Legitimising the Khan: Rashid al-Din’s Ideological Project from a Literary Aspect

ABSTRACT

The world history of Rashid al-Din, known as Jamiʿ al-Tavarikh, was written in the fourteenth century primarily to record the history of Chingizid dynasty. However, the book turned out to be one of the most significant projects of the Ilkhanid era such that even now, after six centuries still enthrals its readers. This article attempts to show how Rashid al-Din sought to legitimise the Ilkhanids by applying literary devices, in particular poetry. The article also discusses the importance of poetry as a form of demonstration of power.

KEYWORDS:

• Jamiʿ al-Tavarikh
• Rashid al-Din
• the Ilkhanids
• poetry
• ideology

“How did Rashid al-Din legitimise his Ilkhanid patrons?” This question has been at the centre of a number of works for years; the most important and the most comprehensive of which is Stefan Kamola’s Making Mongol History.¹ While Kamola thoroughly explored various aspects of Jamiʿ al-Tavarakh in order to make sense of Rashid al-Din’s ideological project, and Jonathan Brack investigated Rashid al-Din’s theological works to answer the same question,² there is one area that has not been touched upon yet: Poetry. In the following pages, I intend to demonstrate that in the hands of Rashid al-Din, poetry was also a tool by which he could create an extra layer of legitimacy for his Ilkhanid patrons.

In his Muslim Kingship, Aziz Al-Azmeh studies representations of power in Muslim kingship. According to Al-Azmeh, there are two forms of enunciation and representation of royal power; one is a discursive form found in written sources, and the other a non-propositional form seen in iconography and ceremonies.³ A recurrent element of ceremonies involving Muslim rulers was the presence of a poet who stood in front of a king or a sultan and recited poetry which he had composed in order to flatter his patron. In other words, in these situations, poetry was clearly a manifestation of power.⁴ Expanding upon this, I argue that not only poetry as recited in front of a live audience at court, but verses found in written sources can also be manifestations of power and ideology. In fact, poetry seems to be the only aspect which can bridge the two types of representations of power, because it is both propositional and non-propositional; poetry exists not only in written sources, but also in people’s historical and cultural memory.⁵ To demonstrate the poetical aspect of the manifestation of power and ideology, I will investigate the verses that were included in Jamiʿ al-Tavarikh (hereafter JT). Due to the limited scope of this article, I will only focus on the first volume of JT, that is Tarikh-i Mubarak-i Ghazani (The Blessed History of Ghazan).⁶

Ghazan Khan, the seventh Ilkhanid ruler, ascended the throne on November 10^th, 1295 (23 Dhu al-ḥajja 694) and reigned until May 15^th, 1304 (11 Shawwal 703). At some point during his reign, he ordered his vizier, Rashid al-Din to write the history of the Mongols and their conquests. Not having been able to finish it by the time that Ghazan died, Rashid al-Din offered the book to Ghazan’s successor and brother, Öljeitü, who insisted on keeping the original title of the book, Tarikh-i Mubarak-i Ghazani.⁷ Öljeitü also commanded Rashid al-Din to add two other volumes, one on the history of the world and another on geography. Out of the three volumes of JT, the third volume on geography is not extant.

JT includes 159 verses composed by 17 various poets (see the table below), most of whom have only a handful of verses. These verses are scattered unevenly throughout the book and cover a variety of concepts, such as praising God, paying tribute to Ghazan and Öljeitü, kingship, fatalism, preaching virtues, etc. Despite dealing with seemingly different themes, the verses were interpolated carefully and thoughtfully in the text in order to portray the Ilkhanids as what I term “fortunate hero kings”. Therefore, I will start first with explaining the concept of fortune and how it is demonstrated in JT. Then, I will proceed to the second part of my term (i.e. hero kings) in order to investigate how the notion of heroism is carefully woven into the prose text of JT, via applying literary methods. In the last section, I will explore briefly the same concept in two other historical books of the Ikhanid era, Tarikh-i Jahangusha and Tarikh-i Vaṣṣaf in order to compare JT’s usage of poetry with two other important works of historiography contemporaneous with Rashid al-Din. The comparison will make it clear that all these three historical works were aimed to promote an idea; the idea to introduce the Mongols, particularly the Ilkhanids, as successors of the ancient Iranian kings.

Table

	Poet	Number of the verses
1	ʿUnṣuri	1
2	Abusaʿid Abu Al-khayr	2
3	Anvari	2
4	ʿAṭṭar	2
5	Azraqi	1
6	Farrukhi	1
7	Firdawsi	24
8	Khvaja Naṣir	4
9	Majd al-Mulk	2
10	Mawlavi	1
11	Naṣir-khusraw	2
12	Niẓami	1
13	Nur al-Din Munshi	1
14	Nur al-Din Raṣadi	3
15	Rudaki	1
16	Ṣaḥib Divan	9
17	Sanayi	3
18	Pseudo-Firdawsi	43
19	Unknown poet(s)	56

(Table of JT’s classification of verses by poets)⁸

The Fortunate Hero Kings

There seem to be several aspects to JT’s legitimising project depending on which approach one is taking. While Jonathan Brack has interpreted JT as legitimising the Abaqaid line,⁹ it can also be interpreted as a legitimiser of Ghazan Khan by representing him as a Sufi king¹⁰ or a Neo-Muslim king. The latter is the approach adopted by Judith Pfeiffer, who argues that conversion is a motif that forms the framework of Rashid al-Din’s work.¹¹ In these analyses, the emphasis is usually on the prose text of JT; I will demonstrate, however, that the fortunate heroic side of JT reveals itself more in relation to the verses contained therein.

- The Concept of Fortune

Fortune is a concept which played a significant legitimising role in the history of Iranian dynasties, though its form, name, and origin are not always the same. In the pre-Islamic sources, the words farrah (Middle Persian) and khvarnah (Avestan) are mentioned while discussing the concept of fortune. Farrah literally means “glory” and often it was interpreted as “splendour”, “luminosity”, and “shine”. Due to these interpretations, connections were made between farrah and the sun as well; only later did its meaning evolve to include the concept of fortune.¹² Regarding the shape of fortune in ancient Iranian iconography, it was shown as a ring in the relief of the first Sasanian ruler, Ardashir I (224-241 A.D.) in Naqsh-i Rustam. In this relief, Ardashir I is shown sitting on his horse and receiving a ring from Ahuramazda, the Zoroastrian god. Ahriman, the Zoroastrian devil, and the last Arsacid ruler are trampled under the hooves of Ardashir I and Ahuramazda’s horses, signifying the transfer of fortune from the Arsacids (247 B.C- 224 A.D) to the Sasanians (224-651). Another image representing fortune which is also related to this incident can be found in a late Sasanian source, Karnama-yi Ardashir-i Babakan, where fortune is shown as a ram running after Ardashir I to join him.¹³

Despite their importance, these examples are not our only sources of information for farrah. Other examples of farrah are attested in the pre-Islamic sources as well as the Islamic sources, usually followed by an adjective indicating what type of farrah they are. According to these sources, there are five types of farrah: Farrah-i izadi ¹⁴(the divine farrah), farrah-i ariyayi/ irani ¹⁵(the Arian/ Iranian farrah), farrah-i mawbadi/ payambari (farrah of prophets and priests), farrah-i kiyani/ shah ¹⁶(farrah of the kings), and farrah-i hamigan (general farrah). The first and the fourth seem to have been used interchangeably since the late Sasanian era onwards,¹⁷ in such a way that the concept of farrah as the divine support given to kings continued to exist, but was no longer necessarily related to the mythical Kayanid dynasty.¹⁸

