Sufi Lovers, Safavid Silks and Early Modern Identity 9463721738, 9789463721738

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V I S U A L A N D M AT E R I A L C U LT U R E , 13 0 0 -17 0 0

Nazanin Hedayat Munroe

Sufi Lovers, Safavid Silks and Early Modern Identity

Sufi Lovers, Safavid Silks and Early Modern Identity

Visual and Material Culture, 1300-1700 A forum for innovative research on the role of images and objects in the late medieval and early modern periods, Visual and Material Culture, 1300-1700 publishes monographs and essay collections that combine rigorous investigation with critical inquiry to present new narratives on a wide range of topics, from traditional arts to seemingly ordinary things. Recognizing the fluidity of images, objects, and ideas, this series fosters cross-cultural as well as multi-disciplinary exploration. We consider proposals from across the spectrum of analytic approaches and methodologies. Series Editor Allison Levy is Digital Scholarship Editor at Brown University. She has authored or edited five books on early modern Italian visual and material culture.

Sufi Lovers, Safavid Silks and Early Modern Identity

Nazanin Hedayat Munroe

Amsterdam University Press

This publication of this book is made possible in part by a grant from the CUNY Academy for the Humanities and Sciences, City University of New York.

Cover illustration: Textile fragment depicting Layla and Majnun, with the signature ‘Work of Ghiyath’ (detail). Attributed to late sixteenth/early seventeenth century, Safavid Iran. Silk, metal-wrapped silk; satin lampas. L: 20 1/8 in. (51.08 cm), W: 27 in. (68.55 cm). The Textile Museum, Washington, DC (3.312). Acquired by George Hewitt Myers in 1952. Cover design: Coördesign, Leiden Lay-out: Crius Group, Hulshout isbn 978 94 6372 173 8 978 90 4855 114 9 e-isbn doi 10.5117/9789463721738 nur 654 © Nazanin Hedayat Munroe / Amsterdam University Press B.V., Amsterdam 2023 All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this book may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise) without the written permission of both the copyright owner and the author of the book. Every effort has been made to obtain permission to use all copyrighted illustrations reproduced in this book. Nonetheless, whosoever believes to have rights to this material is advised to contact the publisher.

For my family, and the weavers of my ancestral past



Table of Contents

Acknowledgments 9 List of Illustrations

11

Note on Transliteration

15

Introduction: Material Culture and Mysticism in the Persianate World Material Culture and Mysticism The Persianate World

17 19 21

Part I 1. Silks, Signatures and Self-fashioning 27 Khamsa Narrative Silks in Scholarship 28 The Famous Naqshband: Unrivalled in the Art of Textile Design 32 Craftsmen and Consumers 41 Self-Fashioning in the Early Modern Persianate World 44 2. Dressed as King, Lover and Beloved: Khusrau and Shirin 53 Lovers from Nizami’s Khamsa 55 The Romantic Tragedy of Nizami’s ‘Khusrau and Shirin’ 57 Khusrau and Shirin in Paintings and Safavid Silks 62 The Gaze and the Body: States of Dress and Undress 76 3. Weaving Stories, Weaving Self: Layla and Majnun as Sufi Icons 83 The Mystical Love Story of Nizami’s ‘Layla and Majnun’ 85 Layla and Majnun in Poetry, Paintings and Silk Designs 87 The Khamsa of Amir Khusrau 97 Text and Textile in Sufi Poetry 104

Part II 4. The Divine Cloak of Majesty: Material Culture in Sufi Practice Garments as Gifts of Blessing, Piety and Power Chivalry, Spirituality and Materiality in Sufism Khirqa: The Cloak of Spiritual Poverty

115 116 118 128

Khamsa Silk as Khirqa? Figural Silks in Islamic Literary Sources 133 Enrobed: Khil‘at in the Early Modern Age 139 5. Mughal Dress and Spirituality: The Age of Sufi Kings Silk, Sufism and Self-Image at the Mughal Court Figural Silks from Mughal Manufactories Jahangir as King and Lover Ghiyath’s Legacy at the Mughal Court

145 146 158 169 172

6. Safavid Figural Silks in Diplomacy: Rare Textiles of Novel Design Silk as Commodity in Safavid Iran Figural Silk as Safavid Identity: Sherley and His Rivals Figural Silk as Diplomatic Gifts Safavid and Mughal Gift Giving in Historical Accounts Figural Silks at the Mughal Court

181 182 185 192 197 203

Conclusion 209 Reattribution of the Khamsa Silks Based on Paintings and Poetry 210 Textile Designs and Designers 211 Sufi Kings in Mughal India and Safavid Iran 212 Khusrau and Shirin: Love and Kingship 213 Layla and Majnun: Separation and Union 215 Deviations from the Khamsa Characters 217 Concluding Thoughts 218 Appendix A: List of Khamsa Silks

221

Appendix B: Summary of ‘Shirin and Khusrau’ by Amir Khusrau Dihlavi

223

Appendix C: Summary of ‘Majnun and Layla’ by Amir Khusrau Dihlavi

227

Glossary of Textile Terms

231

Glossary of Persian and Arabic Terms

235

List of Historic Figures

241

Index 247

Acknowledgments This book is dedicated to my family, whose love and support has been invaluable throughout my career. For my father, Dr G. Malek Hedayat, who kept Persian poetry alive even though we lived in a faraway land. For my mother, Eshrat M. Hedayat, whose love of fine clothes and textiles sparked my interest in luxury silks. I would not have pursued weaving and textile design without the encouragement of my brother, Dr Kamyar M. Hedayat, or been able to navigate my early career without the advice of my eldest sibling, Mazyar M. Hedayat, Esq. My greatest appreciation goes to my husband, David R. Munroe II (my real life ‘Majnun’), whose unwavering support for my work has been invaluable to its completion. I would also like to extend my sincere gratitude to Carol Bier, whose diligent scholarship in the field has set the foundation for more careful analysis of Safavid silk textiles; and to my mentor at Cranbrook Academy of Art, Gerhardt Knodel, who introduced me to her publications through his informative sessions on textile history. My advisor at University of Bern, Dr Birgitt Borkopp-Restle, and Dr Johanna D. Movassat provided invaluable insight and encouragement during the early phase of this research. Finally, I would like to thank my editor at AUP, Erika Gaffney, whose patience and support helped bring this publication to fruition. I hope that my findings will encourage respect and admiration for the textile designers and Sufi poets of Iran and the Persianate world, whose talents are still inspirational centuries later.



List of Illustrations

Figure 1.1 Textile fragment depicting Layla and Majnun. Attributed to sixteenth century, Safavid Iran. Silk with metal foil; double cloth. L: 7 7/8 in. (20 cm), W: 5 3/8 in. (13.65 cm). The Textile Museum (1969.36.1). Acquired from the Cooper Hewitt Museum. Figure 1.2 Textile fragment depicting Khusrau seeing Shirin bathing. Attributed to mid-sixteenth century, Safavid Iran. Silk; cut velvet. L: 7 1/2 in. (19.1 cm), W: 5 7/8 in. (14.9 cm). Cleveland Museum of Art (1944.499.b). Purchase from the J.H. Wade Fund. Figure 1.3 Textile fragment depicting Layla and Majnun, with the signature ‘Work of Ghiyath’ (detail), mirrored to show proper direction of the script. Attributed to sixteenth century, Safavid Iran. Silk, with gilded parchment wrapped around silk core; satin lampas. L: 25 3/16 in. (64 cm), W: 11 in. (28 cm). CooperHewitt Smithsonian Design Museum (1902-1-780). Gift of John Pierpont Morgan. Figure 2.1 Khusrau Catches Sight of Shirin Bathing (detail). Folio from a Khamsa of Nizami. Painting by Shaikh Zada. Calligraphers: Sultan Muhammad Nur and Mahmud Muzahhib. 15241525, Safavid Iran. Ink, opaque watercolour, and gold on paper. L: 12 5/8 in. (32.1 cm), W: 8 3/4 in. (22.2 cm). The Metropolitan Museum of Art (13.228.7.3). Gift of Alexander Smith Cochran, 1913. Figure 2.2 Textile fragment depicting Khusrau and Shirin. Attributed to mid-sixteenth century, Safavid Iran. Silk; cut velvet. L: 15 3/8 in. (39 cm), W: 6 1/2 in. (16.5 cm). The Metropolitan Museum of Art (1978.60). Purchase, Seley Foundation Inc., Schimmel Foundation Inc., Ruth Blumka and Charles D. Kelekian Gifts, and Rogers Fund, 1978. Figure 2.3 Textile fragment depicting Khusrau and Shirin. Attributed to mid-sixteenth century, Safavid Iran. Silk, with metal threads; cut and voided velvet. L: 15 15/16 in. (40.5 cm), W: 10 in. (25.3 cm). Topkapi Saray Museum (no. 13/1697). © The Presidency of the Republic of Turkey, the Directorate of National Palaces Administration. Figure 2.4 Textile fragment depicting Khusrau and Shirin. Attributed to ca. 1600, Safavid Iran. Silk, with metal threads; cut and voided velvet. L: 28 1/4 in. (71.76 cm), W: 21 3/4 in. (55.25 cm). The Keir

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Sufi Lovers, Safavid Silk s and Early Modern Identit y

Figure 2.5

Figure 2.6 Figure 2.7

Figure 3.1

Figure 3.2

Figure 3.3

Figure 3.4

Figure 3.5

Collection of Islamic Art on loan to the Dallas Museum of Art (K.1.2014.1337). Textile fragment depicting Khusrau and Shirin, with the signature ‘Work of Ghiyath.’ ca. 1600, Safavid Iran. Silk with metal threads; cut and voided velvet. L: 24 3/4 in. (62.87 cm), W: 18 3/8 in. (46.67 cm). The Keir Collection of Islamic Art on loan to the Dallas Museum of Art (K.1.2014.44). Digital drawing of Ghiyath’s signature on fig. 2.5, mirrored to show proper direction of the script. © 2022 Nazanin Hedayat Munroe. Textile fragment depicting Khusrau and Shirin. Attributed to seventeenth century, Safavid Iran. Silk; double cloth. L: 8 1/4 in. (20.96 cm), W: 10 3/4 in. (27.31 cm). Yale University Art Gallery (1951.51.82). Hobart and Edward Small Moore Memorial Collection. Gift of Mrs William H. Moore. Textile fragment depicting Layla and Majnun, with the signature ‘Work of Ghiyath.’ Attributed to sixteenth century, Safavid Iran. Silk, with gilded parchment wrapped around silk core; satin lampas. Silk; cut velvet. L: 25 3/16 in. (64 cm), W: 11 in. (28 cm). Cooper-Hewitt Smithsonian Design Museum (1902-1-780). Gift of John Pierpont Morgan. Textile fragment depicting Layla and Majnun, with the signature ‘Work of Ghiyath.’ Attributed to late sixteenth/ early seventeenth century, Safavid Iran (Yazd or Isfahan). Silk, metal-wrapped silk; satin lampas. L: 20 1/8 in. (51.08 cm), W: 27 in. (68.55 cm). The Textile Museum, Washington, DC (3.312). Acquired by George Hewitt Myers in 1952. Textile fragment depicting Layla and Majnun. Attributed to ca. 1550-1600, Safavid Iran. Silk; cut velvet. L: 17 5/8 in. (44.77 cm), W: 18 1/2 in. (46.99 cm). The Kier Collection of Islamic Art on loan to the Dallas Museum of Art (K.1.2014.1335). Textile fragment depicting Shirin and Farhad (detail). Attributed to sixteenth/seventeenth century, Safavid Iran. Silk, metal-wrapped thread; double cloth. L: 25 3/4 in. (65.4 cm), W: 14 3/8 in. (36.5 cm). The Metropolitan Museum of Art (46.156.7). Fletcher Fund, 1946. Textile fragment depicting Khusrau and Shirin, Layla and Majnun, Yusuf and Zulaikha (detail). Attributed to early seventeenth century, Safavid Iran. Silk; double cloth. L: 12 3/4 in. (32.5 cm), W: 6 7/8 in. (17.5 cm). British Museum (1985,0506.1).

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13

List of Illustr ations 

Figure 3.6

Figure 3.7

Figure 4.1

Figure 4.2

Figure 4.3

Figure 5.1

Funded by Edmund de Unger. © The Trustees of the British Museum. Layla Visits Majnun in the Desert. Folio from a Khamsa (Quintet) of Amir Khusrau Dihlavi. Attributed to Bihzad, 1485 (dated 890 AH); Timurid, Herat (Afghanistan). Approx. L: 7 7/8 in. (20 cm), W: 6 in. (15 cm). Chester Beatty Library, Dublin, MS 163, f. 120v. (CBL Per 163.120). © The Trustees of the Chester Beatty Library, Dublin. Layla and Majnun in the Wilderness with Animals. Folio from a Khamsa (Quintet) of Amir Khusrau Dihlavi. Attributed to Sanwalah, ca. 1590-1600, Mughal India. Opaque watercolour, ink and gold on paper. L: 7 5/16 in. (18.6 cm), W: 6 3/8 in. (16.2 cm). Cleveland Museum of Art (2013.301). Gift in honour of Madeline Neves Clapp; gift of Mrs Henry White Cannon by exchange; bequest of Louise T. Cooper; Leonard C. Hanna Jr Fund; from the Catherine and Ralph Benkaim Collection. Khusrau Seated on His Throne (detail). Folio from a Khamsa of Nizami. Painting by Shaikh Zada. Calligraphers: Sultan Muhammad Nur; Mahmud Muzahhib. 1524-1525, Safavid Iran. Ink, opaque watercolour, and gold on paper. L: 12 5/8 in. (32.1 cm), W: 8 3/4 in. (22.2 cm). The Metropolitan Museum of Art (13.228.7.4). Gift of Alexander Smith Cochran, 1913. A Dervish. Attributed to late sixteenth/early seventeenth century, Safavid Iran. Ink, opaque watercolour, and gold on paper. H: 8 3/8 in. (21.3 cm), W: 5 3/8 in. (13.6 cm). Metropolitan Museum of Art (13.228.35). Gift of Alexander Smith Cochran, 1913. Dancing Dervishes. Folio from the Shah Jahan Album. Mir ‘Ali Haravi (Calligrapher). Ca. 1610, Mughal India. Ink, opaque watercolour, and gold on paper. L: 15 3/16 in. (38.6 cm), W: 10 3/16 in. (25.9 cm). Metropolitan Museum of Art (55.121.10.18). Purchase, Rogers Fund and the Kevorkian Foundation Gift, 1955. The Emperor Shah Jahan with His Son Dara Shikoh (with detail). Folio from the Shah Jahan Album. Painting by Nanha. Ca. 1620, attributed to Mughal India. Ink, opaque watercolour, and gold on paper. L: 15 5/16 in. (38.9 cm), W: 10 5/16 in. (26.2 cm). Metropolitan Museum of Art (55.121.10.36). Purchase, Rogers Fund and the Kevorkian Foundation Gift, 1955.

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Sufi Lovers, Safavid Silk s and Early Modern Identit y

Figure 5.2 Chasuble (with detail). Attributed to Iran (fabric); Russia (shoulder pieces), sixteenth century (fabric), seventeenth century (shoulder pieces). Silk and silver thread; cut and voided velvet. L: 136 cm. Entered the Hermitage in 1930; transferred from the State Historical Museum inv. no. ИР-2327. Photograph © The State Hermitage Museum. Photo by Aleksey Pakhomov. Figure 5.3 Drawings of motifs by the author: a) dragonfly, Majnun velvet (fig. 5.2); b) tulip and dragonfly, Mansur’s painting; c) tulip with ibex, Majnun velvet (fig. 5.2); d) rabbit, Farrukh Beg’s painting; e) rabbit, Safavid drawing (fig. 5.4); f) rabbit, Majnun velvet (fig. 5.2). © 2022 Nazanin Hedayat Munroe. Figure 5.4 Majnun in the Wilderness (detail). Second half of sixteenth century, attributed to Safavid Iran. Ink, opaque watercolour, and gold on paper. L: 3 7/8 in. (9.8 cm), W: 2 5/8 in. (6.7 cm). Metropolitan Museum of Art (45.174.6). Bequest of George D. Pratt, 1935. Figure 6.1 Portrait of Robert Sherley. Anonymous artist. Ca. 1626. Oil on canvas. L: 76 3/4 in. (195 cm), W: 41 3/8 in. (105 cm). After Canby, Shah ‘Abbas: The Remaking of Iran. Figure 6.2 Portrait of Teresia Sherley. Anonymous artist. Ca. 1626. Oil on Canvas. L: 84 1/4 in. (214 cm), W: 48 3/4 in. (124 cm). After Canby, Shah ‘Abbas: The Remaking of Iran. Figure 6.3 Portrait of Naqd ‘Ali Beg. Richard Greenbury. 1626. Oil on canvas. L: 83 7/8 in. (213 cm), W: 51 in. (129.5 cm). London, British Library (F 23).

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168 188 189 190



Note on Transliteration

This volume uses transliterations of words from Persian and Arabic, which appear throughout the volume in italicized form. Many words are shared between the two languages, and for these I have used ‘v’ for the Persian vav where the origin is Persian, as in javanmardi; where the origin word is Arabic, the transliteration corresponds with ‘w’ as in futuwwat (both words corresponding to ‘chivalric young-manliness’). In order to minimize confusion for the non-Persian or non-Arabic reader, I have omitted diacritical marks, except where ayn (‘) and hamza (’) are indicated, as in ‘Ali or Isma’il. For words used interchangeably between the two languages, I have used the Persianized transliteration, as in zikr rather than dhikr (‫) ِذكْر‬. Anglicized words and names are written in their recognized forms, such as shah, Safavid or Naqshbandi. Compound words are represented as one word, as in karkhana (‘workshop’), and by a single space when an adjective is applied, as in sha‘r-baf khana (‘brocade-weaving workshop’) or kitab khana (‘book workshop’). Letters in Persian and Arabic with no singular equivalent are transliterated as digraphs, such as kh (‫ )خ‬in khana; q is substituted for letters such as qaf (‫ )ق‬as in naqsheh (‫)نقشه‬. Published translations of titles retain transliterations in the original published form, as in Futuwat Namah-yi Sultani (Kashifi, trans. Crook) or Jahangirnama (Jahangir, trans. Thackston), or in quoted content without modification. Elsewhere, these are transliterated following specifications outlined here, as in futuwwat nama. Please see the glossary in this volume for Persian and Arabic words in the original language, and transliterated with diacritical marks using IJMES standards, with some modifications. These terms are translated and contextualized for the reader. A list of historic figures (each with a brief biographical sketch) follows the glossary of terms. Dates are represented according to the Gregorian calendar (CE) except where noted otherwise (AH or H) for publications or art work, where relevant.



Introduction: Material Culture and Mysticism in the Persianate World Abstract Introducing the relationship between weaving and poetry, this chapter presents the study as one bringing together seemingly disparate elements as the foundation of early modern cultural and behavioural norms. Nizami Ganjavi (d. 1209) is cited as the poet whose Khamsa (Quintet) codif ied two legendary romances: ‘Khusrau and Shirin,’ a love story about besotted royals from Iran and Armenia, respectively; and ‘Layla and Majnun,’ a tale of young Bedouin lovers separated by family strife. Both tales take place in the pre-Islamic era, yet are adapted to medieval Islamic audiences, with strong Sufi mystic references embedded in the text. The Persianate realm is introduced as a broad transnational expanse from Iran to South Asia, unified in the early modern period by the Persian language and Sufi literature. Keywords: Safavid, Mughal, Amir Khusrau, silk, ‘ishq, futuwwat nama

This book addresses the relationship between poetry and textiles by examining a unique group of narrative figural silks depicting lovers from the Khamsa (Quintet) of epic poems. Attributed to early modern Safavid Iran (1501-1722), these sumptuous silks were coveted luxury commodities while simultaneously embodying mystical concepts codified in Persian literature. Messages conveyed through figural silks will be analyzed in Safavid and Mughal courtly cultures, as well as in Sufi and Islamic traditions that guided early modern rulers, who fashioned themselves as ‘dervish kings’ through a shared visual and literary culture. By contemplating luxury dress as a form of self-expression, the portrayal of Khamsa textiles functions as an important link expressing worldly and spiritual identities. The legendary characters depicted on the silks were codified by twelfth-century Persian-language poet Nizami Ganjavi in his Khamsa, whose enthralling tales of these historical figures were imbued with Sufi mysticism. ‘Khusrau and Shirin’ dramatizes the love story of Iranian king Khusrau and his Armenian queen Shirin,

Munroe, N.H., Sufi Lovers, Safavid Silks and Early Modern Identity. Amsterdam: Amsterdam University Press, 2023 doi 10.5117/9789463721738_intro

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Sufi Lovers, Safavid Silk s and Early Modern Identit y

whose tumultuous royal relationship began with a fated meeting on the road between their two kingdoms. ‘Layla and Majnun’ recounts the separation and madness of the Bedouin poet-lover Qays (aka Majnun, ‘Madman’) and his beloved Layla, and his transformation from insanity to sublimity as he wandered through the wilderness. Hailed as one of the great classics of Persian literature, illustrated manuscripts of Nizami’s Khamsa were produced by workshops throughout greater Iran for the ruling classes in the centuries leading up to the Safavid period, including scenes illustrating each set of lovers meeting privately. By the mid-sixteenth century, these pivotal events in the respective narratives had become well known among the educated elite. Between 1550 and 1650, eleven different signed and unsigned textile designs were produced portraying the meetings of these lovers in pivotal scenes. Four silk designs depict Khusrau Parviz, a powerful Sasanian king (r. 591–628), who is awestruck as he catches the first glimpse of his beloved Shirin bathing nude in a stream. Three designs show the Bedouin lovers Layla and Majnun together in the deserts of Arabia, unchaperoned and surrounded by wild animals, who are tamed by their love. Additional designs include Khamsa characters, but in slightly different scenes that nevertheless allow viewers to easily identify them. Some designs include short verses of Persian poetry, but none identified as being directly from any Khamsa manuscript. These provocative scenes, which include partial nudity and indicate ‘ishq (‘romantic love/sexual desire’), were popular among the elite in the opulent courts of Safavid Iran and the Persianate world. Three silks in the group include a subtly incorporated signature – a detail rarely added by designers. The signature has been linked to sixteenth-century Safavid master artisan Ghiyath al-Din Ali Yazdi Naqshband (hereafter Ghiyath), a celebrated textile designer from Yazd, Iran, who is noted in several biographical compilations. Perhaps drawing inspiration from the signed ‘designer’ textiles, the production of the eight remaining Khamsa silks were made without signatures depicting similar imagery. These unsigned silk designs indicate that perhaps these were created by lesser-known textile designers which may have been producing, in contemporary vernacular, ‘designer knock-offs.’ Woven images of the poetry’s pivotal scenes seem to mirror the iconography of paintings in Khamsa illustrated manuscripts; however, careful examination indicates that none of the designs are exact replicas of their painted counterparts. This discrepancy brings forth questions of whether the silk motifs were designed by textile designers or master painters. Although primary sources leave some ambiguity as to whether specialists worked across media in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, this study contemplates the possibilities by examining each respective medium through primary sources and comparing the motifs. Further investigation of the Khamsa silks leads to several new discoveries not explored by earlier scholars. One important oversight is revealed by close readings

Introduc tion: Material Culture and Mysticism in the Persianate World 

of the poetry: later Persian-language poets authored their own versions of the Khamsa revising Nizami’s storyline, and different designs may reference one or more of these alternate poetic renditions, including that of Amir Khusrau Dihlavi. A recontextualization of the group allows for the subtle variations introduced in each poet’s narrative to alter the messages encoded within individual textile designs, which may correspond with these later texts. Based on the close correlation with Safavid manuscript painting and the signature of Ghiyath, provenance for the Khamsa silks as a group has been attributed by curators to mid-sixteenth- and early-seventeenth-century Iran. Yet a comparison of iconographic details indicates that some textiles in the group may have been produced outside the Safavid dominion, proposed here as Mughal India. By reconsidering provenance for these silks, the study examines the shared ideology of rulers in Iran and India during the early modern period, which may have prompted Mughal production of textiles with similar motifs. This hypothesis is further supported by primary sources indicating the migration of silk specialists throughout the Persianate realm, including Safavid weavers seeking patronage in Mughal India during the late sixteenth and early seventeenth centuries.1

Material Culture and Mysticism Luxury silk production cannot be contextualized without consideration of capital output and consumer demand. Figural silks were created by highly skilled master designers, such as Ghiyath, on the technologically advanced drawloom. Employing a compound technique known as lampas, these pictorial silks often utilized double the amount of richly coloured silk fibre through the addition of supplemental warp and weft threads to create detailed images. Khamsa silks were also produced as silk velvets, even more labour-intensive and costly than their lampas counterparts. Based on the materials, advanced skills and technology required to weave detailed pictorial images, figural silk production was an expensive endeavour. Considering these logistics, this study proposes that the Khamsa silks were implemented with the intention of creating yardage that could potentially create many garments rather than a ‘one-off,’ responding to consumer demand for luxury silks depicting Khamsa characters. Following this logic, the messages projected by the wearer of these silks seemed to resonate well with viewers in the Persian-speaking world: praising the transformative love of Layla and Majnun, while simultaneously projecting the passion and devotion of Khusrau and Shirin.

1

For a discussion of Iranian immigrant weavers in Mughal India, see Munroe, ‘Shared Provenance.’

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Sufi Lovers, Safavid Silk s and Early Modern Identit y

These messages held deep symbolic meaning for followers of Sufism, the mystical path of Islam. Beginning with individuals and small groups in the eighth and ninth centuries functioning on the fringes of mainstream Islam, Sufism was institutionalized and legitimized during the medieval period.2 Attracting a wide variety of adherents, Sufism grew in popularity through the proliferation of poetry in court circles and membership of the artisan class, who imbued their works with iconography representing the spiritual codes of Sufi practice. Characterizing human experience within a Neoplatonic framework, Sufis believed that the earthly realm was a mirror of the celestial realm; to reach the Divine Reality, one needed to live in the physical world without being attached to its material reality. Objects of everyday life and experiences in the physical world were symbols on the path of the Sufi, which required humility and annihilation of the ego in order to obtain enlightenment, which happened in stages. Dress represented two important elements of early modern identity: the external self as it functioned in society, and the internal self in its transformative state. Majnun’s love of Layla, as the subsummation of one person in another, symbolizes the potential of ‘ishq to transform the soul, reflecting the essence of the Divine.3 Khusrau’s path is similarly powerful, in that the king is represented as a flawed character who must redeem himself through devotion to his beloved, Shirin. The creation of silks depicting Khamsa lovers became a symbol for the aspiring mystic lover (‘ashiq), who wished to identify with the characters. The surviving Khamsa silk fragments, which are dispersed among high-end museums in Europe and North America, represent what I believe to be only a small portion of the actual silks that were produced in this subgenre. This brings the larger genre of figural silks into the discussion, in that there were additional designs based on Persian poetic themes that were well known among the educated elite. The Khamsa silks are often included in this larger grouping; however, they are unique in that they are narrative, depicting specific scenes and characters that evoked a set of events and qualities embodied by the wearer and recognized by the viewer. Although the silks themselves were luxury items, their message would have reverberated among less educated and wealthy viewers, familiar with Khamsa tales told by storytellers through the oral coffeehouse tradition. 4 2 The institutionalization and popular appeal of Sufi orders is generally credited to Shehab al-Din Abu Hafs Omar b. Muhammad Suhrawardi (1145-1234), who formalized the tariqa Suhrawardiyya (‘Suhrawardi way’) in Baghdad in the early thirteenth century, a topic covered in more detail in Chapter 4. 3 For a discussion of ‘ishq in Nizami’s poetry, and specifically the symbol of Majnun, see Cross, ‘The Many Colors of Love,’ 70-73. 4 Matthee cites the accounts of several seventeenth-century European travellers to Safavid Iran, who record the coffeehouse (qahweh khana) as a central hub where poetry was performed and recited; as well as the Persian Tazkira of Nasrabadi. See Matthee, ‘Coffee in Safavid Iran,’ 24-25.

Introduc tion: Material Culture and Mysticism in the Persianate World 

The role of silk in trade and diplomacy is also pivotal in the contextualization of the Khamsa group. Shah ‘Abbas I (r. 1587-1629) centralized the lucrative sericulture industry in Iran, sending bales of raw silk fibre and woven lengths of velvet and lampas fabrics to Eurasian heads of state, gifted and worn by his ambassadors to encourage trade. Safavid figural silks featured prominently as robes of honour in court ceremonies, presented to visiting embassies and sent to rulers through diplomatic missions to Europe and the Islamic World. Many well-preserved Safavid fragments now in possession at Western museums are from church treasuries and palace storehouses, received as diplomatic gifts and offerings, which were also distributed throughout courts in the Islamic World with whom the Safavids wished to ally themselves.5 Although the imagery may have been unfamiliar to the recipients of these gifts in the West, the delicately rendered designs, brilliant colours and brocading with metal threads made these precious silks the most expensive on the international market.6 For the Persian-speaking world, which included Ottoman Turkey and Mughal India, rulers receiving gifts of figural silks would have identified with the iconography and poetry that was memorized and recited among peers to represent erudition among the elite. Based on the iconological properties of the Khamsa silks, the message sent seems to be a paradox of worldly success and renunciation: the humility of the character Majnun is contrasted with the sumptuous materials worn by kings, and Khusrau’s romantic escapades embody the wearer’s mystic quest for union with the Divine beloved. By analyzing luxury dress in conjunction with Sufi poetry, religious practice and political agendas, these silks will be contemplated as an expression of the worldly and spiritual life of the wearer.

The Persianate World References to the ‘Persianate world’ will be used frequently throughout this book. This term is generally used by scholars to denote a vast geographic area in Asia in which the Persian language and the Persian cultural model were dominant. The modern-day borders separating Iran and Central Asia are not reflective of the dynastic boundaries of the medieval and early modern eras. Historically, as well as today, it was common to see a cultural blending of Iranian and Turco-Mongol traditions within these regions, transported with immigrants to South Asia where Persian language was lingua franca in court culture, government documents, commemorative and historical manuscripts, religious instruction and edifying 5 For an overview of gift giving in diplomacy, see Komaroff and Blair, Gifts of the Sultan. 6 Mackie, Symbols of Power, 340-342.

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literature. Within elite circles in all these areas, appreciation of Persian-language literary works and their idealized characters fostered shared cultural values. Several recent publications have brought the important issue of a universal cultural idiom to the forefront of scholarship. Two volumes edited by Nile Green bring together scholars of Iran, Central Asia, Afghanistan and South Asia, contemplating the cultural hegemony of these areas. The Persianate World: The Frontiers of a Eurasian Lingua Franca (2019) includes several chapters addressing the importance of the Persian language as the unifying factor across the realm. Afghanistan’s Islam: From Conversion to Taliban (2017) includes studies on Sufism as a major diversifying factor in Islamic practice in the regions where Sufi orders were linked to political powers, including Central and South Asia. Richard M. Eaton traces the rise of Persianate culture in India in the Persianate Age, 1000-1765 (2019), analyzing the development of the cultural idiom in South Asia incorporating Hindu, Turkic and Iranian practices. Further defining the concept of Persianate courtly culture in modern-day India, The Courts of the Deccan Sultanates: Living Well in the Persian Cosmopolis by Emma J. Flatt (2019), analyzes Iranian influences on the culture of the ruling class in the Deccan. Focusing on the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries, Flatt defines the ‘Cosmopolis’ as the space in which court culture was based on a shared language practice, which included knowledge of Persian-language literary texts. Addressing the propagation of Persianate visual art forms in the subcontinent, Iran and the Deccan: Persianate Art, Culture and Talent in Circulation, edited by Keelan Overton (2020), discusses Iranian culture, literature and visual arts as a powerful prototype for Indo-Persian culture in the Deccan from 1400 to 1700. In Persianate Selves: Memories of Place and Origin before Nationalism (2020), Mana Kia contemplates the premodern concepts of what it meant to be Persian or Persianate, before nationalistic identities subsumed a more layered sense of self. Acknowledging that modern-day Iran was not always the epicentre from which cultural norms were established, Kia proposes that Persian identity was one based on education, occupation and community wherever these groups were located. However, these publications do not include chapters looking at garments, textiles and weavers, leaving the important aspect of a shared Persianate identity represented through dress markedly absent. Given the universal familiarity with Persian literary works and the creation of Persian-language poetry outside of modern-day Iran, a reassessment of the provenance of the Khamsa textiles is in order. To suppose that all these ‘Safavid’ textiles are made in early modern Iran under Safavid rule limits their interpretation. Migratory groups living in West, Central and South Asia transported their skills and expertise in silk weaving throughout a broad region, in which a collective Persianate identity was based on the shared rules of etiquette and chivalry derived from literature rather than geographic origins. As such, the collective cultural

Introduc tion: Material Culture and Mysticism in the Persianate World 

understanding of groups within these regions supports the conclusion that the layered meaning of the Khamsa silks would have been appreciated by several factions coexisting in the same geopolitical sphere, and that overlapping interests and identities within the courts – Safavid, Mughal, Deccan and throughout Central Asia – significantly influenced the societies over which they ruled. Part I of this book presents documentary evidence of the silks, highlighting the discoveries that this analysis brings to current scholarship. The reader is introduced to Khamsa poetry as an edifying device for elite listeners/readers during the medieval and late medieval periods. Beginning with the story of Khusrau and Shirin, the concepts of love, kingship and destiny in Iran are examined through Nizami’s narrative and corresponding depictions of these characters in manuscript paintings and silk textiles during the Safavid period. The Layla and Majnun silks are analyzed as a shift away from Nizami’s text, bringing the reader to consider alternative narratives in Persianate culture, particularly the Khamsa of Amir Khusrau. The growth of Sufism is analyzed as the fertile ground in which the seeds of poetic metaphor are sown and cultivated, connecting text with textiles. Part II examines the Khamsa silks in context of the role of garments as material objects imbued with spiritual and temporal authority in Islamic and Persianate culture. The conferral of garments symbolized approval and allegiance between giver and receiver. The role of the cloak in Sufi practice is traced from its origins in the Prophetic tradition to its function as a symbol of commitment to mystic life, undergoing transformation in the medieval period to an object symbolizing group affiliation. Restrictions on silk and figural imagery in Sufi and Islamic sources are deliberated in conjunction with material objects in spiritual practice, and the paradox of ‘dervish silk’ represented by the Khamsa textiles. Figural silks are then analyzed in the courtly culture of the Mughal and Safavid dynasties. Self-fashioning as Khamsa characters for rulers and courtiers in both cultures will be examined here in primary sources. Figural silks will be discussed as luxury commodities, with an overview of the material processes and socio-economic structure that supported luxury silk production in Safavid Iran and Mughal India. Situating figural silks within Eurasian political and economic exchange, diplomacy and commerce between East and West are documented with specific examples. The cultural exchange of material goods, and the dress of ambassadors sent as representatives of their respective courts, reflect the significant role of figural silks as a representation of identity. The discussion includes the Englishmen Robert Sherley, who accepted diplomatic missions on behalf of Shah ‘Abbas, and Thomas Roe, who sought commercial ventures in the Mughal dominion, as well as Safavid and Mughal ambassadors sent back and forth between these realms. Finally, the conclusion proposes new concepts of provenance based on the arguments put forth

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throughout the book, arguing for a multiregional view of silk textile production in the early modern Persianate world. Figural silks were key to self-fashioning through dress as a signifier of wealth, social class and ideology. However, the Khamsa silks are unique in that they are recounting specific scenes from the stories of these lover-protagonists, rather than representing an idealized non-narrative image. This study will significantly expand current scholarship by contemplating the Khamsa silks as garments produced across time and place, conveying mystic messages whose meaning was shared by the designers, wearers and viewers of these exquisite textiles.

Works Cited Cross, Cameron. ‘The Many Colors of Love in Niẓāmī’s Haft Paykar: Beyond the Spectrum.’ Interfaces 2 (2016): 52-96. https://riviste.unimi.it/interfaces/article/view/7663 Eaton, Richard M. India in the Persianate Age, 1000-1765. Berkeley: University of California Press, 2019. Flatt, Emma J. The Courts of the Deccan Sultanates: Living Well in the Persian Cosmopolis. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2020. Green, Nile, ed. Afghanistan’s Islam: From Conversion to the Taliban. Berkeley: University of California Press, 2017. Green, Nile, ed. The Persianate World: The Frontiers of a Eurasian Lingua Franca. Oakland: University of California Press, 2019. Kia, Mana. Persianate Selves: Memories of Place and Origin before Nationalism. Stanford, CA: Stanford University Press, 2020. Komaroff, Linda, and Sheila Blair, eds. Gifts of the Sultan: The Arts of Giving at the Islamic Courts. Los Angeles, CA: Los Angeles County Museum of Art, 2011. Mackie, Louise. Symbols of Power: Luxury Textiles from Islamic Lands, 7th-21st Century. Cleveland: Cleveland Museum of Art; New Haven: Yale University Press, 2015. Matthee, Rudi. ‘Coffee in Safavid Iran: Commerce and Consumption.’ Journal of the Economic and Social History of the Orient 37, no. 1 (1994): 1-32. Munroe, Nazanin Hedayat. ‘Shared Provenance: Investigating Safavid-Mughal Cultural Exchange through Luxury Silks in the Sixteenth and Seventeenth Centuries.’ In Hidden Stories/Human Lives: Proceedings of the Textile Society of America 17th Biennial Symposium, October 15-17, 2020. https://digitalcommons.unl.edu/tsaconf/1152/ Overton, Keelan, ed. Iran and the Deccan: Persianate Art, Culture and Talent in Circulation, 1400-1700. Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 2020.

Part I

1.

Silks, Signatures and Self-fashioning Abstract Presenting a literature review of silks depicting love scenes from Khamsa poetry, this chapter introduces garments displaying the characters as a mode of selffashioning. The scenes originated from twelfth-century Persian-language poetry, reproduced as textiles in the Safavid period between 1550 and 1650. Three silk designs include the signature of Ghiyath al-Din, a naqshband (‘textile designer’) from Yazd, Iran, presented as both a royally sponsored artist and a Sufi, representing the paradox of luxury and mystic practice. The concept and etymology of naqshband and the organization of textile workshops in the Safavid period is discussed in conjunction with consumption and patronage. Resembling Khamsa manuscript paintings produced in the same period, the silks featured in this study point to a collaboration between painters and silk designers, whose workshops were separate. Keywords: Nizami Ganjavi, Safavid silk weaving, Layla and Majnun, Khusrau and Shirin

Though earlier scholars have certainly referenced silks depicting Khamsa characters to exemplify the high level of accomplishment in Safavid weaving, prior to my doctoral dissertation the group had never been analyzed as a whole.1 Examining primary source materials, passages from Nizami’s original text and iconography in both textiles and paintings, this book further develops the theory that fashioning these textiles into garments represents a connection between the wearer and the characters displayed on one’s outer clothing: an external representation of the internal self. The analysis further elaborates the important link of Sufi practice as integral to experiencing the world through the eyes of the lover, representing the mystic aspirant. It should be noted at the onset that many of the surviving Khamsa silks are fragments, most of which are known through publications by museums outside the Persianate world. As earlier scholars note, the fragments mysteriously appeared at auctions, 1 For an abbreviated study of Khamsa silks, see Munroe, ‘Lovers, Legends, and Looms.’ For earlier studies, see Munroe, ‘Interwoven Lovers,’ and Shenasa [now Munroe], ‘Donning the Cloak.’

Munroe, N.H., Sufi Lovers, Safavid Silks and Early Modern Identity. Amsterdam: Amsterdam University Press, 2023 doi 10.5117/9789463721738_ch01

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were sold by dealers, or acquired by private collectors, with little documentation of provenance other than the location of acquisition. The most lucrative and convenient way to resell what may have been an intact garment or large piece was to cut it into small pieces and sell them as fragments. This requires the textile historian to utilize original approaches for writing about extant materials relative to other textual and visual evidence, such as whether the silks were fashioned into garments or utilized in other ways. However, there is enough evidence through early modern literary accounts, paintings and portraiture to propose that the Khamsa silks were intended for use as luxury dress. Bearing this in mind, this book ponders the larger issues as to what motivated consumers to purchase and display luxury textiles depicting half-nude lovers from the Khamsa, particularly if they are fashioned into garments.2

Khamsa Narrative Silks in Scholarship Figural textiles as a specific genre of Safavid textile design were first introduced to curators, collectors and connoisseurs in 1899 by F.R. Martin through a small publication in German, Figurale Persische Stoffe aus dem Zeitraum 1550-1650 (Persian figural stuffs from the period 1550-1650). Perhaps based on this early publication, the whole group of Khamsa silks is attributed to mid-sixteenth- and seventeenthcentury Safavid production.3 Martin grouped these textiles based on the inclusion of figural imagery rather than by theme or weaving technique, and the selection includes a broad range of iconographic and technical variation. Several silks depict human figures in scenes of falconry or hunting, in garden repose, taking prisoners or in narrative scenes, potentially representing separate subgenres within woven figural imagery. 4 Some figural textiles include signatures and poetic epigraphy, but the Khamsa silks are some of the few examples positively identified by early scholars as having narrative themes, and are often – but not always – attributed to Nizami (fig. 1.1). 2 To date, no extant examples of fully assembled garments fashioned from Khamsa silks have been published; however, multiple fragments in this group indicate that they were once part of constructed garments, and intact garments made from similar figural silks survive – a point that will be addressed throughout the book. 3 More recent scholarship proposes that silks with figural narrative scenes were documented as early as 1540, slightly predating Martin’s analysis. A figural silk included in the collection of the Metropolitan Museum of Art depicts a scene of Hushang slaying a dragon from Ferdowsi’s Shahnama. See Ekhtiar et al., Masterpieces, 244-245, cat. no. 168; also see the detailed study of this design by Lassikova, ‘Hushang the Dragon-Slayer.’ 4 Martin, Figurale Persische Stoffe aus dem Zeitraum 1550-1650. For examples of each respective type of figural iconography, see fig. 11, fig. 13 and pl. VIII; Khamsa silks depicting Layla and Majnun are included as fig. 17 and pl. VII.

Silk s, Signatures and Self-fashioning 

Figure 1.1: Textile fragment depicting Layla and Majnun. Attributed to sixteenth century, Safavid Iran. Silk with metal foil; double cloth. L: 7 7/8 in. (20 cm), W: 5 3/8 in. (13.65 cm). The Textile Museum (1969.36.1). Acquired from the Cooper Hewitt Museum.

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Figure 1.2: Textile fragment depicting Khusrau seeing Shirin bathing. Attributed to mid-sixteenth century, Safavid Iran. Silk; cut velvet. L: 7 1/2 in. (19.1 cm), W: 5 7/8 in. (14.9 cm). Cleveland Museum of Art (1944.499.b). Purchase from the J.H. Wade Fund.

In 1920, A.F. Kendrick and T.W. Arnold of the Victoria and Albert Museum published an article on Safavid figural silks, including a double cloth of Layla and Majnun from their collection (same design as fig. 1.1) and a Khusrau and Shirin velvet fragment (same design as fig. 1.2), identifying them as Khamsa characters without naming a specific poet.5 Referencing Majnun, Kendrick and Arnold note that ‘Textile and MS [manuscript] representations usually depict the scene where he is visited in the desert by his beloved,’ but do not specify the Khamsa manuscript to which they refer, leaving the question of poetic authorship open.6 5 Kendrick and Arnold, ‘Persian Stuffs with Figure-Subjects–I,’ 237. 6 Ibid., 238.

Silk s, Signatures and Self-fashioning 

In 1945, Gertrude Underhill of the Cleveland Museum of Art published a brief article focused on the same Khusrau and Shirin velvet (fig. 1.2), noting that four fragments of the same design ‘appeared in London about 1920,’ including the two that reside in the collection at Cleveland. Without citing the source, Underhill includes an English translation from Nizami’s Persian poem, making the connection between the scene and the author for her reader.7 Nancy Andrews Reath and Eleanor B. Sachs published a comprehensive technical study of textiles in 1937, Persian Textiles and Their Techniques from the Sixth to the Eighteenth Centuries, which includes technical analyses of four silks from this group. In the catalogue entries for the Khamsa silks, Reath and Sachs identify the characters, but refrain from attribution to a specific poet. Contemporaneously, Arthur Upham Pope and Phyllis Ackerman published the multivolume A Survey of Persian Art, which has one volume authored by Ackerman devoted to textiles, including some of the Khamsa silks. In 1978, curator and scholar Friedrich Spuhler published two velvets depicting each set of lovers, specifically citing Nizami as the poet (figs 2.4 and 3.3). In his catalogue entry for the Layla and Majnun fragments, Spuhler connects figural silks with painting by observing that textile designers seem to be following the canon of painting developed by Persian painter Bihzad (ca. 1450-1535) and his followers.8 Spuhler also cites Nizami’s Khamsa as inspiration for a fragment depicting Khusrau and Shirin, comparing the iconographic details to contemporary manuscript paintings of Nizami’s epic poem.9 The largest number of silks from the Khamsa group exhibited and published together were included in the 1987 exhibition catalogue from the Textile Museum, Woven from the Soul, Spun from the Heart, edited by curator Carol Bier. The exhibition catalogue contains essays and catalogue entries pertaining to the Khamsa silks, often incorporated into larger subjects. Curator and artist Milton Sonday analyzed two different velvets depicting Khusrau and Shirin (figs 2.2 and 2.4) in his essay, ‘Patterns and Weaves: Safavid Lampas and Velvet,’ providing technical analyses for these and two additional silks depicting Layla and Majnun (figs 1.1 and 3.2), and a double cloth with scenes of a Khamsa subplot, Shirin and Farhad (fig. 3.4).10 In addition to a thorough examination of materials and techniques by Sonday in his essay, Mary McWilliams explores the iconography of each fragment in their respective catalogue entries in Woven from the Soul. For the double cloth fragment of Shirin and Farhad, the catalogue entry includes a translated passage from Nizami’s 7 Underhill, ‘Fragments of a Khusraw and Shirin Velvet,’ 96. 8 Spuhler, Islamic Carpets and Textiles in the Keir Collection, 166. 9 Ibid., 170-171. 10 Sonday, ‘Patterns and Weaves,’ 65-67.

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poem.11 With regard to the Layla and Majnun double cloth, McWilliams aptly writes: ‘Although representations of this scene occur in Safavid manuscript painting and decorative arts, the main literary versions of this romance do not feature a meeting of lovers in the Wilderness.’12 This point leaves open the significant question of the iconographic origin of these designs and their respective poetic inspiration.

The Famous Naqshband: Unrivalled in the Art of Textile Design As McWilliams and earlier scholars agree, the textile designs incorporate iconography established in Safavid manuscript painting; however, design-sharing practices between the painting and textile workshops are unclear. From the medieval to early modern periods, each discipline was contained in a karkhana (‘workshop’) devoted to production of specific objects. Much of the information on textile workshops found in primary source material, both Iranian and European, takes the form of government records, historiographies or travelogues. European accounts that document silk textiles, silk garments and/or references to silk-weaving practices in the Safavid era include: ambassadors Michel Membré and Anthony Jenkinson; commercially minded Englishmen Anthony Sherley, George Manwaring and Thomas Herbert; a gentleman traveller from Italy, Pietro Della Valle; French jewellers Jean Chardin and Jean-Baptiste Tavernier; and the Holstein ambassadorial secretary Adam Olearius.13 Iranian sources fall into one of the categories of tazkira (‘biographical accounts’), historiographies such as the Tarikh-i Alamara-ye Abbasi (History of Shah ‘Abbas), and Safavid state manuals such as Tadhkirat al-Muluk.14 Tazkira from the Safavid era were compiled as a list of notable people of the literary and art worlds and often include anecdotes about the lives of poets and artists.15 Although additional primary sources in Persian providing detailed information on the inner workings of Safavid textile workshops have yet to be identif ied 11 Ibid., cat. no. 25; translation of Nizami’s poetry by Peter Chelkowski; Farrukhi poetry on textile translated by Jerome Clinton. 12 McWilliams, with acknowledgment to Marianna Shreve Simpson, in Bier, Woven from the Soul, Spun from the Heart, 184, cat. no. 26. 13 Membré, Mission to the Lord Sophy of Persia; Jenkinson, Journey of Anthony Jenkinson into Persia; Sherley, Sir Antony Sherley, His Relation of His Travels into Persia; Manwaring, The Three Brothers; Herbert, A Relation of Some Yeares Trauaile; Della Valle, Pietro’s Pilgrimage; Olearius, The Voyages & Travels of the Ambassadors; Chardin, Travels in Persia; Tavernier, Voyage en Perse. Several of these accounts will be referenced throughout the book. 14 Nasrabadi, Tazkira-i Nasrabadi, with other tazkira reproduced in Skelton, ‘Ghiyath al-Din Ali-yi Naqshband’; Monshi, History of Shah ‘Abbas, I; and Tadhkirat al-Muluk, which will also be reviewed. 15 Tazkira (pl. tazkirāt) is def ined by Skelton as ‘biographical notices of poets and men of learning’ (‘Ghiyath al-Din Ali-yi Naqshband,’ 249).

Silk s, Signatures and Self-fashioning 

and translated, there is enough evidence to surmise the general organization of silk-weaving workshops. Urban workshops belonged to a silk-weaving guild, managed by the bashi, an elected guild member who functioned as spokesperson for the guild. Although this leadership position also seems to have been subject to government approval and removal, the bashi was well respected among peers and an important link to local authority as the guarantor of guild taxes paid to the crown.16 Urban guilds for all artistic practices seemed to congregate at the bazaar (‘marketplace’) and were ultimately under the jurisdiction of a city administrator. Each textile workshop seems to include at least one master textile designer, master weavers and several apprentices, as well as assistants who helped operate the looms. In primary sources, workshops are categorized and identified by materials and techniques: cotton weavers worked separately from wool or silk weavers, and their salaries were lower.17 Within silk weaving there was further delineation between compound fabrics (sha‘r-baf ), and compound fabrics woven with precious metals (zar-baf ).18 Workshops producing textiles existed as both independent entities and statesponsored agencies, often identified by technique and iconographic stylization attributed to certain regions historically specialized in loom weaving. These provinces included Kashan, Yazd, Tabriz and, from the Safavid era onwards, Isfahan. The workshop itself, whether public or private, is rarely identified on the textiles themselves. Correspondingly, the question of whether the Khamsa silks were produced for the court in state-sponsored workshops, or by independent workshops for sale on the open market, potentially alters their context. A royal patron indicates an individual interest in the Khamsa lovers, rather than a more general trend in society creating consumer demand. Some information can be gleaned from the textiles themselves. The range of techniques and materials used in the group indicates different price points for these goods, suggesting that the more luxurious silks with gold-wrapped thread may have been produced for royalty, and others in independent workshops for middle-class or upper-middle-class consumers, or as less costly gifts intended for courtiers. By the time these luxury silks reached Western collections as fragments, the designers were virtually unidentifiable – with the exception of the few silks in the Khamsa group that contain signatures of Ghiyath as part of the woven design. Two of the Khusrau and Shirin designs (figs 2.5 and 2.6) and two Layla and Majnun designs (figs 3.1 and 3.2) include a small calligraphic panel translated 16 Keyvani, ‘Artisans and Guild Life in the Later Safavid Period,’ 56, 79 and 94. 17 Ibid., 214. 18 Ibid., 57 and 100. Keyvani lists the bashi for the ‘gold brocade’ weavers and ‘silk brocade’ weavers separately, indicating these workshops are distinct entities.

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Figure 1.3: Textile fragment depicting Layla and Majnun, with the signature ‘Work of Ghiyath’ (detail), mirrored to show proper direction of the script. Attributed to sixteenth century, Safavid Iran. Silk, with gilded parchment wrapped around silk core; satin lampas. L: 25 3/16 in. (64 cm), W: 11 in. (28 cm). Cooper-Hewitt Smithsonian Design Museum (1902-1-780). Gift of John Pierpont Morgan.

‘Work of Ghiyath’ (Persian: ‫)عمل غیاث‬, a subtle detail incorporated within the woven repeat pattern. The signature on one of the Layla and Majnun silks (fig. 1.3) had initially been noted in Martin’s 1899 publication Figurale Persische Stoffe aus dem Zeitraum 1550-1650,19 but it was not until two successive articles were published in the 1930s that the identity of this mysterious artist was connected to a workshop location and approximate time span. In these detailed articles, Phyllis Ackerman (wife and collaborator of Arthur Upham Pope)20 explored the background of one of the few 19 Reproduced in Martin, Figurale Persische Stoffe aus dem Zeitraum 1550-1650, fig. 17. 20 As early as the 1920s, Pope and Ackerman had close ties to the government of Iran, especially then Prime Minister Reza Khan, later to ascend the throne as Reza Shah Pahlavi (r. 1941-1979). During the decade leading up to his accession, Pope and Ackerman co-authored and edited the multivolume Survey of Persian Art (published 1938-1939), documenting all media of visual arts as well as religious and secular architecture throughout Iran. Ackerman’s focus remained on the applied arts, including textiles.

Silk s, Signatures and Self-fashioning 

named textile designers in Iranian history: Ghiyath al-Din ‘Ali Yazdi Naqshband (also ‘Ghiyath’ or ‘Ghiyas’; ca. 1530-1593/1595). Ackerman identified the signature as that of a sixteenth-century designer/weaving master from Yazd, Iran. Ackerman paints a picture of Ghiyath as a wealthy entrepreneur, naqshband (‘textile designer’; pl. naqshbandan), amateur poet, and favoured courtier of Shah ‘Abbas. In her initial publication in 1933, Ackerman wrote: ‘Ghiyath was first introduced to art historians by a Naskhi signature on a black Persian satin, with a representation in dull yellows of Leila [sic] riding forth on her camel to the meeting with Majnun, was noted a minor design that, on analysis, proved to be the name Ghiyath’ (fig. 3.1).21 Ackerman even connects Ghiyath to the Safavid court through a passage from the tazkira of Nasrabadi (completed in 1672), referencing the second signed Layla and Majnun silk (fig. 3.2), presuming this is the textile presented to Shah ‘Abbas.22 Concurrent with Ackerman’s articles, J.H. Schmidt published ‘Persische Stoffe mit Signaturen von Ghiyas’ (‘Persian silks with the signature of Ghiyas’), analyzing stylistic differences in Khamsa silks and other textiles signed by Ghiyath, citing Ackerman’s first publication. Schmidt’s analysis includes drawings of the repeat units, as well as sketches of motifs and signatures for comparison, reflecting variation in script and style.23 A decade following Ackerman’s publications, Pope authored Masterpieces of Persian Art, furthering connections between the naqshband and the Khamsa silks, stating that ‘the romance of Laila and Majnun [sic], one of the perennial tragic love-stories of Persia, seems to have especially absorbed this master – who was a poet in his own right.’24 In her subsequent article of 1934, Ackerman gleaned most of her information from one of the longer accounts of Ghiyath from Jami’-i Mufidi (The complete works of Mufidi), a Safavid tazkira completed a century after the designer’s active period. Completed in 1679, this tazkira was discovered in a private collection in Yazd and translated by Arthur Upham Pope and Farajollah Bazl in 1933, and subsequently referenced by Ackerman in her article ‘A Biography of Ghiyath the Weaver’ in 1934. The section on Ghiyath reads, in part: Khwaja Ghiyath al-Din ‘Ali was unrivalled in the art of textile design. He continually drew marvelous things and wondrous forms on the pages of time 21 See Ackerman ‘Ghiyath, Persian Master Weaver,’ and Ackerman, ‘A Biography of Ghiyath the Weaver.’ Ackerman also cites the publication by Martin, Figurale Persische Stoffe aus dem Zeitraum 1550-1650, as the earliest art historical publication bringing Ghiyath’s name to light in ‘Ghiyath, Persian Master Weaver,’ 252, n. 1. 22 Ibid., 255. 23 Schmidt, ‘Persische Stoffe mit Signaturen von Ghiyas.’ Schmidt’s observations reflect the general acceptance that Ghiyath was able to design textiles and calligraphy in several different styles, a point that will be discussed with regard to provenance in this study. 24 Pope, Masterpieces of Persian Art, 186.

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with a thoughtful brush and completed exquisite textile fabrics. Such was the renown of his high achievement in this art that the mighty kings and rulers of India, Turkestan and Turkey sent him precious gifts asking for textiles from the workshop of his genius.25

Ghiyath’s contemporaries also recorded his reputation as a superior artist. Sadiqi Beg, head of the royal book workshop during the reign of Shah ‘Abbas, visited the famous naqshband in Yazd and praised Ghiyath in the Majma’ al-Khavass (Congress of the nobles): He has many skills. Firstly in the art of designing and making silken fabrics he can be called the phoenix of the age and the unique one of his time. The kings and princes of Iran and Turkestan are after the silk cloths of his contriving.26

In addition to his skills pertaining to the loom, Ghiyath was also a noted poet. Several verses written by the master designer himself are preserved and quoted in Sadiqi Beg’s account, in which Ghiyath acknowledges his artistic gifts and status among his contemporaries as the most renowned artist/designer of his time: I, who in Yazd am the envy of my contemporaries Am chosen by God in artistic skills. There is no art (hunar) like eloquence, Yet I am an artist-craftsman as well as being a poet. […] During the daytime I am busy engaged in making decorative designs At night in the companionship of prayer and the Qur’an. […] Do you know where I have acquired all these virtues? From being one of the slaves of the King of Valor (‘Ali).27

Many of Ghiyath’s verses juxtapose his status as a renowned artist in his time with his growing interest in spirituality. His professional life was impressive: by the time of his appointment as the head of the karkhana-i khass (‘royal workshop’; also karkhana-i saltanati) of Shah ‘Abbas, Ghiyath held the official position of bashi 25 Extract from Mufidi, Jami’i Mufidi, cited in Skelton, ‘Ghiyath al-Din ‘Ali-yi Naqshband,’ Appendix B, 259. This section is not included in Ackerman, ‘A Biography of Ghiyath the Weaver.’ 26 Sadiqi Beg, Majma’ al-Khavaṣṣ, cited in Skelton, ‘Ghiyath al-Din ‘Ali-yi Naqshband,’ Appendix C, 260. 27 Ibid.

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of the weaver’s guild in Yazd.28 To shed some light on his relationship to the court and the karkhana-i khass, one can consider the following passage from the Jami’-i Mufidi about Ghiyath: With his increasing proximity to the King he achieved high rank and eminence in the royal assembly and was raised to the peak of honor and the summit of preferment. He wrote clever and amusing verses and presented his petitions to the King in the form of poems. Thus he made a request for his salary in this quatrain: Oh (Shah), source of light to my blood-weeping eye, Untie with a glance the knot in my affairs. Oh problem solver of the Kingdom of Iran Grant me, this year, last year’s salary.29

Ackerman cited Ghiyath’s request for his salary as an indication that he was an employee of the karkhana-i khass for some period of time during the reign of Shah ‘Abbas, informing her reader that this position was a contractual, salaried appointment. Despite the honour bestowed upon artists of the court, Ghiyath’s verses indicate that he found the capricious nature of ‘Abbas and the ostentation of the Safavid court to be in conflict with his mystic practice, which became a primary interest towards the end of his life.30 This further supports his interest in the works of Nizami, whose ‘Khusrau and Shirin’ expresses the poet’s views on how to utilize worldly power as a tool for justice and beneficence in order to elevate the soul. In all tazkira mentioning Ghiyath, he is referred to as a naqshband, which is a specific area of expertise involving tying the threads of a mechanism called the naqsheh (s., ‘textile repeat unit for design’; also naqsha; pl. naqshha).31 The Borhan-e Qate, a Persian dictionary compiled in the seventeenth century (completed in 1651) equates the verb naqsh bastan (‘image-making’) with afridan (‘to create’).32 This 28 In addition to several posthumous tazkira, this was documented by the Shah ‘Abbas I-era chronicler Amin Ahmad Razi’s Haft Iqlim (completed in 1593-1594). See Keyvani, ‘Artisans and Guild Life in the Later Safavid Period,’ 96. 29 Extract from Mufidi, Jami’i Mufidi, cited in Ackerman, ‘A Biography of Ghiyath the Weaver,’ 10; also cited in Skelton, ‘Ghiyath al-Din ‘Ali-yi Naqshband,’ Appendix B, 258. 30 For more information on the character and reign of Shah ‘Abbas I (r. 1587-1629), see Canby, Shah ‘Abbas; also see Blow, Shah ‘Abbas. 31 Thompson, ‘Safavid Carpets and Textiles,’ 275. 32 The Borhan-i Qate (also Burhan-e Qati) was an alphabetically arranged Persian dictionary completed in 1651 by Muhammad Husayn b. Kalaf Tabrizi, whose pen name was Borhan. Of Persian origin, Borhan dedicated the work to his patron, Abd-Allah Qotbash, the seventh sultan of the Shi’a dynasty of Golconda in the Deccan. For more information, see Dabīrsīāqī, “Borhān-e Qāṭe’.” Also referenced in Skelton, ‘Ghiyath al-Din ‘Ali-yi Naqshband,’ 263, n. 54.

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interesting etymology indicates that both design and creation of textiles could have fallen under the duties of the naqshband, who may have been a skilled weaver as well as textile designer. The primary occupation of naqshbandi, regarded in this study as the equivalent to ‘drawloom textile design,’ was defined in the late nineteenth century by Steingass in his comprehensive Persian-English dictionary as ‘the art of painting or embroidery,’ while a naqshband is defined as ‘a painter, embroiderer; one who adorns.’33 Naqshbandi has alternately been defined as a practice that ‘embraces the various arts that depend on the drawing or painting of designs.’34 Both of these definitions seem to dismiss the special set of skills required to engineer a durable silk fabric, interlacing threads to create images while also creating a fluid repeat pattern design layout – technical constraints not required for painting or embroidery. As far as the question of who created the imagery for figural textile designs, the level of interaction or collaboration taking place between the book-painting workshops and royal or private textile workshops is still unclear. We know that Ghiyath was ‘a favourite of Kings,’35 so it follows that he would have had access to the manuscripts produced in the royal kitab khana (‘book-making workshop’; also ‘library’), as well as manuscripts in his private library. However, the question remains open as to whether Ghiyath was personally involved in designing his figural silks based on paintings in early Safavid versions of the Khamsa or if the images were created by painters; if so, they would be handed to him as a cartoon, a black-andwhite outline intended for pictorial weaving using the tapestry technique. If the painters in the kitab khana were producing cartoons for the naqshbandan, these would only be guidelines. Unlike a tapestry, a drawloom silk could not be woven by following outlines, but by determining and creating the naqsheh, arranging the motifs into an appropriate repeat pattern layout and determining woven structures. In her article, Ackerman states that Ghiyath was also the painter (i.e. cartoon maker) for his textiles; she makes this connection based on what she cites as a cartoon for a silk in the collection of Bazl. Painted on silk and signed by Safi ‘Abbasi, one of the pupils of Reza ‘Abbasi (an early-seventeenth-century court painter for Shah ‘Abbas), Ackerman cites an inscription on the design that indicates its purpose.36 However, these assumptions do not directly connect Ghiyath to the creation of a cartoon for his signed textiles. Ackerman ultimately muddies the argument here; if a painter is designing motifs for figural silks, wouldn’t the naqshband be reliant upon this service? Is the implication that Ghiyath is so talented that he doesn’t 33 Steingass, A Comprehensive Persian-English Dictionary, 1419. 34 For a discussion of Ghiyath’s proclamation of being both a designer and a weaver, see Skelton, ‘Ghiyath al-Din ‘Ali-yi Naqshband,’ 250. 35 Mufidi, Jami’i Mufidi, cited in Skelton, ‘Ghiyath al-Din ‘Ali-yi Naqshband,’ 258. 36 Ackerman, ‘A Biography of Ghiyath the Weaver,’ 12, n. 6.

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need the intermediary of the painter, or that he doesn’t have access to skilled painters in Yazd? Margaret T.J. Rowe demurs with Ackerman’s assumption of the self-sufficient naqshband in her 1953 article ‘Persian Textiles,’ which includes the Khusrau and Shirin double cloth (fig. 3.6) in this study. In discussing the workshop systems for painters and textile designers, Rowe states: ‘Since some similar system seems to have existed for the painters, one can understand how easily it became possible for the weavers, who wished it, to get help and inspiration in designing from the painters. This probably accounts in part for the story-telling silks that were so popular at this time.’37 However, Rowe groups narrative silks with other subgenres of figural textiles when she declares: ‘[T]he figures and the story are usually simply incidental to a pleasing all-over pattern of line and color.’38 Rowe’s dismissal of the characters to mere decorative elements is indicative of the perspective that permeated earlier studies of these silks. This study presented takes the opposite view: that the early modern Persianate viewer would have recognized and identified with the poetic narratives and protagonists. In 2000, Robert Skelton brought a more critical voice to the connection of Ghiyath and the red lampas silk (fig. 3.2) depicting the lovers. Skelton illuminates some discrepancies with Ackerman’s account by tracing the history to its original Persian-language tazkira, the Jami’i Mufidi, and noting Ackerman’s omissions from Mufid’s section on Ghiyath. Skelton presents new details about the naqshband and speculates on the nature of naqshbandi in his publication. Recounting details from the tazkira by Sadiqi Beg, Maj’ma al Khavass, Skelton tells us that Sadiqi Beg visited Yazd ca. 1580, spending time in the naqshband’s home and library – noting his impressive collection of illustrated manuscripts. Skelton hypothesizes that Sadiqi Beg copied an engraving by a Netherlandish master in Ghiyath’s possession, indicating that it was natural for the naqshband to have a wide variety of visual reference materials due to the pictorial nature of his design-based occupation. Skelton also proposes that Sadiqi Beg may have been responsible for creating designs for silk by citing a flower study resembling floral silk designs of the era.39 By connecting images in Ghiyath’s library and Sadiqi Beg’s drawings, Skelton seems to imply that design motifs were shared between workshops – furthering the assumptions of scholars that Safavid painters created ‘cartoons’ for naqshbandan. 40 37 Rowe, ‘Persian Textiles,’ 2. 38 Ibid. 39 See Skelton, ‘Ghiyath al-Din Ali-yi Naqshband’; see Appendices A-F for translations about Ghiyath al-Din from various tazkira. 40 A ‘cartoon’ in the medieval and early modern context was an outline of a scale drawing produced in Europe by painters for tapestry weavers. This term is not analogous here, as it does not apply to the technology of the drawloom.

