi Aruzi Samarqandi, commonly known as the Chahâr maqâle. Nakhjavâni replicates the ten stories (hekâyât), which comprise Nezâmi Aruzi’s “First Discourse on Secretaries.”191 These stories are designed to provide didactic lessons on the importance of secretaries to heads of state. The bulk of these stories relate episodes of Samanid, Buyid, Ghaznavid, Abbasid, and Saljuq history where scribes were involved in writing correspondence and decrees during times of war and stress. Notable personalities in these narratives include Abu’l-Qâsem Eskâfi (the scribe to Nuh b. Mansur Sâmâni and later to Alptegin), Esmâ’il b. Abbâd Kâfi (a Mu’tazilite scholar working under the Buyids), the Ghaznavid minister Ahmad‑e Hasan, the brothers Hasan b. Sahl and Fazl b. Sahl under the Abbasid caliph al-Ma’mun, and Mohammad Abdal-Kâteb (secretary to the Karakhanid ruler Boghrâ Khân in Transoxania). Nakhjavâni uses these excerpts from Nezâmi Aruzi to profile scribal networks with the rise of the Abbasids and gubernatorial Turkic states after the 9 th century, and in doing so, he underscores the importance of Iranian constituencies of viziers and secretaries to the ability of sedentarized Perso-Islamic states to function in the medieval era. The moqaddame is formally terminated with good wishes and blessings for Sheykh Oveys, and Nakhjavâni here proceeds to present the prodigious amount of style sheets that formally make up the Dastur al-kâteb. Nakhjavâni’s initial prefatory remarks and the moqaddame itself make up some 124 printed pages in Alizade’s edition, and as such constitutes 186 Nakhjavâni, Dastur al-kâteb, I, pp. 64–82. 187 Nakhjavâni, Dastur al-kâteb, I, pp. 82–86. 188 Nakhjavâni, Dastur al-kâteb, I, pp. 86–87. 189 Nakhjavâni, Dastur al-kâteb, I, pp. 87–89. 190 Nakhjavâni, Dastur al-kâteb, I, pp. 90–101. 191 Nezâmi Aruzi, Chahâr maqâle, pp. 19–41.

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arguably one of the lengthiest introductory discourses ever written for Persian enshâ’. There are a number of features worth considering here. Nakhjavâni’s main text leaves the reader with no doubt that this Jalayerid functionary was intent on systemizing a textual tradition which had been in great flux since the 10 th–11 th centuries. The Dastur al-kâteb, in short, is a bureaucratic leviathan, comprising a wealth of categories, sub-categories, and sub-sub-categories which are designed to bring some sense of rationality to a hybridic and ungainly discursive-textual system. During the 14 th century, Arabo-Islamic tradition and ancient Iranian notions of scribal culture were being merged actively with the more recent customs and practices of the Turco-Mongol world. While Nakhjavâni is principally concerned with a typology of administrative documents, he is also committed to identifying the principals of his surrounding community and presenting them in a societal schematic that makes sense. For instance, he spends considerable energy on the titulature (alqâb) and blessings (ad’iye) for different classes and ranks of contemporary society; the variety of positions and stations of Jalayerid society—starting with kings, sultans, amirs and continuing on to the middle and lower strata—are ranked accordingly, and as such buttresses and supplements contemporary notions of social hierarchy which had been developing for the last three centuries in the Islamic Persianate world.192 Moreover, we have in the Dastur al-kâteb a sweeping inventory which itemizes the names of positions in a wide array of political and religious spaces: courts, administrative offices, mosques, legal courts, markets, madrasas, banquets, chancelleries, small towns, villages, and even khânaqâhs. In this sense, Nakhjavâni’s contribution is unparalleled, and worthy of recognition. Also of note is his commitment to providing Persian translations of nearly all Arabic poetry and maxims. By the second half of the 14 th century, Iranian participation in Turco-Mongol bureaucracy continued to thrive, not to mention the New Persian literary renaissance; his simple prose paraphrasing of Arabic quotes from a wide strata of prophets, philosophers, and 192 See Louise Marlow, Hierarchy and Egalitarianism in Islamic Thought (Cambridge, 1997).

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poets points to the likely reality that his reading audience (young scribes and copyists) were not fully bilingual and were incapable of understanding the intricacies of such flowery Arabic. However, while Nakhjavâni deserves credit for assembling the Dastur al-kâteb, we nonetheless have to acknowledge that his lengthy preface is—in essence—a cobbling together of three previous significant epistolographic-scribal works: the Chahâr maqâle, the Rowzat al-kottâb va hadiqat al-albâb, and the Tohfe-ye Jalâliyye. Undoubtedly, modern historiography has profiled the unprecedented nature of the Dastur al-kâteb, and all scholarly treatments (to date) of the epistolographic genre in the medieval era pay homage to Nakhjavâni.193 Be that as it may, Nakhjavâni borrowed extensively from the Tohfe-ye Jalâliyye, not only for his moqaddame but the entirety of his enshâ’ manual, and it is high time that Hakim-al-Din Mohammad Ali al-Nâmus Khwâri be given his proper due and introduced formally to modern historiography.

Tohfe-ye Jalâliyye (ca. 708–716/1308–1316) by Hakim-alDin Mohammad b. Ali al-Nâmus Khwâri194 Khwâri mentions in his prefatory remarks that he had been commissioned to compile this enshâ’ manual—the Tohfe-ye Jalâliyye— on behalf of a vizier named Jalâl-al-Din Abu-Yazid b. Vajih-al-Din 193 Lambton, Continuity and Change, pp. 371–72; Ali-Akbar Ahmadi Dârâni and Akram Harâtiyân, “Dastur al-kâteb fi ta’yin al-marâteb,” Âyine-ye Mirâth 6/2 (Summer, 2008), New Series, pp. 219–33; Abbâs-Qoli Ghaffâri Fard, “Dastur al-kâteb fi ta’yin al-marâteb,” Ketâb‑e mâh—târikh va jogrâfiyâ 5 (2002), pp. 50–52; David Morgan, “Dastur al-kāteb,” in EIr, VII, pp. 113–14; idem, “The ‘Great Yāsā of Chingiz Khān’ and Mongol Law in the Īlkhānate,” BSOAS 49 (1986), pp. 163–76, esp. 174–76; Roemer, “Inshā’,” in EI2, III, pp. 1241–44; Fath-Allâh Mojtabâ’i, “Correspondence ii: In Islamic Persia,” in EIr, VI, pp. 290–93; Anne Broadbridge, Kingship and Ideology in the Islamic and Mongol Worlds (Cambridge, 2008), p. 163; George Lane, Daily Life in the Mongol Age (Westport, Conn., 2006), p. 224; Islam, A Calendar of Documents on Indo-Persian Relations (1500–1750), I, p. 4, pp. 9–10. 194 This work is currently in manuscript form, and comprises ff. 3 b –109 a of a collection of treatises on enshâ’ in the Tübingen Library, Adabiyat 194/2. A

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Zangi b. Tâher Fâryumadi.195 Ezz-al-Din Tâher Fâryumadi (d. 668/1270) was a prominent scholar-bureaucrat who had served as vizier to Khorasan under the Mongol ruler Abaqa (d. 680/1282)196; his son Vajih-al-Din Zangi not only inherited his position as a vizier, but appears to have continued his father’s sponsorship of the famous Mongol poet of scurrilous verses, Pur-Bahā’ Jâmi (b. ca. 683/1284?).197 Indeed, as Qanbar-Ali Rudgar has demonstrated, Ezz-al-Din Tâher had six sons who went on to occupy different posts of prominence in the Mongol Ilkhanid state.198 Jalâl-al-Din was arguably the lesser known of Ezz-al-Din’s descendants but he would have been active as a vizier—somewhere—during the heyday of Rashid-al-Din Fazl-Allâh Hamadâni.199 According to Rudgar, our epistolographer Khwâri penned three other treatises: the Hadâ’eq al-vathâ’eq (Gardens of Documents),200 the Ketāb al-hekme fi’l-ad’iye va’l-mow’eze le’l-omme (Book of Wisdom on Blessings and Sermons to the Community), and the Rowzat al-motakallemin (Garden of the Scholastics). Indeed, based on a vaqf deed included in Khwâri’s Hadâ’eq al-vathâ’eq, Rudgar has second work, identified as Meftâh al-enshâ’, is by one Râji Mohammad b. Hâjji Hedâyat-Allâh and runs from ff. 109–42. The colophon on fol. 142 a records that this copy was made in Soltaniyye on 20 Jomâda I 741/19 November 1340. One of Khwâri’s other texts, the Hadâ’eq al-vasâ’eq, comprises the remaining thirty folios, and the colophon on fol. 171 b records that it was copied by one Mohammad-Mahmud Abi’l-Ma’âli, possibly in Isfahan, in 737/1336. 195 Khwâri, Tohfe-ye Jalâliyye, fol. 5 b. 196 Mohammad b. Khwâvandshâh Mirkhwând, Rowzat al-safâ, ed. Abbâs Zaryâb (6 vols. in 2, Tehran, 1994), V, p. 913, comments how Vajih-al-Din Zangi had been responsible for rebuilding Nishâpur on behalf of Abaqa Khân after a particularly devastating earthquake in the region. 197 George Lane, “Pur(-e) Bahā’ Jāmi, Tāj-al-Din,” in EIr, online edition. 198 Rudgar, “Khânadân‑e Zangi-ye Fâryumadi,” pp. 167–72; see also Jean Aubin, Émirs mongols et vizirs persans dans les remous de l’acculturation (Paris, 1995), p. 33. 199 However, Rudgar, “Khânadân‑e Zangi-ye Fâryumadi,” pp. 167–72, also comments how there is no extant evidence of Jalâl-al­Din Abu-Yazid b. Vajih-­a l-Din Zangi’s appointments or activities. Moreover, Rudgar suggests the possibility that Jalâl-al-Din in fact was a brother of Vajih-al-Din and a son of Ezz-al-Din Tâher. 200 This work is part of the Tübingen Library MS Adabiyat 194/2, fols. 142 b –71 b.

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argued convincingly that Khwâri’s patron, the vizier Jalâl-al-Din Abu-Yazid, was also a Shi’ite.201 The Tohfe-ye Jalâliyye clearly functioned as an intermediary text between Abu-Bakr’s Rowzat al-kottâb va hadiqat al-albâb and Nakhjavâni’s later Dastur al-kâteb. There is comparable emphasis on God’s epiphany (tajalli) and the supremacy of reason and language as one of God’s first creations; these ideas are, in turn, buttressed by a recognizable series of quotes from the Qur’an and the Prophet as well as poets like Rumi and Anvari.202 With the marker ammâ ba’d, Khwâri begins an intriguing and profound philosophical rationalization regarding Persian literature of speech and writing. For Khwâri, the power of speech (qovvat‑e notq) is not “imagined” but rather a reflection of God’s Unity. He defends the distinction between external manifestation (tasvir) and internal meaning (ma’ni) with the Arabic testimonial: “I testify from al-Falak al-dâ’er, and work from al-Mathal al-sâ’er,” referring to two important 13 th-century Arabic texts which profiled the relationship between badi’ lafzi (figurae elocutionis) and badi’ ma’navi (figurae sententiae) by the Mu’tazilite scholar Ebn-Abi’l-Hadid (d. 656/1258) and Ziyâ’-al-Din Ebn-al-Athir (d. 637/1239).203 Letters and sounds of speech are clearly heard, but speculation and meaning are hidden; as Alexander the Great stated: “the Pen is one of two tongues,” citing a tradition which the essayist Amr b. Bahr Jâhez had made famous in his Ketâb al-bayân va’l-tabyin (Book of Eloquence and Demonstration).204 It is very likely that Khwâri was also inspired by Khwâje Nasir-al-Din Tusi, who described the formation of letters in very comparable terms in his Paradise of Submission (Rowze-ye taslim).205 Khwâri had at one time likely been inspired by Baghdâdi’s pecuniary and confrontational metaphors, 201 Rudgar, “Khânadân‑e Zangi-ye Fâryumadi,” p. 173. 202 Khwâri, Tohfe-ye Jalâliyye, fols. 3 b –4 a. 203 Khwâri, Tohfe-ye Jalâliyye, fol. 4 b; Van Gelder, Beyond the Line, p. 10. 204 Khwâri, Tohfe-ye Jalâliyye, fol. 4 b; see also Amr b. Bahr Jâhez, Ketâb albayân wa’l-tabyin, ed. A. M. Hârun (4 vols. in 2, Beirut, 1948), I, p. 79. 205 Nasir-al-Din Tusi, Rowzat al-taslim, ed. and tr. S. J. Badakchani as Paradise of Submission: A Medieval Treatise on Ismaili Thought (London, 2005), p. 133.

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and here he draws a bead on courtly sycophants and faux litterateurs with the Arabic expression (which draws on Qur’anic symbolism): “they themselves have no worth, they have no value, no palm-trees and no lotus trees in their valley”; Khwâri adds how “[I] who have no goods to sell should have value in this bazaar and the ability to grow in this garden.”206 He shifts metaphors adroitly in this diatribe: “some excellent grandees” are like keepers of palm-gardens (notarâ’) who throw branches (aghsâni) into the Garden of Enshâ’; they satisfy their palate of reason (mazâq‑e aql) with a tasteless sherbet (sharbat‑e bi-dhowq) and their skulls spin with indecision (bi lâ va na’am).207 For Khwâri, the fundamentals of speech and writing are easily corrupted by power-hungry functionaries who “reveal those foolish words of preceding works and open the door to the most extreme and impossible meanings.”208 Proper speech and writing should strive as close as possible towards God’s first creative act, and its practice is an ars arcana which should be protected from misguided interlopers: “that traveled path was not closed, and [thankfully] that veil of defect, like the unveiling of the hidden realm (kashf al-gheyb), did not occur.”209 The rationale for the Tohfe-ye Jalâliyye supersedes the day-to-day requirements of administration and the quotidian demands of the state: “the proofs of augustness of this greatness and the mental images of conceiving this idea are the same as in Creation, whereby [God’s] breath blew winds of divine favor in those pages … and spread the illustrious spirits of fortune.” While Khwâri was obviously invoking God as his inspiration, there is nonetheless a powerful concept of epiphany being conveyed here. Ebn-al-Arabi was especially committed to analyzing the relationship between speech and writing, but with the added insight that the recitation of the Qur’an was in essence a manifestation of God’s breath (ruh‑e qodsi). Further still, the universe is essentially a theophany of the Divine Essence, an essence that is renewed at every moment with God’s breath, but with no 206 Khwâri, Tohfe-ye Jalâliyye, fol. 4 b. 207 Khwâri, Tohfe-ye Jalâliyye, fol. 5 a. 208 Khwâri, Tohfe-ye Jalâliyye, fol. 5 a. 209 Khwâri, Tohfe-ye Jalâliyye, fol. 5 a.

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sense of repetition.210 In this way, creation is renewed from instant to instant in a succession of theophanies (tajalliyât) that begins with the initial Epiphany in the world of mystery (âlam al-gheyb) and repeats itself instantly in the phenomenal world (âlam al-shahâde).211 Khwâri uses the subsequent section to introduce himself and his dedicatee, Jalâl-al-Din Abu-Yazid b. Vajih-al-Din Zangi b. Tâher Fâryumadi. Jalâl-al-Din is lionized by a line of Arabic poetry from Abu-Bakr Khwârazmi (who in turn had been paying ode to Sâheb b. Abbâd, the great Buyid vizier, Mu’tazilite, and litterateur), but Khwâri is quick to point out that “this [current] text is free of the excrement of takallof and tasallof.”212 He formally presents the name of his treatise, and explains how it has been divided broadly into two sections: the first covers “Scholarly Debates”213, while the second qesm examines “Sample Texts.”214 “Scholarly Debates” in turn is segmented into four chapters (abvâb), and it is these and other appended sections which Nakhjavâni selectively copied to augment his own moqaddame some fifty years later. The first chapter is on explicating the essence of the science of writing: it is the representation, or tasvir, of utterance (al-lafz) with letters of the alphabet; ma’ni stands as the logical arrangement of constituent morphemes to form meaning, and the resulting image (tasvir) is called writing, or ketâbat.215 When this custom was established, namely the arrangement of letters, it was necessary to look at the final cause (ellat‑e ghâ’i), or purpose, of that image. If the purpose is to convey information that is in the mind of the writer (zamir‑e kâteb), then this is called the science of tarassol, thus the utterance (lafz), or manifestation, of rasul (messenger), mursal (sender of news), and 210 This constant renewal of creation was referred to by Ebn-al-Arabi in the Meccan Revelations as tajdid al-khalq fi’l-ânât; see Hirtenstein, The Unlimited Mercifier, p. 161. See also S. H. Nasr, Three Muslim Sages: Avicenna, Suhrawardi, Ibn ʿArabi (Cambridge, Mass., 1964), p. 112. 211 Henry Corbin, Creative Imagination in the Sufism of Ibn ʿArabi, tr. R. Manheim (Princeton, 1969), pp. 187–89. 212 Khwâri, Tohfe-ye Jalâliyye, fol. 5 b. 213 Khwâri, Tohfe-ye Jalâliyye, fols. 6 a–40 a. 214 Khwâri, Tohfe-ye Jalâliyye, fols. 40 a–107 a. 215 Khwâri, Tohfe-ye Jalâliyye, fol. 6 a. See Wolfhart P. Heinrichs, “Lafẓ and Maʿnā,” in EAL, p. 461.

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resâle (communication). If the final cause of that conception is the protection of property according to Shari’a law, then that is called the science of shorut; similarly, protection of property according to the conventions of the state is called the science of estifâ’.216 And the science of writing, which they call enshâ’ al-nathr (composition of prose), is divided into a variety of types, namely epistolography (enshâ’), craft of surveying lands (san’at‑e mesâhat), granting of taxes and crown lands (habâyat‑e amvâl va jonâb), petitions (arz), judicial sentences (sokuk), and court registers (sejellât); however, it is not necessary for the monshi to know accounting (estifâ’), nor should the mostowfi be responsible for epistolography. While Nakhjavâni did not copy the chapter discussed above, he did include Khwâri’s second chapter on explaining the subject of epistolography and accounting.217 Khwâri continues his emphasis in this second chapter on understanding enshâ’ through a metaphysical lens by stating that every science should constitute a subject-matter (mowzu’i), and that we should investigate as to whether the subject-matter in question is closer or farther to the accidents and attributes (avârez va sefât) of the science.218 He presents the analogy (qiyâs) of how the human body is one of the subject matters of the science of medicine; a physician, then, investigates the “accidents” of medicine, in this case health and sickness. Khwâri adds how every science should have subject matter which is made up of opposing elements which are nonetheless interconnected.219 In this sense, the object of the science of enshâ’ is determined according to the essence of the scribe (dhât‑e kâteb). This notion of essence is juxtaposed with the avârez which appear in speech: balâghat (rhetoric), fasâhat (eloquence), etnâb (prolixity), and other 216 Khwâri, Tohfe-ye Jalâliyye, ff. 6 a–b. 217 Nakhjavâni uses the term fasl while Khwâri uses al-bâb. Nakhjavâni, Dastur al-kâteb, I, p. 63; Khwâri, Tohfe-ye Jalâliyye, fol. 6 b. 218 Khwâri, Tohfe-ye Jalâliyye, fol. 6 b; Nakhjavâni, Dastur al-kâteb, I, p. 63. 219 As an example, he talks about how one subject matter of Arabic speech is the science of syntax (sarf ), while another is grammar (nahv); yet from this perspective, grammar can be both declinable (mo’rab) and indeclinable (mabni), while syntax is mutable and can change on the basis of conditions and context.

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rhetorical devices like saj’, tajnis, tarsi’, and este’âre.220 He explains in comparable terms how wealth (mâl) is the subject matter in the science of accounting.221 Khwâri concludes this particular chapter with an unprecedented perspective, which Nakhjavâni chose not to include in his later Dastur al-kâteb. Khwâri states that knowledge can be obtained with regard to the “mystery of these words” (serr‑e in kalemât) through the “craft of logic” (senâ’at‑e manteq); on this matter, however, he observes how it was said that Bahla Hendavi “looked into the craft of logic from the perspective of artifice and exaggeration, and not from the perspective of objection and general curiosity.”222 Bahla Hendavi, also referred to as Sâleh b. Bahla Hendavi, is a mysterious figure believed to have been part of a coterie of Indian physicians who had been sponsored by the Barmakids in the court of al-Ma’mun. Jâhez reported a tradition that Bahla Hendavi circulated a Sanskrit text on rhetoric in the Abbasid court which impressed Me’mâr b. al-Ash’ath.223 The third chapter on “the nobility of the science of enshâ’ and the sublime qualities of the science of accounting” is, like the above quotation from Bahla Hendavi and earlier sections, not replicated by Nakhjavâni. This discretion on the part of Nakhjavâni is likely on account of the strong Avicennan flavor provided by Khwâri. He begins with an Arabic blessing: “May God make things succeed for you in a way God likes and agrees upon,” positing subsequently that tarassol can be either a noble science (sharaf‑e elm) or a noble subject-matter (sharaf‑e mowzu’); moreover, “the honor of each science is either in the subject-matter, or in the strength of its proofs, 220 Khwâri, Tohfe-ye Jalâliyye, fol. 6 b; Nakhjavâni, Dastur al-kâteb, I, p. 64. 221 Târi is understood as an essence, while accidents include collecting taxes (jam’‑e kharâj), counterfeit (taghyir), money changing (tabdil), making octangular (tathmin), currency conversion (tasrif ), superfluities (fâzel), remainders (bâqi), and other transactions; he also adds that the subject-matter of the science of juridical sentencing should be wealth. Khwâri, Tohfe-ye Jalâliyye, fol. 7 a ; Nakhjavâni, Dastur al-kâteb, I, p. 64. 222 Khwâri, Tohfe-ye Jalâliyye, fol. 7 a. 223 Mohammad Ghofuri, “Ta’âthir‑e elmi-farhangi-ye Hend dar dânesh‑e mosalmânân dar sadde-hâ-ye nokhostin‑e Eslâmi,” Târikh-e Eslâm 32 (2007), pp. 130–31.

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or in both.”224 Where Khwâri may have first encountered this particular argument is not clear but Ghazâli spoke of science in such terms in Book 1 (Book of Knowledge) of the Ehyâ’225; Khwâri may have also borrowed these sentences from the prefatory remarks of a 13 th-century scientific astronomical text, namely the Ketâb alhey’at (also known as Elm al-falak al-Arabi) by Mo’ayyad-al-Din Ordi.226 Ordi was a Kurdish astronomer who had worked closely with Khwâje Nasir-al-Din Tusi at the scientific center at Marâghe under the early Ilkhanid Mongols, and his Ketâb al-hey’at was a key scientific text to emerge from this period.227 Either way, what follows from Khwâri is a passionate defense of science, and the interdependence of reason and speech in understanding God’s creation. Moreover, his emphasis on the “essence” (mâhiyat) or what Ebn-Sinâ described as the “whatness” of an object, is reflective of a larger debate about conception (tasavvor) and assent (tasdiq) which had been shaping the Islamic intellectual world since the 10 th century.228 Ebn-Sinâ uses terms like takhyil (imaginative representation) and mohâkâh (imitation) to identify mimesis with “image-making,” whereby images and imitations are identified with poetic discourse and passionate rhetoric because such images are not limited and conceivably indefinite.229 Khwâri argues how elm‑e kalâm is “the most noble of sciences,” and it is for the reason that one of its “subject-matters” (mowzu’ât) is “the Necessary Being” (vâjeb al-vojud) who liberally grants good deeds and generosity. This is directly inspired by the debates Ebn-Sinâ popularized ­earlier regarding God 224 Khwâri, Tohfe-ye Jalâliyye, fol. 7 a. 225 Nabih Amin Faris (ed. and tr.), The Book of Knowledge: Being a Translation with Notes of ‘Kitab al-ʿ ilm’ of al-Ghazzali’s ‘Ihya’ ʿUlum al-Din’ (New Delhi, 1962), p. 130. 226 Mo’ayyad-al-Din Ordi, Elm al-falak al-Arabi, ed. George Saliba (Beirut, 1990), p. 25. 227 Mohammad Khottâbi, Mowsu’at al-torâth al-fekri al-Arabi al-Eslâmi (Beirut, 1998), pp. 716–17. 228 Black, Logic and Aristotle’s ‘Rhetoric’ and ‘Poetics’ in Medieval Arabic Philosophy, p. 72. 229 Ismail Dahiyat, Avicenna’s ‘Commentary on the Poetics of Aristotle’: A Critical Study with an Annotated Translation of the Text (Leiden, 1974), p. 41.

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and his status as the Necessary Being in His essence and, accordingly, the Necessary Being in His knowledge, His will, and His act.230 Khwâri suggests that “a science can be designated a different type of science altogether when presented with the corroboration of proofs and an excess of impartial exigencies.”231 Khwâri is invoking here the Avicennan notion that knowledge can share the same ontological space as a category, but draw on different, but not necessarily competing, sources; namely: divinity and reason. The elm‑e kalâm, and here Khwâri positions traditional “theology” alongside the science of “speech,” is constructed as among the “most excellently ranked and noble of subject-matters,” in the same way that medicine (tebb) and veterinary practice (beytara) are close to one another in the application of evidence and proof. Khwâri adds how the goods of the druggist (attâr) and the veterinarian (beytâr) are sold in the same bazaar at the same tariff, and here he quotes the Arabic phrase “one day, they go to [the stall] of Attâr, another day they go to [the stall] of Beytâr;” this, in fact, is a subtle scholarly reference to two contemporaneous pharmacologists who had dominated scientific discourse in Khwâri’s day.232 In addition to writing a commentary on Dioscorides’ Materia medica entitled the Tafsir ketâb Deyusquridus, Ebn-al-Beytâr (from al-Andalus) was probably most famous for his own work on pharmacology and dietetics, the Ketâb al-jâme’ le-mofradât al-adviye va’l-ajdiye.233 The attâr here is undoubtedly meant to be Dâvud b. Abi-Nasr Kuhin-al-Attâr Esrâ’ili (f. 658/1260), a prominent pharmacologist (a Jew, or a recent convert to Islam) whose Ketâb al-dokkân—rhetorically alluded to above—was written in the later decades of the 13 th century.234 These scientific allusions to medicine and veterinary science are reinforced with several lines of successive poetry from Anvari’s 230 Mehdi Ha’iri Yazdi, The Principles of Epistemology in Islamic Philosophy (Albany, 1992), p. 20. 231 Khwâri, Tohfe-ye Jalâliyye, fol. 7 a. 232 Oliver Kahl, Sabur ibn Sahl: The Small Dispensatory, Translated from the Arabic Together with a Study and Glossaries (Leiden, 2003), p. 29. 233 Manfred Ullmann, Die Medizin im Islam (Leiden, 1970), pp. 280–83. 234 Ullmann, Die medizin im Islam, pp. 309–10.

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divân and al-Varâvini’s Aesopic Marzbân-nâme.235 The Tohfe-ye Jalâliyye argues that the fundamental importance of speech (bayân) in Creation naturally privileges those in society who are capable of understanding and of sophisticated analysis. In blunt terms, Khwâri states: “If it weren’t for speech, the tongue (where speech appears) and the heart (which is the inspiration for speech) would be fleshy (lahmi) and bloody (dami) organs.”236 The sustained analogy between the science of enshâ’ and medicine is undoubtedly deliberate. Ebn-Sinâ, and the generations of scientists who followed him in the 12 th–13 th centuries were, among other things, preoccupied with the defense of science and rational inquiry against traditional, faith-based arguments which stridently posited that subjects like rhetoric could not be understood through the reason-based paradigms established by foreign pagans like Aristotle and Plato.237 The reference here to medicine, as well as medical theorists like Ebn-al-Beytâr and Kuhin-al-Attâr, were also reflective of the ongoing conflict between promoters of Galenic and Hippocratic medicine and religious scholars who profiled the superiority of folkloric healing which was, in turn, sustained by Prophetic traditions (al-tebb al-nabavi).238 As noted, many of the intellectual elite of the Islamic world during the medieval era resented and disparaged the foreign “pagan” nature of philosophy and rhetoric; other constituencies (occasionally in concert with the ruling elite) tried to reconcile the Aristotelian world with the Islamic faith. An excellent example of the latter was Ebn-Sinâ’s commentary on Aristotle’s Rhetoric, the Ketâb al-majmu’ ow alhekme al-aruziyye fi ma’âni ketâb Rituriqâ (Book of Collections, 235 Khwâri, Tohfe-ye Jalâliyye, fol. 7 a ; Anvari, Divân‑e Anvari, II, p. 286; Varâvini, Marzbân-nâme, I, p. 342. 236 Khwâri, Tohfe-ye Jalâliyye, fol. 7 b. 237 It should be noted that pre-Avicennan scientific discourse was obviously well in play by the 9 th –10 th centuries. For an interesting perspective on non-Abbasid, “eastern” patronage of scientific texts, see Živa Vesel, “Textes et lieux: l’apport des dynasties mineures de l’Iran oriental a l’historie des sciences,” in F. Richard and M. Szuppe, eds., Écrit et culture en Asie centrale et dans le monde Turco-Iranien, Xe –XIXe siecles (Paris, 2009), pp. 147–64. 238 Peter E. Pormann and Emilie Savage-Smith, Medieval Islamic Medicine (Washington, D.C., 2007), pp. 9–12.

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Or Wise Offerings on the Meaning of the Rhetorica), of which there is an edition and more recently a translation.239 Khwâri’s Avicennan framework of analysis continues in his fourth chapter on the division of epistolography according to the classification of four causes. Again, Nakhjavâni chose not to include this chapter in his replication of the Tohfe-ye Jalâliyye. Khwâri uses the vocabulary here and in further elaborate taxonomies in this treatise, which reflects a philosophical bent consistent with metaphysical language which dates back to Late Antiquity.240 Khwâri stipulates that everything in existence is in need of four “causes” (elal), and he employs the common analogy of how one builds a chair (he in fact uses throne, or takht): the efficient cause (ellat‑e fâ’eli) is the carpenter, the material cause ellat‑e mâddiyye) is wood, the formal cause (ellat‑e suri) is the purpose, and the final cause (ellat‑e ghâ’i) is the ruler’s ascension to the throne.241 Producing a letter is the same, and it is well corroborated that writing has four causes. The efficient cause is the writer (kâteb), while the material cause are the words (kalâm) themselves; the formal cause is the arrangement and structure (tarkib va tartib) of the letter, and the final cause is the writing of the letter in question. The review of enshâ’ material thus far in this chapter supports Khwâri’s own subsequent claim that “until now, not one person has assailed and besieged this art in this [philosophical] manner.”242 What follows for several folios is a cause-by-cause presentation of Khwâri’s metaphysical treatment of writing, with reference to and replication of 239 Ebn-Sinâ, Ketâb al-majmu’ ow al-hekme al-arudiyye fi ma’âni ketâb Rituriqâ, ed. Salim Salim (Cairo, 1950). For the translation, see Lahcen E. Ezzaher, “Avicenna’s Book of Rhetoric: An English Translation of Avicenna’s Commentary on Aristotle’s Rhetoric,” Advances in the History of Rhetoric 11/12 (2009), pp. 133–58. 240 Riad, Studies in the Syriac Preface, p. 182; see also Adam H. Becker, Fear of God and the Beginning of Wisdom: The School of Nisibis and Christian Scholastic Culture in Late Antique Mesopotamia (Philadelphia, 2006), pp. 101–4. 241 Tusi describes man’s being with the exact same terms in Paradise of Submission: Nasir al-Din Tusi, Paradise of Submission, p. 168; Khwâri, Tohfe-ye Jalâliyye, fol. 8 a. 242 Khwâri, Tohfe-ye Jalâliyye, fol. 8 b.

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various supporting historical texts. Nakhjavâni eschews this eminently more theoretical classification in his own work, and presents his remaining fasls in much more simple terms: on the role of the scribe, the tools of the scribe, the idealized surroundings of the scribe, etc. Khwâri introduces the first section of chapter four on the “efficient cause” in writing, in this case referring to the scribe. This fasl is a determined extolling and profiling of the scribe’s role in human history, spanning both the pre-Islamic and Islamic periods. Khwâri begins with the ancient kings of Iran, describing how they left the divân, or administration, in the hands of capable ones, who worked on astrology, medicine, accounting, and engineering, and thus the kings could concentrate on building their great works. Here, he cites the example of the pre-Islamic Sassanian rulers drawn from the Ahd-nâme-ye Ardashir‑e Bâbak, using a letter attributed to Ardashir (anachronistically) applauding the jurisprudents (faqihs) who protected the pale of Islam (bayzat al-Eslâm) and promoted the state and those farmers who cultivated lands around the cities, and admonishing them to reduce taxes on the peasantry.243 Nakhjavâni includes the Arabic version as well as a Persian summary of the text.244 The importance of the pre-Islamic Iranian legacy is continued with an excerpt from the Oyun al-akhbâr by Abu AbdAllâh Mohammad b. Moslem b. Qoteybe, who describes how he had read about the importance of the chief Sasanian priest—the môbad‑e môbadân—and that it was understood how writers in the Iranian court were the eyes, ears, and tongues of the kings, and that there is no greater happiness than being one of the viziers to a king.245 Qoteybe waxes on the interdependence of the body (jasad) and the soul (jân), and for him this an allegory for the relationship between writers and viziers: neither can exist without the other. In a rare instance of originality, Nakhjavâni added to this section by introducing another authority, the eminent master (“Sheykh Bozorgvâr”) Abu-Ali Fârmadhi, who was a reputed Sufi scholar and 243 Khwâri, Tohfe-ye Jalâliyye, fol. 9 a. 244 Nakhjavâni, Dastur al-kâteb, I, pp. 66–67. 245 Khwâri, Tohfe-ye Jalâliyye, fols. 9 a–9 b.

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teacher of Ghazâli. In one of Fârmadhi’s books, says Nakhjavâni, there is a copy of an investiture letter (ahd-nâme) regarding the relations and genealogies of the companion Salmân Fâresi, or Salmân the Pure, which had been sent to Persia.246 This letter was dictated by the Prophet, written by Ali, and witnessed by Abu-Bakr and Othmân, but Nakhjavâni relates how he himself had found another ahd-nâme which had been written to Hoyey b. Akhtab, the governor of Khaybar. Likewise, this was in the hand of Ali, and Nakhjavâni describes how these two texts are the greatest and most glorious writings ever written by Ali.247 Khwâri (and Nakhjavâni) discuss the impact of Ali on writing at great length and narrate how the 6 th Imam Ja’far al-Sâdeq in turn reported that Ali had written nine kalemes (in this sense, formulaic benedictions) which became popular among Shi’ites; Khwâri quotes these kalemes—in Arabic, while Nakhjavâni also provides Persian translation—on the basis of the writings of Ahmad b. Mohammad Meydâni-Nishâpuri, the 12 th century collector and scholar of Arabic and Persian proverbs.248 For Khwâri, the role of the scribe was indeed profound. “All of the Abbasid viziers,” he writes, “had been scribes,”249 and in a subsequent section he describes how there were many instances where the “lords of writing” (arbâb‑e ketâbat) were promoted to the rank of the caliph. We do, however, find here some textual, possibly confessional, conflict between Khwâri and Nakhjavâni; Khwâri mentions how both Othmân and Abu-Bakr had been scribes of the Prophet,250 but Nakhjavâni replaces Abu-Bakr with Ali.251 While Nakhjavâni continues to describe how Ali and Othmân had gone on to be elected as khalifas, Khwâri describes independently how he had himself seen a letter written by Abu-Bakr to Ali in al-Ijâz fi’le’ jâz, likely a reference to Abd-al-Malek Tha’âlebi’s (d. 430/1038) al-Ijâz va’l-e’ jâz, of which parts were understood as being 246 Nakhjavâni, Dastur al-kâteb, I, pp. 70–72. 247 Nakhjavâni, Dastur al-kâteb, I, p. 71. 248 Khwâri, Tohfe-ye Jalâliyye, fol. 10 a; Nakhjavâni, Dastur al-kâteb, I, pp. 73–75. 249 Khwâri, Tohfe-ye Jalâliyye, fol. 9 b. 250 Khwâri, Tohfe-ye Jalâliyye, fol. 10 a. 251 Nakhjavâni, Dastur al-kâteb, I, p. 76.

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supplemental commentaries on Ali’s Nahj al-balâghe.252 Khwâri and Nakhjavâni provide then a lengthy list of notable scribes who went on to occupy high offices in the Omayyad and Abbasid states.253 This prosoprographic history continues into the Abbasid period, noting the power and influence of individuals like Abdal-Hamid b. Yahyâ, Abd-Allâh Ebn-al-Moqaffa’ (with particular mention by Khwâri of the Adab al-kabir as unparalleled), Khâled b. Barmak, Abu-Abd-Allâh, and Yunos b. Farve, the scribe to the caliphal candidate Isâ b. Musâ.254 Interestingly, Nakhjavâni—but not Khwâri—profiles whom he believes to be two of the most important scribes in Islamic history: the brothers Ostâd Sayyed Rezâ Musavi and Sayyed Mortazâ, both prominent writers and Shi’ite scholars of the 10 th-century Buyid state.255 Nakhjavâni’s account gives a detailed description of these two Shi’ite notables: They held sizeable eqtâs, or land assignments, and rivaled the power of the military amirs. Khwâri and Nakhjavâni conclude their respective prosopographies, praising at length the power, ability, and prescience of these progenitors of Arabic prose and epistolography. The Tohfe-ye Jalâliyye adds some further lines of commentary, not replicated by Nakhjavâni, describing how it is his sincere wish for the excellence of this craft (san’at) to return to its original form—as practiced by the families of the Sasanians and the Samanids—in order that this suffering society could be healed with proper writing.256 Without the science of writing, Khwâri argues, the Qur’an, the stories of the companions, and the posts (mavâqef) and stations (maqâmât) of the Mohâjerun and the Ansâr would never have been known. He summarizes with an epiphanic reference, likely inspired by his active reasoning on theosophist such as Ebn-alArabi: “you hear speech from Adam, Noah, the composition of the 252 Khwâri, Tohfe-ye Jalâliyye, fol. 10 a. See Bilal Orfali, “The Works of Abū Manṣur al-Thaʿālibī,” pp. 284–85. 253 Khwâri, Tohfe-ye Jalâliyye, fols. 10 b-11 b; Nakhjavâni, Dastur al-kâteb, I, pp. 76–78. 254 Khwâri, Tohfe-ye Jalâliyye, fol. 11 b; Nakhjavâni, Dastur al-kâteb, I, pp. 79–80. 255 Nakhjavâni, Dastur al-kâteb, I, pp. 80–81. 256 Khwâri, Tohfe-ye Jalâliyye, ff. 11 b –12 a.

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body and the exhale of breath.”257 This entire section—designed to extol the role of the scribe and vizier in nominal Islamic society—is formally concluded with a line of poetry from Hariri’s Maqâmât: “Right is the master who is perfectly created [by God]—If it were not for my fear of God, I would have said ‘may His power be everlasting’.”258 Khwâri’s remaining chapters—on ellat‑e mâddiyye259, ellat‑e suri260, and ellat‑e ghâ’i261—make up the remainder262 of the first section (“Scholarly Debates”) of the Tohfe-ye Jalâliyye, before the second section (“Sample Texts”) begins. Thus, the Mongol era witnessed profound re-orientations in the realm of enshâ’ and epistolography. I would argue that the systemization provided by Nakhjavâni in his Dastur al-kâteb fi ta’yin al-marâteb and his hierarchical presentation of offices, ranks, and societal levels were reflective of the increased presence of a fused discourse on political ethics, selected from the Hellenistic world, shaped by the pre-Islamic Pahlavi landscape, and of course framed by Islamic legalism and orthodoxy, which had been emerging in the central Islamic lands since the 9 th century. The need to organize and systemize society in rational terms was a manifestation of the greater debate taking place in the intellectual world, whereby proponents of reason and rational inquiry were pushing back and forth with traditionalists who were incapable of accepting knowledge as anything other than divinely originated. In this way, Khwâri and his Tohfe-ye Jalâliyye stands shoulder-to-shoulder with the 257 Khwâri, Tohfe-ye Jalâliyye, fol. 12 a. 258 See Abu-Mohammad Qâsem b. Ali Hariri, Maqâmât al-Hariri, ed. I. Sabâ (Beirut, 1965), p. 31; Khwâri, Tohfe-ye Jalâliyye, fol. 12 a. The remaining sections (fasls) discuss various technical details associated with the timing and condition of writing, books and the use of writing instruments: Khwâri, Tohfe-ye Jalâliyye, fols. 12 a–14 a ; Nakhjavâni, Dastur al-kâteb, I, pp. 82–90. 259 Starting on fol. 18 b, there are 10 detailed sections in relation to kalâm. See Khwâri, Tohfe-ye Jalâliyye, fols. 18 b –19 a. 260 This third fasl is in turn divided into 6 asls: 1) the name of God; 2) khetâb; 3) alqâb; 4) do’ â; 5) hekâyat; 6) esm‑e kâteb; Khwâri, Tohfe-ye Jalâliyye, fols.  19 b –34 b. 261 Khwâri, Tohfe-ye Jalâliyye, ff. 35 b –40 a. 262 This present contribution will not address the specifics of these chapters, and they remain as a subject for future inquiry.

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immediately preceding generations of Ebn-Sinâ and Nasir-al-Din Tusi. His lionizing of the pre-Islamic Iranian age, and his elaborate defense of speech and writing as “subject-matter” (mowzu’) and “science” (elm) operates in a metaphysical domain, and not exclusively in one framed by divine revelation and scriptural authority.

4. Retrenchment and Replication: The Timurid Period (1400–1500)263 The successors of Timur emerged as the principal custodians of Persianate culture in the 15 th century, and the sponsorship of literati, poets, scholars, artists, and architects by princely and imperial rulers like Bâysonghur, Shâhrokh, and Soltân-Hoseyn Bâyqarâ allowed Khorasan to reassume the prominence it once enjoyed under the Ghaznavids and Saljuqs. These Turkic rulers, themselves scions of a semi-nomadic tribe from the Farghana valley, continued the medieval precedent put in motion by the Saljuqs and Mongols, and adopted Persian language and culture towards an overall synthesis of ancient Iranian notions of absolute kingship, Turco-Mongol conceptions of corporate sovereignty, and the relatively well-formed orthodoxy and legalism of Arabo-Islamic culture. While the Timurid empire had been traumatized by an enduring civil war (807–14/1405–11) after the death of Timur, the reigns of Shâhrokh (814–50/1411–47) and Soltân-Hoseyn Bâyqarâ (873–912/1469–1506) witnessed a socio-economic revival in Khorasan, Khvarazm, and Central Asia. Undoubtedly, the basis for this resurgence was the Timurid promotion of sustained agricultural activity in and around cities, towns, and villages; in addition 263 Enshâ’ sources for the Timurid period abound, but for purposes of concision I will be discussing only three of them. For other enshâ’ sources, see Hans Robert Roemer’s treatment of Marvarid’s Sharaf-nâme in Staatsschreiben der Timuridenzeit: das ‘Sharaf-nâma’ des ʿAbdallâh Marwarid in kritischer Auswertung (Wiesbaden, 1952). For lesser-known enshâ’ works still in manuscript form, see Dâneshpazhuh, “Dabiri va nevisandagi,” pp. 168–70.

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to initiating and supporting elaborate hydrological systems, the Timurids consciously developed endowment tools (vaqf ) and tax systems which facilitated the development of a strong agrarian hinterland. We know, thanks to the work of Maria Subtelny, that Timurid princes saw sedentary-agrarian values as inherently connected with the principles of proper imperial governance. While the “Circle of Justice”—a pre-Islamic Sasanian concept whereby a perfect king is ultimately defined by his ability to support and protect his subject peasant population—had been revived and (to some extent) popularized by Nezâm-al-Molk during the Saljuq period, it was the Timurids who implemented these ideological precepts most consistently during the medieval period.264 Indeed, Persian poets often employed rhetorical devices to liken a successful kingdom to a teeming garden being tended to by a conscientious king-cum-gardener.265 Agrarian principles and technical expertise were so naturally necessary to imperial projects that Qâsem b. Yusof Abu-Nasri compiled and presented his Ershâd al-zerâ’a (Guidance on Agriculture) in 921/1515, and as such this text was “construed as a mirror for princes that focused exclusively on agriculture as the main prerequisite for the establishment of a stable political state.”266 With these impulses towards an agrarian identity, the Timurids adopted wholesale the Perso-Islamic Weltanshauung and its privileging of hierarchical societal systems, bureaucratic sophistication, poetic values, scholarly standards, and of course courtly extravagance. Persian literature was certainly not different, and historians and appropriate specialists have long noted the Timurid penchant for prose, prosody, and rhetoric.267 With the ongoing valency of 264 Maria Subtelny, Timurids in Transition: Turko-Persian Politics and Acculturation in Medieval Iran (Leiden, 2007), pp. 106–7. 265 Subtelny, Timurids in Transition, p. 107. 266 Subtelny, Timurids in Transition, p. 114. Also see Maria Subtelny, “A Medieval Persian Agricultural Manual in Context: The Irshâd al-zirâʿa in Late Timurid and Early Safavid Khorasan,” Studia Iranica 22/2 (1993) pp. 167–217. 267 Marta Simidchieva, “Imitation and Innovation in Timurid Poetics: Kâshifi’s Badâʿ i al-afkâr and its Predecessors, al-Muʿ jam and Hadâ’iq al-sihr,” IrSt 36/4 (2003), pp. 509–30; Maria Subtelny, “A Taste for the Intricate: The

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the polymath, or “scholar-bureaucrat” in this Perso-Islamic society, highly placed administrators in the Timurid court operated in a number of prose and poetic traditions with confidence. In this way, we have a number of enshâ’ manuals and collections that were produced by well-known and well-situated litterateurs, historians, and religious scholars across Timurid society.

Resâle-ye qavânin by Mo’in-al-Din Mohammad Zamchi Esfezâri (d. 915/1510)268 One such individual was Mo’in-al-Din Mohammad Zamchi Esfezâri, who joined Timurid ranks as a young man in his twenties and acted as a secretary in the service of Majd-al-Din Mohammad Khwâfi, himself a notable in the court of Soltân-Hoseyn Bâyqarâ.269 In 895/1490, his patron passed away, and Esfezâri switched to the patronage of Qevâm-al-Din Nezâm-al-Molk Khwâfi, who had been vizier since the early 1470 s.270 According to the Majâles al-nafâ’es Persian Poetry of the Late Timurid Period,” ZDMG 136/1 (1986), pp. 56– 79; idem, “Scenes from the Literary Life of Tīmūrid Herat,” in R. M. Savory and D. A. Agius, eds., Logos Islamikos: Studia Islamica in Honorem Georgii Michaelis Wickens (Toronto, 1984), pp. 137–55; Ehsan Yarshater, “Persian Poetry in the Timurid and Safavid Period, 14 th –18 th Centuries,” in CHIr, VI, pp. 965–94; idem, She’r‑e Fârsi dar ahd‑e Shâhrokh (Tehran, 1955), Maria Szuppe, “Historiography v. Timurid Period,” in EIr, XII, pp. 356–63; idem, “Le Khorassan aux XIVe –XVIe siècles: la littérature savante comme expression de l’unité avec la Transoxiane,” in L. Cirillo, ed., La Persia e l’Asia Centrale de Alessandro Magno al X secolo (Rome, 1996), pp. 149– 64; Chad Lingwood, “Jami’s Salaman va Absal: Political Statements and Mystical Advice Addressed to the Aq Qoyunlu Court of Sultan Yaʿqub (d. 896/1490),” IrSt 44/2 (2011), pp. 175–91. 268 This work has four manuscript copies: MS Patna, Khuda Bakhsh Library, no. 1098/xxxiv (contains only the introduction), MS London, The British Library, India and Islamic Collection, no. 2082; MS Mashhad, Adabiyyât no. 216; and MS Tehran, Ketâbkhâne-ye Majles‑e Senâ, no. 318. This chapter works with the Tehran and Patna copies (henceforth Teh. and Pat.). 269 Maria Subtelny, “Esfezāri, Moʿin al-Din Mohammad Zamchi,” EIr, VIII, p. 595. 270 Maria Subtelny, “Centralizing Reform and its Opponents in the Late Timurid Period,” IrSt 21/1–2 (1988), p. 130.

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by Mir Ali Shir Navâ’i, his epistolary style was undervalued by the leading Timurid monshi, Abd-al-Vâse’ Nezâmi (to be discussed after Esfezâri);271 Khwândamir provides a curt biographical note in the Habib al-siyar, noting that he was a minor poet who also penned a geographical history of Herat and a collection of enshâ’.272 The dibâche to his Resâle-ye qavânin (Treatise of Regulations)273 bears no rubric and begins with poetry extolling God and his creation of the universe through the metaphors of pen, paper, and writing. Indeed, the prose which follows is unflinchingly committed to this particular rhetorical device. Several Qur’anic verses are introduced in chancellery terms, such as “He is the Artisan who is a monshi who demonstrates his decrees by writing the two letters kâf and nun on the page of ‘verily, when He intends a thing, His command is ‘be and it is’ (36:82)”; in a parallel sense, he writes how “He is the scribe whose decree shares news from the alef of the pen and the nun of the word which takes shape with ‘Nun. By the pen and the [record] which [men] write’ (68:1).”274 The ensuing poetry (nazm) combines this chancellery motif with a discernible sense of theosophy: The stars and the orbiting of the sun are His thread/ Each of the two worlds is one decree from His pen But they come together with the nib of His pen of dominion/ Each of the two worlds is like the two-tongued pen The celestial of celestials shows His domination/ The king of kings is a copy of His written decree275

Esfezâri continues to demonstrate his Sufi inclination with such chancellery metaphors by talking about God’s knowledge (alim) as 271 Subtelny, “Esfezâri,” p. 595. 272 Ghiyâth-al-Din Homâm-al-Din Mohammad Khwândamir, Habib al-siyar fi akhbâr‑e afrâd‑e bashar, ed. M. Dabir-Siyâqi (4 vols., Tehran, 1954), III, p. 348. 273 Subtelny, “Esfezâri,” p. 596, notes that the title of his enshâ’ work has not consistently been referred to as such in the different manuscripts (labeled simply as the enshâ’ or tarassol of Esfezâri). 274 Esfezâri, Resâle-ye qavânin, fols. 1 b –2 a (Teh.), fol. 1 b (Pat.). 275 Esfezâri, Resâle-ye qavânin, fol. 2 a (Teh.), fol. 1 b (Pat.).

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“a Pen of those writers [who work] in the workshop of creation.”276 This is arguably comparable to the dibâche in the Rowzat al-kottâb va hadiqat al-albâb by Abu-Bakr Ebn-al-Zaki some two centuries earlier, who likewise discussed God in qualities through such terms as alimi. In this Ebn-al-Arabi-an fashion, Esfezâri next talks about divine wisdom (hakimi), and states that the most eloquent ones from the square of the gnostics gather together in the place of his Gnosis;277 this is followed by a line of poetry which echoes the bestial analogy (“the eye of the snake”) regarding the innate lust of mankind signaled earlier by al-Qonavi, Attâr, and other literary Sufis. The theosophical language continues as Esfezâri describes how the First Intellect (aql‑e avval) is the well source of Creation, while also demonstrating the popular convention of seeing the Prophet through a mystical lens: Mohammad is the “sentinel” (shehne) of God’s power who carries a “straight spear” (neyze) as a pen and “a sword” (tigh) lit by the “primordial light” (nur‑e Mohammadi).278 The encomiums for Mohammad continue at some length in this unparalleled amalgamation of Sufi, scribal, and martial terms: “with the two words lam yazâli (eternal)”—which is the universal place of form, meaning, and utterance for all earthly and celestial texts—God commanded [the Prophet Mohammad] that his page of enshâ’ was also the battleground of war against the infidels (ghazâ), and that his pens were a straight spear, a sharpened pen, and a sword, as in the Hadith: ‘I am a prophet with a sword’.”279 With numerous invocations of poetry and rhymed prose—including two beyts of poetry in honor of Mohammad which are borrowed from Nezâmi Ganjavi’s “Praise to Khwâje Kâ’enât”280—Esfezâri continues to display in this section an exaggerated, and quasi-combative, dedication to prophetography that has been hitherto absent in epistolary dibâches appearing in such works as al-Tavassol elâ’l-tarassol, Rowzat al-kottâb va hadiqat al-albâb, and Tohfe-ye Jalâliyye. 276 Esfezâri, Resâle-ye qavânin, fol. 2 a (Teh.), fol. 1 b (Pat.). 277 Esfezâri, Resâle-ye qavânin, fol. 2 a (Teh.), fol. 1 b (Pat.). 278 Esfezâri, Resâle-ye qavânin, fol. 2 b (Teh.); fol. 2 a (Pat.). 279 Esfezâri, Resâle-ye qavânin, fol. 2 b (Teh.); fol. 2 a (Pat.). 280 Esfezâri, Resâle-ye qavânin, fol. 3 a (Teh.); fol. 2 a (Pat.); Nezâmi Ganjavi, Sharaf-nâme, ed. V. Dastgardi (Tehran, 1937), pp. 14–17.

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Esfezâri assumes predictably an autobiographical tone and talks of his early introduction to the rhetorical arts, and his own obsession with strange and wonderful words and the allusions and hidden meanings woven by the past masters of eloquence. In the subsequent discussion of his own epistolary contributions under the sponsorship of Soltân-Hoseyn Bâyqarâ, Esfezâri employs consistent metaphors of place and space (emârât, amsâr, târom‑e chahârom, manzel, boldân, aqâlim‑e âlam, mantaqe). Such an emphasis on locus is not surprising, since Esfezâri was relatively well known for producing a detailed topography and history of the city of Herat, the Rowzat al-jannat fi owsâf madinat Harât, which is organized according to chapters and sections respectively entitled rowze (“garden”) and chaman (“field”).281 Interestingly, he also quotes poetry in this section (with no acknowledgment) from Qâzi Hamid-al-Din Omar b. Mahmud Balkhi (d. 559/1164), who himself penned an ekphrastic poem to his home city of Balkh (Fi owsâf al-Balkh) in his Maqâmât‑e Hamidi.282 Esfezâri also discusses here his master-disciple relationship with the great Sufi poet Abd-al-Rahmân Jâmi, and cites several of his verses.283 We finally turn to Esfezâri’s thoughts on enshâ’ on fol. 9 a of the Tehran copy284 of the Resâle-ye qavânin: “towards the explanation of these pages which has been done according to the path of Tarassol‑e tavassol.”285 It is certainly not surprising that Esfezâri would have invoked the work of Bahâ’-al-Din Baghdâdi, but he lacks Baghdâdi’s sophistication and analysis in regard to the debates about artificial and natural poetry and prose. As will be demonstrated, Esfezâri drew upon a wide array of sources in putting together his dibâche; in a few isolated cases, he refers to his sources, but by and large this work does not rank highly in its 281 Mo’in-al-Din Mohammad Zamchi Esfezâri, Rowzat al-jannat fi owsâf madinat Harât, ed. S. M.K. Emâm (2 vols., Tehran, 1960). 282 See his section entitled Fi owsâf al-Balkh, in Hamid-al-Din Omar b. Mahmud Balkhi, Maqâmât‑e Hamidi, ed. Rezâ Anzâbi-Nezhâd (Tehran, 1993), pp. 161–72. 283 Esfezâri, Resâle-ye qavânin, fols. 7 a-b (Teh.); fol. 3 b –4 a (Pat.). 284 The Patna copy of the introduction concludes on fol. 4 b, and does not provide this section of the moqaddame. 285 Esfezâri, Resâle-ye qavânin, fol. 9 a (Teh).

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originality or consistent exposition on the elm‑e enshâ’. In contrast to previous generations of monshi masters of the Saljuq and Mongol eras, Esfezâri positions his thoughts on the epistolary arts in strong seraphic languagem Moreover, he divides his introduction here (moqaddame) into two fasls, the first being on the “nobility of this noble science” while the second fasl is on the tools and necessities of writing. In the first section, Esfezâri stipulates that one of the “noble requisites” is God’s creation of the pen as stated in a Hadith: “the first thing which God created was the Pen.” He subsequently explains that all affairs of the human world in terms of temporal and sacred matters are adjudicated by the pen and the decrees [written] in the Book.286 This emphasis on the preeminence of scripture, combined with a theosophical strand, reflects what would appear to be the somber, “sober” Sufism associated with Khwâje Ahrâr, Jâmi, and the emerging Naqshbandi Order of Timurid Central Asia.287 Esfezâri argues that the Qur’an and prophetic miracles—age after age, epoch after epoch—are dependent on the “mediation” (vasâ’el) of script and the book. In a repetitive fashion, he highlights the importance of God and the Prophet in bringing writing (ketâbat) into existence, but he does acknowledge offhandedly how writing during “the time of the kings of Iran… was very important for the establishment of their kingdoms.”288 Ali is profiled in prose and verse at length as another formative contributor, but he adds that the “collection of the perfect details of this faultless art was conducted by the Prophet and His family.”289 He picks up the interdependence of writing with prophecy, and directly contravenes the supposition of Khwâri (and to a lesser extent, Nakhjavâni) regarding the role of reason in writing; for Esfezâri, revelation is the “subject-matter” (mowzu’) of this science and he buttresses this with reference to previous revelations which would remain unknowable if not for the creation of writing. In Esfezâri’s estimation, aql (reason) and naql (transmission) are interdependent, and there can be no room for rational thought without acknowledging the 286 Esfezâri, Resâle-ye qavânin, fol. 10 b (Teh). 287 Esfezâri, Resâle-ye qavânin, fol. 10 b (Teh). 288 Esfezâri, Resâle-ye qavânin, fol. 11 a (Teh). 289 Esfezâri, Resâle-ye qavânin, fol. 11 b (Teh).

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importance of revelatory texts and their dissemination. The second fasl—on the tools and necessities of writing—simply describes the quotidian features of the scribal arts (pens, inks, line-spacing, etc.). Esfezâri also discusses the etiquette of writing from the Abbasid period onwards. Here, he introduces what he calls the “heritage of the predecessors” (ma’âther‑e aslâf), and mentions the well-known story of the caliph al-Ma’mun’s proposal and wooing of Burân, the daughter of Hasan b. Sahl, versions of which have been given by Nezâmi Aruzi and others.290 Esfezâri’s condensed account focuses on the first intimate “meeting” of the caliph with Burân: When the consummation of the marriage was interrupted by the sudden onset of her menses (and consequent ritual impurity), the modest maiden aptly recited “The command of God has come, do not seek to hasten it” (Qur’an 16:1), and the quote sank into the foundations of the caliph’s soul. While Nezâmi Aruzi emphasizes how this intensified the caliph’s affection for her, Esfezâri chooses instead to highlight the young woman’s Qur’anic recitation as an example of effective eloquence.291 Esfezâri’s next narrative—again borrowed and redacted from Nezâmi Aruzi (hekâyat‑e avval)—is the story of Eskâfi, the main chancellery official of the Samanid ruler, the Amir Nuh b. Mansur.292 In this parable, Esfezâri recounts how Eskâfi fled the patronage of Nuh b. Mansur (based in Bukhara) to join the court of Alptegin at Herat. When Alptegin later instructed Eskâfi to respond in kind to a particularly incendiary missive from Nuh the Samanid, Eskâfi invoked Qur’an 11:32 (“Oh Noah, you have disputed with us, and you have [greatly] prolonged the dispute with us. Now bring upon us what you have threatened us with, if you are speaking the truth”), adroitly manipulating the name of the Samanid ruler with the historical and prophetic exemplar, Noah, or Nuh.293 The last narrative provided in Esfezâri’s Resâle-ye qavânin 290 Nezâmi Aruzi Samarqandi, Chahâr maqâle, pp. 32–36 (Persian edition). 291 Esfezâri, Resâle-ye qavânin, fol. 12 b (Teh.); Nezâmi Aruzi, Chahâr maqâle, p. 36 (Persian edition). 292 Esfezâri, Resâle-ye qavânin, ff. 12 b –13 a (Teh.); Nezâmi Aruzi, Chahâr maqâle, pp. 22–24 (Persian edition). 293 Esfezâri, Resâle-ye qavânin, ff. 13 a–b (Teh.); Nezâmi Aruzi, Chahâr maqâle, p. 24 (Persian edition).

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is in regard to an epistolary exchange between Mahmud of Ghazna (d. 421/1030) and the Abbasid caliph, al-Qâder-be’llâh (d. 422/1031). This is not borrowed from Chahâr maqâle, but taken rather from Key-Kâvus b. Eskandar’s Qâbus-nâme, specifically his section regarding the importance of the secretarial arts.294 We learn how the caliph had sent a robe of honor (khel’at) and his confirmation of the new titulature for Mahmud as Yamin-al-Dowle and Aminal-melle. Mahmud subsequently demanded control of Samarqand, and al-Qâder-be’llâh responded quickly with a definitive no. In reply, Mahmud compared himself to Abu-Moslem and threatened the caliph and the city of Baghdad with a thousand elephants.295 The caliphal response to the Ghaznavid threat came on a rolled up scroll of “Mansuri paper” (kâghaz‑e Mansuri), and when the court unrolled the missive, the main scribe read aloud the opening words of “In the Name of God, the Merciful and the Compassionate.” However, following this was written simply the letters alef, lam, and mim. For days, the Sultan and his functionaries struggled to make sense of this, but it was a young scholar by the name of AbuBakr Qohestâni who provided the explanation: these letters were in reference to the opening letters of Qur’an 105:1—“Did you not see how your Lord dealt with the men of the elephants?”296 While Esfezâri borrows (without attributing) from the classical Perso-Islamic prose repertoire, it would be fair to say that he cautiously avoided the strong penchant in these writings for the alleged superiority and pivotal contribution of pre-Islamic Iran. Esfezâri’s narratives on scribal culture are culled and presented in such a way as to underscore a deliberate message of orthodoxy and prophetography. The question remains: why would we see such a shift from the earlier broadminded, theo- and philosophical outlooks of his 294 Key-Kâvus b. Eskandar b. Qâbus b. Vashmgir b. Ziyâd Onsur-al-Ma’âli, Qâbus-nâme, ed. Gholâm-Hoseyn Yusofi (Tehran, 1996), pp. 207–15; tr. R. Levy as A Mirror for Princes: The ‘Qābūs nāma’, (New York, 1951), pp. 200–204. 295 Esfezâri, Resâle-ye qavânin, fol. 13 b; Kay-Kavus b. Eskandar, Qâbus-nâme, p. 208, tr. p. 202. A Mirror for Princes, p. 202; Persian edition, p. 208. 296 Esfezâri, Resâle-ye qavânin, ff. 13 b –14 a; Kay-Kavus b. Eskandar, Qâbus-nâme, pp. 208–9, tr. pp. 203–4.

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predecessors? Of course, Esfezâri’s own convictions are certainly in play here, but we wonder if the religio-political landscape of the mid-15 th century Timurid Persianate world is not also worth considering. To some extent, Timur was interested in profiling himself as a divinely sanctioned, Shari’a-endorsing Perso-Islamic ruler, and this program of legitimacy carried over into the 15 th century.297 Shortly after his ascension in 814/1411, Shâhrokh (d. 850/1447) demonstrated his repudiation of the Steppe tradition and his new commitment to Perso-Islamic sedentarized rule by formally abolishing the Turco-Mongolian court of law (yârghu) and “customs of the Töre” (rosum‑e tura). This eschewing of nomadic values went hand-in-hand with the Timurid adoption of a sedentarized view of public and private space that was regulated heavily by a comprehensive system of juridical traditions. The Timurids were nominally Hanafi in their interpretation of the Shari’a, but as Subtelny and Khalidov have argued, the reign of Shâhrokh was witness to a profound dispute among prominent religious intelligentsia. While al-Sayyed al-Sharif al-Jorjâni (d. 816/1413) and his scions had promoted the application of reason and philosophy in their roles as religio-legal plenipotentiaries of the Timurid state, the conservative Sa’d-al-Din Mas’ud Taftâzâni (d. 791/1389) challenged such unsound propensities by emphasizing traditional, authority-based approaches and arguments.298 Fascinatingly, this Jorjâni-Taftâzâni debate was largely based on how to interpret rhetoric (balâghat) in the context of commentaries on Sakkâki’s formative Meftâh al-olum of the early 13 th century. By and large, Taftâzâni stood in line with previous generations of Arabic grammarians and rhetoricians who rejected the notion that limitless imagination (khiyâl) is the dangerous cornerstone of prose and poetry; indeed, literary devices such as saj’ were anathema to Taftâzâni who likened it to the “cooing of pigeons.”299 By examining the curriculum which was endorsed by Shâhrokh for his madrasa complex in Herat, we see “a vindication of al-Taftāzāni and his scholarship [which] indicated that it 297 Michele Bernardini, Mémoire et propagande à l’époque Timouride (Paris, 2008). 298 William Smyth, “Controversy in a Tradition of Commentary: The Academic Legacy of Al-Sakkākī’s Miftāḥ al-ʿUlūm,” JAOS 112/4 (1992), pp. 594–97. 299 Stewart, “Sajʿ in the Qur’ān,” p. 107.

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was his more conservative approach, which stressed jurisprudence and the religious sciences over al-Jorjānī’s which favored philosophy and the ‘foreign sciences,’ that was to set the direction in law and higher learning.”300 It seems reasonable to suggest that Esfezâri and the Timurid court under Soltân-Hoseyn Bâyqarâ were—to some extent—influenced by the “conservative and legalistic nature of the Sunni revival under Shāh-Rokh.”301 At the same time that we acknowledge Esfezâri’s commitment to orthodoxy and prophetography in the dibâche of the Resâle-yi qavânin, we nonetheless have to recognize a Sufi impulse. Again, the work of Maria Subtelny is helpful in this regard. Her examination of the shrine of Abd-Allâh Ansâri in Herat demonstrates the degree to which the Timurids were comfortable with looking to and relying on the mausoleum of a well-noted Hanbalite religious personality such as Ansâri to shore up their program of dynastic ideology and sense of legitimacy.302 In this way, the Hanafi Timurid embrace of Ansâri, who had emerged somewhat ironically under the Karts and Timurids as an “orthodox” Sufi capable of extending spiritual protection (barakat), reflects in many ways Esfezâri’s rationalization of enshâ’ within the parameters of what was commonly accepted in the 15 th century as an “orthodox Sufism” when discussing the Naqshbandis and their bailiwick in the Timurid court from the mid-15 th century onward.303 300 Maria Subtelny and Anas Khalidov, “The Curriculum of Islamic Higher Learning in Timurid Iran in the Light of the Sunni Revival under ShāhRukh,” JAOS 115/2 (1995), p. 214. 301 Subtelny and Khalidov, “The Curriculum of Islamic Higher Learning in Timurid Iran,” p. 236. 302 Maria Subtelny, “The Cult of ʿAbdullāh Anṣārī under the Timurids,” in A. Giese and J. C. Bürgel, eds., Gott ist schön und Er liebt die Schönheit (Bern, 1994), pp. 378–79. 303 Devin DeWeese, “The Eclipse of the Kubraviyah Order in Central Asia,” IrSt 21/1–2 (1988), p. 56; Jo-Ann Gross and Asom Urunbaev, The Letters of Khwâja ‛Ubayd Allâh Aḥrâr and His Associates (Leiden, 2002), pp. 14–17; Jo-Ann Gross, “The Polemic of ‘Official’ and ‘Unofficial’ Islam,” in F. de Jong and B. Radtke, eds., Islamic Mysticism Contested: Thirteen Centuries of Controversies and Polemics (Leiden, 1999), pp. 520–40; Dina Le Gall, The Culture of Sufism: Naqshbandis in the Ottoman World, 1450–1700 (Albany, 2005), pp. 135–37; Muzaffar Alam, “The Debate Within: A Sufi Critique of Religious Law, Tasawwuf and Politics in Mughal India,” South Asian and Culture 2/2 (2011), pp. 145–47.

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Mansha’ al-enshâ’ by Nezâm-al-Din Abd-al-Vâse’ Nezâmi Bâkharzi (d. 909/1503)304 Our next epistolographic station is Nezâm-al-Din Abd-al-Vâse’ Nezâmi Bâkharzi’s Manshâ’ al-enshâ’ (Wellspring of Enshâ’). Khwândamir is considerably more enthusiastic in his appraisal of Bâkharzi, describing how, some months after the (second) ascension of Soltân-Hoseyn Bâyqarâ in 875/1470, he was commissioned to write a Timurid history; when the ruler saw his intricate use of metaphors and other rhetorical devices, Bâkharzi was promptly installed in the chancellery of the main vizier, Khwâje Nezâm-alMolk Khwâfi, while also providing instruction on prose and writing to the vizier’s children.305 Mir Ali-Shir Navâ’i wrote in his Majâles al-nafâ’es: “regarding the art of enshâ’, [Bâkharzi] is skillful and masterful, and there is no one equal to him.” 306 The Dastur al-vozarâ discusses the indebtedness of Khwâje Kamâl-al-Din Hoseyn and Khwâje Rashid-al-Din Amid-al-Molk—the sons of the vizier Nezâm al-Molk Khwâfi—towards their former teacher in his teaching of administrative principles and the literary arts.307 The contents of the Manshâ’ al-enshâ’ were penned by Bâkharzi himself,308 but the compilation was in fact organized by Abu’l-Qâsem Shehâb-al-Din Ahmad Khwâfi (with the takhallos Monshi) some time after Bâkharzi’s death in 909/1503; thus, the Manshâ’ al-enshâ’ is contemporaneous with another epistolographic manual of interest: the Makhzan al-enshâ’ by Hoseyn Vâ’ez Kâshefi (to be 304 Nezâm-al-Din Abd-al-Vâse’ Nezâmi (Bâkharzi), Manshâ’ al-enshâ’, Vol. I, ed. Rokn-al-Din Homâyunfarrokh (Tehran, 1978). 305 Khwândamir, Habib al-siyar, III, p. 339. 306 Mir Ali-Shir Navâ’i, Tadhkere-ye majâles al-nafâ’es, ed. Ali-Asghar Hekmat (Tehran, 1985), p. 99, p. 276. 307 Ghiyâth-al-Din b. Homâm-al-Din Khwândamir, Dastur al-vozarâ, ed. Sa’id Nafisi (Tehran, 1939), pp. 424–25. 308 It should be noted that the editor of Manshâ’ al-enshâ’, Rokn-al-Din Homâyunfarrokh, suggests in his introduction that Hoseyn Vâ’ez Kâshefi may have played a role in the writing of the first volume of this work, or at least commissioned it, while suggesting that Abu’l-Qâsem Khwâfi himself wrote the second volume. See his prefatory remarks in Abd-al-Vâse’ Nezâmi (Bâkharzi), Mansha’ al-enshâ’, pp. 7–15, p. 30.

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discussed shortly). In this way, our main focus—the dibâche—was not written by Bâkharzi, but by the compiler Abu’l-Qâsem Khwâfi, who by all appearances was one of the senior chancellery writers under Soltân-Hoseyn Bâyqarâ and was likely related to one of the many prominent bureaucrats and religious scholars who came from the town of Khwâf in Khorasan.309 The cynosure of the dibâche of the Manshâ’ al-enshâ’, to be sure, is Abd-al-Vâse’ Nezâmi Bâkharzi himself. Abu’l-Qâsem Khwâfi praises God, the Prophet, and his family through all manner of manifestations of the root verb vâv-sin-eyn. Thus, in one line of poetry: “[God] is a flowery monshi who produces miracles/It is all-comprising knowledge (vâse’ al-elmi) which allows His craft of creation (enshâ’).”310 Cleverly, Abu’l-Qâsem combines tajnis with tarsi’, wherein the ample courtyard (vos’at‑e meydân) of the eloquent ones and the spacious arch (foshat‑e ivân) of the rhetoricians … is made from enshâ’ which comprises the poetic houses of revelation (beyt‑e divân‑e resâlat) and prophetic signs (beyt al-qaside-ye eshârat‑e nobovvat).311 This is buttressed with the Hadith: “I am the most eloquent of the Arabs and the Persians,” but Abu’lQâsem makes it clear that there is a distinction between prose and poetry in this particular scenario, quoting Qur’an 36:69: “And We have not taught [Mohammad] poetry.”312 Likewise, he employs the paronomasia (tajnis) when he describes how the Prophet’s family stands as a majmu’e-ye monsha’ât‑e din; vocalized as monsha’ât, the reader would understand the family to be literally the “epistles” of religion, but vocalized as mansha’ât, Mohammad’s progeny are those “spatial manifestations” of religion. Introducing the true author of the Mansha’ al-enshâ’, Abu’lQâsem invokes the letters ṭâ and ẓâ, and how the numerical values of these two letters combine (according to the abjad system) to produce 909, a direct reference to the death date of Abd-al-Vâse’ Nezâmi Bâkharzi (909/1503). He introduces the author by name 309 Homâyunfarrokh indeed makes this point; see Abd-al-Vâse’ Nezâmi (Bâkharzi), Mansha’ al-enshâ’, p. 27. 310 Abd-al-Vâse’ Nezâmi (Bâkharzi), Mansha’ al-enshâ’, I, p. 3. 311 Abd-al-Vâse’ Nezâmi (Bâkharzi), Mansha’ al-enshâ’, I, p. 4. 312 Abd-al-Vâse’ Nezâmi (Bâkharzi), Mansha’ al-enshâ’, I, p. 4.

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and title (Nezâm al-Haqq va’l-Haqiqat), and in lieu of a biography we are given what appears to be a subtle ejâze of sorts; what follows is arguably a description of his different religious qualities, but it is far more compelling to read the text as indirect references to a body of scholarly work which had been formative for Bâkharzi. In this way, Abu’l-Qâsem talks of his “sound fundamentals of religion” (sahâh‑e aqâyed) which comprise the “law of healing and salvation” (qânun‑e shefâ’ va najât) where he wrote with “pure allusions” (eshârât‑e sâfiyye) and “enduring admonitions (tanbihât‑e kâfiye).”313 Of course, these are references to titles attributed to the great philosopher and physician, Ebn-Sinâ: al-Qânun fi’l-tebb, al-Shefâ’314, Ketâb al-najât315, and al-Eshârât va’l-tanbihât.316 It would also appear that Abu’l-Qâsem Khwâfi was not above mining the lode of epistolary writing of Bâkharzi himself; Khwâfi introduces the “gardens of eloquence and rhetoric—which have sources and wellsprings for the fountains of rank and station—are made verdant and prosperous with the moistures of the cascades of quick wits.”317 This is directly borrowed from a farmân penned earlier by Bâkharzi on behalf of the head librarian of the royal library of Soltân-Hoseyn Bâyqarâ (and which appears in the Manshâ’ al-enshâ’). Bâkharzi writes how “our treasury-garden (i. e. library) which is both a waterhole (mashra’e) and a wellspring (manba’) of the fountains of Gnostic (ma’âref) and customary (avâref) knowledge.318 Other rearrangements and replications are provided by 313 Abd-al-Vâse’ Nezâmi (Bâkharzi), Mansha’ al-enshâ’, I, p. 5. 314 Part of this has been edited and translated; see Ebn-Sinâ, al-Shefâ’: al-Elâhiyyât, ed. and tr. M. Marmura as The Metaphysics of ‘The Healing’: A Parallel English-Arabic Text (Provo, 2005). 315 Ebn-Sinâ, Ketâb al-nâjât, ed. and tr. Fazlur Rahman as Avicenna’s Psychology: An English Translation of ‘Kitâb al-Nâjât’, Book II, Chapter VI with Historical-Philosophical Notes and Textual Improvements on the Cairo Edition (Oxford, 1952). 316 Ebn-Sinâ, al-Eshârât va’l-tanbihât, ed. S. Duny (Cairo, 1960). 317 Abd-al-Vâse’ Nezâmi (Bâkharzi), Mansha’ al-enshâ’, I, p. 5. 318 Abd-al-Vâse’ Nezâmi (Bâkharzi), Manshâ’ al-enshâ’, I, p. 204. This was discovered on account of the entry “Hosayn Bâyqarâ” provided by the Dâ’erat al-Ma’âref‑e Ketâbdâri va Ettalâ’‑e Rasâni on their website (http:// portal.nlai.ir/daka/default.aspx).

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Abu’l-Qâsem, but when Bâkharzi’s eulogist talks of his writings as the key to the treasury of intimate details and exposition of the riddle of truths (meftâh‑e kanz‑e daqâ’eq va izâh‑e ramz‑e haqâ’eq) we find that this is simply a rearrangement of Bâkharzi’s description of the library in his farmân: meftâh‑e kanz‑e haqâ’eq va izâh‑e ramz‑e daqâ’eq.319 According to Abu’l-Qâsem, Bâkharzi is the “fiery intellect” (dhehn‑e vaqqâd) who is opening “the eyes of reason” (bayenât‑e aqli) to reveal “the quandaries of transmission” (mo’zalât‑e naqli).320 The compiler also describes how “the philosophy of illumination” was Bâkharzi’s “art” (fann), and we cannot help but wonder if Abu’l-Qâsem was not also referring to Sohravardi’s Hekmat al-eshrâq, the foundational text on post-Avicennan Illuminationist philosophy which enjoyed great popularity among theosophists and intellectuals in the medieval Persianate world.321 More mundane details about Bâkharzi’s life follow—he lived in Herat and served primarily as a comptroller for Soltân-Hoseyn Bâyqarâ—and Abu’l-Qâsem also adds how he wrote hundreds of letters but not one of them was less than 50 lines (satr).322 He also explains how Bâkharzi’s work has enlivened the spirit (ruh) of the great historian and scholar, Sharaf-al-Din Yazdi, but Abu’l-Qâsem has less than enthusiastic remarks regarding the early 13 th-century Ghurid historian Hasan‑e Nezâmi: “If [he] has that view from the height of the ivân of the divân of enshâ’, it is quite obvious that [his] Tâj al-ma’âther has fallen from the head of pretension and it cannot be put back on account of shame.”323 Abu’l-Qâsem at this point introduces himself and his commission to compile Bâkharzi’s epistolary legacies, but also adds how his work had been edited and corroborated so that the “precious brides of quick wits,” which is possibly an allusion to Kâshefi’s own work on prosody, the Badâye’ al-afkâr fi sanâye’ al-ash’âr, were now revealed. This interpretation corroborates Homâyunfarrokh’s ideas about some level of collaboration 319 320 321 322 323

Abd-al-Vâse’ Nezâmi (Bâkharzi), Mansha’ al-enshâ’, I, p. 204. Abd-al-Vâse’ Nezâmi (Bâkharzi), Mansha’ al-enshâ’, I, p. 5. Abd-al-Vâse’ Nezâmi (Bâkharzi), Mansha’ al-enshâ’, I, p. 6. Abd-al-Vâse’ Nezâmi (Bâkharzi), Mansha’ al-enshâ’, I, p. 6. Abd-al-Vâse’ Nezâmi (Bâkharzi), Mansha’ al-enshâ’, I, p. 7.

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between Kâshefi and Abu’l-Qâsem Khwâfi.324 This degree of involvement by Hoseyn Vâ’ez Kâshefi serves as an excellent segue to proceed to the next epistolographic work of interest, Kâshefi’s own Makhzan al-enshâ’.

Makhzan al-enshâ’ by Hoseyn Vâ’ez Kâshefi (d. 910/1504–5)325 Our final repository of epistolography is Hoseyn Vâ’ez Kâshefi’s Makhzan al-enshâ’ (Treasury of Enshâ’), produced in 907/1501–2 by one of the preeminent polymaths of the late Timurid period.326 This work327 provides innumerable tables and indices which list appropriate titulatures, blessings, invocations, and other forms of salutatios which might make up a typical medieval Perso-Islamic letter produced by an official chancellery; moreover, these inventories are organized on the basis of rank in society—exalted (alâ), noble (ashraf), and middling (owsat)—as well as duties and vocation. In many ways, the Makhzan al-enshâ’ is evocative of the 14 th-century Dastur al-kâteb by Nakhjavâni and its predisposition towards categorization and ranking of a model Perso/Turco-Islamic state. Kâshefi begins with a series of Arabic and Persian encomiums to God, and quotes Qur’an 17:70 (“We have honored 324 Abd-al-Vâse’ Nezâmi (Bâkharzi), Mansha’ al-enshâ’, I, pp. 9–10. 325 MS Patna, Khudabakhsh Library, 9:76; MS Paris, Bibliothèque nationale, no. 73; MS London, British Library, Add. 25,865; other later Indian copies are available in Hyderabad (Salar Jung Museum and Andhra Pradesh Oriental Government Manuscripts Library), Rampur (Reza Rampur Library), and Aligarh (Mawlana Azad University Library). 326 For a detailed discussion of Kâshefi’s various contributions, see the special issue of IrSt 36/4 (2003) edited by Maria Subtelny. 327 Although different manuscript copies are available, this essay relies on the Paris copy, namely Bibliothèque nationale, no. 73. In fact, this is one of the earliest known copies (dated 1546) of the Makhzan al-enshâ’. It originally belonged in the private library of the great French statesman, Colbert. In all likelihood, this copy came originally from the Ottoman Empire since Colbert had sent men like the Marquis de Nointel and Antoine Galland to the Levant in the 1670 s and 1680 s for the purposes of, among other things, collecting Oriental manuscripts.

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humanity”) to argue how the created world was bestowed with the elegance of reason (jamâl‑e aql) and the generous power of excellent, perfected speech.328 With this, Kâshefi shifts to praising the Prophet Mohammad, and how the light of his eloquence is ornamented and stamped with the great toghrâ of “I know you, I am from Quraish“ (anâ a’rafakom anâ men Qoreysh).”329 “It is clear [that] man’s nature is inherently urban” and Kâshefi further clarifies how “the basis of civilization consists of living together with other people because a single person is incapable of preparing the means of subsistence without the help of a group of people.”330 The phrase used by Kâshefi—ensân‑e madani be’l-tab’– and the worldview it reflects are borrowed directly from the 13 th-century Akhlâq‑e Nâseri by Khwâje Nasir-al-Din Tusi. Tusi used this phrase in his treatment of the need for social stratification in a model Islamic society: “if men were equal, they would all perish. The human species is naturally in need of combination and cooperation, and this type of combination is called ‘civilized life.’ ”331 That this particular emphasis of Nasirean ethics appears in Kâshefi is not surprising given that Kâshefi penned his own ethics manual, the Akhlâq‑e Mohseni, which in turn was largely based on the Akhlâq‑e Nâseri and the Akhlâq‑e Jalâli by the philospher Jalâl-al-Din Davvâni (d. 906/1501–2). Kâshefi also rationalizes how God distinguished humankind with the honor of speech so that what remains hidden in a person’s heart may spring forth into the realm of existence by means of utterance. In Kâshefi’s estimation, a scribe is a melodious parrot whose tongue casts ornamented phrases and whose image (somewhat ironically) is an embodiment of the idiom: “if it were not for the tongue, there would be no men.”332 In this way, the scribe moves the beautiful, letter-forming pen and adorns the pages of exposition with the beautiful Arabic phrase: “knowledge is the molder 328 Kâshefi, Makhzan al-enshâ’, Bibliothèque nationale, fol. 2 b. 329 Kâshefi, Makhzan al-enshâ’, Bibliothèque nationale, fol. 2 b. 330 Kâshefi, Makhzan al-enshâ’, Bibliothèque nationale, fol. 2 b. 331 Nasir-al-Din Tusi, Akhlâq‑e Nâseri, tr. G. M. Wickens as The Nasirean Ethics (London, 1964), p. 210. 332 Kâshefi, Makhzan al-enshâ’, Bibliothèque nationale, fol. 3 a.

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of words, pouring ideas into the molds of letters.”333 Coquettishly, Kâshefi describes how utterance gives form to hidden essence: whenever the beautiful ones (mokhaddarât) of the veiled ideas (totuq-e ma’âni)—who live in the bedchambers (hajalât) of human emotions (qolub‑e ensâni)—dress themselves with the ornament and words, they step out onto the upper balconies (ghoraf ) of proclamation and revelation (e’lâm va akhbâr).334 Accordingly, it is commanded that they call this first place the Spoken Epiphany (mojallâ-ye kalâmi) and the second place is the Written Epiphany (mojallâ-ye ketâbi), a clear evocation of Ebn-al-Arabi’s notion of a two-tiered divine, constant creation.335 After some consideration of how writing preserves what has been spoken, Kâshefi briefly relates the types of writing: entesâkh (copying), estifâ’ (accounting), and enshâ’ (not composition, but revealing what is hidden).336 Intriguingly, Kâshefi admonishes the reader that writers should produce texts according to the idiom and phraseology of the day, and that past styles should not necessarily be observed by an aspiring writer; “every age has its unique states and statesmen,” he reminds us.337 These admonitions against facile imitation are taken— practically word-for-word—directly from Nakhjavâni338, and we are struck here by Kâshefi’s brazenness. Kâshefi discusses the rise of his career under the auspices of Soltân-Hoseyn Bâyqarâ and Mir Ali-Shir, who are extolled at length in this section of the dibâche.339 For Kâshefi, there was clearly an important ontological interdependence between prose and poetry in enshâ’. In working in the enshâ’ context, the works of prose (nathr) are joined in one strand with the pearls of verse (nazm) that is in turn adorned with the beautiful gems of idioms (mohâvarât).340 Celebrating this interdependence of nathr and nazm with several instances of poetry, Kâshefi then 333 Kâshefi, Makhzan al-enshâ’, Bibliothèque nationale, fol. 3 a. 334 Kâshefi, Makhzan al-enshâ’, Bibliothèque nationale, fol. 3 a. 335 Kâshefi, Makhzan al-enshâ’, Bibliothèque nationale, fol. 3 a. 336 Kâshefi, Makhzan al-enshâ’, Bibliothèque nationale, fol. 3 b. 337 Kâshefi, Makhzan al-enshâ’, Bibliothèque nationale, fol. 4 a. 338 Nakhjavâni, Dastur al-kâteb, I, p. 9. 339 Kâshefi, Makhzan al-enshâ’, Bibliothèque nationale, fols. 4 a–b. 340 Kâshefi, Makhzan al-enshâ’, Bibliothèque nationale, fol. 5 a.

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introduces his work formally as the Makhzan al-enshâ’ and presents a rough table of contents.341 Like Nakhjavâni’s own prefatory remarks in the Dastur al-kâteb, Kâshefi unveils his own formal introduction; interestingly, this is not styled as a dibâche, nor as a moqaddame, but as an onvân.342 This onvân is devoted to describing the role of the scribe. A writer should be conversant with the knowledge of literary sciences, and he should not be deficient in the study of the rules of Arabic. It is also necessary that he study Arabic and Persian poetry, and Kâshefi describes the importance of dressing the brides of prose writings (arâ’es‑e manthurât) with the ornaments of poetry (be-zivar‑e manzumât). Not surprisingly, Kâshefi is adamant that a scribe be intimately familiar with the ranks of different social strata of each group of peoples in the world so that he can describe each person in a way that was commensurate with his status, again a hallmark feature of Nakhjavâni’s Dastur al-kâteb. Similarly, Kâshefi writes that the scribe should guard against strange words, repulsive phrases, and wild expressions; a writer should not shamelessly flaunt eloquence and rhetorical style, but “speak to people according to their intellect.”343 Kâshefi explains how there are three rough divisions to abide by: the most sublime (a’lâ), namely sultans, amirs, governors, sodurs, viziers, and those of the administration; the most honored (ashraf), including sayyeds, qâzis, shaikhs, learned ones, etc.; and the third middle group (owsat) who are provincial notables, heads of tribes, merchants, and feudal chiefs. This impulse towards social stratification should not be at all surprising. This is, in part, on account of the fact that Nakhjavâni—on whom Kâshefi relied extensively—was similarly disposed. However, we should also acknowledge the fact that Kâshefi subscribed to a long and well-established selsele of mirrors-for-princes—Tusi’s Akhlâq‑e Nâseri, Nezâm-al-Molk’s Siyâsat-nâme, Davvâni’s Akhlâq‑e Jalâli—which consistently adopted and promoted social and 341 Kâshefi, Makhzan al-enshâ’, Bibliothèque nationale, fol. 5 a. 342 We are reminded here of Mohammad b. Abd-al-Khâleq Meyhani’s own unique rubric to his preface so many centuries earlier during the Saljuq era; Meyhani, Dastur‑e dabiri, p. 1. 343 Kâshefi, Makhzan al-enshâ’, Bibliothèque nationale, fol. 5 a.

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vocational differentiation as a means of ensuring proper modes of authority and social order. Discussing Kâshefi’s defense and promotion of the interdependence and interchangeability of poetry and prose is a useful means to sum up the chimera-like tradition of enshâ’ during the period 1000–1500. This medieval discursive nexus emerged at a crucial time when literate Persephones were seeking to locate an identity for themselves and their language. At the same time that Persian was beginning its ascent as a poetic, courtly, and administrative language, Arabic grammarians and literary scholars were very much still mired in debates—often acrimonious—regarding “natural” (matbu’) Arabic and the “artifical” (masnu’) language associated with the new “style” (badi’) and its penchant for fanciful rhetoric and literary devices. While much of this heated exchange was focused squarely on the poetic tradition, there is reasonable evidence to suggest that prose literature and epistolography offered new and unfenced pasturelands for roaming litterateurs and monshi stylists.344 It seems reasonable to suggest that epistolographic prose in Arabic—as a genre—was not especially well-disposed towards poetry, and various promoters went so far as to posit the superiority of prose over poetry. The Persian literati and bureaucrats developed the epistolographic genre in a way that their Arab counterparts never did; it is only in the Saljuq period that scholars like Bahâ’-al-Din Baghdâdi were concerned about these long-standing debates regarding masnu’ and matbu’. By the time when Kâshefi was writing in the 15 th century, such separation and distinction has been largely effaced, and the respective genres of poetry and prose have been totalized and refashioned in the ongoing definition of enshâ’. Moreover, it should be also noted that enshâ’ never abandoned its Arabic provenance, and there is good reason to see such epistolary texts as Arabo-Persian rather than exclusively “Persian” in the way that we might expect in formative poetic texts like the Shâh-nâme. The genre of epistolary writing, relatively unfettered and unencumbered by the rules and strictures of poetry, also allowed for 344 Stetkevych, “From Jāhiliyyah to Badīʿ iyyah,” pp. 215–17.

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individuals to profile an entire spectrum of disciplines and topics: history, prophetography, tafsir, Hadiths, philosophy, theosophy, bureaucratic culture, political ethics, and—somewhat ironically— poetry; regarding the latter, monshis were quite fancy-free and footloose in their quotation of poetry, dropping beyts and hemistichs whenever and wherever they pleased with little regard for any larger concerns of the conventions of rhetoric or rhyme. Arguably the most innovative and creative approaches came during the Mongol era, when individuals like Hakim-al-Din Mohammad b. Ali al-Nâmus Khwâri seized upon enshâ’ as a genre to rationalize and promote an Avicennan cosmology which sought to find conciliation and common ground between the philosophers and the traditionalists during a time when the Perso-Islamic world was most vulnerable and—not surprisingly—most creative. In his insightful essay “Scientific and Philosophical Enquiry: Achievements and Reactions in Muslim History,” Oliver Leaman discusses the larger implications of philosophical discussion in the medival Islamic world. For Leaman, it is not an issue of contrasting “those who supported reason and those who did not. Reason is needed just as much to determine what the law says on a particular topic as it is required to work out whether an Aristotelian argument is valid or not.”345 Nonetheless, there was a larger debate taking place across the intellectual landscape: how should the theoretical problems of the Islamic world be resolved? Would it be the “philosphers inspired by Greek science and philosophy, or would it be the ʿolamâ’ and the foqahâ’, the traditional Islamic scholars and jurists?”346 We also have to acknowledge that the relatively ecumenical and unrestricted landscape which emerged after the destruction of the caliphate in 1258 would have played no small role in such innovations, although one could certainly argue that such trends were well in play since the 11 th century. By the time of Kâshefi, enshâ’ had become a staple discipline for the typical “scholar-bureaucrat,” and to be sure it was considered 345 Oliver Leaman, “Scientific and Philosophical Enquiry: Achievements and Reactions in Muslim History,” in F. Daftary, ed., Intellectual Traditions in Islam (London, 2000, p. 36. 346 Leaman, “Scientific and Philosophical Enquiry,” p. 36.

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de rigeur among bureaucratic literati to produce an epistolographic manual during one’s career; thus, the proliferation of such texts in the 15 th and 16 th centuries. Kâshefi was an exemplar of such polymathic trends and contributed a prolific number of texts on various traditions; however, many of these were replicated and redacted from previous eras—Makhzan al-enshâ’ (after Dastur al-kâteb), Badâye’ al-afkâr fi sanâye’ al-ash’âr (after Al-Mo’ jam fi ma’âyer ash’âr al-Ajam), Akhlâq‑e Mohseni (after Akhlâq‑e Jalâliyye), Anvâr‑e soheyli (after Kalile va Demne), etc.—but it should be noted that the Fotovvat-nâme-ye soltâni appears to be quite original and singular as a discursive text. Nonetheless, as Subtelny notes: “Kashefi set for himself a mission to assemble and transmit the cultural patrimony of his age; he was motivated by a conscious plan to create something akin to an everyman’s library of his time.”347 The sense here is that this popularization and distilling of various genres amongst a greater spectrum of courtiers, poets, and scholars was a hallmark feature of the Timurid and later Safavid and Mughal periods. However, the genre of Persian enshâ’ during its genesis in the Saljuq period (Meyhani, Joveyni, Baghdâdi)—and its elaboration during the Mongol era (Ebn-al-Zaki, Nakhjavâni, Khwâri)—was arguably a space of unrestricted expression that allowed contribution to the ongoing debate about orthodoxy, orthopraxy, philosophy and theosophy, on the most profound level.

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PERSIAN PROSE Reinert, Benedikt. “Probleme der vormonglischen arabisch-persischen Poesiegemeinschaft und ihr Reflex in der Poetik.” In G. E. von Grunebaum, ed., Arabic Poetry: Theory and Development, Wiesbaden, 1973, pp. 71–105. Reżâʾi, Jamâl. “Bu Sahl‑e Zowzani dar Târikh‑e Beyhaqi.” In Yâdnâme-ye Abu’l-Fażl‑e Beyhaqi, Mashhad, 1971, pp. 220–32. Riad, Eva. Studies in the Syriac Preface. Uppsala, 1988. Ritter, Helmut. Über die Bildersprache Nizamis. Berlin, 1927. Riyâḥi, Moḥammad-Amin. Zabân va adab‑e Fârsi dar qalamrow‑e ʿOthmâni. Tehran, 1990. Roemer, Hans Robert. “Inshāʾ.” In EI2, III, pp. 1241–44. Rubanovich, Julia. “Metaphors of Authorship in Medieval Persian Prose: A Preliminary Study.” Middle Eastern Literatures 12/2 (2009), pp. 127–35. Rudgar, Qanbar-ʿAli. “Khânedân‑e Zangi-ye Fâryumadi.” Moṭâleʿ ât‑e Eslâmi 68 (2007), pp. 163–86. Rypka, Jan. “Geschichte der Neupersischen Literatur bis zum Beginn des 20. Jahrhunderts.” In Jan Rypka, ed., Iranische Literaturgeschichte, Leipzig, 1959, pp. 71–337. ­—. “Poets and Prose Writers of the Lake Saljuq and Modern Periods,” in CHIr, V, pp. 550–625. Sabra, A. I. “al-Khwārazmī.” In EI2, IV, pp. 1068–69. Safa, Z. “Bahāʾ-al-Din Baḡdādi.” In EIr, III, pp. 430–31. Ṣâleḥi, Naṣr-Allâh. “Ketâb-shenâsi-ye towṣifi-ye monshaʾât, mokâtebât va nâme-hâ.” Ketâb‑e mâh—târikh va jogrâfiyâ 5 (2002), pp. 55–152. Pormann, Peter E. and Emilie Savage-Smith. Medieval Islamic Medicine, Washington, D.C., 2007. Schimmel, Annemarie. Mystical Dimensions of Islam. Chapel Hill, N. C., 1975. Simidchieva, Marta. “Imitation and Innovation in Timurid Poetics: Kâshifi’s Badâʿ i al-afkâr and its Predecessors, al-Muʿ jam and Hadâ’iq al-sihr.” IrSt 36/4 (2003), pp. 509–30. Smyth, William. “Controversy in a Tradition of Commentary: The Academic Legacy of Al-Sakkākī’s Miftāḥ al-ʿUlūm.” JAOS 112/4 (1992), pp. 589–97. Stetkevych, Suzanne P. “From Jāhiliyyah to Badîʿ iyyah: Orality, Literacy, and the Transformation of Rhetoric in Arabic Poetry.” Oral Tradition 25/1 (2010), pp. 211–30. Stewart, Devin. “Sajʿ in the Qurʾān: Prosody and Structure.” JAL 21/2 (1990), pp. 101–39.

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LOCATING ENSHÂ’ AND ITS ONTOLOGY Subtelny, Maria. “Centralizing Reform and its Opponents in the Late Timurid Period.” IrSt 21/1–2 (1988), pp. 123–51. ­—. “The Cult of ʿAbdullāh Anṣārī under the Timurids.” In A. Giese and J. C. Bürgel, eds., Gott ist schön und Er liebt die Schönheit, Bern, 1994, pp. 377–406. —. “Esfezāri, Moʿin al-Din Mohammad Zamchi.” In EIr, VIII, ­ pp. 595–96. ­—. “Husayn Va’iz-i Kashifi: Polymath, Popularizer, and Preserver.” IrSt 36/3 (2003), pp. 463–67. ­—. “A Medieval Persian Agricultural Manual in Context: The Irshâd alzirâʿa in Late Timurid and Early Safavid Khorasan.” Studia Iranica 22/2 (1993), pp. 167–217. ­—. “Scenes from the Literary Life of Tīmūrid Herat.” In R. M. Savory and D. A. Agius, eds., Logos Islamikos: Studia Islamica in Honorem Georgii Michaelis Wickens, Toronto, 1984, pp. 137–55. ­—. “A Taste for the Intricate: The Persian Poetry of the Late Timurid Period.” ZDMG 136/1 (1986), pp. 56–79. ­—. Timurids in Transition: Turko-Persian Politics and Acculturation in Medieval Iran. Leiden, 2007. Subtelny, Maria and Anas Khalidov. “The Curriculum of Islamic Higher Learning in Timurid Iran in the Light of the Sunni Revival under Shāh-Rukh.” JAOS 115/2 (1995), pp. 210–36. Szuppe, Maria. “Historiography V. Timurid Period.” In EIr, XII, pp. 356–63. ­—. “Le Khorassan aux XIVe –XVIe siècles: la littérature savante comme expression de l’unité avec la Transoxiane.” In L. Cirillo, ed., La Persia e l’Asia Centrale de Alessandro Magno al X secolo, Rome, 1996, pp. 149–64. Tourage, Mahdi. Rumi and the Hermeneutics of Eroticism. Leiden, 2007. Ullmann, Manfred. Die Medizin im Islam. Leiden, 1970. Van Berkel, Maaike. “The People of the Pen: Self-Perceptions of Status and Role in the Administration of Empires and Polities.” In M. Van Berkel and J. Duindam, eds., Prince, Pen, and Sword: Eurasian Perspectives, Leiden, 2018, pp. 384–451. Van Damme, Mark. “Les Sources écrites concernant l’oeuvre du secrétaire buyide Abū Ishāq aṣ-Ṣābī,” in M. Galley and D. R. Marshall, eds., Actes du premier Congrès d’études des cultures méditerranéenes d’influence Arabo-Berbère, Algiers, 1973, pp. 175–81. Van Gelder, G.  J.  H. Beyond the Line: Classical Arabic Literary Critics on the Coherence and Unity of the Poem. Leiden, 1982.

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PERSIAN PROSE Vesel, Živa. “Textes et lieux: L’Apport des dynasties mineures de l’Iran oriental a l’historie des sciences.” In F. Richard and M. Szuppe, eds., Écrit et culture en Asie centrale et dans le monde Turco-Iranien, Xe – XIXe siècles, Paris, 2009, pp. 147–64. Waldman, Marilyn R. Toward a Theory of Historical Narrative: A Case Study in Perso-Islamicate Historiography. Columbus, 1980. Waley, Muhammad Isa. “A Kubrawī Manual of Sufism: The Fuṣūṣ aladab of Yaḥyā Bākhazarī.” In L. Lewisohn, ed., The Legacy of Medieval Persian Sufism, London, 1992, pp. 289–310. Yarshater, Ehsan. “Persian Poetry in the Timurid and Safavid Period, 14 th–18 th Centuries.” In CHIr, VI, pp. 965–94. ­—. Sheʿr‑e Fârsi dar ʿahd‑e Shâhrokh. Tehran, 1955. Yazdi, Mehdi Ha’iri. The Principles of Epistemology in Islamic Philo­ sophy. Albany, 1992.

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CHAPTER 2 ADVICE LITERATURE Louise Marlow An ethical sensibility and a concern with moral instruction feature prominently in large portions of the Pahlavi (Middle Persian) and New Persian literary corpora, produced over some two millennia. Even when restricted, for the purposes of the present volume, to writings principally in prose, the terrain of advisory discourse in Persian is difficult to contain. Among the pertinent conceptual areas are andarz, “advice,” and its near-synonyms pand and nasihat (Ar. nasihe, pl. nasâ’eh); akhlâq (Ar.), “moral dispositions,” and by extension, ethics; kherad, “wisdom,” and hekmat (Ar. hekme, pl. hekam), also denoting a wise maxim or moral aphorism; ahd (Ar., pl. ohud) and vasiyye (Ar., pl. vasâyâ), “testament”; mow’eze (Ar., pl. mavâ’ez), exhortation or admonition; adab (Ar., pl. âdâb), in this context a model (or models) or prescription(s) for appropriate and praiseworthy behavior. These designations sometimes imply particular literary forms—the terms pand and hekmat, for example, both sometimes denote a single maxim—but more commonly they evoke elements of tone or register; not infrequently, more than one of these terms may be used in connection with a single text. This chapter will address four types of literary expression in which the advisory objective has featured most conspicuously. These categories are, in order, the individual sentence and collections of such sententiae; collections of narratives and cycles of stories; mirrors for princes; and philosophically informed treatises on the subject of ethics.1 These four modalities are not fully separable from one another. The first two categories constitute identifiable 1

Discussed in Sections 2–5, below.

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advisory genres in their own right; they also provided a repertoire of materials for use in the extended, discursive compositions that comprise the third and fourth categories. Several authors availed themselves, across their writings, of more than one of these modalities of moral expression; Sa’di of Shiraz (d. 1292), frequently presented as the surpassing figure in Persian moralia, straddled several of these types of discourse in his Bustân (The Orchard) and Golestân (The Rose Garden). Nor, collectively, do these four divisions account for the full range of ethical expression in Persian prose: the important categories of historiographical writings, narratives of exemplary lives, and collections of stories are treated elsewhere in this volume.2 Traditions of ethical and didactic writings in Persian, while distinctive, evolved in larger literary and linguistic contexts, which reflect substantial contact with the Pahlavi and Ara­bic, and some contact with the Syriac and Sanskrit literatures. Given the importance of this intertextual dimension, I shall consider, briefly, these interrelationships before turning to the four modalities of ethical expression outlined in the previous paragraph.

1. Continuities and Interactions among the Pahlavi, Ara­bic, and Persian Advisory Literatures Literary articulations of ethical counsel are common to the Pahlavi and New Persian corpora alike, and, as several scholars have demonstrated, the two bodies of literature display countless instances of continuity.3 Ebn-al-Moqaffa’ (d. ca. 757), Abân‑e Lâheqi (d. 815), 2

3

See Chapters 6, 7, 8, and 9. Note: Throughout the present chapter, translations from the Ara­bic and Persian texts, unless otherwise indicated, are by the author; the corresponding page numbers in published translations will also be provided. See, for example, Shaul Shaked, “Andarz and Andarz Literature in Pre-Islamic Iran,” in EIr, I, pp. 11–16; idem, “From Iran to Islam: Notes on Some Themes in Transmission,” Jerusalem Studies in Ara­bic and Islam 4 (1984), pp. 31–67; Z. Safa, “Andarz Literature in New Persian,” in EIr, I, pp. 16–22; Mohsen Zakeri, Persian Wisdom in Ara­bic Garb: ʿAlī b. ʿUbayda

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Ali b. Obayda Rayhâni (d. 834), and Sahl b. Hârun b. Râhaveyh (d. 830) translated and adapted numerous late Sasanian texts from Pahlavi into Ara­bic, and their literary activities ensured that the Pahlavi literature known as andarz (a term used in New Persian as well), now in Ara­bic forms, not only added to the growing textual corpus available in Ara­bic but also contributed significantly to the development of Ara­bic literary culture, or adab. Ara­bic, in fact, provided a common medium for the reception, dissemination, and development of a vast and diverse repertoire of aphorisms; Sanskrit, Greek and Syriac materials also passed into Ara­bic, sometimes through the intermediate language of Pahlavi.4 A widely circulated Ara­bic version of a Sasanian andarz text was the Ahd‑e Ardashir (Testament of Ardashir), which was incorporated in its entirety into Ara­bic histories and anthologies, and cited copiously in works of advice literature, in Ara­bic and Persian alike. In the voice of Ardashir, founder of the Sasanian dynasty, and addressed to his son and successor, the Ahd‑e Ardashir consists of passages that articulate principles of kingship, define causes and consequences of political stability and instability, and prescribe specific governmental policies and practices.5

4

5

al-Rayḥānī (D. 219/834) and His ‘Jawāhir al-kilam wa-farāʾ id al-ḥikam’ (Leiden, 2007); idem, “Ādāb al-falāsifa: The Persian Content of an Ara­bic Collection of Aphorisms,” Mélanges de l’Université Saint-Joseph 57 (2004), pp. 173–90; idem, “ʿAlī ibn ʿUbaida al-Raiḥānī: A Forgotten Belletrist (adīb) and Pahlavi Translator,” Oriens 34 (1994), pp. 75–102; Neguin Yavari, Advice for the Sultan: Prophetic Voices and Secular Politics in Medieval Islam (Oxford, 2014); idem, The Future of Iran’s Past: Niẓām al-Mulk Remembered (Oxford, 2018). See also Charles-Henri de Fouchécour, Moralia: Les notions morales dans la littérature persane du 3 e/9 e au 7 e/13 e siècle (Paris, 1986), p. 6. Dimitri Gutas, “Classical Ara­bic Wisdom Literature: Nature and Scope,” JAOS 101 (1981), pp. 49–86; Kevin van Bladel, “The Iranian Characteristics and Forged Greek Attributions in the Ara­bic Sirr al-asrār (Secret of Secrets),” Mélanges de l’Université Saint-Joseph 57 (2004), pp. 151–72; idem, “The Bactrian Background of the Barmakids,” in Anna Akasoy, Ch. Burnett, and R. Yoeli-Tlalim, eds., Islam and Tibet: Interactions along the Musk Routes (Farnham, U. K., 2011), pp. 43–88. Ahd‑e Ardashir, ed. Ehsân Abbâs (Beirut, 1967).

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A longer text, known as the Tansar-nâme (Letter of Tansar), also reportedly rendered into Ara­bic by Ebn-al-Moqaffa’, survives only in a much later Persian version. In the voice of Tansar (or Tōsar), chief herbad of Ardashir, and intended to establish the latter’s legitimacy, the Tansar-nâme presents a more developed articulation of the principles enunciated in the Ahd‑e Ardashir. Although the ideas expounded in the Tansar-nâme entered the Ara­bic and Persian advisory discourses, later writers cite the text considerably less frequently than Ahd‑e Ardashir, perhaps a reflection of its loss in its Ara­bic form at a relatively early date.6 Another formative text in the Ara­bic and Persian advisory literatures was Ebn-al-Moqaffa’’s translation of Kalile va Demne, the collection of allegorical fables in which various animals portray the roles of king and courtiers. Kalile va Demne derives in part from the Indian Pañcatantra, which had been rendered into Pahlavi in the Sasanian period. Perennially popular, the Ara­bic version (or perhaps versions) provided the foundation for numerous reworkings, in countless languages, including New Persian, and in poetry as well as prose. Among the most noted Persian reworkings were the prose version of Nasr-Allâh b. Mohammad Monshi, made for Bahrâm Shâh of Ghazna (r. ca. 1117–57), and its revision, undertaken by Hoseyn Vâ’ez Kâshefi (d. 1504) at the Timurid court in Herat and entitled Anvâr‑e Soheyli (Lights of Canopus).7 The pre-Islamic past contributed to the formation of Persian advisory literature not only by means of the direct continuities facilitated through the translation of texts, but also as a carrier of symbolic significance. Wisdom, deemed universal and eternal, grew more meaningful with the passage of time; its roots lay in the remote past, and it seemed to have presaged, and made comprehensible, the 6 7

Nâme-ye Tansar be-Goshnâsp, rev. ed. Mojtabâ Minovi (Tehran, 1975), tr. Mary Boyce as The Letter of Tansar (Rome, 1968). See François de Blois, Burzōy’s Voyage to India and the Origin of the Book of Kalīlah wa Dimnah (London, 1990); Marianne Marroum, “Kalila wa Dimna: Inception, Appropriation, and Transmimesis,” Comparative Literature Studies 48 (2011), pp. 512–40; Christine van Ruymbeke, Kāshefi’s ‘Anvār‑e Sohayli’: Rewriting ‘Kalila and Dimna’ in Timurid Herat (Leiden, 2016).

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present and the future. Writing in Ara­bic, the great writer, historian, and ethicist Abu-Ali Meskaveyh of Rayy (d. 1030) recorded the wisdom of the Persians, Indians, Arabs, Greeks, and Muslims; he introduced this collective body of wisdom with the report that it derived from an ancient Persian work, the Jâvedân kherad (Perennial Wisdom), said to have been the testament of the primordial Iranian king Hushang.8 A similar type of symbolism underlies the accounts of the caliph al-Ma’mun’s (r. 813–33) visit to the tomb of Khosrow I Anushervan (r. 531–79), and the Buyid ruler Azod-alDowle’s (r. 949–83) visits to Persepolis.9 In these narratives of discovery, the living rulers not only benefit from the reflected prestige of the great kings of the past; they also gain access to the great treasury that comprises the forgotten wisdom of antiquity, and this blessing, inherent in their encounters with their wise predecessors, lends a kind of logic to their lives in the present. This association of wisdom, especially the wisdom necessary to royal power, with the great kings and sages of the past remains a central feature of the Persian advisory, ethical and didactic literary traditions. It was in Khorasan and Transoxiana that New Persian first appeared and flourished as a literary language. Fostered in these regions during the period of the Samanids (819–1005) and continued under their successors, the Ghaznavids (977–1186), Persian became an established linguistic medium across numerous literary genres and intellectual discourses. Under the Buyids (932–1062) in Iraq and the western regions of Iran, Persian speakers, as the case of Meskawayh illustrates, continued to employ the Ara­bic language for all literary purposes. The establishment of the Saljuq state 8 Meskaveyh, al-Hekme al-khâlede: Jâvidân kherad, ed. Abd-al-Rahmân Badawi (Cairo, 1952), p. 5. 9 Key-Kâvus b. Eskandar, Qâbus-nâme, ed. Gholâm-Hosayn Yusofi (Tehran, 1989), p. 29, tr. Reuben Levy as A Mirror for Princes (London 1951), pp. 44–45; Abu-Hâmed Ghazâli, Nasihat al-moluk, ed. Jalâl Homâʾi (Tehran, 1972), p. 138, tr. F. R. C. Bagley as Ghazālī’s Book of Counsel for Kings (Naṣīḥat al-mulūk) (London, 1964), pp. 81–82; Sheila S. Blair, The Monumental Inscriptions from Early Islamic Iran and Transoxiana (Leiden, 1992), pp. 32–35; A. S. Melikian-Chirvani, “Le royaume de Salomon: les inscriptions persanes de sites achéménides,” Le monde iranien et l’Islam 1 (1971), pp. 1–41.

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brought the use of Persian, already current in the eastern regions, to the formerly Buyid domains of Iraq and western Iran, and it was under the Saljuqs and their successors that advisory writing in Persian expanded further into the north-western regions of Iran and Anatolia. Similar processes of literary-linguistic diffusion followed the rise of later Persianate polities, notably the Ilkhanid state and its successors. Eventually, the production of advisory texts in Persian occurred across a terrain that stretched from Delhi to Istanbul.

2. Moralizing Sentences and Collections of Sententiae The moral sentence, a terse and often artfully crafted statement usually expressing a common observation, truism, or injunction, was highly prized in Pahlavi, Ara­bic and New Persian literature alike.10 This type of expression, the maxim or gnomon, constitutes one of the major areas of continuity from the Sasanian to the Islamic periods. As the previous section indicated, collections of such pronouncements, often ascribed to rulers and sages of the pre-­ Islamic era, were transmitted from Pahlavi (and probably Sanskrit) into Ara­bic and eventually New Persian; Greek gnomologia, also transposed into Ara­bic in the early centuries, sometimes passed through Pahlavi and Syriac. In most cases, the Pahlavi source-texts for the Ara­bic and Persian versions of Sasanian andarz have not survived; it is therefore not possible to ascertain accurately the relationships among the Pahlavi, Ara­bic, and New Persian versions of these texts. Equally important are the relationships between ­Ara­bic and Persian moralia; these two streams of moralistic expression interact and cross-pollinate one another in countless, explicit and implicit ways. It is nevertheless striking that two formal characteristics of Pahlavi andarz, the question-and-answer format and the use of numbers, remain ubiquitous in the Persian literature:

10 On this branch of Persian advisory literature, see de Fouchécour, Moralia, pp. 19–131.

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Advice Literature Dhu’l-Qarnayn was asked, “In what aspects of your kingdom do you take pleasure?” He replied, “In two things: the first is justice and equity (adl-o dâd); the second is that I am able to recompense any person who is kind to me with even greater kindness.” Bozorgmehr was asked, “In what factors does the king’s strength reside?” He answered, “The king’s strength appears in four things: in preserving the frontiers of his kingdom in his campaigns, in repelling his enemies, and in his holding dear of the learned (dânâyân) and the virtuous (ahl‑e fazl).”11

The Pahlavi, Ara­bic and Persian literatures of sententiae cover a variety of subjects. Mary Boyce’s identification in the Pahlavi repertoire of three types—the utterance or gnome expressing an observation, the gnome conveying prudential advice, and the gnome teaching a moral point—remains useful in the Ara­bic and Persian contexts.12 Many examples treat virtues and vices; a common formula is the definition, often proffered in response to a question: A sage was asked, “What constitutes wealth?” He replied, “Contentment.” Next, he was asked, “What constitutes passionate love (eshq)?” “Sickness of the soul, and unwillingness to die,” he answered. A sage once said, “The essence of greatness lies in taking trouble; the essence of error lies in acting in haste; and the essence of pettiness lies in being mean-spirited.”13

At least as common are injunctions, sometimes supported with cautionary exhortations: Speak the truth, though it be bitter; and if you wish your enemy not to know your secret, then do not divulge it to your friend. If you wish people to speak well of you, then speak well of other people.14

Some examples invoke divine stipulations and religious principles: 11 Ghazâli, Nasihat al-moluk, pp. 104, 129, tr., pp. 58, 75. 12 Mary Boyce, “Middle Persian Literature,” in HdO, IV, p. 51. 13 Ghazâli, Nasihat al-moluk, pp. 230, 233, tr., pp. 139, 141. 14 Ascribed to Anushervan in Key-Kâvus b. Eskandar, Qâbus-nâme, pp. 52– 53 (maxims 10, 11, 32), tr., pp. 46–47.

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PERSIAN PROSE Recognize the value of your life as the profession of the divine unity. Make godliness your provision for the afterlife. Know that right belief is a treasure that is never exhausted.15

Several maxims discuss wealth and poverty, gratitude and ingratitude, justice and injustice, and other pairings of opposites: Just as justice renders the world prosperous, so injustice brings it into ruin. The best of kings is he who turns the bad practices in his kingdom into good ones, and the worst of kings is he who turns good practices into bad ones.16

A fairly large number of maxims deal with kingship and governance. For the most part, however, sententiae convey a wisdom that held meaning for everyone. The prevalence in the aphoristic literature of the figure of the king arose less from the particular relevance to kings of moral instruction than from the especially compelling illustrations of universal truths (the virtues of humility, patience; the perils of ingratitude, arrogance) that kings could provide for the benefit of all of humanity. In the Persian (and indeed also the Ara­bic) literary cultures, wise maxims functioned in several ways. Often compiled in written collections, they also circulated orally, and they retained an important performative role. The ability to produce an appropriate quotation—whether a proverbial statement or an edifying verse of poetry—constituted an essential qualification for access to the society of the educated élites, for participation in courtly gatherings and keeping the company of the powerful, and for administrative and secretarial service. It was a particular mark of wit to be able not only to cite a pertinent aphorism but also to produce, in extemporaneous fashion, a modified, elaborated, or versified counterpart

15 Pand-nâme-ye Mâtoridi, ed. Iraj Afshâr, Farhang‑e Irân-zamin 9 (1961), p. 49. 16 Ascribed to Ahnaf b. Qeys and Alexander respectively; Ghazâli, Nasihat al-moluk, pp. 153, 159, tr., pp. 92, 96.

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or riposte to it.17 It was a particular hallmark of virtuosity to possess bilingual mastery of the moralistic repertoire—to be able to adduce and coin appropriate maxims in both Ara­bic and Persian, and even to combine the two languages in single maxims. Part of the meaning of a maxim lay in its attachment to an esteemed figure of the past. Aristotle, Ardashir, Anushervan, Bozorgmehr, and Loqmân appear frequently as exponents of wise sayings, and sometimes as “authors” of collections of such pronouncements. Although these attributions are not entirely stable, they are not arbitrary either. Of special interest is the collection known as Piruzi-nâme or Zafar-nâme (Book of Victory) ascribed to Bozorgmehr, who reportedly composed it in response to Anushervan’s request for “a work of counsels, concise in words but ample in meaning, of utility in this world and the next.” According to a report, Abu-Ali Ebn-Sinâ (d. 1037), at the behest of the Samanid Amir Nuh b. Mansur (r. 976–97), translated Bozorgmehr’s Piruzi-nâmak from Pahlavi into Persian. Reiterating patterns common in Pahlavi works of andarz, the Zafar-nâme opens with five statements, each structured on the number five: five things that derive solely from decree and destiny, and to attain which the servant’s efforts will be to no avail; five things that are attainable by the servant’s earnest striving and effort; five things that are innate; five things that are habitual, or formed by habit; and five things that are hereditary. The text then adopts the form of question-and-­ response, with Bozorgmehr in either the inquiring or the responding role, depending on the transmitted text.18 With the appearance in the 9th century (Ara­bic) and the 10th or early 11th century (Persian) of collections of maxims, numbers supply one of the principal devices for the selection and arrangement of sententiae. Often designated by the names kherad-nâme, zafar-­ nâme, or pand-nâme, the Persian collections record set numbers 17

For examples of such improvisation, see Mohsen Zakeri, “The Literary Use of Proverbs and Myths in Nāṣir-i Khusrau’s Dīvān,” in Julia Rubanovich, ed., Orality and Textuality in the Iranian World (Leiden, 2015), pp. 289–306. 18 Gholâm-Hosayn Sadiqi, Zafar-nâme mansub be-Sheykh‑e Ra’is‑e AbuAli Sinâ (Hamadan, 2004); Hamd-Allâh Mostowfi Qazvini, Târikh‑e gozide, ed. Abd-al-Hoseyn Navâʾi (Tehran, 1960), pp. 67–70.

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of ten, thirty, forty, or one hundred pronouncements; internally, these utterances are often subdivided or grouped according to speaker or theme. Among the earliest collections to be linked with a contemporary authority rather than with the venerated figures of antiquity is the Pand-nâme-ye Mâtoridi (Mâtoridi’s Book of Counsels), which, while compiled later than the early tenth-century date implied by its attribution (Mâtoridi is reported to have died in 943, 944, or 947), almost certainly preserves older materials. This Pand-nâme consists of ten chapters, unequal in length, each of which contains a number of terse homiletic aphorisms, grouped loosely according to theme.19 The association of this Pand-nâme with Mâtoridi points to the Transoxanian and Khorasanian context for the generation of the first ethical and exhortative writings in Persian. The same environment saw the composition of edifying and instructive poetry, including the Âfarin-nâme (completed in 947) of Abu-Shakur Balkhi, and, in the same meter of motaqâreb, the Shâh-nâme of Ferdowsi (completed in 1010).20 Ferdowsi’s Shâh-nâme rapidly assumed the status of a universal “mirror for princes,” its verses providing eloquent counsel and commentary in subsequent advisory and historiographical writings, and its evocative meter adopted in numerous later works.21 Of particular importance in the development of this repertoire of maxims, in Ara­bic and Persian, is the figure of Ali b. Abi-Tâleb, who acquires an unparalleled reputation for his combining of surpassing wisdom with supreme eloquence. Among the earliest examples of the collection of one hundred sayings—a popular genre in both languages—is the Miʾe kaleme, compiled in Ara­bic 19 Pand-nâme-ye Mâtoridi (see above, n. 15). 20 Gilbert Lazard, Les premiers poètes persans (IXe –Xe siècles) (2 vols., Tehran, 1964), I, pp. 91–109; Dhabih-Allâh Ṣafâ, TADI, I, pp. 369, 403–8. 21 Nasrin Askari, The Medieval Reception of the Shāhnāma as a Mirror for Princes (Leiden, 2016); Julie Scott Meisami, “The Šâh-nâme as Mirror for Princes: A Study in Reception,” Pand-o Sokhan (1995), pp. 265–73; Charles Melville, “Between Firdausī and Rashīd al-Dīn: Persian Verse Chronicles of the Mongol Period,” Studia Islamica 104–5 (2007), pp. 45–65.

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by Jâhez (d. 868) and subsequently rendered into Persian as Sad kaleme (One Hundred Sayings), a formula that provided the foundation for numerous elaborations in poetry and prose. The moralizing literature associated with Ali prompted a high degree of Ara­ bic and Persian interaction; since Ali’s words were in Ara­bic, and their inspired quality rendered their transmission in the original Ara­bic essential, these collections often included translations into Persian, and sometimes commentary in Persian. Rashid-al-Din Vatvât (d. ca. 1182), well known for his bilingual virtuosity, produced a celebrated commentary to accompany Ara­bic and Persian versions of one hundred of Ali’s sayings in Matlub koll tâleb men kalâm Ali b. Abi-Tâleb (Every Searcher’s Goal: From the Sayings of Ali b. Abi-Tâleb). Several collections devote sections to the utterances of different individuals, including Ali, whose sayings often appear in particularly prominent positions. An important example, which acknowledges and follows Vatvât’s collection, is the Barid al-sa’âde (Messenger of Happiness) of Mohammad‑e Ghâzi Malatyavi, a secretary and later vizier, whose composition was commissioned in 1212 by the Rum Saljuq ruler Ezz-al-Din Keykâʾus I b. Key­ khosrow (r. 1210–19). This work consists of extended commentary on, first, forty Prophetic Hadiths selected for their appropriateness for kings and governance, followed by forty sayings of the Prophet’s Companions, in which sets of ten are drawn from each of the Râshidun caliphs, ending with Ali b. Abi-Tâleb, and finally twenty Ara­bic proverbs. The forty Prophetic reports also reflect a certain internal thematic differentiation. Concluding his first set of ten citations with the Hadith, “Religion is sincere counsel” (aldin al-nasihe), Malatyavi declares that it marks the end of his first section, devoted to the topic of counsel (nasihat). Other Hadith selected for this royal collection are, “The ruler is the shadow of God on earth; with him, every wronged person takes refuge,” and “Consultation is a stronghold against regret and a security against rebuke.” Malatyavi translates each pronouncement into Persian. Next, he explicates its relevance to kings, often by means of a narrative, which may involve a named individual (Ali, Qâbus, Azod-alDowle, Toghrel), and may bear a rough geographical identification 107

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(Samarqand, Shiraz, Sarakhs, Mazandaran), but which often proceeds in a highly generalized fashion (for example, “As they have related: once upon a time in the distant past there was a king …”). The author concludes each section with a two-line qet’e (poetic fragment) in Persian.22 A somewhat similar, possibly earlier, collection is the Kheradnâme-ye jân-afruz (The Soul-Kindling Book of Wisdom) (or Kheradnamâ-ye jân-afruz, The Soul-Kindling Guide to Wisdom) of the otherwise unknown Abu’l-Fazl Yusof b. Ali Mostowfi. This work, which perhaps dates from the late 11th or early 12th century, following Vatvât, treats one hundred topics, loosely organized into thematic sections. For each topic, the author adduces three citations: the first is drawn from a sage of antiquity, such as Bozorgmehr, Socrates, Plato, Aristotle, Alexander, or Anushervan, or from a Muslim source, such as one of the esteemed figures of the early Islamic period, a caliph, or a later authority; the second is drawn from the sayings of Ali (also cited four times in the first section); and the third is drawn from Ferdowsi’s Shâh-nâme. Although the author did not dedicate his collection to a named individual, his introduction suggests that, like Barid al-sa’âde, he intended it for a courtly audience, for whom fitting words (sokhan‑e khub) and fine speech (goftâr‑e latif) were essential; the first ten topics concern kings, and the topics that follow concern the figures who serve the king. Perhaps echoing the opening verse of Ferdowsi’s Shâh-nâme, Mostowfi’s first topic is wisdom (kherad). In suggestive indications of this collection’s reception among later readers, it appears in one manuscript copy in the margin of Nasir-al-Din of Tus’s Akhlâq‑e Nâseri, and in another manuscript, in the margin of a copy of Kalile va Demne.23 Also consisting largely of annotated utterances of illustrious figures, presented in roughly chronological order from the primordial king Jamshid to the Saljuq Sultan Sanjar b. Malekshâh (r. 1118–57), 22 Malatyavi, Barid al-sa’ âde, ed. M. Shirvâni (Tehran, 1972), pp. 40–45, 87– 90, 100–103, 19. 23 Abu’l-Fazl Yusof b. Ali Mostawfi, Kheradnâma-ye jân-afruz, ed. Mahmud Âbedi (Tehran, 1989), pp. 2–3; see also “Moqaddeme-ye mosahheh” (Editor’s Introduction), p. xix.

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is the Aghrâz al-siyâse fi a’râz al-riyâse (The Goals of Governance: On the Characteristics of Leadership) of Zahiri of Samarqand (Mohammad b. Ali Zahiri-Samarqandi), director of the chancellery under the Karakhanid ruler Rokn-al-Din Abu’l-Mozaffar Kılıç Tamğâç Khâqân b. Jalâl-al-Din (r. 1161–71), to whom he dedicated the book. Zahiri devotes a chapter to each of seventy-four male figures, drawn from the legendary kings of Iran and Turan (including Faridun and Afrâsiyâb); the heroic figures of Dastân (= Zâl) and Rostam; Darius (Dârâb) the Elder and the Younger, and ­Alexander; Ptolemy, Plato, and Aristotle; Kings of India, China, and the Khazars; the Parthians Ardavân the Elder and the Younger; the Sasanians (including Ardashir and Anushervan); No’mân b. Mondher; the prophets Yusof, Solaymân, and Mohammad; the four Rashidun caliphs; figures of the Umayyad period, Abu-Moslem, and several members of the Abbasid dynasty (from the caliphs al-Saffâh [r. 749–54] to al-Moktafi [r. 902–8] and the prince-poet Ebn-al-Mo’tazz [908]); the Saffarids Ya’qub and Amr b. Leyth; the Samanids Esmâ’il b. Ahmad and Nasr b. Ahmad; the Buyid Azodal-Dowle; Sultan Mahmud of Ghazna; and the Saljuq rulers Alp Arslân, Malekshâh, and Sanjar.24 Zahiri opens each chapter with a brief biographical introduction, and occasionally he includes short narratives at later points. His main focus in each chapter, however, is on the selected statements, always reproduced in Ara­bic, that he adduces for each figure. After each statement, he provides a Persian translation, followed by further interpretation and discussion; frequently, he weaves verses of poetry into his treatment of each dictum. The chronological arrangement of the Aghrâz al-siyâse illustrates the close interplay of advisory and edificatory literature with historiography. It is continuous, indeed, with Ferdowsi’s Shâh-nâme, which proceeds in a similar fashion, arranged by dynasty and by reign, and which includes copious wise utterances, royal addresses, and edifying or exhortative speeches. The great scientist, theologian, and ethicist Nasir-al-Din of Tus (1201–74), whose Akhlâq‑e Nâseri will be discussed in Section 5, 24 Mohammad b. Ali Zahiri-Samarqandi, Aghrâz al-siyâse fi a’râz al-riyâse, ed. Ja’far She’âr (Tehran, 1970), pp. 4–5, 19.

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also composed, for his Ismaili patron (mohtasham) Nâser-al-Din Abd-al-Rahim b. Abi-Mansur (r. 1224–57), a collection of moral pronouncements, the Akhlâq‑e Mohtashami. In forty chapters, each dedicated to a moral quality, a meritorious attribute, a virtue or the perils of a vice, Nasir-al-Din adduces a series of Ara­bic statements, followed by their translations into Persian. Other than the Qur’anic verses with which he invariably begins each chapter, he rarely identifies the exponents of the selected statements, which are nevertheless arranged in a hierarchical fashion, drawn from, first, the Qurʾan; next, the Prophet, Ali and the Shiite imams; and finally Muslim or non-Muslim sages and figures of the Ismaili tradition (al-hokamâ va’l-do’ât).25 These collections of wise sententiae, which continued to engage an appreciative audience over many centuries, display an increasingly prominent authorial presence. The authors of collections elaborated their selections of utterances with translations, interpretations, and reflections, as they addressed different audiences and interests. Charles-Henri de Fouchécour has rightly noted the development in this literature of an encyclopedic quality, which finds a parallel in other branches of moral expression, such as mirrors for princes.26 As important as the numerous collections of sententiae is the incorporation of single maxims into longer discursive advisory texts. Writers in all branches of moral writing, including mirrors for princes and ethical-philosophical works, included maxims, sometimes integrated into the flow of their arguments and sometimes set aside in separate locations. Authors employed maxims for semantic purposes—to point out meanings in an authoritative fashion; for structural purposes—to effect transitions between different parts of their texts, and to provide neat conclusions to their treatments of a given topic before introducing a new theme; and for aesthetic purposes—to vary the register of their compositions, just as they frequently mixed prose with poetry. In their treatment of 25 Nasir-al-Din Tusi, Akhlâq‑e Mohtashami, ed. M. T. Dâneshpazhuh (Tehran, 1960). 26 De Fouchécour, Moralia, p. 149.

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specific topics, many authors cited numbers of maxims, ascribed to a variety of figures—as several of the previously mentioned examples already demonstrate, numerous authors of moralia combine the dicta of Alexander, Ardashir, and Anushervan with the words of ancient sages, prophets, and revered figures of the early Islamic period—in order to substantiate their arguments and to provide their audiences with multiple modes of access to their texts. This feature, as Section 4 will illustrate further, is especially prevalent in the extended, often book-length advisory texts known as “mirrors for princes.”

3. Collections of Narratives and Cycles of Stories A second literary vehicle for the conveyance of advice is the narrative. The telling of a story is a frequently chosen mechanism for the pointing of a moral, which is sometimes articulated in explicit terms, and often implied, by, for example, its placement in a particular literary or a social context. The literature of Persian prose includes numerous collections of stories, which are often presented as ethical and instructive in their purpose. Equally, authors in a variety of advisory genres availed themselves of single, often short narratives, through which they explore moral themes. Fictional and historical narratives alike lent themselves to instructive purposes; historical narratives, furthermore, provided compelling subject matter for the exploration of ethical principles and the meaningfulness of history. The combination of narrative, verse and maxim finds exquisite realization in the moralia of Sa’di of Shiraz (d. 1292), whose collections the Bustân, a ten-chapter mathnavi comprising some 4,100 couplets, and the Golestân, an eight-chapter prosimetric composition, will be discussed in Section III. Probably the best-known and most broadly transmitted example of the collection of instructive stories is Kalile va Demne.27 Like several other collections, Kalile va Demne assumed numerous 27 See above, n. 7. See further Chapter 1, “Genres of Prose,” and Chapter 9, Section 5, “One Thousand and One Nights and Similar Books.”

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forms as it passed into and circulated within various linguistic cultures, and as it moved between prose and poetry. The Sendbâd-nâme and the Bakhtiyâr-nâme, the linguistic antecedents or backgrounds to which are uncertain, similarly passed in adapted forms from language to language, often furnishing authors with materials for moral expression. The former collection, from the 10th century onwards, circulated in Persian in several versions, and from the 12th and 13th centuries, its stories provided exempla for the use of preachers. Like the Ara­bic Alf layle va layle (Thousand and One Nights), the prefaces to these collections of fictional texts frequently present them as vehicles of moral instruction; it is possible, perhaps likely, that these claims reflect in part an anxiety on the part of the translator, storyteller or copyist regarding the value of fictional tales. At least for the modern reader, the inferences to be drawn from the stories are not always entirely self-evident; the stated purpose of moral education nevertheless provided a sufficient justification for a vast and varied corpus of literary production in Persian.28 Many collections of edifying narratives, like Sa’di’s Bustân and Golestân, were dedicated to political figures, whose patronage the authors either received or sought. This context accounts in part for the presentation of these collections as explicit conveyances of political advice and moral education. The Sendbâdh-nâme of Zahiri of Samarqand, dedicated, like the same author’s previously discussed Aghrâz al-siyâse, to the Karakhanid Abu’l-Mozaffar Kılıç Tamğâç Khâqân (r. 1161–71), provides an example. In his preface, Zahiri articulates the ideal, frequently expounded as the conceptual 28 The complex, sometimes perplexing nature of the lessons implied in authors’ narratives has been highlighted in Christine van Ruymbeke, “Dimna’s Trial and Apologia in Kāshifī’s Anvār-i Suhaylī. Morality’s Place in the Corrupt Trial of a Rhetorical and Dialectical Genius,” JRAS 26 (2016), pp. 549–83; idem, “What Is It That Khusraw Learns from the Kalīla-Dimna Stories?” in Johann-Christoph Bürgel and Christine van Ruymbeke, eds., A Key to the Treasure of the Hakīm: Artistic and Humanistic Aspects of Nizāmī Ganjavī’s Khamsa (Leiden, 2011), pp. 145–66; Neguin Yavari, “Mirrors for Princes or a Hall of Mirrors? Niẓām al-Mulk’s Siyar al-mulūk Reconsidered,” al-Masāq 20 (2008), pp. 47–69; idem, Advice for the Sultan, pp. 45– 60, 109–42.

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foundation for offerings of political advice in Persian contexts, of mutual support between the realms of religion and kingship. He emphasizes the complementary pairings of prophetic law and royal justice, religious knowledge and experiential wisdom, prophethood (nobovvat) and power (saltanat), leadership (riyâsat) and governance (siyâsat)—pairings that represent examples of the divine wisdom, since “the pen without the sword, and knowledge without action are of no use” (qalam bi shamshir vavelm bi amal nâ-mofid bovad). Zahiri attributes to the Prophet the maxim, “Religion and sovereignty are twins” (al-din va’l-molk to’amân) (frequently attributed to Ardashir). His invocation of the maxim, “The ruler is the shadow of God on earth; in him, each oppressed person takes refuge” (al-soltân zell Allâh fi’l-arz ya’vi eleyhe koll mazlum), which he also ascribes to the Prophet, provides a vehicle for the transition to praise of his patron, among whose laudatory epithets he includes the phrase zell Allâh fi’l-arzeyn (“Shadow of God in both worlds”).29 Introducing his text, Zahiri describes his encounter with a personified Sa’âdat, “Felicity.” Sa’âdat prompted him to avail himself of the “treasury of wisdom” (khazâne-ye kherad) preserved in the Book of Sendbâd, which had been prepared by the sage philosophers of the (ancient) Persian peoples (hokamâ-ye ajam). In Zahiri’s account, the book had remained in the Pahlavi language until, in 950, the Samanid Amir Nuh I b. Nasr (r. 943–54) had ordered its translation, at the hands of his vizier Khwâja Amid Abu’l-Favâres Fanâruzi, into Persian. Although Abu’l-Favâres had, in accordance with his commission, produced a “corrected” version, his Persian text suffered neglect in the course of time, until Sa’âdat’s calling upon the present author to revive it for the lasting remembrance of his generous patron.30 The frame-tale of Zahiri’s Sendbâd-nâme, a repository for its stories, reiterates the royal virtues of invariable justice, constant vigilance and personal self-control. Late in life, Kurdis, an 29 Zahiri-Samarqandi, Sendbâd-nâme, ed. Ahmed Ateş as Sindbāḍ-nāme: Arapça Sinbād-nāme ile birlikte (Istanbul, 1948), pp. 3–5. 30 Sendbâd-nâme, pp. 21–30.

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exceptionally just and virtuous king of Hindustan, had engendered a male heir. When he sought a suitable teacher for his son, the seven wise viziers selected for the task, finding the young prince’s horoscope inauspicious, despaired; among them, only Sendbâd agreed to undertake the prince’s instruction. As part of his charge, Sendbâd committed the prince to a seven-day period of silence. During this week, one of Kurdis’s wives accused the prince of attempting to seduce her, and the prince, unable to speak in his own defense, is sentenced to death. The seven viziers contrived to delay the execution by the daily recounting of tales, until, when his seven days of silence were completed, the prince was able to exculpate himself, and, in a demonstration of the successful results of his moral learning, pardoned his accuser. The Marzbân-nâme (or Marzobân-nâme) of Sa’d-al-Din Varâvini, who dedicated his text to the vizier of Atabeg Uzbek b. Nosrat-al-Din Pahlavân Mohammad (r. 1210–25) of Azerbaijan, provides another example of a collection of cautionary stories offered ostensibly as part of a project of political edification. The Marzbân-nâme, itself a didactic vehicle, invokes numerous tropes that signify a didactic intent. The frame-tale, in Varâvini’s version, establishes the dilemma to which the moralizing stories respond. At his death, Sharvin, a nephew of Anushervan, left five sons, all fit for sovereignty. When the oath of allegiance went to the eldest of the five, his younger brothers became jealous. Of the remaining brothers, only Marzbân refrained from plotting against the new king; instead, he decided to retreat into seclusion. On hearing of Marzbân’s decision, a group of nobles addressed him, saying, “If it is certain that you must leave here, compose a book containing choice bits of wisdom and beneficial sagacity, so that we can have it as our guide for the sake of well-being in this world and (a fortunate) return in the next.” When Marzbân reported this initiative to the king, the latter consulted his vizier, who intrigued against Marzbân. Marzbân responded to the vizier’s interrogations with a surpassing repertoire of maxims, proverbs, and anecdotes. Convinced of Marzbân’s sincerity, the king recognized the vizier’s treacherous machinations and allowed Marzbân to compose his work—the Marzbân-nâme, which, eight hundred years 114

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later, Varâvini was able to refresh, thanks to the (current) vizier’s patronage.31 The maxim and the narrative constituted two central elements in the development of advisory discourses in Persian. They also formed, as the previous sections have indicated, in themselves the bases of advisory genres. The fourth and fifth sections of this chapter discuss two modes of didactic writing, the mirror for princes and the ethical treatise, to which the maxim and the narrative contribute, but which also exhibit wholly distinctive characteristics.

