Literary History of Persia
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| PART II.
PERSIAN VERSE DURING THE LAST FOUR CENTURIES
AND ESPECIALLY THE RELIGIOUS POETRY OF THE PERSIANS.
How to arrange these categories is a problem which has cost me a good deal of thought. Nearly all those who have written on Persian literature have paid an-amount of attention which I regard as excessive and disproportionate to poetry and belles-lettres, and have almost entirely ignored the plainer but more positive fields of history, biography, theology, philosophy and the ancient sciences. If we understand literature in the [page 162] narrower sense as denoting those writings only, whether poetry or prose, which have artistic form, there is, no doubt, some justification for this view; but not if we take it in the wider sense of the manifestation in writing of a nation’s mind and intellectual activities. Still, in deference to the prevalent view, we may begin this general survey of the recent literature of Persia with some consideration of its poetry. Here we have to distinguish some half-dozen categories of verse, namely (1) the classical poetry; (2) occasional or topical verse; (3) religious and devotional verse, from the formal marthiyas, or threnodies, of great poets like Muḥtasham of Káshán to the simple popular poems on the sufferings of the Imáms recited at the Ta‘ziyas, or mournings, of the month of Muḥarram; (4) the scanty but sometimes very spirited verses composed by the Bábís since about 1850, which should be regarded as a special subdivision of the class last mentioned; (5) the ballads or taṣnífs sung by professional minstrels, of which it is hard to trace the origin or antiquity; (6) the quite modern political verse which has arisen since the Revolution of 1906, and which I have already discussed in some detail in another work314. In this chapter I shall deal chiefly with the religious verse, leaving the consideration of the secular poetry to the two succeeding chapters. (1) The Classical Poetry.
Perhaps the statement with which the above paragraph opens is too sweeping and requires some qualification, for in some of the later Persian poets Indian and Turkish critics do profess to discover a certain originality (táza-gú’í) marking an epoch in the development of the art, and the rise of a new school. The Persians themselves are not addicted to literary criticism; perhaps because, just as people only discuss their health when they are beginning to lose it, so those only indulge in meticulous literary criticism who are no longer able, or have never been able, to produce good literature. According to Gibb318, Jámí and Mír ‘Alí Shír Nawá’í, ‘Urfí of Shíráz (d. 999/1590-1) and the Indian Fayḍí (Feyẓí, d. 1004/1595-6), and lastly Ṣá’ib of Iṣfahán (d. 1080/1669-70) were successively the chief foreign influences on the development of Ottoman Turkish poetry, and a great deal has been written about them by the Turkish critics. The best and fullest [page 164] critical estimate of the leading Persian poets from the earliest times down to the latter part of the seventeenth century is, however, so far as I can judge, a work written (most unfortunately) in the Urdú or Hindustání language, the Shi‘ru’l-‘Ajam (“Poetry of the Persians”) of that eminent scholar Shiblí Nu‘mání. The third volume of this work, composed in 1324-5/1906-7, deals with seven Persian poets of the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries of our era, namely Fighání (d. 925/1519), Fayḍí (d. 1004/1595-6), ‘Urfí (d. 999/1590-1), Naẓírí (d. 1021/1612-3), Ṭálib-i-Ámulí (d. 1036/1626-7), Ṣá’ib (d. 1080/1669-1670), and Abú’ Ṭálib Kalím (d. 1061/1651). All these were Persians, attracted to India by the liberal patronage of the Moghul Court, except Fayḍí whom Shiblí regards as the only Indian poet except Amír Khusraw who could produce Persian verse which might pass for that of a born Persian. ‘Urfí and Ṣá’ib were the most notable of these seven, but even they enjoy a greater repute in India and Turkey than in their own country319. The explanation of this fact offered by some Persians of my acquaintance is that they are easily understood and therefore popular with foreigners, who often find the more subtle poetry admired in Persia beyond their powers of comprehension. I must confess with shame that in this case my taste agrees with the foreigners, and that I find Ṣá’ib especially attractive, both on account of his simplicity of style and his skill in the figures entitled ḥusn-i-ta‘líl or “poetical aetiology,” and irsálu’l-mathal or “proverbial commission320.” Nearly forty years ago (in 1885) I read through the Persian portion of that volume of the great trilingual anthology entitled Kharábát321 which deals with the lyrical [page 165] verse of the Arabs, Turks and Persians, both odes and isolated verses, and copied into a note-book which now lies before me those which pleased me most, irrespective of authorship; and, though many of the 443 fragments and isolated verses which I selected are anonymous, more than one-tenth of the total (45) are by Ṣá’ib. India, at all events, thanks to the generous patronage of Humáyún, Akbar, and their successors down to that gloomy zealot Awrangzíb, and of their great nobles, such as Bayram Khán-Khánán and his son ‘Abdu’r-Raḥím, who succeeded to the title after his father’s assassination about A.D. 1561, continued during the greater part of the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries to attract a great number of the most talented Persian poets, who found there an appreciation which was withheld from them in their own country. Badá’úní322 enumerates about one hundred and seventy, most of whom were of Persian descent though some of them were born in India. Shiblí323 gives a list of fifty-one who came to India from Persia in Akbar’s time and were received at court, and a long list is also given by Sprenger324. Shiblí quotes numerous verses showing how widely diffused amongst Persian poets was the desire to try their fortune in India325. Thus Ṣá’ib says:
Even as the determination to visit India is in every heart.” [page 166] And Abú Ṭálib Kalím says: 
“I am the captive of India, and I regret this misplaced journey Whither can the feather-flutterings of the dying bird326 convey it ? Kalím goes lamenting to Persia [dragged thither] by the eagerness of his fellow-travellers, Like the camel-bell which traverses the stage on the feet of others. Through longing for India I turn my regretful eyes backwards in such fashion That, even if I set my face to the road, I do not see what confronts me.” So also ‘Alí-qulí Salím says: 
“There exist not in Persia the means of acquiring perfection: Henna does not develop its colour until it comes to India.” The Persian dervish-poet Rasmí, commemorating the Khán-Khánán’s liberal patronage of poets, says327: 
[page 167] 
“Through auspicious praise of thee the fame of the perfection of that subtle singer of Shíráz328 reached from the East to Rúm329. In praising thee he became conversant with a new style, like the fair face which gains adornment from the tire-woman. By the grace (fayḍ) of thy name Fayḍí, like [his predecessor] Khusraw330, annexed the Seven Climes from end to end with the Indian sword. By gathering crumbs from thy table Naẓírí the poet hath attained a rank such that other poets Compose such elegies in his praise that blood drips in envy from the heart of the singer. Men of discernment carry as a gift to Khurásán, like the collyrium of Iṣfahán, copies of Shakíbí’s verses. By praising thee Ḥayátí found fresh life (ḥayát): yea, the substance must needs strengthen the nature of the accident. [page 168] How can I tell the tale of Naw‘í and Kufwí, since by their praise of thee they will live until the Resurrection Dawn? Such measure of thy favour accrued to Naw‘í as Amír Mu‘izzí received from the favour of Sanjar.” These poets of the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries produced what the late Professor Ethé has happily termed the “Indian summer” of Persian poetry, and they had of course a host of Indian imitators and successors so long as Persian continued to be the polite language of India. These last, who were at best skilful manipulators of a foreign idiom, I do not propose to notice; and even of the genuine Persian poets, whether sojourners in India or residents in their own country, only a limited number of the most eminent can be discussed in these pages. The eighteenth century of our era, especially the troubled period intervening between the fall of the Ṣafawí and the rise of the Qájár dynasties (A.D. 1722-1795), was the poorest in literary achievement; after that there is a notable revival, and several poets of the nineteenth century, Qá’ání, Yaghmá, Furúghí and Wiṣál and his family, can challenge comparison with any save the very greatest of their predecessors. (2) Occasional or Topical Verse. Some of the most interesting pieces of poetry are those composed, not necessarily by professional poets, for some special purpose or some particular occasion. These are not so often to be found in the regular díwáns of verse as in the pages of contemporary histories. The following from the unpublished Aḥsanu’t-Tawáríkh may serve as specimens. In the year 961/1553-4 died three Indian kings, Maḥmúd III of Gujerát, Islám Sháh son of Shír Sháh the Afghán of Dihlí, and Niẓámu’l-Mulk of the Deccan. This coincidence, with the date, is commemorated in the following verses: [page 169] 