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The inner workings of Safavid textile workshops were explored by Jon Thompson in his essay ‘Safavid Carpets and Textiles,’ who pondered the remarkable stylistic similarity between Safavid manuscript painting and silk figural imagery.41 Questioning the assumption by earlier scholars that cartoons for these pictorial textiles were handed directly from the painting workshop to the weaving workshops, Thompson’s study elaborates on the necessity of creating the naqsheh prior to weaving the fabric, which requires careful planning of numerical thread sequences that only a naqshband such as Ghiyath knew how to calculate. Unlike painting, which focuses on creating a focal point within the borders of the composition, the goal of designing the repeat unit is to form a visually continuous composition throughout the cloth that avoids drawing the eye to one area. As Thompson points out, twentieth-century scholarship with regard to the decorative arts in the Safavid era made assumptions that there was a central naqqash khana (‘design workshop’) responsible for producing designs across all media, due to stylistic similarities and shared iconography in painting, ceramics and textiles. 42 Basing this observation on the late-sixteenth-century Gulistan-i Hunar (The Rose Garden of Art) by Qadi Ahmad, Thompson points out that, while painters and calligraphers created designs for metalwork, seal and architectural friezes, they are not recorded in this important text as having created cartoons for weavers. 43 However, the hypothetical connection between painting and textile design persists in scholarship. In her 2010 article, Galina Lassikova proposes that the painter and weaver worked in tandem to create the image upon which the naqsheh would be modelled. 44 Following this hypothesis, the naqsheh was created by the naqshband using a painted or drawn image as an outline to create a scale thread model of the repeat unit, which was attached to the harnesses supporting the warp threads. Skilled weavers would then weave the cloth with the assistance of 41 See Thompson, ‘Safavid Carpets and Textiles,’ 275-285, for a discussion of the karkhana and textile production in the Safavid period. 42 For a review of the relationship between artists working in different media in the early Safavid era, see Thompson, ‘Safavid Carpets and Textiles,’ 278-279. Thompson also reviews twentieth-century scholarship of Safavid textiles and carpets that is now deemed erroneous, unfounded and misleading in the same essay (pp. 271-273). 43 Thompson notes that, dating back to the Timurid era of the 1420s, the royal workshops of Baysunghur in Herat also included a naqqash khana, which is known to have worked closely with the kitab khana. There is some evidence of the naqqash khana producing designs for embroidered fabrics; however, the process of embroidery is an embellishment technique in which the image is ‘drawn’ by the needle, and does not require the rigorous structural analysis required when designing woven cloth. See Thompson, ‘Safavid Carpets and Textiles,’ 311, n. 27. 44 Lassikova, ‘Hushang the Dragon-Slayer,’ 31-32. See n. 5 for Lassikova’s publication on the topic (in Russian).

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a ‘draw boy,’ an assistant who lifted individual warp threads to create the pattern by following the naqsheh. 45 This seems to have been the standard procedure for creating pile velvets or flat-woven lampas silks, compound textiles woven with two or more warps in different weave structures (usually tabby, twill and satin in various combinations). Practical application of the naqsheh in the historic process of drawloom lampas and velvet weaving has been explored by textile historian, designer and manufacturer Rahul Jain at his workshop ASHA in Cholapur (near Varanasi, India). Inspired by seventeenth-century precedents, Jain has been designing and manufacturing silks since 1993 and details the many elements required to replicate the weight and texture of Safavid and Mughal examples – verifying the importance of an accurate thread model for creating pictorial silks. 46 Whether painters were involved in creating textile designs or naqshbandan were creating their own narrative imagery independently based on manuscript paintings available to them, there should be a reconsideration of how these early modern masters may have collaborated on shared motifs. Primary sources stating the exact process have yet to be discovered and translated. If the textile designers and painters were not utilizing images from a central workshop, how did the textile designers develop the imagery for their silks?47 Considering the close relationship that Ghiyath reportedly had with Shah ‘Abbas, and his employment in Qazvin during the early part of the shah’s reign, he may have been inspired by the collection and production of manuscripts at the court kitab khana. This brings to the foreground the issue of whether these representations of the characters are developed directly from illustrated manuscripts of Nizami’s Khamsa, and why these particular scenes are the ones that were produced and reproduced in several different textile designs, a point that will be discussed further in Chapter 2.

Craftsmen and Consumers The variation in woven structures and materials used to create this heterogenous group of silks indicates that the designs may have been created in different workshops for different purposes and consumer price points. Because several of the 45 Thompson, ‘Safavid Carpets and Textiles,’ 275. While Lassikova proposes a collaborative interdisciplinary approach, Thompson seems to believe that the textile workshops had their own ‘stock’ imagery. 46 For Mughal and Safavid examples of velvets, see Jain, Rapture, cat. no. 39 and 40, 124-127, respectively. For an overview of Jain’s work and process, see Barrett et al., ‘India in Situ.’ 47 This question has been pondered by several scholars. See Loukonine and Ivanov, Lost Treasures of Persia, 49.

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versions are unsigned, it cannot be known with certainty if these unnamed designers had access to illustrated manuscripts of the Khamsa, as Ghiyath may have had, and based their imagery on painted examples. Outside of elite circles, where costly books and extensive libraries were part of personal collections, another potential source of visual inspiration could have come from qissa-guyan (‘storytellers’) who frequented public squares and coffeehouses. 48 Whatever the source of inspiration, there is a shared interest among designers in the Khamsa characters and a shared iconographic language that identifies them to viewers. Why, at this particular moment in time and history, did these stories take on signif icance and popularity? Luxury textiles were purchased not only to impress viewers, but also to display the ideology of the wearer, a point that must be taken into account when determining the relationship between designer and consumer. The production of loom-woven textiles is not without financial considerations: for independent designers to profit from the venture, trends in the textile industry require a widespread interest in the product. From creating the intricate naqsheh which serves as a prototype, to warping multiple looms with polychromatic silk, the preparation of woven fabrics was expensive and labour intensive, requiring a significant capital investment; the royal coffers were not open to them as they may have been for those working in the karkhana-i khass creating textiles and garments for the purposes of the court. As far as we know, independent workshops had no specif ic patron dictating the specif ics of the design, which means there must have been enough consumer demand to justify the production of Khamsa silks. This leads to the hypothesis that these lower-priced luxury silks may have been produced for wealthy consumers in emulation of the metal-thread versions seen at court – a phenomenon known as the ‘trickle-down effect.’ In the context of the Khamsa silks, price would have been determined by both technique and the use of gold. Velvets without metal-wrapped threads, lampas-woven textiles and other techniques such as double cloth would have been less costly to produce. These textiles would presumably have been produced in an independent workshop, which may not have had enough capital to work with gold or silver. With regard to iconography, however, one must also consider that emulating designs produced for the court may have been prohibited by sumptuary laws. The high price of silks woven with gold thread – especially those signed by a well-known artist/designer – were the haute couture garments of their day, which would have been attainable only for the courtly elite. Therefore, independent workshops producing less expensive 48 Keyvani identifies qissa-guyan as having their own guild, with another group known as khass-guyan whom he hypothesizes as perhaps working exclusively at the royal court. See Keyvani, ‘Artisans and Guild Life in the Later Safavid Period,’ 63 and 247, respectively.

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fabrics with similar iconography may have serviced consumers in the middle and upper classes in the open market, delivering the same message to the viewer through a more affordable product. If this hypothesis is correct, it means that the double cloths, unsigned satins and velvets are what we call in modern vernacular ‘designer knock-offs.’49 Although this terminology seems anachronistic, the concept of emulating those with higher social rank is certainly not new, and sumptuous dress in the early modern Persianate world was a status symbol. One possible scenario explaining the propagation of the Khamsa lovers in textile design returns us to the famous naqshband. Perhaps the earliest versions of these silks are those signed by Ghiyath, which may have found their way from the royal manufactories as gifts to courtiers – encouraging designers to emulate his subject matter.50 It is unknown whether the textiles in the unsigned group were produced by competitors in separate workshops; presumably, there would have been more than one workshop competing for the business of the upper-middle-class consumer. However, the primary source materials do not specify this information, and this point remains somewhat speculative. This group of textiles demonstrates a variety of woven structures and materials depicting the same subject matter and valued correspondingly.51 The variation in price points indicates that the patrons of this type of cloth potentially included royalty, the wealthy elite and affluent middle-class consumers, also indicating that the iconography and narratives for Nizami’s lovers were easily recognized across a broad socio-economic strata by the late sixteenth century. This is a reasonable assumption, given the popularity of Nizami’s poetry from the educated elite, who were well versed in medieval Persian classic literature, to the middle and working classes who attended the newly popularized qahvehkhana (‘coffeehouses’) in Isfahan and other urban centres, where narrators ‘performed’ the stories by reciting the poems from memory from the early seventeenth century onwards.52 These performative narrations sometimes included large painted panels or scrolls that illustrated the climactic events in the story, which may have been 49 Marcketti and Parsons define design piracy as ‘unauthorized copying of another manufacturer’s or designer’s style.’ Marcketti and Parsons, Knock It Off!, xi. It should be noted that designs bearing similar iconography or style are distinct from counterfeiting, which is a direct copy illegally branded with another designer’s name or logo. 50 The point remains unclear as to whether or not certain designs or fabrics were regulated by sumptuary laws in the Safavid era. Based on the range of techniques in which this group of figural silks are produced, and the price points associated with the different techniques and materials, it seems reasonable to assume that anyone who could afford these textiles could purchase them for apparel or other uses. 51 Abul Fazl provides a list of approximate textile valuations in the last decade of the sixteenth century. See ‘Allami, A’in-i Akbari, A’in 32, section A: ‘Gold Stuffs,’ and section B: ‘Silks & Plain.’ 52 See Matthee, ‘Coffee in Safavid Iran,’ 5. Matthee notes the large amounts of coffee sold in Iran, which are largest in the first quarter of the seventeenth century.

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created using the same iconography as manuscript paintings; benches were reported by Tavernier to have been arranged in a semi-circular format to enable seated spectators to view the performance.53 The popularity and conviviality of the qahvehkhana was also noted by visitors such as Pietro Della Valle, Don Garcia de Silva y Fiegueroa, and Jean Chardin, among others, who had visited the qahvehkhana in Isfahan, the former stating the presence of Shah ‘Abbas and his entourage in the establishment.54 Nasrabadi’s Tazkira also mentions a learned pir who took up residence at the qahvehkhana in Isfahan at the end of the seventeenth century, and that coffeehouse patrons sought him out there for his counsel, where poets and men of learning and literature often congregated.55 On the nature of these patrons, Matthee states: ‘It is clear, moreover, that coffeehouses served as a forum for a Suf i-dominated counter culture which expressed itself in the narration of epic folk tales by wandering dervishes,’ evidence of the active interest in storytelling and self-fashioning in this period.56

Self-Fashioning in the Early Modern Persianate World In her influential essay, ‘The Draped Universe of Islam,’ Lisa Golombek stated: ‘Clothing provided the opportunity for an individual to emphasize any chosen aspect of his inner or outer state at any given moment.’57 The role of garments as a tool for expressing the internal condition of the wearer is the core of the study of the narrative group of figural silks as impression management, summarized by contemporary psychologist Joanne Finkelstein as the attempt to influence others’ perceptions through external factors.58 Finkelstein emphasizes the crucial role that clothing plays in social identity, as the window that conceals the physical body but reveals the internal self. The ‘fashioned self’ is the image that one presents to the outside world through the choice of garments. The fashioning of the external self also allows for the extension of self-presentation by creating an opportunity for the wearer to assume the role presented through the choice of dress. 53 Tavernier, Les six voyages, 448-489, cited in Matthee, ‘Coffee in Safavid Iran,’ n. 124, 25. There is little in the way of surviving qahvehkhana painting, but the contemporary tradition continues in Iran today among contemporary artists, and may be linked to earlier canons. 54 Cited in Matthee, ‘Coffee in Safavid Iran,’ 19. 55 Nasrabadi, Tazkira-i Nasrabadi, 290; cited in Matthee, ‘Coffee in Safavid Iran,’ 25, n. 123. 56 Matthee, ‘Coffee in Safavid Iran,’ 31. 57 Golombek, ‘The Draped Universe of Islam,’ 30. 58 Finkelstein, The Fashioned Self, 66 and 118.

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Figural silks served the function, from the perspective of impression management, of representing the person who donned these garments made of figural cloth.59 The poignancy of figural garments as tools of self-expression is compounded by their delicacy and worth as objects. Affluent Iranians gravitated towards beauty and fine objects, following trends set forth by the luxury of the Safavid court. The court of Shah ‘Abbas was resplendent with silk carpets and gold brocade textiles used for everything from sofreh cloths (a tablecloth spread on the floor for dining purposes) to garments and turbans, remarked upon by European visitors to his court.60 Beyond Safavid borders, figural silk textiles were disseminated through both trade and diplomacy, and Ghiyath’s fame seems to have been well established internationally. An allusion to the elevated status of textiles from his workshop from late-sixteenth-century Mughal India is documented in the A’in-i Akbari (Akbar’s regulations), which credits the naqshband with having designed 50 silks sent as a diplomatic gift from Shah ‘Abbas to the Mughal ruler Akbar in 1598.61 The discrepancy in chronology should be noted here: according to Skelton’s essay on the famous naqshband, the dates of Ghiyath’s life were approximately 15301593/1595; as such, 1598 postdates the life of the weaver and entrepreneur from Yazd by approximately three to five years.62 This brings about a series of questions, such as whether Ghiyath’s signature was applied to the design by his workshop posthumously in order to maintain the high status of his textiles. Alternately, the naqshband may have designed and supervised the weaving of these textiles at an earlier date; or perhaps the naqsheh was woven to his specifications by the workshop posthumously. A third possibility is that the silks were produced as a gift or commission for the Safavid sovereign by Ghiyath prior to the master’s demise, then removed from the royal treasury later and regifted to the Mughal court. Despite the plethora of references to Ghiyath, mentions of specific designers, textile patterns and recipients are rare, making patronage and production of the Khamsa silks significant issues upon which previous scholars have speculated little, accepting and propagating the existing analyses. Identifying the work of a designer or workshop relies upon a number of factors, including weave structure analysis, design layout and, to a lesser extent, materials – the easiest element of 59 Extant examples of Safavid figural garments include a velvet coat given as a gift to Queen Christina of Sweden by the czar of Russia (ca. 1644, in the Royal Armoury, Stockholm); and a lampas-woven overcoat (Hermitage State Museum, Moscow). See Harris, Textiles, 5,000 Years, 83; and Scarce, ‘Through a Glass Darkly?,’ 221. 60 Della Valle, Pietro’s Pilgrimage, 145. Della Valle observes the use of octagonal gold brocaded soffreh cloths, as well as gold and silver plates and serving dishes. Herbert corroborates the proliferation of gold and metal-ground textiles, even for the dress of the page boys. 61 ‘Allami, A’in-i Akbari, I, 1113, n. 745. 62 Skelton, ‘Ghiyath al-Din ‘Ali-yi Naqshband,’ 252.

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production to replace, as rare dyes, precious metals and expensive fibres could be substituted for alternate materials to produce a similar design with less expense. Designers may have also demonstrated their skills by producing stylistically different patterns and motifs, as with the signature styles of Ghiyath, making definitive attribution more challenging. To date, several silk lampas and velvet fragments have been attributed to Ghiyath; however, his signed designs outside the Khamsa group have different layouts than the two Layla and Majnun lampas designs (figs 3.1 and 3.2), which stand out somewhat from other works attributed to him. The third design signed by Ghiyath, a voided velvet depicting Khusrau and Shirin in the bathing scene in medallion-shaped fragments (figs 2.4 and 2.5), is more likely to be part of his body of work, perhaps during a period of engagement at the royal court in Qazvin under the patronage of Shah ‘Abbas. Silk velvets, as the most expensive and time-consuming textiles to produce, have been connected by several scholars to royal patronage due to the high expense of production and the use of metal-wrapped threads, a point with which Spuhler concurs.63 The unsigned designs in the Khamsa group include four velvets: one design of Majnun alone in the wilderness surrounded by animals, one of Layla and Majnun together in the wilderness, and two renditions of Khusrau and Shirin’s bathing scene. However, if these silk velvets were produced in a royal Safavid workshop where Ghiyath was employed, the question remains as to why he would sign one velvet design but not the other three.64 So if, as Pope proposed, Ghiyath was ‘especially absorbed’ in Nizami’s love poems, but only signed three of the eleven designs, one wonders who designed the others, to what purpose and for whom. This study further contextualizes the Khamsa textiles for the reader by discussing the link between self-fashioning and mystic belief by analyzing the connection of craftsmen, Sufi groups, royal patrons and the importance of Persian literary sources – especially the Khamsa – in the time of the Mughals and Safavids.65 The ruling monarchs in power at the end of the sixteenth century, Akbar (r. 1556-1605) and ‘Abbas, both fashioned themselves as embodiments of imperial power, legitimized through their spiritual lineage. Akbar’s successor, Jahangir (r. 1605-1627), also carefully crafted his image in the same manner, referencing specific characters in his memoirs and artistic commissions. Despite the conventional expectation for a spiritual path to be an ascetic one that rejects 63 Spuhler, Islamic Carpets and Textiles in the Keir Collection, 166. 64 Ghiyath’s relationship with the Safavid court is referenced by both Ackerman and Skelton and will be explored in more detail in Chapter 2. 65 The term ‘craftsmen’ will be used throughout this publication to indicate specif ically the male crafts specialists forming urban guilds, as these are often connected to fraternal Sufi orders, and in royal workshops where only men were employed.

Silk s, Signatures and Self-fashioning 

material possessions, these ‘dervish kings’ do not view these two states as being opposed to one another.66 In fact, there were deep connections between the Safavid and Mughal royal families and the Sufi groups that held great power in the Persianate world for centuries before these two dynasties were established. Shah Isma’il (r. 1501-1524), the founder of the Safavid dynasty, was descended from a Sufi shaykh (‘religious leader’) in Ardabil, Safi al-Din (d. 1334), from whom the dynasty derives its name. The Central Asian Mughal dynasty, founded by Babur (r. 1526-1530), traces its lineage to Timur (d. 1405), who himself became a Sufi disciple.67 The Mughals and Safavids are connected by bloodlines, politics and ideology, as there was intermarriage, military collaboration and mutual affinity for spiritual genealogy. The relationships between the royal families and the respective Sufi orders in Iran and India will be detailed throughout the book. Studies of diplomatic gift giving among early modern Eurasian empires showcase the importance of luxury objects as symbols of power.68 In addition to the material objects themselves, historical records include descriptions of gifts given and received, with silk textiles featuring prominently in Safavid and Mughal accounts. Scenes of gift-giving receptions in palaces and lavish garden settings convey the hospitality and graciousness of the host country, in which reception rooms and pavilions are draped with lengths of textiles and pictorial carpets are layered upon the ground.69 All forms of documentary evidence of the exchanges between Europe and the Persianate world are carefully constructed as a form of their respective courts. To this end, silk textiles and garments were impressive gifts representing the skills of its artisans, the wealth of the empire and coveted luxury commodities. Given the importance of outward appearances for the ruling classes, selffashioning in this period held national and international significance for these monarchs. In addition to the image projected to subjects within their own borders, early modern Islamic rulers engaged in Eurasian diplomacy, which allowed a much broader audience for their display of power and piety. Silk textiles, and particularly garments, held an important role in diplomatic relations as embassies were sent from one court to another. Within the Islamic world, the giving and receiving of khil‘at (‘robes of honour’), as well as the gift of uncut lengths of luxurious silks, played heavily in impression management for ambassadors representing their 66 See Munroe, ‘Dervish Kings and Sufi Silk.’ 67 Potter, ‘Sufis and Sultans,’ 99. 68 For studies on gift-giving practices in the Islamic World, see Komaroff and Blair, Gifts of the Sultan; Lambton, ‘Pishkash’; for cross-cultural Eurasian exchanges, see Langer, Fascination of Persia; for honorific garments in Mughal India, see Gordon, Robes of HonourKhil‘at . 69 For a brief overview of ambassadorial portraits and gifts depicted among early modern empires, see Overton, ‘Ambassadors and Their Gifts,’ 140-141.

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rulers. Depictions of the ceremonies identify the people involved, with portraits of ambassadors and courtiers featuring the honorary dress gifted to them by their sovereign.70 The selection and presentation of silks with precious metals woven into the face of the fabric represented the riches of the land, while motifs of human figures, birds and rich foliage represented the essence of the king. Why the Khamsa as a source of inspiration for textiles? In addition to the enduring quality and quantity of illustrated Khamsa texts by Nizami and other poets, the subjects in the book – kingship and love, which draw on Iranian as well as non-Iranian legends – represented a common goal within the Persianate world to strive for enlightenment through engagement with the world. Unlike other mystic traditions that require absolute seclusion from material things and outside society, different sects practicing Sufism developed varying approaches to attaining tawhid (‘oneness’) with God/the Divine without quitting the secular world, drawing a variety of adherents, including performing and visual artists, into their fold. Designers embedded the ideas and symbols of Sufism in their work, whether through iconography drawn from poetic metaphor, or by illustrating recognizable scenes from the edifying Persian literature propagated in the regions since the medieval period. The forthcoming chapter will examine the relationship between paintings, poetry and silks depicting scenes from ‘Khusrau and Shirin’ in Nizami’s Khamsa.

Works Cited Ackerman, Phyllis. ‘A Biography of Ghiyath the Weaver.’ Bulletin of the American Institute for Iranian Art and Archaeology 7 (1934): 9-13. Ackerman, Phyllis. ‘Ghiyath, Persian Master Weaver.’ Apollo 18 (1933): 252-256. ‘Allami, Abul Fazl. The A’in-i Akbari by Abul Fazl ‘Allami, Translated from the Original Persian. Translated by Heinrich Blochmann. 3 vols. Calcutta: The Asiatic Society of Bengal, 1873. Barrett, Annin, Carol Bier, Anna Jolly, Louise W. Mackie, and Barbara Setsu Pickett. ‘India in Situ: Textile History and Practice, A Team Approach.’ In Hidden Stories/Human Lives: Proceedings of the Textile Society of America 17th Biennial Symposium, October 15-17, 2020. https://digitalcommons.unl.edu/tsaconf/1191/ Bier, Carol, ed. Woven from the Soul, Spun from the Heart: Textile Arts of Safavid and Qajar Iran, 16th-19th Centuries. Washington, DC: The Textile Museum, 1987. Blow, David. Shah ‘Abbas: The Ruthless King Who Became an Iranian Legend. London and New York: I.B. Taurus, 2009. 70 Examples of Safavid ambassadors in their honorary garments (khil‘at ), as well as Mughal depictions of gift-giving ceremonies at court, will be elaborated upon in Chapter 6.

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Canby, Sheila R. Shah ‘Abbas: The Remaking of Iran. London: British Museum Press, 2009. Chardin, John. Travels in Persia, 1633-1677. New York: Dover, 1988. Dabīrsīāqī, Moḥammad. “Borhān-e Qāṭe‘.” Encyclopædia Iranica, online edition. Last updated: December 15, 1989. https://iranicaonline.org/articles/borhan-e-qate Della Valle, Pietro. Pietro’s Pilgrimage. Edited and translated by Winifred Blunt. London: James Barrie, 1953. Ekhtiar, Maryam, Priscilla P. Soucek, Sheila R. Canby and Navina Najat Haidar, eds. Masterpieces from the Department of Islamic Art in the Metropolitan Museum of Art. New York: The Metropolitan Museum of Art, 2011. Finkelstein, Joanne. The Fashioned Self. Philadelphia: Temple University Press, 1991. Golombek, Lisa. ‘The Draped Universe of Islam.’ In Content and Context of Visual Arts in Islam, ed. Priscilla Soucek and Richard Ettinghausen, 25-49. University Park: Pennsylvania State University Press, 1988. Gordon, Stewart, ed. Robes of Honour: Khil‘at in Pre-Colonial and Colonial India. New Delhi: Oxford University Press, 2003. Harris, Jennifer. Textiles, 5,000 Years: An International History and Illustrated Survey. New York: Harry N. Abrams, 1993. Herbert, Thomas Sir. A Relation of Some Yeares Trauaile: Begunne Anno 1626. Into Afrique and the Greater Asia, Especially the Territories of the Persian Monarchie: and Some Parts of the Orientall Indies, and Iles Adiacent. Of Their Religion, Language, Habit, Discent, Ceremonies, and Other Matters Concerning Them. Together with the Proceedings and Death of the Three Late Ambassadours: Sir D.C. Sir R.S. and the Persian Nogdi-Beg: as Also the Two Great Monarchs, the King of Persia, and the Great Mogol. London: Printed by William Stansby and Iacob Bloome, 1634. Jain, Rahul. Rapture: The Art of Indian Textiles. New Delhi: Niyogi Books, 2011. Jenkinson, Anthony. Journey of Anthony Jenkinson into Persia. London: Hakluyt, 1973. Kendrick, A.F., and T.W. Arnold. ‘Persian Stuffs with Figure Subjects–I.’ The Burlington Magazine for Connoisseurs 37, no. 212 (1920): 236-239, 242-245. Keyvani, Mehdi. ‘Artisans and Guild Life in the Later Safavid Period.’ PhD diss., Durham University. http://etheses.dur.ac.uk/7492/ Komaroff, Linda, ed. Gifts of the Sultan: The Arts of Giving at the Islamic Courts. Los Angeles, CA: Los Angeles County Museum of Art, 2011. Lambton, Ann. ‘Pishkash: Present or Tribute?’ Bulletin of the School of Oriental and African Studies, University of London 57, no. 1 (1994): 145-158. Langer, Axel, ed. The Fascination of Persia. Zurich: Scheidegger & Speiss, 2013. Lassikova, Galina. ‘Hushang the Dragon-Slayer: Fire and Firearms in Safavid Art and Diplomacy.’ Iranian Studies 43, no. 1 (2010): 29-51. Loukonine, Valadimir, and Anatoli Ivanov. Lost Treasures of Persia: Persian Art in the Hermitage Museum. Washington, DC: Mage Publishers, 1995.

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Manwaring, George. The Three Brothers: Or, The Travels and Adventures of Sir Anthony, Sir Robert, & Sir Thomas Sherley, in Persia, Russia, Turkey, Spain, etc. London: Hurst, Robinson & Co., 1825. Marcketti, Sara B., and Jean L. Parsons. Knock It Off! A History of Design Piracy in the US Women’s Ready-to-Wear Apparel Industry. Lubbock: Texas Tech University Press, 2016. Martin, F.R. Figurale Persische Stoffe aus dem Zeitraum 1550-1650. Stockholm, 1899. Membré, Michel. Mission to the Lord Sophy of Persia (1539-1542). Translated by A.J. Morton. London: E.J.W. Gibb Memorial Trust, 1999. Monshi, Eskandar Beg. The History of Shah ‘Abbas the Great (Tarikh-i Alamara-ye Abbasi). Translated by Roger Savory. 2 vols. Boulder, CO: Westview Press, 1978. Munroe, Nazanin Hedayat. ‘Dervish Kings and Sufi Silk: Weaving the Image of Majnun in the Early Modern Persianate World.’ In Objekt (Ge)Schichten (Object Stories/Layers), ed. Nora Baur, Annette Kniep and Daniela Maier. Korb, Germany: Didymos Verlag, 2022. Munroe, Nazanin Hedayat. ‘Interwoven Lovers: Safavid Narrative Silks Depicting Characters from the Khamsa.’ Ph.D. diss., University of Bern, 2017. http://biblio.unibe.ch/download/ eldiss/17munroe_n.pdf Munroe, Nazanin Hedayat. ‘Lovers, Legends, and Looms: Persian Narrative Poetry Depicted on Figural Silks in the Early Modern Period.’ In The Routledge Companion to Fashion Studies, ed. Eugenia Paulicelli, Veronica Manlow and Elizabeth Wissinger, 318-327. New York: Routledge, 2021. Nasrabadi, Mirza Muhammad Tahir. Tazkira-i Nasrabadi. Tehran: Armaghan Press, 1316-1317 H/1937-1938. Olearius, Adam. The Voyages & Travels of the Ambassadors Sent by Frederick Duke of Holstein, to the Great Duke of Muscovy, and the King of Persia. Translated by John Davies. London: Printed for Thomas Dring and John Starkey, 1662. Overton, Keelan. ‘Ambassadors and Their Gifts.’ In Gifts of the Sultan: The Arts of Giving at the Islamic Courts, ed. Linda Komaraoff, 141-142. Los Angeles, CA: Los Angeles County Museum of Art, 2011. Pope, Arthur Upham. Masterpieces of Persian Art. New York: Dryden Press, 1945. Pope, Arthur Upham, and Phyllis Ackerman, eds. A Survey of Persian Art from Prehistoric Times to the Present. 6 vols. London and New York: Oxford University Press, 1938-1939. Potter, Lawrence G. ‘Sufis and Sultans in Post-Mongol Iran.’ Iranian Studies 27, no. 1-4 (1994): 77-102. Rowe, Margaret T.J. ‘Persian Textiles.’ Bulletin of the Associates in Fine Arts at Yale 20, no. 2 (1953): 1-4. Scarce, Jennifer. ‘Through a Glass Darkly? Glimpses of Safavid Fashions of the Sixteenth Century.’ In Hunt for Paradise: Court Arts in Safavid Iran 1501-1576, ed. Jon Thompson and Sheila Canby, 319-326. Milan: Skira, 2003. Schmidt, J.H. ‘Persische Stoffe mit Signaturen von Ghiyas.’ In Jahrbuch der Kunsthistorischen Sammlungen in Wien, 219-227. Wien: A. Schroll, 1933.

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Shenasa, Nazanin Hedayat [now known as Nazanin Hedayat Munroe]. ‘Donning the Cloak: Safavid Figural Silks and the Display of Identity.’ Master’s thesis, San Jose State University, 2007. http://scholarworks.sjsu.edu/etd_theses/3421 Sherley, Anthony. Sir Antony Sherley, His Relation of His Travels into Persia: The Dangers and Distresses Which Befell Him in His Passage, Both by Sea and Land […] also a True Relation of the Great Magnificence, Valour, Prudence, Temperance […] of Abas, Now King of Persia, with His Great Conquests. London: N. Okes, printed for N. Butter and I. Bagset, 1613. Skelton, Robert. ‘Ghiyath al-Din ‘Ali-yi Naqshband and an Episode in the Life of Sadiqi Beg.’ In Persian Painting from the Mongols to the Qajars, ed. Robert Hillenbrand, 249-263. London and New York: I.B. Taurus, 2000. Sonday, Milton. ‘Patterns and Weaves: Safavid Lampas and Velvet.’ In Woven from the Soul, Spun from the Heart: Textile Arts of Safavid and Qajar Iran, 16th-19th Centuries, ed. Carol Bier, 57-83. Washington, DC: The Textile Museum, 1987. Spuhler, Friedrich. Islamic Carpets and Textiles in the Keir Collection. London: Faber and Faber, 1978. Steingass, Francis Joseph. A Comprehensive Persian-English Dictionary, Including the Arabic Words and Phrases to Be Met with in Pesian Literature. London: Allen, 1892. Tavernier, Jean-Baptiste. Voyage en Perse et description de royaume. Paris: Editions du Carrefour, 1930. Thompson, Jon. ‘Safavid Carpets and Textiles.’ In Hunt for Paradise: Court Arts in Safavid Iran 1501-1576, ed. Jon Thompson and Sheila Canby, 271-318. Milan: Skira, 2003. Underhill, Gertrude. ‘Fragments of a Khusraw and Shirin Velvet.’ Bulletin of the Cleveland Museum of Art 32, no. 6 (1945): 95-97.

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Dressed as King, Lover and Beloved: Khusrau and Shirin Abstract The romances in the Khamsa of Nizami Ganjavi are introduced in detail, focusing on Khusrau and Shirin. A narrative summary illustrates the relationship between the Sasanian king (r. 591-628) and the Armenian princess as they evolve from love-struck youths entangled in love triangles to the rulers of the Iranian empire. Silks depicting their initial meeting, as Khusrau watches a partially nude Shirin bathing in a stream, are studied in four different textile designs, one by Ghiyath al-Din and three by anonymous naqshbandan (‘textile designers’), and compared to paintings of the same period. The relationship between the gaze, the body and garments as a mode of communicating the inner self of the wearer is discussed as an expression of divine love and human desire. Keywords: Safavid silk, Safavid figural silk, Safavid narrative silk, drawloom silk, Safavid velvet

Poetry had become a signifier of nationalism more than a hundred years before Nizami’s time. The great poet Abul Qasem Ferdowsi (940-1019) codified the history of Iranian kingship in his Persian national epic, the Shahnama (The book of kings). Presented to the Ghaznavid Sultan Mahmud in 1010 and spanning approximately 30 years in its production, the Shahnama is composed in New Persian, comprised of more than 50,000 rhyming couplets called masnavi. The epic work celebrates ancient Iranian culture and represents a revival of the Persian language in the region, primarily as a rejection of Arab influence following the mid-seventh-century Islamic conquests of Iran. Ferdowsi’s Shahnama established Persian masnavi as the gold standard of poetry, functioning as the precedent for later poets throughout the Persianate

Munroe, N.H., Sufi Lovers, Safavid Silks and Early Modern Identity. Amsterdam: Amsterdam University Press, 2023 doi 10.5117/9789463721738_ch02

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world.1 Rulers assembled impressive libraries of handmade manuscripts, showcasing their wealth while also presenting themselves in serious contemplation of proper kingship. From the medieval era onward, it became a sign of breeding and erudition in the Persianate world to be familiar with the major literary works through memorization of poetic passages. New poetry was commissioned by the ruling class, and lengthy passages of classic poetry such as the Shahnama and the Khamsa were recited by storytellers at court, a tradition which continued into the early modern period. The poet known as Nizami Ganjavi (1141-1209) was born Ilyas ibn Yusuf Mu’ayyad in the region of Ganja, once part of Iranian territory (now modern-day Azerbaijan). Taking the name of his birthplace (Ganjavi means ‘from Ganja’) coupled with the title for a master, nizam, he would come to be known as the great poet of the Saljuq dynasty, rulers of greater Iran during the eleventh and twelfth centuries.2 The Saljuq governors were Sunni Muslims of Central Asian Turkish origin, and during Nizami’s lifetime these local rulers commissioned a number of literary works in Persian with the aim of legitimizing their rule in Iran and assimilating to Iranian culture. Ganja was a bustling city at the crossroads of Eurasian trade, providing the poet with a wide variety of source material for intercultural interaction; however, Nizami never ventured from the region, describing regions from Arabia to Armenia from his imagination. These literary landscapes would later serve as the backdrop for painted and woven scenes of the Khamsa lovers. The major works by Ferdowsi and Nizami became the most illustrated manuscripts in the Islamic world, and the latter built his narratives on those proffered by his predecessor, acknowledging his contribution.3 Although Nizami relied upon Ferdowsi’s brief mention of the romance of Khusrau and Shirin for the outline of his legendary tale, he expanded the storyline signif icantly in order to develop the characters. The practice of acknowledging the work of an earlier poet, while building upon or altering the narrative, became a formal standard established by Nizami. In the Persian-speaking world, this practice is known as 1 Ferdowsi’s Shahnama is comparable in both scope and function to Homer’s Odyssey, an epic poem of lovers and warriors in legendary wars and battles, with divine intervention guiding the characters together throughout the narrative. For an English translation, see Ferdowsi, Shahnameh. 2 The Saljuqs were Central Asian Turkic leaders who conquered Iran in the tenth century, and like many of the non-indigenous groups who ruled in Iran, they quickly assimilated to Persian culture. The Saljuqs created a tripartite government comprised of Turkic rulers, Arab clergymen and Iranian administrators, who established Persian as the language of the court. 3 Other precedents cited for Nizami’s Khamsa include: Sana’i’s Ḥadiqat al-ḥaqiqa (Garden of truth), Gorgani’s Vis wa Ramin, ‘Ayyuqi’s Varqa wa Golshah, and the Siyasatnama of Nezam al-Molk, among others. Nizami also draws from Arabic sources for ‘Layla and Majnun’ as well as historians, including Tabari. See Parrello, ‘Ḵamsa of Neẓāmī.’

Dressed as King, Lover and Beloved: Khusr au and Shirin 

javab-gui, most accurately translated as ‘literary response.’4 These responses are a conversation between a developing work and a literary classic, paying homage to the masterwork while creating a new narrative upon which future poets could build their work.

Lovers from Nizami’s Khamsa The Khamsa of Nizami is a collection of five poetic works assembled into a collection after his death (ca. 1209). Taken together, the quintet of epic poems became the model and inspiration for subsequent poets in subject matter, poetic metre and arrangement within the text.5 In the tradition of javab-gui, several later poets would create their own Khamsa. Each of Nizami’s epic poems is dedicated to a ruler who was the patron for the work; however, Nizami was never directly employed as a court poet, and does not appear in the annals of historic records listing the names of ruling families and eminent persons in each dynasty’s court. Much of the information on his life and work is embedded within the epics themselves.6 The Khamsa contains approximately 30,000 couplets dealing with various subjects, arranged in extant manuscripts in a specific order (see Table A).7 Since the stories and characters were based on historical legend, Nizami’s subject matter was not new to his audience. However, his rendition of the narrative of 4 Regarded by Western scholars as ‘literary imitation,’ this is an exercise performed by up-and-coming poets to prove their ability by writing in an established style, or ‘imitating’ the work of the masters. 5 Although a small corpus of his lyrical poetry has also survived, Nizami is best known for his Khamsa, produced between approximately 1166 and 1197. 6 Most scholars agree on the significant facts of Nizami’s personal life. The poet was married three times and remained monogamous during each marriage. His first wife, Afaq, was originally a Qipchak slave granted as a gift to him by Fakhr al-Din Bahram Shah, whom he married against the convention of the day. Nizami and Afaq produced the poet’s only son, Muhammad, to whom Nizami directs several lines of advice in the introduction of ‘Layla and Majnun.’ The more intimate details of Nizami’s life are rooted in the Khamsa itself, such as the character of Shirin being modelled on Afaq, and his fatherly concern for educating his son to lead a proper life by learning from the examples of the male characters in his narratives. See Lornejad and Doostzadeh, On the Modern Politicization, 50-57. For a complete Persian-English translation of the introduction to Nizami’s ‘Layla and Majnun,’ see Nizami Ganjavi, The Story of Layla and Majnun. 7 The order of Nizami’s poems in extant manuscripts of the Khamsa does not reflect the chronological order of his work. ‘Haft Paykar’ has a later date of completion (1197) than ‘Iskandarnama’ (1194), but they are arranged in extant manuscripts in the order listed above. It is interesting to observe that Amir Khusrau’s Khamsa, which was produced as a response to his predecessor’s work earlier than the oldest extant manuscript of Nizami’s Khamsa, places these last two poems in order of Nizami’s chronology: ‘Ayineh-yi Iskandari’ is the fourth poem, and ‘Hasht Behesht’ is the final work. This suggests that the order of earlier copies of Nizami may have been arranged differently. See Parrello, ‘Ḵamsa of Neẓāmī.’

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Table A:  Epic Poems in Nizami’s Khamsa as Arranged in Manuscripts Persian Title (Transliteration and Translation)

Date Completed ~ Length of Poem

Plot Summary

Makhzan al-Asrar (The storehouse of mysteries)8

1166 2,260 couplets

Khusrau and Shirin

Completed between 1176 and 1186 6,500 couplets

Layla and Majnun

1188 4,600 couplets

Haft Paykar (Seven beauties)9

1197 5,130 couplets

Iskandarnama (Book of Alexander)

1194 10,500 couplets

Twenty moral discourses intended for the education and edification of rulers A romance based on the historical courtship and marriage of Sasanian king Khusrau Parviz and the Armenian princess, Shirin Legend of the Bedouin lover, Qays, later to become ‘Majnun’ (Ar., ‘madman’) due to his separation from his beloved, Layla Legend of the fifth-century Sasanian king Bahram Gur and his interaction with seven storytelling princesses, residing in seven monochromatic domed pavilions Composed in two sections, referred to as the Sharafnama (The book of honour), describing the deeds and life of Alexander as king and conqueror, and the Iqbalnama (The book of fortune), describing Alexander’s role as philosopher and prophet

Khusrau and Shirin differs somewhat from that of Ferdowsi, written almost two centuries earlier, in that it explores each character’s emotional state while introducing additional characters into the narrative. Nizami was also the first poet to codify the legend of Layla and Majnun as a comprehensive narrative, which had been circulating in the Arabian Peninsula as an oral legend as early as the eighth century. In each story, the narrative and characters were adapted to appeal to medieval Persianate court culture. Perhaps ironically – or perhaps significantly – only one of his four romantic protagonists, Khusrau, was from Iran.8 9 8 An alternate translation of Makhzan al-Asrar is ‘The treasury of secrets.’ See Brend, The Emperor Akbar’s Khamsa of Niẓāmī, 6. 9 Alternately translated as ‘Seven domes.’

Dressed as King, Lover and Beloved: Khusr au and Shirin 

Although four poems in the quintet of Nizami are considered romances, based on current scholarship only two of these appear to have been depicted on silk. The seemingly unwoven love stories include the ‘Iskandarnama’ (‘The story of Alexander’), which relates the life of Alexander the Macedonian king (356-323 BCE); as well as the lengthiest poem in the Khamsa, ‘Haft Paykar’ (‘Seven beauties’), a frame story focusing on Sasanian king Bahram Gur (r. 420-438 CE) and his seven transregional princess-lovers, each of whom is housed in a monochromatic pavilion representing a symbolic colour. Love scenes from the ‘Haft Paykar’ appear often in illustrated manuscripts of Nizami’s Khamsa, generally including one scene for each princess, with a reclining Bahram listening intently as the princesses narrate their allegorical tales for his delight. There was an abundance of literary and visual material available for weavers to depict scenes from this tale in a different medium; however, at present we have no evidence of any silks being reproduced with these narrative themes. With this curiosity in mind, scenes depicted in silk from the first love story from Nizami’s treasure chest is briefly summarized for the reader in the forthcoming section.

The Romantic Tragedy of Nizami’s ‘Khusrau and Shirin’ Basing his tale on legends of the Sasanian ruler Khusrau Parviz (Victorious Ruler) (r. 590-628 CE), Nizami situates his twelfth-century audience in Iran’s glorious past. Khusrau, prince and heir apparent to the throne, comes from a long line of brave and just rulers. In his youth he is sent away from the empire’s capital, raised to be a skilful hunter and wise ruler with the advice of the court sage, Bozorg Omid. He is expected to follow the example of his father, King Hormuzd, a strict ruler who makes no exceptions to the law for his son. To minimize crime in his kingdom, King Hormuzd issues a decree in which misdemeanours are to be swiftly and justly punished. While on a hunting expedition, Khusrau’s retinue carouses in a nearby village, trampling a farmer’s plot with his horse and encouraging his page to steal some grapes as a minstrel entertains the drunken party to musical accompaniment. Hormuzd is furious at his son’s reckless behaviour; he punishes Khusrau by taking away the horse, the page, the musician and his royal throne. The young prince regrets his actions and enacts a dramatic show of contrition for his father, after which Hormuzd forgives him. Khusrau’s repentance brings about a divinatory dream: his grandfather, Khusrau Anushirvan (Honourable Ruler; hereafter Anushirvan) comes to him to assure the prince that his humility will benefit him in the future. Anushirvan prophecies that Khusrau will be compensated for his losses with four gifts from Fate. He will ride Shabdiz, the world’s swiftest horse; he will sit on Taqdis, the finest throne; he will

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be serenaded by the skilled musician Barbad; and one day he will have Shirin, his ‘destined love,’ whose sweetness and beauty will charm him all his life.10 Khusrau wakes from the dream somewhat heartened yet feels a sense of longing for that which has been foretold but unattained. Following this event, Khusrau goes riding with his closest friend, Shahpur, a well-travelled painter whose skills in portraiture are unrivalled in the region. To raise his friend’s spirits, the artist describes a kingdom in Armenia whose young princess, Shirin, is a most beautiful and enchanting woman. Khusrau recognizes her name from the prophetic dream and is spurred into action. The narrative here seamlessly integrates the concepts of fate, free will and divination, as Khusrau immediately dispatches Shahpur across the Iranian plateau to bring Shirin back to him. Once he arrives in Armenia, Shahpur uses his skills as a painter to create an idealized portrait of Khusrau, hanging it in a tree on a plain where the princess and her maidens are having a picnic. Bewitched by the portrait, Shirin becomes enamoured with the prince’s likeness and becomes determined to meet him. Meeting secretly, Shahpur and Shirin concoct a plan to separate the princess from her attendants so she can pursue her affections for Khusrau. While riding, she escapes the close watch of her guards by galloping away on her speedy horse, Shabdiz, and flees towards Khusrau’s palace in Kermanshah. Shahpur has given the princess a royal seal ring, so she can prove her connection to the king if she is questioned upon her arrival. In order for the lovers to recognize one another en route, Khusrau is supposed to ride towards Shirin in his characteristic red royal robes as she travels to his kingdom. As fate would have it, just before his departure Khusrau is villainized in a plot to overthrow his father by restless nobility, who circulate gold coins minted in his name and create a rumour that he is planning to usurp the Sasanian throne. To escape imprisonment, Khusrau flees the realm dressed as a peasant, doffing his red royal garments as he travels towards Armenia. Meanwhile, Shirin rides towards Khusrau in Iran, searching for his red robes over the horizon. After the princess has been travelling on the dusty road for two weeks, she stops by a clear stream, allowing her prized horse to drink. Ascertaining that she is alone, Shirin removes her clothing, steps into the clear water and begins to bathe. Khusrau, who has ridden ahead of his travelling companions, unexpectedly finds her bathing in the stream. He watches her from a hilltop as she washes her long black hair, Shabdiz grazing nearby. Nizami describes Khusrau’s first impression of Shirin:

10 Chelkowski, Mirror of the Invisible World, 22.

Dressed as King, Lover and Beloved: Khusr au and Shirin 

Suddenly, he came across the pool in the emerald field and saw Shirin sitting in the water like a lily. At the sight of her his heart caught fire and burned; he trembled with desire in every limb. Softly he rode toward her and whispered to himself how he would like to have such a beautiful maiden and such a black horse as hers, little knowing that one day they would both be his.11

Suddenly, Shirin sees her onlooker and covers her nude body with her long hair as she emerges from the stream, dressing quickly and mounting her horse for a swift departure. Khusrau weeps silently at her exit, then continues towards Armenia. Though neither lover recognizes the other with certainty, this is their first face-toface encounter, marking a definitive moment in the narrative. Shirin finally arrives at the Kermanshah palace and presents the king’s ring to his court as planned. As a precaution, she refuses to reveal her identity to the servants, who are obliged to accommodate her. In Khusrau’s absence, she shuts herself in a palace room overlooking the dusty plains, where she spends several weeks awaiting her lover’s arrival. The household servants tell Shirin that Khusrau left instructions for his workmen to build her a residence anywhere she likes. She requests that a residence be built for her in a more hospitable region with green foliage, to remind her of Armenia. However, the jealous women of the palace household instruct the workmen to build in an uninhabitable and arid place, and Shirin is forced to stay indoors like a prisoner. Conversely, when Khusrau reaches Armenia, he is welcomed with great ceremony by Queen Mihin Banu, Shirin’s aunt, who has not received word from her niece. When Shahpur arrives in Armenia, he reveals the elaborate plan to unite the lovers with news that the beautiful and strong-minded Shirin is safe in Kermanshah. Khusrau immediately sends Shahpur back to Iran to retrieve the princess, who is still waiting for him. During the chase of the lovers, King Hormuzd has died, leaving a power vacuum in the absence of his heir. As political intrigue at the Sasanian court is mounting, Khusrau must rush back to claim his throne. By the time Shirin returns to her palace in Armenia, Khusrau has already departed for his homeland, where he is met with a great challenge: Bahram Chobin, a power-hungry general close to the late king, undermines Khusrau by spreading false rumours of patricide. Forced to flee again, Khusrau rides towards Armenia, and incidentally encounters Shirin a second time while she on the hunting field with her entourage. At this meeting, both royals break their silence; Shirin consoles the distraught Khusrau and shelters him in her palace. Although Queen Mihin Banu is supportive of their union, she warns Shirin against allowing Khusrau to satisfy his desires before they 11 Translation by Chelkowski in ibid., 27.

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are wed; the couple therefore spends several weeks together chaperoned by the queen and her retinue. Shirin gently reminds Khusrau that he has lost his throne and must regain his power before too much time has passed; to encourage him, she promises her hand in marriage, which spurs him to action. In order to fight against Bahram Chobin’s powerful army, Khusrau enlists the assistance of the Byzantine emperor in exchange for betrothal to the emperor’s daughter, Maryam.12 Following the successful defeat of Bahram Chobin’s army, Khusrau regains his throne and fulfils his promise to marry the emperor’s daughter. Khusrau and Maryam’s union produces a son, Shiruya, further inciting the jealousy of his jilted fiancée. Nizami’s Shirin, however, is steadfast in her devotion to Khusrau. During the course of their separation, Shirin continues to reside in the palace that has been constructed for her in the arid region of Kermanshah. As she is conversing with Shahpur, she mentions her longing for fresh milk, and he brings her request to the court of Khusrau. The king agrees to commission Farhad, an engineer and sculptor who was a former classmate of Shahpur, for this task. Farhad meets with Shirin to obtain the details of her request, instantly becoming smitten with his patroness, whose voice intoxicates him from behind a curtain separating them. The strong and clever Farhad uses his engineering skills to create a channel in the mountainside from a faraway pasture to the palace, where goatherds can pour milk into a trough travelling down the hillside so that it collects in a pool by the palace door. Khusrau becomes mad with jealousy when he hears of Farhad’s accomplishment, realizing that he has developed an attachment to Shirin. Hatching a plan to divert his attentions, Khusrau calls the enamoured sculptor to the court. Khusrau offers gold in exchange for the young man to distance himself from Kermanshah, but Farhad refuses the bribe. Khusrau then sets the impossible task before the sculptor of carving a road through a menacing mountain at the site of Bisutun, promising him Shirin’s hand in marriage as his reward – a challenge to which he agrees. Farhad sets immediately to work on this arduous feat; Shirin hears of his plight, pities her admirer and visits him at the site.13 When the task is 12 Although Nizami does not name the Byzantine emperor, the time period of Khusrau’s struggle corresponds with the reign of Maurice (r. 582-602) and it is documented that Maurice provided an army of 35,000 men to help Khusrau regain his throne, against a unanimous Senate vote, in 590-591. For a translation of the letter that Khusrau wrote to Maurice requesting assistance, see Baum, Shirin, 22. Baum also questions the validity of the marriage of Khusrau to Maryam/Maria (see pp. 26-30). 13 Nizami writes that Shirin offers Farhad a drink from her f lask of milk; then, as she sets off for home, her tired horse stumbles; horse and rider fall to the ground. Farhad lifts them both up on his shoulders and carries them all the way to Shirin’s residence. See Chelkowski, Mirror of the Invisible World, 37.

Dressed as King, Lover and Beloved: Khusr au and Shirin 

nearly completed, Khusrau panics about having to follow through on his promise. He sends a messenger to falsely inform Farhad that Shirin has died, inducing the passionate sculptor to throw himself off the edge of the mountain in grief, resulting in his suicide. Shirin mourns his death, lamenting that Khusrau would never be as devoted to her as Farhad. Despite this realization, Shirin is still pining for Khusrau. Following the Farhad episode, Khusrau’s first wife, Maryam, dies, and he sends a messenger to Shirin informing her that they would be wed at last; however, the inconstant Khusrau still pursues others. While en route to Shirin’s residence, he stops in Isfahan, where a courtesan named Shekar seduces him and convinces him to take her as his wife, frustrating the faithful Shirin further. After some time, Khusrau tires of the courtesan and misses Shirin. He leads an extended hunt party in the direction of Armenia, but when he arrives at her palace expecting a warm welcome, she bitterly reproaches him for his conduct. Khusrau returns to his camp; Shirin repents and rides out to find him in the middle of the night. Shahpur acts as intermediary once again: he keeps Shirin hidden from Khusrau, then arranges for the court musician Barbad and singer Nikisa to perform the couple’s responses to each other, resulting in mutual forgiveness. The lovers finally marry amid much festivity and are enthroned. Khusrau and Shirin produce a son and daughters, and they enjoy a peaceful reign for several years, fulf illing the prophecy of Anushirvan. Despite the happy years together, however, the romance ends in tragedy. Khusrau’s son from his marriage to Maryam, Shiruya, has him imprisoned by the royal guards on false allegations. Shirin has willingly gone to prison with her husband but cannot prevent his assassination in the palace dungeon. Khusrau is stabbed in the middle of the night and dies silently, with an exhausted Shirin asleep by his side. The disloyal Shiruya usurps the throne of his murdered father, then asks his stepmother to marry him. Shocking the reader, Shirin agrees to his proposal, in exchange for an elaborate funeral for Khusrau. Shirin leads the funeral procession to the royal mausoleum, then shuts herself inside and commits suicide on Khusrau’s corpse. Nizami ends his tale with the entire country grieving the death of the royal lovers, assuring readers that Khusrau and Shirin were united eternally in the afterlife. In addition to being an enthralling tale narrated in cliff-hanger instalments as evening entertainment at court, ‘Khusrau and Shirin’ served the purpose of edifying the ruling class. The poet presents the historic king as both hero and rogue lover, experiencing measured portions of success and failure, with his life ended abruptly at the hand of his jealous son. The relationship between the characters served as a reminder in Iranian culture for women to be loyal, patient and steadfast in their emotions, while acknowledging the philandering nature of men.

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Khusrau and Shirin in Paintings and Safavid Silks Over the centuries following Nizami’s completion of his epic, royal patrons commissioned several illustrated manuscripts of his Khamsa. Nizami’s rich literary descriptions in the Khamsa provided a wealth of metaphoric imagery that easily lent itself to depiction, and canons were established that would propagate throughout the Persian-speaking world. The oldest complete extant manuscript of the Khamsa is dated 1362 (AH 763) and resides in the Bibliothèque Nationale in Paris (Supplément Persan 1817).14 Fourteenth-century manuscripts include paintings depicting the scenes that will become part of the ‘cycle of illustration’: the scenes from the narrative most often reproduced as paintings accompanying handwritten copies of the text.15 These early illustrated Khamsa manuscripts were produced for the ruling classes of the Jalayirid dynasty (1340-1432) ruling Iraq and western Iran, and the Muzaffarid dynasty (1314-1393) in Kerman, Fars and western Iran, including Shiraz, which would become known for its own unique style from the thirteenth century to the sixteenth century. The Shiraz painting style is characterized by large-scale figures set in a flattened landscape, rendered in solid colours or gold leaf, which would evolve over time to include textural details representing flora and bright colours outlined in black. A Muzaffarid Khamsa of Nizami in the Keir Collection dated 1380-1400 includes a folio of ‘Khusrau Watching Shirin Bathing’ that represents an early example of the composition for this scene.16 The figures are placed in the approximate centre of the page in a hilly landscape, in proximity to one another. Khusrau is mounted on horseback next to the stream, and Shirin is in the pool washing her hair. The couple gaze directly at one another in the moment of discovery, while Shirin’s horse Shabdiz hovers nearby. The clothing that the princess has removed hangs on a nearby branch, but she is covered by a cloth from the waist down. Many of these details are faithful to Nizami’s poem and reproduced in subsequent paintings of this scene. Illustrated manuscripts of the Khamsa of Nizami continued to be produced by workshops for the Timurid dynasty (1370-1501 CE) and Turkman Aq Qoyunlu (White Sheep, 1378-1508) and Kara Qoyunlu (Black Sheep, 1378-1468) dynasties. These examples often include the same scenes in the cycle, include the bathing scene depicting a partially nude Shirin and her royal onlooker.17 Turkman paintings commissioned by princes from the ruling families and local governors were copied 14 Parrello, ‘Ḵamsa of Neẓāmī.’ 15 Brend discusses the ‘cycle of illustration’ at length in the introduction to her book, Perspectives on Persian Painting (pp. vii, xix, xxiv and xxvi). Also see Brend, ‘Akbar’s “Khamsah” of Amīr Khusrau Dihlavī.’ 16 Reproduced in Canby, Persian Painting, 39, fig. 21. 17 One fourteenth-century example is the Royal Aq Qoyunlu Khamsa of Nizami, now in the Topkapi Palace Museum (Hazine 762), which includes the bathing scene.

Dressed as King, Lover and Beloved: Khusr au and Shirin 

in fine calligraphic script complemented by paintings with large-scale figures occupying most of the picture plane, with the landscape framing the scene. Turkmen and Timurid paintings were developed in private workshops established in Herat (modern-day Afghanistan) and Tabriz (northern Iran), by members of the ruling family. As the dominant power in the region, the Timurids in Herat became major patrons of luxury arts, including commissioning copies of the Khamsa of Nizami. A Timurid example at the Hermitage Museum dated 1431 (VP-1000) includes some of the scenes that would become canonized in Persian painting, such as ‘Majnun in the Wilderness’ and ‘Khusrau Spying on Shirin Bathing.’ Although each locale and workshop had its own stylistic features, figural paintings from the fifteenth century evolved to include a more complex arrangement of pictorial elements, with delicately rendered horses and elongated figures set in foliated gardens or cross-sectional architectural settings. Some manuscripts were produced in stages over time, such as the Khamsa of Nizami at the British Library (Add. MS 25900), reflecting changes in style and often in patronage and politics. This manuscript includes some of the most commonly illustrated scenes in the Khamsa, such as Shirin examining the portrait of Khusrau (f.41r) and the bathing scene (f.44v); however, with illustrations dating as early as 1442 and others dated as late as 1490, the whole manuscript incorporates a broad range of painting styles as they evolved over time.18 The later paintings ca. 1490 include at least one confirmed painting by Bihzad (1450-1535), head of the royal kitab khana of Baysunghur from 1470 to 1506 in Herat, whose style is typified by small-scale figures with a thin black outline, proportionately set within the landscape.19 Headed by Bihzad and his pupils, the Herat painting style developed its own composition, somewhat altering the figural placement in scenes from the previous Khamsa cycle of illustration to show a greater distance between Khusrau and Shirin. In Add. MS 25900, attributed to Bihzad, the painter separates the lovers with a poignantly placed tree centrally dividing the picture plane. Painting and book production during and previous to the Safavid era was a collective enterprise.20 The kitab khana was assembled and dismantled at the 18 See Brend, ‘A Khamsah with Illustrations.’ Brend states generally that a manuscript produced over time indicates either an interruption during manuscript creation, or the alteration and addition of scenes to satisfy a later patron. 19 Simpson, ‘The Making of Manuscripts,’ 112; after Lentz and Lowry, Timur and the Princely Vision, 311-312. It was not clear if the date of the decree was before or after Shah Tahmasp’s ascension to the throne. 20 One of the most illuminating primary sources about the kitab khana (painting workshop) is a treatise by Qadi Ahmad who wrote Gulistan-i Hunar (The rose garden of art) in the late sixteenth century (the first completed edition is dated 1597-1598). It was translated from Persian to English by Minorsky, citing the author as ‘Qādī Aḥmad, Son of Mīr Munshī,’ and titling his translation Calligraphers and Painters (ca. 1015 AH/1606 CE). Later Safavid practices and procedures with regard to the kitab khana is documented

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will of elite or royal patrons, and encompassed multiple functions including that of atelier, collection repository and library.21 For the most talented and esteemed artists, employment was provided on a more permanent basis in the karkhana-i khass; independent artists could seek employment with patrons in non-imperial workshops for specific projects, which could vary in the length and duration.22 Each painting included in a manuscript is created by several members of a collaborative team. Each member was responsible for an area of specialty, including human figures, animals, landscape and ornament; calligraphy in six different modes (Thuluth, Naskh, Nasta’liq, Kufic and others); illumination; and gilding.23 Other tasks involved preparing and tinting paper; adding ruled lines for calligraphers; making frontispieces for albums; gold flecking; lapis lazuli washing; and making of stencils and cut-outs.24 Paint preparation was also a separate activity, which required grinding pigment derived from minerals or plants and adding a binder, usually gum Arabic, to make a water-soluble paint. Manuscript production was also dependent on the work of bookbinders, papermakers and scribes.25 Each kitab khana had a kitab-dar, or head of the atelier.26 A royal decree dating to the early 1520s announced the appointment of Bihzad as head of the royal kitab khana at Tabriz following his extensive employment in Herat, where the Safavid style of painting would develop.27 By the Safavid era, illustrated manuscripts of Nizami’s Khamsa included a relatively even distribution of paintings in each of the five sections, describing the climactic moments of each narrative, and nearly all included the bathing scene. The Safavid Khamsa of Nizami manuscript (1524-1525) used for comparison in this study was painted in the Tabriz style, early in the reign of Shah Tahmasp (the grandfather in the manual of Safavid administration dating from the end of the dynasty. See Simpson, ‘The Making of Manuscripts,’ 110, after Minorsky (translator of Tadhkirat al-Muluk). 21 See Simpson, ‘The Making of Manuscripts,’ on the workings and structure of the kitab khana. Simpson notes that ‘in Safavid Iran […] the making of manuscripts occupied as much, if not more, energy that any of the other visual arts (except perhaps textiles)’ (p. 105). 22 Canby, ‘The World of the Early Safavids,’ 22; after Simpson, ‘The Making of Manuscripts.’ In addition to Shah Tahmasp, whose kitab khana produced the famous Shahnama (1524-1525) at the Metropolitan Museum (1970.301), other Safavid royal patrons include Shah Isma’il (his father), Bahram Mirza, Sam Mirza and Ibrahim Mirza, whose kitab khana produced the Haft Awrang manuscript at the Smithsonian National Museum of Asian Art (F46.12), as well as other manuscripts in American and European collections. Later Safavid patrons include Ismail II and Shah ‘Abbas I. 23 For more on the decorative modes, see Necipoğlu, ‘Early Modern Floral,’ 134-135 and 138. 24 Thompson, ‘Safavid Carpets and Textiles,’ 278. 25 Simpson, ‘The Making of Manuscripts,’ 112. 26 The Haft Awrang of Jami at the Smithsonian National Museum of Asian Art produced by the kitab khana of Sultan Ibrahim Mirza is signed by his illuminator, Muhibb ’Ali, as ‘kitab-dar.’ See Simpson, ‘The Making of Manuscripts,’ 108. 27 It was not clear if the date of the decree was before or after Shah Tahmasp’s ascension to the throne. Simpson, ‘The Making of Manuscripts,’ 112; after Lentz and Lowry, Timur and the Princely Vision, 311-312.

Dressed as King, Lover and Beloved: Khusr au and Shirin 

of ‘Abbas I), 25 years prior to the earliest date given for silk textiles depicting the scene. Residing in the permanent collection at the Metropolitan Museum of Art (13.228.7), the near-complete manuscript was a commission signed by well-known calligrapher Muhammad Nur and illuminator Mahmud Muzahhib, with paintings executed in the Herat workshop supervised by master Bihzad and his top pupil, Shaykh Zada. The Khamsa of Nizami manuscript was purchased in 1908 by F.R. Martin in Paris from an unnamed Armenian merchant who had acquired it ‘from the women of the Harem,’ who claimed that the shah gave it to them to pay for their dresses and perfume.28 Although this rather vague description still leaves some question as to the chain of custody, the manuscript contains the complete Khamsa of Nizami and is stamped with the Safavid royal seal. The seal was scratched out and replaced with a later Qajar inscription dated 1260 AH/1844 CE.29 Given its long residence in the royal kitab khana, it is believed that the paintings have undergone little alteration, in comparison with other manuscripts which were seized as spoils of war or gifted to other courts.30 The manuscript originally contained sixteen paintings, four of which correspond to the story of Khusrau and Shirin: the first meeting of the lovers in the bathing scene, and Shirin visiting Farhad as he carves the channel at Bisutun, both of which are included in the group of Safavid silks depicting the story.31 As in examples from the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries, the bathing scene (fig. 2.1) depicts a seated Shirin with her bottom half covered by a cloth, in a once-silver pool now tarnished to a dark gray.32 During the early Safavid era, the composition is altered to show the lovers placed at opposite corners of the picture plane. Faithful to Nizami’s description, Shirin washes her long hair, which has been skilfully illustrated to cover her breasts as she gazes at the water. She is unaware of her voyeur, who sits atop his steed on the hillside rising up behind the pool. 28 The manuscript was a gift of Alexander Smith Cochran in 1913 to the Metropolitan Museum. See Martin, The Nizāmī Ms., 7-8. Several of the paintings are also included in Chelkowski, Mirror of the Invisible World. 29 See Martin, The Nizāmī Ms., 10. According to Martin, the Safavid seal is now scratched out and was replaced with a later Qajar inscription: ‘This was written in the month of Zu’l Hijja, 1260 (A.D. 1844). Underneath is a seal with the name Sultan Husain, 1260 [second son of Fath Ali Shah]. Paintings originally had the word “waqf ” written, now covered with colors.’ 30 One of many examples of an illustrated manuscript gifted to a neighbouring ruler is the Shahnama commissioned by Shah Tahmasp ca. 1524, produced concurrently with the Khamsa of Nizami included in this study. The Shahnama was gifted to Sultan Selim II (r. 1566-1574) on his ascension to the Ottoman throne in 1566. 31 The paintings in the Metropolitan Museum manuscript are ‘Khusrau Catches Sight of Shirin Bathing’ (13.228.7.3) and ‘Farhad Carves a Milk Channel for Shirin’ (13.228.7.5). 32 For Timurid examples of the bathing scene in Nizami’s ‘Khusrau and Shirin,’ see F.1931.32 at the Smithsonian National Museum of Asian Art, Washington, DC, or 28.22 at the Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York.