4. Mirrors for Princes The term “mirror for princes,” adopted from its usage in the medieval Latin and vernacular European linguistic contexts, denotes here the corresponding, and very extensive, literature of advice for rulers in Persian. Like the collections of counsels and stories discussed in the preceding sections, this type of advisory literature also displays a close interaction between the Ara­bic and Persian, as well as, in this case, the Turkish, corpora. Before the composition in the later part of the 11th century of the first full-length mirrors in Persian (the Qâbus-nâme [1082] and Siyar al-moluk [Conduct of Kings, 1086–91]), authors whose mother tongue was almost certainly Persian, such as Tha’âlibi (961–1038), had composed such books in Ara­bic, and these writings constituted important points of reference, even as the Persian mirror literature would develop a distinct trajectory. Yusof Khâss Hâjeb, moreover, had composed his versified allegory Kutadgu bilig (Wisdom of Royal Glory, 1069), a mirror dedicated to the Karakhanid prince, Tavǧaç Kara Buǧra Khan (Hasan b. Solaymân, r. 1074–1102), in Turkish. The Ara­bic works of Tha’âlibi and the Turkish Kutadgu bilig composed in Kashghar reflect environments shaped by Perso-Islamic concepts of political culture.

31

Sa’d-al-Din Varâvini, Marzbân-nâme, ed. M. Rowshan (Tehran, 1988).

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The dedicatees of mirrors, like the addressees of panegyrics, reflected prevailing conditions of power and patronage. Many authors addressed their mirrors to highly placed local political figures or to viziers, and the rededication of mirrors to successive patrons became common practice. Notwithstanding the implicit presumption that the royal recipient of a mirror stood in need of moral edification, the receipt of a mirror also contributed to the ruler’s moral stature. The ruler’s act—symbolized by his acceptance of the mirror—of listening attentively to advice and exhortation constituted in itself a legitimating practice. Records suggest that some rulers indeed strived to emulate their admired forbears, whose exemplary conduct had been relayed through instructive advisory discourses.32 The lessons of mirrors, however, were intended not only for kings, princes, atabegs, and viziers, but also for the entire courtly population, if not, indeed, for groups beyond the court. Mirror-writers frequently devoted sections or chapters of their books to the qualities of, requirements for and responsibilities of various professional groups active in and sometimes beyond courtly settings, such as boon companions, secretaries, poets, astronomers, and physicians—the last four of these groups were identified in the early 12th-century Chahâr maqâle of Nezâmi Aruzi Samarqandi as essential to the king.33 At least some mirror-like writings appear to have envisaged a female courtly audience.34 Mirrors for princes exhibit a certain consistency in their subject matter. Among the topics most commonly encountered in mirrors are the indispensability of personal virtue in the ruler, on whose sound governance the well-being of all his subjects, entrusted to his care by God, depends; the centrality of justice to the harmonious working of all components of the realm; the need for the ruler 32 Cf. Ali Anooshahr, The Ghazi Sultans and the Frontiers of Islam (London, 2009), p. 10. 33 Nezâmi Samarqandi, Chahâr maqâle, ed. Mohammad Mo’in (Tehran, 1952), p. 19; cf. Ashk P. Dahlén, “Kingship and Religion in a Mediaeval Fürstenspiegel: The Case of the Chahār Maqāla of Ni ̇żāmī ʿArūẓī,” Orientalia Suecana 58 (2009), pp. 9–24. 34 Nasrin Askari, “A Mirror for Princesses: Mūnis-nāma, A Twelfth-Century Collection of Persian Tales,” Narrative Culture 5 (2018), pp. 121–40.

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to uphold the religious law and abide by it in his rulings and in his personal conduct; the importance of his cultivation of learning and his patronage of the learned; the imperative of his soliciting of advice from scholars and sages, and his paying heed to their counsels; the necessity of his control of his temper and his restraint from the meting out of punishments in haste; and the incalculable benefits to him and his subjects of his study of the ways of past kings.35 If these topics and themes recur across numerous strands of advisory literature, mirrors are, at the same time, in many cases highly individual texts; all of them reflect and respond to the particular circumstances in which they were written. Authors of mirrors themselves hailed from a variety of backgrounds: some were rulers, such as Key-Kâvus b. Eskandar (r. 1049–87), or viziers, such as Nezâmal-Molk (1019–92); many were administrators or secretaries; some were religious scholars, jurists, judges, theologians, and preachers, such as Ghazâli (1058–1111); some were Sufis, some philosophers, and others men of letters. The mirrors that have garnered most attention, among medieval and modern readers alike, tend to be those by or ascribed to prominent and celebrated figures, whose actual authorship of the works attributed to them modern scholars have quite frequently called into question.36 The earliest mirrors in Persian take the form of testaments, that is, compositions drafted in the voice of an elderly, experienced ruler for his son and assumed successor. An early example of this genre 35 On the enduring theme of justice, see A. K. S. Lambton, “Justice in the Medieval Persian Theory of Kingship,” Studia Islamica 17 (1962), pp. 91–119; idem, “Changing Concepts of Justice and Injustice from the 5 th /11 th to the 8 th /14 th Century in Persia: The Saljuq Empire and the Ilkhanate,” Studia Islamica 68 (1988), pp. 27–60; Maria Eva Subtelny, Le monde est un jardin: Aspects de l’histoire culturelle de l’Iran médiéval (Paris, 2002), pp. 53–76; Said Arjomand, “Medieval Persianate Political Ethic,” Studies on Persianate Societies 1 (2003), pp. 3–28; Linda T. Darling, “‘Do Justice, Do Justice, For That Is Paradise’: Middle Eastern Advice for Indian Muslim Rulers,” Comparative Studies of South Asia, Africa and the Middle East 22 (2002), pp. 3–19. 36 Stefan Leder, “Aspekte arabischer und persischer Fürstenspiegel: Legitimation, Fürstenethik, politische Vernunft,” in Angela de Benedictis, ed., Spe­ cula principum (Frankfurt, 1999), pp. 21–50.

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is the Pand-nâme (Book of Advice) attributed to the founder of the Ghaznavid dynasty, Sebuktigin (r. 977–97), and usually assumed to date from the reign of his son, Sultan Mahmud (r. 998–1030). This work addresses a number of themes common to the Persian mirror literature: the use of spies, the treatment of the army, the need for everybody to pursue a specific task, the centrality of justice to the prosperity of the realm, and the maintenance of rulership. Unlike later mirrors, this Pand-nâme includes few quotations or narratives.37 In its presentation, the celebrated Qâbus-nâme (1082) of Key-Kâvus b. Eskandar also takes the form of a testament. At the age of sixty-three, Key-Kâvus, the Ziyarid ruler of Gorgan and Tabarestan, composed the work for his son Gilânshâh, whom, in keeping with the style of the testament, the father-author addresses directly. Key-Kâvus’s purpose in writing was to prepare his son not only for rulership but also for life—including for certain professions that he might adopt should he not, in fact, succeed to the throne. In comparison with earlier testaments, Key-Kâvus’s work is very much longer; in forty-four thematically identified chapters, it is virtually encyclopedic in its scope. The sequence of the chapters reflects three conceptual divisions, which correspond approximately to the areas of personal, domestic, and political morality. Chapters 1–7 cover knowledge of God, the prophets, gratitude, and obedience, relations with parents, the cultivation of accomplishments, and speech. Chapter 8 records fifty-eight maxims reportedly inscribed on the wall of Anushervan’s tomb; constituting a transitional chapter between the first and second sections of the Qâbus-nâme, this “Record of the Counsels of Anushervan” marks the close relationship between collections of sententiae and the discursive prose of the mirror for princes.38 Chapters 9–30 address the rules of social comportment. Beginning with a discussion of age and youth, Key-Kâvus proceeds to explicate the etiquette of eating, wine-drinking, hospitality; jesting, backgammon, and chess; love, pleasure, bathing, sleep, and rest; hunting, polo, warfare; the 37 M. Nazim, “The Pand-namah of Subuktigin,” JRAS (1933), pp. 605–28. 38 Key-Kâvus b. Eskandar, Qâbus-nâme, pp. 51–55, tr., pp. 45–48.

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acquisition of wealth and the safeguarding of trusts; the purchase of slaves, houses, and estates; horses; marriage, the raising of children, the choosing of friends, and the mindfulness of enemies, punishment, and forgiveness. Chapters 31–43 cover the professional lives of the student, jurist, and teacher, the conduct of commerce, the sciences of medicine, astronomy, and geometry, the conduct of the poet and musician, royal service, the careers of the boon companion, secretary, vizier, and commander of the army, and the practice of agriculture and craftsmanship. The final, long chapter, which marks the culmination of Key-Kâvus’s mirror, treats the quality of javânmardi (chivalry), which, grounded in wisdom (kherad), honesty (râsti), and manly virtue (mardi), earns its possessor a good reputation in this life and a reward in the next. Often noted for its pragmatism, the Qâbus-nâme also exhibits a strong sense of propriety; encouraging moderation, kindness, and the avoidance of harm, Key-Kâvus guides his audience towards the worthiest response in a variety of contingencies.39 Key-Kâvus makes extensive use of verses of poetry and maxims, in both Ara­ bic and Persian, in order to ascribe meanings to the experiences that have comprised his life. He also relates fifty narratives (hekâyât), several of which involve not the paradigmatic figures of the remote past but near-contemporaries of the author, who witnessed a number of the episodes that he describes. It was, as previously noted, under the Great Saljuqs that the use of Persian became established in the formerly Buyid domains of Iraq and western Iran. A celebrated advisory text and its remarkable author featured visibly in this process. Nezâm-al-Molk (d. 1092), vizier to the Saljuq rulers Alp Arslân (r. 1063–72) and Malekshâh (r. 1072–92), wrote his Siyar al-moluk (Conduct of Kings), also known as Siyâsat-nâme (Book of Governance), at the behest of Sultan Malekshâh. Since Bert Fragner has contributed a detailed account and interpretation of this book elsewhere in this

39 De Fouchécour, Moralia, pp. 184–222; Soheila Amirsoleimani, “Of This World and the Next: Metaphors and Meanings in the Qābūs-nāmah,” IrSt 35 (2002), pp. 1–22.

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volume, only a few remarks will be made here.40 The work, which, as several scholars have shown, is as much historiographical and political-philosophical as it is “ethical,” was written in two parts, apparently at different periods of the author’s career. According to Nezâm-al-Molk’s own account, Malekshâh solicited, in 1086 or 1091, a treatise on governance, and approved of Nezâm-al-Molk’s submission of thirty-nine chapters. Later, the vizier reportedly composed an additional eleven, considerably darker, chapters, so that in its final form Siyar al-moluk consisted of a total of fifty chapters. It appears that the final, more critical text was never presented to Malekshâh, who died a mere month after the assassination of Nezâm-al-Molk. Siyar al-moluk reflects Nezâm-al-Molk’s substantial administrative experience, and it offers advice on specific governmental and court-related problems. One of the most striking aspects of the text is Nezâm-al-Molk’s deployment less of maxims than of extended historical narratives. Drawn from Sasanian, Islamic and Iranian subjects and usually involving fully historical figures, Nezâm-al-Molk’s narratives present his interpretation of history, shaped, like other historiographical writings, in accordance with his didactic intentions.41 Nezâm-al-Molk’s illustrious contemporary and a fellow native of Tus in Khorasan, the scholar, theologian, and polymath AbuHâmed Ghazâli (1058–1111) wrote a number of advisory works, in Ara­bic and Persian. Sometimes addressing rulers and in other cases addressing a general audience, Ghazâli composed two works of this kind in Persian. The first of the Persian pair is Kimiyâ-ye sa’âdat (Alchemy of Happiness), Ghazâli’s Persian abridgement and adaptation of his Ehyâ’ olum al-din (Revivification of the Religious Sciences), addressed to the common people. Like its Ara­bic 40 See Chapter 7. Additionally, among the many publications dedicated to Nezâm-al-Molk and to Siyar al-moluk, see especially Yavari, Advice for the Sultan; idem, The Future of Iran’s Past. 41 See Yavari, Advice for the Sultan; idem, Future of Iran’s Past; Julie Scott Meisami, Persian Historiography to the End of the Twelfth Century (Edinburgh, 1999), pp. 145–62; Marta Simidchieva, “Kingship and Legitimacy as Reflected in Niẓām al-Mulk’s Siyāsatnāma, Fifth/Eleventh Century,” in B. Gruendler and L. Marlow, eds., Writers and Rulers (Wiesbaden, 2004), pp. 97–131.

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predecessor, the Kimiyâ is structured according to four headings (knowledge of the self, knowledge of God, knowledge of this world, and knowledge of the world to come) and four pillars (acts of worship, social transactions, the removal of impediments to religion, and personal prayers). Among the materials not found in the Ehyâ’ is a mirror, homiletic in tone and reflecting a Sufi-inflected conceptual and social environment. In this mirror, Ghazâli sets forth ten instructions for rulers. Supported with numerous Prophetic pronouncements, these instructions stress the necessity of justice and the perils of injustice (“A single day in the life of a just ruler is better than sixty years’ continuous worship,” in the Prophet’s words); they admonish the ruler not to be preoccupied with the satisfaction of his desires, nor to seek to satisfy any person if to do so would involve transgression of the religious law; and to seek avidly the advice of pious scholars. Throughout the text, Caliph Omar provides an example of a ruler whose justice displayed the practical performance of his faith.42 The second of Ghazâli’s political-advisory compositions in Persian is the Nasihat al-moluk (Counsel for Kings). Composed for either Mohammad b. Malekshâh (r. 1105–18) or his brother Sanjar (r. 1097–1157 in eastern Iran; 1118–57 throughout the Saljuq dominions), this well-known treatise consists of two parts. Only the first part, which bears a marked resemblance to the mirror contained in the Kimiyâ, is clearly the work of Ghazâli; the authorship of the second part is a matter of scholarly dispute, with strong arguments advanced for its composition by an individual other than Ghazâli.43 Whatever its initial genesis, this two-part mirror has, in fact, experienced a long history of reception as a Ghazâlian text: its two parts were already conjoined in the second half of the 12th 42 Ghazâli, Kimiyâ-ye sa’ âdat, ed. A. Ârâm (2 vols. in 1, Tehran, 1966), I, pp. 481–98; Carole Hillenbrand, “Islamic Orthodoxy or Realpolitik? AlGhazālī’s Views on Government,” Iran 26 (1988), 90–92; de Fouchécour, Moralia, pp. 223–51. 43 Patricia Crone, “Did al-Ghazālī Write a Mirror for Princes? On the Authorship of Naṣīḥat al-mulūk,” JSAI 10 (1987), pp. 167–91; C. Hillenbrand, “Islamic Orthodoxy or Realpolitik?,” p. 91; for the affirmative perspective, see Omid Safi, The Politics of Knowledge in Premodern Islam: Negotiating Ideology and Religious Inquiry (Chapel Hill, 2006), pp. 115–21.

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century, when the mirror was translated into Ara­bic under the title al-Tebr al-masbuk fi nasihat al-moluk (Fashioned Gold: On the Counsel of Kings). The first part portrays rulership as a divine gift, for which the ruler will be held accountable at the Last Day; it places great emphasis on the ruler’s personal virtue. The second part exhibits a contrasting perspective. Kings, like prophets, occupy a preferential position in the divine order, which establishes a division of labor between the two privileged categories: prophets show men the way to God, while kings protect people from one another and are responsible for the well-being of humankind; the ruler, who is God’s shadow on earth, has received the “divine aura” (farr‑e izadi), symbol of his legitimate, divinely bestowed sovereignty. The author of this second part of Nasihat al-moluk invokes an eclectic set of models of royal justice; prominent among these models are the pre-Islamic Iranian kings, the foundation of whose justice lay in their divinely given royal charisma. Some aspects of this vision of sovereignty are not dissimilar from the outlook articulated in Siyar al-moluk.44 The advisory writings of Ghazâli evince a strongly homiletic quality, articulated to a significant degree in a manner that reflects the author’s attachment to the system of meaning associated with the Sufi path. Khorasan, where Ghazâli was born and educated, and to which he returned for the final years of his life, witnessed the emergence and spread of the khânaqâh, as well as the development of a theory and language of Sufism, both in Ara­bic (in the writings of Abu’l-Qâsem Qosheyri [d. 1072]]) and Persian (in the work of Ali b. Othmân Hojviri [d. 1072–77]). Various types of literature linked, at least indirectly, with the dissemination of Sufi-inflected concepts and values possessed advisory dimensions: the edifying sayings of sheykhs, narratives of the sheykhs’ exemplary way of life, stories of the shaykhs’ fearless confrontations with power, instructions for initiates, and the adoption of Sufism as a vehicle for political and social commentary, even on occasion robust criticism of a ruling figure—these expressions of edification 44 Ghazâli, Nasihat al-moluk, p. 81, tr., p. 45.

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and exhortation lie beyond the scope of this chapter.45 A contemplative, self-examining, and sometimes exhortative quality came to permeate a large portion of the cultural production expressed in Persian, whether in poetry or prose. It is apparent in the twelfthand early thirteenth-century compositions of, among other poets, Sanâʾi (d. 1150), Khâqâni (d. 1198) and Nezâmi Ganjavi (d. 1217).46 It finds full development in the oeuvre of Sa’di, who in his Golestân, as will be described in greater detail below, articulates his lessons by way of narratives, condensed in economical fashion into evocative vignettes, and maxims, in verse and in prose, rather than by way of systematic exposition. The later 12th and early 13th centuries saw the rise to independent power of several atabegs, initially tutors to Saljuq princes, in the western and north-western regions of the Saljuq domains. Among the advisory texts dedicated to such provincial rulers is the markedly homiletic and equally encyclopedic Bahr al­favâʾed (The Sea of Virtues), composed in Syria in the mid-12th century by an anonymous Shafi’i author for the Atabeg Arslân Aba b. Aq Sunqur. The thirty-six books that comprise this hybrid text, which displays a significant debt to Ghazâli’s Kimiyâ, cover a particularly broad range of topics, including problematic judgments, matters of etiquette, the bringing up of children, the cure of sins, gems, refutation of the Greeks, wonders and marvels, and many other topics. Notably, the author invokes almost exclusively Muslim authorities, among whom several Sufi figures appear.47 Composed for the Atabeg Uzbek b. Nosrat-al-Din Mohammad Pahlavân (r. 1210–25) of Azerbaijan, the Farâ’ed al-soluk fi fazâ’el 45 See below, Chapter 8. 46 Julie Scott Meisami, Medieval Persian Court Poetry (Princeton, 1987), esp. pp. 180–236. 47 Bahr al-favâ’ed, ed. M. T. Dâneshpazhuh (Tehran, 1966), tr. J. S. Meisami as The Sea of Precious Virtues (Baḥr al-favāʾ id) (Salt Lake City, 1991). See further de Fouchécour, Moralia, pp. 263–75; Geert Jan van Gelder, “Mirror for Princes or Vizor for Viziers: The Twelfth-Century Ara­bic Popular Encyclopedia Mufīd al-ʿulūm and Its Relationship with the Anonymous Persian Baḥr al-fawāʾ id,” BSOAS 64 (2001), pp. 313–38; D. G. Tor, “The Islamisation of Iranian Kingly Ideals in the Persianate Fürstenspiegel,” Iran 49 (2011), p. 117.

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al-moluk (Pearls of Good Conduct: On the Virtues of Kings, 1212–13) of Eshâq b. Ebrahim Sajâsi consists of ten thematically identified chapters, a structure that had by this time become widely used in mirrors. Sajâsi devotes his ten chapters to intellect, knowledge, justice, generosity, determination, prudence, wisdom, courage, temperance, and noble characteristics, and makes use of brief narratives to illustrate his moral points.48 Mahmud b. Mohammad Esfahâni also employed the ten-chapter model in his mirror Dastur al-vezâre (Model of the Vizierate), which he dedicated to a vizier of the Atabeg Sa’d b. Zangi (r. 1203–31) of the Salghurid dynasty in Fars. Esfahâni treats the office of the vizierate and the qualities necessary for it, but he devotes most space to stories concerning the viziers of the past.49 Also composed for the Salghurid Atabegs of Fârs were perhaps the most renowned works of all Persian moral literature, the Bustân (1257) and Golestân (1258) of the poet Sa’di of Shiraz. Dedicated to the Atabeg Abu-Bakr b. Sa’d‑e Zangi (r. 1226–60) and his son Sa’d II b. Abi-Bakr (r. 1260), this pair of interrelated compositions represent, in the words of Charles-Henri de Fouchécour, “monuments of the collective memory,” the subjects of countless copies, commentaries, imitations, editions and translations.50 The Bustân (1257), like the ethical writings of Sa’di’s earlier contemporary Farid-al-Din Attâr (d. 1221), takes the form of a mathnavi, in the meter motaqâreb. The ten chapters of the Bustân treat justice, 48 Eshâq b. Ebrahim Sajâsi, Farâ’ed al-soluk, ed. Nurâni Vesâl and GholâmRezâ Afrâsiyâbi (Tehran, 1990). 49 Mahmud Esfahâni, Dastur al-vezâre, ed. Rezâ Anzâbi-Nezhâd (Tehran, 1985). 50 De Fouchécour, Moralia, p. 311. It should be acknowledged that the placing of the discussion of Sa’di in Section III of this chapter risks over-emphasizing the “political” content of his moral writings; while the education of the prince is certainly an aspect of Sa’di’s work, the scope of his Bustân and Golestân is very considerably larger. See Homa Katouzian, Saʿ di: The Poet of Life, Love, and Compassion (Oxford, 2006), pp. 119–23; Alireza Shomali and Mehrzad Boroujerdi. “On Saʿdi’s Treatise on Advice to the Kings,” in Mirror for the Muslim Prince: Islam and the Theory of Statecraft, ed. M. Boroujerdi (Syracuse, 2013), pp. 45–81; Domenico Ingenito, “‘A Marvelous Painting’: The Erotic Dimension of Saʿdi’s Praise Poetry,” Journal of Persianate Studies 12/1 (2019) pp. 103–66.

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sound administration, and good judgment; beneficence (ehsân); love, intoxication, and passion; humility; acceptance; contentment; the realm of moral instruction; gratitude; repentance and the path of rectitude; and close communion. The Golestân (1258), dedicated to Atabeg Abu-Bakr, his son Sa’d, and the vizier AbuBakr b. Abi-Nasr, is a prosimetric work in eight chapters, which treat the conduct of kings (sirat‑e pâdshâhân); the dispositions of dervishes (akhlâq‑e darvishân); the excellence of contentment; the benefits of silence; love and youth; frailty and old age; the effects of moral instruction; and the etiquette of companionship (âdâb‑e sohbat). Composed of brief narratives (hekâyât), in which poetry is interlinked with prose, each chapter alternates among narration, dialogue and utterances. In both his Bustân and his Golestân, Sa’di devotes the seventh chapter explicitly to moral instruction (tarbiyat). Both compositions are, however, suffused throughout with an ethical consciousness and replete with moral admonitions. As their dedications to political figures would suggest, Sa’di’s moral instruction reminded rulers of the contingency of their power, and the heavy, enduring burden of responsibility that their brief tenancy in power entailed. Among the devices by which Sa’di effected this instruction was the recurrent juxtaposition of two figures, the prince and the dervish; assimilated to this pairing are the distinctions between youth and age, and between rich and poor (darvish). Sa’di’s writings convey on the one hand advice to the powerful and rich, and on the other hand guidance for the interior formation of the individual person. Among the points that emerge from Sa’di’s treatment of this mixed thematic material is his sensitivity to pretense and hypocrisy; he distinguishes between genuine seekers of wisdom and authentic practitioners of self-restraint, designated by the terms darvish, zâhed, and pârsâ, and the self-regarding display of false piety epitomized by the âbed.51 He juxtaposes the figures of the all-powerful king and the indigent, reclusive darvish to convey to his royal patrons and courtly audience the indispensable value of humility and detachment: 51 Cf. de Fouchécour, Moralia, p. 321.

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If Sa’di sought in part to remind his royal patrons of the limits of their power, the responsibilities and perils entailed in kingship, illustrated in numerous brief narratives, conveyed compelling moral meanings for every social category. One of the reasons, perhaps, for the pre-eminence of Sa’di among Persian moralists is the multivalence of his writings: spare, yet carefully structured, his verses and vignettes, separately and collectively, address multiple audiences simultaneously and articulate a sense of common humanity. As Homa Katouzian has commented, Sa’di advocates a model of good, clear, fair, considerate, public and private conduct, which will afford its practitioner a healthy, contented, as well as socially useful life in the world and assure him a good place in the next. Among the morals that Sa’di seeks to teach, Katouzian singles out charitableness, humility, contentment, the condemnation of jealousy and backbiting, and, in his extensive treatments of the morals of kings and viziers, the transience of power and existence, ideal government, and other-worldliness.53 Like the successor states to the Saljuqs in Iran, the polities of the Saljuq rulers in Anatolia (Rum) saw the production of a substantial Persian advisory literature. The authors of these texts were in several cases Iranian immigrants, whose migration to the west had begun earlier but had received a further stimulus in the 13th century from the advance of Mongol forces into Iran. Najm-al-Din Dâye of Rayy (1177–1256), a Sufi of the Kobravi order, provides an example: shortly after his arrival in Kayseri in 1221, Najm-al-Din composed his Mersâd al-ebâd men al-mabda’ elâ’l-ma’âd (The Path of God’s 52 W. M. Thackston, ed. and tr., The Gulistan (Rose Garden) of Saʿ di: Bilingual English and Persian Edition with Vocabulary (Bethesda, 2008), pp. 12– 13; cf. Katouzian, Saʿ di, pp. 123–24. 53 Katouzian, Saʿ di, pp. 89–142.

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Bondsmen From Origin to Return)54 as a gift for those pursuing the Sufi path. He completed a second recension of the work in Sivas in 1223, and he dedicated this version to the Saljuq Alâʾ-al-Din Keyqobâd (r. ca. 1220–37). In five parts and forty chapters, the work covers the orders of creation, prophethood, religious practices and institutions, the return of souls according to their categories, and the ways by which members of different professional groups may attain spiritual reward. While the entire book offers counsel to all seekers after truth, the fifth part particularly exhorts the holders of power to moral rectitude. This part covers the paths of kings and those in authority; the conduct of kings towards the various groups among their subjects; viziers, men of the pen and deputies; scholars, including jurists, preachers and judges; the wealthy; farmers, village headmen and peasants; merchants; tradesmen; and craftsmen. Najm-al-Din’s treatment of these themes follows a consistent method: beginning with the citation of a Qur’anic text or a Prophetic Hadith, he proceeds to infer several distinct lessons from it. The Mersâd combines points of practical advice, such as the need for the ruler to supervise his officials closely, and for merchants to refrain from swearing oaths in the course of their transactions and to be content with a modest profit, with attention to the place of each human occupation in the relationship between the human and the divine. Najm-al-Din’s work was widely read both in Persian and in its Turkish translation, prepared in the 15th century.55 A quite different advisory text, the Hadâyeq al-siyar (Gardens of Conduct) of Nezâm-al-Din Yahyâ b. Sâ’ed, is also dedicated to Alâʾ-al-Din Keyqobâd. The author of this mirror had served several princes, and introduces his work with the conceit that, wishing to give the ruler a present, he decided that a work of ethics and exemplary customs (akhlâq and âdâb) was the only fitting gift that he was in a position to offer. The ten chapters of Hadâyeq al-siyar address the familiar topics of advice literature, such as 54 This rendering of the title follows the translation of Hamid Algar (see following note). 55 Najm-al-Din Dâye Râzi, Mersâd al-ebâd men al-mabdaʾ elâ’l-ma’ âd, ed. H. al-Hoseyni al-Ne’mat-Allâhi (Tehran, 1933) = Hamid Algar, The Path of God’s Bondsmen from Origin to Return (Delmar, New York, 1982).

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justice and injustice, the desirability of postponing judgments and punishments in moments of anger, the virtuous qualities of kings, consultation, and generosity; Nezâm-al-Din dedicates his last two chapters to matters of etiquette at court. He opens his first chapter, “The Conduct of Kings and Rulers,” with the Qurʾanic ati’u’llâh va ati’u’l-rasul va uli’l-amr menkom (“Obey God, obey the Prophet, and those in authority among you” Q 4: 59), which he interprets as a divine injunction to emulate and obey kings and rulers; just as God had made obedience to God and the Prophet incumbent upon every rational person, by law and by reason, as an individual obligation (farz eyn), He had mandated that the rest of humankind and the generality of the people (sâer‑e khalâ’eq va âmme-ye mardom) should follow the example and obey the commands of the rulers of the time. Nezâm-al-Din moves next to a long and disparaging treatment of former peoples who had displayed excessive devotion to their kings: they had followed their kings’ every whim at risk to themselves, their families, their property and the kingdom, and had even imputed divinity to them, just as some rulers had claimed divinity. In this fashion, Nezâm-al-Din implies a reciprocity between kings and their subjects; the latter owed the former their obedience, but the former, rather than abusing that duty, were obligated to treat it with respect.56 The offering of an advisory text as a means of introduction to a courtly milieu and, frequently, as an application for a position in the new environment appears as a well-established practice during the 13th and 14th centuries, which experienced high levels of mobility among the intellectual élites. Serâj-al-Din Ormavi (1198–1283), who composed his ethical treatise Latâ’ef al-hekme (The Fine Points of Wisdom) upon his arrival in Konya in 1257, provides another example of this approach, which will be discussed in Section 4. The writing of advice literature also flourished in Muslim communities in South Asia, where Fakhr-al-Din Mobârakshâh, known 56 Nezâm-al-Din Yahyâ b. Sâ’ed b. Ahmad, Hadâyeq al-siyar, ed. Mohammad Pârsâ-Nasab (Tehran, 2015), pp. 13–15; Ch.-H. de Fouchécour, “Ḥadâyeq al-siyar, un Miroir des Princes de la cour de Qonya au VIIe –XIIIe siècle,” Studia Iranica 1 (1972), pp. 219–28.

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as Fakhr‑e Modabber, composed the Âdâb al-moluk va kefâyat al-mamluk (Rules for Kings and Sufficient Guidance for Kings’ Servants), also known as the Âdâb al-harb va’l-shojâ’e (Regulations for Warfare and Valor), in Persian, at the request of Sultan Shams-al-Din Iltutmush (r. 1210–36) of Delhi. The book is a treatise on statecraft and warfare. The early chapters deal with such established topics as the royal virtues and the choice of trustworthy viziers; much of the remainder of the book deals with military topics such as choosing horses and weapons, building defenses, the deployment of armies, and tactics on the battlefield. Fakhr‑e Modabber also addresses the status of non-Muslims, whose protection and just treatment he commends.57 Probably during his long residency in Kashmir, Ali Hamadâni (1314–85), like Najm-al-Din Râzi a master of the Kobravi order, composed his Dhakhirat al-moluk (Provisions for Kings) in ten chapters, according to its author at the behest of a group of rulers and eminent persons who solicited such a work as a “useful reminder.” Following the homiletic model established in the advisory writings of Ghazâli, Ali’s Dhakhirat al-moluk covers the conditions and precepts of faith, fulfillment of the claims of worship, ethical behavior and the need for the ruler to emulate the conduct of the rightly guided caliphs; the rightful claims of parents, spouses, children, servants and slaves, relatives and friends; the principles of rulership and the claims of the subjects; explication of spiritual governance (siyâsat‑e ma’navi) and the secrets of human deputyship (khelâfat), commanding the good and forbidding wrong, gratitude for bounties, patience, condemnation of pride and anger. Like Najm-al-Din’s Mersâd al-ebâd, each chapter of Dhakhirat al-moluk opens with quotations from the Qur’an and Hadith, which serve as the basis for Ali’s commentary. Ali describes God’s creation of each person as a caliph in the kingdom of his or her own body. It is the responsibility of the just ruler to keep humanity on the 57 Mohammad Mansur b. Sa’id Mobârakshâh Fakhr-e Modabber, Âdâb alharb va-l-shojâ’a, ed. Ahmad Soheyli Khwânsâri (Tehran, 1967). Cf. Sajeda S. Alvi, Advice on the Art of Governance: An Indo-Islamic Mirror for Princes: ‘Mauʿ iẓah-i Jahāngīrī’ of Muḥammad Bāqir Najm-e Sānī (Albany, 1989) pp. 1–11.

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path of rectitude and to carry out the religious precepts among the élites and common people. Ali pays much attention to the subjects’ rights, which the ruler must fulfill or incur punishment. Among the rights of the ruler’s Muslim subjects are forgiveness of their minor slips, justice, treatment according to their ranks, respect for the elderly, fulfillment of promises, to be addressed in a pleasant fashion, equity, the maintenance of bridges and rebâts, the construction of mosques in places with Muslim populations and the appointment of staff to them. Like Fakhr‑e Modabber, Ali distinguishes between the ruler’s Muslim subjects and the non-Muslim parts of the population.58 In Iran and Iraq, advisory texts, often in Persian and sometimes in Ara­bic, were produced throughout the Ilkhanid period, offered especially to the Ilkhans’ vassal rulers and viziers. Foremost among the Persian texts produced in this context is the ethical treatise, the Akhlâq‑e Nâseri of Nasir-al-Din of Tus (1201–74), to be discussed in the following section. Other examples include a Persian mirror known as Tohfe (The Gift), dedicated to the Hazaraspid atabeg of Lorestan, Nosrat-al-Din Ahmad (r. 1296–1333). This mirror, in ten chapters, is probably the work of Fazl-Allâh Qazvini (d. 1339). The Târikh‑e Vassâf of Vassâf-e-Hazrat contains a mirror informed by the Sufi tradition addressed to the Ilkhan Oljeytu (r. 1304–17).59

5. Ethical Treatises (Akhlâq) The 13th century also witnessed the development of the ethical treatise, informed by the intellectual discipline of akhlâq, moral dispositions. This genre of advisory writing, which continued to flourish in the post-Mongol period, offered a complementary counterpart 58 Ali Hamadâni, Dhakhirat al-moluk, ed. Sayyed Mahmud Anvari (Tabriz, 1979), pp. 2, 225–26, 252, 285, 289. 59 Tohfe dar akhlâq va siyâsat, ed. M. T. Dâneshpazhuh (Tehran, 1962); L. Marlow, “Teaching Wisdom: A Persian Work of Advice for Atabeg Ahmad of Luristan,” in Mehrzad Boroujerdi, ed., Mirror for the Muslim Prince (Syracuse, 2013), pp. 122–59.

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to the mirror for princes, which, for all its variety, reflected a primary focus on the culture of the royal court. The two types of advisory writing, while distinct, were by no means unrelated; just as mirrors had often included discrete sections devoted to maxims, authors of ethical treatises often incorporated significant amounts of material associated with the repertoire of the mirror. The foundation for the ethical treatise lies in the science of practical philosophy (hekmat‑e amali). This science develops the fourfold division of the cardinal virtues (wisdom, courage, temperance and justice) based on Plato’s divisions of the soul. It adds to this premise the Aristotelian definition of virtue as the mean between the two extremes of excess and deficiency (efrât and tafrit); the four cardinal virtues are thus portrayed as a balance between eight cardinal vices. Meskawayh, in his Ara­bic treatise Tahdhib al-akhlâq (The Correction of Moral Dispositions), had developed a definitive exposition of this ethical theory.60 While aspects of practical philosophy continued to benefit from the work of philosophers writing in Ara­bic, such as Abu-Nasr Fârâbi (d. 950), the field found further development in Persian, with the addition, in accordance with an Aristotelian division of the sciences, to the science of ethics the further sciences of economics and politics. A critical moment in the development, in Persian, of the ancient division of practical philosophy into the three constituent fields of personal morality (ethics), domestic economy (economics), and government of the city (politics) is marked by the writings of the Shafi’i theologian, philosopher and polymath Fakhr-al-Din of Rayy (Fakhr-al-Din Râzi) (1149–1209). Fakhr-al-Din devoted four chapters of his encyclopedic Jâme’ al-olum (Compendium of the Sciences), also known, on account of the sixty-odd chapters it contained, as Sittini, to these topics.61 The 13th-century poet known as Bâbâ Afzal, Afzal-al-Din Kâshâni, whose name was linked, by way of affinity, with that of Nasir-al-Din of Tus, continued to develop the philosophical tradition of Fârâbi, especially in his Sâz va 60 Meskaveyh, Tahdhib al-akhlâq, ed. Qostantin Zureyq (Beirut, 1966), tr. Constantine K. Zurayk as The Refinement of Character (Beirut, 1968). 61 Fakhr-al-Din Mohammad Râzi, Jâme’ al-olum (= Sittini) (Tehran, 2003).

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pirâye-ye shâhân‑e por-mâye (Provision and Ornament for Fine Kings), a brief treatise in three discourses, devoted to kings, the people, and the king’s officials, and an epilogue.62 It was with Nasir-al-Din of Tus, however, that the ethical treatise found its defining form. As the first preface to his Akhlâq‑e Nâseri, composed in 1235, shows, Nasir-al-Din wrote the treatise for the Ismaili ruler (mohtasham) Nâser-al-Din Abd al-Rahim b. Abi-Mansur (r. 1224–57) of Quhestan.63 After the destruction of the Ismaili settlements in Quhestan and Alamut by the forces of Hulegu (r. 1256–65), Nasir-al-Din joined Hulegu’s entourage and wrote a second preface to his Akhlâq. Initially, he writes, he had been commissioned to translate Meskaveyh’s Tahdhib al-akhlâq into Persian. His translation constituted the basis for his first discourse, on the refinement of moral characteristics (tahdhib‑e akhlâq). Next, Nasir-al-Din added two further discourses, on household management (tadbir‑e manzel) and the governance of polities (siyâsat‑e modon); in these two discourses, he drew on the works of Bryson and Fârâbi respectively. In his first discourse, Nasir-al-Din discusses the faculties of the soul, its perfection and deficiency; the nature and alterability of the human disposition; the cultivation of moral characteristics; virtues and vices; justice; the acquisition of virtues; preserving the health of the soul and treating its sickness. The second discourse covers households, property and stores, wives, children, parents, servants and slaves. The third discourse, which includes sections that recall the repertoire of the mirror for princes, treats the need for co-operation among human beings; love, by which societies are connected; the divisions of societies and the conditions of cities; the manners of courtiers; friendship; behavior towards the different categories of people, and testaments attributed to Plato. In Nasir-al-Din’s comprehensive philosophical vision, the various aspects of individual, familial and political experience are situated in an ordered and rational system. The Akhlâq‑e 62 Afzal-al-Din Kâshâni, Mosannafât‑e Afzal-al-Din Mohammad Maraqi Kâshâni, ed. M. Minovi and Y. Mahdavi (2 vols., Tehran, 1952), I, pp. 83–110. 63 On Nasir-al-Din’s Akhlâq‑e Mohtashami, composed for the same Nâseral-Din, see Section 1.

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Nâseri rapidly came to enjoy a very broad circulation, and it established a new model for works of advice.64 Upon his arrival in Konya, Serâj-al-Din Ormavi (1198–1283), a contemporary of Nasir-al-Din, composed the ethical treatise Latâ’ef-al-hekme (The Fine Points of Wisdom, 1257), dedicated to the Saljuq Ezz-al-Din Keykâ’us II (r. 1246–57). Ormavi, who had spent several years in Egypt before his migration to Anatolia, was an established Shafi’i scholar who, in Konya, quickly assumed the position of Chief Judge. His introduction suggests that Ormavi, most of whose writings are in Ara­bic, composed his Persian treatise as a means to gain access to the court of Keykâ’us; seeking a suitable gift for the ruler, he writes, he decided that a book containing religious knowledge and philosophy (elm and hekmat) would be a cause of the ruler’s long remembrance, for which he could hope to be rewarded for as long as people continued to derive benefit from it. The Latâ’ef is divided into two sections, devoted to theoretical philosophy (hekmat‑e nazari), and practical philosophy (hekmat‑e amal), the latter comprised of the three fields of ethics, managing a household, and governing cities. The first section deals with knowledge, the types of sciences and the divisions of known things; it establishes the principles of religion. In the second section, Ormavi addresses human beings’ needs, the roots of conflict and injustice, and the resulting need for restraints; he then presents three modes of human governance or discipline: of the self; of his family; and of the people of the city and province. For Ormavi, as for Nasir-al-Din of Tus, human beings are political (madani) by nature, and must live collectively; yet the gathering of many people is a cause of strife and conflict. Consequently, people must have a law (qânun); and that law is the divine law (shar’‑e elâhi). Ormavi writes in a continuum with his Shafi’i predecessors, Ghazâli and Fakhr-al-Din Râzi, the latter of whom he cites explicitly. In 64 Nasir-al-Din Tusi, Akhlâq‑e Nâseri, ed. Mojtabâ Minovi (Tehran, 1978), tr. G. M. Wickens as The Nasirean Ethics (London, 1964). Later in his life, Nasir-al-Din wrote a text, intended either for Hulegu or for his successor Abaqa (r. 1265–82), in which he offered practical financial advice (M. Minovi and V. Minorsky, “Naṣīr al-Dīn Ṭūsī on Finance,” BSOAS 10 [1940], pp. 755–89).

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addition to numerous Qur’anic verses and Hadith, he cites earlier prophets, caliphs and religious figures, and employs a considerable amount of narrative material. He includes a small number of contemporary and personal references, including the mention of his embassy, undertaken for the Ayyubid al-Malek al-Sâleh Najm-alDin Ayyub (r. 1240–49), to the court of the Hohenstaufen Holy Roman Emperor Frederick II (1194–1250), for whom he composed a treatise on the subject of logic.65 In the post-Mongol successor states, Nasir-al-Din’s Akhlâq‑e Nâseri prompted the composition of several later Persian works of ethics. The philosopher and theologian Mohammad b. Asad Davâni (1427–1503), who held several positions at the Aq-quyunlu court, dedicated his Lavâme’ al-eshrâq fi makârem al-akhlâq (Shafts of Early-Morning Sunlight: On Noble Moral Characteristics), better known as Akhlâq‑e Jalâli (ca. 1475), to Uzun Hasan (r. 1453–78) and his son Soltân-Khalil. In his Akhlâq‑e Jalâli, Davâni retained the three-part division of the Akhlâq‑e Nâseri, and added, as concluding sections, testaments attributed to Plato and Aristotle. Invoking Uzun Hasan’s military successes, his maintenance of the divine law, and his justice, Davâni promoted his suzerain’s claims to legitimate sovereignty in Akhlâq‑e Jalâli.66 Davâni’s contemporary at the court of the Timurids, the mystic and preacher Hoseyn Vâ’ez Kâshefi (d. 1504), likewise referred to Nasir-al-Din’s Akhlâq‑e Nâseri when he too composed a work of ethics. Known as Akhlâq‑e Mohseni (completed in 1501–2), Kâshefi’s treatise, in forty chapters, was written for Abu’l-Mohsen, the son of Sultan Hoseyn Bayqara (r. 1470–1506). Maria Eva Subtelny has fittingly described the work as a summa or codification. Among the themes that Kâshefi selected in his chapters are devotion, sincerity, gratitude, fortitude, contentment, trust in God, 65 Serâj-al-Din Mahmud Ormavi, Latâ’ef al-hekma, ed. Gholâm-Hoseyn Yusofi (Tehran, 1972), p. 288. See further L. Marlow, “A Thirteenth-Century Scholar in the Eastern Mediterranean: Sirāj al-Dīn Urmavī, Jurist, Logician, Diplomat,” al-Masāq 22 (2010), pp. 279–313. 66 Jalâl-al-Din Davâni, Lavâme’ al-eshrâq fi makârem al-akhlâq = Akhlâq‑e Jalâli (Lucknow, 1957). See also John E. Woods, The Aqquyunlu: Clan, Confederation, Empire (rev. ed., Salt Lake City, 1999).

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modesty, chastity, resolution, justice, forgiveness, pity and mercy, generosity and charity, keeping one’s word, truthfulness, deliberation and good management, courage, jealousy, alertness and awareness, reading character, keeping secrets, opportunism, keeping bad characters at bay, and the training of servants. These themes reflect his interest, and that of his audience, in the cultivation of personal virtue, and his attentiveness to the contemplative life. In a manner reminiscent of Sa’di’s Golestân, Kâshefi begins each chapter with a brief statement, narrates one or more pertinent stories, and quotes from the Qur’an and Hadith.67 In a reflection of the prestige enjoyed by the Akhlâq‑e Nâseri, Akhlâq‑e Jalâli and Akhlâq‑e Mohseni, authors at the Mughal court continued to develop the genre of the ethical treatise, with its foundation in the science of moral dispositions. The Emperor Akbar (1542–1605), who listened to a variety of texts, cultivated an interest in this discourse; and fluency in this material, in conjunction with the mirror literature, constituted an essential component in the education of the monshi in the Mughal administration.68 Hasan-Ali Monshi Khâqâni composed his Akhlâq‑e Hakimi (1579–80), extant in manuscript, for the Mughal prince and governor of Kabul, Mohammad Hakim Mirzâ (1554–85). In this fourteen-chapter work, Hasan addresses the familiar royal virtues, such as justice, patience, generosity, forgiveness, resolution and consultation, with reference to the Qâbus-nâme, the Ahd‑e 67 Hoseyn Vâ’ez Kâshefi, Akhlâq‑e Mohseni (Hertford, 1850). See further Maria Eva Subtelny, “A Late Medieval Persian Summa on Ethics: Kashifi’s Akhlāq-i Muḥsinī,” IrSt 36 (2003), pp. 601–14 (I have adopted Subtelny’s revised dating for the text’s composition). See also Chapter 1, where Colin Mitchell notes echoes of Tusi’s Akhlâq‑e Nâseri elsewhere in Kâshefi’s oeuvre. Jalâl-al-Din Davâni, Lavâme’ al-eshrâq fi makârem al-akhlâq = Akhlâq‑e Jalâli (Lucknow, 1957). 68 Sunil Sharma, “Reading the Acts and Lives of Performers in Mughal Persian Texts,” in Francesca Orsini and Katherine Butler Schofield, eds., Tellings and Texts: Music, Literature and Performance in North India (Cambridge, 2015), pp. 287–88; Muzaffar Alam, “The Culture and Politics of Persian in Precolonial Hindustan,” in Sheldon Pollock, ed., Literary Cultures in History: Reconstructions from South Asia (Berkeley, 2003), pp. 163–65; Muzaffar Alam and Sanjay Subrahmanyam, Writing the Mughal World (New York, 2012), pp. 315–16.

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Ardashir, the Testaments of Nezâm-al-Molk, Hadith, and the sayings of Sufis. Khâqâni’s grandson Qâzi Nur-Allâh Khâqâni, judge of Lahore, composed his Akhlâq‑e Jahângiri (1620–22) in gratitude to the emperor Jahângir (r. 1605–27); in twenty-two chapters, this work reflects the author’s juristic training and interests as well as his familiarity with the Akhlâq‑e Jalâli.69 The thorough assimilation of the mirror and akhlâq literatures into the administrative and literary culture of the Mughal court finds further demonstration in the Mow’eze-ye Jahângiri (The Jahangiri Admonitions, 1612) of the Iranian émigré Mohammad-Bâqer Najm-al-Thâni (d. 1637), an official in the Mughal administration. Bâqer echoes the premise that had, through the broad dissemination of the akhlâq literature, and especially of Kâshefi’s Akhlâq‑e Mohseni, become widespread in post-Mongol and Mughal political discourse: that human beings, being compelled to live in contact with one another and to co-operate for the common good, required law (qânun) to control the conflict that such contact would otherwise produce; and that it was the responsibility of the ruler to uphold the shari’a, practice justice, maintain the social order, and promote economic prosperity. Bâqer, who mentions his predilection for edifying stories, counsels and admonitions, supports his points principally with lines of poetry, and, with the exception of a small number of Qur’anic quotations, he paraphrases rather than cites Hadith and other familiar formulations (for example, “Kings are the shadow of the Creator, and without the sun of their justice the courtyard of the world would not be illuminated”).70 The later development of advisory writing in Persian lies beyond the scope of this chapter. It is nevertheless striking that, as the production of translations attests, the earlier Persian mirror and akhlâq literatures remained meaningful throughout the early modern 69 Munis D. Faruqui, “The Forgotten Prince: Mirza Hakim and the Formation of the Mughal Empire in India,” Journal of the Economic and Social History of the Orient 48 (2005), pp. 491–92; Alvi, Advice on the Art of Governance, pp. 9–10. 70 Alvi, Advice on the Art of Governance, p. 147. On the text’s relationship with the Akhlâq‑e Mohseni, see Subtelny, “Persian Summa,” p. 613.

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period and into the 18th and even the 19th centuries. Echoes of the earlier discourses suggest that they retained some significance even among reformist writers, some of whom adopted openly critical positions regarding the conditions of the polities (Ottoman, Mughal and Qajar) within which they lived.71 If references in bio-bibliographical sources and the record of the extant manuscripts provide a suggestive impression of the prolific millennium-long production of advisory writing in Persian, it is considerably more difficult to gauge the reception of this literature. Certain texts, it is clear, enjoyed a near-continuous readership and a wide circulation; the status of, for example, the Siyar al-moluk, the Kimiyâ-ye sa’âdat, and the Akhlâq‑e Nâseri is readily apparent, not only in the number of manuscripts that have come to light but also in the explicit acknowledgements, translations, adaptations and reworkings of later writers. In many cases, however, works of counsel appear to have survived either in small numbers of copies or as single manuscripts. It would seem that these texts circulated little beyond the environments in which they were first composed and presented; upon receipt, their immediate legitimizing and economic functions fulfilled, they were perhaps promptly deposited in royal libraries, where they remained until modern researchers developed an interest in them. The maxims, verses and narratives that provided the conceptual materials for much of the intellectual and ethical exploration undertaken in the mirror and akhlâq literatures, however, permeated literary discourses and areas of public culture in Persianate societies.

71 Muzaffar Alam, The Languages of Political Islam: India 1200–1800 (Chicago, 2004), pp. 26–80; Alvi, Advice on the Art of Governance, p. 2; Hüseyin Yılmaz, Caliphate Redefined: The Mystical Turn in Ottoman Political Thought (Princeton, 2018), pp. 22–96; M. T. Dâneshpazhuh, “Chand athar‑e fârsi dar akhlâq,” Farhang‑e Irân-Zamin 19 (1973), pp. 264, 279–83. A. K. S. Lambton knew of a mirror composed as late as 1909 (“Islamic Mirrors for Princes,” p. 420); cf. Jocelyne Dakhlia, “Les Miroirs des princes islamiques: une modernité sourde?” Annales 57 (2002), pp. 1191–1206.

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PERSIAN PROSE ­—. Persian Historiography to the End of the Twelfth Century. Edinburgh, 1999. ­—. “The Šâh-nâme as Mirror for Princes: A Study in Reception.” Pand-o Sokhan (1995), pp. 265–73. Melikian-Chirvani, Assadullah Souren. “Le royaume de Salomon: les inscriptions persanes de sites achéménides.” Le monde iranien et l’Islam 1 (1971), pp. 1–41. Melville, Charles. “Between Firdausī and Rashīd al-Dīn: Persian Verse Chronicles of the Mongol Period.” Studia Islamica 104–5 (2007), pp. 45–65. Meskawayh, Abu-ʿAli Aḥmad b. Moḥammad. al-Ḥekma al-khâlide: Jâvidân kherad. Ed. Abd-al-Raḥmân Badawi. Cairo, 1952. ­—. Tahdhīb al-akhlāq. Ed. Qustantin Zurayq. Beirut, 1966. Tr. Constantine K. Zurayk as The Refinement of Character. Beirut, 1968. Minovi, Mojtabâ and Vladimir Minorsky. “Naṣīr al-Dīn Ṭūsī on Finance.” BSOAS 10 (1940), pp. 755–89. Mobârakshâh, Moḥammad Manṣur b. Saʿid Fakhr-e Modabber. Âdâb alḥarb va-l-shojâʿa. Ed. Aḥmad Sohayli Khwânsâri. Tehran, 1967. Mohammadi, M. La traduction des livres pehlevis en arabe dans les premiers siècles de l’Islam. Beirut, 1964. Mostowfi, Abu’l-Fażl Yusof b. ʿAli Mostowfi. Kherad-namâ-ye jânafruz. Ed. Maḥmud ʿÂbedi. Tehran, 1989. Mostowfi, Ḥamd-Allâh Qazvini. Târikh‑e gozide. Ed. ‘Abd-al-Ḥosayn Navâʾi. Tehran, 1960. Nâme-ye Tansar bi-Goshnasp. Revised ed. Mojtabâ Minovi and Moḥammad Ismâʿil Reżvâni. Tehran 1975. Tr. Mary Boyce as The Letter of Tansar. Rome, 1968. Nazim, M. “The Pand-namah of Subuktigin.” JRAS (1933), pp. 605–28. Neẓâm-al-Molk, Abu-ʿAli Ḥasan. Siyar al-moluk (Siyâsat-nâme). Ed. H. S. G. Darke. Tehran, 1962. Tr. Hubert Darke as The Book of Government or Rules for Kings. New Haven, 1960; rev. ed., London, 1978. Neẓâmi ʿArużi Samarqandi. Chahâr maqâle. Ed. Moḥammad Moʿin. Tehran, 1952. Tr. E. G. Browne as Revised Translation of the Chahár maqála (“Four Discourses”) of Nizámí-i-ʿArúdí of Samarqand, followed by an abridged translation of Mírzá Muhammad’s notes to the Persian text. London, 1921. Ormavi, Serâj-al-Din Maḥmud. Laṭâʾef al-ḥekme. Ed. Gholâm-Hosayn Yusofi. Tehran, 1972. Pand-nâme-ye Mâtoridi. Ed. Iraj Afshâr. Farhang‑e Irân-zamin 9 (1961), pp. 48–67.

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Advice Literature Piruzi-nâme mansub bi-Bozorgmehr‑e Bakhtagân: Tarjome-ye Abu-ʿAli Sinâ. Ed. Kâẓem Rajavi. Tehran, 1954. Râzi, Fakhr-al-Din Moḥammad. Jâmeʿ al-ʿolum (Sittini). Tehran, 2003. Râzi, Najm-al-Din Dâye. Merṣâd al-ʿebâd men al-mabdaʾ elâ’l-maʿ âd. Ed. Ḥ. al-Ḥosayni al-Niʿmat-Allâhi. Tehran, 1933. Tr. Hamid Algar, The Path of God’s Bondsmen from Origin to Return, Delmar, N. Y., 1982. Ruymbeke, Christine van. “Dimna’s Trial and Apologia in Kāshifī’s Anvār-i Suhaylī. Morality’s Place in the Corrupt Trial of a Rhetorical and Dialectical Genius.” JRAS 26 (2016), pp. 549–83. ­—. Kāshefi’s ‘Anvār‑e Sohayli’: Rewriting ‘Kalila and Dimna’ in Timurid Herat. Leiden, 2016. ­—. “What Is It That Khusraw Learns from the Kalīla-Dimna Stories?” In Johann-Christoph Bürgel and Christine van Ruymbeke, eds., A Key to the Treasure of the Hakīm. Artistic and Humanistic Aspects of Nizāmī Ganjavī’s Khamsa, Leiden, 2011, pp. 145–66. Saʿdi, Moṣleḥ-al-Din. Bustân‑e Saʿ di: Saʿ di-nâme. Ed. Gholâm-Hosayn Yusofi. Tehran, 1980. Tr. G. M. Wickens as Morals Pointed and Tales Adorned: The Būstān of Saʿ dī. Toronto and Buffalo, 1974. Saʿdi, Moṣleḥ-al-Din. Golestân‑e Saʿ di. Ed. and tr. W. M. Thackston as The Gulistan (Rose Garden) of Saʿ di: Bilingual English and Persian Edition. Bethesda, 2008. Ṣadiqi, Gholâm-Ḥosayn. Ẓafar-nâme mansub bi-Sheykh‑e Raʾ is‑e AbuʿAli Sinâ. Hamadan, 2004. Ṣafâ, Dhabiḥ-Allâh (Z. Safa). “Andarz Literature in New Persian.” In EIr, II, pp. 16–22. ­—. TADI. Tehran, 1959. Safi, Omid. The Politics of Knowledge in Premodern Islam: Negotiating Ideology and Religious Inquiry. Chapel Hill, N. C., 2006. Sajâsi, Esḥâq b. Ebrahim. Farâʾed al-soluk: nathr‑e qarn‑e haftom‑e hejri. Ed. Nurâni Veṣâl and Gholâm-Reżâ Afrâsiyâbi. Tehran, 1990. Shaked, Shaul. “Andarz and Andarz Literature in Pre-Islamic Iran.” In EIr II, pp. 11–16. ­—. “From Iran to Islam: Notes on Some Themes in Transmission.” Jerusalem Studies in Ara­bic and Islam 4 (1984), pp. 31–67. Reprinted in idem, From Zoroastrian Iran to Islam: Studies in Religious History and Intercultural Contacts, Aldershot, 1995, Article VI. Sharma, Sunil. “Reading the Acts and Lives of Performers in Mughal Persian Texts.” In Francesca Orsini and Katherine Butler Schofield,

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PERSIAN PROSE eds., Tellings and Texts: Music, Literature and Performance in North India, Cambridge, 2015, pp. 283–302. Shomali, Alireza and Mehrzad Boroujerdi. “On Saʿdi’s Treatise on Advice to the Kings.” In Mehrzad Boroujerdi, ed., Mirror for the Muslim Prince: Islam and the Theory of Statecraft, Syracuse, 2013, pp. 45–81. Simidchieva, Marta. “Kingship and Legitimacy in Niẓām al-Mulk’s Siyāsatnāma, Fifth/Eleventh Century.” In Beatrice Gruendler and Louise Marlow, eds., Writers and Rulers: Perspectives on Their Relationships from Abbasid to Safavid Times, Wiesbaden, 2004, pp. 97–131. ­—. “Siyasat-name Revisited: The Question of Authenticity.” In B. Fragner, C. Fragner, G. Gnoli, R. Haag-Higuchi, M. Maggi, and P. Orsatti, eds., Proceedings of the Second European Conference of Iranian Studies, Rome, 1995, pp. 657–74. Subtelny, Maria Eva. “A Late Medieval Persian Summa on Ethics: Kashifi’s Akhlāq-i Muḥsinī.” IrSt 36 (2003), pp. 601–14. ­—. Le monde est un jardin: aspects de l’histoire culturelle de l’Iran médiéval. Paris, 2002. Tabatabai, Javad. “An Anomaly in the History of Persian Political Thought.” In Mehrzad Boroujerdi, ed., Mirror for the Muslim Prince: Islam and the Theory of Statecraft, Syracuse, 2013, pp. 107–21. Toḥfe dar akhlâq va siyâsat. Ed. Moḥammad-Taqi Dâneshpazhuh. Tehran, 1962. Tor, D. G. “The Islamisation of Iranian Kingly Ideals in the Persianate Fürstenspiegel.” Iran 49 (2011), pp. 115–22. Ṭusi, Naṣir-al-Din. Akhlâq-i Moḥtashami. Ed. Moḥammad-Taqi Dâneshpazhuh. Tehran, 1960. ­—. Akhlâq‑e Nâṣeri. Ed. Mojtabâ Minovi. Tehran, 1978. Tr. G. M. Wickens as The Nasirean Ethics. London, 1964. Varâvini, Saʿd-al-Din. Marzbân-nâme. Ed. Moḥammad Rowshan. Tehran, 1988. Woods, John E. The Aqquyunlu: Clan, Confederation, Empire. Rev. ed. Salt Lake City, 1999. Yaḥyâ b. Ṣâʿid b. Aḥmad, Neẓâm-al-Din. Hadâyeq al-siyar. Ed. Moḥammad Pârsâ-Nasab. Tehran, 2015. Yavari, Neguin. Advice for the Sultan: Prophetic Voices and Secular Politics in Medieval Islam. Oxford and New York, 2014. ­—. The Future of Iran’s Past: Niẓām al-Mulk Remembered. Oxford and New York, 2018. ­—. “Mirrors for Princes or a Hall of Mirrors? Niẓām al-Mulk’s Siyar almulūk Reconsidered.” Al-Masāq 20 (2008), pp. 47–69.

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Advice Literature Yılmaz, Hüseyin. Caliphate Redefined: The Mystical Turn in Ottoman Political Thought. Princeton, 2018. Yusof Khâṣṣ Ḥâjib. Kutadgu bilig. Ed. Reşid Rahmeti Arat. Istanbul, 1947. Tr. Robert Dankoff as Wisdom of Royal Glory (Kutadgu Bilig): A Turco-Islamic Mirror for Princes. Chicago, 1983. Ẓahiri, Moḥammad b. ʿAli Kâteb Samarqandi. Aghrâz al-siyâsa fi aʿrâz al-riyâsa. Ed. Jaʿfar Sheʿâr. Tehran, 1970. ­—. Sendbâd-nâme. Ed. Ahmed Ateş as Sindbāḍ-nāme: Arapça Sinbād-nāme ile birlikte (Istanbul, 1948), pp. 3–5. Abbreviated French translation by Dejan Bogdanovic as Le livre des sept vizirs: Sendbâd-nâmeh, Paris, 1975. Zakeri, Mohsen. “Ādāb al-falāsifa: The Persian Content of an Ara­bic Collection of Aphorisms.” Mélanges de l’Université Saint-Joseph 57 (2004), pp. 173–90. ­—. “ʿAlī ibn ʿUbaida al-Raiḥānī: A Forgotten Belletrist (adīb) and Pahlavi Translator.” Oriens 34 (1994), pp. 75–102. —. “The Literary Use of Proverbs and Myths in Nāṣir-i Khusrau’s ­ Dīvān.” In Julia Rubanovich, ed., Orality and Textuality in the Iranian World: Patterns of Interaction Across the Centuries, Leiden, 2015, pp. 289–306. ­—. Persian Wisdom in Ara­bic Garb: ʿAlī b. ʿUbayda al-Rayḥānī (D. 219/834) and His ‘Jawāhir al-kilam wa-farāʾ id al-ḥikam’. Leiden, 2007.

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CHAPTER 3 RESÂLE, MAQÂLE, AND KETÂB: AN OVERVIEW OF PERSIAN EXPOSITORY AND ANALYTICAL PROSE Ali Gheissari Persian expository and analytical literature is vast, both in terms of the variety of its subject matters and also in terms of the range of genres and forms that it has used throughout different periods of its long history.1 This chapter will offer a general overview of major formative stages of Persian prose with reference to some representative samples of philosophical and, to a relatively lesser extent, religious writings. It will also briefly introduce certain modern variations of prose, such as political tracts, with new characteristics and complexities of their own. With regard to classical and formative periods particular attention will be given to continuity and change in the form and structure of expository writings and also to themes, and in certain cases to the mode of composition—i. e., to see if it can be argued whether a text was initially conceived in Persian, or was it first syntactically conceived in Ara­bic and then written in Persian. There was also a considerable corpus of Persian texts, produced in the classical period or written later during the post-classical, early modern, and modern periods in classical style and diction, which were either translations from the Ara­bic original or restitutions and summaries. The present chapter will consist of three sections. The first introductory section will offer a brief definition of expository discourse, 1

I am grateful to Mohsen Ashtiany, Rasul Ja’fariyân, and Bo Utas for their helpful advice on sources. The responsibility for all shortcomings, however, rests entirely with myself.

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together with an outline of three broadly used forms, or variations, of prose—namely, maqâle (essay), resâle (epistle, tract, or treatise), and ketâb (book). These forms were widely used within the general classification of Islamic sciences in terms of rational (in the sense, analytic) and transmitted (in the sense, linguistic and traditional), branches of knowledge and investigation—respectively, olum‑e aqli and olum‑e naqli. In this section it will also be shown that in articulating its arguments, philosophical Persian often maintained multidimensional ties with Ara­bic, ranging from reference to the content and the exegeses of the Qur’an and of the prophetic Traditions (Hadith) to regular recourse to Ara­bic grammatical forms and possibilities in a wide range of contexts. It should also be noted that in conveying a broad variety of philosophical reflections and synthesis, Persian frequently resorted to poetry as a particularly favored method and form of expression—a textual category that, in spite of its significance, is entirely beyond the scope of the present chapter. In the second section, a few representative examples of Persian philosophical and religious writings in classical and formative periods (10 th–16 th centuries) will be introduced and further attention will be given to the issue of continuity and change in style and composition of expository prose. The question of continuity and change will further be examined in the last section with particular reference to the post-classical, early modern, and modern writings (17 th–19 th centuries) and to new forms of Persian treatise prose in the early 20th century together with the impact of modern western ideas, translations, and the continued challenge regarding language.

1. Introduction Prose and Forms In Persian the term that is usually used for prose is nathr. Of Ara­ bic origin, nathr literally means dissemination and spreading; it refers to expository discourse, in the sense to elucidate or to explain a topic. Nathr is closer to colloquial style and is distinguishable from 147

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poetry (nazm, lit. “order”) that rhymes. In its expository function, nathr often follows a linear line, starting with an outline and introduction, moving on to the main body of the argument and exposition, and would then close by drawing a conclusion or offering a summary. Variations of nathr, in terms of structure, focus, and typology, could include narrative style (as in prose literature), analytical prose to advance an argument or justify a proposition (as in philosophical writings), demonstrative style (as in genealogical writings, biographies, and travel accounts), and pedagogical writings (including etiquette as well as advice literature).2 From a substantive point of view a number of elements often shaped and impacted the composition of Persian philosophical prose. Included among these were notions and norms that were inspired or directly influenced by Qur’anic revelations and ordinances. These elements defined the overall conceptual domain of Persian philosophical writings. On the other hand, with respect to forms, and in view of the fact that Ara­bic as the medium of Qur’anic revelations had already provided the linguistic context for philosophical discourse, Persian writings also regularly used Ara­ bic grammatical forms, such as conjugation of verbs (sarf), and also broader grammatical provisions of syntax (nahv). Hence at its core philosophical composition was based on interpreting Qur’anic revelations and exploring them with the linguistic tools that were afforded by Ara­bic grammar. In this sense, grammar also paved the way for new analysis, commentary, and allegorical interpretation—a trend that had been developed and explored earlier by

2

For works on nathr see, for example, J. R. Perry, “The Origin and Development of Literary Persian,” in J. T. P. de Bruijn, ed., General Introduction to Persian Literature, HPL Vol. I (London, 2009), pp. 43–70. Among noted Persian literary scholars, M.-T. Bahâr, in contrast to his positive appraisal of Persian poetry, maintained some harshly critical views on Persian prose. Accordingly, Persian prose never succeeded to meet literary standards of Ara­bic prose in any comparable field. See Mohammad-Taqi Bahâr, “Nathr‑e Fârsi,” Tufân 7 (10 April 1928), reprinted in Bahâr va adab‑e fârsi, ed. Mohammad Golbon, with an introduction by Gholâm-Hoseyn Yusofi, (2 vols., Tehran, 1976), I, pp. 245–51.

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the Mu’tazila movement in Ara­bic philosophical and theological writings.3 Subsequently, authorial innovations and new compositions often appeared as carefully crafted texts that offered explications and commentaries on the Qur’an. At times these would also appear as commentaries on works by previous philosophers, classical Greek authors and Neo-Platonists among them. In later works that were more directly related to natural philosophy or medicine, such as influential writings by Avicenna, more direct and descriptive observations provided the ground for hypotheses and deductions and, as far as the science of nature was concerned, more descriptive and empirical accounts were offered by the author-scientist. Articulation of expository discourse in Persian stemmed from a longstanding tradition of writing about philosophical and scientific matters in a pedagogical and didactic vein. Neo-Platonist writings of the late antiquity, which had been influenced by the earlier tradition of Greek philosophical writings (especially the so called epistolê, i. e., epistles or “letters”) impacted the development of philosophical writings in Persian from the early Islamic period onwards. Depending on their intended length, expository texts normally consisted of a preface, leading to an introduction, followed by the main section of the text, and ended by a concluding section or by an open-ended summary of divergent arguments. Also often the task of summarizing various arguments and fitting them within the overall style and framework of the text, involved presenting counter arguments as well.4 Maqâle, resâle, and ketâb can therefore be regarded as the more familiar and broadly used forms of expository prose. These forms served the purpose of exposition and advancing an argument or 3

4

For the Mu’tazila and their philosophical approach to grammar see, for example, M. G. Carter, “Ara­bic Grammar,” in M. J. L. Young, J. D. Latham, and R. B. Serjeant, eds., Religion, Learning and Science in the ‘Abbasid Period (Cambridge, 1990), pp. 118–38; and Sophia Vasalou, Moral Agents and Their Deserts: The Character of Mutazilite Ethics (Princeton, 2008). For a general survey of resâle in Ara­bic, Persian, and Ottoman Turkish see, respectively, A. Arazi and H. Ben-Shammay, Munibur Rahman, and Gönül Alpay Tekin, “Risāla,” in EI2 , VIII, pp. 532–42.

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sets of arguments. By comparison, maqâle is normally shorter than resâle and resâle is shorter than ketâb. In addition to these forms, reference can also be made to lâyehe—derived from the Ara­ bic lowh (lit. tablet), referring to short proposition, meditation, and statement, and often used in its plural form, lavâyeh (petitions). By comparison, lâyehe is the shortest of the prose forms that were mentioned above. Each lâyehe often tackles or proposes a single topic or thesis, and in this sense it is self-contained and focused. Lâyehe also provided a framework for texts with diverse contents and focus. For instance, as will be noted later, the well-known meditations of Khwâje Abd-Allâh Ansâri, collectively known as Monâjât-nâme (Book of Prayers), represent expressions of personal and spiritual introspection and meditation. Here, too, each monâjât (prayer) independently conveys a carefully crafted spiritual condition that the author sets out to dictate or write about. Another famous example would be the Lavâyeh by Abd-al-Rahmân Jâmi (also more on him below), which consisted of several shorter chapters that together dealt with some fundamental questions of mysticism. Among later examples during the early 20th century, reference can be made to a series of Lavâyeh that were issued in 1906 by Sheikh Fazl-Allâh Nuri and his supporters in their opposition to Iran’s constitutional movement. These Lavâyeh often assumed the tone of political petitions and polemics.5 Modern usage of lâyehe can further be seen in political and legal Persian in which the term ordinarily connotes (parliamentary) bill and (legal) statement or brief.6 Ketâb, on the other hand, is longer than resâle. As the standard term used for book, ketâb can be independently structured or contain several resâles with interconnected themes. Different sections of ketâb are often referred to as fasl (chapter), bâb (opening), or similar designations. The episodic style of writing also recurred in ketâb. However, unlike varieties of episodic prose, such as meditative writings, that were structured in such a way that different 5 6

See Sheykh Fazl-Allâh Nuri, Lavâyeh‑e Âqâ Sheykh Fazl-Allâh Nuri, ed. Homâ Rezvâni (reprinted, Tehran, 1983). See M. Z. Samimikia and F. Azarfar (Hendizadeh), Law Dictionary: Persian-English (2nd ed., Tehran, 1998), pp. 312–13.

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episodes could be read independently, in ketâb a linear or progressive style is often adopted that requires sequential reading from start to finish. Persian expository discourse, particularly in the form of resâle, included a broad range of topics and fields of inquiry. From their early formative periods to the present, Persian resâles have displayed a significant element of continuity. Authors in different disciplines have often viewed the resâle style particularly useful in articulating and advancing their arguments; and in many occasions other variations of prose, such as maqâle and ketâb, in one way or another, and in spite of their differences in length, corresponded with the overall concept and paradigm of resâle. We have a wealth of Persian resâles that were produced in different periods relating to sciences, philosophy, literature, religion, ethics, law, and politics. All these forms are also subject to additional and different sets of considerations—ranging from the text’s purpose or intrinsic value for the author and also the level or style of composition that is thus adopted (for example, pedagogical and instructive or advanced and symbolic). Thus variable elements such as author-text and reader-text come to play a direct part in the overall style and composition of the text in question—be it maqâle, resâle, or ketâb. In addition to formal matters, various modes of textual production, in one way or another, also grappled with ontological concerns at the outset. As such and in an often-expressed spirit of modesty, the act of authoring a text had to be justified, and perhaps also the act of writing (i. e., the receiver/reader not being present), lest it would be interpreted as if the author had any self-centered claims independent of what has already been authored in divine revelations. As a result of such concerns, independent thinking was normally justified as an indication of divine truth and not independent of it. Thus a considerable volume of Persian philosophical writings, similar to that of Ara­bic, was conceived and authored to reflect and elucidate themes that were taken as eternal divine truths. This ontological concern also directly influenced the text’s inner speed and the movement of its narrative. Instructive and introductory texts normally adopted a faster pace, whereas esoteric writings often had a different, less linear and more contemplative, 151

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time structure which could be identified in syntax, grammar, and the use of symbols that is a trait in meditative writings. Various forms of expository prose also represent different compositional purposes. These writings assume different modes and levels, such as being introductory, argumentative, meditative, or setting out to offer commentaries on previous work. Furthermore, different types of expository prose in philosophy and mysticism were subject to a number of elements. First, the Qur’anic revelations provided an inventory of meanings and paradigms. As such, the Qur’an was perceived as a salient and common denominator and its exegeses regarded as being independently referable. In other words, the Qur’an as text (in terms of structure and syntax) was perceived just as complete as its parts (in terms of sentences and signs) that could be referred to in an episodic manner. In fact, the episodic style and referencing to Qur’anic aphorisms was a commonly practiced way of incorporating and referring to the Qur’an in different types of Persian texts. Whereas fuller incorporation of the âyahs and surahs were often reserved for works that were more particularly focused on the Qur’an, references to the Qur’an in literary, meditative, and philosophical writings were mostly brief and based on selectively chosen signs and aphorisms. The Qur’anic references were thus evoked to validate and support the text and providing a meta-textual platform for the logic of the text to rely upon. Expository discourse, whether in poetry or in prose, was therefore conceived and practiced in terms of a project to dwell-on and abide-by the divine truth as expressed in the text of the Qur’an. This task being a human endeavor was thus regarded as a relative enterprise and therefore susceptible to human variables of interpretation, place, and time. In assessing the act of writing a text, it is important to note the impact of axiomatic notions (sing. malake). These notions are readily accessible and have conceptual, ethical, and spiritual value and have often been acquired as a result of continued training and repetition and are upheld as intrinsically valid.7 For the Persian philosophical and mystical subjectivity, similar to theological analysis 7

For various connotations of malake, see Dehkhodâ, Loghat-nâme, s. v.

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(kalâm), the Qur’an and the Hadith were, in this sense, manifest truth and axiomatic—a factor that continuously impacted various authorial modes in different periods of Persian philosophical and mystical prose.

2. Classical and Formative Periods Beginnings The Mu’tazila approach to grammar paved the way for significant contributions to philosophical writings during the early Islamic period such as the Rasâ’el of the Ekhvân al-Safâ (Epistles of the Brethren of Purity). In terms of both form and substance the Rasâ’el’s encyclopedic categorization of sciences and knowledge also set the precedence for the composition of later structured accounts focusing on the analysis of a given subject matter in the form of resâle. These early texts were composed in Ara­bic yet they influenced the composition of variety of texts associated with the Sho’ubiyya movement during the 9 th and 10 th centuries, and impacted the early philosophical writings in Persian.8 These trends on the whole were influential in the development of Persian prose literature, including various forms of philosophical writings—in terms of textual structure, use of philosophical discourse and imagery, and their intended audience. Also the shift from Ara­bic to Persian meant that the text would now have a relatively more limited reception and audience. But this shift also represented a further challenge, which had a more lasting effect during later periods. From these early periods onwards, Persian writers viewed Ara­bic as their adopted or preferred language for philosophical prose. They wrote mostly in 8

For Ekhvân al-Safâ and the Sho’ubiyya movement, see respectively I. R. Netton, Muslim Neoplatonists: An Introduction to the Thought of the Brethren of Purity (Edinburgh, 1991); Lutz Richter-Bernburg, “Linguistic Shu‘ūbīya and Early Neo-Persian Prose,” JAOS 94/1 (1974), pp. 55–64; and Roy Mottahedeh, “The Shu’ūbīyah Controversy and the Social History of Early Islamic Iran,” IJMES 7/2 (1976), pp. 161–82.

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Ara­bic and the exceptional texts that some of them produced in Persian, judging by their overall syntax and structure, were clearly influenced by Ara­bic.9

Philosophy Greek philosophical tradition impacted the development of Islamic philosophy in diverse areas such as logic, ethics, and metaphysics. This impact can be particularly noted in the works of early Iranian philosophers such as Ebn-Sinâ (Avicenna), Shehâb-al-Din Sohravardi, and Afzal-al-Din Kâshâni (Bâbâ Afzal) whose writings significantly influenced the development of philosophical Persian. Avicenna’s Dânesh-nâme-ye Alâ’i Avicenna (c. 980–1037) was a polymath and a towering figure in the history of philosophy in Iran. He examined a wide range of medical and human sciences and wrote extensively on logic and metaphysics. His remaining works, written mostly in Ara­bic, form an indispensable corpus of Islamic philosophy and medicine. Avicenna’s Persian works include a short tract entitled Andar dânesh‑e rag (also known as Resâle-ye nabz, “on the science of the pulse”) and a longer work on general philosophical questions referred to as Dânesh-nâme (lit., Book of Knowledge) or Dânesh-nâme-ye Alâ’i, which is among the major works of peripatetic philosophy that are written in Persian. The writing of this work took place in Isfahan intermittently between 1022 and 1037 and was initially prompted by the request of Abu-Ja’far Doshman-Zayâr (also known as Alâal-Dowle Kâkuye), the Buyid governor of Isfahan who had supported Avicenna during the last fourteen years of Avicenna’s life when he resided in Isfahan. Alâ-al-Dowle had expressed a wish to read philosophy in a language that he could understand. Sections 9

For a linguistic analysis of the earliest Persian prose texts and their grammatical peculiarities, see Gilbert Lazard, La langue des plus anciens monuments de la prose persane (Paris, 1963).

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of this work that have survived include Logic (manteq), Theology (elâhiyyât), Music (musiqi), and Natural Philosophy (tabi’iyyât). A section on Mathematics (riyâziyyât) is believed to have been lost. Additional sections on Geometry (hendese), and Arithmetic (hesâb) that are also lost were subsequently extracted and summarized from Avicenna’s other writings by his pupil Abu-Obeyd Juzjâni (d. 1070).10 Dânesh-nâme is written in a clear Persian prose in both syntax and vocabulary, and displays Avicenna’s preferred writing style in brevity and textual economy. In addition to the general syntax of the book with its distinct Persian flow, in this work Avicenna also introduces new scientific and philosophical terminology in Persian and as such Dânesh-nâme can be regarded as an important depository of philosophical and scientific Persian; it has been credited for being the first philosophical book that was written in Persian.11 The main focus of Dânesh-nâme is on logic, metaphysics, natural philosophy, and mathematics (in which Avicenna also includes geometry, astronomy, arithmetic, and music). The opening lines of Dânesh-nâme provide its initial inception and a brief general outline: ‫محم ِد مصطفی و‬ ‫سپاس و ستایش مر خداوند آفریذگار بخشایندۀ ِخرذ را و دروذ بر پیامبر گزیدۀ وی‬ ّ ‫ فرمان بزرگ خداوند ما مَ لک عادل مؤ ّید منصور عضدالدّ ین عالءالدّ وله و‬.‫بر اهل بیت و یاران وی‬ ‫محمد بن دشمنزیار مولی امیر المؤمنین—که زندگانیش دراز باذ و‬ ‫فخر الم ّله و تاج االئیمه ابو جعفر‬ ّ ‫بخت پیروز باذ و پاذشاهیش بر افزون—آمذ بمن بنده و خادم درگاه وی که یافته ام اندر خدمت وی‬ ‫ که بایذ مر‬،‫ و نزدیک داشتن‬،‫همه کامهای خویش از ایمنی و بزرگی و شکوه و کفایت و پرداختن بعلم‬ ‫علمهاء‬ ‫نکتهاء پنج علم از‬ ‫خادمان مجلس وی را کتابی تصنیف کنم بپارسی دَری که اندر وی اصلها و‬ ِ ِ 10 11

See Z. Vesel, “Science in Persian,” in the present volume. S. H. Nasr, Three Muslim Sages: Avicenna, Suhrawardi, Ibn ‘Arabi (3rd printing, Delmar, N. Y., 1997), p. 23. The first published edition of Dâneshnâme was by Ahmad Khorâsâni in 1936 followed by several subsequent editions. See, for example, Abu-Ali Sinâ, Dânesh-nâme Alâ’i: Resâle-ye Manteq, ed. with introduction and additions by Mohammad Mo’in and Sayyed Mohammad Meshkât (reprint, Hamadân, 2004), new edition ed. Qâsem Pur-Hasan, with an introduction by Navvâb Moqarrebi (Tehran, 2012). For an English translation of Dânesh-nâme, see Parviz Morewedge, The ‘Metaphysica’ of Avicenna (Ibn Sinā): A Critical Translation-Commentary and Analysis of the Fundamental Arguments in Avicenna’s ‘Metaphysica’ in the Dānish Nāma-i ‘alā’i (The Book of Scientific Knowledge) (New York, 1973).

155

PERSIAN PROSE ِ ‫ علم‬:‫ و دوّ م‬،‫ علم منطق که وی علم ترازوست‬:‫ یکی‬.‫بغایت مختصری‬ ‫حکمت پیشینگان گرد آورم‬ ‫ و سوّ م علم هیئات‬،‫طبیعیات که علم آن چیزهاست که بحس بشایذ دیذ و اندر جنبش و گردش اند‬ ‫و نِ هاذِ عا َلم و حال صورت [و] جنبش آسمانها و ستارگان چنانکه باز نموذه اند که چون بشایست‬ ،‫سبب ساز و ناساز[ی] آوازها و نهاذن َلحنها‬ ‫ علم موسیقی و باز نمودن‬:‫ چهارم‬،‫حقیقت آن دانستن‬ ِ .‫ علم آنجه بیرون از طبیعت است‬:‫و پنجم‬ ‫ و چنان اختیار افتاذ که چون پرداخته آیذ از علم منطق حیله کرده آیذ که آغاز از علم َبرین کرده شوذ‬ ‫ پس اگر جائی چاره نبوذ از حوالت‬،‫و بتدریج بعلمهاء زیرین شذه آیذ بخالف آن که رسم و عادتست‬ 12… .‫بعلمی از علمهای زیرین کرده آیذ‬

Thanks and salutations to God, the creator and bestower of wisdom—salutation to his messenger, Mohamed Mostafa—his family and friends.   I received the great order of our master, the just King Ez-Din AlaDule Abu-Jafar Mohamed ibn Dushmanziar.13 May his life be long and his fortune increase—the master who provided me with all the objects of my desires such as security, magnanimity—engagement with science and presence in his court—to compose for him and his courtiers a very concise book in Persian (Duri)14 on five traditional and philosophical sciences, namely:   First on the science of Logic which is the science of scales (or canon).   Second on Natural Philosophy which is the science of sensible objects—moving and growing.   Third, the science of Astronomy—Cosmology—the essence and form and movement of skies and stars, as it is reported and examination of these reports.   Fourth, the science of Music and discussion of modes, melodies, harmonies of songs.   And the Fifth, Metaphysics, discussion of those things which are outside of nature.   Our plan started with the subject of logic which is a pure (higher) and formal science and gradually let15 to less pure and formal sciences (lower), (unlike the prevailing custom). It was possible to start with less formal and lower sciences. 12 Quoted from Mohammad-Taqi Bahâr (Malek-al-Sho’arâ), Sabk-shenâsi yâ târikh e tatavvor e nathr e Fârsi, (3 vols., Tehran, 1990–91), II, pp. 36–37. The above transcription style and punctuations are according to this edition. 13 Name as it appears in the English translation. 14 Term as it appears in the English translation. 15 Term as it appears in the English translation.

156

PERSIAN EXPOSITORY AND ANALYTICAL PROSE   Thus I, the servant, though never regarding myself as an expert in this science, obeyed the order of my master hoping that with God’s help I could bring it to a successful completion.16

In the composition of the text, Avicenna also occasionally used less familiar terminology, which was perhaps a deliberate method to make the reader maintain a slower pace in order to better grasp the meaning.17 In line with the general pattern of Persian prose in the 10 th and 11 th centuries, sentences in Dânesh-nâme are relatively short. Also in view of the fact that this work was intended to be pedagogical, often a concise and to-the-point structure with a recurrent use of verbs is adopted and lengthy descriptive style is avoided. The general flow and style of the text is close to a conversational and step-by-step peripatetic style in philosophical language. Dânesh-nâme is an instructive text and hence the adoption of third person (singular or plural) for most predicates, serves the pedagogic purpose. It has further been suggested that the correct title of this work was Dânesh-mâye (compendium) rather than Dânesh-nâme. Similar to the Ara­bic genre of madkhal, this book is an introductory work and an invitation to philosophy, rather than an encyclopedia (a standard equivalent for dânesh-nâme).18 A lasting impact of Dânesh-nâme has been its valuable contribution to philosophical Persian, both in terms of introducing new vocabulary and also in terms of the method or style of presenting a philosophical, didactic, or logical point. The text also does not exclude Ara­bic but uses it in parallel with Persian, in particular with respect to technical terminology, a trait which, on its own right, can be regarded a stylistic potential of philosophical Persian to incorporate 16 English translation quoted from Avicenna, Avicenna’s Treatise on Logic: Part One of Danesh-Name Alai (A Concise Philosophical Encyclopaedia) and Autobiography, ed. and tr. from the original Persian by Farhang Zabeeh (The Hague, 1971), pp. 12–13 (quoted by permission of Brill-Nijhoff). 17 Hamid Tâheri, “Bar-resi va tahlil‑e zabân‑e Dâneshnâme-ye Alâ’i,” in Majmu’e-ye maqâlât‑e hamâyesh‑e beyn-al-melali-ye Ebn‑e Sinâ, (Hamadân, 2004), pp.  3–4, online: http://www.buali.ir/buali_content /media/article/18.pdf 18 See Abbâs Eqbâl-Âshtiyâni, “Chand nokte râje’ be zendegâni va âthâr‑e Ebn‑e Sinâ,” in Dhabih-Allâh Safâ, ed., Jashn-nâme-ye Ebn‑e Sinâ (2 vols., Tehran, 1953–56), II, p. 201.

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Ara­bic terminology and verbal constructs within its own linguistic and syntactic framework. Dânesh-nâme is an early example of such coexistence. Although grammatically independent, philosophical Persian is closely associated with Ara­bic. This can be noted in terms of vocabulary and also in the way that texts were initially conceived and then composed. Such an integral ability, with varying degrees of fluency and style among authors, has been a characteristic of philosophical Persian. Dânesh-nâme also displays a high level of textual flow and cohesiveness in the sense that it could be read without a pre-requisite familiarity with Ara­bic. From this point of view, given the fact that language is a fundamental aspect of philosophy, the text of the Dânesh-nâme enjoys internal consistency and is self-sufficient, in the sense that its conceptual and terminological framework makes its subsequent attempts at articulating its philosophical arguments possible. Such a usage of language notwithstanding, Avicenna did not continue writing in Persian and his most important works were written in Ara­bic. Perhaps Dânesh-nâme was an indication that it was possible to use Persian as a language of philosophy, a territory which was hitherto unexplored, but in order to continue with his more comprehensive philosophical writings Avicenna returned to Ara­bic. Furthermore, Avicenna’s usage of Persian in Dânesh-nâme, although it contributed to philosophical Persian, did not produce a continued philosophical writing style in Persian and did not succeed in replacing the more established and technical Ara­bic among Persian-speaking philosophers. Sohravardi and the Partow-nâme In the formative and classical period of philosophical Persian Shehâb-al-Din Sohravardi (1154–91), who was executed in Aleppo on allegations of heresy, has a special place. In spite of his relatively short life, he wrote prolifically, and in good measure his writings have survived. Although, as with Avicenna, the main corpus of Sohravardi’s major works were in Ara­bic, he has left behind a considerable body of texts that were written in Persian and mostly in the form of resâle. In his writings, Sohravardi incorporated more 158

PERSIAN EXPOSITORY AND ANALYTICAL PROSE

distinctly references to pre-Islamic Iranian themes, expressions, and symbolism. Similar to Avicenna, he was deeply engaged with questions of Islamic metaphysics and viewed his own work in the tradition that was set by Avicenna. Yet unlike Avicenna, for whom philosophical questions were often lodged and analyzed on logical foundations, Sohravardi tried to articulate a distinctly esoteric or, in his own term, illuminationist (eshrâqi) perspective and establish its intellectual foundations; simultaneously he was at ease with philosophy and mysticism and tried to synthesize them.19 Sohravardi’s ideas were elaborated in his major works, including al-Talvilât (The Intimations), al­Moqâvamât (The Oppositions), Ketâb almashâre’ va’l-motârahât (The Book of Paths and Discourses), and most notably Hekmat al-eshrâq (The Philosophy of Illumination), which were all in Ara­bic. His shorter Persian writings, such as Alvâh‑e emâdi (Tablets Dedicated to Emâd-al-Din), Hayâkel al-nur (The Temples of Light), and Partow-nâme (The Book of Radiance), were composed in order to explain in a simpler language the difficulties associated with his more comprehensive writings that were in Ara­bic. Sohravardi’s further Persian works included Loghat‑e murân (The Language of Ants), Resâlat al-teyr (The Treatise on Birds), Safir‑e Simorgh (The Simurgh’s Shrill Cry), Ruzi bâ jamâ’at‑e sufiyân (A Day with a Group of Sufis), Fi hâlat al-tofuliyye (On the State of Childhood), Âvâz‑e par‑e jebra’il (The Sound of Gabriel’s Wing), Aql‑e sorkh (The Red Intellect), and Fi haqiqat al-eshq (On the Reality of Love). Two additional resâles, namely Bostân al-qolub (Garden of the Hearts) and Yazdân-shenâkht (On the Knowledge of God), have also been attributed to Sohravardi.20 19

For studies on Sohravardi, see for example, Henry Corbin, Sohravardi et les platoniciens de Perse, (Paris, 1971, vol. II of idem, En Islam iranien, 4 vols., Paris, 1971–72); John Walbridge, The Leaven of the Ancients: Suhrawardi and the Heritage of the Greeks (New York, 2002); Hossein Ziai, Knowledge and Illumination: A Study of Suhrawardi’s Hikmat al-Ishraq (Atlanta, Ga., 1990); and Ali Gheissari, John Walbridge, and Ahmed Alwishah, eds., Illuminationist Texts and Textual Studies: Essays in Memory of Hossein Ziai (Leiden and Boston, 2017). 20 For Sohravardi’s Persian works, see Majmu’e-ye mosannafât‑e Sheykh‑e Eshrâq, vol. III: Majmu’e-ye âthâr‑e Fârsi-ye Sheykh‑e Eshrâq, ed. with an introduction by S. H. Nasr (Tehran, 1977); and idem, The Philosophical

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In his attempts to reach a synthesis between philosophy and mysticism, which is a major aspect of his work, Sohravardi often employs a symbolic language and uses allegorical personifications, such as conversation among birds. Although Sohravardi’s Persian writings shed additional light on his more comprehensive works in Ara­bic, they are not particularly presented in any simplified or pedagogical style. The overall meaning beneath the text will be grasped only after full immersion in the text’s symbols and intricate narrative. Among Sohravardi’s Persian writings, Partow-nâme (Book of Radiance) has a special place in that it represents his intellectual link with Avicenna and his own efforts to introduce a new perspective, the philosophy of Illumination. A broad range of topics are discussed in Partow-nâme, namely, space and motion and also the concept of Necessary Being (as supreme good), and the ontological hierarchy among beings. Sohravardi also examines the issue of choice and necessity (determination) within the general framework of his theory of being and the being’s potential towards perfection (in his words, “pure light”). In the concluding sections of Partow-nâme there are also references to Zoroastrian symbols and allusions. Partow-nâme consists of ten chapters, as follows: (1) On the Explanation of Some Philosophical Terms; and on Defining the Body and Some of Its States. (2) On the Bounds of the Limited; Space and Time; and Remarks on Generation and Corruption. (3) An Inquiry into the Self. (4) On the Faculties of the Soul. (5) On the Essence of the Necessary Being. (6) On the Activity of the Necessary Being. (7) On the Upper Limits and Order of Being. (8) On the Causes of Generation, the Good and the Bad; and on Predestination and Fate. (9) On the Immortality of the Soul; Happiness and Insolence, and Similar Things. (10) On Prophecy, Miracles, Miraculous Powers, Dreams, and Similar Phenomena. The opening paragraphs of Partow-nâme are representative of its overall composition and style:

Allegories and Mystical Treatises: A Parallel Persian-English Text, ed. and tr. with an introduction by W. M. Thackston (Costa Mesa, Calif., 1999).

160

PERSIAN EXPOSITORY AND ANALYTICAL PROSE ‫پرتو نامه‬ ‫بسم الله الموفق إلتمامه‬ ‫ و نامش‬،‫محبان فضیلت‬ ُ ‫] بدانکه این مختصریست که ساخته شد‬1[ ّ ‫بحکم اشارت بعضی از‬ ّ ‫ و بعضی مواضع که اصطالحات علمای‬.‫«پرتونامه» کرده آمد‬ ‫ تا‬،‫مشائین در آنجا صعوبتی داشت‬ ،‫ و غرض ایراد نکته ای چند است از علم الهی؛ و پیش‬.‫ بتطویل اصطالحی نزدیکتر کردیم‬،‫مُ فضی بُوَ د‬ ِ ‫توفیق اتمام‬ ،‫واهب َحیوة‬ ‫ از علمای دیگر و از‬،‫ تسهیل طریق را‬.‫نکته ای چند را از آن تقدیم کرده آمد‬ ِ … ‫ و مجموع این ده فصل است‬.‫درخواسته می آید‬ ‫فصل اول‬ ‫در شرح بعضی اصطالحات و تعریف جسم و بعضی احوال او‬ ‫ شناخت و دانش تو او را آن باشد که صورتی از آن او در تو حاصل‬،‫] بدانکه هرچه تو آن را بشناسی‬2[ ‫ پس حال تو‬،‫ و [اگر] مثال او در تو هیچ حاصل نشود‬.‫ زیرا که تو چیزی بدانی که ندانسته ای‬،‫شود‬ ‫ و اگر در تو چیزی حاصل شود [که] مطابق‬.‫ و این محال است‬،‫پیش از دانش و پس از دانش یکیست‬ ،‫ و چون او را چنانکه اوست بدانستی‬.‫ پس چنانکه اوست ندانستی‬،‫آن چیز که تو او را دانستی نباشد‬ .‫باید که آنچه پیش تو است مطابق آن چیز باشد که در نفس خویش و صورت او بُوَ د‬

The Book of Radiance In the Name of God, Whose Assistance Ensures Success [1] Know that this is a short treatise called The Book of Radiance, which was composed in compliance with the command of one of the “lovers of virtue.” In certain instances where the terminology of Peripatetic philosophers was difficult to understand, we have elaborated on the terms for clarification. The aim is to expound on some issues in the science of metaphysics, some of which we have presented in the past. Other scholars and the Giver of Life are implored to facilitate the journey to its successful end. This work comprises ten chapters … Chapter One On the Explanation of Some Philosophical Terms, and on Defining the Body and some of Its States [2] Know that whatever you perceive, your cognizance and knowledge of it is such that a form of that thing is obtained by you, because you have come to know something you previously did not know. For if something of the thing’s image were not obtained by you, then

161

PERSIAN PROSE your state before and after knowledge would be the same, which is impossible. Furthermore, if that which you have obtained does not completely correspond with the thing you have come to know, then you have not acquired knowledge of it, as-it-is. Therefore, it is necessary that what you acquire corresponds to the thing as-it-is in itself and that this be its true form.21

Although Sohravardi’s philosophical capital was primarily drawn from the teachings of Avicenna, he blended it with his own approach to Greek philosophy and also to pre-Islamic Iranian thought. In comparison with Avicenna, the language of Sohravardi in his Persian writings appears more symbolic and the literary aspect of his writings, especially in the shorter Persian resâles, is particularly significant. Also considerably more than Avicenna, Sohravardi’s writings incorporate references to the Qur’an and Qur’anic allusions. Similar to Avicenna, Sohravardi’s Persian writings incorporated Ara­bic terms together with their Persian equivalents or their Persianized forms, and hence remained accessible to Persian audiences in different periods. Afzal al-Din Kâshâni’s Mosannafât Among later Iranian philosophers who were influenced by Avicenna and Sohravardi was Afzal-al-Din Kâshâni (also known as Bâbâ Afzal; d. ca. 1213–14), noted for his philosophical prose which, in turn, had significant impact on later authors. Kâshâni continued the intellectual tradition of Avicenna, and on his own part he attempted to synthesize philosophy and mysticism by basing the intellectual enterprise of attainment of reliable knowledge on self-knowledge. In this effort Kâshâni appears to have maintained a distinctly rationalist approach. He has also been praised for the quality of his prose and has been placed at the same level

21 Persian original and English translation quoted from Sohravardi, Partow-­ nâme, ed. and tr. with an introduction by Hossein Ziai as The Book of Radiance: A Parallel English-Persian Text (Costa Mesa, Calif., 1998), pp. 2–3 (quoted by permission of Mazda Publishers).

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of influence with that of Sohravardi.22 Kâshâni’s writing style and choice of vocabulary have further been noted for having made significant contributions to the development of philosophical Persian.23 His major collection of a number of treatises (resâles), Mosannafât, contains some of the best examples of philosophical Persian in its formative and classical period; these Persian resâles include Madârej al-kamâl (The Rungs of Perfection), Jâvedânnâme (The Book of the Everlasting), Yanbu’ al-hayât (Fountain of Life), Imani az botlân‑e nafs dar panâh‑e kherad (Security from the Soul’s Nullification in the Refuge of Intelligence), and a number of shorter writings.24 Also noteworthy is Kâshâni’s Persian translation of the pseudo-Aristotelian Liber de pomo (Resâle-ye toffâha), which has been credited with closely following the original Ara­bic.25 Kâshâni’s translation is also a good example of his fluent style—as can be noted in the opening and closing lines of his Resâle-ye toffâha:26 ‫کتاب التفاحة‬ ‫] چنین گفتند که چون‬.[‫این ترجمۀ مقاله ایست از آن ارسطاطالیس که بوقت وفات امال کرده است‬ ‫] چون نزاری‬.[‫ارسطاطالیس حکیم را عمر بپایان رسید از شاگردان وی چندی بر وی حاضر بودند‬ ‫تن و ناتوانی وی بدیدند و نشانهای مرگ از وی پیدا یافتند از حیاتش نومید گشتند مگر آنکه در وی‬ ‫میدیدند از سرور و نشاط و درستی عقل آنچه دلیل میکرد بر آنکه او از حال خود می یابد بر خالف‬ ‫] پس شاگردی بوی گفت که ما را جزع بر تو بیش از آنست که ترا بر خود‬.[‫آنکه دیگران از و میدیدند‬ 22 See William Chittick, “Bābā Afżal-al-Din,” in EIr, III, pp. 285–91; idem, The Heart of Islamic Philosophy: The Quest for Self-Knowledge in the Teachings of Afdal al-Din Kashani (Oxford, 2001); Abbâs Zaryâb, “Bâbâ Afzal,” in Dânesh-nâme jahân‑e Eslâm (Tehran, 1990), VI, p. 13. 23 Mohammad-Farid Râstgufard, “Sabk-shenâsi-ye neveshte-hâ-ye Bâbâ Afzal Kâshâni az didgâh‑e zabâni,” Sabk-shenâsi-ye nazm va nathr‑e Fârsi (Bahâr‑e adab) 4/3 (2011), pp. 267–82. 24 The above-mentioned writings are all included in Afzal-al-Din Mohammad Maraqi Kâshâni, Mosannafât, eds. Mojtabâ Minovi and Yahyâ Mahdavi (second edition, Tehran, 1987). English translation of the titles given above follows Chittick, The Heart of Islamic Philosophy, pp. 19–27, where a more comprehensive list of works with annotations is also provided. 25 Chittick, “Bābā Afzal-al-Din.” 26 Kâshâni, Mosannafât, pp. 113–44. Here both the original section and its translation are based on D. S. Margoliouth, “The Book of the Apple, Ascribed to Aristotle,” JRAS n. s. 24/2 (1892), pp. 187–252.

163

‫‪PERSIAN PROSE‬‬ ‫و از گذشتن تو غمناکتریم که تو از گذشتن خود[‪ ].‬اگر از آنست که تو از خود چیزی می یابی بیرون‬ ‫از آنچه ما از تو می یابیم ما را نیز از آن آگاهی ده[‪ ].‬ارسطاطالیس گفت اما آنچه از خرمی من می یابید‬ ‫نه از آنست که مرا در حیات خود طمعی مانده است[‪ ]،‬ولیکن استواری منست بحال خویش پس از‬ ‫مرگ[‪ ].‬شاگردی نام وی شیماس گفت اگر ترا این استواری هست سزاوارتر که ما را نیز بنمائی سبب‬ ‫آن همچنانکه ترا وثوقست ما را نیز باشد[‪ ].‬ارسطو کفت اگر چه دشارست بر من سخن گفتن اما‬ ‫رنجی برگیرم از برای شما[‪ ].‬نخست بشنوم از قریطون که در وی می بینم که در سخن یازد[‪ ].‬قریطون‬ ‫گفت اگر چه من نیکخواهانم شنیدن سخن ترا و پیدا کردن دانش ای آموزندۀ بشر[‪ ]،‬لیکن طبیبی‬ ‫که متعهدست مرا فرموده است که او را بسخن گفتم میار که سخن گفتن او را گرم کند و چون گرمی‬ ‫بر وی غالب گردد مداوات درازتر گردد و دیرتر منفعت دهد[‪ ].‬ارسطو گفت من رأی آن طبیب را‬ ‫بگذاشتم و از ادویه ببوی سیبی بس کنم که روان من چندان نگه دارد که من در سخن حق شما بگذارم‬ ‫و چون و چگونه سخن نگویم و بهترین امید من از دارو نیروی سخن گفتنست…‪27‬‬ ‫ دیوجنس گفت ای پیشوای حکمت خرد ما از خرد تو هیچ باز نمیگراید[‪ ]،‬با ما پیمانی کن که ما را‬ ‫از مخالفت یکدیگر نگه دارد[‪ ].‬ارسطو گفت اگر بر سیرت من خواهید بودن بکتب من اقتدا کنید[‪].‬‬ ‫دیوجنس گفت بسیارست کدام اولیتر بفصل میان ما اگر خالفی افتد[؟] ارسطو گفت اما آنچه جوئید‬ ‫از علم اول و حکمت ربوبیت از کتاب هرمس جوئید و آنچه مشکل شود از علم سیاسیات[‪ ]،‬و‬ ‫تعلیم خلق از کتاب طبایع خلق بجوئید و آنچه بر شما مشکل شود از خوب و زشت کارها از کتاب‬ ‫اخالق بطلبید و آنچه از حدود سخن بود و شما را در آن خالف افتد از کتاب چهارگانه در منطق‬ ‫بجوئید[‪ ]:‬کتاب اول قاطیغوریاس و دوم پاریرمنیاس و سیم امالوطیغا [= آنالوطیغا ‪ /‬آنالیتیکی] و‬ ‫چهارم اپوریطیغا [= آپودیکتیغا ‪ /‬آپودیکتیکی] کتاب برهان که فرق میان حق و ناحق کند و بدان برهان‬ ‫تواند انگیخت بر کارهای پوشیده‪28.‬‬ ‫ و چون سخن ارسطو بدینجای رسید روانش بیطاقت شد و دستش بلرزید و سیب از دستش بیفتاد‬ ‫و حکما جمله برخاستند و نزدیک وی شدند و سر و چشمش ببوسیدند و برو ثنا گفتند[‪ ].‬دست‬ ‫قریطون گرفت و بر روی خود نهاد و گفت روانرا سپردم بپذیرای روان حکما و خاموش گشت و در‬ ‫گذشت[‪ ].‬یاران برو زاری کردند[‪ ]:‬سر آمد روزگاز دانائی[‪29].‬‬

‫‪The Book of the Apple‬‬ ‫‪This is the translation of a discourse which Aristotle delivered at the‬‬ ‫‪time of his death. It is said that when the life of the sage Aristotle‬‬ ‫‪approached its end, some of his disciples came to see him. When‬‬ ‫‪they saw the emaciation of his frame, and his weakness, and per‬‬‫‪ceived about him the signs of death, they despaired of his life; only‬‬ ‫‪the joy, alacrity, and clearness of intellect that they perceived in him‬‬ ‫‪showed them that he took a different view of his condition from that‬‬ ‫‪27 Margoliouth, “The Book of the Apple,” pp. 202–203.‬‬ ‫‪28 Margoliouth, “The Book of the Apple,” p. 229.‬‬ ‫‪29 Margoliouth, “The Book of the Apple,” p. 229. In the above quotation all‬‬ ‫‪punctuations and words in square brackets are added by the present author.‬‬

‫‪164‬‬

PERSIAN EXPOSITORY AND ANALYTICAL PROSE which was taken by others. Then one of the disciples said to him: Our grief over you is greater than your grief over yourself, and we are more vexed than you concerning your departure; if it be that you feel otherwise than we feel about you, tell us also of this.—Aristotle said: The joy that you perceive in me does not arise from my cherishing any desire for life, but from my confidence about my condition after death.—A disciple named Simmas said: If you have this confidence, it were better that you should explain the ground of it to us also, that we may be as certain as you.—Aristotle said: Although it is difficult for me to talk, still for your sake I will endure some trouble: but first let me hear Kriton, for I can see that he wishes to say something.—Kriton said: Although I should much like to hear your conversation, and acquire knowledge thereby, O teacher of mankind, the physician whom you employ commanded me not to induce you to talk, on the ground that talking would make you warm, and should the heat get the better of you the cure would be delayed, and the effect of the drugs impeded.—Aristotle said: I will disobey the advice of the physician, and will employ no drug but the scent of an apple; which will keep me alive till I have given you the lecture to which you have a right. Why should I not speak, when the best thing I hope to obtain from the drugs is the power to speak? …30  …—Diogenes: O guide to wisdom! Our minds vary not the least from thine. Make a compact between us which will guard us from differing with one another!—Aristotle: If you would follow my ways, imitate my books.—Diogenes: There are so many. Which will settle differences between us best if any such arises?—Aristotle: Questions concerning the “first science” and the science of theology you should seek from the book of Hermes; for difficulties in the way of politics [you should go to the Politics, and for] difficulties in natural science, to the Physics; for difficulties about good and bad actions, to the Ethics; whereas if any difference arises among you about the definitions of speech, you should refer to the four books of Logic, the first the Categories, the second περί έρµηνείας, the third άναλυτική, the fourth άποδεικτική, or book of Demonstration, which tells you how to distinguish between true and false. There you will obtain light on dark matters.31 30 Margoliouth, “The Book of the Apple,” pp. 230–31. 31 Margoliouth, “The Book of the Apple,” p. 252. In the above quotation, all punctuations and words in square brackets are added by the present author.

165

PERSIAN PROSE   When Aristotle had spoken thus far, his soul became powerless; his hand shook, and the apple fell out of his hand. The philosophers all rose and came near to him, and kissed his hand and eyes and eulogized him. He grasped Kriton’s hand and laid it on his face, saying, “I commit my spirit to the Receiver of the spirits of the wise.” Then he ceased and his spirit passed away. His friends lamented over him, saying, The day of knowledge is over.”32

Mystical and Meditative Prose In the present section, within the limitations of space, a few major examples in mystical and meditative writings that are relevant to expository prose will be briefly noted. Here, among the more representative authors from the 11th to the 15th centuries, reference is made to Nâser‑e Khosrow, Abuʼl-Hasan Hojviri, Khwâje Abd-Allâh Ansâri, and Ahmad Ghazâli, and also to Eyn-alQozât Hamadâni, Alâ-al-Dowle Semnâni, and Abd-al-Rahmân Jâmi, with brief observations below). It could be argued that some of these authors do not entirely fall in the category addressed in this chapter, as there is a fine line between mysticism and expository philosophic discourse that should be observed. Nevertheless they were all influenced by the tradition of treatise literature and in turn contributed significantly to its development by writing for a broader range of readers and thus expanding the audience—be it in association with Sufi orders, formulating religious doctrinal polemics, or, as in the case of meditative texts, catering to personal use and devotional (rather than analytic) appreciation. In this context Ismaili texts were among the most substantial part of a trend that suggests that the first impulse to write in Persian was that of preaching and reaching to a public who would not only understand Persian discourse better than Ara­bic, but also, and this is important pedagogically speaking, felt more at home in it and hence more likely to absorb and relish the arguments. Gradually

32

Margoliouth, “The Book of the Apple,” p. 252.

166

PERSIAN EXPOSITORY AND ANALYTICAL PROSE

afterwards, Persian became almost on a par with Ara­bic for a large public audience; so from the time of Sohravardi and Afzal-al-Din Kâshâni onwards, there was a choice. Nâser‑e Khosrow and Goshâyesh va rahâyesh Abu’l-Mo’in Nâser b. Khosrow Qobâdiyâni (Nâser-e Khosrow; ca. 1004–88), was a noted Ismaili philosopher, Persian poet, and travel writer. His famous travel account, Safar-nâme (The Book of Travels), covers approximately seven years of his travels and observations, between the years 1046 and 1052, which included travels in southwest Asia, Arabia, and Egypt. The text is written in Persian and offers a lucid portrait of peoples and places that Nâser‑e Khosrow encountered. It is both an informative text about the social history and historical geography of various places that he visited and also an example of clear Persian prose. Another Persian text by Nâser‑e Khosrow is Goshâyesh va rahâyesh (Opening and Deliverance), which deals with a range of Ismaili teachings.33 This work can be regarded as another example of early philosophical Persian. The text of Goshâyesh va rahâyesh is arranged in the form of some thirty questions on a broad range of topics, mostly relating to epistemology, metaphysics and psychology, and the author’s attempts to offer and articulate answers to each in clear Persian style, a factor which contributed to its lasting impact.34 The opening lines of Goshâyesh va Rahâyesh are representative of its overall prose style:

33 Nâser‑e Khosrow Qobâdiyâni, Goshâyesh va rahâyesh, ed. with introduction (dated 1950) by Sa’id Nafisi (repr., Tehran, 1984). For an English translation, see Nasir Khusraw, Knowledge and Liberation: A Treatise on Philosophical Theology, tr. Faquir M. Hunzai, introd. by Parviz Morewedge (London, 1998). 34 For Nâser‑e Khosrow’s place in Ismaili ideas and impact, see Henry Corbin, “Nasir Khusrau and Iranian Isma’ilism,” in CHIr, IV, pp. 520–42; for further biographical account, see also Alice C. Hunsberger, Nasir Khusraw, the Ruby of Badakhshan: A Portrait of the Persian Poet, Traveller and Philosopher (London, 2003).

167

PERSIAN PROSE ‫بسم الله الرحمن الرحیم‬ ‫و به نستعین‬ ‫] الحمد لله رب العالمین و العاقبة للمتقین و الصلوة علی سید المرسلین محمد و آله اجمعین و‬1[ ‫سلم تسلیما کثرا‬ ‫] دانستم ای برادر از بسته گشتن مسئله هایی که شبهت اندر آن بسیار ست و کسی را نیافتی که‬2[  ‫ و لیکن ما ترا اجابت کردیم در پرسیدن این مسئله ها و نام نهادیم این‬،‫وی بگشادن آن توان داشت‬ ‫کتاب را گشایش و رهایش از آنکه سخن بسته اندر و گشاده کردیم تا نفسهای مؤمنان مخلصان را‬ .‫اندر و گشایش و رهایش باشد‬ ‫حجت از‬ ‫و‬ ‫برهان‬ ‫و‬ ‫بیان‬ ‫و‬ ‫بشرح‬ ‫یک‬ ‫هر‬ ‫جواب‬ ‫و‬ ‫[می]کنیم‬ ‫یاد‬ ‫برادر‬ ‫] اکنون سؤالهای ترا ای‬3[  ّ .‫آیات قرآن و دالئل از آفاق و انفس و طبایع و ارکان همی آریم‬

In the Name of Allah, the Beneficent, the Merciful [1] Praise be to Allah, the Lord of the worlds. The [best] end is for those who fear God, and the blessing [of God] be upon the chief of the Messengers, Muhammad, and all his progeny. May God bestow peace upon [them] abundantly.   [2] Now then, O brother, I have come to know about the intricacies of [certain] inquiries in which there are many ambiguities, and you did not find anyone who was able to answer them. However, we allowed you to ask us those questions, and we named this book Gushāyish wa rahāyish because we have solved these problems in it, so that the souls of sincere believers may find [the uncovering of] knowledge in it and be [spiritually] liberated by it.   [3] Now, O brother, I will repeat your inquiries and answer each one, substantiating with elucidation and explanation, demonstration and argument, from the verses of the Qur’ān [and] proofs from the external world (āfāq), the internal world (anfos), the natures, and the elements.35

Nâser‑e Khosrow’s other Persian writings in prose include Zâdal-mosâferin (Travelling Provisions of Pilgrims) which is a major text about Ismaili views on theology and cosmology as well as a 35 Nasir Khusraw, Knowledge and Liberation; Persian text quoted from p. 1 of the Persian section, and English translation quoted from p. 23 of the English section, under “Author’s Preamble” (text and translation ©Faquir M. Hunzai, 1993, I. B. Tauris, used by permission of Bloomsbury Publishing Plc.). Numbers and other additions in square brackets, in the Persian section and in its English translation, are according to the above edition.

168

PERSIAN EXPOSITORY AND ANALYTICAL PROSE

source book for the terminology of philosophical Persian; Vajh‑e din (The Face of Religion), which is mostly on theology and practical questions relating to religious law; and Jâme’ al-hekmateyn (Uniting of the Two Wisdoms), written in 1070 at the request of Eyn-al-Dowle, the governor of Badakhshân; this work is a detailed articulation of Ismaili doctrine on theological questions. Ali b. Othmân Hojviri’s Kashf al-mahjub Ali b. Othmân Hojviri (d. 1077) had a major impact on dissemination of Sufi ideas in the Indian Subcontinent. His Kashf al-mahjub (Revelation of the Veiled) is considered one of the earliest and most significant classical treatises on Sufism that is written in Persian.36 Prior to Hojviri, another work also in Persian with the same title, Kashf al-mahjub, was written by Abu-Ya’qub Eshâq b. Ahmad Sejzi (also known as Sejestâni) (d. 943). It consisted of seven essays (maqâle) on principles of faith, and was regarded as one of the main sources of Ismaili teachings. Hojviri’s treatise was initially composed in response to a question about how the true meaning of Sufism and its spiritual stations can be articulated. A propagator of Sufism, Hojviri was also an ardent defender of the outer path and observances as upheld by the shari’a. Kashf al-mahjub is structured along various sections (sing. bâb) on details of Sufi concepts, practices, and stages. It is composed in a resâle format and was meant to articulate and offer instructions. Its organization also instigates an orderly message with regard to various stations of spiritual development in accordance with Sufi teachings, and combines both the speculative and practical dimensions of Sufi writings. Kashf al-mahjub consists of three parts. The first part is introductory and explains the reason why the book was written. The second part outlines some general introductions on Sufi ideas and also offers biographical information on famous Sufi masters of the past. The third part, which is the 36 Ali b. Othmân Hojviri, Kashf-al-mahjub, ed. Mahmud Âbedi (Tehran, 2004). For a slightly abridged English translation, see Reynold A. Nicholson, tr., The Kashf al-Mahjúb: The Oldest Persian Treatise on Sufiism (London, 1911).

169

‫‪PERSIAN PROSE‬‬

‫‪main part of the book, consists of some eleven “revelations” (sing.‬‬ ‫‪kashf) in which major questions of Sufism are discussed. Hojviri‬‬ ‫‪wrote this book late in life and after some of his earlier writings‬‬ ‫‪had been lost. Some scholars have further pointed out that in spite‬‬ ‫‪of its popularity this work lacks consistency, perhaps because he‬‬ ‫‪wrote it in old age. 37‬‬ ‫‪The opening lines of Kashf al-mahjub provide an overall back‬‬‫‪ground to the author’s earlier losses and describe the general scope‬‬ ‫‪of the text.‬‬ ‫بسم الله الرحمن الرحیم‬

‫من بعده‪ ،‬قال الشیخ ابوالحسن علی بن عثمان بن ابی علی الجالبی‪ُ ،‬ث َم الهجویری‪ ،‬رضی الله‬ ‫عنه‪ :‬طریق استخارت سپردم و اغراضی که به نفس می بازگشت از دل ستردم و به حکم استدعای‬ ‫تو اسعدک الله قیام کردم و بر تمام کردن مراد تو از این کتاب عزمی تمام کردم‪ ،‬و مر این را کشف‬ ‫المحجوب نام کردم‪ ،‬و مقصود تو معلوم گشت و سخن اندر غرض تو در این کتاب مقسوم گشت و‬ ‫من از خداوند تعالی استعانت خواهم و توفیق اندر اتمام این کتاب‪ ،‬و از حول و قوت خود تبرا کنم‬ ‫العون و ال ّتوفیق‪.‬‬ ‫اندر گفت و کردار و بالله‬ ‫ُ‬ ‫فصل‬

‫آن چه به ابتدای کتاب نام خود اثبات گردم‪ ،‬مراد اندر آن دو چیز بود‪ :‬یکی نصیب خاص‪ ،‬دیگر نصیب‬ ‫عام‪ .‬آن چه نصیب عام بود آن است که چون جهلۀ این علم کتابی نو بینند که نام مصنف آن به چند‬ ‫جای بر آن مثبت نباشد‪ ،‬نسبت آن کتاب به خود کنند‪ ،‬و مقصود مصنف از آن برنیاید؛ که مراد از‬ ‫جمع و تألیف و تصنیف به جز آن نباشد که نام مصنف بدان کتاب زنده باشد و خوانندگان و متعلمان‬ ‫وی را دعای خیر گویند‪ .‬و مرا این حادثه افتاد به دو بار‪ :‬یکی آن که دیوان شعرم کسی بخواست و‬ ‫باز گرفت و حاصل کار جز آن نبود که جمله را بگردانید و نام من از سر آن بیفکند و رنج من ضایع‬ ‫کرد‪ ،‬تاب الله علیه؛ و دیگر کتابی کردم اندر تصوّ ف‪ ،‬نام آن منهاج الدین‪ ،‬یکی از مدعیان رکیک که‬ ‫کرای گفتار او نکند نام من از سر آن پاک کرد و به نزدیک عوام چنان نمود که آن وی کرده است‪ ،‬هر‬ ‫چند خواص بر آن قول بر وی خندیدندی‪ .‬تا خداوند تعالی بی برکتی آن بدو رسانید و نامش از دیوان‬ ‫طالب درگاه خود پاک گردانید‪.‬‬ ‫ اما آن چه نصیب خاص بود آن است که چون کتابی بینند و دانند که مؤلف آن بدین فن علم‪ ،‬عالم‬ ‫بوده است و محقق‪ ،‬رعایت حقوق آن بهتر کنند و بر خواندن آن و یاد گرفتن آن به جد تر باشند و‬ ‫مراد خواننده و صاحب کتاب از آن بهتر بر آید و الله أعلم بالصواب‪38.‬‬ ‫‪37 See, for example, Julian Baldick, “Medieval Ṣufī Literature in Persian‬‬ ‫‪Prose,” in George Morrison, ed., History of Persian Literature from the Be‬‬‫‪ginning of the Islamic Period to the Present Day (Leiden and Cologne, 1981),‬‬ ‫‪pp. 87–88.‬‬ ‫‪38 Hojviri, Kashf al-mahjub, ed. Mahmud ‘Âbedi (Tehran, 2004).‬‬

‫‪170‬‬

PERSIAN EXPOSITORY AND ANALYTICAL PROSE Introduction In the Name of God, the Merciful, the Compassionate … ‘Alí b. ‘Uthmán b. ‘Alí al-Jullábí al-Ghaznawí al-Hujwírí (may God be well pleased with him!) says as follows: I have asked God’s blessing, and have cleared my heart of motives related to self, and have set to work in accordance with your invitation—may God make you happy!—and have firmly resolved to fulfil all your wishes by means of this book. I have entitled it “The Revelation of the Mystery”. Knowing what you desire, I have arranged the book in divisions suitable to your purpose. Now I pray God to aid and prosper me in its completion, and I divest myself of my own strength and ability in word and deed. It is God that gives success. Section Two considerations have impelled me to put my name at the beginning of the book: one particular, the other general.39 As regards the latter, when persons ignorant of this science see a new book, in which the author’s name is not set down in several places, they attribute his work to themselves, and thus the author’s aim is defeated, since books are compiled, composed, and written only to the end that the author’s name may be kept alive and that readers and students may pronounce a blessing on him. This misfortune has already befallen me twice. A certain individual borrowed my poetical works, of which there was no other copy, and retained the manuscript in his possession, and circulated it, and struck out my name which stood at its head, and caused all my labour to be lost. May God forgive him! I also composed another book, entitled “The Highway of Religion” (Minháj al-Dín), on the method of Ṣúfi’ism—may God make it flourish! A shallow pretender, whose words carry no weight, erased my name from the title page and gave out to the public that he was the author, notwithstanding that connoisseurs laughed at his assertion. God, however, brought home to him the unblessedness of this act and erased his name from the register of those who seek to enter the Divine portal. 39 “The author’s meaning appears to be that one consideration has a special reference to connoisseurs and competent persons, while the other has a general reference to the public at large.” This footnote is given in the English translation.

171

PERSIAN PROSE   As regards the particular consideration, when people see a book, and know that its author is skilled in the branch of science of which it treats, and is thoroughly versed therein, they judge its merits more fairly and apply themselves more seriously to read and remember it, so that both author and reader are better satisfied. The truth is best known to God.40

Hojviri’s Kashf al-mahjub was later drawn upon by authors such as Farid-al-Din Attâr (d. c. 1221) in the composition of his famous Tadhkerat al-owliyâ and also even later by Abd-al-Rahmân Jâmi (d. 1492) in his Nafahât al-ons men hazarât al-qods, both of which give biographical accounts of Muslim saints and mystics.41 Khwâje Abd-Allâh Ansâri’s Monâjât-nâme Abu-Esmâ’il Abd-Allâh Haravi, known as Khwâje Abd-Allâh Ansâri of Herat (1006–88), was a noted Sufi master and author of the 11th century. He was a follower of the conservative and literalist Hanbali School in Islamic law, and in his own right was a noted commentator on the Qur’an and an expert in Hadith. In addition to his writings in Ara­bic, Ansâri also wrote or more often recounted several works in Persian, including the Monâjât-nâme, or simply the Monâjât (The Book of Prayers), also known as Elâhi-nâme (The Book of Invocations to God). Although on the whole the text of the Monâjât was not directly written down by Ansâri but was compiled by his disciples, thus incorporating both genuine and unauthentic elements, it is arguably his most famous and widely circulated text that was well-received and read in different periods.42 40 Hujwiri, Kashf al-mahjub, tr. R. A. Nicholson (Leiden and London, 1911, 2nd ed., 1936), pp. 1–2. 41 For Kashf al-mahjub and its direct influence, including verbatim quotations, on Tadhkirat-al-owliâ, see M.-T. Bahâr, Sabk-shenâsi (3 vols., Tehran, 1990– 91), II, pp. 187–97. For an English translation of Attâr’s work, see A. J. Arberry, tr., Muslim Saints and Mystics: Episodes from the Tadhkirat al-Auliya’ (London, 1990). For Jâmi’s work, see Nur-al-Din Abd-al-Rahmân Jâmi, Nafahât al-ons men hazarât al-qods, ed. Mahmud ‘Âbedi (Tehran, 2011). 42 Cf. Serge de Laugier de Beaurecueil, “L’Ilāhī-Nāmè de Ḫwājè ʿAbdallah Anṣārī, Bulletin de l’Institut français d’Archéologie Orientale du Caire 47 (1948), pp. 151–70; cited in Baldick, “Medieval Ṣufī Literature,” p. 88.

172

PERSIAN EXPOSITORY AND ANALYTICAL PROSE

The Monâjât-nâme of Ansâri can be particularly noted for its eloquence. With its episodic, rather than linear, structure it has a form suitable for random perusal, and its elegant use of Persian combined with rhyming prose facilitates a meditative reading. Although any sort of monâjât and the prayers associated with it are personal and introspective, as a genre monâjât-nâme in general conveys a broader framework of textual experience and thus provides a wide range of shared expressions and invocations. Its rhythmic structure with short entries brings it closer to poetry or versified prose.43 Also, given its subject matter, Monâjât-nâme is not polemical—although Ansari, similar to a number of other major Sufi authors, also wrote or lectured a fair amount of polemics in refutation of the teachings of those whose ideas he disapproved (such as the followers of scholastic rationalism). However, Monâjât-nâme is entirely an introspective, meditative, and devotional text.44 Ansâri’s other works in Persian include a short treatise entitled Ketâb‑e sad meydân (The Book of Hundred Fields), which is a commentary on the Qur’anic verse “If you love Allâh, follow me, and Allâh will love you” (3:31). This book is based on notes taken from Ansâri’s discourses in 1056–57 in Herat, in which he formulates the spiritual steps in following the Sufi path. Accordingly, the “advance towards God coincides with the growing of love, which is first rightness [or rectitude] (rāstī), then intoxication (mastī), and finally annihilation (nīstī).”45

43 For Ansâri’s style of versified prose, see Jan Rypka, “History of Persian Literature up to the Beginning of the 20 th Century,” in Jan Rypka, HIL, pp. 234–35; and Bahâr, Sabk-shenâsi, II pp. 240–44. 44 For this work see further, Bo Utas, “The Munājāt or Ilāhī-nāmah of ʿAbdu’llāh Anṣârî,” Manuscripts of the Middle East 3 (1988), pp. 83–87, reprinted in Bo Utas, Manuscript, Text and Literature (Wiesbaden, 2008), pp. 63–74. 45 See Abd-Allâh Ansâri, Kitâb-e sad meydân, ed. Serge de Laugier de Beaureceuil, Mélanges Islamologiques 2 (1954), pp. 1–90. For Ansari and the above citation, see Serge de Laugier de Beaureceuil, “ʿAbdallāh Ansāri,” in EIr I, pp. 187–90. For Ansâri and selections from his works, see also A. G. Ravan Farhadi, Abdullah Ansari of Herat (1006–1089 CE): An Early Sufi Master (Oxford and New York, 1996).

173

PERSIAN PROSE

In addition to Monâjât-nâme and Ketâb‑e sad meydân other Persian works, mostly oral utterances, by Ansâri that were collected or remembered by his disciples, include: Nasâyeh (Recommendations), councils on practical reason and moral teachings; Zâd al-ârefin (Provisions for Mystics), on speculative mysticism; and Kanz al-sâlekin (Treasure for Wayfarers), also known as Ganjnâme (lit. The Book of Treasure), on practical mysticism. There are also further writings on various aspects of mysticism, such as Haft hesâr (Seven Fortresses); Mahabbat-nâme (The Book of Love); Qalandar-nâme (The Book of the [Wandering] Ascetic); Resâle-ye del va jân (Treatise on the Heart and the Soul) (also known as So’âl‑ e del az jân, lit. The Question of the Heart to the Soul); Resâle-ye vâredât (Treatise on the Occurrences); and Resâle-ye manâqeb‑e Emâm Ahmad b. Hanbal (Treatise on the Qualities of Imam Ahmad b. Hanbal).46 In addition to these we can also refer to Tabaqât al-sufiyye (Generations of Sufis), a detailed biographical roster of Sufis who had preceded Ansâri. This work, which is written “in the old language of Herat,” was compiled by Ansâri’s pupils during the sessions and gatherings that they had with him.47 Later generations of readers viewed this work as a major sourcebook for Sufi biographies. Ansâri is also widely quoted by one of his more erudite pupils, Rashid-al-Din Meybodi, in his compilation of the famous Kashf al-asrâr va oddat al-abrâr (The Unveiling of the Secrets and Provision of the Righteous), which is an extensive commentary on the Qur’an and its exegesis written in Persian.48 46 For a selection of Ansâri’s Persian writings, see further Mohammad-Javâd Shari’at. ed., Sokhanân‑e pir‑e Herât (Tehran, 1977). 47 Laugier de Beaureceuil, “‘Abdallāh Ansāri,” pp. 187–190. See Khwâja Abd-Allâh b. Mohammad Ansâri, Tabaqât-al-sufiyye, ed. Mohammad Sarvar Mowlâ’i, (Tehran, 1983). See further Mohammad Sarvar Mowlâ’i, “Tabaqâqat al-Sufiyye-ye Ansâri,” in Dânesh-nâme-ye jahân-e Eslâm I (Tehran, 1990), p. 6428 (online at http://lib.eshia.ir/23019/1/6428). 48 See Abu’l-Fazl Rashid-al-Din Meybodi, Kashf al-asrâr va oddat al-abrâr, ed. Ali-Asghar Hekmat (10 vols., Tehran, 1952–60). For selections of this work in English translation, see William C. Chittick, tr., The Unveiling of the Mysteries and the Provision of the Pious (Amman, 2014). For Meybodi, see further Annabel Keeler, “Meybodi, Abu’l-Fażl Rašid-al-Din,” in EIr online ed.

174

PERSIAN EXPOSITORY AND ANALYTICAL PROSE

Ahmad Ghazâli’s Savâneh al-eshq Ahmad Ghazâli (d. 1126), was a noted Persian Sufi author and the younger brother of the influential jurist and theologian AbuHâmed Mohammad Ghazâli (d. 1111).49 Ahmad Ghazâli was a follower of the Shâfe’i school of feqh, in which he was in his own right a noted authority. He authored several resâles on Sufism, including Savâneh al-eshq (Incidents of Love), which is a major text in Persian Sufi writings. Savâneh was written around 1114 and consists of 77 short sections, each referred to as a chapter (fasl). The text also occasionally incorporates verse in order to clarify some of the complexities and allusions that he used in his prose. In the opening lines of Savâneh, Ghazâli provides an overall sense of the text and what prompted him to write it. ‫بسم الله الرحمن الرحیم‬ ،‫رب العالمین و الصلوة علی سیدنا محمد و آله اجمعین‬ ّ ‫) الحمد الله‬1(

ِ ‫حدیث عشق در حروف‬ ‫این حروف مشتمل است بر فصولی چند که بمعانیِ عشق تع ّلق دارذ اگر چه‬ ِ ‫ و اگر چه‬،‫بدامن خدرِ آن ابکار نرسذ‬ ‫دست حروف‬ ‫و در کلمه نگنجذ زیرا که آن معانی ابکارست که‬ ِ ‫ و لیکن عبارت درین حدیث‬،‫ما را کار آنست که ابکارِ معانی را بذکورِ حروف دهیم در خلوات الکالم‬ ّ ‫اشارتست بمعانی (؟) متفادت نکرده بوذ و آن نکره (؟) در‬ ].[‫حق کسی بُوذ که ذوقش نبوَ ذ‬ ِ ِ ‫ و بدل حروف حدود السیف‬،‫عبارت اشارت‬ ‫اشارت عبارت و یکی‬ ‫ یکی‬:‫ و از این دو اصل شکافذ‬ ِ ‫ و اگر در جملۀ این فصول چیزی روَ ذ که آن مفهوم نگردذ ازین‬،‫بصیرت باطن نتوان دیذ‬ ‫بوَ ذ اما جز به‬ ].[‫معانی بوَ ذ و الله اعلم‬ ِ ‫بنزدیک من بجای عزیزترین براذرانست و مرا [با] او انسی تمام است از من‬ ‫) دوستی عزیز که‬2(  ‫در خواست کرد که آنچه ترا فرا خاطر آید در معنیِ عشق فصلی چند اثبات کن تا بهر وقتی مرا با او‬ ِ ].[‫تمسکی می سازم‬ ‫دست طلبم‬ ‫ و چون‬،‫ُانسی باشذ‬ ِ ّ ‫بدامن وصل نرسذ بذان تعلل کنم و بابیات او‬ ّ ‫) اجابت کردم و چند فصل اثبات کردم قضای‬3(  ‫ چنانکه تع ّلق بهیچ جانب ندارذ در‬،‫حق او را‬ ِ ‫ تا او‬،‫بشرط آنکه درو هیچ حواله نبوَ ذ نه بخالق نه بمخلوق‬ ،‫اغراض عشق‬ ‫حقایق عشق و احوال و‬ ِ ِ 50… ‫چون درمانذ بذین فصول تعلل کنذ‬ 49 Most of Abu-Hâmed Mohammad Ghazâli’s voluminous works were in Ara­bic, but he also wrote in an equally elegant style in Persian, mostly in the tradition of advice literature and ethics, such as Kimiyâ-ye sa‘ âdat and Nasihat-al-moluk. See Louise Marlowe, “Advice Literature,” in the present volume. 50 Ahmad Ghazali, Savâneh, ed. Hellmut Ritter (first edition, Istanbul, 1942), reprinted with an introduction by Nasrollâh Purjavâdi, (Tehran, 1989), pp. 2–3.

175

PERSIAN PROSE In the Name of God Most Merciful and Compassionate Praise belongs to God, Lord of the worlds,51 [and the sequel is for those who are righteous,52 and there shall be no enmity except for wrongdoers].53 And blessing be upon our lord Muhammad and his righteous family. (1) Here follow my words consisting of a few chapters about the (mystical) ideas (ma‛ānī) of love (‘ishq), though, in fact, love cannot be expressed in words nor contained in sentences; for the ideas of love are like virgins and the hand of words cannot reach the edge of the curtain of those virgins. Even though our task here is to marry the virgin ideas to the men of words in the private chambers of speech, yet outward expressions (‘ibārat) in this discourse cannot but be allusions to different ideas. Moreover, this indefiniteness (of words) exists only for those who have no “immediate tasting” (dhawq). From this idea originates two roots: the allusive meaning (ishārat) of an outward expression (‘ibārat) and the outward expression of an allusive meaning. However, in the innermost heart of words is concealed the sharp edges of a sword, but they can be perceived only by inner vision (baṣīrat). Hence, if in all of the chapters (of this book) something is said which is not comprehended, then it must be one of these (esoteric) ideas. And God knows best.   (2) An intimate friend whom I consider the dearest of all the brethren (of the path)—known as Sā’īn al-Dīn—asked me to write (a book consisting of) a few chapters on anything that comes to me, extempore, on the (mystical) meaning of love, so that whenever he feels himself intimately close to love and yet his hand of aspiration cannot reach its skirt of union, he can then read the book for (his own) consolation54 and use the meaning of its verses as something resembling (the Reality of love itself).   (3) In order to be fair to him (as a friend), I agreed and wrote a few chapters, in such a way that they are not devoted to any particular view, on the realities, modes, and aims of love, on the condition that it should not be attributed to either the Creator or the creature. (I 51 52 53 54

Qur’an 1:2. Qur’an 7:128. Qur’an 2:193 The verb ta’allol kardan means, more precisely, to console oneself with something which is not the real object of one’s desire, but is a substitute for it.

176

PERSIAN EXPOSITORY AND ANALYTICAL PROSE wrote this book) just in order that my friend might find consolation in these chapters when he is helpless…55

Eyn-al-Qozât Hamadâni’s Tamhidât and Letters Abu’l-Ma’âli Abd-Allâh b. Abi-Bakr Mohammad Miyâneji Hamadâni (1098–1131), commonly known as Eyn-al-Qozât Hamadâni, was a judge, philosopher, and significant mystic. He was executed in Hamadân at a young age on the orders of the Seljuk Sultan Mahmud II (r. 1118–31) on charges of spreading heresy. Eyn-al-Qozât (lit. “The Eye of the Judges”—a title that was mostly used for him by the Sufis) had come from a line of scholars and judges, some of whom, including his father and grandfather, had fallen to a similar fate.56 Among Eyn-al-Qozât’s more influential teachers and guides particular reference should be made to Mohammad b. Hammuye (d. 1130) and the above mentioned Ahmad Ghazâli, who had initiated him to Sufi meditation and practice and with whom Eyn-al-Qozât maintained close ties and correspondence until his death.57 By extension, he was also influenced by Hallâj (d. 922), with whom he shared a similar fate some two centuries later. In spite of his short life Eyn-alQozât left behind a number of influential works in Ara­bic and Persian. His major works in Ara­bic that have survived include Shakvâ al-gharib (Grievance of the Stranger), a short resâle in the tradition of apologia that was composed during his imprisonment in Baghdad in refutation of charges of heresy, and, prior to that, a more systematic work Zobdat al-haqâ’eq (Choicest Extracts of Verities) on Divine existence, written when Eyn-al-Qozât was merely twenty four years old. Eyn-al-Qozât’s Persian writings that have survived include, most notably, the Tamhidât (Prolegomena) and also a collection of 55 Ahmad ibn Mohammad Ghazâli, Savâneh, tr. with comm. and notes Nasrollah Pourjavady as Sawānih: Inspirations from the World of Pure Spirits, the Oldest Persian Sufi Treatise on Love (London and New York, 1986), pp. 15–16 (quoted by permission of Taylor and Francis Group). 56 For Eyn-al-Qozât, see G. Böwering, “ʿAyn-al-Qożāt Hamadānī,” in EIr, III, pp. 140–43. 57 Böwering, “‘Ayn-al-Qożāt Hamadānī.”

177

PERSIAN PROSE

his various letters to pupils and fellow Sufis. Tamhidât deals mostly with speculative questions and meditations on Divine essence and attributes, prophetic appointment, resurrection, and various states of the soul prior to residing in the body and after ascending from it. It also includes more particular questions of mysticism with regard to Divine love—such as devotion to Divine love, spiritual endurance in seeking Divine love, and stages in the annihilation (fanâ) in Divine love. The book consists of some ten sections or tamhid (prolegomenon) that together deal with various stages of attaining self-knowledge and appreciating Divine attributes. 58 Tamhidât adopts a general instructive style as if directed to specific audience or a certain circle of disciples. However, by its own admission, it was written for ideal “absent readers” (mokhâtabân‑e ghâyeb) who would come at some time in the future and benefit from it: ِ ‫مخاطبان غایب اند که خواهند پس از ما آمدن که‬ ،‫اما مقصود‬ ّ ،‫اما با تو گفته ام که مخاطب تویی‬ ّ ّ « ‫فواید عجیب را در کتاب ما بدیشان خواهند نمودن که‬ .‫الغائب» این مقام باشد‬ ‫اهدُ َی َری ماال َیری‬ ِ ‫الش‬ ُ 59.‫ غایب نشوی‬،‫ حاضر نباشی؛ و تا حاضر نباشی‬،‫در این مقام تا غایب نشوی‬

Although I have told you that you are the reader, my aim [in writing] is those absent readers who will come after our time and to whom the extraordinary benefits of this book will be revealed, for “the one who is present sees, but the one who is absent does not see.”60 In this state, unless you become absent, you shall not be present; and unless you are present, you shall not be absent.61

Eyn-al-Qozât maintains a conversational style in his Letters, which are generally written in clear Persian prose with occasional use of verse. The letters are mostly instructive and pedagogic yet passionate in summarizing fundamental concepts and teachings of 58 For the Persian works of Eyn-al-Qozât, see Eyn-al-Qozât Hamadâni, Tamhidât, ed. with introd. and additions by Afif Oseyrân (Tehran, 1963), and Nâme-hâ-ye Eyn-al-Qozât Hamadâni, eds. Ali-Naqi Monzavi and Afif Oseyrân (2 vols., Tehran, 1983; vol. III, ed. Ali-Naqi Monzavi, Tehran, 1998). 59 ‘Eyn-al-Qozât Hamadâni, Tamhidât, p. 327 (§ 429). English translation is by the present author. 60 This is an Ara­bic proverb. 61 English translation is by the present author.

