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YAGHNOBI

ROLAND BIELMEIER term for a people and their language, derived from the name of the Yaghnob valley and the Yaghnob river in Tajikistan.

YĀḤAQQI, ḤOSAYN

MORTEŻĀ ḤOSEYNI DEHKORDI

(1903-1968) renowned composer and performer of the violin and the kamānča (spiked fiddle) and instructor of music.

YAHYA TEPE

CROSS-REFERENCE archeological site in the Soḡun valley, Kerman province, ca. 220 km south of Kerman and 130 km north of the Straits of Hormuz. See TEPE YAHYA.

YAḴČĀL

HEMMING JØRGENSEN

Iranian ice-houses were facilities for the storage of solid ice, ensuring that ice was available for local distribution during the summer; they were not used for refrigerating foodstuff. In its simplest form, the yaḵčāl was a storage pit dug in the ground, and covered with straw, rush, and earth for protection and insulation against sunshine and heat.

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YAʿQUB B. LAYṮ B. MOʿADDAL

C. EDMUND BOSWORTH

(r. 247-65/861-79), founder of what may be distinguished as the Laythids, or the “first line” within the Saffarid dynasty.

YARKAND

PAVEL LURJE a town in Chinese Turkestan, at the southwestern end of the Tarim Basin (38°27' N, 77°16' E; alt. 1,190 m).

YĀSĀ

P. JACKSON

A term used of individual edicts issued by Čengiz Khan and his successors and sometimes of the entire body of such edicts.

YASNA

WILLIAM W. MALANDRA the name for the central ritual in Zoroastrianism and for the long liturgical text recited during the daily performance of the ritual.

YAŠTS

ALMUT HINTZE the group of 21 Avestan hymns in praise of various deities of the Zoroastrian pantheon. In principle, each is entirely devoted to the praise of one particular deity and can be recited by any member of the community, priest or layperson, male or female

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YAZD IV. THE JEWISH DIALECT OF YAZD

THAMAR E. GINDIN

YAZDEGERD I

A. SHAPUR SHAHBAZI

Sasanian King of kings (r. 399-420) called “the Sinner.” Sasanian- based sources judge Yazdegerd as a tyrant.

YAZDEGERD II

TOURAJ DARYAEE

Sasanian king, whose reign is marked by wars with Byzantium in the west and the Hephthalites in the east. He stayed in the east for some years fighting the nomadic tribes and is known for imposing Zoroastrianism in Armenia.

YAZICI, TAHSIN

OSMAN G. ÖZGÜDENLI

(1922-2002), Turkish scholar of Persian language, literature, and culture. During fifty-five years of scholarship, Yazıcı wrote, translated, and edited many books and articles. His translations from Persian into Turkish include Aflāki’s Manāqeb al-ʿārefin, the Persian version of Abu’l-Qāsem Qošayri’s Resāla, and the Aḥwāl-e Mawlānā of Faridun b. Aḥmad Sepahsālār.

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YAZIDIS I. GENERAL

CHRISTINE ALLISON

The Yazidis are a heterodox Kurdish religious minority living predominantly in northern Iraq, Syria, and southeast Turkey, with well-established communities in the Caucasus and a growing European diaspora.

YAZIDIS II. INITIATION IN YAZIDISM

PHILIP G. KREYENBROEK

Three different rites can mark the initiation of a Yazidi child as a member of the community.

YEKI BUD, YEKI NABUD EIR the first collection of modern Persian short stories, and, arguably the foremost work by the eminent fiction writer Mohammad Ali Jamalzadeh (1892-1997).

YEŊ́HĒ HĀTĄM

CHRISTOPHER J. BRUNNER one of the four major Zoroastrian ritual prayers or mantras.

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YIMA

CROSS-REFERENCE

Avestan name of Jamšid, a mythical king of Iran. See JAMŠID.

YUSOF

CROSS-REFERENCE son of the biblical patriarch Jacob. The story of Joseph has always been a source of attractive subject matters for the exegetists of the Qurʾān, poets, miniaturists, and popular tales. See JOSEPH.

YUSOF O ZOLAYḴĀ

CROSS-REFERENCE

A love story with religious overtones, the romance of Yusof and Zolayḵā has always been among the very favorite themes of Persian poets who, with direct or oblique references to its various episodes, created a desired imagery, expanded on a particular point in the poem, conveyed a poetic meassage or reinforced it. See JOSEPH i. IN PERSIAN LITERATURE.

YUSOFI, GHOLAM-HOSAYN

FARHAD ATAI prominent scholar of Persian literature and history, literary critic, and outstanding university professor.

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YOM LE’YOM

MUSIC SAMPLE

Y~ CAPTIONS OF ILLUSTRATIONS

CROSS-REFERENCE list of all the figure and plate images in the Y entries

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YAGHNOBI term for a people and their language, derived from the name of the Yaghnob valley and the Yaghnob river in Tajikistan.

YAGHNOBI, term used as a noun to refer to a people and as an adjective to designate their language (yaγnobīˊ zivók “Yaghnobi language”). It is derived from the name of the Yaghnob valley and the Yaghnob river, which, according to Khromov (1987, p. 644), is a Tajik adaption of the Yaghnobi phrase ix-i nou “ice valley or ravine.” The more traditional interpretation is “ice river” (Benveniste, 1955, p. 139, note 1; Andreev and Peshchereva, 1957, p. 365). Yaghnobi is a Modern East Iranian language and the only surviving successor of a Sogdian dialect. It is not a written language, but is used for daily family communication. The speakers are Sunni Muslims. When the language was discovered in the 19th century, it was spoken in the central part of the remote high valley of the Yaghnob river. This valley is situated in Tajikistan, about 100 km north of Dushanbe. Over a distance of 120 km, the Yaghnob river runs east-west, parallel to the Zerafshan river, between the Hissar range in the south and the Zerafshan range in the north. The Yaghnob river eventually turns north and meets the Zerafshan river at Aini.

Toponomastic evidence suggests that, in the past, Yaghnobi and other Sogdian dialects were spoken in neighboring valleys as well. In 1913, Junker counted about 2,200 native speakers of Yaghnobi in 21 settlements (Junker, 1930, pp. 114-21). According to Khromov (1987, p. 644), there were about 2,500 speakers in the 1960s; 1,500 of these native speakers were living in 22 settlements within the Yaghnob valley, and roughly 900 resided outside of the valley. In the 17th century, Yaghnobi speakers migrated to the neighboring valley of the Varzob river, and in the early 1950s people also moved to the Hissar valley and to Dushanbe. In 1970, however, the Soviet authorities forced the whole population of about 3,000 people to leave the Yaghnob valley. Five hundred families migrated to Zafarobod in northern Tajikistan, 200 families to the area surrounding Dushanbe. Only about 300 people were living in the Yaghnob valley in 1990, when the Dushanbe-based Council of Ministers passed the decision to re-establish all villages whose populations had been resettled. Besides further measures such as the re-opening of schools, the Tajik Academy of Science was asked to support the preservation of the Yaghnobi language (for more details see Badenkov et al., 1994, pp. 476-84; Gunja, 1996, pp. 68-69). The Russian scholar Alexander L. Kuhn and his Tajik companion and interpreter Mirza Mulla Abdurrakhman from Samarkand were, during their Iskanderkul expedition of 1870, the first who made recordings of the Yaghnobi language. The linguistic material collected by these and other scholars was used by C. Salemann in his unpublished Yaghnobi studies (Yagnobskie etyudy), on which W. Geiger based his description “Über das Yaghnōbī” (Geiger 1898-1901; see Oranskij, 1975, I, pp. 114-20, and Khromov, 1987, p. 648, for more details on the history of these early expeditions, including their research and publications). The scientific community’s interest in the study of Yaghnobi grew considerably when, at the beginning of the 20th century, documents in a previously unknown Eastern Middle Iranian language were found. The language in these documents was identified as Sogdian, which, as Salemann was able to show, is closely related dialectologically to Yaghnobi (see Oranskij, 1975, I, pp. 115-16). However, we know today that Yaghnobi is not a direct descendant of the linguistically rather uniform variety of Sogdian used in these texts (see Sims-Williams, 1989, p. 173), but that its origins can probably traced back to a Sogdian dialect spoken in Osrushana (Khromov, 1987, p. 645).

Due to the close linguistic connections between Yaghnobi and Sogdian, leading scholars in the exploration of Sogdian like R. Gauthiot and E. Benveniste took up the study of Yaghnobi. Thus, in 1955, Benveniste published a glossary from Salemann’s Yaghnobi Studies on the basis of a copy made by Gauthiot (Redard, 1970, p. 102). Unfortunately, the glossary is cut short in the middle of the letter k. Salemann’s Yaghnobi Studies and Geiger’s description were at R. Gauthiot and H. Junker’s disposal during their 1913 expedition to the Yaghnob Valley (see Junker, 1930, pp. 3-4, 107 with note 1). The resulting two publications by Junker (1914, 1930) represented an important step forward in the research on Yaghnobi. To date, Andreev and Peshchereva (1957) contains the largest published collection of oral folk literature and the most exhaustive glossary with references to, among other, Sogdian, Ossetic, and the Pamir languages. V. S. Sokolova’s research on the phonetics of Yaghnobi (Sokolova, 1953) is based on recordings she made in the Varzob Valley in 1949. An overall description of the language was published by Bogolyubov in 1966. The most comprehensive description of Yaghnobi is Khromov (1972). It not only contains a detailed grammar (phonetics, morphology, syntax, lexicon, and word formation) including chapters on dialectal differences, bilingualism, and Yaghnobi-Sogdian dialectal relations, but also 33 texts with Russian translations and a supplementary vocabulary to Andreev and Peshchereva (1957). A newer grammatical sketch of Yaghnobi is Khromov (1987), in which the chapter on the Yaghnobi-Sogdian dialectal relations of Khromov (1972) is replaced by a systematic description of the sound correspondences between Yaghnobi and Proto-Iranian and vice versa. Finally, a short sketch of Yaghnobi is given by the present author in the Compendium Linguarum Iranicarum (Bielmeier, 1989).

Salemann found out that Yaghnobi is divided into a western and a eastern dialect variety (see Khromov, 1972, p. 97 with note 99). This view is shared by Geiger 1898-1901 and has become the opinio communis, even though Gauthiot spoke of, and Khromov later confirmed, the existence of transitional varieties between the two poles. Generally, the western variety shows the more conservative features, e.g.: (1) western ay vs. eastern e (wayš/weš “grass”); (2) t vs. s < *θ (met/mes “day”); (3) tr- vs. sr- < *θr- (tiráy/saráy “3”); (4) verbal ending 3rd sg. present tense -tišt vs. -či (kúntišt/kúnči “he makes”); (5) verbal ending 1st pl. preterite tense -om vs. -im (akunóm/akuním “we made”); (6) tiráš- vs. diví- “to fall,” rūn vs. rṹnak “lamb,” etc. (see Junker, 1930, pp. 123-29; Khromov, 1972, pp. 97- 105; Khromov, 1987, pp. 647-48). In the vowel system Sokolova (1953, pp. 64-70) distinguishes 8 vowels on the phonemic level, five phonetically long vowels ē, ō, ī, ū, ǖ, and three phonetically short vowels a, i, u. Therefore, vowel length is only phonemic with i vs. ī and u vs. ū (tir “go!” vs. tīr “arrow” or uxta “went down” vs. ūxta “brought”). It does not have to be noted with e, o and ü. The phonemic status of ü is unclear. It developed from ū under unclear conditions (cf. Livshits, 1962, p. 150; Bogolyubov, 1966, p. 344; Khromov, 1987, p. 655). Generally, there is quite a lot of variation in the realization of the vowels. Vowel length, for instance, is inconsistent; o and ū are in free variation under Tajik influence (kom beside kūm “which”); and ü is replaced by ī in the younger generation (xür > xīr “sun”) (Sokolova 1953, p. 63; for variation due to the speakers’ age, see also Junker, 1930, p. 124-25) in an environment where Andreev and Peshchereva (1957, p. 363) still note the more conservative form xūr “sun.”

The consonant inventory consists of p, t, k, b, d, g, v, γ, č, j, f, s, š, z, x̌ , w, y, m, n, r, l, x, x°, h, q, ḥ, ʿ. The consonant system is characterized by the phonemic opposition between unvoiced stops and voiced fricatives, the latter of which go back to voiced stops: p vs. v, k vs. γ, but t vs. d (< δ under Tajik influence?). On the synchronical axis, b, g, and j, which first appear in Yaghnobi mainly in loans, in word-initial position before vowels, can also be found in opposition to unvoiced stops and voiced fricatives, forming minimal pairs. Therefore, they have to be considered as phonemes as well. The phoneme l occurs mainly in loans, the phonemes h, q, ḥ, ʿ exclusively in loans. As there are no initial consonant clusters, the x°, which only occurs word-initially, has to be considered a phoneme (x°ar “eat!” vs. xar “donkey” or x°at “self” vs. xat(t) “ “writing” vs. wat “there”). The bilabial glide w is in phonemic opposition to v (wīr “man” vs. vīr “find!” or wov “speak!” vs. vow “come!”). Stress is not phonemic. It usually falls on the last or on the penultimate syllable with a phonetic long vowel (cf. Sokolova, 1953, p. 64). If both syllables are long, the penultimate is stressed. If both are short, stress falls on the last syllable if it ends with a double consonant (kunánt “they may do,” farγúmč “heifer”) or if the first vowel is a Svarabhakti (epenthetic) vowel (siták “bone”). Secondarily suffixed morphemes usually are not taken into account, e.g., -išt (šawóm-išt “I go,” nīˊdom-išt “I sit down”). Tajik loans usually carry final stress, but sometimes an adaption to the pattern found in inherited words can be observed. The prefixed verbal negation is usually stressed (nánosomišt “I don“t take,” but γuš nakúntišt “he did not listen” from the Tajik calque γuš kun- “to listen”; see Khromov, 1972, p. 96). The prefixed augment is never stressed (ašáw “he went”). For stress patterns in compounds, see Khromov (1972, pp. 16, 92-93).

There is no grammatical expression of gender or of dual number. The plural is marked, in a manner similar to that of Sogdian, by a suffix -t (see Sims-Williams, 1989, p. 183), and a preceding -a changes to -o (x̌ ṹta “son” > x̌ ṹtot “sons”). A non-animated plural subject requires a plural predicate (yaw-t tim garíb aras-ór “the barley crops are almost fully ripe”). The case system is reduced to an unmarked absolute case and an oblique case, characterized by a suffixed unstressed -i,which is reduced to -y after vowel (eastern -ay > -e). The case marker -i follows the plural morpheme -t. There is group inflection with the noun phrase; the attribute precedes the head. The adjective remains unchanged, but used as a noun it is also formally treated like a noun. The preceding numeral ī “one” functions as indefinite article. The oblique case is mainly used to mark nouns functioning as attributes, indirect or definite direct objects, or as agents in ergative constructions with past tense verb forms (Khromov, 1987, pp. 663- 64). In the comparative construction the compared member of the sentence is preceded by the preposition či, which governs the absolute or the oblique case.

The personal pronouns of 1st and 2nd person have an oblique case different from the absolute case only in the 2nd pers. sg. (tu vs. taw). The other forms man “I,” mox “we,” and šumóx “you (pl.)” are derived from earlier genitive forms and are now used for both cases. The forms of the 3rd pers. sg. ax, iš (obl. áwi, it) and pl. áxtit, íštit (obl. áwtiti, ítiti) are in fact forms of the demonstrative pronoun. The enclitic forms are: 1st pers. sg. -m, 2nd pers. sg. -t, 3rd pers. sg. -š, 1st pers. pl. -mox, 2nd and 3rd pers. pl. –šint. These are used like the full forms as possessive pronouns, to express the indirect and direct object, the agent in ergative constructions as well as the possessor in sentences with “to have” (ī γow-š ast “he has a cow”). Used as direct object, an enclitic form can be suffixed to a full pronominal form (mox- šint awénim “we saw you”). In the system of demonstrative pronouns, two degrees of proximity are distinguished: sg. iš, aníš (obl. it, anít), pl. íštit (obl. ítiti) “this,” ax, (obl. áw(i), a), pl. áxtit (obl. áwtiti) “that.” The interrogative pronouns, also used in indefinite function, differentiate between kax (obl. kay), pl. káxtit (obl. káytit) “who?” and čo (obl. čoy) “what, which?” In attributive function kom beside kūm (obl. kómi beside kṹmi), pl. kṹmtit (obl. kṹmtiti), or čo are used. The reflexive pronoun x°at, usually followed by an enclitic pronoun (x°át- im kunóm “I will do it myself”), is used as a noun. The reflexive pronoun xap/xep can also be used as an attribute (ax xep dásti asinóy “he washed his hands”).

The numerals are based on a decimal system and are inherited up to ten; beyond ten, they are loans from Tajiki. Beginning with “two,” the numerals are connected with the obl. sg. of the noun (tiráy γówi “three cows”). There are traces of a vigesimal system (see Bogolyubov, 1966, p. 347). Yaghnobi has compound verbal stems consisting of noun and verb (ark kun- “to work”), like Tajiki, and simple verbal stems based on the old present tense stem (šaw- “to go”). Extended by the stressed morpheme -ón- an intransitive stem usually becomes transitive or causative (puxs- “to cook, ripen” > puxsón- “to cook, fry,” roy- “to cry” > royón- “to make [someone] cry”). Present and past tense as well as present subjunctive and imperative mood are derived from the stem by adding personal endings. Yaghnobi is the only Modern Iranian language where the augment is still kept to express past tense (šáwom-išt “I go” vs. a-šáwim “I went”). There are two basic sets of personal endings: sg. -im, -i, zero; pl. -om/-im, -ti/-si, -or, used in the simple past, and sg. -om, zero, -ot, pl. -im, -t/-s, -ant, used in the present subjunctive, where the 3rd sg. -ot is an old subjunctive form to be compared with Sogdian -āt < *-āti (for the historical development of the verbal endings in general, see Tedesco, 1923). The simple past is the usual tense in narratives. The suffix -išt (< *hišta-) adds a durative or iterative dimension. If that same suffix is added to the present subjunctive in either the 1st or the 2nd pers., the resulting form is a present tense. In the 3rd person, the endings of the present are sg. -t-išt or -či, pl. -ošt < -or-išt. In sentences with this type of predicate, the unmarked word order is SOV (man divár apénim “I opened the door”).

Periphrastic verb formations are based on the perfect participle (verbal stem + -ta or shortened -t). Together with the present tense forms of the copula (sg. īm, išt, ast(i) beside xast(i) beside -x, pl. om, ot/os, or),the perfect participle forms a resultative perfect; with the past tense forms (sg. oyim, oy(i), (x)oy, pl. iyom, iyot, iyor), a pluperfect tense; with the subjunctive of the copula, a subjunctive perfect tense; and with the perfect of the auxiliary vu-, it expresses secondhand information (Avázi xar nóta vúta-x “he apparently has taken Avaz’s donkey”). With these formations we find ergative constructions. If the predicate is based on an intransitive verb, the copula agrees with the subject; if it is based on a transitive verb, the copula agrees with the direct object and not with the agent. If the direct object is a 3rd person, the copula can be zero. The agent in the oblique case is often expressed by a noun or pronoun placed between participle and copula (púčta-t-x “you have pinched him”) or a pronoun placed between negation and verbal stem (divár na-š-péta-x “he has not opened the door yet”). Extended by the Tajik suffix -gi, the perfect participle can be used as predicate (kabü´d rūptagí “the green [grass] is cut”); without copula it can also take on attributive function (na-lakstagí odám “a person who did not get around at all”). The present participle with the copula or the auxiliary vu- functions as a predicate expressing the intention to carry out a certain action (nahíš γántum man rṹbna īm “I am going to cut this wheat,” čo ark kárna vot? “what work is he going to do?”); used with the 3rd pers. perfect forms of vu-, it includes secondhand information (peštár mórtit tim bozí kárna vútor “earlier, it is said, men played as well”). The so- called infinitive (verbal stem + -ak or simply verbal stem) in the oblique is used in final clauses (nūni pačáki wáxti-š víta-x “the time has come to bake bread”). The simple verbal stem in the oblique followed by vu- is used in ingressive clauses (bozí kári avór “they started to play”). Both infinitive forms can be followed by the modal verbs γaw- “to be necessary” or ton- “to be able” (ark kar ná-tonči “he is not able to work”).

Adverbs are not usually formally characterized. Many of them and most of the pre- and postpositions are loans from Tajiki. The enclitic conjunction -(i)k introduces not only relative clauses (har odám-k ... “every person who ...”) but also temporal, conditional, concessive, possessive, etc. clauses.

The nominal compounds comprise mostly determinative (with the first element modifying the second: Skt. Tatpuruṣa and Karmadhāraya) compounds but also adjectival, inverted possessive (inverted, Skt. Bahuvrīhi) compounds (rax-péta “whose mouth is opened” = “who stands gaping”). A kind of loose copular compound is found with enclitic -at “and” (bod-at-havo “wind and weather” = “climate”) or with the conjunction o “and” under Tajik influence (peš-o-peš “forward”). With derived nouns the unstressed suffix -(i)k is very common forming, e.g., possessive adjectives (iš kat mán-ik-x “this house is my one”). Relational adjectives are derived by -īˊna (dork “wood” > dorkīˊna “wooden”) and agent nouns by -akí (wayš “grass” > wayš-akí “he who carries grass”).

The lexicon, with the exception of verbs, is heavily influenced by Tajiki, through which also Turkish and Russian elements entered Yaghnobi. Older loans from Tajiki are phonetically adapted. The loans and calques are found even in the basic vocabulary. Sometimes we find the inherited word and the corresponding loan side by side (e.g., šowí from Tajik siyohí “darkness,” wáxin and Tajik xun “blood,” zoy and Tajik zamín “earth,” inč and Tajik zan “woman”). The so-called secret language is a cant known from certain social groups who use different words (árna instead of xar “donkey”), insert a semantically empty syllable between the syllables of the text, or change the semantics of words (see Junker, 1930, p. 125; Khromov, 1972, pp. 90-91, Khromov, 1976).

Bibliography:

M. S. Andreev and E. M. Peshchereva, Yagnobskie Teksty (Yaghnobi Texts), Moskva and Leningrad, 1957.

J. Badenkov, A. Gunja, and P. Lindner, “Traditionelle Wirtschaftsweise und Strukturwandel in einem peripheren Gebirgsraum am Beispiel Jagnob/Tadschikistan,” in Mitteilungen der Fränkischen Geographischen Gesellschaft 41, 1994, pp. 465-87.

E. Benveniste, “Un lexique du yagnobi,” JA 243, 1955, pp. 139-62.

R. Bielmeier, “Yaghnōbī,” in R. Schmitt, ed., Compendium Linguarum Iranicarum, Wiesbaden, 1989, pp. 480-88.

M. N. Bogolyubov, “Yagnobskiĭ yazyk” (Yagnobi language), in Yazyki narodov SSSR I: Indoyevropeĭskie yazyki (Languages of the people of the USSR I: Indo-European languages), Moskva, 1966, pp. 342- 61.

W. Geiger, “I. Die Pāmir-Dialekte, Anhang: Über das Yaghnōbī,” in Grundriss der Iranischen Philologie I, 2. Abteilung, VIII. Kleinere Dialekte und Dialektgruppen, Strassburg, 1898-1901, pp. 288-344.

A. N. Gunja, “Ressourcen, Risiken und Möglichkeiten der nachhaltigen Nutzung im Jagnobtal /Tadschikistan,” in Petermanns Geographische Mitteilungen 140, 1996/2, pp. 67-94.

H. F. Junker, “Drei Erzählungen auf Yaγnåbī,” in Sitzungsberichte der Heidelberger Akademie der Wissenschaften, phil.-hist. Klasse, 1914, 14.

Idem, Arische Forschungen, Yaghnōbī-Studien, I. Die sprachgeographische Gliederung des Yaghnōb-Tales, Leipzig, 1930.

A. L. Khromov, Yagnobskiĭ yazyk (Yagnobi language), Moskva, 1972.

Idem, “Uslovnye yazyki u iranskikh narodov” (Secret languages of the Iranian people), Vostochnaya filologiya (Eastern Philology) 4, Dushanbe 1976, pp. 3-19.

Idem, “Yagnobskiĭ yazyk” (Yagnobi language), in Osnovy iranskogo yazykoznaniya, Novoiranskie yazyki: vostochnaya gruppa (Essentials of Iranian linguistics, New Iranian languages: eastern group), Moska, 1987, pp. 644-701.

V. A. Livshits, “Yagnobskiĭ yazyk” (Yagnobi language), in Narody Sredneĭ Azii i Kazakhstana (People of Middle Asia and Kazakhstan) I, Moskva, 1962, pp. 149-52.

I. M. Oranskij, Die neuiranischen Sprachen der Sowjetunion I-II, The Hague and Paris, 1975.

G. Redard, “Other Iranian Languages,” in Current Trends in Linguistics 6, The Hague and Paris, 1970, pp. 97-135. N. Sims-Williams, “Sogdian,” in R. Schmitt, ed., Compendium Linguarum Iranicarum, Wiesbaden, 1989, pp. 173-92.

V. S. Sokolova, “Yagnobskiĭ yazyk” (Yagnobi language), in V. S. Sokolova, Ocherki po fonetike iranskikh yazykov (Sketches of the phonetics of the Iranian languages), Moskva and Leningrad, 1953, pp. 59-79.

P. Tedesco, “a-Stämme und aya-Stämme im Iranischen,” Zeitschrift für Indologie und Iranistik 2, 1923, pp. 281-315.

March 3, 2006

(Roland Bielmeier)

Originally Published: August 15, 2006

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YĀḤAQQI, Ḥosayn

(1903-1968) renowned composer and performer of the violin and the kamānča (spiked fiddle) and instructor of music.

YĀḤAQQI, Ḥosayn (b. Tehran, 1282 Š./1903, d. Tehran, 1347 Š./1968) renowned composer and performer of the violin and the kamānča (spiked fiddle) and instructor of music. His last name ‘Yāhaggi‘ is derived from his catch phrase “Yā Ḥaaq,” a phrase frequently used by dervishes meaning ‘God Almighty’.

Ḥosayn was deeply interested in music from his childhood, and because he had a melodious and high-pitched voice, he participated in ta‘zia (the Shi‘ite passion plays) as a reciter and singer, through which he became initially acquainted with music—a development which gave him further incentive to pursue his passion to achieve mastery of music. His first music teacher was his elder sister, Farroḵ laqā ḵānom, one of the most prominent musicians of the time. She was an accomplished player of the the piano, the organ, the tonbak (Persian drum), and thr kamānča, which Ḥosayn began to study. After the premature death of Farroḵ laqā, Ḥosayn joined the classes of the celebrated kamānča performer Ḥosayn Esma‘ilzāda. Yāḥaqqi expressed an early musical genius, and became a proficient performer of the kamānča by age 16. He then began studying the santur (hammered dulcimer), the setār (a plucked long-necked lute), and the violin, soongaining mastery of these instruments as well. Later, Yāḥaqqi joined the music classes of the master musician Abu’l Ḥasan Ṣabā to learn musical notation and other scientific principles of music. He ultimately opened his own music classes in Tehran, beginning his career as an instructor of music. Yāḥaqqi’s music classes turned out to be among the most successful in Tehran, attracting a large number of young music enthusiasts. Many of the later renowned musicians of Iran, such as Mahdi Ḵāledi, ‘Ali Tajvidi (q.v.), ‘Abbās Šāpuri (q.v.) and Parviz Yāḥaqqi, received their training in these classes.

When the performance of the violin, which was a foreign instrument in Iran, became widespread, Yāḥaqqi picked the violin as his principal instrument. He, however, availed himself of the expertise and the techniques he had developed in playing the kamānča in the performance of the violin, and thus created a unique style of violin performance as well.

When Radio Tehran was established, Yāḥaqqi was one of the first Iranian musicians to join this organization as a performer of the violin. Some years later, however, with the encouragement and insistence of Ruḥ-Allāh Ḵāleqi and Esmā‘il Navvāb Ṣafā (q.v.), and with the goal of reviving some of the traditional Persian musical instruments, Yāḥaqqi returned to playing the kamānča and his performances were frequently broadcast by Radio Tehran.

During his career as a musician, Yāḥaqqi composed some 500 melodious pieces including taṣnifs (rhythmic songs), pišdarāmads (preludes), rengs (classical dance forms), and čahār meżrāb (improvised musical solos), some of which were recorded on musical records and have survived. One such composition is a piece performed by the celebrated vocalist Tāj Eṣfahāni in Homāyun dastgāh (traditional mode) and bidād guša (melodic piece). His most famous taṣnifs are as follows :

Song title, Lyricist, Original vocalist, Traditional mode

Barq-e gām, Rahi Mo‘aiyeri,Qamar al-moluk Waziri, ABU ‘ATĀ

Didi ey del, Rahi Mo‘aiyeri, Ḡolām Ḥosayn Banān, DAŠTI

Bi Ḵabar, Esmā‘il Navvāb Ṣafā, Marżiya, DAŠTI Javāni, Esmā‘il Navāb Ṣafā, Ḥosayn Qavāmi, AFŠĀRI

(Sepantā, p.188)

Bibliography:

H. Naṣirifar, Mardān-e musiqi-e sonnati wa novin-e Iran I, 4th ed., Tehran, 1370 Š./1991, p. 220.

Esmā‘il Navvāb Ṣafā, Qeṣṣa-ye šam‘, ḵaṭerāt-e honari-e Esma‘il Navvāb Ṣafā, first ed., Tehran, 1377 Š./ 1998, pp. 154-62.