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Figure 2.1: Khusrau Catches Sight of Shirin Bathing (detail). Folio from a Khamsa of Nizami. Painting by Shaikh Zada. Calligraphers: Sultan Muhammad Nur and Mahmud Muzahhib. 1524-1525, Safavid Iran. Ink, opaque watercolour, and gold on paper. L: 12 5/8 in. (32.1 cm), W: 8 3/4 in. (22.2 cm). The Metropolitan Museum of Art (13.228.7.3). Gift of Alexander Smith Cochran, 1913.

Dressed as King, Lover and Beloved: Khusr au and Shirin 

Khusrau is placed diagonally from Shirin towards the top of the composition; although the placement of the figure in fifteenth-century examples often place the king entering at the top left, in the Safavid Khamsa painting Khusrau has been moved to the upper right quadrant of the scene. He looks down at Shirin with one finger held to his mouth, a characteristic gesture of surprise utilized in figural painting.33 Landscape elements representing the wilderness along the road between Armenia and Iran divide the composition, such as the leafy maple that visually separates the lovers, and the sparse vegetation surrounding the pool. Shirin’s clothing and crown are placed on the ground near the water’s edge, while her bow and quiver hang in a branch of the tree – details that correspond closely with the narrative. In another example from the British Library (Or. 2265, f.53v) attributed to Bihzad’s pupil Sultan Muhammad and created in the kitab khana of Shah Tahmasp between 1539 and 1543, the arrangement of the characters in the bathing scene is similar – demonstrating that a new composition was established that placed Khusrau on a hilltop, gazing down at Shirin in the pool. This is emulated in a folio of the same scene from a Khamsa manuscript at the Bodleian Library dated 1549 (MS. Pers., c.42, fol. 42v.). Another major alteration from pre-Safavid paintings of this scene resides in Khusrau’s headwear. Rather than wearing the jewelled crown of Sasanian kings, he is depicted in the taj Safavi, a beehive-shaped white turban wound in twelve folds over a cap with a red baton, symbolizing the Twelver Shi’a beliefs of the Safavid dynasty. The taj was granted by the sovereign and is seen adorned with one or two plumes at the right side, indicating high status at the court, worn by royalty and high-ranking courtiers until the end of Tahmasp’s reign in 1576. This important material emblem of dynastic identity is perhaps the most important change in the composition of the scene, as it firmly connects the Safavid rulers with those of Iran’s past and is worn by Khusrau in fig. 2.1 as well as the other two Safavid examples referenced above. The bathing scene is the subject of three different designs produced in silk velvet, all approximately dated by curators as having been produced between 1550 and 1600 and attributed to Safavid Iran (figs 2.2 through 2.5). The main elements depicted in manuscript paintings reappear in these narrative silks featuring the scene, even including the placement of Shirin’s royal robes and crown. Of the three designs featuring Khusrau and Shirin executed in velvet, two fragments of the same naqsheh are unsigned and do not employ metal threads (figs 1.2 and 2.2). 33 The gesture of holding the index finger to one’s mouth (or biting the finger) was not incorporated in all examples of this scene; in the aforementioned Muzaffarid folio in the Keir Collection, Khusrau holds a pail in his left hand, while holding out his right hand to Shirin. Although a thorough study of this gesture and its first appearance in painting is beyond the scope of this study, it seems to have been well established by the sixteenth century. For another Safavid painting depicting Khusrau making the same gesture, see the Khamsa of Nizami at the British Museum (OR. 2265), f.53v; reproduced in Welch, Persian Painting, 82, pl. 25.

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Figure 2.2: Textile fragment depicting Khusrau and Shirin. Attributed to mid-sixteenth century, Safavid Iran. Silk; cut velvet. L: 15 3/8 in. (39 cm), W: 6 1/2 in. (16.5 cm). The Metropolitan Museum of Art (1978.60). Purchase, Seley Foundation Inc., Schimmel Foundation Inc., Ruth Blumka and Charles D. Kelekian Gifts, and Rogers Fund, 1978.

This velvet featuring Khusrau and Shirin, which may have been one garment or length cut into small pieces and sold to various collectors, is not executed with labour-intensive voiding, but features an intricate design style with the black outlining of figures characteristic of painted examples. The small extant fragments, one at the Textile

Dressed as King, Lover and Beloved: Khusr au and Shirin 

Museum (3.220), two at the Cleveland Museum of Art (fig. 1.2; also 1944.499a) and one at the Metropolitan Museum (fig. 2.2), depict the standard composition of a seated Shirin in a pool edged by vegetation, clothing placed upon a nearby branch. The back half of Shabdiz, Shirin’s prized black horse, is visible in the Metropolitan Museum fragment (fig. 2.2). Only the crowned head of Khusrau is visible in one fragment (fig. 1.2) but is recognizable by the index finger of his right hand held to his mouth – mimicking closely the expression that appears frequently in narrative paintings of the scene. However, unlike painted figures from Tahmasp-era painting, the silk Khusrau is missing his taj Safavi. Other sixteenth-century figural silks attributed to Safavid Iran depict men displaying the taj Safavi, indicating that it was customary to include this emblematic headwear in the naqsheh for mid-sixteenth-century luxury velvets.34 However, in these velvet fragments, Khusrau wears a red crown of uncertain dynastic origin (fig. 1.2). Is the naqshband returning the character to his own time as a Sasanian king by removing the taj Safavi and replacing it with a jewelled crown?35 Or is the taj removed for political reasons, to symbolize a break with Twelver Shi’a beliefs? If the velvet is produced during the mid-sixteenth century – in the middle of Tahmasp’s 52-year reign – why has the material emblem of the dynasty’s power been removed? A few possibilities exist here that explain the absence of the taj Safavi: the first is that the painters and the textile designers were not, in fact, working in tandem during the Tahmasp period, when the taj was regularly depicted in paintings. Another possibility is that the taj Safavi is only displayed in royal commissions, which would further support the hypothesis that velvets woven without the inclusion of precious metals were produced by high-end independent workshops. The final possibility is that the dating is incorrect; rather than a mid-sixteenth-century date, perhaps these silks were produced after the end of Tahmasp’s reign in 1576, and most likely after 1587, when ‘Abbas began stabilizing the Safavid economy following the economic ruin brought by the brief reigns of Isma’il II (r. 1576-1577) and Muhammad Khudabanda (r. 1578-1587).36 A more costly example that could potentially represent royal patronage employs metal-wrapped threads and voiding but is unsigned by a naqshband (fig. 2.3). This voided velvet fragment in the Topkapi Museum collections isolates the lovers in 34 Two examples of figural silks with the taj Safavi are in the collection of the Metropolitan Museum: a velvet scene depicting falconry (52.20.11) and a lampas-woven ‘prisoner’ silk depicting a courtier taking Georgian prisoners (52.20.12). 35 Although this crown does not entirely resemble any Sasanian crown researched for this comparison, it is somewhat similar to the crown of Shapur II (r. 310-379 CE) depicted in a gilded silver bust, ‘Head of a King,’ at the Metropolitan Museum (65.126). 36 For a summary of the politics that transpired between the reigns of Tahmasp and ‘Abbas I (1576-1587), see Canby, Shah ‘Abbas, 16.

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Figure 2.3: Textile fragment depicting Khusrau and Shirin. Attributed to mid-sixteenth century, Safavid Iran. Silk, with metal threads; cut and voided velvet. L: 15 15/16 in. (40.5 cm), W: 10 in. (25.3 cm). Topkapi Saray Museum (no. 13/1697). © The Presidency of the Republic of Turkey, the Directorate of National Palaces Administration.

Dressed as King, Lover and Beloved: Khusr au and Shirin 

polylobed medallions framed by an ogival floral lattice. Faithful to the painted compositions, Shirin sits in a shimmering pool, whose effect is achieved by metalwrapped threads in the voided (non-pile) area acting as a supplementary weft. The background of each medallion alternates colour: butter yellow, persimmon orange, ruby red and apricot. As depicted in the paintings, Shirin lifts her hands to wash her hair, which hangs down in two plaits over her nude upper body, while her bottom half is covered by cloths whose colours alternate sky blue, beige and persimmon in each horizontal and vertical row. Shirin’s clothes hang on a branch in a nearby flowering tree, but there is no sign of her horse, Shabdiz. Framed within alternating medallions, Khusrau sits upon his gracefully trotting steed with the index finger of his right hand is in his mouth, expressing the same gesture of surprise seen in corresponding paintings and silks (see figs 2.1 and 2.2). He holds the reigns of the horse in his left hand; the whole figural scene is gracefully outlined with a thin dark line, allowing details such as his facial expression and the draped fabric of his pants. The layout of the whole fragment is arranged as a brick repeat: each row shifts its respective medallions horizontally one-half width of the repeat unit, then drops down one length of the repeat unit. The figures of Khusrau and Shirin face the same direction in each medallion, indicating that reflection (mirroring along the vertical axis) was, again, not employed in the design layout.37 The final Khusrau and Shirin velvet incorporates precious metal threads, voiding and the signature of Ghiyath (figs 2.4 and 2.5), employing much of the iconography in the other velvet designs. Similar to the Topkapi velvet (fig. 2.3), the voiding in this textile is cleverly employed: the naqshband has used a supplemental weft of metal foil on a satin foundation to create a shimmering pool in which Shirin is seated. The bathing princess, the leafy maples and the lush vegetation at the edge of the pool are all executed in pile velvet creating a three-dimensional effect on the surface of the cloth. In this layout, the figure of Khusrau is depicted directly above and below Shirin, rather than in a diagonal relationship to her, probably due to the loom width and the scale of the figures. Similar to the other velvets depicting the bathing scene, the main design elements are enhanced with a thin black line, resembling Tabriz-style figural painting (fig. 2.1).38 Twin cypress trees alternate with a leafy maple, onto which Shirin has hung her clothing and crown, adding to the linearity of the design.39 There are three extant 37 For colour reproductions of this velvet depicting Khusrau and Shirin, see Thompson, ‘Safavid Carpets and Textiles,’ fig. 12.5; and Necipoğlu, ‘Early Modern Floral,’ fig. 11.3 c. To the best of my knowledge, the Topkapi fragment of this velvet textile design is the only extant example. 38 Upon close examination of high-resolution images of f ig. 2.5 (K.1.2014.44), the black outline of Khusrau’s face and crown are visible where the pile has worn away. 39 Due to the arrangement of the motifs, the technical repeat unit is considerably larger than other designs depicting Khusrau and Shirin, measuring approximately 112.5 cm (44.25 in.) x 34 cm (13.5 in.).

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Figure 2.4: Textile fragment depicting Khusrau and Shirin. Attributed to ca. 1600, Safavid Iran. Silk, with metal threads; cut and voided velvet. L: 28 1/4 in. (71.76 cm), W: 21 3/4 in. (55.25 cm). The Keir Collection of Islamic Art on loan to the Dallas Museum of Art (K.1.2014.1337).

Dressed as King, Lover and Beloved: Khusr au and Shirin 

fragments of this silk velvet cut into lobed medallions, one residing at the Textile Museum in Washington, DC, (3.318) and two from the Keir Collection currently on loan to the Dallas Museum of Art, with a fourth fragment fashioned in an oblong semi-circle at the Montreal Museum of Fine Art (950.51.Dt.20).40 All extant fragments have been identified as having been used as royal tent decorations and dated to the sixteenth century. 41 The repeat for this textile has also been reconstructed by Milton Sonday. 42 The designer’s signature is subtly incorporated on the saddle of Shabdiz, Shirin’s steed, who looks back at Khusrau as he approaches on horseback. It is this final velvet design that incorporates the signature in the weaving itself, integral with the structure of the fabric. The signature, ‫‘( عمل غیاث‬Work of Ghiyath,’ transliteration Amal-e Ghiyath), appears as a design element in the saddle of Shirin’s horse (fig. 2.5; digital illustration, fig. 2.6).43 The signature appeared on at least seven silk textiles attributed to the same period, inspiring scholars to research the name appearing on these luxury silks. However, an important point not remarked upon in previous scholarship pertains to the signature itself, which is woven backwards in the fragment (fig. 2.5). Since in Sonday’s reconstruction no point repeat employed, this means that either the naqsheh was designed this way intentionally, or that the naqsheh was tied to the drawloom harness mechanism in reverse, which created mirroring of the text (see figs 2.5 and 2.6). Safavid velvets are pile fabrics, which feature a continuous or non-continuous pile (voiding), as well as a foundation fabric. The pile is created during the weaving 40 The velvet medallion signed by Ghiyath depicting the bathing scene of Khusrau and Shirin has been also published in Bier, Woven from the Soul, Spun from the Heart, 192, cat. no. 29; two lobed medallions in the Keir Collection have been published in Spuhler, Islamic Carpets and Textiles in the Keir Collection, pl. 94 and pl. 95. The oblong fragment in the Montreal Museum of Fine Art was published in Salam-Liebich, ‘A Little Known Collection of Islamic Art,’ 380-383; also see Salam-Liebich, ‘Masterpieces of Persian Art,’ 25. 41 The tradition of royal tents decorated with precious luxury silks is depicted in paintings from Safavid Iran as early as the mid-sixteenth century, and Mughal India in the late sixteenth and early seventeenth centuries. Additionally, the diplomatic exchange in 1576 of an imperial tent decorated with jewels from the court of Shah Tahmasp (r. 1524-1576) to Sultan Murad III (r. 1574-1595) led to the Ottoman acquisition of such fine textiles. Though the tent no longer exists in the Topkapi holdings, the exchange was depicted in an Ottoman painting in the Šāhanšāh-nāma in 1581 (Istanbul University Library, no. F1404). The painting does not illustrate the details of the tent cloth, but instead depicts the construction of the tent itself. For more information, see Tanındı, ‘Topkapi Palace.’ 42 For a reconstruction of this design, see Sonday, ‘Patterns and Weaves,’ 67, fig. 7. 43 Though works by less renowned artists remained unsigned, it was becoming common by the sixteenth century in Iran for venerated artists to sign their works with their first name preceded by amal (‘work of’). For a well-known example in painting, see ‘The Seduction of Yusuf by Zulaykha’ by Bihzad, ca. 1488, General Egyptian Book Organizaiton, Cairo (Adab Farsi 908); also reproduced in Bahari, Bihzad, 109, fig. 52.

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Figure 2.5: Textile fragment depicting Khusrau and Shirin, with the signature ‘Work of Ghiyath.’ ca. 1600, Safavid Iran. Silk with metal threads; cut and voided velvet. L: 24 3/4 in. (62.87 cm), W: 18 3/8 in. (46.67 cm). The Keir Collection of Islamic Art on loan to the Dallas Museum of Art (K.1.2014.44).

Figure 2.6: Digital drawing of Ghiyath’s signature on fig. 2.5, mirrored to show proper direction of the script. © 2022 Nazanin Hedayat Munroe.

Dressed as King, Lover and Beloved: Khusr au and Shirin 

Figure 2.7: Textile fragment depicting Khusrau and Shirin. Attributed to seventeenth century, Safavid Iran. Silk; double cloth. L: 8 1/4 in. (20.96 cm), W: 10 3/4 in. (27.31 cm). Yale University Art Gallery (1951.51.82). Hobart and Edward Small Moore Memorial Collection. Gift of Mrs William H. Moore.

process by inserting a metal rod, creating loops in the warp threads as the fabric is being woven. After a few rows of weft have been woven, the looped threads across the top of the rod are sheared, creating the pile. Occasionally supplemental warps (also referenced as substitute warps) are utilized in addition to the two main warps, a device used to increase the number of colours in the design (as in fig. 2.3, in which supplemental warps create alternating colours in the medallions and Shirin’s waistcloth). A final design in the group of Khamsa silks featuring Khusrau and Shirin is woven as double cloth. The small silk polychromatic fragment resides in the collection at the Yale University Art Gallery (fig. 2.7), depicting the two protagonists in the bathing scene. Arranged in vertical registers, the figural elements of the design appear as cream-coloured silhouettes on alternating monochromatic grounds in ruby red, ochre yellow and sea green. The registers are separated by pale yellow borders with floral sprigs. Khusrau rides to Armenia on horseback, accompanied here by a servant; Shirin is seated cross-legged in a circular pool washing her hair, her horse grazing nearby in a floriated landscape.

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This silk also includes verses by an unidentified poet. The lovers are separated by green vertical registers with a brief repeating poetic phrase in Nasta’liq calligraphy, with diacritical marks decoratively overlapping; this makes the text difficult to read and translate. A translation by T. Cuyler Young published in 1953 reads: ‘When Khusrau to that spring without warning arrived/His conjoining flower from Fortune’s limb blossomed forth.’44 Although the Young translation correlates with Nizami’s narrative, it does not seem to be accurate. The approximate Persian transliteration is: Az zelash shad va dowlatmand chon khusravan, which may be more accurately translated: ‘In the shadow [of the beloved], [I am] happy and fortunate because I am [like a] king,’ a play on the name Khusrau (Persian for ‘king’). 45 Although the scene is familiar, this fragment does not seem to fit into any aforementioned grouping. Thus far, the scholarly consensus is that double cloths were probably not produced in a royal workshop, despite the tarnished foil indicating the use of precious metal in some examples (figs 1.1 and 3.4). If the Khusrau and Shirin double cloth was produced in an independent workshop, it may have been produced independently from the others in this group (figs 1.1, 3.4 and 3.5), as it does not match the colour scheme or iconography of these red and white silks. Dated to the seventeenth century, this design may have been produced later that the other Khamsa silks produced in this weave structure. None of the double cloths include signatures or other markings to link them together, making it difficult to verify if the shared structure indicates manufacture in the same workshop. The figures, though recognizable, are crudely rendered in comparison to the high-end velvets depicting the scene, supporting the theory that this type of silk would have been produced for consumers purchasing textiles for apparel at a lower price point.

The Gaze and the Body: States of Dress and Undress The bathing scene is the only image of the two main characters from the cycle of illustration in Nizami’s ‘Khusrau and Shirin’ that appears on loom-woven textiles in this era. 46 The motivation for the patron and/or artist to choose this scene from the cycle of illustration over others from the narrative – such as Shirin admiring the portrait of Khusrau or the wedding scene, both of which were illustrated in fifteenth- and sixteenth-century manuscripts – leads to the hypothesis that the allure of a half-nude Shirin is part of the appeal. 44 The Persian language poet of this brief phrase is unidentified. For the 1953 translation, see Rowe, ‘Persian Textiles,’ 2, n. 3. 45 Revised translation by the author, with Dr G. Malek Hedayat. 46 There is one other scene that may be attributed to Nizami’s ‘Khusrau and Shirin’ (fig. 3.4) but this only features Shirin with Farhad. This alternate scene will be discussed in Chapter 3.

Dressed as King, Lover and Beloved: Khusr au and Shirin 

Islamic culture strongly forbids public nudity of any kind, and especially requires complete covering of the hair and body for women. However, the depiction of Shirin circumvents shari’a (‘Islamic law’), perhaps owing to her identity as a Christian. The story takes place in Iran during the reign of Khusrau concurrent with the founding of Islam, but prior to the mid-seventh-century Islamic conquest, when Iran was still a predominantly Zoroastrian society. This seems to give artists license to depict Shirin in her uncovered state, making this erotic moment in the story a standard part of the cycle of illustration for Nizami’s Khamsa. Arguably, her state of undress should not be misconstrued by the viewer as a reflection on her character, but rather as a window into her innermost self. Bathing is a quintessentially private activity, and its depiction invites the viewer into the secret world of the character. In the narrative, Shirin believes that she is alone when she disrobes, and once she spots Khusrau her actions reflect her innate modesty. Therefore, if she is unaware of the gaze of her admirer – and subsequently, of the viewer – her nudity retains its innocence. However, the context of the subject matter changes with the medium. This scene, when rendered as a painting versus a silk textile, brings forth considerations of private and public viewing. Gazing upon a singular image of the half-nude lover as a painting in a book is a different experience than viewing a repeated pattern of Shirin bathing on a fine luxury silk. Pictorial textiles are generally not created for private consumption, as manuscripts are, but rather intended to make an impression upon any viewer encountering the cloth. From this perspective, the silks depicting this scene are far more scandalous that the paintings: Shirin’s exposed body is depicted not once, but multiple times through the repeat pattern created on the loom. Particularly when fashioned into outer clothing, figural silks are a tool for self-expression and identity, allowing wearers to create a connection between themselves and the characters depicted on the outer garment for the viewer.47 This connection is heightened by the realism of the rendering in silk: it is not merely the suggestion of a human figure, it is a mimetic representation that evokes an emotional response, as it becomes a mirror of reality. Nizami himself was aware of the power of mimesis in portraiture. In Priscilla Soucek’s classic essay ‘Nizami on Painters and Painting,’ she highlights the significance of the moment when Shirin sees a realistic portrait of Khusrau rendered by Shahpur and falls in love with the image. This moment represents two Sufi principles embodied by Nizami’s poetry: the power of mimetic art as a reflection of the overwhelming beauty of the divine realm, causing the princess to lose her senses; and the transformation of her soul when she experiences ‘ishq, which he 47 The relationship between self-expression and garments made from figural silks is expanded upon in my master’s thesis: Shenasa [now Munroe], ‘Donning the Cloak,’ ‘Chapter 1: Dervish Silk,’ 13-28.

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references throughout the Khamsa as an alchemical phenomenon. When Shirin’s handmaidens witness her response to the portrait, they destroy it, thinking she has been possessed by evil spirits; Shahpur makes two more portraits, the second of which is also destroyed. When Shirin gazes upon the prince’s likeness for a third time, she is spurred to action, indicating that the transformation of her soul through ‘ishq is complete. 48 In ‘The Scrutinizing Gaze in the Aesthetics of Islamic Visual Cultures: Sight, Insight, and Desire,’ Gülru Necipoğlu contemplates the gaze in light of restrictions placed on mimetic art forms in the Islamic world. Comparing the science of optics and the more poetic views embodied in mystic belief, she considers several themes, including ‘the embodiment of vision through emotional states and desire’ and ‘the cognitive capacity of sight to produce insight.’49 Necipoğlu includes Nizami’s Khamsa as one of the most poignant examples of this phenomenon.50 Mimetic images ‘aspired to mirror the insightful gaze’; when gazing upon a wondrous image, optical vision of the outer world is equated to inner spiritual vision.51 Paintings require a discerning gaze, and by extension, figural images rendered as textiles are also created and displayed in consideration of the gaze. Although these connections certainly bolster the connotation of Khamsa figural silk garments as expressions of the internal connection with royal lover and beloved, the fragments depicting this scene seem to have been utilized in more than one context. The medallion-shaped fragments with the signature of Ghiyath (figs 2.4 and 2.5) complicate the argument for a clear delineation regarding the use of these silks as apparel textiles. According to museum provenance, they were used for royal tent decoration rather than for clothing; however, in lieu of being designed or woven to shape, these textiles were loom-woven as yardage and later fashioned into medallions displayed on tent walls.52 Based on extant examples of intact figural silk garments, these were more likely to have been created as high-end apparel textiles fashioned into overgarments known as balapush.53 The velvet fragments woven without metal threads are supple (figs 1.2 and 2.2), offering a sumptuous 48 Nizami, in Chelkowski, Mirror of the Invisible World, 24. 49 Necipoğlu, ‘The Scrutinizing Gaze,’ 23. 50 Soucek, ‘Nizami on Painters and Painting.’ 51 Necipoğlu, ‘The Scrutinizing Gaze,’ 46. 52 McWilliams in Bier, Woven from the Soul, Spun from the Heart, 192, cat. no. 29. McWilliams groups the Textile Museum fragment of this design (3.318) with other silks in the Sanguszko group, which includes several extant figural silks fashioned into medallions used as royal tent decoration. For other examples, cited as 2 of approximately 30 pieces from the same group, see Ekhtiar et al., Masterpieces from the Islamic Art Department at the Metropolitan Museum of Art, 244-245, cat. no. 168. 53 For an example, see the figural silk lampas balapush (‘overgarment’) in the collection of the State Armoury Museum, Moscow (inv. no. 25668). For a colour reproduction and discussion of this garment, see Scarce, ‘Through a Glass Darkly?,’ cat. no. 13.2. The depiction of this type of balapush is also seen in

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haptic experience when worn and touched. Also providing life to the images, the metal-thread fragment (fig. 2.3) presents the characters with three-dimensionality due to the voiding and pile, creating a soft shimmer and colour changes that would invite movement of the body, rather than a static display on a tent wall. In practical terms, this may be an example of apparel-weight fabrics being used as furnishings to satisfy the preference of the end user, even if they were not intended as such. In their pristine state, Khamsa silks must have been impressive for both their sumptuous materials and mimetic figural rendering. Considering the nudity of the female character and its significance in the narrative, this type of textile invites physical interaction, but the context also shifts depending on whether Khamsa silks were worn by men or women. Does a male garment depicting Khusrau and Shirin connect the identity of the wearer with the male protagonist as he enjoys this voyeuristic moment in the story, and a female viewer with the female protagonist? If the wearer is a woman, does she become Shirin in her moment of vulnerability and innocence before her love affair begins? Were Khamsa silks displaying this tale intended for women to wear in the boudoir, enticing their husbands or lovers to view them as if for the first time? Does the viewer identify with either character, or is the viewer simply spying on this personal moment between the two lovers woven into cloth? Although there are no published paintings clearly depicting Khamsa silks, and few painted examples of women wearing figural silks in the Safavid era, the knowledge of garments donned in the privacy of one’s home may not have been documented in its time, or if so, is undiscovered by scholars to the present day. Ultimately, this chapter has contemplated the relationship between poetry, paintings and silks depicting Nizami’s ‘Khusrau and Shirin.’ The scene of Khusrau as he stumbles upon on Shirin bathing in the stream is one of a few events within the narrative that became incorporated into the cycle of illustration in Persian painting. Deviating slightly from Nizami’s narrative, the central character of Shirin is provided a modesty cloth on her lower half. In early Safavid Khamsa paintings and especially during the reign of Tahmasp (1524-1576), Khusrau is rendered with the Twelver Shi’a taj Safavi, but in silks this headwear is absent and he wears a crown, indicating one of several possible explanations. These silks may have a production date after 1576, later than the current estimation of ca. 1550. The Khusrau and Shirin silks may have a manufacturing location outside of Safavid rule, where local rulers and populations would not identify themselves with Twelver Shi’a beliefs. It is also possible that sumptuary laws prohibited even the display of the taj Safavi by those who had not been granted its use, strengthening the hypothesis that these silks may have been woven by independent workshops. Additionally, the naqshbandan paintings during the late medieval Timurid era, although no garments from this time period seem to have survived.

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may not have been consulting contemporary Safavid painting as a design source. Although the silks incorporate the iconography canonized in manuscript painting, such as compositional relationship between the characters and details in vegetal rendering, they are not replicas of their painted counterparts. In consideration of the gaze, paintings and silks present different viewing opportunities and implications to identify as king, lover and beloved.

Works Cited Baum, Wilhelm. Shirin: Christian-Queen-Myth of Love: A Woman of Late Antiquity – Historical Reality and Literary Effect. Piscataway, NJ: Gorgias Press, 2004. Bier, Carol, ed. Woven from the Soul, Spun from the Heart: Textile Arts of Safavid and Qajar Iran, 16th-19th Centuries. Washington, DC: The Textile Museum, 1987. Brend, Barbara. ‘Akbar’s “Khamsah” of Amīr Khusrau Dihlavī: A Reconstruction of the Cycle of Illustration.’ Artibus Asiae 49, no. 3/4 (1988): 281-315. Brend, Barbara. The Emperor Akbar’s Khamsa of Niẓāmī. London: The British Library, 1995. Brend, Barbara. ‘A Khamsah with Illustrations Ascribed to the Painter Bihzad (Add. MS 25900).’ British Library Asian and African Studies Blog, July 14, 2014. https://blogs.bl.uk/ asian-and-african/2014/07/a-khamsah-ascribed-to-the-painter-bihzad-add-25900.html Brend, Barbara. Perspectives on Persian Painting: Illustrations to Amir Khusrau’s Khamsah. London and New York: Routledge Curzon, 2003. Canby, Sheila R. Persian Painting. London: Trustees of the British Museum by the British Museum Press, 1993. Canby, Sheila R. Shah ‘Abbas: The Remaking of Iran. London: British Museum Press, 2009. Canby, Sheila R. ‘The World of the Early Safavids: Shah Tahmasp at Qazvin.’ In Hunt for Paradise: Court Arts of Safavid Iran, ed. Jon Thompson and Sheila Canby, 17-25. Milan: Skira, 2003. Chelkowski, Peter J. Mirror of the Invisible World. New York: The Metropolitan Museum of Art, 1975. Ekhtiar, Maryam, Priscilla P. Soucek, Sheila R. Canby and Navina Najat Haidar, eds. Masterpieces from the Department of Islamic Art in the Metropolitan Museum of Art. New York: The Metropolitan Museum of Art, 2011. Ferdowsi, Abolqasem. Shahnameh: The Persian Book of Kings. Translated by Dick Davis. Washington, DC: Penguin Books, 1997. Lentz, Thomas W., and Glenn D Lowry. Timur and the Princely Vision: Persian Art and Culture in the Fifteenth Century. Los Angeles, CA: Los Angeles County Museum of Art, 1989. Lornejad, Siavash, and Ali Doostzadeh. On the Modern Politicization of the Persian Poet Nezami Ganjavi. Digital version edited by Victoria Arakelova. Yerevan: Caucasian Centre for Iranian Studies, 2012.

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Martin, F.R. The Nizāmī Ms. from the Library of the Shah of Persia: Now in the Metropolitan Museum of Art. Vienna: Adolph Holzhausen, 1910. Necipoğlu, Gülru. ‘Early Modern Floral: The Agency of Ornament in Ottoman and Safavid Visual Cultures.’ In Histories of Ornament, ed. Gülru Necipoğlu and Alina Payne, 132-155. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 2016. Necipoğlu, Gülru. ‘The Scrutinizing Gaze in the Aesthetics of Islamic Visual Cultures: Sight, Insight, and Desire.’ Muqarnas 32 (2015): 23-61. Nizami Ganjavi. The Story of Layla and Majnun. Translated by Rudolph Gelpke. New Lebanon: Omega Publications, 1997. Parrello, Domenico. ‘Ḵamsa of Neẓāmī.’ In Encyclopædia Iranica, online edition. Last updated: November 10, 2010. https://iranicaonline.org/articles/kamsa-of-nezami Qādī Aḥmad, Son of Mīr Munshī. Calligraphers and Painters (circa A.H. 1015/A.D. 1606). Translated by Victor Minorsky. Washington, DC: Freer Gallery of Art, 1959. Rowe, Margaret T.J. ‘Persian Textiles.’ Bulletin of the Associates in Fine Arts at Yale 20, no. 2 (1953): 1-4. Salam-Liebich, Hayat. ‘A Little Known Collection of Islamic Art.’ Apollo 103 (1976): 380-383. Salam-Liebich, Hayat. ‘Masterpieces of Persian Art from the Montreal Museum of Fine Arts Collection.’ Iranian Studies 25, no. 1/2 (1992): 19-29. Scarce, Jennifer. ‘Through a Glass Darkly? Glimpses of Safavid Fashions of the Sixteenth Century.’ In Hunt for Paradise: Court Arts in Safavid Iran 1501-1576, ed. Jon Thompson and Sheila Canby, 319-326. Milan: Skira, 2003. Shenasa, Nazanin Hedayat [now known as Nazanin Hedayat Munroe]. ‘Donning the Cloak: Safavid Figural Silks and the Display of Identity.’ Master’s thesis, San Jose State University, 2007. http://scholarworks.sjsu.edu/etd_theses/3421 Simpson, Marianna Shreve. ‘The Making of Manuscripts and the Workings of the KitabKhana in Safavid Iran.’ Studies in the History of Art 38 (1993): 104-121. Sonday, Milton. ‘Patterns and Weaves: Safavid Lampas and Velvet.’ In Woven from the Soul, Spun from the Heart: Textile Arts of Safavid and Qajar Iran, 16th-19th Centuries, ed. Carol Bier, 57-83. Washington, DC: The Textile Museum, 1987. Soucek, Priscilla. ‘Nizami on Painters and Painting.’ In Islamic Art in the Metropolitan Museum of Art, ed. Richard Ettinghausen, 9-21. New York: The Metropolitan Museum of Art, 1972. Tadhkirat al-Muluk: A Manual of Safavid Administration. Translated by Vladimir Minorsky. Cambridge: W. Heffer and Sons, 1943. Tanındı, Zeren. ‘Topkapi Palace.’ In Encyclopædia Iranica, online edition. Last updated: April 7, 2008. http://www.iranicaonline.org/articles/topkapi-palace Thompson, Jon. ‘Safavid Carpets and Textiles.’ In Hunt for Paradise: Court Arts in Safavid Iran 1501-1576, ed. Jon Thompson and Sheila Canby, 271-318. Milan: Skira, 2003. Welch, Stuart Cary. Persian Painting. New York: Braziller, 1996.

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Weaving Stories, Weaving Self: Layla and Majnun as Sufi Icons Abstract Silks depicting Layla and Majnun are examined with the corresponding narrative in the Khamsa of Nizami Ganjavi. The tale is summarized and analyzed as an allegory of the Sufi concept of the evolution of humankind through love, as Majnun is transformed by Nizami from a love-struck madman into the prototype for Sufi mystic practice. Two silk designs are signed by Ghiyath al-Din illustrating Layla visiting Majnun in the wilderness, a scene not found in Nizami’s Khamsa. The concept of javab-gui (‘literary response’) is presented as the foundation of Persian epic poetry. Amir Khusrau (d. 1325), the Sufi Turco-Indian poet laureate of Delhi, is discussed as the author upon whose Khamsa the scenes are derived. The relationship between poetry and textile weaving is analyzed through passages from Persian poetry. Keywords: Work of Ghiyath, Qays ibn al-Mulawwah, Amir Khusrau Dihlavi, Bihzad painting, Sanwalah painting, Chishti Sufi

The relationships between Nizami’s poetic narrative, manuscript painting and textile design present more inconsistencies when taking a close look at the other set of Khamsa lovers, Layla and Majnun. Unlike the close comparison to illustrations from Nizami’s ‘Khusrau and Shirin,’ which retain the basic elements of the narrative in each rendition of the design, silk textiles depicting the characters Layla and Majnun differ from illustrations of Nizami’s text and do not retain the same level of iconographic consistency as a group. In fact, they do not seem to be corresponding to the same Khamsa, presenting new interpretations of identity, patronage and provenance for this sub-group of silks. This chapter will compare poetry and paintings of Layla and Majnun in Nizami’s original to the Khamsa composed as javab-gui by the late-thirteenth-century poet Amir Khusrau Dihlavi in India, who altered the narrative of love and separation as he traversed his own Sufi path. Careful examination of the iconography in painting and silks leads to new

Munroe, N.H., Sufi Lovers, Safavid Silks and Early Modern Identity. Amsterdam: Amsterdam University Press, 2023 doi 10.5117/9789463721738_ch03

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conclusions in the potential provenance of silks depicting the lovers. The chapter culminates in a study of the poetry woven into the silks, and poetic metaphors of weavers and textile-making. The legend of Layla and Majnun is dated as early as the seventh century CE and originates from the northern Arabian Peninsula.1 Originally, the legend was referenced in Arabic as ‘Majnun Layla’ (‘The madman of Layla’), emphasizing Majnun’s separation from Layla as the cause of his insanity. The tale of the young lovelorn poet, who quitted society to wander in the wilderness and recite eloquent poetry for his beloved, was disseminated by the rawi (‘storyteller’) at the Arab court and included in an anthology of Ibn Qutayba (d. 889) in the ninth century.2 The goal of the early Arabic versions was not necessarily to produce a narrative, but to record and preserve the poems composed by Qays ibn al-Mulawwah, the real-life Majnun.3 It was Nizami who would transform the legend into a mystical tale of romantic love as a conduit for spiritual revelation. Nizami’s epic poem recounting the Bedouin lovers was based on a compilation of sources, from popular lore to the original poetry believed to have been composed by Qays (Majnun). 4 Commissioned by the Seljuk governor Akhsitan Shirvan Shah and completed in 1188, the legend of Layla and Majnun was already in the public consciousness at the time of Nizami’s composition of his epic poem. As with the oral and written precedents that provided the foundation for ‘Khusrau and Shirin,’ Nizami’s ‘Layla and Majnun’ is built upon the existing stories. Nizami created a literary response to his predecessors, which included renditions by tenth-century poets Rudaki and Rabia Balkhi, and eleventh-century poets Manuchehri and Fakhruddin Gorgani.5 However, Nizami was the first Persian-language poet to create an epic narrative from the disconnected elements of the original sources, 1 The term ‘legend’ is defined by Dols in Majnun as ‘an unauthenticated narrative, embroidered with historical material and popularly deemed to be historical’, 320. 2 See Khairullah, Love, Madness and Poetry, 29; also see Dols, Majnun, 322. Dols argues that the Arab rawi focus on the skill of Qays/Majnun as a poet, rather than on any mystical transformation resulting from ‘ishq, whereas Khairallah argues that the mystical elements were present but underdeveloped in early Arab versions of the legend. 3 Nizami Ganjavi, The Story of Layla and Majnun, xi. 4 For a translation of selected poems, see Majnun, Life & Poems. 5 Rudaki (ca. 859-940 CE) is considered the founder of Persian poetry. He was the court poet during the reign of Nasr II (r. 914-943); after he fell out of favour, his work was nearly forgotten, and only approximately 1,000 of his 100,000 couplets remain. His contemporary, Rabia Balkhi, was the first woman recorded to compose poetry in New Persian, and she is referenced by Rudaki in his works. Manuchehri Damghani (ca. 982-1040) was a contemporary of Ferdowsi and a court poet in the Ghaznavid period to Sultan Ma’sud (ca. 1031-1033); Fakhruddin Gorgani (d. ca. 1058) versified the Sasanian tale of two lovers, ‘Vis o Ramin,’ in New Persian. Gorgani’s poem is believed by Dick Davis (the translator of Nezami Ganjavi, Layli and Majnun) to have influenced Nizami’s poetic style for both ‘Khusrau and Shirin’ and ‘Layla and Majnun’; however, Davis notes that Gorgani’s romance is grounded in carnal love, while Nizami’s rendering of his

Weaving Stories, Weaving Self: L ayl a and Ma jnun as Sufi Icons 

codifying the tale for the medieval Persian-speaking world.6 He informs the reader that there is no need to retell famed tales, because they have already been told; but that he will enlighten his readers with his original rendering of the tale, implying the true purpose of javab-gui.7

The Mystical Love Story of Nizami’s ‘Layla and Majnun’ Nizami situates his reader in the Arabian Peninsula during the seventh century, informing his audience that the wealthy chieftain of the Banu Amir has everything he desires, except an heir. He prays for a son and is blessed with a beautiful boy, Qays. All goes well with his upbringing: the boy is handsome, intelligent and wellliked at school, until suddenly he becomes smitten with the beautiful Layla, a girl from another tribe.8 The two youths soon fall into the hapless oblivion of deep love, ignoring the expectation of tribal Arab society to keep their tender feelings obscured from the public eye. Soon, lover and beloved become the object of ridicule, and Layla’s father forbids contact between his daughter and her admirer to save her reputation. Separated from Layla, Qays becomes obsessed with her, singing impromptu love poems about her in public. The obsession grows to the point that the young man sees his beloved in everything, and the world becomes a metaphor of his feelings for Layla. The boy’s tribe encourages his father to seek her hand in marriage and put an end to his longing, but Layla’s father refuses the match, aggravating the situation. Crazed with love, Qays is given the sobriquet Majnun, ‘possessed by jinn’ (‘supernatural spirits’). Majnun becomes crazed with passion and frustration. He grows disillusioned with society, tearing off his fine robes and roaming naked in the desert of Najd. Despite his dishevelled appearance and manner, he continues to compose eloquent love poems, which he sings to himself as he wanders through the desert. As a result of his misery, Majnun has no end of sympathy for other creatures. On two occasions, he sacrifices his few possessions (his fine robes and, later, his horse) to save a deer ensnared in a hunter’s trap, because the black eyes of the deer remind lovers is constructed to evoke a spiritual dimension. See Davis in Nezami Ganjavi, Layli and Majnun, xi, xx and xxiii, respectively. 6 Despite the necessary acceptance of this royal commission, Nizami laments the task of versifying the tale of the Arab lovers. His complaints are included in the introduction for Layla and Majnun; see the Persian text with English translation in Lornejad and Doostzadeh, On the Modern Politicization, 50-56. 7 Ibid., 31-32. Lornejad and Doostzadeh provide the original Persian verse with translation. 8 In the early Arab versions of this tale, Layla and Majnun are both from the Amir tribe; however, in Nizami’s narrative, Layla is from a different tribe, which later goes into battle against the Banu Amir.

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him of Layla. Thereafter, the deer and wild beasts become his companions in the solitude of the wilderness. Contemplating the ideal of Layla increases his love so that he cannot eat or sleep. His only activity is thinking of her and composing his exquisite poetry. Due to his eloquence and the sadness of his story, Majnun has sympathizers who try to help him connect with his beloved, but with little success. His supporters visit Majnun in the wilderness, memorize his poems, and sing them in the town, where they reach Layla covertly; she composes poems in response, written on scraps of paper entrusted to the wind. When these are discovered, they are delivered to her lover by intermediaries. Majnun’s experiences in his wandering reflect his desperation and the need to express his unquenched desire through self-denial. In one episode, Majnun meets an old woman who panhandles in the company of chained madman, referenced as a darvish (‘dervish’). In his love-crazed state, Majnun begs her to free him so he can take his place, claiming that he is already enchained by his devotion. The old woman leads him to Layla’s campsite, where the mere sight of his beloved’s tent triggers a fainting spell. Majnun is tormented by the proximity to Layla, who is still unattainable; he breaks free from his arrangement with the old woman, returning to his solitude in the wilderness. Following this episode, a prince named Nawfal happens upon the emaciated Majnun and offers to help him obtain Layla’s hand in marriage. Nawfal nurses the boy back to health, and when Majnun has regained his senses and his strength, they go together once again to Layla’s father with his proposal. They are refused, and a war ensues between the two factions; after several bloody battles, Majnun abandons the scene, blaming Nawfal for the failure to unite him with his beloved, and weeping for the death of the members of both tribes. He escapes one last time to the desert wilderness, never to return to society. Shortly afterward, Layla is betrothed against her will to a wealthy suitor, Ibn Salam. She remains steadfast in her devotion to Majnun by refusing to consummate the marriage, news that eventually reaches him in the desert. A cruel visitor taunts him, claiming Layla is heard swooning each night in her bridal tent, a lie that renders Majnun unconscious with grief. The scoundrel is softened when he sees the boy’s genuine devotion, and repents immediately, admitting his lie – an example rendered by Nizami of the power of love to convert evil to goodness. After they are separated as schoolchildren, lover and beloved meet again only two times in Nizami’s narrative. Each of their face-to-face encounters takes place near Layla’s camp: the first while Majnun is in chains, led by an old woman, and later in a palm grove, facilitated by an old man. During these meetings, Nizami’s lovers have no physical contact; instead, they are overwhelmed by the presence of the other, and recite poetry to one other from a distance. Majnun never recovers

Weaving Stories, Weaving Self: L ayl a and Ma jnun as Sufi Icons 

from his mad state, refusing nourishment but continuing to recite poems while wandering in the desert surrounded by animals. Layla’s husband dies, and she observes the obligatory two-year mourning period before sending an intermediary to bring the news to Majnun that the legal obstacles to their union have been removed. Subsequently, Layla falls ill; when she is on her death bed, she tells her mother about her deep love for Majnun and requests that her shroud be blood red (instead of the traditional white) as a sign of her martyrdom and suffering.9 Upon hearing news of her passing, Majnun rushes to her grave, where he dies in mourning soon afterwards. The lovers are buried side by side, and their graves become a pilgrimage site. In the coda, a sympathizer dreams that Layla and Majnun are united in paradise, living as a king and queen.

Layla and Majnun in Poetry, Paintings and Silk Designs Unlike the silks depicting Khusrau and Shirin, which closely emulate the storyline in Nizami’s Khamsa, the textiles depicting Layla and Majnun show a departure from the narrative. In two different satin lampas designs signed by Ghiyath al-Din (figs 3.1 and 3.2), Layla visits Majnun in the wilderness while riding in a palanquin atop a camel; however, Nizami’s Layla does not venture into the wilderness. Following the separation of the lovers, two meetings take place between the lovers near Layla’s camp, where Majnun is brought to her by mediators. In the first meeting, the old beggar woman brings Majnun to Layla’s tent in chains, and he recites poetry for her; in the second meeting, an elderly man unites the lovers in a palm grove.10 Neither the mediators or the details of these meetings – the chained Majnun, the tented encampment or the palm grove – are depicted in these silk designs. In figure 3.1, a servant is included leading the camel; Layla is seated inside the palanquin, where Ghiyath has placed his signature. The signature of the designer is written Amal-e Ghiyath (‘Work of Ghiyath’) in Naskhi calligraphy, subtly located in a cartouche on the palanquin directly beneath Layla as she rests her head in her hand.11 Some details from Nizami’s text are still prevalent, such as the wild animals surrounding Majnun. The symbolism of the deer as a proxy or symbol for Layla is 9 The transliteration for the Persian reads ‘Khūn kon kafanam ke man shahīdam/tā bāshad rang-e rūz-e eid-am.’ 10 For the story of Majnun with the beggarwoman, see Nizami Ganjavi, The Story of Layla and Majnun, xxv, 76-79; for the story of the old man who brings Majnun to the palm grove, see pp. xlv, 148-154. 11 Several fragments of the same design are dispersed among the Cooper-Hewitt Smithsonian Design Museum (1902-1-780), the Designmuseum Danmark (B21/1931) and the Museum of Fine Arts Boston (28.17), which has the largest fragment (sized 27 3/16 x 26 3/4 in. [69 x 68 cm]). This final fragment appears to include the full loom width and is cut into a nearly square piece.

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Figure 3.1: Textile fragment depicting Layla and Majnun, with the signature ‘Work of Ghiyath.’ Attributed to sixteenth century, Safavid Iran. Silk, with gilded parchment wrapped around silk core; satin lampas. Silk; cut velvet. L: 25 3/16 in. (64 cm), W: 11 in. (28 cm). Cooper-Hewitt Smithsonian Design Museum (1902-1-780). Gift of John Pierpont Morgan.

Sufi Lovers, Safavid Silk s and Early Modern Identit y

Weaving Stories, Weaving Self: L ayl a and Ma jnun as Sufi Icons 

Figure 3.2: Textile fragment depicting Layla and Majnun, with the signature ‘Work of Ghiyath.’ Attributed to late sixteenth/early seventeenth century, Safavid Iran (Yazd or Isfahan). Silk, metal-wrapped silk; satin lampas. L: 20 1/8 in. (51.08 cm), W: 27 in. (68.55 cm). The Textile Museum, Washington, DC (3.312). Acquired by George Hewitt Myers in 1952.

consistent in each version of the Layla and Majnun silks; in the dark satin lampas signed by Ghiyath (fig. 3.1), Majnun holds the deer in his lap, corresponding with Nizami’s narrative as well as popular Sufi poetic tropes evoking this image. A similar design is also signed Amal-e Ghiyath: a red and gold satin lampas, also depicting Layla venturing to a seated Majnun in the wilderness, in the collections at The Textile Museum (f ig. 3.2). A view of the whole fragment, which includes selvedges, shows the design is executed in a half-brick repeat employing ref lection: Layla’s camel faces right and left in alternating rows, creating visual movement. Majnun is placed at the feet of the camel; he holds his head in his hand, while the deer and other animals are surrounding him, rather than holding the deer in his lap. Layla reaches out to her lover from her palanquin, where the designer has cleverly signed his name in Kuf ic within an eight-pointed star. The f igures are posed differently from Ghiyath’s alternate signed lampas design (f ig. 3.1) and there is no servant or intermediary between the lovers in this design.

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Figure 3.3: Textile fragment depicting Layla and Majnun. Attributed to ca. 1550-1600, Safavid Iran. Silk; cut velvet. L: 17 5/8 in. (44.77 cm), W: 18 1/2 in. (46.99 cm). The Kier Collection of Islamic Art on loan to the Dallas Museum of Art (K.1.2014.1335).

In addition to the lampas silks signed by Ghiyath, there are two unsigned velvets depicting similar scenes of Majnun in the wilderness. A silk velvet fragment from the Keir Collection of Islamic Art (fig. 3.3) shows Majnun reaching out to Layla, who holds a sleeve-covered hand to her mouth in horror at his dishevelled state. Majnun is emaciated, a detail represented by the curved line across his upper body outlining his rib cage. We cannot determine whether there is a deer in Majnun’s lap due to deterioration of the textile; however, there are two deer sitting together peacefully between the couple, perhaps a metaphor of their eventual union in paradise. A docile black panther is perched to the right of Majnun. The fragment

Weaving Stories, Weaving Self: L ayl a and Ma jnun as Sufi Icons 

is badly worn and has lost its pile in areas, but even upon close examination there is no indication of a signature – especially in the palanquin where Ghiyath had signed his other silks. Spuhler, former curator at the Keir Collection, declares this the late-sixteenthcentury product of a royal workshop. Spuhler writes: ‘The fineness of the work and comparison with paintings leave no doubt that this velvet was woven in a court manufacture under Shah ‘Abbas I, or even under Shah Tahmasp.’12 It is understandable that Spuhler would reference the reigns of these two sovereigns, as both monarchs had prolific silk-weaving workshops. However, Tahmasp lost interest in the luxury arts after the 1540s, and the royal coffers of his successor, Muhammad Khudabanda, were notoriously empty by the end of his reign.13 ‘Abbas didn’t take the throne until 1587, and he consolidated profits from the silk industry towards the end of the century. Unlike other silks believed to have been produced in the karkhana-i khass, no metal-wrapped threads are employed. Ultimately, Spuhler’s estimation indicates a broad period of time during which figural silks may have been more likely produced by high-end workshops. The lack of a signature and the use of metal brocading on this otherwise beautifully rendered velvet may support this hypothesis. Within the Khamsa group there are four double cloth-woven examples. Weaving double cloth involves the creation of two pieces of cloth simultaneously, which can remain separate or interlace at intervals. Weaving double cloth is not as labour intensive as velvet, but still requires a high degree of design expertise. In this group of designs, red and white silk warps and wefts are employed, creating areas of solid colour and stripes that outline the figures and setting. Due to the increased number of threads required for double cloth, the small-scale figures measure only a few inches tall. The first example depicts Layla and Majnun in the wilderness, but without her camel or palanquin (fig. 1.1). The lovers are reaching out for one another, seated closer to each other than in any of the other designs. The figures are overwhelmed by the oversized foliage in the background. Majnun holds a deer in his lap while he perches on a jagged rock. Two additional fragments of this design reside at the Cooper-Hewitt Smithsonian Design Museum (1902-1-379) and the Victoria and Albert Museum (VAM) in London (916-1897). These two pieces are mirror images of one another, straight along one edge and cut into triangular shapes with rounded edges. Both fragments appear to have been stitched at the edges, and the Cooper-Hewitt piece includes what appears to be a selvedge on one side, but the VAM fragment has an additional piece attached to form the triangular edge. Upon analysis, these 12 Spuhler, Islamic Carpets and Textiles in the Keir Collection, 166. 13 Canby, Shah ‘Abbas, 17.

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two fragments appear to have been part of a gored garment, perhaps a tailored jacket for women flaring slightly from the waist to hips, popular in the mid- to late seventeenth century.14 The double cloth subgroup presents additional scenes or stories aside from the main protagonists. Another double cloth, possibly produced by the same workshop, depicts the romance within a romance of Shirin and Farhad (fig. 3.4).15 The largest fragment of this design resides at The Metropolitan Museum and is one of three designs in the Khamsa group featuring a compartmentalized layout. Arranged in vertical registers, the lovers are placed in separate frames alternating with cypress trees flanked by male figures in Safavid dress.16 Farhad is toiling beside the channel he has carved for Shirin’s milk, closely resembling the manuscript painting in the Metropolitan Museum Khamsa illustrating this scene (13.228.7.5). Shirin is mounted on horseback. Departing from Nizami’s narrative, the designer has depicted fish in the channel, as if it were a running stream of water, rather than milk. The depiction may also reference the narratives written by later poets substituting Khusrau with Farhad as the main protagonist, such as the fourteenth-century Farhadnama of Aref-i Ardabili (b. ca. 1312).17 The borders on the vertical registers contain poetry, but they are not quoting Nizami’s text. They read: The splendor of your figure [comes] from beauty. It has given life to this outer cloak. There has never been a garment of such beauty. One might say it has been woven from the threads of your soul.18 14 Garments in seventeenth-century Iran consisted of an overcoat, which by mid-century had become a knee-length coat with a crossover front and an A-line silhouette (also described as bell-shaped). For a contemporary depiction of Safavid garments for both men and women, see Chardin, Travels in Persia, the illustration of the ‘Persian Costume,’ facing p. 212. 15 See Canby, The Golden Age of Persian Art, 108, cat. no. 97. A similar double cloth fragment depicting a maritime scene is also rendered in red and white; see ‘Textile Fragment with Sailing Ships’ at The Metropolitan Museum (42.185). 16 The dress of the figures flanking the cypress tree, who wear long robes with frogged enclosures to the waist with the edges of the balapush tucked into their belt loops, corresponds with paintings from the early to mid-sixteenth century. This is apparent throughout the Khamsa of Nizami commissioned by Tahmasp in 1524-1525 studied in Chapter 2, in which the legendary male figures are dressed in Safavid clothing. For examples, see the figure of Farhad in ‘Farhad Carves a Milk Channel for Shirin,’ Folio 74 (13.228.7.5) and the page boy in the upper left in ‘Khusrau Seated on His Throne’ (fig. 4.1) in the Khamsa of Nizami at The Metropolitan Museum. 17 It is notable that in Ardabili’s Farhadnama, the idealized love presented by Nizami is rejected by the later poet in favor of carnal love between the characters of Farhad and Shirin. See Moayyad, ‘Farhād (1).’ 18 Translation by Denise Marie Teece and Maryam Ekhtiar, with input from A. Ghouchani, Metropolitan Museum. For the English translation along with the original Persian text, see Ekhtiar et al., Masterpieces, 248, cat. no. 172.

Weaving Stories, Weaving Self: L ayl a and Ma jnun as Sufi Icons 

Figure 3.4: Textile fragment depicting Shirin and Farhad (detail). Attributed to sixteenth/seventeenth century, Safavid Iran. Silk, metal-wrapped thread; double cloth. L: 25 3/4 in. (65.4 cm), W: 14 3/8 in. (36.5 cm). The Metropolitan Museum of Art (46.156.7). Fletcher Fund, 1946.

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The quote further asserts that these double cloth-woven f igural textiles were indeed meant to be fashioned into garments, a likely outcome when examining the triangular shape of additional fragments.19 A final double cloth at the British Museum featuring narrative figural designs should also be noted here (fig. 3.5). Also arranged in a compartmentalized layout, this silk depicts three couples from Persian literature, each interacting with each other in recognizable scenes representing the arc of each narrative. Here, we see evidence that Nizami’s Khamsa is not the sole source of inspiration. In addition to Layla with Majnun in the wilderness and Khusrau spying on Shirin bathing, another set of lovers is included: Yusuf and Zulaikha, whose eponymous narrative is included in the fifteenth-century Persian-language poet Jami’s Haft Awrang (Seven Thrones). The story of historic personages Yusuf and Zulaikha are included in both the Old Testament (as Joseph and Potiphar’s wife) and in the Qur’an (12:23-33). Jami’s love story is stylistically and poetically derived from Nizami’s Khamsa romances, but he takes liberties with the tale to create a mystical allegory, in which the temptress Zulaikha is transformed by Yusuf’s devout faith and refusal to commit adultery. Though Yusuf suffers for his rejection of sin by being imprisoned, his prophetic divinatory powers redeem him and he is eventually elevated to the station of vizier. The naqshband was obviously inspired to add this third love story as part of the collection of great Persian romances; Layla and Majnun, Shirin and her admirers Khusrau and Farhad are all mentioned by name in Jami’s prologue to the tale.20 Anonymous Persian poetic verses in Naskhi calligraphy are arranged in rectangular registers throughout the design, appearing in reverse in alternating rows due to the use of vertical reflection. Composed by an anonymous poet, they are loosely translated: ‘Sleep soundly and from our friendship glad tidings will arise.’21 It is curious to note that instead of quoting the poetry of the original authors, the naqshband here is quoting a lesser-known poet; or, perhaps in the tradition of Ghiyath, writes original verse which he has included here as a demonstration of his skill. The only known or published fragment of this design resides at the British Museum, and is attributed to the early seventeenth century, owing to the rendering of the figures. In The Golden Age of Persian Art, scholar and curator Sheila Canby posits that the red and white double cloth silks may have been produced 19 Extant fragments of this design reside at the Textile Museum (3.280) and the Yale University Art Gallery (1937.4625). 20 For an English translation, see Jami, Yusuf and Zulaikha; see p. 5 of the prologue for the mention of Layla, Majnun, Shirin, Khusrau and Farhad. 21 Translated in Baker, Islamic Textiles, 118.

Weaving Stories, Weaving Self: L ayl a and Ma jnun as Sufi Icons 

Figure 3.5: Textile fragment depicting Khusrau and Shirin, Layla and Majnun, Yusuf and Zulaikha (detail). Attributed to early seventeenth century, Safavid Iran. Silk; double cloth. L: 12 3/4 in. (32.5 cm), W: 6 7/8 in. (17.5 cm). British Museum (1985,0506.1). Funded by Edmund de Unger. © The Trustees of the British Museum.

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by the same workshop that produced the due to the shared colours and weave structure.22 As noted, the scene of Layla visiting Majnun in the wilderness never occurs in Nizami’s Khamsa, nor are there any known Timurid or Safavid manuscript illustrations of the two lovers alone together in a similar environment.23 Nizami’s narrative places the lovers together face to face only twice during the period of madness and separation: at Layla’s camp when Majnun comes as a beggar with the old woman, and in the palm grove, a meeting facilitated by an old man. These meetings are not always depicted in Safavid versions of the Khamsa, but Timurid versions depicting the lovers together include both mediators at the site, with tents in the background indicating proximity to Layla’s camp.24 When Majnun is wandering in the desert wilderness of Najd, he is isolated from his beloved in these scenes, surrounded only by the wild animals sympathetic to his wild nature. Therefore, in this group of six silks depicting Layla and Majnun, only one remains faithful to Nizami’s narrative: a metal-thread velvet at the State Hermitage Museum (fig. 5.1) depicting a dreamy Majnun holding a deer in his lap, which will be discussed in Chapter 5. The remaining five designs of Layla and Majnun, including the two signed by Ghiyath, do not seem to correspond with Nizami’s epic poem, nor with manuscript illustrations illustrating his Khamsa. However, there were several paintings of Layla and Majnun together in the wilderness illustrating another Khamsa: that of the Turco-Indian poet Amir Khusrau Dihlavi (1253-1325), who composed his own quintet of poems in Delhi on the same subject matter in the late thirteenth century in response to Nizami’s great work. Amir Khusrau’s Khamsa was studied and learned by the educated elite in the Persianate world alongside the work of other master poets, and the subject of several illustrated manuscripts in the early modern period.25

22 The red and white double cloth featuring three sets of lovers is determined to have a later date of manufacture based on the dress styles of the characters depicted, which correspond with Safavid figure paintings from the early seventeenth century by Riza ‘Abbasi and the Isfahan school of painters. See Canby, The Golden Age of Persian Art, 109. 23 This observation was also noted by McWilliams, with acknowledgement to Simpson for pointing out the discrepancy between this scene with Nizami’s text. However, aside from this brief note, the question was not explored further in the publication. See McWilliams, in Bier, Woven from the Soul, Spun from the Heart, 187, cat. no. 26. 24 For an example, see ‘Layla and Majnun Faint at Their Meeting,’ attributed to Qasem ‘Ali, from a Khamsa of Nizami, 1494; f. 137v. British Library, Or. 6810. 25 For a summary of the text of Amir Khusrau and detailed study of the illustrated Khamsa produced under the patronage of Emperor Akbar, see Seyller, ‘Pearls of the Parrot of India.’

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The Khamsa of Amir Khusrau Amir Khusrau was poet laureate under a rapid succession of royal patrons throughout the early part of his career and documented in dynastic annals as part of the inner circle of the court. The poet travelled extensively with these rulers to different cities on military and political campaigns until mid-career, when he returned to Delhi and settled into a long period of stability as court poet for ‘Ala’ al-Din Muhammad Khalji (r. 1296-1316), the patron for his Khamsa.26 The thirteenth-century disruption and destruction by the non-Muslim Mongols throughout the Islamic world, who were defeated at the borders of the Indian subcontinent, had resulted in an exodus of educated Persian speakers from Central Asia and Iran to India, including Sufi leaders, artisans and administrators who sought employment and favour with the Muslim rulers of the Delhi Sultanate.27 By the late thirteenth century, Nizami’s Khamsa had already travelled to the subcontinent, where the rulers of India adopted Persian customs and language as the epitome of high culture. Familiarity with Persian-language literary classics was a prerequisite for court life, inspiring new poetry composed in Persian; accordingly, an educated viewer would have recognized the themes of the narratives. As a counterpoint to his elevated position at the lavish court of Delhi, Amir Khusrau would spend the majority of his life under the guidance of his murshid (‘spiritual teacher’), Sufi shaykh Nizam al-Din Awliya, whom he met at his grandfather’s house in Delhi as young man in 1272.28 Like the poet, the shaykh was of Turkish ancestry and born in India, beginning his spiritual journey as a disciple of Farid al-Din Ganjshekar, the leader of the Sufi Chishti Order. The Chishti Order was established in India by Khwaja Mo’in al-Din Chishti (d. 1236) in the late twelfth century, having migrated from Chisht (modern-day Afghanistan) to India after the Mongol invasion. The opposing worlds of courtly pleasure and spiritual practice were reflected in the range of subjects produced by Amir Khusrau throughout his career, which includes panegyrics for his royal patrons, in addition to ghazals and longer works. 26 Amir Khusrau travelled to Bengal in 1277-1278 with his patron Bogra Khan, the younger son of Sultan Balban. After returning to Delhi, Amir Khusrau left again for Multan with Muhammad Qa-an, Balban’s older son; the well-appointed court included another court poet and contemporary, Hasan Dihlavi, who is best known for his Favā-id al-Fu’ād (Morals of the heart), which recorded the discourses of Nizam al-Din Awliya. After that period, Amir Khusrau was in Awadh from 1287 to 1289, under the order of Kay Qubād, before returning to Delhi. See Brend, Perspectives in Persian Painting, xx-xxi, for a detailed account of Amir Khusrau’s whereabouts and patrons during the early part of his career. 27 The Mongol rulers were pagan and did not convert to Islam for almost 75 years. However, once established as the Il Khans in Iran, they quickly assimilated to the Persian language and Persian culture. 28 Losensky and Sharma, In the Bazaar of Love, xv.

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Although this range of styles was typical of medieval poets relying on patronage in a rapidly shifting political climate, Amir Khusrau often found court life to be contrary to his deep mystical practice.29 The teachings of the Chishti, which valued asceticism and service, coloured Amir Khusrau’s poetry, and he praised his shaykh in several written works, remaining his disciple until both perished in 1325.30 The poet was incredibly prolific: Amir Khusrau’s Khamsa accounts for only a small percentage of the 400,000-500,000 poetic verses he claimed to have written in Persian, in addition to Persian prose and Hindi poetry. He is also credited with innovations in Indian music.31 Referencing himself as ‘Tooty-i Hind’ (‘The Parrot of India’), the poet is perhaps referencing his talent for literary response, as well as the eloquence with which he expressed himself.32 Amir Khusrau was the first of several poets to respond to Nizami’s Khamsa with his own quintet, composed in Persian in the same metre. Interwoven within the narratives, Amir Khusrau acknowledges his work as both homage and javab-gui to Nizami’s original.33 Completing his work at great speed between 1298 and 1302, his Khamsa is composed in Persian using the maṣnavi format and follows the same pattern established by his predecessor: the opening work is a didactic treatise, followed by four legendary epics.34 His tales of the couples Khusrau and Shirin, Layla and Majnun are related in fewer lines than those of Nizami, and yet the poet reconstructs his version of each tale with equally rich language. The Khamsa of Amir Khusrau is one of the most frequently illustrated literary works from the Islamic world, following Ferdowsi’s Shahnama and the Khamsa of Nizami.35 29 Ibid., xii and xvi. 30 Amir Khusrau was buried next to Nizam al-Din in 1325, and both graves are pilgrimage sites to this day in New Delhi. 31 Brend, Perspectives in Persian Painting, xix. 32 Losensky and Sharma, In the Bazaar of Love, xi. 33 For more on literary imitation, see Seyller, ‘Pearls of the Parrot of India,’ 13; also see Schimmel, ‘Amir Ḵosrow Dehlavī.’ Nizami himself did not practice literary imitation, as attested to in the ‘Sharafnama,’ 8:6-15, and the introduction to ‘Layla and Majnun’; see Lornejad and Doostzadeh, On the Modern Politicization, 29-30 and 60-61. 34 Extant manuscripts of his Amir Khusrau’s Khamsa are arranged as follows: ‘Matla’ al-Anvar’ (‘The ascent of lights’), 3,010 couplets completed in 1298 in just two weeks during 1298. The romance of ‘Shirin and Khusrau’ follows: 4,124 couplets retelling the story of the Sasanian King and his Armenian Queen, completed in 1299. Third in the quintet is ‘Majnun and Layla,’ 2,660 couplets about the Bedouin lovers, also completed in 1299. The fourth poem is ‘A’inah-i Iskandari’ (‘Alexander’s mirror’), 4,450 couplets about the adventures of Alexander the Macedonian, completed in 1299-1300. Finally, the collection culminates in ‘Hasht Bihisht’ (‘The eighth paradise’), 3,344 couplets about the Sasanian King Bahram Gur visiting seven princesses in their coloured pavilions, culminating in an eighth paradise that encloses them, completed in 1301-1302. 35 Brend, Perspectives in Persian Painting, xiii.

