Literary History of Persia

At the beginning of the fifteenth century, then, the Ṣafawís were simply the hereditary pírs, murshids, or spiritual

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directors of an increasingly large and important order of darwíshes or Ṣúfís which drew its adherents not only from Persia but from the Turkish provinces of Asia Minor, where they appear to have carried on an active propaganda³⁹. How successful this promised to become in later days is shown by the dreadful massacre of some forty thousand of the Shí‘a perpetrated in his dominions by Sulṭán Salím “the Grim” as a preliminary to his great campaign against Sháh Isma‘íl in A.D. 1514⁴⁰. To these devoted darwíshes or muríds, as their war-cry cited above (p. 15) sufficiently shows, the head of the Ṣafawí House, even after he had ceased to be a Shaykh and had become a Sháh, continued to be regarded as the pír or murshid. Chardin, Raphaël du Mans⁴¹, and other reputable authorities have scoffed at the title “Great Sophi,” by which the Ṣafawí Sháhs are commonly designated by contemporary European diplomatists and writers, on the ground that the Ṣúfís were generally poor and humble people and of doubtful orthodoxy, despised and rejected of men, and unlikely to lend their name to the Great King of Persia. But in the Persian histories of the Ṣafawís, even in the Silsilatu’n-Nasab compiled about the time when Raphaël du Mans wrote, and still more in the Aḥsanu’t-Tawáríkh and other earlier chronicles, the Ṣúfís, especially the Ṣúfís of Rúm (i.e. Turkey in Asia), are represented as the cream of the Ṣafawí army; we read of “self-sacrifice, courage, and whatever else is inseparable from Ṣúfí-hood⁴²” and of unworthy and disloyal acts described as “un-Ṣúfí-like”(ná-Ṣúfí). What, then, more natural than that he who was regarded not only as the Sháh of Persia
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but as the Shaykh of these devoted darwíshes or Ṣúfís, whose courage amazed contemporary Venetian travellers, should be called in Europe “the Great Ṣúfí” or “Sophi”? At any rate no more probable origin has been suggested for this term, which can scarcely be regarded as a corrupt pronunciation of Ṣafawí.

It would appear that an idea prevailed in Europe (based, perhaps, on vague recollections of the Magi or Wise Men from the East) that Sophi was derived from σοϕός, an opinion which Don Juan of Persia⁴³ is at pains to refute; for, having described how Sháh Isma‘íl immediately after he had conquered Tabríz adopted the title of “gran Sophi de Persia,” he adds: “no Sophi por sabio, como algunos mal entendieron, pensando que venia de Sòpos vocablo Griego, sino de Sophi, que es vocablo Persiano, y quiere dezir, lana, ō algodon” (“Not Sophi in the sense of wise, as some have erroneously supposed, thinking it to come from the Greek word σοϕός, but from Sophi, which is a Persian word meaning wool or cotton⁴⁴”).

The rapid rise to power of Isma‘íl is one of the most remarkable events in Persian history, especially in view of his forlorn and threatened childhood. His father, Shaykh Ḥaydar, was killed in A.D. 1490 when he was only about three years of age⁴⁵, and he and his two brothers, of whom the elder, Sulṭán ‘Alí, also fell in battle about A.D. 1495, were in constant danger from the Turkmán rulers of the “White Sheep” dynasty, and had many hair-breadth escapes in which they owed their lives to the devoted loyalty of their faithful Ṣúfís. Only seven of these accompanied Isma‘íl when, at the age of thirteen, he set out from Láhiján for Ardabíl to win a kingdom or perish in the attempt, but at every
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stage he received reinforcements, so that at Ṭárum his army numbered fifteen hundred men, and by the time he reached Arzinján on his way to attack Farrukh-Yasár, king of Shírwán, it had increased to seven thousand. Within a year he had taken Tabríz, been crowned king of Persia, and, despite the attempts of his counsellors to dissuade him, imposed the Shí‘a doctrine on his subjects. He was warned that two-thirds of the people of Tabríz were Sunnís, and that the introduction into the prayers and professions of Faith of the distinctively Shí‘a clauses, and more especially the cursing of the first three Caliphs, Abú Bakr, ‘Umar and ‘Uthmán, might lead to trouble. “God and the Immaculate Imáms are with me,” he replied, “and I fear no one. By God’s help, if the people utter one word of protest, I will draw the sword and leave not one of them alive⁴⁶.” He was as good as his word, and when the above-mentioned anathema was uttered all men were commanded, on pain of death, to exclaim, “May it (i.e. the curse) be more, not less!” (Bísh bád, kam ma-bád!).