“In one year the [fatal] conjunction came to three princes by whose justice India was the Abode of Security. One was Maḥmúd331, the monarch of Gujerát, who was youthful as his own fortune. The second was Islám Sháh332, King of Dihlí, who was in India the lord of a fortunate conjunction. The third was the Niẓámu’l-Mulk333-i-Baḥrí, who ruled in royal state in the kingdom of the Deccan. Why dost thou ask of me the date of the death of these three Kings? It was ‘the decline of the kings’ ( The following verses by Mawláná Qásim commemorate the death of Humáyún in the succeeding year (962/1554-5): 
“Humáyún, king of the realm of the Ideal, none can recall a monarch like him: [page 170] Suddenly he fell from the roof of his palace; precious life departed from him on the winds. Qásim334 thus ciphered the date of his death: ‘King Humáyún fell from the roof’.” The next piece, denouncing the people of Qazwín, is by the poet Ḥayratí, who died from a fall at Káshán in 961/1553-4: 
[page 171] 
“The time has come when the pivotless sphere, like the earth, should rest under thy shadow, O Shadow of God! O King! It is a period of nine months that this helpless one hath remained in Qazwín ruined, weary, wounded and wretched. I found the practices of the Sunnís in humble and noble alike: I saw the signs of schism in small and great: Poor and rich with washed feet at the Tombs: hands clasped in the mosques to right and to left. In the time of a King like thee to clasp the hands in prayer is an underhand action, O King of lofty lineage! The judge of this Kingdom is of the race of Khálid ibnu’l-Walíd; the Muftí of this city is the son of the worthless Sa’íd. By the sword of the victorious King the brother, father, friend, kinsman and family of both have been slain together. Say thyself, O wise King, whether now this group are the propa- gandists of the enemy, or the clients of the victorious King. If there cannot be a public massacre one might [at least contrive] a private massacre for the special satisfaction of the Divine Majesty. These are not subjects whose slaughter would cause a reduction of the revenue or would check the spending power of the country; Nay, rather each one of them consumes a quantity of the wealth of the exchequer, for they are all fief-holders and pensioners.” The worst of these “occasional verses” is that we seldom know enough of the circumstances under which they were composed to enable us fully to understand all the allusions contained in them. What, for example, had the people of Qazwín done to the author of the above verses to arouse in him such bitter anger? Who were the Qáḍí and the Muftí whom he particularly denounces? How did their relatives come to be slain by the King, and of what enemy were they the propagandists? The fact that we do not know at [page 172] what date the verses were composed, and whether in the reign of Sháh Ṭahmásp or of his father and predecessor Sháh Isma‘íl, makes it harder to discover the answers to these questions, but it is interesting to learn how prevalent were the Sunní doctrines in Qazwín at the time when they were written. Of course in the case of the modern topical verses which abounded in the newspapers of the Revolutionary Period (A.D. 1906-1911 especially) the allusions can be much more easily understood. (3) Religious and Devotional Verse. Of the numerous poets of the Ṣafawí period who devoted their talents to the celebration of the virtues and sufferings of the Imáms, Muḥtasham of Káshán (died 996/1588) is the most eminent. In his youth he wrote erotic verse, but in later life he seems to have consecrated his genius almost entirely to the service of religion. Riḍá-qulí Khán in his Majma‘u’l-Fuṣaḥá (vol. ii, pp. 36-8) gives specimens of both styles, of which we are here concerned only with the second. The author of the Ta’ríkh-i-‘Álam-árá-yi-‘Abbásí335 in his account of the chief poets of Sháh Ṭahmásp’s reign states that though in earlier life that king enjoyed and cultivated the society of poets, in his later years his increasing austerity and deference to the views of the theologians led him to regard them with disfavour as latitudinarians (wasí‘u’l-mashrab), so that when Muḥtasham, hoping for a suitable reward, sent him two eloquent panegyrics, one in his praise and the other in praise of the Princess Parí-Khán Khánum, he received nothing, the Sháh remarking that poetry written in praise of kings and princes was sure to consist largely of lies and exaggerations, according to the [page 173] well-known Arabic saying, “The best poetry is that which contains most falsehoods,” but that, since it was impossible to exaggerate the virtues of the Prophet and the Imáms, the poet could safely exert his talents to the full, and in addition would have the satisfaction of looking for a heavenly instead of an earthly reward. Thereupon Muḥtasham composed his celebrated haft-band, or poem of seven-verse strophes, in praise of the Imáms, and this time was duly and amply rewarded, whereupon many other poets followed his example, so that in a comparatively short time some fifty or sixty such haft-bands were produced. This poem is cited in most of the anthologies which include Muḥtasham, but most fully in the Kharábát336 of Ḍiyá (Ẓiyá) Pasha (vol. ii, pp. 197-200). In this fullest form it comprises twelve strophes each consisting of seven verses, and each concluding with an additional verse in a different rhyme, thus comprising in all ninety-six verses. The language is extraordinarily simple and direct, devoid of those rhetorical artifices and verbal conceits which many Europeans find so irritating, and shows true pathos and religious feeling. I wish that space were available to quote the whole poem, the prototype of so many others of a similar character, but I must content myself with citing three of the twelve strophes (the fourth, fifth and sixth). 
[page 174] 
[page 175] 
“When they summoned mankind to the table of sorrow, they first issued the summons to the hierarchy of the Prophets. When it came to the turn of the Saints, Heaven trembled at the blow which they smote on the head of the Lion of God337. Then they kindled a fire from sparks of diamond-dust and cast it on Ḥasan338 the Chosen one. Then they tore up from Madína and pitched at Karbalá those pavilions to which even the angels were denied entrance. [page 176] Many tall palm-trees from the grove of the ‘Family of the Cloak339’ did the people of Kúfa fell in that plain with the axe of malice. Many a blow whereby the heart of Muṣṭafá [Muḥammad] was rent did they inflict on the thirsty throat of Murtaḍá ‘Alí’s successor340, While his women, with collars torn and hair unloosed, raised their laments to the Sanctuary of the Divine Majesty, And the Trusted Spirit [Gabriel] laid his head in shame on his knees, and the eye of the sun was darkened at the sight. When the blood of his thirsty throat fell on the ground, turmoil arose from the earth to the summit of God’s high Throne. The Temple of Faith came nigh to ruin through the many fractures inflicted on the Pillars of Religion. They cast to the ground his tall palm-tree341 even as the thorn-bush; a deluge arose from the dust of the earth to heaven. The breeze carried that dust to the Prophet’s Tomb: dust arose from Madína to the seventh heaven. When tidings of this reached Jesus dwelling in the heavenly sphere, he forthwith plunged his garments in indigo342 in the vat of heaven. Heaven was filled with murmuring when the turn to cry out passed from the Prophets to the presence of the Trusted Spirit. Mistaken imagination fancied that this dust343, had [even] reached the skirts of the Creator’s glory, For although the Essence of the All-glorious is exempt from vexation, He dwells in the heart, and no heart remains unvexed. I am afraid that when they record the punishment of his murderer, they may forthwith strike the pen through the Book of Mercy. I am afraid that the Intercessors on the Resurrection Day may be ashamed, by reason of this sin, to speak of the sins of mankind. When the People of the House shall lay hands on the People of Tyranny, the hand of God’s reproach shall come forth from its sleeve. Alas for the moment when the House of ‘Alí, with blood dripping from their winding-sheets, shall raise their standards from the dust like a flame of fire!