Weaving Stories, Weaving Self: L ayl a and Ma jnun as Sufi Icons 

Amir Khusrau differentiated his tales in subtle ways from that of his predecessor. In addition to inverting the title names of his epic poems to ‘Shirin and Khusrau’ and ‘Majnun and Layla,’ Amir Khusrau altered the key events of the narrative somewhat (for summaries, see Appendices B and C). Most significantly, his narrative of the Bedouin lovers adds an episode in which Layla rushes to visit Majnun in the wilderness with her camel and palanquin following a fever-induced dream in which she envisions her lover’s plight. This event is often included in the cycle of illustrations for manuscripts of Amir Khusrau’s Khamsa and is one of the most commonly depicted scenes.36 The proliferation of commissioned Khamsa manuscripts of both Nizami and Amir Khusrau during the late medieval period indicates that illustrations of these literary classics were circulating in the social consciousness of elite patrons throughout the Persianate world. A late Timurid example in an illustrated Khamsa of Amir Khusrau, dated 1485 and attributed to Bihzad – master painter of the workshop that produced the Metropolitan Museum’s Khamsa of Nizami manuscript paintings examined in Chapter 2 – shows Layla’s camel in the lower left of the composition with Layla embracing Majnun (fig. 3.6).37 This painted composition seems to be consistent with four silks in the group, placing the lovers together and including several of these iconographic details. However, in some silks Layla is riding in her palanquin, including in the two lampas designs signed by Ghiyath (figs 3.1 and 3.2); while in the unsigned velvet (fig. 3.3), she has disembarked and is approaching her lover, corresponding more closely with paintings of the scene (see figs 3.6 and 3.7). As artists migrated throughout the Persianate realm, they brought their skill and style to the courts of the Indian subcontinent.38 Mughal paintings of the same scene in the sixteenth century follow the canons of Safavid painting and include several elements of the composition. A painting from a Khamsa of Amir Khusrau, produced at the Mughal Court in the 1590s, shows the lovers in a similar scene in the wilderness surrounded by animals (fig. 3.7). Attributed to Sanwalah and residing today at the Cleveland Museum of Art, this image shows Layla embracing an emaciated Majnun as her camel grazes nearby, balancing the draped red palanquin on its back. Shocked at Majnun’s condition, she exhibits the iconic gesture of surprise by holding one finger to her mouth. The Nasta’liq calligraphic script on the top and 36 For a list of manuscript illustrations by subject matter, see Brend, Perspectives on Persian Painting, Appendix A. 37 Other paintings of this scene include Jami’s Bustan dated 1488, also produced for Sultan Husayn Bayqara at Herat (the Museum of Islamic Art, Cairo, Farsi 908), and a copy of Jami’s Baharistan dated 1547 produced at Bukhara (Calouste Gulbenkian Museum, Lisbon, L.A.169). 38 The migration of Safavid artists and designers to the Mughal court will be further discussed in Chapter 5.

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Figure 3.6: Layla Visits Majnun in the Desert. Folio from a Khamsa (Quintet) of Amir Khusrau Dihlavi. Attributed to Bihzad, 1485; Timurid, Herat (Afghanistan). Approx. L: 7 7/8 in. (20 cm), W: 6 in. (15 cm). Chester Beatty Library, Dublin, MS 163, f. 120v. (Per 163.120). © The Trustees of the Chester Beatty Library, Dublin.

Weaving Stories, Weaving Self: L ayl a and Ma jnun as Sufi Icons 

Figure 3.7: Layla and Majnun in the Wilderness with Animals. Folio from a Khamsa (Quintet) of Amir Khusrau Dihlavi. Attributed to Sanwalah, ca. 1590-1600, Mughal India. Opaque watercolour, ink and gold on paper. L: 7 5/16 in. (18.6 cm), W: 6 3/8 in. (16.2 cm). Cleveland Museum of Art (2013.301). Gift in honour of Madeline Neves Clapp; gift of Mrs Henry White Cannon by exchange; bequest of Louise T. Cooper; Leonard C. Hanna Jr Fund; from the Catherine and Ralph Benkaim Collection.

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bottom borders quotes the Sufi philosopher and scholar, Khwaja Abd-Allah Ansari (Persian, 1006-1089), and is translated by the Cleveland Museum of Art: ‘What is “dervishness”? It is a little lump of fine purified soil with a sprinkling of a few drops of water: neither is the sole of the foot irritated by it, nor does the heel of the foot collect dust from it’ and signed ‘The work of the lowly….’ Inside the border, the text reads: ‘the meeting of Layla and Majnun, lover and beloved.’39 Slight variations on this theme appear in the textiles depicting the couple. The lampas designs signed by Ghiyath show Layla in her palanquin while she journeys to Majnun, rather than the two lovers embracing. The double cloth (fig. 1.1) and Keir velvet (fig. 3.3) place the couple much closer together, arranged more similarly to the composition of the paintings. Majnun is depicted in both of these unsigned versions with details emphasizing his ascetic condition, such as the outlining of the rib cage and an ultra-thin waist.40 Illustrations of Amir Khusrau’s ‘Majnun and Layla’ in sixteenth- and seventeenth-century Mughal paintings also echo these details, which makes one wonder if these manuscripts are indeed the ones that these unidentified textile designers have been looking at, if they were looking at paintings for inspiration. Amir Khusrau’s ‘Shirin and Khusrau’ also alters the narrative of the main characters, and in the corresponding cycle of illustration the bathing scene is omitted. Here, a pattern emerges: Timurid and Safavid examples consistently include the bathing scene, however, in Mughal manuscripts of Nizami’s Khamsa, paintings depicting Khusrau and Shirin in the erotic bathing scene are noticeably absent.41 Given these observations, it seems that the Khusrau and Shirin silks are depicting Nizami’s poem, while the Layla and Majnun silks are depicting Amir Khusrau’s poem. This is a fine point which previous scholars have not explored, but the difference between these two suggests new possibilities of meaning represented by each poet’s rendition of the narratives. The common thread between Nizami’s ‘Khusrau and Shirin’ and Amir Khusrau’s ‘Majnun and Layla’ is the imminent consummation of the lovers’ passion. Nizami’s 39 Translation provided by the Cleveland Museum of Art. “Layla and Majnun in the wilderness with animals, from a Khamsa (Quintet) of Amir Khusrau Dihlavi”; Sanwalah, ca. 1590-1600. https://clevelandart. org/art/2013.301 [accessed May 4, 2022] 40 The detailed outlining of the rib cage is in line with Hindu depictions of ascetics, and Majnun is frequently depicted with this detail included. In the red and white double cloth showing a continuous repeat of Layla and Majnun (f ig. 1.1), his rib cage is carefully outlined, despite the small scale of the design (based on the author’s measurements at a site visit to the Textile Museum in 2006, the figures are approximately 3.5’ wide x 5’ tall). 41 The Khamsa of Nizami commissioned by Mughal Emperor Akbar in 1590 includes the bathing scene as part of the narrative, but this is not illustrated in the manuscript. Instead, the first depiction of Khusrau meeting Shirin is on the hunting field. See Brend, The Emperor Akbar’s Khamsa of Niẓāmī, for a detailed study of the entire manuscript, now housed at the British Library (BL Or. 12208).

Weaving Stories, Weaving Self: L ayl a and Ma jnun as Sufi Icons 

Majnun never physically unites with Layla and the two are never alone together, whereas Amir Khusrau’s heroine seeks out her lover and comforts him in the wilderness. While Amir Khusrau’s royal lovers, Shirin and Khusrau, demurely meet on the hunting field in the presence of others, Nizami’s regal protagonists find themselves face to face while Shirin is in a state of undress, revealing the passion that is brewing between them. If we regard these tales as human reflections of the divine realm as hypothesized in Sufi philosophy, the chase and consummation of the earthly ‘ashiq and ma’shuq (‘lover’ and ‘beloved’) represent the quest for tawhid: the union of the mystic aspirant with God. Because of the familiarity with the iconography used to present this ideology, these silks would connect both wearer and viewer to the narratives. If the textiles originated from the royal court and its workshops, the subject matter may have been a direct commission from the ruler or someone in the court; if manufactured independently in silk-weaving workshops, perhaps the naqshband selected the subject matter. In either case, the importance of union as the central theme was implied by the depiction of each set of lovers in the respective Khamsa narratives. Exploring this idea further, it follows that some silks in this group may be expressing the Khamsa poetry of other literary responses. Javab-gui to Nizami’s work included not only Amir Khusrau Dihlavi, but also the fifteenth-century poets Jami (d. 1492), his nephew Hatefi (d. 1521), his contemporary Hilali (d. 1529), and the high-ranking Turkic political advisor and philosopher-poet ‘Ali Shir Nava’i (d. 1501), each of whom composed their own narrative versions featuring several of the same characters. 42 These later renditions of the Khamsa were, in turn, commissioned as illustrated manuscripts by the elite, disseminating images of the characters in pivotal moments within the narrative. Circulating among the elite, the resonance created may have encouraged the production and display of the stories in silk. 42 ‘Ali Shir Nava’i (1441-1501) composed his Khamsa in 1483-1485; written in Chagatay Turkish rather than Persian, his Khamsa includes: ‘Hayrat al-Abrar’ (‘The wonders of good people’), ‘Farhad va Shirin’ (‘Farhad and Shirin’), ‘Layla va Majnun’ (‘Layla and Majnun’), ‘Saba-yi Sayyar’ (‘The seven planets’), and ‘Sadd-i Iskandari’ (‘Alexander’s wall’). Other Khamsa manuscripts were composed with different characters, such as the thirteenth-century Khamsa of Khwaju Kirmani (completed in 1345). The late-fifteenth-century Haft Awrang of Abdul Rahman Jami (completed in 1483) included Layla and Majnun in the septet, as well as Old Testament/Quranic stories of two additional couples: Yusuf and Zulaikha, and Soloman and Absal; and a rendition of the Iskandarnama. The Khamsa of his nephew, Hatefi (completed ca. 1498), includes poems of lovers Khusrau and Shirin, Layla and Majnun, and Bahram Gur with his seven princesses. He revised the Iskandarnama by replacing Alexander with a new hero, Timur, in a work known alternately as the Timurnama or Zafarnama. His Khamsa was notably translated to Turkish and illustrated manuscripts of the work were produced by Ottoman patrons; as well as being popular in India in its original Persian. Hilali, a poet from Herat who was a close companion of ‘Ali Shir Nava’i and went to hajj with Jami, composed a rendition of ‘Layla and Majnun’(completed after 1508).

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Why choose one poet’s Khamsa over another? Perhaps with each iteration of these stories, personal connections with the characters within the community of readers grew stronger. As clothing is a display of one’s personal identity, perhaps the Khamsa silks also connected groups across the Persianate realm who recognized the poetic subtleties and identified one another as sharing the same beliefs and ideology, embodying the characters depicted on silk to communicate their inner selves.

Text and Textile in Sufi Poetry In Persian, the very creation of poetry references weaving: sh’er-baftan literally means ‘to weave verses.’ This is similar to the Latin etymology that equates weaving with narration and text from the root word texere (‘to weave’). Likewise, references to luxury textiles, thread, embroidery and weaving are used liberally throughout Persian poetry as metaphors for the human condition, particularly the longing of a lover for their beloved, ‘ashiq and ma’shuq. The poetic trope of burning desire manifested by separation of lover and beloved appears throughout the Persianate world and may have derived from the Majnun legend itself. In Early Islamic Mysticism, Sells points out that the theme of the unattainable beloved was central to the pre-Islamic Arabic nasib, but that ‘Udhri poetry (Arabic love poetry) brings this to a new level through the poetic works and life of Qays ibn al-Mulawwah, the legendary source for the literary character in the Khamsa. This is further supported by the literal translation of ‘Majnun’ as ‘possessed by jinn,’ as these supernatural spirits are also associated with poetic muses. It is the real-life poet’s experience, along with the codification of his tale, that creates this phenomenon as a new ideal: the madness-inducing state of love that causes the lover to perish and become absolved in the beloved. The worldly phenomenon of physical desire becomes a powerful metaphor of the spiritual seeker burning in the desire to unite with the divine Beloved. 43 Already by the twelfth century, when Nizami penned his Khamsa, madness and subsequent perishing of the lover had become recurrent themes in Sufi poetry. Even before Nizami’s codification of the legend, Majnun had become a symbol of the enlightened soul among truth-seekers who practiced an alternative form of Islam. From the eighth century, these mystics – conventionally referred to as ‘Sufis’ supposedly because they wore shirts made of suf (‘wool’) – sought unconventional paths on the road to enlightenment, many of which did not include traditional

43 See Sells, Early Islamic Mysticism, 69.

Weaving Stories, Weaving Self: L ayl a and Ma jnun as Sufi Icons 

religious practice. The goal was for the seeker to remove the ‘veils’ that separate the seeker and the Divine, resulting in fana’, a total annihilation of the ego. 44 Nizami and later poets emphasize the character of Majnun as having the ability to conquer the nafs al-amara, the physical needs of the self, to elevate the soul. This ability to exert mind over matter is evident in the character’s refusal of food, clothing and life in the ruggedness of the Arabian desert, but also demonstrated through his willingness to be chained and displayed as a lunatic by the beggarwoman. By ‘losing’ himself in his love for his earthly beloved Layla, Majnun overcame his nafs (‘self’ or ‘ego’) to perform ascetic acts that united him with the divine Beloved. This connection between longing, suffering and enlightenment would inform not only the literary world, but the life of the ascetic mystic referred to as darvish (pl. daravish), whose actions mirrored those of Majnun. 45 These mendicants, wandering homeless in an ascetic state like Majnun himself, often recited verses as the madman did. 46 Though daravish were often in conflict with the traditional ‘ulema (‘scholars’; religious men of learning), who considered this type of worship heretical, they also reminded society of Majnun’s journey from love to enlightenment through his adoration of Layla through poetry. The continuity of the ongoing connection of Majnun as the prototypical darvish is evident in Sanwalah’s sixteenth-century painting (f ig. 3.7), which depicts the lovers but replaces the poetry with that of the eleventh-century poet Ansari, who contemplates ‘dervishness.’ In his translation of Nizami’s classic text, Gelpke writes of the ‘three elements’ of Nizami’s traditional Majnun – love, insanity and poetical genius – as forming aspects of one indivisible unity. Gelpke aptly states: ‘Only when he is driven out of the paradise of his love does Majnun become both insane and a poet.’47 Thus, the ‘drunken’ Sufi orders – whose longing for divine union was expressed openly as poetry, sung at random without discernment, as if intoxicated – echo the behaviours 44 There are several Sufi groups that include both Sunni and Shi’a philosophical elements. Two of the more well-known examples are the Mevlevi order, founded in the thirteenth century by thirteenth-century shaykh and poet Jalaluddin Rumi in eastern Turkey, whose family originated from Balkh, Afghanistan; and the Nakshbandi order founded by fourteenth-century shaykh Bahauddin Naqshbandi Bukhari in India, whose name may indicate that he came from a family of textile designers from Bukhara, Uzbekistan. For more information on the development of Sufism and mysticism in Islam, see the introduction to Sells, Early Islamic Mysticism, 11-36. 45 Over time, the identification of being darvīsh would be applied both literally and metaphorically, representing either the ascetic lifestyle of a mendicant, or an ascetic mindset in a more moderate practitioner who rejects the connection to material objects while still living with material goods. In English, this word was simply adapted as ‘dervish.’ 46 For perspectives on the role of Majnun as a mystic ideal, see Meisami, The Sea of Precious Virtues; also Khairullah, Love, Madness and Poetry. 47 Nizami Ganjavi, The Story of Layla and Majnun, xiv-xv.

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of the legendary lover. 48 Beyond the Sufi practices which took place among the orders, some mystics broke off from Sufis and society alike, wandering throughout Islamic Asia visiting the shrines of saints. These wandering daravish engaged in extreme ascetic and/or hedonistic behaviour, including consumption of intoxicants such as alcohol and the use of hallucinogens such as hashish, which often made them appear insane.49 Nizami compares Majnun to a darvish when he describes the beloved’s effect on her admirer: ‘Layla could bewitch with one glance from beneath her dark hair, Majnun was her slave and a dervish dancing before her.’50 Nizami’s reference to Majnun as a darvish dancing before Layla is a contemporary reference for the benefit of his twelfth-century audience, who would have been familiar with these deviant groups who rejected social custom and material goods. Although the development of Sufism postdates the late seventh century, during which Qays ibn al-Mulawwah is believed to have lived, Nizami relates the Sufi practices of the dervish to the madman’s spiritual development, further cementing the relationship between the character and his readers. Despite the royal commission of this work and its elite listeners, Nizami’s audience perhaps considered themselves to be internally darvish as well. The link between poetry and madness is further corroborated by the character of Nawfal, the sympathetic ‘amir (‘prince’) who tried to assist Majnun by waging war on Layla’s tribe, when he acknowledges the poetic genius of his tormented friend: The man sitting in front of him was perhaps a madman, a fool – but there was no doubt that he was a poet, and among poets a master whose equal was not to be found in the whole of Arabia.51

By design, Nizami’s narrative links Majnun’s talents as a poet with his lovelorn state and is both the result and the perpetuation of his madness. Nizami further likens Majnun’s condition to that of a darvish with whom the twelfth-century audience was familiar, when he describes him as a ‘drunken madman’ who danced in front of every camp site, calling Layla’s name, chained and punished by the old woman.52 Throughout his narrative, Nizami refers to Majnun’s unrequited love and resulting lunacy as a thread with a knot in it. Majnun’s father experiences a rare moment of hope regarding his son’s condition when he decides to ask for Layla’s hand in 48 The concepts of ‘drunkenness’ and ‘sobriety’ are explored further in Chapter 4. 49 For ascetic and hedonistic behaviours among dervish groups, see Karamustafa, God’s Unruly Friends, 15-16 and 19-20, respectively. 50 Nizami Ganjavi, The Story of Layla and Majnun, 14. The Sufi dance ceremony (sama’) is elaborated upon in Chapter 4. 51 Ibid., 50. 52 Ibid., 78.

Weaving Stories, Weaving Self: L ayl a and Ma jnun as Sufi Icons 

marriage: ‘His sadness gone, he [Majnun’s father] was full of confidence that he could untie the knot in his son’s thread.’53 The forlorn father encourages his love-mad son to be happy again by declaring: ‘Bliss can undo all knots; it is the turquoise seal of God.’54 Majnun also relates his life to textiles when he justifies his madness to his father, declaring: ‘You know only too well how things are with me, but you also know that it is not ourselves who hold fate’s thread in our hands.’55 Throughout his epic work, Nizami also incorporates garment metaphors. Majnun’s father laments his son’s madness as the casting of the evil eye when he asks rhetorically: ‘Whose thorn has torn the hem of your robe?’56 Torn and discarded garments are literal as well as metaphorical. Majnun’s connection to civilized society is ripped away as he rents his fine robes. After befriending Nawfal, Majnun complies with societal norms again by bathing and donning fine clothes and a turban; after Nawfal’s abandonment of the war against Layla’s tribe, Majnun wanders through the wilderness of Najd, where thorns literally tear his garment asunder, mirroring the deterioration of his mental state.57 Garments also cloak the natural world that surrounds the lovers. After a lonely night for the separated lovers, Nizami describes the sunrise as enrobed nobility: ‘Once more the young day donned its morning coat, woven from shimmering brocade.’58 Other references are present as well: the light pushes through the ‘curtain of night,’ and the soft grass at the oasis where Majnun rests his weary head becomes silk brocade.59 Nizami becomes a craftsman himself when he weaves together love and responsibility in the tale of ‘Khusrau and Shirin.’ The Sasanian ruler’s relationship to his beloved is presented as an edifying device, reminding readers that Khusrau must put his responsibilities as king before his desire for Shirin. However, Khusrau’s promiscuous nature also plies him away from his infatuation when he weds Maryam, then Shekar, leaving the loyal Shirin waiting in the shadows. This inconstancy is supplanted by the brocaded tale of Farhad’s steadfast devotion to her, and her admiration of his character. Nizami then adds the shimmering threads of this subplot into the tangled weft of the main characters, when Khusrau creates the ruse for Farhad’s death. At the end, when the knots have been loosened and the happy couple is together, the cloth is torn apart by Shiruyeh’s coup and the murder-suicide of the lovers. Despite all this, Nizami concedes that fickle fate is the corroborator with 53 54 55 56 57 58 59

Ibid., 17. Ibid., 33. Ibid., 32. Ibid., 34. Ibid., 53 and 71. Ibid., 13. Ibid., 74-76.

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humans in this sad tale.60 The entire narrative is draped in precious silks, which are literal as well as metaphorical, and serve to remind the reader of the wealth and grandeur of the Sasanian era of kingship. Amir Khusrau’s version of the tale is equally laden with both literal and metaphorical references to precious stuffs, from ‘the pearled veil’ that Barbad celebrates in song, to the white silk that covers the distance between them as Khusrau rides to his wedding party at Shirin’s palace.61 Thread and cloth weaving are present in Persian poetic narratives whenever the characters are confronted with conflict, whether psychological or logistical. In A Two-Colored Brocade, Annemarie Schimmel remarks upon the importance of thread as a metaphor for romance in Persian poetry when she observes that ‘all the sorrows and worries which the soul undergoes in love are, as it were, materialized into knots that cannot be untangled.’62 Schimmel also relates the common metaphor of thread as fate in Sabk-i Hindi, the Indian poetic practice developed from the Persian prototype. Schimmel states: ‘The idea that one spins and weaves one’s own fate from one’s actions and thoughts is particularly well known in the Indian tradition.’63 The omnipresence of weaving and textile-making metaphors in medieval Persian verse are also explored by Jerome Clinton.64 Clinton notes that listeners of poetry were most likely amateur poets themselves, who appreciated the process of sh’er-bafi or sukhan-taraz, literally translated from Persian as the ‘weaving of words’ and ‘embroidery of speech,’ respectively.65 Silk and garments feature prominently in poetic metaphor from the early medieval period when Persian poetry began to flourish throughout the region. During the same time span that Ferdowsi was codifying the history of Iranian kingship in his Shahnama, Ghaznavid poet Farrukh-i Sistani (ca. 980-1038) states that ‘every garden receives/a colored robe of honor from the splendor of the prince,’ rendering nature as the monarch granting khil‘at to his courtiers, represented by the garden.66 His most famous qasida begins with a journey with a caravan from Sistan with a caravan of merchants specializing in fine robes: I went from Sistan with the caravan that carried the [festive] dress (hulla). I wore a dress spun from the heart and woven by the spirit, A garment of fine silk, woven from the word, 60 ‘Khusrau and Shirin,’ in Chelkowski, Mirror of the Invisible World, 43. 61 Brend, Perspectives on Persian Painting, summary of ‘Shirin and Khusrau.’ 62 Schimmel, A Two-Colored Brocade, 222. 63 Ibid., 224. 64 Clinton, ‘Image and Metaphor.’ 65 Ibid., 8. 66 Schimmel, A Two-Colored Brocade, 221. The concept of the khil‘at will be discussed further throughout this volume in Part II.

Weaving Stories, Weaving Self: L ayl a and Ma jnun as Sufi Icons 

A garment with delicate ornament, made by language. Each thread of its warp [was] twisted by the spirit with pain, Each thread of its weft [was] cut from the heart.67

Comparing the arts of poetry and weaving becomes an accepted convention by the thirteenth century, as documented by Shams-i Qays al-Raz-i, who authored a book on prosody entitled Al-Mu’jam fi Ma’air-i Ash’ar-il ‘Ajam (A compendium of rules for Persian poetry) dated 1220-1221, a quarter century after the completion of Nizami’s Khamsa. Regarding the nature of poetry itself, al-Raz-i writes: Most poets believe that gifted poets can criticize poetry, and only they can speak of its faults and failings, but this is wrong. Since a poet in versifying discourse is like a master weaver who weaves precious stuffs and works various images into them – graceful branches and leaves, precisely detailed sketches. But no one but merchants and clothiers through whose hands priceless stuffs of every kind and the products of every region have passed in abundance can determine their price. None but they know what is appropriate to the padishah’s wardrobe and what is proper for the costume of every kind of the classes of the great.68

In light of his predecessors and contemporaries, it is not unusual that Nizami was also using textile-based imagery to illustrate the human condition. In the context of al-Raz-i’s ‘priceless stuffs,’ the Khamsa silks possess the ‘precisely detailed sketches’ that allow the wearer to embody poetry itself in the silken threads depicting the madman, the king, and their beloveds. Ultimately, the connection of the silks in this group is that they depict lovers from Khamsa poetry, but not penned by the same poet. While the Khusrau and Shirin bathing scene corresponds with illustrated manuscripts of Nizami’s twelfthcentury Khamsa, Layla visiting Majnun in the wilderness is from the Khamsa of Amir Khusrau written a century later. The double cloth of Shirin and Farhad may indicate the eponymous poem of these lovers in the Khamsa of Ardabili or ‘Ali Shir Nava’i, and the inclusion of Yusuf and Zulaikha in the silk featuring three pairs of lovers seems to indicate Jami’s Haft Awrang, completed in the fourteenth and late fifteenth centuries, respectively. The actions and destinies of the characters changes in each of these poetic renditions, and following these alternative narratives, the erudite wearer would also indicate different aspect of his/her personality. The viewer of a Khamsa textile would, in turn, recognize the subtleties of these differences, 67 The Persian lines of Farrukh-i Sistani’s qasida are translated by Schimmel, A Two-Colored Brocade, 223. An alternate translation is offered by Clinton, ‘Image and Metaphor,’ 8. 68 Translation by Clinton, ‘Image and Metaphor,’ 10-11.

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which reside in the mind of the poet. While Nizami did not outwardly announce his attachment to a particular school of mysticism, the foundations of scientific and artistic scholarship produced in Sufi circles are expressed in his poetry through references to alchemy, the celestial bodies and the metaphor of weaving and textiles for the life and soul of his characters. Each of his literary successors created their own versions of the Khamsa as both homage to his original and to contribute to the evolution of Sufi scholarship in the following centuries. The development of institutionalized Sufism and its subsequent geopolitical spread led to the dissemination of beliefs expressed in material culture, elements of which will be studied in Part II of this book.

Works Cited Baker, Patricia L. Islamic Textiles. London: British Museum Press, 1995. Bier, Carol, ed. Woven from the Soul, Spun from the Heart: Textile Arts of Safavid and Qajar Iran, 16th-19th Centuries. Washington, DC: The Textile Museum, 1987. Brend, Barbara. The Emperor Akbar’s Khamsa of Niẓāmī. London: The British Library, 1995. Brend, Barbara. Perspectives on Persian Painting: Illustrations to Amir Khusrau’s Khamsah. London and New York: Routledge Curzon, 2003. Canby, Sheila R. The Golden Age of Persian Art. New York: Harry N. Abrams, 2000. Canby, Sheila R. Persian Painting. London: Trustees of the British Museum by the British Museum Press, 1993. Canby, Sheila R. Shah ‘Abbas: The Remaking of Iran. London: British Museum Press, 2009. Chardin, John. Travels in Persia, 1633-1677. New York: Dover, 1988. Chelkowski, Peter J. Mirror of the Invisible World. New York: The Metropolitan Museum of Art, 1975. Clinton, Jerome W. ‘Image and Metaphor: Textiles in Persian Poetry.’ In Woven from the Soul, Spun from the Heart: Textile Arts of Safavid and Qajar Iran, 16th-19th Centuries, ed. Carol Bier, 7-11. Washington, DC: The Textile Museum, 1987. Dols, Michael. Majnun: The Madman in Medieval Islamic Society. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1992. Ekhtiar, Maryam, Priscilla P. Soucek, Sheila R. Canby and Navina Najat Haidar, eds. Masterpieces from the Department of Islamic Art in the Metropolitan Museum of Art. New York: The Metropolitan Museum of Art, 2011. Jami, Hakim Nuruddin Abdurrahman. Yusuf and Zulaikha. Translated by David Pendlebury. London: The Octagon Press, 1980. Karamustafa, Ahmet T. God’s Unruly Friends: Dervish Groups in the Islamic Later Middle Period 1200-1550. Oxford: Oneworld Publications, 2006.

Weaving Stories, Weaving Self: L ayl a and Ma jnun as Sufi Icons 

Khairullah, Asad. Love, Madness and Poetry: An Interpretation of the Majnun Legend. Beirut: Orient-Institut, 1980. Lornejad, Siavash, and Ali Doostzadeh. On the Modern Politicization of the Persian Poet Nezami Ganjavi. Edited by Victoria Arakelova. Yerevan: Caucasian Centre for Iranian Studies, 2012. Losensky, Paul E., and Sunil Sharma. In the Bazaar of Love: The Selected Poetry of Amir Khusrau. New Delhi: Penguin Books, 2011. Majnun (Qays ibn al-Mulawwah). Life & Poems. Translated and Introduction by Paul Smith. Victoria: New Humanity Books, 2016. Meisami, Julie Scott. The Sea of Precious Virtues: A Medieval Islamic Mirror for Princes. Salt Lake City: University of Utah Press, 1991. Moayyad, Heshmat. ‘Farhād (1).’ In Encyclopædia Iranica, online edition. Last updated: December 15, 1999. https://www.iranicaonline.org/articles/farhad%20(1) Nezami Ganjavi. Layli and Majnun. Translated and with an introduction and notes by Dick Davis. New York: Penguin Books, 2021. Nizami Ganjavi. The Story of Layla and Majnun. Translated by Rudolph Gelpke. New Lebanon: Omega Publications, 1997. Schimmel, Annemarie. ‘Amīr Ḵosrow Dehlavī.’ In Encyclopædia Iranica, online edition. Last updated: December 30, 2012. http://www.iranicaonline.org/articles/amir-kosrow-poet Schimmel, Annemarie. A Two-Colored Brocade: The Imagery of Persian Poetry. Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 1992. Sells, Michael A., ed. and trans. Early Islamic Mysticism: Sufi, Qur’an, Mi’raj, Poetic and Theological Writings. New York: Paulist Press, 1996. Seyller, John. ‘Pearls of the Parrot of India: The Walters Art Museum “Khamsa” of Amir Khusraw of Delhi.’ The Journal of the Walters Art Museum 58 (2000): 5-176. Spuhler, Friedrich. Islamic Carpets and Textiles in the Keir Collection. London: Faber and Faber, 1978.

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Part II

4. The Divine Cloak of Majesty: Material Culture in Sufi Practice Abstract Khamsa lovers are discussed as metaphors for the Sufi concept of earthly love as a mirror of divine love, bringing into question whether these silks would be worn by devout worshipers as a khirqa (‘Sufi cloak’). The relationship between material culture and spirituality is discussed in both mainstream Islam and Sufi mystic practice. Sufi etiquette books called futuwwat nama are discussed as the guidelines for garments, fibre types and patterns permissible for Sufi aspirants. In heterodox Islam the history of silk, gold and figural garments are studied through hadith (canonical saying about the Prophet’s life) and Qur’anic verse. Early modern kingship in Safavid Iran and Mughal India is introduced as extensions of Sufi practice and beliefs, expressed through symbolic dress and garments gifted as khil‘at (‘robes of honour’). Keywords: Sufi robe, taj Safavi, Naqshbandi Sufi, Chishti Sufi, Safavi Order, Nizam al-Din Awliya

Considering that the Khamsa silks are imbued with characters celebrated in mystic poetry, it would follow that the wearers of these divinely inspired luxury garments would be practicing Sufis. However, a careful study of the relationship between mysticism and material culture indicates that this connection is hardly straightforward. While the iconography of Khamsa silks implies a strong correspondence with mystic belief, the donning of figural silk garments for men is a highly contested practice in traditional Islam, and in some cases within Sufi circles as well. From the latter half of the seventh century, sumptuary laws based on shari’a (‘Islamic canonical law’) were enforced to prohibit men from wearing silk and limit the depiction of human figures, whose function and context were continually debated by the ‘ulema (‘scholars of Islamic teaching’) throughout the centuries.1 From the medieval period, Sufi etiquette books were penned by spiritual 1 Baker, Islamic Textiles, 16.

Munroe, N.H., Sufi Lovers, Safavid Silks and Early Modern Identity. Amsterdam: Amsterdam University Press, 2023 doi 10.5117/9789463721738_ch04

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leaders to define behaviour codes for followers of mystic belief, including chapters focused on permissible dress and materials. Garments were also gifted as blessings and symbols of approval. In Sufi practice, the transfer of a sacred garment can indicate the conferral of spiritual authority, or a blessing for its recipient. In courtly culture, honorific robes were granted as a sign of approval and accepted as a form of allegiance. These traditions amplify the significance of garments that represented luxury and piety through the juxtaposition of silk and the darvish Majnun. This chapter will contemplate the possibilities of wearing a Khamsa silk garment in the context of Persian traditions, Sufi practice and Islamic culture from the medieval to early modern periods.

Garments as Gifts of Blessing, Piety and Power The role of garments as objects imbued with the power to transfer temporal and spiritual authority in the Persianate realm had a long history predating Islam. It was a central aspect of pre-Islamic Iranian and Arab practices of gift giving and investiture, and the early Islamic rulers would emulate these practices and incorporate them into their annual tributary events. Taking on new significance in the early Islamic context, the transferral of clothing from a religious or temporal leader continued to serve as symbols of both spiritual purity and power in the early modern period. In Achamaenid Iran (ca. 550-333 BCE), subjects in the realm offered tribute to the king during the key celebrations of Noruz and Mihragan (spring and fall equinoxes, respectively), bringing valuable goods that included cloth and luxurious clothing. The practice of bearing tribute for the king is immortalized on the stone carvings at Takht-i Jamshid (Persepolis) outside Shiraz, Iran, which depicts dignitaries from different provinces in the Achamaenid empire lined up to present gifts to the sovereign. A gift given by a subordinate to a superior was generally called pishkash and putting gifts down before the shah was known as dastandaz, payandaz, or pishandaz.2 In turn, the king gave away all the clothing from his wardrobe to members of his court, which was believed to be imbued with farr, the divine glory of sovereignty. Gift-giving practices at court were institutionalized by the Sasanian period and remained in place until the seventh-century CE Islamic conquest.3 In this context, the giving and receiving of clothing was an essential aspect of Iranian kingship: subjects paid respect to the sovereign through their offerings, and their

2 3

For a discussion of the dual function of pishkash as gift and tribute, see Lambton, ‘Pishkash.’ Moroney, ‘Gift Giving in the Iranian Tradition,’ 35-36.

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loyalty was rewarded with garments whose literal and symbolic worth exceeded their tribute. The gifting or regifting of clothing was not a strictly Iranian phenomenon. In pre-Islamic Arab culture, when the ruler was pleased with a panegyric or well composed poem, he would doff his aba (‘sleeveless cloak’ or ‘overgarment’) and place it on the shoulders of the poet. Following the Arab conquest and the mass conversion of Iranians to Islam (650 CE onwards), clothing given as a gift from a ruler to a subordinate was referenced in Islamic and Persianate culture as khil‘at, from the Arabic verb khilʿa, meaning ‘to take off [one’s clothing].’ Following this convention, the garment was referenced as khil‘at in Persian, inclusive of any additional elements such as turban cloths, fine textiles or luxury objects. The cloak also functions as a symbolic object in early Islamic history. The immediate family of the Prophet Muhammad (ca. 570-632 CE) are referred to as ‘Al-e ‘Aba’ (‘The family of the cloak’). This designation includes his son-in-law ‘Ali, his daughter Fatima, and their children Hasan and Husayn. The expression finds its roots in a hadith (canonical saying about the Prophet’s life) relaying that Muhammad gathered these four family members one by one under his goat hair cloak, after which the Quranic verse (33:33) was revealed to him: ‘God wishes only to remove taint from you, people of the Household, and to make you utterly pure.’4 The burda (‘mantle’ or ‘cloak’), a wrap of striped woollen cloth worn by the Prophet Muhammad after the revelation (610 CE), became both a material asset and a psycho-spiritual talisman.5 In keeping with the Arab tradition of rewarding poets with garments, the Prophet is documented in hadith as having bestowed his own burda to the poet K’ab ibn Zuhayr after being presented a poem commemorating the latter’s conversion to Islam. This is documented by ‘Ali ibn al-Athir, a historian and biographer writing in Arabic, in Kitab al-Kamil fi Tarikh (The book of complete history), comprised of eleven volumes and completed ca. 1231. For the Prophet Muhammad’s bestowal of his burda on the poet K’ab ibn Zuhayr to have been included in this classic medieval work indicates its importance as a historic event establishing the tradition of clothing conferral as a mark of approval within Islamic culture.6 The Prophet’s burda was purportedly purchased from the poet by the Umayyad caliphs and incorporated into the caliphal investiture ceremony. Successive Umayyad and ‘Abbasid caliphs ruling the Islamic lands in the first centuries following the Prophet’s death wore this sacred cloak on their shoulders to legitimize their right to spiritual and temporal leadership. In Shi’a belief, the investiture of ‘Ali, the 4 Algar, ‘Al-e ‘Aba.’ 5 Stillman, Arab Dress, 14. 6 Ibn al-Athir, Kitab al-Kamil fi Tarikh, II, 133-134.

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Prophet’s cousin and son-in-law, as his successor was signified by the placement of Muhammad’s cloak on his shoulders.7 An alternate Shi’a version is that ‘Ali was granted the turban or ‘imama of the Prophet, perhaps to counterbalance the possession of his burda by the Umayyad and ‘Abbasid caliphs.8 Thereafter tradition and the granting of honorific garments at set times of the year became incorporated into Islamic culture. The governor of Iraq, Al-Hajjaj ibn Yusuf (r. 694-714), first introduced gift giving during Noruz to his court; the custom was subsequently abolished by Caliph Umar II (r. 717-720), then reinstated a few years later by Yazid II (r. 720-724), demonstrating the initial ambivalence and eventual acceptance of these traditions. After debating the true nature of the gifts and how to account for them, Arab Muslim rulers incorporated this practice into the newly developing Islamic culture during the ‘Abbasid period, accepting them as a form of tribute. The reign of ‘Abdallah ibn Tahir, governor of Khorasan (r. 828-845) followed the pre-Islamic Iranian tradition most accurately, bestowing all his clothing among his subjects at Noruz and Mihragan until the treasury was empty and his blessings had been bestowed throughout the realm.9 Ultimately, practices in the Persianate world combined Iranian notions of gift giving as a transfer of energy from an authority figure with the Prophetic tradition of conferring spiritual leadership as a reward for the recipient’s piety.

Chivalry, Spirituality and Materiality in Sufism Sufism adapted notions of sacred garments and the conferral of garments to form a parallel tradition. Spiritual leaders bestowed initiates with a distinctive robe, referenced as khirqa (‘Suf i robe’). Initiates had to prove themselves worthy of wearing the khirqa, and investiture usually happened after three dedicated years of education and practice with a teacher.10 Becoming an integral part of Suf i practice, wearing the khirqa with its accompanying waist wrap (girdle) became a representation of active participation and commitment to the chivalric brotherhood embodied in the Sufi order. The khirqa is described in medieval sources as a patched frock, which by the early modern period had evolved into several variant garment forms. The ethical and 7 The investiture of ‘Ali as the Prophetic successor was, and still is, a much-debated topic in Islam. Early modern sources acknowledge more than one version of this investiture; see Kashifi, The Royal Book of Spiritual Chivalry, 148-150. 8 Stillman, Arab Dress, 17. Baker cites the conferral of the Prophet’s turban to ‘Ali as happening at the Battle of Khumm; see Baker, ‘A History of Islamic Court Dress,’ 28-29. 9 Moroney, ‘Gift Giving in the Iranian Tradition,’ 36-37. 10 Schimmel, Mystical Dimensions of Islam, 102.

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spiritual requirements of wearing the khirqa is outlined in medieval Sufi manuals, particularly in the genre of handbooks referenced as futuwwat nama (‘literature defining chivalric behaviour’). Developing during the ‘Abbasid period (750-1258), chivalric principles were based on the Arab concept of the fata and the Persian synonym of the javanmard (‘young man’). The practice of futuwwat or javanmardi (literally, ‘young manliness’) developed over time in both Iranian and Arab Islamic cultures based on legendary heroes. In the Islamic context, the concept of the ideal man is based on the historic figure of ‘Ali, the fourth Imam in the Prophetic succession, renowned for possessing the qualities of bravery in battle and generosity with his material goods: a combination of the ideal fata/javanmard.11 In order to educate the followers about ‘Ali’s example, etiquette books called futuwwat nama were developed. Futuwwat literature seems to have been addressed to several classes of society, with the common goal of spiritual chivalry as its unifying factor. However, not all futuwwat groups were in agreement about the rules governing behaviour. In his eponymous work on the topic of javanmardi, Lloyd Ridgeon points out that non-Sufi groups in the medieval period also identified with being fata/javanmard, some of whom lived far outside the prescriptive behaviour codes as rogues and bandits, known as ‘ayyar-futuwwat.12 These non-Suf i chivalric groups generated much criticism for their disruptive behaviour, creating a negative image for the futuwwat tradition. Therefore, the development of futuwwat nama represents the codification of a behaviour code, an attempt to unify all groups associated with the futuwwat/javanmardi tradition through mystic practice. The function of futuwwat nama was trifold: to assist the devout fata/javanmard in presenting a respectable demeanour; to defend these brotherhoods from critics who denounced them; and to promote unity within the collective brotherhood as they sought individual unity with the Divine. Iranian notions of honour expressed as jawanmardi along with its negative counterpart of ‘ayyari (‘banditry’) seem to have been popularized by the group led by Yaqub ibn al-Layth al-Saffar (840-879), a Saffarid conqueror who led the Iranians to autonomous rule during the ‘Abbasid period. Yaqub ibn al-Layth became a folk hero who claimed to uphold the ideology of the Sasanian pre-Islamic 11 The idealization of ‘Ali as the exemplary javanmard is prevalent in Suhrawardi’s Kitab fi’l Futuwwat; see Ridgeon, Jawanmardi, 37-38. Ridgeon’s translation follows his introduction to the text, 42-95. 12 Ridgeon, Jawanmardi, 3; ‘ayyan is translated from Arabic by Ridgeon as ‘bandit’ and indicates their rabble-rousing reputations. This topic also addressed in the introduction by Mahmud Shelton to Kashifi’s The Royal Book of Spiritual Chivalry, xxii. The terms ‘ayyar and its negative counterpart of ‘ayyari (‘banditry’), were also used to describe Yaqub Ibn al-Layth al-Saffar and his followers by his critics. This informs us of the historical overlap of the concept of javanmardi with ‘ayyari, as Yaqub and his followers were often portrayed in Persian literature as Robin Hood-type figures.

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kings, focused on the key concepts of loyalty, bravery and piety. Yaqub and his followers were often portrayed in Persian literature as Robin Hood-type figures and derogatorily referenced as ‘ayyar, informing us of the historical overlap of the concept of javanmardi with ‘ayyari.13 The core concepts of Iranian javanmardi are epitomized by the eleventh-century Qabus-nama (Mirror for princes) by Ziarid ruler Kay Kavus (r. 1050-1087). A Persianlanguage prose literary work, the book was written as both instructional guide and memoir intended to advise his son and other members of the nobility in chivalric leadership. Of the total 44 chapters, the first few address Islamic spiritual concerns, such as the concept of tawhid and the Prophethood as a divine institution maintaining order in the world. Several chapters follow expressing the maxims of Iranian pre-Islamic concepts of chivalric etiquette, including various topics from running a household to becoming a just ruler. The work concludes with two final chapters about the fundamentals of chivalry and the attitude of the darvish, connecting the concept of javanmardi with Sufism.14 The first Sufi treatise codifying the chivalric aspect of mysticism, Kitab alFutuwwat, dates to the tenth century. Authored by ‘Abd al-Rahman Sulami (d. 1021), this work fuses the beliefs of Sufism and the practice of futuwwat/javanmardi. Sulami’s work emphasized the qualities of loyalty, piety and selflessness as demonstrative of the internal aspects of the chivalric concept in Sufi practice. Additional medieval treatises followed, notably by Abul Hasan Kharaqani (d. 1033) and Ibn ‘Arabi (d. 1240), both of whom relayed the concept of futuwwat/javanmardi in a philosophical and metaphysical context.15 The earliest Persian-language futuwwat nama was authored by a Sufi master originally from northern Iran, Shehab al-Din Abu Hafs al-Suhrawardi (d. 1234), advisor to Caliph al-Nasir al-Din Allah (r. 1180-1223) who became his patron in Baghdad. Soon after his accession, Nasir al-Din joined a futuwwat society as a means of political control over these groups, bringing the urban elite and government officials into futuwwat society with him from 1203 and closing branches outside Baghdad.16 To further consolidate his control, Nasir al-Din appointed Suhrawardi ‘Shaykh al-Shoyukh’ (‘Head of the Sufi Masters’) in 1203, securing the support of Sufi groups.17

13 Ridgeon, Jawanmardi, 1-2. 14 De Bruijn, ‘Kaykāvus b. Eskandar.’ 15 Ridgeon, Jawanmardi, 2. 16 Ibid., 26. 17 Ohlander discusses the political and historical context of the relationship between Suhrawardi and Nasir al-Din, including bringing the urban elite and ruling class into futuwwa society by joining the Sufi order himself (Sufism in an Age of Transition, 19-27).

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As Sufism gained power through this mutually beneficial sponsorship, the institutionalization of its communities became a logistic necessity. To this end, Suhrawardi’s treatise ‘Awaref al-Ma’aref (Kind gifts of [mystic] knowledge) became the advisory manual for issues pertaining to masters and disciples in Sufi orders, including a section devoted to the khirqa (section 15).18 In contrast to the metaphysical mysticism presented by Ibn ‘Arabi, Suhrawardi focused on the more tangible aspects of chivalric practice.19 In addition to his master work, Suhrawardi authored two subject-specific short treatises in Persian: Kitab f’il-Futuwwat and Risala-yi Futuwwat, which differ from Arabic-language futuwwat literature of the time by situating the tradition firmly within the context of Islam and Sufi practice. It is noteworthy that in Suhrawardi’s treatises, futuwwat was presented as a less intense version of Sufi practice geared towards lay members, such as tradesmen, soldiers and manual workers (including craftsmen), who were not able to abandon their livelihood to commit to full-time ascetic and spiritual practice.20 Addressing these lay members who were unable or unwilling to commit to the full-time practice of Sufism, Suhrawardi directs them to earn their living by any lawful means as a form of active worship.21 This perspective would prove significant in the dissemination of Sufi practice among a broad swath of society that would subsequently need be cognizant of their beliefs and recognize one another outside the khaneqah (‘Sufi meeting house’) by donning specific garments. As documented in medieval and early modern treatises, the various types of attire indicating a commitment to futuwwat/javanmardi in the Sufi context includes headwear, a waist wrap, and the khirqa, which can all take various forms and signif icance. Prior to Suhrawardi’s treatises bringing together futuwwat/ javanmardi with Sufi practice, members of these brotherhoods also had their own specialized apparel. Detailed by Suhrawardi in Kitab fi’l-Futuwwat, these included a sheepskin vest and tight trousers, an ensemble known as yar pirahan (‘clothing of the friends’) worn in Fars (Iran). As the practices of chivalry and gnosis were combined, the garment types and materials of each respective tradition were codif ied and their signif icance elaborated upon in the context of the Islamic 18 Suhrawardi’s ‘Awarif al Ma’aref is also translated variously as ‘The benefits of the spiritually learned’ or ‘The gifts of spiritual perceptions.’ There are two sections dedicated to the khirqa out of the 63 chapters in total, and several additional mentions of it throughout the text. For the earliest English translation, see H. Wilberforce Clarke; it should be noted that Clarke translated the text from the Persian. See Chittick, ‘‘Awāref al-Ma‘āref.’ 19 Ridgeon, Jawanmardi, 25. Ridgeon notes that, while the key elements of Sufi literature and futuwwat literature overlap, the mystical and metaphysical elements, such as the concept of tawhid (‘oneness’), found in the former generally do not appear in the latter. 20 Ibid., 5. 21 Ibid., 6.

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tradition. To this end, Suhrawardi describes the complete dress of futuwwat as being comprised of both the Suf i khirqa and the fata/javanmard garments of yar pirahan, signifying tamam jama (the ‘complete garment’).22 These material emblems of Sufism were absorbed into the traditions of artisans who were lay members; by the medieval period, guilds initiating a new master artisan would include the waist wrap in the initiation rights to the new position, literally and metaphorically tying together the work of craft making with the behaviour connoting spiritual chivalry.23 In addition to codifying dress and adab (‘behaviour codes’) for members of the brotherhood, Suhrawardi presents the doctrine of the inseparability of futuwwat, Suf ism and the caliphate, a point supporting the agenda of Nasir al-Din, who wanted to establish the ultimate authority of the caliph through aff irmation by spiritual and religious authorities. 24 By codifying the link between chivalric behaviour, spiritual authority and temporal power, Suhrawardi established a relationship between Suf i orders and the ruling class which was mutually benef icial. Rulers were advised by well-respected Suf i shaykhs, increasing their popularity among the people; and in turn, the Suf i orders were gifted with endowments to maintain their communities. Throughout the thirteenth century, Suhrawardi’s followers established branches in Syria, Iran, India, and throughout the Islamic east in his mystic tradition, the tariqa Suhrawardiyya (‘path of Suhrawardi’). 25 Prior to the arrival of Suhrawardi’s followers, other Sufi orders had already put down roots in the Persianate world. Sufi master ‘Abdullah Ansari (d. 1089) was considered the patron saint of the city of Herat, whose followers maintained his order and shrine, which became a large pilgrimage site in the following centuries.26 In some cases, shaykhs were granted lands comprising a velayat (‘region of authority’) and became quite wealthy, collecting taxes on agricultural crops, including silk.27 This includes an influential order founded in the eleventh century by Shaykh Ahmad 22 Suhrawardi, cited in Ridgeon, Jawanmardi, 82. Ridgeon translates tamam jama as a ‘finishing garment,’ however, I have translated this as ‘complete garment’; the indication is that the philosophical and practical aspects of both traditions is united through the ensemble of trousers and khirqa. The term yar pirahan can be translated from Persian alternately as ‘friend of the dress’ or ‘dress of the friends,’ in either case demonstrating kinship and identity as a fata/javanmard through the donning of this specific garment or ensemble of garments. 23 Keyvani, ‘Artisans and Guild Life in the Later Safavid Period,’ 78. 24 Ohlander, Sufism in an Age of Transition, 24. 25 Ibid., 6-7. 26 Paul, ‘The Rise of the Khwajegan-Naqshbandiyya Sufi Order in Timurid Herat,’ 72. 27 Ibn Battuta notes the large quantity of silk produced in the region in his Travels (III, 580). Also see Potter, ‘Sufis and Sultans,’ 91-92, for a discussion of the wealth from agriculture of the velayat controlled by the Sufis at Jam.

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at Jam (located east of Herat, Afghanistan).28 Developing a dynastic silsila (‘chain of spiritual authority’), the Sufis at Jam grew quite rich and maintained close ties with the rulers, including the Saljuq sultan Sanjar (r. 1097-1157), who is documented as being a disciple of Shaykh Ahmad.29 Even as major political shifts transferred power from the Saljuqs to the Tajik Kart rulers who rebuilt Herat following the Mongol attacks in 1222, the Sufis at Jam maintained their status and wealth, with Shaykh Ahmad’s fourteen sons retaining control of the shrine complex constructed in their father’s name. The descendants of Shaykh Ahmad of Jam would later be connected to the Central Asian Mughal dynasty through marriage (see Chapter 5). Following the thirteenth-century Mongol invasion, shrines began to supplant mosques as the foci of social and religious activity. A number of important shrines were erected in Iran and Afghanistan between 1305 and 1365 around graves of Sufi saints in Jam, Natanz, Pir-e Bakran, Ardabil and Bistam.30 These shrines often include complexes incorporating a Sufi khaneqah for spiritual retreats, madrasa (‘school’) and other amenities that varied but could include a hospital, soup kitchen or other public-serving institution. The Sufis at Jam became known as the Khwajegan (‘Masters’ or ‘Teachers’), some of whom migrated to India in the fourteenth century.31 By the fifteenth century, the order became known as the Naqshbandi, named after their shaykh, Baha al-Din (d. 1389), who was posthumously referenced with the suffix ‘Naqshband.’32 Indian sources reviewed by Jain indicate that Baha al-Din came from a family of textile designers, and that this professional identity was maintained within the order.33 A more spiritual association proposes that the epithet was added to Baha al-Din’s title when he became a master shaykh, and that its true meaning is ‘the making of an impress (naqsh) upon the tablet of the Supreme Divine Name Allah upon the purified heart, and then fixing it there permanently (band) to the exclusion of all other impresses.’34 An alternate association proposed here by the author is that the suffix naqshband may indicate that a large number of textile designers were members of the order, whose professional title appears in the name of the order itself. Thompson also favours this hypothesis and notes that in Indian sources Baha al-Din is 28 The biography of Shaykh Ahmad, Sadīd-al-dīn Moḥammad Ḡaznavī, Maqāmāt-e Žandapīl Aḥmad-e Jām, claims that his legitimacy was linked to his receiving the kherqa of Abu Sa’id b. Abi’l Kayr. However, according to primary sources he didn’t study with a noted pir. See Moayyad, ‘Aḥmad-E Jām.’ 29 Potter, ‘Sufis and Sultans,’ 84-85. 30 Ibid., 78. 31 Foltz, ‘Central Asian Naqshbandi Connections,’ 230. 32 Paul, ‘The Rise of the Khwajegan-Naqshbandiyya Sufi Order in Timurid Herat,’ 75-76. 33 Jain, Mughal Velvets, 6. 34 See Algar, ‘The Naqshbandī Order,’ 137.

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anachronistically credited with the invention of the naqsheh (actually believed to be dated ca. 1000 CE, approximately 350 years before his life span). Thompson and Jain both agree that this was probably due to the spread and development of drawloom weaving, which may have been perpetuated throughout South Asia by Naqshbandi Sufi weavers, furthering the connection between the order’s name and the practice of textile design.35 Notably, the Naqshbandi were known for being a ‘sober’ order. Approaches to Sufi practice are defined in the first major treatises on Sufism as sahw (‘sobriety’) and sukr (‘drunkenness’), and debated in mystic circles with regard to both intention and behaviour.36 The ‘sober’ orders refrained from public displays of Suf i practice – such as dancing, music and vocal zikr (‘recitation’) popular with the ‘drunken’ orders – which they considered a form of ostentation opposed to the Prophetic tradition.37 The Naqshbandi emphasized practicing Suf ism inwardly, while still being fully participatory members of society. This concept became known as khalvat dar anjuman (‘solitude within society’) and was practiced by many of the visual and performing arts professionals who were also members of Suf i orders.38 Referenced in various primary sources from the late medieval and early modern periods, these Suf i members were pointedly addressed in several futuwwat nama specif ically by profession, as discussed in the forthcoming section. During the medieval period, the professionals that were allowed to participate in futuwwat associations seems to have been determined by the tools of the trade. Suhrawardi’s Kitab f’il futuwwat acknowledges the participation of trade professionals but does not list them specifically by practice.39 The thirteenth-century Futuwat Namah-yi Nasiri mentions specific professionals that are denied entry to futuwwat orders, which in this example included weavers. 40 Kashifi’s fifteenth-century 35 See Thompson, ‘Safavid Carpets and Textiles,’ 311, n. 19. 36 Saab, ‘Intoxication in Ṣūfism.’ For a discussion of early classifications of these concepts, see Mojaddedi, ‘Getting Drunk with Abu Yazid.’ 37 For the theory of the silent zikr transmitted from Prophet Muhammad to Abu Bakr, see Algar, ‘The Naqshbandī Order,’ 129. Ridgeon proposes an alternate explanation for ‘sober’ practice which was to separate Sufism from urban futuwwat societies in places where they had gained a bad reputation. See Ridgeon, Jawanmardi, 40. Foltz writes that Naqshbandi sobriety rejected distinctive forms of dress, but this seems unlikely as Kashifi also stressed khalvat dar anjuman, a quintessentially ‘sober’ idea; see Foltz, ‘Central Asian Naqshbandi Connections,’ 230. 38 See Algar, ‘The Naqshbandī Order,’ 133, for the Naqshbandi adoption of khalvat dar anjuman. For artisans involved in this practice, see Babayan, Mystics, Messiahs and Monarchs, 166; also Keyvani, ‘Artisans and Guild Life in the Later Safavid Period,’ 42. 39 See section 48 of Suhrawardi, Kitab f’il futuwwat, in Ridgeon, Jawanmardi, 59. 40 Ridgeon speculates that this is perhaps because the materials they with which they come into contact are forbidden. See Ridgeon, Jawanmardi, 10.

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Futuwat Namah-yi Sultani lists several professions by identifying the ‘hand-grip’ of their tools, but weavers and textile workers are conspicuously absent. As the manuscript is incomplete, it is not known if this is due to lost sections of the original, or if Kashifi never addressed futuwwat practice with regard to this profession due to its exclusion in earlier futuwwat nama. 41 However, by the early modern period silk weavers and textile designers were integrated into futuwwat traditions with other artisans, identified by the ‘hand-grip’ of the weaving shuttle. Bringing to light an early-seventeenth-century futuwwat nama connecting silk weavers to the tradition that previously excluded this class of artisans, Nader Sayadi illustrates the striving for social mobility for silk weavers by creating their own origin story in the futuwwat tradition.42 As such, the philosophy of Sufi futuwwat governed business practices in the bazaar between artisans and merchants, following the chivalric principles outlined in occupational futuwwat literature. 43 The relationship between Sufi masters and rising leaders seems to function as an early modern qualifier for sovereignty, as with the founding of the Safavids, who emphasized their dynastic right to power based on their genealogical connection to the Sufi order at Ardabil (Azerbaijan Province, north-western Iran). Naming the dynasty after their ancestor, Shaykh Safi al-Din (d. 1334), the descendants that controlled the shrine expanded the complex and the order over a 150-year period following his death. During the latter half of the fifteenth century, an increasing number of Turkman tribesmen from eastern Anatolia joined the order. Dissatisfied with their Ottoman overlords, they visited Ardabil in large groups, with some remaining at the shrine permanently. These Turkman members of the order were devoted to the Safavid shaykhs and would later form the bulk of the armies that would fight the surrounding Christian populations in Georgia and Shirvan as a form of jihad (‘holy war’). Practicing an extreme form of Shi’ism, these armies may have influenced the change in the order from Sunni to Shi’a beliefs. Divinatory dreams may also 41 The English translation of this work will reference Kashifi, The Royal Book of Spiritual Chivalry (Futūwat Nāmah-yi Sulṭanī), translated by Jay R. Crook. Crook estimates the surviving manuscripts used for his translation to represent approximately two-thirds of the manuscript, which was intended by Kashifi to include an introduction with twelve parts. The seven surviving chapters represent the extant portion; whether the other five parts were unwritten or lost is currently unknown. See Kashifi, The Royal Book of Spiritual Chivalry, xvii-xviii. 42 For a discussion of a seventeenth-century futuwwat nama connecting silk weavers to the futuwwat tradition, see Sayadi, ‘Of Prophets, Caterpillars and Silk,’ 10-11. Sayadi illustrates the striving for social mobility for silk weavers by joining a futuwwat organization. 43 Prior to the development of the role of bashi among the guilds, the responsibility of regulating behaviour was managed by the pishvayan. See Keyvani, ‘Artisans and Guild Life in the Later Safavid Period,’ 95.

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have been influential in this important change. One of these Sufi shaykhs had a dream in which ‘Ali, the intended successor of the Prophet Muhammad in Shi’a belief, appeared to him and described a particular headdress: a red skull cap with a baton-like extension, covered in a beehive-shaped white turban with twelve folds. 44 This headgear was later adopted by the Safavid army as the symbol of Twelver Shi’ism, and its wearers were referenced as ‘Qizilbash’ (Turkish: ‘Red Head’), indicating the Turkman tribes who supported the Safavid shaykhs. 45 The f irst Safavid ruler, Isma’il I (r. 1501-1524), defeated the local Aqqoyunlu power in Tabriz with the support of the Qizilbash, and declared Twelver Shi’ism as the state religion. This aff iliation was signif ied by the visionary headgear which came to be known as the taj Safavi. A modif ied version that does not include the baton seems to have been worn during less formal occasions, called the taj Haydari after Isma’il’s father Haydar, who was reportedly the f irst to have adopted its use. 46 Based on paintings from the Metropolitan Museum Khamsa of Nizami discussed in conjunction with the Khusrau and Shirin silks, variations on the taj Safavi could range from plain white (cotton?) turban wraps to what appears to be compound metal-thread silk brocaded with gold. The vertical baton protruding from the base is depicted in various hues including red, blue, black and gold – a distinction which has yet to be explored thoroughly in the early modern context. As noted in Chapter 2, illustrated manuscripts of Nizami’s Khamsa produced in Safavid Iran depict Khusrau wearing a taj in emulation of the ruling dynasty (see figs 2.1 and 4.1). The taj was a symbol of the wearer’s allegiance to the ruler, as well as signifying his approval. Although this headgear is seen often in painting from the era of Tahmasp, turbans were granted selectively and worn as directed by the shah (shah-dasturi) by royalty and selected high-ranking nobles and clerics, sometimes accompanied by an aigrette indicating additional favour from the sovereign. 44 Canby, Shah ‘Abbas, 15. 45 In brief, Twelver Shi’ism is based upon the premise that ‘Ali is the rightful successor of Prophet Muhammad, and that the male lineage of the next twelve imams end in Muhammad ibn al-Hasan (b. 870), known as ‘Imam al-Mahdi’ (‘The rightly guided one,’ considered the messiah). He was believed to be transported into the celestial realm early in his lifetime (ca. 874) to protect him from his enemies, and followers believe that he would reappear at the appointed time along with Jesus on the Day of Judgement to administer justice. Mahdaviat (‘messianic beliefs’) formed a major element of early Twelver Shi’a philosophy. 46 This is recorded in the f irst-person account by Michel Membré, Venetian envoy to the court of Tahmasp (1539-1542); see Membré, Mission to the Lord Sophy, 26-27. The taj Safavi was in use until the end of Tahmasp’s reign (r. 1524-1576) and redesigned after Shah ‘Abbas I ascended the throne (ca. 1587), from its previously beehive-shaped white wrap and elongated red baton to a wide, colourful wrap with a shorter baton protruding from the centre.

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Figure 4.1: Khusrau Seated on His Throne (detail). Folio from a Khamsa of Nizami. Painting by Shaikh Zada. Calligraphers: Sultan Muhammad Nur; Mahmud Muzahhib. 1524-1525, Safavid Iran. Ink, opaque watercolour, and gold on paper. L: 12 5/8 in. (32.1 cm), W: 8 3/4 in. (22.2 cm). The Metropolitan Museum of Art (13.228.7.4). Gift of Alexander Smith Cochran, 1913.

As with garments, these turban cloths were gifted in various grades of silk according to rank: only the shah and those favoured with a gift from his personal wardrobe could wear a taj made of velvet, which retained the divine glory of his personal

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essence. 47 A first-person account by Venetian envoy Michel Membré records a desperate governor who visited a noble in Qazvin during his visit ca. 1540 and begged for a turban cloth from the shah’s cap – a form of tabarrok (‘blessing’) used as a healing cloth for his ill son. 48 Thus, the material symbols of political power and spiritual authority were fused together in the early modern period through sacred and symbolic garments.