S. Sepantā, Čašmandāz-e musiqi-e Iran, First ed., Tehran, 1369 Š./1990, p.188.

(Morteżā Ḥoseyni Dehkordi)

Originally Published: December 10, 2010

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YAHYA TEPE archeological site in the Soḡun valley, Kerman province, ca. 220 km south of Kerman and 130 km north of the Straits of Hormuz. See TEPE YAHYA.

TEPE YAHYA

(Tappe Yaḥyā), archeological site in the Soḡun valley, Kerman province, ca. 220 km south of Kerman and 130 km north of the Straits of Hormuz.

TEPE YAHYA (Tappe Yaḥyā), archeological site in the Soḡun valley (lat 28°20′N, long 56°52′E), Kerman province, ca. 220 km south of Kerman and 130 km north of the Straits of Hormuz. The site is a mound (tepe), 19.8 m. high, 187 m. in diameter at the base, and was discovered in 1967 by a survey team from Harvard University under the direction of C. C. Lamberg-Karlovsky (Lamberg-Karlovsky, 1970, pp. 1-5; Negahban). Tepe Yahya was occupied, with interruptions, from the late Neolithic (ca. 5500 BCE) to the early Sasanian (300 CE) period. To date, the 6th through 3rd millennium BCE levels have been fully published, whereas those dating to the later periods are still under study. Thus, the sequence of occupation that follows (after Thornton et al., pp. 1452-3; Potts, 2001, pp. 195-207; Beale, 1986, p. 11) remains tentative, particularly for periods IVA through I:

Period VII

(D. T. Potts)

Originally Published: July 20, 2004

______YAḴČĀL

YAḴČĀ L (lit. “ice pit”) and YAḴDĀN (lit. “ice container”), a building for storing blocks of ice or, very rarely, compressed snow, which are collected in the winter for use in the summer. Until the early 20th century, yaḵdān was more common than yaḵčāl (see the respective entries in Dehḵoda), and in Khorasan and Kerman province, yaḵdān is nowadays often used as a synonym of yaḵčāl. Until the 1960s, when mechanical, electrical- or kerosene-driven refrigeration became available in most of Iran, the yaḵčāl was one of the main features of Iranian vernacular architecture, reflecting adaptation to the dry conditions and extreme temperatures of the semi-arid climate of the Iranian plateau (see DESERT), in particular its scorching summer heat. Nowadays an ice-house is often called yaḵčāl-e ḡadimi o- sonnati, and up to 2005 the Iranian Cultural Heritage Organization (ICHO) had registered 56 ice-houses, four of which date to the Safavid period (Pāzuki and Šādmehr, pp. 91, 125, 330, 457).

Use and typology. Iranian ice-houses were facilities for the storage of solid ice, ensuring that ice was available for local distribution during the summer; they were not used for refrigerating foodstuff. In its simplest form, the yaḵčāl was a storage pit dug in the ground, and covered with straw, rush, and earth for protection and insulation against sunshine and heat. Such pits seem to have been in use since the 1st millennium BCE, if not earlier. There is, however, no archeological or textual evidence as to how in Iran simple pits developed into ice-houses. Some pits were covered with their own domes and thus became independent buildings, while others were located in the cellars of larger buildings. Walled ice-houses had open pits whose south side was protected by tall shading walls, often extending to the pits’ east and west sides as well.

Many yaḵčāl relied on shallow, open-air basins (yaḵband) for on-site ice production. During the frosty winter months, a thin layer of water, about 5-10 cm, was poured into the open-air basins, where it would freeze overnight. The next day a second thin layer of water was poured atop the previous night’s ice. This process was repeated until the ice in the basin had reached a height of about 50 cm. The thick layer of solid ice was chopped into blocks and brought inside the yaḵčāl for long-term storage. Afterwards the process began anew with pouring the first thin layer of water into the open-air basins. On- site ice production was employed whenever ice could not be easily obtained from nearby mountains, and the yaḵčāl depended for its water (see ĀB iii. The Hydrology and Water Resources of the Iranian Plateau) supply on a system of underground irrigation canals (qanāt, kāriz) and water reservoirs (āb-anbār).

Ice-houses took maximum advantage of the environmental conditions, in particular soil and climate, of the Iranian Plateau. The excavated earth was used for the production of sun-dried mud bricks, which, together with mortar and plaster, were used for the construction of domes, shading walls, and water-supply channels (Wulff, p. 108). The buildings (Figure 1), as well as their operation, were completely organic, using only on-site raw materials, water, and manual labor. Domed ice-house complexes were an important part of Iranian vernacular architecture, which includes residential dwellings, bazaars (bāzār), bathhouses, windmills and watermills (see āsiā or āsiāb “mill”), fortresses, pigeon-towers, wind-towers (bādgir), and water reservoirs. Although domed water reservoirs often resemble domed yaḵčāl, water reservoirs are always built of fired bricks, which can resist the humid environment, while ice-houses are built from mud bricks. Water reservoirs have an external staircase leading down to an underground water tap at the tank’s bottom and are occasionally equipped with wind-towers to ensure the ventilation of the dome’s interior. In many cases abandoned water reservoirs were used for ice storage (ʿEnāyat-Allāh, p. 182). Yet yaḵčāl could never be used as water reservoirs, because ice-houses can only accommodate humidity or water at the bottom of the ice pit, where melted water can seep into the ground.

Rural communities needed to provide significant resources to maintain their man-made water supply systems, such as qanāt (see KĀRIZ iii. Economic and Social Contexts), and to ensure an equitable distribution of its water. Wherever qanāts were owned by an endowment (waqf), the dependent ice houses were often co- operative ventures. But ice-houses were also operated by individual businessmen and landowners. In some villages there were celebratory festivals when the yaḵčāl was filled with ice in the winter and when it was opened for ice distribution in the summer, indicating the great importance of ice-houses for their communities until the second half of the 20th century.

Literary evidence. In writings from the Kingdom of Mari on the upper Euphrates, dated to the 18th century BCE, there are the first references to an ice-house (Assyrian bīt šurīpi; see CAD XVII/3, 1992, pp. 348-49 s.v. “šurīpu”). For these ice-houses, blocks of ice were transported from nearby mountains to the court, and their main function seems to have been the cooling of the king’s wine. These ice-houses were probably cellars inside large palace structures, and not separate buildings.

Since Greek sources (in particular Polybios, 10.28) suggest that on the Iranian plateau qanāts were known toward the end of the Achaemenid period, in the second half of the 4th century BCE, Pierre Briant (pp. 33-38) has suggested that underground irrigation canals were invented in the 1st millennium BCE and that in the 4th century BCE their use gained momentum when Achaemenid rulers granted tax relief for water supply systems. Although there is neither archeological nor textual evidence, it seems probable that the development of water reservoirs and ice-houses followed the expansion of settlements that relied on irrigation systems for their agriculture.

Athenaeus (3rd century CE) recounts a story by Chares of Mitylene (4th century BCE) about Alexander the Great (356-323 BCE) using earthen pits for the storage of snow during his Indian campaign (Deipnosophistae, 3.124c). It is tempting to speculate that Alexander’s army picked up this refrigerating technique when passing through northern Iran during the year 330 BCE.

With regard to Islamic Iran, ʿAli Akbar Dehḵoda refers in the entry on “yaḵdān” in the Loḡat-nāma to an anecdote from the Anis al-ṭālebin by Salāḥ-al-Din b. Mobārak Boḵāri (14th century); in the anecdote, foqqāʿ, an effervescent drink, is kept in an ice-house. The popular dessert fāluda or pāluda (see Dehḵoda s.v. “pāluda”; Lane, p. 2439, s.v. “fāluḏ”) illustrates the uses of ice in food long before the second half of the 20th century. In the 17th century, when the first ice-houses were built in Europe, European travelers mentioned for the first time ice-houses in Iran. For example, John Fryer (d. 1733) reported that he saw ice-houses outside Shiraz (p. 250 = letter V, chap. IV). But in contrast to Iran, European ice-houses were used for preserving drinks and foodstuff in cold storage. They were outbuildings of castles and manor houses or belonged to commercial building complexes, such as butchers, dairies, and inns; their ice was usually taken from nearby moats and lakes.

Recently, Vahid Qobādiān (p. 322) observed that walled or underground ice-houses usually belonged to commercial enterprises in large urban communities near the desert. There were formerly, for example, more than 80 ice-houses in Tehran and more than 40 in Isfahan, and ice-making basins belonged to all of these.

Survey of Iranian ice-houses. Between 2007 and 2009 the author identified, registered, and mapped the sites of 129 ice-houses on the Central Plateau, especially on the fringes of the Dašt-e Kavir and the Dašt-e Lut (Jørgensen). On 104 sites, there were still remnants of the physical structures, and all three yaḵčāl types were represented: 111 domed, 12 underground, and 6 walled. In 58 instances, the domed ice-houses were ice-making basins, because ice could be easily obtained from the nearby Alborz mountains. The other 53 domed ice-houses were halfway between the large deserts and the Zagros mountains, and depended for their water supply on qanāts. Of the 129 surveyed sites, only 47 were also included in the 2005 ICHO register (Pāzuki and Šādmehr), which had counted a total of 56 ice-houses in all of Iran. Preservation initiatives have mostly neglected the traditional industrial mud-brick architecture (Figure 2), and the few remaining ruins may soon disappear. Only about 10 percent of the registered domed ice- houses have been partially restored. In general, preservation measures focus on the dome proper, and occasionally extend to the associated shading walls. But they never include the ice-making basins and water-supply channels.

The most spectacular domed ice-houses can still be found in central Yazd province. At the outskirts of Abarquh the three domes are still visible. Another domed ice-house structure has been preserved at the former road station and caravansary of Meybod, which is a popular tourist destination. These four domes are all 18 meters tall, and their diameters range 20-23 meters.

Bibliography:

For images of ice-houses in Iran and Afghanistan, search the digital library of ArchNet (free access on the Internet at: https://archnet.org).

Elizabeth Beazley and Michael Harverson, “Einheimische Architektur,” in Irans Erbe in Flugbildern von Georg Gerster, eds. Ali Mousavi and David Stronach, Mainz, 2009, pp. 156-83, esp. 158-161 and fig. 101 on p. 165.

Elizabeth Beazley, Michael Harverson, and Susan Roaf, Living with the Desert: Working Buildings of the Iranian Plateau, Warminster, Eng., 1982. Pierre Briant, “Polybe X,28 et les qanats: Le témoignage et ses limits,” in Irrigation et drainage dans l’antiquité: Qanats et canalisations souterraines en Iran, en Egypte et en Grèce – Séminaire tenu au Collège de France, ed. P. Briant, Paris, 2001, pp. 15-40.

[CAD] The Assyrian Dictionary of the Oriental Institute of the University of Chicago, vol. I/1-, Chicago, 1956-.

John Fryer, A New Account of East-India and Persia in Eight Letters, London, 1698.

Peter James and Nick Thorpe, Ancient Inventions, New York, 1994.

Hemming Jørgensen, Ice Houses of Iran: Where, How, Why, Costa Mesa, Calif., 2012; orig., Ice-houses of Iran: An Examination of the Evidence, Ph.D. diss., University of Copenhagen, 2010; the dissertation includes a CD Rom with an ice-house database.

Nāṣer Pāzuki and ʿAbd-al-Kārim Šādmehr, Āṯār-e ṯabt šoda-ye Irān dar fehrest-e āṯār-e melli, Tehran, 2005.

Vahid Qobādiān (Ghobadian), Bar-rasi-e eqlimi-e sonnati-e Irān, Tehran, 1994.

Reżā ʿEnāyat-Allāh et al., Āb o fann-e ābyāri dar Irān-e bāstān, Tehran, n. d. [ca. 1970?]; publication of the Vezārat-e Āb o Barq. Hans E. Wulff, The Traditional Crafts of Persia: Their Development, Technology, and Influence on Eastern and Western Civilizations, Cambridge, Mass., 1966.

(Hemming Jørgensen)

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YAʿQUB b. LAYṮ b. MOʿADDAL

(r. 247-65/861-79), founder of what may be distinguished as the Laythids, or the “first line” within the Saffarid dynasty.

YAʿQUB b. LAYṮ b. MOʿADDAL (r. 247-65/861-79), founder of what may be distinguished as the Laythids, or the “first line” within the Saffarid dynasty, who built up a powerful military empire in the eastern regions of the Islamic world centered on Sistān, The rise to power of Yaʿqub and his brother ʿAmr effected a substantial breach in the fabric of the ʿAbbasid caliphate, aggravating a process which began with the autonomous stances of the caliphs’ governors in Khorasan, the Tahirids and the Samanids, who were local potentates in the upper Oxus region and Transoxiana.

Yaʿqub’s home province of Sistān had an enduring heritage of sectarian opposition to the caliphs, and Kharijite activity there provoked an orthodox Sunni counter-movement, including in the capital Zarang, in which the ʿayyārs, or motaṭawweʿa (volunteer fighters) were prominent. Such bands of men soon came to represent the personal interests of local warlords, utilizing local feeling against continued caliphal control and financial exploitation of the province, and it was within one of them, that of the ʿayyār leader in Bost, Ṣāleḥ b. Naṣr (or Naṣr), that Yaʿqub first rose to prominence. In the internecine fighting of rival commanders, another ʿayyār leader emerged in Sistan, Derham b. Nazr (or Naṣr), under whom Yaʿqub then took service. However, he soon built up his own following, set Derham aside and, on 25 Moḥarram 247/10 April 861, he was hailed as Amir in Sistān. Later eulogists of the Saffarids fabricated a glorious descent for Yaʿqub and his family, back through the Sasanid emperors to the legendary Iranian kings, but Yaʿqub’s origins were in reality firmly plebeian; from his birthplace, the village of Qarnin, he came to Zarang as a coppersmith (ṣaffār, ruygar), while his brother ʿAmr was a mule-hirer (Gardizi, p. 138; Tāriḵ-e Sistān, pp. 199-202; tr. pp. 158-60; Juzjāni, I, pp. 197-98).

In 249-50/864, two years after his elevation to power, Yaʿqub led an expedition to Bost against his former master Ṣāleḥ, and then into Roḵḵaj and Zamindāvar against the local ruler there, the Zunbil, killing him and securing an immense booty. Yaʿqub’s ʿayyār origins implied a hostility to the local Kharijites, who were particularly strong around Joveyn and Uq in northern Sistān. Yaʿqub now moved against them, securing a decisive victory and killing their leader ʿAmmār b. Yāser in 251/865 (Tārik-e Sistān, p. 211; tr. pp. 164-5). There were further operations against the Kharijites of the Bāḏḡis and Garčestān regions, in which Yaʿqub employed a mixture of repression and conciliation; he incorporated many former Kharijites into his own army, in which they now formed a distinct unit, the so-called jayš al- šorāt (Bosworth, 1968, pp. 543-44). It was policies like this, and a growing anti-ʿAbbasid attitude on Yaʿqub’s part, that led some hostile sources to stigmatize him as a Kharijite sympathizer himself. Yaʿqub’s actions in fact mark the decline of militant Kharijism in the East, where it henceforth subsisted as the creed of quietist, peaceable communities. Another early concern for Yaʿqub was to extend his authority northwards to Herat and to the rich province of Khorasan, which was then under the governorship of the Tahirid family. Moḥammad b. Ṭāher b. ʿAbd-Allāh had been appointed as governor in 248/862 when a serious anti-caliphal, Shiʿite revolt broke out in the Caspian lowlands under the Hasanid ʿAli b. Zayd, called al-Dāʿi ilā’l-Ḥaqq, which Moḥammad – and, as it subsequently proved, Yaʿqub himself – was unable to quell. We have two source traditions on the events leading to the deposition of Moḥammad b. Ṭāher in Nišāpur: an “eastern” one (e.g. Gardizi, p. 1402) which places Yaʿqub’s attack on Pušang and Herat in 257/871 as part of his campaign against the Kharijites of northern Afghanistan and after his campaigns in the eastern and northern regions against the Zunbils and Abu Dawudids (see below); and a “western” one (e.g. Ebn [Abi] Azhar in Ebn Ḵallekān, VI, pp. 404-05; tr. de Slane, IV, pp. 302-04) favored by Barthold, which places the Khorasan campaign at the earlier date of 253/867. This earlier date is now confirmed by the local history, the Tāriḵ-e Sistān (pp. 208-09, 213; tr. Ḥabibi, pp. 165-66, 169), which describes how Yaʿqub captured Herat from its Tahirid governor and defeated a Tahirid army, compelling Moḥammad to grant Yaʿqub, as his vassal governor, Sistān, Kabul, Kermān and Fārs, together with the appropriate official insignia; this was the first official recognition of Saffarid authority outside his home province.

Of course, this did not satisfy Yaʿqub in the long run, but he turned his attention for now to embarking on a raid into Kermān and Fārs in order to exploit the rights granted to him by the Tahirids; Fārs, in particular, was famed for its high taxation yields, meaning that if Yaʿqub were able to secure Fārs and its resources for himself, he could prepare for an attack on Ahvāz, which boasted rich, irrigated agricultural lands. The obstacle here, however, was the power of the ʿAbbasid caliphate, especially after 256/870 when the new Caliph al- Moʿtamed’s energetic and capable brother, al-Mowaffaq, secured an ascendancy in the state. Yaʿqub’s path to Fārs had already been blocked by the caliphal governor there, ʿAli b. Ḥosayn, whom Yaʿqub had nevertheless defeated at Shiraz in 255/869, bringing back to Zarang rich spoils. Fārs meanwhile fell under the control of a local lord, Moḥammad b. Wāṣel, but Yaʿqub reacted by leading a further raid into Kermān and Fārs in 257/970, and collected 30 million dirhams of land-tax from Fārs alone. Al-Mowaffaq now formally granted Yaʿqub the governorship of Balkh, Toḵārestān, Sind and all the other eastern lands and their revenues, on the condition that he withdraw from Fārs, an obvious attempt to deflect Yaʿqub’s energies eastwards to the pagan borderlands of Afghanistan and northwestern India, from which the caliphs had no possibility of deriving revenue in any case (Ṭabari, III, pp. 1698-1706, 1839, 1841, 1858-59; Tāriḵ-e Sistān, pp. 216, 225-26; tr. pp. 171, 178-79).

Yaʿqub had in fact already taken measures against the recrudescing power of the Zunbils and their allies, the Kābol-šāhs, and in 255/869 had marched into Zamindāvar, whilst the Zunbil retreated towards Kabul. He collected rich booty in the form of slave captives and treasures, which were probably from the despoiled shrine of the local god Zun; when presents of idols and other objects were forwarded by Yaʿqub to the caliph, they caused a sensation in Sāmarrāʾ. Shortly afterwards, in either 256/870 (Gardizi, p. 139) or 258/972 (Tāriḵ-e Sistān, pp. 216-17; tr. p. 172), Yaʿqub led a further expedition to the Kabul region, and then turned northwards to attack the Abu Dawudids, or Banijurids, in Balkh.

While the sources are frequently at variance over the exact chronology of the above events, they all agree that it was in the summer of 259/873 that Yaʿqub captured Nišāpur and overthrew the Tahirids. Apparently taking advantage of disaffection within Moḥammad b. Ṭāher’s entourage, amid accusations that the latter had been neglecting the Zaydi Shiʿite threat from the Caspian region, Yaʿqub entered the city without striking a blow, and deposed and imprisoned the Tahirid amir. He proceeded into Ṭabarestān, but failed to dislodge the ʿAlid ruler Ḥasan b. Zayd, and, in any case, once he left westwards in pursuit of his primary goal to attack Iraq and the heartland of the caliphate, control of Khorasan reverted to various local warlords such as Aḥmad Ḵojestāni (Ṭabari, III, p. 1881; Gardizi, p. 130; Tārik-e Sistān, pp. 220-23; tr. pp 174-77).

A pretext for Yaʿqub’s second incursion into Fārs, in 261/875, was an appeal from Moḥammad b. Wāṣel’s rivals for help against him. Moḥammad was defeated and fled, while Yaʿqub again occupied Fārs and Ahvāz. What the caliph feared most now was an alliance between Yaʿqub and the Zanj rebels, who were by now in control of much of Lower Iraq and southern Ahvāz, and while no formal, high- level alliance was made, contacts were undoubtedly established for local cooperation between the two anti-caliphal sides. The panic- stricken caliph granted Yaʿqub an immense array of governorships, from Fārs and Ray eastwards, but Yaʿqub rejected such overtures, marched into central Iraq and captured Wāsiṭ. A battle took place at Dayr al-ʿĀqul, 50 miles south-east of Baghdad, in a terrain intersected by irrigation canals and unfamiliar to the Saffarid army, enabling al-Mowaffaq’s troops to secure victory, and thus remove the threat to Baghdad (Ṭabari, III, pp. 1841, 1859, 1887-898; Masʿudi, Moruj, VIII, pp. 42-5; Tārik-e Sistān, pp. 225-32; tr. pp. 178-84; Ebn Ḵallekān, VI, pp. 412-19; tr. IV, pp. 312-19). For the remaining three years before his death from an internal illness at Jondišābur in Šawwāl 276/June 879, Yaʿqub nevertheless retained control of Ahvāz, Fārs (which he recovered from his old enemy Moḥammad b. Wāṣel) and Kermān. Thus both southern and eastern Persia remained subtracted from caliphal control, a situation which was to continue under Yaʿqub’s successor ʿAmr (Tāriḵ-e Sistān, p. 233; tr. p. 184; Ebn Ḵallekān, VI, pp. 418, 420-21; tr. IV, pp. 315, 320-21). Yaʿqub, as a man of the people who gloried in his lowly origins and denounced the ʿAbbasids as usurpers and exploiters, expressed local Sistāni discontent with outside masters, and for this reason may be regarded as a mouthpiece of local protest in Persia, though not as a proto-Persian nationalist. Nor can we assume that the scraps of New Persian poetry which his inevitable court eulogists addressed to him, and which are preserved in the sources, show Sistān as a focus of the New Persian literary revival. Frugal in his way of life, inured to hardship and a skilful military commander, Yaʿqub may be regarded as an exponent of Realpolitik who had no time for the “caliphal fiction” whereby all governors and holders of local power were to be regarded as enjoying their authority only as an act of caliphal delegation. His career accordingly marks an early stage in the disintegration of caliphal political unity in the Islamic world.

Bibliography:

Sources. Ebn al-Aṯir (Beirut), VII. Ebn Ḵallekān, ed. ʿAbbās, VI, pp. 402-32; tr. de Slane, IV, pp. 301-35 (biographical notice).

Gardizi, ed. Ḥabibi, pp. 138-42. Juzjāni, Ṭabaqāt, I, pp. 197-99; tr. Raverty, I, pp. 20-22.

Masʿudi, Moruj, VIII. Ṭabari, III. Tāriḵ-e Sistān, pp. 200-33; tr. Gold, pp. 153-85. Yaʿqubi, Taʾriḵ, II. Studies. V. V. Barthold, “Zur Geschichte der Ṣaffāriden,” in Orientalistische Studien zu Theodor Nöldeke gewidmet, ed. C. Bezold, Giessen, 1906, I, pp. 171-91.

M. I. Bāstāni-Pārizi, Yaʿqub-e Layṯ, Tehran, 1344 Š./1965-6.

C. Edmund Bosworth, Sīstān under the Arabs, from the Islamic Conquest to the Rise of the Ṣaffārids (30-250/651-864), Rome, 1968, pp. 109-22.

Idem, “The armies of the Ṣaffārids,” BSOAS 31, 1968, pp. 534-54.

Idem, “The Ṭāhirids and Ṣaffārids,” in Camb. Hist. Iran IV, pp. 106-16.

Idem, The History of the Saffarids of Sistan and the Maliks of Nimruz, Costa Mesa and New York, 1994, pp. 67-180.

Idem, The New Islamic Dynasties, Edinburgh, 1996, pp. 172-73 no. 84.

Idem, “Yaʿḳūb b. al-Layth,” EI XI, pp. 254-55.

Theodor Nöldeke, “Yakúb the Coppersmith and his Dynasty,” in Sketches from Eastern History, London and Edinburgh, 1892, pp. 176-95.

Samuel Miklos Stern, “Yaʿqūb the Coppersmith and Persian National Sentiment,” in Iran and Islam. In Memory of the Late Vladimir Minorsky, ed. C. E. Bosworth, Edinburgh, 1970, pp. 535-55.

R. Vasmer, “Über die Münzen der Ṣaffāriden und ihrer Gegner in Fārs und Ḫurāsān,” Numismatische Zeitung, N.S. 63, 1930, pp. 131- 62.

(C. Edmund Bosworth)

Originally Published: July 20, 2002

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YARKAND a town in Chinese Turkestan, at the southwestern end of the Tarim Basin (38°27' N, 77°16' E; alt. 1,190 m).

YARKAND (Yarkend; Modern Uighur Yärkänd; Chinese Shache, the same characters can also be read as Suoche), a town in Chinese Turkestan, at the southwestern end of the Tarim Basin (38°27' N, 77°16' E; alt. 1,190 m). Yārkand is located in a fertile oasis on the banks of the river of the same name; it is accessible from Khotan via Karghalik by the road going along the southern edge of the Taklamakan Desert and from Kāšḡar situated to the northwest. Through the mountains to the west of Yārkand, one can proceed to Sarykol and then to the Pamirs and the Oxus Basin, or towards the upper course of the Indus (the route of the modern Karakorum Highway). This location gave Yārkand high importance for the Silk Road trade route.

The territory of Yārkand is for the first time mentioned in the Hanshu (1st century BCE), under the name Shache (Old Chinese, approximately, *s³a(j)-ka), which is probably related to the name of the Iranian Saka tribes. At the time of the Han expansion into the “Western Regions,” Yārkand was larger than the neighboring kingdoms, being reported to have 3,049 soldiers. Later it began to expand still more, and between 29 and 61 CE, under the ruler Xian, it controlled the Tarim Basin. Afterwards, Buddhism became dominant in Yārkand, and several monasteries were observed by Xuanzang, although some of them were already in ruins at the time of his visit to the area (around 630 CE). Unlike the neighboring oases, however, no remains of Buddhist monuments have been found in Yārkand as yet (for Chinese records about pre-Islamic Yārkand see Rhie, pp. 255-57; Litvinskiĭ, p. 241; Hulsewé and Loewe, pp. 139-41).

Yārkand was conquered by the Qarā-khanids (see ILAK-KHANIDS) in the 10th century, and its population converted to Islam. From the 11th century onwards, we encounter its present name, which can probably be derived from Turkic yar ‘cliff, gorge’ and känd ‘town’ (ultimately an Iranian lexeme). This name is mentioned by Mah³mud Kāšḡari (1005-1102), and it is found on coins and in a number of land-ownership documents written in Arabic and Turkic (the latter in both Uighur and Arabic script), which date back to the 11th-12th centuries. The legal style of these documents is already purely Islamic, although many names are Turkic; a Jewish population seems to be mentioned as well. Subsequently, Yārkand (like the neighboring settlements) passed to Küčlüg (the usurper of the Qarā-khitay throne), then to the Mongols Qaydu and Čaḡatāy. In 1274, Marco Polo visited Yārkand and noted some Christians living there. Later, the Chaghatayid dynasty ruled over Yārkand (as well as over all the Tarim Basin), and in 1514 Yārkand became its capital. New city walls were subsequently erected, canals dug, and gardens laid out. In this period, the Naqshbandi Ḵᵛājas of Yārkand began to amass power into their hands, and in 1678 they replaced the old dynasty. Yārkand became one of their capitals along with Kāšḡar. In 1758, the Tarim Basin was captured by the Chinese Qing Empire, and initially Yārkand was regarded as the capital city of the new province. However, after the revolt of Yaʿqub-beg, who also considered Yārkand his capital, Kāšḡar replaced it in this function. In mid-2000s, Yārkand/Shache had a population of about 373,000 inhabitants, most of whom were Uighurs.

See: CHINESE TURKESTAN.

Bibliography:

O. F. Akimushkin, ed., Tarikh-i Kāšḡar. Anonimnaya tyurkskaya khronika vladeteleĭ Vostochnogo Turkestana po konets XVII veka (Tāriḵ-e Kāšḡar. An anonymous Turkic chronicle of the owners of the Eastern Turkestan up until the end of the 17th century), St. Petersburg, 2001.

C. E. Bosworth, “Yārkand,” EI² XI, 2002, pp. 286-88, with bibliography. Šāh-Maḥmud Čurās, Khronika (Tāriḵ), ed. and tr. O. F. Akimushkin, Moscow, 1976. A. F. P. Hulsewé and M. A. N. Loewe, China in Central Asia, the Early Stage, 125 B.C.–A.D. 23, Leiden, 1979.

B. A. Litvinskiĭ, ed., Vostochnyĭ Turkestan v drevnosti i rannem srednevekov’e: ocherki istorii (Eastern Turkestan in antiquity and early Middle Ages: essays in history), Moscow, 1988. Ma Dazheng, “The Tarim Basin,” in History of Civilizations of Central Asia, vol. V, ed. Ch. Adle, I. Habib, and K. M. Baypakov, Paris, 2003, pp. 181-208.

M. M. Rhie, Early Buddhist Art of China and Central Asia, vol. I, Leiden, Boston, and Köln, 1999, p. 255-57.

February 20, 2009

(Pavel Lurje)

Originally Published: February 20, 2009

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YĀSĀ

A term used of individual edicts issued by Čengiz Khan and his successors and sometimes of the entire body of such edicts.

YĀSĀ (Turkish yasaq; Mongolian jasagh “law, decree, order”), a term used of individual edicts issued by Čengiz Khan and his successors and sometimes of the entire body of such edicts; it is frequently used in the secondary literature to designate a supposed written code, the “Great Yāsā.”