Ruthless and bloodthirsty as he showed himself, Sháh Isma‘íl, as depicted by contemporary Venetian travellers, had many attractive characteristics. At the age of thirteen he was, according to Caterino Zeno, “of noble presence and a truly royal bearing, … nor did the virtues of his mind disaccord with the beauty of his person, as he had an elevated genius, and such a lofty idea of things as seemed incredible at such a tender age.” Angiolello describes him as “very much beloved … for his beauty and pleasing manners”; and, when grown to man’s estate, as “fair, handsome, and very pleasing; not very tall, but of a light and well-framed figure; rather stout than slight, with broad shoulders. His hair is reddish; he only wears moustachios, and uses his left hand instead of his right. He is as brave as a game-cock, and stronger than

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any of his lords; in the archery contests, out of the ten apples that are knocked down, he knocks down seven.” The anonymous merchant, after describing Isma‘íl’s doings in Tabríz, adds “from the time of Nero to the present, I doubt whether so bloodthirsty a tyrant has ever existed,” yet adds a little further on that at Caesarea “he caused proclamation to be made that everyone who brought provisions for sale should be liberally paid, and forbade his men, under pain of death, to take even as much as a handful of straw without paying for it, as it was a friendly city.” He further describes him as “amiable as a girl, left-handed by nature, as lively as a fawn, and stronger than any of his lords,” and says that “this Sophi is loved and reverenced by his people as a god, and especially by his soldiers, many of whom enter into battle without armour, expecting their master Ismael to watch over them in the fight.”

The closest historical parallel to the Ṣafawí movement is, I think, afforded by the propaganda in favour of the ‘Abbásids carried on by Abú Muslim in Persia with so great a success in the first half of the eighth century of our era. Both were consciously religious and only unconsciously, though none the less truly, racial; the chief difference was that the later movement had to confront in the person of the Ottoman Sulṭán Salím a far more energetic and formidable antagonist than the earlier in the Umayyad Caliph Marwán, and hence its more limited success; for while the ‘Abbásid cause triumphed throughout almost the whole of the Eastern lands of Islám, the Ṣafawí triumph was limited to Persia, though without doubt at one time it threatened Turkey as well. Fear is the great incentive to cruelty, and it was chiefly fear which caused Sulṭán Salím to massacre in cold blood some forty thousand of his Shí‘a subjects. Fear, however, was not the only motive of this ferocity; with it were mingled anger

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and disappointment. For Sulṭán Salím was what is now called a Pan-Islamist, and his ambition was to be not merely the Sovereign of the greatest and most powerful Muhammadan State, but the supreme head of the whole Muslim world. His conquest of Egypt and the Holy Cities of Mecca and Madína in A.D. 1517, and his assumption of the title of Caliph, which, whether by threats or promises, or a combination of the two, he induced the last titular ‘Abbásid Caliph to surrender to him, might well have given him this position but for Sháh Isma‘íl and the barrier of heterodoxy which he had erected between the Turks, Egyptians and other Sunnís to the West and their fellow-believers to the East in Transoxiana, Afghánistán, Balúchistán and India. The Persians not only refused to recognise Sulṭán Salím as Caliph, but repudiated the whole theory of the Caliphate. The Turkish victory over the Persians at Cháldirán in August, 1514, failed of its results owing to the refusal of the Ottoman troops to push home their advantage, and thus robbed the succeeding Egyptian campaign of its full measure of success, and left a lasting soreness which served greatly to weaken the political power of Islám and to impose a check on Turkish ambitions whereby, as we have seen, Europe greatly profited. Between A.D. 1508, when it was taken by the Persians, and A.D. 1638, when it was finally recovered by the Turks, Baghdád, once the metropolis of Islám, changed hands many times as the tide of these bitter and interminable wars ebbed and flowed, until the increasing weakness and effeminacy of the later Ṣafawí kings left Turkey in undisputed possession of Mesopotamia.

Art and Literature.