Khirqa: The Cloak of Spiritual Poverty The khirqa derives its name from the Arabic verb kharaqa (‘to tear/rend’). 49 As early as the ninth century, the association with the khirqa as a patched garment – referenced in early Arab sources as moraqqa‘ – became a symbol of the Suf i ascetic, who strove to avoid the excess and ostentation of new garments. By the twelfth century, the khirqa came to be known as the insignia of members of the Suf i orders.50 By the late medieval period, the authority passed from a master to his successor to form the silsila was accomplished quite literally through the transfer of a sacred object such as a cloak or hat, mirroring the Prophetic tradition.51 The patched garment may also be referenced as such because of the spontaneous removal of the cloak during the practice of sama‘, Sufi ceremonies centred around recitation, music and dance. Participation in the sama‘ was integral to Sufi practice as a corporeal process that led to the spiritual state of wajd (‘ecstasy’; literally, ‘finding God’). Dressed in the khirqa at the start of the ceremony, participants often removed these in the midst of performing ritual movements, sometimes rending the garment during the ceremony (i.e. ‘ripping off one’s cloak’).52 The term sama‘ va wajd links participation in the musical performance to this ecstatic state, with the torn or doffed khirqa as a central material object expressing the spiritual transformation.53 47 Ibid., 41. 48 Ibid. 49 Ohlander, ‘Ḵerqa.’ 50 Ibid. 51 The transfer of spiritual authority through the use of a cap (kola-yi eradat) or garment (khirqa-yi eradat) seems to have been the norm among both the Naqshbandi and Chishti Orders. See Paul, ‘The Rise of the Khwajegan-Naqshbandiyya Sufi Order in Timurid Herat,’ 72; also see Potter, ‘Sufis and Sultans,’ 89. 52 These interlaced phenomena are often referenced together during the early modern period as sama‘ va wajd. For an example, see Jahangir, The Tuzuk-i-Jahangiri, I, 172-173. 53 Several medieval treatises reference and/or directly address the issue of the removal of khirqa during sama’; for an early reference to a rent khirqa (referenced here as moraqqa‘), see the eleventh-century text by al-Hujwiri, Kashf al-Mahjub, 123. In the thirteenth century, Suhrawardi also includes successive

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Documented in Suhrawardi’s thirteenth-century Sufi manual ‘Awaref al-Ma’aref, the khirqa in institutionalized Sufism continues the tradition of cloaking a successor or initiate with a symbolic garment. While identifying a successor in the silsila indicates referral of authority by literally cloaking the successor with the garment taken from the shaykh’s shoulders, the garments bestowed upon new members indicate membership within the order. Suhrawardi draws a distinction between two different types: the khirqa-yi eradat (‘cloak of aspiration’), worn by an earnest initiate as an outward symbol of his commitment to his shaykh; and the khirqa-yi tabarrok (‘cloak of blessing’), which represents a general acceptance into the order as a lay member.54 The khirqa-yi eradat was the external symbol of the initiate’s devotion to the mystic path and teaching of his shaykh and was distributed only to sincere seekers; whereas the khirqa-yi tabarrok was more widely distributed to all who requested it, as long as the wearer was willing to follow the behaviour codes indicated in divine law (i.e. the fundamentals of Islam). Medieval sources record the ways in which khirqa-yi tabarrok could be granted. In his Travels, fourteenth century traveler and chronicler Ibn Battuta (1304-1377) documents being granted the robe belonging to the shaykh of a Suhrawardiyya khaneqah in Isfahan while in residence there (ca. 1327), which he considered a blessing. In addition to this honorary khirqa, he was also gifted ‘a fine set of garments’ comprising khil‘at upon his arrival.55 By the early modern period, the garment types and symbolism of the khirqa is definitively laid out in the late-fifteenth/early-sixteenth-century manuscript, the Futuwat Namah-yi Sultani (The royal book of spiritual chivalry), by Husayn Wa‘iz Kashifi (1436/1437-1504/1505), an influential Iranian preacher and writer. Following a divinatory dream, Kashifi travelled to Herat and was initiated as a member of the Khwajegan/Naqshbandi order by Sufi shaykh Jami (poet of the mystic Haft Awrang), settling in Herat ca. 1470. Appointed head of the Sufi khaneqah by the local ruler, Sultan Husayn Bayqara (r. 1469-1506), Kashifi delivered sermons in various locations throughout the city, becoming well known as an independent preacher. He also incorporated the word wa‘iz – which indicates one who gives philosophical/theological lectures – into his title to relay his storytelling skills. Kashifi’s fifteenth-century audience included any interested members of the public, who benefitted from his ability to contextualize topics from Qur’anic verse to hadith. sections on the sama‘ and the khirqa, addressing the specifics of removal of the patched frock during sama‘. See Suhrawardi, Awarifu-l-Ma’arif, 36-38. 54 Ohlander, Sufism in an Age of Transition, 212. The two types of khirqa as described by Al-Suhrawardi is a distinction also corroborated in the Persian Sufi manual Meṣbāḥ al-Hedāya wa Meftāḥ al-Kefāya by Ezz-al-Din-Kashani (d. 1335), a treatise authored almost a hundred years later based on Al-Suhrawadi’s original. See Ajūdānī, ‘‘Ezz-Al-Dīn Kāšānī, Maḥmūd.’ 55 Ibn Battuta, Travels, II, 296-297.

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In addition to his reputation as a great orator, Kashifi was known for authoring more than 40 written works, including a treatise on Persian poetic devices, as well as his definitive treatise on spiritual chivalry, the Futuwat Namah-yi Sultani.56 Following in the tradition of the futuwwat nama, Kashifi’s treatise functioned primarily as a handbook for chivalric behaviour for his followers: a code of ethics derived from ancient Iranian prototypes of javanmardi, with the goal of connecting worldly activity to its spiritual source.57 Kashifi directed a significant portion of his treatise to defining proper behaviour for the craftsmen and other professionals who comprised great numbers within the orders. Analyzing his work, Arley Loewen proposes that these Sufi lay members were perhaps in need of some corrective guidelines for their behaviour, prompting Kashifi’s emphasis on practical matters pertaining to everyday life, including proper dress.58 Kashif i’s book illuminates the early modern importance of the khirqa as a symbolic object. Translated by Jay Crook as the ‘robe of spiritual poverty,’ Kashifi devotes several chapters of his Futuwat Namah-yi Sultani to connecting this material object to its divine origin. Kashifi informs his reader that the first person to wear the khirqa was the Prophet Muhammad, who was clothed in a ‘raiment of light.’59 He then describes the making of a material khirqa by the archangel Gabriel, who presented it to the Prophet on the sacred night of the mi’raj, when Muhammad ascended on a magical steed to the celestial realm. Kashifi describes the garment as being inscribed with invocations to Allah on each sleeve, the collar and the hem, alluding to the divine mysteries.60 Kashifi relates that the Prophet wore the garment for a numerically significant number of days (3, 10 or 40 days; Kashifi claims there are several versions) before bestowing it on ‘Ali, who proved himself most worthy of its reception.61 In Sufi circles, the Prophet’s sacred garment is referenced as ‘Khirqa-yi Sharif’ (‘the Greatest Garment of Spiritual Poverty’). Kashifi further elucidates the requirements and benefits of being cloaked in the khirqa in the following chapter, ‘Concerning the Conditions for Wearing the Robe of Spiritual Poverty.’ Describing the benefits of enrobing the disciple, Kashifi emphasizes three aspects of well-being that are fulfilled by donning the symbolic 56 All references to this work are based on Kashifi, The Royal Book of Spiritual Chivalry. 57 Mahmud Shelton’s introduction in Kashif i, The Royal Book of Spiritual Chivalry, xxi. For a list of medieval works on futuwwat, see Riyaz, Ahwal wa Asar, 328-334, cited in Loewen, ‘Proper Conduct (Adab) Is Everything,’ 543, n. 3. 58 Loewen, ‘Proper Conduct (Adab) Is Everything,’ 546. 59 Kashifi, The Royal Book of Spiritual Chivalry, 148. Kashifi also tells his reader that the symbolism of the external khirqa dates to the girding of Adam with leaves in the garden after he is made aware of his nakedness (see pp. 147-148). 60 For a study of the significance of inscribed clothing in the Safavid, Mughal and Ottoman realms, see Munroe, ‘Wrapped Up.’ 61 Kashifi, The Royal Book of Spiritual Chivalry, 148-149.

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garment. First, he notes that when the disciple wears this external symbol of Sufi devotion, the disciple’s internal self is then cloaked in the ‘garment of righteousness’ – a direct reference to a Qur’anic verse in the sura ‘The Elevated Places’ (7:26). Secondly, Kashifi conveys the relationship between shaykh and disciple as evoking a transformation akin to alchemy, alluding to the transformation of the soul through teaching and purification. Third, this bond is described as being a ‘tie of lasting and continuous love’ that is represented by the khirqa.62 Kashifi further relates the cloak as having significance as a metaphor of the real and false worlds, describing the ‘cloak of continuance’ which is thrown off as a rejection of the illusion of the real world when the ‘cloak of divine majesty’ appears.63 As far as the materiality of the robe itself, Kashifi provides a more comprehensive understanding of the forms that this type of garment may have taken. In a chapter devoted to the colours of the robe, he informs the reader that disciples could choose the hue of their garment, each of which was imbued with symbolism. White, for those with luminous hearts; green, in the tradition of the Prophet Muhammad who favoured this hue; black, for aspirants who hide the treasure of mysteries in their hearts; undyed/natural textiles for the humble; and azure blue, for those advanced in self-awareness who gaze at the sky (see fig. 4.2, in which the darvish wears a blue cloak). Kashifi identifies fourteen different kinds of khirqa worn ca. 1500 when he authors his treatise, each of which is connected to a specific Sufi order. The first is the hazarmikhi, the frock of a thousand stitches, which is derived from an exchange between the Prophet Muhammad and ‘Ali. Kashifi tells us that on his final journey, Muhammad tucked the head of ‘Ali under his robe and spoke with him, and when this conversation was finished ‘Ali’s forehead was covered in perspiration. In reply to the other members of their travelling party who inquired about this, ‘Ali replied that the Prophet had taught him a thousand chapters of knowledge during this short exchange. Following the Prophet’s death, ‘Ali went into seclusion and contemplated the thousand chapters, sewing one stitch for each chapter on his white robe, and thereafter wearing this garment for prayer. This serves as the prototype for the thousand-stitch robe, which Kashifi informs the reader is made with coarse stitches instead of patches (unlike the pieced moraqqa‘ ); an appropriate khirqa for Sufis who have ‘sewn up the cuts of carnality and lust with the needle of disappointment.’64 This style of robe was in use during the fourteenth century as well: the aforementioned robe gifted to Ibn Battuta is specified as hazarmikhi.65 62 Ibid., 152. 63 Ibid., 191. 64 Ibid., 167-168. 65 In reference to his visit to Isfahan, Ibn Battuta describes the khirqa he is gifted with by the shaykh form his personal wardrobe as hazarmikhi (‘thousand-stitched’) (Travels, II, 297).

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Figure 4.2: A Dervish. Attributed to late sixteenth/early seventeenth century, Safavid Iran. Ink, opaque watercolour, and gold on paper. H: 8 3/8 in. (21.3 cm), W: 5 3/8 in. (13.6 cm). Metropolitan Museum of Art (13.228.35). Gift of Alexander Smith Cochran, 1913.

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Kashifi similarly identifies other types of khirqa by describing the material nature of the garment, from its construction to materials, as a metaphor of the spiritual goals of the wearer. In this way, Kashifi assures us that clothing for the aspiring dervish was carefully selected as a symbol for its wearer, as well as a message to viewers who could identify members of Sufi orders by their garments. Kashifi ends this section with an enigmatic reference to those who wear ‘the fashions of the seven colours’ but tells his reader that ‘theirs is another matter.’66 Is it possible that Kashifi leaves open the possibility of wearing a khirqa fashioned from polychromatic figural textiles?

Khamsa Silk as Khirqa? Figural Silks in Islamic Literary Sources This important link between identity and materiality reconnects us to the messages in the Khamsa silks. Considering Khusrau’s chivalric kingship and Majnun’s burning as a lover, the identity embodied by these characters seem to be those in line with the guiding principles of futuwwat/javanmardi. Were these fashioned into a type of khirqa for its Sufi wearers? On the surface, Kashifi does not seem to make this distinction between the khirqa-yi eradat of the devotional Sufi and the khirqa-yi tabarrok of the lay Sufi, as specified in the Suhrawardi tradition. However, in considering the potential link of the Khamsa silks as a type of khirqa, we are thwarted once again by Kashifi’s rules about which materials are appropriate for this symbolic garment. In Chapter 23, ‘Concerning the Material of Which the Dervish’s Robe of Spiritual Poverty Should be Made,’ Kashifi reminds his reader that silk is prohibited for males in Islam, and that wool is the best material to use. Cotton is also acceptable, but not optimal, as it mimics silk and linen in its fineness, but is acceptable when worn in combination with woollen garments. Kashifi expands upon this further in Chapter 37, ‘Concerning the Rules of Dress,’ when he informs his readers of fifteen overall requirements for lawfully wearing clothes, with the first four focused on complying with religious obligations. Kashifi cites the importance of clothing being made and worn according to Islamic law; for men, garments must cover at a minimum the private areas and protect the body from cold and heat. Clothing must be kept clean, which includes keeping it protected from bodily fluids and 66 Kashifi, The Royal Book of Spiritual Chivalry, 161-163. ‘Seven colours’ is a literal translation of haft-rangi, which is the term often referenced to indicate polychromatic or multipatterned in the context of cloth. In other contexts, haft-rangi can refer to having a wide variety, such as sofreh-yi haft-rangi, a buffet of several different kinds of food. The number seven is a holy number in Iranian as well as Islamic symbolism, and thus used often to represent variety.

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other contaminants. The final rule again reiterates that the fabric ‘must not be made of materials prohibited such as silk and brocade.’67 However, it is questionable whether these rules were always followed, and Loewen’s hypothesis for the need of a rule book for early modern Sufis may be visible in extant paintings. In fig. 4.3, dervishes perform sama‘ va wajd in monochromatic robes of unspecified materials. Each participant wears a khirqa in various hues ranging from lilac, rust orange, rose pink and grass green; extra-long sleeves cover hands, a symbol of deference to one’s shaykh. The man in blue at the top (second from right) is already removing his outer cloak as he attains a state of ecstasy, revealing the layers of his ensemble. The brown lining may be undyed wool, perhaps indicating that a luxurious fabric forms the exterior while a ‘humble’ fabric is on the interior – possibly representing the outer and inner selves. This painting is believed to have been brought by Safavid artist Aqa Mirak to the Mughal court, and later altered to remove the taj by Abul Hasan, one of Jahangir’s court artists.68 The migration of the painting and its subsequent alteration are indicative of the universality of Sufi practice in the Persianate world, but also the importance of political identity and allegiance signified through dress. In light of the importance of silk as both commodity and representation of social status in the Islamic World, the prohibition of wearing this prized material is a complex issue. Derived from hadith (Prophetic tradition, not Qur’anic verse), there are several examples that recognize silk as a mark of value and honour, while rejecting the wearing of silk garments as a mark of vanity and temptation. Garments and fabrics often share the same name and are referenced interchangeably in these sources, including certain types of silk, such as siyara (Chinese silk, indicating it may have been patterned), dibaj (pure silk, referenced as brocade), qassi (striped Egyptian fabric containing silk) and istabraq (referenced as satin or fine Egyptian linen).69 In the comprehensive ninth-century collection of hadith by al-Bukhari, Al-Jami al-Salih, the Prophet Muhammad was reportedly given a silk robe by his companion, ‘Umar, who urged him to wear it for Eid celebration and when political delegations came to meet with him. The Prophet rejected the silk robe, claiming that ‘this dress is for those who have no share (in the Hereafter).’70 Despite his critique of dressing in silk, the Prophet subsequently gifted ‘Umar a silk robe; when ‘Umar came to the Prophet and asked why he sent him this forbidden item, Muhammad told him to give it away or sell it. The implication here seems to be that although gifting silk 67 Kashifi, The Royal Book of Spiritual Chivalry, 229. 68 Welch in Welch et al., The Emperor’s Album, 189. Also cited in the object record notes for ‘Dancing Dervishes’ (MMA 55.121.10.18). 69 Stillman, Arab Dress, 22 and 38. 70 Al-Bukhari, Al-Jami al-Salih, 948, Book 13, Hadith 1; also in Book 77, Hadith 58. This sentiment is repeated in Book 77, Hadiths 47-52.

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Figure 4.3:Dancing Dervishes. Folio from the Shah Jahan Album. Mir ‘Ali Haravi (Calligrapher). Ca. 1610, Mughal India. Ink, opaque watercolour, and gold on paper. L: 15 3/16 in. (38.6 cm), W: 10 3/16 in. (25.9 cm). Metropolitan Museum of Art (55.121.10.18). Purchase, Rogers Fund and the Kevorkian Foundation Gift, 1955.

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robes was not prohibited, donning them was haram (‘forbidden’). This example emphasizes the symbolism of gifting a silk honorific garment as a reward and mark of respect, while indicating that it was not intended to be worn by a male recipient. Further supporting this conclusion, in another hadith ‘Ali reports that the Prophet gave him a silk garment (hulla siyara), which he donned proudly, but when he saw a look of anger on Muhammad’s face, ‘Ali cut it into pieces and distributed them among his wives.’71 Muhammad himself reportedly wore garments, even silk ones, for brief periods and sometimes while praying, before gifting them to others in his circle – presumably in order to transfer his divine essence.72 In other hadith, the wearing of silk is deemed admissible in small amounts, measured by the index and forefinger, indicating the amount of embroidery (or perhaps a small piece of fabric),73 but the wearing of silk garments of dibaj, qassi and istabraq are forbidden.74 Additional prohibitions include dyeing fabrics with saffron or wars, as well as using red cushions called mayathir.75 The various schools of thought in Sunni Islam (Hanbali, Hanafi, Maliki and Shafi’i), as well as Shi’a Islam, developed their own interpretations specifying the finer points of the many hadith pertaining to silk. The early Islamic ruling dynasties argued that they needed to present a regal appearance in order to be on par with contemporary non-Muslim rulers in Eurasia. The previously mentioned hadith documenting the offering of a silk robe from ‘Umar to Muhammad is indicative of this, when the companion suggests that the Prophet wear the garment when meeting with various delegations. In such instances, silk was worn for the purpose of ‘impression management,’ the attempt to influence others’ perceptions through external factors such as dress.76 The sixth Shi’a Imam, Ja’far al-Sadeq, is documented in hadith as having worn an outer garment of silk, while wearing scratchy wool undergarments beneath this luxurious exterior (in some traditions, this is a linen garment). When confronted about this practice, Ja’far al-Sadeq explains that ‘finery is for men to behold and the woolen cloak for God; he therefore displays the former and conceals the latter.’77 71 Ibid., 5840, Book 77, Hadith 57. 72 Ibid., 5862, Book 77, Hadith 79. The hadith is narrated by Al-Miswar bin Makhrama, who states that the Prophet received several robes that he was giving away to his brethren; when called, Muhammad exited his abode wearing a dibaj cloak with gold buttons, which he took off and gave to Al-Miswar’s father (Makhrama) as a gift. 73 Ibid., 5828 and 1829, Book 77, Hadiths 45 and 46. 74 Ibid., 5849, Book 77, Hadith 66. 75 Ibid., 5852, Book 77, Hadith 69; and 5863, Book 77, Hadith 80, respectively. 76 The term ‘impression management’ is used by contemporary psychologist Joanne Finkelstein to denote the ways in which external appearance, especially dress, is used to represent ones character and social position. Finkelstein, The Fashioned Self, 66 and 118. 77 Algar, ‘Imam Ja’far al-Sadeq iii. And Sufism.’

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In other words, his goal was to represent the strength and wealth of the newly established Muslim rulers, while also maintaining his inner devotion. The display of images is also a fine point that is much deliberated upon in Islamic jurisprudence based on hadith. Narrated by one of the Prophet’s wives, ʿAʾisha, she reports that Muhammad asked her to remove a curtain with images on it when he saw that she had hung it as a doorway to a chamber. He justifies his disdain by claiming that those who try to make the likeness of Allah’s creation would receive the severest punishment on the Day of Judgement, and that angels do not enter a house with pictures in it.78 ʿAʾisha recalls that the fabric was then made into cushions; it is not specified whether this was a figural cloth with human or animal figures, and whether it was silk or made of another fibre. Another hadith tells us that one of the companions claims that Muhammad made an exception for images in textile designs.79 The contemporary Egyptian Sunni theologian Dr Yousif al-Qaradhawi addressed this particular point in his handbook on jurisprudence, The Lawful and the Prohibited in Islam. Citing hadith discussing gold and silk garments, Qaradhawi clarifies that wearing a mixture of silk and another fibre is permissible for men, reminding his reader that silk and gold are materials used to adorn celestial beings in the afterlife. He also allows for exceptions: quoting hadith, he states that wearing silk in a time of necessity is lawful, as ‘necessity knows no law.’80 The subject of silk seems to have been addressed several times by the Prophet, as documented in multiple reports. Qaradhawi recalls a hadith in which ‘Ali reports that Muhammad took some silk in his right hand and gold in his left, and stated that those two things are haram for men; another hadith states that the Prophet says silk ‘is the dress of a man who has no character.’81 Corroborating the hadith of the companion who inquired about the wearing of silk ‘brocade’ garments (perhaps indicating drawloom-woven figural silks), Qaradhawi states that the Prophet Muhammad replied, ‘There is no matter to do that in the time of war, even if it got [sic] pictures of figures.’82

78 Al-Bukhari, Al-Jami al-Salih, 5954, Book 77, Hadiths 170 and 171. In 170, the story relates that the fabric was torn; in 171, it was simply requested that it be removed and then the fabric was made into cushions. In subsequent hadiths, ‘Aisha reports having bought the cushions, which the Prophet asks her to remove (Hadith 173 and Hadith 177). Later Sunni schools of thought would qualify the permissibility of figural textiles used as cushions, ruling that if the figures were deformed or decapitated it was allowed; but that hanging a figural textile was not allowed. See Baker, Islamic Textiles, 16. 79 Ibid., 5958, Book 77, Hadith 174. 80 Al-Qaradâwi, The Lawful and the Prohibited in Islam, 149. Two of the Prophet’s companions, ‘Abd al-Rahman bin ‘Auf and al-Zubayr bin al-Awwam, were permitted to wear silk due to scabies (p. 151). 81 Ibid., 150. 82 Ibid., 148. In a more abstract sense, one wonders if the daily struggle of Sufis to tame the nafs (‘self’) would constitute a time of war.

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Returning to Kashifi, he presumes the familiarity of his reader with these canonical beliefs and proceeds in Chapter 37 to contextualize garments with several extensions to these rules. In addition to ‘purifying’ garments – meaning to keep them above the ground level to prevent them from getting dirty and worn – Kashifi stresses not owning an abundance of garments of the same type, stating that this lowers one’s level of spiritual chivalry. Additional instructions are very specific as to two major prohibitions: wearing clothing to attract attention, as a form of vanity; and donning clothing with pictures on it. Kashifi addresses this second rule again in the same chapter, clarifying: ‘If it has a pattern in which there are no pictures (of animate creatures), it is lawful.’83 It seems the general implications of donning figural garments indicate that this apparel falls outside the parameters for the Sufi khirqa. Does this still apply if the figures are from narratives frequently referenced in Sufi poetry, and featured in art made by lay members? Regarding the storytellers and fabulists, Kashifi writes of the benefits of reading and listening to stories relating real people and events. First, reading and listening to stories is informative; second, listening to wondrous things is eye-opening for the reader/listener, and this brings one closer to God; third, hearing about the hardship of predecessors reminds readers that they are not alone in experiencing affliction. Most significantly, Kashifi relates that hearing of the rise and fall of kings and their fates reminds Sufis to detach themselves form material goods and the earthly realm.84 Ultimately, Kashifi holds storytellers and the practice of relating of historical narratives such as those in the Khamsa in high esteem, as these present an edifying device relating proper behaviour through the lives and deeds of the historic figures. This begs the question as to whether narrative figural silks would represent an exception to some of the stark rules about dress and material culture in Sufi practice. Considering the complex history of Islamic prohibitions of both silk fibre and figural textiles as garments intended for men, it becomes difficult to ascertain who wore Khamsa silks, despite the mystic messages relayed through the narratives. Assuming that Kashifi’s Futuwat Namah-yi Sultani is written for the earnest disciple, perhaps these restrictions regarding cloth and images apply only to the initiate who has pledged his devotion to a shaykh – meaning there is no reason to believe that the image of either love union would appear on a khirqa-yi eradat. However, what about the lay members of the orders? Are these external supporters and members permitted to wear figural silks as a kind of khirqa-yi tabarrok? Returning to the ideas presented in the section ‘The Gaze and the Body’ in Chapter 2, perhaps Sufi women wore these silks? Based on primary accounts, 83 Kashifi, The Royal Book of Spiritual Chivalry, 229-230. 84 Ibid., 296.

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women were rarely admitted into the khaneqah as full-time initiates and forbidden from joining futuwwat brotherhoods. However, Ridgeon points out that although women could not become members of these all-male organizations, medieval literature reflects a more prominent role for female characters, in which they take on some of the attributes of chivalric practice.85 During the early modern period, women were permitted to participate as lay members in Sufi orders during certain traditional events, as well as offering gifts and endowments. More than 20 per cent of endowments and property sales were donated by women to the shrine at Ardabil in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries.86 Were female lay members granted a khirqa for their service and devotion? Since the many restrictions on silk garments for men do not apply to women, perhaps the donning of a figural Khamsa silk with the image of Layla or Shirin was testament to the importance of the female counterpart of chivalric behaviour and Sufi beliefs.

Enrobed: Khil‘at in the Early Modern Age By the early modern period, the dilemma of presenting a regal appearance in light of the prohibition of silk for men in Islam was cleverly circumvented by the ruling classes by wearing undergarments of linen, cotton or even wool next to the body as a barrier, and overgarments made of silk – a practice based on a Hanbali (Sunni) interpretation. By the late f ifteenth century, the ‘ulema of all four Sunni schools of thought believed that silk mixed with other f ibres was permissible to be worn by men in battle; the Maliki school believed that these blends were permissible at all times. 87 Similarly, the use of gold in textiles for brocade or embroidery seems to have been permitted, as it is not directly worn on the body (as in jewellery) or used directly (as with utensils), both of which continued to be forbidden by the ‘ulema based on the aforementioned hadith. An iridescent fabric referenced ca. 1000 by Ibn Zawluq as buqalimun is said to have been treasured by kings, indicating that both gold and silk were in use by the ruling classes from the medieval period.88 As far as the topic of figural designs in textiles, it seems that the early Islamic rulers favoured the Prophetic exception to this rule discussed in the previous section. In general, the distinction drawn between the permissibility of figural textiles, silks and garments was circumstantial: these were not permissible during 85 Ridgeon, Jawanmardi, 8. 86 Zarinebaf-Shahr, ‘Economic Activities of Safavid Women,’ 251 87 Baker, Islamic Textiles, 16. 88 Ibid., 41.

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times of prayer for laypeople, who could get distracted by the stories depicted.89 In his book Aisha’s Cushion (2012), Jamal Elias states that it is the context, rather than the content, of the images that makes their display permissible or forbidden in Islam.90 For the ‘ulema, religious leaders who were expected to set an example of humility for their congregations, this seems to be prohibited at all times; their dress is consistent with Kashifi’s rules about lawfulness of fibre types and avoidance of animate imagery. Despite the orthodox stance against silk, there was a large population whose relationship to f ine textiles and garments was not entirely regulated by these restrictions. The practice of displaying and gifting garments created a vast market for fine silk fabrics, which included those created for the court and those that could be purchased in the bazaar by those who could afford it; in Della Valle’s report, this includes surplus from the karkhana-i khass.91 Given the production and demand for luxury textiles, Safavid textile workshops were producing a significant amount of luxury silks that were widely disseminated within the court as well as abroad, and metal-thread silks were sent with government representatives to Europe and the Islamic World.92 The Persianate ruling classes – including the Safavids and the Mughals – routinely wore silk garments at state occasions, in addition to presenting silk garments as khil‘at (‘robes of honour’). The khil‘at ultimately represented the mark of approval from the monarch, and the quality of the garment received was reflective of this esteemed value: garments of silk and gold were reserved for the highest-ranking individuals, or those who had performed extraordinary service; cotton or linen garments were gifted to lower ranks. In Safavid Iran, the practice of gifting these robes of honour was documented in both traveller’s accounts and in the royal annals. Described in the early-eighteenth-century manual Tadhkirat al-Muluk (ca. 1725), textiles for the royal household and khil‘at were issued at the beginning of the year, then produced in the local provinces of specialty (such as velvets from Yazd, Ghiyath al-Din’s hometown) and sent to the capital for distribution at Noruz.93 The Tadhkirat al-Muluk further specifies that the garments were tailored in Kashan or Isfahan. When khil‘at consisting of a balapush (or aba) was issued as an oral order from the king, a petition was sent to the Grand Vizir who approved and ordered the garment. The Grand Vizir consulted with experts who assessed the quality 89 This follows the Prophetic tradition recorded in hadith. As narrated by Anas, ‘Aisha had hung a thick curtain with pictures on it, and the Prophet asked her: ‘remove it from my sight, for its pictures are still coming to my mind in my prayers.’ Al-Bukhari, Al-Jami al-Salih, 5959, Book 77, Hadith 175. 90 Elias, Aisha’s Cushion, 2 and 9. 91 Della Valle, Pietro’s Pilgrimage, cited in Floor, The Persian Textile Industry, 87, n. 453. 92 Floor, The Persian Textile Industry, 87, n. 454; also see Mackie, Symbols of Power, 343. 93 Tadhkirat al-Muluk, 50.

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of the ‘precious stuffs,’ determining the worth of the textiles. Once a receipt was written, garments for high-ranking officials fashioned from these silks were then recorded in the annals and kept in the royal treasury, along with garments worn by the king intended to be regifted as special robes of honour.94 In addition to textiles commissioned from independent workshops in major urban weaving centres, the karkhana-i khass (‘royal workshop’) created its own luxury silks with complex patterning that included metal-wrapped threads, such as the Khamsa textiles.95 New clothing was required for the ruler and his entourage several times a year, including Noruz, weddings, and religious Eid celebrations. In keeping with the ancient tradition, the shah also showed his approval at Noruz through the gifting of khila’t to worthy courtiers, military leaders and government employees. By the early modern era these are understood to have been new garments, in addition to those of the monarch’s own wardrobe, which was considerable; Shah Tahmasp at the time of his death in 1576 was in possession of over 30,000 fine silk robes.96 For the shah’s private wardrobe, the cutting and tailoring of these garments was begun at a specific time considered auspicious by court astrologers.97 In addition to his own subjects, the shah would also bestow honour on ambassadors and visitors by granting them khila’t. The higher the status of the recipient, the finer and more elaborate the gift: the finest of these included not only an overcoat or balapush made of figured luxury silk, but also a vest, shirt, trousers and turban, horse trappings, and weaponry inlaid with precious gems.98 A newly appointed government official was granted khil‘at to mark the beginning his post; in turn, officials were required to pay sums (tribute and taxes) upon acceptance of the khil‘at .99 A governor who had fallen out of favour with the king may have been denied khil‘at at Noruz, but if he received the gift the following year it meant he had been restored to his good graces.100 The modern idea that ‘the clothes make the man’ may well be witnessed in the display of khil‘at in the early modern Persianate world. The saying finds its literary equivalent in Persian, ‘Ghorbat bi libas’ (‘Honour is according to dress’) as well as in Arabic, ‘Libas ma yalbasuh abna jinsik’ (‘One wears the clothes befitting to one’s 94 Ibid., 66. 95 Several scholars and curators have alluded to the Khamsa silks – particularly velvets, and those including metal-wrapped threads – to be of royal manufacture or commission. See the introduction and Chapter 1. 96 See Baker, Islamic Textiles, 113. 97 Tadhkirat al-Muluk, 66. 98 Procedures of gift giving in the Safavid court are detailed throughout the Tadhkirat al-Mulk. For more on the history of khil‘at , see Baker, ‘Islamic Honorific Garments.’ 99 Tadhkirat al-Muluk, 81. 100 Baker, ‘Islamic Honorific Garments,’ 26.

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status and companions’).101 Given the opulence of the Khamsa silks, the restrictions of the khirqa-yi eradat, and the role of the khil‘at , the inevitable question arises: for whom are the many variations of the Khamsa silks created? Are these intended for the lay members of the Sufi orders, or for Sufi kings of the early modern era?

Works Cited Ajūdānī, Māšā-Allāh. ‘‘Ezz-Al-Dīn Kāšānī, Maḥmūd.’ In Encyclopædia Iranica, online edition. Last updated: January 20, 2012. https://iranicaonline.org/articles/ezz-al-din-kasani Al-Bukhari. Al-Jami al-Salih. [English translation: Sahīh al-Bukhāri: Book 1-97. https:// archive.org/details/SahihBukhariComplete/] Algar, Hamid. ‘Al-e Aba.’ In Encyclopædia Iranica, online edition. Last updated: May 14, 2014. http://www.iranicaonline.org/articles/al-e-aba-the-family-of-the-cloak-i Algar, Hamid. ‘Imam Ja’far al-Sadeq iii. And Suf ism.’ In Encyclopædia Iranica, online edition. Last updated: December  15, 2012. https://iranicaonline.org/articles/ jafar-al-sadeq-iii-and-sufism Algar, Hamid. ‘The Naqshbandī Order: A Preliminary Survey of Its History and Significance.’ Studia Islamica 44 (1976): 123-152. Al-Qaradâwi, Dr. Yousif. The Lawful and the Prohibited in Islam. Translated by Abbas Jawad Safi. Qum, Iran: Islamic Culture and Relations, 1998. Babayan, Kathryn. Mystics, Messiahs and Monarchs: Cultural Landscapes of Early Modern Iran. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 2002. Baker, Patricia L. ‘A History of Islamic Court Dress in the Middle East.’ DPhil. Diss. University of London, School of Oriental Studies, 1986. Available online at: https://eprints.soas. ac.uk/33676/1/11010439.pdf (accessed February 12, 2022). Baker, Patricia L. ‘Islamic Honorific Garments.’ Costume: The Journal of the Costume Society 25, no. 1 (1991): 25-35. Baker, Patricia L. Islamic Textiles. London: British Museum Press, 1995. Canby, Sheila R. Shah ‘Abbas: The Remaking of Iran. London: British Museum Press, 2009. Chittick, W.C. ‘‘Awāref al-Ma‘āref.’ In Encyclopædia Iranica, online edition. Last updated: August 18, 2011. https://iranicaonline.org/articles/awaref-al-maaref-kind-gifts-of-mysticknowledge-a-classic-work-on-sufism-by-sehab-al-din-abu-hafs-omar-b Clarke, H. Wilberforce, Lieut-Col. ‘Awarifu-l-Ma’arif. Calcutta: Government of India Central Printing Service, 1891. De Bruijn, J.T.P. ‘Kaykāvus b. Eskandar.’ In Encyclopædia Iranica, online edition. Last updated: May 25, 2010. https://www.iranicaonline.org/articles/kaykavus-onsor-maali 101 Ibid., n. 3. Baker transliterates the Persian as ‘khurbat bi-libas’; I have used a more phonetic transliteration.

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Della Valle, Pietro. Pietro’s Pilgrimage. Translated by Winifred Blunt. London: James Barrie, 1953. Elias, Jamal. Aisha’s Cushion: Religious Art, Perception, and Practice in Islam. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 2012. Floor, Willem. The Persian Textile Industry: In Historical Perspective, 1500-1925. Québec: L’Harmattan, 2002. Finkelstein, Joanne. The Fashioned Self. Philadelphia: Temple University Press, 1991. Foltz, Richard. ‘The Central Asian Naqshbandi Connections of the Mughal Emperors.’ Journal of Islamic Studies 7, no. 2 (1996): 229-239. Ibn al-Athir. Kitab al-Kamil fi Tarikh [The book of complete history], Vol. II. Cairo: Bulaq Press, 1301 AH. Ibn Battuta. The Travels of Ibn Battuta, 1325-1354. Translated by H.A.R. Gibb. Cambridge: Hakluyt Society, 1962. Jahangir. The Tuzuk-i-Jahangiri; or Memoirs of Jahangir. Translated by Alexander Rogers and edited by Henry Beveridge. 2 vols.: London, 1909-1914; Delhi, 1968. Jain, Rahul. Mughal Velvets in the Collection of the Calico Museum of Textiles. Ahmedabad: Sarabhai Foundation, 2011. Kashifi Sabzawari, Husayn Waiz. The Royal Book of Spiritual Chivalry (Futūwat Nāmah-yi Sulṭanī). Translated by Jay R. Crook. Chicago: Kazi Books, 2000. Keyvani, Mehdi. ‘Artisans and Guild Life in the Later Safavid Period.’ PhD diss., Durham University. http://etheses.dur.ac.uk/7492/ Lambton, Ann. ‘Pishkash: Present or Tribute?’ Bulletin of the School of Oriental and African Studies, University of London 57, no. 1 (1994): 145-158. Loewen, Arley. ‘Proper Conduct (Adab) Is Everything: The Futuwat Namah-yi Sultani of Husayn Vaiz-i Kashifi.’ Iranian Studies 36, no. 4 (2003): 543-570. Mackie, Louise. Symbols of Power: Luxury Textiles from Islamic Lands, 7th-21st Century. Cleveland: Cleveland Museum of Art; New Haven: Yale University Press, 2015. Membré, Michel. Mission to the Lord Sophy of Persia (1539-1542). Translated by A.J. Morton. London: E.J.W. Gibb Memorial Trust, 1999. Moayyad, H. ‘Aḥmad-E Jām.’ In Encyclopædia Iranica, online edition. Last updated: July 28, 2011. http://www.iranicaonline.org/articles/ahmad-e-jam Mojaddedi, Jawid A. ‘Getting Drunk with Abū Yazīd or Staying Sober with Junayd: The Creation of a Popular Typology of Sufism.’ Bulletin of the School of Oriental and African Studies, University of London 66, no. 1 (2003): 1-13. Munroe, Nazanin Hedayat. ‘Wrapped Up: Talismanic Garments in Early Modern Islamic Culture.’ Journal of Textile Design Research and Practice 7, no. 1 (2019): 4-24. Moroney, Michael. ‘Gift Giving in the Iranian Tradition.’ In Gifts of the Sultan: The Arts of Giving at the Islamic Courts, ed. Linda Komaroff, 33-49. Los Angeles, CA: Los Angeles County Museum of Art, 2011.

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Ohlander, Erik S. ‘Ḵerqa.’ In Encyclopædia Iranica, online edition. Last updated: June 15, 2017. http://www.iranicaonline.org/articles/kerqa-the-sufi-frock Ohlander, Erik S. Sufism in an Age of Transition: Umar Suhrawardi and the Rise of the Islamic Mystic Brotherhoods. Leiden: Brill, 2008. Paul, Jürgen. ‘The Rise of the Khwajegan-Naqshbandiyya Sufi Order in Timurid Herat.’ In Afghanistan’s Islam: From Conversion to Taliban, ed. Nile Green, 71-86. Berkeley: University of California Press, 2017. Potter, Lawrence G. ‘Sufis and Sultans in Post-Mongol Iran.’ Iranian Studies 27, no. 1-4 (1994): 77-102. Riyaz, Muhammad. Ahwal wa Asar wa ash’ar-i Mir Sayyid ‘Ali Hamedani. Islamabad, 1991. Ridgeon, Lloyd. Jawanmardi: A Sufi Code of Honour. Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press, 2011. Saab, Nada. ‘Intoxication in Ṣūfism.’ In Encyclopaedia of Islam, THREE, ed. Kate Fleet, Gudrun Krämer, Denis Matringe, John Nawas and Everett Rowson. https://referenceworks. brillonline.com/entries/encyclopaedia-of-islam-3/*-COM_32500 Sayadi, Nader. ‘Of Prophets, Caterpillars, and Silver: Job and the Origin-story of Sericulture in the Early Modern Islamic World.’ In Hidden Stories/Human Lives: Proceedings of the Textile Society of America 17th Biennial Symposium, October 15-17, 2020. https://digitalcommons. unl.edu/tsaconf/1162/ Schimmel, Annemarie. Mystical Dimensions of Islam. Chapel Hill and London: University of North Carolina Press, 1975. Stillman, Yedida Kalfon. Arab Dress: A Short History from the Dawn of Islam to Modern Times. Leiden: Brill, 2003. Tadhkirat al-Muluk: A Manual of Safavid Administration. Translated by Vladimir Minorsky. Cambridge: W. Heffer and Sons, 1943. Thompson, Jon. ‘Safavid Carpets and Textiles.’ In Hunt for Paradise: Court Arts in Safavid Iran 1501-1576, ed. Jon Thompson and Sheila Canby, 271-318. Milan: Skira, 2003. Welch, Stuart Cary, Annemarie Schimmel, Marie L. Swietocowski and Wheeler M. Thackston. The Emperor’s Album: Images of Mughal India. New York: The Metropolitan Museum of Art, 1987. Zarinebaf-Shahr, Fariba. ‘Economic Activities of Safavid Women in the Shrine-City of Ardabil.’ Iranian Studies, Vol. 31, No. 2 (Spring/Summer, 1998), 247–261.

5.

Mughal Dress and Spirituality: The Age of Sufi Kings Abstract Mughal kingship is discussed as temporal and spiritual power derived from genealogical and political connections with Sufi groups, who migrated to India and popularized Persian culture and literature, including Khamsa poetry. Figural silks from Safavid Iran are analyzed as the inspiration for those made in the royal workshops of the Mughals, who fashion themselves after Iranian kings. Suf i naqshbandan (‘textile designers’) travelled to India seeking patronage and spiritual freedom and, becoming absorbed into the Mughal atelier, transferred their silk design and weaving skills to indigenous craftsmen. Emperors Akbar (r. 1556-1605) and Jahangir (r. 1605-1627) established cosmopolitan courts that emphasized their ties with Sufi leaders, while exploring other faiths. The use of figural silks at the Mughal court brings patronage of the Khamsa silks into consideration. Keywords: Mughal silk velvet, Mughal khil‘at , Layla Majnun silk, Ghiyath al-Din, Mughal jama, Shah Jahan

Among the ruling classes in the Persianate world, what appears as a contradiction to the postmodern mind was a perfectly acceptable early modern concept: to be a humble Sufi and a powerful king simultaneously. Striving to be leaders who set an example for subjects in their respective realms, Mughal and Safavid rulers presented an image that aligned them with the chivalric heroes upon whom futuwwat/javanmardi traditions were based. Throughout the Islamic world, the level of humility expressed by the ruler was dependent on his attire: the pious wore loose-fitting garments made from austere fabrics and patterns, while the more ostentatious metal-ground silks were donned by those who were known as being less observant. The piety of the ruler was therefore expressed through dress, and fashions at court could garner approval or disapproval from local populations. These beliefs were compounded in Mughal India, where local Hindu populations also examined the projected persona of the ruler in the context of their own

Munroe, N.H., Sufi Lovers, Safavid Silks and Early Modern Identity. Amsterdam: Amsterdam University Press, 2023 doi 10.5117/9789463721738_ch05

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relationships with cloth, in which material was a representation of social order and spiritual purity in practice.1 Sufi groups in South Asia also held sway over much of the population, and the connection with these groups was critical to upholding the authority of the ruling dynasty. Therefore, the appearance of the ruler was critical to legitimizing the claim to sovereignty. This chapter studies how dress was utilized by rulers to embody and embolden spiritual and temporal authority. Rulers were expected to present a regal appearance, while also proclaiming humility and piety through actions recorded in public appearance, memoirs, biographies and historiographies. For the monarch himself, the need to present a formidable and wealthy appearance was codified by the use of luxury silks on state occasions; on the other hand, these were materials forbidden by the very religion from which these self-proclaimed divinely appointed leaders derived their authority.

Silk, Sufism and Self-Image at the Mughal Court The Mughal Dynasty was founded in the sixteenth century by Babur, a Central Asian Turk who traced his lineage to the conqueror Timur (r. 1370-1405). The Timurids ruled modern-day Iran, Uzbekistan, Afghanistan, and north-eastern India throughout the fourteenth century, eventually losing much of this territory except a small principality centred around Kabul. As the tribal ruler of the area, Babur recognized that the Uzbeks would prevent westward expansion; therefore, he ventured eastwards with his armies to reconquer the formerly Timurid lands of northern India, succeeding in a decisive victory at Panipat in 1526.2 Soon after taking Agra from the Lodi dynasty, Babur established his new capital near the Jamuna River, where he maintained his seat of power until his death in 1530. Babur retained his Central Asian cultural practices and allies from the region throughout his brief reign in Hindustan, including his close ties with the Sufis at Jam (see Chapter 4).3 His father, ‘Umar Shaykh Mirza, was a disciple of Shaykh Ahrar, who was present at Babur’s birth. 4 Credited with naming the newborn Zahir al-Din Muhammad, Mughal historiography records that this name proved difficult to pronounce for the Chaghatay-speaking Turks, and the child was given 1 Bayly, ‘The Origins of Swadeshi,’ 288-289. 2 Babur writes of this battle in great detail in his memoir known as the Baburnama. See Babur, The Bābur-nāma in English, II, 472. 3 Timur had also cultivated a strong relationship with the Suf is at Jam, and Babur was essentially continuing his tradition. See Potter, ‘Sufis and Sultans,’ 98. 4 Babur, The Bābur-nāma in English, I, xxviii-xxix. Shaykh Ahrar was reportedly also called upon posthumously to assist spiritually in 1529, when Babur was ill with a fever (p. xxix).

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the nickname ‘Babur.’5 Although the shaykh died when Babur was around seven years old, the relationship between the future monarch and his family continued. In his memoirs, known as the Baburnama, the ruler cites a high point of his career as being called upon by Shaykh Ahrar’s son, Khwaja Yahya, to defend Samarkand against the Uzbeks.6 Several members of Ahrar’s extended family also accompanied Babur to India or joined him there.7 Consolidating ties with the spiritual leaders, in 1506 Babur married a descendant of Shaykh Ahmad, Mahim Begum.8 His son Humayun (r. 1530-1540, 1554-1555) would become entwined with this family as well when he married Hamida Begum, another of the shaykh’s descendants.9 Therefore, the mother and wife of the second Mughal emperor Humayun, and the mother of his successor Akbar (r. 1556-1605), were all descended from the Sufi Khwajegan/Naqshbandi order originating in Jam. Genealogical connections between ruling dynasties and dominant spiritual orders would prove to be significant in the presentation of the Mughal rulers as Sufi kings. These included the Naqshbandi 10 and the Chishti, the sect to which Amir Khusrau and his teacher Nizam al-Din Awliya belonged (see Chapter 3).11 The overlapping concept of kingship and sainthood reveals itself in Nizam al-Din’s moniker in multiple historical sources as ‘the king of shaykhs,’ demonstrating the metaphorical concept of kingship within mystic practice.12 The influence yielded by the Sufi groups connected with the court in spiritual and political matters would ultimately serve to legitimize the Mughal dynasty’s spiritual claim to temporal authority as divinely appointed sovereigns.13 This divine sovereignty is alluded to in several Mughal sources, including the memoirs and historiography created by Babur’s successors: Humayun, Akbar and Jahangir. Following Babur’s conquest of Hindustan and his brief reign establishing the dynasty, his eldest son Humayun assumed rule of the north Indian provinces, though this would be interrupted by invasions by Afghan forces as well as rebellion 5 This is a point recorded by Abul Fazl in the Akbarnama; cited in Alam, ‘The Mughals,’ 147. 6 Babur, The Baburnama, 115. 7 Foltz, ‘Central Asian Naqshbandi Connections,’ 230. 8 Potter, ‘Sufis and Sultans,’ 85. 9 Gulbadan Begum, History of Humayun, 150-151. Gulbadan Begum’s version of Humayun and Hamida’s courtship reveals the reticence of the young princess to marry the Mughal monarch, and how her mother, Gulbadan Begum (another of Babur’s wives) convinced her to let him woo her. The translator, Annette Susannah Beveridge, notes that, at the time, Gulbadan was 14 years old and Humayun was a man of 33 who already had other wives (p. 150, n. 1). 10 Foltz, ‘Central Asian Naqshbandi Connections,’ 231. 11 Potter, ‘Sufis and Sultans,’ 87. 12 Digby, ‘The Sufi Shaykh and the Sultan,’ 71, n. 3. 13 The Sufi shaykhs arguably held the reins of power in Central Asia; see Foltz, ‘Central Asian Naqshbandi Connections,’ 230; and Potter, ‘Sufis and Sultans,’ 85.

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from his own brothers. The early part of Humayun’s reign is documented by his Iranian Khorasani chronicler, Khwandamir, in Qanun-i Humayun (completed in 1534). Working in service of the court, Khwandamir created the work during the early years of Humayun’s reign. Humayun’s life was also chronicled in the posthumous biography Ahval-i Humayun, penned by his sister, Gulbadan Begum, as well as other historical works that were not commissioned directly by the ruler.14 However, Khwandamir’s account can be viewed as the one most closely aligned with what the ruler would have deemed significant about his character and reign as it was sanctioned by the monarch himself. Khwandamir’s carefully crafted historiography established Humayun in his dual role as warrior-king and divine sovereign by connecting him with great kings of the past. He compared his patron to the rulers in Nizami’s Khamsa, including the Sasanian Khusrau Parviz and his grandfather Khusrau Anushirvan codified in ‘Khusrau and Shirin,’ as well as Alexander the Macedonian of the ‘Iskandarnama.’ Humayun was also connected with his descendancy from Timur with the title ‘Sahib Qiran’ (‘The lord of conjunction’), also used by his legendary ancestor.15 The connection with Timur establishes Humayun in the line of the Central Asian dynasty who previously ruled parts of Hindustan, therefore creating a sense that north India was being rightfully reclaimed, rather than occupied, by Mughal forces. The divinity of the monarch is established through both his lineage and his character. Regarding Humayun’s relationship with the Sufis to whom he is connected by kinship and faith, Khwandamir writes: He honored and respected the great sayyids and noble Shaikhs [sic], who are the fruits of the gardens of friendship (with God), and the stars of the heaven of guidance; and opened for them the gates of generosity and guidance.16

This dual identity, as king upholding the tradition of righteous sovereignty and pious ruler showing deference towards Sufi shaykhs, were the definitive aspects of Mughal dynastic rulers, expressed in material representations of their identity, including clothing. As such, successive emperors Akbar, Jahangir and Jahan were carefully staged in a mélange of portraits in which they are depicted at court wearing and gifting sumptuous silks, alternately with those in which they wore the white garments of pilgrims, a topic forthcoming in this chapter.17 14 This includes Tazkira-yi Humayun va Akbar by Bayezid Bayat, completed in 1590-1591. 15 Khwandamir, Qanun-i Humayun, 10. 16 Ibid., 20. 17 For an example of Jahangir in what appears to be a lampas silk garment adorned with butterflies, see the previously referenced painting ‘Jahangir with Shayista Khan and Asaf Khan’ from the Shah Jahan Album, ca. 1650, at the Freer Gallery of Art and Arthur M. Sackler Gallery, Smithsonian National Museum

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Within his court, Humayun granted garments and seven-layered caps of honour to his courtiers, with colour indicating their rank and profession – a classic example of khil‘at being distributed to indicate status, a practice continued by Humayun’s successors. A great bibliophile who was trained in Persian literature, Humayun adopted the idea of colour-coding his court from another of Nizami’s epics: ‘Haft Paykar’ (‘Seven beauties’), in which the Sasanian king Bahram Gur unites with seven princesses in monochromatic pavilions corresponding with celestial bodies, on each of the seven days of the week.18 Humayun was so intent on recreating his court in the style of Nizami’s regal protagonist that he also arranges for his own wardrobe to match those of Bahram Gur on the days of the week as told in the narrative: black on Saturday, yellow on Sunday, green on Monday, red on Tuesday, turquoise on Wednesday, and sandalwood brown on Thursday, culminating in the purity of white on Fridays.19 Despite the establishment of an opulent and polychromatic court, in 1540 Humayun lost control of his territory in the subcontinent at the hands of his rival, Sher Afghan. He sought refuge at the Safavid court of Shah Tahmasp in 1544 with his Iranian wife Hamida Banu, leaving behind their young son Akbar (b. 1542).20 Humayun was greeted by Safavid royalty at Surloq (pastures outside Qazvin) with great pomp and circumstance, where the two rulers were absorbed in sohbat (‘mystical discussions’) before engaging in hunting and feasting.21 The Mughal ruler gifted two rubies and a large diamond to the Safavid shah, and in turn was granted khil‘at consisting of silk robes, bejewelled belts, silk textiles, animal trappings, weapons, armour and equipment for his entourage; his retinue received the finest silk robes and money.22 Following this favourable encounter, Tahmasp agreed to of Asian Art (S1986.407). For a contrasting image of Jahangir in a plain white jama of what appears to be cotton, see the painting by Bichitr, ‘Jahangir Preferring a Sufi Shaykh to Kings,’ Smithsonian National Museum of Asian Art (F1942.15a). See Houghteling, ‘The Emperor’s Humbler Clothes,’ for an examination of dress as humility in portraiture. 18 In the medieval era of Nizami, the seven ‘planets’ were actually heavenly bodies. Corresponding with the seven days of the week, beginning Saturday: Saturn, the sun, the moon, Mars, Mercury, Jupiter, and Venus. I presented my preliminary findings on Humayun’s practice of wearing and assigning colour-coded garments at the biennial conference of the Centre Internationale d’Etude des Textiles Anciens (CIETA) in Krefeld, Germany (October 2019). 19 Khwandamir, Qanun-i Humayun, 52-53. 20 Hamida Banu was from Khorasan, a north-eastern province of Greater Iran. 21 Monshi, History of Shah ‘Abbas, I, 164. The expression used by Savory regarding the two rulers is that they ‘held private conversations every day.’ The arrival and ceremonial reception for the ruler and his entourage are vividly described more than half a century later in this Safavid historiography (pp. 161-164). The asylum granted by Tahmasp to Humayun is a renowned historical event upon which Iranians pride themselves. The Chehel Sutoon garden pavilion in Isfahan depicts this event in a fresco dated ca. 1647; see Babaie, Isfahan and Its Palaces, 194-195. 22 Ibid.

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assist Humayun with the recapture of his lands from his rivals, on the condition that Humayun convert to Shi’ism.23 Educated in Persian literature as well as the sciences, Humayun and Hamida Banu expressed a desire to visit the capital at Tabriz, to peruse the royal kitab khana at the Safavid court.24 From the 1530s, Tahmasp’s attentions shifted away from patronage of the book arts to statecraft and piety, while Humayun’s interest in the literary and visual arts were expanding.25 Therefore the Safavid ruler readily agreed to send two of the masters from his painting karkhana, Mir Sayyid ‘Ali and Abd as-Samad, to depart for newly regained Mughal territory, in return for a thousand tuman, a large sum.26 These Safavid masters, along with the Indian painters Daswanth, Basawan and others, would eventually fuse the Herat style of Persian painting with Hindu painting styles at the Mughal court during the latter half of the sixteenth century.27 Humayun’s sudden death in 1556, only a year after regaining his territory in India, resulted in his commission of only one poet’s manuscript: two copies of Nizami’s Khamsa, illustrated in the canonical Persian style of painting established in Herat.28 The Mughal painting style would reach its mature stage during the latter half of the reign of Humayun’s son and successor, Akbar (r. 1556-1605), exemplified by illustrated manuscripts produced in the royal kitab khana. These included illustrated manuscripts of the Khamsa of Nizami (completed in 1595) and the Khamsa of Amir Khusrau (completed in 1597-1598), indicating an intergenerational fascination with Nizami’s narrative themes and javab-gui by the Indian-born Amir Khusrau. Akbar’s long reign focused on unifying the largely Hindu indigenous population in India with the Central Asian heritage of the Mughal rulers. He undertook a series 23 Seyller, ‘Pearls of the Parrot of India,’ 26. 24 Hamida Banu’s interest in and acquisition of several Persian illustrated manuscripts, including the famous Gulistan of Sa’di commissioned by Sultan Husayn Bayqara (r. 1470-1506), is indicated by notations in the manuscript, which was inherited by her son and added to the Mughal royal kitab khana. Soudavar suggests these acquisitions were meant to emphasize and honour Humayun’s Timurid lineage. See Soudavar, ‘Between the Safavids and the Mughals,’ 49 and n. 3. 25 Tahmasp’s lack of interest in book patronage was, according to Qadi Ahmad’s early-seventeenth-century treatise on the arts, due preoccupation with state affairs. Canby posits that Tahmasp’s failing eyesight in the 1530s may also have been a factor, as well as a renewed interest in piety, evidenced by the Edict of Repentance (1534). See Canby, ‘The World of the Early Safavids,’ 18-19. 26 Soudavar’s reading of two different primary accounts differ as to whether the aging Mir Musavvir was initially chosen instead of his promising young son, Mir Sayyid ‘Ali; Soudavar indicates that the elder painter, who was ‘disgraced’ and had been dismissed from employment at the royal workshop, was invited first as an act of respect, but that the son pursued the opportunity instead. Mir Musavvir later joined his son at the Mughal court. See Soudavar, ‘Between the Safavids and the Mughals,’ 50. 27 For Abul Fazl’s account of painters at the Mughal court during the reign of Akbar, see ‘Allami, A’in-i Akbari, I, A’in 34, ‘The Arts of Writing and Painting.’ 28 Seyller, ‘Pearls of the Parrot of India,’ 26.

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of political moves to bring about this unity, marrying a Rajput princess who would be the mother of his heir and successor, Jahangir (r. 1605-1627). Also among Akbar’s goals was the concern with representing himself as the ‘millennial sovereign,’ a concept drawn from the Islamic concept of a mahdi (‘messiah’ or ‘saviour’) who would resolve strife in the world through just rule for a thousand lunar years after the religion was founded (1591-1592). This concept is thoroughly discussed by A. Azfar Moin in The Millennial Sovereign, who points out that ‘in the post-Mongol centuries, the institution of kingship became locked in a mimetic embrace with the institution of sainthood.’29 At the Mughal court, this was accomplished through Akbar’s self-fashioning as a Sufi murshid who styled the nobility as his spiritual disciples, creating a universal religion later known as Din-i Illahi (Religion of God) meant to invoke sulh-i kull (‘universal peace’). Akbar regularly held majalis (‘gatherings’) at court from the 1570s onward, initially including only Sunni clerics in his discussions and focusing on the interpretation of Islamic law. As his interest in mysticism grew, the gatherings were populated with other religious participants, including Shi’a Muslims, Jews, Zoroastrians, Christians and Hindus.30 This tradition of holding majalis with a heterogenous group of attendees would continue during the early years of Jahangir’s reign (1608-1611). The ruler strove to present himself as inclusive of – but also superior to – a cosmopolitan imperial elite which included clerics, saints, ambassadors, poets and dignitaries from Iran and Central Asia, as documented by the chronicler Lahawri.31 On more than one occasion, the ruler engaged a learned scholar in a peer discussion, only to humiliate and subordinate him at the end of the session. Such was the case of Iranian émigré poet Naziri, who was called upon by the monarch to assist in writing a poetic response to a letter from Shah ‘Abbas and subsequently mocked for his verses, which Jahangir deemed inappropriate and, as Lefèvre notes, demonstrated Naziri’s ‘lack of sensitivity for Indian aesthetics.’32 Part of the identifying ‘divinity’ of the messianic saviour was the embodiment of knowledge on a wide variety of subjects, from religion and literature to visual and mechanical arts. Akbar’s own predilection for the mechanical arts and engineering prompted the patronage of both technology and the decorative arts, and his karkhanajat (pl. ‘workshops’) employed the best craftsmen from Iran, Central Asia and South Asia.33 The majority of the craftsmen attracted to the Mughal 29 Moin, The Millennial Sovereign, 5. 30 Seyller, ‘Pearls of the Parrot of India,’ 28. 31 Lefèvre, ‘The Majālis-i Jahāngīrī (1608-11),’ 259. 32 Ibid., 264. 33 For an account of Akbar’s interest in technology, see Habib, ‘Akbar and Technology.’ For more information on the migration of craftsmen from Iran to India, see Subrahmanyam, ‘Iranians Abroad,’ and Overton, Iran and the Deccan. Overton addresses Iranian artistic forms utilized in the Deccan, but he

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court were practicing forms of Sufism that had been oppressed by the Safavid shahs from the mid-sixteenth century, who sought greater freedom of belief in Akbar’s India.34 Akbar’s patronage in the visual arts included expanding the domestic silk industry and encouraging the fusion of Muslim and Hindu clothing styles, in which he took a particular interest. This active participation in fashion is documented in many detailed accounts of clothing during Akbar’s reign by his vizier and chronicler, Abul Fazl ‘Allami, in the Akbarnama (Chronicles of Akbar).35 In part this was a practical issue, as the Persian and Central Asian costumes of his ancestors were not suited to the tropical climate of the Indian subcontinent; this also may have been a political move to integrate better with the local rulers of Hindu courts. For example, he introduced the chakdar jama into his court, a type of unlined wrap-around overcoat with side slits worn by men in India since the medieval era. To formalize this garment, Akbar had the slits on the side removed, redesigned the skirt to have a full asymmetrical hem, and placed the fastening ties on the right for Muslim men, and on the left for Hindus.36 Several existing garments were also given romanticized names, which did not trickle down to the common populace and disappeared after Akbar’s reign was concluded.37 One notable change included the renaming of izar (‘drawers’ or ‘undergarments’) to yar pirahan (‘clothing of the friends’), which held a distinctively Sufi futuwwat reference (see Chapter 4).38 Akbar established royal karkhanajat in Fatehpur Sikri, Agra, Lahore and Ahmedabad to produce textiles for the court, similar to the system set up by the Safavids in Iran.39 The workshops are documented as having a large number of artists who

does not include a chapter on textiles; however, it is also possible that this type of luxury silk may have been produced in the Deccan. 34 The discussion of potential reattribution of the Khamsa silks as a result of textile specialist migration was presented at the Textile Society of America (2020); see Munroe, ‘Shared Provenance’; also see Munroe, ‘Master Craftsmen in Migration.’ 35 This monumental work in three volumes documents the Mughal realm under the leadership of Akbar, written towards the end of his reign between 1596 and 1604. The first volume informs the reader of Akbar’s ancestral history, tracing his Central Asian lineage to Timur. The second volume records the administrative legacy of Akbar’s reign from its beginning in 1556 to the 46th regnal year, 1602-1603. The translation of the third volume of the Akbarnama used in this study is ‘Allami, The A’in-i Akbari. The A’in-i Akbari lists types of dress and all types of cloth used in the royal court, as well as Akbar’s names for them (I, A’in 31 and 32). 36 For an illustration of Hindu and Muslim jama styles, see Kumar and Muscat, Costumes and Textiles of Royal India, 39. 37 Ibid. 38 ‘Allami, A’in-i Akbari, I, A’in 31, ‘The Wardrobe and the Stores for the Mattresses.’ 39 Ibid.

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migrated from Iran and Central Asia to India, in addition to indigenous craftsmen.40 The majority of luxury silk weaving in the sixteenth and early seventeenth centuries took place in the royal karkhana, under the supervision of a Safavid master and several workers, who worked on site to produce textiles for use at court. 41 Textiles were used for furnishings, including tent interiors, cushions, floor cloths used for feasts (sofreh), and clothing. The vast number of garments produced included the ruler and his entourage, as well as inhabitants of the zenana, the enclosure housing women who were related or married to the ruling family (known popularly as the harem). In addition to textiles being woven for the royal family, the granting of large numbers of khil‘at is documented as early as 1528, during the reign of Babur.42 The tradition of gifting garments as a form of waqf (‘religious donation’) continued into the time of Akbar, who is documented on one occasion as bestowing 12,000 robes to the nobleman in charge of the annual hajj to distribute among pilgrims. 43 In the Iranian tradition, khil‘at were also distributed as a sign of approval from the shah to courtiers, military leaders, and foreign ambassadors. On select occasions, even former adversaries received textiles from the court, but its significance was altered: an illustrated Akbarnama contains a painting ca. 1596-1600 depicting the granting of khil‘at from Mun’im Khan to Da’ud, the Afghan rebel who was defeated by Mughal forces. In this context, the defeated enemy dons his khil‘at as a symbolic gesture of submission. 44 Diplomatic embassies that travelled from Europe to the Islamic world, as well as between Islamic courts in the early seventeenth century, required an increase in the production of luxury textiles to create the grandeur required for the reception of esteemed visitors and the granting of khil‘at . 45 As with court dress of the Safavids, iconography for silk textiles in Mughal court dress includes both floral and figural designs. Textile designs for garments are documented in several contemporary paintings, such as ‘Jahangir with Asaf Khan and Shayista 40 Subrahmanyam describes ‘waves of migration’ of Iranian and Central Asian elites, including craftsmen; see ‘Iranians Abroad,’ 341-342. 41 See Dye, ‘Fabrics, Carpets and Costumes,’ 171-172. 42 See Crill, Fabric of India, 103-104. 43 Although the type of cloth is not specified here, the 12,000 robes for pilgrims were likely not high-end figural silks; however, the importance of large numbers of garments given as gifts retains its significance here. 44 See ‘Da’ud Receives a Robe of Honor from Mun’im Khan’ from an Akbarnama, attributed to Hiranand, Mughal dynasty, Reign of Akbar, ca. 1596-1600. Smithsonian National Museum of Asian Art (F1952.31). View online at: https://asia.si.edu/object/F1952.31/. For a colour reproduction, see Beach, The Imperial Image, 75, cat. no. 10f. 45 Crill, Fabric of India, 7-8. The granting of khil‘at to distinguished visitors is also depicted in an illustration from the Akbarnama in the same publication (p. 8, pl. 3).

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Khan’ in the Shah Jahan Album: primarily small-scale florals and other delicate naturalistic patterns. 46 However, examples of figural silks in the royal wardrobe also exist. 47 One example lies in the Bikaner coat, a garment fashioned from figural silk into a three-quarter length jacket and presented to Maharaja Rai Singh of Bikaner by his son-in-law, the future emperor Jahangir, in 1596. 48 In Costumes and Textiles of Royal India, Ritu Kumar states that the silk ‘was probably woven in the Shah of Persia’s royal workshops’49; however, the garment has more recently been attributed to Mughal manufacture.50 A letter accompanying the gift states that the garment was a ‘private cloak,’ suggesting that Jahangir wore it before regifting the silk jama to his father-in-law.51 The coat was displayed at the Ganga Golden Jubilee Museum in Bikaner in the 1960s and is now much faded; viewers would have seen brilliant red, blue and green brocaded with pink, orange and metal-wrapped threads. Though the garment is now faded, details of the exquisite weaving show male and female figures, with verses of Persian poetry in Nasta’liq calligraphy between the figures, declaring: ‘It is as if life has been blown into this image.’52 The poetry infers two things supporting the function of figural silk as personal identity: that the mimetic woven image has the power to bring the figures to life; and that the wearer embodies those personalities by donning the figural silk coat. Arranged in vertical registers, the figures are staggered and depicted at a cropped view of the head and shoulders, encircled by flowering sprigs. The male appears without a turban and with dishevelled hair, perhaps indicating a state of yearning, as seen with depictions of a solitary Majnun in the wilderness. The female wears a small chahar-qad head covering similar to those depicted in sixteenth-century Safavid paintings. Despite the date documenting the coat as a gift in 1596, the textile itself is given a date of manufacture of 1570-1580, perhaps dated as such due to the similarity of the figural renderings to the Aqa Mirak school of painting. Although the silk may have been a gift or import to the Mughal court, this is possibly the work of Safavid weavers who migrated to the realm to work in the royal workshops of 46 See ‘Jahangir with Shayista Khan,’ Smithsonian National Museum of Asian Art (S1986.407). View online at: https://asia.si.edu/object/S1986.407/. 47 Depictions of f igural silks as garments do appear in Mughal paintings of the late sixteenth and seventeenth centuries and will be discussed in detail in Chapter 6. 48 Goetz give this date as November 1596; in Houghteling, it is listed as November 1597. See Goetz, The Art and Architecture of the Bikaner State, 122-123; and Houghteling, ‘Sentiment in Silks,’ 142-143. 49 Kumar and Muscat, Costumes and Textiles of Royal India, 40-41. For a colour reproduction with detail, see p. 41. 50 Houghteling, ‘Sentiment in Silks,’ 141. 51 Ibid., 143. 52 Translation by M. Ghouchani, cited in Houghteling, ‘Sentiment in Silks,’ 144, n. 66.