Such a code was long believed to date from Čengiz Khan’s acclamation in 1206 as “ruler of all who dwell within walls of felt,” in the wording of the Secret History of the Mongols, and attempts were made to identify its individual provisions on the basis of references in numerous primary sources (Riasanovsky, pp. 83-86; Vernadsky; Poucha). David Ayalon demonstrated that the account of the yāsā furnished by the most frequently quoted author, the 9th/15th-century Mamluk historian Taqi-al-Din Maqrizi, was derived, not from his supposed informant Ebn al-Borhān, but (without acknowledgement) from the encyclopedist Ebn Fażl-Āllāh ʿOmari (d. 749/1349) and through him, ultimately, from ʿAṭā-Malek Jovayni (d. 681/1283, q.v.). Although ʿOmari’s account of the yāsā also incorporated material absent from the extant version of Jovayni’s history and of doubtful provenance, Ayalon showed that Jovayni was virtually our only source on the yāsā (Ayalon, 1971, pp. 101-40), though he still accepted the historicity of a written code.

David Morgan then demonstrated the lack of evidence for the written code. The account in the Secret History (para. 203; tr. de Rachewiltz, I, pp. 135-36) merely described how Čengiz Khan entrusted his adopted brother, Šigi Qotoqu, with the office of chief judge (yarguči) and the task of maintaining registers of judicial decisions; there was nothing about written laws as such (Morgan, 1986). The existence of a code might be implicit in Rašid-al-Din Fażl-Allāh’s statement that Čengiz Khan “drew up and set in order (morattab wa modawan gardānid) the yāsāq and yusun of rulership (pādšāhi)” (I, p. 288; tr., p. 101). Such references are relatively meagre, though it should be noted that there is nothing incongruous in the possibility that edicts were written down; the Mongol chancery was issuing documents in the Uighur script well before Čengiz Khan’s death in 624/1227.

At the enthronement of Ögödei (Ukādāy) as great khan in 626/1229, Čengiz Khan’s yāsās were produced, confirmed, and declared to be unalterable. They were similarly produced at the enthronement of subsequent great khans or on the eve of a major military expedition, which was required to proceed with the destruction of cities and districts according to its instructions (Jovayni, I, pp. 17-18, 149; tr., I, pp. 25, 189-90; de Rachewiltz, pp. 94-95). From this point onwards, if not previously, what had originally been in many cases ad hoc rulings by the great conqueror acquired permanent force; they appear to have been regarded, if not as a homogeneous and systematically organized code, at least as a recognizable corpus of regulations for the governance and preservation of the empire. The term yāsā was used in this sense by Ögödei’s son and successor, Güyük (also Koyuk), in an ultimatum to Pope Innocent IV in 644/1246 (of which the original was written in Persian) that required him to appear in person at the Mongol imperial headquarters in order that “we might cause him to hear every command that there is of the yāsā” (har farmān-e yāsā ke bāšad bešenavim: Pelliot, p. 17; de Rachewiltz, pp. 100-101). Yet this corpus was evidently not viewed as finite, since at his accession Güyük himself issued an edict that affirmed the inviolability of not merely Čengiz Khan’s yāsās, but also those of Ögödei (Jovayni, I, p. 211; tr., I, p. 256).

Some uncertainty exists regarding the scope of the yāsā. From Jovayni’s chapter on the laws framed by Čengiz Khan, we might deduce that it dealt primarily with matters of governance, military discipline, the postal courier system (yām), and the conduct of the annual winter hunt (Jovayni, I, pp. 16-25; tr., I, pp. 23-34). But he also mentions a yāsā ordering the conqueror’s descendants to treat all faiths even-handedly (I, pp. 18-19; tr., I, p. 26). Although Ayalon rightly emphasized the futility of attempts to reconstruct the yāsā, a fuller idea of the range of edicts can be gleaned from the accounts of Western European visitors to the Mongol empire. According to Innocent IV’s envoy Plano Carpini, one of these edicts (leges et statuta) prohibited any member of the imperial dynasty from taking the imperial throne without election by the rest of the princes; another forbade the Mongols to make peace with any nation that had not submitted (Carpini, p. 264; tr., p. 25).

Whereas Carpini for the most part treats law and custom separately (pp. 239-40; tr., p. 11; cf., on the offense of adultery, p. 250: legem ... sive consuetudinem, tr. p. 17: “law or custom”), in the Persian sources the word yāsā often appears closely linked with custom and tradition (ʿādat, āḏin, āʾin; e.g., Jovayni, I, pp. 161, 203-4, 211, 227, III, p. 3; tr., pp. 204, 248, 255, 272; II, p. 549; Rašid al-Din, II, p. 685). Certain steppe customs were in direct conflict with the Šariʿa (religious rules and regulations). The sources assert, for instance, that Muslims were ordered, on pain of death, to slaughter animals in accordance with Mongol practice rather than in their customary fashion. They were forbidden to perform their canonical ablutions or, during the spring and summer months, to wash garments in running water (actions that were believed to offend local spirits and provoke their retaliation). Such transgressions are the subject of a number of anecdotes designed primarily to highlight Ögödei’s clemency in the face of his brother Čaḡatāy’s grim determination to uphold the law (Jovayni, I, pp. 161-62, 163; tr., I, pp. 204-5, 206). We are told that Čaḡatāy was especially zealous in enforcing the yāsā regarding the killing of animals, with the result that no one dared slaughter sheep in Khorasan, and Muslims were obliged to eat carrion (Jovayni, I, p. 227; tr., I, p. 272). There are two separate questions at issue in this context. The first is whether Muslim authors confused law and custom (yosun), which were in reality quite distinct: yāsā had to do with matters of governance, military affairs, and the postal relay-system, and yosun embraced merely steppe traditions and taboos regarding, for instance, diet, washing, and social relationships (Aigle, 2004a, pp. 47-48; idem, 2004b, p. 972). Such confusion seems improbable. Two of our principal Muslim sources are Jovayni and Rašid-al-Din. Jovayni visited the Mongolian homeland, and Rašid-al-Din obtained much of his information from the Mongol grandee Pulād (Bolod) Čingsāng, who is less likely to have been prey to misapprehension in this context. Moreover, any confusion, if it indeed existed, could well have arisen from the readiness of the Mongols to enforce custom as law. To what extent they did so is the second issue. It is certainly difficult to understand how the Muslim slaughter ritual could have been prevented in the Islamic world at large; significantly, the relevant anecdotes retailed by Jovayni (e.g., I, pp. 161-63; tr., I, pp. 204-7) are all set in the vicinity of Ögödei’s court in Mongolia. In all probability, such taboos were enforced only when infringed publicly or in circumstances when infringement was deemed to threaten the immediate security of the great khan or his family by provoking malevolent spirits (Aigle, 2004a, pp. 69-70; idem, 2004b, pp. 993-94).

We do not know how long these measures were in force in the various parts of the empire. An edict of the Great Khan Qubilāy in China in 1280, renewing the prohibition of the Muslim slaughter ritual (and additionally forbidding circumcision), mentions the laxity of the imperial regime in this regard since Güyük’s day. It also refers to the issue of a similar edict in Iran by Qubilāy’s brother, the Il-khan Hülegü (Hulāgu; Cleaves, pp. 67-89). There is, however, no evidence that it was continued. Qubilāy’s own clampdown on the Muslims lasted only until 1287. Directed against a relatively small, if nevertheless significant, minority of the subject population, it was perhaps easier to implement there than in the Il-khanate domain. Ebn Fażl-Allāh ʿOmari maintained that the yāsā was observed more steadfastly in the Chaghatayid khanate and in the Great Khan’s dominions than in the Il-khanate or the Golden Horde territories (p. 41; tr., pp. 118-19). Whether this refers to the content of particular edicts or to the entire body of Mongol law is unclear; but it seems to class together the two Mongol states whose rulers had converted to Islam. Authors writing under the Muslim Il-khans are at pains to stress their rulers’ allegiance to the yāsā simultaneously with their commitment to Islam. Thus Rašid-al-Din describes the newly converted Gāzān Khan as an expert on the yāsā since his youth (II, p. 1210; tr., p. 417). This may reflect the sensitivity of a court historian both to the notion that his sovereign’s conversion was skin- deep, a charge leveled in particular by the Mamluk enemy, and to the view of Mongols of the old school that conversion entailed abandoning the yāsā. Certainly another royal convert to Islam, the Chaghatayid khan Tarmaširin (d. 735/1334), is said to have rejected it in favor of the Šari‛a (Ṣafadi, X, p. 383; cf. Ayalon, 1971, pp. 178-79, citing Ebn Ḥajar ʿAsqalāni). He was overthrown, on the grounds that he had acted contrary to Čengiz Khan’s yāsā. Ebn Baṭṭuṭa (tr. Gibb, III, p. 565; tr. Mowaḥḥed, I, pp. 422-23) identifies his precise offense as the failure to visit the eastern tracts of the khanate and summon an annual assembly (qorultāy) of notables; but it is conceivable that in his endeavors to promote Islam he had contravened another of Čengiz Khan’s edicts, namely that forbidding the Mongols to favor one faith over any other (see above).

Whatever the historical realities of the 13th century, later decades witnessed the growth of a widespread belief that Čengiz Khan had promulgated a written code of laws, the yāsā. In the Mamluk sultanate, which posed as the defender of Islam against the infidel Mongols and was on hostile terms with the Il-khanate until 723/1323, great stress was laid on the opposition between the yāsā and the Šariʿa, and discussion of the yāsā was of a polemical nature. As a consequence various provisions were attributed to Čengiz Khan’s yāsā which were surely apocryphal, such as those listed by the hostile 9th/15th-century witness, Ebn ʿArabšāh (Irwin, pp. 8-9). There is no evidence to support the claim by Ṣafadi (d. 764/1363) that the Mongol mamluk Aytemeš administered the affairs of the Sultan’s personal mamluks according to the yāsā (Ṣafadi, IX, p. 440; cf. Little, 1979), and the role of the yāsā within the Mamluk dominions in practice has been greatly exaggerated. Maqrizi’s principal aim in speaking of it was to accuse the military chamberlains (ḥojjāb) of extending it to cases that involved ordinary Muslims and that properly pertained to the Šariʿa and the jurisdiction of the judge (qāżi). It has been shown that this charge was, in fact, groundless and that what was at stake was merely the application of siāsa, namely the justice administered by the sultan and his officers independently of the Šariʿa (Maqrizi, II, pp. 40-41, 208, 219; Ayalon, 1973, pp. 119-42).

The Turco-Mongol conqueror Timur (r. 771-807/1370-1405), who set out to recreate the empire of Čengiz Khan, combined Islamic zeal with a strong attachment to Mongol traditions, including the yāsā. His court historian Neẓām-al-Din Šāmi thought it worthwhile, when inflating the importance of Timur’s ancestor Qarāčār in the Chaghatayid state, to depict him as the guardian of the yāsā (Šāmi, I, pp. 10, 12-14, 58; Manz, 1988, p. 111). Although Timur’s son Šāhroḵ is said to have rejected the yāsā and implemented only Islamic law, the most he did was to promote Islamic norms while preserving an allegiance to the Mongol heritage (Manz, 2001, p. 144). During the 9th/15th and 10th/16th centuries Central Asia was the scene of controversy over the proper place of the yāsā, or tura/töre (rule, usage), as it was usually known there, and its relation to the Šari‛a, especially following the boost given to Chengizid charisma by the rise of the Uzbeks and their conquest of Transoxiana (McChesney, 1990, pp. 63-80; idem, 1996, pp. 127-32). In his autobiography, the first Mughal emperor, Bābor, denied the binding character of the tura where its stipulations were at fault (Dale, p. 171). Evidence regarding the character of the yāsā from these eastern regions is doubtless more reliable, on balance, than that emanating from the western Islamic world, though still in some cases problematic. For instance, Bābor’s contemporary, the Uzbek khan Moḥammad Šibāni, believed that one of Čengiz Khan’s yāsās prescribed the right of a grandson whose father was dead to inherit an equal share of the property with his uncles; but we have no evidence to confirm its authenticity for the 7th/13th century (Isogai, p. 93).

Bibliography:

Primary sources.

John of Plano Carpini, Ystoria Mongalorum, ed. Enrico Menestò, Claudio Leonardi, and Maria Cristiana Lungarotti, as Giovanni del Pian di Carpine: Storia dei Mongoli, Spoleto 1989; tr. in Christopher Dawson, The Mongol Mission: Narratives and Letters of the Franciscan Missionaries in Mongolia and China in the Thirteenth and Fourteenth Centuries, London, 1955, pp. 1-72.

ʿAlāʾ-al-Din Aṭā-Malek Jovayni, Tāriḵ-e jahāngošāy, ed. Moḥammad Qazvini, 3 vols., Leiden, 1912-37, pp. 16-25; tr. John Andrew Boyle, as The History of World Conqueror, 2 vols., Manchester, 1958, I, pp. 23-34.

Ebn Baṭṭuta, Toḥfat al-noẓẓār fī ḡarāʾeb al-amṣār wa ʿajāʾeb al-asfār, ed. and tr. Hamilton A. R. Gibb and Charles F. Beckingham, as The Travels of Ibn Battuta, 5 vols., Cambridge, 1958-2000; tr. Moḥammad-ʿAli Mowaḥḥed, as Safar-nāma-ye Ebn Baṭṭuṭa, 2 vols., Tehran, 1969.

Ebn Fażl-Allāh ʿOmari, Masālek al-abṣār, ed. and tr. Klaus Lech, as Das mongolische Weltreich: al-ʿUmari's Darstellung der mongolischen Reiche, Wiesbaden, 1968, esp. Arabic text, pp. 7-10, Ger. tr., pp. 95-97.

Taqi-al-Din Abu′l-ʿAbbās Maqrizi, al-Mawāʿeẓ wa’l-eʿtebār fi ḏekr al- ḵeṭaṭ wa’l-ātār, 2 vols, Bulāq 1270/1853-54.

Rašid al-Din Fażl-Allāh, Jāmeʿ al-tawāriḵ, ed. Moḥammad Rowšan and M. Musawi, Tehran, 1994; tr. Wheeler M. Thackston, as Classical Writings of the Medieval Islamic World: Persian Histories of the Mongol Dynasties: Jamiʿu’t-Tawarikh: A Compendium of Chronicles by Rashiduddin Fazlullah, 3 vols., London and New York, 2012.

Ṣalāḥ-al-Din Ḵalil b. Aybak Ṣafadi, al-Wāfi be’l-wafayāt, ed. H. Ritter et al., as Das biographische Lexikon des Ṣalāḥaddīn Ḫalīl b. Aibak aṣ-Ṣafadī, 28 vols. (out of 30), Istanbul, Leipzig, Wiesbaden, etc. 1931-2004.

Neẓām-al-Din Šāmi, Ẓafar-nāma, ed. Felix Tauer, Histoire des conquêtes de Tamerlan intitulée Ẓafarnāma par Niẓāmuddīn Šāmī, 2 vols., Prague 1937-56.

The Secret History of the Mongols: A Mongolian Epic Chronicle of the Thirteenth Century, tr. Igor de Rachewiltz, 2 vols., Leiden, 2004. Studies.

Denise Aigle, “Le Grand Jasaq de Gengis-Khan: l’empire, la culture mongole et le Shariʿa,” Journal of the Economic and Social History of the Orient 47/1, 2004a, pp. 31-79.

Idem, “Loi mongole vs loi islamique: Entre mythe et réalité,” Annales. Histoire, Sciences Sociales 59, 2004b, pp. 971-96.

Reuven Amitai-Preiss, “Ghazan, Islam and Mongol Tradition: A View from the Mamlūk Sultanate,” BSOAS 59, 1996, pp. 1-10; repr. in idem, The Mongols in the Islamic Lands: Studies in the History of the Ilkhanate, Aldershot, UK, 2007.

Françoise Aubin, “Some Characteristics of Penal Legislation among the Mongols (13th-21st Centuries),” in Wallace Johnson and Irina Fedorovna Popova, eds., Central Asian Law: An Historical Overview. A Festschrift for the Ninetieth Birthday of Herbert Franke, Lawrence, Kans., 2004, pp. 119-51.

David Ayalon, “The Great Yāsa of Chingiz Khan: A Re-examination,” Studia Islamica 33, 1971, pp. 97-140; 34, 1971, pp. 151-80; 36, 1972, pp. 113-58; 38, 1973, pp. 107-56; repr. in idem, Outsiders in the Lands of Islam: Mamluks, Mongols and Eunuchs, London, 1988.

Michal Biran, “The Chaghadaids and Islam: The Conversion of Tarmashirin Khan (1331-34),” JAOS 122, 2002, pp. 742-52. Clifford Edmund Bosworth and David O Morgan, “Yāsā,” in EI2 XI, 2002, pp. 293-94.

Francis Woodman Cleaves, “The Rescript of Qubilai Prohibiting the Slaughtering of Animals by Slitting the Throat,” in Carolyn I Cross, ed., Richard Nelson Frye Festschrift I: Essays Presented to Richard Nelson Frye on His Seventieth Birthday by His Colleagues and Students, Cambridge, Mass., 1992 = Journal of Turkish Studies 16, pp. 67-89.

Stephen Fredric Dale, The Garden of the Eight Paradises: Bābur and the Culture of Empire in Central Asia, Afghanistan and India (1483- 1530), Leiden, 2004.

Gerhard Doerfer, Türkische und mongolische Elemente im Neupersischen, 4 vols., Wiesbaden 1963-75, I, pp. 264-67 (no. 134: törä), 555-7 (no. 408: yōsūn), and IV, pp. 71-82 (no. 1789: yāsāq).

Robert G. Irwin, “What the Partridge Told the Eagle: A Neglected Arabic Source on Chinggis Khan and the Early History of the Mongols,” in Reuven Amitai-Preiss and David O. Morgan, eds, The Mongol Empire and Its Legacy, Leiden 1999, pp. 5-11.

Kenichi Isogai, “Yasa and Shari‛a in Early 16th Century Central Asia,” in Maria Szuppe, ed., L’Héritage timouride Iran — Asie centrale — Inde XVe-XVIIIe siècles, Cahiers d’Asie Centrale 3-4, Tashkent and Aix-en-Provence, 1997, pp. 91-103. D. P. Little, “Notes on Aitamiš, A Mongol mamlūk,” in Ulrich Haarmann and Peter Bachmann, eds, Die islamische Welt zwischen Mittelalter und Neuzeit: Festschrift für Hans Robert Roemer zum 65. Geburtstag, Wiesbaden 1979, pp. 387-401; repr. in Little, History and Historiography of the Mamlūks, London 1986.

Beatrice Forbes Manz, “Tamerlane and the Symbolism of Sovereignty,” Iranian Studies 21, 1988, pp. 105-22.

Idem, “Mongol History Rewritten and Relived,” Revue des Mondes Musulmans et de la Méditerranée 89-90, 2001, pp. 129-49.

Robert D. McChesney, “Zamzam Water on A White Felt Carpet: Adapting Mongol Ways to Muslim Central Asia, 1550-1650,” in Michael Gervers and Wayne Schlepp, eds, Religion, Customary Law, and Nomadic Technology, Toronto 1990, pp. 63-80.

Idem, Central Asia: Foundations of Change, Princeton 1996.

David O. Morgan, “The ‘Great Yāsā of Chingiz Khān’ and Mongol Law in the Īlkhānate,” BSOAS 49, 1986, pp. 163-76.

Idem, “The ‘Great Yasa of Chinggis Khan’ revisited,” in Reuven Amitai and Michal Biran, eds, Mongols, Turks, and Others: Eurasian Nomads and the Sedentary World, Leiden, 2005, pp. 291-308. Idem, The Mongols, 2nd ed., Oxford, 2007, pp. 83-87.

Paul Pelliot, “Les Mongols et la papauté,” part I, Revue de l’Orient Chrétien 23, 1922-23, pp. 3-30.

P. Poucha, “Über den Inhalt und die Rekonstruktion des ersten mongolischen Gesetzbuches,” in Louis Ligeti, ed., Mongolian Studies, Budapest, 1970, pp. 377-415.

Igor de Rachewiltz, “Some reflections on Činggis Qan’s Jasaγ,” East Asian History 6, December 1996, pp. 91-104.

Paul Ratchnevsky, “Die Yasa (Jasaq) Činggis-khans und ihre Problematik,” in Györgi Hazai and Peter Zieme, eds, Sprache, Geschichte und Kultur der altaischen Völker, Berlin 1974, pp. 471-87.

Idem, Cinggis-Khan, sein Leben und Wirken, ed. and tr. Thomas Nivison Haining, as Genghis Khan: His Life and Legacy, Oxford 1991, pp. 187-96.

Valentin Alexandrovich Riasanovsky, Fundamental Principles of Mongol Law, Tientsin, 1937; repr., Bloomington, Ind., and The Hague, 1965, esp., pp. 83-86.

George Vernadsky, “The Scope and Content of Chingiz Khan’s Yasa,” HJAS 3, 1938, pp. 337-60. (P. Jackson)

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YASNA the name for the central ritual in Zoroastrianism and for the long liturgical text recited during the daily performance of the ritual.

YASNA, the name for the central ritual in Zoroastrianism and for the long liturgical text recited during the daily performance of the ritual. In this article, Yasna (abbrev. Y.) will designate the text, yasna the ritual itself. As described elsewhere (see SACRIFICE. IN ZOROASTRIANISM), the yasna-ritual is rooted in ancient Indo- Iranian cultic practices. More specifically, it derives from common rituals concerned with the daily preparation of the sacred drink (Av. haoma, Ved. sóma) and from animal sacrifice (nowadays preserved only in the clarified butter, gōšudāg, which is consumed with the bread offering, drōn). The ultimate goal of the yasna is the maintenance of the cosmic integrity of the good creation of Ahura Mazdā.

The text of the Yasna. The Yasna is composed of 72 sections (Av. hāiti-, Phl. hād, Pāz. hā) of widely differing compositional form, character, and language. That is, the Yasna is a composite text representing the editorial work of scholar-priests whose goal it was to produce an extended liturgy to accompany the ritual. Its full recitation is of approximately two and a half hours duration.

Summary of the content. Y. 1-8 forms an introduction to the yasna in which the deities (yazata) are invoked and invited to attend the yasna and the essential elements of the ritual are presented. Y. 1 serves as a model, with some deviations for Y. 1-4, 6, while Y. 5, 8 follow independent structures. Each hāiti has its own characteristic invocation formula:

Y. 1 niwaēδayemi hankārayemi “I consecrate, I accomplish (this yasna)” followed by the name of the deity or deified entity, now in the genitive, now in the dative; Y. 2 āyese yešti “I take in worship” preceded by the name of the deity or deified entity in the accusative; Y. 3 āyese yešti initially as in Y. 2, but 3.5-19 = Y. 1.3-17 with the substitution of āyese yašti for niwaēδayemi hankārayēni without any attempt to change the case endings; Y. 4 āaṱdiš āwaēδayamahi “Thus, we dedicate these” followed by the name of the recipient in the same case as in Y. 1; Y. 6 yazamaide “we worship” preceded by the name in the accusative; Y. 7 ašaya daδąmi “I properly give” followed by the name in the accusative. Y. 5 = Y. 37 of the Yasna Haptaŋhāiti in its entirety. Y. 8 concludes the section with the presentation of and calling to the sacrificial meal (xʷarəθəm myazdəm), that is, the drōn, followed by blessings and curses.

Y. 9-11.11 Hōm Yašt. Y. 11 concludes with blessings and curse and other prayers.

Y. 12-13. Although the Frawarānē (Confession of Faith) is recited already at Y. 1.23 and 3.24, here there is an extended confession which was composed in Standard Avestan, but in imitation of the Gāθic dialect, apparently in an attempt to add an air of greater authority. Y. 14-18 contain various invocations, in many instances repeating material already contained in Y. 1-8, and serve as introductory sections of the Staota Yesnya “(words) of praise and worship,” which extends through Y. 58.

At the center of the Staota Yesnya are the seven sections of the Yasna Haptaŋhāiti (Y. 35-41) plus a later interpolation (Y. 42). The Yasna Haptaŋhāiti is flanked at both ends by the five Gāθās (see GATHAS) of Zaraθuštra, namely, at the beginning Ahunawaitī (Y. 28- 34) and at the end Uštawaitī (Y. 43-46), Spəntō.mainyū (Y. 47-50), Wohuxšaθrā (Y. 51), then a non-Gāθic interpolation (Y. 52), and Wahištōištī (Y. 53).

Moving out toward the periphery, the Gāθās are enclosed protectively at their beginning by Y. 19-27. These sections contain Avestan commentaries on the three sacred prayers taken from the lost Bag Nask (Y. 19 yaθā ahū wairyō or ahuna wairya, Y. 20 ašəm wohū, Y. 21 yeŋˊhē hātąm), followed by a series of invocations of the ritual objects and offerings and of various deities, with much material borrowed from Y. 1-8 (Y. 22-27.12, concluding with the Frawarānē), and finally the three sacred prayers themselves, which immediately precede the recitation of the Gāθās.

The conclusion of the Gāθic recitation is immediately followed by the sacred prayer, the ā airyəˊmå išyō (Y. 54) and then by a praise of the Gāθās and the Staota Yesnya (Y. 55). Y. 56 is a short invocation of Sraoša, while Y. 57 is the long Srōš Yašt. The Staota Yesnya concludes with Y. 58 called fšūšō.mąθra, a prayer for protection against evil powers and praise of Ahura Mazdā, the Aməša Spəntas, Fire and the Staota Yesnya. Y. 59 is mostly a repetition of Y. 17 and 26. Particularly interesting is a prayer for the priest’s stipend. Y. 60 is devoted to benediction for the house of the righteous (dahmā āfritiš). Y. 61 returns to a glorification of the three sacred prayers plus the Dahmā Āfritiš. Y. 62 is a collection of stanzas, containing some metrical verses, praising Ātar “Fire” (ātaxš nyāyišn).

Y. 63-69 are sections dealing with the ritual “offerings to the Waters” (āb-zōhr). Y. 63 is a short section announcing the worship of the Waters, followed by Y. 64 composed of quotations from Gāθic stanzas. Y. 65 is dedicated to the Waters generally and in particular to Arədwī Sūrā Anāhitā, where secs. 1-5 are quotations of Yt. 5.1-5. Y. 66-67 announce the giving of the libation (zaoθrā) to various deities, but especially the Frawašis and Ahurānī, who is the subject of Y. 68. In this section ahurānī ahurahe, lit., “Wife of Ahura of Ahura” is invoked beside the Ahurānīs “Wives of Ahura” who are equated with the Waters. Y. 69 is a brief repetition of some Gāθic passages forming the conclusion of the āb-zōhr.

Y. 70-72 are concluding invocations and prayers.

Date of composition. Obviously, the text could not have been composed until some time after the death of Zaraθuštra, as the majority of its composition is in the Standard (or Younger) Avestan dialect, in contradistinction to the Gāθic (or Old) Avestan dialect of the prophet’s Gāθās, of the Yasna Haptaŋhāiti and of the sacred prayers.. But, when was the Yasna composed? This is a very difficult question to answer. To begin to frame an answer one must distinguish elements of the composition from the editorial work that produced the extended text. Further, one can imagine that the text was the product of a uniform editorial project drawing on inherited liturgical elements, completed at a particular time in history; or one can imagine some sort of agglutinative process whereby over a long period of time the text was gradually expanded; or, too, one can image a uniform editorial composition, but then subject to later accretions.

The first observation to be made is that the editors did not control the Avestan language. They often drew upon inherited Avestan compositions which had been received in good grammatical form. However, when they attempted to create new compositions based on inherited constructions they ran into trouble. This is immediately apparent, for example, in the formulaic invocations of the initial portion of the Yasna (1-8). In a number of places the received text of the Yasna includes citations from an otherwise lost tradition of commentary in Avestan on the sacred prayers (Y. 19-21) and the Gāθās (Y. 61.5, 70.5). It is curious to find such scholastic commentaries embedded in a liturgical text. Their presence suggests that the editors borrowed this material from the scholastic tradition. This may not be so surprising when one considers that the Avesta generally, including the Gāθās, is actually a “school” text (see Malandra). The very literary form of the exegetical sections dealing with the three sacred prayers makes plain that these sections are taken from other sources. Y. 19 begins with the formula that is familiar in didactic texts like the Vendīdād, namely, “Zaraθuštra asked Ahura Mazdā ... Then Ahura Mazdā said ...” The actual exegesis proceeds in such a way that a phrase is quoted, then explained with the technical term para.cinasti “it signifies.” What is explained, though, is not the grammar and syntax (as one might expect on the analogy of Sanskrit commentaries), but rather what the significance of the words might be. Often the grammar is so tortured that it is difficult to discern what a comment means. The impression this gives is that (1) the exegetical texts being quoted were scarcely understood, and (2) that those texts themselves were probably composed by men who struggled with the language. All of this points to a period of time long after Standard Avestan was a living language.

If it is true that the conceptual organization of the Yasna is such that the most sacred elements of the tradition are enclosed by the protective shield of the sacred prayers, one wonders why, outside of this framework, Gāθic passages are quoted freely. For example, Y. 5 in its entirety is a quotation of Y. 37. That is, the Yasna itself seems to freely violate this principle of its structure. One might surmise that we have to do here with accretions that have built up over time. Y. 11.18 presents an interesting case of a Gāθic passage that must have been someone’s gloss to a word in the particular liturgical piece, a gloss that then became mechanically a part of the liturgy. As demonstrated under HOM YAŠT, Y. 11.9 presupposes a written text of the Gāθās using the Avestan alphabet. This means that this passage, which appears as an appendix to the Hōm Yašt, cannot have been composed prior to the invention of the script. At the earliest this would be 4th century C.E., though it could well be much later.

