Bo Utas (Editor) - Persian Prose - A History of Persian Literature, Vol V-I.B. Tauris (2021)

A History of Persian Literature
Volume V
Volumes of A History of Persian Literature
I General Introduction to Persian Literature

II Persian Lyric Poetry in the Classical Era, 800–1500
Ghazals, Panegyrics and Quatrains
III Persian Narrative Poetry in the Classical Era, 800–1500
Romantic and Didactic Genres
IV Heroic Epic
The Shâh-nâme and its Legacy
V Persian Prose
VI Religious and Mystical Literature
VII Persian Poetry, 1500–1900
From the Safavids to the Dawn of the Constitutional Movement
VIII Persian Poetry in the Indian Subcontinent
Divans, Biographical Anthologies and Literary Criticism
IX Persian Literature from Outside Iran
The Indian Subcontinent, Anatolia, Central Asia, and in Judeo-Persian
X Persian Historiography
XI Literature of the Early Twentieth Century
From the Constitutional Period to Reza Shah
XII Modern Persian Poetry, 1940 to the Present
Iran, Afghanistan and Tajikistan
XIII Modern Fiction and Drama
XIV Biographies of the Poets and Writers of the Classical Period
XV Biographies of the Poets and Writers of the Modern Period; Literary
Terms
XVI General Index
Companion Volumes to A History of Persian Literature:
XVII Companion Volume I: The Literature of Pre-Islamic Iran
XVIII Companion Volume II: Oral Literature of Iranian Languages
Kurdish, Pashto, Balochi, Ossetic, Persian and Tajik
Anthologies:
XIX Anthology I: A Selection of Persian Poems in English Translation
XX Anthology II: A Selection of Persian Prose in English Translation
A HISTORY OF PERSIAN LITERATURE
Founding Editor—Ehsan Yarshater
Volume V
Persian Prose
Edited by
Bo Utas
Sponsored by
The Persian Heritage Foundation
&
The Ehsan Yarshater Center for Iranian Studies,
Columbia University
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A History of Persian Literature
Editorial Board
Mohsen Ashtiany
J. T. P. de Bruijn
Dick Davis
Ahmad Karimi-Hakkak
Franklin Lewis
Paul Losensky
CONTENTS
CONTRIBUTORS . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . xiii
INTRODUCTION (Bo Utas) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . xxi

Bibliography . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . xxxiii
CHAPTER 1: A MEDIEVAL NEXUS: LOCATING

ENSHÂ’ AND ITS ONTOLOGY IN THE PERSIANATE
INTELLECTUAL TRADITION, 1000–1500 (Colin Mitchell) . 1
1. Locating Enshâ’ in the Formative Islamic Period
(8th–11th Centuries) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 6
2. Continuity and Challenge: The Saljuq and Khwarazmian
Era (1100–1200) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 15
Dastur‑e dabiri by Mohammad b. Abd-al-Khâleq
Meyhani (d. ca. 576/1180) . . . . . . . . . . . . . 17
Ketâb‑e atabat al-katabe (compiled shortly after 528/1133)
by Montajab-al-Din Badi’ Joveyni . . . . . . . . 20
Al-Tavassol elâ’l-tarassol by Bahâ’-al-Din Mohammad
b. Mo’ayyed Baghdâdi (d. 588/1192) . . . . . . . 24
Arâ’es al-khavâter va nafâ’es al-navâder by Rashid-al-
Din Vatvât (d. 578/1182–83) . . . . . . . . . . . . 32
3. Innovative Impulses: The Mongol Era (1250–1400) . . . . . 35
Rowzat al-kottâb va hadiqat al-albâb by Abu-Bakr
Ebn-al-Zaki Motatabbeb Qonavi (ca. 678/1279) . 35
Dastur al-kâteb fi ta’yin al-marâteb by Mohammad b.
Hendushâh Nakhjavâni (d. after 768/1366) . . . 42
Tohfe-ye Jalâliyye (ca. 708–716/1308–1316) by Hakim-al-
Din Mohammad b. Ali al-Nâmus Khwâri . . . . 50
4. Retrenchment and Replication: The Timurid Period
(1400–1500) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 65
Resâle-ye qavânin by Mo’in-al-Din Mohammad Zamchi
Esfezâri (d. 915/1510) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 67
Mansha’ al-enshâ’ by Nezâm-al-Din Abd-al-Vâse’
Nezâmi Bâkharzi (d. 909/1503) . . . . . . . . . . 76
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Makhzan al-enshâ’ by Hoseyn Vâ’ez Kâshefi

(d. 910/1504–5) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 80
Bibliography . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 86
Primary Sources . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 86
Secondary Sources . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 89
CHAPTER 2: ADVICE LITERATURE (Louise Marlow) . . . 97

1. Continuities and Interactions among the Pahlavi, Arabic,
and Persian Advisory Literatures . . . . . . . . . . . 98
2. Moralizing Sentences and Collections of Sententiae . . . . . 102
3. Collections of Narratives and Cycles of Stories . . . . . . . 111
4. Mirrors for Princes . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 115
5. Ethical Treatises (Akhlâq) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 130
Bibliography . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 138
CHAPTER 3: RESÂLE, MAQÂLE, AND KETÂB:

AN OVERVIEW OF PERSIAN EXPOSITORY AND
ANALYTICAL PROSE (Ali Gheissari) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 146
1. Introduction . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 147
Prose and Forms . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 147
2. Classical and Formative Periods . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 153
Beginnings . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 153
Philosophy . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 154
Mystical and Meditative Prose . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 166
3. Early Modern and Modern Periods . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 185
Philosophy . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 186
Philosophers after Molla Sadrâ . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 188
Religious Practical Tracts: Resâle-ye amaliyye . . . . . . . 190
Safavid and Qajar Epistolary Tracts . . . . . . . . . . . . . 194
Monsha’ât‑e Soleymâni . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 194
Vajizat al-tahrir . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 195
Parvaz‑e negâresh‑e Pârsi . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 196
Post-Safavid Philosophy . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 197
Hâjj Mollâ Hâdi Sabzavâri and Asrâr al-hekam. . . . 198
Âqâ Ali Modarres Tehrâni’s Badâye’ al-hekam . . . . 199
Reform Literature . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 201
Mirzâ Yusof Khân Tabrizi’s Yak kaleme . . . . . . . 202
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Contents
Mohammad-Hoseyn Nâ’ini’s Tanbih al-omme

va tanzih al-melle . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 204
4. Concluding Notes . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 206
Bibliography . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 208
CHAPTER 4: SCIENCE IN PERSIAN (Ziva Vesel

in collaboration with Sonja Brentjes) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 217
1. Introduction . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 217
2. Encyclopedias and Popular Cosmographies . . . . . . . . . 221
3. Mathematical Sciences (Quadrivium) . . . . . . . . . . . . . 225
Geometry . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 227
Arithmetic and Algebra . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 228
Astronomy . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 229
Astrology . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 233
4. Natural Philosophy / Physical Sciences . . . . . . . . . . . . 238
Meteorology . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 239
Mineralogy . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 240
Botany and Zoology . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 243
Geography . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 244
Hodud al-âlam . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 246
Fârs-nâme . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 247
Jahân-nâme . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 248
Nozhat al-qolub . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 249
Joghrâfiyâ . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 252
5. Medicine . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 253
Medical Encyclopedias . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 253
Anatomy . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 256
Pharmacology . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 256
6. Agriculture . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 258
7. Conclusion . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 261
Bibliography . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 266
CHAPTER 5: CALLIGRAPHY (Francis Richard) . . . . . . . 274

Bibliography . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 278
CHAPTER 6: CONSIDERATIONS ON LITERARY

ASPECTS OF PERSIAN HISTORIOGRAPHY (Bert Fragner) 279
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1. Historiography, Narration, and Literature . . . . . . . . . . 279

2. Writing Persian instead of Arabic— Is the Language
the Media or the Message? . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 286
3. Further Developments in Persian Historiography from
the 11th to the 13th Century . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 296
4. Mongol Rule over Iran and New Perspectives
in Historiography . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 306
5. From the Timurid Period to the 19th Century . . . . . . . . 318
6. Concluding Remarks . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 327
Bibliography . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 332
CHAPTER 7: BIOGRAPHICAL WRITING: TADHKERE

AND MANÂQEB (Paul Losensky) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 339
1. The Sufi Tradition: Arabic Precedents and Persian
Developments . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 341
2. Manâqeb: Individual Lives and Collective Virtues . . . . . . 348
3. The Poetic Tradition: Precedents and Developments . . . . . 354
4. Autobiography: an Inchoate Tradition . . . . . . . . . . . . 370
5. Conclusions . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 372
Bibliography . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 374
CHAPTER 8: STORIES AND TALES: ENTERTAINMENT

AS LITERATURE (Mehran Afshari) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 379
1. Itinerant Storytellers and Professional Narrators (naqqâls) . 380
2. Naqqâli Stories before the Safavid Era . . . . . . . . . . . . . 390
Eskandar-nâme . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 391
Dârâb-nâme . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 395
Qesse-ye Hamze or Hamze-nâme . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 402
Samak‑e ayyâr . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 408
Qesse-ye Firuzshâh or Firuzshâh-nâme . . . . . . . . . . . 413
3. Stories from the Safavid Era and beyond . . . . . . . . . . . 419
Abu-Moslem-nâme and Other Stories Attributed
to Abu-Tâher Tarsusi . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 420
Religious-Heroic Stories . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 425
Qesse-ye Hoseyn‑e Kord‑e Shabestari or Hoseyn-nâme . 429
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Contents
Rostam-nâme and the Naqqâli Tumârs (Scrolls) of the

Shâh-nâme . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 432
Bustân‑e khiyâl . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 434
Amir Arsalân . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 436
4. Shorter Popular Stories Written in the Style of Naqqâli . . . 439
5. Maqtal Books and Stories Related to Karbala . . . . . . . . 447
Bibliography . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 450
CHAPTER 9: POPULAR ANECDOTES AND SATIRE

(Mehran Afshari) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 455
1. Preachers and their Relations with Persian Tales and the
Variety of Tales . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 455
2. Books of Multiple Stories with Religious and Didactic
Content . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 460
3. Satire, Facetiae (Burlesque), and Anecdotes . . . . . . . . . . 466
4. Proverbial Stories . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 470
5. One Thousand and One Nights and Similar Books . . . . . 472
6. Children’s Stories and Oral Fables . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 475
Bibliography . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 478
CHAPTER 10: THE DEVELOPMENT OF MODERN

PERSIAN PROSE: FROM THE NINETEENTH TO THE
EARLY TWENTIETH CENTURY (Iraj Parsinejad) . . . . . . 481
1. Historical Background . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 481
2. Iranian Intellectuals and Persian Prose . . . . . . . . . . . . 486
3. Pure Persian . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 490
4. Translations . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 493
5. Travelogues . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 496
6. Memoirs . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 498
7. Forerunners of Novels . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 499
8. Historical Novels . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 500
9. Early Novels with Social Themes . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 502
10. Short Stories, Novellas, and Novels of the First Half of
the Twentieth Century . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 504
11. Plays . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 508
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12. Literary Criticism . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 511

13. The Press and Journalism . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 513
14. Conclusion . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 516
Bibliography . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 517
ABBREVIATIONS . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 521
INDEX . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 523
xii
CONTRIBUTORS
Mehran Afshari studied at Tehran University, and his M.A. thesis,

a critical edition of Âdâb al-tariq (related to the Sufi Qalandariyya
order), was published in Tehran in 2015. He is a contributor and
an academic member of the board of the Islamic Encyclopaedia
Foundation, Tehran, and a visiting professor at several institutions
in Tehran. His publications include over a hundred research
articles and books on fotovvat (chivalry) and Persian folk literature,
including: Haft lashkar: tumâr-e jâme’-e naqqâlân (Seven armies:
a comprehensive story tellers’ scroll), co-edited with Mehdi
Madâyeni (Tehran, 1998); Chahârdah resâle dar bâb-e fotovvat
va asnâf (Fourteen treatises about chivalry and guilds), co-edited
with Mehdi Madâyeni (Tehran, 2002); an edition of Fotovvat-
nâme-hâ va rasâ’el-e Khâksâriyye: si resâle (Khâksâri chivalry
manuals and tracts: 30 treatises) (Tehran, 2003); Qesse-ye Hoseyn-
Kord-e Shabestari bar asâs-e ravâyat-e nâshenâkhte-ye mowsum
be Hoseyn-nâme (The story of Hoseyn-Kord-e Shabestari on the
basis of the anonymous redaction entitled ‘Hoseyn-nâme’), co-
edited with Iraj Afshar (Tehran, 2006).
Sonja Brentjes is a researcher at the Max Planck Institute for the

History of Science (MPIWG), Berlin. She received her Ph.D. in
1977 from the Technical University, Dresden; her M.A. in Near
Eastern Studies in 1982 from the Martin Luther University, Halle/
Saale; her Dr. sc. from the Karl Marx University, Leipzig; and her
Habilitation in 1992 from the University of Leipzig. She has taught
and has conducted research at universities and institutes in the
German Democratic Republic, the Federal Republic of Germany,
France, the United States, the United Kingdom, Pakistan, and
Spain. Since 2012, she has been conducting research at the MPIWG.
Her initial topic was the history of modern mathematics, but since
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PERSIAN PROSE
the 1990s she has focused primarily on Islamicate societies in the

period between the 8th and the 17th centuries on a broad range of
subjects in the history of science and cross-cultural encounters.
Her publications include “Mathematical Commentaries in Arabic
and Persian—Purposes, Forms, and Styles,” Historia Mathematica
47 (2019); Teaching and Learning the Sciences in Islamicate Societ-
ies, 800-1700 (Turnhout, 2018); “Visualization and Material Cul-
tures of the Heavens in Eurasia and North Africa” in S. Schmidtke,
ed., Near and Middle Eastern Studies at the Institute for Advanced
Study, Princeton, 1935-2018 (Piscataway, N.J. 2018); “Safavid Art,
Science, and Courtly Education in the Seventeenth Century” in
Nathan Sidoli and Glen Van Brummelen, eds., From Alexandria,
Through Baghdad: Surveys and Studies in the Ancient Greek and
Medieval Islamic Mathematical Sciences in Honor of J. L. Berg-
gren (Heidelberg 2014); Elio Brancaforte and Sonja Brentjes, eds.,
“From Rhubarb to Rubies: European Travels to Safavid Iran (1550-
1700)” and “The Lands of the Sophi: Iran in Early Modern Euro-
pean Maps (1550-1700),” Harvard Library Bulletin 23/1-2 (2012);
and “The Mathematical Sciences in the Safavid Empire: Questions
and Perspectives” in Denis Hermann and Fabrizio Speziale, eds.,
Muslim Cultures in the Indo-Iranian World during the Early-Mod-
ern and Modern Periods (Berlin, 2010).
Bert G. Fragner studied Oriental and Islamic Studies at the universities

of Vienna and Tehran and received his Ph.D. in 1970 (Vienna). From
1970 to 1985, he was assistant professor at the University of Freiburg.
He passed his Habilitation in 1977 (a study of Persian memoir-writing
in the 19th century). He was Professor of Iranian Studies at the Free
University of Berlin (1985-89) and at the University of Bamberg
(1989-2003), where he established a new department for Iranian
studies. From 2003 to 2009, he was founding director of the Institute
of Iranian Studies at the Austrian Academy of Sciences in Vienna,
retiring in 2010. His research encompasses the cultural, economic,
and social history of Iran, Afghanistan, and Central Asia from the
late Middle Ages to the 20th century, and various aspects of cultural
studies concerning these areas. His numerous articles and texts
include Die ‘Persophonie’: Regionalität, Identität und Sprachkontakt
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CONTRIBUTORS
in der Geschichte Asiens (Berlin and Halle, 1999; a Persian translation,

Fârsi-zabâni, was published in Tehran, and a Russian translation in
2018); Persische Memoirenliteratur als Quelle zur neueren Geschichte
Irans (Wiesbaden 1979; tr. into Persian as Khâterât-nevisi-ye Irâniyân,
Tehran, 1998); Geschichte der Stadt Hamadan und ihrer Umgebung
in den ersten sechs Jahrhunderten der Hiğra (Vienna, 1972), and
Repertorium persischer Herrscherurkunden (Freiburg im Breisgau,
1980); and the chapter on “Social and Economic Conditions” in
CHIr, vol. VI.
Ali Gheissari is Professor of History at the University of San Diego.

He studied Law and Political Science at Tehran University and History
at St. Antony’s College, Oxford. He has written extensively in Persian
and English on the intellectual history of modern Iran and on modern
philosophy and social theory. He has edited the following books:
Fruits of Gardens (Fawāka al-Basātin), a philosophical miscellany
in Arabic and Persian in late Qajar Iran, c. 1914, by Hâjj Mirzâ
Mohammad Tehrâni (ed. and intr., Qom, 2019); Journal of Despotism
(Majalla-ye Estebdâd), a complete set of a satirical periodical
during Iran’s Constitutional period, 1907–8 (ed. and intr., Tehran,
2019); Illuminationist Texts and Textual Studies: Essays in Memory
of Hossein Ziai (eds., Leiden, 2017); Contemporary Iran: Economy,
Society, Politics (ed., Oxford and New York, 2009); Tabriz and Rasht
in the Iranian Constitutional Revolution, by Hâjj Mohammad-Taqi
Jurâbchi (ed. and intr., Tehran, 2008). He has authored the following
books: Democracy in Iran: History and the Quest for Liberty (co-
author, Oxford and New York, 2006, 2009); Iranian Intellectuals in
the Twentieth Century (Austin, 1998, 2008); Persian translation of
Immanuel Kant’s Groundwork of the Metaphysic of Ethics (co-tr.,
Tehran, 1991, new edition, 2015); Manfred Frings et al., Max Scheler
and Phenomenology (tr., Tehran, 2015); The Concept of Time in
Kant and Other Essays (Tehran, 2018). He is a consulting editor and
contributor to the Encyclopaedia Iranica; and is on the Editorial
Board of Iran Studies book series (published by Brill, Leiden). He is
also the Editor-in-Chief of Iranian Studies; and serves on the Board of
Directors of the Persian Heritage Foundation. His current research is
on aspects of legal and constitutional history of modern Iran.
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Paul Losensky (Ph.D. University of Chicago, 1993) is Professor

in the Department of Central Eurasian Studies and the Depart-
ment of Comparative Literature at Indiana University, Blooming-
ton, where he teaches Persian language and literature, comparative
studies of Western and Middle Eastern literatures, and translation
studies. His research focuses on Persian literary historiography, bi-
ographical writing, and Persian poetry of the 16th and 17th centuries.
His publications include Welcoming Fighāni: Imitation and Poetic
Individuality in the Safavid-Mughal Ghazal (Costa Mesa, Calif.,
1998), Farid ad-Din ‘Attār’s Memorial of God’s Friends: Lives and
Sayings of Sufis (New York, 2009), and In the Bazaar of Love: Se-
lected Poetry of Amir Khusrau (New York and New Delhi, 2013;
tr. with Sunil Sharma). He has authored numerous articles on Per-
sian literature for journals such as Iranian Studies and is a frequent
contributor to the Encyclopaedia of Islam and the Encyclopaedia
Iranica. He is a former fellow at the National Humanities Center
and currently serves as chair of the Department of Comparative
Literature at Indiana University.
Louise Marlow, Professor of Religion at Wellesley College, re-

ceived her undergraduate degree from Cambridge University and
her Ph.D. from Princeton University. She is the author of Counsel
for Kings: Wisdom and Politics in Tenth-Century Iran (Edinburgh,
2016) and Hierarchy and Egalitarianism in Islamic Thought (Cam-
bridge, 1997). She is also the editor of The Rhetoric of Biography:
Narrating Lives in Persianate Societies (Boston and Washington,
D.C., 2011), Dreaming across Boundaries: The Interpretation of
Dreams in Islamic Lands (Boston and Washington, D.C., 2008),
and, with Beatrice Gruendler, Writers and Rulers: Perspectives on
Their Relationships from Abbasid to Safavid Times (Wiesbaden,
2004).
Colin Mitchell is a specialist of medieval and early-modern Iran

and Persianate culture, with interests in court politics, religion,
diplomatics, and literature. He graduated from the University
of Toronto in 2002 and held a Mellon Postdoctoral Fellowship
at Cornell University (2002-3) before permanently joining the
xvi
CONTRIBUTORS
Department of History at Dalhousie University in 2003. Since

then, he has published a number of books and articles on various
aspects of pre-modern Iranian history. Currently, he is working on
a history of princes and succession politics in the medieval Islamic
world, ranging from Anatolia to South Asia.
Iraj Parsinejad studied at the University of Tehran, completing his

B.A. in Persian Literature and M.A. in Linguistics. He has stud-
ied as a post-graduate student at Wolfson College, Oxford (1974-
78). He was appointed as a visiting professor at Tokyo University
of Foreign Studies in 1985 and subsequently as a full-time faculty
member, serving for 17 years. His main field of research is literary
criticism in Iran. His book A History of Literary Criticism in Iran,
1866-1951 (Bethesda, Md., 2003) is a comprehensive study of the
works of modern intellectuals in Iran. He is also the author of a se-
ries of monographs on leading figures in the field of contemporary
literary criticism in Iran from Akhundzadeh to Shafi’i Kadkani.
Francis Richard was keeper in charge of Persian manuscripts in

the Bibliothèque nationale de France (Paris) from 1974 to 2003,
director of the Islamic Art Department at the Louvre Museum
(2003-2006), scientific director of the Bibliothèque universitaire
des langues et civilisations (BULAC) library (Paris) and director
of the French Institute in Central Asia (IFEAC) from 2010 to 2012,
now retired. He has published catalogues of the Persian manu-
scripts in the Bibliothèque nationale (Paris, 1989 and Rome, 2013),
exhibition catalogues (Splendeurs persanes, Paris, 1997), as well as
several monographs (including Raphael du Mans, Paris, 1995; Le
livre persan, Paris, 2003) and articles. His research is focused on
Persian manuscripts and codicology, Persian miniature painting,
relations between Europe and the Middle East, and the history of
collections.
Bo Utas is Professor Emeritus of Iranian Studies at Uppsala Univer-

sity, Sweden. He received his PhD in Iranian languages from Upp
sala University in 1973 and was appointed as a professor there in
1988. His research covers many aspects of Middle and New Iranian
xvii
PERSIAN PROSE
languages, especially varieties of Persian, and literary, religious,

and historical topics connected with the use of those languages.
He specializes in Persian manuscripts, Sufi texts, and Persian met-
rics. Publications range from his dissertation Tarîq ut-Tahqîq:
A Critical Edition, with a History of the Text and Commentary
(Lund, 1973) to the book The Virgin and Her Lover: Fragments of
an Ancient Greek Novel and a Persian Epic Poem (Leiden, 2003).
Recently his collected papers on Persian literature were reprinted
in a volume entitled Manuscript, Text and Literature: Collected Es-
says on Middle and New Persian Texts (Beiträge zur Iranistik 29,
Wiesbaden, 2008), and his linguistic papers in From Old to New
Persian (Beiträge zur Iranistik 38, Wiesbaden, 2013). His most re-
cent publication is an edition of the mathnavi Mesbâh al-arvâh (as
The Lantern of Spirits, Beiträge zur Iranistik 44, Wiesbaden, 2019).
Ziva Vesel graduated in Persian (second language Arabic) in 1974

from the Institut national des langues et civilisations orientales
(INaLCO), Paris. She received her MA (in Persian literature) in
1976 and her doctorate (on Persian encyclopedism) in 1983 at the
Université de la Sorbonne Nouvelle-Paris III. As a member of the
Centre National de la Recherche Scientifique (CNRS), Paris, from
1983 to 2013, she specialized in the history of science and scientific
literature in Persian in relation to its Arabic models (10th-19th
centuries), working in particular on manuscripts. She made regular
missions of research to Iran, including a two years residence (1986-
88) at the Institut Français de Recherche en Iran (IFRI), Tehran. She
organized three congresses (with published proceedings). She also
directed and edited a collaborative study of scientific illustrations in
manuscripts (Ziva Vesel, Sergei Tourkin, and Yves Porter, eds., with
the collaboration of Francis Richard and Farid Ghasemloo, Images
of Islamic Science: Illustrated Manuscripts from the Iranian World,
Tehran, 2009). Her publications include studies on a range of topics:
Les encyclopédies persanes: Essai de typologie et de classification des
sciences (Paris, 1986), tr. into Persian; “Les encyclopédies persanes:
culture scientifique en langue vernaculaire” in C. de Callataÿ and
B. van den Abeele, eds., Une lumière venue d’ailleurs: Héritages
et ouvertures dans les encyclopédies d’Orient et d’Occident au
xviii
CONTRIBUTORS
Moyen Age (Turnhout 2009); “Les figures astrologiques dans les

textes persans” in Iván Szanto, ed., From Asl to Zâ’id: Essays in
Honour of Eva M. Jeremiás (Piliscsaba, 2015); “Le Sirr al-maktûm
de Fakhr al-dîn Râzî (606 H/1210) face à la Ghâyat al-Hakîm” in
Jean-Patrice Boudet, Anna Caiozzo, and Nicolas Weill-Parot, eds.,
Images et magie: “Picatrix” entre Orient et Occident, Paris, 2011);
“Textes et lieux: L’apport des dynasties mineures de l’Iran oriental
à l’histoire des sciences” in Francis Richard and Maria Szuppe, eds.,
Écrit et culture en Asie centrale et dans le monde turco-iranien, Xe-
XIXe siècles/Writing and Culture in Central Asia and the Turko-
Iranian World, 10th-19th Centuries (Paris, 2009).
xix
INTRODUCTION
Bo Utas
This volume of A History of Persian Literature treats works written

in prose. A number of other volumes in this series of publications
are also concerned with Persian prose. Thus Volume X (published
in 2012) treats Persian Historiography and the forthcoming Vol-
ume IV on Religious and Mystical Literature will also have much
to say on works in prose. Other published volumes in this series
also partially address works written in prose, namely Volume IX:
Persian Prose from Outside Iran, and Volume XI: Literature of the
early Twentieth Century. There are also projected volumes in the
series such as Volume XIII: Modern Fiction and Drama, which
will doubtless have far more to say on the development of modern
Persian prose. Inevitably therefore, there will be some overlap with
the presentations found in the ten chapters of this book in other
volumes in the series. Here, we aim to survey and underline the
literary characteristics of Persian works in prose written through
one thousand years.
In the Persian context, the concepts “literature” and “literary”
are far from clear, hardly from a modern Iranian point-of-view and
definitely not from a Classical Persian point-of-view. The modern
European concept of “literature” has clearly been copied into the
modern Persian term adabiyyât, a collective plural of the adjective
adabi, in its turn a derivation of the Classical Arabic (and Persian)
adab “politeness, urbanity, good-breeding, refined education, eti-
quette, etc.” Adab was thus used in Classical Persian for phenom-
ena that may be covered by our modern term “literature,” but it also
included numerous things that we would not think of as “litera-
ture.” In the earliest Classical Persian usage, it was interchangeable
xxi
PERSIAN PROSE
with farhang (on which the Arabic concept adab seems to have
been coined). In early New Persian (i. e., the Persian language after
the rise of Islam) usage, farhang was still strongly colored by the
pre-Islamic (Sasanian) concept of frahang, a word used for “good
education” in general, including the “liberal arts” as well as prac-
tical skills, such as riding, polo, chess, and backgammon. In later
(New) Persian usage, the meaning of farhang was gradually con-
fined to “dictionary” and generalized to “culture.”
The changes that this word has undergone through the centuries
are indicative of a general difficulty in a diachronic study like this.
All terms that belong to the nebulous sphere of “literature” have
continually—and considerably—changed their frames of reference
during the more than eleven centuries of Persian usage. Thus, an-
other central word found in early Classical Persian texts for some-
thing that would aptly suit our idea of “literature” is sokhan, not
in its strict sense of “word,” but in this context the “word” par ex-
cellence, i. e., the pregnant, elevated, elaborated “word” (sokhan-e
ârâste). This could be one key to the formulation of an historically
neutral definition of “literature,” namely texts written in an em-
bellished language. An additional component would be narrativity,
with the one not being a prerequisite for the other.1 The presenta-
tions found in this volume will try to address this kind of “literari-
ness” in various ways.
With the advent of Islam, the political and cultural situation in
Iran changed gradually and, in the end, dramatically, but at the
same time age-old Iranian cultural forms and structures lived on
in new guises. This is first of all seen in the linguistic development.
Already in the 8th century ce, we find the beginnings of a new
Muslim Iranian high language, first known as Dari (i. e. “court lan-
guage”) and later as Persian, also called New Persian to distinguish
it from Old and Middle Persian. This new language was based on
Sasanian Middle Persian but was written using the Arabic alphabet.
It adopted a growing number of Arabic loan-words, so many, in
1 See Bo Utas, “ ‘Genres’ in Persian Literature, 900–1900,” in Gunilla

Lindberg-Wada, ed., Literary History: Towards a Global Perspective, Vol. II:
Literary Genres: An Intercultural Approach (Berlin, 2006), pp. 199–206.
xxii
Introduction
fact, that by the 13th century almost 50 % of the vocabulary was of

Arabic origin, corresponding to some 20 % of the actual word oc-
currences in ordinary texts. Among educated people, a bi-lingual
use of Arabic and Persian became common, often supplemented
by bi- and multi-lingualism in practical and oral contexts. Already
before the advent of Islam, the Iranian area was ethnically mixed,
but from the 9 th century onwards a new element entered the scene,
namely nomadic and semi-nomadic Turkic groups that became
militarily and politically dominant from the 11th century onwards.
With them an Arabic-Persian-Turkic tri-lingual system was estab-
lished with Arabic for religious and legal concerns, Persian for ad-
ministrative and literary matters, and Turkish for military nomen-
clature. At the same time Persian gained importance far beyond
the borders of Iran, becoming a favored literary medium in India,
Central Asia, and Anatolia.
Since time immemorial, the literary heritage of Iran had mainly
been transmitted orally. This goes not only for songs, poetry, ep-
ics, and narratives, but also for religious texts. Only chronicles
and administrative-economic texts were regularly put to writing.
But under the new political circumstances, previously oral genres
started to be written down in the new language. This process was
accelerated by a veritable revolution in Iranian written culture: the
introduction of the art of paper-making. After the battle of Talas
in 751, the victorious Muslim army brought a number of Chinese
prisoners of war to Samarqand. These prisoners introduced the
technique of paper-making to the Muslim world. From Samarqand,
which remained a center for paper-making for centuries, the art
spread westwards, and a paper manufacturing workshop was al-
ready established in Baghdad by 795. Up to then, the lack of readily
available writing materials had greatly hampered the codification
of texts.
The use of paper opened the doors to a remarkable development
that led to the shaping of a veritable Muslim script world. Within a
few centuries a widespread “manuscript culture” was established:
Written texts were made available at an unprecedented scale, and
manuscripts were often produced as genuine pieces of art with
much emphasis on calligraphy, illustrations (“miniatures”), and
xxiii
PERSIAN PROSE
exquisite bindings.2 From the 10th century onwards there must

have been a rapid increase in the production of Persian manuscripts.
However, this remains conjectural, since very little of early Persian
writing has been preserved. Persian manuscripts from the time be-
fore the Mongol invasion in the middle of the 13th century are quite
rare. The oldest sizeable manuscript of a Persian text that we have
to-day is a pharmacopœa copied in 1056.
This culture of hand-written manuscripts continued through
centuries and survived until the advent of book-printing, which
was quite late in reaching Iran. Although the reform-minded Qajar
crown prince Abbâs Mirzâ established a printing press in Tabriz
in 1812, there were still problems and obstacles. The cursive way of
writing the Arabic-Persian script was found less suitable for typo-
graphic print, and therefore lithographic techniques remained the
preferred option as late as the first decade of the 20th century. More-
over, lithographs of Persian works were to a great extent produced
in colonial India and brought from there to Iran. On the whole,
lithographed books, printed from texts written by hand on stone,
differed very little from traditional manuscripts. The most import-
ant difference was that they could be produced in many copies and
sold at much lower costs, thus reaching a broader circle of readers.
* * *
After the Arab conquest and the dominance of a new religion and
the establishment of a new political order, centered from 751 on
the caliphate in Baghdad, cultural institutions changed radically
in Iranian lands. The Zoroastrian system of religious education
was gradually replaced by Islamic schools (madrasas), although the
9th–10th centuries still saw a flourishing production of Zoroastrian
books in the Middle Persian language (Pahlavi). Apart from educa-
tion in the religious schools, the upper classes continued a system
of private teaching in their homes, which also could include their
2 See Johannes Pedersen, Den arabiske Bog (Copenhagen, 1946), tr.. Geoffrey
French as The Arabic Book (Princeton, 1984); Jonathan Bloom, Paper before
Print: The History and Impact of Paper in the Islamic World (New Haven,
2001).
xxiv
Introduction
daughters. This must have meant a considerable female participa-

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

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

category of written Persian texts. Its background in early Arabic
theory and practice and the ensuing Persian development is elab-
orated by Colin Mitchell in Chapter 1, which he starts by point-
ing out that “Epistolography occupied a profound epistemological
space during a time of significant change in the medieval Persianate
xxvi
Introduction
world.” His exposé shows the importance of Arabic models for the
development enshâ’ (as well as of most written forms of Persian
prose) including the application of rhetorical devices (balâghat). He
demonstrates that elaborate language was a prerequisite of epis-
tolography, thus presenting an argument for regarding enshâ’ as
“literature.”3 This chapter also demonstrates the quickly growing
influence of various forms of Sufism on all kinds of literary activity.
In his survey, Mitchell limits his presentation to the so-called me-
dieval period, i. e., 1000–1500, though clearly secretarial activities
of the kind described flourished for many centuries after.
A strong didactical element can be detected in Iranian literatures
since pre-Islamic times. Good counsel, practical advice, and ethical
instruction found expression already in Middle Persian texts that
influenced early Islamic literature, not least in Arabic. This genre,
or rather cluster of genres, is characterized both by a stress on the
efficiency of elaborate language and the use of illustrative stories. In
her chapter on “Advice Literature,” Louise Marlow takes up “four
types of literary expression in which the advisory objective has
featured most conspicuously.” These types are described as mor-
alizing sentences (sententiae), collections of narratives and stories,
mirrors for princes, and treatises on ethics. In her introduction, she
describes how this “ethical sensibility and a concern with moral
instruction feature prominently in large portions of the Pahlavi
(Middle Persian) and New Persian literary corpora,” and how the
Middle Persian heritage initially influenced authors writing in Ar-
abic who were instrumental in shaping genres that were then ad-
opted by Persian. In the four following sections, she demonstrates
how a rich production of didactical and ethical works mix philos-
ophy with biography, anecdotes, and illustrative examples. A new
element was brought into the rich heritage of advice literature with
the rapid growth of Sufism from the 11th century onwards. Marlow
emphasizes “the emergence and spread of the khânaqâh, as well as
the development of a theory and language of Sufism, both in Ara-
bic … and Persian …”
3 Cf. Jürgen Paul, “Enšāʾ”. EIr VIII, pp. 455–57.
xxvii
PERSIAN PROSE
Chapter 3 treats what may be called “expository and analytical

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

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

rasâ’el dar zamine-ye khōshnevisi, morakkab-sâzi, kâghaz-geri, tadh-
hib va tajlid; be-enżemâm-e farhang-e vâzhegân-e neẓâm-e ketâb-ârâyi
(Mashhad, 1993).
5 See, among others, Julie Scott Meisami, “History as Literature” in Charles
Melville (ed.), Persian Historiography (= HPL X; London and New York,
2012), pp. 1–55; and “History as Literature,” IrSt 33/1–2 (2000), pp. 15–30.
xxix
PERSIAN PROSE
Spuler, Jean Sauvaget, and Bernard Lewis have rather seen Persian
historiography as dependent on Arabic chronicle writing, with
Tabari’s fundamental Arabic World History (already mentioned) as
the foremost model. However, already the Persian version of this
work compiled by Bal’ami betrays an Iranian approach to the writ-
ing of history, telling stories rather than producing strictly veri-
fied annals. The early, anonymous Mojmal al-tavârikh va’l-qesas
(Compilation of Histories and Stories), indicates this in its very ti-
tle with the introduction of the plural of qesse, i. e. “story” or “tale.”
This follows an age-old Iranian predilection for the use of stories
for entertainment as well as didactic purposes. This should not
be mistaken for a preference for what we nowadays call “fiction”
before “facts.” History was certainly concerned with telling what
had truly happened. Another important model for Persian histo-
riography is Ferdowsi’s Shâh-nâme. Particularly from the Mongol
period onwards, this so-called “national epic” had an immense in-
fluence on the very conception of Iranian history and the manner
of narrating it in both verse and prose. The preoccupation with
style, that is to write in a fecund language, using all possibilities of
balâghat (rhetoric), was also present from the very beginning, how-
ever with a tendency of using ornate language growing through
the centuries, something that has been called the “literarization” of
Persian historiography.
Biographical writing appears in many shapes in Persian liter-
ature but more specifically in the genres known as tadhkere and
manâqeb. As described by Paul Losensky in chapter 7, the manâqeb
are mainly concerned with the life of a single individual, a descen-
dant of the Prophet, a Sufi sheikh, or the like, often akin to hagiog-
raphy. The tadhkere, on the other hand, does not deal with single
individuals but includes biographical notices of a great number of
persons (even thousands) belonging to particular social or profes-
sional classes. The close relation with both historiography and the
genres known as resâle and maqâle is evident. Like those, both the
tadhkere and the manâqeb start from Arabic models, more pre-
cisely the tabaqât (‘generations’) and the sire (life of the Prophet),
but quickly develop Persian characteristics of their own. In both,
the lives, sayings, and miracles of Sufis form an important part. In
xxx
Introduction
the manâqeb, words uttered or written and miracles performed by

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

gious propaganda, since Safavid times predominantly Shi’ite. The
style of these stories shifts between quite literary ways of expres-
sion to colloquial uses of language. Qur’anic verses, sayings of the
Prophet, embellishing verses, and rhyming prose appear regularly.
Drawing on the rich store of animal fables and adding all kinds of
supernatural and fantastic beings, stories may seem to be created as
fiction, but were probably generally not seen as such.
The various forms of popular stories, anecdotes and exempla de-
scribed by Mehran Afshari in Chapter 9 are mainly oral, but when
looked upon in an historical perspective they have to be studied
in the form of written records. They are known with many names,
such as mow’eze (sermon), nokte (epigram), eshâre (allusion), la-
tife (amusing anecdote), nazire (example), and tamthil (proverb),
but also with the general terms hekâyat and qesse (also treated in
Chapter 8). They can aim at both entertainment and instruction, in
the latter case often used by preachers in mosques and Sufis in their
convents (khânaqâhs), sharing characteristics with the longer sto-
ries mentioned earlier. This kind of popular story-telling is known
from Arabic sources already from the first centuries of Islam but
is recorded in Persian from the 13 th century onwards. Again, this
testifies to a close relationship between Arabic and Persian culture,
especially in the religious sphere. A special form of popular an-
ecdotes, found both in Arabic and Persian, consists of licentious
stories and facetiae meant to be enjoyed as frivolous entertainment,
at times also with satirical aims. There are many kinds of popular
stories, all being told in a simple colloquial language well adapted
to the audience to which they are told, but when taken down in
writing more ornate language sneaks in.
From the 19th century, winds of change start to blow in the Per-
sian literary world. Chapter 10, written by Iraj Parsinejad, paints
the picture of pre-modern and modern Persian prose writing and
how thousand-years-old genres and writing conventions undergo
rapid change. With this, the use of ornate language and rhetorics
loses its central role in the creation of literary texts, and new types
of prose texts are included in what starts to be regarded as “litera-
ture” (adabiyyât) in a modern sense. The close relation with Arabic
xxxii
Introduction
literature is eroded, and new genres are introduced under the in-
fluence of western models. The character of the written language
itself comes under debate, and there is a strong urge to purify and
purge the Persian language from Arabic. At the same time, there is
a tendency to bring the written language closer to spoken variet-
ies—from which Arabic elements are not so easily purged.
In summary, this volume describes the “literary aspects” of a wide
array of Persian prose genres as expressed in the use of elaborated
language and rhetoric devices together with a strong element of nar-
rativity with didactic and/or entertaining intentions. It also demon-
strates clearly, with the aid of direct references to a variety of texts,
the interdependence between Persian and Arabic forms of literature
and their combined role in the great Islamic cultural synthesis. Much
of this literature is steeped in religion, that is, various forms of Is-
lamic discourse and specifically in Islamic mysticism (Sufism). The
Persian language itself is shown to be a mighty edifice, a cultural her-
itage that still weighs heavily on the shoulders of modern generations.
Bibliography
Bloom, Jonathan. Paper before Print: The History and Impact of Paper in
the Islamic World. New Haven, 2001.
Mâyel-Haravi, Najib. Ketâb-ârâyi dar tamaddon-e Eslâmi: majmuʿe-ye
rasâ’el dar zamine-ye khōshnevisi, morakkab-sâzi, kâghaz-geri, tadh-
hib va tajlid; be-enżemâm-e farhang-e vâzhegân-e neẓâm-e ketâb-
ârâyi. Mashhad, 1993.
Meisami, Julie Scott. “History as Literature.” IrSt 33/1–2 (2000), pp. 15–30.
—. “History as Literature.” In Charles Melville, ed., Persian Historio
graphy (= HPL X), London and New York, 2012, pp. 1–55.
Paul, Jürgen. “Enshā’.” In EIr, VIII, pp. 455–57.
Pedersen, Johannes. Den arabiske Bog. Copenhagen, 1946. Tr. G eoffrey
French, with intro. by Robert Hillenbrand, as The Arabic Book.
Princeton, 1984.
Utas, Bo. “‘Genres’ in Persian Literature, 900–1900.” In Gunilla Lindberg-
Wada, ed., Literary History: Towards a Global Perspective, Vol. II:
Literary Genres: An Intercultural Approach, Berlin, 2006, pp. 199–206.
xxxiii
CHAPTER 1
A MEDIEVAL NEXUS: LOCATING

ENSHÂ’ AND ITS ONTOLOGY IN
THE PERSIANATE INTELLECTUAL
TRADITION, 1000–1500
Colin Mitchell
Epistolography occupied a profound epistemological space during

a time of significant change in the medieval Persianate world. The
New Persian renaissance, beginning in the east under the Samanids
and the Ghaznavids, was a slow, amalgamative process whereby
regimented traditions in Arabic prose and poetry were absorbed
and re-articulated by Iranian polylingual and polymathic literati.
While Persian poetry enjoyed fluorescence thanks to Ferdowsi,
Nezâmi, and Anvari, the prose tradition was equally enlivened
thanks in part to the popularity of genres like mirrors-for-princes,
fables, and court chronicles. This literary boom was in no small
way a reflection of the dominant role played by the families of the
Persian “bureaucrat-scholars” who, since the days of the Barmakids
in Abbasid Baghdad, had maneuvered themselves as the principal
producers and patrons of poetry and prose in the Persianate lands
from the 11th to 17th centuries.1 It is the fluid multi-valency of the
New Persian renaissance, with its genesis crystallizing squarely in
the Arabic literary world but with articulation by Persian poets,
adibs, and viziers working in Turkic-controlled courtly spaces,
that makes the science of epistolography (elm‑e enshâ’) difficult to
1 For a good overview, see Maaike van Berkel, “The People of the Pen:
Self-Perceptions of Status and Role in the Administration of Empires and
Polities,” in M. Van Berkel and J. Duindam, eds., Prince, Pen, and Sword:
Eurasian Perspectives (Leiden, 2018), pp. 384–451.
1
PERSIAN PROSE
define, let alone categorize and standardize with any sense of con-
fidence. Not only did 11th–12th century contemporaries disagree as
to the essence and manifestation of prose enshâ’, they varied widely
on what could be reasonably included in a collection of model let-
ters, decrees, administrative documents and so on. Modern stud-
ies of medieval Persian enshâ’ material has—to date—largely ap-
proached this variability with relatively blunt tools; if not roundly
dismissed by historians for its lack of concrete historical data and
surplus prolixity, enshâ’ prose is largely overlooked in literary
studies on account of its relative lack of structure when compared
to the intense formatting and mnemonic appeal of poetic genres
like qasides, mathnavis, robâ’is, etc. If the heterogeneity of en-
shâ’ was in of itself noted by medieval Persianate contemporaries,
it has been overtly reduced and simplified in modern scholarship;
the time for a re-opening and meaningful discussion of how enshâ’
was understood is long overdue.
To simply label enshâ’ as “letter-writing” is a gross oversimpli-
fication. Moreover, to approach a collection of enshâ’ as simply a
repository of historical documents ignores the complicated dis-
courses and debates, which were shaping the premodern world of
literati and administrators. How, then, can we bring some sem-
blance of coherence to this complex problem? Some scholars have
sought answers by exploring a single textual source, and on the ba-
sis of that particular enshâ’ work, extrapolate across time and space
to offer a normative rationale for premodern epistolography. To
some extent, this is how Riazul Islam approached the issue, relying
on Mahmud Gâvân’s 15th-century Manâzer al-enshâ’ (Perspectives
of Enshâ’);2 Heribert Horst, on the other hand, culled a number
of enshâ’ works and used titular and administrative references to
assemble a picture of bureaucracy in the 11th–12th-century Persi-
anate world,3 as did Heribert Busse for the 16th century.4 Other
2 Riazul Islam, A Calendar of Documents on Indo-Persian Relations (1500–

1750), Vol. I, (Karachi, 1971).
3 Heribert Horst, Die Staatsverwaltung der Grosselǧūqen und Ḫōrazmšāhs
(1038–1231) (Wiesbaden, 1964).
4 Heribert Busse, Untersuchungen zum islamischen Kanzleiwesen an Hand
turkmenischer und safawidischer Urkunden (Cairo, 1959).
2
LOCATING ENSHÂ’ AND ITS ONTOLOGY
collections are modern, and while helpful, the specific documents

profiled in these edited works are combed from older enshâ’ manu-
als with little in the way of context.5 To be sure, scholars are inter-
ested in editing such well-noted enshâ’ works by specific authors on
their own terms, and we are grateful for their efforts but nonethe-
less we cannot help but notice an absence of any larger context for
these sources and the genre from which they emerge.6 While more
holistic efforts have been offered by H. R. Roemer and Jürgen Paul,
these are helpful, but all-too-brief, encyclopedic treatments trying
to shape and define a literary Leviathan which intersects a mul-
titude of textual traditions: poetry, rhetoric, prosody, philosophy,
scriptural exegesis, history, and so on.7 Interest in Arabic enshâ’
in a larger historical sense was seen recently with Adrian Gully’s
The Culture of Letter-Writing in Premodern Islamic Society,8 but
5 Jahângir Qâ’em-Maqâmi. ed., Yaksad va panjâh sanad‑e târikhi (Teh-

ran, 1969); Abd-al-Hoseyn Navâ’i, ed., Asnâd va mokâtabât‑e siyâsi-ye
Irân (Tehran, 1981); Sayyed Ali-Mo’ayyed Thâbeti, ed., Asnâd va nâme-
hâ-ye târikhi (Tehran, 1967): Dhabih Thâbetiyân, Asnâd va nâme-hâ-ye
târikhi-ye dowre-ye Safaviyye (Tehran, 1965); Abd-al-Hoseyn Navâ’i, ed.,
Asnâd va mokâtabât‑e târikhi-ye Irân az Timur tâ Shâh Esmâ’il (Tehran,
1962); Mehmet Sefik Keçik, Briefe und Urkunden aus der Kanzlei Uzun Ha-
sans: Ein Beitrag zur Geschichte Ost-Anatoliens im 15. Jahrhundert (Berlin,
1976). Abd-al-Hoseyn Navâ’i has also edited several volumes of correspon-
dence from the reigns of specific Safavid rulers in the 16th and 17th centuries.
6 In recent years, a number of enshâ’ works have been edited and published,
such as Rasul Ja’fariyân’s edition of Monsha’ât‑e Soleymâni (Tehran, 2009);
Nosrat-Allâh Foruhar’s edition of Qâzi Hoseyn b. Mo’in-al-Din Meybo-
di’s Monsha’ât‑e Meybodi (Tehran, 1998); Ma’sumeh Ma’dankan’s edition of
Mahmud Gâvân (Sadr‑e Jahân)’s Manâzer al-enshâ’ (Tehran, 2002); Sayyid
Ali Rezavi-Bahâbâdi’s edition of Mohammad b. Abd-al-Khâleq Meyhani’s
Dastur‑e dabiri (Yazd, 1996); and Mansur Sefatgol and Nobuaki Kondo’s
edition of an anonymous collection of early modern correspondence (the
manuscript is in St. Petersburg) with the title of Pezhuheshi dar bâre-ye
maktubât‑e târikhi-ye fârsi-ye Irân va Mâ-varâ’-al-nahr: Safaviyân, Uz-
bakân va emârât‑e Bokharâ / Persian Historical Epistles from Iran and
Mawara an-nahr: The Safavids, the Uzbeks, and the Mangits (Tokyo, 2006).
7 Hans Robert Roemer, “Inshāʾ,” in EI2 , III pp. 1241–44; Jürgen Paul, “Enšā’”
in EIr, VIII, pp. 455–57.
8 Adrian Gully, The Culture of Letter-Writing in Pre-Modern Islamic Soci-
ety (Edinburgh, 2008).
3
PERSIAN PROSE
to date we have yet to produce any sustained treatments of Persian

enshâ’ as a genre with an eye towards its general ontology.
The ultimate purpose of this chapter is to present a survey of
the epistolographic genre in the medieval Persianate world (1000–
1500). Returning to the earlier question of how this can be accom-
plished, a solution—at least a partial one—presents itself in the con-
cept of the dibâche, or preface. As many can attest, the foreword,
or prolegomenon, to a prose work has been a longstanding feature
of systematic writing since Antiquity. Texts of various subjects—
philosophy, history, medicine, theology, geography, etc.—were
almost invariably prefaced by a short discussion from the author.
These prologues were designed, more often than not, as a space
and occasion for the author to offer rationalizations and reasons
in defense of the larger work; motives and inspirations, as well as
praise for the pertinent patrons, were likewise included with regu-
larity. Depending on the nature of the work and the temperament
of the author, prefaces could often profile insightful ruminations
and reflections on not only the ontology of the work but on the
genre itself. Such textual practice in both Arabic and Persian was
indubitably influenced by the Greek and Syriac traditions.9 Gerard
Genette described such textual space as an example of a “paratext,”
which effectively accompanied the main text and facilitated medi-
ation between the author and the reader.10 Julia Rubanovich noted
how such prefatory writing was crucial to the reader’s initial con-
ception of the author and reception of the text; as such, a care-
ful reading of a text’s prolegomenon is absolutely critical if we are
to understand authorial intentions and self-view.11 Preface study
(dibâche-shenâsi) has yet to emerge in any serious way as a disci-
pline of academic study, but singular studies in recent years have
elicited energy and excitement; notably, David Roxburgh broad-
ened the theoretical implications of aesthetics in the late medieval
9 The best treatment of this, by far, is Eva Riad, Studies in the Syriac Preface
(Uppsala, 1988).
10 Gerard Genette, Paratexts: Thresholds of Interpretation, tr. J. E. Lewin
(Cambridge, 1997).
11 Julia Rubanovich, “Metaphors of Authorship in Medieval Persian Prose: A
Preliminary Study,” Middle Eastern Literatures 12/2 (2009), p. 128.
4
world in 2000 with his Prefacing the Image: The Writing of Art
History in Sixteenth-Century Iran. In the early 1990 s, a collection
of dibâches from a number of different medieval works and genres
was edited and published by Sayyed Ziyâ-al-Din Sajjâdi, but ad-
mittedly there is little there in the form of analysis.12 Likewise,
Wheeler Thackston edited and published a number of prefaces to
illustrated manuscript albums from the medieval period.13 To date,
no such approach has been applied to the diverse and overwhelm-
ing world of enshâ’. Moreover, given the fact that enshâ’ manuals
often consisted of copied, exemplary missives, it is only within the
dibâche itself that we can locate any sustained discussion of the
theory and practice of the epistolographic arts. I am not especially
concerned with the documents comprising the bulk of an enshâ’
manual or collection, but with how stylists (monshis) and scribes
(kâtebs) chose to present this intricate discursive form, and in some
cases defend it, to his supporters and detractors.
When we consider how much the literary and administrative
landscape was pushed and shaped between the 11 th and 15th cen-
turies, an in-depth, analytical survey of this unique epistemolog-
ical space and its textual practice in the central Persianate lands
is appealing. When we cross-index this with ongoing debates and
crises in the literary-cum-philosophical premodern world regard-
ing: a) the relationship between prose and poetry, b) natural writ-
ing (matbu’) and artifice (masnu’), c) the science of rhetoric (elm‑e
balâghat) with respect to the literary perfection of the revealed
Qur’an, d) the extent to which writing (ketâbat) in itself necessi-
tates an orderly, hierarchical society with scribes and rhetoricians
in the forefront, and e) the meta-debate regarding language and
metaphysics and the philosophical entanglements associated with
reason and scripture in the post-Avicennan landscape, we cannot
but help to look to the dibâches of enshâ’ texts with wide and hope-
ful eyes.
12 Sayyed Ziyâ-al-Din Sajjâdi, Dibâche-negâri dar dah qarn: az qarn‑e cha

hârom tâ qarn‑e chahârdahom (Tehran, 1993).
13 Wheeler Thackston, Album Prefaces and Other Documents on the History
of Calligraphers and Painters (Leiden, 2001).
5
PERSIAN PROSE
1. Locating Enshâ’ in the Formative Islamic Period

(8th–11th Centuries)
What has been preserved of epistolographic writing from the pre-

modern Islamic world was first and foremost a discursive practice
enjoyed by political and administrative elites. On occasion, compi-
lations of letters (majmu’e-ye monsha’ât) will contain correspon-
dence between friends and family members (ekhvâniyyât), but gen-
erally only later specimens survive and the overwhelming bulk of
this enshâ’ writing is dedicated to official writings and documents.
In this sense, most enshâ’ material speaks to the performative and
mechanistic aspects of power: letters between state rulers, letters of
appointment, letters of investiture, peace treaties, tax-remittances,
petitions, memos of censure and probation, and so on. There is
evidence to suggest that epistolographic practices were quickly de-
veloped by Mohammad and his community; the normative tradi-
tion has no shortage of narratives and episodes regarding letters,
registries, diplomatic agreements, etc. which were put into effect
during this “golden” era. To what extent these epistolary develop-
ments came as a result of the allegedly rich, fully-formed written
Arabic language is up for debate, but it seems reasonable to assume
that scribal culture was alive and well in these early days, and such
scribes—especially those who had served the Sasanians in the Sawâd
of Iraq—would have been in high demand as the Arab armies nego-
tiated surrender after surrender. Of course, the later proliferation
of written poetic/rhetorical devices—parallelism, vivid imagery,
direct address, rhyme, and assonance—were first and foremost or-
atorical, and much of what would come to shape Arabic literature
had its basis in the regimented aspects of the spoken language.14 In-
deed, Suzanne Stetkevych has argued in her inspiring article on the
Arabo-Islamic transition from orality to literacy that “rhyme, me-
ter, poetic diction, rhetorical figures, and so on are not, in an oral
14 Tahera Qutbuddin, “Khuṭba: The Evolution of Early Arabic Oration,” in

B. Gruendler. ed., Classical Arabic Humanities in Their Own Terms: Fest-
schrift for Wolfhart Heinrichs (Leiden, 2008), p. 177.
6
context, aesthetic choices, but rather requirements for successful

performance, transmission, and preservation.”15
The first formative “scribal text” was produced ca. 132/750
by Abd-al-Hamid Kâteb: the Resâle elâ’l-kottâb (Treatise to the
Scribes); interestingly, Abd-al-Hamid (along with Ebn-al-Mo-
qaffa’) had been a disciple of Abu’l-Alâ’ Sâlem, secretary to the
Umayyad caliph Heshâm (r. 105–25/724–43), and—according to
Ebn-al-Nadim—a translator of Aristotle’s letters to Alexander the
Great.16 As Gully points out, there is no reference to the term en-
shâ’ at these early dates, but Abd-al-Hamid’s Resâle elâ’l-kottâb
is generally accepted as a marker for the beginning of an Arabic
prose tradition which intersected interest in epistolography and
secretarial culture.17 Moreover, it is in this late Umayyad period
that the new genre of the resâle (“letter,” “treatise”) emerged which
seemed to combine the Greek and Persian heritage of administra-
tive writings with the form, themes, and style of Arabic oratory.18
Ebn-al-Moqaffa’ (d. 139/757) of course wields “unprecedented
renown as [a] master of Arabic prose,” and his own contribution
to the secretarial arts is generally referred to as the al-Adab al-
kabir.19 These shifts in priorities coincided with one of the more
profound development in late Antiquity, the introduction of paper
and paper-making to the Islamic world: From this point forward,
the Muslim omma began its journey as a “calligraphic state,” or
rather a society which increasingly sought to define itself in terms
15 Suzanne P. Stetkevych, “From Jāhiliyyah to Badîʿ iyyah: Orality, Literacy,

and the Transformation of Rhetoric in Arabic Poetry,” Oral Tradition, 25/2
(2010), p. 213.
16 J. D. Latham, “The Beginnings of Arabic Prose Literature: The Epistolary
Genre,” in A. F.L Beeston, T. M. Johnstone, R. B. Serjeant, and G. R. Smith,
eds., Arabic Literature to the End of the Umayyad Period (Cambridge,
1983), pp. 155–65.
17 Latham, “The Beginnings of Arabic Prose Literature,” p. 165; Gully, The
Culture of Letter-Writing, pp. 11–12.
18 Qutbuddin, “Khuṭba,” p. 177.
19 Latham points out that the technical title of this work is Ketâb adab al-
kabir. J. D. Latham, “Ibn al-Muqaffaʿ and Early ʿAbbasid Prose,” in J. Ash-
tiany, T. M. Johnstone, J. D. Latham, R. B. Serjeant, and G. R. Smith, eds.,
ʿAbbasid Belles-Lettres (Cambridge, 1990), p. 57.
7
PERSIAN PROSE
of written text.20 There is no mistaking that the Arab privileging

of poetry, oratory (khatâbe), and the inherent promotion of lyrical
and rhyming values would come to manifest itself meaningfully in
the form of saj’ (rhymed prose).21 Scribal manuals and literary epis-
tolographic texts certainly operated in the same orbit, but signifi-
cant overlapping did not really take place until later in the Abbasid
period. At some point in the early 10th century, prose writing in
the epistolographic form went beyond administrative necessity and
would become a noted literary objective for courtiers and scribes.
This period is also crucial for the development of Arabic poetry
and prose. With the advent of “modern” poets and literati of the
Abbasid court—e. g., Abu-Novâs (d. 198/814), Bashshâr b. Bord (d.
167/784)—debate erupted with traditionalists who advocated the
poetry of the “ancient” Arabs. This debate was best reified in the
work of Abd-Allâh Ebn-al-Mo’tazz (d. 296/908), notably the Ketâb
al-badi’. The “new style” promoted by Ebn-al-Mo’tazz was com-
mitted to carving out an unprecedented space in the poetic tradi-
tion; he identified and highlighted a number of literary devices (es-
te’âre, metaphor; tajnis, paronomasia; tebâq, antithesis; radd a’ jâz
al-kalâm alâ’l-sodur, internal repetition; al-madhhab al-kalâmi,
dialecticism), which he suggested had been in use by the “ancient”
poets but it was only with the Abbasid era that they were devel-
oped into an acceptable literary doctrine of sorts.22 It is with the
poet/scribe Qodâma b. Ja’far (his disputed death-dates range from
319/932 to 336/948), however, that we find a remarkable confluence
between the ongoing debates in Arabic poetry and new literary
proclivities within the epistolographic forum. It is in his Ketâb al-
kharâj va senâ’at al-ketâbe (Book of Land Taxes and the Crafts of
Writing) that we find the first consistent use of the term enshâ’ and
20 Jonathan Bloom, Paper before Print: The History and Impact of Paper in
the Islamic World (New Haven, 2001), p. 12. The term “calligraphic state”
is borrowed from Brinkley Messick’s The Calligraphic State: Textual Dom-
ination and History in a Muslim Society (Berkeley, 1993).
21 Latham, “The Beginnings of Arabic Prose Literature,” p. 154.
22 K. Abu Deeb, “Literary Criticism,” in J. Ashtiany, T. M. Johnstone, J. D.
Latham, R. B. Serjeant, and G. R. Smith, eds., ʿAbbasid Belles Lettres (Cam-
bridge, 1990), p. 347.
8
the crystallization of an idea that epistolography was morphing

in conjunction with poetry23; the only surviving portions of this
work (contained in a unique manuscript in the Köprülü Library),
the 5 th to the 8 th manzele, include linguistic usage, literary tradi-
tions, and the model titulatures (alqâb) needed for writing official
missives.24 Moreover, Qodâma b. Ja’far also produced analytical
treatments of the ancient-modern debate as well as treatments of
literary devices and phrases with Naqd al-she’r (Poetic Criticism)
and Ketâb al-alfâz (Book of Vocables).25
Arabic prose would also be indelibly changed by the philosoph-
ical climate of the 9 th–10th centuries. In a response to the logicians
and philosophers of the Mu’tazilite movement, supporters of the
inimitability of the Qur’an fell to the task of standardizing and
classifying Arabic. What emerged, as the “science of rhetoric” (elm
al-balâghe) and the various classes of language that came with it,
were forged first and foremost in the kiln of Qur’anic studies. In-
triguingly, however, it was also in this period that translators were
actively transmitting Aristotelian texts like the Rhetoric; moreover,
Aristotle’s Rhetoric and Poetics were appended by translators in
the Abbasid era as natural additions to the Organon along with
Categories, De Interpretatione, Prior and Posterior Analytics, Top-
ics, and Sophistical Refutations. As Deborah Black helpfully argues,
Aristotelian commentators like al-Fârâbi, Ebn-Sinâ, and Ebn-Ro-
shd saw Rhetoric and Poetics essentially through the lens of logi-
cal inquiry. In this sense, rhetoric26 and poetry, while admittedly
23 Gully, The Culture of Letter-Writing, pp. 11–12.

24 S. A. Bonebakker, “Ḳudāma b. Djaʿfar al-Kātib al-Baghdādī, Abu’l-Faradj,”
in EI2 , V, pp. 318–22.
25 Wolfhart P. Heinrichs, “Rhetoric and Poetics,” in EAL, p. 653.
26 In Aristotelian terms, some philosophers like al-Fârâbi made the distinc-
tion that oratory (khatâbe) was a part of rhetoric (balâghe): As Aouad
quoted: “La rhetorique (rethorica) est une certaine [faculté] oratoire (ora-
toria), le rhéteur (rethor) un certain orateur (orator)…langage oratoire n’est
pas un discours, ni tout orateur un rhéteur.” See Maroun Aouad, “Balāgha:
Rhetorique aristotelicienne (rethorica) et faculté oratoire (oratoria/balāgha)
selon les Didascalia in ‘Rethoricam (sic!)’ Aristotelis ex glosa Alpharabii,” in
B. Gruendler, ed., Classical Arabic Humanities in Their Own Terms: Fest-
schrift for Wolfhart Heinrichs (Leiden, 2008), p. 41.
9
PERSIAN PROSE
different with respect to tools of persuasion, were nonetheless

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

Arabic Philosophy (Leiden, 1990), p. 14 a.
28 Heinrichs, “Rhetoric and Poetics,” pp. 653–54.
29 Muhsin al-Musawi, “Pre-Modern Belletristic Prose,” in R. Allen and D. S.
Richards, eds., Arabic Literature in the Post-Classical Period (Cambridge,
2006), p. 104.
10
insisted that this practice was inherited from pre-Islamic soothsay-

ers (kâhens).30 Nonetheless, prominent Buyid-era literati argued
passionately for the acceptance of prose as a medium of literary
expression. Abu-Eshâq Sâbi’ (d. 384/984), chief of the Buyid chan-
cellery, described how meaning (ma’nâ) was obscured in poetry,
but that epistolary prose was relatively clear as a result of being
free of the constraints of poetic meter.31 More mediating positions
were shown by the “Jâhez of Nishapur,” the Iranian Abu-Mansur
Abd-al-Malek b. Mohammad Tha’âlebi (d. 429/1038), in his Nathr
al-nazm va hall al-eqd (Prosification of Poetry and the Untying
of the Knot); 32 likewise, other works of Tha’âlebi such as al-Mon-
tahhal and Khâss al-khâss were explicit attempts to highlight the
importance of poetry in epistolography.33 An even more inclusive
approach was adopted by his Iranian-born contemporary Abu-
Helâl Askari (d. 400/1009), whose Ketâb al-senâ’ateyn: al-ketâbe
va’l-she’r (Book of Two Crafts: Prose and Poetry) placed prose on
par with poetry.34 Moreover, the 8th and 9th chapters addressed in
succession the practice of saj’ and ezdevâj (assonance doubling) in
prose and the larger practice of “style” (badi’).35
Recently, Vahid Behmardi has argued that the late 10th and early
11th centuries were especially critical in terms of Persian litterateurs
and secretaries working in Arabic prose. Examining the writings
of the celebrated Badi’-al-Zamân Hamadâni (d. 397/1007), Beh-
mardi demarcates the author’s categories of literature: a) memori-
zation and narrative, b) versification and prosody, c) prose writing
30 Devin Stewart, “Sajʿ in the Qur’ān: Prosody and Structure,” Journal of Ar-
abic Literature 21/2 (1990), p. 103.
31 Gully, The Culture of Letter-Writing, p. 82.
32 Al-Musawi, “Pre-Modern Belletristic Prose,” p. 105; Bilal Orfali, “The
Works of Abū Manṣūr al-Thaʿālibī (350–429/961–1039),” Journal of Arabic
Literature 40 (2009), p. 274.
33 Gully, The Culture of Letter-Writing, p. 32.
34 Al-Musawi, “Pre-Modern Belletristic Prose,” p. 104; Beatrice Gruendler,
“al-ʿAskarī, Abū Hilâl,” in EI3, II, pp. 163–64.
35 Abu-Hilâl Hasan b. Abd-Allâh b. Sahl Askari, Ketâb al-senâ’ateyn
al-ketâbat wa’l-she’r, eds., A. M. al-Bijâwi and M. A. Ebrâhim (Cairo, 1952),
pp. 260–65, 266–463.
11
PERSIAN PROSE
and epistolography, and d) improvisation.36 By the early 11th cen-

tury, prose texts like Hamadâni’s Maqâmât had become suffused
with various rhyming devices, and as such the rhetorical principles
of badi’ which had been set into motion by the “modern poets”
(mohdathun), and standardized and popularized thanks to Ebn-
al-Mo’tazz, were now finding representation in prose, and specif-
ically in epistolographic prose. Arabic epistolography was rich in
technical prose and poetry during the Buyid period, and the let-
ters of prominent Iranian chancery officials/literati like Sâheb b.
Abbâd (d. 385/995), Abu-Eshâq Sâbi’ (d. 384/994), Abd-al-Aziz b.
Yusof Shirâzi, and Abu’l-Fazl Ebn-al-Amid have attracted healthy
interest in scholarship.37 As Heinrichs has pointed out, the intense
debates about the growing interdependence of poetry and prose
during the 10 th–11th centuries would be later absorbed into the
larger “science of rhetoric” (elm al-balâghe) which would emerge
by the end of the 14th century thanks to Abd-al-Qâher Jorjâni’s
(d. 471/1078) Asrâr al-balâghe (Secrets of Eloquence), Abu-Ya’qub
Yusof Sakkâki’s (d. 626/1229) Meftâh al-olum (Key to the Sciences),
Jalâl-al-Din Qazvini’s (d. 739/1338) Talkhis al-Meftâh (Refinement
to the Key [to the Sciences]), and Sa’d-al-Din Mas’ud b. Omar
b. Abd-Allâh Taftâzâni’s (d. 793/1390) Sharh‑e Meftâh al-olum
(Commentary on Key to the Sciences).38
Arabic prose, and its epistemological proximity with poetry,
seems to have flourished among Iranian litterateurs and epistolog-
raphers during the Buyid period. On this point, Behmardi has sug-
gested that these scholar-bureaucrats were especially attracted to
36 Vahid Behmardi, “Rhetorical Values in Buyid Persia According to Badîʿ al-

Zamân al-Hamadhânî,” in L. Behzadi and V. Behmardi, eds., The Weaving
of Words: Approaches to Classical Arabic Prose (Beirut, 2009), p. 157.
37 Klaus Hachmeier, “Private Letters, Official Correspondence: Buyid Inshâ’
as a Historical Source,” Journal of Islamic Studies 13/2 (2002), pp. 125–54;
Mark van Damme, “Les Sources écrites concernant l’oeuvre du secrétaire
buyide Abû Ishâq As-Sâbi’” in M. Galley and D. R. Marshall, eds., Actes
du premier congrès d’études des cultures méditerranéenes d’influence Ara-
bo-Berbère (Algiers, 1973), pp. 175–81; and J. C. Bürgel, Die Hofkorrespon-
denz ‘Adud ad-Daulas und ihr Verhältnis zur anderen historischen Quellen
der frühen Buyiden (Wiesbaden, 1965).
38 Heinrichs, “Rhetoric and Poetics,” p. 651.
12
prose (nathr) and correspondence (tarassol) where they could fully

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

40 A. I. Sabra, “Al-Khwārazmī, Abū ʿAbd Allāh Muḥammad b. Aḥmad b. Yū-
suf al-Kātib,” in EI2 , IV, p. 1068.
41 Quoted in Behmardi, “Rhetorical Values in Buyid Persia,” p. 154.
42 Al-Musawi, “Pre-Modern Belletristic Prose,” p. 104.
43 Behmardi, “Rhetorical Values in Buyid Persia,” p. 158.
13
PERSIAN PROSE
rhetorical figures like tajnis (paronomasia), tashbih (simile), es-

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

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

The Saljuq and Khwarazmian Era (1100–1200)50
The apogee of the Great Saljuqs, and the resulting fragmentation

into various sultanates from Anatolia to Afghanistan, was un-
doubtedly critical for the emergence of New Persian. The Saljuq
state and the appendages which emerged from it were committed
to cultivating the caesaropapist ideology associated with ancient
Persianate culture; their sponsorship of statesmen, poets, histo-
rians, litterateurs, and adibs was in turn designed to dilute their
steppe origins and buttress their legitimacy as divinely-sanctioned,
sophisticated monarchs. This mandate to chronicle and lion-
ize their Turkic patrons gave Iranian bureaucrat-scholars ample
49 Hellmut Ritter, Über die Bildersprache Nizamis (Berlin, 1927), Benedikt
Reinert, “Probleme der vormonglischen arabisch-persischen Poesiegemein-
schaft und ihr Reflex in der Poetik,” in G. E. von Grunebaum, ed., Arabic
Poetry: Theory and Development (Wiesbaden, 1973), pp. 71–105, de Bruijn,
“Badiʿ (1),” p. 376.
50 It should be noted that there are a few discrete enshâ’ works from this era
which are not analyzed meaningfully here. This was either due to their lack
of availability, or to the fact that they contained unsubstantial prefatory sec-
tions. The best known would be the anonymous Mokhtârât men al-rasâ’el,
eds. Irâj Afshâr and Gholâm-Rezâ Tâher (Tehran, 1999). For lesser known,
unpublished sources, see Mohammad-Taqi Dâneshpazhuh, “Dabiri va ne-
visandagi,” in Nâder Motallabi-Kâshâni and Sayyed Mohammad Hoseyn
Mar’ashi, eds., Hadith-e eshq: Dâneshpazhuh dar qalamrow-e jostâr-hâ-ye
noskhe-hâ-ye khatti (Tehran, 2002), pp. 163–64.
15
PERSIAN PROSE
opportunity to negotiate the nascent (re-)emergence of the New

Persian language in both prose and poetry form. Indeed, it could
be argued that the association of Persian culture with long-stand-
ing notions of absolutist monarchy, and the prestige of political
exemplars in Iranian “mythistory” like Afrâsiyâb, Jamshid, Dar-
ius, Alexander the Great, and Khosrow, played no small role in the
Saljuqs’ decision to promote the use of Persian in poetic circles and
administrative enclaves.
Paraphrasing Mohammad-Taqi Bahâr’s Sabk-shenâsi yâ tatav-
vor‑e nathr‑e Fârsi (pub. 1942), Jan Rypka periodized prose devel-
opment in terms of ornamentation and generous use of metaphors
and artifice.51 While Samanid-era prose is characterized as relatively
unadorned (e. g. Bal’ami’s translation of Tabari), the “first” Saljuq
period (450–550/1058–1155) was noted for its proximity to Arabic
(e. g., Beyhaqi’s Târikh), and the prose of the “second” Saljuq (and
Khwarazmian) period (550–600/1155–1203) in turn demonstrated
consistent use of parallelism, rhyme, artifice, and rhetorical simi-
les (e. g. the Marzbân-nâme) in Persian.52 The degree to which the
Saljuq state may have exhibited an interest in this growing stylistic
embellishment has also affected how modern scholars have inter-
preted the nature of rhetoric in Persian prose and poetry. Kenneth
Allin Luther argued that the embellished style of Saljuq-sponsored
chancellery officials was a result of a lack of control by the Saljuq
rulers themselves; moreover, prose writers were allegedly driven
to excessive prolixity on account of admonitions from a discrete
number of key Persian enshâ’ manuals.53 Julie Meisami countered
this characterization, arguing that many 12th–13th century authors
were quite condemnatory of hyperbole and ornate prose, and that
it would be more accurate to assign culpability for such trends
to, not the early Saljuqs, but to the Khwarazmian enfant terrible,
51 Jan Rypka, “Geschichte der Neupersischen Literatur bis zum Beginn des
20. Jahrhunderts,” in Jan Rypka, ed., Iranische Literaturgeschichte (Leipzig,
1959), pp. 122–23.
52 Rypka, “Geschichte der Neupersischen Literatur,” p. 122.
53 K. Allin Luther, “Islamic Rhetoric and the Persian Historians, 1000–1300
A. D.,” in J. A. Bellamy, ed., Studies in Near Eastern Culture and History in
Memory of Ernest T. Abdel-Massih (Ann Arbor, 1990), pp. 90–98.
16
Rashid-al-Din Vatvât.54 Literary personalities of this period were

certainly alive to the issue that this was a period of unprecedented
change for the Perso-Islamic world, and there seems to be good ev-
idence to suggest that poets and rhetoricians were quick to caution
against unnecessary verbosity and overindulgence in the practice
of saj’.55 Moreover, Luther’s suggestion that epistolographers were
brassbound by the strictures of a few key enshâ’ didactic works
does not reasonably account for the fact that new manuals were
constantly being produced in the medieval period to augment, and
in some cases replace, existing epistolographic standards and prac-
tices. Moreover, Luther’s point that the creative output of monshis
across the central and eastern Islamic lands was somehow prede-
termined and prefigured by a discrete number of earlier chancel-
lery manuals seems overly reductive.
Dastur‑e dabiri by Mohammad b. Abd-al-Khâleq Meyhani

(d. ca. 576/118056)
Mohammad b. Abd-al-Khâleq Meyhani’s Dastur‑e dabiri (Man-

ual of Secretary Craft), compiled in 585/1190, stands undoubtedly
as the best example of an enshâ’ manual designed to assist Perso-
phone chancellery scribes in making the transition from epistolary
Arabic to Persian enshâ’. It is clear that Meyhani introduces his
work in a relatively straightforward manner, with a short preface
and then a section styled as onvânât which makes up the first of
two qesms in the Dastur‑e dabiri.57 According to Meyhani, “what
54 Julie Scott Meisami, “History as Literature,” Ir St 33/1–2 (2000), pp. 26–27.
55 Sakkâki and Taftâzâni were well known for their acerbic treatment of prose
devices like saj’; Stewart, “Sajʿ in the Qur’ān,” pp. 104–7.
56 It should be noted that Hâshem Rajabzâde, the author of the EIr entry
“Dastur‑e dabiri,” states that the work was compiled in 585/1190. The edi-
tor of Dastur‑e dabiri, Ali Bahâbâdi, suggests that his death must have oc-
curred sometime between 576–85/1179–90; see Mohammad b. Abd-al-Khâ-
leq Meyhani, Dastur‑e dabiri, ed. Ali Bahâbâdi (Yazd, 1996), p. davâzde.
57 Qesm‑e avval (“on preliminaries”; dar onvânât) runs from pages 2–38,
while qesm‑e dovvom (“on letters”; dar nâme-hâ) constitutes the bulk of
the work and runs from pages 41–203.
17
PERSIAN PROSE
they call onvânât [refers to] rules and etiquettes and introductions
to this craft;” moreover, given that he focuses overtly in the sec-
tion on how to shift from Arabic spelling to Persian equivalents
and other relatively rudimentary points, the closest approximate
sense to onvânât here would be something akin to “beginnings,”
or perhaps “preliminaries.”58 The untitled preface describes how
he was petitioned by a “dear friend” (dusti aziz) to produce this
current epistolographic work. The brevity of this unnamed “ded-
ication” is noticeable, and the fact that Meyhani’s patron does not
appear to have been a major political or administrative figure is
quite exceptional. Divided into two sections (qesms), the Dastur‑e
dabiri focuses on a) the customs of this craft (senâ’at) and b) the
premises (maqâsed) associated with the arts (fonun) of letters and
responses. Following these qesms, several decrees (methâls) are ap-
pended to illustrate the “craft of accounting” (senâ’at‑e estifâ’), and
the conclusion consists of more methâls regarding financial details
of trusts (vethâ’eq‑e mohâsebât) and juridical decisions (sokuk‑e
shar’i).59
What constitutes “preliminaries” is thoroughly quotidian and
clinical: the need for proper tools such as pens, papers, inkpots,
how one should keep such things in good and proper working
order, and so on; a writer should not write hastily, and sufficient
space should be allowed between lines of writing.60 Meyhani gives
explicit advice on the mechanics of writing on blank paper towards
avoiding common errors in orthography and to avoid conflation
of written lines (satrs).61 He insists on proper inflection and use of
diacritics, making the rather self-evident point that the meaning
of words with missing dots can be misunderstood, among other
points.62 Noqtes on scribal mechanics associated with a document’s
58 Meyhani, Dastur‑e dabiri, p. 1.
59 Meyhani, Dastur‑e dabiri, pp. 1–2.
62 Meyhani also points out how Persian scribes should be alert to the fact
that certain Arabic letters (horuf‑e tâzi) do not exist in the spoken Per-
sian language, and this can contribute to clerical errors in orthography; for
instance, the letters sâd and tâ’ have often been interchanged. There are a
number of other rudimentary grammatical points made here, such as the
18
inscriptio, the alqâb, the affixing of dates, blessings, and the con-
clusion are also discussed in somewhat superficial terms.63 Inter-
estingly, Meyhani sees the development of enshâ’ mechanics in
strictly historical parameters, and narrates a number of epistolary
practices and features which were connected with specific episodes
in Islamic history. For instance, he spends considerable attention
on the issue of konyes, namely how the use of konyes (e. g. designa-
tion of father [abu] or son [ebn]) came about after Arabs and Per-
sians had brokered peace, how konyes were designated for people
who did not know their family history, what to do with konyes
for Turks, Hindus, Byzantine Greeks (Rumiyân), and Afghans
(Ghuriyân), and the konyes of those who are recently manumitted
from slavery.64 The second section (qesm) of Dastur‑e dabiri show-
cases a taxonomy of model letters (e. g. sadr-nâme [official decree],
nâme-ye vasiyat [testament], ekhvâniyât [private letters])65 as well
as model decrees to various officials (e. g. manshur‑e riyâsat [gov-
ernor decree], vazâ’ef‑e râ’es [official appointments], manshur‑e
qozzât [judicial decree], manshur‑e shehne [police order]).66
The mandate of Meyhani is ostensibly dedicated to introducing
scribes to the epistolary arts and providing some insights—bol-
stered by model correspondence—for 12th-century chancellery
functionaries. A distinctly mechanistic quality shadows this work,
and we cannot help but see the Dastur‑e dabiri as first and fore-
most a prose didactic work which eschews discussion of the ongo-
ing debates about prosody, rhetorical devices, and the meaning of
language that were known to be taking place in Arabic literature,
and to a lesser extent at this time and juncture, in Persian prose
and poetry. The simplicity of the preface, and the highlighting of a
distinctly utilitarian ethos, underscores the degree to which early
Persian use of hâ as plural markers for inanimate objects and gân for living
creatures, and the elision of titles in onomastics whereby there are names
like “Khwârazmshâh” which do not necessarily denote that someone is a
“king of Khwârazm,” and so on. Meyhani, Dastur‑e dabiri, pp. 3–5.
19
PERSIAN PROSE
New Persian prose, and specifically enshâ’ writing, was still in a

relative state of development at this stage of Saljuq history.
Ketâb‑e atabat al-katabe (compiled shortly after 528/1133)

by Montajab-al-Din Badi’ Joveyni67
The next enshâ’ text is the Ketâb‑e atabat al-katabe (Book [Re-
garding] the Ranks of Writing) penned by a scion of one of the
greatest medieval Iranian families of bureaucrats: Montajab-al-Din
Badi’ Joveyni.68 In contrast to Meyhani, Joveyni was a respected
administrator and adib in the eyes of near-contemporaries, and
one who could boast a genealogical pedigree back to Fazl b. Rabi’,
the chamberlain and advisor to Hârun-al-Rashid; Owfi also makes
detailed note of his impact in his Lobâb al-albâb.69 Joveyni’s career
was a peripatetic one, but he is best known for his role as chancery
chief during the reign of Sanjar (511–51/1118–53).
The story of how Joveyni conceives of enshâ’ is as much a nar-
rative about himself and his relationship with epistolography as it
is an analysis of enshâ’ as a genre. Joveyni describes his preoccu-
pation with this craft from a young age; moreover, he learned from
eminent scholars and established authorities that an ancestor of
his had been a secretary to Shams-al-Ma’âli Qâbus b. Vashmgir (d.
403/1012).70 A collection of Arabic epistles (rasâ’el‑e tâzi) came into
his possession at some point, and he dedicated himself to the study
67 Montajab-al-Din Badi’ Joveyni, Ketâb‑e atabat al-katabe, eds. Moham-

mad Qazvini and Abbâs Eqbâl (Tehran, 1950).
68 The only study that I know of that works intensively with the Atabat al-ka-
tabe is Ann K. S. Lambton’s “The Administration of Sanjar’s Empire as Il-
lustrated in the ʿAtabat al-Kataba,” BSOAS 20/1 (1957), pp. 367–88. See
also the introduction to the Russian translation by G. M. Kurpalidisa and
and O. F. Akimushkin, Stupeni soveršenstvovania katibov (Moscow, 1985).
See also Ann K. S. Lambton, Continuity and Change in Medieval Persia:
Aspects of Administrative, Economic and Social History, 11th –14th Century
(Albany, 1988), p. 305.
69 Sadid-al-Din Mohammad Owfi, Lobâb al-albâb, eds., E. G. Browne and M.
Qazvini, (2 vols., Leiden, 1903–6), I, pp. 78–80.
70 Montajab-al-Din Joveyni, Ketâb‑e atabat al-katabe, p. 2.
20
of enshâ’ while in the service of Sultan Sanjar in his empire’s capital

Marv after 516/1120.71 He made his way subsequently to Ghazna
and ultimately served in the divân‑e enshâ’ under a sepahsâlâr
named Amir Ezz-al-Din Anar.72 He was eventually promoted to
chief chancellery official in light of his ability to write letters in
both Arabic and Persian, while Joveyni makes note of how Ezz-
al-Din Anar was inordinately interested in the epistolographic arts
and its various intricacies.73 When his patron passed away, Joveyni
made his way to Mazandaran and then to Tus/Mashhad where
he appears to have entered the service of a local governor, Atâbeg
Il-Lamash. He talks openly of his tormented relationship with the
epistolographic sciences while in Mashhad; however, this episte-
mological languishing may simply be a metaphor of sorts for his
unheralded status as a monshi at this stage of his career. He nar-
rates how a letter arrived to his patron from “a great scholar of
the age” that abounded in “eloquent metaphors” and “deep and
beautiful words and meaning;” he was charged to study this mis-
sive and answer it with equal rhetorical skill and subtlety.74 Jov-
eyni dedicated himself to the task, and his patron was suitably im-
pressed; fellow scribes in the court praised the maktub, Il-Lamash
ordered that it be copied by the mostowfi, and “the scribe of Bey-
haq” (kâteb‑e Beyhaq) sent a copy to Beyhaqi’s children.75 From
this point forward, Joveyni’s praises as a monshi were sung wide
and far (according to him, at least), and he attributes this turn in
fortune to his proximity to the shrine of Ali and the Imam’s inter-
vention. His big break came sometime after 524/1130 when he was
asked to write a fath-nâme (“letter of conquest”) to celebrate Sul-
tan Sanjar’s capture of Samarqand and his installation of Khâqân
Hasan Tekin; this fath-nâme was to be sent with the envoy Amir‑e

72 David Durand-Guédy, Iranian Elites and Turkish Rulers: A History of Iṣ-
fahān in the Saljūq Period (London, 2010), p. 255 makes reference to an
Ezz-al-Din in Esfahan during roughly the same period.
21
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Ajall Âlam Beg Ali to Baghdad to formally inform the Abbasid

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

22
gharaz) into the wilderness of ineffectual prolixity and hyperbole.81

Ultimately, rhetoric (balâghat) is in “the ease of form and the sim-
plicity of meaning” (salâsat‑e lafz va e’ jâz‑e ma’ni).
Meaning in writing (ma’âni-ye sokhan) has been expressed dif-
ferently with respect to style and metaphors throughout human
history, and it is with the robes and clothing (me’râz va lebâs) of
writing that the sciences of medicine, trade, engineering and the
arts have been dressed. Joveyni is undoubtedly alive to the hetero-
geneity and ecumenical nature of culture and language, describing
how the “languages of Hebrew, Syriac, and Pahlavi” were amal-
gamated under the Arabic faith, and joined with all the languages
and literary arrangements of the preceding tribes of ancient Iran.82
The ensuing “Arabic style” (balâghat‑e tâzi) dominated letters and
correspondence to such an extent that the courts of the Samanids,
Daylamis, and Saffarids started promoting the writing of Persian.83
In this way, the Persian language became a sellable commodity, and
manshurs (decrees), ahds (treaties), and resâlât (letters) became com-
mon among administrators. Despite this, Joveyni is clear: “whoever
studies the science of enshâ’ places his hand on the branch of the
tree of the Arabic language.”84 In sum, Joveyni’s untitled dibâche
informs our quest to understand the early development of Persian
enshâ’. Principally, it challenges Luther’s suggestion that apathetic
Turkic Saljuq sultans allowed freewheeling monshis and literati to
indulge their prolix inclinations; to the contrary, Joveyni’s preface
here suggests that a) Turkish elite personalities, like Ezz-al-Din
Anar, worked closely with their Iranian chancellery officials, and
b) excessive hyperbole, especially in the form of saj’, was frowned
upon. This aside, the imperative by Buyid-era rhetoricians and lit-
terateurs to advocate the use of prose writing was clearly carried
over into the Saljuq period, and Joveyni’s highlighting of this genre
is telling in this regard. Most profound, however, is how the Atabat
al-katabe connected the emergence and popularity of New Persian
with chancellery writing in the courts of the Samanids, Daylamites,
23
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and Saffarids, and not exclusively with the genre of poetry85; more-
over, it would appear that the Atabat al-katabe and the rise of
Persian enshâ’ writing indicates an increasing general interest in
Persian literature in the 12th-century Persianate world under rulers
like Sanjar.86 Also, Joveyni reflects a linguistic ecumenism which
eschews typical orthodox views of the emergence of Arabic. For
him, formative Islamic civilization was directly associated with the
7th–8th-century hybridization of the Arabic, Hebrew, Syriac, and
Pahlavi languages as well as the preexisting literary traditions of
Sasanian Iran.
Al-Tavassol elâ’l-tarassol by Bahâ’-al-Din Mohammad b.

Mo’ayyed Baghdâdi (d. 588/1192)87
Arguably the most famous enshâ’ work of the Saljuq/Khwaraz-

mian period is Mohammad b. Mo’ayyad Bahâ’-al-Din Baghdâdi’s
al-Tavassol elâ’l-tarassol (Mediation into Letter-Writing).88 Un-
like the previous authors, Baghdâdi’s fame emerged under the
auspices of the Khwarazmshahs, specifically Alâ’-al-Din Takesh
b. Arslân (r. 568–96/1172–1200); the bulk of the documents repli-
cated are from the years 578–79/1182–84.89 Later enshâ’ compilers
like Mo’in-al-Din Mohammad Zamchi Esfezâri and Mohammad
b. Hendushâh Nakhjavâni make note of the impact of Baghdâdi,
while contemporaries and near-contemporaries (Owfi, Sa’d-al-
Din Varâvini) wrote enthusiastically about his epistolary prose
85 Horst, Die Staatsverwaltung der Grosselǧūqen und Ḫōrazmšāhs, pp. 3–4,

notes the predominance of Persophones in terms of chancellery develop-
ment in eastern Iran.
86 F. C. De Blois, “Saldjūḳids: VII. Literature: 1. In Persia and ʿIrāḳ,” in EI2 ,
VIII, p. 971.
87 Bahâ’-al-Din Mohammad b. Mo’ayyed Baghdâdi, al-Tavassol elâ‘l-tarassol,
ed. Ahmad Bahmânyâr (Tehran, 1936).
88 It should be noted that Baghdâdi is not actually from Baghdad. He was
born in Baghdâdak near Khwârazm.
89 Vladimir Minorsky, “Some Early Documents in Persian (I),” JRAS, 3 (1942),
p. 183.
24
and poetry.90 The preface of the al-Tavassol elâ’l-tarassol is much

more sweeping with respect to its opening blessings of God, the
Prophet Mohammad, and Baghdâdi’s patron, Alâ’-al-Din Takesh.91
In parallel terms, Baghdâdi highlights his own creation of a new
text with God’s creation of the world, followed by a predictable
emphasis on the creation of humankind and its ability to use rea-
son and logic. Likewise, his praise of Soltan Alâ’-al-Din Takesh is
more consistent with the panegyric style of the poets, and repeat-
edly cites his inability to do proper justice to his qualities; as the
Hadith narrates, Mohammad thought of God and said “I cannot
praise You as You fully deserve.”92
Like Joveyni, Baghdâdi brings a narrative framework to his
preface, introducing his loyal service to Alâ’-al-Din and his ad-
vancement ultimately to the chancellery (divân‑e enshâ’). His ca-
reer as a monshi appeared to be flourishing—“my thoughts and
inclinations in the forms of letters and correspondence had spread
to all corners of the world”—and that his work and the work of
his father was hailed by all as unsurpassed. We know, however,
that Baghdâdi would become embroiled in court politics and was
imprisoned on two different occasions for lengthy terms, but the
dates for the first session are not clear.93 The Mongol-era histo-
rian Atâ-Malek Joveyni describes how Baghdâdi was imprisoned
during the fraternal civil war between Takesh and Soltan Moham-
mad b. Arslân sometime around 582/1186.94 In his prefatory nar-
rative to al-Tavassol elâ’l-tarassol, Baghdâdi describes how there
was news—from Egypt, and possibly connected with the famous
Iranian vizier and rhetorician serving Saladin, Emâd-al-Din Es-
fahâni (d. 1201)—that Baghdâdi had been conducting secret com-
munications.95 Whether he was already in prison, or imprisoned
90 Owfi, Lobâb al-albâb, I, p. 139; Sa’d-al-Din Varâvini, Marzbân-nâme, ed.

Mohammad Rowshan (2 vols., Tehran, 1976), I, p. 7.
91 Bahâ’-al-Din Baghdâdi, al-Tavassol elâ’l-tarassol, pp. 1–2.
92 Bahâ’-al-Din Baghdâdi, al-Tavassol elâ’l-tarassol, p. 2.
93 Z. Safa, “Bahā’-al-Din al-Baḡdādi,” in EIr, III, p. 430.
94 Atâ-Malek b. Mohammad Joveyni, Târikh‑e jahângoshâ, ed. M. A. Qazvini
(3 vols., repr. Tehran, 2010), II, p. 514.
25
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as a result of this, is not clear, but he certainly was in captivity

when grandees and notables demanded “copies of decrees and
personal correspondence which I had written.” He writes that he
never wrote the original letter, and that it was not included in any
of his personal papers; he alleges the use of “counterfeit coins of
writing” (naqd‑e nabâhare-ye sokhan) to sway “the opinion of the
assayers of knowledge” (nazr‑e nâqedân‑e ma’ârefe), while also
adding that this “trifling merchandise” (bazâ’at‑e mazje) had never
been sent to Egypt in the first place. Nonetheless, he describes how
his accusers could furnish proof that a letter had passed through
the borders; moreover, Baghdâdi’s correspondence was assembled
and collated, and the offending missive was inserted in the mid-
dle.96 Interestingly, a century earlier, Abu’l-Fazl Beyhaqi narrated
the famous trial and execution of the Ghaznavid vizier Hasanak,
who had been accused of being a Qarmatian on account of the fact
that he had passed through Egypt and accepted a robe from the
Fatimid caliph.97 Fabricating connections with the Fatimid state
seems to have been a useful means by which bureaucratic and
courtly rivals could impinge the reputation of a competitor. Bagh-
dâdi never names his accusers, but he was imprisoned (accord-
ing to the modern scholar Dhabih-Allâh Safâ) by the main vizier
Nezâm-al-Molk Shams-al-Din Heravi (d. 596/1199–1200) after a
fierce disagreement.98 Al-Tavassol elâ’l-tarassol was likely finished
after his release since the main dedicatee is Nezâm-al-Molk, and
is described in superlative terms: “he is the greatest of the Arabs
and the Persians” and the “most important minister in the east and
the west”; Baghdâdi also goes to great rhetorical length—using the
popular metaphors of gardens and justice—to highlight the mercy
and clemency of Nezâm-al-Molk.99

97 Abu’l-Fazl Beyhaqi, Târikh, tr. C. E. Bosworth and rev. M. Ashtiany as The
History of Beyhaqi (3 vols., Cambridge Mass., 2011), I, pp. 272–73; Marilyn
R. Waldman, Toward a Theory of Historical Narrative: A Case Study in the
Perso-Islamicate Historiography (Columbus, 1980), p. 167.
98 Safa, “Bahā’-al-Din Baḡdādi,” p. 430.
99 He also compares him to the famous Buyid vizier, Ebn-Abbâd; Bahâ’-al-
Din Baghdâdi, al-Tavassol elâ’l-tarassol, p. 7.
26
Following this testimony, Baghdâdi presents a section on the

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

27
PERSIAN PROSE
taqim). The religious metaphors continue as he describes how the

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

28
The pedestrian proclivities here and earlier sartorial references

suggest that Baghdâdi was at least sympathetic to mainstream Su-
fism as it existed in the 12th-century Persianate world. This inter-
pretation is cemented even further when we discover that he was
a brother of Majd-al-Din Baghdâdi (1149–1219), a prominent Sufi
shaikh and Kobravi theosophist of the 12th century.108 Ahmad
b. Omar Majd-al-Din Baghdâdi had been a disciple of Najm-al-
Din, the founder of the Kobravi Order, who had been styled as
vali-tarâsh (“Sculptor of Saints”) in light of his teaching of so many
important Sufi shaikhs in the 12 th century. Majd-al-Din Baghdâdi,
in turn, was the master of Najm-al-Din Râzi, and may very well
have taught the famous Sufi poet, Farid-al-Din Attâr.109 While
nothing is written of their early life together (other than that their
mother was a prominent physician110), we know that Majd-al-Din
had worked (like his brother) closely with the royal court and ad-
ministration in Khwarazm before embarking on the Sufi path.111
On the basis of this, it would be prudent to look at the language
and epistemology of the al-Tavassol elâ’l-tarassol in a new light.112
One cannot help but notice that the concluding line of the dibâche
108 His most famous work is the Tohfat al-barare fi masâ’el al-ashare, MS Teh-
ran, Majles Library, no. 589. A Persian translation and edition was made by
Mohammad-Bâqer Sâ’edi-Khorâsâni and Hoseyn Heydar Khâni Moshtâq-
Ali (Tehran, 1990). Majd-al-Din also authored a text entitled Resâle dar safar.
109 Muhammad Isa Waley, “A Kubrawī Manual of Sufism: The Fuṣūṣ al-adab
of Yaḥyā Bākharzī,” in L. Lewisohn, ed., The Legacy of Medieval Persian
Sufism (London, 1992), p. 291.
110 Annemarie Schimmel, Mystical Dimensions of Islam (Chapel Hill, N. C.,
1975), p. 430.
111 Despite Majd-al-Din’s adoption of the somber lifestyle of the Sufis, Jâmi
nonetheless notes how he had 20,000 gold dinars a year to spend on his
disciples and maintain his khânaqâh; Schimmel, Mystical Dimensions of
Islam, p. 238. Also Fritz Meier, citing a variety of primary and secondary
sources, discusses his affair with a woman of “high society” who may have
been the mother of the Khwārazmshah, his patron; see Fritz Meier, “Ein
Briefwechsel zwischen Šaraf ud-Dîn-i Balkhi und Maḡd ud-din-i Baḡdadi,”
in S. H. Nasr, ed., Mélanges offerts à Henry Corbin (Tehran, 1977), p. 324.
For a good biographical overview, see Hamid Algar, “Kobrawiya ii. The
Order,” in EIr, online edition.
112 Interestingly, Mahmud Fotuhi noted such Sufi proclivities in his article,
“Az motamakkin tâ kalâm‑e maghlub,” Naqd‑e adabi 3/10 (2010), pp. 52–53.
29
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appears to have been borrowed from Hojviri’s Kashf al-mahjub,

the first Persian prose treatise on Sufism from the 11 th century. We
are also intrigued by Bahâ’-al-Din Baghdâdi’s concluding remarks
on the rationalization of his title: “in the craft of epistolography, an
important mediation (vasilati bozorg) is strengthened by motive,”
and for this reason, the title of this work is al-Tavassol elâ’l-taras-
sol, or “Mediation into Letter-Writing.”113
Of course, Baghdâdi was partly drawn to this term on account
of its rhyming with tarassol, but the term tavassol is far more signif-
icant and complex than its rendering as “introduction” or “guide”
by modern scholars like Safâ and Rypka.114 In populist Sufi terms,
tavassol is broadly understood as intervention or intercession, and
as such is seen in light of shrine visitations and other ritual perfor-
mances by Sufis and other Muslims.115 However, it has a greater
ontological sense whereby Sufis advance their spiritual epistemol-
ogy through the active tavassol, or mediation, of departed prophets
and saints. Interestingly, Jâmi narrates in his Sufi saint hagiogra-
phy, the Nafahât al-ons, of how Bahâ’-al-Din’s famous Sufi brother
“saw the prophet in his dream and was informed by him that Ebn-
Sinâ wanted to reach God without my mediation, and I veiled him
with my hand, but he fell into the fire.”116 Bahâ’-al-Din Baghdâdi’s

114 Safa, “Bahā’-al-Din Baḡdādi,” p. 430; Jan Rypka, “Poets and Prose Writers
of the Lake Saljuq and Modern Periods,” in CHIr, V, p. 621.
115 Roman Loimeier, “Der dhikr: Zum sozialen Kontext eines religiösen Ritu-
als,” Der Islam 83/1 (2006), p. 170.
116 Abd-al-Rahmân Jâmi, Nafâhat al-ons min hazarât al-qods, ed. Mahdi
Towhidi-Pur (Tehran, 1958), p. 427. It is also interesting to note that at the
same time that Baghdâdi had been imprisoned in 582/1186–87 (and possibly
when the al-Tavassol elâ’l-tarassol was assembled), a famous story was cir-
culating in Khorâsân whereby one Shaikh Ahmad Badili was approached
by the citizens of Sabzavar to “intercede” (tavassol) on their behalf with
Soltân Shâh b. Il Arslân, who was besieging the city as part of his campaign
to overthrow Alâ’-al-Din Takesh. Shaikh Badili was one of the “special
saints” of the day (abdâl‑e zamâne), who was matchless in the sciences of
faith and truth, and it was thanks to his mediation that the city was spared.
Abdâl actually refers to one of a seven or, more commonly, forty-member
class of saints (owliyâ’). Joveyni, Târikh‑e jahângoshâ, II, p. 515. See also
Hamid Algar, “Badili, Shaykh Aḥmad,” in EIr III, p. 380.
30
use of his epistolography treatise to profile certain Sufi proclivi-

ties was also likely a reflection of his relationship with his literary
adversary, Rashid-al-Din Vatvât. We know already that Baghdâdi
had called into question Vatvât’s approach to enshâ’ on the basis of
his fondness for masnu’, or artificial writing. Vatvât’s most famous
work, Hadâ’eq al-sehr fi daqâ’eq al-she’r, is essentially a list of rhe-
torical devices used in poetry, and Van Gelder reduces this text as
simply an “inventory of badi’.”117 Vatvât promoted openly those
very devices—tarsi’ and tajnis, for instance, as well as metaphors
(este’ârât) and similes (tashbihât)—which Baghdâdi had denigrated
so caustically.118 However, Vatvât was also well-known among his
contemporaries for his staunch orthodoxy and criticism of philos-
ophy and practice; as Jan Rypka noted, “even less attractive is [Vat-
vat’s] religious fanaticism and contempt of philosophy.”119
The religious climate of the 12th-century Persianate world
was certainly dynamic, but there is no mistaking that the post-
Ghazalian Shafi’i-Ash’ari Muslim world was leery, if not openly
contemptuous, of any conception of science which was not rooted
in the Qur’anic and Prophetic traditions.120 Baghdâdi’s former nem-
esis and jailor, the Khwārazmian vizier Nezâm-al-Molk Shams-al-
Din Heravi, was an active patron of Shafi’i’s and used his personal
wealth and political will to build Shafi’i mosque complexes in Marv
and elsewhere at the expense of the “liberal” Hanafi community.121
While it would be unhelpful to draw firm delineations across this
manifold landscape of religion, philosophy, and literature, there
is good reason to see Rashid-al-Din Vatvât as part of the Shafi’i
tradition which was hostile to philosophy-rooted conceptions
of language which did not necessarily acknowledge the Divine
117 G. J. H. Van Gelder, Beyond the Line: Classical Arabic Literary Critics on
the Coherence and Unity of the Poem (Leiden, 1982), p. 141.
118 Horst, “Arabische Briefe der Ḫorazmšāhs an den Kalifenhof,” pp. 24–30,
makes note of Vatvât’s generous use of devices like tarsi’, tajnis, saj’, and
movâzane in his Arabic correspondence to the Abbasid caliphs.
119 Rypka, in HIL, p. 200.
120 Allesandro Bausani, “Religion in the Saljuq Period,” in CHIr, V, p. 287;
Wilferd Madelung, Religious Trends in Early Islamic Iran (Albany, 1988),
pp. 28–29.
121 Madelung, Religious Trends in Early Islamic Iran, p. 36.
31
PERSIAN PROSE
provenance of literary theory; the latter was a position which

tended to be popular among other groups of theosophical-minded,
and often Iranian, bureaucrat-scholars like Bahâ’-al-Din Baghdâdi.
Arâ’es al-khavâter va nafâ’es al-navâder122 by Rashid-al-

Din Vatvât (d. 578/1182–83)
Bahâ’-al-Din Baghdâdi’s rival, Rashid-al-Din Vatvât, had been

well positioned in the chancellery of the Khwârazmshah dynasty
for much of the 12th century. His own enshâ’ compilation, Arâ’es
al-khavâter va nafâ’es al-navâder (Brides of Thoughts and Pre-
cious Rarities), is organized on a linguistic basis with Arabic letters
comprising the first section and Persian missives making up the
second section. We know already that Vatvât was especially fond
of rhyming phrases (saj’) and other prose rhetorical devices; Horst
comments on this at length in his treatment of Vatvât’s Arabic epis-
tles, and a review of some sample letters sent to fellow-litterateurs
like Montajab-al-Din Joveyni certainly indicate that he was fond
of rhyming sets of vocabulary and took to inundating his episto-
lary texts with full and partial Qur’anic quotes (eqtebâs) as well as
Prophetic traditions.123 His dibâche to this work is not especially
noteworthy, and we find nothing in the way of larger rationale for
the elm‑e enshâ’, or theoretical discussions regarding the origins,
epistemology or ontology of prose writing. He praises God, intro-
duces himself as the author and “king of scribes” (malek al-kottâb)
122 It should be noted that no copy of Arâ’es al-khavâter wa nafâ’es al-navâder,

or his other collection (Abkâr al-afkâr fi’l-rasâ’el va al-ash’ âr), were lo-
catable. However, Qâsem Tuysarkâni edited and published the Persian let-
ters from these above compilations as Nâme-hâ-ye Rashid-al-Din Vatvât
(Tehran, 1960). The dibâche of pp. 2–3, according to the editor’s notes, was
taken directly from the Arâ’es al-khavâter. Translations of some of Vatvât’s
Arabic letters can be found in Heribert Horst, “Arabische Briefe der Ḫora-
zmšāhs an den Kalifenhof aus der Feder des Rašīd ad-Dīn Waṭwāṭ,” Zeit-
schrift der Deutschen Morgenländischen Gesellschaft 116 (1966), pp. 24–43.
123 Horst, “Arabische Briefe der Ḫorazmšāhs an den Kalifenhof,” pp. 25–30;
Rashid-al-Din Vatvât, Nâme-hâ-ye Rashid-al-Din Vatvât, pp. 33–34,
pp. 49–50, pp. 51–52, pp. 53–54, pp. 55–56, pp. 57–60, pp. 62–63.
32
and “master of the two eloquences” (dhu’l-bayâneyn, possibly a

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

Rashid-al-Din Vatvât, Nâme-hâ-ye Rashid-al-Din Vatvât, p. 2.
125 Horst, “Arabische Briefe der Ḫorazmšāhs an den Kalifenhof,” p. 37.
126 Madelung, Religious Trends in Early Islamic Iran, pp. 28–32.
127 Rashid-al-Din Vatvât, Nâme-hâ-ye Rashid-al-Din Vatvât, p. 63.
128 Abu’l-Fazl Beyhaqi, The History of Beyhaqi, I, p. 271.
33
PERSIAN PROSE
reification of greed and megalomania, in line with other infamous

viziers, looms large in medieval Persian historiography. However,
intersecting this relationship between Bu-Sahl‑e Zowzani and
Abu’l-Fazl Beyhaqi is the burgeoning tension in 11th-century Kho-
rasan among philosophical and legal constituencies. Abu’l-Fazl
Beyhaqi’s commitment to Shafi’ism was no secret, while Bu-Sahl‑e
Zowzani was likely a Hanafi on account of the fact that he had
helped his patron and lord, Mas’ud Ghaznavi, to promote officially
Hanafi scholarship in the eastern Islamic lands.129 Also intriguing,
however, are Beyhaqi’s comments that Bu-Sahl developed a closed
circle of intimacy with the secretaries Khwâje Tâher b. Abd-Allâh
and Bu’l-Hasan Erâqi, who had arrived recently from Buyid em-
ployment in Rayy; with this, in combination with various indica-
tors that Bu-Sahl‑e Zowzani may have had Alid connections, we
wonder if Beyhaqi and other Shafi’is had suspicions about some
sort of Mu’tazilite-Shi’ite inclination.130 The combination of using
onomastic historical exemplars within multiple narratives was rel-
atively common among litterateurs and historians;131 in this way,
Vatvât’s juxtaposition of the neutering dabir Ahmad Zowzani (full
of “sin and vice”) with the suffering yet noble Othmân Beyhaqi
was no subtle invocation of another famous cruel and iniquitous
bureaucratic figure of dubious religious convictions being contra-
posed with a model Shafi’i scholar and adib of good standing. Wil-
ferd Madelung suggested that Khwarazm could continue to host
Mu’tazilite elements well into the Saljuq and Khwarazmshah pe-
riods132; while certainly tentative as a suggestion, it is conceivable
that Vatvât was using onomastic rhetorical tools as a means of cas-
tigating his contemporary Zowzani as a pseudo-Mu’tazilite.
129 Madelung, Religious Trends in Early Islamic Iran, pp. 28–29.

130 Jamâl Rezâ’i, “Bu Sahl‑e Zowzani dar Târikh‑e Beyhaqi,” in Yâd-nâme-ye
Abu’l-Fazl‑e Beyhaqi (Mashhad, 1971), p. 221; see Bosworth’s footnote 126
in Beyhaqi, Târikh‑e Beyhaqi, tr., III, p. 129.
131 Meisami, “History as Literature,” pp. 24–25; idem, “Eleventh-Century
Women: Evidence from Bayhaqi’s History,” in G. Nashat and L. Beck, eds.,
Women in Iran From the Rise of Islam to 1800 (Urbana-Champagne, Ill.,
2003), pp. 94–95.
132 Madelung, Religious Trends in Early Islamic Iran, p. 38.
34
3. Innovative Impulses:
The Mongol Era (1250–1400)133
The Mongol era of the late 13th and 14th centuries was equally signifi-
cant with respect to the development of Persian poetic and prose lit-
erature. The Mongols would likewise come to patronize and sponsor
Iranian religious intelligentsia and bureaucrat-scholars to assist them
in assembling a chimera-like system of governance; Turco-Mongol
aspects of law and customary administration were amalgamated
with the Perso-Islamic model that had been developed in the 11th
and 12th centuries. In this sense, Persian literature would continue to
dominate bureaucracies (davânin) and courtly assemblies (majâles).
Rowzat al-kottâb va hadiqat al-albâb by Abu-Bakr Ebn-al-

Zaki Motatabbeb Qonavi (ca. 678/1279)134
Our first Persian epistolographic text being considered here, the Row-
zat al-kottâb va hadiqat al-albâb (Garden of Scribes and Orchard
of Intellects) by Abu-Bakr Ebn-al-Zaki Motatabbeb Qonavi (d. ca.
133 As in the earlier Saljuq section, there are enshâ’ works from this era which
are not analyzed meaningfully here. This was either due to their lack of
availability, or the fact that they contained unsubstantial prefatory sections.
Exceptions include Falak-Alâ’ Abd-Allâh b. Ali Tabrizi’s Resâle-ye fala-
kiyye (706/1306), Mohammad-Hajji b. Mahmud Bokhâri-Sa’idi’s Meftâh
al-enshâ’, Sharaf-al-Din Fazl-Allâh Qazvini’s al-Tarassol al-nasriyye,
Ghiyâth-al-Molk Esmâ’il b. Nezâm-al-Molk Abarquhi’s Tohfe-ye bahâ’i
(746/1345), Zâher-al-Din Mohammad b. Mahmud b. Hamze Fâryâbi’s
Dastur al-enshâ’ (c. 761/1359), and Mo’in-al-Din Ali b. Jalâl-al-Din Mo-
hammad Abbâse-ye Shâhrestâni-Yazdi’s (d. 780/1387) untitled work on the
rules and customs of enshâ’. For details on manuscript copies and locations,
see Dâneshpazhuh, “Dabiri va nevisandagi,” pp. 164–66. Some of these
have been published, and such enshâ’ works were profiled in a special series
of the bibliographical monthly, Ketâb‑e mâh—târikh va jogrâfiyâ. For dis-
cussion of specific enshâ’ sources that have been published, see Nasr-Allâh
Sâlehi, “Ketâb-shenâsi-ye towsifi-ye monsha’ât, mokâtebât, va nâme-hâ,”
Ketâb‑e mâh—târikh va jogrâfiyâ 5 (2002), pp. 55–152.
134 Abu-Bakr Ebn-al-Zaki, Rowzat al-kottâb va hadiqat al-albâb, ed. Ali Se-
vim as Ravżat al-Kuttāb va Ḥadīḳat al-Albāb (Ankara, 1972).
35
PERSIAN PROSE
694/1294), is very much a reflection of these larger trends. There is

very little biographical information about this individual, other than
that he lived in Konya in the second half of the 13th century when
Anatolia was beset with internal rivalries among Turkmen confedera-
tions while all the while contending with Mongol pressure from both
the north (the Golden Horde) and the east (the Ilkhans). His name
indicates that he worked at some point as a physician (motatabbeb),
while also boasting the laqab of Sadr, suggesting that he was a bu-
reaucratic functionary of considerable rank. He had been a student/
disciple of one Badr-al-Din Yahyâ, whom the 14th-century hagiogra-
pher Shams-al-Din Ahmad Aflâki describes simply as being a Persian
poet in the 13th century who himself was a student of the historian
and functionary in the Saljuq sultanate of Rum’s divân‑e toghrâ’i
(chief functionary), Ebn-Bibi.135 A cursory examination of the let-
ters and their addressees indicates that Abu-Bakr Ebn-al-Zaki also
worked on behalf of Bahâ’-al-Din, the amir al-savâhel, or governor
of the Anatolian coastlands, during the reign of Ghiyâth-al-Din Key
Khosrow III (663–81/1265–82).136 Beginning in the 1220 s, and con-
tinuing through the next fifty years, Saljuq dynastic figures, Iranian
notables and administrators, Persian poets, litterateurs, and a large
array of religious figures had fled to Anatolia, especially to Konya, in
advance of the Mongol invasions of the 1220s and 1250 s. Abu-Bakr
Ebn-al-Zaki bears a konye that may very well connect him with the
Banu’l-Zaki of Damascus, although there is no existing corroboration
of this. The Banu’l-Zaki were prominent notables in Damascus in the
12th and 13th centuries and are principally noted as being sponsors
and supporters of the great mystic and theologian, Ebn-al-Arabi (d.
638/1240); indeed, Ebn-al-Arabi passed away in the home of the qâzi,
Mohyi-al-Din Ebn-al-Zaki, who in turn oversaw the ensuing funer-
ary rites and burial of the great mystic in the family graveyard in the
neighboring district of Sâlehiyye, on the slopes of Mount Qâsiyun.137
135 Osman G. Özgüdenlı, “Persian Authors of Asia Minor, Part I,” EIr, online;
Sâlehi, “Ketâb-shenâsi-ye towsifi-ye monsha’ât, mokâtebât, va nâme-hâ,” p. 71.
136 Claude Cahen, The Formation of Turkey: The Seljukid Sultanate of Rūm,
Eleventh to Fourteenth Century, tr. P. M. Holt (Essex, 2001), p. 206.
137 Alexander Knysh, Ibn ʿArabi in the Later Islamic Tradition: The Making
of a Polemical Image in Medieval Islam (Albany, 1999), p. 30; Stephen
36
The dibâche of the Rowzat al-kottâb va hadiqat al-albâb (be-

lieved by Ali Sevim to have been compiled around 1279138), cer-
tainly confirms that Abu-Bakr Ebn-al-Zaki was a Sufi who was
directly inspired by the theosophical landscape of 13 th-century
Anatolia. In addition to Ebn-al-Arabi, who had earlier spent part
of his itinerant teaching life in places like Konya, the mystical poet
Jalâl-al-Din Rumi (d. 672/1273) had been a denizen of Konya and
a contemporary of Abu-Bakr Ebn-al-Zaki. Mohammad-Amin Ri-
yâhi detailed in 1990 how Abu-Bakr had been trained in medicine
by an Iranian physician, Akmal-al-Din Nakhjavâni, who was in
turn an active disciple of Rumi.139 While Abu-Bakr’s laqab of Sadr
certainly reflects his work as a chancellery official, one wonders
also if it could not have been somehow connected with Sadr-al-
Din Qonavi, Ebn-al-Arabi’s stepson and appointed successor as
well as disseminator of his teachings in the mid-13 th century. Sadr-
al-Din Qonavi transmitted his stepfather’s texts and teachings to
many contemporary theosophists of the Persianate world, includ-
ing Qotb-al-Din al-Shirâzi, and was no small part of the increased
Persianization of Anatolia and western Iran in this period.140
Abu-Bakr begins the dibâche of his treatise141 with a dedication
to God, but the scope and depth of this particular dedication is un-
paralleled. Akin to the structure of Ebn-al-Arabi’s oeuvre, al-Fo-
tuhât al-Makkiye (The Meccan Revelations), Abu-Bakr presents
his encomium to God on the basis of a series of divine traits. In
Hirtenstein, The Unlimited Mercifier: The Spiritual Life and Thought of
Ibn ʿArabi (Oxford, 1999), p. 220.
138 Ali Sevim, “Önsöz” (Introduction), in Abu-Bakr Ebn-al-Zaki, Rowzat al-
kottâb va hadiqat al-albâb, p. viii.
139 Mohammad-Amin Riyâhi, Zabân va adab‑e fârsi dar qalamrow‑e Oth-
mâni (Tehran, 1990), p. 127.
140 Jane Clark, “Early Best-Seller in the Akhbarian Tradition: The Dissemina-
tion of Ibn ʿArabi’s Teaching Through Sadr al-Din al-Qunawi,” Journal of
the Muhyiddin Ibn ʿArabi Society 33 (2003), pp. 22–53.
141 Part of the title itself, specifically hadiqat al-albâb is more than likely a ref-
erence to Ebn-al-Arabi’s specific discussion of the heavenly “walled garden”
(hadiqat) which separates the manifest and non-manifest aspects of reality,
while he translates albâb, not as “kernels,” but as “rational faculties.” See
William Chittick, The Self-Disclosure of God: Principles of Ibn al-ʿArabi’s
Cosmology (Albany, 1998), p. 7.
37
PERSIAN PROSE
the same way that Ebn-al-Arabi divides his work into six parts on
the basis of divine attributes (al-Alim, al-Morid, al-Qâder, al-Mo-
takallem, al-Sami’, al-Basir), Abu-Bakr presents a series of godly
characteristics based on these terms, along with short supplemen-
tal descriptions, to introduce his epistolographic work: atufi (lit.
“a/the compassionate one’ = compassion), and similarly jabbâri
(omnipotence), mojiri (protectiveness), azimi (mightiness), alimi
(knowledge), qâderi (powerfulness), ma’budi (being the object of
worship), latifi (subtlety), hakimi (wisdom), javâdi (generosity),
and vahhâbi (gift-giving).142
Abu-Bakr begins formally with the divine quality of “lordship”
(khodâvandi) wherein the quest to attain an understanding of the
attributes of His incomparable essence (dhât) results in reason (aql)
and thought (fekr) constantly swimming in the whirlpool of dis-
turbed amazement (heyrân); those prescient ones sojourn across the
plain of gnosis (ma’refat), but their travel across this “imagination
of the wayfarer” (khiyâl‑e jahân-navard) involves them perpetually
falling and staggering to their feet in a state of impotency.143 The
key concept here—khiyâl‑e jahân—was of course central to Ebn-
al-Arabi; in addition to meaning imagination, khiyâl also referred
to the images, or the “objective realities” we experience on this
earthly plain. For Ebn-al-Arabi, these are mirror-reflections of
non-existence (adam) and are not in of themselves “true” existence.144
Only those who have been lifted in their journey to God, such as
prophets and saints, and those who actively embrace imagination
are able to reach higher levels of awareness; those who privilege ra-
tional thought, namely philosophers, will forever be “camel-riders”
who traverse “the desert of bewilderment.”145 Abu-Bakr then lists
God’s second quality—atufi (compassion)—which echoes Ebn-al-
Arabi’s arguments regarding creation (khalq) and the notion that
Divine Unity continually defines all created things (makhluqât). He
observes how with one divine glance, thousands of thousands of
142 William Chittick, Ibn ʿArabi: Heir to the Prophets (London, 2007), p. 61;
Hirtenstein, The Unlimited Mercifier, pp. 161–62, p. 215.
143 Abu-Bakr Ebn-al-Zaki, Rowzat al-kottâb va hadiqat al-albâb, p. 1.
144 Chittick, Ibn ʿArabi, p. 106.
145 Hirtenstein, The Unlimited Mercifier, p. 167.
38
“heart-ravishing forms were brought forth from the hidden non-ex-

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

147 Abu-Bakr Ebn-al-Zaki, Rowzat al-kottâb va hadiqat al-albâb, pp. 2–3.
149 Jalâl-al-Din Rumi, Mathnavi-ye ma’navi, ed. and tr. R. A. Nicholson as The
Mathnawi of Jalalu’ddin Rumi (repr., 6 vols., Tehran, 2002), I, pp. 128–29.
39
PERSIAN PROSE
ant and the snake was a metaphor for the hidden lust in creation: he
talks in the Mathnavi of how “the ant of worldly lust has through
habit become as a snake. Kill the snake of lust (mâr‑e shahvat) at the
beginning—else, look you, your snake has become a dragon (azh-
dahâ).”152 Likewise, the mystic poet Sanâ’i wrote in the Hadiqat
al-haqiqe: “the ant of desire emerges from a blackness within—and
quickly that ant becomes a snake.”153 The reference here in Rowzat
al-kottâb to the ant’s gripping of his thick cord, and the appearance
of the eye of the snake, suggests that Abu-Bakr was not above some
playful dalliance of his own regarding metaphorical language.154
Abu-Bakr’s dibâche continues after this section on divine quali-
ties to describe God’s act of creation with terms and concepts fash-
ioned recently by Ebn-al-Arabi. Interestingly, he moves directly to
commenting how “may there be hundreds of thousands of prayers
and blessings on the spirit of the Khwâje” which has brought cer-
tainty to people with the “light of gnosis from the tumult of the
night of ignorance.” This unnamed “Khwâje” is almost certainly to
be understood as the Prophet (although there are no standard titu-
latures or blessings attached), but we wonder if Abu-Bakr was not
subtly referencing Ebn-al-Arabi himself here. This aforementioned
spirit confounded “wise lords and experienced masters” with
“manifest miracles and compelling signs,” and Abu-Bakr wishes for
continuation and succession for this Khwâje’s successors (kholafâ)
who were the “kings of the realm of certitude” (sarvarân‑e molk‑e
yaqin).155
Here, Abu-Bakr introduces himself and his motivation for writ-
ing the Rowzat al-kottâb va hadiqat al-albâb. He describes how
earlier, during the flower of his youth, he had come into posses-
sion of a number of books in Arabic and was introduced to epis-
tolary writings in Arabic and Persian and other poetic and prose
152 Rumi, Mathnavi-ye ma’navi, Book 2, pp. 362–63.