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PERSIAN EXPOSITORY AND ANALYTICAL PROSE

mysticism. The following excerpt from the Third Letter is representative of the Letters overall style and diction: ‫نامۀ سوّ م‬

‫بسم الله الرحمن الرحیم‬

ِ ‫ و هنوز آنچه مقصود است تمام‬،‫حقیقت ن ّیت چیزی نویسم‬ ‫ دو روز است تا می خواهم که در‬-81 ‫ أطال الله فی رضاه بقاک که در مکتوب دیروزینه بیان کرده بودم که هیچ‬،ّ‫ بدان ای برادر أعز‬.‫ننوشتم‬ ‫ تا‬.‫ و قدرت خادم ارادتست‬،‫کاری از آدمی در وجود نیاید ا ّلا بواسطۀ صفتی که آن را قدرت خوانند‬ ِ ‫ پس پدید‬،‫ارادت کاری نبود‬ ‫ و چون در آدمی‬.‫ارادت فرمان ندهد از قدرت هیچ مقدور در وجود نیاید‬ :‫ و از آنجا که نظر عموم بود گویند‬.‫ و حادث از سببی مستغنی نبود‬،‫ پس این ارادت حادث است‬،‫آید‬ ‫علم‬ ِ ‫ و چون‬.‫ که فالن کار کردن به از ناکردن است‬،‫سبب حدوث ارادت علم بود که در آدمی وادید آید‬ ‫ این کفر‬،‫ و از آنجا که نظر خصوص است‬.‫ ارادت ضروری الوجود بود‬،‫قاطع و یا ظنّ غالب وادید آید‬ ‫ از آن مستغنی نباشیم در‬،‫ اما هم در اشارت کردن بدان‬،‫ اگر چه کفر بود در دیدۀ درون‬،‫ لعمری‬.‫بود‬ ‫ قدم بضرورت‬،‫ چون ما بکعبه رویم و خواهیم که قدم بعرفات نهیم‬.‫ارشاد تو و امثال تو از مبتدیان‬ ‫اما آن راه ماست نه منزلست‬ ّ ،‫ و اگر چه دانیم که کعبه نه حلوان است‬،‫در کوفه و بغداد و حلوان نهیم‬ 62.‫و نه مقصود و نه مقصد‬

Third Letter In the Name of God the Compassionate the Merciful For the past two days, I have been trying to write something about the nature of intent and have not yet managed to write down in full what I had in mind. Know my dearest friend (May God for his own satisfaction prolong your life!) that in my yesterday’s letter I had stated that nothing emanates from man unless through an attribute that is called power, and power is servant to will. Unless the will commands, nothing will issue from power into existence. And if there is no will in someone to do something, [but] then it appears, then this [ensued] will shall be the effect, and the effect is not needless of a cause. And [then], in accordance with general opinion, they say: the cause for the will is the knowledge that has appeared in man, [and] that doing a certain thing is better than not doing it. And if the convincing [and the undoubted] knowledge or [its opposite] the overriding doubt appear, [then] the will’s existence shall be necessary.63 And since it is the particular opinion,64 this is [same as] 62 Eyn-al-Qozât Hamadâni, Nâme-hâ, p. 17. 63 That is, it will be necessary for the will to exist. 64 That is, since it is the opinion of the initiated few.

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PERSIAN PROSE sacrilege. I swear that although this may be sacrilege to the inner eye, we are not needless of pointing it to you and the novice like you [and] offering our guidance. As we set out to go to [Mecca and visit] the Ka’ba and [there] to set foot on [the pilgrim’s route of] Arafât, necessarily we shall [have to first] set foot in Kufa and Baghdad and Helwân, and although we know that Ka’ba is not Helwân, that is [only] our path not [our] station and neither is it [our] purpose nor [our] final destination.65

Alâ’-al-Dowle Semnâni’s Mosannafât Rokn-al-Din Abu’l-Makârem Ahmad b. Sharaf-al-Din Mohammad b. Ahmad Biyâbânaki (d. 1336), known as Alâ’-al-Dowle Semnâni, was also among the major Sufi authors of the Ilkhanid period, whose various Persian writings, some of which have been compiled by the modern Afghan scholar Najib Mâyel-Heravi under the title of Mosannafât (Collected Works), have a remarkably lucid style and present an outline of Sufi stages in meditative experience and symbolic terminology.66 This volume consists of some twelve resâles of varying length together with eight letters and Sufi authorizations to his disciples and communication from his contemporaries. A relatively longer and particularly significant resâle in this collection is Bayân al-ehsân le-ahl al-erfân (The Explication of Good Works for those Endowed with Gnosis), in which Semnâni articulates some of his key concepts and terminology. It consists of an introductory note and four fasls (chapters)—respectively 65 English translation is by the present author. 66 Ahmad b. Mohammad Alâ’-al-Dowle Semnâni, Mosannafât‑e Fârsi, ed. Najib Mâyel-Heravi, (Tehran, 2004). For studies on Semnâni’s life and work, see J. van Ess, “‘Alā’ al-Dawla Semnānī,” in EIr, I, pp. 774–77; Jamal J. Elias, The Throne Carrier of God: The Life and Thought of ʿAlāʾ ad-dawla as-Simnānī (New York, 1995); and more recently Devin DeWeese, “‘Alā’ alDawla Simnānī’s Religious Encounters at the Mongol Court near Tabriz,” in Judith Pfeiffer, ed., Politics, Patronage and the Transmission of Knowledge in 13th –15th Century Tabriz, (Leiden and Boston, 2014), pp. 35–76, and Giovanni Maria Martini, ʿAlāʾ al-Dawla al-Simnānī between Spiritual Authority and Political Power: A Persian Lord and Intellectual in the Heart of the Ilkhanate (Leiden and Boston, 2018).

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PERSIAN EXPOSITORY AND ANALYTICAL PROSE

on elâhiyyât (theology), nobovviyyât (prophetic appointments), velâyat (guardianship), and ehsân (benefaction). Semnâni has been noted as a fierce opponent of the growing influence in Iran of the ideas of the renowned philosopher and mystic Ebn-al-Arabi (d. 1240). He viewed Ebn-al-Arabi’s “ontological towhid” and his general philosophical recourses into theology incompatible with unconditional belief and therefore heretical.67 Instead he advocated a more “dynamic type of mysticism which centers around becoming and which sees in divine Being not so much God’s essence as the “act of giving existence” (fe’l al-ijâd).”68 The following paragraph from the first chapter of the treatise is indicative of Semnâni’s views and of his overall prose style: ‫ نه بدان اعتبار که حق تعالی را قدیم‬،‫— و آن کس که جهان را قدیم می گوید به اعتبار زمان‬401 ‫ و‬.‫ تکفیرش مکن[؛] از آن سبب که زمان عبارت از تعدد ادوار افالک است‬،‫] کافر نیست‬،[‫می گوید‬ ‫ و هر عقل و نفس هم از جهات‬.‫ صورت و ماده‬:‫ و جسم مؤلف از دو جوهر است‬.‫افالک اجسام اند‬ ‫ و بی خالف وجود جوهر عقل که‬، ‫اند و پیش از تألیف آن دو جوهر صورت و ماده موجود بوده‬ .‫ و پیش از زمان ثابت چگونه گفتن که او به زمان مسبوق باشد‬،‫معارف است در عالم امکان متحقق‬ ‫ تکفیرش مکن؛ … معنی قدیمی که بر حق اطالق‬،‫ فالن چیز قدیم است‬:‫زنهار به مجرد آنکه کسی گوید‬ 69.‫می کنیم آن است که الیسبقه شییء‬

104—And the person who calls the world eternal on the basis of time and not on the basis of the evidence that calls the Almighty God eternal, is not a heretic and you should not denounce him as such[;] because time is the multiplicity [and recurrence] of the cyclic turns of the celestial orbits.70 And celestial orbits are bodies. And body consists of two essences: form and matter. And every [faculty of] reason and [every] self too have come about from [different] directions[,] and prior to their association those two essences of form and matter [already] existed, and with no faults of the essence of the [faculty] of reason which is the [attainment of] knowledge within the realm of the realized [and attained] possibility,[—]and [hence] prior 67 68 69 70

J. van Ess, “‘Alā’ al-Dawla Semnānī,” in EIr, I, pp. 774–77. Van Ess, “‘Alā’ al-Dawla Simnānī.” ‘Alâ’-al-Dowle Semnâni, Mosannafât‑e fârsi, p. 207. Here, the reference being to the world of medieval astrology, a more literal translation is given for aflâk in terms of celestial orbits and planets, rather than the more conventional “heavens,” which otherwise would have been too broad.

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PERSIAN PROSE to the fixed [and atemporal] time how could it be said that it [i. e. reason] is preceded by time[?] Behold, do not denounce as heretic anyone who says that certain thing is eternal … The eternal quality that we attribute to God is that [God] is not preceded by anything.71

The above passage is written in compressed style and requires a commentary. “Qadim,” for example, is eternal but what Semnâni is subtly doing is distinguishing between “qadim” in its time dimension (i. e., eternal), as well as in the more common sense of ancient in time, and, in the last few words when applied to the Almighty, in its connotation of precedence. In other words, he takes the notion of qadim “Out of Time,” thus making an absolute, i. e., timeless, statement that God precedes all—meaning, He is, of course, outside Time. All this is in fact related to the earlier debates about eternity and the concept of azal, or the eternity parte ante question in, for example, Avicenna and Ebn-Kammuna (d. 1284).72 Prior to the time of Semnâni this question had also been raised by, for example, Ahmad Sam‘âni (d. 1140) in his widely praised Rowh al-arvâh (Repose of the Spirits), which was an extensive commentary on Divine names that was written in Persian. Rowh al-arvâh has been further credited for having influenced Meybodi’s Kashf al-asrâr, referred to earlier, and for the “elegance” and the “extra ordinary beauty” of its prose style.73 The following line from Rowh al-arvâh, for example, is indicative of the sort of argument that was also later echoed by Semnâni: ‫موحدان آن است که دنیا فانیست و خلق‬ ّ ‫آن مذهب زنادقه است که خلق فانی و دنیا باقی؛ اما مذهب‬ 74.‫باقی‬

71 English translation is by the present author. 72 In this context, and relating to the above discussion of qadim, see Lukas Muehlethaler, “Revising Avicenna’s Ontology of the Soul: Ibn Kammūna on the Soul’s Eternity a Parte Ante,” The Muslim World 102 (July/October 2012), pp. 597–616. 73 See, respectively, Ali-Asghar Seyfi, “Ta’thir‑e Rowh al-arvâh dar Tafsir‑e Kashf al-asrâr,” in Yad-Allâh Jalâli-Pandari, ed., Yâd-nāme-ye Abu’l-Fazl Rashid-al-Din Meybodi, Vol. I (Yazd, 1999), pp. 356–94. 74 Shahâb-al-din Ahmad b. Mansur Sam‘âni, Ruh-al-arvâh: fi sharh‑e asmâ’ al-malek al-fattâh, ed. Najib Mâyel Heravi, (Tehran, 1989), p. 528.

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PERSIAN EXPOSITORY AND ANALYTICAL PROSE Religion of the heretics is [to say] that the creation is finite and the world is eternal, but religion of the monotheists is that the world is finite and the creation is eternal.75

Sam’âni’s version, similar to the one that was subsequently expressed by Semnâni, does not in any way contradict the view that God is outside time and created the world ex nihilo—once He creates souls, they last forever.76 Different sections of Mosannafât display Semnâni’s fundamental views on mysticism, include a broad range of references to past Sufi masters, and also reflect his observations on spiritual stations of Sufi experience. Additional collections of Semnâni’s Persian discourses are included in the much celebrated Chehel Majles (Forty Sessions), also known with different titles such as “Malfuzât” (Spoken Words) and Favâ’ed (Benefits).77 By the time of Semnâni there is a vast corpus of Sufi writings in Persian prose and its language was already firmly in place. Abd-al-Rahmân Jâmi’s Lavâyeh Nur-al-Din Abd-al-Rahmân b. Ahmad b. Mohammad (d. 1492), widely known as Jâmi, was a remarkable author of a broad range 75 English translation is by the present author. 76 On Sam’âni, see further, William C. Chittick, “Aḥmad Sam’ānī on Divine Mercy,” Sufi (Autumn 1995), pp. 5–11. 77 Alâ’-al-Dowle Semnâni, Chehel majles, tr. Amir Eqbâl Sistâni, ed. Abd-alRafiʿ Haqiqat (Rafi’), (Tehran, 1978); for later editions, see Alâ’-al-Dowle Semnâni, Chehel majles yâ Resâle-ye Eqbâliyye, ed. with introd. and additions by Najib Mâyel-Heravi (Tehran, 1987); and W. M. Thackston, ed., ʿAlā’uddawla Simnānī: Opera Minora (Cambridge, Mass., 1988), which includes some of the shorter writings of Semnâni. In the latter edition, Chehel Majles, following Amir Eqbâl Sistâni, the original transcriber of the sessions, appears as Resâle-ye Eqbâliye: Favâyed‑e Sheykh Alâ’-al-Dowle Semnâni. For a discussion on the symbolic language of Chehel Majles, see Nasr-Allâh Purjavâdi, “Zabân‑e hâl dar âsâr‑e Ala’-al-Dowle Semnâni,” Nashr‑e Dânesh 20/4 (2003), pp. 25–35. For Semnâni’s correspondence with ‘Abd-al-Rahmân Esfarâyeni (d. 1317), his onetime spiritual advisor, see Hermann Landolt, ed., Correspondance spirituelle échangée entre Nuroddin Esfarayeni (ob. 717/1317) et son disciple ‘Alaoddawleh Semnani (ob. 736/1336) (Tehran, 1972).

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PERSIAN PROSE

of works in poetry and prose in both Persian and Ara­bic. He is particularly noted for the composition of a large volume of poetical works, writings on music, as well as treatises on theological and mystical topics.78 Among the latter group particular attention can be given to Lavâyeh, which is a collection of some thirty seven shorter chapters or essays (lâyehe), and has been credited for its lucid Persian style. The central theme of Lavâyeh is on the unity of being and existence, a theme that was particularly expounded in the writings of Ebn-al-Arabi and his followers. In contrast to Semnâni, Jâmi was receptive to the ideas of Ebn-al-Arabi, and in Lavâyeh he aimed to elucidate some of the complexities of Sufi teachings as expressed in Ebn-al-Arabi’s or in his own Ara­bic writings. Jâmi’s Persian works in prose also include Nafahât al-ons (Breaths of Intimacy), in which he drew on Ansâri’s above-mentioned Tabaqât al-sufiyye; this work consists of the biographies of former Muslim mystics from earlier periods down to Jâmi’s own time.79 The few representative authors that were briefly noted above, together with many more, effectively contributed to the gradual development of a remarkable legacy of meditative writing in Persian both in prose and in verse. By the end of the 15th century this legacy had already established its conceptual domain, technical terminology, and receptive circles, which in turn directly contributed to a wider circulation of earlier works and also to further composition of new texts. In retrospect it may be argued that this legacy was just as significant and formative for the intellectual history as it was for literary history and, as will be noted in the following section, on the whole it provided a multilayered link between the 78 For Jâmi’s life and works and his place in Sufism, see respectively, Paul Losensky, “Jāmi i. Life and Works,” in EIr, XIV, pp. 469–75; Hamid Algar, “Jāmi ii. and Sufism,” in EIr XIV, pp. 475–79. Jâmi’s own major writings in prose include Lavâyeh, in Majmu’e-ye Mowlâ Jâmi (Istanbul, 1309/1891), repr. in Iraj Afshâr, ed., Seh resâle dar tasavvof (Tehran, 1981), pp. 3–103; also ed. Mohammad Hosayn Tasbihi (Tehran, n. d.) ; ed. and tr. Yann Richard as Les Jaillissements de Lumière (Paris, 1982) ; Jâmi, Naqd al-nosus fi sharh‑e naqsh al-fosus, ed. William C. Chittick and preface by Sayyed Jalâl-al-Din Ȃshtiyâni (Tehran, 1977); Jâmi, Bahârestân, ed. Esmâ’il Hâkemi, (7th ed., Tehran, 2011). 79 Abd-al-Rahmân Jâmi, Nafahât-al-ons men hazarât-al-qods, ed. Mahmud Âbedi (Tehran, 1991, new ed., 2011).

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classical writings and the works that were produced in later periods within new contexts, assuming new directions, and finding a new range of audience.

3. Early Modern and Modern Periods In assessing variations of Persian prose, it is in fact from the Safavid period (1501–1722) onwards that we can talk with more evidence and precision about the text, the author, and the intended readership. In this period, the impact of Shiʿism, as the official doctrine, on scholastics, philosophy, and on bureaucratic and legal writings is particularly significant. The establishment of the Safavid state in Iran, especially following the transfer of its capital city to Isfahan, provided a new context for Shi’i scholars and jurists to articulate and further define various branches of Shi’i learning—ranging from Imamological literature to Shi’i jurisprudence (feqh). Although a significant portion of the material thus produced was in Ara­bic, they impacted the subsequent production of religious practical handbooks which were written in Persian. It is widely believed that with the establishment of the Safavids, an intellectual migration among some Shi’i clerics took place to Iran, mostly from the Persian Gulf island of Bahrain and also from the Ottoman Levant (Jabal al-Âmel), and that they effectively contributed to the articulation of various branches of Shi’i learning. However, in spite of trans-regional communication and reciprocity, such exchanges cannot be exaggerated nor regional and doctrinal variations within Shi’ism be ignored.80 The Safavid period also impacted the direction of its own major intellectual 80 For a critical assessment of this view, see Andrew J. Newman, “The Myth of the Clerical Migration of Safawid Iran: Arab Shiite Opposition to ‘Ali al-Karaki and Safawid Shiism,” Die Welt des Islams n. s. 33/1 (1993), pp. 66– 112. For additional aspects of Safavid intellectual history with particular reference to the impact of epistolary writings on philosophy, doctrine, and politics, see Marco Di Branco, “The ‘Perfect King’ and his Philosophers: Politics, Religion and Graeco-Ara­bic Philosophy in Safavid Iran: The case of Uṯūlūğiyā,” Studia graeco-arabica 4 (2014), pp. 191–218.

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PERSIAN PROSE

components—Shi’ism and Sufism, and also philosophy. In addition to its former utopian and millenarian dimensions, Shi’ism now found new grounds, in particular in juristic terms, as can be seen in further development of Shi’i feqh. Sufism, too, gradually moved away from its earlier exceptionalism and came to assume and prefer the title of erfân (gnosis), and thus it was “to become intellectualized and thoroughly incorporated into Shi’i theology.”81 To a large extent Safavid philosophy was also fused with speculative theology and mysticism and as such defined the direction of the philosophical enterprise in Iran ever since. The overall framework of this transformation can be clearly seen in the works of Mollâ Sadrâ.

Philosophy Mollâ Sadrâ and Se Asl Sadr-al-Din Mohammad b. Ebrâhim Qavâm Shirâzi, known as Mollâ Sadrâ (d. 1640), is arguably amongst the most influential philosophers of the Safavid period. His major contribution has been viewed in terms of synthesizing previous trends within a comprehensive philosophical system of his own, a transcendental system with divergent elements from the past including the peripatetic philosophy of Avicenna and the philosophy of Illumination of Sohravardi. Mollâ Sadrâ has also exercised a significant impact on Persian philosophical discourse up to the present, as almost all major philosophers wrote commentaries on his writings and have devoted considerable effort to comment and explain various aspects of his ideas and writings. The main corpus of Mollâ Sadrâ’s extensive writings is in Ara­bic.82 His only works in Persian consist 81 John Cooper, “Some Observations on the Religious Intellectual Milieu of Safawid Persia,” in Farhad Daftary, ed., Intellectual Traditions in Islam (London and New York, 2001), p. 158. 82 For Mollâ Sadrâ, see Sajjad H. Rizvi, Mulla Sadra and Metaphysics: Modulation of Being (London, 2013), where a bibliographical list of his works is also given, pp. 185–87. For additional bibliographical notes, see Rezâ Ostâdi, “Ta’lifât‑e Mollâ Sadrâ,” Â’ine-ye Pazhuhesh 57 (1999).

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of a short resâle on the attainment of the knowledge of the self, entitled Se asl (Three Principles), some letters and a poem in the form of a mathnavi.83 In Se asl, Mollâ Sadrâ argues that self-knowledge constitutes the existential ground for the conscious being and thus “ignorance about the knowledge of the self” is the first principle which, if not eradicated, generates more comprehensive variations of ignorance concerning the meaning of life, happiness, and salvation. The second principle standing in the way of spiritual elevation is the love of the material world and living according to carnal instincts. The third obstructive principle originates from the trappings of the carnal self. In Mollâ Sadrâ’s own words: ‫ فصل اول در بیان اصل اول‬،‫باب اول‬ ‫و آن جهلست بمعرفت نفس که او حقیقت آدمیست و بنای ایمان بآخرت و معرفت حشر و نشر ارواح‬ ‫ و این معظم ترین اسباب شقاوت و ناکامی‬.‫و اجساد بمعرفت دلست و اکثر آدمیان از آن غافلند‬ ‫عقباست که اکثر خلق را فروگرفته در دنیا چه هر که معرفت نفس حاصل نکرده خدای را نشناسد که‬ 84… ‫من عرف نفسه فقد عرف ر ّبه و هر که خدای را نشناسد با دواب و انعام برابر باشد‬ ‫باب دوم فصل دوم در بیان اصل دوم از اصول ثلثه مذکوره‬ ‫حب‬ ‫حب جاه و مال و میل بشهوات و لذات و سایر تمتعات نفس حیوانی که جامع همه‬ ‫و آن‬ ّ ّ 85… ‫دنیاست‬

‫باب سوم فصل س ّیم در اصل س ّیم‬ ‫و آن تسویالت نفس اماره است و تدلیسات شیطان مکار و لعین نابکار که بد را نیک و نیک را بد‬ ‫وا می نماید و معروف را منکر و منکر را معروف می شمارد و کارش ترویج سخنان باطل و تزیین‬ 86… ‫ و حاصلش بجز خسران دنیا و آخرت چیزی نیست‬.]‫عمل غیر صالح و تلبیس و تمویه … [است‬

First section of the first chapter, on the first principle [that is obstructive in the transcendence of the self]: And that is the ignorance of the knowledge of the self which is verily the essence of man and the structure of the belief in the there-after and of the knowledge of interaction of the souls and of the bodies and of the knowledge of the heart that most men are oblivious about. 83 See Mollâ Sadrâ, Resâle-ye se asl, ed. S. H. Nasr (Tehran, 1962); for a recent edition, see Mollâ Sadrâ, Se Asl, ed. Mohammad Khwâjavi (Tehran, 1997). 84 Mollâ Sadrâ, Resâle-ye se asl, ed. Nasr, p. 8. 85 Mollâ Sadrâ, Resâle-ye se asl, ed. Nasr, p. 58. 86 Mollâ Sadrâ, Resâle-ye se asl, ed. Nasr, p. 61.

187

PERSIAN PROSE And such [ignorance] is the greatest means of atrocity and disappointment that has engulfed most of the humankind in this world; for one who has not attained the knowledge of the self would not know God, as one who knows one’s self will know God, and one who does not know God will be equal to animals … Second section of the second chapter, on the second principle from the aforementioned three principles: And that is the love of fame and of possession and the want of desires and of lust and other benefits of the carnal self which is the embodiment of all worldly love … Third section of the third chapter, on the third principle: And that is the trappings of the carnal self and deceptions of the deceptive Satan, the damned wrongdoer, who makes evil to appear as good and good as evil, and counts right as wrong and wrong as right, and whose job is to spread futile words and to decorate the wrong deeds [as if they were right] and to deceive and to mislead … And the result of [all this] is nothing but loss in this world and next…87

Philosophers after Molla Sadrâ Among Molla Sadrâ’s most distinguished disciples was Abd-alRazzâq Lâhiji (d. c. 1661), whose Persian treatise Gowhar‑e morâd (The Coveted Gem) is amongst the major texts of Shi’i moral philosophy and scholastic theology. While the majority of Lâhiji’s writings were in Ara­bic, he wrote Gowhar‑e morâd in Persian in order to offer an accessible summary of his received training and a concise account of his preferred meditative methodology.88 Although Lâhiji always remained respectful of Mollâ Sadrâ and his teachings, he maintained greater affinity to the tradition of Avicenna.89 As a text, and perhaps in line with the general trend of the time, Gowhar‑e morâd is ornate in style and replete with complex terminology with recurrent use of grammatical variations of 87 English translation is by the present author. 88 Abd-al-Razzâq Lâhiji, Gowhar‑e morâd, ed. Samad Movahhed (Tehran, 1985). 89 For a general overview of Lâhiji, see W. Madelung, “‘Abd-al-Razzāq Lāhiji,” in EIr, I, pp. 154–57.

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Ara­bic synonyms. Also as a text it received wide recognition by subsequent generations of students of Shi’i theology from the late 17th century onwards. Lâhiji also wrote Sarmâye-ye imân (Faith’s Asset) in Persian, a work which was intended to further summarize Gowhar‑e morâd albeit in a more accessible prose.90 Apart from Mollâ Sadrâ and his followers, in the Safavid period we can further note a more direct recourse to the teachings of Avicenna by, most notably, Mollâ Rajab-Ali Tabrizi (d. 1670) and his pupil Qavâm-al-Din Mohammad Râzi (d. 1682). Although their writings, too, were mainly in Ara­bic, they also wrote a number of significant Persian treatises and summaries. In particular, reference should be made to Tabrizi’s short and lucid treatise Ethbât‑e vâjeb (On the Proof of the Necessary [Being]). In contrast to the more dominant views of Mollâ Sadrâ and his followers, Tabrizi’s treatise adopts a peripatetic (mashshâ’) perspective in line with the earlier tradition of Avicenna. This work consists of an introduction (moqaddame), five topics or foci (matlab), and a conclusion (khâteme).91 In similar vein further reference should also be made to Tabrizi’s disciple, Qavâm-al-Din Râzi and his two major works in Persian, Eyn al-hekme (Reflection of Philosophy) and Ta’liqât (Addenda), which are both in the form of resâle. Razi’s Persian Eyn-al-hekme, which is in fact his own translation of the Ara­ bic version that he wrote earlier and with the same title, consists of one introduction (moqaddame) and twelve chapters (sing. fasl) that deal with a number of philosophical topics such as existence, essence and appearance, causality, and teleology. Ta’liqât, on the other hand, consists of some twenty-two short “ta‘liq” (addendum), also on philosophical topics, ranging from the possibility of contingent being (mowjud) and its various postulates and 90 Abd-al-Razzâq Lâhiji, Sarmâye-ye imân dar osul‑e e’teqâdât, ed. Sâdeq Lârijâni Âmoli (Tehran, 1993). For additional introduction and samples of Lâhiji’s writings, see also Sayyed Jalaloddin Ashtiyani, ed., Anthologie des philosophes iraniens depuis le XVIIe siècle jusque à nos jours (4 vols., Tehran, 1972–75) I, pp. 272–361. 91 For a complete text of this treatise and critical commentaries, see Ashtiyani, Anthologie, I, pp. 220–43.

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predicates (sing. mahmul) to questions concerning perception and the theory of knowledge.92

Religious Practical Tracts: Resâle-ye amaliyye From the late Safavid period onwards another prose variety is found in religious practical tracts or resâle-ye amaliyye. A fundamental difference, however, should be noted here with an older tradition of “manuals” which often had strong moralizing (andarz) orientation towards, for instance, instructing the reader personally, as in, for example, texts on practical Sufi ordinances and on practical gnosis (erfân‑e amali) in general, or advising on various collective and political measures, such as texts in the earlier tradition of the mirrors for the princes (mer’ât al-omarâ) genre.93 In this context a resâle-ye amaliyye or towzih al-masâ’el (lit. “clarification of questions”), as it is also known, is a handbook of varying length which tends to address specific shari’a related practical questions and adopt accessible chapter headings and sectional structure. Topics that are commonly written in such tracts include circumstances and procedures for ritual cleansing (tahârat), rules of obligatory practices (prayer, fasting, payment of alms, and pilgrimage), matters of interpersonal relationships and transactions, practical advice to maintain religious duties during travels, etc. Delving into more technical areas of feqh is often avoided but there have been tracts, such as Jâme’‑e Abbâsi, discussed below, which included such matters in lesser or greater extent as well. Bahâ’-al-Din Âmeli’s Jâme’‑e Abbâsi Reportedly the first resâle-​ye amaliyye written in Persian during the Safavid period was by the polymath Bahâ’-al-Din Âmeli (better 92 For both Eyn al-hekme and Ta‘liqât, see Qavâm-al-Din Mohammad Râzi Tehrâni, Majmu’e-ye mosannafât, ed. Ali Owjabi (Tehran, 2010), respectively pp. 87–191 and pp. 193–258. 93 For the tradition of advice literature, Marlow, “Advice Literature,” in the present volume.

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known as Sheikh Bahâ’i, 1547–1621), who wrote it on the request of Shah Abbâs I (r. 1588–1629). Upon this undertaking, which must have been made towards the end of his life, Sheikh Bahâ’i presented it to Shah Abbâs and in deference to his patronage called it Jâme’-e Abbâsi (Abbâsi Compendium). The original plan had been to divide the resâle into twenty separate sections (sing. bâb) of which the first five were reportedly completed by Sheikh Bahâ’i himself during his lifetime and the rest were done by his pupils, most notably Nezâm-al-Din Sâvaji (d. 1629), based on the original plan.94 In turn each bâb is further divided into shorter subdivisions, namely matlab (question, issue), mabhath (topic), fasl (chapter, division), bahth (argument), and qesm ([sub-] division). On the whole this resâle articulates a broad range of practical questions from the point of view of Imâmi Shi’i law. Jâme’‑e Abbâsi also set the stage for the subsequent line of practical tracts of this kind that were written by the successive generations of Shi’i “Sources of Emulation” (sing. marja’ al-taqlid) as the highest-ranking Shi’ite clerics who could issue authoritative instructions (fatvâs) with regard to questions related to everyday moral and religious questions. However, by comparison, it included more technical issues of feqh than its successors that tended to adopt a more straightforward and public-orientated approach to facilitate their everyday use.95 In terms of textual production the tradition of writing resâle-ye amaliyye in Shi’ism, based itself on a combination of diverse accounts and narratives that were simultaneously deductive and reproductive. Shi‘i resâles can be viewed in terms of several kinds— based on received narrative (revâ’i), deductive (estedlâli), and categorical (fatâvi—i. e. based on issuing fatvâs). Sheikh Bahâi’s Jâme’‑e Abbâsi, referred to above, is a good example of combining such divergent sources. In conjunction with the production of practical manuals, further attention should be given to a very significant tradition of writing commentaries (tahshiye, corresponding with sing. hâshiye) 94 See M. Ra’iszâde, “Jâme’‑e Abbâsi” in Dânesh-nâme-ye jahân‑e Eslâm, Vol. IX (Tehran, 2005), p. 351. 95 For additional references, see Ra’iszâde, “Jâme‘‑ e ‘Abbâsi.”

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on previous works. These commentaries were of shorter or longer length and could also vary in terms of their reference to minor corrections to a more detailed analysis or criticism of the work under consideration. Similar to olum‑e naqli in general, the composition of producing commentaries also relied on long periods of apprenticeship necessary to evoke evidence and narrative. The tradition of writing commentaries thus formed a significant portion of expository prose. Mohammad-Bâqer Majlesi’s Helyat al-mottaqin Another major example in the Persian tradition of resâle-ye amaliyye is Helyat al-mottaqin (“The Adornment of the Godfearing”), written during the late Safavid period by the influential religious scholar and authority Mohammad-Bâqer Majlesi (d. 1699). The text of Helyat al-mottaqin, which was completed in 1671, is arranged into 14 chapters, each containing 12 sections, respectively symbolizing the “Fourteen Infallibles” (chahârdah ma’sum) and the Twelve Imams, and deals with a broad range of practical matters relating to manners, marriage, personal cleanliness, eating, travels, etc. By extent and coverage not all sections of Helyat al-mottaqin deal exclusively with religious transmitted traditions or injunctions regarding personal and practical questions, but throughout a good deal of popular and superstitious practices are also included.96 In the Safavid period we can further note a significant trend in producing Persian translations of some of the classical Ara­bic works of olum‑e naqli, especially major works of Hadith. This trend was also accompanied by authoring works in Persian and was carried out in tandem with translations. Among the works that were written during the Safavid period in Persian, was Sharh‑e ghorar va dorar (Description of Primary and Superior Pearls), a commentary on Hadith, by Âqâ Jamâl Khwânsâri (d. 1713) who

96 See H. Algar, “Ḥelyat al-mottaqin,” in EIr, XII, pp. 180–81. See also Ali Rahnema, Superstition as Ideology in Iranian Politics: From Majlesi to Ahmadinejad (Cambridge, 2011), pp. 240–54.

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had also actively contributed to translation efforts.97 Prior to the Safavid period, there were less works written in Persian than in Ara­bic on the transmission of traditions and specially about the biographies of narrators and transmitters (rejâl‑e hadith), perhaps because on the whole such texts were mostly part of the seminary education and were hence written and studied in Ara­bic. Also understanding their contents was not considered to be particularly difficult, something that would justify restitutions and summaries, and on the other hand they did not have a wide demand or audience beyond seminarians. However, in the field of interpretation (tafsir) there existed a longstanding tradition of Persian writing. Among the earlier and more influential works of the Shi’is, was the well-circulated tafsir written by Abuʼl-Fotuh Râzi in the 12th century. There was also an older tradition of Persian writings in Hanafi feqh, which were produced in Khorâsân and Transoxiana.98 Texts such as Jâme’‑e Abbâsi and Helyat al-mottaqin provided a framework and style for a long list of subsequent religious practical tracts that were produced in Persian during the late Safavid and Qajar (1785–1925) periods. A few representative examples, which were also named in deference to the ruling sovereigns, were Jâme’‑e Soleymâni (Soleymâni Compendium) by Nezâm-alDin Ali Musavi and dedicated to the Safavid Shah Soleymân I (r. 1666–1694), Jâme’‑e Mohammadi (Mohammadi Compendium) by Mohammad-Ja’far Astarâbâdi (d. 1847) and dedicated to Mohammad Shah Qajar (r. 1834–1848), and Jâme’‑e Nâseri (Nâseri Compendium) by Ali b. Mohammad Shari’atmadâr Astarâbâdi (son of the above-mentioned Mohammad-Ja’far, d. 1898) and dedicated to Nâser-al-Din Shah Qajar (r. 1848–1896). In addition to various sections on private law and personal transactions, the latter has also been noted for its inclusion of topics relating to public law and relations between subjects and the government, which apparently Nâser-al-Din Shâh considered to espouse as the law of the land 97 Âqâ Jamâl Khwânsâri, Sharh‑e ghorar va dorar, ed. Sayyed Jalâl-al-Din Mohaddeth Ormavi, (7 vols., Tehran, 1967). 98 For an index of these works, see Mohammad-Taqi Dâneshpazhuh, ed., Fehrestvâre-ye feqh‑e hezâr o chahârsad sâle-ye Eslâmi dar zabân‑e Fârsi, (Tehran, 1987).

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but later abandoned the plan.99 However, as will be noted below, the idea of introducing a codified set of rules that would define and protect the rights of the nation vis-à-vis the state, was continued through the subsequent range of reform resâles during the late Qajar period and contributed directly to Persian constitutional discourse of the early 20 th century.

Safavid and Qajar Epistolary Tracts Monsha’ât‑e Soleymâni During the Safavid and Qajar periods, we also have a range of epistolary tracts that were compiled in order to be instructive with regard to administrative and public communication and correspondence. Among the more articulated epistolary tracts of the Safavid period, Monsha’ât‑e Soleymâni (Soleymâni Transcripts) deserves particular attention.100 Divided into fifteen sections (sing. bâb), this volume offers a broad range of writing samples and terminology that reflect the general domain of administrative customs and traditions—i. e., the domain of orf. Early training in such style and skills often helped one’s administrative career mostly within the government but also when serving the secretarial needs of religious institutions or the merchants and land-owning classes. In bureaucratic Persian, such skills were broadly referred to as khatt va rabt (and possibly with an additional third term, zabt), comprising writing and penmanship, administrative competence and knowhow, and accounting. As a combined expression, khatt va rabt particularly came into use during the Qajar period. It included skills such as literary knowledge, command of grammar, elegant and accurate composition style, good hand-writing together with a sense of measure and aesthetic appreciation in transcribing documents, knowledge of the orf and of its diction and terminology, as well as the knowledge of traditional accounting and book-keeping   99 Ra’iszâde, “Jâme’‑e Abbâsi.” 100 Rasul Ja’fariyân, ed., Monsha’ ât‑e Soleymâni (Tehran, 2009).

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(siyâq). Works such as Monsha’ât‑e Soleymâni are informative for the range and articulation of administrative style during the late Safavid period. Vajizat al-tahrir Another example in this context is Vajizat al-tahrir (A Concise [Guide] to Composition), by Mohammad b. Sabz-Ali Esfahâni (compiled in 1830). This work is a selection of administrative and legal writings, intended to instruct proper style for future letter writing use in these fields, and as such it is also a good source for the study of both administrative and religious legal language, including both the domain of official customs in general (the domain referred to as orf), as well as writings within religious domain (or shar’).101 The book is divided into one introduction (moqaddame) and two sections (sing. bâb). The introductory part deals with explaining the terminology of such documents. The first section is dedicated to specimen of religious legal (shar’i) writings and obligatory religious ordinances which were, accordingly, collected gradually and then registered and incorporated in this volume. The second section includes a range of both religious and administrative writing templates written by the author himself. None of the sections follow any particular order or logic and various items are presented in a miscellany format. The broad range of documents that are presented here include, for example, marriage documents (sing. monâkehe-nâme), statements for granting freedom to slaves (sing. âzâd-nâmche), and for allocation or endowment of assets (vaqf), among others. On the whole the prose style and range of terminology that is used in this epistle provide an informative source for legal Persian from the early modern period. Later attempts to standardize legal terminology and, more substantively, codify laws, relied directly on such background.

101 Mohammad b. Sabz-Ali Esfahâni, Vajizat al-tahrir, ed. Rasul Ja’fariyân, (Qom, 2014).

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Parvaz‑e negâresh‑e Pârsi Another example of an epistolary tract that was produced later during the Qajar period was Parvaz‑e negâresh‑e Pârsi (Method of Writing Persian), written by Mirzâ Rezâ Afshâr, chargé d’affaires and councilor to the Persian embassy in Istanbul. Published in 1883, this work was a kind of manual designed to show its readers how to write various kinds of letters and petitions by using supposedly pure Persian vocabulary.102 For different occasions separate specimen are included and the more familiar and current equivalents of many recommended words were also given by the author on the margins of each page. In fact, this work was part of a broader trend at the time to “purify” Persian from foreign, mostly Ara­bic, loanwords. It is also evident from the text that Mirzâ Rezâ was under the influence of the Dasâtir model. Written during the 17th century by the followers of Âzar Keyvân (d. between 1609 and 1618), a Zoroastrian leader in India who was originally from Iran, the Dasâtir consisted of some sixteen shorter books, or “letters,” using allegedly pure, but mostly artificial, Persian vocabulary.103 For nearly three centuries, the terminology of Dasâtir appealed to many Persian authors who intended to purify Persian from Ara­bic but did not question the authenticity of these allegedly pure words. Prior to Parvaz‑e negâresh‑e Pârsi, Mirzâ Reza Khân also wrote Alefbâ-ye behruzi (The Alphabet of Happiness), on the reform of the Persian alphabet, where the influence of Dasâtir can also be noted.104 Earlier impact of Dasâtir can further be traced in other and more widely circulated works such as the Persian dictionary 102 See Mirzâ Rezâ Khân Afshâr Begeshlu Qazvini, Parvaz‑e negâresh‑e Pârsi, (Istanbul, 1883). For a brief introduction, see also Ali Gheissari, Iranian Intellectuals in the Twentieth Century (Austin, Tex., 1998), pp. 23–24, p. 133, n. 32). 103 As a term, dasâtir is the Ara­bic plural form of the Persian term dastur, originally dastvar in Pahlavi, with several meanings such as authority, official, vizier, permission, custom, formula, program, and grammar. Gheissari, Iranian Intellectuals, p. 133 n. 32. 104 Mirzâ Reza Khân Afshâr Begeshlu Qazvini, Alefbâ-ye behruzi, (Istanbul, 1882, 26 pp.).

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Borhân‑e qâte’ (Definite Proof), compiled by Mohammad-Hoseyn b. Khalaf Tabrizi, in 1652.105 Other figures during the late Qajar period known for their efforts to purify the language included reformist authors and critics such as Mirzâ Fath-Ali Âkhundzâde (1812–1878), Mirzâ Âqâ Khân Kermâni (1854–1897), Hâjj Zeyn-al-Âbedin Marâghe’i (1840–1910), Abd-al-Rahim Tâlebof Tabrizi (1834–1911), Mirzâ Malkom Khân (Nâzem-al-Dowle) (1833–1908), and Mirzâ Yusof Khân Tabrizi (Mostashâr-al-Dowle) (1823–1895) (more on him below). Âkhundzâde went so far as to advocate changing the way Persian was written by replacing the Ara­bic with the Latin alphabet.106 Debates on language reform and with the tendency to “purify” it, continued well into the 20th century.107

Post-Safavid Philosophy Persian philosophical texts in the early Qajar period in most part continued the Safavid tradition in both form and substance. In this context a number of summaries or commentaries on Mollâ Sadrâ, perhaps most notably by Hâjj Mollâ Hâdi Sabzavâri (1797–1873) and later by Âqâ Ali Modarres Tehrâni (1818–89), can be noted.

105 Mohammad-Hoseyn b. Khalaf Tabrizi, Borhân‑e qâte’, ed. Mohammad Mo’in (3 rd edition, Tehran, 1978). For a critical discussion of Dasâtir see Ebrâhim Purdâvud, “Dasâtir,” in Farhang‑e Irân‑e Bâstân, (Tehran, 1947), pp. 17–51. See also Fath-Allāh Mojtabā’ī, “Dasātīr,” in EIr, VIII, p. 84. 106 On Âkhundzâde, Kermâni, and Tâlebof, see respectively Fereydun Âdamiyat, Andishehâ-ye Mirzâ Fath-Ali Âkhundzâde, (Tehran, 71); idem, Andishehâ-ye Mirzâ Âqâ Khân Kermâni, (Tehran, 1967); and idem, Andishehâ-ye Tâlebof‑e Tabrizi, (Tehran, 2 nd edition, 1984). For a critical note on the excessive views on language purism of Mirzâ Rezâ Khân Afshâr and Mirzâ Âqâ Khân Kermâni, see Sayyed Hasan Taqizâde, “Lozum‑e hefz‑e Fârsi-ye fasih,” Yâdegâr 4/6 (February-March 1948), p. 14. 107 For further discussion of this topic see John R. Perry, “Language Reform in Turkey and Iran,” IJMES 17/3 (1985), pp. 295–311, and Iraj Parsinejad, “Modern Prose in Persian Literature,” in this volume.

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Hâjj Mollâ Hâdi Sabzavâri and Asrâr al-hekam. Sabzavâri represents a major link in philosophical discourse between Safavid and Qajar periods. Although his writings were mostly in Ara­bic his two books in Persian, that are written in prose, influenced later philosophical writings in style and in the range of topics. The first, Hedâyat al-tâlebin (Guide to Seekers of Knowledge), completed in 1858, consists of two sections and is mostly on prophetic appointment and on the Imams.108 The second and more significant, Asrâr al-hekam (Secrets of Philosophies), completed in 1869, was initially requested of Sabzavâri by Nâser-al-Din Shah to summarize the basic teachings of Islamic philosophy and a number of key philosophical topics, mainly regarding the question of this world and the hereafter (mabda’ va ma’âd).109 In this work Sabzavâri gives a summary of the philosophical trends that were generally associated with Avicenna and Sohravardi and then introduces the transcendental synthesis of Mollâ Sadrâ. Sabzavâri’s point of departure in this work is to classify knowledge into three categories: knowledge of God (including the knowledge of both the beginning and of the end), knowledge of one’s own self, and knowledge of what God has commanded both for the collective life or the outer path (the shari’a) and for the inner path (tariqa). The book is divided into two parts. The first deals with speculative theology and philosophy, and the second, with practical ordinances.110 During the late Qajar period, a number of influential philosophers continued, first and foremost, with the tradition of Mollâ Sadrâ and Sabzavâri, and also with the earlier tradition of Avicenna. 108 Its full title is Hedâyat al-tâlebin fi ma’refat al-anbiyâ’ al-ma’sumin va-ʼla’amma al-tâherin. For bibliographic information on this and other works by Sabzavâri, see Mortazâ Zokâ’i Sâvaji, “Ketâbshenâsi-ye Hâjj Mollâ Hâdi Sabzavâri,” Keyhân‑e Farhangi 10/1 (1993), pp. 22–23. 109 The complete title of this work is Asrâr al-hekme fiʼl-moftatah vaʼl-mokhtatam. In print form it first appeared in Tehran in 1885; later edition with notes and commentary by Mirzâ Abu-ʼl-Hasan Sha’râni (Tehran, 1960); and also ed. by H. M. Farzâd (Tehran, 1983). See also M. Mohaqqeq, “Asrār al-ḥekam,” in EIr, II, pp. 799–800. 110 See Fatemeh Fana, “Mullā Hādi Sabzawarī,” in Reza Pourjavady, ed., Philosophy in Qajar Iran (Leiden and Boston, 2019), pp. 179–230.

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They included, among others, Âqâ Ali Modarres (more on him below), Âqâ Mohammad-Rezâ Qomshe’i (1819–89), and Mirzâ Hâshem Eshkevari (1814–1914), in the first group, and Mirzâ AbuʼlHasan Jelve (1823–97) and Mirzâ Tâher Tonekâboni (1863–1941), in the latter.111 These authors were in most part based in Tehran and, as before, the major portion of their written work was done in Ara­bic and only occasionally they also wrote in Persian, or at times even a mixture of the two—a style which seems to have been occasionally adopted in the transcription of philosophical topics during the late Qajar period.112 Among them Âqâ Ali Modarres is particularly significant in terms of his innovative commentaries on Mollâ Sadrâ and also in view of his wider circle of students who later carried over the scholastic tradition of Persian philosophy to the 20th century. Âqâ Ali Modarres Tehrâni’s Badâye’ al-hekam Among the Persian writings of Âqâ Ali Modarres Tehrani (or Zonuzi), Badâye’ al-hekam (Philosophical Novelties) has a special place.113 It was written in 1889 during the last year of his life and published posthumously in 1896. On the whole, the book was initially composed in response to a number of questions that were presented to Âqâ Ali by Mohammad-Hoseyn Mirzâ Badi’-al-Molk (also known as Emâd-al-Dowle II) (d. sometime after 1896), a Qajar philosopher-prince with occasional duties as provincial governor, whose name in fact reflects on the title of Âqâ Ali’s book. Among 111 Manuchehr Sâduqi Sohâ, Târikh‑e hokamâ’ va orafâ-ye mota’akhkher, (2nd ed., Tehran, 2002). 112 A good case in point is a philosophical miscellany in Ara­bic and Persian that was written around 1914 by Hâjj Mirzâ Mohammad Tehrâni, a sugar merchant and learned bookseller. For a general introduction of this manuscript and its Persian sections, see Ali Qeysari (Gheissari), ed., “Favâkeh albasâtin: athâr‑e Hâjj Mirzâ Mohammad Tehrâni,” in Rasul Ja’fariyân, ed., Jashn-nâme-ye Ostâd Sayyed Ahmad Hoseyni Eshkevari (Tehran, 2013), pp. 723–817. 113 For Tehrâni’s life and works, see Mohsen Kadivar, “Āqā ʿAlī Mudarris Ṭihrānī,” in Pourjavdi, Philosophy in Qajar Iran, pp. 231–58..

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his contemporaries, Badi’-al-Molk was particularly noted for his familiarity with modern western philosophies, for he belonged to an early generation of Iranian thinkers in the Qajar era who were in contact with the ideas of some modern western philosophers, albeit indirectly and in passing.114 Badi’-al-Molk Mirzâ’s questions were initially seven and, although varied in substance, mostly corresponded to different aspects of Mollâ Sadrâ’s philosophy, except perhaps the last one which falls outside that tradition. In turn, Âqâ Ali’s responses offered a comprehensive explanation of Mollâ Sadrâ’s ideas on transcendental philosophy to the extent that on the whole Badâye’ alhekam can be regarded as a major commentary on Mollâ Sadrâ that was written in Persian in that period by a philosopher within the scholastic tradition. Badi’-al-Molk’s initial questions, to which he later added a few more, included, respectively: 1. The question concerning the essence of God. 2. The question concerning the multiplicity amongst beings and its complex correlation with temporality on the one hand, and with the eternity of God on the other. 3. As God is beyond possibilities, then how would it be possible to conceptualize God? 4. Is God’s knowledge of the possibilities limited or comprehensive? Would it then include knowledge of the particulars too? 5. Could knowledge of the Divine lead to acts, or not? 6. What is the supreme cause of [all] possibilities? 7. How can one debate with materialists on the objectivity of Divine attributes?115 As noted above, philosophically the intellectual milieu to which Âqâ Ali Modarres and his wider circle of associates and students 114 Karim Mojtahedi, “Âqâ ‘Ali Hakim Modarres Zonuzi va Badi’-al-Molk Mirzâ,” Keyhân Farhangi 8/76 (1991), reprinted in Karim Mojtahedi, Âshnâ’i-ye Irâniyân bâ falsafe-hâ-ye jadid‑e gharb (Tehran, 2000), pp. 253– 64. See further, Rezâ Musavi-Pâk, “Badi’-al-Molk Mirzâ Emâd-al-Dowle,” in Dânesh-nâme-ye bozorg‑e Eslâmi, Vol. XI, entry p. 4662. 115 Âqâ ‘Ali Modarres Zonuzi, Badâye’ al-hekam, ed. with introd. by Ahmad Vâ’ezi (Tehran, 1997).

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belonged was clearly influenced by the tradition of Mollâ Sadrâ and Sabzavâri, that often had strong tendencies towards speculative mysticism and gnosis (erfân), as well as an occasional appreciation for the peripatetic tradition of Avicenna. Among other influential figures, significant contributions were further made to philosophical instruction and discourse by, for example, Mirzâ Hasan Âshtiyâni (1833–1902) and Mirzâ Hasan Kermânshâhi (1835–1918), around the turn of the century. However, their philosophical similarities or differences notwithstanding, these authors belonged to a scholastic tradition which, on practical and juristic questions, was by and large identified with the analytic methodology—i. e., the osuli approach in Shi’i law. This approach was in turn transferred to a new generation of pupils some of whom, such as Mohammad Fâtemi Qomi (1873–1945), Sayyed Nasr-Allâh Taqavi (Sâdât Akhavi) (1871–1947), Sheykh Mohammad Abdo Borujerdi (1883–1967), and Mohammad-Kâzem Assâr (c. 1884–1975), among others, were instrumental in drafting Iran’s civil code (in the 1920 s and 1930 s) and contributing to legal reforms during the early Pahlavi period.116

Reform Literature From around the mid-19 th century onwards an increasing number of treatises were produced which advocated reform. They often had a threefold concern—namely, institutional weakness of the government, domestic reactionary forces, and foreign interests and intrigues in the country. Accordingly, a substantial volume of domestic ills, such as illiteracy, ill health, and poverty, were mostly caused by that unholy triad, either individually or collectively. Perhaps it can be noted that the founding of a modern poly-technical college (Dâr al-Fonun) offered further opportunity for the 116 For drafting Iran’s civil code and its sources, see Ali Gheissari, “Constitutional Rights and the Development of Civil Law in Iran, 1907–1941,” in H. E. Chehabi and Vanessa Martin, eds., Iran’s Constitutional Revolution: Politics, Cultural Transformations, and Transnational Connections (London, 2010), pp. 60–79, notes pp. 419–27.

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articulation and stylistic development of modern reform tracts. From the time of the opening of the Dâr al-Fonun in 1851 till Iran’s constitutional revolution of 1906 a significant volume of pro-reform literature was produced in Iran and the outside.117 Also it should be noted that, thanks to the introduction of print, an effective means of communication regarding this body of work, we find journalism and a broad range of periodicals published both domestically and abroad, a topic that is treated elsewhere in the present volume. Modern Persian political writings were influenced by their Ara­bic and Turkish counterparts of the same period which, in turn, had been influenced by European (such as French, Italian, and British) political literature in style and substance. Modern Persian political writings, similar to their Middle Eastern counterparts, were also drawn to the question concerning the role of Islam, other ideological matters of consensus or contention (such as traditionalism versus modernity, or nationalism versus ethnicity) notwithstanding. Mirzâ Yusof Khân Tabrizi’s Yak kaleme The constitutional movement in Iran was primarily articulated on a number of interrelated themes and concepts such as quest for justice, codifying the laws, and uniformity in legal process. These ideas were expressed in a broad range of reform tracts and essays that were published at an unprecedented speed and volume in various periodicals and publications. One such reform tract, Yak kaleme (One Word), by Mirzâ Yusof Khân Tabrizi (Mostashâral-Dowle), was initially completed in an early date of 1871 and was later published in various editions (in 1891, etc.). In the 1860 s and 1870 s, Mostashâr-al-Dowle had held various diplomatic posts which took him to Russia and Europe. In his tract, he compares and contrasts the backward situation in Iran with European progress, and states that the implementation of only “one word,” “law,” caused European progress and its absence hampered Iran in the way of progress. He then goes on to explain that this is a kind of 117 For Dâr-al-Fonun, see John Gurney and Negin Nabavi, “Dār al-Fonun,” in EIr, VI, pp. 662–68.

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law, which regulates the relation between the state and the people, is produced by consensus and representation, is clearly written and distributed across land, and is uniformly applied to all members of the society. In the words of the opening sections of Yak kaleme: ‫ س ّر‬،‫عزم اینرا کردم با یکی از دوستان که از تواریخ و احادیث اسالم اطالع کامل داشت مالقات کرده‬ ‫این معنی را بفهمم که چرا سایر ملل به چنان ترقییات عظیمه رسیده اند و ما در چنین حالت کسالت‬ ‫ «که بنیان و اصول نظم فرنگستان یک کلمه است و هر‬:‫و بی نظمی باقی مانده ایم… جوابم چنین داد‬ …»‫گونه ترقیات و خوبی ها در آنجا دیده میشود نتیجه همان یک کلمه است‬ ‫ یک کلمه که جمیع انتظامات فرنگستان در آن مندرج است کتاب قانون‬،‫ آن دوست چنین گفت‬ ‫است که جمیع شرایط و انتظامات معمول بها که به امور دنیویه تعلق دارد در آن مح ّرر و مسطور است‬ ‫و دولت و امت معا کفیل بقای آنست چنانکه هیچ فردی از سکنه فرانسه یا انگلیس یا نمسه یا پروس‬ ‫مطلق التصرف نیست یعنی در هیچ کاری که متعلق به امور محاکمه و مرافعه و سیاست و امثال آن‬ ‫ شاه و گدا و رعیت و لشگری در بند آن مقید هستند و‬.‫باشد به هوای نفس خود عمل نمی تواند کرد‬ ‫احدی قدرت مخالفت به کتاب قانون ندارد و باید بدانید که قانون را به لسان فرانسه لووا می گویند و‬ ‫مشتمل بر چند کتابست که هر یک از آنها را «کود» می نامند و آن کود ها در نزد اهالی فرانسه بمنزله‬ 118…‫ اما در میان این دو فرق زیاد هست‬،‫کتاب شریعت است در نزد مسلمانان‬

I decided to meet with one of my friends who was fully informed about Islamic historiography and Traditions, in order to unravel this conundrum: Why have other countries achieved such progress, while we have remained in such a state of lethargy and disorder? … His response was that the foundation and the origins of the European system of administration are one word and every sort of progress and benefit one sees here result from this single word…   My friend said: “The one word that encapsulates all administration in Europe is the book of law, in which all conditions and routine administrative procedures that relate to worldly matters are recorded. The government and the people together undertake to maintain the continued existence of the law, in such a way that no individual living whether in France, England, Germany, or Austria holds absolute power. In other words, in any case that relates to criminal and civil 118 Mirzâ Yusof Khân Tabrizi (Mostashâr-al-Dowle), Yak kaleme, ed. and tr. A. A. Seyed-Gohrab and S. McGlinn as One Word—Yak Kaleme: 19 th Century Persian Treatise Introducing Western Codified Law (Leiden, 2010), pp. 8, 10, 12. For Mostashâr-al-Dowle, see further Mehrdad Kia, “Constitutionalism, Economic Modernization and Islam in the Writings of Mirza Yusef Khan Mostashar od-Dowleh,” Middle Eastern Studies 30/4 (1994), pp. 751–77.

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PERSIAN PROSE law or politics and such like matters, he cannot follow his own personal inclination. The king and the beggar, subjects and soldiers are bound to follow it and no one has the power to oppose the book of law. You should know that law in the French language is called loi and it comprises several volumes, each of which is called a code. For French people these codes are the same as Shari’a-books for Muslims but there are many differences between the two …”119

The idea of articulation and implementation of the law influenced the production of a significant volume of reform literature prior to Iran’s constitutional movement (1906–1911) and included authors with diverse ideological orientation from secular reformists to pro-constitutional olamâ. Most of the literature thus produced was in the form of tracts or treatises (sing. resâle) and was published as such or was in the form of essays (sing. maqâle) and appeared in periodicals. Mohammad-Hoseyn Nâ’ini’s Tanbih al-omme va tanzih al-melle A significant example of tracts written during Iran’s constitutional movement by the olamâ and in defense of constitutional government was Mohammad-Hoseyn Nâ’ini’s well-known treatise Tanbih al-omme va tanzih al-melle (Awakening the Community and Purifying the Nation), written in 1909.120 The text is divided into one introduction, five chapters, and a concluding section. The first chapter gives a general account of a government based on religious precepts and equates it with government based on reason. Chapters two, three and four provide a defense of constitutional government based on consultation, consensus and setting limits on the powers of the government, Chapter five defines the qualifications of those who would be eligible to be representatives at the consultative assembly or the parliament (the Majles). In this text, Nâ’ini asserts that the religious questions (omur‑e shar’i) have already 119 Mostashâr-al-Dowle, One Word, pp. 9, 12, 13. 120 For recent editions, see Mohammad-Hoseyn Nâ’ini, Tanbih al-omme va tanzih al-melle, ed. with introd. and additions by Sayyed Mahmud Tâleqâni (Tehran, 1955), and ed. Sayyed Javâd Vara’i (Tehran, 2003).

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been clarified in the Qur’an. For clarification of public, social, and non-religious questions (omur‑e orfi) the community must rely on experts in these areas. Accordingly, determining the relationship between the people and the ruler belongs to omur‑e orfi. Although as a Shi’i thinker, Nâ’ini considered the only just rule to be that of the Hidden Imam, in practice, during the period of Occultation before the reappearance of the Imam, it is not only possible but also legitimate to regulate the relationships between the people and the government in accordance with certain laws and instructions that are offered by experts. Although in a real sense the Constitution was designed to replace the Shari‛a, Nâ’ini nevertheless dismissed an Akhbâri criticism that Constitutional legislation in Islamic countries would be a heretical innovation (bed’a).121 Furthermore, the pro-constitutionalist olamâ, such as Nâ’ini, focused their attention to replace arbitrary rule with a “conditional” (mashrut) (hence mashrute for “constitutional”) form of government that would be compatible with Islamic recommendations in favor of justice, consultation, and consensus. Here too the prose forms of resâle and maqâle were widely used by authors with different ideological and political perspectives.122 In particular the constitutional period witnessed the proliferation of Persian prose writing and journalism with social and political content that were published both inside Iran and abroad. In view of their intended audience, these writings 121 For Nâ’ini, see Abdul-Hadi Hairi, Shiʿ ism and Constitutionalism in Iran: A Study of the Role Played by the Persian Residents of Iraq in Iranian Politics (Leiden, 1977); see further Fereshteh M. Nouraie, “The Constitutional Ideas of a Shiʿite Mujtahid: Muhammad Husayn Nâ’înî,” IrSt 8/4 (1975), pp. 234–47. 122 For samples of political tracts in this period both in defence of constitutionalism and in opposition to it see, for example, Mohammad-Esmâ’il Rezvâni, “Bist-o-do resâle-ye tablighâti az dowre-ye enqelâb‑e mashrutiyat,” Râhnemâ-ye ketâb 12/5–6 (1969), pp. 229–40 and 371–77; Gholâm-Hoseyn Sadiqi, “Dah resâle-ye tablighâti-ye digar az sadr‑e mashrutiyat,” Râhnemâye ketâb, 13/1–2 (1970), pp. 17–24; Fereydun Âdamiyat and Homâ Nâteq, Afkâr‑e ejtemâ’i va siyâsi va eqtesâdi dar âthâr‑e montasher-nashode-ye dowrân‑e Qâjâr, (Tehran, 1977); and Gholâm-Hoseyn Zargarinezhâd, ed., Rasâ’el‑e Mashrutiyat: 18 resâle va lâyehe dar-bâre-ye mashrutiyat, (Tehran, 1995).

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were mostly in Persian and were written in a style that was, by and large, accessible to the reading public.123 Also in this period a gradual impact of translations can be noted. These translations, ranging from literary works to political analyses, were often made either directly from a European language to Persian or through Ara­bic and Turkish translations and renditions. In this context particular reference can be made to the Persian translation by Abd-al-Hoseyn Mirzâ Qâjâr of the Syrian author Abd-al-Rahmân Kavâkebi’s Tabâye’ al-estebdâd (The Nature of Tyranny). This book which was originally published in Egypt (c. 1904 or 1905), was influential on Nâ’ini’s Tanbih al-omme.124

4. Concluding Notes Beyond the introduction and the growing use of print in the 19th century and the general ease that it has ever since provided in accessing and generating texts, more recent advances, such as the use of information technology, have also had significant impact on different aspects of the reception of traditional branches of learning. Perhaps it is safe to argue that these technological advances have opened new prospects that, together with considerable expansions in education and communication, will have far reaching implications. In the case of transmitted sciences (olum‑e naqli), for instance, the technical facility to access a diverse range of records, genealogies, and bibliographic information with ease and speed could perhaps release considerable amount of time on the part of the student who would have otherwise been expected to study the 123 For Persian press in the constitutional period see, for example, H. L. Rabino, Surat‑e jarâyed‑e Iran (Rasht, 1911); and E. G. Browne and M. A. Tarbiyat, The Press and Poetry of Modern Persia (Cambridge, 1914). 124 See Abd-al-Rahmân Kavâkebi, Tabâye’ al-estebdâd (new editions, Tehran, 1985, and Qom, 1999). For Kavâkebi’s influence on Nâ’ini, see Hairi, Shiʿ ism and Constitutionalism in Iran. It has also been pointed out that Kavâkebi, in turn, was influenced by European ideas, such as by the writings of the Italian author Vittorio Alfieri. See, for example, Sylvia G. Haim, “Alfieri and al-Kawākibi,” Oriente Moderno 34/7 (1954), pp. 321–34.

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material over a long period. Similarly, further use of information technology will have a beneficial impact on the scope and substance of analytic discourse (olum‑e aqli) by bringing about new questions and introducing innovative modes of analysis. In the 20th century one can also observe a gradual process of shifting the center of gravity in philosophical discourse and textual production from the scholastic tradition of Persian philosophy to new, and largely heterogeneous, directions such as historical analysis, social theory, and translation. Also a significant amount of work has been devoted by modern scholars to record and register and to produce new critical editions of classical material. In this regard earlier works by a number of individual orientalists, by the virtue of their erudition and methodology, further served to inspire later scholars to maintain such standards in textual criticism and analysis. However, in spite of important achievements, some of which were briefly referred to in the preceding pages, a great deal of work still remains to be done. On the other hand the core curriculum of the Islamic seminaries inside Iran (most notably in Qom and Mashhad but also in Tehran, Isfahan and Shiraz) has remained firmly within the general instruction of Shi’i jurisprudence (feqh). In olum‑e naqli Mashhad has maintained its traditional adherence and has shown a continued, if tacit, resistance to the analytic (osuli) approach of its rival seminaries in Qom and Najaf. The founding of new modern institutions, beginning with Tehran University in 1930 s, also marked a new phase in philosophical activity that was particularly influential in introducing some of the preliminary tenets of western thought. Although students of philosophy in modern educational institutions have often been challenged by their instructional timeframe and their limited command of a philosophical language, during the past few decades a receptive community of discourse, with diverse interests in both scholastic tradition and in modern philosophy, has evolved that relies mostly on Persian as a philosophical medium. In this context a better grasp of the linguistic capital of philosophical Persian and a more comprehensive exposure to its classical heritage will therefore benefit further attempts at translations, innovative commentaries, and analyses. 207

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PERSIAN PROSE Lâḥiji, ʿAbd-al-Razzâq. Gowhar‑e Morâd. Ed. Ṣamad Movaḥḥed. Tehran, 1985. ­—. Sarmâye-ye imân dar oṣul‑e eʿteqâdât. Ed. Ṣâdeq Lârijâni Âmoli. Tehran, 1983. Landolt, Hermann, ed. Correspondance spirituelle échangée entre Nuroddin Esfarayeni (ob. 717/1317) et son disciple ‘Alaoddawleh Semnani (ob. 736/1336). Tehran, 1972. Laugier de Beaureceuil, Serge de. “‘Abdallāh Anṣāri.” In EIr, I, pp.  187–90. ­—. “L’Ilāhī-Nāmè de Ḫwājè ʿAbdallah Anṣārī.” Bulletin de l’Institut français d’archéologie orientale du Caire, 47 (1948), pp. 151–70. Lazard, Gilbert. La langue des plus anciens monuments de la prose persane, Paris, 1963. Losensky, Paul. “Jāmi: i. Life and Works.” In EIr, XIV, pp. 469–75. Madelung, W. “‘Abd-al-Razzâq Lāhiji.” In EIr, I, pp. 154–57. Margoliouth, D. S. “The Book of the Apple, Ascribed to Aristotle,” JRAS n. s. 24/2 (1892), pp. 187–252. Martini, Giovanni Maria. ʿAlāʾ al-Dawla al-Simnānī Between Spiritual Authority and Political Power: A Persian Lord and Intellectual in the Heart of the Ilkhanate, Leiden and Boston, 2017. Meybodi, Abu-al-Fazl Rashid-al-Din. Kashf al-asrâr va ʿoddat al-abrâr. Ed. ʿAli-Aṣghar Ḥekmat, 10 vols., Tehran, 1952–1960. Selections tr. by William C. Chittick as The Unveiling of the Mysteries and the Provision of the Pious. Amman, 2014. Modarres Zonuzi Ṭehrâni, Âqâ ʿAli. Badâyeʿ al-ḥekam. Ed. Aḥmad Vâʾeẓi. Tehran, 1997. ­—. Majmuʿe-ye moṣannafât‑e ḥakim‑e moʾasses Âqâ ʿAli Modarres‑e Ṭehrâni. Ed. Moḥsen Kadivar. 3 vols. Tehran, 1999. Moḥaqqeq, M. “Asrār al-Ḥekam.” In EIr, II, pp. 799–800. Mojtabā’ī, Fatḥ-Allāh. “Dasātīr.” In EIr, VIII, p. 84. Mojtahedi, Karim. “Âqâ ʿAli Ḥakim Modarres Zonuzi va Badiʿ-al-Molk Mirzâ.” Keyhân Farhangi 8/76 (1991). Repr. in Karim Mojtahedi, Âshnâʾ i-ye Irâniyân bâ falsafe-hâ-ye jadid‑e gharb, Tehran, 2000, pp. 253–64. Mollâ Ṣadrâ, Moḥammad b. Ebrâhim. Resâle-ye se aṣl. Ed. S. Ḥ. Naṣr. Tehran, 1962. Also ed. Moḥammad Khwâjavi. Tehran, 1997. Morewedge, Parviz. The Metaphysica of Avicenna (ibn Sinā): A Critical Translation-Commentary and Analysis of the Fundamental Arguments in Avicenna’s ‘Metaphysica’ in the ‘Dānish Nāma-i ‘alāʾ i’. New York, 1973.

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PERSIAN EXPOSITORY AND ANALYTICAL PROSE Morrison, George, ed. History of Persian Literature from the Beginnings of the Islamic Period to the Present Day. HdO Abt. 1 Bd. 4 Abschnitt 2 Lfg. 2. Leiden and Cologne, 1981. Mottahedeh, Roy. “The Shu’ūbīyah Controversy and the Social History of Early Islamic Iran.” IJMES 7/2 (1976), pp. 161–82. Muehlethaler, Lukas. “Revising Avicenna’s Ontology of the Soul: Ibn Kammūna on the Soul’s Eternity a Parte Ante.” The Muslim World, 102 (July/October 2012), pp. 597–616. Musavi-Pâk, Reżâ. “Badiʿ-al-Molk Mirzâ ʿEmâd-al-Dowle,” in Dâneshnâme-ye bozorg‑e Eslâmi, XI, entry p. 4662. Nâ’ini, Moḥammad-Ḥoseyn. Tanbih al-omme va tanzih al-melle. Ed. Sayyed Maḥmud Ṭâleqâni. Tehran, 1955. Ed. Sayyed Javâd Vara‘i. Tehran, 2003. Nâṣer‑e Khosrow Marvazi Qobâdiyâni, Goshâyesh va rahâyesh. Facs. ed. with introd. by Sa‘id Nafisi. Tehran, 1984. Tr. Faquir M. Hunzai with introd. by Parviz Morewedge as Knowledge and Liberation in A Muslim World: A Treatise in Philosophical Theology. London, 1998. Nasr, S. H. Three Muslim Sages: Avicenna, Suhrawardi, Ibn ‘Arabi. 3rd printing. Delmar, N. Y., 1997. Netton, I. R. Muslim Neoplatonists: An Introduction to the Thought of the Brethren of Purity. Edinburgh, 1991. Newman, Andrew J. “The Myth of the Clerical Migration of Safawid Iran: Arab Shiite Opposition to ʿAli al-Karaki and Safawid Shiism.” Die Welt des Islams n. s. 33/1 (1993), pp. 66–112. Nouraie, Fereshteh M. “The Constitutional Ideas of a Shiʿite Mujtahid: Muhammad Husayn Nâ’înî,” IrSt 8/4 (1975), pp. 234–47. Nuri, Sheykh Fażl-Allâh. Lavâyeḥ‑e Âqâ Sheykh Fażl-Allâh Nuri. Ed. Homâ Reżvânī. Repr. Tehran, 1983. Ostâdi, Reżâ. “Taʾlifât‑e Mollâ Ṣadrâ.” Â’ine-ye Pazhuhesh 57 (1999), pp. 80–85. Perry, John R. “Language Reform in Turkey and Iran.” IJMES 17/3 (1985), pp. 295–311. ­—. “The Origin and Development of Literary Persian.” In J. T. P. de Bruijn, ed. General Introduction to Persian Literature (HPL Vol. I), London, 2009, pp. 43–70. Pourjavady, Reza, ed. Philosophy in Qajar Iran. Leiden and Boston, 2019. Purdâvud, Ebrâhim. Farhang‑e Irân‑e bâstân. Tehran, 1947. Purjavâdi, Naṣr-Allâh. “Zabân‑e hâl dar âthâr‑e ʿAlaʾ-Dowle Semnâni.” Nashr‑e Dânesh 20/4 (2003), pp. 25–35.

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PERSIAN PROSE Qazvini, Mirzâ Reżâ Khân Afshâr Begeshlu. Alefbâ-ye behruzi. Istanbul, 1882. ­—. Parvaz‑e Negâresh‑e Pârsi, Istanbul, 1883. Rabino, H. L. Ṣurat‑e jarâyed‑e Iran. Rasht, 1911. Raiszâde, M. “Jâmeʿ‑e ʿAbbâsi.” In Dâneshnâme-ye jahân‑e Eslâm, Vol. IX, Tehran, 2006, p. 351. Rahnema, Ali. Superstition as Ideology in Iranian Politics: From Majlesi to Ahmadinejad. Cambridge, 2011. Râstgufard, Moḥammad-Farid. “Sabk-shenâsi-ye neveshte-hâ-ye Bâbâ Afżal Kâshâni az didgâh‑e zabâni.” Sabk-shenâsi-ye naẓm va nathr‑e Fârsi (Bahâr‑e adab) 4/3 (2011), pp. 267–82. Ravan Farhadi, A. G. Abdullah Ansari of Herat (1006–1089 CE): An Early Sufi Master. Oxford and New York, 1996. Râzi Tehrâni, Qavâm-al-Din Moḥammad. Majmu’e-ye Moṣannafât. Ed. ʿAli Owjabi. Tehran, 2010. Rezvâni, Moḥammad-Esmâ’il. “Bist-o-do resâle-ye tablighâti az dowre-ye enqelâb‑e mashruṭiyat.” Râhnemâ-ye ketâb 12/5–6 (1969), pp. 229–40 and 371–77. Richard, Yann. Les jaillissements de lumière. See Jâmi, ʿAbd-al-Raḥmân. Lawâyeḥ. Richter-Bernburg, Lutz. “Linguistic Shu’ūbīya and Early Neo-Persian Prose.” JAOS 94/1 (1974), pp. 55–64. Rizvi, Sajjad H. Mulla Sadra and Metaphysics: Modulation of Being. London, 2013. Rypka, Jan. “History of Persian Literature up to the Beginning of the 20 th Century.” In HIL, pp. 69–351. Sabzavâri, Ḥâjj Mollâ Ḥâdi. Asrâr al-ḥekme fi’l-moftataḥ va’l-mokhtatam. Tehran, 1885. Ed. Mirzâ Abu’l-Ḥasan Shaʿrâni. Tehran, 1960. Ed. H. M. Farzâd, Tehran, 1983. Ṣadiqi, Gholâm-Ḥoseyn, “Dah resâle-ye tablighâti-ye digar az ṣadr‑e mashruṭiyat,” Râhnamây‑e Ketâb 13/1–2 (1970), pp. 17–24. Ṣaduqi Sohâ, Manuchehr. Târikh‑e ḥokamâ’ va ʿorafâ-ye motaʾakhkher. 2nd ed. Tehran, 2002. Samʿâni, Shehâb-al-Din Aḥmad b. Manṣur. Rowḥ-al-arvâḥ fi sharḥ‑e asmâ al-malek al-fattâḥ. Ed. Najib Mâyel-Heravi. Tehran, 1989. Samimikia, M. Z. and F. Azarfar (Hendizadeh). Law Dictionary: Persian-English. 2nd ed. Tehran, 1998. Sarvar Mowlâ’i, Moḥammad. “Tabaqât al-ṣufiye-ye Anṣâri,” in Dâneshnâme-ye jahân‑e eslâm, I, Tehran, 1990, p. 6428 (online ed., 2010, at http://lib.eshia.ir/23019/1/6428).

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PERSIAN EXPOSITORY AND ANALYTICAL PROSE Semnâni, Aḥmad b. Moḥammad (ʿAlâ-al-Dowle). See ʿAlâ-al-Dowle Semnâni, Aḥmad b. Moḥammad. Seyfi, ʿAli-Aṣghar. “Taʾthir‑e Rowḥ al-arvâḥ dar Tafsir‑e kashf al-asrâr.” In Yad-Allâh Jalâli Pendari, ed., Yâd-nāme-ye Abu’l-Fazl Rashid-alDin Meybodi, Vol. I, Yazd, 1999, pp. 356–94. Shariʿat, Moḥammad-Javâd, ed. Sokhanân‑e pir‑e Herât. Tehran, 1977. Sohravardi, Shehab-al-Din Yaḥya. Majmuʿe-ye moṣannafât‑e Sheykh‑e Eshrâq III: Majmuʿe-ye âthâr‑e Fârsi-ye Sheykh‑e Eshrâq. Ed. Sayyed Ḥoseyn Naṣr. Tehran, 1977. ­—. Partow-nâme. Ed. and tr. Hossein Ziai as The Book of Radiance: A Parallel English-Persian Text. Costa Mesa, Calif., 1998. ­—. The Philosophical Allegories and Mystical Treatises: A Parallel Persian-­ English Text. Ed. and tr. Wheeler M. Thackston, Jr., Costa Mesa, Calif., 1999. Tabrizi, Mirzâ Yusof Khân Tabrizi (Mostashâr-al-Dowleh). Yak Kaleme. Ed. and tr. A. A. Seyed-Gohrab and S. McGlinn as One Word—Yak kaleme: 19 th Century Persian Treatise Introducing Western Codified Law. Leiden, 2010. Tabrizi, Moḥamad-Ḥoseyn b. Khalaf. Borhân‑e qâṭeʿ. Ed. Mohammad Moʿin. 3rd ed. Tehran, 1978. Ṭâheri, Ḥamid. “Bar-resi va tahlil‑e zabân‑e Dânesh-nâme-ye ʿAlâʾ i.” In Majmuʿe-ye maqâlât‑e hamâyesh‑e beyn-al-melali-ye Ebn‑e Sinâ (Proceedings of the Avicenna International Conference), Hamadân, 2004. Online at http://www.buali.ir/buali_content/media /article/18. PDF. Taqizâde, Sayyed Ḥasan. “Lozum‑e ḥefẓ‑e Fârsi-ye faṣiḥ.” Yâdegâr 4/6 (1948), pp. 1–40. Ṭehrâni, Âqâ ʿAli Modarres. See Modarres‑e Ṭehrâni, Âqâ ‘Ali. Ṭehrâni, Ḥâjj Mirzâ Moḥammad. “Favâkeh al-basâtin: âthâr‑e Ḥâjj Mirzâ Moḥammad Ṭehrâni.” Ed. ʿAli Qeyṣari. In Rasul Ja’fariyân, ed., Jashn-nâme-ye Ostâd Sayyed Aḥmad Ḥoseyni Eshkevari, Tehran, 2013, pp. 723–817. Thackston, W. M., ed. Opera Minora. See Alâ’-al-Dowle Semnâni, Opera Minora. Utas, Bo. “‘Genres’ in Persian Literature, 900–1900,” in Gunilla Lindberg-Wada, ed. Literary History: Towards a Global Perspective, Vol. II: Literary Genres: An Intercultural Approach, Berlin, 2006, pp. 199–241. ­—. “The Munājāt or Ilāhī-nâmah of ʿAbdullāh Anṣārī,” in Manuscripts of the Middle East 3 (1988), pp. 83–87. Van Ess, J. “‘Alā’ al-Dawla Simnānī.” In EIr, I, pp. 774–77.

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PERSIAN PROSE Vasalou, Sophia. Moral Agents and Their Deserts: The Character of Mutazilite Ethics. Princeton, 2008. Walbridge, John. The Leaven of the Ancients: Suhrawardi and the Heritage of the Greeks. New York, 2002. Zargarinezhâd, Gholâm-Ḥoseyn, ed. Rasâ’el‑e mashruṭiyat: 18 resâle va lâyeḥe dar-bâre-ye mashruṭiyat. Tehran, 1995. Zaryâb, ‘Abbâs. “Bâbâ Afżal.” In Dânesh-nâme-ye jahân‑e Eslâm VI, Tehran, 1990, p. 13. Ziai, Hossein. Knowledge and Illumination: A Study of Suhrawardi’s Hikmat al-Ishraq. Atlanta, GA, 1990. Zonuzi [Ṭehrâni], Âqâ ‘Ali Modarres. See Modarres Zonuzi Ṭehrâni, Âqâ ʿAli.

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CHAPTER 4 SCIENCE IN PERSIAN Ziva Vesel in collaboration with Sonja Brentjes

1. Introduction In the Islamic world, the genre of “expository discourse” pertains to the field of learned literature which is itself, according to the medieval classifications, divided into “traditional sciences” (olum‑e naqli) and “intellectual/rational sciences” (olum‑e aqli). The traditional sciences, as elaborated during the Islamic period, are mainly represented by linguistic and literary Arabic sciences, religious sciences, and history. The intellectual sciences, which were inherited from Sasanian, Greek, Indian, and Syriac traditions of the pre-Islamic period, transmitted, among other things, Aristotelian practical philosophy (ethics, economy, politics) and theoretical philosophy (logic, mathematics, physics, metaphysics). Various classifications of sciences were elaborated during the early period (in the Iranian world especially by Fârâbi and Avicenna (Ebn-Sinâ)1 in Arabic) in order to co-ordinate pre-Islamic and Islamic materials. While the term “science” (elm) could be used indistinguishably for all the branches of knowledge,2 science in a strict sense can be defined as pertaining to mathematical and physical sciences of the Aristotelian framework and their subdivisions.3 In this field, the Iranian world produced texts in Arabic as well as in Persian, the 1 2 3

Translation by G. C. Anawati, “Les divisions des sciences intellectuelles d’Avicenne,” Cahiers de MIDEO 13 (1977), pp. 323–35. Which was not the case of the term “art/craft” (senâ’e). For the extensive survey of these materials in Arabic see for instance EbnSinâ, al-Shefâ’; cf. multi-part article “Avicenna,” EIr., III, pp. 66–110.

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latter from the very beginning of the New Persian written language in the 10 th century.4 The earliest Persian scientific texts, preserved in later copies, date from the last quarter of the 10 th century. Their very variety indicates that they might have been more numerous at the origin: an anonymous treatise on geography dating from 982, Hodud al-âlam (Limits of the World);5 a guide on medical art, Hedâyat al-mota’allemîn fi’l tebb (Guidance for Students in Medicine) by Akhaveyni of Bukhara (d. ca. 983);6 a pharmacological treatise al-Abniye an haqâyeq al-adviye (Fundamentals on the True Nature of Pharmacology) by Abu-Mansur of Herat (ca. 975), which is transmitted in the oldest Persian manuscript copy extant, dated 1056;7 a medical poem Dânesh-nâme-ye Meysari (The Book of Science by Meysari; 980);8 an anonymous Persian translation dating from the Ghaznavid era of an Arabic manual on astrology, al-Madkhal elâ elm ahkâm al-nojum (Introduction to the Art of Astrology), composed in 976 by Abu-Nasr Hasan Qomi.9 Interestingly, these texts, which are among the very first texts of Persian written literature, correspond to adaptations, rather than straight translations, of scientific knowledge in Arabic. The vulgarization of the latter in Persian was probably in tune with nationalistic tendencies prevalent in eastern Iran; the author of the medical poem, the physician Meysari, says: “… our country is Iran and the majority of its habitants speak only Persian … I’ll write in dari [i. e. literary Persian] so that everybody

4

For a detailed linguistic and codicological study of Persian scientific texts of the pre-Mongol period, see G. Lazard, La langue des plus anciens monuments de la prose persane (Paris, 1963). 5 See infra Geography. 6 H. H. Biesterfeldt, “Aḵawaynī Boḵārī,” in EIr, I, pp. 706–7. 7 L. Richter-Bernburg, “Abu Mansur Heravī,” in EIr I, pp. 336–37. 8 G. Lazard, “Le livre de science de Meisari” in Les premiers poètes persans (2 vols., Paris and Tehran, 1964), I, pp. 36–40 and 163–80 (French tr.), II, pp. 178–94 (extracts of the text). For a complete edition of the poem, see Hakim Meysari, Dânesh-nâme dar elm‑e pezeshki, ed. Barât Zanjâni (Tehran, 1987). 9 Abu-Nasr Hasan b. Alî Qomi, Tarjome al-Madkhal elâ elm‑e ahkâm al-nojum, ed. J. Akhavân Zanjânî, Tehran, 1996.

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may know my book …”10 But a second reason for using Persian was the gradual decline in literacy in Arabic.11 This is clearly indicated by some references in the texts themselves: the Dânesh-nâme-ye Alâ’i (The Book of Science for Alâʾal-Dowle) of Avicenna was written in Persian for the Kakuid Doshmanzyâr between 1023 and 1037 as he did not know Arabic and wished to read philosophy in Persian, which is probably also the case for the short medical treatise Rag-shenâsi (Knowledge of the Pulse), since Avicenna was “ordered” (farmud) to write it in Persian. Another testimony is the note in the colophon of the Arabic MS copy of Dioscorides’ Ketâb al-hashâyesh (Materia Medica, 1 st c. ce) of Nâteli’s revision made in Samarqand. Although chronologically of a later date, this example is nevertheless interesting: Mohammad Râmi, the author of the (lost) Persian translation of Dioscorides, dated 510/1116, offers the following explanatory note “… Arabic has fallen into disuse and Persian has become the most desirable language …”12 The earliest texts were written in plain and fluent Persian but later they became increasingly inundated with Arabic in their vocabulary. Avicenna’s attempt in Dânesh-nâme to express philosophical and scientific concepts in Persian proved ultimately unsuccessful, if we are to believe Shahmardân b. Abi’l-Kheyr Râzi, another author writing for the Kakuids. He makes two critical points in his Rowzat al-monajjemin (The Garden of Astrologers) and in his Nozhat-nâme-ye Alâ’i (The Book of Delights for Alâ’-al-Dowle): first, that Doshmanzyâr, having commissioned Avicenna to write in Persian so that the work would be intelligible to him, was unable to follow the contents; and second, that in any case the Arabic terminology was preferable to the Persian.13 In general, the Per10 Lazard, “Le livre de science …,” I, p. 166, II, p. 182. 11 Cf. Lutz Richter-Bernburg, “Linguistic Shuʿūbīya and Early Neo-Persian Prose,” JRAS 94 (1974), pp. 55–64. 12 Cf. M. M. Sadek, The Arabic Materia Medica of Dioscorides (St. Jean-­ Chrysostome, Quebec, 1983), p. 29. 13 Shahmardân b. Abi’l-Kheyr Râzi, Rowzat al-monajjemin, ed. J. Akhavân Zanjâni (Tehran, 2003), pp. 2–3, and idem, Nozhat-nâme-ye Alâ’i, ed. F. Jahânpur (Tehran, 1983), p. 22.

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sian versions of Arabic scientific texts were usually summarized adaptations of the author’s own Arabic works and used the same terminology in both versions. Persian scientific treatises share common formal features with other categories of expository discourse (of longer or shorter scope: ketâb or resâle): The introduction usually starts with religious formuli, gives the name of the author as well as the dedicatee, the reason for writing, the title of the work, and less frequently a table of contents. The end of the treatise is less extensive, merely inserting “finished in the year …,” and very occasionally appending an epilogue. Of course, this model varies constantly. These treatises can contain several elements of literary value: short—or sometimes longer—poems on the subject, lengthy laudatory adjectives to describe the dedicatee, anecdotes (historical or legendary), etc. The formal distribution of their contents can reflect their use: questions and answers (examinations, discussions, and teaching technique);14 thirty sections (for the days of a month?); twelve questions and answers in each of thirty sections, i. e. three hundred and sixty questions (for the days of the year?), etc.; several versions of one text indicate various dedicatees. These aspects should undoubtedly be interpreted in relationship with the main types of scholarly development: The patronage of the courts, the teaching circles, the family lineages of professions, and the existence of “amateurs de sciences”—the private individuals interested in science. What is more specific to scientific treatises is the frequent observation on the usefulness and the excellence of knowledge in general. In the case of specific topics, its previous authorities and, in the introduction, the description of its theoretical scientific framework (for instance, description of the world and the genesis of various aspects of life) can be mentioned. There is nevertheless no general definition of science that would be common to all disciplines.

14 For the most emblematic example of the genre in Arabic see Biruni and Ebn-Sinâ, al-As’ele va’l-ajvebe, ed. and introd. by S. H. Nasr and M. Mohaghegh as al-Asʾ ilah wa’l-Ajwibah / Questions and Answers (Tehran 2005). In general, see H. Daiber, “Masāʾil wa-Adjwiba” in EI2, VI, pp. 636 a–639 b.

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The following pages focus solely on some important Persian scientific texts according to different disciplines and thematics (roughly following the above-mentioned medieval division of mathematics and physics),15 with an attempt to list various genres generated by each field, underlying the eventual originality of Persian texts in their relationship to Arabic models, and paying particular attention to their literary and artistic aspects.

2. Encyclopedias and Popular Cosmographies The encyclopedia Mafâtih al-olum (Keys to the Sciences), written in Arabic between 976–91 by Abu-Abd-Allâh Khwârazmi alkâteb16 for the Samanid ruler Nuh II at the request of his vizier, Abu’l-Hasan Otbi, is often cited as a typical example of the division between the “traditional” (naqli) and “intellectual” (aqli) sciences and its explanation. Regarding encyclopedias in Persian, their richness in subdivisions of mathematics and physics, basically following the division of sciences by Avicenna, is particularly visible in Jâme’ al-olum of Fakhr-al-Din Râzi (d. 1210)17 and Nafâyes al-fonun of Shams-al-Din Âmoli (14 th c.),18 since their authors were familiar with madrasa curricula. 15

Except occasionally for one field, the present chapter will exclude any discussion of pre-Islamic texts, or Arabic texts by Iranian authors in a comprehensive manner, or publications after the 16 th century, or redactions or translations in Ottoman Turkey and India. Mechanics on the one hand, occult sciences, namely alchemy, on the other, deserve a separate study and are only occasionally referred to in this chapter. For a general survey of Arabic texts of Iranian authors, see R. Rashed, ed., History of Arabic Science (3 vols., London, 1996); for a survey of Persian scientific texts, see C. A. Storey, PL II/1, II/2, II/3; A. Monzavi, Fehrestvâre-ye ketâbhâ-ye fârsi / Catalogue of Persian Manuscripts in Several Libraries (Tehran, 2001). For technology, see the publications of D. R. Hill and Parviz Mohebbi in the bibliography below. 16 C. E. Bosworth, “A Pioneer Arabic Encyclopedia of the Sciences: alKhwârizmî’s Keys of the Sciences,” Isis 54, pp. 97–111. 17 Fakhr-al-Din Râzi, Jâme’ al-olum (Settini), ed. S. A. Âl‑e Dâvud (Tehran, 2004). 18 Shams-al-Din Âmoli, Nafâyes al-fonun fi arâyes al-oyun, ed. A. Sha’râni (3 vols., Tehran, 1957–59).

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Jâme’ al-olum (Compendium of Sciences), an encyclopedia of sixty sciences and therefore called Ketâb‑e settini (and bearing also the literary title Hadâyeq al-anvâr fi haqâyeq al-asrâr—The Garden of Lights in the Truth of Secrets), was written in 1179 by the Ash’arite Fakhr-al-Din Râzi for the ruler of Khwârazm, Alâ-al-Din Tekesh (r. 1200–1220), of the last dynasty of the Khwârazmshâhs. Râzi spent three years in Khwârazm before he was forced to leave at the instigation of local Mo’tazelites. It was then that he decided to write his encyclopedia in order to provide a repertory of both naqli and aqli sciences, treating their principles (osul) and their applications (foru’), which would allow “the king’s servants” to compose books [for the king] on sciences that would interest him.19 Jâme’ is important for the elaborate construction of its contents, something that was not attempted to such an extent in similar writings later. The majority of the sciences are treated from three angles: three simple principles; three complex principles; three examinations (in the form of questions).20 It possibly reflects the curriculum of the Madrase-ye Mojâhediyye in Marâghe, where in the 12 th century the young Râzi followed the courses of Majd-alDin Jili, courses that were also attended by Shehâb-al-Din Sohravardi.21 The first part of Jâme’ is devoted to “traditional” sciences. The second part, which is devoted to “intellectual” sciences, treats in order twenty-two matters: logic, natural philosophy/physics, oneirocriticism, physiognomy, medicine, anatomy, pharmacopeia, “proprieties” (elm‑e khavâss), alchemy, precious stones, talismans, agriculture, cleansing techniques (elm‑e qal’ al-âthâr), veterinary sciences (horses), falconry, geometry, topography (elm al-masâhe), traction of weights (elm‑e jarr al-ethqâl), weaponry, Indian reckoning, mental reckoning, algebra, arithmetic, magic squares, optics, 19 Râzi, Jâme’, pp. 69–70. 20 For the survey of the contents of Jâme’ al-olûm, see Z. Vesel, “Les encyclopédies persanes: culture scientifique en langue vernaculaire,” in C. de Callataÿ and B. van den Abeele, eds., Une lumière venue d’ailleurs : Héritages et ouvertures dans les encyclopédies d’Orient et d’Occident au Moyen Age (Turnhout, 2008), pp. 80–89. 21 Majmu’e-ye falsafi-ye Marâghe / A Philosophical Anthology from Maraghah, ed. N. Purjavâdi (Tehran, 2002), p. iv.

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music, astronomy, astrology, geomancy, exorcism, metaphysics, sects, morals, politics, domestic economy, future life, prayers, conduct of kings (âdâb al-moluk), and chess. The sub-divisions of physics and mathematics progressively increase or change with later encyclopedists: Nafâyes al-fonun (The Precious Arts) of Shams-al-Din Âmoli, who was a modarres at Soltâniyye, contains 160 “sciences” altogether, introducing planetary theory (hay’e) and administrative geography (masâlek va mamâlek) in the chapter on branches of mathematical sciences, and it has a long literary introduction with a heavily arabicized vocabulary. It was written in Shiraz in 1340, after the fall of the Ilkhanid empire, for the Injuid Abu-Eshâq. Mohammad Fâzel Samarqandi in his Javâher al-olum‑e Homâyuni (Gems of Sciences for Homâyun),22 written circa 1555 for the Mughal emperor Homâyun (r. 1530–56), attempts to treat 120 sciences, basing himself on both Râzi’s Jâme’ and Âmoli’s Nafâyes. Rostamdâri in his Riyâz alabrâr (Gardens of the Pious),23 a Shi’ite encyclopedia written in 1571 in Shiraz, includes ninety sciences, outdoing the sixty sciences of Râzi, but the table of contents follows an idiosyncratic plan of his own. He was an independent scholar who spent twenty years in travels in search of knowledge, and in his introduction he cites his sources, including those on hay’e. As well as the above-mentioned general encyclopedias, different types of encyclopedic writings in Arabic were produced in the Iranian world, often with their counterpart in Persian. Dâneshnâme-ye Alâʾi by Avicenna24 and Dorrat al-tâj (Pearls of the Crown)25 22 A. Rahman, Science and Technology in Medieval India: A Bibliography of Source Materials in Sanskrit, Arabic and Persian (New Delhi 1982), p. 607. 23 Storey, PL, II/3 F, p. 359 (no. 597); Ch. Rieu, Supplement to the Catalogue of the Persian Manuscripts in the British Museum (London, 1895), pp. 103–105 (no. 144). 24 Abu-Ali Ebn-Sinâ (Avicenna), Dânesh-nâme-ye Alâʾ î I: Resâle-ye manteq, ed. M. Moʾin and M. Meshkât (Tehran, 1974); II: Elâhiyyât, ed. M. Moʾin (Tehran, 1974); III: Tabi’iyyât, ed. M. Meshkât (Tehran, 1952, 2nd ed., Tehran, 1975). For the revised French translation, which contains also mathematics, cf. Avicenna, Le livre de science, tr. M. Achena and H. Massé (Paris, 1986). 25 Qotb-al-Din Shirâzi, Dorrat al-tâj le-ghorrat al-debbâj, ed. M. Meshkât (2 vols., Tehran, 1938–41).

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written between 1294 and 1306 by Qotb-al-Din Shirâzi are examples of Persian encyclopedias of philosophy that both contain important theoretical chapters on mathematical and physical sciences. Among the most popular encyclopedic writings are the cosmographies describing the universe in a descendant order, from the sky down to man. The Ajâyeb al-makhluqât va gharâyeb al-mowjudât (Wonders of Creation and Marvels of Existing Things) by Zakariyâ Qazvini (d. 1283) in Arabic is the most popular work of the genre26 and was translated into Persian. Both versions are usually accompanied by beautiful illustrations of planets, signs of the zodiac, and other constellations, plants, and animals. But the first encyclopedia bearing this title was written directly in Persian by Mohammad Tusi-Salmâni between 1167 and 1178 for the Saljuq ruler of Iraq, Abu-Tâleb Toghril b. Arslan b. Toghril.27 It is a real curiosity since one of its rare manuscript copies contains illustrations in an archaic style.28 Later authors tried their hand at new versions in the same genre, as for instance Soltân-Mohammad b. Darvish-Mohammad al-Mofti Balkhi (d. 1574) who wrote the Majma’ al-gharâyeb (Compendium of Marvels) and dedicated it to the prince-governor of Balkh, Pir Mohammad (r. 1556–61). In another copy, the text is dedicated to the Sheybanid ruler Abd-Allâh II b. Eskandar Khân (r. 1560–98)29. It was not uncommon for a single text to have successively different dedicatees. Balkhi informs us in his introduction that he attended the session (majles) at the court 26 For the genre in general, cf. B. Radtke, Weltgeschichte und Weltbeschreibung im mittelalterlichen Islam (Beirut and Stuttgart, 1992). 27 B. Radtke, “Die älteste islamische Kosmographie: Muḥammad-i Ṭūsī’s ʿAğā’ib ul-maḫlūqāt,” Der Islam 64 (1987), pp.  278–88; Mohammad b. Mahmud b. Ahmad Tusi-Salmâni, Ajâyeb al-makhluqât, ed. M. Sotude (Tehran 1966); for another edition, Mohammad b. Mahmud Hamadâni, Ajâyeb-nâme, ed. J. M. Sâdeqi (Tehran, 1996). For ajâyeb literature in Persian see the publications of Karin Rührdanz. 28 See for instance Z. Vesel, S. Tourkin, and Y. Porter, with the collaboration of F. Richard and F. Ghasemloo, Images of Islamic Science: Illustrated Manuscripts from the Iranian World (Tehran, 2009), especially pp. 179–80, ills. nos. 157 and 158; A. Caiozzo, “Une conception originales des cieux, planètes et zodiaque d’une cosmographie jalayeride,” Annales Islamologiques 37 (2003), pp. 59–78. 29 Cf. Storey, PL, II/1 D, pp. 135–37 (no. 199).

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where he narrated ajâyeb literature and was invited to write on the subject. He also provides very rich information on his native city of Balkh and records the dates of the Marâghe and Samarqand observatories, respectively 1258 and 1436. Among other types of encyclopedias in the Iranian world those dedicated to technology in Persian are particularly interesting and important,30 but they still await systematic study.

3. Mathematical Sciences (Quadrivium) The mathematical sciences consisted of the four foundational disciplines inherited from late antiquity through translations and most likely oral traditions on the classifications of the various scholarly disciplines held among various non-Muslim faith groups, among them Zoroastrians and Manichaeans. These four disciplines were number theory, geometry, astronomy, and theoretical music (theory of proportions).31 In addition to these four basic disciplines of the taught sciences (mathemata = mathematics), so-called branch disciplines were appropriated from ancient classification schemes. Among them we find optics, mechanics, burning mirrors, or conics subordinated to geometry or astrology as an appendix to astronomy. But as with the foundational disciplines, the number, distributions, and hierarchy of the branch sciences altered rapidly during the 9th and 10th centuries and new additions kept appearing at least until the 15th or 16th centuries. Examples are algebra, magic squares, surveying, Indian decimal arithmetic, timekeeping, the preparation of astronomical handbooks, or planetary theory. Geography and mapmaking were at times included in astronomical handbooks 30 I. Afshar, “La notion des ‘sciences appliquées’ dans les textes classiques persans,” in Z. Vesel, H. Beikbaghban, and B. Thierry Crussol des Epesse, eds., La science dans le monde iranien à l’époque islamique (Tehran, 1998), pp. 155–64. 31 Music is not discussed in this chapter; the following study lists the reference texts in Persian on the subject: M. Fallahzadeh, Persian Writing on Music: A Study of Persian Musical Literature from 1000 to 1500 AD (Uppsala, 2005).

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as tables of terrestrial latitudes, longitudes, and the prayer directions towards Mecca. World maps or semi-circular maps appeared occasionally in treatises on planetary theory. But more often, their authors belonged to other communities than that of the experts of the mathematical sciences. Almost all these disciplines and branches of the mathematical sciences found authors who wrote about them in Persian. The earliest mathematical texts in the sense explained above written in Persian were apparently devoted to calendrical topics.32 Jamâl-al-Din b. Mahfuz (first half of the 10th century) from Baghdad was an astrologer at the court of the Abbasid caliph al-Moqtader (r. 908–32). In addition to an astronomical handbook in Arabic, of which there is a manuscript in the Bibliothèque nationale in Paris, he wrote a Persian treatise on how to construct an astrolabe, preserved in one copy in Baku.33 Another, better known, Iranian astrologer who worked for the Buyid ruler Azod-al-Dowle (r. 949–83) called Gholâm-e Zohal (“The Servant of Saturn”; d. 998) wrote a Persian text about the astrological meaning of lunar positions in planetary houses through the Zodiac, preserved today in Tashkent.34 These themes remained prominent topics for writers in Persian until the 19th century. The compilation of calendars and ephemerids became one of the main duties of court astrologers of dynasties ruling in different localities stretching from Anatolia to the Indian Subcontinent and Central Asia. As these two examples indicate, Persian was a minor medium of expression in the mathematical sciences during the 10th century. Despite a steady, slow increase in the number of authors of Persian mathematical texts during the eleventh and 12th centuries, a major breakthrough for Persian as an important language for the mathematical sciences only occurred during the 13th and early 14th centuries. While the main socio-cultural context of Persian mathematical texts during those four centuries (11 th–14 th) were royal courts, 32 G. P. Matvievskaya and B. A. Rozenfel’d, Matematiki i astronomy musul’manskogo srednevekov’ya i ich trudy (VIII–XVII vv) (3 vols., Moscow, 1983), II, p. 124. 33 Matvievskaya and Rozenfel’d, Matematiki, II, p. 133. 34 Matvievskaya and Rozenfel’d, Matematiki, II, p. 160.

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during the 14th century at the latest, madrasas and mosques rose to the fore. Although courts did not disappear as centers of Persian writing and supporters of astrologers and religious scholars interested in different parts of the mathematical sciences, from the 15th century the proliferating mathematical literature in Persian was either produced by students and teachers at madrasas or if created in other urban contexts was mainly used in those educational contexts or shelved in private libraries and contributed to the growing book collections at shrines or mosques. The typological range of texts composed on mathematical topics was accordingly broad: short letters to friends, colleagues, or students; textbooks; synopses, summaries, or surveys; exercise books; didactic poems; elucidating or criticizing commentaries as independent works or as marginalia; notebooks; encyclopedias of different kinds. Most of these works served educational or informational purposes. A smaller number focused on debates and new or modified ideas and questions. This applies in particular to topics in planetary theory. The majority of all these types of texts were newly written in Persian. But some also were translations from Arabic. Such translations were primarily made from Nasir-al-Din Tusi’s (1201–74) edition of Euclid’s Elements and from a small number of surveys or manuals such as Bahâ’-al-Din al-Âmoli’s (1546–1622) Kholâsat alhesâb (The Essence of Arithmetics). The majority of mathematical works in Persian was written and used under various dynasties in Iran, Central Asia, India, and parts of the Ottoman Empire between about 1400 and 1900.

Geometry One of the very few ancient mathematical texts that were translated into Persian was Euclid’s Elements. Such translations were made more than once in Iran and India from the 13th to the 18th centuries.35 The first author known to have written a commentary on a 35

S. Brentjes, “On the Persian Transmission of Euclid’s Elements,” in Z. Vesel et al., eds., La science dans le monde iranien, pp. 73–94.

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part of the Elements in Persian is Hosâm-al-Din Sâlâr, who entered the service of the Mongol army after 1220. He was imprisoned and later executed in 1262 for his wrong prediction of the outcome of the battle of Baghdad between Hulegu Khân (r. 1258–1265) and the caliph al-Mosta’sem (r. 1242–1258). In his commentaries, he discussed proofs of the theorems of Book I. Most of the extant Persian texts on geometry and surveying present planar figures from the Elements such as triangles, quadrangles, and circular figures combining them with other figures not treated by Euclid such as oval, step-like, or rose-like forms. In some cases, they contain rules for calculating their area, circumference, or diagonal.

Arithmetic and Algebra Many Persian texts on arithmetic and algebra were written for educational purposes. They taught the different systems of calculation and numeration such as the Indian decimal system, calculating by heart and fingers, or the sexagesimal system with letters used in astronomy and astrology. Very often they bear no author’s name and only a generic title, e. g., Resâle dar hesâb (Treatise on Arithmetic) or Resâle dar jabr va moqâbele (Treatise on Algebra). A Persian text of this genre whose author is known is the Lobb‑e hesâb (The Quintessence of Arithmetics) by Ali b. Yusof b. Ali Monshi (12 th century).36 It consists of an introduction, four parts, and a concluding section. Each part is divided into several chapters and each chapter into numerous sections. It combines types of calculation and numeration with problems from algebra. In contrast to today’s approach, it does not treat addition and subtraction, but starts immediately from multiplication and the extraction of roots. Then follows the division of integers and fractions. Further topics of arithmetic treated by Monshi concern even numbers and their parts, squares and cubes and their roots, and methods to check 36 Ali b. Yusof b. Ali Monshi, Lobb al hesâb, introd. by J. Shirâziyân (Tehran, 1989), a facsimile of a unicum MS of the 6 th /12 th c., Central Library of the University of Tehran.

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results. He then turns to what is now called irrational numbers following the nomenclature and methods of Book X of the Elements and its commentators. The next set of chapters deals with ratios and proportions and their applications, in particular for commercial purposes and taxes, and the regula falsi (false position). The third part is devoted to algebra and the fourth part to practical geometry (surveying). Another author of the same period is Mohammad b. Ayyub al-hâseb Tabari who lived under the Saljuqs and is mentioned in Beyhaqi’s biographical dictionary of scientists, Tatemmat Sevân al-hekme (1164). He wrote, among other things, two treatises in Persian on arithmetic, Shomâr-nâme (The Book of Numbers) and Meftâh al-mo’âmelât (The Key of Transactions) as well as two treatises on the astrolabe. One is Shesh-fasl (Six chapters)37, on the component parts of the astrolabe and their function and use, probably for the instruction of students, because its content is arranged in a series of questions and answers. The second treatise, A’mâl va alqâb (Operations and Epithets), is a summary of the Sheshfasl written for a member of the nobility. In the beginning of this treatise Tabari specifies that “there are three kinds of astrolabes: spherical (koravi) used in earlier periods; circular (dowri) and flat, used in the author’s time; and a ‘boat-shaped’ (zowraqi)” described by Tabari as “a hemisphere, like a cup” which was used in pre-Islamic Iran. He adds that the astrolabe was called in Pahlavi “the world-displaying cup” (jâm‑e jahân-namâ)38.

Astronomy The first major summa of astronomy in Persian seems to have been written in the 11th century by Eyn-al-Zamân Hasan b. Ali Qattân Marvazi (1072–1153) entitled Geyhân-shenâkht (Knowledge of the 37 Mohammad b. Ayyub Tabari, Ma’refât‑e ostorlâb ma’rûf be Shesh fasl be zamîme-ye A’mâl va alqâb , ed. M. Amin Riyâhi (Tehran, 1993). 38 On the use of this metaphor in poetry see S. Ghazni, Seyr‑e akhtarân dar Divân‑e Hâfez (Tehran, 2001), note 138.

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Universe).39 It consists of three parts. Part one discusses the structure of the universe and focuses on the supra-lunar world. It contains a diagram of homocentric circles representing the earth, the moon, the planets, the sun, and the sphere of the fixed stars, as well as planetary models and tables. Part two discusses the sublunar world. It also presents a diagram for determining the prayer direction and a semi-circular map of the inhabited earth. Part three surveys timekeeping, lunar phases, and lunar and solar eclipses, which are visualized in tables and diagrams. Five astronomical texts in Persian were written in the 13th and early 14th centuries by Nasir-al-Din Tusi and Qotb-al-Din Shirâzi (1236–1311): Resâle-ye Mo’iniyye dar hay’e (Treatise for Mo’in alDin on the Configuration [of the Universe], 1235), Hall‑e moshkelât‑e Mo’iniyye (The Solution of Difficulties of the Mo‘iniyye, 1236), Zij‑e Ilkhâni (Ilkhanid Tables, completed in 1271), Zobde-ye hay’e (The Essence of the Configuration [of the Universe], unknown date), and Ekhtiyârât‐e Mozaffari (Elections for Mozaffar, 1281–82). Nasir-al-Din Tusi wrote the first four, and Qotb-al-Din Shirâzi was the author of the last work. In particular Tusi’s texts reveal the changed relationship between Arabic and Persian in his scholarly activity. While his Arabic book al-Tadhkere fi elm alhay’e (Memoir on the Science of the Configuration [of the Universe]) became much more influential than his Persian texts, the Mo’iniyye and its continuation Hall‑e moshkelât that preceded it, set the frame for the later Arabic textbook, and already contained some of Tusi’s new ideas for solving basic problems of Ptolemy’s planetary models, among them the so-called Tusi Couple (joft‑e Tusi)40. The Zobde was translated from Persian into Arabic, thereby reversing the one-way Arabic to Persian relationship between the two languages that existed previously. Persian had therefore come into its own as a self-standing language of the mathematical sciences. 39 Hasan b. Ali Qattân Marvazi, Geyhân-shenâkht, introd. by M. Mar’ashi Najafi (Qom, 2000); facsimile of a MS dated 586/1190, Mar’ashi Library. 40 F. J. Ragep, Naṣīr al-Dīn al-Ṭûsî’s Memoir on Astronomy (al-Tadhkira fî ʿ ilm al-hayʾa) Volume I: Introduction, Edition, and Translation (New York, 1993), p. 65.

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The Mo’iniyye contains an introduction and three main parts on geometry, natural philosophy, the configuration of the celestial bodies, and the earth. In several chapters, Tusi expresses his doubts regarding Ptolemy’s models of the planetary movements and explains some of the grounds for such doubts.41 The Hall‑e moshkelât sets out to explain some of the points not fully explained in the Mo’iniyye, summarizes simple procedures like the work with the so-called Indian circle, presents difficult topics such as Ebnal-Heytham’s (d. after 1040) latitude theory, and introduces in addition to the rectilinear form of the Tusi couple his alternative models for Ptolemy’s deferent.42 Both texts are dedicated to Ismaili rulers. In the field of astronomy, Tusi is also the author of Bist bâb dar ostorlâb (Twenty Chapters on the Astrolabe), and a treatise on how to produce an almanac (Bist bâb dar ma‘refat‑e taqvîm). In 1250, he translated Abd-al-Rahmân Sufi’s Ketâb sovar al kavâkeb al-thâbete (Catalogue of the Constellations of the Fixed Stars) into Persian. The astronomical handbook Zij‑e Ilkhâni (Ilkhanid Tables) carries the name of Nasir-al-Din Tusi, but it was the result of the twelve years of observational cooperation of a group of Arab, Iranian, and perhaps even Chinese scholars at the Mongol court in Marâghe. In addition to data derived from observations, the tables in the handbook are also built on the works of earlier astronomers, going back as far as to the 10th century. This prompted later astronomers to criticize the book. Nonetheless, it was very successful. It was translated into Arabic and exchanged as a gift among princes. It represented the standard practice of the profession found in many other such handbooks. Some values could result from new observations as in this case, but many numerical values were simply appropriated from older material and often not even recomputed. Qotb-al-Din Shirâzi wrote two Arabic and one Persian work on planetary models and related topics. His Ekhtiyârât‐e Mozaffari summarized in Persian major parts of his Arabic text Nehâyat al‐ edrâk fi derâyat al‐aflâk (The Highest Perception of the Knowledge 41 Ragep, Naṣīr al-Dīn al-Ṭûsî’s Memoir, pp. 67–68. 42 Ragep, Naṣīr al-Dīn al-Ṭûsî’s Memoir, pp. 66, 70.

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of the Orbs), which was completed in November 1281 for a local ruler in Kastamonu near Sinope on the southern shores of the Black Sea. The Persian summary is undated, but recent research has ascribed it to the months immediately after the composition of the Arabic text.43 The title of the Persian work links it to the field of astrology, but its content displays a substantial amount of higher-level discussion on planetary models. That is why the text is often characterized in modern research as belonging to elm al-hay’e. Such a view is supported by Shirâzi’s preface in which he praises astronomy and criticizes the shortcomings of Ptolemy’s Almagest. In this preface, Shirâzi also describes his work as an introductory course for beginners and identifies as his goal the preservation of this kind of knowledge in Persian, his maternal language.44 There were two new versions of tables written in Persian most likely under two Timurid princes (Eskandar-Soltân and Ulugh Beg). One of them, known as Zij‑e Khâqâni, was the work of Ghiyâth-al-Din Jamshid Kâshi (Kâshâni). Its compilation began in Iran, possibly in Shiraz (before 1413), including observational results (lunar eclipses) from Kashan (1405–6). Some tables were finished only after Kâshi had arrived in Samarqand (1420), invited by Ulugh Beg.45 The other handbook was written by Kâshi’s successors at the observatory in Samarqand (1437), known under several titles, for instance Zij‑e Ologh Beg. The latter was translated into Arabic, Turkish, Sanskrit and partly into Latin. In the 15th century, several but more elementary astronomical texts were composed in Arabic or translated from it for Timurid and Ottoman rulers. The many Persian astronomical texts that provide the basis for 43 K. Niazi, Quṭb al-Dīn Shīrāzī and the Configuration of the Heavens: A Comparison of Texts and Models (Dordrecht, 2013); A. Gamini, “Quṭb alDīn Shīrāzī and the Development of Non-Ptolemaic Planetary Modeling in the 13 th Century,” Arabic Sciences and Philosophy 27/2 (2017), pp. 165–203. 44 Niazi, Quṭb al-Dīn Shīrāzī, pp. 126–28. 45 Hamid Bohlul, “A Critical Edition, Translation, and Commentary of Ghiyāth al-Dīn Jamshīd Kāshānī’s Nuzhat al-Ḥadā’iq and its Appendices along with a Survey of Origin, Construction, and Use of the Equatorium (Ṣafīḥa) in the Islamic Astronomy,” Ph. D. diss., Institute for Humanities and Cultural Studies (Tehran, 2017), pp. 22–26.

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education at madrasas offer introductions to the structure of the universe, planetary models—apparently mostly of the Ptolemaic type—eclipses, and terrestrial climes.

Astrology Astrology was practiced in pre-Islamic Iran to a high extent, not only syncretizing foreign theories and transmitting them but also developing original trends in the field.46 Among the latter, the most important one was on the one hand historical astrology, based on the conjunctions of Saturn and Jupiter, namely the Great Conjunction occurring every 960 years,47 in tune with Iranian millennialism, and on the other hand, the introduction of the Head and the Tail of (the imaginary planet) the Dragon among the planets. The essentials of Sasanian astrological knowledge were incorporated in the Arabic writings of Abu Ma’shar Balkhi (d. 886), especially in his Great Introduction to Astrology, which contains in particular the description of images of Teucros’ thirty-six decans (originally translated from Greek to Middle Persian), and in his Ketâb aloluf (Book of Thousands) treating cycles based on conjunctions. Ma’shar’s theories were summarized later by Ahmad b. Mohammad Abd-al-Jalil Sejzi (d. after 998) especially in his Arabic work Jâme’ al-shâhi (The Royal Compendium). On the whole these archaisms gradually disappeared in Arabic writings on astrology in Iran, having been updated by Greek astrology; nevertheless, the archaic astrological figures of 360 degrees of the sky will continue 46 For a brief survey of inventions of Sasanian astrology, cf. D. Pingree, From Astral Omens to Astrology (Rome, 1997), chap. 4 (pp. 39–50), and A. Panaino, “Sasanian Astronomy and Astrology in the Contribution of David Pingree,” in G. Gnoli and A. Panaino, eds., Kayd: Studies in the History of Mathematics, Astronomy and Astrology in Memory of David Pingree (Rome, 2009), pp. 73–103; for a more detailed study of conjunctions, cf. D. Pingree, The Thousands of Abu Ma‘shar (London, 1968). 47 Astrological history refers to the possibility of applying horoscopy to predicting or reconstructing historical events (D. Pingree, “iii. Astrology in Islamic Times,” in EIr, II, pp. 858–71).

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to be transmitted late in the Islamic period, in particular by Persian translations and illustrations, a subject that will be discussed later in this chapter. In spite of the refutation of astrology by Avicenna;48 the skepticism of Abu-Reyhân Biruni, who considered that astrology was not an exact science;49 and the frequent hostility of the religious class towards predictions, astrological literature flourished. The main literary genres in the field were the manuals (general introductions), the individual horoscopes, and the ‘elections’ (ekhtiyârât treatises/catarchic astrology)—i. e. the choice of the propitious times for initiating activities—which all exist also in Persian. The outstanding example of such manuals is Biruni’s Ketâb al-Tafhim li-avâ’el senâ’at al-tanjim (The Book of Instructions in the Elements of the Art of Astrology) written in Ghazna in 1029 for a noble Khwârazmian lady, Reyhâne Bent-al-Hasan.50 The old Persian translation of Tafhim, which is not thought to be by Biruni himself though roughly contemporary, is the same in contents as the Arabic version but is arranged in the form of questions and answers.51 Both versions treat in order geometry, arithmetic, astronomy (including geography, chronology and astrolabe), and astrology; Biruni divides the latter into the signs, the planets, division of the signs, the houses, the part of fortune, and judicial astrology. Another manual is represented by Shahmardân b. Abi’l-Kheyr’s Rowzat al-monajjemin, written in 1072 in Rayy, probably for students. He studied there with the mathematician Ali Nasavi. He also exercised the charge of a dabir in northern Iran before writing, between 1113–20, his encyclopedia Nozhat-nâme-ye Alâ’i52 for the Kakuyid Abu-Kâlijâr Garshâsp. He had already composed 48 M. Ullmann, Die Natur- und Geheimwissenschaften im Islam (Leiden, 1972), p. 275; Avicenna’s Resâle fi ebtâl ahkâm al-nojum was translated in French by A. F. Mehren, “Vues d’Avicenne sur l’astrologie,” Le Museon 3 (1884), pp. 383–403. 49 Abû Rayhân Biruni, Ketâb al-tafhîm le-awâ’el senâ’at al-tanjîm, tr. R. Wright as The Book of Instruction in the Elements of the Art of Astrology (London, 1934), p. 210, § 346. 50 Biruni, Book of Instruction, p. 2. 51 Abu-Reyhân Biruni, , al-Tafhim, ed. J. Homâ’i (Tehran, 1988). 52 For the editions of Shahmardân’s works, see n. 13.

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several works in Arabic before he wrote his Persian works where he expressed his opinion on the use of Persian and Arabic in scientific works as already mentioned in the introduction. His Rowzat is an interesting compilation frequently disposed in the form of tables (jadval ): He starts with hesâb‑e hendi (Indian reckoning), describes calendars, the “world year,” the astrolabe, and astronomical tables; nevertheless, he focuses mainly on astrological techniques—“elections” (ekhtiyârât) and horoscopes—and adds a general introduction to the science of astrology as well as a section of twenty questions and answers concerning the field.53 He ends his book with a description of constellations. Two later authors, Sharaf-al-Din Mas’udi Bokhâri [Marvazi]54 and Mohammad b. Mas’ud Ghaznavi55 wrote more theoretical and thus more classical manuals, with a more limited scope. The Lavâyeh al-qamar (Flashes of light from the Moon) of Vâ’ez Kâshefi is an interesting example of the genre of “elections” (ekhtiyârât), prognostication of the propitious and unpropitious moments considering the position of the planets. Kâshefî wrote seven treatises in this field, concerning seven planets (Sab’e-ye Kâshefiyye), but only one, on the Moon, written in 1473, has survived.56 It is dedicated to Majd-al-Din Mohammad Khwâfi, the vizier of Sultan Hoseyn Bâyqarâ, and the name of the dedicatee is concealed in a short poem in the introduction; in the same introduction some quotations of Qur’anic verses concerning the sky also appear. Kâshefi compiles all previous sources on the subject of “elections,” quotes them and lists 153 situations in which the technique of ekhtiyârât is useful: marriage, writing of testaments, traveling, buying land, getting rid of illness, learning, founding cities, starting a war, fabricating gold, … . Another example of astrology under the Timurids is represented by the horoscope of the Timurid 53 Shahmardân, Rowzat, pp. 115–34. 54 Sharaf-al-Din Mas’udi Bokhari, Majma’ al-ahkâm, ed. A. Hasuri (Tehran, 2000). 55 Storey, PL, II/1, pp. 46–47 (no. 84). 56 Storey, PL, II/1, p. 78 (no. 116). For an old copy see E. Blochet, Catalogue des manuscrits persans de la Bibliothèque nationale (4 vols, Paris, 1905–34), II, pp. 149–50; this copy was made for an astrologer of Indian origin.

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Eskandar-Soltân, which is famous for its illustration.57 Numerous horoscopes were made, intended mainly for rulers. Similar to its textual models in Arabic, Persian literature on astrology also contained more specialized genres, as for instance the Persian commentary by Nasir-al-Din Tusi of Sad-kaleme (Hundred aphorisms; originally, Karpos/Thamare ‘The Fruit’) of pseudo-Ptolemy translated into Arabic.58 Tusi wrote it at the request of the vizier of Hulegu, Shams-al-Din Joveyni. The other example of specialized genre is the description of the 360 degrees of the sky/ sphere (i. e. of the ecliptic, thirty degrees by zodiacal sign). It is noteworthy that Biruni in his Tafhim devotes a large section to the description of archaic characteristics of planets (their appearance, attributes, etc.)59 as well as of zodiacal signs60 and even mentions the images of Teucros’ decans, saying that in his time it was not known anymore how to use them.61 But he does not describe the images of thirty-six decans originally composed of deities and asterisms as can be seen in their verbal description in Arabic by Abu-Ma’shar in his Great Introduction. Nor does Biruni describe the images of various series of 360 degrees of the sky (sovar al-darajât), another particularity of Sasanian astrology.62 There existed various series of degrees in the Islamic world—those of Zoroaster, of Abu Dhâtes Bâbeli, of ps.-Teucros and of Tomtom Hendi63etc., the last two series having played an important role in the Iranian world through their Persian translations which were moreover 57 T. W. Lentz and G. D. Lowry, Timur and the Princely Vision (Washington and Los Angeles, 1989), pp. 146–47. 58 Tusi, Khwâje Nasir-al-Din, Sharh‑e Thamare-ye Batlamyus, ed. J. Akhavân Zanjâni (Tehran, 1999). 59 Biruni, Book of Instruction, § 396–435 (planets). 60 Biruni, Book of Instruction,. § 359–371 (signs). 61 Biruni, Book of Instruction,. § 450 (sovar decans). The corresponding Greek treatise of Teucros was translated both into Middle Persian and into Arabic but was apparently not translated into (New) Persian since no such text is extant. 62 Contrary to the case of decans, the original text of the description of the degrees of the sky is not known, but it is assumed that the description of each degree stemmed from the images of the corresponding decan. 63 For these authors see M. Ullmann, op. cit., pp. 278–79 (Teucros), pp. 96–97 (Tomtom Hendi), pp. 294–95 (Zoroaster), p. 420 (Abu-Dhâtes Bâbeli).

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illustrated. The Arabic version of the verbal descriptions of degrees attributed to Teucros was translated from Nabatean in the 10 th century64 and was also translated into Persian in the 12 th century. This Persian translation was copied and illustrated under Shah Abbâs II (in 1663) as Sovar‑e darajât‑e Tangeloshâ (The Images of Teucros’ Degrees). In this text, each degree contains a verbal description of its image and also includes further prognostic comments. For instance, for the 7 th degree of the zodiacal sign of Jowzâ (Gemini), it is written: In this degree figure the idols (botân) of the sun and the moon and both utter words of great benefit (fâyede-ye bozorg); the person born under this degree will be of agreeable and friendly appearance …65

The series of degrees by Tomtom Hendi, were illustrated in India, in the second half of the 16 th c. in at least two different works: a) in Nojum al-olum (Stars of Sciences) written for (or by) the Bijapur sultan Ali Âdel Shâh in 1570 (text known in at least three MS copies);66 in this text the image of each degree is painted in a medallion (toranj) and its number and the verbal description of the image placed at the bottom of it; b) the second work is al-Serr al-maktum fi mokhâtebât al-nojum (The Hidden Secret on the Conversation of Stars), written in Arabic by Fakhr-al-Din Râzi between 1179–2010 and translated into Persian in 1236 for the sultan of Delhi, Iltutmish, and his son. 64 T. Fahd, “Ibn Waḥshiyya,” in EI2 , III, p. 964. 65 See [ps. Teucros], Tangelushâ yâ sovar‑e daraj, ed. R. Homâyunfarrokh (Tehran, 1978), illustrations; [ps.-Teucros], Tanklushâ az mo’allef‑e nâshenâkhte be zamime-ye “Madkhal‑e manzum” az Abd-al-Jabbâr Khojandi (sorude be sâl 616 h. q.), ed. Rezâzâde Malek (Tehran, 2004). 66 The Chester Beatty Library, Dublin, possesses two MS copies of Nojum al-olum; cf. E. Flatt, “The Authorship and Significance of the Nujūm alʿUlūm: A Sixteenth-Century Astrological Encyclopedia from Bijapur,” JAOS 131 (2011), pp. 223–44. It was recently established that the MS Persian 373 in the Wellcome Library is Nojum al-olum; see S. Tourkin, “Astrological Images in Two Persian Manuscripts,” in N. Allan, ed., Pearls of the Orient: Asian Treasures from the Wellcome Library (London and Chicago, 2003), pp. 73–86.

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The degrees by Tomtom Hendi are verbally described in this summa on Sabean (Harranian) beliefs linked to astral magic. This translation was probably illustrated for Akbar (ca. 1580), a copy of which is only partly preserved today;67 each degree is painted in a square and contains above it the inscription of its number, the verbal description of its image, the name of the (spirit of) the degree, the corresponding incense and its magical effect. Astral magic, i. e., invocation of planets considered as “spiritualities” (ruhaniyyât), uses several astrological elements in its ritual, and the degrees clearly possess a magical power in this context. The illustrated copies of degrees—be it those of Teucros or of Tomtom Hendi—are a particularity of Persian literature, since no illustrations of degrees in Arabic texts are known: the Arabic translation of Teucros’ degrees as well as the description of degrees of Tomtom Hendi by Râzi in his Arabic Serr, contain only verbal descriptions of images. And it is the same for all other descriptions of degrees in Arabic texts in the Islamic world; they are only verbal.

4. Natural Philosophy / Physical Sciences The natural philosophy of the Aristotelian tradition was summarized in a masterly fashion by Avicenna in his Arabic works, al-Shefâ’ and al-Najât, as well as in his Persian Dânesh-nâme. Theoretical chapters of physics notwithstanding, a great number of sections pertaining to physics, in the broad sense of the term, were on the one hand incorporated into popular cosmographies (ajâyeb al-makhluqât). They also gave birth to a series of independent treatises, as was the case of meteorology (âthâr‑e olvî). It is noteworthy that the original Aristotelian corpus apparently lacked the 4 th chapter of meteorology devoted to mineralogy. For a long time therefore, it was the corresponding section in the Shefâ’ by 67 B. Schmitz and Z. A. Desai, Mughal and Persian Paintings and Illustrated Manuscripts in the Raza Library, Rampur (New Delhi, 2006), pp. 20–27, pls. 13–19.

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Avicenna that was considered in the Latin West as the genuine work of Aristotle.68

Meteorology This genre treats, in order, the causality of atmospheric phenomena (rain, snow, thunder, wind, rainbow, halo of the moon, etc.); formation of mountains, rivers, springs, wells, qanâts (kâriz), earthquakes, etc.; and also mineralogy (quicksilver, salts, ammoniac, sulphur, the seven metals, metallic compounds, etc.). Persian treatises in the field are written in a simple pedagogical style, apparently linked with the practice of majles discussions: Abu-Hâtem Esfezâri’s, Resâle-ye âthâr‑e olvi (Treatise on Meteorology),69 Omar b. Sahlân Sâvaji’s Resâle-ye Sanjariyye (Treatise for Sanjar), and Sharaf-al-Din Mas’udi [Bokhâri] Marvazi’s Resâle-ye âthâr‑e olvi,70 the last cited author having been already mentioned under astrology. The most notable of these authors was Esfezâri, collaborator of Omar Khayyâm at the observatory in Isfahan under Malekshâh. He constructed, under Sanjar, the hydrostatic “balance of Archimedes,” which could detect alloys passing for gold, the reason for which Sanjar’s treasurer destroyed it, out of fear. Beyhaqi says that Esfezâri was so affected by this act that he “died of grief.” The description of his balance was incorporated in a famous book, Mizân al-hekme (The Balance of Wisdom, 1121) by his pupil Khâzeni.71 Esfezâri’s treatise on meteorology, dating before 500/1106–7, was written for a vizier of Sultan Barkyâroq. The books of Sâvaji and Marvazi follow roughly the same pattern, adding very detailed descriptions of the four elements, simple and compound, where they 68 Avicennae De congelatione et conglutinatione lapidum: Being Sections of the Kitâb al-Shifâ’, the Latin and Arabic Texts, ed. and tr. E. J. Holmyard and D. C. Mandeville (Paris, 1927). 69 Abu-Hâtem Esfezâri, Resâle-ye âthâr‑e olvi, ed. Modarres Razavi (Tehran, 1940). 70 Sâvaji’s and Marvazi’s treatises were edited in the same volume: Do resâle dar bâre-ye âthâr‑e olvi; ed. M. T. Dâneshpazhuh (Tehran, 1958). 71 D. Pingree, “Asfezārī,” in EIr, II, pp. 748–49.

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discuss the causes of these phenomena with reference to Aristotle, Avicenna, and Esfezâri. Within the framework of natural philosophy, followed the “the Three Kingdoms of Nature” (mavâlid thalâthe): minerals, plants, and animals.

Mineralogy In the field of mineralogy, the Iranian world produced important texts in Arabic as well as in Persian. Among the Arabic texts, first we have the already mentioned mineralogical section in Avicenna’s Shefâ’. Second, the major treatise in Arabic by Biruni, al-Jamâhir al-javâher (Compendium on Precious Stones),72 written for Sultan Mowdud of Ghazna between 432–440/1040–48. The work is composed of an introduction and three parts: a detailed description, from various aspects, of gems (with particularly long sections on the ruby and the pearl) and stones, of minerals and metals, and of metallic compounds. The long and extremely original introduction, which contains frequent Qur’anic quotations, poetry, and anecdotes, is devoted to scientific and ethical considerations and deserves a study in itself. It focuses, among other things, on the value of gems and metals, the danger that is caused by the excessive attachment to them, and the way of managing the treasury according to political events of the time. These aspects are probably the invisible background of all the mineralogical treatises quoted below. Mohammad Jowhari Neyshâburi says: “Nothing in the world of generation and corruption is more fine and noble than the gems.”73 In Persian, the treatise by Nasr b. Ya’qub Dinâvari on mineralogy quoted by Biruni is lost, but there are three early extant works of importance by Mohammad Neyshâburi, Nasir-al-Din Tusi and Abu’l-Qâsem Kâshâni. The first is of particular significance: 72 Abu-Reyhân Biruni, Ketâb al-jamâhir fi ma’refat al-javâher, ed. Y. Hâdi (Tehran, 1995); tr. H. M. Said as Al-Beruni’s Book on Mineralogy: The Book Most Comprehensive on in Knowledge on Precious Stones (Islamabad, 1989). 73 Mohammad b. Abi’l-Barakât Jowhari Neyshâburi, Javâher-nâme-ye Nezâmî, ed. I. Afshâr (Tehran, 2004), p. 74 n. 74: hich chiz dar âlam‑e kown va fesâd nafistar va shariftar az javâher nist.

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Javâher-nâme-ye Nezâmi (Nezamian Book on Gems)74 was written in 592/1116 by Mohammad b. Abi’l-Barakât Jowhari Neyshâburi for a vizier of the Khwârazmshâh Tekesh. The importance of this text (whose sources are mainly Biruni, the pseudo-Lapidary of Aristotle and khavâss literature) is manifold. As with Tusi and Kâshâni, the main structure of the three treatises follows Biruni’s Jamâhir. But there are also differences: The introduction, on the formation of gems, stones, minerals, and ‘the seven metals’ (felezât‑e sab’e/haft gâne),75 contain in Persian clearly Aristotelian concepts and vocabulary. On the other hand, if the number of gems (javâher) is the same,76 the number of stones (ahjâr) is more than double compared to the figure found in Biruni: fifty-nine gems and stones altogether in Neyshâburi’s treatise. Comparison of some stones and metals in our texts shows the eventual dependence on previous models. But the important originality of the latter is found in the fact that Neyshâburi was a jeweler and engraver (hakkâk), which makes him well informed particularly in the field of gems, on their varieties, characteristics, prices, mines, polishing, and with special accent on their fakes (shebh‑e ân ke be tariq‑e sanâ’at besâzand).77 He also reports several anecdotes on contacts with rulers owing to his skill. For instance, Tekesh asked him in 588/1192 at Sarakhs to engrave a religious formula over an emerald from his treasury that was engraved with the image of a figure looking “like an idol” (methl‑e bot), but this image rather seems to be the representation of royal iconography from Eastern Iran.78 Interestingly, in the same year, Neyshâburi also made an evaluation of a red spinel (la’l) in the possession of the Ghurid Mohammad b. Sâm. 74 See n. 73. 75 Biruni quotes: quicksilver, gold, silver, copper, iron, tin, lead, khârsini (white bronze); Neyshâburî: first sulphur and quicksilver, then gold, silver, copper, tin, lead, iron, khârsini, âhan‑e chini (‘Chinese’ iron). 76 Biruni describes: ruby (corundum), spinel, garnet, diamond, pearl, emerald, turquoise, chalcedony/agate; Neyshâburi uses a different order: ruby (corundum), emerald, spinel, turquoise, diamond, pearl, garnet, chalcedony/agate. 77 Jowhari Neyshâburi, Javâher-nâme, p. 56. 78 F. Grenet and Z. Vesel, “Emeraude royale,” in B. Scarcia Amoretti and L. Rostagno, eds., Yâd-Nâma: In Memoria di Alessandro Bausani II (Rome, 1991), pp. 99–115 (4 figs.). The anecdote is told in Jowhari Neyshâburi, Javâher-nâme, pp. 114–15.

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But the most original part of Neyshâburi’s treatise is its fourth part containing a long description of the fabrication of ceramics (minâ va talâvihât),79 which differs from Biruni’s section on minâ as well as from the epilogue (khâteme) on san’at‑e kâshigari in Kâshâni. Iraj Afshâr was the first to discover that the two later treatises, Nasir-al-Din Tusi’s Tansukh-nâme-ye Ilkhâni80 (The Ilkhanid book of Precious offerings), probably written for Hulegu (or for Mongke?) between 654–7/1256–9, and Abu’l-Qâsem Kâshâni’s Arâyes al-javâher fi nafâyes al-atâyeb (The brides of jewels and the choicest of drugs),81 written in 700/1300 for one of the viziers of Oljâytu (Tâj-al-Din or Rashid-al-Din), were both mainly plagiarized from Javâher-nâme-ye Nezâmi. The name of the author is mentioned only once by Kâshâni, even though the treatise was apparently known, since he was quoted by the author of Gharâyeb aldonyâ, Âdhari Tusi (d. 1462), in a poem.82 On the whole, Tusi’s and Kâshâni’s treatises contain, as all later works,83 an update of the list of stones, mines, and prices and some specific particularities, such as separate chapters on perfumes (‘atr va atâyeb), an original chapter on ceramics by Kâshâni, or the reproduction of Biruni’s table of specific weights of gems and metals by Tusi.84 Nevertheless, Neyshâburi’s Javâher-nâme-ye Nezâmi must be regarded as the first outstanding extant text on this subject in Persian. 79 Y. Porter, “Le quatrième chapître du Javâher-nâme-ye Nezâmî,” in N. Pour­ javady and Z. Vesel eds., Sciences, techniques et instruments dans le monde iranien (Xe –XIXe s.) (Tehran, 2004), pp. 341–60. 80 Nasir-al-Din Tusi, Tansuq-nâme-ye Ilkhâni, ed. Modarres Razavi (Tehran, 1969). 81 Abu’l-Qâsem Kâshâni, Arâyes al-javâher fi nafâyes al-atâyeb, ed. I. Afshâr (Tehran, 1966). 82 Cf. I. Afshâr’s introd. to Jowhari Neyshâburi, Javâher-nâme, p. 18; “… dar Ketâb‑e javâher‑e barakât …” 83 For information on remaining works of mineralogy in the Iranian world, see Jowhari Neyshâburi, Javâher-nâme, Afshâr’s introd. to the edition, pp. 37–39. 84 The famous table of specific gravity of gems and metals obtained by a hydrostatic method is not contained in the Jamâhir—in spite of the fact that the subject of standard weights is currently treated by Biruni in this work—because he wrote it before Jamâhir, and it exists as an independent treatise. See Said, Al-Beruni’s Book on Mineralogy, introd. by Baloch, p. xvi (Maqâle fi’l-nesâb …).

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Botany and Zoology Unlike zoology, which was incorporated into the Shefâ’ and commented by Avicenna, there was no direct source from Aristotle available on botany. Information on both fields is scattered in commentaries, encyclopedias, medical and agricultural works, as well as in lexicographical literature. The main sources for botany were on the one hand agricultural, and on the other pharmacological treatises, namely that of Dioscorides and separate chapters on materia medica in medical encyclopedias. These sources will be treated below. In the field of zoology, sections in encyclopedias and cosmographies deal briefly with lexicography, medical and occult use, and eventually religious prohibitions as can be seen for instance in the zoological part of Nozhat al-qolub.85 Besides agricultural and medical sources (especially illustrations in Dioscorides), the main fields of independent zoological writings were hippology86 and ornithology, an important part being devoted to the medical aspects. The outstanding text in the latter field is the Bâz-nâme (The Book on Falconry), written in 1080 by Ali Nasavi.87 As well as being a mathematician, Nasavi was an expert on hunting and falconry from his early age and towards the end of his life he wrote this most complete encyclopedia on the subject, the author having collected all possible information on various aspects, provenance and sorts of falcons, their training, the cure of their illnesses, their use in divination, etc.; moreover, the book is extremely rich in specialized vocabulary. It is an example of court literature, for the falcon was closely associated with kings, as said in the Nowruz-nâme in the chapter on falcons: “The falcon is a companion to the king’s hunt … he possesses a magnificence (heshmat) that other birds do not have … though the eagle is larger than the falcon he does not possess such a majesty … .”88 85 J. Stephenson, The Zoological Part of Nuzhat al-Qulûb … (London, 1928). 86 N. Kariman, Asb-nâme-hâ-ye fârsi (Tehran, 2000). 87 Abu’l-Hasan Ali b. Ahmad Nasavi, Bâz-nâme, ed. A. Gharavi (Tehran, 1975); M. T. Dâneshpazhuh, “Bāz-nāma,” in EIr, IV, pp. 65–66; H. A’lam, “Bāz,” in EIr, IV, pp. 17–20; idem, “Bāzdāri,” in EIr, IV, pp. 53–58. 88 ps.-Omar Khayyâm, Nowruz-nâme, ed. A. Hasuri (Tehran, 1978), p. 67.