Just as the liturgy accompanying the yasna has evolved over time, so too the ritual itself. Y. 22.2 contains an important hint at the evolution of the ritual. In a formulaic series of “I take in worship” (āyese yešti), after the enumeration of the elements of the libation (haoma, water, milk, pomegranate) we find “And I take in worship the two stone presses (asmana-ca hāwana); and I take in worship the two metal presses (ayaŋhaēna-ca hāwana).” What this suggests is that at that time the ancient mode of pressing the haoma with stones (cf. Ved. grāvaṇā) was being superceded by the brass mortar and pestle used to this day. Another evolution of the ritual concerns the barəsman (see BARSOM). The Avestan text clearly describes sticks which are strewn (fra√star-) and held in the left hand (Vd. 19.17-19), and this was still the practice in late Sasanian times (Modi, p. 281); yet in modern practice they are bundled, thin metal rods placed in the two māhrūy holders. The drōn, now bread consumed by the zōd, is a replacement for the flesh offering. The eight priests of the ancient yasna were reduced in number to two (zōd and rāspīg). The names of the eight priests are preserved in Avestan (zaotar, hāwanān, āsnātar, ātrəwaxš, sraošāwarəz, ābərət, raēθβiškara, f rabərətar, qqv.) and mentioned with their duties in the Nērangistān, while the rāspīg (< *rāθβīka; cf. OInd. ṛtvíj) is also mentioned in the Pahlavi of that text, but without Avestan equivalent. It may well be that, while the norm for the high ritual called for a full staff of eight priests, in popular practice two priests who assumed the functions of the others were tacitly allowed without being mentioned in Avestan texts. Since the Nērangistān, a mixed work of Avestan quotations bearing on ritual and long commentaries in Pahlavi, appears to date from the close of the Sasanian period, its recognition (Chap. 28) of the essential components of the Yasna as it is known today, would place the basic configuration of the Yasna within the same time frame (see Kotwal and Kreyenbroek, pp. 17 f.), although Islamic period accretions cannot be ruled out.

The manuscript tradition. The fundamental description of the manuscripts and the tracing of their various lineages was undertaken by Geldner (1896) in his “Prolegomena.” While his treatment of the Pahlavi (and Sanskrit) Yasna tradition is fairly clearly laid out, his discussions of the other Yasna traditions are difficult to find and to follow. To clarify these obscurities, Hoffmann (1984) published a concise delineation of all the Yasna traditions, with particular emphasis on the Gāθās, on the basis of Geldner’s "Prolegomena.” Although all MSS traditions ultimately stem from Iran, one must distinguish Iranian from Indian, as the two communities’ traditions developed independently of each other. The MSS may be grouped under three general classes: I. The Pahlavi Yasna. These MSS consist of the Avestan text accompanied by a Pahlavi gloss/commentary. Through colophons the entire family can be traced back to the MS of Farnbag, ca. 1100, itself derived from two MSS of ca. 1020.They are the most important MSS. For a full genealogical tree, see Geldner (p. xxxiv; reproduced by Humbach, 1991, Pt. I, p. 66). This class consists of

a. the Iranian Pahlavi Yasna, whose authoritative MSS are Pt 4 (1780), Mf 4 (no date), Mf 1 (1741, lacking the Pahl.), all of which ultimately derive from the ca. 1200 MS of Māhpānāh;

b. the Indian Pahlavi Yasna, whose authoritative MSS are K 5 (1323), J 2 (1323), both of which ultimately derive from the ca. 1200 MS of Māhpānāh;

c. the Sanskrit Yasna: ca. 1200 Neryosangh wrote a translation of the Pahlavi in Sanskrit. This became the basis of the Indian Sanskrit Yasna, whose authoritative MSS are S1 (perhaps 14th/15 cent.), J 3 (no date). These MSS ultimately derive from the ca. 1100 Ms of Farnbag, the same MS copied by Māhpānāh.

II. The Vendīdād Sāde. These MSS are actually of the Yasna, into which have been inserted the Vendīdād and Vispered, and were used for liturgical purposes outside of the regular Yasna proper. The term sāde “pure” indicates that these text are not accompanied by the Pahlavi gloss. This class consists of

a. the Iranian Vendīdād Sāde, whose authoritative MSS are Mf 2 (1618), Jp1 (1638), K 4 (1732), all of which can be traced back to a hypothetical MS of ca. 1510.

b. the Indian Vendīdād Sāde. As a whole these MSS are of slight value for textual criticism, in that they have been thoroughly influenced by popular pronunciation employed in the oral performance. Nevertheless, they all derive ultimately from a MS written in India prior to 1300, a MS that itself seems to have been defective, yet which preserved readings occasionally better than those of I a, b.

III. The Indian Yasna Sāde. Like those of II b, these MSS are of slight text-critical value.

The yasna ritual. The yasna is the central ritual of Zoroastrianism, which has as its focus the consumption and preparation of the sacred drink of immortality haoma. It must be performed daily, in the morning watch, by qualified priests only. While each performance has a lay patron, the laity is barred from entry into the sacred space (pāvī) where the ritual is performed. In modern practice the yasna is always performed in a designated space within a fire-temple (dar-e mihr). The following summary of the ritual is based on observations of modern, mostly Parsi, practices (see Darmesteter, 1892) whose running commentary on the translation of the Yasna includes notes on performance (Modi, 1922, and Kotwal and Boyd, 1994, especially). The ritual actions and the choreography of the priestly gestures can be given only in the barest outline here.

There are two separate rituals involving hōm (Av. haoma), one of which is not part of the yasna proper. This is the paragṇā, a ritual carried out by the rāspīg prior to the yasna. In it, the rāspīg prepares the parāhōm (Av. para.haoma), that is, the hōm which will be comsumed by the zōd at the conclusion of the recitation of the Hōm Yašt section of the Yasna. Also, in preparation for the yasna the sacred bread or drōn must be baked, and water necessary for both libations and cleansing must be brought from the well located within the precincts of the temple. The chamber within the temple where the yasna is to be performed must be maintained in a state of utmost purity, the sacred space being bordered by furrows. The pāvī is oriented on a north/south axis. There is a raised stone seat for the zōd at the north end facing south, in front of which is the main stone table, on which are mortar and pestle for the pounding of the hōm plant, two holders for the barsman (tied with a datepalm leaf cord), a knife, filter, and various cups for holding water (āb) and libations (zōhr); also present are the haoma twigs, a pomegranate, and (goat’s) milk. To the south is the fire-stand with small tables to the west for kindling wood and incense, near which the rāspīg takes his stand. To the west of the main table is another table for other water vessels. Both priests must be in a state of complete physical and spiritual purity.

The opening invocations of Y. 1.1-2 serve to bring the divine beings with their powers within the sacrificial precinct. First to be invoked is Ahura Mazdā, followed by the Aməša Spəntas, with the addition of Gəˊuš Tašan, Gəˊuš Urwan, and Ātar. Within the rubric of secs. 3-7 various deities are invoked according to their time of worship during the five watches of the day (the asnyas). The periods of time are expanded to the three phases of the Moon (the māhyas) in sec. 8, the divisions of the year (the yāryas) including the five gāhāmbārs, the intercalary days (hamaspaθmaēdaya), and the years (sarəδas, i.e., New Year) in sec. 9. Secs. 10-23 contain further invocations of deities with some repetitions of those in secs. 1-9. Y. 3-8 are traditionally known as Srōš Drōn, because during their recitation the zōd comsumes the bread (drōn) with butter (gōšudāg). At the conclusion of the Hōm Yašt (Y. 9-11.11), the zōd takes three draughts of the parāhōm. Following the extended confession (Frāwarānē) and the commentaries on the sacred prayers, Y. 22 through the Ahunawaitī Gāθā (collectively called Hōmāst) accompany the second preparation of the haoma. For the most part, the remainder of the yasna is recitation without significant ritual action. After the conclusion of the yasna, the zōd takes some of the hōm already prepared during the Hōmāst and, leaving the pāvī, pours the hōm into the well. Remaining portions of the drōn may be given to the lay patron.

Meaning of the yasna. Since the latter part of the 20th century, increasing importance has been placed on the performance aspect of ritual, in recognition that meaning in ritual often cannot be fully explained in terms of a verbal narrative (for Zoroastrianism, see Williams and Boyd). The attempt of some scholars (esp. Molé) to read the Yasna text as a narrative of cosmic creation and eschatological conclusion fails for a variety of reasons, though basically because the text is significant for its mąθric power, not for its cognitive function (see Darrow, 1988). This is not to say that the text is meaningless, rather that it cannot be read as a descriptive guide to the ritual. Nevertheless, there is a theological framework within which the ritual derives its meaning. Basic is the idea that Ahura Mazdā has fashioned his spiritual and material creations in response to the assault of Aŋra Mainyu and his evil creations; and that within his good creation there is a constant dialogic relationship between the spiritual world (Pahl. mēnōg) and the material (Pahl. gētīg; see GĒTĪG AND MĒNŌG). The maintenance of cosmic stability depends on the integrity of this relationship. While an immediate purpose of the yasna is the blessings of the divine beings on the patron and his wider community, including the departed, the underlying goal of the ritual is the daily maintenance of cosmic integrity. The pure and undefiled actors and requisites for the drama are the material counterparts of the spiritual entities. Far from being a symbolic act, the proper performance of the yasna is what prevents the cosmos from falling into chaos.

Bibliography:

M. Boyce, A History of Zoroastrianism I, Leiden, 1975, pp. 147-77.

J. W. Boyd and W. R. Darrow, A Zoroastrian Ritual: the Yasna, Fort Collins, 1982 (a videotape demonstration performance by Dastur Kotwal). J. Darmesteter, Le Zend-Avesta I, Paris, 1892.

W. R. Darrow, “Keeping the Waters Dry,” Journal of the American Academy of Religion, 56, 1988, pp. 417-42.

K. F. Geldner, Avesta, the Sacred Books of the Parsis I, Stuttgart, 1896.

K. Hoffmann, “Zur Handschriftüberlieferung der Gathas,” MSS 43, 1984, pp. 123-31.

H. Humbach, The Gāthās of Zarathushtra, Heidelberg, 1991. J. Kellens, “Commentaire sur les premiers chapitres du Yasna,” JA, 284, 1996, pp. 37-108.

F. M. Kotwal and J. W. Boyd, “The Zoroastrian paragṇā Ritual,” J. of Mithraic Studies 2, 1977, pp. 18-52.

Idem, A Persian Offering. The Yasna, a Zoroastrian High Liturgy, Paris, 1991.

F. M. Kotwal and Ph. G. Kreyenbroek, The Hērbedestān and Nērangestān III, Paris, 2003.

W. W. Malandra, “Notes on the Avestan Grammatical Tradition,” in M.M. Deshpande and P. E. Hook Indian Linguistic Studies, Delhi, 2002, pp. 223-33.

J. J. Modi, The Religious Ceremonies and Customs of the Parsees, Bombay, 1922.

M. Molé, Culte, mythe et cosmologies dans l’Iran ancien, Paris, 1963.

A. Panaino, “Aspects of the Interiorization of the Sacrifice,” in Stausberg, 2004, pp. 233-252. M. Stausberg, ed., Zoroastrian Rituals in Context, Leiden, 2004 [esp. his essay “Contextualizing the Contexts”].

R. G. Williams and J. W. Boyd, Ritual Art and Knowledge, Columbia, S.C., 1993.

F. Wolff, Avesta, Strassburg, 1910, pp. 3-104.

For further references see under SACRIFICE. IN ZOROASTRIANISM and other cross-referenced articles in EIr.

March 3, 2006

(William W. Malandra)

Originally Published: August 15, 2006

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YAŠTS the group of 21 Avestan hymns in praise of various deities of the Zoroastrian pantheon. In principle, each is entirely devoted to the praise of one particular deity and can be recited by any member of the community, priest or layperson, male or female

YAŠTS, the group of 21 Avestan hymns in praise of various deities of the Zoroastrian pantheon. They form an important and integral part of the sacred texts of the Zoroastrians collected in the Avesta. In principle, each Yašt (abbreviated Yt.) is entirely devoted to the praise of one particular deity and can be recited by any member of the community, priest or layperson, male or female (Choksy and Kotwal, 2005). In the contemporary understanding, the Yašts thus differ from the Yasna (abbreviated Y.), which is celebrated to worship the entire Zoroastrian pantheon but only by priests within the fire temple. Historically, however, the Yašts also formed part of a priestly high ritual, the Bagān Yasn, now lost, by way of their intercalation into the Yasna cum Visperad, along the model exemplified by the Vištāsp Yašt Sāde (Kreyenbroek, 2004, 2008, pp. 254-56; Cantera, 2009; König. 2012; Kellens, 2012, p. 475). The earliest historical reference to the Yašts is widely thought to be found in the Histories (I 132) of the Greek historian Herodotus (ca. 484-425 BCE), who relates that during a sacrifice by the Persians a Magus (see MAGI) stands close by and recites a ‘theogony.’ Most scholars have interpreted the latter term as an Avestan composition similar to or identical with a Yašt (de Jong, 1997, p. 118 with fn. 140).

Name. While the nouns yasna- and yašt both derive from the same Avestan verb yaz “to worship ritually,” yasna- is an Avestan word, but yašt a Middle Persian (Pahlavi) form, possibly from Avestan yašta- “worshipped” (Nyberg, 1938, p. 52; Panaino, 1994). In the Avesta, the Yašts are referred to as a yasna- in which a sacred being “worthy of worship” (Av. yazata-, Pahl. yaz(a)d) is worshipped and invoked by the repeated declaration of his or her name. In particular, both Miθra and Tištrya insist on being worshipped with an aoxtō.nāmana yasna “a sacrifice in which one’s name is pronounced” (Yt. 8.11, 23-25; 10.30, 31, 54-56, 74), and Miθra is described as “a sacred being whose name is uttered” (aoxtō.nāman- yazata- Y. 1.3, 2.3; S 1.16, 2.16). In the Avesta the word yasna- either refers to the Yasna Haptanghaiti or is an ordinary noun “sacrifice, worship” (Hintze, 2004, pp. 311-15) referring to the hymns addressed to individual deities as well as to the praise of the entire pantheon. The Middle Persian terms yasn and yašt (yast) are interchangeable in the Pahlavi literature, in the Pahlavi headings of the Yašt manuscripts, and in Kirdēr’s (see KARTIR) inscriptions (Kellens, 1998, pp. 480 f.; Panaino, 2006, p. 171).

Transmission. The Yašts are transmitted in two types of manuscript: Khorde Avestas and pure Yašt codices. The oldest Khorde Avesta is Jm4 (1352 CE, Geldner, 1886-1896, I, p. v) and the principal and oldest extant pure Yašt codex is F1 (1591 CE, JamaspAsa, 1992). Some Khorde Avestas, including E1 (1601 CE), J10, K12, and Pt1, incorporate all the Yašts, others only a selection which varies according to the manuscript (Panaino, 1989 [1992], pp. 177-79). By far the most popular hymn is the one to Ahura Mazdā (Yt. 1, Ohrmazd Yt.), which features in virtually all Khorde Avestas. Other common hymns are Yašts 2 (Haft Ameshaspend), 3 (Ardibehešt), 11 (Srōš), and 14 (Bahirām). Two Yašts are transmitted not only in the Yašt and Khorde Avesta manuscripts but also in those of the Yasna: the Srōš Yašt (Yt. 11a) constitutes chapter 57 of the Yasna and the Hōm Yašt (Yt. 20), which is abbreviated in F1 and E1 but fully written in J10 and the collective codex Ml2, its sections 8.9-10.21.

Yašts and Bagān Yašt Nask. Of the 21 Nasks, or divisions, of the Sasanian Avesta, now lost in this arrangement, the Yašts comprised the Bagān Yašt Nask, the seventh of the dādīg section (see BAGĀN YAŠT; König, 2012, pp. 359-70). According to the brief summary of its contents in Dēnkard 8.15, the Bagān Yašt Nask was primarily about the worship of Ohrmazd, the foremost of the deities (bagān; see BAGA), secondly, about that of the visible and invisible Yazads from whom the names of the days derive, and finally, about that of the many other Yazads who are invoked in any Yašt in which a deity’s personal name is pronounced (awēšān any-z was yazdān ī andar ān ī awēšān yast guft-nām hēnd, Dk. 8.15.2). This summarizes three characteristics of the Yašts: first that Ohrmazd is the principal deity and his hymn the most important one, secondly that some Yašts are correlated with the days of a month, and thirdly that the number of Yašts is potentially as unlimited as that of the Yazatas (cf. Darmesteter, 1892-93, p. xxvii; Kellens, 1998, pp. 510-11; on a lost Avestan hymn to Vohu Manah, see BAHMAN YAŠT).

In contrast to the Dēnkard account, which provides no details as to the number of Yašts, some Persian Rivāyats state that the Bagān Yašt Nask consisted of sixteen Yašts, although some fluctuation as to the number of Yašts is indicated by the fact that other Persian Rivāyats mention seventeen (Kotwal and Hintze, 2008, pp. 1-2). The figure of sixteen Yašts agrees with the numbering provided by the manuscripts F1 and E1, which entitle Yašts 14 to 19 as Fargards 11 to 16 (JasmaspAsa, 1991, pp. xi-xii). Yašts 1 and 5-19 of the manuscripts accordingly correspond to the sixteen Yašts of the Bagān Yašt Nask. In total, the manuscripts F1 and E1 incorporate the text of twenty-two Yašts, of which Yt. 11, the Srōš Yašt Hāδōxt, is explicitly marked as taken from the Hāδōxt Nask (məhe yasta srōš əz naska hāδōxta bun, see JamaspAsa, 1991, p. 157). Of the remaining Yašts transmitted in the Avestan manuscripts, the five Yašts 2-4 and 20-21 are not counted among the 16 or 17 Fargards of the Bagān Yašt Nask.

Yašts and Sīrōze. In Zoroastrian religious practice, the Yazatas and Yašts are closely connected with the calendar (see CALENDARS). Yazatas provide the names of both the thirty days of the month, enumerated in Yasna 16.3-6 (Kellens, 1998, pp. 506-7), and of the twelve months of the year. The earliest evidence for the use of the Zoroastrian day names is the expression bywm dyn “on the day Dainā” (day 24 of the Zoroastrian calendar) in an Aramaic leather document from Bactria, possibly dated 329 BCE (C3 (Khalili IA 22; lines 2 and, perhaps, 18, see Naveh and Shaked, 2012, pp. 35-36, 195, 261). Each day is presided over by a divine being, a certain Yazata who is invoked on that particular day with a special formula preserved in the Siroza (see SĪH-RŌZAG; Raffaelli, 2014). The order of the days agrees with that in which the Yašts are arranged in the manuscripts. In theory, each day would be expected to have its own hymn, but in fact the agreement between Yašts and Siroza is only partial (Panaino, 1989 [1992], pp. 173-76). Thus, neither Yašts 20 (Hōm) nor 21 (Vanant) have a name day, and there is no hymn in praise of Ātar (day 9), Vāta (day 22), Āsmān (day 27), Mąθra Spəṇta (day 29), or Anaγra Raocah (day 30). Such discrepancies indicate that the association between Yašts and days of the month came about over a period of time. Some of the days may have been associated with a Yašt for deliberate, theological reasons, such as the association of Mąθra Spəṇta (day 29) with Haoma (Yt. 20) and of Anaγra Raocah (day 30) with the star Vanant (Yt. 21). Similarly, there is a natural and mythological affinity of the Waters (Ābān, day 10) with Anāhitā (Yt. 5), and of Gə̄uš Urvan (day 14) with the animal goddess Druvāspā (Yt. 9), while the link between the Zamyād Yašt (Yt. 19), which is chiefly in praise of the Glory (xvarənah-; see FARR[AH]), and the Earth (day 28) is motivated by the list of mountains at the beginning of the hymn. No individual Yašt exists for any of the four Amesha Spentas (see AMƎŠA SPƎNTA), to whom days 2 (Vohu Manah), 4 (Xšaθra Vairya), 5 (Spəṇta Ārmaiti) and 7 (Amərətāt) are dedicated, but their praise may be collectively covered by the Haft Aməšāspəṇta Yašt (Yt. 2; Belardi 1977, p. 154, n. 2). Similarly, the Rām Yašt (Yt. 15), which praises the Good Wind (Vayu, day 21), could have doubled up as a hymn in praise of Vāta, the Wind (day 22) (Kellens, 1998, p. 509). Arštāt is mentioned in the hymn of Day 26 (Yt. 18) only in the initial Pazand invocation. However, this hymn which praises the Aryan Glory (airiianəm xvarənah-) might have been associated with that day because of its proximity to the other hymn in praise of the Glory, Yt. 19, on Day 28. Days 1, 8, 15, and 23 bear the name of the principal deity, the ‘creator Ahura Mazdā,’ a fact which accounts for the frequency of the Ohrmazd Yašt in the Khorde Avesta (see Table 1).

Deities praised in the Yašts. The Yašts are in praise of a heterogeneous range of Yazatas, who may be divided into four groups. The first comprises deities with roots in Indo-Iranian, namely Haoma (Y. 9-11, Yt. 20, Vedic sóma-), Miθra (Yt. 10, Vedic mitrá-), and Vərəθraγna (Yt. 14; cf. Vedic vṛtra-hán- “breaking resistance”; Kellens, 2012, pp.481-85); the second, the Iranian divinities Arəduuī Sūrā Anāhitā (Yt. 5), Druuuāspā (Yt. 9) and the ‘Glory’ (xvarənah-; Yt. 18 and 19). The third consists of divine beings who embody natural phenomena, such as the sun (Xwaršēd, Yt. 6), moon (Māh, Yt. 7), wind (Vayu, Yt. 15 = Rām Yašt), and stars Tištriia (Yt. 8) and Vanant (Yt. 21); and the fourth, the specifically Zoroastrian Yazatas Ahura Mazdā (Yt. 1), the Amesha Spentas (Yt. 2), Aṣ̌a (Yt. 3), Hauruuatāt (Yt. 4), Sraoša (‘Hearkening’, Yt. 11, Y. 56-57), Rašnu (“Justice,” Yt. 12), the Fravashis (“Choices,” Yt. 13), Cistā (“insight,” Yt. 16 = Dēn Yašt), and Aṣ̌i Vaŋvhī (“Good Reward,” Yt. 17).

Meter. Apart from the Gathas, the Yašts are the only other Avestan texts that are metrical, although the meter is far more irregular and its nature subject to continuing scholarly debate. K. F. Geldner (1877) noticed that verse lines of eight syllables dominate, but the existence of many with more or less syllables remains an unsolved problem (research surveys in Panaino, 1989 [1992], pp. 180-83; Hintze, 1994, pp. 52-54; and Kellens 2006, pp. 257-60). Different explanations have been put forward to account for the observed irregularity. According to one proposal, the number of syllables per verse line varies because the meter is conditioned by a word’s emphatic accent rather than its number of syllables. Appealing to verse poetry in Middle Iranian languages, which were dominated by a stress of great intensity, W. B. Henning (1942, pp. 52-56) argued that each line generally had three stresses and a varied number of unstressed syllables. This yielded an average of around eight syllables per line, but occasionally significantly more or less depending on the length of the words employed. However, a strong emphatic accent, which is characteristic of Middle Iranian languages (see PROSODY i. MIDDLE PERSIAN) and the principal cause of significant morphological change from Old to Middle Iranian, is unlikely to have existed at the time when the earliest Yašts were composed. The presence of a functioning inflectional system suggests that the Avestan accent was of the same type as that of the closely related Vedic language (Kellens, 2006, p. 259). G. Lazard (1984 and 1990) has conclusively demonstrated that the meter of the Yašts is dominated neither by an expiratory accent nor by syllabic quantity but by the octosyllabic verse line, although the many exceptions and correct way of counting the syllables in Young Avestan remain open questions (Hintze, 1994, p. 53, fn. 148; Pirart, 2004, pp. 149-248; Kellens, 2006). C. Rimunicci- Heine (forthcoming) argues that, in addition to the standard octosyllabic verse line, the meter of the Yašts allows for a variety of syllables per verse line and a flexible caesura.

Types of Yašts. While the Yašts, like most of the Avesta, usually entail a dialogue between Ahura Mazdā and Zarathustra, they differ considerably from one another with regard to length, character, and poetic structure. As to length, the shortest one, the hymn to Vanant (Yt. 21) consists of one stanza only, plus introductory and concluding formulae, while the longest, the Frawardīn Yašt (Yt. 13), is made up of 158 stanzas divided into 31 sections or Kardes. With regard to their character and poetic structure, the Yašts have been grouped into ‛legendary,’ ‛hymnic,’ and ‛minor’ types (Kellens, 1978; Skjærvø, 1994, p. 212). The principal structuring device of the ‘legendary’ and ‘hymnic’ Yašts is a series of recurrent verses which demarcate the beginning and end of a section. The opening lines of a Karde vary from hymn to hymn but are the same within a given Yašt and always include mention of the name and some characteristics of the deity to whom the hymn is dedicated. For instance, each of the Kardes (30) in Yt. 5 opens with the verses “May you, O Spitama Zarathustra, worship her, Arəduuī Sūrā Anāhitā” (Yt. 5.1, 10, etc.); those (35) in Yt. 10 with “We worship Miθra of wide cattle grazing” (Yt. 10.7, 10, etc.); and those (15) in Yt. 19 either with “We worship the mighty Glory belonging to the Kavis” (Yt. 19.9, 13, etc.) or, in the three central ones, with “We worship the mighty un-taken Glory” (Yt. 19.45, 55, 65). With the exception of the Rašn Yašt (Yt. 12), where the formulaic invocation of Rašnu (Yt. 12.5-8) is repeated at the end of each of its 30 sections, and of the Frawardīn Yašt (Yt. 13), the concluding verses of a Karde typically start with “because of his (i.e. Ahura Mazdā’s (?)) wealth and glory I shall worship him/her with audible worship” (ahe raiia xvarənaŋhaca təm/tąm yazāi surunuuata yasna). This is then followed by the deity’s name, further formulaic verses, and finally, the Yeŋ́ hē hātąm prayer, which recurs at the end of every Karde. The number of octosyllabic or other verse lines that intervene within the introductory and concluding frame is open. For instance, 6 lines form the body of Karde 4 of the Ābān Yašt (Yt. 5.14- 15), but 136 that of Karde 6 of the Zamyād Yašt (Yt. 19.30-45), one of the longest sections. Moreover, a particular theme may be expanded or compressed according to the demands of the occasion, a typical feature of oral poetry (Skjærvø, 1994, p. 212 with references). For instance, Yt. 5.38 describes only one of the exploits of the hero Kərəsāspa, namely, the slaying of Gaṇdarəβa, but in slightly different terms from the account of the same incident (along with several others) in Yt. 19.38-44. The Kardes constitute the characteristic and intrinsic poetic form of the ‘legendary’ and ‘hymnic’ Yašts, which in manuscripts such as F1 and E1 are numbered. By contrast, their further subdivision into stanzas is not found in these manuscripts, but was only introduced by the first editor of the Avesta, N. L. Westergaard, for the convenience of quoting passages (Hintze, 1994, pp. 277-78; 2009, pp. 49-54). The Yašts of the third group are characterized by apotropaic verses similar to those found in the Vīdēvdād (see VENDĪDĀD) and by a lack of the structuring device found in the Kardes. All Yašts share the similar introductory (stanza 0) and concluding verses. They vary only with regard to a formula from Sīrōza 1, which depends on the deity to whom the hymn is dedicated (Darmesteter, 1892-93, II, p. 332; Lommel, 1927, pp. 8-12). The introductory verses consist of text in Pāzand, quotations from Y. 17-19, the Gathas (Y. 33.14), and Siroze 1 and, finally, the Ahuna Vairya prayer. The appropriate formula from the Gāhs depends on the time of the day at which the hymn is recited. The conclusion again starts with a text in Pāzand and continues with quotations from Nyāyišn 1.17, the appropriate formula from Sīrōza 1 and passages from Y. 68.11 and 72.11. The quotations from the Yasna in the introductory and concluding verses reinforce the relationship between the Yašts and the daily liturgy of the Yasna.

‘Legendary’ Yašts. The first, ‛legendary’, group is comprised of the six hymns Yt. 5 (Ardwīsūr, see ĀBĀN YAŠT), 9 (Druwāsp, see GŌŠ YAŠT), 15 (Rām, in praise of Vayu), 16 (in praise of Cistā, see DĒN YAŠT), 17 (see ARD YAŠT), and 19 (see ZAMYĀD YAŠT; Kellens 1999). The classification of these hymns as ‛legendary’ is based on the distinctive feature that they predominantly, though not exclusively, relate the names and stories of previous worshippers of the deity. Both Ahura Mazdā and a succession of heroes and rulers were able to carry out the feats for which they are famous because they had previously prayed and sacrificed to the deity praised in the hymn or because, in the case of Yašt 19, they were accompanied by the Kavyan Glory (see KAYĀNIĀN xii). The story of each worshipper typically constitutes one Karde. The chronological order in which they are arranged is fixed, with the god Ahura Mazdā at the head, followed by kings and heroes, including Haošyaŋha, Yima, Θraētaona, Kərəsāspa, and a series of Kavis, especially Haosravah. The catalogue usually concludes with Zarathustra, who in Yt. 5.103-105 constitutes the fulfillment of Ahura Mazdā’s wish expressed at the beginning of the hymn (Yt. 5.18), followed by Kavi Vištāspa and, finally, in Yašt 19, the Victorious Saošyant and his comrades. The mythical and legendary history of the Iranian people as related in the Yašts largely agrees with that of the Persian epic, especially Ferdowsī’s Šāh-nāma (Darmesteter 1892-93, II, pp. xxviii-xxxii; Kellens, 1976; see EPICS; KAYĀNIĀN).