The old word farrah is also attested in JT, though in another form “far”, though it was only used once in JT in a verse composed by Nur al-Din Munshi, a courtier of Jalal al-Din, to pay tribute to the aforementioned ruler.¹⁹ Apart from this, other words were used to refer to fortune, some of which, such as bakht,²⁰ iqbal,²¹ and dawlat²² have a clear link to the concept; while others, such as ruzigar (time) and hur (sun) make a more subtle connection to the concept of fortune. More often than not, these words were employed in the verses that were included in the sections regarding a ruler’s ascension. Furthermore, these verses also denote the relationship between fortune and a person’s ṭaliʿ (destiny), as it was perceived to have been written in the sky. According to George Saliba, perceiving and analysing this relationship – a practice which he calls “omen astrology” – was among the responsibilities of court astrologer. In JT, Öljeitü’s astrologers chose an auspicious time for the holding of a quriltai²³ before his ascension:²⁴

Table

^25‏ به بخت موفی و سعد موفر

1- ^26به فال همایون و فرخنده اختر

With auspicious lots and happy stars/ with complete fortune and abundant happiness.

Court astrologers were also customarily present at childbirth, in order to indicate the fortune and destiny of the child based on what they saw in the sky. This type of astrology – known as “horoscopic astrology” – was the most important duty of court astrologers.²⁷ There are two verses in the section on Ghazan Khan’s birth indicating this fact:

Table

به خورشید رخشان کشد تخت او^28	2- بلند است این طالع و بخت او
​ اقطاع تو صدهزار جان خواهد بود‎ ^29	3- در طالع تو نگاه کردم دیدم

Exalted are his destiny and fortune; / his throne reaches to the shining sun.

I gazed into your destiny and saw: / a hundred thousand souls will be in your service.

Other than this, there are a few other examples where fortune is less explicitly referred to, such as the following verse:

Table

همه آن کند کش نیاید به کار

4- چو تیره شود مرد را روزگار

When a man’s fortune (time) has turned black, whatever he does will not be to his benefit.

Here the word ruzigar which literally means time, refers to fortune. Though at first glance, it seems that the verse is referring to the general farrah, the type which everybody possesses, the context in which this verse is included in JT leads us into a different direction: i.e. the story of Chingiz Khan and Sultan Muḥammad Khvarazmshah, when the Sultan ordered the murder of Chingiz’s merchants. This action opened the gates of hell to southwest Asia, resulting in the invasion of the Mongols and leaving the Khvarazmshahids defeated, powerless, and presumably without “fortune”. This action was also a turning point in the history of southwest Asia, for military power was now transferred to the Mongols. This verse appeared in Tarjuma-yi Tarikh-i Yamini for the first time,³⁰ whence it was borrowed by Juvaini, a thirteenth century historian, for the story of Muḥammad Khvarazmshah,³¹ and then by Rashid al-Din for the same story.³² The question here is: What is the similarity between the original context and the one in JT? In Tarjuma-yi Tarikh-i Yamini, this verse is found in the section on the battle between the Simjurids (913-997), the rulers of Khurasan, and the Ghaznavids (977-1186), where the last Simjurid ruler, Abu ʿAli (r.984-87/ 995-97), was defeated by Maḥmud of the Ghaznavids (998-1030). In other words, the verse is an indication of the wrong-headed decisions of Abu ʿAlī, which led to his loss of fortune and eventually his defeat. It is also noteworthy that while in the original story Abu ʿAli is demonstrated as a misguided character, in JT it is Sultan Muḥammad Khvarazmshah who is wrong-headed, which on its own provides a suitable scenario in which these two stories can be analogised.

There is one other thing about the verse above which reveals important details about the contemporary conceptualisation of fortune; this verse not only indicates the loss of farrah by Sultan Muḥammad, given its context, it also demonstrates the transfer of farrah from the Khvarazmshahs to the Mongols. The transfer of farrah from one house to another is attested in another verse in JT as well. This verse, which is repeated several times in various parts of JT, also alludes to the concept of farrah by using the word hur (the sun):

Table

^33 هنر عیب گردد چو برگشت هور

5- ز بیژن فزون بود هومان به زور

Human was more powerful than Bizhan. / Skill becomes a fault when the sun (fortune) turns its back on you.

This verse was originally taken from the Shahnama, in the section where Iranian and Turanian heroes fight with each other over the course of 11 battles.³⁴ In one battle, Bizhan, an Iranian hero, fights Human, a Turanian hero, and defeats him. Firdawsi indicates that though Human was more talented in battle, because he did not have fortune, he was defeated by Bizhan. In JT, the verse was included in the section where the last Great Seljuq ruler, Tughril III (r.1176-94), was defeated by the Khvarazmshahids. His defeat marked the end of the Great Seljuq dynasty and transfer of power to the Khvarazmshahids. In the second occasion, the verse is repeated in the same story, but in the second volume, in the section on the history of the Khvarazmshahs, where the story is narrated not only in the same style, but almost in identical phrases.³⁵

In verse number 5, the word hur is a metaphor for fortune. Though it may seem a simple metaphor at first, it has a long-standing history. Words for or relating to the sun are usually associated with the mythical king, Jam or Jamshid whose name is attested as Yima in the Avesta. Yima’s epithet xŝaeta means radiant and light, just like shid, the second part of Jam’s name.³⁶ Apart from the association of Jamshid’s name to the sun, his story has the closest connection with the concept of fortune in comparison to the stories of the other mythical Iranian kings as well. According to the Shahnama, Jamshid became arrogant and ungrateful after reigning for a long period in peace and prosperity. He claimed divinity and as a result lost his fortune.³⁷ Due to the link between Jamshid, the sun, and fortune, Jamshid is the only Iranian king whose name appears where Rashid al-Din mentions Ghazan and his long list of titles. In this panegyric introduction, Ghazan is called “Jamshid-i khurshid-ṭalʿat” (Sun-faced Jamshid).³⁸ Moreover, the sun is also mentioned in this introduction with its relation to fortune, since another of Ghazan’s panegyric titles is “mihr-i sipihr-i bakhtyari” (the sun of the sky of fortunateness).³⁹ The same treatment can be seen in the introduction of JT where Rashid al-Din relates the story of Öljeitü’s ascension to the throne. In the following verse, Öljeitü is compared to Jamshid:

Table

^40 دربسته آدمی و پری پیش او میان

6- جمشیدوار شاه نشست از فراز تخت

The king, like Jamshid, sat upon the throne on high / the whole of mankind and fairyfolk assembled before him.

- Literary Methods and the heroic side of JT.

In this section, I will investigate the literary methods applied by Rashid al-Din in JT and explain how these methods contribute to the creation of a heroic image of the Mongol rulers. These methods are the forms of the verses, including metre and template, and the rhetorical figures applied in the verses, such as allegory and analogy. Proceeding from immediately visible structural aspects, I will start with the verses’ forms.