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Geography Geography in Persian was both a predecessor of geographical works composed in Arabic and a successor of major Arabic geographical works. It was a predecessor, since there is at least one Middle Persian text extant, the Shahrestânîhâ î Êrânshahr (The Provincial Capitals of Iran). This text has come down to us in a version produced in the second half of the 8th or perhaps even in the early 9th century, for it mentions the first two Abbasid caliphs; but it may have been initially composed in the 7th century, as it cites names of places in South Arabia and East Africa that were conquered in the reign of Khosrow II (r. 590–628). The Bundahishn, a compilation of writings about Zoroastrian cosmogony and cosmology and Kayanid history and geography of uncertain date, authorship, and title, reports another title of a Middle Persian geographical text, the Ayâdgâr-i Shahrihâ, which may have been commissioned by Kavad I (488–531). The relationship between these two texts remains unclear. Shahrestânîhâ î Êrânshahr divides the territory of the Sasanian Empire into four parts according to three cardinal directions and one province: northeast, southwest, southeast, and Âdurbâdagân. This division is believed to have been introduced under Khosrow II, although a similar perspective is already found in inscriptions from Achaemenid times. The list of toponyms in the Shahrestânîhâ î Êrânshahr contains items named only under Muslim rule such as Medina or Kufa. In addition, the work tells stories about mythical Iranian rulers, Iranian epic traditions, and history.89 Major geographical works of the 9th, 10th, and 11th centuries were written by authors of Iranian descent in Arabic. They incorporated geographical and cosmographical views and beliefs of ancient and late antique Iranian origin in combination with Greek concepts. A major set of concepts transmitted via written and oral Iranian sources combined the notions of keshvar, climes, and inhabited and uninhabited parts of the earth. Keshvar designated already in Achaemenid times one of seven parts, into which the 89 T. Daryaee, “Šahrestānīha-ī-Ērānšahr,” EIr online.

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known world, whether legendary or real, was divided. In its realistic versions, Iran (in different appellations) stood in its center, surrounded by six regions identified by languages (or ethnicities) and cardinal directions. Since the sources for this scheme all come from Muslim authors, it is not easy to determine the number of changes introduced to the Sasanian template. The Greek elements, already apparently included at least in parts during Sasanian times, are the division of the earth in longitudinal stripes measured in length of daylight and their latitudinal division into climes as well as the fourfold division of the earth into habitable and inhabitable zones.90 Mixtures of them impacted the organization, measurement, and theoretical discussion of the earth in texts and images during the entire time of pre-modern geography in Persian, that is well into the 19th century. The attitudes of Iranian Muslim geographers and mapmakers to the individual elements varied. Although most over time followed an approach that privileged Greek views in Arabic garb, whether in texts or maps, the main characteristic of both types of presentation of geographical knowledge was their hybridity. In the case of texts, this does not merely apply to the so-called scientific geographies in the tradition of Ptolemy (2 nd century), but also descriptions of administrative divisions, routes, and distances in the tradition of Ebn-Khordâdhbeh (fl. 3rd/9th century). In the case of maps, traces of maps probably joined to Ptolemy’s Geography in late Antiquity cannot only be seen in maps to texts drawing on one or the other Arabic translation of this Greek work, but in maps that relied visibly on the mapping tradition thought to have been inspired by lost Middle Persian ancestors and linked to names of primarily Iranian scholars such as Abu-Zeyd Balkhi (d. 932) or Abu-Eshâq Estakhri (d. c. 951). Other important authors of Arabic geographical works of Iranian origin were Mohammad b. Musâ Khwârazmi (d. after 833), Ebn-Faqih (10 th century), Ahmad b. Rosteh (10 th century), Sohrâb (10 th century), and Abu’l-Reyhân Biruni (d. after 1048). Their dates show that the period from the 9th to the 11th century was dominated by geographical works in Arabic. 90 A. Sh. Shahbazi, “Haft-kešvar,” EIr, XI, pp. 519–22.

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In the 10th century, the first geographical book in New Persian, Hodud al-âlam (Limits of the World), was composed by an anonymous author. From then on, most Iranian authors of geographical works used Persian. This applies in particular to independent geographical texts and maps, and geographical chapters in historical chronicles, cosmographies, and similar kinds of texts. As already mentioned, astronomical works, in particular astronomical handbooks, continued to appear in Arabic until the 13th century, when the Zij‑e Ilkhâni, the first major work of this genre, was compiled in Persian. The best-known geographical works written in Persian since the 11th century either as self-standing texts or as chapters in books on a broader range of subjects are the anonymous Fârs-nâme (The Book on Fârs) of the 11th century, Mohammad b. Najib Bakrân’s (d. after 1209) Jahân-nâme (The Book on the Universe), Hamd-Allâh Mostowfi’s (d. after 1340) third part of his Nozhat al-qolub (Delight of Hearts), and Hâfez‑e Abru’s (d. 1430) Joghrâfiyâ, also called Târikh (History). Several other historical works contain geographical chapters, and there are some anonymous geographical treatises, as well as maps, collections of tables, and instruments with geographical data made in Iran, India, and possibly Central Asia. In addition to newly composed geographical works, geographical works in Persian were translated from Arabic, among them Estakhri’s Masâlek ol-mamâlek (Routes of Kingdoms), which was translated more than once, and Abu’l-Fedâ’’s (1273–1331) Ketâb taqvim al-boldân (Book [called] the Survey of the Countries). Hodud al-âlam This Persian geography is said to have been compiled in the late 10th century, beginning in the year 982–83. Its author is unknown, but it is thought that he might have come from the province of Guzgân. Apart from his knowledge of this province, he apparently relied more on literary sources than on first-hand knowledge acquired through traveling. The work surveys the seas, islands, mountains, rivers, and deserts of the known world and introduces the reader 246

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to fifty lands in Asia, Europe, and Libya (its designation for the continent of Africa). Forty-four of them are north of the equator, five of them south of it, and one (Sudan) crossing it. Most of the text focuses on Central Asia, in particular the part called today Afghanistan. In addition to names of cities and villages, rivers, mountains, and lakes, its author talks about agricultural products and political circumstances. In addition to his home region, the author provides information about the Muslim world at large and territories outside it such as Byzantium, Central Asia, Tibet, China, and the lands of Slavonic and Turkic tribes. Although he does not name his sources, it is believed that he relied on older and contemporary Arabic as well as Turkic written or even oral information. Due to its succinct but early New Persian language, Hodud al-âlam is still today considered an important source for the transition from Middle to New Persian.91 Fârs-nâme It is believed that this local history and geography of the province Fârs was written by an otherwise unknown writer (usually called Ebn-al-Balkhi as supposedly his ancestors originated from Balkh), who lived in the 11th and early 12th century and whose grandfather may have been a chief accountant for taxes in this province. Traveling with him provided the grandson with first-hand experience of the territory of the province. Nonetheless, about two-thirds of the book is devoted to history, mostly in mythical garb. The remainder, which discusses the districts of the province, includes much historical material, but of more recent times and thus less legendary. In addition, the anonymous author provides material about tribes living in the province as well as about revenues.92 The short geographical discourse about Fârs appears at the end of the book. It starts with an explanation of the elements needed for 91 Hodud al-âlam men al-Mashreq elâ’l-Maghreb, ed. M. Sotude (Tehran, 1983); tr. V. Minorsky as Hudud al-‘ âlam: The Regions of the World (London, 1937); C. E. Bosworth, “Ḥodūd al-ʿālam,” in EIr XII, pp. 417–18. 92 C. E. Bosworth, “Ebn-al-Balkī,” in EIr VIII, p. 4.

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visualizing it in a sketch. These elements are the corners explained as angles and the borderlines identified as the circumference of a quadrilateral.93 The four corners or cardinal directions are identified with Isfahan, Kerman, Khuzestan, and Badri. Next comes a list of the five districts of Fârs: Estakhr, Dârâbgerd, Ardashir, Shâpur, and Qobâd. Each of the districts is determined in multiples of the Iranian linear measure farsakh and the number of cities and smaller units it contains. Then these subunits are named and described in terms of historical data, climate, water, and other natural conditions, as well as their produce.94 Further standard elements of geographical works follow afterwards, among them islands, rivers, seas and lakes, fortresses, routes, and tribes or other groups of population, to which prairies and deserts plus revenues are added.95 Jahân-nâme The Jahân-nâme (ca. 605/1208) of Mohammad b. Najib Bakrân consists of twenty parts and describes a world map that he, according to the first chapters of his text, produced for the Khwârazmshâh Alâ’-al-Din Mohammad b. Tekesh. In these twenty chapters, the author explains basic technicalities of mapmaking including the colors attributed to different geographical objects and distances between localities followed by the then more or less standard sequence of geographical topics: seas, lakes, islands, rivers, mountains, deserts, cities, people, particular properties of and miraculous appearances in some localities, jewels and mines, localities where Arabs live, and stories about some places.96 In the introduction, Ebn-Najib Bakrân mentions a few sources on which he had relied. Some of them had been written in Persian such as the Ashkâl‑e aqâlim (Contours of Climes) by the not well-known author Mohammad b. 93 Ebn-al-Balkhi, Fârs-nâme, ed. by G. Le Strange and R. A. Nicholson as Fársnáma (London, 1921), pp. 120–21. 94 Ebn-al-Balkhi, Fârs-nâme, pp. 121–48. 95 Ebn-al-Balkhi, Fârs-nâme, pp. 150–72. 96 Mohammad Ebn-Najib Bakrân, Jahân-nâme, ed. M. Amin Riyâhi (Tehran, 1963), pp. 4–5.

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Bahr al-Rahabi and the Safar-nâme (The Book of Travels) of Nâser‑e Khosrow (1004–88), while others were Arabic texts, among them Ebn-Khordâdhbeh’s work mentioned above. For a part of his numerical data Ebn-Najib Bakrân claims to have relied on a part of a text written by Sharaf-al-Din Tusi (1135–1213), who had just returned from his travels to the west.97 The first chapter introduces astronomical, astrological, and geodetic concepts and methods. Interestingly enough, he claims that ancient scholars presented the world in semi-circular maps.98 As far as it is known, this applies only to some astronomical handbooks by Muslim authors. Sharafal-Din Tusi’s map may have been a full circle divided by small circles on which Ebn-Najib Bakrân inserted where the cities should be placed.99 This could mean that he had worked with a grid, which is only rarely found on extant Arabic or Persian maps (for other examples see below). Other interesting details provided by the author concern the shape of the Caspian Sea and the use of a compass for crossing it longitudinally in ten days or even in a week.100 Although the measures cited by Ebn-Najib Bakrân for the sea’s length (260 farsakh) and width (200 farsakh) are inaccurate, they are in principle close to the truth, because the sea’s longer axis runs from the north to the south. His information about the colors he used on his map for the individual geographical objects is interesting since these conventions were not yet standardized and thus varied from map to map. The author’s Persian prose is straightforward as befitting a technical text. Moreover, compared to geometrical texts, it contains only a relatively small number of Arabic words. Nozhat al-qolub Hamd-Allâh Mostowfi (ca. 1281–1344), who came from an Arab family of high-ranking civil servants of the Abbasid caliphate and its Ilkhanid successors, wrote his Nozhat al-qolub in the   97   98   99 100

Ebn-Najib Bakrân, Jahân-nâme, p. 7. Ebn-Najib Bakrân, Jahân-nâme, p. 6. Ebn-Najib Bakrân, Jahân-nâme, p. 10. Ebn-Najib Bakrân, Jahân-nâme, p. 32.

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last years of Ilkhanid rule in Iran. The geographical part of his book fills its third part, which is divided into twenty-five chapters containing largely a quite detailed descriptive geography with excursions into political, religious, and natural history. With the many dates he provides about latitudes, longitudes, and distances, and the use of the climes and cardinal directions, the author also introduces his readers to the basics of mathematical geography, a feature strengthened by the maps he adds to his text. His regional map of Iran, for instance, uses a rectangular grid. Among Hamd-Allâh Mostowfi’s geographical sources for this part were Sovar al-aqâlim (Forms of Climes), believed to have been the one authored by Abu-Zeyd Balkhi; Ebn-Khordâdhbeh’s Ketâb almamâlek va’l-masâlek; Ahmad b. Abi-Abd-Allâh Mohammad Barqi’s (d. 887) Ketâb al-tebyân; Abu’l-Reyhân Biruni’s Geodesy; Abd-al-­Rahmân Khâzeni’s (d. after 1125) astronomical handbook; Yâqut’s (d. 1229) Ketâb al-mo’ jam; and the Fârs-nâme as well as Ebn-­Najib Bakrân’s Jahân-nâme (discussed previously). Except for the last two works, all of these sources were written in Arabic. The most often-used text among them is the Sovar al-aqâlim. It also served for providing historical data and information about marvels. The major text for this latter topic used by HamdAllâh Mostowfi is Zakariyâ’ Qazvini’s (d. 1283) Ketâb ajâ’eb al-­ makhluqât fi gharâ’eb al-mowjudât. As already prefigured in the earlier Arabic geographical sources, Hamd-Allâh Mostowfi focused on human geography. This means that in addition to information on latitude and longitude degrees and the number of the respective clime, for each location he furnished information about previous or present rulers, tribes, buildings, tombs, historical events, produce, revenues, and weather conditions. He collected these from a broad range of historical and literary works among them the Shâh-nâme, some administrative sources, and the Qur’an. The historical books deal primarily with Iran and Iraq. But Mostowfi also had access to a History of the Maghrib and indirectly to a History of Sicily. His discussions of elements of natural history such as stones, metals, mines, or weather phenomena draw on Tusi’s Tansukh-nâme, Qazvini’s book, and occasionally some summarily named cosmographies. In addition 250

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to these literary sources, Hamd-Allâh Mostowfi brought to the geographical part of his book the vast experience of his family and himself as high-ranking financial officers of the Abbasid and Ilkhanid administrations. His data about revenues are praised in modern research for their impressive display of detail.101 Mostowfi did not follow the more widespread structure of geographical works like the one by Ebn-Najib Bakrân, but combined the Mecca-centered approach of the Sovar al-aqâlim and Ebn-Khordâdhbeh’s Ketâb al-mamâlek va’l-masâlek with his interest in delineating Iran within in the larger Muslim world as an independent territory, clearly marked by latitude and longitude boundaries. Most of his text deals with the localities that cover this territory, their histories, people, and produce. In a few instances, he reports about the languages (Middle Persian, Iranian dialects, Turkic, Arabic dialects) spoken by the inhabitants of specific places. The above precedes his survey on seas, lakes, rivers, mountains, cities outside of Iran and even outside the Muslim world, as well as marvelous things. The frame of his presentation of Iran is provided by mathematical geography in terms of latitudinal and longitudinal degrees and the theory of the seven climes to which descriptions of roads and distances between places in terms of travel units are added. Here, he sometimes refers to Ptolemy and Biruni.102 Many poems in Arabic and Persian, including some of Mostowfi’s own quatrains, intersperse the various enumerations of names and numbers in addition to little bits and pieces of stories about prophets, rulers, saints, and the occasional ordinary person.103 Mostowfi’s Persian is more complex and thanks to the poetry at times more elegant than that of Ebn-Najib Bakrân. But it is also mixed with a deliberate amount of Arabic, either as complete quotes from Mostowfi’s sources or as phrases and single words. Sometimes, Mostowfi also uses explicitly Mongol words.104 101 Ch. Melville, “Ḥamd-Allāh Mostawfi,” in EIr, XI, pp. 631–64. 102 Hamd-Allâh Mostawfi Qazvini, Nozhat al-qolub, ed. G. Le Strange as The Geographical Part of the Nuzhat al-qulūb Composed by Hamd-Allah Mustawfī of Qazwīn in 740 (1340) (Leiden and London, 1915), pp. 10, 20–21. 103 Qazvini, Nozhat al-qolub, pp. 12, 17, 19, 27, 29, 47, 49–50, 78 and passim. 104 Qazvini, Nozhat al-qolub, pp. 257, 261.

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Joghrâfiyâ Hâfez‑e Abru came, like Hamd-Allâh Mostowfi, from a family of high-ranking, long-serving financial administrators. His book on geography mixed with history was finished around 1420. It focuses on classical parts of the Muslim world from the Maghrib to Central Asia. After a preface, it begins with a slightly modified classical sequence of the seven climes, oceans, lakes, rivers, provinces or kingdoms, and mountains. The bulk of the work presents the cities of each province or kingdom and their topography. Information on weather conditions or natural history is completely absent. Historical information is less present than in Mostowfi’s work. Not all parts are, however, found for all regions in the preserved manuscript versions of the text. For Central Asia, for instance, the historical comments are lost.105 The text is adorned with a world map in a rectangular grid, which most likely was inspired by Hamd-Allâh Mostowfi’s map of Iran, since he also took over parts of Mostowfi’s text. The list of geographical works that he presents as his sources agree mostly with those named by the Ilkhanid author, although it is much shorter than the one summarized in the previous section, except for one title. The additional title mentioned by Hâfez‑e Abru is the anonymous Qânun al-boldân. Ignati Kratchkovskiĭ was of the opinion that Hâfez‑e Abru was also familiar with the works of Edrisi (d. 1166) and Ebn-Sa’id Maghrebi (1213–1286).106 Like Mostowfi, the Timurid historian begins his discussion of the regions from Mecca. He places it as the first city of the lands of the Arabs, which he identifies with the Arabian Peninsula. Other Arabic regions like the Maghrib, al-Andalus, or Egypt are treated separately. The criteria of organization are cities and distances. Latitude and longitude degrees or numbers of climes are almost completely absent. Topographical information is more abundantly and systematically presented than in the Nozhat al-qolub. The Persian 105 O. Hiroshi, “Chinese and Asian Geographical and Cartographical Views in Central Asia and its Adjacent Regions,” Journal of Asian History 49 (2015), pp. 53–68. 106 I. I. Kratchkovskiĭ, Izbrannye sochineniya (6 vols., Moscow, 1955–1960), IV, p. 51.

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prose is more similar to that of Ebn-Najib Bakrân and contains less Arabic elements than Mostowfi’s work.107 Hâfez‑e Abru’s geography is the last independent substantial work on geography in Persian by an Iranian author published so far. Other geographical works written after him by Timurid or Safavid authors are much shorter or part of other texts, either on history or on astronomy. Authors in India contributed to geographical literature in Persian, while in the Ottoman Empire geographical texts were mostly composed in Turkish and to a lesser extent in Arabic. The only known geographical text compiled in Persian in the Ottoman Empire was the Khetâ’i-nâme of Ali-Akbar Khetâ’i (d. 1516).108 Indian writers on geography include Abu’l-Fazl Allâmi (1551–1602), Mohammad Sâdeq Esfahâni (d. c. 1680), and Hâshem Ali-al-Rezâ (?) (18 th-19 th centuries).

5. Medicine Medical Encyclopedias The Iranian world was rich in exceptional medical encyclopedias written in Arabic—by Ali Ebn-al-Abbâs Majusi (10 th c.), Abu-Bakr Mohammmad Ebn-Zakariyâ’ Râzi (Rhazes, d. ca. 925) and Ebn-Sinâ (Avicenna, d. 1037). They were translated into Latin and have exerted a lasting influence in the Islamic world and in the West. The most popular was Avicenna’s al-Qânun fi’l-tebb (The Canon of Medicine), which provided a synthesis of Galenic medicine, composed of: 1. The constitutional basis of medicine: definition of medicine, elements, temperament, humors, organs (bones, muscles, nerves, arteries, veins), faculties and functions; 107 Shehâb-al-Din Abd-Allâh Khwâfî Hâfez Abru, Joghrâfiyâ-ye Hâfez‑e Abru, ed. S. Sajjâdi (3 vols., Tehran, 1997–99). 108 Osmanlı Coḡrafya Literatürü Tarihi, vol. I (Istanbul, 2000), pp. 14–17; Kratchkovskiĭ, Izbrannye sochineniya, IV, pp. 522–27; Ali-Akbar Khetâ’i, Khetâ’i-nâme, ed. I. Afshâr (Tehran, 1979).

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 2. Health and disease;  3. Preservation of health;  4. Treatment of disease.109 The most significant medical manual in Persian was written by an exceptional physician, Esmâ’il Gorgâni (Jorjâni). He wrote his voluminous Dhakhire-ye Khwârazmshâhi (The Treasure for the Khwârazmshâh) in 1110 for Qotb-al-Din Mohammad, of the last dynasty of the Khwârazmshâhs. It contains ten chapters:  1. Anatomy and physiology;  2. Symptoms of illnesses;  3. Hygiene of the body;  4. Diagnostic and prognosis;  5. Fevers;  6. Illnesses of digestion and internal organs (examining the whole body: from head to foot);  7. Pathological conditions in the body (tumors, wounds);  8. Aesthetics and care of the body;  9. Toxicology of animal, vegetable and mineral poisons; 10. Pharmacopeia.110 The author says in the introduction that he composed his book to answer questions that interested the ruler and which the court scientists were unable to answer. Jorjâni also inserted in his encyclopedia a passage of questions and answers in the field of physiology, probably with the same intention.111 109 Mazhar H. Shah, The General Principles of Avicenna’s Canon of Medicine (Karachi, 1966). 110 Esmâ’il Jorjâni, Dhakhire-ye Khwârazmshâhi; in spite of its importance, there is no critical edition of the integral text. The first two volumes were edited by I. Afshâr and M. T. Dâneshpazhuh (Tehran, 1965 and 1972); the first three volumes by J. Mostafavi (Tehran, 1965, with the collaboration of E. Shâhdâd, 1971, 1974, and 1977); the only complete text is the facsimile of a MS dated 1206 CE, published by S. Sirjâni (Tehran, 1976); see also B. Thierry de Crussol des Epesse, “The Medical System of Later Galenism in Medieval Iran” and “Ismâ’il Gurgânî” in Z. Vesel et al., eds., Images, pp. 229 and 231, ill. 192. 111 Esmâ’il Jorjâni, Dhakhire-ye Khwârazmshâhi, ed. Afshâr and Dâneshpazhuh, pp. 184 sqq.

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Beside several other medical works, Jorjâni wrote two summaries of Dhakhîre. The first one that he called Khoffi-ye Alâ’i (The Book for Alâ’ portable in a boot)112 was written at the suggestion of the son of Qotb-al-Din Mohammad, Alâ’-al-Dowle Atsiz, when he was sixteen. In two parts—on theoretical and on practical medicine (i. e. hygiene and prognosis)—the small treatise could be carried inside boots “to be at hand and to be quickly consulted.”113 The second abridgement, on a larger scale, was also written for Atsiz, between 1128 and 1136, at the request of his vizier Majd-alDin Bokhâri, under the title of Aghrâz al-tebiyye va’l-mabâheth al-alâ’iyye (Medical Goals and Elevated Discussions).114 Jorjâni directed the hospital in the Khwarezmian capital but, towards the end of his life and with the onset of hostilities between the Saljuqs and the Khwârazmshâhs, he left for Marv to join the court of Sanjar where he translated Dhakhire-ye Khwârazmshâhi into Arabic before he died in 1136.115 Among the medical encyclopedias and treatises of various scope that were currently written in Iran and India is the exceptional case of a translation of Chinese medicine, from Chinese to Persian, under the direction of Rashid-al-Din Fazl-Allâh under the title of Tansuq-nâme yâ tebb‑e ahl‑e Khetâ (The Book of Precious Presents or the Medicine of the Chinese People)116. Chinese scholars and scientists were present in Iran in the Ilkhanid period, from the time of the Marâghe observatory to the Rob’‑e Rashidi in Tabriz. They also had an influence on the study of horticulture.

112 Esmâ’il Jorjâni, Khoffi-ye Alâ’i, eds. A. A. Velâyati and M. Najmâbâdi (Tehran, 1990). 113 Esmâ’il Jorjâni, Khoffi-ye Alâ’i, p. 1. 114 Esmâ’il Jorjâni, al-Aghrâz al-tebbiyye va’l-mabâheth al-alâ’iyye, ed. H. Tâjbakhsh (2 vols., Tehran, 2005–7). 115 Jorjâni thought in his turn, after Biruni and Shahmardân, that Arabic suits scientific texts better than Persian; cf. Richter-Bernburg, “Linguistic Shuʿūbīya,” pp. 60–61. 116 Rashid al-Din Fazl-Allâh, Tansuq-nâme yâ tebb‑e ahl‑e Khetâ, facs. ed. of MS dated 713/1313–14, introd. by M. Minovi (Tehran, 1972).

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Anatomy The description of human anatomy was present in all medical encyclopedias but circulated also in the form of an independent treatise written by Mansur b. Mohammad b. Elyâs. He wrote his Tashrih‑e Mansuri (Anatomy of Mansur)117 in 1386 in Shiraz for Pir Moh. b. Omar Sheykh Ebn-Timur, Timur’s grandson. The text was illustrated by five pages describing arteries, veins, nerves, bones and muscles; sometimes a sixth illustration representing a pregnant woman was added to the set. Two thirds of all anatomies extant in the Islamic world originate from Tashrih‑e Mansuri. Interestingly, among various medical works, copies of Jorjâni’s Dhakhire-ye Khwârazmshâhi may contain anatomical drawings as well as some medical works used in the Indian context, but they are contained more rarely in works in Arabic.118

Pharmacology Chapters on materia medica were present in medical encyclopedias. They also appeared in independent treatises from the outset. The contents of the genre consisted in description of simple and composite drugs, classified in alphabetical order, providing the description of their botanical and medical proprieties and their names in various languages. Al-Abniye an haqâyeq al-adviye (Fundamentals on the True Nature of Pharmacology) of Abu-Mansur Haravi has already been mentioned above for the significance of its early date of redaction (ca. 975), the date of its extant manuscript (1056, i. e. the oldest surviving manuscript in Persian), as well as the fact that its scribe was the famous poet Asadi Tusi. The description of 584 drugs draws on Islamic, Byzantine, and Indian traditions.119 117 Mansur b. Mohammad b. Ahmad Shirâzi, Tashrih‑e badan‑e ensân ma’ruf be “Tashrih‑e Mansuri,” ed. H. Burqa’i (Tehran, 2004). 118 See A. Newman, “Anatomy,” in Z. Vesel et al., eds, Images, pp. 232–35, illustrations 194–215 (captions by E. Savage-Smith). 119 See n. 7.

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Abu-Reyhân Biruni has already been mentioned in the context of his outstanding manuals in Arabic, al-Tafhim on astrology, and Ketâb al-jamâhir on mineralogy. At the end of his life, and assisted by a physician, he wrote his Ketâb al-seydane (The Book on Pharmacopeia).120 He discusses the science of pharmacology in the introduction and explains his methodology: “There is no limit to the experience and analogical reasoning on the use of drugs.”121 In the same introduction, which also contains some poems, there is a wellknown passage where he lavishes praise on the Arabic language for its elegance and concision and criticizes the Persian language for being only suited for tales.122 There exists an old translation of the text in Persian, made by Abu-Bakr Ali b. Othmân Kâshâni between 1211–1229, for the sultan of Delhi Iltutmish. Kâshâni’s translation is rather free, and, significantly, he omits the passage praising Arabic and disparaging the use of Persian in scientific texts. In marked contrast, Kâshâni praises Persian in his own introduction, which precedes the translation of Biruni’s treatise underlying that the Persian allows everybody to accede to knowledge.123 In the long list of Persian pharmacological treatises that followed the ones mentioned, one had a female dedicatee: Ekhtiyârât‑e Badi’i (Selections [of drugs] for Badi’ [al-Jamâl]) was written in 1368 in Shiraz by Zeyn-al-Attâr, a descendant of Khwâje Abdallâh Ansâri.124 He was in the service of the Mozaffarid Shah Shojâ’ and composed several medical works, including this pharmacological treatise for the princess Badi’-al-Jamâl, wife of Mobârez-al-Din Mohammad b. Mozaffar. Ekhtiyârât‑e Badi’i was criticized later by Hakim Mo’men in his Tohfat al-mo’menin (Present for Believers) written in 1669.125 The most complete pharmacological work of 120 Abu-Reyhân Biruni, Ketâb al-seydane fi’l-tebb, ed. A. Zaryâb (Tehran, 1991). 121 Al-Biruni’s Book on Pharmacy and Materia Medica, ed. and tr. H. M. Said with the collaboration of R. E. Elahie and S. K. Hamarneh (2 vols., Karachi, 1973); see I, p. 6. 122 Al-Biruni’s Book on Pharmacy, I, pp. 7–8. 123 Abu-Reyhân Biruni, Seydane, tr. into Persian by Abu-Bakr Ali b. Othmân Kâshâni, eds. I. Afshâr and M. Sotude (2 vols., Tehran, 1979), pp. 17–18. 124 Ali b. Hoseyn (Hâji Zeyn-al-Attâr) Ansâri Shirâzi, Ekhtiyârât‑e Badi’i, ed. Mohammad-Taqi Mir (Tehran, 1992). 125 Mohammad Hakim Mo’men Hoseyni, Tohfe-ye Hakim Mo’men (Tehran, n.d).

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the later period appears to be Makhzan al-adviye (the Dispensary of Pharmacology) compiled by Aqili Khorâsâni in 1771 in India where the author studied.126 Iran had a strong textual tradition of an illustrated text, namely Ketâb al-hashâyesh (Materia Medica) by Dioscorides (1st century).127 It was translated from Greek to Arabic by Estefân b. Basil (Stephanos son of Basil) in the 9 th century, a translation approved by his teacher Honeyn b. Eshâq. The latter translated Dioscorides into Syriac. The Iranian authors knew both versions: Abu-AbdAllâh Nâteli revised Stephanos’ Arabic translation in 990, probably in Samarqand. Another Iranian scholar, Mehrân b. Mansur in the late 12 th century translated Dioscorides into Arabic, not from the Greek but from the Syriac version made by Honeyn. Then followed three Persian translations of Dioscorides: the first one by Râmi in 1116, now lost, based on Nâteli’s revision of the Arabic text by Stephanos; the second by Ali Ebn-Sharif Hoseyni in the 15 th century and the third by Ghiyâth-al-Din Mohammad Rezavi in the 17 th century, probably under Shah Abbâs II, both based on Mehrân’s translation from Syriac into Arabic. The passages from Dioscorides’ text are frequently reproduced in various Persian texts on natural sciences and medicine, which confirms the high quality of Persian learned literature in the field of pharmacopeia.

6. Agriculture There was a steady production of agricultural treatises in Iran since the pre-Islamic period. The Varz-nâme dating from the Samanid period (10 th century) and no longer extant, contained passages from Kassianus Bassus (6 th century). The contents of the Persian treatises that followed consist of basic chapters on soil, calendar, meteorology, 126 Mohammad Hoseyn Aqili Khorâsâni, Qârâbâdin‑e kabir [including Makhzân al-adviye] (lithograph, 2 vols., Cawnpore, 1912); Storey, PL, II/2, pp. 280–83 (no. 492). 127 H. A’lam, “Dioscorides in the Lands of the Eastern Caliphate,” in Z. Vesel et al., eds, Images, pp. 244–57, illustrations. 216–68.

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cultivated alimentary plants, trees (namely fruit trees and vine), flowers, various domestic technics and animals relevant to agriculture. There are at least two texts that are directly linked to general politics to give a particular support to agriculture. The first one, from Ilkhanid period, is Âthâr va ehyâ’ (Remains and their Rejuvenation) attributed to Rashid-al-Din Fazl-Allâh.128 The text was contemporary with the enterprise of Rob’‑e Rashidi in Tabriz where Chinese scholars and scientists collaborated. Besides some of the usual basic chapters, the work—which is incomplete—contains a description of a large number of Chinese and Indian trees. The second text, from the Timurid period is Ershâd al-zerâ’e (Guidance of Agriculture) written in 1515 in Herat by Qâsem b. Yusof Abu-Nasr Haravi129, an important member of the administration of Timurid agronomy and hydrology.130 Ershâd, dedicated to the first Safavid ruler Shah Esmâ’il, has a long literary introduction with numerous verses, where the author develops the praise of agriculture. The chapters treat in order: 1) the soil; 2) the calendar; 3) leguminous plants, cereals and other graminaceae; 4) the vine tree; 5) vegetables, fragrant herbs, plants used for dyeing); 6) plantation of trees and flowers; 7) grafting of trees and vine, domestic technics, apiculture; the treatise is horticulturally noteworthy for its last chapter 8) which describes, in prose interspersed with verses, the construction of the “quadripartite garden” (chahâr-bâgh). It is a specific architectural concept of the walled garden in four parts (terraces), with a central water channel and a pavilion on the platform with a pool in front of it. The planting of trees and flowers follows a specific repertory. Qâsem b. Yusof Haravi was also the author of a Persian treatise on the hydronomy of Herat, i. e. the distribution of irrigation waters: Tariq‑e qesmat‑e âb‑e qolb.131 Apparently, the treatise on 128 Rashid-al-Din Fazl-Allâh Hamadâni, Âthâr va ehyâ’, eds. M. Sotude and I. Afshâr (Tehran, 1989). 129 Qâsem b. Yusof Abu-Nasr Haravi, Ershâd al-zerâ’e, ed. M. Moshiri (repr., Tehran, 1979). 130 The context of the work was studied in detail in M. E. Subtelny, Le monde est un jardin : Aspects de l’histoire culturelle de l’Iran médiéval (Paris, 2002). 131 Qâsem b. Yusof Abu-Nasr Haravi, Resâle-ye tariq‑e qesmat‑e âb‑e qolb, ed. R. Mâyel-Haravi (Tehran, 1968).

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qanâts, Ketâb enbât al-miyâh al-khafiyye (the Book on the Exploitation of Underground Waters), composed by Mohammad Karaji in 1017 in Arabic under the Buyids in Isfahan, was not translated into Persian. There were several additional treatises on agriculture written in the following centuries, and two of them are particularly important for the richness of their contents. The first one was compiled in India under Aurangzeb (1659–1707): the Farhang‑e ajâyeb al-haqâyeq‑e Owrangshâhi (The Dictionary of Wonders for Aurangzeb) by Hedâyat-Allâh b. Mohammad Mohsen Ja’fari. It is preserved in an illustrated copy of 600 folios,132 large in scope of the subjects treated; plants and animals are described under various aspects—medicine, agriculture, lexicography—with reference to Persian sources and Indian practice (among others for apiculture and sericulture). Ershâd al-zerâ’e is quoted several times, including the description of the chahâr-bâgh that is reproduced there. M. Subtelny had drawn attention to the fact that Ershâd was in the possession of Aurangzeb and that the description of the chahâr bâgh might have influenced the construction of the Taj Mahal.133 The second important text, the Mafâtih al-arzâq (The Keys to Provisions), was written by the intendent (mostowfi) Mohammad Yusof Nuri in the Qajar period under Farhâd Mirzâ in Shiraz. It is a compilation from nearly a hundred sources in Arabic and Persian and treats of cultivated plants, horticulture, arboriculture and animals in agriculture and domestic economy. Besides, this Shi’ite encyclopedia contains information on taxes, accounting, irrigation, conservation of food, medical and occult proprieties of plants, religious calendar, poems, and proverbs.134

132 Storey, Persian Literature, II/3, p. 443 (no. 770); Asiatic Society of Bengal, Calcutta, MS D 254 (unicum). 133 Subtelny, Le monde est un jardin, p. 121. 134 Mohammad Yusof Nuri, Mafâtih al-arzâq yâ kelid dar ganjhâ-ye gowhar, ed. H. Sâ’edlu, with the collaboration of M. Qommi-Nejâd (3 vols., Tehran, 2002–4).

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7. Conclusion The great majority of Persian scientific texts were intended for a public interested in different sciences but lacking sufficient knowledge of Arabic. They were therefore usually commissioned by someone whose name might or might not appear in the text itself. This is true of translations, namely from Arabic, as well as of original works. The Persian texts are therefore closely linked to the context in which they were composed. The most important commissions usually came from royal courts, with the viziers playing a significant role, as witnessed among others in the mineralogical treatise discussed above, Javâher-nâme-ye Nezâmi, commissioned by a vizier of Khwârazmshâh Tekesh, containing a description of an original technique of fabrication of ceramics. When the ruler is directly implied in the research, he sponsors historical enterprises such as the revision of astronomical tables (zij), which was necessary to ameliorate the predictions: under Malekshâh with Omar Khayyâm, under Hulegu with Nasir-al-Din Tusi, and under Ulugh Beg with Ghiyâth-al-Din Jamshid Kâshi. Ulugh Beg himself had a fair knowledge of exact sciences. On the contrary, Hulegu didn’t seem to have been personally interested in this research and bestowed the observatory in Marâghe upon Nasir-al-Din Tusi as a gift for his help in the conquest of Baghdad and agreed to sponsor only twelve years of observations, not thirty as requested by Tusi, who wished to observe the complete revolution of Saturn.135 Zij‑e Ilkhâni and Zij‑e Ologh Beg were written in Persian. It is interesting to note that two major Persian texts of Tusi in the field of astronomy were written before the period of the Maragha observatory (1259): his first description of the planetary theory (Tusi Couple) in al-Mo’iniyye (1235), and in his Appendix Hall‑e moshkelât‑e Mo’iniyye, 1236) written for Mo’in-al-Din Shams, the son 135 G. Saliba, “Horoscopes and Planetary Theory of Astronomers : Ilkhanid Patronage,” in L. Komaroff, ed., Beyond the Legacy of Genghis Khan (Leiden, 2006), pp. 357–68; for the importance of the planetary theory, see idem, “Persian Scientists in the Islamic World: Astronomy from Maragha to Samarqand,” in R. G. Hovanissian and G. Sabagh, eds., The Persian Presence in the Islamic World (Cambridge, 1998), pp. 126–45.

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of the Ismaili ruler of Kohistan Nasir-al-Din Mohtasham, on the one hand: on the other hand, the translation from Arabic to Persian in 1250 of Ketâb sovar al-kavâkeb (The Book of the Constellations) by Abd-al-Rahmân Sufi, transmitted among others in a copy considered as Tusi’s autograph136 which was in Ulugh Beg’s library and was used for the redaction of the tables. In general, the two main areas of court patronage were astrology and medicine, as it appears also when reading Chahâr maqâle and Qâbus-nâme. Rulers also sponsored the translations or copies of important scientific texts in their entirety, texts which were often illustrated. In astronomy, the Arabic translation of Ptolemy’s catalog of stars, “The Book of Constellations” by Sufi, was translated into Persian several times and copied and illustrated in the court milieu. The same is true of Qazvini’s cosmography Ajâ’eb al-makhluqât. For astrology, the importance of various Persian illustrated copies of “degrees of the sky” must be mentioned. In the field of medicine, the original genre of anatomies in Persian, and the Persian translation of the medical plants by Dioscorides, are among the outstanding illustrated works. Throughout all periods, courts also sponsored texts on techniques of agriculture and irrigation, producing original works in Iran as well as in India. The non-Iranian dynasties undoubtedly favored direct redactions or adaptations in Persian. The last dynasty of the Khwârazmshâhs sponsored, for instance, the Persian works of Fakhr-al-Din Râzi, the mineralogical treatise Javâher-nâme-ye Nezâmi, the medical works of Esmâ’il Jorjâni, and the geographical treatise Jahân-nâme. The privileged forms of practicing science at the courts were sessions (majâles) and questions/answers. But the transmission of knowledge through family lineages, private circles of teaching and madrasas also developed an approach of its own. Amateurs, particularly those who commissioned the texts, designed as dedicatees, seem to have been of utmost importance, if we judge by the quality of Biruni’s Tafhim, composed for a Khwârazmian lady, Reyhâne 136 Nasir-al-Din Tusi, Tarjome-ye Sovar al-kavâkeb (Tehran, 1969; facsimile of a MS dated 647 h/1250 ad, Aya Sofya Library, Istanbul).

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Bent-al-Hasan, who probably lived in Ghazna, or by the exceptional illustrated copy of the Persian translation by Abd-al-Hâdi for Ghâzân Khân executed at Marâghe circa 1300 of Ebn-Bakhtishu’s Manâfe’ al-hayavân (Benefits of Animals) for a certain Shams-al-Din Zoshki.137 Science enriched general culture and was present on different levels of literature, such as its use as metaphors in poetry138 and “astrological romance.” Be it in prose or poetry, the latter is the romance based on astrological symbolism that is used in one way or another to convey a specific message such as, for example, Nezâmi’s Haft Peykar (The Seven Portraits) or the anonymous Noh Manzar (The Nine Belvederes).139 Scientific texts on various topics were also composed in verse in both Arabic and Persian, particularly in medicine and astrology. Examples in Persian include Meysari’s medical poem,140 which is by its early date (980) anterior to Orjuzâ fi’l-tebb (The Poem on Medicine) in Arabic of Avicenna; Khojandi’s general poem on astrology; and Tusi’s poem on “elections” (ekhtiyârât), Masir al-qamar (The Course of the Moon).141 Sufi’s “Book of the Constellations” appears to have been versified only in Arabic. The versification had mnemotechnic value but probably also allowed the general public to feel more familiar with scientific matters and could as such be presented as a gift at the court. Scientific vocabulary was present in literature, including in early dictionaries, and could also be represented under simultaneously versified and illustrated form, as in the twenty-ninth chapter of 137 For a page from this copy, see Z. Vesel et al., eds., Images, p. 218, illustration 183. 138 See for instance, A. F. Mosaffâ, Farhang‑e estelâhât‑e nojumi (Tehran, 2009); Ghaznavi, Seyr‑e akhtarân; A. L. F. A. Beelaert, A Cure for the Grieving: Studies on the Poetry of the 12th-Century Persian Court Poet Khāqāni Širwānī (Leiden, 2000), chap. 5, “Medical Imagery in the Description of the Seasons.” 139 F. Richard, Catalogue des manuscrits persans I: Ancien fonds (Paris, 1989), p. 372; see also Z. Vesel et al., eds., Images, pp. 160–61, illustration 115. 140 See n. 8. 141 Cf. ps.-Teucros, Tankelushâ, pp. 162–66 (Tusi) and pp. 168–212 (Khojandi).

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Badr-al-Din Jâjarmi’s anthologie Mu’nes al-ahrâr.142 Numerous apocryphal treatises in Persian include those of Avicenna where only Rag-shenâsi seems to be authentic; the only Persian prose treatise ascribed to Khayyâm, Nowruz-nâme, is apocryphal;143 as for several attributions to Nasir-al-Din Tusi, they still need to be studied. The biography of scholars, Tatemme Sevân al-hekme by Zahir-al-Din Beyhaqi [Ebn-Fondoq] (12 th century), was translated into Persian by Monshi Yazdi under the title of Dorrat al-akhbâr (Pearls of Information)144 in the beginning of the 14 th century. At the end of Dorrat, Monshi adds a “complement” (takmele) containing the entries on four authors: Shehâb-al-Din Sohravardi (al-maqtul),145 Fakhr-al-Din Râzi, Nasir-al-Din Tusi, and Rashid-al-Din Fazl-Allâh. Another example of scientific para-literature are two letters that Jamshid Kâshi wrote to his father when working at the Samarqand observatory. They include detailed descriptions of the instruments used, in addition to praise of Ulugh Beg’s scientific skill and the description of his own success at the observatory146. In conclusion, it can be said that nearly all scientific fields treated in Arabic have a counterpart, in one way or another, in Persian. Considering the fact that a great number of texts were lost throughout history, it can be surmised that this symmetry was even more complete than what is known today through extant texts and citations in early bibliographies. The originality of Persian texts, 142 See the contributions of S. Carboni and A. H. Morton in S. Carboni and T. M. Swietochowski, eds., Illustrated Poetry and Epic Images: Persian Painting of the 1330 s and 1340 s (New York, 1994). 143 F. de Blois, in PL, V/2, p. 359; it was alleged that Nowruz-nâme was written to revive the support for the Isfahan observatory, which ceased after Malekshâh’s death. 144 Nâser-al-Din Monshi Yazdi, Dorrat al-akhbâr va lama’ ât al-anvâr (Tehran, 1939), takmele, pp. 103–110. 145 Monshi Yazdi, Dorrat al-akhbâr, p. 103: qatîl in the Persian text. 146 Cf. E. S. Kennedy, “A Letter of Jamshīd al-Kāshī to His Father: Scientific Research and Personalities at a Fifteenth Century Court,” Orientalia, n. s. 29/2 (1960), pp. 191–213; M. Bagheri, “A Newly Found Letter of al-Kāshī on Scientific Life in Samarkand,” Historia Mathematica 24 (1997), pp. 241– 256; for the edition of Persian text of both letters, see M. Bâgheri, ed., Az Samarqand be Kâshân: nâme-hâ-ye Ghiyâth-al-Din Jamshid Kâshâni be pedar-ash (Tehran, 1996).

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when compared to those in Arabic, is not frequent, but when it does occur it reaches the same level of importance as the Arabic works. This importance can be of strictly scientific value as in the first versions in Persian by Tusi of his planetary model, the “Tusi Couple,” later presented in his Tadhkere fi elm al-hay’e (1261) in Arabic. Astronomical tables calculated at the Marâghe and Samarqand observatories were first written in Persian and then translated into Arabic, Turkish, and Latin, and the latter also in Sanskrit. In the field of medicine, the original contributions have started to be investigated for Iran147 as well as for India,148 and this should progressively be done for all scientific fields. On the other hand, the original illustrations that are not found in Arabic texts, such as the medical anatomies of Ebn-Elyâs and the degrees in astrological literature, bring an important complement to the existing Arabic works. Several authors wrote in Arabic as well as in Persian, and their Persian works can provide additional material on some precise points in their Arabic work. When authors write exclusively in Persian they nevertheless know Arabic and constantly update their knowledge. Also Persian translations of Arabic works supplement the original text when it is partly or integrally lost. Finally, Persian as a language of science served in particular contexts through Iranian history for translation of Chinese sciences in the Ilkhanid period, and Indian sciences from Sanskrit texts in the framework of Mughal India. The introductions in Persian scientific texts, some of which have literary value and are pleasant to read, often contain information on the context of the work and historical anecdotes. Sometimes the Persian texts can also be of great help in our understanding of the way scientific activities were perceived by the rulers. In the 147 See in particular the publications of Bertrand Thierry de Crussol des Epesse: for example, Discours sur l’oeil d’Esmāʿīl Gorgānī (Tehran, 1998); La Psychiatrie médiévale persane: la maladie mentale dans la tradition medicale persane (Paris, 2010). 148 See the publications of Fabrizio Speziale: for example, Soufisme, religion et médecine en Islam indien (Paris, 2010); see also the website “Perso-Indica: An Analytical Survey of Persian Works on Indian Learned Traditions,” www.perso-indica.net.

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introduction to an apocryphal work of Avicenna, Qorâze-ye tabi’iyyât (Fragmentary pieces of Physics) written in 1121,149 a series of questions and answers on problemata physica, the author says: emirs and kings strive to capture cities and conquer countries… and obtain treasures… but the great emir [i. e., the dedicatee] has besides this aim a higher one: he desires to obtain sciences of all sorts in the world …and apply his judgment to choose the best of them…thus he obtains happiness in both worlds.150

In spite of the variety of writings mentioned above, we have relatively little historical information on science in Iran. In this regard, the scientific texts themselves, Arabic and Persian, are important sources of information on the perennial interest in science in the Iranian world. This permanence is attested, at least, by the continuous copying of the major scientific reference texts till the 19 th century. As for the larger spectrum of scientific activities that required material support, they depended throughout Iranian history on the fluctuations of political events.

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PERSIAN PROSE ­—. “Le livre de science de Meisari.” In idem, Les premiers poètes persans, 2 vols., Paris and Tehran, 1964, I, pp. 36–40 and 163–80 (French translation), II, pp. 178–94 (Persian text). Lentz, T. W. and G. D. Lowry Timur and the Princely Vision. Washington and Los Angeles, 1989. Majmuʿe-ye falsafi-ye Marâghe / A Philosophical Anthology from Maragha. Ed. N. Pourjavady. Tehran, 2002. Manṣur b. Moḥammad b. Aḥmad Shirâzi. Tashrîḥ‑e badan‑e ensân maʿruf be Tashriḥ‑e Manṣuri. Ed. Ḥosayn Borqaʿi. Tehran, 2004. Masʿudi Bokhâri, Sharaf-al-Din. Majmaʿ al-aḥkâm. Ed. ʿAli Ḥasuri Tehran, 2000. Matvievskaya, G. P. and B. A. Rozenfel’d. Matematiki i astronomy musul’manskogo srednevekov’ya i ich trudy (VIII–XVII vv). 3 vols. Moscow, 1983. Mehren, A. F. “Vues d’Avicenne sur l’astrologie.” Le Museon 3 (1884), pp. 383–403. Melville, Ch. “Ḥamd-Allāh Mostawfi.” In EIr, XI, pp. 631–64. Meysari, Ḥakim. Dânesh-nâme dar ʿelm‑e pezeshki. Ed. Barât Zanjâni. Tehran, 1987. Mohebbi, Parviz. Techniques et ressources en Iran du 7e au 19e siècle. Tehran, 1996. Monshi, ʿAli b. Yusof b. ʿAli. Lobb al ḥesâb. Facs. ed. with introd. by J. Shirâzyân. Tehran, 1989 (facsimile of a unicum MS of the 6 th /12 th century, Central Library of the University of Tehran). Monshi Yazdi, Nâṣer-al-Din. Dorrat al-akhbâr va lamaʿ ât al-anvâr. Tehran, 1939. Monzavi, Aḥmad. Fehrestvâre ketâbhâ-ye fârsi / Catalogue of Persian Manuscripts in Several Libraries. Tehran, 2001. Moṣaffâʾ, A. F. Farhang‑e eṣṭelâḥât‑e nojumi. Tehran, 1987. Mostowfi Qazvini, Ḥamd-Allâh. Nozhat al-qolub. Ed. G. Le Strange as The Geographical Part of the Nuzhat al-qulūb Composed by Hamd-Allah Mustawfī of Qazwīn in 740 (1340). Leiden and London, 1915. Nasavi, Abu’l-Ḥasan ʿAli b. Aḥmad. Bâz-nâme. Ed. A. Gharavi. Tehran, 1975. Newman, Andrew. “Anatomy.” In Z. Vesel et al., eds., Images of Islamic Science, Tehran, 2009, pp. 232–35. Neyshâburi, Moḥammad b. Abi’l-Barakât Jowhari. Javâher-nâme-ye Neẓâmi. Ed. I. Afshâr. Tehran, 2004. Niazi, Kaveh. Qutb al-Dīn Shīrāzī and the Configuration of the Heavens: A Comparison of Texts and Models. Dordrecht, 2013.

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Science in Persian Nuri, Moḥammad Yusof. Mafâtiḥ al-arzâq yâ kelid dar ganjhâ-ye gowhar. Ed. H. Sâʿedlu, with the collab. of M. Qommi-Nejâd. 3 vols. Tehran, 2002–3. Osmanlı Coḡrafya Literatürü Tarihi. Vol. I. Istanbul, 2000. Panaino, Antonio. “Sasanian Astronomy and Astrology in the Contribution of David Pingree,” in G. Gnoli and A. Panaino, eds., Kayd: Studies in the History of Mathematics, Astronomy and Astrology in Memory of David Pingree, Rome, 2009, pp. 73–103. “Perso-Indica: An Analytical Survey of Persian Works on Indian Learned Traditions.” www.perso-indica.net. Pingree, David. “Asfezārī.” In EIr, II, pp. 748–49. ­—. From Astral Omens to Astrology. Rome, 1997. ­—. The Thousands of Abu Ma‘shar. London, 1968. Porter, Yves. “Le quatrième chapitre du Javāher-nāme-ye Neẓāmī.” In N. Pourjavady and Z. Vesel, eds., Sciences, techniques et instruments dans le monde iranien (Xe –XIXe s.). Tehran, 2004, pp. 341–60. Qattân Marvazi, Ḥasan b. ʿAli. Geyhân-shenâkht. Introd. by M. Marʿashi. Qom, 2000 (facsimile of a MS dated 586 Q, Mar’ashi Library). Qommi, Abu-Naṣr Ḥasan b. ʿAli. Tarjome al-Madkhal elâ ʿelm‑e aḥkâm al-nojum. Ed. J. Akhavân Zanjâni. Tehran, 1996. Radtke, Bernd. “Die älteste islamische Kosmographie: Muḥammad-i Ṭūsī’s ʿAğâʾ ib al-maḫlūqāt.” Der Islam 64 (1987), pp. 278–288. ­—. Weltgeschichte und Weltbeschreibung im mittelalterischen Islam. Beirut and Stuttgart, 1992. Ragep, F. J. Naṣīr al-Dīn al-Ṭūsī’s Memoir on Astronomy (al-Tadhkira fī ʿ ilm al-hayʾa). 2 vols. New York, 1993. Rahman, Abdur. Science and Technology in Medieval India: A Bibliography of Source Materials in Sanskrit, Arabic and Persian. New Delhi, 1982. Rashed, Roshdi, ed. Encyclopedia of the History of Arabic Science. 3 vols. London, 1996. Rashid-al-Din Faẓl-Allâh Hamadâni. Âthâr va ehyâʾ. Eds. M. Sotude and I. Afshâr. Tehran, 1989. ­—. Tansuq-nâme yâ ṭebb‑e ahl‑e Khetâ. Facs. ed. with introd. by M. Minovi. Tehran, 1972 (facsimile of the MS dated 713 Q). Râzi, Fakhr-al-Din. Jâmeʿ al-ʿolum (Settini). Ed. S. A. Âl‑e Dâvud. Tehran, 2009. Richard, Francis. Catalogue des manuscrits persans I: Ancien Fonds. Paris, 1989. Richter-Bernburg, Lutz. “Abū Mansūr.” In EIr, I, pp. 336–37.

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PERSIAN PROSE ­—. “Linguistic Shuʿūbīya and Early Neo-Persian Prose.” JRAS 94 (1974), pp. 55–64. Rieu, Ch. Supplement to the Catalogue of the Persian Manuscripts in the British Museum. London, 1895. Sadek, M. M. The Arabic Materia Medica of Dioscorides. St-Jean Chrysostome, Quebec, 1983. Saliba, George. “Horoscopes and Planetary Theory of Astronomers: Il­ khanid Patronage.” In L. Komaroff, ed., Beyond the Legacy of G ­ enghis Khan, Leiden, 2006, pp. 357–368. ­—. “Persian Scientists in the Islamic World: Astronomy from Maragha to Samarqand.” In R. G. Hovanissian and G. Sabagh, eds., The Persian Presence in the Islamic World, Cambridge, 1998, pp. 126–45. Schmitz, B. and Z. A. Desai. Mughal and Persian Paintings and Illustrated Manuscripts in the Raza Library, Rampur. New Delhi, 2006. Shah, Mazhar H. The General Principles of Avicenna’s Canon of Medicine. Karachi, 1966. Shahbazi, A. Sh. “Haft kešvar.” In EIr, XI, pp. 519–22. Shahmardân b. Abi-l-Kheyr. Nozhat-nâme-ye ʿAlâʾ i. Ed. F. Jahânpur. Tehran, 1983. ­—. Rowżat al-monajjemin. Ed. J. Akhavân Zanjâni. Tehran, 2003. Shirâzi, Qotb-al-Din. Dorrat al-tâj le-ghorrat al-debbâj. Ed. M. Meshkât. 2 vols. Tehran, 1938–41. Speziale, Fabrizio. Soufisme, religion et médecine en Islam indien. Paris, 2010. Stephenson, John. The Zoological Section of the Nuzhatu-l-Qulūb of Ḥamdullāh al-Mustaufi al-Qazwīnī. London, 1928. Storey, C. A. PL, II/1, II/2, II/3. Subtelny, M. E. Le monde est un jardin : aspects de l’histoire culturelle de l’Iran médiéval. Paris, 2002. Ṭabari, Moḥammad b. Ayyûb. Ma‘refât‑e ostorlâb ma‘rûf be Shesh fasl be żamime-ye ʿAmal va alqâb. Ed. Moḥammad-Amin Riyâḥi. Tehran 1993. [ps.-Teucros], Tangelushâ yâ sovar‑e daraj. Ed. R. Homâyunfarrokh. Teh­ran, 1978. ­—. Tanklushâ az moʾallef‑e nâshenâkhte be żamime-ye Madkhal‑e manẓum az ‘Abd al-Jabbâr Khojandi (sorude be sâl‑e 616 h. q.). Ed. Reżâzâde Malek. Tehran, 2004. Thierry de Crussol des Epesse, Bertrand. Discours sur l’oeil d’Esmāʿīl Gorgānī. Tehran, 1998. ­—. “Ismâ’il Gurgânî.” In Z. Vesel et al., eds., Images of Islamic Science, Tehran, 2009, p. 231.

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Science in Persian ­—. “The Medical System of Later Galenism in Medieval Iran.” In Z. Vesel et al., eds., Images of Islamic Science, Tehran, 2009, p. 229. ­—. La Psychiatrie médiévale persane: la maladie mentale dans la tradition médicale persane. Paris 2010. Tourkin, Sergei. ”Astrological Images in Two Persian Manuscripts.” In N. Allan, ed., Pearls of the Orient: Asian Treasures from the Wellcome Library, London and Chicago, 2003, pp. 73–86. Ṭusi, Moḥammad b. Maḥmud b Aḥmad. ʿAjâyeb al-makhluqât. Ed. M. Sotude. Tehran, 1966. ­—. ʿAjâyeb-nâme. Ed. J. M. Ṣâdeqi. Tehran, 1996. Ṭusi, Khwâje Naṣir-al-Din. Sharḥ‑e Thamare-ye Batlamyus. ed. J. Akhavân Zanjâni. Tehran, 1999. ­—. Tansuq-nâme-ye Ilkhâni. Ed. Modarres Rażavi. Tehran, 1969. ­—. Tarjome-ye Ṣovar al-kavâkeb. Tehran, 1969 (facsimile of the MS dated 647/1250, Aya Sofya Library, Istanbul). Ullmann, Manfred Die Natur- und Geheimwissenschaften im Islam. Leiden, 1972. Vesel, Ziva. “Les encyclopédies persanes: culture scientifique en langue vernaculaire.” In C. de Callataÿ and B. van den Abeele, eds., Une lumière venue d’ailleurs : Héritages et ouvertures dans les encyclopédies d’Orient et d’Occident au Moyen Age, Turnhout, 2009, pp. 49–89. Vesel, Z., S. Tourkin, and Y. Porter, eds., with the collaboration of F. Richard and F. Ghasemloo. Images of Islamic Science: Illustrated Manuscripts from the Iranian World. Tehran, 2009.

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CHAPTER 5 CALLIGRAPHY Francis Richard Calligraphy is one of the most prestigious arts in the Iranian world, receiving its high status in the context of the production of manuscripts of the Qur’an as well as other books or in other arts belonging to the field of epigraphy.1 In order to master the art of calligraphy, a period of study with a master of the art is a prerequisite of a craft that is both an art and a science and has therefore its own precise and complex rules. To write is an art but also a science. A number of brief manuals intended for the teaching of calligraphy have come down to us, often couched in a simple style. Other treatises aim to establish the rules of this rich “science of letters” or have a literary or esoteric aim of their own. Whether in prose or in verse, the works concerned with other particular aspects of the arts of the book are also noteworthy. As examples one could mention the Jowhariyye (Essences) of Simi Neyshâburi about inks, the poem Golzâr‑e safâ (The Rose Garden of Purity) of Abd-Allâh Seyrafi on the production of colors, or the very interesting Qânun al-sovar (The Canon of Forms) of Sâdeqi Beyg Afshâr, a treatise on painting by one of the members of the royal atelier of the Safavids before the accession of Shah Abbâs I. Although at times difficult to interpret, these texts often offer invaluable pieces of information. Certain famous calligraphers, often among who introduced reforms in the practices of writing, composed treatises on the art of writing. The oldest example of this type of treatises in Persian literature is the chapter on writing in Râhat al-sodur (Solace of the 1

Sheila S. Blair, Islamic Calligraphy (Edinburgh, 2006).

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Hearts) of Mohammad b. Ali b. Soleymân Râvandi, composed around 1204–5 and dedicated to Key Khosrow, sultan of Rum. In this work, calligraphy is described and analyzed as a veritable science, according to which the modules of the letters, their drawing and their use follow very precise rules. Later, after the death of one of the great reformers of calligraphy the Arab Ebn-Moqle (died c. 940), Yâqut Mosta’semi (died around 1297), a theorist as well as a master of calligraphy who mostly wrote in Ara­bic, was to influence the whole Iranian world—although we don’t know of any treatise that could be attributed to him. On the other hand, some years after the disappearance in 1394 of Fazl-Allâh Astarâbâdi, the founder of Hurufism, a doctrine that gave letters a religious value, we can note the composition of a prose work of great importance that resumes certain elements of treatises written in Ara­bic in Mamluk Egypt. This work, the Tohfat al-mohebbin (The Gift of the Lovers) is characterized by great originality and shows the strong influence of Sufism. It was written in an elegantly poetic style by Ya’qub b. Hasan Serâj-Shirâzi, a calligrapher in Shiraz, who was active in the service of Sultan Ebrâhim before he left for the Deccan, where he edited his book in 1454 at the court of the sultan of Bidar.2 The Tohfat al-mohebbin is the second Persian treatise on calligraphy. The author is clearly placing himself in a Sufi milieu, and, without neglecting the description of techniques, he emphasizes quite strongly the aesthetic and spiritual aspects of the art of writing. Writing in Bidar for Amirzâde Mohebb-Allâh, a descendant of Ne’mat-Allâh, he himself belongs to the mystical lineage of Ruzbehân Baqli of Shiraz. His style bears the mark of the treatises of his mystical masters, but at the same time his work is a veritable encyclopedia of the art of writing, the most noble of all. He was well acquainted with the Ara­bic tracts, especially that of Ahmad b. Ali Qalqashandi (d. 1418). His work is interspersed with numerous quotations in Ara­bic; he also includes plentiful poetic quotations, 2

Ya’qub b. Hasan Serâj-Shirâzi, Tohfat al-mohebbin, ed. Mohammad-Taqi Dâneshpazhuh with K. Ra’nâ-Hoseyni and Iraj Afshar (Tehran, 1997). See also Carl W. Ernst, “Sirāj al-Shīrāzī’s Tuḥfat al-Muḥibbīn (1454),” JAOS 129 (2009), pp. 431–42.

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in Ara­bic as well as Persian. He very often quotes verses by Qâsem Anvâr and Hâfez, thereby underlining his links with the literary milieu of Shiraz, his own home-town. Besides this omnipresent mystical vision of the world and his references to previous authorities such as Ebn-Moqle, one should also note the stylistic virtuosity of Serâj, an author of immense erudition, who attests to the close links between calligraphy and esoteric speculation. However, in spite of its scientific and literary importance, his work seems to have had few successors. Of quite a different character is the most celebrated of the Persian treatises on calligraphy, the Golestân‑e honar (The Rose Garden of Art) by Qâdi Mir Ahmad Monshi Qomi edited around 16063 (translated into English by Vladimir Minorsky4; edited in Persian, by Ahmad Soheyli Khwânsâri5). In this elegantly composed work, in lieu of a theory of calligraphy, we find a history of the generations of calligraphers who had practiced the various styles of writing, particularly since the beginning of the Timurid era, and not a theory of calligraphy. Furthermore, in his monumental work on Persian texts dedicated to the arts of the book, Ketâb-ârâyi dar tamaddon‑e Eslâmi: majmu’e-ye rasâ’el dar zamine-ye khôshnevisi, morakkab-sâzi, kâghaz-geri, tadhhib, va tajlid; be-enzemâm‑e farhang‑e vâzhegân‑e nezâm‑e ketâb-ârâyi (The Adorned Book in Islamic Culture: a collection of treatises in the field of calligraphy, production of ink, paper-making, gilding. and book-binding, together with a dictionary of terms belonging to the adornment of books),6 Najib Mâyel-Haravi has published numerous small treatises in verse as well as prose. Among these, one may call attention to the short poem Serât al-sodur (The Road of Hearts) by Soltân-Ali Mashhadi, dating from 920/1514, of which there are many copies, and where this celebrated calligrapher and prominent leader of the school of nasta’liq in Khorasan in the end of his life summarizes 3 4 5 6

See also Yves Porter, “Notes sur le ‘Golestân‑e Honar’ de Qâzi Ahmad Qomi,” Studia Iranica 17/2 (1988), pp. 207–23. Calligraphers and Painters: A Treatise, Washington, D. C., 1959. Tehran, 1973. Mashhad, 1993.

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all the stages of the art of writing. Another celebrated calligrapher, Mir-Ali Haravi, composed a prose treatise (resâle) in five chapters on the rules and laws of this art. In the same epoch Fath-Allâh Sabzavâri in his Osul va qavâ’ed‑e khotut‑e sette (Principles and Rules of the Six Styles of Writing), conserved in a unique copy from 930/1523, also laid down the fundaments of the delineations of letters in the six styles. Other authors, like Bâbâ-Shâh Esfahâni, in the end of the 16 th century, or Majnun Rafiqi-Haravi, in the beginning of the same century, in their turn exposed, in prose, the ensemble of the rules of calligraphy by following closely the writings of their predecessors. Majnun Rafiqi-Haravi also composed a long poem on these rules under the title of Âdâb al-mashq (Norms of Writing Exercises). Some “prefaces” (dibâche) intended to be placed at the beginning of albums comprising collections of calligraphy and painting, like those famously edited by Dust Mohammad already in the 16 th century, are veritable treatises on calligraphy and the arts of the book and constitute true literary works with regard to the quality of their style.7 The 16 th century seems to have been the golden age of this type of literature. From the middle of this century dates another treatise in prose, namely the Qavânin‑e khotut (Canons of the Styles of Writing) of Mahmud b. Mohammad, an author about whom we only know that he was familiar with the calligraphers of Khorasan. Another name that may be mentioned is that of Mohammad Bokhâri, author of a quite extensive work in prose mixed with verse entitled Favâ’ed‑e khotut (The Advantages of the Styles of Writing) which he composed in 995/1587 in Bukhara at the age of nineteen. The Favâ’ed‑e khotut became a great success and saw a wide diffusion in Transoxiana. At a later stage many other titles could be added to this short list, particularly treatises like those of Mirzâ Fath-Ali b. Mirzâ Mohammad-Taqi Âkhundzâde, also known as Akhundov (1812–78), 7

See W. M. Thackston, “Preface of the Bahram Mirza Album,” in idem, ed. and tr., A Century of Princes: Sources on Timurid History of Art, Cambridge, Mass., 1989, pp. 335–49.

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in which he, around 1857, proposed a radical reform of the alphabet,8 as opposed to works that reiterated the classical rules. The technical character of the latter prevented them from enjoying a wide circulation—in contrast to the success that met the Golestân‑e honar, in which the aridity of the treatise may be forgiven thanks to a series of biographies nurtured by very vivid anecdotes.

Bibliography Âkhundzâde, Mirzâ Fatḥ-ʿAli. Alefbâ-ye jadid barâ-ye taḥrirât‑e alsene-ye Eslâmiyye ke ʿebârat az ʿArabi va Fârsi va Torki. MS Paris, Bibliothèque universitaire des langues et civilisations, MS Persan no. 133. Blair, Sheila S. Islamic Calligraphy. Edinburgh, 2006. Ernst, Carl W. “Sirāj al-Shīrāzī’s Tuḥfat al-Muḥibbīn (1454).” JAOS 129 (2009), pp. 431–42. Mâyel-Haravi, Najib. Ketâb-ârâyi dar tamaddon‑e eslâmi: majmuʿe-ye rasâʾel dar zamine-ye khôshnevisi, morakkab-sâzi, kâghaz-geri, tadhhib, va tajlid; be-enzemâm‑e farhang‑e vâzhegân‑e neẓâm‑e ketâbârâyi. Mashhad, 1993. Porter, Yves. “Notes sur le ‘Golestân‑e Honar’ de Qâzi Ahmad Qomi.” Studia Iranica 17/2 (1988), pp. 207–23. Qomi, Qâżi Mir Aḥmad Monshi. Golestân‑e honar. Ed. Aḥmad Soheyli Khwânsâri. Tehran 1973. Tr. V. Minorsky as Calligraphers and Painters: A Treatise, Washington, D. C., 1959. Serâj-Shirâzi, Ya’qub b. Hasan. Toḥfat al-moḥebbin. Ed. Moḥammad-Taqi Dâneshpazhuh with K. Ra’nâ-Ḥoseyni and Iraj Afshâr. Tehran, 1997. Thackston, W. M., “Preface of the Bahram Mirza Album.” In idem, ed. and tr., A Century of Princes: Sources on Timurid History of Art, Cambridge, Mass., 1989, pp. 335–49.

8

For instance, the manuscript MS persan 133 of the Bibliothèque universitaire des langues et civilisations (Paris), which is an autograph entitled Alefbâ‑ye jadid barâ-ye taḥrirât‑e alsene-ye Eslâmiyye ke ebârat az Arabi va Fârsi va Torki, a dispatch to the French government.

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CHAPTER 6 CONSIDERATIONS ON LITERARY ASPECTS OF PERSIAN HISTORIOGRAPHY Bert Fragner

1. Historiography, Narration, and Literature From the perspective of Iranian critics and commentators in the 20 th century, texts of historiographical writing, i. e. mainly chronicles, were in many cases at least as clearly perceived as something like belles-lettres as they were taken as sources for historical research in a narrower sense. We owe this point-of-view above all to the major contribution to our knowledge of developments in early modern Persian literature to Mohammad-Taqi Bahâr Malekal-Sho’arâ (1886–1951) and his extensive study, Sabk-shenâsi yâ târikh‑e tatavvor‑e nathr‑e Fârsi (Stylistics or the history of the evolution of Persian prose),1 stressing the importance of historical writing in the context of Persian prose literature in general. One should note that even before Bahâr some scholars had also tended to evaluate chronicles as literary productions. In the Grundriss der Iranischen Philologie, Carl Hermann Ethé (1844–1917) provided an excellent overview of tadhkere texts (short biographies and sample verses of poets) as sources for a history of Persian literature (mainly poetry), but chronicles were not systematically included.2 Edward 1 2

M.-T. Bahâr, Sabk-shenâsi yâ târikh-e tatavvor-e nathr-e Fârsi (3 vols., Tehran, 1942). Herrmann Ethé, “Neupersische Literatur,” in W. Geiger and E. Kuhn, eds., Grundriss der Iranischen Philologie (2 vols., Strassburg, 1896–1904), I, pp. 212–368.

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Granville Browne (1862–1926) broadened his monumental study of literary history to include not only poetry and belles-lettres but also historical writing.3 Until recently, from the point of view of Western scholars, this perspective remained problematic. While Iranian literati (odabâ) appeared reluctant to separate history too neatly from literary criticism, western Orientalists, following positivist traditions dating back to the 19 th century, conceived of these types of text as belonging to strictly different methodological and scholarly spheres. But there are also examples of a more open perspective regarding this genre-orientated debate. In his classic History of Iranian Literature,4 Jan Rypka (1886–1968) chose a middle way. He refers repeatedly to various chronicles particularly in order to discuss the stylistic development of Persian prose, though he does not address the problems of content and concepts within the field of Persian chronicles and other species of historical writing. Later, a fresh look at the current debate concerning literary genres is to be found in Bo Utas, “‘Genres’ in Persian Literature 900–1900.”5 In the past three or four decades, there has been a growing tendency to apply various aspects of “New Historicism” to the study of pre-modern Persian historical writing. “New Historicism” shares some affinities with an earlier development in literary studies, the so-called “New (Literary) Criticism”: i. e., the kind of literary criticism first instigated by I. A. Richards (1893–1979) that became popular in the 1960 s. It focused on a close analysis of literary texts, with some similarities to the French explication de texte, concentrating on selected passages from a text as a window into its overall understanding and avoiding a biographical approach. On the other hand, it could be said that the “New Historicism,” which began in late 1970 s and early 1980 s, brought a new historical dimension: striving for an abiding marriage between departments of literature and 3 4 5

Edward Granville Browne, LHP. Jan Rypka, Dĕjiny perské a tadžikské literatury (Prague 1956); Iranische Literatur­geschichte (Leipzig, 1959); HIL. Bo Utas, “‘Genres’ in Persian Literature 900–1900,” in Gunilla Lindberg-Wada, ed., Literary History: Towards a Global Perspective II: Literary Genres: An Intercultural Approach (Berlin, 2006), pp. 199–241.

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history. In this context and in the specific case of Persian historical writing—chronicles in particular—we are deeply indebted to the work of two scholars: Marilyn Robinson Waldman (1943–96)6 and Julie Scott Meisami.7 Within Iran, later scholars followed Bahâr’s line, which was generally interpreted in the sense that chronicles could be evaluated as literary productions, as well as sifted through for factual historical details.8 Specialists in literature should treat them as literature, and historians should cite them as sources. With the turmoil of post-modernism, this double perspective lost ground to a more subtle fusion. Marilyn Waldman was one of the first to apply methods borrowed from “New Historicism,” including a literary approach, rather than from conventional concepts of history proper. She is quite explicit about her borrowed methodology in her earlier chapters, including using the Speech Act Theory of J. L. Austen (1911–1960) as adopted by Mary Louise Pratt.9 She analyzed Abu’l-Fazl Beyhaqi’s famous historical narrative (1030– 41) in depth, offering new insights. Implicitly, she followed general tendencies that had been presented by, among others, the historian Hayden White (1928–2018) in his seminal text Tropics of Discourse: Essays in Cultural Criticism,10 together with other of his writings.   6 Marilyn Robinson Waldman, Toward a Theory of Historical Narrative: A Case-Study in Perso-Islamicate Historiography (Columbus, Ohio, 1980).   7 Julie Scott Meisami. “Rulers and the Writers of History,” in Beatrice Gruendler and Louise Marlow, eds., Writers and Rulers: Perspectives on their Relationship from Abbasid to Safavid Times (Wiesbaden, 2004), pp. 73–95; Julie Scott Meisami, “History as Literature,” IrSt 33 (2000), pp. 15–30. See also the bibliography.   8 The locus classicus concerning Iranian scholars and specialists in Persian literature is Dhabih-Allâh Safâ, TADI.   9 Mary Louise Pratt, Towards a Speech Act Theory of Literary Discourse, Bloomington, 1977. For a discussion of Waldman’s use of Speech Act Theory, see also Peter Hardy’s review in History and Theory 20/3 (Oct., 1981), pp. 334–44. 10 Baltimore, 1978. Compare the well-chosen title of the German translation of Hayden White’s Tropics of Discourse: Reinhart Koselleck, tr., Auch Klio dichtet oder die Fiktion des Faktischen (Stuttgart, 1986). See also the exchanges between Marilyn Waldman, “The Otherwise Un-noteworthy Year 711: A Reply to Hayden White,” Critical Inquiry 7/4 (Summer, 1981), pp. 784–92, and Hayden White, “The Narrativization of Real Events Author(s),” Critical Inquiry 7/4 (Summer, 1981), pp. 793–98.

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Julie Scott Meisami also successfully introduced Hayden White’s concepts into the field of Iranian (and Islamic) historical studies.11 Waldman and Meisami shared some goals in common: For example, they insisted strongly on the necessity to reconstruct patronage relations between a given chronicle’s author and his patrons. To uphold this view, they found it important to trace all the laudatory passages and references by the author to his patron. Analyzing Beyhaqi’s chronicle, Marilyn Waldman had tried to interpret scrupulously the various ways events were presented to the readers in the context of the relationship between the writer and the patron. Meisami transferred this concept to a far wider selection of chronicles written before the Mongol invasion. She was able to cull information from a fascinatingly broad study by Sa’id Nafisi (1895–1966), who had amassed a great deal of detailed information, including additional texts and fragments of texts, which he brought together under the title Dar pirâmun‑e târikh‑e Beyhaqi (Around the Târikh‑e Beyhaqi).12 It should also be noted that both Waldman and Meisami had in the historian Kenneth Allin Luther (1934–1996) an important forerunner in the field of opening literary perspectives on Persian chronicle writing.13 He was one of the first scholars to introduce literary aspects of analysis in order to deepen and enrich the historian’s interpretation of Persian historiographical texts; this approach helped him, for example, to differentiate Rashid-al-Din’s adaption of Zahir-al-Din’s Saljuq-nâme from the original Saljuq text through stylistic analysis. These were pioneering attempts to retrieve comprehensive information a historical narrative text by means of implementing concepts, skills and methods imported from literary criticism. Hitherto, among historians, the reliability of narrative texts was 11 Julie Scott Meisami, Persian Historiography: To the End of the Twelfth Century (Edinburgh, 1999.) 12 Sa’id Nafisi, Dar pirâmun‑e Târikh‑e Beyhaqi (2 vols., Tehran, 1964). 13 Kenneth Allin Luther, “Islamic Rhetoric and the Persian Historians, 1000– 1300,” in James Bellamy, ed., Studies in Near Eastern Culture and History in Memory of Ernest T. Abdel-Massih (Ann Arbor, 1990), pp. 90–98; K. A. Luther, tr., and C. Edmund Bosworth, ed., The History of the Seljuq Turks: From the Jāmi al-Tawārīkh, an Ilkhanid Adaptation of the Saljūq-nāma of Ẓahīr al-Dīn Nīshāpūrī. (Richmond, U. K., 2001).

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almost exclusively proven by detailed philological comparison and text critique. Waldman was among the first who tried to apply “textology” to Persian chronicles—in accordance with the mainstream methodology of the 1960 s and 1970 s, when the claim for “immanent interpretation” of texts was raised vociferously on the broader fields of literary criticism. In the title of her monograph, Waldman made use of the term “Islamicate”—a neologism coined by an eminent historian of the Islamic world, Marshall G. Hodgson (1922–68), a pioneer in the study of the concept of “universal history,” an early forerunner of what in later days is widely referred to as “global history.”14 Compared to the medieval chroniclers of Western and Central Europe, the “Islamicate” author of an historical text (a chronicle) was less hidebound to a general world-view that he had to express and to follow in his texts. Instead, he was more dependent on his patron, i. e. the person who took care of the material welfare of the writer, and possibly of his family. Julie Scott Meisami expanded the quantitative scope of this approach. She enlarged Waldman’s concept and applied it to early Islamic Persian historiography in toto, from early times up to the end of the 12 th century. In retrospect, Waldman and Meisami’s approach, though essentially valid, needs to be qualified. Surveying the development of (New-)Persian historical writing there seem to be many more factors involved than that of individual dependence of the author’s fate on a patron’s will and inclinations. Anja Pistor-Hatam has recently published a work offering new perspectives on aspects of Persian historiography: Studying simultaneously traditional chronicle writing in the light of contemporary historical research.15 At present this study seems to contain (among other themes) a thorough 14

Marshall G. S. Hodgson. The Venture of Islam: Conscience and History in a World Civilization (3 vols., Chicago and London, 1974). 15 Anja Pistor-Hatam, Geschichtsschreibung und Sinngeschichte in Iran: Historische Erzählungen von mongolischer Eroberung und Herrschaft, 1933– 2011 (Leiden and Boston, 2014). For another perceptive historical analysis on an earlier period and its later reinterpretations and reverberations throughout Iranian history, see Neguin Yavari, The Future of Iran’s Past: Nizam al-Mulk Remembered (Oxford, 2018).

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theoretical investigation in the field of Persian chronicle writing in the Mongol period. In an extensive preliminary chapter, she discusses in detail the existing literature on theoretical approaches to Persian chronicles from pre-modern times, including a wide range of considerations concerning theories of general history as they have been developed mainly by German historians during the last twenty or thirty years. Going further beyond this goal, she analyses at length and in depth aspects of contemporary reception of historical sources by recent Iranian historians mainly under the aspect of nationalist interpretation of Iranian history. In the late sixties of the 20 th century, Bertold Spuler (1911–1990) published a contribution to a volume in the series Handbuch der Orientalistik explicitly treating Persian historical writing.16 Like many scholars of his generation, he was inclined to see Persian chronicles as dependent on Ara­bic chronicle writing or, at least, as a category of writing which was mainly shaped in the traditions of Ara­bic models. This “Arabo-centric” tendency is even more evident in Bernard Lewis and P. M. Holt’s edited volume, Historians of the Middle East (Oxford, 1962), as well as in the earlier case of Jean Sauvaget’s (1901–50) Introduction à l’histoire de l’Orient musulman (Paris, 1943).17 Sauvaget does not even recognize historiographical texts written in Persian as constituting a genre of its own. On closer inspection, this hypothesis can no longer be maintained. It should be mentioned that Stephen R. Humphreys (Islamic History: A Framework for Inquiry, rev. ed. Princeton, 1991) attempted to counter this tendency through its extended essays illustrating differences between Persian and Ara­bic historiography. These differences were, to some extent, implicitly acknowledged in an earlier work on stylistics and history: In his Sabk-shenâsi, Bahâr discusses some local chronicles, examining their syntax and vocabulary as early specimens of narrative prose-writing. For 16 Bertold Spuler, “Die historisch und geographische Literatur in persischer Sprache,” in HdO, Abt. 1, Bd. IV: Iranistik, Abschn. 2: Literatur (Leiden and Cologne, 1968), pp. 100–167. 17 There is an English version, updated by Claude Cahen, Introduction to the History of the Muslim East: A Bibliographical Guide (Berkeley and Los Angeles, 1965).

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example, he devotes extensive sections to the Târikh-e Sistân (History of Sistân)18 and to the Mojmal al-tavârikh va’l-qesas (Compendium of Histories and Stories).19 It is clear that in the latter title the words tavârikh (pl. of târikh, here referring to recorded historical events) and qesas (pl. of qesse, “story” or “tale”) are employed in semantic contradistinction. As well as constituting important specimens of early New Persian historiographical writing, these texts have something of a “pre-classic” appearance in comparison with later historiographical texts. At this point, it may be apt to explain why local histories (i. e. histories of cities etc.) have on the whole been excluded from this essay: It may be helpful to differentiate between “local” histories in the narrow sense of the term and “regional” histories, i. e., histories which refer not to a delineated location but rather to more extensive regions, such as provinces etc. Histories of cities, as for example Narshakhi’s Târikh‑e Bokhârâ (History of Bukhara)20 or the Târikh‑e Qom (History of Qom)21 contain a wealth of statistics and factual information but are devoid of the narrative potential of “story-telling” that we find in other chronicles. In the case of chronicles dealing with historical events in larger areas such as regions or whole provinces, most authors show a clear propensity for reporting events and telling stories instead of giving lists of inhabitants of city quarters or records of individuals buried in various cemeteries, as is often found in many town chronicles. As always, there are of course exceptions. Ebn-Fondoq’s (1097–1169) Târikh‑e Beyhaq, for example, is a many-layered compendium providing local history and local legends, biographies of eminent citizens, as well as a lengthy discourse on the nature and value of history and historiography in its preface (pp. 2–16).22 18 Bahâr, Sabk-shenâsi, II, pp. 44–50. 19 Bahâr, Sabk-shenâsi, II, pp. 122–28. 20 Abu-Bakr Mohammad b. Ja’far Narshakhi, Ketâb‑e târikh‑e Bokhârâ, ed. Modarres Razavi (Tehran, 1985). 21 Hasan b. Mohammad b. Hasan Qomi, Ketâb‑e târikh‑e Qom (Tehran, 1935). 22 Abu’l-Hasan Ali b. Zeyd Ebn-Fondoq Beyhaqi, Târikh‑e Beyhaq, ed. A. Bahmanyâr (Tehran, 1929).

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2. Writing Persian instead of Ara­bic— Is the Language the Media or the Message? Returning to the concept of “classic” works of history, one should mention at the outset the most voluminous and influential work in this category, the famous Ta’rikh al-Tabari (History of Tabari),23 a massive work written in Ara­bic and in many ways departing radically from the specimens of narrative prose just mentioned. In the course of time Tabari’s history came to serve almost as a blue-print for historians throughout centuries—in Ara­bic, in Persian, as well as in other languages. We cannot here deal in detail with Tabari’s work, bearing the full title of Ta’rikh al-rosol va’l-moluk va’lkholafâ (Annals of the Prophets, the Kings, and the Caliphs), but a brief look at its content and structure is necessary for the study of Persian historiography. The English translation of the work comprises 39 volumes with an additional volume of indices.24 His history starts with the creation of the world and of mankind, followed by a detailed report on the prophets (al-rosol) culminating with an account of the Prophet Mohammad and the advent of Islam. Tabari displays a deep understanding of the historical context in which the Prophet himself found himself. Having finished the reports on the preceding prophets, he does not immediately turn to Mohammad. Instead, interrupting his narrative at this juncture, he describes the ancient kingdoms, the Children of Israel and the four political entities which he perceived as crucial for the emergence of Islam: the empires of the Sasanians (Iran) and the Byzantines, the kingdom of the Lakhmids and of Southern Arabia (Yemen). He then continues his narrative with a detailed report on the Prophet Mohammad’s lifetime, the history of the succeeding caliphs, the Islamic expansion in the Arabian peninsula, and the conquest of Syria and Iran, two developments which required the preceding descriptions of Iranian and Byzantine rule as a prelude in order to make understandable the process of the inclusion of Syria and Iran into the lands of Islam. 23 Ta’rikh al-Tabari, ed. Mohammad Abu’l-Fadl Ebrâhîm (11 vols, Cairo, 1967–72). 24 The History of al-Ṭabari, gen. ed. Ehsan Yarshater, trs. vary (40 vols., Albany, N. Y., 1985–2007).

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Since Mohammad was perceived as the “Seal of the Prophets,” the subsequent chapters on further events under the rule of the first Omayyad and then Abbasid caliphs could not anymore be subsumed under the category of rosol (prophets). They were rather understood as the successors of what had been, according to alTabari’s view, the pre-Islamic moluk (kings). The last part of this magnificent work, which can hardly be compared to any other specimen of historical writing, treats the life-time of its author. He brings his report to an end with the year 915, i. e. roughly seven years before his death. The title of the book is an implicit reference to the conscious program of the entire opus: It consists of a cosmogonic part referring to the creation of the world and the appearance of the prophets, who repeatedly transmitted God’s revelation to Man, culminating in the Prophet Mohammad bringing the final revelation by transmitting the Qur’an and further manifestations of God’s will. This is done by means of reports referring to the Prophet’s conduct directly (by the Sire—The Prophet’s biography) or indirectly (by hadith, collected and approved reports by contemporary eye-witnesses and transmitted testimonials of such reports). Tabari’s primary occupation in a narrow sense was not that of a historian but of a mofasser, a theologian specializing in comments and explanations of the Holy Qur’an (usually referred to by the term tafsir). As an expert of tafsir, he was well acquainted with the tasks and skills of a mohaddeth, a theologian functionary who had to collect and professionally verify such reports by scrutinizing their authenticity and applying a highly refined methodology to identify the historical character of the witnesses to whom traditions concerning the Prophet were ascribed. This makes it plausible that the craft of writing of history (elm al-ta’rikh) can be regarded as an immediate but non-theological descendent of the theological discipline of elm al-hadith. These considerations are important, since they contain essential arguments for distinguishing Persian from Ara­bic chronicle-writing. Retrospectively and as suggested above, we may maintain that Tabari brought together four different categories of narrative: a cosmogonic view on the creation of the universe and mankind, a historicist view on political entities, which had already vanished 287

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by the life-time of the author (ancient empires, Sasanians, Byzantines, Lakhmids, and pre-Islamic Yemen or South Arabia), the scrupulously reported events around the Prophet Mohammad and the historical formation of Islam as a religion but also as a political and societal entity and, eventually, contemporary history of the Middle East as seen through his own eyes. As already argued, his methodological approach was clearly borrowed from the methods of elm al-hadith, the critical assessment of traditions referring to actions and sayings by the Prophet himself and the credibility of such traditions. Tabari asserts explicitly that his narrative relies exclusively on reports having been made by trustworthy witnesses all of whom had to undergo his–Tabari’s—own critical evaluation. The chain of relating witnesses that was necessary for the mohaddeth in order to prove the reliability of any reports on the activities and life of the Prophet was transferred to the genre of historical writing: Tabari made use of the same tools in order to assert the reliability of his historical reports that a mohaddeth had to apply professionally in the case of traditions referring to the Prophet Mohammad. The difference was that the latter—collecting Hadith-traditions concerning the Prophet—was acknowledged as part of Islamic theology, and reporting of historical events was understood as a non-theological scholarly activity. The Persian versions of various chapters of the Ta’rikh al-Tabari that were compiled by Abu-Ali Mohammad Bal’ami 25 were probably more directly influenced by Tabari than by any other Persian text. This work was finished in the year 352/963, less than fifty years after Tabari’s chronicle. Bal’ami was a vizier to the Samanid ruler Mansur b. Nuh (r. 961–76), and he wrote his partly new version of Tabari’s chronicle on the orders of this ruler. Bal’ami did not render a simple translation of Tabari’s original Ara­bic text into Persian. Our first impression of Bal’ami’s text is that this Persian version is much more oriented toward story-telling than to historical 25 Abu-Ali Mohammad Bal’ami, Tarjome-ye târikh‑e Tabarî: qesmat‑e marbut be-Irân, ed. Mohammad-Javâd Mashkur (Tehran, 1959); new edition by Mohammad Rowshan, Târikh-nâme-ye Tabarî: gardânide mansub be-Bal’ami az kohantarin motun‑e Fârsi, bakhsh‑e châp nashode (3 vols., Tehran, 1995).

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correctness which was an explicit aim of Tabari’s. He excluded parts of Tabari’s original, concentrated strongly on the chapters referring to Sasanian rule over Iran, and even enlarged parts of the reports concerning regional rulers in the East, during the periods of the caliphs. Bal’ami refrained from rendering the passages corroborating the authenticity of the original reports, a matter of central importance to Tabari. Later specimens of Persian historiography share these characteristics with Bal’ami, and it is therefore useful to concentrate on the relationship between the Ara­bic and Persian languages in the first centuries after the rise of Islam. Up to the middle of the 20 th century, scholars had repeatedly put forth the hypothesis that, after the Muslim conquest of Iran in the 7 th century, together with Islam as a religion, Ara­bic as a language was also foisted upon the newly converted or, at least, subjugated subjects. The gradual appearance of (New-)Persian alongside the Ara­bic linguistic dominance was in many cases understood as a symbol of resistance of “the Iranians,” a “re-appearance” rather, in the cultural history of the Middle East. This view was shared not only by a few scholars of Iranian origin but also widely accepted on an international level, too. More recent historical assessment views the matter differently and as far more intricate. There is ample indication that the New-Persian language came into use not by resistance against Islam but, rather parallel with the spread of Islam in the “Lands of the Eastern Caliphate,” i. e., the lands of the by-then vanished Sasanian Empire.26 New Persian, i. e., a variety related to Middle Persian (“Pahlavi,” the official language at Sasanian courts) but not an immediate successor to it, should not be understood as an element of linguistic resistance against Islam, but rather as a linguistic companion to Ara­bic within the process of Islamization. This concept may be helpful in correcting some misapprehensions and false deductions from the entire sho’ubiyye debate which still cloud the issue.27 The whole problem of this relationship should be discussed in the context of “reference cultures” and “late-comers.” 26 Guy Le Strange, The Lands of the Eastern Caliphate (London, 1905, repr. 1966). 27 Roy Mottahedeh. “The Shuʿûbîyah Controversy and the Social History of Early Islamic Iran,” IJMES 7 (1976), pp. 168–82.

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This context was examined at length at the occasion of a conference on “Reference Cultures and Imagined Empires from a Western Perspective, 1850–2000” at the Research Institute for History and Art History, Utrecht University (June 11–13, 2014). If we apply the concept “reference culture” as it was used for Modern Times at this conference to the early Islamic period we may see “Islamic life-style” as a reference culture phenomenon. This phenomenon had, and indeed still has, a linguistic marker: the Ara­bic language. Nevertheless, it would be a grave mistake to subsume everything “Ara­bic” as a “cultural reference” for “Islamic” in a general sense28. In history, (New-)Persian was the first language (among many others later on) to be adequately adopted for this life-style, and I hesitate to regard Persian language (and Persianate culture) as a “newcomer” in comparison to Ara­bic. “Islamic life-style” might have appeared as a rather Ara­bic affair at a first glance, but it is in fact a rather abstract construct which is equidistant to peoples and individuals of any linguistic or ethnic or regional coordination. From Syria to Central Asia via Media, Khorasan, and a wide range of further areas multilingualism was a common socio-cultural feature, as in many other parts of the world. The development of “Islamic life-style” has therefore been a multifaceted, still ongoing, historical process based far more on cross-pollination than antagonism. Transferred to our case of writing history (or any kind of literary texts) in Ara­bic or in Persian, we have to accept that there was much more cooperation than resistance in the relationship between the twain. But there were at the same time manifold aspects of division of labor. This approach offers us ways to compare Persian historiography with other developments of this genre, particularly in comparison with Ara­bic traditions of historical writing. The debate concerning the question whether chronicle writing in Persian is to be perceived 28 For a perceptive analysis of the notion “reference language,” which is, mutatis mutandis, applicable to Ara­bic and later to Persian from Anatolia to India, see Wiebke Denecke, Classical World Literatures: Sino-Japanese and Greco-Roman Comparisons (Oxford, 2013) and the review by Gunilla Lindberg-Wada in Monumenta Nipponica 71/2 (2016), pp. 377–81

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just as an adaptation of Ara­bic traditions or that Persian chronicles should be regarded as a genre of its own is a perennial feature of Islamic (or, more precisely, “Islamicate”) studies. Bertold Spuler, mentioned above, was inclined to argue in favor of the first opinion, and even Marilyn Waldman and probably Julie Scott Meisami have never distanced themselves expressly from such a perception. It may be instructive to view different approaches to Ara­bic and Persian historiography from a wider perspective. The German historian and specialist in Mamluk historiography, Ulrich Haarmann (1942–99), had opened a controversial debate in the 1980 s among specialists in Arab chronicle-writing, but this was not taken up in connection with Persian historiography.29 Applying Haarmann’s category of “literarization” to Mamluk historiography to the Persian material, it can be discerned that Persian chronicles can also be characterized by such specific aspects from a very early stage of development of the whole genre. It is therefore important to give the term “Islamicate historiography” a new shade of meaning. Within the whole field of writing history in the medieval lands of Islam, there is an obvious and visible aspect of “job-sharing” between the two languages Ara­bic and Persian: while elm al-ta’rikh in the strict sense, being derived from elm al-hadith, was clearly a domain of Ara­bic, Persian was, from a very early stage of development of the historiographical genre, the language of literary entertainment and of story-telling focusing on digressive and dramatic elements rather than on strict documentation of events. There are good reasons for the view that at the same time as the elm al-hadith left an imprint on Ara­bic historiographical writing, ancient Persian (Iranian) traditions of literary transmission of the past, mainly represented by the khwadây-nâme material, that is the pre-Islamic “Book of Kings” (mostly no longer extant), and later in the garb of poetry in the Persian books of kings (the socalled epic Shâh-nâme traditions), left a distinct imprint on Persian 29 Ulrich Haarmann, “Auflösung und Bewahrung der klassischen Formen arabischer Geschichtsschreibung in der Zeit der Mamluken,” ZDMG 121 (1971), pp. 46–60; idem, “Alṭun Ḫān und Čingiz Ḫān bei den ägyptischen Mamluken,” Der Islam 51 (1974), pp. 1–36.

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historiography. Hence the representation of action in the latter case usually follows dynastic paradigms rather than annalistic reports, with the few notable extant exceptions merely proving the rule. One important aspect of this narrative kind of prose literature in historiographical disguise was the strong importance of contemporary reports, i. e., reports based on the author’s immediate testimony. Persian authors relied strongly on their own experiences and on experiences which were reported to them by reliable friends or eye-witnesses. This reliability was much more based on individual perceptions than on any esnâd-like proofs of trusted transmitters of Hadith (esnâd is an enormously important element in Islamic theology: It contains the explicit reference to a chain of proved transmitters in order to corroborate the authenticity of a given report or statement). Reference to an esnâd of transmitters was widely practiced by chroniclers too, e. g., in the case of historians writing in Ara­bic. To modern historical researchers, this consideration implies inevitable methodological consequences. In addition to critical comparison of reports and the quest for originality there are also concepts of literary criticism which have to be considered and followed. In some cases, analysis of textual structure may turn out as at least as important to the historian as using traditional historical tools. This is not the place to delve into various positions of deconstruction and post-modernism which were so prevalent at the end of the 20 th century. Here, the discussion is confined to a mention of Michel Foucault as well as some implicit references to Hayden White, since the following considerations concerning narration and narrativity in the Persian tradition of historiography or, to put it in another way, story-telling in Persian historiography, are to some extent based on his distinction between “narrativity” and “fictionality.” It seem that the Persian chronicle-writer had no intention whatsoever to invent fiction. His goal was much more to narrate events and historical incidents; but his determination to document and to prove the veracity of such events was far less developed. It is this apparent reluctance to furnish full documentation and recite other testimonies that marks one of the main points of difference between Ara­bic and Persian chroniclers. 292

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The Târikh‑e Sistân,30 one of the earliest historiographical narratives in New Persian literature, is in some respects markedly different from the “classical” (Ara­bic) type of Islamicate chronicles. In many respects, this text is more similar to an epic story in prose reporting the virtues and adventures of a Persian dynasty in the time of early Islam. Bal’ami’s history is much shorter than Tabari’s. He not only refrains from reporting chains of proving traditions (ana an … “from—from—from …” a formula introducing and marking the chain of sources and narrators in whom the author trusts), but also deconstructs the annalist concept which serves Tabari as his basic structure. Moreover, Bal’ami does not tell us as much about the “prophets” (rosol) as Tabari does; he concentrates much more on the history of the moluk, the kings and emperors, and in this case, with obvious concentration on the kings belonging to the Iranian soil, in the broadest sense of the word. While Haarmann had concluded that anecdote-focused Ara­bic historiography in the late Middle Ages had served the literary interests of the reading urban middle class audience in Egypt and Syria, we may conclude that this kind of anecdotal writing of history in the Persian language from the very beginning might have catered to the literary taste of both urban and non-urban (e. g. military circles in many cases with a tribal background, and also people belonging to the circuit of courtly life) readers who, besides Ara­bic, also had a sound knowledge of Persian. Whilst Ara­bic served as a tool for scholarly writing in the context of historical texts, Persian was rather the medium of literary entertainment for those with a particular predilection for this kind of literature. As for Haarmann’s suggestion, it seems plausible that Ara­bic writers of the Mamluk period had developed or taken over modes of writing history which were already common among Persian-writing authors for centuries. Perhaps we cannot prove this hypothesis through direct statements from the authors of this kind of narrative literature from the early Islamic period, but the evidence is, nevertheless, overwhelming. 30 Târikh‑e Sistân, ed. Mohammad-Taqi Malek-al-Sho’arâ Bahâr (Tehran, 1935).

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As already mentioned, Waldman, Meisami, and others, have delved deeply into Beyhaqi in order to prove his involvement in networks of patronage. There was certainly an elaborate network of secretaries and bonds of loyalty as described by Beyhaqi,31 but this is both more and less than “patronage.” According to an observation by Mohsen Ashtiany (personal communication) it seems that Beyhaqi regarded his readers as his real patrons; like many great writers and poets who use a broad canvas (Ferdowsi comes into one’s mind immediately), Beyhaqi seems to address an idealized audience, both present and in the future, who share his belief in truth, kherad (wisdom), and seriousness of purpose. Beyhaqi was perhaps even more conscious of his peers, i. e., fellow secretaries and adibs, in displaying his sound judgment as well as the rhetorical skills he had in mind. (In this context, one is reminded of Mojtabâ Minovi’s comments in his preface to his edition of Kalile va Demne: A not very literate prince might yet collect a coterie of highly literate attendants at his court who would stimulate and inspire each other).32 The question remains: Who were his actual readers? One could argue that what distinguishes Beyhaqi from most other historians is that he lavishes as much praise on his friends and immediate superiors as he does upon princes and rulers present or deceased, and when it comes to criticism, he can be as biting about both though in different ways. Of course, we don’t have the full text, if it ever did exist in toto, so we cannot see the prefatory laudatory remarks that he may have composed, but the texture of what we do have tells its own story. In any case one must make a clear distinction in most texts between a panegyric intent embedded in the formulaic prefaces where expressing praise is de rigueur and conveyed in standard clichés and in the contents of the text itself. This is as true of narrative poems as of narrative prose. Beyhaqi bestows his courtesy in a formal way to a wide range of persons. He depicts 31

Abu’l-Fazl Mohammad b. Hoseyn Beyhaqi, Târikh‑e Beyhaqi, ed. Ali-Akbar Fayyâz (Tehran 1946); The History of Beyhaqi, tr. by C. E. Bosworth, revised by Mohsen Ashtiany (3 vols., Boston, 2011). 32 See Abu’l-Ma’âli Nasr-Allâh Monshi, Kalile va Demne, ed. Mojtabâ Minovi (Tehran, 2002), pp. ṭâ to y (I am thankful to Mohsen Ashtiany for this valuable observation).

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himself as an affable and convivial member of the court and seems well aware of his own persona in the dramatic events that he narrates and in which he had his own part to play. There cannot be any doubt about the over-all importance of patronage as a phenomenon closely connected with the sphere of chronicle writing. On the other hand, one should bear in mind that the quest for patrons and patronage belongs to the typical task of the majority of chronicle-writers. Looking at Beyhaqi through the eyes of a literary critic, we may observe that, whenever he is reporting on events related to his own lifetime, readers at once become enthralled by his personal and individual style of narration. As an example, his breath-taking report on the rise, fall, and execution of Hasanak the Vizier can be referred to as an exceptional piece of story-telling in classical Persian literature33—exceptional in quality but not at all as a phenomenon. We find comparable evidence in the already mentioned Târikh‑e Sistân and also in the anonymous early Persian chronicle from western Iran, Mojmal al-tavârikh va’l-qesas, in which the unknown author, among many other narrations, offers a fascinating description of the rise and fall of a local Kurdish dynasty in the area of Hamadan, the members of which are finally unmasked as traitors, liars, deceivers, and fools.34 This presentation is neither motivated by any ideological claim, nor triggered by personal antipathy for this clan—the motivation is clearly to tell a good story of high dramaturgical value. In not a few cases such stories were used in order to illustrate and convey moral or ethical themes. It might be a matter of debate whether such moral intentions should be evaluated as the main goal the authors had in mind to achieve— or such intentions served rather as useful pretexts to present a good story. Nezâmi Aruzi Samarqandi’s Chahâr maqâle (Four Treatises)35 33 This aspect is demonstrated in a masterly way in a short essay by Rudolf Gelpke, Die iranische Prosaliteratur im 20. Jahrhundert, 1. Teil: Grundlagen und Voraussetzungen (Wiesbaden, 1962), by comparing the narrative qualities of Beyhaqi with those of modern Persian authors. 34 Mojmal at-tavârikh va’l-qesas, ed. Mohammmad-Taqi Bahâr (Tehran, 1940), pp. 398–402. 35 Nezâmi Aruzi, Chahâr maqâle, ed. Mohammad Qazvini (Cairo and Leiden, 1910).

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can serve as an apt example: The author makes it explicit that from his own point-of-view presenting ethical instruction and moral indoctrination to his audience serves as a disguise for creating perfect pieces of highly refined prose literature.

3. Further Developments in Persian Historio­graphy from the 11 th to the 13 th Century We find traces of the same style of combining the literary with the historical in Persian chronicles from the Saljuq period as well. Among the historians of the era, two authors will be discussed in some detail. The first is Mohammad b. Ali Râvandi, author of the chronicle Râhat al-sodur va âyat al-sorur (Solace of the Hearts and Sign of Joy),36 which is devoted to the description of the socalled “Saljuqs of Iraq” who ruled in the areas of western Iran and Azerbaijan from the time of Sultan Sanjar until the conquests of the Khwârazmshâhs in the early 13 th century. Scholars of Saljuq history have differed in their estimation of this author due to the seemingly doubtful authenticity of his account concerning the period of the Great Saljuqs.37 His reports on the early Saljuq sultans from Toghrel I to Malekshâh are brimful of apocryphal anecdotes. Râvandi was moreover blamed for plagiarism in his presentation of facts. The author of the critical edition of Râvandi’s Râhat al-sodur was able to prove plenty of borrowings from Ebn-al-Athir’s famous Ara­bic universal chronicle, Ketâb al-kâmel fi’l-ta’rikh (The Complete Book of History),38 and also from earlier so called Saljuq-nâmes. Viewed from a different perspective, these objections 36 Mohammad b. Ali b. Soleymân Râvandi, Râhat al-sodur va âyat al-sorur, ed. Muḥammad Iqbál as The Ráḥat-uṣ-Ṣudúr wa Áyat-us-Surúr: Being a History of the Saljúqs (Leiden and London, 1921). 37 As generally acknowledged, the Great Seljuqs ruled from 429/1038 until the end of the reign of Sultan Sanjar (552/1158) over the greater part of Iranian soil and beyond. 38 Ebn-al-Athir, Ketâb al-kâmel fi’l-ta’rikh, ed. C. J. Tornberg as Chronicon quod perfectissimum inscribitur (12 vols., Leiden, 1851–76).

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appear almost irrelevant. Râvandi’s anecdotes concerning Toghrel I may be of limited value in terms of histoire évémentielle, but we learn a great deal about contemporary perceptions of the invading rulers and their interaction with local people, e. g., with prominent Sufis like Bâbâ Tâher, even if one suspects the king and the Sufi never actually met. As far as his ability to tell fascinating stories is concerned, factual discrepancies do not matter at all. Furthermore, Râvandi’s transmission of anecdotes referring to sovereigns who had ruled before his own lifetime has a value of its own. In the second part of his chronicle, in due course, Râvandi concentrates on the description and interpretation of events he had witnessed himself (or he, at least, could have witnessed). In a very sober if not acerbic manner, he describes the early Iraq-Saljuq rulers39—those who followed immediately after the “last Great Saljuq,” Sultan Sanjar—and their lack of political acumen when it came to displaying the qualities of an average ruler. While he ascribes to the politically incompetent forerunners of Toghrel III, the last ruler of the Iraq-Saljuqs, at least a certain desire for power and rule, he presents Toghrel III (d. 1194) without any hesitation as an inane coward who deserved to be defeated. These Iraq-Saljuq rulers were dominated by members of a dynasty of so-called Atabegs, who were the successors of a certain Ildeguz and had their stronghold in Azerbaijan. The Atabegs were originally tribal aristocrats who exercised the function of educators of royal princes. In the long run, it happened repeatedly that these Atabegs gained sufficient political power and influence to enable them to emerge from their shadowy position and eventually take over dynastic rule, thereby deposing the house in the service of which they once had started their career. Râvandi lays harsh criticism on the behavior of the sultans but maintains also an extremely critical position toward some of these Atabegs. Ildeguz himself is portrayed as an able politician whose proficiency in the management of power was beyond 39 During the second decade of the 12 th century, a collateral line of Saljuq princes managed to establish their rule in western Iran. They could maintain their positions only precariously until the invasion by the Khwârazmshâhs in the early 13 th century. Toghrel III was the last Saljuq ruler of this branch of the family.

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any doubt. Râvandi lavishes praise on one of his successors, Mohammad Jahân Pahlavân (d. 1187), but pours scorn on the person who followed him, his brother Qezel Arslân, who is described as ruthless and irresponsible, an almost insane character. He also describes in detail the take-over of power in western Iran by the Khwârazmshâhi40 troops, whom he characterizes as uncouth and brutish. In his verdict, incompetent and foolish sultans, together with a perverted Atabeg, deserved nothing less than to be eradicated by a powerful but uncivilized horde from the steppes. He laments the passing of the West-Iranian cultivated and urban life-style which had subsequently fallen victim to all these agglomerations of incompetence, stupidity and moral irresponsibility from the side of those who, during his lifetime, had seized and monopolized power. It goes without saying that there is a fair amount of recurring patterns to be found in a chronicle like Râvandi’s. Bewailing the absence of competent and, above all, “just” rulers is a staple diet of this genre of narrative literature. Nevertheless, it is well worth observing the ways and strategies that authors like Râvandi, and before him Beyhaqi, used in order to fill these structural requirements of pre-modern Islamicate historiography. One of their main literary tools is to tell stories and anecdotes, thus illustrating their basic and general intentions. Râvandi’s text is by no means a cohesive chronicle. On the one hand, he pretends to offer something like a dynastic history of the Saljuq house starting in the early 11 th century, down to the aforementioned Toghrel III. As far as the ruling periods of the early Saljuq sultans are concerned, he relies heavily on transmitting anecdotes as a vehicle to inform, educate, and entertain at the same time. These elements are intermingled with aspects of historical records referring to the chronological events. From the rise of the “sultans of Iraq” (the word “Iraq” at that time usually referred to western Iran, so-called Erâq‑e Ajam, particularly in a Persophone context), i. e., from roughly 1100 onwards, his reports become much more concrete, detailed, and lively, and he presents himself much more as a persona within his text. 40 The Khwârazmshâhs fell victim to the Mongol invaders under Chengiz Khan (1231).

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From his anecdotal reports, we understand that any kind of deficiencies in politics or moral standards, as well as lack of competence on the side of the rulers and of those close to the ruling class, had impressed his audience much more than anything else but also, more generally, chronicle-writers like him. They obviously followed a strong incentive to make use of the dramatic potential of these aspects in their chronicles by sometimes producing wellwrought and impressive stories. Another 13 th century author from the Saljuq period is the famous chronicler Ebn-Bibi from Konya in Anatolia,41 who compiled his reports under the title al-Avâmer al-ʿAlâ’iye fi’l-omur al-ʿAlâ’iye42 (for translation of the title, see below) by inserting news that may remind a contemporary reader more of some kind of “tabloid press” elements than of officious and sober items that may come to one’s mind in connection with the genre of chronicle writing. As an example, his report on a Saljuq’s ruler’s marriage to a Georgian princess could remind us of accounts that have a touch of contemporary popular descriptions of Windsor, Hollywood, or Monte Carlo affairs. It may be a point of interest to look for the importance of patrons and patronage in the quest for the intentions of chronicle writers like those who have been mentioned in this essay. To some historians it is apparently an almost central intention to look for the consequences of having dedicated their opus to this or that person of political power. In the case of Ebn-Bibi, there are two persons to whom he dedicated his treatise: the Anatolian Saljuq 41 The so-called “Saljuqs of Rum” established their rule in Asia Minor in the year 1081 as a collateral branch of the Great Saljuqs. Their urban center was the city of Konya. In 1243, they were defeated by the Mongols and survived a couple of decades after this event as vassals to the Mongol court in Tabriz. 42 Ed. Adnan Erzi as El-Evāmirü’l-ʿAlā’iyye fī’l-Umūri’l-ʿAlā’iyye (Ankara, 1957). This is a facsimile edition of the manuscript Aya Sofya 2985. There is an annotated German tr. by Herbert W. Duda, Die Seltschukengeschichte des Ibn Bibi (Copenhagen, 1959). This tr. follows an abridged version of this text, possibly written during the life-time of Ebn-Bibi (the so-called Mokhtasar‑e Ebn-Bibi. There is a recent edition of the complete text by Zhâle Motaheddin, published by the Institute for Humanities and Cultural Studies (Tehran, 2011).

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ruler Alâ’-al-Din III Keyqobâd, in whose service Ebn-Bibi was employed, and the famous chronicle-writer Alâ’-al-Din Atâ-Malek Joveyni (1226–1283), author of the Târikh‑e Jahân-goshây (History of the World-Conqueror) which contains a unique description of the life-time and conquests of the Mongol world-ruler Chingis Khân.43 This fact is shown by the above-mentioned title of Ebn-Bibi’s chronicle: al-Avâmer al-Alâ’iye fe’l-omur al-Alâ’iye, which means “Alâ’-al-Din’s (i. e. Joveyni’s) Orders referring to Alâ’-alDinian (i. e. the Sultan’s) Affairs.” This implies that Ebn-Bibi wrote his chronicle in accordance with a proposal by the contemporary chronicler Joveyni, and that he aimed at describing the lifetime of the Sultan Alâ’-al-Din Keyqobâd in the territories of Rum (Anatolia). As with Râvandi, things appear a little more complicated. EbnBibi had changed his dedication whilst writing his chronicle, while Râvandi’s finite object of dedication was another Saljuq sultan of Rum. What is significant is the fact that obviously the dedication—and the person to whom such a work was dedicated—did not deeply affect the narrative structure of the text itself. His dedication implied extensive formalized laudations in which the usual poetic exaggerations were presented to the readership in order to brandish the author’s rhetorical skills. The contents proper were much less contaminated. This point is generally applicable to other works as well. For example, Nezâmi Ganjavi also switched patrons in medias res, but this only affected the prefatory or concluding lines and not the narrative of his epic poem itself. There is one more interesting point in the case of Râvandi worth mentioning: Since we have an early manuscript of Râvandi, his numerous citations of earlier or near contemporary poets within his report—such as Nezâmi—are helpful in critically editing the inserted poets’ own texts in cases where only later manuscripts exist, which would have been tampered with in the course of time. Political criticism is therefore much more emphatic in this type of literature than one would expect at a first glance. Apparently, 43 Tr. John Andrew Boyle as The History of the World Conqueror (2 vols., Manchester, 1958).

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this was a topic by means of which popular entertainment on behalf of those who read such texts or to whom such text may have been recited could easily be enhanced. There is no need for any explanation of the fact that authors of chronicles hesitated to express criticism of their immediate rulers, but when it came to the case of even only one generation earlier, the level of veneration and respect shrunk dramatically. Admittedly, historians tend to lay much more criticism on rulers and military leaders than on bureaucrats—a fact which makes sense if we take into consideration that many of these authors belonged themselves immediately or indirectly to the class of the scribes or the bureaucrats. In the context of this divide between men of the pen and men of the sword, we should note the various weapons to be found in the writer’s armory. For example, when it comes to criticism, as well as implicit criticism of a ruler or his commanders through a telling anecdote, showing their ineptitude, some historians also used the vehicle of sarcastic and ironic allusions by saying something when they really mean the exact opposite: such as “magnificent building” when it is clear to most readers that they mean a dilapidated dump, or “victorious army” when they mean a defeated bunch of soldiers on retreat, a device sometimes called este’âre-ye enâdiyye. Beyhaqi uses this in a few places,44 but it is far more frequently used in later texts, such as, for example, Mohammad Khorandezi Zeydari Nasavi’s Nafthat al-masdur (Expectoration of the Consumptive) of the 13 th century, where a fallen down palace might be described as emârat‑e ma’mure (“a well-kept building”). This interplay between rhetoric and history can also be seen in the histories of viziers, such as the Târikh al-vozarâ’ (as edited by Dâneshpazhuh) or with its proper title: Dheyl‑e Nafthat al-masdur (no connection with the other title above) by Najm-al-Din Abu’l-Rajâ’ Qomi (also 13 th century). Its tour de force is couched in a language in which proverbs and vignettes, mostly culled from Ara­bic literature, are so skillfully rendered into precise Persian that one thinks that one 44 See, for example, Beyhaqi, The History of Beyhaqi, II, p. 154 and the footnote concerning it in III, p. 280, n. 231, where the use of victorious army (lashkar‑e manṣur) should be taken with a pinch of salt.

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is reading a compendium of original and well-established Persian proverbs and adages. These are used either to belittle former viziers or to praise them. A specific and fascinating aspect of Persian historiography from the Saljuq period consists of early aspects of what we may call “dynastic” chronicle writing—an aspect which was already mentioned in a different connection above. Râvandi and Ebn-Bibi, among others, report mainly on events related to their own rulers and their immediate forefathers. There may have been early ties between these aspects of historiography and texts being usually subsumed under the heading of “mirrors for princes”—a genre definitely rooted in pre-Islamic traditions (see chapter 2). This is not the place to discuss this delicate problem in detail, but this possible interdependence should at least be mentioned. Ebn-Bibi, and partly Râvandi too, emphasized (as many other authors of Persian historiographical texts) Tabari’s and other Ara­bic-writing authors’ habit of constructing their texts according to an annalistic scheme, while they themselves concentrated mainly on the life and times of the rulers belonging to the actual dynasty (in their cases the Saljuqs). This tendency was intensified under Mongol rule, and Joveyni’s chronicle dealing with Chengis Khân’s lifetime may serve as an apt example. We owe to the author Karim-al-Din Mahmud Âqsarâ’i (Mosâmarât al-akhbâr, Evening Conversations about News)45 the information that under the rule of the post-Saljuq dynasty of the so-called Qaramân-oghullari the language of administration was officially changed from Persian to the Old- (or “Pre-”) Ottoman version of Turkish. Subsequently, chronicle-writing was also changed to Ottoman Turkish, and with the rise of the Ottoman dynasty a new genre of historical writing came into being: Ottoman “imperial” chronicle-writing. Early Ottoman historians had transformed Persian traditions of dynastic chronicles not only in terms of language; but starting from these traditions they developed in due course a new and very specific concept of Ottoman 45 Ed. Osman Turan as Kerimüddin Mahmud-i Aksarayî, Müsâmeret-ül-Ahbâr: Moğullar zamanında Türkiye Selçukluları tarihi (Ankara, 1944).

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imperial historiography which subsequently survived until the 19 th century. Whilst classical Ottoman poets used to insist intensely on their close dependency on models of Persian poetry until the 19 th century, the chronicle-writers refrained from referring to any Persian traditions within their genre. On the contrary, they developed a specific model of describing only one single dynasty, i. e., the “House of Osman.” Other ruling families or non-Ottoman territories were only dealt with when they became subject to imperial Ottoman policies or activities.46 In the first Saljuq century—the period of the so-called “Great Saljuqs” from the first half of the 11 th until the middle of the 12 th centuries—we find an extraordinary specimen of historical writing, the author of which was, in his time, one of the most powerful individuals of his era: The Siyâsat-nâme or Siyar al-moluk (“Book of Politics” or “Conduct of Rulers”) written by Nezâm-al-Molk (1018–92),47 the grand vizier to the sultans Alp Arslân and his successor Malekshâh. In literary histories, this text is often described or introduced as a “mirror for princes” or some similar term, and less often as a chronicle. In fact, it is not a chronicle, but a significant piece of (meta-)historical writing and reasoning on an almost philosophical level. Anachronistically and in modern academic jargon, the Siyâsat-nâme could be described as an essay on “political studies.” Nezâm-al-Molk lived in a period in which the lands of the caliphate and particularly the institution of the caliphate appeared to be in deep peril. In Cairo, a Shi’ite sectarian movement— the Ismailis—had established a competing caliphate, the Fatimid caliphs,48 opposed to the ideological concepts of Sunni theology. In loose contact with them, or maybe under their direct influence, extremist groups and movements tried successfully do destabilize political rule in most parts of the caliphate. The Bâteni movement, famous in the West as the so-called “Assassins,” had managed to take root in Iranian soil, and it was one of the major concerns of 46 Franz Babinger, Die Geschichtsschreiber der Osmanen und ihre Werke (Leipzig, 1927). 47 Hasan b. Ali Nezâm-al-Molk, Siyar al-moluk (Siyâsat-nâme), ed. Mahmud Âbedi (Tehran, 2020). 48 They ruled in Cairo from 973 until 1074.

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Nezâm-al-Molk to re-establish and reinforce Sunni theology and jurisprudence. He regarded this not only as a means of reinforcing Sunni doctrines among the various layers of society but more precisely as the basic ideology of politics and rule within the Saljuq realm proper and in the wider perspective of the entire dâr al-Eslâm, which, according to Nezâm-al-Molk, should be definitely and undisputedly dominated by Sunni jurisprudence, law, and conduct. He documented his philosophical and ideological concept in a long treatise, the aforementioned Siyâsat-nâme. One might have expected that such a work would be of a mainly philosophical (or theological) content, but this is not the case. Nezâm-al-Molk’s reasoning proves to be firmly grounded on his perception of history. His defense of “orthodox” political rule is not based on theological considerations but is rooted in the concept that obeying “law and order” belongs to the essential and indispensable prerequisites of any kind of rule whether Muslim or non-Muslim. And it was for this very reason that Nezâm-alMolk’s argument turned out to be based on historical considerations and not on theology. Following information which he could have gathered easily from earlier sources like Tabari’s famous chronicle, he started his refutation of revolutionary extremism using the example of the Mazdakite uprising against the Sasanian king Khosrow I Anushervan in the 6 th century.49 While the Zoroastrian king Khosrow—also in accordance with Qur’anic concepts—was conceived by Nezâm-al-Molk as the perfect image of a “just ruler,” who should serve as a model for this concept to many generations of Muslims, the upheaval by a young sectarian agitator at Khosrow’s court was presented as something like a satanic challenge to the divine principle of law and order. The dangerous aspect of this Mazdak and the Mazdakites was to be found in the fact that they propagated uncontrolled sexual relations in the royal court and in princely households. This tenet at once threatened the strict caste system on which the vertical hierarchy of distinction by descent and parentage among Sasanian societal elites was built. Facing the general danger for societal order that was caused by 49 He ruled 531–78.

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Mazdak’s rebellion, a new legal system had to be established, and it was exactly this program for which Khosrow, known as Dâdgar, the “legislator” or the “bestower of justice,” became famous and, in Nezâm-al-Molk’s report, filled the most prominent position before the revelation of Islam to the Prophet Mohammad. The following centuries of Islamic-Iranian history were, according to Nezâm-al-Molk, characterized by continuous struggles between the defenders of orthodoxy, as those who stood firmly for the maintenance of public order, and various infidel and heretic underground movements perennially engaged in undermining the very fabric of a stable society. This all-including pattern of something like a permanent conspiracy by evil forces against the “good”—i. e., law and order—throughout the course of centuries culminated during Nezâm-al-Molk’s life-time in the fight between legal powers (caliphate, sultanate) and sinister rebels who were driven by evil creeds and convictions and who did not aim at anything less than the ultimate destruction of civilized society. For this reason, in the realm of faith the prevalence of Sunni orthodoxy was to be supported unfailingly at all costs and any dangerous and radical divergent creeds or philosophies had to be eradicated. This was particularly the case regarding the Ismaili gholât (“the extremists”)—a religious group which he considered as extremely dangerous. His attitude towards the Twelver Shi’ites and Sufis of different colors in general, suggest a more flexible policy malleable enough to maintain order in a vast realm through other means than sheer brute force. According to his narrative, the enemies only changed their disguises; the Assassins of Ismaili origin of his own life-time belonged, according to his conviction, to the same satanic movement as the pre-Islamic Mazdakites. In retrospect, there is something fascinating about the fact that Nezâm-al-Molk decided to transmit these ideas not by using the literary genre of a philosophical or theological treatise but in the disguise of a historical narration. What appears as a “mirror for princes” at first glance turns out to be something like a dramatic historiographical report on historical facts. For Nezâm-al-Molk, this was obviously the appropriate genre for achieving his ideological goals. 305

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4. Mongol Rule over Iran and New Perspectives in Historiography It was during the late Samanid and early Ghaznavid period that the most famous literary and poetic work of Persian historiography came into being: Ferdowsi’s Shâh-nâme (Book of Kings). This incomparable epic does not consist of only mythical traditions and a cosmogony presented from a clearly Iranian perspective. About a third of the Shâh-nâme focuses on the history of the Sasanian kings of Iran, and, in this particular case, the analogy with Tabari’s great work cannot be denied. It is not so much the parts referring to various aspects of Iranian mythology that support the Iranian people’s sense of history and of historical development but more those parts that report on the fate of the Sasanian kings: Bahrâm Gur, Khosrow Anushervân, the last Yazdegerd, and others. The question of the further impact of the Shâh-nâme on Persian literary historical narrative from later periods and even from outside of Iran proper will be raised in due course. First, however, we must address the controversies regarding the Mongol domination over Iranian lands. This period (13 th and 14 th centuries) has for a long time been subject to condemnation from the side of nationalist Iranian observers, looking back retrospectively, and from Iranophile Western scholars, who helped feeding collective prejudices against such “barbarians” from the Inner Asian steppes—a prejudice which they had widely in common with Russians against the Golden Horde and European, and among them particularly German, nationalists against the medieval Huns. By adopting Asian perspectives instead of a Mediterranean or Occidental view on Iranian history, for about forty years now, or even more, a process of gradual revision of the totally negative image of the Mongols’ impact on the historical development of Iran and her neighboring areas can be witnessed. As it appears now, many structural aspects of contemporary Iranian identities do not date back to any ancient or even extra-historical Iranian mythology but are rather connected with various measures that were taken in order 306

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to manage the impact and consequences of the Mongol invasion of the Middle East.50 This consideration is particularly obvious in cases related to the development of the Persian language as a medium of trans-regional communication under the general conditions of global imperial rule under Mongol domination. Over the centuries, within the “Lands of the Eastern Caliphate,” the position of Persian improved in comparison to Ara­bic. The latter was without any doubt the dominant language regarding various aspects of Islamicate civilization, but as the example of poetry and prose writing and, last but not least, of historical writing shows, Persian had developed irresistibly in various socio-linguistic domains. It was during the period of Saljuq rule that Persian became the main language in state administration including financial affairs, not only in Iran proper but also in Asia Minor, where Persian was by no means the mother tongue of the majority of the population. This goes as well for the Caucasus, for Transoxiana, and occasionally even for the north-western regions of the Indian subcontinent (Indus valley and the Punjab). Among Central Asian merchants and far distance traders, it had been used as a kind of lingua franca for centuries.51 Due to the continuous extension of Mongol rule from Eastern Central Asia not only into northern China but also into the lands of Islam as well as to Russia and Eastern Europe, the importance of Persian as a vehicle of transcultural communication was enhanced considerably. Persian gained additional importance even in the field of political correspondence with powers far beyond the realm of dâr al-Eslâm—a fact well illustrated by the Great Khan Güyük’s famous letter to Pope Innocent IV originally written in the Mongolian language but accompanied by a Persian translation, which had been written in Karakoram, in the Mongolian heartlands.52 50 As mentioned above, the most recent discussion and analysis of the quest for the Mongols’ position in Iranian history can be found in detailed documentation in Anja Pistor-Hatam, Geschichtsschreibung und Sinngeschichte in Iran: Historische Erzählungen von mongolischer Eroberung und Herrschaft, 1933–2011 (Leiden and Boston, 2014). 51 Bert G. Fragner, Die Persophonie. Regionalität, Identität und Sprachkontakt in der Geschichte Asiens (Berlin, 1999). 52 Denise Aigle, “The Letters of Eljigidei, Hülegü and Abaqa: Mongol Overtures or Christian Ventriloquism?,” Inner Asia 7/2 (2005), pp. 143–62.

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This clearly happened because of a conviction that, viewed from a Mongol geographical perspective, Persian was a language that was understood everywhere in “the West.” Persian was indeed present in the city of Karakoram and, a generation later, in Qubilai (Kublai) Khan’s metropolitan capital Khânbâleq, in our days better known as Beijing. Until the discovery in the 20 th century of the famous chronicle “The Secret History of the Mongols” written in Mongolian, only Chinese and Persian sources were available for the reconstruction of the history of the Chengisid Empire. Persian was most probably the language by means of which Marco Polo communicated during his travels through Central Asian and China, and this language penetrated even parts of the religious— Islamic—domain of West Asian societies, as for instance the whole field of vaqf-administration (the administration of affairs referring to pious foundations), mysticism (“Sufism”) and even in practical aspects of Islamic theology. As a result of this development, from the late Middle Ages, Persian became the language of reference from Eastern Anatolia, the Caucasus, and the Persian Gulf to the Indian subcontinent and throughout the greater parts of Central Asia. Islamic civilizations of Central Asia, whose primary language had been various kinds of Turkish, in many cases showed a clear tendency to use their own language more as a vernacular in comparison to Persian. It goes without saying that this linguistic development made a deep impact on the development of Persian literature and of Persian historical writing, too. It will be useful to shed some light on three chronicles from the Mongol period: those of the already mentioned Joveyni, Rashid-alDin (1247–1318),53 and Vassâf (fl. early 14 th century).54 These three authors were not only deeply rooted in the traditions of Persian 53 Rashid-al-Din Hamadâni was born in 1247 at Hamadan into a Jewish family. He studied medicine and joined the court of the Mongol Il-Khans. In 1304 became the vizier of the Mongol emperor Ghâzân (Mahmud) He was eventually executed in 1318. Cf. Charles Melville, “Jāmeʿ al-tawārīḵ,” in EIr, XIV, pp. 462–68. 54 Abd-Allâh b. Fazl-Allâh Vassâf al-Hazrat, Tajziyat al-amsâr va-tazjiyat alaʿsâr, facs. ed. Iraj Afshâr, Mahmud Omid-Sâlâr, Nâder Mottalebi-Kâshâni, et. al. (Tehran, 2009). Cf. Rypka, Iranische Literaturgeschichte, p. 301.

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historiography from pre-Mongol periods, but also responded to the challenges of their time, each of them in his own specific way. Joveyni had been commissioned to compose a Persian chronicle describing and presenting Chengis Khan’s conquests, from the dawn of his martial ventures until his death. For this purpose, Joveyni was sent to Karakoram in Mongolia so that he could study the original Mongol sources, including apparently the famous “Secret History,” aided by translators and interpreters. In this, he could refer to certain ethnographic and ethnological concepts prevalent in the Eastern Islamic world—especially to the tradition of Abu-Reyhân Biruni’s (973–1052) magnificent description of India, written in Ara­bic some generations earlier. These traditions of a scholarly ethnographic perspective were converted into a literary concept by Joveyni, who, as a complete innovation, wrote a chronicle which, rather than focusing on affairs related to his own region, mostly described events that occurred thousands of miles away, out in the Mongolian steppes, referring to a totally different and to himself previously unknown civilization. This means that he had to extricate himself mentally to some extent from any literary models of Islamicate chronicle writing. Reading his report must have caused feelings of surprise among his contemporary recipients. His ethnographic distancing from the powerful ruling character he had to depict has not, even in our days, lost its overwhelming impact. On the other hand, it was Joveyni who tried to fit his chronicle into a schematic frame of literary rules according to which, for instance, he presented Chengis Khan as an almost demoniac tyrant but just to the opposite Möngke Khan as something like the prototype of a “just ruler”– in perfect accordance with what E. A. Poliakova calls “literary etiquette.”55 Joveyni’s descriptions and accounts nearer to home are also interesting, as is his masterly “architectural” style using the device of verse interlace—prosimetrum would be too strong here—to connect the more immediate present to the distant pre-Islamic past: He uses progressively and in strict order, for example, episodes from Ferdowsi’s 55 E. A. Poliakova, “The Development of a Literary Canon in Medieval Persian Chronicle: The Triumph of Etiquette,” IrSt 17 (1984), pp. 237–56, particularly 244–45.

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section on Sohrâb and his downfall to recall a heroic tragedy of the Kayanian times to the more recent plight of the Khwârazmshâh. Just one generation later, Rashid-al-Din Fazl-Allâh no longer confined himself to the territorial scope of the then new imperial masters of Iran around 1300 but wrote a universal history in his voluminous Jâme’ al-tavârikh (Compendium of Histories).56 Rashidal-Din was himself was of Jewish origin but had embraced Islam at an early stage of his career at the Il-Khans’ court (i. e., the Mongol rulers of Chengisid origin on Iranian soil). He was trained as a physician but became one of the important counselors to Ghâzân Khân and was eventually executed under Ghâzân’s successor as the result of a courtly intrigue. As a chronicler, Rashid-al-Din wrote a series of Persian histories of various regions and peoples—among others a history of the “Franks” (farangi, i. e. Europeans), of India, of China, and, of the Children of Israel (Târikh‑e Bani Esrâ’il).57 As a descriptive piece of contemporary history, he wrote his Târikh‑e mobârak‑e Ghâzân Khân (Blessed History of Ghâzân Khân),58 which included the conditions under Ghâzân Khan’s predecessors. An aspect that was mentioned already with reference to Beyhaqi and Râvandi, namely more or less veiled and sometimes even blunt disrespect displayed to rulers even from the dynasty which he served, is clearly visible in his chronicles. Just as an example, his report on the medical treatment and the subsequent death of an Ilkhanid ruler may be mentioned here: The Ilkhans (down to Geykhatu and Ghâzân) were, just like their cousins on the throne of the socalled Yuan emperors in Beijing, at least formally Buddhists, probably having combined this confession with rather vaguely defined Shamanist or Animist convictions. As for medical care, they had 56 See bibliography. 57 These are all parts of his Jâme’ al-tavârikh. There exist carefully commented German translations by Karl Jahn, published in single volumes by the Austrian Academy of Sciences in Vienna (Die Frankengeschichte des Rašīd adDīn, 1977; Die Geschichte der Kinder Israels des Rašid ad-Din, 1973; Die Geschichte der Oġuzen des Rašīd ad-Dīn, 1969; Die Chinageschichte des Rašīd ad-Dīn, 1971; Die Indiengeschichte des Rašīd ad-Dīn, 1980). 58 Ed. Karl Jahn as Geschichte Ġāzān-Ḫān’s aus dem Ta’riḫ-i-mubārak-iĠāzānī des Rašīd al-Dīn Faḍlallāh b. ʿImād al-Daula Abūl-Ḫair (London, 1940).

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less trust in “Islamic”-Ptolemaian (Galenic) traditions of medicine than in Indian customs of treatment. In retrospect, Rashid-al-Din describes in detail how a sick king had delivered himself to the medical skills of an Indian bakhshi—a healer, i. e., a Buddhist learned holy man with medical proficiency—who, obviously in diametrical opposition to the school of Rashid-al-Din himself, adhered to the use of quicksilver as a cure for the ruler’s disablement, a measure which caused Rashid-al-Din’s harsh disapproval. In an almost cynical or rather satirical manner, Rashid-al-Din describes the patient’s progressive physical deterioration until his eventual death by maltreatment and poisoning. Rashid-al-Din’s style is clinically sober and of almost unnatural coolness.59 It is fascinating to contrast this passage of Rashid-al-Din’s with Beyhaqi’s denunciation of an old wives’ recipe for curing temporary impotence which led to a hapless prince’s death—also sober and disdainful at the same time.60 In contrast to Rashid-al-Din, another chronicler, who became famous as “Vassâf” (a shortened version of vassâf‑e hazrat—“the [literary] describer of His Majesty, the ruler”) composed a history of his masters, the dynasty of the Ilkhans, which in due course gained considerable fame because of the stylistic refinement the author used in its compilation. Roughly contemporaneously, the history of the Mongol Ilkhans of Persia was retold by another historian, Hamd-Allâh Mostowfi (fl. 1281–1344), in his long verse narrative, Zafar-nâme (The Book of Victories),61 written in the style of Ferdowsi’s Shâh-nâme. The 59 Birgitt Hoffmann, “Wortkunst im Dienste der Welteroberer: Ein vergleichender Blick auf persische Gelehrte, Bürokraten und Dichter unter der mongolischen Ilkhanen,” in Markus Ritter et al., eds., Iran und iranisch geprägte Kulturen: Studien zum 65. Geburtstag von Bert G. Fragner (Wiesbaden, 2008), pp. 259–71; Birgitt Hoffmann, Waqf im mongolischen Iran: Rašīduddīns Sorge um Nachruhm und Seelenheil (Stuttgart, 2000). 60 See Beyhaqi, The History of Beyhaqi, II, pp. 246–47. 61 Hamd-Allâh Mostowfi Qazvini, Zafar-nâme, facs. ed. N. Purjavâdi and N. Rastgâr as Zafar-nâme-ye Hamd-Allâh Mostowfi be-enzemâm-e Shâhnâme-ye Abu’l-Qâsem Ferdowsi (be tashih-e Hamd-Allâh Mostowfi): châp-e aksi az ru-ye noskhe-ye khatti-ye movarrakh-e 807 hejri dar Ketâbkhâne-ye Beritâniyâ Or 2833 / Ẓafarnāma von Ḥamdullāh Mustaufi ̄ und Šāhnāma von Abu’l Qāsim Firdausī (2 vols., Tehran and Vienna, 1999).

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name Mostowfi refers to his profession: He was involved in the assessment of agricultural taxes. Thus it was not by mere chance that apart from his epic poem, he had also written a geographical treatise, or rather a geographical manual, for what he called Irânzamin, the “land of Iran.” This formulation introduces a significant innovation. When the Sasanian Empire succumbed to the Arab invasion and subsequently to the process of Islamization of the conquered territories from the middle of the 7 th century onward, the denomination “Iran” in its political sense fell into oblivion. It survived as a strongly emotive term used by many poets and writers over centuries, but as a denomination of a politically defined territory or region the term “Iran” no longer existed after the Islamic conquest. As a concrete political concept, its revitalization came later, under the reign of Ilkhanid rulers, probably at the initiative of Mostowfi. Before the Ilkhanid period, the eastern part of the caliphate, i. e., the area which was frequently called mashreqzamin (the “East”), was usually perceived to consist of a western part, the so-called “Iraq” (a combination of Mesopotamia and the pre-Islamic lands of the Achaemenid, Parthian, and Sasanian province of “Media,” in its broader sense also including Azerbaijan); the southern lands of Fars and Kerman; central and northern areas; and the great eastern province of Khorasan, which denoted a far larger area in the Middle Ages than in our own time. Under Islamic hegemony, Khorasan, the northern border of which was usually understood to be the river Oxus (Amu-Daryâ), was conceived to include the former Central Asian regions Soghdiana and Khwârazm which were then called Mâ varâ al-nahr (“what lies land beyond the river,” i. e. Transoxiana). Due to the Islamicate mental mapping of the whole region, the Oxus was not anymore assumed to constitute a dividing line but to function as a connecting link. As detailed above, this regional concept remained a stable conception of Western and Central Asia until the foundation of the Chengisid Empire. After the death of Chengis Khan, the imperial territory was divided into a number of partial empires, socalled ulus. Transoxiana was defined as part of the ulus Chaghatay, but one generation later the lands of Iran were transferred to a Chengisid line that was closely related to the Great Khans Möngke 312

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and Qubilai, thus shaping an alliance, which was conceived as hostile to the ulus Chaghatay, and to a further ulus, the so-called Golden Horde, on the soil of what we today understand as Russia (the Golden Horde and Chaghatay being mutually hostile as well). Roughly about 1300, under the rule of the Ilkhan Ghâzân, the Iranian lands south of the Oxus were defined as Irân-zamin (the land of Iran). In so doing, the Mongol Ilkhans revived the concept of “Iran” after a period of about seven centuries or more. Strange as it may seem, the Mongol rulers of Iran saw themselves as no less than the legitimate successors of the Sasanians; and in due course invested a fair share of energy in enhancing a wide range of symbolic paraphernalia in order to help them refashion themselves in this role.62 Hamd-Allâh Mostowfi was doubtless one of the foremost proponents of this agenda when he was at the service of Ghâzân Khan. This ideological concept was reflected in his Nozhat al-qolub (Delight of the Hearts)63—a descriptive geographical survey of precisely the land, Irân-zamin, that he intended to propagate. After presenting his definition of these “lands of Iran,” he not only focused his efforts on the propagation of Ferdowsi’s poem but also decided to write the Zafar-nâme, an already mentioned extensive continuation of the Shâh-nâme. This monumental epic by HamdAllâh Mostowfi contains about 75,000 couplets and, among other themes, mainly treats the history of the Mongol Ilkhanid rulers down to the year 1335. 62 Bert G. Fragner, “The Concept of Regionalism in Historical Research on Central Asia and Iran (A Macro-Historical Interpretation),” in Devin DeWeese, ed., Studies on Central Asian History in Honor of Yuri Bregel (Bloomington, 2001), pp. 341–54; idem, “Historische Wurzeln neuzeitlicher iranischer Identität: zur Geschichte des politischen Begriffs ‘Iran’ im späten Mittelalter und in der Neuzeit,” in Maria Macuch, Christa MüllerKessler, and Bert G. Fragner, eds., Studia Semitica necnon Iranica Rudolpho Macuch septuagenario ab amicis et discipulis dedicata (Wiesbaden, 1989), pp. 79–100. A short version can be found in Gherardo Gnoli and Antonio Panaino, eds., Proceedings of the First European Conference of Iranian Studies, Part 2 (Rome 1990), pp. 365–76. 63 Hamd-Allâh Mostowfi, Nozhat-al-qolub, ed. and tr. Guy Le Strange as The Geographical Part of the Nuzhat-al-Qulūb (2 vols., London, 1915–19).

