Spring In Persian Manuscripts

(Farairan Quarterly,Nos.3&4,Spring & Summer 2000)

Sima Kouban

The present article is based on published examples of the most famous illustrations of Persian manuscripts. Among these, nearly 140 illustrations from more than 70 manuscripts depict one or more aspects of spring and their origins range from the last decade of the 14th century to the third decade of the 17th. Iranian collective memory traces back the distinct particularities of spring to the era of Kaykavoos, and Ferdowsi has recorded them in his hymn of the Musician Div of Mazandaran:
Ke Mãzandarãn shahr-e mã yãd bãd
Hamisheh bar o boomash ãbãd bãd

Ke dar boostãnash hamisheh gol ast

Be kooh andaroon lãleh o sonbol ast

Havã khoshgovãr o zamin por negãr
Na garm o na sard o hamisheh bahãr

Some of these particularities can be depicted and some others are to be felt. Such pictorial particularities as flower-filled gardens and mountain tulips and hyacinths have been directly depicted in Persian manuscripts and remained unchanged within them. By the very existence of flowers in gardens, tulips and hyacinths on mountainsides and patterns on the ground, one can feel that the air is pleasant, neither hot nor cold, and that the season is spring.
The Iranian painter1 who, around the year 1430, illustrated Ferdowsi’s Shahnameh in the Baysonqori library in Herat has relocated the eternal spring of Mazandaran, which the Musician Div praises in his hymn, to the feast of Kaykavoos in the short-lived spring of southeastern Iran (fig. 1). In this picture, Kaykavoos’ throne is set in an ivory-colored plain ending in smooth rocks standing against a golden sky. The entire plain is covered with fine bushes freshly grown out of the earth. Here and there, up to the top of the rocks, such cultivated garden flowers as roses, narcissuses and white mallows are depicted amid violets, field poppies and other spring wildflowers. On either side in the background of Kaykavoos’ throne two evergreen trees extend unequally beyond the edge of the painting. In the distance between these two trees, along the vertical axis of the throne, an almond tree with white blossoms is visible. At a similar distance, a peach tree with pink blossoms stands beyond the plane tree, and beside it several branches of a tree whose clusters of fresh leaves are topped by diadems of tiny white flowers have entered into the frame of the image. In the space between the trees, on the golden background of the sky, birds of different colors are flying.
As this page of the Shahnameh constitutes a representation of spring in poetry and painting, it may be considered a turning point in the conventions of the image of spring in the Iranian collective memory, and it allows a search to be initiated before and after it for some or all of these particularities.
The Chronological Sequence of The Representation Of Spring in Manuscripts
Among the published illustrations of Persian manuscripts studied for this review, seven manuscripts dating back to the end of the 14th century (1360 to 1398) deal with the particularities of spring. One of these manuscripts was illustrated in Tabriz, another in Baghdad, and the five others in Shiraz or other cities of Fars province. In the manuscript of Tabriz, i.e., the Kalileh va Demneh created between 1360 and 1374 — now preserved in the library of the University of Istanbul — , two paintings, namely the Unsuccessful Murder Attempt in the Bedroom and the Thief Caught in the Bedroom, in which flowering trees are depicted in an aivan on the right hand side of the picture, follow the 14th century style of Tabriz and are deeply influenced by Chinese painting, whereas the manuscript of Baghdad and the five others bear typically Iranian features. Although all these six manuscripts were illustrated at the close of the 14th century, they have particularities which indicate that their illustrators abided strictly by the long-lasting conventions of southwestern Iranian painting.

Khaju-ye Kermani’s Khamseh preserved in the British Museum was illustrated by Jonaid as-Soltani in Baghdad in 1396. Jonaid was a painter in the court of Soltan Ahmad Jalayer and his works denote his maturity and particular artistic skill. Although Jonaid’s compositions are filled with innovations, such details as the blooming spring wildflowers in the plains of his Arrival of Prince Homay to the Palace of Princess Homayun, The Fight Between Homay and Homayun, and The Episode of the Old Woman’s Plea with Soltan Malekshah, and the cultivated flowers and spring wildflowers in the garden where Homay, Homayun and their attendants are gathered, are the same as those one sees in the paintings of the School of Shiraz.

One of the most amazing and beautiful images of spring in Persian painting, executed in Behbahan in 1398, is found in a poetic anthology preserved in the Museum of Turkish and Islamic Arts in Istanbul (Fig. 2). The artist’s boldness, refinement and skill in the composition and coloring of this work, with its tree trunks resembling flower stems and executed in red hues on the dark blue background of the sky and the yellow, violet and ocher hills, and its crowd of magpies with masterfully depicted long waggling tails sitting as an umbrella on the treetops, constitute an exceptional work in which every detail attests to the painter’s vivid imagination. Yet, on closer examination, we find many of these details in earlier works of southwestern Iran, including the tree trunks resembling flower stems, as exemplified in the Samak-e ‘Ayyar manuscript preserved in Oxford, which dates back to 1330-1340 and was created in Fars, or the minister Qavam-ed-Din’s Shahnameh preserved in Baltimore, which belongs to 1341. In view of these

two manuscripts’ painting style, one can guess that their illustrators were influenced by the mural paintings of Fars province, whose origins date back to pre-Islamic times. Another examples of the magpies, sitting in an almost similar manner on treetops, occurs in the scene of The Mouse Saving the Cat in a Kalileh va Demneh manuscript painted in 1390, probably in Shiraz, now preserved in the Bibliothéque Nationale in Paris (Fig. 3). The feather-like leaves of the tree on the right hand side in the foreground of the spring scene in the Anthology of Behbahan are again visible in another illustration of the same Kalileh va Demneh manuscript (Belad and Irandokht Reaching the Palace), with the difference that the tree trunk in this scene is gnarled instead of smooth. A striking particularity of the illustrations of this Kalileh va Demneh manuscript is that one half of each image within a frame is accompanied by text, while the rest protrudes considerably into the wide margin of the page. For example, in the scene of Belad and Irandokht Reaching the Palace, the upper part of the palace is depicted above the first two lines of the text, in the top margin. The main part of the painting, after the first two lines, is laid out above fourteen other lines and occupies an area equivalent to that of five lines. The plain flanking of the palace protrudes by one third of the frame’s width into the right hand side margin of the page, and the trees depicted in this area join the right hand side and top margins. In this plain, an almond tree and a peach tree are shown blossoming, in a conventional representation of spring.

Three texts — the Garshasbnameh of Asadi Toosi, the Shahanshahnameh, i.e., the description of Timur’s conquests, and the Bahmannameh of Iranshah — , all dated 799 AH and probably illustrated in Shiraz, are gathered in a single manuscript preserved in the British Museum in London. This manuscript, which contains images of spring, is said to have been among the presents prepared by the population of Shiraz to dissuade Timur from attacking their city.

From the period between the beginning of the 15th century and the time when spring was depicted in the Baysonqori Shahnameh, seven other valuable manuscripts have remained, each of which illustrates the conventions of spring depiction in the painting of this period. These are two literary anthologies, two copies of the Kalileh va Demneh, two copies of the poem Homay va Homayun from the Divan of Khaju-ye Kermani, and a copy of the poem Khosrow va Shirin from Nezami’s Khamseh.

A superb literary anthology compiled in Shiraz for Eskandar-Mirza, the grandson of Timur and governor of Fars in 1410, which is now preserved in the Gulbenkian Foundation in Lisbon, includes an interesting innovation in the representation of a palin in spring: In a two-page scene of Prisoners Brought in Presence of Khosrow, the ground is golden and the sun lapis lazuli. Spring flowers are brilliantly depicted on the golden ground and spring blossoms shine against the lapis lazuli sky (Fig. 4, right hand side panel of the painting).

Another literary anthology from the same period, also probably executed in Shiraz and now preserved in the British Museum in London, thus depicts spring in the scene of Alexander Visiting the Cave-dwelling Saintly Man: the text is laid out obliquely in the broad upper margin and the left half of the page. The dark sky forms a large triangle between the text and the curved upper edge of the hills. The central rock is topped by a fruit tree the twisting branches of which cover the entire triangular area of the sky and its blossoms appear as rain falling on a mountain.

A copy of the Kalileh va Demneh illustrated between 1410 and 1420, which belongs to the library of the Golestan Palace in Tehran, is considered worldwide as the most beautiful page in Iranian painting. The scene of The Cow Shanzabeh in the Meadow, depicted with a golden sky, a turquoise-colored plain speckled with freshly grown bushes, clusters of spring flowers, and a silvery river bordered with grass covered with tiny white and violet flowers, exudes a magical purity. On the right hand side, a reed clump and a tree with light and dark green leaves, both executed in the manner of the 14th century, are bent by the spring breeze toward the center of the image, attracting the viewer’s eye towards the large floral cluster amid the plain, thereof to the beautiful bush at the top left corner at the boundary between the ground and the sky, and next to the large white mallow bunch at the bottom right of the picture, offering it a sweeping sight of the beautiful pleasures of spring (Fig. 5). In the scene of The Old Lion, the Fox and the Donkey, the same golden sky is visible above an ivory-colored plain in which the lion is attacking the donkey. The main subject is framed by a silvery river at the bottom and the blossoming branches of two fruit trees on either side of the picture. Some of the flowers and plants of the previous picture are also present here, masterfully scattered in the empty spaces and indicating the presence of spring (Fig. 6).

In another copy of the Kalileh va Demneh, produced in 1430 and preserved in the Topkapi Saray in Istanbul, the scene of The Lion Tearing the Cow Apart is inspired from the manuscripts in Paris and Tehran and the same conventions for the representation of spring are utilized. The innovation of the artists responsible for this copy lies in his coloring of the sky and rocks: here, the ivory-colored plain ends in turquoise-colored rocks of the same hue as that of the sky, with only a narrow greenish turquoise-colored strip separating them. The painter has used the same bluish turquoise he has used for the sky to show the relief of the plain (Fig. 7).

A beautiful page from a copy of Khaju-ye Kermani’s Divan produced in the first half of the 15th century in an unknown place is preserved in the Musée des Arts Décoratifs in Paris. In this work, in the scene of Homay and Homayun in a Garden, one of the most important conventions of the period’s painting, i.e., the representation of every element at its best, is clearly visible

(Fig. 8).

In the conventions of 15th century Persian painting, spring is considered the most beautiful season. Thus, whenever the painter has to depict an indoor scene, although his efforts are mainly aimed at recreating the interior scene, blossoming trees and flower bunches remind the viewer that the events are occurring in spring. An example of this arrangement is visible in two manuscripts from the first half of this century:

In the scene of Shapur Bringing Farhad to Shirin’s Palace, in a copy of Nezami’s Khamseh produced around 1420 in Tabriz and now preserved in the Freer Art Gallery in Washington, through the open window behind Shirin, located on the vertical axis of the picture, a blossoming tree is seen standing in the green grass of the garden. From each of the latticed windows on the right and left sides of the palace hall, a woman is looking inside and behind her a blossoming tree is visible.

In a scene of Khaju-ye Kermani’s Homay va Homayun created in the painting workshops of Baysonqor’s library in Herat in 1427 and now preserved in the Staatsbibliothek in Vienna, spring is depicted outside the windows of the palace hall: in the scene of Homay Contemplating Princess Homayun’s Portrait Hanging on a Wall, three trees are visible outside three of the hall’s windows. One of the trees has white blossoms, another pink ones, and the third has green leaves and branches of a rosebush beside it again evoke spring.

At the end of the 14th century, a current convention in Iranian painting is the representation of every element of a picture at its best: the sky is either golden or lapis lazuli, with a golden moon and stars, this being considered ideally beautiful. The ground is always depicted in daylight and in springtime, allowing flowers and plants to display their full beauty. The period in which almond, peach and other fruit trees are blossoming is short, but beautiful, so this beauty must be recorded. Fruit trees better display the beauty of their trunks and branches, and white and pink blossoms are particularly resplendent on golden and lapis lazuli backgrounds. These conventions are gradually completed and established in the works of Persian painters by the third decade of the 15th century, continuing until the mid-16th century, when a new trend emerges in book illustration. This new trend can perhaps be termed a “display of skill”. The compositions become elaborate and crowded, the number of characters depicted increases, the coloring acquires greater diversity and brightness, the painter begins depicting spring, summer and autumn elements together, and skillful execution of details becomes more important than the visual unity of the work. In other words, the illustration of Persian manuscripts begins to decline.•

1 In Basil Gray’s Persian Painting, one reads: “[During Timur’s campaigns] Many craftsmen were transplanted hither [to Samarqand] from the captured cities of Persia, including Shiraz and Baghdad in the same year 1393.” (p. 65) “For most of the rest of his [Shahrokh’s] life he lived at Herat when not campaigning, another centre where he had been governor since 1397, and to which he may have led back some of the artists and craftsmen removed to Samarqand by Timur.” (p. 80) “The reputed date of the foundation of Baysongor’s library is 1420, when he was sent as commander of a force to recover Tabriz from the Turkmans, and returned bringing with him the master Ja’far, a pupil, either direct or at one remove, of the inventor of nasta’liq writing, who became the head of the most famous scriptorium of the day.” (pp. 83 & 84)

In all probability, the master Ja’far summoned skilled artists from Tabriz to join him in Herat. Hence, the Timurid school of painting is an amalgam of the achievements of the late 14th and early 15th century schools of Baghdad, Shiraz and Tabriz.

The Migration of Persian Artists to India

The Migration of Persian Artists to India in the Safavid Period
Kefayat Koosha

Farairan Art Quarterly.No 8. Summer 2001

Shah ‘Abbas I, in a letter to the imprisoned Seal Keeper, Jalal-ed-Din Amir-Beik, unambiguously mentions a significant event of Safavid times, namely the Persians’ efforts at migrating to India.1 Although this course of events is also widely reflected in his contemporaries’ notes, and has been studied by many researchers, our knowledge in this regard is still scarce. At first glance, it may appear that the lack of direct evidence will prevent any significant headway to be made in this concern. Yet, only a small part of the texts and sources related to this subject have been investigated so far, and many relevant historic clues are yet unknown. Therefore, it appears that a wide-ranging systematic search in the texts and sources of this period can be fruitful. Hence, relying on existing documents, the present research attempts to examine the massive migration of Safavid artists to India, which reached its peak during the long reign of Shah Tahmasb, an era of crises that culminated in harsh social changes.

Generally speaking, no complete account of Shah Tahmasb’s personality and life is available, and we have to make do with the terse, incomplete and occasionally contradictory descriptions given by existing sources in order to reveal the face of an otherwise little known monarch. Sources record that he was almost eleven years old upon his accession to the throne in 930 AH / AD 1523.2 Almost all the sources of the time also unanimously record that, in his young age, the king was greatly attracted to the arts and artists, to the extent that he not only took painting and calligraphy lessons, but also promoted these arts among his courtiers. He kept to this policy in later years3.

As some sources indicate, the offspring of prominent families were educated at the court. In fact, they were being trained as future office-holders. Sharaf-Khan, who had been educated at the court, writes that the king had his generals’ and courtiers’ children brought to court and given a comprehensive education equal to that reserved for princes. Sharaf-Khan’s explanations show that, among the different curricular subjects, the king considered necessary for himself, the princes and his courtiers to take painting courses: “… As they reached the age of growth and discrimination, he taught them the martial arts, shooting with the bow, playing polo, galloping on horseback, and the rules of warfare and humanity, and he told them to also devote some of their time to painting, by which one acquires a straight taste.”4 At the time, art workshops affiliated to the court also existed in which manuscripts were illustrated for the king. These workshops undoubtedly constituted the country’s main center of cultural activity, as well as its highest center of art education, where young artists were trained by professors attached to the court on a permanent basis, who were often close confidants of the Shah. On the evidence of different sources, we know that the Shah himself also took courses with these professors. The Royal Library at Tabriz, together with its painting workshops, was directed by Kamal-ed-Din Behzad until 942 AH. Such great painters as Soltan-Mohammad, Aqa-Mirak, Mir-Mosavver, Doost-e Divaneh, and others were employed at the Royal Library. Budaq and Eskandar-Beik-e Torkaman say that Shah Tahmasb learned painting with Soltan-Mohammad, while Mostafa ‘Ali believes that the Shah’s teacher was Khajeh ‘Abd-ol-‘Aziz Esfahani.5Budaq, Rumloo, Qazi Ahmad and Eskandar-Beik also speak of the Shah’s predilection for painting and calligraphy, noting that he “was keenly fond of penmanship and artistry”6 all along his childhood and adolescence. Budaq, Rumloo and Eskandar-Beik say that it was in this frame of mind that he gathered such eminent painters as Soltan-Mohammad, Behzad, Mirak-e Esfahani, Mir-Mosavver, and Doost-e Divaneh at his court. They continue: “The king devoted them full attention and kindness.” They also quote a diptych by Booq-ol-‘Eshq, which reflects the unrestrained progress of this period’s painters.7

Eskandar-Beik has spoken in similar words about the poets, 8 and it has also been said that, besides painting, the Shah also had some talents in calligraphy, poetry, and carpet design.9 However, the policy pursued in those years10 was soon abandoned. The Shah and his court changed their previous attitudes and stopped supporting and funding the artists. The events that occurred in the subsequent years raise innumerable questions for which no clear answers exist for the time being. Budaq and Qazi Ahmad speak of the Shah’s “displeasure” with the artists and write that he became disenchanted with the artists and dismissed all of them except (the scribe) Doost-Mohammad Gavashani.11 In the author’s opinion, understanding the motives and wherefore of this disenchantment calls for a full knowledge of all the social, cultural, political and economical problems of Shah Tahmasb’s time, and justifying them encompasses a wide spectrum of causes and factors left behind in history. Extreme prudence is imperative in this examination, because the court’s change of heart was the outcome of events that took place in this vital period of Persian history. In fact, that crisis, which reflected the government’s creeds, mirrored the political and social conditions of the time, which eventually put an end to the golden era of Persian painting.

The discontinuation of Shah Tahmasb’s support of the artists is often attributed to religious grounds. Many sources relate the Shah’s dreams and visions concerning his forgoing wine and other prohibited things, and his repetitive amends in 939-41 and 963.12 In this concern, in Shah Tahmasb’s biography (probably an autobiography), we come across detailed reports on his amends.13 Although these texts appear so unequivocal as to leave no possibility of a doubt, the facts are a bit more complicated than they seem. In two unique sources of this period, one is confronted with a different narrative of the matter, which appears worthwhile of being studied in terms of the covert realities of Safavid times.

Budaq-e Monshi and Mahmood ebn-e Khandmir both relate how, while Bahram-Mirza was besieged by ‘Obaidollah-Khan within the ramparts of Herat, at the time of Shah Tahmasb’s departure towards Khorasan, several of the Shah’s servants attempted to assassinate him by poisoning his wine, but fled when their plans failed.14 Further on, after lengthy digressions, Budaq states that, after that event, the Shah “began thinking about repentance, and that this included,” included “abstinence from drinking wine and spirits, committing adultery and sodomy, and other prohibited matters.”15 And that contemporary religious figures were not without influencing the Shah’s decision to make amends.16

Shah Tahmasb is said to have been so resolute in his atonement as to relinquish the very thought of the pleasures of wine and sex. The story of the Shah’s infatuation with Mirza-Mohammad ebn-e Khajeh Qebahat (the Shah’s young cup-bearer) appears in all the sources of the time. These facts are recorded in texts in which matters are usually expressed in conservative terms. A miniature painting depicting this relationship exists in Bahram-Mirza’s Moraqqa‘ (Album), preserved at the Topkapi Saray Library in Turkey, in which the Shah’s youthful “balm of the heart and soul”17 is offering him a cup of wine. Examining these relationships is a worthwhile occupation, because it provides a complete image of the social conditions prevailing in Safavid times. This story, and the miniature, probably date prior to 939 and the Shah’s repentance, when he was 19 or 20 years old. The same is true about a story narrated by Mahmood ebn-e Hedayat Afushte’i Natanzi about Morad-Khan, the Shah’s comely chamberlain. In his description of this event, which took place after the Shah’s repentances, and which he writes to highlight the Shah’s resolution in his atonement, Afushte’i says that, while admiring Morad-Khan’s graceful saunter in performing his duties, “… he felt a substance of pleasure building within him, and immediately repented and, by way of atonement, submitted the sum of twelve Tomans to the treasurers.” He goes on to say that, after this event, the Shah ordered his servants to “hereafter wear kelijehs sewn down to the knee during service.”18 The Shah’s atonement soon took on vaster dimensions and emulating him became a guarantee of survival throughout the country; indeed, violators from every rank and occupation were put to death.19 A king’s atonement may be nothing new. We know that Babur made similar amends in 933 AH (AD 1526),20 but the aim of the present research is to examine the eventual effects of Shah Tahmasb’s atonement on Safavid art. Numerous theories have been put forth in this regard. Some art connoisseurs try to explain the Shah’s interrupted patronage of artists by magnifying his religious zealotry,21 but, as we shall see, contrary evidence exists as well, because the Shah’s ban was supposed to touch only the painters and musicians, whereas Budaq affirms that such was the Shah’s displeasure with artists that he even discharged his scribes.22

Other sources are silent about the causes of this displeasure, but, besides the Shah’s repentance and his dislike of artists, other reasons come to the fore in this concern. In his famous travel account, written in the fifty-first year of Shah Tahmasb’s reign, Vincento d’Allessandri, the Venetian ambassador at his court, writes, after describing his appearance: “… What is most striking in him is his melancholy temper, for which there are many signs, the most important being that he has not set foot outside his palace for eleven years. In the meantime, he has neither gone hunting nor amused himself with anything else.”23 And Qazi Ahmad writes: “Such were that unique king’s acumen and wisdom that he adopted the Dar-os-Saltaneh of Qazvin as his residence for twenty years and

never felt the need to travel or migrate elsewhere.”24

Rumloo also speaks of the Shah’s strange habits. He writes that the Shah “considered most substances impure and had the remains of his food thrown in water or burnt to ashes, and he did not eat during ceremonies.”25 He also narrates that it took the Shah a whole day to clip his nails and that he spent the next from dawn to dusk in his bath, and Qazi Ahmad notes that “That divine king’s obsession with cleanliness went beyond human endurance.”26

This anti-social behavior is not easy to analyze, but one may ask whether the Shah’s contradictory dealings with Homayun, his harsh treatment of his brothers and sons, and his curtailment of patronage of artists, were not other symptoms of his cold, melancholy nature.

The Shah had another negative trait; he was extremely rapacious and fond of accumulating riches. Many sources speak of his avarice and his constant scheming to invent new revenues, which were gradually amassed in his treasury. Chardin gives an interesting account of the treasury of the Safavid kings: “The Shah’s treasury is a truly bottomless pit, because everything disappears in it and only a little comes out of it.”27 D’Alessandri estimates Shah Tahmasb’s yearly income at three million gold coins.28 Concerning the expenses paid by the Shah, he says: “The country’s expenses, which are in fact paid by the treasury, are insignificant, because the Shah is only bound to pay the wages of five thousand soldiers known as Qurchis… But Shah Tahmasb does not pay these Qurchis in cash, but rather supplies them, as down payments, with uniforms and horses which he sells them at whatever price he wishes.”29 More evidence is available in this concern. Rumloo unequivocally states that, in the last years of his reign, the Shah had left his troops and Qurchis unpaid for fourteen years.30 Elsewhere he writes: “As His Majesty delayed sending a law enforcement officer, incessant feuds broke out among the population of Azarbaijan, and [yet] he was so popular with the army that, although he had paid them no wages for fourteen years, no one complained and all went on serving in earnest…”31 Imagining how these Qurchis met their expenses during these years is most interesting, because Shah Tahmasb, whose avarice was constantly growing, rewarded his troops with authorizations of pillage, etc.32

Sharaf-Khan (the supreme commander of the Kurds), whom Shah Esma‘il II had charged with the mission of preparing a list of Shah Tahmasb’s riches, reveals further facts: “… Shah Tahmasb … was extremely avid of amassing wealth in his treasury; so much so that no king of Persia or Turan after the affair of Changiz-Khan, nay, since the advent of Islam, [had] ever so tenaciously devoted efforts at bringing together goods, fabrics, gold vessels and silver utensils…”33

Qazi Ahmad writes, in his Kholasat-ot-Tavarikh: “He amassed more gold, land, population and furnishings than anyone could imagine. His cash money, gems, gold and silver exceeded a thousand [times] thousand Tomans, and removing seventy thousand camel-loads of his household furnishings [would have] left the lot almost undiminished.”34

Reza-Qoli-Khan Hedayat gives a similar description in his Rowzat-os-Safa-ye Nasseri.35 Budaq and Rumloo also say that the Shah handled all financial affairs personally, and that none had the right to interfere in pecuniary matters without his authorization.36 D’Allessandri gives us more interesting information. He says: “… This king sells jewels and carries other business as well, and he enters into bargaining as any other lowly, cunning merchant…” He continues: “[Shah Tahmasb] … did myriad things unbefitting ordinary people, let alone a king…”37 D’Allessandri explains that the Shah was a shrewd trader of velvet, silk and woolen fabrics from Aleppo, Khorasan and the Orient, and that he had garments of these sewn and “… sold at ten times their price to his troops…”38 Most importantly, d’Allessandri unveils another of Shah Tahmasb’s visages: that of a usurer. He says that “[those, rendering services] are granted loans in proportion to their services. Some receive twenty thousand, others twenty-five thousand, and a few a thousand escudos, for a period of ten years for some, and of twenty for others, and every year he takes off his interest for his own use. These royal attendants then give these sums in loan to important courtiers looking forward to the king bestowing titles and offices upon them, at interest rates varying between sixty and eighty percent, and in exchange of solid estate guarantees … and no delay is allowed in the repayment of the interests…”39

Other sources speak extensively about the other aspects of the Safavid kings’ unlimited prerogatives, which made them the total masters of their subjects’ lives and belongings. The Shah was the absolute proprietor of the country and of all its lands and resources.40 Often his displeasure signified people being murdered and all their movable and immovable properties seized. Chardin says about the absolute power of Safavid kings: “… Nothing offers protection against the insane whims of these Shahs; be it probity, merit, sincerity, or past services… As soon as they playfully make an expressive gesture, uttered in a few words or as a significant glance, on the job individuals holding important positions and most valuable creatures are immediately discharged and deprived of all their belongings, and all this takes place in the absence of any kind of trial and without concern about proving the alleged guilt.”41

As can be seen in most sources of Shah Tahmasb’s time, no one was safe from the sharp edge of malicious accusations.42 Depending on his mental and physical disposition, his edicts were often unpredictable, as he occasionally pardoned some accused persons.43 An example in case was the scribe Budaq: “… under the late king, while innocent and for no reason at all, I time and again suffered acrimony and torture, and repeatedly paid nearly seven hundred Tomans…”44

Obviously, no one’s life or belongings were safe in such conditions. On one hand the harsh repression jeopardized social peace of mind, and on the other jealousies, hatreds, and intrigues within the court undermined security particularly among office holders.45 Naturally enough, the conditions necessary for the development of culture and arts did not exist.