As it can be seen in the table, there are 159 verses in JT composed by 17 various poets, most of whom have only a handful of verses in JT (see the table of JT on the second page of this article). A large number of the verses were either composed by Firdawsi or were composed in imitation of his style. The latter I categorise as belonging to “Pseudo-Firdawsi” or “pseudo-Firdawsian”. But what do I mean by imitation?⁴¹

The first and most important similarity between the verses of Firdawsi and the Pseudo-Firdawsian verses is that they are in the same metre, mutaqarib. Though the mutaqarib metre is not exclusively used for epic poetry, because the Shahnama was composed in this metre, it has been regularly associated with epic poetry since its composition. Furthermore, these heroic verses are all included in the sections on battles. Another similarity is in the use of vocabulary in these verses. The following examples demonstrate this resemblance in words. Firdawsi says:

Table

​ سپه یکسر اندیشه اندر گرفت ‎ ^42

7- بماندند از آن کار گردان شگفت

The heroes remained in awe of that / The whole army stood deep in thought.

While the verse in JT is:

Table

​ ز کین هر گوی لب به دندان گرفت ‎ ^43

8- ز کردان بماندند ترکان شگفت

The Turks were in awe of the Kurds / Each hero bit his lip in surprise.

In another set of examples, Firdawsi says:

Table

^44 سر بخت دشمن نگونسار باد

9- ازیشان ترا مزد بسیار باد

May you be granted great reward from them; / May the fortune of your enemies be turned on its head!”

And JT’s verse is:

Table

​ سر بخت دشمن نگونسار شد‎ ^45

10- بگفتا که دولت ترا یار شد

“He said that fortune has befriended you, / that the fortune of your enemies has been turned on its head.

As can be seen, in verse 7 and 8, not only are the rhyming words the same, but the structure of the lines and some words are also similar. Moreover, in verse 8, there is a phrase, lab ba dandan giriftan/gazidan (to bite one’s lip), which is used in the Shahnama repeatedly.⁴⁶ In the second set of examples, verses 9 and 10, the resemblance is even more evident, as their second hemistiches are identical.

It is not clear who composed pseudo-Firdawsi’s verses, but based on copious research conducted on the Shahnama, we know that the Shahnama was not the only versified epic story known at the time. There were other epic stories, which despite their connections to the tales of the Shahnama, were not included in the Shahnama, partially or completely, such as the Banugushspnama, Faramarznama, and Shabrangnama.⁴⁷ The existence of these stories along with the increase in the popularity of epic verses, which can be understood from their insertions in non-epic works from the twelfth century onward, demonstrates that the Persian epic cycle was a fluid and long-enduring tradition.⁴⁸ Considering that JT’s pseudo-Firdawsian verses are, for the most part, intimately embedded in the contexts in which they appear and focused on Mongol battles, it is highly unlikely that these verses were chosen from the aforementioned epic stories. This leaves us with two other possibilities: either there had been a work narrating the history of the Ilkhanids from which Rashid al-Din selected the verses, or the verses were specifically composed to include them in JT by Rashid al-Din himself or his assistants. Versified epic stories were written about the Mongols, but based on the sources that have come down to us, none of them were composed before JT, and we do not have any evidence suggesting the existence of a Mongol versified epic written before JT. Thus, these epic tales could not have been the source for the pseudo-Firdawsian verses of JT.⁴⁹ In one of these epic chronicles, Ẓafarnama, the poet, Ḥamd Allah Mustawfi indicates that one of his reasons for undertaking the composition of such a work is that until then, nobody had written the history of Iran after the Islamic conquest in poetic form.⁵⁰ Given that he was one of Rashid al-Din’s proteges, he could possibly have been aware of Rashid al-Din’s project (and might have even had access to his sources), it is unlikely that Rashid al-Din selected the pseudo-Firdawsian verses from elsewhere.

Another similarity between these two categories is that sometimes they share the same set of qafiya and radif. Qafiya refers to the rhyming words in each verse, while radifs are the words or phrases which come after the qafiya. They are repeated in every verse and have the same meaning in all the verses of a poem.⁵¹ The following verses are examples of this type of similarity between Firdawsi’s verses and pseudo-Firdawsian verses. Firdawsi’s verse is:

Table

^52 جهان پیش چشم اندرش تیره گشت

11- چو بشنید رستم سرش خیره گشت

When Rustam heard, his head sat in a daze / as the whole world turned to darkness before his eyes.

While JT’s verse is:

Table

^53 ز گرد سواران فلک تیره گشت

12- برفتند و روی زمین خیره گشت

They went and all the earth sat in a daze / as the firmament turned to darkness from the dust kicked up by the riders.

Apart from this, the unknown poet(s) made use of a number of collocations in exactly the same way as in the Shahnama, often because those collocations not only added to the musical quality of the verses, but also to their rhetorical merit. Instances of these collocations are gardun-i gardan (the turning sphere), and khurshid-i rakhshan (the shining sun) which are repeatedly attested in the Shahnama as well as JT.

What I argue here based on the resemblance of these verses to those of the Shahnama is that the former, composed either by Rashid al-Din or an unknown poet, create a heroic atmosphere throughout the book similar to the atmosphere that Firdawsi provides in the Shahnama. Since the imitating verses only appear from the beginning of the section on the Ilkhanids onward, this heroic atmosphere is clearly meant to evoke the same feeling towards the Ilkhanids as was felt towards the Shahnama’s heroes. In other words, these verses depict the Mongols, particularly the Ilkhanids, as proto-typical heroes. The verses can be considered epic as well; epic not exactly in the sense of Ḥimasa, an epic work narrating the story of heroes and heroines, rather epic in the sense of having epic qualities or Ruḥ-i Ḥimasi. The word “epic” in English can be both a noun and an adjective; while the former refers to a genre, the other is used to describe something magnificent, or something related to heroism. In Persian, there are two words for these concepts: Ḥimasa is the heroic story of the formation of a nation or the unification of various groups of people, Ḥimasi is an adjective to describe a work with epic qualities. Therefore, when a poet praises his patron’s fighting skills and frequently applies hyperbole or relates boasts exchanged before a battle breaks out, he is composing a poem with epic qualities – even if that poem is written in the templates which are not usually used for an epic in Persian literature, like a qaṣida, a ghazal, or a qiṭʿa. Though having epic qualities is one of the most important characteristics of the poetry of tenth and eleventh centuries (i.e. the Khurasani style),⁵⁴ it continued to be attested, though less often, in Seljuq and Ilkhanid poetry as well. An example of this is a qaṣida from Ravandi, a twelfth century historiographer who wrote his work for Sultan Kaykhusraw of the Sultanate of Rum (1192-6,1205-11). The whole qaṣida contains numerous examples of epic quality, of which I only cite two verses which expound upon Sultan Kaykhusraw’s heroic acts:

Table

وزیشان زود خان و مان گرفته	13- بزخم تیغ داده دشمنان را
^55 دوان گرد جهان افغان گرفته	14- کمان گشته ز سهم یغلقت چرخ

He put unto the sword the enemies / and from them took with haste all that they had.

Atop your arrow, the sphere bends like a bow / and runs around the earth wailing in pain.

The epic quality of JT’s verses is also noticeable in the single verses that were often included in the battles. These single verses, known as “mufrads” in modern scholarship, do not relate a concrete story, but they certainly contribute to the heroic and epic atmosphere surrounding descriptions of the Mongol conquests. Mufrads were normally applied in didactic works. However, Rashid al-Din made use of them for another purpose as well; that is to create a mobile setting for his story.