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We can discern a particular feature of Persian historical writing up to this time—the late Middle Ages. On one hand, it is clear that historical writing in the Persian language had been perceived as an important means of literary entertainment. And because this genre could serve so successfully to entertain and attract an audience, it was sometimes used to serve important political and above all ideological ends, just as we argued in the case of the Saljuq vizier Nezâm-al-Molk and here regarding the high official Hamd-Allâh Mostowfi in the early 14 th century. Mostowfi’s idea to extend the Shâh-nâme had its basis in the fact that already in the generations following Ferdowsi a tendency of avowed borrowing and imitation could be witnessed, which resulted in the composition of a great number of epic poems treating mythical themes in more or less close analogy to Ferdowsi’s work. But the Mongol officials’ and bureaucrats’ intention was not to write another fanciful story about brave heroes and beautiful princesses, but to propagate the Shâh-nâme as something like a proto-nationalist epic text in order to mobilize “Iranian-ness” as a means of political support for the Ilkhanid rule in Iran. This suggests that, in the eyes of the ruler and his entourage, the Shâh-nâme and similar texts could serve as a potential tool to represent the state and power. And it was precisely this aspect of the Shâh-nâme that would be very much in evidence in the following centuries.64 Hamd-Allâh Mostowfi was the first of a long series of authors who used the format of the Shâh-nâme in order to conceive a dynastic history of rulers according to the model of Ferdowsi. His adoption of Ferdowsi’s genre for historiography in a more restricted sense was not fortuitous: The Ilkhans and their courts had developed a hitherto intense interest in the Shâh-nâme and were most amenable to the idea of being literarily represented in analogy to Ferdowsi’s princely Iranian epic heroes. To Mostowfi, we also owe an important redaction of Ferdowsi’s voluminous text, and 64 Details concerning this matter are discussed at length by Manuchehr Mortazavi, Masâ’el‑e asr‑e Ilkhâniyân (3 rd ed., Tehran, 2006), pp. 547–625, and also by Mohammad Amin Riyâhi, Sarchashme-hâ-ye Ferdowsi-shenâsi (Tehran, 1993).

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he was admirably suited to create an epic version of what Vassâf had written in prose. In this case, the optical presentation of the autograph (see the facsimile edition mentioned earlier) spells out the above analogy graphically, as it has Mostowfi’s text (the Zafar-nâme) as the center piece and Ferdowsi’s Shâh-nâme in the margins. The reader has thus been given the bifocal luxury of a synoptic view of Persian history: Time past (Ferdowsi) and time from past to present (Mostowfi). Surveying these important historiographical texts from the period of Mongol rule over Iran, we see that at that time historiography came to be used as a ready tool for transporting political and ideological concepts to something like a “public” sphere. It is difficult to judge about the size and dimensions of this public sphere, but it must have come into existence around 1300, also outside of the immediate sphere of the royal court. The intention may have been to convince the local and original part of the Iranian population to accept the newcomers, Mongols and their Central Asian—mainly Turkish—companions, and particularly their élites as integral parts of the Iranian society. Mongol rule should under no condition be understood as foreign rule, the Ilkhanid kings should be understood as authentic “kings of Iran” and as legitimate Muslim rulers (pâdshâhân‑e Irân va Eslâm). Mostowfi in particular followed this concept of pro-Ilkhanid historicism with utmost consistency, as demonstrated by his Nozhat al-qolub. Until the 13 th century, geographical treatises from the eastern part of the Islamic world were seldom written in Persian. Texts like Hodud al-âlam (Borders of the World) or the so-called Fârs-nâme (Book on Fars/Persia) by Ebn-al-Balkhi, both written in Persian, were rather rare examples of this genre. In the case of Hamd-Allâh Mostowfi, the conditions have already been discussed. Persian had definitely turned out to be the leading language not only in literature but also in administration, in courtly and non-courtly life, in urban contexts, and furthermore as a connecting lingua franca far beyond the territory of Persian speakers at that time. The Nozhat al-qolub contained a systematic overview of the provinces that once belonged to the Sasanian Empire and hence should be considered together in order to be ruled by the Sasanians’ self-appointed 315

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“natural” successors—the Mongol Ilkhâns. In the following generations and centuries, these genres of historiography would continue to serve as media of dynastic and other claims for legitimacy of princely rule.65 The above-mentioned Ilkhanid concepts concerning legitimacy in defining Iranian and non-Iranian lands, were not at all acceptable to the ulus Chaghatay, particularly in the case of Iran’s eastern territories. The main point of dissent concerned the large province of Khorasan. A brief retrospective look at history may help to clarify the problem: In the early phases of the Sasanian Empire, probably still in the 3 rd century, a number of provinces and areas that had been established already in antiquity were unified in order to form a large administrative, fiscal, and military unit, which was created from the traditional provinces Hyrcania (Gorgan) down to Nishapur and Tus, Margiana (Marv), Ariana (Herat), and Bactria (Balkh). The river Oxus (Amu-Daryâ) was perceived as the north-eastern border of this territory and, in due course, also as the north-­eastern border of the Sasanian Empire. Under the conditions prevailing after the Muslim conquest and especially from the 8 th century onwards, the territorial expansion of the caliphate was led far to the north, and the ancient lands of Soghdia, Khwârazm, and Farghâna were incorporated in the dâr al-Eslâm. As an effect of this process, the Oxus was not anymore perceived as a separating line (as this was the case in Sasanian times) but as a connecting line. Transoxiana, i. e. ancient Sogdia, was, in the times of the caliphate, an additional part of the Muslim territory, in close neighborhood to Khorasan and sometimes imagined even as a part of Khorasan. The Ilkhânid concept of revitalizing Sasanian Iran in territory did not accept the idea of a closer connection between Khorasan and Transoxiana. To them, Khorasan belonged to their own realm, and Transoxiana was perceived as being part of the ulus Chaghatay. It goes without saying that the Chaghatay claimed Transoxiana as their own heartland, but they also laid claims on Khorasan (or at least the greater part of it), and there was therefore permanent 65 Fragner, “The Concept of Regionalism,” pp. 341–54.

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dissent between the Ilkhans—and later on among their successors— and those who followed Chaghatay views—a dissent that caused permanent warfare between those ruling in Transoxiana and those who claimed Khorasan to be an integral part of Iran. The most ardent representative of the Chaghatay concept was a famous conqueror who himself was not of immediate Chengisid descent but who claimed the Chaghatay heartlands to be the nucleus of a brand-new empire created by himself: Timur the conqueror. To him, the conquest of Khorasan, and subsequently of Iran, signified the reunification of Transoxiana with what had been part of it since early Islam, i. e., Khorasan. Timur and his successors also relied strongly on historicist legitimization of their rule. For them, Ferdowsi’s concept of “Iran and Turan” gained great importance, and with reference to Ferdowsi’s Shâh-nâme they claimed to be the “Lords of Iran and Turan” or of “Turan and Iran,” according to their mood. It is therefore not at all by chance that Timur’s successors insisted to be as fervent admirers of the Shâh-nâme as the Ilkhans had been before them. Not only was a new textual redaction of Ferdowsi’s great poem organized under Timurid rule, but already under Timur the poet Hâtefi (d. 1521) was ordered to compose his Timur-nâme in the style of the Shâh-nâme. Subsequently, in the early 14 th century, two chronicles of Timur’s conquests and victories were produced. They were both entitled Zafar-nâme (one written by a certain Ali Yazdi, the other by Nezâm-al-Din Shâmi) and undeniably indebted to Hamd-Allâh Mostowfi’s Zafar-nâme. The topographical argument by Hamd-Allâh Mostowfi in favor of the Ilkhanid concept of Iran found also a parallel in a great geographical essay on Khorasan by Hâfez Abru, who wrote his voluminous treatise clearly with Hamd-Allâh’s concept of Iran (Irân-zamin, as he called it) in mind.66 It may be added that more than two hundred years later an Iranian emigrant to Mughal India, a certain Mohammad Mofid 66 Hâfez‑e Abru, Târikh (or Joghrâfiyâ), part ed., tr. and comm., Dorothea Krawulsky as Ḫorāsān zur Timuridenzeit: nach dem Tārīḫ-e Ḥāfeẓ-e Abrū (verf. 817–823 h.) des Nūrallāh ʿAbdallāh b. Luṭfallāh al-Ḫvāfī genannt Ḥāfeẓ-e Abrū, (2 vols., Wiesbaden, 1982–84).

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Mostowfi Bâfqi (also a tax-assessor by profession), wrote a treatise similar to Hamd-Allâh Mostowfi’s, in which he tried to find rational and “scholarly” arguments for his own homesickness for his home-country of Iran.67 The above discussion has focused on ideological and territorial sub-texts of the historiography of the period, excluding other important features that deserve to be mentioned. For example, among other aspects of his voluminous output, Rashid-al-Din strongly emphasized the aspect of memoir writing in the style we have already examined in the cases of chroniclers like Beyhaqi and Râvandi. In his already mentioned reports concerning the lives of the Ilkhans after Hulegu, the founder of the Chengisid dynasty in Iran, as well as when delving into his own personality, he uses a very straight and direct style of expression. He refrains almost totally from any kind of stylistic exaggerations and describes the rulers and the leading figures in a rather naturalistic if not to say blunt manner. He had an important share in paving the way for fostering the personal memory of an author as a very distinct and important element in the further tradition of Persian historical writing. This does not mean that parallel to Rashid-al-Din’s rather sober style there were not at all times also texts produced in rich metaphorical and ornate styles, but particularly from Rashid-al-Din onward matter-of-fact reporting became more frequent.

5. From the Timurid Period to the 19 th Century During the Timurid era, the tradition of writing universal histories in the manner of Tabari was continued and even further strengthened. In this connection, there are two important chronicle-­writers: Mohammad b. Khâvandshâh Mirkhwând (1433–98)68 and his 67 Mohammad-Mofid Mostowfi Bâfqi, Jâme’-e Mofidi, ed. Iraj Afshâr (3 vols., 2 nd ed., Tehran, 2005). 68 Mohammad b. Khwâvandshâh b. Mahmud Mirkhwând, Târikh‑e Rowzat al-safâ fi sirat al-anbiyâ va’l-moluk va’l-kholafâ, ed. Jamshid Kiyânfar (7 vols. in 11, Tehran, 2001).

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grandson Ghiyâth-al-Din Mohammad Khwândamir (1475–1537).69 They were eminent bureaucrats attached to the entourage of Mir Ali-Shir Navâ’i, the famous advisor and minister to the Timurid ruler Soltân-Hoseyn Bâyqarâ (1468–1506). Under the latter’s reign, Herat was transformed into one of the great metropolitan centers of the Middle East, and the two are regarded as the most prominent representatives of what became known later as the Herati school of chronicle-writing. Following Navâ’i’s incentive, Mirkhwând started compiling his magnum opus Rowzat al-safâ fi sirat al-­ anbiyâ va’l-moluk va’l-kholafâ (Garden of Purity Containing the Lives of the Prophets, the Kings, and the Caliphs), a voluminous record of historical events from the earliest pre-Islamic Iranian kings down to his lifetime, and even beyond; for after his death, his grandson continued this report as far as the year 1523. The title of Mirkhwând’s lengthy chronicle alludes to that of Tabari’s history. Both Mirkhwând and Khwândamir spent their heydays at the Timurid court in the Khorasanian city of Herat, and their chronicles resemble much more Tabari’s model than the artistic literary constructions of Joveyni and Vassâf. Thus Khwândamir wrote his own chronicle, entitled Habib al-siyar (Friend of Biographies) in close similarity to the Rowzat al-safâ. Both contain huge amounts of information but lack the momentum of individualism and personal perspective which is so striking in many other cases. As far as the literary style of both Mirkhwând and his grandson is concerned, it is evident that they aimed at following the ornate and florid style adopted by Vassâf more than a century earlier. Moreover, it was probably the attraction of this stylistic model that as late as in the 19 th century motivated a prominent politician and homme de lettres of his time, Rezâ-Qolî Khân Hedâyat (1215–88/1800–1871),70 to 69 Ghiyâth-al-Din b. Homâm-al-Din Khwândamir, Târikh‑e Habib al-siyar fi akhbâr afrâd bashar, ed. Jalâl al-Din Homâ’i (4 vols., Tehran, 2001); Philip Bockholt, “Weltgeschichtsschreibung zwischen Schia und Sunna: Ḫvāndamīrs (gest. 1535/6) Ḥabib as-siyar und seine Rezeption im Handschriftenzeitalter” (Ph. D. diss., Freie Universität Berlin, 2018; publication forthcoming, 2020). 70 Cf. Rypka, Iranische Literaturgeschichte, pp. 325–27; John E. Woods, “The Rise of Timurid Historiography,” JNES 46 (1987), pp. 81–107.

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conceive a voluminous continuation of Mirkhwând’s Rowzat alsafâ, more than three hundred years after Khwândamir’s hitherto last volume, written after his grandfather’s death. Zeyn al-Din Vâsefi, a significant writer at the court of the Sheybâni rulers of the Uzbek empire in Transoxiana in the 16 th century, deserves a mention in this context. His Badâye’ al- vaqâye’ (Strange Happenings) is almost unique in the field of individualist memoir writing from pre-modern times.71 He refers frequently to otherwise rather sensitive themes in his report: princely illiteracy (or, at least, want of a literary education), political ignorance, sexual preferences and behavior among high courtly officials, and boundless intrigues and corruption among the top layers of the political establishment. His opus contains an almost never-ending outpouring of stories and anecdotes referring to such topics. He is a fascinating raconteur weaving dare-devil tales in the manner of ayyâr-nâmes (“books of crafty tricksters”) and so called maqâmât with straight historical narration. Roughly at the same time Fazl-Allâh b. Ruzbehân Khonji, a Sunni refugee from Safavid Iran to Sheybânid Bukhara, wrote his Mehmân-nâme-ye Bokhârâ (Book of a Guest to Bukhara)72 with a similar intention of story-telling, however with a critical but less satirical attitude. Another writer who was also strongly influenced by this tradition and wrote a celebrated text in Chaghatay Turkish rather than in Persian was Zahir-al-Din Bâbor, the Timurid prince who had left Transoxiana defeated and in despair together with some of his companions but eventually became the founder of the Mughal imperial dynasty in India. His Bâbor-nâme bears all the hallmarks of the kind of memoir writing that had come into existence within the frame of Persian historiography.73 This specific manner of Persian historical writing had its impact not only on other languages than Persian, as in the above example 71 Zeyn-al-Din Mahmud Vâsefi, Badâye’ al-vaqâye’, ed. Aleksandr Boldyrev (Tehran, 1971). 72 Fazl-Allâh b. Ruzbehân Khonji-Esfahâni, Mehmân-nâme-ye Bokhârâ, ed. Manuchehr Sotude (Tehran, 1952). 73 Bâbor, Bâbor-nâme, ed. and tr. Wheeler M. Thackston as The Baburnama: Memoirs of Babur, Prince and Emperor (New York and Oxford, 1996).

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of the Bâbor-nâme, but also in regions outside of the traditional Persian-speaking territory. Roughly around the year 1700, a Hindu from India named Bhimsen Saksena wrote a Persian chronicle entitled Târikh‑e delgoshâ (Heart-warming History).74 Following the publication of an English translation of this text in the early 1970 s, the idiosyncratic character of the author’s surprisingly personal account of the Mughal emperor’s Aurangzêb (1618–1707) warfare was immediately interpreted by Indian scholars and experts in cultural history of early modern India as an indication of an early case of individualization in the cultural development of the Indian society. Bhimsen’s chronicle appears, however, to have been influenced by the individualist tradition in Persian chronicle writing, a connection and an indebtedness which seems to have been lost on those who had stressed its novelty, perhaps through their own lack of familiarity with Persian chronicles. From the point of view of historiography, the Safavid period (1502–1722), given its exceptional significance in the political history of Iran, deserves particular attention. As a result of the military victory of a mainly Turkmen tribal confederation originating from Eastern Anatolia and Azerbaijan, the territories of Iran, as they had been defined under the Mongol Il-Khans, were again united under the new rulers within a period of not more than ten or fifteen years. The denomination “Safavi” refers to these tribes’ leading elite, whose members were not of tribal origin themselves but functioned as religious and spiritual leaders in both a mystic and a radical Shi’ite sense. In the long run, their efforts brought about the conversion of the majority of the inhabitants of the Iranian lands to the Twelver-Shi’ite confession. In close connection with dynastic and court politics, new styles of historiography came into existence. Up to the 1970 s, Safavid historiography and the study of sources of Safavid history in general were rather marginal subjects in historical research concerning Iran. Since then, the situation has changed radically. Structural considerations concerning textual and literary 74 V. G. Khobrekar, ed. and tr., English Translation of Tarikh-i-Dilkasha (Memoirs of Bhimsen relating to Aurangzib’s Deccan Campaigns) (Bombay, 1972).

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aspects of Safavid chronicle writing characterize Sholeh Quinn’s pioneering studies on chronicles from the period of Shah Abbâs I (1581–1628).75 The more recent study by Tilmann Trausch focuses mainly on the formative period of Safavid chronicle-writing. Its author treats most aspects of the development of this genre throughout the 16 th century.76 He traces two main schools in history-writing in the 16 th century: one perpetuating the traditions of the Timurid court in 15 th century Herat, and the other, which he calls the “school of Qazvin,” follows the tradition of the west Iranian and eastern Anatolian Turkmen dynasties of the so-called Qara-Qoyunlu and Aq-Qoyunlu (the latter having been replaced by the Safavids). Those writing within the Herati tradition follow the model of Mirkhwând and Khwândamir and strive to arrange history as a full and rounded report on processes in which every event gets its special position. On the other hand, the less traditional Qazvini authors present a rather unsystematic approach to events and stories and mostly refrain from excessively artificial phrasing and ornate diction. As a typical example of the Qazvini chronicle-writing, one may mention Qâzi Ahmad Qomi and his Kholâsat al-tavârikh (Summary of Histories).77 He offers a moving and almost Shakespearian account of the execution of Shah Tahmâsp’s brothers—Sâm Mirzâ, Alqâs, and others—at the Qahqahe castle on the explicit orders of the shah himself. Under the reign of the already mentioned Shâh Abbâs I, the state developed imperial traits, and the self-representation of the leading layers of the social structure as imperial leaders should not be ignored.78 Within this rather open frame between the story-telling attitudes which 75 Sholeh Quinn, Historical Writing During the Reign of Shah ‘Abbas: Ideology, Imitation and Legitimacy in Safavid Chronicles (Salt Lake City, 2000); idem, “Historiography vi. The Safavid Period,” in EIr, XII, pp. 363–67. 76 Tilmann Trausch, Formen höfischer Historiographie im 16. Jahrhundert. Geschichtsschreibung unter den frühen Safaviden: 1501–157 (Vienna, 2015). On the popular genre of Safavid historiography, see Barry Wood, ed. and tr., The Adventures of Shāh Esmā’il: A Seventeenth Century Persian Prose Romance (Leiden and Boston, 2018) 77 Qâzi Ahmad b. Sharaf-al-Din Hoseyn-al-Hoseyni Qomi, Kholâsat al-tavârikh, ed. Ehsân Eshrâqi (Tehran, 2004). 78 Rudi Matthee, “Was Safavid Iran an Empire?,” JESHO 53 (2010), pp. 233–65.

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originated from the Western (Qazvini) tradition and the highly refined and stylistically imposing Herati habits, Safavid historiography established itself as a specific genre of high differentiation and a wealth of varieties which can be understood as a particular kind of literary historiographical tradition. Nevertheless, more ancient styles and traditions survived even after the end of Safavid rule: A certain Mahdi Khân follows in the middle of the 18 th century the traditions of Mirkhwând and Vassâf by writing his Târikh‑e jahângoshây‑e Nâderi (History of Nâder, the World Conqueror) as well as his Dorreh-ye nâdere (Rare Pearl) while in the service of Nâder Shah (1688–1747). At roughly the same time other writers surmise that the time of ornate and floridly crafted prose literature might have already served its time.79 In some cases, it is difficult to define the character of given texts. If we consider the famous text Târikh‑e ahvâl bâ tadhkere-ye khod (A History of Current Events with an Account of the Life of the Author Himself) of Sheykh Hazin (Mohammad b. Abi-Tâleb Gilâni),80 a Persian who had lived in Mughal India and returned to his hometown Isfahan in the thirties of the 18 th century after the break-up of Safavid rule, it is not at all clear whether his lament on post-Safavid conditions should be regarded as historiography or as a piece of memoir-writing. Another and very convincing example of this structural blend of memoir-writing and historical account of facts and events is a wellknown chronicle written by the Shiraz-born descendant of a family of high officials and administrators dating back to Safavid times who died in the 1830 s. His name was Mohammad Hâshem, nicknamed Rostam-al-Hokamâ, and his târîkh was aptly and ironically called Rostam at-tavârîkh (The Rostam of Histories; or perhaps The Hercules of Histories!).81 It is difficult to decide whether this 79 Rypka, Iranische Literaturgeschichte, p. 293. 80 Bert G. Fragner, Persische Memoirenliteratur als Quelle zur neueren Geschichte Irans (Wiesbaden, 1979), p. 11. 81 Birgitt Hoffmann, Persische Geschichte 1694–1835 erlebt, erinnert und erfunden: Das Rustam at-tawārīḫ in deutscher Bearbeitung (2 vols., Berlin, 1986); Abbâs Milâni, “Rostam-at-tavârikh va mas’ale-ye tajaddod,” Majalle-­ye Irân-shenâsi 8/2 (1996), pp. 237–65.

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text should be regarded as one of the last traditional and pre-modern texts in the genre of Persian historiography or as one of the first modern historiographical works of Persian prose literature. Mohammad Hâshem offers a wide range of memories from his own family and his youth, furthermore referring to his own political views through which he aimed at influencing Fath-Ali Shah and his court functionaries. He describes historical events and conditions in an extremely lively manner and in many cases he does not hesitate to indulge in bawdy and obscene descriptions, clearly with the intention of entertaining his audience. One may wonder whether his famous description of the erotic entertainments that he ascribes to the last Safavid Shah, SoltânHoseyn, might not have been an allusion to the reported sexual proclivities of Fath-Ali Shah himself. Raising the temperature higher, he depicts far more exaggerated scenes of decadence: such as Soltân-Hoseyn’s springtime visitation to the royal gardens, accompanied by 5,000 members of his harem, beauties, and eunuchs alike, and ordering numerous donkeys of both sexes to be brought forward so that they could enjoy watching them mount each other, becoming themselves ecstatic at the sight to the extent that the entire company would swoon and faint in sheer delight (p. 107). Here we have an Obeyd‑e Zâkâni-like satirical account of the Decline and Fall of the Safavid Empire. When describing living conditions in his home-town in his lifetime, Mohammad Hâshem provides detailed price-lists from the regulated bazaars of Shiraz. He writes about architectural activities in the city and, above all, he gives equally detailed reports on the most popular prostitutes in Shirazi brothels and their particular talents and skills. In the same vein, he argues about the image of the newly founded Qajar dynasty of Iranian rulers, the first of whom was castrated, and the second, Fath-Ali Shah, therefore expected to father a greater number of princes and princesses in order to compensate for the lack of dynastic fertility in the family’s first generation. He strongly advises the shah and his establishment not to rely solely on the fame of the ruling clans of the Qajar tribe. Against such a strategy, he proposes that the Qajars should include female links in their descent, which could indicate that they were also of 324

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Safavid origin. Moreover, he applied this concept retrospectively to the Safavids, by means of which he could prove them as more or less indirect descendants of the Timurids. What he had obviously in mind was to nurture Fath-Ali Shah’s affection through the great historical and already mythical figure of the conqueror Timur with whom Fath-Ali Shah liked to compare himself. Timur’s famous epithet Sâheb-qerân, found on Fath-Ali Shah’s coins and seals, is a clear evidence of this. Anyway, from these considerations Mohammad Hâshem draws the conclusion that the Qajars should present themselves to the public as qâjâr‑e safavi-ye timuri rather than merely as qâjâr—the reference to earlier dynasties should enhance the public fame of the new royal family. For a while this theme turned out to become a matter of debate, but in the long run the Qajars did not follow Mohammad Hâshem’s rather bizarre advice. His book is anyway brimful of strange stories and ideas, fascinating reports, and extremely idiosyncratic aspects. This leads to another point which was mentioned at the outset of this chapter: Many modern studies concerning Persian historiography and chronicle-writing strongly stress the phenomenon of patronage, aiming to demonstrate that these authors were, altogether, closely bound to their patrons and therefore far from ideologically independent. Without dwelling on the possibility that present-day critics holding such views might have been themselves swayed by Kantian or Protestant ethical ruminations, one should at least question the validity of their assertions against the available evidence. It should be noted that throughout the centuries the category of rulers was generally not held in high esteem among chronicle-writers. Often, they employed sharp wit, satire, and criticism of rulers whose lives and deeds they describe. With this goes with the proviso that they also avoided such blatant criticism when it came to the kings or princes of their own time, but this is hardly surprising. As a rule, already the fathers, let alone the forefathers, of these potentates, were seldom protected against the satirical intentions of historians. We recall Râvandi, who described cases of unwise political behavior of many Saljuq rulers, the most prominent among them being the third Great Saljuq ruler Malekshâh. He did not hesitate to present Qezel Arslân, one of the Ildegüzid 325

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Atabegs in Azerbaijan in the author’s lifetime, as a demented figure. Joveyni remained somewhat lukewarm and restrained in his admiration for Chengis Khan, and Rashid-al-Din was very outspoken when he wrote about some Ilkhanid rulers’ inclination towards non-Islamicate traditions and fashions that had originated from India or China, i. e. definitely from outside the dâr al-Eslâm. His above-mentioned cynical Galenic-based criticism of tantric medical treatments that had originated from India and prized by the Mongol rulers of Iran is a case in point. Mohammad Hâshem brought this tradition to a late culmination. The same phenomenon can be traced in Persian chronicles from Central Asia: In his above-mentioned collection of mirabilia, Badâye’ al-vaqâye’, the late post-Timurid chronicle-writer Zeynal-Din Mahmud Vâsefi gives a hilarious account of the stupidity of the Timurid ruler Abu-Sa’id, criticizing his lack of understanding of Persian poetry. Three centuries later, in the second half of the 19 th century, the Bukharan adib Ahmad-Makhdum Dânesh (1827– 97) wrote a book named Navâder al-vaqâye’ (Rare Happenings), which was clearly intended as an allusion to Vâsefi’s model that had enjoyed high literary esteem all over Central Asia.82 Dânesh too was not interested in poking fun at long forgotten dynasties: He focused mainly on the ruling house of the Manghit amirs of Uzbek origin in his home country, the emirate of Bukhara. In this book, and also in his “Short History of the Manghit Dynasty,”83 he does not hesitate in unmasking his rulers as mostly incompetent, stupid, and even sinful characters. A well-known 20 th-­century Central Asian author, the famous Tajik writer Sadriddîn Aynî (Sadr-­ al-Din Eyni; d. 1954), who in his early youth saw himself as an indirect pupil of Dânesh, followed this tradition in his own early 82 Ahmad-Makhdum Dânesh (Ahmadi Donish), Navâder al-vaqâye’ (Navodir al-vaqoi’), ed. Rasul Hodizoda (2 vols., Dushanbe, 1988–89). There is a recent analytic study on this and on comparable texts from late 19 th century Bokhara by Franz Wennberg, On the Edge: The Concept of Progress in Bukhara during the Rule of the Later Manghits (Uppsala, 2013). 83 Ahmad-Makhdum Dânesh, Resâle yâ mokhtasari az târikh‑e khânedân‑e Manghitiye (Stalinabad, 1960).

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historiographical writings, in Persian (or “Tajik”) and Turkic (Uzbek) language as well.84

6. Concluding Remarks Let us return once more to Rashid-al-Din and Vassâf, the two eminent historians of the Mongol period (first half of the 14 th century). While it is generally agreed that Rashid-al-Din Fazl-Allâh adhered to a rather simple style of writing, for Vassâf the opposite is true. This difference leads us to a wider quest for stylistic development of Persian prose literature, and we have to return to Bahâr’s statements on this subject: As with Persian poetry, Bahâr assumed that prose writing had also gone through an evolution from plain styles of writing in the earliest periods of New Persian literature, resembling what he (in analogy with classical authors of tadhkere-­ collections) called the “Khorasani” style. In contrast to this simple and direct way of writing prosaic texts, in the western parts of Iran the so-called “Erâqi” style came step by step into existence (according to Bahâr). In analogy with Erâqi poetry, Erâqi prose writing may also have donned a rhetorically more ornate garb, instigated by a stronger desire for “literarization” of prosaic texts. Anyway, there are examples both of stylistically rather balanced texts and, contrary to that, stilted and highly artificial textual productions. Early examples of “elegant” and “artistically superior” texts are, for example, Nezâmi Aruzi’s Chahâr maqâle (Four Treatises), the even earlier anonymous Tarjome-ye tafsir‑e Tabari (the [nota bene Persian] adaptation of Tabari’s commentary on the Qur’an) and, in the realm of historiography, the Târikh‑e Beyhaqi, and according to Bahâr, the Târikh‑e Sistân and the ­Mojmal al-tavârikh va’l-­ qesas, and furthermore, mainly in the realm of didactic and ethical writing, various Mirrors for Princes, and above all the famous 84 Sadriddîn Aynî (Sadr-al-Din Eyni), Ta’rīkhi amīroni manghītiyai Bukhoro (Târikh‑e amirân‑e Manghitiyye-ye Bokhârâ), in his Kulliyot (Kolliyât) (14 vols., Dushanbe, 1966), X, pp. 7–191.

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Marzbân-nâme, and a number of collections of various stories, conceived for entertainment or rather for ethical instruction. As far as the chronicle-writer Vassâf is concerned, he provides a striking example of generally accepted high literary quality in the case of historical writing. Describing the history of the dynasty of the Mongol rulers on the Iranian soil, Vassâf made the decision not only to present the content of his chronicle as a programmatically and politically highly informative text but also as a unique work in terms of stylistic refinement and rhetorical flourish. The quantitative relation between stylistic elements and such of factual account and report is uneven. Nevertheless, this should not be misunderstood in the sense that Vassâf would have had nothing to say. In an ideological sense, he was definitely as qualified as Hamd-Allâh Mostowfi; but in the field of stylistic “elegance” (in accordance with the literary taste and norms of his life-time) Vassâf remained peerless. The Târikh‑e Vassâf therefore belongs to the category of Persian prose texts that were copied and re-written frequently, not because of their inherent historical content, but owing to their unique literary and stylistic presentation. This circumstance led to a situation where, roughly a century and a half later, monumental chronicles came into existence under Timurid dominance. Mirkhwând and Khwândamir wrote their massive multi-volume chronicles imitating Tabari’s original concept to write an all-encompassing text including cosmogonic considerations, the prophets, and finally the political history of the world in the sense with which the authors were familiar. Thanks to Vassâf, historiography offered a stable ground for artistically and rhetorically high-caliber literature, not anymore being restricted to simple, practical means of information. This literary aspect of historiography turned into very fertile ground in the following centuries, as far as the 19 th century. Vâsefi, the great memorialist, was under the strong stylistic influence of this tendency, and Mohammad Hâshem from Shirâz was also not free from such literary inclination. Vassâf seems to have had less impact on historiographical writing under the Safavids and the case was similar in the 18 th century, but this tendency returned in the middle of the 19 th century in Iran, and even later in Central Asia. Persian historiography 328

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from the Indian subcontinent, and particularly chronicles from the Mughal Empire, were also heavily influenced by Vassâf’s style. It was not by mere chance that the first lithographed edition of Vassâf’s chronicle was published on Indian soil (like so many other Persian manuscripts, however). Since the late 19 th century, even among Persophone users of historiographical texts, Vassâf’s chronicle gradually became perceived as rather difficult to read in terms of understanding the factual content of the text as opposed to enjoying its stylistic value.85 In summing up the above survey, it appears in retrospective that the characteristics of historiography in Persian and in Ara­bic started to develop in different ways at an early stage. While Ara­ bic historical writing assumed a much more scholarly attitude and was closely related to elm al-hadith, Persian historiography, since the very beginning of this genre, followed a much more literary concept aiming rather at intellectual entertainment than at documentation and reportage. Its approach toward historical writing was far more influenced by epic and narrative traditions originating in pre-Islamic Iranian sources. Writing and reading history in the Persian language cannot therefore be set apart from the development of literature and literary trends in Persian. This meant that Persian historiographical writing in the course of time turned out 85 Joseph von Hammer-Purgstall (d. 1856) translated the text into German in five volumes. The first volume was published just before his death. The remaining four volumes surfaced again roughly 120 years later, when a librarian at the Austrian Academy of Sciences discovered copies of Hammer-Purgstall’s handwritten translations that had been typewritten, probably in the 1960 s. Currently, Sibylle Wentker has been editing these typescripts for publication; see Sibylle Wentker, ed., Geschichte Wassaf ’s: Deutsch übersetzt von Hammer-Purgstall (3 vols., Vienna, 2010–12). Also, an autograph copy of the fourth volume of Vassâf’s chronicle was discovered in Turkey and published in facsimile: See now Abd-Allâh b. Fazl-Allâh Vassâf al-Hazrat, Tajziyat al-amsâr va tazjiyat al-a’sâr, ed. Iraj Afshâr, Mahmud Ommid-Sâlâr, Nâder Mottalebi-Kâshâni, et. al. (Tehran 2009); Judith Pfeiffer, “‘A Turgid History of the Mongol Empire in Persia’: Epistemological Reflections Concerning a Critical Edition of Vaṣṣāf’s Tajziyat al-amṣār va-tazjiyat al-aʿṣār,” in Judith Pfeiffer and Manfred Kropp, eds., Theoretical Approaches to the Transmission and Edition of Oriental Manuscripts (Würzburg 2007), pp. 107–79.

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to provide a fertile ground for individualist and memory-based autobiographical approaches. This is corroborated by the fact that some Persian historical works were conceived of as important contributions to belletrist literature, and were regarded as such not only by Iranians but in all regions where Persian was accepted as a linguistic means of conveying literary values. In some periods this region, where Persian was the language of preference, covered a vast area, from Bosnia in the Balkans across to Inner Asia and down to the coasts of the Gulf of Bengal. Another peculiarity of Persian historiography is the fact that we have to include a number of works of historical—heroic—epic poetry within this genre too. Particular attention must be paid in this respect to Ferdowsi’s Shâh-nâme; neglecting the importance of Ferdowsi would make it difficult to study the literary dimensions of historical writing in Persian in their true perspective. It is also interesting to recall the contrast between Ottoman and Persian historiography in the pre-modern period. Ottoman historiography was thoroughly attached to the Ottoman dynasty, an imperial house that ruled for more than six centuries. On Iranian and adjacent soils, we do not find any dynastic structures of comparable duration. This is one of the reasons for the strict limitation of Ottoman chronicle-writing to Ottoman affairs, even when a period of long duration was being treated. By contrast, it is hardly surprising that particularly during the centuries following the Timurid period, from the Safavids to the Qajars, we find in Iranian historiography ample examples of a wide variety of historiographical genres. Since the advent of Islam in Iran, no other dynasty has ruled as long as the Safavids (1502–1722). The Safavids started as the immediate successors of the Aq-Qoyunlu dynasty of Turkmen origin in Eastern Anatolia and Western Iran (roughly as far as the meridian between Isfahan and Yazd). In the early 16 th century, they maintained the rather provincial traditions of chronicle-writing which they had inherited from their Anatolian and west-Iranian forerunners. With the incorporation of eastern Iran (Khorasan) and its capital Herat, the Safavids gradually adopted the style of chronicle-writing practiced at the Timurid court. It is interesting 330

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to compare two chronicles both written by historians of Turkmen tribal origin: Hasan Rumlu continued in his Ahsan al-tavârikh (The Most Beautiful of Histories) a rather simple and direct style of reporting historical events, concentrating on the periods of the Aq-Qoyunlu rulers and the beginning of the Safavid dynasty (15 th and earliest 16 th centuries).86 In stark contrast to him stands, a century later, Eskandar Monshi “Torkamân” with his important Târikh‑e âlam-ârâ-ye Abbâsi (Abbasian World-adorning History), devoted to the ruling period of the most famous Safavid king, Abbâs I (“the Great”). Eskandar Monshi had clearly absorbed important constraints of the former Timurid manner of chronicle-writing, in many cases found to be characteristic for the so-called “Herâti school” of chronicle-writing, while others adhered rather to the “Tabriz school” according to which authors wrote in a much more practical and less embellished and ornate style than those having been ascribed to the Herati traditions.87 Perhaps the relative temporal instability of ruling houses in the Persophone world was, among other elements, a reason for the fact that the Persian historians’ respect towards ruling dynasties was definitely limited, though by no means nonexistent. Furthermore, it should be noted that dynastic histories usually included some account of the fall of the previous dynasty. This has not changed even in modern times: Writing about the Pahlavis starts with describing the decline of the Qajars, and any study concerning the Islamic Republic will start with the fall of the Pahlavis. In the view of most Persian historiographers, individual and dynastic rule are tightly bound. This underlying assumption is not necessarily predicated on theological or philosophical considerations so much as the result of collective and professional experience and memory.

86 Hasan Bêg Rumlu, Ahsan al-tavârikh, ed. Abd-al-Hoseyn Navâ’i (Tehran, 2005). 87 Quinn, Historical Writing During the Reign of Shah ‛Abbas; idem, “Notes on Timurid Legitimacy in Three Safavid Chronicles,” IrSt 31/2 (1998), pp. 149–58.

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LITERARY ASPECTS OF PERSIAN HISTORIOGRAPHY Conermann, Stephan. Historiographie als Sinnstiftung: Indo-persische Geschichtsschreibung während der Mogulzeit (932–1118/1516–1707). Wiesbaden, 2002. Dânesh, Aḥmad-Makhdum (Ahmadi Donish). Navâder al-vaqâye’ (Navodir al-vaqoi’). Ed. Rasul Hodizoda. 2 vols. Dushanbe, 1988–89. ­—. Resâle yâ mokhtaṣri az târikh‑e khânedân‑e Manghitiyye. Stalinabad, 1960. Denecke, Wiebke. Classical World Literatures: Sino-Japanese and Greco-Roman Comparisons. Oxford, 2013. Ebn-al-Athir, ʿEzz-al-Din Abu’l-Ḥasan ʿAli. Ketâb al-kâmel fi’l-ta’rikh. Ed. C. J. Tornberg as Chronicon quod perfectissimum inscribitur. 12 vols. Leiden 1851–76. Ebn-Bibi, Nāṣer-al-Din Ḥoseyn. al-Avâmer al-ʿAlâʾ iye fi’l-omur alʿAlâʾ iye. Ed. Adnan Erzi as El-Evāmirü’l-ʿAlā’iyye fi’l-Umūri’lʿAlaʾ iyye. Ankara, 1957. Tr. and annot. Herbert W. Duda. Die Seltschukengeschichte des Ibn Bibi. Copenhagen, 1959. Ebn-Fondoq, Abu’l-Hasan ʿAli b. Zeyd Beyhaqi. Târikh‑e Beyhaq. Ed. A. Bahmanyâr. Tehran, 1929. Eskander Bêg Monshi Torkamân. Târikh‑e ʿ âlam-ârâ-ye ʿAbbâsi. Ed. Iraj Afshâr. Tehran, 1971. Tr. Roger M. Savory as History of Shah Abbas the Great. 3 vols. Boulder, Colo., 1978–87. Ethé, Herrmann. “Neupersische Literatur.” In W. Geiger and E. Kuhn, eds., Grundriss der Iranischen Philologie, 3 vols., Strassburg, 1896– 1904, I, pp. 212–368. Fragner, Bert G. Die Persophonie: Regionalität, Identität und Sprachkontakt in der Geschichte Asien. Berlin, 1999. —. “Historische Wurzeln neuzeitlicher iranischer Identität: zur Ge­ schichte des politischen Begriffs ‘Iran’ im späten Mittelalter und in der Neuzeit.” In Maria Macuch, Christa Müller-Kessler, and Bert G. Fragner, eds. Studia Semitica necnon Iranica Rudolpho Macuch septuagenario ab amicis et discipulis dedicata, Wiesbaden, 1989, pp. 79–100. (A short version of this article can be found in Gherardo Gnoli and Antonio Panaino, eds., Proceedings of the First European Conference of Iranian Studies, Part 2, Rome, 1990, pp. 365–76.) ­—. Persische Memoirenliteratur als Quelle zur neueren Geschichte Irans. Wiesbaden, 1979. ­—. “The Concept of Regionalism in Historical Research on Central Asia and Iran (A Macro-Historical Interpretation).” In Devin DeWeese, ed., Studies on Central Asian History in Honor of Yuri Bregel, Bloomington, 2001, pp. 341–54.

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PERSIAN PROSE ­—. “­ Vom iranischen Sozialrebellen zum sowjetischen Stalinpreis­träger: Eine multiple Biographie.” In SGMOIK Bulletin 8 (May 1999), pp. 4–10. Gelpke, Rudolf. Die iranische Prosaliteratur im 20. Jahrhundert, 1. Teil: Grundlagen und Voraussetzungen. Wiesbaden, 1962. Haarmann, Ulrich. “Alṭun Ḫān und Čingiz Ḫān bei den ägyptischen Mamluken.” Der Islam 51 (1974), pp. 1–36. ­—. “Auf‌lösung und Bewahrung der klassischen Formen arabischer Geschichtsschreibung in der Zeit der Mamluken.” ZDMG 121 (1971), pp. 46–60. Ḥâfeẓ‑e Abrû. Târikh (or Joghrâfiyâ). Part. ed., tr., and comm., Dorothea Krawulsky as Ḫorāsān zur Timuridenzeit: nach dem Tārīḫ-e Ḥāfeẓ-e Abrū (verf. 817–823 h.) des Nūrallāh ʿAbdallāh b. Luṭfallāh al-Ḫvāfī genannt Ḥāfeẓ-e Abrū.. 2 vols. Wiesbaden, 1982–84. Hardy, Peter. Review of Toward a Theory of Historical Narrative: A Case Study in Perso-Islamicate Historiography by Marilyn Robinson Waldman. History and Theory 20/3 (October 1981), pp. 334–44. Hodgson, Marshall G. S. The Venture of Islam. Conscience and History in a World Civilization. 3 vols. Chicago and London, 1974. Hoffmann, Birgitt. Persische Geschichte 1694–1835 erlebt, erinnert und erfunden: Das Rustam at-tawârīḫ in deutscher Bearbeitung. 2 vols. Berlin, 1986. ­—. Waqf im mongolischen Iran: Rašīduddīns Sorge um Nachruhm und Seelenheil. Stuttgart, 2000. ­—. “Wortkunst im Dienste der Welteroberer: Ein vergleichender Blick auf persische Gelehrte, Bürokraten und Dichter unter der mongolischen Ilkhanen.” In Markus Ritter et al., eds., Iran und iranisch geprägte Kulturen: Studien zum 65. Geburtstag von Bert G. Fragner, Wiesbaden, 2008, pp. 259–71. Humphreys, Stephen R. Islamic History: A Framework for Inquiry. Rev. ed. Princeton, 1991. Joveyni, ʿAlâʾ-al-Din Atâʾ-Malek. Târikh-e jahân-goshâ. Tr. John Andrew Boyle as History of the World Conqueror. 2 vols. Cambridge, 1958. Kalile va Demne. see Abu’l-Maʿâli Naṣr-Allâh Monshi. Khobrekar, V. G., ed. and tr. English Translation of Tarikh-i dilkasha (Memoirs of Bhimsen relating to Aurangzeb’s Deccan campaigns). Bombay, 1972. Khwândamir, Ghiyâth-al-Din b. Homâm-al-Din. Târikh‑e Ḥabib al-siyar fi akhbâr afrâd bashar. Ed. Jalâl al-Din Homâ’i. 4 vols. Repr. Tehran, 2001.

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LITERARY ASPECTS OF PERSIAN HISTORIOGRAPHY Khonji-Eṣfahâni, Fażl-Allâh b. Ruzbehân. Mehmân-nâme-ye Bokhârâ. Ed. Manuchehr Sotude. Tehran, 1974. Kubičková, Vĕra. “Die neupersische Literatur des 20. Jahrhunderts.” In Jan Rypka, Iranische Literaturgeschichte, Leipzig, 1959, pp. 341–82. Le Strange, Guy. The Lands of the Eastern Caliphate. London, 1905, repr. London, 1966. Lewis, Bernard and P. M. Holt. Historians of the Middle East. Oxford, 1962. Luther, Kenneth Allin: “Islamic Rhetoric and the Persian Historians, 1000–1300.” In James Bellamy, ed., Studies in Near Eastern Culture and History in Memory of Ernest T. Abdel-Massih, Ann Arbor, 1990, pp. 90–98. Matthee, Rudi. “Was Safavid Iran an Empire?” JESHO 53 (2010), pp. 233–65. Meisami, Julie Scott. “History as Literature.” IrSt 33/1–2 (2000), pp. 15–30. ­—. Persian Historiography: To the End of the Twelfth Century. Edinburgh, 1999. ­—. “Rulers and the Writers of History.” In Beatrice Gruendler and Louise Marlow, eds., Writers and Rulers: Perspectives on their Relationship from Abbasid to Safavid Times, Wiesbaden, 2004, pp. 73–95. ­—. “Why Write History in Persian? Historical Writing in the Samanid Period.” In Carole Hillenbrand, ed., Studies in Honour of Clifford Edmund Bosworth II: The Sultan’s Turret, Leiden, 2000, pp. 348–74. Melville, Charles. “Jāmeʿ al-tawārīḵ.” In EIr, XIV, pp. 462–68. Milâni, ʿAbbâs. “Rostam-at-tavârikh va mas’ale-ye tajaddod.” Majalle-ye Irân-shenâsi 8/2 (1996), pp. 237–65. Mirkhwând, Moḥammad b. Khwâvandshâh b. Maḥmud. Târikh‑e Rowżat al-ṣafâ fi sirat al-anbiyâ va’l-moluk va’l-kholafâ. Ed. Jamshid Kiyânfar. 7 vols. in 11. Tehran, 2001. Moḥammad-Mofid Mostowfi Bâfqi. Jâmeʿ-e Mofidi. Ed. Iraj Afshâr. 3 vols., 2 nd ed. Tehran, 2005. Mojmal-al-tavârikh va’l-qeṣaṣ. Ed. Moḥammad-Taqi Bahâr. Tehran, 1940. Mortażavi, Manuchehr. Masâʾel‑e ʿaṣr‑e Ilkhâniyân. 3 rd ed. Tehran, 2006. Mostowfi, Ḥamd-Allâh. Nozhat-al-qolub. Ed. and tr. Guy Le Strange as The Geographical Part of the Nuzhat-al-Qulūb. 2 vols. London, 1915–19. ­—. Zafar-nâme. Facs. ed. N. Purjavâdi and N. Rastgâr as Ẓafar-nâme-ye Ḥamd-Allâh Mostowfi be-enżemâm-e Shâh-nâme-ye Abu’l-Qâsem Ferdowsi (be taṣḥḥh-e Ḥamd-Allâh Mostowfi): châp-e aksi az ru-ye noskhe-ye khaṭṭi-ye movarrakh-e 807 hejri dar Ketâb-khâne-ye

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PERSIAN PROSE Beritâniyâ Or 2833 / Ẓafarnāma von Ḥamdullāh Mustaufi ̄ und Šāhnāma von Abu’l Qāsim Firdausī. 2 vols., Tehran and Vienna, 1999. Mottahedeh, Roy. “The Shu’ûbîyah Controversy and the Social History of Early Islamic Iran.” IJMES 7 (1976), pp. 168–82. Nafisi, Saʿid. Dar pirâmun‑e Târikh‑e Beyhaqi. 2 vols. Tehran, 1964. Najmabadi, Seyfeddin, ed. and comm. Mokhtaṣar‑e Mofîd des Moḥammad Mofîd Mostoufî. 2 vols. Wiesbaden, 1989–91. Narshakhi, Abu-Bakr Moḥammad b. Jaʿfar. Ketâb‑e târikh‑e Bokhârâ. Ed. Modarres Rażavi. Tehran, 1985. Neẓâm-al-Molk, Ḥasan b. ʿAli. Siyar al-moluk (Siyâsat-nâme). Ed. Maḥmud ʿÂbedi. Tehran, 2020. Neẓâmi ‛Arużi. Chahâr maqâleh. Ed. Moḥammad Qazvini. Cairo and Leiden, 1910. Pfeiffer, Judith. “  ‘A Turgid History of the Mongol Empire in Persia’: Epistemological Reflections Concerning a Critical Edition of Vaṣṣāf’s Tajziyat al-amṣār va-tazjiyat al-aʿṣār.” In Judith Pfeiffer and Manfred Kropp, eds., Theoretical Approaches to the Transmission and Edition of Oriental Manuscripts, Würzburg, 2007, pp. 107–79. Pistor-Hatam, Anja. Geschichtsschreibung und Sinngeschichte in Iran: Historische Erzählungen von mongolischer Eroberung und Herrschaft, 1933–2011. Leiden and Boston, 2014. Poliakova, E. A. “The Development of a Literary Canon in Medieval Persian Chronicles: The Triumph of Etiquette.” IrSt 17 (1984), pp. 237–56. Pratt, Mary Louise. Towards a Speech Act Theory of Literary Discourse. Bloomington, 1977. Qomi, Ḥasan b. Moḥammad b. Ḥasan. Ketâb‑e târikh‑e Qom. Tehran, 1935. Qomi, Najm-al-Din Abu’l-Rajâ’. Târikh al-vozarâ’, ed. M. T. Dâneshpazhuh. Tehran, 1985 (properly Dheyl‑e Nafthat al-maṣdur, ed. Ḥoseyn Modarresi Ṭabâṭabâ’i, Tehran, 2010). Qomi, Qâżi Aḥmad b. Sharaf-al-Din. Kholâṣat al-tavârikh, ed. Eḥsân Eshrâqi. Tehran. 2004. Quinn, Sholeh. Historical Writing During the Reign of Shah ‘Abbas: Ideology, Imitation and Legitimacy in Safavid Chronicles. Salt Lake City, 2002. ­—. “Historiography vi. The Safavid Period.” In EIr, XII, pp. 363–67. ­—. “Notes on Timurid Legitimacy in Three Safavid Chronicles.” IrSt 31/2 (1998), pp. 149–58. Rashid-al-Din Fażl-Allâh (Hamadâni). Jâmeʿ al-tavârikh. Ed. Moḥammad Rowshan. 4 vols. Tehran, 1994. Part. ed. and tr. Karl Jahn as

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LITERARY ASPECTS OF PERSIAN HISTORIOGRAPHY Geschichte Ġāzān-Ḫān’s aus dem Ta’riḫ-i-mubārak-i-Ġāzānī des Rašīd al-Dīn Faḍlallāh b. ʿImād al-Daula Abūl-Ḫair, London, 1940; Die Geschichte der Oġuzen des Rašīd ad-Dīn, Vienna, 1969; Die Chinageschichte des Rašīd ad-Dīn, Vienna, 1971; Die Geschichte der Kinder Israels des Rašīd ad-Dīn, Vienna, 1973; Die Frankengeschichte des Rašīd ad-Dīn, Vienna, 1977; Die Indiengeschichte des Rašīd ad-Dīn, Vienna, 1980. Râvandi, Moḥammad b. ʿAli b. Soleymân. Râḥat al-ṣodur va âyat alsorur. Ed. Muḥammad Iqbál as as The Ráḥat-uṣ-Ṣudúr wa Áyat-usSurúr: Being a History of the Saljúqs. Leiden and London, 1921. Riyâhi, Mohammad Amin. Sarchashme-hâ-ye Ferdowsi-shenâsi. Tehran, 1993. Rumlu, Ḥasan Bêg. Aḥsan al-tavârikh. Ed. ʿAbd al-Ḥoseyn Navâ’i. Tehran, 2005. Rypka, Jan. Dĕjiny perské a tadžikské literatury. Prague, 1956. Tr. Jan Rypka as Iranische Literaturgeschichte. Leipzig, 1959 (German version serving as the basis for the English translation: HIL). Ṣafâ, Dhabiḥ-Allâh. TADI. Sauvaget, Jean. Introduction à l’histoire de l’Orient musulman :éléments de bibliographie. Paris, 1943. Rev. Claude Cahen and tr. as Introduction to the History of the Muslim East: A Bibliographical Guide. Berkeley and Los Angeles, 1965. Shâmi, Neẓâm-al-Din. Ẓafar-nâme. Ed. Felix Tauer as Histoire des conquêtes de Tamerlan intitulée Ẓafar-nāma par Niẓāmuddīn Šāmī: Avec des additions empruntées au Zubdatu-t­tawārīḫ-i Bāysunghurī de Ḥāfiẓ-i Abrū.. 2 vols. Prague, 1937–56. Spuler, Bertold. “Die historisch-geographische Literatur in persischer Sprache,” in HdO, Abt. 1, Bd. IV: Iranistik, Abschn. 2: Literatur (Leiden and Cologne, 1968), pp. 100–167. Ṭabari, Abu-Jaʿfar Moḥammad b. Jarir. Taʾrikh al-rosol wa’l-moluk. Ed. Moḥammad Abu’l-Fażl Ebrāhim. 11 vols. Cairo, 1967–72. Tr. Franz Rosenthal et al. as The History of al-Ṭabari. gen. ed. Ehsan Yarshater. 40 vols. Albany, N. Y., 1985–2007. Târikh‑e Sistân. ed. Moḥammad-Taqi Malek-al-Sho‘arâ Bahâr. Tehran, 1315. Trausch, Tilmann. Formen höfischer Historiographie im 16. Jahrhundert: Geschichtsschreibung unter den frühen Safaviden: 1501–1578. Vienna, 2015. ­—. “Historiographie als Unterhaltungsliteratur? Die Eroberung Ḫurāsāns im Jahre 1510 in persischen Chroniken des 16. und 17. Jahrhunderts.”

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PERSIAN PROSE In Yavuz Köse, ed., Şehrâyân: Die Welt der Osmanen, die Osmanen in der Welt; Wahrnehmungen, Begegnungen und Abgrenzungen. Festschrift für Hans Georg Majer, Wiesbaden, 2012, pp. 419–34. Utas, Bo. “ ‘Genres’ in Persian Literature 900–1900.” In Gunilla Lindberg-Wada, ed., Literary History: Towards a Global Perspective II: Literary Genres: An Intercultural Approach, Berlin, 2006, pp. 199–241. Vâṣefi, Zeyn-al-Din Maḥmud: Badâyeʿ al-vaqâyeʿ. Ed. Aleksandr Boldyrev. Tehran, 1971. Vaṣṣâf al-Ḥażrat, Abd-Allâh b. Fażl-Allâh. Tajziyat al-amṣâr va tazjiyat al-aʿsâr. Ed. Iraj Afshâr, Maḥmud Omid-Sâlâr, Nâder Moṭṭalebi-Kâshâni et. al. Tehran, 2009. ­—. Geschichte Wassaf ’s: Deutsch übersetzt von Hammer-Purgstall. Ed. Sibylle Wentker. 3 vols. Vienna, 2010–12. Waldman, Marilyn Robinson. “ ‘The Otherwise Unnoteworthy Year 711’: A Reply to Hayden White.” Critical Inquiry 7/4 (Summer 1981), pp. 784–92. ­—. Toward a Theory of Historical Narrative: A Case Study in Perso­ Islamicate Historiography. Columbus, Ohio, 1980. Wennberg, Franz. On the Edge: The Concept of Progress in Bukhara during the Rule of the Later Manghit. Uppsala, 2013. Wentker, Sibylle, ed. See Vaṣṣâf, Geschichte Waṣṣâf ’s. White, Hayden. “The Narrativization of Real Events Author(s).” Critical Inquiry 7/4 (Summer 1981), pp. 793–98. ­—. Tropics of Discourse: Essays in Cultural Criticism. Baltimore, 1978. Wood, Barry, ed. and tr. The Adventures of Shāh Esmā’il: A Seventeenth Century Persian Prose Romance. Leiden and Boston, 2018. Woods, John E. “The Rise of Timurid Historiography.” JNES 46 (1987), pp. 81–107. Yavari, Neguin. The Future of Iran’s Past: Nizam al-Mulk Remembered. Oxford, 2018. Yazdi, Sharaf-al-Din ʿAli. Ẓafar-nâme. Ed. Moḥammad ʿAbbâsi. 2 vols. Tehran, 1957.

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CHAPTER 7 BIOGRAPHICAL WRITING: TADHKERE AND MANÂQEB Paul Losensky Two genres of Persian literature are devoted exclusively to biography and life writing, the tadhkere and the manâqeb. Both differ significantly from the prototypical modern biography. Although the manâqeb shares with modern biography its focus on the life of a single individual, in practice the genre is limited in scope to the lives, sayings, and miracles of religious leaders, particularly descendants of the Prophet and Sufi sheikhs. In keeping with its etymological associations with words meaning “character” (naqibe) and “leader” (naqib), the manâqeb focuses on virtues, praiseworthy deeds, and memorable sayings, and it is essentially laudatory in tone and content.1 Indeed, works of manâqeb would now usually be regarded more as hagiographies than biographies, though no such distinction was made when they were written. The tadhkere covers a broader range of persons than the manâqeb and does not always portray them in a positive light, but unlike the modern biography, it does not deal with single individuals. Instead, the tadhkere contains notices of any number of individuals (sometimes reaching into the thousands) who belong to a particular social or professional class. In principle, a tadhkere might be devoted to any group of people, and collective biographies have been written for calligraphers and artists, doctors, administrators, Hadith scholars, and other notables. In practice, however, Persian biographical compendiums usually focus on one of two categories. Tadhkeres of religious leaders and 1

Charles Pellat, “Manāḳib,” in EI2 , VI, pp. 349–50.

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Sufis in some ways resemble abridged compendiums of individual manâqebs, but transform the exceptional virtues of the individual into the exemplary qualities of the group. Tadhkeres of poets draw together their lives and works into a collective vision and history of the literary art. A verbal noun meaning “reminder,” tadhkere is related to other words concerning memory or recollection and can denote anything that makes one remember, from a private note to a public memorial. Tadhkeres are meant to provoke memory as well as preserve the past and often have the performative function of initiating the reader into an ongoing tradition; “they concentrate the readers’ focus on their heroic subjects at the same time that they disperse, or redeploy, that focus to present-day concerns and contingencies.”2 Like most Persian literary genres, the manâqeb and the tadhkere show wide variation in form and content and often blend with other genres. Biographies, for example, can often be found in various forms of historical writing—narrative histories, chronicles, and local histories. With its strong emphasis on the words of spiritual masters and poets, biographical writing blends with the genres of malfuzât (the record of oral discourses) and the poetry anthology. When authors of collective biographies situate themselves in the professional network that their works delineate, elements of autobiography enter into the tadhkere. Historical romances based on religious figures, such as Abu-Moslem and Mokhtâr b. AbuObeyde, erase any facile demarcations between biography, hagiography, and popular fiction. No survey can hope to encompass this vast range of material, and this chapter will focus primarily on the development and prototypical features of the tadhkere and the manâqeb, while noting their range of variation and intersections with other genres. Since religious leaders and literary figures are the primary subjects of biographical writing in the pre-modern Persian tradition, the first works to feature the word tadhkere in 2

Marcia K. Hermansen and Bruce B. Lawrence, “Indo-Persian Tazkiras as Memorative Communications,” in David Gilmartin and Bruce B. Lawrence, eds., Beyond Turk and Hindu: Rethinking Religious Identities in Islamicate South Asia (Gainesville, 2000), p. 150.

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their titles in each of these traditions can serve as starting points— Tadhkerat al-owliyâ and Tadhkerat al-sho’arâ.

1. The Sufi Tradition: Ara­bic Precedents and Persian Developments The first Persian biographical work to use the word tadhkere in its title is the Tadhkerat al-owliyâ (Memorial of God’s Friends) by Farid-al-Din Attâr, composed around the end of the 12th century. In its original form, this work consists of seventy-two biographies, arranged in roughly chronological order from the time of the Prophet Mohammad to the death of Ebn-Mansur Hallâj in 922. (An addendum, of uncertain authorship, contains another twenty-five biographies.) Although Attâr lavishes most of his attention on the major figures of early Sufism, such as Abu’l-Qâsem Joneyd and Bâyazid of Bastâm, the work also includes other spiritual leaders who are not usually associated with the Sufi movement, such as the founders of the four major schools of Islamic law. Tadhkerat al-owliyâ uses this collection of biographies to create a sense of a communal religious enterprise and present a particular vision of early Islamic spirituality. Throughout the tadhkere tradition, the individual subject is presented as a participant in and contributor to a larger tradition and community. Most biographies in Tadhkerat al-owliyâ contain three kinds of material: an introduction, anecdotes, and aphorisms or sayings. The brief introduction begins with a series of rhymed phrases, identifies the principal virtues of the subject, and links him (or in one case, her) with other members of the spiritual community: Of world and faith the sultan, the phoenix on certainty’s mountain, the treasure of the realm of seclusion, the hoard of the secrets of fortune, the king of the greatest clime, nurtured by grace and generosity sublime, the sheikh of the realm, Ebrāhim ebn Adham—God’s mercy upon him. He was the most mindful man of his time and the most honest of his age. He had a full portion of the varieties of proper conduct and of the species of mystical truth. He was accepted

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The rhyming epithets stand out from Attâr’s otherwise plain prose style. They not only serve to establish the laudatory tone, but serve as an invocation; these biographies are not a passive record of the past, but commemorations, active reminders of human spiritual capacity. Though the audience can seldom hope to imitate the lives of these exemplars, their performative recollection can instill the spirit of emulation. The introduction is followed by anecdotes. Normally, these are initiated by the story of the subject’s repentance or conversion to a life in God, and most biographies conclude with stories about his or her death. Aside from these starting and end points, however, there is little concern for creating a linear, consistent, and continuous narrative. The life and spiritual career of the friend of God are presented as a series of brief narrative incidents; they seldom involve more than one or two characters and a single action and reaction. This style of narration reflects a primarily oral, memory­based mode of transmission, which ultimately goes back to the “reports” (akhbâr) that constituted the earliest form of Islamic history. These anecdotes may be linked thematically or by certain recurrent character types or settings, but only rarely by psychological consistency or the enchainment of cause and effect. It is not unusual for the same anecdote to recur in multiple biographies, not only within a single tadhkere, but across several works with different subjects. The anecdotes are followed by a series of aphorisms or sayings attributed to the subject. Rarely longer than a sentence or two, these aphorisms, like the anecdotes, follow one another as discrete units, separated by the citation verb, “he said,” as seen in the first several sayings of Dhu’l-Nun Mesri:

3

Farid-al-Din Attâr, Tadhkerat al-owliyâ, tr. Paul Losensky as Farid adDin ‘Attār’s Memorial of God’s Friends: Lives and Sayings of Sufis (New York, 2009), p. 127. See also pp. 18–32 for more detailed discussion of the structure of this work.

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Biographical Writing: Tadhkere and Manâqeb He said, “The most difficult of veils is the vision of the self.” He said, “Wisdom does not settle in the belly full of food.” He said, “Asking for forgiveness without refraining from sin is the repentance of liars.” He said, “Happy is the person whose heart’s watchword is scrupulousness, whose heart is purified of lust, and who reckons with his self in everything he does.” He said, “Bodily health is in eating sparingly. Spiritual health is in sinning sparingly.”4

Although the sequence is not dictated by chronology or strict rules of logic, several of these aphorisms are thematically linked by the theme of watching over the bodily ego-self (nafs) and the connection between body and soul. In the hands of a poet like Attâr, the “modular” structure of both the anecdotes and aphorisms contributes to the unfolding of a network of associations more complex than a strictly linear logic might permit. Although we usually think of biography as the “story” of someone’s life, in the tadhkere, the words uttered or written by the subjects, be they Sufis, religious scholars, or poets, are often given more space and importance than their actions or the events of their lives. From the beginning of the Islamic biographical tradition, “the basic qualification for inclusion in the general run of biographical compendiums is the contribution brought by the individual to the cultural tradition of the Muslim community.”5 Such cultural contributions normally take the form of the words that survive the death of the speaker or writer. This signal importance of the verbal heritage explains not only the professional classes most commonly treated in tadhkeres—religious leaders, scholars, and poets—but also the emphasis on sayings, writings, and poetry in the biographical notices. It is not uncommon to find entries in collective biographies that consist almost entirely of quotations of the subject’s words. In the Persian tradition of life writing, individuals are significant not so much for their actions as for the words that they have bequeathed to posterity and their positions in lineages of learning, art, and piety. 4 5

Farid-al-Din Attâr, Tadhkerat al-owliyâ, ed. Mohammad Este’lâmi (2nd ed., Tehran, 1984), p. 148. Hamilton Gibb, “Islamic Biographical Literature,” in Bernard Lewis and P. M. Holt, eds., Historians of the Middle East (London, 1962), p. 55.

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Writing about people who lived some three to five centuries before his time, Attâr necessarily relied on earlier sources, and his authorship consists largely of selecting, arranging, and rewriting previous materials. Tadhkerat al-owliyâ can be seen as the culmination of the process of translating and transforming the Ara­ bic Sufi tradition into Persian, which took place in Khorasan over the course of the 11th and 12th centuries. One of Attâr’s principal sources was Tabaqât al-sufiyye (Sufi Ranks) by Abu Abd-al-Rahmân Solami (d. 1021), which was written in Ara­bic in Attâr’s home town of Nishapur. Solami’s work was itself the product of a long tradition of biographical compendiums in Ara­bic, known, as its title indicates, as the tabaqât genre. Meaning “categories, classes, or generations,” the Ara­bic tabaqât probably originated in works of Hadith scholarship. To assess the validity of reports of the sayings and deeds of the Prophet Mohammad, scholars needed to know the proximity of the transmitters of these reports to the Prophet and to one another. The concern for ascertaining sound chains of transmission for Hadith, however, was part of “a global preoccupation of all scholars in different fields: to give to society the canons for transmitting knowledge whether sacred or secular”6 to assure the continuity of the tradition. The tabaqât genre thus expanded to include biographical collections on the representatives of other professions, such as Qur’an reciters, poets, physicians, and jurists in the various schools of law. These works were organized in several ways—by affiliation to the Prophet, chronology, and later alphabetical order—structural schemas that were handed down to the Persian tradition. Solami’s Tabaqât al-sufiyye extends this life-writing tradition to esoteric Islam; it is organized in five generations and aims to establish the continuity of Sufi teaching and belief with the more mainstream Sunni tradition. The link connecting the Ara­bic biographical tradition to Attâr goes through two works in which the tadhkere was blended with another genre—the manual of Sufi doctrine and practice. Solami’s Tabaqât served as a primary source for the biographical sections of two nearly contemporaneous works: the Resâle (Treatise) by 6

Claude Gilliot, “Ṭabaḳāt,” in EI2 , X, p. 8.

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Abu’l-Qâsem Qosheyri (d. 1072), translated from Ara­bic into Persian shortly after its completion by one of the author’s disciples; and Kashf al-mahjub (Uncovering the Veiled) by Ali b. Othmân Hojviri (d. 1072–77), originally written in Persian. In adapting and translating Solami’s Ara­bic text, both works integrate it into the overall structure of the Sufi manual and adjust its content for their larger didactic purposes.7 Attâr’s borrowings from the rewritings of both Qosheyri and Hojviri, as well as his direct translations from Solami’s original, are evident on every page of his Tadhkerat al-owliyâ.8 Attâr’s innovation within the Persian tradition was to return to Solami’s original format, treating biography as an independent genre and focusing on the life experience and sayings of formative teachers outside of a discursive, instructional context. Attâr made several other structural changes to his sources. The clear separation between anecdotes and aphorisms found in his biographies is not a feature of any of the earlier works, where the two text types are freely juxtaposed. He also purposively removes the chains of oral transmission (esnâd) that served to establish the authenticity of the material in the earlier works. These changes, in keeping with Attâr’s primarily poetic vision, have the effect of increasing literary cohesion and transforming this scholarly material into an artistic and devotional work.9 It is apparently for this reason that Attâr’s work had so little direct influence on the next major compendium of Sufi biographies, the Nafahât al-ons men hazarât al-qods (Breaths of the Familiar from Presences of the Sacred) by Abd-al-Rahmân Jâmi (d. 1492). Containing some 600 biographies, the first half of Jâmi’s tadhkere is based on a work entitled, like 7

See Jawid A. Mojaddedi, The Biographical Tradition in Sufism: the ‘Tabaqāt’ Genre from al-Sulamī to Jāmī (Richmond, U. K., 2001), chapters 4 and 5. 8 See Paul Losensky, “The Creative Compiler: The Art of Rewriting in ‘Aṭṭār’s Taẕkirat al-awliyā’,” in Franklin Lewis and Sunil Sharma, eds., The Necklace of the Pleiades: Studies in Persian Literature Presented to Heshmat Moayyad on his 80 th Birthday (Amsterdam and West Lafayette, Ind., 2007), pp. 107–19. 9 See Paul Losensky, “Words and Deeds: Message and Structure in ʿAṭṭār’s Tadhkirat al-Awliyāʾ,” in Leonard Lewisohn and Christopher Shackle, eds., Attar and the Persian Sufi Tradition (London, 2006), pp. 75–92.

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Solami’s, Tabaqât al-sufiyye, but written in the Persian dialect of twelfth-century Herat. This Persian Tabaqât is usually attributed to Abd-Allâh Ansâri (d. 1089) and sometimes characterized as a translation of Solami’s work. Closer examination, however, shows that the Persian Tabaqât is, in fact, a compilation of Ansâri’s teachings assembled later by his students and that Solami’s Ara­bic Tabaqât made only a minimal contribution to its generational structure and biographical material.10 In adapting and incorporating the Persian Tabaqât, Jâmi edited out its dialectical features, tidied up its inconsistencies, and added new material.11 In the second half of the Nafahât, however, Jâmi points the way for future developments in the Sufi tadhkere. Here the biographies are arranged according to lines of master-disciple affiliations, or selsele, the backbone of the so-called “Sufi orders.” The first of these begins with the biography of Yusof Hamadâni (d. 1140), the first in the line of sheikhs belonging to what was later called the Naqshbandi order, and concludes with Obeyd-Allâh Khwâje Ahrâr (d. 1490), the leader of the order in Jâmi’s time and his personal spiritual mentor.12 This “cluster” of biographies is given pride of place at the center of the Nafahât, but the following biographies are similarly grouped around major Sufi masters and their followers or companions.13 From this time forward, Sufi tadhkeres would increasingly revolve around membership in a particular line of spiritual succession; their “authors were no longer so much concerned with defending the Sufi tradition as a whole against common enemies as debating internally about competing mystical practices and the heritage of the eminent master of the past.”14 Before examining a couple of examples of this later tradition, we should note that the Nafahât concludes with two short final sections grouped according to criteria other than spiritual affiliation. The first is devoted to fifteen poets who were either Sufis or whose 10 Mojaddedi, Biographical Tradition, pp. 169–96. 11 Mojaddedi, Biographical Tradition, pp. 152–62. 12 Nur-al-Din Abd-al-Rahmân Jâmi, Nafahât al-ons men hazarât al-qods, ed. Mahmud Âbedi (Tehran, 2007), pp. 380–417. 13 Mojaddedi, Biographical Tradition, pp. 169–176. 14 Jürgen Paul, “Hagiographic Literature,” in EIr, XI, p. 537.

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work was popular among the Sufis of Jâmi’s time. The second is a sort of appendix of brief biographies of thirty-four “women mystics” (zanân‑e âref).15 The inclusion of the first is likely due both to Jâmi’s own stature as a poet and to the broader tradition of literary tadhkeres that we will examine below. The gender-segregated inclusion of women would later appear in the biographical compendiums of poets as well. The later Timurid period marked the beginning of a proliferation and transformation of Sufi biographical compendiums, and no survey can hope to encompass the dozens of tadhkeres, many of which remain unpublished, written on Sufis in Central Asia and Mughal India (though not in Safavid Persia) over the course of the next three centuries. A couple of examples must suffice to indicate general trends. Rashahât‑e eyn al-hayât (Trickles from the Spring of Life) was composed in 1503 by Fakhr-al-Din Ali Safi, son of the renowned litterateur of Herat Hoseyn Kâshefi. Fakhr-al-Din belonged to the same Naqshbandi Sufi order as Jâmi, and the second half of the Rashahât is devoted to an extended biography of the order’s spiritual master, Khwâje Ahrâr. This part of the work is divided into three sections containing anecdotes on his early life, his sayings, and his miracles. The first half of the Rashahât, however, consists of a tadhkere-like compendium of earlier sheikhs; these sheikhs are all supposedly Khwâje Ahrâr’s predecessors in the Naqshbandi order, but many have been co-opted from a competing Sufi selsele, the Yasavi. This process effectively “appropriates the charisma [of the Yasavi] and delegitimizes it as an independent and rival tradition.”16 The tendency to organize the collective biography in a way that promotes the claims of a particular school of Sufi thought and practice can also be found in two tadhkeres composed by the Mughal Prince Dârâ Shokuh (executed by his brother Âlamgir Aurangzeb in 1659). The partisan purpose is especially prominent in the shorter 15 Jâmi, Nafahât, pp. 586–612 and 613–33. 16 Devin DeWeese, “The Mashā’ikh-i Turk and the Khojagān: Rethinking the Links between the Yasavī and the Naqshbandī Sufi Traditions,” Journal of Islamic Studies 7 (1996), p. 190. On the Rashahât, also see Storey, PL, I/2, pp. 964–66.

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of the two works, Sakinat al-owliyâ (Tranquility of God’s Friends, 1642). Like the Rashahât, it features an extended biography of a single prominent Sufi sheikh, in this case, Miyân Mir, a Sufi master of Lahore belonging to the Qâderi order, to which all the other shorter biographies are subordinated. Dârâ’s longer tadhkere, Safinat alowliyâ (Ship of God’s Friends, 1640), has a much broader scope, starting with notices on the Prophet Mohammad and the founders of the major legal schools and including accounts of several Sufi orders. But the Qâderi has pride of place as the first of the orders treated, and the brief accounts of the Sufi masters of the past serve “to provide a backdrop for the stage onto which [Dârâ] parades as central exhibit the Qadiriya, especially his own immediate spiritual mentors.”17 Even his choice of who to include among recent and contemporary Qâderi adepts shows concern for promoting the interests of a particular doctrinal school within the order.18

2. Manâqeb: Individual Lives and Collective Virtues Both Rashahât‑e eyn al-hayât and Sakinat al-owliyâ transform the structure of the tadhkere by focusing on a single prominent individual. In so doing, they absorb the biographical compendium into the second major genre of life writing in Persian, the manâqeb. In his Tadhkerat al-owliyâ, Attâr had done the opposite, absorbing material from manâqebs into his collective biography. For example, he concludes his notice on Bâyazid of Bestâm with a comment made by the later Sufi sheikh Abu Sa’id b. Abi’l-Kheyr at Bâyazid’s tomb, taken from the manâqeb Asrâr al-towhid by Ebn-Monavvar.19 Other anecdotes and sayings come from the Ara­bic manâqeb 17 18

Hermansen and Lawrence, “Memorative Communications,” p. 161. See Bruce Lawrence, “Biography and the 17 th Century Qādirīya in North India,” in Anna Libera Dallapiccola and Stephanie Aingel-Avé Lallemant, eds., Islam and the Indian Regions (2 vols., Stuttgart, 1993), I, pp. 399–415. On Dârâ’s two tadhkeres, see also Storey, PL, I/2, pp. 992–99. 19 Compare Attâr, Tadhkerat, p. 210, and Mohammad Ebn-Monavvar, Asrâr al-towhid fi maqâmât al-Sheykh Abi Sa’id, ed. Mohammad-Rezâ Shafi’i-Kadkani (2 vols., Tehran, 1987), I, p. 199.

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on Bâyazid himself by Mohammad b. Ali Sahlaji (d. 1084), Ketâb al-nur men kalemât Abi Teyfur (Book of Light from the Words of Abu Teyfur).20 The increasing significance of Sufi selsele seen in Jâmi’s Nafahât was first expressed in extended works on the individual lives of their founding masters. Like the tadhkere, the precedents for the manâqeb genre were well-established in the Ara­bic tradition. The ultimate source goes back to books on the life of the Prophet (known as sire), the members of his family, his companions, and early heroes of the Islamic conquests. (The exploits of the latter would later give rise to picaresque oral sagas such as the Mokhtâr-nâme, Abu-Moslem-nâme, and Hamze-nâme, where biography enters the realm of fictional narrative.) Individual biographies were also written about the founders of the major legal schools and Sufi orders.21 The Persian tradition of such works, known as both manâqeb and maqâmât (after the “stations” of the Sufi path), emerges at the same place and time as the tadhkere tradition, in Khorasan in the 11th and 12th centuries. Perhaps the earliest such work, Ketâb‑e nur al-olum (Book of the Light of Sciences) on the life of the mystic Abu’l-Hasan Kharaqâni (d. 1033), survives now only in the form of a later abridgement. Kharaqâni is also the subject of another early manâqeb, Dhekr‑e qotb al-sâlekin (Remembrance of the Axis of Wayfarers). In both works, more space is devoted to the sayings and aphorisms of the sheikh than to narrative anecdotes; of the ten chapters of extracts from Ketâb‑e nur al-olum, the first eight are selections from his utterances divided topically, and only chapters nine and ten present stories about the sheikh and his miracles.22 As with the tadhkere, what makes the lives of individuals worth recording are the words they speak. 20 Mohammad b. Ali Sahlagi, Daftar‑e rowshanâ’i: az mirâth‑e erfâni-ye Bâyazid Bestâmi, tr. Mohammad-Rezâ Shafi’i-Kadkani (Tehran, 2005), pp. 45–6. 21 See Charles Pellat, “Manāḳib,” EI2 VI, pp. 349–57. 22 Neveshte bar daryâ: az mirâs‑e ‘erfâni-ye Abu’l-Hasan Kharaqâni, ed. Mohammad-Rezâ Shafi’i-Kadkani (Tehran, 2005), pp. 347–84.

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Richer in narrative material is Asrâr al-towhid (Secrets of God’s Mystical Oneness), the longest and most famous of the three maqâmât devoted to the life of Kharaqâni’s contemporary, Abu-Sa’id b. Abi’l-Kheyr (d. 1049). Like most works in the genre, the Asrâr was written by a descendent or later disciple of its subject, in this case Abu-Sa’id’s great-great-grandson, Ebn-Monavvar; the literary work, composed around 1178, in effect replaces the tomb of the sheikh in Nishapur that had been destroyed by the Ghozz Turks some thirty years earlier. The authorship of the work is indicative of its rhetorical stance and purpose; the manâqeb is almost by definition highly partisan in its promotion of the virtues of its subject. Many anecdotes, for example, display Abu-Sa’id’s superiority to his contemporaries and, in particular, the renowned Sufi scholar whom we encountered above, Abu’l-Qâsem Qosheyri: It is related that Ostâd Imam Bu’l-Qâsem Qosheyri, God sanctify his awesome soul, one night thought to himself, “Tomorrow I will attend the Sheikh’s assembly, and I will ask him, ‘What is divine law and what is the mystic path?’ Let me see what he will say.”   Early the following morning, Ostâd Imam went to the Sheikh’s assembly and sat down. The Sheikh started speaking. But before Ostâd Imam posed his question, the Sheikh said, “To the person who would ask questions on divine law and the mystic path, know I have summed up all the sciences of divine law and the mystic path in this verse: The beloved’s message has come: Prepare for action. That is the law! Show the heart’s love and clear away the nonsense. That is the path!”23

Although Abu-Sa’id probably did not compose the poem he recites here, his skill in aptly quoting and interpreting others’ poetry is on display throughout the Asrâr; verbal performance is again emphasized, and we get an early taste of the prominence of poets and poetry, Sufi or otherwise, in the later biographical tradition. 23 Adapted from Mohammad Ebn-Monavvar, The Secrets of God’s Mystical Oneness, tr. John O’Kane (Costa Mesa, Calif., 1992), p. 160. See Ebn-Monavvar, Asrâr, I, pp. 79–80.

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Abu-Sa’id gains a further advantage over Qosheyri through his clairvoyant ability to read minds. Saintly miracles (karâmât) play a prominent role in the manâqeb, and most works in the genre will devote at least one chapter to the topic. Wonder-working can even be the sole topic or central focus of some saintly biographies, such as Maqâmât‑e Zhende-Pil concerning the spiritual feats of Ahmad‑e Jâm (d. 1141), composed by one of his immediate disciples, Mohammad Ghaznavi, sometime around 1150. Such miracles fall into several conventional categories, such as reading minds, foreknowledge of future events, healing, speaking with animals, efficacious blessings or curses, and even telekinesis and the transformation of material objects.24 In violating the physical laws of nature and the normal limitations on human knowledge, these miracles strike the modern reader as fantastic and implausible, but in this hagiographic literature, it is precisely the exceptional nature of the spiritually gifted that makes them exemplary. Miracle stories, of course, bolster claims to spiritual legitimacy and charisma by demonstrating the power to cross between the natural and the supernatural realms, but they also often are the vehicle for teaching points of doctrine and belief. Moreover, the miraculous can only emerge against the background of the quotidian, and manâqeb often provide an incidental wealth of detail on everyday life and belief systems that is often elided in other literary sources.25 The manâqeb of Sufi sheikhs from outside of Khorasan before the Mongol invasions were usually composed in Ara­bic and later translated into Persian. The history of one such work, the vita of Abu-Eshâq Kâzaruni (d. 1033), is indicative of larger changes in the hagiographic tradition. A manâqeb on his life was originally 24 Mohammad Ghaznavi, Maqâmât‑e Zhende-Pil, trs. Heshmat Moayyad and Franklin Lewis as The Colossal Elephant and his Spiritual Feats: Shaykh Ahmad‑e Jâm (Costa Mesa, Calif., 2004), pp. 444–49; Browne, LHP, IV, pp. 40–41. 25 As Sa’id Nafisi observes, “the authors [of manâqeb] have put down for us the life of the common people of every age with complete reliability and honesty and without allowing in flattery, exaggeration, fakery, or adulteration”: “Resâle-ye Sâhebiyye,” ed. Sa’id Nafisi, Farhang‑e Irân-zamin 1 (1953), p. 71.

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written in Ara­bic by Abu-Bakr al-Khatib (d. 1109), but this work had to wait over two centuries to be translated into Persian in 1328. The translator, Mahmud b. Othmân, added to the legacy of this ancient master by composing an original manâqeb on his own spiritual mentor, Amin-al-Din Balyâni, a descendent of Abu­Eshâq.26 This was only one of many single-life biographies of Sufi masters written during the 14th and 15th centuries. These included lives of the namesake of the Naqshbandi order (Bahâ-al-Din Naqshband),27 of the Ne’matollâhi order (Ne’mat-Allâh Vali),28 and many others.29 Such works both express and authorize the growing importance of formal Sufi orders as they take shape and assert their position and power against one another after the Mongol conquests. Perhaps the most vivid example of this partisan politicization of the Sufi biographical tradition is the Safvat al-safâ (Essence of Purity) of Ebn-Bazzâz. This account of the life, wonders, and sayings of Sheikh Safi-al-Din Eshâq Ardabili (d. 1334) was written by one of his son’s disciples only 24 years after Safi-al-Din’s death. It grew out of the same kind of environment as other manâqeb of the 14th century. The order founded by the sheikh, however, garnered ever-greater political prominence and emerged a century and a half later as the Safavid dynasty, which would rule Persia for two centuries. During this political transformation, the original text was itself transformed in ways that served to underpin the later ideology and self-image of the dynasty.30 Like other forms of pre-modern 26 On the Persian translation of the life of Abu-Eshâq Kâzaruni, see Iraj Afshâr, “Ferdows al-moršedīya fī asrâr al-ṣamadīyye,” in EIr, IX, pp. 511–12. The manāqeb on Balyâni is entitled Meftâh al-hedâye va mesbâh al-enâye (Key of Guidance and Lamp of Solicitude), ed. Emâd-al-Din Sheykh alHokamâyi (Tehran, 1998). 27 See Hamid Algar, “Anīs al-ṭālebīn wa ʿoddat al-sālekin,” in EIr, II, pp. 76–77. 28 See Matériaux pour la biographie de Shâh Niʿmatullâh Walí Kermâní, ed. Jean Aubin (Tehran, 1956). 29 For a detailed, analytical study of Sufi manâqeb from this period, see Shahzad Bashir, Sufi Bodies: Religion and Society in Medieval Islam (New York, 2011). 30 See Roger Savory, “Ebn Bazzāz,” in EIr, VIII, p. 8, and Michel M. Mazzaoui, “A ‘New’ Edition of the Ṣafvat al-ṣafā,” in Judith Pfeiffer and Sholeh A. Quinn, eds., History and Historiography of Post-Mongol Central Asia

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Persian biography, Safvat al-safâ tells us much about not only about the “biographee” and his life and times, but also the biographer and the context in which he wrote. This period also witnessed the emergence of another form of Sufi life writing—the malfuzât. Most full-life manâqeb are filled with reports of the master’s sayings and conversations with others, and disciples often recorded the oral teachings of their sheikh for posterity. This was, for example, the likely origin of the Tabaqât al-sufiyye attributed to Ansâri and Rumi’s Fihe mâ fih.31 This practice took on a distinctive form in the Chishti Sufi order of India. The poet Amir-Hasan Sejzi Dehlavi (d. 1336) was a disciple of the head of this order, Nezâm-al-Din Owliyâ (d. 1325), and began to record his meetings with the sheikh. The result was the Favâ’ed al-fo’âd (Morals for the Heart), a diary-like record of 188 teaching sessions over the course of fifteen years.32 This text inaugurated the genre known as malfuzât (things uttered), which would continue to develop within the Indo-Persian Chishti tradition for the next century and privilege the direct and realistic report of firsthand conversation. Although it was eventually absorbed into more conventional manâqeb hagiographies, malfuzât vividly depict the content, rituals, and interpersonal dynamics of the oral, face-toface teachings of these spiritual masters.33 Two longer manâqeb deserve special attention due to the nature of their subjects. Though Jalâl-al-Din Rumi and Abd-al-Rahmân Jâmi are more famous today as poets than as Sufi saints, both were supplied with eulogistic biographies by their followers. The differences between the two works are instructive. Shams-al-Din Ahmad Aflâki’s Manâqeb al-ârefin (Virtues of the Gnostics) was written and the Middle East: Studies in Honor of John E. Woods (Wiesbaden, 2006), pp. 303–10. 31 Franklin D. Lewis, Rumi, Past and Present, East and West: The Life, Teachings and Poetry of Jalâl al-Din Rumi (Oxford, 2000), p. 292. 32 See Nezâm-al-Din Owliyâ, Favâ’ed al-fo’ âd, tr. Bruce B. Lawrence as Morals for the Heart: Conversations of Shaykh Nizam ad-Din Awliya Recorded by Amir Hasan Sijzi (New York, 1992). 33 For the history of this genre, see Carl W. Ernst, Eternal Garden: Mysticism, History, and Politics at a South Asian Sufi Center (Albany, N. Y., 1992), pp. 61–84.

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with the assistance of Rumi’s descendants and completed some eighty years after his death. It closely resembles other manâqeb in both structure and content. A multitude of individual, self-standing anecdotes are held together by only “the thinnest shadow of a plot,” but through “an accumulation of stylized perspectives and circumstantial detail … [they provide] a vivid portrait of a particular medieval culture and mentality.”34 Elements of the miraculous proliferate. Not surprisingly, what distinguishes the work from other works in the genre is the prominence of poetry, which is presented both diegetically as part of the narrative and as summarizing interjections by the narrator. The Maqâmât‑e Jâmi, on the other hand, was written within a few years of Jâmi’s death by a close companion, Abd-al-Vâse’ Nezâmi Bâkharzi (d. 1503). As in Manâqeb al-‘ârefin, samples of poetry appear throughout the work. The contexts in which they are cited, however, seldom partake in the supernatural. Much of the book consists instead of Jâmi’s comments on spiritual and political events of the time, and these are largely reports of conversations that the author or other contemporaries had with the poet. This naturalistic, first-hand reporting is generally more characteristic of biographies of poets than Sufis.

3. The Poetic Tradition: Precedents and Developments Of the 400 or so works listed under the heading of biography in the standard bibliographic survey of Persian literature, nearly 300 are devoted to either mystics or poets.35 There are a few works devoted to other masters of the pen, such as Qâzi Ahmad Qommi’s tadhkere of calligraphers and painters (composed ca. 1606).36 Even rarer 34 Shams-al-Din Ahmad Aflâki, Manâqeb al-ârefin, tr. John O’Kane as The Feats of the Knowers of God (Manāqeb al-ʿārefin) (Leiden, 2002), p. xix. 35 See Storey, PL, I/2. 36 Qâzi Ahmad Qommi, Golestân‑e honar: tadhkere-ye khôshnevisân va naqqâshân, ed. Ahmad Soheyli-Khwânsâri (Tehran, 1973); tr. V. Minorsky as Calligraphers and Painters: A Treatise by Qāḍī Aḥmad, Son of Mīr-Munshī (Washington, DC, 1959).

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are biographical compendiums devoted exclusively to those who wielded the pen in government service; one of the few pre-modern works of note is Dastur al-vozarâ (The Rule of the Viziers) written by the historian Khwândamir in 1509.37 The tadhkere that embraces the widest group of social and professional classes is Majâles al-mo’menin (Assemblies of the Believers) by Nur-Allâh Shushtari composed between 1585 and 1592. This work includes biographies of people from the days of the Prophet to the present and includes chapters covering not only Sufis and poets (both Arab and Persian), but also religious scholars, philosophers, kings, governors, viziers, and calligraphers. The criteria of selection is not profession, but sectarian affiliation—all those included are (in principle) Shi’ites.38 For the most part, however, such a broad professional range is found not in tadhkeres, but rather in the biographical chapters or sections that are included in many histories. Biographies might be integrated into histories in several ways. A separate chapter might be set aside for biographies, typically at the end of the account of a particular ruler’s reign. In the first book of Eskandar Beyg Monshi’s Târikh‑e âlamârâ-ye Abbâsi (World-adorning History of Abbâs), for example, biographies of religious dignitaries, administrators, physicians, calligraphers, artists, poets, and musicians of the time of Shah Tahmâsp follow the story of his death. In chronicle histories, the account of a year will often conclude with obituary biographies of various people of note, a structure found in the second book of Âlamârâ-ye Abbâsi and elsewhere.39 One of the earliest surviving Persian histories to set aside significant space for biography is Hamd-Allâh Mostowfi’s Târikh‑e gozide (Select History, 1330), in which the fifth book (bâb) contains six chapters of brief biographical notices on imams, Qur’an readers, Hadith transmitters, Sufi sheikhs, religious scholars, and poets. These biographies go back to the earliest days of Islamic civilization, but 37 Storey, PL, II/2, pp. 1090–91. 38 Storey, PL, I/2, pp. 1126–30. 39 Eskandar Beyg Monshi, Târikh‑e âlamârâ-ye Abbâsi, tr. Roger Savory as History of Shah ‘Abbas the Great (2 vols., Boulder, Colo., 1978), I, pp. 229– 82 and II, pp. 666, 707–9, and 1005–7. See also Sholeh Quinn, “Historio­ graphy, vi. Safavid Period,” in EIr, XII, pp. 363–67.

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often include little more than the subject’s place of origin and date of death.40 By definition, biographical compendiums explicitly devoted to poets do not cover the same range of learned men, but so central is poetry to Persian culture generally that such tadhkeres, especially after the 15th century, usually encompass a broad social horizon. Besides professional poets, anyone with the slightest pretense to education could compose a few verses, and the rolls of poets included members of all social classes from the nobility to merchants and craftsmen. The first work in this poetic biographical tradition to use the word tadhkere in its title is Dowlatshâh Samarqandi’s Tadhkerat al-sho’arâ (Memorial of Poets). Composed in 1487, the work collects biographies of some 140 poets starting from the re-emergence of Persian as a poetic language in the 10th century with the life of Rudaki (d. 941) and continuing up to Dowlatshâh’s own time. Following the Ara­bic model for structuring biographical compendiums,41 these five centuries of poetry are divided into seven chronological tabaqât containing about twenty poets each. These levels, according to Dowlatshâh, correspond to the seven spheres of the Ptolemaic heavens and thus map the entire poetic universe. Though not without precedent, Tadhkerat al-sho’arâ does appear at a crucial moment in the consolidation of the Persian literary tradition and the formation of its canon42 and would initiate the tradition of works on the collective lives of poets that would flourish into the 20th century. The biography of Amir Shâhi Sabzavâri, the first poet of the seventh tabaqe, indicates some general features of Dowlatshâh’s biographies. All begin with a laudatory assessment of the poet’s stature and achievements, and Amir Shâhi’s high reputation on the contemporary literary scene unleashes Dowlatshâh’s full rhetorical arsenal: 40 Hamd-Allâh Mostowfi, Târikh‑e Gozide, ed. Abd-al-Hoseyn Navâ’i (2nd ed., Tehran, 1983), pp. 624–757. 41 Note, for example, Tabaqât al-sho’arâ al-mohdathin by Ebn-al-Mo’tazz (d. 908). 42 Paul E. Losensky, Welcoming Fighānī: Imitation and Poetic Individuality in the Safavid-Mughal Ghazal (Costa Mesa, Calif., 1998), pp. 145–54.

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An Ara­bic proverb and line of verse are deployed not as mere adornment, but to justify placing the poet among literary immortals when he wrote so few poems. Only after this literary-critical assessment does Dowlatshâh proceed to the factual particulars. He gives the poet’s full name (Âq Malek b. Malek Jamâl-al-Din) and identifies his place of birth and his family background. Such information is commonly found in the biographies of poets, but Amir Shâhi’s circumstances are unusual. As a noble descendent of the Sarbadâr dynasty that ruled the area in Khorasan around Sabzavar in the previous century, he is able to remain largely aloof from the economy of royal patronage. Dowlatshâh “documents” this independence from courtly service by telling an anecdote about Amir Shâhi’s relationship with the Timurid prince Bâysonghor (d. 1433). The prince shows kindness to the dispossessed nobleman-poet, returns his lost properties, and admits him to his intimate circle. But one day on a hunt, Bâysonghor disparages Amir Shâhi’s father, and the poet foreswears any future attendance on kings and sultans. This incident, we are told, took place when the two were alone together, so we can justly ask how Dowlatshâh could quote the exact words spoken. The incident is more important for its dramatic impact than for the empirical particulars, an evidentiary issue common to poetic tadhkeres. In any case, Amir Shâhi retires to his family holdings in Sabzavar and takes up agriculture; his estate becomes a gathering place for learned men and artists, as well as various members of 43 Dowlatshâh Samarqandi, Tadhkerat al-sho’arâ, ed. Fâteme Alâqe (Tehran, 2006), p. 771. The poets mentioned here are all recognized masters of the lyric ghazal from the previous century and died in 1325, 1336, 1400, and 1390, respectively.

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the ruling class. He is praised not only for his poetry, but for his character and many other accomplishments in calligraphy, painting, and music. He is a man of culture, outside the rules of political hierarchy. Dowlatshâh then quotes three of Shâhi’s ghazals, one of which is incongruously dedicated to the Timurid prince Abu’lQâsem Bâbor b. Bahâdor (d. 1447). Following these samples of his poetry, the notice concludes by recording when and where Amir Shâhi died (in Astarâbâd in 1453) and where he was buried (in the family shrine in Sabzavar) and by naming some other contemporary poets.44 Critical assessment, place of birth, family background, patrons, date and place of death (unless the subject is still living), and selections from the poet’s works—these are all common features of the biographical notices collected in poetic tadhkeres. Less common are the two addenda that Dowlatshâh appends to his notice on Amir Shâhi. The first explains how Bâysonghor had to give up the penname Shâhi due to the poet’s fame. In the second, Dowlatshâh gives an extended account of the career of the prince Abu’l-Qâsem Bâbor, including samples of the poetry written by and about him.45 Such historical asides are peculiar to Dowlatshâh’s tadhkere, but do indicate the close connections between tadhkeres and other forms of historical writing. In the introduction to Tadhkerat al-sho’arâ, Dowlatshâh claims to have opened a new field of literary endeavor: To write the poets’ lives and strive to fix the poets’ worth … Men of learning, notwithstanding their skill and attainments, have not condescended to take this trouble.46

Dowlatshâh’s enterprise was not entirely unprecedented, however, and he cites some 37 works (mostly histories) in the course of his tadhkere, including Târikh‑e gozida, mentioned above.47 The 44 Dowlatshâh Samarqandi, Tadhkerat al-sho’arâ, pp. 771–77. 45 Dowlatshâh Samarqandi, Tadhkerat al-sho’arâ, pp. 777–90. For translations of Dowlatshâh’s accounts of other Timurid rulers, see Browne, LHP, III, pp. 499–503. 46 Edward G. Browne, “The Sources of Dawlatshāh: With Some Remarks on the Materials Available for a Literary History of Persian, and an Excursus of Bārbad and Rūdakī,” JRAS (1899), p. 44. 47 Browne, “The Sources of Dawlatshāh,” pp. 38–43.

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closest of these in purpose and structure to Tadhkerat al-sho’arâ was probably Manâqeb al-sho’arâ by Abu Tâher Khâtuni, which dates from the end of the 11th century, but no longer survives.48 Dowlatshâh did not have access to what is now the oldest surviving text containing a substantial number of poets’ biographies, Mohammad Owfi’s Lobâb al-albâb (Essence of Hearts) composed in India in 1221. After opening the first book with four short initial chapters on the nature of poetry and the first poets in Ara­bic and Persian, Owfi devotes three chapters to kings, administrators, and scholars who composed poetry, including about 120 biographies in all. He thus establishes the pervasiveness of poetry in society and shows how the ruling class not only invested in poetry through patronage, but was also invested in poetry through participation. In the second book, Owfi gives notices of some 165 professional poets in the final five chapters of the Lobâb. These are organized chronologically and grouped by the dynasties they served, which are in turn subdivided geographically.49 But it is questionable whether Lobâb al-albâb is best characterized as a biographical compendium at all. It lacks almost any details on its subjects’ lives, and the prose portions of the entries often consist of little more than a chain of laudatory epithets: Am’aq was the master of the poets of his age, and he was right to claim a magical power in writing poetry. Whatever is sweet and natural in his poetry is extremely flowing and graceful, and whatever is written with artifice has thrown all the masters into bewilderment. It is the consensus of all the poets that no one before him has composed the like of the few verses that he composed at the start of this ode (qaside), and no one has been able to compose their like after him.50

This passage is followed immediately by the first of six extended quotations from his poetry. As a whole, the Lobâb should perhaps 48 Ahmad Golchin-Ma’âni, Târikh‑e tadhkere-hâ-ye Fârsi (2nd ed., 2 vols., Tehran, 1984), II, pp. 294–302. 49 Browne, LHP, I, p. 451. 50 Mohammad Owfi, Lobâb al-albâb, ed. Edward G. Browne and Mohammad Qazvini (2 vols., London and Leiden, 1903–6), II, p. 181. Am’aq was active in Bukhara and died c. 1148.

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be better “regarded as a vast anthology than as a biography.”51 Without going to this extreme, most tadhkeres tend to devote far more space to selections of poetry than to biographical information. It is the words that they have spoken that make people worthy of inclusion in a poetic tadhkere in the first place. In this regard, biographical compendiums of poets merge with the poetry anthology. Known by a variety of names—safine, jong, or bayâz—few of these anthologies have been published, and the genre has yet to be studied in detail. But the number and variety of anthologies preserved in manuscript indicates the substantial role that they played in the “workings of literature.”52 Some anthologies appear to have served as personal notebooks and miscellanea, such as the two-volume Bayâz‑e Bidel preserved at the British Library.53 But others were clearly designed for broader public circulation, such as the Safina or Jong‑e Sâ’eb, which survives in at least five manuscript copies and seems designed specifically to underwrite and promote the poetics of the Safavid-Mughal Fresh Style (shive-ye tâze).54 While this anthology embraces the entire history of Persian poetry, other anthologies can be restricted to a single period.55 Still others, like the early fourteenth-century anthology Nozhat al-majâles (Delight of Gatherings) of Jamâl Khalil Shervâni, collect poetry in a single form, in this case, the robâ’i or quatrain.56 The close connection between the two genres allowed Mohammad Sufi Mâzandarâni’s anthology Bot-khâne (Idol Temple) to be easily transformed into the brief (and haphazard) tadhkere, Kholâsat 51 Browne, LHP, I, p. 451. 52 J. T. P. de Bruijn, “Mukhtārāt. 2. In Persian Literature,” in EI2 , VII, p. 529. 53 Charles Rieu, Catalogue of the Persian Manuscripts in the British Museum (3 vols., London, 1879–83), II, pp. 737–8 (Add. 16802–3). 54 Arhâm Morâdi, review of Safine-ye Sâ’eb, by Sayyed Sâdeq Hoseyni-Eshkavari, ed., Nâme-ye Bahârestân 11 (2010), pp. 289–94. 55 India Office MS 2678.1, for example, contains only the work of poets associated with the maktab‑e voqu’ (realist school) of the 16th century: Hermann Ethé, Catalogue of Persian Manuscripts in the Library of the India Office (2 vols., Oxford, 1903–7), col. 952 (no. 1749). 56 Jamâl Khalil Shervâni, Nozhat al-majâles, ed. Mohammad Amin Riyâhi (2nd ed., Tehran, 1996).

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al-sho’arâ (Epitome of the Poets).57 The anthology and the tadhkere serve similar purposes: preserving the poetic heritage, delineating trajectories of literary history, defining a canon of work and poets, and promoting certain standards of poetry or schools of poetics. Though Tadhkerat al-sho’arâ may not have been as groundbreaking or original as Dowlatshâh claimed, it nevertheless played a formative role in the development of the tadhkere. As with tadhkeres of Sufis, the late Timurid period set off an explosion of biographical compendiums of poets. Moreover, the expansion of poetry in all levels of urban society, encouraged by a primarily oral mode of transmission and the general availability of elementary schooling, led to the inclusion of amateur, occasional, and non-professional poets. While continuing to memorialize the model lives and canonical poetry of an idealized classical past, the emphasis of the tadhkere increasingly shifts to the continuity of that past in the present and to giving “a picture, indeed a ‘remembrance,’ of literary life in each author’s lifetime.”58 As the tradition develops to accommodate these new interests, a variety of organizational principles emerge. We can broadly distinguish between general and restricted poetic tadhkeres. General tadhkeres emulate Dowlatshâh’s ambition to encompass the entire history of the poetic tradition and grow to massive size. But chronology is only one factor in their presentation of the literary tradition, and the greatest masters of the past increasingly come to rub shoulders with the minor and part-time poets of the present. Restricted tadhkeres limit their contents according to various criteria—by period, patron, region, gender, or even genre. Brief examinations of a few formative examples must suffice us here. The turn of the 17th century witnessed the appearance of three of the best-known examples of the general tadhkere, all of which were completed in India by Iranian-born writers, but were organized 57 Golchin-Ma’âni, Târikh‑e tadhkere-hâ, I, pp. 590–97; Storey, PL, I/2, pp. 806–808. 58 Maria Szuppe, “A Glorious Past and an Outstanding Present: Writing a Collection of Biographies in Late Persianate Central Asia,” in Louise Marlow, ed., The Rhetoric of Biography: Narrating Lives in Persianate Societies (Boston and Washington, D. C., 2011), p. 45.

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in different ways. Amin Ahmad Râzi’s Haft eqlim (Seven Climes, 1598) is strictly speaking a universal tadhkere; it includes biographies of rulers, scholars, and Sufis, as well as poets. As its title suggests, its 1,560 entries are organized geographically, from south to north, according to the traditional geographic division of the ancient world. The larger climes (in particular the third and fourth) are further subdivided into cities or regions. These subdivisions are prefaced by a brief topographical description, and within these divisions, the biographies are organized in rough chronological order. In the chapter on the fourth clime, for example, the section on the city of Isfahan begins with an account of the location, name, early history, and natural features of the city, based on the authority of several earlier geographical works. Amin Ahmad does not elaborate on the architectural features of the landscape, but instead concludes with a famous poem celebrating the city by Khâqâni (d. 1199). The 68 biographies begin with the Prophet Mohammad’s companion Salmân Fâresi, followed by several brief notices of early Islamic scholars, before reaching the first extended biography of the poet Nâser‑e Khosrow (d. ca. 1077), who is inexplicably transplanted from his native region of Khorasan. After biographies of other renowned Isfahani poets of earlier centuries—most notably the father and son, Jamâl-al-Din Abd-al-Razzâq (d. 1192) and Kamâl-al-Din Esmâ’il (d. 1237)—the final 38 notices are devoted to people from the 16th century. Although this group begins with a political figure, Najm‑e Sâni, the minister of state for the first Safavid shah, Esmâ’il, contemporary and near-contemporary poets make up the vast majority of those represented.59 Throughout Haft eqlim, the biographies of the poets are generally more fully elaborated than those of other professional classes and make up the bulk of the work, if only because of the ample inclusion of samples of poetry. The effect of Amin Ahmad’s organization is to foreshorten the historical perspective and to situate poetic practice in the geographical expanse of the Persianate world.

59 Amin Ahmad Râzi, Haft eqlim, ed. Mohammad-Rezâ Tâheri (3 vols., Tehran, 1999), II, pp. 886–998.

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Taqi-al-Din Kâshi’s Kholâsat al-ash’âr va zobdat al-afkâr (Summary of Verses and Epitome of Thoughts) also blends chronological and geographical ordering. After an opening chapter on the origins, nature, and varieties of love, the main body of the work consists of four chapters (rokn) grouping biographies by period—from the start of the tradition to the end of the great Saljuqs; the later Saljuqs and Mongols; the early Timurids; and the later Timurds and early Safavids and Mughals. Though the length of time covered by each chapter decreases as the work moves toward the present, the number of poets included increases. This part of the work, containing notices on some 250 poets altogether, was completed in its first version in 1577 and in a revised version in 1585. Of equal, if not greater importance, however, is the conclusion (khâteme) that contains the biographies of 380 contemporary poets. This portion of the Kholâsat is organized by city and region into twelve geographical chapters, to which Taqi-al-Din continued to make additions until his death around 1607. Written over the course of more than thirty years, the work was first dedicated to Shah Abbâs in Isfahan and later to Ebrâhim Âdel-Shâh II in Bijapur, indicating the extent of the author’s travels during which he gathered the material for his work both from books and from first-hand contact with living poets. Modern scholars have remarked on the detail of its biographies and its copious selection of poetry, some 350,000 verses in all.60 Equally impressive and even more inclusive is Taqi-al-Din Owhadi Balyâni’s Arafât al-âsheqin va arasât al-ârefin (Arafat of Lovers and Parade Grounds of Gnostics, 1615). To organize the biographies and selections of some 3,300 poets, Owhadi for the first time utilized an alphabetical arrangement of entries, but chronology continued to play a role. Each of the 28 chapters (arse), one for each letter of the Ara­bic alphabet, is divided into three sections (ghorfe) of ancient, intermediary, and recent poets, and to assure that the earliest significant Persian poet appears at the beginning of the work, Owhadi lists him under his patronymic, Abu’lHasan Rudaki. As Owhadi relates in the Arafât’s autobiographical 60 Golchin-Ma’âni, Târikh‑e tadhkere-hâ, I, pp. 524–56; Storey, PL, I/2, pp. 803–5.

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introduction, he was born in 1565 and spent the first forty years of his life travelling through the literary circles of Persia before migrating to India in 1606, where he split his time between Gujarat and Agra. The Arafât began as a poetic anthology, which Owhadi was then encouraged to expand into a tadhkere. Like Taqi-al-Din, Owhadi combined voluminous reading of earlier sources with his own first-hand experience to present a comprehensive history of Persian poetry that integrated literary past and present.61 Comparing the biography of the poet Shakibi of Isfahan in these three tadhkeres shows how the point of view and values of the authors shape their portrayal of a contemporary subject. Amin Ahmad begins with pairs of rhyming epithets praising Shakibi’s pure genius (tab’‑e pâk-ash) and perceptive mind (dhehn‑e darrâk-ash). Two sentences suffice to summarize Shakibi’s accomplishments, education, and extensive travels before Amin Ahmad highlights the professional high point of the poet’s career. After he arrived in “this land” (in diyâr), Shakibi joined the court of Abd-al-Rahim Khân‑e Khânân and was richly reward for writing a sâqi-nâma (cupbearer’s song) in his honor, of which Amin Ahmad quotes 65 verses. “This land” refers not to Isfahan, the textual and geographical location where Shakibi’s biography is situated due to his birth, but rather to India where Amin Ahmad is writing. Despite the systematic geography of Haft eqlim, a localized authorial point of view dictates the focus of Amin Ahmad’s biography.62 By contrast, Taqi-al-Din focuses primarily on Shakibi’s youth in Isfahan, where his biography is placed according to the structural logic of the khâteme of the Kholâsât. The poet’s father, we are told, was a religious jurist, but his son took up a life of pleasure, poetry, travel, and spiritual exploration. Taqi-al-Din dwells at length on the paradox that the son’s turn away from the father is, in fact, what serves to preserve the family name, and his general musings on the 61 For a list of Owhadi’s sources, see Golchin-Ma’âni, Târikh‑e tadhkere-hâ, II, p. 7; on the Arafât more generally, see Golchin-Ma’âni, Târikh‑e tadhkere-hâ, II, pp. 1–24 and Storey, PL, I/2, pp. 808–11. 62 Amin Ahmad Râzi, Haft eqlim, II, pp. 976–77. As we will see below, the patron and genre of Shakibi’s poem would lead to his inclusion in two other restricted tadhkeres, Ma’ âther‑e Rahimi and Tadhkere-ye meykhâne.

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inheritance of temperament take up over half the entry. He makes no mention of Shakibi’s residence in India, and although he quotes twice as many verses as Amin Ahmad, none come from his sâqinâme. 63 As the latest work written, Owhadi’s Arafât al-âsheqin contains the fullest account of Shakibi’s life and career. Twice in this entry, Owhadi situates his authorial position vis-à-vis his subject. He tells us that he kept company with the young Shakibi for five or six years when they were both living in Shiraz, and he later records the date he is writing (Rajab 1023/August 1614) when he learns of the poet’s death earlier in the year. Owhadi begins his narrative of Shakibi’s life with the high point of his professional career in the court of Abd-al-Rahim, but backtracks to discuss his earlier travels and his ancestry, concluding with his final service as administrative head (sadârat) of Delhi under the Mughal emperor Jahângir. Though Owhadi began Shakibi’s biography with a rhymed phrase characterizing him as “informed of the arts of meaning and the wonders of poetry” (mostahzer‑e fonun‑e ma’âni va badâye’‑e sokhandâni), he ends with the more critical assessment that Shakibi “did not have full power in composing poetry.” Owhadi nevertheless quotes as many verses as Taqi-al-Din and lavishes special praise on Shakibi’s skills in conversation and social concourse.64 These three accounts differ in their emphasis and scope of information, but share a concern for placing Shakibi in a social network (of patronage, family, or personal affiliation) and system of values (economic, genealogical, or artistic). All later general tadhkeres, such as Vâleh Dâghestâni’s Riyâz al-sho’arâ (Garden of Poets, 1748, containing 2,594 biographies), Loft-Ali Beyg Âzar’s Âtashkade-ye Âzar (Âzar’s Fire Temple, ca. 1766 with later additions, 845 biographies), and Ali Ebrâhim 63 Taqi-al-Din Kâshâni, Kholâsat al-ash’ âr va zobdat al-afkâr (Bakhsh‑e Esfahân), ed. Abd-al-Ali Adib Borumand and Mohammad Hoseyn Nasiri-Kahnamu’i (Tehran, 2007), pp. 355–68. 64 Taqi-al-Din Mohammad Owhadi Daqâqi Balyâni, Tadhkere-ye Arafât al-âsheqin va arasât al-ârefin, ed. Sayyed Mohsen Nâji Nasrâbâdi (7 vols., Tehran, 2009), III, pp. 2032–9. Shakibi’s sociability apparently led to his inclusion in a wide range of other histories and tadhkeres: see Ahmad Golchin-Ma’âni, Kârvân‑e Hend (2 vols., Mashhad, 1990), I, pp. 638–44.

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Khân Khalil’s Sohof‑e Ebrâhim (Ebrâhim’s Pages, 1790, 3,278 biographies), are heavily dependent on these works, especially Arafât al-âsheqin, for both their organization and content.65 Nevertheless, all continue to update the poetic record, integrating their contemporaries into the rolls of the literary tradition. Even the treatment of earlier poets, through subtle changes in content, emphasis, and presentation, can serve to rewrite the tradition in accordance with the author’s tastes and poetics. Examining the development of the biography of Bâbâ Feghâni of Shiraz (d. 1519) over the course of four centuries, for example, reveals his growing importance to later poets and his careful positioning in the poetic canon. A century after the initial reports on his life, Owhadi adds an anecdote about the young Feghâni’s visit to the Timurid court at Herat and his rejection by the poets there. This historically unlikely story contributes to Owhadi’s presentation of Feghâni as a poetic innovator ahead of his time whose significance could only be recognized decades after his death. One hundred and fifty years later, Vâleh takes Feghâni’s biography as an occasion for reviewing the development of Persian poetry over the preceding three centuries with Feghâni firmly established as a key canonical figure in this process.66 As with Sufi tadhkeres, poetic tadhkeres are perhaps as important as documents of the time when they were written as of the time they memorialize. As general tadhkeres come to devote greater attention to the literary present, many tadhkeres restricted by period set aside the past entirely and deal exclusively with the biographies of contemporary poets. The inaugural work of this type of tadhkere was another product of the late Timurid court in Khorasan. Mir Ali-Shir Navâ’i’s Majâles al-nafâyes (Assemblies of the Refined, ca. 1491) was originally written in Chaghatay Turkish. Most of the biographies, however, are of poets who wrote in Persian, and the Majâles was soon translated. Navâ’i’s authorial perspective dictates the organization of his tadhkere. The first three chapters divide poets 65 On these works, see Golchin-Ma’âni, Târikh‑e tadhkere-hâ, I, pp. 650–66; I, pp. 3–17; and I, pp. 759–63, respectively; and Storey, PL, I/2, pp. 830–33; I/2, pp. 868–73; and I/2, p. 877, respectively. 66 For further details, see Losensky, Welcoming Fighānī, pp. 17–55.

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according to whether or not Ali-Shir had met them and whether they were still living at the time he wrote. In the final five chapters, the temporal-personal perspective gives way to the social-geographical; poets are grouped according to whether or not they are from Khorasan and to their position in the social hierarchy, ascending from learned men who occasionally wrote poetry to noblemen, to members of the Timurid royal house, and finally to the ruler Sultan Hoseyn Bâyqarâ, whose government was largely administered by the author himself. The two earliest Persian translations, completed in 1521 and 1522, preserve this structure, but add material to bring the work up to date. Fakhri Haravi’s translation, Latâyef-nâme (Book of Subtleties), was also written in Herat and adds a chapter on living poets who were not included in the original. In the translation prepared in Istanbul by Hakim-Shâh Mohammad Qazvini, Sultan Hoseyn is moved to the seventh chapter, and the eighth chapter instead culminates with the poets associated with the court of the Ottoman sultan Salim, shifting the work politically and geographically while retaining its organizational principles.67 Majâles al-nafâyes had its most direct influence on tadhkeres written in Central Asia. Sayyed Hasan Nesâri Bokhâri modeled his Modhakker‑e ahbâb (Remembering Friends, 1567) on the first three chapters of the Majâles. Four chapters divide the contemporary poets of Bukhara into the deceased and the living and those known and those unknown to the author. This author-oriented perspective is reinforced by a conclusion that deals with members of Nesâri’s family.68 Changing the verbal noun tadhkere to the active participle modhakker aptly marks the turn to the present. Writing at about the same time as Nesâri, the Safavid prince Sâm Mirzâ, younger brother of Shah Tahmâsp, constructed his tadhkere of contemporary poets, Tohfe-ye Sâmi (Sâm’s Gift, ca. 1550), according to another principle seen in Navâ’i’s Majâles—social hierarchy. The work begins with a chapter on his father, Shah 67 See Ali-Shir Navâ’i, Tadhkere-ye Majâles al-nafâyes [Two 16 th Century Persian Translations], ed. Ali-Asghar Hekmat (Tehran, 1984). 68 For further development of the Central Asian tradition, see Szuppe, “A Glorious Past.”

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Esmâ’il, and other royalty, and proceeds through religious dignitaries, government officials, and other notables who occasionally composed poetry. Chapter five, the longest in the book, is devoted to professional poets, who are known primarily by their pennames, but Sâm Mirzâ concludes with short chapters on poets writing in Turkish and poets from the lower classes. While this final chapter openly acknowledges the increasing penetration of poetry into all levels of urban society, including notices on a locksmith, a barber, and a paper seller, chapter five also contains biographies of professional poets who rose from the ranks of crafts and trades, such as a knife maker, a construction supervisor, and a confectioner.69 The use of poetry as the prevalent medium of social conviviality and communication throughout society becomes even clearer in a later tadhkere on contemporary poets, Tadhkere-ye Nasrâbâdi (1679). Although the chapters of this work ostensibly follow the descending social hierarchy of Tohfe-ye Sâmi, Tâher Nasrâbâdi came from a family of small landholders and never sought a position in the court. His tadhkere is instead informed by his experiences roaming the coffeehouses and religious schools of Isfahan, and his accounts of the literary activities of royalty note their visits to these popular social venues.70 Closely related to tadhkeres restricted by period are those limited to the poets of a particular patron, an orientation we noted in the final chapter of Hakim-Shâh’s translation of Majâles al-nafâyes. Such tadhkeres tend to be integrated into larger hybrid works combining an historical account of the life of the patron with a collection of the biographies of the notables of his court. One well-known example of this blended genre is Ma’âther al-Rahimi (Glories of Rahim, 1616) by Abd-al-Bâqi Nahâvandi. Focusing on the life of the famous Mughal generalissimo and patron of the arts, Abd-alRahim Khân‑e Khânân, the work begins with an account of his ancestors and goes on to provide the background and narrative of Abd-al-Rahim’s conquests. In a lengthy final chapter, Nahâvandi 69 Losensky, Welcoming Fighāni, p. 137. 70 See, for example, Mohammad Tâher Nasrâbâdi, Tadhkere-ye Nasrâbâdi, ed. Mohsen Tâji Nasrâbâdi (2 vols., Tehran, 1999), I, p. 343.

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includes detailed notices on 106 poets who were associated with his court. Such a patron-centered approach is generally more common in the Mughal realm than other parts of the Persianate world.71 Other criteria are less frequently used to define the range of poetic tadhkeres. Some collect biographies of poets from a certain region. As its title indicates, the eighteenth-century Tadhkere-ye sho’arâ-ye Kashmir (Tadhkere of the Poets of Kashmir) by Aslah Kashmiri Mirzâ is limited to poets who were either born in Kashmir or visited the region, including some 300 poets in all. This served as a model for a far more detailed work of the same name by the modern scholar Hosâm-al-Din Râshedi.72 Another location-based compilation that demonstrates the continuity of the tadhkere tradition into the 20th century is Kârvân‑e Hend (Caravan to India) by Ahmad Golchin-Ma’âni. Gathering together biographical notices from a wide range of published and unpublished sources, this work is restricted by the movement between two regions, embracing some 750 Iranian-born poets who traveled to India. The criterion of place points toward another generic blend. Local histories usually define a city or region in terms of the people who lived there and often include sections devoted entirely to the biographies of various classes of residents, prominently including poets.73 Less common than tadhkeres restricted by period, patron, and place are tadhkeres restricted by gender or genre. Pre-modern literary culture was homosocial, and by default most tadhkeres are male oriented. Gender-restricted tadhkeres are thus those devoted to women poets. The earliest known example is Fakhri Haravi’s Javâher al-ajâ’eb (Jewels of Wonder, 1556), containing notices on 71 Golchin-Ma’âni, Târikh‑e tadhkere-hâ, II, pp. 746–56. For an example of a similar treatment of poets from the reign of Shâh Jahân, see Golchin-Ma’âni, Târikh‑e tadhkere-hâ, II, pp. 682–84 (Amal‑e sâleh). 72 Mohammad Aslah, Tadhkere-ye sho’arâ-ye Kashmir, ed. Hosâm al-Din Râshedi (Karachi, 1967); Hosâm al-Din Râshedi, Tadhkere-ye sho’arâ-ye Kashmir: Takmile-ye Tadhkere-ye sho’arâ-ye Kashmir‑e Mohammad Aslah Mirzâ (4 vols., Karachi, 1967). 73 For example, the entire third volume of Jâme’‑ e Mofidi, a history of Yazd completed in 1679, is devoted to biographical notices; poets appear in the ninth chapter of the second section: Mohammad Mofid Mostowfi Bâfqi, Jâme‑e Mofidi, ed. Iraj Afshâr (3 vols., Tehran, 2006), II, pp. 422–70.

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25 women poets.74 Changes in women’s role in society in the 19th and 20th centuries led to the writing of several gender-restricted tadhkeres, such as Mohammad Sadiq Âkhundzâde’s Tadhkerat al-nesâ (Memorial of Women, 1909).75 Most unusual are tadhkeres limited to poets who wrote in a particular genre. Fakhr-al-Zamâni Qazvini’s Tadhkere-ye meykhâne (Memorial of the Tavern, 1619) is restricted in principle, if not in practice, to poets who composed in the genre of the sâqi-nâme or cupbearer’s song. The choice of genre effectively restricts the work by period as well, since the sâqi-nâme only became an independent genre at the start of the 16th century; moreover, in the final section of the book, Fakhr-al-Zamâni violates his own selection criterion by including contemporary poets who have yet to write a sâqi-nâme.

4. Autobiography: an Inchoate Tradition Tadhkeres restricted by period focus on poets contemporary with the author and often inscribe this point of view into the text itself by including an account of the author’s own life. Both Tadhkere-ye Nasrâbâdi and Tadhkere-ye meykhâne, for example, include lengthy notices on the authors themselves.76 Though the self-reflexive perspective of autobiography never coalesces into a clearly defined genre, the Persian tradition does offer some notable instances of writing one’s own life. The most well-known is the memoir of the founder of the Mughal dynasty, Zahir-al-Din Mohammad Bâbor (d. 1530). Another product of late Timurid culture and, like Navâ’i’s Majâles, originally written in Chaghatay 74 See Maria Szuppe, “The ‘Jewels of Wonder’: Learned Ladies and Princess Politicians in the Provinces of Early Safavid Iran,” in G. R. G. Hambly, ed., Women in the Medieval Islamic World (New York, 1999), pp. 325–45. 75 See Golchin-Ma’âni, Târikh‑e tadhkere-hâ, I, pp. 394–97; for other nineteenth-century tadhkeres on women, see Sunil Sharma, “From ‘Ā’esha to Nur Jahān: The Shaping of a Classical Persian Poetic Canon of Women,” Journal of Persianate Studies 2 (2009), pp. 148–164. 76 Fakhr-al-Zamâni Qazvini, Meykhâne, pp. 758–83; Nasrâbâdi, Tadhkere-ye Nasrâbâdi, II, pp. 665–77.

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Turkish, Bâbor-nâme or Vâqe’ât‑e Bâbori gives a journal-like account of the events in the author’s life (with several long gaps) from 1494–1529. This narrative contains numerous asides on ethical and aesthetic matters, and following the mention of Sultan Hoseyn’s death in 1506, even includes a mini-tadhkere of the poets and notables of his court.77 Even as Bâbor was writing the work, a member of his entourage began translating it into Persian and other translations followed later in the 16th century.78 Bâbor’s model apparently inspired similar political memoirs by other members of the Mughal royal house. Homâyun-nâme was written by the Emperor Humâyun’s sister, Golbadan Begom, apparently at his son Akbar’s request,79 and Bâbor’s great-grandson, the Emperor Jahângir, kept his own semi-public diary, Jahângir-nâme (or Tuzok‑e Jahângiri) over the first nineteen years of his reign from 1605–24.80 Since none of these works attempts to give a coherent narrative from birth to the time of writing, none can be considered autobiography in the strict sense, but their first-person perspective on contemporary events make them as much works of life writing as of history. Poets also penned a number of such independent autobiographical memoirs. Again stemming from the late Timurid milieu is Zeyn-al-Din Mahmud Vâsefi’s Badâye’ al-vaqâye’ (Marvels of Events, ca. 1532–33). In it, the author presents detailed, first-hand accounts of his experiences as a participant in the literary salons of both Herat and, after his escape from the Safavid conquest of this city, Bukhara, and other cities of Central Asia.81 Two and a half centuries later, the poet Hazin Lâhiji (d. 1766) also gave an account of his flight from a military invasion, describing his escape from the Afghan conquest of Isfahan and his eventual refuge in India. This work, known as Târikh‑e or Tadhkere-ye ahvâl (History or 77 Zahir-al-Din Mohammad Bâbor, Bâbor-nâme, tr. Wheeler M. Thackston as The Baburnama: Memoirs of Babur, Prince and Emperor (New York, 2002), pp. 202–19. 78 Golchin-Ma’âni, Târikh‑e tadhkere-hâ, II, pp. 459–66. 79 Munibur Rahman, “Golbadan Bēgom,” in EIr, XI, pp. 64–65. 80 Nur-al-Din Mohammad Jahângir, Jahângir-nâme, tr. Wheeler M. Thackston as The Jahangirnama: Memoirs of Jahangir, Emperor of India (Washington, DC, 1999). 81 Golchin-Ma’âni, Târikh‑e tadhkere-hâ, II, pp. 467–82.

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Memoir of [my] Circumstances, 1742), serves as almost an autobiographical introduction to his tadhkere of contemporary poets, Tadhkerat al-mo’âserin, written ten years later.82 Finally, Bidel of Dehli’s notoriously recondite Chahâr onsor (Four Elements, 1704) is perhaps as close as the pre-modern Persian tradition comes to a literary autobiography. Beginning with his childhood and his teachers, Chahâr onsor includes accounts of the poet’s travels and religious experiences interspersed with a wide variety of philosophical and mystical disquisitions.83

5. Conclusions Rezâ Qoli Khân Hedâyat bridges the classical literary tradition and the age of modern scholarship and seems to mark the end of a tradition with major works in both the Sufi and poetic traditions of collective biographies: Riyâz al-ârefin (Meadow of Gnostics, 1844) and Majma’ al-fosahâ (Gathering of the Eloquent, 1868).84 But as we have noted, tadhkere-like works are still being written, and pre-modern Persian life writing continues to offers a vital resource for modern scholarship open to many avenues of inquiry. Here we can only indicate a few of the possible approaches to the array of information presented by these complex and often hybrid genres. Perhaps the most common scholarly use of the tadhkere and the manâqeb today is to recast the information they contain into framework of modern biography. Comparative, critical reading of the biographies of a specific individual strives to sift through all available sources to produce consistent, continuous, and empirically plausible life narrative, establishing significant dates, actions, and achievements from an ostensibly non-judgmental point of view. This procedure, typified by today’s biographical encyclopedia entry, would be familiar to many tadhkere authors, who often gathered and weighed diverse sources, both written and oral, to 82 Storey, PL, I/2, pp. 840–49. 83 Sharif Husain Qasemi, “Čahār onṣor,” in EIr, IV, pp. 623–24. 84 Golchin-Ma’âni, Târikh‑e tadhkere-hâ, II, pp. 810–11 and II, pp. 144–53.

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establish the most reliable and accurate account of their subjects. Many tadhkeres list or refer to their sources and comment explicitly on how one account differs from another. From this perspective, tadhkeres and manâqebs are storehouses of data for establishing basic parameters of historical inquiry, the who, what, when, and where. But as the etymology of the word tadhkere reminds us, all historical inquiry is a response to both the perceived realities of the past and the values and needs of the present. It is an act of remembrance from the implicit point of view of the now. Examination of these sources for their own sake—of their organization, production, social contexts, and rhetorical purposes—can offer insights into the values of the writers and communities that produced them through determining what they considered worth remembering and memorializing. Even when the data provided by tadhkere and manâqeb appears unreliable or implausible by modern positivistic standards, these works can provide first-hand information about the later reception and reputation of the subject. Rather than asking whether or not a miracle occurred, it may be more useful to consider what purpose an anecdote serves in its portrayal of the extraordinary and exemplary: How does it serve to establish authority, to promote certain values, and to build self and communal identity? It is perhaps less important whether or not a poet visited a certain city than what critical judgment is made by saying he did. This source-oriented perspective highlights not the factual content of the biographies, but rather the conclusions and lessons drawn from that data. Herein lies the importance of the prefatory dedications and disquisitions that reveal the cultural context and motivations of the act of remembrance. The collective nature of most pre-modern life writing indicates that individuals were remembered above all in terms of their communal identity as members of a certain social group or profession and for the exemplary ways in which they fulfilled (or failed to fulfill) the demands of group identity, through miraculous deeds, exemplary actions, and transformative eloquence. Even in many of the manâqeb that ostensibly focus on the individual, the effect of these biographical genres is to stress collective continuities of 373

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affiliation and practice over time. In divorcing the individual life from its collectivity and the empirical facts from their presentational framework, modern scholars ignore the frameworks of value and signification that give these lives meaning. Although the prevalence of biography seems to imply an author-centered approach to poetry or an approach to religion based on extraordinary spiritual virtuosos, the typical modes of Persian biographical writing rather suggest that the individual actor is always embedded in a network of social behavior across time. Individuals are active participants in patterns of affiliation, both within a certain chain of succession or within a certain literary style. These considerations encourage studies of topics such as social networks (prosopography), patterns of behavior (normative ethics), or systems of cultural, literary, or religious beliefs and values (historical anthropology or reception studies). The latter two areas of inquiry in particular require attentiveness not just to the narrative life stories of the biographical subjects, but also to the words they speak. The biographies of both Sufis and poets place as much, if not more, emphasis on the words of their subject as on their deeds; the words spoken and heard in public acts of communication are what justify the inclusion of an individual in the collective memory and justify the very writing of tadhkeres and manâqeb. How these words are selected, presented, and evaluated opens up not only the unfolding history of a field of verbal discourse, but also the evolving vision of language, human nature, society, and the world in which these words are embedded and to which they give meaning.

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PERSIAN PROSE Sharma, Sunil. “From ʿĀ’esha to Nur Jahān: The Shaping of a Classical Persian Poetic Canon of Women.” Journal of Persianate Studies 2 (2009), pp. 148–64. Storey, Charles. PL. Szuppe, Maria. “A Glorious Past and an Outstanding Present: Writing a Collection of Biographies in Late Persianate Central Asia.” In Louise Marlow, ed., The Rhetoric of Biography: Narrating Lives in Persianate Societies, Boston and Washington, D. C., 2011, pp. 41–88. ­—. “The ‘Jewels of Wonder’: Learned Ladies and Princess Politicians in the Provinces of Early Safavid Iran.” In G. R. G. Hambly, ed., Women in the Medival Islamic World. New York, 1999. Taqi-al-Din Kâshâni. Kholâṣat al-ashʿ âr va zobdat al-afkâr (Bakhsh‑e Eṣfahân). Eds. ʿAbd-al-ʿAli Adib Borumand and Moḥammad Ḥoseyn Naṣiri-Kahnamuʾi. Tehran, 2007.

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CHAPTER 8 STORIES AND TALES: ENTERTAINMENT AS LITERATURE Mehran Afshari1 For the purposes of classification, pre-modern prose stories in Persian can be divided according to their length into long and short. It should be said that there was no substantial critical distinction in the usage of such terms as dâstân, qesse, ravâyat, and hekâyat in Persian literary discourse, and writers in the past paid scant attention to classifying the various categories of Persian stories in terms of form and size and applying precise terminology for different kinds of narrative. Nevertheless, and given the Ara­bic etymology of the terms qesse and hekâyat, which were both in common usage from early on in Persian, we could designate longer pre-modern stories as qesse and shorter ones as hekâyat. Moreover, such a classification is not without precedence in writings in Persian from earlier times. Qesse comes from the Ara­bic qassa, “to follow up and pursue,” and is therefore better suited as a term for long stories, where the listener follows and pursues the tale step by step as it is being narrated by the teller. Hekâyat is derived from hakâ in the sense of imitating or acting in the manner of someone else. In older Persian texts it was applied mostly to short tales within a restricted time and location and featuring two or three characters in conversation. Evidence from the social history of Iran indicates that as early as the 12 th century, and perhaps even earlier, two social groups were in the profession of transmitting Persian stories. Long stories were the domain of street entertainers (ma’rake-girân), itinerant 1

This chapter was originally written in Persian, and I am grateful to Mohsen Ashtiany for undertaking its translation.

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storytellers, and professional narrators (naqqâlân), while short tales were told by those engaged in delivering anecdotes and stories from the pulpit (menbar), i. e., preachers engaged in traditional sessions of communal religious remembrance and instruction. In other words, itinerant and professional storytellers were engaged in telling qesse(s) while relating hekâyat(s) was the business of religious preachers. We learn a great deal about the content and style of Persian stories, long and short, through a better understanding of these two social groups.

1. Itinerant Storytellers and Professional Narrators (naqqâls) There is evidence from pre-Islamic Iran, at least as early as the era of the Arsacids, for the existence of storytellers, called gôsân (minstrels), entertaining both the public at large and the royal court with their stories and songs, accompanied by music.2 In contemporary Iran, professional musician-story tellers whose stories are told accompanied by musical accompaniments and chants still exist. They are called by different names in different regions. For example, in Azerbaijan they are âsheq(s).3 The same word is used in Kurdistan where the long narratives are known as beyt(s), and in Mâzanderân they are called mirzâ(s).4 In spite of all these examples from adjacent traditions, we have no evidence that the naqqâlân, who recited Persian stories in prose and not in verse, accompanied them with songs or music. This observation goes against the theory that naqqâli is an offshoot of the ancient tradition of gôsâns, along with the subsequent local 2 3 4

Mary Boyce, “The Parthian gōsān and Iranian Minstrel Tradition,” JRAS (1957), pp. 9–45. For further information, see Charlotte C. Albright. “ʿĀšeq,” in EIr, II, pp. 741–42. For further information, see K. Yamamoto, “Naqqâli: Professional Iranian Storytelling” in Ph. G. Kreyenbroek and U. Marzolph, eds., Oral Literature of Iranian Languages: Kurdish, Pashto, Balochi, Ossetic, Persian and Tajik, HPL XVIII Companion Vol. II (London, 2010), Chapter 10, pp. 240–57.

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traditions of storytelling accompanied by music in different regions of Iran as described above. The Persian naqqâli appears to be quite a different phenomenon. In the opinion of the present writer, some of the characteristics of present-day naqqâli in Iran have some precedence in ancient Iran and elsewhere. This includes the habit of holding in their hand a short teaching-baton while narrating a story,5 which can be compared with the practice of Arab orators in the 8th and 9th centuries, who, according to Jâhez (d. 869) would hold a stick or a long-stemmed reed in their hand during their oration.6 There are other similarities, too, in the way that in the beginning of naqqâli stories after inserting the word ammâ (let us go on) they begin with rhyming phrases such as râviyân‑e akhbâr va tutiyân‑e shekar-shekan‑e shirin goftâr (narrators of news and sweet spoken and eloquent parrots), which is reminiscent of the rhyming prose of Arab orators as well as the fact that the Arab orators, after the standard praise and eulogies of the Prophet, would start their oration (khotbe) with ammâ ba’d (“let us get on with the story”). Turning to pre-Islamic Iran itself, it appears that there was indeed a very ancient tradition of narrating heroic stories. This is reflected in Samak‑e ayyâr, a Persian naqqâli narrative which was apparently compiled and written down in the 12 th century. It is so replete with the popular beliefs and traditions of Iranians before the advent of Islam, that it could be argued that it may well be based on a much more ancient original narrative relating to pre-Islamic Iran.7 Abd-al-Jalil Qazvini Râzi, the 12 th century author of Ketâb al-naqz (Book of Refutation), a pro-Shi’ite polemical work, refers to street entertainers in its pure Persian form of hengâme-gostarân (lit. those who raise a tumult / gather a crowd around them; i. e., storytellers). 5

6 7

On the various tools of the trade for naqqâli, including the teaching stick or rod (ta’limi), see my interview with the contemporary naqqâl, Morshed Vali-Allâh Torâbi, in the preface to Mehran Afshâri and Mehdi Madâyeni, eds., Haft lashkar (tumâr‑e jâme’‑e naqqâlân) az Kayumarth tâ Bahman (Tehran, 1998), p. 27. Abu Othmân Amr b. Bahr Jâhez, al-Bayân wa’l-tabyin, ed. Abd-al-Salâm Mohammad Hârun (Beirut, 1948), p. 370. Mehrdâd Bahâr, Jostâri chand dar farhang‑e Irân (Tehran, 1994), pp. 163–64.

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He points out that some of these entertainers related ancient Persian stories such as those about Rostam, Sorkhâb (Sohrâb), Esfandiyâr, Kâvus, and Zâl.8 Apparently owing to his Shi’ite sympathies and hostility towards the Sunnis, the author regarded these entertainers as Sunnis, thereby confronting the Shi’ite manâqeb-khwâns (public narrators of laudable pious deeds by the Shi’ite Imams) who would be reciting in the same public arenas their poems in praise of Imam Ali, the first Shi’ite Imam and cousin and son-in-law of the Prophet. In the 15 th century, the prolific writer Hoseyn Vâ’ez Kâshefi devoted a detailed and extensive chapter of his Fotovvat-nâme-ye soltâni (The Royal Book of Chivalry) to street-entertainers, including naqqâlân and storytellers.9 The fact that they are mentioned in a book on fotovvat (devoted to the notions of chivalry and young manliness with communal rituals) demonstrates the dependence of these street-entertainers to groups and organizations that come under the banner of fotovvat. With reference to this context, we can appreciate the great frequency with which ayyârs are mentioned in the stories of naqqâlân and itinerant storytellers and why one of the most often repeated themes of their tales is the account of their chivalrous deeds and ingenious tricks.10 Contrary to the claims of the author of Naqz, who had described naqqâls and those who recited the eulogies of the Imams (manâqeb-khwâns) as two opposing and rival groups, Fotovvat-nâme-ye soltâni presents them as one group, that of the ma’rake-girân (itinerant street entertainers).11 Vâ’ez Kâshefi discusses both the manâqeb-khwâns (for whom he uses the collective terms maddâhân and gharrâ-khwân) and the itinerant storytellers under one heading of ahl‑e sokhan (those whose tools of trade are words and speech).12 This terminology was carried out into the 19 th   8 Abd-al-Jalil Qazvini Râzi, Naqz: ma’ruf be Ba’z mathâleb al-nawâseb fi naqz fazâ’eh al-rawâfez, ed. Mir Jalâl-al-Din Ormavi (Tehran, 1979), p. 67.   9 Mowlânâ Hoseyn Vâ’ez Kâshefi Sabzavâri, Fotovvat-nâme-ye soltâni, ed. Mohammad-Ja’far Mahjub (Tehran, 1971), pp. 275–343. 10 Regarding notions and themes of ayyâri in such stories, see Abd-al-­Hoseyn Zarrinkub, Az gozashte-ye adabi-ye Irân (3rd ed., Tehran, 2006), pp. 110–12. 11 Kâshefi Sabzavâri, Fotovvat-nâme-ye soltâni, pp. 280–92. 12 Kâshefi Sabzavâri, Fotovvat-nâme-ye soltâni, p. 280.