together their crimson shrouds on the Resurrection Plain! That company, whose ranks were broken by the strife of Karbalá, at the Resurrection in serried ranks will break the ranks of the uprisen. What hopes from the Lord of the Sanctuary344 can those worthless ones entertain who wounded with their swords the quarry345 of the Sanctuary? Then [finally] they raise on a spear-point that Head346 from whose locks Gabriel washes the dust with the water of Salsabíl347.” Whether or no this be accounted good poetry (and of course it loses much of its beauty in a bald prose translation encumbered with notes on expressions familiar to every Persian though strange to a foreigner and a non-Muslim) it at least reveals something of that deep emotion which the memory of the unforgettable tragedy of Karbalá never fails to arouse in the breast of even the least devout and serious-minded Persian. It has, like the poetry of Náṣir-i-Khusraw, who lived nearly five centuries before Muḥtasham, the great merit of sincerity, and consequently has a claim to be regarded as genuine poetry which we seek in vain in the elaborately artificial and rhetorical compositions of many Persian poets who enjoy in their own country a far higher reputation. One other marthiya, or elegy on the death of the Imám Ḥusayn, I cannot refrain from quoting, both on account of the originality of its form and the generally irreligious character of its author, the poet Qá’ání (died A.D. 1853), one of the greatest and the least moral of the modern poets of Persia. [page 178] The text is taken from a lithographed collection of such poems published, without title or indication of place or date, in Persia, containing 220 unnumbered pages, and comprising the work of six poets, namely Wiṣal, Wiqár, Muḥtasham, Qá’ání, Ṣabáḥi and Bídil. 
[page 179] 
[page 180] “What rains down? Blood! Who? The Eye! How? Day and Night! Why? From grief! What grief? The grief of the Monarch of Karbalá! What was his name? Ḥusayn! Of whose race? ‘Alí’s! Who was his mother? Fáṭima! Who was his grandsire? Muṣṭafá! How was it with him? He fell a martyr! Where? In the Plain of Máriya! When? On the tenth of Muḥarram! Secretly? No, in public! Was he slain by night? No, by day! At what time? At noontide! Was his head severed from the throat? No, from the nape of the neck! Was he slain unthirsting? No! Did none give him to drink? They did! Who? Shimr! From what source? From the source of Death! Was he an innocent martyr? Yes! Had he committed any fault? No! What was his work? Guidance! Who was his friend? God! Who wrought this wrong? Yazíd! Who is this Yazíd? One of the children of Hind! By whom? By bastard origin!348 Did he himself do this deed? No, he sent a letter! To whom? To the false son of Marjána! Was Ibn Ziyád the son of Marjána? Yes! Did he not withstand the words of-Yazíd? No! Did this wretch slay Ḥusayn with his own hand? No, he despatched an army to Karbalá! Who was the chief of the army? ‘Umar ibn Sa‘d! Did he cut down Fáṭima’s dear folk? No, shameless Shimr! Was not the dagger ashamed to cut his throat? It was! Why then did it do so? Destiny would not excuse it! Wherefore? In order that he might become an intercessor for mankind! What is the condition of his intercession? Lamentation and weeping! Were any of his sons also slain? Yes, two! Who else? Nine brothers! Who else? Kinsmen! Had he no other son? Yes, he had! Who was that?
Did he remain at his father’s Karbalá? No, he went to Syria! In glory and honour? No, in abasement and distress! Alone? No, with the women of the household I What were their names? Zaynab, Sakína, Fáṭima, and poor portionless Kulthúm! Had he garments on his body? Yea, the dust of the road! Had he a turban on his head? Yea, the staves of the wicked ones! Was he sick? Yes! What medicine had he? The tears of his eyes! What was his food after medicine? His food was heart’s blood! Did any bear him company? Yes, the fatherless children! Who else was there? The fever which never left him! What was left of the women’s ornaments? Two things, The collar of tyranny on their necks, and the anklet of grief on their feet! Would a pagan (gabr) practise such cruelty? No! A Magian or a Jew? No! A Hindoo? No! An idolater? No! Alas for this harshness! Is Qá’ání capable of such verses? Yes! What seeks he? Mercy! From whom? From God! When? In the ranks of recompense!”
Of those who make mourning for Ḥusayn and sit in assemblies in frenzied excitement. [page 185] All wear black for Fáṭima’s darling352, Establish houses of mourning and make lament for the King of Karbalá353. In every corner they prepare a feast and arrange a pleasant assembly; They carpet court-yard and chamber, they bedeck with inscriptions arch and alcove; They spread fair carpets, they set out graceful furnishings; A host of gluttonous men, all beside themselves and intoxicated with the cup of greed, On whom greed has produced such an effect that, like the stamp on the gold354, It has set its mark on their foreheads, make enquiry about such assemblies. One of them says, ‘O comrades, well-approved friends, versed in affairs, ‘I and Ḥájji ‘Abbás went yesterday to the entertainment of that green-grocer fellow. ‘In that modest entertainment there was nothing but tea and coffee, ‘And we saw no one there except the host and one or two rawẓa-khwáns355. ‘To sit in such an assembly is not meet, for without sugar and tea it has no charm. ‘God is not pleased with that servant in whose entertainment is neither sherbet nor sugar. ‘But, by Him who gives men and jinn their daily bread, in such- and-such a place is an entertainment worthy of kings, ‘A wonderfully pleasant and comfortable entertainment, which, I am sure, is devoid of hypocrisy. ‘There is white tea and sugar-loaf of Yazd in place of sugar, ‘And crystal qalyáns with flexible tubes, at the gargle of which the heart rejoices. ‘The fragrance of their tobacco spreads for miles, and the fire gleams on their heads like [the star] Canopus. ‘No water will be drunk there, but draughts of lemon, sugar and snow.