Mobility is a contributing factor to the development of an epic quality in poetry which not only demonstrates itself in the setting of the story, but also in other ways, such as through images, use of language, and applied rhetorical figures. A renowned Iranian scholar, Mohammadreza Shafiei believes that a poetic image is constructed based on four elements: colour, shape, meaning, and movement.⁵⁶ While in lyric or panegyric poetry the elements of shape and colour seem to be more active, in epic poetry movement plays the major role. This is because the poet has to convey a sense of speed and motion to his readers. A survey which has been conducted on the vocabulary of the Shahnama demonstrates that a high frequency of words implying any kind of movement and speed contributes to developing epic quality and an epic atmosphere in the Shahnama.⁵⁷ These words can usually be found in war stories; heroes and kings participate in long battles whose descriptions are prevalent in epic works. In the case of the Ilkhanids, the Mongols are the kings and heroes. They shape the battles like the Iranian kings and heroes had done before them. The following verse from JT is a good indicator of the mobile aspect of the work:

Table

^58 گرت رای جنگ است یکدم به پای

15- درنگی مباش و بپوی و مپای

Do not hesitate, run and do not dawdle / if your intention is to go to war.

- Rhetorical Figures

Rhetorical figures have been in use for centuries by authors and poets consciously and unconsciously, but it was not until the Seljuq era that they were ordered and categorised as literary tools for Persian authors and poets. In this section, I will start by introducing these rhetorical works to demonstrate a fourteenth century author’s (like Rashid al-Din) understanding of these literary tools.⁵⁹ Further on, I will proceed to indicate how our current understanding of the field of balaghat differs from that of Rashid al-Din and lastly, how Rashid al-Din envisaged a method by applying the same rhetorical figures in a different way.

The oldest Persian source on rhetorical figures, Tarjuman al-Balagha, dates back to the eleventh century. It was written by Muḥammad ibn ʿUmar Raduyani and was based and inspired by the Arabic sources which were written on the similar topic, that is balaghat (rhetorics).⁶⁰ Consequently, two other sources were written on the same subject in the next two centuries, Ḥadaʾiq al-Siḥr fi Daqayiq al-Shiʿr⁶¹ and Al-Muʿjam fi Maʿayir al-Ashʿar al-ʿAjam. All these three books are considered the most important sources on Persian balaghat, though they do not classify rhetorical figures as modern scholars do. In modern books, the field of eloquence and rhetorical figures consist of two branches: bayan (statement) and badiʿ (rhetorical embellishment). The former covers tashbih (simile), istiʿara (metaphor), kinaya (metonymy), and majaz (trope), while the latter encompasses all the other figures of speech.⁶² Contrary to the modern sources, the aforementioned older sources do not employ this classification of rhetorical figures; they do make a difference between the topics of rhetorical figures and metres, but it is not until the thirteenth century that bayan and badiʿ were recognised as distinct branches within this field.⁶³

That being said, the most noticeable of the methods frequently employed in JT, lays somewhat in the middle of the abovementioned branches. It is neither tashbih nor istiʿara. This method, which I call “context alteration”, makes use of allegory and simile at the same time, though not in the way that one might expect. Before discussing how this and the other rhetorical figures mentioned above were used in JT, I would like to discuss what these rhetorical figures mean.

In Persian, tashbih means to make an analogy between two things.⁶⁴ Although tashbih has been mostly identified with simile in English, simile does not refer to all types of tashbih. According to The Princeton Encyclopaedia of Poetry and Poetics, simile “is a figure of speech most conservatively defined as an explicit comparison using like or as”.⁶⁵ This definition, which is based on using comparison words, such as like and as, includes only one type of tashbih⁶⁶ in Persian and forsakes all the other types. Due to the closeness of various types of tashbih, some of them come under the definition of metaphor⁶⁷ in English and others under the definition of trope.⁶⁸ That is why in this study, I have chosen to use the Persian word for them to avoid any kind of confusion and ambiguity.

The method of context alteration had long been in use before JT. Authors use poetry to prove a point or to support what they had said in their works. This method, called Shahid-i Misal in Persian (which can be roughly translated as “poetic proof”), is sometimes used alongside an acknowledgment of the poet and sometimes not. Acknowledgment often occurs when the poet himself is considered particularly prestigious. In such cases, the author’s argument seems to be doubly convincing; not only does the concept of the verse strengthen the author’s argument, but the evidence was also provided by a well-respected person. The main function of Shahid-i Misal is to provide poetic support for the story which is being narrated and its message is primarily didactic, as in the following example:

Table

سر مایه کارها بنگرد	16- هر آنکس که دارد روانش خرد
^69 نگه کرد باید برون آمدن	17- به کاری که خواهی تو اندر شدن

Everyone with wisdom in their soul / considers matters with reason. // Into every matter in which you wish to engage / you must enter with awareness.

These verses can be found in the story of Chingiz Khan and Sultan Muḥammad Khvarazmshah, when Sultan Muḥammad confiscated the commodities of the merchants sent by Chingiz Khan and subsequently killed them. In other words, Sultan Muḥammad did not take a second to think about the consequences of this action which is exactly the message that these two verses convey: that one who has wisdom will think about the consequences. Apart from the fact that the poetic proof for this story was picked from the most renowned Persian epic story, the Shahnama – which on its own, situates readers’ minds in a heroic atmosphere – there are also other examples of shahid-i misal which are more connected to the stories of the Shahnamah. The following verse is an example of how a shahid-i misal can contribute to the expound upon ideology in JT:

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^70 هنر عیب گردد چو برگشت هور

18 – ز بیژن فزون بود هومان به زور

Human was more powerful than Bizhan / skill becomes a fault when the sun (fortune) turns its back on you.

This verse whose origin was earlier discussed,⁷¹conveys a type of message that if not considered didactic, is certainly related to kingship. The message is the precedence of fortune over skill. In this case, the verse appears after the battle between a person of the Suldus, Chilaʾuqun, and the king of Tayichiʾut, Tarqutay Qiriltuq. The former, according to Rashid al-Din, was less skilful than the king of Taychiʾut, but because he had fortune, he prevailed over his technically superior opponent. As can be seen, this shahid-i misal provides a stronger connection to the heroic stories of the Shahnama.

So far, I have explored one way of context alteration (i.e. shahid-i misal) which mostly served to convey a particular message. The second way this method is applied in JT is associated, above all, with allegory and simile. Allegory in English can be defined as either “an entire work of art” or as “arbitrary interpretation, where something is read as ‘an allegory’ of something else”.⁷² It is usually translated as “tams̠il” in Persian, but the rhetorical figure of tams̠il, otherwise known as irsal al-masal, is not related to allegory at all; rather it should be translated as a proverb or a famous didactic saying. In all three of our older sources, tamsil is defined as including a proverb in a verse.⁷³ Outside the field of eloquence, tamsil, or dastan-i tamsili (allegorical story) is identical to allegory in English: a work (or a story) that can be read as something else.⁷⁴ In JT, however, we do not have a complete story in the verses; there are mostly single verses cherry picked from other stories, which in this case study are the stories of the Shahnama. So what method are we dealing with here? To answer that, I would like to investigate a verse from JT:

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^75 همی رای شمشیر و تیر آمدش

19- هنوز از دهن بوی شیر آمدش

Even with the smell of milk still on his breath, / his thoughts raced to the sword and arrow.