The Karde structure provides ample room for variation with regard to the number and choice of worshippers and to the detail with which their stories are recounted. For instance, additional sacrificers such as Taxma Urupi Azinavant (Yt. 15.10-13; 19.27-31), Haoma (Yt. 9.16- 19; 17.36-40), Paurva (Yt. 5.60-66), and the Kavis (Yt. 19.71) may be inserted at the correct chronological point. Moreover, stories may be told in greater detail, such as for instance the story of Yima in Yt. 19.30-44, and the chariot race of Kavi Haosravah in Yt. 19.73-78, which is merely alluded to in Yt. 5.50 (Hintze 2009, pp. 54-57). Although parts of the ‘legendary’ Yašts consists of ready-made formulaic phrases, there are also significant variations. For example, Ahura Mazdā’s wish presented to the deity is usually that Zarathustra may embrace the Daēnā Māzdaiiasni (see DĒN), but in Yt. 15 it is that the god may slay the creations of Angra Mainyu but that no one might slay those of Spəṇta Mainyu (Yt. 15.3). Similarly, Zarathustra usually requests that Vištāspa may become his follower, but in Yt. 9.26 it is Hutaosā, the legendary sister and wife of Vištāspa. Another woman, Hvōvī, appears as a sacrificer to “Insight,” Cistā, in Yt. 16.15 and desires Zarathustra to become her husband (vohu.baγəm). The composition of Yt. 16 is unusual in so far as the list of sacrificers begins, rather than concludes, with Zarathustra, who occupies the first four Kardes (Yt. 16.1-13). There is also variation with regard to the location of the sacrifices. For example, Haošyaŋha Paraδāta usually worships at the foot of the mountain Harā, but in Yt. 15.7 does so on its peak. ‘Hymnic’ Yašts. The second, ‛hymnic’ group comprises the six hymns Yt. 8 (Tištar; see TIŠTRYA), 10 (see MIHR YAŠT), 11 (Srōš), 12 (see RAŠN YAŠT), 13 (see FRAWARDĪN YAŠT) and 14 (Bahrām). In contrast to the ‘legendary’ Yašts, which focus on stories and characteristics of worshippers whose ritual activity is denoted by the verbal form yazata “he/she worshipped,” the ‘hymnic’ Yašts predominantly describe features and functions of the deity praised in each hymn (Skjærvø, 1994, p. 220). The characteristic verbal form here is “we worship” (yazamaide) and occasionally “I worship” (yaze) or “I shall worship” (yazāi, Kellens, 1978, p. 263; Skjærvø, 1994, pp. 232-33). The hymns comprise mythological-cosmological sections relating the deity’s exploits, such as, for example, Tištrya’s fight both with Apaoša, the demon of drought (Yt. 8.13-34) and with the “witches” (pairikā), who probably correspond to shooting stars (Yt. 8.39-40), Miθra’s revenge on those who break the contract (Yt. 10.35- 43; see MITHRA i), the role of the Fravašis in cosmology (Yt. 13.1- 95), and the abodes of Rašnu in cosmography (Yt. 12.9-37). Themes which several ‘hymnic’ Yašts share include the deity’s desire to be worshipped with a ritual in which the deity’s name is pronounced (aoxtō.nāmana yasna, Yt. 10. 53-57, 73-74 and Yt. 8.10-11, 23-25), and the protection for Aryan countries which worship of the deity provides against famine and diseases in Yt. 8.56-61 and Yt. 14.48- 53.

‘Minor’ or ‘apotropaic’ Yašts. The remaining nine Yašts are comprised of Yt. 1 (Ohrmazd), 2 (Amahraspand), 3 (see ARDWAHIŠT YAŠT), 4 (Hordād, see Swennen, 2006), 6 (Xwaršēd), 7 (see MĀH YAŠT), 18 (see ĀŠTĀD YAŠT), 20 (see HŌM YAŠT) and 21 (Wanand). The classification of these hymns as ‛minor’ is based on the conviction that, in comparison to the legendary and hymnic Yašts, they are both shorter and of inferior quality, their content being more repetitive, their poetic form less metrical and their language less grammatical. However, the validity of such value judgements has been rightly questioned (Skjærvø, 1994, pp. 233-40). A more appropriate characterization of these hymns might therefore be ‘apotropaic.’ Yt. 1, for instance, consists of a list of Ahura Mazdā’s names whose apotropaic function it then extols (Yt. 1.1-19, Panaino, 2002; Choksy and Kotwal, 2005, pp. 228-29). It continues in stanza 20 with quotations from the Gathas (Y. 44.16) and holy prayers combined with homage to various Ahuric beings (Yt. 1.21-23), praises the protective and healing powers of the six Amesha Spentas (Yt. 1.24- 27), who are enumerated individually as dwelling in Ahura Mazdā’s ‛house’ (mana dąmi, Yt. 1.25), and concludes with repeated praises of his ears, mind, and tongue for grasping, memorizing, and pronouncing the Life-giving Formula (mąθra- spəṇta-, Yt. 1.28-33).

Most Yašts of this group recall or quote other texts of the Avesta. The hymn to the star Vanant, Yt. 21, for example, which in religious practice is recited as an apotropaic incantation (nērang) against obnoxious creatures (Panaino, 1993-94, p. 120), is connected with the Tištar Yašt (Panaino 1989). Some sections are identical with texts of the Khorde Avesta. For example, most of Yt. 2 coincides with Sīrōza 1 and 2 (Yt. 2.1-5 = S. 1.1- 7, Yt. 2.6-10 = S. 2.1-7) and the Xwaršēd and Māh Niyāyišn (Ny. 1 and 3) are made up of portions from the hymns to Xwaršēd (Yt. 6) and Māh (Yt. 7), respectively, while the Mihr Niyāyišn (Ny. 2) consists of quotations from the Yašt to Mihr (Yt. 10), and the Ābān Niyāyišn (Ny. 4) of those from that to Ardvīsūr (Yt. 5, Panaino, 2012). Other Yašts of this group have affinity with the Vidēvdād. In particular, Yt. 4 comprises a magic spell that smites Deceit (Yt. 4.5) and describes a ritual which entails making in the ground furrows that recall the layout of the Barešnum Gāh described in Fargard 9 of the Vidēvdād (Panaino 2003).

The boundaries between the three groups of Yašts, however, are by no means rigid. The first four and last Kardes of the ‛legendary’ Ābān Yašt (Yt. 5) are ‘hymnic’ in character, as are the first two of the Ard Yašt (Yt. 17.1-22), which also includes the unique story of the encounter between Zarathustra and the goddess Aṣ̌i. There are ‘hymnic’ passages in virtually all the ‘legendary’ Yašts and some of the latter share features with the third, ‘apotropaic,’ group. Yt. 15, for example, has the Karde structure in the first part of the hymn, but lacks it in the final section, which is comprised of a list of names of Ahura Mazdā (Yt. 15.42-58, Panaino, 2002). In the same way, some ‘hymnic’ Yašts contain ‘legendary’ elements. For instance, in the ‛hymnic’ Mihr Yašt (Yt. 10.88), Haoma worships (yazata) Miθra in the same ‘legendary’ manner as he worships other deities in the ‛legendary’ Yašts 9.17 and 17.37, and Ahura Mazdā worships Miθra in the ‘legendary’ style (yazata) in Yt. 10.123, but Tištrya in the ‘hymnic’ style (yaze) in Yt. 8.25.

Origins of the Yašts. In Avestan studies, the Yašts have traditionally figured in discussions of the chronology of the Avesta and the history of the Zoroastrian religion (see the survey in Panaino, 1989 [1992], pp. 164-73). For instance, A. Christensen (1928 and 1931) attempted to distinguish different chronological strata in the Yašts and argued that they represented various pre-Zoroastrian and Zoroastrian layers. By contrast, I. Gershevitch (1959, pp. 16-26) maintained that the Yašts represent a pre-Zoroastrian stratum of religious literature and entered the Avesta after the latter had spread to western Iran under Darius’s father Hystaspes, there creating the religious phenomenon of Zoroastrianism, which he contrasted with Zarathuštrianism, his name for the religion of the Gathas. Reconstructions of this kind, however, have been found inadequate, as it is impossible to distinguish earlier “pre-Zoroastrian” from later “Zoroastrian” passages in these texts (Panaino, 1989 [1992], p. 172; Kellens, 2006, pp. 260- 61).

P. O. Skjærvø (1994, pp. 240-41), who also invokes the involvement of the Achaemenids in consolidating power by the creation of the canon of the Yašts, rightly emphasizes their composition as oral poetry. Like other parts of the Avesta, including Young Avestan sections of the Yasna, Visperad, Vidēvdād, and Khorde Avesta, the Yašts were produced throughout the Old Iranian period in the oral culture of priestly composition, which was alive and productive as long as the priests were able to master the Avestan language. Presumably a much larger body of Yašts, now lost, once existed, their number potentially as unlimited as that of the Yazatas which they praise. The selection and canonization of those that have come down to the present was presumably linked to the development of the Bagān Yasn and Drōn rituals (on these rituals, see Kreyenbroek, 2008, pp. 89-90), of the Zoroastrian calendar, attested in the Avesta (Hintze, 2009a), and of the correlation of the days of the month with the Yazatas and their respective Yašts.

Table 1a. Yašts and Sīrōza, days 1-8.

Table 1b. Yašts and Sīrōza, days 9-16.

Table 1c. Yašts and Sīrōza, days 17-25.

Table 1d. Yašts and Sīrōza, days 26-30.

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Idem, “De la naissance des montagnes à la find du temps: le Yašt 19,” Annuaire du Collège de France 1997-1998. Résumés des cours et travaux, 98ᵉ année, Paris, 1999, pp. 737-64.

Idem, “Promenade dans les Yašts à la lumière de travaux récents,” Annuaire du Collège de France 1998-1999. Résumés des cours et travaux, 99ᵉ année, Paris, 2000, pp. 685-704.

Idem, “Promenade dans les Yašts à la lumière de travaux récents (suite),” Annuaire du Collège de France 1999-2000. Résumés des cours et travaux, 100ᵉ année, Paris, 2001, pp. 721-51. Idem, “L’éloge mazdéen de l’ivresse,” Cours et travaux du Collège de France. Résumés 2002-2003. Annuaire 103ᵉ année, Paris, Collège de France, 2003, pp. 815-45.

Idem, “Sur la métrique de l’Avesta récent,” Journal Asiatique 294, 2006, pp. 257-89.

Idem, “Le panthéon mazdéen: dieux qui survivent et dieux qui naissent,” Cours et travaux du Collège de France. Résumés 2010- 2011. Annuaire 111ᵉ année, Paris, Collège de France, 2012, pp. 471- 88.

G. König, “Das Nask Bayān und das Xorde Awesta,” in A. Cantera, ed., The Transmission of the Avesta, Iranica 20, Wiesbaden, 2012, pp. 355-39.

F. M. Kotwal and A. Hintze, The Khorda Avesta and Yašt Codex E1, Facsimile edition, Iranica 16, Wiesbaden, 2008.

Ph. G. Kreyenbroek, “Ritual and Rituals in the Nērangestān.” in M. Stausberg, ed., Zoroastrian Ritual in Context, Leiden, 2004, pp. 317- 31.

Idem, “The Term Bagān Yasn and the Function of the Yašts in the Zoroastrian Ritual.” in M. Jaafari-Dehaghi, ed., One for the Earth: Prof. Dr. Mahyar Nawabi, Memorial Volume, Tehran, Centre for the Great Islamic Encyclopaedia, 2008, pp. 81-94; repr. in Ph. G. Kreyenbroek, Teachers and Teachings in the Good Religion: Opera Minora on Zoroastrianism, ed. K. Rezania, Wiesbaden, 2013, pp. 251-259.

G. Lazard, “La métrique de l’Avesta récent,” in Orientalia J. Duchesne-Guillemin emerito oblata, Acta Iranica 23, Liège, 1984, pp. 283-300.

Idem, “Composition et métrique dans les yashts de l’Avesta,” in Gh. Gnoli and A. Panaino, eds., Proceedings of the First European Conference of Iranian Studies. Roma, IsMEO, 1990, pp. 217-28.

J. Naveh and Sh. Shaked, Aramaic Documents from Ancient Bactria (Fourth Century BCE.) From The Khalili Collection, London, 2012.

H. S. Nyberg, Die Religionen des Alten Iran, Leipzig, 1938.

A. Panaino, “Gli Yašt dell’Avesta: metodi e prospettivi,” Atti del Sodalizio Glottologico di Milano 30, 1989 [1992], pp. 159-84.

Idem, “L’innologia avestica,” in L’inno tra rituale e letterature nel mondon antico. Atti di un colloquio Napoli 21-24 ottobre 1991, A.I.O.N. sezione filologico-letteraria XIII, Roma 1993-1994, pp. 107- 23.

Idem, “Philologia Avestica IV: Av. yaštay-/yešti-; yašta-; phl. yašt: Quelques réflexions sur les titres des hymnes de l’Avesta,” Studia Iranica 23, 1994, pp. 163-85.

Idem, The Lists of Names of Ahura Mazda (Yašt I) and Vayu (Yašt XV), Serie Orientale Roma XCIV, Roma, Istituto Italiano per l’Africa e l’Oriente, 2002.

Idem, “Some Remarks upon the Initiatic Transmission in the Later Avesta,” in Ātaš-e dorun, Jamshid Soroush Soroushian Memorial Volume II, Bloomington, 2003, pp. 333-42.

Idem, “References to the Term Yašt and Other Mazdean Elements in the Syriac and Greek Martyrologia with a Short Excursus on the Semantic Value of the Greek Verb μαγεύω,” in A. Panaino and A. Piras, eds., Proceedings of the 5th Conference of the Societas Iranologica Europaea held in Ravenna, 6-11 October 2003, Milano, 2006, pp. 167-82.

Idem, “The Niyāyišns Corpus and Its Relationship to the Yašts: The Case of Niyāyišns 6 and 7,” in Enrico G. Raffaelli, ed., Pre-Islamic Iranian Heritage, Special issue, Iranian Studies 45/2, 2012, pp. 261- 73.

E. Raffaelli, The Sih-rozag in Zoroastrianism: A Textual and Historico- religious Analysis, Iranian Studies, London and New York, forthcoming, 2014.

C. Riminucci-Heine, “Zur Metrik im Bahrām Yašt,” in Kongressband des 32. Deutschen Orientalistentages, Münster, 23.- 27.9.2013, forthcoming.

B. Schlerath, Awesta-Wörterbuch. Vorarbeiten I. Index locorum zur Sekundärliteratur des Awesta, Wiesbaden, 1968.

P. O. Skjærvø, “Hymnic Composition in the Avesta,” Die Sprache 36, 1994, pp. 199-243.

Idem, “The Avesta as Source for the Early History of the Iranians,” in G. Erdosy, ed., The Indo-Aryans of Ancient South Asia. Language, Material Culture and Ethnicity. Berlin and New York, 1995, pp. 155- 76.

Ph. Swennen, “Réflexions relatives à l’édition du Hordad Yašt de l’Avesta,” in A. Panaino and A. Piras, ed., Proceedings of the 5th Conference of the Societas Iranologica Europaea held in Ravenna, 6- 11 October 2003, Milano, pp. 225-32.

E. Tichy, “Indoiranische Hymnen,” in W. Burkert and F. Stolz, eds., Hymnen der Alten Welt im Kulturvergleich, Orbis biblicus et orientalis 131, Freiburg (Schweiz) and Göttingen, 1994, pp. 79-95.

Selected Editions and translations of several or all Yašts (cf. Panaino, 1989 [1992], p. 159, fn. 1).

J. Darmesteter, The Zend-Avesta. Part II: The Sîrôzahs, Yasts and Nyâyis, Sacred Books of the East 23, Oxford, 1882. Idem, Le Zend-Avesta. 3 vols., Paris, 1892-1893; repr., Paris, 1960.

K. F. Geldner, Drei Yasht aus dem Zendavesta übersetzt und erklärt, Stuttgart, 1884.

Idem, Avesta. The Sacred Books of the Parsis. Vol. 2: Vispered and Khorda Avesta, Stuttgart, 1889.

H. Lommel, Die Yäšt’s des Awesta, Göttingen, 1927.

E. Pirart, Les Adorables de Zoroastre, textes avestiques traduits et présentés, Paris, 2010.

F. Wolff, Avesta. Die heiligen Bücher der Parser. Übersetzt auf der Grundlage von Chr. Bartholomaes Altiranischem Wörterbuch, Straßburg, 1910; repr., Berlin, 1960.

Editions and translations of individual Yašts.

More recent works only are listed below. For earlier publications see Panaino, 1989 [1992], pp. 160-63 and Schlerath, 1968, pp. 122-92.

Yt. 1: Panaino, 2002 (see above). Yt. 8: A. Panaino, Tištrya. Part I: The Avestan Hymn to Sirius, Serie Orientale Roma 68.1, Roma, IsMEO, 1990.

Yt. 10: I. Gershevitch, The Avestan Hymn to Mithra. With an introduction, translation and commentary, Cambridge, 1959; repr., 1967.

Yt. 11, Y. 56-57: Ph. G. Kreyenbroek, Sraoša in the Zoroastrian Tradition, Leiden, 1985.

Yt. 12: E. Pirart, “Le Rašn Yašt (Yt 12),” in É. Pirart and X. Tremblay, eds., Zarathushtra entre l’Inde et l’Iran. Études indo-iraniennes et indo-européennes offertes à Jean Kellens à l’occasion de son 65e anniversaire. Wiesbaden, 2009, pp. 221-49. L. Goldman, Rašn Yašt. The Avestan Hymn to Justice, forthcoming, 2014.

Yt. 13: W. W. Malandra, “The Fravaši Yašt. Introduction, Text, Translation and Commentary,” PhD diss., University of Pennsylvania, 1971 (microfilm xerography). J. Kellens, Fravardīn Yašt (1-70). Introduction, édition et glossaire, Iranische Texte, Heft 6, Wiesbaden, 1975.

Yt. 14: E. Pirart, Guerriers d’Iran. Traductions annotées des textes avestiques du culte zoroastrien rendu aux dieux Tistriya, Miθra et Vrθragna, Paris, 2006; Ch. Riminucci-Heine, Der Bahrām Yašt, Bonner Asienstudien, Bd. 12, Berlin, forthcoming, 2014.

Yt. 15: Panaino, 2002 (see above). Yt. 16: E. Pirart, “Les épouses de Zoroastre et le Dēn Yašt,” Journal Asiatique 296, 2008, pp. 59-92.

Yt. 17: E. Pirart, L’Aphrodite iranienne. Études de la déesse Arti. Traduction annotée et édition critique des textes avestiques la concernant, Paris, 2006.

Yt. 19: E. Pirart, Kayân Yasn (Yasht 19.9-96). L’origine avestique des dynasties mythiques d’Iran, Aula Orientalis, Supplementa 2, Barcelona, 1992. A. Hintze, Der Zamyād-Yašt, Beiträge zur Iranistik 15, Wiesbaden, 1994. A. Hintze, Zamyād Yašt. Text, Translation, Glossary, Iranische Texte 7, Wiesbaden, 1994. H. Humbach and P. Ichaporia, Zamyād Yasht. Yasht 19 of the Younger Avesta. Text, Translation, Commentary, Wiesbaden,1998.

Yt. 20, Y. 9-11 (Hōm Yašt): J.M. Unvala, Neryosangh’s Sanskrit Version of the Hōm Yašt (Yasna IX-XI) with the original Avesta and its Pahlavi Version, Vienna, 1924. J. Josephson, The Pahlavi Translation Technique as Illustrated by Hōm Yašt, Acta Universitatis Upsaliensis, Studia Iranica Upsaliensia 2, Uppsala 1997. E. Pirart, L’éloge mazdéen de l’ivresse. Édition, traduction et commentaire du Hom Stod, Paris, 2004.

Yt. 21: A. Panaino, “L’inno avestico a Vanant,” Atti del Sodalizio Glottologico Milanese 28, 1987, 21-30.

(Almut Hintze) Originally Published: September 23, 2014

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YAZD iv. THE JEWISH DIALECT OF YAZD

YAZD

iv. THE JEWISH DIALECT OF YAZD

The name “Judeo-Yazdi” is applied to a Central dialect spoken by some Jews of Yazd. The Jewish community of Yazd is one of the oldest in Persia. Although it had never been large, it was divided into two neighborhoods, referred to as ma:le (NPers. maḥalla). These neighborhoods, separated by a road, are socio-economically, as well as linguistically, distinct (for another Jewish community, see HAMADĀN ix). Judeo-Yazdi is spoken only in the poorer, northern neighborhood (un ma:le “that neighborhood”). Jews in the southern neighborhood (in ma:le “this neighborhood”) speak only New Persian “with a Yazdi accent.” According to Amnon Netzer (p. 20), this linguistic situation was created because the Jews of the southern neighborhood came from Hamadān. Jews in Kermān and Rafsanjān speak dialects almost identical, to the one spoken in Yazd. Kermāni Jews came from Yazd in the 19th century. Rafsanjāni remains completely undocumented, but all informants, as well as Raphael (p. 105), assert its similarity to Judeo- Yazdi. Gabri, the Zoroastrian dialect of the same area, shows some similarities to Judeo-Yazdi, but also differences to the point of mutual incomprehensibility. Other Median Jewish dialects, such as Judeo- Isfahani, have also evolved differently.

Judeo-Yazdi belongs to the group of the Central Dialects, which are in turn part of the larger Median group, that is, the group of Northern, or rather non-Southern, Western Iranian dialects. Pierre Lecoq (p. 313) refines the definition, classifying Judeo- Kermāni and Zoroastrian Yazdi (Gabri) under the southeastern sub-group of the Central Dialects. This sub-division is geographical rather than linguistic. Today, most Judeo-Yazdi speakers have already left Yazd for Tehran, Israel, or the United States. The dialect, as spoken today, is already contaminated with Persian and Hebrew, or English, and faces extinction.

Gabri, the Zoroastrian dialect of Yazd, has received much more attention than Judeo-Yazdi. The earliest studies of Gabri are from the 19th century. The description of Gabri in Grundriss der Iranischen Philologie is based on papers dating from as early as 1873. Gabri was studied also by D. L. R. Lorimer (1916), Harold W. Bailey (1936), Vladimir Ivanow (1940), and a number of others.

The earliest work to mention Judeo-Yazdi is a study of several Median Jewish dialects published by Ehsan Yarshater in 1974. His work is of special importance, as it contains the first documentation of a text in Judeo-Yazdi and in Judeo-Kermāni and allows an objective comparison of the phonology of the dialects. The first description of Judeo-Kermāni was published by Gilbert Lazard in 1981. Amnon Netzer refers to Judeo-Yazdi in his 1987 article about Jewish dialects of Persia, which deals mostly with Judeo-Isfahani.

More recent research has been done in Persia by Homā-doḵt Homāyun (1998), regarding the verb system in Judeo-Yazdi. In her bibliography, she mentions an unpublished paper about the Jewish dialect of Yazd done in the Research Center for Human Sciences and Cultural Sciences in Tehran.

The description and examples for the present article are taken from Judeo-Yazdi material gathered in Israel in the 1970s by Abraham Ben Meir and in 1998 by Thamar E. Gindin (see Gindin, 1999, 2003a, 2003b, and forthcoming).

Phonology. Phonological points worthy of note are the typical Median b < *IE d(h)w, for example bar “door,” bi “other,” and ḵa- < ḵŋa-, e.g., ḵab “good” (NPers. ḵub), ḵā, “eat” (past stem, NPers. ḵord). Some phonological differences from Judeo-Kermāni include the vowels ö < ō (MPers. and Hebrew), for example göš “meat” and “ear,” and ü < ūy, for example mü “hair” (for a more detailed list of shifts and differences from Judeo-Kermāni, see Gindin, 1999 and eadem, forthcoming).

As a rule, the stress is on the penultimate syllable. This rule is evident especially in loanwords, e.g., móre (Heb. “teacher”), tálmid (Heb. “pupil”). Stress may have a morphological or emphatic role. In these cases, it may appear on a different syllable. Emphasized words may have the stress on more than one syllable, for example, ḵód-éš, ā ´dam-éš, mo né-zün-in “himself, his man, I don’t know.” Morphology. Most nouns lack gender distinction. Interrogative pronouns distinguish a living entity (ki “who” vs. či, čiji “what”). Humanity is distinguished syntactically, as only human plurals show number agreement in the verb. Case is optionally distinguished only in the personal pronoun. Three degrees of determination—indefinite, definite and unmarked—are expressed differently for singular and plural (based on Gindin 2003(b), p. 53; eadem, forthcoming; TABLE 1).

The plural morpheme is always stressed. Eżāfa use is optional. It usually takes the same form as in New Persian, that is a final –(y)e. In words ending with a vowel, it may change or change the word (e.g., zü´no “wife” becomes züní-ö kā´kā or züni-ö´-ye kā´kā “the brother’s wife”).

Judeo-Yazdi possesses only one set of freestanding personal pronouns, namely mo, to, em/éno, mā, šomā´, enā´/onā´. The corresponding affixed pronouns are: (e)m, (e)t/ta, (e)š/ša, mun, tun/tum, šun/šum. They serve for oblique case only, denoting possession, direct or indirect objects of a verb, complementing prepositions, and with slight changes serving to denote the agent in transitive past verbs and modal present.

In oblique case affixes, the phonological environment determines the final nasal in plurals and the presence of e- in the singular. The forms in –a are very rare, and appear in prefixes separated from the main verb by another word, for example, ta kóštan t-in “I will have you killed (lit. I will give you to killing).” The verb has two stems: present, serving for present, future, imperative, and subjunctive, and past, serving for imperfect, perfect, and pluperfect (the last two are semantically indistinct). Secondary past stems are formed by adding the suffix –ā(r)- (< ād-) to the present stem. This derivation is typical of Median dialects, while Southern dialects have –īd- as a weak past-stem suffix. The present stem may be as short as a single consonant, for example, á-t-in “I give.” In one case it completely disappears: á-t-in “I come”: a- is the durative prefix, -t- is a glide consonant, and -in is the person suffix.

Verbs in the past and some present modal verbs are syntactically nominative, but morphologically ergative (Gindin, 2003a). Intransitive verbs show the agent by the same suffix as the present, and transitive verbs express the agent through prefixes similar or identical to the pronominal oblique case affix. Verbs use the suffixes -in, -eš, -o, am, et, un in the present tense. The present copula and intransitive (non-modal) past suffixes are identical to these suffixes except 3rd. singular copula en, and zero past suffix. In the intransitive past, the final consonant appears only before a suffix, thus rā´sā “he/she arrived,” but rā´sār-in “I arrived.” Modal present and transitive and modal past express the agent through the oblique case person affix as a prefix, with the exception of 1st plural un/um. The 3rd singular suffix in the present is for some verbs -i, -e or –ö (e.g. dír-i “he/she has”). Gilbert Lazard (p. 335) regards these as “vocal present stems” with a zero suffix.

Aspect and modal affixes, as well as negation, come right before the stem; that is, in transitive past verbs, they come between the prefix and the stem. These affixes include: perfect – stressed e before the past stem: é-šu “he/she had gone,” t-é-di “you have seen”; present and imperfect (habitual past) – accented a: á-ker-in “I am doing,” šum-á-bā “they used to say.” Subjunctive and imperative ve-/vo-/o- are followed by the present stem. Second singular has a zero suffix in the imperative. An exception is the verb “to give,” which has an a- prefix and a different present stem in the subjunctive and imperative: á-do “give (thou)!”

Stress on the root syllable distinguishes future or general present statements (knowledge, feeling, habits) from the present: a-zü´n-o “he/she knows,” a-kóš-in “I will kill.”

The perfect may optionally be constructed with the present or past copula, with no semantic difference. In intransitive verbs, the copula agrees in person with the subject, for example, ímo ber-in “I had come.” In transitive verbs, it takes the form of 3rd singular, for example, m-é-di n-én “I have never seen.”

The passive voice hardly exists. When it does appear, it uses the New Persian passive participle, phonetically modified for Judeo- Yazdi. The auxiliary is usually “to come” (úmo, á-t-e), or “to be” (bu, en).

Compound verbs are especially current with Hebrew infinitives, for example, litḵā´ten šun-kā´ “they got married.” In transitive past compound verbs, when the person prefix is separated from the verb stem, the singular assumes the form in –a (ma, ta, ša). The aspect affix remains “glued” to the verb stem, for example, ša göš e-kā, “he had listened/obeyed” (nominal element göš “ear”).

The present copula is identical to the person suffix (in, eš, etc.), except 3rd singular en. The verb “to have” lacks an a prefix in the present, thus dír-in “I have.” Some additional words of interest are: -borz- present stem “to go up,” rej “day,” jen “woman,” -zun- present stem “to know,” esbo “dog,” ḵórā “God,” kéro “house,” por “son” (Judeo-Kermāni: pur), kákā “brother,” iv “water,” bóraḵs- present stem “to escape” (taken by young Israelis to be a Hebrew loanword, but actually = NPers. goriḵtan), gaf + köv- “to talk” (-köv- present stem “to hit,” gaf hypercorrected by one informant to ḥarf, although it originates from OPers. gaub- > NPers. goftan).