In this concern, we quote Edward Browne, who asked Mohammad Qazvini why no great poets existed in Safavid times. Qazvini’s answer was: “… Safavid monarchs … devoted the better part of their efforts to disseminating the Shi‘ite creed … however, they not only manifested no enthusiasm for the development of literature, poetry, mysticism, etc., which they referred to as Kamaliyat—as opposed to Shar‘iyat—but even resorted to all sorts of devices to harass and ridicule their representatives, because these representatives were often not established in religious laws and ceremonials in general.”46

These factors—the court’s cessation of its patronage of artists and its unwillingness to invest in the development of arts—together with the absence of security in a society on the verge of collapse in which everything was permanently in danger, led to the massive emigration of artists; a phenomenon known today as ‘brain drain’, which results from unfavorable living and social conditions.

Nevertheless, Safavid artists had the unique chance that a Dar-ol-Aman47 existed for them in a faraway land. Therefore, faced with the dire conditions of their homeland, they aptly took the opportunity to set out towards India, where they could find strong economic backing. It has been said that, while these migrants only sought a mere daily bread, they obtained the patronage of wise promoters of arts who put an end to their distress and gave them an opportunity to acquire world-wide fame. “… and anyone who reaches India, even if he had embarked only to earn a mere daily bread and wanted no more than that, within the first week comes to support a numerous family and within a short time and without the slightest effort mingles with the nobility and gives undreamed-of sums to beggars…”48 As records indicate, these migrations begin at the very establishment of the Safavid and Gurkani dynasties, i.e., during the reign of Shah Esma‘il I, the contemporary of Babur, and reach their peak at the time of Homayun and Akbar, the contemporaries of Shah Tahmasb. Thus, Homayun, who had become acquainted with the painters of the School of Shiraz during his exile in Persia, deployed every effort at attracting them to his court, to the extent that the Gurkani court’s patronage of Persian artists and poets gave rise to massive migrations in the wake of which new artistic and literary schools were born. Homayun’s meeting with Khajeh ‘Abd-os-Samad Shirazi, a young painter of the School of Tabriz, is described in Akbarnameh.49 Undoubtedly, the social situation in Persia and the Shah’s change of heart towards artists did not remain hidden from Homayun’s keen eyes. Therefore, during his meetings in Tabriz with different artists, he called upon them to join his future court, promising them all sorts of rewards, which he did his best to fulfill. It has been said that, unlike Shah Tahmasb, he was very generous. Writing about Homayun’s generosity, Rumloo says that his recompenses were never less than a lak, and Badvani says that “fearing his recompense, representatives never spoke the name of gold in his presence, for he was not as motivated as his father by keeping a full treasury.” Sadeqi-Beik describes him as a king “infinitely charitable, forgiving, liberal and tasteful,” and compares him with Soltan Hossein- Mirza, and Khandmir writes that every day “the treasury keepers brought in several pure gold badrehs in His Exalted Presence so that anyone He wished to remunerate with pieces and garments of gold could receive these without delay.”50 Also concerning Homayun’s attachment to arts and artists, one reads in Indian sources that, all along his perpetual feuds with various rivals, particularly Prince Kamran, he never neglected his artists and always gave priority to conversing with them.51

He manifested his affection for his artists by bestowing the title of Nader-ol-Molk to Mir-Seyyed-‘Ali and that of Shirin-Qalam to ‘Abd-os-Samad. To better understand the esteem in which these Persian artists were held, one must mention Homayun’s letter to the ruler of Kashghar, in which he introduces his artists and which he accompanies by samples of their works. Bayazid says that the text of this letter had been communicated to him by ‘Abd-os-Samad, in Lahore, in 999 AH,

that is in the thirty-sixth year of Akbar Shah’s reign.52

As can be gathered from what Homayun and Jahangir have said, Persian artists soon gained precedence over many courtiers in their meetings with the emperor. In fact, they were their patrons’ teachers and always served them as trustworthy companions.53 They were also among Homayun’s retinue during his conquest of India, and their names appear, in Akbarnameh as well as in Homayun’s and Akbar’s biographies, as escorting their royal patrons during this important historic event.54

Homayun’s successor, Akbar, surpassed his father in fostering the arts, and it was during his reign that Persian immigrants began pouring into the Gurkani court. Soon, the courtiers began emulating their emperor’s patronage of arts. Notable among them was Bayram-Khan, who “enriched a hundred-fold all those to whom he had so promised in Persia and none remained without a share of his bounteousness.”55

It is also said that Bayram-Khan’s son, Khan-e Khanan ‘Abd-or-Rahim, whom ‘Abd-ol-Baqi Nahavandi describes as having made another Persia out of India, caused many Persian artists and poets to emigrate to India in search of fame and fortune. “This chieftain has made it his duty to ascertain that whoever from the province or other countries of the Inhabited Quarter takes refuge at his court soon achieves esteem and fame…”56 It has been said about Mahabat-Khan (Zamaneh-Beig), who translated into Persian the realities of life during the reign of Babur, that “his generosity and goodwill are cited in example among the Indians…”57 It has also been said about him that he “loved conversing with Persians. He said that they were the epitome of creation.”58 Mention must also be made of Navvab Zafar-Khan (Mirza Ahsanollah)’s keen interest in arts, “the like of him was never found after ‘Abd-or-Rahim Khan-e Khanan in appreciating the arts and artists and supporting literary and lofty minds, and the arrival of most Persian poets to India was due to his auspicious inclination.”59

Badvani speaks of 166 poets named Akbar who reached fame in India. Most of these poets were Persian immigrants and 59 of them are said to have found their way into Akbar’s court.60 Shafiq Owrangabadi, in his Tazkere-ye Sham-e Ghariban, written in 1197 AH, gives a list of Persian poets who immigrated to India in different periods, and Ahmad Golchin-e Ma‘ani refers to one such classified list of 745 Persian poets who migrated to India during the Gurkani reign.61 It is therefore not without reason that, in 990 AH (AD 1582), the Persian language was proclaimed the official language of the Indian government by Akbar’s order.62

Akbar’s first Persian Malek-osh-Sho‘ara (Head Poet) was Ghazzali Mashhadi, and his successor at this position was Fayzi. But the main consequence of the migration of Persian poets to his court was the emergence of a literary style known as ‘Indian’, which constitutes a branch of Persian literature. It was also at the same time that, with Akbar’s support, more than a hundred Indian painters began learning Persian painting under the supervision of Persian painters. The upshot of this current was the birth of the “Indo-Persian” school of art. Percy Brown refers to this school as a branch of Safavid painting.63 Notable among the masterpieces produced in this period was an illustrated manuscript of the Hamzehnameh.64 On the evidence of various sources, we are aware of the existence of three Persian painters at Homayun’s court. The first was Doost-e Divaneh, or Doost-e Mosavver, who had joined Kamran-Mirza’s court long before the two other set foot in India,65 and Mir-Seyyed-‘Ali and Khajeh ‘Abd-os-Samad, who arrived in Kabul, upon Homayun’s invitation, in 956 AH (AD 1549). Many art experts believe that the history of Gurkani painting actually began with the arrival of these three artists.66 However, these theories have undergone radical change in recent years, and other art experts now believe that the pioneering role of Doost-e Divaneh/Doost-e Mosavver along this path must not be neglected.67 While trying to exert utmost caution in depicting the portraits of painters involved in the formation of the “Indo-Persian” school, the author feels compelled to give credit to the assumption that other, lesser known, painters probably also contributed to this movement, but that their names and dates of arrival to the Gurkani court are unknown for want of sources. Thus, while Bayazid asserts that Doost-e Divaneh/Doost-e Mosavver was the greatest painter of the time in Kabul,68 one should bear in mind that in those days no lists similar to those written about poets were compiled for painters, and that it was only under Akbar, upon his initiative and thanks to Ab-ol-Fazl’s efforts, that such lists were first prepared, making a few such outstanding painters known to us.69 Yet, even in these writings, these artists are depicted on a background of regal events and their individual character is seldom brought in focus.70 These documents can and must be examined more thoroughly. Many obscure points still exist that need to be clarified by finding new documents. Here, in an attempt to reach a more rational conclusion, we put together some details that sources have made available to _us. In A’in-e Akbari, we are faced with the narrative of the painter Mani’s emigration to India.71 Budaq, Qazi Ahmad, Sadeqi-Beik and Mostafa ‘Ali speak of Khajeh ‘Abd-ol-‘Aziz and ‘Ali-Asghar Kashi being lured to “set out towards India” by Mohammad ebn-e Khajeh Qebahat, the Shah’s favorite cup-bearer,72 and soon arrested along their way, returned home and punished.73 Budaq also speaks of Soltan Mohammad’s son, who “did not let his father’s efforts go to waste, migrating to India after his death and making great progress there.”74 He also reports that Mir-Mosavver followed Mir-Seyyed-‘Ali on his way to India.75 Scholars also record the presence of the painter Mirak and the calligrapher Mir-Doost at Babur’s court.76 Relying on this mass of evidence, one can visualize a stream of artists and poets, whom we shall call the ‘unknown’, migrating to India for various reasons. Identifying these figures and altering the conventional views of the past depend on discovering new sources.

However, artists, artisans and poets were not the only ones to join the Gurkani court. Mystic scholars, philosophers and physicians77 also emigrated en masse. Molla ‘Abd-on-Nabi Fakhr-oz-Zamani thus writes about his emigration to India: “… But when the author of these lines reached the age of nineteen, setting out on a pilgrimage to the shrine of Emam Reza (PBUH)… he came to Mashhad… where he stayed for almost a month. While staying at the shrine, day after day, anywhere he went, he heard merchants and passers-by giving lavish descriptions of the safe haven that was India. Yielding to his eagerness to see that land, he resolved to travel there. Leaving behind stage after stage, he traveled by way of Kandahar to eventually reach Lahore, quite ill and weakened. He stayed four months in that city before the fatigue of the road dissipated. He then busied himself with exploring Lahore. What a land it appeared to his humble self! One of inexpensive and abundant goods. Another quality of India was that anyone could live there in any way he wished, without anyone having the right to restrain him from doing so. I told myself, ‘This is where you

should live, not in the Dar-os-Saltaneh of Qazvin.’”78

Thus, the flow of emigrations continues. The author of Tazkere-ye Maykhaneh says elsewhere: “… It is well known throughout the world that whoever has had the opportunity of traveling across India and benefiting from this bounteous country, upon returning to Persia, if he does not die on the way between, he indeed dies wishing he were there.”79

Amin Ahmad Razi has thus described India: “… The wealth of good things that exist in this land is unequaled in any other country. ‘Abdollah ebn-e Salam once said that joy was created in ten parts, nine of which were given to India, and the remaining part to the rest of the world. One good thing in India is that travelers need not carry provisions, because food, fodder, and a place to rest are available at every stopover and the chain of arrivals and departures is never broken… Another is that, whatever kind of individual one may be, one is neither hindered nor compelled. [The means of] satisfying personal desires such as those available to frivolous and

young people in India exist in no [other] country…”80

Taleb Amoli was Jahangir’s Malek-osh-Sho‘ara, and such painters as Farrokh-Beig and Aqa-Reza, who had joined Akbar’s court during Jahangir’s life as heir to the throne, were the most illustrious painters of his time. These two artists in fact led the second wave of emigrations and the Persian elements of the “Indo-Persian” school were strengthened anew with their arrival in India.81 In that period, when the pioneer painters had disappeared, the “Indo-Persian” school was headed by Farrokh-Beig. His name is recorded as the supreme painter in Tuzuk-e Jahangiri, where it is also said that he was awarded the sum of two thousand Rupees.82

Other Persian painters certainly existed at the time whose names do not appear in the sources of Jahangir’s time, which were vastly influenced by Tuzuk-e Jahangiri. And Jahangir himself only mentions four of his famous painters: Farrokh-Beig, Ab-ol-Hasan, Mansoor, and Beshandas. As we see, even a renowned painter such as Dowlat is omitted from the king’s journal, while ‘Abd-os-Samad’s son, Sharif, plays a large role in it, not as a painter but as commander in chief of Jahangir’s army.

The famous painters of this period, Ab-ol-Hasan, Mansoor, and Dowlat, may be considered to constitute the third wave of Persian artists at the Gurkani court. However, information concerning their past lives is scarce, and this is not surprising, for their lives actually

began, as it were, upon their joining the Gurkani court!

Unfortunately, what we know at the present time is hardly sufficient to draw up a general history on the matter. The scope of our investigations in this domain is narrow, and this is not our fault; reliable sources in this concern are quite insufficient, but Jahangir is more perceptive about some artists. He writes about Ab-ol-Hasan: “Ever since his childhood he has always been careful in his education before reaching the present standing…”83 One should bear in mind that Jahangir’s inclinations immensely influenced the painters of this period. Hence, following the king’s changing interests, different tendencies—portrait painting, representation of courtly scenes, painting from nature, floral and animal illustration, etc.—emerged among these painters. A keen lover and supporter of the arts, beauty and nature, Jahangir was also a great collector and an authoritative critic. He himself said that he was able to discern the brush strokes of each of his painters in works created in common. Yet, unlike under Akbar, seldom do we come across such collective works in this period, and this highlights another essential point: that Jahangir’s inclinations created opportunities for the painters’ individualities to manifest themselves and their personal aptitudes and singularities to be revealed. This period was also characterized by the impact of Western painting and the appearance of moraqqa‘s (albums), which replaced the illustrated books produced during Akbar’s reign.

The flood of migrations to India continued unabated under Shah Jahan. It was in the early years of this period that Sa’eb Tabrizi visited India, and stayed there for six years.85 Sa’eb’s famous diptych well expresses the Persians’ attachment to India:

Hamcho ‘azm-e safar-e Hend ke dar har del hast,

Raqs-e sowda-ye to dar heech sari nist ke nist.

Just as the wish to travel to India, for which everyone yearns,

There is no head in which the thought of you is not dancing.

In this period Kalim Kashani was the court’s Malek-osh-Sho‘ara for a while. The famous Persian painters of this period included Mir-Hashem, Mohammad-Nader and Mohammad-Morad Samarqandi. Although the famous Safavid painter Mohammad Zaman is said to have joined Shah Jahan’s court86 in this period, no sufficient evidence corroborates this assertion. Portrait painting and album making continued to flourish under Shah Jahan, but it was during his reign that the first steps towards the decentralization of painting were taken. Thus, painting breaks free from the monopoly of the royal court and, with painters joining local courts, the way is paved for painting to become localized under Owrang-Zib. In this period, the Persian elements fade away and the ‘Indo-Persian’ school begins withering. Also, with the discontinuation of the Gurkani kings’ patronage of arts and artists, the flow of migrations to India dwindles, causing the Persian elements of this school to further decline under Owrang-Zib. Meanwhile, with the downfall of the Safavid dynasty, even members of the royal family emigrate to India.87

In conclusion, it is appropriate to quote a remark by Percy Brown, which throws a glance on both sides of the coin: “The artists were fortunate in that their patrons had an insatiable desire for their work, while on their part Mughals were fortunate in finding such talent ready and awaiting their orders.”88

From this viewpoint, the Gurkani kings’s need for the specialties and capabilities of Persian migrants equaled the Persian migrants’ need for their bounteous patronage. Shah ‘Abbas I is said to have once asked Jahangir’s Persian-born emissaries why the Mughals did not send Indians as diplomats to Persia, and heard the following answer: “If there were men in India no one would give us bread. In India the are no [capable] men.”89•

1-His Majesty’s orders were for the Amir-Beik to be aware that a crowd of this country’s people had attempted to cross the sea, leaving Jeddah towards India…” From Shah Tahmasb’s letter to the Seal Keeper Amir Beik. See Nava’i, ‘Abd-ol-Hossein, Shah Tahmasb-e Safavi, Majmu‘e-ye Asnad va Mokatebat-e Tarikhi hamrah ba Yaddasht-ha-ye Tafsili, Tehran, Iranian Cultural Foundation Publications, Spring 1350/1971, p. 7; Shah Tahmasb raises other points in this letter to which we shall return.

2-Budaq records Shah Tahmasb’s birth date as 26 Zihajjeh, 919 AH and that of his accession to the throne as 20 Rajab, 930 AH, at the age of eleven. Monshi Budaq Qazvini, Javaher-ol-Akhbar, photographic copy at the central library of Tehran University, no. 3514-17, folio 298; Eskandar-Beik also records that Tahmasb was eleven years old upon his accession, the date of which he gives as Monday 19 Rajab, 930 AH. Eskandar-Beik-e Torkaman, Tarikh-e ‘Alam-ara-ye ‘Abbasi, compiled by Iraj Afshar, vol. 1, 2nd printing, Tehran, Amir Kabir, 1350/1971, p. 45; Rumloo records Tahmasb’s accession date as Monday 19 Rajab, 930 AH and his age at the time as ten years, six months and twenty days. Hassan-Beig Rumloo, Ahsan-ot-Tavarikh, emended by Charles Namensiden, Calcutta, 1931, p. 184; Qazi Ahmad records Tahmasb’s age on the day of his accession as ten years, six months and twenty-four days. Qazi Ahmad Monshi Qomi, Kholasat-ot-Tavarikh, emended by Ehsan Eshraqi, Tehran University Publications, 1359/1980, p. 155.

3-See note 10.

4-Sharaf-Khan ebn-e Shams-ed-Din Badlisi, Sharafnameh, compiled by Vladimir, known as Veliaminov Zernov, vol. 1, St. Petersburg, 1860 (1276), pp. 449-50.

5-Budaq, op. cit., folio 114; Eskandar-Beik, op. cit., p. 174; Mostafa ‘Ali Afandi, Manaqeb-e Honarvaran, translated by Dr. Towfiq H. Sobhani, Tehran, Sorush, 1369/1990, pp. 105 & 106, but, on folio 114, Budaq writes that His Majesty (Navvab-e Homayun) named ‘Abd-ol-‘Aziz as his pupil, and Qazi Ahmad’s record comes from this source. Qazi Ahmad, Golestan-e Honar, emended by Ahmad Soheili Khonsari, Tehran, 1352/1973, p. 140. Qazi Ahmad also makes allusions to the Shah’s classmates. In his biography of Mowlana Nazari Qomi, he thus writes about his acquaintance with the Shah: “He practiced painting with His

Majesty.”

6-Budaq, op. cit., folios 114, 298 & 299; Rumloo, op. cit., p. 488; Qazi Ahmad,

Golestan-e Honar, p. 137; Eskandar-Beik, op. cit., p. 174, who writes: “His Majesty lavished utter kindness upon this class.”

7-Ibid., and also Qazi Ahmad, op. cit., p. 138, who gives this poet’s name as Manoof Damaghani.

Bi-takallof khosh taraqqi karde-and,

Kateb o naqqash o Qazvini o khar.

Unrestrained, they have well progressed,

The scribe, the painter and the ass.

In this diptych, the term Qazvini refers to the Shah’s vakil, and the poet has also made an allusion to the king’s childish liking for donkey-riding.

8-Eskandar-Beik, op. cit., p. 178, who writes: “… In the early days of His blessed rule, His Supreme Majesty devoted total attention to the welfare of this class. For a while Mirza-Ashraf Jahan and Mowlana Hairati were among the intimate members of His most holy entourage.” Concerning the relations of Mowlana Hairati and Shah Tahmasb, see note 19.

9-Azarpad, Hasan & Heshmati Razavi, Fazlollah, Farshname-ye Iran, Tehran, Cultural Studies and Research Center (Pajuheshgah), 1372/1993, p. 15, but these researchers cite no source for their assertions.

10-For an in-depth study of Shah Tahmasb’s love for painting, calligraphy and poetry, see: Budaq, op. cit., folios 114, 99 & 298; Taqi-ed-Din Owhadi, ‘Arafat-ol-‘Asheqin, photographic copy at Malek Library, no. 5324, folios 331-2; Sharaf-Khan, op. cit., vol. 1, pp. 449-50; Rumloo, op. cit., p. 488; Eskandar-Beik, op. cit., pp. 174 & 178; Sadeqi-Beik Afshar, Majma‘-ol-Khavas, translated into Persian by ‘Abd-or-Rasul Khayyampoor, Tabriz, Iranian History and Culture Institute Publications, 1327/1948, pp. 8-9; Lotf-‘Ali-Beig ebn-e Aq-Khan Bigdeli Shamloo, known under the pen-name of Azar, Ateshkade-ye Azar, emended and annotated by Hasan Sadat Nasseri, vol. 1, Tehran, Amir Kabir, 1336/1957, p. 74; Qazi Ahmad, Golestan-e Honar, pp. 137-140, & Kholasat-to-Tavarikh, pp. 226-7; Fakhri Heravi, Tazkere-ye Rowzat-os-Salatin, emended by ‘Abd-or-Rasul Khayyampoor, Tabriz, Iranian History and Culture Institute Publications, 1345/1966, pp. 70-71; Tarbiat, Mohammad-‘Ali, Daneshmand-e Azarbaijan, 1st printing, Tehran, National

Consultative Assembly, 1314/1935, p. 284, and other sources.

11-Budaq, op. cit., folios 113-114, who writes: “… In the end when the king became displeased with this lot…”; Qazi Ahmad, Golestan-e Honar, pp. 88 & 99; Eskandar-Beik has also written in this concern, op. cit., pp. 174 & 178.

12-Tazkere-ye Shah Tahmasb, attributed to Shah Tahmasb, with preface and index by Amrollah Safari, 2nd printing, Tehran, 1363/1984, pp. 29-30; Rumloo, op. cit., p. 246; Budaq, op. cit., folios 307-8; Qazi Ahmad, Golestan-e Honar, pp. 112-114 and Kholasat-ot-Tavarikh, pp. 597-599, 225 & 386; Bigdeli Shamloo, op. cit., vol. 1, p. 74; ‘Abdi Beigi Shirazi, Taklamat-ol-Akhbar, with preface, emended and annotated by Dr. ‘Abd-ol-Hossein Nava’i, Tehran, 1369/1990, pp. 76-77; Sharaf-Khan, Sharafnameh, photographic copy at the central library of Tehran University, no. 3888, folio 216; Qazizadeh Molla Ahmad Tatavi, Tarikh-e Alfi, manuscript at the library of Tehran University’s Faculty of Theology, no. 5/2B, folio 1017; Mahmood ebn-e Hedayatollah Afushte’i Natanzi, Neqavat-ol-Asar fi Zekr-ol-Akhiar, compiled by Ehsan Eshraqi, Tehran, 1350/1971, p.14; Eskandar-Beik, op. cit., vol. 1, p. 122; Sadeqi-Beik, op. cit., p. 9; Reza-Qoli-Khan Hedayat, Rowzat-os-Safa-ye Nasseri, lithographic copy, vol. 8, and other sources.

13_ Yek chand pay-e zomorrod-e sudeh shodim,

Yek chand be yaqut-e tar aludeh shodim.

Aludeh go’i bood be har rang ke bood,

Shostim be ab-e towbeh asudeh shodim.

For a while We went after ground emerald,

For a while We became soiled with wet ruby,

T’was an abhorrent sh… whatever its color,

[We] washed them away to the fountain of redemption and reached peace of mind.

From Shah Tahmasb’s poems. See Tazkere-ye Shah Tahmasb, op. cit., pp. 29-30; Bigdeli Shamloo, op. cit., vol. 1, p. 74; Taqi-ed-Din Owhadi, op. cit., folio 332; Sadeqi-Beik Afshar, op. cit., p. 9.