This verse, composed by Firdawsi, was picked from the story of Rustam and Suhrab. Suhrab is famous for his early maturity and showing signs of strength, though he was only a child. When he was only 14, he went to fight the greatest warrior of the Shahnama, Rustam, and nearly defeated him. There are plenty of reasons why the story is among the most important and best-known stories of the Shahnama, even to this day. Suhrab was the son of Rustam, who is present in most stories of the heroic part of the Shahnama. Suhrab, taking after his father, was also described as invincible. Since Rustam left Suhrab’s mother during her pregnancy, he never got the chance to know his son. Thus, when Rustam encountered Suhrab, they were not aware of their relationship. The death of Suhrab by the hands of his own father, and Rustam’s regret upon finding out that Suhrab was his son, makes this story a great tragedy as well as great entertainment, hence its fame. In JT, this verse was included in the section on Ghazan’s childhood which introduces him as a natural warrior; a quality which not only befits him as a king, but also as a ghazi, a person who fights for Islam. Therefore, an analogy between Ghazan and Suhrab can be deduced from the verse.

Having looked at this verse, we can now see that despite having some recognisable features of both, it is neither tamsil nor tashbih. It definitely has some of the required characteristics of both, but considering the older sources on Persian eloquence, it does not fit neatly into their categorizations.⁷⁶ Overall, this device is still a methods of context alteration mixed with common rhetorical figures, though in an innovative way which serves the ideological purposes of the book.

Another instance of this type of context alteration is the following verse:

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به فرمان و رایت سرافکنده ایم

20- که تو شهریاری و ما بنده ایم

Because you are the sovereign and we are the servants, / we bow our heads to your command and whim.

This verse is selected from the story of Khusraw I of the Sasanians (531-579) and his battle with the Hephthalites, also known as White Huns. They ruled over Central Asia during the fifth to eighth centuries.⁷⁷ A significant part of the Shahnama is the story of their interactions and conflicts with the Sasanian kings. This verse is spoken by a group of Khusraw I’s commanders announcing their support for war with the Hephthalites. Rashid al-Din includes this verse when Abaqa, the second Ilkhanid ruler, asks for the support of his commanders to go to war with Baraq, the khan of the Chaghatayid ulus. Therefore, we can see that the same incident echoed in the events happening here: a clash between Iran and Central Asia and thus, drawing an analogy between Abaqa and the ancient Iranian King, Khusraw I on the one hand, and between Baraq and the Hephthalites on the other

Some of the verses that were chosen from the Shahnama and were interpolated in JT are attested in other historical sources as well; an example of which is the last verse that is also included in Tarikh-i Jahangusha. In order to investigate how Rashid al-Din’s treatment of the Shahnama verses differs from those of his contemporaries, I will take a look at two other sources of Mongol history, Tarikh-i Jahangusha and Tarikh-i Vaṣṣaf.

Innovation and/or Continuation: Juvaini’s and Vaṣsaf’s Treatment of Shahnama Verses

Tarikh-i Jahangusha (History of the World Conqueror) is the first source written for the Mongols about the Mongol conquest. The author, ʿAṭamalik Javaini, was born in 1226 to a wealthy family who had worked in the administrations of the Seljuqs and the Khvaramshahids for generations. His father was in the service of the rulers of Khurasan appointed by the Mongols: Chin Timur, Korguz, and Arghun Aqa. ʿAṭamalik entered the latter’s service in 1246 and consequently accompanied him on his travel to the Mongol capital, Qaraqorum. It is presumed that during his stay in Qaraqorum, he was persuaded by his friends to write the history of the Mongol conquests.⁷⁸ He finished his book around 1260 and dedicated his book to the first Ilkhan, Hülegü. Although he accompanied Hülegü to Baghdad where he subsequently became governor, he did not include an account on the fall of the caliphate (1258) and ended the book with the destruction of the Ismailis strongholds (1256).⁷⁹

Unlike JT, whose text is not difficult to understand, Juvaini’s style of writing is a perfect example of what modern scholars call nasr-i fanni (rhetorical prose). In his work, Juvaini not only uses Turkic and Mongolian words frequently, but also unfamiliar Arabic words as well. Moreover, examples of the interpolation of the poetic verses and Quranic verses are abundant.⁸⁰ The book contains 442 Persian verses; 80 of which were composed by Firdawsi, mostly chosen from two famous stories of the Shahnama, the battle of Rustam and Suhrab, and the battle of Rustam and Isfandiyar.⁸¹ These verses cover a wide range of themes, such as fatalism, didactic notions, descriptions of nature, and of course, heroic images. The latter is where Juvaini’s usage of Shahnama verses differ from that of his predecessors.

There are not many references to the Shahnama in the works of Firdawsi’s contemporaries. The first references made to the Shahnama in the twelfth and thirteenth centuries are found in the biographies of poets, books on eloquence, and the works known as “mirrors for princes”. The Shahnama is mentioned in these works usually because of either its literary value or its didactic aspects. However, not all of the medieval authors who borrowed verses from the Shahnama, picked the verses directly from the Shahnama. As early as the eleventh century, compilations of selected verses of the Shahnama were produced which aided authors in selecting verses based on their topic. However, these verses mostly covered topics such as kingship, fatalism, praising God and Muḥammad, praising virtues and giving advice, descriptions of nature, and more rarely, important battles. Later on, Shahnama verses started to appear in historical works, such as the twelfth century history of the Seljuqs, Raḥat al-Ṣudur, or Mujmal al-Tavarikh va al-Qiṣaṣ, written in the same century.⁸²

Given that the Shahnama was understood primarily as a book of advice by medieval Persian authors, Juvaini’s usage of the heroic verses of the Shahnama can be understood as the author’s own innovation. From the 80 verses of the Shahnama that are attested in Juvaini’s work, 11 verses were also employed in JT, 10 of which appear in the same contexts, that is the story of the Khvarazmshahids (in particular, Sultan Muḥammad and Sultan Jalal al-Din). In such cases, not only are the verses the same, but also the phrasing of the stories is similar to JT as well. In other words, for the story of the Khvarazmshahids, Tarikh-i Jahangusha was Rashid al-Din’s source for both prose and poetry.

The only Shahnama verse that is included in a different context compared to its peer in JT is also the only verse that was slightly modified by Juvaini in order to match the context:⁸³

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^84 بفرمان و رایت سرافکنده ایم

21- پدر شهریارست و ما بنده ایم

Father is the sovereign, and we are the servants; / we bow our heads to your command and whim.

This verse, which was discussed in the last section of this article, was included in the section on the reign of Abaqa in JT. However, Juvaini interpolates this verse in the narration of the story in which Chingiz gathers his sons and appoints Ögedei as his successor. While the original verse of the Shahnama lacks the word “pidar”(father), Juvaini added this word to the verses, thereby modifying it to agree with the context.⁸⁵ As far as Shahnama verses go, this is the only time that Juvaini exploits Firdawsi’s work to connect the Mongols to the Shahnama.