Informants 1998: Miriam Ben Meir, born in Yazd around 1920, immigrated to Israel in 1952, lives in Jerusalem, a housewife. Rachel Dayan (Miriam Ben Meir’s daughter), born in Yazd, 1950, immigrated to Israel in 1952, lives in Jerusalem, employee of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs. Miriam Eldadi (Ora Emdadi’s mother, Eliyahu’s aunt), born in Yazd, 1925, immigrated to Israel in 1963, lived in Beit Shemesh, and now lives in Jerusalem, a housewife. Eliyahu Emdadi, born in Yazd, 1941(according to identity card), immigrated to Israel in 1963, lived in Beit Shemesh, and now lives in Jerusalem; senior manager in the Ministry of Health. Ora Emdadi (Eliyahu’s wife, Miriam Eldadi’s daughter), born in Yazd, 1942, immigrated to Israel in 1963, lived in Beit Shemesh, and now lives in Jerusalem, a housewife. Ruh- Angiz Shamai (Kalanit Hamedani-Cohan), born in Yazd, 1945, moved to Tehran 1964, immigrated to Israel in 1987, lives in Bat-Yam. Dorit Yitzhaqi, born in Tehran (to a Yazdi family), 1976, immigrated to Israel in 1987, lives in Kefar Sava, a student. Yitzhaqi and Dayan only helped me with the interpretations.

Bibliography (a selective list):

Harold W. Bailey, “Yazdi,” BSO(A)S 8, 1936, pp. 335-61. A. Coletti, Il Giudeo-Kermani : Note Comparatistiche, Rome, 1982.

Wilhelm Geiger, “Central Dialekte,” in W. Geiger and E. Kuhn, eds., Grundriss der iranischen Philologie, Berlin and New York, 1974, II, pp. 381-406.

Thamar E. Gindin, A Partial Grammar of the Jewish Dialect of Yazd, unpubl. M.A. thesis, Jerusalem, 1999.

Eadem, “Ergative Constructions in the Jewish Dialect of Yazd?” in Shaul Shaked and Amnon Netzer, eds., Irano-Judaica V: Studies Relating to Jewish Contacts with Persian Culture throughout the Ages, Jerusalem, 2003a, pp. 105-19.

Eadem, “A Unique Plural Form in Judeo-Yazdi,” in Bernard Hourcade, ed., Iran: Questions et Connaissances 3, Stud. Ir., Cahier 27, 2003b, pp. 45-56.

Eadem, “Judeo-Yazdi,” in Amnon Netzer, ed., Padyavand 4 (forthcoming).

Homā-doḵt Homāyun, “Vižagihā-ye sāḵtāri-e ejrā-ye sāzanda-ye feʿl dar guyeš-e kalimiān-e Yazd,” in Yād-e Bahār:Yād-nāme-ye Doktor Mehrdād Bahaār, Tehran, 1998, pp. 689-706.

Vladimir Ivanow, The Gabri Dialect Spoken by the Zoroastrians of Persia, Rome, 1940. Gilbert Lazard, “Le Dialect des Juifs de Kerman,” in Monumentum Georg Morgenstierne, Acta Iranica 21, 1981, pp. 333-46.

Pierre Lecoq, “Les Dialects du Centre de l’Iran,” in Rüdiger Schmidt, ed., Compendium Linguarum Iranicarum, Wiesbaden, 1989, pp. 313- 26.

D. L. R. Lorimer, “Notes on the Gabri Dialect of Modern Persian: A Commentary on the Account of the Dialect Given in the ‘Grundriss der iranischen Philologie’,” JRAS, 1916, pp. 423-89.

Amnon Netzer, “Studies in the Spoken Language of the Jews of Iran,” in Joseph Dan, ed., Culture and History, Jerusalem, 1987, pp. 19-44 (in Hebrew).

Raphael, “From the Glorious Past (part 2),” in Yosef Sharga, ed., From Yazd to the Holy Land, Jerusalem, 1987, pp. 97-124 (in Hebrew).

Ehsan Yarshater, “The Jewish Communities in Persia and Their Dialects,” in Philippe Gignoux and Ahmad Tafazzoli, eds., Memorial Jean de Menasce, Louvain, 1974, pp. 453-66.

July 20, 2009

(Thamar E. Gindin) Originally Published: July 20, 2009

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YAZDEGERD I

Sasanian King of kings (r. 399-420) called “the Sinner.” Sasanian- based sources judge Yazdegerd as a tyrant.

YAZDEGERD I, Sasanian king of kings (r. 399-420) called “the Sinner.”

The name “Yazdegerd” was borne by three Sasanian kings of kings and a number of notables of the Sasanian and later periods. It is a compound of Yazad Yazata- ‘divine being’ and -karta ‘made’, and signifies ‘God-made’, similar to Iranian Bagkart and Greek Theokistos. The attested forms include: Pahlavi Yazdekert, Syriac Yazdegerd, Izdegerd, and Yazdeger, Greek Isdigerdes (with variants), Persian Yazd(e)gerd and Yazdk(/g)ard, Talmudic Izdeger and Azger, Arabic Yazdeijerd (in a verse in (i>Aḡāni, Azdkerd), Armenian Yazkert, see Nöldeke, Geschichte der Perser, p. 72 n.3; Hübschmann 1876; idem 1895, p. 55; Justi, Namenbuch, pp. 184-89, 498; Gignoux, 1986, pp. 189-90.

Yazdegerd I is referred to in the Acts of the Council of Seleucia as “son of Shapur” (cited by Nöldeke, p. 73 n. 3). It is not clear whether Shapur II was meant, as some have reported (see Ṭabari I, p. 847), or Shapur III (Agathias 4.26, Łazar, tr. p. 52, Šahristānhā ī Īrān 47, 53; tr. Markwart, Capitals, pp. 19, 21; Yaʿqubi I, p. 183, Masʿudi, Moruj II, p. 190, Biruni, Āṯār, pp. 33, 45, Šāh-nāma, Moscow, VII, pp. 262-63). A few sources (Nöldeke, p. 73 n. 1) erroneously called him a son of Bahram IV. His coins show him wearing a crown combining the dome-shaped headgear of Ardašir II (q.v) with a pair of merlons and a crescent of the moon on the forehead, a feature which is much imitated in the coinage of the eastern rulers from then on (Erdmann, pp. 102-103; Göbl, p. 48, Pl. 9, nos. 145-52). A silver-gilt plate in the Metropolitan Museum of Art depicting a king spearing a stag is attributed to Yazdegerd (Harper 1981, pp. 63-64, Pl. 16).

Sasanian-based sources judge Yazdegerd as a tyrant who committed many sins (the fullest account is in Ṭabari, I, pp. 847-50; see also Balʿami, ed. Bahār, pp. 920-1; Yaʿqubi, I, p. 183). He misused “his sharp intelligence, his fine education and his multifaceted knowledge,” showed extreme suspicion and selfishness, treated others with contempt, and harshly punished the slightest failure but expected much gratitude for the pettiest favor he bestowed. He warned that he would not tolerate any opposition to his word or will, never listened to any advice “except when it came from foreign envoys,” and prevented those in his surroundings from forming close friendships with each other. When he consolidated his power, he so greatly belittled the nobility oppressed the weak and shed so much blood that his subjects prayed to God to end his tyranny. He earned the epithet “the Sinner” (Arabic al-aṯim [Ṭabari, I, p. 847], Persian bazahgar [Šāh-nāma VII, p. 264],) or “the Outcast, Outlawed” (dfr/dabhr [Ḥamza, p, 54; Ḵᵛārazmi, p. 103; Biruni, Āṯār, pp. 123ff.; Šahristānhā ī Īrān 26, tr. Markwart, Capitals, p. 67], from Middle Persian dīpahr ‘prison’ (Minovi, 1954, p. 77, citing H. W. Bailey).

This judgment reflects the feelings of the priests and the nobility (Nöldeke, p. 74 n. 3). They hated Yazdegerd for his peaceful policy, religious tolerance and his attempt to curb their power. Always eager to erode royal authority, the nobility had either deposed or killed his three predecessors when they demanded obedience and loyalty. Yazdegerd was determined to rule with sovereign authority. Even the native tradition cannot hide the report that he started his reign with mildness and justice but was driven to harshness by the ingratitude he experienced (Ṭabari I, p. 865; Šāh-nāma VII, p. 264). Procopius reports: “From the start, Yazdegerd was a sovereign whose nobility of character had won for him the greatest renown” (1.2, 8). He gave his Christian subjects such freedom, even support that they prayed daily for the safety of “the victorious and glorious king” (Asmussen, 1983, p. 940). According to a Christian account (Nöldeke, p. 75 n.; Greatrex-Lieu, p. 32), “The good and clement King Yazdegerd” every day “did well to the poor and wretched.” To his Jewish subjects he was so kind and respectful (Widengren, 1961, pp. 140-42; cf. Neusner, pp. 8-13), that their exiliarch hailed him a new Cyrus (b. Zev 19a). Some even said that his wife was “Shushandokht, daughter of the Resh-Galutak,” and mother of Bahram and Narse, and that Yazdegerd settled the Jews in Gay [= Isfahan] at her request (Šahristānhā ī Īrān 10, 47, 53; tr. Markwart, Capitals, pp. 19, 21, 43, cf. 96-8).

During Yazdegerd’s reign, the Romans faced perilous dangers: the Ostrogoths were plundering the Balkans, the Franks were in rebellion, a civil war was raging, and eastern provinces were in revolt: Blockley1998, pp. 118-25) Far from taking advantage of this situation, Yazdegerd returned Roman Christian captives whom the Persians had rescued after routing an invading Hunnic army (Greatrex-Lieu, pp. 31-2). His good will was so well known that Emperor Arcadius, seeing that enemies were at the gate and his only son, Theodosius, was merely an infant, appointed Yazdegerd in his will as the child’s guardian, “enjoining upon him earnestly to preserve the empire for Theodosius by all his power and foresight.” The Persian king wrote to the senate, accepting the charge and threatening war against any who should attempt to enter into conspiracy against the child, and “loyally observing the behests of Arcadius, he adopted and continued without interruption a policy of profound peace with the Romans, and thus preserved the empire for Theodosius” (Procopius 1.2, 1-10; also Agathias 4.25; Cameron, p. 149). He sent as his ward’s tutor “Antiochus, a most remarkable and highly educated advisor and instructor” (Theophanes in Greatrex-Lieu, p. 33; on the long and illustrious career of Antiochus at Constantinople, see Bradill and Greatrex, pp. 171-80; his story became the basis for a popular romance mentioned in eastern sources, which call him Šavin of Daštpay (Ḥamza, pp. 18-20; Mojmal, ed. Bahār, pp. 86, 95; Minovi, pp.75-76). Bishop Marutha, the Eastern Roman Emperor’s special representative at Ctesiphon (Asmussen, 1983, p. 940 with references), gained Yazdegerd’s confidence, and on his advice the king issued a decree which has been termed “the Edict of Milan for the Assyrian Church” (Wigram, p. 89). It permitted Christians to worship openly, and to rebuild ruined churches, and allowed bishops to travel freely in their dioceses. Marutha further convinced the king to convene a religious council in Seleucia in 410 to organize church affairs (Nöldeke, p. 75 n.; Labourt, pp. 78-99; Christensen, Iran Sasan, pp. 270-71; Macomber, pp. 179-200; Asmussen, loc. cit).

This patronage of Christianity naturally antagonized the Magians (Socrates 7.8). Yazdegerd sent the Catholicos of Seleucia-Ctesiphon to mediate between the king and his brother who governed Pars (Nöldeke, loc. cit.). Another Catholicos was Yazdegerd’s envoy to Theodosius (Labourt, pp. 100-101). However, in his very last year Yazdegerd changed his attitude towards the Christians and ordered a persecution because they, through boldness and missionary zeal, committed offensive acts, such as the destruction of fire temples, theft of property deeds, slandering of the Mazdaean faith and disobedience of royal orders (Labourt, op. cit., pp. 105ff.; Hoffmann, pp. 34-36-8; Christensen, L’Iran, pp. 272-73, 280; van Rompay sees the conversion of high-ranking Persians unwilling to apostasize as the reason). The appointment of Mehr Narse as the grand minister (Ṭabari, I, pp. 848-49) probably dates from this period (not from the accession of Yazdegerd, as the source claims, see Nöldeke, p. 76 n. 1), and must be related to the king’s reversal of policy. An extraordinary calendrical reform of effecting (in about 401) a two- month intercalation “for no other motive than that of precaution” (Biruni, Chronology, pp. 52-56) is attributed to Yazdegerd, but it seems unfounded.

According to Moses Khorenats’i (3. 56 = tr. p. 326), Yazdegerd died of illness, but the widely reported native tradition claims that while staying in Hyrcania, he was killed by a fabulous horse which had emerged from a spring into which it then disappeared, whereupon people said: “the horse was an angel sent by God” to end the king’s tyranny. As Nöldeke pointed out (p. 77 n. 1 cont. at p. 78), this is a myth (for its symbolism, see Shahbazi, 2003) created by the nobility, who probably murdered the hated king in remote Hyrcania. “The troubles and quarrels over the throne which immediately followed Yazdegerd’s death confirm the above conclusions.” For the magnates decided to deprive Yazdegerd’s sons from the throne. There were of them: Shapur, Bahrām and Narse. Shapur, king of Armenia since 416, hurried to Ctesiphon to claim kingship but was treacherously killed by courtiers (Lazar, tr. p. 53; Moses Khonenatsʿi 3. 56 = tr. p. 326); Bahrām, who was raised by the king of Haira, brought an Arab army to the gate of Cetisephon and forced the nobility to accept his rule, and he appointed Narse governor of Khorasan (Ṭabari I, pp. 865, 866).

Bibliography: Agathias, The Histories, tr. J. D. Frendo, Berlin-New York, 1975.

J. P. Asmussen, “Christians in Iran,” Camb. Hist. Iran III, pp. 924-48.

R. C. Blockley, “The Dynasty of Theodosius,” in CAH2 XIII, 1998, pp. 11-37.

A. Cameron, “Agathias on the Sassanians,” Dumbarton Oaks Papers 23, 1969, pp. 69-183.

Kurt Erdmann, “Die Entwicklung der sāsānidischen Krone,” Ars Islamica 15-16, 1951, pp. 87-123.

Ph. Gignoux, Noms propres sassanidesen Moyen-Perse epigraphique (Personennamenbuch II/2), Vienna, 1986.

R. Gobl, Sasanian Numismatics, Braunschweig, 1968.

Geoffrey Greatrex and Jonathan Bradill, “Antiochus the Preapositus: Geoffrey Greatrex and S. N. S. Lieu, eds, The Roman eastern frontiers and the Persian wars. Part II A. D. 363-630. A narrative sourcebook, London and New York, 2002.

O. P. Harper (and P. Meyers), Silver Vessels of the Sasanian Period. I. Royal Imagery, New York, 1981. H. Hübschmann, “Iranisch-armenische Namen auf karta, kirt, gird,” ZDMG 30, 1876, pp. 138-41.

Idem, Altarmenische Gramatik. I. Etymologie, Leipzig, 1895.

Moḥammad b. Aḥmad al-Ḵᵛārazmi, Mafātiḥ al-ʿolum, ed. G. van Vloten, Leiden, 1895.

Łṟazar, The History of Łazar Pʿarpecʿi, tr. R. W. Thomson. Atlanta, Georgia, 1991.

J. Labouhrt, Le Christianisme dans l’Empire Perse sous la dynastie Sassanide (224-632), Paris, 1904.

W. F. Macomber, “The Authority of the Catholicos Patriarch of Seleucia-Ctesiphon,” Orientalia Christiana Analecta 181, 1968, pp. 179-200.

M. Minovi, “Yaki az fārsiāt-e Abu Nawās,” MDADT I/3, 1954, pp. 62- 77.

J. Neusner, A History of Jews in Babylonia :V. Later Sasanian Times, Leiden, 1970. L. van Rompay, “Impeteous Martyrs? The situation of the Persian Christians in the last years of Yazdegerd I (419-20),” in M. Lamboigts and P. van Duen eds, Martyrium in multidisciplinary Perspective. Memorial Louise Rechmans, Louvain, 1995, pp. 363-75.

A. Shapur Shahbazi, “The Horse that killed Yazdegerd,” in K. Eslami and D. Daryaee eds., Festschrift Hans Peter Schmidt, 2003.

G. Widengren, “The Status of the Jews in the Sassanian Empire,” Iranica Antiqua I, 1961, pp. 140-42.

W. A. Wigram, An Introduction to the Assyrian Church or the Church of the Sasanid Persian Empire 100-640 A.d., London, 1910.

(A. Shapur Shahbazi)

Originally Published: July 20, 2003

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YAZDEGERD II

YAZDEGERD II (r. 439-57 CE), Sasanian king, whose reign is marked by wars with Byzantium in the west and the Hephthalites in the east. He stayed in the east for some years fighting the nomadic tribes and is known for imposing Zoroastrianism in Armenia.

Yazdgerd II was the son and successor to his father Bahrām V (r. 421-39 CE), known as Bahrām Gōr. He is remembered fondly in the Sasanian- based sources as a king who was interested in the wellbeing of the country, justice, and for not being harsh-tempered like his grandfather and not following his father’s practice of hunting, feasting, and holding long audience sessions. He tended to the masses and organized the army (Ṯaʿālebi, tr. Fażāʾli, p. 367; Ṭabari, I/2, p. 871, tr. p. 106). According to Ebn al-Balḵi and Ḥamza Eṣfahāni, he was know as Gentle Yazdegerd (Ḥamza Eṣfahāni, p. 55: “Yazdejerd al-Layyen”; Ebn al-Balḵi, p. 42: Yazdegerd-e Narm). He was aided in his affairs by his capable wuzurg framādār (grand vizier), Mehr-Narseh, who had served his father and grandfather as well. After Yazdegerd II’s death, his two sons, Hormozd and Pērōz vied for the throne, the former taking it first, but consequently being dislodged by Pērōz with the help of the Hephthalites (Ṭabari, I/2, pp. 871-72, tr. p. 107).

Religious policy. Yazdgerd II’s devotion to Zoroastrianism is clearly mentioned in sources. Islamic texts claim that he did not partake in the indulgences of his father and conducted a more stoic life style (Ṭabari, I/2, p. 871, tr. p. 106). His persecution of Christians and Jews along with his promotion of Zoroastrianism suggests his devotion to the latter faith. The positive image of Yazdgerd II in Sasanian based sources is in contrast to the Christian and Jewish evidence, which remember his rule as a period of hardship in the empire and Armenia. In 445-46, repressive measures were enacted against the Christians in the Sasanian empire, including their expulsion from the army. At the same time, Yazdgerd II sent Mehr- Narseh to Armenia to impose Zoroastrianism on the members of the Armenian noble houses (naxarar). Mehr-Narseh sent an edict to the Armenians requiring that they accept the Mazdean religion. The basic tenets of the faith described in his edict reflect the Zurvanite heresy, which was popular at the time and was espoused by Mehr- Narseh (Ełishe, pp. 77-78; Russell, p. 136; Zaehner, pp. 41-42; Daryaee, pp. 23-24). This resulted in an uprising by a group of Armenian nobility, led by Vardan Mamikonian, culminating in the killing of Persian officials and the Zoroastrian priests. The Sasanians dispatched Muškan Niusałavurt to Armenia, who defeated the Mamikonian’s forces on 2 June 451 at the battle of Avrayar at the foot of Mount Ararat (Łazar, pp. 34-36; Ełiše 6.1-9; Langlois, pp. 220-21, 296-97). The confrontation resulted in the annihilation of the Armenian forces, death and capture of Christian priests, and the exile of the remainder to Khorasan in 454 CE (Sebeos, pp. 64-65), as well as the strengthening of the position of the pro-Iranian and Zoroastrian Armenians.

In 455 CE, a Jewish persecution was initiated in the form of forbidding the Jews to celebrate the Sabbath openly and publicly, and by 467 CE Jewish schools were closed and some of the leaders were executed. The Jewish population reacted harshly to these measures and retaliated by flaying two Zoroastrian priests alive in Isfahan, resulting in further persecution and revolts. These activities by the Jews are suggested to be the result of Jewish messianic expectations, which coincided with the fifth century CE (Neusner, pp. 915-16). The persecution of the Christians and Jews may also be explained as Yazdgerd II’s active policy to bring the non-Zoroastrian Iranian nobility in line with the state religion of Zoroastrianism. These actions were thus taken to create a uniform religious identity among the king’s subjects, an agenda of the Sasanian kings from the time of Šāpur II in the fourth century CE. Thus, the effort was part of the centralization program of Yazdgerd II, attempting to subdue the Christian and Jewish population of the empire (McDonough, pp. 70- 76). It is also noteworthy that the earliest Christian Sogdian texts may date from the time of Yazdgerd II, when the Christians moved eastwards to Central Asia (Dresden, p. 1125)

War with Rome and the Hephthalites. Upon ascending the throne, Yazdgerd II waged a war with the Roman empire, starting in 440 CE and with little success for either side (Greatrex, p. 2). The Romans, hard pressed on their southern front by the Vandal invasion and conquest of Carthage, sued for a quick end to war in return for payments to the Sasanians in order to defend the Caucusus. Concluded by Yazdgerd II and the Emperor Theodosius I, it was agreed that no new frontier fortresses were to be built in Mesopotamia (Rubin, p. 681; Dignas and Winter, p. 137). Yazdgerd II then moved toward Armenia and defeated the Armenians, taking the surviving Armenian nobility, priests, and their forces to the east to fight the Hephthalites. As late as 453 CE and towards the end of his rule, Yazdgerd II, having established his headquarters in Nishapur in the northeast, appears to have spent a number of years prosecuting wars in the east against the Hephthalites (Frye, 1983, p. 146; idem, 1984, p. 321). We are mainly informed through the Armenian sources about these campaigns (Ełisē, 1982, p. 192; Łazar Pʿarpecʿi, p. 58), and these mostly deal with the Armenians who accompanied him. According to one Middle Persian text, the Šahrestānīhā ī Ērānšahr (passage 18), Yazdegerd fortified the city of Qumes (i.e., Dāmḡān) and turned it into a strong border post against the Čōl (New Per./Ar. Sōl; Tajāreb al-omam, p. 275) tribe of Hun in what the text calls “at the boundary of the Gruznian Guard.”

Coinage and imperial ideology. Starting with Yazdgerd II, a new legend appeared on the Sasanian coinage: mzdysn bgy kdy “The Mazda-worshipping majesty, the Kayanid” (Göbl, p. 330). This reflects the king’s strong affinity with the Avestan mythical dynasty, the Kayanids, exactly at the time when Yazdegerd II stayed for a prolonged time period in Khorasan fighting the Hephthalites. There is also a new reverse style introduced by Yazdegerd II, where the attendants face the fire-alter in a posture of reverence (Gyselen, p. 60). This may further indicate the religious devotion of the king and bear witness to his actions on and off the battlefield against non- Zoroastrians. This also accords with his image as a Sasanian king who is Zoroastrian and in harmony with the rulers of old in the Avesta, that is, the Kayanids. The mints of Āsōrestān (AS) and Khuzestan (WH) were most active in the west, and the mint of Gorgān (GW) and Marv (ML) was most active in the east of the empire, no doubt providing for the wars on the two fronts (Schindel, III, pp. 386-87).

Bibliography:

Abu ʿAli Moḥammad Balʿami (attributed to), Tārik-nāma-ye Ṭabari: Gardānida-ye mansub ba Balʿami, ed. Moḥammad Rowšan, 2 vols., Tehran, 1995.

Arthur Christensen, L’Iran sous les Sassanides, 2nd ed., Copenhagen, 1944, pp. 281-90; tr. Rašid Yāsami, as Irān dar zamān- e Sāsāniān, Tehran, 1972, pp. 306-12.

Touraj Daryaee, Sasanian Persia: The Rise and Fall of an Empire, London, 1009. Beate Dignas and Engelbert Winter, Rome and Persia in Late Antiquity: Neighbours and Rivals, Cambridge, 2007.

Mark Dresden, “Sogdian Language and Literature,” in The Cambridge History of Iran III/2, ed. Ehsan Yarshater, Cambridge, 1983, pp. 1216- 29.

Ebn al-Balki, Fārs-nāma, eds. Guy Le Strange and Reynold A. Nicholson, Cambridge, 1921; repr., Tehran, 1957.

Ełišē (Elisaeus), Vasn Vardanay ew Hayocʿ Paterazmin, tr. Robert W. Thomson, as History of Vardan and the Armenian War, London, 1982.

Richard N. Frye, “Iran under the Sasanians,” in The Cambridge History of Iran III/1, ed. Ehsan Yarshater, Cambridge, 1983, pp. 116- 80.

Idem, The History of Ancient Iran, München, 1984.

Robert Göbl, “Sasanian Coins,” in The Cambridge History of Iran III/1, ed. Ehsan Yarshater, Cambridge, 1983, pp. 322-39.

Rika Gyselen, “New Evidence for Sasanian Numismatics: The Collection of Ahmad Saeedi, in idem, ed., Contributions à l’histoire et à géographie historique de l’empire sassanide, Res Orientales” 16, 2004, pp. 49-140.

G. Greatrex, “The Two Fifth-Century Wars Between Rome and Persia,” Florilegium 12, 1993, pp. 1-14.

Ḥamza Eṣfahāni, Taʾriḵ seni moluk al-arż wa’l-anbiāʾ, ed. I. M. E. Gottwaldt, St. Petersburg, 1844; tr. Jaʿfar Šeʿār, as Tāriḵ-e payambarān wa šāhān, Tehran, 1967.

Victor Langlois, tr., Collections de historiens anciens et modernes de l’Arménie, 2 vols., Paris, 1868-69.

Łazar Pʿarpecʿi, The History of Łazar Pʿarpecʿi, tr. Robert W. Thomson, Atlanta, 1991.

Joseph Marquart, Ērānšahr nach der Geographie des Ps. Moses Xorenacʿi, Berlin, 1901, pp. 55-57, 96-98.

S. J. McDonough, “A Question of Faith? Persecution and Political Centralization in the Sasanian Empire of Yazdgerd II (438-457 CE),” in Harold A. Drake, ed.,Violence in Late Antiquity: Perceptions and Practices, Aldershot, UK, 2006, pp. 69-85.

Jacob Neusner, “Jews in Iran,” in The Cambridge History of Iran III/2, ed. Ehsan Yarshater, Cambridge, 1983, pp. 909-23. Theodore Nöldeke, Geschicte der Perser und Araber zur Zeit der Sasaniden, aus der Arabischen Chronik des Tabari übersesetzt, Leiden, 1973, pp. 112-17, 423-26.

Z. Rubin, “Diplomacy and War in the Relations between Byzantium and the Sassanids in the Fith Century AD,” in P. Freemann and H. Kennedy, eds., The Defense of the Roman and Byzantine East, Oxford, 1986, pp. 677-95.

James R. Russell, Zoroastrianism in Armenia, Cambridge, Mass., 1987.

Šahrestānīhā ī Ērānšahr: A Middle Persian Text on Late Antique Geography, Epic, and History, ed. and tr. Touraj Daryaee, Costa Mesa, Calif., 2002.

N. Schindel, Sylloge Nummorum Sasanidarum, Paris-Berlin-Wien III/2, Vienna, 2004.

Sebeos, The Armenian History Attributed to Sebeos I, tr. with notes Robert W. Thomson, historical commentary by James Howard- Johnston, Assistance from Tim Greenwood, Liverpool, 1999.

ʿAbd-al-Malek b. Moḥammad Ṯaʿālebi, Ḡorar aḵbār moluk al-fors wa siarehem/ Histoire des rois des Perses, ed. and tr. Hermann Zotenberg, Paris, 1900; tr. M. Fażāʾli, Tehran, 1368. Moḥammad b. Jarir Ṭabari, Ketāb taʾriḵ al-rosol wa’l-moluk, ed. M. J. de Goeje et al., 15 vols., Leiden, 1964, I/II, pp. 871-72; tr. by various scholars as The History of al-Ṭabarī, 40 vols., Albany, N.Y., 1985- 2007, V: The Sāsānids, the Byzantines, the Lakmids, and Yemen, tr. C. E. Bosworth, Albany, N.Y., 1999, pp. 106-9.

Tajāreb al-omam fi aḵbār moluk al-ʿArab wa’l-ʿAjam, ed. Reżā Anzābi-nežād and Yaḥyā Kalāntari, Mashad, 1994.

R. C. Zaehner, Zurvan: A Zoroastrian Dilemma, Oxford, 1955.

(Touraj Daryaee)

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YAZICI, Tahsin

YAZICI, Tahsin (b. Hoğas, 1338/1922; d. Istanbul, 20 November 2002), Turkish scholar of Persian language, literature, and culture (FIGURE 1). He was born in Hoğas, a village near the town of Kiğı in the province of Bingöl, into the Yazıcızādeler,a family of Turkish origin, which had been sent there as the chief state officials (motaṣarref) during the Ottoman period.

Yazıcı learnt the Arabic alphabet from his father Mehmed Yazıcı before starting his formal education. He joined his uncle in Istanbul in 1929 and stayed there for a year, attending the second grade at Nişantaşı 15th Primary School. He returned to Kiğı the following year, where he completed his elementary education in 1934. He finished middle school in Erzincan in 1937 and returned to Istanbul, where he entered the Kabataş Erkek Lisesi High School. He graduated from high school in 1940 and began his college education at the Department of Turkish Language and Literature at Istanbul’s Teachers College (İstanbul yüksek öğretmen okulu). While he was in college, he also studied Arabic and Persian languages and literature at the Faculty of Literature at the University of Istanbul. He graduated in October 1945, and, in the same year, he started teaching literature at Diyarbakır Lisesi. About three months later, in 1946, he began working at the Department of Classic Oriental Languages at the Faculty of Language and History-Geography (Dil ve tarih-coğrafya fakültesi klâsik şark dilleri bölümü) as a research assistant of Prof. Necati Lugal (d. 1964).