One of the most curious and, at first sight, inexplicable phenomena of the Ṣafawí period is the extraordinary dearth of notable poets in Persia during the two centuries of its duration. Architecture,
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miniature-painting and other arts flourished exceedingly; the public buildings with which Sháh ‘Abbás adorned his realms, and especially his capital Iṣfahán, have not ceased to command the admiration of all who beheld them from his time until the present day; and Bihzád and the other artists who flourished at the Tímúrid court of Herát found worthy successors in Riḍá-yi-‘Abbásí and his colleagues. Yet, though poets innumerable are mentioned in the Tuḥfa-i-Sámí⁴⁷ and other contemporary biographies and histories, there is hardly one (if we exclude Jámí, Hátifí, Hilálí and other poets of Khurásán, who were really the survivors of the school of Herát) worthy to be placed in the first class. During the seventy stormy years of Tímúr’s life there were at least eight or ten poets besides the great Ḥáfiẓ, who outshone them all, whose names no writer on Persian literature could ignore; while during the two hundred and twenty years of Ṣafawí rule there was in Persia, so far as I have been able to ascertain, hardly one of conspicuous merit or originality. I say “in Persia” advisedly, for a brilliant group of poets from Persia, of whom ‘Urfí of Shíráz (d. A.D. 1590) and Ṣá’ib of Iṣfahán(d. A.D. 1670) are perhaps the most notable, adorned the court of the “Great Moghuls” in India, and these were in many cases not settlers or the sons of emigrants, but men who went from Persia to India to make their fortunes and returned home when their fortunes were made. This shows that it was not so much lack of talent as lack of patronage which makes the list of distinctively Ṣafawí poets so meagre. The phenomenon is noticed by Riḍá-qulí Khán in the preface to his great anthology of Persian poets entitled Majma‘u-l-Fuṣaḥá⁴⁸, composed in the middle of the last century, as well
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as by European scholars like the late Dr. Ethé, who have written on Persian poetry; with this difference, that the European writers commonly speak of Jámí as the last great Persian poet, and consider that during the four centuries which have elapsed since his death Persia has produced no poet of eminence, while Riḍá-qulí Khán, rightly as I think, places certain modern poets of the Qájár period, notably such men as Qá’ání, Furúghí and Yaghmá, in the first rank.

That no great poet should have arisen in Persia in days otherwise so spacious and so splendid as those of the Ṣafawís seemed to me so remarkable that I wrote to my learned and scholarly friend Mírzá Muḥammad Khán of Qazwín, to whose industry and acumen students of Persian owe so much, to ask him, first, whether he accepted this statement as a fact, and secondly, if he did, how he explained it. In reply, in a letter dated May 24, 1911, he wrote as follows:

“There is at any rate no doubt that during the Ṣafawí period literature and poetry in Persia had sunk to a very low ebb, and that not one single poet of the first rank can be reckoned as representing this epoch. The chief reason for this, as you yourself have observed, seems to have been that these kings, by reason of their political aims and strong antagonism to the Ottoman Empire, devoted the greater part of their energies to the propagation of the Shí‘a doctrine and the encouragement of divines learned in its principles and laws. Now although these divines strove greatly to effect the religious unification of Persia (which resulted in its political unification), and laid the foundations of this present-day Persia, whose inhabitants are, speaking generally, of one faith, one tongue, and one race, yet, on the other hand, from the point of view of literature, poetry, Ṣúfíism and mysticism, and, to use their own expression, everything connected with the ‘Accomplishments’‘ (as opposed to the

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‘Legalities’)⁴⁹, they not merely fell far short in the promotion thereof, but sought by every means to injure and annoy the representatives of these ‘Accomplishments,’ who were generally not too firmly established in the Religious Law and its derivatives. In regard to the Sufis particularly they employed every kind of severity and vexation, whether by exile, expulsion, slaughter or reprimand, slaying or burning many of them with their own hands or by their sentence. Now the close connection between poetry and Belles Lettres on the one hand, and Ṣúfíism and Mysticism on the other, at any rate in Persia, is obvious, so that the extinction of one necessarily involves the extinction and destruction of the other. Hence it was that under this dynasty learning, culture, poetry and mysticism completely deserted Persia, and the cloisters, monasteries, retreats and rest-houses [of the darwíshes] were so utterly destroyed that there is now throughout the whole of Persia no name or sign of such charitable foundations, though formerly, as, for instance, in the time of Ibn Baṭúṭa, such institutions were to be found in every town, hamlet and village, as abundantly appears from the perusal of his Travels, wherein he describes how in every place, small or great, where he halted, he alighted in such buildings, of which at the present day no name or sign exists. Anyone ignorant of the circumstances of the Ṣafawí period might well wonder whether this Persia and that are the same country, and the creed of its inhabitants the same Islám; and, if so, why practically, with rare exceptions, there exists now not a single monastery throughout the whole of Persia, while in those parts of Turkey, such as Mesopotamia, Kurdistán and Sulaymániyya, which did not remain under the Ṣafawí dominion, there are many such buildings just as there were in Ibn Baṭúṭa’s days.