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and early 20 th centuries. According to Kâshefi, in the 15 th century, the street entertainer would sit on a stool in his arena, clutching a battle axe, and would retell his stories in a mixture of prose and verse. Generally, the stories were told in prose but at intervals, the prose would be interrupted, and poems with similar themes would be recited. At the end of each session, the story teller would ask for money from the audience.13 In more recent times, these offerings of money were referred to as cherâgh (light).14 Some people skilled at speedwriting would attend the naqqâli sessions and take down verbatim what they heard from the naqqâls. This explains why at times the exact words spoken by the naqqâl to his audience, when he addressed them directly outside the frame of the story itself, would appear in the manuscript copies of naqqâli stories. For instance, at a certain stage in the Samak‑e ayyâr story, we have the naqqâl telling his audience, “If you want to learn what happened next to Samak, you should give me some money. If you don’t have any, give me some sweets (sahni halvâ), and if you cannot, recite a prayer for me.”15 Another example is the naqqâl’s direction in the story of Hoseyn‑e Kord‑e Shabestari, where he instructs his audience, “Listeners, now’s the time to vent your ridicule (jây‑e shishaki-st)!”16 These show that someone adept at speedwriting would take down the exact words of the naqqâl in one of his sessions. One story could therefore be recited by many different naqqâls in different towns using their own preferences and ways of delivery, and this explains why different copies of the same story taken down at their sessions would share the same content and matter but would not be identical in manner and diction.17 13 Kâshefi Sabzavâri, Fotovvat-nâme-ye soltâni, p. 304. 14 Mohammad-Ali Jamâlzâde, Farhang‑e loghât‑e âmmiyâne (Tehran, 1962), p. 304. 15 Farâmarz b. Khodâdâd Arrajâni, Samak‑e ayyâr, ed. Parviz Nâtel-Khânlari (4 vols., repr. Tehran, 2006), IV, p. 101. 16 Qesse-ye Hoseyn‑e Kord‑e Shabestari bar asâs‑e ravâyat‑e nâ-shenâkhte, mowsum be Hoseyn-nâme, eds. Iraj Afshâr and Mehrân Afshâri (Tehran, 2006), p. 278. 17 Mohammad-Ja’far Mahjub, Adabiyyât‑e âmmiyâne-ye Irân, ed. Hasan Dhu’l-Faqâri (2 vols. in 1, Tehran, 2003), I, pp. 596–97.

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It appears that some itinerant storytellers and naqqâls would engage in reading their stories aloud from books to their audience, who were mostly illiterate. Among these stories one can cite Firuzshâh-nâme (The Book of Firuzshâh) or Qesse-ye Firuzshâh (Story of Firuzshâh), of which there is an extant version belonging to the 15 th century and written down by Mahmud Daftar-Khwân.18 At present too, there are two kinds of naqqâli: Some naqqâls retell stories from the Shâh-nâme, adding their own additions and elaborations, in performances spiced with their own gesticulation. Others, who are called Shâh-nâme reciters (Shâh-nâme-khwân), open the Shâh-nâme in front of them and read (or declaim) stories from it in prose for their audience, and from time to time recite some verses from it in a mellifluous tone. Shâh-nâme reciters would read sitting down and do not go in for any gestures in the manner of the naqqâls.19 The naqqâls would tell their stories in a serial manner, over the course of days or even months, to their public. Every day, they would relate their stories in a specific location in the town, and when they reached a particularly exciting spot in the narrative, would cut short their storytelling and invite the people to return the next day and listen to the rest of the story in the same place. From the Safavid era (i. e., the 16 th century) on, the coffee-houses became the locus of naqqâli. Before then, the naqqâls would set themselves up in street corners and public places such as the main crossroads in bazaars. The qossâs, as well as reciting stories about figures from the past, also drew on Qur’anic verses and sayings of the Prophet and would encourage the public to attend to their religious duties,20 and it seems the naqqâls were similar to them. Apparently, it is this aspect, that of guidance, which lies behind the naqqâl being addressed as morshed (spiritual guide) in contemporary Persian. 18

Firuzshâh-nâme, donbâle-ye Dârâb-nâme bar asâs‑e ravâyat‑e Mohammad Bighami, ed. Iraj Afshâr and Mehrân Afshâri (Tehran, 2009), introd. by Mehrân Afshâri, pp. 14–15. 19 Afshâri and Madâyeni, eds., Haft lashkar, introd., p. 27. 20 Tâj-al-Din Abd-al-Vahhâb Sabki, Mo’id al-na’am wa mobid al-naqqam (Beirut, 1986), p. 89.

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Some storytellers were attached to the courts of kings and their viziers and performed for them.21 Storytelling was extremely popular during the Safavid period (16 th-17 th centuries). There were numerous naqqâls and reciters of the Shâh-nâme whose names are recorded in biographical compilations of the time, including that of Nasrâbâdi.22 A famous naqqâl of the Safavid era was Hoseynâ, a wandering dervish who had adopted the alias “Sabuhi” (morning draught) and displayed great skill in reciting stories from Qesse-ye Hamze (Story of Hamze, the prophet’s uncle) and the Shâh-nâme.23 With the advent of the era of mass communication and the increasing popularity of the theatre, cinema, radio, and television, naqqâli gradually started the downward path of decline, but even now in our time, some elders in the profession have remained who still write down stories from the Shâh-nâme and other sources of the Iranian national epic in the manner and style of naqqâli and, to use their own expression, produce tumârs (scrolls).24 An overall study of the works of the naqqâls demonstrate how some patterns and plots recur in them and how they often share the same terminology and special terms and common formulaic epithets. The main outlines of many of the stories told by naqqâls recount how a prince hailing from one land falls head over heels in love with a princess from another realm, which usually happens to be a hostile territory. In order to attain his beloved, the lover has therefore to undergo many a travail and engage in many battles. For example, in Qesse-ye Samak‑e ayyâr, Khorshid Shah, the prince of Aleppo, falls in love with Mah-Pari, the daughter of the Chinese Emperor (khâqân); in Firuzshâh-nâme, Firuzshâh, the son of Dârâb, the Kayanid king of Iran, with Eyn-al-Hayât, daughter of the king of Yemen; in Qesse-ye Hamze or Hamze-nâme, the Commander of the Faithful, Hamze of Arabia, is enamored of Mehr-negâr, daughter of Anushirvân, the Sassanid king. The 21 Zeyn-al-Din Mahmud Vâsefi, Badâye’-al-vaqâye’, ed. Aleksandr Boldyrev (2 vols., Tehran, 1970), I, pp. 479–80. 22 Afshâri and Madâyeni, eds., Haft lashkar, introd., p. 23. 23 Mohammad-Tâher Nasrâbâdi, Tadhkere-ye Nasrâbâdi, ed. Vahid Dastgerdi (Tehran, 1938), p. 357. 24 Afshâri and Madâyeni, eds., Haft lashkar, introd., pp. 26–82.

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main overall plot of these stories relates how these lovers are finally united. In the Qajar period too, Naqib-al-Mamâlek, the naqqâl to the court of Nâser-al-Din Shah, composed the story of Amir Arsalân along the same lines. On the whole, in these stories of the naqqâls, similar to those in Ferdowsi’s Shâh-nâme, marriages are usually exogamic and endogamy is rare. In some of the stories of naqqâls, it is the heroic feats and braveries of a champion or a local hero which is the focus of the story and around which the plot revolves. The main leitmotiv of these stories is no longer love, but war and struggle for a certain creed or for the preservation of home territory and land. Hoseyn‑e Kord falls into this category. The naqqâls often included historical figures and heroes into the realm of their stories; and in some of their tales, the real heroes are historical figures whose life stories are intermingled with fable and imaginary discourse, such as Eskandar-nâme (The Book of Alexander), Abu-Moslem-nâme (The Book of Abu-Moslem) and Hamze-nâme (The Book of Hamze). Some of the naqqâls of the Safavid period adopted this course with the Safavid kings themselves, and produced books about them in the style and manner of the naqqâli narrative. These books were usually referred to under the generic label of Âlam-ârâ (Adornment of the World), of which, two examples have been published: Âlam-ârâ-ye Shâh Esmâ’il (Narrative of Shah Esmâ’il’s life) and Âlam-ârâ-ye Shâh Tahmâsb (Narrative of Shah Tahmâsb’s life).25 In these books history and fiction are mixed together. Perhaps it could be said that in such books as Eskandar-nâme, Abu-Moslem-nâme and Hamze-nâme, fiction gets the better of history, while in the case of Âlam-ârây‑e Shâh Esmâ’il and Âlam-ârây‑e Shâh Tahmâsb, the historical ingredient is more dominant than the fictional element. 25 Âlam-ârây‑e Shâh Esmâ’il, ed. Asghar Montazer-Sâheb (Tehran, 1970); Âlam-ârây‑e Safavi, ed. Yadollâh Shokri (Tehran, 1985); Jahângoshây‑e Khâqân, introd. by Datta Muztar (facsimile ed., Islamabad, 1986); Âlamârây‑e Shâh Tahmâsb, ed. Iraj Afshâr (Tehran, 1991). See also Barry Wood, ed. and tr., The Adventures of Shāh Esmāʿ il: A Seventeenth-Century Popular Romance (Leiden and Boston, 2018).

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One of the most exciting and frequently used motifs in the stories of the naqqâls is the ayyâri trickeries, such as altering one’s appearance or going disguised in different clothes, using knock-out drops to render one’s enemies unconscious, digging tunnels to gain access to a house or a military camp or the treasury of one’s foes, stealing, kidnapping, camouflaging oneself for night sorties, and using special tools for nocturnal thievery. In truth, the main delight of these stories is in the description of the trickery and legerdemain performed by the ayyârs. They are also fleet-footed and take on the task of messengers on foot.26 In pre-Safavid stories, including Firuzshâh-nâme, the ayyârs appear in the service of the kings and their warriors and belong to a very different and distinct inferior class; but in later stories, including Qesse-ye Hoseyn‑e Kord‑e Shabestari (Story of Hoseyn‑e Kord‑e Shabestari), the court champions and warriors perform the same functions as the ayyârs, with their tricks-of-the-trade, and even the Safavid Shah Abbâs behaves at times in an ayyâri fashion.27 In Haft Lashkar (Seven Armies), even the heroes of the Shâh-nâme also behave and act as ayyârs.28 Another recurrent motif in naqqâli stories is the presence of paris (peris, fairies) and accounts of their conduct. In Ancient Iran, paris differ from jinns, divs, and jâdus (sorcerers), and in stories that show traces of a more ancient origin, such as Samak‑e ayyâr, the pari, as in Zoroastrian texts, is malevolent and differs from jinns and sorcerers.29 In Samak‑e ayyâr, the malevolent pari, Qebt, is male in gender. Of course, along with maleficent paris, there are also benevolent paris who come to the aid of the characters in the story. In many stories, marriage between the main hero and a pari is quite common. For example, in the Eskandar-nâme, Eskandar married Arâqit the Pari,30 and in Hamze-nâme, Hamze marries 26 Mahjub, Adabiyyât‑e âmmiyâne, II, pp. 996–1014; Zarrinkub, Az gozashte-­ye adabi-ye Irân, pp. 110–111. 27 Qesse-ye Hoseyn‑e Kord‑e Shabestari, introd. Mehrân Afshâri, p. 33. 28 Afshâri and Madâyeni, eds., Haft lashkar, introd., p. 43. 29 On paris, see Mehrân Afshâri, Tâze be tâze, now be now (Tehran, 2006), pp. 47–61. 30 Eskandar-nâme: revâyat-e Fârsi az Kalistenes-e Dorughin pardâkhte m ­ iyân-e qorun-e sheshom va hashtom, ed. Iraj Afshâr (2 nd. ed., Tehran, 2008), p. 350.

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Asmâ the Pari.31 In later stories, including that of Amir Arsalân, the distinction between jinns and paris no longer exists.32 It must be borne in mind that jinns were induced into Persian culture as a product of Ara­bic lore and Islamic literature, but the origins of paris are entirely Iranian. Apart from paris, sorcerers (jâdovân/jâdugarân) are also present in the stories. They are evil and deceitful witches who make trouble for the heroes of the story by creating problems for them or putting a curse on them. They also frequently lust after the heroes and desire to sleep with them. For instance, in Firuzshâh-nâme the two witches, Zarde the Witch and Moqantare the Witch, and their sorcery and talismanic powers are mentioned; and in Amir Arsalân, Marjâne the Witch and Reyhâne the Witch, make an appearance. Talk of divs and ghouls is also one of the essential ingredients of naqqâli stories. They mostly appear in the enemy’s camp and engage in fighting with the heroes of the story. Men from the tribe of Âd (a tribe in the Qur’an), negroes, and monstrous figures from ancient and classical stories about marvelous races such as dog-headed creatures, or those with large fan-shaped ears, or with malleable clinging legs, can all be counted as enemies. Mythical animals such as dragons and mythical birds like Simorgh and the Rock (Rokh), are also present in these stories. In naqqâli stories, war and battles are repeatedly mentioned and battle scenes described. Courage on the battlefield and military prowess are the main concern of such tales. This is why the tales of naqqâls and storytellers should be considered in terms of literary classification and genres as epics, and the tendency in recent years among some scholars, following the example of some European works, to bring them under the rubric of “romance” is questionable. Although Aristotle considers composing in verse as a prerequisite for an epic, in Persian literature the stories of the naqqâls in prose possess characteristics of epic works.33 I approve 31

Qesse-ye Hamze: Hamze-nâme, ed. Ja’far She’âr (2 vols., Tehran, 1968), I, p. 223. 32 Afshâri, Tâze be tâze, now be now, pp. 53–54. 33 Mahmud Omidsâlâr, Si o do maqâle dar naqd o tashih‑e motun‑e adabi (Tehran, 2010), pp. 525–26.

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of the classification by the scholar of Iranian mythology, Mehrdâd Bahâr, who divided epic literature in Persian into two branches: aristocratic epics, i. e., the Shâh-nâme and other long narrative poems which followed in its train, such as Garshâsp-nâme (The Book of Garshâp) and Bahman-nâme (The Book of Bahman), and folk or popular epics which are prose epics compiled and narrated by itinerant naqqâls and storytellers.34 In naqqâli stories, the literary device of hyperbole and exaggeration is frequently found, as in other epic works. The similes used are more or less uniform, including, for example, comparing the hero or the champion warrior’s attack on the enemy troops to a lion or wolf attacking a flock of sheep, or when he wields his sword at the enemy, the frequently occurring simile is that he has sliced him into two halves like a cucumber or a piece of cheese. The similes in these works are mostly tactile and palpable rather than imaginary and speculative. For two topics the similes are extended to great length and much detail: One is the description of the passing of the night and sunrise and morning breaking; and the other description of the battlefield, the mounts, the clothes, and the instruments of war. It is also noteworthy that there are certain words, phrases and expressions that are repeated in most of the naqqâli accounts and can be traced from early surviving texts, such as the Nafisi manuscript of the Eskandar-nâme, to much later texts such as Amir Arsalân, so that one can regard them as specific to the language of the naqqâls: for example, shab bar sar‑e dast dar âmadan, in the sense of “night falling”; be nazar dar âvardan, meaning “to see”; kâr râsti kardan and kâr sâzi kardan, meaning “to prepare”; dar bâqi kardan, meaning “to finish and leave off”; âshnâ kardan, meaning “to strike”; dehid, in the sense of “attack!” or “charge!;”35 tarid kardan and tarid be jây âvardan, in the sense of riding and 34 Bahâr, Jostâri chand dar farhang‑e Irân, pp. 161–62. 35 It should be noted that the word dehid was more widely used, see Abu’lFazl Beyhaqi, Târikh, tr. C. E. Bosworth and revised by Mohsen Ashtiany as The History of Beyhaqi (3 vols., Cambridge, Mass., 2011), I, p. 124 and 433, III (commentary), p. 48, footnote 183.

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challenging in the battle arena; qarpus‑e zin, in the sense of the bow of the saddle; ra’nâ, a word of abuse to refer to women, which changed to nâ ra’nâ in later texts; al-qesse, in the sense of “to cut a long story short”; hâzer vaqt budan or hâzer budan, in the sense of being on the ball and keeping an eye open. In certain places in their prose narratives, the naqqâls insert verses to embellish their work and make it more attractive. Some of these are of their own making and many are culled from the Shâhnâme, or other well-known verse narratives such as Nezâmi’s Khosrow o Shirin, Leyli o Majnun, and Eskandar-nâme, or Vis o Râmin by Fakhr-al-Din Gorgâni. Of course, in later works, verses from Hâfez and Sa’di are frequently borrowed, and in the works emanating from the Safavid period one can also, at times, come across verses from Sâ’eb Tabrizi and other poets writing in the Indian style. On the whole it can be said that the influence and impact of the Shâh-nâme has been stronger than that of any other work in the stories of the naqqâls. At least as early as the Safavid period and onwards, the naqqâls would retell and narrate stories from the Shâh-nâme. But this rendering of a classical verse narrative into prose and naqqâli format and style, was not limited to the Shâhnâme. One can also point to the Khâvarân-nâme, the Shi’ite verse epic composed by Ebn-Hosâm Khusfi (d. 1469) which was also rendered into naqqâli prose and had been published several times in lithograph editions as Khâvar-nâme. Aside from their literary merits, the stories of the naqqâls are important primary sources for the study of Iranian social history and that of their beliefs and thought systems.

2. Naqqâli Stories before the Safavid Era Apart from five long popular stories that, from ancient times, had been compiled by professional storytellers and naqqâls, who would recite them in their performance sessions for the public at large, or read them aloud from books for their audience, the rest of such books were composed in the Safavid period or afterwards. 390

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These five pre-Safavid books are the prose Eskandar-nâme, Dârâb-nâme of Tarsusi (most of which is in essence another version of the Alexander legend), the old manuscript of Qesse-ye Hamze or Hamze-nâme, Samak‑e ayyâr, and Firuzshâh-nâme.36 The aforementioned books were compiled between the 12 th and the 15 th centuries, and as their audience consisted of common people, they come close to the Persian used in the streets and bazaars of that time. As such, they are of great significance since most of the surviving Persian texts from these three centuries were the work of men of letters or scientists and court secretaries and therefore reflect the Persian common amidst the elite and the erudite.

Eskandar-nâme From the very first centuries ce, writers from different regions began composing books in different languages on Alexander’s world exploits and conquests, apparently mostly inspired by Callisthenes, a scholar from Olynthus, who had been commissioned by Alexander to write about his conquests. In Persian, such books go under the title of Eskandar-nâme.37 As pointed out by Bahâr,38 given the fact that the aforementioned Eskandar-nâme refers to Ferdowsi’s Shâh-nâme in several places,39 and the Ghaznavid poet Onsori (d. 1040) is also mentioned,40 and Sultan Mahmud of Ghazna (d. 933) is mentioned with the formulaic prayer “God’s compassion upon him” 36 William Hanaway, “Formal Elements in the Persian Popular Romances,” Review of National Literatures 2 (1971), p. 140. 37 An old manuscript copy of a prose Eskandar-nâme belonged to the private library of the scholar Sa’id Nafisi (d. 1967). It was his friend and colleague, Mohammad-Taqi Bahâr, who first pointed out the importance of the text given its early date and language in his work Sabk-shenâsi, (repr., 3 vols., Tehran, 1990), II, pp. 128–48. Since then it has usually been referred to amongst Iranian scholars as Eskandar-nâme-ye Nafisi. Iraj Afshâr (d. 2011) edited the text for the first time in 1965 (2nd ed., Tehran, 2008). 38 Bahâr, Sabk-shenâsi, II, p. 132. 39 Eskandar-nâme, pp. 140, 165, 198. 40 Eskandar-nâme, pp. 261, 370.

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denoting that he was no longer alive,41 this text could not have been written down before the 10th century. Linguistic evidence suggests a date from the 12th or the beginning of the 13th century. The author of this Eskandar-nâme must have intended his work to be read as a book rather than for oral recitation and naqqâli, as evidenced by a passage in the book where he mentions that, while in Egypt, Alexander had asked someone to narrate the story of Zahhâk to him, and goes on: And so that night the man narrated the story of Zahhâk the Arab for the king … and the story of Kâve the ironsmith, and Afridun and the murder of Zahhâk and the reign of Afridun, and the story of Sâm (= Salm) and Tur and what ensued with the daughter of Sarv of the Yemen, and the story of the murder of Iraj up to the reign of Manuchehr; he told them all to Alexander exactly as what Ferdowsi had narrated in verse in the Shâh-nâme and as is already known to most of the readers; but we in this book relate only the tale of Alexander and that story replete with wonders, for otherwise the story will lose its shape and proportion and would appear tiresome to the readers, who would forget the story of Alexander itself.42

The compiler of this manuscript of Eskandar-nâme had based his book on a manuscript compiled by someone else called Abd-alKâfi b. Abi’l-Barakât who had gathered the various stories and accounts about Alexander.43 He had, however, shortened the material in the original whenever he had deemed fit to do so and had not recorded some of its material.44 Nevertheless, the style of this Eskandar-nâme is similar to that of naqqâli works. For example, most chapters begin with such openings as “the teller of these accounts thus relates,”45 or “thus relates the begetter of this account,”46 and “thus relates the teller of the tale,”47 which are all specific to the style of the naqqâls. Some 41 42 43 44 45 46 47

Eskandar-nâme, p. 206. Eskandar-nâme, p. 140. Eskandar-nâme, p. 416. Eskandar-nâme, p. 310. Eskandar-nâme, p. 568. Eskandar-nâme. pp. 355, 397, 419, 429. Eskandar-nâme, p. 591.

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of the expressions and phrases, which occur in the works of the naqqâls including Samak‑e ayyâr and Dârâb-nâme, also occur repeatedly in Eskandar-nâme.48 Many of the characteristic motifs of naqqâli works are also employed in Eskandar-nâme including the kind of ayyâri trickery that Alexander adopts, such as going into the enemy camp in disguise and dressing up as a woman and putting on a veil and boots and fleeing from the scene.49 At times he dresses up himself as an ayyâr and indulges in ayyâri activities.50 Other repeated motifs from naqqâli stories include the presence of paris, divs, sorcerers and negroes,51 as well as the use of “knock-out drops” given by Shah-Malek, the King of Taghmâj, to a female cupbearer so that she could induce Alexander to drink it and lose consciousness and be captured.52 According to Eskandar-nâme, Alexander is the son of Dârâb, the king of Iran, and his mother is the daughter of Filqus Rumi (Philip of Greece [Macedon]). Alexander goes to battle against his own brother, Dârâb son of Dârâb, who had intended to impose levies on Greece. Dârâb is killed in the battle at the hands of his own ministers, and Alexander conquers Iran.53 In this book Alexander is identical with Dhu’l-Qarneyn (the Two-Horned), who is mentioned in the Qur’an.54 Since he is blessed with innate saintliness, an angel saves him by grabbing his hand before he reaches for some poisoned food.55 Alexander aims to conquer the whole world and convert everyone to monotheism (khodâ-parasti), hence his epithet in this book is “the Capturer of Lands.” Aristotle (Arastâtâlis, Arastu) is his vizier and counsellor. In his own time, they were already engaged in writing an Eskandar-nâme, and he himself was

48 Eskandar-nâme, Appendix 8, pp. 678, 681, 684, 687, 689, 690. 49 Eskandar-nâme, pp. 59–60. 50 Eskandar-nâme, pp. 89–90. 51 Eskandar-nâme, pp. 313–33; 363–417. 52 Eskandar-nâme, pp. 495–97. 53 Eskandar-nâme, pp. 495–97. 54 Qur’an, 18:83, 86, 94. 55 Eskandar-name, p. 148.

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aware of such a book.56 From Oman he goes to India and Kashmir, and from there to Hejaz, Yemen, Egypt, and Andalusia. He then goes off in search of the Water of Life to the Land of Darkness, accompanied by Khezr (“the Green Prophet” a legendary character in Islamic culture). Having come out of the Land of Darkness, he goes towards Turkestan, China, and the Land of Taghmâj. He then travels to the land of the paris and, after engaging them in battle, marries Arâqit, their queen. He then proceeds to the land of the Russians (Rus) and fights with heathens and black savages (Zangiyân). At the end of the book, a cousin of Arâqit, a pari named Yâqut-Malak, falls in love with Alexander, and their tale remains unfinished. In Eskandar-nâma, Alexander, as supposedly God’s agent on earth, kills anyone who does not convert to monotheism (i. e. Islam), without any pity. Another characteristic trait of Alexander in this book is his propensity for marrying repeatedly. Wherever he fights, he marries the daughter of the king of that region: For example, he marries Nâhid, the daughter of Porus,57 the Indian King; Mâh-âfarin, the daughter of Âzâd-bakht, the king of Kashmir;58 and the daughter of the ruler of Turkestan.59 Apart from Nafisi’s Eskandar-nâme, there are other prose Eskandar-nâmes in Persian, including the Eskandar-nâme-ye kabir (The Great Book of Alexander) in seven volumes, which has been published many times in a lithograph form60 and must have been compiled in the Safavid period. Its compilation is attributed to a naqqâl called Manuchehr Khân Hakim. This voluminous Eskandar-nâme had gained great popularity among its Persian readers thanks to the many dexterous deeds of Alexander’s own special ayyâr, who is called Mehtar Nasim. The conquest of different lands and the repeated marriages of Alexander are reminiscent of Qesse-ye Hamze (story of Hamze) 56 57 58 59 60

Eskandar-nâme, pp. 205, 223, 259. Eskandar-nâme, p. 64. Eskandar-nâme, p. 68. Eskandar-nâme, p. 136. Ulrich Marzolph, Narrative Illustration in Persian Lithographed Books (Leiden, 2001), pp. 239–40.

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or Hamze-nâme (The Book of Hamze) in which Hamze, too, is constantly engaged in battles which end in his victory and subsequent marriage. Hamze-nâme is equal to Eskandar-nâme both in fame and length. It is an extended version of the Qesse-ye Hamze which was compiled in the Safavid era under the title of Romuz‑e Hamze (Mysteries of Hamze). The similarities between these two books have led the German scholar Ulrich Marzolph to consider Qesse-ye Hamze or Romuz‑e Hamze as the Islamic counterpart to Eskandar-nâme.61 But perhaps it could be argued that Eskandar-nâme is the Persianized counterpart of Qesse-ye Hamze and that the story of Eskandar in Persian was originally based on Ara­ bic and Islamic stories, since in Nafisi’s Eskandar-nâme the events of the story are at times related on the authority of Vahb b. Monabbeh (one of the first Muslims to write historical narratives; d. ca. 732), who was of Iranian origin but born in Yemen. 62 Therefore the similarities between the narratives of Eskandar and Hamze might be due to the Arab context of their stories.

Dârâb-nâme The language of the prose of Dârâb-nâme appears more ancient than that of other naqqâli stories other than the Nafisi Eskandar-nâme, and it seems probable that it was compiled sometime in the 12 th or early 13 th century.63 The compiler or narrator of the Dârâb-nâme as we have it is not, as it is generally assumed, AbuTâher Tarsusi, rather the compiler of the book has based his narrative on Abu-Tâher Tarsusi’s account, as he declares at the beginning of the book: “From the [accounts of] the tellers of tales and purveyors of stories and histories, the thoroughly learned master

61 Ulrich Marzolph, “A Treasury of Formulaic Narrative: The Persian Popular Romance Hosein‑e Kord,” Oral Tradition 14/2 (1999), p. 281. 62 Eskandar-nâme, pp. 557, 607. 63 Omidsâlâr, Si o do maqâle, pp. 317, 323. (Omidsâlâr even goes as far as maintaining that the prose is similar to that of the 11th century ce.)

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Abu-Tâher b. Hasan b. Ali b. Musâ al-Tarsusi—May God grant him happiness in both worlds-relates thus …”64 Had Tarsusi been the direct narrator of the story without any intermediaries, he would not have referred to himself in such flattering terms as “the thoroughly learned master.” In any case, at the time when Dârâb-nâme was being put together and written up, Tarsusi must have been alive, since the compiler of the story refers to him with a formulaic prayer, “May God grant him happiness in both worlds,” which can only be used for a person who is still alive. Many stories have been attributed to this Abu-Tâher Tarsusi, who was apparently a famous compiler of stories in ancient times, including Abu-Moslem-nâme, Qahramân-nâme (The Book of Qahramân) and Qesse-ye Qerân‑e Habashi (Story of Qerân of Abyssinia). Tarsusi’s Dârâb-nâme is divided into two parts. The first part is the story of Dârâb, of the legendary Iranian Kayanid dynasty. The second part, which is more extensive than the first, is the story of Alexander. In the section devoted to Dârâb, there is a mention of Eskandar-nâme, which might be a reference to the second part of the book,65 or it could be that there was another book by Tarsusi about Alexander. The story begins with the episode of the death of Rostam, the celebrated champion warrior of Iran, and the reign of Bahman, son of Esfandiyâr, who is referred to as Ardeshir. One of the surprising features of this book is that it contains two versions regarding Homây, Bahman’s wife. First, it is mentioned that Bahman married Homây, the daughter of Sâm Châresh, the king of Egypt,66 and then, exactly a page after this, and in conformity with the version in the Shâh-nâme, Homâ, the wife of Ardeshir or Bahman, is considered as the daughter of Ardeshir, having been deflowered and 64 Abu-Tâher Tarsusi, Dârâb-nâme-ye Tarsusi, ed. Dhabih-Allâh Safâ (2 vols., Tehran, 1965–68), I, p. 3. See also the French translation of the Alexander section with commentary by Marina Gaillard, Alexandre le grand en Iran: Le ‘Dârâb Nâmeh’ d’Abu Tâher Tarsusi (Paris, 2005). 65 Tarsusi, Dârâb-nâme, p. 74. 66 Tarsusi, Dârâb-nâme, p. 10.

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bedded by her own father.67 She ascends the throne after her father, while pregnant with his child. After she gives birth and the baby reaches six months in age, fearing that the son might in future take the crown from her, she places him in a wooden trunk and orders that it should be placed in some flowing stream so that it would drift away until it is retrieved by someone. A laundryman named Hormoz retrieves the trunk, and since he has taken the baby from water (âb), he names the boy Dârâb. He grows to a handsome, strong, daring and war-like youth. He is also blessed with farr‑e izadi (divinely bestowed glory), and this divine glory appears in the luminosity shining from his countenance.68 Dârâb demands a horse from the launderer, who refuses because he wants Dârâb to go into laundering like him. During an argument Dârâb strikes the launderer and kills his slave. The launderer seeks justice from the local ruler, Amir Mardu, but Dârâb kills the Amir’s soldiers until he is finally captured. The Amir orders his execution. but at his wife’s suggestion, he has Dârâb’s fortune told. The astrologer predicts that from Dârâb a son will be born who will conquer the world. Amir Mardu’s son adopts Dârâb as his own son. The next episode narrates how one day Homâ sends Zahhâk, her tax agent, to the court of Amir Mardu to receive his tribute. Dârâb kills his troops, but Zahhâk escapes and reports to Homâ, who senses that Dârâb is her own son. One episode takes Amir Mardu and Dârâb to Baghdad, Homâ’s seat of power. On seeing her son, Homâ’s maternal instincts are awakened, and she tells Dârâb that she is his mother. At court, the nobles and the army led by Zahhâk protest to Homâ for showing favors to him and accuse her of being enamored with Dârâb and demand his execution, to which Homâ, in an attempt to extricate herself, agrees. However, Dârâb escapes death and even any injury at the time of execution because the executioner’s sword breaks in two at the time of impact. The troops then demand his banishment. At Homâ’s request, Dârâb flees and on his way kills Zahhâk. 67 Tarsusi, Dârâb-nâme, p. 11. 68 Tarsusi, Dârâb-nâme, pp. 63, 88.

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Dârâb goes to the Isle of Oman, and there, after a verbal confrontation with the sons of Qantarash, the king of Oman, slays two of them. Qantarash and his men engage Dârâb in several battles, but since Dârâb wears his grandfather Esfandiyâr’s impervious coat of mail, this renders all weapons ineffective. This coat of mail had been passed on from Esfandiyâr the Brazen-Bodied to his son Bahman, and from him to Homâ, and from her to Dârâb.69 Two of Qantarash’s black [Zangi] commanders, Samandun and Samandâk, are killed at the hands of the thirteen-year-old Dârâb, who escapes from Qantarash’s army and the black troops into a cave, where he meets an ascetic old man called Solitun and, after a journey across the sea, reaches an island ruled by Kamuz, a brother of Qantarash. Kamuz seizes Dârâb and keeps him tied up until Qantarash and his army arrive. At the point when the executioner is about to cut off Dârâb’s head, Kamuz, won over and touched by Dârâb’s beauty and youth, orders, “Do not kill him!” But Qantarash reacts by issuing the counter command: “Kill Dârâb!” The two brothers and their troops engage in battle over the issue of Dârâb’s fate. Kamuz manages to kill Qantarash, but the latter’s troops succeed in slaying Kamuz and placing Dârâb in prison. Qantarash’s wife, Tamrusiye, is enchanted by Dârâb’s beauty and falls in love with him and manages to rescue him from prison. With the hope of getting married, they sail to the Greek islands but, due to some unexpected adventures and events, manage to lose one another. A major portion of Dârâb-nâme is devoted to the wanderings of Tamrusiye in search of Dârâb. Dârâb lands in the Isle of Arus, where a king named Laknâd rules, and marries his daughter Zanklisâ. After many adventures and wanderings, Tamrusiye arrives across the sea at an island where Zanklisâ lives. When Zanklisâ discovers that Tamrusiye is in love with Dârâb, she issues an order that she should be thrown into the sea. But she is rescued at sea, and finally a merchant sells her as a slave to an eminent and pious Greek called Herenqâlis. 69 Tarsusi, Dârâb-nâme, p. 67.

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In Herenqâlis’ residence Tamrusiye meets other slave girls, one of whom turns out to be Zanklisâ, who had also been sold to Herenqâlis after some adventures. The slave girls recount their life stories to Herenqâlis. One of them happens to be Adhrâ, Vâmeq’s beloved, and she narrates briefly the famous tale of Vâmeq and Adhrâ.70 Herenqâlis recognizes Tamrusiye and declares that he is her maternal uncle and takes her to the island where Dârâb resides. Dârâb and Tamrusiye get married, and Tamrusiye becomes pregnant. But Laknâd and his daughter Zanklisâ set out to kill Tamrusiye while they are all on board of a ship, and Zanklisâ kicks Tamrusiye on her side and kills her, though she does manage to give birth to a healthy and unharmed baby on board. Laknâd and Zanklisâ are eventually killed, bitten by a snake. Dârâb learns that a troop commander called Kuhâsâ has rebelled against his mother Homâ and has captured her and is taking her to the Qeysar (Caesar) of Rum. He goes off in her aid and rescues her. Finally, Homâ declares to her troops that Dârâb is her son and that his father was Bahman (Ardeshir) and installs him as the king of Iran in her own place. One of Homâ’s slaves kills her. Dârâb defeats the Qeysar of Rum and then proceeds to wage war against Filqus, the brother of the Qeysar. He asks Filqus for his daughter’s hand and ends the hostilities. Nâhid, Filqus’ daughter, is wedded to Dârâb, but. as she suffers from bad breath, Dârâb sends her back to Filqus while she is carrying his child. Dârâb names the son that he has from Tamrusiye Dârâb as well. He becomes known as Dârâ son of Dârâ (Dârây‑e Dârâyân). Nâhid gives birth to Eskandar (Alexander) in Rum. Dârâb dies in Iran, and Dârây‑e Dârâyân succeeds him. From here begins the Alexander story. The atmosphere in the story of Alexander is somewhat different from that of Dârâb’s. Alexander is brought up in a tent near Aristotle’s (Arastu) monastery. A lion keeps watch over the tent, and a goat gives him milk every day. His mother Nâhid marries someone called Firuzshâh. Alexander manages to gain entry to the court of his grandfather, Filqus, and, in spite of the machination of Firuzshâh, succeeds Filqus as the king of Rum. Since he 70 Tarsusi, Dârâb-nâme, pp. 209–10.

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is not prepared to pay any tribute to the shah of Iran, his brother Dârây‑e Dârâyân, he takes his army to battle with him. In this battle, Dârâ’s vizier kills his king. Before Dârâ dies, Alexander goes to him, and Dârâ asks him as his last testament to marry his daughter. Dârâ’s daughter, Rowshanak, as it happens, has hair above her upper lip like a boy, which caused her being given the nickname of “Burân-dokht” (Purân-dokht). She was brave and manly in her courage and warlike attitude and ruled Iran in her father’s place and fought Alexander and his troops on several occasions and even managed to conquer Aleppo. Finally, while she was swimming naked in a fountain, Alexander caught sight of her naked body, and she therefore submitted to him and married him. Alexander spent three years enjoying carnal delights and courtly leisure and then appointed Burân-dokht as ruler in his own place, and, in order to see the marvels of the world and to meet with sages and men of erudition, he embarked on his world tour, accompanied by his other wife, Antutiye, daughter of the King of the Maghreb. In India, in order to enforce the worship of God among the Indians, he engages in battle with both the King of India, Keydâvar, and with another ruler of India, Fur. The daughter of Keydâvar is also, like Burân-dokht, a brave and manly warrior and is called Jibâve. She fights Alexander’s men on the battlefield and exhibits many daring acts. Alexander’s wife, Antutiye, who was also participating in these battles, is killed at the hands of Jibâve. Alexander seeks Burân-dokht’s help who arrives to fight with Jibâve and Fur. During several battles, Burân-dokht is captured, but she manages to free herself and kill Jibâve. Eventually the Indian army is defeated, and Alexander and Burân-dokht, accompanied by a small body of troops, begin their worldwide travels. Wherever he goes, Alexander asks the local people to worship the one God. In India, he visits the Prophet Adam’s burial place and then proceeds to the land of the fish-eaters, the isle of the Dog-Heads (sagsârân, Cynocephali), Zanzibar, Greece, the land of the Arabs, Egypt, and the Maghreb. In the land of the Arabs or Hejaz, he decorates the Ka’ba with gold and precious gems. In the course of these journeys, he has many meetings and conversations with such sages and learned men as Aristotle, Plato, Hippocrates, Ptolemy, and Loqmân (a sage 400

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mentioned in the Qur’an). On these occasions he asks the learned men, about the marvels of the world and receives their answers. In the Land of Darkness, he accompanies Khezr and Elyâs (Elijah) in search of the Fountain of Immortality, but though Khezr and Elijah find it, Alexander does not. After leaving the Land of Darkness, Alexander travels to Jerusalem where he falls ill and dies. Burândokht buries Alexander’s coffin in Jerusalem. In this book Alexander is a man of religion, and, aided by his wife Burân-dokht, he fights in the cause of religion with people of other lands.71 For Alexander, religion means the worship of God, which is interpreted as mosalmâni (the state of being a Moslem). In a letter to Keydâvar, the king of Hindustan, Alexander writes, “My coming to your country is not for the sake of your treasury or treasures. I come for the sake of Islam so that I can call you to the Right Path.”72 And to Fur, the other ruler of India, he says, “Accept the religion of Islam and I will let you go free…We are Moslems, and you are a heathen.”73 It appears that the Dârâb-nâme was to some extent influenced by Greek stories and fables.74 In old Persian stories, the word daryâ is usually used as meaning “river.” The frequent reference to water and daryâ in its meaning as “sea” as well as “ocean,” and the many sea journeys of the heroes of the story to various islands which occur frequently in Dârâb-nâme, are not innate features of purely Persian tales. If we accept the premise that the first narrator of Dârâb-nâme, Abu Tâher Tarsusi, was a citizen of Tarsus or another region in Asia Minor, his relative proximity to Greece perhaps confirms that he might have come under the influence of Greek stories.75 An interesting feature of popular stories and the works of naqqâls, including Tarsusi’s Dârâb-nâme and particularly the section on Alexander, is the importance given to dreams and the 71 Tarsusi, Dârâb-nâme, II, p. 95. 72 Tarsusi, Dârâb-nâme, p. 100. 73 Tarsusi, Dârâb-nâme, p. 169. 74 Mehrdâd Bahâr, Jostâr-i chand dar farhang‑e Irân, pp. 111 and 133. 75 See T. Hägg and B. Utas, The Virgin and Her Lover: Fragments of an Ancient Greek Novel and a Persian Epic Poem (Leiden, 2003), passim.

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frequent mention of the dreams of the characters in the stories and their interpretation in which future events are predicted.76 Another feature of the Alexander-legend portion of Dârâbnâme is the presence of women with virile and martial attributes such as Burân-dokht, Antutiye, and Jibâve, and the recital of their heroic deeds and battles, where they fight as well as the men and even at times manage to outdo them and score victories against them. In Samak‑e ayyâr, too, we encounter a warlike and valiant woman called Ruz-afzun and another brave and manly woman called Mardân-dokht (see the next section in this chapter).

Qesse-ye Hamze or Hamze-nâme Qesse-ye Hamze or Hamze-nâme is the most famous and perhaps the most popular of all naqqâli stories. If what the anonymous poet nicknamed Rabi’, the composer of the Shi’i verse epic Ali-nâme (written in 482/1089), writes is valid, Hamze-nâme was already being read in the 11th century. He makes the surprising statement that Sultan Mahmud of Ghazna, who had sympathies towards the Karramites, had asked Ferdowsi to compose his Shâhnâme to counter-act Ali-nâme and Hamze-nâme.77 There are several versions of Qesse-ye Hamze. One which is written in the diction of earlier centuries, might belong to the 12th or 13th century. It contains sixty-nine episodes and was edited by Ja’far She’âr in two volumes (Tehran, 1968). According to this early rendering, the Qesse-ye Hamze begins in Iran during the reign of Qobâd, the Sassanid king (r. 488–96 and 499–531). The leading vizier of Qobâd is an evil-natured man called Alqash, who happens to have a learned and good-natured friend called Bakht Jamâl, a descendant of the prophet Dâniyâl (Daniel). One day Bakht Jamâl finds a valuable treasure in a garden and asks Alqash to help him to search for the rightful owner of treasure and hand it over to him. 76 For example, Tarsusi, Dârâb-nâme, II, pp. 165–67 and 187–88. 77 Rabi’, Ali-nâme, facsimile ed. with a preface by M.-R. Shafi’i-Kadkani and M. Omidsâlâr (Tehran, 2009), p. 162.

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Alqash covets the treasure for himself and kills Bakht Jamâl and takes possession of the treasure. The wife of Bakht Jamâl, who was pregnant at the time, gives birth to a boy after the murder of her husband. He is named Bozorjmehr (Bozorgmehr), and, since he is endowed with much intelligence and wisdom, manages to gain access to Qobâd’s court. He informs the king about the secret affair of the treasure and the murder of his father at the hands of Alqash. Qobâd orders Alqash to be hanged, and Bozorjmehr replaces him at the court. The wife of Alqash also gives birth to a boy, whom they name Bakhtak. After Qobâd’s death, Nushirvân (r. 531–579) ascends the throne. Bozorjmehr goes to Mecca, and Bakhtak becomes Nushirvân’s vizier. In Mecca, a son is born to Abd-al-Motalleb (the grandfather of the Prophet Mohammad), and he calls him Hamze. Later, he becomes known as Amir Hamze. To Omayye Zamri is also born a son, who is named Amr.78 The two boys grow up together and remain loyal friends. Due to some events, Hamze joins the court of Nushirvân and falls in love with Mehrnegâr, the daughter of Nushirvân. When the king hears about this, he decides to kill Hamze. Hamze and his companions engage Nushirvân’s troops in battle and triumph over them. On Bakhtak’s suggestion, Nushirvân sets extracting tribute from Rum, Greece, and Egypt as the precondition for marrying Mehrnegâr, hoping that Hamze would be killed in the course of this mission. But once again Hamze returns victorious, having married the daughter of the king of Egypt in the course of this same mission. He seeks an audience with Nushirvân at Madâyen and asks for the hand of Mehrnegâr, but once again Nushirvân refrains from granting his wishes. Nushirvân keeps sending Hamze off to battle after battle, and Hamze keeps returning as always, triumphant and victorious. Throughout these wars, Amr is Hamze’s companion and assistant. The accounts of the ayyâri exploits of Amr induce a special charm and attraction to the story. In Qesse-ye 78 In many old texts Amr was written with a final vâv in order to distinguish it from Omar, including in the oldest manuscript of Hamze-nâme. Amr b. Omayye Zamri (d. 675 ce) was one of the Companions of the Prophet and was noted for his bravery.

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Hamze, he has the role of messenger and shâter (courier) for Amir Hamze, and apparently it is on the basis of this that in the fotovvat manuals of shâters he is considered as their foremost leader and under the protection of Imam Ali himself.79 A son is born to Hamze and the Egyptian princess and is named Omar. In another section of the story, Hamze falls in love with Asmâ the Pari, queen of the paris, and marries her and has a daughter from her called Qoreyshi. Then he embarks on many a battle, seeking his first love, Mehrnegâr, until finally he manages to marry her. However, in a battle with Shaddâd the Heathen, who had kidnapped Mehrnegâr, an enemy called Zubin Kâvus kills Mehrnegâr. In his sorrow, Hamze becomes insane for twenty-one days. Once again, Hamze embarks on fighting against Nushirvân so that he can gain victory over him and marry Mehr-afzun, his other daughter. Their battles drag on until Nushirvân decides himself to step down from the throne and install his son Hormuz (r. 570–59) in his place. The entire narrative of Qesse-ye Hamze or Hamze-nâme is taken up by the battle field accounts of Amir Hamze. Since he is sâheb-qerân, born under an auspicious planetary conjunction and blessed with a felicitous horoscope, he is forever victorious, and after every martial exploit, he marries anew. Finally, Amir Hamze and his troops return to Mecca, and their return coincides with the advent of Mohammad’s prophetic mission. Hamze and his army, who are already followers of the Abrahamic faith, become Moslems. They fight with the armies of Rum, Egypt, and Syria. The Rumi prince, Bur-Hend Rumi, is killed in these wars, and Hend, the mother of the slain prince, urges Hormoz to invade Mecca. In the battle between the Moslems and the Iranian army, all the companions of Hamze are slain. Hend manages through trickery to cut down Hamze’s horse, forcing him to fall to the ground, and Hend tears out Hamze’s liver with her dagger and eats it. Then, fearful of the paris who, under the banner of Qoreyshi, Hamze’s daughter, had set upon her to take their 79 Mehrân Afshâri and Mehdi Madâyeni, eds., Chahârdah resâle dar bâb‑e fotovvat va asnâf (Tehran, 2002), pp. 125–35.

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revenge for Hamze, Hend seeks the Prophet’s protection and converts to Islam, and the Prophet dissuades the paris from killing her. Qesse-ye Hamze ends with a few stories concerning the Prophet and Ali. There is no basis for the assumptions made by some scholars that Hamze-nâme was originally based on the life of Hamze, son of Âdharak, who was one of the Kharijites of the 8th century, or that accounts of his martial braveries were inserted into Qesse-ye Hamze.80 The contents of the book show that they were compiled and based on the deeds of Hamze, son of Abd-al-Mottaleb, the uncle of the Prophet. For example, the final parts of the story and the death of Hamze more or less correspond with the martyrdom of Hamze, the Prophet’s uncle, in the battle of Ohod, where he fell victim to the trickery and vengefulness of Hend, the wife of Abu-Sofyân. The kind of Arab traits and assumptions which are exhibited in Qesse-ye Hamze, such as multiple cases of marriage with different sorts of women after each victory at the battlefield, the unflattering portrayal of Sassanid kings, including Khosrow Anushirvân, and their depiction as lacking in chivalry, indicate that this story does not originate from Iran and lacks a Persian pedigree and was probably introduced into Persian language and culture through the distinct Ara­bic biographical genre of sire (i. e. biographies of the Prophet or Arabian heroes). Nevertheless, it should be said that although there is an Ara­bic version of Qesse-ye Hamze (published in three slim volumes entitled Qessat al-Amir Hamzat al-Bahlavân, Cairo, n. d.), the use of the term bahlavân in the title indicates that this story has been translated from Persian into Ara­bic. The significance and fame of the Qesse-ye Hamze in Persian speaking cultures, and in particular in the Indian Subcontinent, was such that in the Safavid era the author Abd-al-Nabi Fakhr-alZamâni of Qazvin (d. after 1631) wrote a book entitled Dastur al-fosahâ’ as a guide on how to recite and deliver Qesse-ye Hamze as a naqqâli story. Although apparently no copies of Dastur al-fosahâ’ 80 See for example Badi’-al-Zamân Foruzânfar, Sharh‑e Mathnavi-ye sharif (3 vols., Tehran, reprint 1982), III, pp. 1029–30.

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are to be found, a voluminous tome by him, entitled Tarâz al-akhbâr (a compendium of literary specimen in verse and prose) has survived in which the discussion centers on how the naqqâls should deliver Qesse-ye Hamze to their audience.81 In the book, the author divides the manner in which Qesse-ye Hamze should be transmitted and recited into four different ways and manners with the following titles: the Iranian style (tarz), the style of the people of Turân, the Indian style, and the custom of the people of Rum.82 This in itself suggests that in his era the Qesse-ye Hamze was being narrated and recited across the Islamic world. There exists a short version of Qesse-ye Hamze, consisting of both prose and verse, entitled Sâheb-qerân-nâme. The “Sâhebqerân” of the title refers to Amir Hamze himself. This version was translated into Punjabi and is very popular in the Indian Subcontinent.83 There is also a version of the Qesse-ye Hamze entitled Asmâr al-Hamze, a defective manuscript of which is found in the British Library.84 It is interesting to note that the Urdu translation of Qesse-ye Hamze is entitled Nushirvân-nâme. There is a manuscript of it in the Majles Library in Tehran (MS no. 7871).85 A celebrated and extremely detailed version of Qesse-ye Hamze belongs to the Safavid era. It is entitled Romuz‑e Hamze and is apparently the work of a naqqâl called Mollâ Ali Shekar-riz (or perhaps Jâmi Shekar-riz). It consists of seven volumes, with each volume containing several parts; and there are several lithographed 81 Abd-al-Nabi Fakhr-al-Zamâni Qazvini, Tadhkere-ye meykhâne, ed. Ahmad Golchin-Ma’âni (Tehran, 1961), p. 769; idem, Tarâz al-akhbâr, ed. Sayyed Kamâl Hâj Sayyed Javâdi (Tehran, 2013). 82 Mahjub, Adabiyyât‑e âmmiyâne-ye Irân, II, pp.  1089–93; Mohammad-Rezâ Shafi’i Kadkani, “Osul‑e honar‑e qesse-gu’i dar adab‑e Fârsi,” in Arj-nâme-ye Shahryâri, ed. Parviz Rajabi (Tehran, 2002), pp. 357–59. 83 Shâhed Chaudhuri, “Ta’thir va nofuz‑e Shâh-nâme dar adabiyyât‑e Panjâbi,” Farhang 7 (1990), p. 424. See also: The Adventurers of Amir Hamza: Lord of the Auspicious Planetary Conjunction, original Urdu compilation by Ghâlib Lakhnavi and Abd-Allâh Bilgrami, tr. Musharraf Ali Farooqi (New York, 2007). 84 Mahjub, Adabiyyât âmmiyâne-ye Irân, I, p. 541. 85 Ali Sadrâ’i Kho’i, Fehrest‑e noskhe-hâ-ye Ketâb-khâne-ye Majles‑e shurâ-ye Eslâmi, vol. XXVI (Tehran, 1997), pp. 349–50.

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editions.86 In this version, the name of Bozorgmehr the Sage, Anushirvân’s vizier, is rendered as “Abudharjomehr,” and Amr b. Omayye appears as Bâbâ Amr; most of the attractiveness of the narrative has to do with the accounts of the ayyâri adventures of this Bâbâ Amr. There is a manuscript of an abridged version of Romuz‑e Hamze in the Majles Library in Tehran, with the title Zobdat al-romuz (cat. no. 13855), compiled by a naqqâl named Shâhnazar Qessekhwân, whose prefatory discussion in this book, which is probably post-Safavid, is highly significant in its account of the naqqâls who had transmitted Qesse-ye Hamze, as well as the different versions of the narrative. He mentions the following naqqâls who had recounted Qesse-ye Hamze: Mowlânâ Jâmi Shekar-riz (who may well be the above-mentioned compiler of Romuz‑e Hamze, lithographed in seven volumes), Mowlânâ Ali Khan Qazvini, Mowlânâ Zeyn-al-Âbedin Takallof-khwân (in some places he calls him Takallofi-khwân), Mowlânâ Hâmed, Mowlânâ Jalâl-al-Din Balkhi, Mowlânâ Shuride, Mowlânâ Hoseyn Moshtâq, Nasr Bâzergân, and Abu’l-Ma’âli Nishâburi.87 He describes the role of the naqqâls and which nâqqâl had appended which story to Qesse-ye Hamze, thus making another version. For example, Mowlânâ Zeyn-alÂbedin Takallof-khwân had compiled the narrative of Iraj-nâme (The Book of Iraj) during the reign of the Safavid Shah Esmâ’il (r. 1501–24). Mowlânâ Jalâl-al-Din Balkhi had narrated Badi’ va Qâsem, and Mowlânâ Hoseyn Moshtâq, with the assistance of Mollâ Hâlâ (perhaps identical with the above-mentioned Mowlânâ Hâmed), had compiled Sandali-nâme.88 Qesse-ye Hamze proved popular across the Islamic world throughout centuries, and stories from it can be found in diverse popular literatures, including those of Malaysia, Indonesia, Croatia, Serbia, and Georgia.89 86 Marzolph, Narrative Illustration, pp. 258–59. 87 Shâhnazar Qesse-khwân, Zobdat al-romuz, Majles Library MS no. 13855, fol. 2 b. 88 Qesse-khwân, Zobdat al-romuz, fol. 3 a. 89 Fereydun Vahman, “Mâjerâ-ye Hamze-nâme,” in Habib Yaghmâ’i and Iraj Afshâr, eds., Nâme-ye Minovi (Tehran, 1972), pp. 471–72.

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Samak‑e ayyâr Samak‑e ayyâr is perhaps the longest Persian popular story in the manner of the naqqâls that has survived from the centuries before the Safavid era. In terms of length, it is considerably longer than Nafisi’s Eskandar-nâme, Tarsusi’s Dârâb-nâme, and Qesse-ye Hamze. But contrary to what some scholars have maintained, Samak‑e ayyâr is not the most ancient of these stories.90 The style of its prose appears to be of a later date than the prose style of Eskandar-nâme and Dârâb-nâme, and it may belong to the 14th century. The naqqâl or compiler of Samak‑e ayyâr is named as Farâmarz, the son of Khodâdâd, from the Arrajân region of the province of Fârs. It seems that his narrative is based on a written version of Samak‑e ayyâr by someone called Sadaqe, son of Abu’l-Qâsem, from the city of Shiraz.91 In the beginning of the third volume of the unique manuscript of Samak‑e ayyâr in the Bodleian Library in Oxford (Ouseley 381), in an attached folio that bears a more recent handwriting than the rest of the manuscript, there are some sentences of great significance: And thus relates Farâmarz b. Khodâdâd b. Abd-Allâh al-Kâteb al-Arrajâni [from] the teller of the story, Sadaqe b. Abi’l-Qâsem Shirâzi: “at one time, a group of my close companions and friends asked me for a story, and I began that story under the auspices of the Almighty God’s favor on an auspicious day and blessed hour which was Tuesday the twenty-first of June 1189, … and carried it out to the best of my ability”…92

Although the handwriting in this attached section appears to be of a more recent date, it seems that whoever wrote it and attached it to the manuscript, must have copied it verbatim from an old manuscript.93 The preface that is inserted at the beginning of the third volume of the manuscript of Samak‑e ayyâr includes the above quoted lines. 90 See, for example, Mohammad-Ja’far Mahjub, Adabiyyât‑e âmmiyâne-ye Irân, I, p. 612; II, p. 954. 91 Arrajâni, Samak‑e ayyâr, I, pp. 1, 75. 92 Arrajâni, Samak‑e ayyâr, IV, p. 3. 93 Omidsâlâr, Si o do maqâle, p. 360.

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Here, it seems that Farâmarz b. Khodâdâd was reciting the exact contents of the written manuscript of Samak‑e ayyâr that he had in front of him and that had been composed by the previous narrator of the story, Sadaqe b. Abi’l-Qâsem Shirâzi; and that, therefore, the words in that preface belong to the same author, who had inscribed them in 1189—a point supported by the fact that the prose of the preface appears more archaic than that of the rest of the story. It was this very preface that led Mohammad-Ja’far Mahjub to consider Samak‑e ayyâr (i. e., the Bodleian manuscript) as a 12th century text.94 But it could be argued, on the contrary, that the copy that Farâmarz b. Khodâdâd had in his possession belonged to the 12th century, and he, the compiler of the story as we have it, could not have lived before the 14th century. Although the first narrator of the book, Sadaqe b. Abi’l-Qâsem came from Shiraz and Farâmarz b. Khodâdâd was from Arrajân and therefore both came from the province of Fârs, philologists believe that the Persian diction of the book is reminiscent of that of the region of Khorasan.95 Nevertheless, it is interesting to note that language similarities can also be detected between the prose of Samak‑e ayyâr and the poetry of Hâfez (d. 1390), bearing in mind that both works come from the same period and region.96 There is some evidence in the text of Samak‑e ayyâr indicating that what the compiler and naqqâl, Farâmarz b. Khodâdâd, was delivering orally for the general public, was at the same time noted down verbatim by a scribe capable of speedwriting and this is what we have now.97 The adventures in Samak‑e ayyâr are narrated in a straight chronological order, from the birth of Khorshid Shah, the prince of Aleppo, followed by his sundry adventures, until the story gets to his son, Farrokh-ruz, and his adventures; then the narrative stops abruptly, and the book is left unfinished. 94 Mahjub, Adabiyyât‑e âmmiyâne-ye Irân, I, p. 611. 95 Arrajâni, Samak‑e ayyâr, I, pref. by Parviz Nâtel-Khânlari, p. 11. 96 Mohammad Amin Riyâhi, Golgasht dar she’r o andishe-ye Hâfez (Tehran, 1987), pp. 157–66. 97 Farâmarz b. Khodâdâd Arrajâni, Samak‑e ayyâr, V, p. 609. For other examples, see Parviz Nâtel-Khânlari, Shahr‑e Samak (Tehran, 2006), pp. 66–68.

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Synopsis. Khorshid Shah’s father, called Marzbân Shah, is saddened by the fact that he is childless. In order to have progeny, he is advised to marry Golnâr, the daughter of the shah of Iraq, who had previously been married and had some children of her own. Marzbân Shah fathers a son with Golnâr, and since he is born at sunrise, he is named Khorshid Shah (Sun King). He proves to be exceptionally handsome, intelligent, and well-mannered. One day when he is out hunting, the nurse to the daughter of the king of China (the Faghfur), who also happens to be a sorceress, transforms herself into a wild ass and makes Khorshid Shah pursue her to the tent of a beautiful girl. Khorshid Shah falls in love with her. The girl puts a ring on Khorshid Shah’s finger and Khorshid Shah, having drunk a sleeping draught, falls unconscious. When he regains consciousness, he sees himself alone on the plain without a trace of the girl or the tent. However, he sees that her ring is on his finger. He returns to Aleppo, still madly in love with her, and asks his retinue to decipher the inscription on the ring so that he can find the owner; but no one is able to do this. The sorceress nurse goes to the court of Khorshid Shah disguised as an old man and reads the ring’s inscription for him and tells him that the girl he has fallen in love with is called Mah-pari and is the daughter of Faghfur, the king of China. She also describes what prerequisite conditions need to be met if he wishes to marry Mah-pari. In the bazaar of China, Khorshid Shah befriends Shoghâl Pilzur (lit. “the jackal with the strength of an elephant”), who is the chief of the javânmardân (chivalrous urban gang), and his apprentice and godson, Samak, who is the leader of the ayyârs. Accompanied by the above-mentioned two, as well as a group of ayyârs and his own stepbrother Farrokh-ruz, who is also a son of Golnâr, he goes to Faghfur’s court in order to marry Mah-pari. There he finds twenty-one other princes from various lands in China, all in love with Mah-pari and all held captive by the nurse. Khorshid Shah manages to gain entry into the house of the sorceress nurse. Samak the Ayyâr kills the nurse and sets the twenty-one princes free on the condition that they desist in asking for Mah-pari’s hand. Mah-pari too, on seeing Khorshid Shah, falls in love with him, but Mehrân, the evil-natured vizier of Faghfur, proves an obstacle. 410

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His own son, Qâbez, is also in love with Mah-pari, and Mehrân strives to make him Faghfur’s son-in-law. Upon Mehrân’s suggestions, all Mah-pari’s suitors enter a tournament but Khorshid Shah is victorious against them all. Qâbez resorts to deceit and trickery, but is finally killed by Samak. Mehrân the vizier sends a letter to Arman Shah, the King of Manchuria (Mâchin), and urges his son, Qezel Malek, to seek the hand of Mah-pari. Qezel Malek and his army invade China and the Chinese army, commanded by Khorshid Shah, confronts them. After many an engagement, Qezel Malek is defeated, but on each occasion when Khorshid Shah and Mah-pari are about to wed, an incident intervenes and prevents the marriage from taking place. Many a time Mah-pari is lost or kidnapped, and many a time Khorshid Shah and his troops fight Qezel Malek and Arman Shah and their army; while the ayyârs on both sides have their special combats and engagements against each other. In one of the battles, Farrokh-ruz is captured and killed. The main instigator of all this mayhem and strife is the deceitful Mehrân. Opposed and in contrast to him are Hâmân and Shahrân, the two wise and benevolent viziers of Marzbân Shah, who assist and guide Khorshid Shah with their wise counsels. Finally, Khorshid Shah and Mah-pari succeed in marrying, but Mah-pari and her infant die at childbirth. Khorshid Shah mourns their death, and the battles against the army of Arman Shah continue unabated. Throughout these wars, the ayyârs, led by Samak, play a very active part. Mâhâne, Arman Shah’s daughter, falls in love with Khorshid Shah and asks Samak to help her attain her wishes. A band of people dwell in valleys and the mountains and are led by a javânmard called Ghur‑e Kuhi. He has a daughter, Âbân-dokht, with whom Khorshid Shah has fallen in love. After several adventures, Khorshid Shah and Âbân-dokht are wed. Mâhâne arrives at the court when the two are about to get married, and when it is discovered that she had intended to poison Âbân-dokht due to her jealousy, she commits suicide with a knife. To Khorshid Shah a son is born whom he names Farrokh-ruz in memory of his own half-brother, who had sacrificed his own life for him. Farrokh-ruz marries four wives, for each of whom he has 411

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to undergo many an adventure. They are called Shervân, Golbuy, Chegel-mâh, and Giti-nemâ. In the course of the story Khorshid Shah and Farrokh-ruz fight with numerous enemies. The ayyârs too, and in particular Samak and a female ayyâr called Ruz-afzun exhibit a great deal of courage and artful showmanship, particularly when Farrokh-ruz falls prey to the paris and is held spellbound, and they have to seek him out. In some episodes, Farrokh-ruz several times engages in battle with Gurâb’s daughter, Mardân-dokht, endowed with bold and virile virtues, until they finally marry one another. From then onwards, she assists Farrokh-ruz in his battles against his foes. Mardândokht in Samak‑e ayyâr resembles Purân-dokht in the Alexander section of Tarsusi’s Dârâb-nâme. In the course of one of their wars, Khorshid Shah is separated from his army and his enemy, Qâbus, captures him, and he is beheaded. Farrokh-ruz continues fighting in the wars and the story is left unfinished. It could be argued that among all the old naqqâli texts, Samak‑e ayyâr has the most specifically Iranian characteristics and is less affected than others by influences from other cultures and literatures. There are signs and features emanating from pre-Islamic Iran which still exist intact and unalloyed within the story, for example, the heroes of the book vow and swear on “Light, Fire, and the Sun,” “the Sun and the Seven Planets,” and “Zand and Pâzand” (the holy books of the Zorostrians).98 In another passage in the story, which shows affinities with the customs of ancient Iran, Ghur‑e Kuhi, in the presence of Khorshid Shah declares, “It is not our custom to marry sisters with brothers,”99 thereby implying that in the dominant culture of the book, such incestuous marriages were not out-of-the-ordinary, while of course in an Islamic society they would be shunned. Most of the proper names in Samak‑e ayyâr are of Iranian origin, such as Âtashak, Âbân-dokht, Khorshid Shah, Ruz-afzun Sorkh-vard, Shervân, Shahrân, Farrokh-ruz, Kushyâr, Kuhyâr, Marzbân Shah, Mehruye, and Hormoz Gil. 98 Nâtel-Khânlari, Shahr‑e Samak, p. 93; Bahâr, Jostâri chand dar farhang‑e Irân, p. 163. 99 Farâmarz b. Khodâdâd Arrajâni, Samak‑e ayyâr, II, p. 140.

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The main attraction and charm of the story of Samak‑e ayyâr is found in those aspects dealing with the conduct and the manners and mores of the ayyârs. In fact, it could be said that this book is one of the most important primary sources for our knowledge of the rules and customs of ayyâri and the moral precepts of the javânmardân.100 Its observations in different passages concerning the customs of the ayyârs and javânmards conform and correspond with the instructions in the fotovvat manuals (fotovvat-nâme-hâ) regarding the training for the javânmardân. For example, concerning javânmardi, Shoghâl Pil-zur says, “Javânmârdi is in essence limitless, but within its limitlessness, it has seventy-two aspects.”101 And in Ezzi of Marv’s Fotovvat-nâme, dating from the 14th century, we read: Thus spoke those initial elders, When they talked of manliness in public: There are seventy-two pre-requisite conditions in fotovvat, With one of the conditions being manliness and generosity (morovvat).”102

Qesse-ye Firuzshâh or Firuzshâh-nâme As far as length is concerned, Qesse-ye Firuzshâh or Firuzshâhnâme is the second most extensive naqqâli story dating before the Safavid era. Apparently, this story was transcribed in four tomes. Its Ara­bic version, entitled Qessat Firuzshâh b. al-Malek Zârâb was published in four volumes (Beirut, n. d.). Each tome consisted of several sections or fascicles, and today some of those are extant. Ever since the manuscript of part of the book was found in Istanbul (MS Topkapı Saray, Revan Köşkü 1517), which was transcribed by Mahmud Daftar-khwân in Tabriz in 1482, the book has been entitled Dârâb-nâme. Dhabih-Allâh Safâ, the first editor of 100 Marina Gaillard, Le livre de Samak‑e ʿAyyâr: structure et idéologie du roman persan médiéval (Paris, 1987), pp. 27–42. 101 Arrajâni, Samak‑e ayyâr, I, p. 44. 102 In Mehrân Afshâri, ed., Fotovvat-nâme-hâ va rasâ’el khâksâriyye (si resâle) (Tehran, 2003), p. 36.

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the first sections of Qesse-ye Firuzshâh-nâme published his two volume edition of it under the title of Dârâb-nâme (Tehran, 1960– 62); though he himself in his endnotes points out that the title does not fit the tale itself which is concerned with the life and valiant deeds on the battlefield of Firuzshâh, the son of Dârâb.103 There is also a manuscript of the third volume of Firuzshâh-nâme in Uppsala University Library (MS no. 555) which has been edited under the title of Firuzshâh-nâme: donbâle-ye Dârâb-nâme bar asâs‑e ravâyat‑e Mohammad‑e Bighami, by Iraj Afshâr and Mehrân Afshâri (Tehran, 2009). There is evidence to suggest that the text was intended for naqqâli and oral recitation.104 But unlike Samak‑e ayyâr, this book does not seem to have been directly copied down during its oral recitation. Reading is mentioned at times in the book: “We read [it] in the presence of the chivalrous company (javânmardân).” It appears therefore that Qesse-ye Firuzshâh was recited from its text for its audience. Since the compiler of this story wrote it down with the aim that the storyteller should read it to the people, he employed phrases such as “we respectfully said,” “we read,” “it will be mentioned” and “you heard” in many places in the book and apparently refers to that same Mahmud Daftar-khwân, the writer of the above MS at Topkapi in Istanbul, and the title daftar-khwân may point to his function as a storyteller (qesse-khwân). In order to write his own text, he had used Mowlânâ Mohammad Bighami’s text, which he had in his possession. This is why whenever he wants to say that his book is based on Mohammad Bighami’s written story, he mentions his name exactly as it appears in Bighami’s text, and, for example, has not noticed that, due to conventional rules of etiquette, Bighami refers to himself in the text as “the abject slave” and inserts a personal prayer for himself “May God secure his welfare!,” and repeats these phrases out of place in his own rendition: 103 Mohammad Bighami, Dârâb-nâme, ed. Dhabih-Allâh Safâ (2nd repr., 2 vols., Tehran, 2002), II, p. 768. 104 Bighami, Dârâb-nâme, II, Safâ’s notes, p. 769; Firuzshâh-nâme, pref. by Afshâri, p. 10.

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Stories and Tales: Entertainment as Literature And so we come to the main story and the account of the real subject of misfortune, the king of Azerbaijan, the Sultan of the realm of Marand, Prince Mozaffar Shâh … from the narration of this poor and abject slave, the invoker of prayers for javânmardân and the well-wisher of all Muslims, the great Mowlânâ Sheikh Hâji Mohammad b. Sheikh Mowlânâ Ali b. Sheikh Mowlânâ Mohammad, known as Bighami, May God secure his welfare! May God grant him forgiveness and whoever reaches this place, be it the writer, the reader or the listener should, for the soul of the compiler of this book, recite the beginning verse of the Holy Qur’an once, and the subsequent verses thrice.105

Similarly, in the third volume he introduces Bighami by replicating Bighami himself as “the puniest of the slaves”.106 Contrary to what has been assumed, the compiler or the writer of what has been published as Qesse-ye Firuzshâh or Firuzshâhnâme is definitely not Mohammad Bighami himself, and the words of the narrator of the story, Bighami, have not been transmitted from an oral delivery to a written script. Given the fact that the Revan Köşkü manuscript was written down in 1482, we must assume that Mowlânâ Mohammad Bighami, for whom we have no personal detail, must have lived before this date, and was possibly a naqqâl of the 14 th or 15 th centuries. Both from the point of view of language and diction, and that of themes and subjects, Firuzshâhnâme bears some affinities with Samak‑e ayyâr, and it could be said that these two books fall in a similar category, although their original narrators may have come from different regions. Synopsis. The main hero of Qesse-ye Firuzshâh or Firuzshâh-nâme is Firuzshâh, a son of Dârâb, the Kayanid king of Iran. It should be pointed out that “shâh” is not his title but part of his name, i. e. his name is Firuzshâh and not Firuz tout court. Contrary to what the first editor of the text, Dhabih-Allâh Safâ had thought, in this story Firuzshâh is not Dârâb II, or Dârâ-ye Dârâyân.107 As explained in the third volume of the story, he is the brother of Dârâb II.108 105 Bighami, Dârâb-nâme II, p. 372. 106 Firuzshâh-nâme, p. 514. 107 Bighami, Dârâb-nâme I, Safâ’s preface. p. 7. 108 Firuzshâh-nâme, pp. 686 and 689.

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Firuzshâh is the son of Dârâb I from his marriage to the daughter of the king of Barbarestân. At the same time when Firuzshâh is born, a son is also born to Dârâb’s court champion, Pil-zur (lit. of elephant strength), and he is named Farrokhzâd. Pil-zur is himself descended from the famous Iranian champion Rostam, son of Zâl. Pil-zur and his sons, including Behzâd and Pil-tan, are champions at the court of the Iranian king, in the same way as Zâl and Rostam served as attendant champions at the court of Dârâb’s ancestors and rendered them service. During the infancy of Firuzshâh and Farrokhzâd, a child is brought to Dârâb’s court, born of a human mother but fathered by a ghoul (jinn). Dârâb brings up the child and calls him Behruz. The child becomes Firuzshâh’s personal ayyâr, known as Behruz the Ayyâr. He runs alongside Firuzshâh’s stirrup, just like the shâters of the Safavid period. In fact, the ayyârs in Firuzshâh-nâme are called ravande (runners, “ambulators”), for they are couriers and walk fast. Firuzshâh, Farrokhzâd, and Behruz are brought up together. Dârâb has two sagacious and learned viziers, called Rowshan-rây and Titus. Titus, who is Greek in origin, is Firuzshâh’s constant companion and counsellor. During a night in spring, Firuzshâh dreams of finding himself with a girl in a garden and falls head over heels in love with her. Firuzshâh realizes that the girl with whom he has fallen in love is that same Eyn-al-Hayât, the daughter of Sorur, the king of Yemen. Firuzshâh, accompanied by Farrokhzâd, travel to Yemen in search of Eyn-al-Hayât. On the way. they are set upon by brigands. and in the midst of the fighting Firuzshâh and Farrokhzâd manage to lose each other. Firuzshâh, with the aid of a merchant called Khwâje Elyâs or Elyân manages to reach Yemen. There are already three kings (from Kashmir, Egypt, and Rum) in Yemen, asking the ruler of Yemen, Shah Sorur, for the hand of his daughter for their own sons who have all fallen in love with her, but Shah Sorur rejects them all. Bahrâm Shah of Kashmir, with assistance from the Zengis (Africans), attacks Yemen, but Firuzshâh and the Yemeni troops defeat him and kill Hurang the Zengi. Meanwhile Farrokhzâd, too, reaches Yemen and comes to the aid of Firuzshâh. Eyn al-Hayât, having now seen Firuzshâh, falls in love with him. 416

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The Iranian army is then, on the orders of Dârâb, sent to fight Shah Sorur in Yemen, and Firuzshâh joins the Iranian troops. Shah Sorur seeks refuge with Valid b. Khâled, the Egyptian king. In their quest for Eyn-al-Hayât, and her father Shah Sorur and his wicked vizier Teyfur, the Iranian troops conquer Egypt, Aleppo, Alexandria, and Syria (Shâm). In the course of these wars, many adventures occur, and throughout the ayyârs, including Behruz, exhibit many acts of bravery and self-sacrifice. For instance, in Egypt Behruz and his companions liberate Firuzshâh from the fetters of a witch called Moqantare, who had come to the Egyptian king’s aid. A chivalrous (javânmard) butcher in Egypt called Abu’l-Kheyr (or Abu’l-Fath) and another valiant butcher in Damascus called Javândust assist the Iranian troops in many ways. Firuzshâh and his men, having conquered Damascus, also conquer Malatya and Antakya and defeat the Qeysar of Rum, who had given sanctuary to Shah Sorur. In the course of these wars, there are also amorous adventures and episodes concerning some of the warriors and princes in the Iranian army. For example, Mozaffar Shah, the ruler of Azerbaijan, falls in love with the Egyptian princess Turân-dokht, and Jamshid Shah becomes enamored of Golandâm, the princess from Alexandria, and they are eventually united in wedlock. Among the Iranian princes who, like Mozaffar Shah and Jamshid Shah, take part in the army of Dârâb and Firuzshâh and fight alongside them against the enemy, is Kermân Shah, the ruler of Estakhr and Fârs. The presence of these local rulers implies that in the world of Firuzshâh-nâme there exists an array of petty kingdoms with one king superior to them all, the king of kings, i. e., Dârâb himself, who reigns over all the local rulers. After the conquest of Rum, Shah Sorur surrenders to Dârâb and Firuzshâh and gives his daughter, Eyn-al-Hayât, in marriage to Firuzshâh. Firuzshâh also marries Jahân-afruz, daughter of the Qeysar. In one episode in the story, Firuzshâh gets into trouble in the land of the paris, and Mah-leqâ, the daughter of the king of the paris, falls in love with Firuzshâh, and they too get married. The Revan Köşkü manuscript of Qesse-ye Firuzshâh is defective and incomplete. The Uppsala University Library manuscript only covers the third volume and begins at the stage in which the army 417

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of Firuzshâh under his leadership has gone to China to fight Shakmun Khan, the ruler of China, and his troops. Dârâb and Eynal-Hayât are in Iran and have been separated from Firuzshâh for many years. It is clear that there had been other adventures prior to this but there is no extant manuscript covering the hiatus. The story of Firuzshâh in the third volume is more or less similar to that of Alexander in Eskandar-nâme. Firuzshâh’s intentions are similar to that of Alexander: to conquer the world and to persuade the people and the kings of other realms to convert to Islam. He fights against the Chinese king, the king of Ghush-qaran, the ruler of Constantinople, the Arab king, the Indian king, and their troops in many an engagement until he finally emerges victorious. A major portion of the third volume of Firuzshâh-nâme is devoted to the love story of Malek Bahmân, the son of Firuzshâh and Eyn-al-Hayât, with Khorshid-chehr, the daughter of Shakmun Khân, and how the two suffer hardships and separations before they can be united together, with the armies of Iran having to fight those of India and China on many an occasion. In the course of these adventures, the Iranian champion Ardavân, the son of Farrokhzâd, acts as companion and aid to Malek Bahmân. The third volume ends just before Malek Bahmân and Khorshid-chehr are finally conjoined. The Ara­bic version of Firuzshâh-nâme is an abridged rendering of the Persian in four volumes.109 Here, the Persian proper names are arabicized so that it would appear to be an old translation. The story of Firuzshâh was also rendered into Turkish by a translator called Sâleh b. Jalâl for the Ottoman Sultan Selim.110 The world of Qesse-ye Firuzshâh is the world of pre-Islamic Iran, although it should be pointed out that there is no mention of a Firuzshâh as a son of Dârâb in any Zoroastrian texts or in the mythical parts of traditional ancient Iranian history. In the story, the Iranians are yazdân-parast (God worshippers), and at times yazdân-parasti is interpreted as mosalmâni. The enemies of the 109 Qessat Firuzshâh b. Malek Dhârâb (Beirut, n. d.). See also M. C. Lyons, The Arabian Epic: Heroic and Oral Storytelling (3 vols., Cambridge, 1995). 110 Bighami, Dârâb-nâme II, Safâ’s notes, p. 768.

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Iranians are described as heathens (kâfers), idol-worshippers, and fire-worshippers.111 The influence of Islamic culture is also to some extent visible in this tale of ancient Iran.112 Firuzshâh and his son Malek Bahman stand “under an auspicious planetary conjunction” (sâheb-qerân) and are therefore forever victorious.113 The king and princes in Firuzshâh-nâme are endowed with a certain aura of holiness, and because of this, their court warriors and champions seek to draw inner strength from them and go to the battlefield under their auspicious shadow.114 One of the frequently repeated topics in the book is the description of the ayyârs artful wizardries such as digging channels (naqb/naqm zadan), altering their appearances, and slipping sleeping potions into their enemies and rivals’ drink or food to render them unconscious. The Iranians are noted in the book for their chivalry and manliness (morovvat and fotovvat),115 and the compiler of the book is a devout advocate of the rules of chivalry (javânmardi) and encourages his audience to adopt honesty, decency, and courage, in short, towards fotovvat.116

3. Stories from the Safavid Era and beyond During the reign of the Safavids in Iran, naqqâli and the compiling of stories became increasingly popular and widespread, and most of the surviving stories composed in the style of naqqâli date from this era. They were the main source of public entertainment at the time, perhaps fulfilling the same function as the cinema, television, and theatre today. There was an increase in the number of loanwords and words originating from Ara­bic and Turkish in the same 111 112 113 114 115 116

Firuzshâh-nâme, pp. 147, 444, 447. Firuzshâh-nâme, Afshâri’s preface, p. 20. Firuzshâh-nâme, pp. 128, 486–87, 524. Firuzshâh-nâme, pp. 111, 152, 182. Firuzshâh-nâme, pp. 202, 444, 530. An abridged translation of the first sections o f Firuzshâh-nâme has been translated into English by William L. Hanaway, Jr., under the title, Love and War: Adventures from the Firuz Shāh Nāma of Sheikh Bighami (New York, 1974).

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period, while at the same time the language used was very similar to the everyday speech of the general public and the streets and the bazaars. As far as their plots were concerned, the stories dating from the Safavid era contain a greater density of adventures, with various incidents following in quick succession and much more talk of imaginary beings and superstitious beliefs, and particularly of talismans and witchcraft. Characteristic of these later tales are incredible and fantastic fabrications and risible exaggerations.117 There are a great number of these stories.118 Here we are only concerned with the most significant and well-known of them. After the introduction of printing to Iran and India, some of the stories were published and reissued many times in lithographed editions and had a vast readership in the 19th and 20th centuries. In fact, it could be said that the introduction of printing increased their popularity. The most voluminous of them that came out in lithograph editions were Eskandar-nâme-ye kabir and Romuz‑e Hamze, both in seven volumes and in the large rahli-size format.

Abu-Moslem-nâme and Other Stories Attributed to Abu-Tâher Tarsusi During the Safavid period (1501–1722), the only storyteller from the previous centuries who enjoyed great fame among the naqqâls was Abu-Tâher Tarsusi of the 12 th century (or perhaps earlier). The only old story that we have based on Tarsusi’s narrative is Dârâbnâme. The naqqâls of the Safavid era, and those who came after them, have recounted a number of stories, which they claim were based on Tarsusi’s narrative. We cannot tell whether they in fact were in possession of an old recension of the stories, which were based on Tarsusi’s account, or whether, given Tarsusi’s fame and prestige among storytellers, they fabricated this genealogy in order to attribute their work to him. Among the many stories attributed 117 Mahjub, Adabiyyât‑e âmmiyâne-ye Irân, I, pp. 149 and 156. 118 Mahjub, Adabiyyât‑e âmmiyâne-ye Irân, I, pp. 144–145, where Mahjub lists 163 stories, most of which exist only in manuscript form.

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to Tarsusi, although they undoubtedly emanate from the Safavid era, i. e. from the 16th century and beyond, the following three are the most popular and famous: Abu-Moslem-nâme, Qesse-ye Qerân‑e Habashi, and Qahramân-nâme. Abu-Moslem-nâme. There is little doubt that after the treacherous murder of Abu-Moslem Khorâsâni (d. 754), carried out at the instigation of the second Abbasid caliph, Abu-Ja’far al-Mansur Davâniqi (r. 753–74), many books were written describing this Iranian army commander’s life and fate. For instance, Ebn-al-Nadim (d. 988) cites a book, Akhbâr-e Abi-Moslem sâheb al-da’wa, by Abu Abd-Allâh Marzbâni which is no longer extant.119 The AbuMoslem-nâme that we have today is an epic story composed in the style of the naqqâls and which clearly was not written down earlier than the Safavid era. Synopsis. According to this book, Abu-Moslem’s name is Abd-alRahmân, his father is called Asad, and his mother Halime. His grandfather was Joneyd and his grandmother Rashide, who happens to be the offspring of a human being and a pari. The story of the marriage of Joneyd and Rashide is told in great detail in a separate story called Qesse-ye Sayyid Joneyd.120 According to Abu-Moslem-nâme, Joneyd and Mohalhel are two warring brothers belonging to the Arab tribe of Hayy Tâyy. Asad, the son of Joneyd and Halime, the daughter of Mohalhel, fall in love with each other, but as Mohalhel is opposed to the marriage, they escape from his clutches. They go first to Baghdad and then to Isfahan, where Abu Moslem is born. For two years Asad works as a warder for Hajjâj b. Yusof, the ruler of Isfahan, until an incident occurs when he strikes and kills a man who had made defamatory remarks about Ali (the Prophet’s nephew and son-in-law). For this, Hajjâj has Asad executed and Halime blinded. Halime and her son live for a while in abject poverty until a friend of Asad’s, 119 Abu’l-Faraj Mohammad b. Eshâq Ebn-al-Nadim, Ketâb al-Fehrest, ed. Ayman Fo’âd Sayyed (4 vols., London, 2009), I, p. 413. 120 Abu Tâher Tarsusi, Abu-Moslem-nâme, ed. Hoseyn Esmâ’ili (4 vols., Tehran, 2001), I, pp. 215–519.

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Khwâje Kathir, takes them to Khorasan and Marv. They live in the environs of Marv, and Khwâje Kathir himself becomes the vizier of Nasr‑e Sayyâr, the governor of Khorasan. The two sons of Khwâje Kathir, called Othmân and Soleymân, happen to be of the same age as Abu-Moslem and become his friends and companions. He also makes other friends in Marv, including Khordâd the Ironsmith who had been a friend of Abu-Moslem’s father. He makes a special battle-axe for Abu-Moslem and this becomes his personal weapon on the battlefields. Abu-Moslem and his friends, including the sons of Kathir, decide to rise against the “Khârejiyân” (outsiders), i. e., those who are hostile to the Alid House, and hurl abuse at them. In this story, Abu-Moslem and his companions who are devoted to the House of Ali are called the faithful (mo’menân) and Moslems (mosalmânân), as opposed to the “Khârejiyân.” At Soleymân the son of Kathir’s suggestion, they obtain a handwritten permission from Imam Bâqer, the fifth Imam of the Shi’ites, which of course has no historical basis. According to Abu-Moslem-nâme, the eponymous hero begins his revolt against the governor of Khorasan in Marv, Nasr‑e Sayyâr, who has been appointed by Marvân‑e Hemâr. Abu-Moslem thus becomes known as “Sâheb-al-Da’ve” (One who Summons). A multitude of peasants, artisans, craftsmen, and particularly ayyârs, gather round him and aid him in his uprising and fight many battles with Nasr‑e Sayyâr and his sons and the pro-Marvân sympathizers (marvâniyân). There are numerous ayyârs at the service of Abu Moslem but the most eminent of them are Sa’d Dhulâbi and Hayd Ali-âbâdi, who eventually die a martyr’s death, and a female ayyâr, Sati. The most prominent champion warrior in Abu-Moslem’s army is Ahmad Zamji, who continues Abu-Moslem’s rebellion against the Abbasids until he himself is killed. Qesse-ye Zamji-nâme is about his exploits. After many a battle, Abu-Moslem finally defeats Nasr‑e Sayyâr, who is killed. Many rulers and kings join Abu-Moslem, who continues his campaign and conquers cities one after another and engages Marvân in battle. Marvân escapes to Egypt but is finally defeated and hanged. Abu Moslem removes the Marvanid 422

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establishment from power and makes Saffâh the caliph. But later he bitterly regrets this move and becomes ill at the thought of his own failure to place someone from the Alid lineage on the caliph’s throne. Saffâh dies, and Abu Ja’far (who is mostly referred to as Ja’far in the text) succeeds him as caliph. But he is apprehensive about Abu Moslem. He first dupes Soleymân Kathir to murder Abu Moslem by means of a poisoned apple, but the plot is uncovered by Abu-Moslem and Soleymân himself dies. Later Abu-Moslem is killed by a sword at the court of Abu Ja’far, thanks to his deceit and stratagem. On rare occasions, there is some talk of magic and talismans in Abu-Moslem-nâme but mostly the depiction is a realistic one, along with the usual exaggerations characteristic of these kinds of stories. The main themes of the story revolve round the defense of the Alid House and vindicating Imam Hoseyn’s martyrdom, and the description of the many battles of Abu-Moslem and his followers, and accounts of the ways and deeds of the ayyârs. The popularity of the story among the general public in the Safavid period was such that when one of the religious scholars of the 17th century, named Mir Lowhi, wrote a polemic against Abu-Moslem in a book, there was a public riot against him, leading other scholars, like Majlesi, to come to the defense of Lowhi.121Abu-Moslem-nâme has also been translated into Turkish.122 Qesse-ye Qerân‑e Habashi is an ayyâri tale about an Iranian ayyâr called Qerân Habashi (Qerân of Abyssinia) who lives in Damascus, at the service of the Iranian king Qobâd. A merchant called Khalil who had travelled to Turân, brings the portrait of the daughter of the king of China to Qobâd, and Ardeshir, the king’s eldest son, upon seeing the picture falls in love with the Chinese princess. Qobâd sends his vizier, Homây, along with Khalil the Merchant and others to China, bearing many gifts, to ask the Chinese king to agree to the marriage of his daughter to Ardeshir. But the 121 Gholâm-Hoseyn Yusofi: Abu Moslem: sardâr‑e Khorâsân (Tehran, 1977). p. 184. 122 See Irène Mélikoff, Abū Muslim, le ‘Porte-Hache’ du Khorassan dans la tradition épique Turco-Iranienne (Paris, 1962).

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Chinese king, who bears great enmity towards Iranians on account of Afrâsiyâb (the mythical king), imprisons all the envoys. Qerân Habashi who had for some reason remained behind, outside the town, is thus saved from prison and reports back to king Qobâd. The focus of the story is on the war between the Chinese and the Iranian armies for the rescue of Homây and the rest. The main hero of these wars turns out to be Qerân Habashi who, along with his ayyâr comrades, undertakes many a daring feat and outstanding missions. Apparently, next to Samak‑e ayyâr, there is more talk of the ayyârs and their ways and techniques in Qerân‑e Habashi than any other naqqâli tale, as also suggested by the very title of the two books, which bear the name of the tales’ two outstanding ayyârs. Most of the manuscripts of Qerân‑e Habashi are in Turkish and so far only one manuscript of the text in Persian, which must be the original of the story, has been noted. It is kept at the Staatsbibliothek in Berlin (no. or fol. 3180). The other story whose narration is attributed to Abu Tâher Tarsusi is called Qesse-ye Qahramân‑e Qâtel or Qahramân-nâme, and, as with Qesse-ye Qerân‑e Habashi, most of the manuscripts are in Turkish. A copy of the Persian version, or rather the arch-version, is also at the Staatsbibliothek in Berlin (no. 1039 [Petermann 425]) and is mentioned by the Iranian scholar Mohammad Qazvini (d. 1949) in one of his notebooks.123 There are also several lithographed editions of Qahramân-nâme,124 but apparently there are variants in their texts in relation to the Berlin manuscript. According to Qahramân-nâme, the eponymous hero is the son and designated successor of Tahmurath Div-band (Demon-binder), the king of Iran from the mythical Pishdâdiyân dynasty. The demons (divs) succeed in kidnapping Qahramân in infancy and bring him up amongst themselves hoping that later they can, with his assistance, overcome mankind. But when Qahramân reaches adolescence and learns of his past, he asks the demons to return him to his 123 Mohammad Qazvini, Yâddâshthâ, ed. Iraj Afshâr (10 vols. in 5, Tehran, 1984), IX-X, pp. 2714–17. 124 Marzolph, Narrative Illustration, p. 257.

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homeland. When Qahramân arrives in Iran, Hushang is the king of Iran and at war with India. Hushang Shah receives Qahramân in a fitting and worthy manner, and he becomes the champion-warrior of the Iranian army. The main subject of Qahramân-nâme is the frequent wars between Iran and India, and Qahramân Qâtel and his ayyâr, Gardankeshân, exhibit many a valorous deed in these battles. Moreover, in the course of these wars Qahramân and the daughter of the king of India, Sarv‑e Kharâman, fall in love. In Qahramân-nâme the hero is sâheb-qerân and his mount is a maritime creature, which he has found in the course of one of the episodes.

Religious-Heroic Stories The Safavids succeeded in the formation of a centralized government in Iran and declared Shi’ism as the official religion of the state. In this process, they were aided by public entertainers who, with their recitals of the worthy deeds of the Prophet’s household and descendants (Ahl‑e beyt) and stories about the heroes of Shi’i history, were contributing to spread Shi’ite beliefs and buttressing the Safavid rule. As mentioned before, according to Fotovvat-nâme-ye soltâni, the reciters of Shi’ite deeds and the naqqâls were followers of the codes of fotovvat; and in the Safavid period, they were mostly to be found in the garb of dervishes and as followers of the Heydariyye tariqe, which was itself a branch of the Qalandariyye, whose codes and tenets were very much connected to those of javânmardi and fotovvat. Later, in the Qajar period, the dervishes of Khâksâriyye and the Ferqe-ye Ajam who were also engaged in naqqâli and in reciting panegyric accounts of Shi’ite holy figures, were in essence the continuation of the Heydari qalandars of the Safavid times.125

125 For further reference to the sources for this topic see Mehrân Afshâri, Âyin‑e javânmardi, marâm o soluk‑e tabaqe-ye âmme-ye Irân (Tehran, 2005), pp. 70–79.

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The entire corpus of stories from the Safavid period is not a product of the compilations of the naqqâls. Some of them are the work of their co-participants in supporting the Safavids, i. e., the narrators eulogizing Shi’ite holy figures (manâqeb-khwânân) and preachers from the pulpit who also extolled them. Mokhtâr-nâme (The Book of Mokhtâr) and Mosayyeb-nâme (The Book of Mosayyeb), two books that deal with avenging the blood of the Karbala martyrs, fall into this category. The style and manner of these two books do not tally with those of the naqqâls. They bear little trace of the special expressions and idiosyncrasies embedded in naqqâli narratives. Nevertheless, and in spite of the fact that the writers of these books had intended to write historical accounts, they fall into the category of popular stories, and for years their lithographed editions were a source of entertainment for the Iranian public. Mokhtâr-nâme deals with the uprising of Mokhtâr (killed in 687), the son of Abi-Obeyd Thaqafi, who rebelled in order to avenge the martyrdom of Imam Hoseyn and punished and killed the agents of the Umayyads who had been involved in the events at Karbala and the martyrdom of Imam Hoseyn and his children and companions. The book was written by one of the pulpit eulogizers of the 16 th century called Atâ b. Hosâm Vâ’ez‑e Heravi. It seems that in writing his work, he was very much influenced by Rowzat al-shohadâ (Garden of the Martyrs) by Mollâ Hoseyn Vâ’ez Kâshefi Sabzevâri, who also authored Fotovvat-nâme-ye soltâni.126 The alternative title for Mokhtâr-nâme is Rowzat al-Mojâhedin, presumably echoing Kâshefi’s title, Rowzat al-shohadâ. Following the tradition of preachers from the pulpit and religious eulogizers, the author of Mokhtâr-nâme informs us that the contents of his book are based on Abu Mekhnaf Lut b. Yahyâ’s narration.127 Abu Mekhnaf, (d. 774) to whom some material 126 For further information, see Peter Chelkowski, “Kashefi’s Rowzat al-shohadâ: The Karbala Narrative as Underpinning of Popular and Religious Culture and Literature,” in HPL Vol. XVIII Companion Vol. II (London, 2010), pp. 261–77. 127 Atâ-Allâ b. Hosâm Vâ’ez Heravi, Kolliyyât‑e haft jeldi-ye ketâb‑e Mokhtârnâme (Tehran, n. d.), p. 6.

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in Abu-Moslem-nâme is also attributed,128 was a Shi’i scholar in his own right and author of several books including Maqtal‑e Ali, Maqtal‑e Hoseyn, and Akhbâr‑e Mokhtâr.129 There are some historical figures in the book, including Mokhtâr, who is killed during his fight to avenge the martyrs of Karbala. Mosayyeb-nâme also must be attributed to the writings of religious eulogizers but it reads more like a fictitious story than Mokhtâr-nâme. It relates the uprising of Mosayyeb b. Najabe b. Rabi’e b. Riyâh Fazari to avenge the blood of Imam Hoseyn in 684 ce. Mosayyeb himself was one of Ali’s commanders, but in Mosayyeb-nâme, he is introduced as the son of Qa’qâ’. Mosayyeb’s father and brother are killed at the battle of Siffin while fighting on Ali’s side, and Ali makes Mosayyeb his honorary son and issues the edict of his uprising with his own hand. The writer has confused historical facts. Qa’qâ’ was not Mosayyeb’s father although Qa’qâ’ b. Amr Tamimi is a historical figure in his own right and was part of Ali’s army in the battle of Siffin.130 There is plenty of imaginary material in Mosayyeb-nâme with no historical validity. This includes the reference to Imam Ali b. Hoseyn, known as Zeyn-al-‘Âbedin, being a prisoner of Yezid b. Mo’avie, and Mosayyeb rising to free him and attacking Egypt and Syria on several occasions, until he manages to set the Imam free. Mohammad b. Zeyd b. Ali, the grandson of Imam Zeynal-Âbedin, accompanies Mosayyeb in his wars, and in the final battle against the enemies of the House of Ali, Mohammad b. Zeyd disappears in the water, and angels take Mosayyeb to the world above. Also, as in the books of the naqqâls, the counting of heads in Mosayyeb-nâme is highly overblown and the number of people who get killed by him appears grossly exaggerated.131 Nevertheless, the conjecture that Mosayyeb-nâme must have had an oral version and was used 128 Tarsusi, Abu-Moslem-nâme, IV, p. 486. 129 Ebn-al-Nadim, Fehrest, I, pp. 291–92. 130 See the entries on Qa’qâ’ and Mosayyeb in Dehkhodâ’s Loghat-nâme. 131 Sadr-al-Din Elâhi, “Pas az khwândan‑e ketâbi, dar bâre-ye hamâse-ye dini-ye âmmiyâne: Mosayyeb-nâme,” Irân-shenâsi, V/1, (Spring 1994), pp. 140–41.

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by naqqâls132 cannot be upheld and this book cannot be included in the rubric of naqqâli works. Another story with a religious theme which was compiled in the Safavid period and which must be included in the repertoire of the naqqâls, since there are many naqqâli ingredients embedded in it, is Khâvar-nâme (Book of the East). The naqqâli prose version is based on the verse epic, Khâvarân-nâme (Book of Eastern Lands), composed by Ebn-Hosâm Khusfi, a religious eulogizer of the 15 th century. A neglected genre which enjoyed some popularity is that of Velâyat-nâme (Book of Governorship). These verse narratives with an epic tone deal mainly with the bravery and chivalry of Ali. They are usually fused with mythical and fictitious material. The versified Khâvarân-nâme of Ebn-Hosâm is in essence a Velâyat-nâme. Synopsis: In the beginning of this verse narrative, which is replicated in the prose naqqâli version as well, two of the Prophet’s companions, Abu’l-Mehjan and Sa’d‑e Vaqqâs, depart from Mecca for the Eastern Lands (khâvar-zamin). The Prophet sends Ali to search for them. Having found those two, Ali accompanied by the Moslem army, proceeds to the Eastern Lands and fights Jamshid Shah, the local ruler. He then goes to the land of Sâhel and fights Tahmâs, the champion-warrior of the people of Sâhel, and proceeds to the Pass of Dâl and fights with Salsâl. The Moslem army is victorious in all these battles. Mâlek Ashtar, Qanbar, and Amr Omayye are escorting Ali and assist him in these ventures. Finally, they all return to Medina. Khâvar-nâme is fiction throughout, and although its heroes such as Ali, Mâlek‑e Ashtar, Abu’l-Mehjan, and Sa’d‑e Vaqqâs are all historical characters, the plot of the story bears no relation to reality. In the lithographed editions of Khâvar-nâme, Abu’l-Mehjan appears as Abu’l-Me’jan and Mâlek‑e Ashtar as Mâlek‑e Azhdar. Amr Omayye exhibits many ayyâri acts, and Ali is depicted 132 Elâhi, “Pas az khwândan‑e ketâbi. p. 142.

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without the aura of immaculate holiness appropriate to a Shi’i imam, but is capable of lying just like ordinary folk.133 The book is replete with naqqâli expressions and phrases and motifs. Dreams play a large part in the story. Many a time the Prophet enters the dream of an individual and consequently converts him to Islam;134 or they serve as portents; future events appear in the heroes’ dreams, and the Prophet guides them in their dreams.135 Not all the contents of the naqqâli version of Khâvar-nâme accord with the versified version. Khâvar-nâme falls in the category of religious Shi’ite stories and when one compares it with Mokhtârnâme and Mosayyeb-nâme, one may conclude that the stories of preachers from the pulpit and religious eulogizers tend to conform more closely to historical facts than the tales of the naqqâls.

Qesse-ye Hoseyn‑e Kord‑e Shabestari or Hoseyn-nâme Among the stories of the naqqâls, historical material is more evident in the Qesse-ye Hoseyn‑e Kord‑e Shabestari than in all the others. The adventures in this story occur during the reign of the Safavid Shah Abbâs (r. 1588–1628). The eponymous hero comes from the ranks of the common people and had begun life as a shepherd. He is later trained by one of the champion-warriors at the court of Shah Abbâs called Masih Tokme-band Tabrizi. The other title for Qesse-ye Hoseyn‑e Kord‑e Shabestari is Yatim-­nâme. Yatim is used here in the sense of a novice or a champion new to his art and is mentioned as such in the 16 th century in the book Badâye’ al-vaqâye’ (Strange Events).136 In this story, Hoseyn Kord has the status of a yatim.137 We know of two distinct versions of Qesse-ye Hoseyn‑e Kord‑e Shabestari. One is a 133 Ebn-Hosâm, Khâvar-nâme, lith. ed. of Abd-al-Hoseyn Khwânsâri (Tehran, 1864) pp. 41, 43, 101, 130. 134 Ebn-Hosâm, Khâvar-nâme, lith. ed., pp. 70, 80. 135 Ebn-Hosâm, Khâvar-nâme, lith. ed., pp. 30, 85, 135. 136 Vâsefi, Badâye’ al-vaqâye’, I, pp. 482–83, 485, II, p. 234. 137 Ketâb‑e Hoseyn‑e Kord‑e Shabestari al-mosammâ be Yatim-nâme, p. 14.

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relatively slim volume that has been printed many times in the Qajar period and afterwards.138 The story starts with a grievance: Masih Tokme-band Tabrizi has created mayhem in Balkh and Khatâ and has killed two Uzbek commanders. Thus Abd-Allâh Khan the Uzbek (r. 1583–97) and Shah Jahân of Khatâ decide to take revenge. They send their troops, led by the two commanders Babrâz Khan and Akhtar Khan, to Iran with a mission to kill Masih Tokmeband and to bring home the severed head of Shah Abbâs. This outline at the beginning of the story is proof enough that the lithographed texts of Qesse-ye Hoseyn‑e Kord, and the later popular commercial prints based on them, are segments from a much larger work in which the earlier parts of the story, such as the account of Masih going to Balkh and the account of his creating mayhem there, were described, though at present the manuscript of the detailed and complete version appears lost without a trace. In the lithograph editions and the later commercial prints, the Uzbek commanders enter Iran incognito, and they then divide into two groups. One goes to Isfahan, and the other proceeds to Tabriz, in order to perpetuate murder and sabotage. Here Hoseyn-e Kord, who is a powerfully built shepherd, enters the scene. He receives training at the hand of Masih Tokme-band Tabrizi and Bâbâ Hasan Bid-âbâdi,and acquires martial skills. He kills Babrâz Khan and Akhtar Khan and then travels to India. The major portion of the book concerns his many adventures in Indian cities, in particular in Shahjahanabad and Hyderabad. The other version of Hoseyn-e Kord is called Hoseyn-nâme, which exists in a manuscript (no. 162) at the Russian Academy of Sciences in St. Petersburg. It differs greatly from the lithographed editions discussed above and is far more voluminous. It is also the oldest manuscript of Qesse‑e ye Hoseyn‑e Kord hitherto found. It has two dates for being copied, 1840 and 1844. The first part, dated 1840 , contains the bulk of the book, while the second part, dated 1844, contains a brief story about the voyages and battles of Mir Esmâ’il, the son of Bâqer Âjor-paz (the Brick-Maker) and shows influences from Qesse-ye Hamze. The most distinguishing factor 138 Marzolph, Narrative Illustration, p. 299.

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regarding Hoseyn-nâme, in relation to the lithographed Hoseyn‑e Kord, is that apart from Hoseyn-e Kord himself, a whole host of other local heroes of the Safavid period are also present as the main heroes of different sections. These include Mir Bâqer Âjor-paz and his son Mir Esmâ’il, Mollâ Mohammad Fârsi, and Yuzbâshi Kord-bache. Only in some sections is Hoseyn-e Kord the main hero of the story. The heroes of this story are mostly local artisans, headed by Mir Bâqer the Brick-Maker who has a takye (refuge, meeting-place) where he teaches martial arts to the local pahlavâns. All these champions serve at the court of the Safavid Shah Abbâs. Hoseyn-nâme illustrates how, as well as having the support of the Qezelbâsh, the Safavids made use of the populace in the streets and bazaars to bolster their rule and their domain as well as to spread their religious beliefs and policies. The overall plot of Qesse-ye Hoseyn‑e Kord‑e Shabestari or Hoseyn-nâme revolves round the descriptions of the battles and the ayyâri feats of Iranian warrior-heroes during the reign of Shah Abbâs and against the foes of the Safavids, and in particular against the Uzbeks in the north and the Ottoman Turks to the west of Iran. The Iranians appear as staunch supporters and proselytizers for the Shi’ite faith while their enemies belong to the Sunni faith. Historical figures appear more frequently in this story than in other naqqâli stories. The Safavid Shah Abbâs, the Uzbek AbdAllâh Khan, Jalâl-al-Din Akbar Shah (r. 1557–1605), and Abd-Allâh Qotb-Shâh (r. 1611–72), were all powerful rulers and although they were not all in power at the same time, they are regarded as contemporaries in Qesse-ye-Hoseyn‑e Kord.139 Turkish words and phrases are more frequently used in Qesse-ye Hoseyn‑e Kord‑e Shabestari than in other stories. There is also more bawdiness and obscene episodes and more frequent cursing and swearing than in other naqqâli stories. For the study of the social history of the Safavid period, Qesse-ye Hoseyn‑e Kord‑e Shabestari is an extremely rich source.

139 Rosemary Stanfield-Johnson, “The Hyderabad Connection in the Hoseyn‑e Kord,” Deccan Studies 2/2 (July–December 2004), p. 73.

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Rostam-nâme and the Naqqâli Tumârs (Scrolls) of the Shâh-nâme The influence and impact of Ferdowsi’s Shâh-nâme on Iranian culture and literature has been very extensive, and the fact that the naqqâls employed its stories in their repertoire is not surprising. At least from the Safavid era, stories which had been culled from the Shâh-nâme were written down in the manner and style of naqqâli, just like other stories such as the Eskandar-nâme, Samak‑e ayyâr, and Firuzshâh-nâme were written down. The naqqâls refer to their own written versions of the Shâh-nâme as tumârs (scrolls).140 The oldest tumâr manuscript dates from 1723, i. e. towards the end of the Safavid era, and was written down by Mohammad Siyâh-push. It is preserved in the Minovi Library in Tehran (no. 135). The tumârs of the naqqâls are not necessarily limited in scope to the stories in the Shâh-nâme. They also contain stories from other narrative poems of Iranian national epics such as Garshâsp-nâme, Bahman-­ nâme, Kush-nâme, Farâmarz-nâme, Jahângir-nâme, and Sâm-nâme, as well as further additions emanating from their own imagination. According to naqqâli tradition, the Shâh-nâme scroll begins with the story of Kayumarth. After that, the stories of other Pishdadid kings, Siyâmak, Hushang, Tahmurath, and Jamshid, are recounted, mostly based on the Shâh-nâme. In recounting the story of Jamshid and Zahhâk, as well as the Shâh-nâme, Asadi’s Garshâp-nâme is also drawn upon. Garshasp’s story is told alongside that of Fereydun. And then the whole story of Sâm, the grandson of Garshâsp, and his love for Paridokht, the daughter of the Chinese emperor (khâqân) in the Sâm-nâme allegedly attributed to Khwâju of Kerman (although this is highly debatable), is related. After the adventures of Sâm comes the story of Zâl and Rudâbe from the Shâh-nâme, then the birth of Rostam and his battle with Kok‑e Kuhzâd, and the slaying of Babr‑e Bayân (a fierce tiger or leopard),141 which of course do not tally with the contents of the 140 Haft lashkar, preface, p. 31. 141 For further information, see Dj. Khalaghi-Motlagh, “Babr‑e bayan,” in EIr, III, pp. 324–25.

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Shâh-nâme. After this, we return again to the stories that appear in the Shâh-nâme including the story of Keykâvus, the seven khâns (labors) of Rostam, and the story of Rostam and Sohrâb. Then the stories of Rostam’s other children, Farâmarz, Bânu Goshasp and Jahângir are cited, based on such popular verse narratives as Farâmarz-nâme, Bânu Goshasp-nâme, and Jahângir-nâme. Then again one reverts to the Shâh-nâme including the story of Siyâvash, that of Kuh‑e Hamâvan, and the tale of Bijan and Manije. The story of Borzu, the son of Sohrâb and thus Rostam’s grandson, is told on the basis of Borzu-nâme. This is followed by the story of Haft Lashkar (Seven Armies), which is the invention of the naqqâls themselves and compiled by them. In Haft Lashkar, all the Rostam clan is present and the story follows the pattern of the Rostam and Sohrâb episode. Borzu marries the daughter of the ruler of Khwârazm and then travels to the land of Iran. Timur, or Tamur, the offspring of this union, is the central hero of this imaginary tale. In his youth, and intending to place his father Borzu on the Iranian throne in place of Keykhosrow, he arrives in Iran in the company of Afrasiyâb and the Turanian troops. In Iran, he engages in battle with the Rostam clan, but finally and without any bloodshed, they recognize each other. During these episodes, Borzu breaks Rostam’s shoulder blade. Shamkur, son of Shamilân, also referred to as One-Hand Rostam, who is the symbol of deceitfulness, unmanly conduct, and evil temperament, steals Rakhsh, Rostam’s horse. Timur battles with the Iranians on many occasions. Farâmarz and Borzu fight against each other in their rivalry over Rostam’s succession. Jahânbakhsh, the son of Farâmarz, proceeds to his own seven stations (haft khân) in search of Rakhsh. At the end of the story of Haft Lashkar, the narrative returns to some of the stories in the Shâh-nâme, including that of Rostam and Esfandiyâr, and then the death of Rostam through Shaghâd’s cunning ruse is described. Afterwards and based on Irânshâh b. Abi’lKheyr’s Bahman-nâme, the story of Bahman, son of Esfandiyâr and his revenge from the Rostam clan for the blood of Esfandiyâr is mentioned. The naqqâli scrolls end with the story of Âdhar Borzin, the son of Farâmarz and an account of Bahman’s death. Owing 433

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to its colorful depiction of the ayyâr’s many cunning stratagems, Haft Lashkar was extremely popular among the naqqâls.142 There is another book, entitled Rostam-nâme, which appeared in several lithographed editions even before the manuscript of Haft Lashkar, including one dated 1862.143 In essence, it is a naqqâli scroll that, contrary to the traditional scrolls of the Shâh-nâme, begins with the birth of Rostam and ends with the final days of Afrâsiyâb. It is thus an abridged and incomplete scroll which attracted fame in the Qajar period through its lithographed edition, along with the other two popular lithographed books, Hoseyn‑e Kord‑e Shabestari and Amir Arsalân.144 The writing of naqqâli scrolls has survived to the present era, and most of the famous naqqâls leave behind scrolls of their own.

Bustân‑e khiyâl The strangest and longest of all popular stories in the naqqâli genre is Bustân‑e khiyâl, which was compiled in India in the 18th century. Its writer and compiler was Mir Mohammad-Taqi Ja’fari Hoseyni Ahmadâbâdi whose pen-name in his poems was “Khiyâl.” He was born in Ahmadabad in Gujarat and was a grandson of Mohammad Ghowth Gawaliyâri (d. 1562) and a student of Mohammad Afzal Thâbet Allâhâbâdi (d. 1738). He belonged to the entourage of Serâjal-Dowle (Siraj ud-Daulah), the Nawab of Bengal (r. 1756–57). He died in 1760 at Morshidabad.145 Ja’fari Hoseyni began his famous book Bustân‑e khiyâl in 1742 at Shahjahanabad and finished it at Morshidabad in 1756.146

142 This scroll has been edited and published by Mehran Afshari and Mehdi Madâyeni, based on the unicum MS. of 1875 kept at the Majles library in Tehran (Tehran, 1998). 143 Ulrich Marzolph, Narrative Illustration in Persian Lithographed Books, p. 259. 144 Mohammad-Ja’far Mahjub, Adabiyyât‑e ‘ âmmiyâne-ye Irân, I, pp. 473–76. 145 Mohammad Yusof-Ali Sabâ, Tadhkere-ye Ruz‑e rowshan, ed. Mohammad-Hoseyn Roknzâde Âdamiyyat (Tehran, 1965), p. 250. 146 Mahjub, Adabiyyât‑e âmmiyâne-ye Irân, I, p. 620.

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Bustân‑e khiyâl consists of three long and interconnected stories about three fictitious heroes along with some strange happenings and stories involving jinns and paris.147 The names of some of the heroes are derived from the names of some of the Fatimid Caliphs of Egypt, including Abu’l-Qâsem Mohammad al-Qâ’em be-amr-Allâh (r. 934–46 ce) and Abu Tamim Ma’add al-Mo’ezz le-din-Allâh (r. 953–75 ce). Although Ja’fari Hoseyni has indicated, through the words of one of the heroes of the story, that he is a Twelver Shi’i,148 the heroes of his story, however, are in reality of the Ismaili sect, and in the story itself, by Shi’ite he means the Ismailis. The divisions and chapters of this fifteen-volume book are extremely bizarre and complex. The book is divided into three large sections entitled bahâr (spring). The first bahâr covers the first two volumes of the book and deals with the ancestors of Mo’ezz-alDin, and is entitled Mahdi-nâme.149 The second bahâr, which includes volumes three to seven, is also called Golestan‑e avval (First Rose-garden) and concerns Mo’ezz-al-Din al-Qâ’em be-amr-Allâh (Sâheb-qerân‑e akbar). In itself, it contains a preface, and two golshans (flower gardens), with each golshan having two subsidiary sections named golzâr (flower meadow). In some manuscripts, this section is also called by different titles: Mo’ezz-nâme, Qâ’em-nâme, and Saheb-qerân-nâme.150 The third bahâr, also called the second Golestân, includes the rest of the volumes of the book and also the remaining part of the story of Mo’ezz-al-Din, as well as stories 147 Carl Hermann Ethé, “Neupersische Literatur,” tr. with commentary into Persian by Sâdeq Rezâzâde Shafaq as Târikh‑e adabiyyât‑e Fârsi (Tehran, 1972), p. 218. Charles Rieu, Catalogue of Persian Manuscripts in the British Museum (3 vols., London, 1879–83), II, p. 711. 148 Mahjub, Adabiyyât‑e âmmiyâne-ye Irân, I, p. 640 149 Eduard Sachau et al., Catalogue of the Persian, Turkish, Hindûstâni and Pushtû Manuscripts in the Bodleian Library I: The Persian Manuscripts (Oxford, 1889), col. 440. Carl Hermann Ethé, Catalogue of Persian Manuscripts in the Library of the India Office (2 vols., Oxford, 1903), I, col. 537. 150 Rieu, Catalogue of Persian Manuscripts in the British Museum, II, p. 771; Ethé, Catalogue of Persian Manuscripts in the Library of the India Office, I, nos. 538–39; Abd-al-Hoseyn Hâ’eri, Fehrest ketâb-khâne-ye Majles-e shurâ-ye melli (Tehran, 1973), I/4, p. 2112.

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about prince Khorshid‑e Tâj-bakhsh and Prince Badr Monir. Some of its volumes are called Khorshid-nâme and its second volume is called Shâhnâme-ye bozorg (great Shâh-nâme) and this volume, in itself is divided into two sections called shatr (part).151 Although Ja’fari Hoseyni was himself a naqqâl and Bustân‑e khiyâl is written throughout in the style of the naqqâls, it seems unlikely that his book was ever used for recitation in coffee-houses by the naqqâls. Bustân‑e khiyâl is an example of the Persian prose of the Indian subcontinent in the 18 th century. The most complete manuscript of the text is found in the Bodleian library in Oxford (no. 480); copies also exist at the India Office Library, London (now part of the British Library, nos. 833–845), and in India in the Bankipore Oriental Public Library (nos. 749–765) and in the Bihar Library (nos. 448–460). Some sections of Bustân‑e khiyâl have appeared in lithographed editions (Bombay, 1892; Lahore, 1918; and Peshawar, 1964),152 but a complete edition has yet to appear in print. Parts of Bustân‑e khiyâl have been translated several times into Urdu, including an Urdu abridgment, which was published in Bhagalpur under the title of Zobdat al-khiyâl in 1844.153

Amir Arsalân The last naqqâli story to achieve great fame in Iran was Qesse-ye Amir Arsalân It was compiled by Mohammad-Ali Naqib-alMamâlek Shirâzi, who was Nâser-al-Din Shah’s (r. 1848–96) personal naqqâl. Naqib-al-Mamâlek used to recount portions of the story by the shah’s bedside until he fell asleep. One of the shah’s daughters, Turân Âghâ, entitled Fakhr-al-Dowle, who used to 151 Ethé, “Neupersische Literatur,” tr. Shafaq, p. 218; Mahjub, Adabiyyât‑e âmmiyâne-ye Irân, I, pp. 621–23. 152 Âref Nowshâhi, Fehrest‑e ketâbhâ-ye Fârsi-ye châpi-ye sangi va kamyâb‑e ketâb-khâne-ye Ganjbakhsh (Islamabad, 1986), pp. 555–56. 153 Akhtar Râhi Safir, Tarjome-hâ-ye motun‑e Fârsi be-zabânhâ-ye pâkestâni (Islamabad, 1986), p. 257.

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listen to the story from another room, wrote it all down quickly.154 It is probable that Fakhr-al-Dowle completed her copying of the story around 1880.155 Naqib-al-Mamâlek also composed another story entitled Malek Jamshid (King Jamshid), Telesm‑e Âsef va hamâm‑e bolur (Âsef’s Talisman and the Crystal Bath), which has much in common with Amir Arsalân in terms of phrases and the poems in it. The main protagonist in Amir Arsalân is its eponymous hero who is the son of Malekshâh, King of Rum. In the course of an episode, he comes across a picture of Farrokh-leqâ, the daughter of Petrus, the Farangi king, and loses his heart to her. In order to obtain her hand, he sets out for Farang, the land of his foes. As soon as Amir Arsalân arrives in Farang, he rushes to see Farrokh-leqâ in the cover of the night, stealthily enters her palace, and realizes that Farrokh-leqâ is also in love with him. The two lovers manage to meet on many occasions in private and engage in dalliance. The prefect of the town is also seeking to marry Farrokh-leqâ, but he is killed by Amir Arsalân. Petrus Shah tries to find out who had murdered his prefect. He has two viziers: Shams the Vizier, who is a Moslem and good-natured, though he has to hide his religion; and Qamar the Vizier, who is an evil-natured and cunning sorcerer but has the shah’s trust. This sub-plot of a king with a good vizier and a bad one has precedents in popular stories of previous eras.156 The wicked Qamar the Vizier is himself in love with Farrokh-leqâ, although he has kept this secret from everyone. Since he is a sorcerer, he has put Farrokh-leqâ under a spell so that he can marry her. Qamar the Vizier manages through trickery to throw Shams the Vizier into prison. Amir Arsalân is unaware of the fact that Shams the Vizier is on his side and Qamar the Vizier is, on the contrary, his rival and enemy. He is duped by Qamar the Vizier and reveals his identity to him. Qamar the Vizier manages through sorcery to kidnap Farrokh-leqâ and hides her. In his search for 154 Dust-Ali Mo’ayyer-al-Mamâlek, “Rejâl‑e ahd‑e Nâseri,” Yaghmâ 12 (1955– 56), p. 556. 155 Christophe Balaÿ, La genèse du roman persan moderne, tr. Mahvash Qavimi and Nasrin Khattât as Paydâyesh-e rumân-e Fârsi (Tehran, 1998), p. 243. 156 Jamâl Mir-Sâdeqi, Adabiyyât‑e dâstâni, pp. 63–64.

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Farrokh-leqâ, Amir Arsalân wanders off into deserts and strange and bewitched lands and suffers many a hardship. In the course of some adventures, he encounters jinns and paris and falls into the hands of Marjâne the Witch. He goes to the Sangbârân citadel and kills Fulâd-zere the Div. When he finds out that all the evil and mayhem had emanated from Qamar the Vizier, he manages, under the guidance of Shams the Vizier, to kill Qamar the Vizier and find Farrokh-leqâ. Finally, Petrus Shah is reconciled to him and the two lovers marry and return to Rum.157 According to Mahjub the widespread popularity and superiority of Amir Arsalân is due its depiction of the variety of scenes and adventures.158 One of the most important virtues of the story has to do with its powerful evocation of events, arousing the reader’s curiosity to pursue the course of events to their end.159 The story also contains echoes of historical facts. The name of the main hero is reminiscent of Alp-Arsalân, the famous Seljuk monarch (r. 1063– 1072). Thus in the story itself, their position is revered and Arsalân becomes Malekshâh’s son. Their reign in Rum is also reminiscent of the reign of Seljuks of Rum (Anatolia), and the enmity between the Moslems of Asia Minor and the Christian ‘Franks’ is also based on historical facts.160 Apparently Naqib-al-mamâlek had some knowledge of life in Europe, based on hearsay or his reading of travel books and mixed and fused together in his imagination theatres and opera-houses in Europe with coffee-houses in Iran and created in his story a space called Tamâshâ-khâne-ye Farang (European Playhouse), where much of the action takes place.161 157 Mohammad-Ali Naqib-al-Mamalek of Shiraz, Amir Arsalân, ed. M. J. Mahjub (Tehran, 1970). This is a complete and scholarly edition of the book based on a private manuscript belonging to Mo’ir-al-Mamâlek dated 1888 (1305 Q.) with a detailed and erudite introduction. The location of this MS is unknown at present. 158 Naqib-al-Mamâlek, Amir Arsalân, preface, p. 22. 159 Golâm-Hoseyn Yusofi, Didâr bâ ahl‑e qalam (2 vols., Mashhad, 1978–79) II, pp. 13, 17–19. 160 Naqib-al-Mamâlek, Amir Arsalân, preface, pp. 5–6. 161 Naqib-al-Mamâlek, Amir Arsalân, preface, pp. 24–26.

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Amir Arsalân had such a strong impact on popular culture in Iran that even today some of the characters in the story are used as familiar prototypes in everyday parlance. For example, the entry of a mischievous troublemaker is referred to as the arrival of Qamar the Vizier, and a shrewish and ugly old woman is compared to the mother of the div Fulâd-zere (mâdar‑e Fulâd-zere).

4. Shorter Popular Stories Written in the Style of Naqqâli Among the popular stories composed in the Safavid period and later, there are a number of stories in naqqâli circles that have not been transformed from oral delivery to a written naqqâli format. Instead, they are written by anonymous writers in the manner of Persian popular stories. Even if the writers of these shorter stories were not professional storytellers, they are certainly familiar with the motifs that one finds in naqqâli stories and even with the expressions and idiosyncrasies of their diction, perhaps through their perusal or through frequent attendance at their performances; and they used them in their own work. Some of these stories were frequently published in lithographs in the 19th century and hence reached widespread fame. Their lithographed editions, like their various surviving manuscripts, vary from each other, owing to different scribal changes and emendations. These texts not only provide some entertainment for the public at large, but also reflect the same public’s social customs and beliefs. Love is the topic of many of these short tales; the love of a prince and a princess and their final union. One of these short romantic stories with many extant manuscript copies in libraries in Iran, India, and Europe, perhaps surpassing all other popular stories in this aspect, is Qesse-ye Mehr o Mâh. The existence of so many manuscripts is indicative of the story’s great popularity in the past. Nevertheless, since it was never issued in a lithograph edition, it has remained unknown in Iran in more recent times. 439

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The story concerns the love of the prince Mehr, from the eastern lands, who is a son of Khâvar Shâh, for the princess Mâh, from the western lands, who is the daughter of Helâl Maghrebi. The two lovers undergo a great deal of suffering and hardship before they are finally united. The narrative is full of supernatural elements such as magic, charms, and witchcraft. The writer/compiler of Qesse-ye Mehr o Mâh has taken the main plot and characters of the story from the romantic mathnavi of Mehr o Mâh composed by Jamâli of Delhi, a poet and mystic of the late 15 th and early 16 th centuries. But he has added additional material of his own and made alterations in the narrative. For example, he has reversed the names of the two main characters, so that, contrary to Jamâli’s poem, here Mehr is male and Mâh female, and the book itself is written in a popular style with many motifs from Persian popular stories mixed in. What is interesting in the tale is the familiarity of the writer with astrological sciences and his choice of planets and stars for the names of the characters in the book, for example: Mehr, Mâh, Otâred, Zohre, Nâhid, Moshtari (Sun, Moon, Mercury, Venus, Jupiter).162 In some of the manuscripts, one can more or less detect features characteristic of Persian prose of the Indian subcontinent. Among other short popular tales with love as their leitmotif is Qesse-ye Nush-âfarin‑e Gowhar-tâj. Manuscripts of the tale are rare but there are several lithographed editions.163 Nush-âfarin Gowhar-tâj is the daughter of the king of Damascus, and many suitors go to Damascus seeking her hand, but Nush-âfarin loves only the Chinese prince Soltân Ebrâhim, and in order to succeed in marrying Nush-âfarin, he defeats all other suitors. This is the same motif that appears in the beginning of Samak‑e ayyâr and Qesse-ye Firuzshâh. Whenever Soltân Ebrâhim and Nush-âfarin try to begin their life of marital bliss, some odd catastrophe occurs and intervenes, and it is these tumultuous events that maintain and drive the reader’s attention to read the story to the end, although he or she 162 Qesse-ye Mehr o Mâh, ed. Mohammad-Hoseyn Eslâm-panâh (Tehran, 2010), editor’s preface, p. 12. 163 Ulrich Marzolph, Narrative Illustration in Persian Lithographed Books, p. 256.

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knows full well that in the end Soltân Ebrâhim and Nush-âfarin will live happily ever after. Of course, in this story Soltân Ebrâhim, like other princes in Persian popular tales, marries several times and Nush-âfarin is not his only spouse. A German translation of this story by Rudolf Gelpke was published in Zurich in 1969. Another romantic story in this category is Qesse-ye Shiruye or Shiruye nâmdâr. This is the story of the younger son of Soltân Malek of Rum who is called Shiruye and promised the succession by his father, thus instigating the bitter envy of his elder brother, Arche, who throws Shiruye down a well, reminiscent of Joseph’s fate at the hands of his brothers in the Bible and the Qur’an. Shiruye is rescued from the well by a merchant and, dressed as a wandering dervish, accompanies him to Yemen, a land hostile to Shiruye’s family. There, he falls in love with Simin Edhâr, the daughter of Mondhar, the king of Yemen, and she with him. The lovers undergo many events and adventures before they are finally united. Shiruye also married Golchehre, the daughter of Khojand, the vizier of the king of Yemen and has a son from her called Jahângir. The son, too, has a romantic adventure of his own and falls in love with a girl called Ghonchedel and they finally marry. In this book, too, there is much sorcery and talk of divs and paris. Shiruye befriends Shâhrokh-Pari, who is a male pari and who assists him against his enemies. The name and the episode of Shâhrokh-Pari is mentioned towards the end of Amir-Arsalân, with some differences.164 Given the fact that Shiruye, like Amir Arsalân, is the son of the King of Rum, Mohammad-Ja’far Mahjub, the editor of Amir Arsalân, is of the opinion that in composing Amir Arsalân, Naqib-al-Mamâlek was more or less inspired and influenced by Qesse-ye Shiruye.165 Finally Shiruye invades Rum with an army and defeats his brother Arche, but he then pardons him and hands over the throne of Rum to him. A story of this same type that is more extensive than Nush Âfarin and Qesse-ye Shiruye is Qesse-ye Vâmeq o Adhrâ by Âqâ Mirzâ 164 Naqib-al-Mamâlek Shirâzi, Amir Arsalân, p. 300. 165 Naqib-al-Mamâlek Shirâzi, Amir Arsalân, editor’s preface, pp. 7–8.

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Ebrâhim Kermâni, who took the nom de plume of Zahir in his poetry. The book adopts a semi-literary language, particularly in the preface, and less of everyday popular diction than the two previously mentioned stories. We do not have any information about the author, but his book is replete with motifs culled from popular tales, and from time to time he imitates the discourse of the naqqâls. There are also many poems scattered throughout the book, and verses from the Qur’an are also quoted in appropriate places. In this story there is no distinction between divs, jinns, and paris. Adhrâ, the daughter of Malek Shahbâl Jenni, the king of Jâbolsâ (an eastern city in legendary Islamic geography), who happens to be a pari, one day goes out with her ladies-in-waiting for a pleasure tour and sees Vâmeq, the grandson of Shah Nâser, the brother of Belqis (Queen of Sheba in the Qur’an), and falls in love with him. In order to make Vâmeq fall in love with Adhrâ as well, her governess uses all her guile and succeeds in gaining an entrance to the palace of the king of Sheba, bearing a picture of Adhrâ. Upon seeing the picture, Vâmeq falls in love with her. On the plain outside the city, Adhrâ, the pari, transforms herself into a gazelle and manages to have Vâmeq follow her. After meeting with Adhrâ and her subsequent disappearance, Vâmeq goes in search of her and in the process encounters dog-headed men, cannibals, and jinns with lasso-like spindly legs (davâl-pâys) and succeeds in killing them all. Vâmeq has a friend of the same age as him, Âsef the Second (Âsef‑e thâni), who is the son of Âsef b. Barkhiyâ, Solomon’s vizier. His friend falls in love with Shekar-dokht, the daughter of the Chinese emperor. A lot of adventures befall them all and they fight with sorcerers, paris, and divs until the two pairs of lovers finally manage to unite in matrimony. Vâmeq and Adhrâ go to the land of Sheba and they have several children. This story is entirely different from that contained in the fragments of the metrical version by the Ghaznavid poet Onsori (d. 1040). There are several stories concerning Vâmeq and Adhrâ in Persian literature that differ from the book by Zahir Kermâni.166 166 Mirzâ Ebrâhim Zahir Kermâni, Vâmeq o Adhrâ, ed. Asad-Allâh Shahriyâri (Mashhad, 1991), editor’s preface, pp. 16–27; see also Hägg and Utas, The Virgin and her Lover for the various versions and pp. 208–11 on Zahir Kermâni.

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Another popular tale whose topic sets it apart from other stories is the relatively brief story of Salim‑e Javâheri (Salim the Jeweller). The events take place at the court of Hajjâj b. Yusof (d. 714), the oppressive ruler of the town of Wâsit in Iraq. Salim‑e Javâheri, a prisoner of his, is taken to his court to recount his life story to Hajjâj, so that Hajjâj’s wish could be fulfilled; for he had desired to have someone relate a story to him which would make him both laugh and cry. Salim‑e Javâheri tells his story: that he is the son of a wealthy jeweller of Wâsit; that after his father’s death, he squanders away his wealth by having a good time until he and his wife are left penurious. He then bids his wife farewell and goes to Syria in search of work. In the town of Tarsus in Syria he encounters the army of Herqel (Heracles) and is incarcerated by the Christians. In a dream the Prophet appears to him and instructs him on how to kill the prison warden and escape. While he is escaping from the clutches of the Christians, he reaches various lands and isles and is involved in many an adventure. While listening to Salim’s story, Hajjâj laughs on several occasions and cries on others. He sets him free and sends him home with a reward. From then on, Salim‑e Javâheri joins the circle of Hajjâj’s friends and pays frequent visits to his court. He dies at the age of 140, and since towards the end of his life his prayers and supplications appeared to have been answered, the people of Wâsit build a shrine and mausoleum for him. His story bears similarities with that of Sinbad the Sailor in One Thousand and One Nights. It is possible that the story of Salim is the work of a preacher. In different stages of the story, Salim seeks God’s assistance when faced with calamities and is ever hopeful of God’s bounty and the Prophet’s assistance through his dreams. Thus, in an oblique fashion, the audience is encouraged to place his/her faith and trust in God and His Prophet. It is interesting to note that as well as several versions and manuscripts, a version of Salim‑e Javâheri is embedded in the Turkish story of Qesse-ye Sayyed Joneyd.167 The ending of the Turkish story differs from the others. Both of these have been edited and published by Mohammad Ja’fari-Qanavâti (Tehran, 2007). 167 Tarsusi, Abu-Moslem-nâme, I, footnote, p. 356.

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Another short popular tale in which, as in Salim‑e Javâheri, the eponymous hero relates his own life story is Qesse-ye Ashraf Khân va sargozasht‑e se darvish (Story of Ashraf Khan and Three Dervishes), more commonly known by the title of Chahâr darvish (Four Dervishes). Soltân Ashraf Khan, the ruler of Khorasan, encounters three dervishes from the Qalandariyye order. Each of the three dervishes declaims a single line of Persian poetry in a loud voice. When Ashraf Khan asks the reason for this, each dervish recounts his own life story, which involves a romantic episode. At the end, Ashraf Khan, too, relates his own life story. This slim volume has been printed several times in Iran, and it has also been published under its original title, Ashraf Khân va sargozasht‑e se darvish, edited by Mohammad Dâmâdi (Tehran, 1990). Chahâr darvish is also the title of a Persian story well-known in the Indian subcontinent, written in the 18th century and wrongly attributed to the famous poet Amir Khosrow Dehlavi (d. 1325). This story concerns the Sultan of Rum, who is called Âzâd-bakht, and his son Bakhtiyâr, and their dealings with four dervishes.168 There are several versions of this story but they are different from the popular story of the four dervishes (Qesse-ye chahâr darvish). One of the leitmotifs of the shorter popular stories that is rarely seen in the long naqqâli stories is the topic of “the wiles of women” (makr‑e zanân), which depicts women as guileful beings and expounds on their deceitfulness, including the way they succeed in cheating on their husbands through cunning stratagems.169 The Persian literary texts containing a greater proportion of anecdotes and stories about wiles of women, such as Sendbâd-nâme (Book of Sendbâd), Bakhtiyâr-nâme (Book of Bakhtiyâr), and Tuti-nâme (Book of the Parrot), have an Indian pedigree and it seems that the topos of “the wiles of women” has entered Persian storytelling through the literature and culture of ancient India.

168 Ahmad Monzavi, Fehrestvâre-ye ketâbhâ-ye Fârsi (12 vols., Tehran, 1994– 2007), I, pp. 311–12. 169 On “the wiles of women,” see Margaret Mills, “Whose Best Tricks? Makr-i Zan as a Topos in Persian Oral Literature,” IrSt 32/2 (1999), pp. 261–70.

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One of the short Persian popular stories which is entirely on the wiles of women is the story of Dalile-ye Mohtâle, which is also cited in the form of Dalle-ye Mohtâle, and Dalle-ye Mokhtâr. This story of Dalile Mohtâle, accompanied by her daughter Zeynab, and their many cunning stratagems together with ayyârs from Baghdad including Ahmad Danaf and Hasan Shumân, and the fight between an Egyptian ayyâr, Ali Zeybaq, with the mother and daughter, and finally the marriage of Zeynab and Ali Zeybaq, are included in One Thousand and One Nights.170 In previous centuries, “Dalle” or “Dalile” was used as a symbol of deceit and guile in Persian literature and culture, as for example, alluded to in a verse in the divân of the poet Zahir of Faryâb (d. 1202).171 Another verse, in the Divân of Farrokhi of Sistan (d. 1038), suggests the existence of a book in the 10 th and 11 th centuries devoted to the cunning ruses of Dalle or Dalile,172 apparently distinct from what could be found in the One Thousand and One Nights. The story of Dalile Mohtâle, which was issued in a lithographed edition as Dalle-ye Mokhtâr,173 contains many tales of this woman’s guile and trickery as an ayyâr and thief and differs widely from her story as set out in One Thousand and One Nights. Qesse-ye Dalle Mohtâle or Dalile Mohtâle is set in Baghdad during the caliphate of Hârun-al-Rashid, the Abbasid (r. 786–809). Dalile and her daughters and sons-in-law are all thieves and ayyârs. This may be perhaps the only popular Persian story in which the characters are shown in a negative light and are not condoned in their conduct by the author. In her lust for gold, Dalile deceives even Hârun-al-Rashid’s daughter and wife and succeeds in making the caliph’s daughter and a moneylender’s son fall in love. Dalile manages to deceive the moneylender and extracts gold from him, and does the same with a Jew. She also dupes the poet Abu-Nowâs (d. 814) and makes him fall in love with a girl. 170 Ketâb alf layle va layle, ed. Roshdi Sâleh (2 vols., Cairo, 1969), II, pp. 1051–1094. 171 Zahir-al-Din Fâryâbi, Divân, ed. Amir Hasan Yazdgerdi, revised by Asghar Dâdbeh (Tehran, 2001), p. 255, verse 10. 172 Farrokhi Sistâni, Divân, ed. Mohammad Dabirsiyâqi (Tehran, 1957) p. 350, line 7045. 173 Ulrich Marzolph, Narrative Illustration, p. 238.

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A manuscript of an anthology, Safine-ye bahr al-mohit (Majles Library, Tehran, no. 14215), which was written down in Aurangabad in 1740, contains the Qesse-ye Dalile Mohtâle with seventeen accounts and episodes of Dalle’s or Dalile’s machinations. She and her family, who are all cunning thieves, finally escape the clutches of Hârun-al-Rashid and flee from Baghdad to Basra where they all die in a fire. The writer refers to them as malâ’in, the accursed ones. Chehel tuti (Forty Parrots) is another famous popular tale dealing with the topic of the wiles of women. This small book is an abridged and popularized version of the classical Persian Ketâb‑e tuti-nâme, which exists in several versions174 and the origins of which can be traced to India. In Chehel tuti, a merchant who had been reluctant to marry finally chooses a wife and buys her a pair of parrots to amuse and entertain her. One day, when the merchant is about to go on a voyage, he instructs the parrots to remain alert to ensure that the wife behaves herself. By chance the prince of that town catches sight of the merchant’s wife and falls in love with her. He asks an old crone to bring about their marriage. With the merchant away on his trip, the crone seizes the opportunity and goes to the merchant’s home and describes the prince to the merchant’s wife in glowing terms. In the evening the wife decides to go to the prince, but the male parrot chastises her. She is enraged by this and kills the male parrot. The female parrot entertains the wife with her words and tells her a story until late into the night, and the wife decides to postpone her visit to the prince to the next day. But every night when the wife decides to set out to see the prince, the parrot embarks on another story and manages to occupy her attention until again it becomes too late for a visit which is deferred to the next day. This episode is repeated every night until finally the merchant returns from his journey and realizes that his wife had intended to deceive him. He kills the old duenna who had led his wife astray and punishes his wife and divorces her 174 Monzavi, Fehrestvâre-ye ketâbhâ-ye fârsi, I, pp. 437–40. See also Ziyâal-Din Nakhshabi, Tuti-nâme, ed. Fath-Allâh Mojtabâ’i and Gholâm-Ali Âryâ (Tehran, 1991).

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and expresses much gratitude towards the parrot. The round figure of forty, chehel, is introduced to convey a sense of multitude. In fact, the number of the stories in the book does not add up to more than ten to fifteen. Some of the stories are well-known popular tales such as the story of morgh‑e sa’âdat, the bird of happiness, or morgh‑e tokhm‑e talâ, the bird of the golden egg, in which eating parts of the bird would induce felicity and good fortune. Indeed, two brothers, Sa’d and Sa’id, do eat a part and attain happiness and good fortune. A musical film was based on this story, scripted by Parviz Khatibi and directed by Mehdi Ra’is-Firuz (1972). Another familiar story is that of a princess who tests her suitors by posing riddles to them and is the dominant theme of a popular story in Persian, that of Haft seyr‑e Hâtem. Here Hâtem Tâ’i, the legendary generous patron in the Jâhili era, encounters a prince who is a suitor to the princess, who has insisted on marrying only the person who can solve her riddles. In order to enable the prince to marry the princess, Hâtem undertakes seven voyages of discovery to decipher the riddles. In another version of the same story, it is Hâtem himself who is a suitor and who marries the princess after his journeys. The latter version is entitled Haft ensâf‑e Hâtem. Both versions have been published in two volumes under the general title of Hâtem-nâme, edited by Hoseyn Esmâ’ili (Tehran, 2006).