14-Budaq, op. cit., folio 307; Mahmood ebn-e Khandmir, Tarikh-e Safaviyeh,

microfilm at the central library of Tehran University, no. 5497, folio 121; Qazi Ahmad also mentions these facts in Kholasat-ot-Tavarikh, pp. 224-6.

15-Budaq, op. cit.; Rumloo records this event as having taken place in 940 AH, after the Shah’s amends, and he refers to the royal wine cup as the royal sherbet cup. See Rumloo, op. cit., pp. 253-4.

16-Mir-Ahmadi, Maryam, Din va Dowlat dar ‘Asr-e Safavi, 2nd printing, Tehran, Amir Kabir, 1369/1990, p. 67, who says: “Under Shah Tahmasb I, in 943 AH (AD 1536 AD), the (religious) title of Sadr was bestowed upon Amir-Mo‘ezz-ed-Din. Mo‘ezz-ed-Din devoted efforts at disseminating the Shi‘ite creed, and it was during his office that, upon his orders, opium smoking dens, liquor stores and gambling houses were demolished.” He continues: “Generally speaking, the clergy’s influence in Safavid times reaches its peak under Esma‘il I, when it acquires such extraordinary strength that court orders become applicable only when sanctioned by religious authorities.” Elsewhere, while introducing Sheikh ‘Ameli Karaki (Mohaqqeq-e Karaki), he writes: “His influence at the Safavid court reached such heights that it actually followed his orders; in fact, the reign was practically his. Royal edicts and orders only became valid with his assent, and a royal edict was even circulated across the country, to the effect that all the people were required to “abide by the Sheikh’s orders”, because he was the delegate of the Twelfth Imam (PBUH) and that reigning was rightfully his, of whom the Shah proclaimed himself a mere subject.” In this concern, Ms. Mir-Ahmadi refers the reader to Rayhanat-ol-Adab fi Tarajem-ol-Ma‘rufin Be-l-Konyeh va-l-Laqab, vol. 5, p. 245. She has also recorded the of the Sheikh’s

death date as 940, i.e., during Shah Tahmasb’s first atonement.

17-Mostafa ‘Ali Afandi, op. cit., p. 105; Qazi Ahmad, Golestan-e Honar, pp. 101-2, who gives fresh information about him and quotes two diptychs deriding him. Also see notes 72 & 73.

18-Mahmood ebn-e Hedayat Afushte’i Natanzi, op. cit., p. 16.

19-Historic sources are filled with this kind of anecdote. E.g., Budaq, op. cit., folio 300, Qazi Ahmad, Golestan-e Honar, pp. 112-3, and Kholasat-ot-Tavarikh, vol. 1, pp. 255 & 597-99, who writes that, fearing the Shah’s severity, no one committed unholy acts, and whoever played a musical instrument had his hand severed. However, exceptions did exist. Budaq writes that Behzad, then in his old age, still drank wine and the Shah knew about it: “… despite the interdiction his wine kept flowing and the Supreme Delegate knew it …”. Budaq, op. cit., folio 114. A number of writers have seen this ubiquitous austerity as a factor that prompted some Persians to emigrate. Thus, Bayazid Bayat writes that Molla Doost (Doost-e Divaneh / Mosavver), “unable to go on living without wine, which was prohibited since the Shah’s amends, had come into Mirza-Kamran’s presence without prior permission.” See: Bayazid Bayat, Tazkere-ye Homayun va Akbar, emended by Mohammad Hedayat Hossein, Calcutta, 1941, p. 66; In relation with the Shah’s amends and the public prohibition on liquors, a narrative of Mowlana Hairati, a member of the Shah’s entourage according to Eskandar-Beik, is worth hearing. It is said that Mowlana Hairati, who, according to Khoshgu, spent most of his time drinking wine and entertaining paramours, wrote a poem on the prohibition the following diptych of which was reported to the king by jealous telltales:

Az hasad emrooz zahed man‘-e ma az badeh kard,

Varna kay an na-mosalman ra gham-e farda-ye ma-st.

Out of jealousy the pious one today has forbidden us the cup,

For that non-Muslim’s not worried in the least of our tomorrow.

The Shah, who was exceedingly strict on matters concerning religious interdictions, as most sources have reported, became so angry that Mowlana Hairati fled to Gilan. A few years later he wrote a sonnet in praise of the Immaculate Imams. It is said that, in his dreams, Shah Tahmasb saw the King of Men, the King of Believers, writing down Hairati’s ode, and that he thereupon pardoned Hairati and summoned him to the court. Khoshgu recounts that Hairati was among the king’s retinue during his visit of India. See: Khoshgu, Safine-ye Khoshgu, manuscript at Malek Library, no. 4305, folios 118-119; Amin Ahmad Razi, Tazkere-ye Haft Eqlim, emended and annotated by Javad Fazel, vol. 2, Tehran, ‘Elmi Book Store, p. 317; Concerning the relationship between

Mowlana Hairati and Shah Tahmasb, see note 8. Also, concerning the poetic duel between Hairati and Homayun, see: ‘Abd-ol-Baqi Nahavandi, Ma’aser-e Rahimi, compiled and emended by Mohammad Hedayat, Calcutta, 1924-31, vol. 1, p. 612, and other sources.

20-Babur Shah, or Baburnameh, lithography, Bombay, Malek-ol-Kottab, 1308, pp. 206-7; Badvani has related the atonement of Soltan ‘Ala’-ed-Din Khalaji, the governor of Delhi. See ‘Abd-ol-Qader ebn-e Moluk-Shah Badvani, Montakhab-ot-Tavarikh, emended by Mowlavi Ahmad-‘Ali Saheb, compiled by Kabir-ed-Din Ahmad, vol. 1, Calcutta, 1868, pp. 186-8.

21-Dickson, M. B. & Welch, S. C., The Houghton Shahnameh, Cambridge, 1981, vol. 1, pp. 119, 123-4; Welch, S. C., Wonders of the Age, Harvard University, 1979-80, p. 27.

22-Budaq, op. cit., folios 113-114; Qazi Ahmad, Golestan-e Honar, p. 99; on page 88, Qazi Ahmad also writes: “That Lofty Majesty eventually became displeased with the practices of calligraphy and painting, and absorbed himself with handling the kingdom’s important issues, bringing prosperity to its cities, and assuring the welfare of his subjects.”; Eskandar-Beik also mentions in p. 174 the event and writes that the Shah “had dismissed the library’s personnel still alive, who now worked on their own.” Also concerning the fate of the painters of the age, such as Mir-Zain-ol-‘Abedin and Mowlana ‘Abd-ol-Jabbar-e Astar-Abadi-e Ta‘liq-Nevis-e Naqqash, he writes that these painters and their students “… had created a painting workshop, and worked there.” And he adds about Mir-Zain-ol-‘Abedin: “but he himself always worked for high-ranking officers and aristocrats, and received due consideration…”; naturally enough, had the Shah’s about-face been based on strictly religious grounds, these painters could not have opened a private studio or worked for princes and aristocrats. Thus, Qazi Ahmad, in Golestan-e Honar, pp. 93-4, writes about the calligrapher Mowlana Malek that he “found employment, by order of the Shelter of Mankind, His Majesty the Shah, at Soltan Ebrahim’s library…”

However, on page 178, Eskandar-Beik writes that, near the end of his life, when he had become exceedingly strict on matters concerning religious interdictions, Shah Tahmasb no more considered the poets as honest, pious people, and paid little attention to them. Eskandar-Beik adds that, the Princess Pari-Khan Khanom having received two sonnets which Mowlana Mohtashem Kashani had written in her and Shah Tahmasb’s praise, she submitted them to the Shah, who refrained from making the usual gift to the poet, saying that, rather than praising him, poets should write poems in praise of the Immaculate Imams and expect their gifts from the holy souls of those saint men, and only afterwards from the court.

23-“Vincento d’Allessandri’s Travel Account”, in Safarname-ha-ye Venizian dar Iran, translated by Dr. Manuchehr Amiri, Tehran, Kharazmi Publications, 1st printing, 1349/1970, pp. 437-8.

24-Qazi Ahmad, Kholasat-ot-Tavarikh, vol. 1, p. 599.

25-Rumloo, op. cit., p. 489.

26-Qazi Ahmad, Kholasat-ot-Tavarikh, vol. 1, p. 599.

27-Chardin, Jean, Voyages du Chevalier Chardin en Perse, translated by Mohammad ‘Abbasi, vol. 8, Tehran, Amir Kabir, 1345 (1966), p. 307.

28-“Vincento d’Allessandri’s Travel Account”, op. cit., p. 448.

29-Ibid., Budaq records the Qurchis’ number as three thousand and says that the Shah had “another three thousand Yasavols and Bukavols…” Budaq, op. cit., folio 299; Eskandar-Beik records the royal army’s number at the time of his death as six thousand, namely 4,500 Qurchis and around 1,500 Yasavols, Bukavols, etc…” Eskandar-Beik, op. cit., p. 141; but Qazi Ahmad, in his Kholasat-ot-Tavarikh, vol. 1, p. 599, gives the exaggerated number of 200,000 paid men.

30-Rumloo, op. cit., p. 481. 31Ibid., p. 489.

32- Molk ra bovad bar ‘adu dast-e chir,

Cho lashkar del-asudeh bashand o sir.

Cho darand ganj az sepah darigh,

Darigh ayadash dast bordan be tigh.

The realm has the upper hand over the foe,

Only when the army’s serene at heart and sated.

When the army’s denied a share in the treasure,

It’s reluctant to take up arms.

Some sources mention the raids of the Qezelbash during the reign of Shah Tahmasb. In Tarikh-e Safaviyeh and Kholasat-ot-Tavarikh, we come across very important points concerning these raids and the sacking of Herat. See Mahmood ebn-e Khandmir, pp. 107, 112 & 118; Qazi Ahmad, pp. 219-221.

33-Sharaf-Khan, op. cit., vol. 2, p. 251.

34-Qazi Ahmad, Kholasat-ot-Tavarikh, p. 599.

35-Reza-Qoli-Khan Hedayat, op. cit., vol. 8, who provides information on Shah Tahmasb’s illness and death, and about differences regarding the Shah’s wealth in those days.

36-Budaq, op. cit., folio 299, who writes, after noting that the Shah’s time was devoted from dawn to dusk to addressing important universal issues: “… Advocates, ministers, tax collectors and writers lost all power of adding or subtracting an iota on their own…”, and Rumloo, p. 489, who writes: “And in his old age, he sat at his books from sunrise to sunset, attending to his realm’s affairs and keeping count of his wealth, and neither an advocate nor a minister

could give a single coin to anyone without his permission…”

Interestingly, Eskandar-Beik writes that, in his old age, the Shah’s multifarious affairs left him no time for painting and paying attention to it, and immediately adds that the Shah had dismissed the personnel of his library. See Eskandar-Beik, op. cit., p. 174. Qazi Ahmad has a similar description in Golestan-e Honar, p. 88. See note 22. In our view, a king who spent his days keeping count of his wealth and withheld his troops’ wages was obviously not going to lavish funds on artists and art workshops! But Golchin-e Ma‘ani, in Tarikh-e Tazkere-ha-ye Farsi, vol. 1, Tehran University Publications, 1348-50/1960-62, pp. 429-30, has included a poem of Fakhri Heravi, in which Shah Tahmasb is praised, and whose last diptych includes an interesting exaggeration of his munificence:

Ze bas ku bebakhshad gowhar be kas,

Bepichad bar khish darya ke bas.

So many gems he bestows to everyone,

That the sea writhes in anguish, meaning ‘enough!’

37-“Vincento d’Allessandri’s Travel Account”, op. cit., p. 441.

38-Ibid., p. 439.

39-Ibid., pp. 441-2.

40-For example, Eskandar-Beik, vol. 2, p. 381, writes: “The agreeable province of Esfahan, known far and wide as ‘Half of the Word’, most of whose lands were the private property of His Majesty…”

41-Chardin, vol. 8, p. 154.

Che hajat tigh-e Shahi ra be khun-e har kas aludan,

To benshin o esharat kon be chashmi ya be abru’i.

What’s the need for the royal sword to become stained with anyone’s blood?

Just sit down and make a sign, with an eye or with an eyebrow.

42-An example in case is that of the Seal Keeper, Amir-Beik, who was accused of sorcery and casting spells on astral bodies, soon captured in Sabzevar by Shah Tahmasb’s order, and put into a case with his hands protruding from its walls and tied together so that he could not use his fingers to try magic tricks. Qazi Ahmad says that the famous poet Qazzali Mashhadi was sent by the Shah’s order to Amir-Beik to recite poems deriding him. Amir-Beik was sent to the fortress of Qahqaheh, and later to the fortress of Alamut, where he remained prisoner until his death. The contents of Shah Tahmasb’s letter addressed to him, which we mentioned earlier in the article and in note 1, indicate that the Shah not only confiscated his hereditary estates, but also pressured him to reveal other likely buried goods and stores he could put his hands on. Concerning the life of the Seal Keeper, Amir-Beik, see Qazi Ahmad, Kholasat-ot-Tavarikh, pp. 220, 611-4, 1349-50; Sam-Mirza-ye Safavi, Tohfe-ye Sami, emendation and preface by Rokn-ed-Din Homayun-Farrokh, Tehran, p. 92; Amin Ahmad Razi,op. cit., vol. 2, p. 439; Rumloo, op. cit., pp. 173, 207-8; Bigdeli Shamloo, op. cit.,

pp. 108-9; Sadeqi-Beik, op. cit., p. 8, who quotes diptychs of Shah Tahmasb’s poems praising him, and other sources. Interestingly, Qazzali Mashhadi himself was later accused of heresy and fled to India. He later became Malek-osh-Sho‘ara (Head Poet), indeed the first Malek-osh-Sho‘ara, of Akbar Shah’s Gurkani court, but he soon accused Mir-Seyyed-‘Ali of plagiarizing Mir-Ashki Qomi. His verbal

arguments with Mir-Seyyed-‘Ali, Nader-ol-Molk Homayunshahi, the illustrious Persian painter of the Gurkani court, ended in Mir-Seyyed-‘Ali migrating to Mecca. Concerning Qazzali Mashhadi’s migration to India, see Sadeqi-Beik, op. cit., pp. 138-9; Badvani, op. cit., vol. 3, pp. 170-2; Khoshgu, op. cit., folio 110. Also see Golchin-e Ma‘ani, Ahmad, Karevan-e Hend, vol. 2, Mashhad, Publications of the Holy Shrine of Emam Reza (pbuh), 1369/1990, pp. 933-5; Nava’i, op. cit., pp. 3-4.

43-For example, Eskandar-Beik-e Torkaman, writing about the life of Mowlana Hasan Baghdadi, records that Shah Tahmasb always chided him for his nonchalant attitude towards religion, but eventually refrained from punishing him when Mowlana Baghdadi had the dome of the Shrine of Hazrat Abu-‘Abdollah decorated, and had him take the oath of amendment. Eskandar-Beik, op. cit., p. 177.

44-Budaq, op. cit., folio 340.

Sabzeh pa-mal ast dar pa-ye derakht-e miveh,

Dar panah-e ‘ahl-e dowlat’ hast khari bishtar.

The grass under the fruit tree gets trampled.

Under the shelter of ‘those in the government’, t’is one more spine.

Vahdat-e Qomi; “The [king’s] brothers, intimates, generals and high military commanders were referred to as ‘ahl-e dowlat’ (‘Those in the Government’), Khandmir, “Qanun-e Homayuni”, in Ma’aser-ol-Moluk, emended by Mir-Hashem Mohaddess, Tehran, 1372/1993, p. 264.

But the ‘ahl-e dowlat’ themselves occasionally fell prey to the Shah’s bloodstained policies. Chardin says that the gory affair of the Safavid kings’ punishments involved their courtiers, intimates and mistresses more often than ordinary people. Chardin, op. cit., vol. 8, pp. 155-6, 196, 242 ff.; Qazi Ahmad, in his Kholasat-ot-Tavarikh, p. 156, and Eskandar-Beik, in his ‘Alam-ara-ye ‘Abbasi, p. 159, also quote a diptych by Khajeh Jalal-ed-Din Mohammad Tabrizi, Shah Esma‘il I’s minister who was cremated alive on Shah Tahmasb’s accession, which attests to this truth:

45- Gereftam khaneh dar ku-ye bala dar man atash gereft,

Kasi ku khaneh dar ku-ye bala girad chonin girad.

In an upper street I made my home, and it consumed me.

So will be anyone coming to dwell in upper streets.

Budaq has also recorded this event, on folio 300. See note 19; also see ‘Abdi-Beig, op. cit., pp. 60-1; Rumloo, op. cit., p. 184.

46-Browne, Edward G., A Literary History of Persia, translated by Rashid Yasami, vol. 4, Tehran, Book Foundation, 2nd printing, 1364/1985, pp. 7-35.

47-India was then referred to as Dar-ol-Aman, i.e, ‘Safe Abode’.

48-Qazizadeh Molla Ahmad Tatavi, op. cit., folio 1045, who adds: “… in this country …, whoever he may be and wherever he may come from, is given adequate, nay, more than adequate, education and consideration, and as soon as he manifests a small degree of valor, although the people of this land are all famous for their courage among other nations, he is rewarded in hundred ways. The dignity of …”

In contrast to the appreciation of talents in India, Chardin describes the greatest Safavid kings as men who “… do not appreciate talent, merit or even the importance of assignments, and when they appoint someone to a post, they do so without any concern about its importance…” Chardin, op. cit., vol. 8, p. 169.

49-Ab-ol-Fazl ‘Allami, Akbarnameh, emended by Mowlavi Agha Ahmad ‘Ali & Mowalvi ‘Abd-or-Rahim, vol. 1, New Delhi, p. 220.

50- Ze ahl-e honar har ke amad barash,

Begostard zell-e karam bar sarash.

Upon any artist who joined him,

He extended the shade of his munificence.

Rumloo, op. cit., pp. 391-2; a lak was equivalent to 200 Tomans and 100,000 Rupees; Badvani, op. cit., vol. 1, pp. 467-8; Sadeqi-Beik, op. cit., p. 13; Khandmir, op. cit., p. 266.

51-Jahangir Padeshah, in Tuzuk-e Jahangiri, Lucknow, pp. 7-8, who writes, in the first year of his [Homayun’s] reign, that ‘Abd-os-Samad, upon whom

Homayun had bestowed the title of Shirin-Qalam, “… ranked among their auspicious circle’s attending and conversing members …” He adds that this respect towards him continued during the reign of Akbar Shah.

52-Bayazid Bayat, op. cit., pp. 67-8.

53-Some sources record Homayun and Prince Akbar taking painting lessons with Persian painters. See: ‘Allami, Akbarnameh, vol. 2, p. 42; Jahangir Padeshah, op. cit., pp. 18-19.

54-‘Allami, Akbarnameh, vol. 1, p. 342; Bayazid Bayat, op. cit., p. 177.

55-Budaq, op. cit., folios 1320-21; Qazi Ahmad, in his Kholasat-ot-Tavarikh, vol. 1, p. 405, writes about Bayram-Khan: “Bayram-Khan was a pious Shi‘ite man and he greatly revered Seyyeds [descendants of the Holy Prophet of Islam] and devout people. Whoever went that way from Khorasan was warmly received.”; and ‘Abd-ol-Baqi Nahavandi writes about him: “If you wish [to hear about] his humanity, goodwill, generosity and talent, go ask the people of the Inhabited Quarter, particularly the Persians, who have time and again heard about the openhandedness with which this deprived group was treated while he was a vakil and during his reign as Khan-Khan, and about the wealth of gold and silver he lavished upon them when they returned to India…” See: ‘Abd-ol-Baqi Nahavandi, op. cit., vol. 2, p. 59; who records that Shah Tahmasb had given Bayram-Khan the title of Khan-Khan, vol. 2, pp. 19-20.

56-‘Abd-ol-Baqi Nahavandi, op. cit., vol. 2, pp. 515-537, 601; who, for example, writes on page 601: “… In the days when this transformer of India into Persia accessed to the throne of this realm…” In the third volume of his book, he quotes this quatrain about Khan-Khan:

Ta dahr shokuh-e Khan-Khani did,

Bar ‘ahd-e Sekandar o Solayman khandid.

Az bas ke nahadand be dargahash ru,

Iran shod Hend o Hend Iran gardid.

Eternity upon seeing the glory the Khan of Khans,

Laughed at the times of Alexander and Solomon.

So many set out towards his court,

That Persia became India, and India Persia.

Also see Riazul Islam, Indo-Persian Relations, Lahore, 1970, p. 243, and its translation into Persian, Riaz-ol-Eslam, Tarikh-e Ravabet-e Iran va Hend, translated by Mohammad-Baqer Aram & ‘Abbas-Qoli Ghaffari Fard, Tehran, Amir Kabir, 1373/1994, p. 355, where ‘Abd-ol-Baqi Nahavandi is thus quoted: “This (great) man, who transformed India into Persia…”

Elsewhere, Nahavandi writes: “… Persia is India’s school and those with talent learn devices here which they utilize in India in the exalted court of this chieftain…”, vol., 3, p. 46. Also from him is this diptych:

Dar ‘Eraq-e por-nefaq in arezu misuzadam,

Kaz sokhan-sanjan-e bazm-e Khan-e Khanan nistam.

In strife-stricken ‘Eraq I’m consumed by the anguish,

Of not being among the learned in the Khan of Khans’ court.

Vol. 1, p. 13.

57-Samsam-od-Dowleh Shahnavaz-Khan, Tazkere-ye Ma’aser-ol-Omara, emended by Mowlavi Mirza Ashraf, vol. 1, Calcutta, 1309/1930, pp. 696-7 & 709-10. He thus continues: “… In his time, owners of different arts were gathered at his court as in the days of Soltan-Hossein-Mirza and Mir-‘Ali-Shir…”

58-Shahnavaz-Khan, op. cit., vol. 3, p. 408; Mahabat-Khan greatly contributed to the fortification of the foundations of Jahangir’s empire, and later to the formation of Shah Jahan’s. One of his sons, Amanollah (Khan-e Zaman), who wrote by the pen name of Amani, was also very fond of conversing with Persian poets and entertained many of them in his circle. Mirza ‘Abd-on-Nabi Fakhr-oz-Zamani Qazvini, the author of Tazkere-ye Meykhaneh, was his particular librarian. See Tazkere-ye Meykhaneh, emended by Ahmad Golchin-e Ma‘ani, Tehran, 1367/1988, 5th printing, pp. 762-8; Khoshgu thus writes about Mahabat-Khan: “… He was highly perceptive and very patient, dealing generously with his time’s poets and expressing measured admiration for talented orators…”, Khoshgu, op. cit., folios 185-6.

59-Khoshgu, op. cit., folio 24; Concerning the relations between Sa’eb Tabrizi and Zafar-Khan, also see Mirza Mohammad-Taher Nasrabadi, Tazkere-ye Nasrabadi, emended and compared by Vahid Dastgerdi, Tehran, Armaghan Printing House, 1317/1938, pp. 57 & 217-8.

Khan-e Khanan ra be bazm o razm-e Sa’eb dide-am,

Dar sakha-v-o dar shaja‘at chun Zafar-Khan-e to nist.

Man o del cho fariad o afghan mi-konim,

Zafar-Khan, Zafar-Khan, Zafar-Khan konim.

The Khan of Khans I’ve seen apt in Sa’eb’s wars and festivities alike.

In generosity and courage no one equals your Zafar-Khan.

When me and my heart are shouting and moaning,

‘Tis Zafar-Khan, Zafar-Khan, Zafar-Khan we’re repeating.

60-Many Persian artists and poets attribute their success to their migration to India. Sa’eb Tabrizi says in this concern:

Boland-nam nagardad kasi ke dar vatan ast,

Ze naqsh-e sadeh bovad ta ‘aqiq dar Yaman ast.

No one acquires fame in his own country.

Agate seems of little value as long as it’s in Yemen.

As for his own fame, he says:

Pish az in har chand shohrat dasht dar molk-e ‘Eraq,

Seir-e molk-e Hend Sa’eb ra boland-avazeh kard.

Though he was known in the realm of ‘Eraq in the past,

It was his travel to India that made Sa’eb famous.

61-Golchin-e Ma‘ani, Ahmad, Karevan-e Hend, vol. 2, op. cit.

62-Schimmel, Anne-Marie, Islamic Literature of India, translated by Ya‘qub Azhand, Tehran, 1371/1992, p. 37; Thus Persian artists and poets came to be so esteemed in India that being Persian was regarded a special distinction. Khoshgu relates the Indian Molla Shayda’s complaint of being railed by the Persians for being Indian. See Khoshgu, op. cit., folio 210.

63-Brown, Percy, Indian Painting under the Mughal, Oxford, 1924, pp. 56 & 112.

64-Concerning the Hamzehnameh, see ‘Allami, A’in-e Akbari, vol. 1, Calcutta, 1872, p. 117; Badvani, op. cit., vol. 3, p. 211; Shahnavaz-Khan, op. cit., vol. 2, pp. 2-3; and other sources.

65-See note 19.