The second source whose treatment of Shahnama verses I will examine, is Tajziyat al-Amṣar va Tazjiyat al-Aʿṣar (The allocation of cities and propulsion of epochs), better known by its author’s name, Tarikh-i Vaṣṣaf al-Ḥażrat. The author, ʿAbd Allah ibn Fażl Allah Shirazi, often referred to as Vaṣṣaf al-Ḥażrat (court panegyrist), was born in Shiraz in 1265. Not much is known about his life, except what he tells us about himself in his work. He served as an administrator in the court of the Salghurids of Fars (1148-1282) and he met his future patron, Rashid al-Din, during his stay in Tabriz.⁸⁶ It was through his relationship with the latter that he managed to present the first volume of his book to Ghazan in 1303.⁸⁷ His book, as he states, is a sequel to Tarikh-i Jahangusha, and as such it starts with the fall of Baghdad in 1258.⁸⁸ It contains a history of the Mongols, as well as histories of some local dynasties, such as: the Salghurids, the Shabankarids. After the completion of the fourth volume, Vaṣṣaf presented his work to Öljeitü in 1312, which apparently pleased the Ilkhan.⁸⁹ Like his predecessor, Juvaini, Vaṣṣaf’s style of writing is also considered an example of nasr-i fanni. However, because of its prolixity and ample use of Arabic phrases, Quranic verses, and poetry, it is an incredibly difficult text to comprehend. The author himself was a poet and many of the poems found in his book, either in Persian or in Arabic, are his own compositions.⁹⁰

In terms of Vaṣṣaf’s treatment of Shahnama verses, he employs 107 verses from the Shahnama, most of which are from the heroic section.⁹¹ Like Juvaini’s treatment, Vaṣṣaf’s verses of the Shahnama deal with a variety of concepts, like fatality, descriptions, and heroic verses. However, what is most important here is that only one of these verses is employed by Rashid al-Din as well. In other words, Vaṣṣaf and Rashid al-Din both exploited Firdawsi’s verses in their own way. While Vaṣṣaf included Firdawsi’s verses mostly because of the added literary value to his text, Rashid al-Din interpolated those to suit his ideological purposes.

There is one aspect of the exploitation of poetry that is shared by both Rashid al-Din and Vaṣṣaf; namely, the insertion of imitations of Firdawsi. We have seen in the second section of this article how Rashid al-Din included 43 verses which were similar to Firdawsi’s verses and yet, not from Firdawsi himself. Comparable to his patron, Vaṣṣaf also includes pseudo-Firdawsian lines. This practice is most apparent in the fourth volume of his work, where he composes two poems in such a style. The first one he includes in the passage on the battle against the Mamluks during the reign of Ghazan, where according to Vaṣsaf, a commander, Chupan, is fighting courageously. The text preceding the poem is replete with rhetorical figures, especially tashbih. Given that this text is a description of Chupan’s heroism in battle narrated in a literary manner, the poem is actually a thematic continuation of the text. It consists of eight verses, all of which describe Rustam and his deeds in the Shahnama, now applied to draw an analogy between Rustam and the Mongol commander, Chupan.⁹²

The second poem is inserted in the section on the death of Timur Qaʾan, the ruler of Yuan China (r.1294-1307). For this occasion, Vaṣṣaf composes a poem in the style of Firdawsi in 46 verses, all of which focus on the concept of fatalism. In this rather long poem, Vaṣṣaf refers to the Shahnama’s figures as well as the dynasties of Islamic era, such as the Seljuqs, down to the Mongols themselves. The core concept is the transience of the world, that nothing, not even the most powerful dynasties, will last forever; a concept which is repeated frequently in the Shahnama as well.

Considering that these sources were not written in the same period, it is clear that they did not share an identical goal. Juvaini wrote his history when the Mongols were not yet Muslims, while Rashid al-Din’s and Vaṣṣaf’s works belong to the period of Ilkhanid conversion to Islam. However different, these sources have something in common: in terms of their use of the Shahnama, they are all part of a process; a process of introducing the Mongols, particularly the Ilkhanids, as successors of the ancient Iranian kings. As I noted earlier, the process of applying Shahnama verses had started long before the Mongols. However, with the emergence of the Ilkhanids, it took another turn; while the Shahnama had been largely seen as a book of advice for kings, the Mongol-era authors concentrated on its heroic capacity as well. That is why we can see that the majority of the verses applied by Juvaini are from the two most heroic stories of the Shahnama, the battle of Rustam and Suhrab, and the battle of Rustam and Isfandiyar.

That being said, it does not mean that all three of these authors treated the Shahnama in exactly the same manner; rather, they all applied their own innovations. Juvaini primarily employs verses from the famous stories of the Shahnama, many of which include the names of Iranian heroes and kings, thus making a direct link between the Mongols and the heroes of the Shahnama. However, this link does not necessarily make for a strong analogy – unlike that drawn by JT, whose analogies were formed based on several common factors between the two objects of comparison. For example, let us take another look at the verses borrowed both by Juvaini and Rashid al-Din, numbers 20 and 21 above. The only common ground for Juvaini to form an analogy between the original context of the verse in the Shahnama and the context in Tarikh-i Jahangusha is the concept of obedience indicated by the verse. In contrast, in JT, not only is the concept under observation in the verses the same, but also the relationship between the person in command and his servants, the purpose of the conversation, and the geographical location of the parties described: Abaqa is a ruler, so is Khusraw I; Abaqa discusses a matter war with his commanders, so does Khusraw I; Abaqa’s enemy resides in the east, so does Khusraw I’s enemy.

JT takes something of a middle path in terms of introducing the Mongols as the successors of Iranian kings. While Juvaini’s attention was focused on using actual verses from the Shahnama, Rashid al-Din paid attention to the Shahnama as a model for emulation as well. Vaṣṣaf also contributes to this activity. Pseudo-Firdawsian verses are attested throughout Tarikh-i Vaṣsaf. While there are not many of these verses in the first volume, they increase in the fourth volume, where there are two whole poems written by Vaṣṣaf himself in the style of the Shahnama. The fourth volume of Vaṣṣaf’s book was written after JT’s first volume and unlike Vaṣṣaf’s first three volumes, which were written outside of court patronage, the fourth volume enjoyed royal patronage. That is why I place JT halfway through this process. Along with the increased tendency to interpolate the Shahnama verses in historical works, versified histories were also composed in emulation of the Shahnama; all of which demonstrates the same attitude among the Ilkhanid historiographers and poets regarding the Shahnama and its link with the Ilkhanids.⁹³

Conclusion

“How did Rashad al-Din legitimize his Ilkhanid patrons?”. I have come back to the very question that was proposed at the beginning of the article. Considering the numerous aspects of JT, I narrowed down my scope only to its poetical aspect, an aspect which fills the gap between propositional and non-propositional forms of demonstration of power and legitimacy. The article indicates that the poetry of JT meant to portray the Ilkhanids as if they were cut of the same cloth as the ancient Iranian kings. Heroism, having a huge impact on readers especially when read out loud, was carefully knitted in the verses by using literary devices, such as tashbih and tamsil and its spirit can be felt throughout the verses of JT; the same atmosphere that was set up by Firdawsi some 400 years earlier. Rashid al-Din’s project of drawing the Ilkhanids near to the ancient Iranian kings was not unique. The process began earlier with the increasing interpolation of Firdawsi’s verses in historical books written for the Ilkhanids as well as the massive production of Shahnama manuscripts and engraving of Shahnama verses on artistic production. Proposing an innovative poetic method, Rashid al-Din includes pseudo-Firdawsian verses along with Shahnama verses in JT to provoke the same feeling toward the Ilkhanids as the ancient Iranian kings. The method continued to be used by Vaṣṣaf in the fourth volume of his book. Therefore, this article was an attempt to show that poetry in the hands of a historian is more than a means for embellishment; rather it is a device used for historical and ideological purposes. In other words, just like the phrase “History as Literature”, introduced by Julie Meisami⁹⁴ to investigate the poetical decorations in historical books, the phrase “Literature as History” can be introduced here as well. For in JT, poetry as a type of literature appears to be a vital part of legitimisation of the Ilkhanids.