During the period that he was working for Lugal, he married his wife, Suzan, who bore him three children: Suna (b. 1949), Mine (b. 1956) and Orhan (b. 1964). In 1948 he started to work as a teaching assistant in the same department. He wrote his dissertation on Ebrāhim Golšani and his Sufi order (“İbrahim-i Gülşenî ve tarikâtı”) and received his doctorate degree in 1949. In 1952 he was appointed assistant professor at the Department of Arabic and Persian Languages and Literature at the Faculty of Literature of the University of Istanbul, where he worked together with Helmut Ritter (d. 1971) and Ahmed Ateş (d. 1966). Three years later he became associate professor when he wrote Abdullâh-ı Ensârî ve eserleri. He served in the army for eighteen months in 1956-57. In 1963 the Department of Arabic and Persian language and literature was split in two, and he became director of Persian language and literature.

He published in 1959-61 a two-volume facsimile edition with commentaries and notes of Manāqeb al-ʿārefin by Šams-al-Din Aḥmad Aflāki (d. 761/1360), which led to his promotion in 1965 as professor of Persian Language at the University of Istanbul. After the death of Ahmed Ateş in 1966, he became the chief editor of İslâm ansiklopedisi, the Turkish version of the Encyclopaedia of Islam. In 1970 he became Dean of the Faculty of Literature at the University of Istanbul and served for two terms. He was elected the director of the Department of Persian philology and Pakistani Culture (Fars filolojisi ve Pakistan kültürü) when it was created in the mid-1970s by the merging of the so-far two separate departments of Pakistani culture and Persian language. In 1981, the university created the Department of Oriental Languages and Literatures, which included the Department for Arabic, Persian, Urdu, Hindology and Sinology and appointed Yazıcı its director. He served in this capacity until 12th May 1983, when he was dismissed as slanderous accusations were leveled against him by General Hüseyin Tapa (Yazıcı, “Autobiography,” p. 3). He was, however, reinstated later when the false nature of the accusations were acknowledged. In the meantime, his former position had been cut back, and therefore, in 1985, he started to work at the Department of Oriental Languages and Literatures at the University of Atatürk in Erzurum. A year later he decided to retire.

Yazıcı continued his scholarly activities long after retirement. He attended and submitted papers at various congresses, including theThird International Congress on the Economic and Social History of Turkey (USA, 1983); the UNESCO Saʿdi Congress (Shiraz, 1984); the Ḥāfeẓ Congress (Shiraz, 1988); the Ferdowsi Congress (Tehran, 1989); the Neẓāmi Ganjavi Congress (Tabriz, 1991); and the Türkische Wirtschafts- und Sozialsgeschichte von 1071 bis 1920 Congress (Germany, 1995). At the same time he kept serving on the editorial board of various encyclopedias. From 1966 to 1987 he was the chief editor of the Turkish version of The Encyclopaedia of Islam (Millî eğitim bakanlığı İslâm ansiklopedisi), and until his death he was director of the section dealing with Persian language, history, and culture for the Türkiye diyanet vakfı İslâm ansiklopedisi (Istanbul, 1988-). He was also responsible for the editing of the Büyük Larousse encyclopaedia and dictionaries, and, at the same time, served until his death as the consulting editor for the Encyclopaedia Iranica on Perso-Turkish history and literature. He was also member of the Turkish Society of History (Türk tarih kurumu), the Society of Turkish Language (Türk dil kurumu) and the Institute for Seljuq Studies (Selçuklu araştırmaları enstitüsü). Yazıcı died on 20th November 2002 in Istanbul.

During fifty-five years of scholarship, Yazıcı wrote, translated, and edited many books and articles. His first major research was his Ph.D. dissertation on Ebrāhim Golšani (1949), which was followed six years later by his next major work ʿAbdullâh-ı Ensârî ve eserleri. The booklet Pārsinevisān-e Āsiā-ye Ṣaḡir, written in Persian, was a pioneer work and a piece of substantial research, providing a list of Saljuq and Ottoman poets and scholars in Anatolia who wrote in Persian, translated from Persian to Turkish, or wrote commentaries on Persian works (for details of these and his major contributions to scholarly publications, see Bibliog.) Yazıcı contributed more than 150 articles to İslâm ansiklopedisi (e.g., “Saʿdi,” “Sâʾeb,” “Şâh İsmâʿîl”), Türkiye diyanet vakfı İslâm ansiklopedisi (e.g., “Avfî,” “Belh,” “Târîh-i Beyhakî,” “Hemedan”), Encyclopaedia of Islam (e.g., “Gulshanī,” “Ḵalandariyya,” “Mawlawiyya”), and Encyclopaedia Iranica (e.g., “Čelebī, ʿĀref,” “Aflāki,” “Fattāḥī Nīšābūrī”). He also wrote more than 500 articles on Iranian and Arabic history and literature for Gelişim büyük Larousse. Most of his contributions to various encyclopedias are on classic Persian literature and scholars, Sufism, and authors and poets in Anatolia who wrote in Persian.

Yazıcı edited several classic Persian texts on mysticism, Sufism, Islamic sects,and Mawlawiyya Order: “Abdullah-ı Ensârî’nin Kanz as- sālikīn veya Zād al-ʿārifīn’i,” Şarkiyat mecmuası 1, 1956, pp. 60-88, 3, 1959, pp. 25-49, 4, 1961, pp. 87-96, 5, 1964, pp. 31-44; and Aḥmad Aflāki’s Manāqeb al-ʿārefin; Moḥyi Golšani’s Manāqeb-e Ebrāhim Golšani;Ḵāṭib-e Fāresi’s Manāqeb-e Jamāl-al-Din Sāvi; and the Rošanāʾi-nāma of Nāṣer-e Ḵosrow.

Yazıcı made many translations from Persian into Turkish with critical introductions and commentaries. More notable among them are translations of Aflāki’s Manāqeb al-ʿārefin, the Persian version of Abu’l-Qāsem Qošayri’s Resāla, and the Aḥwāl-e Mawlānā of Faridun b. Aḥmad Sepahsālār. He is also the co-author of a number of Persian and Arabic grammar books and readers for students. Most of these books contain a grammar part, a small glossary, and a selection of texts.

Bibliography:

Works.

“İbrahim-i Gülşenî ve tarikatı,” Ph.D. diss., Dil ve Tarih-Coğrafya Fakültesi, Ankara, 1949. “Gülşenî (-i Saruhânî), eserleri, Fatih ve II. Bayezid hakkındaki kasideleri,” in Fatih ve İstanbul, 2 vols., Istanbul, 1954, II, pp. 82-137.

ʿAbdullâh-ı Ensârî ve eserleri, İstanbul Üniversitesi Edebiyat Fakültesi, Istanbul, 1955.

“Fetihten sonra İstanbul’daki ilk Halvetî Şeyhleri: Çelebi Muhammed Cemâleddin, Sünbül Sinan ve Merkez Efendi,” İstanbul enstitüsü dergisi 2, 1956, pp. 87-113.

“Abū Saʿīd Abi’l-Hayrin Çihil Makām’ı,” İlâhiyat fakültesi İslâm ilimleri enstitüsü dergisi 1, 1959, pp. 1-32.

“Kalenderlere dâir yeni bir eser: Manākib-i Camāl al-Dīn-i Sāvī,” in Necati Lugal armağanı, Ankara, 1968, pp. 785-87.

“Mevlânâ devrinde semâ,” Şarkiyat mecmuası 5, 1964, pp. 135-50, tr. Esmāʿil Ḥākemi Vālā as “Samāʿ dar dawra-ye Mawlānā,” Majalla-ye Dāneškada-ye adabiyāt wa ʿolum-e ensāni 1, Tehran, 1975, pp. 322- 35. “Taʾṯir-e Šāh-nāma dar dāstānhā-ye marbuṭ ba Ḥażrat ʿAli,” in Mahdi Madāyeni, ed., Šāh-nāma-ye Ferdowsi wa šokuh-e pahlavāni: mājmuʿa-ye soḵanrānihā-ye sevvomin jašn-e Ṭus, Tehran, 1978, pp. 293-97.

“Ahamiyat-e Saʿdi dar emperāṭuri-e ʿOṯmāni wa johuriyat-e Torkiya,” in Ḏekr-e jamil-e Saʿdi III, 1985, pp. 317-28. “XVI. yüzyılda tarikatları eleştiren bir yapıt: ‘Menâkıb-ı Hâce-i Cihân ve Netîce-i Cân’ Müslüman hippileri: Rum Abdalları ve Kalenderler,” Çağdaş Eleştiri 4, 1985, pp. 52-59.

“Mawlānā Jalāl-al-Din Rumi wa worud-e u ba Āsiā-ye Ṣaḡir,” in Malānā az didgāh-e Torkān wa Irāniān, Tehran, 1990, pp. 139-46.

(Taḥsin Yāziji) Pārsinevisān-e Āsiā-ye Ṣaḡir, Tehran, 1992. Makaleler, ed. Mine Yazıcı, Istanbul, 2004 (collecion of articles).

Sources.

Šams-al-Din Aḥmad Aflāki, Manāqeb al-ʿārefin, facs. ed. Tahsin Yazıcı, Ankara, 1959-61; tr. Tahsin Yazıcı as Ãriflerin menkıbeleri, 2 vols., Ankara, 1953-54, 5th ed., Ankara, 1989.

Dāneš-nāma-ye adab-e fārsi. Adab-e fārsi dar Ānātuli va Bālkān, ed. Ḥasan Anuše, VI, Tehran, 2005, pp. 908-09.

Faridun b. Aḥmad Sepahsālār Aḥwāl-e MawlānāJalāl-al-Din Rumi, tr. Tahsin Yazıcı as Mevlânâ ve etrafındakiler, Istanbul, 1977.

Moḥyi Golšani, Manāqeb-e Ebrāhim Golšani, ed. Tahsin Yazıcı, Ankara, 1982.

Ḵāṭib-e Fāresi, Manāqeb-e Jamāl-al-Din Sāvi, ed. Tahsin Yazıcı, Ankara, 1972, 2nd ed., 1999.

Mustafa Koç, “Prof. Dr. Tahsin Yazıcı,” Journal of the History of Sufism 4/1-4, 2003-04, p. 1.

Name-i aşina/Nāmā-ye āšnā, 1995, pp. 37-42.

Nāṣer-e Ḵosrow, Rušanāʾi-nāma, ed. Taḥsin Yāziji [Tahsin Yazıcı], Tehran, 1994.

Abu’l-Qāsem Hawāzen Qošayri, Resāla-ye Qošayriya (Pers. version), tr. Tahsin Yazıcı, Istanbul, 1956; repr. as Tasavvufun ilkeleri (Risâle-i Kuşeyrî), 2 vols., Istanbul, 1978.

M. Sadık Yiğitbaş, Kiğı, Istanbul, 1950, pp. 50-53, 78-86.

Türkiye diyanet vakfı İslâm ansiklopedisiLibrary, Istanbul, file no. 220459, pp. 1-15 (Yazıcı’s autobiography).

(Osman G. Özgüdenlı)

Originally Published: February 20, 2009

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YAZIDIS i. GENERAL The Yazidis are a heterodox Kurdish religious minority living predominantly in northern Iraq, Syria, and southeast Turkey, with well-established communities in the Caucasus and a growing European diaspora.

YAZIDIS, a heterodox Kurdish religious minority living predominantly in northern Iraq, Syria, and southeast Turkey, with well-established communities in the Caucasus and a growing European diaspora. Anecdotal evidence of the existence of Yazidi groups in northwestern Persia has not yet been proven. There are probably some 200,000- 300,000 Yazidis worldwide.

i. GENERAL

The Yazidis have long been the object of fascination among orientalists, largely due to their erroneous description by outsiders as ‘devil-worshippers’ (see below). The literature devoted to their religion is disproportionately large, considering how few they are in number by comparison with the large majority of Kurdish Muslims. Their name for themselves is usually, Ēzdi, Ēzidi, or, in some areas, Dāsini (the last, strictly speaking a tribal name). Some scholars have derived the name Yazidi from Old Iranian yazata (divine being), though the current consensus among Western academics is a derivation from Yazid b. Moʿāwiya,revered by the Yazidis as an incarnation of the divine figure Sultan Ēzi. (Kreyenbroek, 1995, p. 3.

Origins. The Yazidis’ cultural practices are observably Kurdish, and almost all speak Kurmanji (Northern Kurdish), with the exception of the villages of Baʿšiqa and Baḥzānēin northern Iraq, where Arabic is spoken. Kurmanji is the language of almost all the orally transmitted religious traditions of the Yazidis. Religious origins are somewhat complex. The religion of the Yazidis is a highly syncretistic one: Sufi influence and imagery can be seen in their religious vocabulary, especially in the terminology of their esoteric literature, but much of the mythology is non-Islamic, and their cosmogonies apparently have many points in common with those of ancient Iranian religions. Early writers attempted to describe Yazidi origins, broadly speaking, in terms of ‘Islam’, or ‘Iranian,’ or sometimes even ‘pagan’ religions; however, publications since the 1990s have shown such an approach to be over-simplistic. The origin of the Yazidi religion is now usually seen by scholars as a complex process of syncretism, whereby the belief-system and practices of a local faith had a profound influence on the religiosity of adherents of the ʿAdawiyya sufi order living in the Kurdish mountains, and caused it to deviate from Islamic norms relatively soon after the death of its founder, Shaikh ʿAdi b. Mosāfer.

History and Development. ʿAdi b. Mosāfer, who was of Omayyad descent, was born c. 1075 CE in the Bekáa valley. After studying in Baghdad under Abu’l-Ḵayr Ḥammād al-Dabbās and alongside ʿAbd- al-Qādir al-Jilāni, he settled in the valley of Lāleš (some thirty-six miles north-east of Mosul) in the early 12th century. Groups who venerated Yazid b. Moʿāwiya and the Omayyads–already known as Yazidis–had existed for some time in the area; beliefs and practices which were apparently part of an ancient Iranian religion were also retained by some of the local tribes. Shaikh ʿAdi himself, a figure of undoubted orthodoxy, enjoyed widespread influence; he died in 1162 and his tomb at Lāleš is a focal point of Yazidi pilgrimage. His name, pronounced Ādi or even Hādi, passed into Yazidi oral tradition, though full knowledge of his identity was lost within the community. Yazidism grew during the period of Atabeg and Mongol rule. Only two generations later, led by Ḥasan b. ʿAdi, the community had grown large and powerful enough to come into open conflict with the Atabeg of Mosul, who killed Ḥasan in 1246. At about the same point, it seems, the community began to incur the opprobrium of more orthodox Muslims for its excessive veneration of both Shaikh ʿAdi and Yazid b. Moʿāwiya. During the fourteenth century, important Kurdish tribes whose sphere of influence stretched well into what is now Turkey (including, for a period, the rulers of the principality of Jazira) are cited in historical sources as Yazidi (Guest, p. 45). Muslim leaders clearly perceived Yazidis as a threat; a significant battle took place in 1414, during which Shaikh ʿAdi’s tomb was razed. After the battle of Čālderān (1514), Yazidi influence at first remained considerable; a Yazidi was appointed ‘emir of the Kurds’ by the Ottomans, and, in the 1530s, Yazidi emirs ruled the province of Sorān for a time. The current family of Yazidi mirs (emirs), claiming Omayyad origins, replaced the descendants of Shaikh Ḥasan in the sixteenth or seventeenth century. However, as time passed, conversions to Islam became increasingly common and Yazidi power declined. By the end of the Ottoman Empire many important tribes and confederations still had sizeable Yazidi sections, and the dynasty of Yazidi mirs remained dominant within a limited geographical area, but Yazidis had suffered enormously from religious persecution. Until 1849, when provision for their protection was made under Ottoman law, they had not had the status of ‘People of the Book’ (Guest, pp. 103-107; Edmonds, pp. 59-60). In the 19th century complex social and political changes, many related to the Tanzimat reforms, produced an environment of increasing religious intolerance culminating in large-scale massacres of the Christian minorities. The Yazidis, also targets of militant Sunnism, suffered at the hands of Kurdish tribal leaders such as Moḥammed Beg of Rowanduz (1832) and Bedir Khan Beg (1840s ),as well as Ottoman officials, such as ʿOmar Wahbi Pasha (1893; Guest, pp. 96-97, 134-9; Edmonds, p. 60). There was some co-operation between the minorities; Yazidis of Mount Senjār sheltered Armenians during the massacres of 1915-16. During the nineteenth and early twentieth century many Yazidis fled to Georgia and Armenia. In the second half of the twentieth century, most of Turkey’s Yazidis, who still lived in fear of religious persecution, emigrated to Germany, and in the 1990s many of Iraq’s Yazidi intelligentsia arrived there, where they play an active role in diaspora affairs, maintaining contact with co-religionists in Iraq and the Caucasus (Guest, pp. 193-203, Ackermann, forthcoming).

Geographical distribution and identity. The Yazidi heartland is in Northern Iraq. A substantial community known for its conservatism lives on Mount Senjār some 80km west of Mosul on the border with Syria. A collection of farming villages and small towns lies in the Šaiḵān area, in the foothills north-east of Mosul; this area is adjacent to the shrine of Lāleš and contains the home of the mir and the settlements of Baʿšiqa and Baḥzānē, home of the qawwāls,reciters of sacred texts. In the 20th century both Šaiḵani and Senjāri communities struggled for religious dominance. In Syria there are also two main groupings, in the Jazira and the Kurd Dāḡ areas (the latter including the Semʿān and ʿAfrin communities). However, these are much smaller, probably totaling only about 15,000. In Turkey some Yazidis still live in the villages of the Ṭur ʿAbdin, southeast of Diyarbakir, remnants of a much more widespread community. The Transcaucasian communities, which once numbered some 60,000, have also declined due to economic and political factors, though accurate statistics remain unavailable. During the 1990s the population in Georgia decreased from some 30,000 to under 5,000, though numbers in Armenia have apparently remained more constant. Diaspora communities have increased correspondingly; most importantly, some 40,000 Yazidis now live in Germany, mainly in the Western provinces of Niedersachsen and Nordrhein-Westfalen. Most are from Turkey, with arrivals during the 1990s from Iraq including some influential figures. This profile may change as the situation in Iraq evolves following the fall of the Saddam regime. A much smaller community exists in the Netherlands. Other groups of Yazidis, in Belgium, Denmark, Sweden, France, Switzerland, the United Kingdom, and in the United States, Canada, and Australia, are extremely small, and probably total well under 5,000. Many attempts to define the Yazidis’ ethnic identity (notably the policies of the Baʿathist government in Iraq, which designated them as Arabs) have been politically motivated. Apart from a few Arabic- speaking clans, Yazidi communities speak Kurmanji (Northern Kurdish) as their first language, and their cultural practices are Kurdish. Most Yazidis claim Kurdish identity; in Iraq, this view has had the support of the government in the Kurdish Autonomous Region since 1991. In the Caucasus however, particularly in Armenia, to be ‘Kurdish’ is often popularly associated with an Islamic (and thus pro-Azeri) identity. Many Caucasian Yazidis, therefore, claim to belong to a separate ethnie, though the politicization of the Kurdish question in Turkey and the influence of the PKK have reportedly caused a number in Armenia to redefine themselves as Kurds. In the diaspora, the Yazidis’ status as Kurds is not debated so much as their religious origin. In nationalist discourse, the Yazidi religion is seen as the ‘original’ Kurdish faith, a view that distinguishes the Kurds from Arabs and Turks. It is sometimes inaccurately presented as a form of Zoroastrianism or, spuriously, as a ‘Cult of Angels.’ In the Caucasus, a hypothesis of Babylonian origins is favored. Such different interpretations of the Yazidis’ origins are closely interlinked with expressions of identity, and tend to be explicable in terms of the prevailing political climate.

Religious belief and practice. Contemporary Yazidism is a religion of orthopraxy. Practice, in terms of careful adherence to rules governing all aspects of life, is more important than the role of scriptural text, dogma and professions of personal belief. Two key and interrelated features of Yazidism are: a) a preoccupation with religious purity and b) a belief in metempsychosis. The first of these is expressed in the system of caste, the food laws, the traditional preferences for living in Yazidi communities, and the variety of taboos governing many aspects of life. The second is crucial; Yazidis traditionally believe that the Seven Holy Beings (see below) are periodically reincarnated in human form, called a ḵāṣsá. Not only does this reinforce the caste system, as the members of the dominant religious castes are the descendants of the most recent manifestations of the Holy Beings in Shaikh ʿAdi and his companions, but it also provides a mechanism for syncretism, as figures from other traditions can be said to be earlier manifestations of the ḵāṣsá. A belief in the reincarnation of lesser Yazidi souls also exists; like the Ahl-e Ḥaqq, the Yazidis use the metaphor of a change of garment to describe the process, which they call kirās gehorrin, ‘changing the shirt.’ Alongside this, Yazidi mythology also includes descriptions of heaven and hell, and other traditions attempting to reconcile these ideas with the belief-system of reincarnation.

In the Yazidi worldview, God created the world, which is now in the care of a Heptad of seven Holy Beings, often known as ‘Angels’ or haft serr (the Seven Mysteries.) Pre-eminent among these is Ṭāʾus-ē Malak or Malak Ṭāʾus, the Peacock Angel, who is equated with Satan by outsiders. Most Yazidis find this identification highly offensive; however, it is clear that Malak Ṭāʾus is an ambiguous figure. The Ketēbā Jelwa ‘Book of Illumination” which claims to be the words of Malak Ṭāʾus, and which presumably represents Yazidi belief (see below), states that he allocates responsibilities, blessings and misfortunes as he sees fit and that it is not for the race of Adam to question him. The Yazidi taboo against the word Šaiṭān, and on words containing š and t/ṭ that might (to their ears) recall it, may indicate some perceived connection between this figure and Malak Tāʾus. The reasons for the connection remain unclear. Although some Sufi traditions have presented Satan as a redeemed or holy figure, Shaikh ʿAdi b. Mosāfer was apparently orthodox on the matter. However, pre-Islamic Zoroastrian tradition indicates some link between Ahriman and the peacock, and this ambiguity may predate Islam. Yazidi accounts of creation, which have much in common with those of the Ahl-e Ḥaqq state that the world created by God was at first ‘a pearl’. It remained in this very small and enclosed state for some time (often a magic number such as forty or forty thousand years) before being remade in its current state; during this period the Heptad were called into existence, God made a covenant with them and entrusted the world to them. It has been suggested, on the evidence of pre-Zoroastrian Iranian cosmogony and its similarity to Yazidi cosmogonies, that if the Yazidis’ ancestors venerated a benign demiurge who set the world (in its current state) in motion, the role of this figure may have become ambiguous when they came into contact with Zoroastrians, whose cosmogony was essentially similar, but whose demiurge was Ahriman, who polluted the world. Thus Yazidism would be, not a form of Zoroastrianism, but a religion possessing an Iranian belief-system akin to it.

Besides Malak Ṭāʾus, members of the Heptad (the Seven), who were called into existence by God at the beginning of all things, include Shaikh Ādi, his companion Shaikh Ḥasan, and a group known as the ‘four Mysteries’, Šamsadin, Faḵradin, Sajādin and Nāṣerdin. These latter, according to oral tradition, were the sons of an Ēzdinā Mir, whom Shaikh Ādi met at Lāleš. All these figures are eponyms of clans of Ādāni shaikhs (see below); in Yazidi accounts of the cosmogony they tend to have other names, and they are also identified in other incarnations, such as Ḥasan al-Bāṣri as an incarnation of Shaikh Ḥasan. Not all listings of the Seven are identical; sometimes, for instance, Shaikh Ādi himself is identified with Malak Ṭāʾus, and Shaikh Obakr is added.

The ḵāṣṣ and other holy beings are the focus of frequent veneration. The Heptad, under the names of the families of Shaikh Ādi and his companions, are objects of devotion, but so also are numerous lesser figures, also usually eponyms of clans of shaikhs or pirs (see below), who are requested for help on practical matters. Shaikh Mand, for instance, is believed to cure snakebites, and his descendants may handle snakes safely; the family of Pir Jarwān has power over scorpions. A female figure, Ḵātuna Faḵra, is associated with help in childbirth. Help from such beings may be sought by consultation with their descendants, or by veneration of a sacred site associated with them–occasionally a tomb, but more often a shrine consisting of a room with a spire, a small votive altar, a sacred tree, or a pool or cave. Many people who know little of the higher-status sacred texts make offerings at such places. Some of these cults appear to be very localized, but others are respected by members of other religions, and Yazidis also solicit help from local saints associated with other religions, especially Christianity (Kreyenbroek, 1995, pp. 91-123, 145- 68; Drower, pp. 24-29, 51-60).

Pilgrimage. The holiest Yazidi site is the valley of Lāleš, site of the tomb of Shaikh Ādi. A sacred microcosm of the world, as it were, it contains not only many shrines dedicated to the ḵāṣṣ, but a number of other landmarks corresponding to other sites or symbols of significance in other faiths, including pirrā selāt (Ṣerāṭ Bridge) and a mountain called Mt. ʿArafāt. The two sacred springs are called Zamzam and Kāniyā spi ‘The White Spring’. The former rises in a cave below the sanctuary of Shaikh Ādi, the heart of the holy place. Water from the springs is mixed with earth from the holy valley to make barāt, little molded balls that are taken away and treated with reverence; they play a part in some rites of passage such as marriage and funerary rites. If possible, Yazidis make at least one pilgrimage to Lāleš during their lifetime, and those living in the region try to attend at least once a year for the autumn “Feast of the Assembly” (see below). As for Lāleš, pilgrimages to lesser sites may also be undertaken, to seek intercession, in gratitude for prayers answered, or as a vow.

Prayer. Formalized prayer is largely a matter of personal preference and is not obligatory. The practice of praying facing the rising, noonday, and setting sun which is described by travelers seems not to have been universal and is now seen as an ideal rather than a norm. Such prayer should be accompanied by certain gestures, including kissing the rounded neck (gerivān) of the sacred shirt (kerās). Those who wear the girdle–the black resta for certain dignitaries, the white šutik for other Yazidis–say a prayer when putting it on. Prayers have almost exclusively been transmitted orally; their texts have themes in common but vary in details.

Festivals: (see FESTIVALS IV. YAZIDI AND AHL-E ḤAQQ) Apart from individual rites of passage, such as marriage, baptism, circumcision, and death, Yazidis observe a number of communal festivals, some more widespread than others. The Yazidi New Year falls in Spring (somewhat later than Nowruz). There is some lamentation by women in the cemeteries, to the accompaniment of the music of the qawwāls (see below), but the festival is generally characterized by joyous events: the music of dahol (drum) and zornā (shawm), communal dancing and meals, the decorating of eggs. Similarly the village ṭewaf (Ar. ṭawāf),a festival held in the spring in honor of the patron of the local shrine, has secular music, dance and meals in addition to the performance of sacred music. Another important festival is the ṭāwusgerrān (circulation of the peacock) where qawwāls and other religious dignitaries visit Yazidi villages, bringing the senjāq, sacred images representing the peacock and associated with Malak Ṭāʾus. These are venerated, taxes are collected from the pious, sermons are preached, and holy water distributed. The greatest festival of the year for ordinary Yazidis is the Ježnā Jamāʿiya (Feast of the Assembly) at Lāleš, a seven-day occasion. A focus of widespread pilgrimage, this is an important time for social contact and affirmation of identity. The religious center of the event is the belief in an annual gathering of the Heptad in the holy place at this time; rituals practiced include the sacrifice of a bull at the shrine of Shaikh Šams, the washing of the ‘bier of Shaikh Ādi,’ the practice of samāʿ (see below). Other festivals are more likely to be kept by the few than the many. Religious leaders observe forty-day fasts in summer and winter; a three-day winter fast culminating in the celebration of the birth of the ḵāṣṣ Ēzid is kept more widely. The Čēlkān, a tribe originating in the border areas of Turkey and Syria, keep a winter festival called Bātizmiya. For some Yazidis at least, the ḵāṣṣ have their feast-days. Counterparts to certain Islamic feasts, including ʿId al-aḏḥā, ʿId al-feṭr, and Laylat al-barāʾa are also observed by some.

Purity and Taboos. The Yazidis’ concern with religious purity, and their reluctance to mix elements perceived to be incompatible, is shown not only in their caste system, but also in various taboos affecting everyday life. Some of these, such as those on exogamy or on insulting or offending men of religion, are widely respected. Others, such as the prohibition of eating lettuce or wearing the color blue, are often ignored when men of religion are not present. Others still are less widely known and may be localized. The purity of the four elements, Earth, Air, Fire, and Water, is protected by a number of taboos–against spitting on earth, water, or fire, for instance. These may reflect ancient Iranian preoccupations, as apparently do the taboos concerning bodily refuse, hair, and menstrual blood. Too much contact with non-Yazidis is also polluting; in the past Yazidis avoided military service which would have led them to live among Muslims, and were forbidden to share such items as cups or razors with outsiders. The mixing with others brought about by formal education may be a major reason behind the well-known Yazidi taboo on learning to read and write. In the past, only Shaikhs of the Ādāni lineage group had the right to do so. Certain words are the subject of taboos, such as those dealing with cursing or stoning, or those which are felt to sound like the name Šaiṭān, whose utterance is an unforgivable insult to Malak Ṭāʾus, obliging any Yazidi who heard it (in the past at any rate) to slay the speaker. Auditory resemblance may lie behind the taboo against eating lettuce, whose name ḵās resembles Kurdish pronunciations of ḵāṣṣ. The taboo against eating pork appears to be a custom which follows Islam rather than a specifically Yazidi edict. Prohibitions are also attested, in certain areas at least, against fish, cockerel, gazelle, and various vegetables including okra, cauliflower, and pumpkin.