66-Smith, Vincent A., A History of Fine Art in India and Ceylon, India, 1969, p. 182; Welch, S. C., The Art of Mughal India, New York, 1975, p. 17. Also Dimand, S. M., Rahnama-ye Sanaye‘-e Eslami, translated by ‘Abdollah Faryar, Tehran, Scientific & Cultural Publications Co., 2nd printing, 1365/1986, p. 70.

67-Adle, Ch., “Les artistes nommés Doust-Mohammad au XVIe siècle”, in Studia Iranica, 22.2, 1993, pp. 249, 252, 256.

68-Bayazid Bayat, op. cit., p. 66.

69-‘Allami, A’in-e Akbari, vol. 1, pp. 116-8.

70-Brown, P., op. cit., p. 119.

71-‘Allami, A’in-e Akbari, vol. 1, p. 200.

72-See note 17.

73-Budaq, op. cit., folio 114; Qazi Ahmad, Golestan-e Honar, pp. 140-1; Mostafa ‘Ali Afandi, op. cit., pp. 105-6.

74-Budaq, op. cit.; many art experts believe that Mohammadi was Soltan Mohammad’s son. Mostafa ‘Ali refers to him as Mohammad-Beik. See Mostafa ‘Ali, op. cit., p. 104.

75-Ibid.; Qazi Ahmad also gives explanations about some artists and poets who migrated to India. See Golestan-e Honar, pp. 92, 102-4, 123, etc.; Sadeqi-Beik, op. cit., pp. 77-8 & 90.

76-Gray, Basil, A Glance upon Persian Painting, translated by Firooz Shirvanloo, Tehran, 2535/1976, p. 155; Here Gray is quoting Khandmir.

77-Concerning the migration of Persian physicians to India, see Elgood, Cyril, Medicine in the Safavid Period, translated by Mohsen Javidan, Tehran, Tehran University, 1357/1978, chapter 5, Emigrated physicians and the influence of Persian medicine upon India; ‘Abd-ol-Baqi Nahavandi, op. cit., vol. 3.

78-Molla ‘Abd-on-Nabi Fakhr-oz-Zamani Qazvini, op. cit., p. 761.

79-Ibid., pp. 258-9; Also, on page 631, Hakim ‘Aref Iguy Hendustan is thus quoted: “… I saw an extremely prosperous land and infinitely pleasant and comfortable cities, and so decided to spend my entire lifetime in that land…”

80-Amin Ahmad Razi, op. cit., vol. 1, p. 381; Khaless Estarabadi has thus spoken of India’s attributes:

Ze Khubi-ha-ye Hend in khish bas,

Ke hargez nist kas ra kar ba kas.

Of the qualities of India ‘tis enough to say,

That no one there interferes in anyone else’s affairs.

See Tazkere-ye Maykhaneh, introduction.

It has also been said that:

Shab ra baray-e rahat-e tan afaride-and,

Dar Hend mitavan do se roozi nafas keshid.

The night was created for the body to rest,

In India one can breathe a couple of days.

See Mirza-Mohammad-Taher Nasrabadi, op. cit., p. 184.

81-Brown, P., op. cit., p. 64.

82-Jahangir Padeshah, op. cit., p. 77.

83-Ibid., vol. 2, p. 237.

84-Ibid.

85-See notes 59 & 60.

86-Brown, P., op. cit., p. 93.

87-In Ma’aser-ol-Omara, we read in this concern: “… God be praised. After this (now that the Persian destiny has been upset and Safavid rule has come to an end) many a member of this family has sought refuge in India, for here royalty has lost its luster and governmental affairs no more enjoy their past worth (to which no attention was paid). Each of them has hastily found an abode and been given a living as soon as his or her kinship with the Supreme Family has been established…” See Shahnavaz-Khan, vol. 3, p. 683.

88-Brown, P., op. cit., p. 148.

89-Riazul Islam, op. cit., p. 227; and its translation into Persian, Riaz-ol-Eslam, op. cit., p. 334, who quotes the Tarikh-e ‘Abbasi manuscript, Bodleian Library, Oxford, folios 48 a-b. This extravagant sentence appears tainted with racial pride. In this concern, see note 62.

From East to West

Catherine Frotier

Translated from French to Farsi by Jalal Sattari,
from Farsi to English by Claude Karbassi
All images from L`Oeil . No .199_200. July _August 1971

(Farairan Magazine, No 7)

The Eastern sources of Western art have long been identified. Emile Mâle, Henri Focillon and Jean Baltrusaitis have traced back the major characteristics of this influence to their origins. They have explored the meanders of this river, which has been the feeding source of European art in the Middle Ages and the fountainhead of its prosperity. Therefore, repeating it would be pointless here. Yet, how is it possible, in a collection dedicated to the investigation of the main aspects of Persian art1, to not mention, at least through a few examples, this phenomenon which has an astonishing expansion, originality and novelty? Western culture, has greatly benefited from Iran’s influence in the domain of decorative arts. Persia acquired symbolic and decorative motifs from the most ancient civilizations, filtered and analyzed them, and then propagated them across the entire Mediterranean basin. Occasionally the rules and standards of the iconography developed on the Iranian Plateau reached north of the Alps indirectly, through bases such as Muslim-dominated Constantinople, Sicily and Spain. According to Ghirshman,
“these passed through the same course which leads through Sumer and Babylon and Ninive to Achaemenian and Samanid Persia, and therefrom reaches the Byzantine Empire, Islam and Roman Europe.”

The Muslim conquests, the Crusades, pilgrimages, diplomatic relations and trade exchanges wove a dense, intricate network from the North Sea to the Persian Gulf, the first manifestations of which appeared during Carolingian2 rule.

That was when the Western world first discovered, liked and appreciated Eastern textiles. The superb silk fabrics which Harun al-Rashid sent for Charlemagne and the ones found in Scandinavia, France and Britain in tombs and reliquaries of the saints and rulers dating back to after the 11th century, indicate the popularity of original Eastern motifs in Europe. Motifs such as mythical, imaginary animals on Roman capitals, or patterns of pomegranate trees or acanthus shrubs on the velvets of Tuscany3 and Venice from the Renaissance period, are just a few examples of the multitude of decorative patterns that originated in Iran.

Patterns of mythical animals, griffins standing face-to-face, back-to-back or fighting, winged lions, two-headed eagles, imaginary mythical animals and birds, equally appear on Byzantine, Coptic and Islamic textiles (making it sometimes difficult to spot their place of origin)All these figures were created in Sasanian Persia, often in combination with elements belonging to Achaemenian art.The same process was repeated in much later periods in the case of flowers and foliage.

It would suffice to select and consider a few examples of the west’s direct adaptions from Persia art, to identify the decorative originality and quality of Persian art.

Examples of of western distortion of Persian art demonstrate the simple, sincere and non-acadmic imagination, skill and mystical East which they could observe.

A comparison of the different changes which some motifs underwent while traveling along the Mediterranean shores before reaching a scriptorium in Paris, a weaving workshop in lower Saxony, or a Roman church in Poitou, is also interesting. Undoubtedly, one of these major stations was Arabian (Muslim) Sicily, whose Norman rulers and the silk-weaving workshops established upon the orders of Roger II were the inheritors of the Persian tradition. After the uprising of the Sicilian people against the French on March 30, 1282 (Sicilian Vespers), the craftsmen of Palermo migrated north to Lucques, carrying with them a collection of oriental motifs. The next stage of this progress took place when the Ghibellines plundered the city in 1314, causing the closure of its workshops and the flight of its workers to Ghent or their crossing the Alps to take refuge in Avignon and Lyon.

Some of the stopovers on this meandering path are not unknown, but some others may yet come to light with the discovery of artifacts not yet encountered. Therefore, this investigation, which at times resembles a delicate autopsy and at others appears as a game, can be continued. Indeed, detecting the age-worn echo of an Iranian motif in a painting of the Fontainebleau School, put at the disposal of the sculptors of the Rouen cathedral at an earlier date and visibly consistent with Iranian art up to the 16th and 18th centuries, is akin to a game.

Persia acquired symbolic and decorative motifs from the most ancient civilizations, filtered and analyzed them , and then propagated them across the entire Mediterranean basin.

However, in order to complete the analysis of the relations between the East and the West, the opposite trend, i.e. the penetration of some elements of European art into Asia Minor should also be investigated. This current took Italian lithographs to Constantinople, familiarized Iranian painters with French illuminated paintings, and eventually attracted such artists as Gentile Bellini to the Ottoman court. Other instances of this infiltration are known. Undoubtedly, Charlemagne had earlier reciprocated Harun al-Rashid’s gifts. The ambassadors of King Edward and Jacques II of Aragon had not visited Persia empty-handed in 1292 and 1300 respectively. Many objects “made in the overseas styles” are found in the detailed list of the properties of a collector such as Duc Jean de Berry. We also know that the penalty Philip the Bold paid to Bajazet for the release of his son, John the Fearless, taken prisoner in Nicopolis in 1396, included weapons, saddles, hawks, falcons and textiles. This textiles included fabrics woven in Reims, ornate purple cloths woven in Brussels, and rugs from Arras illustrated with ancient stories, of which the Sultan was extremely fond. Incidentally, one of these drapes depicts the conquests of Alexander: a tit for tat. Is not the myth of Alexander and the story of vultures lifting his chariot into the sky, context borrowed from the east by Italy and Northern Europe?

1_The pattern of this Byzantine cloth of the 7th century (Vatican Museum) is an adaptation of a Sasanian theme the origin of which dates back to the Achaemenian era. Consisting of a hunting scene in which kings and paladins, mounted or on foot, are shown fighting against lions, boars and fantastic imaginary animals. This scene was frequently depicted on Sasanian ivory tablets, vessels and imperial seals, and also appeared on bas-reliefs at Persepolis (6th century BC) and Sar-Mashhad (3rd century). This motif, drawn on Sasanian cloths in a symmetrical layout within circular medallions, was taken to Europe via the Byzantine Empire. The original Achaemenian and Sasanian wild animals assumed a much freer violent nature in Roman sculpture (figure 2).

2_ The 11th century scene depicted on this capital in the church of Saint-Hilaire de Melle, at Deux-Sèvres, is an adaptation of two Sasanian themes. First, a hunting scene (figure 1), and second, animals shredding each other. Seen abundantly in Achaemenian art (Persepolis bas-reliefs, plates and goblets of the 5th century BC), these were later displayed as elaborate patterns in Sasanian art (figure 3).

3_ Decorated cloth inspired by Sasanian art apparently woven in Egypt in the 7th century and belonging to the Berlin Museum. Lions standing face to face and the battle between animals depicted on the cloth are indicative of the currency and propagation of the two subjects referred to earlier. This an adaptation of a typical Sasanian motif, i.e., that of riders looking at each other from either side of a Tree of Life.

4_ Eastern Persia: Fighting lions, 8th-9th century, the Vatican Museum. This decorative motif, i.e., that of lions standing face to face or back to back, whose source of inspiration in the West is Sasanian art, is abundantly found on works of art ranging from the Roman stone capitals of Moissac and Toulouse to the colorful cloths woven in the 14th century at Lucques. The picture of an unquestionably Egyptian copy of this motif on a piece of cloth woven in Egypt and kept in the Berlin Museum is reproduced here (figure 3).

5 & 6_ The “lion passing” motif adorns this Sasanian cloth (7th-8th century), and the famous Persepolis bas-relief (5th century BC) with two motifs: animals in a single row and a strip of small, elaborate flowers in another. This is indicative of the continuity in Iran of an art whose very ancient examples can be referred to on gold goblets and tablets of the Ziviyyeh treasure (7th century BC) and the relief of Susa (Louvre Museum). This subject expanded to southern Siberia (the 4th – 3rd century BC Pazirik carpet, which in fact was a horse mat), and was also used in sculpture and icons relating to family and knighthood and miniature icons of the West (see figure 7).

7_ The decoration of the Book of Gospels of Echternach (11th century). The origins of this decorative subject can be traced through several centuries, from Persepolis bas-reliefs to Sasanian fabrics decorated with “passing” or face to face lions (figures 4 and 6).

8 & 9_ A Roman capital in the Chauvigny church (Vienna) (figure 8) and the gold tablet found in Ziviyyeh (Kordestan) in a Scythian grave of the 7th century BC (figure 9). Undoubtedly the origins of the theme of two fantastic winged creatures with a single head are the decorative figures of animals seen on Persian goblets. Here, the figures of the lions or ibexes are engraved on the bodies of the goblets with their (common) heads quite conspicuous. The oldest example of such decoration is a 3rd millennium BC bitumen goblet found in Susa. In medieval sculpture, as can be seen in figures 8 and 9, this theme was often engraved on the corners of column capitals. However, it was also occasionally used on thresholds, tympana or door frontispieces (for example in Saint-Gilles de Beauvais church (7th century).

The intertwining arabesques and patterns of Oriental art are among the greatest Eastern sources of inspiration for Western sculptors and decorators.

10, 11 & 12. The juxtaposition of two creatures so that one’s head meets the other’s tail (figure 10), as in the case of the majestic door of the Rouen cathedral (1290-1300), is an adaptation of an ancient Persian theme (which in turn may have been derived from the twin bull-head capitals of Persepolis). Safavid artists

were also successful in employing it, and in fact, several examples similar to the figure reproduced here are preserved in the Guimet Museum (figure 12). On the same basis, and around the same time, an artist of the Fontainebleau school painted a small painting showing “two musicians” (private collection) in which the pictures can be “read” either horizontally or vertically according to the rotation of a plaquette which spins in the center of the painting (figure 11). The composition of two horses is not unprecedented in the West either, as can be seen in the margin of the Petersburg Book of Psalms, dating back to the late 13th century.

13_ Persian silk fabric, 16th century. Blair collection, Chicago.

14_ Virgin Mary enthroned, by Carlo Crivelli. Detail of painting. The Vatican Museum.

15_ Etching on wood with floral motif. Tehran Museum.

16_ Duc de Berry dining. Detail of painting. Miniature manuscript Très riches heures du duc de Berry. Work of Pierre de Limbourg. Chantilly. Condé Museum.

were also successful in employing it, and in fact, several examples similar to the figure reproduced here are preserved in the Guimet Museum (figure 12). On the same basis, and around the same time, an artist of the Fontainebleau school painted a small painting showing “two musicians” (private collection) in which the pictures can be “read” either horizontally or vertically according to the rotation of a plaquette which spins in the center of the painting (figure 11). The composition of two horses is not unprecedented in the West either, as can be seen in the margin of the Petersburg Book of Psalms, dating back to the late 13th century.

17_ A piece of silk cloth woven in Persia. 16th century, Paris, Museum of Decorative Arts.

18_ A part of the frame of a wooden shutter. Tehran Museum. The development of the pomegranate flower motif in Persian art (figures 13, 15, 17 and 18) can be traced through very ancient extant examples. The relations between Venice and the Orient and the resulting boom in the trade of textiles explains why the Virgin Mary is wearing a precious dress in Crivelli’s painting (figure 14) and why the Easterners in Gentile Bellini’s paintings are wearing floral cloaks even more splendid than those of the figures in Persian miniatures. The beauty of Oriental textiles did not inspire only the Venitians. Particularly in Florence, and also in France and Spain, precious fabrics were woven in imitation of Oriental textiles. Thus, in the famous miniature of the Très riches heures (figure 16), the motifs on garments, the details of which are precisely depicted, speak of the fame and popularity which textiles with Oriental decoration enjoyed in the court of the Duc de Berry. In creating this work, the artist has either been influenced by original textiles or by the engravings similar to the one reproduced here (figure 18). Besides, the detailed list of the possessions of Duc de Berry is comprised of numerous objects, including textiles, metal or glass vessels in the “Overseas” or “Saracen” styles, the major part of which were undoubtedly made in imitation of Oriental examples.

19_ The hem of a cloth woven in the 14th century in Lower Saxony. Hannover Museum.

20_ The capital of a column in Saint-Hilaire de Melle church in Deux-Sèvres.

21_ Costume of Roger II, woven in the 12th century in Palermo (from an 18th century lithograph).

22_ The illuminated margin of Saint Louis’s Book of Psalms (about 1260).

23_ Sasanian cloth (10th-11th century). Cluny Museum.

24_ Decorative plaster shutter frame (fragment). Iran. 13th century. Seattle Museum.

25_ Composition of birds with intertwined necks. Gold thread and silk cloth. Palermo. 14th century. Turin Museum.

26_ A tablet from Persia, decorated with intertwined floral scrolls of green enamel. The intertwining arabesques and patterns of Oriental art are among the greatest Eastern sources of inspiration for Western sculptors and decorators, who at times imitated the most complex patterns, and at times reproduced them in simple compositions (figure 22). These examples show that the motif of animals with intertwined necks, found in Persia from the 6th century (figure 23) to the 13th century (figure 26), were not only transferred to the Muslim (Arab) workshops at the service of Roger II in Palermo (figure 21), but were also inherited throughout Europe by Roman sculptors (figure 20), Parisian decorators (figure 22) and Saxon (figure 19) and Italian (figure 25) weavers.•

1- The special issue of L’Oeil (July-August 1971) from which the present article was translated.

2- Carolingians, the second dynasty of Frankish kings who ruled parts of Western Europe from 751 to 987.

Traces of Anciant Egyptian Culture & Civilization

In the memory of our contemporary artist and woman of letters, Sima Kouban

How do legends make use of historic events? What role does the collective memory of nations play in this use? How does the river of legends flow forth from historic sources? How do the streams of collective memory arisen from historic events in different periods merge into the river of legends? How does the river of legends alter its course, adapting itself to the beliefs of different eras? How does legend change in time and space, and how does it blend with other historic events? And many other questions, to which even a brief investigation of the story of Samak-e ‘Ayyar and its inspiration from the relations between Iran and Egypt in ancient times, may provide some answers.
To the present, little attention has been given to the influence of ancient Egyptian culture on Iranian culture and literature, while we know that, in the Achaemenian period, Egypt was twice a Persian satrapy, for a total of 132 years during the 27th and 31st dynasties, and that the Iranians also ruled over Egypt for a while in the Sasanian period. Monarchical rule was more than twenty-four centuries old in Egypt when Cambyses founded the 27th dynasty, known as the dynasty of Persian Pharaohs. Of course, culture and art were even older in Egypt than monarchical rule, having long reached their summit of perfection when the Iranian conquerors set foot on Egyptian soil. The Iranians were as fascinated by this rich culture and art as the Greeks, among whom Herodotus wrote “… Egypt being, among all the regions of the earth, the richest in marvels.”1 We are not concerned here with assessing the contributions of ancient Egyptian art to Achaemenian or Sasanian arts. Rather, we are seeking to determine how the culture and civilization of a vanquished nation has influenced the collective memory of the victor, as can be traced here and there in a version of Samak-e ‘Ayyar written in the sixth or seventh century (12th-13th c. A.D.) The only manuscript found so far of Samak-e ‘Ayyar is “in three volumes… preserved at the Bodleian Library, Oxford.”2

Parts of this manuscript are missing. Thus, “many pages are absent between volumes two and three,”3 and the story remains unfinished at the end of volume three. Fortunately, Khanlari has unearthed the second volume of a late tenth or early eleventh century (16th-17th c. A.D.) Turkish translation in two volumes of this book. This manuscript is preserved “as item Or. 3298 in the Turkish Manuscripts section of the British Museum Library… under the title of The Story of Farrokhrooz… On the basis of this translation… a large part of the lost pages of the original can be recovered.”4 In his revised edition, Khanlari has included the Persian translation of the Turkish second volume from the beginning to the point where the story rejoins the beginning of the Persian third volume at the Bodleian Library. However, parts of the text remain obscure. Thus, at the end of the second volume at the Bodleian Library, Prince Farrokhrooz is a two and a half year old tot (when he comes in possession of Siamak’s treasure), while at the beginning of the Turkish translation’s second volume he is a youth in love wondering “how he can endure the absence of Golbooy.”5

The hero of the story is an elfin paladin known as Samak-e ‘Ayyar6, who together with his companion brigands, gives assistance to Khorshid Shah, the son of Marzban Shah, and his son, Prince Farrokhrooz, and is eventually entitled ‘Alamafrooz after rendering outstanding services.

In Khanlari’s opinion: “The phrasing of the book is such that it appears to have been written to be narrated…” He continues: “Samak-e ‘Ayyar is a Persian popular story that has brought entertainment and joy to the people of this land for many centuries and which storytellers have learned from their masters or fathers, spending their entire lives retelling it in towns and villages, and eventually conferring this social service on their own students or sons before departing.”7

Some attribute the original story of Samak-e ‘Ayyar to the Parthian period. The oath of the story’s heroes to “… Noor, Nar, Mehr and the Seven Stars…” can be seen as a relic of Mithraic beliefs. Khanlari, without putting forth a date, highlights points that indicate a relation between this story and pre-Islamic Iranian narratives, including the “appellation of Khorshid Shah, the main hero of the story of Samak-e ‘Ayyar,” which he believes corresponds “to what is recorded in the Pahlavi book Bondehesh … concerning the descendants of the Kiani monarch, Manuchehr.”8 In the preface to his Shahr-e Samak, he adds: “These types of popular stories have very ancient origins in the history of a people’s life. Narrators learn them from one another in the course of time, transmitting them from bosom to bosom, while tinting each in accordance with their times and social developments so that they remain familiar to their listeners. However, their overall structure remained in place as massive tree trunks, with only their branches altered now and then.” Khanlari concludes: “Perhaps the roots of this story must be sought in very ancient times. The original story appears to have come into being in the heroic period and been repeatedly revived and renovated in the course of time.”9

The author, taking into consideration the concepts involved in some illustrations and textual passages, believes that some of the story’s events must be traced in the Iranians’ collective memory in relation to Egypt, from antiquity to the time when the story was written, i.e., the seventh century A.H. (13th c. A.D.) The origins of this relationship may be remnants from the time when Cambyses invaded Egypt. Here we concern ourselves only with those parts and illustrations of this book that may be related to the Iranians’ perception of Egyptian civilization and culture.

The three existing volumes of the Samak-e ‘Ayyar manuscript contain 80 illustrations. The calligraphy and illustration of this copy were undoubtedly commissioned by its author, whose social status was enhanced to the best ability of the artists involved. These types of paintings have come to be known as the Provincial School, owing to their distinctly lower artistic quality in comparison with the illustrations of manuscripts produced in royal and princely courts. On the other hand, these crude paintings made by one or a few painters constitute a rare source of knowledge on popular beliefs, customs and ways of life in the sixth and seventh centuries A.H. (12th-13th c. A.D.)10

The discussion of the visual significance of these paintings, which are believed to be relics of the pre-Islamic tradition of mural painting in southwestern Iran, falls beyond the scope of the present article and will be dealt with in a research embodying the entire illustrations of the Samak-e ‘Ayyar manuscript.

As in many other manuscripts, the illustrations of this only known copy of Samak-e ‘Ayyar are more or less damaged and one or more fanatic individuals have obliterated a number of the faces, which fortunately has not diminished their documentary value.

The painting that led us to this research was one of these damaged images, in which the visages of Samak-e ‘Ayyar (‘Alamafrooz) and Roozafzoon have been obliterated. Samak is depicted unveiling an ancient corpse and saluting it, “thinking that he had died that very hour.”11 On the one hand, the corpse appears mummified and, on the other, an ancient corpse that appears to have died within the hour can only be a mummy. _

One may believe that this part of the story has Egyptian origins, and that the Treasure House of Samak-e ‘Ayyar’s story is perhaps how the author imagined pharaonic mausoleums. This is mainly due to the fact that, in Iran, the dead were never mummified, even before the advent of Islam. Yet the term mumia’i is recorded as a word with Persian origins12, and Herodotus has mentioned that the Iranians embalmed their dead with wax [moom] before burying them.13

Nasser-Khosrow, who was in Egypt in 441 A.H. writes: “The Sultan had a servant … this servant was the prince of the Mutayeban, and very great, powerful and rich.”

“The Mutayeban are those who seek out buried treasures in mausoleums across Egypt. People come from the entire Maghrib and from Egypt and Syria, all taking great pains and spending great sums amid those Egyptian mausoleums and sculptures. Many are those who have found buried treasures … for they say that pharaohs’ riches were buried on these sites. And whenever someone finds something there, he hands over one fifth of it to the Sultan and the rest is his.”14

The name of Qebt-e Pari, one of the story’s evil characters, also draws the reader’s attention towards Egypt, because the Egyptian Christians are called Qebti [Coptic]. Of course, Qebt-e Pari is not Christian, because the venerable Yazdanparast helps Samak defeat the paris (fairies).

Assuming that the Treasure House is related to ancient Egypt and that Qebt-e Pari is a symbol of its people, the location of the City of the Eagle, the role of Maran in the story, the black crow’s skin of Qebt-e Pari, the personality of Yazdanparast, the role of fairies and witches, the treasure inside the cow’s belly in the realm of darkness, and many other points, take on clear significations. Perhaps even an explanation concerning the “Mighty

as an Elephant Jackal” title of Samak’s tutor can be suggested.

Before examining these points one by one, we remind the reader that the Iranians’ first wide-ranging contact with the Egyptians and their civilization dates back to Egypt’s invasion by Cambyses in 526 B.C. Cambyses is said to have behaved dishonorably in Egypt, wounding the sacred bull Apis and having the mummified corpse of the ancient Egyptian king, Amasis, burned.