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India; or alternately, by an independent Safavid naqshband residing in India, who may have transported the naqsheh for figural silk production.53 Considering the restrictions of imagery on silks and Mughal self-fashioning as Sufi saint and king for the public, the appearance of royalty wearing figural silk garments in imperial portraiture is rare. The well-known hadiths prohibiting silk and gold in menswear and the display of animate images (discussed in Chapter 4) would have demonstrated a deliberate flouting of Islamic law, causing Sufi kings to lose credibility as the spiritual and temporal leaders of the realm. This point is further verified in the A’in-i Akbari of the official historiography. Regarding Akbar’s wardrobe, Abul Fazl informs readers: It would take me too long to describe the chírahs, fauṭahs, and dupattahs, or the costly dresses worn at feasts or presented to the grandees of the present time. Every season, there are made one thousand complete suits for the imperial wardrobe, and one hundred and twenty, made up in twelve bundles, are always kept in readiness. From his indifference to every thing that is worldly, His Majesty prefers and wears woollen stuffs, especially shawls; and I must mention, as a most curious sign of auspiciousness, that His Majesty’s clothes becomingly fit every one whether he be tall or short, a fact which has hitherto puzzled many.54

While having ‘one thousand suits’ presents an abundance clearly frowned upon in the futuwwat nama of Kashifi and his predecessors, Abul Fazl offsets this somewhat by demonstrating the monarch’s generosity, noting that ‘costly dresses’ are presented as khil‘at to the grandees of the court. By distributing sumptuous silk to his courtiers, Akbar demonstrates the messianic attribute of generosity and the farr of kingship, while the historiographer adds to the ruler’s divine attributes by noting that his clothes magically fit all its recipients. In stating the monarch’s preference for wool, Abul Fazl connects Akbar again with the fibre type preferred for the khirqa of Sufi aspirants. In essence, these rulers seek to embody the concept of khalvat dar anjuman: they live surrounded by luxurious material goods without being attached to them. The display of cotton garments also plays a political role in the self-fashioning of Mughal kings as the legitimate and magnanimous rulers of the realm. Earlyseventeenth-century portraits of Mughal monarchs depict them wearing non-figural silks or lightweight white (presumably cotton) jamas as a display of piety and to show support for local cotton weavers.55 This was true even when the ruler was 53 I am grateful to Carol Bier for suggesting this, based on her visit to India in 2020; personal correspondence, December 2021. Also see Barrett et al., ‘India in Situ,’ 11. 54 ‘Allami, A’in-i Akbari, A’in 31, ‘The Wardrobe and the Stores for the Mattresses.’ 55 Houghteling, ‘The Emperor’s Humbler Clothes,’ 100.

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surrounded by opulent, brightly coloured silks prized in the Persianate world – a tradition that began with Akbar and continued through the reigns of Jahangir and Jahan. One well-known example is seen in its full context in the painting, ‘Emperor Jahangir Preferring a Sufi Sheikh [sic] to a King’ by Bichitr (ca. 1615-1618). The portrait depicts the ruler leaning on a silk metal-thread bolster adorned in jewels wearing a near-translucent white (cotton) jama. He hands a book to Husain, Chishti shaykh of Ajmer, situated in the upper left corner of the painting, while the opulently dressed Ottoman sultan and English king James I are unacknowledged by the Sufi king.56 In the author’s view, the painting symbolizes Jahangir’s inner darvish, who shares knowledge with a renowned holy man rather than vying for power on the global stage. The backdrop of the painting is created by an ornate Persian rug flattened against the lower half of the picture plane, while behind the ruler a fiery golden halo is encircled by a sun in a turquoise blue sky with flying putti (‘baby angels’). The Mughal monarch is seated on a gilded hourglass beset with jewels and enamel befitting his regal status, demonstrating his philosophical awareness of the fleeting nature of time and earthly existence amidst his responsibility to rule his wealthy empire in a manner that materially benefits its citizens. Seventeenth-century imperial portraiture emphasizes this dualistic relationship with material culture. Jahangir granted fine silks and other luxury objects to his own sons to signify approval, as seen in the painting ‘Jahangir Weighing His Son Khurram in Gold,’ an illustration of a passage from the Jahangirnama entry dated 1607. The young prince (the future Shah Jahan) sits atop a large scale on his fifteenth birthday as the ruler weighs him with bags of precious metals, which would be distributed among the court and the populace. On the vacant throne behind the prince is what appears to be a large bolt of floral silk with red tulips (or perhaps lilies) and pink peonies on a gold ground, and beneath the prince’s feet a rug with figural designs of women in Indian dress dance festively. The monarch wears a semi-translucent white jama that reveals patterned (silk?) trousers underneath, while his son wears his jama over a gold brocaded vest and green and gold trousers, adorned in pearl, ruby and emerald necklaces.57 56 This painting is at the Smithsonian National Museum of Asian Art (F1942.15a). View online at: https:// asia.si.edu/object/F1942.15a/. It is notable that the shaykh holds out the skirt of his khirqa to receive the gift. The painting has been discussed in several publications, most recently in Houghteling, ‘Sentiment in Silks,’ 136-137; and Singh, Real Birds in Imagined Gardens, 63-66. These two authors differ on the identity of the Ottoman Sultan, which Houghteling names as Bayazid I (defeated by Timur) (p. 136); whereas Singh references the figure of the Ottoman sultan ‘as-yet-unidentified,’ and the Chishti shaykh as ‘Hasan’ (p. 65). 57 See ‘Emperor Jahangir Weighing His Son Khurram in Gold,’ attributed to Manohar, ca. 16151625; British Museum (1948,1009,0.69). View online at: https://www.britishmuseum.org/collection/ object/W_1948-1009-0-69.

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Figure 5.1: The Emperor Shah Jahan with His Son Dara Shikoh (with detail). Folio from the Shah Jahan Album. Painting by Nanha. Ca. 1620, attributed to Mughal India. Ink, opaque watercolour, and gold on paper. L: 15 5/16 in. (38.9 cm), W: 10 5/16 in. (26.2 cm). Metropolitan Museum of Art (55.121.10.36). Purchase, Rogers Fund and the Kevorkian Foundation Gift, 1955.

The royal family continued to be documented in several paintings wearing simplified dress amidst the presence of jewels and silks. In fig. 5.1, a painting of Shah Jahan (r. 1628-1658) dated several years prior to his accession to the throne depicts him with his eldest son, holding a plate of jewels and offering him a large ruby. Jahan is resting against a bolster which appears to be made of drawloom

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woven silk, depicting male f igures holding wine bottles in a garden setting. Although the catalogue entry for this work states that ‘[a] splendid bolster is covered in brilliantly coloured Safavid figural brocade,’ based on the iconography it seems more likely that this is figural silk created locally for use at court. The wine drinkers wear turbans closely resembling the more form-f itting style of the Mughals, rather than wearing the wider style with shortened baton popular in contemporary Safavid Iran (see fig. 3.5, in which Yusuf wears an ‘Abbasi style turban). The seemingly undyed jama worn by Shah Jahan is embroidered at the collar of the crossover section of the bodice, while the translucency of the bottom half reveals fuchsia pants or lining. The painter, Nanha, has incorporated jewels and rich f igural silk to indicate the sumptuousness of the court, while also maintaining the inner darvish of the Sufi royal, soon to be spiritual ruler of the Mughal realm. Considering the accuracy with which Mughal court painters Bichitr and Nanha depicted luxury objects in their world, it is reasonable to assume that this is a realistic depiction of an actual textile, rather than a visual metaphor sometimes employed by painters.58

Figural Silks from Mughal Manufactories Despite the careful formulation of imperial portraiture, much of this presentation was likely a form of propaganda intended to legitimize and memorialize the ruling dynasty by presenting an image of saintliness through subdued dress. In everyday life silk garments still seemed to be in use, and the monarch’s extensive wardrobe and use of opulent materials became a source of contention, as evidenced by the reproval of the Mughal elites by their critics. One such example is evident in the historiography of Sunni shaykh Abd al-Qader Bada’uni (d. 1615). Appointed by Akbar ca. 1575, Bada’uni was a favourite of Akbar until Abul Fazl came to court, becoming Akbar’s confidante and chronicler. Encouraged by Abul Fazl, Akbar moved towards a more inclusive religious policy with his universalist Din-i Illahi, and the conservative Bada’uni fell from favour. 58 There is a small subset of images in Persian painting dated to the late sixteenth and early seventeenth centuries that include composite f igural imagery, sometimes represented as clothing that covers the body of the subject. For examples, see ‘Seated Princess’ at the Smithsonian National Museum of Asian Art (S1986.309) and ‘Man Reading’ by Muhammad Sharif Musavvir and Muraq Samarqandi at the Louvre (OA 7109), once facing pages that formed the frontispiece of a book of Persian poetry (Uzbekistan, ca. 1600). Though the male and female figures seem to be clothed in figural garments, the composite design does not reflect any extant examples; this stylistic rendering may be an enigmatic metaphor, yet to be deciphered by scholars.

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Although his employment by the monarch continued, Bada’uni went on to become Akbar’s harshest critic, immortalized in his Persian-language work Muntakhab al-Tawarikh (Selection from history), a work so controversial in its time that it was only published posthumously.59 With regard to what he viewed as Akbar’s corruption and move away from true Islam, Bada’uni notes: ‘The wearing of gold and silk dresses [at prayer time] was made obligatory,’60 indicating that Akbar had created a royal farman in opposition to shari’a – not only allowing, but requiring Muslims to wear metal-thread silks at prayer, when it would have been most offensive. Was Akbar creating demand for a local luxury silk industry? According to their own records, the Mughals had attracted so much creative talent from the Persianate realm that they were producing their own luxury silks by the end of the sixteenth century – a point that Abul Fazl stresses in the A’in-i Akbari when discussing textile production: Skilful [sic] masters and workmen have settled in this country, to teach people an improved system of manufacture. The Imperial workshops, the towns of Lahor, Agrah, Fathpur, Ahmadabad, Gujrat, turn out many masterful pieces of workmanship; and the figures and patterns, knots, and variety of fashions which now prevail, astonish experienced travelers. […] [T]he imperial workshops furnish all those stuffs which are made in other countries.61

This phenomenon is corroborated by another of Akbar’s biographers, Arif Qandahari, who credits Akbar with their instruction: The king is an expert in dealing with and solving tough problems. […] He has provided training in the art to expert masters (ustad), consequently these craftsmen now produce such stuff, much superior to those of Iran and Europe. They do the design works and colouring [dyeing] in such a manner that even if Mani were present, he would put his finger to his lips in amazement.62

A luxury metal-thread figural velvet attributed to Mughal Indian manufacture demonstrates the advanced weaving techniques of the domestic industry. The panel, which resides in four different collections including the Los Angeles County Museum of Art (LACMA) (M.71.13), depicts confronting and addorsed women in 59 Ansari, ‘Badāʾūnī, ‘Abd-al-Qāder.’ 60 Bada’uni, A History of India (Muntakhab al-Tawarikh), II, 316. 61 See ‘Allami, A’in-i Akbari, I, A’in 31, ‘The Wardrobe and the Stores for the Mattresses.’ 62 Qandhari, Tarikh-i Akbari, 63. The historic figure of Mani is the prophet of Manichaeism, a Zoroastrian sect, who was known for his exceptional skills as a painter.

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profile, dressed in Indian court attire.63 The panel is dated to the first quarter of the seventeenth century and has been described by former curator Mary Kahlenberg as ‘a prototype of Persian velvets,’ with the illustrative stylization of the figures ‘reminiscent of the Golconda style of painting.’64 Kahlenberg focuses on stylistic elements of the iconography and notes that technical similarities between Mughal and Safavid velvets ‘attests to the fact that skilled craftsmen travelled between the weaving centres of India and Persia.’65 Based on the depiction of a similar figural velvet in the Padshahnama, the illustrated manuscript celebrating the reign of Jahangir’s successor, Shah Jahan (r. 1627-1664), Kahlenberg estimates the period of manufacture for this rare type of Indian figural silk to be between 1649 and 1659, when the Safavids and Mughals were at war and the import of silks from Iran ceased, creating the need for a domestic industry. However, Kahlenberg acknowledges that velvets were probably woven by immigrant weavers.66 More recently, this textile was included in the 2015 publication The Fabric of India edited by Rosemary Crill. In the catalogue entry for this velvet panel, scholar Stephen Cohen compared it to Safavid panels with similar iconographic elements but attributes the velvet’s manufacture to one of the major weaving centres of the Mughal realm.67 Cohen corroborates Kahlenberg’s assessment: When purchased in 1971, the curators at the Los Angeles County Museum of Art believed their velvet to be Indian simply on the basis of its colouring and design, although they lacked any structural proof. That intuitive opinion has now been scientifically validated.68

In his notes, Cohen cites the 2011 monograph by Rahul Jain, Mughal Velvets in the Collection of the Calico Museum of Textiles, which examines structural characteristics 63 Fragments of the Mughal figurative velvet referenced here reside in the following collections: Walters Art Museum, Baltimore (83.630); Nasser D. Khalili Collection of Islamic Art, London (TXT 130); Keir Collection, London; and the Los Angeles County Museum of Art (71.13). For a colour reproduction, see Crill, Fabric of India, pl. 69. The velvet was also published in the following: Kahlenberg, Fabric and Fashion; Kahlenberg, ‘A Mughal Personage Velvet’; Dye, ‘Fabrics, Carpets and Costumes,’ 192, pl. 203. The Los Angeles County Museum of Art panel can be viewed online at: https://collections.lacma.org/node/237698. 64 Kahlenberg, Fabric and Fashion, cat. no. 14. 65 Kahlenberg, ‘A Mughal Personage Velvet,’ 725. 66 Ibid. It seems far more likely, however, that the domestic silk velvet weaving industry started earlier than 1649, albeit ‘by weavers of foreign origin’ as Kahlenberg states in ‘A Mughal Personage Velvet,’ 725. Jain cites the first quarter of the seventeenth century for domestic velvet production in India (Mughal Velvets, 7-8). 67 See Crill, Fabric of India, 62; and Kahlenberg, ‘A Mughal Personage Velvet,’ 721-724, for comparisons of this piece to three different Safavid velvets. 68 Cohen, ‘Velvet Panel with Figures,’ in Crill, Fabric of India, 62.

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of a group of seventeenth-century velvets.69 In his publication, Jain notes the similarities and differences between Ottoman, Safavid and Mughal velvets, both structural and material, which helps to establish Indian manufacture for the LACMA fragment. Mughal velvets brocaded with gold or silver threads consistently utilize metal-wrapped threads: gold or silver foil, cut and wrapped around a silk core. Safavid velvets have more variations, alternately employing flat strips of metal or metal-wrapped threads. Jain and Kahlenburg also note a difference in the direction of the wrapped metal: a ‘Z’-direction for Mughal examples, an ‘S’-direction for Safavid examples (also referred to as ‘Z-twist’ and ‘S-twist,’ respectively referencing clockwise and counterclockwise directions while spinning). This distinction can prove crucial to identifying the place of manufacture; the Z-direction of the wrapping in the LACMA fragment corresponds with Kahlenberg’s earlier analysis attributing the velvet to India.70 The attribution of the LACMA figural silk velvet to the reign of Shah Jahangir or Shah Jahan supports the probability that figural velvets were being produced in Mughal India during the era corresponding with the latter half of the time period cited for Khamsa silks (1600-1650). According to Abul Fazl’s account in the A’in-i Akbari, patterned drawloom-woven velvet was not manufactured in India for the Mughal court until the end of the sixteenth century. Abul Fazl described these as ‘zardozi’ (‘gold-thread stitching’), which indicates that metal-wrapped threads have been incorporated in the fabric. Heinrich Blochmann translates these as ‘brocades’; alternately, these can indicate embroidery with metal-wrapped threads.71 In Table A of A’in 32, Abul Fazl lists the value of various silk stuffs, acknowledging that these textiles produced in the royal karkhanajat of Gujarat and Lahore (10 to 50 mohurs per piece) are still considerably less expensive than those produced in Yazd (150 mohurs per piece).72 Jain cites the earliest examples of patterned Indian velvets dated between 1600 and 1625, in the quarter century directly following Abul Fazl’s compilation for the Akbarnama in the last decade of the sixteenth century – indicating that the Mughal industry was thriving during the period of Khamsa silk production.73 Within the group of Khamsa silks, the unsigned velvet metal-thread silk depicting Majnun alone in the wilderness with his animals (fig. 5.2) may possibly be of Mughal manufacture between 1600 and 1625. Residing in the State Hermitage Museum in 69 Jain, Mughal Velvets, 9-17. 70 Corroborated by Crill, Fabric of India, 62. 71 It is curious to note that, if these are meant to indicate silks woven with metal threads, Abul Fazl hasn’t used the Persian zar-baf rather than zar-dozi. 72 ‘Allami, A’in-i Akbari, I, A’in 32, Appendix A, ‘On Shawls and Stuffs.’ 73 Jain, Mughal Velvets, 8. The dating of patterned velvet to the seventeenth century either indicates that earlier examples have not survived, or that Abul Fazl was exaggerating the capabilities of the royal workshops in the last decade of the sixteenth century.

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Figure 5.2: Chasuble (with detail). Attributed to Iran (fabric); Russia (shoulder pieces), sixteenth century (fabric), seventeenth century (shoulder pieces). Silk and silver thread; cut and voided velvet. L: 136 cm. Entered the Hermitage in 1930; transferred from the State Historical Museum inv. no. ИР-2327. Photograph © The State Hermitage Museum. Photo by Aleksey Pakhomov.

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St Petersburg (ИР-2327), the museum information available about this magnificent textile, which is fashioned into a chasuble, credits its origin as sixteenth-century Safavid Iran.74 However, an iconographic comparison with Mughal paintings and velvet silk designs dated to the seventeenth century indicates that it could possibly have been woven between 1600 and 1650 in a Mughal karkhana.75 The overall design is arranged as a brick repeat comprised of the central figure of Majnun, surrounded by animals and floral sprays. Supporting a date of manufacture for this velvet to the seventeenth century is the naturalistic rendering of flora and fauna which appear across media during the reign of Shah Jahangir. Natural sciences were given prominence in the Jahangirnama, the ruler’s imperial memoir. Much of the ruler’s character may be gleaned through this detailed first-person account written in Persian by the sovereign’s own hand, covering a range of subjects. Although the writing style contrasts with the carefully constructed Akbarnama, a third-person historiography created to establish a precedent for future generations, Jahangir’s memoir was also intended as an edifying treatise for the elite of his realm.76 He describes flora in detail on his travels throughout the realm and presents the relationships of animals as fascinations and observations about the natural world. However, it is perhaps more appropriate to interpret the focus on naturalism and comments on the animal kingdom in the Jahangirnama as a series of metaphors constructed to illustrate the spiritual and imperial authority of the sovereign. These descriptive passages are often interspersed with events at court, symbolic dreams and visits with Sufi shaykhs, reinforcing the ruler’s metaphors with real-life events. The effect of Jahangir’s self-fashioning as naturalist and its manifestation in the arts is evident upon further examination of the stylized flora in the Majnun velvet, which appears to have taken cues from botanical drawings and painting in the same period. Court painter Mansur (active ca. 1589-1626) was particularly well known for his realistic depictions of exotic animals and plants.77 Mansur was given the title 74 Loukonine and Ivanov, Lost Treasures of Persia, cat. no. 182. The catalogue entry states that the chasuble was transferred from the History Museum in Moscow around 1930, and confirms the subject matter of Layla and Majnun, though only Majnun is depicted with a deer in his lap – perhaps a symbolic proxy for Layla. The authors speculate that the silk was sent in a large quantity to Russia as a diplomatic gift and later fashioned into a chasuble. 75 Lacking the detailed technical information on this textile, I can only compare the Majnun chasuble to contemporary velvets based on iconographic similarities. For a similar botanical spray, see catalogue notes on acc. no. 54 in Jain, Mughal Velvets, 28-31. Jain emphasizes the importance of working directly with velvets to ascertain whether they are Safavid or Mughal, citing the density as a major point of differentiation, as well as higher quality metal threads in Mughal examples from the seventeenth century onwards. Rahul Jain, personal communication via video conference, May 24, 2022. 76 See Lefèvre, ‘Recovering a Missing Voice from Mughal India,’ 457-458. 77 See Verma, Mughal Painter of Flora and Fauna Ustad Mansur, pl. XI, ‘The Tulip.’

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‘Nadir al-Asr’ (‘Unique One of the Age’) by his patron and travelled with Jahangir on campaigns and forays into Kashmir and other areas of the Mughal dominion. Mansur’s task was to document the many species of flora and fauna in the region, resulting in several detailed single-page paintings that were compiled into albums – a great shift from the narrative illustrated manuscripts of the sixteenth century. The floral studies produced in the early part of Jahangir’s reign would remain part of the Mughal iconographic repertoire through the mid-seventeenth century. Contemporaneously, the trend for botanical renderings was growing in Safavid Iran. Production of single-page paintings of realistically rendered plants and animals corresponds with the latter half of the reign of Shah ‘Abbas I and the successive reigns of Shah Safi I (r. 1629-1642) and ‘Abbas II (r. 1642-1666). Shah ‘Abbas I’s court painter, Reza ‘Abbasi (ca. 1565-1635), established the style of painting that prevailed from the beginning of his active period in the 1590s to his death in 1635, which included single pages of elongated figures surrounded by monochromatic floral sprigs and birds in landscape settings.78 Following his example, and possibly inspired by the European examples of botanical albums brought by visitors which had been circulating throughout the Safavid capital at Isfahan, Reza’s son Shafi ‘Abbasi elaborated on the study of natural subjects, adding more naturalistic detail to the flora and fauna while maintaining Reza’s characteristic curvilinear style.79 Several Safavid velvets dated to the seventeenth century feature birds, butterflies and swaying flowering plants that emulate painted studies, often in conjunction with f igural designs. 80 It follows that in the early decades of the seventeenth century, both Safavid painters and textile designers began incorporating similar depictions of flora and fauna into their designs, and the botanical spray began to appear as a popular design.81 However, the velvet motifs lack the graceful swaying of contemporary Safavid examples, but instead embody the regal stylization of the floral motifs found in Mughal textiles of the period.82 78 For an example of Reza ‘Abbasi’s mature style, see ‘The Lovers,’ Metropolitan Museum of Art (50.164); also published in Ekhtiar et al., Masterpieces, 221, cat. no. 148. 79 Canby, The Golden Age of Persian Art, 123-124. 80 For examples of a figural velvet with botanical elements: see Harris, Textiles, 5,000 Years, 83, fig. 87, for the seventeenth-century coat sent to Queen Christina of Sweden by Russian Czar Mikhail I in 1644. Also see Bier, The Persian Velvets at Rosenborg, 35, fig. 13: ‘Inebriated Youth’ (detail); 40, figs 14 and 15: ‘Falconer’; and 42, fig. 17: ‘Supplicant.’ 81 Canby notes that textile pattern books were brought to Isfahan by English merchants; for an example of a botanical study by Shafi ‘Abbasi on the same page, see Canby, Persian Painting, 108. For additional examples of Safavid botanical drawings by Shafi ‘Abassi, see Canby, The Golden Age of Persian Art, 123, figs 112 and 113. 82 For examples of Mughal botanical drawings from the seventeenth century, see Pal et al., Romance of the Taj Mahal, figs 98-100. For examples of Mughal velvets with botanical motifs similar to the Majnun velvet, see Jain, Rapture, 124, 128 and 130, cat. nos 39, 41 and 42.

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Therefore a careful examination of the iconography on fig. 5.2 is required to explore the hypothesis that the velvet may have been made by a Mughal karkhana (perhaps headed by a Safavid naqshband). The floral sprays in the Majnun velvet appear to be representations of three different species: the tulip, appearing as a single flower that stems from a group of five long leaves from which a gazelle or ibex grazes; the narcissus, appearing in a spray of three flowers with large, serrated leaves; and a stylized peony, also in groups of three with bent stems and a collection of small leaves at the base. Comparing the motifs in the Majnun velvet to Mughal botanical studies that appear in albums and floral silk velvets produced in the first half of the seventeenth century, the similarities become evident (fig. 5.3). Based on the proximity of painters and textile designers in imperial workshops and the proliferation of shared iconography, there is a high probability that the silk velvet design of Majnun in the wilderness with his animals was probably created in the first quarter of the seventeenth century during the reign of Jahangir, and possibly as late as the 1650s during the reign of his successor, Jahan.83 This later date corresponds with Kahlenberg’s hypothesis that figural silks may have been manufactured in India after the war with the Safavids, which started in 1649, ceasing any imports from Iran. Additionally supporting the hypothesis of Mughal manufacture, iconographic details such as the dragonfly do not commonly appear in Persian silk textiles of the period, though butterflies do appear as a motif in the seventeenth century.84 However, a signed painting by Mansur includes a tulip with both a butterfly and dragonfly.85 The similarities between the tulip and dragonfly in the velvet are remarkable, as illustrated in figure 5.3 (a, b and c). Other motifs in the Majnun velvet, such as the rabbit that appears in alternating light and dark shades in the naqsheh, appear in both Mughal and Safavid paintings (see fig. 5.3, e and f). A painting by Safavid artist Farrukh Beg – another transplant to the Mughal court from Safavid Iran – depicts the founder of the Mughal empire in a Baburnama dated 1580-1585 seated on his throne receiving a courtier (S1986.230).86 83 See Kahlenberg, ‘A Mughal Personage Velvet,’ 725. 84 For examples of Safavid seventeenth- and early-eighteenth-century velvets with a butterfly motif included in the design, see the panels with accession numbers 30.59, 30.95.140, and 11.134.1 at the Metropolitan Museum. Also see Canby, Shah ‘Abbas, 231, cat. no. 110. 85 For an example of a floral study clearly signed by Mansur dated 1610, featuring a tulip with a dragonfly and butterfly, see Dos, Wonders of Nature, pl. VI. View online at: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/ File:Mansurtulip.jpg. Almost identical to the motifs in this velvet are the daffodil and other flowering plants, rendered with careful precision and surrounded by butterflies and clouds, which represent the pietra dura behind Shah Jahan at the Taj Mahal in fol. 70B of the Padshahnama. For a colour reproduction, see Beach and Koch, The King of the World, pl. 10. 86 The painting ‘Babur Receives a Courtier,’ ca. 1580-1585, from a Baburnama, attributed to Farrukh Beg, resides in the Smithsonian National Museum of Asian Art (S1986.230). For a colour reproduction with commentary, see Beach, The Imperial Image, 62-63, pl. 8a.

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Figure 5.3: Drawings of motifs by the author: a) dragonfly, Majnun velvet (fig. 5.2); b) tulip and dragonfly, Mansur’s painting; c) tulip with ibex, Majnun velvet (fig. 5.2); d) rabbit, Farrukh Beg’s painting (S1986.230); e) rabbit, Safavid drawing (fig. 5.4); f) rabbit, Majnun velvet (fig. 5.2). © 2022 Nazanin Hedayat Munroe

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Figure 5.4: Majnun in the Wilderness (detail). Second half of sixteenth century, attributed to Safavid Iran. Ink, opaque watercolour, and gold on paper. L: 3 7/8 in. (9.8 cm), W: 2 5/8 in. (6.7 cm). Metropolitan Museum of Art (45.174.6). Bequest of George D. Pratt, 1935.

Illustrated on the iwan behind him, two addorsed rabbits are seated in profile; these are almost identical in form to the long-eared species that Majnun holds in his lap in the double cloth of the three couples (fig. 3.5). The rabbits found on both textiles closely resemble the black-naped hare (Lapus nigricollis) commonly found in the Indian subcontinent. A similar rabbit also appears in the drawing ‘Majnun in the Wilderness,’ attributed to Iran in the second half of the sixteenth century (see

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fig. 5.4).87 In both velvet and drawing, the rabbit turns its head to look at Majnun, who is directly engaged with the deer representing Layla. The shared iconography again seems to find it roots in the migration of Safavid artists to the Mughal court. Given the mass exodus of artists from Safavid Iran, which included both painters and naqshbandan, it is difficult to determine definitively if these extant textile fragments were produced in the Mughal or Safavid realms. Even with technical analyses testing chemical components in dyes, and structural comparisons such as Jain’s which consider both weave structure and thread type, experts are often mystified when attempting to determine provenance for earlyseventeenth-century silks.88

Jahangir as King and Lover Working from the visual to the metaphorical, it seems possible to put forth a hypothesis that perhaps at least one design in the group of Khamsa silks may have been produced during the reign of Jahangir, with a special request from him for this specific subject matter of Layla and Majnun. As a highly sophisticated patron and connoisseur, Jahangir’s literary and visual association with images of Majnun as the suffering lover was entwined with his earthly love life, and his perception of himself as a Sufi lover. Much like the characters in the Khamsa, Jahangir – from the time when he was still known as Prince Selim – had two notable infatuations that manifested during his epic journey to kingship. The undisputedly greater romance was with the daughter of a high-ranking Iranian émigré known as I’timad al Dawla. His daughter, Mehrunissa, became the object of the prince’s attention, but Akbar would not allow a marriage between them, as Mehrunissa’s father had already arranged her marriage to Ali Quli, an Afghan commander in the Mughal army. After her husband’s death, Mehrunissa would finally marry Jahangir in 1611 at the age of 34 and become known as thereafter as ‘Nur Jahan’ (‘Light of the World’). From this period, the rapid rise to power of her Iranian family is categorically documented in the Jahangirnama. The consistent presence in the monarch’s life of Nur Jahan and her father, as well as her brother Asaf Khan, was clearly incorporated into these textual sources in order to legitimize their honoured place in Jahangir’s court. However, the power gleaned by this non-indigenous family was much contested 87 For a publication of the drawing ‘Majnun in the Wilderness’ with comments, see Swietochowski and Babaie, Persian Drawings, 33, cat. no. 11. Note that this small-scale drawing was probably intended for inclusion in an album or pocket-sized poetry book, rather than an illustrated manuscript of the Khamsa. For an example of this type of book, see Canby, Shah ‘Abbas, 53, cat. no. 13. 88 For a technical analysis on Mughal and Safavid velvets, see Shibayama et al., ‘Analysis of Natural Dyes,’ and Jain, Mughal Velvets, 9-17.

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in its time, adding stress to the love relationship between Jahangir and Nur Jahan and creating a microcosm of the Layla and Majnun story. Was Majnun adopted by Jahangir as a further representation of himself as a Sufi lover?89 Jahangir referred to his lovelorn state again through the names of a pair of sarus cranes he kept as pets, whom he called Layla and Majnun. In a detailed Jahangirnama entry following that of June 24, 1618, Jahangir describes in great detail the mating ritual of these birds, remarking that this is an act rarely witnessed, and that it was possible they produced offspring – perhaps an allusion to Amir Khusrau’s lovers uniting.90 The ruler then proceeds to tell a story of a Mughal noble who finds a sarus crane in the woods who is suffering from an illness, which has caused all the feathers from its breast to fall off – a description that could easily be related to the shirtless, barefoot Majnun in Nizami’s wilderness.91 One of the enduring anecdotes about Jahangir’s love life preceding his famed romance with Nur Jahan is with a slave girl named Anarkali, a dancer at Akbar’s court. In most versions, Jahangir fell in love and had a relationship with her (ca. 1599-1600); the aging Akbar was outraged – and perhaps embarrassed – that she favoured his young son. Akbar ordered her death by stoning; in some narrative variations this was carried out, and in others he felt remorse and released her. Some scholars do not accept the validity of the anecdotal relationship between Jahangir and Anarkali.92 However, some material evidence remains to support this possibility. Jahangir had the following verses inscribed in stone on her cenotaph in Lahore, perhaps to commemorate his affection for her: Tā qiyāmat shukr gūyam kirdargār-i khvīsh rā Ah gar man bāz bīnam rū-yi yār-i khvīsh rā I would give thanks to my God until the day of resurrection, Ah! Should I ever behold the face of my beloved again.93 89 This point is aptly made by Lefèvre in ‘Recovering a Missing Voice from Mughal India,’ 452-453. Based on Lefèvre’s careful analysis of the Jahangirnama, there is little doubt that the ruler consciously chose where to direct his power, in that he spent a considerable amount of energy establishing and immortalizing his self-image through his memoirs. The relationship between Nur Jahan and Jahangir is analyzed by late-nineteenth and early-twentieth-century scholars of Jahangir’s reign as a weakening influence on the drug-addicted Shah, who fell victim to their machinations. 90 Jahangir, Jahangirnama, 266. In her analysis of the monarch, Lefèvre cites Nizami as the reference to the naming of the birds, but this could easily have been inspired by one of the other Khamsa renditions of the story of Layla and Majnun. See Lefèvre, ‘Recovering a Missing Voice from Mughal India,’ 474. 91 Jahangir, Jahangirnama, 266. 92 This tale is refuted by Parvati Sharma in Jahangir; see Kindle version, ‘Part I: Accession,’ para. 49. 93 These verses are identif ied as those of the Persian poet Sa’di. See Koch, ‘The Mughal Emperor as Solomon,’ 310, n. 62; after Skelton.

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A separate cartouche on the cenotaph inscription includes his signature, in which he references himself as the famous Khamsa character: Majnun Selim-i Akbar (The madman/madly-in-love Selim, son of Akbar). The inscription bears the dates 1599-1600 and 1615-1616, referring respectively to the date of Anarkali’s death and the date of the tomb, perhaps indicating that Jahangir revisited this episode later in life in order to document his experience as the lovelorn Sufi Majnun.94 The sovereign’s enduring interest in the famous Khamsa tale is also reflected in paintings. The Muraqqa‘, an album compiled by Jahangir with notes on the events in his reign, includes three images of Layla visiting Majnun in the wilderness by Basawan and his son, Manohar.95 Jahangir’s self-identif ication as Majnun becomes further clarif ied in a painting in the same album dated 1600, concurrent with Anarkali’s death. Titled ‘Prince Salim [Jahangir] Visits a Sufi in the Wilderness,’ the painting is attributed to Muhammad Sharif (also known as ‘Amir al-Umara’) and resides in the Bodleian Library.96 The portrait depicts a pleading Jahangir on his knees before a pir (‘Sufi wise man’) in a rocky wilderness, perhaps representing his father, Akbar, surrounded by a horde of pacif ied animals that represent subjects in the Mughal realm. In the case of a royal commission of Majnun, the Mughals presents another aspect of the lover: his ability to tame the wild beasts in the tradition of the Qur’anic Suleyman, another symbol of divine kingship.97 Jahangir’s self-identification as the Khamsa character could very well have been heightened by commissioning a textile with his image – not being comforted by his lover, but as Majnun residing alone ruling over the kingdom of his wilderness in a state of ecstasy. Mirroring popular imagery of Majnun in both Mughal and Safavid paintings, the rocky landscape that rises behind Jahangir like a throne correlates closely with the wilderness rendered in the unsigned Layla and Majnun red velvet (fig. 3.3) in the Keir Collection, and in a more stylized form in the black and gold lampas (fig. 3.1) signed by Ghiyath.98

94 Koch, ‘The Mughal Emperor as Solomon,’ 304. 95 Ibid., 289-291. Also spelled Muraqqaʿ and referenced as Muraqqaʿ-i Gulshan (Golshan album), the pages are dispersed between the Golestan Palace Library in Tehran and the Deutsche Staatsbibliothek in Berlin. 96 In her discussion of this painting, Koch offers the alternate title: ‘Prince Selim, Later Jahangir, as Majnun in the Wilderness.’ See Koch, ‘The Mughal Emperor as Solomon,’ fig. 22. View online at: https://digital.bodleian. ox.ac.uk/objects/ad812eb4-7922-4bb3-a9c5-b751ef21de7f/surfaces/190c05da-2bc5-458e-a9b0-503201ba3291/. 97 Koch points out that Shah Jahan also related to Majnun as lover and spiritual king. See Koch, ‘Mughal Emperor as Solomon,’ 279. 98 For two sixteenth-century Safavid drawings depicting a rocky landscape rising above Majnun, see fig. 4.2 and another drawing entitled ‘Majnun in the Wilderness’ in Swietochowski and Babaie, Persian Drawings, 30-31, cat. nos 10.

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Ghiyath’s Legacy at the Mughal Court The famed Safavid weaver was known in India as well as Iran, as documented in Abul Fazl’s A’in-i Akbari. Several scholars have referenced the Blochmann translation for two passages about the weaver Ghiyath, whose signature appears on three of the Khamsa silks, discussed at length in Part I. Regarding fine silk stuffs at the Mughal court, the first passage in A’in-i Akbari is as follows: Experienced people inquire continually into the prices of articles used both formerly and at present, as a knowledge of the exact prices is conducive to the increase of the stock. Even the prices became generally lower. Thus a piece woven by the famous Ghias-i Naqshband may now be obtained for fifty mohrs, whilst it had formerly been sold for twice that sum; and most other articles have got cheaper at the rate of thirty to ten, or even forty to ten. His Majesty also ordered that people of certain ranks should wear certain articles; and this was done in order to regulate the demand.99

The identity of the ‘famous Ghias-i Naqshband’ [sic] in this section of the translation includes an end note, in which Blochmann references the passage about Ghiyath from the Tazkira of Nasrabadi extolling the talents of the naqshband. Blochmann includes the anecdote of the weaver presenting a piece of ‘mushajjar brocade’ (figured silk) to Shah ‘Abbas I.100 Herein lies a question with regard to Blochmann’s connection of the person referenced by Abul Fazl as ‘Ghias-i Naqshband’ to Nasrabadi’s entry in his tazkira, which explicitly names the title, name, province and occupation of the weaver as: ‘Khwaja Ghiyath al-Din Ali Yazdi Naqshband.’ This custom was common practice in tazkira. It was also customary for Iranian artists at the Mughal court to be identified as such in primary sources by referring to their city or province of origin as part of the description. For example, when Abul Fazl lists the painters at the court of Akbar, he refers to ‘Mír Sayyid ‘Alí of Tabríz’ and ‘Khájah [Khwaja] Abduççamad, styled Shírínqalam. […] He comes from Shíráz.’101 This practice of identifying the 99 ‘Allami, A’in-i Akbari, I, A’in 31, ‘The Wardrobe and the Stores for the Mattresses.’ 100 Blochmann’s note reads in full: ‘GHIA´S I NAQSHBAND. We know from the Tazkirah of Ṭáhir Naçrábádí [sic] that Ghiás [sic] was born in Yazd. The world has not since seen a weaver like him. Besides, he was a good poet. Once he bought a piece of mushajjar brocade, on which there was among other figures that of a bear between some trees, to Sháh ‘Abbás (1585 to 1629), when a courtier after praising the stuff admired the bear. Ghiás said on the spur of the moment: “The gentleman looks chiefly at the bear. Each looks at his own likeness.” Bears in the East are looked upon as stupid animals. A proverb says, “A bear on the hill is an Avicenna,” i.e. a fool among bigger fools is a philosopher. Naçrábádí quotes some of Ghiás’s verses.’ 101 ‘Allami, A’in-i Akbari, I, A’in 34, ‘The Arts of Writing and Painting.’

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hometown of artists was still in use 20 years later, during the reign of Akbar’s successor. In an entry for the Jahangirnama dated 1618, the ruler wrote about one of his court painters: Abu’l-Hasan’s father was Aqa Riza of Herat, who joined my service while I was a prince. Abu’l-Hasan therefore is a Khanazad in this court. His work, however, is beyond any comparison in any way to his father’s; they can’t even be mentioned in the same breath.102

However, in Abul Fazl’s passage about ‘Ghiyas-i Naqshband’ there is no mention of his hometown, which Nasrabadi specifies in his entry as Yazd, Iran. It seems reasonable to assume that the passage in the A’in-i Akbari is referencing the Safavid designer, but perhaps this lack of geographical identification indicates that there may be a second naqshband in the Mughal realm, also named or titled Ghiyath/Ghiyas (a common titular name); and perhaps it is this later naqshband who designed one or more of the Layla and Majnun silks. This possibility is strengthened by a stylistic comparison to other works attributed to Ghiyath of Yazd. For comparison, we will consider two extant examples: a velvet silk and a triple cloth silk, both signed Amal-e Ghiyath in Nasta’liq calligraphy. The cut and voided velvet, which resides at the Metropolitan Museum of Art (52.20.13), is woven with a satin foundation adorned with floats of flat metal thread. The stylized ogival layout adorned with eight-pointed rosettes floats over a sub-pattern of floral arabesques. Overall, the design features a fourfold symmetrical design, in which the name of the designer appears mirrored both vertically and horizontally. The fragment is given a date of manufacture by the museum as late sixteenth century, based on Ghiyath’s signature and life span (ca. 1530-1593/1595).103 This layout seems to have been favoured by the naqshband. A figural silk triple cloth residing in the Yale University Art Gallery (1937.4626) features a similar compartmentalized layout with a fourfold symmetrical design, depicting various scenes. Utilizing three separate warps and three wefts, the design includes small-scale animals and figures in the repeat: a fox captures a duck by the neck, confronting cheetahs leap, and a reclining male figure leans on a patterned bolster holding a cup of wine. The headwear on the male figure echoes those worn during the period of Shah ‘Abbas I in the late sixteenth century: a wide, voluminous pleated style puckered in the middle, intentionally designed to differ from the vertical white 102 Beach, The Imperial Image, 202, after Jahangir, Jahangirnama. See p. 215, n. 14. Khanazad can be translated as ‘born at the court,’ indicating that the Iranian painter’s son was born in the Mughal realm after his father was employed by the court. 103 See ‘Silk Textile Designed by Ghiyath’ (52.20.13), Metropolitan Museum of Art http://metmuseum. org/art/collection/search/451093. Also published in Ekhtiar et al., Masterpieces, 246, cat. no. 170.

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twelve-fold turban with red baton of the taj Safavi characteristic of the Tahmasp period.104 The predatory animal scenes, in sharp contrast to the reclining figure, are separated by a flowering vase, sprigs, pomegranates and books that float behind the figure. In summary, the figural scene carries some mystical connotations of spiritual serenity amidst the chaos of a violent world – a popular Sufi metaphor expressed in the visual arts of the Safavid period through various iconographic combinations – but there is no apparent narrative element here.105 Additionally, both design layouts employ vertical and horizontal reflection, causing the signature to only be read correctly one in four repeat units throughout the weaving of the textile. Compared to the other three signed textile designs (figs 2.5 and 2.6, 3.1 and 3.2), these two silks feature very different approaches to design, as well as containing a smaller overall layout; the figures in the Yale fragment measure roughly 6.3 cm (2.5 inches) W by 5.7 cm (2.25 inches) L. The figures in the signed Khusrau and Shirin velvet at the Keir Collection (figs 2.4 and 2.5) and the Textile Museum (fig. 3.2) feature the largest figures of any signed Ghiyath textile in the group, including the non-narrative example at Yale University Art Gallery, at nearly double that size.106 Furthermore, the fourfold symmetry employed in the naqsheh of the non-Khamsa signed examples are not employed in any of Ghiyath’s narrative designs of Layla and Majnun, or Khusrau and Shirin. The signature itself is also curiously inconsistent among the signed examples. The non-narrative examples both feature signatures executed in Naskhi, as with the signatures on the horse’s saddle in Khusrau and Shirin (figs 2.6 and 2.7) and on Layla’s palanquin (fig. 3.1); whereas the signature on Layla’s palanquin in the alternate lampas design (fig. 3.2) is written in square Kufic.107 Why would the same designer employ such different stylistic features for both layout and his signature? There are a few possible explanations. As with any artist with an active period spanning decades, these stylistic differences may indicate a departure or evolution from earlier work throughout the designer’s career. In the catalogue notes for the non-figural velvet signed by Ghiyath at the Metropolitan Museum, Daniel Walker comments that the variety of weaving techniques and calligraphic styles 104 For a discussion of the change in taj Safavi headwear early in the reign of ‘Abbas, see Schmitz, ‘On a Special Hat,’ 106-107. 105 See ‘Textile Fragment’ attributed to ‘Khwaja Ghiyath ad-din ‘Ali,’ active late sixteenth/early seventeenth century (1937.4626), Yale University Art Gallery. View online at: http://artgallery.yale.edu/collections/ objects/60785. 106 Based on my approximate measurements of the figures in figs 2.4 and 2.5, the seated Shirin is 4.75’ wide by 5.75’ tall, while Khusrau seated on horseback is 3’ wide by 7’ tall. 107 Silk textiles signed ‘Amal-e Ghiyath’ include examples of both Kufic and Naskhi signatures. In his publication Ṣafawid Rugs and Textiles, Mehmet Aga-Oglu lists the signed textiles attributed to Ghiyath al-Din in Appendix A, which total seven. Aga-Oglu illustrates examples of the signature written in both scripts (pp. 45-47).

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used by the designer ‘reflect a broad variety versatility and suggest the absence of a signature style.’108 Although this is one possible explanation for the apparent discrepancies in Ghiyath’s work – that this was purposefully done by the naqshband as a demonstration of his skills – it also leaves open the question as to whether a stylistically diverse signature is enough to categorically attribute all textiles signed with his name to his workshop. Alternately, silks with the signature Amal-e Ghiyath may have been held in such high regard that his workshop may have continued to use his signature beyond the end of his life; similar to high-end design houses in our time continuing under the name of the founder after they expire.109 The name ‘Ghiyath’ may also have been so illustrious by the late sixteenth century that another workshop may have co-opted or resurrected his label.110 A final possibility: this may be a different Ghiyath, who also signed his naqsheh with the established formula of Amal-e Ghiyath. These possibilities respectively indicate continuance, revival, or an example of early modern counterfeiting with a well-known designer name. Abul Fazl openly credits Akbar on having perfected the creation of stuffs in his kingdom with the assistance of migrant master craftsmen; therefore, it was entirely possible for naqshbandan employed in the royal karkhana to reverseengineer a famous Ghiyath silk and create a counterfeit version – thereby causing the cost of such rare ‘designer’ silks to fall. Alternately, a Safavid weaver may have surreptitiously transported the naqsheh from a weaving workshop in Iran to India as a form of currency, or to advance his career in the Mughal karkhana. Another possibility that seems to have been overlooked by previous scholars is that the naqshband Ghiyath may have legitimately transported his naqsheh to be woven (or rewoven) at the Mughal court. In ‘Naksha Bandas of Banaras,’ Pupul Jaykar speculates upon the arrival of naqshbandan at the Mughal karkhanajat in Lucknow, Agra, Fatehpur, Ahmedabad and Gujarat to teach Akbar’s weavers how to implement sophisticated weaving techniques.111 Was Ghiyath among them, and did he produce one or both of his Khamsa designs for Akbar? Did he teach the local naqshbandan how to create lampas silks by creating the design with them, as a form of instruction? Accepting the possibility that some silks in the Khamsa group may have been manufactured in India, perhaps a more curious question is why one poet’s version .

108 See catalogue notes by Walker in Ekhtiar et al., Masterpieces, 246, cat. no. 170. 109 In the postmodern world there are many examples of a designer’s work being continued under the same name posthumously, such as the label of Alexander McQueen, taken over by Creative Director Sarah Burton in 2010 following the designer’s passing. 110 This was the case with the houses of Schiaparelli and Vionnet, couturières of the 1930s whose brands were revived in the twenty-first century. 111 Jaykar, ‘Naksha Bandas of Banaras,’ 49. Also cited in Bier, Persian Velvets at Rosenborg, 13.

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of the Layla and Majnun story was chosen over another. Despite the obvious ethnic connections of Indian Muslims to Amir Khusrau and Iranians to Nizami, these relationships do not seem to have influenced naqshbandan in choosing which poetic narrative to portray. Rather, it seems to have been the outcome of the lovers’ story: Nizami’s narrative keeps the lovers separated and their relationship unconsummated, with Majnun residing as king of the tamed beasts in the wilderness as a messianic figure – an image that Mughal sovereigns actively wished to convey. Amir Khusrau’s version places the lovers together to quench their desires, alluding to notions of tawhid through Sufi symbolism espoused by the Safavid Shahs. If Ghiyath of Yazd is truly the naqshband of all textiles signed with his name depicting Khamsa lovers, why illustrate Nizami’s ‘Khusrau and Shirin,’ but Amir Khusrau’s ‘Majnun and Layla’? Alternately, if Ghiyath’s work is inspiring other designers to make knock-offs, they could easily change the story back again by adopting either Nizami or Amir Khusrau’s versions of both sets of lovers – but they don’t. Is this a reflection of shared identity, but differing politics, in the Safavid and Mughal realms?

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Overton, Keelan, ed. Iran and the Deccan: Persianate Art, Culture and Talent in Circulation, 1400-1700. Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 2020. Pal, Pratapaditya, et al. Romance of the Taj Mahal. New York: Thames and Hudson, 1989. Potter, Lawrence G. ‘Sufis and Sultans in Post-Mongol Iran.’ Iranian Studies 27, no. 1-4 (1994): 77-102. Qandhari, Muhammad Arif. Tarikh-i Akbari. Translated by Tasneem Ahmad. Delhi: Pragati Publications, 1993. Schmitz, Barbara. ‘On a Special Hat Introduced during the Reign of Shah ‘Abbas the Great.’ Iran 22 (1984): 103-112. Seyller, John. ‘Pearls of the Parrot of India: The Walters Art Museum “Khamsa” of Amir Khusraw of Delhi.’ The Journal of the Walters Art Museum 58 (2000): 5-176. Sharma, Parvati. Jahangir: An Intimate Portrait of a Great Mughal. New Delhi: Juggernaut Books, 2018. Shibayama, Nobuko, Mark Wypyski and Elisa Gagliardi-Mangilli. ‘Analysis of Natural Dyes and Metal Threads Used in Sixteenth-Eighteenth Century Persian/Safavid and Indian/ Mughal Velvets by HPLC-PDA and SEM-EDS to Investigate the System to Differentiate Velvets of These Two Cultures.’ Heritage Science 3, no. 12 (2015): 1-20. Singh, Kavita. Real Birds in Imagined Gardens: Mughal Painting between Persia and Europe. Los Angeles, CA: Getty Research Institute, 2017. Soudavar, Abolala. ‘Between the Safavids and the Mughals: Art and Artists in Transition.’ Iran 37 (1999): 49-66. Subrahmanyam, Sanjay. ‘Iranians Abroad: Intra-Asian Elite Migration and Early Modern State Formation.’ Journal of Asian Studies 57, no. 2 (1992): 340-363. Swietochowski, Marie Lukens, and Sussan Babaie. Persian Drawings in the Metropolitan Museum of Art. New York: The Metropolitan Museum of Art, 1989.

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6. Safavid Figural Silks in Diplomacy: Rare Textiles of Novel Design Abstract Khamsa silks are considered within the larger genre of Safavid figural textiles. These finely woven silks were often brocaded with metal-wrapped threads in gold or silver. Depicting non-narrative scenes of figures reading poetry in gardens or hunting, these function as representations of kingship in Persianate culture as warrior and spiritual leader. Silks are a valuable commodity for Iran, gifted across Eurasia as exemplary samples to encourage trade of raw f ibre, whose prof its benefit the state. Figural silks in early modern diplomatic relations are analyzed through surviving garments and depictions, including ambassadorial khil‘at worn by Robert Sherley and Naqd ‘Ali Beg. Textiles gifted between Safavid Iran and Mughal India, and the display of figural silks as a representation of identity, are examined in detail. Keywords: diplomatic gift giving, Robert Sherley, Teresia Sherley, Shah ‘Abbas I, Jahangir, Shah Jahan, Safavid velvet

Khamsa silks are part of a larger genre of figural textiles that were coveted luxury objects throughout Eurasia. In addition to being imbued with complex iconological properties for those familiar with Sufi poetry, silk textiles in the early modern Persianate world were a representation of the talent and wealth of the realm that produced them. Safavid figural silks were highly esteemed by monarchs throughout Europe and the Islamic world, and surviving examples demonstrate the value of these sumptuous textiles, which were stored in palace treasuries or used by the church to wrap reliquaries and fashion liturgical garments, such as the Majnun velvet chasuble (fig. 5.2).1 In addition to the new proposed provenance and dating 1 Hermitage State Museum records do not specify this as a diplomatic gift, although some scholars have posited this theory. See Loukonine and Ivanov, Lost Treasures of Persia, cat. no. 182; and Scarce, ‘Through a Glass Darkly?,’ 320, cat. no. 13.2. Alternately, figural silks may have been purchased by individuals and gifted to the church.

Munroe, N.H., Sufi Lovers, Safavid Silks and Early Modern Identity. Amsterdam: Amsterdam University Press, 2023 doi 10.5117/9789463721738_ch06

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discussed in Chapter 5, the use of this prized velvet to create a liturgical garment demonstrates that the production of silks depicting characters from the Khamsa evoked an appreciation for the fabric itself – even outside the Persianate world, where the poetry and characters may not have been recognized by viewers. Silk was also an important commodity controlled by the Safavid state. In addition to selling woven products, Shah ‘Abbas I sought to corner the market in the lucrative sale of silk fibre, and figural textiles may have been presented as an example of the finely detailed imagery that could be produced with Iranian silk. To this end, Safavid representatives sent on diplomatic missions informed other nations as to the wealth of their ruler by appearing dressed in their finest attire. Poignantly, several portrayals of Safavid ambassadors depict them in figural silk garments, demonstrating these garments as an identifier linking them with the mystic origins of the dynasty’s Sufi genealogy. In addition to the narrative themes discussed throughout the book, tropes from Persian poetry are communicated through figural silks disseminated throughout Eurasia, a further supposition that the Khamsa silks and other designs were displayed as a representation of the Sufi kings they represented.

Silk as Commodity in Safavid Iran Silk played a crucial role in the representation of Iranian interests in global commerce. As maritime trade routes gained viability during the sixteenth century, the expansion of trade inspired a series of diplomatic exchanges between the courts of Europe and Asia. These diplomatic embassies sought the fruition of two concrete goals: to form political and military alliances against common enemies, and to introduce trade opportunities for goods, including silk textiles and raw materials. The Safavids found themselves in the enviable position of being major producers of raw silk for export to France and Italy at the Mediterranean ports, a relationship established as early as the thirteenth century.2 The silk industry in Iran was historically composed of individual farming dynasties producing raw material in the northern provinces of Gilan and Mazandaran. However, seeing the economic potential of this cash crop, the production and distribution of silk fibre was centralized by Shah ‘Abbas in the first decade of his reign. Seizing control of the silk-producing regions, he transformed the cottage industry into a state-run monopoly, in which the raw silk was purchased at a fixed price from farmers by agents of the state and sold to third parties at a profit, with revenues benefitting the

2

Steinmann, ‘Shāh ‘Abbās,’ 70.

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crown.3 After establishing his autocratic plan, Shah ‘Abbas sent several emissaries to European courts with samples of different grades of silk to encourage trade. ‘Abbas’ program included establishing new distribution channels as well, and the business-savvy Armenians living in Iran became international silk merchants. In 1604-1605, Armenians were resettled from the north-western town of Julfa by Shah ‘Abbas to ‘New Julfa’ located across the Zayandeh River in Isfahan, his new capital. Designated as commercial agents of the crown in European markets, the New Julfans were granted exclusive rights to overland trade, growing fabulously wealthy even after profit-sharing with the state. 4 The disadvantage was that merchants had to travel through Ottoman territory, paying heavy tolls and taxes; in addition, the Ottoman-Safavid wars of the late sixteenth century caused prices in raw silk to increase.5 Maritime alternatives were pursued from the late 1590s, through the Persian Gulf; however, this did not become favourable until the successful 1622 defeat of the Portuguese, who had controlled the port of Hormuz (also called ‘Gombroon’). The Iranians were assisted in their victory by the English navy, which was granted commercial rights through the Gulf at Hormuz, renamed Bandar ‘Abbas.6 In addition to raw silk, woven silk textiles and carpets played an important role in the presentation of Safavid silk as a commodity, produced for export to Europe and for domestic markets. The expertise of weavers and designers from Tabriz, Yazd and Kashan, specializing in compound weaves such as lampas and velvet, was already well established by the Safavid period.7 When Shah ‘Abbas moved the capital to Isfahan (1598), he established royal karkhanajat there as well, with weaving workshops focused on the production of luxury textiles for the court. This included interior furnishings for buildings and tents; luxurious clothing for the royal family, their respective entourages, and the women’s quarter; and apparel fabrics for khil‘at . Honorific garments of varying cost were disseminated to high-ranking officials, military commanders and others who had performed well. The higher the status of the recipient, the finer and more elaborate the khila’t: the finest of these included not only a cloak-type overcoat or balapush, but also a vest, shirt, trousers and turban, as well as horse trappings and weaponry inlaid with precious gems.8 Gift-giving occasions included Noruz, Mihragan and other celebratory 3 Ibid., 70-71. 4 Matthee, ‘Iran’s Relations with Europe in the Safavid Period,’ 14-15. 5 Steinmann, ‘Shāh ‘Abbās,’ 68-70. 6 Ibid., 73. 7 Michel Membré, a Venetian envoy visiting the Safavid court of Tahmasp from 1539 to 1542, notes that the Shah and his courtiers were dressed in velvet woven in Yazd, indicating that this velvet was acknowledged to be of the highest quality. See Membré, Mission to the Lord Sophy of Persia, 35. 8 Europeans also referred to balapush as a ‘surveste.’ See Baker, ‘Islamic Honorif ic Garments,’ 33. Although the khil‘at was often accompanied by additional items, such as precious objects and animal

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events including births, weddings, coronations and important events in the lives of royal children, such as circumcision, during which the ruler would hold feasts and the guests would each receive at least one robe of honour.9 These gifts were not only bestowed upon Iranian subjects of the crown, but envoys and ambassadors from foreign countries, functioning as both honorific garment and marketing opportunity to propagate interest in Iranian silk. High-ranking individuals could expect metal-thread silks containing 5 to 15 per cent gold (zar-baf to zarrin sangin, respectively). Less influential visitors were presented with lower grade silk or cotton robes.10 The evidence for these exchanges exists in literary accounts, as well as depictions of ambassadors dressed in luxury garments in the Safavid fashion.11 Anthony Jenkinson, an English ambassador sent by Elizabeth I to the court of Shah Tahmasp in 1562, describes the presentation of his khil‘at as follows: Two gentlemen encountered me with two garments of that country’s fashion […] down to the ground, one of silk, and the other of silk and gold, sent unto me from the king and after they caused me to put off my upper garment. […] [T]hey put the two garments on my back, and so conducted me unto the king.12

Jenkinson’s report indicates that the khila’t was presented to its recipient by representatives of the crown known as khil‘at pushan (‘robe of honour dressers’) who would greet newcomers outside the court and dress them for the audience with the shah.13 The presentation of the gift prior to the audience seems to indicate that clothing oneself in the gifted garment was a condition of appearing before the king. It is not known whether Jenkinson took his khila’t home with him or had his portrait painted wearing the garments of ‘silk and gold.’14 Although there is no visual record of Jenkinson’s khil‘at , European artists documented other instances of ambassadors wearing their robes of honour, the most famous of which depict Robert Sherley, an Englishman whose position as the ambassador to Shah ‘Abbas represented a role reversal rarely seen in diplomacy. trappings, the main reference throughout this chapter is to textiles and garments. 9 Moroney, ‘Gift Giving in the Iranian Tradition,’ 46-47. 10 Baker, ‘Islamic Honorific Garments,’ 32. For a list of gold velvet types and their Persian names, see Floor, The Persian Textile Industry, 202-203. 11 For a discussion of Safavid-European diplomatic missions with reproductions of portraits of several Safavid ambassadors, see Matthee, ‘Iran’s Relations with Europe in the Safavid Period.’ 12 Jenkinson, Journey of Anthony Jenkinson into Persia, 96. 13 Baker notes the ubiquity of this practice throughout the Islamic world. At the seventeenth-century Ottoman court, a Swedish envoy recorded a similar process of being approached by court pages with the garments before the royal audience. See Baker, ‘Islamic Honorific Garments,’ 30. 14 Scarce, ‘Safavid Dress and Europe,’ 59.

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Figural Silk as Safavid Identity: Sherley and His Rivals The story of the Sherleys has retained interest for scholars due to this fascinating tale of betrayal, allegiance and assimilation in early modern Iran. Anthony and Robert Sherley, brothers from England on a commercial venture, first presented themselves to Shah ‘Abbas I in December 1598 in Qazvin accompanied by their party of 30 Englishmen in royal Safavid fashion. Their splendid attire was documented by one member of the party, George Manwaring, in a first-person account: In this sort was Sir Anthony and we of his company appointed: first, Sir Anthony in rich cloth of gold, his gown and his undercoat, his sword hanging in a rich scarf to the worth of a thousand crowns, being set with pearl and diamonds, and on his head a turban according, to the worth of two thousand dollars, his boots embroidered with pearl and rubies; his brother, Mr Robert Sherley, likewise in cloth of gold, his gown and his undercoat, with a rich turban on his head.15

The account goes on to describe the remaining members of the party in robes of silver with damask and taffeta undercoats, crimson velvet and similarly precious silks. Based on Manwaring’s account, it is not clear at this early juncture in the Sherley‘Abbas relationship if the expensive garments were gifts from the shah, or garments acquired by the retinue in preparation for their royal audience. Manwaring reports that Anthony Sherley had purchased cloth of gold during their stay in Aleppo, en route to Iran. However, he also specifies that a courier was sent by Shah ‘Abbas prior to his arrival in Qazvin with horses for the English party, indicating the possibility that the rich stuffs were brought to them by the khil‘at pushan.16 It is not known whether the Sherley party realized the significance of accepting and wearing the gifted clothing as a show of acquiescence. The donning of Safavid garments would prove to be a foreshadowing of Robert’s life, who would spend the next 30 years in service of Shah ‘Abbas as his ambassador. First, however, the honour fell to his older brother: in 1599 Anthony Sherley was dispatched on the first Persian diplomatic embassy to Europe with the Iranian Hussein Ali Beg. Travelling through Moscow then Norway, the embassy was received by Emperor Rudolph II in Prague, and in Rome by Pope Clement VIII. They finally arrived at the court of Phillip III in Madrid in 1602. The embassy had left Iran with 32 camel loads carrying precious gifts for their diplomatic missions, 15 Manwaring, The Three Brothers, 67. Also reproduced in Sherley, Sir Anthony Sherley and His Persian Adventure, 204. Anthony Sherley’s original account is similar to that of Manwaring; see Sherley, Sir Anthony Sherley and His Persian Adventure, 72. 16 See Manwaring, The Three Brothers, 40 and 67. For more on the role of the khil‘at pushan, see Baker, ‘Islamic Honorific Garments,’ 33.

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which included luxury silks. Meanwhile, Robert was involuntarily detained in Iran to make sure his brother didn’t abscond with the goods. The shah had good reason to mistrust the elder Sherley; Anthony had sold several of the items that Shah ‘Abbas had given him for the initial 1599 embassy to Rome, Prague and Madrid in order to fund his extravagant tastes.17 With a reputation for being a conman who managed to beguile princes and merchants alike with his charisma, Anthony embezzled his way through Europe and the Islamic world for the next 30 years. Following this series of transgressions, Anthony would never return to the Safavid court to retrieve his younger brother. A letter from Robert to Anthony dated 1606 berates him for his broken promises, as well as for betraying Shah ‘Abbas.18 In response, Anthony penned an account of his experiences (published in 1613), in which he specifically states the book is ‘recommended to his brother, Sir Robert Sherley, being now in prosecution of the like honourable employment’ in service of ‘Abbas.19 Robert stayed in Iran for almost a decade, working with the shah’s military and learning Persian. In 1607, he married the Circassian-Persian Sampsonia, ‘kinswoman of the queen,’ who converted to Catholicism and changed her name to Teresia.20 The following year, Robert was sent on the trail of his delinquent brother with a royal credential declaring him ambassador to the princes of Christendom.21 His magnif icent wardrobe, presumably khila’t bestowed on him by the shah, was remarked upon wherever he went; surely it was a sight to see a European dressed as a Safavid courtier.22 Robert Sherley is immortalized in two portraits wearing his Safavid khil‘at . While in Rome in 1622, Sherley commissioned portraits of himself and his wife by Anthony Van Dyck. Robert is dressed in a figural silk balapush with long narrow sleeves, worn over the shoulders like a cloak. His balapush is made of figural golden silk patterned with a design of a seated female figure holding a wine bottle, and a kneeling male figure. Although the painterly style of the Van Dyck portraits offer few details beyond the curvilinear floral arabesques circling the figures, it does not appear to be a narrative design. A 1626 portrait by an anonymous artist provides a 17 Schwartz, ‘The Sherleys and the Shah,’ 84. 18 This letter is in the British National Archives (ref. CO77/26, pp. 43-43v). Reprinted in Canby, Shah ‘Abbas, 58, cat. no. 17. 19 Sherley, Sir Anthony Sherley and His Persian Adventure, title page. 20 For more on Teresia Sherley, see Andrea, ‘Lady Sherley,’ 279-295. 21 Davies, Elizabethans Errant, 114; Davies discusses the ambiguity of the early modern concept of the ‘ambassador’ as part envoy, part agent of the monarch. Also see Burton, ‘The Shah’s Two Ambassadors,’ 24; Burton examines the differences in terms between English ‘ambassador’ and the transient Persian ‘safir.’ Schwartz also discusses the designation of ‘ambassadorship’ in ‘The Sherleys and the Shah,’ 82. 22 For an account of the Sherleys at the English court, see Arthur, ‘“You will say they are Persian but let them be changed,”’ 37-41.