‘Another of them is the rhapsodist of Rasht, who is like a boat in the ocean of song. ‘From Kirmán, Yazd and Kirmánsháh, from Shíráz, Shúshtar and Iṣfahán, ‘All are skilled musicians of melodious and charming voices: they are like the kernel and others like the shell. ‘In truth it is a wonderful entertainment, devoid of hypocrisy: by your life it is right to attend it!’ When the friends hear this speech with one accord they assemble at that banquet.” On the whole, however, the emotion evoked by these Muḥarram mournings, whether dramatic representations or recitations, is deep and genuine, and even foreigners and non-Muslims confess themselves affected by them. “If the success of a drama,” says Sir Lewis Pelly in the Preface to his translation of thirty-seven scenes from the Ta‘ziyas356, “is to be measured by the effects which it produces upon the people for whom it is composed, or upon the audiences before whom it is represented, no play has ever surpassed the tragedy known in the Mussulman world as that of Ḥasan and Husain. Mr Matthew Arnold, in his ‘Essays on Criticism,’ elegantly sketches the story and effects of this ‘Persian Passion Play,’ while Macaulay’s Essay on Lord Clive has encircled the ‘Mystery’ with a halo of immortality.” Even the critical and sceptical Gibbon says357: “In a distant age and climate the tragic scene of the death of Hosein will awaken the sympathy of the coldest reader.” Sayyidu’sh-Shuhadá (“the Chief of the Martyrs”) the Persians call their favourite hero, who is, indeed, in their eyes more even than this, since his intercession will be accepted by God for his sinful followers even when the intercession of the [page 187] Prophet has failed. “Go thou,” says the latter to him on the Resurrection Day, “and deliver from the flames every one who has in his life-time shed but a single tear for thee, every one who has in any way helped thee, every one who has performed a pilgrimage to thy shrine, or mourned for thee, and every one who has written tragic verse for thee. Bear each and all with thee to Paradise358.” To the Persian Shí‘a, therefore, Ḥusayn occupies the same position that Jesus Christ does to the devout Christian, notwithstanding the fact that the doctrine of the Atonement is utterly foreign to the original spirit of Islám. To us no Persian verse could well appear more exaggerated in its deification of a human being than this359: 
Men say Thou art God, and I am moved to anger: raise the veil, and submit no longer to the shame of Godhead!” But I am not sure whether the following verse, ascribed to the Bábí poet Nabíl360, would not more greatly shock the Persian Shí‘a: 
“O witnesses of my aspect of fire, haste ye towards my home; Make head and life my offering, for I am the Monarch of Karbalá!” [page 188] It would be an interesting study, but beyond the capacity of this volume, to trace the growth of the Ḥusayn-Legend from its comparatively meagre historical basis, as given by Ṭabarí and the earlier Arab historians, to the elaborate romance into which it has finally developed in the ta‘ziyas and rawẓa-khwáns. But the romantic element appears early, even in the narrative of Abu’ Mikhnaf Lúṭ ibn Yaḥyá, who flourished in the first half of the second century of the hijra (circa A.D. 750)361, and it has even been suggested that Ḥusayn has been indued with the attributes of some far more ancient prototype like Adonis. At any rate no one at the present day can see anything more like the performances of the priests of Baal than the ghastly ceremonies of the ‘Áshúrá or Rúz-i-Qatl which take place on the tenth of Muḥarram (the anniversary of Ḥusayn’s death at Karbalá) wherever there is a considerable Persian colony, but especially, of course, in Persia itself. Certain episodes in the Ḥusayn-Legend would almost seem to indicate an unconscious sense of solidarity with the Christians on the part of the Shí‘a Persians arising from their participation in the doctrine of the Atonement. The best-known example of this is the conversion and martyrdom of the “Firangí ambassador” at the Court of Yazíd362, a very favourite scene in the ta‘ziyas, and considered especially appropriate when European visitors are included in the audience. Another instance occurs in the Asráru’sh-Shahádat, or “Mysteries of Martyrdom,” of Isma’íl Khán “Sarbáz363,” when Ibn Sa‘d invites certain Christians to aid [page 189] him in killing the Imám Ḥusayn, but when the eyes of their leader fell upon him — 
“He saw Karbalá as the Throne of Divine Majesty, he saw that Throne wet with God’s blood364; By the pen of imagination an impression grew in his heart, ‘Surely this is God in such glory and splendour! ‘If he be not God, then surely he is Jesus,, the Sun of the Throne of our Faith.’”
in the battle, and departed to offer his life as a sacrifice for Ḥusayn.” Since, however, we also find stories of the conversion of an Indian king (presumably a pagan) and even of a lion, the object may be to emphasize the cruelty and hard-heartedness of the professing Muslims who compassed the death of Ḥusayn and his fellow-martyrs by depicting the sympathy evoked by their sufferings even in the hearts of unbelievers and savage animals. The librettos giving the words actually spoken by the [page 190] actors in the ta‘ziyas are not often met with, though lithographed copies exist, of which, by the kindness of my friend the late George Grahame, formerly Consul in different parts of Persia, I possess half a dozen. As an example of their style I shall here cite a passage from the “Martyrdom of Ḥurr ibn Yazíd ar-Riyáḥí365,” wherein an Arab from Kúfa brings to the Imám Ḥusayn the news of the execution of his cousin Muslim ibn ‘Aqíl. 
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“How the Arab comes from Kúfa bringing news of the martyrdom of Muslim ibn ‘Aqíl. (Arab) ‘I whom thou seest coming with an hundred passionate strains Am the hoopoe coming from Sheba into the presence of Solomon. I come from Kúfa, having tidings of poor Muslim, I come enlarging the spirit like the morning breeze. In my head is a longing to meet the son of Fáṭima366, I come as the remedy for the pain of a wounded heart.’ (‘Abbás) ‘To this gate, of whose pavilion the dust is camphor And collyrium for the angels’ eyes, and its servants the Ḥúrís367. By God, this gate is the qibla368 of all faithful folk, And a house of healing to those stricken with sorrow!’ (Arab) ‘My salutation to thee, O exemplar of mankind; I come from Kúfa, O leader of the people of Paradise! For God’s sake whither goest thou, O my lord? Explain to me [I conjure thee] by the God of Jinn and men!’ (The Imám) ‘And on thee [be my salutation], O messenger of comely face! Even now I am going to Kúfa in an agitated condition. They have written to me letters of longing: Heaven draws my reins towards the land of ‘Iráq. Tell me, therefore, if thou hast news of Muslim: Has any one in Kúfa loyally aided him?’ [page 193] (Arab) ‘May I be thy sacrifice! Ask not of Muslim’s case! Come, master, let me kiss thy hands and feet! Go not to Kúfa, O King of the righteous! For I fear that thou may’st become sorrowful and friendless. Go not to Kúfa, O Lord! It were a pity! Be merciful! ‘Alí Akbar369 is so young! Go not to Kúfa! Zaynab370 will be humiliated, And will be led captive through the streets and markets!’ (Together) (Imám) ‘O Arab, make known Muslim’s condition!’ (Arab) ‘Lament for grief-stricken Muslim!’ (Imám) ‘Tell me, how fared it with Muslim in Kúfa?’ (Arab) ‘Know that Muslim’s fortune failed.’ (Imám) ‘Did the Kúfans drag his body through blood?’ (Arab) ‘They severed his innocent head from the kingdom of his body.’ (Imám) ‘Did they cut his body in pieces?’ (Arab) ‘They stuck his noble body on the headsman’s hook.’ (Imám) ‘Tell me, what further did these wicked people do?’ (Arab) ‘They dragged him through the city and market.’ (Imám) ‘Tell me, how fares it with Muslim’s children?’ (Arab) ‘They have become the guests of Muslim in Paradise.’ (Imám) ‘Who wrought cruelty and wrong on those children?’ (Arab) ‘Ḥárith severed their heads from their bodies.’ (Imám) ‘Alas for Muslim’s weeping eyes!’ (Arab) ‘These are the garments of Muslim’s children.’ (Both)371 ‘Alas that faithful Muslim has been slain by the cruelty of wicked men!’”