Disclosure statement

No potential conflict of interest was reported by the author(s).

Additional information

Funding

This work was supported by Nederlandse Organisatie voor Wetenschappelijk Onderzoek: [grant number 277-69-001].

Notes

1 Kamola, Making Mongol History. This question is also the centre of his doctoral dissertation: “Rashid al-Din and the Making of History”.

2 Brack, “Mediating Sacred Kingship”.

3 Al-Azmeh, Muslim Kingship, ix.

4 Ibid, 132.

5 Rashid al-Din himself has drawn our attention to the importance of poetry in shaping the cultural memory as well. In his introduction, he indicates that the good name of Maḥmud of Ghazna has remained because of the works of poets such as Firdawsi and ʿUnṣuri. Rashid al-Din, Jamiʿ al-Tavarikh, 32.

6 Thus, in this article, when I refer to JT, I mean the first volume; unless indicated otherwise.

7 Rashid al-Din, JT, 7.

8 The main focus of this article is on the Firdawsian and Pseudo-Firdawsian verses. The rest will be discussed in my forthcoming dissertation.

9 For more on this, see: Brack, “Mediating Sacred Kingship”.

10 For the conversion of Ghazan by a Sufi, Shaikh Ṣadr al-Din Ibrahim, see: Melville, “Padshah-i Islam”; Amitai-Preiss, “Ghazan, Islam, and Mongol Tradition”.

11 For conversion narratives and their importance see: Pfeiffer, “The Canonization of Cultural Memory”.

12 Gnoli, “Farr(ah)”.

13 Faravashi, Karnama-yi Ardashir-i Babakan, 39–40. For more on this, see: Canepa, “Sasanian Rock reliefs”.

14 Xwarrah-i Ohrmazd

15 Airyanąm xvarǝno

16 Kavem xvarǝno

17 Amoozegar, “Farrah, In Niru-yi Jaduyi va Asimani,” 33–5; Matloubkari, Daramadi bar Mabani-yi Mashruʿiyat, 111–3. Some of these farrahs were mentioned in Avesta (see: Yt, XVIII.1 & Yt, XIX.9), others were Mostly Deductions of Zoroastrian Priests.

18 A similar concept of divine mandate can also be attested in the Orkhon inscription (8th century), so we can assume that the concept of divine mandate was totally comprehensible to the Mongols. Additionally, this concept seems to have been abundantly present in pre-Mongol works, such as Chinese sources, to the point that some scholars, such as Igor de Rachewiltz and Peter Jackson, have discussed the possibility that the Mongols got this idea from the Chinese sedentary society with whom they had interacted. See: Rachewiltz, “Some Remarks on the Ideological Foundation,” 24; Jackson, The Mongols and the West, 45. Moreover, the concept of “heavenly mandate” has been also discussed by Jonathan Skaff, where he explains the common features of this ideology with that of Chinese dynasties, in particular, the Sui and Tang. (Skaff, “Ideology and Interstate Competition,” 109–12.)

19 Rashid al-Din, JT, 492.

20 بخت

21 اقبال

22 دولت

23 The quriltai was a formal gathering among the Mongols to consult for important matters at hand, such as succession, war, etc. Chingizid family, imperial son in laws and commanders were usually present in quriltais which included feasting and drinking as well as consultation. (Hodous, “The Quriltai as a Legal Institution,” 88–9). See also: Atwood, “quriltai,” 462–4.

24 I am grateful to my fellow project members, Nicholas Kontovas and Tobias Jones for assisting me in translation of the verses.

25 This verse was originally composed by Azraqi for Ṭughanshah ibn Alp Arslan of the Seljuqs, when he moved to his new palace.

26 In order to avoid confusion, JT’s verses which are discussed in this article, are numbered.

27 Saliba, “The Role of the Astrologer,” 57–8.

28 Rashid al-Din, JT, 1064.

29 Ibid, 1063.

30 Tarjuma-yi Tarikh-i Yamini is a translation of an Arabic history of the Ghaznavids, Tarikh-i ʿUtbi. The translation was carried out by Jurfazqani, a scribe in the court of the Seljuq ruler, Ṭughril ibn Arsalan. For more, see: Daniel, “The Rise and Development,” 116–8.

31 Juvaini, Tarikh-i Jahangusha, vol.2, 99.

32 Rashid al-Din, JT, 421.

33 Ibid., 316.

34 Firdawsi, Shahnama, vol.4, 52.

35 Rashid al-Din, Tarikh-i Salaṭin-i Khvarazm, 12.

36 Prods Oktor Skjaervo, “Jamŝid”.

37 The terminology which was used in the Shahnama indicating Jamshid’s loss of fortune is also intriguing: به جمشید بر تیره گون گشت روز/ همی کاست آن فر گیتی فروز . Similar to the fourth studied verse of JT, Firdawsi also applies the word ruz (time) as well as far here. Firdawsi, Shahnama, vol.1, 45.

38 The figure of Jamshid is also attested in the section regarding Ghazan’s ascension in Tarikh-i Vaṣṣaf. See: Vaṣṣaf, Tarikh-i Vaṣṣaf, 324.

39 Rashid al-Din, JT, 28. On the astrological level, the sun is in the fourth sphere orbiting around the earth. In Persian literature, it became more than just a heavenly body, but a symbol for a powerful ruler. This connection is also depicted in artistic production offered to kings, governors and other important officials. For more on this, see: Carboni, Following the Stars, 9.

40 Rashid al-Din, JT, 5.

41 Due to the limited space of this article, I will only focus on Firdawsi’s verses and his imitations. The other verses will be analysed in my dissertation.

42 Firdawsi, Shahnama, vol.5, 227. The verse is in the beginning of the story of Isfandiyar’s seven trials when he chooses the dangerous path over the easy but long one.

43 Rashid al-Din, JT, 19. The verse is included in the section on the conquest of Diyarbakr by the Mongols.

44 Firdawsi, Shahnama, vol.3, 165.

45 Rashid al-Din, JT, 1011.

46 For example, see: Firdawsi, Shahnama, vol.7, 123 & 132.

47 For more on these epic stories see: Safa, Ḥimasa-sarayi dar Iran.

48 van Zutphen, “Faramarz’s Expedition to Qannuj and Khargah,” 76.

49 For more on the versified epic stories of the Mongol period, see: Melville, “Between Firdausi and Rashid al-Din,” 45–56.

50 Mustawfi, Ẓafarnama, 7.

51 This characteristic is mostly limited to Persian poetry, though examples of it can be attested in Turkic poetry after the 13th century as well, which may have been the result of the influence of Persian poetry. (Shafiei Kadkani, Musiqi-yi Shiʿr, 123–5.)