153 Sanâ’i Ghaznavi, Hadiqat al-haqiqe va shari’at al-tariqe, ed. Modarres Re-
zavi (Tehran, 1998), p. 370.
154 For more insightful analyses of Rumi regarding topics of sexuality in the
Mathnavi, see Mahdi Tourage, Rumi and the Hermeneutics of Eroticism
(Leiden, 2007).
40
texts.156 He describes how he kneeled in the presence of “masters of

this art” and was guided appropriately by his master and teacher:
Badr-al-Din Yahyâ. This individual is applauded by Abu-Bakr as
the “master of the two rhetorics” (dhu’l-bayâneyn) and “lord of
the two tongues” (sâheb al-lesâneyn); moreover, he was peerless in
writing and rhetoric.157 According to Riyâhi, Badr-al-Din Yahyâ
was a prominent scribe (dabir) under Key Khosrow II who had
been born in Konya but whose family had come to Anatolia from
Gorgan; parts of his own compilation, the Monsha’ât‑e Badr-al-
Din Yahyâ, are allegedly still extant.158 Abu-Bakr writes how per-
sonal letters of his (ekhvâniyyât) were read by confederates (ziyâ’,
wanderers; i. e. fellow Sufis), who exhorted him to compile a col-
lection.159 Clearly, Abu-Bakr was uncomfortable with such activity,
quoting an Arabic maxim “to write is to expose yourself to danger”
and decided to avoid the “threat of unjust and uncivil slanderers.”160
He acquiesced to their demands after some time, quoting the well-
known Arabic phrase also used frequently in Persian: “he who
is following orders is excused” (al-ma’mur ma’zur), and declares
self-deprecatingly that this enshâ’ text is his own “trifling mer-
chandise” (bazâ’at‑e mazje) and “defective silver” (sim‑e nâ-sare)
to be placed on the “corrupt scale of the coin-assayers of speech
and the money-changers of meaning.”161
The scribal and literary terrain could be a difficult one, and Abu-
Bakr clearly had reservations about including himself in any on-
going debates; his decision to use pecuniary metaphoric language
would be deemed perfectly appropriate for a Sufi such as himself.
He buttresses his point by quoting a fragment (qet’e 335) of An-
vari: “I am too apprehensive of the derisory smiles [or smirking

158 Riyâhi, Zabân va adab‑e Fârsi dar qalamrow‑e Othmâni, pp. 126–27,
states that some letters of Badr-al-Din Yahyâ are currently in the collection
of Hoseyn Nakhjavâni. The Nakhjavâni collection is now part of the Tabriz
municipal library (Ketâb-khâne-ye melli-e Tabriz).
161 Baghdâdi used such terms in his earlier al-Tavassol elâ’l-tarassol.
41
PERSIAN PROSE
mockery] of scented herbs/ To dispatch [my] thorn-riddled acacia

to the garden.”162
These misgivings aside, Abu-Bakr also saw the genre of enshâ’
and its proximity with state officials and governing structures as
a means of disseminating the theories and concepts which were
currently in vogue in 13th-century Anatolia: “It is to be hoped that
when this comes to be perused by the eminent, thanks to the na-
ture of their appraisal which in truth is like the alchemical red sul-
phur and elixir, in the eyes of the beholders its rocklike nature will
turn into precious gems and in the palate of its readers any poison
will turn into sugar.”163Almost certainly, the reference to the “red
sulfur and greatest elixir” was to Ebn-al-Arabi himself.164
Dastur al-kâteb fi ta’yin al-marâteb by Mohammad b.

Hendushâh Nakhjavâni (d. after 768/1366)165
Our second Mongol-era epistolographic text is arguably one of the

most famous treatises on enshâ’ from the medieval period: Mo-
hammad b. Hendushâh Nakhjavâni’s Dastur al-kâteb fi ta’yin al-
marâteb (Manual of the Scribe Regarding the Affixing of Ranks).
Available since 1964, thanks to Abd-al-Karim Alizâde’s Moscow
edition, the Dastur al-kâteb has been invaluable for socio-eco-
nomic and administrative history on account of its size and scope,
162 This verse was written in response to the judge Hakim-al-Din Balkhi who
had written some verse praising Anvari; Owhad-al-Din Mohammad An-
vari, Divân‑e Anvari, ed. Modarres Rezavi, (2 vols., Tehran, 1961), II, p. 679.
Nafisi’s edition has a rubric for this qet’e entitled “[How They Discuss] the
Truth of Qâzi Hamid-al-Din Balkhi”; see Divân‑e Anvari, ed. Sa’id Nafisi
(Tehran, 1959), p. 425.
164 Stephen Hirtenstein, “Names and Titles of Ibn ʿArabi,” Journal of the Muhy-
iddin Ibn ʿArabi Society 41 (2007), appearing online at www.ibnarabisociety.
org/articles/mssnames.html. The appearance here in this context might give
pause to reconsider Hirtenstein’s assertion that this title was not used to
denote Ebn-al-Arabi until later in the 16th century.
165 Mohammad b. Hendushâh Nakhjavâni, Dastur al-kâteb, ed. Abd-al-Karim
Alizâde (3 vols, Moscow, 1964–76).
42
as well as its highly taxonomic and categorical organization. The

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

167 Nakhjavâni, Dastur al-kâteb, I, p. 3.
168 Abu-Bakr Ebn-al-Zaki, Rowzat al-kottâb va hadiqat al-albâb, pp. 3–4;
Nakhjavâni, Dastur al-kâteb, I, p. 4.
43
PERSIAN PROSE
should be the most honored of all creations, and thus man was
distinguished with the honor of speech (notq) from all other liv-
ing creatures.” The purpose of this divine gift was that prophets,
saints, sages, and philosophers could praise and eulogize God’s
perfection, power and beauty, and they did this through reports
(akhbâr), Hadiths, secrets (asrâr), sayings (aqâvil), verses, and
blessings. Tellingly, Nakhjavâni also includes fosus‑e nosus, liter-
ally the “bezels of disputations,” but almost certainly a reference
to Ebn-al-Arabi’s seminal Fosus al-hekam (“Ringstones of Wis-
dom”) and further proof of some level of inter-textuality between
the Dastur al-kâteb and Abu-Bakr’s Rowzat al-kottâb.169
For Nakhjavâni, the ability to articulate and write was a pro-
found marker of status and prestige; as long as one can articulate
speech clearly, words become more religious, writing becomes
more beautiful, copying becomes more elegant, and progress up
the ladder of nobility and rank increases significantly. For Nakh-
javâni, the scribe is an exemplar of those divine qualities of speech
and reason, and early on, he demonstrates the relationship between
the epistolographic sciences and social stratification by clarifying
how a master of enshâ’ is he who can demonstrate that he is able to
affix rank to every single king, sultan, amir, grandee, and scholar,
whereby he can recite and write the titulatures, blessings and ser-
mons which are appropriate and corresponding to each rank; in
this sense, the practitioner of enshâ’ emerges as the promoter and
custodian of social hierarchy.170 This is clearly where Nakhjavâni
feels he can expound on the immutable qualities of enshâ’ as being
part of adab, and notes how a writer excels to the rank of “stylist,”
or monshi, when he can use sweet phrases, extraordinary stories,
miraculous and pleasant words, amazing quotations, and oral wit-
ticisms from Hadiths, historical reports and poetry.171 An Arabic
quatrain from the poet Abu-Bakr Khwârazmi (d. ca. 383/993) is
quoted, which Nakhjavâni summarizes in Persian prose: “I like in-
genuity and dexterity in all things, and I want for a man to be fully

44
steeped in whatever art or craft in which he is engaged in and for

which he is known.”172
In this sense, Nakhjavâni connects himself with an intricate
selsele of litterateurs: Rashid-al-Din Vatvât, Bahâ’-al-Din Moham-
mad Baghdâdi, Nur-al-Din Monshi, and Rezâ-al-Din Khashshâb.173
However, Nakhjavâni is quick to point out that a monshi must
guard against obsolete styles, and while he applauds these afore-
mentioned individuals as “superior in the ranks of eloquence”
(fasâhat), he is equally adamant that epistolographers should not
indulge in replicating enshâ’ from past periods as summed up in
the Arabic phrase, “every age has its unique states and statesmen.”174
What then follows is a lengthy rationalization of why exactly Na-
khjavâni has chosen to assemble the Dastur al-kâteb. He considered
himself to be instituting a renewal (tajdid), and he was abiding by
the principle of the maxim: “for every new thing there comes a joy
of renewing its way.”175 By looking to his text, future generations
can strengthen and lay out the meaning of all manners of literature:
Qur’anic verses, Hadiths, historical reports, annals, decrees, po-
ems, strange stories, wondrous tales, sermons and reprimands, and
announcements and instructions. In the instance that the study of
expository compounds (tarâkib‑e enshâ’i) becomes dreary, they
can be enlivened with pious phrases and excellent idioms, and
thus step away from the rule that practitioners of enshâ’ remain on
the path of scripted writing (jadval). At this point, Nakhjavâni is
explicit regarding the purported function of the Dastur al-kâteb:
showing the way of writing and articulation of reports “in order
that the ranks of the groups of society can become known.”176
172 Nakhjavâni, Dastur al-kâteb, I, pp. 7–8. For a discussion of the Avicennan
commentary on Aristotle’s doctrine of the imagination and its importance
for understanding prose and poetry, see Justine Landau, “Nasir al-Din Tusi
and Poetic Imagination in the Arabic and Persian Philosophical Tradition,”
in Ali Asghar Seyed-Ghohrab, ed., Metaphor and Imagery in Persian Po-
etry (Leiden, 2012), pp. 15–65.
45
PERSIAN PROSE
Conscious of his patron, the recently enthroned Sheykh Oveys,

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

179 Nakhjavâni, Dastur al-kâteb, I, p. 23; Abu-Bakr Ebn-al-Zaki, Rowzat al-
kottâb va hadiqat al-albâb, p. 6.
46
“Do not demand for something to be executed quickly but ask for
skillfulness; for people will not ask how long it took you to finish,
but they do ask about the quality of the product.”182 In addition
to the Arabic, Nakhjavâni—as he had done consistently in prior
cases—provides a Persian translation. This admonition from the
Greek master is combined seamlessly with the Prophetic tradition:
“Haste is from Satan, while deliberation is from God.” If someone
writes with speed and employs beautiful language, then he is a rare
thing indeed (nâder al-vojud), but nonetheless Nakhjavâni takes
pain to make mention of the requisite spacing of lines and proper
means of sealing a letter.183
Here, Nakhjavâni turns to the six fasls which make up the bulk
of this moqaddame, but he does point out that these are in fact
borrowed from one Mowlanâ Hakim-al-Din Nâmus. This, in fact,
is Hakim-al-Din Mohammad b. Ali al-Nâmus Khwâri, who wrote
an enshâ’ work entitled Tohfe-ye Jalâliyye some fifty years earlier
(between 1308 and 1316), and to date this work has received—to the
best of my knowledge—almost no attention in Western scholar-
ship.184 Interestingly, and I will elaborate on this later, Nakhjavâni
did not replicate the entirety of Khwâri’s dibâche, but copied and
paraphrased large parts into his own taxonomy: a) On the Subject
of the Science of Enshâ’ 185; b) On the Excellency of the Scribe, his

184 I was first introduced to this work thanks to Ryoko Watabe of the Tokyo
University of Foreign Studies, and I am most grateful for her willingness to
share a copy of this manuscript with me from the University of Tübingen
Library. Dâneshpazhuh mentions this source in his study of epistologra-
phy; see “Dabiri va nevisandagi,” p. 165. Most recently, a very small section
of this source (in excerpt form) was edited and published; see Qanbar-Ali
Rudgar, Nâme-ye Bahârestân 8–9 (2008), pp. 13–22. Rudgar also examined
this treatise in the context of his Ph. D. dissertation in Iran; see Qanbar-Ali
Rudgar, “Tashih‑e enteqâdi-ye resâle-ye Tohfe-ye Jalâliyye, tasnif‑e Hakim-
al-Din Mohammad b. Ali al-Nâmus al-Khwâri,” Ph. D. diss., University of
Tehran, 2004. Rudgar also mentions in his article that there are three man-
uscript copies of the Tohfe-ye Jalâliyye, Qanbar-Ali Rudgar, “Khânedân‑e
Zangi-ye Fâryumadi,” Motâle’ât‑e Eslâmi 68 (2007), pp. 163–86.
47
PERSIAN PROSE
Station, and his Status186; c) On the Customs of the Scribes and

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

191 Nezâmi Aruzi, Chahâr maqâle, pp. 19–41.
48
arguably one of the lengthiest introductory discourses ever written

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

(Cambridge, 1997).
49
PERSIAN PROSE
poets points to the likely reality that his reading audience (young
scribes and copyists) were not fully bilingual and were incapable
of understanding the intricacies of such flowery Arabic. However,
while Nakhjavâni deserves credit for assembling the Dastur al-kâteb,
we nonetheless have to acknowledge that his lengthy preface is—in
essence—a cobbling together of three previous significant epistolo-
graphic-scribal works: the Chahâr maqâle, the Rowzat al-kottâb va
hadiqat al-albâb, and the Tohfe-ye Jalâliyye. Undoubtedly, modern
historiography has profiled the unprecedented nature of the Dastur
al-kâteb, and all scholarly treatments (to date) of the epistolographic
genre in the medieval era pay homage to Nakhjavâni.193 Be that as it
may, Nakhjavâni borrowed extensively from the Tohfe-ye Jalâliyye,
not only for his moqaddame but the entirety of his enshâ’ manual,
and it is high time that Hakim-al-Din Mohammad Ali al-Nâmus
Khwâri be given his proper due and introduced formally to modern
historiography.
Tohfe-ye Jalâliyye (ca. 708–716/1308–1316) by Hakim-al-

Din Mohammad b. Ali al-Nâmus Khwâri194
Khwâri mentions in his prefatory remarks that he had been com-

missioned to compile this enshâ’ manual—the Tohfe-ye Jalâliyye—
on behalf of a vizier named Jalâl-al-Din Abu-Yazid b. Vajih-al-Din
193 Lambton, Continuity and Change, pp. 371–72; Ali-Akbar Ahmadi Dârâni
and Akram Harâtiyân, “Dastur al-kâteb fi ta’yin al-marâteb,” Âyine-ye
Mirâth 6/2 (Summer, 2008), New Series, pp. 219–33; Abbâs-Qoli Ghaffâri
Fard, “Dastur al-kâteb fi ta’yin al-marâteb,” Ketâb‑e mâh—târikh va
jogrâfiyâ 5 (2002), pp. 50–52; David Morgan, “Dastur al-kāteb,” in EIr, VII,
pp. 113–14; idem, “The ‘Great Yāsā of Chingiz Khān’ and Mongol Law in the
Īlkhānate,” BSOAS 49 (1986), pp. 163–76, esp. 174–76; Roemer, “Inshā’,” in
EI2, III, pp. 1241–44; Fath-Allâh Mojtabâ’i, “Correspondence ii: In Islamic
Persia,” in EIr, VI, pp. 290–93; Anne Broadbridge, Kingship and Ideology
in the Islamic and Mongol Worlds (Cambridge, 2008), p. 163; George Lane,
Daily Life in the Mongol Age (Westport, Conn., 2006), p. 224; Islam, A Cal-
endar of Documents on Indo-Persian Relations (1500–1750), I, p. 4, pp. 9–10.
194 This work is currently in manuscript form, and comprises ff. 3 b–109 a of a
collection of treatises on enshâ’ in the Tübingen Library, Adabiyat 194/2. A
50
Zangi b. Tâher Fâryumadi.195 Ezz-al-Din Tâher Fâryumadi

(d. 668/1270) was a prominent scholar-bureaucrat who had served
as vizier to Khorasan under the Mongol ruler Abaqa (d. 680/1282)196;
his son Vajih-al-Din Zangi not only inherited his position as a vi-
zier, but appears to have continued his father’s sponsorship of the
famous Mongol poet of scurrilous verses, Pur-Bahā’ Jâmi (b. ca.
683/1284?).197 Indeed, as Qanbar-Ali Rudgar has demonstrated,
Ezz-al-Din Tâher had six sons who went on to occupy different
posts of prominence in the Mongol Ilkhanid state.198 Jalâl-al-Din
was arguably the lesser known of Ezz-al-Din’s descendants but
he would have been active as a vizier—somewhere—during the
heyday of Rashid-al-Din Fazl-Allâh Hamadâni.199 According to
Rudgar, our epistolographer Khwâri penned three other treatises:
the Hadâ’eq al-vathâ’eq (Gardens of Documents),200 the Ketāb
al-hekme fi’l-ad’iye va’l-mow’eze le’l-omme (Book of Wisdom
on Blessings and Sermons to the Community), and the Rowzat
al-motakallemin (Garden of the Scholastics). Indeed, based on a
vaqf deed included in Khwâri’s Hadâ’eq al-vathâ’eq, Rudgar has
second work, identified as Meftâh al-enshâ’, is by one Râji Mohammad b.

Hâjji Hedâyat-Allâh and runs from ff. 109–42. The colophon on fol. 142 a
records that this copy was made in Soltaniyye on 20 Jomâda I 741/19 No-
vember 1340. One of Khwâri’s other texts, the Hadâ’eq al-vasâ’eq, com-
prises the remaining thirty folios, and the colophon on fol. 171 b records
that it was copied by one Mohammad-Mahmud Abi’l-Ma’âli, possibly in
Isfahan, in 737/1336.
195 Khwâri, Tohfe-ye Jalâliyye, fol. 5 b.
196 Mohammad b. Khwâvandshâh Mirkhwând, Rowzat al-safâ, ed. Abbâs
Zaryâb (6 vols. in 2, Tehran, 1994), V, p. 913, comments how Vajih-al-Din
Zangi had been responsible for rebuilding Nishâpur on behalf of Abaqa
Khân after a particularly devastating earthquake in the region.
197 George Lane, “Pur(-e) Bahā’ Jāmi, Tāj-al-Din,” in EIr, online edition.
198 Rudgar, “Khânadân‑e Zangi-ye Fâryumadi,” pp. 167–72; see also Jean
Aubin, Émirs mongols et vizirs persans dans les remous de l’acculturation
(Paris, 1995), p. 33.
199 However, Rudgar, “Khânadân‑e Zangi-ye Fâryumadi,” pp. 167–72, also
comments how there is no extant evidence of Jalâl-alDin Abu-Yazid b.
Vajih-a l-Din Zangi’s appointments or activities. Moreover, Rudgar suggests
the possibility that Jalâl-al-Din in fact was a brother of Vajih-al-Din and a
son of Ezz-al-Din Tâher.
200 This work is part of the Tübingen Library MS Adabiyat 194/2, fols. 142 b–71 b.
51
PERSIAN PROSE
argued convincingly that Khwâri’s patron, the vizier Jalâl-al-Din

Abu-Yazid, was also a Shi’ite.201
The Tohfe-ye Jalâliyye clearly functioned as an intermediary
text between Abu-Bakr’s Rowzat al-kottâb va hadiqat al-albâb
and Nakhjavâni’s later Dastur al-kâteb. There is comparable em-
phasis on God’s epiphany (tajalli) and the supremacy of reason and
language as one of God’s first creations; these ideas are, in turn,
buttressed by a recognizable series of quotes from the Qur’an and
the Prophet as well as poets like Rumi and Anvari.202 With the
marker ammâ ba’d, Khwâri begins an intriguing and profound
philosophical rationalization regarding Persian literature of speech
and writing. For Khwâri, the power of speech (qovvat‑e notq) is
not “imagined” but rather a reflection of God’s Unity. He defends
the distinction between external manifestation (tasvir) and inter-
nal meaning (ma’ni) with the Arabic testimonial: “I testify from
al-Falak al-dâ’er, and work from al-Mathal al-sâ’er,” referring to
two important 13th-century Arabic texts which profiled the rela-
tionship between badi’ lafzi (figurae elocutionis) and badi’ ma’navi
(figurae sententiae) by the Mu’tazilite scholar Ebn-Abi’l-Hadid (d.
656/1258) and Ziyâ’-al-Din Ebn-al-Athir (d. 637/1239).203 Letters
and sounds of speech are clearly heard, but speculation and mean-
ing are hidden; as Alexander the Great stated: “the Pen is one of
two tongues,” citing a tradition which the essayist Amr b. Bahr
Jâhez had made famous in his Ketâb al-bayân va’l-tabyin (Book of
Eloquence and Demonstration).204 It is very likely that Khwâri was
also inspired by Khwâje Nasir-al-Din Tusi, who described the for-
mation of letters in very comparable terms in his Paradise of Sub-
mission (Rowze-ye taslim).205 Khwâri had at one time likely been
inspired by Baghdâdi’s pecuniary and confrontational metaphors,
201 Rudgar, “Khânadân‑e Zangi-ye Fâryumadi,” p. 173.

202 Khwâri, Tohfe-ye Jalâliyye, fols. 3 b–4 a.
203 Khwâri, Tohfe-ye Jalâliyye, fol. 4 b; Van Gelder, Beyond the Line, p. 10.
204 Khwâri, Tohfe-ye Jalâliyye, fol. 4 b; see also Amr b. Bahr Jâhez, Ketâb al-
bayân wa’l-tabyin, ed. A. M. Hârun (4 vols. in 2, Beirut, 1948), I, p. 79.
205 Nasir-al-Din Tusi, Rowzat al-taslim, ed. and tr. S. J. Badakchani as Para-
dise of Submission: A Medieval Treatise on Ismaili Thought (London, 2005),
p. 133.
52
and here he draws a bead on courtly sycophants and faux litterateurs

with the Arabic expression (which draws on Qur’anic symbolism):
“they themselves have no worth, they have no value, no palm-trees
and no lotus trees in their valley”; Khwâri adds how “[I] who have
no goods to sell should have value in this bazaar and the ability to
grow in this garden.”206 He shifts metaphors adroitly in this dia-
tribe: “some excellent grandees” are like keepers of palm-gardens
(notarâ’) who throw branches (aghsâni) into the Garden of Enshâ’;
they satisfy their palate of reason (mazâq‑e aql) with a tasteless
sherbet (sharbat‑e bi-dhowq) and their skulls spin with indecision
(bi lâ va na’am).207
For Khwâri, the fundamentals of speech and writing are eas-
ily corrupted by power-hungry functionaries who “reveal those
foolish words of preceding works and open the door to the most
extreme and impossible meanings.”208 Proper speech and writing
should strive as close as possible towards God’s first creative act,
and its practice is an ars arcana which should be protected from
misguided interlopers: “that traveled path was not closed, and
[thankfully] that veil of defect, like the unveiling of the hidden
realm (kashf al-gheyb), did not occur.”209 The rationale for the
Tohfe-ye Jalâliyye supersedes the day-to-day requirements of ad-
ministration and the quotidian demands of the state: “the proofs
of augustness of this greatness and the mental images of conceiving
this idea are the same as in Creation, whereby [God’s] breath blew
winds of divine favor in those pages … and spread the illustrious
spirits of fortune.” While Khwâri was obviously invoking God as
his inspiration, there is nonetheless a powerful concept of epiphany
being conveyed here. Ebn-al-Arabi was especially committed to
analyzing the relationship between speech and writing, but with
the added insight that the recitation of the Qur’an was in essence a
manifestation of God’s breath (ruh‑e qodsi). Further still, the uni-
verse is essentially a theophany of the Divine Essence, an essence
that is renewed at every moment with God’s breath, but with no
207 Khwâri, Tohfe-ye Jalâliyye, fol. 5 a.
53
PERSIAN PROSE
sense of repetition.210 In this way, creation is renewed from instant

to instant in a succession of theophanies (tajalliyât) that begins with
the initial Epiphany in the world of mystery (âlam al-gheyb) and
repeats itself instantly in the phenomenal world (âlam al-shahâde).211
Khwâri uses the subsequent section to introduce himself and his
dedicatee, Jalâl-al-Din Abu-Yazid b. Vajih-al-Din Zangi b. Tâher
Fâryumadi. Jalâl-al-Din is lionized by a line of Arabic poetry from
Abu-Bakr Khwârazmi (who in turn had been paying ode to Sâheb
b. Abbâd, the great Buyid vizier, Mu’tazilite, and litterateur), but
Khwâri is quick to point out that “this [current] text is free of the ex-
crement of takallof and tasallof.”212 He formally presents the name
of his treatise, and explains how it has been divided broadly into
two sections: the first covers “Scholarly Debates”213, while the sec-
ond qesm examines “Sample Texts.”214 “Scholarly Debates” in turn
is segmented into four chapters (abvâb), and it is these and other
appended sections which Nakhjavâni selectively copied to augment
his own moqaddame some fifty years later. The first chapter is on
explicating the essence of the science of writing: it is the represen-
tation, or tasvir, of utterance (al-lafz) with letters of the alphabet;
ma’ni stands as the logical arrangement of constituent morphemes
to form meaning, and the resulting image (tasvir) is called writ-
ing, or ketâbat.215 When this custom was established, namely the
arrangement of letters, it was necessary to look at the final cause
(ellat‑e ghâ’i), or purpose, of that image. If the purpose is to con-
vey information that is in the mind of the writer (zamir‑e kâteb),
then this is called the science of tarassol, thus the utterance (lafz),
or manifestation, of rasul (messenger), mursal (sender of news), and
210 This constant renewal of creation was referred to by Ebn-al-Arabi in the

Meccan Revelations as tajdid al-khalq fi’l-ânât; see Hirtenstein, The Un-
limited Mercifier, p. 161. See also S. H. Nasr, Three Muslim Sages: Avicenna,
Suhrawardi, Ibn ʿArabi (Cambridge, Mass., 1964), p. 112.
211 Henry Corbin, Creative Imagination in the Sufism of Ibn ʿArabi, tr. R.
Manheim (Princeton, 1969), pp. 187–89.
213 Khwâri, Tohfe-ye Jalâliyye, fols. 6 a–40 a.
214 Khwâri, Tohfe-ye Jalâliyye, fols. 40 a–107 a.
215 Khwâri, Tohfe-ye Jalâliyye, fol. 6 a. See Wolfhart P. Heinrichs, “Lafẓ and
Maʿnā,” in EAL, p. 461.
54
resâle (communication). If the final cause of that conception is the

protection of property according to Shari’a law, then that is called
the science of shorut; similarly, protection of property according to
the conventions of the state is called the science of estifâ’.216 And
the science of writing, which they call enshâ’ al-nathr (composition
of prose), is divided into a variety of types, namely epistolography
(enshâ’), craft of surveying lands (san’at‑e mesâhat), granting of
taxes and crown lands (habâyat‑e amvâl va jonâb), petitions (arz),
judicial sentences (sokuk), and court registers (sejellât); however, it
is not necessary for the monshi to know accounting (estifâ’), nor
should the mostowfi be responsible for epistolography.
While Nakhjavâni did not copy the chapter discussed above, he
did include Khwâri’s second chapter on explaining the subject of
epistolography and accounting.217 Khwâri continues his emphasis
in this second chapter on understanding enshâ’ through a meta-
physical lens by stating that every science should constitute a sub-
ject-matter (mowzu’i), and that we should investigate as to whether
the subject-matter in question is closer or farther to the accidents
and attributes (avârez va sefât) of the science.218 He presents the
analogy (qiyâs) of how the human body is one of the subject mat-
ters of the science of medicine; a physician, then, investigates the
“accidents” of medicine, in this case health and sickness. Khwâri
adds how every science should have subject matter which is made
up of opposing elements which are nonetheless interconnected.219
In this sense, the object of the science of enshâ’ is determined ac-
cording to the essence of the scribe (dhât‑e kâteb). This notion
of essence is juxtaposed with the avârez which appear in speech:
balâghat (rhetoric), fasâhat (eloquence), etnâb (prolixity), and other
216 Khwâri, Tohfe-ye Jalâliyye, ff. 6 a–b.

217 Nakhjavâni uses the term fasl while Khwâri uses al-bâb. Nakhjavâni, Dastur
al-kâteb, I, p. 63; Khwâri, Tohfe-ye Jalâliyye, fol. 6 b.
218 Khwâri, Tohfe-ye Jalâliyye, fol. 6 b; Nakhjavâni, Dastur al-kâteb, I, p. 63.
219 As an example, he talks about how one subject matter of Arabic speech
is the science of syntax (sarf ), while another is grammar (nahv); yet from
this perspective, grammar can be both declinable (mo’rab) and indeclinable
(mabni), while syntax is mutable and can change on the basis of conditions
and context.
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rhetorical devices like saj’, tajnis, tarsi’, and este’âre.220 He explains

in comparable terms how wealth (mâl) is the subject matter in the
science of accounting.221 Khwâri concludes this particular chapter
with an unprecedented perspective, which Nakhjavâni chose not
to include in his later Dastur al-kâteb. Khwâri states that knowl-
edge can be obtained with regard to the “mystery of these words”
(serr‑e in kalemât) through the “craft of logic” (senâ’at‑e manteq);
on this matter, however, he observes how it was said that Bahla
Hendavi “looked into the craft of logic from the perspective of ar-
tifice and exaggeration, and not from the perspective of objection
and general curiosity.”222 Bahla Hendavi, also referred to as Sâleh b.
Bahla Hendavi, is a mysterious figure believed to have been part of
a coterie of Indian physicians who had been sponsored by the Bar-
makids in the court of al-Ma’mun. Jâhez reported a tradition that
Bahla Hendavi circulated a Sanskrit text on rhetoric in the Abbasid
court which impressed Me’mâr b. al-Ash’ath.223
The third chapter on “the nobility of the science of enshâ’ and
the sublime qualities of the science of accounting” is, like the above
quotation from Bahla Hendavi and earlier sections, not replicated
by Nakhjavâni. This discretion on the part of Nakhjavâni is likely
on account of the strong Avicennan flavor provided by Khwâri. He
begins with an Arabic blessing: “May God make things succeed
for you in a way God likes and agrees upon,” positing subsequently
that tarassol can be either a noble science (sharaf‑e elm) or a noble
subject-matter (sharaf‑e mowzu’); moreover, “the honor of each sci-
ence is either in the subject-matter, or in the strength of its proofs,
220 Khwâri, Tohfe-ye Jalâliyye, fol. 6 b; Nakhjavâni, Dastur al-kâteb, I, p. 64.

221 Târi is understood as an essence, while accidents include collecting taxes
(jam’‑e kharâj), counterfeit (taghyir), money changing (tabdil), making
octangular (tathmin), currency conversion (tasrif ), superfluities (fâzel), re-
mainders (bâqi), and other transactions; he also adds that the subject-matter
of the science of juridical sentencing should be wealth. Khwâri, Tohfe-ye
Jalâliyye, fol. 7 a; Nakhjavâni, Dastur al-kâteb, I, p. 64.
223 Mohammad Ghofuri, “Ta’âthir‑e elmi-farhangi-ye Hend dar dânesh‑e mo-
salmânân dar sadde-hâ-ye nokhostin‑e Eslâmi,” Târikh-e Eslâm 32 (2007),
pp. 130–31.
56
or in both.”224 Where Khwâri may have first encountered this par-

ticular argument is not clear but Ghazâli spoke of science in such
terms in Book 1 (Book of Knowledge) of the Ehyâ’225; Khwâri may
have also borrowed these sentences from the prefatory remarks of
a 13th-century scientific astronomical text, namely the Ketâb al-
hey’at (also known as Elm al-falak al-Arabi) by Mo’ayyad-al-Din
Ordi.226 Ordi was a Kurdish astronomer who had worked closely
with Khwâje Nasir-al-Din Tusi at the scientific center at Marâghe
under the early Ilkhanid Mongols, and his Ketâb al-hey’at was a
key scientific text to emerge from this period.227 Either way, what
follows from Khwâri is a passionate defense of science, and the in-
terdependence of reason and speech in understanding God’s cre-
ation. Moreover, his emphasis on the “essence” (mâhiyat) or what
Ebn-Sinâ described as the “whatness” of an object, is reflective of a
larger debate about conception (tasavvor) and assent (tasdiq) which
had been shaping the Islamic intellectual world since the 10th centu-
ry.228 Ebn-Sinâ uses terms like takhyil (imaginative representation)
and mohâkâh (imitation) to identify mimesis with “image-making,”
whereby images and imitations are identified with poetic discourse
and passionate rhetoric because such images are not limited and
conceivably indefinite.229 Khwâri argues how elm‑e kalâm is “the
most noble of sciences,” and it is for the reason that one of its “sub-
ject-matters” (mowzu’ât) is “the Necessary Being” (vâjeb al-vojud)
who liberally grants good deeds and generosity. This is directly in-
spired by the debates Ebn-Sinâ popularized earlier regarding God

225 Nabih Amin Faris (ed. and tr.), The Book of Knowledge: Being a Translation
with Notes of ‘Kitab al-ʿ ilm’ of al-Ghazzali’s ‘Ihya’ ʿUlum al-Din’ (New
Delhi, 1962), p. 130.
226 Mo’ayyad-al-Din Ordi, Elm al-falak al-Arabi, ed. George Saliba (Beirut,
1990), p. 25.
227 Mohammad Khottâbi, Mowsu’at al-torâth al-fekri al-Arabi al-Eslâmi (Bei-
rut, 1998), pp. 716–17.
228 Black, Logic and Aristotle’s ‘Rhetoric’ and ‘Poetics’ in Medieval Arabic Phi-
losophy, p. 72.
229 Ismail Dahiyat, Avicenna’s ‘Commentary on the Poetics of Aristotle’: A
Critical Study with an Annotated Translation of the Text (Leiden, 1974),
p. 41.
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PERSIAN PROSE
and his status as the Necessary Being in His essence and, accord-
ingly, the Necessary Being in His knowledge, His will, and His
act.230 Khwâri suggests that “a science can be designated a different
type of science altogether when presented with the corroboration of
proofs and an excess of impartial exigencies.”231 Khwâri is invoking
here the Avicennan notion that knowledge can share the same on-
tological space as a category, but draw on different, but not neces-
sarily competing, sources; namely: divinity and reason. The elm‑e
kalâm, and here Khwâri positions traditional “theology” alongside
the science of “speech,” is constructed as among the “most excel-
lently ranked and noble of subject-matters,” in the same way that
medicine (tebb) and veterinary practice (beytara) are close to one
another in the application of evidence and proof. Khwâri adds how
the goods of the druggist (attâr) and the veterinarian (beytâr) are
sold in the same bazaar at the same tariff, and here he quotes the
Arabic phrase “one day, they go to [the stall] of Attâr, another day
they go to [the stall] of Beytâr;” this, in fact, is a subtle scholarly
reference to two contemporaneous pharmacologists who had dom-
inated scientific discourse in Khwâri’s day.232 In addition to writing
a commentary on Dioscorides’ Materia medica entitled the Tafsir
ketâb Deyusquridus, Ebn-al-Beytâr (from al-Andalus) was proba-
bly most famous for his own work on pharmacology and dietetics,
the Ketâb al-jâme’ le-mofradât al-adviye va’l-ajdiye.233 The attâr
here is undoubtedly meant to be Dâvud b. Abi-Nasr Kuhin-al-At-
târ Esrâ’ili (f. 658/1260), a prominent pharmacologist (a Jew, or a
recent convert to Islam) whose Ketâb al-dokkân—rhetorically al-
luded to above—was written in the later decades of the 13th centu-
ry.234 These scientific allusions to medicine and veterinary science
are reinforced with several lines of successive poetry from Anvari’s
230 Mehdi Ha’iri Yazdi, The Principles of Epistemology in Islamic Philosophy

(Albany, 1992), p. 20.
232 Oliver Kahl, Sabur ibn Sahl: The Small Dispensatory, Translated from the
Arabic Together with a Study and Glossaries (Leiden, 2003), p. 29.
233 Manfred Ullmann, Die Medizin im Islam (Leiden, 1970), pp. 280–83.
234 Ullmann, Die medizin im Islam, pp. 309–10.
58
divân and al-Varâvini’s Aesopic Marzbân-nâme.235 The Tohfe-ye

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

there is an edition and more recently a translation.239
Khwâri’s Avicennan framework of analysis continues in his
fourth chapter on the division of epistolography according to
the classification of four causes. Again, Nakhjavâni chose not to
include this chapter in his replication of the Tohfe-ye Jalâliyye.
Khwâri uses the vocabulary here and in further elaborate taxono-
mies in this treatise, which reflects a philosophical bent consistent
with metaphysical language which dates back to Late Antiquity.240
Khwâri stipulates that everything in existence is in need of four
“causes” (elal), and he employs the common analogy of how one
builds a chair (he in fact uses throne, or takht): the efficient cause
(ellat‑e fâ’eli) is the carpenter, the material cause ellat‑e mâddiyye)
is wood, the formal cause (ellat‑e suri) is the purpose, and the final
cause (ellat‑e ghâ’i) is the ruler’s ascension to the throne.241 Pro-
ducing a letter is the same, and it is well corroborated that writing
has four causes. The efficient cause is the writer (kâteb), while the
material cause are the words (kalâm) themselves; the formal cause
is the arrangement and structure (tarkib va tartib) of the letter, and
the final cause is the writing of the letter in question. The review
of enshâ’ material thus far in this chapter supports Khwâri’s own
subsequent claim that “until now, not one person has assailed and
besieged this art in this [philosophical] manner.”242 What follows
for several folios is a cause-by-cause presentation of Khwâri’s meta-
physical treatment of writing, with reference to and replication of
239 Ebn-Sinâ, Ketâb al-majmu’ ow al-hekme al-arudiyye fi ma’âni ketâb Rit-

uriqâ, ed. Salim Salim (Cairo, 1950). For the translation, see Lahcen E. Ez-
zaher, “Avicenna’s Book of Rhetoric: An English Translation of Avicenna’s
Commentary on Aristotle’s Rhetoric,” Advances in the History of Rhetoric
11/12 (2009), pp. 133–58.
240 Riad, Studies in the Syriac Preface, p. 182; see also Adam H. Becker, Fear
of God and the Beginning of Wisdom: The School of Nisibis and Chris-
tian Scholastic Culture in Late Antique Mesopotamia (Philadelphia, 2006),
pp. 101–4.
241 Tusi describes man’s being with the exact same terms in Paradise of Sub-
mission: Nasir al-Din Tusi, Paradise of Submission, p. 168; Khwâri, Tohfe-ye
Jalâliyye, fol. 8 a.
60
various supporting historical texts. Nakhjavâni eschews this em-

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

245 Khwâri, Tohfe-ye Jalâliyye, fols. 9 a–9 b.
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teacher of Ghazâli. In one of Fârmadhi’s books, says Nakhjavâni,

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

248 Khwâri, Tohfe-ye Jalâliyye, fol. 10 a; Nakhjavâni, Dastur al-kâteb, I, pp. 73–75.
62
supplemental commentaries on Ali’s Nahj al-balâghe.252 Khwâri

and Nakhjavâni provide then a lengthy list of notable scribes
who went on to occupy high offices in the Omayyad and Abbasid
states.253 This prosoprographic history continues into the Abbasid
period, noting the power and influence of individuals like Abd-
al-Hamid b. Yahyâ, Abd-Allâh Ebn-al-Moqaffa’ (with particular
mention by Khwâri of the Adab al-kabir as unparalleled), Khâled
b. Barmak, Abu-Abd-Allâh, and Yunos b. Farve, the scribe to the
caliphal candidate Isâ b. Musâ.254 Interestingly, Nakhjavâni—but
not Khwâri—profiles whom he believes to be two of the most im-
portant scribes in Islamic history: the brothers Ostâd Sayyed Rezâ
Musavi and Sayyed Mortazâ, both prominent writers and Shi’ite
scholars of the 10th-century Buyid state.255 Nakhjavâni’s account
gives a detailed description of these two Shi’ite notables: They held
sizeable eqtâs, or land assignments, and rivaled the power of the
military amirs. Khwâri and Nakhjavâni conclude their respective
prosopographies, praising at length the power, ability, and pre-
science of these progenitors of Arabic prose and epistolography.
The Tohfe-ye Jalâliyye adds some further lines of commentary, not
replicated by Nakhjavâni, describing how it is his sincere wish for
the excellence of this craft (san’at) to return to its original form—as
practiced by the families of the Sasanians and the Samanids—in
order that this suffering society could be healed with proper writ-
ing.256 Without the science of writing, Khwâri argues, the Qur’an,
the stories of the companions, and the posts (mavâqef) and sta-
tions (maqâmât) of the Mohâjerun and the Ansâr would never have
been known. He summarizes with an epiphanic reference, likely
inspired by his active reasoning on theosophist such as Ebn-al-
Arabi: “you hear speech from Adam, Noah, the composition of the
252 Khwâri, Tohfe-ye Jalâliyye, fol. 10 a. See Bilal Orfali, “The Works of Abū
Manṣur al-Thaʿālibī,” pp. 284–85.
253 Khwâri, Tohfe-ye Jalâliyye, fols. 10 b-11 b; Nakhjavâni, Dastur al-kâteb, I,
pp. 76–78.
254 Khwâri, Tohfe-ye Jalâliyye, fol. 11 b; Nakhjavâni, Dastur al-kâteb, I, pp. 79–80.
256 Khwâri, Tohfe-ye Jalâliyye, ff. 11 b–12 a.
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body and the exhale of breath.”257 This entire section—designed to

extol the role of the scribe and vizier in nominal Islamic society—is
formally concluded with a line of poetry from Hariri’s Maqâmât:
“Right is the master who is perfectly created [by God]—If it were
not for my fear of God, I would have said ‘may His power be ever-
lasting’.”258 Khwâri’s remaining chapters—on ellat‑e mâddiyye259,
ellat‑e suri260, and ellat‑e ghâ’i261—make up the remainder262 of the
first section (“Scholarly Debates”) of the Tohfe-ye Jalâliyye, before
the second section (“Sample Texts”) begins.
Thus, the Mongol era witnessed profound re-orientations in the
realm of enshâ’ and epistolography. I would argue that the sys-
temization provided by Nakhjavâni in his Dastur al-kâteb fi ta’yin
al-marâteb and his hierarchical presentation of offices, ranks, and
societal levels were reflective of the increased presence of a fused
discourse on political ethics, selected from the Hellenistic world,
shaped by the pre-Islamic Pahlavi landscape, and of course framed
by Islamic legalism and orthodoxy, which had been emerging in
the central Islamic lands since the 9th century. The need to orga-
nize and systemize society in rational terms was a manifestation of
the greater debate taking place in the intellectual world, whereby
proponents of reason and rational inquiry were pushing back and
forth with traditionalists who were incapable of accepting knowl-
edge as anything other than divinely originated. In this way, Khwâri
and his Tohfe-ye Jalâliyye stands shoulder-to-shoulder with the

258 See Abu-Mohammad Qâsem b. Ali Hariri, Maqâmât al-Hariri, ed. I. Sabâ
(Beirut, 1965), p. 31; Khwâri, Tohfe-ye Jalâliyye, fol. 12 a. The remaining
sections (fasls) discuss various technical details associated with the timing
and condition of writing, books and the use of writing instruments: Khwâri,
Tohfe-ye Jalâliyye, fols. 12 a–14 a; Nakhjavâni, Dastur al-kâteb, I, pp. 82–90.
259 Starting on fol. 18 b, there are 10 detailed sections in relation to kalâm. See
Khwâri, Tohfe-ye Jalâliyye, fols. 18 b–19 a.
260 This third fasl is in turn divided into 6 asls: 1) the name of God; 2) khetâb;
3) alqâb; 4) do’ â; 5) hekâyat; 6) esm‑e kâteb; Khwâri, Tohfe-ye Jalâliyye,
fols. 19 b–34 b.
261 Khwâri, Tohfe-ye Jalâliyye, ff. 35 b–40 a.
262 This present contribution will not address the specifics of these chapters,
and they remain as a subject for future inquiry.
64
immediately preceding generations of Ebn-Sinâ and Nasir-al-Din

Tusi. His lionizing of the pre-Islamic Iranian age, and his elaborate
defense of speech and writing as “subject-matter” (mowzu’) and
“science” (elm) operates in a metaphysical domain, and not exclu-
sively in one framed by divine revelation and scriptural authority.
4. Retrenchment and Replication:

The Timurid Period (1400–1500)263
The successors of Timur emerged as the principal custodians of

Persianate culture in the 15th century, and the sponsorship of li-
terati, poets, scholars, artists, and architects by princely and im-
perial rulers like Bâysonghur, Shâhrokh, and Soltân-Hoseyn
Bâyqarâ allowed Khorasan to reassume the prominence it once
enjoyed under the Ghaznavids and Saljuqs. These Turkic rulers,
themselves scions of a semi-nomadic tribe from the Farghana val-
ley, continued the medieval precedent put in motion by the Saljuqs
and Mongols, and adopted Persian language and culture towards
an overall synthesis of ancient Iranian notions of absolute king-
ship, Turco-Mongol conceptions of corporate sovereignty, and the
relatively well-formed orthodoxy and legalism of Arabo-Islamic
culture. While the Timurid empire had been traumatized by an
enduring civil war (807–14/1405–11) after the death of Timur, the
reigns of Shâhrokh (814–50/1411–47) and Soltân-Hoseyn Bâyqarâ
(873–912/1469–1506) witnessed a socio-economic revival in Kho-
rasan, Khvarazm, and Central Asia. Undoubtedly, the basis for
this resurgence was the Timurid promotion of sustained agricul-
tural activity in and around cities, towns, and villages; in addition
263 Enshâ’ sources for the Timurid period abound, but for purposes of conci-
sion I will be discussing only three of them. For other enshâ’ sources, see
Hans Robert Roemer’s treatment of Marvarid’s Sharaf-nâme in Staatssch-
reiben der Timuridenzeit: das ‘Sharaf-nâma’ des ʿAbdallâh Marwarid in
kritischer Auswertung (Wiesbaden, 1952). For lesser-known enshâ’ works
still in manuscript form, see Dâneshpazhuh, “Dabiri va nevisandagi,”
pp. 168–70.
65
PERSIAN PROSE
to initiating and supporting elaborate hydrological systems, the

Timurids consciously developed endowment tools (vaqf ) and tax
systems which facilitated the development of a strong agrarian
hinterland. We know, thanks to the work of Maria Subtelny, that
Timurid princes saw sedentary-agrarian values as inherently con-
nected with the principles of proper imperial governance. While
the “Circle of Justice”—a pre-Islamic Sasanian concept whereby
a perfect king is ultimately defined by his ability to support and
protect his subject peasant population—had been revived and (to
some extent) popularized by Nezâm-al-Molk during the Saljuq pe-
riod, it was the Timurids who implemented these ideological pre-
cepts most consistently during the medieval period.264 Indeed, Per-
sian poets often employed rhetorical devices to liken a successful
kingdom to a teeming garden being tended to by a conscientious
king-cum-gardener.265 Agrarian principles and technical exper-
tise were so naturally necessary to imperial projects that Qâsem
b. Yusof Abu-Nasri compiled and presented his Ershâd al-zerâ’a
(Guidance on Agriculture) in 921/1515, and as such this text was
“construed as a mirror for princes that focused exclusively on ag-
riculture as the main prerequisite for the establishment of a stable
political state.”266
With these impulses towards an agrarian identity, the Timurids
adopted wholesale the Perso-Islamic Weltanshauung and its privi-
leging of hierarchical societal systems, bureaucratic sophistication,
poetic values, scholarly standards, and of course courtly extrava-
gance. Persian literature was certainly not different, and historians
and appropriate specialists have long noted the Timurid penchant
for prose, prosody, and rhetoric.267 With the ongoing valency of
264 Maria Subtelny, Timurids in Transition: Turko-Persian Politics and Accul-
turation in Medieval Iran (Leiden, 2007), pp. 106–7.
265 Subtelny, Timurids in Transition, p. 107.
266 Subtelny, Timurids in Transition, p. 114. Also see Maria Subtelny, “A Me-
dieval Persian Agricultural Manual in Context: The Irshâd al-zirâʿa in
Late Timurid and Early Safavid Khorasan,” Studia Iranica 22/2 (1993)
pp. 167–217.
267 Marta Simidchieva, “Imitation and Innovation in Timurid Poetics: Kâsh-
ifi’s Badâʿ i al-afkâr and its Predecessors, al-Muʿ jam and Hadâ’iq al-sihr,”
IrSt 36/4 (2003), pp. 509–30; Maria Subtelny, “A Taste for the Intricate: The
66
the polymath, or “scholar-bureaucrat” in this Perso-Islamic soci-

ety, highly placed administrators in the Timurid court operated in
a number of prose and poetic traditions with confidence. In this
way, we have a number of enshâ’ manuals and collections that were
produced by well-known and well-situated litterateurs, historians,
and religious scholars across Timurid society.
Resâle-ye qavânin by Mo’in-al-Din Mohammad Zamchi

Esfezâri (d. 915/1510)268
One such individual was Mo’in-al-Din Mohammad Zamchi Es-

fezâri, who joined Timurid ranks as a young man in his twenties
and acted as a secretary in the service of Majd-al-Din Mohammad
Khwâfi, himself a notable in the court of Soltân-Hoseyn Bâyqarâ.269
In 895/1490, his patron passed away, and Esfezâri switched to the
patronage of Qevâm-al-Din Nezâm-al-Molk Khwâfi, who had been
vizier since the early 1470 s.270 According to the Majâles al-nafâ’es
Persian Poetry of the Late Timurid Period,” ZDMG 136/1 (1986), pp. 56–
79; idem, “Scenes from the Literary Life of Tīmūrid Herat,” in R. M. Savory
and D. A. Agius, eds., Logos Islamikos: Studia Islamica in Honorem Georgii
Michaelis Wickens (Toronto, 1984), pp. 137–55; Ehsan Yarshater, “Persian
Poetry in the Timurid and Safavid Period, 14 th –18 th Centuries,” in CHIr,
VI, pp. 965–94; idem, She’r‑e Fârsi dar ahd‑e Shâhrokh (Tehran, 1955), Ma-
ria Szuppe, “Historiography v. Timurid Period,” in EIr, XII, pp. 356–63;
idem, “Le Khorassan aux XIVe –XVIe siècles: la littérature savante comme
expression de l’unité avec la Transoxiane,” in L. Cirillo, ed., La Persia e
l’Asia Centrale de Alessandro Magno al X secolo (Rome, 1996), pp. 149–
64; Chad Lingwood, “Jami’s Salaman va Absal: Political Statements and
Mystical Advice Addressed to the Aq Qoyunlu Court of Sultan Yaʿqub (d.
896/1490),” IrSt 44/2 (2011), pp. 175–91.
268 This work has four manuscript copies: MS Patna, Khuda Bakhsh Library,
no. 1098/xxxiv (contains only the introduction), MS London, The British
Library, India and Islamic Collection, no. 2082; MS Mashhad, Adabiyyât
no. 216; and MS Tehran, Ketâbkhâne-ye Majles‑e Senâ, no. 318. This chap-
ter works with the Tehran and Patna copies (henceforth Teh. and Pat.).
269 Maria Subtelny, “Esfezāri, Moʿin al-Din Mohammad Zamchi,” EIr, VIII,
p. 595.
270 Maria Subtelny, “Centralizing Reform and its Opponents in the Late Timu-
rid Period,” IrSt 21/1–2 (1988), p. 130.
67
PERSIAN PROSE
by Mir Ali Shir Navâ’i, his epistolary style was undervalued by

the leading Timurid monshi, Abd-al-Vâse’ Nezâmi (to be discussed
after Esfezâri);271 Khwândamir provides a curt biographical note
in the Habib al-siyar, noting that he was a minor poet who also
penned a geographical history of Herat and a collection of enshâ’.272
The dibâche to his Resâle-ye qavânin (Treatise of Regulations)273
bears no rubric and begins with poetry extolling God and his cre-
ation of the universe through the metaphors of pen, paper, and
writing. Indeed, the prose which follows is unflinchingly commit-
ted to this particular rhetorical device. Several Qur’anic verses are
introduced in chancellery terms, such as “He is the Artisan who is
a monshi who demonstrates his decrees by writing the two letters
kâf and nun on the page of ‘verily, when He intends a thing, His
command is ‘be and it is’ (36:82)”; in a parallel sense, he writes how
“He is the scribe whose decree shares news from the alef of the pen
and the nun of the word which takes shape with ‘Nun. By the pen
and the [record] which [men] write’ (68:1).”274 The ensuing poetry
(nazm) combines this chancellery motif with a discernible sense of
theosophy:
The stars and the orbiting of the sun are His thread/
Each of the two worlds is one decree from His pen
But they come together with the nib of His pen of dominion/
Each of the two worlds is like the two-tongued pen
The celestial of celestials shows His domination/
The king of kings is a copy of His written decree275
Esfezâri continues to demonstrate his Sufi inclination with such
chancellery metaphors by talking about God’s knowledge (alim) as
271 Subtelny, “Esfezâri,” p. 595.

272 Ghiyâth-al-Din Homâm-al-Din Mohammad Khwândamir, Habib al-siyar
fi akhbâr‑e afrâd‑e bashar, ed. M. Dabir-Siyâqi (4 vols., Tehran, 1954), III,
p. 348.
273 Subtelny, “Esfezâri,” p. 596, notes that the title of his enshâ’ work has not
consistently been referred to as such in the different manuscripts (labeled
simply as the enshâ’ or tarassol of Esfezâri).
274 Esfezâri, Resâle-ye qavânin, fols. 1 b–2 a (Teh.), fol. 1 b (Pat.).
275 Esfezâri, Resâle-ye qavânin, fol. 2 a (Teh.), fol. 1 b (Pat.).
68
“a Pen of those writers [who work] in the workshop of creation.”276

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

278 Esfezâri, Resâle-ye qavânin, fol. 2 b (Teh.); fol. 2 a (Pat.).
279 Esfezâri, Resâle-ye qavânin, fol. 2 b (Teh.); fol. 2 a (Pat.).
280 Esfezâri, Resâle-ye qavânin, fol. 3 a (Teh.); fol. 2 a (Pat.); Nezâmi Ganjavi,
Sharaf-nâme, ed. V. Dastgardi (Tehran, 1937), pp. 14–17.
69
PERSIAN PROSE
Esfezâri assumes predictably an autobiographical tone and talks

of his early introduction to the rhetorical arts, and his own ob-
session with strange and wonderful words and the allusions and
hidden meanings woven by the past masters of eloquence. In the
subsequent discussion of his own epistolary contributions un-
der the sponsorship of Soltân-Hoseyn Bâyqarâ, Esfezâri employs
consistent metaphors of place and space (emârât, amsâr, târom‑e
chahârom, manzel, boldân, aqâlim‑e âlam, mantaqe). Such an
emphasis on locus is not surprising, since Esfezâri was relatively
well known for producing a detailed topography and history of
the city of Herat, the Rowzat al-jannat fi owsâf madinat Harât,
which is organized according to chapters and sections respectively
entitled rowze (“garden”) and chaman (“field”).281 Interestingly, he
also quotes poetry in this section (with no acknowledgment) from
Qâzi Hamid-al-Din Omar b. Mahmud Balkhi (d. 559/1164), who
himself penned an ekphrastic poem to his home city of Balkh (Fi
owsâf al-Balkh) in his Maqâmât‑e Hamidi.282 Esfezâri also dis-
cusses here his master-disciple relationship with the great Sufi poet
Abd-al-Rahmân Jâmi, and cites several of his verses.283
We finally turn to Esfezâri’s thoughts on enshâ’ on fol. 9 a of
the Tehran copy284 of the Resâle-ye qavânin: “towards the expla-
nation of these pages which has been done according to the path of
Tarassol‑e tavassol.”285 It is certainly not surprising that Esfezâri
would have invoked the work of Bahâ’-al-Din Baghdâdi, but he
lacks Baghdâdi’s sophistication and analysis in regard to the de-
bates about artificial and natural poetry and prose. As will be
demonstrated, Esfezâri drew upon a wide array of sources in put-
ting together his dibâche; in a few isolated cases, he refers to his
sources, but by and large this work does not rank highly in its
281 Mo’in-al-Din Mohammad Zamchi Esfezâri, Rowzat al-jannat fi owsâf ma-
dinat Harât, ed. S. M.K. Emâm (2 vols., Tehran, 1960).
282 See his section entitled Fi owsâf al-Balkh, in Hamid-al-Din Omar b. Mah-
mud Balkhi, Maqâmât‑e Hamidi, ed. Rezâ Anzâbi-Nezhâd (Tehran, 1993),
pp. 161–72.
283 Esfezâri, Resâle-ye qavânin, fols. 7 a-b (Teh.); fol. 3 b–4 a (Pat.).
284 The Patna copy of the introduction concludes on fol. 4 b, and does not pro-
vide this section of the moqaddame.
285 Esfezâri, Resâle-ye qavânin, fol. 9 a (Teh).
70
originality or consistent exposition on the elm‑e enshâ’. In con-

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

fasl—on the tools and necessities of writing—simply describes the
quotidian features of the scribal arts (pens, inks, line-spacing, etc.).
Esfezâri also discusses the etiquette of writing from the Abbasid
period onwards. Here, he introduces what he calls the “heritage of
the predecessors” (ma’âther‑e aslâf), and mentions the well-known
story of the caliph al-Ma’mun’s proposal and wooing of Burân, the
daughter of Hasan b. Sahl, versions of which have been given by
Nezâmi Aruzi and others.290 Esfezâri’s condensed account focuses
on the first intimate “meeting” of the caliph with Burân: When
the consummation of the marriage was interrupted by the sudden
onset of her menses (and consequent ritual impurity), the modest
maiden aptly recited “The command of God has come, do not seek
to hasten it” (Qur’an 16:1), and the quote sank into the foundations
of the caliph’s soul. While Nezâmi Aruzi emphasizes how this in-
tensified the caliph’s affection for her, Esfezâri chooses instead to
highlight the young woman’s Qur’anic recitation as an example of
effective eloquence.291 Esfezâri’s next narrative—again borrowed
and redacted from Nezâmi Aruzi (hekâyat‑e avval)—is the story
of Eskâfi, the main chancellery official of the Samanid ruler, the
Amir Nuh b. Mansur.292 In this parable, Esfezâri recounts how Es-
kâfi fled the patronage of Nuh b. Mansur (based in Bukhara) to
join the court of Alptegin at Herat. When Alptegin later instructed
Eskâfi to respond in kind to a particularly incendiary missive from
Nuh the Samanid, Eskâfi invoked Qur’an 11:32 (“Oh Noah, you
have disputed with us, and you have [greatly] prolonged the dispute
with us. Now bring upon us what you have threatened us with, if
you are speaking the truth”), adroitly manipulating the name of the
Samanid ruler with the historical and prophetic exemplar, Noah, or
Nuh.293 The last narrative provided in Esfezâri’s Resâle-ye qavânin
290 Nezâmi Aruzi Samarqandi, Chahâr maqâle, pp. 32–36 (Persian edition).
291 Esfezâri, Resâle-ye qavânin, fol. 12 b (Teh.); Nezâmi Aruzi, Chahâr maqâle,
p. 36 (Persian edition).
292 Esfezâri, Resâle-ye qavânin, ff. 12 b–13 a (Teh.); Nezâmi Aruzi, Chahâr ma-
qâle, pp. 22–24 (Persian edition).
293 Esfezâri, Resâle-ye qavânin, ff. 13 a–b (Teh.); Nezâmi Aruzi, Chahâr ma-
qâle, p. 24 (Persian edition).
72
is in regard to an epistolary exchange between Mahmud of Ghazna

(d. 421/1030) and the Abbasid caliph, al-Qâder-be’llâh (d. 422/1031).
This is not borrowed from Chahâr maqâle, but taken rather from
Key-Kâvus b. Eskandar’s Qâbus-nâme, specifically his section
regarding the importance of the secretarial arts.294 We learn how
the caliph had sent a robe of honor (khel’at) and his confirmation
of the new titulature for Mahmud as Yamin-al-Dowle and Amin-
al-melle. Mahmud subsequently demanded control of Samarqand,
and al-Qâder-be’llâh responded quickly with a definitive no. In
reply, Mahmud compared himself to Abu-Moslem and threatened
the caliph and the city of Baghdad with a thousand elephants.295
The caliphal response to the Ghaznavid threat came on a rolled up
scroll of “Mansuri paper” (kâghaz‑e Mansuri), and when the court
unrolled the missive, the main scribe read aloud the opening words
of “In the Name of God, the Merciful and the Compassionate.”
However, following this was written simply the letters alef, lam,
and mim. For days, the Sultan and his functionaries struggled to
make sense of this, but it was a young scholar by the name of Abu-
Bakr Qohestâni who provided the explanation: these letters were
in reference to the opening letters of Qur’an 105:1—“Did you not
see how your Lord dealt with the men of the elephants?”296
While Esfezâri borrows (without attributing) from the classical
Perso-Islamic prose repertoire, it would be fair to say that he cau-
tiously avoided the strong penchant in these writings for the alleged
superiority and pivotal contribution of pre-Islamic Iran. Esfezâri’s
narratives on scribal culture are culled and presented in such a way
as to underscore a deliberate message of orthodoxy and prophetog-
raphy. The question remains: why would we see such a shift from
the earlier broadminded, theo- and philosophical outlooks of his
294 Key-Kâvus b. Eskandar b. Qâbus b. Vashmgir b. Ziyâd Onsur-al-Ma’âli,

Qâbus-nâme, ed. Gholâm-Hoseyn Yusofi (Tehran, 1996), pp. 207–15; tr.
R. Levy as A Mirror for Princes: The ‘Qābūs nāma’, (New York, 1951),
pp. 200–204.
295 Esfezâri, Resâle-ye qavânin, fol. 13 b; Kay-Kavus b. Eskandar, Qâbus-nâme,
p. 208, tr. p. 202. A Mirror for Princes, p. 202; Persian edition, p. 208.
296 Esfezâri, Resâle-ye qavânin, ff. 13 b–14 a; Kay-Kavus b. Eskandar, Qâ-
bus-nâme, pp. 208–9, tr. pp. 203–4.
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predecessors? Of course, Esfezâri’s own convictions are certainly

in play here, but we wonder if the religio-political landscape of the
mid-15th century Timurid Persianate world is not also worth con-
sidering. To some extent, Timur was interested in profiling him-
self as a divinely sanctioned, Shari’a-endorsing Perso-Islamic ruler,
and this program of legitimacy carried over into the 15th century.297
Shortly after his ascension in 814/1411, Shâhrokh (d. 850/1447)
demonstrated his repudiation of the Steppe tradition and his new
commitment to Perso-Islamic sedentarized rule by formally abol-
ishing the Turco-Mongolian court of law (yârghu) and “customs of
the Töre” (rosum‑e tura). This eschewing of nomadic values went
hand-in-hand with the Timurid adoption of a sedentarized view
of public and private space that was regulated heavily by a com-
prehensive system of juridical traditions. The Timurids were nom-
inally Hanafi in their interpretation of the Shari’a, but as Subtelny
and Khalidov have argued, the reign of Shâhrokh was witness to a
profound dispute among prominent religious intelligentsia. While
al-Sayyed al-Sharif al-Jorjâni (d. 816/1413) and his scions had pro-
moted the application of reason and philosophy in their roles as re-
ligio-legal plenipotentiaries of the Timurid state, the conservative
Sa’d-al-Din Mas’ud Taftâzâni (d. 791/1389) challenged such un-
sound propensities by emphasizing traditional, authority-based ap-
proaches and arguments.298 Fascinatingly, this Jorjâni-Taftâzâni de-
bate was largely based on how to interpret rhetoric (balâghat) in the
context of commentaries on Sakkâki’s formative Meftâh al-olum
of the early 13th century. By and large, Taftâzâni stood in line with
previous generations of Arabic grammarians and rhetoricians who
rejected the notion that limitless imagination (khiyâl) is the danger-
ous cornerstone of prose and poetry; indeed, literary devices such
as saj’ were anathema to Taftâzâni who likened it to the “cooing
of pigeons.”299 By examining the curriculum which was endorsed
by Shâhrokh for his madrasa complex in Herat, we see “a vindi-
cation of al-Taftāzāni and his scholarship [which] indicated that it
297 Michele Bernardini, Mémoire et propagande à l’époque Timouride (Paris, 2008).
298 William Smyth, “Controversy in a Tradition of Commentary: The Academic
Legacy of Al-Sakkākī’s Miftāḥ al-ʿUlūm,” JAOS 112/4 (1992), pp. 594–97.
299 Stewart, “Sajʿ in the Qur’ān,” p. 107.
74
was his more conservative approach, which stressed jurisprudence

and the religious sciences over al-Jorjānī’s which favored philoso-
phy and the ‘foreign sciences,’ that was to set the direction in law
and higher learning.”300 It seems reasonable to suggest that Esfezâri
and the Timurid court under Soltân-Hoseyn Bâyqarâ were—to
some extent—influenced by the “conservative and legalistic nature
of the Sunni revival under Shāh-Rokh.”301 At the same time that we
acknowledge Esfezâri’s commitment to orthodoxy and prophetog-
raphy in the dibâche of the Resâle-yi qavânin, we nonetheless have
to recognize a Sufi impulse. Again, the work of Maria Subtelny is
helpful in this regard. Her examination of the shrine of Abd-Allâh
Ansâri in Herat demonstrates the degree to which the Timurids
were comfortable with looking to and relying on the mausoleum
of a well-noted Hanbalite religious personality such as Ansâri to
shore up their program of dynastic ideology and sense of legitima-
cy.302 In this way, the Hanafi Timurid embrace of Ansâri, who had
emerged somewhat ironically under the Karts and Timurids as an
“orthodox” Sufi capable of extending spiritual protection (barakat),
reflects in many ways Esfezâri’s rationalization of enshâ’ within the
parameters of what was commonly accepted in the 15th century as
an “orthodox Sufism” when discussing the Naqshbandis and their
bailiwick in the Timurid court from the mid-15th century onward.303
300 Maria Subtelny and Anas Khalidov, “The Curriculum of Islamic Higher
Learning in Timurid Iran in the Light of the Sunni Revival under Shāh-
Rukh,” JAOS 115/2 (1995), p. 214.
301 Subtelny and Khalidov, “The Curriculum of Islamic Higher Learning in
Timurid Iran,” p. 236.
302 Maria Subtelny, “The Cult of ʿAbdullāh Anṣārī under the Timurids,” in A.
Giese and J. C. Bürgel, eds., Gott ist schön und Er liebt die Schönheit (Bern,
1994), pp. 378–79.
303 Devin DeWeese, “The Eclipse of the Kubraviyah Order in Central Asia,” IrSt
21/1–2 (1988), p. 56; Jo-Ann Gross and Asom Urunbaev, The Letters of Khwâja
‛Ubayd Allâh Aḥrâr and His Associates (Leiden, 2002), pp. 14–17; Jo-Ann Gross,
“The Polemic of ‘Official’ and ‘Unofficial’ Islam,” in F. de Jong and B. Radtke,
eds., Islamic Mysticism Contested: Thirteen Centuries of Controversies and Po-
lemics (Leiden, 1999), pp. 520–40; Dina Le Gall, The Culture of Sufism: Naqsh-
bandis in the Ottoman World, 1450–1700 (Albany, 2005), pp. 135–37; Muzaffar
Alam, “The Debate Within: A Sufi Critique of Religious Law, Tasawwuf and
Politics in Mughal India,” South Asian and Culture 2/2 (2011), pp. 145–47.
75
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Mansha’ al-enshâ’ by Nezâm-al-Din Abd-al-Vâse’ Nezâmi

Bâkharzi (d. 909/1503)304
Our next epistolographic station is Nezâm-al-Din Abd-al-Vâse’

Nezâmi Bâkharzi’s Manshâ’ al-enshâ’ (Wellspring of Enshâ’).
Khwândamir is considerably more enthusiastic in his appraisal of
Bâkharzi, describing how, some months after the (second) ascen-
sion of Soltân-Hoseyn Bâyqarâ in 875/1470, he was commissioned
to write a Timurid history; when the ruler saw his intricate use
of metaphors and other rhetorical devices, Bâkharzi was promptly
installed in the chancellery of the main vizier, Khwâje Nezâm-al-
Molk Khwâfi, while also providing instruction on prose and writ-
ing to the vizier’s children.305 Mir Ali-Shir Navâ’i wrote in his Ma-
jâles al-nafâ’es: “regarding the art of enshâ’, [Bâkharzi] is skillful
and masterful, and there is no one equal to him.” 306 The Dastur
al-vozarâ discusses the indebtedness of Khwâje Kamâl-al-Din
Hoseyn and Khwâje Rashid-al-Din Amid-al-Molk—the sons of the
vizier Nezâm al-Molk Khwâfi—towards their former teacher in his
teaching of administrative principles and the literary arts.307 The
contents of the Manshâ’ al-enshâ’ were penned by Bâkharzi him-
self,308 but the compilation was in fact organized by Abu’l-Qâsem
Shehâb-al-Din Ahmad Khwâfi (with the takhallos Monshi) some
time after Bâkharzi’s death in 909/1503; thus, the Manshâ’ al-en-
shâ’ is contemporaneous with another epistolographic manual of
interest: the Makhzan al-enshâ’ by Hoseyn Vâ’ez Kâshefi (to be
304 Nezâm-al-Din Abd-al-Vâse’ Nezâmi (Bâkharzi), Manshâ’ al-enshâ’, Vol. I,

ed. Rokn-al-Din Homâyunfarrokh (Tehran, 1978).
305 Khwândamir, Habib al-siyar, III, p. 339.
306 Mir Ali-Shir Navâ’i, Tadhkere-ye majâles al-nafâ’es, ed. Ali-Asghar Hek-
mat (Tehran, 1985), p. 99, p. 276.
307 Ghiyâth-al-Din b. Homâm-al-Din Khwândamir, Dastur al-vozarâ, ed.
Sa’id Nafisi (Tehran, 1939), pp. 424–25.
308 It should be noted that the editor of Manshâ’ al-enshâ’, Rokn-al-Din
Homâyunfarrokh, suggests in his introduction that Hoseyn Vâ’ez Kâshefi
may have played a role in the writing of the first volume of this work, or
at least commissioned it, while suggesting that Abu’l-Qâsem Khwâfi him-
self wrote the second volume. See his prefatory remarks in Abd-al-Vâse’
Nezâmi (Bâkharzi), Mansha’ al-enshâ’, pp. 7–15, p. 30.
76
discussed shortly). In this way, our main focus—the dibâche—was

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

(Bâkharzi), Mansha’ al-enshâ’, p. 27.
310 Abd-al-Vâse’ Nezâmi (Bâkharzi), Mansha’ al-enshâ’, I, p. 3.
77
PERSIAN PROSE
and title (Nezâm al-Haqq va’l-Haqiqat), and in lieu of a biography

we are given what appears to be a subtle ejâze of sorts; what follows
is arguably a description of his different religious qualities, but it
is far more compelling to read the text as indirect references to a
body of scholarly work which had been formative for Bâkharzi.
In this way, Abu’l-Qâsem talks of his “sound fundamentals of re-
ligion” (sahâh‑e aqâyed) which comprise the “law of healing and
salvation” (qânun‑e shefâ’ va najât) where he wrote with “pure al-
lusions” (eshârât‑e sâfiyye) and “enduring admonitions (tanbihât‑e
kâfiye).”313 Of course, these are references to titles attributed to
the great philosopher and physician, Ebn-Sinâ: al-Qânun fi’l-tebb,
al-Shefâ’314, Ketâb al-najât315, and al-Eshârât va’l-tanbihât.316 It
would also appear that Abu’l-Qâsem Khwâfi was not above mining
the lode of epistolary writing of Bâkharzi himself; Khwâfi intro-
duces the “gardens of eloquence and rhetoric—which have sources
and wellsprings for the fountains of rank and station—are made
verdant and prosperous with the moistures of the cascades of quick
wits.”317 This is directly borrowed from a farmân penned earlier
by Bâkharzi on behalf of the head librarian of the royal library
of Soltân-Hoseyn Bâyqarâ (and which appears in the Manshâ’
al-enshâ’). Bâkharzi writes how “our treasury-garden (i. e. library)
which is both a waterhole (mashra’e) and a wellspring (manba’) of
the fountains of Gnostic (ma’âref) and customary (avâref) knowl-
edge.318 Other rearrangements and replications are provided by

314 Part of this has been edited and translated; see Ebn-Sinâ, al-Shefâ’: al-Elâhi-
yyât, ed. and tr. M. Marmura as The Metaphysics of ‘The Healing’: A Paral-
lel English-Arabic Text (Provo, 2005).
315 Ebn-Sinâ, Ketâb al-nâjât, ed. and tr. Fazlur Rahman as Avicenna’s Psychol-
ogy: An English Translation of ‘Kitâb al-Nâjât’, Book II, Chapter VI with
Historical-Philosophical Notes and Textual Improvements on the Cairo
Edition (Oxford, 1952).
316 Ebn-Sinâ, al-Eshârât va’l-tanbihât, ed. S. Duny (Cairo, 1960).
318 Abd-al-Vâse’ Nezâmi (Bâkharzi), Manshâ’ al-enshâ’, I, p. 204. This was
discovered on account of the entry “Hosayn Bâyqarâ” provided by the
Dâ’erat al-Ma’âref‑e Ketâbdâri va Ettalâ’‑e Rasâni on their website (http://
portal.nlai.ir/daka/default.aspx).
78
Abu’l-Qâsem, but when Bâkharzi’s eulogist talks of his writings

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

79
PERSIAN PROSE
between Kâshefi and Abu’l-Qâsem Khwâfi.324 This degree of in-

volvement by Hoseyn Vâ’ez Kâshefi serves as an excellent segue to
proceed to the next epistolographic work of interest, Kâshefi’s own
Makhzan al-enshâ’.
Makhzan al-enshâ’ by Hoseyn Vâ’ez Kâshefi (d.

910/1504–5)325
Our final repository of epistolography is Hoseyn Vâ’ez Kâshefi’s

Makhzan al-enshâ’ (Treasury of Enshâ’), produced in 907/1501–2
by one of the preeminent polymaths of the late Timurid period.326
This work327 provides innumerable tables and indices which list
appropriate titulatures, blessings, invocations, and other forms
of salutatios which might make up a typical medieval Perso-Is-
lamic letter produced by an official chancellery; moreover, these
inventories are organized on the basis of rank in society—exalted
(alâ), noble (ashraf), and middling (owsat)—as well as duties and
vocation. In many ways, the Makhzan al-enshâ’ is evocative of
the 14th-century Dastur al-kâteb by Nakhjavâni and its predispo-
sition towards categorization and ranking of a model Perso/Tur-
co-Islamic state. Kâshefi begins with a series of Arabic and Persian
encomiums to God, and quotes Qur’an 17:70 (“We have honored
324 Abd-al-Vâse’ Nezâmi (Bâkharzi), Mansha’ al-enshâ’, I, pp. 9–10.
325 MS Patna, Khudabakhsh Library, 9:76; MS Paris, Bibliothèque nationale,
no. 73; MS London, British Library, Add. 25,865; other later Indian copies
are available in Hyderabad (Salar Jung Museum and Andhra Pradesh Ori-
ental Government Manuscripts Library), Rampur (Reza Rampur Library),
and Aligarh (Mawlana Azad University Library).
326 For a detailed discussion of Kâshefi’s various contributions, see the special
issue of IrSt 36/4 (2003) edited by Maria Subtelny.
327 Although different manuscript copies are available, this essay relies on the
Paris copy, namely Bibliothèque nationale, no. 73. In fact, this is one of the
earliest known copies (dated 1546) of the Makhzan al-enshâ’. It originally
belonged in the private library of the great French statesman, Colbert. In
all likelihood, this copy came originally from the Ottoman Empire since
Colbert had sent men like the Marquis de Nointel and Antoine Galland to
the Levant in the 1670 s and 1680 s for the purposes of, among other things,
collecting Oriental manuscripts.
80
humanity”) to argue how the created world was bestowed with the
elegance of reason (jamâl‑e aql) and the generous power of excel-
lent, perfected speech.328 With this, Kâshefi shifts to praising the
Prophet Mohammad, and how the light of his eloquence is orna-
mented and stamped with the great toghrâ of “I know you, I am
from Quraish“ (anâ a’rafakom anâ men Qoreysh).”329 “It is clear
[that] man’s nature is inherently urban” and Kâshefi further clar-
ifies how “the basis of civilization consists of living together with
other people because a single person is incapable of preparing the
means of subsistence without the help of a group of people.”330 The
phrase used by Kâshefi—ensân‑e madani be’l-tab’– and the worl-
dview it reflects are borrowed directly from the 13th-century Akh-
lâq‑e Nâseri by Khwâje Nasir-al-Din Tusi. Tusi used this phrase in
his treatment of the need for social stratification in a model Islamic
society: “if men were equal, they would all perish. The human spe-
cies is naturally in need of combination and cooperation, and this
type of combination is called ‘civilized life.’ ”331 That this particu-
lar emphasis of Nasirean ethics appears in Kâshefi is not surprising
given that Kâshefi penned his own ethics manual, the Akhlâq‑e
Mohseni, which in turn was largely based on the Akhlâq‑e Nâseri
and the Akhlâq‑e Jalâli by the philospher Jalâl-al-Din Davvâni (d.
906/1501–2). Kâshefi also rationalizes how God distinguished hu-
mankind with the honor of speech so that what remains hidden
in a person’s heart may spring forth into the realm of existence by
means of utterance.
In Kâshefi’s estimation, a scribe is a melodious parrot whose
tongue casts ornamented phrases and whose image (somewhat
ironically) is an embodiment of the idiom: “if it were not for the
tongue, there would be no men.”332 In this way, the scribe moves
the beautiful, letter-forming pen and adorns the pages of exposi-
tion with the beautiful Arabic phrase: “knowledge is the molder
328 Kâshefi, Makhzan al-enshâ’, Bibliothèque nationale, fol. 2 b.

331 Nasir-al-Din Tusi, Akhlâq‑e Nâseri, tr. G. M. Wickens as The Nasirean
Ethics (London, 1964), p. 210.
332 Kâshefi, Makhzan al-enshâ’, Bibliothèque nationale, fol. 3 a.
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PERSIAN PROSE
of words, pouring ideas into the molds of letters.”333 Coquettishly,

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

339 Kâshefi, Makhzan al-enshâ’, Bibliothèque nationale, fols. 4 a–b.
82
introduces his work formally as the Makhzan al-enshâ’ and pres-

ents a rough table of contents.341 Like Nakhjavâni’s own prefatory
remarks in the Dastur al-kâteb, Kâshefi unveils his own formal
introduction; interestingly, this is not styled as a dibâche, nor as a
moqaddame, but as an onvân.342
This onvân is devoted to describing the role of the scribe. A
writer should be conversant with the knowledge of literary sci-
ences, and he should not be deficient in the study of the rules of
Arabic. It is also necessary that he study Arabic and Persian po-
etry, and Kâshefi describes the importance of dressing the brides of
prose writings (arâ’es‑e manthurât) with the ornaments of poetry
(be-zivar‑e manzumât). Not surprisingly, Kâshefi is adamant that
a scribe be intimately familiar with the ranks of different social
strata of each group of peoples in the world so that he can describe
each person in a way that was commensurate with his status, again
a hallmark feature of Nakhjavâni’s Dastur al-kâteb. Similarly,
Kâshefi writes that the scribe should guard against strange words,
repulsive phrases, and wild expressions; a writer should not shame-
lessly flaunt eloquence and rhetorical style, but “speak to people ac-
cording to their intellect.”343 Kâshefi explains how there are three
rough divisions to abide by: the most sublime (a’lâ), namely sul-
tans, amirs, governors, sodurs, viziers, and those of the administra-
tion; the most honored (ashraf), including sayyeds, qâzis, shaikhs,
learned ones, etc.; and the third middle group (owsat) who are pro-
vincial notables, heads of tribes, merchants, and feudal chiefs. This
impulse towards social stratification should not be at all surpris-
ing. This is, in part, on account of the fact that Nakhjavâni—on
whom Kâshefi relied extensively—was similarly disposed. How-
ever, we should also acknowledge the fact that Kâshefi subscribed
to a long and well-established selsele of mirrors-for-princes—Tusi’s
Akhlâq‑e Nâseri, Nezâm-al-Molk’s Siyâsat-nâme, Davvâni’s Akh-
lâq‑e Jalâli—which consistently adopted and promoted social and

342 We are reminded here of Mohammad b. Abd-al-Khâleq Meyhani’s own
unique rubric to his preface so many centuries earlier during the Saljuq era;
Meyhani, Dastur‑e dabiri, p. 1.
83
PERSIAN PROSE
vocational differentiation as a means of ensuring proper modes of

authority and social order.
Discussing Kâshefi’s defense and promotion of the interde-
pendence and interchangeability of poetry and prose is a useful
means to sum up the chimera-like tradition of enshâ’ during the
period 1000–1500. This medieval discursive nexus emerged at a
crucial time when literate Persephones were seeking to locate an
identity for themselves and their language. At the same time that
Persian was beginning its ascent as a poetic, courtly, and adminis-
trative language, Arabic grammarians and literary scholars were
very much still mired in debates—often acrimonious—regarding
“natural” (matbu’) Arabic and the “artifical” (masnu’) language as-
sociated with the new “style” (badi’) and its penchant for fanciful
rhetoric and literary devices. While much of this heated exchange
was focused squarely on the poetic tradition, there is reasonable
evidence to suggest that prose literature and epistolography offered
new and unfenced pasturelands for roaming litterateurs and mon-
shi stylists.344 It seems reasonable to suggest that epistolographic
prose in Arabic—as a genre—was not especially well-disposed to-
wards poetry, and various promoters went so far as to posit the su-
periority of prose over poetry. The Persian literati and bureaucrats
developed the epistolographic genre in a way that their Arab coun-
terparts never did; it is only in the Saljuq period that scholars like
Bahâ’-al-Din Baghdâdi were concerned about these long-standing
debates regarding masnu’ and matbu’. By the time when Kâshefi
was writing in the 15th century, such separation and distinction has
been largely effaced, and the respective genres of poetry and prose
have been totalized and refashioned in the ongoing definition of
enshâ’. Moreover, it should be also noted that enshâ’ never aban-
doned its Arabic provenance, and there is good reason to see such
epistolary texts as Arabo-Persian rather than exclusively “Persian”
in the way that we might expect in formative poetic texts like the
Shâh-nâme.
The genre of epistolary writing, relatively unfettered and un-
encumbered by the rules and strictures of poetry, also allowed for
344 Stetkevych, “From Jāhiliyyah to Badīʿ iyyah,” pp. 215–17.
84
individuals to profile an entire spectrum of disciplines and topics:

history, prophetography, tafsir, Hadiths, philosophy, theosophy,
bureaucratic culture, political ethics, and—somewhat ironically—
poetry; regarding the latter, monshis were quite fancy-free and
footloose in their quotation of poetry, dropping beyts and hemis-
tichs whenever and wherever they pleased with little regard for any
larger concerns of the conventions of rhetoric or rhyme. Arguably
the most innovative and creative approaches came during the Mon-
gol era, when individuals like Hakim-al-Din Mohammad b. Ali
al-Nâmus Khwâri seized upon enshâ’ as a genre to rationalize and
promote an Avicennan cosmology which sought to find concilia-
tion and common ground between the philosophers and the tra-
ditionalists during a time when the Perso-Islamic world was most
vulnerable and—not surprisingly—most creative. In his insightful
essay “Scientific and Philosophical Enquiry: Achievements and
Reactions in Muslim History,” Oliver Leaman discusses the larger
implications of philosophical discussion in the medival Islamic
world. For Leaman, it is not an issue of contrasting “those who
supported reason and those who did not. Reason is needed just as
much to determine what the law says on a particular topic as it is
required to work out whether an Aristotelian argument is valid or
not.”345 Nonetheless, there was a larger debate taking place across
the intellectual landscape: how should the theoretical problems of
the Islamic world be resolved? Would it be the “philosphers in-
spired by Greek science and philosophy, or would it be the ʿolamâ’
and the foqahâ’, the traditional Islamic scholars and jurists?”346 We
also have to acknowledge that the relatively ecumenical and unre-
stricted landscape which emerged after the destruction of the ca-
liphate in 1258 would have played no small role in such innovations,
although one could certainly argue that such trends were well in
play since the 11th century.
By the time of Kâshefi, enshâ’ had become a staple discipline for
the typical “scholar-bureaucrat,” and to be sure it was considered
345 Oliver Leaman, “Scientific and Philosophical Enquiry: Achievements and
Reactions in Muslim History,” in F. Daftary, ed., Intellectual Traditions in
Islam (London, 2000, p. 36.
346 Leaman, “Scientific and Philosophical Enquiry,” p. 36.
85
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de rigeur among bureaucratic literati to produce an epistolographic

manual during one’s career; thus, the proliferation of such texts in
the 15th and 16th centuries. Kâshefi was an exemplar of such poly-
mathic trends and contributed a prolific number of texts on various
traditions; however, many of these were replicated and redacted
from previous eras—Makhzan al-enshâ’ (after Dastur al-kâteb),
Badâye’ al-afkâr fi sanâye’ al-ash’âr (after Al-Mo’ jam fi ma’âyer
ash’âr al-Ajam), Akhlâq‑e Mohseni (after Akhlâq‑e Jalâliyye), An-
vâr‑e soheyli (after Kalile va Demne), etc.—but it should be noted
that the Fotovvat-nâme-ye soltâni appears to be quite original
and singular as a discursive text. Nonetheless, as Subtelny notes:
“Kashefi set for himself a mission to assemble and transmit the cul-
tural patrimony of his age; he was motivated by a conscious plan
to create something akin to an everyman’s library of his time.”347
The sense here is that this popularization and distilling of various
genres amongst a greater spectrum of courtiers, poets, and schol-
ars was a hallmark feature of the Timurid and later Safavid and
Mughal periods. However, the genre of Persian enshâ’ during its
genesis in the Saljuq period (Meyhani, Joveyni, Baghdâdi)—and
its elaboration during the Mongol era (Ebn-al-Zaki, Nakhjavâni,
Khwâri)—was arguably a space of unrestricted expression that al-
lowed contribution to the ongoing debate about orthodoxy, ortho-
praxy, philosophy and theosophy, on the most profound level.
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96
CHAPTER 2
ADVICE LITERATURE
Louise Marlow
An ethical sensibility and a concern with moral instruction feature

prominently in large portions of the Pahlavi (Middle Persian) and
New Persian literary corpora, produced over some two millennia.
Even when restricted, for the purposes of the present volume, to
writings principally in prose, the terrain of advisory discourse in
Persian is difficult to contain. Among the pertinent conceptual ar-
eas are andarz, “advice,” and its near-synonyms pand and nasihat
(Ar. nasihe, pl. nasâ’eh); akhlâq (Ar.), “moral dispositions,” and by
extension, ethics; kherad, “wisdom,” and hekmat (Ar. hekme, pl.
hekam), also denoting a wise maxim or moral aphorism; ahd (Ar.,
pl. ohud) and vasiyye (Ar., pl. vasâyâ), “testament”; mow’eze (Ar.,
pl. mavâ’ez), exhortation or admonition; adab (Ar., pl. âdâb), in
this context a model (or models) or prescription(s) for appropriate
and praiseworthy behavior. These designations sometimes imply
particular literary forms—the terms pand and hekmat, for example,
both sometimes denote a single maxim—but more commonly they
evoke elements of tone or register; not infrequently, more than one
of these terms may be used in connection with a single text.
This chapter will address four types of literary expression in
which the advisory objective has featured most conspicuously.
These categories are, in order, the individual sentence and collec-
tions of such sententiae; collections of narratives and cycles of sto-
ries; mirrors for princes; and philosophically informed treatises on
the subject of ethics.1 These four modalities are not fully separable
from one another. The first two categories constitute identifiable
1 Discussed in Sections 2–5, below.
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advisory genres in their own right; they also provided a repertoire

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

Arabic, and Persian Advisory Literatures
Literary articulations of ethical counsel are common to the Pahlavi

and New Persian corpora alike, and, as several scholars have demon-
strated, the two bodies of literature display countless instances of
continuity.3 Ebn-al-Moqaffa’ (d. ca. 757), Abân‑e Lâheqi (d. 815),
2 See Chapters 6, 7, 8, and 9. Note: Throughout the present chapter, transla-
tions from the Arabic and Persian texts, unless otherwise indicated, are by
the author; the corresponding page numbers in published translations will
also be provided.
3 See, for example, Shaul Shaked, “Andarz and Andarz Literature in Pre-Is-
lamic Iran,” in EIr, I, pp. 11–16; idem, “From Iran to Islam: Notes on
Some Themes in Transmission,” Jerusalem Studies in Arabic and Islam 4
(1984), pp. 31–67; Z. Safa, “Andarz Literature in New Persian,” in EIr, I,
pp. 16–22; Mohsen Zakeri, Persian Wisdom in Arabic Garb: ʿAlī b. ʿUbayda
98
Advice Literature
Ali b. Obayda Rayhâni (d. 834), and Sahl b. Hârun b. Râhaveyh

(d. 830) translated and adapted numerous late Sasanian texts from
Pahlavi into Arabic, and their literary activities ensured that the
Pahlavi literature known as andarz (a term used in New Persian as
well), now in Arabic forms, not only added to the growing textual
corpus available in Arabic but also contributed significantly to the
development of Arabic literary culture, or adab. Arabic, in fact,
provided a common medium for the reception, dissemination, and
development of a vast and diverse repertoire of aphorisms; Sanskrit,
Greek and Syriac materials also passed into Arabic, sometimes
through the intermediate language of Pahlavi.4 A widely circulated
Arabic version of a Sasanian andarz text was the Ahd‑e Ardashir
(Testament of Ardashir), which was incorporated in its entirety
into Arabic histories and anthologies, and cited copiously in works
of advice literature, in Arabic and Persian alike. In the voice of Ar-
dashir, founder of the Sasanian dynasty, and addressed to his son
and successor, the Ahd‑e Ardashir consists of passages that articu-
late principles of kingship, define causes and consequences of po-
litical stability and instability, and prescribe specific governmental
policies and practices.5
al-Rayḥānī (D. 219/834) and His ‘Jawāhir al-kilam wa-farāʾ id al-ḥikam’

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

reportedly rendered into Arabic by Ebn-al-Moqaffa’, survives only
in a much later Persian version. In the voice of Tansar (or Tōsar),
chief herbad of Ardashir, and intended to establish the latter’s le-
gitimacy, the Tansar-nâme presents a more developed articulation
of the principles enunciated in the Ahd‑e Ardashir. Although the
ideas expounded in the Tansar-nâme entered the Arabic and Per-
sian advisory discourses, later writers cite the text considerably less
frequently than Ahd‑e Ardashir, perhaps a reflection of its loss in
its Arabic form at a relatively early date.6
Another formative text in the Arabic and Persian advisory liter-
atures was Ebn-al-Moqaffa’’s translation of Kalile va Demne, the
collection of allegorical fables in which various animals portray the
roles of king and courtiers. Kalile va Demne derives in part from
the Indian Pañcatantra, which had been rendered into Pahlavi in
the Sasanian period. Perennially popular, the Arabic version (or
perhaps versions) provided the foundation for numerous rework-
ings, in countless languages, including New Persian, and in poetry
as well as prose. Among the most noted Persian reworkings were
the prose version of Nasr-Allâh b. Mohammad Monshi, made for
Bahrâm Shâh of Ghazna (r. ca. 1117–57), and its revision, under-
taken by Hoseyn Vâ’ez Kâshefi (d. 1504) at the Timurid court in
Herat and entitled Anvâr‑e Soheyli (Lights of Canopus).7
The pre-Islamic past contributed to the formation of Persian ad-
visory literature not only by means of the direct continuities facil-
itated through the translation of texts, but also as a carrier of sym-
bolic significance. Wisdom, deemed universal and eternal, grew
more meaningful with the passage of time; its roots lay in the remote
past, and it seemed to have presaged, and made comprehensible, the
6 Nâme-ye Tansar be-Goshnâsp, rev. ed. Mojtabâ Minovi (Tehran, 1975), tr.
Mary Boyce as The Letter of Tansar (Rome, 1968).
7 See François de Blois, Burzōy’s Voyage to India and the Origin of the Book
of Kalīlah wa Dimnah (London, 1990); Marianne Marroum, “Kalila wa
Dimna: Inception, Appropriation, and Transmimesis,” Comparative Lit-
erature Studies 48 (2011), pp. 512–40; Christine van Ruymbeke, Kāshefi’s
‘Anvār‑e Sohayli’: Rewriting ‘Kalila and Dimna’ in Timurid Herat (Leiden,
2016).
100
Advice Literature
present and the future. Writing in Arabic, the great writer, histo-
rian, and ethicist Abu-Ali Meskaveyh of Rayy (d. 1030) recorded
the wisdom of the Persians, Indians, Arabs, Greeks, and Muslims;
he introduced this collective body of wisdom with the report that
it derived from an ancient Persian work, the Jâvedân kherad (Pe-
rennial Wisdom), said to have been the testament of the primordial
Iranian king Hushang.8 A similar type of symbolism underlies the
accounts of the caliph al-Ma’mun’s (r. 813–33) visit to the tomb of
Khosrow I Anushervan (r. 531–79), and the Buyid ruler Azod-al-
Dowle’s (r. 949–83) visits to Persepolis.9 In these narratives of dis-
covery, the living rulers not only benefit from the reflected prestige
of the great kings of the past; they also gain access to the great trea-
sury that comprises the forgotten wisdom of antiquity, and this
blessing, inherent in their encounters with their wise predecessors,
lends a kind of logic to their lives in the present. This association
of wisdom, especially the wisdom necessary to royal power, with
the great kings and sages of the past remains a central feature of the
Persian advisory, ethical and didactic literary traditions.
It was in Khorasan and Transoxiana that New Persian first ap-
peared and flourished as a literary language. Fostered in these re-
gions during the period of the Samanids (819–1005) and continued
under their successors, the Ghaznavids (977–1186), Persian became
an established linguistic medium across numerous literary genres
and intellectual discourses. Under the Buyids (932–1062) in Iraq
and the western regions of Iran, Persian speakers, as the case of
Meskawayh illustrates, continued to employ the Arabic language
for all literary purposes. The establishment of the Saljuq state
8 Meskaveyh, al-Hekme al-khâlede: Jâvidân kherad, ed. Abd-al-Rahmân

Badawi (Cairo, 1952), p. 5.
9 Key-Kâvus b. Eskandar, Qâbus-nâme, ed. Gholâm-Hosayn Yusofi (Teh-
ran, 1989), p. 29, tr. Reuben Levy as A Mirror for Princes (London 1951),
pp. 44–45; Abu-Hâmed Ghazâli, Nasihat al-moluk, ed. Jalâl Homâʾi (Teh-
ran, 1972), p. 138, tr. F. R. C. Bagley as Ghazālī’s Book of Counsel for Kings
(Naṣīḥat al-mulūk) (London, 1964), pp. 81–82; Sheila S. Blair, The Monu-
mental Inscriptions from Early Islamic Iran and Transoxiana (Leiden, 1992),
pp. 32–35; A. S. Melikian-Chirvani, “Le royaume de Salomon: les inscrip-
tions persanes de sites achéménides,” Le monde iranien et l’Islam 1 (1971),
pp. 1–41.
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brought the use of Persian, already current in the eastern regions,

to the formerly Buyid domains of Iraq and western Iran, and it was
under the Saljuqs and their successors that advisory writing in Per-
sian expanded further into the north-western regions of Iran and
Anatolia. Similar processes of literary-linguistic diffusion followed
the rise of later Persianate polities, notably the Ilkhanid state and
its successors. Eventually, the production of advisory texts in Per-
sian occurred across a terrain that stretched from Delhi to Istanbul.
2. Moralizing Sentences and Collections of Sententiae
The moral sentence, a terse and often artfully crafted statement

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

pp. 19–131.
102
Advice Literature
Dhu’l-Qarnayn was asked, “In what aspects of your kingdom do

you take pleasure?” He replied, “In two things: the first is justice and
equity (adl-o dâd); the second is that I am able to recompense any
person who is kind to me with even greater kindness.”
Bozorgmehr was asked, “In what factors does the king’s strength
reside?” He answered, “The king’s strength appears in four things:
in preserving the frontiers of his kingdom in his campaigns, in re-
pelling his enemies, and in his holding dear of the learned (dânâyân)
and the virtuous (ahl‑e fazl).”11
The Pahlavi, Arabic and Persian literatures of sententiae cover a
variety of subjects. Mary Boyce’s identification in the Pahlavi rep-
ertoire of three types—the utterance or gnome expressing an ob-
servation, the gnome conveying prudential advice, and the gnome
teaching a moral point—remains useful in the Arabic and Persian
contexts.12 Many examples treat virtues and vices; a common for-
mula is the definition, often proffered in response to a question:
A sage was asked, “What constitutes wealth?” He replied, “Content-
ment.” Next, he was asked, “What constitutes passionate love (eshq)?”
“Sickness of the soul, and unwillingness to die,” he answered.
A sage once said, “The essence of greatness lies in taking trouble; the
essence of error lies in acting in haste; and the essence of pettiness
lies in being mean-spirited.”13
At least as common are injunctions, sometimes supported with
cautionary exhortations:
Speak the truth, though it be bitter; and if you wish your enemy not
to know your secret, then do not divulge it to your friend.
If you wish people to speak well of you, then speak well of other
people.14
Some examples invoke divine stipulations and religious principles:
11 Ghazâli, Nasihat al-moluk, pp. 104, 129, tr., pp. 58, 75.
12 Mary Boyce, “Middle Persian Literature,” in HdO, IV, p. 51.
13 Ghazâli, Nasihat al-moluk, pp. 230, 233, tr., pp. 139, 141.
14 Ascribed to Anushervan in Key-Kâvus b. Eskandar, Qâbus-nâme, pp. 52–
53 (maxims 10, 11, 32), tr., pp. 46–47.
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Recognize the value of your life as the profession of the divine unity.
Make godliness your provision for the afterlife.
Know that right belief is a treasure that is never exhausted.15
Several maxims discuss wealth and poverty, gratitude and ingrati-
tude, justice and injustice, and other pairings of opposites:
Just as justice renders the world prosperous, so injustice brings it
into ruin.
The best of kings is he who turns the bad practices in his kingdom
into good ones, and the worst of kings is he who turns good prac-
tices into bad ones.16
A fairly large number of maxims deal with kingship and gover-
nance. For the most part, however, sententiae convey a wisdom
that held meaning for everyone. The prevalence in the aphoristic
literature of the figure of the king arose less from the particular
relevance to kings of moral instruction than from the especially
compelling illustrations of universal truths (the virtues of humility,
patience; the perils of ingratitude, arrogance) that kings could pro-
vide for the benefit of all of humanity.
In the Persian (and indeed also the Arabic) literary cultures,
wise maxims functioned in several ways. Often compiled in writ-
ten collections, they also circulated orally, and they retained an
important performative role. The ability to produce an appropriate
quotation—whether a proverbial statement or an edifying verse of
poetry—constituted an essential qualification for access to the so-
ciety of the educated élites, for participation in courtly gatherings
and keeping the company of the powerful, and for administrative
and secretarial service. It was a particular mark of wit to be able
not only to cite a pertinent aphorism but also to produce, in extem-
poraneous fashion, a modified, elaborated, or versified counterpart
15 Pand-nâme-ye Mâtoridi, ed. Iraj Afshâr, Farhang‑e Irân-zamin 9 (1961), p. 49.

16 Ascribed to Ahnaf b. Qeys and Alexander respectively; Ghazâli, Nasihat
al-moluk, pp. 153, 159, tr., pp. 92, 96.
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Advice Literature
or riposte to it.17 It was a particular hallmark of virtuosity to pos-

sess bilingual mastery of the moralistic repertoire—to be able to
adduce and coin appropriate maxims in both Arabic and Persian,
and even to combine the two languages in single maxims.
Part of the meaning of a maxim lay in its attachment to an es-
teemed figure of the past. Aristotle, Ardashir, Anushervan, Bo-
zorgmehr, and Loqmân appear frequently as exponents of wise
sayings, and sometimes as “authors” of collections of such pro-
nouncements. Although these attributions are not entirely stable,
they are not arbitrary either. Of special interest is the collection
known as Piruzi-nâme or Zafar-nâme (Book of Victory) as-
cribed to Bozorgmehr, who reportedly composed it in response to
Anushervan’s request for “a work of counsels, concise in words but
ample in meaning, of utility in this world and the next.” According
to a report, Abu-Ali Ebn-Sinâ (d. 1037), at the behest of the Sa-
manid Amir Nuh b. Mansur (r. 976–97), translated Bozorgmehr’s
Piruzi-nâmak from Pahlavi into Persian. Reiterating patterns com-
mon in Pahlavi works of andarz, the Zafar-nâme opens with five
statements, each structured on the number five: five things that
derive solely from decree and destiny, and to attain which the ser-
vant’s efforts will be to no avail; five things that are attainable by
the servant’s earnest striving and effort; five things that are innate;
five things that are habitual, or formed by habit; and five things
that are hereditary. The text then adopts the form of question-and-
response, with Bozorgmehr in either the inquiring or the respond-
ing role, depending on the transmitted text.18
With the appearance in the 9th century (Arabic) and the 10th or
early 11th century (Persian) of collections of maxims, numbers sup-
ply one of the principal devices for the selection and arrangement
of sententiae. Often designated by the names kherad-nâme, zafar-
nâme, or pand-nâme, the Persian collections record set numbers
17 For examples of such improvisation, see Mohsen Zakeri, “The Literary Use
of Proverbs and Myths in Nāṣir-i Khusrau’s Dīvān,” in Julia Rubanovich,
ed., Orality and Textuality in the Iranian World (Leiden, 2015), pp. 289–306.
18 Gholâm-Hosayn Sadiqi, Zafar-nâme mansub be-Sheykh‑e Ra’is‑e Abu-
Ali Sinâ (Hamadan, 2004); Hamd-Allâh Mostowfi Qazvini, Târikh‑e go-
zide, ed. Abd-al-Hoseyn Navâʾi (Tehran, 1960), pp. 67–70.
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of ten, thirty, forty, or one hundred pronouncements; internally,

these utterances are often subdivided or grouped according to
speaker or theme.
Among the earliest collections to be linked with a contempo-
rary authority rather than with the venerated figures of antiquity is
the Pand-nâme-ye Mâtoridi (Mâtoridi’s Book of Counsels), which,
while compiled later than the early tenth-century date implied by
its attribution (Mâtoridi is reported to have died in 943, 944, or
947), almost certainly preserves older materials. This Pand-nâme
consists of ten chapters, unequal in length, each of which contains
a number of terse homiletic aphorisms, grouped loosely according
to theme.19
The association of this Pand-nâme with Mâtoridi points to the
Transoxanian and Khorasanian context for the generation of the
first ethical and exhortative writings in Persian. The same environ-
ment saw the composition of edifying and instructive poetry, in-
cluding the Âfarin-nâme (completed in 947) of Abu-Shakur Balkhi,
and, in the same meter of motaqâreb, the Shâh-nâme of Ferdowsi
(completed in 1010).20 Ferdowsi’s Shâh-nâme rapidly assumed the
status of a universal “mirror for princes,” its verses providing elo-
quent counsel and commentary in subsequent advisory and histo-
riographical writings, and its evocative meter adopted in numerous
later works.21
Of particular importance in the development of this repertoire
of maxims, in Arabic and Persian, is the figure of Ali b. Abi-Tâ-
leb, who acquires an unparalleled reputation for his combining
of surpassing wisdom with supreme eloquence. Among the earli-
est examples of the collection of one hundred sayings—a popular
genre in both languages—is the Miʾe kaleme, compiled in Arabic
19 Pand-nâme-ye Mâtoridi (see above, n. 15).