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more detailed depiction of his balapush, which seems to feature a design of reclining male and female figures partaking of wine. Worn loosely over his shoulders, the balapush falls away to reveal the intricate design of the coat underneath: a figure hurling a rock at a dragon (see fig. 6.1). Both Sherley portraits were created as pairs depicting his Circassian-Persian wife.23 In her portraits, Teresia wears floral Safavid silk fashioned into a contemporary English dress: perhaps another example of marketing Iranian luxury textiles to a Western consumer (see fig. 6.2).24 It’s curious that while Robert is styled at the height of elegance in figural silks, Teresia’s gowns are composed of floral designs; perhaps another attempt at appealing to European tastes. For both male and female garments, there is a conspicuous presence of gold and silver. The Sherleys caused a great commotion and interest in their Persian dress, not to mention some confusion as to whose interests the Englishman represented. In 1624, King James I (r. 1603-1625) ordered Robert Sherley to discard his turban and khila’t during his audience at the English court. Regarding the figural silk garments, the king said to his subject: ‘You will say they are Persian, but let them be changed,’ indicating the ruler’s awareness that Sherley’s attire was a symbol of allegiance to the Safavid shah.25 Perhaps, as with his Van Dyck portrait of 1622, Sherley had himself and his wife immortalized in their Safavid silks to affirm his role in the Safavid monarchy. Other ambassadors depicted wearing figural silk include Sherley’s rival, Naqd ‘Ali Beg, who was sent to the court of during the subsequent reign of Charles I (r. 1625-1649) by the English East India Company (EIC). Robert had evoked the ire of the EIC by attempting to negotiate, on behalf of Shah ‘Abbas, a Spanish monopoly on silk trade in Iran, thus undermining trade for the English; therefore, this rival ambassador was sent to the same court with the aim of discrediting Sherley. The encounter ended in scandal, with Naqd ‘Ali Beg attacking Sherley with a blow and the two men in fisticuffs. Both were ordered to leave the English court and resolve their difference at the court of the shah; the Iranian imposter committed suicide on the journey home, and Sherley died soon thereafter of an illness.26 Naqd ‘Ali Beg was depicted by Richard Greenbury in 1626 wearing a figural silk khila’t in his portrait.27 Unlike Robert and Teresia’s portraits which seem to have been commissioned by Sherley himself, it was the EIC that hired Greenbury to 23 For colour reproductions of both sets of portraits, see Canby, Shah ‘Abbas, 56-57, cat. nos 15-19. 24 Canby posits that Teresia’s garment mirrors the dress style worn by English women in the second decade of the seventeenth century. As far as the commoditization of her silk dress, Canby states that ‘portraits of Safavid women in Iran rarely if ever depict them so luxuriously attired.’ Ibid., 57. 25 Jones and Stallybrass, Renaissance Clothing and the Materials of Memory, 57. 26 Howes, ‘Stitched up with Silk.’ 27 For a colour reproduction, see Matthee, ‘Iran’s Relations with Europe in the Safavid Period,’ 29, fig. 6.

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Figure 6.1: Portrait of Robert Sherley. Anonymous artist. Ca. 1626. Oil on canvas. L: 76 3/4 in. (195 cm), W: 41 3/8 in. (105 cm). After Canby, Shah ‘Abbas: The Remaking of Iran.

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Figure 6.2: Portrait of Teresia Sherley. Anonymous artist, ca. 1626. Oil on Canvas. L: 84 1/4 in. (214 cm), W: 48 3/4 in. (124 cm). After Canby, Shah ‘Abbas: The Remaking of Iran.

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Figure 6.3: Portrait of Naqd ‘Ali Beg. Richard Greenbury. 1626. Oil on canvas. L: 83 7/8 in. (213 cm), W: 51 in. (129.5 cm). London, British Library (F 23).

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document Naqd ‘Ali Beg in this role, showcasing his authority through the rendering of sumptuous silks. His balapush is also made of figural silk which appears to be velvet, with large-scale standing male figures and life-size flowering plants. The garment underneath is fashioned from a silvery silk with a motif known as a gol-o-bolbol (‘bird and flower’), possibly a satin lampas. Both ambassadors sought legitimacy in the eyes of the English court and used portraiture to achieve this end. In light of the circumstances, it is significant that they are both cloaked in figural silks as the official epresentativees of Iran, verifying this style as the height of Safavid elegant fashion and the symbol of royal appointment. Portraits of other Safavid ambassadors in figural silk khila’t include Zaynul Khan Shamlu, who was sent to Prague in 1604, followed closely by Mehdi Quli Beg, travelling via Russia and Aleppo and arriving at the same court in 1605. Both ambassadors are depicted in engravings by Aegidius Sadeler, court artist for Emperor Rudolph II, as well as by the painter Essaye le Gillon.28 The two portraits of Zaynul Khan Shamlu include detailed renderings of his figural khila’t, a polychromatic design featuring large-scale standing female figures amidst flowering plants on a silvery ground.29 The portrait of Mehdi Quli Beg by Sadeler includes an abstract rendering of a f igural silk, but this differs from the staggered roundels of the balapush in Le Gillon’s painting.30 The 1605 engraving of Mehdi Quli Beg includes a handwritten Persian inscription, which is translated: ‘Here come: as Ambassador of the Most Exalted, Supreme, Revered, Fortunate King, Shah ‘Abbas, to whom I will give my life in devotion, to the court of His Excellency and Highness Emperor Rudolph.’31 Despite the simultaneity with production of the Khamsa silks, which are conspicuously absent in these ambassadorial portraits, only Robert’s balapush represents a narrative theme (from the Shahnama); other designs on ambassadorial khil‘at feature non-narrative figural themes. Was this intentional on the part of Shah ‘Abbas? Perhaps the monarch wished to deliver his request for potential alliances through the person of Robert Sherley. Fashioning the European nobleman as a Safavid courtier, his figural silk depicts a rock-hurling protagonist from Iranian legend: the West cloaked in the mythical power of the East. The selection of a Christian European ambassador was itself a strategic move, designed to foster trust between Iran and Western Europe, and Robert’s dress may have been specifically chosen by ‘Abbas to promote the strength of his army, in which Robert had been trained and promoted. 28 Essaye le Gillon and Aegidius Sadeler are speculated to have made the portraits of the diplomats independently from one another, based on the variation in detail in dress, and the absence of the falcon in Le Gillon’s portrait of Mehdi Quli Beg. See Deluga, ‘The Oriental Portraits of Aegidius Sadeler.’ 29 Ibid., figs 1-2. 30 Ibid., figs 3-4. 31 Translation by Dr G. Malek Hedayat via personal correspondence, May 1, 2015.

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In addition to mutually advantageous commercial goals, diplomatic missions between the courts of Europe and Iran were also political and military. The common enemy of the Turks, whose expansion from the capital in Istanbul extended both East and West, was equally imposing to all neighbouring nations. In the event of an Ottoman invasion, enforcements would be needed on either front. Discussions to this effect between the Safavids and various European powers had begun during the early sixteenth century during the reigns of Isma’il, Tahmasp and in the early part of Shah ‘Abbas’ reign, when Pope Clement VIII sent a letter requesting a political alliance in 1592.32 Therefore, the missions of the Sherleys coincided with a pre-existing conversation about creating an alliance between European nations and Iran. However, Robert’s resolution to present his adopted sovereign’s interests by dressing in his distinctive figural silk khil‘at stands as a testament to the importance of dress as a signifier of Safavid identity.

Figural Silk as Diplomatic Gifts From 1600, a flurry of diplomatic activity ensued between Europe and the Persianate realm featuring elaborate gifts, including silk textiles.33 Illustrated in the Los Angeles County Museum of Art exhibition and its corresponding publication, Gifts of the Sultan: The Arts of Giving at the Islamic Courts (2011), edited by Linda Komaroff, a wealth of luxury goods were exchanged between Europe and the Islamic Courts in the vain effort to procure cross-cultural political alliances. Diplomatic embassies dispatched to Iran brought rare items specific to the indigenous nations: Tartar and Arab envoys often presented horses; Dutch envoys representing the East India Company included spices and sugar in their repertoire and, like other emissaries, included a sum of money in their offerings as well. The Russian czar typically sent gyrfalcons, sable fur and hard liquor. Safavid rulers were also interested in receiving dogs and live wild and exotic animals, a predilection shared by the Mughals.34 Although the diplomacy itself never gained solid footing – there were no agreements ever procured between the Safavids and any European nation to form a Perso-Christian alliance against the Ottomans – the missions themselves have left a great deal of material for discussion, due to the elaborate gifts exchanged on both sides. 32 Schwartz, ‘The Sherleys and the Shah,’ 80. 33 See Mackie, Symbols of Power, 370-375, for an overview and several examples of diplomatic gifts from Safavid Iran to Europe and Russia. 34 The gifting of live animals as diplomatic gifts was reciprocal between the Safavid and Mughal courts. Jahangir documents that Shah ‘Abbas has sent him a zebra with a diplomatic mission in 1621, and a royal horse that he regifted to the Hindu Raja Man Singh. See Jahangir, Jahangirnama, 360 and 394, respectively.

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Outgoing Safavid embassies always included silk textiles as a major component of the gifts. Diplomatic missions to Venice, an important commercial trading partner, were dispatched in 1600, 1603, 1607, 1610 and 1632. The 1603 delegation of Fathi Beg and Mohammad Amin Beg sent by Shah ‘Abbas was immortalized in a painting by Carlo and Gabriele Caliari, ‘Doge Marino Grimani Receiving Persian Ambassadors,’ depicting the doge’s men inspecting a length of what appears to be a Safavid gold metal-thread voided velvet.35 Among other gifts for the doge, the delegation brought silk pictorial rugs and luxury textiles. Extant fragments from the 1603 diplomatic offering include a stunning figural ‘Virgin and Child’ voided velvet.36 The velvet depicts a seated Mary breastfeeding the newborn Jesus in her lap, being approached by a figure, perhaps a Zoroastrian magus (‘priest’) of Iranian origin, who presents what appears to be a sumptuous garment in line with the early modern khil‘at . The arched flames encircling the Virgin’s head are indicative of the Safavid pictorial practice of representing holy figures with a fiery halo.37 This silk velvet depicting a Christian theme further supports the hypothesis that Safavid figural silks were marketed as a way to entice European buyers to purchase Iranian silk textiles and fibre.38 Shah ‘Abbas’ missions combined business with politics, and he often sent overlapping embassies to the same courts – perhaps to compensate for the potential capriciousness of the host court towards his envoys, or the possibility of the envoys never reaching the host court due to perilous travel. This practice may have been well-founded: in the same year that the doge was presented with his precious gifts by Fathi Beg and company, the ‘official’ ambassadors Anthony Sherley and Hussein ‘Ali Beg were refused entry into the city to present their credentials. The gifts appear never to have made it to the Venetian court, and Anthony reportedly sold or traded some or all of the 32 camel loads of expensive gifts to an English acquaintance, hiding this fact from the rest of the embassy.39 ‘Abbas continued to dispatch various embassies composed of a combination of Iranian and European merchants, missionaries and adventurers, some of whom 35 For a colour reproduction of the painting, see Langer, The Fascination of Persia, 14, fig. 4. With the Grimani painting as its starting point, the 1603 diplomatic exchange between Fathi Beg and the Doge became the focus for the exhibition ‘Gifts by Shah ‘Abbas the Great to the Serenissima: Diplomatic Relations between the Republic of Venice and Safavid Persia,’ curated by Elisa Gagliardi Mangilli. 36 Mackie, Symbols of Power, 375; see fig. 9.4 for a reproduction of the ‘Virgin and Child’ velvet (referenced as ‘Madonna and Child’) in the collection of Museo Civico Correr Venice. 37 See the website for the exhibition ‘Gifts for the Serenissima,’ which includes a fragment of the ‘Virgin and Child’ velvet in the collection of the Museum of Palazzo Mocenigo. 38 Other silks with Christian iconography were created in Ottoman Turkey, primarily for export to Russia and Eastern Europe. For an Ottoman example of a ‘Virgin and Child’ lampas, see Denny and Krody, The Sultan’s Garden, 35-36, fig. 17. 39 Schwartz, ‘The Sherleys and the Shah,’ 80.

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yielded political power on his behalf; in most cases, there was a great deal of ambiguity as to the actual role of these emissaries. Diplomatic missions from 1608 to 1611 included sending Robert Sherley as ambassador to the court of Madrid, while simultaneously sending the Iranian Denghiz Beg with the Portuguese friar Antonio de Gouvea to the same court. This overlap often caused confusion and led to misunderstandings between the host country and the titled or self-titled ‘ambassadors’ who were intended as envoys. In keeping with his business-as-politics agenda, Shah ‘Abbas charged Gouvea and Denghiz Beg with selling 50 bales of highly prized raw silk throughout Europe. Gouvea produced a customs document claiming the silk as a ‘gift’ to the Hapsburg king, Philip III; the king offered it to his queen, Margaret, and she in turn donated the costly materials to the local Augustinian order. ‘Abbas was furious at the mishandling of his business interests in Madrid, and while Gouvea escaped his wrath, the unfortunate Denghiz Beg was sentenced to death as retribution for the loss of profits from the silk. 40 As noted with the adventures of Anthony Sherley, this was not the first or last time that merchandise and gifts went missing in the shuffle of diplomatic exchange. The value of gifts given and received between European and Iranian delegations were closely calculated, and reciprocity was expected; if a delegation arrived with gifts deemed unworthy, the shah showed his displeasure by refusing to honour the envoys with khila’t. Such was the fate of the Spanish envoy Don Garcia de Silva y Figueroa, who arrived in Isfahan in 1618, sent by Philip III to compensate for the misunderstanding with Gouvea. Figueroa arrived with between 400 and 600 gifts that included weapons, luxury items with gold and silver inlay and precious gems, textile-related items including five barrels of cochineal dyestuff (a precious commodity from the Americas), a gold travel costume, and other precious stuffs from the Spanish king. Despite the generosity of the Spanish king, Shah ‘Abbas’ displeasure with the loss of payment for the 50 bales of silk was not appeased; after Figueroa’s four-year journey, he was offered only one audience with the king, and he and his retinue were not awarded the traditional khila’t. 41 Among the Safavid diplomatic appearances and offerings, figural silks played a significant role. Although several diplomatic embassies were dispatched during ‘Abbas’ reign, he was not the first Safavid shah to offer silk textiles as diplomatic gifts. In 1583, the court of his predecessor and father, Muḥammad Khudabanda (r. 1578-1587), offered the Ottoman sultan Murad III (r. 1574-1595) a green velvet coat with f igural embroidery depicting a Safavid courtier. 42 While consistent 40 Simpson, ‘Gifts for the Shah,’ 132. 41 Ibid., 137-138. 42 For a colour reproduction, see Stanley, ‘Ottoman Gift Exchange,’ 151, fig. 135, cat. no. 155.

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with the Iranian practice of gifting luxury garments, the Ottoman caftan may also demonstrate the Safavid interest in propagating figural imagery as a style specific to their workshops. Although the singular figure is embroidered rather than woven, the quality of the silk and the fineness of the embroidery showcase the skill of the makers. Set into a cartouche in the centre of the back of the kaftan, the figure closely resembles paintings from the Tahmasp era: a male youth wears a taj Safavi while holding what appears to be an oblong book of poetry in his right hand. Unlike the admiration for figural silks in Safavid Iran, Ottomans were known for favouring floral or aniconic designs on textiles from the latter half of the sixteenth century, limiting consumption of figural imagery to arts of the book. 43 Perhaps, given the Ottoman-Safavid friction, the figural image is a facetious gesture as well: a tongue-in-cheek offering emblazoned with Twelver Shi’a ideology. Consideration of this garment in the Topkapi treasury brings forth the question of whether Khamsa figural silks were part of this or other diplomatic offerings, such as the Khusrau and Shirin metal-thread velvet (fig. 2.3), or whether Iranian naqshbandan joined the Ottoman karkhanajat to produce these splendid designs, as with the case of Mughal India. Highly skilled craftsmen were known to have relocated to the Ottoman realm as early as the mid-sixteenth century, such as Shah Quli, an émigré from Iran who served at the court of Suleyman I and is credited with the saz style (serrated leaves amid curvilinear florals). 44 Kara Memi, Shah Quli’s top pupil and successor as head of the nakkaşhane (‘central design workshop’), added to the decorative repertoire by developing a stylized iconography of floral motifs. 45 However, examples of figural silks created on Ottoman looms for export to Russia certainly exist – primarily with Orthodox Christian themes such as the Virgin and Child, begging the question as to whether these were designed by naqshbandan from Iran, or by Ottoman designers and weavers trained by Iranian figural silk specialists. 46 A satin lampas figural coat in the State Armoury Museum, Moscow, is believed to have reached Russia as a diplomatic gift during the reign of Ivan IV (r. 1547-1575), and perhaps belonged to either Czarevich Ivan Ivanovich (1554-1581) or Czar Feodor Ivanovich (1557-1598). Though the details of the gift are not known, the robe is attributed to sixteenth-century Safavid manufacture, and it features a figure hurling a rock at a dragon, almost identical to Sherley’s khil‘at (see fig. 5.1).47 Bringing forth 43 Necipoğlu, ‘Early Modern Floral,’ 139. 44 Munroe, ‘Silks from Ottoman Turkey.’ 45 Denny and Krody, The Sultan’s Garden, 17-20. 46 Ibid., 36, fig. 17. 47 Scarce, ‘Safavid Dress and Europe,’ 59. For a colour reproduction, see fig. 20 on the same page. Lassikova proposes that the figure is the legendary character of Hushang in Ferdowsi’s Shahnama; see Lassikova, ‘Hushang the Dragon-Slayer,’ 32. A group of velvets and lampas silks feature this narrative scene from

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again the possibility of this figural silk theme encouraging an alliance between ruling powers against the Turks, with the protagonist representing their combined military strength, the symbolic coat was sent home with a Russian diplomat as a khil‘at as a gift from the Safavid Shah.48 In a political context, figural silks held great potential to communicate messages as well as retaining their association with Safavid workmanship, and were disseminated through trade as well as diplomatic offerings. A large cache of silk figural velvets now residing at Rosenborg Castle in Copenhagen were sent as a diplomatic offering with the 1637-1638 embassy that visited Shah Safi (r. 1629-1642) on behalf of the Duke of Holstein-Gottorp, Frederick III. Recorded by Secretary Adam Olearius, the embassy was sent to Isfahan on a mission to obtain favourable trading privileges for raw silk and other commodities. Analyzed in detail by Carol Bier in The Persian Velvets at Rosenborg, the designs include both floral and large-scale figural designs, featuring figural designs of a wine drinker, a supplicant, a young woman holding a flower and a falconer with his page.49 This iconography represents a departure from narrative themes, suggesting that the messages sent through silks during the reign of ‘Abbas and his predecessors had perhaps been lost on its audience, or proved unpopular in the global market. Despite the absence of overt narrative references, the themes nevertheless resonate with common tropes from Persian Sufi poetry discussed in Part I. The Holstein-Gottorp ambassadors reportedly received a horse and a khil‘at in addition to ‘a hundred and five assorted pieces of silks’ during their farewell audience.50 It is believed that the Persian velvets at Rosenborg were among the assorted silks; if so, the diplomatic gifts to the crown and personal gifts in the form of khil‘at seem to have been delivered to the ambassadors simultaneously in this case, as reciprocity to the gifts provided by the delegation. Sharing the aim of other the Shahnama – one of the few narrative designs not featuring characters from the Khamsa. Several of these fragments are believed to have been captured as booty from the Safavids by Ottoman victors in the mid-sixteenth century and used as decoration in an imperial tent. Fashioned into medallion shapes similar to the Khusrau and Shirin fragments (figs 2.5 and 2.6), they are from a royal tent used by Kara Mustapha Pasha, and probably transferred from the Turkish army to Prince Sanguszko, a general in the army of John Sobieski, during the siege of Vienna in 1683. For velvet figural silks in this group, see the fragments at the Metropolitan Museum (27.51.1 and 1972.189), the Yale University Art Gallery (1937.4624), and at the Museum of Fine Arts Boston (28.13), all believed to have been used in an imperial tent. 48 Lassikova proposes the gift was presented to Czar Ivan IV (‘Ivan the Terrible’) as ‘recognition of Russia’s monarch to be a legitimate king and dragon/evil-slayer’; see Lassikova, ‘Hushang the Dragon-Slayer,’ 41. 49 See Bier, The Persian Velvets at Rosenborg, 28-46, for analysis, drawings and reproductions of figural designs; floral designs analyzed in the following section. 50 Olearius’ passage regarding the khil‘at of the ambassadors is reprinted in Bier, The Persian Velvets at Rosenborg, 73. Bier notes that the collection was probably brought to Gottorp by the Persian embassy that departed Isfahan in 1638, arriving in Gottorp in 1639; see Bier, The Persian Velvets at Rosenborg, 11 and 70, respectively.

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diplomatic missions, the duke’s goal was to obtain trading rights through Safavid territory, a mission that failed despite the lavish gift giving.51 Nevertheless, Safavid velvets held their worth and continued to be gifted even among non-Iranians. A figural coat was gifted from the Russian czar to Queen Christina of Sweden in 1644, similar in design to the coat worn by Naqd ‘Ali Beg (see fig. 5.3).52 Made of silk velvet, the design features large-scale figures holding longnecked wine bottles and cups, modelled on ‘Abbasi style painting in the first decades of the seventeenth century. This particular gift may also be an important example of regifting in diplomatic exchange, as it most likely travelled from the Safavid court to Russia before it reached Sweden. Although the date of the gift to the Swedish court is 1644, the fact that it resembles garments and textiles made in the first quarter of the seventeenth century further supports the theory that the Russian czar had kept the gift in the royal treasury for some years before parting with it, reaffirming the enduring worth and international reputation of Safavid figural silk garments as luxury items.

Safavid and Mughal Gift Giving in Historical Accounts Despite promoting luxury figural silks through diplomatic exchange and displaying them for visitors to the court at Isfahan, Shah ‘Abbas’ image was constructed in the same manner as the Mughals. As the descendants of the Sufi shaykh Safi, the goal of Safavid leaders was to represent themselves as the spiritual and religious leaders of Iran. Like Akbar and his successors, ‘Abbas situated his reign within the Islamic millennium and promoted his rulings as the justice of the messiah; his self-image required balancing the luxury befitting a king with the ascetic principles underlying Shi’a and Sufi mystic practices.53 He therefore endorsed the display of luxury silks but refrained from wearing them as a gesture of piety. This is documented in the account of Pietro Della Valle, an Italian composer and traveller who visited Iran from 1617 to 1623, primarily residing in the Safavid capital at Isfahan. Having been granted audience with the shah in 1617, Della Valle describes the ruler thus: ‘This simplicity of character was shown in many ways. Except on state occasions, he dressed inconspicuously and discouraged ostentation in the dress of others.’54 Shah ‘Abbas is therefore documented as being grandiose in his 51 Ibid., 73. 52 This garment is reproduced in Harris, Textiles, 5,000 Years, 83, fig 87. 53 Supporting his dual identity as king and dervish, Shah ‘Abbas is documented as preferring plain cloth to the type of luxurious figural silks that he was promoting through his ambassadors. This paradox of the ‘dervish king’ and his ‘dervish silk’ is discussed in my master’s thesis: Shenasa [now Munroe], ‘Donning the Cloak,’ 13-14. 54 See Della Valle, Pietro’s Pilgrimage, 152.

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appearance when diplomacy required it, but preferring simple clothes in his private life – another sign of his inner darvish. He had no need to personally promote these expensive commodities; his ambassadors with their shimmering khila’t were a walking advertisement for dressing in the Safavid manner, a prime opportunity by ‘Abbas to market figural silks as the zenith of Safavid silk weaving without defiling his image as a Sufi dervish king.55 As the Safavids managed their alliances on all borders they also participated in a continuous diplomatic exchange with Mughal India during the reigns of Akbar and Jahangir, as well as the independent provinces outside the Mughal realm, including the Deccan, in the time period corresponding with the Khamsa silks. Much of the diplomatic activity is documented in the royal annals by both dynasties, but the accounts of the reception of the ambassadors and the gifts given and received are not always consistent. The earliest embassy between Iran and India was 1563-1564, when the Deccani sultans sent ambassadors to the court of Tahmasp. The envoys from ‘Ali Adel Shah of Bijapur brought gifts and ‘received in return personal robes of honor, and such items as jewelled crowns, horses with gold saddles, and dagger belts’ from the court of Shah Tahmasp. This exchange is documented after the fact in the Safavid Tarikh-i Alamara-ye ‘Abbasi (History of Shah ‘Abbas) by Eskandar Beg Monshi, ‘Abbas’ personal secretary.56 Beginning his comprehensive work in the latter half of the monarch’s reign (completed in 1629), Monshi – as an agent of the shah – prepared a historiography that emphasizes the generosity and good will of the sovereign, as well as that of his predecessors, through these ceremonial offerings. Primary accounts of the diplomatic exchanges of Mughal ambassador Amir Muhammad Ma’sum al-Bhakkari and Safavid ambassador Amir Ma’sum are also reported favourably towards their respective rulers. Al-Bhakkari reached Iran on behalf of Akbar in 1604, and Amir Ma’sum was discharged by Shah ‘Abbas the same year, with a letter describing the monarch’s recent victories in Azerbaijan. In the Akbarnama, al-Bhakkari is documented by Abul Fazl as having been met with honour, warmth and friendship by the Safavid shah, who inspected the gifts on arrival. However, in the Tarikh-i Alamara-ye Abbasi, Monshi records that ‘Abbas did not inspect the Mughal gifts for four months, and from these accepts only a sword as an omen of military success.57 The disparity between these self-serving historiographies creates some uncertainty about the verity of events and gifts recorded in these dynastic annals. 55 Scarce remarks that the display of metal-thread figural silk garments was the norm for ambassadors, an opinion that this author corroborates. See Scarce, ‘Safavid Dress and Europe,’ 66. 56 Monshi, History of Shah ‘Abbas, I, 193. Although Monshi’s work is the most comprehensive historiography written about Shah ‘Abbas I, other historiographies were written during the Safavid era; for a complete listing, see Quinn, ‘Historiography vi. Safavid Period.’ 57 The discussion of these inconsistencies is explored in more detail in Choksy and Hasan, ‘An Emissary from Akbar to ‘Abbas I,’ 27.

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These inconsistencies become even more pronounced when analyzing gifts of textiles, which were granted in vague quantities and specified by materials and technique, with little iconographic description. The reference by Abul Fazl in the A’in-i Akbari to the silk textiles sent by Shah ‘Abbas to Akbar (see Chapter 5) coincides with these reciprocal diplomatic missions; however, the silks are documented in the Mughal report as having been presented to the court of Akbar by Manuchihr Beg, a Georgian Christian. Therefore, the specification of ‘300 pieces of brocade – all woven by the hands of noted weavers – and 50 masterpieces of Ghiyas Naqshband’ leads one to question if this sum includes the offerings of Amir Ma’ṣum, or if this is simply a round number indicating a large amount, meant to embellish Safavid recognition of Mughal power.58 As there are only a handful of known textile designs including the signature of Ghiyath, it seems that ‘50 masterpieces’ might be a number selected to inflate the actual number of silks that can be definitively attributed to his workshop.59 Perhaps the number refers to multiple fragments of a smaller number of designs, which were not described in detail in Abul Fazl’s account. Alternately, ‘masterpieces of Ghiyas-i Naqshband’ may have simply been a designation for designer textiles created under this label, as discussed throughout the book. The proclamations in these primary sources documenting gifts given and received generally cannot be taken at face value, unless each item can be accounted for as extant material objects.60 This is even more evident in differing accounts of Safavid-Mughal diplomatic exchanges during the reign of Jahangir. In 1611, Shah ‘Abbas sent an embassy headed by Yadgar-‘Ali Sultan Talish to belatedly commemorate Jahangir’s succession of the throne. The Tarikh-i Alamara-ye Abbasi records the gifts offered in great detail. Monshi states that among the gifts that were sent: There were one thousand five hundred pieces of precious stuffs, brocaded velvets, both with gold and silver threads; silks, both with gold and silver threads; brocade squares; European and Chinese satins and velvets; precious stuffs from Yazd and Kashan; and other gifts too numerous to mention, but all of a quality compatible with both parties.61 58 ‘Allami, A’in-i Akbari, I, 1113, n. 745. 59 Publications following Ackerman’s articles in the 1930s cite Ghiyath as having signed seven silk designs. See Skelton, ‘Ghiyath al-Din,’ 262, n. 9. This is, of course, indicative of the textiles that have survived; there is no knowledge of those textiles which may have perished. 60 It is also important to consider the possibility of errors in translation; there were several words used to describe textiles in Persian that do not necessarily correspond with English translations or materials. This issue warrants further investigation. 61 Monshi, History of Shah ‘Abbas, II, 979-980. Monshi also records 50 Iraqi horses sent with gold-spun and velvet saddles. Also cited in Jahangir, Jahangirnama, with a slightly alternate translation; see p. 122, n. 2.

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The Jahangirnama also documented the same diplomatic exchange, but the Mughal record is considerably less detailed and specific. Of the gifts from ‘Abbas presented by Yadgar-‘Ali Sultan, Jahangir stated succinctly: There were fine horses, textiles, and suitable rarities of every description. After he presented his offerings I gave him, on this same day, a sumptuous robe of honor [khil‘at ] and thirty thousand rupees (which would be one thousand tumans in the reckoning of Persia).62

Jahangir does not indicate the actual number of silk textiles received at his court – in effect minimizing the value of the Safavid gift in his memoirs. He reiterates, in the same entry, that the gifts for Yadgar-‘Ali Sultan included jewelled goods and cash totalling 40,000 rupees; no textiles are mentioned beyond the khil‘at .63 As Yadgar-‘Ali Sultan returned to Iran, Jahangir dispatched Khan ‘Alam with him as Mughal ambassador to the Safavid court. Noted by Monshi in the Tarikh-i Alamara-ye ‘Abbasi, Khan ‘Alam arrived in Qazvin in 1617 with tremendous pomp and circumstance. He was reportedly accompanied by an imperial retinue of 700 or 800 people; from the Mughal perspective, Khan ‘Alam represented the wealth of the empire. However, for the Safavids its symbolic meaning was regarded as a show of respect and deference to the ruler of the host country. As for the goods sent to the court of ‘Abbas, Monshi says that Khan ‘Alam wanted to present them one by one, but that this plan irritated the shah, who wanted to go hunting in Mazandaran. Monshi doesn’t list the full collection of gifts, instead claiming that: the baubles of this world were not so important to the Shah. […] The Indian ambassador was extremely put out, but was forced to comply. He selected some three hundred items, including items of jewelry, bizarre objects, precious stuffs, and so on, and paraded them before the Shah in the Meydan-i Sa’adatabad.64

Given the discrepancy of the documentation of the missions themselves, and the goal of self-aggrandizement in Safavid and Mughal courts, much of the historical record of gift giving seems prone to exaggeration. It seems that on both sides, the historical accounts were constructed to emphasize the generosity of each ruler by specifically listing large quantities of luxury goods, while simultaneously maintaining a show of Sufi-mystic rejection of the material world. 62 Jahangir, Jahangirnama, 122. 63 Ibid., 148. 64 Monshi, History of Shah ‘Abbas, II, 1159-1160.

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The Jahangirnama provides a passage with an intriguing description of the textiles used at court during the Noruz celebration of his eleventh regnal year (March 9, 1616): The hall’s courtyard had been spread with cloth and shainianas [screens], and its sides were decorated with European canvases, gold-spun brocades with images, and rare textiles.65

As other primary sources have only documented the presence of gold or silver, and specified velvets by technique (indicating expense) rather than iconography, this passage specifying ‘gold-spun brocades with images’ tells us that figural silks were used as hangings. Perhaps the Khamsa silks were among those that Jahangir mentions in this passage, categorized as one of the ‘rare textiles.’ The ruler does not mention whether these silks were made domestically or acquired abroad. However, it is well documented that the Safavids continued to send diplomatic gifts of textiles to the Mughal court. Jahangir writes briefly in his memoirs about the gifts received from Shah ‘Abbas on March 11, 1621: On the ninth of Farvardin [March 19] […] Muhibb-Ali and Aqa Beg, emissaries of the ruler of Iran, presented 24 horses, 2 pack horses, 3 camels, 7 hunting dogs, 27 bolts of gold brocade, 3 of gold-spun velvet, 1 bottle of fine ambergris, 2 pairs of carpets, and 2 felt coverlets. Two mares with foals my brother [Shah ‘Abbas] had sent with them were also viewed.66

It is interesting to note that Jahangir specifies a total of 30 ‘bolts’ of luxury silks in this passage, rather than ‘pieces,’ indicating that perhaps the fabric was in uncut, continuous lengths directly off the loom. This further indicates that the large numbers mentioned in the earlier accounts [500 and 1500, respectively] were probably comprised of smaller fragments referenced as ‘pieces.’ Another diplomatic mission from the Safavids to the court of Jahangir, headed by Muhammad Reza Beg, is recorded in the travel memoir of Sir Thomas Roe, English ambassador to the court of Jahangir from 1615 to 1619. This exchange, which took place on October 19, 1616, is not documented in the Jahangirnama. Roe describes the dress of Muhammad Reza Beg, which included a rich turban strung with rubies, pearls and turquoise, edged in gold piping that culminated in a feathered aigrette. Roe writes the following about the ambassador’s arrival:

65 Jahangir, Jahangirnama, 189. 66 Ibid., 359.

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His owne trayne were about 50 horse, well fitted in Coates and Cloth of Gould, their bowes, quivers, and Targetes richly garnished, 40 shott, and some 200 ordinary Peons and attenders on bagage.67

Despite this grand arrival, Roe reports that Muhammad Reza Beg was duly subservient during his royal audience. The Safavid ambassador prostrated himself before Jahangir and presented him with a letter from Shah ‘Abbas, whom he claims has consented to financially aid the Mughals against the Turks. The Englishman writes about the ambassador’s response upon receiving the customary khil‘at from Jahangir: The King, according to Custome, gave him a handsome turbant, a vest of gould, and a Girdle, for which agayne hee made three Teselims [bowing to the waist] and one Sizeda or grand curtesye [prostrating his head on the floor].68

Roe reports on the gifts sent by the Safavids, including silk textiles: 7 camells laden with with veluett, two Sutes of Europe Arras (which I suppose was Venetian hangings of veluett with Gould, not Arras), two chestes of Persian hangings, […] one Camell laden with Persian Cloth of Gould, 8 Carpettes of silke.69

Roe informs his readers that velvet is used frequently as furnishings, including bolsters, cushions, valences and hangings edged with pearls and jewels that adorn royal tents in encampments.70 On the varying quality of velvets, he comments that Chinese velvets are considered inferior to those produced elsewhere. Roe describes a meeting of the governor of Surat on October 9, 1615, during which the governor inspected the gifts brought for Jahangir from the English court. Included in the gifts was a carriage lined with ‘ill veluett of the Chinoyse [Chinese velvet]’; Roe reports that the governor scorned it as ‘little and poore’ a response that Roe reports to King James via a letter to the East India Company, dated November 24, 1615.71 The Mughal preference for Safavid velvets continued into the reign of Shah Jahan, as documented by the Hindu state secretary Chandar Bhan in Tarikh-i Rajahaa-yi Dihli (A history of the kings of Delhi). Chandar Bhan notes that on Noruz the palace walls were decorated with ‘makhmal-i kaashaan-i’ (‘velvets from Kashan’); and that while on military campaigns, the royal tents in the encampment included 67 Roe, The Embassy of Sir Thomas Roe, I, 295. 68 Ibid., 296. 69 Ibid. 70 Ibid., 144. 71 Ibid., 67 and 97.

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lavish decoration with hangings of luxury silk, including Safavid velvets.72 The never-ending pursuit of territory through various military campaigns, as well as the Mughal penchant for nomadic life, provided ample opportunities to display rich silk textiles in these temporary royal domiciles, as well as representing the grandeur of the court across the vast realm.73 In other situations, precious stuffs are spread on the ground for the ruler to ride upon when approaching a destination, such as Jahangir’s visit to Asaf Khan, on March 27, 1616. In preparation to receive his royal visitor, Jahangir writes that his brother-in-law ‘had spread the road with velvets and brocades I was told are worth ten thousand rupees.’74

Figural Silks at the Mughal Court There are many examples, both textual and pictorial, indicating the use of figural silks at the Mughal court. Jahangir documents several occasions in the Jahangirnama during which his son Khurram (the future Shah Jahan) is gifted khil‘at and lengths of cloth made of precious stuffs.75 These may be the figural silks represented in portraits during his reign, such as the bolster in ‘The Emperor Shah Jahan with His Son Dara Shikoh’ (fig. 5.1), discussed in Chapter 5. Other figural silks also appear in contemporary album paintings, such as the portrait of Inayat Khan in ‘Four Portraits…,’ also part of the Shah Jahan Album at the Metropolitan Museum (55.121.10.29).76 The courtier is depicted holding a quiver made of gold figural silk with standing female figures, as well as pants made of red figural silk with male figures, perhaps a khil‘at gifted to him from his sovereign. However, the male figures do not display the turbans seen on the bolster silk; rather, they are wearing close-fitting hats with a soft, elongated centre and small upturned brims. Their multilayered garments include a hip-length jacket with short sleeves, painted gold perhaps to represent a metal-thread brocade, and at least one figure wears a floor-length robe underneath. A seated figure also displays the same cap and jacket, perched on 72 See Kinra, Writing Self, Writing Empire. Chapter 3, ‘Chandar Bahn Brahman and the Cultural World of the Indo-Persian State Secretary,’ examines this historical source, reproducing two passages referencing the use of ‘velvets from Kashan’ (makhmal-i kāshani) in the royal context. See pp. 128 and 131. 73 For a discussion of the Mughal preference for nomadic life, see Balabanlilar, ‘The Emperor Jahangir and the Pursuit of Pleasure.’ 74 Jahangir, Jahangirnama, 191-192. The laying of precious cloth and jewels on the ground for a ruler to ride upon when approaching his destination is a pre-Islamic Persian custom and is referenced in Nizami’s ‘Khusrau and Shirin.’ See Chelkowski, Mirror of the Invisible World, 39. 75 See Jahangir, Jahangirnama, 184, 197 and 259. 76 The full-page folio at the Metropolitan Museum includes three other portraits; Inayat Khan is depicted in the upper right quadrant. ‘Portrait of Inayat Khan’ is published in Jahangir, Jahangirnama, 104; also in Welch et al., The Emperor’s Album, cat. no. 26.

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what could represent a small throne. Little is known of this Inayat Khan, except that he was addicted to opium and wine. He became very ill and emaciated at the end of his life, a condition which Jahangir immortalized in a painting by Govordhan, and his death is documented in the Jahangirnama.77 The two portraits seem to have been commissioned to memorialize the wax and wane of the courtier’s success. Does Jahangir fixate on the demise of this mid-ranking official as a metaphor of the fleeting nature of existence, reaffirming another Sufi metaphor for his self-important elite readers? Another depiction of a courtier in gold figural silk appears in the Padshahnama, a superbly illustrated manuscript documenting major events during the reign of Shah Jahan. Completed between 1630 and 1657, the jewel-like paintings include detailed portraiture as well as textiles and garments. Folios 50B and 51A depict Shah Jahan receiving his three eldest sons and his father-in-law, Asaf Khan, during his accession ceremonies in Lahore. On the left side of folio 50B (dated 1630), one of the guests at the court wears the large striped Safavid turban of the ‘Abbasi style and a gold silk balapush with large-scale seated male figures. The person represented has been identified as Riza Bahadur (Khidmat Parast Khan), a high-ranking military commander (d. 1629), who appears throughout other folios of the manuscript as well.78 In the hierarchical arrangement of the painting, Riza Bahadur is placed approximately in the middle, indicating a relatively high rank in Shah Jahan’s court. Notably, in other Padshahnama depictions Riza Bahadur does not wear a figural silk garment; quite likely, the balapush depicted in folio 50B was an honorific khil‘at gifted to him by the sovereign and included in the painting to indicate royal favour.79 The brilliance of this gold garment obscures the circumstances that led to his rise in rank at the court, which was received for carrying out the grisly death or dismemberment of five key family members who may have challenged Jahan’s accession to the Mughal throne.80 Were figural textiles such as these regifted from the cache of diplomatic gifts from the Safavid court, or were they silks produced in Mughal workshops in the Safavid style? Clearly, the large numbers of silk textiles sent with ambassadors to the Mughal court must have provided the naqshbandan employed at the royal karkhana with inspirational material for new or similar designs. Jahangir also 77 The painting of Inayat Khan is by Govardhan, ‘The Dying Inayat Khan,’ ca. 1618, Bodleian Library, Oxford. An ink drawing, also dated 1618, is ‘The Dying Inayat Khan’ at the Museum of Fine Arts Boston (14.679). For the section in the Jahangirnama describing the courtier’s illness and death, see Jahangir, Jahangirnama, 279-280. 78 Beach and Koch, The King of the World, cat. nos 10 and 11. Other folios depicting Riza Bahadur include fols 43B, 48B and 49A, and 192B. For the mention of Riza Bahadur’s death in battle on October 7, 1629, see Jahangir, Jahangirnama, 454. 79 See Koch, ‘The Hierarchical Principles of Shah-Jahani Painting,’ 167-168. 80 Houghteling, ‘Sentiment in Silks,’ 138-139. Houghteling insightfully describes the figural design as ‘a necklace of skulls’ that ‘revealed a killer’s soul’ (p. 139).

Safavid Figur al Silk s in Diplomac y: R are Tex tiles of Novel Design 

obtained textiles as offerings from his subjects, who in turn received them from Persian sources. On August 5, 1619, he wrote in the Jahangirnama of a visit to the Gulafshan garden near the Jamuna River. Following a quatrain on springtime among the flowers, he changed the topic abruptly to write: Because the garden mentioned above is in the care of Khwaja Jahan, he presented as an offering pieces of gold brocade of novel design that had recently been brought to him from Persia. I selected what I liked and gave him back the rest.81

Jahangir seems determined to document both the giver of the silk and the quality of his gift. Although there is no mention of the iconography used to create the ‘novel design’ of the Persian silks, this passage clearly represents the creative inspiration that came to India by way of Iran, and the potential adaptation of motifs. Passages such as these clearly indicate that such textiles were precious and intended for royal use. Diplomatic gifts of textiles from the Safavids to the Mughal court continued throughout the seventeenth century. There is ample documentation on gifts from Shah ‘Abbas II sent to the court of Mughal ‘Alamgir in 1661. The ambassador, Budaq Beg, was recorded by French physician Francois Bernier as having brought a large pearl, and several lengths of ‘brocade’ of floral design among other gifts.82 However, the latter half of the seventeenth century witnessed a decline in figural silk production in favour of singular floral designs resembling botanical studies, or designs with the popular gol-o-bolbol motif and other stylized floral motifs from both Mughal and Safavid looms. Though many of these designs also correspond with Sufi poetic language and metaphor, the Khamsa designs do not reappear on silk textiles in the Persianate world after the mid-seventeenth century. Seemingly lost to the annals of design history, either the naqshbandan no longer possessed the high-end skills to create these specialized silks, or the penchant for figural themes fell out of fashion with the Persianate elite in Iran and India.

Works Cited ‘Allami, Abul Fazl. The A’in-i Akbari by Abul Fazl ‘Allami, Translated from the Original Persian. Translated by Heinrich Blochmann. 3 vols. Calcutta: The Asiatic Society of Bengal, 1873. Andrea, Bernadette. ‘Lady Sherley: The First Persian in England?’ The Muslim World 95, no. 2 (2005): 279-295. 81 Jahangir, Jahangirnama, 307. 82 See Stronge, ‘Imperial Gifts at the Court of Hindustan,’ 171.

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Arthur, Kate. ‘“You will say they are Persian but let them be changed”: Robert and Teresa Sherley’s Embassy to the Court of James.’ In Britain and the Muslim World: Historical Perspectives, ed. Gerald MacLean, 37-51. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2011. Baker, Patricia L. ‘Islamic Honorific Garments.’ Costume: The Journal of the Costume Society 25, no. 1 (1991): 25-35. Balabanlilar, Lisa. ‘The Emperor Jahangir and the Pursuit of Pleasure.’ Journal of the Asiatic Society of Great Britain and Ireland, third series, 19, no. 2 (2009): 173-186. Beach, Milo Cleveland, and Ebba Koch, eds. The King of the World: The Padshahnama: An Imperial Mughal Manuscript from the Royal Library, Windsor Castle. London: Royal Collection, 2003. Bier, Carol. The Persian Velvets at Rosenborg. Copenhagen: De Danske Kongers Kronologiske, 1995. Burton, Jonathan. ‘The Shah’s Two Ambassadors: The Travels of the Three English Brothers and the Global Early Modern.’ In Emissaries in Early Modern Literature and Culture: Mediation, Transmission, Traffic, 1550-1700, ed. Brinda Charry and Gitanjali Shahani, 23-40. Farnum: Ashgate, 2009. Canby, Sheila R. Shah ‘Abbas: The Remaking of Iran. London: British Museum Press, 2009. Chelkowski, Peter J. Mirror of the Invisible World. New York: The Metropolitan Museum of Art, 1975. Choksy, Jamsheed K., and M. Usman Hasan. ‘An Emissary from Akbar to ‘Abbas I: Inscriptions, Texts, and the Career of Amir Muḥammad Ma’ṣum Bhakkari.’ Journal of the Royal Asiatic Society, third series, 1 (1997): 19-29. Davies, David W. Elizabethans Errant: The Strange Fortunes of Sir Thomas Sherley and His Three Sons. Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1967. Della Valle, Pietro. Pietro’s Pilgrimage. Edited and translated by Winifred Blunt. London: James Barrie, 1953. Deluga, Waldemar. ‘The Oriental Portraits of Aegidius Sadeler.’ Print Quarterly 25, no. 4 (2008): 424-426. Denny, Walter B., and Sumru Belger Krody. The Sultan’s Garden: The Blossoming of Ottoman Art. Washington, DC: The Textile Museum, 2012. Floor, Willem. The Persian Textile Industry: In Historical Perspective, 1500-1925. Québec: L’Harmattan, 2002. Harris, Jennifer. Textiles, 5,000 Years: An International History and Illustrated Survey. New York: Harry N. Abrams, 1993. Houghteling, Sylvia. ‘Sentiment in Silks: Safavid Figural Silks in Mughal Courtly Culture.’ In Affect, Emotion and Subjectivity in Early Modern Muslim Empires: New Studies in Ottoman, Safavid, and Mughal Art and Culture, ed. Kishwar Rizvi, 124-147. Leiden: Brill, 2017. Howes, Jennifer. ‘Stitched up with Silk: Naqd ʻAli Beg’s Journey to London in 1626.’ British Library Blogs, June 11, 2013. https://blogs.bl.uk/asian-and-african/2013/06/index.html

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Jahangir. The Jahangirnama: Memoirs of Jahangir, Emperor of India. Translated, edited and annotated by Wheeler M. Thackston. Washington, DC: Smithsonian Institution and New York: Oxford University Press, 1999. Jenkinson, Anthony. Journey of Anthony Jenkinson into Persia. London: Hakluyt, 1973. Jones, Ann Rosalind, and Peter Stallybrass. Renaissance Clothing and the Materials of Memory. London: Cambridge University Press, 2000. Kinra, Rajeev. Writing Self, Writing Empire: Chandar Bhan Brahman and the Cultural World of the Indo-Persian State Secretary. Oakland: University of California Press, 2015. Koch, Ebba. ‘The Hierarchical Principles of Shah-Jahani Painting.’ In The King of the World: The Padshahnama: An Imperial Mughal Manuscript from the Royal Library, Windsor Castle, ed. Milo Cleveland Beach and Ebba Koch, 130-162. London: Royal Collection, 2003. Langer, Axel, ed. The Fascination of Persia. Zurich: Scheidegger & Speiss, 2013. Lassikova, Galina. ‘Hushang the Dragon-Slayer: Fire and Firearms in Safavid Art and Diplomacy.’ Iranian Studies 43, no. 1 (2010): 29-51. Loukonine, Valadimir, and Anatoli Ivanov. Lost Treasures of Persia: Persian Art in the Hermitage Museum. Washington, DC: Mage Publishers, 1995. Mackie, Louise. Symbols of Power: Luxury Textiles from Islamic Lands, 7th-21st Century. Cleveland: Cleveland Museum of Art; New Haven: Yale University Press, 2015. Manwaring, George. The Three Brothers: Or, The Travels and Adventures of Sir Anthony, Sir Robert, & Sir Thomas Sherley, in Persia, Russia, Turkey, Spain, etc. London: Hurst, Robinson & Co., 1825. Matthee, Rudi. ‘Coffee in Safavid Iran: Commerce and Consumption.’ Journal of the Economic and Social History of the Orient 37, no. 1 (1994): 1-32. Matthee, Rudi. ‘Iran’s Relations with Europe in the Safavid Period.’ In The Fascination of Persia, ed. Axel Langer, 6-39. Zurich: Scheidegger & Speiss, 2013. Membré, Michel. Mission to the Lord Sophy of Persia (1539-1542). Translated by A.J. Morton. London: E.J.W. Gibb Memorial Trust, 1999. Monshi, Eskandar Beg. The History of Shah ‘Abbas the Great (Tarikh-i Alamara-ye Abbasi). Translated by Roger Savory. 2 vols. Boulder, CO: Westview Press, 1978. Moroney, Michael. ‘Gift Giving in the Iranian Tradition.’ In Gifts of the Sultan: The Arts of Giving at the Islamic Courts, ed. Linda Komaroff and Sheila Blair, 33-49. Los Angeles, CA: Los Angeles County Museum of Art, 2011. Munroe, Nazanin Hedayat. ‘Silks from Ottoman Turkey.’ In Heilbrunn Timeline of Art History. The Metropolitan Museum of Art, November 2012. http://www.metmuseum. org/toah/hd/tott/hd_tott.htm Necipoğlu, Gülru. ‘Early Modern Floral: The Agency of Ornament in Ottoman and Safavid Visual Cultures.’ In Histories of Ornament, ed. Gülru Necipoğlu and Alina Payne, 132-155. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 2016. Palazzo Ducale. ‘Gifts By Shah Abbas the Great to the Serenissima.’ Exhibition curated by Elisa Gagliardi Mangilli at the Palazzo Ducale, Chamber of the Scrutinio, February 28,

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2013-April 27, 2014. https://palazzoducale.visitmuve.it/en/mostre-en/archivio-mostre-en/ gifts-by-shah-%E2%80%99Abbas-the-great-to-the-serenissima/2013/01/4803/project-8/ Quinn, Sholeh. ‘Historiography vi. Safavid Period.’ In Encyclopædia Iranica, online edition. Last updated: March 22, 2012. http://www.iranicaonline.org/articles/historiography-vi Roe, Sir Thomas. The Embassy of Sir Thomas Roe to the Court of the Great Mogul, Vol. 1: 1615-1619. Edited by William Foster. London: Hakluyt Society, 1849. Scarce, Jennifer. ‘Safavid Dress and Europe.’ In Fascination of Persia, ed. Axel Langer, 58-77. Zurich: Scheidegger & Speiss, 2013. Scarce, Jennifer. ‘Through a Glass Darkly? Glimpses of Safavid Fashions of the Sixteenth Century.’ In Hunt for Paradise: Court Arts in Safavid Iran 1501-1576, ed. Jon Thompson and Sheila Canby, 319-326. Milan: Skira, 2003. Schwartz, Gary. ‘The Sherleys and the Shah: Persia as the Stakes in a Rogue’s Gambit.’ In The Fascination of Persia: The Persian-European Dialogue in Seventeenth-Century Art & Contemporary Art from Tehran, ed. Axel Langer. Zürich: Scheidegger & Spiess, 2013. Shenasa, Nazanin Hedayat [now known as Nazanin Hedayat Munroe]. ‘Donning the Cloak: Safavid Figural Silks and the Display of Identity.’ Master’s thesis, San Jose State University, 2007. http://scholarworks.sjsu.edu/etd_theses/3421 Sherley, Anthony. Sir Anthony Sherley and His Persian Adventure, Including Some Contemporary Narratives Relating Thereto. Edited by Sir E. Denison Ross. London: G. Routledge & Sons, 1933. Sherley, Anthony. Sir Antony Sherley, His Relation of His Travels into Persia: The Dangers and Distresses Which Befell Him in His Passage, Both by Sea and Land […] also a True Relation of the Great Magnificence, Valour, Prudence, Temperance […] of Abas, Now King of Persia, with His Great Conquests. London: N. Okes, printed for N. Butter and I. Bagset, 1613. Simpson, Marianna Shreve. ‘Gifts for the Shah: An Episode in Hapsburg-Safavid Relations during the Reigns of Philip III and ‘Abbas I.’ In Gifts of the Sultan: The Arts of Giving at the Islamic Courts, ed. Linda Komaroff and Sheila Blair, 125-139. Los Angeles, CA: Los Angeles County Museum of Art, 2011. Skelton, Robert. ‘Ghiyath al-Din ‘Ali-yi Naqshband and an Episode in the Life of Sadiqi Beg.’ In Persian Painting from the Mongols to the Qajars, ed. Robert Hillenbrand, 249-263. London and New York: I.B. Taurus, 2000. Stanley, Timothy. ‘Ottoman Gift Exchange: Royal Give and Take.’ In Gifts of the Sultan: The Arts of Giving at the Islamic Courts, ed. Linda Komaroff and Sheila Blair, 149-166. Los Angeles, CA: Los Angeles County Museum of Art, 2011. Steinmann, Linda K. ‘Shāh ‘Abbās and the Royal Silk Trade 1599-1629.’ Bulletin (British Society for Middle Eastern Studies) 14, no. 1 (1987): 68-74. Stronge, Susan. ‘Imperial Gifts at the Court of Hindustan.’ In Gifts of the Sultan: The Arts of Giving at the Islamic Courts, ed. Linda Komaroff and Sheila Blair, 171-183. Los Angeles, CA: Los Angeles County Museum of Art, 2011. Welch, Stuart Cary, Annemarie Schimmel, Marie L. Swietocowski and Wheeler M. Thackston. The Emperor’s Album: Images of Mughal India. New York: The Metropolitan Museum of Art, 1987.

Conclusion Abstract Reattribution is proposed for some of the silks from Safavid sixteenth-century to Mughal seventeenth-century production, based on the migration of textile specialists and shared cultural values expressed by the silks. Nizami’s Khamsa and those of other poets represent these shared symbols of mystic aspirations of elite patrons and royalty in the Safavid and the Mughal realms. Symbolism in the story of Khusrau and Shirin demonstrates the emotional balance needed to achieve ideal kingship on earth, a metaphor of the divine realm; while the story of Layla and Majnun illustrates the transformative power of love as a catalyst for the evolution of the Sufi aspirant. The ‘trickle down’ effect of signed silk velvet and lampas designs to unsigned, less costly designs implies a general trend for Khamsa lovers worn as silk garments by Sufi lovers. Keywords: Amir Khusrau, naqshband, Ghiyath al-Din, Nizami Ganjavi, Persian poetry

This study has illuminated several new aspects of life in the early modern Persianate world. At the heart of the research lies the ability to present one’s beliefs by donning clothing and textiles with iconography representing the inner self. Love in the Khamsa functions as a literal and metaphorical manifestation of the Sufi quest for union (tawhid) with the divine creator, and the woven images of lovers meeting allows the wearer to reference – and perhaps experience – the moment of ecstatic revelation. The Khamsa lovers, penned originally by the twelfth-century poet Nizami Ganjavi and in response by Amir Khusrau Dihlavi in the late thirteenth century, were upheld in elite circles for centuries as edifying examples of proper behaviour. This includes the fallible but passionate Khusrau, whose desire for Shirin helped him evolve into a wise king, and the wandering poet Majnun who was transformed by his separation from Layla into an enlightened dervish. The beloved in each tale also embodies ideals for women: the virtues of patience, forbearance and steadfastness ultimately increase the lover’s devotion. Silk depictions of the narratives demonstrate

Munroe, N.H., Sufi Lovers, Safavid Silks and Early Modern Identity. Amsterdam: Amsterdam University Press, 2023 doi 10.5117/9789463721738_concl

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the erudition and internal mystic striving of its wearers, whose characters were recognized by viewers familiar with Khamsa poetry, especially within the courts of Sufi kings from the Safavid and Mughal realms.

Reattribution of the Khamsa Silks Based on Paintings and Poetry Examination of the Khamsa silks in relationship to manuscript paintings, as well as the original poetry, brings several important points to light. The first is the reattribution of the scenes depicting Layla and Majnun together from Nizami’s Khamsa tale to that of Amir Khusrau, based on the deviations in the two narratives. Conversely, the Khusrau and Shirin silks depicting the lovers’ f irst meeting as Shirin bathes in the stream do not correspond with Amir Khusrau’s rendition of the tale, which omits this meeting, and therefore are directly adapted from Nizami’s original. The work of both poets continued to be circulated in Sufi circles throughout the medieval era and into the early modern period. Persian-language literature was a unifying factor in ruling dynasties throughout the Persianate realm, and Nizami’s Khamsa was well known in the Delhi Sultanates when Amir Khusrau composed his javab-gui, creating the first literary response to Nizami’s quintet. Although it is not certain that Nizami was a member of any specific tariqa, his Khamsa includes a mystical-didactic treatise and several literary metaphors throughout his romances that ground his work in the Sufi tradition.1 Amir Khusrau’s relationships with his patron, Ala al-Din Khalji, and his spiritual teacher, Nizami al-Din Awliya, required him to balance his pursuit of mystic practice with his daily life. This balance was pursued by adherents of other Sufi groups as well, particularly the Naqshbandi, who believed in khalvat dar anjuman, worshipping inwardly while living outwardly within society. The ability to practice Sufism without seclusion attracted a broad variety of lay members, many of whom were craftsmen and other professionals. Thus, by the early modern period, the metaphors of the earthly and divine realms produced in poetry also emerged in the visual arts through symbols and characters in the poems. Khamsa lovers depicted in illustrated manuscripts of Nizami and Amir Khusrau in the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries canonized the composition and iconographic details for each respective narrative. Similar scenes were reproduced as silk textiles in the Safavid period between 1550 and 1650, indicating that there was still broad familiarity with the characters and stories in the early modern period. 1 A recent dissertation examines Nizami’s ‘Makhzan al-Asrar’ as a prototype of the didactic treatise and as an important source for medieval Sufi practice; see Hotham, ‘Seeing God with Both Eyes.’

Conclusion 

Since what appears as a cohesive group of silks most likely represents scenes from the two different narratives of Nizami and Amir Khusrau, this adds another element to the intentions of the patron, designer, weaver and wearer. Each narrative presents different readings on the impression created by the display of specific scenes: Nizami’s bathing scene combines kingship, destiny and love that begins as a fateful erotic encounter, while Amir Khusrau’s lovers in the wilderness represent the manifestation of physical and spiritual union. This important distinction in the two versions of the stories has never before been closely examined with regard to this group of Khamsa textiles. Without additional primary sources to enlighten art historians as to the inspiration for the naqshbandan, it is difficult to ascertain why they chose one poet’s Khamsa over another, but the question is intriguing – especially in light of the Sufi undertones of each respective narrative.

Textile Designs and Designers In addition to royal workshop production were the high-end silk-weaving workshops, such as the one owned by the sixteenth-century master textile designer Ghiyath al-Din of Yazd. Due to iconographic similarities in the silks and manuscript illustrations, it is difficult to determine whether the naqsheh for the silks originated from painters at the kitab khana or from a naqshband, such as Ghiyath al-Din. Some collaboration seems apparent between these two artistic disciplines. Previous scholars assumed that these high-end silks were produced in royal workshops, especially the silk voided velvets and lampas silks with metal-thread brocading. However, velvet, lampas and double cloth fabrics depicting the same themes were created by naqshbandan from independent workshops as well, leaving some question as to which designs were produced first, and whether they were the concept of a naqshband or the request from a royal patron. The date range (1550-1650) estimated for the production period of the silks covers three dynastic reigns in both the Safavid realm and in Mughal India. From the 1550s onward, there was a voluntary migration of artists from Iran to the Mughal court following a decrease in royal patronage; therefore, these narrative silks could potentially have been designed by Safavid weavers for Mughal patrons, or by Safavid painters for naqshbandan at the Mughal court. Illustrated manuscripts of both Khamsa narratives were in the Safavid kitab khana and, based on primary accounts about Humayun and his Khorasanian wife, the literature and corresponding images travelled to South Asia along with the artists and their new patrons. It follows that illustrated Khamsa manuscripts of both Nizami and Amir Khusrau were produced for the Mughal court in the

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late sixteenth century under the patronage of Akbar, contemporaneous with the production of the silks which have been thus far attributed to Safavid Iran. Based on the familiarity with the Khamsa among the Mughal elite, it seems possible that patronage of some of these silks may be reattributed to Mughal production.

Sufi Kings in Mughal India and Safavid Iran Silk production and end use in both empires also leads to several different hypotheses. If the first Khamsa scenes were produced for the court, this implies the ruler sought to create an association with the legendary characters for his viewing audience. If the designs initiated from independent workshops and were available for sale on the open market, this implies a familiarity with and affinity for the characters among wearers within elite circles. Whether the silks were used as apparel or furnishings, the patron or consumer had the goal of creating an impression associated with both king and dervish, lover and beloved. Several stylistic details within the silks themselves also point to the potential patronage and manufacture beyond Iran, as Mughal and Safavid leaders exchanged artists, ideas and visual modes of representation. The scale of the figures, design layout, and details within individual motifs point to the possibility of at least one design originating in Iran being redesigned in India. The added detail of Ghiyath al-Din’s signature definitively answers some questions, but raises others, such as name brand recognition and the potential of counterfeited ‘designer’ textiles for sale in the open market as well as the less expensive ‘designer knock-offs’ that still permeate the fashion and textile industries today. This is further evidenced by the fact that several variations of the same scenes are created in different woven techniques without the inclusion of precious metals, yielding fabrics potentially available at a lower price point. During this period, with artists migrating from one court to another in search of patronage and commercial trade in this active period of cultural and diplomatic exchange, these silk textiles potentially carried the stories far beyond the realm from which they originated, inspiring responses from artistic communities whose cultural and spiritual beliefs were aligned with the messages in Khamsa poetry. Despite the thematic similarities in this group of unique silks, they are likely to have been produced in at least two different locations, Safavid Iran and Mughal India, over a period of several decades. This indicates not only a shared understanding of the characters and narratives across the Persianate world, but also a way to communicate spiritual and political ideology through cloth and clothing. Iconographic variations with the signed Khamsa silks and the non-narrative silks of Ghiyath,

Conclusion 

as well as differences in design layout, weaving techniques and date range for this group of textiles, leads to new speculation on provenance and potential attribution of royal or independent workshops.

Khusrau and Shirin: Love and Kingship This analysis proposes that the signed velvet fragments of Khusrau and Shirin (figs 2.5 and 2.6) were indeed probably designed by the famed Safavid naqshband Ghiyath for the Safavid court in the late sixteenth century. The imagery for the bathing scene seems to be inspired by paintings from illustrated manuscripts of Nizami’s Khamsa (see Chapter 2). Based on the medallion shape, these velvet fragments are hypothesized to have decorated a royal tent. Accordingly, the date would correspond with the early part of the reign of Shah ‘Abbas I, but before the death of Ghiyath (between 1587 and 1595). Similar medallion-shaped velvet fragments, attributed to mid-sixteenth-century Iran, were used as interior decoration; these are given earlier production dates of 1540-1550. Attributed to mid-sixteenth-century Iran, these were reportedly used by the Ottomans for an imperial tent that was seized at the Battle of Vienna in 1683.2 However, the two medallion-shaped velvets woven from this naqsheh depicting the bathing scene are dated ca. 1600 by the Keir Collection. Were these also used for interior decoration for sovereigns on military campaigns? If so, it follows that the use of Khamsa silks in any imperial setting contributes to the representation of a spiritually minded Sufi sovereign, fashioning the interior of his tent as a representation of his inner self. If this velvet design signed by Ghiyath was specifically designed for the court, there is an assumption that viewers outside the court circle would not have had access to the textile; however, two additional unsigned velvets depict the same scene, including several details. The fragments at the Cleveland Museum of Art (fig. 1.2) and the Metropolitan Museum (fig. 2.2) may have been created by a competitor’s workshop outside the capital or for a wealthy patron outside the court, as the design doesn’t incorporate costly metal threads. Remarkable in the rendering of the outlined figure, these could have been designed by a highly skilled naqshband who may not have signed his works and was perhaps not as well known as Ghiyath. Velvet-weaving workshops were established in major cities such as Yazd, and these high-end workshops produced silks for the court as well as independently. Weavers 2 Two medallions at the Metropolitan Museum were owned by the Polish Sanguszko family until 1920. See Ekhtiar et al., Masterpieces, 224-245, cat. nos 168 and 169. Another medallion from the same group resides in the Boston Museum of Fine Arts (28.13); see Weinstein, Ink, Silk and Gold, 98, cat. no. 61.