5. Maqtal Books and Stories Related to Karbala Any study of popular stories and tales in Persian would be incomplete without some reference to the narrative genre of maqtal. Maqtal is the title given to books that attempt, on the basis of historical accounts, to describe in vivid and precise detail the events that occurred at Karbala and the manner of the martyrdom of the third Imam of the Shi’ites, Hoseyn b. Ali, at the hands of the followers of Yazid b. Mo’aviye (r. 680–83).175 175 Ebn-al-Nadim, Fehrest, I/2, p. 292.

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The professional religious eulogisers (manâqeb-khwânân or maddâhân) who were a branch of the fotovvat order, would, at times in their public performances, recite some verses about Karbala’s tragic events.176 As mentioned earlier, Mowlânâ Hoseyn Vâ’ez Kâshefi’s Rowzat al shohadâ (Garden of the Martyrs) deals with this subject thoroughly. From the Safavid Period onwards, e. recital of manâqeb-khwâni, maddâhi, and rowze-khwâni (i.  Rowzat al-shohadâ) became popular and fused together. During the Qajar period (1779–1925), reciting stories about the Karbala martyrs became very popular, so much so that the reciters tried to stir up feelings of the audience in order to make them cry. According to Ebn-al-Jowzi (d. 1201), in the 12 th century, preachers were in the habit of making their audience, particularly the women, weep as they listened to their elegiac recitations about mortality and those who had passed away.177 It should of course be borne in mind that most of the preachers who addressed the public from pulpits of mosques or Sufi hospices before the 16th century in Iran were Sunnis. After the advent of the Safavid dynasty, this old tradition of preachers inducing their audience, and particularly the women amongst them, to weep was fused together with the recital of the tragic events at Karbala and stories about the twelve Shi’i Imams by the Shi’i religious eulogisers. There were even books written which usually had the Ara­bic word bokâ’ (weeping) in their titles, and in this section, two of these will be mentioned; although they belong to the literary genre of maqtal, both have popular myths and stories embedded in them. These stories, in spite of their popularity, have rarely survived in a written form. The first is one of the best known maqtal books in Persian, Tufân al-bokâ’, written by Mohammad Ebrâhim Jowhari, an elegiac poet of the 19 th century. The book was completed in 1834 and is a mélange of the prose of manâqeb-khwâns with poems, mostly in a mournful dirge-like mode. It is also replete with short religious stories, including the story of the wedding of Qoreysh. This 176 As an example, verses from the celebrated 14 th-century manâqeb-khwân in Hasan Kâshi, Divân, ed. Sayyed Abbâs Rastâkhiz (Tehran, 2009), pp. 74–75. 177 Abu’l-Faraj Ebn-al-Jowzi, Talbis Eblis, ed. al-Seyyid al-Jamili (Beirut, 1989), p. 152.

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is still performed in some towns in Iran, including Tehran, in all-female gatherings called mowludi, on the occasion of the birth of the Prophet or one of the Shi’i Imams. The story is as follows: The women of the Qoreysh (who had not at this stage converted to Islam) try to embarrass Fâteme, the daughter of the Prophet, by inviting her to a wedding ceremony, knowing full well that she lives in poverty and does not own expensive clothes. When Fâteme Zahrâ enters their wedding gathering, she appears clothed by angels sent by God, in garments and adornments from paradise. When they see her, some of the women leave the banquet out of envy or shame and some convert to Islam.178 The other book, Tariq al-bokâ’ (The Way of Weeping), was written by Mohammad Hoseyn Shahrâbi, with the pen-name of Geryân (the Lachrymist), in the reign of Nâser-al-Din Shah. The book is divided into sixty “sessions” to correspond to the number of days in the two months of mourning for the Shi’is (the months of Moharram and Safar). In his book, too, poetry is mixed with prose, in the manner of manâqeb-khwâns. Its tone is more popular than that of Tufân al-bokâ’ (Deluge of Weeping), and it is full of religious stories and popular tales. In each of the sixty sessions a single story is told, and at the end, the story is linked to the events at Karbala and an episode from the Karbala narrative is described. One of the celebrated popular stories told in Tariq al-bokâ’ is the tale of javânmard‑e qassâb (the chivalrous butcher). 179 The story concerns a Shi’i butcher who, although passionately devoted to Imam Ali, had never set eyes on him until one day, in the course of an argument over selling meat to a slave girl, Ali intervenes and pleads on behalf of the girl. Unaware of Ali’s true identity, the butcher treats him harshly, but when he realizes that it was Ali whom he had mistreated, he cleaves his own arm asunder to punish himself. However, the Imam manages miraculously to stick the arm back in place again.180 178 Mohammad Ebrâhim Jowhari, Kolliyyât‑e Ketâb‑e tufân al-bokâ’ (Tehran, 1986), pp. 40–43. 179 On javânmard‑e qassâb, see Afshâri, Tâze be tâze, now be now, pp. 127–33. 180 Mohammad-Hoseyn Shahrâbi (Geryân), Tariq al-bokâ’ (lithograph ed., Tehran, n. d.), pp. 75–88.

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Another famous story in the book is that of Darvish‑e Kâboli (the dervish from Kabul). Just before Imam Hoseyn’s martyrdom at Karbala, the dervish carries some water for the Imam in the Karbala desert in his kashkul (traditional boat-shaped bowl). But the Imam tells him that he has himself opted for the fate to die thirsty as a martyr.181 The ordinary public in Iran were entertained by these stories and, at the same time, believed in their credibility. An overall review of popular stories in Persian literature shows that they were always affected by Islamic culture and lore, with the religious coloring varying in degree from story to story, deeper in some, and paler in others; but from the time of the Safavids onwards, the Shi’i coloring became increasingly visible in popular stories. The storytellers and orators from the pulpit, as well as transmitting stories, were, in a way, proselytizers for the Shi’i faith among the masses. The lore and beliefs of the common people were mixed with their stories and instructions. What is noteworthy is that the Shi’ite beliefs of the above group of people were of the kind held by the fotovvat and qalandariyye communities and orders, and therefore more or less tinged with the ideas of the gholât (extremists) of the Shi’is and hence radically different from the beliefs held by the ‘orthodox’ Twelver Shi’i scholars.

Bibliography Afshâri, Mehrân. Âyin‑e javânmardi, marâm va soluk‑e ṭabaqe-ye ʿ âmme-ye Iran. Tehran, 2005. ­—. “Ferqe-ye ʿAjam va sokhanvari.” In idem, Tâze be tâze, now be now, Tehran, 2006, pp. 111–185. ­—. “Haft Lashkar yâ Shâh-nâme-ye naqqâlân,” in Farhang 7 (1990), pp. 475–90. ­—. “Pari dar farhang va adabiyyât‑e Iran.” In idem, Tâze be tâze, now be now, Tehran, 2006, pp. 47–61. ­—. Tâze be tâze, now be now: majmuʿe-ye maqalehâ dar bareh-ye asâṭir, farhang‑e mardom, va adabiyyat‑e ʿammiyâne-ye Iran. Tehran, 2006. 181 Shahrâbi (Geryân), Tariq al-bokâ’, pp. 325–36.

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Stories and Tales: Entertainment as Literature Afshâri, Mehrân, ed. Fotovvat-nâme-hâ va rasâʾel‑e khâksâriye (si resâle). Tehran, 2003. Afshâri, Mehrân and Mehdi Madâyeni, eds. Chahârdah resâle dar bâb‑e fotovvat va aṣnâf. Tehran, 2002. Albright, Charlotte C. “ʿĀšeq.” In EIr, II, pp. 741–42. Alf Leyla va Leyla. Ed. Roshdi Ṣâleḥ. 2 vols. Cairo, 1969. Arrajâni, Farâmarz b. Khodâdâd. Samak‑e ʿayyâr. Ed. Parviz Nâtel-Khânlari. 4 vols. Repr. Tehran, 2006. Bahâr, Mehrdâd. Jostâri chand dar farhang‑e Iran. Tehran, 1994. Bahâr, Moḥammad-Taqi. Sabk-shenâsi. 3 vols. Tehran, 1990–91. Balaÿ, Christophe. La genèse du roman persan moderne. Paris, 1998. Tr. Mahvash Qavimi and Nasrin Khaṭṭâṭ as Peydâyesh‑e român‑e Fârsi. Tehran, 1998. Bighami, Moḥammad. Dârâb-nâme. Ed. Dhabih-Allâh Ṣafâ. 2 vols. Tehran, 2002. Boyce, Mary. “The Parthian gōsān and Iranian Minstrel Tradition.” JRAS (1957), pp. 9–45. Chelkowski, Peter. “Kashefi’s Rowżat al-shohadâ: The Karbala Narrative as Underpinning of Popular and Religious Culture and Literature.” In Ph. G. Kreyenbrook and U. Marlzoph, eds., Oral Literature of Iranian Languages: Kurdish, Pashto, Balochi, Ossetic, Persian and Tajik, HPL Vol. XVIII Companion Vol. II, London, 2010, pp. 261–77. Chowdari, Shâhed. “Taʾsir va nofudh‑e Shâh-nâme dar adabiyyât‑e Panjâbi.” Farhang 7 (1990), pp. 415–28. Dehkhodâ, ʿAli-Akbar. Loghatnâme-ye Dehkhodâ. 50 vols. Tehran, 1946–74. Dhu’l-Faqâri, Ḥasan and Maḥbube Ḥeydari, eds. Adabiyyât-e maktabkhâne-i-ye Irân. 3 vols. Tehran, 2012. Ebn-al-Jowzi, Abu’l-Faraj. Talbis Eblis. Ed. al-Sayyed al-Jamili. Beirut, 1989. Ebn-al-Nadim, Abu’l-Faraj Moḥammad. Ketâb al-fehrest. Ed. Ayman Foʾâd Sayyed. 4 vols. London, 2009. Ebn-Ḥosâm Khusfi, Moḥammad. Khâvar-nâme. Lithograph ed. Tehran, 1864–65. Elâhi, Ṣadr-al-Din. “Pas az khwândan‑e ketâbi dar bâre-ye ḥamâse-ye dini-ye ʿâmmiyâne: Moṣayyeb-nâme.” Irân-shenâsi 1 (1993), pp. 130–43. Eskandar-nâme: revâyat-e Fârsi az Kalistenes-e Dorughin pardâkhte miyân-e qorun-e sheshom va hashtom. Ed. Iraj Afshâr. 2nd ed. Tehran, 2008. Ethé, Carl Hermann. Catalogue of Persian Manuscripts in the Library of the India Office. 2 vols. Oxford, 1903.

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PERSIAN PROSE ­—. “Neupersische Literatur.” Tr. Ṣâdeq Reżâzâde Shafaq as Târikh‑e adabiyyât‑e Fârsi. Tehran, 1972. Fakhr-al-Zamâni Qazvini, ʿAbd-al-Nabi. Tadhkere-ye Meykhâne. Ed. Aḥmad Golchin-Maʿâni. Tehran, 1961. Farrokhi Sistâni, ʿAli b. Julugh. Divân. Ed. Moḥammad Dabirsiyâqi. Tehran, 1957. Fâryâbi, Zahir-al-Din. Divân. Ed. Amir-Ḥasan Yazdgerdi and Asghar Dâdbeh. Tehran, 2008. Firuzshâh-nâme: donbâle-ye Dârâb-nâme bar asâse ravâyat‑e Moḥammad‑e Bighami. Eds. Iraq Afshâr and Mehrân Afshâri. Tehran, 2009. Foruzânfar, Badiʿ-al-Zamân. Sharḥ‑e Mathnavi-ye sharif. 3 vols. Tehran, 1982. Gaillard, Marina. Le livre de Samak-e ʿAyyâr: structure et idéologie du roman persan médiéval. Paris, 1987. Gaillard, Marina, tr. Alexandre le grand en Iran: Le ‘Dârâb Nâmeh’ d’Abu Tâher Tarsusi. Paris, 2005. Hâʾeri, ʿAbd-al-Ḥoseyn, Fehrest‑e ketâb-khâne-ye Majles‑e shorâ-ye melli. Tehran, 1973. Haft lashkar (Ṭumâr‑e jâme‛‑e naqqâlân). Eds. Mehrân Afshâri and Mehdi Madâyeni. Tehran, 1998 (edition based on the unicum MS of 1875 kept at the Majles Library in Tehran). Hägg, Tomas and Bo Utas. The Virgin and Her Lover: Fragments from an Ancient Greek Novel and a Persian Epic Poem. Leiden, 2003. Hanaway, Jr., William L. “Formal Elements in the Persian Popular Romance.” Review of National Literature 2 (1977), pp. 139–60. Irânshâh b. Abi’l-Kheyr. Bahman-nâme. Ed. Raḥim ʿAfifi. Tehran, 1991. Jamâlzâde, Moḥammad-ʿAli. Farhang‑e loghât‑e ʿ âmmiyâne. Tehran, 1962. Jâḥez, Abu ‛Othmân. Ketâb al-bayân va’l-tabyin. Ed. ʿAbd-al-Salâm Moḥammad Hârun. 4 vols. Beirut, 1948. Jowhari, Moḥammad Ebrâhim. Kolliyyât‑e Ketâb‑e ṭufân al-bokâ. Tehran, 1986. Kâshefi Sabzavâri, Ḥoseyn Vâʿeẓ. Fotovvat-nâme-ye solṭâni. Ed. Moḥammad-Ja’far Maḥjub. Tehran, 1971. Kermâni, Mirzâ Ebrâhim Ẓahir. Vâmeq o ʿAdhrâ. Ed. Asad-Allâh Shahriyâri. Mashhad, 1991. Ketâb‑e Ḥoseyn‑e Kord‑e Shabestari al-mosammâ be Yatim-nâme. Tehran, 1960 (lithographed). Lyons, M. C. The Arabian Epic: Heroic and Oral Storytelling. 3 vols. Cambridge, 1995.

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Stories and Tales: Entertainment as Literature Maḥjub, Moḥammad-Ja‛far. Adabiyyât‑e ʿ âmmiyâne-ye Iran. Ed. Ḥasan Dhu’l-Faqâri. 2 vols. in 1. Tehran, 2003. Marʿashi, Seyyed Ẓahir-al-Din. Târikh‑e Tabarestân va Ruyân va Mâzandarân. Ed. Bernhard Dorn. Petersburg, 1849–50. Marzolph, Ulrich. Narrative Illustration in Persian Lithographed Books. London, 2001. ­—. “A Treasury of Formular Narrative: The Persian Popular Romance Hosein‑e Kord.” Oral Tradition 14 (1999), pp. 279–303. Mélikoff, Irène. Abu-Muslim : le ‘porte-Hache’ du Khorassan dans la tradition épique turco-iranienne. Paris, 1962. Mills, Margaret. “Whose Best Tricks? Makr-i Zan as a Topos in Persian Oral Literature.” IrSt 32/2 (1999), pp. 267–70. Mir-Ṣâdeqi, Jamâl. Adabiyyât‑e dâstâni. Tehran, 2007. Moʿayyer-al-Mamâlek, Dust-ʿAli. “Rejâl‑e ʿahd‑e Nâṣeri.” Yaghmâ 12 (1955–56), pp. 554–56. Moḥammad b. Monavvar. Asrâr al-towḥid fi maqâmât Sheykh Abi Sa‛id. Ed. Moḥammad-Reẓâ Shafiʿi Kadkani. 2 vols. Tehran, 1992–93. Monzavi, Aḥmad. Fehrestvâre-ye ketâb-hâ-ye Fârsi. 12 vols. Tehran, 1994–2007. Nakhshabi, Żiyâ’-al-Din. Tuti-nâme. Ed. Fatḥ-Allâh Mojtabâʾi and Gholâm-ʿAli Âryâ. Tehran, 1991. Naqib-al-Mamâlek Shirâzi, Moḥammad-ʿAli. Amir Arsalân. Ed. Mohammad-Ja‛far Maḥjub. Tehran, 1970. Nâtel-Khânlari, Parviz. Shahr‑e Samak. Tehran, 2006. Nowshâhi, ʿÂref. Fehrest‑e ketabhây‑e fârsi-ye châpi be zabânhây‑e Pâkestâni. Islamabad, 1985–86. Omidsâlâr, Maḥmud. Si o do maqâle dar naqd va taṣḥiḥ‑e motun‑e adabi. Tehran, 2010. Qazvini, Moḥammad. Yaddâshthâ-ye Qazvini. Ed. Iraj Afshâr, 10 vols. in 5. Tehran, 1984. Qazvini Râzi, ʿAbd-al-Jalil, Ketāb al-naqż maʿruf be Baʿż mathâleb alnavâṣeb fi naqż fażâ’eh al-ravâfeż. Ed. Jalâl-al-Din Moḥaddeth Ormavi. 2nd ed. Tehran, 1980. Qeṣṣat Firuzshâh b. Malek Dhârâb. Beirut, n. d. Qeṣṣe-khwân, Shâhnaẓar. Zobdat al-romuz. MS Majles Library, Tehran, no. 13855. Qeṣṣe-ye Ḥamze: Ḥamze-nâme. Ed. Jaʿfar Sheʿâr. 2 vols. Tehran, 1968. Qeṣṣe-ye Ḥoseyn‑e Kord‑e Shabestari bar asâs‑e ravâyat‑e nâshenâkhte mowsum be Ḥoseyn-nâme. Eds. Iraj Afshâr and Mehrân Afshâri. Tehran, 2006–7.

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PERSIAN PROSE Qeṣṣe-ye Mehr o Mâh. Ed. Moḥammad-Ḥoseyn Eslâmpanâh. Tehran, 2010. Rabiʿ. ʿAli-nâme: manẓumeʾ i kohan. Introd. by Moḥammad-Reżâ Shafiʿi-Kadkani and Maḥmud Omidsâlâr. Tehran, 2009 (facsimile ed.). Rieu, Charles. Catalogue of Manuscripts in the British Museum. 3 vols. London, 1879–83. Riyâḥi, Moḥammad Amin. Golgasht dar she‛r va andishe-ye Ḥâfeẓ. Tehran, 1989–90. Sabâ, Moḥammad Yusof-‘Ali. Tadhkere-ye Ruz‑e rowshan. Ed. Moḥammad-Ḥoseyn Roknzâde Âdamiyyat. Tehran, 1964–65. Sachau, Eduard. Catalogue of the Persian, Turkish, Hindustani and Pashtu Manuscripts in the Bodleian Library. 2 vols. Oxford, 1889. Shafiʿi-Kadkani, Moḥammad-Reżâ. “Oṣul‑e honar‑e qesse-guyi dar adab‑e Fârsi.” In Parviz Rajabim, ed., Arj-nâme-ye Shahriyâri, Tehran, 2001, pp. 351–60. Shahrâbi, Moḥammad Ḥoseyn (Geryân). Ṭariq al-bokâ’. Tehran, n. d. (lithographed). Stanfield Johnson, Rosemary. “The Hyderabad Connection in the Hoseyn‑e Kord.” Deccan Studies 2/22 (2004), pp. 13–85. Ṭarsusi, Abu Ṭâher. Abu-Moslem-nâme. Ed. Ḥoseyn Esmâ‛ili. 4 vols. Tehran, 2001. ­—. Dârâb-nâme-ye Ṭarsusi. Ed. Dhabih-Allâh Ṣafâ. 2 vols. Tehran, 1965–68. Vâʿeẓ Heravi, ʿAṭâ-Allâh b. Ḥosâm. Kolliyyât‑e haft jeldi-ye Ketâb‑e Mokhtâr-nâme. Tehran, n. d. Vâṣefi, Zeyn-al-Din. Badâyeʿ al-vaqâyeʿ. Ed. Alexandr Boldyrev. 2 vols. Tehran, 1970–71. Vahman, Fereydun. “Mâjarâ-ye Ḥamze-nâme.” In Ḥabib Yaghmâyi and Iraj Afshâr, eds., Nâme-ye Minovi, Tehran, 1971–72, pp. 467–79. Wood, Barry, ed. and tr. The Adventures of Shāh Esmāʿ il: A Seventeenth Century Popular Romance. Leiden and Boston, 2018. Yamamoto, Kumiko. “Naqqâli: Professional Iranian Storytelling.” In Ph. G. Kreyenbroek and U. Marzolph, eds., Oral Literature of Iranian Languages: Kurdish, Pashto, Balochi, Ossetic, Persian and Tajik, HPL XVIII Companion Vol. II (London, 2010), pp. 240–57. Yusofi, Gholâm-Ḥoseyn. Abu Moslem: sardâr‑e Khorâsân. Tehran, 1977. ­—. Didâr bâ ahl‑e qalam: dar-bare-ye bist ketâb nashr-e Fârsi. 2 vols. Mashhad, 1978–79. Zarrinkub, ʿAbd-al-Ḥoseyn. Az gozashte-ye adabi-ye Irân. Tehran, 2006.

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CHAPTER 9 POPULAR ANECDOTES AND SATIRE Mehran Afshari1 Persian literature is not confined to written works in prose and verse. This literature, when addressed to the general public, a majority of whom were often illiterate, appears in oral form. Entertainment for Persian speakers was not restricted to wandering street entertainers (ma’rake-girân) and the professional narrators (naqqâlân) of coffee-houses; it also included the short didactic and religious stories and tales told by Muslim preachers from the pulpits (menbars) of mosques, or in Sufi gatherings at monasteries (khânaqâhs), or at local assembly centers (tekiyes). The preachers, whose task was to encourage adherence to religious laws and Islamic morality, often narrated short tales (hekâyât) as part of their religious sermons.

1. Preachers and their Relations with Persian Tales and the Variety of Tales Preachers, fittingly for their profession, knew a large number of tales by heart, so that they could narrate them within their sermons as the occasion arose. In a session which was usually about an hour long, the preacher could retell several of these short stories (hekâyât). These preaching sessions were not only limited to Iran and other Persian speaking regions but were common all over the Islamic world. Their roots go back to the first Islamic community 1

I would like to express my deep gratitude to Dr. Parvin Loloi for her meticulous translation of this chapter from the original Persian.

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established in the Hejaz (in the north-western region of the present-day Saudi Arabia). Abu’l-Faraj Abd-al-Rahmân Ebn-al-Jowzi (d. 1201) was a well-known preacher. In his book entitled al-Qossâs va’l-modhakkerin (Stories of Those who Remind us of God), written in Ara­bic, he tells us that preaching and narrating of stories was not customary during the Prophet’s lifetime or that of the first caliph, Abu Bakr (d. 634). It is believed that Tamim Dâri (d. 660), a Christian Palestinian who converted to Islam and was a companion of the Prophet, was the first to preach and tell stories standing up, after acquiring permission to do so from the second caliph, Omar (killed 644). It is also believed that during the reign of the third caliph, Othmân (killed 656), storytelling within preaching became common practice.2 However, there is as yet no concrete proof as to how this custom was established. Ebn-al-Jowzi tells us that during his life time no distinction was made between the qâss (qesse-gu, story-teller), the modhakker (one who recalls God’s blessings), and the vâ’ez (one who preaches against sinful deeds and gives warnings of the torments of Judgment Day).3 It is evident that the early Arab Moslems used the name qâss (qesse-gu, story-teller) for preachers. In the Ara­bic language, the word qesse is used for hekâyat (short tale). Jâhez (d. 869) also calls this group qossâs (qesse-guyân, story-tellers), and recounts the names of the famous vâ’ezân (preachers) or qossâs.4 The vâ’ez’s duties were to instruct and educate the general public,5 and therefore, the stories which have survived are of a didactic and moralistic nature. Ebn-al-Jowzi is very critical of the preachers of his own time because they wandered from town to town in order to preach and collect money in different places.6 The preachers were accused of inventing apocryphal Hadith (sayings of the Prophet) in these 2

Abu’l-Faraj Ebn-al-Jowzi, Ketâb al-qossâs va’l-modhakkerin, ed. Merlin L. Swartz (Beirut, 1971), pp. 22–23. 3 Ebn-al-Jowzi, Ketâb al-qossâs, pp. 9–11. 4 Abu Othmân Omar b. Bahr Jâhez, al-Bayân va’l-tabyin, ed. Abd-al-Salâm Mohammad Hârun (4 vols., Beirut, 1948), I, pp. 367–69. 5 Ebn-al-Jowzi, Ketâb al-qossâs, p. 144. 6 Ebn-al-Jowzi, Ketâb al-qossâs, pp. 121–22.

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sessions and narrating false stories to the general public.7 This last statement is comparable to Râgheb Esfahâni’s (d. 1109) accounts of the ridiculous stories that these preachers quoted.8 A valuable book in Persian has survived from the 13th century, as written by a vâ’ez with an inclination towards Sufism. Mohammad b. Hasan b. Fazl b. Hoseyn Vâ’ez, known as Jamâl Ostâji, preached during 1228–29 in Bukhara.9 This book is a good source of information about the nature of such preaching sessions and about the stories that he preached to the people of Bukhara. The various stories that Ostâji narrates for his audience include some stories about the Israelite prophets, such as the story of Moses10 or Joseph11; others concern “the friends of God” (owliyâ-ye Khodâ) and Sufis, such as Râbe’e and Hasan of Basra,12 Abu-Torâb Nakhshabi,13 and Abu’l-Hoseyn Nuri.14 Yet others are about rulers and kings, such as the story of the third amir of the Taherid dynasty, Abd-Allâh b. Tâher15 (r. 828–45). Some of Ostâji’s stories are called latife (amusing anecdotes) that, while pleasant to listen to, are also instructive as well as being humorous.16 When we compare Ostâji’s tales with those in other Persian story books such as Owfi’s Javâme’ al-hekâyât (Compendium of Stories), we recognize similarities in the kinds of entertaining stories being told. Simplified versions of most of the Persian tales which deal with the Israelite prophets have been cast in the form of myths and fables. They are also found in the Fotovvat-nâme-hâ (Books on Acts of Chivalry), which, were, apparently narrated by   7 Ebn-al-Jowzi, Ketâb al-qossâs, pp. 97–104.   8 Abu’l-Qâsem Hoseyn b. Mohammad Râgheb Esfahâni, Mohâzarât alodabâ’ va mohâvarât al-sho’arâ’ va’l-bolaghâ’, ed. Riyâz Abd-al-Hamid Morâd (5 vols., Beirut, 2006), I, pp. 274–75.   9 Mohammad b. Hasan Jamâl Ostâji, al-Majâles va’l-mavâ’ez, ed. Farzâd Moravveji (MA thesis, University of Tehran, 2011), p. 1. 10 Ostâji, al-Majâles va’l-mavâ’ez, p. 10 11 Ostâji, al-Majâles va’l-mavâ’ez, pp. 30–35. 12 Ostâji, al-Majâles va’l-mavâ’ez, pp. 7–8. 13 Ostâji, al-Majâles va’l-mavâ’ez, pp. 52. 14 Ostâji, al-Majâles va’l-mavâ’ez, pp. 24–25. 15 Ostâji, al-Majâles va’l-mavâ’ez, pp. 27–28. 16 Ostâji, al-Majâles va’l-mavâ’ez, pp. 22 and 41–42.

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traders for their colleagues in private gatherings in shops in the bazaars and in the privacy of their own homes.17 Some other tales were about the prophet and his companions, or about ascetics and holy-men and Sufis; yet another group dealt with kings and rulers. Some of these stories were about the ancient Greek philosophers and physicians such as Aristotle, Hippocrates, and Socrates, or were about sages such as Loqmân whose life is recounted in Sura 31 of the Qur’an. Stories told about him are more or less comparable to the fables of Aesop. There are also many stories about the pre-Islamic Arab poet, Hâtem b. Abd-Allâh b. Sa’d, known as Hâtem Tâ’i, whose boundless generosity is proverbial in the Islamic world. He is believed to have died in the early years of the Prophet’s life. Some of the stories that Ostâji describes as latife, anecdotes that are humorous with a moral lesson attached to them, are, in fact, about oqalâ’ al-majânin: This group of frenzied ascetics, who are specifically described as majdhub (ecstatic) in Sufi books, were in the eyes the ordinary people regarded as madmen or majnun.18 The most famous of these in Persian tales is the Shi’ite Bohlul, whose real name was Abu Voheyb Bohlul b. Amr Seyrafi; he was apparently from Kufa and lived during the 8th century. His death, in some sources, is said to have occurred between 799 and 812.19 Some of the characters in Persian stories are famous for their naivety. These tales, unlike the latife, do not convey any philosophical, moralistic, or mystical points; they are merely told in order to ridicule and to create laughter and amusement while making the occasional social criticism. These tales are called tanz (satire) or hazl (facetiae/burlesque). Apparently the first of the storytellers of such tales was Abu’l-Ghosn Dojeyn Ebn-Thâbet, known as Johâ or Jowhi from Basra or Kufa. It is said that Abu-Moslem Khorâsâni 17 Sabâh Ibrahim Sa’id al-Sheykhli, al-Asnâf fi’l-asr al-abbâsi: nash’atohâ va tatavvorohâ (Baghdad, 1976), pp. 135–36. (For further information see Mehrân Afshâri and Mehdi Medâ’eni, eds., Chahârdah resâle dar bâb-e fotovvat va asnâf (Tehran, 2002). 18 Mehrân Afshâri, Neshân-e ahl-e Khodâ (Tehran, 1987), pp. 52–54. 19 Ulrich Marzolph, Der weise Narr Bohlūl (Wiesbaden, 1983), tr., ed., and expanded with introd. by Bâqer Qorbâni Zarrin as Bohlul-nâme (Tehran, 2009)—the most comprehensive book written about Bohlul.

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(d. 755) visited Johâ, which means that he must have been alive in the 8th century.20 Ebn-al-Nadim (d. 988 or 990), in his al-Fehrest (catalogue of books in Ara­bic), cites Johâ’s book Navâder Johâ (Johâ’s Rare Stories) which contains wondrous stories.21 Another comic character, who is mentioned in the poetry of Manuchehri of Dâmghân (d. 1040), is Bu-Bakr (Abu Bakr) Rabâbi,22 who was a musician and minstrel. He played the rabâb (a rebec), hence his surname. In times past, the natives of Qazvin were often characterized in literary texts as simpletons with many humorous stories devoted to them. Even today the word dakhu, which means dehkhodâ or kadkhodâ (the village’s chief) in the dialect of Qazvin, is employed as a funny character in these stories. Some of these stories are attributed to Talkhak (Talhak or Dalqak), the clown at the court of Mahmud the Ghaznavid. The last, but not the least, of these characters in the Persian hazl stories, is of course Mollâ Nasr-al-Din, who is also loved by the people of Uzbekistan, Tajikistan, and Turkey, where his name is variously given as Khwâja Nasr-al-Din or Nasr-al-Din Khwâja. The later narratives featuring Bohlul and Johâ are, in fact, concerned with the Iranian Mollâ Nasr-al-Din or the Khwâja Nasr-al-Din of the countries neighboring Iran.23 The majority of Persian stories which were told or written by the preachers or modhakkerân contain realistic characters, probably based on specific individuals in society. Only very rarely do these stories contain imaginary characters or animal fables.

20 Mojtabâ Minovi, Yâddâshthâ-ye Minovi, eds. Mehdi Qarib and Mohammad Ali Behbudi (2 vols., Tehran, 1996), I, p. 146. 21 Abu’l-Faraj Mohammad b. Eshâq al-Nadim (Ebn-al-Nadim), Ketâb al-fehrest, ed. Eyman Fo’âd Sayyed (4 vols., London, 2009), I, p. 344. 22 Manuchehri Dâmghâni, Divân, ed. Mohammad Dabirsiyâqi (Tehran, 1991), p. 131. 23 Ulrich Marzolph, “Molla Nasr al-Din in Persia,” IrSt 28/3–4 (1995), pp. 157–74.

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2. Books of Multiple Stories with Religious and Didactic Content The oldest surviving book which contains stories told by preachers from their menbars is entitled al-Settin al-jâme’ le-latâ’ef al-basâtin (Sixty Stories about Pleasant Gardens), written by Ahmad b. Mohammad b. Zeyd Tusi (perhaps late 11th century). He writes that while travelling from Khorasan to western Iran, in every city where he preached he was asked to make a compendium related to the art of preaching (fann-e mow’eze). Finally, when he had arrived in Azerbaijan and found there a group most eager to acquire skills in this art, he responded to their request. Having given the matter much thought, he chose the Qur’anic story of Yusof (Joseph) as the foundation and starting point.24 In his commentary on this Qur’anic story, he included sayings and anecdotes as well as references to didactic and mystical beliefs under such rubrics as mow’eze (sermon), nokte (pithy comment), eshârât (allusions), latife (witty anecdote), nazire (analogue), and appropriate stories to underline his preaching, following the same manner of presentation that Ostâji had prescribed. The clarity of his prose and the simple diction that he uses indicate that he wrote it to address the general public, but his work has signs of archaism in features that are reminiscent of early prose writing. The work is interspersed with Ara­bic phrases, quotations from the Qur’an and the Hadith, as well as numerous Persian verses. Another book which is comparable to Tusi’s Tafsir-e qesse-ye Yusof and was influenced by it is Qesse-ye Soleymân (Story of Solomon), which was written by the mufti (Muslim judge) of Arrân, Abu Ya’qub Yusof b. Ali b. Omar Tabrizi in the 12th century. He 24 Ahmad b. Mohammad Tusi, Tafsir-e Qesse-ye Yusof (al-Settin al-jâme’ lelatâ’ef al-basâtin), ed. Mohammad Rowshan (1st ed. Tehran, 1967; revised ed., Tehran, 2003), pp. 1–2. See also Mohammad-Rezâ Shafi’i-Kadkani, “Safine-i az she’r-hâ-ye erfâni-e qarn-e chahârom va panjom,” in Mohammad Torâbi, ed., Jashn-nâme-ye Ostâd Dhabih-Allâh Safâ (Tehran, 1998), pp. 340–60, where the poetical contents and the affiliations of the author with the Karrâmiyya sect are discussed.

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states that he spent his life in “educating and preaching.”25 Abu Ya’qub Tabrizi lived during the reign of the young Bishkin b. Mohammad b. Bishkin (r. 1201–10), one of the Atabeks of Azerbaijan. Abu Ya’qub writes that for the continuation of his rule he wrote a book which everybody could read privately to find salvation.26 His style of writing is that of story within story. The main story of Solomon contains many subsidiary stories, and this is exactly the same as the preachers’ style of telling stories from their menbars. After these two early books, in the first half of the 13th century, we encounter the substantial collection of stories entitled Javâme’ al-hekâyât va lavâme’ al-revâyât (Collected Stories and the Best of Narratives), which was gathered and edited by Mohammad Owfi, who was a preacher as well as a courtier. Unlike his predecessors, he did not write commentaries on the Qur’anic stories, but collected a large volume of the stories told by various preachers. After this, in the literary history of Persia there are numerous collections of stories whose authors were interested in educating and instructing their readers towards a better understanding of Islamic morality as well as amusing them. The author of Javâme’ al-hekâyât, Nur-al-Din or Sadid-al-Din Mohammad Owfi, was one of the learned men of Bukhara and was of Hanafite belief. He was a descendent of Abd-al-Rahmân EbnOwf (d. 653), one of the companions of the prophet Mohammad. Owfi lived in Delhi after 1228 and compiled Javâme’ al-hekâyât around 1233. His book, which is also known as Jâme’ al-hekâyât, contains four chapters, each of which is called qesm. Each qesm contains several sections or bâbs (around twenty). Each bâb opens with a short educational, didactic, and sociological introduction, and sometimes as many as seventy tales are recounted as examples. Owfi himself also inserts his own didactic thoughts within the stories. In the second part of the first qesm some of the sections (bâbs) are refined stories about different social groups who worked in, or in some way had dealings with, the ruling court. These include 25 Abu Ya’qub Yusof Tabrizi, Qesse-ye Soleymân, ed. Ali-Rezâ Emâmi (M. A. thesis, University of Tehran, 2005), p. 2. 26 Yusof Tabrizi, Qesse-ye Soleymân, p. 3.

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teachers, astrologers, interpreters of dreams, poets and minstrels. These types of stories are, more or less, reminiscent of the Chahâr Maqâle (Four Discourses) of the 12th century writer Nezâmi Aruzi. The language of the book is simple and elegant and is devoid of embellishments. In this book, Owfi also translates many stories contained in the Ara­bic book al-Faraj ba’d al-shedde (Relief after Adversity) of Qâzi Abu-Ali Mohassen Tanukhi (d. 994).27 In the seventh part of the fourth chapter, Owfi states that he has translated al-Faraj ba’d al-shedde in its entirety. The names of the storytellers are written at the beginning of each story and references are also given to the sources from which they have been taken. In fact, there is no single story which originates with Owfi himself and he refers to himself as the “collector of these stories” (jâme’-e in hekâyât).28 Al-Faraj ba’d al-shedde is not only written in Ara­bic but its stories are told about Arab life and environment. In the same period, the second half of the 13th century, al-Faraj ba’d al-shedde was translated into Persian by Hoseyn b. As’ad Dehestâni. Surprisingly, the translator does not mention the name of the author of his Ara­ bic original but says that his translation is based on al-Faraj ba’d al-shedde va’l-ziqat written by Abu’l-Hasan Ali b. Mohammad Madâ’eni; he also claims to have inserted some stories of his own,29 and does not even mention the earlier Persian translation by Owfi. In any case his translation is based on the al-Faraj ba’d al-shedde of Tanukhi, with variations and with the addition of material from Dehestâni’s own Ara­bic and Persian poetry, usually inserted at the end of the stories in approval of their didactic theme.30 The translation of Dehestâni which is entitled Faraj ba’d az sheddat is in thirteen bâbs (sections or parts) and all the stories are about characters 27 Sadid-al-Din Mohammad Owfi, Javâme’ al-hekâyât va lavâme al-revâyât (jozv-e avval az qesm-e dovvom, ed. Amir Bânu-Mosaffâ (Karimi) (Tehran, 1980), pp. 11, 321. See also Muhammad Nizâmu’d-Din, Introduction to Jawâmi’ul-‘hikâyat wa Lawâmi’u’r-riwâyât (London, 1929), p. 94. 28 Owfi, Javâme’ al-hekâyât (jozv-e avval az qesm chahârom), ed. Mazâher Mosaffâ (Tehran, 1991), p. 9. 29 Hoseyn b. As’ad Dehestâni, Faraj ba’d az sheddat, ed. Esmâil Hâkemi (3 vols., Tehran, 1984), I, pp. 13–14. 30 Dehestâni, Faraj ba’d az sheddat, I, p. 14.

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who, after suffering a great deal of hardship and misery, end up in comfort and happiness. His prose is relatively simple, but compared to the prose of Jâme’ al-hekâyât it is more artificial and exaggerated, and there is also more Ara­bic in the text. On the whole, this work lacks the sweetness and elegance of Javâme’ al-hekâyât. During Safavid rule in Iran (1501–1722), the development of Persian prose and poetry was very slow and at times remained stagnant. From the beginning of Safavid rule, there were collections of stories written, though not necessarily by preachers and the people of the menbar, but also by the literary men and secretaries (monshiyân) of the rulers of the Safavid kings, who also collected such stories. Exactly from the beginning of this dynasty, during the reign of Shah Esmâ’il I (r. 1501–24), Fakhri Heravi, a Shi’ite poet and writer of the 16th century, edited a collection of popular historical and religious Persian stories in a book named Haft keshvar (Seven Climes). As the title indicates, Fakhri divided this book according to ancient geography and beliefs into “seven climes” (regions), which was an innovative way of proceeding in the history of Persian story writing. His language and narrative imitate travel writing (safar-nâme). His main characters are two companions, one a youth named Ebn-Torâb and the other an old philosopher called Aqil-al-Din, who travel to the seven regions of the world. Haft keshvar, in the manner of all didactic stories, is written in the style of stories within stories. Fakhri Heravi’s main aim in this book is to write a symbolic story (dâstân-e tamthili), in which the passage of life and the vicissitudes of human condition are illustrated. EbnTorâb (meaning “Earth’s Child”) is in fact a symbol of all human beings. Fakhri makes use of many works, among them Owfi’s collection of stories, which he cites as Jâme’ al-hekâyât. He also retells, in prose, some of the stories from the Shâh-nâme. Another story book of the Safavid period is Mahbub al-qolub (Darling of the Hearts) written by Barkhwordâr b. Mahmud Torkemân Farâhi, who lived in the 17th century. He was one of the secretaries (monshi) of the Safavid rulers but resided first at the court of Hoseyn-Qoli Khân Shâmlu (d. 1620). There he wrote a collection of stories entitled Ra’nâ va Zibâ (lit. Elegant of 463

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Stature and Beautiful; names of the two main characters), which became very popular in literary circles and in the private gatherings of literary men, secretaries and poets of his own time. This encouraged him to add other stories to his book and call it Mahfel-ârâ (Ornament of the Assembly). This book was stolen from him when he was on the frontiers of Khorasan with his master, Manuchehr b. Qarchqây-Khân, who was at war with the Kurdish tribe of Chameshgazak. Later on in the 17th century, while in Khabushân (today’s Quchân), he re-edited his book. This This time he gave it the title Mahbub al-qolub,31 because the longest story in the collection is called Shamse va Qahqahe (names of two ministers of the king of fairies, which were also used later as the title of another book). It is obvious from the author’s words that Mahbub al-qolub was written for the entertainment of private literary circles, poets, and writers. It is also evident that Barkhwordâr Farâhi was keen to exhibit his knowledge; he wrote the book in the style of secretarial prose (nathr-e monshiyâne), so that its language is artificial and contains a good deal of exaggerated and complicated verbosity, as well as far-fetched images and a great deal of Ara­bic vocabulary. The introduction consists of five essays (maqâle), and each essay contains one story. Overall, the book consists of five parts (bâbs) and one conclusion (khâteme). Each chapter/part consists of several stories, all of which are about moral life and its rules. The conclusion consists of the story of Ra’nâ va Zibâ which itself contains eleven stories, some of which are concerned with “wiles of women” (makr-e zanân). Except for the two stories, Shamse va Qahqahe and Ra’nâ va Zibâ, which are of the folk tale genre, the majority of the stories, like those of Javâme’ al-hekâyât and stories told by preachers, are realistic. Mahbub al-qolub can be considered as a socio-historical source for the Safavid period, since it enumerates the names of artisans (pishevarân) and headmen (kadkhodâyân) and elders (pirân) of the 31 Barkhwordâr Farâhi (pen-name Momtâz), Dowre-ye kâmel-e ketâb-e Mahbub al-qolub, Mahfel-ârâ, Ra’nâ va Zibâ mashhur be Shamse va Qahqahe (Tehran, 1957), pp. 12–13.

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trade guilds (asnâf-e pishevar) as well as the names of wrestling champions (pahlavânân) of the Safavid period.32 One can also ascertain the presence of artful footmen (shâterân), with their sportive activities early in the mornings and their thefts; the wars and quarrels between the heroes and the rogues (lutiyân), on one side, and the city authorities, on the other.33 Some of these social and historical incidents are clearly comparable with the narrative of Hoseyn-nâme in Hoseyn Kord-e Shabestari. Another book of this period, the title of which shows that, like the two previous books, it was compiled for the entertainment of the educated, is Zinat al-majâles (Ornament of the Assemblies), written around 1596 by Majd-al-Din Mohammad Hoseyni, known as Majdi. It is a collection of didactic and entertaining stories gathered and written for the encouragement of his friends, the stories having been extracted from such books as Owfi’s Javâme’ al-hekâyât, Faraj ba’d az sheddat, Nozhat al-qolub of Hamd-Allâh Mostowfi, Habib al-siyar of Khwândamir, Mirkhwând’s Rowzat al-safâ, and other such historical books.34 Its prose is in the secretarial (monshiyâne) style, associated with the learned men of the Safavid period, though unlike Mahbub al-qolub it is not artificial and verbose. The use of Ara­bic words and phrases and of extravagant similes and descriptive verbs are characteristics of this book. Amongst his prose, the author sometimes inserts his own Persian and Ara­bic verse. Zinat al-majâles starts with a short introduction and has nine chapters, and each chapter has ten sections, each section containing several stories. The printed editions end with the mention of Shah Tahmasb Safavi (1524–74). An important collection of Persian stories of the Safavid period was written in India. It has yet to be edited and published. This is Navâder al-hekâyât va gharâyeb al-revâyât (Rare Stories and Wondrous Narratives), also known as Bahr al-navâder (Sea of 32 Barkhwordâr Farâhi, Dowre-ye kâmel-e ketâb-e Mahbub al-qolub pp. 442–44. 33 Barkhwordâr Farâhi, Dowre-ye kâmel-e ketâb-e Mahbub al-qolub, pp. 400–402, 339. 34 Majd-al-Din Mohammad Hoseyni Majdi, Zinat al-majâles (Tehran, 1963), pp. 9–10.

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Rarities), by Abd-al-Nabi Fakhr-al-Zamâni Qazvini (d. 1631). He is also the author of Tazkere-ye meykhâne and an anthology of poetry and prose, Tarâz al-akhbâr. Only a few manuscripts of this voluminous book survive, such as the one in the British Library (Or. 1874) and MS no. 3171 in the Majles Library in Tehran. The prose, with the exception of the introduction, is simple, and the author begins some of the stories with the catch phrases and style of the professional storytellers. According to the introduction of the book, it was written during the reign of the Moghul emperor Jahângir Gurakâni (r. 1605–28), with the encouragement of some of the author’s friends. It was meant to be read by the learned scholars at the court of Jahângir. The book consists of five large sections, each called sahife, with each sahife consisting of twelve bâbs, and each bâb in turn made up of twelve stories (hekâyât). However, the divisions do not seem completely equal, since the stories of the first sahife are not as numerous as the others.

3. Satire, Facetiae (Burlesque), and Anecdotes In contrast to the moral and didactic tales of preachers and the people of the menbar, some of the Persian stories are facetious and expose the licentious side of Islamic and Iranian society, including erotic tales describing illicit relations between men and women or between men and men. The 14th century poet and satirist Obeyd Zâkâni wrote many such stories in an eloquently assured prose that is close to the everyday language of his own time. Some scholars believe that his hazliyât (facetiae) are a reflection of the society of his time, and he thus satirizes what he considers to be immoral and ugly.35 These scholars seem keen to present Obeyd Zâkâni as a critic of his own time, but in reality they have over-emphasized this element, because his satires and facetiae, particularly those included 35 See for example, Parviz Nâtel-Khânlari, Haftâd sokhan (4 vols., Tehran, 1991–98), III, p. 110; Abd-al-Hoseyn Zarrinkub, Az gozashte-ye adabi-ye Irân (Tehran, 2006), pp. 161–62.

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in Resâle-ye delgoshâ (Heart-Cheering Treatise), are not the exclusive product of Zâkâni’s time but existed in Ara­bic literature of the previous centuries. Some of Zâkâni’s stories can be found, either verbatim or with slight variations, in books such as al-Eqd al-farid (The Unique Necklace), written by Ebn-Abd-Rabbeh (d. 940),36 and Mohâzarât al-odabâ’ (Discourses of Literary Men), the anthology of Ara­bic prose and verse by Râgheb Esfahâni (d. 1109).37 Therefore these stories do not simply reflect the society in which Obeyd Zâkâni lived; and, furthermore, his readers and audience were most probably only limited to the educated scholars and the ruling class. Zâkâni therefore has employed a genre of Ara­bic stories merely to entertain and amuse; nevertheless, in some of his stories, some aspects of social and moral conduct are satirized. It is interesting to note that Aristotle (in his Poetics) believes that the most significant characteristic of comedy is that it affirms exactly the opposite of what is usually accepted by everybody; therefore, Zâkâni’s obscene and bawdy stories in which he explicitly describes sexual acts and employs vulgar names for sexual organs are in fact, a kind of inverted account of the polite language of the moral and didactic stories, so they cannot be a reflection of the society of his time.38 In any case, Obeyd Zâkâni is considered as a pioneer in tanz (satire) and hazl (facetiae) and his innovative prose helped to bring him to fame. There was little of this kind of prose in Persian literature after him, except for the Qajar Period of the 18th and 19th centuries, when some scholars and writers employed an obscene language and wrote obscene stories; but none of them has been well received. The difference between latife and hazl and tanz is that latife is not intended primarily to be humorous and does not employ obscene language. On the contrary, it is a short tale in refined language which narrates a story containing a didactic, philosophical, 36 Cf. Ebn-Abd-Rabbeh, Ketâb al-eqd al-farid, ed. Ahmad Amin, Ebrâhim al-Âbyâri and Abd-al-Salâm Hârun (7 vols., Cairo, 1968), VI, pp. 127–43. 37 Cf. Râgheb Esfahâni, Mohâzarâ al-odabâ’, III, pp. 473–546. 38 Paul Sprachman, “Obeyd Zâkâni va Aristophanes: cherâ nabâyad Akhlâq al-ashrâf-râ serfan âyine-ye asr-e Obeyd dânest,” Irânshenâsi 15:4 (winter 2004), pp. 714–25.

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or mystical message. The preachers knew many stories by heart which they narrated at their preaching sessions in order to break the monotony of preaching. Fakhr-al-Din Ali Safi (d. 1532), one of the preachers of the late 15 th and early 16 th centuries, who learned his trade from his father Hoseyn Vâ’ez Kâshefi, author of Rowzat al-shohadâʾ (Garden of Martyrs) and Fotovvat-nâme-ye soltâni (Royal Book of Chivalry), includes a collection of latâ’ef in his book, Latâ’ef al-tavâ’ef (Witty Tales by Different Professional Groups).39 It is written in simple and elegant prose, in fourteen chapters. This is considered as the first story collection in the latife genre in Persian literature, although such books already existed in Ara­bic, such as Ebn-al-Jowzi’s work entitled Akhbâr al-zerâf va’l-motamâjenin (Stories of the Rakes and Men of Wits).40 Mowlânâ Hoseyn Vâ’ez Kâshefi also collected some stories based on the boundless generosity of the Arab Hâtem Tâʾi in his Resâle-ye Hâtamiyye (Stories about Hâtem Tâʾi), in which some of the stories about Hâtem Tâʾi are confused with the stories associated with Hâtem Asamm, a mystic and Sufi of the 9th century (d. 852)41 Another such book is Kadu matbakh-e qalandari (The Gourd Vessel of the Qalandari Kitchen), which was written by a Sufi preacher of the Safavid period called Adham Qoreyshi Vâʿez Khalkhâli (d. 1642).42 Like others, this collection was used in private gatherings, in this case those of the Sufis. Except for the short introduction, which is somewhat artificial in language, the prose of the stories is very simple. They are not organized around any specific theme, which gives the impression of a somewhat miscellaneous work. The author, nevertheless, encourages the reader to refine the soul and to abandon worldly goods. The latife-hâ, of course, also contain moral and mystical messages which are interspersed with 39

Fakhr-al-Din Ali Safi, Latâ’ef al-tavâ’ef, ed. Ahmad Golchin-Ma’âni (Tehran, 1958). 40 Ed. with introd. by Mohammad Bahr-al-Olum (Najaf, 1967). 41 Resâle-ye Hâtemi has been published twice: by Charles Schefer (Paris, 1883) and by Mohammad-Reza Jalâli Nâ’ini (Tehran, 1921); it has also been translated into English in Ridgeon Lloyd, Jawanmardi: A Sufi Code of Honour (Edinburgh, 2011), pp. 163–214. 42 Adham Khalkhâli, Kadu matbakh-e qalandari, ed. Ahmad Mojâhed (Tehran, 2001), p. 4.

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appropriate Persian verses. The title of the book suits its contents well. In the villages of Iran, the locals used to empty the contents of a kind of pumpkin or marrow (kadu) and use the skin as a vessel to put food or other things in from the kitchen, but for the qalandars, it was a drinking cup for water, comparable to that of the kashkul that the dervishes carried around all the time. Therefore, in Persian literature, the word kadu in the title of a book, like the words kashkul (cup suspended by a chain and carried by a dervish) and chante (dervish’s satchel), denotes texts which do not have any specific order in their contents and consist of a variety of stories and subjects. During the Qajar period, stories which correspond to the literary definition of “political satire” entered into Persian literature. The most valued of these, which satirize the socio-political events of the time, were those by Ali-Akbar Dehkhodâ (d. 1955) entitled Charand-parand, meaning “worthless words” (which today is often mistakenly referred to as Charand o parand). They were published in the newspaper Sur-e Esrâfil, which was edited by Mirzâ Jahângir Shirâzi from 30 May 1907 to 20 June 1908. There is no coarse or obscene language in these stories, but the socio-political situation of the time is heavily satirized, and governing officials are strongly criticized. An important contribution Dehkhodâ made to Persian literature was to simplify and modernize the heavily Ara­bicized and artificial literary language of the Qajars and bring it closer to everyday speech, so that it could be understood by the general public.43 Dehkhodâ, in writing Charand-parand, was influenced by Jalil Mohammad Qolizâde’s humorous stories written in Turkish and published in the Caucasian newspaper Molla Nasreddin which was contemporaneous with Sur-e Esrâfil.44 It is important to note that Dehkhodâ’s innovative work, despite his imitations of the Turkish stories, is unique in Persian literature.

43 Gholâm-Hoseyn Yusofi, Didâri bâ ahl-e Qalam (2 vols., Mashhad, 1978– 79), II, pp. 162–65. 44 Yahyâ Âryanpur, Az Sabâ tâ Nimâ: târikh-e 150 sâl adab-e Fârsi (2 vols, Tehran, 1972), II, pp. 86–92.

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4. Proverbial Stories Proverbial stories are of a kind which explain and illustrate existing proverbs or are the source of some proverbs. The first book written on this subject in Persian was entitled Jâme’ al-tamthil (Compilation of Proverbial Expressions) by Mohammad-Ali Hablerudi. It was written in India in 1644 and tries to explain and comment on proverbs. The author also wrote another book on the same subject. It was assembled in India in 1639 and called Majma’ al-amthâl (Collection of Proverbs). The manuscripts of Jâme’ al-amthâl are scattered and disorganized. They can be divided into two categories: 1. A group of older and more reliable manuscripts preserved in the British Library, the Library of Âstân-e Qods-e Razavi in Mashhad, and the Bankipore Library in India. 2. A second group is made up of more recent manuscripts that were written by unreliable scribes during the early years of the Qajar dynasty; they can be found in the Majles, Melli, and Malek libraries in Tehran (a manuscript kept in the library of the University of Tehran also belongs to this group). All the printed editions so far are based on this second group, and as yet there has not been a scholarly edition based on the earlier manuscripts.45 Jâme’ al-tamthil contains an introduction, twenty-eight bâbs arranged alphabetically, and a conclusion. The stories are varied and seemingly arranged haphazardly, a fact which, like the disorganized manuscripts, adds to the impression that the author had not been able to arrange the stories in any logical manner. Some of the stories illustrate how and why some Persian proverbs were initiated, such as the story of the proverb Allâhomma yek yek va’l-rahmân sar be sar (“O God be merciful to each and all of us”), and the proverb bekub, bekub, hamân ast ke didi (“Beat, beat, you see the same thing at the end”; i. e., no matter how much you try, the result is the same).46 This 45 Mohammad-Ali Hablerudi, “Tashih-e Jâme’ al-tamthil,: ed. Mohammad-Ali Ejtehâdiyân (MA thesis, Tehran, 2009), pp. 16–20. 46 Mohammad Ali Hablerudi, Kolliyyât-e Jâme’ al-tamthil (Tehran, 1996), pp. 33–34, 46–50.

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method is not carried through uniformly in the book, and some stories are rather didactic and recommend a religious way of life. It seems that Hablerudi himself might have been a preacher, since the language of the book is akin to that of preaching and is interspersed with Qura’nic verses and Hadiths along with the stories. The prose of Jâmeʿ al-tamthil is simple and flows smoothly. It is also mixed with verses from famous Persian poets such as Ferdowsi, Nezâmi, Rumi, Sa’di, and Hâfez and also includes many Persian and Ara­bic proverbs. Hablerudi occasionally cites the origin of his stories, such as Bahr al-sa’âdat (Sea of Happiness) by Tâj-al-Din Mohammad Kâzaruni, known as Hâji Harâs (d. 1497). Some of his stories are taken from the book of Beluhar va Budhâsaf and have Indian origins.47 Jâme’ al-tamthil was a popular work, and it was widely read during the 18th century. During the entire Qajar period, it retained its popularity and was republished many times. The interest in folklore in recent years in Iran has meant that proverbs (amthâl) have become a focus of interest for some scholars. Amir-Qoli Amini (d. 1978) was the first to edit and write down the proverbial stories with the proverbs attached to each story. These are arranged alphabetically in two volumes entitled Dâstânhâ-ye amthâl (Tehran, 1945). Another book on the same subject is Rishe-hâ-ye târikhi-ye amsâl va hekam (Historical Roots of Proverbs and Proverbial Sayings), in two volumes edited by Mehdi Partovi-Âmoli (Tehran, 1990). The most important contemporary collection is Tamthil va mathal (Allegories and Proverbs) in two volumes.48 The most important characteristic of these books is that they are based on stories that the general public sent to the radio program Markaz-e farhang-e Irân (Center for Popular Culture). The name of the sender of each story as well as the place it came from are acknowledged in the collection. 47

Ulrich Marzolph, “Illustrated Exemplary Tales: A Nineteenth Century Edition of the Classical Persian Proverb Collection: Jāme‘ al-tamthil,” Proverbium 16 (1999), p. 171. See also Fath-Allâh Mojtabâ’i “Beluhar va Budhâsaf” in Shahriyâr Shâhin-Dezhi, ed., Bangâle dar qand-e Parsi: goftârhâ-’i dar ravâbet-e farhangi-ye Iran va Hend (Tehran, 2013), pp. 395–408. 48 Vol. I, ed. Enjavi Shirâzi (Tehran, 1973); vol. II, ed. Seyyed Ahmad Vakiliyân (Tehran, 1999).

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5. One Thousand and One Nights and Similar Books The Ara­bic book Alf leyle va leyle was first translated into Persian under the title of Hezâr o yek shab (One Thousand and One Nights) in 1845 in Tabriz and printed lithographically (châp-e sangi). Later, it was published several times in the same way in two volumes. The translation was the work of Abd-al-Latif Tasuji Tabrizi, known as Mollâ-bâshi, tutor to the young Nâser-al-Din Shah Qajar when he lived as crown prince in Tabriz. The translation was made at the request of the literature-loving prince Bahman Mirzâ (d. 1884), an uncle to Nâser-al-Din Shah (r. 1848–96). It was started around 1843 in Tabriz and continued when Nâser-al-Din Shah came to the throne in Tehran and completed soon afterwards. Mirzâ Mohammad Ali Sorush (d. 1869) inserted some Persian verses from older poets and some of his own composition in the final translation.49 Tasuji’s style in his translation is more or less that of traditional story-tellers (qesse-hâ-ye naqqâli). Hezâr o yek shab is an ancient book. Ebn-al-Nadim in his Fehrest names the book as Hezâr afsân (One Thousand Tales), and says that it was written for Homâni (Homâ), the daughter of Bahman. He also states that the original of the book was in Persian and was called Alf khorâfe (One Thousand Ridiculous Stories) in Ara­bic; but it is not clear whether parts of it were brought to Iran from India, like Kalile va Demne. Ebn-al-Nadim says that he read the book many times and that its stories are weak and insipid, and although it is called Hezâr shab, there are actually less than two hundred stories, because some of them take several nights to tell.50 It was translated into Ara­bic after Islam arrived in Iran, and, since the original Persian version is lost, it has come to be known by its Ara­bic title of Alf leyle va leyle. It is not known when and by whom this book was translated into Ara­bic. It is obvious that during the centuries the contents of the book have been changed and added to, because the extant manuscripts are all varied and contain different 49 Mohammad Ja’far Mahjub, Adabiyyât-e ammiyâne-ye Irân, ed. Hasan Zu’l-Faqâri (2 vols. in 1, Tehran, 2003), I, pp. 391–96. 50 Ebn-al-Nadim, Fehrest, II, p. 322.

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stories, and what we have is certainly not identical with what Ebnal-Nadim knew of the book. Some of the stories in One Thousand and One Nights are seemingly realistic, but many of them are derived from popular tales and include magic and sorcery, and have characters such as jinns and ghuls (ghouls) Some heroes still behave like the so called ayyârân (“scoundrels”) in what can be regarded as short popular stories. They do not have the same characteristics as the heroes in Persian literature. In any case, the stories are imaginative and that is why One Thousand and One Nights properly belongs to the folkloric genre and not to the realistic genre of the preaching tales. One Thousand and One Nights is written in the manner of stories within stories, a style characteristic of ancient Indian narrative. The main story is about a king (Shahriyâr) who marries women and kills them the next day. When he marries Shahrazâd, the wise daughter of his vizier, she tells the king a story each night but does not finish it till the next night. This continues for one thousand and one nights, which makes the king, at last, spare her life. Each story in One Thousand and One Nights contains several subsidiary stories. Those about “wiles of women” and animal fables would have Indian origins. Some stories are Persian while others come from the popular Ara­bic cultures of Iraq and Egypt in the Islamic era.51 A large number of stories are historically situated in the era of the Abbasid Caliphate in Baghdad, particularly during the reign of Hârun al-Rashid (r. 786–809), depicting life at court and in public.52 On the whole, the spirit of the Arab world dominates this book, and some western scholars consider One Thousand and One Nights as an Ara­bic literary text and not a Persian one. Before the translation of One Thousand and One Nights into Persian during the Qajar period, there existed a genre of Jâme’ 51 Hasan el-Shanny, “The Oral Connections of The Arabian Nights,” in Ulrich Marzolph and Richard van Leeuwen, eds., with the collaboration of Hassan Wassouf, The Arabian Nights Encyclopedia (2 vols., Santa Barbara, Calif., 2004), I, pp. 11–12. 52 Aboubakr Chairabi, “Situation, Motivation and Action in The Arabian Nights,” in The Arabian Nights Encyclopedia, I, pp. 7–8. For further information see, Robert Irwin, The Arabian Nights: A Companion, (London, 1994).

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al-hekâyât from the Safavid period. This genre of books in Iran and India of this time might seem no more than imitations of Owfi’s Javâme’ al-hekâyât of the 13th century, but in fact the stories were short popular and folk types similar to those of One Thousand and One Nights. Today there are many Persian manuscripts of Jâme’ al-hekâyât scattered in different libraries all over the world. They are all different from one another, and no two manuscripts match exactly.53 Even the short tales are not exactly the same. Two of these manuscripts are kept at the libraries of the Academy of Sciences in St. Petersburg (No. A 103) and the Âstân-e Qods-e Razavi in Mashhad (No. 191). This latter contains forty-six stories, some of which are well known folk tales, such as the tales of Salim-e javâheri (Salim the Jeweler), Dalle-ye Mokhtâr (Story of Dalle-ye Mokhtâr) which is more commonly known as Dalile-ye mohtâle, Simorgh and Soleymân (The Phoenix and Solomon), and the story of Hezâr-gisu va Âzâdbakht (lit. One Thousand Locks and Good Fortune, the names of the main characters). Another book which is written totally in imitation of One Thousand and One Nights is Alf al-nahâr or Hezâr ruz. It was originally written in French under the title of Les mille et un jours by François Pétis de la Croix (1653–1713). This was translated into Persian by the orders of Ali-Asghar Khân Atâbak, the minister of Mozaffar-al-Din Shah (r. 1896–1910), by Mohammad Hasan Kamâl-al-Dowle and Mohammad Karim Khân Qâjâr.54 Pétis de la Croix claims that in his travels to Iran he borrowed the Persian manuscript of the book from a dervish in Isfahan by the name of Mokhles Esfahâni and translated it into French. We have no certain way of knowing whether this claim is true or whether it is an invention by the French author.55 There does not exist in Persian such a book by such an author. The main subject of Hezâr ruz is based on the story of Farrokhnâz, the daughter of 53 Ahmad Monzavi, Fehrest-e moshtarak-e noskhe-hâ-ye khatti-ye Pâkestân (13 vols., Islamabad, 1983–92), VI, p. 1082. 54 Alf al-nahâr (Hezâr ruz), tr. Mohammad Hasan Kamâl-al-Dowle and Mohammad Karim Khân Qâjâr (Tehran, 1940), pp. 2–3. 55 Mohammad Ja’far Mahjub, Adabiyyât-e âmmiyâne-ye Irân, I, p. 1, II, pp. 430–31, 435.

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Toghrol Shâh, the king of Kashmir. As the result of a dream she becomes antagonistic towards men and tells her father that she will never marry. Toghrol Shah asks her nurse, Jor’e-Bakhsh, to change his daughter’s mind. For one thousand days, the nurse tells Farrokhnâz stories, by the end of which she is cured of her fear of men and marries the Iranian prince, Farrokhshâd. The story is clearly analogous to One Thousand and One Nights.

6. Children’s Stories and Oral Fables Until a century ago, the majority of Iranians, older men and women in particular, knew popular tales by heart.56 These were tales that had been passed on orally from generation to generation and which have no specific author. These often very highly imaginative tales are usually told to young children of 3–6 years. Animals feature prominently in these stories such as Khâle suske (Auntie Beetle), Boz-e zangule-pâ (The Goat with a Bell on its Ankle) and Kadu qelqele-zan (Rolling Pumpkin). In these stories metrical and rhyming phrases and sentences are employed in the form of tarji’ (refrain) and are repeated throughout.57 Stories for older children have heroes as their main characters and also mythical creatures such as dragons, Simorgh (Phoenix), jinns, fairies (pari), demons (div) and ghouls. Magic and sorcery are important elements in these stories. An example is Qesse-ye Hasan Kachal (Story of Bald Hassan) which was re-written as a film script and produced as a film (1969) by Ali Hâtami (d. 1996). In 1971, the story of Qesse-ye Mâh pishâni” (Story of Moon-Face) was turned into a musical script by Parviz Khatibi and produced as a musical film by Esmâ’il Kushân (d. 1984). In this kind of story, the emphasis 56 For more information on the oral tradition, see Ph. G. Kreyenbroek and U. Marzolph, eds., Oral Literature of Iranian Languages: Kurdish, Pashto, Balochi, Ossetic, Persian and Tajik, HPL XVIII Companion Volume II (London, 2010). 57 Abd-al-Hoseyn Zarrinkub, “Afsâne-hâ-ye âmmiyâne,” in Enâyat-Allâh Majidi, ed., Yâdâshthâ va andishe-hâ (Tehran, 1976), pp. 243–44.

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is, directly or indirectly, on fate and destiny.58 Some children’s stories are humorous and have characters such as Bohlul and Mollâ Nasr-al-Din; some have foolish heroes. Others are concerned with a major historical character such as the Safavid Shah Abbas or a mystical hero such as Khezr.59 These stories are narrated in the contemporary language of the modern people of Iran, and make use of very simple prose. Examples of them can be found in some written works of the past, but most of them were not originally written down at all and were passed on orally for centuries until the present time. During the Pahlavi period, in imitation of the Western Orientalists, Iranians started collecting and publishing these oral short tales. With the assistance of the First Academy (Farhangestân-e avval) and the Ministry of Culture (Vezârat-e ma’âref) of his time, Mohammad-Ali Forughi (d. 1942) turned his attention to the collection of popular literature.60 With Foroughi’s encouragement, Hoseyn Kuhi-Kermâni collected and published his Chahârdah afsâne az afsâne-hâ-ye rustâ’i-ye Iran (Fourteen Folk Tales from the Tales of Persian Peasants, Tehran, 1935). At the same time Sâdeq Hedâyat (d. 1941), independently, started to collect some short oral stories; a few of those for small children were published under the title of Mathal-hâ-ye Fârsi (Persian Proverbs) in his book Owsâne (Fairy Tale, Tehran, 1931). Soon after these early efforts, Radio Iran was established in 1940. The producer of the first children’s program, Fazl-Allâh Mohtadi, known as Sobhi (d. 1962), produced his morning programme Bache-hâ salâm (Hello Children), during which he told stories, and at the end of his program he would ask his listeners to send in stories. A collection of these were published in two volumes entitled Afsâne-hâ (Tehran, 1944 and 1946 respectively). His other works include Afsâne-hâ-ye bâstâni-ye Irân va Majâr (Ancient Tales from Iran and Hungary, Tehran, 1953), Afsâne-hâ-ye Bu-Ali 58 Zarrinkub, “Afsâne-hâ-ye âmmiyâne,” p. 248. 59 Ulrich Marzolph, Tabaqe-bandi-ye qesse-hâ-ye Irâni, tr. Kaykâvus Jahândâri (Tehran, 1997), pp. 42–48. 60 Iraj Afshâr, “Hedâyat va nezâm-e gerdâveri-ye farhang-e mardom-e Irân,” Faslnâme-ye farhang-e mardom 2/1 (2003), pp. 11–12, 24–25.

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Sinâ (Tales of Avicenna, Tehran, 1954), and Afsâne-hâ-ye kohan (Ancient Folk Tales, 2 vols., Tehran, 1949 and 1952 respectively). After Sobhi, Amir-Qoli Amini (d. 1978) published a collection of stories based on proverbs, entitled Si afsâne az afsâne-hâ-ye mahalli-ye Esfahân (Thiry Tales from Local Tales of Isfahan, Tehran, 1950). Behruz Dehqâni and Samad Behrangi produced Afsânehâ-ye Âzerbâyjân (Tales from Azerbayjan, Tabriz, 1965), and AbolQâsem Faqiri pulished Qesse-hâ-ye mardom-e Fârs (Stories from the People of Fars, Tehran, 1970). Scholars in other regions of Iran gradually gathered the oral stories of their own province. The most important collection of oral stories, however, is that of Enjavi Shirâzi (d. 1996), who was a friend of Sâdeq Hedâyat. He collected the stories which were sent to him at the radio station and published them in three volumes. The first two are entitled Qesse-hâ-ye Irâni (Iranian Stories; Tehran, 1972 and 1973), and the third volume appeared as Sang-e sabur (Patient Stone; Tehran, 1975). The most significant characteristics of these volumes are that these stories are published verbatim with the names and locations of the senders, whether they came from a small village or a big town. A subsequent edition of the first two volumes appeared under the title of Gol be-senobar che mikard? (What did the Rose do to the Fir Tree?; Tehran, 1978). Other collections which Enjavi published, following the same method, are Mardom va Shâh-nâme (People and the Shâh-nâme; Tehran, 1975) and Mardom va Ferdowsi (People and Ferdowsi; Tehran, 1976). These include stories commonly told about Ferdowsi and personal retellings of stories from the Shâh-nâme. Collecting and publishing oral stories was continued after Enjavi by his assistant Ahmad Vakiliyân, in collaboration with scholars of the Pazhuheshkade-ye mardom-shenâsi-ye Sâzmân-e mirâth-e farhangi (Anthropological Research Institute and Foundation for Cultural Heritage), published Qesse-hâ-ye mardom (Popular Stories; Tehran, 1990). Other works by various editors have been collected and published. It is to be hoped that one day these oral stories will become the subject of full scholarly analysis. Without doubt the psychological and sociological aspects of these stories will contribute to a better understanding of the spirit of the Iranian people and of their lives and thoughts throughout the ages. 477

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Bibliography Afshâr, Iraj. “Hedâyat va gerdâvari-ye farhang-e mardom-e Irân,” in Faṣlnâme-ye farhang-e mardom 2/1 (2003), pp. 10–22. Afshâri, Mehrân. Neshân-e ahl-e Khodâ: majmuʿe-ye maqâle-hâ dar naqd va taḥlil-e adabiyyât-e ʿerfâni-ye Fârsi. Tehran, 2007. Afshâri, Mehrân and Mehdi Madâ’eni, eds. Chahârdah resâle dar bâb-e fotovvat va aṣnâf. Tehran, 2002. Âryanpur, Yaḥyâ. Az Sabâ tâ Nimâ. 2 vols. Tehran, 1972. Barkhwardâr Farâḥi. Dowre-ye kâmel-e ketâb-e Maḥbub al-qolub, Maḥfel-­ ârâ, Raʿnâ va Zibâ, mashhur be-Shamse va Qahqahe. Tehran, 1957. Chairabi, Aboubakr. “Situation, Motivation, and Action in The Arabian Nights,” in Ulrich Marzolph and Richard Yan Leeuwen, eds., with the collaboration of Hassan Wassouf, The Arabian Nights Encyclopedia, 2 vols., Santa Barbara, Calif., 2004, I, pp. 5–9. Dehestâni, Ḥoseyn b. Aṣʿad. Faraj ba‛d az sheddat. Ed. Esmâ’il Ḥâkemi. 3 vols. Tehran, 1984. Ebn-al-Jowzi, Abu’l-Faraj. Ketâb al-qoṣṣâṣ va’l-modhakkerin. Ed. Merlin L. Swartz. Beirut, 1997. Ebn-al-Nadim, Abu’l-Faraj. Ketâb al-fehrest. Ed. Eyman Fo’âd Sayyed. 4 vols. London, 2009. Ebn-ʿAbd-Rabbeh. Ketâb al-ʿeqd al-farid. Ed. Aḥmâd Amin, Ebrâhim al-Âbyâri and ʿAbd-al-Salâm Hârun. 7 vols. Cairo, 1968. El-Shany, Hasan. “The Oral Connections of The Arabian Nights,” in Ulrich Marzolph and Richard Yan Leeuwen, eds., with the collaboration of Hassan Wassouf, The Arabian Nights Encyclopedia, 2 vols., Santa Barbara, Calif., 2004, I, pp. 9–11. Elwell-Sutton, Laurence Paul. Qeṣṣehâ-ye Mashdi Galin-khânom. Ed. Ulrich Marzolph and tr. Âzar Aminhoseyni and Sayyed Ahmad Vakiliyân. Tehran, 1997. Hablerudi, Moḥammad-ʿAli. Kolliyyât-e Jâmeʿ al-tamthil. Tehran 1996. ­—. Taṣḥiḥ-e Jâme‛ al-tamthil. Ed. Moḥammad-ʿAli Ejtehâdiyân. M. A. thesis, Tehran University, 2009. Irwin, Robert. “The Arabian Nights in Film Adaptations,” in Ulrich Marzolph and Richard Yan Leeuwen, eds., with the collaboration of Hassan Wassouf, The Arabian Nights Encyclopedia, 2 vols., Santa Barbara, Calif., 2004, I, pp. 22–25. ­—. The Arabian Nights: A Companion. London, 1994. Jâḥeẓ, Abu ‛Othmân. al-Bayân va’l-tabyin. Ed. ʿAbd-al-Salâm Moḥammad Hârun. 4 vols. Beirut, 1948.

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Popular Anecdotes and Satire Kamâl-al-Dowle, Moḥammad Ḥasan and Moḥammad Karim-Khân Qâjâr, trs. Alf al-nehâr (Hezâr ruz). Tehran, 1950. Khalkhâli, Aḥmad. Kadu maṭbakh-e qalandari. Ed. Aḥmad Mojâhed. Tehran, 1991. Nâtel-Khânlari, Parviz. Haftâd sokhan. 3 vols. Tehran, 1990. Maḥjub, Moḥammad-Jaʿfar. Adabiyyât-e ʿ âmmiyâne-ye Irân. Ed. Ḥasan Dhu’l-Faqâri. 2 vols in 1. Tehran, 2003. Majdi, Majd-al-Din Moḥammad. Zinat al-majâles. Tehran, 1963. Manuchehri Dâmghâni, Aḥmad b. Qows. Divan-e Manuchehri-ye Dâmghâni. Ed. Moḥammad Dabirsiyâqi. Tehran, 1991. Marzolph, Ulrich. Der weise Narr Buhlūl. Wiesbaden, 1983. Tr., ed., and expanded with introd. by Bâqer Qorbâni Zarrin as Bohlul-nâme. Tehran, 2009. ­—. “Illustrated Exemplary Tales: A Nineteenth Century Edition of the Classical Persian Proverb Collection: Jāme‘ al-tamthil.” Proverbium 16 (1999), pp. 167–91. ­—. “Molla Nasr al-Din in Persia,” IrSt 28/3–4, (1995), pp. 157–74. ­—. Ṭabaqe-bandi-ye qeṣṣe-hâ-ye Irâni, tr. Keykâvus Jahândâri. Tehran, 1997. Minovi, Mojtabâ. Yaddâshthâ-ye Minovi. Ed. Mehdi Qarib and Moḥammad-ʿAli Behbudi. 2 vols. Tehran, 1996. Mojtabâ’i, Fatḥ-Allâh. “Belouhar va Budhâsaf” in Shahriyâr Shâhin-Dezhi, ed., Bangâle dar qand-e parsi: goftârhâʾ i dar ravâbet-e farhangi-ye Irân va Hend, Tehran, 2013, pp. 395–408. Monzavi, Aḥmad. Fehrest-e moshtarak-e noskhehâ-ye khaṭṭi-ye Pâkestân. 13 vols. Islamabad, 1983–1992. Niẓámud’d-Dín, Muḥammad. Introduction to the Jawámiʿu’l-Ḥikáyát wa Lawámiʿu’r-Riwáyát. London, 1929. Ostâji, Jamâl. al-Majâles va’l-mavâʿeẓ. Ed. Farzâd Moravveji. M. A. thesis, Tehran University, 2011. Owfi, Moḥammad. Javâmeʿ al-ḥekâyât va lavâmeʿ al-revâyât. Ed. Amir Bânu Moṣaffâ. Tehran, 1980. Owfi, Moḥammad. Javâmeʿ al-ḥekâyât va lavâmeʿ al-revâyât Ed. Maẓâher Moṣaffâ. Tehran, 1991. Râgheb Eṣfahâni, Abu’l-Qâṣem. Moḥâżarât al-odabâʾ va moḥâvarât alshoʿarâʾ va’l-bolaghâʾ. Ed. Riyâż ʿAbd-al-Ḥamid Morâd. 5 vols. Beirut, 2006. Ṣafi, Fakhr-al-Din ʿAli. Laṭâʾef al-ṭavâʾef. Ed. Aḥmad Golchin-Maʿâni. Tehran, 1957.

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PERSIAN PROSE Shafiʿi-Kadkani, Moḥammad-Reżâ. “Safine-i az sheʿr-hâ-ye ʿerfâni-e ­qarn-e chahârom va panjom,” in Moḥammad Torâbi, ed., Jashn-nâme-ye Ostâd Dhabih-Allâh Ṣafâ, Tehran, 1998, pp. 340–60. Sheykhli, Ṣabâḥ Ebrâhim Sa‛id. Al-aṣnâf fi‘l-ʿaṣr al-ʿAbbâsi: nashʾatohâ va taṭavvorohâ. Baghdad, 1976. Sprachman, Paul. “ʿObeyd-e Zâkâni va Aristophanes: cherâ nabâyad Akhlâq al-ashrâf-râ ṣerfan âyine-ye aṣr-e ʿObeyd dânest,” Iranshenâsi, 15/4 (2003), pp. 714–25. Tabrizi, Abu Ya‛qub. Qeṣṣe-ye Soleymân. Ed. ʿAli-Reżâ Emâmi. M. A. thesis, University of Tehran, 2005. Ṭusi, Aḥmad b. Moḥammad. Qeṣṣe-ye Yusof. Ed. Moḥammad Rowshan. Tehran, 2003. Yusofi, Gholâm-Ḥoseyn. Didâri bâ ahl-e-qalam. Tehran, 1991. Zarrinkub, ʿAbd-al-Ḥoseyn. “Dar bâre-ye afsâne-hâ-ye ʿâmmiyâne” in ʿEnâyat-Allâh Majidi, ed., Yâddâshthâ va andishe-hâ, Tehran, 1976, pp. 242–50. Zâkâni, ʿObeyd. Kolliyyât-e ʿObeyd-e Zâkâni. Ed. Moḥammad-Jaʿfar Maḥjub. New York, 1999.

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CHAPTER 10 THE DEVELOPMENT OF MODERN PERSIAN PROSE: FROM THE NINETEENTH TO THE EARLY TWENTIETH CENTURY Iraj Parsinejad

1. Historical Background In a study of the evolution of Persian prose over a long period, due attention must be paid to the historical context and background. Âqâ-Mohammad Khan’s reign (1789–97) established the Qajar dynasty and brought relative security to Iran. This led to the revival of customs and traditions of earlier and more clement days. The shahs again resumed the role of Maecenas, with the exception of the founder of the dynasty himself, too pre-occupied as he was in suppressing enemies and establishing a stable central authority, to pay due attention to poets and their panegyrics. The task was left to his successor, Fath-Ali Shah (1797–1834), who revived the tradition to a large extent. This was also true of Fath-Ali Shah’s great grandson, Nâser-al-Din Shah (1848–96), who also had some literary and artistic aptitude and penned poems and wrote engaging diaries himself. Moreover, many of Fath-Ali Shah’s numerous offspring were involved in literary activities. The princes’ tutors were often people from a scholarly background, capable of offering them a grounding in traditional literary disciplines. The establishment of a powerful central government also led to the expansion of court institutions and administrative departments. People endowed with writing skills converged on the capital Tehran, hoping to serve at the royal court in various administrative 481

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capacities. This led to the emergence of a growing number of state accountants and financial administrators referred to as mostowfis. Deeply rooted in traditional Persian culture, they enjoyed an adequate stipend and were able to devote part of their day to literary activities. Moreover, some of them were able to travel on missions abroad or accompanied the shah himself on his visits to European countries, enabling them to become familiar with modern European institutions. Among the more eminent and forward-looking figures were Hasan-Ali Khan Amir-Nezâm Garrusi (1820–1900), Mirzâ Hoseyn Khan Sepahsâlâr Moshir-al-Dowle (1828–81), Mirzâ Taqi Khan Amir-Kabir (1807–52), and Mirzâ Malkom Khan Nâzem-al-Dowle (1833–1908). Diplomatic contacts between Iran and European countries on a formal and regular basis dated back to the era of the Safavid dynasty in the 16 th and 17 th centuries. The relationship became broader and more complex as a result of the increasing rivalry between the Russian and the British empires. The latter was largely influenced in the region by the colonial policies of the East India Company. The French, under Napoleon Bonaparte, also harbored wider territorial ambitions and found it useful to establish friendly contacts with the Iranian court. The country gradually became an arena for intense political rivalry between European powers. After the Iranian defeat in the second Russo-Persian war (1826–28), the crown prince Abbâs Mirzâ (1789–1833), conscious of the country’s backwardness in military matters, dispatched students to Europe in an effort to familiarize them with modern developments in military sciences and technology. The idea of modernism in Iran began imperceptively through a process of discarding the nebulous notion of a “celestial land” in favor of a more down-to-earth focus on pragmatism in everyday life. Among many factors that influenced the Iranian enlightenment, the following can be briefly enumerated: 1. Cultural contacts between Tehran, Istanbul, Cairo, and the Caucasus in general, i. e., regions where a number of Iranian political activists had congregated; 2. The awareness of radical reform taking place in other countries in the Near and Far East, most notably in the Ottoman empire 482

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3. 4. 5.

6.

during the Tanzimat (1839–76) and in Japan during the Meiji era (1868–1912); The publication of progressive newspapers in Persian, Turkish, and Ara­bic disseminating new ideas of social and political reform; The introduction of printing technology to Iran, leading to the proliferation of newspapers and printed books; The founding in 1851 of a polytechnic college, Dâr al-Fonun, which familiarized its students with new sciences and new fields of scholarship and also instigated the translation of various works from European languages into Persian; The publication of books and treatises that introduced scientific and analytical knowledge to Iran.

Since many intellectuals increasingly found the existing homegrown political and philosophical discourse moribund and mired in outworn religious or traditional modes of thinking, they turned eagerly to new ideas derived from European thinkers. For example, René Descartes’s famous tract, Discours de la Méthode (1637), was translated into Persian and published in 1862. Similarly, ideas originating from the works of western philosophers such as Auguste Comte, David Hume, John Locke, John Stuart Mill, Jean-Jacques Rousseau, and Pierre-Joseph Proudhon were quoted and reflected in the works of Iranian intellectuals in this period. In the second half of the 19th century, Comte de Gobineau (1816–82) was surprised to meet learned members of the Iranian Jewish community who were able to discuss the works of Kant and Spinoza with him.1 It was also in such an era and milieu that Mirzâ Fath-Ali Âkhund­zâde (1812–78) wrote his Maktubât-e Kamâl-al–Dowle (The Correspondence of Kamâl-al–Dowle), in which he expounded his materialist thinking. Influenced by Âkhundzâde’s work, Abdal-Hosayn Mirzâ Âqâ Khan Kermâni (1854–96) wrote treatises including Se maktub (Three Letters) and Sad khetâbe (A Hundred Lectures). Under the influence of a contemporary philosopher, the French positivist Auguste Comte (1798–1857), Mirzâ Malkom 1

Comte de Gobineau, Les religions et les philosophies dans l’Asie central (3rd ed., Paris, 1900), p. 25.

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Khan, who will be discussed extensively below, viewed the political situation from the standpoint of scientific reasoning, while in social criticism he relied on the influence of Voltaire.2 Each of these works reflected the new learning in the areas of science, politics, and sociology that informed the thinking of Iranian reformists and prompted them to reformulate their newly acquired ideas in a language amenable to their educated audience in Iran. At the same time, an increasing number of citizens had achieved sufficient competence in literacy to become avid and impatient readers, eager to grasp the general ideas propounded in any text quickly and easily. Ornate rhyming prose no longer appealed to them. The system of patronage was also changing. Most writers no longer enjoyed the direct patronage of princes and other dignitaries and had to find other ways to earn their living. They either became civil servants or worked in the private sector. Some went into journalism. The combination of all these factors put an end to the previously flourishing market for florid styles of writing, replete with elaborate figures of speech and contorted word play. These were dismissed as outmoded relics of the past. The emphasis was now on conciseness and lucidity as Persian prose began to embrace recent debates on political and social matters and was used for the creative writing of novels, stories, plays, satire, and literary criticism. As the literature of the past offered little precedence or prototypes for these new and diverse literary ventures, writers were able to adopt a more radical approach and experiment with innovative forms more daringly to appeal to the new and expanding reading public.3 As already mentioned, classical Persian prose was often over-burdened with excessive rhetorical flourishes, obscuring any significant information or novel ideas embedded in them. Examples of this can be found, for instance, in historical works of the Mongol and post-Mongol periods, such as Târikh-e Vassâf, Dorre-ye nâdere, and Târikh-e mo’ jam. Writers of such works were usually 2 3

Iraj Parsinejad, A History of Literary Criticism in Iran (1866–1951) (Maryland, 2003), pp. 26–27. Parviz Nâtel Khânlari, “Nathr dar dowre-ye akhir,” in Nakhostin ­kongre-ye nevisandegân-e Irân (Tehran, 1947), p. 131.

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secretaries or scribes at various princely courts and considered it a proof of artistry and erudition to impress their patrons with their far-fetched metaphors and lengthy digressions. Mirzâ Abu’l-Qâsem Qâ’em-Maqâm Farâhâni (1779–1835), grand vizier to Mohammad Shah, was a pioneer in the transformation and rejuvenation of the bureaucratic prose of his time, although his own prose at times contains long stretches in the embroidered style that characterized the writing of other political figures of the early Qajar period. Nevertheless, it could be said that he was mainly responsible for creating a bridge between the earlier styles of Persian prose and modern political discourse.4 Following Qâ’em-Maqâm’s model, Mirzâ Taqi Khan Amir-Kabir also opted for a simple, lucid prose in his writings. However, it is Mirzâ Malkom Khan Nâzem-al-Dowle who can be identified as the forerunner of the use of simple, meaningful Persian prose. The writers hitherto referred to were all, to some extent, under the influence of their educational upbringing and followed in the footsteps of those who had produced antiquated and highly ornate Persian prose. Malkom Khan’s prose was radically different. He had left Iran for France at the age of ten and stayed in Europe long enough to become familiar with European languages and culture at close quarters. Upon his return to Iran, he was employed by the Iranian Foreign Ministry, and also worked as a translator and interpreter for the European teachers of Dâr al-Fonun, the recently founded polytechnic mentioned before. Another duty of his was to translate correspondence at the prime minister’s office. As he had been away from the Iranian educational milieu since childhood, his mind was not conditioned by the traditional patterns and set clichés of Persian literature;5 and in his years abroad he had acquired the habit of writing lucidly and to the point. Malkom’s prose approached the simplicity of spoken language not only in his newspaper, Qânun (Law), but also in his various essays and pamphlets. He successfully used Persian to express new 4 5

Javâd Tabâtabâ’i, Maktab-e Tabriz va mabâni-ye tajaddod-khwâhi (2 vols. in 1, Tehran, 2006), p. 177. See Parsinejad, A History of Literary Criticism in Iran, p. 100.

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concepts and introduce innovative ideas from Europe in the fields of law, politics, and social science. This was of substantial benefit to writers who succeeded him. It was for these qualities that he was known as the forerunner of a new school or style, to which Mohammad-Taqi Bahâr (1886–1951) referred as “The Malkom School.”6

2. Iranian Intellectuals and Persian Prose Mirzâ Fath-Ali Âkhundzâde’s Qeritikâ (Critique), composed in 1866, is perhaps the foremost pioneering work of modern literary criticism in Iran. It was a critique of a panegyric poem by the poet Sorush Esfahâni (1813–68), deriding its manner as well as its matter. Âkhundzâde advocated simplicity and lucidity, in prose and in verse, and warned against indulging in a string of overlong, pompous and superfluous sentences. In his treatise Irâd (“Objection”), which he wrote in Baku in 1863, Âkhundzâde criticized Mirzâ Rezâ-Qoli Khan Hedâyat (1800–1871) for the style of his supplement to Rowzat al-safâ, Mirkhwând’s famous historical chronicle. Among other things, he wrote: “If a person writes state history in the manner of scribes, tell him not to bother, as no one will read what he writes!”7 Another criticism raised by Âkhundzâde in Irâd is directed at the usage of cadences in prose (which he misleadingly calls “rhymes in prose”). He writes: “What is it that makes you use so many superfluous words in your writing for the sake of rhymes without paying attention to the actual topic?”8 In his criticism of rhyming prose he writes: “Believe me that using rhymes in prose leads to a half-baked text and reduces the dignity thereof. This practice is the legacy of 6

Mohammad-Taqi Bahâr, Sabk-shenâsi yâ târikh‑e tatavvor‑e nathr‑e Fârsi (rev. ed., repr., 3 vols., Tehran, 1970), III, p. 374. 7 Mirzâ Fath-Ali Âkhundzâde, Resâle-ye irâd, MS Ketâbkhâne-ye Melli-ye Irân, Tehran, no. 29, in idem, Äsärläri, ed. H. Mämmädzadä and H. Arasly (3 vols., Baku, 1958–62), II, p. 384. 8 Âkhundzâde, Äsärläri, II, p. 380.

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Arabs. It has been used in Iran for eight-hundred years, but it is sheer folly.”9 Mirzâ Âqâ Khan Kermâni, the notable polemicist, was another literary figure who viewed the Persian language and literature of his day with a critical eye. He writes: Today, European literature has advanced so much that a comparison between their work and the exquisite works of our literary figures would be like comparing telegraphic communication with a bush telegraph, an electric light with a rush light, electric railways with a Bactrian camel, a steamship with a coracle, an Artesian well with an ox-drawn water wheel, or a silk factory and a cotton-beater.10

And this is what he has to say about one of the indicators of the backwardness of Persian language and literature: When studying our best books, any Western literary figure would find several errors in the usage of words and phrases and in the conveying of meanings. Not even the greatest figures of our literature have paid any attention to a single one of those errors.11

In the same treatise he also rails against the obfuscation that results from employing a needlessly complicated diction: This reduces clarity which must be a natural characteristic of such writings and, thereby, renders them useless. No one has so far thought of abandoning this decrepit structure and erecting a new one in its place.12

However, it should be pointed out that in his implicit claim to originality, Mirzâ Âqâ Khan had overstated his case. Thirty-eight years before he had thought of dismantling the old structure and building a new one, Fath-Ali Âkhundzâde had this to say on the same topic:   9 Âkhundzâde, Äsärläri, II, pp. 383–84. 10 Mirzâ Âqâ Khan Kermâni, Reyhân-e bustân-afruz, unfinished autograph MS, p. 6, now in the Mojtabâ Minovi Library (written in 1895). 11 Âqâ Khan Kermâni, Reyhân-e bustân-afruz, p. 6. See also Fereydun Âdamiyyat, Andishe-hâ-ye Mirzâ Âqâ Khân-e Kermâni (Tehran, 1978), p. 209. 12 Kermâni, Reyhân-e bustân-afruz, p. 9.

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PERSIAN PROSE Do not repeat the same point by way of synonyms and the usage of different words and phrases. In prose, do not restrict yourself by insisting on the use of rhymes. This should not be regarded as a prerequisite of eloquence. An eloquent discourse is one that is succinct and clear. Do not make your writing too different from the spoken language, […] express topics in a way that would approach the spoken speech.13

On the same topic, Zeyn-al-Âbedin Marâghe’i (1839–1910) expressed the opinion that both the educated and the less educated common people should be provided with clear and simple diction in prose and poetry and that writers should instigate and encourage plain writing.14 Similarly, Mirzâ Âqâ Khan Kermâni criticized writers of his time, saying that even after the passage of many centuries, they still imitate the style of Kalile va Demne or Sa’di’s Golestân. Âkhundzâde was of the same opinion: “We are now well beyond the era of Golestân and Zinat al-majâles. Such writings are of no use to the people today.”15 This is another example of how such critics advise the writers of their time: They should gather simple, effective, and fluent colloquial words and phrases of the Persian language in the expression of ethics, zeal, and love for humanity. They should propagate these words among the masses of Iran and thereby […] revive the dead blood and the dejected lives of an ancient nation.16

Mirzâ Malkom Khan offers a dialogue on the same theme. He visualizes a gathering of literary figures who like to indulge in flowery language. Through the words of an imaginary person present at 13 Mirzâ Fath-Ali Âkhundzâde, Maqâle-ye alefbâ-ye jadid (1858) in idem, Alefbâ­ye jadid va Maktubât, ed. Hamid Mohammadzâde and H. Ârâsli (Baku, 1963), pp. 10–11. 14 Yahyâ Âryanpur, Az Sabâ tâ Nimâ (2 vols., Tehran, 1971), I, p. 357. 15 Letter to Mirzâ Âqâ Tabrizi, 1871, in Âkhundzâde, Äsärläri, II, p. 372. 16 Mirzâ Âqâ Khan Kermâni, Se Maktub = MS Cambridge University Library, E. G. Browne collection, L. 5 (9), fol. 151 (three fictitious letters by Kamâlal-Dowle to Jalâl-al-Dowle in imitation of Âkhundzâde’s Maktubât; on the MS, see R. A. Nicholson, A Descriptive Catalogue of the Oriental MSS. Belonging to the Late E. G. Browne, Cambridge, 1932, pp. 147–50).

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the meeting, he addresses a writer who is wallowing in such a vapid pastime: You fool! You driveller! What do you understand of all this rubbish? Why go to all these lengths in wasting your own time? How much longer are you going to coagulate human thought with meaningless words? How much trouble are people going to take to understand just what kind of nonsense you have been anxious to spew?17

In another context, Malkom Khan is even more vehement, referring to writers indulging in excessive artifice as clearly demented: A number of people thought that language had been invented not so much to express meaning as to affect rhymed prose and to waste time. These latter-day madmen, who are publicly known as drivellers, in following their beliefs have never pursued meaning either in conversation or in their writings. If a sage expresses learned matters in a simple and clear way, they would say he has not much understanding since any illiterate person can easily understand his words. As they thought rhymed prose was the ultimate in technique, and had no other object in their writings but effecting rhymes, most of the time they concocted several absurd lines for the sake of bringing off a single rhyme.18

Abd-al-Rahim Tâlebof (1834–1911) is also among the writers and thinkers who are regarded as forerunners and advocates of simple writing in Persian and for expressing scientific arguments in a lucid, comprehensible manner. His knowledge of Russian language and literature and his experience as a translator of Russian texts into Persian encouraged him to adopt a simple diction, although his work is at times marred by an excessive use of Turkish words and foreign terminology derived from Russian and Turkish. It should be borne in mind that he had spent most of his life in Russia and perhaps thought in Turkish while he wrote in Persian.

17 Mirzâ Malkom Khan, Sayyâhi guyad (Ferqe-ye kajbinân), MS in the hand writing of Abbâs-Qoli Khan Âdamiyyat, Fereydun Âdamiyyat’s private library, fols. 5–6; also in Mirza Malkom Khan (Nâzem-al-Dowle), Rasâ’el, ed. Hâshem Rabi’zâde (Tehran, 1907), pp. 187–212. 18 Malkom Khan, Sayyâhi guyad, fol. 1.

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This survey of the views of Iranian intellectuals in the 19 th century and, in particular, of what they have written on Persian prose with increasing vehemence illustrates their passionate advocacy for the kind of clear and concise writing that could be understood by public at large and directly affect its modes of thought and conduct. They regarded modern literature in its widest sense as a harbinger of modernity and its beneficial impact when conveyed with clarity as a vital and far-reaching factor in the overall advancement of the country.

3. Pure Persian The topic of “Pure Persian” cannot be overlooked in any study of the usage and style of the language.19 As early as the latter part of 11 th century, Shahmardân b. Abi’l-Kheyr in his introduction to Rowzat al-monajjemin (Astronomers’ Garden) questioned the use of abstruse Persian terminology as a substitute for Ara­bic technical terms: And the strangest thing of all is that they rationalize writing a book in Persian by claiming that it has now become accessible to those who do not know Ara­bic. But they write in such a pure Persian form that it is even more difficult to understand than Ara­bic. They would make this understanding easier if they used words in current usage.20

The drive to use pure Persian was a reaction against the practice of using Ara­bic, Mongolian, and Turkish words, even when Persian equivalents were available, as a means of parading one’s erudition. The practice went back at least to the 14 th century, with works such as Târikh-e Vassâf and Dorre-ye nâdere exemplifying it. Against this tendency during the Qajar era stood the likes of Yaghmâ Jandaqi (1782–1859) and Jalâl-al-Din Mirzâ (1827–72), who strove to purge the language from its foreign elements.21 19 Parsinejad, A History of Literary Criticism in Iran, pp. 128–33. 20 Shahmardân b. Abi’l-Kheyr, Rowżat al-monajjemin, facs. ed. with introd. by Jalil Akhavân Zanjâni (Tehran, 1989), p. 2. 21 Ali Akbar Dehkhodâ, Loghat-nâme (50 vols., Tehran, 1947–73), introd.

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The increasing desire of Iranian intellectuals, particularly those of the Qajar era, to write in pure Persian, was also influenced by nationalist sentiments which had originated in Europe. The impact of the French Revolution and the concurrent notions of national sovereignty and self-determination began to gain currency. A new terminology was needed to define these emerging concepts of nationhood and national identity, or else existing terms had to be endowed with new nuances. Tâlebof, among others, began to use mellat (religious community) in the sense of nation and vatan (birthplace) in the sense of homeland.22 The tendency to “cleanse” one’s language of (selected) foreign influences was by no means restricted to Iran. As Fereydun Âdamiyyat has pointed out: An important feature of nationalist trends apparent in all Asian societies (of course to different extents) is their special dislike of the manifestations of the culture and civilization that had earlier dominated and influenced them. This dislike and avoidance may seem to be childish, but must be understood in the interest of the correct analysis of nationalism in the East.23

In Iran, such antipathy was mainly directed at Ara­bic. A leading early proponent of weeding out Ara­bic influences from the Persian language was the above-mentioned Qajar prince, Jalâl-al-Din Mirzâ, who wrote his Nâme-ye khosrovân (Book of Kings) in “Pure Persian” (3 volumes, 1868–71). He sent this book to Âkhundzâde and wrote in the accompanying letter: As I pondered the thought of writing a book in the style of our forefathers which, like our other knowledge, is pillaged by Arabs and from which only a name has survived, (I decided) to write a book which would benefit the people of our birthplace.24 22 As is readily apparent, Tâlebof used mellat in the sense of nation and vatan to mean French patrie. This became clear when he spoke of liberty, equality, and the voice of the majority; see Abdul-Hadi Hairi, Shi’ism and Constitutionalism in Iran (Leiden, 1977), pp. 44–45. 23 Âdamiyyat, Andishe-hâ-ye Mirzâ Âqâ Khân Kermâni, pp. 266–67. 24 Jalâl-al-Din Mirzâ to Âkhundzâde (Baku, 1870), in Âkhundzâde, Alefbâ-ye jadid va Maktubât, p. 373.

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In his reply, Âkhundzâde praised the prince’s work: It is particularly praiseworthy that your Excellency has completely eradicated Ara­bic words from the Persian language. I wish that others would emulate you and emancipate our language, which is the sweetest of all languages in the world, from admixture with the rough and hard Ara­bic language. As your honorable Excellency is trying to liberate our language from the domination of Ara­bic, I am working hard to save our nation from the Ara­bic script. Let us hope for a third person to come along to liberate our nation from the yoke of much of the condemned customs of these Arabs who doubly destroyed our country, which is the flower garden of the world, and brought such misery, harm, degradation, servitude, and corruption upon us.25

Though equally concerned with the baleful effects of the Arab domination of Iran, Mirzâ Âqâ Khan Kermâni took a different stance. He was harshly critical of the champions of “Pure Persian,” like Jalâl-al-Din Mirzâ, Esmâ’il Khan Tuyserkâni, Gowhar Yazdi, and Manakji Pârsi—whom he denounced as johhâl (ignorant people) and sofahâ (demented people). He accused them of concocting “false fabrications” and “forming a tasteless and impertinent language under the pretext of resurrecting the clear language of our ancestors.” “No speaker of Persian, however,” he wrote, “has ever spoken or written in this language, which is incapable of communicating any sense and science.”26 Tâlebof approvingly elaborates on Mirzâ Âqâ Khan’s rejection of Jalâl-al-Din Mirzâ’s theory of “unsullied Persian.” Jalâl-al-Din Mirzâ and others of a similar persuasion were undoubtedly influenced by nationalist trends, but there was also an element of practical necessity given the need for the creation of new words to describe modern concepts. Jalâl-al-Din Mirzâ’s suggestion that an academy for coining new words was needed in Iran actually materialized decades later in the Farhangestân. Contrary to Tâlebof’s opinion, it did not prove impossible to coin new words. 25 Âkhundzâde to Jalâl-al-Din Mirzâ (15 June 1870), in Âkhundzâde, Alefbâ-ye jadid va Maktubât, pp. 171–72. 26 Mirzâ Âqâ Khân Kermâni, Âyine-ye Sekandari, ed. Z. Motarjem-al-Molk (Tehran, 1906), p. 577.

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In fact, it is this versatile ability to adapt that has ensured the survival of the Persian language. Had there been no such changes in the past one hundred years, Persian would have been swamped by an influx of foreign words that would have radically altered its syntax. Jalâl-al-Din Mirzâ’s other suggestion, to “purge” Persian of Ara­bic words, proved less practicable; Ara­bic words have been incorporated into Persian vocabulary for the past fourteen hundred years, are used by many eloquent Persian poets and writers, and are fully digested into the phonetics and grammatical and semantic structures of Persian. Many have acquired new meanings in the process. Their purging and replacement by unfamiliar, archaic, and dead words would have impoverished Persian vocabulary and destroyed its efficacy as a language—a fact of which Tâlebof was well aware.

4. Translations As already pointed out in a previous section, Abbâs Mirzâ, FathAli Shah’s crown prince, realized the need for acquiring Western science and technology; moreover, he was curious about the way European royalty ruled over their domains and the general conditions that prevailed in Europe. He ordered that biographies of such famous figures as Alexander the Great, Peter the Great, and Charles XII of Sweden to be translated into Persian. One of the first of these translations appeared in 1820, when Mirzâ Rezâ Tabrizi, known as Mirzâ Rezâ Mohandes, translated Voltaire’s History of Peter the Great as well as a section of Edward Gibbon’s The Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire. Decades later, Nâser-al-Din Shah also realized that understanding the material fabric of Western civilization would not be possible without some inkling of Western culture in general. The influential court translator in residence, Mohammad-Hasan Khan E’temâd-al-Saltane (1843–96), also believed that acquiring a knowledge of European languages was essential for the establishment of better relationships with other nations and as a key to a deeper 493

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understanding of their science, technology, and industry.27 This finally paved the way for the establishment of the Royal Office of Translation (Dâr al-tarjome-ye homâyuni) under the care of Mohammad-Hoseyn Forughi (Dhokâ’-al-Molk I, 1839–1907). Many of the works translated under the direction of Forughi that have reached us from the Qajar period are romantic or historical novels. The king and his entourage were anxious to learn about events within the European domain and also about the general social life in different countries. The translators of novels often considered their translations as a way of familiarizing and educating their readers by describing the historical and geographical situation in the outside world. The consent of the shah and the princes, who often commissioned the translations, was a decisive factor. For a variety of reasons, European novels found their way into Persian literature mainly through the medium of French. The majority of foreign teachers in the Dâr al-Fonun were French. Moreover, as the universal language of diplomacy at the time, French also emerged as the language of learning, science, and scholarship in Iran.28 It is also true that, as one scholar put it, freedom seeking Iranians of the time looked upon some of these works, particularly those of Alexandre Dumas père, as having revolutionary contents. They compared the heroism of the characters in such novels with the feelings and actions of those at home who also longed for liberty.29 Among his novels translated into Persian were Le Comte de Monte Cristo (published in Tabriz in 1891) and Les Trois Mousquetaires (3 vols., Tehran, 1898). Both were translated by Mohammad-Tâher Mirzâ (son of Abbâs Mirzâ). There were also remarkable works which stood out from the rest and remain literary classics noted for their artistic style, notably the translation of James Morier’s The Adventures of Hajji Baba of Ispahan by Mirzâ Habib Esfahâni (1835–93), who also translated 27 E’temâd-al-Saltane, al-Ma’ âther va’l-âthâr (reprint, Tehran, 1984), p. 127. 28 Christophe Balaÿ, La Genèse du roman persan moderne (Paris, 1998), p. 10, tr. M. Qavimi and N. Khattât as Peydâyesh-e român-e Fârsi (Tehran, 1998), p. 12. 29 Homâ Nâteq, Kâr-nâme-ye farhangi-ye Farangi dar Irân (1837–1921), (Tehran, 2000), p. 65.

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Alain-René Lesage’s Gil Blas and Molière’s Le Misanthrope (as Mardom-goriz). His Persian translation of Hajji Baba is regarded as one of the finest specimens of modern Persian prose. He showed much ingenuity by opting for colloquial Persian words and phrases wherever appropriate, reflecting idiomatic usages peculiar to various classes or groups. At the same time, he demonstrated the malleability of his style by following, wherever appropriate, the style of the best examples of traditional Persian prose. According to Mohammad-Taqi Bahâr: It sometimes resembles the Golestân of Sa’di in eloquence, fluency, elegance, and maturity. Elsewhere, it resembles European prose in visualizing various scenes, arousing the people, and exciting the reader. It is simple and technical at the same time. It accords both with the style of old masters of prose and with modern ways of expression. It is one of the masterpieces of the 19 th century.30

Mirzâ Habib Esfahâni’s success demonstrated that the Persian language had sufficient flexibility to convey successfully the latest works of fiction translated from other languages. Novels were not the only texts that were translated into Persian during the Qajar period. Works of great thinkers and philosophers also provided material for translation. Discours de la Méthode by Descartes, mentioned earlier, was translated by Rahim Musâ’i Hamadâni, often referred to as Mollâ Lâlezâr. Other notable examples include John Stuart Mill’s On Liberty published under the title of Manâfe’-e horriyat (Benefits of Liberty). The Meditations of Marcus Aurelius was translated as Pand-nâme-ye qeysar-e Rum by Abd-al-Rahim Tâlebof from its Russian translation and published in Istanbul in 1895. Apart from such translations, 19th century Iranian intellectuals produced works that had been deeply influenced by European thinkers. Mirzâ Fath-Ali Âkhundzâde expounded his materialistic ideas in his Maktubât-e Kamâl-al-Dowle (The Letters of Kamal-al-Dowle), published in 1862, while Mirzâ Âqâ Khan Kermâni was influenced by French and British empiricism in his own philosophical writings. 30 Moḥammad-Taqi Bahâr, Sabk-shenâsi yâ târikh‑e tatavvor‑e nathr‑e Fârsi (rev. ed., 3rd repr., 3 vols., Tehran, 1970), II, p. 366.

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Mirzâ Malkom Khan Nâzem-al-Dowle analyzed Iranian society and its problems in the light of the writings of Auguste Comte and John Stuart Mill. We should also mention Mirzâ Yusof Khan Mostashâral-Dowle Tabrizi (d. 1895) who, in his Yek kaleme (One Word), provided an abridged translation of the Napoleonic Code.31 The above mentioned works contributed to the development of Persian prose in the context of western philosophical discourse. Many decade later, these beginnings were consolidated through a number of scholarly works on the history of western philosophy by Mohammad-Ali Forughi (Dhokâ’-al-Molk II, 1877–1942) such as Dar hekmat-e Soqrât ba qalam-e Aflâtun (On the Philosophy of Socrates as Noted by Plato, 1925) and Seyr-e hekmat dar Orupâ (The Development of Philosophy in Europe), published in three volumes (1931–41). Translations had a beneficial effect on the Iranians’ awareness of culture, scholarship, and science in Europe and of material manifestations of European civilization. They also quickened the pace of a process that widened the scope of Persian prose as a vehicle for expressing new concepts and terminologies in a wide variety of disciplines in social sciences.

5. Travelogues Travelogues (safar-nâmes) are a long-established genre in Persian literature. One notable example is Safar-nâme-ye Nâser-e Khosrow (Travelogue of Nâser-Khosrow), dating from the 11th century. In more recent times, Nâser-al-Din Shah’s accounts of his travels in Iran and abroad, mostly extracted from his diaries, were lithographed or printed during his own lifetime and later. They were couched in simple straightforward diction, not very far from colloquial language, and often enlivened by a witty aside. His style was emulated by Iranian envoys and other politicians of the time. Other travelogues of the Qajar period, describing the impressions of Iranians travelling abroad, provide us with many examples 31 Fereydun Âdamiyyat, Fekr-e âzâdi va moqaddame-ye nahzat-e mashrutiyyat (Tehran, 1951), pp. 186–98.

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of the way the West was perceived by them and their reactions to the manners and mores of different cities and countries in Europe. An early example is Masir-e Tâlebi fi belâd al-Afranji (Calcutta, 1813), better known as Safar-nâme-ye Abu Tâleb Landani (Travelogue of Abu-Tâleb of London). The travelogue described the codes of etiquette and the way men and women conducted themselves in social gatherings in England in fluent, attractive prose. He also found his way into the lodges of the Freemasons. Safar-nâme-ye Mirzâ Sâleh Shirâzi (Travelogue of Mirzâ Sâleh Shirâzi) was compiled by one of a group of five students sent to Britain on the orders of Abbâs Mirzâ. There are also a number of other travelogues including the Safar-nâme (an account of a pilgrimage to Mecca and trip around the world) of Mirzâ Ali Khan Amin-alDowle (1844–1904), the Safar-nâme of Hâjji Pirzâde (ca. 1835–1904), and the Khâterât (Memoirs) of Hâj Sayyâh (Mirza Mohammad-Ali Mahallâti, 1836–1925). In their accounts of visits to other countries, these writers usually have a double perspective as they simultaneously compare the conditions that they witness abroad with those that they had encountered at home, usually to the detriment of the latter, lamenting the backwardness and lack of freedom in Iran. There were also examples of fictious travelogues whose social and political content were conveyed obliquely through imaginary other worlds. In this category, one of the most notable is Siyâhat-nâme-ye Ebrâhim-Beyk (Ebrâhim-Beyk’s Travelogue). In the third volume of this work (published in 1909, see below), Zeynal-Âbedin Marâghe’i describes the spiritual visit of one of his characters to the other world. There are other works in which writers roam in the real world by way of imagining or rather satirizing, through the eyes of a bemused observer, the acrimonious meeting of different classes and professions including the clergy and the members of the bureaucracy deriding each other’s conduct and profession as in Malkom Khan’s Sayyâhi guyad (A Traveller Relates) as well as in its second part on the Ferqe-ye kajbinân (The Squint-Eyed Sect), which pokes fun at the convoluted and vapid style of rhymsters masquerading as poets.32 32

Mirza Malkom Khan, Rasâ’el, pp. 187–212.

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6. Memoirs Closely related and sometimes indistinguishable from travelogues, memoirs and diaries constitute another genre in modern Persian prose strongly influenced by European models, including those produced by foreign envoys or travellers who had visited Iran in the 19th century and before. The first example of this genre in modern Persian prose, Ruz-nâme-ye khâterât-e E’temâd-al-Saltane (Journal of the Memoirs of E’temâd-al-Saltane), was written by the already mentioned Mohammad-Hasan Khan E’temâd-al-Saltane.33 Also closely related to diaries as a genre and almost indistinguishable from them are autobiographies. Notable examples include Sharh-e zendegâni-ye man yâ Târikh-e ejtemâ’i va edâri-ye dowre-ye- Qâjâriye (An Account of My Life or the Social and Administrative History of the Qajar Period) by Abd-Allâh Mostowfi (1876–1950) and Hayât-e Yahyâ (Yahyâ’s Life) by the writer and poet Yahyâ Dowlatâbâdi (1863–1939). These two works, especially the former, are as important for their historical and political content as for their purely literary merits. Mostowfi’s work, in particular, is written in a clear and unaffected prose. The poet and the musician Âref Qazvini (1882–1934)’s memoirs, and particularly his posthumously published Khâterât-e Âref-e Qazvini (Memoirs of Âref Qazvini) are a graphic account of his last unhappy years spent in seclusion.34 Writer and politician Ali Dashti (1894–1982) produced Ayyâm‑e mahbas (Prison Days) in 1921. Dashti’s simple prose in this work, as well as in his critical appreciation of several classical poets that he published in different volumes, influenced the style of Iranian writers and journalists. In the words of the eminent scholar Jalâlal-Din Homâ’i, “With the publication of Ayyâm-e mahbas a new school was established in the realm of prose.”35 33 Ahmad Ashraf, “Sâbeqe-ye khâtere-negâri dar Irân,” Irân-nâme 15/1 (1996), pp. 5–25. 34 Aref Qazvini, Khâterât-e Âref Qazvini, ed. Mehdi Nur-Mohammadi (Tehran, 2009). 35 Iraj Parsinejad, Ali Dashti va naqd-e adabi (Tehran, 2008), p. 14.

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7. Forerunners of Novels Among the forerunners of modern novelists are the already mentioned Zeyn-al-Âbedin Marâghe’i and Abd-al-Rahim Tâlebof Tabrizi. They both laid heavy stress on the pedagogic aspect of their work and conceived of themselves as social reformers. Siyâhat-nâme-ye Ebrâhim-Beyk (Ebrâhim Beyk’s Travelogue) by Zeyn-al-Âbedin Marâghe’i was published in three volumes: the first in Cairo without a date, the second in 1905 in Calcutta, and the third in 1909 in Istanbul. As Edward Granville Browne points out, “The hero and his adventures are, of course, fictitious, but there is little exaggeration, and they might well be actual.”36 It criticizes the corrupt and despotic political establishment, the high level of illiteracy and superstitious beliefs, and the hypocrisy of the religious establishment. The prose is, here and there, affected by the use of unfamiliar words indicating that the author had lived in a Turkish-speaking country for a long time. The first volume has a more eloquent style of Persian, leading one to suspect that perhaps it was edited by another writer. In his introduction to the third volume, the author emphasizes the importance of simple writing: What is appropriate for our time is simple writing. Henceforth the literary men of Iran should present to high and low alike patriotism in verse and prose, in clear words and simple language, and initiate, inspire, and encourage a simple style. It is my opinion that Iran’s men of letters are capable of all forms of writing a hundred times better than the present book, including the secret of simple writing. God willing, we shall see it in the future.37

It should be noted that while Marâghe’i was, in his emphasis on simple writing, under the influence of Malkom Khan and his work Sayyâhi guyad, his own style of writing influenced subsequent writers including Ali-Akbar Dehkhodâ (1879–1956) in works such as Charand-o parand (Stuff and Nonsense), and Mohammad Ali Jamâlzâde (1892–1997) in his own seminal book of short stories Yeki bud yeki nabud (Once Upon a Time). 36 LHP, IV, p. 467. 37 Zeyn-al-Âbedin Marâghe’i, Siyâhat-nâme-ye Ebrâhim-Beyk, III, p. 29.

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Masâlek al-mohsenin (Principles of the Beneficent) by Mirzâ Abd-al-Rahim Tâlebof (1833–1911) is written in the form of the travelogue of an imaginary group of trekkers climbing to the summit of Mount Damâvand. It embodies Tâlebof’s critical, social, and philosophical ideas.38 Here, Tâlebof discusses conditions of the Iranian society and investigates the causes of its decline, making some critical remarks on literature, including the mindless repetition of traditional themes. Tâlebof’s other book, Ketâb-e Ahmad (The Book of Ahmad), also known as Safine-ye Tâlebi (Tâlebi’s Anthology), published in two volumes in Istanbul (1893–94), is a hybrid, part novel and part a pedagogic tract. It is organized around a dialogue between Ahmad, the author’s imaginary son, who raises many questions about scientific discoveries and advances of his time, and the author himself, who offers enlightening answers in response. These questions and answers may appear rudimentary, but in their time they were significant for their clear and simple exposition of scientific concepts, a task at which Tâlebof was a pioneering figure in Iran. Tâlebof tells us that he was inspired to write this book by Jean-Jacques Rousseau’s Émile and modelled the oriental Ahmad on his western counterpart.

8. Historical Novels The period between 1909 and 1921, spanning the years between the Constitutional Revolution and Rezâ Khan’s coup d’etat, was also the era when the historical novel was born and took shape. 38 It is said that Masâlek al-mohsenin is an adaptation of The Last Day of a Philosopher by the English chemist and physicist Sir Humphry Davy (1778– 1829). The book narrates Davy’s travels in Italy (1814–18) and discusses the formation of the universe, elemental compounds, the passage of time, and the rise and fall of nations in the from of a dialogue. Camille Flammarion (1842–1925), the French astronomer, chanced upon his book and translated and published it in 1872. Tâlebof substitutes a hike to Mt. Damavand for Davy’s trip to Italy. On Talebof’s familiarity with the thought and works of Flammarion, see Rashid Yâsami, Irânshahr 2/5–6 (1922), pp. 283–97.

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From a literary point of view, historical novels in Persian familiarized Iranians with the form, structure, and contents of a new literary genre: the novel. They were also instrumental in opening the gates to other genres. Yet another result was that they contributed to the process of simplifying contemporary Persian prose. In short, they played an important role in the emergence and development of modern Persian literature.39 The primary preoccupation of writers in this period was to lavish praise on the glorious days of pre-Islamic Iran and to select themes that would arouse patriotic feelings. This concern also accorded well with the policies and desires of the central government.40 The nascent Persian historical novels were also deeply influenced by translations of historical novels, such as Les Aventures de Télémaque by François Fénelon, translated by Ali Khan Nâzem-alOlum as Sargozasht-e Telemak (1888); The Brass Statue or the Virgin’s Kiss by George W. M. Reynolds, translated by Mirza Hoseyn Khan Hâ’eri (Sadr-al-Ma’âli) as Buse-ye adhrâ and published in 1909. Like their European counterparts, they aimed not only to entertain, but also to instruct their readership by introducing notions of freedom and justice. There was also, as stated above, much glorification of the past history of Iran, particularly the pre-Islamic period, depicting it as a golden age and a source of national pride for its readers. Works of the first historical writers, such as Mohammad-Bâqer Mirzâ Khosravi’s (1850–1919)’s Shams va toghrâ, published along with two other novels in Kermânshâh in 1910; Shaikh Musâ Nasri Hamadâni’s (b. 1882) Eshq va saltanat yâ Fotuhât-e Kurosh-e kabir (Love and Kingship or Victories of Cyrus the Great; the first part of a triology published in Hamadân in 1919), Hasan Khan Badi’s (1872– 1937) Dâstân-e Bâstân yâ Sargozasht-e Kurosh (Ancient Story or the Life of Cyrus; published in 1920), Abd-al-Hosayn San’atizâde Kermâni’s (1895–1973)’s Dâm-gostarân yâ Enteqâm-khwâhân-e Mazdak (The Ensnarers or the Avengers of Mazdak; published 39 Mohammad Gholâm, Român-e târikhi: seyr va naqd va tahlil-e românhâ-ye târikhi-ye Fârsi (Tehran, 2002). 40 Gholâm, Român-e târikhi.

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in two parts, Bombay, 1921, and Tehran, 1925), and several other novels including Dâstân-e Mâni-ye naqqâsh (Story of Mani the Painter, 1926) all enjoyed a wide readership. In addition to the above, many other historical novels were published by other writers during the same period. Some of these suffered from careless anachronistic observations, giving their work an unintended comical effect.41 However, what is truly lacking in historical novels of this period is an accurate portrayal of the lives of ordinary people in times past. Writers of these novels are primarily concerned with the battles, heroism and courage of kings, grand viziers, and commanders. Moreover, few of them attempted to adopt their style and diction to fit the period depicted, thereby offering a more convincingly realistic portrayal of the era in their narrative.

9. Early Novels with Social Themes It was partly under the influence of novels translated from European languages, as well as a growing market of urban middle class readers in the two decades between 1921 and 1941 that the social novel emerged. The subject matter was primarily people’s economic problems, lives of the deprived, the oppression exercised by the ruling élite, and the corruption of the same élite. However, they were often written in highly sentimental language, designed to stir up pity and compassion in the reader. According to the Marxist critic Ehsân Tabari (1917–89): When Hedâyat appeared and was developing his prodigious talents in the gloom of obscurity, writing in Iran was confined to writing artificial stories with sham emotions and vapid phraseology. The main theme of these stories consisted of the perfidy of the man and the deceit of the woman and her ending up in a brothel and a fervid defense of the tender emotions of these prostitutes by such 41

Sâdeq Hedâyat wrote an amusing parody of this style, Dâstân-e bâstâni yâ român-e târikhi (Ancient Story or Historical Novel); see Iraq Parsinejad, A History of Literary Criticism in Iran (1866–1951), pp. 221–22.

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THE DEVELOPMENT OF MODERN PERSIAN PROSE a phraseology which represented them as literary scholars and philosophers in the course of a handful of trite and ridiculous sentences that were written in large coarse print. Under the ghastly influence of the translations of the most hackneyed European stories Roman de Boulevard, like detective stories of Maurice Leblanc and adventures of Michel Zevaco, Iranian imitators had started to spin out their most incongruous fantasies. The mind and taste of Iranian readers were blinded and destroyed by this trash and cliché. It is as if a person encountered nothing interesting and believable in his life, or that in the life of a person there were no more important events than loving a young girl and being unfaithful to her and the woman’s inevitable turn to prostitution.42

The journalistic prose utilized in these social novels was characterized by a slapdash style and poor grammar. Majma’-e divânegân (Assembly of Mad People), published in 1924, was one of the first examples of the social novel in Iran. The author was the already mentioned Abd-al-Hoseyn San’atizâde Kermâni. It has been referred to as the first Persian novel that was based on the idea of Utopia.43 Shahrnâz (1923) was written by Yahyâ Dowlatâbâdi, whom we have also mentioned in another context. In the preface, he points out that he wrote the novel in Istanbul in 1916 during World War I and took his characters from people he had encountered in real life, but this of course could in itself be a novelist’s fictional device to add luster to a sentimental novel. Tehrân-e makhuf (The Horrific Tehran) was written by Mortazâ Moshfeq Kâzemi (1902–1978), first as a serialized novel and later published in two volumes in 1923. This, too, depicts a grim picture of the city and the plight of its citizens, particularly the precarious position of women. It remains his most memorable work, although several other novels followed suit. Abbâs Khalili (1895–1971) also produced three sentimental novels couched in a sensational tone depicting the plight of women: Ruzegâr-e siyâh (Bleak Times, 1924), Enteqâm (Revenge, 1925), and Asrâr-e shab (Nocturnal Secrets, 1926). 42 In Mâh-nâme-ye Mardom 10 (1947), p. 44. 43 Yahyâ Âryanpur, Az Sabâ tâ Nimâ, II, p. 274.

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From among writers of social novels in the subsequent period, one can name Mohammad Mas’ud (1901–47), who sometimes used the pseudonym M. Dehâti (M. Villager). He produced works such as Tafrihât-e shab (Night Amusements), Dar talâsh-e ma’âsh (In Search of a Livelihood), Ashraf-e makhluqât (The Most Exalted of Creatures) and Golhâ’i ke dar jahannam miruyand (Flowers that Grow in Hell). Mas’ud was also a journalist and employed outspoken and often scurrilous language in his newspaper Mard-e emruz (Today’s Man). He criticized the ruling establishment vehemently and with fearless outspokenness until finally falling victim to a political assassination. Jahângir Jalili (1909–39) produced novels such as Man ham gerye kardam (I, Too, Cried) in 1934 and Kârvân-e eshq (Procession of Love) in 1938, in which he utilized sentimental language to depict the way women are drawn to prostitution. Novels produced by Mohammad Mas’ud and Jahângir Jalili unveil the daily and nocturnal lives of men and women of the urban middle class. They do not give us much by way of the art of writing or effective presentation of characters. These are works strewn with plenty of rhetoric and ample preaching. By way of the unkindest of judgments, these works can be referred to as “brothel literature.” As Sâdeq Hedâyat puts it, “… to cater for the taste of a bunch of gutter whores, they have bandied a few hollow, graceless, and grammatically wrong sentences.”44 The aim was to arouse the readers’ sentiments without any concern for the quality of the prose, which overflowed with grammatical slips, imitations from the colloquial language mixed up with random references to classical Persian poetry, and translations of European prose and verse.

10. Short Stories, Novellas, and Novels of the First Half of the Twentieth Century Like novels, short stories constitute a new genre in Persian prose. The first example of this was Yeki bud yeki nabud (Once Upon a 44 Sâdeq Hedâyat, Vagh vagh sâhâb (Tehran, 1962), p. 152.

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Time) by Mohammad-Ali Jamâlzâde, published in Berlin in 1921. The six short stories in the book primarily depict the ignorance, disorder, and backwardness of Iranian society, a theme already explored in social novels discussed earlier. What distinguishes Jamâlzâde’s work is the use of a simple style of Persian replete with many familiar proverbial and idiomatic phrases. It also had a precedent in the already cited satirical columns by Ali-Akbar Dehkhodâ under the title Charand-o parand, which appeared in the newspaper Sur-e Esrâfil (1906–7). In these writings, Dehkhodâ had utilized colloquial Persian and idiomatic expressions prevalent among ordinary people. In his Fârsi shekar ast (Persian is [as Sweet as] Sugar), one of the stories in Yeki bud yeki nabud, Jamâlzâde, like Dehkhodâ, pokes fun at the tortuous artificiality of so-called “erudite” writing. However, the most important role played by Jamâlzâde was to create distinct set-types as characters, each with his own sociolect. This marked a departure from narratives in classical Persian in which no such distinctions were made and writers and poets put their own words into the mouths of their various characters without adapting them to fit their mode of expression. As a result, the language of people belonging to various classes and strata was merely a replica of the monotonous language of the narrator.45 The variety of modern Persian prose can further seen in a great number of novels, as well as in long and short stories, produced by Iranian writers in the first half of the twentieth century: Sa’id Nafisi (1895–1966) produced the novels Nime-râh-e behesht (Half Way to Paradise) and Farangis as well as collections of short stories under the titles of Setâregân-e siyâh (Black Stars) and Mâh-e Nakhshab (The Moon of Nakhshab), exhibiting a variety of genres, historical, romantic, and satirical. His Nime-râh-e behesht is a political satire in which some members of the ruling establishment are criticized within the framework of a novel, while Farangis is a weak sensational love story. Mohammad Hejâzi (1900–1974) produced the novels Homâ (1927), Parichehr (1929), and Zibâ (1931), all three, as indicated by 45 Khânlari, “Nathr dar dowre-ye akhir,” pp. 156–57.

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the titles, concerned with the fate and fortune of women and the account of their love affairs and ambitions in an upper middle class society. Zibâ is generally considered as his finest novel. It documents the political and administrative situation during the Constitutional Revolution, and can be looked upon as an indictment of the ruling bureaucracy.46 In most of Hejâzi’s works (long or short stories and literary essays) the aim is to nurture human sentiments and to preach morality. In his view, nature is where sentiments and, above all, love are nurtured and society constitutes the location for morality and behavior to manifest themselves. This sentimental relationship with nature and belief in its effect on the transformation of human mentality and behavior are new phenomena influenced by German and French romanticism. Works such as Goethe’s Die Leiden des jungen Werthers (The Sufferings of the Young Werther), Chateaubriand’s René, and Lamartine’s poems have influenced Hejâzi.47 This is accompanied by the influence of classical Persian poetry on the Persian prose of Hejâzi as well as those of his contemporaries such as Sa’id Nafisi and Ali Dashti. Ali Dashti, author of the previously mentioned Ayyâm-e mahbas, also produced a number of love stories: Fetne (1949), Jâdu (1949), and Hendu (1955). Dashti’s stories depict the narrator’s relationship with pretty, unbridled women from amongst the élite. In the stories such as Fetne, Jâdu, and Hendu, the principal character is a capricious woman. The man facing these women is a womanizer who shares the same outlook and follows the same codes of behaviour. Thus, the stories form a stage on which similar plays are re-enacted, in a fluent prose. The writer uses words strictly to convey specific meanings, although he sometimes utilizes French words for no apparent reason, as it would not have been difficult to find Persian equivalents.48 The grand master of the Persian short story is, however, Sâdeq Hedâyat (1903–1951), who deeply influenced subsequent writers. In his collections of short stories Zende be gur (Buried Alive, 46 Hassan Kamshad, Modern Persian Prose (Cambridge, 1966), pp. 73–84. 47 Shâhrokh Meskub, Dâstân-e adabiyyât va sargozasht-e ejtemâ’ (Tehran, 1994), pp. 159–203. 48 Iraj Parsinejad, Khânlari va naqd-e adabi (Tehran, 2008), pp. 186–90.

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1930), Se qatre khun (Three Drops of Blood, 1932), Sâye rowshan (Twilight, 1933), Sag-e velgard (Stray Dog, 1943), Alaviye Khânom (1944), and the long novella Hâji Âqâ (1945), he adopts various styles of language to depict the mentalities of people belonging to different classes of Iranian society. In this context, Hedâyat departs from Jamâlzâde. While Jamâlzâde’s works overflow with expressions, proverbs, and witticisms drawn from colloquial language, in Hedâyat’s writing the style of language allotted to each character reflects his or her characteristics in an unforced way. His masterpiece, Buf-e-kur (The Blind Owl), is a short melancholic novella of approximately 22,000 words two parts which are formally related through the closing pages of each part. The theme of the story yields freely to numerous interpretations from socio-­ philosophical (reincarnation and metamorphosis, thoughts attributed to Khayyâm and Buddha, death, reflections on political repression), historical (relating to pre-Islamic as well as Iran after the advent of Islam), psychological (the Oedipus complex in Freudian and the anima-animus polarization in Jungian psychologies), and formalistic view-points. This multiplicity of readings is one of the factors which have contributed to the continued relevance of the work up to the present. The narrator of the story is a painter who intends to give his account of a strange series of events. He tells of wounds “that slowly gnaw away at the soul in loneliness.” Hedâyat’s success lies in his creation of a world afloat between dream and reality, which enables the narrator to give his dreams a touch of reality and unite the world of his paintings (or nightmares) with the world of the story he is trying to write. Bozorg Alavi (1904–1997) wrote several collections of short stories including Chamedân (Suitcase, 1934), and Nâme-hâ (Letters, 1951), as well as novels. His most celebrated novel was Cheshm-hâyash (Her Eyes, 1952), describing the love affair of a gifted painter opposed to the regime of Rezâ Shah (1924–41) and an educated gorl from an aristocratic backgoround. With the exception of a few early short stories with romantic themes, the theme in Alavi’s works is primarily inclined towards critical realism. Two of his works belong to the genre of “prison literature”: Varaq-pâre-hâ-ye zendân (Scrap-papers from Prison, 1941) and Panjâh o se nafar (The 507

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Fifty-Three, 1943). He describes the arrest and the hardship suffered by members of the Marxist Tudeh party in jail during Rezâ Shah’s reign. His books were banned in Iran from 1953 to 1979. Chronological divisions by decades inevitably lead to arbitrary disjunctures, since many writers produce works over a long stretch of time. Many significant writers of the 20th century, including Behâzin (Mahmud E’temâdzâde, 1915–2006), Sâdeq Chubak (1916– 98), Jalâl Âl-e Ahmad (1923–69), and Simin Dâneshvar (1921–2012), began their literary career in the first half of the twentieth century, but their most significant works appeared in the second half of the 20th century, along with a new wave of novelists who were even keener to experiment with different narrative techniques, drawing on their contemporaries in the West with their exeriments in nouvelle roman and magic realism, as well as taking a retrospective look at literature at home, and particularly at Persian narrative prose from earlier centuries.

11. Plays Another new genre in Persian prose was that of theatrical plays. This took the form of an adaptation of European theatrical art. Mirzâ Fath-Ali Âkhundzâde was the forerunner in the art of writing theatrical plays in Iran. Some scholars even recognize him as the progenitor of the art of writing plays in European style in the entirety of Asia.49 From 1850 to 1856, Âkhundzâde wrote a collection of six comedies in Turkish. The overall title was Tamthilât (Allegories). Subsequently, the plays were translated from Turkish into Russian by the playwright himself and from Turkish into Persian by Mirzâ Mohammad-Ja’far Qarache-Dâghi. In a note on Tamthilât, Âkhundzâde maintains that he has laid the foundation of writing comedies in the Islamic world: “This type of unfamiliar composition, with a witty, pleasant appearance and a message of advice and guidance, did not exist in the world of 49 Fereydun Âdamiyyat, Andishe-hâ-ye Mirzâ Fath-Ali Khân Âkhundzâde (Tehran, 1990), p. 32.

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Islam. It was I who introduced it.”50 His claim is justified. Before him, there was only the precedent of the ta’ziye performances (religious passion play). Through his plays, Âkhundzâde introduced a new genre for the expression of new ideas. In this genre, a human being is introduced in the form of a “character” in the play. Unlike what we see in classical Persian literature, where the individual human being is part of the general order of creation and stands outside the world, this new individual is inside the world. He is a social creature. Furthermore, because of his individuality and his particular identity he is, in substance, different from characters in the old tales of classical Persian literature.51 Another playwright of the time, Mirzâ Âqâ Tabrizi (c. 1820s-90s), tried to follow in the footsteps of Âkhundzâde, although the latter, in a long and critical letter, implied that as a dramatist, Mirzâ Âqâ Tabrizi was still a novice and offered him a detailed criticism of the several plays that Mirzâ Âqâ Tabrizi had written in the 1870s, each with a an extremely long explicatory title, the shortest being Tariqe-ye hokumat-e Zamân Khân Borujerdi va sargozasht-e ân ayâm (Zamân Khan Borujerdi’s Ways as a Governor and an Account of Those Days). Overall, these plays poke fun at the chaos and arbitrary rule in the late Qajar period, in a series of satirical dialogues. In the period between the Constitutional Revolution (1905– 1909) and 1921, when Rezâ Khan ascended to power, two playwrights distinguished themselves: Mortazâ-Qoli Khan Mo’ayyedal-Mamâlek Fekri Ershâd (1870–1917) and Mirzâ Ahmad Mahmudi Kamâl-al-Vezâre (1874–1930). Both wrote plays following western models. Fekri produced and staged some of his own plays including Sirus-e kabir (Cyrus the Great), Sargozasht-e yek ruz-nâmenegâr (Life Story of a Journalist), Eshq dar piri (Love at Old Age) and Hokkâm-e qadim va hokkâm-e jadid (Rulers of the Past and Rulers of the Present Time). Mahmudi had studied in France and founded the first theatrical establishment in Iran, Komedi-ye Irân, under the proprietorship of 50 Âkhundzâde, Alefbâ-ye jadid va Maktubât, p. 74. 51 Âkhundzâde, Maktab-e Tabriz va mabâni-ye tajaddod-khwâhi, II, p. 365.

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Seyyed Ali Nasr (1891–1961). Among other things, he wrote Hâji Riyâ’i Khân yâ Târtuf-e sharqi (Hajji the Hypocrite or the Oriental Tartuffe, 1917) and Ostâd Noruz-e pine-duz (Master Noruz the Cobbler, 1919). The former, as the title implies, was influenced by Molière, while the latter depicted the lives of ordinary people. It was a period piece using slang and colloquial words in its dialogues. During the years 1921–41, when the state under Rezâ Shah exercised a strict control over the arts and cultural activity, theatrical plays were limited to a few topics, including nationalistic or patriotic scenarios, mainly inspired by the history of pre-Islamic Iran. In this category, plays were produced by Sâdeq Hedâyat and Dhabih Behruz. Hedâyat wrote two plays on this theme: Parvin dokhtar-e Sâsân (Parvin the Daughter of Sâsân, 1928) and Mâziyâr (1933). In these plays Iranian patriotic feelings and anti-Arabism are more prominent than artistic or literary values. The fiercely iconoclastic author Dhabih Behruz (1889–1971) wrote the play Jijak Ali Shâh (1921), a satirical work in which the court of Nâser-al-Din Shah is portrayed with a critical approach. In this work, his language overflows with Persian colloquial expressions, in accordance with the language used by each character. Behruz also wrote several plays including a single-act play on the life of Ferdowsi, Shab-e Ferdowsi (1934). It was written in an idiosyncratically archaic style, in line with his own notions of an idealized pristine Persian culture devoid of foreign imports and creeds. There were also a few comic plays during this period. The purpose behind them was to criticize the overall social situation without invoking the wrath of the regime. The most notable of these was the play Ja’ far Khân az farang âmade (Ja’far Khan Freshly Arrived from Europe), by Hasan Moqaddam (1897–1925) in 1921. The author had been educated in Switzerland since adolescence. Like Ali-Akbar Dehkhodâ and Mohammad-Ali Jamâlzâde, he considered the Persian language to be one of the principal elements of Iranian identity. He utilized a satirical style to criticize the risible form of Persian used by young westernized people. The kind of Persian presented in this play, mixed as it is with French words and expressions, is reminiscent of Jamâlzâde’s Fârsi shekar ast. 510

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12. Literary Criticism In its strict academic sense, as prevalent in the West, literary criticism is a new genre in Persian literature. It is not to be found in classical Persian literature. What can be found by way of criticism in the realm of classical Persian literature is fault-finding with the composition of poems or nit-picking, interspersed with jokes and witticisms. There is not much analyzing the subject matter or judgment of the inherent value of literary works. The pioneers of literary criticism in the 19th century have already been introduced in the current chapter and in different sections, as they also were highly influential in other aspects of the development of prose in the modern period. Mirzâ Fath-Ali Âkhundzâde was the figure who laid the foundation stone of literary criticism in Iran. He also wrote a number of articles, letters and essays in which he expressed the fundaments of his viewpoint. Influenced by his contemporary Russian writers and critics, he replaced nit-picking and caviling in the field of diction with a critical appraisal of contents, and in the process changed the traditional basis for literary criticism. Up to then, what could be called criticism was limited to purely literary aesthetics. He broke out of this shell and embarked upon evaluating and criticizing the subject matter and the way it was presented. He emphasized the importance of the intellectual, social, and moral dimensions of literary works. He can also be credited with being the first Iranian who paid attention to the social duties or commitments of writers and poets vis-à-vis the society. He believed that literature was a means of elevating social ethics. In his literary criticism, he set himself the task of detailed evaluation of important literary works of the past and of his time. His work was not flawless, but the importance of his work lay in encouraging future critics so that they would not shy away from criticizing famous, important literary works. After Âkhundzâde, literary critics wrote numerous books and articles in which they confronted the literary practices of their time that were based on imitation, repetition, word-play, and sycophancy. Among them was Mirzâ Âqâ Khan Kermâni, an energetic 511

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and courageous writer and historian, who produced the unfinished and already cited pamphlet Reyhân-e bustân-afruz (Garden-Illuminating Fragrant Herb), in which he expressed his critical opinions about Persian literature. Mirzâ Malkom Khan, whose prose and language we analyzed in the opening chapter, was a writer, sociologist and political scientist who also criticized political, religious, and literary figures who had contributed to the practice of producing pompous, convoluted speech and writing. Zeyn-alÂbedin Marâghe’i, a writer as well as a social thinker, was another such critic whose works and ideas we have elaborated earlier. Although Mirzâ Abd-al-Rahim Tâlebof, a reformist and a critic, did not produce anything specific in the field of literary criticism, we can find some criticism of Persian prose and poetry implicit in his works. The historian and linguist Ahmad Kasravi (1890–1946) had some extreme views on classical and modern Persian literature. Nevertheless, one can find a critical approach in his assessments. The novelist Sâdeq Hedâyat ventured into literary criticism too. His critiques are a testimony to his sharp intellect.52 An overall survey of the works of Iranian literary critics shows us things that they all have in common: their attention to the idea of modernity and progress, their emotional attachment to Iran and to their compatriots, their concern for Persian language and their commitment to the correct usage of simple, straightforward Persian. Nonetheless, some of them occasionally deviated from the path of moderation. Sometimes, they used modern intellectual criteria in order to pass anachronistically unfavorable judgments on the classical Persian literary heritage. At other times, they have expected poets and writers to assume the role of missionaries vis-àvis public opinion and restrict their task to preaching moral, philosophical, and patriotic values. However, all things considered, their views in the realm of literary criticism have maintained their novelty and a degree of authenticity even to this day.