20 Gilbert Lazard, Les premiers poètes persans (IXe –Xe siècles) (2 vols., Tehran,
1964), I, pp. 91–109; Dhabih-Allâh Ṣafâ, TADI, I, pp. 369, 403–8.
21 Nasrin Askari, The Medieval Reception of the Shāhnāma as a Mirror for
Princes (Leiden, 2016); Julie Scott Meisami, “The Šâh-nâme as Mirror for
Princes: A Study in Reception,” Pand-o Sokhan (1995), pp. 265–73; Charles
Melville, “Between Firdausī and Rashīd al-Dīn: Persian Verse Chronicles
of the Mongol Period,” Studia Islamica 104–5 (2007), pp. 45–65.
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by Jâhez (d. 868) and subsequently rendered into Persian as Sad

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

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

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

ed. Ja’far She’âr (Tehran, 1970), pp. 4–5, 19.
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also composed, for his Ismaili patron (mohtasham) Nâser-al-Din

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

ran, 1960).
26 De Fouchécour, Moralia, p. 149.
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specific topics, many authors cited numbers of maxims, ascribed to

a variety of figures—as several of the previously mentioned exam-
ples already demonstrate, numerous authors of moralia combine
the dicta of Alexander, Ardashir, and Anushervan with the words
of ancient sages, prophets, and revered figures of the early Islamic
period—in order to substantiate their arguments and to provide
their audiences with multiple modes of access to their texts. This
feature, as Section 4 will illustrate further, is especially prevalent in
the extended, often book-length advisory texts known as “mirrors
for princes.”
3. Collections of Narratives and Cycles of Stories
A second literary vehicle for the conveyance of advice is the nar-

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

cultures, and as it moved between prose and poetry. The Send-
bâd-nâme and the Bakhtiyâr-nâme, the linguistic antecedents or
backgrounds to which are uncertain, similarly passed in adapted
forms from language to language, often furnishing authors with
materials for moral expression. The former collection, from the
10th century onwards, circulated in Persian in several versions, and
from the 12th and 13th centuries, its stories provided exempla for
the use of preachers. Like the Arabic Alf layle va layle (Thousand
and One Nights), the prefaces to these collections of fictional texts
frequently present them as vehicles of moral instruction; it is pos-
sible, perhaps likely, that these claims reflect in part an anxiety on
the part of the translator, storyteller or copyist regarding the value
of fictional tales. At least for the modern reader, the inferences to
be drawn from the stories are not always entirely self-evident; the
stated purpose of moral education nevertheless provided a suffi-
cient justification for a vast and varied corpus of literary produc-
tion in Persian.28
Many collections of edifying narratives, like Sa’di’s Bustân and
Golestân, were dedicated to political figures, whose patronage the
authors either received or sought. This context accounts in part
for the presentation of these collections as explicit conveyances of
political advice and moral education. The Sendbâdh-nâme of Za-
hiri of Samarqand, dedicated, like the same author’s previously dis-
cussed Aghrâz al-siyâse, to the Karakhanid Abu’l-Mozaffar Kılıç
Tamğâç Khâqân (r. 1161–71), provides an example. In his preface,
Zahiri articulates the ideal, frequently expounded as the conceptual
28 The complex, sometimes perplexing nature of the lessons implied in authors’

narratives has been highlighted in Christine van Ruymbeke, “Dimna’s Trial
and Apologia in Kāshifī’s Anvār-i Suhaylī. Morality’s Place in the Corrupt
Trial of a Rhetorical and Dialectical Genius,” JRAS 26 (2016), pp. 549–83;
idem, “What Is It That Khusraw Learns from the Kalīla-Dimna Stories?”
in Johann-Christoph Bürgel and Christine van Ruymbeke, eds., A Key
to the Treasure of the Hakīm: Artistic and Humanistic Aspects of Nizāmī
Ganjavī’s Khamsa (Leiden, 2011), pp. 145–66; Neguin Yavari, “Mirrors for
Princes or a Hall of Mirrors? Niẓām al-Mulk’s Siyar al-mulūk Reconsid-
ered,” al-Masāq 20 (2008), pp. 47–69; idem, Advice for the Sultan, pp. 45–
60, 109–42.
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foundation for offerings of political advice in Persian contexts, of

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

Arapça Sinbād-nāme ile birlikte (Istanbul, 1948), pp. 3–5.
30 Sendbâd-nâme, pp. 21–30.
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PERSIAN PROSE
exceptionally just and virtuous king of Hindustan, had engendered

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

patronage.31
The maxim and the narrative constituted two central elements
in the development of advisory discourses in Persian. They also
formed, as the previous sections have indicated, in themselves the
bases of advisory genres. The fourth and fifth sections of this chap-
ter discuss two modes of didactic writing, the mirror for princes
and the ethical treatise, to which the maxim and the narrative con-
tribute, but which also exhibit wholly distinctive characteristics.
4. Mirrors for Princes
The term “mirror for princes,” adopted from its usage in the me-
dieval Latin and vernacular European linguistic contexts, denotes
here the corresponding, and very extensive, literature of advice for
rulers in Persian. Like the collections of counsels and stories dis-
cussed in the preceding sections, this type of advisory literature
also displays a close interaction between the Arabic and Persian, as
well as, in this case, the Turkish, corpora. Before the composition
in the later part of the 11th century of the first full-length mirrors
in Persian (the Qâbus-nâme [1082] and Siyar al-moluk [Conduct
of Kings, 1086–91]), authors whose mother tongue was almost cer-
tainly Persian, such as Tha’âlibi (961–1038), had composed such
books in Arabic, and these writings constituted important points
of reference, even as the Persian mirror literature would develop a
distinct trajectory. Yusof Khâss Hâjeb, moreover, had composed
his versified allegory Kutadgu bilig (Wisdom of Royal Glory, 1069),
a mirror dedicated to the Karakhanid prince, Tavǧaç Kara Buǧra
Khan (Hasan b. Solaymân, r. 1074–1102), in Turkish. The Arabic
works of Tha’âlibi and the Turkish Kutadgu bilig composed in
Kashghar reflect environments shaped by Perso-Islamic concepts
of political culture.
31 Sa’d-al-Din Varâvini, Marzbân-nâme, ed. M. Rowshan (Tehran, 1988).
115
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The dedicatees of mirrors, like the addressees of panegyrics, re-

flected prevailing conditions of power and patronage. Many au-
thors addressed their mirrors to highly placed local political fig-
ures or to viziers, and the rededication of mirrors to successive
patrons became common practice. Notwithstanding the implicit
presumption that the royal recipient of a mirror stood in need of
moral edification, the receipt of a mirror also contributed to the
ruler’s moral stature. The ruler’s act—symbolized by his accep-
tance of the mirror—of listening attentively to advice and exhor-
tation constituted in itself a legitimating practice. Records suggest
that some rulers indeed strived to emulate their admired forbears,
whose exemplary conduct had been relayed through instructive
advisory discourses.32 The lessons of mirrors, however, were in-
tended not only for kings, princes, atabegs, and viziers, but also for
the entire courtly population, if not, indeed, for groups beyond the
court. Mirror-writers frequently devoted sections or chapters of
their books to the qualities of, requirements for and responsibili-
ties of various professional groups active in and sometimes beyond
courtly settings, such as boon companions, secretaries, poets, as-
tronomers, and physicians—the last four of these groups were iden-
tified in the early 12th-century Chahâr maqâle of Nezâmi Aruzi
Samarqandi as essential to the king.33 At least some mirror-like
writings appear to have envisaged a female courtly audience.34
Mirrors for princes exhibit a certain consistency in their subject
matter. Among the topics most commonly encountered in mirrors
are the indispensability of personal virtue in the ruler, on whose
sound governance the well-being of all his subjects, entrusted to
his care by God, depends; the centrality of justice to the harmoni-
ous working of all components of the realm; the need for the ruler
32 Cf. Ali Anooshahr, The Ghazi Sultans and the Frontiers of Islam (London,
2009), p. 10.
33 Nezâmi Samarqandi, Chahâr maqâle, ed. Mohammad Mo’in (Tehran, 1952),
p. 19; cf. Ashk P. Dahlén, “Kingship and Religion in a Mediaeval Fürsten-
spiegel: The Case of the Chahār Maqāla of Ni ̇żāmī ʿArūẓī,” Orientalia
Suecana 58 (2009), pp. 9–24.
34 Nasrin Askari, “A Mirror for Princesses: Mūnis-nāma, A Twelfth-Century
Collection of Persian Tales,” Narrative Culture 5 (2018), pp. 121–40.
116
Advice Literature
to uphold the religious law and abide by it in his rulings and in his
personal conduct; the importance of his cultivation of learning and
his patronage of the learned; the imperative of his soliciting of ad-
vice from scholars and sages, and his paying heed to their counsels;
the necessity of his control of his temper and his restraint from the
meting out of punishments in haste; and the incalculable benefits
to him and his subjects of his study of the ways of past kings.35 If
these topics and themes recur across numerous strands of advisory
literature, mirrors are, at the same time, in many cases highly in-
dividual texts; all of them reflect and respond to the particular cir-
cumstances in which they were written. Authors of mirrors them-
selves hailed from a variety of backgrounds: some were rulers, such
as Key-Kâvus b. Eskandar (r. 1049–87), or viziers, such as Nezâm-
al-Molk (1019–92); many were administrators or secretaries; some
were religious scholars, jurists, judges, theologians, and preachers,
such as Ghazâli (1058–1111); some were Sufis, some philosophers,
and others men of letters. The mirrors that have garnered most
attention, among medieval and modern readers alike, tend to be
those by or ascribed to prominent and celebrated figures, whose
actual authorship of the works attributed to them modern scholars
have quite frequently called into question.36
The earliest mirrors in Persian take the form of testaments, that
is, compositions drafted in the voice of an elderly, experienced ruler
for his son and assumed successor. An early example of this genre
35 On the enduring theme of justice, see A. K. S. Lambton, “Justice in the Me-

dieval Persian Theory of Kingship,” Studia Islamica 17 (1962), pp. 91–119;
idem, “Changing Concepts of Justice and Injustice from the 5th /11th to the
8th /14th Century in Persia: The Saljuq Empire and the Ilkhanate,” Studia
Islamica 68 (1988), pp. 27–60; Maria Eva Subtelny, Le monde est un jardin:
Aspects de l’histoire culturelle de l’Iran médiéval (Paris, 2002), pp. 53–76;
Said Arjomand, “Medieval Persianate Political Ethic,” Studies on Persi-
anate Societies 1 (2003), pp. 3–28; Linda T. Darling, “‘Do Justice, Do Justice,
For That Is Paradise’: Middle Eastern Advice for Indian Muslim Rulers,”
Comparative Studies of South Asia, Africa and the Middle East 22 (2002),
pp. 3–19.
36 Stefan Leder, “Aspekte arabischer und persischer Fürstenspiegel: Legitima-
tion, Fürstenethik, politische Vernunft,” in Angela de Benedictis, ed., Spe
cula principum (Frankfurt, 1999), pp. 21–50.
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is the Pand-nâme (Book of Advice) attributed to the founder of the

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

38 Key-Kâvus b. Eskandar, Qâbus-nâme, pp. 51–55, tr., pp. 45–48.
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acquisition of wealth and the safeguarding of trusts; the purchase of

slaves, houses, and estates; horses; marriage, the raising of children,
the choosing of friends, and the mindfulness of enemies, punish-
ment, and forgiveness. Chapters 31–43 cover the professional lives
of the student, jurist, and teacher, the conduct of commerce, the
sciences of medicine, astronomy, and geometry, the conduct of the
poet and musician, royal service, the careers of the boon compan-
ion, secretary, vizier, and commander of the army, and the practice
of agriculture and craftsmanship. The final, long chapter, which
marks the culmination of Key-Kâvus’s mirror, treats the quality of
javânmardi (chivalry), which, grounded in wisdom (kherad), hon-
esty (râsti), and manly virtue (mardi), earns its possessor a good
reputation in this life and a reward in the next.
Often noted for its pragmatism, the Qâbus-nâme also exhibits a
strong sense of propriety; encouraging moderation, kindness, and
the avoidance of harm, Key-Kâvus guides his audience towards
the worthiest response in a variety of contingencies.39 Key-Kâvus
makes extensive use of verses of poetry and maxims, in both Ara
bic and Persian, in order to ascribe meanings to the experiences
that have comprised his life. He also relates fifty narratives (hek-
âyât), several of which involve not the paradigmatic figures of the
remote past but near-contemporaries of the author, who witnessed
a number of the episodes that he describes.
It was, as previously noted, under the Great Saljuqs that the
use of Persian became established in the formerly Buyid domains
of Iraq and western Iran. A celebrated advisory text and its re-
markable author featured visibly in this process. Nezâm-al-Molk
(d. 1092), vizier to the Saljuq rulers Alp Arslân (r. 1063–72) and
Malekshâh (r. 1072–92), wrote his Siyar al-moluk (Conduct of
Kings), also known as Siyâsat-nâme (Book of Governance), at the
behest of Sultan Malekshâh. Since Bert Fragner has contributed a
detailed account and interpretation of this book elsewhere in this
39 De Fouchécour, Moralia, pp. 184–222; Soheila Amirsoleimani, “Of This

World and the Next: Metaphors and Meanings in the Qābūs-nāmah,” IrSt
35 (2002), pp. 1–22.
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volume, only a few remarks will be made here.40 The work, which,
as several scholars have shown, is as much historiographical and
political-philosophical as it is “ethical,” was written in two parts,
apparently at different periods of the author’s career. According
to Nezâm-al-Molk’s own account, Malekshâh solicited, in 1086 or
1091, a treatise on governance, and approved of Nezâm-al-Molk’s
submission of thirty-nine chapters. Later, the vizier reportedly
composed an additional eleven, considerably darker, chapters, so
that in its final form Siyar al-moluk consisted of a total of fifty
chapters. It appears that the final, more critical text was never pre-
sented to Malekshâh, who died a mere month after the assassina-
tion of Nezâm-al-Molk. Siyar al-moluk reflects Nezâm-al-Molk’s
substantial administrative experience, and it offers advice on spe-
cific governmental and court-related problems. One of the most
striking aspects of the text is Nezâm-al-Molk’s deployment less of
maxims than of extended historical narratives. Drawn from Sasa-
nian, Islamic and Iranian subjects and usually involving fully his-
torical figures, Nezâm-al-Molk’s narratives present his interpre-
tation of history, shaped, like other historiographical writings, in
accordance with his didactic intentions.41
Nezâm-al-Molk’s illustrious contemporary and a fellow native
of Tus in Khorasan, the scholar, theologian, and polymath Abu-
Hâmed Ghazâli (1058–1111) wrote a number of advisory works,
in Arabic and Persian. Sometimes addressing rulers and in other
cases addressing a general audience, Ghazâli composed two works
of this kind in Persian. The first of the Persian pair is Kimiyâ-ye
sa’âdat (Alchemy of Happiness), Ghazâli’s Persian abridgement
and adaptation of his Ehyâ’ olum al-din (Revivification of the Re-
ligious Sciences), addressed to the common people. Like its Arabic
40 See Chapter 7. Additionally, among the many publications dedicated to
Nezâm-al-Molk and to Siyar al-moluk, see especially Yavari, Advice for the
Sultan; idem, The Future of Iran’s Past.
41 See Yavari, Advice for the Sultan; idem, Future of Iran’s Past; Julie Scott
Meisami, Persian Historiography to the End of the Twelfth Century (Ed-
inburgh, 1999), pp. 145–62; Marta Simidchieva, “Kingship and Legitimacy
as Reflected in Niẓām al-Mulk’s Siyāsatnāma, Fifth/Eleventh Century,” in
B. Gruendler and L. Marlow, eds., Writers and Rulers (Wiesbaden, 2004),
pp. 97–131.
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predecessor, the Kimiyâ is structured according to four headings

(knowledge of the self, knowledge of God, knowledge of this
world, and knowledge of the world to come) and four pillars (acts
of worship, social transactions, the removal of impediments to reli-
gion, and personal prayers). Among the materials not found in the
Ehyâ’ is a mirror, homiletic in tone and reflecting a Sufi-inflected
conceptual and social environment. In this mirror, Ghazâli sets
forth ten instructions for rulers. Supported with numerous Pro-
phetic pronouncements, these instructions stress the necessity of
justice and the perils of injustice (“A single day in the life of a just
ruler is better than sixty years’ continuous worship,” in the Proph-
et’s words); they admonish the ruler not to be preoccupied with
the satisfaction of his desires, nor to seek to satisfy any person if to
do so would involve transgression of the religious law; and to seek
avidly the advice of pious scholars. Throughout the text, Caliph
Omar provides an example of a ruler whose justice displayed the
practical performance of his faith.42
The second of Ghazâli’s political-advisory compositions in Per-
sian is the Nasihat al-moluk (Counsel for Kings). Composed for
either Mohammad b. Malekshâh (r. 1105–18) or his brother Sanjar
(r. 1097–1157 in eastern Iran; 1118–57 throughout the Saljuq do-
minions), this well-known treatise consists of two parts. Only the
first part, which bears a marked resemblance to the mirror con-
tained in the Kimiyâ, is clearly the work of Ghazâli; the authorship
of the second part is a matter of scholarly dispute, with strong ar-
guments advanced for its composition by an individual other than
Ghazâli.43 Whatever its initial genesis, this two-part mirror has, in
fact, experienced a long history of reception as a Ghazâlian text:
its two parts were already conjoined in the second half of the 12th
42 Ghazâli, Kimiyâ-ye sa’ âdat, ed. A. Ârâm (2 vols. in 1, Tehran, 1966), I,
pp. 481–98; Carole Hillenbrand, “Islamic Orthodoxy or Realpolitik? Al-
Ghazālī’s Views on Government,” Iran 26 (1988), 90–92; de Fouchécour,
Moralia, pp. 223–51.
43 Patricia Crone, “Did al-Ghazālī Write a Mirror for Princes? On the Au-
thorship of Naṣīḥat al-mulūk,” JSAI 10 (1987), pp. 167–91; C. Hillenbrand,
“Islamic Orthodoxy or Realpolitik?,” p. 91; for the affirmative perspective,
see Omid Safi, The Politics of Knowledge in Premodern Islam: Negotiating
Ideology and Religious Inquiry (Chapel Hill, 2006), pp. 115–21.
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century, when the mirror was translated into Arabic under the title
al-Tebr al-masbuk fi nasihat al-moluk (Fashioned Gold: On the
Counsel of Kings). The first part portrays rulership as a divine gift,
for which the ruler will be held accountable at the Last Day; it
places great emphasis on the ruler’s personal virtue. The second
part exhibits a contrasting perspective. Kings, like prophets, oc-
cupy a preferential position in the divine order, which establishes
a division of labor between the two privileged categories: prophets
show men the way to God, while kings protect people from one
another and are responsible for the well-being of humankind; the
ruler, who is God’s shadow on earth, has received the “divine aura”
(farr‑e izadi), symbol of his legitimate, divinely bestowed sover-
eignty. The author of this second part of Nasihat al-moluk invokes
an eclectic set of models of royal justice; prominent among these
models are the pre-Islamic Iranian kings, the foundation of whose
justice lay in their divinely given royal charisma. Some aspects of
this vision of sovereignty are not dissimilar from the outlook artic-
ulated in Siyar al-moluk.44
The advisory writings of Ghazâli evince a strongly homiletic
quality, articulated to a significant degree in a manner that reflects
the author’s attachment to the system of meaning associated with
the Sufi path. Khorasan, where Ghazâli was born and educated,
and to which he returned for the final years of his life, witnessed
the emergence and spread of the khânaqâh, as well as the devel-
opment of a theory and language of Sufism, both in Arabic (in
the writings of Abu’l-Qâsem Qosheyri [d. 1072]]) and Persian (in
the work of Ali b. Othmân Hojviri [d. 1072–77]). Various types
of literature linked, at least indirectly, with the dissemination of
Sufi-inflected concepts and values possessed advisory dimensions:
the edifying sayings of sheykhs, narratives of the sheykhs’ exem-
plary way of life, stories of the shaykhs’ fearless confrontations
with power, instructions for initiates, and the adoption of Sufism
as a vehicle for political and social commentary, even on occasion
robust criticism of a ruling figure—these expressions of edification
44 Ghazâli, Nasihat al-moluk, p. 81, tr., p. 45.
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and exhortation lie beyond the scope of this chapter.45 A contem-

plative, self-examining, and sometimes exhortative quality came
to permeate a large portion of the cultural production expressed
in Persian, whether in poetry or prose. It is apparent in the twelfth-
and early thirteenth-century compositions of, among other poets,
Sanâʾi (d. 1150), Khâqâni (d. 1198) and Nezâmi Ganjavi (d. 1217).46
It finds full development in the oeuvre of Sa’di, who in his Go-
lestân, as will be described in greater detail below, articulates his
lessons by way of narratives, condensed in economical fashion into
evocative vignettes, and maxims, in verse and in prose, rather than
by way of systematic exposition.
The later 12th and early 13th centuries saw the rise to indepen-
dent power of several atabegs, initially tutors to Saljuq princes,
in the western and north-western regions of the Saljuq domains.
Among the advisory texts dedicated to such provincial rulers is the
markedly homiletic and equally encyclopedic Bahr alfavâʾed (The
Sea of Virtues), composed in Syria in the mid-12th century by an
anonymous Shafi’i author for the Atabeg Arslân Aba b. Aq Sun-
qur. The thirty-six books that comprise this hybrid text, which
displays a significant debt to Ghazâli’s Kimiyâ, cover a particularly
broad range of topics, including problematic judgments, matters of
etiquette, the bringing up of children, the cure of sins, gems, refu-
tation of the Greeks, wonders and marvels, and many other topics.
Notably, the author invokes almost exclusively Muslim authorities,
among whom several Sufi figures appear.47
Composed for the Atabeg Uzbek b. Nosrat-al-Din Mohammad
Pahlavân (r. 1210–25) of Azerbaijan, the Farâ’ed al-soluk fi fazâ’el
45 See below, Chapter 8.

46 Julie Scott Meisami, Medieval Persian Court Poetry (Princeton, 1987), esp.
pp. 180–236.
47 Bahr al-favâ’ed, ed. M. T. Dâneshpazhuh (Tehran, 1966), tr. J. S. Meisami
as The Sea of Precious Virtues (Baḥr al-favāʾ id) (Salt Lake City, 1991). See
further de Fouchécour, Moralia, pp. 263–75; Geert Jan van Gelder, “Mir-
ror for Princes or Vizor for Viziers: The Twelfth-Century Arabic Popular
Encyclopedia Mufīd al-ʿulūm and Its Relationship with the Anonymous
Persian Baḥr al-fawāʾ id,” BSOAS 64 (2001), pp. 313–38; D. G. Tor, “The
Islamisation of Iranian Kingly Ideals in the Persianate Fürstenspiegel,” Iran
49 (2011), p. 117.
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al-moluk (Pearls of Good Conduct: On the Virtues of Kings,

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

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

Sebuktegin. Mahmud’s entire body had disintegrated and turned to
dust, except for his eyes, which continued to turn this way and that
and to look out from their sockets. Not one of the wise philoso-
phers was able to interpret this dream; but a dervish spoke up, and
said: “He is still troubled by the sight of his kingdom in the hands
of others.”52
If Sa’di sought in part to remind his royal patrons of the limits of
their power, the responsibilities and perils entailed in kingship, il-
lustrated in numerous brief narratives, conveyed compelling moral
meanings for every social category. One of the reasons, perhaps,
for the pre-eminence of Sa’di among Persian moralists is the mul-
tivalence of his writings: spare, yet carefully structured, his verses
and vignettes, separately and collectively, address multiple audi-
ences simultaneously and articulate a sense of common humanity.
As Homa Katouzian has commented, Sa’di advocates a model of
good, clear, fair, considerate, public and private conduct, which
will afford its practitioner a healthy, contented, as well as socially
useful life in the world and assure him a good place in the next.
Among the morals that Sa’di seeks to teach, Katouzian singles out
charitableness, humility, contentment, the condemnation of jeal-
ousy and backbiting, and, in his extensive treatments of the morals
of kings and viziers, the transience of power and existence, ideal
government, and other-worldliness.53
Like the successor states to the Saljuqs in Iran, the polities of the
Saljuq rulers in Anatolia (Rum) saw the production of a substantial
Persian advisory literature. The authors of these texts were in sev-
eral cases Iranian immigrants, whose migration to the west had be-
gun earlier but had received a further stimulus in the 13th century
from the advance of Mongol forces into Iran. Najm-al-Din Dâye of
Rayy (1177–1256), a Sufi of the Kobravi order, provides an example:
shortly after his arrival in Kayseri in 1221, Najm-al-Din composed
his Mersâd al-ebâd men al-mabda’ elâ’l-ma’âd (The Path of God’s
52 W. M. Thackston, ed. and tr., The Gulistan (Rose Garden) of Saʿ di: Bilin-
gual English and Persian Edition with Vocabulary (Bethesda, 2008), pp. 12–
13; cf. Katouzian, Saʿ di, pp. 123–24.
53 Katouzian, Saʿ di, pp. 89–142.
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Bondsmen From Origin to Return)54 as a gift for those pursuing the

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

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

al-mamluk (Rules for Kings and Sufficient Guidance for Kings’
Servants), also known as the Âdâb al-harb va’l-shojâ’e (Regula-
tions for Warfare and Valor), in Persian, at the request of Sultan
Shams-al-Din Iltutmush (r. 1210–36) of Delhi. The book is a trea-
tise on statecraft and warfare. The early chapters deal with such es-
tablished topics as the royal virtues and the choice of trustworthy
viziers; much of the remainder of the book deals with military top-
ics such as choosing horses and weapons, building defenses, the
deployment of armies, and tactics on the battlefield. Fakhr‑e Mod-
abber also addresses the status of non-Muslims, whose protection
and just treatment he commends.57
Probably during his long residency in Kashmir, Ali Hamadâni
(1314–85), like Najm-al-Din Râzi a master of the Kobravi order,
composed his Dhakhirat al-moluk (Provisions for Kings) in ten
chapters, according to its author at the behest of a group of rul-
ers and eminent persons who solicited such a work as a “useful
reminder.” Following the homiletic model established in the advi-
sory writings of Ghazâli, Ali’s Dhakhirat al-moluk covers the con-
ditions and precepts of faith, fulfillment of the claims of worship,
ethical behavior and the need for the ruler to emulate the conduct
of the rightly guided caliphs; the rightful claims of parents, spouses,
children, servants and slaves, relatives and friends; the principles of
rulership and the claims of the subjects; explication of spiritual gov-
ernance (siyâsat‑e ma’navi) and the secrets of human deputyship
(khelâfat), commanding the good and forbidding wrong, gratitude
for bounties, patience, condemnation of pride and anger. Like Na-
jm-al-Din’s Mersâd al-ebâd, each chapter of Dhakhirat al-moluk
opens with quotations from the Qur’an and Hadith, which serve
as the basis for Ali’s commentary. Ali describes God’s creation of
each person as a caliph in the kingdom of his or her own body.
It is the responsibility of the just ruler to keep humanity on the
57 Mohammad Mansur b. Sa’id Mobârakshâh Fakhr-e Modabber, Âdâb al-

harb va-l-shojâ’a, ed. Ahmad Soheyli Khwânsâri (Tehran, 1967). Cf. Sa-
jeda S. Alvi, Advice on the Art of Governance: An Indo-Islamic Mirror for
Princes: ‘Mauʿ iẓah-i Jahāngīrī’ of Muḥammad Bāqir Najm-e Sānī (Albany,
1989) pp. 1–11.
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path of rectitude and to carry out the religious precepts among the
élites and common people. Ali pays much attention to the subjects’
rights, which the ruler must fulfill or incur punishment. Among
the rights of the ruler’s Muslim subjects are forgiveness of their
minor slips, justice, treatment according to their ranks, respect for
the elderly, fulfillment of promises, to be addressed in a pleasant
fashion, equity, the maintenance of bridges and rebâts, the con-
struction of mosques in places with Muslim populations and the
appointment of staff to them. Like Fakhr‑e Modabber, Ali distin-
guishes between the ruler’s Muslim subjects and the non-Muslim
parts of the population.58
In Iran and Iraq, advisory texts, often in Persian and sometimes
in Arabic, were produced throughout the Ilkhanid period, offered
especially to the Ilkhans’ vassal rulers and viziers. Foremost among
the Persian texts produced in this context is the ethical treatise, the
Akhlâq‑e Nâseri of Nasir-al-Din of Tus (1201–74), to be discussed
in the following section. Other examples include a Persian mirror
known as Tohfe (The Gift), dedicated to the Hazaraspid atabeg of
Lorestan, Nosrat-al-Din Ahmad (r. 1296–1333). This mirror, in ten
chapters, is probably the work of Fazl-Allâh Qazvini (d. 1339). The
Târikh‑e Vassâf of Vassâf-e-Hazrat contains a mirror informed by
the Sufi tradition addressed to the Ilkhan Oljeytu (r. 1304–17).59
5. Ethical Treatises (Akhlâq)
The 13th century also witnessed the development of the ethical trea-
tise, informed by the intellectual discipline of akhlâq, moral dispo-
sitions. This genre of advisory writing, which continued to flourish
in the post-Mongol period, offered a complementary counterpart
58 Ali Hamadâni, Dhakhirat al-moluk, ed. Sayyed Mahmud Anvari (Tabriz,

1979), pp. 2, 225–26, 252, 285, 289.
59 Tohfe dar akhlâq va siyâsat, ed. M. T. Dâneshpazhuh (Tehran, 1962); L.
Marlow, “Teaching Wisdom: A Persian Work of Advice for Atabeg Ah-
mad of Luristan,” in Mehrzad Boroujerdi, ed., Mirror for the Muslim Prince
(Syracuse, 2013), pp. 122–59.
130
Advice Literature
to the mirror for princes, which, for all its variety, reflected a pri-
mary focus on the culture of the royal court. The two types of
advisory writing, while distinct, were by no means unrelated; just
as mirrors had often included discrete sections devoted to maxims,
authors of ethical treatises often incorporated significant amounts
of material associated with the repertoire of the mirror.
The foundation for the ethical treatise lies in the science of prac-
tical philosophy (hekmat‑e amali). This science develops the four-
fold division of the cardinal virtues (wisdom, courage, temperance
and justice) based on Plato’s divisions of the soul. It adds to this
premise the Aristotelian definition of virtue as the mean between
the two extremes of excess and deficiency (efrât and tafrit); the four
cardinal virtues are thus portrayed as a balance between eight car-
dinal vices. Meskawayh, in his Arabic treatise Tahdhib al-akhlâq
(The Correction of Moral Dispositions), had developed a definitive
exposition of this ethical theory.60 While aspects of practical phi-
losophy continued to benefit from the work of philosophers writ-
ing in Arabic, such as Abu-Nasr Fârâbi (d. 950), the field found
further development in Persian, with the addition, in accordance
with an Aristotelian division of the sciences, to the science of ethics
the further sciences of economics and politics.
A critical moment in the development, in Persian, of the ancient
division of practical philosophy into the three constituent fields
of personal morality (ethics), domestic economy (economics), and
government of the city (politics) is marked by the writings of the
Shafi’i theologian, philosopher and polymath Fakhr-al-Din of
Rayy (Fakhr-al-Din Râzi) (1149–1209). Fakhr-al-Din devoted four
chapters of his encyclopedic Jâme’ al-olum (Compendium of the
Sciences), also known, on account of the sixty-odd chapters it con-
tained, as Sittini, to these topics.61 The 13th-century poet known
as Bâbâ Afzal, Afzal-al-Din Kâshâni, whose name was linked, by
way of affinity, with that of Nasir-al-Din of Tus, continued to de-
velop the philosophical tradition of Fârâbi, especially in his Sâz va
60 Meskaveyh, Tahdhib al-akhlâq, ed. Qostantin Zureyq (Beirut, 1966), tr.

Constantine K. Zurayk as The Refinement of Character (Beirut, 1968).
61 Fakhr-al-Din Mohammad Râzi, Jâme’ al-olum (= Sittini) (Tehran, 2003).
131
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pirâye-ye shâhân‑e por-mâye (Provision and Ornament for Fine

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

Kâshâni, ed. M. Minovi and Y. Mahdavi (2 vols., Tehran, 1952), I, pp. 83–110.
63 On Nasir-al-Din’s Akhlâq‑e Mohtashami, composed for the same Nâser-
al-Din, see Section 1.
132
Advice Literature
Nâseri rapidly came to enjoy a very broad circulation, and it estab-

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

tr. G. M. Wickens as The Nasirean Ethics (London, 1964). Later in his life,
Nasir-al-Din wrote a text, intended either for Hulegu or for his successor
Abaqa (r. 1265–82), in which he offered practical financial advice (M. Mi-
novi and V. Minorsky, “Naṣīr al-Dīn Ṭūsī on Finance,” BSOAS 10 [1940],
pp. 755–89).
133
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addition to numerous Qur’anic verses and Hadith, he cites earlier

prophets, caliphs and religious figures, and employs a considerable
amount of narrative material. He includes a small number of con-
temporary and personal references, including the mention of his
embassy, undertaken for the Ayyubid al-Malek al-Sâleh Najm-al-
Din Ayyub (r. 1240–49), to the court of the Hohenstaufen Holy
Roman Emperor Frederick II (1194–1250), for whom he composed
a treatise on the subject of logic.65
In the post-Mongol successor states, Nasir-al-Din’s Akhlâq‑e
Nâseri prompted the composition of several later Persian works of
ethics. The philosopher and theologian Mohammad b. Asad Davâni
(1427–1503), who held several positions at the Aq-quyunlu court,
dedicated his Lavâme’ al-eshrâq fi makârem al-akhlâq (Shafts of
Early-Morning Sunlight: On Noble Moral Characteristics), better
known as Akhlâq‑e Jalâli (ca. 1475), to Uzun Hasan (r. 1453–78)
and his son Soltân-Khalil. In his Akhlâq‑e Jalâli, Davâni retained
the three-part division of the Akhlâq‑e Nâseri, and added, as con-
cluding sections, testaments attributed to Plato and Aristotle. In-
voking Uzun Hasan’s military successes, his maintenance of the
divine law, and his justice, Davâni promoted his suzerain’s claims
to legitimate sovereignty in Akhlâq‑e Jalâli.66
Davâni’s contemporary at the court of the Timurids, the mys-
tic and preacher Hoseyn Vâ’ez Kâshefi (d. 1504), likewise referred
to Nasir-al-Din’s Akhlâq‑e Nâseri when he too composed a work
of ethics. Known as Akhlâq‑e Mohseni (completed in 1501–2),
Kâshefi’s treatise, in forty chapters, was written for Abu’l-Mohsen,
the son of Sultan Hoseyn Bayqara (r. 1470–1506). Maria Eva Sub-
telny has fittingly described the work as a summa or codification.
Among the themes that Kâshefi selected in his chapters are de-
votion, sincerity, gratitude, fortitude, contentment, trust in God,
65 Serâj-al-Din Mahmud Ormavi, Latâ’ef al-hekma, ed. Gholâm-Hoseyn Yu-

sofi (Tehran, 1972), p. 288. See further L. Marlow, “A Thirteenth-Century
Scholar in the Eastern Mediterranean: Sirāj al-Dīn Urmavī, Jurist, Logician,
Diplomat,” al-Masāq 22 (2010), pp. 279–313.
66 Jalâl-al-Din Davâni, Lavâme’ al-eshrâq fi makârem al-akhlâq = Akhlâq‑e
Jalâli (Lucknow, 1957). See also John E. Woods, The Aqquyunlu: Clan,
Confederation, Empire (rev. ed., Salt Lake City, 1999).
134
Advice Literature
modesty, chastity, resolution, justice, forgiveness, pity and mercy,

generosity and charity, keeping one’s word, truthfulness, delibera-
tion and good management, courage, jealousy, alertness and aware-
ness, reading character, keeping secrets, opportunism, keeping bad
characters at bay, and the training of servants. These themes reflect
his interest, and that of his audience, in the cultivation of personal
virtue, and his attentiveness to the contemplative life. In a manner
reminiscent of Sa’di’s Golestân, Kâshefi begins each chapter with a
brief statement, narrates one or more pertinent stories, and quotes
from the Qur’an and Hadith.67
In a reflection of the prestige enjoyed by the Akhlâq‑e Nâseri,
Akhlâq‑e Jalâli and Akhlâq‑e Mohseni, authors at the Mughal
court continued to develop the genre of the ethical treatise, with
its foundation in the science of moral dispositions. The Emperor
Akbar (1542–1605), who listened to a variety of texts, cultivated
an interest in this discourse; and fluency in this material, in con-
junction with the mirror literature, constituted an essential com-
ponent in the education of the monshi in the Mughal adminis-
tration.68 Hasan-Ali Monshi Khâqâni composed his Akhlâq‑e
Hakimi (1579–80), extant in manuscript, for the Mughal prince
and governor of Kabul, Mohammad Hakim Mirzâ (1554–85). In
this fourteen-chapter work, Hasan addresses the familiar royal vir-
tues, such as justice, patience, generosity, forgiveness, resolution
and consultation, with reference to the Qâbus-nâme, the Ahd‑e
67 Hoseyn Vâ’ez Kâshefi, Akhlâq‑e Mohseni (Hertford, 1850). See further
Maria Eva Subtelny, “A Late Medieval Persian Summa on Ethics: Kashifi’s
Akhlāq-i Muḥsinī,” IrSt 36 (2003), pp. 601–14 (I have adopted Subtelny’s
revised dating for the text’s composition). See also Chapter 1, where Colin
Mitchell notes echoes of Tusi’s Akhlâq‑e Nâseri elsewhere in Kâshefi’s oeu-
vre. Jalâl-al-Din Davâni, Lavâme’ al-eshrâq fi makârem al-akhlâq = Akh-
lâq‑e Jalâli (Lucknow, 1957).
68 Sunil Sharma, “Reading the Acts and Lives of Performers in Mughal Persian
Texts,” in Francesca Orsini and Katherine Butler Schofield, eds., Tellings
and Texts: Music, Literature and Performance in North India (Cambridge,
2015), pp. 287–88; Muzaffar Alam, “The Culture and Politics of Persian in
Precolonial Hindustan,” in Sheldon Pollock, ed., Literary Cultures in His-
tory: Reconstructions from South Asia (Berkeley, 2003), pp. 163–65; Mu-
zaffar Alam and Sanjay Subrahmanyam, Writing the Mughal World (New
York, 2012), pp. 315–16.
135
PERSIAN PROSE
Ardashir, the Testaments of Nezâm-al-Molk, Hadith, and the say-

ings of Sufis. Khâqâni’s grandson Qâzi Nur-Allâh Khâqâni, judge
of Lahore, composed his Akhlâq‑e Jahângiri (1620–22) in gratitude
to the emperor Jahângir (r. 1605–27); in twenty-two chapters, this
work reflects the author’s juristic training and interests as well as
his familiarity with the Akhlâq‑e Jalâli.69
The thorough assimilation of the mirror and akhlâq literatures
into the administrative and literary culture of the Mughal court
finds further demonstration in the Mow’eze-ye Jahângiri (The
Jahangiri Admonitions, 1612) of the Iranian émigré Moham-
mad-Bâqer Najm-al-Thâni (d. 1637), an official in the Mughal
administration. Bâqer echoes the premise that had, through the
broad dissemination of the akhlâq literature, and especially of
Kâshefi’s Akhlâq‑e Mohseni, become widespread in post-Mongol
and Mughal political discourse: that human beings, being com-
pelled to live in contact with one another and to co-operate for
the common good, required law (qânun) to control the conflict
that such contact would otherwise produce; and that it was the
responsibility of the ruler to uphold the shari’a, practice justice,
maintain the social order, and promote economic prosperity.
Bâqer, who mentions his predilection for edifying stories, coun-
sels and admonitions, supports his points principally with lines
of poetry, and, with the exception of a small number of Qur’anic
quotations, he paraphrases rather than cites Hadith and other fa-
miliar formulations (for example, “Kings are the shadow of the
Creator, and without the sun of their justice the courtyard of the
world would not be illuminated”).70
The later development of advisory writing in Persian lies beyond
the scope of this chapter. It is nevertheless striking that, as the pro-
duction of translations attests, the earlier Persian mirror and akh-
lâq literatures remained meaningful throughout the early modern
69 Munis D. Faruqui, “The Forgotten Prince: Mirza Hakim and the Forma-
tion of the Mughal Empire in India,” Journal of the Economic and Social
History of the Orient 48 (2005), pp. 491–92; Alvi, Advice on the Art of Gov-
ernance, pp. 9–10.
70 Alvi, Advice on the Art of Governance, p. 147. On the text’s relationship
with the Akhlâq‑e Mohseni, see Subtelny, “Persian Summa,” p. 613.
136
Advice Literature
period and into the 18th and even the 19th centuries. Echoes of the
earlier discourses suggest that they retained some significance even
among reformist writers, some of whom adopted openly critical
positions regarding the conditions of the polities (Ottoman, Mu-
ghal and Qajar) within which they lived.71
If references in bio-bibliographical sources and the record of the
extant manuscripts provide a suggestive impression of the prolific
millennium-long production of advisory writing in Persian, it is
considerably more difficult to gauge the reception of this literature.
Certain texts, it is clear, enjoyed a near-continuous readership and
a wide circulation; the status of, for example, the Siyar al-moluk,
the Kimiyâ-ye sa’âdat, and the Akhlâq‑e Nâseri is readily apparent,
not only in the number of manuscripts that have come to light but
also in the explicit acknowledgements, translations, adaptations
and reworkings of later writers. In many cases, however, works of
counsel appear to have survived either in small numbers of copies
or as single manuscripts. It would seem that these texts circulated
little beyond the environments in which they were first composed
and presented; upon receipt, their immediate legitimizing and eco-
nomic functions fulfilled, they were perhaps promptly deposited
in royal libraries, where they remained until modern researchers
developed an interest in them. The maxims, verses and narratives
that provided the conceptual materials for much of the intellectual
and ethical exploration undertaken in the mirror and akhlâq liter-
atures, however, permeated literary discourses and areas of public
culture in Persianate societies.
71 Muzaffar Alam, The Languages of Political Islam: India 1200–1800 (Chi-

cago, 2004), pp. 26–80; Alvi, Advice on the Art of Governance, p. 2; Hüse-
yin Yılmaz, Caliphate Redefined: The Mystical Turn in Ottoman Political
Thought (Princeton, 2018), pp. 22–96; M. T. Dâneshpazhuh, “Chand athar‑e
fârsi dar akhlâq,” Farhang‑e Irân-Zamin 19 (1973), pp. 264, 279–83. A. K. S.
Lambton knew of a mirror composed as late as 1909 (“Islamic Mirrors for
Princes,” p. 420); cf. Jocelyne Dakhlia, “Les Miroirs des princes islamiques:
une modernité sourde?” Annales 57 (2002), pp. 1191–1206.
137
PERSIAN PROSE
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145
CHAPTER 3
RESÂLE, MAQÂLE, AND KETÂB: AN

OVERVIEW OF PERSIAN EXPOSITORY
AND ANALYTICAL PROSE
Ali Gheissari
Persian expository and analytical literature is vast, both in terms of

the variety of its subject matters and also in terms of the range of
genres and forms that it has used throughout different periods of
its long history.1 This chapter will offer a general overview of ma-
jor formative stages of Persian prose with reference to some repre-
sentative samples of philosophical and, to a relatively lesser extent,
religious writings. It will also briefly introduce certain modern
variations of prose, such as political tracts, with new characteris-
tics and complexities of their own. With regard to classical and for-
mative periods particular attention will be given to continuity and
change in the form and structure of expository writings and also
to themes, and in certain cases to the mode of composition—i. e.,
to see if it can be argued whether a text was initially conceived in
Persian, or was it first syntactically conceived in Arabic and then
written in Persian. There was also a considerable corpus of Persian
texts, produced in the classical period or written later during the
post-classical, early modern, and modern periods in classical style
and diction, which were either translations from the Arabic origi-
nal or restitutions and summaries.
The present chapter will consist of three sections. The first intro-
ductory section will offer a brief definition of expository discourse,
1 I am grateful to Mohsen Ashtiany, Rasul Ja’fariyân, and Bo Utas for their

helpful advice on sources. The responsibility for all shortcomings, however,
rests entirely with myself.
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PERSIAN EXPOSITORY AND ANALYTICAL PROSE
together with an outline of three broadly used forms, or variations,

of prose—namely, maqâle (essay), resâle (epistle, tract, or treatise),
and ketâb (book). These forms were widely used within the general
classification of Islamic sciences in terms of rational (in the sense,
analytic) and transmitted (in the sense, linguistic and traditional),
branches of knowledge and investigation—respectively, olum‑e
aqli and olum‑e naqli. In this section it will also be shown that in
articulating its arguments, philosophical Persian often maintained
multidimensional ties with Arabic, ranging from reference to the
content and the exegeses of the Qur’an and of the prophetic Tra-
ditions (Hadith) to regular recourse to Arabic grammatical forms
and possibilities in a wide range of contexts. It should also be noted
that in conveying a broad variety of philosophical reflections and
synthesis, Persian frequently resorted to poetry as a particularly
favored method and form of expression—a textual category that, in
spite of its significance, is entirely beyond the scope of the present
chapter. In the second section, a few representative examples of Per-
sian philosophical and religious writings in classical and formative
periods (10th–16th centuries) will be introduced and further atten-
tion will be given to the issue of continuity and change in style and
composition of expository prose. The question of continuity and
change will further be examined in the last section with particular
reference to the post-classical, early modern, and modern writings
(17th–19th centuries) and to new forms of Persian treatise prose in
the early 20th century together with the impact of modern western
ideas, translations, and the continued challenge regarding language.
1. Introduction
Prose and Forms
In Persian the term that is usually used for prose is nathr. Of Ara
bic origin, nathr literally means dissemination and spreading; it re-
fers to expository discourse, in the sense to elucidate or to explain a
topic. Nathr is closer to colloquial style and is distinguishable from
147
PERSIAN PROSE
poetry (nazm, lit. “order”) that rhymes. In its expository function,

nathr often follows a linear line, starting with an outline and in-
troduction, moving on to the main body of the argument and ex-
position, and would then close by drawing a conclusion or offering
a summary. Variations of nathr, in terms of structure, focus, and
typology, could include narrative style (as in prose literature), an-
alytical prose to advance an argument or justify a proposition (as
in philosophical writings), demonstrative style (as in genealogical
writings, biographies, and travel accounts), and pedagogical writ-
ings (including etiquette as well as advice literature).2
From a substantive point of view a number of elements often
shaped and impacted the composition of Persian philosophical
prose. Included among these were notions and norms that were
inspired or directly influenced by Qur’anic revelations and ordi-
nances. These elements defined the overall conceptual domain of
Persian philosophical writings. On the other hand, with respect
to forms, and in view of the fact that Arabic as the medium of
Qur’anic revelations had already provided the linguistic context for
philosophical discourse, Persian writings also regularly used Ara
bic grammatical forms, such as conjugation of verbs (sarf), and also
broader grammatical provisions of syntax (nahv). Hence at its core
philosophical composition was based on interpreting Qur’anic
revelations and exploring them with the linguistic tools that were
afforded by Arabic grammar. In this sense, grammar also paved
the way for new analysis, commentary, and allegorical interpre-
tation—a trend that had been developed and explored earlier by
2 For works on nathr see, for example, J. R. Perry, “The Origin and Devel-
opment of Literary Persian,” in J. T. P. de Bruijn, ed., General Introduction
to Persian Literature, HPL Vol. I (London, 2009), pp. 43–70. Among noted
Persian literary scholars, M.-T. Bahâr, in contrast to his positive appraisal
of Persian poetry, maintained some harshly critical views on Persian prose.
Accordingly, Persian prose never succeeded to meet literary standards of
Arabic prose in any comparable field. See Mohammad-Taqi Bahâr, “Nathr‑e
Fârsi,” Tufân 7 (10 April 1928), reprinted in Bahâr va adab‑e fârsi, ed. Mo-
hammad Golbon, with an introduction by Gholâm-Hoseyn Yusofi, (2 vols.,
Tehran, 1976), I, pp. 245–51.
148
the Mu’tazila movement in Arabic philosophical and theological

writings.3
Subsequently, authorial innovations and new compositions of-
ten appeared as carefully crafted texts that offered explications and
commentaries on the Qur’an. At times these would also appear as
commentaries on works by previous philosophers, classical Greek
authors and Neo-Platonists among them. In later works that were
more directly related to natural philosophy or medicine, such as
influential writings by Avicenna, more direct and descriptive ob-
servations provided the ground for hypotheses and deductions and,
as far as the science of nature was concerned, more descriptive and
empirical accounts were offered by the author-scientist. Articula-
tion of expository discourse in Persian stemmed from a longstand-
ing tradition of writing about philosophical and scientific matters
in a pedagogical and didactic vein. Neo-Platonist writings of the
late antiquity, which had been influenced by the earlier tradition
of Greek philosophical writings (especially the so called epistolê,
i. e., epistles or “letters”) impacted the development of philosoph-
ical writings in Persian from the early Islamic period onwards.
Depending on their intended length, expository texts normally
consisted of a preface, leading to an introduction, followed by the
main section of the text, and ended by a concluding section or by
an open-ended summary of divergent arguments. Also often the
task of summarizing various arguments and fitting them within
the overall style and framework of the text, involved presenting
counter arguments as well.4
Maqâle, resâle, and ketâb can therefore be regarded as the more
familiar and broadly used forms of expository prose. These forms
served the purpose of exposition and advancing an argument or
3 For the Mu’tazila and their philosophical approach to grammar see, for ex-
ample, M. G. Carter, “Arabic Grammar,” in M. J. L. Young, J. D. Latham,
and R. B. Serjeant, eds., Religion, Learning and Science in the ‘Abbasid Pe-
riod (Cambridge, 1990), pp. 118–38; and Sophia Vasalou, Moral Agents and
Their Deserts: The Character of Mutazilite Ethics (Princeton, 2008).
4 For a general survey of resâle in Arabic, Persian, and Ottoman Turkish see,
respectively, A. Arazi and H. Ben-Shammay, Munibur Rahman, and Gönül
Alpay Tekin, “Risāla,” in EI2 , VIII, pp. 532–42.
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sets of arguments. By comparison, maqâle is normally shorter

than resâle and resâle is shorter than ketâb. In addition to these
forms, reference can also be made to lâyehe—derived from the Ara
bic lowh (lit. tablet), referring to short proposition, meditation, and
statement, and often used in its plural form, lavâyeh (petitions). By
comparison, lâyehe is the shortest of the prose forms that were men-
tioned above. Each lâyehe often tackles or proposes a single topic
or thesis, and in this sense it is self-contained and focused. Lâyehe
also provided a framework for texts with diverse contents and focus.
For instance, as will be noted later, the well-known meditations of
Khwâje Abd-Allâh Ansâri, collectively known as Monâjât-nâme
(Book of Prayers), represent expressions of personal and spiritual
introspection and meditation. Here, too, each monâjât (prayer) in-
dependently conveys a carefully crafted spiritual condition that the
author sets out to dictate or write about. Another famous example
would be the Lavâyeh by Abd-al-Rahmân Jâmi (also more on him
below), which consisted of several shorter chapters that together
dealt with some fundamental questions of mysticism. Among later
examples during the early 20th century, reference can be made to
a series of Lavâyeh that were issued in 1906 by Sheikh Fazl-Allâh
Nuri and his supporters in their opposition to Iran’s constitutional
movement. These Lavâyeh often assumed the tone of political pe-
titions and polemics.5 Modern usage of lâyehe can further be seen
in political and legal Persian in which the term ordinarily connotes
(parliamentary) bill and (legal) statement or brief.6
Ketâb, on the other hand, is longer than resâle. As the standard
term used for book, ketâb can be independently structured or con-
tain several resâles with interconnected themes. Different sections
of ketâb are often referred to as fasl (chapter), bâb (opening), or
similar designations. The episodic style of writing also recurred in
ketâb. However, unlike varieties of episodic prose, such as medi-
tative writings, that were structured in such a way that different
5 See Sheykh Fazl-Allâh Nuri, Lavâyeh‑e Âqâ Sheykh Fazl-Allâh Nuri, ed.
Homâ Rezvâni (reprinted, Tehran, 1983).
6 See M. Z. Samimikia and F. Azarfar (Hendizadeh), Law Dictionary: Per-
sian-English (2nd ed., Tehran, 1998), pp. 312–13.
150
episodes could be read independently, in ketâb a linear or progres-

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

the use of symbols that is a trait in meditative writings.
Various forms of expository prose also represent different com-
positional purposes. These writings assume different modes and
levels, such as being introductory, argumentative, meditative, or
setting out to offer commentaries on previous work. Furthermore,
different types of expository prose in philosophy and mysticism
were subject to a number of elements. First, the Qur’anic revela-
tions provided an inventory of meanings and paradigms. As such,
the Qur’an was perceived as a salient and common denominator
and its exegeses regarded as being independently referable. In other
words, the Qur’an as text (in terms of structure and syntax) was
perceived just as complete as its parts (in terms of sentences and
signs) that could be referred to in an episodic manner. In fact, the
episodic style and referencing to Qur’anic aphorisms was a com-
monly practiced way of incorporating and referring to the Qur’an
in different types of Persian texts. Whereas fuller incorporation of
the âyahs and surahs were often reserved for works that were more
particularly focused on the Qur’an, references to the Qur’an in lit-
erary, meditative, and philosophical writings were mostly brief and
based on selectively chosen signs and aphorisms. The Qur’anic ref-
erences were thus evoked to validate and support the text and pro-
viding a meta-textual platform for the logic of the text to rely upon.
Expository discourse, whether in poetry or in prose, was there-
fore conceived and practiced in terms of a project to dwell-on and
abide-by the divine truth as expressed in the text of the Qur’an.
This task being a human endeavor was thus regarded as a relative
enterprise and therefore susceptible to human variables of interpre-
tation, place, and time.
In assessing the act of writing a text, it is important to note the
impact of axiomatic notions (sing. malake). These notions are read-
ily accessible and have conceptual, ethical, and spiritual value and
have often been acquired as a result of continued training and rep-
etition and are upheld as intrinsically valid.7 For the Persian phil-
osophical and mystical subjectivity, similar to theological analysis
7 For various connotations of malake, see Dehkhodâ, Loghat-nâme, s. v.
152
(kalâm), the Qur’an and the Hadith were, in this sense, manifest
truth and axiomatic—a factor that continuously impacted various
authorial modes in different periods of Persian philosophical and
mystical prose.
2. Classical and Formative Periods
Beginnings
The Mu’tazila approach to grammar paved the way for significant

contributions to philosophical writings during the early Islamic pe-
riod such as the Rasâ’el of the Ekhvân al-Safâ (Epistles of the Breth-
ren of Purity). In terms of both form and substance the Rasâ’el’s
encyclopedic categorization of sciences and knowledge also set the
precedence for the composition of later structured accounts focus-
ing on the analysis of a given subject matter in the form of resâle.
These early texts were composed in Arabic yet they influenced
the composition of variety of texts associated with the Sho’ubiyya
movement during the 9th and 10th centuries, and impacted the early
philosophical writings in Persian.8 These trends on the whole were
influential in the development of Persian prose literature, includ-
ing various forms of philosophical writings—in terms of textual
structure, use of philosophical discourse and imagery, and their in-
tended audience. Also the shift from Arabic to Persian meant that
the text would now have a relatively more limited reception and
audience. But this shift also represented a further challenge, which
had a more lasting effect during later periods. From these early pe-
riods onwards, Persian writers viewed Arabic as their adopted or
preferred language for philosophical prose. They wrote mostly in
8 For Ekhvân al-Safâ and the Sho’ubiyya movement, see respectively I. R.

Netton, Muslim Neoplatonists: An Introduction to the Thought of the
Brethren of Purity (Edinburgh, 1991); Lutz Richter-Bernburg, “Linguistic
Shu‘ūbīya and Early Neo-Persian Prose,” JAOS 94/1 (1974), pp. 55–64; and
Roy Mottahedeh, “The Shu’ūbīyah Controversy and the Social History of
Early Islamic Iran,” IJMES 7/2 (1976), pp. 161–82.
153
PERSIAN PROSE
Arabic and the exceptional texts that some of them produced in

Persian, judging by their overall syntax and structure, were clearly
influenced by Arabic.9
Philosophy
Greek philosophical tradition impacted the development of Islamic

philosophy in diverse areas such as logic, ethics, and metaphysics.
This impact can be particularly noted in the works of early Iranian
philosophers such as Ebn-Sinâ (Avicenna), Shehâb-al-Din Sohra-
vardi, and Afzal-al-Din Kâshâni (Bâbâ Afzal) whose writings sig-
nificantly influenced the development of philosophical Persian.
Avicenna’s Dânesh-nâme-ye Alâ’i
Avicenna (c. 980–1037) was a polymath and a towering figure in

the history of philosophy in Iran. He examined a wide range of
medical and human sciences and wrote extensively on logic and
metaphysics. His remaining works, written mostly in Arabic, form
an indispensable corpus of Islamic philosophy and medicine. Avi-
cenna’s Persian works include a short tract entitled Andar dânesh‑e
rag (also known as Resâle-ye nabz, “on the science of the pulse”)
and a longer work on general philosophical questions referred to as
Dânesh-nâme (lit., Book of Knowledge) or Dânesh-nâme-ye Alâ’i,
which is among the major works of peripatetic philosophy that are
written in Persian. The writing of this work took place in Isfahan
intermittently between 1022 and 1037 and was initially prompted
by the request of Abu-Ja’far Doshman-Zayâr (also known as Alâ-
al-Dowle Kâkuye), the Buyid governor of Isfahan who had sup-
ported Avicenna during the last fourteen years of Avicenna’s life
when he resided in Isfahan. Alâ-al-Dowle had expressed a wish to
read philosophy in a language that he could understand. Sections
9 For a linguistic analysis of the earliest Persian prose texts and their gram-
matical peculiarities, see Gilbert Lazard, La langue des plus anciens monu-
ments de la prose persane (Paris, 1963).
154
of this work that have survived include Logic (manteq), Theology

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

11 S. H. Nasr, Three Muslim Sages: Avicenna, Suhrawardi, Ibn ‘Arabi (3rd
printing, Delmar, N. Y., 1997), p. 23. The first published edition of Dânesh-
nâme was by Ahmad Khorâsâni in 1936 followed by several subsequent edi-
tions. See, for example, Abu-Ali Sinâ, Dânesh-nâme Alâ’i: Resâle-ye Man-
teq, ed. with introduction and additions by Mohammad Mo’in and Sayyed
Mohammad Meshkât (reprint, Hamadân, 2004), new edition ed. Qâsem
Pur-Hasan, with an introduction by Navvâb Moqarrebi (Tehran, 2012). For
an English translation of Dânesh-nâme, see Parviz Morewedge, The ‘Meta-
physica’ of Avicenna (Ibn Sinā): A Critical Translation-Commentary and
Analysis of the Fundamental Arguments in Avicenna’s ‘Metaphysica’ in the
Dānish Nāma-i ‘alā’i (The Book of Scientific Knowledge) (New York, 1973).
155
PERSIAN PROSE
‫ علم‬:‫ و دوّ م‬،‫ علم منطق که وی علم ترازوست‬:‫ یکی‬.‫بغایت مختصری‬ ِ ‫حکمت پیشینگان گرد آورم‬
‫ و سوّ م علم هیئات‬،‫طبیعیات که علم آن چیزهاست که بحس بشایذ دیذ و اندر جنبش و گردش اند‬
‫و نِ هاذِ عا َلم و حال صورت [و] جنبش آسمانها و ستارگان چنانکه باز نموذه اند که چون بشایست‬
،‫سبب ساز و ناساز[ی] آوازها و نهاذن َلحنها‬ِ ‫ علم موسیقی و باز نمودن‬:‫ چهارم‬،‫حقیقت آن دانستن‬
.‫ علم آنجه بیرون از طبیعت است‬:‫و پنجم‬
‫و چنان اختیار افتاذ که چون پرداخته آیذ از علم منطق حیله کرده آیذ که آغاز از علم َبرین کرده شوذ‬
‫ پس اگر جائی چاره نبوذ از حوالت‬،‫و بتدریج بعلمهاء زیرین شذه آیذ بخالف آن که رسم و عادتست‬
12… .‫بعلمی از علمهای زیرین کرده آیذ‬
Thanks and salutations to God, the creator and bestower of wis-

dom—salutation to his messenger, Mohamed Mostafa—his family
and friends.
I received the great order of our master, the just King Ez-Din Ala-
Dule Abu-Jafar Mohamed ibn Dushmanziar.13 May his life be long
and his fortune increase—the master who provided me with all the
objects of my desires such as security, magnanimity—engagement
with science and presence in his court—to compose for him and his
courtiers a very concise book in Persian (Duri)14 on five traditional
and philosophical sciences, namely:
First on the science of Logic which is the science of scales (or
canon).
Second on Natural Philosophy which is the science of sensible ob-
jects—moving and growing.
Third, the science of Astronomy—Cosmology—the essence and
form and movement of skies and stars, as it is reported and examina-
tion of these reports.
Fourth, the science of Music and discussion of modes, melodies,
harmonies of songs.
And the Fifth, Metaphysics, discussion of those things which are
outside of nature.
Our plan started with the subject of logic which is a pure (higher)
and formal science and gradually let15 to less pure and formal sci-
ences (lower), (unlike the prevailing custom). It was possible to start
with less formal and lower sciences.
12 Quoted from Mohammad-Taqi Bahâr (Malek-al-Sho’arâ), Sabk-shenâsi yâ

târikh e tatavvor e nathr e Fârsi, (3 vols., Tehran, 1990–91), II, pp. 36–37.
The above transcription style and punctuations are according to this edition.
13 Name as it appears in the English translation.
14 Term as it appears in the English translation.
15 Term as it appears in the English translation.
156
Thus I, the servant, though never regarding myself as an expert in

this science, obeyed the order of my master hoping that with God’s
help I could bring it to a successful completion.16
In the composition of the text, Avicenna also occasionally used less
familiar terminology, which was perhaps a deliberate method to
make the reader maintain a slower pace in order to better grasp
the meaning.17 In line with the general pattern of Persian prose
in the 10th and 11th centuries, sentences in Dânesh-nâme are rel-
atively short. Also in view of the fact that this work was intended
to be pedagogical, often a concise and to-the-point structure with
a recurrent use of verbs is adopted and lengthy descriptive style
is avoided. The general flow and style of the text is close to a con-
versational and step-by-step peripatetic style in philosophical lan-
guage. Dânesh-nâme is an instructive text and hence the adoption
of third person (singular or plural) for most predicates, serves the
pedagogic purpose. It has further been suggested that the correct
title of this work was Dânesh-mâye (compendium) rather than
Dânesh-nâme. Similar to the Arabic genre of madkhal, this book
is an introductory work and an invitation to philosophy, rather
than an encyclopedia (a standard equivalent for dânesh-nâme).18 A
lasting impact of Dânesh-nâme has been its valuable contribution
to philosophical Persian, both in terms of introducing new vocab-
ulary and also in terms of the method or style of presenting a phil-
osophical, didactic, or logical point. The text also does not exclude
Arabic but uses it in parallel with Persian, in particular with respect
to technical terminology, a trait which, on its own right, can be re-
garded a stylistic potential of philosophical Persian to incorporate
16 English translation quoted from Avicenna, Avicenna’s Treatise on Logic:
Part One of Danesh-Name Alai (A Concise Philosophical Encyclopaedia)
and Autobiography, ed. and tr. from the original Persian by Farhang Zabeeh
(The Hague, 1971), pp. 12–13 (quoted by permission of Brill-Nijhoff).
17 Hamid Tâheri, “Bar-resi va tahlil‑e zabân‑e Dâneshnâme-ye Alâ’i,” in Ma-
jmu’e-ye maqâlât‑e hamâyesh‑e beyn-al-melali-ye Ebn‑e Sinâ, (Hamadân,
2004), pp. 3–4, online: http://www.buali.ir/buali_content /media/arti-
cle/18.pdf
18 See Abbâs Eqbâl-Âshtiyâni, “Chand nokte râje’ be zendegâni va âthâr‑e
Ebn‑e Sinâ,” in Dhabih-Allâh Safâ, ed., Jashn-nâme-ye Ebn‑e Sinâ (2 vols.,
Tehran, 1953–56), II, p. 201.
157
PERSIAN PROSE
Arabic terminology and verbal constructs within its own linguis-

tic and syntactic framework. Dânesh-nâme is an early example of
such coexistence.
Although grammatically independent, philosophical Persian is
closely associated with Arabic. This can be noted in terms of vocab-
ulary and also in the way that texts were initially conceived and then
composed. Such an integral ability, with varying degrees of fluency
and style among authors, has been a characteristic of philosophical
Persian. Dânesh-nâme also displays a high level of textual flow and
cohesiveness in the sense that it could be read without a pre-requi-
site familiarity with Arabic. From this point of view, given the fact
that language is a fundamental aspect of philosophy, the text of the
Dânesh-nâme enjoys internal consistency and is self-sufficient, in
the sense that its conceptual and terminological framework makes
its subsequent attempts at articulating its philosophical arguments
possible. Such a usage of language notwithstanding, Avicenna did
not continue writing in Persian and his most important works were
written in Arabic. Perhaps Dânesh-nâme was an indication that it
was possible to use Persian as a language of philosophy, a territory
which was hitherto unexplored, but in order to continue with his
more comprehensive philosophical writings Avicenna returned to
Arabic. Furthermore, Avicenna’s usage of Persian in Dânesh-nâme,
although it contributed to philosophical Persian, did not produce
a continued philosophical writing style in Persian and did not suc-
ceed in replacing the more established and technical Arabic among
Persian-speaking philosophers.
Sohravardi and the Partow-nâme
In the formative and classical period of philosophical Persian She-

hâb-al-Din Sohravardi (1154–91), who was executed in Aleppo on
allegations of heresy, has a special place. In spite of his relatively
short life, he wrote prolifically, and in good measure his writings
have survived. Although, as with Avicenna, the main corpus of
Sohravardi’s major works were in Arabic, he has left behind a con-
siderable body of texts that were written in Persian and mostly in
the form of resâle. In his writings, Sohravardi incorporated more
158
distinctly references to pre-Islamic Iranian themes, expressions,

and symbolism. Similar to Avicenna, he was deeply engaged with
questions of Islamic metaphysics and viewed his own work in the
tradition that was set by Avicenna. Yet unlike Avicenna, for whom
philosophical questions were often lodged and analyzed on logical
foundations, Sohravardi tried to articulate a distinctly esoteric or,
in his own term, illuminationist (eshrâqi) perspective and establish
its intellectual foundations; simultaneously he was at ease with phi-
losophy and mysticism and tried to synthesize them.19 Sohravar-
di’s ideas were elaborated in his major works, including al-Talvilât
(The Intimations), alMoqâvamât (The Oppositions), Ketâb al-
mashâre’ va’l-motârahât (The Book of Paths and Discourses), and
most notably Hekmat al-eshrâq (The Philosophy of Illumination),
which were all in Arabic. His shorter Persian writings, such as Al-
vâh‑e emâdi (Tablets Dedicated to Emâd-al-Din), Hayâkel al-nur
(The Temples of Light), and Partow-nâme (The Book of Radiance),
were composed in order to explain in a simpler language the diffi-
culties associated with his more comprehensive writings that were
in Arabic. Sohravardi’s further Persian works included Loghat‑e
murân (The Language of Ants), Resâlat al-teyr (The Treatise
on Birds), Safir‑e Simorgh (The Simurgh’s Shrill Cry), Ruzi bâ
jamâ’at‑e sufiyân (A Day with a Group of Sufis), Fi hâlat al-tofuli-
yye (On the State of Childhood), Âvâz‑e par‑e jebra’il (The Sound
of Gabriel’s Wing), Aql‑e sorkh (The Red Intellect), and Fi haqiqat
al-eshq (On the Reality of Love). Two additional resâles, namely
Bostân al-qolub (Garden of the Hearts) and Yazdân-shenâkht (On
the Knowledge of God), have also been attributed to Sohravardi.20
19 For studies on Sohravardi, see for example, Henry Corbin, Sohravardi et les
platoniciens de Perse, (Paris, 1971, vol. II of idem, En Islam iranien, 4 vols.,
Paris, 1971–72); John Walbridge, The Leaven of the Ancients: Suhrawardi
and the Heritage of the Greeks (New York, 2002); Hossein Ziai, Knowledge
and Illumination: A Study of Suhrawardi’s Hikmat al-Ishraq (Atlanta, Ga.,
1990); and Ali Gheissari, John Walbridge, and Ahmed Alwishah, eds., Il-
luminationist Texts and Textual Studies: Essays in Memory of Hossein Ziai
(Leiden and Boston, 2017).
20 For Sohravardi’s Persian works, see Majmu’e-ye mosannafât‑e Sheykh‑e
Eshrâq, vol. III: Majmu’e-ye âthâr‑e Fârsi-ye Sheykh‑e Eshrâq, ed. with
an introduction by S. H. Nasr (Tehran, 1977); and idem, The Philosophical
159
PERSIAN PROSE
In his attempts to reach a synthesis between philosophy and

mysticism, which is a major aspect of his work, Sohravardi often
employs a symbolic language and uses allegorical personifications,
such as conversation among birds. Although Sohravardi’s Persian
writings shed additional light on his more comprehensive works
in Arabic, they are not particularly presented in any simplified or
pedagogical style. The overall meaning beneath the text will be
grasped only after full immersion in the text’s symbols and intri-
cate narrative.
Among Sohravardi’s Persian writings, Partow-nâme (Book of
Radiance) has a special place in that it represents his intellectual link
with Avicenna and his own efforts to introduce a new perspective,
the philosophy of Illumination. A broad range of topics are dis-
cussed in Partow-nâme, namely, space and motion and also the con-
cept of Necessary Being (as supreme good), and the ontological hi-
erarchy among beings. Sohravardi also examines the issue of choice
and necessity (determination) within the general framework of his
theory of being and the being’s potential towards perfection (in his
words, “pure light”). In the concluding sections of Partow-nâme
there are also references to Zoroastrian symbols and allusions.
Partow-nâme consists of ten chapters, as follows: (1) On the Ex-
planation of Some Philosophical Terms; and on Defining the Body
and Some of Its States. (2) On the Bounds of the Limited; Space and
Time; and Remarks on Generation and Corruption. (3) An Inquiry
into the Self. (4) On the Faculties of the Soul. (5) On the Essence of
the Necessary Being. (6) On the Activity of the Necessary Being.
(7) On the Upper Limits and Order of Being. (8) On the Causes of
Generation, the Good and the Bad; and on Predestination and Fate.
(9) On the Immortality of the Soul; Happiness and Insolence, and
Similar Things. (10) On Prophecy, Miracles, Miraculous Powers,
Dreams, and Similar Phenomena.
The opening paragraphs of Partow-nâme are representative of
its overall composition and style:
Allegories and Mystical Treatises: A Parallel Persian-English Text, ed. and tr.
with an introduction by W. M. Thackston (Costa Mesa, Calif., 1999).
160
‫پرتو نامه‬
‫بسم الله الموفق إلتمامه‬
‫ و نامش‬،‫محبان فضیلت‬ ّ ‫بحکم اشارت بعضی از‬ ُ ‫] بدانکه این مختصریست که ساخته شد‬1[
‫ تا‬،‫مشائین در آنجا صعوبتی داشت‬ ّ ‫ و بعضی مواضع که اصطالحات علمای‬.‫«پرتونامه» کرده آمد‬
،‫ و غرض ایراد نکته ای چند است از علم الهی؛ و پیش‬.‫ بتطویل اصطالحی نزدیکتر کردیم‬،‫مُ فضی بُوَ د‬
ِ
‫توفیق اتمام‬ ،‫واهب َحیوة‬
ِ ‫ از علمای دیگر و از‬،‫ تسهیل طریق را‬.‫نکته ای چند را از آن تقدیم کرده آمد‬
… ‫ و مجموع این ده فصل است‬.‫درخواسته می آید‬
‫فصل اول‬
‫در شرح بعضی اصطالحات و تعریف جسم و بعضی احوال او‬
‫ شناخت و دانش تو او را آن باشد که صورتی از آن او در تو حاصل‬،‫] بدانکه هرچه تو آن را بشناسی‬2[

‫ پس حال تو‬،‫ و [اگر] مثال او در تو هیچ حاصل نشود‬.‫ زیرا که تو چیزی بدانی که ندانسته ای‬،‫شود‬
‫ و اگر در تو چیزی حاصل شود [که] مطابق‬.‫ و این محال است‬،‫پیش از دانش و پس از دانش یکیست‬
،‫ و چون او را چنانکه اوست بدانستی‬.‫ پس چنانکه اوست ندانستی‬،‫آن چیز که تو او را دانستی نباشد‬
.‫باید که آنچه پیش تو است مطابق آن چیز باشد که در نفس خویش و صورت او بُوَ د‬
The Book of Radiance

In the Name of God, Whose Assistance Ensures Success
[1] Know that this is a short treatise called The Book of Radiance,
which was composed in compliance with the command of one of
the “lovers of virtue.” In certain instances where the terminology of
Peripatetic philosophers was difficult to understand, we have elabo-
rated on the terms for clarification. The aim is to expound on some
issues in the science of metaphysics, some of which we have pre-
sented in the past. Other scholars and the Giver of Life are implored
to facilitate the journey to its successful end. This work comprises
ten chapters …
Chapter One
On the Explanation of Some Philosophical Terms, and on Defining
the Body and some of Its States
[2] Know that whatever you perceive, your cognizance and knowl-
edge of it is such that a form of that thing is obtained by you, because
you have come to know something you previously did not know. For
if something of the thing’s image were not obtained by you, then
161
PERSIAN PROSE
your state before and after knowledge would be the same, which is
impossible. Furthermore, if that which you have obtained does not
completely correspond with the thing you have come to know, then
you have not acquired knowledge of it, as-it-is. Therefore, it is neces-
sary that what you acquire corresponds to the thing as-it-is in itself
and that this be its true form.21
Although Sohravardi’s philosophical capital was primarily drawn
from the teachings of Avicenna, he blended it with his own approach
to Greek philosophy and also to pre-Islamic Iranian thought. In
comparison with Avicenna, the language of Sohravardi in his Per-
sian writings appears more symbolic and the literary aspect of his
writings, especially in the shorter Persian resâles, is particularly
significant. Also considerably more than Avicenna, Sohravardi’s
writings incorporate references to the Qur’an and Qur’anic allu-
sions. Similar to Avicenna, Sohravardi’s Persian writings incorpo-
rated Arabic terms together with their Persian equivalents or their
Persianized forms, and hence remained accessible to Persian audi-
ences in different periods.
Afzal al-Din Kâshâni’s Mosannafât
Among later Iranian philosophers who were influenced by Avi-

cenna and Sohravardi was Afzal-al-Din Kâshâni (also known
as Bâbâ Afzal; d. ca. 1213–14), noted for his philosophical prose
which, in turn, had significant impact on later authors. Kâshâni
continued the intellectual tradition of Avicenna, and on his own
part he attempted to synthesize philosophy and mysticism by bas-
ing the intellectual enterprise of attainment of reliable knowledge
on self-knowledge. In this effort Kâshâni appears to have main-
tained a distinctly rationalist approach. He has also been praised
for the quality of his prose and has been placed at the same level
21 Persian original and English translation quoted from Sohravardi, Partow-

nâme, ed. and tr. with an introduction by Hossein Ziai as The Book of Ra-
diance: A Parallel English-Persian Text (Costa Mesa, Calif., 1998), pp. 2–3
(quoted by permission of Mazda Publishers).
162
of influence with that of Sohravardi.22 Kâshâni’s writing style and

choice of vocabulary have further been noted for having made
significant contributions to the development of philosophical
Persian.23 His major collection of a number of treatises (resâles),
Mosannafât, contains some of the best examples of philosophical
Persian in its formative and classical period; these Persian resâles
include Madârej al-kamâl (The Rungs of Perfection), Jâvedân-
nâme (The Book of the Everlasting), Yanbu’ al-hayât (Fountain
of Life), Imani az botlân‑e nafs dar panâh‑e kherad (Security from
the Soul’s Nullification in the Refuge of Intelligence), and a num-
ber of shorter writings.24 Also noteworthy is Kâshâni’s Persian
translation of the pseudo-Aristotelian Liber de pomo (Resâle-ye
toffâha), which has been credited with closely following the orig-
inal Arabic.25 Kâshâni’s translation is also a good example of his
fluent style—as can be noted in the opening and closing lines of his
Resâle-ye toffâha:26
‫کتاب التفاحة‬
‫] چنین گفتند که چون‬.[‫این ترجمۀ مقاله ایست از آن ارسطاطالیس که بوقت وفات امال کرده است‬
‫] چون نزاری‬.[‫ارسطاطالیس حکیم را عمر بپایان رسید از شاگردان وی چندی بر وی حاضر بودند‬
‫تن و ناتوانی وی بدیدند و نشانهای مرگ از وی پیدا یافتند از حیاتش نومید گشتند مگر آنکه در وی‬
‫میدیدند از سرور و نشاط و درستی عقل آنچه دلیل میکرد بر آنکه او از حال خود می یابد بر خالف‬
‫] پس شاگردی بوی گفت که ما را جزع بر تو بیش از آنست که ترا بر خود‬.[‫آنکه دیگران از و میدیدند‬
22 See William Chittick, “Bābā Afżal-al-Din,” in EIr, III, pp. 285–91; idem,
The Heart of Islamic Philosophy: The Quest for Self-Knowledge in the
Teachings of Afdal al-Din Kashani (Oxford, 2001); Abbâs Zaryâb, “Bâbâ
Afzal,” in Dânesh-nâme jahân‑e Eslâm (Tehran, 1990), VI, p. 13.
23 Mohammad-Farid Râstgufard, “Sabk-shenâsi-ye neveshte-hâ-ye Bâbâ
Afzal Kâshâni az didgâh‑e zabâni,” Sabk-shenâsi-ye nazm va nathr‑e Fârsi
(Bahâr‑e adab) 4/3 (2011), pp. 267–82.
24 The above-mentioned writings are all included in Afzal-al-Din Mohammad
Maraqi Kâshâni, Mosannafât, eds. Mojtabâ Minovi and Yahyâ Mahdavi
(second edition, Tehran, 1987). English translation of the titles given above
follows Chittick, The Heart of Islamic Philosophy, pp. 19–27, where a more
comprehensive list of works with annotations is also provided.
25 Chittick, “Bābā Afzal-al-Din.”
26 Kâshâni, Mosannafât, pp. 113–44. Here both the original section and its
translation are based on D. S. Margoliouth, “The Book of the Apple, As-
cribed to Aristotle,” JRAS n. s. 24/2 (1892), pp. 187–252.
163
‫‪PERSIAN PROSE‬‬
‫و از گذشتن تو غمناکتریم که تو از گذشتن خود[‪ ].‬اگر از آنست که تو از خود چیزی می یابی بیرون‬
‫از آنچه ما از تو می یابیم ما را نیز از آن آگاهی ده[‪ ].‬ارسطاطالیس گفت اما آنچه از خرمی من می یابید‬
‫نه از آنست که مرا در حیات خود طمعی مانده است[‪ ]،‬ولیکن استواری منست بحال خویش پس از‬
‫مرگ[‪ ].‬شاگردی نام وی شیماس گفت اگر ترا این استواری هست سزاوارتر که ما را نیز بنمائی سبب‬
‫آن همچنانکه ترا وثوقست ما را نیز باشد[‪ ].‬ارسطو کفت اگر چه دشارست بر من سخن گفتن اما‬
‫رنجی برگیرم از برای شما[‪ ].‬نخست بشنوم از قریطون که در وی می بینم که در سخن یازد[‪ ].‬قریطون‬
‫گفت اگر چه من نیکخواهانم شنیدن سخن ترا و پیدا کردن دانش ای آموزندۀ بشر[‪ ]،‬لیکن طبیبی‬
‫که متعهدست مرا فرموده است که او را بسخن گفتم میار که سخن گفتن او را گرم کند و چون گرمی‬
‫بر وی غالب گردد مداوات درازتر گردد و دیرتر منفعت دهد[‪ ].‬ارسطو گفت من رأی آن طبیب را‬
‫بگذاشتم و از ادویه ببوی سیبی بس کنم که روان من چندان نگه دارد که من در سخن حق شما بگذارم‬
‫و چون و چگونه سخن نگویم و بهترین امید من از دارو نیروی سخن گفتنست…‪27‬‬
‫دیوجنس گفت ای پیشوای حکمت خرد ما از خرد تو هیچ باز نمیگراید[‪ ]،‬با ما پیمانی کن که ما را‬
‫از مخالفت یکدیگر نگه دارد[‪ ].‬ارسطو گفت اگر بر سیرت من خواهید بودن بکتب من اقتدا کنید[‪].‬‬
‫دیوجنس گفت بسیارست کدام اولیتر بفصل میان ما اگر خالفی افتد[؟] ارسطو گفت اما آنچه جوئید‬
‫از علم اول و حکمت ربوبیت از کتاب هرمس جوئید و آنچه مشکل شود از علم سیاسیات[‪ ]،‬و‬
‫تعلیم خلق از کتاب طبایع خلق بجوئید و آنچه بر شما مشکل شود از خوب و زشت کارها از کتاب‬
‫اخالق بطلبید و آنچه از حدود سخن بود و شما را در آن خالف افتد از کتاب چهارگانه در منطق‬
‫بجوئید[‪ ]:‬کتاب اول قاطیغوریاس و دوم پاریرمنیاس و سیم امالوطیغا [= آنالوطیغا ‪ /‬آنالیتیکی] و‬
‫چهارم اپوریطیغا [= آپودیکتیغا ‪ /‬آپودیکتیکی] کتاب برهان که فرق میان حق و ناحق کند و بدان برهان‬
‫تواند انگیخت بر کارهای پوشیده‪28.‬‬
‫و چون سخن ارسطو بدینجای رسید روانش بیطاقت شد و دستش بلرزید و سیب از دستش بیفتاد‬
‫و حکما جمله برخاستند و نزدیک وی شدند و سر و چشمش ببوسیدند و برو ثنا گفتند[‪ ].‬دست‬
‫قریطون گرفت و بر روی خود نهاد و گفت روانرا سپردم بپذیرای روان حکما و خاموش گشت و در‬
‫گذشت[‪ ].‬یاران برو زاری کردند[‪ ]:‬سر آمد روزگاز دانائی[‪29].‬‬
‫‪The Book of the Apple‬‬

‫‪This is the translation of a discourse which Aristotle delivered at the‬‬
‫‪time of his death. It is said that when the life of the sage Aristotle‬‬
‫‪approached its end, some of his disciples came to see him. When‬‬
‫‪they saw the emaciation of his frame, and his weakness, and per-‬‬
‫‪ceived about him the signs of death, they despaired of his life; only‬‬
‫‪the joy, alacrity, and clearness of intellect that they perceived in him‬‬
‫‪showed them that he took a different view of his condition from that‬‬
‫‪27‬‬ ‫‪Margoliouth, “The Book of the Apple,” pp. 202–203.‬‬

‫‪28‬‬ ‫‪Margoliouth, “The Book of the Apple,” p. 229.‬‬
‫‪29‬‬ ‫‪Margoliouth, “The Book of the Apple,” p. 229. In the above quotation all‬‬
‫‪punctuations and words in square brackets are added by the present author.‬‬
‫‪164‬‬
which was taken by others. Then one of the disciples said to him:
Our grief over you is greater than your grief over yourself, and we
are more vexed than you concerning your departure; if it be that
you feel otherwise than we feel about you, tell us also of this.—Ar-
istotle said: The joy that you perceive in me does not arise from
my cherishing any desire for life, but from my confidence about my
condition after death.—A disciple named Simmas said: If you have
this confidence, it were better that you should explain the ground
of it to us also, that we may be as certain as you.—Aristotle said:
Although it is difficult for me to talk, still for your sake I will endure
some trouble: but first let me hear Kriton, for I can see that he wishes
to say something.—Kriton said: Although I should much like to
hear your conversation, and acquire knowledge thereby, O teacher
of mankind, the physician whom you employ commanded me not
to induce you to talk, on the ground that talking would make you
warm, and should the heat get the better of you the cure would be
delayed, and the effect of the drugs impeded.—Aristotle said: I
will disobey the advice of the physician, and will employ no drug
but the scent of an apple; which will keep me alive till I have given
you the lecture to which you have a right. Why should I not speak,
when the best thing I hope to obtain from the drugs is the power to
speak? …30
…—Diogenes: O guide to wisdom! Our minds vary not the least
from thine. Make a compact between us which will guard us from
differing with one another!—Aristotle: If you would follow my
ways, imitate my books.—Diogenes: There are so many. Which will
settle differences between us best if any such arises?—Aristotle:
Questions concerning the “first science” and the science of theol-
ogy you should seek from the book of Hermes; for difficulties in the
way of politics [you should go to the Politics, and for] difficulties in
natural science, to the Physics; for difficulties about good and bad
actions, to the Ethics; whereas if any difference arises among you
about the definitions of speech, you should refer to the four books
of Logic, the first the Categories, the second περί έρµηνείας, the third
άναλυτική, the fourth άποδεικτική, or book of Demonstration, which
tells you how to distinguish between true and false. There you will
obtain light on dark matters.31
30 Margoliouth, “The Book of the Apple,” pp. 230–31.

31 Margoliouth, “The Book of the Apple,” p. 252. In the above quotation, all
punctuations and words in square brackets are added by the present author.
165
PERSIAN PROSE
When Aristotle had spoken thus far, his soul became powerless;
his hand shook, and the apple fell out of his hand. The philosophers
all rose and came near to him, and kissed his hand and eyes and eulo-
gized him. He grasped Kriton’s hand and laid it on his face, saying,
“I commit my spirit to the Receiver of the spirits of the wise.” Then
he ceased and his spirit passed away. His friends lamented over him,
saying, The day of knowledge is over.”32
Mystical and Meditative Prose
In the present section, within the limitations of space, a few ma-

jor examples in mystical and meditative writings that are relevant
to expository prose will be briefly noted. Here, among the more
representative authors from the 11th to the 15th centuries, refer-
ence is made to Nâser‑e Khosrow, Abuʼl-Hasan Hojviri, Khwâje
Abd-Allâh Ansâri, and Ahmad Ghazâli, and also to Eyn-al-
Qozât Hamadâni, Alâ-al-Dowle Semnâni, and Abd-al-Rahmân
Jâmi, with brief observations below). It could be argued that some
of these authors do not entirely fall in the category addressed in
this chapter, as there is a fine line between mysticism and exposi-
tory philosophic discourse that should be observed. Nevertheless
they were all influenced by the tradition of treatise literature and
in turn contributed significantly to its development by writing for
a broader range of readers and thus expanding the audience—be
it in association with Sufi orders, formulating religious doctrinal
polemics, or, as in the case of meditative texts, catering to personal
use and devotional (rather than analytic) appreciation.
In this context Ismaili texts were among the most substantial
part of a trend that suggests that the first impulse to write in Persian
was that of preaching and reaching to a public who would not only
understand Persian discourse better than Arabic, but also, and this
is important pedagogically speaking, felt more at home in it and
hence more likely to absorb and relish the arguments. Gradually
32 Margoliouth, “The Book of the Apple,” p. 252.
166
afterwards, Persian became almost on a par with Arabic for a large

public audience; so from the time of Sohravardi and Afzal-al-Din
Kâshâni onwards, there was a choice.
Nâser‑e Khosrow and Goshâyesh va rahâyesh
Abu’l-Mo’in Nâser b. Khosrow Qobâdiyâni (Nâser-e Khosrow;

ca. 1004–88), was a noted Ismaili philosopher, Persian poet, and
travel writer. His famous travel account, Safar-nâme (The Book of
Travels), covers approximately seven years of his travels and obser-
vations, between the years 1046 and 1052, which included travels
in southwest Asia, Arabia, and Egypt. The text is written in Per-
sian and offers a lucid portrait of peoples and places that Nâser‑e
Khosrow encountered. It is both an informative text about the
social history and historical geography of various places that he
visited and also an example of clear Persian prose. Another Per-
sian text by Nâser‑e Khosrow is Goshâyesh va rahâyesh (Opening
and Deliverance), which deals with a range of Ismaili teachings.33
This work can be regarded as another example of early philosoph-
ical Persian. The text of Goshâyesh va rahâyesh is arranged in the
form of some thirty questions on a broad range of topics, mostly
relating to epistemology, metaphysics and psychology, and the au-
thor’s attempts to offer and articulate answers to each in clear Per-
sian style, a factor which contributed to its lasting impact.34 The
opening lines of Goshâyesh va Rahâyesh are representative of its
overall prose style:
33 Nâser‑e Khosrow Qobâdiyâni, Goshâyesh va rahâyesh, ed. with introduc-

tion (dated 1950) by Sa’id Nafisi (repr., Tehran, 1984). For an English trans-
lation, see Nasir Khusraw, Knowledge and Liberation: A Treatise on Phil-
osophical Theology, tr. Faquir M. Hunzai, introd. by Parviz Morewedge
(London, 1998).
34 For Nâser‑e Khosrow’s place in Ismaili ideas and impact, see Henry Corbin,
“Nasir Khusrau and Iranian Isma’ilism,” in CHIr, IV, pp. 520–42; for fur-
ther biographical account, see also Alice C. Hunsberger, Nasir Khusraw,
the Ruby of Badakhshan: A Portrait of the Persian Poet, Traveller and Phi-
losopher (London, 2003).
167
PERSIAN PROSE
‫بسم الله الرحمن الرحیم‬

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

[1] Praise be to Allah, the Lord of the worlds. The [best] end is for
those who fear God, and the blessing [of God] be upon the chief of
the Messengers, Muhammad, and all his progeny. May God bestow
peace upon [them] abundantly.
[2] Now then, O brother, I have come to know about the intrica-
cies of [certain] inquiries in which there are many ambiguities, and
you did not find anyone who was able to answer them. However,
we allowed you to ask us those questions, and we named this book
Gushāyish wa rahāyish because we have solved these problems in it,
so that the souls of sincere believers may find [the uncovering of]
knowledge in it and be [spiritually] liberated by it.
[3] Now, O brother, I will repeat your inquiries and answer each
one, substantiating with elucidation and explanation, demonstration
and argument, from the verses of the Qur’ān [and] proofs from the
external world (āfāq), the internal world (anfos), the natures, and the
elements.35
Nâser‑e Khosrow’s other Persian writings in prose include Zâd-
al-mosâferin (Travelling Provisions of Pilgrims) which is a major
text about Ismaili views on theology and cosmology as well as a
35 Nasir Khusraw, Knowledge and Liberation; Persian text quoted from p. 1

of the Persian section, and English translation quoted from p. 23 of the En-
glish section, under “Author’s Preamble” (text and translation ©Faquir M.
Hunzai, 1993, I. B. Tauris, used by permission of Bloomsbury Publishing
Plc.). Numbers and other additions in square brackets, in the Persian sec-
tion and in its English translation, are according to the above edition.
168
source book for the terminology of philosophical Persian; Vajh‑e

din (The Face of Religion), which is mostly on theology and prac-
tical questions relating to religious law; and Jâme’ al-hekmateyn
(Uniting of the Two Wisdoms), written in 1070 at the request of
Eyn-al-Dowle, the governor of Badakhshân; this work is a detailed
articulation of Ismaili doctrine on theological questions.
Ali b. Othmân Hojviri’s Kashf al-mahjub
Ali b. Othmân Hojviri (d. 1077) had a major impact on dissemina-

tion of Sufi ideas in the Indian Subcontinent. His Kashf al-mahjub
(Revelation of the Veiled) is considered one of the earliest and most
significant classical treatises on Sufism that is written in Persian.36
Prior to Hojviri, another work also in Persian with the same title,
Kashf al-mahjub, was written by Abu-Ya’qub Eshâq b. Ahmad Se-
jzi (also known as Sejestâni) (d. 943). It consisted of seven essays
(maqâle) on principles of faith, and was regarded as one of the main
sources of Ismaili teachings.
Hojviri’s treatise was initially composed in response to a ques-
tion about how the true meaning of Sufism and its spiritual stations
can be articulated. A propagator of Sufism, Hojviri was also an
ardent defender of the outer path and observances as upheld by
the shari’a. Kashf al-mahjub is structured along various sections
(sing. bâb) on details of Sufi concepts, practices, and stages. It is
composed in a resâle format and was meant to articulate and offer
instructions. Its organization also instigates an orderly message
with regard to various stations of spiritual development in accor-
dance with Sufi teachings, and combines both the speculative and
practical dimensions of Sufi writings. Kashf al-mahjub consists of
three parts. The first part is introductory and explains the reason
why the book was written. The second part outlines some general
introductions on Sufi ideas and also offers biographical informa-
tion on famous Sufi masters of the past. The third part, which is the
36 Ali b. Othmân Hojviri, Kashf-al-mahjub, ed. Mahmud Âbedi (Tehran,
2004). For a slightly abridged English translation, see Reynold A. Nichol-
son, tr., The Kashf al-Mahjúb: The Oldest Persian Treatise on Sufiism (Lon-
don, 1911).
169
‫‪PERSIAN PROSE‬‬
‫‪main part of the book, consists of some eleven “revelations” (sing.‬‬

‫‪kashf) in which major questions of Sufism are discussed. Hojviri‬‬
‫‪wrote this book late in life and after some of his earlier writings‬‬
‫‪had been lost. Some scholars have further pointed out that in spite‬‬
‫‪of its popularity this work lacks consistency, perhaps because he‬‬
‫‪wrote it in old age. 37‬‬
‫‪The opening lines of Kashf al-mahjub provide an overall back-‬‬
‫‪ground to the author’s earlier losses and describe the general scope‬‬
‫‪of the text.‬‬
‫من بعده‪ ،‬قال الشیخ ابوالحسن علی بن عثمان بن ابی علی الجالبی‪ُ ،‬ث َم الهجویری‪ ،‬رضی الله‬
‫عنه‪ :‬طریق استخارت سپردم و اغراضی که به نفس می بازگشت از دل ستردم و به حکم استدعای‬
‫تو اسعدک الله قیام کردم و بر تمام کردن مراد تو از این کتاب عزمی تمام کردم‪ ،‬و مر این را کشف‬
‫المحجوب نام کردم‪ ،‬و مقصود تو معلوم گشت و سخن اندر غرض تو در این کتاب مقسوم گشت و‬
‫من از خداوند تعالی استعانت خواهم و توفیق اندر اتمام این کتاب‪ ،‬و از حول و قوت خود تبرا کنم‬
‫العون و ال ّتوفیق‪.‬‬
‫ُ‬ ‫اندر گفت و کردار و بالله‬
‫فصل‬
‫آن چه به ابتدای کتاب نام خود اثبات گردم‪ ،‬مراد اندر آن دو چیز بود‪ :‬یکی نصیب خاص‪ ،‬دیگر نصیب‬
‫عام‪ .‬آن چه نصیب عام بود آن است که چون جهلۀ این علم کتابی نو بینند که نام مصنف آن به چند‬
‫جای بر آن مثبت نباشد‪ ،‬نسبت آن کتاب به خود کنند‪ ،‬و مقصود مصنف از آن برنیاید؛ که مراد از‬
‫جمع و تألیف و تصنیف به جز آن نباشد که نام مصنف بدان کتاب زنده باشد و خوانندگان و متعلمان‬
‫وی را دعای خیر گویند‪ .‬و مرا این حادثه افتاد به دو بار‪ :‬یکی آن که دیوان شعرم کسی بخواست و‬
‫باز گرفت و حاصل کار جز آن نبود که جمله را بگردانید و نام من از سر آن بیفکند و رنج من ضایع‬
‫کرد‪ ،‬تاب الله علیه؛ و دیگر کتابی کردم اندر تصوّ ف‪ ،‬نام آن منهاج الدین‪ ،‬یکی از مدعیان رکیک که‬
‫کرای گفتار او نکند نام من از سر آن پاک کرد و به نزدیک عوام چنان نمود که آن وی کرده است‪ ،‬هر‬
‫چند خواص بر آن قول بر وی خندیدندی‪ .‬تا خداوند تعالی بی برکتی آن بدو رسانید و نامش از دیوان‬
‫طالب درگاه خود پاک گردانید‪.‬‬
‫اما آن چه نصیب خاص بود آن است که چون کتابی بینند و دانند که مؤلف آن بدین فن علم‪ ،‬عالم‬
‫بوده است و محقق‪ ،‬رعایت حقوق آن بهتر کنند و بر خواندن آن و یاد گرفتن آن به جد تر باشند و‬
‫مراد خواننده و صاحب کتاب از آن بهتر بر آید و الله أعلم بالصواب‪38.‬‬
‫‪37‬‬ ‫‪See, for example, Julian Baldick, “Medieval Ṣufī Literature in Persian‬‬
‫‪Prose,” in George Morrison, ed., History of Persian Literature from the Be-‬‬
‫‪ginning of the Islamic Period to the Present Day (Leiden and Cologne, 1981),‬‬
‫‪pp. 87–88.‬‬
‫‪38‬‬ ‫‪Hojviri, Kashf al-mahjub, ed. Mahmud ‘Âbedi (Tehran, 2004).‬‬
‫‪170‬‬
Introduction
In the Name of God, the Merciful, the Compassionate …
‘Alí b. ‘Uthmán b. ‘Alí al-Jullábí al-Ghaznawí al-Hujwírí (may God
be well pleased with him!) says as follows:
I have asked God’s blessing, and have cleared my heart of motives
related to self, and have set to work in accordance with your invita-
tion—may God make you happy!—and have firmly resolved to fulfil
all your wishes by means of this book. I have entitled it “The Rev-
elation of the Mystery”. Knowing what you desire, I have arranged
the book in divisions suitable to your purpose. Now I pray God to
aid and prosper me in its completion, and I divest myself of my own
strength and ability in word and deed. It is God that gives success.
Section
Two considerations have impelled me to put my name at the be-
ginning of the book: one particular, the other general.39 As regards
the latter, when persons ignorant of this science see a new book, in
which the author’s name is not set down in several places, they at-
tribute his work to themselves, and thus the author’s aim is defeated,
since books are compiled, composed, and written only to the end
that the author’s name may be kept alive and that readers and stu-
dents may pronounce a blessing on him. This misfortune has already
befallen me twice. A certain individual borrowed my poetical works,
of which there was no other copy, and retained the manuscript in his
possession, and circulated it, and struck out my name which stood
at its head, and caused all my labour to be lost. May God forgive
him! I also composed another book, entitled “The Highway of Reli-
gion” (Minháj al-Dín), on the method of Ṣúfi’ism—may God make it
flourish! A shallow pretender, whose words carry no weight, erased
my name from the title page and gave out to the public that he was
the author, notwithstanding that connoisseurs laughed at his asser-
tion. God, however, brought home to him the unblessedness of this
act and erased his name from the register of those who seek to enter
the Divine portal.
39 “The author’s meaning appears to be that one consideration has a special

reference to connoisseurs and competent persons, while the other has a gen-
eral reference to the public at large.” This footnote is given in the English
translation.
171
PERSIAN PROSE
As regards the particular consideration, when people see a book,

and know that its author is skilled in the branch of science of which
it treats, and is thoroughly versed therein, they judge its merits more
fairly and apply themselves more seriously to read and remember it,
so that both author and reader are better satisfied. The truth is best
known to God.40
Hojviri’s Kashf al-mahjub was later drawn upon by authors such
as Farid-al-Din Attâr (d. c. 1221) in the composition of his famous
Tadhkerat al-owliyâ and also even later by Abd-al-Rahmân Jâmi (d.
1492) in his Nafahât al-ons men hazarât al-qods, both of which give
biographical accounts of Muslim saints and mystics.41
Khwâje Abd-Allâh Ansâri’s Monâjât-nâme
Abu-Esmâ’il Abd-Allâh Haravi, known as Khwâje Abd-Allâh An-

sâri of Herat (1006–88), was a noted Sufi master and author of the
11th century. He was a follower of the conservative and literalist
Hanbali School in Islamic law, and in his own right was a noted
commentator on the Qur’an and an expert in Hadith. In addition to
his writings in Arabic, Ansâri also wrote or more often recounted
several works in Persian, including the Monâjât-nâme, or simply
the Monâjât (The Book of Prayers), also known as Elâhi-nâme (The
Book of Invocations to God). Although on the whole the text of the
Monâjât was not directly written down by Ansâri but was compiled
by his disciples, thus incorporating both genuine and unauthentic
elements, it is arguably his most famous and widely circulated text
that was well-received and read in different periods.42
40 Hujwiri, Kashf al-mahjub, tr. R. A. Nicholson (Leiden and London, 1911,

2nd ed., 1936), pp. 1–2.
41 For Kashf al-mahjub and its direct influence, including verbatim quotations,
on Tadhkirat-al-owliâ, see M.-T. Bahâr, Sabk-shenâsi (3 vols., Tehran, 1990–
91), II, pp. 187–97. For an English translation of Attâr’s work, see A. J. Ar-
berry, tr., Muslim Saints and Mystics: Episodes from the Tadhkirat al-Auliya’
(London, 1990). For Jâmi’s work, see Nur-al-Din Abd-al-Rahmân Jâmi, Na-
fahât al-ons men hazarât al-qods, ed. Mahmud ‘Âbedi (Tehran, 2011).
42 Cf. Serge de Laugier de Beaurecueil, “L’Ilāhī-Nāmè de Ḫwājè ʿAbdallah
Anṣārī, Bulletin de l’Institut français d’Archéologie Orientale du Caire 47
(1948), pp. 151–70; cited in Baldick, “Medieval Ṣufī Literature,” p. 88.
172
The Monâjât-nâme of Ansâri can be particularly noted for its

eloquence. With its episodic, rather than linear, structure it has a
form suitable for random perusal, and its elegant use of Persian com-
bined with rhyming prose facilitates a meditative reading. Although
any sort of monâjât and the prayers associated with it are personal
and introspective, as a genre monâjât-nâme in general conveys a
broader framework of textual experience and thus provides a wide
range of shared expressions and invocations. Its rhythmic structure
with short entries brings it closer to poetry or versified prose.43 Also,
given its subject matter, Monâjât-nâme is not polemical—although
Ansari, similar to a number of other major Sufi authors, also wrote
or lectured a fair amount of polemics in refutation of the teach-
ings of those whose ideas he disapproved (such as the followers of
scholastic rationalism). However, Monâjât-nâme is entirely an in-
trospective, meditative, and devotional text.44
Ansâri’s other works in Persian include a short treatise entitled
Ketâb‑e sad meydân (The Book of Hundred Fields), which is a
commentary on the Qur’anic verse “If you love Allâh, follow me,
and Allâh will love you” (3:31). This book is based on notes taken
from Ansâri’s discourses in 1056–57 in Herat, in which he formu-
lates the spiritual steps in following the Sufi path. Accordingly, the
“advance towards God coincides with the growing of love, which
is first rightness [or rectitude] (rāstī), then intoxication (mastī), and
finally annihilation (nīstī).”45
43 For Ansâri’s style of versified prose, see Jan Rypka, “History of Persian
Literature up to the Beginning of the 20th Century,” in Jan Rypka, HIL,
pp. 234–35; and Bahâr, Sabk-shenâsi, II pp. 240–44.
44 For this work see further, Bo Utas, “The Munājāt or Ilāhī-nāmah of
ʿAbdu’llāh Anṣârî,” Manuscripts of the Middle East 3 (1988), pp. 83–87, re-
printed in Bo Utas, Manuscript, Text and Literature (Wiesbaden, 2008),
pp. 63–74.
45 See Abd-Allâh Ansâri, Kitâb-e sad meydân, ed. Serge de Laugier de Beau-
receuil, Mélanges Islamologiques 2 (1954), pp. 1–90. For Ansari and the
above citation, see Serge de Laugier de Beaureceuil, “ʿAbdallāh Ansāri,” in
EIr I, pp. 187–90. For Ansâri and selections from his works, see also A. G.
Ravan Farhadi, Abdullah Ansari of Herat (1006–1089 CE): An Early Sufi
Master (Oxford and New York, 1996).
173
PERSIAN PROSE
In addition to Monâjât-nâme and Ketâb‑e sad meydân other

Persian works, mostly oral utterances, by Ansâri that were col-
lected or remembered by his disciples, include: Nasâyeh (Recom-
mendations), councils on practical reason and moral teachings; Zâd
al-ârefin (Provisions for Mystics), on speculative mysticism; and
Kanz al-sâlekin (Treasure for Wayfarers), also known as Ganj-
nâme (lit. The Book of Treasure), on practical mysticism. There are
also further writings on various aspects of mysticism, such as Haft
hesâr (Seven Fortresses); Mahabbat-nâme (The Book of Love);
Qalandar-nâme (The Book of the [Wandering] Ascetic); Resâle-ye
del va jân (Treatise on the Heart and the Soul) (also known as So’âl‑
e del az jân, lit. The Question of the Heart to the Soul); Resâle-ye
vâredât (Treatise on the Occurrences); and Resâle-ye manâqeb‑e
Emâm Ahmad b. Hanbal (Treatise on the Qualities of Imam Ah-
mad b. Hanbal).46 In addition to these we can also refer to Tabaqât
al-sufiyye (Generations of Sufis), a detailed biographical roster of
Sufis who had preceded Ansâri. This work, which is written “in
the old language of Herat,” was compiled by Ansâri’s pupils during
the sessions and gatherings that they had with him.47 Later genera-
tions of readers viewed this work as a major sourcebook for Sufi bi-
ographies. Ansâri is also widely quoted by one of his more erudite
pupils, Rashid-al-Din Meybodi, in his compilation of the famous
Kashf al-asrâr va oddat al-abrâr (The Unveiling of the Secrets and
Provision of the Righteous), which is an extensive commentary on
the Qur’an and its exegesis written in Persian.48
46 For a selection of Ansâri’s Persian writings, see further Mohammad-Javâd

Shari’at. ed., Sokhanân‑e pir‑e Herât (Tehran, 1977).
47 Laugier de Beaureceuil, “‘Abdallāh Ansāri,” pp. 187–190. See Khwâja
Abd-Allâh b. Mohammad Ansâri, Tabaqât-al-sufiyye, ed. Mohammad Sar-
var Mowlâ’i, (Tehran, 1983). See further Mohammad Sarvar Mowlâ’i, “Tab-
aqâqat al-Sufiyye-ye Ansâri,” in Dânesh-nâme-ye jahân-e Eslâm I (Tehran,
1990), p. 6428 (online at http://lib.eshia.ir/23019/1/6428).
48 See Abu’l-Fazl Rashid-al-Din Meybodi, Kashf al-asrâr va oddat al-abrâr,
ed. Ali-Asghar Hekmat (10 vols., Tehran, 1952–60). For selections of this
work in English translation, see William C. Chittick, tr., The Unveiling of
the Mysteries and the Provision of the Pious (Amman, 2014). For Meybodi,
see further Annabel Keeler, “Meybodi, Abu’l-Fażl Rašid-al-Din,” in EIr
online ed.
174
Ahmad Ghazâli’s Savâneh al-eshq
Ahmad Ghazâli (d. 1126), was a noted Persian Sufi author and
the younger brother of the influential jurist and theologian Abu-
Hâmed Mohammad Ghazâli (d. 1111).49 Ahmad Ghazâli was a fol-
lower of the Shâfe’i school of feqh, in which he was in his own right
a noted authority. He authored several resâles on Sufism, including
Savâneh al-eshq (Incidents of Love), which is a major text in Per-
sian Sufi writings. Savâneh was written around 1114 and consists
of 77 short sections, each referred to as a chapter (fasl). The text
also occasionally incorporates verse in order to clarify some of the
complexities and allusions that he used in his prose. In the opening
lines of Savâneh, Ghazâli provides an overall sense of the text and
what prompted him to write it.
،‫رب العالمین و الصلوة علی سیدنا محمد و آله اجمعین‬

ّ ‫) الحمد الله‬1(
‫حدیث عشق در حروف‬ ِ ‫این حروف مشتمل است بر فصولی چند که بمعانیِ عشق تع ّلق دارذ اگر چه‬
‫ و اگر چه‬،‫بدامن خدرِ آن ابکار نرسذ‬ِ ‫دست حروف‬ِ ‫و در کلمه نگنجذ زیرا که آن معانی ابکارست که‬
‫ و لیکن عبارت درین حدیث‬،‫ما را کار آنست که ابکارِ معانی را بذکورِ حروف دهیم در خلوات الکالم‬
].[‫حق کسی بُوذ که ذوقش نبوَ ذ‬ّ ‫اشارتست بمعانی (؟) متفادت نکرده بوذ و آن نکره (؟) در‬
‫ و بدل حروف حدود السیف‬،‫عبارت اشارت‬ ِ ِ
‫اشارت عبارت و یکی‬ ‫ یکی‬:‫و از این دو اصل شکافذ‬
‫ و اگر در جملۀ این فصول چیزی روَ ذ که آن مفهوم نگردذ ازین‬،‫بصیرت باطن نتوان دیذ‬ ِ ‫بوَ ذ اما جز به‬
].[‫معانی بوَ ذ و الله اعلم‬
‫بنزدیک من بجای عزیزترین براذرانست و مرا [با] او انسی تمام است از من‬ ِ ‫) دوستی عزیز که‬2(
‫در خواست کرد که آنچه ترا فرا خاطر آید در معنیِ عشق فصلی چند اثبات کن تا بهر وقتی مرا با او‬
].[‫تمسکی می سازم‬ ّ ‫بدامن وصل نرسذ بذان تعلل کنم و بابیات او‬
ِ ِ
‫دست طلبم‬ ‫ و چون‬،‫ُانسی باشذ‬
‫ چنانکه تع ّلق بهیچ جانب ندارذ در‬،‫حق او را‬ ّ ‫) اجابت کردم و چند فصل اثبات کردم قضای‬3(
‫ تا او‬،‫بشرط آنکه درو هیچ حواله نبوَ ذ نه بخالق نه بمخلوق‬
ِ ،‫اغراض عشق‬
ِ ‫حقایق عشق و احوال و‬ ِ
50… ‫چون درمانذ بذین فصول تعلل کنذ‬
49 Most of Abu-Hâmed Mohammad Ghazâli’s voluminous works were in

Arabic, but he also wrote in an equally elegant style in Persian, mostly in
the tradition of advice literature and ethics, such as Kimiyâ-ye sa‘ âdat and
Nasihat-al-moluk. See Louise Marlowe, “Advice Literature,” in the present
volume.
50 Ahmad Ghazali, Savâneh, ed. Hellmut Ritter (first edition, Istanbul, 1942), re-
printed with an introduction by Nasrollâh Purjavâdi, (Tehran, 1989), pp. 2–3.
175
PERSIAN PROSE
In the Name of God

Most Merciful and Compassionate
Praise belongs to God, Lord of the worlds,51 [and the sequel is for
those who are righteous,52 and there shall be no enmity except for
wrongdoers].53 And blessing be upon our lord Muhammad and his
righteous family.
(1) Here follow my words consisting of a few chapters about the
(mystical) ideas (ma‛ānī) of love (‘ishq), though, in fact, love cannot
be expressed in words nor contained in sentences; for the ideas of love
are like virgins and the hand of words cannot reach the edge of the
curtain of those virgins. Even though our task here is to marry the
virgin ideas to the men of words in the private chambers of speech,
yet outward expressions (‘ibārat) in this discourse cannot but be al-
lusions to different ideas. Moreover, this indefiniteness (of words)
exists only for those who have no “immediate tasting” (dhawq).
From this idea originates two roots: the allusive meaning (ishārat)
of an outward expression (‘ibārat) and the outward expression of an
allusive meaning. However, in the innermost heart of words is con-
cealed the sharp edges of a sword, but they can be perceived only by
inner vision (baṣīrat). Hence, if in all of the chapters (of this book)
something is said which is not comprehended, then it must be one of
these (esoteric) ideas. And God knows best.
(2) An intimate friend whom I consider the dearest of all the
brethren (of the path)—known as Sā’īn al-Dīn—asked me to write
(a book consisting of) a few chapters on anything that comes to me,
extempore, on the (mystical) meaning of love, so that whenever he
feels himself intimately close to love and yet his hand of aspiration
cannot reach its skirt of union, he can then read the book for (his
own) consolation54 and use the meaning of its verses as something
resembling (the Reality of love itself).
(3) In order to be fair to him (as a friend), I agreed and wrote a few
chapters, in such a way that they are not devoted to any particular
view, on the realities, modes, and aims of love, on the condition that
it should not be attributed to either the Creator or the creature. (I
51 Qur’an 1:2.
52 Qur’an 7:128.
53 Qur’an 2:193
54 The verb ta’allol kardan means, more precisely, to console oneself with
something which is not the real object of one’s desire, but is a substitute for it.
176
wrote this book) just in order that my friend might find consolation
in these chapters when he is helpless…55
Eyn-al-Qozât Hamadâni’s Tamhidât and Letters
Abu’l-Ma’âli Abd-Allâh b. Abi-Bakr Mohammad Miyâneji

Hamadâni (1098–1131), commonly known as Eyn-al-Qozât
Hamadâni, was a judge, philosopher, and significant mystic. He
was executed in Hamadân at a young age on the orders of the Sel-
juk Sultan Mahmud II (r. 1118–31) on charges of spreading heresy.
Eyn-al-Qozât (lit. “The Eye of the Judges”—a title that was mostly
used for him by the Sufis) had come from a line of scholars and
judges, some of whom, including his father and grandfather, had
fallen to a similar fate.56
Among Eyn-al-Qozât’s more influential teachers and guides par-
ticular reference should be made to Mohammad b. Hammuye (d.
1130) and the above mentioned Ahmad Ghazâli, who had initiated
him to Sufi meditation and practice and with whom Eyn-al-Qozât
maintained close ties and correspondence until his death.57 By exten-
sion, he was also influenced by Hallâj (d. 922), with whom he shared a
similar fate some two centuries later. In spite of his short life Eyn-al-
Qozât left behind a number of influential works in Arabic and Per-
sian. His major works in Arabic that have survived include Shakvâ
al-gharib (Grievance of the Stranger), a short resâle in the tradition
of apologia that was composed during his imprisonment in Baghdad
in refutation of charges of heresy, and, prior to that, a more system-
atic work Zobdat al-haqâ’eq (Choicest Extracts of Verities) on Di-
vine existence, written when Eyn-al-Qozât was merely twenty four
years old. Eyn-al-Qozât’s Persian writings that have survived include,
most notably, the Tamhidât (Prolegomena) and also a collection of
55 Ahmad ibn Mohammad Ghazâli, Savâneh, tr. with comm. and notes Nas-
rollah Pourjavady as Sawānih: Inspirations from the World of Pure Spirits,
the Oldest Persian Sufi Treatise on Love (London and New York, 1986),
pp. 15–16 (quoted by permission of Taylor and Francis Group).
56 For Eyn-al-Qozât, see G. Böwering, “ʿAyn-al-Qożāt Hamadānī,” in EIr,
III, pp. 140–43.
57 Böwering, “‘Ayn-al-Qożāt Hamadānī.”
177
PERSIAN PROSE
his various letters to pupils and fellow Sufis. Tamhidât deals mostly
with speculative questions and meditations on Divine essence and
attributes, prophetic appointment, resurrection, and various states of
the soul prior to residing in the body and after ascending from it. It
also includes more particular questions of mysticism with regard to
Divine love—such as devotion to Divine love, spiritual endurance in
seeking Divine love, and stages in the annihilation (fanâ) in Divine
love. The book consists of some ten sections or tamhid (prolegome-
non) that together deal with various stages of attaining self-knowl-
edge and appreciating Divine attributes. 58
Tamhidât adopts a general instructive style as if directed to spe-
cific audience or a certain circle of disciples. However, by its own
admission, it was written for ideal “absent readers” (mokhâtabân‑e
ghâyeb) who would come at some time in the future and benefit
from it:
‫مخاطبان غایب اند که خواهند پس از ما آمدن که‬ ِ ،‫اما مقصود‬ّ ،‫اما با تو گفته ام که مخاطب تویی‬
ّ
.‫الغائب» این مقام باشد‬
ُ ‫اهدُ َی َری ماال َیری‬ ّ « ‫فواید عجیب را در کتاب ما بدیشان خواهند نمودن که‬
ِ ‫الش‬
59.‫ غایب نشوی‬،‫ حاضر نباشی؛ و تا حاضر نباشی‬،‫در این مقام تا غایب نشوی‬
Although I have told you that you are the reader, my aim [in writing]
is those absent readers who will come after our time and to whom
the extraordinary benefits of this book will be revealed, for “the one
who is present sees, but the one who is absent does not see.”60 In this
state, unless you become absent, you shall not be present; and unless
you are present, you shall not be absent.61
Eyn-al-Qozât maintains a conversational style in his Letters,
which are generally written in clear Persian prose with occasional
use of verse. The letters are mostly instructive and pedagogic yet
passionate in summarizing fundamental concepts and teachings of
58 For the Persian works of Eyn-al-Qozât, see Eyn-al-Qozât Hamadâni,
Tamhidât, ed. with introd. and additions by Afif Oseyrân (Tehran, 1963),
and Nâme-hâ-ye Eyn-al-Qozât Hamadâni, eds. Ali-Naqi Monzavi and
Afif Oseyrân (2 vols., Tehran, 1983; vol. III, ed. Ali-Naqi Monzavi, Tehran,
1998).
59 ‘Eyn-al-Qozât Hamadâni, Tamhidât, p. 327 (§ 429). English translation is
by the present author.
60 This is an Arabic proverb.
61 English translation is by the present author.
178
mysticism. The following excerpt from the Third Letter is repre-

sentative of the Letters overall style and diction:
‫نامۀ سوّ م‬
‫ و هنوز آنچه مقصود است تمام‬،‫حقیقت ن ّیت چیزی نویسم‬ِ ‫ دو روز است تا می خواهم که در‬-81
‫ أطال الله فی رضاه بقاک که در مکتوب دیروزینه بیان کرده بودم که هیچ‬،ّ‫ بدان ای برادر أعز‬.‫ننوشتم‬
‫ تا‬.‫ و قدرت خادم ارادتست‬،‫کاری از آدمی در وجود نیاید ا ّلا بواسطۀ صفتی که آن را قدرت خوانند‬
ِ
‫ پس پدید‬،‫ارادت کاری نبود‬ ‫ و چون در آدمی‬.‫ارادت فرمان ندهد از قدرت هیچ مقدور در وجود نیاید‬
:‫ و از آنجا که نظر عموم بود گویند‬.‫ و حادث از سببی مستغنی نبود‬،‫ پس این ارادت حادث است‬،‫آید‬
‫علم‬
ِ ‫ و چون‬.‫ که فالن کار کردن به از ناکردن است‬،‫سبب حدوث ارادت علم بود که در آدمی وادید آید‬
‫ این کفر‬،‫ و از آنجا که نظر خصوص است‬.‫ ارادت ضروری الوجود بود‬،‫قاطع و یا ظنّ غالب وادید آید‬
‫ از آن مستغنی نباشیم در‬،‫ اما هم در اشارت کردن بدان‬،‫ اگر چه کفر بود در دیدۀ درون‬،‫ لعمری‬.‫بود‬
‫ قدم بضرورت‬،‫ چون ما بکعبه رویم و خواهیم که قدم بعرفات نهیم‬.‫ارشاد تو و امثال تو از مبتدیان‬
‫اما آن راه ماست نه منزلست‬ّ ،‫ و اگر چه دانیم که کعبه نه حلوان است‬،‫در کوفه و بغداد و حلوان نهیم‬
62.‫و نه مقصود و نه مقصد‬
Third Letter
In the Name of God the Compassionate the Merciful
For the past two days, I have been trying to write something about
the nature of intent and have not yet managed to write down in
full what I had in mind. Know my dearest friend (May God for his
own satisfaction prolong your life!) that in my yesterday’s letter I
had stated that nothing emanates from man unless through an at-
tribute that is called power, and power is servant to will. Unless
the will commands, nothing will issue from power into existence.
And if there is no will in someone to do something, [but] then it ap-
pears, then this [ensued] will shall be the effect, and the effect is not
needless of a cause. And [then], in accordance with general opinion,
they say: the cause for the will is the knowledge that has appeared
in man, [and] that doing a certain thing is better than not doing it.
And if the convincing [and the undoubted] knowledge or [its oppo-
site] the overriding doubt appear, [then] the will’s existence shall be
necessary.63 And since it is the particular opinion,64 this is [same as]
62 Eyn-al-Qozât Hamadâni, Nâme-hâ, p. 17.

63 That is, it will be necessary for the will to exist.
64 That is, since it is the opinion of the initiated few.
179
PERSIAN PROSE
sacrilege. I swear that although this may be sacrilege to the inner

eye, we are not needless of pointing it to you and the novice like you
[and] offering our guidance. As we set out to go to [Mecca and visit]
the Ka’ba and [there] to set foot on [the pilgrim’s route of] Arafât,
necessarily we shall [have to first] set foot in Kufa and Baghdad and
Helwân, and although we know that Ka’ba is not Helwân, that is
[only] our path not [our] station and neither is it [our] purpose nor
[our] final destination.65
Alâ’-al-Dowle Semnâni’s Mosannafât
Rokn-al-Din Abu’l-Makârem Ahmad b. Sharaf-al-Din Moham-

mad b. Ahmad Biyâbânaki (d. 1336), known as Alâ’-al-Dowle
Semnâni, was also among the major Sufi authors of the Ilkhanid
period, whose various Persian writings, some of which have been
compiled by the modern Afghan scholar Najib Mâyel-Heravi under
the title of Mosannafât (Collected Works), have a remarkably lucid
style and present an outline of Sufi stages in meditative experience
and symbolic terminology.66 This volume consists of some twelve
resâles of varying length together with eight letters and Sufi autho-
rizations to his disciples and communication from his contempo-
raries. A relatively longer and particularly significant resâle in this
collection is Bayân al-ehsân le-ahl al-erfân (The Explication of
Good Works for those Endowed with Gnosis), in which Semnâni
articulates some of his key concepts and terminology. It consists
of an introductory note and four fasls (chapters)—respectively

66 Ahmad b. Mohammad Alâ’-al-Dowle Semnâni, Mosannafât‑e Fârsi, ed.
Najib Mâyel-Heravi, (Tehran, 2004). For studies on Semnâni’s life and
work, see J. van Ess, “‘Alā’ al-Dawla Semnānī,” in EIr, I, pp. 774–77; Jamal J.
Elias, The Throne Carrier of God: The Life and Thought of ʿAlāʾ ad-dawla
as-Simnānī (New York, 1995); and more recently Devin DeWeese, “‘Alā’ al-
Dawla Simnānī’s Religious Encounters at the Mongol Court near Tabriz,”
in Judith Pfeiffer, ed., Politics, Patronage and the Transmission of Knowl-
edge in 13th –15th Century Tabriz, (Leiden and Boston, 2014), pp. 35–76, and
Giovanni Maria Martini, ʿAlāʾ al-Dawla al-Simnānī between Spiritual Au-
thority and Political Power: A Persian Lord and Intellectual in the Heart of
the Ilkhanate (Leiden and Boston, 2018).
180
on elâhiyyât (theology), nobovviyyât (prophetic appointments),

velâyat (guardianship), and ehsân (benefaction).
Semnâni has been noted as a fierce opponent of the growing in-
fluence in Iran of the ideas of the renowned philosopher and mys-
tic Ebn-al-Arabi (d. 1240). He viewed Ebn-al-Arabi’s “ontological
towhid” and his general philosophical recourses into theology in-
compatible with unconditional belief and therefore heretical.67 In-
stead he advocated a more “dynamic type of mysticism which cen-
ters around becoming and which sees in divine Being not so much
God’s essence as the “act of giving existence” (fe’l al-ijâd).”68 The
following paragraph from the first chapter of the treatise is indica-
tive of Semnâni’s views and of his overall prose style:
‫ نه بدان اعتبار که حق تعالی را قدیم‬،‫— و آن کس که جهان را قدیم می گوید به اعتبار زمان‬401
‫ و‬.‫ تکفیرش مکن[؛] از آن سبب که زمان عبارت از تعدد ادوار افالک است‬،‫] کافر نیست‬،[‫می گوید‬
‫ و هر عقل و نفس هم از جهات‬.‫ صورت و ماده‬:‫ و جسم مؤلف از دو جوهر است‬.‫افالک اجسام اند‬
‫ و بی خالف وجود جوهر عقل که‬، ‫اند و پیش از تألیف آن دو جوهر صورت و ماده موجود بوده‬
.‫ و پیش از زمان ثابت چگونه گفتن که او به زمان مسبوق باشد‬،‫معارف است در عالم امکان متحقق‬
‫ تکفیرش مکن؛ … معنی قدیمی که بر حق اطالق‬،‫ فالن چیز قدیم است‬:‫زنهار به مجرد آنکه کسی گوید‬
69.‫می کنیم آن است که الیسبقه شییء‬
104—And the person who calls the world eternal on the basis of time
and not on the basis of the evidence that calls the Almighty God
eternal, is not a heretic and you should not denounce him as such[;]
because time is the multiplicity [and recurrence] of the cyclic turns
of the celestial orbits.70 And celestial orbits are bodies. And body
consists of two essences: form and matter. And every [faculty of]
reason and [every] self too have come about from [different] direc-
tions[,] and prior to their association those two essences of form and
matter [already] existed, and with no faults of the essence of the [fac-
ulty] of reason which is the [attainment of] knowledge within the
realm of the realized [and attained] possibility,[—]and [hence] prior
67 J. van Ess, “‘Alā’ al-Dawla Semnānī,” in EIr, I, pp. 774–77.