(4) Bábí Poetry. One of my young Persian friends who, like so many of the rising generation, deplores the influence of the mullás and rawẓa-khwáns and the religious atmosphere created by them, especially in connection with the Muḥarram celebrations, admitted to me that at least the work has been done so thoroughly that even the most ignorant women and illiterate peasants are perfectly familiar with all the details of these legends of martyrdom, however little they may know of the authentic history of the events portrayed or the persons represented. Even the greatest mujtahids, like Mullá Muḥammad Báqir-i-Majlisí, however little they might approve the exaggerations and even blasphemies which characterized the Passion Plays in their final popular developments, were at great pains to supply their compatriots with popular and easily [page 195] intelligible religious treatises in Persian, so that a knowledge of these matters might not be confined to Arabic scholars or professed theologians. One effect of the ta‘ziyas has been to create amongst the Persians a widely diffused enthusiasm for martyrdom, of which sufficient account is not taken by those who, misled by the one-sided portrait, or rather caricature, presented by Morier in his famous Hajji Baba, deem them an essentially timid and even cowardly folk. The English missionaries in Persia, who in sympathy for and understanding of the people amongst whom they work seem to me greatly superior to those whose labours lie in other fields, know better, and no one has done fuller justice to the courage and steadfastness of the Bábí and Bahá’í martyrs than the Reverend Napier Malcolm in his valuable book Five Years in a Persian Town (Yazd). Another told me an interesting story from his own experience in Iṣfahán. One of the chief mujtahids of that city had condemned some Bábís to death as apostates, and my informant, who was on friendly terms with this ecclesiastic, ventured to intercede for them. The mujtahid was at first inclined to take his intervention very ill, but finally the missionary said to him, “Do you suppose that the extraordinary progress made by this sect is due to the superiority of their doctrines? Is it not simply due to the indomitable courage of those whom you and your colleagues condemn to die for their faith? But for the cruel persecutions to which the Bábís have from the first been subjected, and which they have endured with such unflinching courage, would they now be more numerous or important than a hundred obscure heresies in Persia of which no one takes any notice and which are devoid of all significance? It is you and such as you who have made the Bábís so numerous and so formidable, for in place of each one whom you kill a [page 196] hundred converts arise.” The mujtahid reflected for a while and then replied, “You are right, and I will spare the lives of these people373.” Many of these martyrs died with verses of poetry on their lips. Sulaymán Khán, with wicks flaming in his mangled body, sang: 
“In one hand the wine-cup, in the other the tresses of the Friend, Such a dance in the midst of the market-place is my desire.” One of the “Seven Martyrs” exclaimed, when the headsman’s sword, missing its stroke, dashed his turban to the ground: 
“Happy that intoxicated lover who at the feet of the Friend Knows not whether it be head or turban which he casts.” Of the ancient Arabs Wilfrid Blunt well says374: “Their courage was of a different quality, perhaps, from that admired among ourselves. It was the valour of a nervous, excitable people who required encouragement from onlookers and from their own voices to do their best…,” and the same holds good to some extent of the Persians. Poetry is called “Lawful Magic” (Siḥr-i-Halál) because, in the words of the author of the Chahár Maqála375, it is “that art whereby the poet…can make a little thing appear great and a great thing small, or cause good to appear in the garb of evil and evil in the form of good…in such a way that by his suggestion [page 197] men’s temperaments become affected with depression or exaltation; whereby he conduces to the accomplishment of great things in the order of the world.” The Karbalá legend is a potent factor in producing in these martyrs the psychological state which makes them not only endure with fortitude but glory in their sufferings. In one of the two celebrated poems ascribed to the Bábí heroine Qurratu’l-‘Ayn376) who was one of the victims of the great persecution of August, 1852, occurs the verse377: 
“For me the love of that fair-faced Moon who, when the call of affliction came to him, Went down with exultation and laughter, crying, ‘I am the Martyr at Karbalá!’” In its original and primitive form Bábíism was Shí‘ism of the most exaggerated type, and the Báb himself the ‘Gate’ to the unseen Imám or Mahdí. Gradually he came to regard himself as actually the Imám; then he became the ‘Point’ (Nuqṭa), an actual Manifestation of the Supreme Being, and his chief disciples became re-incarnations, or rather “returns” or “recurrences” of the Imáms, and the whole tragedy of Karbalá was re-enacted “in a new horizon” at Shaykh Ṭabarsí in Mázandarán. The nineteen chapters constituting the first “Unity” (Wáḥid) of the Persian Bayán (the most intelligible and systematic of the Bib’s writings) are entirely devoted to the thesis that all the protagonists of the Islamic Cycle have returned378 in this cycle to the life of the world, [page 198] and Ḥájji Mírzá Jání, the earliest Bábí historian and himself a victim of the persecution of 1852, gives a long comparison between Karbalá and Shaykh Ṭabarsí, greatly in favour of the latter379. In the eleventh and last section of my Materials for the Study of the Bábí Religion (pp. 341-58) I published a selection of Bábí and Bahá’í poems, and here I will only add to these a qaṣída comprising 133 verses composed in the spring of 1885 by Mírzá’ Na‘ím380 of Si-dih near Iṣfahán, an ardent Bahá’í, whose son, as I lately heard from a friend in the British Legation at Ṭihrán, is still resident there. Mírzá Na‘ím sent me an autograph copy of this poem in the summer of 1902 through my late friend George Grahame, and in the concluding colophon he states that he was born at Si-dih in 1272/1855-6 and came to Ṭihrán in 1304/1886-7. The poem is so long that I originally intended only to give extracts from it, but, finding that this could not be done without injury to the sequence of ideas, I have decided to print it in full as a typical Bahá’í utterance having the authority of an autograph. 
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[page 209] “He is God, exalted is His State! “Through the revolution of the Sphere I have a heart and an eye, the one like the Tigris in flood, the other like a gulf of blood. Why should I not mourn heavily, and why should I not weep bitterly, since I cannot make my way out of the narrows of the world? Within the circle I find not my object; I have neither foot to fare forth nor place within. What profiteth me if I be as Qâren381 in rank? What gain to me if I be as Qárún382 in wealth? What fruit do farms and estates yield, since I must lay them aside? What effect have daughters and sons, since I must pass away? 5 What pride have I in drinking wine or rose-water? What virtue have I in wearing silk or black brocade383? Since dominion and wealth remain not, what difference between wealthy and poor? Since time endureth not, what difference between the glad and the sorrowful? I take pride in my understanding while every animal is full of it; I glory in spirit when every place overflows with it. What is it to me that I should say what Alexander did? What is it to me that I should know who Napoleon was? What affair is it of mine that the moon becomes crescent or full because it shows its face in proportion to the shining of the sun upon it? 10 What advantage is it that I should know about the eclipses of the sun and moon, or that the sun is darkened384 through the moon, and the moon through the shadow of the earth? What need is there for me to say that the fixed stars and planets are all suns and spheres in the vault of heaven?