The independent 28th through 30th dynasties ruled over Egypt from 404 B.C. to 344 B.C. when Artaxerxes III (Okhos) once again invaded Egypt.15

Okhos behaved even worse than Cambyses, as attested to by far more substantial evidence than rumors. “Egyptian farmers likened Okhos to a donkey and referred to him as such, because this animal represented the essence of evil in their mind. Immediately upon entering Memphis, Ochos orders a donkey installed in the temple following the ritual specific to deities; he then has the bull Apis slain and in a feast … eats it. … His minister, Bagoas, loots all the temples and has their treasures, together with sacred books, sent to Iran.”16

“His satrap, who dwelled in the White Wall, in the pharaohs’ ancient palace, was supported by an army of one hundred and twenty thousand men established in three camps.”17

Although it has been said that the Achaemenian army consisted mostly of non-Iranian mercenaries, if we assume that only 10,000 of them were Iranians, and that only 2,000 of these returned to Iran, this number is enough for them to have transferred what they had seen and heard in this wondrous land. Moreover, certainly a number of Iranians were also at the satrap’s service at the time, and Iranian merchants also traveled to this rich country, where sophisticated arts and crafts existed.

Iranians living in Egypt in ancient times belonged to different social groups and most of them probably only saw, and were fascinated by, the appearances of Egyptian culture and civilization. This may explain Egypt’s transformation into a land of fairies and witches in the Iranians’ collective memory.

The Storyline until the Arrival to the Treasure House

Khorshid Shah has gone to welcome his father, Marzban Shah, on his way back home. Samak and Roozafzoon (a female fellow brigand) have gone to the Island of Fire to lure back the witch Sayhaneh. Spies alert the enemy, whose troops launch a surprise raid on the camp and abduct Abandokht (Khorshid Shah’s consort) and her baby (Farrokhrooz). The enemy’s minister devises a plot to have Abandokht sent to Goor-Khan (the king of the City of the Eagle, which borders India and Machin [trans-China]), requesting his assistance in defeating Khorshid Shah. After several events, Samak and Roozafzoon rescue Abandokht and Farrokhrooz and attempt to escape through a hidden subterranean passage. In the dark, Roozafzoon, who is holding Farrokhrooz in her arms, falls in a well. This well leads to the Treasure House, “said to have been left behind from the time of Kiumars” and “now transformed into a graveyard.” An old shepherd by the name of Bastookh is in charge of this treasure and he has inherited this charge from his forefathers. “No one comes here except every year on the day of Nowrooz, when King Goor-Khan sits in New Year audience, and whatever New Year presents are brought in, they bring here by night.” 18

As noted in our preliminary, and also in the case of Samak-e ‘Ayyar, the streams of memories of historic events from different eras have merged to give birth to a river of legends. In other words, this story embraces different layers, some of which are rooted in the collective memory, left over from close and remote pasts, while others belong to the narrator’s present time.

In this part of the story, although the Treasure House occurs accidentally on the way, during the escape through the subterranean passage of Goor-Khan’s palace, it is reminiscent of the Motayeban’s treasure-hunting mentioned in Nasser-Khosrow’s travel account. This may have happened either during the author’s lifetime or a little earlier.

The treasurer Bastookh who has never seen the inside of the Treasure House yet, like his father and forefathers, considers himself the “custodian” of a treasure said to have remained from “the time of Kiumars.” He symbolizes the poor, kind-hearted, hospitable Iranian people, who uphold their ancient traditions even though their country has fallen under the rule of foreigners. He says that this treasure “has now been handed over to Goor-Khan,” meaning

that it is not his and that he is indeed unworthy of it.

The Goor-Khanids ruled from 1148 A.D. to 1215 A.D. over part of Turkmenistan, present-day Afghanistan and part of India. We saw that Goor-Khan was the king of the City of the Eagle, which borders India and Machin. In Samak’s story, Goor-Khan symbolizes the Turks ruling over Iran, although the author’s description of the City of the Eagle is inspired from the Iranians’ collective memory of Egypt. On the one hand, the adoption of the combination of the words Goor-Khan (a jumbled form of Khan-e Goor [Lord of the Tomb]) may be a witticism on the author’s part. He has also satirically pointed out, in his description of the New Year festivities, that they hold a Nowrooz audience because it benefits them, since “whatever New Year presents are brought in, they bring here [the Treasure House] by night [secretly].” In other terms, the people are to bring “Nowroozi” presents to Goor-Khan every New Year, which he nightly, unseen by them, transfers to the Treasure House!

Fighting the Fairies
“Bastookh said get up and let us go to my wife… So the two of them got under way, eventually reaching a mountain and a valley near it… Plentiful water flowed out of that valley to the mountain’s foothills. Bastookh said O girl, beware of touching or drinking this water for it will kill you. Roozafzoon said why is that so? Bastookh said I have heard that a great king had his abode here and that a war occurred between him and the paris. They were no match for the paris. They poisoned this water, sealed it with a spell, and were gone. When the paris came back, they drank of this water, and a number of them died. No one now drinks of this water.”19

The Achaemenian king was known as the Great King among the Greeks. After Darius made up for Cambyses’ misdeeds in Egypt and regained the Egyptians’ heart, the Iranians looked upon this land as their own. Perhaps “a war occurred between them and the paris” referred to the independent 28th through 30th Egyptian dynasties in the Iranians’ collective memory. Perhaps the poisoning of the water and the ensuing death of a number of the paris symbolized the Egyptians’ severe repression under Okhos (Artaxerxes III) and the advent of the 31st Persian dynasty. Although the Great King ordered the water to be poisoned for the paris, “no one now drinks of this water” because not only Alexander the Macedonian snatched away Egypt from the Iranians, but he also put an end to the Achaemenian Empire.

The Treasure House and the Way Out
Samak (‘Alamafrooz) returns to the City of the Eagle. He once again makes it to the hidden passage of Goor-Khan’s residence, finds the well in which Roozafzoon and Farrokhrooz have fallen, and moves back outside. Roozafzoon tells Samak about the Treasure House. Samak goes to see it. Only Goor-Khan has the key to the Treasure House. Samak breaks the lock open with the knife he carries as a brigand. The description of the interior of the Treasure House is similar to that of houses in Oriental stories, except that “he saw a bed with someone lying on it covered by a veil… He drew the veil off that person. He saluted him, thinking that he had died that very hour. He looked in front of him. He saw a deerskin scroll. He took it up. Something was written on it.”20 Although Samak is familiar with different languages and scripts, he reads the scroll with some difficulty, and learns that the corpse died “three thousand and seven hundred” years earlier. He hands over his treasure to Farrokhrooz, who “is descended from King Fereydoon” and who “has reached the age of two upon acceding to this position.”21 Farrokhrooz was then brought in the presence of that man. And the veil was taken off him. Farrokhrooz was told to kiss the man’s face.”22

Samak and his companions realize that only Farrokhrooz can take the treasure out of the Treasure House, and the three thousand year-old corpse has indicated the way out to Samak.23

Salmoon the Sage is an erstwhile student of Plato living in the court of Shah Jipal, in the Indian city of Qaf. He has seen in his calculations of the planets’ orbits that the treasure left behind by Siamak in the City of the Eagle will be opened up by one of Fereydoon’s descendants, who is the grandson of the same Marzbanshah who has now been captured.24

Samak tries to find the seaward access to the Treasure House by a star he has marked above its location near the sea. He is unsuccessful.25 He then tries to reach the underground quay of the Treasure House. Again he fails. The ship is drawn into a whirlpool and Samak jumps overboard.26

Samak’s adventures on this sea voyage, including his airborne trip while hanging to a huge bird or his capture by the Davalpa’is, resemble those of Sindbad the Sailor.

Eventually the bird carries Samak to a verdant island, where he finds a monastery made of tree branches. A four hundred year-old man by the name of Yazdanparast is a worshipper in this monastery.

Upon learning of Samak’s efforts to find the way of taking the ancient treasure out, Yazdanparast asks him to bring him a green page of writing lying in a corner of the monastery. Samak is unable to read the writing. Yazdanparast reads it: the page is addressed from Siamak to Farrokhrooz and it reemphasizes that the treasure has been left for him. It also indicates the way out, through “a fountain which the paris have poisoned.” On the right hand side of the fountain there is a large stone that must be removed to reveal a hole out of which the fountain’s water flows for an hour until it is emptied. An iron door appears that leads to the City of the Eagle.”

Having found the page in that same island, Yazdanparast reads it, but fails to realize its meaning before hearing Samak mention the City of the Eagle. Someone interested in the treasure must have written down this page to leave a record.27

After a few more adventures, and the help of the Homamorgh, which the old man says is a Simorgh, Samak returns and they take the treasure out via the City of the Eagle, over which Goor-Khan no longer reigns.

A most striking point is that, as we saw above, the fountain was poisoned by order of the Great King, whereas the writing on Siamak’s page mentions “a fountain which the paris have poisoned.” The paris are innocent in the first version and guilty in the second! Undoubtedly, these two versions pertain to different layers of collective memory.

The ancient corpse and the Treasure House can also be pale remnants of the cremation of Amasis’ mummy and the looting of his mausoleum, which is attributed to Cambyses. This memory has become inverted in the course of time. An insult to a corpse has turned into reverence and fondness: Samak salutes the corpse, and has the two year-old Farrokhrooz kiss it! And no pharaoh whose riches may be looted is involved. In his stele, Siamak says, “I was king and I gathered this treasure and left it for eternity.”28 Only the Siamak of Iranian mythology, descended from Kiumars, the son of Mashi and Mashianeh and the father of Hooshang29, is killed during his father’s reign by the div’s son.30

Another layer of this adventure reveals itself in the words of Salmoon the Sage, “an erstwhile student of Plato.” The Egyptians considered Alexander and the Greeks as their liberators from Persian hegemony. Therefore, when a disciple of Plato says to have “seen in his calculations of the planets’ orbits that the treasure left behind by Siamak in the City of the Eagle will be opened up by one of Fereydoon’s descendants,” no doubt remains that the Greeks also admit that the treasure belonged to the Iranians and that they had only taken away what belonged to them.

Farrokhrooz comes into possession of another treasure in the reconstituted Turkish translation of the story of Samak-e ‘Ayyar, which can also be a remnant of the collective memory of Achaemenian times. This treasure is found on an island probably located on the eastern African coast, near present-day Sudan or Ethiopia, as the geographic and demographic features described in the story seem to indicate. This layer has become intermingled with another layer of collective memory connected to the period when Muslims captured and traded in slaves in Zanzibar. The place is called “Simabiyeh,” because its king’s name is “Simab.” Borhan-e Qate‘records that “gutless, heartless, fearing, valuable and fearsome individuals are called simab-del.”31 Farrokhrooz and Samak “saw the town’s people [to be] tall and dark-featured.”32 In brief, the story goes:

‘Alamafrooz (Samak) rescues Farrokhrooz from Tooti Shah’s prison and escapes by way of sea. A storm breaks out and throws their boat on an island on which there is a pavilion in which, behind several curtains, someone is lying on a bed with a scroll addressed to Farrokhrooz before him. The corpse is that of “Tahmuras-e Div-band,” who has also left his treasure for Farrokhrooz and recommended him to wear only a gem-studded belt the first time he comes alone, but to take up his entire “treasure, crown and blade” the second time he comes with [his] army. Farrokhrooz picks up the belt, “kisses the man’s face,” and they leave the island. For three days they are lost at sea, then a storm breaks out and smashes their ship, leaving them hanging to a rock. Five more days and nights the wind carries them away, until on the sixth day a large city, which is none but Simabiyeh, comes into sight. Simab Shah receives them warmly and gives them a red wine that is not like usual yellow wines and even a small amount of it is inebriating. Simab Shah tells them that a garden existed there that, when dug, revealed a cellar with four hundred jars of wine all “bearing the seal of Tahmuras.” Some time later, while assisting Simab Shah in his war against Jam Shah’s paladins, Farrokhrooz, in reply to the cheap presents Jam Shah sends to lure him to his side, sends him Tahmuras-e Div-band’s belt and distributes Jam Shah’s presents among his servants.33

The discovery of four hundred jars of wine bearing Tahmuras’ seal in Simabiyeh indicates that this place and its “tall and dark-featured” people once were part of Tahmuras’ dominion, i.e., belonged to the Iranians.

The story of Samak is silent on Farrokhrooz and his troops returning to the island and seizing Tahmuras-e Div-band’s treasure. This may be one of the story’s lost pieces or a remnant of the memory of Cambyses’ unsuccessful invasion of Napata and Ethiopia and his disdainful reception of the five hundred minae gift sent by Archesilas, the king of Cyrenaica, which he distributed among his troops.

Not only does the narrator make no mention of a dead person or of Tahmuras-e Div-band’s corpse, but Farrokhrooz “kisses the man’s face” before leaving, which attests to its being mummified.

Farrokhrooz tells the pari Titoon that, on her way back, in Khorshid Shah’s company, from Shah Shamshakh’s court in Shais ebn-e Adam’s city, she found a treasure belonging to Kiumars [that amounted to] “forty Khosrovani Khanbs, all in jewels,” adding, “we brought it all back. We spent a lot [of it] and a great amount still remains.” No trace of this discovered treasure appears in what remains of Samak-e ‘Ayyar’s story and it must belong to the lost parts of the book.

Another treasure discovery exists in this story in relation with the paris that does not appear to be related to the collective memory remaining from the Achaemenian period, and to which we shall return in relation to Qebt-e Pari.

Borhan-e Qate‘ reads: “Qebt … refers to the Egyptians in the Hebrew language and the term’s singular form is Qebti.” Quoting the Encyclopedia of Islam in his footnote on this word, Mohammad Mo‘in comments: “Copte (Fr.) … This word is now believed to be a distortion of Aiguptios (Egypt).” 34 In fact, the Muslims’ rule over Egypt, which began in 641 A.D. was followed by the settlement of a number of Arabs in this land. Initially, the Muslim Arabs referred to its inhabitants as Qebti. However, once the majority of the indigenous population embraced Islam, the term Qebti began designating the heretics who still believed in ancient Egyptian deities. And when no heretic remained in Egypt, the Christian Egyptians, who had embraced this faith near the end of the first century A.D. and were in majority when Islam reached this land, came to be called Qebti.” 35

In Samak-e ‘Ayyar’s story, Qebt-e Pari is the queen of the paris, who is inimical to humans, who abducts and enthralls them.

The story of Samak-e ‘Ayyar is said to have originally involved several figures named Yazdanparast, but only two of them come to our attention in the pages that have reached us: the Yazdanparast who helps Samak find the way out of Siamak’s Treasure House through the City of the Eagle, and the Yazdanparast who teaches Samak how to overcome Qebt-e Pari. Samak calls upon the latter and says that other Yazdanparasts have given him keepsakes which he has taken to Khorshid Shah. “‘Alamafrooz spoke about those Yazdanparasts.” 36

In Samak-e ‘Ayyar’s story, Yazdanparasts are three- or four-hundred year-old men who worship in isolation in a secluded monastery. They know the magic properties of plants and feed on unknown nutritious fruit. They know a language and a script which others do not. When necessary, they assist men by showing them how to escape the paris’ spells. In fact, the Yazdanparasts and the paris are opposite poles.

In the Iranians’ collective memory, including that of the author of Samak-e ‘Ayyar, these Yazdanparasts can be recollections of the isolated monks of the early Christian era in Egypt.

The Christian monks’ isolation in Egypt came about “in the wake of the events of 250 A.D. when Paul, an inhabitant of Thebes, facing the danger of being exposed as a Christian, goes to the desert to find shelter and devote himself entirely to God.” 37 The exactions committed later on against the Christians, which began growing in 284 A.D. and lasted until 311 A.D. caused a number of them to seek refuge in the desert, turn to worship and temperance, and willingly live in seclusion.38 When the situation returned to normal, some of them preferred to remain in the wilderness and devote themselves to religious meditation, emulating such models as Khezr Peace Be Upon Him, Elias [PBUH] and the Christ.39 It is perhaps in recollection of this memory that, in the story of Samak-e ‘Ayyar, upon Yazdanparast’s death, faced with Farrokhrooz’s “supplications and lamentations,” God “ordered Khezr [PBUH] and Elias [PBUH] to cross that fence” and release Farrokhrooz and ‘Alamafrooz from Qebt-e Pari’s captivity.40

The Coptic language, as it has been preserved in the liturgy of Christian Egyptians, “is the inheritor of the pharaonic Egyptian language.” 41 “It remains essentially and mostly made up of words and expressions of pharaonic origins, which continue to form the language’s backdrop.” 42 Perhaps this is why Yazdanparast is able to read the tablet showing the way out of the Treasure House. Interestingly, until the time when the story of Samak-e ‘Ayyar is written, that is the sixth or seventh century A.H. the term Coptic referred to the followers of the pharaonic cult rather than to Christian Egyptians. In the Iranians’ collective memory, the conflict between Yazdanparast and the paris is a remnant of the memory of the downfall of the ancient cult and the rise and expansion of the new in the land of the pharaohs.

The beginning of the divs’ and paris’, particularly Qebt-e Pari’s, animosity against Khorshid Shah and his son, Farrokhrooz, falls in the lost pages of Samak-e ‘Ayyar. Yet, here and there, the words exchanged between the story’s protagonists seem to indicate that this enmity is deeply rooted. Apparently, Khorshid Shah, assisted by Samak, had undone ten of the div Esfid’s talismans “and rescued Farrokhrooz along with a few women from captivity on Mount Jahanbin.”43 And Qebt-e Pari reminds Samak that he has imprisoned his relatives, the plebeian div Kusal and his offspring, who have died in captivity, and adds, “What business can men have with paris?”44

If we admit that the author of Samak’s adventures was in the least inclined toward Egypt while writing the adventures connected with Qebt-e Pari, we find signs in them whose memories may be remnants of this country’s ten-year-long occupation by the Sasanians in the Iranians’ collective memory.

After reviving the boundaries of the Achaemenian Empire, in 619 A.D. fulfilling one of their long-lasting desires, the Sasanians occupied Egypt under Khosrow II. The Iranians ruled over Egypt until 629 A.D. Their rule was initially harsh and bloody, but later tended towards moderation and tolerance.45

Back to the Story of Samak-e ‘Ayyar
The events of this section occur in a country within the paris’ territory. Qebt-e Pari has abducted Farrokhrooz’s warrior wife, Mardandokht. Samak is searching for her. Qebt-e Pari has spellbound the pagans and paris opposed to her and transformed them into talking jackals and zebras. Two birds “resembling peacocks, with a spread plumage of a hundred thousand colors and with claws and beaks, but with faces like men’s” tell Samak, “During the week we were here and we saw Qebt-e Pari carrying away someone in fetters … to her abode, Parishahr, near Mount Qaf.”46 The talking birds with human faces are neither pagans nor paris. They are called “Man-loving Birds.” These birds must be related to Persian/Indian fables.

Samak asks the Malek-ot-Toyoor [King of Birds] to help him. “That bird said I can do nothing about Qebt-e Pari.” Farrokhrooz goes to see the zebras. He too comes under the spell of Qebt-e Pari, who is wearing her black crow’s skin. One night in a clearing in the paris’ territory, Samak sees a light “joined to the sky … he tells himself that it appears to be Yazdanparast’s sign.” He calls on Yazdanparast to help him liberate Mardandokht and Farrokhrooz. “The old one tells him that there is nothing he can do about Qebt-e Pari.” Eventually, faced with Samak’s insistence, he says that Samak should go to the fountain and hide there waiting for Qebt-e Pari to arrive for her bath, at which time he should snatch her clothes away and burn them to ashes. “Then tie a string around Qebt-e Pari’s neck and bring her to me,” so that I may free them from their bonds. However, Qebt-e Pari finds Samak and imprisons him in the same dungeon as Farrokhrooz. Roozafzoon comes to Yazdanparast’s “monastery” and, relating the events, asks him for a solution. Yazdanparast tells her that he knows no means of rescuing Farrokhrooz and Samak, but that “last night Soroosh appeared to me” and showed me the way of setting Mardandokht free. Yazdanparast recites a spell and blows on Roozafzoon, rendering her invisible to the paris. He also teaches her the way of breaking the spells on her way to Parishahr. One is an old man “wearing an Egyptian daq and bearing a scarf on his head,” whom Roozafzoon is to hit on the head with the stick Yazdanparast gives her. Roozafzoon reaches Parishahr and, with the help of human beings whom Qebt-e Pari and her daughter have transformed into horses and birds, she kills Qebt-e Pari’s daughter. Qebt-e Pari pursues them as far as Yazdanparast’s monastery. A voice comes from the monastery that warns, “Return otherwise I shall burn you.” Frightened, Qebt-e Pari turns back. Roozafzoon abducts Shams Pari, Qebt-e Pari’s minister, and takes her to Yazdanparast’s monastery. Following Yazdanparast’s instructions, Shams Pari returns to Qebt-e Pari’s court. She then breaks the spell holding Mardandokht prisoner in Parishahr and takes back two cases containing the clothes and jewels of Qebt-e Pari’s daughter to Khorshid Shah, as a present for Farrokhrooz’s wife. Having dreamt that his death has come, Yazdanparast asks the men liberated from Qebt-e Paris’ bonds to bury him in the same monastery. Mardandokht goes to war against Khorshid Shah’s enemies.47

As we saw above, Farrokhrooz and Samak escape Qebt-e Pari’s dungeon with the help of the prophets Khezr [PBUH] and Elias [PBUH]. On the instigation of Baktash, a member of her entourage, Qebt-e Pari throws Shams Pari in prison for having spied for human beings and promises a ministry to Baktash in exchange for his capture of Farrokhrooz. Baktash seizes Farrokhrooz and Roozafzoon, together with their belongings, and imprisons them in another dungeon.48

After many adventures, both Baktash and Shams Pari vow allegiance to Khorshid Shah.49

It becomes known that Qebt-e Pari has taken the spell binding Farrokhrooz to Zolamat [The Kingdom of Darkness]. Baktash says, “Kings have built a subterranean cache and the treasure of the paris’ queen is there and it is called Zolamat.” A bull stands in Zolamat that must be slain and its entrails emptied for Farrokhrooz’s fetters to come undone.50

Is Baktash the pari’s description of Zolamat not a fabulous one of Egyptian pharaohs’ mausoleums?

Samak sets out, accompanied by Shams Pari, Baktash and her sons, to find a way to release Farrokhrooz. One of Baktash’s sons attempts to enter the dungeon by air; he catches fire and burns. Samak tries to secure the help of Qebt-e Pari’s enemies so that “they can match her evil.” These enemies, whom Qebt-e Pari has imprisoned, form two groups: the pari zebras, who are the subjects of Titoon, and the pagan jackals, who are the subjects of Tahnoon.

Qebt-e Pari’s nanny, who resembles a huge tiger, and the nanny’s daughter, who looks like a wolf, are the holders of their destiny: if the tiger and the wolf are killed, the prisoners will recover their freedom. They are joined by Mardandokht and another paladin by the name of ‘Alqoom. One slays the tiger and the other the wolf. Titoon and Tahnoon agree to raise their troops against Qebt- Pari.51 Equipped with a lamp given by Shams Pari, Samak and his companions enter Zolamat. Mardandokht and ‘Alqoom each throw an arrow at the bull, while Samak tears its side open with his dagger. Shams, Baktash and her son enter Zolamat. “Shams thrust her arm into the bull’s belly and brought that case out, whereupon the bull vanished.” Mardandokht wants a token of their passage in Zolamat. Shams, Baktash and her son “all three went into Zolamat … brought back three cases … Shams said there are so many goods in this Zolamat that [the like] cannot be found in the entire world.” Qebt-e Pari has sealed the cases. They all go to the paris’ fountain. Qebt arrives. Shams and Baktash carry the cases away. Samak and his companions capture Qebt, who has now abandoned her black crow’s skin. Shams burns down Qebt’s plumage. The paris accept Titoon as their monarch. Qebt admonishes Titoon: “If you want the kingdom to remain yours … eliminate Tahnoon … break up with Shams and Baktash … pledge to men and make them pledge to you that enmity never arises between you and that you do not harm each other … Do not give them these cases they have brought from the treasure, for they do not appreciate it.” Qebt dies. The paris fight between themselves for three days. Tahnoon, Shams and Baktash have been killed during the fights. Farrokhrooz is set free and he and Titoon vow that men and paris will never again harm each other. From the three cases, Titoon gives Farrokhrooz only a token of two gowhar-e shab-cheraghs.52

It is unlikely that the name of Qebt-e Pari was adopted accidentally, without any relationship to Egypt, by its author.

Although archaeologists have unearthed many treasures in mausoleums across the world, the description of Zolamat corresponds most closely to that of pharaonic mausoleums. As attested to by investigations carried out by historians of Coptic Christianity, the existence of a Yazdanparast worshipping in a “monastery” may be a remnant in the collective memory of the life led by Christian Egyptian monks. If we admit these two premises, it may perhaps be said that the latter part of Samak’s story embodies the memories that have remained in the collective memory from the Sasanians’ ten-year occupation of Egypt.