52 Parsinejad, A History of Literary Criticism in Iran, pp. 197–263.

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13. The Press and Journalism The introduction of printing and the advent of journalism in Iran have been important factors in the regeneration of modern Persian prose. Journalism gave rise to a new prose genre. This prose was used to express literary, social, and scientific concepts of the modern world to Iranians, and it influenced and transformed their thoughts. Moreover, journalism contributed to the growth of other new genres with few precedents in Persian literature: stories, novels, plays, satire, essays, and literary criticism. When Mirzâ Malkom Khan began to publish the newspaper Qânun (The Law) in London in 1890, he used a carefully crafted form of Persian prose that was able to express modern Western concepts in the fields of law, politics, and social science. When Jamâlzâde introduced short stories into the realm of Persian literature and when Dehkhodâ did the same with political satire, both of them used the press as their medium. Serials, with historical, political, or literary content, were also offered to Iranians through the press. The same can be said about certain types of essays. During the time of the constitutional struggle, Persian literature, its political and openly tendentious brands in particular, was presented to the reader not in books or divâns, but through newspapers and magazines. Yet, despite the great variety of new genres in Persian prose created by the press, the haste to meet publication deadlines, as well as the journalists’ lack of training, affected the clarity and eloquence of their prose. Opaque or overly literal translations from English, French, Turkish, and Ara­bic produced an impoverished prose style. Nevertheless, as most newspaper readers had just acquired literacy, they overlooked such shortcomings. It sufficed for the topic to be comprehensible. Despite these shortcomings, the press constituted the best literary mirror of the time.53 The earliest Persian journals, especially those published outside Iran, enjoyed liberty and could, therefore, be more outspoken in their struggle against despotism, oppression and ignorance prevalent in Iran. Literary works offered by these publications reflected 53 HIL, p. 365.

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the aspirations, the needs, and the thoughts of Iranian poets and writers in exile. Hassan Kamshad puts it in this way: [T]he papers edited abroad introduced the most startling new literary forms and exerted real ideological influence on the general public in Persia. These were generally prohibited in the country, but were read clandestinely.54

As more schools opened and more people acquired literacy in Iran, more printing houses were established, and the age of Iranian journalism began. Here, we do not intend to offer a history of Iranian journals or Iranian journalism. Nonetheless, attention to newspapers is important as they have influenced modern Persian prose and as some of them have been conduits for creative writing. The first Iranian newspapers were referred to by a loanword, gâzet, derived from the West (gazeta, gazette) or by the Persian term kâghaz-e akhbâr, a literal translation of the English word newspaper. In 1837, during the reign of Mohammad Shah (1834– 48), Mirzâ Mohammad Sâleh Shirâzi, who had become acquainted with printing technology in Britain, produced the first newspaper in Iran. It was published without a title but was later referred to as Akhbâr va vâqâye‘ or Kâghaz-e akhbâr. Newspapers devoted to specific topics emerged later on: Merrikh (Mars) began to be published in 1917, dealing with military matters. Elmi (Scientific) emerged in 1918; As its title suggests, it dealt with scientific topics in the fields of physics and mathematics. The Persian newspapers published abroad were perhaps of even greater significance, as they played a pivotal role in the enlightenment of the Iranians and in informing them of political and social developments outside Iran. One of the most significant was the newspaper Akhtar (Star), the first issue of which, in 1875, was printed in Istanbul, with Âqâ Mohammad-Tâher Tabrizi as editor, and enjoyed contributions from such well-known intellectuals as Mirzâ Âqâ Khan Kermâni and Shaikh Ahmad Ruhi. The newspaper was widely read throughout the Near and Middle East as well as in India, and achieved such fame that it became almost 54 Kamshad, Modern Persian Prose Literature, p. 29.

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synonymous with the new high-brow and progressive press and people referred to regular newspaper readers as Akhtari-madhhab (followers of the cult of Akhtar).55 Qânun was another influential newspaper; it was first published in London on 20 Februrary 1890 by Mirzâ Malkom Khan. Jan Rypka praises Qânun as “a paper which for fifteen years was a model for the journalists of the Constitution.”56 And according to Browne, the paper could be regarded as one of the main factors that gave rise to political and literary renaissance in Iran.57 This should not, however, divert attention from the cumulative impact of the emergence of other influential newspapers at the end of the 19th and the beginning of the 20th century, both in Iran and abroad, including such influential papers as the weekly Habl-al-Matin (lit. Strong Cord, a Qur’anic reference), which began publication in Calcutta in December 1893; Thorayyâ (The Pleiades), a weekly paper printed in Cairo beginning in 1898; and Sur-e Esrâfil (The Trumpet-Call of Esrâfil), another weekly that began publication in Tehran in 1907, under the ownership of its first editor Mirza Jahângir Khan Shirâzi. More relevant, perhaps, in the context of the development of prose and literary criticism are the magazines and periodicals of the time with a focus on literature and cultural topics. The poet-laureate Mohammad-Taqi Bahâr began publishing the magazine Dâneshkade (Academy) in 1918. A number of poets and writers co-operated with him. He introduced some European works of literature and urged poets to express new ideas in the mould of classical poetry. The overall policy of Dâneshkade was to preserve old traditions of Persian literature while embracing a cautious modernism.58 The magazine lasted for no more than a year. Bahâr replaced it with the weekly Nowbahâr in 1925. Like its predecessor, the magazine offered socio-political articles as well as literary texts, 55

E. G. Browne, The Press and Poetry of Modern Persia (Cambridge, 1914), pp. 17–18. 56 HIL, p. 366. 57 Browne, Press and Poetry, p. 19. 58 Parsinejad, Bahâr va naqd-e adabi, pp. 39–43.

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including translations from European novels and poems. It offered modern works of verse and prose. Armaghân (The Gift) was published as a monthly literay magazine from 1919 under the editorship of the traditionalist poet and scholar Hasan Vahid Dastgerdi (1880–1942). It had a traditionalist slant and was more conservative than Bahâr’s Dâneshkade in rejecting modernist innovations. On the other hand, similar to Dâneshkade, it had many of the most eminent scholars of the time as contributors writing on a wide range of topics, including literature, history, and scientific topics. After Vahid Dastgerdi’s death, his son, Mahmud Vahidzâde, continued publication in the same manner for many years. In addition to publishing Armaghân, Vahid Dastgerdi presided over the literary society Hakim Nezâmi and edited his Khamse. Âyande (The Future) was a magazine dedicated to literary research. It began to be published by Mahmud Afshâr (1893–1983) in 1925. The declared aim of the publication was ensuring the “national unity of Iran”. A number of scholars, including Forughi, Dashti, Kasravi and Dowlatâbâdi were among the contributors. The journal had a second lease of life after the Iranian Revolution of 1979 when Mahmud Afshâr’s son, Iraj Afshâr (1925–2011), one of the foremost and prolific scholars of contemporary Iran, resumed its publication until 1994.

15. Conclusion Our study of various forms of modern prose in Persian literature informs us of the great variety to be found in the works of Iranian writers in the 19th and early 20th centuries. Literary genres such as novels, short stories, plays, and literary criticism, in their modern forms, were absent from classical Persian literature. Their introduction into Persian literature was the result of gradual familiarization with European culture. The main characteristic of modern Persian prose, in the period discussed, is its tendency towards simplicity and lucidity and its avoidance of abstruseness and artificiality. The new generation of 516

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Iranian writers noticed that the bureaucratic or “secretarial” prose had atrophied and become devoid of clear meanings. Because of the reasons and factors to which we have already referred in numerous instances, Persian prose gradually distanced itself from bombastic expressions and embraced straightforward expression of concepts and meanings. It should not be overlooked that this development was, to some extent, influenced by the fact that Iranian writers had learned European languages and translated literary works from those languages. They noticed that, in order to express a concept, they needed precision in the field of using Persian words as equivalents for European ones. This, in turn, led to the development of their talent in the field of choosing accurate words and avoiding repetitions, strings of synonyms and long-winded expressions. They learned to use language solely for the purpose of conveying meanings and concepts, devoid of ornamental flourish. Iranian writers also made use of novels, short stories, and plays to convey their individual points of view, as their European counterparts had done. The individual emerging in these genres enjoys an independent identity, unlike the stereotypical characterizations in the framework of the literatures of the past.

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PERSIAN PROSE Bahâr, Moḥammad-Taqi (Malek-al-Shoʿarâ). Sabk-shenâsi yâ târikh‑e taṭavvor‑e nathr‑e Fârsi. Rev. ed., 3rd repr. 3 vols. Tehran, 1970. Balaÿ, Christophe. La genèse du roman persan moderne. Paris, 1998. Tr. Mahvash Qavimi and Nasrin Khaṭṭâṭ as Peydâyesh-e român-e Fârsi. Tehran, 1998. Browne, Edward G. LHP. ­—. The Press and Poetry of Modern Persia. Cambridge, 1914. Dehkhodâ, ʿAli-Akbar. Loghat-nâme. 50 vols. Tehran, 1947–73. Eʿtemâd-al-Salṭane, Moḥammad-Ḥasan Khan. al-Maʾ âther va’l-âthâr. Repr. Tehran, 1984. Gholâm, Moḥammad. Român-e târikhi: seyr va naqd va taḥlil-e românhâ-ye târikhi-ye Fârsi. Tehran, 2002. Hairi, Abdul-Hadi Shi’ism and Constitutionalism in Iran. Leiden, 1977. Hedâyat, Ṣâdeq. Vagh vagh sâhâb. Tehran, 1962. Kamshad, Hassan. Modern Persian Prose Literature. Cambridge, 1966. Kermâni, Mirzâ Âqâ Khân. Âyine-ye Sekandari. Ed. Z. Motarjem-alMolk. Tehran, 1906. ­—. Reyḥân-e bustân-afruz. MS, Mojtaba Minovi’s private library. ­—. Se maktub. MS Cambridge University Library, Edward G. Browne Collection No. L 5(9), fols. 3 v-168 r. Khânlari, Parviz Nâtel. “Nathr dar dowre-ye akhir.” In Nakhostin kongre-ye nevisandegân-e Irân, Tehran, 1946, pp. 128–75. Mâh-name-ye Mardom 10 (1947). Malkom Khân, Mirzâ. Rasâʾel. Ed. Hâshem Rabiʿzâde. Tehran, 1907. ­—. Sayyâḥi guyad (Ferqe-ye kajbinân). MS Fereydun Âdamiyyat’s private library. Marâgheʾi, Zeyn-al-ʿÂbedin. Siyâḥat-nâme-ye Ebrâhim-Beyk. Vol. I, Calcutta, 1896. Vol. II, Calcutta, 1905. Vol. III, Constantinople, 1909. Meskub, Shâhrokh. Dâstân-e adabiyyât va sargozasht-e ejtemâʿ. Tehran, 1994. Mir-Âbedini, Ḥasan. Seyr-e taḥavvol-e adabiyyât-e dâstâni va namâyesh. Tehran, 2008. Nâṭeq, Homâ. Kâr-nâme-ye farhangi-ye farangi dar Irân (1837–1921). Tehran, 2000. Parsinejad, Iraj. A History of Literary Criticism in Iran (1866–1951). Bethesda, Maryland, 2003. ­—. ʿAli Dashti va naqd-e adabi. Tehran, 2008. ­—. Bahâr va naqd-e adabi. Tehran, 2010. ­—. Eḥsân Ṭabari va naqd-e adabi. Tehran, 2009. ­—. Khânlari va naqd-e adabi. Tehran, 2008.

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THE DEVELOPMENT OF MODERN PERSIAN PROSE Rypka, Jan. HIL. Shahmardân b. Abi’l-Kheyr. Rowżat al-monajjemin. Facs. ed. with introd. by Jalil Akhavân Zanjâni. Tehran, 1989. Ṭabâṭabâ’i, Javâd: Maktab-e Tabriz va mabâni-e tajaddod-khwâhi, Tehran, 2007. Tâj-al-Salṭane. Crowning Anguish: Memoirs of a Persian Princess from the Harem to Modernity: 1884–1914. Tr. Anna Vanzan and Amin Neshati. Ed. Abbas Amanat. Washington, D. C., 2003.

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ABBREVIATIONS BSOAS Bulletin of the School of Oriental and African Studies (London) CHIr The Cambridge History of Iran (Cambridge, 1968–1989) EAL Encyclopedia of Arabic Literature, 1 st edition (London, 1998) 1 EI Encyclopaedia of Islam, 1 st edition (Leiden, 1913–1936) 2 EI Encyclopaedia of Islam, 2 nd edition (Leiden, 1954–2005) 3 EI Encyclopaedia of Islam, 3 rd edition (Leiden, 2007–) EIr Encyclopaedia Iranica (New York, print 1982–, online 1996–) HdO Handbuch der Orientalistik (Leiden, 1968) HIL Jan Rypka, History of Iranian Literature (Dordrecht, 1968) HPL A History of Persian Literature (New York, 2009–) IrSt Iranian Studies, Journal of the Association for Iranian Studies (Boston etc.) IA İslam Ansiklopedisi (Istanbul, 1988–2013) IJMES International Journal of Middle East Studies (Cambridge) JA Journal Asiatique (Paris) JAL Journal of Arabic Literature (Leiden) JAOS Journal of the American Oriental Society (Boston) JESHO Journal of the Economic and Social History of the Orient (Leiden) JNES Journal of Near Eastern Studies (Chicago) JRAS The Journal of the Royal Asiatic Society (London) LHP Edward G. Browne, A Literary History of Persia (London, 1902–1924) MDAT Majalle-ye Dâneshkade-ye adabiyyât (Tehran) PL C. A. Storey, Persian Literature (London, 1927–1953) PL François de Blois, Persian Literature (London, 1994–2004) TADI Târikh‑e adabiyyât dar Irân (Tehran, 1956–1991) ZDMG Zeitschrift der Deutschen Morgenländischen Gesellschaft (Halle)

521

INDEX Abân-e Lâheqi  98 Abaqa 51 Abbâs I, Shah  191,  274, 322, 363, 387, 429–31, 476 Abbâs II, Shah  237,  258 Abbâs Mirzâ xxiv,  482,  493, 497 Abd-al-Hâdi 263 Abd-al-Hamid b. Yahyâ Kâteb  63 Resâle elâ’ l-kottâb 7 Abd-al-Hoseyn Mirzâ Qâjâr  206 Abd-al-Kâfı b. Abi’l-Barakât  392 Abd-al-Kâteb, Mohammad  48 Abd-al-Motalleb  403, 405 Abd-al-Rahim Khân-e Khânân  364–65, 368 Abd-al-Razzâq, Jamâl-al-Din  362 Abd-Allâh b. Tâher  457 Abd-Allâh II b. Eskander Khân  224, 430–31 Abd-Allâh Qotb-Shâh  431 al-Abniye an haqâyeq al-adviye (Abu-Mansur Haravi)  218, 256 Abu Ma’shar Balkhi Great Introduction to Astrology 233 Ketâb al-oluf 233 Abu Mekhnaf Lut b. Yahyâ  426–27 Akhbâr-e Mokhtâr 427 Maqtal-e Ali 427 Maqtal-e Hoseyn 427 Abu Voheyb Bohlul b. Amr Seyrafı see Bohlul

Abu-Abd-Allâh, kâteb 63 Abu-Bakr, Caliph  62, 456 Abu-Bakr b. Abi-Nasr  125 Abu-Bakr b. Sa’d-e Zangi  124–25 Abu-Eshâq (Injuid)  223 Abu-Kâlijâr Garshâsp  234 Abu-Mansur Haravi, al-Abniye an haqâyeq al-adviye 218 Abu-Moselm-nâme (Tarsusi)  349, 386, 396, 420–23 Abu-Moslem Khorâsâni  73, 109, 340, 386, 421 Abu-Nasr Haravi, Qâsem b. Yusof Ershâd al-zerâ’e  66, 259, 260 Tariq-e qesmat-e âb-e qolb 259 Abu-Nowâs (Abu Nuwas)  8, 445 Abu-Sa’id b. Abi’l-Kheyr, Sheikh  348, 350–51 Abu-Sa’id b. Mohammad (Timurid) 326 Abu-Sa’id Bahadur (IlKhânid) 43 Abu-Sofyân 405 Abu-Tâleb Landani, Safar-nâme-ye Abu T ­ âleb Landani 497 Abu-Tâleb Toghrel b. Arslan b. Toghrel 224 Abu’l-Alâ Sâlem  7 Abu’l-Favâres Fanâruzi  113 Abu’l-Fedâ’, Ketâb taqvim al-boldân 246 Abu’l-Mehjan 428 Abu’l-Mohsen 134

523

PERSIAN PROSE Abu’l-Qâsem Bâbor b. Bahâdor  358 al-Adab al-kabîr (Ebn-al-­ Moqaffa’)  xxvi, 7, 63 Adab al-kottâb (Mesri)  10 Adab al-kottâb (Suli)  10 Âdâb al-mashq (Rafıqi-Haravi)  277 Âdab al-moluk va kefâyat almamluk (Mobârak­ shâh)  128–29, 130 Âdamiyyat, Fereydun  491 Âdharak 405 The Adventures of Hajji Baba of Ispahan (Morier, transl. Mirzâ Habib Esfahâni)  494, 495 Aesop 458 Âfarin-nâme (Abu-Shakur Balkhi) 106 Aflâki, Shams-al-Din Ahmad  36 Manâqeb al-ârefin 353–54 Afrâsiyâb  16, 109 Afsâne-hâ (Sobhi)  476 Afsâne-hâ-ye bâstâni-ye Irân va Majâr (Sobhi)  476 Afsâne-hâ-ye Bu-Ali Sinâ (Sobhi) 476–77 Afsâne-hâ-ye kohan (Sobhi)  477 Afshâr Begeshlu Qazvini, Mirzâ Rezâ see Qazvini, Mirzâ Rezâ Khân Afshâr Begeshlu Afshâr, Iraj  242, 414, 516 Afshâr, Mahmud  516 Afshâr, Sâdeqi Beyg, Qânun al-sovar 274 Afshari, Mehran  xiii, xxxi, xxxii, 379–454, 455–80 Aghrâz al-siyâse fı a’râz al-riyâse (Zahiri-Samarqandi) 109, 112–13 Aghrâz al-tebiyye va’l-mabâheth (Jorjâni) 255 Agra 364

Ahd-e Ardashir  99–100, 135–36 Ahd-nâme-ye Ardashir-e Bâbak 61 Ahmad b. Rosteh  245 Ahmad-e Hasan (Ghaznavid vizier) 48 Ahmadabad 434 Ahnaf b. Qeys  104 Ahrâr, Obeyd-Allâh Khwâje 71, 346–47 Ahsan al-tavârikh (Rumlu)  331 Ahvâzi, Abu’l-Hasan  27 Ajall Âlam Beg Ali, Amir-e  21–22 Ajâyeb al-makhluqât va gharâyeb al-mowjudât (Qazvini)  224, 250, 262 Ajâyeb al-makhluqât va gharâyeb al-mowjudât (Tusi-­ Salmâni) 224 Akbar, Emperor  135, 238 Akhaveyni of Bukhara, Hedâyat al-mota’allemîn fı’l tebb 218 Akhbâr Abi-Moslem sâheb al-da’wa (Marzbâni)  421 Akhbâr al-zerâf va’l-motamâjenin (Ebn-al-Jowzi) 468 Akhbâr-e Mokhtâr (Abu Mekhnaf) 427 Akhlâq-e Hakimi (Hasan-Ali Monshi Khâqâni)  135–36 Akhlâq-e Jahângiri (Qâzi NurAllah Khâqâni)  136 Akhlâq-e Jalâli (Davâni)  81, 83, 86, 134, 135, 136 Akhlâq-e Mohseni (Kâshefı)  81, 86, 134–35, 136 Akhlâq-e Mohtashami (Tusi)  110 Akhlâq-e Nâseri (Tusi)  81, 83, 108, 109, 130, 132–33, 134, 135, 137 Akhtar 514–15

524

Index Âkhundzâde, Mirzâ Fath-Ali b. Mirzâ Mohammad-Taqi  xxxi, 197, 277–78, 483, 491–92, 508–9, 511 Irâd 486–87 Maktubât-e Kamâl-al-Dowle  483, 495 Maqâle-ye alefbâ-ye jadid 488 Qeritikâ 486 Tamthilât 508–9 Âkhundzâde, Mohammad Sadiq, Tadhkerat al-nesâ 370 Âl-e Ahmad, Jalâl  508 Alâ’-al-Din III Keyqobâd  127, 300 Alâ’-al-Din Takesh b. Arslân  24– 25, 222, 248 Alâ’-al-Dowle Kâkuye  154 Alâ’-al-Dowle Semnâni, Ahmad b. Mohammad  166, 180–84 Bayân al-eshân le-ahl al-erfân  180–81 Chehel Majles 183 Mosannafât 180–83 Alâ’al-Din Mohammad b. Tekesh  248 Âlam-ârâ-ye Shâh Esmâ’il 386 Âlam-ârâ-ye Shâh Tahmâsb 386 Alamut 132 Alavi, Bozorg  507–8 Chamedân 507 Cheshm-hâyash 507 Nâme-hâ 507 Panjâh o se nafar 507 Varaq-pâre-hâ-ye zendân 507 Alaviye Khânom (Hedâyât)  507 Alefbâ-ye behruzi (Mirzâ Rezâ Afshâr) 196 Aleppo  158, 385, 400, 409, 410, 417 Alexander the Great  7, 16, 52, 104, 108–9, 111, 386, 387, 391–96, 399–402, 412, 418, 493

Alexandria 417 Alf al-nahâr 474 Alf khorâfe 472 Alf leyle va leyle  112, 472 Ali Âdel Shâh  237 Ali b. Abi-Tâleb  62–63, 106–7, 382, 404–5, 427–29, 449 Ali Ebrâhim Khân Khalil, Sohof-e Ebrâhim 365–66 Ali-nâme (Rabi’)  402 Ali-Shir Navâ’i, Mir see Navâ’i, Mir Ali-Shir Alizâde, Abd-al-Karim  42–43, 48 Allâhâbâdi, Mohammad Afzal Thâbet 434 Allâmi, Abu’l-Fazl  253 Almagest (Ptolemy)  232, 262 Alp Arslân  109, 119, 303, 438 Alptegin  48, 72 Alqâs 322 Alqash 402–3 A’mâl va alqâb (Tabari)  229 Âmeli, Bahâ’al-Din (Sheikh Bahâ’i), Jâme’-e Abbâsi  190–91, 193 Amid-al-Molk, Rashid-al-Din  76 Amin Ahmad Râzi, Haft eqlim  362, 364–65 Amin-al-Dowle, Mirzâ Ali Khan, Safar-nâme 497 Amini, Amir-Qoli  471 Si afsâne az afsâne-hâ-ye mahalli-ye Esfahân 477 Amir Arsalân (Naqib-al-Mamâlek Shirâzi)  386, 388–89, 434, 436–39, 441 Amir Mardu  397 Amir Shâhi Sabzavâri  356–58 Amir-Kabir, Mirzâ Taqi Khan  482, 485 al-Âmoli, Bahâ’-al-Din, Kholâsat al-hesâb 227

525

PERSIAN PROSE Âmoli, Shams-al-Din, Nafâyes al-fonun  221, 223 Amr b. Leyth  109 Amr b. Omayye Zamri  403, 407, 428 Anatolia  36–37, 41–42, 126, 133, 226, 299–300, 308, 321–22, 330, 438 al-Andalus, Andalusia  252, 394 Andar dânesh-e rag (Resâle-ye nabz) (Ebn-Sinâ)  154 Ansâri, Abd-Allâh  xxviii, 75, 166, 172–74, 257 Haft hesâr 174 Kanz al-sâlekin 174 Ketâb-e sad meydân 173 Mahabbat-nâme 174 Monâjât-nâme  150, 172–73 Nasâyeh 174 Qalandar-nâme 174 Resâle-ye del va jân 174 Resâle-ye manâqeb-e Emâm Ahmad b. Hanbal 174 Resâle-ye Vâredât 174 Tabaqât al-sufıyye  174, 184, 346, 353 Zâd al-ârefın 174 Antutiye  400, 402 Anushervan  103, 105, 108–9, 111, 114, 118, 385 see also Nushirvân Anvâr, Qâsem  276 Anvâr-e Soheyli (Kâshefı)  86, 100 Anvari, Owhad-al-Din Mohammad  1, 46, 52 Divân-e Anvari 58–59 Âqâ Tabrizi, Mirzâ  509 Tariqe-ye hokumat-e Zamân Khân Borujerdi va sargozasht-e ân ayâm 509 Âqâ-Mohammad Khan  481

Aqili Khorâsâni, Mohammad Hoseyn, Makhzan aladviye 258 Aql-e sorkh (Sohravardi)  159 Âqsarâ’i, Karim-al-Din Mahmud, Mosâmarât al-akhbâr 302 Arâ’es al-khavâter va nafâ’es al-navâder (Vatvât)  32–34 Arafât al-âsheqin va arasât al-ârefın (Owhadi Balyâni)  363–66 Arâyes al-javâher fı nafâyes al-atâyeb (Kâshâni)  242 Archimedes 239 Ardashir  61, 99–100, 105, 109, 111, 396, 399, 423 Ardavân the Elder  109 Ardavân, son of Farrokhzâd  418 Ardavân the Younger  109 Âref Qazvini, Khâterât-e Âref-e Qazvini 498 Aristotle  7, 59, 105, 108–9, 131, 134, 163, 238–41, 243, 388, 393, 399–400, 458 Organon 9 Poetics  9, 467 Rhetoric  9, 59 Armaghân 516 Arrajân 408–9 Arslân Aba b. Aq Sunqur  123 Asadi Tusi  256, 432 Asfâne-hâ-ye Âzerbâyjân (Dehqâni and Behrangi)  477 Ashraf Khan, Soltân  444 Ashraf-e makhluqât (Mas’ud)  504 Ashtiany, Mohsen  294 Âshtiyâni, Mirzâ Hasan  201 Askari, Abu-Helâl, Ketâb alsenâ’ateyn: al-ketâbe va’l-she’r 11 Aslah, Mohammad, Tadhkere-ye sho’arâ-ye Kashmir 369

526

Index Asmâr al-Hamze 406 Asrâr al-balâghe (Jorjâni)  12 Asrâr al-hekam (Sabzavâri)  198 Asrâr al-towhid (Ebn-Monavvar)  348, 350–51 Asrâr-e shab (Khalili)  503 Assâr, Mohammad-Kâzem  201 Astarâbâd 358 Astarâbâdi, Ali b. Mohammad Shari’atmadâr, Jâme’-e Nâseri 193–94 Astarâbâdi, Fazl-Allâh  275 Astarâbâdi, Mohammad-Ja’far, Jâme’-e Mohammadi 193 Atâbak, Ali-Asghar Khân  474 Atabat al-katabe (Joveyni)  20–24 Âtashkade-ye Âzar (Âzar)  365 Âthâr va ehyâ (Rashid-al-Din Fazl-Allâh) 259 Atsiz, Alâ’-al-Dowle  33, 255 Attâr, Farid-al-Din  29, 69, 124 Tadhkerat al-owliyâ 172, 341–45, 348 Aurangzeb, Emperor  260, 321, 347 Austen, J. L.  281 al-Avâmer al-’Alâ iye fı’l-omur al-’Alâ iye (Ebn-Bibi)  299– 300, 302 Âvâz-e par-e jebra’il (Sohravardi)  159 Avicenna see Ebn-Sinâ Ayâdgâr-i Shahrihâ 244 Âyande 516 Aynî, Sadriddîn (Sadr-al-Din Eyni) 326–27 Ayyâm-e mahbas (Dashti)  498, 506 Âzar, Loft-Ali Beyg, Âtashkade-ye Âzar 365 Azerbaijan  114, 123, 296–97, 312, 321, 326, 380, 417, 460–61, 477 Azod-al-Dowle  101, 107, 109, 226

Bâbâ Tâher  297 Bâbeli, Abu Dhâtes  236 Bâbor, Zahir-al-Din Mohammad, Emperor, Bâbor-nâme 320– 21, 370–71 Bâbor-nâme (Bâbor)  320–21, 370–71 Bache-hâ salâm (Sobhi)  476 Badâye’ al-afkâr (Kâshefı)  79, 86 Badâye’ al-hekam (Modarres Tehrâni) 199–201 Badâye’ al-vaqâye’ (Vâsefı)  320, 326, 328, 371, 429 Badi, Hasan Khan, Dâstân-e Bâstân yâ Sargozasht-e Kurosh 501 Badi’ va Qâsem (Balkhi)  407 Badi’-al-Jamâl 257 Badi’-al-Molk, MohammadHoseyn Mirzâ  199–200 Badr Monir, Prince  436 Badr-al-Din Yahyâ  36, 41 Monsha’ât-e Badr-al-Din Yahyâ 41 Badri 248 Baghdad  xxiii, xxiv, xxvi, 1, 10, 22, 177, 228, 261, 397, 445–46, 473 Baghdâdi, Ahmad b. Omar Majd-al-Din 29 Baghdâdi, Bahâ’-al-Din Mo­hammad b. Mo’ayyed  45, 52, 84, 86 al-Tavassol elâ’l-tarassol 24– 32, 69–70 Bahâ’-al-Din, Amir  36 Bahâ’i, Sheikh see Âmeli, Bahâ’al-Din Bahâr, Mehrdâd  389, 391 Bahâr, Mohammad-Taqi Malek-alSho’arâ  xxix, 16, 279, 281, 327, 486, 495, 515–16

527

PERSIAN PROSE Sabk-shenâsi yâ târikh-e tatavvor-e nathr-e Fârsi  279, 284–85 Bahla Hendavi  56 Bahman  396, 399, 433 Bahman Mirzâ  472 Bahman-nâme  389, 432, 433 Bahr al-favâ’ed 123 Bahr al-navâder see Navâder al-hekâyât va gharâyeb al-revâyât (Qazvini) Bahr al-sa’âdat (Hâji Harâs)  471 Bahrain 185 Bahrâm Gur  306 Bahrâm Shâh of Ghazna  100 Bahrâm Shah of Kashmir  416 Bâkharzi see Nezâmi Bâkharzi, Nezâm-al-Din Abd-al-Vâse’ Bakht Jamâl  402–3 Bakhtak 403 Bakhtiyâr-nâme  112, 444 Baku 226 Bal’ami, Abu-Ali Mohammad, Tarjome-ye târikh-e Tabari  xxv, xxx, 16, 288–89, 293 Balkh  70, 225, 247, 316, 430 Balkhi, Abu Zeyd, Sovâr alaqâlim 250–51 Balkhi, Abu-Shakur, Âfarinnâme 106 Balkhi, Abu-Zeyd  245 Balkhi, Ahmad b. Sahl, Fazl senâ’at al-ketâba 10 Balkhi, Jalâl-al-Din (naqqâl) 407 Badi’ va Qâsem 407 Balkhi, Soltân-Mohammad b. Darvish-Mohammad al-Mofti, Majma’ algharâyeb 224–25 Balyâni, Amin-al-Din  352 Bânu Goshasp-nâme 433

Banu’l-Zaki of Damascus  36 al-Bâqer, Imam Mohammad  422 Barbarestân 416 Barid al-sa’âde (Malatyavi)  107, 108 Barkhwordâr b. Mahmud Torkemân Farâhi Mahbub al-qolub 463–65 Mahfel-ârâ 464 Ra’nâ va Zibâ 463–64 Barkyâroq, Sultan  239 Barqi, Abi-Abd-Allâh Mohammad, Ketâb altebyân 250 Bashshâr b. Bord  8 Basra  446, 458 Bassus, Kassianus  258 Bayân al-eshân le-ahl al-erfân (Alâ’-al-Dowle Semnâni) 180–81 al-Bayân va’l-tabyin (Jâhez)  52 Bayâz-e Bidel 360 Bâyazid of Bastâm  341, 348–49 Bâysonghor  65, 357–58 Bâz-nâme (Nasavi)  243 Bâzergân, Nasr  407 Behâzin (Mahmud E’temâdzâde) 508 Behmardi, Vahid  11–13 Behrangi, Samad, Afsâne-hâ-ye Âzerbâyjân 477 Behruz 416–17 Behruz, Dhabih  510 Jijak Ali Shâh 510 Shab-e Ferdowsi 510 Beijing  308, 310 Beluhar va Budhâsaf 471 Beyhaqi, Abu’l-Fazl  21, 33–34 Târikh-e Beyhaqi  16, 26, 33–34, 281–82, 294–95, 298, 301, 310–11, 318, 327

528

Index Beyhaqi, Khwâje Othman  33–34 Beyhaqi, Zahir-al-Din (Ebn Fondoq) 239 Târikh-e Beyhaq 285 Tatemme Sevân al-hekme 229, 264 Bhagalpur 436 Bidar 275 Bidel of Dehli, Chahâr onsor 372 Bighami, Mohammad  414–15 Bijapur 363 Biruni, Abu-Reyhân  234, 241, 245, 251, 309 al-Jamâhir al-javâher 240–42 Geodesy 250 Ketâb al-seydane 257 Ketâb al-tafhim li-avâ’el senâ’at al-tanjim 234, 236, 257, 262 Bishkin b. Mohammad b. Bishkin 461 Bist bâb dar ma’refat-e taqvîm (Tusi) 231 Bist bâb dar ostorlâb (Tusi)  231 Black, Deborah  9 Boghrâ Khân  48 Bohlul  458, 459 Bokhâri, Majd-al-Din  255 Bokhâri, Mohammad, Favâ’ed-e khotut 277 Bokhâri, Sharaf-al-Din Mas’udi see Marvazi, Sharaf-al-Din Mas’udi Bombay 436 Bonaparte, Napoleon  482 Borhân-e qâte’ (MohammadHoseyn Khalaf Tabrizi)  197 Borujerdi, Sheykh Mohammad Abdo 201 Borzu-nâme 433 Bosnia 330

Bostân al-qolub (Sohravardi)  159 Bot-khâne (Mâzandarâni)  360 Boyce, Mary  103 Boz-e zangule-pâ 475 Bozorgmehr  105, 108, 403, 407 Piruzi-nâme (Zafar-nâme) 105 Brentjes, Sonja  xiii–xiv, xxviii, 217–73 Britain  482, 495, 497, 514 Browne, Edward Granville  280, 499, 515 Buf-e kur (Hedâyât)  507 Bukhara  xxv, 72, 285, 320, 326, 367, 371, 457, 461 Bundahishn 244 Bur-Hend Rumi  404–5 Burân 72 Burân-dokht (Rowshanak)  400– 402, 412 Buse-ye adhrâ (Reynolds)  501 Busse, Heribert  2 Bustân-e khiyâl (Ja’fari Hoseyni Ahmadâbâdi) 434–36 Bustân-e Sa’di, (Sa’di)  98, 111–12, 124–25 Byzantium  247, 286, 288 Cairo  303, 482, 515 Calcutta 515 Callisthenes 391 Caspian Sea  249 Caucasus  307–8, 482 Chahâr darvish 444 Chahâr maqâle (Nezâmi Aruzi Samarqandi)  14, 48, 50, 72–73, 116, 262, 295–96, 327, 462 Chahâr onsor (Bidel of Dehli)  372 Chahârdah afsâne az afsâne-hâ-ye rustâ’i-ye Irân (KuhiKermâni) 476

529

PERSIAN PROSE Chamedân (Alavi)  507 Charand-parand (Dehkhodâ)  469, 499, 505 Charles XII of Sweden  493 Chateaubriand, FrançoisAuguste-René de  506 Chehel Majles (Alâ’-al-Dowle Semnâni) 183 Chehel tuti 446–47 Chengis Khân  302, 309, 312, 326 Cheshm-hâyash (Alavi)  507 China  247, 307–8, 310, 326, 394, 410–11, 418, 423–24 Chubak, Sâdeq  508 Comte, Auguste  483, 496 Constantinople 418 see also Istanbul Croatia 407 Cyrus the Great  501, 509 Daftar-Khwân, Mahmud  384, 413, 414 Dalile-ye Mohtâle 445–46 Dalle-ye Mohtâle 445–46 Dalle-ye Mokhtâr 445 Dâmâdi, Mohammad  444 Damascus  36, 417, 423, 440 Damâvand, Mount  500 Dânesh, Ahmad-Makhdum, Navâder al-vaqâye’ 326 Dânesh-nâme-ye Alâ’i (EbnSinâ)  154–58, 219, 223, 238 Dânesh-nâme-ye Meysarî (Meysari)  218, 263 Dâneshkade (journal)  515–16 Dâneshpazhuh, MohammadTaqi 301 Dâneshvar, Simin  508 Dâniyâl (Daniel, prophet)  402 Dar hekmat-e Soqrât ba qalam-e Aflâtun (Forughi)  496

Dar pirâmun-e târikh-e Beyhaqi (Nafısi) 282 Dar talâsh-e ma’âsh (Mas’ud)  504 Dârâ Shokuh  347 Safınat al-owliyâ 348 Sakinat al-owliyâ 348 Dârâb I  xxxi, 16, 109, 385, 393, 395–402, 415–18 Dârâb II  109, 393, 399–400, 415 Dârâb-nâme 413–14 Dârâb-nâme (Tarsusi)  391, 393, 395–402, 408, 412, 420 Dâri, Tamim  456 Dasâtir 196–97 Dashti, Ali  516 Ayyâm-e mahbas  498, 506 Fetne 506 Hendu 506 Jâdu 506 Dastân (Zâl)  109, 382, 416 Dâstân-e Bâstân yâ Sargozasht-e Kurosh (Badi)  501 Dâstân-e Mâni-ye naqqâsh 502 Dâstânhâ-ye amthâl (ed. Amini) 471 Dastur al-fosahâ’ (Fakhr-alZamâni Qazvini)  405–6 Dastur al-kâteb fı ta’yin almarâteb (Nakhjavâni)  42– 50, 52, 54–56, 60–64, 80, 82–83, 86 Dastur al-vezâre (Esfahâni)  124 Dastur al-vozarâ (Khwândamir)  76, 355 Dastur-e-dabiri (Meyhani)  17–20 Davâni, Jalâl-al-Din, Akhlâq-e Jalâli  81, 83, 86, 134–136 de Bruijn, J. T. P.  15 Dehâti, M. see Mas’ud, Mohammad Dehestâni, Hoseyn b. As’ad, Faraj ba’d az sheddat  462–63, 465

530

Index Dehkhodâ, Ali-Akbar  510, 513 Charand-parand  469, 499, 505 Dehqâni, Behruz, Afsâne-hâ-ye Âzerbâyjân 477 Delhi  129, 461 Descartes, René, Discours de la Méthode  483, 495 Dhakhirat al-moluk (Hamadâni)  129–30 Dhakhire-ye Khwârazmshâhi (Jorjâni) 254–56 Dhekr-e qotb al-sâlekin 349 Dheyl-e Nafthat al-masdur (Najm-al-Din Qomi)  301 Dhokâ’-al-Molk I (MohammadHoseyn Forughi)  494, 496 Dhu’l-Qarneyn 393 Dinâvari, Nasr b. Ya’qub  240 Dioscorides  243, 262 Ketâb al-hashâyesh  219, 258 Discours de la Méthode (Descartes)  483, 495 Dorrat al-akhbâr (Monshi Yazdi) 264 Dorrat al-tâj (Shirâzi)  223–24 Dorreh-ye nâdere (Mahdi Khân)  323, 484, 490 Doshmanzyâr (Doshman-Zayâr), Abu-Ja’far  154, 219 Dowlatâbâdi, Yahyâ  516 Hayât-e Yahyâ 498 Shahrnâz 503 Dowlatshâh Samarqandi, Tadhkerat al-sho’arâ 356– 59, 361 Dumas, Alexandre  494 Dust Mohammad  277 East India Company  482 Ebn-Abd Rabbeh, al-Eqd alfarid 467

Ebn-Abi’l-Hadid 52 Ebn-al-Amid, Abu’l-Fazl  10, 12 Ebn-al-Arabi  36–37, 40, 42–43, 53, 63, 68, 82, 181, 184 al-Fotuhât al-Makkiye 37–39 Fosus al-hekam 44 Ebn-al-Athir, Ziyâ’-al-Din  52 al-Mathal al-sâ’er fı adab al-kâteb va’l-shâ’er 13 Ketâb al-kâmel fıl-ta’rikh 296 Ebn-al-Balkhi, Fârs-nâme 246– 48, 250, 315 Ebn-al-Beytâr 59 Ketâb al-jâme’ le-mofradât al-adviye va’l-ajdiye 58 Tafsir ketâb Deyusquridus 58 Ebn-al-Heytham 231 Ebn-al-Jowzi, Abu’l-Faraj Abdal-Rahmân 448 Akhbâr al-zerâf va’lmotamâjenin 468 al-Qossâs va’l-modhakkerin­  456–57 Ebn-al-Moqaffa’, Abd-Allâh  xxvi, 7, 63, 98, 100 al-Adab al-Kabîr  xxvi, 7, 63 Ebn-al-Mo’tazz, Abd-Allâh  12, 109 Ketâb al-badi 8 Ebn-al-Nadim, Abu’l-Faraj  7, 421, 459, 473 Fehrest 472 Ebn-al-Zaki Motatabbeb Qonavi, Abu Bakr  43, 86 Rowzat al-kottâb va hadiqat al-albâb  35–42, 44, 46, 50, 52, 69 Ebn-Bakhtishu, Manâfe alhayavân 263 Ebn-Bazzâz, Safvat al-safâ 352– 53

531

PERSIAN PROSE Ebn-Bibi, al-Avâmer al-’Alâ iye fı’l-omur al-’Alâ iye 299– 300, 302 Ebn-Elyâs 265 Ebn-Faqih 245 Ebn-Fondoq see Beyhaqi, Zahiral-Din Ebn-Hosâm Khusfı,Mohammad, Khâvar-nâme  390, 428–29 Ebn-Khorâdâdhbeh 245 Ketâb al-mamâlek va’lmasâlek 250–51 Ebn-Monavvar, Asrâr altowhid  348, 350–51 Ebn-Moqle 275–76 Ebn-Najib Bakrân, Mohammad, Jahân-nâme  246, 248–51, 262 Ebn-Roshd 9 Ebn-Sa’id Maghrebi  252 Ebn-Sharif Hoseyni, Ali  258 Ebn-Sinâ (Avicenna)  9, 30, 57–59, 65, 105, 149, 154–55, 159, 162, 186, 188–89, 198, 201, 217, 221, 234, 240, 477 al-Eshârât va’l-tanbihât 78 al-Najât 238 al-Qânun fı’l-tebb  78, 253–54 al-Shefâ’  78, 238–40, 243 Andar dânesh-e rag (Resâle-ye nabz) 154 Dânesh-nâme-ye Alâ’i 154–58, 219, 223, 238 Ketâb al-majmu’ ow al-hekme al-aruziyye fı ma’âni ketâb Rituriqâ 59–60 Ketâb al-najât 78 Orjuzâ fıl-tebb 263 Qorâze-ye tabi’iyyât 266 Rag-shenâsi  219, 264 Ebn-Thâbet, Abu’l-Ghosn Dojeyn see Johâ

Ebrâhim Âdel-Shâh II  363 Ebrâhim, Sultan  275 Edrisi 252 Egypt  133, 167, 252, 293, 392, 394, 400, 403–4, 416–17, 435, 445, 473 Ehyâ’ olum al-din (Ghazâli)  57, 120–21 Ekhtiyârât-e Badi’i (Zeyn-alAttâr) 257 Ekhtiyârât-e Mozaffari (Shirazi)  230–31 Elâhi-nâme (Ansâri) see Monâjâtnâme Elements (Euclid)  227–29 Elmi (journal)  514 Emâd-al-Dowle II  199 Enjavi Shirâzi Gol be-senobar che mikard 477 Mardom va Ferdowsi 477 Mardom va Shâh-nâme 477 Qesse-hâ-ye Irâni 477 Sang-e sabur 477 Enteqâm (Khalili)  503 al-Eqd al-farid (Ebn-AbdRabbeh) 467 Erâqi, Bu’l-Hasan  34 Ershâd al-zerâ’e (Abu-Nasr Haravi)  66, 259–60 Esfahâni, Ahmad b. Mohammad b. Yusof Ketâb adab al-kottâb 10 Tabaqât al-khotabâ 10 Esfahâni, Bâbâ-Shâh  277 Esfahâni, Emâd-al-Din  25 Esfahâni, Mahmud b. Moham­ mad, Dastur al-vezâre 124 Esfahâni, Mirzâ Habib  494–95 Esfahâni, Mohammad b. Sabz-Ali, Vajizat al-tahrir 195 Esfahâni, Mohammad Sâdeq  253

532

Index Esfahâni, Mokhles  474 Esfandiyâr  382, 398, 433 Esfezâri, Abu-Hâtem  240 Resâle-ye âthâr-e olvi 239 Esfezâri, Mo’in-al-Din Mohammad Zamchi  24 Resâle-ye qavânin 67–75 Rowzat al-jannat fı owsâf madinat Harât 70 al-Eshârât va’l-tanbihât (EbnSinâ) 78 Eshkevari, Mirzâ Hâshem  199 Eshq dar piri (Fekri Ershâd)  509 Eshq va saltanat yâ Fotuhât-e Kurosh-e kabir (Hamadâni) 501 Eskâfı, Abu’l-Qâsem  48 Eskandar-nâme  386–87, 389, 391–96, 408, 418, 432 Eskandar-nâme (Nezâmi Ganjavi)  390 Eskander Beyg Monshi, Târikh-e âlamârâ-ye Abbâsi  331, 355 Eskander-nâme-ye kabir 420 Eskander-Soltân  232, 236 Esmâ’il b. Ahmad (Samanid ruler) 109 Esmâ’il, Kamâl-al-Din Esfahâni 362 Esmâ’il, Shah  259, 362, 368, 386, 407, 463 Esmâ’ili, Hoseyn  447 Estakhr 417 Estakhri, Abu-Eshâq  245 Masâlek ol-mamâlek 246 Estefân b. Basil  258 E’temâd-al-Saltane, MohammadHasan Khan  493–94 Ruz-nâme-ye khâterât-e E’temâd-al-Saltane 498 E’temâdzâde, Mahmud see Behâzin

Ethbât-e vâjeb (Tabrizi)  189 Ethé, Carl Hermann, Grundriss der Iranischen Philologie 279 Euclid, Elements 227–29 Eyn al-hekme (Râzi)  189 Eyn-al-Hayât  385, 416–18 Eyn-al-Qozât Hamadâni  166, 177 Letters 178–80 Shakvâ al-gharib 177 Tamhidât 177–78 Zobdat al-haqâ’eq 177 Ezz-al-Din Anar, Amir  21, 23 Ezz-al-Din Keykâ’us I b. Key­ khosrow (Rum Saljuq ruler) 107 Ezz-al-Din Keykâ’us II  133 Ezzi of Marv, Fotovvat-nâme 413 Fakhr-al-Dowle 436–37 Fakhr-al-Zamâni Qazvini, Abd-al-Nabi Dastur al-fosahâ’ 405–6 Tadhkere-ye meykhâne 370 Tarâz al-akhbâr 406 Fakhr-e Modabber see Mobârak­ shâh, Fakhr-al-Din Fakhri Haravi  xxxi, 463 Haft keshvar 463 Javâher al-ajâ’eb 369–70 Latâyef-nâme 367 Faqiri, Abol-Qâsem, Qesse-hâ-ye mardom-e Fârs 477 Fârâbi, Abu-Nasr  9, 131–32, 217 Farâ’ed al-soluk fı fazâ’el almoluk (Sajâsi)  124 al-Faraj ba’d al-shedde va’l-ziqat (Madâ’eni) 462 Faraj ba’d az sheddat (Dehestâni)  462–63, 465 Farâmarz b. Khodâdâd  408–9 Farâmarz-nâme 432–33

533

PERSIAN PROSE Farangis (Nafısi)  505 Fâresi, Salmân  362 Farghâna  65, 316 Farhâd Mirza (Mo’tamad-alDowle) 260 Farhang-e ajâyeb al-haqâyeq-e Owrangshâhi (Ja’fari)  260 Faridun 109 Fârmadhi, Abu-Ali  61–62 Farrokh-ruz 409–12 Farrokhi Sistâni, Divân 445 Farrokhzâd  416, 418 Fârs  124, 247–48, 312, 408–9, 417, 477 Fârs-nâme (Ebn-al-Balkhi)  246– 48, 250, 315 Fârsi shekar ast (Jamâlzâde)  510 Fâryâbi, Zahir-al-Din  445 Fâryumadi, Ezz-al-Din Tâher  51 Fâryumadi, Jâlal-al-Din AbuYazid b. Vajih-al-Din Zangi b. Tâher  50–52, 54 Fâryumadi, Vajih-al-Din Zangi  51 Fâteme 449 Fath-Ali Shah  324–25, 481, 493 Fath-nâme (Joveyni)  21–22 Favâ’ed al-fo’âd (Nezâm-al-Din Owliyâ) 353 Favâ’ed-e khotut (Bokhâri)  277 Fazl b. Rabi’  20 Fazl b. Sahl  48 Fazl senâ’at al-ketâba (Balkhi)  10 Feghâni, Bâbâ  366 Fehrest (Ebn-al-Nadim)  472 Fekri Ershâd, Mortazâ-Qoli Khan Mo’ayyed-al-Mamâlek Eshq dar piri 509 Hokkâm-e qadim va hokkâm-e jadid 509 Sargozasht-e yek ruz-nâmenegâr 509

Sirus-e kabir 509 Fénelon, François, Sargozasht-e Telemak 501 Ferdowsi  1, 294, 309, 471, 477, 510 Shâh-nâme xxx,  84, 106, 108–9, 250, 306, 311, 313–15, 317, 384–87, 389–91, 396, 402, 432–34, 463, 477 Fereydun 432 Fetne (Dashti)  506 Fi hâlat al-tofuliyye (Sohravardi)  159 Fi haqiqat al-eshq (Sohravardi)  159 Firuzshâh  xxxi, 385, 399, 413–19 Firuzshâh-nâme  384–85, 387–88, 391, 413–19, 432 Firuzshâh-nâme: donbâle-ye Dârâb-nâme bar asâs-e ravâyat-e Mohammad-e Bighami 414 Forughi, Mohammad-Ali (Dhokâ’-al-Molk II)  476, 516 Dar hekmat-e Soqrât ba qalam-e Aflâtun 496 Seyr-e hekmat dar Orupâ 496 Forughi, Mohammad-Hoseyn (Dhokâ’-al-Molk I)  494 Fosus al-hekam (Ebn-al-Arabi)  44 Fotovvat-nâme (Ezzi of Marv)  413 Fotovvat-nâme-hâ 457–58 Fotovvat-nâme-ye soltâni (Kâshefı)  86, 382–83, 425–26, 468 al-Fotuhât al-Makkiye (Ebn-alArabi) 37–39 Foucault, Michel  292 Fouchécour, Charles-Henri de  110, 124 Fragner, Bert G.  xiv–xv, xxix, 119, 279–338

534

Index France  482, 485, 491, 494–95 Frederick II, Holy Roman Emperor 134 Fur (Indian ruler)  400 Galen  253, 326 Ganj-nâme (Ansâri) see Kanz al-sâlekin Garrusi, Hasan-Ali-Khan AmirNezâm 482 Garshâsp 432 Garshâsp-nâme  389, 432 Gâvân, Mahmud, Manâzer al-enshâ’ 2 Gawaliyâri, Mohammad Ghowth  434 Gelpke, Rudolf  441 Genette, Gerard  4 Geodesy (Biruni)  250 Geography (Ptolemy)  245 Georgia 407 Geryân (Mohammad Hoseyn Shahrâbi) 449 Geyhân-shenâkht (Qattân Marvazi) 229–30 Geykhatu Khân  310 Gharâyeb al-donyâ (Tusi)  242 Ghazâli, Abu-Hâmed  62, 117, 120–22, 129, 133, 177 Ehyâ’ olum al-din  57, 120–21 Kimiyâ-ye sa’âdat  120–21, 123, 137 Nasihat al-moluk  103, 121–22 Ghazâli, Ahmad  xxviii, 166, 177 Savâneh al-eshq 175–77 Ghâzân Khân  263, 310, 313 Ghazna  21, 234, 263 Ghaznavi, Mohammad, Maqâmât-e Zhende-Pil 351 Ghaznavi, Mohammad b. Mas’ud  235

Gheissari, Ali  xv, xxviii, 146–216 Ghiyâth-al-Din Mohammad  43 Gibbon, Edward  483 Gilâni, Mohammad b. Abi-Tâleb see Hazin, Sheykh Gilânshâh 118 Gobineau, Comte de  483 Goethe, Johann Wolfgang von 506 Golbadan Begom, Homâyunnâme 371 Golchin-Ma’âni, Ahmad, Kârvân-e Hend 369 Golestân (Sa’di)  98, 111–12, 123–26, 135, 488, 495 Golestân-e honar (Qomi)  276, 278, 354 Golhâ’i ke dar jahannam miruyand (Mas’ud)  504 Golzâr-e safâ (Seyrafı)  274 Gorgan  41, 118, 316 Gorgâni, Fakhr-al-Din, Vis o Râmin 390 Gorjâni, Esmâ’il see Jorjâni, Esmâ’il Goshâyesh va rahâyesh (Nâser-e Khosrow) 167–68 Gowhar-e morâd (Lâhiji)  188–89 Great Introduction to Astrology (Abu Ma’shar Balkhi)  233, 236 Greece  400–401, 403 Grundriss der Iranischen Philologie (Ethé)  279 Gujarat  364, 434 Gully, Adrian  3, 7 Güyük Khan  307 Haarmann, Ulrich  291, 293 Habib al-siyar (Khwândamir) 68, 319–20, 328, 465

535

PERSIAN PROSE Habl-al-Matin 515 Hablerudi, Mohammad-Ali Jâme’ al-tamthil 470–71 Majma’ al-amthâl 470 Hadâ’eq al-sehr fı daqâ’eq al-she’r (Vatvât)  13–14, 30 Hadâ’eq al-vathâ’eq (Khwâri) 51– 52 Hadâyeq al-siyar (Yahyâ b. Sâ’ed b. Ahmad)  127–28 Hadiqat al-haqiqe (Sanâ’i)  40 Hâ’eri, Mirza Hoseyn Khan (Sadr-al-Ma’âli) 501 Hâfez, Shams-al-Din Mo­ hammad  276, 390, 409, 471 Hâfez Abru, Shehâb-al-Din, Joghrâfıyâ  246, 252–53, 317 Haft ensâf-e Hâtem 447 Haft eqlim (Amin Ahmad Râzi)  362, 364–65 Haft hesâr (Ansâri)  174 Haft keshvar (Fakhri Haravi)  463 Haft Lashkar  387, 433–34 Haft Peykar (Nezâmi)  263 Haft seyr-e Hâtem 447 Hâj Sayyâh, Mirzâ MohammadAli Mahallâti, Khâterât 497 Hâji Âqâ (Hedâyât)  507 Hâji Harâs (Tâj-al-Din Mo­ hammad Kâzaruni), Bahr al’sa’âdat 471 Hâji Riyâ’i Khân yâ Târtuf-e sharqi (Mahmudi Kamâl-alVezâre) 510 Hajjâj b. Yusof  421, 443 Hakim Mo’men Hoseyni, Tohfat al-mo’menin 257 Hall-e moshkelât-e Mo’iniyye (Tusi)  230–31, 261 Hallâj, Ebn-Mansur  177, 341 Hamadan 295

Hamadâni, Abu’l-Ma’âli AbdAllâh b. Abi Bakr Mohammad Miyâneji see Eyn-al-Qozât Hamadâni Hamadâni, Ali, Dhakhirat al-moluk 129–30 Hamadâni, Badi’-al-Zamân  11–13 Maqâmât 12 Hamadâni, Eyn-al-Qozât see Eyn-al-Qozât Hamadâni Hamadâni, Rahim Musâ’i (Mollâ Lâlezâr) 495 Hamadâni, Shaikh Musâ Nasri, Eshq va saltanat yâ Fotuhât-e Kurosh-e kabir 501 Hamadâni, Yusof  346 Hâmed, Mowlâna (naqqâl) 407 Hamid-al-Din Balkhi, Omar b. Mahmud, Maqâmât-e Hamidi 70 Hamze  385–87, 402–7 Hamze-nâme  349, 385–87, 391, 394–95, 402–8 Handbuch der Orientalistik 284 Haravi, Mir-Ali (calligrapher)  277 Hariri, Abu-Mohammad Qâsem b. Ali, Maqâmât al-Hariri 64 Hârun-al-Rashid, Caliph  20, 445–46, 473 Hasan b. Sahl  48, 72 Hasan b. Solaymân (Tavğaç Kara Buğra Khan)  115 Hasan of Basra  457 Hasanak  26, 295 Hâshem, Mohammad, Rostam at-tavârîkh  323–26, 328 Hâshem Ali-al-Rezâ  253 Hâtefı, Timur-nâme 317 Hâtem Asamm  468 Hâtem Tâ’i (Hâtem b. Abd-Allâh b. Sa’d)  458, 468

536

Index Hayâkel al-nur (Sohravardi)  159 Hayât-e Yahyâ (Dowlatâbâdi)  498 Hazin, Sheykh, Târikh-e ahvâl bâ tadhkere-ye khod 323 Hedâyat al-mota’allemîn fıl tebb (Akhaveyni of Bukhara)  218 Hedâyat, Rezâ-Qoli Khân  319– 20, 486 Majma’ al-fosahâ 372 Riyâz al-ârefın 372 Hedâyât, Sâdeq  477, 502, 504, 506–7, 510, 512 Alaviye Khânom 507 Buf-e kur 507 Hâji Âqâ 507 Mathal-hâ-ye Fârsi 476 Mâziyâr 510 Owsâne 476 Parvin dokhtar-e Sâsân 510 Sag-e velgard 507 Sâye rowshan 507 Se qatre khun 507 Zende be gur 506–7 Heinrichs, Wolfhart  10, 12 Hejaz  394, 400, 456 Hejâzi, Mohammad  505–6 Homâ 505 Parichehr 505 Zibâ  505, 506 Hekmat al-eshrâq (Sohravardi)  79, 159 al-Hekme fı’l-ad’iye va’l-mow’eze le’lomme (Khwâri) 51 Helyat al-mottaqin (Majlesi)  192–93 Hendi, Tomtom  236–38 Hendu (Dashti)  506 Herat  70, 72, 75, 79, 173, 316, 319, 322, 330, 347, 366–67, 371 Herenqâlis 398–99 Heshâm, Caliph  7

Hezâr afsân 472 Hezâr o yek shab 472 Hezâr ruz 474 Hindustan 114 see also India Hippocrates 458 Historians of the Middle East (ed. Lewis and Holt)  284 History of Iranian Literature (Rypka) 280 Hodgson, Marshall G.  283 Hodud al-âlam  218, 246–47, 315 Hojviri, Abu’l-Hasan Ali b. Othmân  xxviii, 166, 169 Kashf al-mahjub  30, 169–72, 345 Hokkâm-e qadim va hokkâm-e jadid (Fekri Ershâd)  509 Holt, P. M.  284 Homâ  396–97, 399, 472 Homâ (Hejâzi)  505 Homâ’i, Jalâl-al-Din  498 Homây  396, 423–24 Homâyun, Emperor  223, 371 Homâyun-nâme (Golbadan Begom) 371 Homâyunfarrokh, Rokn-alDin 79 Honeyn b. Eshâq  258 Hormuz 404 Horst, Heribert  2, 32 Hoseyn, Khwâje Kamâl-al-Din  76 Hoseyn b. Ali, Imam  423, 426–27, 447, 450 Hoseyn-e Kord-e Shabestari  383, 386–87, 429–31 Hoseyn-nâme see Qesse-ye Hoseyn-e Kord-e Shabestari Hoseyn-Qoli Khân Shâmlu  463 Hoseynâ (Sabuhi) (dervish)  385 Hoyeyy b. Akhtab  62

537

PERSIAN PROSE Hulegu Khân  132, 228, 236, 242, 261, 318 Humphreys, Stephen R., Islamic History: A Framework for Inquiry 284 Hushang Shah  101, 425, 432 Hyderabad 430 al-Ijâz va’l-e’ jâz (Tha’âlebi)  62–63 Il-Arslân 33 Il-Lamash, Atâbeg  21 Ildeguz 297–98 Iltutmush, Shams-al-Din, Sultan  129, 237, 257 Imani az botlân-e nafs dar panâh-e kherad (Kâshâni)  163 India  xxiv, 114, 226–28, 237, 246, 260, 262, 265, 307–10, 317, 321, 323, 326, 329, 353, 359, 361, 364, 369, 371, 394, 400–401, 405–6, 418, 425, 430, 434, 436, 439, 444, 446, 465, 470–73, 514 Indus Valley  307 Innocent IV, Pope  307 Introduction à l’histoire de l’Orient musulman (Sauvaget)  284 Irâd (Âkhundzâde)  486–87 Iraj-nâme (Takallof-khwân) 407 Isâ b. Musâ  63 Isfahan  154, 207, 248, 330, 362–63, 371, 421, 430, 477 Islam, Riazul  2 Islamic History: A Framework for Inquiry (Humphreys)  284 Israel 310 Istanbul  482, 503, 514 see also Constantinople Jâdu (Dashti)  506

Ja’far al-Sâdeq, Imam  62 Ja’fari, Hedâyat-Allâh b. Mo­ hammad Mohsen, Farhang-e ajâyeb al-haqâyeq-e Owrang­shâhi 260 Ja’fari Hoseyni Ahmadâbâdi, Mir Mohammad-Taqi (Khiyâl), Bustân-e khiyâl 434–36 Ja’fari-Qanavâti, Mohammad  443 Jahân, Shah of Khatâ  430 Jahân-nâme (Ebn-Najib Bakrân)  246, 248–51, 262 Jahânghir Shirâzi, Mirzâ  469, 515 Jahângir, Emperor  136, 365, 466 Jahângir-nâme  371, 432–33 Jahângir-nâme (Jahângir)  371, 432–33 Jâhez, Abu Othmân Amr b. Bahr  56, 381, 456 Ketâb al-bayân va’l-tabyin 52 Mi’e kaleme 106–7 Jâjarmi, Badr-al-Din, Mu’nes al-ahrâr 264 Jalâl-al-Din Mirzâ  490–93 Nâme-ye khosrovân 491–92 Jalili, Jahângir Kârvân-e eshq 504 Man ham gerye kardam 504 Jâm, Ahmad-e (Zhende-Pil)  351 al-Jamâhir al-javâher (Biruni)  240–42 Jamâl-al-Din b. Mahfuz  226 Jamâli of Delhi  440 Jamâlzâde, Mohammad Ali  507, 510, 513 Fârsi shekar ast 510 Yeki bud yeki nabud  499, 504–5 Jâme’ al-hekâyât see Javâme’ al-hekâyât (Owfı) Jâme’ al-hekmateyn (Nâser-e Khosrow) 169

538

Index Jâme’ al-olum (Fakhr-al-Din Râzi)  131, 221–23 Jâme’ al-shâhi (Sejzi)  233 Jâme’ al-tamthil (Hablerudi)  470– 71 Jâme’ al-tavârikh (Rashid-al-Din Fazl-Allâh) 310 al-Jâme’ le-mofradât al-adviye va’l-ajdiye (Ebn-alBeytâr) 58 Jâme’-e Abbâsi (Âmeli)  190–91, 193 Jâme’-e Mofıdi (Mohammad Mofıd Mostowfı Bâfqi)  317–18 Jâme’-e Mohammadi (MohammadJa’far Astarâbâdi)  193 Jâme’-e Nâseri (Shari’atmadâr Astarâbâdi) 193–94 Jâme’-e Soleymâni (Nezâm-alDin Musavi)  193 Jâmi, Abd-al-Rahmân  70–71, 166, 183–84, 353–54 Lavâyeh  150, 183–85 Nafahât al-ons men hazarât al-qods  xxxi, 30, 172, 184, 345–47, 349 Jâmi, Pur-Bahā’  51 Jamshid  16, 108, 432 Jamshid Shah  417, 428 Jandaqi, Yaghmâ  490 Japan 483 Javâher al-ajâ’eb (Haravi)  369–70 Javâher-nâme-ye Nezâmi (Ney­ shâburi)  241–42, 261–62 Javâme’ al-hekâyât (Owfı)  457, 461–65, 473–74 Jâvedân kherad (Meskaveyh)  101 Jâvedân-nâme (Kâshâni)  163 Jelve, Mirzâ Abu’l-Hasan  199 Jerusalem 401 Jibâve  400, 402 Jijak Ali Shâh (Behruz)  510

Jili, Majd-al-Din  222 Joghrâfıyâ (Hâfez Abru)  246, 252–53, 317 Johâ (Jowhi)  458–59 Navâder Johâ 459 Joneyd (Sufı scholar)  421 Joneyd, Abu’l-Qâsem (in AbuMoslem-nâme) 341 Jong-e Sâ’eb 360 Jorjâni, Abd-al-Qâher  13 Asrâr al-balâghe 12 al-Jorjâni, al-Sayyed al-Sharif  74– 75 Jorjâni, Esmâ’il  262 Aghrâz al-tebiyye va’lmabâheth 255 Dhakhire-ye Khwârazmshâhi  254–56 Khoffı-ye Alâ’i 255 Joveyni, Alâ’-al-Din Atâ-Malek, Târikh-e jahân-goshây 25, 300, 302, 308–10, 319, 326 Joveyni, Montajab-al-Din Badi’  25, 32, 86 Fath-nâme 21–22 Ketâb-e atabat al-katabe 20–24 Joveyni, Shams-al-Din  236 Jowhari, Mohammad Ebrâhim, Tufân ak-bokâ’ 448–49 Jowhariyye (Neyshâburi)  274 Juzjâni, Abu-Obeyd  155 Kabul 450 Kadu matbakh-e qalandari (Khalkhâli) 468–69 Kadu qelqele-zan 475 Kâfı, Esmâ’il b. Abbâd  48 Kalile va Demne  xxvi, 86, 100, 108, 111–12, 294, 472, 488 Kamâl-al-Dowle, Mohammad Hasan 474

539

PERSIAN PROSE al-Kâmel fıl-ta’rikh (Ebn-alAthir) 296 Kamshad, Hasan  514 Kamuz 398 Kant, Immanuel  xv, 325, 483 Kanz al-sâlekin (Ansâri)  174 Karaji, Mohammad, Ketâb enbât al-miyâh al-khafıyye 260 Karakorum 307–9 Karbala  427, 447–50 Kârvân-e eshq (Jalili)  504 Kârvân-e Hend (Golchin-Ma’âni)  369 Kashan 232 Kâshâni, Abu-Bakr Ali b. Othmân 257 Kâshâni, Abu’l Qâsem  240–41 Arâyes al-javâher fı nafâyes al-atâyeb 242 Kâshâni, Afzal-al-Din (Bâbâ Afzal)  154, 162–63, 167 Imani az botlân-e nafs dar panâh-e kherad 163 Jâvedân-nâme 163 Madârej al-kamâl 163 Mosannafât 162–66 Resâle-ye toffâha (transl.)  163–66 Sâz va pirâye-ye shâhân-e por-mâye 131–32 Yanbu’ al-hayât 163 Kâshefı Sabzavâri, Hoseyn Vâ’ez 347 Akhlâq-e Mohseni  81, 86, 134–36 Anvâr-e Soheyli  86, 100 Badâye’ al-afkâr  79, 86 Fotovvat-nâme-ye soltâni 86, 382–83, 425, 468 Lavâyeh al-qamar 235 Makhzan al-enshâ’  76, 80–86 Resâle-ye Hâtamiyye 48

Rowzat al-shohadâ  426, 448, 468 Sav’e-ye Kâshefıyye 235 Kashf al-asrâr va oddat al-abrâr (Meybodi)  174, 182 Kashf al-mahjub (Hojviri)  30, 169–72, 345 Kashf al-mahjub (Sejzi)  169 Kashghar 115 Kâshi, Ghiyâth-al-Din Jamshid  261, 264 Zij-e Khâqâni/Zij-Ologh Beg  232, 261 Kâshi, Jamshid  264 Kashmir  129, 369, 394, 416 Kasravi, Ahmad  512, 516 Kastamonu 232 Kathir, Khwâje 422 Katouzian, Homa  126 Kavad I  244 Kavâkebi, Abd-al-Rahmân, Tabâye al-estebdâd 206 Kâvus 382 Kayseri 126 Kayumarth 432 Kâzaruni, Abu-Eshâq  351–52 Kâzemi, Mortazâ Moshfeq, Tehrân-e makhuf 503 Kerad-nâme-ye jân-afruz (Mostowfı) 108 Kerman  248, 312 Kermân Shah  417 Kermâni, Abd-al-Hoseyn Mirzâ Âqâ Khan  197, 483, 487–88, 492, 495, 511–12, 514 Reyhân-e bustân-afruz  487, 512 Sad khetâbe 483 Se maktub  483, 488 Kermâni, Âqâ Mirzâ Ebrâhim Zahir, Qesse-ye Vâmeq o Adhrâ 441–42

540

Index Kermânshâhi, Mirzâ Hasan  201 Ketâb adab al-kottâb (Esfahâni) 10 Ketâb ajâ’eb al-makhluqât fı gharâ’eb al-mowjudât (Qazvini)  224, 250, 262 Ketâb al-alfâz (Qodâma b. Ja’far) 9 Ketâb al-badi (Ebn-al-Mo’tazz)  8 Ketâb al-bayân va’l-tabyin (Jâhez) 52 Ketâb al-dokkân (Kuhin-al-Attâr Esrâ’ili) 58 Ketâb al-hashâyesh (Dioscorides)  219, 258 Ketâb al-hekme fı’l-ad’iye va’l-mow’eze le’lomme (Khwâri) 51 Ketâb al-hey’ât (Ordi)  57 Ketâb al-jâme’ le-mofradât al-adviye va’l-ajdiye (Ebn-al-Beytâr) 58 Ketâb al-kâmel fıl-ta’rikh (Ebnal-Athir) 296 Ketâb al-kharâj va senâ’at alketâbe (Qodâma b. Ja’far)  8–9 Ketâb al-majmu’ ow al-hekme al-aruziyye fı ma’âni ketâb Rituriqâ (Ebn-Sinâ)  59–60 Ketâb al-mamâlek va’l-masâlek (Ebn-Khorâdâhbeh) 250–51 Ketâb al-mashâre’ va’l-motârahât (Sohravardi) 159 Ketâb al-mo’ jam (Yâqut)  250 Ketâb al-najât (Ebn-Sinâ)  78 Ketâb al-naqz (Qazvini Râzi)  381–82 Ketâb al-nur men kalemât Abi Teyfur (Sahlaji)  349 Ketâb al-oluf (Balkhi)  233

Ketâb al-senâ’ateyn: al-ketâbe va’l-she’r (Askari)  11 Ketâb al-seydane (Biruni)  257 Ketâb al-tafhim li-avâ’el senâ’at al-tanjim (Biruni)  234, 236, 257, 262 Ketâb al-tebyân (Barqi)  250 Ketâb enbât al-miyâh al-khafıyye (Karaji) 260 Ketâb sovar al-kavâkeb al-thâbete (Sufı)  231, 261, 263 Ketâb taqvim al-boldân (Abu’lFedâ’) 246 Ketâb-ârâyi dar tamaddon-e Eslâmi (Mâyel-Haravi)  276 Ketâb-e Ahmad (Safıne-ye Tâlebi) (Tâlebof) 500 Ketâb-e atabat al-katabe (Joveyni) 20–24 Ketâb-e nur al-olum 349 Ketâb-e sad meydân (Ansâri)  173 Ketâ’i-nâme (Khetâ’i)  253 Key Khosrow I  275 Key Khosrow II  41 Key Khosrow III, Giyâth-alDin 36 Key-Kâvus b. Eskandar, Onsural-Ma’âli 117 Qâbus-nâme  73, 115, 118–19, 135, 262 Keydâvar  400, 401 Keykâvus 433 Keyvân, Âzar  196 Khabushân (Quchân)  464 Khale suske 475 Khâled b. Barmak  63 Khalidov, Anas  74 Khalil Shervâni, Jamâl, Nozhat al-majâles 360 Khalili, Abbâs Asrâr-e shab 503

541

PERSIAN PROSE Enteqâm 503 Ruzegâr-e siyâh 503 Khalkhâli, Adham Qoreyshi Vâ’ez, Kadu matbakh-e qalandari 468–69 Khamse (Nezâmi)  516 Khânbâleq 308 Khâqân Hasan Tekin  21 Khâqâni, Hasan-Ali Monshi, Akhlâq-e Hakimi 135–36 Khâqâni, Qâzi Nur-Allâh, Akhlâq-e Jahângiri 136 Khâqâni Shirvâni  123, 362 Kharaqâni, Abu’l-Hasan  349–50 Khashshâb, Rezâ-al-Din  45 Khâss al-khâss (Tha’âlebi)  11 Khatâ 430 Khâterât (Hâj Sayyâh)  497 Khâterât-e Âref-e Qazvini (Âref Qazvini) 498 al-Khatib, Abu-Bakr  352 Khatibi, Parviz  447, 475 Khâtuni, Abu Tâher, Manâqeb al-sho’arâ 359 Khâvar-nâme (Ebn-Hosâm Khusfı)  390, 428–29 Khaybar 62 Khayyâm, Omar  239, 261 Nowruz-nâme  243, 264 Khâzeni, Abd-al-Rahmân, Mizân al-hekme  239, 250 Khetâ’i, Ali-Akbar, Ketâ’inâme 253 Khezr 476 Khoffı-ye Alâ’i (Jorjâni)  255 Khojandi 263 Kholâsat al-ash’âr va zobdat al-afkâr (Taqi-al-Din Kâshâni) 363–65 Kholâsat al-hesâb (Âmoli)  227 Kholâsat al-sho’arâ 360–61

Kholâsat al-tavârikh (Qomi)  322 Khonji-Esfahâni, Fazl-Allâh b. Ruzbehân, Mehmânnâme-ye Bokhârâ 320 Khorasan  33–34, 51, 65, 77–78, 101, 106, 120, 122, 276, 290, 312, 316–17, 330, 344, 349, 357, 362, 366–67, 409, 422, 444, 460, 464 Khorshid Shah  385, 409–12 Khorshid-e Tâj-bakhsh  436 Khosravi, Mohammad-Bâqer Mirzâ, Shams va toghrâ 501 Khosrow I Anushervan  16, 101, 304–6, 405, 407 Khosrow II  244 Khosrow Dehlavi, Amir  444 Khosrow o Shirin (Nezâmi Ganjavi) 390 Khuzestan 248 Khwadây-nâmag xxvi Khwâf 77 Khwafı, Abu’l-Qâsem Shehâb-alDin Ahmad  76–80 Khwafı, Khwâje Nezâm-alMolk 76 Khwâju of Kerman  432 Khwândamir, Ghiyâth-al-Din Mohammad b. Homâm-alDin  319, 322 Dastur al-vozarâ  76, 355 Habib al-siyar  68, 76, 319–20, 328, 465 Khwânsâri, Ahmad Soheyli  276 Khwânsâri, Âqâ Jamâl, Sharh-e ghorar va dorar 192–93 Khwârazm  65, 222, 312, 316, 433 Khwârazmi, Abu-Bakr  44, 54 Mafâtih al-olum  13, 221 Khwârazmi, Mohammad b. Musâ  245

542

Index Khwâri, Hakim-al-Din Mo­ hammad b. Ali al-Nâmus  71, 85–86 Hadâ’eq al-vathâ’eq 51–52 Ketāb al-hekme fı’l-ad’iye va’l-mow’eze le’lomme 51 Rowzat al-motakallemin 51 Tohfe-ye Jalâliyye 47–48, 50–65, 69 Kimiyâ-ye sa’âdat (Ghazâli)  120– 21, 123, 137 Kohistan 262 Konya  36–37, 41, 133, 299 Korshid-chehr 418 Kratchkovsckiǐ, Ignati  252 Kufa  244, 458 Kuhi-Kermâni, Hoseyn, Chahârdah afsâne az afsânehâ-ye rustâ’i-ye Irân 476 Kuhin-al-Attâr Esrâ’ili, Dâvud b. Abi-Nasr, Ketâb aldokkân 58 Kurdistan 380 Kush-nâme 432 Kushân, Esmâ’il  475 Kutadgu bilig (Yusof Khâss Hâjeb) 115 Lâhiji, Abd-al-Razzâq Gowhar-e morâd 188–89 Sarmâye-ye imâm 189 Lâhiji, Hazin Tadhkerat al-mo’âserin 372 Târikh-e/Tadhkere-ye ahvâl  371–72 Lahore  136, 348, 436 Laknâd 398–99 Lamartine, Alphonse de  506 Latâ’ef al-hekme (Ormavi)  128, 133 Latâ’ef al-tavâ’ef (Safı)  468

Latâyef-nâme (Haravi)  367 Lavâme’ al-eshrâq fı makârem al-akhlâq (Davâni) see Akhlâq-e Jalâli Lavâyeh (Jâmi)  150, 183–85 Lavâyeh (Nuri)  150 Lavâyeh al-qamar (Kâshefı)  235 Leaman, Oliver  85 Leblanc, Maurice  503 Lesage, Alain-René  495 Letters (Eyn-al-Qozât Hamadâni)  178–80 Levant 185 Lewis, Bernard  xxx, 284 Leyli o Majnun (Nezâmi Ganjavi)  390 Liber de pomo (transl. Kâshâni)  163–66 Libya 247 Lobâb al-albâb (Owfı)  20, 359–60 Lobb-e hesâb (Monshi)  228–29 Locke, John  483 Loghat-e murân (Sohravardi)  159 London  497, 513 Loqmân  105, 400, 458 Losensky, Paul  xvi, xxx–xxxi, 339–78 Lowhi, Mir  423 Luther, Kenneth Allin  16–17, 23, 282 Ma’âther al-Rahimi (Nahâvandi)  368–69 Madâ’eni, Abu’l-Hasan Ali b. Mohammad, al-Faraj ba’d al-shedde va’l-ziqat 462 Madârej al-kamâl (Kâshâni)  163 Madâyen 403 Madelung, Wilferd  34 al-Madkhal elâ elm ahkâm al-nojum (Qomi)  218

543

PERSIAN PROSE Mafâtih al-arzâq (Nuri)  260 Mafâtih al-olum (Khwârazmi) 13, 221 Maghreb  250, 252, 400 Mâh-e Nakhshab (Nafısi)  505 Mah-Pari 385 Mahabbat-nâme (Ansâri)  174 Mahallati, Mirzâ Mohammad-Ali (Hâj Sayyâh) Khâterât 497 Mahbub al-qolub (Barkhwordâr Farâhi) 463–65 Mahd-al-Din Mohammad Khwafı  235 Mahdi Khân Dorreh-ye nâdere  323, 484, 490 Târikh-e jahân-goshây-e Nâderi 323 Mahfel-ârâ (Barkhwordâr Farâhi)  464 Mahjub, Mohammad-Ja’far  409, 438, 441 Mahmud II, Sultan  177 Mahmud b. Mohammad, Qavânin-e khotut 277 Mahmud b. Othmân  352 Mahmud of Ghazna  73, 109, 118, 391, 402, 459 Mahmudi Kamâl-al-Vezâre, Mirzâ Ahmad 509–10 Hâji Riyâ’i Khân yâ Târtuf-e sharqi 510 Ostâd Noruz-e pine-duz 510 Majâles al-mo’menin (Shushtari)  355 Majâles al-nafâ’es (Navâ’i)  67–68, 76, 366–68, 370 Majd-al-Din Mohammad Khwâfı 67 Majdi, Majd-al-Din Mohammad Hoseyni, Zinat almajâles  465, 488

Majlesi, Mohammad-Bâqer, Helyat al-mottaqin 192–93 Majma’ al-amthâl (Hablerudi)  470 Majma’ al-fosahâ (Hedâyat)  372 Majma’ al-gharâyeb (Balkhi)  224–25 Majma’-e divânegân (San’atizâde Kermâni) 503 al-Majmu’ ow al-hekme alaruziyye fı ma’âni ketâb Rituriqâ (Ebn-Sinâ)  59–60 Majusi, Ali Ebn-al-Abbâs  253 Makhzan al-adviye (Aqili Khorâsâni) 258 Makhzan al-enshâ’, (Kâshefı)  76, 80–86 Maktubât-e Kamâl-al-Dowle (Âkhundzâde)  483, 495 Malatyavi, Mohammad-e Ghâzi, Barid al-sa’âde 107–8 Malaysia 407 Malek, Sultan of Rum  441 al-Malek al-Sâleh Najm-al-Din Ayyub 134 Malek Bahmân  418–19 Malek Jamshid (Naqib-alMamâlek Shirâzi)  437 Mâlek-e Ashtar  428 Malekshâh  109, 119–20, 239, 261, 296, 325, 437–38 Malkom Khân Nâzem-al-Dowle, Mirzâ  197, 482–86, 488–89, 496, 512–13, 515 Sayyâhi guyad  489, 497, 499 al-Mamâlek va’l-masâlek (EbnKhorâdâdhbeh) 250–51 al-Ma’mun, Caliph  48, 56, 72, 101 Man ham gerye kardam (Jalili)  504 Manâfe al-hayavân (EbnBakhtishu) 263 Manâfe’-e horriyat (Mill)  495

544

Index Manâqeb al-ârefın (Aflâki)  353–54 Manâqeb al-sho’arâ (Khâtuni)  359 Manâzer al-enshâ’ (Gâvân)  2 Manchuria 411 Mansha’ al-enshâ’ (Nezâmi Bâkharzi) 76–80 Mansur b. Mohammad b. Ahmad Shirâzi, Tashrih-e Mansuri  256 Mansur b. Nuh  288 al-Mansur Davâniqi, Abu-Ja’far, Caliph  421, 423 Manuchehr b. QarchqâyKhân 464 Manuchehr Khân Hakim  394 Manuchehri Dâmghâni, Ahmad b. Qows 459 Maqâle-ye alefbâ-ye jadid (Âkhundzâde) 488 Maqâmât al-Hariri (Hariri)  64 Maqâmât (Hamadâni)  12 Maqâmât-e Hamidi (Hamid-alDin Balkhi)  70 Maqâmât-e Jâmi (Nezâmi Bâkharzi) 354 Maqâmât-e Zhende-Pil (Ghaznavi) 351 Maqtal-e Ali (Abu Mekhnaf)  427 Maqtal-e Hoseyn (Abu Mekhnaf)  427 Marâghe  57, 222, 225, 231, 255, 261, 263, 265 Marâghe’i, Zeyn-al-Âbedin  197, 488, 512 Siyâhat-nâme-ye EbrâhimBeyk  497, 499 Marcus Aurelius  495 Mard-e emruz (Mas’ud)  504 Mardân-dokht  402, 412 Mardom va Ferdowsi (Enjavi Shirâzi) 477

Mardom va Shâh-nâme (Enjavi Shirâzi) 477 Markaz-e farhang-e Irân 471 Marlow, Louise  xvi, xxvii, 97–145 Marv  21, 31, 255, 316, 422 Marvân-e Hemâr  422 Marzbân 114–15 Marzbân Shah  410 Marzbân-nâme, (Varâvini)  16, 59, 114–15, 328 Marzbâni, Abd-Allâh, Akhbâr Abi-Moslem sâheb al-da’wa  421 Marzolph, Ulrich  395 Masâlek al-mohsenin (Tâlebof)  500 Masâlek ol-mamâlek (Estakhri)  246 al-Mashâre’ va’l-motârahât (Sohravardi) 159 Mashhad  21, 207 Mashhadi, Soltân-Ali, Serât al-sodur 276 Masih Tokme-band Tabrizi  429–30 Masir-e Tâlebi fı belâd al-Afranji (Abu-Tâleb Landani)  497 Mas’ud Ghaznavi  34 Mas’ud, Mohammad Ashraf-e makhluqât 504 Dar talâsh-e ma’âsh 504 Golhâ’i ke dar jahannam miruyand 504 Mard-e emruz 504 Tafrihât-e shab 504 Mas’udi Bokhâri, Sharaf-al-Din  235 Resâle-ye âthâr-e olvi 239 al-Mathal al-sâ’er fı adab al-kâteb va’l-shâ’er (Ziyâ’-al-Din Ebn-al-Athir) 13 Mathal-hâ-ye Fârsi (Hedâyât)  476 Mathnavi (Rumi)  39–40 Matlub koll tâleb men kalâm Ali b Abi-Tâleb (Vatvât)  107

545

PERSIAN PROSE Mâtoridi  104, 106 Mâyel-Haravi, Najib  180 Ketâb-ârâyi dar tamaddon-e eslâmi 276 Mâzandarân  21, 108, 380 Mâzandarâni, Mohammad Sufı, Bot-khâne 360 Mazdak  304–5, 501 Mâziyâr (Hedâyât)  510 Mecca  226, 252, 403–4, 497 Media  290, 312 Medina 244 Meftâh al-mo’âmelât (Tabari)  229 Meftâh al-olum (Sakkâki)  12, 74 Mehmân-nâme-ye Bokhârâ (Khonji) 320 Mehrân b. Mansur  258 Mehrnegâr  385, 403–4 Meisami, Julie Scott  16, 281–83, 291, 294 Me’mâr b. al-Ash’ath  56 Merrikh (journal)  514 Mersâd al-ebâd men al-mabda’ elâ’l-ma’âd (Râzi)  126–27, 129 Meskaveyh, Abu-Ali  101 Tahdhib al-akhâq  131, 132 Mesopotamia 312 Mesri, Ahmad b. Mohammad al-Nahhâs, Adab al-kottâb 10 Mesri, Dhu’l-Nun  342–43 Meybodi, Rashid-al-Din, Kashf al-asrâr va oddat al-abrâr  174, 182 Meydâni-Nishâpuri, Ahmad b. Mohammad 62 Meyhani, Mohammad b. Abd-alKhâleq 86 Dastur-e-dabiri 17–20 Meysari, Hakim, Dâneshnâme-ye Meysarî  218, 263

Mi’e kaleme (Jâhez)  106–7 Mill, John Stuart  483, 495–96 mille et un jours, Les (Pétis de la Croix) 474 Minorsky, Vladimir  276 Minovi, Mojtabâ  294 Mirkhwând, Mohammad b. Khâwandshâh  318, 322–23 Rowzat al-safâ fı sirat al-anbiyâ va’l-moluk va’l-kholafâ  319–20, 328, 465, 486 Mirzâ Rezâ Khân Afshâr Alefbâ-ye behruzi 196 Parvaz-e negâresh-e Pârsi 196 Mitchell, Colin  xvi–xvii, xxvi– xxvii, 1–96 Miyân Mir  348 Mizân al-hekme (Khâzeni)  239, 250 Mobârakshâh, Fakhr-al-Din, Âdab al-moluk va kefâyat al-mamluk 128–30 Mobârez-al-Din Mohammad b. Mozaffar 257 Modarres Tehrâni, Âqa Ali  197 Badâye’ al-hekam 199–201 Modhakker-e ahbâb (Nesâri Bokhâri) 367 Mo’ezz-al-Din al-Qâ’em be amr-Allâh 435 al-Mo’ezz-al-din Allâh, Abu Tamim Ma’add, Fatimid Caliph 435 Mohammad b. Arslân, Sultan  25 Mohammad b. Hammuye  177 Mohammad b. Malekshâh  121 Mohammad b. Sâm  241 Mohammad Hakim Mirzâ  135 Mohammad Jahân Pahlavân  298 Mohammad Karim Khân Qâjâr (translator) 474

546

Index Mohammad Mofıd Mostowfı Bâfqi, Jâme’e Mofıdi 317–18 Mohammad Shah Qajar  193, 485, 514 Mohammad-Tâher Mirzâ  494 Mohandes, Mirzâ Rezâ  493 Mohâzarât al-adabâ’ (Râgheb Esfahâni) 467 Mohebb-Allâh, Amirzâde  275 Mohtadi, Fazl-Allâh (Sobhi)  476 Afsâne-hâ 476 Afsâne-hâ-ye bâstâni-ye Irân va Majâr 476 Afsâne-hâ-ye Bu-Ali Sinâ 476– 77 Afsâne-hâ-ye kohan 477 Mohyi-al-Din Ebn-al-Zaki  36 Mo’in al-Din Shams  230, 261 Mo’ jam fı ma’âyer ash’âr al’-ajam (Shams-e Qeys Râzi)  14, 86 al-Mo’ jam (Yâqut)  250 Mojmal al-tavârikh va’l-qesas xxx,  285, 295, 327 Mokhtâr b. Abu-Obeyde  340, 426–27 Mokhtâr-nâme (Vâ’ez-e Heravi)  349, 426–27, 429 al-Moktafı, Caliph  109 Molière  495, 510 Molla Nasreddin 469 Mollâ-bâshi (Abd-al-Latif Tasuji Tabrizi) 472 Monâjât-nâme (Ansâri)  150, 172–73 Möngke Khan  242, 309, 312 Mongolia 309 Monsha’ât-e Badr-al-Din Yahyâ (Badr-al-Din Yahyâ)  41 Monsha’ât-e Soleymâni 194–95 Monshi, Ali b. Yusof b. Ali, Lobb-e hesâb 228–29 Monshi, Nur-al-Din  45

Monshi Yazdi, Nâser-al-Din, Dorrat ak-akhbâr 264 al-Montahhal (Tha’âlebi)  11 Moqaddam, Hasan, Ja’ far Khân az farang âmade 510 al-Moqâvamât (Sohravardi)  159 al-Moqtader, Caliph  226 al-Moqtafı, Caliph  33 Morier, James  494 Morshidabad 434 Mortazâ, Sayyed  63 Mosâmarât al-akhbâr (Âqsarâ’i)  302 Mosannafât (Alâ’-al-Dowle Semnâni) 180–83 Mosannafât (Kâshâni)  162–66 Mosayyeb b. Najabe b. Rabi’e b. Riyâh Fazari  427 Mosayyeb-nâme 427–29 Moses 457 Moshir-al-Dowle, Mirzâ Hoseyn Khan Sepahsâlâr  482 Moshtâq, Hoseyn  407 Sandali-nâme 407 al-Mostarshed, Caliph  22 al-Mosta’sem, Caliph  228 Mosta’semi, Yâqut  275 Mostashâr-al-Dowle see Tabrizi, Mirzâ Yusof Khân Mostowfı, Abd-Allâh, Sharh-e zendegâni-ye man yâ Târikh-e ejtemâ’i va edâri-ye dowre-ye Qâjâriye 498 Mostowfı, Abu’l-Fazl Yusof b. Ali xxix Kerad-nâme-ye jân-afruz 108 Mostowfı Qazvini, Hamd-Allâh  252, 311–15, 328 Nozhat al-qolub  243, 246, 249–53, 313, 315, 465 Târikh-e gozide  355–56, 358

547

PERSIAN PROSE Zafar-nâme  311, 313–15, 317–18 Mowdud of Ghazna, Sultan  240 Mow’eze-ye Jahângiri (Mohammad-Bâqer Najmal-Thâni) 136 Mozaffar Shah of Azerbaijan (in Firuzshâh-nâme) 417 Mozaffar-al-Din Shah Qajar  474 Mu’nes al-ahrâr (Jâjarmi)  264 Musavi, Nezâm-al-Din Ali, Jâme’-e Soleymâni 193 Musavi, Ostâd Sayyed Rezâ  63 Nâder Shah  323 Nafahât al-ons men hazarât al-qods (Jâmi)  xxxi, 30, 172, 184, 345–47, 349 Nafâyes al-fonun (Âmoli)  221, 223 Nafısi, Sa’id  506 Dar pirâmun-e târikh-e Beyhaqi 282 Eskandar-nâme (manuscript)  389, 394–95, 408 Farangis 505 Mâh-e Nakhshab 505 Nime-râh-e behesht 505 Setâregân-e siyâh 505 Nafthat al-masdur (Nasavi)  301 Nahâvandi, Abd-al-Bâqi, Ma’âther al-Rahimi 368–69 Nâhid (Filqus’ daughter)  399 Nâ’ini, Mohammad-Hoseyn, Tanbih al-omne va tanzih al-melle 204–6 Najaf 207 al-Najât (Ebn-Sinâ)  238 Najm-al-Din (al-Kobrâ)  29 Najm-al-Thâni, MohammadBâqer, Mow’eze-ye Jahângiri 136 Nakhjavâni, Akmal-al-Din  37

Nakhjavâni, Mohammad b. Hendushâh  24, 71, 86 Dastur al-kâteb fı ta’yin al-marâteb  42–50, 52, 54–56, 60–64, 80, 82–83, 86 Nakhshabi, Abu-Torâb (Sufı saint) 457 Nâme-hâ (Alavi)  507 Nâme-ye khosrovân (Jalâl-al-Din Mirzâ) 491–92 Naqd al-she’r (Qodâma b. Ja’far)  9 Naqib-al-Mamâlek Shirâzi, Mohammad-Ali Amir Arsalân  386, 388–89, 434, 436–39, 441 Malek Jamshid 437 Telesm-e Âsef va hamâm-e bolur 437 Narshakhi, Abu-Bakr Mohammad b. Ja’far, Târikh-e Bokhârâ 285 Nasavi, Abu’-l-Hasan Ali b. Ahmad 234 Bâz-nâme 243 Nasavi, Mohammad Khorandezi Zeydari, Nafthat al-masdur  301 Nasâyeh (Ansâri)  174 Nâser-al-Din Abd-al-Rahim b. Abu-Mansur (Ismaili ruler)  110, 132 Nâser-al-Din Shah Qajar  193–94, 198, 386, 436, 449, 472, 481, 493, 496, 510 Nâser-e Khosrow  166, 362 Goshâyesh va rahâyesh 167–68 Jâme’ al-hekmateyn 169 Safar-nâme  167, 249, 496 Vajh-e din 169 Zâd-al-mosâferin 168–69

548

Index Nasihat al-moluk (Ghazâli)  103, 121–22 Nasir-al-Din Mohtasham (Ismaili ruler) 262 Nasir-al-Din Tâher b. Fakhr-alMolk b. Nezâm-al-Molk  22 Nasr, Seyyed Ali  510 Nasr b. Ahmad (Samanid ruler)  109 Nasr-al-Din, Mollâ (Nasr-al-Din Khwâja) 459 Nasr-Allâh b. Mohammad Monshi, Kalile va Demne 100 Nasr-e Sayyâr  422 Nasrâbâdi, Mohammad Tâher, Tadhkere-ye Nasrâbâdi 368, 370, 385 Nâteli, Abu-Abd-Allâh  219, 258 Nathr al-nazm va hall al-eqd (Tha’âlebi) 11 Navâder al-hekâyât va gharâyeb al-revâyât (Qazvini)  465–66 Navâder al-vaqâye’ (Dânesh)  326 Navâder Johâ (Johâ)  459 Navâ’i, Mir Ali-Shir  319 Majâles al-nafâ’es  67–68, 76, 366–68, 370 Nâzem-al-Olum, Ali Khan  501 Nehâyat al-edrâk fı derâyat al-aflâk (Shirâzi)  231–32 Ne’mat-Allâh 275 Nesâri Bokhâri, Sayyed Hasan, Modhakker-e ahbâb 367 Neyshâburi, Mohammad b. Abi’l-Barakât Jowhari  240 Javâher-nâme-ye Nezâmi 241– 42, 261–62 Neyshâburi, Simi, Jowhariyye 274 Nezâm-al-Din Owliyâ, Favâ’ed al-fo’âd 353 Nezâm-al-Molk  26, 31, 66, 117, 119, 136, 314

Siyar al-moluk (Siyâsatnâme)  83, 115, 119–20, 122, 137, 303–5 Nezâmi Aruzi Samarqandi, Abu’l-Hasan, Chahâr maqâle  14, 48, 50, 72–73, 116, 262, 295–96, 327, 462 Nezâmi Bâkharzi, Nezâm-al-Din Abd-al-Vâse’ 68 Mansha’ al-enshâ’ 76–80 Maqâmât-e Jâmi 354 Nezâmi Ganjavi  1, 69, 123, 300, 471 Eskandar-nâme 390 Haft Peykar 263 Khamse 516 Khosrow o Shirin 390 Leyli o Majnun 390 Nezâmi, Hasan-e  79 Nime-râh-e behesht (Nafısi)  505 Nishâburi, Abu’l-Ma’âli  407 Nishapur  316, 344, 350 Noh Manzar (anon.)  263 Nojum al-olum 237 No’mân b. Mondher  109 Nosrat-al-Din Ahmad  130 Nowbahâr (newspaper)  515–16 Nowruz-nâme ([pseudo]Khayyâm)  243, 264 Nozhat al-majâles (Khalil Shervâni) 360 Nozhat al-qolub (Mostowfı Qazvini)  243, 246, 249–53, 313, 315, 465 Nozhat-nâme-ye Alâ’i (Shah­ mardân b. Abi’l-Kheyr Râzi)  219, 234 Nuh I b. Nasr (Samanid ruler)  113 Nuh II b. Mansur (Samanid ruler)  48, 72, 105, 211 Nur al-olum 349

549

PERSIAN PROSE Owsâne (Hedâyât)  476 Oyun al-akhbâr (Qoteybe)  61

al-Nur men kalemât Abi Teyfur (Sahlaji) 349 Nuri, Abu’l-Hoseyn  457 Nuri, Mohammad Yusof, Mafâtih al-arzâq 260 Nuri, Sheykh Fazl-Allâh, Lavâyeh 150 Nushirvân  403, 404 see also Anushervan Nushirvân-nâme 406 Oljâytu  130, 242 Olynthus 391 Oman  394, 398 Omar, Caliph  121, 456 Omayye Zamri  403 One Thousand and One Nights  443, 445, 472–75 Onsori  391, 442 Ordi, Mo’ayyad-al-Din, Ketâb al-hey’ât 57 Orjuzâ fıl-tebb (Ebn-Sinâ)  263 Ormavi, Serâj-al-Din, Latâ’ef al-hekme  128, 133 Ostâd Noruz-e pine-duz (Mahmudi Kamâl-alVezâre) 510 Ostâji, Jamâl  457–58, 460 Osul va qavâ’ed-e khotut-e sette (Sabzavâri) 277 Otbi, Abu’l-Hasan  221 Othmân, Caliph  62, 456 Ottoman Empire  482–83 Oveys, Sheykh  43, 46, 48 Owfı, Sadid-al-Din Mohammad  24, 461, 462 Javâme’ al-hekâyât 457, 461–65, 473–74 Lobâb al-albâb  20, 358–60 Owhadi Balyâni, Arafât al-âsheqin va arasât al-ârefın 363–66

Pañcatantra 100 Pand-nâme (Sebuktigin)  118 Pand-nâme-ye Mâtoridi  104, 106 Pand-nâme-ye qeysar-e Rum (Marcus Aurelius)  495 Panjâh o se nafar (Alavi)  507 Parichehr (Hejâzi)  505 Pârsi, Manakji  492 Parsinejad, Iraj  xvii, xxxii, 481–517 Partovi-Âmoli, Mehdi  471 Partow-nâme (Sohravardi)  158–62 Parvaz-e negâresh-e Pârsi (Mirzâ Rezâ Afshâr)  196 Parvin dokhtar-e Sâsân (Hedâyât)  510 Paul, Jürgen  3 Persepolis 101 Peshawar 436 Peter I the Great of Russia  493 Pétis de la Croix, François, Les mille et un jours 474 Philip of Macedon  393, 399 Pir Moh. b. Omar Sheykh EbnTimur 256 Pir Mohammad of Balkh  224 Piruzi-nâme (Zafar-nâme) (ascribed to Bozorg­ mehr) 105 Pirzâde, Hâjji, Safar-nâme 497 Pistor-Hatam, Anja  283–84 Plato  59, 108–9, 131–32, 134, 400, 496 Poetics (Aristotle)  9, 467 Poliakova, E. A.  309 Polo, Marco  308 Pratt, Mary Louise  281 Proudhon, Pierre-Joseph  483

550

Index pseudo-Ptolemy 236 Ptolemy  109, 230–31, 233, 245, 251, 400 Almagest  232, 262 Geography 245 Punjab  307, 406 Qâbus (character in Dârâb-nâme)  412 Qâbus b. Vashmgir, Shams-alMa’âli  20, 107 Qâbus-nâme (Key-Kâvus b. Eskandar)  73, 115, 118–19, 135, 262 al-Qâder-be’llâh, Caliph  73 al-Qâ’em be-amr-Allâh, Abu’lQâsem Mohammad, Fatimid Caliph 435 Qâ’em-maqâm Farâhani, Mirza Abu’l-Qâsem 485 Qahramân  396, 424–25 Qahramân-nâme (Tarsusi)  396, 421, 424–25 Qalandar-nâme (Ansâri)  174 Qalqashandi, Ahmad b. Ali  275 Qantarash, King of Oman  398 Qânun (newspaper)  485, 513, 515 Qânun al-boldân (anon.)  252 al-Qânun fı’l-tebb (Ebn-Sinâ)  78, 253–54 Qa’qâ’ b. Amr Tamini  427 Qarache Dâghi, Mirzâ Mohammad-Ja’far 508 Qattân Marvazi, Eyn-al-Zamân Hasan b. Ali, Geyhânshenâkht 229–30 Qavânin-e khotut (Mahmud b. Mohammad) 277 Qazvin 459 Qazvini, Abd-al-Nabi Fakhr-alZamâni

Navâder al-hekâyât va gharâyeb al-revâyât 465– 66 Tarâz al-akhbâr 466 Tazkere-ye meykhâne 466 Qazvini, Ali Khan  407 Qazvini, Fazl-Allâh, Tohfe dar akhlâq va siyâsat 130 Qazvini, Hakim-Shâh Mohammad 367–68 Qazvini, Jalâl-al-Din, Talkhis al-Meftâh 12 Qazvini, Mohammad  424 Qazvini, Zakariyâ’, Ajâyeb al-makhluqât va gharâyeb al-mowjudât  224, 250, 262 Qazvini Râzi, Abd-al-Jalil, Ketâb al-naqz 381–82 Qerân Habashi (Qerân of Abyssinia)  396, 423–24 Qeritikâ (Âkhundzâde)  486 Qessat al-Amir Hamzat alBahlavân 405 Qessat Firuzshâh b. al-Malek Zârâb 413 Qesse-hâ-ye Irâni (Enjavi Shirâzi)  477 Qesse-hâ-ye mardom (coll. Vakiliyân et. al.)  477 Qesse-hâ-ye mardom-e Fârs (Faqiri) 477 Qesse-khwân, Shâhnazar, Zobdat al-romuz 407 Qesse-ye Ahraf Khân va sargozasht-e se darvish 444 Qesse-ye Amir Arsalân see Amir Arsalân Qesse-ye chahâr darvish 444 Qesse-ye Dalile Mohtâle 445–46 Qesse-ye Firuzshâh 384–85, 387–88, 391, 413–19, 440

551

PERSIAN PROSE Qesse-ye Hamze  349, 385–87, 391, 394–95, 402–8 Qesse-ye Hasan Kachal 475 Qesse-ye Hoseyn-e Kord-e Shabestari  383, 386–87, 429–31, 434, 465 Qesse-ye Mâh pishâni’ 475 Qesse-ye Mehr o Mâh 439–40 Qesse-ye Nush-âfarin-e Gowhartâj 440–41 Qesse-ye Qahramân-e Qâtel (Tarsusi) see Qahramânnâme Qesse-ye Qerân-e Habashi (Tarsusi)  396, 421, 423–24 Qesse-ye Sayyid Joneyd  421, 443 Qesse-ye Shiruye 441 Qesse-ye Soleymân (Tabrizi)  460–61 Qesse-ye Vâmeq o Adhrâ (Kermâni) 441–42 Qesse-ye Zamji-nâme 422 Qezel Arslân  298, 325 Qobâd  402–3, 423–24 Qodâma b. Ja’far  8–9 Ketâb al-alfâz 9 Ketâb al-kharâj va senâ’at al-ketâbe 8–9 Naqd al-she’r 9 Qohestâni, Abu-Bakr  73 Qolizâde, Jalil Mohammad  469 Qom  207, 285 Qomi, Abu-Nasr Hasan, alMadkhal elâ elm ahkâm al-nojum 218 Qomi, Hasan b. Mohammad b. Hasan, Târikh-e Qom 285 Qomi, Mohammad Fâtemi  201 Qomi, Najm-al-Din Abu’l-Rajâ’, Dheyl-e Nafthat al-masdur  301

Qomi, Qâzi Ahmad b. Sharaf-alDin, Kholâsat al-tavârikh 322 Qomi, Qâzi Mir Ahmad Monshi, Golestân-e honar  276, 278, 354 Qomshe’i, Âqâ Mohammad-Rezâ  199 Qorâze-ye tabi’iyyât (Ebn-Sinâ)  266 Qosheyri, Abu’l-Qâsem  122, 350–51 Resâle 345 al-Qossâs va’l-modhakkerin (Ebn-al-Jowzi) 456–57 Qotb-al-Din Mohammad  254–55 Qotb-al-Din Shirâzi  37 Qoteybe, Abu Abd-Allâh Mohammad b. Moslem b., Oyun al-akhbâr 61 Qubilai Khan  308, 313 Quhestan 132 Quinn, Sholeh  322 Rabâbi, Abu-Bakr (rebec player)  459 Râbe’e of Basra  457 Rabi’, Ali-nâme 402 Râduyâni, Mohammad b. Omar, Tarjomân al-balâghe 13–14 Rafıqi-Haravi, Majnun, Âdâb al-mashq 277 Rag-shenâsi (Ebn-Sinâ)  219, 264 Râgheb Esfahâni, Abu’l-Qâsem  457 Mohâzarât al-adabâ’ 467 al-Rahabi, Mohammad b. Bahr  249 Râhat al-sodur (Râvandi)  274–75, 296–300, 302, 310, 318, 325 Ra’is-Firuz, Mehdi  447 Râmi, Mohammad  219, 258 Ra’nâ va Zibâ (Barkhwordâr Farâhi) 463–64

552

Index Rasâ’el (Ekhvân al-Safâ)  153 Rashahât-e eyn al-hayât (Safı)  347–48 Râshedi, Hosâm-al-Din, Tadhkere-ye sho’arâ-ye Kashmir 369 Rashid-al-Din Fazl-Allâh (Hamadâni)  43, 51, 264, 282, 308, 310, 318, 326–27 Âthâr va ehyâ 259 Jâme’ al-tavârikh 310 Tansuq-nâme yâ tebb-e ahl-e Khetâ 255 Târikh-e mobârak-e Ghâzân Khân 310–11 Rashide 421 Râvandi, Mohammad b. Ali b. Soleymân, Râhat al-sodur  274–75, 296–300, 302, 310, 318, 325 Rayhâni, Ali b. Obayda  99 Rayy  34, 101, 126, 131 Râzi, Abu-Bakr Mohammad b. Zakariyâ (Rhazes)  253 Râzi, Abu’l-Fotuh, Tafsir 193 Râzi, Fakhr-al-Din Mohammad  133, 262, 264 al-Serr al-maktum fı mokhâtebât al-nojum  237–38 Jâme’ al-olum  131, 221–23 Râzi, Najm-al-Din Dâye  29, 129 Mersâd al-ebâd men al-mabda’ elâ’l-ma’âd 126–27 Râzi, Qavâm-al-Din Mohammad  189 Eyn al-hekme 189 Ta’liqât 189–90 Râzi, Shams-al-Din Mohammad b. Qeys, Mo’ jam fı ma’âyer ash’âr al’-ajam  14, 86 Reinert, Benedikt  15

Resâlat al-teyr (Sohravardi)  159 Resâle (Qosheyri)  345 Resâle dar hesâb 228 Resâle dar jabr va moqâbele 228 Resâle elâ’ l-kottâb (Abd-alHamid b. Yahyâ Kâteb)  7 Resâle-ye âthâr-e olvi (Esfezâri)  239 Resâle-ye âthâr-e olvi (Mas’udi Bokhâri) 239 Resâle-ye del va jân (Ansâri)  174 Resâle-ye delgoshâ (Zâkâni)  467 Resâle-ye Hâtamiyye (Kâshefı Sabzavâri) 48 Resâle-ye manâqeb-e Emâm Ahmad b. Hanbal (Ansâri) 174 Resâle-ye Mo’iniyye dar hay’e (Tusi)  230, 231, 261 Resâle-ye qavânin (Esfezâri)  67–75 Resâle-ye Sanjariyye (Sâvaji)  239 Resâle-ye toffâha (transl. Kâshâni)  163–66 Resâle-ye Vâredât (Ansâri)  174 Reyhân-e bustân-afruz (Kermâni)  487, 512 Reyhâne Bent-al-Hasan  234, 262–63 Reynolds, George W. M., Buse-ye adhrâ 501 Rezâ Shah  500, 507–10 Rezavi, Ghiyâth-al-Din Mo­ hammad 258 Rhetoric (Aristotle)  9, 59 Richard, Francis  xvii, xxix, 274–78 Richards, I. A.  280 Rishe-hâ-ye târikhi-ye amsâl va hekam (ed. Partovi-Âmoli)  471 Ritter, Hellmut  15 Riyâhi, Mohammad-Amin  37, 41

553

PERSIAN PROSE Riyâz al-abrâr (Rostamdâri)  223 Riyâz al-ârefın (Rezâ-Qoli Khân Hedâyat) 372 Riyâz al-sho’arâ (Vâleh Dâghestâni) 365 Rob’-e Rashidi  255, 259 Roemer, H. R.  3 Rokn-al-Din Abu’l-Mozaffar Kılıç Tamğâç Khâqân b. Jâlal-al-Din  109, 112 Romuz-e Hamze  395, 406–7, 420 Rostam  109, 382, 396, 416, 432–34 Rostam at-tavârîkh (Mohammad Hâshem)  323–26, 328 Rostam-al-Hokamâ see Hâshem, Mohammad Rostam-nâme 432–34 Rostamdâri, Riyâz al-abrâr 223 Rousseau, Jean-Jacques  483, 500 Rowh al-arvâh (Sam’âni)  182–83 Rowzat al-jannat fı owsâf madinat Harât (Esfezâri)  70 Rowzat al-kottâb va hadiqat al-albâb (Ebn-al-Zaki)  35– 42, 44, 46, 50, 52, 68 Rowzat al-monajjemin (Shahmardân b. Abi’l-Kheyr Râzi)  219, 234–35, 490 Rowzat al-motakallemin (Khwâri)  51 Rowzat al-safâ fı sirat al-anbiyâ va’l-moluk va’l-kholafâ (Mirkhwând)  319–20, 328, 465, 486 Rowzat al-shohadâ (Kâshefı Sabzavâri)  426, 448, 468 Rowzat al-taslim (Tusi)  52 Roxburgh, David  4–5 Rubanovich, Julia  4 Rudaki, Abu’l-Hasan  363–64 Rudgar, Qanbar-Ali  51–52

Ruhi, Shaikh Ahmad  514 Rum  36, 126, 275, 300, 399, 403–4, 406, 416–17, 437–38, 441, 444 Rumi, Jalâl-al-Din  37, 39, 52, 353–54, 471 Fihe mâ fıh 353 Mathnavi 39–40 Rumlu, Hasan, Ahsan altavârikh 331 Russia  307, 313, 394, 482, 489 Ruz-afzun 402 Ruz-nâme-ye khâterât-e E’temâd-al-Saltane (E’temâd-al-Saltane) 498 Ruzbehân Baqli, Sheykh Abu Mohammad 275 Ruzegâr-e siyâh (Khalili)  503 Ruzi bâ jamâ’at-e sufıyân (Sohravardi) 159 Rypka, Jan  16, 30–31, 515 History of Iranian Literature 280 Sâbi, Abu-Eshâq  11, 12 Sabk-shenâsi yâ târikh-e tatavvor-e nathr-e Fârsi (Bahâr)  279, 284–85 Sabuhi 385 Sabzavar  357, 358 Sabzavâri, Fath-Allâh, Osul va qavâ’ed-e khotut-e sette 277 Sabzavâri, Hâjj Mollâ Hâdi  197, 201 Asrâr al-hekam 198 Sa’d b. Zangi  124 Sa’d II b. Abu-Bakr  124–25 Sad khetâbe (Kermâni)  483 Sad meydân (Ansâri)  173 Sa’d-e Vaqqâs  428 Sad-kaleme (pseudo-Ptolemy)  236 Sadaqe b. Abi’l Qâsem of Shiraz 408–9

554

Index Sa’di, Mosleh-al-Din  124–26, 390, 471 Bustân  98, 111–12, 124–25 Golestân  98, 111–12, 123–26, 135, 488, 495 Sadr-al-Din Qonavi  37 Sadrâ, Mollâ (Sadr-al-Din Mo­ hammad b. Ebrâhim Qavâm Shirâzi)  186, 197–201 Se Asl 186–88 Sâ’eb Tabrizi  390 Safâ, Dhabih-Allâh  26, 30, 413–15 Safar-nâme (Amin-al-Dowle)  497 Safar-nâme (Nâser-e Khosrow)  167, 249, 496 Safar-nâme (Pirzâde)  497 Safar-nâme-ye Abu Tâleb Landani (Abu-Tâleb Landani)  497 Safar-nâme-ye Mirzâ Sâleh Shirâzi (Sâleh Shirâzi)  497 Saffâh, Caliph  109, 423 Safı, Fakhr-al-Din Ali Latâ’ef al-tavâ’ef 468 Rashahât-e eyn al-hayât 347–48 Safı-al-Din Eshâq Ardabili, Sheikh 352–53 Safına 360 Safınat al-owliyâ (Dârâ Shokuh)  348 Safır-e Simorgh (Sohravardi)  159 Safvat al-safâ (Ebn-Bazzâz)  352–53 Sag-e velgard (Hedâyât)  507 Sâheb b. Abbâd  12, 54 Sâheb-qerân-nâme 406 Sahl b. Hârun b. Râhaveyh  99 Sahlaji, Mohammad b. Ali, Ketâb al-nur men kalemât Abi Teyfur 349 Sajâsi, Eshâq b. Ebrahim, Farâ’ed alsoluk fı fazâ’el al-moluk  124 Sajjâdi, Sayyed Ziyâ-al-Din  5

Sakinat al-owliyâ (Dârâ Shokuh)  348 Sakkâki, Abu-Ya’qub Yusof, Meftâh al-olum  12, 74 Saksena, Bhimsen, Târikh-e delgoshâ 321 Saladin 25 Sâlâr, Hosâm-al-Din  228 Sâleh b. Jalâl  418 Salêh Shirâzi, Mirzâ Mohammad  514 Safar-nâme-ye Mirzâ Sâleh Shirâzi 497 Salim-e Javâheri 443–44 Saljuq-nâme (Zahir-al-Din)  282 Salmân Fâresi  62 Sâm 432 Sâm Châresh, King of Egypt  396– 97 Sâm Mirzâ  322 Tohfe-ye Sâmi 367–68 Sâm-nâme 432 Samak-e ayyâr  381, 383, 385, 387, 391, 393, 402, 408–15, 424, 432, 440 Sam’âni, Ahmad, Rowh al-arvâh  182–83 Samarqand  xxiii, xxv, 21, 73, 108, 219, 225, 232, 258, 264–65 Samarqandi, Mohammad Fâzel, Javaher al-olum-e Homâyuni 223 Sanâ’i 123 Sanâ’i Ghaznavi, Hadiqat alhaqiqe 40 San’atizâde Kermâni, Abd-alHosayn Dâm-gostarân yâ Enteqâmkhwâhân-e Mazdak 501 Majma’-e divânegân 503 Sandali-nâme (Moshtâq)  407

555

PERSIAN PROSE Sang-e sabur (Enjavi Shirâzi)  477 Sâni, Najm-e  362 Sanjar b. Malekshâh, Sultan  20–22, 24, 108–9, 239, 255, 296–97 Sarakhs 108 Sargozasht-e Telemak (Fénelon)  501 Sargozasht-e yek ruz-nâme-negâr (Fekri Ershâd)  509 Sarmâye-ye imâm (Lâhiji)  189 Sauvaget, Jean  xxx Introduction à l’histoire de l’Orient musulman 284 Sâvaji, Nezâm-al-Din  191 Sâvaji, Omar b. Sahlân, Resâle-ye Sanjariyye 239 Sav’e-ye Kâshefıyye (Kâshefı)  235 Sâye rowshan (Hedâyât)  507 Sayyâhi guyad (Malkom Khân)  489, 497, 499 Sâz va pirâye-ye shâhân-e pormâye (Afzal-al-Din Kâshâni) 131–32 Se Asl (Mollâ Sadrâ)  186–88 Se maktub (Kermâni)  483, 488 Se qatre khun (Hedâyât)  507 Sebuktigin, Pand-nâme 118 Sejzi, Abu-Ya’qub Eshâq b. Ahmad (Sejestâni), Kashf al-mahjub 169 Sejzi, Ahmad b. Mohammad Abd-al-Jalil, Jâme’e alshâhi 233 Selim, Sultan  367, 418 Semnâni, Ahmad b. Mohammad see Alâ-al-Dowle Semnâni, Ahmad b. Mohammad Sendbâd-nâme (Zahiri Samarqandi)  112–14, 444 Serâj-al-Dowle, Nawab of Bengal 434 Serâj-Shirâzi, Ya’qub b. Hasan  276

Tohfat al-mohebbin 275 Serât al-sodur (Mashhadi)  276 Serbia 407 al-Serr al-maktum fı mokhâtebât al-nojum (Râzi)  237–38 Setâregân-e siyâh (Nafısi)  505 al-Settin al-jâme’ le-latâ’ef albasâtin (Ahmad b. Mo­ hammad b. Zeyd Tusi)  460 Seyr-e hekmat dar Orupâ (Forughi) 496 Seyrafı, Abd-Allâh, Golzâr-e safâ 274 Sezji Dehlavi, Amir-Hasan  353 Shab-e Ferdowsi (Behruz)  510 Shâh Shojâ (Mozaffarid ruler)  257 Shah-Malek 393 Shâh-nâme (Ferdowsi)  xxx, 84, 106, 108–9, 250, 306, 311, 313–15, 317, 384–87, 389–91, 396, 402, 463, 477 tumârs (scrolls)  432–34 Shahjahanabad  430, 434 Shahmardân b. Abi’l-Kheyr Râzi 234–35 Nozhat-nâme-ye Alâ’i  219, 234 Rowzat al-monajjemin 219, 234–35, 490 Shahrâbi, Mohammad Hoseyn, Tariq al-bokâ’ 449–50 Shahrazâd 473 Shahrestânîhâ î Êrânshahr 244 Shahrnâz (Dowlatâbâdi)  503 Shâhrokh  65, 75 Shakibi of Isfahan  364–65 Shakmun Khan  418 Shakvâ al-gharib (Eyn-al-Qozât Hamadâni) 177 Shâmi, Nezam-al-Din, Zafarnâme 317 Shams va toghrâ (Khosravi)  501

556

Index Shams-e Qeys see Râzi Sharh-e ghorar va dorar (Khwânsâri) 192–93 Sharh-e Meftâh al-olum (Taftâzâni) 12 Sharh-e zendegâni-ye man yâ Târikh-e ejtemâ’i va edâri-ye dowre-ye Qâjâriye (Mostowfı) 498 Sharvin 114 She’âr, Ja’far  402 al-Shefâ’ (Ebn-Sinâ)  78, 238–40, 243 Shekar-riz, Mollâ Ali (Jâmi Shekar-riz) 406–7 Shesh-fasl (Mohammad b. Ayyub Tabari) 229 Shiraz  98, 108, 207, 223, 232, 260, 276, 323–24, 328, 365, 408–9 Shirâzi, Abd-al-Aziz b. Yusof  12 Shirâzi, Qotb-al-Din Dorrat al-tâj 223–24 Ekhtiyârât-e Mozaffari 230–31 Nehâyat al-edrâk fı derâyat al-aflâk 231–32 Shiruye nâmdâr see Qesse-ye Shiruye Shomâr-nâme (Mohammad b. Ayyub Tabari)  229 Shuride, Mowlâna  407 Shushtari, Nur-Allâh, Majâles al-mo’menin 355 Si afsâne az afsâne-hâ-ye mahalli-ye Esfahân (Amini)  477 Sinope 232 Sirus-e kabir (Fekri Ershâd)  509 Sistân 285 Sivas 127 Siyâh-push, Mohammad  432 Siyâhat-nâme-ye Ebrâhim-Beyk (Marâghe’i)  497, 499

Siyâmak 432 Siyar al-moluk/Siyâsat-nâme (Nezâm-al-Molk)  83, 115, 119–20, 122, 137, 303–5 So’âl-e del az jân (Ansâri) see Resâle-ye del va jân Socrates  108, 458, 496 Soghdiana  312, 316 Sohbi see Mohtadi, Fazl-Allâh Sohof-e Ebrâhim (Ali Ebrâhim Khân Khalil)  365–66 Sohrâb  245, 382, 433 Sohravardi, Shehâb-al-Din  154, 158–60, 167, 186, 222, 264 al-Moqâvamât 159 al-Talvilât 159 Aql-e sorkh 159 Âvâz-e par-e jebra’il 159 Bostân al-qolub 159 Fi hâlat al-tofuliyye 159 Fi haqiqat al-eshq 159 Hayâkel al-nur 159 Hekmat al-eshrâq  79, 159 Ketâb al-mashâre’ va’lmotârahât 159 Loghat-e murân 159 Partow-nâme 158–62 Resâlat al-teyr 159 Ruzi bâ jamâ’at-e sufıyân 159 Safır-e Simorgh 159 Yazdân-shenâkht 159 Solami, Abu Abd-al-Rahmân, Tabaqât al-sufıyye  174, 184, 344–46 Solaymân/Solomon  109, 461 Soleymân I, Shah  193 Soltân Malek of Rum  441 Soltân-Hoseyn 324 Soltân-Hoseyn Bâyqarâ  65, 67, 70, 75–79, 82, 134, 235, 319, 367, 371

557

PERSIAN PROSE Soltân-Khalil 134 Soltâniyye 222 Sorur, Shah of Yemen  416–17 Sorush Esfahâni  486 Sorush, Mirzâ Mohammad Ali 472 Sovar al-aqâlim (Abu Zeyd Balkhi) 250–51 Sovar al-kavâkeb al-thâbete (Sufı)  231, 261, 263 Sovar-e darajât-e Tangeloshâ (Teucros) 237 Spinoza, Baruch  483 Spuler, Bertold  xxix–xxx, 284, 291 Stetkevych, Suzanne  6 Subtelny, Maria  66, 74–75, 86, 134, 260 Sufı, Abd-al-Rahmân, Ketâb sovar al-kavâkeb althâbete  231, 262–63 Suli, Abu-Bakr Mohammad, Adab al-kottâb 10 Sur-e Esrâfıl (newspaper)  469, 505, 515 Switzerland 510 Syria  286, 290, 293, 404, 417, 443 Tabaqât al-khotabâ (Esfahâni)  10 Tabaqât al-sufıyye (Ansâri)  174, 184, 346, 353 Tabaqât al-sufıyye (Solami)  344–46 Tabarestan 118 Tabari, Abu-Ja’far Mohammad b. Jarir, Ta’rikh ar-rosol va’l-moluk  xxv, xxx, 16, 286–89, 293, 304, 318–19, 328 Tabari, Ehsân  502–3 Tabari, Mohammad b. Ayyub A’mâl va alqâb 229 Meftâh al-mo’âmelât 229

Shesh-fasl 229 Shomâr-nâme 229 Tabâye al-estebdâd (Kavâkebi) 206 Tabriz  xxiv, 255, 259, 413, 430, 472 Tabrizi, Abu Ya’qub b. Aki b. Omar, Qesse-ye Soleymân 460–61 Tabrizi, Âqâ Mohammad-Tâher  514 Tabrizi, Mirzâ Rezâ  493 Tabrizi, Mirzâ Yusof Khân  197, 202–3 Yak kaleme  202–4, 496 Tabrizi, Mohammad-Hoseyn b. Khalaf, Borhân-e qâte’ 197 Tabrizi, Mollâ Rajab-Ali  189 Ethbât-e vâjeb 189 Tadhkerat al-mo’âserin (Lâhiji)  372 Tadhkerat al-nesâ (Âkhundzâde)  370 Tadhkerat al-owliyâ (Attâr)  172, 341–45, 348 Tadhkerat al-sho’arâ (Dowlatshâh Samarqandi)  356–59, 361 al-Tadhkere fı elm al-hay’e (Tusi)  230, 265 Tadhkere-ye meykhâne (Fakhr-alZamâni Qazvini)  370 Tadhkere-ye Nasrâbâdi (Nasrâbâdi)  368, 370, 385 Tadhkere-ye sho’arâ-ye Kashmir (Aslah) 369 Tadhkere-ye sho’arâ-ye Kashmir (Râshedi) 369 al-Tafhim li-avâ’el senâ’at altanjim (Biruni)  234, 236, 257, 262 Tafrihât-e shab (Mas’ud)  504 Tafsir (Abu’l-Fotuh Râzi)  193

558

Index Tafsir ketâb Deyusquridus (Ebnal-Beytâr) 58 Tafsir-e qesse-ye Yusof see alSettin al-jâme’ le-latâ’ef al-basâtin (Ahmad b. Mohammad b. Zeyd Tusi) Taftâzâni, Sa’d-al-Din Mas’ud b. Omar b. Abd-Allâh  74–75 Sharh-e Meftâh al-olum 12 Taghmâj 393–94 Tahdhib al-akhâq (Meskaveyh)  131–32 Tâher b. Abd-Allâh, Khwâje 34 Tahmâsp, Shah  322, 355, 367, 386, 465 Tahmurath Div-band  424, 432 Takallof-khwân, Zeyn-alÂbedin 407 Iraj-nâme 407 Tâlebof Tabrizi, Abd-al-Rahim  197, 489, 491–93, 499, 512 Ketâb-e Ahmad (Safıne-ye Tâlebi) 500 Masâlek al-mohsenin 500 Ta’liqât (Qavâm-al-Din Râzi)  189–90 Talkhak (Talhak/Dalqak)  459 Talkhis al-Meftâh (Jalâl-al-Din Qazvini) 12 al-Talvilât (Sohravardi)  159 Tamhidât (Eyn-al-Qozât Hamadâni) 177–78 Tamrusiye 398–99 Tamthil va mathal 471 Tamthilât (Âkhundzâde)  508–9 Tanbih al-omne va tanzih almelle (Nâ’ini)  204–6 Tansar 100 Tansar-nâme 100 Tansukh-nâme-ye Ilkhâni (Nasiral-Din Tusi)  242, 250

Tansuq-nâme yâ tebb-e ahl-e Khetâ (Rashid-al-Din Fazl-Allâh) 255 Tanukhi, Qâzi Abu-Ali Mohassen, al-Faraj ba’d al-shedde 462 Taqavi, Sayedd Nasr-Allâh (Sâdât Akhavi) 201 Taqi-al-Din Kâshâni, Kholâsat al-ash’âr va zobdat alafkâr 363–65 Taqvim al-boldân (Abu’l-Fedâ’)  246 Tarâz al-akhbâr (Fakhr-alZamâni Qazvini)  406 Târikh al-vozarâ’ see Dheyl-e Nafthat al-masdur (Najmal-Din Qomi) Ta’rikh ar-rosol va’l-moluk (Ta’rikh al-Tabari) (Tabari)  xxv, xxx, 286–89, 293, 304, 318–19, 328 Târikh-e ahvâl bâ tadhkere-ye khod (Hazin)  323 Târikh-e âlamârâ-ye Abbâsi (Eskander Beyg Monshi)  331, 355 Târikh-e Beyhaq (Ebn-Fondoq)  285 Târikh-e Beyhaqi (Abu’l-Fazl Beyhaqi)  16, 26, 33–34, 281–82, 294–95, 298, 301, 310–11, 318, 327 Târikh-e Bokhârâ (Narshakhi)  285 Târikh-e delgoshâ (Bhimsen Saksena) 321 Târikh-e gozide (Hamd-Allâh Mostowfı)  355–56, 358 Târikh-e jahân-goshây (Joveyni)  25, 300, 302, 308–10, 319, 326

559

PERSIAN PROSE Târikh-e jahân-goshây-e Nâderi (Mahdi Khân)  323 Târikh-e mobârak-e Ghâzân Khân (Rashid-al-Din Fazl-Allâh) 310–11 Târikh-e mo’ jam 484 Târikh-e Qom (Qomi)  285 Târikh-e Sistân  285, 293, 295, 327 Târikh-e Vassâf (Vassâf)  130, 311, 319, 323, 327–29, 484, 490 Târikh-e/Tadhkere-ye ahvâl (Lâhiji) 371–72 Tariq al-bokâ’ (Shahrâbi)  449–50 Tariq-e qesmat-e âb-e qolb (Abu-Nasr Haravi)  259 Tariqe-ye hokumat-e Zamân Khân Borujerdi va sargozasht-e ân ayâm (Âqâ Tabrizi) 509 Tarjomân al-balâghe (Râduyâni)  13–14 Tarjome-ye tafsir-e Tabari 327 Tarjome-ye târikh-e Tabari (Bal’ami)  xxv, xxx, 16, 288–89, 293 Tarsus  401, 443 Tarsusi, Abu-Tâher Abu-Moselm-nâme  349, 386, 396, 420–23 Dârâb-nâme  391, 393, 395– 402, 408, 412, 420 Qahramân-nâme  396, 421, 424–25 Qesse-ye Qerân-e Habashi  386, 421, 423–24 Tashrih-e Mansuri (Mansur b. Mohammad b. Ahmad Shirâzi) 256 Tasuji Tabrizi, Abd-al-Latif  472 Tatemmat Sevân al-hekme (Ebn-Fondoq)  229, 264

al-Tavassol elâ’l-tarassol (Bahâ’al-Din Baghdâdi)  24–32, 69–70 Tavğaç Kara Buğra Khan (Hasan b. Solaymân)  115 Tazkere-ye meykhâne (Abd-alNabi Qazvini)  466 Tehran  207, 449, 472, 481–82, 515 Tehrâni, Âqâ Ali Modarres see Modarres Tehrâni, Âqa Ali Tekesh  241, 261 Telesm-e Âsef va hamâm-e bolur (Naqib-al-Mamâlek Shirâzi) 437 Teucros  236, 238 Sovar-e darajât-e Tangeloshâ  237 Tha’âlebi, Abu-Mansur Abd-alMalek b. Mohammad  115 al-Ijâz va’l-e’ jâz 62–63 al-Montahhal 11 Khâss al-khâss 11 Nathr al-nazm va hall al-eqd 11 Thackston, Wheeler  5 Thaqafı, Abi-Obeyd  426 Thorayyâ (weekly journal)  515 Tibet 247 Timur  65, 74, 256, 317, 325 Timur-nâme (Hâtefı)  317 Toghrel I  107, 296–97 Toghrel III  297–98 Toghrol Shâh, King of Kashmir  475 Tohfat al-mohebbin (Serâj-Shirâzi)  275 Tohfat al-mo’menin (Hakim Mo’men Hoseyni)  257 Tohfe dar akhlâq va siyâsat 130 Tohfe-ye Jalâliyye (Khwâri)  47–48, 50–65, 69 Tohfe-ye Sâmi (Sâm Mirzâ)  367–68 Tonekâboni, Mirzâ Tâher  199

560

Index Transoxania  33, 48, 101, 106, 277, 307, 312, 316–17, 320 Trausch, Tilmann  322 Tropics of Discourse: Essays in Cultural Criticism (Hayden White) 281–82 Tufân ak-bokâ’ (Jowhari)  448–49 Turân  406, 423 Turkestan 394 Tus  21, 120, 316 Tusi, Âdhari, Gharâyeb al-donyâ  242 Tusi, Ahmad b. Mohammad b. Zeyd, al-Settin al-jâme’ le-latâ’ef al-basâtin (Tafsir-e qesse-ye Yusof ) 460 Tusi, Nasir-al-Din  57, 65, 109–10, 227, 236, 240–41, 249, 261–64 Akhlâq-e Mohtashami 110 Akhlâq-e Nâseri  81, 83, 108–9, 130, 132–35, 137 al-Tadhkere fı elm al-hay’e  230, 265 Bist bâb dar ma’refat-e taqvîm  231 Bist bâb dar ostorlâb 231 Hall-e moshkelât-e Mo’iniyye  230–31, 261 Resâle-ye Mo’iniyye dar hay’e  230–31, 261 Rowzat al-taslim 52 Tansukh-nâme-ye Ilkhâni 242, 250 Zij-e Ilkhâni  230–31, 246, 261 Zobde-ye hay’e 230 Tusi-Salmâni, Mohammad b. Mahmud b. Ahmad, Ajâyeb al-makhluqât va gharâyeb al-mowjudât 224 Tuti-nâme (Ziya’-al-Din Nakhshabi)  444, 446

Tuyserkâni, Esmâ’il Khan  492 Ulugh Beg  232, 261–62, 264 Utas, Bo  xvii–xviii, xxi–xxxiii, 280 Uzbek b. Nosrat-al-Din Pahlavân Mohammad  114, 123 Uzun Hasan  134 Vâ’ez, Mohammad b. Hasan b. Fazl b. Hoseyn see Ostâji, Jamâl Vâ’ez-e Heravi, Atâ b. Hosâm, Mokhtâr-nâme  349, 426–27, 429 Vahb b. Monabbeh  395 Vahid Dastgerdi, Hasan  516 Vahidzâde, Mahmud  516 Vajh-e din (Nâser-e Khosrow)  169 Vajizat al-tahrir (Esfahâni)  195 Vakiliyân, Ahmad  477 Vâleh Dâghestâni, Riyâz alsho’arâ 365–66 Valid b. Khâled of Egypt  417 Van Gelder, G. J. H.  31 Varaq-pâre-hâ-ye zendân (Alavi)  507 Varâvini, Sa’d-al-Din  24 Marzbân-nâme  59, 114–15, 328 Varz-nâme 258 Vâsefı, Zeyn-al-Din, Badâye’ al-vaqâye’  320, 326, 328, 371 Vassâf al-Hazrat, Abd-Allâh b. Fazl-Allâh 308 Târikh-e Vassâf  130, 311, 319, 323, 327–29, 484, 490 Vatvât, Rashid-al-Din  17, 27, 45, 107 Arâ’es al-khavâter va nafâ’es al-navâder 32–34 Hadâ’eq al-sehr fı daqâ’eq al-she’r  13–14, 31 Matlub koll tâleb men kalâm Ali b. Abi-Tâleb 107

561

PERSIAN PROSE Vesel, Ziva  xviii–xix, xxviii, 217–73 Vis o Râmin (Gorgâni)  390 Voltaire  484, 493 Waldman, Marilyn Robinson  281–83, 291, 294 White, Hayden, Tropics of Discourse: Essays in Cultural Criticism 281–82 Yahyâ b. Sâ’ed b. Ahmad, Nezâmal-Din, Hadâyeq al-siyar  127–28 Yak kaleme (Tabrizi)  202–4, 496 Yanbu’ al-hayât (Kâshâni)  163 Ya’qub b. Leyth  109 Yâqut, Ketâb al-mo’ jam 250 Yatim-nâme see Qesse-ye Hoseyn-e Kord-e Shabestari Yazd 330 Yazdân-shenâkht (Sohravardi)  159 Yazdegerd III  306 Yazdi, Gowhar  492 Yazdi, Sharaf-al-Din  79 Zafar-nâme 317 Yazid b. Mo’aviye  447 Yeki bud yeki nabud (Jamâlzâde)  499, 504–5 Yemen  286, 288, 385, 394, 416, 441 Yunos b. Farve  63 Yusof 109 Yusof (Joseph)  457, 460 Yusof Khâss Hâjeb, Kutadgu bilig 115 Zâd al-ârefın (Ansâri)  174

Zâd-al-mosâferin (Nâser-e Khosrow) 168–69 Zafar-nâme (Mostowfı)  311, 313–15, 317–18 Zafar-nâme (Shâmi)  317 Zafar-nâme (Yazdi)  317 Zahhâk  392, 397, 432 Zahir-al-Din, Saljuq-nâme 282 Zahiri-Samarqandi, Mohammad b. Ali Aghrâz al-siyâse fı a’râz al-riyâse  109, 112–13 Sendbâhd-nâme  112–14, 444 Zâkâni, Obeyd  324, 466–67 Resâle-ye delgoshâ 467 Zâl  109, 382, 416 Zanklisâ 398–99 Zanzibar 400 Zende be gur (Hedâyât)  506–7 Zevaco, Michel  503 Zeyn-al-Attâr, Ekhtiyârât-e Badi’i 257 Zibâ (Hejâzi)  505–6 Zij-e Ilkhâni (Tusi)  230–31, 246, 261 Zij-e Khâqâni (Kâshi)  232 Zij-e Ologh Beg (Kâshi)  232, 261 Zinat al-majâles (Majdi)  465, 488 Zobdat al-haqâ’eq (Eyn-al-Qozât Hamadâni) 177 Zobdat al-khiyâl 436 Zobdat al-romuz (Qesse-khwân)  407 Zobde-ye hay’e (Tusi)  230 Zohal, Gholâm-e Tashkent  226 Zowzani, Ahmad  33–34 Zowzani, Bu-Sahl-e  33–34

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