revolving round suns, and are subject to two attractions? What affair is it of mine that the wind, that undulating air, is light and dry above, and dense and moist below? What have I to say to this, that the moon marches round the earth, the earth round the sun, and the sun in turn round another sun? 15 What should I say as to this ramal-metre being ‘sound’ or ‘apocopated,’ or this rajaz-metre maṭwí or makhbún385? Or of accidence, syntax, the letters, the correct and solemn intonation [of the Qur’án], or of the pauses of the Kúfans or the junctions of the Baṣra school386? Or of etymology, rhetoric, eloquence, style, expression, calligraphy, prosody or the varieties of poetical criticism? Or of biography387, jurisprudence, principles [of Law], controversy, deduction, tradition, proof, exegesis, the Code and the Law? Or of drawing, geometry, algebra, observations, chronology, arithmetic, mathematics and geography in all their aspects? 20 Or of Politics, the Religious Law, agriculture, mining, philology, National Rights, expenditure, taxation, loans and armies? Or of medicine, symptoms, anatomy, the pulse and the stools, the properties of all the drugs, whether simple or compound? Or of talismans, incantations, interpretation of dreams, alchemy, mechanics, astrology, ascendants, [magic] numbers, geomancy, cyphers and spells? Or of the philosophical sciences, and logic, ancient and modern, or of cautionary glosses and the sophistries of texts? O waste not the coin of your life on such sciences, for a whole world of men have suffered disappointment through such trans- actions! 25 Turn from these sciences to knowledge of the Religion of the Truth388, for, save knowledge of the Truth, all is deceit and vanity.
folly389; the themes of the materialist and the cynic are all ignorance and madness. Why dost thou consider the fancies of the naturalist as sciences? Why dost thou assume the Divine sciences to be mere fancies? What is the talk of these philosophers? All doubtful! What is the speech of these ignorant men? All conjecture! Their sciences are [designed] to dispose of modesty, sincerity and purity; their arts are for [the promotion of] sin, mischief, guile and wantonness! 30 Their whole [idea] is the socialization of the earth and the communizing390 of property; their whole [aim] is the diffusion of sin and the filling of their bellies! Their ideas are all short-sighted and their outlook narrow; their arts are all phantasy, and their conditions vile! Had it not been for the barrier of the Holy Law against this Gog391, no one would have been secure of honour, property, or life. By God’s Truth, the talk of this gang of materialists is the worst pestilence in the body of the Nation and the Kingdom! By the Divine Knowledge thou wilt become the choicest product of the two worlds; by the cynic’s philosophy thou wilt become the grandchild of an ape392! 35 Behold manifest today whatever the Prophet hath said, but whatever the philosopher hath said behold at this time discredited! All their sciences are [derived] from the Prophets, but imperfectly; all their arts are from the Saints, but garbled. But, regarded fairly, man in this world is distinguished by science and knowledge from all beside. [page 212] By knowledge and learning he finds his way to the Eternal Essence; by understanding and thought he attains to the Presence of the Why-less393. It is Study of which He says ‘It is the most excellent of actions’ it is Thought whereof an hour ‘is better than seventy [years].’ The great sages, such as Socrates, Hippocrates, Aristotle and Zeno, confess His Eternal Essence, 41 And so also Abú ‘Alí [Avicenna], Euclid, Ptolemy, Thales, Plato, Hermes and Solon394. These sanctify Him at dusk and at dawn; these glorify Him in the morning and in the evening. The world is a head wherein the sage is the intelligence; time is a body wherein the sciences are in place of the eyes. But thou ridest with a slack rein, and the steed of the arts is restive; thou art weak and inexperienced, and the dappled charger of the sciences is vicious. 45 Not having read a line thou hast doubts as to the Eternal Lord: wonderful the constitution in which antimony produces constipation! ‘Seek learning from the cradle to the grave, even in China395,’ from the knowledge of God, whereon trust and reliance may be placed. Sages are dumbfounded at His wise aphorisms; men of letters are indebted to His pregnant sayings. Natural laws are like bodies in manifestation and emergence; Divine Truths are like spirits in occultation and latency. In this illimitable expanse for lack of space illimitable worlds are buried in one another. 50 Common people see ordinary things, and distinguished people special things, according to their own measure: and He ‘knows best what they describe396.’ A thousand Platos cannot fathom the essence of His humblest temporal work; how much less His own Eternal Essence? The sphere and the stars move by the command of God: yea, the eyes and eyelids are affected by the soul.
By what, if not by the water, does the mill revolve? For once in the way of wisdom look with the eye of reflection on this abode whereof but one quarter is habitable397. 55 In each one of the mineral, vegetable and animal kingdoms are a thousand unseen worlds, manifest and hidden. Beyond thy intelligence is another over-ruling Intelligence; within thy soul is another soul concealed. Behold the grain, which stands shoulder to shoulder with past Eternity: behold the egg, which is conjoined with Eternity to come! Hidden yet manifest in this latter are a hundred worlds of fowls and chickens; eternal yet temporal in that former are a hundred groves of fruit and branches. How canst thou pass through the street of Truth, thou, who comest not forth from the mansion of Nature? 60, Even as thou seest how the flow of life from this world reaches the child’s inward parts through its mother’s aid, So, if aid come not from the Supernatural to this world, by God, this world will be ruined! For within the narrow straits of this world God hath worlds from the Supernatural beyond limit or computation. Contrary to universal custom, behold a group of intelligent men voluntarily and naturally plunging into blood398; Contrary to nature, a company content with pain and grief; contrary to nature, a party gladly enduring the cruelty of spite. 65 Behold a community renouncing the world by natural inclination; see a people contentedly suffering exile from their native land! Behold a party all slain eagerly and joyfully; behold a throng all imprisoned with alacrity and delight; A whole series [of victims] voluntarily enduring various torments; a whole class by natural inclination [involved] in afflictions of every kind; All intoxicated and singing songs399, but not from wine; all self- effaced and dissipated, but not from opium! [page 214] How hath Daniel given news of today! How hath the word of Isaiah taken effect now400! 70 How hath the promise of all the Scriptures been fulfilled, precisely in conformity with the Qur’án, the Pentateuch, the Books of the Prophets and the Gospels! Now in the Abode of Peace [Baghdád], now in Jerusalem, now in Mount Carmel, now in Edom, and now in Sion, The Holy and Fortunate Land hath been determined, the Blessed and Auspicious Day hath been fixed. ‘How came the Truth [God] to us? Even as our Arabian Prophet and our guides the Imáms indicated to us401. How according to promise did the Eternal Beauty402 reveal His beauty, from whose Blessed Beauty the whole world augured well? 75
How did God become apparent in the Valley of ‘the Fig’? How did He become visible in the Mount of ‘the Olive403’? How does He conquer without an army while all [others] are conquered? How does He triumph unaided while mankind are helpless [before Him]? Without the aid of learning He intones the sweetest verses404; without the help of others He lays down the Best Law. Why should we not see a hundred thousand souls His sacrifice? Why should we not see a hundred thousand hearts bewitched by Him?