68 Van Ess, “‘Alā’ al-Dawla Simnānī.”
69 ‘Alâ’-al-Dowle Semnâni, Mosannafât‑e fârsi, p. 207.
70 Here, the reference being to the world of medieval astrology, a more literal
translation is given for aflâk in terms of celestial orbits and planets, rather
than the more conventional “heavens,” which otherwise would have been
too broad.
181
PERSIAN PROSE
to the fixed [and atemporal] time how could it be said that it [i. e.
reason] is preceded by time[?] Behold, do not denounce as heretic
anyone who says that certain thing is eternal … The eternal quality
that we attribute to God is that [God] is not preceded by anything.71
The above passage is written in compressed style and requires a
commentary. “Qadim,” for example, is eternal but what Semnâni is
subtly doing is distinguishing between “qadim” in its time dimen-
sion (i. e., eternal), as well as in the more common sense of ancient
in time, and, in the last few words when applied to the Almighty, in
its connotation of precedence. In other words, he takes the notion
of qadim “Out of Time,” thus making an absolute, i. e., timeless,
statement that God precedes all—meaning, He is, of course, out-
side Time. All this is in fact related to the earlier debates about
eternity and the concept of azal, or the eternity parte ante question
in, for example, Avicenna and Ebn-Kammuna (d. 1284).72
Prior to the time of Semnâni this question had also been raised
by, for example, Ahmad Sam‘âni (d. 1140) in his widely praised
Rowh al-arvâh (Repose of the Spirits), which was an extensive
commentary on Divine names that was written in Persian. Rowh
al-arvâh has been further credited for having influenced Meybo-
di’s Kashf al-asrâr, referred to earlier, and for the “elegance” and
the “extra ordinary beauty” of its prose style.73 The following line
from Rowh al-arvâh, for example, is indicative of the sort of argu-
ment that was also later echoed by Semnâni:
‫موحدان آن است که دنیا فانیست و خلق‬
ّ ‫آن مذهب زنادقه است که خلق فانی و دنیا باقی؛ اما مذهب‬
74.‫باقی‬

72 In this context, and relating to the above discussion of qadim, see Lukas
Muehlethaler, “Revising Avicenna’s Ontology of the Soul: Ibn Kammūna
on the Soul’s Eternity a Parte Ante,” The Muslim World 102 (July/October
2012), pp. 597–616.
73 See, respectively, Ali-Asghar Seyfi, “Ta’thir‑e Rowh al-arvâh dar Tafsir‑e
Kashf al-asrâr,” in Yad-Allâh Jalâli-Pandari, ed., Yâd-nāme-ye Abu’l-Fazl
Rashid-al-Din Meybodi, Vol. I (Yazd, 1999), pp. 356–94.
74 Shahâb-al-din Ahmad b. Mansur Sam‘âni, Ruh-al-arvâh: fi sharh‑e asmâ’
al-malek al-fattâh, ed. Najib Mâyel Heravi, (Tehran, 1989), p. 528.
182
Religion of the heretics is [to say] that the creation is finite and the
world is eternal, but religion of the monotheists is that the world is
finite and the creation is eternal.75
Sam’âni’s version, similar to the one that was subsequently ex-
pressed by Semnâni, does not in any way contradict the view that
God is outside time and created the world ex nihilo—once He cre-
ates souls, they last forever.76
Different sections of Mosannafât display Semnâni’s fundamen-
tal views on mysticism, include a broad range of references to past
Sufi masters, and also reflect his observations on spiritual stations
of Sufi experience. Additional collections of Semnâni’s Persian dis-
courses are included in the much celebrated Chehel Majles (Forty
Sessions), also known with different titles such as “Malfuzât” (Spo-
ken Words) and Favâ’ed (Benefits).77 By the time of Semnâni there
is a vast corpus of Sufi writings in Persian prose and its language
was already firmly in place.
Abd-al-Rahmân Jâmi’s Lavâyeh
Nur-al-Din Abd-al-Rahmân b. Ahmad b. Mohammad (d. 1492),

widely known as Jâmi, was a remarkable author of a broad range

76 On Sam’âni, see further, William C. Chittick, “Aḥmad Sam’ānī on Divine
Mercy,” Sufi (Autumn 1995), pp. 5–11.
77 Alâ’-al-Dowle Semnâni, Chehel majles, tr. Amir Eqbâl Sistâni, ed. Abd-al-
Rafiʿ Haqiqat (Rafi’), (Tehran, 1978); for later editions, see Alâ’-al-Dowle
Semnâni, Chehel majles yâ Resâle-ye Eqbâliyye, ed. with introd. and ad-
ditions by Najib Mâyel-Heravi (Tehran, 1987); and W. M. Thackston, ed.,
ʿAlā’uddawla Simnānī: Opera Minora (Cambridge, Mass., 1988), which in-
cludes some of the shorter writings of Semnâni. In the latter edition, Che-
hel Majles, following Amir Eqbâl Sistâni, the original transcriber of the
sessions, appears as Resâle-ye Eqbâliye: Favâyed‑e Sheykh Alâ’-al-Dowle
Semnâni. For a discussion on the symbolic language of Chehel Majles, see
Nasr-Allâh Purjavâdi, “Zabân‑e hâl dar âsâr‑e Ala’-al-Dowle Semnâni,”
Nashr‑e Dânesh 20/4 (2003), pp. 25–35. For Semnâni’s correspondence
with ‘Abd-al-Rahmân Esfarâyeni (d. 1317), his onetime spiritual advisor,
see Hermann Landolt, ed., Correspondance spirituelle échangée entre Nu-
roddin Esfarayeni (ob. 717/1317) et son disciple ‘Alaoddawleh Semnani (ob.
736/1336) (Tehran, 1972).
183
PERSIAN PROSE
of works in poetry and prose in both Persian and Arabic. He is

particularly noted for the composition of a large volume of poet-
ical works, writings on music, as well as treatises on theological
and mystical topics.78 Among the latter group particular attention
can be given to Lavâyeh, which is a collection of some thirty seven
shorter chapters or essays (lâyehe), and has been credited for its
lucid Persian style. The central theme of Lavâyeh is on the unity of
being and existence, a theme that was particularly expounded in the
writings of Ebn-al-Arabi and his followers. In contrast to Semnâni,
Jâmi was receptive to the ideas of Ebn-al-Arabi, and in Lavâyeh
he aimed to elucidate some of the complexities of Sufi teachings as
expressed in Ebn-al-Arabi’s or in his own Arabic writings. Jâmi’s
Persian works in prose also include Nafahât al-ons (Breaths of In-
timacy), in which he drew on Ansâri’s above-mentioned Tabaqât
al-sufiyye; this work consists of the biographies of former Muslim
mystics from earlier periods down to Jâmi’s own time.79
The few representative authors that were briefly noted above, to-
gether with many more, effectively contributed to the gradual de-
velopment of a remarkable legacy of meditative writing in Persian
both in prose and in verse. By the end of the 15th century this legacy
had already established its conceptual domain, technical terminol-
ogy, and receptive circles, which in turn directly contributed to
a wider circulation of earlier works and also to further composi-
tion of new texts. In retrospect it may be argued that this legacy
was just as significant and formative for the intellectual history as
it was for literary history and, as will be noted in the following
section, on the whole it provided a multilayered link between the
78 For Jâmi’s life and works and his place in Sufism, see respectively, Paul Losen-
sky, “Jāmi i. Life and Works,” in EIr, XIV, pp. 469–75; Hamid Algar, “Jāmi
ii. and Sufism,” in EIr XIV, pp. 475–79. Jâmi’s own major writings in prose
include Lavâyeh, in Majmu’e-ye Mowlâ Jâmi (Istanbul, 1309/1891), repr. in
Iraj Afshâr, ed., Seh resâle dar tasavvof (Tehran, 1981), pp. 3–103; also ed.
Mohammad Hosayn Tasbihi (Tehran, n. d.) ; ed. and tr. Yann Richard as Les
Jaillissements de Lumière (Paris, 1982) ; Jâmi, Naqd al-nosus fi sharh‑e naqsh
al-fosus, ed. William C. Chittick and preface by Sayyed Jalâl-al-Din Ȃshtiyâni
(Tehran, 1977); Jâmi, Bahârestân, ed. Esmâ’il Hâkemi, (7th ed., Tehran, 2011).
79 Abd-al-Rahmân Jâmi, Nafahât-al-ons men hazarât-al-qods, ed. Mahmud
Âbedi (Tehran, 1991, new ed., 2011).
184
classical writings and the works that were produced in later peri-
ods within new contexts, assuming new directions, and finding a
new range of audience.
3. Early Modern and Modern Periods
In assessing variations of Persian prose, it is in fact from the Safavid

period (1501–1722) onwards that we can talk with more evidence
and precision about the text, the author, and the intended reader-
ship. In this period, the impact of Shiʿism, as the official doctrine,
on scholastics, philosophy, and on bureaucratic and legal writings
is particularly significant. The establishment of the Safavid state in
Iran, especially following the transfer of its capital city to Isfahan,
provided a new context for Shi’i scholars and jurists to articulate
and further define various branches of Shi’i learning—ranging
from Imamological literature to Shi’i jurisprudence (feqh). Al-
though a significant portion of the material thus produced was in
Arabic, they impacted the subsequent production of religious prac-
tical handbooks which were written in Persian.
It is widely believed that with the establishment of the Safa-
vids, an intellectual migration among some Shi’i clerics took place
to Iran, mostly from the Persian Gulf island of Bahrain and also
from the Ottoman Levant (Jabal al-Âmel), and that they effec-
tively contributed to the articulation of various branches of Shi’i
learning. However, in spite of trans-regional communication and
reciprocity, such exchanges cannot be exaggerated nor regional
and doctrinal variations within Shi’ism be ignored.80 The Safavid
period also impacted the direction of its own major intellectual
80 For a critical assessment of this view, see Andrew J. Newman, “The Myth
of the Clerical Migration of Safawid Iran: Arab Shiite Opposition to ‘Ali
al-Karaki and Safawid Shiism,” Die Welt des Islams n. s. 33/1 (1993), pp. 66–
112. For additional aspects of Safavid intellectual history with particular
reference to the impact of epistolary writings on philosophy, doctrine, and
politics, see Marco Di Branco, “The ‘Perfect King’ and his Philosophers:
Politics, Religion and Graeco-Arabic Philosophy in Safavid Iran: The case
of Uṯūlūğiyā,” Studia graeco-arabica 4 (2014), pp. 191–218.
185
PERSIAN PROSE
components—Shi’ism and Sufism, and also philosophy. In addi-

tion to its former utopian and millenarian dimensions, Shi’ism now
found new grounds, in particular in juristic terms, as can be seen
in further development of Shi’i feqh. Sufism, too, gradually moved
away from its earlier exceptionalism and came to assume and prefer
the title of erfân (gnosis), and thus it was “to become intellectual-
ized and thoroughly incorporated into Shi’i theology.”81 To a large
extent Safavid philosophy was also fused with speculative theology
and mysticism and as such defined the direction of the philosoph-
ical enterprise in Iran ever since. The overall framework of this
transformation can be clearly seen in the works of Mollâ Sadrâ.
Philosophy
Mollâ Sadrâ and Se Asl
Sadr-al-Din Mohammad b. Ebrâhim Qavâm Shirâzi, known as

Mollâ Sadrâ (d. 1640), is arguably amongst the most influential
philosophers of the Safavid period. His major contribution has
been viewed in terms of synthesizing previous trends within a
comprehensive philosophical system of his own, a transcendental
system with divergent elements from the past including the peripa-
tetic philosophy of Avicenna and the philosophy of Illumination
of Sohravardi. Mollâ Sadrâ has also exercised a significant impact
on Persian philosophical discourse up to the present, as almost all
major philosophers wrote commentaries on his writings and have
devoted considerable effort to comment and explain various as-
pects of his ideas and writings. The main corpus of Mollâ Sadrâ’s
extensive writings is in Arabic.82 His only works in Persian consist
81 John Cooper, “Some Observations on the Religious Intellectual Milieu of

Safawid Persia,” in Farhad Daftary, ed., Intellectual Traditions in Islam
(London and New York, 2001), p. 158.
82 For Mollâ Sadrâ, see Sajjad H. Rizvi, Mulla Sadra and Metaphysics: Modu-
lation of Being (London, 2013), where a bibliographical list of his works is
also given, pp. 185–87. For additional bibliographical notes, see Rezâ Os-
tâdi, “Ta’lifât‑e Mollâ Sadrâ,” Â’ine-ye Pazhuhesh 57 (1999).
186
of a short resâle on the attainment of the knowledge of the self, en-

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

‫و آن تسویالت نفس اماره است و تدلیسات شیطان مکار و لعین نابکار که بد را نیک و نیک را بد‬
‫وا می نماید و معروف را منکر و منکر را معروف می شمارد و کارش ترویج سخنان باطل و تزیین‬
86… ‫ و حاصلش بجز خسران دنیا و آخرت چیزی نیست‬.]‫عمل غیر صالح و تلبیس و تمویه … [است‬
First section of the first chapter, on the first principle [that is ob-
structive in the transcendence of the self]:
And that is the ignorance of the knowledge of the self which is verily
the essence of man and the structure of the belief in the there-after
and of the knowledge of interaction of the souls and of the bodies
and of the knowledge of the heart that most men are oblivious about.
83 See Mollâ Sadrâ, Resâle-ye se asl, ed. S. H. Nasr (Tehran, 1962); for a recent
edition, see Mollâ Sadrâ, Se Asl, ed. Mohammad Khwâjavi (Tehran, 1997).
84 Mollâ Sadrâ, Resâle-ye se asl, ed. Nasr, p. 8.
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And such [ignorance] is the greatest means of atrocity and disap-

pointment that has engulfed most of the humankind in this world;
for one who has not attained the knowledge of the self would not
know God, as one who knows one’s self will know God, and one
who does not know God will be equal to animals …
Second section of the second chapter, on the second principle from
the aforementioned three principles:
And that is the love of fame and of possession and the want of desires
and of lust and other benefits of the carnal self which is the embodi-
ment of all worldly love …
Third section of the third chapter, on the third principle:
And that is the trappings of the carnal self and deceptions of the de-
ceptive Satan, the damned wrongdoer, who makes evil to appear as
good and good as evil, and counts right as wrong and wrong as right,
and whose job is to spread futile words and to decorate the wrong
deeds [as if they were right] and to deceive and to mislead … And the
result of [all this] is nothing but loss in this world and next…87
Philosophers after Molla Sadrâ
Among Molla Sadrâ’s most distinguished disciples was Abd-al-

Razzâq Lâhiji (d. c. 1661), whose Persian treatise Gowhar‑e morâd
(The Coveted Gem) is amongst the major texts of Shi’i moral phi-
losophy and scholastic theology. While the majority of Lâhiji’s
writings were in Arabic, he wrote Gowhar‑e morâd in Persian in
order to offer an accessible summary of his received training and
a concise account of his preferred meditative methodology.88 Al-
though Lâhiji always remained respectful of Mollâ Sadrâ and his
teachings, he maintained greater affinity to the tradition of Avi-
cenna.89 As a text, and perhaps in line with the general trend of
the time, Gowhar‑e morâd is ornate in style and replete with com-
plex terminology with recurrent use of grammatical variations of
88 Abd-al-Razzâq Lâhiji, Gowhar‑e morâd, ed. Samad Movahhed (Tehran, 1985).
89 For a general overview of Lâhiji, see W. Madelung, “‘Abd-al-Razzāq Lāhiji,”
in EIr, I, pp. 154–57.
188
Arabic synonyms. Also as a text it received wide recognition by

subsequent generations of students of Shi’i theology from the late
17th century onwards. Lâhiji also wrote Sarmâye-ye imân (Faith’s
Asset) in Persian, a work which was intended to further summarize
Gowhar‑e morâd albeit in a more accessible prose.90
Apart from Mollâ Sadrâ and his followers, in the Safavid period
we can further note a more direct recourse to the teachings of Avi-
cenna by, most notably, Mollâ Rajab-Ali Tabrizi (d. 1670) and his
pupil Qavâm-al-Din Mohammad Râzi (d. 1682). Although their
writings, too, were mainly in Arabic, they also wrote a number of
significant Persian treatises and summaries. In particular, refer-
ence should be made to Tabrizi’s short and lucid treatise Ethbât‑e
vâjeb (On the Proof of the Necessary [Being]). In contrast to the
more dominant views of Mollâ Sadrâ and his followers, Tabrizi’s
treatise adopts a peripatetic (mashshâ’) perspective in line with the
earlier tradition of Avicenna. This work consists of an introduc-
tion (moqaddame), five topics or foci (matlab), and a conclusion
(khâteme).91 In similar vein further reference should also be made
to Tabrizi’s disciple, Qavâm-al-Din Râzi and his two major works
in Persian, Eyn al-hekme (Reflection of Philosophy) and Ta’liqât
(Addenda), which are both in the form of resâle. Razi’s Persian
Eyn-al-hekme, which is in fact his own translation of the Ara
bic version that he wrote earlier and with the same title, consists
of one introduction (moqaddame) and twelve chapters (sing. fasl)
that deal with a number of philosophical topics such as existence,
essence and appearance, causality, and teleology. Ta’liqât, on the
other hand, consists of some twenty-two short “ta‘liq” (adden-
dum), also on philosophical topics, ranging from the possibil-
ity of contingent being (mowjud) and its various postulates and
90 Abd-al-Razzâq Lâhiji, Sarmâye-ye imân dar osul‑e e’teqâdât, ed. Sâdeq

Lârijâni Âmoli (Tehran, 1993). For additional introduction and samples of
Lâhiji’s writings, see also Sayyed Jalaloddin Ashtiyani, ed., Anthologie des
philosophes iraniens depuis le XVIIe siècle jusque à nos jours (4 vols., Tehran,
1972–75) I, pp. 272–361.
91 For a complete text of this treatise and critical commentaries, see Ashtiyani,
Anthologie, I, pp. 220–43.
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predicates (sing. mahmul) to questions concerning perception and

the theory of knowledge.92
Religious Practical Tracts: Resâle-ye amaliyye
From the late Safavid period onwards another prose variety is found
in religious practical tracts or resâle-ye amaliyye. A fundamental
difference, however, should be noted here with an older tradition of
“manuals” which often had strong moralizing (andarz) orientation
towards, for instance, instructing the reader personally, as in, for
example, texts on practical Sufi ordinances and on practical gnosis
(erfân‑e amali) in general, or advising on various collective and po-
litical measures, such as texts in the earlier tradition of the mirrors
for the princes (mer’ât al-omarâ) genre.93 In this context a resâle-ye
amaliyye or towzih al-masâ’el (lit. “clarification of questions”), as
it is also known, is a handbook of varying length which tends to
address specific shari’a related practical questions and adopt acces-
sible chapter headings and sectional structure. Topics that are com-
monly written in such tracts include circumstances and procedures
for ritual cleansing (tahârat), rules of obligatory practices (prayer,
fasting, payment of alms, and pilgrimage), matters of interpersonal
relationships and transactions, practical advice to maintain reli-
gious duties during travels, etc. Delving into more technical areas
of feqh is often avoided but there have been tracts, such as Jâme’‑e
Abbâsi, discussed below, which included such matters in lesser or
greater extent as well.
Bahâ’-al-Din Âmeli’s Jâme’‑e Abbâsi
Reportedly the first resâle-ye amaliyye written in Persian during

the Safavid period was by the polymath Bahâ’-al-Din Âmeli (better
92 For both Eyn al-hekme and Ta‘liqât, see Qavâm-al-Din Mohammad Râzi
Tehrâni, Majmu’e-ye mosannafât, ed. Ali Owjabi (Tehran, 2010), respec-
tively pp. 87–191 and pp. 193–258.
93 For the tradition of advice literature, Marlow, “Advice Literature,” in the
present volume.
190
known as Sheikh Bahâ’i, 1547–1621), who wrote it on the request

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

Vol. IX (Tehran, 2005), p. 351.
95 For additional references, see Ra’iszâde, “Jâme‘‑ e ‘Abbâsi.”
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on previous works. These commentaries were of shorter or longer

length and could also vary in terms of their reference to minor cor-
rections to a more detailed analysis or criticism of the work under
consideration. Similar to olum‑e naqli in general, the composition
of producing commentaries also relied on long periods of appren-
ticeship necessary to evoke evidence and narrative. The tradition
of writing commentaries thus formed a significant portion of ex-
pository prose.
Mohammad-Bâqer Majlesi’s Helyat al-mottaqin
Another major example in the Persian tradition of resâle-ye amali-

yye is Helyat al-mottaqin (“The Adornment of the Godfearing”),
written during the late Safavid period by the influential religious
scholar and authority Mohammad-Bâqer Majlesi (d. 1699). The text
of Helyat al-mottaqin, which was completed in 1671, is arranged
into 14 chapters, each containing 12 sections, respectively sym-
bolizing the “Fourteen Infallibles” (chahârdah ma’sum) and the
Twelve Imams, and deals with a broad range of practical matters
relating to manners, marriage, personal cleanliness, eating, travels,
etc. By extent and coverage not all sections of Helyat al-mottaqin
deal exclusively with religious transmitted traditions or injunc-
tions regarding personal and practical questions, but throughout a
good deal of popular and superstitious practices are also included.96
In the Safavid period we can further note a significant trend
in producing Persian translations of some of the classical Arabic
works of olum‑e naqli, especially major works of Hadith. This
trend was also accompanied by authoring works in Persian and
was carried out in tandem with translations. Among the works
that were written during the Safavid period in Persian, was Sharh‑e
ghorar va dorar (Description of Primary and Superior Pearls), a
commentary on Hadith, by Âqâ Jamâl Khwânsâri (d. 1713) who
96 See H. Algar, “Ḥelyat al-mottaqin,” in EIr, XII, pp. 180–81. See also Ali
Rahnema, Superstition as Ideology in Iranian Politics: From Majlesi to Ah-
madinejad (Cambridge, 2011), pp. 240–54.
192
had also actively contributed to translation efforts.97 Prior to the

Safavid period, there were less works written in Persian than in
Arabic on the transmission of traditions and specially about the
biographies of narrators and transmitters (rejâl‑e hadith), perhaps
because on the whole such texts were mostly part of the seminary
education and were hence written and studied in Arabic. Also un-
derstanding their contents was not considered to be particularly
difficult, something that would justify restitutions and summaries,
and on the other hand they did not have a wide demand or audi-
ence beyond seminarians. However, in the field of interpretation
(tafsir) there existed a longstanding tradition of Persian writing.
Among the earlier and more influential works of the Shi’is, was
the well-circulated tafsir written by Abuʼl-Fotuh Râzi in the 12th
century. There was also an older tradition of Persian writings in
Hanafi feqh, which were produced in Khorâsân and Transoxiana.98
Texts such as Jâme’‑e Abbâsi and Helyat al-mottaqin pro-
vided a framework and style for a long list of subsequent religious
practical tracts that were produced in Persian during the late Sa-
favid and Qajar (1785–1925) periods. A few representative exam-
ples, which were also named in deference to the ruling sovereigns,
were Jâme’‑e Soleymâni (Soleymâni Compendium) by Nezâm-al-
Din Ali Musavi and dedicated to the Safavid Shah Soleymân I (r.
1666–1694), Jâme’‑e Mohammadi (Mohammadi Compendium) by
Mohammad-Ja’far Astarâbâdi (d. 1847) and dedicated to Moham-
mad Shah Qajar (r. 1834–1848), and Jâme’‑e Nâseri (Nâseri Com-
pendium) by Ali b. Mohammad Shari’atmadâr Astarâbâdi (son of
the above-mentioned Mohammad-Ja’far, d. 1898) and dedicated to
Nâser-al-Din Shah Qajar (r. 1848–1896). In addition to various sec-
tions on private law and personal transactions, the latter has also
been noted for its inclusion of topics relating to public law and
relations between subjects and the government, which apparently
Nâser-al-Din Shâh considered to espouse as the law of the land
97 Âqâ Jamâl Khwânsâri, Sharh‑e ghorar va dorar, ed. Sayyed Jalâl-al-Din Mo-
haddeth Ormavi, (7 vols., Tehran, 1967).
98 For an index of these works, see Mohammad-Taqi Dâneshpazhuh, ed.,
Fehrestvâre-ye feqh‑e hezâr o chahârsad sâle-ye Eslâmi dar zabân‑e Fârsi,
(Tehran, 1987).
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PERSIAN PROSE
but later abandoned the plan.99 However, as will be noted below,

the idea of introducing a codified set of rules that would define
and protect the rights of the nation vis-à-vis the state, was con-
tinued through the subsequent range of reform resâles during the
late Qajar period and contributed directly to Persian constitutional
discourse of the early 20th century.
Safavid and Qajar Epistolary Tracts
Monsha’ât‑e Soleymâni
During the Safavid and Qajar periods, we also have a range of epis-
tolary tracts that were compiled in order to be instructive with re-
gard to administrative and public communication and correspon-
dence. Among the more articulated epistolary tracts of the Safavid
period, Monsha’ât‑e Soleymâni (Soleymâni Transcripts) deserves
particular attention.100 Divided into fifteen sections (sing. bâb), this
volume offers a broad range of writing samples and terminology
that reflect the general domain of administrative customs and tra-
ditions—i. e., the domain of orf. Early training in such style and
skills often helped one’s administrative career mostly within the
government but also when serving the secretarial needs of reli-
gious institutions or the merchants and land-owning classes. In
bureaucratic Persian, such skills were broadly referred to as khatt
va rabt (and possibly with an additional third term, zabt), com-
prising writing and penmanship, administrative competence and
knowhow, and accounting. As a combined expression, khatt va
rabt particularly came into use during the Qajar period. It included
skills such as literary knowledge, command of grammar, elegant
and accurate composition style, good hand-writing together with
a sense of measure and aesthetic appreciation in transcribing docu-
ments, knowledge of the orf and of its diction and terminology, as
well as the knowledge of traditional accounting and book-keeping
99 Ra’iszâde, “Jâme’‑e Abbâsi.”

100 Rasul Ja’fariyân, ed., Monsha’ ât‑e Soleymâni (Tehran, 2009).
194
(siyâq). Works such as Monsha’ât‑e Soleymâni are informative for

the range and articulation of administrative style during the late
Safavid period.
Vajizat al-tahrir
Another example in this context is Vajizat al-tahrir (A Concise

[Guide] to Composition), by Mohammad b. Sabz-Ali Esfahâni
(compiled in 1830). This work is a selection of administrative and
legal writings, intended to instruct proper style for future letter
writing use in these fields, and as such it is also a good source for
the study of both administrative and religious legal language, in-
cluding both the domain of official customs in general (the domain
referred to as orf), as well as writings within religious domain (or
shar’).101 The book is divided into one introduction (moqaddame)
and two sections (sing. bâb). The introductory part deals with ex-
plaining the terminology of such documents. The first section is
dedicated to specimen of religious legal (shar’i) writings and oblig-
atory religious ordinances which were, accordingly, collected grad-
ually and then registered and incorporated in this volume. The sec-
ond section includes a range of both religious and administrative
writing templates written by the author himself. None of the sec-
tions follow any particular order or logic and various items are pre-
sented in a miscellany format. The broad range of documents that
are presented here include, for example, marriage documents (sing.
monâkehe-nâme), statements for granting freedom to slaves (sing.
âzâd-nâmche), and for allocation or endowment of assets (vaqf),
among others. On the whole the prose style and range of termi-
nology that is used in this epistle provide an informative source for
legal Persian from the early modern period. Later attempts to stan-
dardize legal terminology and, more substantively, codify laws, re-
lied directly on such background.
101 Mohammad b. Sabz-Ali Esfahâni, Vajizat al-tahrir, ed. Rasul Ja’fariyân,

(Qom, 2014).
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Parvaz‑e negâresh‑e Pârsi
Another example of an epistolary tract that was produced later

during the Qajar period was Parvaz‑e negâresh‑e Pârsi (Method of
Writing Persian), written by Mirzâ Rezâ Afshâr, chargé d’affaires
and councilor to the Persian embassy in Istanbul. Published in
1883, this work was a kind of manual designed to show its read-
ers how to write various kinds of letters and petitions by using
supposedly pure Persian vocabulary.102 For different occasions
separate specimen are included and the more familiar and current
equivalents of many recommended words were also given by the
author on the margins of each page. In fact, this work was part of a
broader trend at the time to “purify” Persian from foreign, mostly
Arabic, loanwords. It is also evident from the text that Mirzâ Rezâ
was under the influence of the Dasâtir model. Written during the
17th century by the followers of Âzar Keyvân (d. between 1609 and
1618), a Zoroastrian leader in India who was originally from Iran,
the Dasâtir consisted of some sixteen shorter books, or “letters,”
using allegedly pure, but mostly artificial, Persian vocabulary.103
For nearly three centuries, the terminology of Dasâtir appealed to
many Persian authors who intended to purify Persian from Arabic
but did not question the authenticity of these allegedly pure words.
Prior to Parvaz‑e negâresh‑e Pârsi, Mirzâ Reza Khân also wrote
Alefbâ-ye behruzi (The Alphabet of Happiness), on the reform of
the Persian alphabet, where the influence of Dasâtir can also be
noted.104 Earlier impact of Dasâtir can further be traced in other
and more widely circulated works such as the Persian dictionary
102 See Mirzâ Rezâ Khân Afshâr Begeshlu Qazvini, Parvaz‑e negâresh‑e Pârsi,
(Istanbul, 1883). For a brief introduction, see also Ali Gheissari, Iranian In-
tellectuals in the Twentieth Century (Austin, Tex., 1998), pp. 23–24, p. 133,
n. 32).
103 As a term, dasâtir is the Arabic plural form of the Persian term dastur, orig-
inally dastvar in Pahlavi, with several meanings such as authority, official,
vizier, permission, custom, formula, program, and grammar. Gheissari,
Iranian Intellectuals, p. 133 n. 32.
104 Mirzâ Reza Khân Afshâr Begeshlu Qazvini, Alefbâ-ye behruzi, (Istanbul,
1882, 26 pp.).
196
Borhân‑e qâte’ (Definite Proof), compiled by Mohammad-Hoseyn

b. Khalaf Tabrizi, in 1652.105
Other figures during the late Qajar period known for their ef-
forts to purify the language included reformist authors and critics
such as Mirzâ Fath-Ali Âkhundzâde (1812–1878), Mirzâ Âqâ Khân
Kermâni (1854–1897), Hâjj Zeyn-al-Âbedin Marâghe’i (1840–1910),
Abd-al-Rahim Tâlebof Tabrizi (1834–1911), Mirzâ Malkom Khân
(Nâzem-al-Dowle) (1833–1908), and Mirzâ Yusof Khân Tabrizi
(Mostashâr-al-Dowle) (1823–1895) (more on him below). Âkhun-
dzâde went so far as to advocate changing the way Persian was
written by replacing the Arabic with the Latin alphabet.106 Debates
on language reform and with the tendency to “purify” it, contin-
ued well into the 20th century.107
Post-Safavid Philosophy
Persian philosophical texts in the early Qajar period in most part

continued the Safavid tradition in both form and substance. In this
context a number of summaries or commentaries on Mollâ Sadrâ,
perhaps most notably by Hâjj Mollâ Hâdi Sabzavâri (1797–1873)
and later by Âqâ Ali Modarres Tehrâni (1818–89), can be noted.
105 Mohammad-Hoseyn b. Khalaf Tabrizi, Borhân‑e qâte’, ed. Mohammad

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

tween Safavid and Qajar periods. Although his writings were
mostly in Arabic his two books in Persian, that are written in prose,
influenced later philosophical writings in style and in the range of
topics. The first, Hedâyat al-tâlebin (Guide to Seekers of Knowl-
edge), completed in 1858, consists of two sections and is mostly on
prophetic appointment and on the Imams.108 The second and more
significant, Asrâr al-hekam (Secrets of Philosophies), completed in
1869, was initially requested of Sabzavâri by Nâser-al-Din Shah to
summarize the basic teachings of Islamic philosophy and a num-
ber of key philosophical topics, mainly regarding the question of
this world and the hereafter (mabda’ va ma’âd).109 In this work
Sabzavâri gives a summary of the philosophical trends that were
generally associated with Avicenna and Sohravardi and then in-
troduces the transcendental synthesis of Mollâ Sadrâ. Sabzavâri’s
point of departure in this work is to classify knowledge into three
categories: knowledge of God (including the knowledge of both
the beginning and of the end), knowledge of one’s own self, and
knowledge of what God has commanded both for the collective life
or the outer path (the shari’a) and for the inner path (tariqa). The
book is divided into two parts. The first deals with speculative the-
ology and philosophy, and the second, with practical ordinances.110
During the late Qajar period, a number of influential philoso-
phers continued, first and foremost, with the tradition of Mollâ Sa-
drâ and Sabzavâri, and also with the earlier tradition of Avicenna.
108 Its full title is Hedâyat al-tâlebin fi ma’refat al-anbiyâ’ al-ma’sumin va-ʼl-
a’amma al-tâherin. For bibliographic information on this and other works
by Sabzavâri, see Mortazâ Zokâ’i Sâvaji, “Ketâbshenâsi-ye Hâjj Mollâ Hâdi
Sabzavâri,” Keyhân‑e Farhangi 10/1 (1993), pp. 22–23.
109 The complete title of this work is Asrâr al-hekme fiʼl-moftatah vaʼl-mokhta-
tam. In print form it first appeared in Tehran in 1885; later edition with
notes and commentary by Mirzâ Abu-ʼl-Hasan Sha’râni (Tehran, 1960);
and also ed. by H. M. Farzâd (Tehran, 1983). See also M. Mohaqqeq, “Asrār
al-ḥekam,” in EIr, II, pp. 799–800.
110 See Fatemeh Fana, “Mullā Hādi Sabzawarī,” in Reza Pourjavady, ed., Phi-
losophy in Qajar Iran (Leiden and Boston, 2019), pp. 179–230.
198
They included, among others, Âqâ Ali Modarres (more on him

below), Âqâ Mohammad-Rezâ Qomshe’i (1819–89), and Mirzâ
Hâshem Eshkevari (1814–1914), in the first group, and Mirzâ Abuʼl-
Hasan Jelve (1823–97) and Mirzâ Tâher Tonekâboni (1863–1941),
in the latter.111 These authors were in most part based in Tehran
and, as before, the major portion of their written work was done
in Arabic and only occasionally they also wrote in Persian, or at
times even a mixture of the two—a style which seems to have been
occasionally adopted in the transcription of philosophical topics
during the late Qajar period.112 Among them Âqâ Ali Modarres
is particularly significant in terms of his innovative commentaries
on Mollâ Sadrâ and also in view of his wider circle of students who
later carried over the scholastic tradition of Persian philosophy to
the 20th century.
Âqâ Ali Modarres Tehrâni’s Badâye’ al-hekam
Among the Persian writings of Âqâ Ali Modarres Tehrani (or

Zonuzi), Badâye’ al-hekam (Philosophical Novelties) has a special
place.113 It was written in 1889 during the last year of his life and
published posthumously in 1896. On the whole, the book was ini-
tially composed in response to a number of questions that were
presented to Âqâ Ali by Mohammad-Hoseyn Mirzâ Badi’-al-Molk
(also known as Emâd-al-Dowle II) (d. sometime after 1896), a Qajar
philosopher-prince with occasional duties as provincial governor,
whose name in fact reflects on the title of Âqâ Ali’s book. Among
111 Manuchehr Sâduqi Sohâ, Târikh‑e hokamâ’ va orafâ-ye mota’akhkher, (2nd

ed., Tehran, 2002).
112 A good case in point is a philosophical miscellany in Arabic and Persian
that was written around 1914 by Hâjj Mirzâ Mohammad Tehrâni, a sugar
merchant and learned bookseller. For a general introduction of this manu-
script and its Persian sections, see Ali Qeysari (Gheissari), ed., “Favâkeh al-
basâtin: athâr‑e Hâjj Mirzâ Mohammad Tehrâni,” in Rasul Ja’fariyân, ed.,
Jashn-nâme-ye Ostâd Sayyed Ahmad Hoseyni Eshkevari (Tehran, 2013),
pp. 723–817.
113 For Tehrâni’s life and works, see Mohsen Kadivar, “Āqā ʿAlī Mudarris
Ṭihrānī,” in Pourjavdi, Philosophy in Qajar Iran, pp. 231–58..
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PERSIAN PROSE
his contemporaries, Badi’-al-Molk was particularly noted for his

familiarity with modern western philosophies, for he belonged to
an early generation of Iranian thinkers in the Qajar era who were
in contact with the ideas of some modern western philosophers,
albeit indirectly and in passing.114
Badi’-al-Molk Mirzâ’s questions were initially seven and, al-
though varied in substance, mostly corresponded to different
aspects of Mollâ Sadrâ’s philosophy, except perhaps the last one
which falls outside that tradition. In turn, Âqâ Ali’s responses of-
fered a comprehensive explanation of Mollâ Sadrâ’s ideas on tran-
scendental philosophy to the extent that on the whole Badâye’ al-
hekam can be regarded as a major commentary on Mollâ Sadrâ that
was written in Persian in that period by a philosopher within the
scholastic tradition. Badi’-al-Molk’s initial questions, to which he
later added a few more, included, respectively:
1. The question concerning the essence of God.
2. The question concerning the multiplicity amongst beings and
its complex correlation with temporality on the one hand, and
with the eternity of God on the other.
3. As God is beyond possibilities, then how would it be possible
to conceptualize God?
4. Is God’s knowledge of the possibilities limited or comprehen-
sive? Would it then include knowledge of the particulars too?
5. Could knowledge of the Divine lead to acts, or not?
6. What is the supreme cause of [all] possibilities?
7. How can one debate with materialists on the objectivity of Di-
vine attributes?115
As noted above, philosophically the intellectual milieu to which
Âqâ Ali Modarres and his wider circle of associates and students
114 Karim Mojtahedi, “Âqâ ‘Ali Hakim Modarres Zonuzi va Badi’-al-Molk

Mirzâ,” Keyhân Farhangi 8/76 (1991), reprinted in Karim Mojtahedi,
Âshnâ’i-ye Irâniyân bâ falsafe-hâ-ye jadid‑e gharb (Tehran, 2000), pp. 253–
64. See further, Rezâ Musavi-Pâk, “Badi’-al-Molk Mirzâ Emâd-al-Dowle,”
in Dânesh-nâme-ye bozorg‑e Eslâmi, Vol. XI, entry p. 4662.
115 Âqâ ‘Ali Modarres Zonuzi, Badâye’ al-hekam, ed. with introd. by Ahmad
Vâ’ezi (Tehran, 1997).
200
belonged was clearly influenced by the tradition of Mollâ Sadrâ

and Sabzavâri, that often had strong tendencies towards specula-
tive mysticism and gnosis (erfân), as well as an occasional appreci-
ation for the peripatetic tradition of Avicenna. Among other influ-
ential figures, significant contributions were further made to phil-
osophical instruction and discourse by, for example, Mirzâ Hasan
Âshtiyâni (1833–1902) and Mirzâ Hasan Kermânshâhi (1835–1918),
around the turn of the century.
However, their philosophical similarities or differences notwith-
standing, these authors belonged to a scholastic tradition which, on
practical and juristic questions, was by and large identified with
the analytic methodology—i. e., the osuli approach in Shi’i law.
This approach was in turn transferred to a new generation of pu-
pils some of whom, such as Mohammad Fâtemi Qomi (1873–1945),
Sayyed Nasr-Allâh Taqavi (Sâdât Akhavi) (1871–1947), Sheykh
Mohammad Abdo Borujerdi (1883–1967), and Mohammad-Kâzem
Assâr (c. 1884–1975), among others, were instrumental in drafting
Iran’s civil code (in the 1920 s and 1930 s) and contributing to legal
reforms during the early Pahlavi period.116
Reform Literature
From around the mid-19th century onwards an increasing number

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

From the time of the opening of the Dâr al-Fonun in 1851 till Iran’s
constitutional revolution of 1906 a significant volume of pro-reform
literature was produced in Iran and the outside.117 Also it should be
noted that, thanks to the introduction of print, an effective means
of communication regarding this body of work, we find journal-
ism and a broad range of periodicals published both domestically
and abroad, a topic that is treated elsewhere in the present volume.
Modern Persian political writings were influenced by their Arabic
and Turkish counterparts of the same period which, in turn, had
been influenced by European (such as French, Italian, and British)
political literature in style and substance. Modern Persian political
writings, similar to their Middle Eastern counterparts, were also
drawn to the question concerning the role of Islam, other ideolog-
ical matters of consensus or contention (such as traditionalism ver-
sus modernity, or nationalism versus ethnicity) notwithstanding.
Mirzâ Yusof Khân Tabrizi’s Yak kaleme
The constitutional movement in Iran was primarily articulated

on a number of interrelated themes and concepts such as quest for
justice, codifying the laws, and uniformity in legal process. These
ideas were expressed in a broad range of reform tracts and essays
that were published at an unprecedented speed and volume in
various periodicals and publications. One such reform tract, Yak
kaleme (One Word), by Mirzâ Yusof Khân Tabrizi (Mostashâr-
al-Dowle), was initially completed in an early date of 1871 and
was later published in various editions (in 1891, etc.). In the 1860 s
and 1870 s, Mostashâr-al-Dowle had held various diplomatic posts
which took him to Russia and Europe. In his tract, he compares
and contrasts the backward situation in Iran with European prog-
ress, and states that the implementation of only “one word,” “law,”
caused European progress and its absence hampered Iran in the
way of progress. He then goes on to explain that this is a kind of
117 For Dâr-al-Fonun, see John Gurney and Negin Nabavi, “Dār al-Fonun,” in
EIr, VI, pp. 662–68.
202
law, which regulates the relation between the state and the people,
is produced by consensus and representation, is clearly written and
distributed across land, and is uniformly applied to all members
of the society. In the words of the opening sections of Yak kaleme:
‫ س ّر‬،‫عزم اینرا کردم با یکی از دوستان که از تواریخ و احادیث اسالم اطالع کامل داشت مالقات کرده‬
‫این معنی را بفهمم که چرا سایر ملل به چنان ترقییات عظیمه رسیده اند و ما در چنین حالت کسالت‬
‫ «که بنیان و اصول نظم فرنگستان یک کلمه است و هر‬:‫و بی نظمی باقی مانده ایم… جوابم چنین داد‬
…»‫گونه ترقیات و خوبی ها در آنجا دیده میشود نتیجه همان یک کلمه است‬
‫ یک کلمه که جمیع انتظامات فرنگستان در آن مندرج است کتاب قانون‬،‫آن دوست چنین گفت‬
‫است که جمیع شرایط و انتظامات معمول بها که به امور دنیویه تعلق دارد در آن مح ّرر و مسطور است‬
‫و دولت و امت معا کفیل بقای آنست چنانکه هیچ فردی از سکنه فرانسه یا انگلیس یا نمسه یا پروس‬
‫مطلق التصرف نیست یعنی در هیچ کاری که متعلق به امور محاکمه و مرافعه و سیاست و امثال آن‬
‫ شاه و گدا و رعیت و لشگری در بند آن مقید هستند و‬.‫باشد به هوای نفس خود عمل نمی تواند کرد‬
‫احدی قدرت مخالفت به کتاب قانون ندارد و باید بدانید که قانون را به لسان فرانسه لووا می گویند و‬
‫مشتمل بر چند کتابست که هر یک از آنها را «کود» می نامند و آن کود ها در نزد اهالی فرانسه بمنزله‬
118…‫ اما در میان این دو فرق زیاد هست‬،‫کتاب شریعت است در نزد مسلمانان‬
I decided to meet with one of my friends who was fully informed

about Islamic historiography and Traditions, in order to unravel
this conundrum: Why have other countries achieved such progress,
while we have remained in such a state of lethargy and disorder? …
His response was that the foundation and the origins of the Euro-
pean system of administration are one word and every sort of prog-
ress and benefit one sees here result from this single word…
My friend said: “The one word that encapsulates all administration
in Europe is the book of law, in which all conditions and routine ad-
ministrative procedures that relate to worldly matters are recorded.
The government and the people together undertake to maintain the
continued existence of the law, in such a way that no individual liv-
ing whether in France, England, Germany, or Austria holds absolute
power. In other words, in any case that relates to criminal and civil
118 Mirzâ Yusof Khân Tabrizi (Mostashâr-al-Dowle), Yak kaleme, ed. and
tr. A. A. Seyed-Gohrab and S. McGlinn as One Word—Yak Kaleme: 19th
Century Persian Treatise Introducing Western Codified Law (Leiden, 2010),
pp. 8, 10, 12. For Mostashâr-al-Dowle, see further Mehrdad Kia, “Consti-
tutionalism, Economic Modernization and Islam in the Writings of Mirza
Yusef Khan Mostashar od-Dowleh,” Middle Eastern Studies 30/4 (1994),
pp. 751–77.
203
PERSIAN PROSE
law or politics and such like matters, he cannot follow his own per-
sonal inclination. The king and the beggar, subjects and soldiers are
bound to follow it and no one has the power to oppose the book of
law. You should know that law in the French language is called loi
and it comprises several volumes, each of which is called a code. For
French people these codes are the same as Shari’a-books for Muslims
but there are many differences between the two …”119
The idea of articulation and implementation of the law influenced
the production of a significant volume of reform literature prior
to Iran’s constitutional movement (1906–1911) and included au-
thors with diverse ideological orientation from secular reformists
to pro-constitutional olamâ. Most of the literature thus produced
was in the form of tracts or treatises (sing. resâle) and was published
as such or was in the form of essays (sing. maqâle) and appeared in
periodicals.
Mohammad-Hoseyn Nâ’ini’s Tanbih al-omme va tanzih al-melle
A significant example of tracts written during Iran’s constitutional

movement by the olamâ and in defense of constitutional govern-
ment was Mohammad-Hoseyn Nâ’ini’s well-known treatise Tan-
bih al-omme va tanzih al-melle (Awakening the Community and
Purifying the Nation), written in 1909.120 The text is divided into
one introduction, five chapters, and a concluding section. The first
chapter gives a general account of a government based on religious
precepts and equates it with government based on reason. Chapters
two, three and four provide a defense of constitutional government
based on consultation, consensus and setting limits on the pow-
ers of the government, Chapter five defines the qualifications of
those who would be eligible to be representatives at the consul-
tative assembly or the parliament (the Majles). In this text, Nâ’ini
asserts that the religious questions (omur‑e shar’i) have already
119 Mostashâr-al-Dowle, One Word, pp. 9, 12, 13.

120 For recent editions, see Mohammad-Hoseyn Nâ’ini, Tanbih al-omme va
tanzih al-melle, ed. with introd. and additions by Sayyed Mahmud Tâle-
qâni (Tehran, 1955), and ed. Sayyed Javâd Vara’i (Tehran, 2003).
204
been clarified in the Qur’an. For clarification of public, social, and

non-religious questions (omur‑e orfi) the community must rely on
experts in these areas. Accordingly, determining the relationship
between the people and the ruler belongs to omur‑e orfi. Although
as a Shi’i thinker, Nâ’ini considered the only just rule to be that of
the Hidden Imam, in practice, during the period of Occultation
before the reappearance of the Imam, it is not only possible but also
legitimate to regulate the relationships between the people and the
government in accordance with certain laws and instructions that
are offered by experts. Although in a real sense the Constitution
was designed to replace the Shari‛a, Nâ’ini nevertheless dismissed
an Akhbâri criticism that Constitutional legislation in Islamic
countries would be a heretical innovation (bed’a).121 Furthermore,
the pro-constitutionalist olamâ, such as Nâ’ini, focused their atten-
tion to replace arbitrary rule with a “conditional” (mashrut) (hence
mashrute for “constitutional”) form of government that would
be compatible with Islamic recommendations in favor of justice,
consultation, and consensus. Here too the prose forms of resâle
and maqâle were widely used by authors with different ideological
and political perspectives.122 In particular the constitutional period
witnessed the proliferation of Persian prose writing and journalism
with social and political content that were published both inside
Iran and abroad. In view of their intended audience, these writings
121 For Nâ’ini, see Abdul-Hadi Hairi, Shiʿ ism and Constitutionalism in Iran:
A Study of the Role Played by the Persian Residents of Iraq in Iranian Poli-
tics (Leiden, 1977); see further Fereshteh M. Nouraie, “The Constitutional
Ideas of a Shiʿite Mujtahid: Muhammad Husayn Nâ’înî,” IrSt 8/4 (1975),
pp. 234–47.
122 For samples of political tracts in this period both in defence of constitution-
alism and in opposition to it see, for example, Mohammad-Esmâ’il Rezvâni,
“Bist-o-do resâle-ye tablighâti az dowre-ye enqelâb‑e mashrutiyat,” Râh-
nemâ-ye ketâb 12/5–6 (1969), pp. 229–40 and 371–77; Gholâm-Hoseyn Sad-
iqi, “Dah resâle-ye tablighâti-ye digar az sadr‑e mashrutiyat,” Râhnemâ-
ye ketâb, 13/1–2 (1970), pp. 17–24; Fereydun Âdamiyat and Homâ Nâteq,
Afkâr‑e ejtemâ’i va siyâsi va eqtesâdi dar âthâr‑e montasher-nashode-ye
dowrân‑e Qâjâr, (Tehran, 1977); and Gholâm-Hoseyn Zargarinezhâd, ed.,
Rasâ’el‑e Mashrutiyat: 18 resâle va lâyehe dar-bâre-ye mashrutiyat, (Teh-
ran, 1995).
205
PERSIAN PROSE
were mostly in Persian and were written in a style that was, by and
large, accessible to the reading public.123
Also in this period a gradual impact of translations can be noted.
These translations, ranging from literary works to political analy-
ses, were often made either directly from a European language to
Persian or through Arabic and Turkish translations and renditions.
In this context particular reference can be made to the Persian
translation by Abd-al-Hoseyn Mirzâ Qâjâr of the Syrian author
Abd-al-Rahmân Kavâkebi’s Tabâye’ al-estebdâd (The Nature of
Tyranny). This book which was originally published in Egypt (c.
1904 or 1905), was influential on Nâ’ini’s Tanbih al-omme.124
4. Concluding Notes
Beyond the introduction and the growing use of print in the 19th
century and the general ease that it has ever since provided in ac-
cessing and generating texts, more recent advances, such as the use
of information technology, have also had significant impact on dif-
ferent aspects of the reception of traditional branches of learning.
Perhaps it is safe to argue that these technological advances have
opened new prospects that, together with considerable expansions
in education and communication, will have far reaching implica-
tions. In the case of transmitted sciences (olum‑e naqli), for in-
stance, the technical facility to access a diverse range of records,
genealogies, and bibliographic information with ease and speed
could perhaps release considerable amount of time on the part of
the student who would have otherwise been expected to study the
123 For Persian press in the constitutional period see, for example, H. L. Rabino,
Surat‑e jarâyed‑e Iran (Rasht, 1911); and E. G. Browne and M. A. Tarbiyat,
The Press and Poetry of Modern Persia (Cambridge, 1914).
124 See Abd-al-Rahmân Kavâkebi, Tabâye’ al-estebdâd (new editions, Teh-
ran, 1985, and Qom, 1999). For Kavâkebi’s influence on Nâ’ini, see Hairi,
Shiʿ ism and Constitutionalism in Iran. It has also been pointed out that
Kavâkebi, in turn, was influenced by European ideas, such as by the writ-
ings of the Italian author Vittorio Alfieri. See, for example, Sylvia G. Haim,
“Alfieri and al-Kawākibi,” Oriente Moderno 34/7 (1954), pp. 321–34.
206
material over a long period. Similarly, further use of information

technology will have a beneficial impact on the scope and sub-
stance of analytic discourse (olum‑e aqli) by bringing about new
questions and introducing innovative modes of analysis.
In the 20th century one can also observe a gradual process of
shifting the center of gravity in philosophical discourse and textual
production from the scholastic tradition of Persian philosophy to
new, and largely heterogeneous, directions such as historical anal-
ysis, social theory, and translation. Also a significant amount of
work has been devoted by modern scholars to record and register
and to produce new critical editions of classical material. In this
regard earlier works by a number of individual orientalists, by the
virtue of their erudition and methodology, further served to in-
spire later scholars to maintain such standards in textual criticism
and analysis. However, in spite of important achievements, some of
which were briefly referred to in the preceding pages, a great deal of
work still remains to be done. On the other hand the core curric-
ulum of the Islamic seminaries inside Iran (most notably in Qom
and Mashhad but also in Tehran, Isfahan and Shiraz) has remained
firmly within the general instruction of Shi’i jurisprudence (feqh).
In olum‑e naqli Mashhad has maintained its traditional adherence
and has shown a continued, if tacit, resistance to the analytic (osuli)
approach of its rival seminaries in Qom and Najaf. The founding
of new modern institutions, beginning with Tehran University in
1930 s, also marked a new phase in philosophical activity that was
particularly influential in introducing some of the preliminary te-
nets of western thought.
Although students of philosophy in modern educational institu-
tions have often been challenged by their instructional timeframe
and their limited command of a philosophical language, during the
past few decades a receptive community of discourse, with diverse
interests in both scholastic tradition and in modern philosophy, has
evolved that relies mostly on Persian as a philosophical medium. In
this context a better grasp of the linguistic capital of philosophical
Persian and a more comprehensive exposure to its classical heritage
will therefore benefit further attempts at translations, innovative
commentaries, and analyses.
207
PERSIAN PROSE
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216
CHAPTER 4
SCIENCE IN PERSIAN
Ziva Vesel in collaboration with Sonja Brentjes
1. Introduction
In the Islamic world, the genre of “expository discourse” pertains

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

d’Avicenne,” Cahiers de MIDEO 13 (1977), pp. 323–35.
2 Which was not the case of the term “art/craft” (senâ’e).
3 For the extensive survey of these materials in Arabic see for instance Ebn-
Sinâ, al-Shefâ’; cf. multi-part article “Avicenna,” EIr., III, pp. 66–110.
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latter from the very beginning of the New Persian written lan-
guage in the 10th century.4
The earliest Persian scientific texts, preserved in later copies,
date from the last quarter of the 10th century. Their very variety in-
dicates that they might have been more numerous at the origin: an
anonymous treatise on geography dating from 982, Hodud al-âlam
(Limits of the World);5 a guide on medical art, Hedâyat al-mota’al-
lemîn fi’l tebb (Guidance for Students in Medicine) by Akhaveyni
of Bukhara (d. ca. 983);6 a pharmacological treatise al-Abniye an
haqâyeq al-adviye (Fundamentals on the True Nature of Pharma-
cology) by Abu-Mansur of Herat (ca. 975), which is transmitted in
the oldest Persian manuscript copy extant, dated 1056;7 a medical
poem Dânesh-nâme-ye Meysari (The Book of Science by Meysari;
980);8 an anonymous Persian translation dating from the Ghaz-
navid era of an Arabic manual on astrology, al-Madkhal elâ elm
ahkâm al-nojum (Introduction to the Art of Astrology), composed
in 976 by Abu-Nasr Hasan Qomi.9 Interestingly, these texts, which
are among the very first texts of Persian written literature, corre-
spond to adaptations, rather than straight translations, of scientific
knowledge in Arabic. The vulgarization of the latter in Persian was
probably in tune with nationalistic tendencies prevalent in eastern
Iran; the author of the medical poem, the physician Meysari, says:
“… our country is Iran and the majority of its habitants speak only
Persian … I’ll write in dari [i. e. literary Persian] so that everybody
4 For a detailed linguistic and codicological study of Persian scientific texts

of the pre-Mongol period, see G. Lazard, La langue des plus anciens monu-
ments de la prose persane (Paris, 1963).
5 See infra Geography.
6 H. H. Biesterfeldt, “Aḵawaynī Boḵārī,” in EIr, I, pp. 706–7.
7 L. Richter-Bernburg, “Abu Mansur Heravī,” in EIr I, pp. 336–37.
8 G. Lazard, “Le livre de science de Meisari” in Les premiers poètes persans
(2 vols., Paris and Tehran, 1964), I, pp. 36–40 and 163–80 (French tr.), II,
pp. 178–94 (extracts of the text). For a complete edition of the poem, see
Hakim Meysari, Dânesh-nâme dar elm‑e pezeshki, ed. Barât Zanjâni (Teh-
ran, 1987).
9 Abu-Nasr Hasan b. Alî Qomi, Tarjome al-Madkhal elâ elm‑e ahkâm
al-nojum, ed. J. Akhavân Zanjânî, Tehran, 1996.
218
Science in Persian
may know my book …”10 But a second reason for using Persian
was the gradual decline in literacy in Arabic.11
This is clearly indicated by some references in the texts them-
selves: the Dânesh-nâme-ye Alâ’i (The Book of Science for Alâʾ-
al-Dowle) of Avicenna was written in Persian for the Kakuid
Doshmanzyâr between 1023 and 1037 as he did not know Arabic
and wished to read philosophy in Persian, which is probably also
the case for the short medical treatise Rag-shenâsi (Knowledge of
the Pulse), since Avicenna was “ordered” (farmud) to write it in
Persian. Another testimony is the note in the colophon of the Ara-
bic MS copy of Dioscorides’ Ketâb al-hashâyesh (Materia Medica,
1st c. ce) of Nâteli’s revision made in Samarqand. Although chrono-
logically of a later date, this example is nevertheless interesting:
Mohammad Râmi, the author of the (lost) Persian translation of
Dioscorides, dated 510/1116, offers the following explanatory note
“… Arabic has fallen into disuse and Persian has become the most
desirable language …”12
The earliest texts were written in plain and fluent Persian but later
they became increasingly inundated with Arabic in their vocabu-
lary. Avicenna’s attempt in Dânesh-nâme to express philosophical
and scientific concepts in Persian proved ultimately unsuccessful,
if we are to believe Shahmardân b. Abi’l-Kheyr Râzi, another au-
thor writing for the Kakuids. He makes two critical points in his
Rowzat al-monajjemin (The Garden of Astrologers) and in his
Nozhat-nâme-ye Alâ’i (The Book of Delights for Alâ’-al-Dowle):
first, that Doshmanzyâr, having commissioned Avicenna to write
in Persian so that the work would be intelligible to him, was un-
able to follow the contents; and second, that in any case the Arabic
terminology was preferable to the Persian.13 In general, the Per-
10 Lazard, “Le livre de science …,” I, p. 166, II, p. 182.

11 Cf. Lutz Richter-Bernburg, “Linguistic Shuʿūbīya and Early Neo-Persian
Prose,” JRAS 94 (1974), pp. 55–64.
12 Cf. M. M. Sadek, The Arabic Materia Medica of Dioscorides (St. Jean-
Chrysostome, Quebec, 1983), p. 29.
13 Shahmardân b. Abi’l-Kheyr Râzi, Rowzat al-monajjemin, ed. J. Akhavân
Zanjâni (Tehran, 2003), pp. 2–3, and idem, Nozhat-nâme-ye Alâ’i, ed. F.
Jahânpur (Tehran, 1983), p. 22.
219
PERSIAN PROSE
sian versions of Arabic scientific texts were usually summarized

adaptations of the author’s own Arabic works and used the same
terminology in both versions.
Persian scientific treatises share common formal features with
other categories of expository discourse (of longer or shorter scope:
ketâb or resâle): The introduction usually starts with religious for-
muli, gives the name of the author as well as the dedicatee, the rea-
son for writing, the title of the work, and less frequently a table of
contents. The end of the treatise is less extensive, merely insert-
ing “finished in the year …,” and very occasionally appending an
epilogue. Of course, this model varies constantly. These treatises
can contain several elements of literary value: short—or sometimes
longer—poems on the subject, lengthy laudatory adjectives to de-
scribe the dedicatee, anecdotes (historical or legendary), etc. The
formal distribution of their contents can reflect their use: questions
and answers (examinations, discussions, and teaching technique);14
thirty sections (for the days of a month?); twelve questions and
answers in each of thirty sections, i. e. three hundred and sixty
questions (for the days of the year?), etc.; several versions of one
text indicate various dedicatees. These aspects should undoubtedly
be interpreted in relationship with the main types of scholarly de-
velopment: The patronage of the courts, the teaching circles, the
family lineages of professions, and the existence of “amateurs de
sciences”—the private individuals interested in science.
What is more specific to scientific treatises is the frequent obser-
vation on the usefulness and the excellence of knowledge in general.
In the case of specific topics, its previous authorities and, in the
introduction, the description of its theoretical scientific framework
(for instance, description of the world and the genesis of various
aspects of life) can be mentioned. There is nevertheless no general
definition of science that would be common to all disciplines.
14 For the most emblematic example of the genre in Arabic see Biruni and
Ebn-Sinâ, al-As’ele va’l-ajvebe, ed. and introd. by S. H. Nasr and M. Moha-
ghegh as al-Asʾ ilah wa’l-Ajwibah / Questions and Answers (Tehran 2005).
In general, see H. Daiber, “Masāʾil wa-Adjwiba” in EI2, VI, pp. 636 a–639 b.
220
Science in Persian
The following pages focus solely on some important Persian scien-

tific texts according to different disciplines and thematics (roughly
following the above-mentioned medieval division of mathematics
and physics),15 with an attempt to list various genres generated by
each field, underlying the eventual originality of Persian texts in
their relationship to Arabic models, and paying particular atten-
tion to their literary and artistic aspects.
2. Encyclopedias and Popular Cosmographies
The encyclopedia Mafâtih al-olum (Keys to the Sciences), writ-

ten in Arabic between 976–91 by Abu-Abd-Allâh Khwârazmi al-
kâteb16 for the Samanid ruler Nuh II at the request of his vizier,
Abu’l-Hasan Otbi, is often cited as a typical example of the di-
vision between the “traditional” (naqli) and “intellectual” (aqli)
sciences and its explanation. Regarding encyclopedias in Persian,
their richness in subdivisions of mathematics and physics, basically
following the division of sciences by Avicenna, is particularly vis-
ible in Jâme’ al-olum of Fakhr-al-Din Râzi (d. 1210)17 and Nafâyes
al-fonun of Shams-al-Din Âmoli (14th c.),18 since their authors were
familiar with madrasa curricula.
15 Except occasionally for one field, the present chapter will exclude any dis-
cussion of pre-Islamic texts, or Arabic texts by Iranian authors in a com-
prehensive manner, or publications after the 16th century, or redactions or
translations in Ottoman Turkey and India. Mechanics on the one hand, oc-
cult sciences, namely alchemy, on the other, deserve a separate study and are
only occasionally referred to in this chapter. For a general survey of Arabic
texts of Iranian authors, see R. Rashed, ed., History of Arabic Science (3 vols.,
London, 1996); for a survey of Persian scientific texts, see C. A. Storey, PL
II/1, II/2, II/3; A. Monzavi, Fehrestvâre-ye ketâbhâ-ye fârsi / Catalogue of
Persian Manuscripts in Several Libraries (Tehran, 2001). For technology, see
the publications of D. R. Hill and Parviz Mohebbi in the bibliography below.
16 C. E. Bosworth, “A Pioneer Arabic Encyclopedia of the Sciences: al-
Khwârizmî’s Keys of the Sciences,” Isis 54, pp. 97–111.
17 Fakhr-al-Din Râzi, Jâme’ al-olum (Settini), ed. S. A. Âl‑e Dâvud (Tehran, 2004).
18 Shams-al-Din Âmoli, Nafâyes al-fonun fi arâyes al-oyun, ed. A. Sha’râni (3
vols., Tehran, 1957–59).
221
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Jâme’ al-olum (Compendium of Sciences), an encyclopedia of

sixty sciences and therefore called Ketâb‑e settini (and bearing also
the literary title Hadâyeq al-anvâr fi haqâyeq al-asrâr—The Gar-
den of Lights in the Truth of Secrets), was written in 1179 by the
Ash’arite Fakhr-al-Din Râzi for the ruler of Khwârazm, Alâ-al-Din
Tekesh (r. 1200–1220), of the last dynasty of the Khwârazmshâhs.
Râzi spent three years in Khwârazm before he was forced to leave at
the instigation of local Mo’tazelites. It was then that he decided to
write his encyclopedia in order to provide a repertory of both naqli
and aqli sciences, treating their principles (osul) and their applica-
tions (foru’), which would allow “the king’s servants” to compose
books [for the king] on sciences that would interest him.19
Jâme’ is important for the elaborate construction of its contents,
something that was not attempted to such an extent in similar
writings later. The majority of the sciences are treated from three
angles: three simple principles; three complex principles; three
examinations (in the form of questions).20 It possibly reflects the
curriculum of the Madrase-ye Mojâhediyye in Marâghe, where in
the 12 th century the young Râzi followed the courses of Majd-al-
Din Jili, courses that were also attended by Shehâb-al-Din Sohra-
vardi.21 The first part of Jâme’ is devoted to “traditional” sciences.
The second part, which is devoted to “intellectual” sciences, treats
in order twenty-two matters: logic, natural philosophy/physics,
oneirocriticism, physiognomy, medicine, anatomy, pharmacopeia,
“proprieties” (elm‑e khavâss), alchemy, precious stones, talismans,
agriculture, cleansing techniques (elm‑e qal’ al-âthâr), veterinary
sciences (horses), falconry, geometry, topography (elm al-masâhe),
traction of weights (elm‑e jarr al-ethqâl), weaponry, Indian reck-
oning, mental reckoning, algebra, arithmetic, magic squares, optics,
19 Râzi, Jâme’, pp. 69–70.

20 For the survey of the contents of Jâme’ al-olûm, see Z. Vesel, “Les ency-
clopédies persanes: culture scientifique en langue vernaculaire,” in C. de
Callataÿ and B. van den Abeele, eds., Une lumière venue d’ailleurs : Héri-
tages et ouvertures dans les encyclopédies d’Orient et d’Occident au Moyen
Age (Turnhout, 2008), pp. 80–89.
21 Majmu’e-ye falsafi-ye Marâghe / A Philosophical Anthology from Mara-
ghah, ed. N. Purjavâdi (Tehran, 2002), p. iv.
222
Science in Persian
music, astronomy, astrology, geomancy, exorcism, metaphysics,

sects, morals, politics, domestic economy, future life, prayers, con-
duct of kings (âdâb al-moluk), and chess.
The sub-divisions of physics and mathematics progressively in-
crease or change with later encyclopedists: Nafâyes al-fonun (The
Precious Arts) of Shams-al-Din Âmoli, who was a modarres at
Soltâniyye, contains 160 “sciences” altogether, introducing plan-
etary theory (hay’e) and administrative geography (masâlek va
mamâlek) in the chapter on branches of mathematical sciences, and
it has a long literary introduction with a heavily arabicized vocab-
ulary. It was written in Shiraz in 1340, after the fall of the Ilkha-
nid empire, for the Injuid Abu-Eshâq. Mohammad Fâzel Samar-
qandi in his Javâher al-olum‑e Homâyuni (Gems of Sciences for
Homâyun),22 written circa 1555 for the Mughal emperor Homâyun
(r. 1530–56), attempts to treat 120 sciences, basing himself on both
Râzi’s Jâme’ and Âmoli’s Nafâyes. Rostamdâri in his Riyâz al-
abrâr (Gardens of the Pious),23 a Shi’ite encyclopedia written in
1571 in Shiraz, includes ninety sciences, outdoing the sixty sciences
of Râzi, but the table of contents follows an idiosyncratic plan of
his own. He was an independent scholar who spent twenty years in
travels in search of knowledge, and in his introduction he cites his
sources, including those on hay’e.
As well as the above-mentioned general encyclopedias, differ-
ent types of encyclopedic writings in Arabic were produced in the
Iranian world, often with their counterpart in Persian. Dânesh-
nâme-ye Alâʾi by Avicenna24 and Dorrat al-tâj (Pearls of the Crown)25
22 A. Rahman, Science and Technology in Medieval India: A Bibliography of

Source Materials in Sanskrit, Arabic and Persian (New Delhi 1982), p. 607.
23 Storey, PL, II/3 F, p. 359 (no. 597); Ch. Rieu, Supplement to the Catalogue of
the Persian Manuscripts in the British Museum (London, 1895), pp. 103–105
(no. 144).
24 Abu-Ali Ebn-Sinâ (Avicenna), Dânesh-nâme-ye Alâʾ î I: Resâle-ye manteq,
ed. M. Moʾin and M. Meshkât (Tehran, 1974); II: Elâhiyyât, ed. M. Moʾin
(Tehran, 1974); III: Tabi’iyyât, ed. M. Meshkât (Tehran, 1952, 2nd ed., Tehran,
1975). For the revised French translation, which contains also mathematics,
cf. Avicenna, Le livre de science, tr. M. Achena and H. Massé (Paris, 1986).
25 Qotb-al-Din Shirâzi, Dorrat al-tâj le-ghorrat al-debbâj, ed. M. Meshkât (2
vols., Tehran, 1938–41).
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PERSIAN PROSE
written between 1294 and 1306 by Qotb-al-Din Shirâzi are exam-

ples of Persian encyclopedias of philosophy that both contain im-
portant theoretical chapters on mathematical and physical sciences.
Among the most popular encyclopedic writings are the cosmogra-
phies describing the universe in a descendant order, from the sky
down to man. The Ajâyeb al-makhluqât va gharâyeb al-mow-
judât (Wonders of Creation and Marvels of Existing Things) by
Zakariyâ Qazvini (d. 1283) in Arabic is the most popular work of
the genre26 and was translated into Persian. Both versions are usu-
ally accompanied by beautiful illustrations of planets, signs of the
zodiac, and other constellations, plants, and animals. But the first
encyclopedia bearing this title was written directly in Persian by
Mohammad Tusi-Salmâni between 1167 and 1178 for the Saljuq
ruler of Iraq, Abu-Tâleb Toghril b. Arslan b. Toghril.27 It is a real
curiosity since one of its rare manuscript copies contains illustra-
tions in an archaic style.28 Later authors tried their hand at new
versions in the same genre, as for instance Soltân-Mohammad b.
Darvish-Mohammad al-Mofti Balkhi (d. 1574) who wrote the Ma-
jma’ al-gharâyeb (Compendium of Marvels) and dedicated it to the
prince-governor of Balkh, Pir Mohammad (r. 1556–61). In another
copy, the text is dedicated to the Sheybanid ruler Abd-Allâh II b.
Eskandar Khân (r. 1560–98)29. It was not uncommon for a single
text to have successively different dedicatees. Balkhi informs us in
his introduction that he attended the session (majles) at the court
26 For the genre in general, cf. B. Radtke, Weltgeschichte und Weltbeschrei-
bung im mittelalterlichen Islam (Beirut and Stuttgart, 1992).
27 B. Radtke, “Die älteste islamische Kosmographie: Muḥammad-i Ṭūsī’s
ʿAğā’ib ul-maḫlūqāt,” Der Islam 64 (1987), pp. 278–88; Mohammad b.
Mahmud b. Ahmad Tusi-Salmâni, Ajâyeb al-makhluqât, ed. M. Sotude
(Tehran 1966); for another edition, Mohammad b. Mahmud Hamadâni,
Ajâyeb-nâme, ed. J. M. Sâdeqi (Tehran, 1996). For ajâyeb literature in Per-
sian see the publications of Karin Rührdanz.
28 See for instance Z. Vesel, S. Tourkin, and Y. Porter, with the collaboration
of F. Richard and F. Ghasemloo, Images of Islamic Science: Illustrated Man-
uscripts from the Iranian World (Tehran, 2009), especially pp. 179–80, ills.
nos. 157 and 158; A. Caiozzo, “Une conception originales des cieux, pla-
nètes et zodiaque d’une cosmographie jalayeride,” Annales Islamologiques
37 (2003), pp. 59–78.
29 Cf. Storey, PL, II/1 D, pp. 135–37 (no. 199).
224
Science in Persian
where he narrated ajâyeb literature and was invited to write on the

subject. He also provides very rich information on his native city
of Balkh and records the dates of the Marâghe and Samarqand ob-
servatories, respectively 1258 and 1436.
Among other types of encyclopedias in the Iranian world those
dedicated to technology in Persian are particularly interesting and
important,30 but they still await systematic study.
3. Mathematical Sciences (Quadrivium)
The mathematical sciences consisted of the four foundational disci-

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

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

sul’manskogo srednevekov’ya i ich trudy (VIII–XVII vv) (3 vols., Moscow,
1983), II, p. 124.
33 Matvievskaya and Rozenfel’d, Matematiki, II, p. 133.
34 Matvievskaya and Rozenfel’d, Matematiki, II, p. 160.
226
Science in Persian
during the 14th century at the latest, madrasas and mosques rose
to the fore. Although courts did not disappear as centers of Per-
sian writing and supporters of astrologers and religious scholars
interested in different parts of the mathematical sciences, from
the 15th century the proliferating mathematical literature in Per-
sian was either produced by students and teachers at madrasas or
if created in other urban contexts was mainly used in those educa-
tional contexts or shelved in private libraries and contributed to the
growing book collections at shrines or mosques. The typological
range of texts composed on mathematical topics was accordingly
broad: short letters to friends, colleagues, or students; textbooks;
synopses, summaries, or surveys; exercise books; didactic poems;
elucidating or criticizing commentaries as independent works or
as marginalia; notebooks; encyclopedias of different kinds. Most
of these works served educational or informational purposes. A
smaller number focused on debates and new or modified ideas and
questions. This applies in particular to topics in planetary theory.
The majority of all these types of texts were newly written in Per-
sian. But some also were translations from Arabic. Such transla-
tions were primarily made from Nasir-al-Din Tusi’s (1201–74) edi-
tion of Euclid’s Elements and from a small number of surveys or
manuals such as Bahâ’-al-Din al-Âmoli’s (1546–1622) Kholâsat al-
hesâb (The Essence of Arithmetics). The majority of mathematical
works in Persian was written and used under various dynasties in
Iran, Central Asia, India, and parts of the Ottoman Empire be-
tween about 1400 and 1900.
Geometry
One of the very few ancient mathematical texts that were translated
into Persian was Euclid’s Elements. Such translations were made
more than once in Iran and India from the 13th to the 18th centu-
ries.35 The first author known to have written a commentary on a
35 S. Brentjes, “On the Persian Transmission of Euclid’s Elements,” in Z. Vesel
et al., eds., La science dans le monde iranien, pp. 73–94.
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PERSIAN PROSE
part of the Elements in Persian is Hosâm-al-Din Sâlâr, who entered

the service of the Mongol army after 1220. He was imprisoned and
later executed in 1262 for his wrong prediction of the outcome of
the battle of Baghdad between Hulegu Khân (r. 1258–1265) and the
caliph al-Mosta’sem (r. 1242–1258). In his commentaries, he dis-
cussed proofs of the theorems of Book I. Most of the extant Persian
texts on geometry and surveying present planar figures from the
Elements such as triangles, quadrangles, and circular figures com-
bining them with other figures not treated by Euclid such as oval,
step-like, or rose-like forms. In some cases, they contain rules for
calculating their area, circumference, or diagonal.
Arithmetic and Algebra
Many Persian texts on arithmetic and algebra were written for edu-
cational purposes. They taught the different systems of calculation
and numeration such as the Indian decimal system, calculating by
heart and fingers, or the sexagesimal system with letters used in as-
tronomy and astrology. Very often they bear no author’s name and
only a generic title, e. g., Resâle dar hesâb (Treatise on Arithmetic)
or Resâle dar jabr va moqâbele (Treatise on Algebra).
A Persian text of this genre whose author is known is the Lobb‑e
hesâb (The Quintessence of Arithmetics) by Ali b. Yusof b. Ali
Monshi (12th century).36 It consists of an introduction, four parts,
and a concluding section. Each part is divided into several chapters
and each chapter into numerous sections. It combines types of cal-
culation and numeration with problems from algebra. In contrast
to today’s approach, it does not treat addition and subtraction, but
starts immediately from multiplication and the extraction of roots.
Then follows the division of integers and fractions. Further topics
of arithmetic treated by Monshi concern even numbers and their
parts, squares and cubes and their roots, and methods to check
36 Ali b. Yusof b. Ali Monshi, Lobb al hesâb, introd. by J. Shirâziyân (Tehran,

1989), a facsimile of a unicum MS of the 6th /12th c., Central Library of the
University of Tehran.
228
Science in Persian
results. He then turns to what is now called irrational numbers fol-

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

written in the 11th century by Eyn-al-Zamân Hasan b. Ali Qattân
Marvazi (1072–1153) entitled Geyhân-shenâkht (Knowledge of the
37 Mohammad b. Ayyub Tabari, Ma’refât‑e ostorlâb ma’rûf be Shesh fasl be

zamîme-ye A’mâl va alqâb , ed. M. Amin Riyâhi (Tehran, 1993).
38 On the use of this metaphor in poetry see S. Ghazni, Seyr‑e akhtarân dar
Divân‑e Hâfez (Tehran, 2001), note 138.
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PERSIAN PROSE
Universe).39 It consists of three parts. Part one discusses the struc-

ture of the universe and focuses on the supra-lunar world. It con-
tains a diagram of homocentric circles representing the earth, the
moon, the planets, the sun, and the sphere of the fixed stars, as well
as planetary models and tables. Part two discusses the sublunar
world. It also presents a diagram for determining the prayer direc-
tion and a semi-circular map of the inhabited earth. Part three sur-
veys timekeeping, lunar phases, and lunar and solar eclipses, which
are visualized in tables and diagrams.
Five astronomical texts in Persian were written in the 13th and
early 14th centuries by Nasir-al-Din Tusi and Qotb-al-Din Shirâzi
(1236–1311): Resâle-ye Mo’iniyye dar hay’e (Treatise for Mo’in al-
Din on the Configuration [of the Universe], 1235), Hall‑e mosh-
kelât‑e Mo’iniyye (The Solution of Difficulties of the Mo‘iniyye,
1236), Zij‑e Ilkhâni (Ilkhanid Tables, completed in 1271), Zobde-ye
hay’e (The Essence of the Configuration [of the Universe], un-
known date), and Ekhtiyârât‐e Mozaffari (Elections for Mozaffar,
1281–82). Nasir-al-Din Tusi wrote the first four, and Qotb-al-Din
Shirâzi was the author of the last work. In particular Tusi’s texts
reveal the changed relationship between Arabic and Persian in his
scholarly activity. While his Arabic book al-Tadhkere fi elm al-
hay’e (Memoir on the Science of the Configuration [of the Uni-
verse]) became much more influential than his Persian texts, the
Mo’iniyye and its continuation Hall‑e moshkelât that preceded it,
set the frame for the later Arabic textbook, and already contained
some of Tusi’s new ideas for solving basic problems of Ptolemy’s
planetary models, among them the so-called Tusi Couple (joft‑e
Tusi)40. The Zobde was translated from Persian into Arabic, thereby
reversing the one-way Arabic to Persian relationship between
the two languages that existed previously. Persian had therefore
come into its own as a self-standing language of the mathematical
sciences.
39 Hasan b. Ali Qattân Marvazi, Geyhân-shenâkht, introd. by M. Mar’ashi

Najafi (Qom, 2000); facsimile of a MS dated 586/1190, Mar’ashi Library.
40 F. J. Ragep, Naṣīr al-Dīn al-Ṭûsî’s Memoir on Astronomy (al-Tadhkira fî
ʿ ilm al-hayʾa) Volume I: Introduction, Edition, and Translation (New York,
1993), p. 65.
230
Science in Persian
The Mo’iniyye contains an introduction and three main parts

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

42 Ragep, Naṣīr al-Dīn al-Ṭûsî’s Memoir, pp. 66, 70.
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PERSIAN PROSE
of the Orbs), which was completed in November 1281 for a lo-

cal ruler in Kastamonu near Sinope on the southern shores of the
Black Sea. The Persian summary is undated, but recent research
has ascribed it to the months immediately after the composition of
the Arabic text.43 The title of the Persian work links it to the field
of astrology, but its content displays a substantial amount of high-
er-level discussion on planetary models. That is why the text is of-
ten characterized in modern research as belonging to elm al-hay’e.
Such a view is supported by Shirâzi’s preface in which he praises
astronomy and criticizes the shortcomings of Ptolemy’s Almagest.
In this preface, Shirâzi also describes his work as an introductory
course for beginners and identifies as his goal the preservation of
this kind of knowledge in Persian, his maternal language.44
There were two new versions of tables written in Persian most
likely under two Timurid princes (Eskandar-Soltân and Ulugh
Beg). One of them, known as Zij‑e Khâqâni, was the work of Ghi-
yâth-al-Din Jamshid Kâshi (Kâshâni). Its compilation began in
Iran, possibly in Shiraz (before 1413), including observational re-
sults (lunar eclipses) from Kashan (1405–6). Some tables were fin-
ished only after Kâshi had arrived in Samarqand (1420), invited by
Ulugh Beg.45 The other handbook was written by Kâshi’s succes-
sors at the observatory in Samarqand (1437), known under several
titles, for instance Zij‑e Ologh Beg. The latter was translated into
Arabic, Turkish, Sanskrit and partly into Latin. In the 15th century,
several but more elementary astronomical texts were composed
in Arabic or translated from it for Timurid and Ottoman rulers.
The many Persian astronomical texts that provide the basis for
43 K. Niazi, Quṭb al-Dīn Shīrāzī and the Configuration of the Heavens: A

Comparison of Texts and Models (Dordrecht, 2013); A. Gamini, “Quṭb al-
Dīn Shīrāzī and the Development of Non-Ptolemaic Planetary Modeling in
the 13th Century,” Arabic Sciences and Philosophy 27/2 (2017), pp. 165–203.
44 Niazi, Quṭb al-Dīn Shīrāzī, pp. 126–28.
45 Hamid Bohlul, “A Critical Edition, Translation, and Commentary of Ghi-
yāth al-Dīn Jamshīd Kāshānī’s Nuzhat al-Ḥadā’iq and its Appendices
along with a Survey of Origin, Construction, and Use of the Equatorium
(Ṣafīḥa) in the Islamic Astronomy,” Ph. D. diss., Institute for Humanities
and Cultural Studies (Tehran, 2017), pp. 22–26.
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Science in Persian
education at madrasas offer introductions to the structure of the

universe, planetary models—apparently mostly of the Ptolemaic
type—eclipses, and terrestrial climes.
Astrology
Astrology was practiced in pre-Islamic Iran to a high extent, not

only syncretizing foreign theories and transmitting them but also
developing original trends in the field.46 Among the latter, the most
important one was on the one hand historical astrology, based on
the conjunctions of Saturn and Jupiter, namely the Great Conjunc-
tion occurring every 960 years,47 in tune with Iranian millennial-
ism, and on the other hand, the introduction of the Head and the
Tail of (the imaginary planet) the Dragon among the planets. The
essentials of Sasanian astrological knowledge were incorporated in
the Arabic writings of Abu Ma’shar Balkhi (d. 886), especially in
his Great Introduction to Astrology, which contains in particular
the description of images of Teucros’ thirty-six decans (originally
translated from Greek to Middle Persian), and in his Ketâb al-
oluf (Book of Thousands) treating cycles based on conjunctions.
Ma’shar’s theories were summarized later by Ahmad b. Moham-
mad Abd-al-Jalil Sejzi (d. after 998) especially in his Arabic work
Jâme’ al-shâhi (The Royal Compendium). On the whole these ar-
chaisms gradually disappeared in Arabic writings on astrology in
Iran, having been updated by Greek astrology; nevertheless, the
archaic astrological figures of 360 degrees of the sky will continue
46 For a brief survey of inventions of Sasanian astrology, cf. D. Pingree, From

Astral Omens to Astrology (Rome, 1997), chap. 4 (pp. 39–50), and A. Pa-
naino, “Sasanian Astronomy and Astrology in the Contribution of David
Pingree,” in G. Gnoli and A. Panaino, eds., Kayd: Studies in the History
of Mathematics, Astronomy and Astrology in Memory of David Pingree
(Rome, 2009), pp. 73–103; for a more detailed study of conjunctions, cf. D.
Pingree, The Thousands of Abu Ma‘shar (London, 1968).
47 Astrological history refers to the possibility of applying horoscopy to pre-
dicting or reconstructing historical events (D. Pingree, “iii. Astrology in
Islamic Times,” in EIr, II, pp. 858–71).
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to be transmitted late in the Islamic period, in particular by Persian

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

he expressed his opinion on the use of Persian and Arabic in sci-
entific works as already mentioned in the introduction. His Row-
zat is an interesting compilation frequently disposed in the form
of tables (jadval ): He starts with hesâb‑e hendi (Indian reckon-
ing), describes calendars, the “world year,” the astrolabe, and as-
tronomical tables; nevertheless, he focuses mainly on astrological
techniques—“elections” (ekhtiyârât) and horoscopes—and adds a
general introduction to the science of astrology as well as a section
of twenty questions and answers concerning the field.53 He ends
his book with a description of constellations. Two later authors,
Sharaf-al-Din Mas’udi Bokhâri [Marvazi]54 and Mohammad b.
Mas’ud Ghaznavi55 wrote more theoretical and thus more classical
manuals, with a more limited scope.
The Lavâyeh al-qamar (Flashes of light from the Moon) of
Vâ’ez Kâshefi is an interesting example of the genre of “elections”
(ekhtiyârât), prognostication of the propitious and unpropitious
moments considering the position of the planets. Kâshefî wrote
seven treatises in this field, concerning seven planets (Sab’e-ye
Kâshefiyye), but only one, on the Moon, written in 1473, has sur-
vived.56 It is dedicated to Majd-al-Din Mohammad Khwâfi, the
vizier of Sultan Hoseyn Bâyqarâ, and the name of the dedicatee
is concealed in a short poem in the introduction; in the same in-
troduction some quotations of Qur’anic verses concerning the sky
also appear. Kâshefi compiles all previous sources on the subject of
“elections,” quotes them and lists 153 situations in which the tech-
nique of ekhtiyârât is useful: marriage, writing of testaments, trav-
eling, buying land, getting rid of illness, learning, founding cities,
starting a war, fabricating gold, … . Another example of astrology
under the Timurids is represented by the horoscope of the Timurid
53 Shahmardân, Rowzat, pp. 115–34.

54 Sharaf-al-Din Mas’udi Bokhari, Majma’ al-ahkâm, ed. A. Hasuri (Tehran,
2000).
55 Storey, PL, II/1, pp. 46–47 (no. 84).
56 Storey, PL, II/1, p. 78 (no. 116). For an old copy see E. Blochet, Catalogue
des manuscrits persans de la Bibliothèque nationale (4 vols, Paris, 1905–34),
II, pp. 149–50; this copy was made for an astrologer of Indian origin.
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PERSIAN PROSE
Eskandar-Soltân, which is famous for its illustration.57 Numerous

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

attributed to Teucros was translated from Nabatean in the 10th cen-
tury64 and was also translated into Persian in the 12th century. This
Persian translation was copied and illustrated under Shah Abbâs II
(in 1663) as Sovar‑e darajât‑e Tangeloshâ (The Images of Teucros’
Degrees). In this text, each degree contains a verbal description of
its image and also includes further prognostic comments. For in-
stance, for the 7th degree of the zodiacal sign of Jowzâ (Gemini), it
is written:
In this degree figure the idols (botân) of the sun and the moon and
both utter words of great benefit (fâyede-ye bozorg); the person born
under this degree will be of agreeable and friendly appearance …65
The series of degrees by Tomtom Hendi, were illustrated in India,
in the second half of the 16th c. in at least two different works:
a) in Nojum al-olum (Stars of Sciences) written for (or by) the Bi-
japur sultan Ali Âdel Shâh in 1570 (text known in at least three
MS copies);66 in this text the image of each degree is painted in
a medallion (toranj) and its number and the verbal description
of the image placed at the bottom of it;
b) the second work is al-Serr al-maktum fi mokhâtebât al-nojum
(The Hidden Secret on the Conversation of Stars), written in
Arabic by Fakhr-al-Din Râzi between 1179–2010 and trans-
lated into Persian in 1236 for the sultan of Delhi, Iltutmish,
and his son.
64 T. Fahd, “Ibn Waḥshiyya,” in EI2 , III, p. 964.

65 See [ps. Teucros], Tangelushâ yâ sovar‑e daraj, ed. R. Homâyunfar-
rokh (Tehran, 1978), illustrations; [ps.-Teucros], Tanklushâ az mo’allef‑e
nâshenâkhte be zamime-ye “Madkhal‑e manzum” az Abd-al-Jabbâr Kho-
jandi (sorude be sâl 616 h. q.), ed. Rezâzâde Malek (Tehran, 2004).
66 The Chester Beatty Library, Dublin, possesses two MS copies of Nojum
al-olum; cf. E. Flatt, “The Authorship and Significance of the Nujūm al-
ʿUlūm: A Sixteenth-Century Astrological Encyclopedia from Bijapur,”
JAOS 131 (2011), pp. 223–44. It was recently established that the MS Persian
373 in the Wellcome Library is Nojum al-olum; see S. Tourkin, “Astrolog-
ical Images in Two Persian Manuscripts,” in N. Allan, ed., Pearls of the
Orient: Asian Treasures from the Wellcome Library (London and Chicago,
2003), pp. 73–86.
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The degrees by Tomtom Hendi are verbally described in this

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

marized in a masterly fashion by Avicenna in his Arabic works,
al-Shefâ’ and al-Najât, as well as in his Persian Dânesh-nâme.
Theoretical chapters of physics notwithstanding, a great number
of sections pertaining to physics, in the broad sense of the term,
were on the one hand incorporated into popular cosmographies
(ajâyeb al-makhluqât). They also gave birth to a series of indepen-
dent treatises, as was the case of meteorology (âthâr‑e olvî). It is
noteworthy that the original Aristotelian corpus apparently lacked
the 4 th chapter of meteorology devoted to mineralogy. For a long
time therefore, it was the corresponding section in the Shefâ’ by
67 B. Schmitz and Z. A. Desai, Mughal and Persian Paintings and Illustrated

Manuscripts in the Raza Library, Rampur (New Delhi, 2006), pp. 20–27,
pls. 13–19.
238
Science in Persian
Avicenna that was considered in the Latin West as the genuine

work of Aristotle.68
Meteorology
This genre treats, in order, the causality of atmospheric phenomena

(rain, snow, thunder, wind, rainbow, halo of the moon, etc.); forma-
tion of mountains, rivers, springs, wells, qanâts (kâriz), earthquakes,
etc.; and also mineralogy (quicksilver, salts, ammoniac, sulphur, the
seven metals, metallic compounds, etc.). Persian treatises in the field
are written in a simple pedagogical style, apparently linked with
the practice of majles discussions: Abu-Hâtem Esfezâri’s, Resâle-ye
âthâr‑e olvi (Treatise on Meteorology),69 Omar b. Sahlân Sâva-
ji’s Resâle-ye Sanjariyye (Treatise for Sanjar), and Sharaf-al-Din
Mas’udi [Bokhâri] Marvazi’s Resâle-ye âthâr‑e olvi,70 the last cited
author having been already mentioned under astrology.
The most notable of these authors was Esfezâri, collaborator of
Omar Khayyâm at the observatory in Isfahan under Malekshâh.
He constructed, under Sanjar, the hydrostatic “balance of Archi-
medes,” which could detect alloys passing for gold, the reason for
which Sanjar’s treasurer destroyed it, out of fear. Beyhaqi says that
Esfezâri was so affected by this act that he “died of grief.” The de-
scription of his balance was incorporated in a famous book, Mizân
al-hekme (The Balance of Wisdom, 1121) by his pupil Khâzeni.71
Esfezâri’s treatise on meteorology, dating before 500/1106–7, was
written for a vizier of Sultan Barkyâroq. The books of Sâvaji and
Marvazi follow roughly the same pattern, adding very detailed de-
scriptions of the four elements, simple and compound, where they
68 Avicennae De congelatione et conglutinatione lapidum: Being Sections of

the Kitâb al-Shifâ’, the Latin and Arabic Texts, ed. and tr. E. J. Holmyard
and D. C. Mandeville (Paris, 1927).
69 Abu-Hâtem Esfezâri, Resâle-ye âthâr‑e olvi, ed. Modarres Razavi (Tehran,
1940).
70 Sâvaji’s and Marvazi’s treatises were edited in the same volume: Do resâle
dar bâre-ye âthâr‑e olvi; ed. M. T. Dâneshpazhuh (Tehran, 1958).
71 D. Pingree, “Asfezārī,” in EIr, II, pp. 748–49.
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discuss the causes of these phenomena with reference to Aristo-

tle, Avicenna, and Esfezâri. Within the framework of natural phi-
losophy, followed the “the Three Kingdoms of Nature” (mavâlid
thalâthe): minerals, plants, and animals.
Mineralogy
In the field of mineralogy, the Iranian world produced important

texts in Arabic as well as in Persian. Among the Arabic texts, first
we have the already mentioned mineralogical section in Avicenna’s
Shefâ’. Second, the major treatise in Arabic by Biruni, al-Jamâhir
al-javâher (Compendium on Precious Stones),72 written for Sultan
Mowdud of Ghazna between 432–440/1040–48. The work is com-
posed of an introduction and three parts: a detailed description,
from various aspects, of gems (with particularly long sections on
the ruby and the pearl) and stones, of minerals and metals, and
of metallic compounds. The long and extremely original introduc-
tion, which contains frequent Qur’anic quotations, poetry, and an-
ecdotes, is devoted to scientific and ethical considerations and de-
serves a study in itself. It focuses, among other things, on the value
of gems and metals, the danger that is caused by the excessive at-
tachment to them, and the way of managing the treasury according
to political events of the time. These aspects are probably the in-
visible background of all the mineralogical treatises quoted below.
Mohammad Jowhari Neyshâburi says: “Nothing in the world of
generation and corruption is more fine and noble than the gems.”73
In Persian, the treatise by Nasr b. Ya’qub Dinâvari on mineral-
ogy quoted by Biruni is lost, but there are three early extant works
of importance by Mohammad Neyshâburi, Nasir-al-Din Tusi
and Abu’l-Qâsem Kâshâni. The first is of particular significance:
72 Abu-Reyhân Biruni, Ketâb al-jamâhir fi ma’refat al-javâher, ed. Y. Hâdi

(Tehran, 1995); tr. H. M. Said as Al-Beruni’s Book on Mineralogy: The Book
Most Comprehensive on in Knowledge on Precious Stones (Islamabad, 1989).
73 Mohammad b. Abi’l-Barakât Jowhari Neyshâburi, Javâher-nâme-ye Nezâmî,
ed. I. Afshâr (Tehran, 2004), p. 74 n. 74: hich chiz dar âlam‑e kown va fesâd
nafistar va shariftar az javâher nist.
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Science in Persian
Javâher-nâme-ye Nezâmi (Nezamian Book on Gems)74 was written

in 592/1116 by Mohammad b. Abi’l-Barakât Jowhari Neyshâburi for
a vizier of the Khwârazmshâh Tekesh. The importance of this text
(whose sources are mainly Biruni, the pseudo-Lapidary of Aristotle
and khavâss literature) is manifold. As with Tusi and Kâshâni, the
main structure of the three treatises follows Biruni’s Jamâhir. But
there are also differences: The introduction, on the formation of
gems, stones, minerals, and ‘the seven metals’ (felezât‑e sab’e/haft
gâne),75 contain in Persian clearly Aristotelian concepts and vocabu-
lary. On the other hand, if the number of gems (javâher) is the same,76
the number of stones (ahjâr) is more than double compared to the
figure found in Biruni: fifty-nine gems and stones altogether in Ney-
shâburi’s treatise. Comparison of some stones and metals in our texts
shows the eventual dependence on previous models. But the import-
ant originality of the latter is found in the fact that Neyshâburi was a
jeweler and engraver (hakkâk), which makes him well informed par-
ticularly in the field of gems, on their varieties, characteristics, prices,
mines, polishing, and with special accent on their fakes (shebh‑e ân
ke be tariq‑e sanâ’at besâzand).77 He also reports several anecdotes
on contacts with rulers owing to his skill. For instance, Tekesh asked
him in 588/1192 at Sarakhs to engrave a religious formula over an em-
erald from his treasury that was engraved with the image of a figure
looking “like an idol” (methl‑e bot), but this image rather seems to
be the representation of royal iconography from Eastern Iran.78 In-
terestingly, in the same year, Neyshâburi also made an evaluation of
a red spinel (la’l) in the possession of the Ghurid Mohammad b. Sâm.
74 See n. 73.
75 Biruni quotes: quicksilver, gold, silver, copper, iron, tin, lead, khârsini
(white bronze); Neyshâburî: first sulphur and quicksilver, then gold, silver,
copper, tin, lead, iron, khârsini, âhan‑e chini (‘Chinese’ iron).
76 Biruni describes: ruby (corundum), spinel, garnet, diamond, pearl, emerald,
turquoise, chalcedony/agate; Neyshâburi uses a different order: ruby (corun-
dum), emerald, spinel, turquoise, diamond, pearl, garnet, chalcedony/agate.
77 Jowhari Neyshâburi, Javâher-nâme, p. 56.
78 F. Grenet and Z. Vesel, “Emeraude royale,” in B. Scarcia Amoretti and L.
Rostagno, eds., Yâd-Nâma: In Memoria di Alessandro Bausani II (Rome,
1991), pp. 99–115 (4 figs.). The anecdote is told in Jowhari Neyshâburi,
Javâher-nâme, pp. 114–15.
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But the most original part of Neyshâburi’s treatise is its fourth part
containing a long description of the fabrication of ceramics (minâ va
talâvihât),79 which differs from Biruni’s section on minâ as well as
from the epilogue (khâteme) on san’at‑e kâshigari in Kâshâni.
Iraj Afshâr was the first to discover that the two later treatises,
Nasir-al-Din Tusi’s Tansukh-nâme-ye Ilkhâni80 (The Ilkhanid
book of Precious offerings), probably written for Hulegu (or for
Mongke?) between 654–7/1256–9, and Abu’l-Qâsem Kâshâni’s
Arâyes al-javâher fi nafâyes al-atâyeb (The brides of jewels and the
choicest of drugs),81 written in 700/1300 for one of the viziers of
Oljâytu (Tâj-al-Din or Rashid-al-Din), were both mainly plagia-
rized from Javâher-nâme-ye Nezâmi. The name of the author is
mentioned only once by Kâshâni, even though the treatise was ap-
parently known, since he was quoted by the author of Gharâyeb al-
donyâ, Âdhari Tusi (d. 1462), in a poem.82 On the whole, Tusi’s and
Kâshâni’s treatises contain, as all later works,83 an update of the list
of stones, mines, and prices and some specific particularities, such
as separate chapters on perfumes (‘atr va atâyeb), an original chap-
ter on ceramics by Kâshâni, or the reproduction of Biruni’s table of
specific weights of gems and metals by Tusi.84 Nevertheless, Ney-
shâburi’s Javâher-nâme-ye Nezâmi must be regarded as the first
outstanding extant text on this subject in Persian.
79 Y. Porter, “Le quatrième chapître du Javâher-nâme-ye Nezâmî,” in N. Pour

javady and Z. Vesel eds., Sciences, techniques et instruments dans le monde
iranien (Xe –XIXe s.) (Tehran, 2004), pp. 341–60.
80 Nasir-al-Din Tusi, Tansuq-nâme-ye Ilkhâni, ed. Modarres Razavi (Tehran,
1969).
81 Abu’l-Qâsem Kâshâni, Arâyes al-javâher fi nafâyes al-atâyeb, ed. I. Afshâr
(Tehran, 1966).
82 Cf. I. Afshâr’s introd. to Jowhari Neyshâburi, Javâher-nâme, p. 18; “… dar
Ketâb‑e javâher‑e barakât …”
83 For information on remaining works of mineralogy in the Iranian world,
see Jowhari Neyshâburi, Javâher-nâme, Afshâr’s introd. to the edition,
pp. 37–39.
84 The famous table of specific gravity of gems and metals obtained by a hydrostatic
method is not contained in the Jamâhir—in spite of the fact that the subject of
standard weights is currently treated by Biruni in this work—because he wrote
it before Jamâhir, and it exists as an independent treatise. See Said, Al-Beruni’s
Book on Mineralogy, introd. by Baloch, p. xvi (Maqâle fi’l-nesâb …).
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Science in Persian
Botany and Zoology
Unlike zoology, which was incorporated into the Shefâ’ and com-
mented by Avicenna, there was no direct source from Aristotle
available on botany. Information on both fields is scattered in
commentaries, encyclopedias, medical and agricultural works, as
well as in lexicographical literature. The main sources for botany
were on the one hand agricultural, and on the other pharmacolog-
ical treatises, namely that of Dioscorides and separate chapters on
materia medica in medical encyclopedias. These sources will be
treated below.
In the field of zoology, sections in encyclopedias and cosmog-
raphies deal briefly with lexicography, medical and occult use, and
eventually religious prohibitions as can be seen for instance in the
zoological part of Nozhat al-qolub.85 Besides agricultural and med-
ical sources (especially illustrations in Dioscorides), the main fields
of independent zoological writings were hippology86 and ornithol-
ogy, an important part being devoted to the medical aspects. The
outstanding text in the latter field is the Bâz-nâme (The Book on
Falconry), written in 1080 by Ali Nasavi.87 As well as being a math-
ematician, Nasavi was an expert on hunting and falconry from his
early age and towards the end of his life he wrote this most complete
encyclopedia on the subject, the author having collected all possi-
ble information on various aspects, provenance and sorts of falcons,
their training, the cure of their illnesses, their use in divination, etc.;
moreover, the book is extremely rich in specialized vocabulary. It is
an example of court literature, for the falcon was closely associated
with kings, as said in the Nowruz-nâme in the chapter on falcons:
“The falcon is a companion to the king’s hunt … he possesses a mag-
nificence (heshmat) that other birds do not have … though the eagle
is larger than the falcon he does not possess such a majesty … .”88
85 J. Stephenson, The Zoological Part of Nuzhat al-Qulûb … (London, 1928).

86 N. Kariman, Asb-nâme-hâ-ye fârsi (Tehran, 2000).
87 Abu’l-Hasan Ali b. Ahmad Nasavi, Bâz-nâme, ed. A. Gharavi (Tehran,
1975); M. T. Dâneshpazhuh, “Bāz-nāma,” in EIr, IV, pp. 65–66; H. A’lam,
“Bāz,” in EIr, IV, pp. 17–20; idem, “Bāzdāri,” in EIr, IV, pp. 53–58.
88 ps.-Omar Khayyâm, Nowruz-nâme, ed. A. Hasuri (Tehran, 1978), p. 67.
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Geography
Geography in Persian was both a predecessor of geographical works

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

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

Hodud al-âlam (Limits of the World), was composed by an anon-
ymous author. From then on, most Iranian authors of geographical
works used Persian. This applies in particular to independent geo-
graphical texts and maps, and geographical chapters in historical
chronicles, cosmographies, and similar kinds of texts. As already
mentioned, astronomical works, in particular astronomical hand-
books, continued to appear in Arabic until the 13th century, when
the Zij‑e Ilkhâni, the first major work of this genre, was compiled
in Persian. The best-known geographical works written in Per-
sian since the 11th century either as self-standing texts or as chap-
ters in books on a broader range of subjects are the anonymous
Fârs-nâme (The Book on Fârs) of the 11th century, Mohammad
b. Najib Bakrân’s (d. after 1209) Jahân-nâme (The Book on the
Universe), Hamd-Allâh Mostowfi’s (d. after 1340) third part of his
Nozhat al-qolub (Delight of Hearts), and Hâfez‑e Abru’s (d. 1430)
Joghrâfiyâ, also called Târikh (History). Several other historical
works contain geographical chapters, and there are some anony-
mous geographical treatises, as well as maps, collections of tables,
and instruments with geographical data made in Iran, India, and
possibly Central Asia. In addition to newly composed geographical
works, geographical works in Persian were translated from Arabic,
among them Estakhri’s Masâlek ol-mamâlek (Routes of King-
doms), which was translated more than once, and Abu’l-Fedâ’’s
(1273–1331) Ketâb taqvim al-boldân (Book [called] the Survey of
the Countries).
Hodud al-âlam
This Persian geography is said to have been compiled in the late 10th
century, beginning in the year 982–83. Its author is unknown, but
it is thought that he might have come from the province of Guzgân.
Apart from his knowledge of this province, he apparently relied
more on literary sources than on first-hand knowledge acquired
through traveling. The work surveys the seas, islands, mountains,
rivers, and deserts of the known world and introduces the reader
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Science in Persian
to fifty lands in Asia, Europe, and Libya (its designation for the
continent of Africa). Forty-four of them are north of the equator,
five of them south of it, and one (Sudan) crossing it. Most of the
text focuses on Central Asia, in particular the part called today Af-
ghanistan. In addition to names of cities and villages, rivers, moun-
tains, and lakes, its author talks about agricultural products and
political circumstances. In addition to his home region, the author
provides information about the Muslim world at large and territo-
ries outside it such as Byzantium, Central Asia, Tibet, China, and
the lands of Slavonic and Turkic tribes. Although he does not name
his sources, it is believed that he relied on older and contemporary
Arabic as well as Turkic written or even oral information. Due to
its succinct but early New Persian language, Hodud al-âlam is still
today considered an important source for the transition from Mid-
dle to New Persian.91
Fârs-nâme
It is believed that this local history and geography of the province

Fârs was written by an otherwise unknown writer (usually called
Ebn-al-Balkhi as supposedly his ancestors originated from Balkh),
who lived in the 11th and early 12th century and whose grandfather
may have been a chief accountant for taxes in this province. Travel-
ing with him provided the grandson with first-hand experience of
the territory of the province. Nonetheless, about two-thirds of the
book is devoted to history, mostly in mythical garb. The remain-
der, which discusses the districts of the province, includes much
historical material, but of more recent times and thus less legend-
ary. In addition, the anonymous author provides material about
tribes living in the province as well as about revenues.92
The short geographical discourse about Fârs appears at the end
of the book. It starts with an explanation of the elements needed for
91 Hodud al-âlam men al-Mashreq elâ’l-Maghreb, ed. M. Sotude (Tehran,

1983); tr. V. Minorsky as Hudud al-‘ âlam: The Regions of the World (Lon-
don, 1937); C. E. Bosworth, “Ḥodūd al-ʿālam,” in EIr XII, pp. 417–18.
92 C. E. Bosworth, “Ebn-al-Balkī,” in EIr VIII, p. 4.
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PERSIAN PROSE
visualizing it in a sketch. These elements are the corners explained

as angles and the borderlines identified as the circumference of a
quadrilateral.93 The four corners or cardinal directions are iden-
tified with Isfahan, Kerman, Khuzestan, and Badri. Next comes
a list of the five districts of Fârs: Estakhr, Dârâbgerd, Ardashir,
Shâpur, and Qobâd. Each of the districts is determined in multiples
of the Iranian linear measure farsakh and the number of cities and
smaller units it contains. Then these subunits are named and de-
scribed in terms of historical data, climate, water, and other natural
conditions, as well as their produce.94 Further standard elements
of geographical works follow afterwards, among them islands, riv-
ers, seas and lakes, fortresses, routes, and tribes or other groups of
population, to which prairies and deserts plus revenues are added.95
Jahân-nâme
The Jahân-nâme (ca. 605/1208) of Mohammad b. Najib Bakrân

consists of twenty parts and describes a world map that he, accord-
ing to the first chapters of his text, produced for the Khwârazmshâh
Alâ’-al-Din Mohammad b. Tekesh. In these twenty chapters, the
author explains basic technicalities of mapmaking including the
colors attributed to different geographical objects and distances be-
tween localities followed by the then more or less standard sequence
of geographical topics: seas, lakes, islands, rivers, mountains, des-
erts, cities, people, particular properties of and miraculous appear-
ances in some localities, jewels and mines, localities where Arabs
live, and stories about some places.96 In the introduction, Ebn-Na-
jib Bakrân mentions a few sources on which he had relied. Some
of them had been written in Persian such as the Ashkâl‑e aqâlim
(Contours of Climes) by the not well-known author Mohammad b.
93 Ebn-al-Balkhi, Fârs-nâme, ed. by G. Le Strange and R. A. Nicholson as

Fársnáma (London, 1921), pp. 120–21.
94 Ebn-al-Balkhi, Fârs-nâme, pp. 121–48.
95 Ebn-al-Balkhi, Fârs-nâme, pp. 150–72.
96 Mohammad Ebn-Najib Bakrân, Jahân-nâme, ed. M. Amin Riyâhi (Tehran,
1963), pp. 4–5.
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Science in Persian
Bahr al-Rahabi and the Safar-nâme (The Book of Travels) of Nâs-

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

family of high-ranking civil servants of the Abbasid caliphate
and its Ilkhanid successors, wrote his Nozhat al-qolub in the
97 Ebn-Najib Bakrân, Jahân-nâme, p. 7.

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last years of Ilkhanid rule in Iran. The geographical part of his

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

geographical part of his book the vast experience of his family
and himself as high-ranking financial officers of the Abbasid and
Ilkhanid administrations. His data about revenues are praised in
modern research for their impressive display of detail.101
Mostowfi did not follow the more widespread structure of
geographical works like the one by Ebn-Najib Bakrân, but com-
bined the Mecca-centered approach of the Sovar al-aqâlim and
Ebn-Khordâdhbeh’s Ketâb al-mamâlek va’l-masâlek with his
interest in delineating Iran within in the larger Muslim world as
an independent territory, clearly marked by latitude and longitude
boundaries. Most of his text deals with the localities that cover this
territory, their histories, people, and produce. In a few instances,
he reports about the languages (Middle Persian, Iranian dialects,
Turkic, Arabic dialects) spoken by the inhabitants of specific places.
The above precedes his survey on seas, lakes, rivers, mountains,
cities outside of Iran and even outside the Muslim world, as well
as marvelous things. The frame of his presentation of Iran is pro-
vided by mathematical geography in terms of latitudinal and lon-
gitudinal degrees and the theory of the seven climes to which de-
scriptions of roads and distances between places in terms of travel
units are added. Here, he sometimes refers to Ptolemy and Biruni.102
Many poems in Arabic and Persian, including some of Mostowfi’s
own quatrains, intersperse the various enumerations of names and
numbers in addition to little bits and pieces of stories about proph-
ets, rulers, saints, and the occasional ordinary person.103
Mostowfi’s Persian is more complex and thanks to the poetry
at times more elegant than that of Ebn-Najib Bakrân. But it is
also mixed with a deliberate amount of Arabic, either as complete
quotes from Mostowfi’s sources or as phrases and single words.
Sometimes, Mostowfi also uses explicitly Mongol words.104
101 Ch. Melville, “Ḥamd-Allāh Mostawfi,” in EIr, XI, pp. 631–64.

102 Hamd-Allâh Mostawfi Qazvini, Nozhat al-qolub, ed. G. Le Strange as The
Geographical Part of the Nuzhat al-qulūb Composed by Hamd-Allah Mus-
tawfī of Qazwīn in 740 (1340) (Leiden and London, 1915), pp. 10, 20–21.
103 Qazvini, Nozhat al-qolub, pp. 12, 17, 19, 27, 29, 47, 49–50, 78 and passim.
104 Qazvini, Nozhat al-qolub, pp. 257, 261.
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Joghrâfiyâ
Hâfez‑e Abru came, like Hamd-Allâh Mostowfi, from a family of

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

Central Asia and its Adjacent Regions,” Journal of Asian History 49 (2015),
pp. 53–68.
106 I. I. Kratchkovskiĭ, Izbrannye sochineniya (6 vols., Moscow, 1955–1960), IV,
p. 51.
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Science in Persian
prose is more similar to that of Ebn-Najib Bakrân and contains less

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

written in Arabic—by Ali Ebn-al-Abbâs Majusi (10th c.), Abu-Bakr
Mohammmad Ebn-Zakariyâ’ Râzi (Rhazes, d. ca. 925) and Ebn-Sinâ
(Avicenna, d. 1037). They were translated into Latin and have exerted
a lasting influence in the Islamic world and in the West. The most
popular was Avicenna’s al-Qânun fi’l-tebb (The Canon of Medicine),
which provided a synthesis of Galenic medicine, composed of:
1. The constitutional basis of medicine: definition of medicine, el-
ements, temperament, humors, organs (bones, muscles, nerves,
arteries, veins), faculties and functions;
107 Shehâb-al-Din Abd-Allâh Khwâfî Hâfez Abru, Joghrâfiyâ-ye Hâfez‑e Abru,

ed. S. Sajjâdi (3 vols., Tehran, 1997–99).
108 Osmanlı Coḡrafya Literatürü Tarihi, vol. I (Istanbul, 2000), pp. 14–17;
Kratchkovskiĭ, Izbrannye sochineniya, IV, pp. 522–27; Ali-Akbar Khetâ’i,
Khetâ’i-nâme, ed. I. Afshâr (Tehran, 1979).
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2. Health and disease;

3. Preservation of health;
4. Treatment of disease.109
The most significant medical manual in Persian was written by an
exceptional physician, Esmâ’il Gorgâni (Jorjâni). He wrote his
voluminous Dhakhire-ye Khwârazmshâhi (The Treasure for the
Khwârazmshâh) in 1110 for Qotb-al-Din Mohammad, of the last
dynasty of the Khwârazmshâhs. It contains ten chapters:
1. Anatomy and physiology;
2. Symptoms of illnesses;
3. Hygiene of the body;
4. Diagnostic and prognosis;
5. Fevers;
6. Illnesses of digestion and internal organs (examining the whole
body: from head to foot);
7. Pathological conditions in the body (tumors, wounds);
8. Aesthetics and care of the body;
9. Toxicology of animal, vegetable and mineral poisons;
10. Pharmacopeia.110
The author says in the introduction that he composed his book to
answer questions that interested the ruler and which the court sci-
entists were unable to answer. Jorjâni also inserted in his encyclo-
pedia a passage of questions and answers in the field of physiology,
probably with the same intention.111
109 Mazhar H. Shah, The General Principles of Avicenna’s Canon of Medicine

(Karachi, 1966).
110 Esmâ’il Jorjâni, Dhakhire-ye Khwârazmshâhi; in spite of its importance,
there is no critical edition of the integral text. The first two volumes were
edited by I. Afshâr and M. T. Dâneshpazhuh (Tehran, 1965 and 1972); the
first three volumes by J. Mostafavi (Tehran, 1965, with the collaboration of
E. Shâhdâd, 1971, 1974, and 1977); the only complete text is the facsimile
of a MS dated 1206 CE, published by S. Sirjâni (Tehran, 1976); see also B.
Thierry de Crussol des Epesse, “The Medical System of Later Galenism
in Medieval Iran” and “Ismâ’il Gurgânî” in Z. Vesel et al., eds., Images,
pp. 229 and 231, ill. 192.
111 Esmâ’il Jorjâni, Dhakhire-ye Khwârazmshâhi, ed. Afshâr and Dânesh-
pazhuh, pp. 184 sqq.
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Science in Persian
Beside several other medical works, Jorjâni wrote two sum-

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

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

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

They also appeared in independent treatises from the outset. The
contents of the genre consisted in description of simple and com-
posite drugs, classified in alphabetical order, providing the descrip-
tion of their botanical and medical proprieties and their names in
various languages.
Al-Abniye an haqâyeq al-adviye (Fundamentals on the True
Nature of Pharmacology) of Abu-Mansur Haravi has already been
mentioned above for the significance of its early date of redaction
(ca. 975), the date of its extant manuscript (1056, i. e. the oldest sur-
viving manuscript in Persian), as well as the fact that its scribe was
the famous poet Asadi Tusi. The description of 584 drugs draws on
Islamic, Byzantine, and Indian traditions.119
117 Mansur b. Mohammad b. Ahmad Shirâzi, Tashrih‑e badan‑e ensân ma’ruf
be “Tashrih‑e Mansuri,” ed. H. Burqa’i (Tehran, 2004).
118 See A. Newman, “Anatomy,” in Z. Vesel et al., eds, Images, pp. 232–35, il-
lustrations 194–215 (captions by E. Savage-Smith).
119 See n. 7.
256
Science in Persian
Abu-Reyhân Biruni has already been mentioned in the context

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

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

the pre-Islamic period. The Varz-nâme dating from the Samanid
period (10th century) and no longer extant, contained passages from
Kassianus Bassus (6th century). The contents of the Persian treatises
that followed consist of basic chapters on soil, calendar, meteorology,
126 Mohammad Hoseyn Aqili Khorâsâni, Qârâbâdin‑e kabir [including

Makhzân al-adviye] (lithograph, 2 vols., Cawnpore, 1912); Storey, PL, II/2,
pp. 280–83 (no. 492).
127 H. A’lam, “Dioscorides in the Lands of the Eastern Caliphate,” in Z. Vesel
et al., eds, Images, pp. 244–57, illustrations. 216–68.
258
Science in Persian
cultivated alimentary plants, trees (namely fruit trees and vine), flow-
ers, various domestic technics and animals relevant to agriculture.
There are at least two texts that are directly linked to general poli-
tics to give a particular support to agriculture. The first one, from
Ilkhanid period, is Âthâr va ehyâ’ (Remains and their Rejuvenation)
attributed to Rashid-al-Din Fazl-Allâh.128 The text was contempo-
rary with the enterprise of Rob’‑e Rashidi in Tabriz where Chinese
scholars and scientists collaborated. Besides some of the usual basic
chapters, the work—which is incomplete—contains a description of
a large number of Chinese and Indian trees. The second text, from
the Timurid period is Ershâd al-zerâ’e (Guidance of Agriculture)
written in 1515 in Herat by Qâsem b. Yusof Abu-Nasr Haravi129, an
important member of the administration of Timurid agronomy and
hydrology.130 Ershâd, dedicated to the first Safavid ruler Shah Es-
mâ’il, has a long literary introduction with numerous verses, where
the author develops the praise of agriculture. The chapters treat in
order: 1) the soil; 2) the calendar; 3) leguminous plants, cereals and
other graminaceae; 4) the vine tree; 5) vegetables, fragrant herbs,
plants used for dyeing); 6) plantation of trees and flowers; 7) graft-
ing of trees and vine, domestic technics, apiculture; the treatise is
horticulturally noteworthy for its last chapter 8) which describes, in
prose interspersed with verses, the construction of the “quadripar-
tite garden” (chahâr-bâgh). It is a specific architectural concept of the
walled garden in four parts (terraces), with a central water channel
and a pavilion on the platform with a pool in front of it. The planting
of trees and flowers follows a specific repertory.
Qâsem b. Yusof Haravi was also the author of a Persian trea-
tise on the hydronomy of Herat, i. e. the distribution of irrigation
waters: Tariq‑e qesmat‑e âb‑e qolb.131 Apparently, the treatise on
128 Rashid-al-Din Fazl-Allâh Hamadâni, Âthâr va ehyâ’, eds. M. Sotude and I.