“At all events during the Ṣafawí period in place of great

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poets and philosophers there arose theologians, great indeed, but harsh, dry, fanatical and formal, like the Majlisís, the Muḥaqqiq-i-thání, Shaykh Ḥurr-i-Ámulí and Shaykh-i-Bahá'í, etc.”

Most professional poets in the East are primarily panegyrists, and if Riḍá-qulí Khán is correct in his assertion that the Ṣafawí kings, especially Ṭahmásp and ‘Abbás the Great, expressed a wish that laudatory poems should be addressed to the Imáms rather than to themselves, another and a more creditable cause for the diminution of poets in their realms is indicated. More material benefits were to be looked for from the Great Moghuls⁵⁰ than from the Imáms, and hence the eyes and feet of the more mercenary poets turned rather to Dihlí than to Karbalá. But to religious poetry commemorating the virtues and sufferings of the Imáms a great impetus was given in Persia, and of these poets Muḥtasham of Káshán (d. A.D. 1588) was the most eminent. But, besides these more formal and classical elegies, it is probable that much of the simpler and often very touching verse, wherein the religious feelings of the Persians find expression during the Muḥarram mourning, dates from this period, when every means was employed to stimulate and develop these sentiments of devotion to the House of ‘Alí and detestation of its oppressors. On the other hand the dramatisation of these moving scenes, which now form so remarkable a feature of the Muḥarram mourning (Ta‘ziya), and are often described by European writers as “Miracle Plays,” seems to have taken place at a much later period. That careful writer Olearius spent the month of Muḥarram, A.H. 1047 (May-June, 1637) at Ardabíl, the sanctuary of the Ṣafawí family,

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and gives a very full description of all that he saw, the mournings, wailings, lamentations and cuttings culminating on the ‘Áshúrá, the tenth day of the month or Rúz-i-Qatl, but he makes no mention of any dramatic representations, so that it is pretty certain that none existed at that time. To elucidate this point I addressed enquiries to two well-informed and intelligent Persian friends, Sayyid Taqí-záda and Mírzá Ḥusayn Dánish. The former expressed the opinion that while the solemn recitations known as Rawḍa-khwání (i.e. the reading from the pulpit of the Rawḍatu’sh-Shuhadá, or “Garden of the Martyrs,’) and other similar books) dates from Ṣafawí times, the Ta‘ziya-gardání, shabíh, or “Passion Play” was of much later date, and perhaps owes something to European influences. The latter also placed the origin of these “Passion Plays” (of which Sir Lewis Pelly’s translations give a good idea to the English reader) about the end of the eighteenth or beginning of the nineteenth century, i.e. at the beginning of the Qájár period, and incidentally cited the following interesting verses by Shaykh Riḍá-yi-Kurd in illustration of the view that the Persian dislike of ‘Umar is due not less to the fact that he conquered Persia and overthrew the Sásánian dynasty than to his usurpation of the rights of ‘Alí and Fáṭima:

“‘Umar broke the back of the lions of the thicket:

He cast to the winds the thews and sinews of Jamshíd.

This quarrel is not about the usurpation of the Caliphate from ‘Alí:

Persia has an ancient grudge against the House of ‘Umar.”

In conclusion we must not omit to notice another step taken by the Ṣafawí kings which added greatly to the
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consolidation of Persia and the prevention of a continued outflow of men and money from the country, namely the exaltation and popularisation of Mashhad, Qum and other holy cities of Persia, whereby the tide of pilgrims was to a considerable extent confined within the limits of their Empire, in which, as we have seen, the most sacred shrines of Karbalá, Najaf and Mashhad ‘Alí were long included before they finally fell under Turkish dominion⁵¹.

Postscript.