By the movement of His Pen [men’s] hearts and breasts are moved; by the calmness of His Glance cometh Peace without and within 80
hosts of the captains did not overthrow His Standard. Behold how His Word permeates the world as the soul the body; behold how His Influence throbs in the spirit like the blood in the veins! The hostility of His foes does but [attempt to] crush water in a mortar; the enmity of His rivals is but as wind in the desert. The duration of His command in the heart keeps company with the Spirit406; the continuance of His authority in the world is coeval with the ages. What a fire hath He kindled in [men’s] hearts, such that no water can quench this furnace! 85 His authority comprehendeth the terrestrial and the subterranean regions; His fame hath passed beyond China, India and Japan. With one glance He hath conquered two hundred countries and districts; with one [stroke of His] Pen He hath taken a hundred castles and fortresses. How by His summons to the Faith hath He established a Church against whom until the Resurrection no opponent shall prevail! He sought help from none to found His Law; yea, God did not raise up the heavens on pillars407. When, when wilt thou admit His Grace and Mercy? How, how canst thou deny His Knowledge and Power? 90 Thou, who canst not order the affairs of a single household, do not contend with Him who orders all the ages! Thou, who knowest not what is expedient in thine own affairs, do not obstinately strive with the Lord of the Kingdom of ‘Be and it is408’! Thou dost dispute with thy father about a farthing’s damage; these409 surrender life and wealth for His sake, and deem themselves favoured. Alas a thousandfold that I have a thousand thoughts which I cannot harmonize with these restricted rhymes! Words have escaped my control, yet [the tale of] my heart’s pain is incomplete; now I return again to the same refrain. 95
trifles.
The time preens itself like a peacock in varied hues ; the sphere displays its blandishments like a chameleon in divers colours. Sufficient is thy burning, O Sun, for my heart is roasted! sufficient is thy turning, O Heaven, for my body is ground to powder! I have a head, but what can it do with all this passion? I have a heart, but what can it do with all this trickery? Where can the soul find endurance and steadfastness except in the Beloved? Where can the heart find patience and rest save in the Heart’s Desire? 100 At one time I say to myself, ‘Perfection is a disaster’411: at another I laugh to myself, ‘Madness is of many kinds.’ At one time my fancy rushes through the plain like an engine; at another my desire soars in the air like a balloon. I have broken away from the body, but life will not leave the body; I have abandoned life, yet the heart is not tranquil. My heart is wearied of this ruined mansion of merit and talent welcome the kingdoms of Love! welcome the realms of Madness412! ‘The hobble of understanding hath snapped on the leg of the dromedary of my luck413: O God, where is my Laylá, for I have become Majnún (mad)? 105 Save the Divine Will [exercised] through the channel of Omnipotence, who can drag me forth from this whirlpool? Behold, the Will of God is ‘He whom God willeth414,’ with whose will the Will of God is conjoined; [page 217] The unique Servant of Bahá (‘Abdu’l-Bahá), made such by the Will of God, Who ‘When He willeth aught, saith “Be!” and it is415’; A King to whom God shows us the way; a Moon who guides us towards God; ‘God’s Secret,’ the fortunate Pearl of the Ocean of Union, who is the Pearl concealed in the shell of God’s Knowledge; 110 Beside his excellence, excellence lacks its excellency; beside his bounty Ma‘n416 is a withholder of benefits. His enemy is a foe unto himself whom even his friends renounce;. he who obeys him is secure of himself and trusted by mankind. In praise of the countenance of Him round whom the [Divine] Names revolve I would sing psalms, were I granted permission by Him. I continued to utter in praise of His Essence what God [Himself] hath said, not the verse of ‘the poets whom the erring follow’417. O Vice-gerent [Khalífa] of the All-merciful, O Ark of Noah, be not grieved because the Truth hath been weakened by violation [of the Covenant]. 115 In the Dispensation of Adam, Qábíl [Cain] cruelly and despitefully shed his brother’s blood without fault or sin [on his part]. In the Dispensation of Noah, when Canaan418 broke his father’s Covenant, by the disgrace of a repudiated affiliation he was drowned in the Sea of Shame. In the Dispensation of Jacob, Joseph the faithful was imprisoned in the bonds of servitude by the wiles of his brethren. In the Dispensation of Moses from amongst the children of Israel one was such as Aaron and another such as Qárún419. In the Dispensation of the Spirit of God [Jesus Christ] from amongst
one in sincerity like Simon [Peter]. 120 In the Dispensation of His Holiness the Seal of the Prophets [Muḥammad] one of his people was in faithfulness Abú Dharr and another Abú Sha‘yún420. In the Dispensation of His Holiness the Supreme [the Báb] two persons were [entitled) Waḥíd421; one was faithful and brave, the other a cowardly traitor. In the Dispensation of the Most Splendid Countenance [Bahá’u’lláh] it must likewise needs be so, one faithful to the Covenant, the other a vile violator thereof422. I will not open my lips to curse, but God says, ‘Whosoever breaketh my Covenant is accursed.’ This people wilfully shut their eyes to the Truth, for the Truth is apparent from the False in all circumstances. 125 I swear by Thy Face, O Exemplar of all peoples! I swear by Thy Hair, O Leader of all the ages! I swear by Thy Substance, to wit the Majesty of the Absolute! I swear by Thy Truth, to wit the Reality of the Why-less423! I swear by Thy Countenance, to wit His [God’s] dawning Countenance! I swear by thy Secret, to wit His Treasured Secret! By the earth at Thy Feet, to wit the Alchemy of Desire! By the dust on Thy Road, to wit the tutty of [our] eyes!
place of adoration of mankind adorned by ‘the Olive424’! 130 [By all these I swear] that my heart cannot remain tranquil without praising Thee, for the debtor cannot lay his head tranquilly on the pillow. Yet how can Na‘ím utter Thy praises? [He is as one] unproved who steps into the Oxus. May he who obeys Thy command be secure from the deceits of the Flesh! May he who is the captive of Thy thralls be protected from the delusions of the time!” 133 Some apology is needed for quoting and translating in full so long a poem by an author so modern, so little known outside the circle of his own coreligionists, and, as he himself admits (verse 94), so comparatively unskilful in the manipulation of rhyme and metre. On the other hand the Bábí and the subsequent and consequent Bahá'í movement constitutes one of the most important and typical manifestations of the Persian spirit in our own time; and this poem, wherein an ardent enthusiasm struggles with a somewhat uncouth terminology, does on the whole faithfully represent the Bahá'í Weltanschauung. The following brief analysis may help the reader better to understand the line of thought which it pursues. Analysis of Na‘ím’s Poem. Dissatisfaction of the author with the ordinary pursuits of life, and recognition of the vanity of worldly wealth, pomp and learning (verses 1-25). True religion celebrated as the only thing which can satisfy the human soul; and materialism, socialism and communism condemned (verses 26-37). True wisdom and its seekers and expounders, including the ancient Greek philosophers, praised (verses 38-48).
Man’s need of Divine Revelation, which is as the need of a little child for its mother’s milk (verses 61-63). Eagerness of the followers of the Báb and Bahá’u’lláh for suffering and martyrdom (verses 64-69). Fulfilment of former prophecies in this Dispensation (verses 70-74). Proofs of the truth of Bahá’u’lláh’s claim (verses 75-94).
(5) The Taṣníf or Ballad. This class of verse, ephemeral as our own topical and comic Songs, leaves far fewer and slighter traces in literature than its actual importance would lead us to expect. A taṣníf about the Ṣáḥib-Díwán beginning: 
(“He made [the garden of] Dil-gushá under ‘the Slide’; He made Dil-gushá with the sticks and the stocks: Alas for Dil-gushá! Alas for Dil-gushá!”)