Afshâr (Tehran, 1989).
129 Qâsem b. Yusof Abu-Nasr Haravi, Ershâd al-zerâ’e, ed. M. Moshiri (repr.,
Tehran, 1979).
130 The context of the work was studied in detail in M. E. Subtelny, Le monde
est un jardin : Aspects de l’histoire culturelle de l’Iran médiéval (Paris, 2002).
131 Qâsem b. Yusof Abu-Nasr Haravi, Resâle-ye tariq‑e qesmat‑e âb‑e qolb,
ed. R. Mâyel-Haravi (Tehran, 1968).
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PERSIAN PROSE
qanâts, Ketâb enbât al-miyâh al-khafiyye (the Book on the Ex-

ploitation of Underground Waters), composed by Mohammad
Karaji in 1017 in Arabic under the Buyids in Isfahan, was not trans-
lated into Persian.
There were several additional treatises on agriculture writ-
ten in the following centuries, and two of them are particularly
important for the richness of their contents. The first one was
compiled in India under Aurangzeb (1659–1707): the Farhang‑e
ajâyeb al-haqâyeq‑e Owrangshâhi (The Dictionary of Wonders
for Aurangzeb) by Hedâyat-Allâh b. Mohammad Mohsen Ja’fari.
It is preserved in an illustrated copy of 600 folios,132 large in scope
of the subjects treated; plants and animals are described under
various aspects—medicine, agriculture, lexicography—with refer-
ence to Persian sources and Indian practice (among others for api-
culture and sericulture). Ershâd al-zerâ’e is quoted several times,
including the description of the chahâr-bâgh that is reproduced
there. M. Subtelny had drawn attention to the fact that Ershâd
was in the possession of Aurangzeb and that the description of
the chahâr bâgh might have influenced the construction of the
Taj Mahal.133
The second important text, the Mafâtih al-arzâq (The Keys to
Provisions), was written by the intendent (mostowfi) Mohammad
Yusof Nuri in the Qajar period under Farhâd Mirzâ in Shiraz. It
is a compilation from nearly a hundred sources in Arabic and Per-
sian and treats of cultivated plants, horticulture, arboriculture and
animals in agriculture and domestic economy. Besides, this Shi’ite
encyclopedia contains information on taxes, accounting, irrigation,
conservation of food, medical and occult proprieties of plants, reli-
gious calendar, poems, and proverbs.134
132 Storey, Persian Literature, II/3, p. 443 (no. 770); Asiatic Society of Bengal,
Calcutta, MS D 254 (unicum).
133 Subtelny, Le monde est un jardin, p. 121.
134 Mohammad Yusof Nuri, Mafâtih al-arzâq yâ kelid dar ganjhâ-ye gowhar,
ed. H. Sâ’edlu, with the collaboration of M. Qommi-Nejâd (3 vols., Tehran,
2002–4).
260
Science in Persian
7. Conclusion
The great majority of Persian scientific texts were intended for a

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

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

of a MS dated 647 h/1250 ad, Aya Sofya Library, Istanbul).
262
Science in Persian
Bent-al-Hasan, who probably lived in Ghazna, or by the excep-

tional illustrated copy of the Persian translation by Abd-al-Hâdi
for Ghâzân Khân executed at Marâghe circa 1300 of Ebn-Bakht-
ishu’s Manâfe’ al-hayavân (Benefits of Animals) for a certain
Shams-al-Din Zoshki.137
Science enriched general culture and was present on different
levels of literature, such as its use as metaphors in poetry138 and
“astrological romance.” Be it in prose or poetry, the latter is the ro-
mance based on astrological symbolism that is used in one way or
another to convey a specific message such as, for example, Nezâmi’s
Haft Peykar (The Seven Portraits) or the anonymous Noh Manzar
(The Nine Belvederes).139
Scientific texts on various topics were also composed in verse
in both Arabic and Persian, particularly in medicine and astrology.
Examples in Persian include Meysari’s medical poem,140 which is by
its early date (980) anterior to Orjuzâ fi’l-tebb (The Poem on Med-
icine) in Arabic of Avicenna; Khojandi’s general poem on astrol-
ogy; and Tusi’s poem on “elections” (ekhtiyârât), Masir al-qamar
(The Course of the Moon).141 Sufi’s “Book of the Constellations”
appears to have been versified only in Arabic. The versification had
mnemotechnic value but probably also allowed the general public
to feel more familiar with scientific matters and could as such be
presented as a gift at the court.
Scientific vocabulary was present in literature, including in early
dictionaries, and could also be represented under simultaneously
versified and illustrated form, as in the twenty-ninth chapter of
137 For a page from this copy, see Z. Vesel et al., eds., Images, p. 218, illustration
183.
138 See for instance, A. F. Mosaffâ, Farhang‑e estelâhât‑e nojumi (Tehran, 2009);
Ghaznavi, Seyr‑e akhtarân; A. L. F. A. Beelaert, A Cure for the Grieving:
Studies on the Poetry of the 12th-Century Persian Court Poet Khāqāni Šir-
wānī (Leiden, 2000), chap. 5, “Medical Imagery in the Description of the
Seasons.”
139 F. Richard, Catalogue des manuscrits persans I: Ancien fonds (Paris, 1989),
p. 372; see also Z. Vesel et al., eds., Images, pp. 160–61, illustration 115.
140 See n. 8.
141 Cf. ps.-Teucros, Tankelushâ, pp. 162–66 (Tusi) and pp. 168–212 (Khojandi).
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PERSIAN PROSE
Badr-al-Din Jâjarmi’s anthologie Mu’nes al-ahrâr.142 Numerous

apocryphal treatises in Persian include those of Avicenna where
only Rag-shenâsi seems to be authentic; the only Persian prose
treatise ascribed to Khayyâm, Nowruz-nâme, is apocryphal;143 as
for several attributions to Nasir-al-Din Tusi, they still need to be
studied. The biography of scholars, Tatemme Sevân al-hekme by
Zahir-al-Din Beyhaqi [Ebn-Fondoq] (12th century), was translated
into Persian by Monshi Yazdi under the title of Dorrat al-akhbâr
(Pearls of Information)144 in the beginning of the 14th century. At
the end of Dorrat, Monshi adds a “complement” (takmele) contain-
ing the entries on four authors: Shehâb-al-Din Sohravardi (al-ma-
qtul),145 Fakhr-al-Din Râzi, Nasir-al-Din Tusi, and Rashid-al-Din
Fazl-Allâh. Another example of scientific para-literature are two
letters that Jamshid Kâshi wrote to his father when working at the
Samarqand observatory. They include detailed descriptions of the
instruments used, in addition to praise of Ulugh Beg’s scientific
skill and the description of his own success at the observatory146.
In conclusion, it can be said that nearly all scientific fields
treated in Arabic have a counterpart, in one way or another, in
Persian. Considering the fact that a great number of texts were lost
throughout history, it can be surmised that this symmetry was even
more complete than what is known today through extant texts and
citations in early bibliographies. The originality of Persian texts,
142 See the contributions of S. Carboni and A. H. Morton in S. Carboni and

T. M. Swietochowski, eds., Illustrated Poetry and Epic Images: Persian
Painting of the 1330 s and 1340 s (New York, 1994).
143 F. de Blois, in PL, V/2, p. 359; it was alleged that Nowruz-nâme was written
to revive the support for the Isfahan observatory, which ceased after Malek-
shâh’s death.
144 Nâser-al-Din Monshi Yazdi, Dorrat al-akhbâr va lama’ ât al-anvâr (Teh-
ran, 1939), takmele, pp. 103–110.
145 Monshi Yazdi, Dorrat al-akhbâr, p. 103: qatîl in the Persian text.
146 Cf. E. S. Kennedy, “A Letter of Jamshīd al-Kāshī to His Father: Scientific
Research and Personalities at a Fifteenth Century Court,” Orientalia, n. s.
29/2 (1960), pp. 191–213; M. Bagheri, “A Newly Found Letter of al-Kāshī
on Scientific Life in Samarkand,” Historia Mathematica 24 (1997), pp. 241–
256; for the edition of Persian text of both letters, see M. Bâgheri, ed., Az
Samarqand be Kâshân: nâme-hâ-ye Ghiyâth-al-Din Jamshid Kâshâni be
pedar-ash (Tehran, 1996).
264
Science in Persian
when compared to those in Arabic, is not frequent, but when it

does occur it reaches the same level of importance as the Arabic
works. This importance can be of strictly scientific value as in the
first versions in Persian by Tusi of his planetary model, the “Tusi
Couple,” later presented in his Tadhkere fi elm al-hay’e (1261) in
Arabic. Astronomical tables calculated at the Marâghe and Samar-
qand observatories were first written in Persian and then translated
into Arabic, Turkish, and Latin, and the latter also in Sanskrit. In
the field of medicine, the original contributions have started to be
investigated for Iran147 as well as for India,148 and this should pro-
gressively be done for all scientific fields. On the other hand, the
original illustrations that are not found in Arabic texts, such as
the medical anatomies of Ebn-Elyâs and the degrees in astrological
literature, bring an important complement to the existing Arabic
works. Several authors wrote in Arabic as well as in Persian, and
their Persian works can provide additional material on some pre-
cise points in their Arabic work. When authors write exclusively in
Persian they nevertheless know Arabic and constantly update their
knowledge. Also Persian translations of Arabic works supplement
the original text when it is partly or integrally lost. Finally, Per-
sian as a language of science served in particular contexts through
Iranian history for translation of Chinese sciences in the Ilkhanid
period, and Indian sciences from Sanskrit texts in the framework
of Mughal India.
The introductions in Persian scientific texts, some of which have
literary value and are pleasant to read, often contain information
on the context of the work and historical anecdotes. Sometimes
the Persian texts can also be of great help in our understanding
of the way scientific activities were perceived by the rulers. In the
147 See in particular the publications of Bertrand Thierry de Crussol des

Epesse: for example, Discours sur l’oeil d’Esmāʿīl Gorgānī (Tehran, 1998);
La Psychiatrie médiévale persane: la maladie mentale dans la tradition me-
dicale persane (Paris, 2010).
148 See the publications of Fabrizio Speziale: for example, Soufisme, religion et
médecine en Islam indien (Paris, 2010); see also the website “Perso-Indica:
An Analytical Survey of Persian Works on Indian Learned Traditions,”
www.perso-indica.net.
265
PERSIAN PROSE
introduction to an apocryphal work of Avicenna, Qorâze-ye ta-

bi’iyyât (Fragmentary pieces of Physics) written in 1121,149 a series
of questions and answers on problemata physica, the author says:
emirs and kings strive to capture cities and conquer countries… and
obtain treasures… but the great emir [i. e., the dedicatee] has besides
this aim a higher one: he desires to obtain sciences of all sorts in the
world …and apply his judgment to choose the best of them…thus he
obtains happiness in both worlds.150
In spite of the variety of writings mentioned above, we have rela-
tively little historical information on science in Iran. In this regard,
the scientific texts themselves, Arabic and Persian, are important
sources of information on the perennial interest in science in the
Iranian world. This permanence is attested, at least, by the contin-
uous copying of the major scientific reference texts till the 19th cen-
tury. As for the larger spectrum of scientific activities that required
material support, they depended throughout Iranian history on
the fluctuations of political events.
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273
CHAPTER 5
CALLIGRAPHY
Francis Richard
Calligraphy is one of the most prestigious arts in the Iranian world,

receiving its high status in the context of the production of man-
uscripts of the Qur’an as well as other books or in other arts be-
longing to the field of epigraphy.1 In order to master the art of cal-
ligraphy, a period of study with a master of the art is a prerequisite
of a craft that is both an art and a science and has therefore its own
precise and complex rules. To write is an art but also a science. A
number of brief manuals intended for the teaching of calligraphy
have come down to us, often couched in a simple style. Other trea-
tises aim to establish the rules of this rich “science of letters” or
have a literary or esoteric aim of their own.
Whether in prose or in verse, the works concerned with other
particular aspects of the arts of the book are also noteworthy. As
examples one could mention the Jowhariyye (Essences) of Simi
Neyshâburi about inks, the poem Golzâr‑e safâ (The Rose Garden
of Purity) of Abd-Allâh Seyrafi on the production of colors, or the
very interesting Qânun al-sovar (The Canon of Forms) of Sâdeqi
Beyg Afshâr, a treatise on painting by one of the members of the
royal atelier of the Safavids before the accession of Shah Abbâs I.
Although at times difficult to interpret, these texts often offer in-
valuable pieces of information.
Certain famous calligraphers, often among who introduced re-
forms in the practices of writing, composed treatises on the art of
writing. The oldest example of this type of treatises in Persian lit-
erature is the chapter on writing in Râhat al-sodur (Solace of the
1 Sheila S. Blair, Islamic Calligraphy (Edinburgh, 2006).
274
Calligraphy
Hearts) of Mohammad b. Ali b. Soleymân Râvandi, composed

around 1204–5 and dedicated to Key Khosrow, sultan of Rum. In
this work, calligraphy is described and analyzed as a veritable sci-
ence, according to which the modules of the letters, their drawing
and their use follow very precise rules.
Later, after the death of one of the great reformers of calligraphy
the Arab Ebn-Moqle (died c. 940), Yâqut Mosta’semi (died around
1297), a theorist as well as a master of calligraphy who mostly wrote
in Arabic, was to influence the whole Iranian world—although we
don’t know of any treatise that could be attributed to him. On
the other hand, some years after the disappearance in 1394 of Fa-
zl-Allâh Astarâbâdi, the founder of Hurufism, a doctrine that gave
letters a religious value, we can note the composition of a prose
work of great importance that resumes certain elements of treatises
written in Arabic in Mamluk Egypt. This work, the Tohfat al-mo-
hebbin (The Gift of the Lovers) is characterized by great original-
ity and shows the strong influence of Sufism. It was written in an
elegantly poetic style by Ya’qub b. Hasan Serâj-Shirâzi, a callig-
rapher in Shiraz, who was active in the service of Sultan Ebrâhim
before he left for the Deccan, where he edited his book in 1454 at
the court of the sultan of Bidar.2
The Tohfat al-mohebbin is the second Persian treatise on callig-
raphy. The author is clearly placing himself in a Sufi milieu, and,
without neglecting the description of techniques, he emphasizes
quite strongly the aesthetic and spiritual aspects of the art of writ-
ing. Writing in Bidar for Amirzâde Mohebb-Allâh, a descendant of
Ne’mat-Allâh, he himself belongs to the mystical lineage of Ruz-
behân Baqli of Shiraz. His style bears the mark of the treatises of
his mystical masters, but at the same time his work is a veritable
encyclopedia of the art of writing, the most noble of all. He was
well acquainted with the Arabic tracts, especially that of Ahmad b.
Ali Qalqashandi (d. 1418). His work is interspersed with numerous
quotations in Arabic; he also includes plentiful poetic quotations,
2 Ya’qub b. Hasan Serâj-Shirâzi, Tohfat al-mohebbin, ed. Mohammad-Taqi
Dâneshpazhuh with K. Ra’nâ-Hoseyni and Iraj Afshar (Tehran, 1997). See
also Carl W. Ernst, “Sirāj al-Shīrāzī’s Tuḥfat al-Muḥibbīn (1454),” JAOS
129 (2009), pp. 431–42.
275
PERSIAN PROSE
in Arabic as well as Persian. He very often quotes verses by Qâsem

Anvâr and Hâfez, thereby underlining his links with the literary
milieu of Shiraz, his own home-town. Besides this omnipresent
mystical vision of the world and his references to previous authori-
ties such as Ebn-Moqle, one should also note the stylistic virtuosity
of Serâj, an author of immense erudition, who attests to the close
links between calligraphy and esoteric speculation. However, in
spite of its scientific and literary importance, his work seems to
have had few successors.
Of quite a different character is the most celebrated of the Per-
sian treatises on calligraphy, the Golestân‑e honar (The Rose Gar-
den of Art) by Qâdi Mir Ahmad Monshi Qomi edited around 16063
(translated into English by Vladimir Minorsky4; edited in Persian,
by Ahmad Soheyli Khwânsâri5). In this elegantly composed work,
in lieu of a theory of calligraphy, we find a history of the genera-
tions of calligraphers who had practiced the various styles of writ-
ing, particularly since the beginning of the Timurid era, and not a
theory of calligraphy.
Furthermore, in his monumental work on Persian texts ded-
icated to the arts of the book, Ketâb-ârâyi dar tamaddon‑e Es-
lâmi: majmu’e-ye rasâ’el dar zamine-ye khôshnevisi, morakk-
ab-sâzi, kâghaz-geri, tadhhib, va tajlid; be-enzemâm‑e farhang‑e
vâzhegân‑e nezâm‑e ketâb-ârâyi (The Adorned Book in Islamic
Culture: a collection of treatises in the field of calligraphy, pro-
duction of ink, paper-making, gilding. and book-binding, together
with a dictionary of terms belonging to the adornment of books),6
Najib Mâyel-Haravi has published numerous small treatises in
verse as well as prose. Among these, one may call attention to the
short poem Serât al-sodur (The Road of Hearts) by Soltân-Ali
Mashhadi, dating from 920/1514, of which there are many copies,
and where this celebrated calligrapher and prominent leader of the
school of nasta’liq in Khorasan in the end of his life summarizes
3 See also Yves Porter, “Notes sur le ‘Golestân‑e Honar’ de Qâzi Ahmad
Qomi,” Studia Iranica 17/2 (1988), pp. 207–23.
4 Calligraphers and Painters: A Treatise, Washington, D. C., 1959.
5 Tehran, 1973.
6 Mashhad, 1993.
276
Calligraphy
all the stages of the art of writing. Another celebrated calligrapher,

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

and tr., A Century of Princes: Sources on Timurid History of Art, Cam-
bridge, Mass., 1989, pp. 335–49.
277
PERSIAN PROSE
in which he, around 1857, proposed a radical reform of the alpha-

bet,8 as opposed to works that reiterated the classical rules. The
technical character of the latter prevented them from enjoying a
wide circulation—in contrast to the success that met the Golestân‑e
honar, in which the aridity of the treatise may be forgiven thanks
to a series of biographies nurtured by very vivid anecdotes.
Bibliography
Âkhundzâde, Mirzâ Fatḥ-ʿAli. Alefbâ-ye jadid barâ-ye taḥrirât‑e

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

sitaire des langues et civilisations (Paris), which is an autograph entitled
Alefbâ‑ye jadid barâ-ye taḥrirât‑e alsene-ye Eslâmiyye ke ebârat az Arabi
va Fârsi va Torki, a dispatch to the French government.
278
CHAPTER 6
CONSIDERATIONS ON
LITERARY ASPECTS OF PERSIAN
HISTORIOGRAPHY
Bert Fragner
1. Historiography, Narration, and Literature
From the perspective of Iranian critics and commentators in the

20th century, texts of historiographical writing, i. e. mainly chron-
icles, were in many cases at least as clearly perceived as something
like belles-lettres as they were taken as sources for historical re-
search in a narrower sense. We owe this point-of-view above all
to the major contribution to our knowledge of developments in
early modern Persian literature to Mohammad-Taqi Bahâr Malek-
al-Sho’arâ (1886–1951) and his extensive study, Sabk-shenâsi yâ
târikh‑e tatavvor‑e nathr‑e Fârsi (Stylistics or the history of the
evolution of Persian prose),1 stressing the importance of historical
writing in the context of Persian prose literature in general. One
should note that even before Bahâr some scholars had also tended
to evaluate chronicles as literary productions. In the Grundriss der
Iranischen Philologie, Carl Hermann Ethé (1844–1917) provided an
excellent overview of tadhkere texts (short biographies and sample
verses of poets) as sources for a history of Persian literature (mainly
poetry), but chronicles were not systematically included.2 Edward
1 M.-T. Bahâr, Sabk-shenâsi yâ târikh-e tatavvor-e nathr-e Fârsi (3 vols.,

Tehran, 1942).
2 Herrmann Ethé, “Neupersische Literatur,” in W. Geiger and E. Kuhn,
eds., Grundriss der Iranischen Philologie (2 vols., Strassburg, 1896–1904), I,
pp. 212–368.
279
PERSIAN PROSE
Granville Browne (1862–1926) broadened his monumental study of

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

4 Jan Rypka, Dĕjiny perské a tadžikské literatury (Prague 1956); Iranische
Literaturgeschichte (Leipzig, 1959); HIL.
5 Bo Utas, “‘Genres’ in Persian Literature 900–1900,” in Gunilla Lind-
berg-Wada, ed., Literary History: Towards a Global Perspective II: Literary
Genres: An Intercultural Approach (Berlin, 2006), pp. 199–241.
280
LITERARY ASPECTS OF PERSIAN HISTORIOGRAPHY
history. In this context and in the specific case of Persian historical

writing—chronicles in particular—we are deeply indebted to the
work of two scholars: Marilyn Robinson Waldman (1943–96)6 and
Julie Scott Meisami.7 Within Iran, later scholars followed Bahâr’s
line, which was generally interpreted in the sense that chronicles
could be evaluated as literary productions, as well as sifted through
for factual historical details.8 Specialists in literature should treat
them as literature, and historians should cite them as sources.
With the turmoil of post-modernism, this double perspective lost
ground to a more subtle fusion. Marilyn Waldman was one of the
first to apply methods borrowed from “New Historicism,” includ-
ing a literary approach, rather than from conventional concepts of
history proper. She is quite explicit about her borrowed methodol-
ogy in her earlier chapters, including using the Speech Act Theory
of J. L. Austen (1911–1960) as adopted by Mary Louise Pratt.9 She
analyzed Abu’l-Fazl Beyhaqi’s famous historical narrative (1030–
41) in depth, offering new insights. Implicitly, she followed general
tendencies that had been presented by, among others, the historian
Hayden White (1928–2018) in his seminal text Tropics of Discourse:
Essays in Cultural Criticism,10 together with other of his writings.
6 Marilyn Robinson Waldman, Toward a Theory of Historical Narrative: A
Case-Study in Perso-Islamicate Historiography (Columbus, Ohio, 1980).
7 Julie Scott Meisami. “Rulers and the Writers of History,” in Beatrice Gru-
endler and Louise Marlow, eds., Writers and Rulers: Perspectives on their
Relationship from Abbasid to Safavid Times (Wiesbaden, 2004), pp. 73–95;
Julie Scott Meisami, “History as Literature,” IrSt 33 (2000), pp. 15–30. See
also the bibliography.
8 The locus classicus concerning Iranian scholars and specialists in Persian
literature is Dhabih-Allâh Safâ, TADI.
9 Mary Louise Pratt, Towards a Speech Act Theory of Literary Discourse,
Bloomington, 1977. For a discussion of Waldman’s use of Speech Act The-
ory, see also Peter Hardy’s review in History and Theory 20/3 (Oct., 1981),
pp. 334–44.
10 Baltimore, 1978. Compare the well-chosen title of the German transla-
tion of Hayden White’s Tropics of Discourse: Reinhart Koselleck, tr., Auch
Klio dichtet oder die Fiktion des Faktischen (Stuttgart, 1986). See also the
exchanges between Marilyn Waldman, “The Otherwise Un-noteworthy
Year 711: A Reply to Hayden White,” Critical Inquiry 7/4 (Summer, 1981),
pp. 784–92, and Hayden White, “The Narrativization of Real Events Au-
thor(s),” Critical Inquiry 7/4 (Summer, 1981), pp. 793–98.
281
PERSIAN PROSE
Julie Scott Meisami also successfully introduced Hayden White’s

concepts into the field of Iranian (and Islamic) historical studies.11
Waldman and Meisami shared some goals in common: For ex-
ample, they insisted strongly on the necessity to reconstruct pa-
tronage relations between a given chronicle’s author and his pa-
trons. To uphold this view, they found it important to trace all
the laudatory passages and references by the author to his patron.
Analyzing Beyhaqi’s chronicle, Marilyn Waldman had tried to
interpret scrupulously the various ways events were presented to
the readers in the context of the relationship between the writer
and the patron. Meisami transferred this concept to a far wider se-
lection of chronicles written before the Mongol invasion. She was
able to cull information from a fascinatingly broad study by Sa’id
Nafisi (1895–1966), who had amassed a great deal of detailed infor-
mation, including additional texts and fragments of texts, which he
brought together under the title Dar pirâmun‑e târikh‑e Beyhaqi
(Around the Târikh‑e Beyhaqi).12 It should also be noted that both
Waldman and Meisami had in the historian Kenneth Allin Luther
(1934–1996) an important forerunner in the field of opening literary
perspectives on Persian chronicle writing.13 He was one of the first
scholars to introduce literary aspects of analysis in order to deepen
and enrich the historian’s interpretation of Persian historiograph-
ical texts; this approach helped him, for example, to differentiate
Rashid-al-Din’s adaption of Zahir-al-Din’s Saljuq-nâme from the
original Saljuq text through stylistic analysis.
These were pioneering attempts to retrieve comprehensive in-
formation a historical narrative text by means of implementing
concepts, skills and methods imported from literary criticism.
Hitherto, among historians, the reliability of narrative texts was
11 Julie Scott Meisami, Persian Historiography: To the End of the Twelfth
Century (Edinburgh, 1999.)
12 Sa’id Nafisi, Dar pirâmun‑e Târikh‑e Beyhaqi (2 vols., Tehran, 1964).
13 Kenneth Allin Luther, “Islamic Rhetoric and the Persian Historians, 1000–
1300,” in James Bellamy, ed., Studies in Near Eastern Culture and History
in Memory of Ernest T. Abdel-Massih (Ann Arbor, 1990), pp. 90–98; K. A.
Luther, tr., and C. Edmund Bosworth, ed., The History of the Seljuq Turks:
From the Jāmi al-Tawārīkh, an Ilkhanid Adaptation of the Saljūq-nāma of
Ẓahīr al-Dīn Nīshāpūrī. (Richmond, U. K., 2001).
282
almost exclusively proven by detailed philological comparison

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

World Civilization (3 vols., Chicago and London, 1974).
15 Anja Pistor-Hatam, Geschichtsschreibung und Sinngeschichte in Iran: Hi-
storische Erzählungen von mongolischer Eroberung und Herrschaft, 1933–
2011 (Leiden and Boston, 2014). For another perceptive historical analy-
sis on an earlier period and its later reinterpretations and reverberations
throughout Iranian history, see Neguin Yavari, The Future of Iran’s Past:
Nizam al-Mulk Remembered (Oxford, 2018).
283
PERSIAN PROSE
theoretical investigation in the field of Persian chronicle writing in

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

Sprache,” in HdO, Abt. 1, Bd. IV: Iranistik, Abschn. 2: Literatur (Leiden
and Cologne, 1968), pp. 100–167.
17 There is an English version, updated by Claude Cahen, Introduction to the
History of the Muslim East: A Bibliographical Guide (Berkeley and Los An-
geles, 1965).
284
example, he devotes extensive sections to the Târikh-e Sistân (His-

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

19 Bahâr, Sabk-shenâsi, II, pp. 122–28.
20 Abu-Bakr Mohammad b. Ja’far Narshakhi, Ketâb‑e târikh‑e Bokhârâ, ed.
Modarres Razavi (Tehran, 1985).
21 Hasan b. Mohammad b. Hasan Qomi, Ketâb‑e târikh‑e Qom (Tehran,
1935).
22 Abu’l-Hasan Ali b. Zeyd Ebn-Fondoq Beyhaqi, Târikh‑e Beyhaq, ed. A.
Bahmanyâr (Tehran, 1929).
285
PERSIAN PROSE
2. Writing Persian instead of Arabic—

Is the Language the Media or the Message?
Returning to the concept of “classic” works of history, one should

mention at the outset the most voluminous and influential work in
this category, the famous Ta’rikh al-Tabari (History of Tabari),23 a
massive work written in Arabic and in many ways departing radi-
cally from the specimens of narrative prose just mentioned. In the
course of time Tabari’s history came to serve almost as a blue-print
for historians throughout centuries—in Arabic, in Persian, as well
as in other languages. We cannot here deal in detail with Tabari’s
work, bearing the full title of Ta’rikh al-rosol va’l-moluk va’l-
kholafâ (Annals of the Prophets, the Kings, and the Caliphs), but a
brief look at its content and structure is necessary for the study of
Persian historiography. The English translation of the work com-
prises 39 volumes with an additional volume of indices.24 His his-
tory starts with the creation of the world and of mankind, followed
by a detailed report on the prophets (al-rosol) culminating with an
account of the Prophet Mohammad and the advent of Islam. Tabari
displays a deep understanding of the historical context in which the
Prophet himself found himself. Having finished the reports on the
preceding prophets, he does not immediately turn to Mohammad.
Instead, interrupting his narrative at this juncture, he describes the
ancient kingdoms, the Children of Israel and the four political en-
tities which he perceived as crucial for the emergence of Islam: the
empires of the Sasanians (Iran) and the Byzantines, the kingdom of
the Lakhmids and of Southern Arabia (Yemen). He then continues
his narrative with a detailed report on the Prophet Mohammad’s
lifetime, the history of the succeeding caliphs, the Islamic expansion
in the Arabian peninsula, and the conquest of Syria and Iran, two
developments which required the preceding descriptions of Iranian
and Byzantine rule as a prelude in order to make understandable
the process of the inclusion of Syria and Iran into the lands of Islam.
23 Ta’rikh al-Tabari, ed. Mohammad Abu’l-Fadl Ebrâhîm (11 vols, Cairo, 1967–72).
24 The History of al-Ṭabari, gen. ed. Ehsan Yarshater, trs. vary (40 vols., Al-
bany, N. Y., 1985–2007).
286
Since Mohammad was perceived as the “Seal of the Prophets,”

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

antines, Lakhmids, and pre-Islamic Yemen or South Arabia), the
scrupulously reported events around the Prophet Mohammad and
the historical formation of Islam as a religion but also as a political
and societal entity and, eventually, contemporary history of the
Middle East as seen through his own eyes. As already argued, his
methodological approach was clearly borrowed from the methods
of elm al-hadith, the critical assessment of traditions referring to
actions and sayings by the Prophet himself and the credibility of
such traditions. Tabari asserts explicitly that his narrative relies ex-
clusively on reports having been made by trustworthy witnesses
all of whom had to undergo his–Tabari’s—own critical evaluation.
The chain of relating witnesses that was necessary for the mohad-
deth in order to prove the reliability of any reports on the activities
and life of the Prophet was transferred to the genre of historical
writing: Tabari made use of the same tools in order to assert the
reliability of his historical reports that a mohaddeth had to apply
professionally in the case of traditions referring to the Prophet
Mohammad. The difference was that the latter—collecting Had-
ith-traditions concerning the Prophet—was acknowledged as part
of Islamic theology, and reporting of historical events was under-
stood as a non-theological scholarly activity.
The Persian versions of various chapters of the Ta’rikh al-Tabari
that were compiled by Abu-Ali Mohammad Bal’ami 25 were prob-
ably more directly influenced by Tabari than by any other Persian
text. This work was finished in the year 352/963, less than fifty
years after Tabari’s chronicle. Bal’ami was a vizier to the Samanid
ruler Mansur b. Nuh (r. 961–76), and he wrote his partly new ver-
sion of Tabari’s chronicle on the orders of this ruler. Bal’ami did not
render a simple translation of Tabari’s original Arabic text into Per-
sian. Our first impression of Bal’ami’s text is that this Persian ver-
sion is much more oriented toward story-telling than to historical
25 Abu-Ali Mohammad Bal’ami, Tarjome-ye târikh‑e Tabarî: qesmat‑e mar-

but be-Irân, ed. Mohammad-Javâd Mashkur (Tehran, 1959); new edition
by Mohammad Rowshan, Târikh-nâme-ye Tabarî: gardânide mansub
be-Bal’ami az kohantarin motun‑e Fârsi, bakhsh‑e châp nashode (3 vols.,
Tehran, 1995).
288
correctness which was an explicit aim of Tabari’s. He excluded parts

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

ence on “Reference Cultures and Imagined Empires from a West-
ern Perspective, 1850–2000” at the Research Institute for History
and Art History, Utrecht University (June 11–13, 2014). If we apply
the concept “reference culture” as it was used for Modern Times
at this conference to the early Islamic period we may see “Islamic
life-style” as a reference culture phenomenon. This phenomenon
had, and indeed still has, a linguistic marker: the Arabic language.
Nevertheless, it would be a grave mistake to subsume everything
“Arabic” as a “cultural reference” for “Islamic” in a general sense28.
In history, (New-)Persian was the first language (among many
others later on) to be adequately adopted for this life-style, and
I hesitate to regard Persian language (and Persianate culture) as a
“newcomer” in comparison to Arabic. “Islamic life-style” might
have appeared as a rather Arabic affair at a first glance, but it is
in fact a rather abstract construct which is equidistant to peoples
and individuals of any linguistic or ethnic or regional coordination.
From Syria to Central Asia via Media, Khorasan, and a wide range
of further areas multilingualism was a common socio-cultural
feature, as in many other parts of the world. The development of
“Islamic life-style” has therefore been a multifaceted, still ongoing,
historical process based far more on cross-pollination than antag-
onism. Transferred to our case of writing history (or any kind of
literary texts) in Arabic or in Persian, we have to accept that there
was much more cooperation than resistance in the relationship be-
tween the twain. But there were at the same time manifold aspects
of division of labor.
This approach offers us ways to compare Persian historiography
with other developments of this genre, particularly in comparison
with Arabic traditions of historical writing. The debate concerning
the question whether chronicle writing in Persian is to be perceived
28 For a perceptive analysis of the notion “reference language,” which is, mu-
tatis mutandis, applicable to Arabic and later to Persian from Anatolia to
India, see Wiebke Denecke, Classical World Literatures: Sino-Japanese
and Greco-Roman Comparisons (Oxford, 2013) and the review by Gunilla
Lindberg-Wada in Monumenta Nipponica 71/2 (2016), pp. 377–81
290
just as an adaptation of Arabic traditions or that Persian chronicles

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

arabischer Geschichtsschreibung in der Zeit der Mamluken,” ZDMG 121
(1971), pp. 46–60; idem, “Alṭun Ḫān und Čingiz Ḫān bei den ägyptischen
Mamluken,” Der Islam 51 (1974), pp. 1–36.
291
PERSIAN PROSE
historiography. Hence the representation of action in the latter case

usually follows dynastic paradigms rather than annalistic reports,
with the few notable extant exceptions merely proving the rule.
One important aspect of this narrative kind of prose literature
in historiographical disguise was the strong importance of contem-
porary reports, i. e., reports based on the author’s immediate testi-
mony. Persian authors relied strongly on their own experiences and
on experiences which were reported to them by reliable friends or
eye-witnesses. This reliability was much more based on individual
perceptions than on any esnâd-like proofs of trusted transmitters
of Hadith (esnâd is an enormously important element in Islamic
theology: It contains the explicit reference to a chain of proved
transmitters in order to corroborate the authenticity of a given
report or statement). Reference to an esnâd of transmitters was
widely practiced by chroniclers too, e. g., in the case of historians
writing in Arabic. To modern historical researchers, this consider-
ation implies inevitable methodological consequences. In addition
to critical comparison of reports and the quest for originality there
are also concepts of literary criticism which have to be considered
and followed. In some cases, analysis of textual structure may turn
out as at least as important to the historian as using traditional
historical tools.
This is not the place to delve into various positions of decon-
struction and post-modernism which were so prevalent at the end
of the 20th century. Here, the discussion is confined to a mention
of Michel Foucault as well as some implicit references to Hayden
White, since the following considerations concerning narration and
narrativity in the Persian tradition of historiography or, to put it in
another way, story-telling in Persian historiography, are to some
extent based on his distinction between “narrativity” and “fiction-
ality.” It seem that the Persian chronicle-writer had no intention
whatsoever to invent fiction. His goal was much more to narrate
events and historical incidents; but his determination to document
and to prove the veracity of such events was far less developed. It
is this apparent reluctance to furnish full documentation and recite
other testimonies that marks one of the main points of difference
between Arabic and Persian chroniclers.
292
The Târikh‑e Sistân,30 one of the earliest historiographical nar-

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

1935).
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As already mentioned, Waldman, Meisami, and others, have delved

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

bar Fayyâz (Tehran 1946); The History of Beyhaqi, tr. by C. E. Bosworth,
revised by Mohsen Ashtiany (3 vols., Boston, 2011).
32 See Abu’l-Ma’âli Nasr-Allâh Monshi, Kalile va Demne, ed. Mojtabâ Mi-
novi (Tehran, 2002), pp. ṭâ to y (I am thankful to Mohsen Ashtiany for this
valuable observation).
294
himself as an affable and convivial member of the court and seems

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

Gelpke, Die iranische Prosaliteratur im 20. Jahrhundert, 1. Teil: Grundla-
gen und Voraussetzungen (Wiesbaden, 1962), by comparing the narrative
qualities of Beyhaqi with those of modern Persian authors.
34 Mojmal at-tavârikh va’l-qesas, ed. Mohammmad-Taqi Bahâr (Tehran,
1940), pp. 398–402.
35 Nezâmi Aruzi, Chahâr maqâle, ed. Mohammad Qazvini (Cairo and Leiden,
1910).
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PERSIAN PROSE
can serve as an apt example: The author makes it explicit that from
his own point-of-view presenting ethical instruction and moral in-
doctrination to his audience serves as a disguise for creating perfect
pieces of highly refined prose literature.
3. Further Developments in Persian Historiography

from the 11th to the 13th Century
We find traces of the same style of combining the literary with

the historical in Persian chronicles from the Saljuq period as well.
Among the historians of the era, two authors will be discussed in
some detail. The first is Mohammad b. Ali Râvandi, author of the
chronicle Râhat al-sodur va âyat al-sorur (Solace of the Hearts
and Sign of Joy),36 which is devoted to the description of the so-
called “Saljuqs of Iraq” who ruled in the areas of western Iran and
Azerbaijan from the time of Sultan Sanjar until the conquests of
the Khwârazmshâhs in the early 13th century. Scholars of Saljuq
history have differed in their estimation of this author due to the
seemingly doubtful authenticity of his account concerning the pe-
riod of the Great Saljuqs.37 His reports on the early Saljuq sultans
from Toghrel I to Malekshâh are brimful of apocryphal anecdotes.
Râvandi was moreover blamed for plagiarism in his presentation of
facts. The author of the critical edition of Râvandi’s Râhat al-sodur
was able to prove plenty of borrowings from Ebn-al-Athir’s fa-
mous Arabic universal chronicle, Ketâb al-kâmel fi’l-ta’rikh (The
Complete Book of History),38 and also from earlier so called Sal-
juq-nâmes. Viewed from a different perspective, these objections
36 Mohammad b. Ali b. Soleymân Râvandi, Râhat al-sodur va âyat al-sorur,

ed. Muḥammad Iqbál as The Ráḥat-uṣ-Ṣudúr wa Áyat-us-Surúr: Being a
History of the Saljúqs (Leiden and London, 1921).
37 As generally acknowledged, the Great Seljuqs ruled from 429/1038 until the
end of the reign of Sultan Sanjar (552/1158) over the greater part of Iranian
soil and beyond.
38 Ebn-al-Athir, Ketâb al-kâmel fi’l-ta’rikh, ed. C. J. Tornberg as Chronicon
quod perfectissimum inscribitur (12 vols., Leiden, 1851–76).
296
appear almost irrelevant. Râvandi’s anecdotes concerning Toghrel

I may be of limited value in terms of histoire évémentielle, but we
learn a great deal about contemporary perceptions of the invading
rulers and their interaction with local people, e. g., with prominent
Sufis like Bâbâ Tâher, even if one suspects the king and the Sufi
never actually met. As far as his ability to tell fascinating stories is
concerned, factual discrepancies do not matter at all. Furthermore,
Râvandi’s transmission of anecdotes referring to sovereigns who
had ruled before his own lifetime has a value of its own.
In the second part of his chronicle, in due course, Râvandi con-
centrates on the description and interpretation of events he had
witnessed himself (or he, at least, could have witnessed). In a very
sober if not acerbic manner, he describes the early Iraq-Saljuq rul-
ers39—those who followed immediately after the “last Great Saljuq,”
Sultan Sanjar—and their lack of political acumen when it came to
displaying the qualities of an average ruler. While he ascribes to the
politically incompetent forerunners of Toghrel III, the last ruler
of the Iraq-Saljuqs, at least a certain desire for power and rule, he
presents Toghrel III (d. 1194) without any hesitation as an inane
coward who deserved to be defeated. These Iraq-Saljuq rulers were
dominated by members of a dynasty of so-called Atabegs, who
were the successors of a certain Ildeguz and had their stronghold
in Azerbaijan. The Atabegs were originally tribal aristocrats who
exercised the function of educators of royal princes. In the long
run, it happened repeatedly that these Atabegs gained sufficient
political power and influence to enable them to emerge from their
shadowy position and eventually take over dynastic rule, thereby
deposing the house in the service of which they once had started
their career. Râvandi lays harsh criticism on the behavior of the
sultans but maintains also an extremely critical position toward
some of these Atabegs. Ildeguz himself is portrayed as an able pol-
itician whose proficiency in the management of power was beyond
39 During the second decade of the 12 th century, a collateral line of Saljuq

princes managed to establish their rule in western Iran. They could maintain
their positions only precariously until the invasion by the Khwârazmshâhs
in the early 13th century. Toghrel III was the last Saljuq ruler of this branch
of the family.
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any doubt. Râvandi lavishes praise on one of his successors, Mo-

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

Khan (1231).
298
From his anecdotal reports, we understand that any kind of de-

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

employed, and the famous chronicle-writer Alâ’-al-Din Atâ-Malek
Joveyni (1226–1283), author of the Târikh‑e Jahân-goshây (History
of the World-Conqueror) which contains a unique description of
the life-time and conquests of the Mongol world-ruler Chingis
Khân.43 This fact is shown by the above-mentioned title of Ebn-Bi-
bi’s chronicle: al-Avâmer al-Alâ’iye fe’l-omur al-Alâ’iye, which
means “Alâ’-al-Din’s (i. e. Joveyni’s) Orders referring to Alâ’-al-
Dinian (i. e. the Sultan’s) Affairs.” This implies that Ebn-Bibi wrote
his chronicle in accordance with a proposal by the contemporary
chronicler Joveyni, and that he aimed at describing the lifetime
of the Sultan Alâ’-al-Din Keyqobâd in the territories of Rum
(Anatolia).
As with Râvandi, things appear a little more complicated. Ebn-
Bibi had changed his dedication whilst writing his chronicle, while
Râvandi’s finite object of dedication was another Saljuq sultan
of Rum. What is significant is the fact that obviously the dedica-
tion—and the person to whom such a work was dedicated—did not
deeply affect the narrative structure of the text itself. His dedica-
tion implied extensive formalized laudations in which the usual
poetic exaggerations were presented to the readership in order to
brandish the author’s rhetorical skills. The contents proper were
much less contaminated. This point is generally applicable to other
works as well. For example, Nezâmi Ganjavi also switched patrons
in medias res, but this only affected the prefatory or concluding
lines and not the narrative of his epic poem itself. There is one more
interesting point in the case of Râvandi worth mentioning: Since
we have an early manuscript of Râvandi, his numerous citations
of earlier or near contemporary poets within his report—such as
Nezâmi—are helpful in critically editing the inserted poets’ own
texts in cases where only later manuscripts exist, which would have
been tampered with in the course of time.
Political criticism is therefore much more emphatic in this type
of literature than one would expect at a first glance. Apparently,
43 Tr. John Andrew Boyle as The History of the World Conqueror (2 vols.,
Manchester, 1958).
300
this was a topic by means of which popular entertainment on be-

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

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

bâr: Moğullar zamanında Türkiye Selçukluları tarihi (Ankara, 1944).
302
imperial historiography which subsequently survived until the 19th

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

(Leipzig, 1927).
47 Hasan b. Ali Nezâm-al-Molk, Siyar al-moluk (Siyâsat-nâme), ed. Mahmud
Âbedi (Tehran, 2020).
48 They ruled in Cairo from 973 until 1074.
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Nezâm-al-Molk to re-establish and reinforce Sunni theology and

jurisprudence. He regarded this not only as a means of reinforcing
Sunni doctrines among the various layers of society but more pre-
cisely as the basic ideology of politics and rule within the Saljuq
realm proper and in the wider perspective of the entire dâr al-Es-
lâm, which, according to Nezâm-al-Molk, should be definitely and
undisputedly dominated by Sunni jurisprudence, law, and conduct.
He documented his philosophical and ideological concept in a long
treatise, the aforementioned Siyâsat-nâme.
One might have expected that such a work would be of a mainly
philosophical (or theological) content, but this is not the case.
Nezâm-al-Molk’s reasoning proves to be firmly grounded on his
perception of history. His defense of “orthodox” political rule is
not based on theological considerations but is rooted in the con-
cept that obeying “law and order” belongs to the essential and
indispensable prerequisites of any kind of rule whether Muslim
or non-Muslim. And it was for this very reason that Nezâm-al-
Molk’s argument turned out to be based on historical consider-
ations and not on theology. Following information which he could
have gathered easily from earlier sources like Tabari’s famous
chronicle, he started his refutation of revolutionary extremism
using the example of the Mazdakite uprising against the Sasanian
king Khosrow I Anushervan in the 6th century.49 While the Zo-
roastrian king Khosrow—also in accordance with Qur’anic con-
cepts—was conceived by Nezâm-al-Molk as the perfect image of a
“just ruler,” who should serve as a model for this concept to many
generations of Muslims, the upheaval by a young sectarian agita-
tor at Khosrow’s court was presented as something like a satanic
challenge to the divine principle of law and order. The dangerous
aspect of this Mazdak and the Mazdakites was to be found in the
fact that they propagated uncontrolled sexual relations in the royal
court and in princely households. This tenet at once threatened the
strict caste system on which the vertical hierarchy of distinction
by descent and parentage among Sasanian societal elites was built.
Facing the general danger for societal order that was caused by
49 He ruled 531–78.
304
Mazdak’s rebellion, a new legal system had to be established, and

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

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

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

a Mongol geographical perspective, Persian was a language that
was understood everywhere in “the West.” Persian was indeed
present in the city of Karakoram and, a generation later, in Qubilai
(Kublai) Khan’s metropolitan capital Khânbâleq, in our days better
known as Beijing. Until the discovery in the 20th century of the
famous chronicle “The Secret History of the Mongols” written in
Mongolian, only Chinese and Persian sources were available for
the reconstruction of the history of the Chengisid Empire. Per-
sian was most probably the language by means of which Marco
Polo communicated during his travels through Central Asian and
China, and this language penetrated even parts of the religious—
Islamic—domain of West Asian societies, as for instance the whole
field of vaqf-administration (the administration of affairs referring
to pious foundations), mysticism (“Sufism”) and even in practical
aspects of Islamic theology. As a result of this development, from
the late Middle Ages, Persian became the language of reference
from Eastern Anatolia, the Caucasus, and the Persian Gulf to the
Indian subcontinent and throughout the greater parts of Central
Asia. Islamic civilizations of Central Asia, whose primary lan-
guage had been various kinds of Turkish, in many cases showed a
clear tendency to use their own language more as a vernacular in
comparison to Persian. It goes without saying that this linguistic
development made a deep impact on the development of Persian
literature and of Persian historical writing, too.
It will be useful to shed some light on three chronicles from the
Mongol period: those of the already mentioned Joveyni, Rashid-al-
Din (1247–1318),53 and Vassâf (fl. early 14th century).54 These three
authors were not only deeply rooted in the traditions of Persian
53 Rashid-al-Din Hamadâni was born in 1247 at Hamadan into a Jewish fam-

ily. He studied medicine and joined the court of the Mongol Il-Khans. In
1304 became the vizier of the Mongol emperor Ghâzân (Mahmud) He was
eventually executed in 1318. Cf. Charles Melville, “Jāmeʿ al-tawārīḵ,” in EIr,
XIV, pp. 462–68.
54 Abd-Allâh b. Fazl-Allâh Vassâf al-Hazrat, Tajziyat al-amsâr va-tazjiyat al-
aʿsâr, facs. ed. Iraj Afshâr, Mahmud Omid-Sâlâr, Nâder Mottalebi-Kâshâni,
et. al. (Tehran, 2009). Cf. Rypka, Iranische Literaturgeschichte, p. 301.
308
historiography from pre-Mongol periods, but also responded to

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

sian Chronicle: The Triumph of Etiquette,” IrSt 17 (1984), pp. 237–56, par-
ticularly 244–45.
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section on Sohrâb and his downfall to recall a heroic tragedy of the

Kayanian times to the more recent plight of the Khwârazmshâh.
Just one generation later, Rashid-al-Din Fazl-Allâh no longer
confined himself to the territorial scope of the then new imperial
masters of Iran around 1300 but wrote a universal history in his vo-
luminous Jâme’ al-tavârikh (Compendium of Histories).56 Rashid-
al-Din was himself was of Jewish origin but had embraced Islam at
an early stage of his career at the Il-Khans’ court (i. e., the Mongol
rulers of Chengisid origin on Iranian soil). He was trained as a
physician but became one of the important counselors to Ghâzân
Khân and was eventually executed under Ghâzân’s successor as the
result of a courtly intrigue. As a chronicler, Rashid-al-Din wrote a
series of Persian histories of various regions and peoples—among
others a history of the “Franks” (farangi, i. e. Europeans), of India,
of China, and, of the Children of Israel (Târikh‑e Bani Esrâ’il).57 As
a descriptive piece of contemporary history, he wrote his Târikh‑e
mobârak‑e Ghâzân Khân (Blessed History of Ghâzân Khân),58
which included the conditions under Ghâzân Khan’s predecessors.
An aspect that was mentioned already with reference to Beyh-
aqi and Râvandi, namely more or less veiled and sometimes even
blunt disrespect displayed to rulers even from the dynasty which he
served, is clearly visible in his chronicles. Just as an example, his re-
port on the medical treatment and the subsequent death of an Ilkha-
nid ruler may be mentioned here: The Ilkhans (down to Geykhatu
and Ghâzân) were, just like their cousins on the throne of the so-
called Yuan emperors in Beijing, at least formally Buddhists, prob-
ably having combined this confession with rather vaguely defined
Shamanist or Animist convictions. As for medical care, they had
56 See bibliography.
57 These are all parts of his Jâme’ al-tavârikh. There exist carefully commented
German translations by Karl Jahn, published in single volumes by the Aus-
trian Academy of Sciences in Vienna (Die Frankengeschichte des Rašīd ad-
Dīn, 1977; Die Geschichte der Kinder Israels des Rašid ad-Din, 1973; Die
Geschichte der Oġuzen des Rašīd ad-Dīn, 1969; Die Chinageschichte des
Rašīd ad-Dīn, 1971; Die Indiengeschichte des Rašīd ad-Dīn, 1980).
58 Ed. Karl Jahn as Geschichte Ġāzān-Ḫān’s aus dem Ta’riḫ-i-mubārak-i-
Ġāzānī des Rašīd al-Dīn Faḍlallāh b. ʿImād al-Daula Abūl-Ḫair (London,
1940).
310
less trust in “Islamic”-Ptolemaian (Galenic) traditions of medicine

than in Indian customs of treatment. In retrospect, Rashid-al-Din
describes in detail how a sick king had delivered himself to the med-
ical skills of an Indian bakhshi—a healer, i. e., a Buddhist learned
holy man with medical proficiency—who, obviously in diametrical
opposition to the school of Rashid-al-Din himself, adhered to the
use of quicksilver as a cure for the ruler’s disablement, a measure
which caused Rashid-al-Din’s harsh disapproval. In an almost cyn-
ical or rather satirical manner, Rashid-al-Din describes the patient’s
progressive physical deterioration until his eventual death by mal-
treatment and poisoning. Rashid-al-Din’s style is clinically sober
and of almost unnatural coolness.59 It is fascinating to contrast this
passage of Rashid-al-Din’s with Beyhaqi’s denunciation of an old
wives’ recipe for curing temporary impotence which led to a hapless
prince’s death—also sober and disdainful at the same time.60
In contrast to Rashid-al-Din, another chronicler, who became
famous as “Vassâf” (a shortened version of vassâf‑e hazrat—“the
[literary] describer of His Majesty, the ruler”) composed a history
of his masters, the dynasty of the Ilkhans, which in due course
gained considerable fame because of the stylistic refinement the au-
thor used in its compilation.
Roughly contemporaneously, the history of the Mongol Ilkhans
of Persia was retold by another historian, Hamd-Allâh Mostowfi
(fl. 1281–1344), in his long verse narrative, Zafar-nâme (The Book
of Victories),61 written in the style of Ferdowsi’s Shâh-nâme. The
59 Birgitt Hoffmann, “Wortkunst im Dienste der Welteroberer: Ein vergle-

ichender Blick auf persische Gelehrte, Bürokraten und Dichter unter der
mongolischen Ilkhanen,” in Markus Ritter et al., eds., Iran und iranisch
geprägte Kulturen: Studien zum 65. Geburtstag von Bert G. Fragner (Wies-
baden, 2008), pp. 259–71; Birgitt Hoffmann, Waqf im mongolischen Iran:
Rašīduddīns Sorge um Nachruhm und Seelenheil (Stuttgart, 2000).
60 See Beyhaqi, The History of Beyhaqi, II, pp. 246–47.
61 Hamd-Allâh Mostowfi Qazvini, Zafar-nâme, facs. ed. N. Purjavâdi and
N. Rastgâr as Zafar-nâme-ye Hamd-Allâh Mostowfi be-enzemâm-e Shâh-
nâme-ye Abu’l-Qâsem Ferdowsi (be tashih-e Hamd-Allâh Mostowfi):
châp-e aksi az ru-ye noskhe-ye khatti-ye movarrakh-e 807 hejri dar Ketâb-
khâne-ye Beritâniyâ Or 2833 / Ẓafarnāma von Ḥamdullāh Mustaufi ̄ und
Šāhnāma von Abu’l Qāsim Firdausī (2 vols., Tehran and Vienna, 1999).
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name Mostowfi refers to his profession: He was involved in the

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

hostile to the ulus Chaghatay, and to a further ulus, the so-called
Golden Horde, on the soil of what we today understand as Russia
(the Golden Horde and Chaghatay being mutually hostile as well).
Roughly about 1300, under the rule of the Ilkhan Ghâzân, the Ira-
nian lands south of the Oxus were defined as Irân-zamin (the land
of Iran). In so doing, the Mongol Ilkhans revived the concept of
“Iran” after a period of about seven centuries or more. Strange as
it may seem, the Mongol rulers of Iran saw themselves as no less
than the legitimate successors of the Sasanians; and in due course
invested a fair share of energy in enhancing a wide range of sym-
bolic paraphernalia in order to help them refashion themselves in
this role.62
Hamd-Allâh Mostowfi was doubtless one of the foremost pro-
ponents of this agenda when he was at the service of Ghâzân Khan.
This ideological concept was reflected in his Nozhat al-qolub (De-
light of the Hearts)63—a descriptive geographical survey of pre-
cisely the land, Irân-zamin, that he intended to propagate. After
presenting his definition of these “lands of Iran,” he not only fo-
cused his efforts on the propagation of Ferdowsi’s poem but also
decided to write the Zafar-nâme, an already mentioned extensive
continuation of the Shâh-nâme. This monumental epic by Hamd-
Allâh Mostowfi contains about 75,000 couplets and, among other
themes, mainly treats the history of the Mongol Ilkhanid rulers
down to the year 1335.
62 Bert G. Fragner, “The Concept of Regionalism in Historical Research

on Central Asia and Iran (A Macro-Historical Interpretation),” in Devin
DeWeese, ed., Studies on Central Asian History in Honor of Yuri Bregel
(Bloomington, 2001), pp. 341–54; idem, “Historische Wurzeln neuzeitli-
cher iranischer Identität: zur Geschichte des politischen Begriffs ‘Iran’ im
späten Mittelalter und in der Neuzeit,” in Maria Macuch, Christa Müller-
Kessler, and Bert G. Fragner, eds., Studia Semitica necnon Iranica Rudolpho
Macuch septuagenario ab amicis et discipulis dedicata (Wiesbaden, 1989),
pp. 79–100. A short version can be found in Gherardo Gnoli and Anto-
nio Panaino, eds., Proceedings of the First European Conference of Iranian
Studies, Part 2 (Rome 1990), pp. 365–76.
63 Hamd-Allâh Mostowfi, Nozhat-al-qolub, ed. and tr. Guy Le Strange as The
Geographical Part of the Nuzhat-al-Qulūb (2 vols., London, 1915–19).
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We can discern a particular feature of Persian historical writing

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

tazavi, Masâ’el‑e asr‑e Ilkhâniyân (3 rd ed., Tehran, 2006), pp. 547–625, and
also by Mohammad Amin Riyâhi, Sarchashme-hâ-ye Ferdowsi-shenâsi
(Tehran, 1993).
314
he was admirably suited to create an epic version of what Vassâf

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

tions and centuries, these genres of historiography would continue
to serve as media of dynastic and other claims for legitimacy of
princely rule.65
The above-mentioned Ilkhanid concepts concerning legitimacy
in defining Iranian and non-Iranian lands, were not at all accept-
able to the ulus Chaghatay, particularly in the case of Iran’s eastern
territories. The main point of dissent concerned the large province
of Khorasan. A brief retrospective look at history may help to clar-
ify the problem: In the early phases of the Sasanian Empire, prob-
ably still in the 3rd century, a number of provinces and areas that
had been established already in antiquity were unified in order to
form a large administrative, fiscal, and military unit, which was
created from the traditional provinces Hyrcania (Gorgan) down
to Nishapur and Tus, Margiana (Marv), Ariana (Herat), and Bac-
tria (Balkh). The river Oxus (Amu-Daryâ) was perceived as the
north-eastern border of this territory and, in due course, also as
the north-eastern border of the Sasanian Empire. Under the condi-
tions prevailing after the Muslim conquest and especially from the
8th century onwards, the territorial expansion of the caliphate was
led far to the north, and the ancient lands of Soghdia, Khwârazm,
and Farghâna were incorporated in the dâr al-Eslâm. As an effect
of this process, the Oxus was not anymore perceived as a separating
line (as this was the case in Sasanian times) but as a connecting line.
Transoxiana, i. e. ancient Sogdia, was, in the times of the caliphate,
an additional part of the Muslim territory, in close neighborhood
to Khorasan and sometimes imagined even as a part of Khorasan.
The Ilkhânid concept of revitalizing Sasanian Iran in territory
did not accept the idea of a closer connection between Khorasan
and Transoxiana. To them, Khorasan belonged to their own realm,
and Transoxiana was perceived as being part of the ulus Chaghatay.
It goes without saying that the Chaghatay claimed Transoxiana
as their own heartland, but they also laid claims on Khorasan (or
at least the greater part of it), and there was therefore permanent
65 Fragner, “The Concept of Regionalism,” pp. 341–54.
316
dissent between the Ilkhans—and later on among their successors—

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

similar to Hamd-Allâh Mostowfi’s, in which he tried to find ratio-
nal and “scholarly” arguments for his own homesickness for his
home-country of Iran.67
The above discussion has focused on ideological and territo-
rial sub-texts of the historiography of the period, excluding other
important features that deserve to be mentioned. For example,
among other aspects of his voluminous output, Rashid-al-Din
strongly emphasized the aspect of memoir writing in the style we
have already examined in the cases of chroniclers like Beyhaqi and
Râvandi. In his already mentioned reports concerning the lives of
the Ilkhans after Hulegu, the founder of the Chengisid dynasty in
Iran, as well as when delving into his own personality, he uses a
very straight and direct style of expression. He refrains almost to-
tally from any kind of stylistic exaggerations and describes the rul-
ers and the leading figures in a rather naturalistic if not to say blunt
manner. He had an important share in paving the way for fostering
the personal memory of an author as a very distinct and important
element in the further tradition of Persian historical writing. This
does not mean that parallel to Rashid-al-Din’s rather sober style
there were not at all times also texts produced in rich metaphori-
cal and ornate styles, but particularly from Rashid-al-Din onward
matter-of-fact reporting became more frequent.
5. From the Timurid Period to the 19th Century
During the Timurid era, the tradition of writing universal histories

in the manner of Tabari was continued and even further strength-
ened. In this connection, there are two important chronicle-writers:
Mohammad b. Khâvandshâh Mirkhwând (1433–98)68 and his
67 Mohammad-Mofid Mostowfi Bâfqi, Jâme’-e Mofidi, ed. Iraj Afshâr (3 vols.,

2 nd ed., Tehran, 2005).
68 Mohammad b. Khwâvandshâh b. Mahmud Mirkhwând, Târikh‑e Rowzat
al-safâ fi sirat al-anbiyâ va’l-moluk va’l-kholafâ, ed. Jamshid Kiyânfar (7
vols. in 11, Tehran, 2001).
318
grandson Ghiyâth-al-Din Mohammad Khwândamir (1475–1537).69

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

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

(Tehran, 1971).
72 Fazl-Allâh b. Ruzbehân Khonji-Esfahâni, Mehmân-nâme-ye Bokhârâ, ed.
Manuchehr Sotude (Tehran, 1952).
73 Bâbor, Bâbor-nâme, ed. and tr. Wheeler M. Thackston as The Baburnama:
Memoirs of Babur, Prince and Emperor (New York and Oxford, 1996).
320
of the Bâbor-nâme, but also in regions outside of the traditional

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

(Memoirs of Bhimsen relating to Aurangzib’s Deccan Campaigns) (Bombay,
1972).
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aspects of Safavid chronicle writing characterize Sholeh Quinn’s

pioneering studies on chronicles from the period of Shah Abbâs
I (1581–1628).75 The more recent study by Tilmann Trausch fo-
cuses mainly on the formative period of Safavid chronicle-writ-
ing. Its author treats most aspects of the development of this genre
throughout the 16th century.76 He traces two main schools in his-
tory-writing in the 16th century: one perpetuating the traditions
of the Timurid court in 15th century Herat, and the other, which
he calls the “school of Qazvin,” follows the tradition of the west
Iranian and eastern Anatolian Turkmen dynasties of the so-called
Qara-Qoyunlu and Aq-Qoyunlu (the latter having been replaced
by the Safavids). Those writing within the Herati tradition follow
the model of Mirkhwând and Khwândamir and strive to arrange
history as a full and rounded report on processes in which every
event gets its special position. On the other hand, the less tradi-
tional Qazvini authors present a rather unsystematic approach to
events and stories and mostly refrain from excessively artificial
phrasing and ornate diction. As a typical example of the Qazvini
chronicle-writing, one may mention Qâzi Ahmad Qomi and his
Kholâsat al-tavârikh (Summary of Histories).77 He offers a moving
and almost Shakespearian account of the execution of Shah Tah-
mâsp’s brothers—Sâm Mirzâ, Alqâs, and others—at the Qahqahe
castle on the explicit orders of the shah himself. Under the reign of
the already mentioned Shâh Abbâs I, the state developed imperial
traits, and the self-representation of the leading layers of the so-
cial structure as imperial leaders should not be ignored.78 Within
this rather open frame between the story-telling attitudes which
75 Sholeh Quinn, Historical Writing During the Reign of Shah ‘Abbas: Ideol-
ogy, Imitation and Legitimacy in Safavid Chronicles (Salt Lake City, 2000);
idem, “Historiography vi. The Safavid Period,” in EIr, XII, pp. 363–67.
76 Tilmann Trausch, Formen höfischer Historiographie im 16. Jahrhundert.
Geschichtsschreibung unter den frühen Safaviden: 1501–157 (Vienna, 2015).
On the popular genre of Safavid historiography, see Barry Wood, ed. and
tr., The Adventures of Shāh Esmā’il: A Seventeenth Century Persian Prose
Romance (Leiden and Boston, 2018)
77 Qâzi Ahmad b. Sharaf-al-Din Hoseyn-al-Hoseyni Qomi, Kholâsat al-tav-
ârikh, ed. Ehsân Eshrâqi (Tehran, 2004).
78 Rudi Matthee, “Was Safavid Iran an Empire?,” JESHO 53 (2010), pp. 233–65.
322
originated from the Western (Qazvini) tradition and the highly re-
fined and stylistically imposing Herati habits, Safavid historiogra-
phy established itself as a specific genre of high differentiation and
a wealth of varieties which can be understood as a particular kind
of literary historiographical tradition. Nevertheless, more ancient
styles and traditions survived even after the end of Safavid rule: A
certain Mahdi Khân follows in the middle of the 18th century the
traditions of Mirkhwând and Vassâf by writing his Târikh‑e jahân-
goshây‑e Nâderi (History of Nâder, the World Conqueror) as well
as his Dorreh-ye nâdere (Rare Pearl) while in the service of Nâder
Shah (1688–1747). At roughly the same time other writers surmise
that the time of ornate and floridly crafted prose literature might
have already served its time.79
In some cases, it is difficult to define the character of given texts.
If we consider the famous text Târikh‑e ahvâl bâ tadhkere-ye
khod (A History of Current Events with an Account of the Life of
the Author Himself) of Sheykh Hazin (Mohammad b. Abi-Tâleb
Gilâni),80 a Persian who had lived in Mughal India and returned to
his hometown Isfahan in the thirties of the 18th century after the
break-up of Safavid rule, it is not at all clear whether his lament on
post-Safavid conditions should be regarded as historiography or as
a piece of memoir-writing.
Another and very convincing example of this structural blend of
memoir-writing and historical account of facts and events is a well-
known chronicle written by the Shiraz-born descendant of a fam-
ily of high officials and administrators dating back to Safavid times
who died in the 1830 s. His name was Mohammad Hâshem, nick-
named Rostam-al-Hokamâ, and his târîkh was aptly and ironically
called Rostam at-tavârîkh (The Rostam of Histories; or perhaps
The Hercules of Histories!).81 It is difficult to decide whether this
79 Rypka, Iranische Literaturgeschichte, p. 293.

80 Bert G. Fragner, Persische Memoirenliteratur als Quelle zur neueren Ge-
schichte Irans (Wiesbaden, 1979), p. 11.
81 Birgitt Hoffmann, Persische Geschichte 1694–1835 erlebt, erinnert und er-
funden: Das Rustam at-tawārīḫ in deutscher Bearbeitung (2 vols., Berlin,
1986); Abbâs Milâni, “Rostam-at-tavârikh va mas’ale-ye tajaddod,” Ma-
jalle-ye Irân-shenâsi 8/2 (1996), pp. 237–65.
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PERSIAN PROSE
text should be regarded as one of the last traditional and pre-mod-

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

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

ure. Joveyni remained somewhat lukewarm and restrained in his
admiration for Chengis Khan, and Rashid-al-Din was very out-
spoken when he wrote about some Ilkhanid rulers’ inclination to-
wards non-Islamicate traditions and fashions that had originated
from India or China, i. e. definitely from outside the dâr al-Eslâm.
His above-mentioned cynical Galenic-based criticism of tantric
medical treatments that had originated from India and prized by
the Mongol rulers of Iran is a case in point. Mohammad Hâshem
brought this tradition to a late culmination.
The same phenomenon can be traced in Persian chronicles
from Central Asia: In his above-mentioned collection of mirabilia,
Badâye’ al-vaqâye’, the late post-Timurid chronicle-writer Zeyn-
al-Din Mahmud Vâsefi gives a hilarious account of the stupidity of
the Timurid ruler Abu-Sa’id, criticizing his lack of understanding
of Persian poetry. Three centuries later, in the second half of the
19th century, the Bukharan adib Ahmad-Makhdum Dânesh (1827–
97) wrote a book named Navâder al-vaqâye’ (Rare Happenings),
which was clearly intended as an allusion to Vâsefi’s model that had
enjoyed high literary esteem all over Central Asia.82 Dânesh too
was not interested in poking fun at long forgotten dynasties: He
focused mainly on the ruling house of the Manghit amirs of Uzbek
origin in his home country, the emirate of Bukhara. In this book,
and also in his “Short History of the Manghit Dynasty,”83 he does
not hesitate in unmasking his rulers as mostly incompetent, stu-
pid, and even sinful characters. A well-known 20 th-century Cen-
tral Asian author, the famous Tajik writer Sadriddîn Aynî (Sadr-
al-Din Eyni; d. 1954), who in his early youth saw himself as an
indirect pupil of Dânesh, followed this tradition in his own early
82 Ahmad-Makhdum Dânesh (Ahmadi Donish), Navâder al-vaqâye’ (Navo-

dir al-vaqoi’), ed. Rasul Hodizoda (2 vols., Dushanbe, 1988–89). There is
a recent analytic study on this and on comparable texts from late 19th cen-
tury Bokhara by Franz Wennberg, On the Edge: The Concept of Progress in
Bukhara during the Rule of the Later Manghits (Uppsala, 2013).
83 Ahmad-Makhdum Dânesh, Resâle yâ mokhtasari az târikh‑e khânedân‑e
Manghitiye (Stalinabad, 1960).
326
historiographical writings, in Persian (or “Tajik”) and Turkic (Uz-

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

(Târikh‑e amirân‑e Manghitiyye-ye Bokhârâ), in his Kulliyot (Kolliyât) (14
vols., Dushanbe, 1966), X, pp. 7–191.
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PERSIAN PROSE
Marzbân-nâme, and a number of collections of various stories,

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

the Mughal Empire, were also heavily influenced by Vassâf’s style.
It was not by mere chance that the first lithographed edition of
Vassâf’s chronicle was published on Indian soil (like so many other
Persian manuscripts, however). Since the late 19 th century, even
among Persophone users of historiographical texts, Vassâf’s chron-
icle gradually became perceived as rather difficult to read in terms
of understanding the factual content of the text as opposed to en-
joying its stylistic value.85
In summing up the above survey, it appears in retrospective
that the characteristics of historiography in Persian and in Arabic
started to develop in different ways at an early stage. While Ara
bic historical writing assumed a much more scholarly attitude and
was closely related to elm al-hadith, Persian historiography, since
the very beginning of this genre, followed a much more literary
concept aiming rather at intellectual entertainment than at doc-
umentation and reportage. Its approach toward historical writing
was far more influenced by epic and narrative traditions originat-
ing in pre-Islamic Iranian sources. Writing and reading history in
the Persian language cannot therefore be set apart from the devel-
opment of literature and literary trends in Persian. This meant that
Persian historiographical writing in the course of time turned out
85 Joseph von Hammer-Purgstall (d. 1856) translated the text into German
in five volumes. The first volume was published just before his death. The
remaining four volumes surfaced again roughly 120 years later, when a li-
brarian at the Austrian Academy of Sciences discovered copies of Ham-
mer-Purgstall’s handwritten translations that had been typewritten,
probably in the 1960 s. Currently, Sibylle Wentker has been editing these
typescripts for publication; see Sibylle Wentker, ed., Geschichte Wassaf ’s:
Deutsch übersetzt von Hammer-Purgstall (3 vols., Vienna, 2010–12). Also,
an autograph copy of the fourth volume of Vassâf’s chronicle was discove-
red in Turkey and published in facsimile: See now Abd-Allâh b. Fazl-Allâh
Vassâf al-Hazrat, Tajziyat al-amsâr va tazjiyat al-a’sâr, ed. Iraj Afshâr,
Mahmud Ommid-Sâlâr, Nâder Mottalebi-Kâshâni, et. al. (Tehran 2009);
Judith Pfeiffer, “‘A Turgid History of the Mongol Empire in Persia’: Epis-
temological Reflections Concerning a Critical Edition of Vaṣṣāf’s Tajziyat
al-amṣār va-tazjiyat al-aʿṣār,” in Judith Pfeiffer and Manfred Kropp, eds.,
Theoretical Approaches to the Transmission and Edition of Oriental Manu-
scripts (Würzburg 2007), pp. 107–79.
329
PERSIAN PROSE
to provide a fertile ground for individualist and memory-based au-

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

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

2005).
87 Quinn, Historical Writing During the Reign of Shah ‛Abbas; idem, “Notes
on Timurid Legitimacy in Three Safavid Chronicles,” IrSt 31/2 (1998),
pp. 149–58.
331
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338
CHAPTER 7
BIOGRAPHICAL WRITING:
TADHKERE AND MANÂQEB
Paul Losensky
Two genres of Persian literature are devoted exclusively to biog-

raphy and life writing, the tadhkere and the manâqeb. Both differ
significantly from the prototypical modern biography. Although
the manâqeb shares with modern biography its focus on the life
of a single individual, in practice the genre is limited in scope to
the lives, sayings, and miracles of religious leaders, particularly de-
scendants of the Prophet and Sufi sheikhs. In keeping with its et-
ymological associations with words meaning “character” (naqibe)
and “leader” (naqib), the manâqeb focuses on virtues, praisewor-
thy deeds, and memorable sayings, and it is essentially laudatory in
tone and content.1 Indeed, works of manâqeb would now usually
be regarded more as hagiographies than biographies, though no
such distinction was made when they were written.
The tadhkere covers a broader range of persons than the
manâqeb and does not always portray them in a positive light,
but unlike the modern biography, it does not deal with single in-
dividuals. Instead, the tadhkere contains notices of any number
of individuals (sometimes reaching into the thousands) who be-
long to a particular social or professional class. In principle, a
tadhkere might be devoted to any group of people, and collec-
tive biographies have been written for calligraphers and artists,
doctors, administrators, Hadith scholars, and other notables. In
practice, however, Persian biographical compendiums usually fo-
cus on one of two categories. Tadhkeres of religious leaders and
1 Charles Pellat, “Manāḳib,” in EI2 , VI, pp. 349–50.
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Sufis in some ways resemble abridged compendiums of individual

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

Memorative Communications,” in David Gilmartin and Bruce B. Lawrence,
eds., Beyond Turk and Hindu: Rethinking Religious Identities in Islamicate
South Asia (Gainesville, 2000), p. 150.
340
Biographical Writing: Tadhkere and Manâqeb
their titles in each of these traditions can serve as starting points—

Tadhkerat al-owliyâ and Tadhkerat al-sho’arâ.
1. The Sufi Tradition: Arabic Precedents

and Persian Developments
The first Persian biographical work to use the word tadhkere in

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

Imam Abu Hanifa (God’s mercy upon him). Joneyd said, “The key
to the sciences of this clan is Ebrāhim ebn Adham.”3
The rhyming epithets stand out from Attâr’s otherwise plain prose
style. They not only serve to establish the laudatory tone, but serve
as an invocation; these biographies are not a passive record of the
past, but commemorations, active reminders of human spiritual ca-
pacity. Though the audience can seldom hope to imitate the lives
of these exemplars, their performative recollection can instill the
spirit of emulation.
The introduction is followed by anecdotes. Normally, these are
initiated by the story of the subject’s repentance or conversion to a
life in God, and most biographies conclude with stories about his
or her death. Aside from these starting and end points, however,
there is little concern for creating a linear, consistent, and continu-
ous narrative. The life and spiritual career of the friend of God are
presented as a series of brief narrative incidents; they seldom in-
volve more than one or two characters and a single action and reac-
tion. This style of narration reflects a primarily oral, memorybased
mode of transmission, which ultimately goes back to the “reports”
(akhbâr) that constituted the earliest form of Islamic history. These
anecdotes may be linked thematically or by certain recurrent char-
acter types or settings, but only rarely by psychological consis-
tency or the enchainment of cause and effect. It is not unusual for
the same anecdote to recur in multiple biographies, not only within
a single tadhkere, but across several works with different subjects.
The anecdotes are followed by a series of aphorisms or sayings
attributed to the subject. Rarely longer than a sentence or two,
these aphorisms, like the anecdotes, follow one another as discrete
units, separated by the citation verb, “he said,” as seen in the first
several sayings of Dhu’l-Nun Mesri:
3 Farid-al-Din Attâr, Tadhkerat al-owliyâ, tr. Paul Losensky as Farid ad-

Din ‘Attār’s Memorial of God’s Friends: Lives and Sayings of Sufis (New
York, 2009), p. 127. See also pp. 18–32 for more detailed discussion of the
structure of this work.
342
He said, “The most difficult of veils is the vision of the self.” He said,
“Wisdom does not settle in the belly full of food.” He said, “Asking
for forgiveness without refraining from sin is the repentance of liars.”
He said, “Happy is the person whose heart’s watchword is scrupu-
lousness, whose heart is purified of lust, and who reckons with his
self in everything he does.” He said, “Bodily health is in eating spar-
ingly. Spiritual health is in sinning sparingly.”4
Although the sequence is not dictated by chronology or strict rules
of logic, several of these aphorisms are thematically linked by the
theme of watching over the bodily ego-self (nafs) and the connec-
tion between body and soul. In the hands of a poet like Attâr, the
“modular” structure of both the anecdotes and aphorisms contrib-
utes to the unfolding of a network of associations more complex
than a strictly linear logic might permit.
Although we usually think of biography as the “story” of some-
one’s life, in the tadhkere, the words uttered or written by the sub-
jects, be they Sufis, religious scholars, or poets, are often given more
space and importance than their actions or the events of their lives.
From the beginning of the Islamic biographical tradition, “the basic
qualification for inclusion in the general run of biographical com-
pendiums is the contribution brought by the individual to the cul-
tural tradition of the Muslim community.”5 Such cultural contribu-
tions normally take the form of the words that survive the death of
the speaker or writer. This signal importance of the verbal heritage
explains not only the professional classes most commonly treated
in tadhkeres—religious leaders, scholars, and poets—but also the
emphasis on sayings, writings, and poetry in the biographical no-
tices. It is not uncommon to find entries in collective biographies
that consist almost entirely of quotations of the subject’s words. In
the Persian tradition of life writing, individuals are significant not
so much for their actions as for the words that they have bequeathed
to posterity and their positions in lineages of learning, art, and piety.
4 Farid-al-Din Attâr, Tadhkerat al-owliyâ, ed. Mohammad Este’lâmi (2nd ed.,

Tehran, 1984), p. 148.
5 Hamilton Gibb, “Islamic Biographical Literature,” in Bernard Lewis and
P. M. Holt, eds., Historians of the Middle East (London, 1962), p. 55.
343
PERSIAN PROSE
Writing about people who lived some three to five centuries be-
fore his time, Attâr necessarily relied on earlier sources, and his
authorship consists largely of selecting, arranging, and rewriting
previous materials. Tadhkerat al-owliyâ can be seen as the cul-
mination of the process of translating and transforming the Ara
bic Sufi tradition into Persian, which took place in Khorasan over
the course of the 11th and 12th centuries. One of Attâr’s principal
sources was Tabaqât al-sufiyye (Sufi Ranks) by Abu Abd-al-Rah-
mân Solami (d. 1021), which was written in Arabic in Attâr’s home
town of Nishapur. Solami’s work was itself the product of a long
tradition of biographical compendiums in Arabic, known, as its
title indicates, as the tabaqât genre. Meaning “categories, classes, or
generations,” the Arabic tabaqât probably originated in works of
Hadith scholarship. To assess the validity of reports of the sayings
and deeds of the Prophet Mohammad, scholars needed to know
the proximity of the transmitters of these reports to the Prophet
and to one another. The concern for ascertaining sound chains
of transmission for Hadith, however, was part of “a global pre-
occupation of all scholars in different fields: to give to society the
canons for transmitting knowledge whether sacred or secular”6 to
assure the continuity of the tradition. The tabaqât genre thus ex-
panded to include biographical collections on the representatives
of other professions, such as Qur’an reciters, poets, physicians, and
jurists in the various schools of law. These works were organized in
several ways—by affiliation to the Prophet, chronology, and later
alphabetical order—structural schemas that were handed down
to the Persian tradition. Solami’s Tabaqât al-sufiyye extends this
life-writing tradition to esoteric Islam; it is organized in five gen-
erations and aims to establish the continuity of Sufi teaching and
belief with the more mainstream Sunni tradition.
The link connecting the Arabic biographical tradition to Attâr
goes through two works in which the tadhkere was blended with
another genre—the manual of Sufi doctrine and practice. Solami’s
Tabaqât served as a primary source for the biographical sections
of two nearly contemporaneous works: the Resâle (Treatise) by
6 Claude Gilliot, “Ṭabaḳāt,” in EI2 , X, p. 8.
344
Abu’l-Qâsem Qosheyri (d. 1072), translated from Arabic into Per-

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

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

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

12 Nur-al-Din Abd-al-Rahmân Jâmi, Nafahât al-ons men hazarât al-qods, ed.
Mahmud Âbedi (Tehran, 2007), pp. 380–417.
14 Jürgen Paul, “Hagiographic Literature,” in EIr, XI, p. 537.
346
work was popular among the Sufis of Jâmi’s time. The second is a
sort of appendix of brief biographies of thirty-four “women mys-
tics” (zanân‑e âref).15 The inclusion of the first is likely due both to
Jâmi’s own stature as a poet and to the broader tradition of literary
tadhkeres that we will examine below. The gender-segregated in-
clusion of women would later appear in the biographical compen-
diums of poets as well.
The later Timurid period marked the beginning of a prolifer-
ation and transformation of Sufi biographical compendiums, and
no survey can hope to encompass the dozens of tadhkeres, many
of which remain unpublished, written on Sufis in Central Asia and
Mughal India (though not in Safavid Persia) over the course of the
next three centuries. A couple of examples must suffice to indicate
general trends. Rashahât‑e eyn al-hayât (Trickles from the Spring
of Life) was composed in 1503 by Fakhr-al-Din Ali Safi, son of
the renowned litterateur of Herat Hoseyn Kâshefi. Fakhr-al-Din
belonged to the same Naqshbandi Sufi order as Jâmi, and the sec-
ond half of the Rashahât is devoted to an extended biography of
the order’s spiritual master, Khwâje Ahrâr. This part of the work is
divided into three sections containing anecdotes on his early life,
his sayings, and his miracles. The first half of the Rashahât, how-
ever, consists of a tadhkere-like compendium of earlier sheikhs;
these sheikhs are all supposedly Khwâje Ahrâr’s predecessors in the
Naqshbandi order, but many have been co-opted from a competing
Sufi selsele, the Yasavi. This process effectively “appropriates the
charisma [of the Yasavi] and delegitimizes it as an independent and
rival tradition.”16
The tendency to organize the collective biography in a way that
promotes the claims of a particular school of Sufi thought and prac-
tice can also be found in two tadhkeres composed by the Mughal
Prince Dârâ Shokuh (executed by his brother Âlamgir Aurangzeb
in 1659). The partisan purpose is especially prominent in the shorter
15 Jâmi, Nafahât, pp. 586–612 and 613–33.

16 Devin DeWeese, “The Mashā’ikh-i Turk and the Khojagān: Rethinking the
Links between the Yasavī and the Naqshbandī Sufi Traditions,” Journal of
Islamic Studies 7 (1996), p. 190. On the Rashahât, also see Storey, PL, I/2,
pp. 964–66.
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of the two works, Sakinat al-owliyâ (Tranquility of God’s Friends,

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

structure of the tadhkere by focusing on a single prominent indi-
vidual. In so doing, they absorb the biographical compendium into
the second major genre of life writing in Persian, the manâqeb. In
his Tadhkerat al-owliyâ, Attâr had done the opposite, absorbing
material from manâqebs into his collective biography. For exam-
ple, he concludes his notice on Bâyazid of Bestâm with a comment
made by the later Sufi sheikh Abu Sa’id b. Abi’l-Kheyr at Bâyazid’s
tomb, taken from the manâqeb Asrâr al-towhid by Ebn-Monav-
var.19 Other anecdotes and sayings come from the Arabic manâqeb
17 Hermansen and Lawrence, “Memorative Communications,” p. 161.
18 See Bruce Lawrence, “Biography and the 17th Century Qādirīya in North
India,” in Anna Libera Dallapiccola and Stephanie Aingel-Avé Lallemant,
eds., Islam and the Indian Regions (2 vols., Stuttgart, 1993), I, pp. 399–415.
On Dârâ’s two tadhkeres, see also Storey, PL, I/2, pp. 992–99.
19 Compare Attâr, Tadhkerat, p. 210, and Mohammad Ebn-Monavvar, Asrâr
al-towhid fi maqâmât al-Sheykh Abi Sa’id, ed. Mohammad-Rezâ Sha-
fi’i-Kadkani (2 vols., Tehran, 1987), I, p. 199.
348
on Bâyazid himself by Mohammad b. Ali Sahlaji (d. 1084), Ketâb

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

Bâyazid Bestâmi, tr. Mohammad-Rezâ Shafi’i-Kadkani (Tehran, 2005),
pp. 45–6.
21 See Charles Pellat, “Manāḳib,” EI2 VI, pp. 349–57.
22 Neveshte bar daryâ: az mirâs‑e ‘erfâni-ye Abu’l-Hasan Kharaqâni, ed. Mo-
hammad-Rezâ Shafi’i-Kadkani (Tehran, 2005), pp. 347–84.
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Richer in narrative material is Asrâr al-towhid (Secrets of God’s

Mystical Oneness), the longest and most famous of the three ma-
qâmât devoted to the life of Kharaqâni’s contemporary, Abu-Sa’id
b. Abi’l-Kheyr (d. 1049). Like most works in the genre, the Asrâr
was written by a descendent or later disciple of its subject, in this
case Abu-Sa’id’s great-great-grandson, Ebn-Monavvar; the literary
work, composed around 1178, in effect replaces the tomb of the
sheikh in Nishapur that had been destroyed by the Ghozz Turks
some thirty years earlier. The authorship of the work is indicative
of its rhetorical stance and purpose; the manâqeb is almost by defi-
nition highly partisan in its promotion of the virtues of its subject.
Many anecdotes, for example, display Abu-Sa’id’s superiority to
his contemporaries and, in particular, the renowned Sufi scholar
whom we encountered above, Abu’l-Qâsem Qosheyri:
It is related that Ostâd Imam Bu’l-Qâsem Qosheyri, God sanctify
his awesome soul, one night thought to himself, “Tomorrow I will
attend the Sheikh’s assembly, and I will ask him, ‘What is divine law
and what is the mystic path?’ Let me see what he will say.”
Early the following morning, Ostâd Imam went to the Sheikh’s
assembly and sat down. The Sheikh started speaking. But before Os-
tâd Imam posed his question, the Sheikh said, “To the person who
would ask questions on divine law and the mystic path, know I have
summed up all the sciences of divine law and the mystic path in this
verse:
The beloved’s message has come: Prepare for action.
That is the law!
Show the heart’s love and clear away the nonsense.
That is the path!”23
Although Abu-Sa’id probably did not compose the poem he re-
cites here, his skill in aptly quoting and interpreting others’ poetry
is on display throughout the Asrâr; verbal performance is again
emphasized, and we get an early taste of the prominence of poets
and poetry, Sufi or otherwise, in the later biographical tradition.
23 Adapted from Mohammad Ebn-Monavvar, The Secrets of God’s Mys-

tical Oneness, tr. John O’Kane (Costa Mesa, Calif., 1992), p. 160. See
Ebn-Monavvar, Asrâr, I, pp. 79–80.
350
Abu-Sa’id gains a further advantage over Qosheyri through his

clairvoyant ability to read minds.
Saintly miracles (karâmât) play a prominent role in the manâqeb,
and most works in the genre will devote at least one chapter to the
topic. Wonder-working can even be the sole topic or central focus
of some saintly biographies, such as Maqâmât‑e Zhende-Pil con-
cerning the spiritual feats of Ahmad‑e Jâm (d. 1141), composed by
one of his immediate disciples, Mohammad Ghaznavi, sometime
around 1150. Such miracles fall into several conventional catego-
ries, such as reading minds, foreknowledge of future events, heal-
ing, speaking with animals, efficacious blessings or curses, and
even telekinesis and the transformation of material objects.24 In
violating the physical laws of nature and the normal limitations
on human knowledge, these miracles strike the modern reader as
fantastic and implausible, but in this hagiographic literature, it is
precisely the exceptional nature of the spiritually gifted that makes
them exemplary. Miracle stories, of course, bolster claims to spiri-
tual legitimacy and charisma by demonstrating the power to cross
between the natural and the supernatural realms, but they also of-
ten are the vehicle for teaching points of doctrine and belief. More-
over, the miraculous can only emerge against the background of
the quotidian, and manâqeb often provide an incidental wealth of
detail on everyday life and belief systems that is often elided in
other literary sources.25
The manâqeb of Sufi sheikhs from outside of Khorasan before
the Mongol invasions were usually composed in Arabic and later
translated into Persian. The history of one such work, the vita of
Abu-Eshâq Kâzaruni (d. 1033), is indicative of larger changes in
the hagiographic tradition. A manâqeb on his life was originally
24 Mohammad Ghaznavi, Maqâmât‑e Zhende-Pil, trs. Heshmat Moayyad
and Franklin Lewis as The Colossal Elephant and his Spiritual Feats: Shaykh
Ahmad‑e Jâm (Costa Mesa, Calif., 2004), pp. 444–49; Browne, LHP, IV,
pp. 40–41.
25 As Sa’id Nafisi observes, “the authors [of manâqeb] have put down for us
the life of the common people of every age with complete reliability and
honesty and without allowing in flattery, exaggeration, fakery, or adul-
teration”: “Resâle-ye Sâhebiyye,” ed. Sa’id Nafisi, Farhang‑e Irân-zamin 1
(1953), p. 71.
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written in Arabic by Abu-Bakr al-Khatib (d. 1109), but this work

had to wait over two centuries to be translated into Persian in 1328.
The translator, Mahmud b. Othmân, added to the legacy of this an-
cient master by composing an original manâqeb on his own spir-
itual mentor, Amin-al-Din Balyâni, a descendent of AbuEshâq.26
This was only one of many single-life biographies of Sufi masters
written during the 14th and 15th centuries. These included lives of
the namesake of the Naqshbandi order (Bahâ-al-Din Naqshband),27
of the Ne’matollâhi order (Ne’mat-Allâh Vali),28 and many others.29
Such works both express and authorize the growing importance
of formal Sufi orders as they take shape and assert their position
and power against one another after the Mongol conquests. Per-
haps the most vivid example of this partisan politicization of the
Sufi biographical tradition is the Safvat al-safâ (Essence of Purity)
of Ebn-Bazzâz. This account of the life, wonders, and sayings of
Sheikh Safi-al-Din Eshâq Ardabili (d. 1334) was written by one of
his son’s disciples only 24 years after Safi-al-Din’s death. It grew
out of the same kind of environment as other manâqeb of the 14th
century. The order founded by the sheikh, however, garnered ev-
er-greater political prominence and emerged a century and a half
later as the Safavid dynasty, which would rule Persia for two centu-
ries. During this political transformation, the original text was it-
self transformed in ways that served to underpin the later ideology
and self-image of the dynasty.30 Like other forms of pre-modern
26 On the Persian translation of the life of Abu-Eshâq Kâzaruni, see Iraj Af-
shâr, “Ferdows al-moršedīya fī asrâr al-ṣamadīyye,” in EIr, IX, pp. 511–12.
The manāqeb on Balyâni is entitled Meftâh al-hedâye va mesbâh al-enâye
(Key of Guidance and Lamp of Solicitude), ed. Emâd-al-Din Sheykh al-
Hokamâyi (Tehran, 1998).
27 See Hamid Algar, “Anīs al-ṭālebīn wa ʿoddat al-sālekin,” in EIr, II,
pp. 76–77.
28 See Matériaux pour la biographie de Shâh Niʿmatullâh Walí Kermâní, ed.
Jean Aubin (Tehran, 1956).
29 For a detailed, analytical study of Sufi manâqeb from this period, see
Shahzad Bashir, Sufi Bodies: Religion and Society in Medieval Islam (New
York, 2011).
30 See Roger Savory, “Ebn Bazzāz,” in EIr, VIII, p. 8, and Michel M. Maz-
zaoui, “A ‘New’ Edition of the Ṣafvat al-ṣafā,” in Judith Pfeiffer and Sholeh
A. Quinn, eds., History and Historiography of Post-Mongol Central Asia
352
Persian biography, Safvat al-safâ tells us much about not only

about the “biographee” and his life and times, but also the biogra-
pher and the context in which he wrote.
This period also witnessed the emergence of another form of
Sufi life writing—the malfuzât. Most full-life manâqeb are filled
with reports of the master’s sayings and conversations with others,
and disciples often recorded the oral teachings of their sheikh for
posterity. This was, for example, the likely origin of the Tabaqât
al-sufiyye attributed to Ansâri and Rumi’s Fihe mâ fih.31 This prac-
tice took on a distinctive form in the Chishti Sufi order of India.
The poet Amir-Hasan Sejzi Dehlavi (d. 1336) was a disciple of the
head of this order, Nezâm-al-Din Owliyâ (d. 1325), and began to
record his meetings with the sheikh. The result was the Favâ’ed
al-fo’âd (Morals for the Heart), a diary-like record of 188 teaching
sessions over the course of fifteen years.32 This text inaugurated
the genre known as malfuzât (things uttered), which would con-
tinue to develop within the Indo-Persian Chishti tradition for the
next century and privilege the direct and realistic report of first-
hand conversation. Although it was eventually absorbed into more
conventional manâqeb hagiographies, malfuzât vividly depict the
content, rituals, and interpersonal dynamics of the oral, face-to-
face teachings of these spiritual masters.33
Two longer manâqeb deserve special attention due to the nature
of their subjects. Though Jalâl-al-Din Rumi and Abd-al-Rahmân
Jâmi are more famous today as poets than as Sufi saints, both were
supplied with eulogistic biographies by their followers. The differ-
ences between the two works are instructive. Shams-al-Din Ahmad
Aflâki’s Manâqeb al-ârefin (Virtues of the Gnostics) was written
and the Middle East: Studies in Honor of John E. Woods (Wiesbaden, 2006),
pp. 303–10.
31 Franklin D. Lewis, Rumi, Past and Present, East and West: The Life, Teach-
ings and Poetry of Jalâl al-Din Rumi (Oxford, 2000), p. 292.
32 See Nezâm-al-Din Owliyâ, Favâ’ed al-fo’ âd, tr. Bruce B. Lawrence as Mor-
als for the Heart: Conversations of Shaykh Nizam ad-Din Awliya Recorded
by Amir Hasan Sijzi (New York, 1992).
33 For the history of this genre, see Carl W. Ernst, Eternal Garden: Mysticism,
History, and Politics at a South Asian Sufi Center (Albany, N. Y., 1992),
pp. 61–84.
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PERSIAN PROSE
with the assistance of Rumi’s descendants and completed some

eighty years after his death. It closely resembles other manâqeb in
both structure and content. A multitude of individual, self-stand-
ing anecdotes are held together by only “the thinnest shadow of a
plot,” but through “an accumulation of stylized perspectives and
circumstantial detail … [they provide] a vivid portrait of a par-
ticular medieval culture and mentality.”34 Elements of the mirac-
ulous proliferate. Not surprisingly, what distinguishes the work
from other works in the genre is the prominence of poetry, which
is presented both diegetically as part of the narrative and as sum-
marizing interjections by the narrator. The Maqâmât‑e Jâmi, on
the other hand, was written within a few years of Jâmi’s death by a
close companion, Abd-al-Vâse’ Nezâmi Bâkharzi (d. 1503). As in
Manâqeb al-‘ârefin, samples of poetry appear throughout the work.
The contexts in which they are cited, however, seldom partake in
the supernatural. Much of the book consists instead of Jâmi’s com-
ments on spiritual and political events of the time, and these are
largely reports of conversations that the author or other contem-
poraries had with the poet. This naturalistic, first-hand reporting
is generally more characteristic of biographies of poets than Sufis.
3. The Poetic Tradition: Precedents and Developments
Of the 400 or so works listed under the heading of biography in the

standard bibliographic survey of Persian literature, nearly 300 are
devoted to either mystics or poets.35 There are a few works devoted
to other masters of the pen, such as Qâzi Ahmad Qommi’s tadh-
kere of calligraphers and painters (composed ca. 1606).36 Even rarer
34 Shams-al-Din Ahmad Aflâki, Manâqeb al-ârefin, tr. John O’Kane as The

Feats of the Knowers of God (Manāqeb al-ʿārefin) (Leiden, 2002), p. xix.
35 See Storey, PL, I/2.
36 Qâzi Ahmad Qommi, Golestân‑e honar: tadhkere-ye khôshnevisân va
naqqâshân, ed. Ahmad Soheyli-Khwânsâri (Tehran, 1973); tr. V. Minorsky
as Calligraphers and Painters: A Treatise by Qāḍī Aḥmad, Son of Mīr-Mun-
shī (Washington, DC, 1959).
354
are biographical compendiums devoted exclusively to those who

wielded the pen in government service; one of the few pre-modern
works of note is Dastur al-vozarâ (The Rule of the Viziers) writ-
ten by the historian Khwândamir in 1509.37 The tadhkere that em-
braces the widest group of social and professional classes is Majâles
al-mo’menin (Assemblies of the Believers) by Nur-Allâh Shushtari
composed between 1585 and 1592. This work includes biographies
of people from the days of the Prophet to the present and includes
chapters covering not only Sufis and poets (both Arab and Persian),
but also religious scholars, philosophers, kings, governors, viziers,
and calligraphers. The criteria of selection is not profession, but
sectarian affiliation—all those included are (in principle) Shi’ites.38
For the most part, however, such a broad professional range is
found not in tadhkeres, but rather in the biographical chapters or
sections that are included in many histories. Biographies might be
integrated into histories in several ways. A separate chapter might
be set aside for biographies, typically at the end of the account of a
particular ruler’s reign. In the first book of Eskandar Beyg Mon-
shi’s Târikh‑e âlamârâ-ye Abbâsi (World-adorning History of
Abbâs), for example, biographies of religious dignitaries, admin-
istrators, physicians, calligraphers, artists, poets, and musicians of
the time of Shah Tahmâsp follow the story of his death. In chron-
icle histories, the account of a year will often conclude with obit-
uary biographies of various people of note, a structure found in
the second book of Âlamârâ-ye Abbâsi and elsewhere.39 One of
the earliest surviving Persian histories to set aside significant space
for biography is Hamd-Allâh Mostowfi’s Târikh‑e gozide (Select
History, 1330), in which the fifth book (bâb) contains six chap-
ters of brief biographical notices on imams, Qur’an readers, Had-
ith transmitters, Sufi sheikhs, religious scholars, and poets. These
biographies go back to the earliest days of Islamic civilization, but
37 Storey, PL, II/2, pp. 1090–91.

38 Storey, PL, I/2, pp. 1126–30.
39 Eskandar Beyg Monshi, Târikh‑e âlamârâ-ye Abbâsi, tr. Roger Savory as
History of Shah ‘Abbas the Great (2 vols., Boulder, Colo., 1978), I, pp. 229–
82 and II, pp. 666, 707–9, and 1005–7. See also Sholeh Quinn, “Historio
graphy, vi. Safavid Period,” in EIr, XII, pp. 363–67.
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often include little more than the subject’s place of origin and date
of death.40 By definition, biographical compendiums explicitly de-
voted to poets do not cover the same range of learned men, but so
central is poetry to Persian culture generally that such tadhkeres,
especially after the 15th century, usually encompass a broad so-
cial horizon. Besides professional poets, anyone with the slightest
pretense to education could compose a few verses, and the rolls of
poets included members of all social classes from the nobility to
merchants and craftsmen.
The first work in this poetic biographical tradition to use the
word tadhkere in its title is Dowlatshâh Samarqandi’s Tadhkerat
al-sho’arâ (Memorial of Poets). Composed in 1487, the work col-
lects biographies of some 140 poets starting from the re-emergence
of Persian as a poetic language in the 10th century with the life of
Rudaki (d. 941) and continuing up to Dowlatshâh’s own time. Fol-
lowing the Arabic model for structuring biographical compendi-
ums,41 these five centuries of poetry are divided into seven chrono-
logical tabaqât containing about twenty poets each. These levels,
according to Dowlatshâh, correspond to the seven spheres of the
Ptolemaic heavens and thus map the entire poetic universe. Though
not without precedent, Tadhkerat al-sho’arâ does appear at a cru-
cial moment in the consolidation of the Persian literary tradition
and the formation of its canon42 and would initiate the tradition of
works on the collective lives of poets that would flourish into the
20th century.
The biography of Amir Shâhi Sabzavâri, the first poet of the
seventh tabaqe, indicates some general features of Dowlatshâh’s
biographies. All begin with a laudatory assessment of the poet’s
stature and achievements, and Amir Shâhi’s high reputation on the
contemporary literary scene unleashes Dowlatshâh’s full rhetori-
cal arsenal:
40 Hamd-Allâh Mostowfi, Târikh‑e Gozide, ed. Abd-al-Hoseyn Navâ’i (2nd

ed., Tehran, 1983), pp. 624–757.
41 Note, for example, Tabaqât al-sho’arâ al-mohdathin by Ebn-al-Mo’tazz (d.
908).
42 Paul E. Losensky, Welcoming Fighānī: Imitation and Poetic Individuality
in the Safavid-Mughal Ghazal (Costa Mesa, Calif., 1998), pp. 145–54.
356
The learned are agreed that the passion of Amir Khosrow, the sub-
tleties of Hasan Dehlavi, the delicacy of Kamâl Khojandi, and the
clear language of Hâfez Shirâzi are gathered together in the words
of Amir Shâhi, and these subtleties are sufficient for him to pursue
brevity and concision. Words few and pointed are best.
A bouquet of roses that pampers the nose is sweeter
than the harvest of a hundred other plants.43
An Arabic proverb and line of verse are deployed not as mere
adornment, but to justify placing the poet among literary immor-
tals when he wrote so few poems. Only after this literary-critical
assessment does Dowlatshâh proceed to the factual particulars. He
gives the poet’s full name (Âq Malek b. Malek Jamâl-al-Din) and
identifies his place of birth and his family background. Such infor-
mation is commonly found in the biographies of poets, but Amir
Shâhi’s circumstances are unusual. As a noble descendent of the
Sarbadâr dynasty that ruled the area in Khorasan around Sabzavar
in the previous century, he is able to remain largely aloof from the
economy of royal patronage. Dowlatshâh “documents” this inde-
pendence from courtly service by telling an anecdote about Amir
Shâhi’s relationship with the Timurid prince Bâysonghor (d. 1433).
The prince shows kindness to the dispossessed nobleman-poet, re-
turns his lost properties, and admits him to his intimate circle. But
one day on a hunt, Bâysonghor disparages Amir Shâhi’s father, and
the poet foreswears any future attendance on kings and sultans.
This incident, we are told, took place when the two were alone to-
gether, so we can justly ask how Dowlatshâh could quote the exact
words spoken. The incident is more important for its dramatic im-
pact than for the empirical particulars, an evidentiary issue com-
mon to poetic tadhkeres.
In any case, Amir Shâhi retires to his family holdings in Sa-
bzavar and takes up agriculture; his estate becomes a gathering
place for learned men and artists, as well as various members of
43 Dowlatshâh Samarqandi, Tadhkerat al-sho’arâ, ed. Fâteme Alâqe (Tehran,

2006), p. 771. The poets mentioned here are all recognized masters of the
lyric ghazal from the previous century and died in 1325, 1336, 1400, and
1390, respectively.
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the ruling class. He is praised not only for his poetry, but for his
character and many other accomplishments in calligraphy, paint-
ing, and music. He is a man of culture, outside the rules of political
hierarchy. Dowlatshâh then quotes three of Shâhi’s ghazals, one
of which is incongruously dedicated to the Timurid prince Abu’l-
Qâsem Bâbor b. Bahâdor (d. 1447). Following these samples of his
poetry, the notice concludes by recording when and where Amir
Shâhi died (in Astarâbâd in 1453) and where he was buried (in the
family shrine in Sabzavar) and by naming some other contempo-
rary poets.44
Critical assessment, place of birth, family background, patrons,
date and place of death (unless the subject is still living), and selec-
tions from the poet’s works—these are all common features of the bi-
ographical notices collected in poetic tadhkeres. Less common are the
two addenda that Dowlatshâh appends to his notice on Amir Shâhi.
The first explains how Bâysonghor had to give up the penname Shâhi
due to the poet’s fame. In the second, Dowlatshâh gives an extended
account of the career of the prince Abu’l-Qâsem Bâbor, including
samples of the poetry written by and about him.45 Such historical
asides are peculiar to Dowlatshâh’s tadhkere, but do indicate the close
connections between tadhkeres and other forms of historical writing.
In the introduction to Tadhkerat al-sho’arâ, Dowlatshâh claims
to have opened a new field of literary endeavor:
To write the poets’ lives and strive to fix the poets’ worth … Men of
learning, notwithstanding their skill and attainments, have not con-
descended to take this trouble.46
Dowlatshâh’s enterprise was not entirely unprecedented, how-
ever, and he cites some 37 works (mostly histories) in the course of
his tadhkere, including Târikh‑e gozida, mentioned above.47 The
44 Dowlatshâh Samarqandi, Tadhkerat al-sho’arâ, pp. 771–77.
45 Dowlatshâh Samarqandi, Tadhkerat al-sho’arâ, pp. 777–90. For transla-
tions of Dowlatshâh’s accounts of other Timurid rulers, see Browne, LHP,
III, pp. 499–503.
46 Edward G. Browne, “The Sources of Dawlatshāh: With Some Remarks on
the Materials Available for a Literary History of Persian, and an Excursus
of Bārbad and Rūdakī,” JRAS (1899), p. 44.
47 Browne, “The Sources of Dawlatshāh,” pp. 38–43.
358
closest of these in purpose and structure to Tadhkerat al-sho’arâ

was probably Manâqeb al-sho’arâ by Abu Tâher Khâtuni, which
dates from the end of the 11th century, but no longer survives.48
Dowlatshâh did not have access to what is now the oldest sur-
viving text containing a substantial number of poets’ biographies,
Mohammad Owfi’s Lobâb al-albâb (Essence of Hearts) composed
in India in 1221. After opening the first book with four short initial
chapters on the nature of poetry and the first poets in Arabic and
Persian, Owfi devotes three chapters to kings, administrators, and
scholars who composed poetry, including about 120 biographies in
all. He thus establishes the pervasiveness of poetry in society and
shows how the ruling class not only invested in poetry through
patronage, but was also invested in poetry through participation.
In the second book, Owfi gives notices of some 165 professional
poets in the final five chapters of the Lobâb. These are organized
chronologically and grouped by the dynasties they served, which
are in turn subdivided geographically.49
But it is questionable whether Lobâb al-albâb is best charac-
terized as a biographical compendium at all. It lacks almost any
details on its subjects’ lives, and the prose portions of the entries
often consist of little more than a chain of laudatory epithets:
Am’aq was the master of the poets of his age, and he was right to
claim a magical power in writing poetry. Whatever is sweet and nat-
ural in his poetry is extremely flowing and graceful, and whatever
is written with artifice has thrown all the masters into bewilder-
ment. It is the consensus of all the poets that no one before him has
composed the like of the few verses that he composed at the start
of this ode (qaside), and no one has been able to compose their like
after him.50
This passage is followed immediately by the first of six extended
quotations from his poetry. As a whole, the Lobâb should perhaps
48 Ahmad Golchin-Ma’âni, Târikh‑e tadhkere-hâ-ye Fârsi (2nd ed., 2 vols.,
Tehran, 1984), II, pp. 294–302.
49 Browne, LHP, I, p. 451.
50 Mohammad Owfi, Lobâb al-albâb, ed. Edward G. Browne and Moham-
mad Qazvini (2 vols., London and Leiden, 1903–6), II, p. 181. Am’aq was
active in Bukhara and died c. 1148.
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be better “regarded as a vast anthology than as a biography.”51

Without going to this extreme, most tadhkeres tend to devote far
more space to selections of poetry than to biographical informa-
tion. It is the words that they have spoken that make people worthy
of inclusion in a poetic tadhkere in the first place.
In this regard, biographical compendiums of poets merge with
the poetry anthology. Known by a variety of names—safine, jong,
or bayâz—few of these anthologies have been published, and the
genre has yet to be studied in detail. But the number and variety of
anthologies preserved in manuscript indicates the substantial role
that they played in the “workings of literature.”52 Some antholo-
gies appear to have served as personal notebooks and miscellanea,
such as the two-volume Bayâz‑e Bidel preserved at the British Li-
brary.53 But others were clearly designed for broader public circu-
lation, such as the Safina or Jong‑e Sâ’eb, which survives in at least
five manuscript copies and seems designed specifically to under-
write and promote the poetics of the Safavid-Mughal Fresh Style
(shive-ye tâze).54 While this anthology embraces the entire history
of Persian poetry, other anthologies can be restricted to a single
period.55 Still others, like the early fourteenth-century anthology
Nozhat al-majâles (Delight of Gatherings) of Jamâl Khalil Shervâni,
collect poetry in a single form, in this case, the robâ’i or quatrain.56
The close connection between the two genres allowed Mohammad
Sufi Mâzandarâni’s anthology Bot-khâne (Idol Temple) to be eas-
ily transformed into the brief (and haphazard) tadhkere, Kholâsat
51 Browne, LHP, I, p. 451.