As we saw above, the Sasanians’ rule over Egypt “was initially harsh and bloody, but later tended towards moderation and tolerance.” The fabulous manifestation of this historic reality appears in Qebt-e Pari’s vindictive actions against Farrokhrooz and her entourage. And Qebt-e Pari’s advice to Titoon on vowing with Farrokhrooz that “men and paris do not harm each other” belongs to the period of “moderation and tolerance.”

Another point is that the benefits accruing from the Sasanians’ occupation of Egypt are not comparable to those gained in the Achaemenian period, when Egypt was a Persian satrapy. Thus, in the fable, the memory of the Achaemenians’ exploitation of Egypt manifests itself as the discovery of treasures left behind by Siamak and Tahmuras. Farrokhrooz is fully entitled to take and spend this treasure, whereas, in the memory remaining from the Sasanians’ time, the treasure of Zolamat belongs to the paris and Farrokhrooz is given only two gowhar-e shab-cheraghs, one of which he gives to Samak, following his wife Golbooy’s advice, for him to spend on his brigandage or use to deceive a foe.53

The “Mighty as an Elephant Jackal”
In Samak-e ‘Ayyar’s story, the “Mighty as an Elephant Jackal” is Samak’s teacher, who was the city’s Esfahsalar [Military Commander in Chief] under Khorshid Shah’s father, Marzban Shah, and he is respected by all until the end of the story. The combination of “jackal” and “mighty as an elephant” sounds bizarre in present-day Persian, and no other example of this kind is found in ancient Persian literature. We have not yet come across any written explanation of this appellation. Bahram Bayza’i says that this brigand teacher may have been known as such because the brigands wore a foxtail on their caps. Perhaps this title-like appellation comes from ancient times, when the Persian soldiers of the Achaemenian army serving in Egypt saw representations of Anubis, the fox-headed Egyptian god, and interpreted them according to their own tastes. In all known representations of Anubis, he has the head of a fox and the body of a physically powerful man, and he

is solemnly ushering people towards eternal life.54

In the Coptic Museum in Old Cairo, there is an icon on which, doubtlessly under the inspiration of Egyptian deities, two Christian saints are represented with heads of jackals.55

The City of the Eagle, the Crow’s Skin and the Bull of Zolamat
The falcon is the symbol of the Egyptian god Horus. In connection with the assumptions put forth above, perhaps the appellation of the City of the Eagle, within the boundaries of which the treasure of Siamak is located, was inspired by Horus’ symbol. Qebt-e Pari, the uncompromising ruler of Parishahr and the resolute enemy of men, wears a black crow’s skin. The crow is also the appellation of the first stage of initiation to the cult of Mehr, but it is improbable that the adoption of a black crow’s skin for one of the story of Samak-e ‘Ayyar’s most unpleasant characters was related to the cult of Mehr. It appears more rational that, in the story, the symbol of pharaonic Egypt was deprecatingly changed from a falcon to a black crow. The most prominent memory remaining from the cult of Mehr, in this part of Samak-e ‘Ayyar’s story, is the moment when Samak tears the bull’s side open in Zolamat. This scene recalls images of Mehr slaying a bull, which was the central subject in most subterranean temples. The remote memory of the rumor of Cambyses’ wounding the sacred bull Apis and the memory of another Apis bull being eaten by Okhos and his company in Egypt may also have become confused in the collective memory with Mehr’s bull-slaying, and these layers are difficult to distinguish with any degree of certainty.•
Images Courtesy of Bodleian Library, Oxford

Farairan Art Quarterly,No. 10, Winter 2001
1 Herodotus, Histories, Book II, ch. 35.

2 Samak-e ‘Ayyar, preface and emendation by Parviz Natel Khanlari, vol. 1, p. 5.

3 Ibid., vol. 3, p. 179.

4 Ibid., vol. 3, pp. 179 & 180.

5 Ibid., vol. 3, p. 184.

6 Ahmad Hami asserts, in Bagh-e Mehr, that this name was originally Samak-e Aiiar, a Persian word related to the cult of Mehr.

7 Parviz Natel Khanlari, ibid., vol. 1, p. 6.

8 Ibid., vol. 1, p. 7.

9 Parviz Natel Khanlari, Shahr-e Samak, p. 5.

10 Benefiting from a research scholarship from the Barakat Trust, the author spent a month examining these illustrations at the Bodleian Library, Oxford.

11 Samak-e ‘Ayyar, preface and emendation by Parviz Natel Khanlari, vol. 3, p. 34.

12 Christine El Mahdy, Momies mythe et magie, p. 10.

13 Hérodote, Histoires, livre 1, p. 140.
14 Nasser ebn-e Khosrow Qobadiani, Safarname-ye Nasser Khosrow, pp. 76 & 77.
15 Concerning the events in Egypt in the Achaemenian period, see Hassan
Pirnian & ‘Abbas Eqbal Ashtiani, Tarikh-e Iran, pp. 73-75, 81 & 107.

16 G. Maspero, Histoire ancienne des peuples de l’Orient classique: les Empires, p. 773, quoting Suidas..

17 Ibid., p. 711.

18 For details on this section, see Samak-e ‘Ayyar, preface and emendation by Parviz Natel Khanlari, vol. 2, pp. 276-429 & 435-438.

19 Ibid., pp. 438 & 439.

20 Ibid., vol. 3, p. 34.

21 Ibid. p. 35.

22 Ibid., p. 54.

23 Ibid., pp. 55 & 56.

24 Ibid., p. 99.

25 Ibid., pp. 61-63.

26 Ibid., pp. 69, 105 & 106.

27 Ibid., pp. 108-110.

28 Ibid., p. 109.

29 Arthur Christensen, First Man and First King, p. 97, and the other pagers mentioned in the guide list on page 541.

30 Ferdowsi, Shahnameh, Science Academy of the Soviet Union, vol. 1, pp. 29 & 30.

31 Borhan-e Qate‘, Discourse 13, Passage 24, p. 1210.

32 Ibid., vol. 3, p. 366.

33 Ibid., pp. 363-370 & 379.

34 Borhan-e Qate‘, Discourse 20, Passage 2, p. 1518.

35 Pierre du Bourguet, Les Coptes, pp. 7 & 8.

36 Samak-e ‘Ayyar, preface and emendation by Parviz Natel Khanlari, vol. 5, p. 29.

37 Pierre du Bourguet, ibid., p. 15.

38 Ibid., p. 16, not literal.

39 Christine Cannuyer, Les Coptes, p. 20.

40 Samak-e ‘Ayyar, preface and emendation by Parviz Natel Khanlari, vol. 5, p. 66.

41 Christine Cannuyer, ibid., p. 11.

42 Pierre du Bourguet, ibid., p. 28.

43 Samak-e ‘Ayyar, preface and emendation by Parviz Natel Khanlari, vol. 4, p. 431, & vol. 5, p. 45.

44 Ibid., vol. 5, p. 32.

45 Pierre du Bourguet, ibid., p. 19; Christine Cannuyer, ibid., p. 36.

46 Samak-e ‘Ayyar, preface and emendation by Parviz Natel Khanlari, vol. 4, pp. 436-442.

47 Ibid., vol. 5, pp. 18-61.

48 Ibid., vol. 5, pp. 66-70.

49 Ibid., vol. 5, pp. 84-99.

51 Ibid., vol. 5, pp. 112, 113 & 129-132.

52 Ibid., vol. 5, pp. 141-152.

53 Ibid., vol. 5, p. 396.

54 Kazimierz Michalowski, L’art de l’ancienne Egypte, p. 103 n 42, p. 105 n 48, p. 268 n 117, p. 334 n 137, p. 349 n 142, p. 428 n 686, p. 436 n 745, 746, 747, 748, 752. 2e ed. p. 293 n 169, p. 294 n 170.

55 Christine Cannuyer, ibid., fig. 6.

Persian Sources
Borhan Mohammad-Hossein ebn-e Khalaf-e Tabrizi, Borhan-e Qate‘, compiled by Mohammad Mo‘in, Amir Kabir, Tehran 1376.

Pirnia, Hassan & Ashtiani, ‘Abbas, Tarikh-e Iran, Khayyam Bookstore, 6th printing, Tehran 1370.

Hami, Ahmad, Bagh-e Mehr, Davarpanah printing, Tehran 2535.

Faramarz ebn-e Khodadad ebn-e ‘Abdollah al-Kateb al-Arjani, Samak-e ‘Ayyar, manuscript, Ouseley, first volume 379, second volume 380 & third volume 381, Bodleian Library, Oxford.

Faramarz ebn-e Khodadad ebn-e ‘Abdollah al-Kateb al-Arjani, Samak-e ‘Ayyar, preface and emendation by Parviz Natel Khanlari, 5 vols., Agah

Publishers, 7th printing, Tehran 1369.

Ferdowsi, Abolqassem, Shahnameh, Science Academy of the Soviet Union, Department of Oriental Literature, offset in Tehran.

Natel Khanlari, Parviz, Shahr-e Samak, Agah Publishers, Tehran 1364.

Nasser ebn-e Khosrow Qobadiani, Safarname-ye Nasser Khosrow, compiled by Nader Vazinpoor, Pocket Books, 8th printing, Tehran 1370.

French Sources
Cannuyer, Christine, Les Coptes, Brepoles, imp. en Belgique 1990.

Du Bourguet, Pierre, Les Coptes, Que Sais-je?, P.U.F., Paris 1992.

El Mahdy, Christine, Momies mythe et magie, Casterman, Paris 1990.

Hérodote, Histoires, texte établi et traduit par Ph.-E. Legrand, Les Belles Lettres, Paris 1964.

G. Maspero, Histoire ancienne des peoples de l’Orient classique: Les Empires, Hachette, Paris 1899.

Michalowski, Kazimierz, L’art de l’ancienne Egypte, L. Mazenod, Paris 1968.

When the Islamic World Was Inspired by the West

By Holland Cotter

Published: March 28, 2008

Sometimes in the history of art everything seems to be happening everywhere, all at once. The 16th century was like that. It was a grand global burst of lights. The Ming dynasty in ; the Renaissance in Europe; Islamic empires in , were all burning at high incandescence. Visitors traveled from one to another, buying, selling, making plans, taking notes, amazed.

Then, as also happens, there were slowdowns; dimmings, even blackouts here and there. Such shifts in energy form the background to “Re-Orientations: Islamic Art and the West in the 18th and 19th Centuries,” a superb small scholarly show, one as revealing of the past as it is germane to the present, at the Bertha and Karl Leubsdorf Art Gallery at Hunter College.

The show is notable for several reasons. First, it tackles a little-studied subject. We’ve had major exhibitions on the influence of Islamic culture on . We’ve had relatively few that trace influence the other way, Occident to Orient. (“Royal Persian Painting: the Qajar Epoch, 1785-1925” at the Brooklyn Musem a decade ago was a stellar exception.)

Possibly because “Occidentalized” sounds unexotic, 18th- and 19th-century Islamic art has been largely ignored. Few of the 30 small decorative objects at Hunter have been exhibited before, though all are from the collection of a major museum.

Which brings us to another — some might say the primary — attraction of the show. The owning institution is the , where the Islamic galleries are closed for renovation. This Hunter show, unassuming as it is, is by default the largest display of the Met’s Islamic collection in the city.

“Re-Orientations” is actually the offshoot of a larger project: a yearlong seminar led by Ulku U. Bates, professor of Islamic art at Hunter, using material in the Met holdings to examine the early effects of Western modernism on Islamic cultures, its impact kicking in at different times in different places.

Western art styles were current in the Mughal court of India in the 16th century, through the circulation of European prints brought by Christian missionaries. Similar influences took root in . A late-17th-century lacquered pen box, the show’s earliest piece, is painted with Persian roses on the outside and a European-style landscape under the lid. And by this time Ottoman Turkey had also come under the aggressive spell of Western culture.

The Ottoman empire was a superpower, controlling world trade, claiming European land as its own, and as late as 1683, sending an army to the very gates of . , meanwhile, though nervous, was not passive. In the fields of science, economics and industry, it was surging ahead, becoming modern, while Islamic powers were falling behind.

Among other things, the ancient machinery of Islamic imperial government had become a lead weight. Secular and religious impulses were in stalemate. By comparison was light on its feet, adaptable to quick, opportunistic change. Gradually, through a combination of dazzle and muscle, it gained the upper hand, and then pressed down hard, and kept pressing down, with a demeaning colonial force that remains a bitter memory in the Islamic world.

On the positive side, though, there was the refreshment of aesthetic exchange. Europeans were hungry for Islamic objects and styles. Islamic cultures welcomed input from . The lure of exoticism pulled in both directions.

This is immediately evident in the adoption of oil painting, a European invention, by Islamic artists. Qajar court painters of made spectacular use of it in life-size royal portraits. The sloe-eyed, androgynous youth holding a wine glass in a painting in the show may or may not be royalty, but he is a fine example of a Qajar type.

Islamic artists borrowed themes and styles in addition to Western art mediums. The flowers and birds on a double-page 19th-century album cover from are Islamic in their patterning, European in their naturalism. A cobalt-blue cut-glass beaker was probably exported from Europe to , then customized on arrival with the addition of a calligraphic inscription in gold.

An elaborate Qajar miniature, one in quasi-Baroque style, of Abraham sacrificing Isaac would appear to be geared to a Western market, but not necessarily. This biblical episode depicted is also in the Koran. In a 19th-century Qajar album painting of two lovers in a landscape, the figure of the reclining woman, her body exposed, may well derive from a Western image — possibly photographic — of a Persian odalisque, here recast for Persian eyes. Orientalism meets Occidentalism, in twisty ways.

Most of the show is about exactly such blending. And even when the objects are less than spectacular — Hunter could borrow only modest items, nothing requiring special climate control or heavy insurance — they are rich with information. And it is information of continuing pertinence. The tensions that modernism produced in the Islamic world — between tradition and innovation, sacred and profane — have been pushed to the point of explosion by the aggressive marketing of Western values globally in the present. Seen in that perspective, every object in the show seems to tick with a volatile history.

The lineaments of that history are laid out in superb essays by Ms. Bates and Stefano Carboni, curator of Islamic art at the Met, in a catalog that makes a signal contribution to the field of Islamic studies and enhanced by contributions from the 15 students from Hunter College and the Graduate Center of the City University of New York who worked on the project.

Three of them — Mitra M. Abbaspour, Stéphanie Fabre and Karen Zonis — are doctoral candidates. I will be on the lookout for their names in future projects. If they take this quiet but intensely charged show as a template, and Ms. Bates as a scholarly model, they can only do brilliantly.

“Re-Orientations: Islamic Art and the West in the 18th and 19th Centuries” is at the Bertha and , and , through April 26. (212) 772-4991, hunter.cuny.edu.

Echoes from Paradise

Farairan Quarterly,No.7

Reza Moqtader

Each year the municipality of Paris, along with the Association for the Friends of the Bagatelle, holds an exhibition to present the relationship between man and his environment, especially his garden. This relationship takes on a various forms in different cultures, climates and artistic milieus. Among the successful exhibitions of previous years were “Gardens of the World”, “Gardens of Japan” and “Flowers and Gardens in Ottoman

Art”, as well as an exhibition of the works of Henry Moore.
This year was devoted to a journey to one of the most fertile sources in the history of gardens: the Persian garden. An exhibition entitled “Echoes of Paradise; Persian Gardens and their Influence” opened its doors to the public on March 29, 2001, thru July 1, 2001.

The exhibition was comprised of two distinct sections: The first took place at the “Trianon” building, and displayed objects and works related to gardens. Books, paintings, miniatures, etchings, tiles, textiles and other objects had been loaned by various French institutions: the Louvre Museum, the Guimet Museum, the Historic Textiles Museum of Lyon, the Paris Museum of Decorative Arts, the National Museum of Ceramics in Sèvres, the Municipal Library of Ville du Blanc, and private collections. Ms. Maguy Charritat and Ms. Christine Gayraud of the Islamic Section of the Louvre Museum supervised this section, and the interior design of the Trianon had been entrusted to Jacques Garcia. The entrance to the exhibition was framed by two tall cypresses set against bowls brimming with hyacinths.

The second part of this exhibition, held at the “Gallery” facing the Trianon, featured he history of the Persian garden, its qanat and irrigation systems, and its influences throughout history. These elements were shown in approximately sixty photographs of celebrated Iranian and Mughal gardens and descriptive plates of various phases of the Iranian garden. The photographic exhibition was organized by Mehdi Khonsari, Reza Moqtader and Minoush Yavari.

Some of the highlights of the first section were:

· The Chahar-baghi Carpet from Iran. Woven in the latter part of the 17th century and measuring 262 x 130 cm, this piece is one of the rarest and best known of the garden carpets preserved in modern museums. The design contains three axes, one spanning the length and two moving across the width of the carpet, dividing

it into ten karts, filled with tree, flower and bird motifs.

· Chahar-baghi Carpet, from Iran, 232 x 162 cm, with a crimson field and a navy border, covered with plant, bird and animal designs surrounding a pool in the center of the carpet.

· An illustrated copy of the Qor’an with Persian translation, dating from the 17th century (India). It refers to verse 45 of the Hajar Surah, where the Lord describes “the Paradise promised to devoted Muslims.”

· Plates from the 13th century made of silicate ceramic with various glazes.

· The miniature, The Prince Seated among his Courtiers in the Garden, dating from 13th century Fars.

· The famous painting Homay and Homayoun in a Garden from Herat. Executed in ink, gouache and gold on paper and dating to 1430.

· A number of precious miniatures from the Teymur and Mughal periods, showing the garden from the 15th to 18th centuries.

· Safavid textiles of silk, with gold and silver thread.

· Gol-o-Bolbol (flower and bird), Gol-o-Parvaneh (flower and butterfly) and Gol-o-Botteh (flower and shrub) paintings on wood, qalamdans, mirrors, book covers, qalians, etc.

In the second part of the exhibition, held in the gallery space, the history of Persian garden construction was traced through photographs. These were of the remains of the streams and stone pools of Pasargad (6th century AD), of carved images of palm trees, fir trees and flowers in the palaces of Persepolis, of Sassanid gardens, the tree of life at the Taq-e Bostan and of the renovation of the Khosrow mansion garden in Qasr-e Shirin. Also in this section were descriptions of the “invisible waters”, qanats and the spread of this Iranian system East to China, and West to Arabia, North Africa, Spain, and South America, accompanied by dates.

The images of extant gardens in Iran began with the Fin Garden in Kashan, followed by gardens in Esfahan, Shiraz, Yazd, Mahan, Damghan and the remains of the Safavid gardens of Ashraf and the Golestan Palace. Each section carried descriptions for non-Iranians unfamiliar with the structure of the Persian garden, and a smaller section described the Persian garden structures utilized in the palaces of Arab caliphs and Mughal gardens in India and Pakistan. At the end of the hall, set between two fir trees was a comparative study of Iranian gardens, each displaying imaginative art of Iranian landscape designers.

The majority of the photographs in this exhibition were by Mehdi Khonsari, and the exhibition catalogue had been published by L’Oeil magazine for the municipality of Paris.

Stemming from an ancient heritage, the Persian garden offers a terrestrial image of paradise to the sight of seventh century Arab conquerors. From Tamerlane to the Great Mughals, from the Safavids to the Qajars, this unceasingly reinvented model survives the vicissitudes of history in terms of its forms as well as its customs.

Before Islam
In Iran, the history of gardens begins at Pasargad, in mid-sixth century BC, in the palace of Cyrus, the founder of the Achaemenian dynasty. There, an architectural layout involving porticos overlooked long water alleys interrupted by square pools of carved stone. Cyrus’ successors and their satraps shared the same taste for regular gardens, planted with rows of trees and scented shrubs, which was to become a component of Persian culture.

The Greeks have referred to these gardens as paradeisos, an adaptation of the Persian word pairidaeza, which means “wall-enclosed area.” The ancient image in the Near East of an ideal garden, an abode for the Gods, gradually materializes in the royal gardens, terrestrial paradises that are to be echoes of the eternal garden. The vast parks were utilized mainly as hunting preserves in which pavilions were erected and the gardens were integrated into the architecture of palaces. These enclosements both shared the notion of protection against the exterior, as well as the presence of water—source of all life. Alleys and clumps of trees equally adorned the space with a symbolic aura. The idea of dividing a square or rectangular plot of land into four flower beds by means of two perpendicular axes, alleys or water channels is probably linked with the ancient belief that the universe is divided into four parts by four rivers. Thus, the principle of the chahar-bagh (Four Gardens), which later undergoes brilliant developments, manifests itself centuries before Islam.

Paradise in the Qor’an
The Holy Qor’an describes the abode promised to true believers as an enclosed garden planted with trees dispensing dense shade and delicious fruits, in which run “streams of incorruptible water, streams of a milk with unalterable taste, streams of delicious wine, streams of pure honey” (Holy Qor’an, XLVII, 15). Pomegranate, grapevine and date-bearing palm trees are repeatedly invoked. Naturally linked to the theme of the oasis, this image, this asylum filled with freshness and sensual pleasures in arid regions in which the Muslim culture develops, is materialized in Iran for the seventh century Arab conquerors.

The chahar-bagh principle allows numerous layouts. Sometimes limited to a simple planted courtyard, it may extend as far as desired by adding secondary alleys and water streams and adopting different designs. Its permanence in the course of centuries is attested to in miniature drawings and painting.

Timurid Gardens
The nomadic people who invade Iran successively, the Turks and the Mughals, adapt the model of the garden to the arrangement of the royal camp, a mobile palace as it were. Timur Lang “Tamerlane” (1370-14-5) and his descendants enlarge this camp, which is thereafter established by its designers and water-works “engineers”, from Central Asia to Afghanistan, following a precise plan: vast square or rectangular protected spaces, monumental porticos, sumptuous canopies set up in lush meadows, thrones installed on pedestals and carpets, make up an ideal environment for royal audiences, formal receptions and feasts… as well as a marvelous subject for painters. Some miniature paintings offer us a dazzling vision of an eternal spring, in which the trees and shrubs are literally covered with blossoms. Fruit trees and vine mingle with ornamental species, pine trees, cypresses, poplars, willow and plane trees, and with flowerbeds.

A garland of gardens with evocative names, which have, alas, disappeared, surrounds Samarqand: Ornament of the World, Garden of the Northern Wind, Garden of Paradise, of Bliss… Some were dedicated to women; others were created to commemorate a historic event.

The Gardens of the Great Mughals’
In 1526, now master of part of northern India, the emperor Babur founds the dynasty of the Great Mughals, the main Muslim empire on the subcontinent until the beginning of the 18th century. Born in Central Asia, Babur remains nostalgic of the gardens of Samarkand and Herat, and devotes efforts at introducing a new aesthetic order in this conquered territory. “Thus, in this India with no charm or regularity, ordered and symmetrical gardens appeared. At every corner, I made beautiful flower beds planted with roses and narcissuses, all in perfect alignment.”

Babur’s nomad ancestry and his unceasing military campaigns make him prefer the open spaces of strictly structured vast chahar-baghs to the confined atmosphere of palaces. As he had done in Kabul for the famous Garden of Fidelity, in India he channels water streams, sets up terraces, pools, fountains and shaded temporary halt areas, and plants fruit trees. In Agra, his first gardens line the Jamna, opposite the Fort of the Vanquished, a disposition that is later emulated in the interior architecture of palaces.

From Punjab to Kashmir to the Deccan, three main types of not entirely unrelated gardens flourish throughout the Mughal territory: vast suburban chahar-baghs, funerary gardens, that are often best preserved, and gardens inside forts and palaces. On carefully chosen sites, with the presence of water as a priority, exterior gardens were surrounded by tall walls that protected them from the invading jungle or from sand and dust. Laid out as far as possible to the image of the gardens of Shalimar in Lahore and in Srinagar, in a succession of terraces traversed by water streams cascading between the different levels, the Mughals’ chahar-baghs acquire pools, fountains and open pavilions, often located on a stone platform at the intersection of two perpendicular alleys.

“Tomb-Gardens”, i.e. imperial mausoleums, illustrate the grandiose funerary architecture of Mughal India. Of diverse styles,they are all integrated into enclosed chahar-baghs. They are set either at the center of the garden, as the emperor Homayun’s mausoleum in Delhi or Akbar’s in Sikandra, or at one of its extremities, as the Taj Mahal in Agra, the mausoleum of Shah Jahan (1628-1657) and his beloved wife Momtaz Mahall. In this case, the axial plan offers an elongated perspective between the entrance and the marble mausoleum standing on an elevated terrace strewn with minarets.

Architecture having penetrated the garden, the garden in turn makes its place at the heart of architecture. In Lahore, Delhi and Agra, flowers become predominant in the water and stone gardens of the zenanas (harems) and public spaces. In the chahar-baghs, alleys replace the bridges connecting the central platform to the sides. Shah Jahan’s builders of the Red Fort at Delhi display the ultimate development of this process. The entire palace is designed as a garden: high terraces lining the river, a lush chahar-bagh, and pavilions with columns shaped as cypress trees and walls encrusted with flowers of hard stone. The abode of the ideal sovereign, the palace garden has been qualified by a panegyrist as “The Spring of a garden flowered with justice and generosity.” At the time of the decline of the Mughal Empire, the rajahs and nawabs of the Hindu and Muslim states of northern India built several palaces and gardens. Still impregnated with the “Mughal style”, they nevertheless open themselves to other influences. But in the miniature paintings executed in these diverse courts, the chahar-bagh combined to the architecture and waterside terraces remains the ideal environment in which the subjects are set.