52 Firdawsi, Shahnama, vol.2, 186.

53 Rashid al-Din, JT, 875.

54 For more on various styles of Persian poetry and their characteristics, see: Shamisa, Sabkshinasi-yi Shiʿr.

55 Ravandi, Raḥat al-Ṣudur, 28.

56 Shafiei Kadkani, Ṣuvar-i Khiyal, 261.

57 See: Jahedjah and Rezaei, “Dayira-yi Vajigan,” 47–62.

58 Rashid al-Din, JT, 885.

59 Rashid al-Din may or may not have accessed these sources, but these sources shaped the understanding of the time of the field of balaghat.

60 For more on the field of eloquence, see: de Bruijn, “Balāḡat”; de Bruijn, “Badīʿ”.

61 For more on this see: Chalisova, “Ḥadāʾeq al-Siḥr”.

62 See: Homayi, Funun-i Balaghat; Shamisa, Bayan; Shamisa, Nigahi Taza bi Badiʿ.

63 de Bruijn, “Bayān (1)”.

64 Raduyani, Tarjuman al-Balagha, 44; Vaṭvaṭ, Ḥadaʾiq al-Siḥr, 42; Razi, Al-Mu’jam, 318.

65 Brogen and Smith Richmond, “Simile,” 1306.

66 Tashbih-i ṣariḥ

67 See: Martin, “Metaphor,” 863–870.

68 See: Bahti and Mann, “Trope,” 1463–4.

69 Rashid al-Din, JT, 423. The first line is originally from the Shahnama (Firdawsi, Shahnama, vol.5, 323).

70 Rashid al-Din, JT, 164.

71 The same verse is discussed before (verse number 5) in the section on fortune.

72 Teskey, “Allegory,” 37.

73 Raduyani, Tarjuman al-Balagha, 83; Vaṭvaṭ, Ḥadaʾiq al-Siḥr, 55–6; Razi, Al-Muʾjam, 339–40.

74 For more on parables and allegorical stories in Persian, see: de Bruijn, “Fiction I: Traditional Forms”.

75 Rashid al-Din, JT, 1067. The verse is picked from the Shahnama (Firdawsa, Shahnama, vol.2, 128.)

76 Sirous Shamisa, an Iranian scholar who has conducted extensive research on Persian eloquence, has included a type of tashbih in his classification which comes close to what I mean here. He calls it tashbih-i tamsil, and it refers to a type of tashbih when mushabbahun bih (the second side of tashbih) is a proverb, anecdote, or a story. The only difficulty in drawing a direct equivalency between this concept and the one I put forth here is that, though similar to what I propose here, tashbih-i tamsil is still formed based on the normal structure of tashbih. In other words, it possesses mushabbah (the first side), mushabbahun bih (the second side), vajh-i shabah (the factor of similarity, common ground), and adat-i tashbih (the word or the phrase used to indicate resemblance). In JT’s verses, the text is constructed in such a way that the readers would deduce this comparison on their own. See: Shamisa, Bayan, 104–5.

77 On the Hephthalites and their relationship with the Sasanians, see: Rezakhani, Reorienting the Sasanians.

78 Juvaini, Tarikh-i Jahangusha, 2–3. For more on the author’s life, see the editor’s introduction as well as: Lane, “Jovayni, ʿAlāʾ al-Din”.

79 There is, though, an appendix on the conquest of Baghdad, written by Khvaja Naṣir al-Din Ṭusi, at the end of some of Tarikh-i Jahangusha’s manuscripts. This account can be found in Qazvini’s edition as well, 280–92.

80 For more on Juvaini’s style see: Bahar, Sabkshinasi-yi nasr, vol.3, 53–94; For more on nasr-i fanni, see: Shamisa, Sabkshinasi-yi nasr, 91–131, 178–188.

81 To know more about the verses and their poets see the annotations of Mohammad Qazvini on Tarikh-i Jahangusha. For the numbers see: Askari, The Medieval reception of the Shāhnāma, 344–8; Alavizadeh, Saket, and Radmehr, “Naqsh-i Abyat-i Shahnama,” 99.

82 Askari, The Medieval reception of the Shāhnāma, 40–68.

83 For comparing the Shahnama verses in Tarikh-i Jahangusha and their recording forms in various editions of the Shahnama, see: Sajjadi, “Shahnama dar Tarikh-i Jahangusha,” 241–60; to know more about Juvaini’s alterations to the Shahnama verses and his purpose, see: Melikian-Chirvani, “Le Livre des Rois,” 54–74.

84 Juvaini, Tarikh-i Jahangusha, vol.1, 143.

85 Modifying verses to suit a particular purpose was not an innovation of Juvaini but was a common practice among scholars, especially from the Seljuq era onwards. Early examples of this practice can be found in Raḥat al-Ṣudur, a dynastic history of the Seljuqs, written by Ravandi in the early years of the 13th century (for this see: Meisami, “Ravandi’s Raḥat al-Ṣudur,” 198–9; and “Ravandi, Niżami, and the Rhetoric of History” by the same author). This method continued to be practiced in later periods as well. An illuminating instance of which is a Timurid history, Żafarnama, written by ʿAli Yazdi where the author applies the Shahnama verses, sometimes with modification, to make allegories between the Shahnama kings and those of the Timurids (see: Melville, “ʿAli Yazdi and the Shahname”).

86 Sharafi, Zindigi, Zamana va Tarikhnigari-yi Vaṣṣaf, 23–5.

87 To know more about the book’s presentation, see: Vaṣṣaf, Tarikh-i Vaṣṣaf, 405–8.

88 Ibid, 4–6.

89 Ibid, 544.

90 For more on his style, see: Hajiannezhad, Tarikh-i Vaṣsaf, xxv–xxxvii; Sharafi, Zindigi Zamana va Tarikhnigari-yi Vaṣṣaf, 45–53.

91 For more on these verses and their origin, see: Kardgar, “Shahnama dar Tarikh-i Vaṣsaf,” 125.

92 Vaṣṣaf, Tarikh-i Vaṣṣaf, 411.

93 Although I have only concentrated on poetry and its role in legitimizing the Ilkhanids, poetry is only a small arena that links the Ilkhanids to the Shahnama and the ancient Iranian kings. The same link can also be drawn out from paintings and manuscript production as well. The Ilkhanid era was accompanied by a profusion of Shahnama manuscripts, many of which include images. Furthermore, some manuscripts of JT contain images as well where ancient Iranian kings were portrayed with features usually attributed to Turko-Mongol rulers. Art historians such as Carole Hillenbrand, Robert Hillenbrand, Sheila Blair, Oleg Grabar, and David Rice have explored this subject. For more on this, see: Rice, The Illustrations; Hillenbrands, “Ancient Iranian Kings”; Blair, “Illustrating History”; Grabar and Blair, Epic Images. Architecture was also another arena where this link to ancient Iran can be understood. Abaqa’s palace, Takht-i Sulayman was built on the ruins of a Sasanian fire temple decorated by tileworks on which Shahnama verses were engraved alongside pictures of Sasanian kings. For more on this, see: O’Kane, “Persian Poetry on Ilkhanid Art”.

94 Meisami, “History as Literature”.