52 J. T. P. de Bruijn, “Mukhtārāt. 2. In Persian Literature,” in EI2 , VII, p. 529.
53 Charles Rieu, Catalogue of the Persian Manuscripts in the British Museum
(3 vols., London, 1879–83), II, pp. 737–8 (Add. 16802–3).
54 Arhâm Morâdi, review of Safine-ye Sâ’eb, by Sayyed Sâdeq Hoseyni-Esh-
kavari, ed., Nâme-ye Bahârestân 11 (2010), pp. 289–94.
55 India Office MS 2678.1, for example, contains only the work of poets as-
sociated with the maktab‑e voqu’ (realist school) of the 16th century: Her-
mann Ethé, Catalogue of Persian Manuscripts in the Library of the India
Office (2 vols., Oxford, 1903–7), col. 952 (no. 1749).
56 Jamâl Khalil Shervâni, Nozhat al-majâles, ed. Mohammad Amin Riyâhi
(2nd ed., Tehran, 1996).
360
al-sho’arâ (Epitome of the Poets).57 The anthology and the tadhkere

serve similar purposes: preserving the poetic heritage, delineating
trajectories of literary history, defining a canon of work and poets,
and promoting certain standards of poetry or schools of poetics.
Though Tadhkerat al-sho’arâ may not have been as groundbreak-
ing or original as Dowlatshâh claimed, it nevertheless played a for-
mative role in the development of the tadhkere. As with tadhkeres
of Sufis, the late Timurid period set off an explosion of biograph-
ical compendiums of poets. Moreover, the expansion of poetry in
all levels of urban society, encouraged by a primarily oral mode of
transmission and the general availability of elementary schooling,
led to the inclusion of amateur, occasional, and non-professional
poets. While continuing to memorialize the model lives and ca-
nonical poetry of an idealized classical past, the emphasis of the
tadhkere increasingly shifts to the continuity of that past in the
present and to giving “a picture, indeed a ‘remembrance,’ of literary
life in each author’s lifetime.”58
As the tradition develops to accommodate these new interests,
a variety of organizational principles emerge. We can broadly dis-
tinguish between general and restricted poetic tadhkeres. General
tadhkeres emulate Dowlatshâh’s ambition to encompass the en-
tire history of the poetic tradition and grow to massive size. But
chronology is only one factor in their presentation of the literary
tradition, and the greatest masters of the past increasingly come to
rub shoulders with the minor and part-time poets of the present.
Restricted tadhkeres limit their contents according to various cri-
teria—by period, patron, region, gender, or even genre. Brief exam-
inations of a few formative examples must suffice us here.
The turn of the 17th century witnessed the appearance of three of
the best-known examples of the general tadhkere, all of which were
completed in India by Iranian-born writers, but were organized
57 Golchin-Ma’âni, Târikh‑e tadhkere-hâ, I, pp. 590–97; Storey, PL, I/2,

pp. 806–808.
58 Maria Szuppe, “A Glorious Past and an Outstanding Present: Writing a
Collection of Biographies in Late Persianate Central Asia,” in Louise Mar-
low, ed., The Rhetoric of Biography: Narrating Lives in Persianate Societies
(Boston and Washington, D. C., 2011), p. 45.
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in different ways. Amin Ahmad Râzi’s Haft eqlim (Seven Climes,

1598) is strictly speaking a universal tadhkere; it includes biogra-
phies of rulers, scholars, and Sufis, as well as poets. As its title sug-
gests, its 1,560 entries are organized geographically, from south to
north, according to the traditional geographic division of the an-
cient world. The larger climes (in particular the third and fourth)
are further subdivided into cities or regions. These subdivisions
are prefaced by a brief topographical description, and within these
divisions, the biographies are organized in rough chronological or-
der. In the chapter on the fourth clime, for example, the section on
the city of Isfahan begins with an account of the location, name,
early history, and natural features of the city, based on the author-
ity of several earlier geographical works. Amin Ahmad does not
elaborate on the architectural features of the landscape, but instead
concludes with a famous poem celebrating the city by Khâqâni (d.
1199). The 68 biographies begin with the Prophet Mohammad’s
companion Salmân Fâresi, followed by several brief notices of
early Islamic scholars, before reaching the first extended biogra-
phy of the poet Nâser‑e Khosrow (d. ca. 1077), who is inexplicably
transplanted from his native region of Khorasan. After biographies
of other renowned Isfahani poets of earlier centuries—most nota-
bly the father and son, Jamâl-al-Din Abd-al-Razzâq (d. 1192) and
Kamâl-al-Din Esmâ’il (d. 1237)—the final 38 notices are devoted
to people from the 16th century. Although this group begins with a
political figure, Najm‑e Sâni, the minister of state for the first Sa-
favid shah, Esmâ’il, contemporary and near-contemporary poets
make up the vast majority of those represented.59 Throughout Haft
eqlim, the biographies of the poets are generally more fully elabo-
rated than those of other professional classes and make up the bulk
of the work, if only because of the ample inclusion of samples of
poetry. The effect of Amin Ahmad’s organization is to foreshorten
the historical perspective and to situate poetic practice in the geo-
graphical expanse of the Persianate world.
59 Amin Ahmad Râzi, Haft eqlim, ed. Mohammad-Rezâ Tâheri (3 vols., Teh-
ran, 1999), II, pp. 886–998.
362
Taqi-al-Din Kâshi’s Kholâsat al-ash’âr va zobdat al-afkâr (Sum-

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

pp. 803–5.
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introduction, he was born in 1565 and spent the first forty years
of his life travelling through the literary circles of Persia before
migrating to India in 1606, where he split his time between Gujarat
and Agra. The Arafât began as a poetic anthology, which Owhadi
was then encouraged to expand into a tadhkere. Like Taqi-al-Din,
Owhadi combined voluminous reading of earlier sources with his
own first-hand experience to present a comprehensive history of
Persian poetry that integrated literary past and present.61
Comparing the biography of the poet Shakibi of Isfahan in these
three tadhkeres shows how the point of view and values of the au-
thors shape their portrayal of a contemporary subject. Amin Ah-
mad begins with pairs of rhyming epithets praising Shakibi’s pure
genius (tab’‑e pâk-ash) and perceptive mind (dhehn‑e darrâk-ash).
Two sentences suffice to summarize Shakibi’s accomplishments,
education, and extensive travels before Amin Ahmad highlights
the professional high point of the poet’s career. After he arrived
in “this land” (in diyâr), Shakibi joined the court of Abd-al-Rahim
Khân‑e Khânân and was richly reward for writing a sâqi-nâma
(cupbearer’s song) in his honor, of which Amin Ahmad quotes
65 verses. “This land” refers not to Isfahan, the textual and geo-
graphical location where Shakibi’s biography is situated due to his
birth, but rather to India where Amin Ahmad is writing. Despite
the systematic geography of Haft eqlim, a localized authorial point
of view dictates the focus of Amin Ahmad’s biography.62 By con-
trast, Taqi-al-Din focuses primarily on Shakibi’s youth in Isfahan,
where his biography is placed according to the structural logic of
the khâteme of the Kholâsât. The poet’s father, we are told, was
a religious jurist, but his son took up a life of pleasure, poetry,
travel, and spiritual exploration. Taqi-al-Din dwells at length on
the paradox that the son’s turn away from the father is, in fact, what
serves to preserve the family name, and his general musings on the
61 For a list of Owhadi’s sources, see Golchin-Ma’âni, Târikh‑e tadhkere-hâ,

II, p. 7; on the Arafât more generally, see Golchin-Ma’âni, Târikh‑e tadh-
kere-hâ, II, pp. 1–24 and Storey, PL, I/2, pp. 808–11.
62 Amin Ahmad Râzi, Haft eqlim, II, pp. 976–77. As we will see below, the
patron and genre of Shakibi’s poem would lead to his inclusion in two other
restricted tadhkeres, Ma’ âther‑e Rahimi and Tadhkere-ye meykhâne.
364
inheritance of temperament take up over half the entry. He makes

no mention of Shakibi’s residence in India, and although he quotes
twice as many verses as Amin Ahmad, none come from his sâqi-
nâme. 63 As the latest work written, Owhadi’s Arafât al-âsheqin
contains the fullest account of Shakibi’s life and career. Twice in
this entry, Owhadi situates his authorial position vis-à-vis his sub-
ject. He tells us that he kept company with the young Shakibi for
five or six years when they were both living in Shiraz, and he later
records the date he is writing (Rajab 1023/August 1614) when he
learns of the poet’s death earlier in the year. Owhadi begins his
narrative of Shakibi’s life with the high point of his professional
career in the court of Abd-al-Rahim, but backtracks to discuss his
earlier travels and his ancestry, concluding with his final service
as administrative head (sadârat) of Delhi under the Mughal em-
peror Jahângir. Though Owhadi began Shakibi’s biography with
a rhymed phrase characterizing him as “informed of the arts of
meaning and the wonders of poetry” (mostahzer‑e fonun‑e ma’âni
va badâye’‑e sokhandâni), he ends with the more critical assess-
ment that Shakibi “did not have full power in composing poetry.”
Owhadi nevertheless quotes as many verses as Taqi-al-Din and
lavishes special praise on Shakibi’s skills in conversation and so-
cial concourse.64 These three accounts differ in their emphasis and
scope of information, but share a concern for placing Shakibi in a
social network (of patronage, family, or personal affiliation) and
system of values (economic, genealogical, or artistic).
All later general tadhkeres, such as Vâleh Dâghestâni’s Riyâz
al-sho’arâ (Garden of Poets, 1748, containing 2,594 biographies),
Loft-Ali Beyg Âzar’s Âtashkade-ye Âzar (Âzar’s Fire Temple,
ca. 1766 with later additions, 845 biographies), and Ali Ebrâhim
63 Taqi-al-Din Kâshâni, Kholâsat al-ash’ âr va zobdat al-afkâr (Bakhsh‑e

Esfahân), ed. Abd-al-Ali Adib Borumand and Mohammad Hoseyn Nasi-
ri-Kahnamu’i (Tehran, 2007), pp. 355–68.
64 Taqi-al-Din Mohammad Owhadi Daqâqi Balyâni, Tadhkere-ye Arafât
al-âsheqin va arasât al-ârefin, ed. Sayyed Mohsen Nâji Nasrâbâdi (7 vols.,
Tehran, 2009), III, pp. 2032–9. Shakibi’s sociability apparently led to his
inclusion in a wide range of other histories and tadhkeres: see Ahmad Gol-
chin-Ma’âni, Kârvân‑e Hend (2 vols., Mashhad, 1990), I, pp. 638–44.
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Khân Khalil’s Sohof‑e Ebrâhim (Ebrâhim’s Pages, 1790, 3,278 bi-

ographies), are heavily dependent on these works, especially Arafât
al-âsheqin, for both their organization and content.65 Nevertheless,
all continue to update the poetic record, integrating their contem-
poraries into the rolls of the literary tradition. Even the treatment
of earlier poets, through subtle changes in content, emphasis, and
presentation, can serve to rewrite the tradition in accordance with
the author’s tastes and poetics. Examining the development of the
biography of Bâbâ Feghâni of Shiraz (d. 1519) over the course of
four centuries, for example, reveals his growing importance to later
poets and his careful positioning in the poetic canon. A century
after the initial reports on his life, Owhadi adds an anecdote about
the young Feghâni’s visit to the Timurid court at Herat and his
rejection by the poets there. This historically unlikely story con-
tributes to Owhadi’s presentation of Feghâni as a poetic innova-
tor ahead of his time whose significance could only be recognized
decades after his death. One hundred and fifty years later, Vâleh
takes Feghâni’s biography as an occasion for reviewing the devel-
opment of Persian poetry over the preceding three centuries with
Feghâni firmly established as a key canonical figure in this process.66
As with Sufi tadhkeres, poetic tadhkeres are perhaps as important
as documents of the time when they were written as of the time
they memorialize.
As general tadhkeres come to devote greater attention to the lit-
erary present, many tadhkeres restricted by period set aside the
past entirely and deal exclusively with the biographies of contem-
porary poets. The inaugural work of this type of tadhkere was an-
other product of the late Timurid court in Khorasan. Mir Ali-Shir
Navâ’i’s Majâles al-nafâyes (Assemblies of the Refined, ca. 1491)
was originally written in Chaghatay Turkish. Most of the biogra-
phies, however, are of poets who wrote in Persian, and the Majâles
was soon translated. Navâ’i’s authorial perspective dictates the or-
ganization of his tadhkere. The first three chapters divide poets
65 On these works, see Golchin-Ma’âni, Târikh‑e tadhkere-hâ, I, pp. 650–66;
I, pp. 3–17; and I, pp. 759–63, respectively; and Storey, PL, I/2, pp. 830–33;
I/2, pp. 868–73; and I/2, p. 877, respectively.
66 For further details, see Losensky, Welcoming Fighānī, pp. 17–55.
366
according to whether or not Ali-Shir had met them and whether

they were still living at the time he wrote. In the final five chap-
ters, the temporal-personal perspective gives way to the social-geo-
graphical; poets are grouped according to whether or not they are
from Khorasan and to their position in the social hierarchy, as-
cending from learned men who occasionally wrote poetry to no-
blemen, to members of the Timurid royal house, and finally to the
ruler Sultan Hoseyn Bâyqarâ, whose government was largely ad-
ministered by the author himself. The two earliest Persian transla-
tions, completed in 1521 and 1522, preserve this structure, but add
material to bring the work up to date. Fakhri Haravi’s translation,
Latâyef-nâme (Book of Subtleties), was also written in Herat and
adds a chapter on living poets who were not included in the orig-
inal. In the translation prepared in Istanbul by Hakim-Shâh Mo-
hammad Qazvini, Sultan Hoseyn is moved to the seventh chapter,
and the eighth chapter instead culminates with the poets associ-
ated with the court of the Ottoman sultan Salim, shifting the work
politically and geographically while retaining its organizational
principles.67
Majâles al-nafâyes had its most direct influence on tadhkeres
written in Central Asia. Sayyed Hasan Nesâri Bokhâri modeled
his Modhakker‑e ahbâb (Remembering Friends, 1567) on the first
three chapters of the Majâles. Four chapters divide the contempo-
rary poets of Bukhara into the deceased and the living and those
known and those unknown to the author. This author-oriented
perspective is reinforced by a conclusion that deals with mem-
bers of Nesâri’s family.68 Changing the verbal noun tadhkere to
the active participle modhakker aptly marks the turn to the pres-
ent. Writing at about the same time as Nesâri, the Safavid prince
Sâm Mirzâ, younger brother of Shah Tahmâsp, constructed his
tadhkere of contemporary poets, Tohfe-ye Sâmi (Sâm’s Gift, ca.
1550), according to another principle seen in Navâ’i’s Majâles—so-
cial hierarchy. The work begins with a chapter on his father, Shah
67 See Ali-Shir Navâ’i, Tadhkere-ye Majâles al-nafâyes [Two 16 th Century
Persian Translations], ed. Ali-Asghar Hekmat (Tehran, 1984).
68 For further development of the Central Asian tradition, see Szuppe, “A
Glorious Past.”
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Esmâ’il, and other royalty, and proceeds through religious digni-

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

70 See, for example, Mohammad Tâher Nasrâbâdi, Tadhkere-ye Nasrâbâdi, ed.
Mohsen Tâji Nasrâbâdi (2 vols., Tehran, 1999), I, p. 343.
368
includes detailed notices on 106 poets who were associated with his
court. Such a patron-centered approach is generally more common
in the Mughal realm than other parts of the Persianate world.71
Other criteria are less frequently used to define the range of po-
etic tadhkeres. Some collect biographies of poets from a certain
region. As its title indicates, the eighteenth-century Tadhkere-ye
sho’arâ-ye Kashmir (Tadhkere of the Poets of Kashmir) by Aslah
Kashmiri Mirzâ is limited to poets who were either born in Kashmir
or visited the region, including some 300 poets in all. This served
as a model for a far more detailed work of the same name by the
modern scholar Hosâm-al-Din Râshedi.72 Another location-based
compilation that demonstrates the continuity of the tadhkere tra-
dition into the 20th century is Kârvân‑e Hend (Caravan to India)
by Ahmad Golchin-Ma’âni. Gathering together biographical no-
tices from a wide range of published and unpublished sources, this
work is restricted by the movement between two regions, embrac-
ing some 750 Iranian-born poets who traveled to India. The crite-
rion of place points toward another generic blend. Local histories
usually define a city or region in terms of the people who lived
there and often include sections devoted entirely to the biographies
of various classes of residents, prominently including poets.73
Less common than tadhkeres restricted by period, patron, and
place are tadhkeres restricted by gender or genre. Pre-modern lit-
erary culture was homosocial, and by default most tadhkeres are
male oriented. Gender-restricted tadhkeres are thus those devoted
to women poets. The earliest known example is Fakhri Haravi’s
Javâher al-ajâ’eb (Jewels of Wonder, 1556), containing notices on
71 Golchin-Ma’âni, Târikh‑e tadhkere-hâ, II, pp. 746–56. For an example of a

similar treatment of poets from the reign of Shâh Jahân, see Golchin-Ma’âni,
Târikh‑e tadhkere-hâ, II, pp. 682–84 (Amal‑e sâleh).
72 Mohammad Aslah, Tadhkere-ye sho’arâ-ye Kashmir, ed. Hosâm al-Din
Râshedi (Karachi, 1967); Hosâm al-Din Râshedi, Tadhkere-ye sho’arâ-ye
Kashmir: Takmile-ye Tadhkere-ye sho’arâ-ye Kashmir‑e Mohammad Aslah
Mirzâ (4 vols., Karachi, 1967).
73 For example, the entire third volume of Jâme’‑ e Mofidi, a history of Yazd
completed in 1679, is devoted to biographical notices; poets appear in the
ninth chapter of the second section: Mohammad Mofid Mostowfi Bâfqi,
Jâme‑e Mofidi, ed. Iraj Afshâr (3 vols., Tehran, 2006), II, pp. 422–70.
369
PERSIAN PROSE
25 women poets.74 Changes in women’s role in society in the 19th

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

the author and often inscribe this point of view into the text it-
self by including an account of the author’s own life. Both Tadh-
kere-ye Nasrâbâdi and Tadhkere-ye meykhâne, for example, in-
clude lengthy notices on the authors themselves.76 Though the
self-reflexive perspective of autobiography never coalesces into a
clearly defined genre, the Persian tradition does offer some nota-
ble instances of writing one’s own life. The most well-known is
the memoir of the founder of the Mughal dynasty, Zahir-al-Din
Mohammad Bâbor (d. 1530). Another product of late Timurid cul-
ture and, like Navâ’i’s Majâles, originally written in Chaghatay
74 See Maria Szuppe, “The ‘Jewels of Wonder’: Learned Ladies and Princess
Politicians in the Provinces of Early Safavid Iran,” in G. R. G. Hambly, ed.,
Women in the Medieval Islamic World (New York, 1999), pp. 325–45.
75 See Golchin-Ma’âni, Târikh‑e tadhkere-hâ, I, pp. 394–97; for other nine-
teenth-century tadhkeres on women, see Sunil Sharma, “From ‘Ā’esha to
Nur Jahān: The Shaping of a Classical Persian Poetic Canon of Women,”
Journal of Persianate Studies 2 (2009), pp. 148–164.
76 Fakhr-al-Zamâni Qazvini, Meykhâne, pp. 758–83; Nasrâbâdi, Tadhkere-ye
Nasrâbâdi, II, pp. 665–77.
370
Turkish, Bâbor-nâme or Vâqe’ât‑e Bâbori gives a journal-like ac-

count of the events in the author’s life (with several long gaps) from
1494–1529. This narrative contains numerous asides on ethical and
aesthetic matters, and following the mention of Sultan Hoseyn’s
death in 1506, even includes a mini-tadhkere of the poets and nota-
bles of his court.77 Even as Bâbor was writing the work, a member
of his entourage began translating it into Persian and other trans-
lations followed later in the 16th century.78 Bâbor’s model appar-
ently inspired similar political memoirs by other members of the
Mughal royal house. Homâyun-nâme was written by the Emperor
Humâyun’s sister, Golbadan Begom, apparently at his son Akbar’s
request,79 and Bâbor’s great-grandson, the Emperor Jahângir, kept
his own semi-public diary, Jahângir-nâme (or Tuzok‑e Jahângiri)
over the first nineteen years of his reign from 1605–24.80 Since none
of these works attempts to give a coherent narrative from birth to
the time of writing, none can be considered autobiography in the
strict sense, but their first-person perspective on contemporary
events make them as much works of life writing as of history.
Poets also penned a number of such independent autobiograph-
ical memoirs. Again stemming from the late Timurid milieu is
Zeyn-al-Din Mahmud Vâsefi’s Badâye’ al-vaqâye’ (Marvels of
Events, ca. 1532–33). In it, the author presents detailed, first-hand
accounts of his experiences as a participant in the literary salons of
both Herat and, after his escape from the Safavid conquest of this
city, Bukhara, and other cities of Central Asia.81 Two and a half
centuries later, the poet Hazin Lâhiji (d. 1766) also gave an account
of his flight from a military invasion, describing his escape from
the Afghan conquest of Isfahan and his eventual refuge in India.
This work, known as Târikh‑e or Tadhkere-ye ahvâl (History or
77 Zahir-al-Din Mohammad Bâbor, Bâbor-nâme, tr. Wheeler M. Thackston
as The Baburnama: Memoirs of Babur, Prince and Emperor (New York,
2002), pp. 202–19.
78 Golchin-Ma’âni, Târikh‑e tadhkere-hâ, II, pp. 459–66.
79 Munibur Rahman, “Golbadan Bēgom,” in EIr, XI, pp. 64–65.
80 Nur-al-Din Mohammad Jahângir, Jahângir-nâme, tr. Wheeler M. Thack-
ston as The Jahangirnama: Memoirs of Jahangir, Emperor of India (Wash-
ington, DC, 1999).
81 Golchin-Ma’âni, Târikh‑e tadhkere-hâ, II, pp. 467–82.
371
PERSIAN PROSE
Memoir of [my] Circumstances, 1742), serves as almost an auto-

biographical introduction to his tadhkere of contemporary poets,
Tadhkerat al-mo’âserin, written ten years later.82 Finally, Bidel of
Dehli’s notoriously recondite Chahâr onsor (Four Elements, 1704)
is perhaps as close as the pre-modern Persian tradition comes to
a literary autobiography. Beginning with his childhood and his
teachers, Chahâr onsor includes accounts of the poet’s travels and
religious experiences interspersed with a wide variety of philo-
sophical and mystical disquisitions.83
5. Conclusions
Rezâ Qoli Khân Hedâyat bridges the classical literary tradition

and the age of modern scholarship and seems to mark the end of a
tradition with major works in both the Sufi and poetic traditions of
collective biographies: Riyâz al-ârefin (Meadow of Gnostics, 1844)
and Majma’ al-fosahâ (Gathering of the Eloquent, 1868).84 But as
we have noted, tadhkere-like works are still being written, and
pre-modern Persian life writing continues to offers a vital resource
for modern scholarship open to many avenues of inquiry. Here we
can only indicate a few of the possible approaches to the array of
information presented by these complex and often hybrid genres.
Perhaps the most common scholarly use of the tadhkere and
the manâqeb today is to recast the information they contain into
framework of modern biography. Comparative, critical reading of
the biographies of a specific individual strives to sift through all
available sources to produce consistent, continuous, and empiri-
cally plausible life narrative, establishing significant dates, actions,
and achievements from an ostensibly non-judgmental point of
view. This procedure, typified by today’s biographical encyclope-
dia entry, would be familiar to many tadhkere authors, who often
gathered and weighed diverse sources, both written and oral, to
82 Storey, PL, I/2, pp. 840–49.
83 Sharif Husain Qasemi, “Čahār onṣor,” in EIr, IV, pp. 623–24.
84 Golchin-Ma’âni, Târikh‑e tadhkere-hâ, II, pp. 810–11 and II, pp. 144–53.
372
establish the most reliable and accurate account of their subjects.

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

from its collectivity and the empirical facts from their presenta-
tional framework, modern scholars ignore the frameworks of value
and signification that give these lives meaning. Although the prev-
alence of biography seems to imply an author-centered approach to
poetry or an approach to religion based on extraordinary spiritual
virtuosos, the typical modes of Persian biographical writing rather
suggest that the individual actor is always embedded in a network
of social behavior across time. Individuals are active participants
in patterns of affiliation, both within a certain chain of succession
or within a certain literary style. These considerations encourage
studies of topics such as social networks (prosopography), patterns
of behavior (normative ethics), or systems of cultural, literary, or
religious beliefs and values (historical anthropology or reception
studies). The latter two areas of inquiry in particular require at-
tentiveness not just to the narrative life stories of the biographical
subjects, but also to the words they speak. The biographies of both
Sufis and poets place as much, if not more, emphasis on the words
of their subject as on their deeds; the words spoken and heard in
public acts of communication are what justify the inclusion of an
individual in the collective memory and justify the very writing of
tadhkeres and manâqeb. How these words are selected, presented,
and evaluated opens up not only the unfolding history of a field of
verbal discourse, but also the evolving vision of language, human
nature, society, and the world in which these words are embedded
and to which they give meaning.
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378
CHAPTER 8
STORIES AND TALES:

ENTERTAINMENT AS LITERATURE
Mehran Afshari1
For the purposes of classification, pre-modern prose stories in Per-

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

Ashtiany for undertaking its translation.
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PERSIAN PROSE
storytellers, and professional narrators (naqqâlân), while short

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

Narrators (naqqâls)
There is evidence from pre-Islamic Iran, at least as early as the era of

the Arsacids, for the existence of storytellers, called gôsân (minstrels),
entertaining both the public at large and the royal court with their
stories and songs, accompanied by music.2 In contemporary Iran, pro-
fessional musician-story tellers whose stories are told accompanied by
musical accompaniments and chants still exist. They are called by dif-
ferent names in different regions. For example, in Azerbaijan they are
âsheq(s).3 The same word is used in Kurdistan where the long narra-
tives are known as beyt(s), and in Mâzanderân they are called mirzâ(s).4
In spite of all these examples from adjacent traditions, we have
no evidence that the naqqâlân, who recited Persian stories in prose
and not in verse, accompanied them with songs or music. This
observation goes against the theory that naqqâli is an offshoot of
the ancient tradition of gôsâns, along with the subsequent local
2 Mary Boyce, “The Parthian gōsān and Iranian Minstrel Tradition,” JRAS
(1957), pp. 9–45.
3 For further information, see Charlotte C. Albright. “ʿĀšeq,” in EIr, II,
pp. 741–42.
4 For further information, see K. Yamamoto, “Naqqâli: Professional Iranian
Storytelling” in Ph. G. Kreyenbroek and U. Marzolph, eds., Oral Literature
of Iranian Languages: Kurdish, Pashto, Balochi, Ossetic, Persian and Tajik,
HPL XVIII Companion Vol. II (London, 2010), Chapter 10, pp. 240–57.
380
Stories and Tales: Entertainment as Literature
traditions of storytelling accompanied by music in different re-

gions of Iran as described above. The Persian naqqâli appears to be
quite a different phenomenon.
In the opinion of the present writer, some of the characteris-
tics of present-day naqqâli in Iran have some precedence in an-
cient Iran and elsewhere. This includes the habit of holding in their
hand a short teaching-baton while narrating a story,5 which can
be compared with the practice of Arab orators in the 8th and 9th
centuries, who, according to Jâhez (d. 869) would hold a stick or
a long-stemmed reed in their hand during their oration.6 There
are other similarities, too, in the way that in the beginning of
naqqâli stories after inserting the word ammâ (let us go on) they
begin with rhyming phrases such as râviyân‑e akhbâr va tutiyân‑e
shekar-shekan‑e shirin goftâr (narrators of news and sweet spoken
and eloquent parrots), which is reminiscent of the rhyming prose
of Arab orators as well as the fact that the Arab orators, after the
standard praise and eulogies of the Prophet, would start their ora-
tion (khotbe) with ammâ ba’d (“let us get on with the story”).
Turning to pre-Islamic Iran itself, it appears that there was indeed
a very ancient tradition of narrating heroic stories. This is reflected
in Samak‑e ayyâr, a Persian naqqâli narrative which was apparently
compiled and written down in the 12th century. It is so replete with
the popular beliefs and traditions of Iranians before the advent of
Islam, that it could be argued that it may well be based on a much
more ancient original narrative relating to pre-Islamic Iran.7
Abd-al-Jalil Qazvini Râzi, the 12th century author of Ketâb al-naqz
(Book of Refutation), a pro-Shi’ite polemical work, refers to street
entertainers in its pure Persian form of hengâme-gostarân (lit. those
who raise a tumult / gather a crowd around them; i. e., storytellers).
5 On the various tools of the trade for naqqâli, including the teaching stick
or rod (ta’limi), see my interview with the contemporary naqqâl, Morshed
Vali-Allâh Torâbi, in the preface to Mehran Afshâri and Mehdi Madâyeni,
eds., Haft lashkar (tumâr‑e jâme’‑e naqqâlân) az Kayumarth tâ Bahman
(Tehran, 1998), p. 27.
6 Abu Othmân Amr b. Bahr Jâhez, al-Bayân wa’l-tabyin, ed. Abd-al-Salâm
Mohammad Hârun (Beirut, 1948), p. 370.
7 Mehrdâd Bahâr, Jostâri chand dar farhang‑e Irân (Tehran, 1994), pp. 163–64.
381
PERSIAN PROSE
He points out that some of these entertainers related ancient Persian

stories such as those about Rostam, Sorkhâb (Sohrâb), Esfandiyâr,
Kâvus, and Zâl.8 Apparently owing to his Shi’ite sympathies and
hostility towards the Sunnis, the author regarded these entertainers
as Sunnis, thereby confronting the Shi’ite manâqeb-khwâns (public
narrators of laudable pious deeds by the Shi’ite Imams) who would
be reciting in the same public arenas their poems in praise of Imam
Ali, the first Shi’ite Imam and cousin and son-in-law of the Prophet.
In the 15th century, the prolific writer Hoseyn Vâ’ez Kâshefi
devoted a detailed and extensive chapter of his Fotovvat-nâme-ye
soltâni (The Royal Book of Chivalry) to street-entertainers, includ-
ing naqqâlân and storytellers.9 The fact that they are mentioned in
a book on fotovvat (devoted to the notions of chivalry and young
manliness with communal rituals) demonstrates the dependence of
these street-entertainers to groups and organizations that come un-
der the banner of fotovvat. With reference to this context, we can
appreciate the great frequency with which ayyârs are mentioned in
the stories of naqqâlân and itinerant storytellers and why one of
the most often repeated themes of their tales is the account of their
chivalrous deeds and ingenious tricks.10
Contrary to the claims of the author of Naqz, who had de-
scribed naqqâls and those who recited the eulogies of the Imams
(manâqeb-khwâns) as two opposing and rival groups, Fotov-
vat-nâme-ye soltâni presents them as one group, that of the
ma’rake-girân (itinerant street entertainers).11 Vâ’ez Kâshefi dis-
cusses both the manâqeb-khwâns (for whom he uses the collective
terms maddâhân and gharrâ-khwân) and the itinerant storytellers
under one heading of ahl‑e sokhan (those whose tools of trade are
words and speech).12 This terminology was carried out into the 19th
8 Abd-al-Jalil Qazvini Râzi, Naqz: ma’ruf be Ba’z mathâleb al-nawâseb fi

naqz fazâ’eh al-rawâfez, ed. Mir Jalâl-al-Din Ormavi (Tehran, 1979), p. 67.
9 Mowlânâ Hoseyn Vâ’ez Kâshefi Sabzavâri, Fotovvat-nâme-ye soltâni, ed.
Mohammad-Ja’far Mahjub (Tehran, 1971), pp. 275–343.
10 Regarding notions and themes of ayyâri in such stories, see Abd-al-Hoseyn
Zarrinkub, Az gozashte-ye adabi-ye Irân (3rd ed., Tehran, 2006), pp. 110–12.
11 Kâshefi Sabzavâri, Fotovvat-nâme-ye soltâni, pp. 280–92.
12 Kâshefi Sabzavâri, Fotovvat-nâme-ye soltâni, p. 280.
382
and early 20th centuries. According to Kâshefi, in the 15th century,

the street entertainer would sit on a stool in his arena, clutching a
battle axe, and would retell his stories in a mixture of prose and
verse. Generally, the stories were told in prose but at intervals, the
prose would be interrupted, and poems with similar themes would
be recited. At the end of each session, the story teller would ask for
money from the audience.13 In more recent times, these offerings of
money were referred to as cherâgh (light).14
Some people skilled at speedwriting would attend the naqqâli
sessions and take down verbatim what they heard from the
naqqâls. This explains why at times the exact words spoken by the
naqqâl to his audience, when he addressed them directly outside
the frame of the story itself, would appear in the manuscript copies
of naqqâli stories. For instance, at a certain stage in the Samak‑e
ayyâr story, we have the naqqâl telling his audience, “If you want
to learn what happened next to Samak, you should give me some
money. If you don’t have any, give me some sweets (sahni halvâ),
and if you cannot, recite a prayer for me.”15 Another example is
the naqqâl’s direction in the story of Hoseyn‑e Kord‑e Shabestari,
where he instructs his audience, “Listeners, now’s the time to vent
your ridicule (jây‑e shishaki-st)!”16 These show that someone adept
at speedwriting would take down the exact words of the naqqâl in
one of his sessions. One story could therefore be recited by many
different naqqâls in different towns using their own preferences
and ways of delivery, and this explains why different copies of the
same story taken down at their sessions would share the same con-
tent and matter but would not be identical in manner and diction.17
13 Kâshefi Sabzavâri, Fotovvat-nâme-ye soltâni, p. 304.

14 Mohammad-Ali Jamâlzâde, Farhang‑e loghât‑e âmmiyâne (Tehran, 1962),
p. 304.
15 Farâmarz b. Khodâdâd Arrajâni, Samak‑e ayyâr, ed. Parviz Nâtel-Khân-
lari (4 vols., repr. Tehran, 2006), IV, p. 101.
16 Qesse-ye Hoseyn‑e Kord‑e Shabestari bar asâs‑e ravâyat‑e nâ-shenâkhte,
mowsum be Hoseyn-nâme, eds. Iraj Afshâr and Mehrân Afshâri (Tehran,
2006), p. 278.
17 Mohammad-Ja’far Mahjub, Adabiyyât‑e âmmiyâne-ye Irân, ed. Hasan
Dhu’l-Faqâri (2 vols. in 1, Tehran, 2003), I, pp. 596–97.
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PERSIAN PROSE
It appears that some itinerant storytellers and naqqâls would

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

hammad Bighami, ed. Iraj Afshâr and Mehrân Afshâri (Tehran, 2009), in-
trod. by Mehrân Afshâri, pp. 14–15.
19 Afshâri and Madâyeni, eds., Haft lashkar, introd., p. 27.
20 Tâj-al-Din Abd-al-Vahhâb Sabki, Mo’id al-na’am wa mobid al-naqqam
(Beirut, 1986), p. 89.
384
Some storytellers were attached to the courts of kings and their

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

(2 vols., Tehran, 1970), I, pp. 479–80.
23 Mohammad-Tâher Nasrâbâdi, Tadhkere-ye Nasrâbâdi, ed. Vahid Dast-
gerdi (Tehran, 1938), p. 357.
24 Afshâri and Madâyeni, eds., Haft lashkar, introd., pp. 26–82.
385
PERSIAN PROSE
main overall plot of these stories relates how these lovers are finally
united. In the Qajar period too, Naqib-al-Mamâlek, the naqqâl to
the court of Nâser-al-Din Shah, composed the story of Amir Ar-
salân along the same lines. On the whole, in these stories of the
naqqâls, similar to those in Ferdowsi’s Shâh-nâme, marriages are
usually exogamic and endogamy is rare.
In some of the stories of naqqâls, it is the heroic feats and braver-
ies of a champion or a local hero which is the focus of the story and
around which the plot revolves. The main leitmotiv of these stories
is no longer love, but war and struggle for a certain creed or for the
preservation of home territory and land. Hoseyn‑e Kord falls into
this category.
The naqqâls often included historical figures and heroes into
the realm of their stories; and in some of their tales, the real heroes
are historical figures whose life stories are intermingled with fable
and imaginary discourse, such as Eskandar-nâme (The Book of
Alexander), Abu-Moslem-nâme (The Book of Abu-Moslem) and
Hamze-nâme (The Book of Hamze). Some of the naqqâls of the
Safavid period adopted this course with the Safavid kings them-
selves, and produced books about them in the style and manner of
the naqqâli narrative. These books were usually referred to under
the generic label of Âlam-ârâ (Adornment of the World), of which,
two examples have been published: Âlam-ârâ-ye Shâh Esmâ’il
(Narrative of Shah Esmâ’il’s life) and Âlam-ârâ-ye Shâh Tahmâsb
(Narrative of Shah Tahmâsb’s life).25 In these books history and
fiction are mixed together. Perhaps it could be said that in such
books as Eskandar-nâme, Abu-Moslem-nâme and Hamze-nâme,
fiction gets the better of history, while in the case of Âlam-ârây‑e
Shâh Esmâ’il and Âlam-ârây‑e Shâh Tahmâsb, the historical ingre-
dient is more dominant than the fictional element.
25 Âlam-ârây‑e Shâh Esmâ’il, ed. Asghar Montazer-Sâheb (Tehran, 1970);

Âlam-ârây‑e Safavi, ed. Yadollâh Shokri (Tehran, 1985); Jahângoshây‑e
Khâqân, introd. by Datta Muztar (facsimile ed., Islamabad, 1986); Âlam-
ârây‑e Shâh Tahmâsb, ed. Iraj Afshâr (Tehran, 1991). See also Barry Wood,
ed. and tr., The Adventures of Shāh Esmāʿ il: A Seventeenth-Century Popu-
lar Romance (Leiden and Boston, 2018).
386
One of the most exciting and frequently used motifs in the stories
of the naqqâls is the ayyâri trickeries, such as altering one’s appear-
ance or going disguised in different clothes, using knock-out drops to
render one’s enemies unconscious, digging tunnels to gain access to a
house or a military camp or the treasury of one’s foes, stealing, kidnap-
ping, camouflaging oneself for night sorties, and using special tools for
nocturnal thievery. In truth, the main delight of these stories is in the
description of the trickery and legerdemain performed by the ayyârs.
They are also fleet-footed and take on the task of messengers on foot.26
In pre-Safavid stories, including Firuzshâh-nâme, the ayyârs ap-
pear in the service of the kings and their warriors and belong to
a very different and distinct inferior class; but in later stories, in-
cluding Qesse-ye Hoseyn‑e Kord‑e Shabestari (Story of Hoseyn‑e
Kord‑e Shabestari), the court champions and warriors perform the
same functions as the ayyârs, with their tricks-of-the-trade, and
even the Safavid Shah Abbâs behaves at times in an ayyâri fashion.27
In Haft Lashkar (Seven Armies), even the heroes of the Shâh-nâme
also behave and act as ayyârs.28
Another recurrent motif in naqqâli stories is the presence of paris
(peris, fairies) and accounts of their conduct. In Ancient Iran, paris
differ from jinns, divs, and jâdus (sorcerers), and in stories that show
traces of a more ancient origin, such as Samak‑e ayyâr, the pari, as
in Zoroastrian texts, is malevolent and differs from jinns and sor-
cerers.29 In Samak‑e ayyâr, the malevolent pari, Qebt, is male in
gender. Of course, along with maleficent paris, there are also benev-
olent paris who come to the aid of the characters in the story.
In many stories, marriage between the main hero and a pari
is quite common. For example, in the Eskandar-nâme, Eskandar
married Arâqit the Pari,30 and in Hamze-nâme, Hamze marries
26 Mahjub, Adabiyyât‑e âmmiyâne, II, pp. 996–1014; Zarrinkub, Az gozashte-ye

adabi-ye Irân, pp. 110–111.
27 Qesse-ye Hoseyn‑e Kord‑e Shabestari, introd. Mehrân Afshâri, p. 33.
29 On paris, see Mehrân Afshâri, Tâze be tâze, now be now (Tehran, 2006),
pp. 47–61.
30 Eskandar-nâme: revâyat-e Fârsi az Kalistenes-e Dorughin pardâkhte m iyân-e
qorun-e sheshom va hashtom, ed. Iraj Afshâr (2 nd. ed., Tehran, 2008), p. 350.
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PERSIAN PROSE
Asmâ the Pari.31 In later stories, including that of Amir Arsalân,

the distinction between jinns and paris no longer exists.32 It must
be borne in mind that jinns were induced into Persian culture as
a product of Arabic lore and Islamic literature, but the origins of
paris are entirely Iranian.
Apart from paris, sorcerers (jâdovân/jâdugarân) are also pres-
ent in the stories. They are evil and deceitful witches who make
trouble for the heroes of the story by creating problems for them or
putting a curse on them. They also frequently lust after the heroes
and desire to sleep with them. For instance, in Firuzshâh-nâme the
two witches, Zarde the Witch and Moqantare the Witch, and their
sorcery and talismanic powers are mentioned; and in Amir Arsalân,
Marjâne the Witch and Reyhâne the Witch, make an appearance.
Talk of divs and ghouls is also one of the essential ingredients
of naqqâli stories. They mostly appear in the enemy’s camp and
engage in fighting with the heroes of the story. Men from the
tribe of Âd (a tribe in the Qur’an), negroes, and monstrous figures
from ancient and classical stories about marvelous races such as
dog-headed creatures, or those with large fan-shaped ears, or with
malleable clinging legs, can all be counted as enemies. Mythical
animals such as dragons and mythical birds like Simorgh and the
Rock (Rokh), are also present in these stories.
In naqqâli stories, war and battles are repeatedly mentioned
and battle scenes described. Courage on the battlefield and mili-
tary prowess are the main concern of such tales. This is why the
tales of naqqâls and storytellers should be considered in terms of
literary classification and genres as epics, and the tendency in re-
cent years among some scholars, following the example of some
European works, to bring them under the rubric of “romance” is
questionable. Although Aristotle considers composing in verse as
a prerequisite for an epic, in Persian literature the stories of the
naqqâls in prose possess characteristics of epic works.33 I approve
31 Qesse-ye Hamze: Hamze-nâme, ed. Ja’far She’âr (2 vols., Tehran, 1968), I,

p. 223.
32 Afshâri, Tâze be tâze, now be now, pp. 53–54.
33 Mahmud Omidsâlâr, Si o do maqâle dar naqd o tashih‑e motun‑e adabi
(Tehran, 2010), pp. 525–26.
388
of the classification by the scholar of Iranian mythology, Mehrdâd

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

35 It should be noted that the word dehid was more widely used, see Abu’l-
Fazl Beyhaqi, Târikh, tr. C. E. Bosworth and revised by Mohsen Ashtiany
as The History of Beyhaqi (3 vols., Cambridge, Mass., 2011), I, p. 124 and
433, III (commentary), p. 48, footnote 183.
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challenging in the battle arena; qarpus‑e zin, in the sense of the

bow of the saddle; ra’nâ, a word of abuse to refer to women, which
changed to nâ ra’nâ in later texts; al-qesse, in the sense of “to cut a
long story short”; hâzer vaqt budan or hâzer budan, in the sense of
being on the ball and keeping an eye open.
In certain places in their prose narratives, the naqqâls insert
verses to embellish their work and make it more attractive. Some of
these are of their own making and many are culled from the Shâh-
nâme, or other well-known verse narratives such as Nezâmi’s
Khosrow o Shirin, Leyli o Majnun, and Eskandar-nâme, or Vis o
Râmin by Fakhr-al-Din Gorgâni. Of course, in later works, verses
from Hâfez and Sa’di are frequently borrowed, and in the works
emanating from the Safavid period one can also, at times, come
across verses from Sâ’eb Tabrizi and other poets writing in the In-
dian style. On the whole it can be said that the influence and impact
of the Shâh-nâme has been stronger than that of any other work
in the stories of the naqqâls. At least as early as the Safavid period
and onwards, the naqqâls would retell and narrate stories from the
Shâh-nâme. But this rendering of a classical verse narrative into
prose and naqqâli format and style, was not limited to the Shâh-
nâme. One can also point to the Khâvarân-nâme, the Shi’ite verse
epic composed by Ebn-Hosâm Khusfi (d. 1469) which was also
rendered into naqqâli prose and had been published several times
in lithograph editions as Khâvar-nâme.
Aside from their literary merits, the stories of the naqqâls are
important primary sources for the study of Iranian social history
and that of their beliefs and thought systems.
2. Naqqâli Stories before the Safavid Era
Apart from five long popular stories that, from ancient times, had
been compiled by professional storytellers and naqqâls, who would
recite them in their performance sessions for the public at large, or
read them aloud from books for their audience, the rest of such
books were composed in the Safavid period or afterwards.
390
These five pre-Safavid books are the prose Eskandar-nâme,

Dârâb-nâme of Tarsusi (most of which is in essence another version
of the Alexander legend), the old manuscript of Qesse-ye Hamze or
Hamze-nâme, Samak‑e ayyâr, and Firuzshâh-nâme.36
The aforementioned books were compiled between the 12th and
the 15th centuries, and as their audience consisted of common peo-
ple, they come close to the Persian used in the streets and bazaars of
that time. As such, they are of great significance since most of the
surviving Persian texts from these three centuries were the work
of men of letters or scientists and court secretaries and therefore
reflect the Persian common amidst the elite and the erudite.
Eskandar-nâme
From the very first centuries ce, writers from different regions be-
gan composing books in different languages on Alexander’s world
exploits and conquests, apparently mostly inspired by Callisthenes,
a scholar from Olynthus, who had been commissioned by Alexan-
der to write about his conquests. In Persian, such books go under
the title of Eskandar-nâme.37 As pointed out by Bahâr,38 given the
fact that the aforementioned Eskandar-nâme refers to Ferdowsi’s
Shâh-nâme in several places,39 and the Ghaznavid poet Onsori (d.
1040) is also mentioned,40 and Sultan Mahmud of Ghazna (d. 933) is
mentioned with the formulaic prayer “God’s compassion upon him”
36 William Hanaway, “Formal Elements in the Persian Popular Romances,”

Review of National Literatures 2 (1971), p. 140.
37 An old manuscript copy of a prose Eskandar-nâme belonged to the private
library of the scholar Sa’id Nafisi (d. 1967). It was his friend and colleague,
Mohammad-Taqi Bahâr, who first pointed out the importance of the text
given its early date and language in his work Sabk-shenâsi, (repr., 3 vols.,
Tehran, 1990), II, pp. 128–48. Since then it has usually been referred to
amongst Iranian scholars as Eskandar-nâme-ye Nafisi. Iraj Afshâr (d. 2011)
edited the text for the first time in 1965 (2nd ed., Tehran, 2008).
38 Bahâr, Sabk-shenâsi, II, p. 132.
39 Eskandar-nâme, pp. 140, 165, 198.
40 Eskandar-nâme, pp. 261, 370.
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PERSIAN PROSE
denoting that he was no longer alive,41 this text could not have been
written down before the 10th century. Linguistic evidence suggests
a date from the 12th or the beginning of the 13th century.
The author of this Eskandar-nâme must have intended his work
to be read as a book rather than for oral recitation and naqqâli, as
evidenced by a passage in the book where he mentions that, while
in Egypt, Alexander had asked someone to narrate the story of
Zahhâk to him, and goes on:
And so that night the man narrated the story of Zahhâk the Arab
for the king … and the story of Kâve the ironsmith, and Afridun
and the murder of Zahhâk and the reign of Afridun, and the story of
Sâm (= Salm) and Tur and what ensued with the daughter of Sarv of
the Yemen, and the story of the murder of Iraj up to the reign of Ma-
nuchehr; he told them all to Alexander exactly as what Ferdowsi had
narrated in verse in the Shâh-nâme and as is already known to most
of the readers; but we in this book relate only the tale of Alexander
and that story replete with wonders, for otherwise the story will lose
its shape and proportion and would appear tiresome to the readers,
who would forget the story of Alexander itself.42
The compiler of this manuscript of Eskandar-nâme had based his
book on a manuscript compiled by someone else called Abd-al-
Kâfi b. Abi’l-Barakât who had gathered the various stories and ac-
counts about Alexander.43 He had, however, shortened the material
in the original whenever he had deemed fit to do so and had not
recorded some of its material.44
Nevertheless, the style of this Eskandar-nâme is similar to that
of naqqâli works. For example, most chapters begin with such
openings as “the teller of these accounts thus relates,”45 or “thus
relates the begetter of this account,”46 and “thus relates the teller of
the tale,”47 which are all specific to the style of the naqqâls. Some
41 Eskandar-nâme, p. 206.
46 Eskandar-nâme. pp. 355, 397, 419, 429.
392
of the expressions and phrases, which occur in the works of the

naqqâls including Samak‑e ayyâr and Dârâb-nâme, also occur re-
peatedly in Eskandar-nâme.48
Many of the characteristic motifs of naqqâli works are also em-
ployed in Eskandar-nâme including the kind of ayyâri trickery
that Alexander adopts, such as going into the enemy camp in dis-
guise and dressing up as a woman and putting on a veil and boots
and fleeing from the scene.49 At times he dresses up himself as an
ayyâr and indulges in ayyâri activities.50 Other repeated motifs
from naqqâli stories include the presence of paris, divs, sorcerers
and negroes,51 as well as the use of “knock-out drops” given by
Shah-Malek, the King of Taghmâj, to a female cupbearer so that
she could induce Alexander to drink it and lose consciousness and
be captured.52
According to Eskandar-nâme, Alexander is the son of Dârâb,
the king of Iran, and his mother is the daughter of Filqus Rumi
(Philip of Greece [Macedon]). Alexander goes to battle against his
own brother, Dârâb son of Dârâb, who had intended to impose lev-
ies on Greece. Dârâb is killed in the battle at the hands of his own
ministers, and Alexander conquers Iran.53 In this book Alexander
is identical with Dhu’l-Qarneyn (the Two-Horned), who is men-
tioned in the Qur’an.54 Since he is blessed with innate saintliness,
an angel saves him by grabbing his hand before he reaches for some
poisoned food.55 Alexander aims to conquer the whole world and
convert everyone to monotheism (khodâ-parasti), hence his epi-
thet in this book is “the Capturer of Lands.” Aristotle (Arastâtâlis,
Arastu) is his vizier and counsellor. In his own time, they were
already engaged in writing an Eskandar-nâme, and he himself was
48 Eskandar-nâme, Appendix 8, pp. 678, 681, 684, 687, 689, 690.

49 Eskandar-nâme, pp. 59–60.
51 Eskandar-nâme, pp. 313–33; 363–417.
54 Qur’an, 18:83, 86, 94.
55 Eskandar-name, p. 148.
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PERSIAN PROSE
aware of such a book.56 From Oman he goes to India and Kashmir,

and from there to Hejaz, Yemen, Egypt, and Andalusia.
He then goes off in search of the Water of Life to the Land of
Darkness, accompanied by Khezr (“the Green Prophet” a legend-
ary character in Islamic culture). Having come out of the Land
of Darkness, he goes towards Turkestan, China, and the Land of
Taghmâj. He then travels to the land of the paris and, after engag-
ing them in battle, marries Arâqit, their queen. He then proceeds
to the land of the Russians (Rus) and fights with heathens and black
savages (Zangiyân). At the end of the book, a cousin of Arâqit, a
pari named Yâqut-Malak, falls in love with Alexander, and their
tale remains unfinished.
In Eskandar-nâma, Alexander, as supposedly God’s agent on
earth, kills anyone who does not convert to monotheism (i. e. Is-
lam), without any pity. Another characteristic trait of Alexander in
this book is his propensity for marrying repeatedly. Wherever he
fights, he marries the daughter of the king of that region: For ex-
ample, he marries Nâhid, the daughter of Porus,57 the Indian King;
Mâh-âfarin, the daughter of Âzâd-bakht, the king of Kashmir;58
and the daughter of the ruler of Turkestan.59
Apart from Nafisi’s Eskandar-nâme, there are other prose Es-
kandar-nâmes in Persian, including the Eskandar-nâme-ye kabir
(The Great Book of Alexander) in seven volumes, which has been
published many times in a lithograph form60 and must have been
compiled in the Safavid period. Its compilation is attributed to a
naqqâl called Manuchehr Khân Hakim. This voluminous Eskan-
dar-nâme had gained great popularity among its Persian readers
thanks to the many dexterous deeds of Alexander’s own special
ayyâr, who is called Mehtar Nasim.
The conquest of different lands and the repeated marriages of
Alexander are reminiscent of Qesse-ye Hamze (story of Hamze)
56 Eskandar-nâme, pp. 205, 223, 259.

60 Ulrich Marzolph, Narrative Illustration in Persian Lithographed Books
(Leiden, 2001), pp. 239–40.
394
or Hamze-nâme (The Book of Hamze) in which Hamze, too, is

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

than that of other naqqâli stories other than the Nafisi Eskan-
dar-nâme, and it seems probable that it was compiled sometime
in the 12th or early 13th century.63 The compiler or narrator of the
Dârâb-nâme as we have it is not, as it is generally assumed, Abu-
Tâher Tarsusi, rather the compiler of the book has based his nar-
rative on Abu-Tâher Tarsusi’s account, as he declares at the begin-
ning of the book: “From the [accounts of] the tellers of tales and
purveyors of stories and histories, the thoroughly learned master
61 Ulrich Marzolph, “A Treasury of Formulaic Narrative: The Persian Popu-

lar Romance Hosein‑e Kord,” Oral Tradition 14/2 (1999), p. 281.
62 Eskandar-nâme, pp. 557, 607.
63 Omidsâlâr, Si o do maqâle, pp. 317, 323. (Omidsâlâr even goes as far as
maintaining that the prose is similar to that of the 11th century ce.)
395
PERSIAN PROSE
Abu-Tâher b. Hasan b. Ali b. Musâ al-Tarsusi—May God grant

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

Tehran, 1965–68), I, p. 3. See also the French translation of the Alexander
section with commentary by Marina Gaillard, Alexandre le grand en Iran:
Le ‘Dârâb Nâmeh’ d’Abu Tâher Tarsusi (Paris, 2005).
65 Tarsusi, Dârâb-nâme, p. 74.
396
bedded by her own father.67 She ascends the throne after her father,
while pregnant with his child. After she gives birth and the baby
reaches six months in age, fearing that the son might in future take
the crown from her, she places him in a wooden trunk and orders
that it should be placed in some flowing stream so that it would
drift away until it is retrieved by someone.
A laundryman named Hormoz retrieves the trunk, and since he
has taken the baby from water (âb), he names the boy Dârâb. He
grows to a handsome, strong, daring and war-like youth. He is also
blessed with farr‑e izadi (divinely bestowed glory), and this divine
glory appears in the luminosity shining from his countenance.68
Dârâb demands a horse from the launderer, who refuses because
he wants Dârâb to go into laundering like him. During an argu-
ment Dârâb strikes the launderer and kills his slave. The launderer
seeks justice from the local ruler, Amir Mardu, but Dârâb kills
the Amir’s soldiers until he is finally captured. The Amir orders
his execution. but at his wife’s suggestion, he has Dârâb’s fortune
told. The astrologer predicts that from Dârâb a son will be born
who will conquer the world. Amir Mardu’s son adopts Dârâb as
his own son.
The next episode narrates how one day Homâ sends Zahhâk, her
tax agent, to the court of Amir Mardu to receive his tribute. Dârâb
kills his troops, but Zahhâk escapes and reports to Homâ, who
senses that Dârâb is her own son. One episode takes Amir Mardu
and Dârâb to Baghdad, Homâ’s seat of power. On seeing her son,
Homâ’s maternal instincts are awakened, and she tells Dârâb that
she is his mother. At court, the nobles and the army led by Zahhâk
protest to Homâ for showing favors to him and accuse her of being
enamored with Dârâb and demand his execution, to which Homâ,
in an attempt to extricate herself, agrees. However, Dârâb escapes
death and even any injury at the time of execution because the ex-
ecutioner’s sword breaks in two at the time of impact. The troops
then demand his banishment. At Homâ’s request, Dârâb flees and
on his way kills Zahhâk.

68 Tarsusi, Dârâb-nâme, pp. 63, 88.
397
PERSIAN PROSE
Dârâb goes to the Isle of Oman, and there, after a verbal con-
frontation with the sons of Qantarash, the king of Oman, slays
two of them. Qantarash and his men engage Dârâb in several bat-
tles, but since Dârâb wears his grandfather Esfandiyâr’s impervi-
ous coat of mail, this renders all weapons ineffective. This coat of
mail had been passed on from Esfandiyâr the Brazen-Bodied to his
son Bahman, and from him to Homâ, and from her to Dârâb.69
Two of Qantarash’s black [Zangi] commanders, Samandun and
Samandâk, are killed at the hands of the thirteen-year-old Dârâb,
who escapes from Qantarash’s army and the black troops into a
cave, where he meets an ascetic old man called Solitun and, after a
journey across the sea, reaches an island ruled by Kamuz, a brother
of Qantarash. Kamuz seizes Dârâb and keeps him tied up until
Qantarash and his army arrive. At the point when the executioner
is about to cut off Dârâb’s head, Kamuz, won over and touched by
Dârâb’s beauty and youth, orders, “Do not kill him!” But Qan-
tarash reacts by issuing the counter command: “Kill Dârâb!” The
two brothers and their troops engage in battle over the issue of
Dârâb’s fate. Kamuz manages to kill Qantarash, but the latter’s
troops succeed in slaying Kamuz and placing Dârâb in prison. Qa-
ntarash’s wife, Tamrusiye, is enchanted by Dârâb’s beauty and falls
in love with him and manages to rescue him from prison. With the
hope of getting married, they sail to the Greek islands but, due
to some unexpected adventures and events, manage to lose one
another.
A major portion of Dârâb-nâme is devoted to the wander-
ings of Tamrusiye in search of Dârâb. Dârâb lands in the Isle of
Arus, where a king named Laknâd rules, and marries his daugh-
ter Zanklisâ. After many adventures and wanderings, Tamrusiye
arrives across the sea at an island where Zanklisâ lives. When
Zanklisâ discovers that Tamrusiye is in love with Dârâb, she issues
an order that she should be thrown into the sea. But she is rescued
at sea, and finally a merchant sells her as a slave to an eminent and
pious Greek called Herenqâlis.
398
In Herenqâlis’ residence Tamrusiye meets other slave girls, one

of whom turns out to be Zanklisâ, who had also been sold to Heren-
qâlis after some adventures. The slave girls recount their life stories
to Herenqâlis. One of them happens to be Adhrâ, Vâmeq’s beloved,
and she narrates briefly the famous tale of Vâmeq and Adhrâ.70
Herenqâlis recognizes Tamrusiye and declares that he is her ma-
ternal uncle and takes her to the island where Dârâb resides. Dârâb
and Tamrusiye get married, and Tamrusiye becomes pregnant. But
Laknâd and his daughter Zanklisâ set out to kill Tamrusiye while
they are all on board of a ship, and Zanklisâ kicks Tamrusiye on
her side and kills her, though she does manage to give birth to a
healthy and unharmed baby on board. Laknâd and Zanklisâ are
eventually killed, bitten by a snake.
Dârâb learns that a troop commander called Kuhâsâ has rebelled
against his mother Homâ and has captured her and is taking her to
the Qeysar (Caesar) of Rum. He goes off in her aid and rescues
her. Finally, Homâ declares to her troops that Dârâb is her son and
that his father was Bahman (Ardeshir) and installs him as the king
of Iran in her own place. One of Homâ’s slaves kills her. Dârâb
defeats the Qeysar of Rum and then proceeds to wage war against
Filqus, the brother of the Qeysar. He asks Filqus for his daughter’s
hand and ends the hostilities. Nâhid, Filqus’ daughter, is wedded
to Dârâb, but. as she suffers from bad breath, Dârâb sends her back
to Filqus while she is carrying his child.
Dârâb names the son that he has from Tamrusiye Dârâb as well.
He becomes known as Dârâ son of Dârâ (Dârây‑e Dârâyân). Nâhid
gives birth to Eskandar (Alexander) in Rum. Dârâb dies in Iran,
and Dârây‑e Dârâyân succeeds him. From here begins the Alexan-
der story. The atmosphere in the story of Alexander is somewhat
different from that of Dârâb’s. Alexander is brought up in a tent
near Aristotle’s (Arastu) monastery. A lion keeps watch over the
tent, and a goat gives him milk every day. His mother Nâhid mar-
ries someone called Firuzshâh. Alexander manages to gain entry
to the court of his grandfather, Filqus, and, in spite of the machi-
nation of Firuzshâh, succeeds Filqus as the king of Rum. Since he
70 Tarsusi, Dârâb-nâme, pp. 209–10.
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PERSIAN PROSE
is not prepared to pay any tribute to the shah of Iran, his brother
Dârây‑e Dârâyân, he takes his army to battle with him. In this bat-
tle, Dârâ’s vizier kills his king. Before Dârâ dies, Alexander goes to
him, and Dârâ asks him as his last testament to marry his daughter.
Dârâ’s daughter, Rowshanak, as it happens, has hair above her
upper lip like a boy, which caused her being given the nickname
of “Burân-dokht” (Purân-dokht). She was brave and manly in her
courage and warlike attitude and ruled Iran in her father’s place
and fought Alexander and his troops on several occasions and even
managed to conquer Aleppo. Finally, while she was swimming na-
ked in a fountain, Alexander caught sight of her naked body, and
she therefore submitted to him and married him.
Alexander spent three years enjoying carnal delights and courtly
leisure and then appointed Burân-dokht as ruler in his own place,
and, in order to see the marvels of the world and to meet with sages
and men of erudition, he embarked on his world tour, accompanied
by his other wife, Antutiye, daughter of the King of the Maghreb.
In India, in order to enforce the worship of God among the In-
dians, he engages in battle with both the King of India, Keydâvar,
and with another ruler of India, Fur. The daughter of Keydâvar is
also, like Burân-dokht, a brave and manly warrior and is called
Jibâve. She fights Alexander’s men on the battlefield and exhibits
many daring acts. Alexander’s wife, Antutiye, who was also par-
ticipating in these battles, is killed at the hands of Jibâve. Alexander
seeks Burân-dokht’s help who arrives to fight with Jibâve and Fur.
During several battles, Burân-dokht is captured, but she manages
to free herself and kill Jibâve. Eventually the Indian army is de-
feated, and Alexander and Burân-dokht, accompanied by a small
body of troops, begin their worldwide travels. Wherever he goes,
Alexander asks the local people to worship the one God. In India,
he visits the Prophet Adam’s burial place and then proceeds to the
land of the fish-eaters, the isle of the Dog-Heads (sagsârân, Cyno-
cephali), Zanzibar, Greece, the land of the Arabs, Egypt, and the
Maghreb. In the land of the Arabs or Hejaz, he decorates the Ka’ba
with gold and precious gems. In the course of these journeys, he
has many meetings and conversations with such sages and learned
men as Aristotle, Plato, Hippocrates, Ptolemy, and Loqmân (a sage
400
mentioned in the Qur’an). On these occasions he asks the learned

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

74 Mehrdâd Bahâr, Jostâr-i chand dar farhang‑e Irân, pp. 111 and 133.
75 See T. Hägg and B. Utas, The Virgin and Her Lover: Fragments of an An-
cient Greek Novel and a Persian Epic Poem (Leiden, 2003), passim.
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PERSIAN PROSE
frequent mention of the dreams of the characters in the stories and

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

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

77 Rabi’, Ali-nâme, facsimile ed. with a preface by M.-R. Shafi’i-Kadkani and
M. Omidsâlâr (Tehran, 2009), p. 162.
402
Alqash covets the treasure for himself and kills Bakht Jamâl and
takes possession of the treasure. The wife of Bakht Jamâl, who was
pregnant at the time, gives birth to a boy after the murder of her
husband. He is named Bozorjmehr (Bozorgmehr), and, since he is
endowed with much intelligence and wisdom, manages to gain ac-
cess to Qobâd’s court. He informs the king about the secret affair
of the treasure and the murder of his father at the hands of Alqash.
Qobâd orders Alqash to be hanged, and Bozorjmehr replaces him
at the court. The wife of Alqash also gives birth to a boy, whom
they name Bakhtak. After Qobâd’s death, Nushirvân (r. 531–579)
ascends the throne. Bozorjmehr goes to Mecca, and Bakhtak be-
comes Nushirvân’s vizier.
In Mecca, a son is born to Abd-al-Motalleb (the grandfather of
the Prophet Mohammad), and he calls him Hamze. Later, he be-
comes known as Amir Hamze. To Omayye Zamri is also born a
son, who is named Amr.78 The two boys grow up together and
remain loyal friends.
Due to some events, Hamze joins the court of Nushirvân and
falls in love with Mehrnegâr, the daughter of Nushirvân. When the
king hears about this, he decides to kill Hamze. Hamze and his
companions engage Nushirvân’s troops in battle and triumph over
them. On Bakhtak’s suggestion, Nushirvân sets extracting tribute
from Rum, Greece, and Egypt as the precondition for marrying
Mehrnegâr, hoping that Hamze would be killed in the course of
this mission. But once again Hamze returns victorious, having
married the daughter of the king of Egypt in the course of this
same mission. He seeks an audience with Nushirvân at Madâyen
and asks for the hand of Mehrnegâr, but once again Nushirvân re-
frains from granting his wishes. Nushirvân keeps sending Hamze
off to battle after battle, and Hamze keeps returning as always, tri-
umphant and victorious. Throughout these wars, Amr is Hamze’s
companion and assistant. The accounts of the ayyâri exploits of
Amr induce a special charm and attraction to the story. In Qesse-ye
78 In many old texts Amr was written with a final vâv in order to distinguish
it from Omar, including in the oldest manuscript of Hamze-nâme. Amr b.
Omayye Zamri (d. 675 ce) was one of the Companions of the Prophet and
was noted for his bravery.
403
PERSIAN PROSE
Hamze, he has the role of messenger and shâter (courier) for Amir
Hamze, and apparently it is on the basis of this that in the fotovvat
manuals of shâters he is considered as their foremost leader and
under the protection of Imam Ali himself.79
A son is born to Hamze and the Egyptian princess and is named
Omar. In another section of the story, Hamze falls in love with
Asmâ the Pari, queen of the paris, and marries her and has a daugh-
ter from her called Qoreyshi. Then he embarks on many a battle,
seeking his first love, Mehrnegâr, until finally he manages to marry
her. However, in a battle with Shaddâd the Heathen, who had kid-
napped Mehrnegâr, an enemy called Zubin Kâvus kills Mehrnegâr.
In his sorrow, Hamze becomes insane for twenty-one days.
Once again, Hamze embarks on fighting against Nushirvân so
that he can gain victory over him and marry Mehr-afzun, his other
daughter. Their battles drag on until Nushirvân decides himself to
step down from the throne and install his son Hormuz (r. 570–59)
in his place.
The entire narrative of Qesse-ye Hamze or Hamze-nâme is
taken up by the battle field accounts of Amir Hamze. Since he is
sâheb-qerân, born under an auspicious planetary conjunction and
blessed with a felicitous horoscope, he is forever victorious, and
after every martial exploit, he marries anew.
Finally, Amir Hamze and his troops return to Mecca, and their
return coincides with the advent of Mohammad’s prophetic mis-
sion. Hamze and his army, who are already followers of the Abra-
hamic faith, become Moslems. They fight with the armies of Rum,
Egypt, and Syria. The Rumi prince, Bur-Hend Rumi, is killed in
these wars, and Hend, the mother of the slain prince, urges Hor-
moz to invade Mecca. In the battle between the Moslems and the
Iranian army, all the companions of Hamze are slain. Hend man-
ages through trickery to cut down Hamze’s horse, forcing him
to fall to the ground, and Hend tears out Hamze’s liver with her
dagger and eats it. Then, fearful of the paris who, under the ban-
ner of Qoreyshi, Hamze’s daughter, had set upon her to take their
79 Mehrân Afshâri and Mehdi Madâyeni, eds., Chahârdah resâle dar bâb‑e
fotovvat va asnâf (Tehran, 2002), pp. 125–35.
404
revenge for Hamze, Hend seeks the Prophet’s protection and con-
verts to Islam, and the Prophet dissuades the paris from killing her.
Qesse-ye Hamze ends with a few stories concerning the Prophet
and Ali.
There is no basis for the assumptions made by some scholars
that Hamze-nâme was originally based on the life of Hamze, son
of Âdharak, who was one of the Kharijites of the 8th century, or
that accounts of his martial braveries were inserted into Qesse-ye
Hamze.80 The contents of the book show that they were compiled
and based on the deeds of Hamze, son of Abd-al-Mottaleb, the
uncle of the Prophet. For example, the final parts of the story and
the death of Hamze more or less correspond with the martyrdom
of Hamze, the Prophet’s uncle, in the battle of Ohod, where he
fell victim to the trickery and vengefulness of Hend, the wife of
Abu-Sofyân. The kind of Arab traits and assumptions which are
exhibited in Qesse-ye Hamze, such as multiple cases of marriage
with different sorts of women after each victory at the battlefield,
the unflattering portrayal of Sassanid kings, including Khosrow
Anushirvân, and their depiction as lacking in chivalry, indicate that
this story does not originate from Iran and lacks a Persian pedigree
and was probably introduced into Persian language and culture
through the distinct Arabic biographical genre of sire (i. e. biogra-
phies of the Prophet or Arabian heroes). Nevertheless, it should be
said that although there is an Arabic version of Qesse-ye Hamze
(published in three slim volumes entitled Qessat al-Amir Hamzat
al-Bahlavân, Cairo, n. d.), the use of the term bahlavân in the ti-
tle indicates that this story has been translated from Persian into
Arabic.
The significance and fame of the Qesse-ye Hamze in Persian
speaking cultures, and in particular in the Indian Subcontinent,
was such that in the Safavid era the author Abd-al-Nabi Fakhr-al-
Zamâni of Qazvin (d. after 1631) wrote a book entitled Dastur al-fo-
sahâ’ as a guide on how to recite and deliver Qesse-ye Hamze as a
naqqâli story. Although apparently no copies of Dastur al-fosahâ’
80 See for example Badi’-al-Zamân Foruzânfar, Sharh‑e Mathnavi-ye sharif (3

vols., Tehran, reprint 1982), III, pp. 1029–30.
405
PERSIAN PROSE
are to be found, a voluminous tome by him, entitled Tarâz al-akh-

bâr (a compendium of literary specimen in verse and prose) has
survived in which the discussion centers on how the naqqâls
should deliver Qesse-ye Hamze to their audience.81 In the book,
the author divides the manner in which Qesse-ye Hamze should be
transmitted and recited into four different ways and manners with
the following titles: the Iranian style (tarz), the style of the people
of Turân, the Indian style, and the custom of the people of Rum.82
This in itself suggests that in his era the Qesse-ye Hamze was being
narrated and recited across the Islamic world.
There exists a short version of Qesse-ye Hamze, consisting of
both prose and verse, entitled Sâheb-qerân-nâme. The “Sâheb-
qerân” of the title refers to Amir Hamze himself. This version was
translated into Punjabi and is very popular in the Indian Subcon-
tinent.83 There is also a version of the Qesse-ye Hamze entitled
Asmâr al-Hamze, a defective manuscript of which is found in the
British Library.84 It is interesting to note that the Urdu translation
of Qesse-ye Hamze is entitled Nushirvân-nâme. There is a manu-
script of it in the Majles Library in Tehran (MS no. 7871).85
A celebrated and extremely detailed version of Qesse-ye Hamze
belongs to the Safavid era. It is entitled Romuz‑e Hamze and is
apparently the work of a naqqâl called Mollâ Ali Shekar-riz (or
perhaps Jâmi Shekar-riz). It consists of seven volumes, with each
volume containing several parts; and there are several lithographed
81 Abd-al-Nabi Fakhr-al-Zamâni Qazvini, Tadhkere-ye meykhâne, ed. Ah-

mad Golchin-Ma’âni (Tehran, 1961), p. 769; idem, Tarâz al-akhbâr, ed.
Sayyed Kamâl Hâj Sayyed Javâdi (Tehran, 2013).
82 Mahjub, Adabiyyât‑e âmmiyâne-ye Irân, II, pp. 1089–93; Moham-
mad-Rezâ Shafi’i Kadkani, “Osul‑e honar‑e qesse-gu’i dar adab‑e Fârsi,”
in Arj-nâme-ye Shahryâri, ed. Parviz Rajabi (Tehran, 2002), pp. 357–59.
83 Shâhed Chaudhuri, “Ta’thir va nofuz‑e Shâh-nâme dar adabiyyât‑e Pan-
jâbi,” Farhang 7 (1990), p. 424. See also: The Adventurers of Amir Hamza:
Lord of the Auspicious Planetary Conjunction, original Urdu compilation
by Ghâlib Lakhnavi and Abd-Allâh Bilgrami, tr. Musharraf Ali Farooqi
(New York, 2007).
84 Mahjub, Adabiyyât âmmiyâne-ye Irân, I, p. 541.
85 Ali Sadrâ’i Kho’i, Fehrest‑e noskhe-hâ-ye Ketâb-khâne-ye Majles‑e
shurâ-ye Eslâmi, vol. XXVI (Tehran, 1997), pp. 349–50.
406
editions.86 In this version, the name of Bozorgmehr the Sage,

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

87 Shâhnazar Qesse-khwân, Zobdat al-romuz, Majles Library MS no. 13855,
fol. 2 b.
88 Qesse-khwân, Zobdat al-romuz, fol. 3 a.
89 Fereydun Vahman, “Mâjerâ-ye Hamze-nâme,” in Habib Yaghmâ’i and Iraj
Afshâr, eds., Nâme-ye Minovi (Tehran, 1972), pp. 471–72.
407
PERSIAN PROSE
Samak‑e ayyâr
Samak‑e ayyâr is perhaps the longest Persian popular story in the

manner of the naqqâls that has survived from the centuries before
the Safavid era. In terms of length, it is considerably longer than
Nafisi’s Eskandar-nâme, Tarsusi’s Dârâb-nâme, and Qesse-ye
Hamze. But contrary to what some scholars have maintained, Sa-
mak‑e ayyâr is not the most ancient of these stories.90 The style of
its prose appears to be of a later date than the prose style of Eskan-
dar-nâme and Dârâb-nâme, and it may belong to the 14th century.
The naqqâl or compiler of Samak‑e ayyâr is named as Farâmarz,
the son of Khodâdâd, from the Arrajân region of the province of
Fârs. It seems that his narrative is based on a written version of Sa-
mak‑e ayyâr by someone called Sadaqe, son of Abu’l-Qâsem, from
the city of Shiraz.91
In the beginning of the third volume of the unique manuscript of
Samak‑e ayyâr in the Bodleian Library in Oxford (Ouseley 381), in
an attached folio that bears a more recent handwriting than the rest
of the manuscript, there are some sentences of great significance:
And thus relates Farâmarz b. Khodâdâd b. Abd-Allâh al-Kâteb
al-Arrajâni [from] the teller of the story, Sadaqe b. Abi’l-Qâsem
Shirâzi: “at one time, a group of my close companions and friends
asked me for a story, and I began that story under the auspices of the
Almighty God’s favor on an auspicious day and blessed hour which
was Tuesday the twenty-first of June 1189, … and carried it out to
the best of my ability”…92
Although the handwriting in this attached section appears to be of a
more recent date, it seems that whoever wrote it and attached it to the
manuscript, must have copied it verbatim from an old manuscript.93
The preface that is inserted at the beginning of the third volume of
the manuscript of Samak‑e ayyâr includes the above quoted lines.
90 See, for example, Mohammad-Ja’far Mahjub, Adabiyyât‑e âmmiyâne-ye

Irân, I, p. 612; II, p. 954.
91 Arrajâni, Samak‑e ayyâr, I, pp. 1, 75.
92 Arrajâni, Samak‑e ayyâr, IV, p. 3.
93 Omidsâlâr, Si o do maqâle, p. 360.
408
Here, it seems that Farâmarz b. Khodâdâd was reciting the exact

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

95 Arrajâni, Samak‑e ayyâr, I, pref. by Parviz Nâtel-Khânlari, p. 11.
96 Mohammad Amin Riyâhi, Golgasht dar she’r o andishe-ye Hâfez (Tehran,
1987), pp. 157–66.
97 Farâmarz b. Khodâdâd Arrajâni, Samak‑e ayyâr, V, p. 609. For other exam-
ples, see Parviz Nâtel-Khânlari, Shahr‑e Samak (Tehran, 2006), pp. 66–68.
409
PERSIAN PROSE
Synopsis. Khorshid Shah’s father, called Marzbân Shah, is sad-

dened by the fact that he is childless. In order to have progeny, he is
advised to marry Golnâr, the daughter of the shah of Iraq, who had
previously been married and had some children of her own. Marz-
bân Shah fathers a son with Golnâr, and since he is born at sunrise,
he is named Khorshid Shah (Sun King). He proves to be exception-
ally handsome, intelligent, and well-mannered. One day when he
is out hunting, the nurse to the daughter of the king of China (the
Faghfur), who also happens to be a sorceress, transforms herself
into a wild ass and makes Khorshid Shah pursue her to the tent of
a beautiful girl. Khorshid Shah falls in love with her. The girl puts
a ring on Khorshid Shah’s finger and Khorshid Shah, having drunk
a sleeping draught, falls unconscious. When he regains conscious-
ness, he sees himself alone on the plain without a trace of the girl or
the tent. However, he sees that her ring is on his finger.
He returns to Aleppo, still madly in love with her, and asks his
retinue to decipher the inscription on the ring so that he can find
the owner; but no one is able to do this. The sorceress nurse goes
to the court of Khorshid Shah disguised as an old man and reads
the ring’s inscription for him and tells him that the girl he has fallen
in love with is called Mah-pari and is the daughter of Faghfur, the
king of China. She also describes what prerequisite conditions
need to be met if he wishes to marry Mah-pari.
In the bazaar of China, Khorshid Shah befriends Shoghâl Pil-
zur (lit. “the jackal with the strength of an elephant”), who is the
chief of the javânmardân (chivalrous urban gang), and his appren-
tice and godson, Samak, who is the leader of the ayyârs. Accompa-
nied by the above-mentioned two, as well as a group of ayyârs and
his own stepbrother Farrokh-ruz, who is also a son of Golnâr, he
goes to Faghfur’s court in order to marry Mah-pari. There he finds
twenty-one other princes from various lands in China, all in love
with Mah-pari and all held captive by the nurse. Khorshid Shah
manages to gain entry into the house of the sorceress nurse. Samak
the Ayyâr kills the nurse and sets the twenty-one princes free on
the condition that they desist in asking for Mah-pari’s hand.
Mah-pari too, on seeing Khorshid Shah, falls in love with him,
but Mehrân, the evil-natured vizier of Faghfur, proves an obstacle.
410
His own son, Qâbez, is also in love with Mah-pari, and Mehrân
strives to make him Faghfur’s son-in-law. Upon Mehrân’s sugges-
tions, all Mah-pari’s suitors enter a tournament but Khorshid Shah
is victorious against them all. Qâbez resorts to deceit and trickery,
but is finally killed by Samak.
Mehrân the vizier sends a letter to Arman Shah, the King of
Manchuria (Mâchin), and urges his son, Qezel Malek, to seek the
hand of Mah-pari. Qezel Malek and his army invade China and
the Chinese army, commanded by Khorshid Shah, confronts them.
After many an engagement, Qezel Malek is defeated, but on each
occasion when Khorshid Shah and Mah-pari are about to wed, an
incident intervenes and prevents the marriage from taking place.
Many a time Mah-pari is lost or kidnapped, and many a time
Khorshid Shah and his troops fight Qezel Malek and Arman Shah
and their army; while the ayyârs on both sides have their special
combats and engagements against each other. In one of the battles,
Farrokh-ruz is captured and killed. The main instigator of all this
mayhem and strife is the deceitful Mehrân. Opposed and in con-
trast to him are Hâmân and Shahrân, the two wise and benevolent
viziers of Marzbân Shah, who assist and guide Khorshid Shah with
their wise counsels.
Finally, Khorshid Shah and Mah-pari succeed in marrying, but
Mah-pari and her infant die at childbirth. Khorshid Shah mourns
their death, and the battles against the army of Arman Shah con-
tinue unabated. Throughout these wars, the ayyârs, led by Samak,
play a very active part. Mâhâne, Arman Shah’s daughter, falls in
love with Khorshid Shah and asks Samak to help her attain her
wishes. A band of people dwell in valleys and the mountains and
are led by a javânmard called Ghur‑e Kuhi. He has a daughter,
Âbân-dokht, with whom Khorshid Shah has fallen in love. Af-
ter several adventures, Khorshid Shah and Âbân-dokht are wed.
Mâhâne arrives at the court when the two are about to get mar-
ried, and when it is discovered that she had intended to poison
Âbân-dokht due to her jealousy, she commits suicide with a knife.
To Khorshid Shah a son is born whom he names Farrokh-ruz in
memory of his own half-brother, who had sacrificed his own life
for him. Farrokh-ruz marries four wives, for each of whom he has
411
PERSIAN PROSE
to undergo many an adventure. They are called Shervân, Golbuy,

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

Irân, p. 163.
99 Farâmarz b. Khodâdâd Arrajâni, Samak‑e ayyâr, II, p. 140.
412
The main attraction and charm of the story of Samak‑e ayyâr is

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

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

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

vols., Tehran, 2002), II, p. 768.
104 Bighami, Dârâb-nâme, II, Safâ’s notes, p. 769; Firuzshâh-nâme, pref. by
Afshâri, p. 10.
414
And so we come to the main story and the account of the real subject
of misfortune, the king of Azerbaijan, the Sultan of the realm of Ma-
rand, Prince Mozaffar Shâh … from the narration of this poor and ab-
ject slave, the invoker of prayers for javânmardân and the well-wisher
of all Muslims, the great Mowlânâ Sheikh Hâji Mohammad b. Sheikh
Mowlânâ Ali b. Sheikh Mowlânâ Mohammad, known as Bighami,
May God secure his welfare! May God grant him forgiveness and
whoever reaches this place, be it the writer, the reader or the listener
should, for the soul of the compiler of this book, recite the beginning
verse of the Holy Qur’an once, and the subsequent verses thrice.105
Similarly, in the third volume he introduces Bighami by replicating
Bighami himself as “the puniest of the slaves”.106
Contrary to what has been assumed, the compiler or the writer
of what has been published as Qesse-ye Firuzshâh or Firuzshâh-
nâme is definitely not Mohammad Bighami himself, and the words
of the narrator of the story, Bighami, have not been transmitted
from an oral delivery to a written script. Given the fact that the
Revan Köşkü manuscript was written down in 1482, we must as-
sume that Mowlânâ Mohammad Bighami, for whom we have no
personal detail, must have lived before this date, and was possibly a
naqqâl of the 14th or 15th centuries. Both from the point of view of
language and diction, and that of themes and subjects, Firuzshâh-
nâme bears some affinities with Samak‑e ayyâr, and it could be
said that these two books fall in a similar category, although their
original narrators may have come from different regions.
Synopsis. The main hero of Qesse-ye Firuzshâh or Firuzshâh-nâme

is Firuzshâh, a son of Dârâb, the Kayanid king of Iran. It should be
pointed out that “shâh” is not his title but part of his name, i. e. his
name is Firuzshâh and not Firuz tout court. Contrary to what the
first editor of the text, Dhabih-Allâh Safâ had thought, in this story
Firuzshâh is not Dârâb II, or Dârâ-ye Dârâyân.107 As explained in
the third volume of the story, he is the brother of Dârâb II.108
105 Bighami, Dârâb-nâme II, p. 372.

106 Firuzshâh-nâme, p. 514.
107 Bighami, Dârâb-nâme I, Safâ’s preface. p. 7.
108 Firuzshâh-nâme, pp. 686 and 689.
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Firuzshâh is the son of Dârâb I from his marriage to the daugh-

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

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

mun Khan, the ruler of China, and his troops. Dârâb and Eyn-
al-Hayât are in Iran and have been separated from Firuzshâh for
many years. It is clear that there had been other adventures prior to
this but there is no extant manuscript covering the hiatus.
The story of Firuzshâh in the third volume is more or less simi-
lar to that of Alexander in Eskandar-nâme. Firuzshâh’s intentions
are similar to that of Alexander: to conquer the world and to per-
suade the people and the kings of other realms to convert to Islam.
He fights against the Chinese king, the king of Ghush-qaran, the
ruler of Constantinople, the Arab king, the Indian king, and their
troops in many an engagement until he finally emerges victorious.
A major portion of the third volume of Firuzshâh-nâme is de-
voted to the love story of Malek Bahmân, the son of Firuzshâh and
Eyn-al-Hayât, with Khorshid-chehr, the daughter of Shakmun
Khân, and how the two suffer hardships and separations before
they can be united together, with the armies of Iran having to fight
those of India and China on many an occasion. In the course of
these adventures, the Iranian champion Ardavân, the son of Far-
rokhzâd, acts as companion and aid to Malek Bahmân. The third
volume ends just before Malek Bahmân and Khorshid-chehr are
finally conjoined.
The Arabic version of Firuzshâh-nâme is an abridged rendering
of the Persian in four volumes.109 Here, the Persian proper names
are arabicized so that it would appear to be an old translation. The
story of Firuzshâh was also rendered into Turkish by a translator
called Sâleh b. Jalâl for the Ottoman Sultan Selim.110
The world of Qesse-ye Firuzshâh is the world of pre-Islamic
Iran, although it should be pointed out that there is no mention
of a Firuzshâh as a son of Dârâb in any Zoroastrian texts or in the
mythical parts of traditional ancient Iranian history. In the story,
the Iranians are yazdân-parast (God worshippers), and at times
yazdân-parasti is interpreted as mosalmâni. The enemies of the
109 Qessat Firuzshâh b. Malek Dhârâb (Beirut, n. d.). See also M. C. Lyons, The
Arabian Epic: Heroic and Oral Storytelling (3 vols., Cambridge, 1995).
110 Bighami, Dârâb-nâme II, Safâ’s notes, p. 768.
418
Iranians are described as heathens (kâfers), idol-worshippers, and

fire-worshippers.111 The influence of Islamic culture is also to some
extent visible in this tale of ancient Iran.112 Firuzshâh and his son
Malek Bahman stand “under an auspicious planetary conjunction”
(sâheb-qerân) and are therefore forever victorious.113 The king and
princes in Firuzshâh-nâme are endowed with a certain aura of ho-
liness, and because of this, their court warriors and champions seek
to draw inner strength from them and go to the battlefield under
their auspicious shadow.114 One of the frequently repeated topics
in the book is the description of the ayyârs artful wizardries such
as digging channels (naqb/naqm zadan), altering their appearances,
and slipping sleeping potions into their enemies and rivals’ drink
or food to render them unconscious. The Iranians are noted in the
book for their chivalry and manliness (morovvat and fotovvat),115
and the compiler of the book is a devout advocate of the rules of
chivalry (javânmardi) and encourages his audience to adopt hon-
esty, decency, and courage, in short, towards fotovvat.116
3. Stories from the Safavid Era and beyond
During the reign of the Safavids in Iran, naqqâli and the compiling
of stories became increasingly popular and widespread, and most
of the surviving stories composed in the style of naqqâli date from
this era. They were the main source of public entertainment at the
time, perhaps fulfilling the same function as the cinema, television,
and theatre today. There was an increase in the number of loan-
words and words originating from Arabic and Turkish in the same
111 Firuzshâh-nâme, pp. 147, 444, 447.

112 Firuzshâh-nâme, Afshâri’s preface, p. 20.
113 Firuzshâh-nâme, pp. 128, 486–87, 524.
116 An abridged translation of the first sections o f Firuzshâh-nâme has been
translated into English by William L. Hanaway, Jr., under the title, Love
and War: Adventures from the Firuz Shāh Nāma of Sheikh Bighami (New
York, 1974).
419
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period, while at the same time the language used was very similar
to the everyday speech of the general public and the streets and
the bazaars. As far as their plots were concerned, the stories dat-
ing from the Safavid era contain a greater density of adventures,
with various incidents following in quick succession and much
more talk of imaginary beings and superstitious beliefs, and par-
ticularly of talismans and witchcraft. Characteristic of these later
tales are incredible and fantastic fabrications and risible exaggera-
tions.117 There are a great number of these stories.118 Here we are
only concerned with the most significant and well-known of them.
After the introduction of printing to Iran and India, some of the
stories were published and reissued many times in lithographed
editions and had a vast readership in the 19th and 20th centuries.
In fact, it could be said that the introduction of printing increased
their popularity. The most voluminous of them that came out in
lithograph editions were Eskandar-nâme-ye kabir and Romuz‑e
Hamze, both in seven volumes and in the large rahli-size format.
Abu-Moslem-nâme and Other Stories Attributed

to Abu-Tâher Tarsusi
During the Safavid period (1501–1722), the only storyteller from

the previous centuries who enjoyed great fame among the naqqâls
was Abu-Tâher Tarsusi of the 12th century (or perhaps earlier). The
only old story that we have based on Tarsusi’s narrative is Dârâb-
nâme. The naqqâls of the Safavid era, and those who came after
them, have recounted a number of stories, which they claim were
based on Tarsusi’s narrative. We cannot tell whether they in fact
were in possession of an old recension of the stories, which were
based on Tarsusi’s account, or whether, given Tarsusi’s fame and
prestige among storytellers, they fabricated this genealogy in order
to attribute their work to him. Among the many stories attributed
117 Mahjub, Adabiyyât‑e âmmiyâne-ye Irân, I, pp. 149 and 156.

118 Mahjub, Adabiyyât‑e âmmiyâne-ye Irân, I, pp. 144–145, where Mahjub lists
163 stories, most of which exist only in manuscript form.
420
to Tarsusi, although they undoubtedly emanate from the Safavid

era, i. e. from the 16th century and beyond, the following three
are the most popular and famous: Abu-Moslem-nâme, Qesse-ye
Qerân‑e Habashi, and Qahramân-nâme.
Abu-Moslem-nâme. There is little doubt that after the treacher-

ous murder of Abu-Moslem Khorâsâni (d. 754), carried out at the
instigation of the second Abbasid caliph, Abu-Ja’far al-Mansur
Davâniqi (r. 753–74), many books were written describing this Ira-
nian army commander’s life and fate. For instance, Ebn-al-Nadim
(d. 988) cites a book, Akhbâr-e Abi-Moslem sâheb al-da’wa, by
Abu Abd-Allâh Marzbâni which is no longer extant.119 The Abu-
Moslem-nâme that we have today is an epic story composed in the
style of the naqqâls and which clearly was not written down earlier
than the Safavid era.
Synopsis. According to this book, Abu-Moslem’s name is Abd-al-

Rahmân, his father is called Asad, and his mother Halime. His
grandfather was Joneyd and his grandmother Rashide, who hap-
pens to be the offspring of a human being and a pari. The story
of the marriage of Joneyd and Rashide is told in great detail in a
separate story called Qesse-ye Sayyid Joneyd.120
According to Abu-Moslem-nâme, Joneyd and Mohalhel are two
warring brothers belonging to the Arab tribe of Hayy Tâyy. Asad,
the son of Joneyd and Halime, the daughter of Mohalhel, fall in
love with each other, but as Mohalhel is opposed to the marriage,
they escape from his clutches. They go first to Baghdad and then to
Isfahan, where Abu Moslem is born. For two years Asad works as
a warder for Hajjâj b. Yusof, the ruler of Isfahan, until an incident
occurs when he strikes and kills a man who had made defama-
tory remarks about Ali (the Prophet’s nephew and son-in-law). For
this, Hajjâj has Asad executed and Halime blinded. Halime and
her son live for a while in abject poverty until a friend of Asad’s,
119 Abu’l-Faraj Mohammad b. Eshâq Ebn-al-Nadim, Ketâb al-Fehrest, ed.
Ayman Fo’âd Sayyed (4 vols., London, 2009), I, p. 413.
120 Abu Tâher Tarsusi, Abu-Moslem-nâme, ed. Hoseyn Esmâ’ili (4 vols., Teh-
ran, 2001), I, pp. 215–519.
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PERSIAN PROSE
Khwâje Kathir, takes them to Khorasan and Marv. They live in the
environs of Marv, and Khwâje Kathir himself becomes the vizier of
Nasr‑e Sayyâr, the governor of Khorasan. The two sons of Khwâje
Kathir, called Othmân and Soleymân, happen to be of the same age
as Abu-Moslem and become his friends and companions. He also
makes other friends in Marv, including Khordâd the Ironsmith
who had been a friend of Abu-Moslem’s father. He makes a special
battle-axe for Abu-Moslem and this becomes his personal weapon
on the battlefields.
Abu-Moslem and his friends, including the sons of Kathir, de-
cide to rise against the “Khârejiyân” (outsiders), i. e., those who are
hostile to the Alid House, and hurl abuse at them. In this story,
Abu-Moslem and his companions who are devoted to the House of
Ali are called the faithful (mo’menân) and Moslems (mosalmânân),
as opposed to the “Khârejiyân.” At Soleymân the son of Kathir’s
suggestion, they obtain a handwritten permission from Imam
Bâqer, the fifth Imam of the Shi’ites, which of course has no his-
torical basis.
According to Abu-Moslem-nâme, the eponymous hero begins
his revolt against the governor of Khorasan in Marv, Nasr‑e Sayyâr,
who has been appointed by Marvân‑e Hemâr. Abu-Moslem thus
becomes known as “Sâheb-al-Da’ve” (One who Summons). A
multitude of peasants, artisans, craftsmen, and particularly ayyârs,
gather round him and aid him in his uprising and fight many bat-
tles with Nasr‑e Sayyâr and his sons and the pro-Marvân sympa-
thizers (marvâniyân).
There are numerous ayyârs at the service of Abu Moslem but
the most eminent of them are Sa’d Dhulâbi and Hayd Ali-âbâdi,
who eventually die a martyr’s death, and a female ayyâr, Sati. The
most prominent champion warrior in Abu-Moslem’s army is Ah-
mad Zamji, who continues Abu-Moslem’s rebellion against the Ab-
basids until he himself is killed. Qesse-ye Zamji-nâme is about his
exploits. After many a battle, Abu-Moslem finally defeats Nasr‑e
Sayyâr, who is killed. Many rulers and kings join Abu-Moslem,
who continues his campaign and conquers cities one after another
and engages Marvân in battle. Marvân escapes to Egypt but is fi-
nally defeated and hanged. Abu Moslem removes the Marvanid
422
establishment from power and makes Saffâh the caliph. But later
he bitterly regrets this move and becomes ill at the thought of his
own failure to place someone from the Alid lineage on the caliph’s
throne. Saffâh dies, and Abu Ja’far (who is mostly referred to as
Ja’far in the text) succeeds him as caliph. But he is apprehensive
about Abu Moslem. He first dupes Soleymân Kathir to murder
Abu Moslem by means of a poisoned apple, but the plot is uncov-
ered by Abu-Moslem and Soleymân himself dies. Later Abu-Mos-
lem is killed by a sword at the court of Abu Ja’far, thanks to his
deceit and stratagem.
On rare occasions, there is some talk of magic and talismans
in Abu-Moslem-nâme but mostly the depiction is a realistic one,
along with the usual exaggerations characteristic of these kinds of
stories. The main themes of the story revolve round the defense of
the Alid House and vindicating Imam Hoseyn’s martyrdom, and
the description of the many battles of Abu-Moslem and his follow-
ers, and accounts of the ways and deeds of the ayyârs.
The popularity of the story among the general public in the Sa-
favid period was such that when one of the religious scholars of the
17th century, named Mir Lowhi, wrote a polemic against Abu-Mos-
lem in a book, there was a public riot against him, leading other
scholars, like Majlesi, to come to the defense of Lowhi.121Abu-Mos-
lem-nâme has also been translated into Turkish.122
Qesse-ye Qerân‑e Habashi is an ayyâri tale about an Iranian ayyâr

called Qerân Habashi (Qerân of Abyssinia) who lives in Damascus,
at the service of the Iranian king Qobâd. A merchant called Khalil
who had travelled to Turân, brings the portrait of the daughter
of the king of China to Qobâd, and Ardeshir, the king’s eldest
son, upon seeing the picture falls in love with the Chinese prin-
cess. Qobâd sends his vizier, Homây, along with Khalil the Mer-
chant and others to China, bearing many gifts, to ask the Chinese
king to agree to the marriage of his daughter to Ardeshir. But the
121 Gholâm-Hoseyn Yusofi: Abu Moslem: sardâr‑e Khorâsân (Tehran, 1977).
p. 184.
122 See Irène Mélikoff, Abū Muslim, le ‘Porte-Hache’ du Khorassan dans la
tradition épique Turco-Iranienne (Paris, 1962).
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PERSIAN PROSE
Chinese king, who bears great enmity towards Iranians on account

of Afrâsiyâb (the mythical king), imprisons all the envoys. Qerân
Habashi who had for some reason remained behind, outside the
town, is thus saved from prison and reports back to king Qobâd.
The focus of the story is on the war between the Chinese and the
Iranian armies for the rescue of Homây and the rest. The main hero
of these wars turns out to be Qerân Habashi who, along with his
ayyâr comrades, undertakes many a daring feat and outstanding
missions.
Apparently, next to Samak‑e ayyâr, there is more talk of the
ayyârs and their ways and techniques in Qerân‑e Habashi than
any other naqqâli tale, as also suggested by the very title of the two
books, which bear the name of the tales’ two outstanding ayyârs.
Most of the manuscripts of Qerân‑e Habashi are in Turkish and so
far only one manuscript of the text in Persian, which must be the
original of the story, has been noted. It is kept at the Staatsbiblio-
thek in Berlin (no. or fol. 3180).
The other story whose narration is attributed to Abu Tâher Tar-
susi is called Qesse-ye Qahramân‑e Qâtel or Qahramân-nâme,
and, as with Qesse-ye Qerân‑e Habashi, most of the manuscripts
are in Turkish. A copy of the Persian version, or rather the arch-ver-
sion, is also at the Staatsbibliothek in Berlin (no. 1039 [Petermann
425]) and is mentioned by the Iranian scholar Mohammad Qazvini
(d. 1949) in one of his notebooks.123 There are also several litho-
graphed editions of Qahramân-nâme,124 but apparently there are
variants in their texts in relation to the Berlin manuscript.
According to Qahramân-nâme, the eponymous hero is the son
and designated successor of Tahmurath Div-band (Demon-binder),
the king of Iran from the mythical Pishdâdiyân dynasty. The de-
mons (divs) succeed in kidnapping Qahramân in infancy and bring
him up amongst themselves hoping that later they can, with his as-
sistance, overcome mankind. But when Qahramân reaches adoles-
cence and learns of his past, he asks the demons to return him to his
123 Mohammad Qazvini, Yâddâshthâ, ed. Iraj Afshâr (10 vols. in 5, Tehran,
1984), IX-X, pp. 2714–17.
124 Marzolph, Narrative Illustration, p. 257.
424
homeland. When Qahramân arrives in Iran, Hushang is the king of

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

ment in Iran and declared Shi’ism as the official religion of the state.
In this process, they were aided by public entertainers who, with
their recitals of the worthy deeds of the Prophet’s household and
descendants (Ahl‑e beyt) and stories about the heroes of Shi’i his-
tory, were contributing to spread Shi’ite beliefs and buttressing the
Safavid rule. As mentioned before, according to Fotovvat-nâme-ye
soltâni, the reciters of Shi’ite deeds and the naqqâls were follow-
ers of the codes of fotovvat; and in the Safavid period, they were
mostly to be found in the garb of dervishes and as followers of
the Heydariyye tariqe, which was itself a branch of the Qalandari-
yye, whose codes and tenets were very much connected to those of
javânmardi and fotovvat. Later, in the Qajar period, the dervishes
of Khâksâriyye and the Ferqe-ye Ajam who were also engaged in
naqqâli and in reciting panegyric accounts of Shi’ite holy figures,
were in essence the continuation of the Heydari qalandars of the
Safavid times.125
125 For further reference to the sources for this topic see Mehrân Afshâri,
Âyin‑e javânmardi, marâm o soluk‑e tabaqe-ye âmme-ye Irân (Tehran,
2005), pp. 70–79.
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The entire corpus of stories from the Safavid period is not a prod-
uct of the compilations of the naqqâls. Some of them are the work of
their co-participants in supporting the Safavids, i. e., the narrators
eulogizing Shi’ite holy figures (manâqeb-khwânân) and preachers
from the pulpit who also extolled them. Mokhtâr-nâme (The Book
of Mokhtâr) and Mosayyeb-nâme (The Book of Mosayyeb), two
books that deal with avenging the blood of the Karbala martyrs,
fall into this category. The style and manner of these two books do
not tally with those of the naqqâls. They bear little trace of the spe-
cial expressions and idiosyncrasies embedded in naqqâli narratives.
Nevertheless, and in spite of the fact that the writers of these books
had intended to write historical accounts, they fall into the category
of popular stories, and for years their lithographed editions were a
source of entertainment for the Iranian public.
Mokhtâr-nâme deals with the uprising of Mokhtâr (killed in 687),

the son of Abi-Obeyd Thaqafi, who rebelled in order to avenge the
martyrdom of Imam Hoseyn and punished and killed the agents of
the Umayyads who had been involved in the events at Karbala and
the martyrdom of Imam Hoseyn and his children and companions.
The book was written by one of the pulpit eulogizers of the 16th
century called Atâ b. Hosâm Vâ’ez‑e Heravi. It seems that in writ-
ing his work, he was very much influenced by Rowzat al-shohadâ
(Garden of the Martyrs) by Mollâ Hoseyn Vâ’ez Kâshefi Sabzevâri,
who also authored Fotovvat-nâme-ye soltâni.126 The alternative ti-
tle for Mokhtâr-nâme is Rowzat al-Mojâhedin, presumably echo-
ing Kâshefi’s title, Rowzat al-shohadâ.
Following the tradition of preachers from the pulpit and reli-
gious eulogizers, the author of Mokhtâr-nâme informs us that
the contents of his book are based on Abu Mekhnaf Lut b. Ya-
hyâ’s narration.127 Abu Mekhnaf, (d. 774) to whom some material
126 For further information, see Peter Chelkowski, “Kashefi’s Rowzat al-sho-
hadâ: The Karbala Narrative as Underpinning of Popular and Religious
Culture and Literature,” in HPL Vol. XVIII Companion Vol. II (London,
2010), pp. 261–77.
127 Atâ-Allâ b. Hosâm Vâ’ez Heravi, Kolliyyât‑e haft jeldi-ye ketâb‑e Mokhtâr-
nâme (Tehran, n. d.), p. 6.
426
in Abu-Moslem-nâme is also attributed,128 was a Shi’i scholar in

his own right and author of several books including Maqtal‑e
Ali, Maqtal‑e Hoseyn, and Akhbâr‑e Mokhtâr.129 There are some
historical figures in the book, including Mokhtâr, who is killed
during his fight to avenge the martyrs of Karbala.
Mosayyeb-nâme also must be attributed to the writings of re-

ligious eulogizers but it reads more like a fictitious story than
Mokhtâr-nâme. It relates the uprising of Mosayyeb b. Najabe b.
Rabi’e b. Riyâh Fazari to avenge the blood of Imam Hoseyn in
684 ce. Mosayyeb himself was one of Ali’s commanders, but in
Mosayyeb-nâme, he is introduced as the son of Qa’qâ’. Mosayyeb’s
father and brother are killed at the battle of Siffin while fighting on
Ali’s side, and Ali makes Mosayyeb his honorary son and issues the
edict of his uprising with his own hand. The writer has confused
historical facts. Qa’qâ’ was not Mosayyeb’s father although Qa’qâ’
b. Amr Tamimi is a historical figure in his own right and was part
of Ali’s army in the battle of Siffin.130
There is plenty of imaginary material in Mosayyeb-nâme with
no historical validity. This includes the reference to Imam Ali b.
Hoseyn, known as Zeyn-al-‘Âbedin, being a prisoner of Yezid b.
Mo’avie, and Mosayyeb rising to free him and attacking Egypt and
Syria on several occasions, until he manages to set the Imam free.
Mohammad b. Zeyd b. Ali, the grandson of Imam Zeynal-Âbedin,
accompanies Mosayyeb in his wars, and in the final battle against
the enemies of the House of Ali, Mohammad b. Zeyd disappears in
the water, and angels take Mosayyeb to the world above. Also, as in
the books of the naqqâls, the counting of heads in Mosayyeb-nâme
is highly overblown and the number of people who get killed by
him appears grossly exaggerated.131 Nevertheless, the conjecture
that Mosayyeb-nâme must have had an oral version and was used
128 Tarsusi, Abu-Moslem-nâme, IV, p. 486.

129 Ebn-al-Nadim, Fehrest, I, pp. 291–92.
130 See the entries on Qa’qâ’ and Mosayyeb in Dehkhodâ’s Loghat-nâme.
131 Sadr-al-Din Elâhi, “Pas az khwândan‑e ketâbi, dar bâre-ye hamâse-ye dini-ye
âmmiyâne: Mosayyeb-nâme,” Irân-shenâsi, V/1, (Spring 1994), pp. 140–41.
427
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by naqqâls132 cannot be upheld and this book cannot be included

in the rubric of naqqâli works.
Another story with a religious theme which was compiled in the
Safavid period and which must be included in the repertoire of the
naqqâls, since there are many naqqâli ingredients embedded in it,
is Khâvar-nâme (Book of the East). The naqqâli prose version is
based on the verse epic, Khâvarân-nâme (Book of Eastern Lands),
composed by Ebn-Hosâm Khusfi, a religious eulogizer of the 15th
century.
A neglected genre which enjoyed some popularity is that of
Velâyat-nâme (Book of Governorship). These verse narratives with
an epic tone deal mainly with the bravery and chivalry of Ali. They
are usually fused with mythical and fictitious material. The versi-
fied Khâvarân-nâme of Ebn-Hosâm is in essence a Velâyat-nâme.
Synopsis: In the beginning of this verse narrative, which is rep-

licated in the prose naqqâli version as well, two of the Prophet’s
companions, Abu’l-Mehjan and Sa’d‑e Vaqqâs, depart from Mecca
for the Eastern Lands (khâvar-zamin). The Prophet sends Ali to
search for them. Having found those two, Ali accompanied by the
Moslem army, proceeds to the Eastern Lands and fights Jamshid
Shah, the local ruler. He then goes to the land of Sâhel and fights
Tahmâs, the champion-warrior of the people of Sâhel, and pro-
ceeds to the Pass of Dâl and fights with Salsâl. The Moslem army
is victorious in all these battles. Mâlek Ashtar, Qanbar, and Amr
Omayye are escorting Ali and assist him in these ventures. Finally,
they all return to Medina.
Khâvar-nâme is fiction throughout, and although its heroes such

as Ali, Mâlek‑e Ashtar, Abu’l-Mehjan, and Sa’d‑e Vaqqâs are all
historical characters, the plot of the story bears no relation to re-
ality. In the lithographed editions of Khâvar-nâme, Abu’l-Meh-
jan appears as Abu’l-Me’jan and Mâlek‑e Ashtar as Mâlek‑e Azh-
dar. Amr Omayye exhibits many ayyâri acts, and Ali is depicted
132 Elâhi, “Pas az khwândan‑e ketâbi. p. 142.
428
without the aura of immaculate holiness appropriate to a Shi’i

imam, but is capable of lying just like ordinary folk.133
The book is replete with naqqâli expressions and phrases and
motifs. Dreams play a large part in the story. Many a time the
Prophet enters the dream of an individual and consequently con-
verts him to Islam;134 or they serve as portents; future events ap-
pear in the heroes’ dreams, and the Prophet guides them in their
dreams.135
Not all the contents of the naqqâli version of Khâvar-nâme ac-
cord with the versified version. Khâvar-nâme falls in the category
of religious Shi’ite stories and when one compares it with Mokhtâr-
nâme and Mosayyeb-nâme, one may conclude that the stories of
preachers from the pulpit and religious eulogizers tend to conform
more closely to historical facts than the tales of the naqqâls.
Qesse-ye Hoseyn‑e Kord‑e Shabestari or Hoseyn-nâme
Among the stories of the naqqâls, historical material is more ev-

ident in the Qesse-ye Hoseyn‑e Kord‑e Shabestari than in all the
others. The adventures in this story occur during the reign of the
Safavid Shah Abbâs (r. 1588–1628). The eponymous hero comes
from the ranks of the common people and had begun life as a shep-
herd. He is later trained by one of the champion-warriors at the
court of Shah Abbâs called Masih Tokme-band Tabrizi.
The other title for Qesse-ye Hoseyn‑e Kord‑e Shabestari is
Yatim-nâme. Yatim is used here in the sense of a novice or a cham-
pion new to his art and is mentioned as such in the 16th century
in the book Badâye’ al-vaqâye’ (Strange Events).136 In this story,
Hoseyn Kord has the status of a yatim.137 We know of two dis-
tinct versions of Qesse-ye Hoseyn‑e Kord‑e Shabestari. One is a
133 Ebn-Hosâm, Khâvar-nâme, lith. ed. of Abd-al-Hoseyn Khwânsâri (Tehran,

1864) pp. 41, 43, 101, 130.
134 Ebn-Hosâm, Khâvar-nâme, lith. ed., pp. 70, 80.
135 Ebn-Hosâm, Khâvar-nâme, lith. ed., pp. 30, 85, 135.
136 Vâsefi, Badâye’ al-vaqâye’, I, pp. 482–83, 485, II, p. 234.
137 Ketâb‑e Hoseyn‑e Kord‑e Shabestari al-mosammâ be Yatim-nâme, p. 14.
429
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relatively slim volume that has been printed many times in the Qa-
jar period and afterwards.138 The story starts with a grievance: Ma-
sih Tokme-band Tabrizi has created mayhem in Balkh and Khatâ
and has killed two Uzbek commanders. Thus Abd-Allâh Khan the
Uzbek (r. 1583–97) and Shah Jahân of Khatâ decide to take revenge.
They send their troops, led by the two commanders Babrâz Khan
and Akhtar Khan, to Iran with a mission to kill Masih Tokme-
band and to bring home the severed head of Shah Abbâs. This out-
line at the beginning of the story is proof enough that the litho-
graphed texts of Qesse-ye Hoseyn‑e Kord, and the later popular
commercial prints based on them, are segments from a much larger
work in which the earlier parts of the story, such as the account
of Masih going to Balkh and the account of his creating mayhem
there, were described, though at present the manuscript of the de-
tailed and complete version appears lost without a trace.
In the lithograph editions and the later commercial prints, the
Uzbek commanders enter Iran incognito, and they then divide into
two groups. One goes to Isfahan, and the other proceeds to Tabriz,
in order to perpetuate murder and sabotage. Here Hoseyn-e Kord,
who is a powerfully built shepherd, enters the scene. He receives
training at the hand of Masih Tokme-band Tabrizi and Bâbâ Hasan
Bid-âbâdi,and acquires martial skills. He kills Babrâz Khan and
Akhtar Khan and then travels to India. The major portion of the
book concerns his many adventures in Indian cities, in particular
in Shahjahanabad and Hyderabad.
The other version of Hoseyn-e Kord is called Hoseyn-nâme,
which exists in a manuscript (no. 162) at the Russian Academy of
Sciences in St. Petersburg. It differs greatly from the lithographed
editions discussed above and is far more voluminous. It is also the
oldest manuscript of Qesse‑e ye Hoseyn‑e Kord hitherto found. It
has two dates for being copied, 1840 and 1844. The first part, dated
1840 , contains the bulk of the book, while the second part, dated
1844, contains a brief story about the voyages and battles of Mir
Esmâ’il, the son of Bâqer Âjor-paz (the Brick-Maker) and shows
influences from Qesse-ye Hamze. The most distinguishing factor
138 Marzolph, Narrative Illustration, p. 299.
430
regarding Hoseyn-nâme, in relation to the lithographed Hoseyn‑e

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

Kord,” Deccan Studies 2/2 (July–December 2004), p. 73.
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Rostam-nâme and the Naqqâli Tumârs (Scrolls)

of the Shâh-nâme
The influence and impact of Ferdowsi’s Shâh-nâme on Iranian cul-

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

141 For further information, see Dj. Khalaghi-Motlagh, “Babr‑e bayan,” in EIr,
III, pp. 324–25.
432
Shâh-nâme. After this, we return again to the stories that appear in

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

Haft Lashkar was extremely popular among the naqqâls.142
There is another book, entitled Rostam-nâme, which appeared
in several lithographed editions even before the manuscript of Haft
Lashkar, including one dated 1862.143 In essence, it is a naqqâli
scroll that, contrary to the traditional scrolls of the Shâh-nâme, be-
gins with the birth of Rostam and ends with the final days of Afrâ-
siyâb. It is thus an abridged and incomplete scroll which attracted
fame in the Qajar period through its lithographed edition, along
with the other two popular lithographed books, Hoseyn‑e Kord‑e
Shabestari and Amir Arsalân.144 The writing of naqqâli scrolls has
survived to the present era, and most of the famous naqqâls leave
behind scrolls of their own.
Bustân‑e khiyâl
The strangest and longest of all popular stories in the naqqâli genre
is Bustân‑e khiyâl, which was compiled in India in the 18th century.
Its writer and compiler was Mir Mohammad-Taqi Ja’fari Hoseyni
Ahmadâbâdi whose pen-name in his poems was “Khiyâl.” He was
born in Ahmadabad in Gujarat and was a grandson of Mohammad
Ghowth Gawaliyâri (d. 1562) and a student of Mohammad Afzal
Thâbet Allâhâbâdi (d. 1738). He belonged to the entourage of Serâj-
al-Dowle (Siraj ud-Daulah), the Nawab of Bengal (r. 1756–57). He
died in 1760 at Morshidabad.145 Ja’fari Hoseyni began his famous
book Bustân‑e khiyâl in 1742 at Shahjahanabad and finished it at
Morshidabad in 1756.146
142 This scroll has been edited and published by Mehran Afshari and Mehdi
Madâyeni, based on the unicum MS. of 1875 kept at the Majles library in
Tehran (Tehran, 1998).
143 Ulrich Marzolph, Narrative Illustration in Persian Lithographed Books, p. 259.
144 Mohammad-Ja’far Mahjub, Adabiyyât‑e ‘ âmmiyâne-ye Irân, I, pp. 473–76.
145 Mohammad Yusof-Ali Sabâ, Tadhkere-ye Ruz‑e rowshan, ed. Moham-
mad-Hoseyn Roknzâde Âdamiyyat (Tehran, 1965), p. 250.
146 Mahjub, Adabiyyât‑e âmmiyâne-ye Irân, I, p. 620.
434
Bustân‑e khiyâl consists of three long and interconnected stories

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

of its volumes are called Khorshid-nâme and its second volume is
called Shâhnâme-ye bozorg (great Shâh-nâme) and this volume, in
itself is divided into two sections called shatr (part).151 Although
Ja’fari Hoseyni was himself a naqqâl and Bustân‑e khiyâl is writ-
ten throughout in the style of the naqqâls, it seems unlikely that his
book was ever used for recitation in coffee-houses by the naqqâls.
Bustân‑e khiyâl is an example of the Persian prose of the Indian

subcontinent in the 18th century. The most complete manuscript
of the text is found in the Bodleian library in Oxford (no. 480);
copies also exist at the India Office Library, London (now part of
the British Library, nos. 833–845), and in India in the Bankipore
Oriental Public Library (nos. 749–765) and in the Bihar Library
(nos. 448–460). Some sections of Bustân‑e khiyâl have appeared in
lithographed editions (Bombay, 1892; Lahore, 1918; and Peshawar,
1964),152 but a complete edition has yet to appear in print. Parts
of Bustân‑e khiyâl have been translated several times into Urdu,
including an Urdu abridgment, which was published in Bhagalpur
under the title of Zobdat al-khiyâl in 1844.153
Amir Arsalân
The last naqqâli story to achieve great fame in Iran was Qesse-ye
Amir Arsalân It was compiled by Mohammad-Ali Naqib-al-
Mamâlek Shirâzi, who was Nâser-al-Din Shah’s (r. 1848–96) per-
sonal naqqâl. Naqib-al-Mamâlek used to recount portions of the
story by the shah’s bedside until he fell asleep. One of the shah’s
daughters, Turân Âghâ, entitled Fakhr-al-Dowle, who used to
151 Ethé, “Neupersische Literatur,” tr. Shafaq, p. 218; Mahjub, Adabiyyât‑e

âmmiyâne-ye Irân, I, pp. 621–23.
152 Âref Nowshâhi, Fehrest‑e ketâbhâ-ye Fârsi-ye châpi-ye sangi va kamyâb‑e
ketâb-khâne-ye Ganjbakhsh (Islamabad, 1986), pp. 555–56.
153 Akhtar Râhi Safir, Tarjome-hâ-ye motun‑e Fârsi be-zabânhâ-ye pâkestâni
(Islamabad, 1986), p. 257.
436
listen to the story from another room, wrote it all down quickly.154
It is probable that Fakhr-al-Dowle completed her copying of the
story around 1880.155 Naqib-al-Mamâlek also composed another
story entitled Malek Jamshid (King Jamshid), Telesm‑e Âsef va
hamâm‑e bolur (Âsef’s Talisman and the Crystal Bath), which has
much in common with Amir Arsalân in terms of phrases and the
poems in it.
The main protagonist in Amir Arsalân is its eponymous hero
who is the son of Malekshâh, King of Rum. In the course of an
episode, he comes across a picture of Farrokh-leqâ, the daughter of
Petrus, the Farangi king, and loses his heart to her. In order to ob-
tain her hand, he sets out for Farang, the land of his foes. As soon
as Amir Arsalân arrives in Farang, he rushes to see Farrokh-leqâ
in the cover of the night, stealthily enters her palace, and realizes
that Farrokh-leqâ is also in love with him. The two lovers manage
to meet on many occasions in private and engage in dalliance. The
prefect of the town is also seeking to marry Farrokh-leqâ, but he
is killed by Amir Arsalân. Petrus Shah tries to find out who had
murdered his prefect. He has two viziers: Shams the Vizier, who
is a Moslem and good-natured, though he has to hide his religion;
and Qamar the Vizier, who is an evil-natured and cunning sor-
cerer but has the shah’s trust. This sub-plot of a king with a good
vizier and a bad one has precedents in popular stories of previous
eras.156 The wicked Qamar the Vizier is himself in love with Far-
rokh-leqâ, although he has kept this secret from everyone. Since he
is a sorcerer, he has put Farrokh-leqâ under a spell so that he can
marry her. Qamar the Vizier manages through trickery to throw
Shams the Vizier into prison. Amir Arsalân is unaware of the fact
that Shams the Vizier is on his side and Qamar the Vizier is, on the
contrary, his rival and enemy. He is duped by Qamar the Vizier
and reveals his identity to him. Qamar the Vizier manages through
sorcery to kidnap Farrokh-leqâ and hides her. In his search for
154 Dust-Ali Mo’ayyer-al-Mamâlek, “Rejâl‑e ahd‑e Nâseri,” Yaghmâ 12 (1955–

56), p. 556.
155 Christophe Balaÿ, La genèse du roman persan moderne, tr. Mahvash Qavimi
and Nasrin Khattât as Paydâyesh-e rumân-e Fârsi (Tehran, 1998), p. 243.
156 Jamâl Mir-Sâdeqi, Adabiyyât‑e dâstâni, pp. 63–64.
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Farrokh-leqâ, Amir Arsalân wanders off into deserts and strange

and bewitched lands and suffers many a hardship. In the course of
some adventures, he encounters jinns and paris and falls into the
hands of Marjâne the Witch. He goes to the Sangbârân citadel and
kills Fulâd-zere the Div. When he finds out that all the evil and
mayhem had emanated from Qamar the Vizier, he manages, under
the guidance of Shams the Vizier, to kill Qamar the Vizier and find
Farrokh-leqâ. Finally, Petrus Shah is reconciled to him and the two
lovers marry and return to Rum.157
According to Mahjub the widespread popularity and superiority
of Amir Arsalân is due its depiction of the variety of scenes and
adventures.158 One of the most important virtues of the story has
to do with its powerful evocation of events, arousing the reader’s
curiosity to pursue the course of events to their end.159 The story
also contains echoes of historical facts. The name of the main hero
is reminiscent of Alp-Arsalân, the famous Seljuk monarch (r. 1063–
1072). Thus in the story itself, their position is revered and Arsalân
becomes Malekshâh’s son. Their reign in Rum is also reminiscent
of the reign of Seljuks of Rum (Anatolia), and the enmity between
the Moslems of Asia Minor and the Christian ‘Franks’ is also based
on historical facts.160
Apparently Naqib-al-mamâlek had some knowledge of life in
Europe, based on hearsay or his reading of travel books and mixed
and fused together in his imagination theatres and opera-houses in
Europe with coffee-houses in Iran and created in his story a space
called Tamâshâ-khâne-ye Farang (European Playhouse), where
much of the action takes place.161
157 Mohammad-Ali Naqib-al-Mamalek of Shiraz, Amir Arsalân, ed. M. J.

Mahjub (Tehran, 1970). This is a complete and scholarly edition of the book
based on a private manuscript belonging to Mo’ir-al-Mamâlek dated 1888
(1305 Q.) with a detailed and erudite introduction. The location of this MS
is unknown at present.
158 Naqib-al-Mamâlek, Amir Arsalân, preface, p. 22.
159 Golâm-Hoseyn Yusofi, Didâr bâ ahl‑e qalam (2 vols., Mashhad, 1978–79)
II, pp. 13, 17–19.
160 Naqib-al-Mamâlek, Amir Arsalân, preface, pp. 5–6.
161 Naqib-al-Mamâlek, Amir Arsalân, preface, pp. 24–26.
438
Amir Arsalân had such a strong impact on popular culture in

Iran that even today some of the characters in the story are used as
familiar prototypes in everyday parlance. For example, the entry of
a mischievous troublemaker is referred to as the arrival of Qamar
the Vizier, and a shrewish and ugly old woman is compared to the
mother of the div Fulâd-zere (mâdar‑e Fulâd-zere).
4. Shorter Popular Stories Written

in the Style of Naqqâli
Among the popular stories composed in the Safavid period and

later, there are a number of stories in naqqâli circles that have not
been transformed from oral delivery to a written naqqâli format.
Instead, they are written by anonymous writers in the manner of
Persian popular stories. Even if the writers of these shorter sto-
ries were not professional storytellers, they are certainly familiar
with the motifs that one finds in naqqâli stories and even with the
expressions and idiosyncrasies of their diction, perhaps through
their perusal or through frequent attendance at their performances;
and they used them in their own work. Some of these stories were
frequently published in lithographs in the 19th century and hence
reached widespread fame. Their lithographed editions, like their
various surviving manuscripts, vary from each other, owing to dif-
ferent scribal changes and emendations. These texts not only pro-
vide some entertainment for the public at large, but also reflect the
same public’s social customs and beliefs.
Love is the topic of many of these short tales; the love of a prince
and a princess and their final union. One of these short roman-
tic stories with many extant manuscript copies in libraries in Iran,
India, and Europe, perhaps surpassing all other popular stories
in this aspect, is Qesse-ye Mehr o Mâh. The existence of so many
manuscripts is indicative of the story’s great popularity in the past.
Nevertheless, since it was never issued in a lithograph edition, it
has remained unknown in Iran in more recent times.
439
PERSIAN PROSE
The story concerns the love of the prince Mehr, from the eastern
lands, who is a son of Khâvar Shâh, for the princess Mâh, from the
western lands, who is the daughter of Helâl Maghrebi. The two lov-
ers undergo a great deal of suffering and hardship before they are
finally united. The narrative is full of supernatural elements such
as magic, charms, and witchcraft. The writer/compiler of Qesse-ye
Mehr o Mâh has taken the main plot and characters of the story
from the romantic mathnavi of Mehr o Mâh composed by Jamâli of
Delhi, a poet and mystic of the late 15th and early 16th centuries. But
he has added additional material of his own and made alterations
in the narrative. For example, he has reversed the names of the two
main characters, so that, contrary to Jamâli’s poem, here Mehr is
male and Mâh female, and the book itself is written in a popular
style with many motifs from Persian popular stories mixed in. What
is interesting in the tale is the familiarity of the writer with astro-
logical sciences and his choice of planets and stars for the names of
the characters in the book, for example: Mehr, Mâh, Otâred, Zohre,
Nâhid, Moshtari (Sun, Moon, Mercury, Venus, Jupiter).162 In some
of the manuscripts, one can more or less detect features characteris-
tic of Persian prose of the Indian subcontinent.
Among other short popular tales with love as their leitmotif is

Qesse-ye Nush-âfarin‑e Gowhar-tâj. Manuscripts of the tale are
rare but there are several lithographed editions.163 Nush-âfarin
Gowhar-tâj is the daughter of the king of Damascus, and many
suitors go to Damascus seeking her hand, but Nush-âfarin loves
only the Chinese prince Soltân Ebrâhim, and in order to succeed in
marrying Nush-âfarin, he defeats all other suitors. This is the same
motif that appears in the beginning of Samak‑e ayyâr and Qesse-ye
Firuzshâh. Whenever Soltân Ebrâhim and Nush-âfarin try to begin
their life of marital bliss, some odd catastrophe occurs and inter-
venes, and it is these tumultuous events that maintain and drive the
reader’s attention to read the story to the end, although he or she
162 Qesse-ye Mehr o Mâh, ed. Mohammad-Hoseyn Eslâm-panâh (Tehran,

2010), editor’s preface, p. 12.
163 Ulrich Marzolph, Narrative Illustration in Persian Lithographed Books, p. 256.
440
knows full well that in the end Soltân Ebrâhim and Nush-âfarin
will live happily ever after. Of course, in this story Soltân Ebrâhim,
like other princes in Persian popular tales, marries several times and
Nush-âfarin is not his only spouse. A German translation of this
story by Rudolf Gelpke was published in Zurich in 1969.
Another romantic story in this category is Qesse-ye Shiruye or

Shiruye nâmdâr. This is the story of the younger son of Soltân Malek
of Rum who is called Shiruye and promised the succession by his
father, thus instigating the bitter envy of his elder brother, Arche,
who throws Shiruye down a well, reminiscent of Joseph’s fate at the
hands of his brothers in the Bible and the Qur’an. Shiruye is rescued
from the well by a merchant and, dressed as a wandering dervish,
accompanies him to Yemen, a land hostile to Shiruye’s family. There,
he falls in love with Simin Edhâr, the daughter of Mondhar, the king
of Yemen, and she with him. The lovers undergo many events and
adventures before they are finally united. Shiruye also married Gol-
chehre, the daughter of Khojand, the vizier of the king of Yemen
and has a son from her called Jahângir. The son, too, has a romantic
adventure of his own and falls in love with a girl called Ghonche-
del and they finally marry. In this book, too, there is much sorcery
and talk of divs and paris. Shiruye befriends Shâhrokh-Pari, who
is a male pari and who assists him against his enemies. The name
and the episode of Shâhrokh-Pari is mentioned towards the end of
Amir-Arsalân, with some differences.164 Given the fact that Shiruye,
like Amir Arsalân, is the son of the King of Rum, Mohammad-Ja’far
Mahjub, the editor of Amir Arsalân, is of the opinion that in com-
posing Amir Arsalân, Naqib-al-Mamâlek was more or less inspired
and influenced by Qesse-ye Shiruye.165 Finally Shiruye invades Rum
with an army and defeats his brother Arche, but he then pardons
him and hands over the throne of Rum to him.
A story of this same type that is more extensive than Nush Âfarin
and Qesse-ye Shiruye is Qesse-ye Vâmeq o Adhrâ by Âqâ Mirzâ
164 Naqib-al-Mamâlek Shirâzi, Amir Arsalân, p. 300.