Inside the Zenana
The zenana, where the women of the princely household dwell, occupies an important space in the most private part of forts and palaces. Reserved to the sovereign, access to the apartments sheltering the queen mother, the consorts, the concubines, the servants and the young children is strictly controlled. Armed door guards, eunuchs and female matrons and guardians assure that the purdah, the ancient custom of the reclusion of the court’s female population, is respected. Whether Hindu or Muslim, these women, who play no official role, spend the better part of their existence confined in the zenana. They seldom step outside,

only to accompany the sovereign on some trips. The story of the Emperor Jahangir’s favorite spouse, Noor Jahan, who leaves the palace to go horse-riding and hunting with her face unveiled, remains exceptional. On the other hand, many feasts, animated by female dancers and musicians, are held in the zenana. Invisible and uncrowned, often cultivated, the spouses nevertheless play a role in the state’s affairs. Being influential as long as they remain in their master’s favor, their intervention is solicited.

Architecture, with its pavilions opening on inner yards and gardens, brings a breath, an illusion of freedom, to this closed world. Nature is present: a faraway hilly panorama, a river seen from atop a high terrace protected from onlookers, a pool and flowerbeds. A weeping willow, a cypress tree, a patch of cloudy sky are sometimes enough to invoke it.

By the end of Akbar’s reign, women captured in the intimacy of the zenana appear in miniatures. Obviously, the painters are not allowed into this closed world and these women’s faces are unknown to them. Nonetheless, one of their favorite subjects is the representation of the princely couple standing, sitting or reclining, leaning against soft cushions, in a pavilion opening on the garden or a terrace overlooking a river or a pool. A female servant wields a fly-swap, musicians play various instruments, beverages, foods and the hookah are prepared. The daily life of the zenana’s women, the object of every fantasy, is illustrated in its most prosaic details, the makeup, the usage of the hookah or the preparation of bedclothes. Untiringly repeated, these scenes, particularly that of the hairdo, take place in enthralling surroundings where floral carpets merge with flowerbeds. Some painters, impregnated with iconographic themes of Indian origins, have privileged a few rare instants of feminine solitude: the anxious heroine awaiting her lover is represented in diverse, strictly codified, poses reflecting her feelings.

Safavid Feasts
When, at the very beginning of the 16th century, the Safavids (1501-1732) succeed the Timurids, the structures and amenities of the garden, the material expression of paradise, remain unchanged for a while. Miniatures and artifacts acquaint us with an ideal microcosm in which the flowers of spring mingle with the fruits of summer. Every public or private activity connected to sojourns in the garden is represented. Scenes of receptions given in honor of notables, feasts held on the occasion of a circumcision, a marriage or a return from a hunting expedition, are associated with sumptuous banquets, generally accompanied by music and dance.

The prince presides over a more or less numerous assembly, sitting on a throne or a carpet, at the entrance of his pavilion or in a pleasant corner of the garden, sometimes in the orchard. Whether as a grass-lined water stream, a pool fed by two small channels or a large liquid mirror, water is ever present. Servants carry narrow-edged plates holding portions of mutton and venison, whole broiled poultry and brochettes. In the foreground of the Princely Reception (Musée du Louvre), a cook is turning a spit loaded with small birds. The same plates, topped by ceramic or golden conical covers, could contain pilau, i.e. cooked rice with meat and broth, served plain or tinted with saffron or pomegranate juice. Fruit appear often in miniatures, presented on plates. Sweets, particularly appreciated in Iran, notably candy bars and “liquid jams”, were served at any time of the day. Barnabas, the archbishop of Esfahan, was thus offered coffee and “a large tray of bonbons and sweets” before the meal.

Persian music is governed by a given mode that may be modified, botin its melody and rhythm, during improvisations in which singers and instrument players deploy all their talent. A book cover from the French national library shows us three musicians at work: one is playing the duff, a tambourine with small cymbals, the second the harp and the third the ‘ud, a kind of short-necked lute.

Pure water, scented with flowers or spices, fruit syrups, milk, tea and coffee are commonplace beverages. Although falling under the religious prohibition of fermented beverages, wine was ever consumed in princely banquets. That of Shiraz, the most appreciated in Iran, was reserved in priority to the king’s table. One currently finds representations of cupbearers carrying a long-necked bottle and a small cup on Safavid ceramic vessels, fabrics and albums. The wine celebrated by the artists—“pour this wine tinted like tulips and rubies”—bears a particular meaning for certain Sufis. When Jalal-ed-Din Rumi writes: “The wine of union, O thou! Pour that I may shatter, as a sot, the fetters of the eternal prison”, drunkenness becomes a metaphor of mystical union with the divine.

The Garden of Pleasures
Closed unto itself, the garden in which the harmony of divine order reigns is, for a Persian, a place of enjoyment rather than action. Having inherited in this regard a very ancient conception, he does not walk around in his garden; he chooses a place in the fresh shade near the water to sit down. He is under the sky, the “turquoise arch”, amid the pine and planes, the cypresses interspersed by blooming fruit trees, fragrant lentisk and myrtle, basilisk and thyme. Birds are perched on tree branches and roses, tulips and peonies from China grow in clumps. There is no need for him to move about in this place that has become the receptacle of all delicate sensations—the perfume of plants, the murmur of water, the songs of the birds, the caress of the breeze. Mohammad-Yusef elegantly translates this state in his portrait of a Young Man Leaning against a Willow Tree (Musée du Louvre): “Silence! Spring has come, the rose has come… the beauties have sprung out of the hidden reality to voice their call.” Omnipresent in art, the rose (gol), whether from Damascus or “musk-scented”, is, for the Iranian soul, the most perfect manifestation of divine beauty on earth. Under the influence of European botanical plates or Mughal works reaching Iran, the artists have drawn simple sweetbriers or fluffy roses, slightly in the manner of Redouté. They appear in naturalistic watercolors that display great refinement of lines and extreme sensibility. The iconographic theme of the rose and the nightingale (bolbol) comes from Persian poetry, which,under this form, sings of the beloved and her lover. Nezami compares them to the unfortunate lovers Layla and Majnun: “On the highest branch the nightingale is perched, sighing as Majnun, while below the rose reaches with its corolla for the bird, as Layla.” Very soon, the couple “rose and nightingale” takes on a mystical dimension in Sufi Iranian poetry, which expresses itself in passionate terms: “Mine is the inebriation of the rose garden as it is the nightingale’s, and as the nightingale I am assassinated by separation” wrote Jalal-ed-Din Rumi as early as the 13th century.

The city of Shiraz was famous for its roses and its distillery arts. Oils were obtained in the form of a brown jelly, and waters were more or less concentrated. Decent hospitality was inconceivable without a sprinkling of rosewater, considered indispensable after the meal, after hand-washing. Numerous sprinklers were made in Shiraz, then famous for its glass industry. Their elegant forms, their elongated bodies, coiling necks and diverse spouts persist well after the Safavid period.

Esfahan, the City-garden
When, in 1598, Shah ‘Abbas I transfers his capital to Esfahan, an entire city becomes a garden. The urban plan of the new city integrates nature into grandiose architectural spaces, mostly located between the ancient city and the river. One of the royal gardens, the Hezar-Jarib, however, extends far beyond this river, in the alignment of a large tree-planted avenue, the Chahar-Bagh. The three-kilometer-long Chahar-Bagh begins at the royal pavilion, the Chehel-Sotun (Forty Columns). Two rows of plane trees, bushes and flowerbeds grow on both sides of a central canal interrupted by pools bordered with onyx. “The avenue is the most beautiful thing in Esfahan and in all Persia,” writes Tavernier, the French jeweler who repeatedly stayed in this city between 1632 and 1668. It was a promenade where, come nightfall, “all the pride of Esfahan came to stroll,” take some fresh air and have a coffee.

On both sides of the Chahar-Bagh lie luxuriant gardens with such poetic names as the Nightingales, the Mulberry Trees, the Soul. They are accessed through a portico topped by a small reception hall. An outwardly open architecture is nested amid the decorative and fruit trees and the trefoil-covered grass-beds.

A succession of kiosks (of Mirrors, of the Eight Paradises) sometimes housing a pool with waterworks is scattered in the royal gardens. Widely opening on grassy perspectives shaded by elm and ash trees, these pavilions are decorated with vividly colored ceramic panels depicting genre scenes located, again and always, in gardens. It was blissful to sit among the hosts on the talar—a vast terrace with wooden columns—of the Chehel-Sotun, by the fresh pool, and to follow the plays of shadow and light.

The gardens of the Chehel-Sotun adjoin those of the ‘Ali Qapu (Sublime Door) royal palace. The facade of this palace opens, by an elevated talar, on the Royal Square, the focal point of the empire, six times larger than the Place des Vosges, its contemporary in Paris. Three other prestigious buildings, the Mosque of the Shah, the Mosque of Sheikh Lotfollah and the monumental entrance of the Royal Bazaar, surround the square, where a multitude of daily activities are carried out. Their mantles of ceramic tiles adorned with floral arabesques echo the nearby gardens.

Shah ‘Abbas has created other relationships between the garden and the city, yet Iran does not forgo its tradition of enclosed gardens. It develops new ones on the shores of the Caspian Sea or in such cities as Shiraz and Kashan, including the ever-famous Bagh-e Fin. One also finds interior gardens in mosques, madrasas (theological schools) and caravansaries.

Three decades after its creation, Esfahan was known, under the epithet of “Half of the World”, in all European capitals. Shah ‘Abbas’ successors perpetuated his work, but with the downfall of the Safavid dynasty, the city lost its prestige as a capital. Mostly abandoned, its gardens offer a melancholy image in later lithographs.

Iran under the Zand and the Qajar
The Zand and Qajar dynasties succeeded to the Safavid, under which the country had opened itself to Europeans, merchants and missionaries. Iranian artists had begun becoming interested in certain aspects of Western art, notably the vegetal representations which they have come to know through engravings. The floral theme later becomes one of the dominant themes of Persian painting. There were “flower painters”, such as Mohammad-Hadi, “the most esteemed artist in Persia”.

The lacquer technique, i.e. painting on varnished papier maché, reaches the peak of its development on boxes, mirror-cases, pen-boxes and book covers. Thus, the Book Cover with Narcissuses displays a bunch of these flowers, which are highly appreciated in poetry, where, as here, they are associated with yellow and red.

In the 19th century, more contacts are established with the West. The monarch Nasser-ed-Din Shah (1848-1896) travels repeatedly to Paris and Frenchmen travel across Iran. A book by Jules Laurens, Le Jardin de la mission française à Téhéran (Ziai-Gharagozlu collection), shows a private garden of the Qajar capital, one among the many others created or restored in that period.

Evolution of a Glory

(On occasion of Moharram month)

Farairan Quarterly,Nos.5&6,Autumn2000-Winter 2001

Mohsen Sharifi

Upon the initiative of the Culture and Islamic Guidance Cultural Affairs Vice-ministry, the Eighth International Exhibition of the Holy Qor’an was held at the Cultural and Artistic Creations Center during the holy month of Ramazan 1421 AH (12 Azar to 6 Dey 1379 AS). The first of this series was held in Esfand 1372, but the existence of more elaborate sections and the presence of yet more superb works in this year’s exhibition made it an even more magnificent event. Sixteen sections, including a much more lavish artistic section, were included. The ever popular artistic section of this exhibition in fact embodies the Qor’anic Arts section of the Exhibition of the Holy Qor’an, dedicated each year to a different theme. This year, designated Year of Imam ‘Ali, seventy excellent works created in view of this occasion on such themes as the Qor’an in Imam ‘Ali’s statements, Qor’anic verses pertaining to Imam ‘Ali, and narratives from the Holy Prophet concerning Imam ‘Ali, were exhibited. Three winners were selected by a jury consisting of master calligraphers Gholamhossein Amirkhani, ‘Ali Shirazi, Mohammad Haydari, Kaykhosrow Sorush, Mohammad Salahshur, Amir-Ahmad Falsafi and Mohammad Ehsa’i, master painters and illuminators Mohammad-Baqer Aqa-Miri and Mohammad Tariqati, and master traditional artisans Majid Sharifzadeh and ‘Ali-Rez Mojtahed

Artistic Section
The Holy Qor’an, the main source of all authentic Islamic arts, embodies both the subject matter and the main themes of innumerable works in such varied fields as calligraphy, painting, illumination, the arts of the book (design, illumination, cover-making, binding…) and the production of traditional objects of metal, wood, etc.

The first manuscripts of the Holy Qor’an were written in a sort of naskh-e mayel script known as hejazi, or tanzil, then used in the Hejaz. This task was later assumed by kufi script. In its initial form, kufi had neither dots nor vocal marks, and this led to misinterpretations. The problem was resolved in the first century of the Islamic era by Ab-ol-As‘ad ad-Du’ali, a disciple of Imam ‘Ali (pbuh) who had already written a grammar of the Arabic language following his spiritual leader’s directives. Ab-ol-As‘ad laid the foundations of a notation system based on dots in Qor’anic texts whereby similarly-shaped letters were distinguished by a varying number of dots above or below them and dots inside or beside consonant letters indicated their sounds. The use of red and yellow dots, in contrast to black letters, not only guided the pronunciation but also added a chromatic dimension to the decoration of Qor’an manuscripts. Since then, for long centuries, Muslims have made innumerable copies of the Holy Book, bringing into being an important occupation that is still traditionally followed as a familial art in many countries._

In the Islamic world, the appearance of calligraphy, the emergence of different scripts and styles, and the development of the arts of the book, are all due to the efforts devoted to copying the Holy Qor’an. Early Qor’an manuscripts bore no separation marks, but gradually signs indicating the end of verses, surahs, parts and chapters appeared. In earlier copies, the beginning and end of verses, surahs and parts and the prostration points wereindicated by golden dots and simple geometric lines, whereas colorful medallions and decorative frames were later designed which eventually gave birth to the art of illumination.

Calligraphy and Calligraphic Painting
An examination of the history of calligraphy reveals that this art owes its origins and development to the task of copying the Holy Qor’an. This was initially done in a script known as hejazi, or tanzil. After the year 17 AH / AD 638, when Kufa was founded, its population wrote Arabic in a particular style that came to be known as kufi, which in turn originated several other scripts and also affected the arts of the book and architectural decoration.

With the appearance of naskh script in the fourth century and the institution of the Six Scripts, or Fundamental Scripts, namely sols, rayhan, naskh, mohaqqaq, towqi‘ and reqa‘, calligraphy made a great leap forward. The creation of these scripts has been attributed to Mohammad-‘Ali Bayzavi Shirazi, known as Ebn-e Moqleh. In the fifth century, these scripts, particularly naskh, were perfected and refined by ‘Ali ebn-e Helal, known as Ebn-e Bavvab. In the second half of the seventh century, Yaqut Mosta‘sami devoted his incomparable style to copying Qor’anic verses in sols, naskh and rayhan scripts. His advent marked the beginning of the golden era of Islamic calligraphy, during which various styles and forms flourished and distinguished scripts and fashions developed throughout the Islamic world.

Kufi reached such perfection at the hands of Iranian artists that it was emulated, under the appellation of kufi-e Irani, (Iranian Kufic) in other Islamic lands, and found its way as a decorative element into such other Islamic traditional fine arts as ceramic manufacture, metal work, stucco carving and tile-making. Iranian calligraphers invented a new type of naskh that paved the ground for the emergence of an independent Iranian school of calligraphy and the invention of nasta‘liq script in the ninth century AH (15th c. AD). Owing to the delicate tracing, strong configuration and fine proportions of its letters and words, brilliantly exhibited in Mir-‘Emad’s masterpieces, nasta‘liq began to be used in copying the Holy Qor’an and other venerable manuscripts and creating calligraphic tableaus. A century later, talented Iranian calligraphers created an exquisite variation of this script that was called shekasteh nasta‘liq. Darvish ‘Abd-ol-Majid Taleqani and Mir-‘Emad Qazvini played exemplary roles in perfecting shekasteh nasta‘liq and nasta‘liq, respectively.

During the past two decades, alongside the continued creation of lasting classical works of calligraphy, several talented artists seeking to bring diversity to this art have been experimenting with colored inks and painterly devices, combining painting and calligraphy into what is now known as “calligraphic painting.”Of course, the roots of this art lie in the magnificent tile epigraphs adorning mosques and other religious buildings.

The calligraphic works exhibited at the Eighth International Exhibition of the Holy Qor’an were selected from among the pieces written by calligraphers and artists many of whom had achieved mastery level. A total of seventy works were on show, including:

1. Mobaheleh (Al-e ‘Emran, verse 61), by master Mohammad Ehsa’i, illuminated by Mohammad Tariqati. Rayhan script;

2. Maveddat (Shura, verse 23), by master ‘Abd-os-Samad Haj-Samadi, illuminated by Mohammad Tariqati. Sols script;

3. Ze-l-Qorbi (Nesa’, verse 36), by master ‘Abbas Akhavein, illuminated by Mohammad Tariqati. Nasta‘liq script;

4. Velayat (Ma’edeh, verse 55), by master Gholam-Hossein Amirkhani, illuminated by Mohammad Tariqati. Nasta‘liq script;

5. Abrar (Abrar, verses 5 to 9), by master Mohammad Heidari, illuminated by Mohammad Tariqati. Shekasteh and ta‘liq scripts.

Also exhibited were works by masters Sedaqat Jabbari, ‘Ali Rajiri, Karam-‘Ali Shirazi, Amir-Ahmad

Falsafi, Mojtaba Malekzadeh, Mohammad-Reza Afshari, ‘Ali-Reza Bakhshi, Valiollah Parsa Niaki,

Mohammad Chizfahm, ‘Ali Reza’ian, Javad Sebti, Ahmad ‘Abd-or-Reza’i…

Painting and Illumination

In the early years of the Islamic era, decorative elements were used in Qor’an manuscripts to mark the beginning and end of verses, surahs and parts, as well as the prostration points. The early decorative bands separating the surahs became elaborate panels in the third and fourth centuries AH, turning into richly refined frontispieces in the seventh and eighth, and eventually giving birth to illumination, a mature Islamic art in its own right, in the eleventh and twelfth. The arts of the book were also deeply affected by this development.
The term tazhib (literally ‘gilding’) refers to decorative compositions of various types of arabesques drawn in gold or black ink on indigo background. When other colors are conspicuously involved, the terms tarsi‘ (literally ‘bejeweling’), or tazhib-e morassa‘ (literally ‘bejeweled illumination’), are employed, and when the frames of the inscribed medallions surrounding the illuminated parts are drawn in brilliant colors, they are called jadval-e morassa‘ (literally ‘bejeweled margin’).

The decoration of Qor’an manuscripts and other precious books and poetic anthologies caused the arts of the book to develop immensely. The pages of Qor’an manuscripts and other precious books were adorned with delicate floral scrolls and harmonious geometric patterns executed on surfaces of gold and other colors. A magnificent, colorful world of refined patterns appeared in which the character of different periods can be retraced. The pages and frontispieces of the third and fourth centuries AH (9th c. AD) are modestly decorated. Those of the fifth and sixth centuries AH (11th & 12th c. AD), which coincide with the Seljuq period in Iran and Mamluk rule in Egypt, are austere and elegant, occupying a wider place and indicating a distinct progress; vegetal patterns have replaced simple geometric ones, and a type of scroll-like decoration has appeared. The illuminated panels of the seventh and eighth centuries AH (13th & 14th c. AD), i.e., the Il-Khhanid period, are majestic and powerful, including eight- and twelve-pointed stars, individually or in groups. Their relatively broad vegetal patterns combined with inscriptions in kufi script on indigo background are trikingly beautiful. Arabesques adorn the margins. Dark blue predominates in central parts and is surrounded by gold, blue, red, green and orange. Pages illuminated in the ninth, tenth and seleventh centuries AH (15th-17th c. AD), i.e., in Timurid and Safavid times, are sumptuous, refined and elaborate. Illumination reaches the peakof its perfection in the Timurid period, when the main colors are gold and indigo, and the main motifs are vegetal patterns, landscapes and occasionally birds.

The development of Iranian illumination is representative of the evolution of this country’s decorative arts. Today, the prosperity of the arts of the book, including illumination, has declined in the face of industrial printing technologies. However, the opening pages, margins and covers of printed Qor’ans, albums and

calligraphic collections continue to be illuminated, as a venerable tradition in full bloom.

In illuminated pages, indigo text appears on buff-colored pages. Sometimes the entire page is gilded and polished to serve as a background on which khata’i and eslimi patterns are drawn. The patterns are delineated with a fine ink pen and filled in with watercolor and indigo dye. The flowers’ edges are then highlighted and each petal is accentuated with a color deeper than its surrounding background.

Other elements involved in the decoration of Qor’an manuscripts, books and calligraphic pages are called tash‘ir, sar-lowh and shamseh.Tash‘ir refers to decorative monochrome—usually golden—drawings of rocs, dragons and other imaginary creatures, executed with a swift brush. Once these are drawn, the illuminator goes on decorating the floral and animal elements with golden dots.

Sar-lowh, or sar-lowheh, is a crown-like illuminated frontispiece—sometimes consisting of one or several symmetrical and scroll-like frames—that appeared at the top of the first page of the book. Under it, and sometimes connected to it, a decorative inscribed panel was added wherein the invocation Bismillah, the title of the book, and the names of its surahs, were written in kufi, sols, or reqa‘ script. These were called sar-lowh-e katibeh-dar. The frontispieces of Qor’ans copied during the first eight centuries of the Islamic era were mostly rectangular. In the Timurid period, these assumed the shapes of prayer niches, medallions, domes, multi-lobed figures and regular polygons. Safavid frontispieces were very varied in terms of design and coloring.

Shamseh refers to a star-like, or sun-like, figure inscribed in a circle. This motif, created from a combination of various decorative patterns, is visible in different types of decorative arts, such as tile-work, stucco carving, penmanship, etc. These roundels appeared at the beginning of most precious illuminated manuscripts.

Iranian painting, benefiting from its rich heritage, contributed to the decoration of vessels and influenced the design of carpets, tile-work, stucco carving and other arts. Following their acquaintance with Chinese art and the vogue of Song art in Iran, particularly after the Mongol invasion, Iranian painters briefly turned to merely copying them, but soon reverted to their own cultural heritage.

In the ninth century AH (15th c. AD), under the Timurid Shahrokh and his descendants, more than a hundred talented master painters working at the great library of Herat gave birth to the magnificent School of Herat, which contributed stupendous masterpieces to the history of art. Today Islamic painting is proud to have a master as Mahmood Farshchian, who has reached perfection in this field.

Traditional Arts with Qor’anic Themes
A multitude of exquisite handcrafts connected with architectural and utensil decoration were made of clay, wood, cloth, metal, etc. Superb Qor’an manuscripts, besides their artistic and calligraphic significance, have given birth to various styles of traditional book design, cover making and binding, which may therefore be considered arts related to the Holy Qor’an. Book covers underwent a long development from their initial form of two thin planks enfolding the text pages to the magnificent burnished or lacquered covers produced in later times.

were drawn, directly or by the intermediary of a page of paper, on the back of the leather. These were then cut out using a pointed knife and pasted elsewhere—inside or outside the cover. This technique was called sukht, or sukhteh, which means literally ‘burnt’, because dark brown leather was used to make this type of covers. Various arabesques, vegetal patterns and human or animal designs were used. The origins of this art date back to Timurid times. Superb sukht covers were also produced in the Safavid period.

·Sukht-e Mo‘arraq Book Covers

A type of sukht in which the patterns adorning the cover were made in the mo‘arraq manner, which gave it an even more precious appearance. This technique consisted of inlaying the cutout areas with replicas of the desired patterns usually made of darker leather. This was done so finely that the joint between the assembled surfaces was invisible. Book covers of this type were first made in the 9th century AH (15th c. AD) and they reached their peak of perfection in the Safavid period.

·Lacquered Book Covers

This type of book covers became popular in the second half of the 9th century AH (15th c. AD) and reached its peak of perfection in the 12th and 13th centuries AH (18th & 19th c. AD). Cardboard, paper paste, leather, thick cotton fabric and, rarely, thin boards were used in the manufacture of these covers. A layer of ab-e sorb was applied to the cardboard, leather, fabric or wood, and let to dry. The resulting surface was smoothed with a file and covered with a fine silk cloth on which the desired painting was executed. The finished work was covered with successive layers of lacquer (rowqan-e kaman), which gave it a glossy appearance. Various arabesques and ‘bird and flower’ patterns were used in this decoration.

·Hammered Book Covers

This was the most current type of book covers. The desired patterns were drawn in ink on a pair of complementary (‘male’ and ‘female’) pieces of hard leather, brass or wood, and their surrounding areas were hammered down to leave the patterns themselves in relief. The brass (‘female’) piece was chiseled so as to precisely reflect the relief of the entwined scrolls of the design. Once the brass matrices were ready, a press was used to transfer their patterns to the leather cover. These were sometimes gilded. Medallions and quarter medallions were also occasionally included.