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of compound ‘brocades’ or lampas-woven silks were divided into two separate guilds, for sha‘r-baf (‘brocade’) and zar-baf (‘metal-thread brocade’),3 indicating that brocades without metal-wrapped threads could be produced with similar iconography at a lower price point. And yet, there seems to be a Khamsa silk that lies somewhere in between these two areas. The third rendering of this scene residing at the Topkapi Palace Museum (f ig. 2.3) incorporates metal-wrapped threads and utilizes the labour-intensive voiding technique for creating high-end velvet, such as the signed examples by Ghiyath. Based on the expensive materials and technique employed, this textile may have been a Safavid court-sponsored sixteenthcentury production that made its way to the Ottoman court. However, there is no naqshband providing a signature. Is this an earlier example that inspired Ghiyath’s velvets, or was it modelled on his work later by a court-appointed master? The shape of the fragment also indicates that this probably formed part of a garment. 4 Was the Khamsa silk part of a diplomatic gift from the Safavid court, or an offering from an Ottoman military commander to the sultan after a successful campaign in Iran?5 Other aspects of the bathing scene point to manufacture within the Iranian realm, in particular the partial nudity of Shirin in this climactic moment in the story, and its omission in Mughal Khamsa of Nizami manuscripts. Conceptually, this scene presents new conclusions about the relationship between the gaze and the body in the context of visual arts produced in the Islamic world. Textiles present a different viewing experience than manuscripts, and creating multiple images of the bathing Shirin through repeat pattern design may have been utilized by a female wearer as a message to a specific viewer in a private setting. Based on these observations, it seems reasonable to attribute the Khusrau and Shirin velvets to Safavid Iran, inspired by Nizami’s Khamsa and meant to fashion the ruler and his entourage after the legendary hero, Khusrau Parviz.

3 Keyvani, ‘Artisans and Guild Life in the Later Safavid Iran,’ 57. A third type of workshop is specified just for velvets, the makhmal-baf khana; however, seeing as Ghiyath designed both satin lampas and velvet silks, the delineation for these workshops does not seem stringent. 4 Ottoman royal garments rarely feature figural imagery, and active patronage of such a scene seems to work against the uniquely Ottoman identity that the sultans were cultivating during this time period, which employed extensive use of chintamani and floral motifs. See Denny and Krody, The Sultan’s Garden, for a discussion of the development of floral themes in Ottoman textiles, primarily designed by Iranian artists captured during the sixteenth century. 5 Ottoman law required that in the event of the death in battle of high-ranking military leaders, their estates would revert to the crown. Ottoman commanders also made offerings to the Sultan after campaigns, which included both gifts and war booty.

Conclusion 

Layla and Majnun: Separation and Union The Layla and Majnun signed satin lampas designs are more difficult to categorize. Also attributed to the work of Safavid naqshband Ghiyath with a date corresponding to the early era of Shah ‘Abbas, these designs, upon close examination, display seemingly identical themes but with subtle differences. Instead of Nizami’s famous poem, in which Majnun is alone in the wilderness metaphorically presiding over a court of tamed animals, the design references the scene from ‘Majnun and Layla’ in illustrated manuscripts of Amir Khusrau’s Khamsa. However, the fact that a servant is included in the rendering is a departure from the original narrative, in which Layla ventured to see Majnun alone in a blaze of desire triggered by a feverish dream. It is possible that the servant was included to create a sense of propriety for the audience. Since Ackerman’s articles in the 1930s, scholars have accepted the second Layla and Majnun red satin lampas (fig. 3.2) as another Ghiyath design based on the presence of the signature. But compared with the dark satin lampas (fig. 3.1), there are several differences in the design style and rendering of the scene that lead one to question whether this is a second attempt at the subject matter, or whether this was the work of a different designer altogether.6 The absence of a servant or other intermediary figure, as well as the vast difference in the overall design and rendering of foliage, raises the possibility that this textile was perhaps created by another workshop. Is this a counterfeit production, or was it designed by another Safavid or Mughal naqshband named Ghiyath? The Kufic signature may be the indication that this was not an ‘original,’ though this is purely speculative.7 Other renditions of Layla and Majnun pose even more questions. The red velvet fragment from the Keir Collection (fig. 3.3) has been analyzed for its technical features by Reath and Sachs, which revealed a satin foundation with four to five warps used interchangeably, corresponding with Safavid warp substitution 6 A Survey of Persian Art primary author Arthur Upham Pope (also Ackerman’s husband) identifies both lampas designs as belonging to the same naqshband when he states: ‘The romance of Laila and Majnun, one of the perennial tragic love-stories of Persia, seems to have especially absorbed this master – who was a poet in his own right as well as draftsman, weaver, entrepreneur, financier, wit, and at the end of his life, religious’ (Pope, Masterpieces of Persian Art, 186). 7 A little-mentioned fact is that there are at least two different fragments of this Layla and Majnun red satin lampas silk, both residing at the Textile Museum (TM 3.312 [fig. 2.2] and TM 3.300) which differ slightly in the sett of the cloth: the second example, which to my knowledge has never been published, offers a tighter weave yielding a smaller design, indicating an increase in the number of threads per inch. The design is also more worn in the areas where Majnun is depicted, which were once gold, and now only a faint black outline remains. My special appreciation goes to Sumru Belger Krody, who allowed me to view and photograph the second fragment of this silk in 2006 and to the Textile Museum staff who sent me high resolution images for this study (July 2021).

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techniques.8 Spuhler connects the naqsheh for the silk with painted examples from Nizami’s Khamsa, but this is indeed another depiction of the Amir Khusrau narrative.9 Layla seemingly meets Majnun alone: her camel sits nearby as she holds her sleeve to her mouth, her lover reaching out to her. Layla’s garments closely resemble mid-sixteenth-century Safavid fashion, including the chahar-qad, a short kerchief which was folded over and placed on the crown of the head with its edges hanging down to the shoulders. Layla’s robes require careful consideration: upon first glance, she appears to be wearing a long-sleeved garment underneath a short-sleeved robe, a popular style that showcases the contrasting colours and patterns of the layered garments. However, her left hand is covering her mouth with the longer sleeve of the overgarment, so that one hand is free and the other is covered; this may reflect the style that the few surviving garments also feature, in which the elongated sleeves can either be worn over the hands, or the hands and arms can be freed through a slit in the sleeve.10 Layla’s red overgarment has three-quarter length sleeves, underneath which the fitted long sleeves of her green dress peek through. Finally, the double cloth group should also be taken into consideration. As a popular and well-documented technique predating the group of Khamsa silks, double cloth is presumed to have been manufactured in Safavid Iran. The details in the red and white double cloth depicting Majnun and his beloved (fig. 1.1) show Layla adorned in the Safavid style of a patterned short-sleeved overcoat worn over a long-sleeved gown, with a chahar-qad and aigrette on her head, also indicating a sixteenth-century date. Was the design or an extant piece of woven silk transported to another workshop in the Persianate sphere, where naqshbandan reproduced Layla as a Safavid princess? Majnun’s rib cage is represented by small hatch marks along the side of his torso, in line with Safavid drawings ca. 1550 and later, representing his wasted state (fig. 5.4). However, the outlining of individual ribs also feature prominently in renderings of Majnun in Mughal paintings depicting the same subject matter – perhaps drawing from renderings of either Hindu ascetics by painters now working for the Mughal court, or modelled on Safavid drawings that travelled to the Mughal realm. These stylizations shared across the Persianate world create difficulties in securing provenance. 8 Reath and Sachs, Persian Textiles and Their Techniques, 119-120, pl. 77. 9 Spuhler states that this velvet depicts ‘the sentimental climax of the story, where Majnun retires into the desert in his grief and forms a friendship with the wild animals. His beloved visits him there’ but then goes on to specify Nizami’s poem. See Spuhler, Islamic Carpets and Textiles in the Keir Collection, 166, cat. no. 93. 10 For a depiction of a Safavid woman wearing a short-sleeved robe worn over a long-sleeved garment, see ‘Seated Princess with a Spray of Flowers’ attributed to Mirza ‘Ali, ca. 1540 (1958.60) at the Harvard Art Museums.

Conclusion 

Deviations from the Khamsa Characters The Khamsa group includes characters beyond the main protagonists in the two romances form Nizami’s original, further indicating that the theme of love was at the heart of the messages conveyed by these silk garments and textiles. The double cloth at the British Museum featuring three sets of lovers (fig. 3.5) is attributed to Iran and dated to the early seventeenth century by Sheila Canby. Once again using the dress of the characters depicted as a marker for the date of manufacture, we see the voluminous turban of the Shah ‘Abbas I era worn by both Khusrau and Yusuf, while Layla wears the long veil and tiara popular in Isfahan in the first quarter of the seventeenth century.11 The accompanying verses in nasta’liq are not quoted from either Khamsa poet, but the scenes represent Nizami’s ‘Khusrau and Shirin,’ Amir Khusrau’s ‘Layla and Majnun’ and Jami’s ‘Yusuf and Zulaikha.’ Clearly, the overall theme was the climax of lovers meeting and being overwhelmed by one another’s presence, rather than a focus on one specific poet’s work. The final red and white double cloth depicting Shirin and Farhad (fig. 3.4) brings special attention to the possibility of Mughal patronage in a workshop run by a Safavid naqshband. In his memoir, Jahangir states that a Khamsa of ‘Ali-Shir Nava’i (1441-1501) is his favourite in the royal kitab khana.12 Nava’i penned works in both Chaghatay Turkish and Persian, whose Khamsa includes the tale of Shirin and her other admirer, Farhad, as well as a rendition of Layla and Majnun, leaving the Sasanian Khusrau out of his quintet.13 Jahangir, who prides himself on his proficiency with Chagatay Turkish, may have commissioned this silk to reconnect himself with his Central Asian ancestors. This could explain the unusual choice of subject matter depicted in figure 3.4, which features the isolated lovers engaged in various tasks. Verses woven into the textile praise the cloth and its potential wearer, indicating that the silk was intended for apparel. The final double cloth design, which depicts Khusrau and Shirin in Nizami’s bathing scene (f ig. 2.7), also brings up questions of patronage. Attributed to seventeenth-century Iran by the Yale University Art Gallery and executed in 11 For a depiction of early-seventeenth-century headwear for women wearing a long veil held in place by a second cloth and a feathered aigrette, see ‘A Gathering of Grandees,’ ca. 1620-1625, in Canby, Shah ‘Abbas, 132-133, cat. no. 51. In other depictions, the veil is held in place by a tiara. 12 Lefèvre, ‘Recovering a Missing Voice from Mughal India,’ 483. 13 The Khamsa of ‘Ali-Shir Nava’i includes the following: ‘Hayrat al-Abrar’ (‘Wonders of good people’); ‘Farhad va Shirin’ (‘Farhad and Shirin’); ‘Layli va Majnun’ (‘Layla and Majnun’); ‘Sab’ai Sayyar’ (‘Seven travellers,’ about the seven planets); and ‘Sadd-i-Iskandari’ (‘Alexander’s wall’). In context, it seems natural for Timurid literary patronage to replace the story of the Sasanian king with that of Shirin’s other lover, Farhad, who in Nizami’s tale is Persian, but in Amir Khusrau’s version is Central Asian or Chinese – a nationality much closer to the heritage of the Timurids.

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multiple colours rather than the red and white palette of the double cloth designs, the imagery seems to correspond with Safavid paintings from Nizami’s Khamsa, but the Naskhi poetic verses again do not quote either poet, nor do they reference the story directly.

Concluding Thoughts The potential reattribution of the Khamsa silks opens up a new dimension for consideration of the relationship between Sufi poets, painters and textile designers. It highlights the strong associations of textiles with poetry among the literati in elite circles in both Safavid Iran and Mughal India. By the early modern era, the concept of literary javab-gui seems to appear here in material form, as design variations of the Khamsa narratives are produced in silk to express a common ideology among its patrons, designers and viewers. One of the outstanding issues with regard to reattribution is the question of identifying the extant textile fragments as Safavid or Mughal. But how is it possible to distinguish between the two, with so many Safavid artists working at the Mughal court, and the proliferation of Persianate literary and artistic influences dominating the Mughal sensibility? And if émigré weavers are producing the silks, what is the appropriate nomenclature for identifying silks for the ruling monarch? Would they be considered Safavid Iranian works, or Mughal Indian? Applying the notion of ‘trickle-down’ theory often used in fashion and textile history as the explanation for different materials and techniques, the number of silks produced at various price points identifies a common goal of self-identification through literary characters and literary allusion across a potentially broad swath of wearers/consumers. A final point underlying this discussion of silk textile production is the probability that the extant corpus of fragments represents only a fraction of what was actually produced – possibly in great quantities that have not travelled down to us through time – representing the tip of the iceberg, so to speak.14 This idea is one that has driven the examination of each textile as a response to the others in the group. It is entirely possible that while the textile designs may have originated in midsixteenth-century Safavid Iran, the naqsheh could have been transported, copied and manufactured during this time period in Mughal India, or perhaps in other parts of the Persianate world, by naqshbandan and weavers travelling across the realm.

14 I am grateful to Birgitt Borkopp-Restle at the University of Bern for bringing this important point to my attention in 2017.

Conclusion 

Works Cited Canby, Sheila R. Shah ‘Abbas: The Remaking of Iran. London: British Museum Press, 2009. Denny, Walter B., and Sumru Belger Krody. The Sultan’s Garden: The Blossoming of Ottoman Art. Washington, DC: The Textile Museum, 2012. Ekhtiar, Maryam, Priscilla P. Soucek, Sheila R. Canby and Navina Najat Haidar, eds. Masterpieces from the Department of Islamic Art in the Metropolitan Museum of Art. New York: The Metropolitan Museum of Art, 2011. Hotham, Matthew R. ‘Seeing God with Both Eyes: Asceticism, Ascension and Poetry in the Makhzan Al-Asrar of Nizami Ganjavi (D. 1209),’ PhD diss., University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill, 2016. Keyvani, Mehdi. ‘Artisans and Guild Life in the Later Safavid Period.’ PhD diss., Durham University. http://etheses.dur.ac.uk/7492/ Lefèvre, Corinne. ‘Recovering a Missing Voice from Mughal India: The Imperial Discourse of Jahangir (r. 1605-1627) in His Memoirs.’ Journal of the Economic and Social History of the Orient 50, no. 4 (2007): 452-489. Pope, Arthur Upham. Masterpieces of Persian Art. New York: Dryden Press, 1945. Pope, Arthur Upham, and Phyllis Ackerman, eds. A Survey of Persian Art from Prehistoric Times to the Present. 6 vols. London and New York: Oxford University Press, 1938-1939. Reath, Nancy Andrews, and Eleanor B. Sachs. Persian Textiles and Their Techniques from the Sixth to the Eighteenth Centuries. Oxford: H. Milford, Oxford University Press, 1937. Spuhler, Friedrich. Islamic Carpets and Textiles in the Keir Collection. London: Faber and Faber, 1978. Weinstein, Laura. Ink, Silk and Gold: Islamic Art from the Museum of Fine Arts, Boston. Boston: MFA Publications, 2015.

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Appendix A: List of Khamsa Silks

Silk fragments depicting characters from the Khamsa are listed here with collection information. Textile designs are listed numerically, with fragments of the same design listed alphabetically. Figure numbers are listed for fragments included in the book. Khusrau and Shirin 1. Velvet fragment depicting the Khusrau and Shirin bathing scene. a. Cleveland Museum of Art (1944.499) (fig. 1.2) b. The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York (1978.60) (fig. 2.2) 2. Velvet fragment with metal-thread brocading depicting the Khusrau and Shirin bathing scene. a. Topkapi Museum, Istanbul (13/1697) (fig. 2.3) 3. Velvet fragment with metal-thread brocading depicting the Khusrau and Shirin bathing scene, with the signature ‘Work of Ghiyath’ (Amal-e Ghiyath). a. Keir Collection, London; currently on loan to the Dallas Museum of Art (K.1.2014.1337) (fig. 2.4). Velvet cut into a lobed medallion. b. Keir Collection, London; currently on loan to the Dallas Museum of Art (K.1.2014.44); fragment includes signature, ‘Work of Ghiyath’ (Amal-e Ghiyath) (fig. 2.5). Velvet cut into a lobed medallion. c. The Textile Museum, Washington, DC (3.318). Velvet cut into a lobed medallion. d. Montreal Museum of Fine Arts (1950.51.Dt.20). Velvet cut into oblong semi-circle depicting Shirin bathing; fragment includes signature, ‘Work of Ghiyath’ (Amal-e Ghiyath). 4. Double cloth depicting the Khusrau and Shirin bathing scene. Yale University Art Gallery, New Haven (1951.51.82) (fig. 2.7) 5. Double cloth depicting the Khusrau and Shirin bathing scene. a. British Museum, London (OA 1985.0506.1) (fig. 3.5) Layla and Majnun 1. Black and gold lampas silk depicting Layla visiting Majnun in the wilderness, with signature, ‘Work of Ghiyath’ (Amal-e Ghiyath). a. Boston Museum of Fine Arts (28.17)

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b. Cooper-Hewitt Smithsonian Design Museum (1902-1-780) (fig. 1.3, detail; fig. 3.1, full fragment) c. Designmuseum Danmark, Copenhagen (B21/1931) a. Red and gold lampas silk depicting Layla visiting Majnun in the wilderness, with signature, ‘Work of Ghiyath’ (Amal-e Ghiyath). The Textile Museum, Washington, DC (3.312) (fig. 2.2) b. The Textile Museum, Washington, DC (3.300) (appears to be same naqsheh, with slight variation in scale of figures) 2. Velvet depicting Layla visiting Majnun in the wilderness. a. Keir Collection, London; on loan to the Dallas Museum of Art (fig. 3.3) 3. Velvet with scene of Majnun in the wilderness. a. Fashioned into a chasuble, with detail; State Hermitage Museum, St Petersburg (ИР-2327) (fig. 5.2) 4. Double cloth with scene of Layla and Majnun in the wilderness. a. The Textile Museum, Washington, DC (1969.36.1) (fig. 1.1) b. Victoria and Albert Museum, London (916-1897) c. Cooper-Hewitt Smithsonian Design Museum (1902-1-379) d. Musée des Tissus, Lyon e. Boston Museum of Fine Arts (48.382) 5. Double cloth with scenes of Shirin and Farhad. a. The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York (46.156.7) (fig. 3.4) b. The Textile Museum, Washington, DC (3.280) c. Yale University Art Gallery, New Haven (1937.4625) 6. Double Cloth with scenes of Khusrau/Shirin, Layla/Majnun and Yusuf/Zulaikha. a. The British Museum, London. (1985,0506.1) (fig. 3.5)



Appendix B: Summary of ‘Shirin and Khusrau’ by Amir Khusrau Dihlavi1

The romance begins with the death of Hormuzd. Khusrau inherits a relatively stable empire, but he also struggles with the ongoing threat of insurrection by Bahram Chobin. He is eventually defeated by his rival, and Khusrau rides away from his kingdom into exile. As he travels alongside the painter Shahpur, his companion tells him stories of his travel to cheer him; Khusrau listens apathetically until Shahpur describes an Armenian painter who has created the portrait of a sweet woman (Shirin) on silk, that he has copied.2 Khusrau demands to see it and, upon gazing at her image, begs to know her identity. Shahpur informs him that this is Shirin, the niece of Queen Mihin Banu, and she is known for her wisdom, intelligence, bravery and beauty: qualities that make her worthy of a king. Inspired by this ringing endorsement, Khusrau rides towards Armenia, where he happens upon Shirin and her retinue on the hunting ground. The two are rendered speechless at their first meeting, and Shirin is thrilled to realize that this is the famous king Khusrau, with whom she is familiar by name and legend and has secretly longed to marry. She greets Khusrau humbly, kissing the ground in front of him and his stirrup; he in turn dismounts and kisses Shirin’s foot. Despite his insistence that he is en route to Byzantium, Shirin convinces him to accept her hospitality at the palace, and Khusrau is received with much respect by Mihin Banu. A royal reception is prepared for the visitors and the wise men of the court. After an evening of wine drinking, Khusrau is offered a bedroom and five or six maidens for his pleasure, which he refuses. He is thinking only of his desire of Shirin, and she is in turn longing for him. The lovers declare their mutual affection and pass several days in revelry, but Shirin refuses to consummate the relationship. He confides in her about his trouble with Bahram Chobin and his intention to ask for assistance from the Byzantine emperor, and she offers the use of Shabdiz, the fastest horse in the kingdom. He promises to return for her hand once he has regained his throne, but when he reaches Rum, he is obligated to wed the emperor’s daughter, Maryam, in exchange for the support of the Byzantine army. Khusrau rides to Mada’in on an elephant with the army behind him, and bloody warfare leads to the defeat of his adversaries. The battle ends with the escape of Bahram Chobin into the desert, where Khusrau loses track of him. Restored to 1 Adapted from Brend, Perspectives on Persian Painting, 5-12. 2 Here Amir Khusrau, like Nizami, uses a double entendre: the Persian shirin is both a woman’s name and also means ‘sweet.’

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his rule, Khusrau expands his territory to Syria and towards Constantinople. This alarms the Byzantine emperor, who fears for his territories and secretly sends 200 shiploads of coins, jewels and silver to Antioch. The ships get blown off course and end up in Persian territory. Khusrau accepts this found treasure as a divine gift and adds the riches to his royal treasury, giving a generous amount to his courtiers and subjects. The court musician, Barbad, composes songs about the ‘treasure brought by the wind’ and ‘the pearled veil’ that belonged to the emperor, which Khusrau has ironically regifted him. Keeping the treasure of Byzantium has created tension between the two rulers, and Maryam becomes a constant reminder of this. Unhappily wed with Maryam, Khusrau neglects her and she dies of grief. Pretending to pine for his wife, Khusrau laments the absence of Shirin, and sets off for Armenia. Shirin is pleased at his return. The couple is reunited, and pleasure parties are resumed with the respective retinues in attendance. One starry night a tent is pitched in a meadow, and Shirin and Khusrau sit together like king and queen on the throne as they reside over the betrothal of ten youths with ten maidens. As the joyous occasion culminates, Khusrau and Shirin declare their love for each other and spend the evening drinking wine and kissing. In the morning, Khusrau calls the priest to marry the couples, and insists that he and Shirin also become husband and wife. Shirin demurs, indicating that she is not convinced of the constancy of his love. Though Khusrau pledges his steadfastness, he is rebuffed by her cool response; he weeps, then loses hope and departs in a rage towards his palace in Moshku. After arriving home, Khusrau drinks to drown his misery. Shahpur suggests he take company with Shekar, a beautiful woman from Isfahan.3 Local legend in Isfahan claims that the popular Shekar is a tease; playing coquettish games during the day with her admirers, she preserves her chastity by sending handmaidens to her eager lovers in her place at night. Shekar is familiar with the stories circulating about the love between Shirin and Khusrau, and of the king’s devotion to his beloved. His loyalty endears him to her. Khusrau, in turn, becomes interested in the prospect of taking up with this mysterious beauty, and he sets off for Isfahan with ten camel loads of jewels. When Khusrau arrives at a secluded lodging in Isfahan, he sends a string of pearls to Shekar, who holds back her enthusiasm, but goes to meet Khusrau at his lodging and offers him rare gifts. The two spend the evening side by side playing music, and Shekar invites Khusrau to her house, where they proclaim their mutual affection. The priest is called in the morning to marry them, and Khusrau and Shekar consummate their relationship. Shirin hears of the marriage and is devastated by Khusrau’s betrayal. Spending her days hunting to divert her attention, she passes by Mount Bisutun and sees a 3 Another double entendre is employed here: the use of shekar (Persian for ‘sugar’) is intended to heighten the rivalry between the two women.

Appendix B: Summary of ‘Shirin and Khusr au’ by Amir Khusr au Dihl avi 

smooth passage cut impressively into the rock. Admiring the workmanship, she spots the sculptor: a tall, strapping young man wielding an axe. Rushing over to him, she asks him about the magic he uses to create his work, and though her face is hidden behind her veil, he falls in love with the sound of her voice. He introduces himself as Farhad, an accomplished artist. Shirin will not reveal her name, but commissions him for a job: to cut a channel from the pasturelands where her goats graze to her residence, so she can have fresh milk. Shirin invites Farhad to her palace, and he reveals after some prodding from her that he is a prince from the East, who was disowned by his father for pursuing his love of the arts. He promises to enter her service, requesting that the only reward he seeks is a glimpse of her face. Shirin agrees; when she removes her veil, he is rendered speechless by her beauty. As he toils, Farhad becomes overwhelmed by his love for her. He weeps and laments his separation from her; even when Shirin visits him at the site, it only makes him feel worse. Farhad leaves the work site to wander the desert and becomes a madman, rolling in the thorns, befriended by wild animals. Word reaches Khusrau that Shirin has transferred her affections to Farhad, and he becomes so consumed by jealousy that he loses his taste for Shekar. He sends Shirin a letter: first reproaching her, then begging for reconciliation. Shirin sends a reply in kind, reproaching Khusrau for marrying both Maryam and Shekar when he claimed to be devoted to her, but she vouches for her own fidelity and chastity. Khusrau returns to Armenia and visits Farhad at the work site, disguised as a shepherd. The sculptor has wasted away and is covered in dust and blood. Not recognizing Khusrau, Farhad admits under questioning that Shirin has kept her distance, despite his steadfastness. Khusrau is determined to eliminate his rival but doesn’t want to shed the blood of this innocent man. Instead, he sends a servant to falsely inform Farhad of Shirin’s death. Upon hearing this, the sculptor strikes his own head upon a rock and dies, his blood flowing into the milk channel he has carved for his beloved. Shirin hears of Farhad’s death and realizes Khusrau’s ruse; she weeps for her admirer and arranges for his corpse to be washed and buried. To retaliate against Khusrau’s cruel deed, Shirin sends an evil old handmaiden named Mah Saman to Shekar in Isfahan. After a year, the old woman works her way into Shekar’s confidence, then poisons her. Upon hearing the news, Khusrau weeps for Shekar, and understands that this is the retribution for the actions that brought about the death of Farhad. Khusrau departs towards Armenia, and eventually returns to Shirin. She refuses to meet him in person, sending servants to lead him to the palace door, then calls to him from her rooftop. The two exchange criticisms on the behaviour of the other, but overcome by their mutual affection, they eventually reconcile. Elaborate pavilions are erected across the palace grounds, expensive gifts are exchanged and the lovers are finally married.

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They pass many happy years together, but this nuptial bliss leads Khusrau away from his duties as king. His counsellors seek to replace him with Shiruyeh, the son of Maryam and Khusrau, who has arranged for his father to be stabbed in the royal garden. Shirin finds Khusrau’s corpse and stabs herself as well, placing her wound over her husband’s, creating a blood bond so they can remain together through eternity. The poet ends with a reflection on the transience of life and assures his readers that the couple is together in the afterlife in a domed paradise.



Appendix C: Summary of ‘Majnun and Layla’ by Amir Khusrau Dihlavi1

The romance commences with the joyful birth of Qays, celebrated by the family and the tribe. An astrologer prophesies that although the child is blessed with good looks and virtues, he will go insane from love. At the age of five, he is sent to school where the boys and girls are segregated on separate sides of the classroom. Across from him is the beautiful Layla, and the two form a mutual affection. As their friends spread gossip about the budding romance, Layla’s mother hears of the situation and warns her daughter that her reputation and life are at risk. Her father orders her to live in seclusion, and high walls are built around her. Layla weeps within her palace prison, and laments her situation to her mother, who is physically present for her daughter, but helpless to change her fate. Qays continues to attend school, but can only sing of his love for Layla as he descends into madness, oblivious to the mocking and stone throwing of the children around him. He leaves home and wanders into the wilderness, and his erratic behaviour earns him the epithet ‘Majnun’ (‘possessed by jinn’). When his father hears of the situation, he visits his son in the wilderness, beseeching him to return home and forget about Layla. Majnun insists that he cannot escape his fate, but he returns home with his father. His mother, seeing his lovelorn state, sends her husband to ask for Layla’s hand in marriage. Although Majnun’s father is met with respect, Layla’s father denies his request, insisting that any further discussion would result in a fight. Majnun’s father requests assistance from Nawfal, the chieftain of his tribe, who again requests the betrothal of the young lovers upon threat of warfare. Layla’s father still refuses, and a fierce battle between the tribes ensues; after a week, Majnun’s tribe suggests settling the issue by killing Layla. Majnun begs Nawfal to kill him in her stead, and the fighting ends abruptly; as the tribe returns home, Majnun seeks to lie in solidarity among the dead on the battlefield. After a crow tries to peck out his eyes, Majnun again wanders off into the desert. A sympathizer goes to Layla’s palace and tells her of the situation, and she weeps for her beloved. While Majnun is wasting away in the desert, Nawfal approaches his father, suggesting that Majnun marry his daughter Khadija. Appalled at the thought of betraying Layla, Majnun is nevertheless a dutiful son, and he complies with his father’s wishes. After an elaborate wedding celebration, Majnun meets his wife in the bridal chamber, but all he can do is weep. Ashamed of Majnun’s unwillingness 1

Adapted from Brend, Perspectives on Persian Painting, 12-17.

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to consummate the marriage, his parents and friends are aghast. News reaches Layla, who almost dies of sorrow at the news of the marriage and sends a messenger to carry a letter to Majnun. She reproaches Majnun for his lack of fidelity, but sends a blessing for his wife. Majnun replies in kind with a declaration for his singular affection for Layla, his obligation to marry for the sake of his parents, and he promises to divorce Khadija before the marriage is consummated. Layla is reassured of his love, but their separation ensues. Majnun is visited in the desert by his friends, who convince him to socialize with them in a garden in the springtime. Oblivious to the party, Majnun is captivated by the song of a nightingale, and he composes verses for his absent beloved, Layla. Returning to the desert wilderness, Majnun is surrounded by wild animals that empathize with his savage, unkempt state. One day, as he wanders in the midday heat, he finds a wounded stray dog near Layla’s camp, and he cradles it in his lap. He praises the dog for his fidelity and declares that if the dog places his face in the dust at Layla’s doorstep, it is by proxy Majnun prostrating himself at the feet of his beloved. After another year of weeping for her lover, Layla falls ill. In a fever-induced state, she dreams that she sees Majnun; she washes his dwelling with tears and composes love poetry for him. When Layla awakens to find herself alone, she is alarmingly distraught; her companions are speechless and cannot stop her from preparing a camel and palanquin to journey into the wilderness in search of Majnun. She finds him in a rocky outcrop on the mountainside, his head resting on thorns, surrounded by wild animals. Instead of attacking, his horde flees upon seeing her, and Layla takes Majnun’s head on her lap and weeps over him. As her scent reaches him, he awakens, only to faint upon sight of her. Reviving one another and speaking of their shared dreams, the lovers finally unite, fulfilling their desire without fully consummating the relationship. The two remain together until sunset; Majnun is terror stricken as Layla prepares to return home. They part in tears, singing the verses they have composed for one another. Majnun continues to wander ceaselessly with his animals, lamenting the inseparable nature of joy and pain. Layla sings of death as the only escape from her misery. One day, as Layla is in the garden with her companions, they are visited by one of Majnun’s sympathizers, who sings some verses to Layla in an effort to get her attention. She begs for news of her beloved, and the singer falsely tells her that Majnun has died. Layla falls to the ground, and the effects of this ruse cannot be undone. She is returned home, but never recovers. As Layla nears her inevitable death, she asks her mother to sew a piece of Majnun’s tattered garment to her shroud, praying that they will be united in death. Majnun hears the news of Layla’s illness, but reaches her residence as the bier is carried out followed by the mourning family. To the shock of all, he smiles and bows

Appendix C: Summary of ‘Ma jnun and L ayl a’ by Amir Khusr au Dihl avi 

to the ground, joyfully singing that he will soon be reunited with his beloved. As her body is laid in the earth, Majnun leaps into the grave and embraces the body. The family is outraged, and they leap into the grave and kill him with daggers. Though Layla’s family tries to pull them apart they find the two corpses interlocked, and the lovers cannot be separated. The elders of the tribe declare that the love of Layla and Majnun was one of divine mystery. The lovers are buried together, and the poet ends his rendition of the tale with a postscript on the transient nature of life and the happy condition of his poetic predecessor, Nizami, whose passing has freed him from the troubles of this life.

229



Glossary of Textile Terms

Brocade A type of woven fabric in which there are discontinuous weft threads on the surface of the cloth that are supplementary to the basic structure and contribute to the overall pattern. The general term ‘brocade’ is often used to denote fabrics with complex patterning Compound Weave A weave structure in which there is more than one set of warps and more than one set of wefts Design Repeat In weaving, the minimum number of threads required to create the full unit of a design, which is then multiplied throughout the textile. The basic design unit can be arranged as a straight or point repeat; in a straight repeat, the design unit does not change direction throughout the design. In a point repeat, the design unit mirrors itself horizontally or vertically, and sometimes both, creating a fourfold symmetrical design Drawloom A loom which can create figured fabrics using compound weave structures, such as lampas, through the mechanics of a series of figure harnesses that control the lifting and lowering of warp threads. The traditional drawloom functioned with at least two people, the weaver who controlled the treadles (floor pedals) and the ‘draw boy’ who was responsible for lifting and lowering the harnesses controlling the threads according to the design, creating the pattern. The Persian-style drawloom is believed to date back to the Sasanian era (fifth or sixth century CE) Double Cloth A textile in which two cloths are woven simultaneously, requiring two complete sets of warps and wefts. Often the resulting textile is woven in at least two contrasting colours for effect, such as the red and white double cloths (figs 10-12) or the polychromatic double cloth (fig. 13), and are reversible. The most popular weave structures used to create double cloth are tabby (plain weave) or twill Figural Cloth (also Figured) A cloth with a detailed pattern including animal or human figures, often woven in silk; see drawloom and lampas Jama A crossover robe worn in India and surrounding areas. Redesigned during the Mughal period by Akbar (r. 1556-1605), this developed into a full-skirted male garment with ties on the right side (for Muslims) or the left side (for Hindus)

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Lampas A compound weave structure used to create figural cloth, usually incorporating metal or metal-wrapped threads. Lampas-woven silks are generally formed by a combination of two interconnected weave structures: a foundation or ground weave, and a pattern weave comprised of tabby, twill and/or satin bindings. Requiring two warps, lampas was developed to incorporate the stiff metal on the surface of the cloth without compromising the flexibility of the cloth or intricate design details of the imagery (also see satin lampas) Layout (also Design Layout) The repeat patterning on a textile, which determines the placement of the design repeat unit. Basic layouts can be arranged in straight repeats, in which the main unit is set up like a grid; brick repeats, which alters the horizontal placement in each row; or drop repeats, which alter the vertical placement in each row. From these basic layouts, more specialized repeats such as the ogival or lattice layout were developed Loom An instrument created to facilitate the weaving of cloth. The basic floor loom is comprised of at least one warp beam onto which the length of the warp is wound, and maintains tension while the weaving process takes place. Warp threads are also attached to heddles, which have an opening through which each thread passes before going through the beater to the front beam. The weaver controls the position of the warp threads in an up or down position using treadles (floor pedals), creating an opening or shed for the weft to pass through Metal-Wrapped Thread (also Metal Threads) In order to incorporate gold or silver into a textile, the metal must be flattened into a thin sheet of metallic foil (lamella), then cut into thin strips and wrapped around a core yarn, usually silk. Wrapping can be ‘Z-twist’ or ‘S-twist,’ respectively referencing counterclockwise and clockwise spinning directions, the former more commonly seen in Safavid silks and the latter in Mughal examples. Sometimes the thin strips are used flat. This provided the figural silks in the Khamsa group with their iridescent sheen and added value Motif The primary visual element of a design composition Satin A weave structure in which each warp thread passes over four or more rows of weft and under one (notated as 4:1); a weft-faced version of this is usually called ‘sateen’ Satin Lampas A lampas silk in which one of the interconnected weave structures is satin (figs 3.1 and 3.2); also see lampas

Glossary of Tex tile Terms 

Selvedge The edges of the woven fabric developed as rows or picks of weft are woven from left to right; derived from the term ‘self-edge.’ In looking at historic fragments, selvedges help determine the width of the fabric and the loom Silk A type of soft, lustrous animal fibre made from the secretions of the silkworm. The silk industry by the early modern period was dependent on the cultivation of the Bombyx mori moth, which feed exclusively on mulberry leaves. Silk is produced when the silkworms spin their cocoons with a continuous filament of fibroin, an insoluble protein. The larvae are then boiled in a large vat, and the filament is unwound from the cocoons carefully in a continuous length. The filament is covered in sericin, a sticky substance which is removed or ‘degummed’ from the silk. As a fibre, silk is desirable for its lustre and ability to take dye easily, as well as its soft texture and durability. Trade routes brought silk fibre and cloth from the Far East to Rome from at least the first centuries BCE; sericulture was developed in Iran and Byzantium around the sixth century CE Tabby (also Plain Weave) A basic weave structure in which the warp and weft are interlaced by an alternating system of one weft thread passing over and under one warp thread. Tabby is one of the main structures used to create the ground fabric in compound weaves such as lampas Twill A weave structure in which each warp thread passes over two or more weft threads, forming a diagonal pattern throughout the fabric; when the sequence is reversed, this creates a chevron pattern referred to ‘reverse twill.’ Twill is one of the main structures used to create the ground fabric in compound weaves such as lampas Velvet A textile whose rich, supple surface is created by supplementary warp yarns that are raised above the ground weave to form pile. This is achieved by two warps, one for the ground fabric which is a flat weave, and a supplementary warp which is formed into loops during the weaving process by the insertion of a thin metal rod, and then later cut with a sharp knife (trevette); the loops can also be left uncut, forming looped pile. Variation in colour were achieved by adding ‘supplementary warps’ weighted down with bobbins, freeing weavers of the need for additional warp beams, a technique mastered in Iran. Sometimes areas of ground cloth are unadorned with pile, creating a three-dimensional surface for the patterning; this is referred in common parlance as ‘voided velvet,’ somewhat erroneously as the pile was not ‘voided’ per se, but simply left unwoven Warp The vertical elements in the grid of a textile, held parallel to one another under tension during the weaving process. Each warp thread is technically referred

233

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to as an ‘end.’ Woven fabric in which the warp dominates on the front is referred to as ‘warp-faced.’ In compound weave structures such as lampas, warps creating the main fabric are ‘ground warps’; warps introduced as patterning elements which are not integral to the structure of the cloth are ‘supplementary warps’ Weft The horizontal elements in the grid of a textile, interlaced with the warp during the weaving process. A row of weft is technically referred to as a ‘pick.’ Woven fabric in which the weft dominates on the front is referred to as ‘weft-faced.’ In compound weave structures such as lampas, wefts creating the main fabric are ‘ground wefts’; wefts introduced as a patterning element, which are not integral to the structure of the cloth, are ‘supplementary wefts’



Glossary of Persian and Arabic Terms

Term Allah

Original Script

Literal Translation

ٰ ِ‫ ٱ َّهَّٰلل‬God

‘Ashiq (also: Asheq)

‫ عاشق‬Lover

Awliya’

‫ أَوْ لِ يَ اء‬Friends of God

Baqa’

‎‫ بقاء‬Subsistence or

remaining [in God]

Bay‘ah

Darvish

‫ بَ ْي َع ة‬Oath

‫ درویش‬A religious mendicant

Dhikr (also zikr)

‫ ِذ ْك ر‬Remembrance

Fana’

‎‫ فناء‬Denial or annihilation of self

Context The phrase used to define a singular omnipotent God, establishing Islam as a monotheistic religion. This can indicate earthly or divine love. Sufis often self-reference as ‘asheqan (pl. ‘the lovers’). Denoting saints; also used as an honorific title, e.g. Nizam al-Din Awliya (d. 1325). Baqa’ references a state in which the Sufi has attained a revelatory state, which follows fana’ (‘annihilation of the self’), allowing them to abide in the presence of the Divine/God. Fana’ and baqa’ are interrelated terms that indicate the stages of a Sufi aspirant along the mystic path. Recited as part of the Sufi initiation process: pledge of allegiance by an initiate to the order and its spiritual guide/leader. Also used broadly to identify members of a Sufi fraternal order; similar to the Arabic faqir. In Persianate culture, darvish is also used as an adjective describing the mental/emotional mindset of being an ascetic, which is often irrelevant to the denial of physical comfort (as with the case of Sufi kings, or wealthy members of Sufi orders). The practice of remembering God through recitation and other repetitive movements/music, inducing the aspirant into an ecstatic state; also transliterated zikr. Fana’ indicates the annihilation of ego/ self through remembrance of God, leading to baqa’ (subsistence in God). Fana’ and baqa’ are interrelated terms that indicate the stages of a Sufi aspirant along the mystic path.

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Term Faqir

Original Script

Literal Translation

‎‫ فقی ر‬Alternative name for

(noun or adj.)

a Sufi aspirant; from the root word‫رقف‬, ‘poverty’ (n.)

Futuwwa (also fotovvat)

‫ فتوة‬Arabic term for the

‘Ishq (also ‘Eshq)

‎‫ عش ق‬Love

Javanmardi

‫ جوانمردی‬Literally,

chivalrous ideal of a young man; from the root word fata (s.), fetyan (pl.), ‘young’

‘young-manliness’

Karkhana

Karkhana-i khass Khalifa s. Khulufa pl.

‫ کارخانه‬Workshop

‫ کارخانه خاص‬A state-sponsored workshop

‫ خليفة‬Successor/ruler

Context The use of faqir is a common reference in Sufi poetry and parlance. Some Sufis take an oath of poverty and become beggars, making this term literal; the mystical dimension of this term references spiritual poverty, i.e. the aspiration of all Sufis to find spiritual union in the divine by conquering the nafs (‘self’). Futuwwa is the personal noun expressing young manliness as a chivalric ideal. Manuals used as handbooks for proper behaviour in Sufi circles are futuwwat nama. From a Persian-language source, this could be transliterated fotovvat due to differences in pronunciation. The Persian synonym is javanmard. In addition to signifying eros, this also indicates mystic longing for union with Allah, as in the phrase ‘ishq haqiqi (‘real love’). Denotes the ideals of chivalric behaviour, derived from pre-Islamic behaviour codes based on kingship and warrior culture. Codified in the Shahnama of Ferdowsi. The Arabic equivalent is futuwwat. Workshop where specific artistic disciplines are learned and carried out by masters and apprentices, similar to the European guild system. In the medieval and early modern periods, urban workshops were generally all male and were often connected to Sufi fraternal orders. Workshop employing artisans specifically contracted to work for the ruler; also called karkhana-i saltanati. In heterodox Islam, this referenced the political successor within the Calilphate. In Sufism, this references the people appointed by the pir to manage their institutions, including the khanaqa, shrine, soup kitchen, and other publicserving institutions funded by waqf endowments.

237

Glossary of Persian and Ar abic Terms 

Term

Original Script

Literal Translation

Khamsa also Khamseh

‫ خمسه‬Five (from Arabic)

Khaneqah

‫خانقاه‬

Khirqa

‫ِﺧ ﺮﻗَ ﺔ‬

Khwaja s. Khwajagan pl.

‫خواجه‬

Kitab Khana

‫کتاب‬ ‫خانه‬

Kola-yi Erādat (also Kola-he Erādat)

‫کالیه ارادت‬

Ma’shuq

‫معشوق‬

Murid s. Muridin pl.

‎‫ُم ِري د‬

Murshid

‫رْش د‬ ِ ‫ُم‬

Naqqash

‫نقاش‬

Context

Used first to describe Nizami Ganjavi’s quintet of epic poems; also known as Panj Ganj (Five treasures) (Persian: ‫)پنج گنج‬.  Building designed for Sufi lodging house, often connected to Sufi gatherings a shrine, mosque, madrasa and other community institutions. The khanaqah was often a tax-exempt institution subsisting on charitable donations waqf; also called ribat. Sufi cloak or overgarment, usually pieced Cloak (of Devotion); together as patchwork; also referenced from Ar. kharaqa as such because of the spontaneous (‘to tear/rend’), removal of the cloak during the practice indicating its tattered of sama’, sometimes rending the garment appearance in the process (i.e. ‘ripping off one’s cloak’). Master Khwaja is an honorific title; during the medieval period, the plural khwajegan was generally used to denote Sufi groups; e.g. the Khwajegan of Jam. Book-making workshop Books were created by hand in specialiand/or library zed workshops by guild professionals at the kitab khana during the early modern era in the Persianate world. Cap of Devotion This can take many forms depending on the order and region, but generally consists of at least a skull cap, usually covered with a turban; also referenced as kola-ye eradat. Beloved Often paired with the ‘lover’ (‘ashiq), the ‘beloved’ can be another person or a metaphor for Allah (often translated using an uppercase B to indicate divinity: ‘Beloved’). Gender is not implied in Persian, leaving the sex of the earthly ‘beloved’ open to interpretation. Student/learner Sufi disciple or novice. Derived as ‘the one desiring’ from the Arabic root irada (‘desire’); mentioned in the Holy Quran 6:42. Guide/teacher Sufi spiritual teacher or guide, who initiates and instructs the muridin. Painter; image-maker Generally used to refer to painters in the kitab khana.

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Term Naqsheh s. Naqshha pl.

Naqshband s. naqshbandan pl.

Pir

Sama’

Shari‘a

Shaykh s. shuyukh pl. Shi’a (also Shi’i)

Silsila

Original Script

‫نقشه‬

Literal Translation

Context

Design; image

Also a generalized term for a decorative motif or repeat pattern. In silk weaving, this functions as a thread model of the repeat unit, determining the lifting and lowering of warp threads; also called naqsh (Persian: ‫)نقش‬. Literally, a ‘thread image-maker’; possibly indicates the practice of both textile design and weaving. Naqshbandi (Persian: ‫ )نقشبندی‬is referenced as ‘textile design’ in this book. There is a Sufi order by the same name. Venerable Sufi title; often a teacher, sometimes used interchangeably with murshid or shaykh. Referencing the music ceremonies practiced by some orders as part of the larger practice of zikr (also dhikr). Religious law in Islam derived from the Qur’an and hadith. Shari’a is considered Allah’s irrefutable law, as opposed to fiqh (Arabic: ‫)فقه‬, which is human understanding and interpretation of its meaning. In Sufism, this is a person authorized to initiate, teach and guide disciples in the way of the order. Muslims who believe that the succession of the Prophet Muhammad should have begun with his son-in-law, ‘Ali ibn Talib; Islamic practice incorporates the spiritual dimensions of Islamic practice. Indicating the spiritual genealogy where one Sufi master transfers his khilfat to his spiritual descendant. Believed to have been derived from suf, the Arabic word for wool, indicating the fibre used for the garments of these Islamic mystics (a symbol of asceticism); other etymologies also proposed relating to safa’ (‘purity’). Muslims who believe that the Prophet Muhammad was rightly succeeded by his companions; Islamic practice based on the Prophetic tradition and the hadith.

‫ نقشبند‬Textile designer

‎‫ پی ر‬Elder ‫ َس َم اع‬Hearing or listening ‫ َش ِري َع ة‬Islamic law

‫ شيخ‬Spiritual/religious leader

‫ شیعه‬Follower of one of the two primary sects of Islam; from Shi’at ‘Ali, ‘followers of ‘Ali’

‫ة‬‎ َ‫ ِس ْل ِس ل‬Chain, link or connection 

Sufi

Sunni

‫ صوفی‬Practitioner of Sufism

‫ سنی‬Follower of one of the two primary sects of Islam; from Sonnat ‘tradition’

239

Glossary of Persian and Ar abic Terms 

Term Taj Safavi

Original Script

Literal Translation

‫ تاج صفوی‬Crowning headwear of the Safavids (crown of Haydar)

Tariqa

‎‫ طريق ة‬Path

Tasawwuf

‫ص وُّف‬ َ َّ‫ ت‬Islamic mysticism;

literally, ‘becoming a Sufi’

‘Ulema

‫ علماء‬Muslim legal scholars; literally, ‘the learned ones’

Va’iz

‫ واعظ‬Mystic preacher

Velayat

‫ والیت‬State or province

Zikr (also dhikr)

ْ‫ ِذكر‬Remembrance

Context Elongated turban with twelve folds, covering a skull cap with a long vertical baton protruding from the centre, used to denote Shi’a beliefs by high-ranking Safavid elite in the early period (ca. 1501-1576). Alternative type: Taj Haydari or Haidari (Persian: ‫)تاج حیدری‬. A school or order of Sufism; or specifically a concept for the mystical teaching and spiritual practices of such an order. Also defined as the inner dimension of Islam, tasawwuf references the link between Sufi practice and the mystic practice within Islam. The madrasa-educated group amending the shari’a based on interpretations of the Qur’an and hadith. The ‘ulema are generally referenced as a group, but can be referenced singularly from the root word ‘Alim (‘scholar’) (Arabic: ‫)عا لِ م‬. Often added to a title, e.g. Husayn Va’iz-i Kashifi. Also transliterated wa’iz. Referenced in medieval and early modern Sufism, the geographic area of authority (spiritual and/or temporal), associated with the head of a Sufi order in a specific region; also transliterated welayat, indicating the Arabic pronunciation. The practice of remembering God through recitation and other repetitive movements/music, inducing the aspirant into an ecstatic state; also written dhikr. The Indo-Persian pronunciation uses z to represent dhal (‫)ذ‬.



List of Historic Figures

Italics indicate cross-references in this glossary and transliterations of Persian and Arabic words. Name (Transliteration) ‘Abbas I

Abu’l Fazl ‘Allami

Afaq Amir Khusrau Dihlavi

Akbar

Babur

Original Language

Brief Biography

‫( عباس اول‬1571-1629) The fourth Safavid ruler (r.

‫ابوالفضل عالمی‬

‫آفاق‬ ‫امیر خسرو دهلوی‬

‫اکبر‬

‫بابر‬

(Possibly derived from babr [‘tiger’] [Persian: ‫)]بَ ْ ِرْب‬

1587-1629), grandson of Tahmasp, and patron of the arts and architecture. Shah ‘Abbas I was the first Iranian ruler to centralize the silk industry and promote diplomacy and trade with Europe. Vizier of Akbar, the third Mughal ruler, and the author of the Akbarnama (Chronicles of Akbar), a third-person historiography of the Mughal empire (completed in 1590), which includes the A’in-i Akbari (Akbar’s regulations) (Persian: ‫)آئینِ اکربی‬. The real-life wife of poet Nizami, who served as the model for the character of Shirin. (1253-1325) Turco-Indian court poet who authored a Khamsa (completed in 1302) with the same themes as Nizami Ganjavi, as well as authoring several other poetic and prose works in Persian and Hindi. (1542-1605) The third Mughal ruler (r. 15561605) and a great patron of the arts, Akbar’s reign was defined by cultural and religious fusion at court and throughout his empire, integrating Indian, Persian and Central Asian ideas and styles, as well as the establishment of several indigenous industries, including textiles modelled on the Iranian karkhana system. Born Zahir al-Din Muhammad; identified by his nickname, Babur. A Central Asian descendent of Tīmūr and Genghis Khan, Babur was a chieftain who ruled a small principality from his capital in Kabul and was the founder of the Mughal dynasty in 1526 (r. 1526-1530). In addition to his military accomplishments, Babur wrote a memoir that would be emulated by his great-grandson, Jahangir, providing scholars with information about the early Mughal realm.

242 

Sufi Lovers, Safavid Silk s and Early Modern Identit y

Name (Transliteration)

Original Language

Brief Biography

Eskandar Monshi Beg (also Iskandar Munshi Beg) Farhad

‫ اسکندربیگ منشی‬The private secretary of Shah ‘Abbas I, and

Ferdowsi, Abul Qasem (also Ferdausi)

‫ابابوالقاسم فردوسی‬

‎‫فرهاد‬

Full name: Ghiyath al-Din ‘Ali Naqshband Yazdi (also ‫غیاث الدین علی نقشبند یزدی‬ Ghiyath al-Din Ghiyath, also: ‫غیاث الدین‬ or Ghiyas)

Humayun (also Homayun)

Jahan

Jahangir

Khusrau I known as Khusrau Anūshirvān

‫همایون‬

‫جهان‬

‫جهانگیر‬

‫خسرو انوشیروان‬

the author of the Tarīkh-i ‘Alamara-e ‘Abbasi (History of Shah ‘Abbas), completed in 1629. Character originating in the Khamsa of Nizami. The sculptor/engineer who falls in love with Shirin and builds her a channel from a faraway pasture to her palace with fresh milk. (940-1019 or 1025) Famed Iranian poet and author of the Persian-language Shahnama (completed ca. 1010). (1530-1593/1595) Safavid textile designer from Yazd who included the signature Amal-e Ghiyath (‘Work of Ghiyath’) (Persian/Arabic: ‫ )عمل غیاث‬woven into some of his textiles, including three of the Khamsa silks. A wealthy man who later adhered to mystic Sufi practice, the expert designer also worked for the karkhana-i khass late in his career for Shah ‘Abbas I. The second Mughal emperor (r. 1530-1540 and 1555-1556), Humayun consolidated his power with the help of the Safavid Shah Tahmasp after spending time at his court in 1553-1554. A great bibliophile, Humayun met his tragic end just one year after regaining Mughal territories when he fell down the steps of his library. (r. 1627-1664) The fifth Mughal emperor, son of Jahangir, and the famous patron of the Taj Mahal. Jahan’s patronage of the arts included the decorative arts as well as architecture, disseminating an imperial iconographic repertoire of naturalistic floral motifs. (r. 1605-1627) The fourth Mughal emperor, son of Akbar, who was a great patron of painting and manuscript production, as well as other court-sponsored arts. His memoir, the Jahangirnama, provides scholars with a fascinating look at the early-seventeenthcentury Mughal elite lifestyle. (r. 531-579) The Sasanian ruler who was namesake and grandfather of Khusrau Parviz, Khusrau Anushirvan is a role model for wisdom and justice in Iranian kingship. He appears to Khusrau Parviz in a divinatory dream in Nizami’s edifying narrative ‘Khusrau and Shirin.’

243

List of Historic Figures 

Name (Transliteration) Khusrau II known as Khusrau Parviz

Layla (also Leily or Layli)

Majnun

Mughal Dynasty

Nizami Ganjavi

Original Language

Brief Biography

‫( خسرو پرویز‬r. 590-628) Known as the last great Sasanian

king, the Persian Khusrau II became the stuff of legends. Also known as Khusrau Parviz (Victorious Ruler), there is a section devoted to his reign in Ferdowsi’s Shahnama, as well as highlights throughout Nizami’s narrative ‘Khusrau and Shirin’ (ca. 1176-1186) in the Khamsa. His grandfather was Khusrau Anushirvan. He held court on the legendary throne known as Taqdis. The legendary Bedouin girl that Qays ibn Arabic: ‎‫لی ال‬ Mulawwah (Majnun) fell in love with, and the Persian: ‫ليلى‬ female protagonist of the love story Layla and Majnun, codified by Nizami Ganjavi in 1188. ‫ مجنون‬The epithet for Qays ibn Mulawwah, the legendary lover who went insane due to his love for a girl named Layla, and the male protagonist of the love story Layla and Majnun, codified by Nizami Ganjavi in 1188. Majnun is translated from the Arabic as ‘possessed by jinn’ (i.e. crazy). ‫ دودمان مغول‬The Mughals were a dynastic power ruling in South Asia that was established in 1526 by Babur. Power remained in the hands of his male relatives until Aurangzeb’s death in 1707, following which the empire was broken up into smaller principalities. From 1803, the English East India Company took control of Delhi, essentially making the Mughal shah a figurehead until the dynasty’s collapse in 1857. ‫( نظامی گنجوی‬1140-1209) Born Ilyas ibn Yusuf Mu’ayyad, he was the author of the Khamsa, a quintet of epic poems (see Table A in Chapter 2 for a complete list of works). Nizami was commissioned by the Saljuq princes to create each of his epic poems in Persian, legitimizing their rule in Iran. Following Ferdowsi’s Shahnama, Nizami’s Khamsa is the most illustrated literary work in the Persian-speaking world. His style, subject matter and metre was ‘imitated’ or responded to by several later poets, including Amir Khusrau Dihlavi, Hatefi, Hilali, Jami, and ‘Ali Shir Nava’i, among others. See Chapter 3, n. 32 for more information.

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Name (Transliteration) Nizam al-Din Awliya Chishti

Original Language

Brief Biography

‫( نظام الدین‬1235-1325) Sufi shaykh of the Chishti Order ‫ اولیا چشتی‬and spiritual leader of the poet Amir Khusrau Dihlavi.

Safavid Dynasty

Shapur

Shirin

Shiruya (also Shiruyeh) Sherley, Robert

Sherley, Teresia

‫ دودمان صفوی‬Dynasty ruling greater Iran from 1501 to 1722.

Tracing their genealogy to Shaykh Safi’al-Din of Ardabil and his followers known as Safaviyeh (Persian: ‎‫)صفوی ه‬, the Iranian Muslims of this dynasty established Twelver Shi’ism as the state religion. Safavid shahs claimed power as divinely appointed kings, ruling as both political and spiritual leaders. ‫ شاپور‬A character in Nizami’s ‘Khusrau and Shirin’ who is an artist and companion of Khusrau Parviz. A well-travelled painter whose skills in portraiture are unrivalled in the region, his flattering portrait of Khusrau sparks Shirin’s desire, setting her off in the direction of Iran on her horse, where she meets Khusrau when she stops to bathe. ‫ شیرین‬The legendary beloved of the Sasanian king Khusrau, presented by Nizami in his ‘Khusrau and Shirin’ (ca. 1176-1186) as the heiress to the Armenian throne. Historically, Shirin was a very beautiful Christian woman and lived during the late sixth and early seventh centuries, facts documented in several contemporary primary sources, including the Chronicle of Seert and the Annals of Eutychius. Her famous horse, depicted in paintings and silks of the bathing scene, was named Shabdiz. ‫ شيرويه‬The son of Khusrau Parviz and Maryam, the daughter of the Byzantine emperor; Shirin’s stepson. An Englishman who went to Iran in 1598, Sherley stayed in the country and became ambassador to Shah ‘Abbas from 1608 to 1628, travelling to several courts throughout Europe. Originally named Sampsonia and of Circassian origin, Teresia was related to one of the wives of Shah ‘Abbas I. She married Robert Sherley in 1607, converted to Catholicism, and changed her name to Teresia. She reportedly saved Robert’s life on at least one occasion and is depicted holding a pistol (fig. 5.2).

245

List of Historic Figures 

Name (Transliteration) Tahmasp (also: Tahmasb)

Original Language

Brief Biography

‫ تهماسپ‬The second Safavid shah (r. 1524-1576),

Tahmasp maintained Shi’ism as the state religion of Iran, incorporating the special headwear referred to as the taj Safavi, a white turban with twelve folds over a red cap with a tall baton emerging from the top as symbol of allegiance. Much of his reign was spent defending Iranian borders from Ottoman invasion on the north-western borders, and that by the Uzbeks on the eastern borders. However, Tahmasp was also a lover of manuscripts and maintained an elaborate kitab khana; he commissioned several literary works, including the famous ‘Houghton’ Shahnama and a Khamsa of Nizami, among many others.

Index ‘Abbas I and Ghiyath al-Din 35-37, 41, 46, 91, 172 court of 45 diplomacy with Europe 193-194, 196 diplomacy with India 198-202, 205 Silk production during his reign 21, 182-183, 213, 217 Sherleys 185-187, 191-192 Akbar, Jallaludin Muhammad Diplomacy with Iran 45, 198-199 Mughal descendance 146-147, 149-150 Self-fashioning 148 Silk and clothing production during his reign 152-153, 155, 175, 212 ‘Ali ibn Talib 117-119, 126, 130-131, 136-137 ‘Allami, Abu’l Fazl 152, 155, 158-159, 161, 172, 175, 198-199 al-Raz-i, Shams-i Qays 109 Amir Khusrau Dihlavi 19, 23, 83, 97-99, 103, 109, 147, 150, 176, 209-211, 216 Ansari, ‘Abd allah 102, 105, 122 Ardabili, Aref-i 92, 109 Babur, Zahir al-Din Muhammad 146-147, 153 Bada’uni, Abd al-Qader 158-159 balapush 78, 140, 141, 183, 186, 187, 191, 204 darvish 86, 105-106, 116, 131, 156, 198 Din-i Illahi 151, 158-159 double cloth depicting Khusrau and Shirin 39, 75-76, 217-218 depicting Layla and Majnun 30, 32, 102, 216, 217 depicting Shirin and Farhad 31, 92, 94, 109, 217 depicting Yusuf and Zulaikha 94, 168, 217 production of 42, 91, 94, 211 drawloom 19, 38, 41, 73, 124, 137, 157, 161 Eskandar Monshi Beg 198 Farhad in Nizami’s Khamsa 60-61, 92 in other sources 92, 94, 103, 217 Farhadnama 92 Ferdowsi, Abul Qasem 53-54, 56, 108 futuwwat clothing 121, 139, 145 concepts of 119, 122, 133, 145 groups 119-120, 124-125 literature (futwwat nama) 120-121, 124-125, 130 Ghiyath al-Din ‘Ali Yazdi, Biography of 35-40, 42, 45, 140, 172, 211, 215 Signature on silks,18,19, 33-35, 43, 46, 71,73, 78, 87, 89-91, 96, 99, 102, 171, 173, 174-176, 199, 212-214

hadith 117, 129, 134, 136-137, 139 Hatefi 103 Hilali 103 Humayun 147-150, 211 ‘ishq 18, 20, 77-78 Jahan 148, 156-158, 160-161, 166, 202-204 Jahangir, diplomacy with Iran 198-203 majalis 151 self-fashioning 46, 147, 148, 153-154, 156, 165, 170-171, 176, 217 silk production under 161, 164-166, 203-205 Jami, Abd al-Rahman 103, 129 Kashifi, Husayn Vaiz-i 125, 129-131, 133, 138, 155 khalvat dar anjuman 124, 155, 210 khirqa 118-119, 121-122, 128-131, 133-134, 138-139, 142 Khusrau Anushirvan 57, 61, 148 Khusrau Parviz in Nizami’s Khamsa 17-18, 23, 30-31, 37, 57-61, 77-79, 83, 92, 107, 209-210, 214 in Amir Khusrau’s Khamsa 98-99, 102-103, 214 in the Humayunama 148 kitab khana 38, 41, 63-65, 67, 150, 211, 217 lampas construction of 19, 21, 31, 41-42, 175, 183, 191, 211, 214 depicting Layla and Majnun 31, 39, 46, 87, 89, 99, 102, 171, 174, 215 depicting the Shahnama 195 Layla in Nizami’s Khamsa 18, 3, 32, 56, 83, 85-87, 96, 106-109, 209 in Amir Khusrau’s Khamsa 23, 83, 87, 89-90, 94, 96, 98-99, 102-103, 176, 210, 215 Majnun (Qays ibn al-Mulawwah) in Nizami’s Khamsa 18, 31, 32, 56, 83, 85-87, 96, 106-109, 209 in Amir Khusrau’s Khamsa 23, 83, 87, 89-90, 94, 96, 98-99, 102-103, 176, 210, 215 as prototypical Sufi dervish 105 masnavi 53 Muhammad, Prophet 117, 126, 130, 131, 134, 136-137 Naqd ‘Ali Beg 187, 191, 197 Naqshband occupation [naqshbandi] 32, 37-40, 43, 103, 175, 211, 213, 217

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Sufi Lovers, Safavid Silk s and Early Modern Identit y

Naqshbandi, Baha al-Din 123 naqsheh 37-38, 40-42, 45, 67, 69, 73, 124, 155, 166, 174-175, 211, 213, 216, 218 Nava’i, ‘Ali Shir 103, 109, 217 Nizam al-Din Awliya 97, 147 Qur’an 36, 94, 129, 131, 134, 171 sama‘ 128, 134 Shahnama 53-54, 98, 108 Shahpur in Nizami’s Khamsa 58, 60-61, 77-78 sha‘r-baf 33, 214 Sherley, Anthony 32, 185-186, 193-194 Sherley, Robert 23, 184-187, 191, 194 Sherley, Teresia 186 Shirin gaze of 76-77, 79 in Nizami’s Khamsa 17-18, 23, 30-31, 37, 57-61, 77-79, 83, 92, 107, 209-210, 214 in Amir Khusrau’s Khamsa 98-99, 102-103, 214 Sufi orders Chishti 97-98, 147, 156 Naqshbandi 123-124, 129, 147, 210

Safavi 125-126 Sober vs. Drunken 124 Suhrawardi 122, 133 Suhrawardi, Shehab al-Din Abu Hafs 120-122, 129 Tahmasp 64, 67, 69, 91, 126, 141, 149, 184, 192, 195, 198 taj Safavi 67, 69, 79, 126, 174, 195 tawhid 48, 103, 120, 176, 206 velvet depicting Khusrau and Shirin 31, 46, 67-69, 71, 73, 174, 195, 213 depicting Layla and Majnun 90-91, 99, 102, 171, 215 depicting Majnun 96, 161,164-166, 169, 181-182 fabrication of 41, 78, 127, 156, 160-161, 173, 183, 214-215 figural [non-narrative] 191, 193, 194, 197, 213 metal-thread [unspecified design] 21, 201-202, 211 zar-baf 33, 214 zikr 124

V I S U A L A N D M AT E R I A L C U LT U R E , 13 0 0 -17 0 0

The height of fashion at the sixteenth-century Safavid court was an ensemble of shimmering gold and silk, interwoven with scenes of legendary lovers from the Khamsa (Quintet) of epic Persian poetry. Imbued with Sufi symbolism by Nizami Ganjavi, whose tales demonstrate earthly love as a divine phenomenon, silk garments portraying the romance held deep symbolic meaning for wearer and viewers, projecting messages of mystic aspiration. As Persian poetry was adopted in court circles from Iran to South Asia, Sufi behaviour codes embodied by the characters were adapted and propagated by early modern rulers. The migration of textile specialists from the Safavid court to the Mughal court, where expert designers produced luxury goods for a sophisticated and educated elite, presents possibilities for reattribution. Examining textiles alongside Khamsa poetry, manuscript paintings and primary accounts, the silks reveal cross-cultural expressions of piety and allegiance in a world unified by language and behaviour codes, while fragmented by religion and politics. Nazanin Hedayat Munroe, MFA, PhD, is a textile and fashion historian specializing in luxury silks from the early modern Persianate world. She is currently Director of Textile Technology and Assistant Professor in Business & Technology of Fashion, New York City College of Technology – City University of New York.

ISBN: 978-94-6372-173-8

AUP. nl 9 789463 721738