165 Naqib-al-Mamâlek Shirâzi, Amir Arsalân, editor’s preface, pp. 7–8.
441
PERSIAN PROSE
Ebrâhim Kermâni, who took the nom de plume of Zahir in his

poetry. The book adopts a semi-literary language, particularly in
the preface, and less of everyday popular diction than the two pre-
viously mentioned stories. We do not have any information about
the author, but his book is replete with motifs culled from popular
tales, and from time to time he imitates the discourse of the naqqâls.
There are also many poems scattered throughout the book, and
verses from the Qur’an are also quoted in appropriate places. In
this story there is no distinction between divs, jinns, and paris.
Adhrâ, the daughter of Malek Shahbâl Jenni, the king of Jâbolsâ
(an eastern city in legendary Islamic geography), who happens to
be a pari, one day goes out with her ladies-in-waiting for a plea-
sure tour and sees Vâmeq, the grandson of Shah Nâser, the brother
of Belqis (Queen of Sheba in the Qur’an), and falls in love with
him. In order to make Vâmeq fall in love with Adhrâ as well, her
governess uses all her guile and succeeds in gaining an entrance to
the palace of the king of Sheba, bearing a picture of Adhrâ. Upon
seeing the picture, Vâmeq falls in love with her. On the plain out-
side the city, Adhrâ, the pari, transforms herself into a gazelle and
manages to have Vâmeq follow her. After meeting with Adhrâ and
her subsequent disappearance, Vâmeq goes in search of her and in
the process encounters dog-headed men, cannibals, and jinns with
lasso-like spindly legs (davâl-pâys) and succeeds in killing them all.
Vâmeq has a friend of the same age as him, Âsef the Second (Âsef‑e
thâni), who is the son of Âsef b. Barkhiyâ, Solomon’s vizier. His friend
falls in love with Shekar-dokht, the daughter of the Chinese emperor.
A lot of adventures befall them all and they fight with sorcerers, paris,
and divs until the two pairs of lovers finally manage to unite in matri-
mony. Vâmeq and Adhrâ go to the land of Sheba and they have several
children. This story is entirely different from that contained in the
fragments of the metrical version by the Ghaznavid poet Onsori (d.
1040). There are several stories concerning Vâmeq and Adhrâ in Per-
sian literature that differ from the book by Zahir Kermâni.166
166 Mirzâ Ebrâhim Zahir Kermâni, Vâmeq o Adhrâ, ed. Asad-Allâh Shahri-
yâri (Mashhad, 1991), editor’s preface, pp. 16–27; see also Hägg and Utas,
The Virgin and her Lover for the various versions and pp. 208–11 on Zahir
Kermâni.
442
Another popular tale whose topic sets it apart from other stories
is the relatively brief story of Salim‑e Javâheri (Salim the Jewel-
ler). The events take place at the court of Hajjâj b. Yusof (d. 714),
the oppressive ruler of the town of Wâsit in Iraq. Salim‑e Javâheri,
a prisoner of his, is taken to his court to recount his life story to
Hajjâj, so that Hajjâj’s wish could be fulfilled; for he had desired to
have someone relate a story to him which would make him both
laugh and cry. Salim‑e Javâheri tells his story: that he is the son of a
wealthy jeweller of Wâsit; that after his father’s death, he squanders
away his wealth by having a good time until he and his wife are left
penurious. He then bids his wife farewell and goes to Syria in search
of work. In the town of Tarsus in Syria he encounters the army of
Herqel (Heracles) and is incarcerated by the Christians. In a dream
the Prophet appears to him and instructs him on how to kill the
prison warden and escape. While he is escaping from the clutches of
the Christians, he reaches various lands and isles and is involved in
many an adventure. While listening to Salim’s story, Hajjâj laughs
on several occasions and cries on others. He sets him free and sends
him home with a reward. From then on, Salim‑e Javâheri joins the
circle of Hajjâj’s friends and pays frequent visits to his court. He dies
at the age of 140, and since towards the end of his life his prayers and
supplications appeared to have been answered, the people of Wâsit
build a shrine and mausoleum for him. His story bears similarities
with that of Sinbad the Sailor in One Thousand and One Nights.
It is possible that the story of Salim is the work of a preacher.
In different stages of the story, Salim seeks God’s assistance when
faced with calamities and is ever hopeful of God’s bounty and the
Prophet’s assistance through his dreams. Thus, in an oblique fash-
ion, the audience is encouraged to place his/her faith and trust in
God and His Prophet.
It is interesting to note that as well as several versions and man-
uscripts, a version of Salim‑e Javâheri is embedded in the Turk-
ish story of Qesse-ye Sayyed Joneyd.167 The ending of the Turkish
story differs from the others. Both of these have been edited and
published by Mohammad Ja’fari-Qanavâti (Tehran, 2007).
167 Tarsusi, Abu-Moslem-nâme, I, footnote, p. 356.
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PERSIAN PROSE
Another short popular tale in which, as in Salim‑e Javâheri, the

eponymous hero relates his own life story is Qesse-ye Ashraf Khân
va sargozasht‑e se darvish (Story of Ashraf Khan and Three Der-
vishes), more commonly known by the title of Chahâr darvish
(Four Dervishes). Soltân Ashraf Khan, the ruler of Khorasan, en-
counters three dervishes from the Qalandariyye order. Each of the
three dervishes declaims a single line of Persian poetry in a loud
voice. When Ashraf Khan asks the reason for this, each dervish
recounts his own life story, which involves a romantic episode. At
the end, Ashraf Khan, too, relates his own life story. This slim
volume has been printed several times in Iran, and it has also been
published under its original title, Ashraf Khân va sargozasht‑e se
darvish, edited by Mohammad Dâmâdi (Tehran, 1990). Chahâr
darvish is also the title of a Persian story well-known in the Indian
subcontinent, written in the 18th century and wrongly attributed
to the famous poet Amir Khosrow Dehlavi (d. 1325). This story
concerns the Sultan of Rum, who is called Âzâd-bakht, and his son
Bakhtiyâr, and their dealings with four dervishes.168 There are sev-
eral versions of this story but they are different from the popular
story of the four dervishes (Qesse-ye chahâr darvish).
One of the leitmotifs of the shorter popular stories that is rarely
seen in the long naqqâli stories is the topic of “the wiles of women”
(makr‑e zanân), which depicts women as guileful beings and ex-
pounds on their deceitfulness, including the way they succeed in
cheating on their husbands through cunning stratagems.169 The
Persian literary texts containing a greater proportion of anecdotes
and stories about wiles of women, such as Sendbâd-nâme (Book
of Sendbâd), Bakhtiyâr-nâme (Book of Bakhtiyâr), and Tuti-nâme
(Book of the Parrot), have an Indian pedigree and it seems that
the topos of “the wiles of women” has entered Persian storytelling
through the literature and culture of ancient India.
168 Ahmad Monzavi, Fehrestvâre-ye ketâbhâ-ye Fârsi (12 vols., Tehran, 1994–
2007), I, pp. 311–12.
169 On “the wiles of women,” see Margaret Mills, “Whose Best Tricks? Makr-i
Zan as a Topos in Persian Oral Literature,” IrSt 32/2 (1999), pp. 261–70.
444
One of the short Persian popular stories which is entirely on the

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

brary, Tehran, no. 14215), which was written down in Aurangabad
in 1740, contains the Qesse-ye Dalile Mohtâle with seventeen ac-
counts and episodes of Dalle’s or Dalile’s machinations. She and
her family, who are all cunning thieves, finally escape the clutches
of Hârun-al-Rashid and flee from Baghdad to Basra where they all
die in a fire. The writer refers to them as malâ’in, the accursed ones.
Chehel tuti (Forty Parrots) is another famous popular tale deal-

ing with the topic of the wiles of women. This small book is an
abridged and popularized version of the classical Persian Ketâb‑e
tuti-nâme, which exists in several versions174 and the origins of
which can be traced to India. In Chehel tuti, a merchant who had
been reluctant to marry finally chooses a wife and buys her a pair
of parrots to amuse and entertain her. One day, when the merchant
is about to go on a voyage, he instructs the parrots to remain alert
to ensure that the wife behaves herself. By chance the prince of
that town catches sight of the merchant’s wife and falls in love with
her. He asks an old crone to bring about their marriage. With the
merchant away on his trip, the crone seizes the opportunity and
goes to the merchant’s home and describes the prince to the mer-
chant’s wife in glowing terms. In the evening the wife decides to
go to the prince, but the male parrot chastises her. She is enraged
by this and kills the male parrot. The female parrot entertains the
wife with her words and tells her a story until late into the night,
and the wife decides to postpone her visit to the prince to the next
day. But every night when the wife decides to set out to see the
prince, the parrot embarks on another story and manages to oc-
cupy her attention until again it becomes too late for a visit which
is deferred to the next day. This episode is repeated every night
until finally the merchant returns from his journey and realizes
that his wife had intended to deceive him. He kills the old duenna
who had led his wife astray and punishes his wife and divorces her
174 Monzavi, Fehrestvâre-ye ketâbhâ-ye fârsi, I, pp. 437–40. See also Ziyâ-
al-Din Nakhshabi, Tuti-nâme, ed. Fath-Allâh Mojtabâ’i and Gholâm-Ali
Âryâ (Tehran, 1991).
446
and expresses much gratitude towards the parrot. The round figure
of forty, chehel, is introduced to convey a sense of multitude. In
fact, the number of the stories in the book does not add up to more
than ten to fifteen. Some of the stories are well-known popular
tales such as the story of morgh‑e sa’âdat, the bird of happiness, or
morgh‑e tokhm‑e talâ, the bird of the golden egg, in which eating
parts of the bird would induce felicity and good fortune. Indeed,
two brothers, Sa’d and Sa’id, do eat a part and attain happiness and
good fortune. A musical film was based on this story, scripted by
Parviz Khatibi and directed by Mehdi Ra’is-Firuz (1972).
Another familiar story is that of a princess who tests her suitors

by posing riddles to them and is the dominant theme of a popular
story in Persian, that of Haft seyr‑e Hâtem. Here Hâtem Tâ’i, the
legendary generous patron in the Jâhili era, encounters a prince
who is a suitor to the princess, who has insisted on marrying only
the person who can solve her riddles. In order to enable the prince
to marry the princess, Hâtem undertakes seven voyages of discov-
ery to decipher the riddles. In another version of the same story, it
is Hâtem himself who is a suitor and who marries the princess after
his journeys. The latter version is entitled Haft ensâf‑e Hâtem. Both
versions have been published in two volumes under the general title
of Hâtem-nâme, edited by Hoseyn Esmâ’ili (Tehran, 2006).
5. Maqtal Books and Stories Related to Karbala
Any study of popular stories and tales in Persian would be incom-

plete without some reference to the narrative genre of maqtal. Ma-
qtal is the title given to books that attempt, on the basis of histor-
ical accounts, to describe in vivid and precise detail the events that
occurred at Karbala and the manner of the martyrdom of the third
Imam of the Shi’ites, Hoseyn b. Ali, at the hands of the followers
of Yazid b. Mo’aviye (r. 680–83).175
175 Ebn-al-Nadim, Fehrest, I/2, p. 292.
447
PERSIAN PROSE
The professional religious eulogisers (manâqeb-khwânân or

maddâhân) who were a branch of the fotovvat order, would, at
times in their public performances, recite some verses about Kar-
bala’s tragic events.176 As mentioned earlier, Mowlânâ Hoseyn
Vâ’ez Kâshefi’s Rowzat al shohadâ (Garden of the Martyrs) deals
with this subject thoroughly. From the Safavid Period onwards,
manâqeb-khwâni, maddâhi, and rowze-khwâni (i. e. recital of
Rowzat al-shohadâ) became popular and fused together. During
the Qajar period (1779–1925), reciting stories about the Karbala
martyrs became very popular, so much so that the reciters tried to
stir up feelings of the audience in order to make them cry. Accord-
ing to Ebn-al-Jowzi (d. 1201), in the 12 th century, preachers were in
the habit of making their audience, particularly the women, weep
as they listened to their elegiac recitations about mortality and
those who had passed away.177 It should of course be borne in mind
that most of the preachers who addressed the public from pulpits
of mosques or Sufi hospices before the 16th century in Iran were
Sunnis. After the advent of the Safavid dynasty, this old tradition
of preachers inducing their audience, and particularly the women
amongst them, to weep was fused together with the recital of the
tragic events at Karbala and stories about the twelve Shi’i Imams
by the Shi’i religious eulogisers. There were even books written
which usually had the Arabic word bokâ’ (weeping) in their titles,
and in this section, two of these will be mentioned; although they
belong to the literary genre of maqtal, both have popular myths
and stories embedded in them. These stories, in spite of their pop-
ularity, have rarely survived in a written form.
The first is one of the best known maqtal books in Persian,
Tufân al-bokâ’, written by Mohammad Ebrâhim Jowhari, an ele-
giac poet of the 19th century. The book was completed in 1834 and
is a mélange of the prose of manâqeb-khwâns with poems, mostly
in a mournful dirge-like mode. It is also replete with short reli-
gious stories, including the story of the wedding of Qoreysh. This
176 As an example, verses from the celebrated 14 th-century manâqeb-khwân in
Hasan Kâshi, Divân, ed. Sayyed Abbâs Rastâkhiz (Tehran, 2009), pp. 74–75.
177 Abu’l-Faraj Ebn-al-Jowzi, Talbis Eblis, ed. al-Seyyid al-Jamili (Beirut,
1989), p. 152.
448
is still performed in some towns in Iran, including Tehran, in

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

1986), pp. 40–43.
179 On javânmard‑e qassâb, see Afshâri, Tâze be tâze, now be now, pp. 127–33.
180 Mohammad-Hoseyn Shahrâbi (Geryân), Tariq al-bokâ’ (lithograph ed.,
Tehran, n. d.), pp. 75–88.
449
PERSIAN PROSE
Another famous story in the book is that of Darvish‑e Kâboli

(the dervish from Kabul). Just before Imam Hoseyn’s martyrdom
at Karbala, the dervish carries some water for the Imam in the Kar-
bala desert in his kashkul (traditional boat-shaped bowl). But the
Imam tells him that he has himself opted for the fate to die thirsty
as a martyr.181 The ordinary public in Iran were entertained by
these stories and, at the same time, believed in their credibility.
An overall review of popular stories in Persian literature shows

that they were always affected by Islamic culture and lore, with
the religious coloring varying in degree from story to story, deeper
in some, and paler in others; but from the time of the Safavids
onwards, the Shi’i coloring became increasingly visible in popu-
lar stories. The storytellers and orators from the pulpit, as well as
transmitting stories, were, in a way, proselytizers for the Shi’i faith
among the masses. The lore and beliefs of the common people were
mixed with their stories and instructions. What is noteworthy is
that the Shi’ite beliefs of the above group of people were of the
kind held by the fotovvat and qalandariyye communities and or-
ders, and therefore more or less tinged with the ideas of the gholât
(extremists) of the Shi’is and hence radically different from the be-
liefs held by the ‘orthodox’ Twelver Shi’i scholars.
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454
CHAPTER 9
POPULAR ANECDOTES AND SATIRE
Mehran Afshari1
Persian literature is not confined to written works in prose and

verse. This literature, when addressed to the general public, a ma-
jority of whom were often illiterate, appears in oral form. Enter-
tainment for Persian speakers was not restricted to wandering
street entertainers (ma’rake-girân) and the professional narrators
(naqqâlân) of coffee-houses; it also included the short didactic
and religious stories and tales told by Muslim preachers from the
pulpits (menbars) of mosques, or in Sufi gatherings at monasteries
(khânaqâhs), or at local assembly centers (tekiyes). The preachers,
whose task was to encourage adherence to religious laws and Is-
lamic morality, often narrated short tales (hekâyât) as part of their
religious sermons.
1. Preachers and their Relations with Persian Tales

and the Variety of Tales
Preachers, fittingly for their profession, knew a large number of

tales by heart, so that they could narrate them within their ser-
mons as the occasion arose. In a session which was usually about
an hour long, the preacher could retell several of these short stories
(hekâyât). These preaching sessions were not only limited to Iran
and other Persian speaking regions but were common all over the
Islamic world. Their roots go back to the first Islamic community
1 I would like to express my deep gratitude to Dr. Parvin Loloi for her metic-
ulous translation of this chapter from the original Persian.
455
PERSIAN PROSE
established in the Hejaz (in the north-western region of the pres-

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

Swartz (Beirut, 1971), pp. 22–23.
3 Ebn-al-Jowzi, Ketâb al-qossâs, pp. 9–11.
4 Abu Othmân Omar b. Bahr Jâhez, al-Bayân va’l-tabyin, ed. Abd-al-Salâm
Mohammad Hârun (4 vols., Beirut, 1948), I, pp. 367–69.
5 Ebn-al-Jowzi, Ketâb al-qossâs, p. 144.
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Popular Anecdotes and Satire
sessions and narrating false stories to the general public.7 This last
statement is comparable to Râgheb Esfahâni’s (d. 1109) accounts of
the ridiculous stories that these preachers quoted.8
A valuable book in Persian has survived from the 13th century, as
written by a vâ’ez with an inclination towards Sufism. Mohammad
b. Hasan b. Fazl b. Hoseyn Vâ’ez, known as Jamâl Ostâji, preached
during 1228–29 in Bukhara.9 This book is a good source of infor-
mation about the nature of such preaching sessions and about the
stories that he preached to the people of Bukhara.
The various stories that Ostâji narrates for his audience include
some stories about the Israelite prophets, such as the story of Mo-
ses10 or Joseph11; others concern “the friends of God” (owliyâ-ye
Khodâ) and Sufis, such as Râbe’e and Hasan of Basra,12 Abu-Torâb
Nakhshabi,13 and Abu’l-Hoseyn Nuri.14 Yet others are about rul-
ers and kings, such as the story of the third amir of the Taherid
dynasty, Abd-Allâh b. Tâher15 (r. 828–45). Some of Ostâji’s stories
are called latife (amusing anecdotes) that, while pleasant to listen to,
are also instructive as well as being humorous.16
When we compare Ostâji’s tales with those in other Persian
story books such as Owfi’s Javâme’ al-hekâyât (Compendium
of Stories), we recognize similarities in the kinds of entertaining
stories being told. Simplified versions of most of the Persian tales
which deal with the Israelite prophets have been cast in the form
of myths and fables. They are also found in the Fotovvat-nâme-hâ
(Books on Acts of Chivalry), which, were, apparently narrated by

8 Abu’l-Qâsem Hoseyn b. Mohammad Râgheb Esfahâni, Mohâzarât al-
odabâ’ va mohâvarât al-sho’arâ’ va’l-bolaghâ’, ed. Riyâz Abd-al-Hamid
Morâd (5 vols., Beirut, 2006), I, pp. 274–75.
9 Mohammad b. Hasan Jamâl Ostâji, al-Majâles va’l-mavâ’ez, ed. Farzâd
Moravveji (MA thesis, University of Tehran, 2011), p. 1.
10 Ostâji, al-Majâles va’l-mavâ’ez, p. 10
11 Ostâji, al-Majâles va’l-mavâ’ez, pp. 30–35.
13 Ostâji, al-Majâles va’l-mavâ’ez, pp. 52.
16 Ostâji, al-Majâles va’l-mavâ’ez, pp. 22 and 41–42.
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traders for their colleagues in private gatherings in shops in the

bazaars and in the privacy of their own homes.17 Some other tales
were about the prophet and his companions, or about ascetics and
holy-men and Sufis; yet another group dealt with kings and rulers.
Some of these stories were about the ancient Greek philosophers
and physicians such as Aristotle, Hippocrates, and Socrates, or
were about sages such as Loqmân whose life is recounted in Sura 31
of the Qur’an. Stories told about him are more or less comparable
to the fables of Aesop. There are also many stories about the pre-Is-
lamic Arab poet, Hâtem b. Abd-Allâh b. Sa’d, known as Hâtem
Tâ’i, whose boundless generosity is proverbial in the Islamic world.
He is believed to have died in the early years of the Prophet’s life.
Some of the stories that Ostâji describes as latife, anecdotes that are
humorous with a moral lesson attached to them, are, in fact, about
oqalâ’ al-majânin: This group of frenzied ascetics, who are specifi-
cally described as majdhub (ecstatic) in Sufi books, were in the eyes
the ordinary people regarded as madmen or majnun.18 The most
famous of these in Persian tales is the Shi’ite Bohlul, whose real
name was Abu Voheyb Bohlul b. Amr Seyrafi; he was apparently
from Kufa and lived during the 8th century. His death, in some
sources, is said to have occurred between 799 and 812.19
Some of the characters in Persian stories are famous for their na-
ivety. These tales, unlike the latife, do not convey any philosophi-
cal, moralistic, or mystical points; they are merely told in order to
ridicule and to create laughter and amusement while making the
occasional social criticism. These tales are called tanz (satire) or
hazl (facetiae/burlesque). Apparently the first of the storytellers of
such tales was Abu’l-Ghosn Dojeyn Ebn-Thâbet, known as Johâ or
Jowhi from Basra or Kufa. It is said that Abu-Moslem Khorâsâni
17 Sabâh Ibrahim Sa’id al-Sheykhli, al-Asnâf fi’l-asr al-abbâsi: nash’atohâ

va tatavvorohâ (Baghdad, 1976), pp. 135–36. (For further information see
Mehrân Afshâri and Mehdi Medâ’eni, eds., Chahârdah resâle dar bâb-e fo-
tovvat va asnâf (Tehran, 2002).
18 Mehrân Afshâri, Neshân-e ahl-e Khodâ (Tehran, 1987), pp. 52–54.
19 Ulrich Marzolph, Der weise Narr Bohlūl (Wiesbaden, 1983), tr., ed., and
expanded with introd. by Bâqer Qorbâni Zarrin as Bohlul-nâme (Tehran,
2009)—the most comprehensive book written about Bohlul.
458
(d. 755) visited Johâ, which means that he must have been alive in
the 8th century.20 Ebn-al-Nadim (d. 988 or 990), in his al-Fehrest
(catalogue of books in Arabic), cites Johâ’s book Navâder Johâ
(Johâ’s Rare Stories) which contains wondrous stories.21 Another
comic character, who is mentioned in the poetry of Manuchehri
of Dâmghân (d. 1040), is Bu-Bakr (Abu Bakr) Rabâbi,22 who was
a musician and minstrel. He played the rabâb (a rebec), hence his
surname.
In times past, the natives of Qazvin were often characterized in
literary texts as simpletons with many humorous stories devoted
to them. Even today the word dakhu, which means dehkhodâ or
kadkhodâ (the village’s chief) in the dialect of Qazvin, is employed
as a funny character in these stories. Some of these stories are at-
tributed to Talkhak (Talhak or Dalqak), the clown at the court of
Mahmud the Ghaznavid. The last, but not the least, of these char-
acters in the Persian hazl stories, is of course Mollâ Nasr-al-Din,
who is also loved by the people of Uzbekistan, Tajikistan, and Tur-
key, where his name is variously given as Khwâja Nasr-al-Din or
Nasr-al-Din Khwâja. The later narratives featuring Bohlul and Johâ
are, in fact, concerned with the Iranian Mollâ Nasr-al-Din or the
Khwâja Nasr-al-Din of the countries neighboring Iran.23
The majority of Persian stories which were told or written by
the preachers or modhakkerân contain realistic characters, prob-
ably based on specific individuals in society. Only very rarely do
these stories contain imaginary characters or animal fables.
20 Mojtabâ Minovi, Yâddâshthâ-ye Minovi, eds. Mehdi Qarib and Moham-

mad Ali Behbudi (2 vols., Tehran, 1996), I, p. 146.
21 Abu’l-Faraj Mohammad b. Eshâq al-Nadim (Ebn-al-Nadim), Ketâb al-feh-
rest, ed. Eyman Fo’âd Sayyed (4 vols., London, 2009), I, p. 344.
22 Manuchehri Dâmghâni, Divân, ed. Mohammad Dabirsiyâqi (Tehran, 1991),
p. 131.
23 Ulrich Marzolph, “Molla Nasr al-Din in Persia,” IrSt 28/3–4 (1995), pp. 157–74.
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2. Books of Multiple Stories with Religious

and Didactic Content
The oldest surviving book which contains stories told by preachers

from their menbars is entitled al-Settin al-jâme’ le-latâ’ef al-basâ-
tin (Sixty Stories about Pleasant Gardens), written by Ahmad b.
Mohammad b. Zeyd Tusi (perhaps late 11th century). He writes
that while travelling from Khorasan to western Iran, in every city
where he preached he was asked to make a compendium related to
the art of preaching (fann-e mow’eze). Finally, when he had ar-
rived in Azerbaijan and found there a group most eager to acquire
skills in this art, he responded to their request. Having given the
matter much thought, he chose the Qur’anic story of Yusof (Jo-
seph) as the foundation and starting point.24 In his commentary
on this Qur’anic story, he included sayings and anecdotes as well
as references to didactic and mystical beliefs under such rubrics
as mow’eze (sermon), nokte (pithy comment), eshârât (allusions),
latife (witty anecdote), nazire (analogue), and appropriate stories
to underline his preaching, following the same manner of presen-
tation that Ostâji had prescribed. The clarity of his prose and the
simple diction that he uses indicate that he wrote it to address the
general public, but his work has signs of archaism in features that
are reminiscent of early prose writing. The work is interspersed
with Arabic phrases, quotations from the Qur’an and the Hadith,
as well as numerous Persian verses.
Another book which is comparable to Tusi’s Tafsir-e qesse-ye
Yusof and was influenced by it is Qesse-ye Soleymân (Story of Sol-
omon), which was written by the mufti (Muslim judge) of Arrân,
Abu Ya’qub Yusof b. Ali b. Omar Tabrizi in the 12th century. He
24 Ahmad b. Mohammad Tusi, Tafsir-e Qesse-ye Yusof (al-Settin al-jâme’ le-

latâ’ef al-basâtin), ed. Mohammad Rowshan (1st ed. Tehran, 1967; revised
ed., Tehran, 2003), pp. 1–2. See also Mohammad-Rezâ Shafi’i-Kadkani,
“Safine-i az she’r-hâ-ye erfâni-e qarn-e chahârom va panjom,” in Moham-
mad Torâbi, ed., Jashn-nâme-ye Ostâd Dhabih-Allâh Safâ (Tehran, 1998),
pp. 340–60, where the poetical contents and the affiliations of the author
with the Karrâmiyya sect are discussed.
460
states that he spent his life in “educating and preaching.”25 Abu

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

These types of stories are, more or less, reminiscent of the Chahâr
Maqâle (Four Discourses) of the 12th century writer Nezâmi Aruzi.
The language of the book is simple and elegant and is devoid of
embellishments. In this book, Owfi also translates many stories
contained in the Arabic book al-Faraj ba’d al-shedde (Relief after
Adversity) of Qâzi Abu-Ali Mohassen Tanukhi (d. 994).27 In the
seventh part of the fourth chapter, Owfi states that he has trans-
lated al-Faraj ba’d al-shedde in its entirety. The names of the sto-
rytellers are written at the beginning of each story and references
are also given to the sources from which they have been taken. In
fact, there is no single story which originates with Owfi himself
and he refers to himself as the “collector of these stories” (jâme’-e
in hekâyât).28
Al-Faraj ba’d al-shedde is not only written in Arabic but its sto-
ries are told about Arab life and environment. In the same period,
the second half of the 13th century, al-Faraj ba’d al-shedde was
translated into Persian by Hoseyn b. As’ad Dehestâni. Surprisingly,
the translator does not mention the name of the author of his Ara
bic original but says that his translation is based on al-Faraj ba’d
al-shedde va’l-ziqat written by Abu’l-Hasan Ali b. Mohammad
Madâ’eni; he also claims to have inserted some stories of his own,29
and does not even mention the earlier Persian translation by Owfi.
In any case his translation is based on the al-Faraj ba’d al-shedde
of Tanukhi, with variations and with the addition of material from
Dehestâni’s own Arabic and Persian poetry, usually inserted at the
end of the stories in approval of their didactic theme.30 The transla-
tion of Dehestâni which is entitled Faraj ba’d az sheddat is in thir-
teen bâbs (sections or parts) and all the stories are about characters
27 Sadid-al-Din Mohammad Owfi, Javâme’ al-hekâyât va lavâme al-revâyât
(jozv-e avval az qesm-e dovvom, ed. Amir Bânu-Mosaffâ (Karimi) (Teh-
ran, 1980), pp. 11, 321. See also Muhammad Nizâmu’d-Din, Introduction to
Jawâmi’ul-‘hikâyat wa Lawâmi’u’r-riwâyât (London, 1929), p. 94.
28 Owfi, Javâme’ al-hekâyât (jozv-e avval az qesm chahârom), ed. Mazâher
Mosaffâ (Tehran, 1991), p. 9.
29 Hoseyn b. As’ad Dehestâni, Faraj ba’d az sheddat, ed. Esmâil Hâkemi (3
vols., Tehran, 1984), I, pp. 13–14.
30 Dehestâni, Faraj ba’d az sheddat, I, p. 14.
462
who, after suffering a great deal of hardship and misery, end up

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

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

bub al-qolub, Mahfel-ârâ, Ra’nâ va Zibâ mashhur be Shamse va Qahqahe
(Tehran, 1957), pp. 12–13.
464
trade guilds (asnâf-e pishevar) as well as the names of wrestling

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

pp. 442–44.
33 Barkhwordâr Farâhi, Dowre-ye kâmel-e ketâb-e Mahbub al-qolub,
pp. 400–402, 339.
34 Majd-al-Din Mohammad Hoseyni Majdi, Zinat al-majâles (Tehran, 1963),
pp. 9–10.
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Rarities), by Abd-al-Nabi Fakhr-al-Zamâni Qazvini (d. 1631). He

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

people of the menbar, some of the Persian stories are facetious and
expose the licentious side of Islamic and Iranian society, including
erotic tales describing illicit relations between men and women or
between men and men.
The 14th century poet and satirist Obeyd Zâkâni wrote many
such stories in an eloquently assured prose that is close to the
everyday language of his own time. Some scholars believe that
his hazliyât (facetiae) are a reflection of the society of his time,
and he thus satirizes what he considers to be immoral and ugly.35
These scholars seem keen to present Obeyd Zâkâni as a critic of
his own time, but in reality they have over-emphasized this ele-
ment, because his satires and facetiae, particularly those included
35 See for example, Parviz Nâtel-Khânlari, Haftâd sokhan (4 vols., Tehran,
1991–98), III, p. 110; Abd-al-Hoseyn Zarrinkub, Az gozashte-ye adabi-ye
Irân (Tehran, 2006), pp. 161–62.
466
in Resâle-ye delgoshâ (Heart-Cheering Treatise), are not the ex-

clusive product of Zâkâni’s time but existed in Arabic literature
of the previous centuries. Some of Zâkâni’s stories can be found,
either verbatim or with slight variations, in books such as al-Eqd
al-farid (The Unique Necklace), written by Ebn-Abd-Rabbeh
(d. 940),36 and Mohâzarât al-odabâ’ (Discourses of Literary Men),
the anthology of Arabic prose and verse by Râgheb Esfahâni (d.
1109).37 Therefore these stories do not simply reflect the society in
which Obeyd Zâkâni lived; and, furthermore, his readers and audi-
ence were most probably only limited to the educated scholars and
the ruling class. Zâkâni therefore has employed a genre of Arabic
stories merely to entertain and amuse; nevertheless, in some of his
stories, some aspects of social and moral conduct are satirized.
It is interesting to note that Aristotle (in his Poetics) believes that
the most significant characteristic of comedy is that it affirms ex-
actly the opposite of what is usually accepted by everybody; there-
fore, Zâkâni’s obscene and bawdy stories in which he explicitly
describes sexual acts and employs vulgar names for sexual organs
are in fact, a kind of inverted account of the polite language of the
moral and didactic stories, so they cannot be a reflection of the
society of his time.38 In any case, Obeyd Zâkâni is considered as a
pioneer in tanz (satire) and hazl (facetiae) and his innovative prose
helped to bring him to fame. There was little of this kind of prose
in Persian literature after him, except for the Qajar Period of the
18th and 19th centuries, when some scholars and writers employed
an obscene language and wrote obscene stories; but none of them
has been well received.
The difference between latife and hazl and tanz is that latife is
not intended primarily to be humorous and does not employ ob-
scene language. On the contrary, it is a short tale in refined lan-
guage which narrates a story containing a didactic, philosophical,
36 Cf. Ebn-Abd-Rabbeh, Ketâb al-eqd al-farid, ed. Ahmad Amin, Ebrâhim

al-Âbyâri and Abd-al-Salâm Hârun (7 vols., Cairo, 1968), VI, pp. 127–43.
37 Cf. Râgheb Esfahâni, Mohâzarâ al-odabâ’, III, pp. 473–546.
38 Paul Sprachman, “Obeyd Zâkâni va Aristophanes: cherâ nabâyad Akhlâq
al-ashrâf-râ serfan âyine-ye asr-e Obeyd dânest,” Irânshenâsi 15:4 (winter
2004), pp. 714–25.
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or mystical message. The preachers knew many stories by heart

which they narrated at their preaching sessions in order to break
the monotony of preaching. Fakhr-al-Din Ali Safi (d. 1532), one of
the preachers of the late 15th and early 16th centuries, who learned
his trade from his father Hoseyn Vâ’ez Kâshefi, author of Rowzat
al-shohadâʾ (Garden of Martyrs) and Fotovvat-nâme-ye soltâni
(Royal Book of Chivalry), includes a collection of latâ’ef in his book,
Latâ’ef al-tavâ’ef (Witty Tales by Different Professional Groups).39
It is written in simple and elegant prose, in fourteen chapters. This
is considered as the first story collection in the latife genre in Per-
sian literature, although such books already existed in Arabic, such
as Ebn-al-Jowzi’s work entitled Akhbâr al-zerâf va’l-motamâjenin
(Stories of the Rakes and Men of Wits).40 Mowlânâ Hoseyn Vâ’ez
Kâshefi also collected some stories based on the boundless gener-
osity of the Arab Hâtem Tâʾi in his Resâle-ye Hâtamiyye (Stories
about Hâtem Tâʾi), in which some of the stories about Hâtem Tâʾi
are confused with the stories associated with Hâtem Asamm, a
mystic and Sufi of the 9th century (d. 852)41
Another such book is Kadu matbakh-e qalandari (The Gourd
Vessel of the Qalandari Kitchen), which was written by a Sufi
preacher of the Safavid period called Adham Qoreyshi Vâʿez
Khalkhâli (d. 1642).42 Like others, this collection was used in private
gatherings, in this case those of the Sufis. Except for the short intro-
duction, which is somewhat artificial in language, the prose of the
stories is very simple. They are not organized around any specific
theme, which gives the impression of a somewhat miscellaneous
work. The author, nevertheless, encourages the reader to refine the
soul and to abandon worldly goods. The latife-hâ, of course, also
contain moral and mystical messages which are interspersed with
39 Fakhr-al-Din Ali Safi, Latâ’ef al-tavâ’ef, ed. Ahmad Golchin-Ma’âni (Teh-
ran, 1958).
40 Ed. with introd. by Mohammad Bahr-al-Olum (Najaf, 1967).
41 Resâle-ye Hâtemi has been published twice: by Charles Schefer (Paris, 1883)
and by Mohammad-Reza Jalâli Nâ’ini (Tehran, 1921); it has also been trans-
lated into English in Ridgeon Lloyd, Jawanmardi: A Sufi Code of Honour
(Edinburgh, 2011), pp. 163–214.
42 Adham Khalkhâli, Kadu matbakh-e qalandari, ed. Ahmad Mojâhed (Teh-
ran, 2001), p. 4.
468
appropriate Persian verses. The title of the book suits its contents
well. In the villages of Iran, the locals used to empty the contents of
a kind of pumpkin or marrow (kadu) and use the skin as a vessel to
put food or other things in from the kitchen, but for the qalandars,
it was a drinking cup for water, comparable to that of the kashkul
that the dervishes carried around all the time. Therefore, in Persian
literature, the word kadu in the title of a book, like the words kash-
kul (cup suspended by a chain and carried by a dervish) and chante
(dervish’s satchel), denotes texts which do not have any specific or-
der in their contents and consist of a variety of stories and subjects.
During the Qajar period, stories which correspond to the liter-
ary definition of “political satire” entered into Persian literature.
The most valued of these, which satirize the socio-political events
of the time, were those by Ali-Akbar Dehkhodâ (d. 1955) entitled
Charand-parand, meaning “worthless words” (which today is of-
ten mistakenly referred to as Charand o parand). They were pub-
lished in the newspaper Sur-e Esrâfil, which was edited by Mirzâ
Jahângir Shirâzi from 30 May 1907 to 20 June 1908. There is no
coarse or obscene language in these stories, but the socio-political
situation of the time is heavily satirized, and governing officials are
strongly criticized.
An important contribution Dehkhodâ made to Persian litera-
ture was to simplify and modernize the heavily Arabicized and
artificial literary language of the Qajars and bring it closer to ev-
eryday speech, so that it could be understood by the general public.43
Dehkhodâ, in writing Charand-parand, was influenced by Jalil
Mohammad Qolizâde’s humorous stories written in Turkish and
published in the Caucasian newspaper Molla Nasreddin which was
contemporaneous with Sur-e Esrâfil.44 It is important to note that
Dehkhodâ’s innovative work, despite his imitations of the Turkish
stories, is unique in Persian literature.
43 Gholâm-Hoseyn Yusofi, Didâri bâ ahl-e Qalam (2 vols., Mashhad, 1978–

79), II, pp. 162–65.
44 Yahyâ Âryanpur, Az Sabâ tâ Nimâ: târikh-e 150 sâl adab-e Fârsi (2 vols,
Tehran, 1972), II, pp. 86–92.
469
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4. Proverbial Stories
Proverbial stories are of a kind which explain and illustrate existing

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

mad-Ali Ejtehâdiyân (MA thesis, Tehran, 2009), pp. 16–20.
46 Mohammad Ali Hablerudi, Kolliyyât-e Jâme’ al-tamthil (Tehran, 1996),
pp. 33–34, 46–50.
470
method is not carried through uniformly in the book, and some

stories are rather didactic and recommend a religious way of life. It
seems that Hablerudi himself might have been a preacher, since the
language of the book is akin to that of preaching and is interspersed
with Qura’nic verses and Hadiths along with the stories. The prose
of Jâmeʿ al-tamthil is simple and flows smoothly. It is also mixed
with verses from famous Persian poets such as Ferdowsi, Nezâmi,
Rumi, Sa’di, and Hâfez and also includes many Persian and Arabic
proverbs.
Hablerudi occasionally cites the origin of his stories, such as Bahr
al-sa’âdat (Sea of Happiness) by Tâj-al-Din Mohammad Kâzaruni,
known as Hâji Harâs (d. 1497). Some of his stories are taken from
the book of Beluhar va Budhâsaf and have Indian origins.47 Jâme’
al-tamthil was a popular work, and it was widely read during the
18th century. During the entire Qajar period, it retained its popu-
larity and was republished many times. The interest in folklore in
recent years in Iran has meant that proverbs (amthâl) have become
a focus of interest for some scholars. Amir-Qoli Amini (d. 1978)
was the first to edit and write down the proverbial stories with the
proverbs attached to each story. These are arranged alphabetically
in two volumes entitled Dâstânhâ-ye amthâl (Tehran, 1945). An-
other book on the same subject is Rishe-hâ-ye târikhi-ye amsâl va
hekam (Historical Roots of Proverbs and Proverbial Sayings), in
two volumes edited by Mehdi Partovi-Âmoli (Tehran, 1990). The
most important contemporary collection is Tamthil va mathal (Al-
legories and Proverbs) in two volumes.48 The most important char-
acteristic of these books is that they are based on stories that the
general public sent to the radio program Markaz-e farhang-e Irân
(Center for Popular Culture). The name of the sender of each story
as well as the place it came from are acknowledged in the collection.
47 Ulrich Marzolph, “Illustrated Exemplary Tales: A Nineteenth Century Edi-

tion of the Classical Persian Proverb Collection: Jāme‘ al-tamthil,” Prover-
bium 16 (1999), p. 171. See also Fath-Allâh Mojtabâ’i “Beluhar va Budhâsaf”
in Shahriyâr Shâhin-Dezhi, ed., Bangâle dar qand-e Parsi: goftârhâ-’i dar
ravâbet-e farhangi-ye Iran va Hend (Tehran, 2013), pp. 395–408.
48 Vol. I, ed. Enjavi Shirâzi (Tehran, 1973); vol. II, ed. Seyyed Ahmad Vakili-
yân (Tehran, 1999).
471
PERSIAN PROSE
5. One Thousand and One Nights and Similar Books
The Arabic book Alf leyle va leyle was first translated into Persian
under the title of Hezâr o yek shab (One Thousand and One Nights)
in 1845 in Tabriz and printed lithographically (châp-e sangi). Later,
it was published several times in the same way in two volumes. The
translation was the work of Abd-al-Latif Tasuji Tabrizi, known as
Mollâ-bâshi, tutor to the young Nâser-al-Din Shah Qajar when
he lived as crown prince in Tabriz. The translation was made at
the request of the literature-loving prince Bahman Mirzâ (d. 1884),
an uncle to Nâser-al-Din Shah (r. 1848–96). It was started around
1843 in Tabriz and continued when Nâser-al-Din Shah came to the
throne in Tehran and completed soon afterwards. Mirzâ Moham-
mad Ali Sorush (d. 1869) inserted some Persian verses from older
poets and some of his own composition in the final translation.49
Tasuji’s style in his translation is more or less that of traditional
story-tellers (qesse-hâ-ye naqqâli).
Hezâr o yek shab is an ancient book. Ebn-al-Nadim in his Feh-
rest names the book as Hezâr afsân (One Thousand Tales), and says
that it was written for Homâni (Homâ), the daughter of Bahman.
He also states that the original of the book was in Persian and was
called Alf khorâfe (One Thousand Ridiculous Stories) in Arabic;
but it is not clear whether parts of it were brought to Iran from
India, like Kalile va Demne. Ebn-al-Nadim says that he read the
book many times and that its stories are weak and insipid, and al-
though it is called Hezâr shab, there are actually less than two hun-
dred stories, because some of them take several nights to tell.50 It
was translated into Arabic after Islam arrived in Iran, and, since
the original Persian version is lost, it has come to be known by its
Arabic title of Alf leyle va leyle. It is not known when and by whom
this book was translated into Arabic. It is obvious that during the
centuries the contents of the book have been changed and added to,
because the extant manuscripts are all varied and contain different
49 Mohammad Ja’far Mahjub, Adabiyyât-e ammiyâne-ye Irân, ed. Hasan

Zu’l-Faqâri (2 vols. in 1, Tehran, 2003), I, pp. 391–96.
50 Ebn-al-Nadim, Fehrest, II, p. 322.
472
stories, and what we have is certainly not identical with what Ebn-
al-Nadim knew of the book. Some of the stories in One Thousand
and One Nights are seemingly realistic, but many of them are de-
rived from popular tales and include magic and sorcery, and have
characters such as jinns and ghuls (ghouls) Some heroes still behave
like the so called ayyârân (“scoundrels”) in what can be regarded
as short popular stories. They do not have the same characteristics
as the heroes in Persian literature. In any case, the stories are imag-
inative and that is why One Thousand and One Nights properly
belongs to the folkloric genre and not to the realistic genre of the
preaching tales.
One Thousand and One Nights is written in the manner of sto-
ries within stories, a style characteristic of ancient Indian narrative.
The main story is about a king (Shahriyâr) who marries women
and kills them the next day. When he marries Shahrazâd, the wise
daughter of his vizier, she tells the king a story each night but does
not finish it till the next night. This continues for one thousand
and one nights, which makes the king, at last, spare her life. Each
story in One Thousand and One Nights contains several subsidiary
stories. Those about “wiles of women” and animal fables would
have Indian origins. Some stories are Persian while others come
from the popular Arabic cultures of Iraq and Egypt in the Islamic
era.51 A large number of stories are historically situated in the era
of the Abbasid Caliphate in Baghdad, particularly during the reign
of Hârun al-Rashid (r. 786–809), depicting life at court and in pub-
lic.52 On the whole, the spirit of the Arab world dominates this
book, and some western scholars consider One Thousand and One
Nights as an Arabic literary text and not a Persian one.
Before the translation of One Thousand and One Nights into
Persian during the Qajar period, there existed a genre of Jâme’
51 Hasan el-Shanny, “The Oral Connections of The Arabian Nights,” in Ul-

rich Marzolph and Richard van Leeuwen, eds., with the collaboration of
Hassan Wassouf, The Arabian Nights Encyclopedia (2 vols., Santa Barbara,
Calif., 2004), I, pp. 11–12.
52 Aboubakr Chairabi, “Situation, Motivation and Action in The Arabian
Nights,” in The Arabian Nights Encyclopedia, I, pp. 7–8. For further informa-
tion see, Robert Irwin, The Arabian Nights: A Companion, (London, 1994).
473
PERSIAN PROSE
al-hekâyât from the Safavid period. This genre of books in Iran

and India of this time might seem no more than imitations of Ow-
fi’s Javâme’ al-hekâyât of the 13th century, but in fact the stories
were short popular and folk types similar to those of One Thou-
sand and One Nights.
Today there are many Persian manuscripts of Jâme’ al-hekâyât
scattered in different libraries all over the world. They are all dif-
ferent from one another, and no two manuscripts match exactly.53
Even the short tales are not exactly the same. Two of these manu-
scripts are kept at the libraries of the Academy of Sciences in St. Pe-
tersburg (No. A 103) and the Âstân-e Qods-e Razavi in Mashhad
(No. 191). This latter contains forty-six stories, some of which are
well known folk tales, such as the tales of Salim-e javâheri (Salim
the Jeweler), Dalle-ye Mokhtâr (Story of Dalle-ye Mokhtâr) which
is more commonly known as Dalile-ye mohtâle, Simorgh and So-
leymân (The Phoenix and Solomon), and the story of Hezâr-gisu
va Âzâdbakht (lit. One Thousand Locks and Good Fortune, the
names of the main characters). Another book which is written to-
tally in imitation of One Thousand and One Nights is Alf al-nahâr
or Hezâr ruz. It was originally written in French under the title of
Les mille et un jours by François Pétis de la Croix (1653–1713). This
was translated into Persian by the orders of Ali-Asghar Khân Atâ-
bak, the minister of Mozaffar-al-Din Shah (r. 1896–1910), by Mo-
hammad Hasan Kamâl-al-Dowle and Mohammad Karim Khân
Qâjâr.54 Pétis de la Croix claims that in his travels to Iran he bor-
rowed the Persian manuscript of the book from a dervish in Isfa-
han by the name of Mokhles Esfahâni and translated it into French.
We have no certain way of knowing whether this claim is true or
whether it is an invention by the French author.55 There does not
exist in Persian such a book by such an author. The main subject
of Hezâr ruz is based on the story of Farrokhnâz, the daughter of
53 Ahmad Monzavi, Fehrest-e moshtarak-e noskhe-hâ-ye khatti-ye Pâkestân

(13 vols., Islamabad, 1983–92), VI, p. 1082.
54 Alf al-nahâr (Hezâr ruz), tr. Mohammad Hasan Kamâl-al-Dowle and Mo-
hammad Karim Khân Qâjâr (Tehran, 1940), pp. 2–3.
55 Mohammad Ja’far Mahjub, Adabiyyât-e âmmiyâne-ye Irân, I, p. 1, II,
pp. 430–31, 435.
474
Toghrol Shâh, the king of Kashmir. As the result of a dream she

becomes antagonistic towards men and tells her father that she will
never marry. Toghrol Shah asks her nurse, Jor’e-Bakhsh, to change
his daughter’s mind. For one thousand days, the nurse tells Far-
rokhnâz stories, by the end of which she is cured of her fear of men
and marries the Iranian prince, Farrokhshâd. The story is clearly
analogous to One Thousand and One Nights.
6. Children’s Stories and Oral Fables
Until a century ago, the majority of Iranians, older men and

women in particular, knew popular tales by heart.56 These were
tales that had been passed on orally from generation to genera-
tion and which have no specific author. These often very highly
imaginative tales are usually told to young children of 3–6 years.
Animals feature prominently in these stories such as Khâle suske
(Auntie Beetle), Boz-e zangule-pâ (The Goat with a Bell on its
Ankle) and Kadu qelqele-zan (Rolling Pumpkin). In these stories
metrical and rhyming phrases and sentences are employed in the
form of tarji’ (refrain) and are repeated throughout.57 Stories for
older children have heroes as their main characters and also myth-
ical creatures such as dragons, Simorgh (Phoenix), jinns, fairies
(pari), demons (div) and ghouls. Magic and sorcery are important
elements in these stories. An example is Qesse-ye Hasan Kachal
(Story of Bald Hassan) which was re-written as a film script and
produced as a film (1969) by Ali Hâtami (d. 1996). In 1971, the story
of Qesse-ye Mâh pishâni” (Story of Moon-Face) was turned into a
musical script by Parviz Khatibi and produced as a musical film
by Esmâ’il Kushân (d. 1984). In this kind of story, the emphasis
56 For more information on the oral tradition, see Ph. G. Kreyenbroek and U.
Marzolph, eds., Oral Literature of Iranian Languages: Kurdish, Pashto, Ba-
lochi, Ossetic, Persian and Tajik, HPL XVIII Companion Volume II (Lon-
don, 2010).
57 Abd-al-Hoseyn Zarrinkub, “Afsâne-hâ-ye âmmiyâne,” in Enâyat-Allâh
Majidi, ed., Yâdâshthâ va andishe-hâ (Tehran, 1976), pp. 243–44.
475
PERSIAN PROSE
is, directly or indirectly, on fate and destiny.58 Some children’s sto-

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

59 Ulrich Marzolph, Tabaqe-bandi-ye qesse-hâ-ye Irâni, tr. Kaykâvus
Jahândâri (Tehran, 1997), pp. 42–48.
60 Iraj Afshâr, “Hedâyat va nezâm-e gerdâveri-ye farhang-e mardom-e Irân,”
Faslnâme-ye farhang-e mardom 2/1 (2003), pp. 11–12, 24–25.
476
Sinâ (Tales of Avicenna, Tehran, 1954), and Afsâne-hâ-ye kohan

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

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Khalkhâli, Aḥmad. Kadu maṭbakh-e qalandari. Ed. Aḥmad Mojâhed.
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Nâtel-Khânlari, Parviz. Haftâd sokhan. 3 vols. Tehran, 1990.
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Dâmghâni. Ed. Moḥammad Dabirsiyâqi. Tehran, 1991.
Marzolph, Ulrich. Der weise Narr Buhlūl. Wiesbaden, 1983. Tr., ed., and
expanded with introd. by Bâqer Qorbâni Zarrin as Bohlul-nâme. Teh-
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wa Lawámiʿu’r-Riwáyát. London, 1929.
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Dhabih-Allâh Ṣafâ, Tehran, 1998, pp. 340–60.
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va taṭavvorohâ. Baghdad, 1976.
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480
CHAPTER 10
THE DEVELOPMENT OF MODERN

PERSIAN PROSE: FROM THE
NINETEENTH TO THE EARLY
TWENTIETH CENTURY
Iraj Parsinejad
1. Historical Background
In a study of the evolution of Persian prose over a long period, due

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

accountants and financial administrators referred to as mostowfis.
Deeply rooted in traditional Persian culture, they enjoyed an ade-
quate stipend and were able to devote part of their day to literary
activities. Moreover, some of them were able to travel on missions
abroad or accompanied the shah himself on his visits to European
countries, enabling them to become familiar with modern Euro-
pean institutions. Among the more eminent and forward-looking
figures were Hasan-Ali Khan Amir-Nezâm Garrusi (1820–1900),
Mirzâ Hoseyn Khan Sepahsâlâr Moshir-al-Dowle (1828–81),
Mirzâ Taqi Khan Amir-Kabir (1807–52), and Mirzâ Malkom Khan
Nâzem-al-Dowle (1833–1908).
Diplomatic contacts between Iran and European countries on
a formal and regular basis dated back to the era of the Safavid dy-
nasty in the 16th and 17th centuries. The relationship became broader
and more complex as a result of the increasing rivalry between the
Russian and the British empires. The latter was largely influenced in
the region by the colonial policies of the East India Company. The
French, under Napoleon Bonaparte, also harbored wider territorial
ambitions and found it useful to establish friendly contacts with the
Iranian court. The country gradually became an arena for intense
political rivalry between European powers. After the Iranian defeat
in the second Russo-Persian war (1826–28), the crown prince Abbâs
Mirzâ (1789–1833), conscious of the country’s backwardness in mil-
itary matters, dispatched students to Europe in an effort to familiar-
ize them with modern developments in military sciences and tech-
nology. The idea of modernism in Iran began imperceptively through
a process of discarding the nebulous notion of a “celestial land” in
favor of a more down-to-earth focus on pragmatism in everyday life.
Among many factors that influenced the Iranian enlightenment,
the following can be briefly enumerated:
1. Cultural contacts between Tehran, Istanbul, Cairo, and the
Caucasus in general, i. e., regions where a number of Iranian
political activists had congregated;
2. The awareness of radical reform taking place in other countries
in the Near and Far East, most notably in the Ottoman empire
482
THE DEVELOPMENT OF MODERN PERSIAN PROSE
during the Tanzimat (1839–76) and in Japan during the Meiji

era (1868–1912);
3. The publication of progressive newspapers in Persian, Turk-
ish, and Arabic disseminating new ideas of social and political
reform;
4. The introduction of printing technology to Iran, leading to the
proliferation of newspapers and printed books;
5. The founding in 1851 of a polytechnic college, Dâr al-Fonun,
which familiarized its students with new sciences and new
fields of scholarship and also instigated the translation of vari-
ous works from European languages into Persian;
6. The publication of books and treatises that introduced scien-
tific and analytical knowledge to Iran.
Since many intellectuals increasingly found the existing home-
grown political and philosophical discourse moribund and mired
in outworn religious or traditional modes of thinking, they turned
eagerly to new ideas derived from European thinkers. For example,
René Descartes’s famous tract, Discours de la Méthode (1637), was
translated into Persian and published in 1862. Similarly, ideas orig-
inating from the works of western philosophers such as Auguste
Comte, David Hume, John Locke, John Stuart Mill, Jean-Jacques
Rousseau, and Pierre-Joseph Proudhon were quoted and reflected
in the works of Iranian intellectuals in this period. In the second
half of the 19th century, Comte de Gobineau (1816–82) was sur-
prised to meet learned members of the Iranian Jewish community
who were able to discuss the works of Kant and Spinoza with him.1
It was also in such an era and milieu that Mirzâ Fath-Ali
Âkhundzâde (1812–78) wrote his Maktubât-e Kamâl-al–Dowle
(The Correspondence of Kamâl-al–Dowle), in which he expounded
his materialist thinking. Influenced by Âkhundzâde’s work, Abd-
al-Hosayn Mirzâ Âqâ Khan Kermâni (1854–96) wrote treatises in-
cluding Se maktub (Three Letters) and Sad khetâbe (A Hundred
Lectures). Under the influence of a contemporary philosopher,
the French positivist Auguste Comte (1798–1857), Mirzâ Malkom
1 Comte de Gobineau, Les religions et les philosophies dans l’Asie central (3rd
ed., Paris, 1900), p. 25.
483
PERSIAN PROSE
Khan, who will be discussed extensively below, viewed the polit-

ical situation from the standpoint of scientific reasoning, while in
social criticism he relied on the influence of Voltaire.2 Each of these
works reflected the new learning in the areas of science, politics,
and sociology that informed the thinking of Iranian reformists and
prompted them to reformulate their newly acquired ideas in a lan-
guage amenable to their educated audience in Iran.
At the same time, an increasing number of citizens had achieved
sufficient competence in literacy to become avid and impatient
readers, eager to grasp the general ideas propounded in any text
quickly and easily. Ornate rhyming prose no longer appealed to
them. The system of patronage was also changing. Most writers
no longer enjoyed the direct patronage of princes and other digni-
taries and had to find other ways to earn their living. They either
became civil servants or worked in the private sector. Some went
into journalism.
The combination of all these factors put an end to the previ-
ously flourishing market for florid styles of writing, replete with
elaborate figures of speech and contorted word play. These were
dismissed as outmoded relics of the past. The emphasis was now on
conciseness and lucidity as Persian prose began to embrace recent
debates on political and social matters and was used for the creative
writing of novels, stories, plays, satire, and literary criticism. As
the literature of the past offered little precedence or prototypes for
these new and diverse literary ventures, writers were able to adopt
a more radical approach and experiment with innovative forms
more daringly to appeal to the new and expanding reading public.3
As already mentioned, classical Persian prose was often over-bur-
dened with excessive rhetorical flourishes, obscuring any signifi-
cant information or novel ideas embedded in them. Examples of
this can be found, for instance, in historical works of the Mongol
and post-Mongol periods, such as Târikh-e Vassâf, Dorre-ye nâ-
dere, and Târikh-e mo’ jam. Writers of such works were usually
2 Iraj Parsinejad, A History of Literary Criticism in Iran (1866–1951) (Mary-
land, 2003), pp. 26–27.
3 Parviz Nâtel Khânlari, “Nathr dar dowre-ye akhir,” in Nakhostin kongre-ye
nevisandegân-e Irân (Tehran, 1947), p. 131.
484
secretaries or scribes at various princely courts and considered it a

proof of artistry and erudition to impress their patrons with their
far-fetched metaphors and lengthy digressions.
Mirzâ Abu’l-Qâsem Qâ’em-Maqâm Farâhâni (1779–1835),
grand vizier to Mohammad Shah, was a pioneer in the transfor-
mation and rejuvenation of the bureaucratic prose of his time, al-
though his own prose at times contains long stretches in the em-
broidered style that characterized the writing of other political
figures of the early Qajar period. Nevertheless, it could be said that
he was mainly responsible for creating a bridge between the earlier
styles of Persian prose and modern political discourse.4 Following
Qâ’em-Maqâm’s model, Mirzâ Taqi Khan Amir-Kabir also opted
for a simple, lucid prose in his writings.
However, it is Mirzâ Malkom Khan Nâzem-al-Dowle who can
be identified as the forerunner of the use of simple, meaningful Per-
sian prose. The writers hitherto referred to were all, to some extent,
under the influence of their educational upbringing and followed
in the footsteps of those who had produced antiquated and highly
ornate Persian prose. Malkom Khan’s prose was radically different.
He had left Iran for France at the age of ten and stayed in Europe
long enough to become familiar with European languages and cul-
ture at close quarters. Upon his return to Iran, he was employed by
the Iranian Foreign Ministry, and also worked as a translator and
interpreter for the European teachers of Dâr al-Fonun, the recently
founded polytechnic mentioned before. Another duty of his was to
translate correspondence at the prime minister’s office. As he had
been away from the Iranian educational milieu since childhood,
his mind was not conditioned by the traditional patterns and set
clichés of Persian literature;5 and in his years abroad he had ac-
quired the habit of writing lucidly and to the point.
Malkom’s prose approached the simplicity of spoken language
not only in his newspaper, Qânun (Law), but also in his various
essays and pamphlets. He successfully used Persian to express new
4 Javâd Tabâtabâ’i, Maktab-e Tabriz va mabâni-ye tajaddod-khwâhi (2 vols.

in 1, Tehran, 2006), p. 177.
5 See Parsinejad, A History of Literary Criticism in Iran, p. 100.
485
PERSIAN PROSE
concepts and introduce innovative ideas from Europe in the fields

of law, politics, and social science. This was of substantial benefit
to writers who succeeded him. It was for these qualities that he
was known as the forerunner of a new school or style, to which
Mohammad-Taqi Bahâr (1886–1951) referred as “The Malkom
School.”6
2. Iranian Intellectuals and Persian Prose
Mirzâ Fath-Ali Âkhundzâde’s Qeritikâ (Critique), composed in

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

(rev. ed., repr., 3 vols., Tehran, 1970), III, p. 374.
7 Mirzâ Fath-Ali Âkhundzâde, Resâle-ye irâd, MS Ketâbkhâne-ye Melli-ye
Irân, Tehran, no. 29, in idem, Äsärläri, ed. H. Mämmädzadä and H. Arasly
(3 vols., Baku, 1958–62), II, p. 384.
8 Âkhundzâde, Äsärläri, II, p. 380.
486
Arabs. It has been used in Iran for eight-hundred years, but it is

sheer folly.”9
Mirzâ Âqâ Khan Kermâni, the notable polemicist, was another
literary figure who viewed the Persian language and literature of
his day with a critical eye. He writes:
Today, European literature has advanced so much that a comparison
between their work and the exquisite works of our literary figures
would be like comparing telegraphic communication with a bush
telegraph, an electric light with a rush light, electric railways with a
Bactrian camel, a steamship with a coracle, an Artesian well with an
ox-drawn water wheel, or a silk factory and a cotton-beater.10
And this is what he has to say about one of the indicators of the
backwardness of Persian language and literature:
When studying our best books, any Western literary figure would
find several errors in the usage of words and phrases and in the con-
veying of meanings. Not even the greatest figures of our literature
have paid any attention to a single one of those errors.11
In the same treatise he also rails against the obfuscation that results
from employing a needlessly complicated diction:
This reduces clarity which must be a natural characteristic of such
writings and, thereby, renders them useless. No one has so far
thought of abandoning this decrepit structure and erecting a new
one in its place.12
However, it should be pointed out that in his implicit claim to
originality, Mirzâ Âqâ Khan had overstated his case. Thirty-eight
years before he had thought of dismantling the old structure and
building a new one, Fath-Ali Âkhundzâde had this to say on the
same topic:
9 Âkhundzâde, Äsärläri, II, pp. 383–84.

10 Mirzâ Âqâ Khan Kermâni, Reyhân-e bustân-afruz, unfinished autograph
MS, p. 6, now in the Mojtabâ Minovi Library (written in 1895).
11 Âqâ Khan Kermâni, Reyhân-e bustân-afruz, p. 6. See also Fereydun
Âdamiyyat, Andishe-hâ-ye Mirzâ Âqâ Khân-e Kermâni (Tehran, 1978),
p. 209.
12 Kermâni, Reyhân-e bustân-afruz, p. 9.
487
PERSIAN PROSE
Do not repeat the same point by way of synonyms and the usage
of different words and phrases. In prose, do not restrict yourself by
insisting on the use of rhymes. This should not be regarded as a pre-
requisite of eloquence. An eloquent discourse is one that is succinct
and clear. Do not make your writing too different from the spoken
language, […] express topics in a way that would approach the spo-
ken speech.13
On the same topic, Zeyn-al-Âbedin Marâghe’i (1839–1910) ex-
pressed the opinion that both the educated and the less educated
common people should be provided with clear and simple diction
in prose and poetry and that writers should instigate and encour-
age plain writing.14 Similarly, Mirzâ Âqâ Khan Kermâni criticized
writers of his time, saying that even after the passage of many cen-
turies, they still imitate the style of Kalile va Demne or Sa’di’s
Golestân.
Âkhundzâde was of the same opinion: “We are now well beyond
the era of Golestân and Zinat al-majâles. Such writings are of no
use to the people today.”15 This is another example of how such
critics advise the writers of their time:
They should gather simple, effective, and fluent colloquial words
and phrases of the Persian language in the expression of ethics, zeal,
and love for humanity. They should propagate these words among
the masses of Iran and thereby […] revive the dead blood and the
dejected lives of an ancient nation.16
Mirzâ Malkom Khan offers a dialogue on the same theme. He visu-
alizes a gathering of literary figures who like to indulge in flowery
language. Through the words of an imaginary person present at
13 Mirzâ Fath-Ali Âkhundzâde, Maqâle-ye alefbâ-ye jadid (1858) in idem,

Alefbâye jadid va Maktubât, ed. Hamid Mohammadzâde and H. Ârâsli
(Baku, 1963), pp. 10–11.
14 Yahyâ Âryanpur, Az Sabâ tâ Nimâ (2 vols., Tehran, 1971), I, p. 357.
15 Letter to Mirzâ Âqâ Tabrizi, 1871, in Âkhundzâde, Äsärläri, II, p. 372.
16 Mirzâ Âqâ Khan Kermâni, Se Maktub = MS Cambridge University Library,
E. G. Browne collection, L. 5 (9), fol. 151 (three fictitious letters by Kamâl-
al-Dowle to Jalâl-al-Dowle in imitation of Âkhundzâde’s Maktubât; on the
MS, see R. A. Nicholson, A Descriptive Catalogue of the Oriental MSS. Be-
longing to the Late E. G. Browne, Cambridge, 1932, pp. 147–50).
488
the meeting, he addresses a writer who is wallowing in such a vapid

pastime:
You fool! You driveller! What do you understand of all this rubbish?
Why go to all these lengths in wasting your own time? How much
longer are you going to coagulate human thought with meaningless
words? How much trouble are people going to take to understand
just what kind of nonsense you have been anxious to spew?17
In another context, Malkom Khan is even more vehement, refer-
ring to writers indulging in excessive artifice as clearly demented:
A number of people thought that language had been invented not
so much to express meaning as to affect rhymed prose and to waste
time. These latter-day madmen, who are publicly known as drivel-
lers, in following their beliefs have never pursued meaning either in
conversation or in their writings. If a sage expresses learned matters
in a simple and clear way, they would say he has not much under-
standing since any illiterate person can easily understand his words.
As they thought rhymed prose was the ultimate in technique, and
had no other object in their writings but effecting rhymes, most of
the time they concocted several absurd lines for the sake of bringing
off a single rhyme.18
Abd-al-Rahim Tâlebof (1834–1911) is also among the writers and
thinkers who are regarded as forerunners and advocates of simple
writing in Persian and for expressing scientific arguments in a lucid,
comprehensible manner. His knowledge of Russian language and
literature and his experience as a translator of Russian texts into
Persian encouraged him to adopt a simple diction, although his
work is at times marred by an excessive use of Turkish words and
foreign terminology derived from Russian and Turkish. It should
be borne in mind that he had spent most of his life in Russia and
perhaps thought in Turkish while he wrote in Persian.
17 Mirzâ Malkom Khan, Sayyâhi guyad (Ferqe-ye kajbinân), MS in the hand

writing of Abbâs-Qoli Khan Âdamiyyat, Fereydun Âdamiyyat’s private
library, fols. 5–6; also in Mirza Malkom Khan (Nâzem-al-Dowle), Rasâ’el,
ed. Hâshem Rabi’zâde (Tehran, 1907), pp. 187–212.
18 Malkom Khan, Sayyâhi guyad, fol. 1.
489
PERSIAN PROSE
This survey of the views of Iranian intellectuals in the 19th century

and, in particular, of what they have written on Persian prose with
increasing vehemence illustrates their passionate advocacy for the
kind of clear and concise writing that could be understood by public
at large and directly affect its modes of thought and conduct. They
regarded modern literature in its widest sense as a harbinger of mo-
dernity and its beneficial impact when conveyed with clarity as a vital
and far-reaching factor in the overall advancement of the country.
3. Pure Persian
The topic of “Pure Persian” cannot be overlooked in any study of

the usage and style of the language.19 As early as the latter part
of 11th century, Shahmardân b. Abi’l-Kheyr in his introduction to
Rowzat al-monajjemin (Astronomers’ Garden) questioned the use
of abstruse Persian terminology as a substitute for Arabic technical
terms:
And the strangest thing of all is that they rationalize writing a book
in Persian by claiming that it has now become accessible to those
who do not know Arabic. But they write in such a pure Persian form
that it is even more difficult to understand than Arabic. They would
make this understanding easier if they used words in current usage.20
The drive to use pure Persian was a reaction against the practice of
using Arabic, Mongolian, and Turkish words, even when Persian
equivalents were available, as a means of parading one’s erudition.
The practice went back at least to the 14th century, with works such
as Târikh-e Vassâf and Dorre-ye nâdere exemplifying it. Against
this tendency during the Qajar era stood the likes of Yaghmâ Jan-
daqi (1782–1859) and Jalâl-al-Din Mirzâ (1827–72), who strove to
purge the language from its foreign elements.21
19 Parsinejad, A History of Literary Criticism in Iran, pp. 128–33.

20 Shahmardân b. Abi’l-Kheyr, Rowżat al-monajjemin, facs. ed. with introd.
by Jalil Akhavân Zanjâni (Tehran, 1989), p. 2.
21 Ali Akbar Dehkhodâ, Loghat-nâme (50 vols., Tehran, 1947–73), introd.
490
The increasing desire of Iranian intellectuals, particularly those

of the Qajar era, to write in pure Persian, was also influenced by
nationalist sentiments which had originated in Europe. The im-
pact of the French Revolution and the concurrent notions of na-
tional sovereignty and self-determination began to gain currency.
A new terminology was needed to define these emerging concepts
of nationhood and national identity, or else existing terms had to
be endowed with new nuances. Tâlebof, among others, began to
use mellat (religious community) in the sense of nation and vatan
(birthplace) in the sense of homeland.22
The tendency to “cleanse” one’s language of (selected) foreign in-
fluences was by no means restricted to Iran. As Fereydun Âdami-
yyat has pointed out:
An important feature of nationalist trends apparent in all Asian so-
cieties (of course to different extents) is their special dislike of the
manifestations of the culture and civilization that had earlier dom-
inated and influenced them. This dislike and avoidance may seem
to be childish, but must be understood in the interest of the correct
analysis of nationalism in the East.23
In Iran, such antipathy was mainly directed at Arabic. A leading
early proponent of weeding out Arabic influences from the Per-
sian language was the above-mentioned Qajar prince, Jalâl-al-Din
Mirzâ, who wrote his Nâme-ye khosrovân (Book of Kings) in
“Pure Persian” (3 volumes, 1868–71). He sent this book to Âkhun-
dzâde and wrote in the accompanying letter:
As I pondered the thought of writing a book in the style of our fore-
fathers which, like our other knowledge, is pillaged by Arabs and
from which only a name has survived, (I decided) to write a book
which would benefit the people of our birthplace.24
22 As is readily apparent, Tâlebof used mellat in the sense of nation and vatan
to mean French patrie. This became clear when he spoke of liberty, equality,
and the voice of the majority; see Abdul-Hadi Hairi, Shi’ism and Constitu-
tionalism in Iran (Leiden, 1977), pp. 44–45.
23 Âdamiyyat, Andishe-hâ-ye Mirzâ Âqâ Khân Kermâni, pp. 266–67.
24 Jalâl-al-Din Mirzâ to Âkhundzâde (Baku, 1870), in Âkhundzâde, Alef-
bâ-ye jadid va Maktubât, p. 373.
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In his reply, Âkhundzâde praised the prince’s work:

It is particularly praiseworthy that your Excellency has completely
eradicated Arabic words from the Persian language. I wish that oth-
ers would emulate you and emancipate our language, which is the
sweetest of all languages in the world, from admixture with the
rough and hard Arabic language. As your honorable Excellency is
trying to liberate our language from the domination of Arabic, I am
working hard to save our nation from the Arabic script. Let us hope
for a third person to come along to liberate our nation from the yoke
of much of the condemned customs of these Arabs who doubly de-
stroyed our country, which is the flower garden of the world, and
brought such misery, harm, degradation, servitude, and corruption
upon us.25
Though equally concerned with the baleful effects of the Arab
domination of Iran, Mirzâ Âqâ Khan Kermâni took a different
stance. He was harshly critical of the champions of “Pure Persian,”
like Jalâl-al-Din Mirzâ, Esmâ’il Khan Tuyserkâni, Gowhar Yazdi,
and Manakji Pârsi—whom he denounced as johhâl (ignorant peo-
ple) and sofahâ (demented people). He accused them of concocting
“false fabrications” and “forming a tasteless and impertinent lan-
guage under the pretext of resurrecting the clear language of our
ancestors.” “No speaker of Persian, however,” he wrote, “has ever
spoken or written in this language, which is incapable of commu-
nicating any sense and science.”26 Tâlebof approvingly elaborates
on Mirzâ Âqâ Khan’s rejection of Jalâl-al-Din Mirzâ’s theory of
“unsullied Persian.”
Jalâl-al-Din Mirzâ and others of a similar persuasion were un-
doubtedly influenced by nationalist trends, but there was also an
element of practical necessity given the need for the creation of new
words to describe modern concepts. Jalâl-al-Din Mirzâ’s sugges-
tion that an academy for coining new words was needed in Iran
actually materialized decades later in the Farhangestân. Contrary
to Tâlebof’s opinion, it did not prove impossible to coin new words.
25 Âkhundzâde to Jalâl-al-Din Mirzâ (15 June 1870), in Âkhundzâde, Alef-
bâ-ye jadid va Maktubât, pp. 171–72.
26 Mirzâ Âqâ Khân Kermâni, Âyine-ye Sekandari, ed. Z. Motarjem-al-Molk
(Tehran, 1906), p. 577.
492
In fact, it is this versatile ability to adapt that has ensured the sur-
vival of the Persian language. Had there been no such changes in
the past one hundred years, Persian would have been swamped
by an influx of foreign words that would have radically altered its
syntax. Jalâl-al-Din Mirzâ’s other suggestion, to “purge” Persian
of Arabic words, proved less practicable; Arabic words have been
incorporated into Persian vocabulary for the past fourteen hun-
dred years, are used by many eloquent Persian poets and writers,
and are fully digested into the phonetics and grammatical and se-
mantic structures of Persian. Many have acquired new meanings in
the process. Their purging and replacement by unfamiliar, archaic,
and dead words would have impoverished Persian vocabulary and
destroyed its efficacy as a language—a fact of which Tâlebof was
well aware.
4. Translations
As already pointed out in a previous section, Abbâs Mirzâ, Fath-

Ali Shah’s crown prince, realized the need for acquiring Western
science and technology; moreover, he was curious about the way
European royalty ruled over their domains and the general con-
ditions that prevailed in Europe. He ordered that biographies of
such famous figures as Alexander the Great, Peter the Great, and
Charles XII of Sweden to be translated into Persian. One of the
first of these translations appeared in 1820, when Mirzâ Rezâ Ta-
brizi, known as Mirzâ Rezâ Mohandes, translated Voltaire’s His-
tory of Peter the Great as well as a section of Edward Gibbon’s The
Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire.
Decades later, Nâser-al-Din Shah also realized that under-
standing the material fabric of Western civilization would not be
possible without some inkling of Western culture in general. The
influential court translator in residence, Mohammad-Hasan Khan
E’temâd-al-Saltane (1843–96), also believed that acquiring a knowl-
edge of European languages was essential for the establishment of
better relationships with other nations and as a key to a deeper
493
PERSIAN PROSE
understanding of their science, technology, and industry.27 This

finally paved the way for the establishment of the Royal Office of
Translation (Dâr al-tarjome-ye homâyuni) under the care of Mo-
hammad-Hoseyn Forughi (Dhokâ’-al-Molk I, 1839–1907).
Many of the works translated under the direction of Forughi
that have reached us from the Qajar period are romantic or histori-
cal novels. The king and his entourage were anxious to learn about
events within the European domain and also about the general so-
cial life in different countries. The translators of novels often con-
sidered their translations as a way of familiarizing and educating
their readers by describing the historical and geographical situa-
tion in the outside world. The consent of the shah and the princes,
who often commissioned the translations, was a decisive factor. For
a variety of reasons, European novels found their way into Persian
literature mainly through the medium of French. The majority of
foreign teachers in the Dâr al-Fonun were French. Moreover, as the
universal language of diplomacy at the time, French also emerged
as the language of learning, science, and scholarship in Iran.28
It is also true that, as one scholar put it, freedom seeking Irani-
ans of the time looked upon some of these works, particularly those
of Alexandre Dumas père, as having revolutionary contents. They
compared the heroism of the characters in such novels with the
feelings and actions of those at home who also longed for liberty.29
Among his novels translated into Persian were Le Comte de Monte
Cristo (published in Tabriz in 1891) and Les Trois Mousquetaires
(3 vols., Tehran, 1898). Both were translated by Mohammad-Tâher
Mirzâ (son of Abbâs Mirzâ).
There were also remarkable works which stood out from the rest
and remain literary classics noted for their artistic style, notably
the translation of James Morier’s The Adventures of Hajji Baba of
Ispahan by Mirzâ Habib Esfahâni (1835–93), who also translated
27 E’temâd-al-Saltane, al-Ma’ âther va’l-âthâr (reprint, Tehran, 1984), p. 127.

28 Christophe Balaÿ, La Genèse du roman persan moderne (Paris, 1998), p. 10,
tr. M. Qavimi and N. Khattât as Peydâyesh-e român-e Fârsi (Tehran, 1998),
p. 12.
29 Homâ Nâteq, Kâr-nâme-ye farhangi-ye Farangi dar Irân (1837–1921),
(Tehran, 2000), p. 65.
494
Alain-René Lesage’s Gil Blas and Molière’s Le Misanthrope (as

Mardom-goriz). His Persian translation of Hajji Baba is regarded
as one of the finest specimens of modern Persian prose. He showed
much ingenuity by opting for colloquial Persian words and phrases
wherever appropriate, reflecting idiomatic usages peculiar to vari-
ous classes or groups. At the same time, he demonstrated the mal-
leability of his style by following, wherever appropriate, the style
of the best examples of traditional Persian prose. According to Mo-
hammad-Taqi Bahâr:
It sometimes resembles the Golestân of Sa’di in eloquence, fluency,
elegance, and maturity. Elsewhere, it resembles European prose in
visualizing various scenes, arousing the people, and exciting the
reader. It is simple and technical at the same time. It accords both
with the style of old masters of prose and with modern ways of ex-
pression. It is one of the masterpieces of the 19th century.30
Mirzâ Habib Esfahâni’s success demonstrated that the Persian
language had sufficient flexibility to convey successfully the latest
works of fiction translated from other languages.
Novels were not the only texts that were translated into Persian
during the Qajar period. Works of great thinkers and philosophers
also provided material for translation. Discours de la Méthode by
Descartes, mentioned earlier, was translated by Rahim Musâ’i
Hamadâni, often referred to as Mollâ Lâlezâr. Other notable ex-
amples include John Stuart Mill’s On Liberty published under the
title of Manâfe’-e horriyat (Benefits of Liberty). The Meditations
of Marcus Aurelius was translated as Pand-nâme-ye qeysar-e Rum
by Abd-al-Rahim Tâlebof from its Russian translation and pub-
lished in Istanbul in 1895.
Apart from such translations, 19th century Iranian intellectuals
produced works that had been deeply influenced by European think-
ers. Mirzâ Fath-Ali Âkhundzâde expounded his materialistic ideas in
his Maktubât-e Kamâl-al-Dowle (The Letters of Kamal-al-Dowle),
published in 1862, while Mirzâ Âqâ Khan Kermâni was influenced
by French and British empiricism in his own philosophical writings.
30 Moḥammad-Taqi Bahâr, Sabk-shenâsi yâ târikh‑e tatavvor‑e nathr‑e Fârsi

(rev. ed., 3rd repr., 3 vols., Tehran, 1970), II, p. 366.
495
PERSIAN PROSE
Mirzâ Malkom Khan Nâzem-al-Dowle analyzed Iranian society and

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

literature. One notable example is Safar-nâme-ye Nâser-e Khos-
row (Travelogue of Nâser-Khosrow), dating from the 11th century.
In more recent times, Nâser-al-Din Shah’s accounts of his travels
in Iran and abroad, mostly extracted from his diaries, were litho-
graphed or printed during his own lifetime and later. They were
couched in simple straightforward diction, not very far from collo-
quial language, and often enlivened by a witty aside. His style was
emulated by Iranian envoys and other politicians of the time.
Other travelogues of the Qajar period, describing the impres-
sions of Iranians travelling abroad, provide us with many examples
31 Fereydun Âdamiyyat, Fekr-e âzâdi va moqaddame-ye nahzat-e mashruti-
yyat (Tehran, 1951), pp. 186–98.
496
of the way the West was perceived by them and their reactions to
the manners and mores of different cities and countries in Europe.
An early example is Masir-e Tâlebi fi belâd al-Afranji (Calcutta,
1813), better known as Safar-nâme-ye Abu Tâleb Landani (Travel-
ogue of Abu-Tâleb of London). The travelogue described the codes
of etiquette and the way men and women conducted themselves
in social gatherings in England in fluent, attractive prose. He also
found his way into the lodges of the Freemasons.
Safar-nâme-ye Mirzâ Sâleh Shirâzi (Travelogue of Mirzâ Sâleh
Shirâzi) was compiled by one of a group of five students sent to Brit-
ain on the orders of Abbâs Mirzâ. There are also a number of other
travelogues including the Safar-nâme (an account of a pilgrimage
to Mecca and trip around the world) of Mirzâ Ali Khan Amin-al-
Dowle (1844–1904), the Safar-nâme of Hâjji Pirzâde (ca. 1835–1904),
and the Khâterât (Memoirs) of Hâj Sayyâh (Mirza Mohammad-Ali
Mahallâti, 1836–1925). In their accounts of visits to other countries,
these writers usually have a double perspective as they simultane-
ously compare the conditions that they witness abroad with those
that they had encountered at home, usually to the detriment of the
latter, lamenting the backwardness and lack of freedom in Iran.
There were also examples of fictious travelogues whose social
and political content were conveyed obliquely through imagi-
nary other worlds. In this category, one of the most notable is Si-
yâhat-nâme-ye Ebrâhim-Beyk (Ebrâhim-Beyk’s Travelogue). In
the third volume of this work (published in 1909, see below), Zeyn-
al-Âbedin Marâghe’i describes the spiritual visit of one of his char-
acters to the other world.
There are other works in which writers roam in the real world
by way of imagining or rather satirizing, through the eyes of a be-
mused observer, the acrimonious meeting of different classes and
professions including the clergy and the members of the bureaucracy
deriding each other’s conduct and profession as in Malkom Khan’s
Sayyâhi guyad (A Traveller Relates) as well as in its second part on
the Ferqe-ye kajbinân (The Squint-Eyed Sect), which pokes fun at
the convoluted and vapid style of rhymsters masquerading as poets.32
32 Mirza Malkom Khan, Rasâ’el, pp. 187–212.
497
PERSIAN PROSE
6. Memoirs
Closely related and sometimes indistinguishable from travelogues,

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

(1996), pp. 5–25.
34 Aref Qazvini, Khâterât-e Âref Qazvini, ed. Mehdi Nur-Mohammadi (Teh-
ran, 2009).
35 Iraj Parsinejad, Ali Dashti va naqd-e adabi (Tehran, 2008), p. 14.
498
7. Forerunners of Novels
Among the forerunners of modern novelists are the already men-

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

simple writing, under the influence of Malkom Khan and his work
Sayyâhi guyad, his own style of writing influenced subsequent
writers including Ali-Akbar Dehkhodâ (1879–1956) in works such
as Charand-o parand (Stuff and Nonsense), and Mohammad Ali
Jamâlzâde (1892–1997) in his own seminal book of short stories
Yeki bud yeki nabud (Once Upon a Time).
36 LHP, IV, p. 467.
37 Zeyn-al-Âbedin Marâghe’i, Siyâhat-nâme-ye Ebrâhim-Beyk, III, p. 29.
499
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Masâlek al-mohsenin (Principles of the Beneficent) by Mirzâ

Abd-al-Rahim Tâlebof (1833–1911) is written in the form of the
travelogue of an imaginary group of trekkers climbing to the sum-
mit of Mount Damâvand. It embodies Tâlebof’s critical, social, and
philosophical ideas.38 Here, Tâlebof discusses conditions of the
Iranian society and investigates the causes of its decline, making
some critical remarks on literature, including the mindless repeti-
tion of traditional themes.
Tâlebof’s other book, Ketâb-e Ahmad (The Book of Ahmad),
also known as Safine-ye Tâlebi (Tâlebi’s Anthology), published in
two volumes in Istanbul (1893–94), is a hybrid, part novel and part
a pedagogic tract. It is organized around a dialogue between Ah-
mad, the author’s imaginary son, who raises many questions about
scientific discoveries and advances of his time, and the author him-
self, who offers enlightening answers in response. These questions
and answers may appear rudimentary, but in their time they were
significant for their clear and simple exposition of scientific con-
cepts, a task at which Tâlebof was a pioneering figure in Iran. Tâle-
bof tells us that he was inspired to write this book by Jean-Jacques
Rousseau’s Émile and modelled the oriental Ahmad on his western
counterpart.
8. Historical Novels
The period between 1909 and 1921, spanning the years between the
Constitutional Revolution and Rezâ Khan’s coup d’etat, was also
the era when the historical novel was born and took shape.
38 It is said that Masâlek al-mohsenin is an adaptation of The Last Day of a

Philosopher by the English chemist and physicist Sir Humphry Davy (1778–
1829). The book narrates Davy’s travels in Italy (1814–18) and discusses the
formation of the universe, elemental compounds, the passage of time, and
the rise and fall of nations in the from of a dialogue. Camille Flammarion
(1842–1925), the French astronomer, chanced upon his book and translated
and published it in 1872. Tâlebof substitutes a hike to Mt. Damavand for
Davy’s trip to Italy. On Talebof’s familiarity with the thought and works of
Flammarion, see Rashid Yâsami, Irânshahr 2/5–6 (1922), pp. 283–97.
500
From a literary point of view, historical novels in Persian famil-

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

hâ-ye târikhi-ye Fârsi (Tehran, 2002).
40 Gholâm, Român-e târikhi.
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PERSIAN PROSE
in two parts, Bombay, 1921, and Tehran, 1925), and several other
novels including Dâstân-e Mâni-ye naqqâsh (Story of Mani the
Painter, 1926) all enjoyed a wide readership.
In addition to the above, many other historical novels were pub-
lished by other writers during the same period. Some of these suf-
fered from careless anachronistic observations, giving their work
an unintended comical effect.41 However, what is truly lacking in
historical novels of this period is an accurate portrayal of the lives
of ordinary people in times past. Writers of these novels are pri-
marily concerned with the battles, heroism and courage of kings,
grand viziers, and commanders. Moreover, few of them attempted
to adopt their style and diction to fit the period depicted, thereby
offering a more convincingly realistic portrayal of the era in their
narrative.
9. Early Novels with Social Themes
It was partly under the influence of novels translated from Euro-

pean languages, as well as a growing market of urban middle class
readers in the two decades between 1921 and 1941 that the social
novel emerged. The subject matter was primarily people’s eco-
nomic problems, lives of the deprived, the oppression exercised by
the ruling élite, and the corruption of the same élite. However, they
were often written in highly sentimental language, designed to stir
up pity and compassion in the reader. According to the Marxist
critic Ehsân Tabari (1917–89):
When Hedâyat appeared and was developing his prodigious talents
in the gloom of obscurity, writing in Iran was confined to writing
artificial stories with sham emotions and vapid phraseology. The
main theme of these stories consisted of the perfidy of the man
and the deceit of the woman and her ending up in a brothel and a
fervid defense of the tender emotions of these prostitutes by such
41 Sâdeq Hedâyat wrote an amusing parody of this style, Dâstân-e bâstâni yâ

român-e târikhi (Ancient Story or Historical Novel); see Iraq Parsinejad, A
History of Literary Criticism in Iran (1866–1951), pp. 221–22.
502
a phraseology which represented them as literary scholars and phi-

losophers in the course of a handful of trite and ridiculous sentences
that were written in large coarse print. Under the ghastly influence
of the translations of the most hackneyed European stories Roman
de Boulevard, like detective stories of Maurice Leblanc and adven-
tures of Michel Zevaco, Iranian imitators had started to spin out
their most incongruous fantasies. The mind and taste of Iranian
readers were blinded and destroyed by this trash and cliché. It is as
if a person encountered nothing interesting and believable in his life,
or that in the life of a person there were no more important events
than loving a young girl and being unfaithful to her and the woman’s
inevitable turn to prostitution.42
The journalistic prose utilized in these social novels was character-
ized by a slapdash style and poor grammar.
Majma’-e divânegân (Assembly of Mad People), published in
1924, was one of the first examples of the social novel in Iran. The
author was the already mentioned Abd-al-Hoseyn San’atizâde
Kermâni. It has been referred to as the first Persian novel that was
based on the idea of Utopia.43 Shahrnâz (1923) was written by Ya-
hyâ Dowlatâbâdi, whom we have also mentioned in another con-
text. In the preface, he points out that he wrote the novel in Istanbul
in 1916 during World War I and took his characters from people he
had encountered in real life, but this of course could in itself be a
novelist’s fictional device to add luster to a sentimental novel.
Tehrân-e makhuf (The Horrific Tehran) was written by Mor-
tazâ Moshfeq Kâzemi (1902–1978), first as a serialized novel and
later published in two volumes in 1923. This, too, depicts a grim
picture of the city and the plight of its citizens, particularly the
precarious position of women. It remains his most memorable
work, although several other novels followed suit. Abbâs Khalili
(1895–1971) also produced three sentimental novels couched in a
sensational tone depicting the plight of women: Ruzegâr-e siyâh
(Bleak Times, 1924), Enteqâm (Revenge, 1925), and Asrâr-e shab
(Nocturnal Secrets, 1926).
42 In Mâh-nâme-ye Mardom 10 (1947), p. 44.

43 Yahyâ Âryanpur, Az Sabâ tâ Nimâ, II, p. 274.
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From among writers of social novels in the subsequent period,

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

Half of the Twentieth Century
Like novels, short stories constitute a new genre in Persian prose.

The first example of this was Yeki bud yeki nabud (Once Upon a
44 Sâdeq Hedâyat, Vagh vagh sâhâb (Tehran, 1962), p. 152.
504
Time) by Mohammad-Ali Jamâlzâde, published in Berlin in 1921.

The six short stories in the book primarily depict the ignorance,
disorder, and backwardness of Iranian society, a theme already
explored in social novels discussed earlier. What distinguishes
Jamâlzâde’s work is the use of a simple style of Persian replete with
many familiar proverbial and idiomatic phrases.
It also had a precedent in the already cited satirical columns by
Ali-Akbar Dehkhodâ under the title Charand-o parand, which
appeared in the newspaper Sur-e Esrâfil (1906–7). In these writ-
ings, Dehkhodâ had utilized colloquial Persian and idiomatic ex-
pressions prevalent among ordinary people. In his Fârsi shekar ast
(Persian is [as Sweet as] Sugar), one of the stories in Yeki bud yeki
nabud, Jamâlzâde, like Dehkhodâ, pokes fun at the tortuous arti-
ficiality of so-called “erudite” writing.
However, the most important role played by Jamâlzâde was to
create distinct set-types as characters, each with his own socio-
lect. This marked a departure from narratives in classical Persian
in which no such distinctions were made and writers and poets
put their own words into the mouths of their various characters
without adapting them to fit their mode of expression. As a result,
the language of people belonging to various classes and strata was
merely a replica of the monotonous language of the narrator.45
The variety of modern Persian prose can further seen in a great
number of novels, as well as in long and short stories, produced
by Iranian writers in the first half of the twentieth century: Sa’id
Nafisi (1895–1966) produced the novels Nime-râh-e behesht (Half
Way to Paradise) and Farangis as well as collections of short stories
under the titles of Setâregân-e siyâh (Black Stars) and Mâh-e Na-
khshab (The Moon of Nakhshab), exhibiting a variety of genres,
historical, romantic, and satirical. His Nime-râh-e behesht is a po-
litical satire in which some members of the ruling establishment
are criticized within the framework of a novel, while Farangis is a
weak sensational love story.
Mohammad Hejâzi (1900–1974) produced the novels Homâ
(1927), Parichehr (1929), and Zibâ (1931), all three, as indicated by
45 Khânlari, “Nathr dar dowre-ye akhir,” pp. 156–57.
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the titles, concerned with the fate and fortune of women and the
account of their love affairs and ambitions in an upper middle class
society. Zibâ is generally considered as his finest novel. It docu-
ments the political and administrative situation during the Con-
stitutional Revolution, and can be looked upon as an indictment of
the ruling bureaucracy.46 In most of Hejâzi’s works (long or short
stories and literary essays) the aim is to nurture human sentiments
and to preach morality. In his view, nature is where sentiments and,
above all, love are nurtured and society constitutes the location for
morality and behavior to manifest themselves. This sentimental re-
lationship with nature and belief in its effect on the transformation
of human mentality and behavior are new phenomena influenced
by German and French romanticism. Works such as Goethe’s Die
Leiden des jungen Werthers (The Sufferings of the Young Werther),
Chateaubriand’s René, and Lamartine’s poems have influenced
Hejâzi.47 This is accompanied by the influence of classical Persian
poetry on the Persian prose of Hejâzi as well as those of his con-
temporaries such as Sa’id Nafisi and Ali Dashti.
Ali Dashti, author of the previously mentioned Ayyâm-e mah-
bas, also produced a number of love stories: Fetne (1949), Jâdu
(1949), and Hendu (1955). Dashti’s stories depict the narrator’s rela-
tionship with pretty, unbridled women from amongst the élite. In
the stories such as Fetne, Jâdu, and Hendu, the principal character
is a capricious woman. The man facing these women is a woman-
izer who shares the same outlook and follows the same codes of
behaviour. Thus, the stories form a stage on which similar plays
are re-enacted, in a fluent prose. The writer uses words strictly to
convey specific meanings, although he sometimes utilizes French
words for no apparent reason, as it would not have been difficult to
find Persian equivalents.48
The grand master of the Persian short story is, however, Sâdeq
Hedâyat (1903–1951), who deeply influenced subsequent writ-
ers. In his collections of short stories Zende be gur (Buried Alive,
46 Hassan Kamshad, Modern Persian Prose (Cambridge, 1966), pp. 73–84.
47 Shâhrokh Meskub, Dâstân-e adabiyyât va sargozasht-e ejtemâ’ (Tehran,
1994), pp. 159–203.
48 Iraj Parsinejad, Khânlari va naqd-e adabi (Tehran, 2008), pp. 186–90.
506
1930), Se qatre khun (Three Drops of Blood, 1932), Sâye rowshan

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

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

This took the form of an adaptation of European theatrical art.
Mirzâ Fath-Ali Âkhundzâde was the forerunner in the art of writ-
ing theatrical plays in Iran. Some scholars even recognize him as
the progenitor of the art of writing plays in European style in the
entirety of Asia.49 From 1850 to 1856, Âkhundzâde wrote a col-
lection of six comedies in Turkish. The overall title was Tamthilât
(Allegories). Subsequently, the plays were translated from Turkish
into Russian by the playwright himself and from Turkish into Per-
sian by Mirzâ Mohammad-Ja’far Qarache-Dâghi.
In a note on Tamthilât, Âkhundzâde maintains that he has laid
the foundation of writing comedies in the Islamic world: “This
type of unfamiliar composition, with a witty, pleasant appearance
and a message of advice and guidance, did not exist in the world of
49 Fereydun Âdamiyyat, Andishe-hâ-ye Mirzâ Fath-Ali Khân Âkhundzâde
(Tehran, 1990), p. 32.
508
Islam. It was I who introduced it.”50 His claim is justified. Before

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

51 Âkhundzâde, Maktab-e Tabriz va mabâni-ye tajaddod-khwâhi, II, p. 365.
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Seyyed Ali Nasr (1891–1961). Among other things, he wrote Hâji

Riyâ’i Khân yâ Târtuf-e sharqi (Hajji the Hypocrite or the Orien-
tal Tartuffe, 1917) and Ostâd Noruz-e pine-duz (Master Noruz the
Cobbler, 1919). The former, as the title implies, was influenced by
Molière, while the latter depicted the lives of ordinary people. It
was a period piece using slang and colloquial words in its dialogues.
During the years 1921–41, when the state under Rezâ Shah ex-
ercised a strict control over the arts and cultural activity, theatri-
cal plays were limited to a few topics, including nationalistic or
patriotic scenarios, mainly inspired by the history of pre-Islamic
Iran. In this category, plays were produced by Sâdeq Hedâyat and
Dhabih Behruz. Hedâyat wrote two plays on this theme: Parvin
dokhtar-e Sâsân (Parvin the Daughter of Sâsân, 1928) and Mâziyâr
(1933). In these plays Iranian patriotic feelings and anti-Arabism
are more prominent than artistic or literary values.
The fiercely iconoclastic author Dhabih Behruz (1889–1971)
wrote the play Jijak Ali Shâh (1921), a satirical work in which the
court of Nâser-al-Din Shah is portrayed with a critical approach.
In this work, his language overflows with Persian colloquial ex-
pressions, in accordance with the language used by each charac-
ter. Behruz also wrote several plays including a single-act play on
the life of Ferdowsi, Shab-e Ferdowsi (1934). It was written in an
idiosyncratically archaic style, in line with his own notions of an
idealized pristine Persian culture devoid of foreign imports and
creeds.
There were also a few comic plays during this period. The pur-
pose behind them was to criticize the overall social situation with-
out invoking the wrath of the regime. The most notable of these
was the play Ja’ far Khân az farang âmade (Ja’far Khan Freshly Ar-
rived from Europe), by Hasan Moqaddam (1897–1925) in 1921. The
author had been educated in Switzerland since adolescence. Like
Ali-Akbar Dehkhodâ and Mohammad-Ali Jamâlzâde, he consid-
ered the Persian language to be one of the principal elements of
Iranian identity. He utilized a satirical style to criticize the risible
form of Persian used by young westernized people. The kind of
Persian presented in this play, mixed as it is with French words and
expressions, is reminiscent of Jamâlzâde’s Fârsi shekar ast.
510
12. Literary Criticism
In its strict academic sense, as prevalent in the West, literary crit-

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

and already cited pamphlet Reyhân-e bustân-afruz (Garden-Illu-
minating Fragrant Herb), in which he expressed his critical opin-
ions about Persian literature. Mirzâ Malkom Khan, whose prose
and language we analyzed in the opening chapter, was a writer,
sociologist and political scientist who also criticized political, re-
ligious, and literary figures who had contributed to the practice
of producing pompous, convoluted speech and writing. Zeyn-al-
Âbedin Marâghe’i, a writer as well as a social thinker, was another
such critic whose works and ideas we have elaborated earlier. Al-
though Mirzâ Abd-al-Rahim Tâlebof, a reformist and a critic, did
not produce anything specific in the field of literary criticism, we
can find some criticism of Persian prose and poetry implicit in his
works. The historian and linguist Ahmad Kasravi (1890–1946) had
some extreme views on classical and modern Persian literature.
Nevertheless, one can find a critical approach in his assessments.
The novelist Sâdeq Hedâyat ventured into literary criticism too.
His critiques are a testimony to his sharp intellect.52
An overall survey of the works of Iranian literary critics shows
us things that they all have in common: their attention to the idea
of modernity and progress, their emotional attachment to Iran and
to their compatriots, their concern for Persian language and their
commitment to the correct usage of simple, straightforward Per-
sian. Nonetheless, some of them occasionally deviated from the
path of moderation. Sometimes, they used modern intellectual
criteria in order to pass anachronistically unfavorable judgments
on the classical Persian literary heritage. At other times, they have
expected poets and writers to assume the role of missionaries vis-à-
vis public opinion and restrict their task to preaching moral, philo-
sophical, and patriotic values. However, all things considered, their
views in the realm of literary criticism have maintained their nov-
elty and a degree of authenticity even to this day.
52 Parsinejad, A History of Literary Criticism in Iran, pp. 197–263.
512
13. The Press and Journalism
The introduction of printing and the advent of journalism in Iran

have been important factors in the regeneration of modern Per-
sian prose. Journalism gave rise to a new prose genre. This prose
was used to express literary, social, and scientific concepts of the
modern world to Iranians, and it influenced and transformed their
thoughts. Moreover, journalism contributed to the growth of other
new genres with few precedents in Persian literature: stories, nov-
els, plays, satire, essays, and literary criticism. When Mirzâ Mal-
kom Khan began to publish the newspaper Qânun (The Law) in
London in 1890, he used a carefully crafted form of Persian prose
that was able to express modern Western concepts in the fields of
law, politics, and social science. When Jamâlzâde introduced short
stories into the realm of Persian literature and when Dehkhodâ did
the same with political satire, both of them used the press as their
medium. Serials, with historical, political, or literary content, were
also offered to Iranians through the press. The same can be said
about certain types of essays.
During the time of the constitutional struggle, Persian litera-
ture, its political and openly tendentious brands in particular, was
presented to the reader not in books or divâns, but through news-
papers and magazines. Yet, despite the great variety of new genres
in Persian prose created by the press, the haste to meet publication
deadlines, as well as the journalists’ lack of training, affected the
clarity and eloquence of their prose. Opaque or overly literal trans-
lations from English, French, Turkish, and Arabic produced an im-
poverished prose style. Nevertheless, as most newspaper readers
had just acquired literacy, they overlooked such shortcomings. It
sufficed for the topic to be comprehensible. Despite these short-
comings, the press constituted the best literary mirror of the time.53
The earliest Persian journals, especially those published outside
Iran, enjoyed liberty and could, therefore, be more outspoken in
their struggle against despotism, oppression and ignorance preva-
lent in Iran. Literary works offered by these publications reflected
53 HIL, p. 365.
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the aspirations, the needs, and the thoughts of Iranian poets and
writers in exile. Hassan Kamshad puts it in this way:
[T]he papers edited abroad introduced the most startling new lit-
erary forms and exerted real ideological influence on the general
public in Persia. These were generally prohibited in the country, but
were read clandestinely.54
As more schools opened and more people acquired literacy in Iran,
more printing houses were established, and the age of Iranian jour-
nalism began. Here, we do not intend to offer a history of Iranian
journals or Iranian journalism. Nonetheless, attention to newspa-
pers is important as they have influenced modern Persian prose and
as some of them have been conduits for creative writing.
The first Iranian newspapers were referred to by a loanword,
gâzet, derived from the West (gazeta, gazette) or by the Persian
term kâghaz-e akhbâr, a literal translation of the English word
newspaper. In 1837, during the reign of Mohammad Shah (1834–
48), Mirzâ Mohammad Sâleh Shirâzi, who had become acquainted
with printing technology in Britain, produced the first newspaper
in Iran. It was published without a title but was later referred to
as Akhbâr va vâqâye‘ or Kâghaz-e akhbâr. Newspapers devoted
to specific topics emerged later on: Merrikh (Mars) began to be
published in 1917, dealing with military matters. Elmi (Scientific)
emerged in 1918; As its title suggests, it dealt with scientific topics
in the fields of physics and mathematics.
The Persian newspapers published abroad were perhaps of even
greater significance, as they played a pivotal role in the enlighten-
ment of the Iranians and in informing them of political and so-
cial developments outside Iran. One of the most significant was
the newspaper Akhtar (Star), the first issue of which, in 1875, was
printed in Istanbul, with Âqâ Mohammad-Tâher Tabrizi as edi-
tor, and enjoyed contributions from such well-known intellectu-
als as Mirzâ Âqâ Khan Kermâni and Shaikh Ahmad Ruhi. The
newspaper was widely read throughout the Near and Middle East
as well as in India, and achieved such fame that it became almost
54 Kamshad, Modern Persian Prose Literature, p. 29.
514
synonymous with the new high-brow and progressive press and

people referred to regular newspaper readers as Akhtari-madhhab
(followers of the cult of Akhtar).55
Qânun was another influential newspaper; it was first pub-
lished in London on 20 Februrary 1890 by Mirzâ Malkom Khan.
Jan Rypka praises Qânun as “a paper which for fifteen years was
a model for the journalists of the Constitution.”56 And according
to Browne, the paper could be regarded as one of the main factors
that gave rise to political and literary renaissance in Iran.57 This
should not, however, divert attention from the cumulative impact
of the emergence of other influential newspapers at the end of the
19th and the beginning of the 20th century, both in Iran and abroad,
including such influential papers as the weekly Habl-al-Matin
(lit. Strong Cord, a Qur’anic reference), which began publication
in Calcutta in December 1893; Thorayyâ (The Pleiades), a weekly
paper printed in Cairo beginning in 1898; and Sur-e Esrâfil (The
Trumpet-Call of Esrâfil), another weekly that began publication
in Tehran in 1907, under the ownership of its first editor Mirza
Jahângir Khan Shirâzi.
More relevant, perhaps, in the context of the development of
prose and literary criticism are the magazines and periodicals of
the time with a focus on literature and cultural topics. The po-
et-laureate Mohammad-Taqi Bahâr began publishing the magazine
Dâneshkade (Academy) in 1918. A number of poets and writers
co-operated with him. He introduced some European works of
literature and urged poets to express new ideas in the mould of
classical poetry. The overall policy of Dâneshkade was to preserve
old traditions of Persian literature while embracing a cautious
modernism.58 The magazine lasted for no more than a year. Bahâr
replaced it with the weekly Nowbahâr in 1925. Like its predecessor,
the magazine offered socio-political articles as well as literary texts,
55 E. G. Browne, The Press and Poetry of Modern Persia (Cambridge, 1914),

pp. 17–18.
56 HIL, p. 366.
57 Browne, Press and Poetry, p. 19.
58 Parsinejad, Bahâr va naqd-e adabi, pp. 39–43.
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including translations from European novels and poems. It offered

modern works of verse and prose.
Armaghân (The Gift) was published as a monthly literay magazine
from 1919 under the editorship of the traditionalist poet and scholar
Hasan Vahid Dastgerdi (1880–1942). It had a traditionalist slant and
was more conservative than Bahâr’s Dâneshkade in rejecting mod-
ernist innovations. On the other hand, similar to Dâneshkade, it had
many of the most eminent scholars of the time as contributors writ-
ing on a wide range of topics, including literature, history, and sci-
entific topics. After Vahid Dastgerdi’s death, his son, Mahmud Va-
hidzâde, continued publication in the same manner for many years.
In addition to publishing Armaghân, Vahid Dastgerdi presided over
the literary society Hakim Nezâmi and edited his Khamse.
Âyande (The Future) was a magazine dedicated to literary re-
search. It began to be published by Mahmud Afshâr (1893–1983)
in 1925. The declared aim of the publication was ensuring the “na-
tional unity of Iran”. A number of scholars, including Forughi,
Dashti, Kasravi and Dowlatâbâdi were among the contributors.
The journal had a second lease of life after the Iranian Revolution
of 1979 when Mahmud Afshâr’s son, Iraj Afshâr (1925–2011), one
of the foremost and prolific scholars of contemporary Iran, re-
sumed its publication until 1994.
14. Conclusion
Our study of various forms of modern prose in Persian literature

informs us of the great variety to be found in the works of Iranian
writers in the 19th and early 20th centuries. Literary genres such as
novels, short stories, plays, and literary criticism, in their modern
forms, were absent from classical Persian literature. Their intro-
duction into Persian literature was the result of gradual familiar-
ization with European culture.
The main characteristic of modern Persian prose, in the period
discussed, is its tendency towards simplicity and lucidity and its
avoidance of abstruseness and artificiality. The new generation of
516
Iranian writers noticed that the bureaucratic or “secretarial” prose

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

(London)
CHIr The Cambridge History of Iran (Cambridge, 1968–1989)
EAL Encyclopedia of Arabic Literature, 1 st edition (London, 1998)
EI 1 Encyclopaedia of Islam, 1 st edition (Leiden, 1913–1936)
EI 2 Encyclopaedia of Islam, 2 nd edition (Leiden, 1954–2005)
EI 3 Encyclopaedia of Islam, 3 rd edition (Leiden, 2007–)
EIr Encyclopaedia Iranica (New York, print 1982–, online 1996–)
HdO Handbuch der Orientalistik (Leiden, 1968)
HIL Jan Rypka, History of Iranian Literature (Dordrecht, 1968)
HPL A History of Persian Literature (New York, 2009–)
IrSt Iranian Studies, Journal of the Association for Iranian Studies
(Boston etc.)
IA İslam Ansiklopedisi (Istanbul, 1988–2013)
IJMES International Journal of Middle East Studies (Cambridge)
JA Journal Asiatique (Paris)
JAL Journal of Arabic Literature (Leiden)
JAOS Journal of the American Oriental Society (Boston)
JESHO Journal of the Economic and Social History of the Orient
(Leiden)
JNES Journal of Near Eastern Studies (Chicago)
JRAS The Journal of the Royal Asiatic Society (London)
LHP Edward G. Browne, A Literary History of Persia (London,
1902–1924)
MDAT Majalle-ye Dâneshkade-ye adabiyyât (Tehran)
PL C. A. Storey, Persian Literature (London, 1927–1953)
PL François de Blois, Persian Literature (London, 1994–2004)
TADI Târikh‑e adabiyyât dar Irân (Tehran, 1956–1991)
ZDMG Zeitschrift der Deutschen Morgenländischen Gesellschaft
(Halle)
521
INDEX
Abân-e Lâheqi 98 Abu-Abd-Allâh, kâteb 63

Abaqa 51 Abu-Bakr, Caliph 62, 456
Abbâs I, Shah 191, 274, 322, 363, Abu-Bakr b. Abi-Nasr 125
387, 429–31, 476 Abu-Bakr b. Sa’d-e Zangi 124–25
Abbâs II, Shah 237, 258 Abu-Eshâq (Injuid) 223
Abbâs Mirzâ xxiv, 482, 493, 497 Abu-Kâlijâr Garshâsp 234
Abd-al-Hâdi 263 Abu-Mansur Haravi, al-Abniye
Abd-al-Hamid b. Yahyâ Kâteb 63 an haqâyeq al-adviye 218
Resâle elâ’ l-kottâb 7 Abu-Moselm-nâme (Tarsusi) 349,
Abd-al-Hoseyn Mirzâ Qâjâr 206 386, 396, 420–23
Abd-al-Kâfı b. Abi’l-Barakât 392 Abu-Moslem Khorâsâni 73, 109,
Abd-al-Kâteb, Mohammad 48 340, 386, 421
Abd-al-Motalleb 403, 405 Abu-Nasr Haravi, Qâsem b. Yusof
Abd-al-Rahim Khân-e Ershâd al-zerâ’e 66, 259, 260
Khânân 364–65, 368 Tariq-e qesmat-e âb-e qolb 259
Abd-al-Razzâq, Jamâl-al-Din 362 Abu-Nowâs (Abu Nuwas) 8, 445
Abd-Allâh b. Tâher 457 Abu-Sa’id b. Abi’l-Kheyr,
Abd-Allâh II b. Eskander Sheikh 348, 350–51
Khân 224, 430–31 Abu-Sa’id b. Mohammad
Abd-Allâh Qotb-Shâh 431 (Timurid) 326
al-Abniye an haqâyeq al-adviye Abu-Sa’id Bahadur (Il-
(Abu-Mansur Haravi) 218, Khânid) 43
256 Abu-Sofyân 405
Abu Ma’shar Balkhi Abu-Tâleb Landani, Safar-nâme-ye
Great Introduction to Abu T âleb Landani 497
Astrology 233 Abu-Tâleb Toghrel b. Arslan b.
Ketâb al-oluf 233 Toghrel 224
Abu Mekhnaf Lut b. Yahyâ 426–27 Abu’l-Alâ Sâlem 7
Akhbâr-e Mokhtâr 427 Abu’l-Favâres Fanâruzi 113
Maqtal-e Ali 427 Abu’l-Fedâ’, Ketâb taqvim
Maqtal-e Hoseyn 427 al-boldân 246
Abu Voheyb Bohlul b. Amr Abu’l-Mehjan 428
Seyrafı see Bohlul Abu’l-Mohsen 134
523
PERSIAN PROSE
Abu’l-Qâsem Bâbor b. Bahâdor 358 Ahd-e Ardashir 99–100, 135–36

al-Adab al-kabîr (Ebn-al- Ahd-nâme-ye Ardashir-e
Moqaffa’) xxvi, 7, 63 Bâbak 61
Adab al-kottâb (Mesri) 10 Ahmad b. Rosteh 245
Adab al-kottâb (Suli) 10 Ahmad-e Hasan (Ghaznavid
Âdâb al-mashq (Rafıqi-Haravi) 277 vizier) 48
Âdab al-moluk va kefâyat al- Ahmadabad 434
mamluk (Mobârak Ahnaf b. Qeys 104
shâh) 128–29, 130 Ahrâr, Obeyd-Allâh Khwâje 71,
Âdamiyyat, Fereydun 491 346–47
Âdharak 405 Ahsan al-tavârikh (Rumlu) 331
The Adventures of Hajji Baba of Ahvâzi, Abu’l-Hasan 27
Ispahan (Morier, transl. Mirzâ Ajall Âlam Beg Ali, Amir-e 21–22
Habib Esfahâni) 494, 495 Ajâyeb al-makhluqât va gharâyeb
Aesop 458 al-mowjudât (Qazvini) 224,
Âfarin-nâme (Abu-Shakur 250, 262
Balkhi) 106 Ajâyeb al-makhluqât va gharâyeb
Aflâki, Shams-al-Din Ahmad 36 al-mowjudât (Tusi-
Manâqeb al-ârefin 353–54 Salmâni) 224
Afrâsiyâb 16, 109 Akbar, Emperor 135, 238
Afsâne-hâ (Sobhi) 476 Akhaveyni of Bukhara, Hedâyat
Afsâne-hâ-ye bâstâni-ye Irân va al-mota’allemîn fı’l tebb 218
Majâr (Sobhi) 476 Akhbâr Abi-Moslem sâheb
Afsâne-hâ-ye Bu-Ali Sinâ al-da’wa (Marzbâni) 421
(Sobhi) 476–77 Akhbâr al-zerâf va’l-motamâjenin
Afsâne-hâ-ye kohan (Sobhi) 477 (Ebn-al-Jowzi) 468
Afshâr Begeshlu Qazvini, Mirzâ Akhbâr-e Mokhtâr (Abu
Rezâ see Qazvini, Mirzâ Mekhnaf) 427
Rezâ Khân Afshâr Begeshlu Akhlâq-e Hakimi (Hasan-Ali
Afshâr, Iraj 242, 414, 516 Monshi Khâqâni) 135–36
Afshâr, Mahmud 516 Akhlâq-e Jahângiri (Qâzi Nur-
Afshâr, Sâdeqi Beyg, Qânun Allah Khâqâni) 136
al-sovar 274 Akhlâq-e Jalâli (Davâni) 81, 83,
Afshari, Mehran xiii, xxxi, xxxii, 86, 134, 135, 136
379–454, 455–80 Akhlâq-e Mohseni (Kâshefı) 81,
Aghrâz al-siyâse fı a’râz al-riyâse 86, 134–35, 136
(Zahiri-Samarqandi) 109, Akhlâq-e Mohtashami (Tusi) 110
112–13 Akhlâq-e Nâseri (Tusi) 81, 83,
Aghrâz al-tebiyye va’l-mabâheth 108, 109, 130, 132–33, 134,
(Jorjâni) 255 135, 137
Agra 364 Akhtar 514–15
524
Index
Âkhundzâde, Mirzâ Fath-Ali b. Alexandria 417

Mirzâ Mohammad-Taqi Alf al-nahâr 474
xxxi, 197, 277–78, 483, Alf khorâfe 472
491–92, 508–9, 511 Alf leyle va leyle 112, 472
Irâd 486–87 Ali Âdel Shâh 237
Maktubât-e Kamâl-al-Dowle Ali b. Abi-Tâleb 62–63, 106–7,
483, 495 382, 404–5, 427–29, 449
Maqâle-ye alefbâ-ye jadid 488 Ali Ebrâhim Khân Khalil, Sohof-e
Qeritikâ 486 Ebrâhim 365–66
Tamthilât 508–9 Ali-nâme (Rabi’) 402
Âkhundzâde, Mohammad Sadiq, Ali-Shir Navâ’i, Mir see Navâ’i,
Tadhkerat al-nesâ 370 Mir Ali-Shir
Âl-e Ahmad, Jalâl 508 Alizâde, Abd-al-Karim 42–43, 48
Alâ’-al-Din III Keyqobâd 127, 300 Allâhâbâdi, Mohammad Afzal
Alâ’-al-Din Takesh b. Arslân 24– Thâbet 434
25, 222, 248 Allâmi, Abu’l-Fazl 253
Alâ’-al-Dowle Kâkuye 154 Almagest (Ptolemy) 232, 262
Alâ’-al-Dowle Semnâni, Ahmad Alp Arslân 109, 119, 303, 438
b. Mohammad 166, 180–84 Alptegin 48, 72
Bayân al-eshân le-ahl al-erfân Alqâs 322
180–81 Alqash 402–3
Chehel Majles 183 A’mâl va alqâb (Tabari) 229
Mosannafât 180–83 Âmeli, Bahâ’al-Din (Sheikh Bahâ’i),
Alâ’al-Din Mohammad b. Tekesh Jâme’-e Abbâsi 190–91, 193
248 Amid-al-Molk, Rashid-al-Din 76
Âlam-ârâ-ye Shâh Esmâ’il 386 Amin Ahmad Râzi, Haft
Âlam-ârâ-ye Shâh Tahmâsb 386 eqlim 362, 364–65
Alamut 132 Amin-al-Dowle, Mirzâ Ali Khan,
Alavi, Bozorg 507–8 Safar-nâme 497
Chamedân 507 Amini, Amir-Qoli 471
Cheshm-hâyash 507 Si afsâne az afsâne-hâ-ye
Nâme-hâ 507 mahalli-ye Esfahân 477
Panjâh o se nafar 507 Amir Arsalân (Naqib-al-Mamâlek
Varaq-pâre-hâ-ye zendân 507 Shirâzi) 386, 388–89, 434,
Alaviye Khânom (Hedâyât) 507 436–39, 441
Alefbâ-ye behruzi (Mirzâ Rezâ Amir Mardu 397
Afshâr) 196 Amir Shâhi Sabzavâri 356–58
Aleppo 158, 385, 400, 409, 410, 417 Amir-Kabir, Mirzâ Taqi
Alexander the Great 7, 16, 52, 104, Khan 482, 485
108–9, 111, 386, 387, 391–96, al-Âmoli, Bahâ’-al-Din, Kholâsat
399–402, 412, 418, 493 al-hesâb 227
525
PERSIAN PROSE
Âmoli, Shams-al-Din, Nafâyes Aqili Khorâsâni, Mohammad

al-fonun 221, 223 Hoseyn, Makhzan al-
Amr b. Leyth 109 adviye 258
Amr b. Omayye Zamri 403, 407, Aql-e sorkh (Sohravardi) 159
428 Âqsarâ’i, Karim-al-Din Mahmud,
Anatolia 36–37, 41–42, 126, 133, Mosâmarât al-akhbâr 302
226, 299–300, 308, 321–22, Arâ’es al-khavâter va nafâ’es
330, 438 al-navâder (Vatvât) 32–34
al-Andalus, Andalusia 252, 394 Arafât al-âsheqin va arasât al-ârefın
Andar dânesh-e rag (Resâle-ye (Owhadi Balyâni) 363–66
nabz) (Ebn-Sinâ) 154 Arâyes al-javâher fı nafâyes
Ansâri, Abd-Allâh xxviii, 75, 166, al-atâyeb (Kâshâni) 242
172–74, 257 Archimedes 239
Haft hesâr 174 Ardashir 61, 99–100, 105, 109,
Kanz al-sâlekin 174 111, 396, 399, 423
Ketâb-e sad meydân 173 Ardavân the Elder 109
Mahabbat-nâme 174 Ardavân, son of Farrokhzâd 418
Monâjât-nâme 150, 172–73 Ardavân the Younger 109
Nasâyeh 174 Âref Qazvini, Khâterât-e Âref-e
Qalandar-nâme 174 Qazvini 498
Resâle-ye del va jân 174 Aristotle 7, 59, 105, 108–9, 131,
Resâle-ye manâqeb-e Emâm 134, 163, 238–41, 243, 388,
Ahmad b. Hanbal 174 393, 399–400, 458
Resâle-ye Vâredât 174 Organon 9
Tabaqât al-sufıyye 174, 184, Poetics 9, 467
346, 353 Rhetoric 9, 59
Zâd al-ârefın 174 Armaghân 516
Antutiye 400, 402 Arrajân 408–9
Anushervan 103, 105, 108–9, 111, Arslân Aba b. Aq Sunqur 123
114, 118, 385 Asadi Tusi 256, 432
see also Nushirvân Asfâne-hâ-ye Âzerbâyjân
Anvâr, Qâsem 276 (Dehqâni and Behrangi) 477
Anvâr-e Soheyli (Kâshefı) 86, 100 Ashraf Khan, Soltân 444
Anvari, Owhad-al-Din Ashraf-e makhluqât (Mas’ud) 504
Mohammad 1, 46, 52 Ashtiany, Mohsen 294
Divân-e Anvari 58–59 Âshtiyâni, Mirzâ Hasan 201
Âqâ Tabrizi, Mirzâ 509 Askari, Abu-Helâl, Ketâb al-
Tariqe-ye hokumat-e Zamân senâ’ateyn: al-ketâbe
Khân Borujerdi va va’l-she’r 11
sargozasht-e ân ayâm 509 Aslah, Mohammad, Tadhkere-ye
Âqâ-Mohammad Khan 481 sho’arâ-ye Kashmir 369
526
Index
Asmâr al-Hamze 406 Bâbâ Tâher 297