·Pottery

One of the Iranians’ finest achievements is their pottery, which is as old as Iranian civilization. In the early centuries of the Islamic era, Nayshabur became the center of Iran’s pottery industry. Terra cotta wares left behind from the third and fourth centuries AH (9th & 10th c. AD) are brilliant examples of this art. The pottery of Kashan was unrivalled in the seventh and eighth centuries AH (13th & 14th c. AD).

Imam ‘Ali (pbub)Mirrored in Art

(On the occasion of Moharram month)
Farairan Quarterly,Nos.5&6,Autumn2000-Winter 2001
Shurideh Ghazi

As this year has been named “the year of Imam ‘Ali”, an exhibition entitled “‘Ali (pbuh) Mirrored in Art” was held at the Sahebqaraniyeh Palace Museum, part of the Niavaran Historical-Cultural Complex, with the help of the manager of Rivand Gallery, Ms. Shurideh Ghazi, and Dr. Hessameddin Khorrami. A valuable and substantial collection of the works of Iranian artists from the Safavid era was on display in this collection. The exhibition was of the icons of Imam ‘Ali and the Panj Tan-e Al-e ‘Aba1, accompanied by works of naskh2, sols3 and nasta‘liq4 calligraphy, as well as a unique set of calligraphic paintings which completed this collection.

In Iran, the history of carving figures on stone and designs on walls goes back to the pre-Islamic era. Illustrated books, like Mani’s Arjang, were acclaimed and admired. The Book of Khosrovan was profusely illustrated, and coins of the Achaemenid, Parthian and Sasanian eras were minted with effigies of kings. But in the Islamic era—due to certain misunderstandings, and following the Hebrew tradition of banning pictorial representation in religious books—paintings and illustrations were banned in public spaces, especially mosques, and in the holy Qoran. It would appear that this ban on pictorial representation in the first century of Islam was intended to prevent a return to idolatry.

The Arabs were less involved in sculpture and illustration. Nevertheless, in many countries where Islam was embraced as a divine religion the tradition of sculpture, painting and carving began to develop, despite the attitudes towards idolatry. These arts evolved in Anatolia, Mesopotamia, Iran and later India as part of the cultural history of these countries that was now in the service of Islam.

In the early centuries of Islam, arabesque and floral designs were used to decorate bare architectural surfaces; this art developed extensively in Shiite countries. The Egyptian Moslems preferred sculpture and illustration, using the bibles and churches as models. Depictions of the human form were used at the Alhambra mosque. Illustration and painting were gradually revived, but remained strictly excluded from the holy Qoran and mosques. But calligraphy gained a newfound importance, and sols, kufi5 and naskh achieved greater heights. Islam was the inheritor of numerous cultures: Rome and Greece, Coptic and Pharaonic Egypt, and Iran. The Romans inherited the art of the Greeks. The Roman arts, especially sculpture, drew on the ancient Etruscan traditions. The Etruscans created wax effigies of their ancestors to decorate the porches of their homes. Of course this art was exclusive to skilled craftsmen, not the common Etruscan citizens. Considerable progress was made during the time of St. Augustine, and from the fifth century onwards, interior architectural decoration was accompanied by painting. Painting evolved from being a Roman and Byzantine art to one embraced by many cultures. Painting on pottery was gradually developed, but did not have much religious significance. The panels drawn for Roman generals created major changes in this art.

These panels were similar to the pardehs6 created in the late Safavid era to portray the event of Karbala and other religious spectacles. Large canvases were covered with images of the desert of Karbala, the tragedy of ‘Ashura, or scenes of the Judgement Day. A pardeh, or curtain, was draped on these images, and the storyteller, or pardehdar would slowly pull away the pardeh and recount the tragedy of Karbala.

These images and religious canvases were of particular importance to the dervishes and followers of Imam ‘Ali (pbuh), and found expression in depictions of the Imam, known as icons. Iconography itself is derived from the art of ancient India. Images of the Buddha, with a golden halo surrounding his head, began in India four centuries before the birth of Christ. This halo later enters Christian art, and from the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries it is also features in the art of Iran. The presence of a halo or drapery on the faces of religious figures also goes back to historic times.

Icons are first displayed in tekiehs7 . The image of Imam ‘Ali and his zolfaqar (double-edged sword), sometimes as a solitary figure, sometimes in the company of his sons, Imams Hassan (pbuh) and Hossein (pbuh), or other companions. The image of ‘Abbas (pbuh) is hung in saqqa-khanehs8 . Depictions of Imam ‘Ali (pbuh), at times in battle and at times in the city of Kufa, and the images of Imam Hossein (pbuh) in the desert of Karbala adorn the tekiehs and Hosseiniyyehs9 , and later find their way into zoor-khanehs10, khaneqahs11 and coffee-houses.

The oldest icons of Imam ‘Ali belong to the Safavid era. Variety in depictions was taken to be disrespectful to the Imam, yet the style of depiction follows the conventions of the Herat school. The old Persian word for these icons is kesmeh.

The icons of Imam ‘Ali (pbuh) occupy a special place in Iranian culture. Research into historical and religious aspects of this art attest to the significance of the Imam as a prominent figure in the history of the world and a continuous presence in the lives of Iranians. Springs and qadamgahs12 across the country have been named after him, and poetry and literature have also sung his praises.

“The Icons of Imam ‘Ali Mirrored in Art”, contained a comprehensive collection of the iconography and religious calligraphy of Iran. In addition to the icons, the Sahebqaraniyeh Museum has put on display a collection of calligraphic works from the Safavid era—from nasta‘liq to calligraphic relief—which add to the richness of this exhibition.

1. The five holiest figures of Islam: the Holy Prophet Mohammad (pbuh), his daughter Hazrat Fatemeh (pbuh), Imam ‘Ali (pbuh), Imam Hassan (pbuh) and Imam Hossein (pbuh).

2. A type of Islamic script.

3. A type of Islamic script.

4. A type of Islamic script.

5. A type of Islamic script.

6. Narrative painted panels.

7. Building or locale where mourning ceremonies are held.

8. Locale where water is stored for thirsty passers-by and

which is considered blessed.

9. Building or place dedicated to Imam Hossein (pbuh) in

which mourning ceremonies are held.

10. Traditional gymnasiums.

11. A locale where dervishes and holy men reside and

perform mystical rites.

12. Religious sites where the footsteps of a holy figure are

believed to exist.

On Qajar painting

What follows is the abbreviated text of the article “On Qajar Painting”, by the same author, which appeared in Iran-nameh magazine, No. 3, year 17. The new section of the article begins under the heading “Notes on Qajar Painting”.

The history of Qajar painting goes back to the late Safavid and especially Zand era. During the reign of the Safavid king Shah ‘Abbas I (16th and 17th centuries), relations with European countries were greatly increased. Iran enjoyed an extended period of prosperity, fostered by a powerful central government and economic stability. Having suppressed the Uzbek enemy at the north-east, Shah ‘Abbas had also reached an armed peace of sorts with the Ottoman Turks at the western borders, creating a feeling of security in that direction…

The painting of the Qajar era, which begins in the 19th century and continues into the 20th, can be classified in two categories. From the beginning to the end of the rule of Nasser-ed-Din Shah; up to the 1890s. Here we have an outline of the painting of the first period, and the prominent painters of the time:

Classical Qajar painting is a royal art. This is perhaps the most significant point that comes to mind in the consideration of this art. A “market” for art did not exist in its current usage. Contrary to medieval Europe, clergy and clerical institutions did not support the artists, as Islam did not have a favorable view of the arts. Therefore the only “patrons” of the arts were the noblemen of the court, who supported the painters, poets, musicians, and other artists, and provided then with a livelihood. In return the artist worked only for them.

In such a situation the artist had very little contact with the ordinary citizens, though he himself had risen from among their ranks. It was these conditions which decided the subject matter of the paintings. When the patron of art is the court and the artist works only for royalty, he must depict subjects that are pleasing to the court. As a result most of these paintings are portraits of the king and noblemen. Another subject is scenes of festivity, canvases depicting dancing girls and musicians, which were the chief courtly amusements.

There are also certain points to be considered regarding the technique of these paintings. The paintings of this time were mostly done in oils. In traditional and classical Iranian painting (miniature) oil paints were not used. This medium was taken from European art, as the pigments used for small-scale paintings on paper were not suitable for large-sized murals on walls. The pigments were derived from natural ingredients and were not chemically manufactured. Through working with native arts and crafts, especially rug-weaving, knowledge of pigments was extensive among Iranian artists and artisans. The colors were mainly reds, especially cerise, and also ocher, black, verdigris and emerald green, as well as combinations; red, brown and jade green. The colors were basically chosen for their brilliance and intensity. One rarely sees any dusty maroons or dim grays.

Symmetry has long been present in the arts of Iran; in architecture, pottery and porcelain designs, particularly in carpets. In Qajar portraiture this principle is also present and strictly adhered to.

One of the innovations of this age which resulted through the encounter between European painting and Iranian visual arts was the implementation of the conventional rules of perspective, which were nonexistent in classic Iranian painting. Even disregarding this factor, the landscapes were imitations of European art, as the pigments used for small-scale paintings on paper were not suitable for large-sized murals on walls. The pigments were derived from natural ingredients and were not chemically manufactured. Through working with native arts and crafts, especially rug-weaving, knowledge of pigments was extensive among Iranian artists and artisans. The colors were mainly reds, especially cerise, and also ocher, black, verdigris and emerald green as well as combinations; red, brown and jade green. The colors were basically chosen for their brilliance and intensity. One rarely sees any dusty maroons or dim grays.

Symmetry has long been present in the arts of Iran; in architecture, pottery and porcelain designs, particularly in carpets. In Qajar portraiture this principle is also present and strictly adhered to.

One of the innovations of this age which resulted through the encounter between European painting and Iranian visual arts was the implementation of the conventional rules of perspective, which were nonexistent in classic Iranian painting. Even disregarding this factor, the landscapes were imitations of European landscapes of the 16th and 17th centuries. The landscapes depicted were seen from a European viewpoint, not that of the [Iranian] artist, and were not the surroundings which he inhabited and understood…

The second period of Qajar painting coincides with the rule of Nasser-ed-Din Shah and afterwards. Relations with Europe underwent great expansion in the second half of the 19th century. Colonial policies of western nations, especially Britain and Russia had far-reaching effects on Iran’s role in history. These factors, combined with internal turmoil, caused immense shifts in the social structure, which came to an explosive climax in the form of the Constitutional Revolution. The expansion of the publishing industry, the founding of the Dar-ol-Fonoon (schooling with modern methods), creation of a modern army, the publishing of newspapers, contact with western cultures and the translation of their literature and sciences, changes in Iranian poetry and prose, the invention of photography—which was able to document the daily life of common people more efficiently than painting—and its effects on painting, were all events which more or less happened during the long (50 year) reign of Nasser-ed-Din Shah…

At this point it is necessary to touch briefly upon two other developments in the painting of the Qajar era. One is the traditional and classic form of Iranian painting known as miniature, which has its own characteristics, and the other is a common school of painting named “improvisational”, better known as the “coffee-house” (qahveh-khaneh) school, whose artists generally came from the common classes. The famous painter of the decline of the Qajar era was the distinguished Kamal-ol-Molk… The Shah gave him the title of Kamal-ol-Molk in 1310 AH. Four years later he decided to perfect his painting through the study of the great European masters, and departed for Europe. His work can perhaps be divided into two groups, before and after his departure for Europe. Before his journey, he was greatly influenced by the classic Qajar painting and that of previous eras…

With the death of Kamal-ol-Molk in 1319 AH this school of painting came to an end.

Notes on Qajar Painting

1. Banning the reconstruction of reality in plastic arts (painting and sculpture) means handing over nature to metaphysics and reality to hyperreality, creating an insurmountable gap between man and nature and turning the world into a play on irrelevancies, or in the opposite sense, idealizing reality, seeing the world as paradise and taking refuge from the earth to heaven, which in itself is a manner of escaping reality, rejecting it and binding one’s heart to its opposite.

Because of the ban on depicting faces, the painter was unable to turn directly to religious subjects, the issue of life or divine, spiritual stories of saints and prophets. Unlike Christian, Buddhist or Indian artists, he was unable to immediately illustrate his sublime, religious and mythical feelings and perceptions, or in other words, manifest passion, delight, agony, expectation of death, wish for redemption or any other feeling towards God and existence. Faced with such a tremendous restriction, Iranian miniature painting tries to idealize this world, in all its objects and actions, which allow him to display his art, to transcend that which is, to promote the existing reality, lifting it to a truth he is nurturing in his soul and imagination.

2. This painting is as representative of the restricted, closed world of its time—a world of ignorance and spiritual poverty—as 19th century literature and history. Qa’em Maqam’s Compositions was regarded as the best example of Farsi prose, which meant a return to 600 years earlier. The typical example of official recording history is the Nasekh-ot-Tavarikh, which goes back even further in the past. In most of the paintings of this period, individuals have silent, expressionless looks, and the lifeless, frozen bearing of stuffed gazelles or sheep. Even in their costumes there is no undulation of drapery that could show movement. The artist intends them as mere pictures of individuals, not thinking of imitating the Creator; such imitation does not even cross his mind. There is no artistic creation; there is only the action of the hand of a craftsman. The painting of Fath-‘Ali Shah, drawn by “the humblest servant, Gholam Mehr-‘Ali in 1230 AH”, is a typical example of this lifeless stagnation: almond-shaped eyes, joined eyebrows, a blank look, an ample beard and an expressionless face; everything is a cliché complying with an awkward, inappropriate convention.

3. Perception of movement is seldom seen in conventional Qajar painting. Most of the individuals depicted are respectable, austere, unsmiling and more or less stern. The faces are motionless and expressionless, just as the eyes are void of feeling. In the picture of the Golestan Garden by Mahmood-Khan Saba Kashani, the Malek-osh-Sho‘ara (Poet of the Court), the branches and leaves of the trees undulating in the breeze induce a perception of time through movement. So is the case with many paintings by Sani‘-ol-Molk, Mirza-Abol-Hassan-Khan Sani‘ as well as lithographs, including the pictures of the Amir Bahador Shahnameh: They are full of movement, and show that the artist could transcend the closed social framework. Once again one sees that despite the bond between the artist and society, establishing a direct, immediate relation between social situation and a work of art can be misleading. Many works of these two artists do not conform to the conventions of their times. One example is the Fath-‘Ali Shah portrait by Mirza-Baba (1213 AH) belonging to the Oriental and Indian Office Collection. The Shah is sitting on a chair, with a lofty, indifferent look and an imperial glory. His arms and waist are bedecked with jewels. Like other pictures of the same Shah, the painting is full of sharp and lively colors, but unlike most of them, it is not a mere assembly of paints on the canvas, a “decoration” solely meant to please the eye; it is a work of art, with perspective and depth, and the viewer is dealing with a soulful and “animated” being.

4. The concept of time in the painting of this period (just as in religion, philosophy and literature) is a unified, integrated whole, not a continuous, divisible line. Time is divine, eternal and sacred, and its totality is ever present in the memory, and any change in it is an intervention from without, from above. In popular painting, for instance in pardeh-dari (the art of religious narration through paintings on canvas), the past and the future exist in the present. Consecutive events are depicted in several rows next to each other. The present includes the past and the future, and the future is a reverse image of the past. The setting is also a divine place. In pardeh-dari, Karbala—both the event and the site—is the center of past and present times (history); a divine and sublime truth, which means it is alive at all times—including the present—each generation living it in its own time and period. (Note the motto of Shi‘ite believers: “Every day is ‘Ashura and every land is Karbala.”)

In the medieval painting of Europe too, linked, simultaneous scenes of the life and martyrdom of Jesus Christ are the center of creation and resurrection and the truth of the history of the world. The Father (God) is born in the flesh of the Son (Christ), who redeems man’s original sin by accepting pain and death on the crucifix. Thus the salvation of the children of Adam and the resurrection (eternal life, eternity) becomes possible, in the death of the Son, the end (eternity) joins the beginning (genesis, creation); this death is the divine moment that contains the past and the future, all the times, and centralizes in itself the cycle of life and death and the rotation of the firmament. With the death of the Son, the horizon time, the time that comes out of the rotation of celestial bodies, the moon, the sun and the stars, the time that rules our flesh and soul, is ended in a symbolic way.

5. In the stillness of some of the official (classic) Qajar paintings, time is momentarily isolated, it is without a past or a future, but since that moment has distanced itself from its pictorial tradition (miniature) and has unknowingly turned to a new (European) way of depiction, it has no past, and is ignorant of the future; therefore, it is a suspended facade which cannot stand on the permanent foundation of art; like a phenomenon of time, it appears and is imprisoned in a facade. Quite contrary to that divine moment in Khayyam, with a deep existential consciousness of the past and future—two nothingnesses—and a moment of existence; a moment that contains all the nostalgia and envy of the two boundaries of time, two infinities, and lives with its soul the existing moment full of thought and feeling of all the non-existed and non-existing times…

Since the end of the world is nothingness;

Suppose you are nothing, and be merry since you exist.

However, measuring the frigid “time” of Qajar painting with Khayyam’s transient moment is a disproportionate analogy which may be useful to draw attention to the difference between two cultural phenomena.

6. Because it does not know time and place (not to know = lack of consciousness), which appears in the sometimes fossil-like rigidity of the characters, Qajar painting has a limited view of the reality of things and their relations. Not that it is not realistic; rather, it escapes reality and transforms it. (Like knowledge and insight, like the consciousness of that epoch, of which Nasser-ed-Din Shah’s travelogue is a good example, or like politics of the times, the world that Fath-‘Ali Shah knew—or Nasser-ed-Din Shah, and the memoirs of E‘temad-os-Saltaneh—as well as other knowledge, and the perceptions of the innovative poet Qa’ani—a contemporary of Victor Hugo—from poetry and literature.)

7. Technical and professional inability of that realism in the way of depicting arms and legs, the hem of the cloaks or the straight, uncreased skirts of the women, or for instance in the vague, strange look of the lover and the beloved. Like the miniature, the picture is depicted with obvious, explicit lines; there is no sign of chiaroscuro. The symbols of nature (still life) are mostly flowers, fruits (apples, pears…) and birds (parrots and nightingales).

8. In the Qajar period, as of course in any other period, the “individual”—either the elite or ordinary people—does exist. There are also princes, courtiers, statesmen and politicians whose portraits are depicted by the powerful hands of masterful portrait painters—such as Sani‘-ol-Molk and a couple of others. The individual does exist, but “individuality” does not. The people are subjects, and not citizens who have rights. They are absent from the “cultural/artistic” world just as they are disregarded in the “socio-political” life. Therefore, there are portraits of the superiors, but not the subordinates.

In Western painting, paying attention to ordinary people and the scenes of their life is a consequence of a historical/social development. Such attention is seen in Iran in the second half of Nasser-ed-Din Shah’s reign, but not out of an intrinsic social development as in the case of Europe, but mostly owing to the introduction of photography in Iran, and an artistic “imitation” by that time’s painters of its potentials. It is from this period that the fortuneteller, the doctor, the dervish and the peddler appear on the canvas.

9. Like the shah, the court, the orderers and the supporters, Qajar painting is simple and primitive, with the same tribal glory and luxury. However, since it is longing for the Sassanian glory and has fantasies of being an empire (Fath-‘Ali Shah), it appears naive, sometimes with rural flamboyance.

Fath-‘Ali Shah’s megalomania, his imitation of the figures of Persepolis and Taq-e Bostan on the rock-face bas-reliefs of Cheshmeh ‘Ali in Shahr-e Ray, his lion hunting scenes in which an entourage of crowned princes accompany His Imperial Majesty, his sending of full-size, bejeweled portraits to other countries and his comparing himself to Napoleon and the Tzar on the one hand, and his bitter, humiliating defeat in two wars, with its ensuing desperation and surrender on the other… and that arrogance of idle princes, miserable statesmen, contemptible aristocrats, and that daily poverty and ignorance and misery… and the multitude of Ulema sashaying in between… Reflections of such a chaos and turmoil can seldom be found in the paintings of this period. Unlike the miniature which ascended and transcended its boundaries, this art of “the great ones” neither breaks out of its closed framework, nor turns to the society in which it is brought up, unless exceptionally. So, Qajar painting is at best representative of a tiny part of reality. Although fragments of the conditions of those times can be found in paintings, but it seldom deals with the reality itself, and even less with the truth. In the period of Fath-‘Ali Shah in particular, by imitating the engravings of the Achaemenians’ Persepolis (Apadana staircase) or the Sassanian’s Naqsh-e Rostam and Taq-e Bostan, the full-size portraits of the illustrious king try in vain to be symbols and means for the promotion of royal power and imperial glory, or, like miniatures in the Shahnameh or Nezami’s Khamseh, to project an image of the glory, sublime culture, taste and luxury of the court.

10. The book dedicated by Fath-‘Ali Shah to the British court is both a clear example of the megalomania of the “Sultan of Supreme Glory” and the role that such gifts were supposed to play: Divan-e Khaqan, a painting by Mirza-Baba depicting Aqa-Mohammad-Khan and Fath-‘Ali Shah, Tehran, 1802 AD, dedicated to the then British Crown Prince (later King George IV) in 1812 AD. The poems at the top and the bottom of the pictures are expressive of the political awareness of the composer and sender (the Shah himself), and his image of himself. On either side of Aqa-Mohammad-Khan’s portrait, these lines are read:

If there is one sword that guarantees conquest;

It is the sword of the King of the World;

The one whose humblest servants;

Are the commanders and the competent ones.

That lion-hearted one, whose lion;

Is guarded by the Shah of Shirvan;

Heir to Jamshid, Mohammad Shah;

Whose army is as large as the world.

And now, the description of the unique picture of the “poet” himself:

The rule of that all-powerful emperor;

Commands destiny and fate.

His servants, Khosrow and Sanjar;

Are each the king of their time.

Before his humblest companion, a hundred Khans;

Are equivalent to smoke in the course of the war.

The pillar of his palace and the height of his glory;

Are on top of the seventh heaven

(Quoted from Fath-‘Ali Shah’s book of poems, which was apparently displayed for the first time in London in July 1999.)

11. Like its poetry and music, Qajar painting has a coded language, and its symbols assume their meaning according to the said rules and conventions, perhaps somewhat like Iranian music, in which the pieces are played within certain frameworks.

The motifs of Farsi poetry—lover, beloved, wine server, flower, cup, wine, etc.—appear abundantly in painting too. On the other hand, in the pictures of Shahs and the great ones or the court ceremonies, the inviolable order, the rigid structure and the common rhetoric of composers of odes can be seen. In drawing the face, the full moon, arched, joined eyebrows, almond-shaped eyes and rosy cheeks are always present, and the same symmetrical structure of the poem prevails, not only in the composition of the garden and flower and foliage and aristocratic mansions (Royal Persian Painting, pp. 214 & 215), but even in the hair of the dancers and the patterns and colors of the dresses of men and women. Qajar painting materializes each image or motif within the accepted system and tradition.

12. The flaws of Qajar painting—in comparison to 19th century European painting—notwithstanding, one cannot say that it is not a painting school with a style of its own, and therefore has an originality which both attaches value to it and distinguishes it from other examples of the art.

13. Where is the aesthetics of this style of painting placed? In an eye-deceiving glory and majesty. In giving form to the ideal beauty, which usually appears in the image of women, still life or gardens. Unlike unanimous and “cliché” portraits, most of the paintings are full of cheerful and lively colors of red, crimson, purple, brown, orange, amber and the like. In his coloring too, the artist is not seeking to imitate reality, but is in search of pure (ideal) pleasure of the eye. Thus the aesthetics of this style lie in the beautiful combination of colors, in the visual pleasure and in their decorative aspect. (What relation does such aesthetics have with daily recreation, aristocratic entertainment and possibly their concerns?)

14. Unlike the official court painting of this period, painting on tiles has properties of its own, which can be listed as follows:

It is large-sized and free from the restrictions of the book and the canvas, for it was used to decorate the interior and the exterior of the houses, gardens, palaces, bath entrances, sport houses, mosques, gates and passages. Therefore, unlike the miniature and professional painting, tilework was a popular art exposed to the public. Through this art, the religious ban on painting faces is not taken seriously; What has been banned actually finds its way into the daily life of the people, practically becoming permitted.
The paintings of tile makers are the continuation of the tradition of miniature and carpet weaving; the same curvilinear arabesque patterns, flowers and birds, and hunting. And wars and parties! Most of the themes are derived from the Shahnameh, love poems and the biographies of the prophets and Imams.

Therefore, this style of painting follows the previous examples in form and in content, displaying heroic conduct, love and religious beliefs, i.e., the traditional culture. And since it derives its themes from “history”, it is in essence a historical art.

Diversity of cheerful, lively and effervescent colors and free-hand techniques to release daring figures are abundantly seen in this art. Owing to all these factors, the product of the hands of tile workers is dynamic and moving, in sharp contrast to the calmness of the brushes of those time’s official painters.

The creators of these works have risen from among the people and learned their craft in the traditional fashion, practically and under instructions by masters. Shiraz, Esfahan, Tehran, Tabriz and Kermanshah were among the centers of painting on tiles.