The authorship of these taṣnífs is seldom known, and they are hardly ever committed to writing, though my friend the late George Grahame, when Consul at Shíráz in 1905, very kindly caused a small selection of two score of those most popular at the time in that city and in Ṭihrán, Iṣfahán, Rasht, Tabríz, and elsewhere, to be written down for me; and a selection, adapted as far as possible to the piano, was published in or about 1904 under the title of Twelve Persian Folk-Songs collected and arranged for voice and pianoforte by Blair Fairchild: English version of the words by Alma Strettell (Novello & Co., London and New York). In this excellent little book the songs are well set, well rendered into English, and intelligibly if not ideally transliterated, and the following sentence from the short prefatory note shows how sensible the compiler was to the indescribable charm of Persian minstrelsy: “But one needs the setting of the Orient to realize what these songs are: the warm, clear Persian night; the lamps and lanterns shining on the glowing colours of native dresses; the surrounding darkness where dusky shadows hover; the strange sounds of music; voices, sometimes so beautiful, rising and falling in persistent monotony — all this is untranslatable, but the impression left on one is so vivid and so full of enchantment that one longs to preserve it in some form.” Most of these taṣnífs are very simple love-songs, in which lines from Ḥáfiẓ and other popular poets are sometimes [page 223] incorporated; the topical, polemical and satirical class is much smaller, though in some ways more interesting as well as more ephemeral. A parody or parallel of such a taṣníf may be produced to accord with fresh circumstances, as happens nearer home with the Irish   and the Welsh mochyn du. An instance of such an adaptation is afforded by the second poem cited in my Press and Poetry of Modern Persia (pp. 174-9). Of course in the taṣníf the air is at least as important as the words, and a proper study of them would require a knowledge of Persian music, which, unhappily, I do not possess. Indeed I should think that few Europeans had mastered it both in practice and theory, or could even enumerate the twelve maqáms and their twenty-four derivatives (shu‘ba)428.
(6) Modern political verse. Of this I have treated so fully in my Press and Poetry of Modern Persia (Cambridge, 1914) that it is unnecessary to enlarge further on it in this place. It is a product of the Revolution of 1905 and the succeeding years, and in my opinion shows real originality, merit and humour. Should space permit, I may perhaps add a few further specimens when I come to speak of the modern journalism with which it is so closely associated, and which, indeed, alone rendered it possible. The most notable authors of this class of verse include ‘Árif and Dakhaw of Qazwín, Ashraf of Gílán, and Bahár of Mashhad, all of whom, so far as I know, are still living, while the two first named are comparatively young men. Portraits of all of them, and some particulars of their lives, will be found in my book above mentioned. 
CHAPTER VI. POETS OF THE CLASSICAL TRADITION. PRE-QÁJÁR PERIOD (A.D. 1500-1800). Almost any educated Persian can compose tolerable verses, and the great majority do so, while the number of those who habitually indulge in this pastime on a considerable scale and have produced díwáns of poetry has been at all times fairly large. Moreover this poetry is as a rule so conventional, and the language in which it is written so unchanged during the period under discussion, that if a hundred ghazals, or odes, by a hundred different poets who flourished during the last four centuries were selected, avoiding those which contained any reference to current events, and omitting the concluding verse of each, wherein the poet generally inserts his takhalluṣ, or nom de guerre, it is extremely doubtful whether any critic could, from their style, arrange them even approximately in chronological order, or distinguish the work of a poet contemporary with Sháh Isma’íl the Ṣafawí from one who flourished in the reign of Náṣiru’d-Dín Sháh Qájár. Nor do the tadhkiras, or Memoirs of Poets, give us much help in making a selection, for when discussing contemporaries the author is very apt to make mention of his personal friends, and to ignore those whom he dislikes or of whom he disapproves. Thus influential or amiable rhymsters of mediocre ability are often included, while heretics, satirists and persons distasteful or indifferent to the author, though of greater talent, are often omitted. When Riḍá-qulí Khán “Hidáyat,” author of that great modern anthology entitled [page 225] Majma‘u’l-Fuṣaḥá (“the Concourse of the Eloquent”)429, comes to speak of his contemporaries, we constantly come across such expressions as 
“He had a special connection with me, and I a sincere regard for him430”; “I saw him in Shíráz431”; I repeatedly called on him and he used to open the gates of conversation before my face432”; “I sometimes get a talk with him433”; “for a while he established himself in Fárs, where at that time the writer also was living; I used constantly to have the honour of conversing with him, for he used to open the gates of gladness before the faces of his friends434”; and so forth. How many of the 359 “contemporary poets” mentioned in this work435 were included on such personal grounds rather than on account of any conspicuous merit? I once went through the list with my excellent old friend Ḥájji Mírzá Yaḥyá Dawlatábádí, a man of wide culture and possessing a most extensive knowledge of Persian poetry, of which he must know by heart many thousands of verses, and asked him which of them he considered really notable. Out of the whole 359 he indicated five (Ṣabá of Káshán, Furúghí of Bisṭám, Qá’ání of Shíráz, Mijmar of Iṣfahán, and Nasháṭ of Iṣfahán) as of the first class; two (Wiṣál of Shíráz, and the author himself, Hidáyat) as of the second; and two (Surúsh of Iṣfahán and Wiqár of Shíráz) as of the third; [page 226] that is, he regarded about one out of every forty mentioned as having a claim to real distinction. In any case, therefore, a very rigorous selection must be made, the more so when it is a question of poets whose beauty does not depend solely on form, and can, therefore, be preserved in some degree in translation. In making this selection I have included such poets as enjoy any considerable fame in their own country, and any others whom I happen to have come across in the course of my reading (a mere fraction of the total number) who make any special appeal to myself. It is doubtful how far a foreigner is competent to criticize; he may say that he personally admires or dislikes a particular poet, but I doubt if he should go so far as to class him definitely on this ground as good or bad. The taste of even the Turks and Indians, who are more familiar with Persian poetry than we can easily become, differs very considerably from that of the Persians themselves, who must be reckoned the most competent judges of their own literature. In this connection I should like to direct the reader’s attention to a very apposite passage in P. G. Hamerton’s Intellectual Life436. Speaking of a Frenchman who had learned English entirely from books, without being able either to speak it, or to understand it when spoken, and “had attained what would certainly in the case of a dead language be considered a very high degree of scholarship indeed,” he says: “His appreciation of our authors, especially of our poets, differed so widely from English criticism and English feeling that it was evident he did not understand them as we understand them. Two things especially proved this: he frequently mistook declamatory versification of the most mediocre quality for poetry of an elevated order; whilst, on the other hand, his ear failed to perceive the music of the musical poets, as [page 227] Byron and Tennyson. How could he hear their music, he to whom our English sounds were all unknown?” Transform this Frenchman into an Indian or a Turk, and substitute “Persian” for “English” and “Qá’ání” for “Byron and Tennyson,” and the above remarks admirably apply to most Turkish and Indian appreciations of Persian poetry. Of the poets who died between A.D. 1500 and 1600 some ten or a dozen deserve at least a brief mention; of those between A.D. 1600 and 1700 about the same number; between A.D. 1700 and 1800 only one or two; between A.D. 1800 and 1885 about a score. Those who outlived the date last-mentioned may be conveniently grouped with the moderns, who will be discussed separately. The following are the poets of whom I propose to speak briefly, arranged in chronological order of their deaths (the dates of birth are seldom recorded) in the four periods indicated above. Yüklə 1,57 Mb. Dostları ilə paylaş:
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