Asrâr al-balâghe (Jorjâni) 12 Bâbeli, Abu Dhâtes 236
Asrâr al-hekam (Sabzavâri) 198 Bâbor, Zahir-al-Din Mohammad,
Asrâr al-towhid (Ebn-Monavvar) Emperor, Bâbor-nâme 320–
348, 350–51 21, 370–71
Asrâr-e shab (Khalili) 503 Bâbor-nâme (Bâbor) 320–21,
Assâr, Mohammad-Kâzem 201 370–71
Astarâbâd 358 Bache-hâ salâm (Sobhi) 476
Astarâbâdi, Ali b. Mohammad Badâye’ al-afkâr (Kâshefı) 79, 86
Shari’atmadâr, Jâme’-e Badâye’ al-hekam (Modarres
Nâseri 193–94 Tehrâni) 199–201
Astarâbâdi, Fazl-Allâh 275 Badâye’ al-vaqâye’ (Vâsefı) 320,
Astarâbâdi, Mohammad-Ja’far, 326, 328, 371, 429
Jâme’-e Mohammadi 193 Badi, Hasan Khan, Dâstân-e
Atâbak, Ali-Asghar Khân 474 Bâstân yâ Sargozasht-e
Atabat al-katabe (Joveyni) 20–24 Kurosh 501
Âtashkade-ye Âzar (Âzar) 365 Badi’ va Qâsem (Balkhi) 407
Âthâr va ehyâ (Rashid-al-Din Badi’-al-Jamâl 257
Fazl-Allâh) 259 Badi’-al-Molk, Mohammad-
Atsiz, Alâ’-al-Dowle 33, 255 Hoseyn Mirzâ 199–200
Attâr, Farid-al-Din 29, 69, 124 Badr Monir, Prince 436
Tadhkerat al-owliyâ 172, Badr-al-Din Yahyâ 36, 41
341–45, 348 Monsha’ât-e Badr-al-Din
Aurangzeb, Emperor 260, 321, 347 Yahyâ 41
Austen, J. L. 281 Badri 248
al-Avâmer al-’Alâ iye fı’l-omur Baghdad xxiii, xxiv, xxvi, 1, 10,
al-’Alâ iye (Ebn-Bibi) 299– 22, 177, 228, 261, 397,
300, 302 445–46, 473
Âvâz-e par-e jebra’il (Sohravardi) Baghdâdi, Ahmad b. Omar
159 Majd-al-Din 29
Avicenna see Ebn-Sinâ Baghdâdi, Bahâ’-al-Din Mohammad
Ayâdgâr-i Shahrihâ 244 b. Mo’ayyed 45, 52, 84, 86
Âyande 516 al-Tavassol elâ’l-tarassol 24–
Aynî, Sadriddîn (Sadr-al-Din 32, 69–70
Eyni) 326–27 Bahâ’-al-Din, Amir 36
Ayyâm-e mahbas (Dashti) 498, 506 Bahâ’i, Sheikh see Âmeli, Bahâ’-
Âzar, Loft-Ali Beyg, al-Din
Âtashkade-ye Âzar 365 Bahâr, Mehrdâd 389, 391
Azerbaijan 114, 123, 296–97, 312, Bahâr, Mohammad-Taqi Malek-al-
321, 326, 380, 417, 460–61, 477 Sho’arâ xxix, 16, 279, 281,
Azod-al-Dowle 101, 107, 109, 226 327, 486, 495, 515–16
527
PERSIAN PROSE
Sabk-shenâsi yâ târikh-e Banu’l-Zaki of Damascus 36

tatavvor-e nathr-e al-Bâqer, Imam Mohammad 422
Fârsi 279, 284–85 Barbarestân 416
Bahla Hendavi 56 Barid al-sa’âde (Malatyavi) 107,
Bahman 396, 399, 433 108
Bahman Mirzâ 472 Barkhwordâr b. Mahmud
Bahman-nâme 389, 432, 433 Torkemân Farâhi
Bahr al-favâ’ed 123 Mahbub al-qolub 463–65
Bahr al-navâder see Navâder Mahfel-ârâ 464
al-hekâyât va gharâyeb Ra’nâ va Zibâ 463–64
al-revâyât (Qazvini) Barkyâroq, Sultan 239
Bahr al-sa’âdat (Hâji Harâs) 471 Barqi, Abi-Abd-Allâh
Bahrain 185 Mohammad, Ketâb al-
Bahrâm Gur 306 tebyân 250
Bahrâm Shâh of Ghazna 100 Bashshâr b. Bord 8
Bahrâm Shah of Kashmir 416 Basra 446, 458
Bâkharzi see Nezâmi Bâkharzi, Bassus, Kassianus 258
Nezâm-al-Din Abd-al-Vâse’ Bayân al-eshân le-ahl al-erfân
Bakht Jamâl 402–3 (Alâ’-al-Dowle
Bakhtak 403 Semnâni) 180–81
Bakhtiyâr-nâme 112, 444 al-Bayân va’l-tabyin (Jâhez) 52
Baku 226 Bayâz-e Bidel 360
Bal’ami, Abu-Ali Mohammad, Bâyazid of Bastâm 341, 348–49
Tarjome-ye târikh-e Tabari Bâysonghor 65, 357–58
xxv, xxx, 16, 288–89, 293 Bâz-nâme (Nasavi) 243
Balkh 70, 225, 247, 316, 430 Bâzergân, Nasr 407
Balkhi, Abu Zeyd, Sovâr al- Behâzin (Mahmud
aqâlim 250–51 E’temâdzâde) 508
Balkhi, Abu-Shakur, Âfarin- Behmardi, Vahid 11–13
nâme 106 Behrangi, Samad, Afsâne-hâ-ye
Balkhi, Abu-Zeyd 245 Âzerbâyjân 477
Balkhi, Ahmad b. Sahl, Fazl Behruz 416–17
senâ’at al-ketâba 10 Behruz, Dhabih 510
Balkhi, Jalâl-al-Din (naqqâl) 407 Jijak Ali Shâh 510
Badi’ va Qâsem 407 Shab-e Ferdowsi 510
Balkhi, Soltân-Mohammad b. Beijing 308, 310
Darvish-Mohammad Beluhar va Budhâsaf 471
al-Mofti, Majma’ al- Beyhaqi, Abu’l-Fazl 21, 33–34
gharâyeb 224–25 Târikh-e Beyhaqi 16, 26,
Balyâni, Amin-al-Din 352 33–34, 281–82, 294–95,
Bânu Goshasp-nâme 433 298, 301, 310–11, 318, 327
528
Index
Beyhaqi, Khwâje Othman 33–34 Bostân al-qolub (Sohravardi) 159

Beyhaqi, Zahir-al-Din (Ebn Bot-khâne (Mâzandarâni) 360
Fondoq) 239 Boyce, Mary 103
Târikh-e Beyhaq 285 Boz-e zangule-pâ 475
Tatemme Sevân al-hekme 229, Bozorgmehr 105, 108, 403, 407
264 Piruzi-nâme (Zafar-nâme) 105
Bhagalpur 436 Brentjes, Sonja xiii–xiv, xxviii,
Bidar 275 217–73
Bidel of Dehli, Chahâr onsor 372 Britain 482, 495, 497, 514
Bighami, Mohammad 414–15 Browne, Edward Granville 280,
Bijapur 363 499, 515
Biruni, Abu-Reyhân 234, 241, Buf-e kur (Hedâyât) 507
245, 251, 309 Bukhara xxv, 72, 285, 320, 326,
al-Jamâhir al-javâher 240–42 367, 371, 457, 461
Geodesy 250 Bundahishn 244
Ketâb al-seydane 257 Bur-Hend Rumi 404–5
Ketâb al-tafhim li-avâ’el Burân 72
senâ’at al-tanjim 234, Burân-dokht (Rowshanak) 400–
236, 257, 262 402, 412
Bishkin b. Mohammad b. Buse-ye adhrâ (Reynolds) 501
Bishkin 461 Busse, Heribert 2
Bist bâb dar ma’refat-e taqvîm Bustân-e khiyâl (Ja’fari Hoseyni
(Tusi) 231 Ahmadâbâdi) 434–36
Bist bâb dar ostorlâb (Tusi) 231 Bustân-e Sa’di, (Sa’di) 98, 111–12,
Black, Deborah 9 124–25
Boghrâ Khân 48 Byzantium 247, 286, 288
Bohlul 458, 459
Bokhâri, Majd-al-Din 255 Cairo 303, 482, 515
Bokhâri, Mohammad, Favâ’ed-e Calcutta 515
khotut 277 Callisthenes 391
Bokhâri, Sharaf-al-Din Mas’udi Caspian Sea 249
see Marvazi, Sharaf-al-Din Caucasus 307–8, 482
Mas’udi Chahâr darvish 444
Bombay 436 Chahâr maqâle (Nezâmi Aruzi
Bonaparte, Napoleon 482 Samarqandi) 14, 48, 50,
Borhân-e qâte’ (Mohammad- 72–73, 116, 262, 295–96, 327,
Hoseyn Khalaf Tabrizi) 197 462
Borujerdi, Sheykh Mohammad Chahâr onsor (Bidel of Dehli) 372
Abdo 201 Chahârdah afsâne az afsâne-hâ-ye
Borzu-nâme 433 rustâ’i-ye Irân (Kuhi-
Bosnia 330 Kermâni) 476
529
PERSIAN PROSE
Chamedân (Alavi) 507 Dar pirâmun-e târikh-e Beyhaqi

Charand-parand (Dehkhodâ) 469, (Nafısi) 282
499, 505 Dar talâsh-e ma’âsh (Mas’ud) 504
Charles XII of Sweden 493 Dârâ Shokuh 347
Chateaubriand, François- Safınat al-owliyâ 348
Auguste-René de 506 Sakinat al-owliyâ 348
Chehel Majles (Alâ’-al-Dowle Dârâb I xxxi, 16, 109, 385, 393,
Semnâni) 183 395–402, 415–18
Chehel tuti 446–47 Dârâb II 109, 393, 399–400, 415
Chengis Khân 302, 309, 312, 326 Dârâb-nâme 413–14
Cheshm-hâyash (Alavi) 507 Dârâb-nâme (Tarsusi) 391, 393,
China 247, 307–8, 310, 326, 394, 395–402, 408, 412, 420
410–11, 418, 423–24 Dâri, Tamim 456
Chubak, Sâdeq 508 Dasâtir 196–97
Comte, Auguste 483, 496 Dashti, Ali 516
Constantinople 418 Ayyâm-e mahbas 498, 506
see also Istanbul Fetne 506
Croatia 407 Hendu 506
Cyrus the Great 501, 509 Jâdu 506
Dastân (Zâl) 109, 382, 416
Daftar-Khwân, Mahmud 384, 413, Dâstân-e Bâstân yâ Sargozasht-e
414 Kurosh (Badi) 501
Dalile-ye Mohtâle 445–46 Dâstân-e Mâni-ye naqqâsh 502
Dalle-ye Mohtâle 445–46 Dâstânhâ-ye amthâl (ed.
Dalle-ye Mokhtâr 445 Amini) 471
Dâmâdi, Mohammad 444 Dastur al-fosahâ’ (Fakhr-al-
Damascus 36, 417, 423, 440 Zamâni Qazvini) 405–6
Damâvand, Mount 500 Dastur al-kâteb fı ta’yin al-
Dânesh, Ahmad-Makhdum, marâteb (Nakhjavâni) 42–
Navâder al-vaqâye’ 326 50, 52, 54–56, 60–64, 80,
Dânesh-nâme-ye Alâ’i (Ebn- 82–83, 86
Sinâ) 154–58, 219, 223, 238 Dastur al-vezâre (Esfahâni) 124
Dânesh-nâme-ye Meysarî Dastur al-vozarâ
(Meysari) 218, 263 (Khwândamir) 76, 355
Dâneshkade (journal) 515–16 Dastur-e-dabiri (Meyhani) 17–20
Dâneshpazhuh, Mohammad- Davâni, Jalâl-al-Din, Akhlâq-e
Taqi 301 Jalâli 81, 83, 86, 134–136
Dâneshvar, Simin 508 de Bruijn, J. T. P. 15
Dâniyâl (Daniel, prophet) 402 Dehâti, M. see Mas’ud, Mohammad
Dar hekmat-e Soqrât ba qalam-e Dehestâni, Hoseyn b. As’ad, Faraj
Aflâtun (Forughi) 496 ba’d az sheddat 462–63, 465
530
Index
Dehkhodâ, Ali-Akbar 510, 513 Ebn-Abi’l-Hadid 52

Charand-parand 469, 499, 505 Ebn-al-Amid, Abu’l-Fazl 10, 12
Dehqâni, Behruz, Afsâne-hâ-ye Ebn-al-Arabi 36–37, 40, 42–43,
Âzerbâyjân 477 53, 63, 68, 82, 181, 184
Delhi 129, 461 al-Fotuhât al-Makkiye 37–39
Descartes, René, Discours de la Fosus al-hekam 44
Méthode 483, 495 Ebn-al-Athir, Ziyâ’-al-Din 52
Dhakhirat al-moluk (Hamadâni) al-Mathal al-sâ’er fı adab
129–30 al-kâteb va’l-shâ’er 13
Dhakhire-ye Khwârazmshâhi Ketâb al-kâmel fıl-ta’rikh 296
(Jorjâni) 254–56 Ebn-al-Balkhi, Fârs-nâme 246–
Dhekr-e qotb al-sâlekin 349 48, 250, 315
Dheyl-e Nafthat al-masdur Ebn-al-Beytâr 59
(Najm-al-Din Qomi) 301 Ketâb al-jâme’ le-mofradât
Dhokâ’-al-Molk I (Mohammad- al-adviye va’l-ajdiye 58
Hoseyn Forughi) 494, 496 Tafsir ketâb Deyusquridus 58
Dhu’l-Qarneyn 393 Ebn-al-Heytham 231
Dinâvari, Nasr b. Ya’qub 240 Ebn-al-Jowzi, Abu’l-Faraj Abd-
Dioscorides 243, 262 al-Rahmân 448
Ketâb al-hashâyesh 219, 258 Akhbâr al-zerâf va’l-
Discours de la Méthode motamâjenin 468
(Descartes) 483, 495 al-Qossâs va’l-modhakkerin
Dorrat al-akhbâr (Monshi 456–57
Yazdi) 264 Ebn-al-Moqaffa’, Abd-Allâh
Dorrat al-tâj (Shirâzi) 223–24 xxvi, 7, 63, 98, 100
Dorreh-ye nâdere (Mahdi al-Adab al-Kabîr xxvi, 7, 63
Khân) 323, 484, 490 Ebn-al-Mo’tazz, Abd-Allâh 12,
Doshmanzyâr (Doshman-Zayâr), 109
Abu-Ja’far 154, 219 Ketâb al-badi 8
Dowlatâbâdi, Yahyâ 516 Ebn-al-Nadim, Abu’l-Faraj 7,
Hayât-e Yahyâ 498 421, 459, 473
Shahrnâz 503 Fehrest 472
Dowlatshâh Samarqandi, Ebn-al-Zaki Motatabbeb Qonavi,
Tadhkerat al-sho’arâ 356– Abu Bakr 43, 86
59, 361 Rowzat al-kottâb va hadiqat
Dumas, Alexandre 494 al-albâb 35–42, 44, 46,
Dust Mohammad 277 50, 52, 69
Ebn-Bakhtishu, Manâfe al-
East India Company 482 hayavân 263
Ebn-Abd Rabbeh, al-Eqd al- Ebn-Bazzâz, Safvat al-safâ 352–
farid 467 53
531
PERSIAN PROSE
Ebn-Bibi, al-Avâmer al-’Alâ iye Ebrâhim Âdel-Shâh II 363

fı’l-omur al-’Alâ iye 299– Ebrâhim, Sultan 275
300, 302 Edrisi 252
Ebn-Elyâs 265 Egypt 133, 167, 252, 293, 392, 394,
Ebn-Faqih 245 400, 403–4, 416–17, 435, 445,
Ebn-Fondoq see Beyhaqi, Zahir- 473
al-Din Ehyâ’ olum al-din (Ghazâli) 57,
Ebn-Hosâm Khusfı,Mohammad, 120–21
Khâvar-nâme 390, 428–29 Ekhtiyârât-e Badi’i (Zeyn-al-
Ebn-Khorâdâdhbeh 245 Attâr) 257
Ketâb al-mamâlek va’l- Ekhtiyârât-e Mozaffari (Shirazi)
masâlek 250–51 230–31
Ebn-Monavvar, Asrâr al- Elâhi-nâme (Ansâri) see Monâjât-
towhid 348, 350–51 nâme
Ebn-Moqle 275–76 Elements (Euclid) 227–29
Ebn-Najib Bakrân, Mohammad, Elmi (journal) 514
Jahân-nâme 246, 248–51, 262 Emâd-al-Dowle II 199
Ebn-Roshd 9 Enjavi Shirâzi
Ebn-Sa’id Maghrebi 252 Gol be-senobar che mikard 477
Ebn-Sharif Hoseyni, Ali 258 Mardom va Ferdowsi 477
Ebn-Sinâ (Avicenna) 9, 30, 57–59, Mardom va Shâh-nâme 477
65, 105, 149, 154–55, 159, Qesse-hâ-ye Irâni 477
162, 186, 188–89, 198, 201, Sang-e sabur 477
217, 221, 234, 240, 477 Enteqâm (Khalili) 503
al-Eshârât va’l-tanbihât 78 al-Eqd al-farid (Ebn-Abd-
al-Najât 238 Rabbeh) 467
al-Qânun fı’l-tebb 78, 253–54 Erâqi, Bu’l-Hasan 34
al-Shefâ’ 78, 238–40, 243 Ershâd al-zerâ’e (Abu-Nasr
Andar dânesh-e rag (Resâle-ye Haravi) 66, 259–60
nabz) 154 Esfahâni, Ahmad b. Mohammad
Dânesh-nâme-ye Alâ’i 154–58, b. Yusof
219, 223, 238 Ketâb adab al-kottâb 10
Ketâb al-majmu’ ow al-hekme Tabaqât al-khotabâ 10
al-aruziyye fı ma’âni Esfahâni, Bâbâ-Shâh 277
ketâb Rituriqâ 59–60 Esfahâni, Emâd-al-Din 25
Ketâb al-najât 78 Esfahâni, Mahmud b. Moham
Orjuzâ fıl-tebb 263 mad, Dastur al-vezâre 124
Qorâze-ye tabi’iyyât 266 Esfahâni, Mirzâ Habib 494–95
Rag-shenâsi 219, 264 Esfahâni, Mohammad b. Sabz-Ali,
Ebn-Thâbet, Abu’l-Ghosn Dojeyn Vajizat al-tahrir 195
see Johâ Esfahâni, Mohammad Sâdeq 253
532
Index
Esfahâni, Mokhles 474 Ethbât-e vâjeb (Tabrizi) 189

Esfandiyâr 382, 398, 433 Ethé, Carl Hermann, Grundriss
Esfezâri, Abu-Hâtem 240 der Iranischen Philologie 279
Resâle-ye âthâr-e olvi 239 Euclid, Elements 227–29
Esfezâri, Mo’in-al-Din Eyn al-hekme (Râzi) 189
Mohammad Zamchi 24 Eyn-al-Hayât 385, 416–18
Resâle-ye qavânin 67–75 Eyn-al-Qozât Hamadâni 166, 177
Rowzat al-jannat fı owsâf Letters 178–80
madinat Harât 70 Shakvâ al-gharib 177
al-Eshârât va’l-tanbihât (Ebn- Tamhidât 177–78
Sinâ) 78 Zobdat al-haqâ’eq 177
Eshkevari, Mirzâ Hâshem 199 Ezz-al-Din Anar, Amir 21, 23
Eshq dar piri (Fekri Ershâd) 509 Ezz-al-Din Keykâ’us I b. Key
Eshq va saltanat yâ Fotuhât-e khosrow (Rum Saljuq
Kurosh-e kabir ruler) 107
(Hamadâni) 501 Ezz-al-Din Keykâ’us II 133
Eskâfı, Abu’l-Qâsem 48 Ezzi of Marv, Fotovvat-nâme 413
Eskandar-nâme 386–87, 389,
391–96, 408, 418, 432 Fakhr-al-Dowle 436–37
Eskandar-nâme (Nezâmi Ganjavi) Fakhr-al-Zamâni Qazvini,
390 Abd-al-Nabi
Eskander Beyg Monshi, Târikh-e Dastur al-fosahâ’ 405–6
âlamârâ-ye Abbâsi 331, 355 Tadhkere-ye meykhâne 370
Eskander-nâme-ye kabir 420 Tarâz al-akhbâr 406
Eskander-Soltân 232, 236 Fakhr-e Modabber see Mobârak
Esmâ’il b. Ahmad (Samanid shâh, Fakhr-al-Din
ruler) 109 Fakhri Haravi xxxi, 463
Esmâ’il, Kamâl-al-Din Haft keshvar 463
Esfahâni 362 Javâher al-ajâ’eb 369–70
Esmâ’il, Shah 259, 362, 368, 386, Latâyef-nâme 367
407, 463 Faqiri, Abol-Qâsem, Qesse-hâ-ye
Esmâ’ili, Hoseyn 447 mardom-e Fârs 477
Estakhr 417 Fârâbi, Abu-Nasr 9, 131–32, 217
Estakhri, Abu-Eshâq 245 Farâ’ed al-soluk fı fazâ’el al-
Masâlek ol-mamâlek 246 moluk (Sajâsi) 124
Estefân b. Basil 258 al-Faraj ba’d al-shedde va’l-ziqat
E’temâd-al-Saltane, Mohammad- (Madâ’eni) 462
Hasan Khan 493–94 Faraj ba’d az sheddat (Dehestâni)
Ruz-nâme-ye khâterât-e 462–63, 465
E’temâd-al-Saltane 498 Farâmarz b. Khodâdâd 408–9
E’temâdzâde, Mahmud see Behâzin Farâmarz-nâme 432–33
533
PERSIAN PROSE
Farangis (Nafısi) 505 Sirus-e kabir 509

Fâresi, Salmân 362 Fénelon, François, Sargozasht-e
Farghâna 65, 316 Telemak 501
Farhâd Mirza (Mo’tamad-al- Ferdowsi 1, 294, 309, 471, 477, 510
Dowle) 260 Shâh-nâme xxx, 84, 106, 108–9,
Farhang-e ajâyeb al-haqâyeq-e 250, 306, 311, 313–15, 317,
Owrangshâhi (Ja’fari) 260 384–87, 389–91, 396, 402,
Faridun 109 432–34, 463, 477
Fârmadhi, Abu-Ali 61–62 Fereydun 432
Farrokh-ruz 409–12 Fetne (Dashti) 506
Farrokhi Sistâni, Divân 445 Fi hâlat al-tofuliyye (Sohravardi)
Farrokhzâd 416, 418 159
Fârs 124, 247–48, 312, 408–9, 417, Fi haqiqat al-eshq (Sohravardi) 159
477 Firuzshâh xxxi, 385, 399, 413–19
Fârs-nâme (Ebn-al-Balkhi) 246– Firuzshâh-nâme 384–85, 387–88,
48, 250, 315 391, 413–19, 432
Fârsi shekar ast (Jamâlzâde) 510 Firuzshâh-nâme: donbâle-ye
Fâryâbi, Zahir-al-Din 445 Dârâb-nâme bar asâs-e
Fâryumadi, Ezz-al-Din Tâher 51 ravâyat-e Mohammad-e
Fâryumadi, Jâlal-al-Din Abu- Bighami 414
Yazid b. Vajih-al-Din Zangi Forughi, Mohammad-Ali
b. Tâher 50–52, 54 (Dhokâ’-al-Molk II) 476,
Fâryumadi, Vajih-al-Din Zangi 51 516
Fâteme 449 Dar hekmat-e Soqrât ba
Fath-Ali Shah 324–25, 481, 493 qalam-e Aflâtun 496
Fath-nâme (Joveyni) 21–22 Seyr-e hekmat dar Orupâ 496
Favâ’ed al-fo’âd (Nezâm-al-Din Forughi, Mohammad-Hoseyn
Owliyâ) 353 (Dhokâ’-al-Molk I) 494
Favâ’ed-e khotut (Bokhâri) 277 Fosus al-hekam (Ebn-al-Arabi) 44
Fazl b. Rabi’ 20 Fotovvat-nâme (Ezzi of Marv) 413
Fazl b. Sahl 48 Fotovvat-nâme-hâ 457–58
Fazl senâ’at al-ketâba (Balkhi) 10 Fotovvat-nâme-ye soltâni
Feghâni, Bâbâ 366 (Kâshefı) 86, 382–83,
Fehrest (Ebn-al-Nadim) 472 425–26, 468
Fekri Ershâd, Mortazâ-Qoli Khan al-Fotuhât al-Makkiye (Ebn-al-
Mo’ayyed-al-Mamâlek Arabi) 37–39
Eshq dar piri 509 Foucault, Michel 292
Hokkâm-e qadim va hokkâm-e Fouchécour, Charles-Henri de
jadid 509 110, 124
Sargozasht-e yek ruz-nâme- Fragner, Bert G. xiv–xv, xxix, 119,
negâr 509 279–338
534
Index
France 482, 485, 491, 494–95 Gheissari, Ali xv, xxviii, 146–216
Frederick II, Holy Roman Ghiyâth-al-Din Mohammad 43
Emperor 134 Gibbon, Edward 483
Fur (Indian ruler) 400 Gilâni, Mohammad b. Abi-Tâleb
see Hazin, Sheykh
Galen 253, 326 Gilânshâh 118
Ganj-nâme (Ansâri) see Kanz Gobineau, Comte de 483
al-sâlekin Goethe, Johann Wolfgang
Garrusi, Hasan-Ali-Khan Amir- von 506
Nezâm 482 Golbadan Begom, Homâyun-
Garshâsp 432 nâme 371
Garshâsp-nâme 389, 432 Golchin-Ma’âni, Ahmad,
Gâvân, Mahmud, Manâzer Kârvân-e Hend 369
al-enshâ’ 2 Golestân (Sa’di) 98, 111–12,
Gawaliyâri, Mohammad Ghowth 123–26, 135, 488, 495
434 Golestân-e honar (Qomi) 276,
Gelpke, Rudolf 441 278, 354
Genette, Gerard 4 Golhâ’i ke dar jahannam
Geodesy (Biruni) 250 miruyand (Mas’ud) 504
Geography (Ptolemy) 245 Golzâr-e safâ (Seyrafı) 274
Georgia 407 Gorgan 41, 118, 316
Geryân (Mohammad Hoseyn Gorgâni, Fakhr-al-Din, Vis o
Shahrâbi) 449 Râmin 390
Geyhân-shenâkht (Qattân Gorjâni, Esmâ’il see Jorjâni,
Marvazi) 229–30 Esmâ’il
Geykhatu Khân 310 Goshâyesh va rahâyesh (Nâser-e
Gharâyeb al-donyâ (Tusi) 242 Khosrow) 167–68
Ghazâli, Abu-Hâmed 62, 117, Gowhar-e morâd (Lâhiji) 188–89
120–22, 129, 133, 177 Great Introduction to Astrology
Ehyâ’ olum al-din 57, 120–21 (Abu Ma’shar Balkhi) 233,
Kimiyâ-ye sa’âdat 120–21, 123, 236
137 Greece 400–401, 403
Nasihat al-moluk 103, 121–22 Grundriss der Iranischen
Ghazâli, Ahmad xxviii, 166, 177 Philologie (Ethé) 279
Savâneh al-eshq 175–77 Gujarat 364, 434
Ghâzân Khân 263, 310, 313 Gully, Adrian 3, 7
Ghazna 21, 234, 263 Güyük Khan 307
Ghaznavi, Mohammad,
Maqâmât-e Zhende-Pil 351 Haarmann, Ulrich 291, 293
Ghaznavi, Mohammad b. Mas’ud Habib al-siyar (Khwândamir) 68,
235 319–20, 328, 465
535
PERSIAN PROSE
Habl-al-Matin 515 Hamadâni, Abu’l-Ma’âli Abd-

Hablerudi, Mohammad-Ali Allâh b. Abi Bakr
Jâme’ al-tamthil 470–71 Mohammad Miyâneji see
Majma’ al-amthâl 470 Eyn-al-Qozât Hamadâni
Hadâ’eq al-sehr fı daqâ’eq al-she’r Hamadâni, Ali, Dhakhirat
(Vatvât) 13–14, 30 al-moluk 129–30
Hadâ’eq al-vathâ’eq (Khwâri) 51– Hamadâni, Badi’-al-Zamân 11–13
52 Maqâmât 12
Hadâyeq al-siyar (Yahyâ b. Sâ’ed Hamadâni, Eyn-al-Qozât see
b. Ahmad) 127–28 Eyn-al-Qozât Hamadâni
Hadiqat al-haqiqe (Sanâ’i) 40 Hamadâni, Rahim Musâ’i (Mollâ
Hâ’eri, Mirza Hoseyn Khan Lâlezâr) 495
(Sadr-al-Ma’âli) 501 Hamadâni, Shaikh Musâ Nasri,
Hâfez, Shams-al-Din Mo Eshq va saltanat yâ Fotuhât-e
hammad 276, 390, 409, 471 Kurosh-e kabir 501
Hâfez Abru, Shehâb-al-Din, Hamadâni, Yusof 346
Joghrâfıyâ 246, 252–53, 317 Hâmed, Mowlâna (naqqâl) 407
Haft ensâf-e Hâtem 447 Hamid-al-Din Balkhi, Omar b.
Haft eqlim (Amin Ahmad Mahmud, Maqâmât-e
Râzi) 362, 364–65 Hamidi 70
Haft hesâr (Ansâri) 174 Hamze 385–87, 402–7
Haft keshvar (Fakhri Haravi) 463 Hamze-nâme 349, 385–87, 391,
Haft Lashkar 387, 433–34 394–95, 402–8
Haft Peykar (Nezâmi) 263 Handbuch der Orientalistik 284
Haft seyr-e Hâtem 447 Haravi, Mir-Ali (calligrapher) 277
Hâj Sayyâh, Mirzâ Mohammad- Hariri, Abu-Mohammad Qâsem b.
Ali Mahallâti, Khâterât 497 Ali, Maqâmât al-Hariri 64
Hâji Âqâ (Hedâyât) 507 Hârun-al-Rashid, Caliph 20,
Hâji Harâs (Tâj-al-Din Mo 445–46, 473
hammad Kâzaruni), Bahr Hasan b. Sahl 48, 72
al’sa’âdat 471 Hasan b. Solaymân (Tavğaç Kara
Hâji Riyâ’i Khân yâ Târtuf-e Buğra Khan) 115
sharqi (Mahmudi Kamâl-al- Hasan of Basra 457
Vezâre) 510 Hasanak 26, 295
Hajjâj b. Yusof 421, 443 Hâshem, Mohammad, Rostam
Hakim Mo’men Hoseyni, Tohfat at-tavârîkh 323–26, 328
al-mo’menin 257 Hâshem Ali-al-Rezâ 253
Hall-e moshkelât-e Mo’iniyye Hâtefı, Timur-nâme 317
(Tusi) 230–31, 261 Hâtem Asamm 468
Hallâj, Ebn-Mansur 177, 341 Hâtem Tâ’i (Hâtem b. Abd-Allâh
Hamadan 295 b. Sa’d) 458, 468
536
Index
Hayâkel al-nur (Sohravardi) 159 Hezâr afsân 472

Hayât-e Yahyâ (Dowlatâbâdi) 498 Hezâr o yek shab 472
Hazin, Sheykh, Târikh-e ahvâl bâ Hezâr ruz 474
tadhkere-ye khod 323 Hindustan 114
Hedâyat al-mota’allemîn fıl tebb see also India
(Akhaveyni of Bukhara) 218 Hippocrates 458
Hedâyat, Rezâ-Qoli Khân 319– Historians of the Middle East (ed.
20, 486 Lewis and Holt) 284
Majma’ al-fosahâ 372 History of Iranian Literature
Riyâz al-ârefın 372 (Rypka) 280
Hedâyât, Sâdeq 477, 502, 504, Hodgson, Marshall G. 283
506–7, 510, 512 Hodud al-âlam 218, 246–47, 315
Alaviye Khânom 507 Hojviri, Abu’l-Hasan Ali b.
Buf-e kur 507 Othmân xxviii, 166, 169
Hâji Âqâ 507 Kashf al-mahjub 30, 169–72,
Mathal-hâ-ye Fârsi 476 345
Mâziyâr 510 Hokkâm-e qadim va hokkâm-e
Owsâne 476 jadid (Fekri Ershâd) 509
Parvin dokhtar-e Sâsân 510 Holt, P. M. 284
Sag-e velgard 507 Homâ 396–97, 399, 472
Sâye rowshan 507 Homâ (Hejâzi) 505
Se qatre khun 507 Homâ’i, Jalâl-al-Din 498
Zende be gur 506–7 Homây 396, 423–24
Heinrichs, Wolfhart 10, 12 Homâyun, Emperor 223, 371
Hejaz 394, 400, 456 Homâyun-nâme (Golbadan
Hejâzi, Mohammad 505–6 Begom) 371
Homâ 505 Homâyunfarrokh, Rokn-al-
Parichehr 505 Din 79
Zibâ 505, 506 Honeyn b. Eshâq 258
Hekmat al-eshrâq (Sohravardi) Hormuz 404
79, 159 Horst, Heribert 2, 32
al-Hekme fı’l-ad’iye va’l-mow’eze Hoseyn, Khwâje Kamâl-al-Din 76
le’lomme (Khwâri) 51 Hoseyn b. Ali, Imam 423, 426–27,
Helyat al-mottaqin (Majlesi) 447, 450
192–93 Hoseyn-e Kord-e Shabestari 383,
Hendi, Tomtom 236–38 386–87, 429–31
Hendu (Dashti) 506 Hoseyn-nâme see Qesse-ye
Herat 70, 72, 75, 79, 173, 316, 319, Hoseyn-e Kord-e Shabestari
322, 330, 347, 366–67, 371 Hoseyn-Qoli Khân Shâmlu 463
Herenqâlis 398–99 Hoseynâ (Sabuhi) (dervish) 385
Heshâm, Caliph 7 Hoyeyy b. Akhtab 62
537
PERSIAN PROSE
Hulegu Khân 132, 228, 236, 242, Ja’far al-Sâdeq, Imam 62

261, 318 Ja’fari, Hedâyat-Allâh b. Mo
Humphreys, Stephen R., Islamic hammad Mohsen, Farhang-e
History: A Framework for ajâyeb al-haqâyeq-e
Inquiry 284 Owrangshâhi 260
Hushang Shah 101, 425, 432 Ja’fari Hoseyni Ahmadâbâdi, Mir
Hyderabad 430 Mohammad-Taqi (Khiyâl),
Bustân-e khiyâl 434–36
al-Ijâz va’l-e’ jâz (Tha’âlebi) Ja’fari-Qanavâti, Mohammad 443
62–63 Jahân, Shah of Khatâ 430
Il-Arslân 33 Jahân-nâme (Ebn-Najib Bakrân)
Il-Lamash, Atâbeg 21 246, 248–51, 262
Ildeguz 297–98 Jahânghir Shirâzi, Mirzâ 469, 515
Iltutmush, Shams-al-Din, Sultan Jahângir, Emperor 136, 365, 466
129, 237, 257 Jahângir-nâme 371, 432–33
Imani az botlân-e nafs dar panâh-e Jahângir-nâme (Jahângir) 371,
kherad (Kâshâni) 163 432–33
India xxiv, 114, 226–28, 237, 246, Jâhez, Abu Othmân Amr b. Bahr
260, 262, 265, 307–10, 317, 56, 381, 456
321, 323, 326, 329, 353, 359, Ketâb al-bayân va’l-tabyin 52
361, 364, 369, 371, 394, Mi’e kaleme 106–7
400–401, 405–6, 418, 425, Jâjarmi, Badr-al-Din, Mu’nes
430, 434, 436, 439, 444, 446, al-ahrâr 264
465, 470–73, 514 Jalâl-al-Din Mirzâ 490–93
Indus Valley 307 Nâme-ye khosrovân 491–92
Innocent IV, Pope 307 Jalili, Jahângir
Introduction à l’histoire de l’Orient Kârvân-e eshq 504
musulman (Sauvaget) 284 Man ham gerye kardam 504
Irâd (Âkhundzâde) 486–87 Jâm, Ahmad-e (Zhende-Pil) 351
Iraj-nâme (Takallof-khwân) 407 al-Jamâhir al-javâher (Biruni)
Isâ b. Musâ 63 240–42
Isfahan 154, 207, 248, 330, 362–63, Jamâl-al-Din b. Mahfuz 226
371, 421, 430, 477 Jamâli of Delhi 440
Islam, Riazul 2 Jamâlzâde, Mohammad Ali 507,
Islamic History: A Framework for 510, 513
Inquiry (Humphreys) 284 Fârsi shekar ast 510
Israel 310 Yeki bud yeki nabud 499, 504–5
Istanbul 482, 503, 514 Jâme’ al-hekâyât see Javâme’
see also Constantinople al-hekâyât (Owfı)
Jâme’ al-hekmateyn (Nâser-e
Jâdu (Dashti) 506 Khosrow) 169
538
Index
Jâme’ al-olum (Fakhr-al-Din Jili, Majd-al-Din 222

Râzi) 131, 221–23 Joghrâfıyâ (Hâfez Abru) 246,
Jâme’ al-shâhi (Sejzi) 233 252–53, 317
Jâme’ al-tamthil (Hablerudi) 470– Johâ (Jowhi) 458–59
71 Navâder Johâ 459
Jâme’ al-tavârikh (Rashid-al-Din Joneyd (Sufı scholar) 421
Fazl-Allâh) 310 Joneyd, Abu’l-Qâsem (in Abu-
al-Jâme’ le-mofradât al-adviye Moslem-nâme) 341
va’l-ajdiye (Ebn-al- Jong-e Sâ’eb 360
Beytâr) 58 Jorjâni, Abd-al-Qâher 13
Jâme’-e Abbâsi (Âmeli) 190–91, 193 Asrâr al-balâghe 12
Jâme’-e Mofıdi (Mohammad Mofıd al-Jorjâni, al-Sayyed al-Sharif 74–
Mostowfı Bâfqi) 317–18 75
Jâme’-e Mohammadi (Mohammad- Jorjâni, Esmâ’il 262
Ja’far Astarâbâdi) 193 Aghrâz al-tebiyye va’l-
Jâme’-e Nâseri (Shari’atmadâr mabâheth 255
Astarâbâdi) 193–94 Dhakhire-ye Khwârazmshâhi
Jâme’-e Soleymâni (Nezâm-al- 254–56
Din Musavi) 193 Khoffı-ye Alâ’i 255
Jâmi, Abd-al-Rahmân 70–71, 166, Joveyni, Alâ’-al-Din Atâ-Malek,
183–84, 353–54 Târikh-e jahân-goshây 25,
Lavâyeh 150, 183–85 300, 302, 308–10, 319, 326
Nafahât al-ons men hazarât Joveyni, Montajab-al-Din
al-qods xxxi, 30, 172, 184, Badi’ 25, 32, 86
345–47, 349 Fath-nâme 21–22
Jâmi, Pur-Bahā’ 51 Ketâb-e atabat al-katabe 20–24
Jamshid 16, 108, 432 Joveyni, Shams-al-Din 236
Jamshid Shah 417, 428 Jowhari, Mohammad Ebrâhim,
Jandaqi, Yaghmâ 490 Tufân ak-bokâ’ 448–49
Japan 483 Jowhariyye (Neyshâburi) 274
Javâher al-ajâ’eb (Haravi) 369–70 Juzjâni, Abu-Obeyd 155
Javâher-nâme-ye Nezâmi (Ney
shâburi) 241–42, 261–62 Kabul 450
Javâme’ al-hekâyât (Owfı) 457, Kadu matbakh-e qalandari
461–65, 473–74 (Khalkhâli) 468–69
Jâvedân kherad (Meskaveyh) 101 Kadu qelqele-zan 475
Jâvedân-nâme (Kâshâni) 163 Kâfı, Esmâ’il b. Abbâd 48
Jelve, Mirzâ Abu’l-Hasan 199 Kalile va Demne xxvi, 86, 100,
Jerusalem 401 108, 111–12, 294, 472, 488
Jibâve 400, 402 Kamâl-al-Dowle, Mohammad
Jijak Ali Shâh (Behruz) 510 Hasan 474
539
PERSIAN PROSE
al-Kâmel fıl-ta’rikh (Ebn-al- Rowzat al-shohadâ 426, 448,

Athir) 296 468
Kamshad, Hasan 514 Sav’e-ye Kâshefıyye 235
Kamuz 398 Kashf al-asrâr va oddat al-abrâr
Kant, Immanuel xv, 325, 483 (Meybodi) 174, 182
Kanz al-sâlekin (Ansâri) 174 Kashf al-mahjub (Hojviri) 30,
Karaji, Mohammad, Ketâb enbât 169–72, 345
al-miyâh al-khafıyye 260 Kashf al-mahjub (Sejzi) 169
Karakorum 307–9 Kashghar 115
Karbala 427, 447–50 Kâshi, Ghiyâth-al-Din Jamshid
Kârvân-e eshq (Jalili) 504 261, 264
Kârvân-e Hend (Golchin-Ma’âni) Zij-e Khâqâni/Zij-Ologh Beg
369 232, 261
Kashan 232 Kâshi, Jamshid 264
Kâshâni, Abu-Bakr Ali b. Kashmir 129, 369, 394, 416
Othmân 257 Kasravi, Ahmad 512, 516
Kâshâni, Abu’l Qâsem 240–41 Kastamonu 232
Arâyes al-javâher fı nafâyes Kathir, Khwâje 422
al-atâyeb 242 Katouzian, Homa 126
Kâshâni, Afzal-al-Din (Bâbâ Kavad I 244
Afzal) 154, 162–63, 167 Kavâkebi, Abd-al-Rahmân,
Imani az botlân-e nafs dar Tabâye al-estebdâd 206
panâh-e kherad 163 Kâvus 382
Jâvedân-nâme 163 Kayseri 126
Madârej al-kamâl 163 Kayumarth 432
Mosannafât 162–66 Kâzaruni, Abu-Eshâq 351–52
Resâle-ye toffâha (transl.) 163–66 Kâzemi, Mortazâ Moshfeq,
Sâz va pirâye-ye shâhân-e Tehrân-e makhuf 503
por-mâye 131–32 Kerad-nâme-ye jân-afruz
Yanbu’ al-hayât 163 (Mostowfı) 108
Kâshefı Sabzavâri, Hoseyn Kerman 248, 312
Vâ’ez 347 Kermân Shah 417
Akhlâq-e Mohseni 81, 86, Kermâni, Abd-al-Hoseyn Mirzâ
134–36 Âqâ Khan 197, 483, 487–88,
Anvâr-e Soheyli 86, 100 492, 495, 511–12, 514
Badâye’ al-afkâr 79, 86 Reyhân-e bustân-afruz 487, 512
Fotovvat-nâme-ye soltâni 86, Sad khetâbe 483
382–83, 425, 468 Se maktub 483, 488
Lavâyeh al-qamar 235 Kermâni, Âqâ Mirzâ Ebrâhim
Makhzan al-enshâ’ 76, 80–86 Zahir, Qesse-ye Vâmeq o
Resâle-ye Hâtamiyye 48 Adhrâ 441–42
540
Index
Kermânshâhi, Mirzâ Hasan 201 Ketâb al-senâ’ateyn: al-ketâbe

Ketâb adab al-kottâb va’l-she’r (Askari) 11
(Esfahâni) 10 Ketâb al-seydane (Biruni) 257
Ketâb ajâ’eb al-makhluqât fı Ketâb al-tafhim li-avâ’el senâ’at
gharâ’eb al-mowjudât al-tanjim (Biruni) 234, 236,
(Qazvini) 224, 250, 262 257, 262
Ketâb al-alfâz (Qodâma b. Ketâb al-tebyân (Barqi) 250
Ja’far) 9 Ketâb enbât al-miyâh al-khafıyye
Ketâb al-badi (Ebn-al-Mo’tazz) 8 (Karaji) 260
Ketâb al-bayân va’l-tabyin Ketâb sovar al-kavâkeb al-thâbete
(Jâhez) 52 (Sufı) 231, 261, 263
Ketâb al-dokkân (Kuhin-al-Attâr Ketâb taqvim al-boldân (Abu’l-
Esrâ’ili) 58 Fedâ’) 246
Ketâb al-hashâyesh (Dioscorides) Ketâb-ârâyi dar tamaddon-e
219, 258 Eslâmi (Mâyel-Haravi) 276
Ketâb al-hekme fı’l-ad’iye Ketâb-e Ahmad (Safıne-ye Tâlebi)
va’l-mow’eze le’lomme (Tâlebof) 500
(Khwâri) 51 Ketâb-e atabat al-katabe
Ketâb al-hey’ât (Ordi) 57 (Joveyni) 20–24
Ketâb al-jâme’ le-mofradât Ketâb-e nur al-olum 349
al-adviye va’l-ajdiye Ketâb-e sad meydân (Ansâri) 173
(Ebn-al-Beytâr) 58 Ketâ’i-nâme (Khetâ’i) 253
Ketâb al-kâmel fıl-ta’rikh (Ebn- Key Khosrow I 275
al-Athir) 296 Key Khosrow II 41
Ketâb al-kharâj va senâ’at al- Key Khosrow III, Giyâth-al-
ketâbe (Qodâma b. Ja’far) Din 36
8–9 Key-Kâvus b. Eskandar, Onsur-
Ketâb al-majmu’ ow al-hekme al-Ma’âli 117
al-aruziyye fı ma’âni ketâb Qâbus-nâme 73, 115, 118–19,
Rituriqâ (Ebn-Sinâ) 59–60 135, 262
Ketâb al-mamâlek va’l-masâlek Keydâvar 400, 401
(Ebn-Khorâdâhbeh) 250–51 Keykâvus 433
Ketâb al-mashâre’ va’l-motârahât Keyvân, Âzar 196
(Sohravardi) 159 Khabushân (Quchân) 464
Ketâb al-mo’ jam (Yâqut) 250 Khale suske 475
Ketâb al-najât (Ebn-Sinâ) 78 Khâled b. Barmak 63
Ketâb al-naqz (Qazvini Râzi) Khalidov, Anas 74
381–82 Khalil Shervâni, Jamâl, Nozhat
Ketâb al-nur men kalemât Abi al-majâles 360
Teyfur (Sahlaji) 349 Khalili, Abbâs
Ketâb al-oluf (Balkhi) 233 Asrâr-e shab 503
541
PERSIAN PROSE
Enteqâm 503 Kholâsat al-tavârikh (Qomi) 322

Ruzegâr-e siyâh 503 Khonji-Esfahâni, Fazl-Allâh b.
Khalkhâli, Adham Qoreyshi Ruzbehân, Mehmân-
Vâ’ez, Kadu matbakh-e nâme-ye Bokhârâ 320
qalandari 468–69 Khorasan 33–34, 51, 65, 77–78,
Khamse (Nezâmi) 516 101, 106, 120, 122, 276, 290,
Khânbâleq 308 312, 316–17, 330, 344, 349,
Khâqân Hasan Tekin 21 357, 362, 366–67, 409, 422,
Khâqâni, Hasan-Ali Monshi, 444, 460, 464
Akhlâq-e Hakimi 135–36 Khorshid Shah 385, 409–12
Khâqâni, Qâzi Nur-Allâh, Khorshid-e Tâj-bakhsh 436
Akhlâq-e Jahângiri 136 Khosravi, Mohammad-Bâqer
Khâqâni Shirvâni 123, 362 Mirzâ, Shams va toghrâ 501
Kharaqâni, Abu’l-Hasan 349–50 Khosrow I Anushervan 16, 101,
Khashshâb, Rezâ-al-Din 45 304–6, 405, 407
Khâss al-khâss (Tha’âlebi) 11 Khosrow II 244
Khatâ 430 Khosrow Dehlavi, Amir 444
Khâterât (Hâj Sayyâh) 497 Khosrow o Shirin (Nezâmi
Khâterât-e Âref-e Qazvini (Âref Ganjavi) 390
Qazvini) 498 Khuzestan 248
al-Khatib, Abu-Bakr 352 Khwadây-nâmag xxvi
Khatibi, Parviz 447, 475 Khwâf 77
Khâtuni, Abu Tâher, Manâqeb Khwafı, Abu’l-Qâsem Shehâb-al-
al-sho’arâ 359 Din Ahmad 76–80
Khâvar-nâme (Ebn-Hosâm Khwafı, Khwâje Nezâm-al-
Khusfı) 390, 428–29 Molk 76
Khaybar 62 Khwâju of Kerman 432
Khayyâm, Omar 239, 261 Khwândamir, Ghiyâth-al-Din
Nowruz-nâme 243, 264 Mohammad b. Homâm-al-
Khâzeni, Abd-al-Rahmân, Mizân Din 319, 322
al-hekme 239, 250 Dastur al-vozarâ 76, 355
Khetâ’i, Ali-Akbar, Ketâ’i- Habib al-siyar 68, 76, 319–20,
nâme 253 328, 465
Khezr 476 Khwânsâri, Ahmad Soheyli 276
Khoffı-ye Alâ’i (Jorjâni) 255 Khwânsâri, Âqâ Jamâl, Sharh-e
Khojandi 263 ghorar va dorar 192–93
Kholâsat al-ash’âr va zobdat Khwârazm 65, 222, 312, 316, 433
al-afkâr (Taqi-al-Din Khwârazmi, Abu-Bakr 44, 54
Kâshâni) 363–65 Mafâtih al-olum 13, 221
Kholâsat al-hesâb (Âmoli) 227 Khwârazmi, Mohammad b. Musâ
Kholâsat al-sho’arâ 360–61 245
542
Index
Khwâri, Hakim-al-Din Mo Latâyef-nâme (Haravi) 367

hammad b. Ali al-Nâmus Lavâme’ al-eshrâq fı makârem
71, 85–86 al-akhlâq (Davâni) see
Hadâ’eq al-vathâ’eq 51–52 Akhlâq-e Jalâli
Ketāb al-hekme fı’l-ad’iye Lavâyeh (Jâmi) 150, 183–85
va’l-mow’eze le’lomme 51 Lavâyeh (Nuri) 150
Rowzat al-motakallemin 51 Lavâyeh al-qamar (Kâshefı) 235
Tohfe-ye Jalâliyye 47–48, Leaman, Oliver 85
50–65, 69 Leblanc, Maurice 503
Kimiyâ-ye sa’âdat (Ghazâli) 120– Lesage, Alain-René 495
21, 123, 137 Letters (Eyn-al-Qozât Hamadâni)
Kohistan 262 178–80
Konya 36–37, 41, 133, 299 Levant 185
Korshid-chehr 418 Lewis, Bernard xxx, 284
Kratchkovsckiǐ, Ignati 252 Leyli o Majnun (Nezâmi Ganjavi)
Kufa 244, 458 390
Kuhi-Kermâni, Hoseyn, Liber de pomo (transl. Kâshâni)
Chahârdah afsâne az afsâne- 163–66
hâ-ye rustâ’i-ye Irân 476 Libya 247
Kuhin-al-Attâr Esrâ’ili, Dâvud b. Lobâb al-albâb (Owfı) 20, 359–60
Abi-Nasr, Ketâb al- Lobb-e hesâb (Monshi) 228–29
dokkân 58 Locke, John 483
Kurdistan 380 Loghat-e murân (Sohravardi) 159
Kush-nâme 432 London 497, 513
Kushân, Esmâ’il 475 Loqmân 105, 400, 458
Kutadgu bilig (Yusof Khâss Losensky, Paul xvi, xxx–xxxi,
Hâjeb) 115 339–78
Lowhi, Mir 423
Lâhiji, Abd-al-Razzâq Luther, Kenneth Allin 16–17, 23,
Gowhar-e morâd 188–89 282
Sarmâye-ye imâm 189
Lâhiji, Hazin Ma’âther al-Rahimi (Nahâvandi)
Tadhkerat al-mo’âserin 372 368–69
Târikh-e/Tadhkere-ye ahvâl Madâ’eni, Abu’l-Hasan Ali b.
371–72 Mohammad, al-Faraj ba’d
Lahore 136, 348, 436 al-shedde va’l-ziqat 462
Laknâd 398–99 Madârej al-kamâl (Kâshâni) 163
Lamartine, Alphonse de 506 Madâyen 403
Latâ’ef al-hekme (Ormavi) 128, Madelung, Wilferd 34
133 al-Madkhal elâ elm ahkâm
Latâ’ef al-tavâ’ef (Safı) 468 al-nojum (Qomi) 218
543
PERSIAN PROSE
Mafâtih al-arzâq (Nuri) 260 Majlesi, Mohammad-Bâqer,

Mafâtih al-olum (Khwârazmi) 13, Helyat al-mottaqin 192–93
221 Majma’ al-amthâl (Hablerudi) 470
Maghreb 250, 252, 400 Majma’ al-fosahâ (Hedâyat) 372
Mâh-e Nakhshab (Nafısi) 505 Majma’ al-gharâyeb (Balkhi)
Mah-Pari 385 224–25
Mahabbat-nâme (Ansâri) 174 Majma’-e divânegân (San’atizâde
Mahallati, Mirzâ Mohammad-Ali Kermâni) 503
(Hâj Sayyâh) Khâterât 497 al-Majmu’ ow al-hekme al-
Mahbub al-qolub (Barkhwordâr aruziyye fı ma’âni ketâb
Farâhi) 463–65 Rituriqâ (Ebn-Sinâ) 59–60
Mahd-al-Din Mohammad Khwafı Majusi, Ali Ebn-al-Abbâs 253
235 Makhzan al-adviye (Aqili
Mahdi Khân Khorâsâni) 258
Dorreh-ye nâdere 323, 484, 490 Makhzan al-enshâ’, (Kâshefı) 76,
Târikh-e jahân-goshây-e 80–86
Nâderi 323 Maktubât-e Kamâl-al-Dowle
Mahfel-ârâ (Barkhwordâr Farâhi) (Âkhundzâde) 483, 495
464 Malatyavi, Mohammad-e Ghâzi,
Mahjub, Mohammad-Ja’far 409, Barid al-sa’âde 107–8
438, 441 Malaysia 407
Mahmud II, Sultan 177 Malek, Sultan of Rum 441
Mahmud b. Mohammad, al-Malek al-Sâleh Najm-al-Din
Qavânin-e khotut 277 Ayyub 134
Mahmud b. Othmân 352 Malek Bahmân 418–19
Mahmud of Ghazna 73, 109, 118, Malek Jamshid (Naqib-al-
391, 402, 459 Mamâlek Shirâzi) 437
Mahmudi Kamâl-al-Vezâre, Mirzâ Mâlek-e Ashtar 428
Ahmad 509–10 Malekshâh 109, 119–20, 239, 261,
Hâji Riyâ’i Khân yâ Târtuf-e 296, 325, 437–38
sharqi 510 Malkom Khân Nâzem-al-Dowle,
Ostâd Noruz-e pine-duz 510 Mirzâ 197, 482–86, 488–89,
Majâles al-mo’menin (Shushtari) 496, 512–13, 515
355 Sayyâhi guyad 489, 497, 499
Majâles al-nafâ’es (Navâ’i) 67–68, al-Mamâlek va’l-masâlek (Ebn-
76, 366–68, 370 Khorâdâdhbeh) 250–51
Majd-al-Din Mohammad al-Ma’mun, Caliph 48, 56, 72, 101
Khwâfı 67 Man ham gerye kardam (Jalili) 504
Majdi, Majd-al-Din Mohammad Manâfe al-hayavân (Ebn-
Hoseyni, Zinat al- Bakhtishu) 263
majâles 465, 488 Manâfe’-e horriyat (Mill) 495
544
Index
Manâqeb al-ârefın (Aflâki) 353–54 Mardom va Shâh-nâme (Enjavi

Manâqeb al-sho’arâ (Khâtuni) 359 Shirâzi) 477
Manâzer al-enshâ’ (Gâvân) 2 Markaz-e farhang-e Irân 471
Manchuria 411 Marlow, Louise xvi, xxvii, 97–145
Mansha’ al-enshâ’ (Nezâmi Marv 21, 31, 255, 316, 422
Bâkharzi) 76–80 Marvân-e Hemâr 422
Mansur b. Mohammad b. Ahmad Marzbân 114–15
Shirâzi, Tashrih-e Mansuri Marzbân Shah 410
256 Marzbân-nâme, (Varâvini) 16, 59,
Mansur b. Nuh 288 114–15, 328
al-Mansur Davâniqi, Abu-Ja’far, Marzbâni, Abd-Allâh, Akhbâr
Caliph 421, 423 Abi-Moslem sâheb al-da’wa
Manuchehr b. Qarchqây- 421
Khân 464 Marzolph, Ulrich 395
Manuchehr Khân Hakim 394 Masâlek al-mohsenin (Tâlebof) 500
Manuchehri Dâmghâni, Ahmad b. Masâlek ol-mamâlek (Estakhri) 246
Qows 459 al-Mashâre’ va’l-motârahât
Maqâle-ye alefbâ-ye jadid (Sohravardi) 159
(Âkhundzâde) 488 Mashhad 21, 207
Maqâmât al-Hariri (Hariri) 64 Mashhadi, Soltân-Ali, Serât
Maqâmât (Hamadâni) 12 al-sodur 276
Maqâmât-e Hamidi (Hamid-al- Masih Tokme-band Tabrizi 429–30
Din Balkhi) 70 Masir-e Tâlebi fı belâd al-Afranji
Maqâmât-e Jâmi (Nezâmi (Abu-Tâleb Landani) 497
Bâkharzi) 354 Mas’ud Ghaznavi 34
Maqâmât-e Zhende-Pil Mas’ud, Mohammad
(Ghaznavi) 351 Ashraf-e makhluqât 504
Maqtal-e Ali (Abu Mekhnaf) 427 Dar talâsh-e ma’âsh 504
Maqtal-e Hoseyn (Abu Mekhnaf) Golhâ’i ke dar jahannam
427 miruyand 504
Marâghe 57, 222, 225, 231, 255, Mard-e emruz 504
261, 263, 265 Tafrihât-e shab 504
Marâghe’i, Zeyn-al-Âbedin 197, Mas’udi Bokhâri, Sharaf-al-Din 235
488, 512 Resâle-ye âthâr-e olvi 239
Siyâhat-nâme-ye Ebrâhim- al-Mathal al-sâ’er fı adab al-kâteb
Beyk 497, 499 va’l-shâ’er (Ziyâ’-al-Din
Marcus Aurelius 495 Ebn-al-Athir) 13
Mard-e emruz (Mas’ud) 504 Mathal-hâ-ye Fârsi (Hedâyât) 476
Mardân-dokht 402, 412 Mathnavi (Rumi) 39–40
Mardom va Ferdowsi (Enjavi Matlub koll tâleb men kalâm Ali b
Shirâzi) 477 Abi-Tâleb (Vatvât) 107
545
PERSIAN PROSE
Mâtoridi 104, 106 Mi’e kaleme (Jâhez) 106–7

Mâyel-Haravi, Najib 180 Mill, John Stuart 483, 495–96
Ketâb-ârâyi dar tamaddon-e mille et un jours, Les (Pétis de la
eslâmi 276 Croix) 474
Mâzandarân 21, 108, 380 Minorsky, Vladimir 276
Mâzandarâni, Mohammad Sufı, Minovi, Mojtabâ 294
Bot-khâne 360 Mirkhwând, Mohammad b.
Mazdak 304–5, 501 Khâwandshâh 318, 322–23
Mâziyâr (Hedâyât) 510 Rowzat al-safâ fı sirat al-anbiyâ
Mecca 226, 252, 403–4, 497 va’l-moluk va’l-kholafâ
Media 290, 312 319–20, 328, 465, 486
Medina 244 Mirzâ Rezâ Khân Afshâr
Meftâh al-mo’âmelât (Tabari) 229 Alefbâ-ye behruzi 196
Meftâh al-olum (Sakkâki) 12, 74 Parvaz-e negâresh-e Pârsi 196
Mehmân-nâme-ye Bokhârâ Mitchell, Colin xvi–xvii, xxvi–
(Khonji) 320 xxvii, 1–96
Mehrân b. Mansur 258 Miyân Mir 348
Mehrnegâr 385, 403–4 Mizân al-hekme (Khâzeni) 239,
Meisami, Julie Scott 16, 281–83, 250
291, 294 Mobârakshâh, Fakhr-al-Din,
Me’mâr b. al-Ash’ath 56 Âdab al-moluk va kefâyat
Merrikh (journal) 514 al-mamluk 128–30
Mersâd al-ebâd men al-mabda’ Mobârez-al-Din Mohammad b.
elâ’l-ma’âd (Râzi) 126–27, Mozaffar 257
129 Modarres Tehrâni, Âqa Ali 197
Meskaveyh, Abu-Ali 101 Badâye’ al-hekam 199–201
Tahdhib al-akhâq 131, 132 Modhakker-e ahbâb (Nesâri
Mesopotamia 312 Bokhâri) 367
Mesri, Ahmad b. Mohammad Mo’ezz-al-Din al-Qâ’em be
al-Nahhâs, Adab al-kottâb 10 amr-Allâh 435
Mesri, Dhu’l-Nun 342–43 al-Mo’ezz-al-din Allâh, Abu
Meybodi, Rashid-al-Din, Kashf Tamim Ma’add, Fatimid
al-asrâr va oddat al-abrâr Caliph 435
174, 182 Mohammad b. Arslân, Sultan 25
Meydâni-Nishâpuri, Ahmad b. Mohammad b. Hammuye 177
Mohammad 62 Mohammad b. Malekshâh 121
Meyhani, Mohammad b. Abd-al- Mohammad b. Sâm 241
Khâleq 86 Mohammad Hakim Mirzâ 135
Dastur-e-dabiri 17–20 Mohammad Jahân Pahlavân 298
Meysari, Hakim, Dânesh- Mohammad Karim Khân Qâjâr
nâme-ye Meysarî 218, 263 (translator) 474
546
Index
Mohammad Mofıd Mostowfı Monshi Yazdi, Nâser-al-Din,

Bâfqi, Jâme’e Mofıdi 317–18 Dorrat ak-akhbâr 264
Mohammad Shah Qajar 193, 485, al-Montahhal (Tha’âlebi) 11
514 Moqaddam, Hasan, Ja’ far Khân
Mohammad-Tâher Mirzâ 494 az farang âmade 510
Mohandes, Mirzâ Rezâ 493 al-Moqâvamât (Sohravardi) 159
Mohâzarât al-adabâ’ (Râgheb al-Moqtader, Caliph 226
Esfahâni) 467 al-Moqtafı, Caliph 33
Mohebb-Allâh, Amirzâde 275 Morier, James 494
Mohtadi, Fazl-Allâh (Sobhi) 476 Morshidabad 434
Afsâne-hâ 476 Mortazâ, Sayyed 63
Afsâne-hâ-ye bâstâni-ye Irân Mosâmarât al-akhbâr (Âqsarâ’i)
va Majâr 476 302
Afsâne-hâ-ye Bu-Ali Sinâ 476– Mosannafât (Alâ’-al-Dowle
77 Semnâni) 180–83
Afsâne-hâ-ye kohan 477 Mosannafât (Kâshâni) 162–66
Mohyi-al-Din Ebn-al-Zaki 36 Mosayyeb b. Najabe b. Rabi’e b.
Mo’in al-Din Shams 230, 261 Riyâh Fazari 427
Mo’ jam fı ma’âyer ash’âr al’-ajam Mosayyeb-nâme 427–29
(Shams-e Qeys Râzi) 14, 86 Moses 457
al-Mo’ jam (Yâqut) 250 Moshir-al-Dowle, Mirzâ Hoseyn
Mojmal al-tavârikh va’l-qesas Khan Sepahsâlâr 482
xxx, 285, 295, 327 Moshtâq, Hoseyn 407
Mokhtâr b. Abu-Obeyde 340, Sandali-nâme 407
426–27 al-Mostarshed, Caliph 22
Mokhtâr-nâme (Vâ’ez-e Heravi) al-Mosta’sem, Caliph 228
349, 426–27, 429 Mosta’semi, Yâqut 275
al-Moktafı, Caliph 109 Mostashâr-al-Dowle see Tabrizi,
Molière 495, 510 Mirzâ Yusof Khân
Molla Nasreddin 469 Mostowfı, Abd-Allâh, Sharh-e
Mollâ-bâshi (Abd-al-Latif Tasuji zendegâni-ye man yâ
Tabrizi) 472 Târikh-e ejtemâ’i va edâri-ye
Monâjât-nâme (Ansâri) 150, 172–73 dowre-ye Qâjâriye 498
Möngke Khan 242, 309, 312 Mostowfı, Abu’l-Fazl Yusof b. Ali
Mongolia 309 xxix
Monsha’ât-e Badr-al-Din Yahyâ Kerad-nâme-ye jân-afruz 108
(Badr-al-Din Yahyâ) 41 Mostowfı Qazvini, Hamd-Allâh
Monsha’ât-e Soleymâni 194–95 252, 311–15, 328
Monshi, Ali b. Yusof b. Ali, Nozhat al-qolub 243, 246,
Lobb-e hesâb 228–29 249–53, 313, 315, 465
Monshi, Nur-al-Din 45 Târikh-e gozide 355–56, 358
547
PERSIAN PROSE
Zafar-nâme 311, 313–15, 317–18 Nakhjavâni, Mohammad b.

Mowdud of Ghazna, Sultan 240 Hendushâh 24, 71, 86
Mow’eze-ye Jahângiri Dastur al-kâteb fı ta’yin
(Mohammad-Bâqer Najm- al-marâteb 42–50, 52,
al-Thâni) 136 54–56, 60–64, 80,
Mozaffar Shah of Azerbaijan (in 82–83, 86
Firuzshâh-nâme) 417 Nakhshabi, Abu-Torâb (Sufı
Mozaffar-al-Din Shah Qajar 474 saint) 457
Mu’nes al-ahrâr (Jâjarmi) 264 Nâme-hâ (Alavi) 507
Musavi, Nezâm-al-Din Ali, Nâme-ye khosrovân (Jalâl-al-Din
Jâme’-e Soleymâni 193 Mirzâ) 491–92
Musavi, Ostâd Sayyed Rezâ 63 Naqd al-she’r (Qodâma b. Ja’far) 9
Naqib-al-Mamâlek Shirâzi,
Nâder Shah 323 Mohammad-Ali
Nafahât al-ons men hazarât Amir Arsalân 386, 388–89, 434,
al-qods (Jâmi) xxxi, 30, 172, 436–39, 441
184, 345–47, 349 Malek Jamshid 437
Nafâyes al-fonun (Âmoli) 221, 223 Telesm-e Âsef va hamâm-e
Nafısi, Sa’id 506 bolur 437
Dar pirâmun-e târikh-e Narshakhi, Abu-Bakr Mohammad
Beyhaqi 282 b. Ja’far, Târikh-e
Eskandar-nâme (manuscript) Bokhârâ 285
389, 394–95, 408 Nasavi, Abu’-l-Hasan Ali b.
Farangis 505 Ahmad 234
Mâh-e Nakhshab 505 Bâz-nâme 243
Nime-râh-e behesht 505 Nasavi, Mohammad Khorandezi
Setâregân-e siyâh 505 Zeydari, Nafthat al-masdur
Nafthat al-masdur (Nasavi) 301 301
Nahâvandi, Abd-al-Bâqi, Nasâyeh (Ansâri) 174
Ma’âther al-Rahimi 368–69 Nâser-al-Din Abd-al-Rahim b.
Nâhid (Filqus’ daughter) 399 Abu-Mansur (Ismaili
Nâ’ini, Mohammad-Hoseyn, ruler) 110, 132
Tanbih al-omne va tanzih Nâser-al-Din Shah Qajar 193–94,
al-melle 204–6 198, 386, 436, 449, 472, 481,
Najaf 207 493, 496, 510
al-Najât (Ebn-Sinâ) 238 Nâser-e Khosrow 166, 362
Najm-al-Din (al-Kobrâ) 29 Goshâyesh va rahâyesh 167–68
Najm-al-Thâni, Mohammad- Jâme’ al-hekmateyn 169
Bâqer, Mow’eze-ye Safar-nâme 167, 249, 496
Jahângiri 136 Vajh-e din 169
Nakhjavâni, Akmal-al-Din 37 Zâd-al-mosâferin 168–69
548
Index
Nasihat al-moluk (Ghazâli) 103, Siyar al-moluk (Siyâsat-

121–22 nâme) 83, 115, 119–20,
Nasir-al-Din Mohtasham (Ismaili 122, 137, 303–5
ruler) 262 Nezâmi Aruzi Samarqandi,
Nasir-al-Din Tâher b. Fakhr-al- Abu’l-Hasan, Chahâr
Molk b. Nezâm-al-Molk 22 maqâle 14, 48, 50, 72–73,
Nasr, Seyyed Ali 510 116, 262, 295–96, 327, 462
Nasr b. Ahmad (Samanid ruler) 109 Nezâmi Bâkharzi, Nezâm-al-Din
Nasr-al-Din, Mollâ (Nasr-al-Din Abd-al-Vâse’ 68
Khwâja) 459 Mansha’ al-enshâ’ 76–80
Nasr-Allâh b. Mohammad Monshi, Maqâmât-e Jâmi 354
Kalile va Demne 100 Nezâmi Ganjavi 1, 69, 123, 300,
Nasr-e Sayyâr 422 471
Nasrâbâdi, Mohammad Tâher, Eskandar-nâme 390
Tadhkere-ye Nasrâbâdi 368, Haft Peykar 263
370, 385 Khamse 516
Nâteli, Abu-Abd-Allâh 219, 258 Khosrow o Shirin 390
Nathr al-nazm va hall al-eqd Leyli o Majnun 390
(Tha’âlebi) 11 Nezâmi, Hasan-e 79
Navâder al-hekâyât va gharâyeb Nime-râh-e behesht (Nafısi) 505
al-revâyât (Qazvini) 465–66 Nishâburi, Abu’l-Ma’âli 407
Navâder al-vaqâye’ (Dânesh) 326 Nishapur 316, 344, 350
Navâder Johâ (Johâ) 459 Noh Manzar (anon.) 263
Navâ’i, Mir Ali-Shir 319 Nojum al-olum 237
Majâles al-nafâ’es 67–68, 76, No’mân b. Mondher 109
366–68, 370 Nosrat-al-Din Ahmad 130
Nâzem-al-Olum, Ali Khan 501 Nowbahâr (newspaper) 515–16
Nehâyat al-edrâk fı derâyat Nowruz-nâme ([pseudo]-
al-aflâk (Shirâzi) 231–32 Khayyâm) 243, 264
Ne’mat-Allâh 275 Nozhat al-majâles (Khalil
Nesâri Bokhâri, Sayyed Hasan, Shervâni) 360
Modhakker-e ahbâb 367 Nozhat al-qolub (Mostowfı
Neyshâburi, Mohammad b. Qazvini) 243, 246, 249–53,
Abi’l-Barakât Jowhari 240 313, 315, 465
Javâher-nâme-ye Nezâmi 241– Nozhat-nâme-ye Alâ’i (Shah
42, 261–62 mardân b. Abi’l-Kheyr
Neyshâburi, Simi, Jowhariyye 274 Râzi) 219, 234
Nezâm-al-Din Owliyâ, Favâ’ed Nuh I b. Nasr (Samanid ruler) 113
al-fo’âd 353 Nuh II b. Mansur (Samanid ruler)
Nezâm-al-Molk 26, 31, 66, 117, 48, 72, 105, 211
119, 136, 314 Nur al-olum 349
549
PERSIAN PROSE
al-Nur men kalemât Abi Teyfur Owsâne (Hedâyât) 476

(Sahlaji) 349 Oyun al-akhbâr (Qoteybe) 61
Nuri, Abu’l-Hoseyn 457
Nuri, Mohammad Yusof, Mafâtih Pañcatantra 100
al-arzâq 260 Pand-nâme (Sebuktigin) 118
Nuri, Sheykh Fazl-Allâh, Pand-nâme-ye Mâtoridi 104, 106
Lavâyeh 150 Pand-nâme-ye qeysar-e Rum
Nushirvân 403, 404 (Marcus Aurelius) 495
see also Anushervan Panjâh o se nafar (Alavi) 507
Nushirvân-nâme 406 Parichehr (Hejâzi) 505
Pârsi, Manakji 492
Oljâytu 130, 242 Parsinejad, Iraj xvii, xxxii,
Olynthus 391 481–517
Oman 394, 398 Partovi-Âmoli, Mehdi 471
Omar, Caliph 121, 456 Partow-nâme (Sohravardi) 158–62
Omayye Zamri 403 Parvaz-e negâresh-e Pârsi (Mirzâ
One Thousand and One Rezâ Afshâr) 196
Nights 443, 445, 472–75 Parvin dokhtar-e Sâsân (Hedâyât)
Onsori 391, 442 510
Ordi, Mo’ayyad-al-Din, Ketâb Paul, Jürgen 3
al-hey’ât 57 Persepolis 101
Orjuzâ fıl-tebb (Ebn-Sinâ) 263 Peshawar 436
Ormavi, Serâj-al-Din, Latâ’ef Peter I the Great of Russia 493
al-hekme 128, 133 Pétis de la Croix, François, Les
Ostâd Noruz-e pine-duz mille et un jours 474
(Mahmudi Kamâl-al- Philip of Macedon 393, 399
Vezâre) 510 Pir Moh. b. Omar Sheykh Ebn-
Ostâji, Jamâl 457–58, 460 Timur 256
Osul va qavâ’ed-e khotut-e sette Pir Mohammad of Balkh 224
(Sabzavâri) 277 Piruzi-nâme (Zafar-nâme)
Otbi, Abu’l-Hasan 221 (ascribed to Bozorg
Othmân, Caliph 62, 456 mehr) 105
Ottoman Empire 482–83 Pirzâde, Hâjji, Safar-nâme 497
Oveys, Sheykh 43, 46, 48 Pistor-Hatam, Anja 283–84
Owfı, Sadid-al-Din Plato 59, 108–9, 131–32, 134, 400,
Mohammad 24, 461, 462 496
Javâme’ al-hekâyât 457, Poetics (Aristotle) 9, 467
461–65, 473–74 Poliakova, E. A. 309
Lobâb al-albâb 20, 358–60 Polo, Marco 308
Owhadi Balyâni, Arafât al-âsheqin Pratt, Mary Louise 281
va arasât al-ârefın 363–66 Proudhon, Pierre-Joseph 483
550
Index
pseudo-Ptolemy 236 Navâder al-hekâyât va

Ptolemy 109, 230–31, 233, 245, gharâyeb al-revâyât 465–
251, 400 66
Almagest 232, 262 Tarâz al-akhbâr 466
Geography 245 Tazkere-ye meykhâne 466
Punjab 307, 406 Qazvini, Ali Khan 407
Qazvini, Fazl-Allâh, Tohfe dar
Qâbus (character in Dârâb-nâme) akhlâq va siyâsat 130
412 Qazvini, Hakim-Shâh
Qâbus b. Vashmgir, Shams-al- Mohammad 367–68
Ma’âli 20, 107 Qazvini, Jalâl-al-Din, Talkhis
Qâbus-nâme (Key-Kâvus b. al-Meftâh 12
Eskandar) 73, 115, 118–19, Qazvini, Mohammad 424
135, 262 Qazvini, Zakariyâ’, Ajâyeb
al-Qâder-be’llâh, Caliph 73 al-makhluqât va gharâyeb
al-Qâ’em be-amr-Allâh, Abu’l- al-mowjudât 224, 250, 262
Qâsem Mohammad, Fatimid Qazvini Râzi, Abd-al-Jalil, Ketâb
Caliph 435 al-naqz 381–82
Qâ’em-maqâm Farâhani, Mirza Qerân Habashi (Qerân of
Abu’l-Qâsem 485 Abyssinia) 396, 423–24
Qahramân 396, 424–25 Qeritikâ (Âkhundzâde) 486
Qahramân-nâme (Tarsusi) 396, Qessat al-Amir Hamzat al-
421, 424–25 Bahlavân 405
Qalandar-nâme (Ansâri) 174 Qessat Firuzshâh b. al-Malek
Qalqashandi, Ahmad b. Ali 275 Zârâb 413
Qantarash, King of Oman 398 Qesse-hâ-ye Irâni (Enjavi Shirâzi)
Qânun (newspaper) 485, 513, 515 477
Qânun al-boldân (anon.) 252 Qesse-hâ-ye mardom (coll.
al-Qânun fı’l-tebb (Ebn-Sinâ) 78, Vakiliyân et. al.) 477
253–54 Qesse-hâ-ye mardom-e Fârs
Qa’qâ’ b. Amr Tamini 427 (Faqiri) 477
Qarache Dâghi, Mirzâ Qesse-khwân, Shâhnazar, Zobdat
Mohammad-Ja’far 508 al-romuz 407
Qattân Marvazi, Eyn-al-Zamân Qesse-ye Ahraf Khân va
Hasan b. Ali, Geyhân- sargozasht-e se darvish 444
shenâkht 229–30 Qesse-ye Amir Arsalân see Amir
Qavânin-e khotut (Mahmud b. Arsalân
Mohammad) 277 Qesse-ye chahâr darvish 444
Qazvin 459 Qesse-ye Dalile Mohtâle 445–46
Qazvini, Abd-al-Nabi Fakhr-al- Qesse-ye Firuzshâh 384–85,
Zamâni 387–88, 391, 413–19, 440
551
PERSIAN PROSE
Qesse-ye Hamze 349, 385–87, 391, Qomi, Qâzi Ahmad b. Sharaf-al-

394–95, 402–8 Din, Kholâsat al-tavârikh 322
Qesse-ye Hasan Kachal 475 Qomi, Qâzi Mir Ahmad Monshi,
Qesse-ye Hoseyn-e Kord-e Golestân-e honar 276, 278,
Shabestari 383, 386–87, 354
429–31, 434, 465 Qomshe’i, Âqâ Mohammad-Rezâ
Qesse-ye Mâh pishâni’ 475 199
Qesse-ye Mehr o Mâh 439–40 Qorâze-ye tabi’iyyât (Ebn-Sinâ)
Qesse-ye Nush-âfarin-e Gowhar- 266
tâj 440–41 Qosheyri, Abu’l-Qâsem 122,
Qesse-ye Qahramân-e Qâtel 350–51
(Tarsusi) see Qahramân- Resâle 345
nâme al-Qossâs va’l-modhakkerin
Qesse-ye Qerân-e Habashi (Ebn-al-Jowzi) 456–57
(Tarsusi) 396, 421, 423–24 Qotb-al-Din Mohammad 254–55
Qesse-ye Sayyid Joneyd 421, 443 Qotb-al-Din Shirâzi 37
Qesse-ye Shiruye 441 Qoteybe, Abu Abd-Allâh
Qesse-ye Soleymân (Tabrizi) Mohammad b. Moslem b.,
460–61 Oyun al-akhbâr 61
Qesse-ye Vâmeq o Adhrâ Qubilai Khan 308, 313
(Kermâni) 441–42 Quhestan 132
Qesse-ye Zamji-nâme 422 Quinn, Sholeh 322
Qezel Arslân 298, 325
Qobâd 402–3, 423–24 Rabâbi, Abu-Bakr (rebec player)
Qodâma b. Ja’far 8–9 459
Ketâb al-alfâz 9 Râbe’e of Basra 457
Ketâb al-kharâj va senâ’at Rabi’, Ali-nâme 402
al-ketâbe 8–9 Râduyâni, Mohammad b. Omar,
Naqd al-she’r 9 Tarjomân al-balâghe 13–14
Qohestâni, Abu-Bakr 73 Rafıqi-Haravi, Majnun, Âdâb
Qolizâde, Jalil Mohammad 469 al-mashq 277
Qom 207, 285 Rag-shenâsi (Ebn-Sinâ) 219, 264
Qomi, Abu-Nasr Hasan, al- Râgheb Esfahâni, Abu’l-Qâsem 457
Madkhal elâ elm ahkâm Mohâzarât al-adabâ’ 467
al-nojum 218 al-Rahabi, Mohammad b. Bahr 249
Qomi, Hasan b. Mohammad b. Râhat al-sodur (Râvandi) 274–75,
Hasan, Târikh-e Qom 285 296–300, 302, 310, 318, 325
Qomi, Mohammad Fâtemi 201 Ra’is-Firuz, Mehdi 447
Qomi, Najm-al-Din Abu’l-Rajâ’, Râmi, Mohammad 219, 258
Dheyl-e Nafthat al-masdur Ra’nâ va Zibâ (Barkhwordâr
301 Farâhi) 463–64
552
Index
Rasâ’el (Ekhvân al-Safâ) 153 Resâlat al-teyr (Sohravardi) 159

Rashahât-e eyn al-hayât (Safı) Resâle (Qosheyri) 345
347–48 Resâle dar hesâb 228
Râshedi, Hosâm-al-Din, Resâle dar jabr va moqâbele 228
Tadhkere-ye sho’arâ-ye Resâle elâ’ l-kottâb (Abd-al-
Kashmir 369 Hamid b. Yahyâ Kâteb) 7
Rashid-al-Din Fazl-Allâh Resâle-ye âthâr-e olvi (Esfezâri)
(Hamadâni) 43, 51, 264, 282, 239
308, 310, 318, 326–27 Resâle-ye âthâr-e olvi (Mas’udi
Âthâr va ehyâ 259 Bokhâri) 239
Jâme’ al-tavârikh 310 Resâle-ye del va jân (Ansâri) 174
Tansuq-nâme yâ tebb-e ahl-e Resâle-ye delgoshâ (Zâkâni) 467
Khetâ 255 Resâle-ye Hâtamiyye (Kâshefı
Târikh-e mobârak-e Ghâzân Sabzavâri) 48
Khân 310–11 Resâle-ye manâqeb-e Emâm
Rashide 421 Ahmad b. Hanbal
Râvandi, Mohammad b. Ali b. (Ansâri) 174
Soleymân, Râhat al-sodur Resâle-ye Mo’iniyye dar hay’e
274–75, 296–300, 302, 310, (Tusi) 230, 231, 261
318, 325 Resâle-ye qavânin (Esfezâri) 67–75
Rayhâni, Ali b. Obayda 99 Resâle-ye Sanjariyye (Sâvaji) 239
Rayy 34, 101, 126, 131 Resâle-ye toffâha (transl. Kâshâni)
Râzi, Abu-Bakr Mohammad b. 163–66
Zakariyâ (Rhazes) 253 Resâle-ye Vâredât (Ansâri) 174
Râzi, Abu’l-Fotuh, Tafsir 193 Reyhân-e bustân-afruz (Kermâni)
Râzi, Fakhr-al-Din Mohammad 487, 512
133, 262, 264 Reyhâne Bent-al-Hasan 234,
al-Serr al-maktum fı mokhâtebât 262–63
al-nojum 237–38 Reynolds, George W. M., Buse-ye
Jâme’ al-olum 131, 221–23 adhrâ 501
Râzi, Najm-al-Din Dâye 29, 129 Rezâ Shah 500, 507–10
Mersâd al-ebâd men al-mabda’ Rezavi, Ghiyâth-al-Din Mo
elâ’l-ma’âd 126–27 hammad 258
Râzi, Qavâm-al-Din Mohammad Rhetoric (Aristotle) 9, 59
189 Richard, Francis xvii, xxix, 274–78
Eyn al-hekme 189 Richards, I. A. 280
Ta’liqât 189–90 Rishe-hâ-ye târikhi-ye amsâl va
Râzi, Shams-al-Din Mohammad hekam (ed. Partovi-Âmoli)
b. Qeys, Mo’ jam fı ma’âyer 471
ash’âr al’-ajam 14, 86 Ritter, Hellmut 15
Reinert, Benedikt 15 Riyâhi, Mohammad-Amin 37, 41
553
PERSIAN PROSE
Riyâz al-abrâr (Rostamdâri) 223 Ruhi, Shaikh Ahmad 514

Riyâz al-ârefın (Rezâ-Qoli Khân Rum 36, 126, 275, 300, 399,
Hedâyat) 372 403–4, 406, 416–17, 437–38,
Riyâz al-sho’arâ (Vâleh 441, 444
Dâghestâni) 365 Rumi, Jalâl-al-Din 37, 39, 52,
Rob’-e Rashidi 255, 259 353–54, 471
Roemer, H. R. 3 Fihe mâ fıh 353
Rokn-al-Din Abu’l-Mozaffar Mathnavi 39–40
Kılıç Tamğâç Khâqân b. Rumlu, Hasan, Ahsan al-
Jâlal-al-Din 109, 112 tavârikh 331
Romuz-e Hamze 395, 406–7, 420 Russia 307, 313, 394, 482, 489
Rostam 109, 382, 396, 416, 432–34 Ruz-afzun 402
Rostam at-tavârîkh (Mohammad Ruz-nâme-ye khâterât-e
Hâshem) 323–26, 328 E’temâd-al-Saltane
Rostam-al-Hokamâ see Hâshem, (E’temâd-al-Saltane) 498
Mohammad Ruzbehân Baqli, Sheykh Abu
Rostam-nâme 432–34 Mohammad 275
Rostamdâri, Riyâz al-abrâr 223 Ruzegâr-e siyâh (Khalili) 503
Rousseau, Jean-Jacques 483, 500 Ruzi bâ jamâ’at-e sufıyân
Rowh al-arvâh (Sam’âni) 182–83 (Sohravardi) 159
Rowzat al-jannat fı owsâf Rypka, Jan 16, 30–31, 515
madinat Harât (Esfezâri) 70 History of Iranian Literature 280
Rowzat al-kottâb va hadiqat
al-albâb (Ebn-al-Zaki) 35– Sâbi, Abu-Eshâq 11, 12
42, 44, 46, 50, 52, 68 Sabk-shenâsi yâ târikh-e
Rowzat al-monajjemin tatavvor-e nathr-e Fârsi
(Shahmardân b. Abi’l-Kheyr (Bahâr) 279, 284–85
Râzi) 219, 234–35, 490 Sabuhi 385
Rowzat al-motakallemin (Khwâri) Sabzavar 357, 358
51 Sabzavâri, Fath-Allâh, Osul va
Rowzat al-safâ fı sirat al-anbiyâ qavâ’ed-e khotut-e sette 277
va’l-moluk va’l-kholafâ Sabzavâri, Hâjj Mollâ Hâdi 197, 201
(Mirkhwând) 319–20, 328, Asrâr al-hekam 198
465, 486 Sa’d b. Zangi 124
Rowzat al-shohadâ (Kâshefı Sa’d II b. Abu-Bakr 124–25
Sabzavâri) 426, 448, 468 Sad khetâbe (Kermâni) 483
Rowzat al-taslim (Tusi) 52 Sad meydân (Ansâri) 173
Roxburgh, David 4–5 Sa’d-e Vaqqâs 428
Rubanovich, Julia 4 Sad-kaleme (pseudo-Ptolemy) 236
Rudaki, Abu’l-Hasan 363–64 Sadaqe b. Abi’l Qâsem of
Rudgar, Qanbar-Ali 51–52 Shiraz 408–9
554
Index
Sa’di, Mosleh-al-Din 124–26, 390, Sakinat al-owliyâ (Dârâ Shokuh)

471 348
Bustân 98, 111–12, 124–25 Sakkâki, Abu-Ya’qub Yusof,
Golestân 98, 111–12, 123–26, Meftâh al-olum 12, 74
135, 488, 495 Saksena, Bhimsen, Târikh-e
Sadr-al-Din Qonavi 37 delgoshâ 321
Sadrâ, Mollâ (Sadr-al-Din Mo Saladin 25
hammad b. Ebrâhim Qavâm Sâlâr, Hosâm-al-Din 228
Shirâzi) 186, 197–201 Sâleh b. Jalâl 418
Se Asl 186–88 Salêh Shirâzi, Mirzâ Mohammad
Sâ’eb Tabrizi 390 514
Safâ, Dhabih-Allâh 26, 30, 413–15 Safar-nâme-ye Mirzâ Sâleh
Safar-nâme (Amin-al-Dowle) 497 Shirâzi 497
Safar-nâme (Nâser-e Khosrow) Salim-e Javâheri 443–44
167, 249, 496 Saljuq-nâme (Zahir-al-Din) 282
Safar-nâme (Pirzâde) 497 Salmân Fâresi 62
Safar-nâme-ye Abu Tâleb Landani Sâm 432
(Abu-Tâleb Landani) 497 Sâm Châresh, King of Egypt 396–
Safar-nâme-ye Mirzâ Sâleh 97
Shirâzi (Sâleh Shirâzi) 497 Sâm Mirzâ 322
Saffâh, Caliph 109, 423 Tohfe-ye Sâmi 367–68
Safı, Fakhr-al-Din Ali Sâm-nâme 432
Latâ’ef al-tavâ’ef 468 Samak-e ayyâr 381, 383, 385, 387,
Rashahât-e eyn al-hayât 347–48 391, 393, 402, 408–15, 424,
Safı-al-Din Eshâq Ardabili, 432, 440
Sheikh 352–53 Sam’âni, Ahmad, Rowh al-arvâh
Safına 360 182–83
Safınat al-owliyâ (Dârâ Shokuh) Samarqand xxiii, xxv, 21, 73, 108,
348 219, 225, 232, 258, 264–65
Safır-e Simorgh (Sohravardi) 159 Samarqandi, Mohammad Fâzel,
Safvat al-safâ (Ebn-Bazzâz) 352–53 Javaher al-olum-e
Sag-e velgard (Hedâyât) 507 Homâyuni 223
Sâheb b. Abbâd 12, 54 Sanâ’i 123
Sâheb-qerân-nâme 406 Sanâ’i Ghaznavi, Hadiqat al-
Sahl b. Hârun b. Râhaveyh 99 haqiqe 40
Sahlaji, Mohammad b. Ali, Ketâb San’atizâde Kermâni, Abd-al-
al-nur men kalemât Abi Hosayn
Teyfur 349 Dâm-gostarân yâ Enteqâm-
Sajâsi, Eshâq b. Ebrahim, Farâ’ed al- khwâhân-e Mazdak 501
soluk fı fazâ’el al-moluk 124 Majma’-e divânegân 503
Sajjâdi, Sayyed Ziyâ-al-Din 5 Sandali-nâme (Moshtâq) 407
555
PERSIAN PROSE
Sang-e sabur (Enjavi Shirâzi) 477 Tohfat al-mohebbin 275

Sâni, Najm-e 362 Serât al-sodur (Mashhadi) 276
Sanjar b. Malekshâh, Sultan 20–22, Serbia 407
24, 108–9, 239, 255, 296–97 al-Serr al-maktum fı mokhâtebât
Sarakhs 108 al-nojum (Râzi) 237–38
Sargozasht-e Telemak (Fénelon) 501 Setâregân-e siyâh (Nafısi) 505
Sargozasht-e yek ruz-nâme-negâr al-Settin al-jâme’ le-latâ’ef al-
(Fekri Ershâd) 509 basâtin (Ahmad b. Mo
Sarmâye-ye imâm (Lâhiji) 189 hammad b. Zeyd Tusi) 460
Sauvaget, Jean xxx Seyr-e hekmat dar Orupâ
Introduction à l’histoire de (Forughi) 496
l’Orient musulman 284 Seyrafı, Abd-Allâh, Golzâr-e
Sâvaji, Nezâm-al-Din 191 safâ 274
Sâvaji, Omar b. Sahlân, Resâle-ye Sezji Dehlavi, Amir-Hasan 353
Sanjariyye 239 Shab-e Ferdowsi (Behruz) 510
Sav’e-ye Kâshefıyye (Kâshefı) 235 Shâh Shojâ (Mozaffarid ruler) 257
Sâye rowshan (Hedâyât) 507 Shah-Malek 393
Sayyâhi guyad (Malkom Khân) Shâh-nâme (Ferdowsi) xxx, 84,
489, 497, 499 106, 108–9, 250, 306, 311,
Sâz va pirâye-ye shâhân-e por- 313–15, 317, 384–87, 389–91,
mâye (Afzal-al-Din 396, 402, 463, 477
Kâshâni) 131–32 tumârs (scrolls) 432–34
Se Asl (Mollâ Sadrâ) 186–88 Shahjahanabad 430, 434
Se maktub (Kermâni) 483, 488 Shahmardân b. Abi’l-Kheyr
Se qatre khun (Hedâyât) 507 Râzi 234–35
Sebuktigin, Pand-nâme 118 Nozhat-nâme-ye Alâ’i 219, 234
Sejzi, Abu-Ya’qub Eshâq b. Rowzat al-monajjemin 219,
Ahmad (Sejestâni), Kashf 234–35, 490
al-mahjub 169 Shahrâbi, Mohammad Hoseyn,
Sejzi, Ahmad b. Mohammad Tariq al-bokâ’ 449–50
Abd-al-Jalil, Jâme’e al- Shahrazâd 473
shâhi 233 Shahrestânîhâ î Êrânshahr 244
Selim, Sultan 367, 418 Shahrnâz (Dowlatâbâdi) 503
Semnâni, Ahmad b. Mohammad Shâhrokh 65, 75
see Alâ-al-Dowle Semnâni, Shakibi of Isfahan 364–65
Ahmad b. Mohammad Shakmun Khan 418
Sendbâd-nâme (Zahiri Shakvâ al-gharib (Eyn-al-Qozât
Samarqandi) 112–14, 444 Hamadâni) 177
Serâj-al-Dowle, Nawab of Shâmi, Nezam-al-Din, Zafar-
Bengal 434 nâme 317
Serâj-Shirâzi, Ya’qub b. Hasan 276 Shams va toghrâ (Khosravi) 501
556
Index
Shams-e Qeys see Râzi Siyâmak 432

Sharh-e ghorar va dorar Siyar al-moluk/Siyâsat-nâme
(Khwânsâri) 192–93 (Nezâm-al-Molk) 83, 115,
Sharh-e Meftâh al-olum 119–20, 122, 137, 303–5
(Taftâzâni) 12 So’âl-e del az jân (Ansâri) see
Sharh-e zendegâni-ye man yâ Resâle-ye del va jân
Târikh-e ejtemâ’i va Socrates 108, 458, 496
edâri-ye dowre-ye Qâjâriye Soghdiana 312, 316
(Mostowfı) 498 Sohbi see Mohtadi, Fazl-Allâh
Sharvin 114 Sohof-e Ebrâhim (Ali Ebrâhim
She’âr, Ja’far 402 Khân Khalil) 365–66
al-Shefâ’ (Ebn-Sinâ) 78, 238–40, Sohrâb 245, 382, 433
243 Sohravardi, Shehâb-al-Din 154,
Shekar-riz, Mollâ Ali (Jâmi 158–60, 167, 186, 222, 264
Shekar-riz) 406–7 al-Moqâvamât 159
Shesh-fasl (Mohammad b. Ayyub al-Talvilât 159
Tabari) 229 Aql-e sorkh 159
Shiraz 98, 108, 207, 223, 232, 260, Âvâz-e par-e jebra’il 159
276, 323–24, 328, 365, 408–9 Bostân al-qolub 159
Shirâzi, Abd-al-Aziz b. Yusof 12 Fi hâlat al-tofuliyye 159
Shirâzi, Qotb-al-Din Fi haqiqat al-eshq 159
Dorrat al-tâj 223–24 Hayâkel al-nur 159
Ekhtiyârât-e Mozaffari 230–31 Hekmat al-eshrâq 79, 159
Nehâyat al-edrâk fı derâyat Ketâb al-mashâre’ va’l-
al-aflâk 231–32 motârahât 159
Shiruye nâmdâr see Qesse-ye Loghat-e murân 159
Shiruye Partow-nâme 158–62
Shomâr-nâme (Mohammad b. Resâlat al-teyr 159
Ayyub Tabari) 229 Ruzi bâ jamâ’at-e sufıyân 159
Shuride, Mowlâna 407 Safır-e Simorgh 159
Shushtari, Nur-Allâh, Majâles Yazdân-shenâkht 159
al-mo’menin 355 Solami, Abu Abd-al-Rahmân,
Si afsâne az afsâne-hâ-ye mahalli-ye Tabaqât al-sufıyye 174, 184,
Esfahân (Amini) 477 344–46
Sinope 232 Solaymân/Solomon 109, 461
Sirus-e kabir (Fekri Ershâd) 509 Soleymân I, Shah 193
Sistân 285 Soltân Malek of Rum 441
Sivas 127 Soltân-Hoseyn 324
Siyâh-push, Mohammad 432 Soltân-Hoseyn Bâyqarâ 65, 67, 70,
Siyâhat-nâme-ye Ebrâhim-Beyk 75–79, 82, 134, 235, 319, 367,
(Marâghe’i) 497, 499 371
557
PERSIAN PROSE
Soltân-Khalil 134 Shesh-fasl 229

Soltâniyye 222 Shomâr-nâme 229
Sorur, Shah of Yemen 416–17 Tabâye al-estebdâd
Sorush Esfahâni 486 (Kavâkebi) 206
Sorush, Mirzâ Mohammad Tabriz xxiv, 255, 259, 413, 430, 472
Ali 472 Tabrizi, Abu Ya’qub b. Aki b.
Sovar al-aqâlim (Abu Zeyd Omar, Qesse-ye
Balkhi) 250–51 Soleymân 460–61
Sovar al-kavâkeb al-thâbete Tabrizi, Âqâ Mohammad-Tâher
(Sufı) 231, 261, 263 514
Sovar-e darajât-e Tangeloshâ Tabrizi, Mirzâ Rezâ 493
(Teucros) 237 Tabrizi, Mirzâ Yusof Khân 197,
Spinoza, Baruch 483 202–3
Spuler, Bertold xxix–xxx, 284, 291 Yak kaleme 202–4, 496
Stetkevych, Suzanne 6 Tabrizi, Mohammad-Hoseyn b.
Subtelny, Maria 66, 74–75, 86, Khalaf, Borhân-e qâte’ 197
134, 260 Tabrizi, Mollâ Rajab-Ali 189
Sufı, Abd-al-Rahmân, Ketâb Ethbât-e vâjeb 189
sovar al-kavâkeb al- Tadhkerat al-mo’âserin (Lâhiji)
thâbete 231, 262–63 372
Suli, Abu-Bakr Mohammad, Adab Tadhkerat al-nesâ (Âkhundzâde)
al-kottâb 10 370
Sur-e Esrâfıl (newspaper) 469, Tadhkerat al-owliyâ (Attâr) 172,
505, 515 341–45, 348
Switzerland 510 Tadhkerat al-sho’arâ (Dowlatshâh
Syria 286, 290, 293, 404, 417, 443 Samarqandi) 356–59, 361
al-Tadhkere fı elm al-hay’e (Tusi)
Tabaqât al-khotabâ (Esfahâni) 10 230, 265
Tabaqât al-sufıyye (Ansâri) 174, Tadhkere-ye meykhâne (Fakhr-al-
184, 346, 353 Zamâni Qazvini) 370
Tabaqât al-sufıyye (Solami) Tadhkere-ye Nasrâbâdi
344–46 (Nasrâbâdi) 368, 370, 385
Tabarestan 118 Tadhkere-ye sho’arâ-ye Kashmir
Tabari, Abu-Ja’far Mohammad b. (Aslah) 369
Jarir, Ta’rikh ar-rosol Tadhkere-ye sho’arâ-ye Kashmir
va’l-moluk xxv, xxx, 16, (Râshedi) 369
286–89, 293, 304, 318–19, 328 al-Tafhim li-avâ’el senâ’at al-
Tabari, Ehsân 502–3 tanjim (Biruni) 234, 236,
Tabari, Mohammad b. Ayyub 257, 262
A’mâl va alqâb 229 Tafrihât-e shab (Mas’ud) 504
Meftâh al-mo’âmelât 229 Tafsir (Abu’l-Fotuh Râzi) 193
558
Index
Tafsir ketâb Deyusquridus (Ebn- Tansuq-nâme yâ tebb-e ahl-e

al-Beytâr) 58 Khetâ (Rashid-al-Din
Tafsir-e qesse-ye Yusof see al- Fazl-Allâh) 255
Settin al-jâme’ le-latâ’ef Tanukhi, Qâzi Abu-Ali
al-basâtin (Ahmad b. Mohassen, al-Faraj ba’d
Mohammad b. Zeyd Tusi) al-shedde 462
Taftâzâni, Sa’d-al-Din Mas’ud b. Taqavi, Sayedd Nasr-Allâh (Sâdât
Omar b. Abd-Allâh 74–75 Akhavi) 201
Sharh-e Meftâh al-olum 12 Taqi-al-Din Kâshâni, Kholâsat
Taghmâj 393–94 al-ash’âr va zobdat al-
Tahdhib al-akhâq (Meskaveyh) afkâr 363–65
131–32 Taqvim al-boldân (Abu’l-Fedâ’)
Tâher b. Abd-Allâh, Khwâje 34 246
Tahmâsp, Shah 322, 355, 367, 386, Tarâz al-akhbâr (Fakhr-al-
465 Zamâni Qazvini) 406
Tahmurath Div-band 424, 432 Târikh al-vozarâ’ see Dheyl-e
Takallof-khwân, Zeyn-al- Nafthat al-masdur (Najm-
Âbedin 407 al-Din Qomi)
Iraj-nâme 407 Ta’rikh ar-rosol va’l-moluk
Tâlebof Tabrizi, Abd-al-Rahim (Ta’rikh al-Tabari) (Tabari)
197, 489, 491–93, 499, 512 xxv, xxx, 286–89, 293, 304,
Ketâb-e Ahmad (Safıne-ye 318–19, 328
Tâlebi) 500 Târikh-e ahvâl bâ tadhkere-ye
Masâlek al-mohsenin 500 khod (Hazin) 323
Ta’liqât (Qavâm-al-Din Râzi) Târikh-e âlamârâ-ye Abbâsi
189–90 (Eskander Beyg Monshi)
Talkhak (Talhak/Dalqak) 459 331, 355
Talkhis al-Meftâh (Jalâl-al-Din Târikh-e Beyhaq (Ebn-Fondoq)
Qazvini) 12 285
al-Talvilât (Sohravardi) 159 Târikh-e Beyhaqi (Abu’l-Fazl
Tamhidât (Eyn-al-Qozât Beyhaqi) 16, 26, 33–34,
Hamadâni) 177–78 281–82, 294–95, 298, 301,
Tamrusiye 398–99 310–11, 318, 327
Tamthil va mathal 471 Târikh-e Bokhârâ (Narshakhi)
Tamthilât (Âkhundzâde) 508–9 285
Tanbih al-omne va tanzih al- Târikh-e delgoshâ (Bhimsen
melle (Nâ’ini) 204–6 Saksena) 321
Tansar 100 Târikh-e gozide (Hamd-Allâh
Tansar-nâme 100 Mostowfı) 355–56, 358
Tansukh-nâme-ye Ilkhâni (Nasir- Târikh-e jahân-goshây (Joveyni)
al-Din Tusi) 242, 250 25, 300, 302, 308–10, 319, 326
559
PERSIAN PROSE
Târikh-e jahân-goshây-e Nâderi al-Tavassol elâ’l-tarassol (Bahâ’-

(Mahdi Khân) 323 al-Din Baghdâdi) 24–32,
Târikh-e mobârak-e Ghâzân 69–70
Khân (Rashid-al-Din Tavğaç Kara Buğra Khan (Hasan
Fazl-Allâh) 310–11 b. Solaymân) 115
Târikh-e mo’ jam 484 Tazkere-ye meykhâne (Abd-al-
Târikh-e Qom (Qomi) 285 Nabi Qazvini) 466
Târikh-e Sistân 285, 293, 295, 327 Tehran 207, 449, 472, 481–82, 515
Târikh-e Vassâf (Vassâf) 130, 311, Tehrâni, Âqâ Ali Modarres see
319, 323, 327–29, 484, 490 Modarres Tehrâni, Âqa Ali
Târikh-e/Tadhkere-ye ahvâl Tekesh 241, 261
(Lâhiji) 371–72 Telesm-e Âsef va hamâm-e bolur
Tariq al-bokâ’ (Shahrâbi) 449–50 (Naqib-al-Mamâlek
Tariq-e qesmat-e âb-e qolb Shirâzi) 437
(Abu-Nasr Haravi) 259 Teucros 236, 238
Tariqe-ye hokumat-e Zamân Sovar-e darajât-e Tangeloshâ
Khân Borujerdi va 237
sargozasht-e ân ayâm (Âqâ Tha’âlebi, Abu-Mansur Abd-al-
Tabrizi) 509 Malek b. Mohammad 115
Tarjomân al-balâghe (Râduyâni) al-Ijâz va’l-e’ jâz 62–63
13–14 al-Montahhal 11
Tarjome-ye tafsir-e Tabari 327 Khâss al-khâss 11
Tarjome-ye târikh-e Tabari Nathr al-nazm va hall al-eqd 11
(Bal’ami) xxv, xxx, 16, Thackston, Wheeler 5
288–89, 293 Thaqafı, Abi-Obeyd 426
Tarsus 401, 443 Thorayyâ (weekly journal) 515
Tarsusi, Abu-Tâher Tibet 247
Abu-Moselm-nâme 349, 386, Timur 65, 74, 256, 317, 325
396, 420–23 Timur-nâme (Hâtefı) 317
Dârâb-nâme 391, 393, 395– Toghrel I 107, 296–97
402, 408, 412, 420 Toghrel III 297–98
Qahramân-nâme 396, 421, Toghrol Shâh, King of Kashmir 475
424–25 Tohfat al-mohebbin (Serâj-Shirâzi)
Qesse-ye Qerân-e 275
Habashi 386, 421, 423–24 Tohfat al-mo’menin (Hakim
Tashrih-e Mansuri (Mansur b. Mo’men Hoseyni) 257
Mohammad b. Ahmad Tohfe dar akhlâq va siyâsat 130
Shirâzi) 256 Tohfe-ye Jalâliyye (Khwâri)
Tasuji Tabrizi, Abd-al-Latif 472 47–48, 50–65, 69
Tatemmat Sevân al-hekme Tohfe-ye Sâmi (Sâm Mirzâ) 367–68
(Ebn-Fondoq) 229, 264 Tonekâboni, Mirzâ Tâher 199
560
Index
Transoxania 33, 48, 101, 106, 277, Tuyserkâni, Esmâ’il Khan 492
307, 312, 316–17, 320
Trausch, Tilmann 322 Ulugh Beg 232, 261–62, 264
Tropics of Discourse: Essays in Utas, Bo xvii–xviii, xxi–xxxiii, 280
Cultural Criticism (Hayden Uzbek b. Nosrat-al-Din Pahlavân
White) 281–82 Mohammad 114, 123
Tufân ak-bokâ’ (Jowhari) 448–49 Uzun Hasan 134
Turân 406, 423
Turkestan 394 Vâ’ez, Mohammad b. Hasan b. Fazl
Tus 21, 120, 316 b. Hoseyn see Ostâji, Jamâl
Tusi, Âdhari, Gharâyeb al-donyâ Vâ’ez-e Heravi, Atâ b. Hosâm,
242 Mokhtâr-nâme 349, 426–27,
Tusi, Ahmad b. Mohammad b. 429
Zeyd, al-Settin al-jâme’ Vahb b. Monabbeh 395
le-latâ’ef al-basâtin (Tafsir-e Vahid Dastgerdi, Hasan 516
qesse-ye Yusof ) 460 Vahidzâde, Mahmud 516
Tusi, Nasir-al-Din 57, 65, 109–10, Vajh-e din (Nâser-e Khosrow) 169
227, 236, 240–41, 249, 261–64 Vajizat al-tahrir (Esfahâni) 195
Akhlâq-e Mohtashami 110 Vakiliyân, Ahmad 477
Akhlâq-e Nâseri 81, 83, 108–9, Vâleh Dâghestâni, Riyâz al-
130, 132–35, 137 sho’arâ 365–66
al-Tadhkere fı elm al-hay’e Valid b. Khâled of Egypt 417
230, 265 Van Gelder, G. J. H. 31
Bist bâb dar ma’refat-e taqvîm Varaq-pâre-hâ-ye zendân (Alavi)
231 507
Bist bâb dar ostorlâb 231 Varâvini, Sa’d-al-Din 24
Hall-e moshkelât-e Mo’iniyye Marzbân-nâme 59, 114–15, 328
230–31, 261 Varz-nâme 258
Resâle-ye Mo’iniyye dar hay’e Vâsefı, Zeyn-al-Din, Badâye’
230–31, 261 al-vaqâye’ 320, 326, 328, 371
Rowzat al-taslim 52 Vassâf al-Hazrat, Abd-Allâh b.
Tansukh-nâme-ye Ilkhâni 242, Fazl-Allâh 308
250 Târikh-e Vassâf 130, 311, 319,
Zij-e Ilkhâni 230–31, 246, 261 323, 327–29, 484, 490
Zobde-ye hay’e 230 Vatvât, Rashid-al-Din 17, 27, 45, 107
Tusi-Salmâni, Mohammad b. Arâ’es al-khavâter va nafâ’es
Mahmud b. Ahmad, Ajâyeb al-navâder 32–34
al-makhluqât va gharâyeb Hadâ’eq al-sehr fı daqâ’eq
al-mowjudât 224 al-she’r 13–14, 31
Tuti-nâme (Ziya’-al-Din Matlub koll tâleb men kalâm
Nakhshabi) 444, 446 Ali b. Abi-Tâleb 107
561
PERSIAN PROSE
Vesel, Ziva xviii–xix, xxviii, Zâd-al-mosâferin (Nâser-e

217–73 Khosrow) 168–69
Vis o Râmin (Gorgâni) 390 Zafar-nâme (Mostowfı) 311,
Voltaire 484, 493 313–15, 317–18
Zafar-nâme (Shâmi) 317
Waldman, Marilyn Robinson Zafar-nâme (Yazdi) 317
281–83, 291, 294 Zahhâk 392, 397, 432
White, Hayden, Tropics of Zahir-al-Din, Saljuq-nâme 282
Discourse: Essays in Cultural Zahiri-Samarqandi, Mohammad
Criticism 281–82 b. Ali
Aghrâz al-siyâse fı a’râz
Yahyâ b. Sâ’ed b. Ahmad, Nezâm- al-riyâse 109, 112–13
al-Din, Hadâyeq al-siyar Sendbâhd-nâme 112–14, 444
127–28 Zâkâni, Obeyd 324, 466–67
Yak kaleme (Tabrizi) 202–4, 496 Resâle-ye delgoshâ 467
Yanbu’ al-hayât (Kâshâni) 163 Zâl 109, 382, 416
Ya’qub b. Leyth 109 Zanklisâ 398–99
Yâqut, Ketâb al-mo’ jam 250 Zanzibar 400
Yatim-nâme see Qesse-ye Zende be gur (Hedâyât) 506–7
Hoseyn-e Kord-e Shabestari Zevaco, Michel 503
Yazd 330 Zeyn-al-Attâr, Ekhtiyârât-e
Yazdân-shenâkht (Sohravardi) 159 Badi’i 257
Yazdegerd III 306 Zibâ (Hejâzi) 505–6
Yazdi, Gowhar 492 Zij-e Ilkhâni (Tusi) 230–31, 246,
Yazdi, Sharaf-al-Din 79 261
Zafar-nâme 317 Zij-e Khâqâni (Kâshi) 232
Yazid b. Mo’aviye 447 Zij-e Ologh Beg (Kâshi) 232, 261
Yeki bud yeki nabud (Jamâlzâde) Zinat al-majâles (Majdi) 465, 488
499, 504–5 Zobdat al-haqâ’eq (Eyn-al-Qozât
Yemen 286, 288, 385, 394, 416, 441 Hamadâni) 177
Yunos b. Farve 63 Zobdat al-khiyâl 436
Yusof 109 Zobdat al-romuz (Qesse-khwân)
Yusof (Joseph) 457, 460 407
Yusof Khâss Hâjeb, Kutadgu Zobde-ye hay’e (Tusi) 230
bilig 115 Zohal, Gholâm-e Tashkent 226
Zowzani, Ahmad 33–34
Zâd al-ârefın (Ansâri) 174 Zowzani, Bu-Sahl-e 33–34
562

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Bo Utas (Editor) - Persian Prose - A History of Persian Literature, Vol V-I.B. Tauris (2021)

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A History of Persian Literature

I General Introduction to Persian Literature

INTRODUCTION (Bo Utas) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . xxi

CHAPTER 1: A MEDIEVAL NEXUS: LOCATING

Makhzan al-enshâ’ by Hoseyn Vâ’ez Kâshefi

CHAPTER 2: ADVICE LITERATURE (Louise Marlow) . . . 97

CHAPTER 3: RESÂLE, MAQÂLE, AND KETÂB:

Mohammad-Hoseyn Nâ’ini’s Tanbih al-omme

CHAPTER 4: SCIENCE IN PERSIAN (Ziva Vesel

CHAPTER 5: CALLIGRAPHY (Francis Richard) . . . . . . . 274

CHAPTER 6: CONSIDERATIONS ON LITERARY

1. Historiography, Narration, and Literature . . . . . . . . . . 279

CHAPTER 7: BIOGRAPHICAL WRITING: TADHKERE

CHAPTER 8: STORIES AND TALES: ENTERTAINMENT

Rostam-nâme and the Naqqâli Tumârs (Scrolls) of the

CHAPTER 9: POPULAR ANECDOTES AND SATIRE

CHAPTER 10: THE DEVELOPMENT OF MODERN

12. Literary Criticism . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 511

Mehran Afshari studied at Tehran University, and his M.A. thesis,

Sonja Brentjes is a researcher at the Max Planck Institute for the

the 1990s she has focused primarily on Islamicate societies in the

Bert G. Fragner studied Oriental and Islamic Studies at the universities

in der Geschichte Asiens (Berlin and Halle, 1999; a Persian translation,

Ali Gheissari is Professor of History at the University of San Diego.

Paul Losensky (Ph.D. University of Chicago, 1993) is Professor

Louise Marlow, Professor of Religion at Wellesley College, re-

Colin Mitchell is a specialist of medieval and early-modern Iran

Department of History at Dalhousie University in 2003. Since

Iraj Parsinejad studied at the University of Tehran, completing his

Francis Richard was keeper in charge of Persian manuscripts in

Bo Utas is Professor Emeritus of Iranian Studies at Uppsala Univer-

languages, especially varieties of Persian, and literary, religious,

Ziva Vesel graduated in Persian (second language Arabic) in 1974

Moyen Age (Turnhout 2009); “Les figures astrologiques dans les

This volume of A History of Persian Literature treats works written

1 See Bo Utas, “ ‘Genres’ in Persian Literature, 900–1900,” in Gunilla

fact, that by the 13th century almost 50 % of the vocabulary was of

exquisite bindings.2 From the 10th century onwards there must

daughters. This must have meant a considerable female participa-

As regards prose writing, the scribes or secretaries of the chan-

The development of epistolography, or enshâ’, is thus a central

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

Chapter 3 treats what may be called “expository and analytical

style characterizes much of this output, and in some instances the

4 See Najib Mâyel-Haravi, Ketâb-ârâyi dar tamaddon-e Eslâmi: majmu’e-ye

the manâqeb, words uttered or written and miracles performed by

told mainly as entertainment, they may also have elements of reli-

A MEDIEVAL NEXUS: LOCATING

Epistolography occupied a profound epistemological space during

2 Riazul Islam, A Calendar of Documents on Indo-Persian Relations (1500–

collections are modern, and while helpful, the specific documents

5 Jahângir Qâ’em-Maqâmi. ed., Yaksad va panjâh sanad‑e târikhi (Teh-

to date we have yet to produce any sustained treatments of Persian

12 Sayyed Ziyâ-al-Din Sajjâdi, Dibâche-negâri dar dah qarn: az qarn‑e cha­

1. Locating Enshâ’ in the Formative Islamic Period

What has been preserved of epistolographic writing from the pre-

14 Tahera Qutbuddin, “Khuṭba: The Evolution of Early Arabic Oration,” in

context, aesthetic choices, but rather requirements for successful

15 Suzanne P. Stetkevych, “From Jāhiliyyah to Badîʿ iyyah: Orality, Literacy,

of written text.20 There is no mistaking that the Arab privileging

the crystallization of an idea that epistolography was morphing

23 Gully, The Culture of Letter-Writing, pp. 11–12.

different with respect to tools of persuasion, were nonetheless

12 Sayyed Ziyâ-al-Din Sajjâdi, Dibâche-negâri dar dah qarn: az qarn‑e cha