I am indebted to my friend Mr. H. L. Rabino, of H.B.M.’s Consular Service, for the following valuable notes on the celebration of the Muḥarram mourning at Baghdád as early as the fourth Muhammadan (tenth Christian) century. I have only the text of the two passages (one in German and the other in Persian): the reference was probably given in the accompanying letter (December 23, 1922), which has unfortunately been mislaid. I have an impression that they are taken from one of Dorn’s articles, probably published in the Mélanges Asiatiques. The whole quotation runs as follows:
“Die ‘ta‘sieh’ wurden in Baghdad i. J. 963 von der Buwaihiden Mu‘iss-ed-daula eingeführt, wie uns Ahmed b. Abu’l-Feth in seinem Werke خ صﺻﻘﻟ اﻥﺴﺤا (Inscr. Mus. As. No. 567^a) berichtet.”

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“Institution of the mourning for the Chief of Martyrs

in Baghdád in A.H. 352 [A.D. 963].
“It is related in the History of Ibn Kathír the Syrian that Mu‘izzu’d-Dawla Aḥmad ibn Buwayh issued orders in Baghdád that during the first ten days of Muḥarram all the bazaars of Baghdád should be closed, and that the people should wear black for mourning and betake themselves to mourning for the Chief of Martyrs [the Imám Ḥusayn]. Since this procedure was not customary in Baghdád, the Sunní doctors regarded it as a great innovation; but since they had no control over Mu‘izzu’d-Dawla, they could do nothing but submit. Thereafter every year until the collapse of the Daylamite [or Buwayhid] dynasty, this custom of mourning was observed by the Shí‘ites in all countries during the first ten days of Muḥarram. In Baghdád it continued until the early days of the reign of Ṭughril the Saljúq.”

CHAPTER II.

THE CREATION OF THE ṢAFAWÍ POWER TO 930/1524.

SHÁH ISMA‘ÍL AND HIS ANCESTORS.
That Shaykh Ṣafiyyu’d-Dín, the saintly recluse of Ardabíl from whom the Ṣafawí kings of Persia derived their descent and their name, was really an important and influential person in his own day, is a fact susceptible of historical proof. He who wins a throne and founds a great dynasty destined to endure for more than two centuries is apt, if he be of lowly origin, to create, or allow to be created, some legend connecting his ancestors with famous kings, statesmen or warriors of old, or otherwise reflecting glory on a House which, till he made it powerful and illustrious, held but a humble place in men’s esteem. But Sháh Isma‘íl, sixth in descent from Shaykh Ṣafí (as we shall henceforth call him for brevity), who founded the Ṣafawí dynasty about the beginning of the sixteenth century of the Christian era, and raised Persia to a position of splendour which she had scarcely held since the overthrow of the ancient and noble House of Sásán by the Arabs in the seventh century, had no occasion to resort to these devices; for whether or no Shaykh Ṣafí was directly descended from the seventh Imám of the Shí‘a, Músá Káẓim, and through him from ‘Alí ibn Abí Ṭálib⁵² and Fáṭima the Prophet’s daughter (and his
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claim is probably at least as good as that of any contemporary Sayyid), two facts prove that in his own time (the thirteenth century) he was highly accounted as a saint and spiritual guide.

The first and more important of these two facts is the concern shown by that great Minister Rashídu’d-Dín Faḍlu’lláh for his welfare, and the desire to win his favour and intercession. In the very rare collection of the Minister’s letters known as the Munsha’át-i-Rashidí⁵³ there occur two documents affording proof of this. The first is a letter (No. 45 of the collection, ff. 145^b-149^a of the ms.) addressed to Shaykh Ṣafiyyu’d-Dín himself, offering to his monastery (Khánqáh)a yearly gift of corn, wine, oil, cattle, sugar, honey and other food-stuffs for the proper entertainment of the notables of Ardabíl on the anniversary of the Prophet’s birthday, on condition that prayers should be offered up at the conclusion of the feast for the writer and benefactor. The second (No. 49, ff. 161^a-169^b) is addressed by Rashíd to his son Mír Aḥmad, governor of Ardabíl, enjoining on him consideration for all its inhabitants, and especially “to act in such wise that His Holiness the Pole of the Heaven of Truth, the Swimmer in the Oceans of the Law, the Pacer of the Hippodrome of the Path, the Shaykh of Islám and of the Muslims, the Proof of such as attain the Goal, the Exemplar of the Bench of Purity, the Rose-tree of the Garden of Fidelity, Shaykh Ṣafiyyu’l-Millat wa’d-Dín (may