A widespread myth about the Yazidis’ origin which gives them a distinctive ancestry expresses their feelings of difference from other races. Adam and Eve quarreled about which of them provided the creative element in the begetting of children. Each stored their seed in a jar which was then sealed. When Eve’s was opened it was full of insects and other unpleasant creatures, but inside Adam’s jar was a beautiful boy-child. This lovely child, known as Šahed b. Jarr (Šahed, son of Jar) grew up to marry a houri and became the ancestor of the Yazidis.

Social and religious groups. The Yazidis divide themselves into three endogamous major castes, with religious orders also playing an important role. Most Yazidis belong to the morid (layman; literally ‘disciple’]) group, which is endogamous, but, within the group, marriage is not restricted. Every morid must have a shaikhand a pir; the lineage of these is determined by the morid’s own heredity. The Shaikhs are divided into three endogamous lineage groups, the Šamsāni, Ādāni and Qātāni, the latter of which also shares its ancestry with the family of the mir. The pirs are divided into four main groups, and forty clans, most of whom may intermarry. Both groups receive alms from their morids. Tithes paid to the Shaikh are more substantial; however, the difference between the two groups lies not in the nature of their religious tasks, but rather in ancestry (the shaikhs apparently associated with non-Kurdish companions or relations of Shaikh Ādi, and the pirs with his Kurdish companions). At puberty, each morid should also choose a ‘brother’ or ‘sister of the Hereafter’, berāyē or ḵweškā aḵeratē, normally a Shaikh, who performs certain important rituals at transitional points such as marriage and death.

The Qawwāls or reciters constitute a different class, and come from two clans, the Kurmanji-speaking Dimli and the Arabic-speaking Tazhi, settled in the villages of Baʿšiqa and Beḥzānē, in the Šaiḵan area. They specialize in the playing of religious music on sacred instruments, the daf (frame-drum) and šebāb (flute), and in the recital of the sacred hymns or qawls. They also carry out the ṭawusgerrān; these were severely curtailed in the twentieth century when crossing international frontiers became more difficult; the Transcaucasian communities in particular were effectively cut off from the Yazidi religious centers.

There are also religious ‘orders’ whose members may come from different castes. The Faqirs become members of their order by an initiation which was once open to all, but as time has passed have become in effect a hereditary group, with initiation undergone almost exclusively by members of faqir families. They are expected to lead a life of piety and abstinence, by fasting, refraining from drinking and smoking, avoiding any violent behavior. Their clothes, especially their black woolen ḵerqa or tunic that recalls that of Shaikh Ādi, are considered to be sacred, and their persons must not be harmed. Some are very learned in religious lore. The Kočaks are a small non- hereditary group charged with outdoor labor for Shaikh Ādi, such as cutting wood and drawing water for the shrine. Some in the past have been clairvoyants, miracle workers and interpreters of dreams; a few have acquired political influence in this way, such as the nineteenth- century Kočak Mirzā of Mount Senjār, who predicted the fall of Islam.

There are a number of important offices in the Yazidi hierarchy. The Mir (prince) is both temporal and spiritual head of the community; his person is sacred, and in theory all Yazidis owe him spiritual allegiance. In practice the temporal influence of the family, based in Bāʿdrē in Šaiḵān, has declined since the late 18th century, though it remains a substantial landowner, and is active in Kurdish politics. Members of this family are linked to the Qātāni Shaikhs. The Prince, along with other dignitaries, is a member of the Yazidi Majlesi Roḥāni ‘Religious Council’. The Bābā Shaikh (Father Shaikh), is the leader of the Shaikhs and must come from the Šamsāni branch. He must lead a pious life; regarded by many as the spiritual leader of the Yazidis, he supervises the Kočaks and many of the ceremonies at Lāleš cannot take place without his presence. The functions of the Piš- imām (Foremost Imam) are less clear; a representative of the Ādāni Shaikhs, he leads certain rituals. The Bābā Čāwuš, (Father Guardian), guardian of the shrine at Lāleš, leads a life of piety and celibacy. He lives there permanently and has authority over what happens there; he is assisted by the feqrayyāt, (celibate ‘nuns’) who are unmarried or widowed and also care for the sanctuaries. These are very few in number. Successive families of faqirs living there on a temporary basis also look after the fabric of the shrine and take care of guests.

The institution of karāfat, whereby a relationship of sponsorship is created with a man on whose knees a boy is circumcised, exists among Yazidis as for other groups. This often creates close relationships with other communities; since the family of the child may not intermarry with that of the kariv for seven generations, the kariv himself is usually not a Yazidi, and the institution serves to make useful alliances with neighbors. Yazidis in Northern Iraq may also have a mirabbi (literally ‘teacher’), chosen from any caste by rules of heredity. Textual traditions. Most Yazidi religious texts have been passed on exclusively by oral tradition, and many features characteristic of oral literature can be seen in them. It is now generally accepted that the manuscripts of the Yazidi Sacred Books, the Masḥafā Reš and Ketēbā Jelwa,published in 1911 and 1913, were ‘forgeries’ in the sense that they were written by non-Yazidis in response to Western travelers’ and scholars’ interest in the Yazidi religion, amid a general environment of trading in ancient manuscripts. However, the material within these manuscripts is consistent with the contents of the Yazidi oral traditions, and to that extent they may be considered authentic. Nevertheless, it seems that written texts with the titles Masḥefā Reš and Ketēbā Jelwa were known among the Yazidis long before this date, though they have remained unseen even by the vast majority of the community. The latter title is a shortened form of the title of a work by Ḥasan b. ʿAdi, but it currently seems to denote manuscripts used for divination, which are still kept by certain Ādāni Shaikhs. Other written texts were known; mešur, kept by Pirs, giving accounts of lineages and attached morid families, and kaškul, which included prayers, religious history and some Qawls. These collections may also have included some of the Arabic odes (qaṣidas) attributed to Shaikh Ādi which are used in the community. However, there is no evidence that the large corpus of sacred texts once existed in the form of a book.

The core religious texts are the qawls, hymns in Kurmanji which are often dedicated to a ḵāṣṣ and which make frequent allusions to events and persons not explained in the texts. These have, for most of their history, been orally transmitted, though there is some evidence that not all were orally composed. Knowledge and recitation of the qawls has traditionally been the province of the Qawwāl, though their training school no longer exists in their home villages. Few members of the Qawwāl families now learn either sacred texts or sacred instruments and those with the widest knowledge of the Qawls and their interpretation are now from other classes. In 1979 two young Yazidi intellectuals published a number of the qawls, provoking considerable controversy within the community. (A few had been published in the Soviet Union the previous year, but were presented as part of a folklore anthology and largely ignored). By the beginning of the 21st century more had been published in Armenia and a research program in Germany was almost complete. With the assent of the community, this latter aimed to collect and transcribe the many unpublished qawls for use in academic research and the education of Yazidi children, especially in the diaspora. Yazidism is thus being transformed into a scriptural religion.

The qawls, with their allusions and obscurities, are not easy to understand, and a tradition of interpretation has grown up. Each qawl has a čirōk or ‘story’ associated with it, which explains its context. Some of these čirōks show signs of having been developed long after the qawl. In general the qawls and the knowledge within them are the province of men of religion, but on certain occasions, a moṣḥābat is given. This is a sermon usually consisting of narrative interspersed with couplets from a qawl, which explains the sacred text, and is aimed at a general audience.

Other types of sacred text exist: the bayt which is difficult to distinguish from the qawl in formal terms, but unlike the secular Kurdish bayt is used to accompany religious events such as ṭāwusgerrān; the qaṣida in Kurdish, often a praise-poem for a holy man which does not formally correspond to the Arabic or Persian qaṣida; duʿā and dirozā, prayers for private and public use. There are seven forms of Yazidi samāʿ, consisting of music and the singing of hymns, usually a combination of qawl and qaṣida; a solemn procession is also often part of these.

Bibliography:

A. Ackermann “A Double Minority: Notes on the emerging Yezidi Diaspora” in W. Kokot and Kh. Tölölyan, eds., Religion, Identity and Diaspora. London, forthcoming.

P. Anastase Marie, “La découverte récente des deux livres sacrés des Yézîdis,” Anthropos 6, 1911, pp. 1-39.

W. F. Ainsworth, Travels and Researches in Asia Minor, Mesopotamia and Armenia, London, 1841.

M. Bittner, Die Heiligen Bücher der Jeziden oder Teufelsanbeter (Kurdisch und Arabisch), Denkschriften der kaiserlichen Akademie der Wissenschaften inWien, Phil.-Hist., Klasse, Band 55, Vienna, 1913.

O. and C. Celil, “Qewl û Beytê ṰEzdiya” in Zargotina K’urda/Kurdskiĭ Folklor, Moscow 1978, pp. 5ff.

Ṣ. al- Damlūjī, al-Yazīdiyya, Mosul 1949.

E.S. Drower, Peacock Angel, London, 1941. R.Y. Ebied and M. J. L. Young, “An account of the history and rituals of the Yazīdīs of Mosul,” Le Muséon 85, 1972, pp. 481-522.

C.J. Edmonds, A Pilgrimage to Lalish, London, 1967.

R. H. W. Empson, The Cult of the Peacock Angel, London, 1928.

R. Frank, Scheich ‘Adî, der grosse Heilige der Jezîdîs, Berlin, 1911.

N. Fuccaro, The Other Kurds: Yazidis in Colonial Iraq, London, 1999.

G. Furlani, Testi Religiosi dei Yezidi, Testi e Documenti per la Storia delle Religioni 3, Bologna, 1930.

J. S. Guest, The Yezidis: A Study in Survival, New York and London 1987, rev. ed. Survival Among the Kurds: A History of the Yezidis 1993.

M. Guidi, “Origine dei Yazidi e Storia Religiosa dell’Islam e del Dualismo,” RSO 12, 1932, pp. 266-300.

P. G. Kreyenbroek, “Mithra and Ahreman, Binyāmīn and Malak Ṭāwūs: Traces of an Ancient Myth in the cosmogonies of Two Modern Sects,” in Recurrent Patterns in Iranian Religion, ed. Ph. Gignoux, pp. 57-79, Stud.Ir., Cahier 11, Paris, 1992.

Idem, Yezidism–Its Background, Observances and Textual Tradition, Lampeter, Wales, 1995.

Idem, “On the study of some heterodox sects in Kurdistan,” in Islam des Kurdes, Les Annales de l’Autre Islam no. 5, Paris, 1998, pp. 163- 84.

Idem, with Kh. Jindy Rashow, God and Sheykh Adi are Perfect: Sacred Hymns and Religious Narratives of the Yezidis,in the series Iranica, ed. M. Macuch, Berlin, forthcoming.

A. H. Layard, Nineveh and its Remains, 2 vols, London, 1849.

R. Lescot, Enquête sur les Yezidis de Syrie et du Djebel Sindjar, Beirut, 1938.

J. Menant, Les Yézidiz : Épisodes de l’Histoire des Adorateurs du Diable, Paris, 1892.

A. Mingana, “Devil-worshippers; their beliefs and their sacred books,” JRAS, 1916, pp. 505-26.

Idem, “Sacred books of the Yezidis,” in ibid., 1921, pp. 117-19. F. Nau and J. Tfinkdji, “Receuil de textes et de documents sur les Yézidis,” Revue de l’Orient Chrétien, 2nd series, vol. 20, 1915-17, pp. 142-200, 225-75.

N. Siouffi, “Notice sur la secte des Yézidis,” JA, ser. 7, vol. 19, 1882 pp. 252-68.

Idem, “Notice sur le Chéikh ‘Adi et la Secte des Yézidis,” JA, ser. 8, vol. 5,1885, pp. 78-100.

Kh. Silêman, and Kh. Jindy, Êzadiyatîliber Roşnaya Hindek Têkstêd Aînê Êzdiyan, Baghdad, 1979; repr. 1995 in Latin script, n.p.

(Christine Allison)

Originally Published: July 20, 2004

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YAZIDIS ii. INITIATION IN YAZIDISM

Three different rites can mark the initiation of a Yazidi child as a member of the community.

YAZIDIS ii. Initiation in Yazidism

Three different rites can mark the initiation of a Yazidi child as a member of the community: (1) the cutting of a baby boy’s first locks (bisk); (2) mor kirin, lit. “to stamp, seal,” and (3) for boys, circumcision (see also Wensinck; in Kurdish sunnet, Pers. sonnat,Turk. sünnet). The relative importance attached to each of these ceremonies varies to some extent from region to region.

(1) The bisk ceremony takes place in babyhood: according to the older literature it should be done on the fortieth day after a birth; modern Yazidis generally have it done when the boy is seven, nine, or eleven months old. The ceremony essentially consists in the cutting off of two or three of the child’s locks by the family’s shaikh. Traditionally, one lock is said to be for the child’s shaikh and one for its pir (for these social groups, see YAZIDIS at iranica.com),but in modern practice the locks are usually preserved by the family. The bisk ceremony is regarded as the central initiatory ritual by most Yazidis from Turkey, Armenia. and Syria. In the European Diaspora, the term is often translated as “baptism.” The ceremony is reminiscent of the Moslem ʿaqiqa celebrated on the seventh day after birth, when a boy’s hair is cut and a name is given (see Juynboll and Pedersen). The origins of the bisk may have been inspired by the Islamic rite, but the Yazidi ceremony takes place at a later stage, when the child has already been named.

(2) Those whose place of origin lies within easy reach of the Yazidi religious center Lalish (Pers. Lāleš, in present-day Iraq; see Dengê Ezîdiyan) tend to use the translation “baptism” for the ceremony of mor kirin, which in fact shows similarities to Christian baptism. This ceremony should ideally take place at Lalish, since water from the holy Kaniya Spî (White Spring) or the only slightly less holy Zimzim spring (cf. the Islamic Zamzam) must be used. The rite is performed by a man or woman from a shaikh or pir family who is officiating at Lalish as a Mijêwir “custodian” (Micêwirê Kaniya Sipî)at the time. Essentially, it consists of pouring holy water from either spring on the child’s head three times. Ideally, mor kirin should be done when the child is nine or ten years old, but, if this is not possible, it may be done at any stage during a person’s life. According to Iraqi Yazidi tradition, the corpses of those who die without mor kirin should be especially washed by their shaikh, pir, or “Brother/Sister of the Hereafter” (Kurd. Birayê/Xushka Axiretê) or, failing that, by someone else in their name. For those who are unable to get to Lalish, the ritual may be performed with water from the Lalish springs which has been brought to their dwelling places by someone else. Nevertheless the custom is more widely observed by Yazidis whose places of origin is near Lalish than by those from Turkey or Armenia. The latter no longer appear to regard it as an essential part of Yazidi life. The Yazidi ceremony may owe its origin to Christian practice, but, since water probably played an important role in pre-Islamic Iranian religions, the question of its roots must remain a matter of speculation.

(3) Circumcision, the third initiatory ritual for boys, is, with certain exceptions, generally practised among Yazidis. The operation is usually performed soon after birth. It takes place on the knees of the kerîf (approximately “godfather”), with whom the child will have a life- long formal relationship. A range of obligations arises from this relationship, and the two families may not intermarry for seven generations. The kerîf is therefore generally chosen from a group with whom intermarriage would in any case be impossible, such as a caste other than one’s own or a Moslem family. Circumcision is said to have been traditionally rejected by the prominent Ḵālitiya tribe, which seems to have been more strongly exposed to Christian influences than most other Yazidi communities. It is not, or no longer practised in Armenia. This suggests that, although most Yazidis regard the rite as essential, it is perceived by others as being of Islamic origin and therefore not obligatory on Yazidis.

Bibliography:

Th. W. Juynboll and J. Pedersen, “Aḳīḳa,” in EI2 I, pp. 337.

P. G. Kreyenbroek, Yezidism, its Background, Observances and Textual Tradition, Lewiston, N.Y., 1995. A. J. Wensinck, “Khitān,” in EI2 V, pp. 20-22.

Websites, accessed on 11 March 2005.

Lalish.com, at http://www.lalish.com/. Dengê Ezîdiyan, “Die Geschichte des Religionszentrums Lalish,” at http://www.yezidi.org/.

August 11, 2005

(Philip G. Kreyenbroek)

Originally Published: July 20, 2005 ______

YEKI BUD, YEKI NABUD the first collection of modern Persian short stories, and, arguably the foremost work by the eminent fiction writer Mohammad Ali Jamalzadeh (1892-1997).

YEKI BUD, YEKI NABUD (Berlin, 1921, tr. by Mansur Heshmat Moyyad and Paul Sprachman as Once Upon a Time, New York, 1985), the first collection of modern Persian short stories, and, arguably the foremost work by the eminent fiction writer Mohammad Ali Jamalzadeh (Moḥammad ʿAli Jamālzāda, also Djamalzadeh, 1892-1997)

The title of the collection, generally regarded as representing a departure from the classic genre of story telling in Iran (Āryanpur, II, p. 278;Yarshater, p. 34; Jazayery, p. 260), replicates the traditional formulaic opening of Persian folktales (qeṣṣa). The collection itself contains a foreword (“Dibāča,” tr. by Haideh Daragahi, as “Preface,” 1984), six satirical short stories and sketches: “Fārsi šekar ast” (‘Persian is Sugar’), “Rajol-e siāsi”, (‘The Politician’), “Dusti-e ḵāle ḵerse” (‘With Friends Like That’), “Dard-e del-e Mollā Qorbān-ʿAli” (‘Mullah Qorban-Ali’s Complaint’), “Bila dig bila čoqondar” (‘What’s Sauce for the Goose’), and “Veylān-al-Dowla” (‘Vaylan-al-Dowla’), as well as a glossary of colloquial words and phrases, which formed the nucleus of Jamalzadeh’s Farhag-e loḡāt-e ʿāmiāna (Dictionary of Colloquial Words, 1962, ed. Moḥammad-Jaʿfar Maḥjub).

The “Preface,” in which Jamalzadeh celebrates modernity through the development of modern literary forms is noted by many critics as a literary manifesto for modernist Persian prose writing (Moayyad, 1991, p. 31; Mirʿābedini, p. 77; Hillmann, 1988a, p. 293). It opens with a verse from the celebrated 11th century court poet Farroḵi Sistāni in praise of original and novel discourse, and is of considerable significance in the analysis of the processes through which 20th century Persian literature has responded to the challenges of the modern fiction writing in the West (Daragahi, p. 104; K. Pārsinežād, pp. 60-62).

Attempting to promote what he terms as “literary democracy,” Jamalzadeh calls upon Persian writers to denounce the pretentious convoluted style of the literary elite, and instead, celebrate the aesthetic components, the democratic potentials, and the communicative power of the vernacular. Secondly, he urges them to opt for prose fiction, which, as he argues, would bring together different classes of people, and through which all kinds of propaganda can be made, political or otherwise.

In formulating these two themes, which according to him were responsible for cultural and social progress in the European countries, Jamalzadeh was not only influenced by late 19th and early 20th centuries European writers, but also by Persian journalists and writers such as Zayn-al-ʿĀbedin Marāḡaʾi (1837-1910), the author of Siāḥat-nāma-ye Ebrāhim Beg (The Travel Diaries of Ebrahim Beg, Cairo, 1895), a fictional travel narrative depicting the anarchic tyranny and backwardness of the country (I. Parsinejad, pp. 427-40), and ʿAli Akbar Dehḵodā (1879-1956), whose Čarand parand, written in colloquial language, in sharp contrast to the dominant literary trend and bookish style of the day, owed much of its success to being simultaneously intelligible to ordinary folk and entertaining to the intellectual elite and sophisticated men of letters (Yusofi, p. 793). He may have also been influenced by Mirza Ḥabib Eṣfahāni’s translation of James Morier’s (1782-1849) The Adventures of Hajji Baba of Ispahan (London, 1824).

“Fārsi šekar ast,” first appeared in the January 1921 issue of Kāva (1916-22), a reformist and nationalistic journal, published in Berlin by the noted Iranian scholar Ḥasan Taqizāda (1878-1970, q.v.). In this first-person narrative, Jamalzadeh targets one of the two main themes of the “Dibāča,” namely the language. The narrator, returning home after spending a few years in Europe, is detained at the border customs and imprisoned in a windowless warehouse together with a traditionalist mullah, a pseudo-modernist (farangi-maāb), and an ordinary salt-of-the-earth character, who neither understands the Arabic-laden Persian of the former, nor the equally incomprehensible language of the latter, which is sprinkled with French words and expressions. Jamalzadeh vividly depicts these most unlikely cellmates as social types. The Mullah’s retreat into the past, and the pseudo-modernist’s refuge in foreignness turns the narrative of the detention house into a hall of mirrors in which the Persian society of the time, caught between the clash of inherited traditions and modern European cultures, is reflected. The story, despite long decades of developments in Persian story-telling techniques has not lost its relevance and literary appeal (Hillmann, 1988b, p. 313).

“Rajol-e siāsi,” is also a critique of the corrupt and chaotic politics in the wake of the Constitutional Revolution, bringing a taste of political power to the uneducated multitude. Sheikh Jaʿfar Ḥallāj, a simple wool carter, finds his way into this political environment by chance. Disappointed by what he experiences, he soon abandons politics to live a contended life in the provincial town of Nāʾin.

Mollā Qorbān-ʿAli, the narrator of the next story, is a married man with deeply held religious beliefs, who falls in love with his neighbor’s young daughter. The girl dies after a fatal illness and the father asks the Mollā to recite the Qor’an at her deathbed. Finding himself alone with the corpse in the mosque, and caught in the grips of an irresistible desire, he kisses her lips. He is arrested and thrown in jail, wherein he narrates the account of his long unhappy life, without recognizing that the values which he subscribes to are the very same that deny him earthly pleasure.

The next story of the collection, “Dusti-e ḵāle ḵerse” (lit. The friendship of Auntie Bear), gets its title from a Persian saying which implies a deceitful friendship fraught with dangers. The familiar depiction of Russia as a bear turns the saying into an apt title for a story which takes place during the Russian occupation of Iran in World War I. Told by an idealist narrator, the story revolves around the unfortunate fate of Ḥabib-Allāh, an innkeeper, who tries to save the life of a wounded Russian Cossack and is shot to death by him. The narrator’s perception of the world, along with his nationalistic dreams are shattered as he watches the scene of shooting from a distance.

Jamalzadeh’s engagement with, and criticism of, the religious establishment reemerges in “Bila dig bila čoqondar,” which revolves around a conversation in a public bath between a Persian who lives in Europe and a European bath-attendant who had resided several years in Iran. The conversation, which often reminds one of some passages of Hajji Baba of Ispahan, displays Iran’s suffering from an oppressive elite and an entrenched clerical establishment, and highlights the obtrusive interference of the foreign powers, and the insincerity and blind arrogance of the foreign advisors (Moayyad, 1985, p. 12). Eventually, however, the exchange of memories and observations balances off some of the nostalgic images of the Persian, and some of the hostile sarcasms of the European.

In “Veylān-al-Dowla”, the last story of the collection, Jamalzadeh sketches another social type, a ‘vagrant of realm’, who, never gets a life of his own and being nothing but a nuisance and headache for others, commits suicide (Balay and Cuypers, pp. 147). Jamalzadeh’s condensed, and yet vivid depiction of Veylān-al-Dowla’s last hours, converts the story into a drama of the life of the mind, and inspires the readers to recognize, beneath his idleness and empty boastings, the face of a human being desperate for sympathy and help.

The publication of Yeki bud yeki nabud caused a great stir and attracted both extravagant praise and equally strong condemnation. According to a letter by ʿAbd-al-Raḥim Ḵalḵāli to Jamalzadeh, dated 8 November 1922, some religious observers and their circle of followers found the book blasphemous, and an offence to the cultural, religious, and moral values (Kamshad, pp. 94-95; Katouzian, pp. 190- 91; for the text of the letter see Jamalzadeh, Šāhkār, 2nd edition, Tehran, 1957, pp. 2-3) This reaction might have been a factor in discouraging the writer from publishing any further fiction for the next 20 years.

Among the collection’s earliest admirers was the eminent Persian scholar Moḥammad Qazvini (1877-1949). In his letter of 28 December 1922 to Jamalzadeh, he lavishly praised the simple, innovative, and flowing language of the stories as “a perfect example of present day Persian,” and commended him for demonstrating that familiarity with other cultures and languages need not result in dependence on borrowed styles and foreign loan words (Qazvini’s letter to Jamalzadeh, Once Upon a Time, pp. 25-29; see also Qazvini’s letter to Taqizāda, in Az Ṣabā tā Nimā, Vol. 2, p. 275). While Qazvini’s praise was focused on the language of the collection, Arthur Christensen (1875-1945), the outstanding Danish scholar of Iranian philology and folklore, along with many other critics in later years, acknowledged the book as a milestone in introducing modern techniques of fiction writing into the mainstream of Persian literature (Nikitine, p. 23; Yarshater, 1988, p. 33; Hillmann, 1976, pp. 11-13; Mirʿābedini, p. 79).

Some other critics, however, did not concur with these favorable comments. In most of the sketches of the collection, as they argue, Jamalzadeh, despite his conjectures on modern prose narratives in the ‘Preface,’ merely exploits the popular techniques of the plot- centered traditional Persian folk tales (Kamshad, pp. 109-11), and his characters, rather than growing into real individuals with psychological and personal characteristics, are depicted as social types (Barāhani, pp. 550-561; Balay and Cuypers, pp. 147-62, 207- 208). The view is not shared by other commentators, who have traced distinct personal traits in Jamalzadeh’s portrayal of some of his characters/narrators who actively take part in the events of the stories. The narrators of “With Friends Like That,” “Mollā Qorbān ʿAli’s Complaints,” and “What’s Sauce for the Goose,” whose worldviews are challenged by the way the stories unfold, provide telling examples (Pedersen, pp. 7-57).

Jamalzadeh’s depiction of ordinary people, although, as noted by a critic, is embellished with Orientalist motifs (Navabpour, p. 72-74), illustrated the changes in the perception of the world in the early days of modern fiction and heralded a new literary sensibility. Glowing with colorful expressions and colloquialisms—although they may seem forced or artificial to the contemporary readers (Kamshad, p. 111; Moayyad and Sprachman p. 17), these witty satires depict the Persian society of the early decades of the 20th century with unprecedented realism and local color, and subject it to harsh criticism (Daragahi, p. 104; Yarshater, 1984, p. 38). More importantly, his somewhat nebulous notion of “literary democracy” has taken shape in subsequent decades and has brought in a more rounded depiction of characters of different classes and beliefs (Rahimieh, p. 22; Yavari, p. 12).

Jamalzadeh’s stories, unlike the traditional tales, are situated in a particular time and place and his characters speak in their own voice and language. However, the absence of character development in some of his stories, his reluctance to adopt a more innovative approach and experiment with and exploit the very brevity and terse coherence of the short story as a distinct literary genre (Daragahi, p. 108; Mashiah, p. 110, 143), along with the light-hearted tenor of his stories and sketches (Mirṣādeqi, p. 593), might explain why, despite his status as a pioneer of modern fiction, he has not found many followers among the younger generation of writers, unlike those who immediately followed him, and most notably Sadeq Hedayat (1903- 1951) and Sadeq Chubak (1916-1998).

Selected Translations:

Danish:

Arthur Christensen, “Rajol-e siāsi” Kulturskitser fra Iran, Copenhagen, 1931, pp. 179-84.

English: Mansur Heshmat Moyyad and Paul Sprachman, Once Upon a Time, New York, 1985)

Seyed Manoochehr Moosavi, “Fārsi šekar ast”, in Michael Hillmann, ed., Major Voices in Contemporary Persian Literature, in Literature East and West 20, Austin, Texas, l976, pp. 13-20; “Dard-e del-e Mollā-Qorbān ʿAli” Ahang, Delhi, April 1944.

French:

Stella Corbin and Hassan Lotfi (excluding “Fārsi šekar ast”), Choix de Nouvelles, UNESCO, Paris, 1959 (with an introduction by Henri Massé).

Shahin Sarkisian (abridged translation of four stories of the collection), Journal de Teheran, 1950.

German:

“Rajol-e siāsi” Die Reise zum wonningen Fisch (an anthology of humorous short stories, Austria, 1951.

Rudolf Gelpke, “Dusti-e Ḵāle ḵerse”, Persische Meistererzähler der Gegenwart, Zürich, 1961.

Russian: B. N. Zakhoder, with some explanatory notes and a detailed preface by A. Bolotnikoff, 1936.

Urdu:

Munibur Rahman, “Dusti-e Ḵāle ḵerse”, Fikr u Nazar, 1/1, Aligrah, 1945.

Bibliography:

Yaḥyā Āryanpur, Az Ṣabā tā Nimā, 3 vols., Tehran, 1995.

Christophe Balay and Michel Cuypers, Aux Sources de la Nouvelle Persane, Paris, 1983, pp. 147-62 and 207-8.

Reżā Barāhani, Qeṣṣa-nevisi, 4th edition, Tehran 1989, pp. 550-63.

Haideh Daragahi, “The Shaping of the Modern Persian Short Story: Jamalzadeh’s ‘Preface’ to Yiki bud, Yiki Nabud,” The Literary Review 18/1, Fall 1974, pp. 18-37, rep., Thomas M. Ricks, ed. Critical Perspectives on Modern Persian Literature, Washington D.C., 1984, pp. 104-23.

ʿAli Dehbāši, ed. Bargozida-ye Āṯār-e Sayyed Moḥammad-ʿAli Jamālzāda, Tehran, 1989.

Idem, Yād-e Sayyed Moḥammad-ʿAli Jamālzāda, Tehran, 1998.

Mansur Heshmat Moayyad and Paul Sprachman, Mohammad Ali Jamalzada: Once Upon a Time (Yeki Bud Yeki Nabud), New York, 1985.

Idem, ed., Stories from Iran: A Chicago Anthology 1921-1991, Washington, D.C., 1991, p. 32.

Michael C. Hillmann, “ Persian Prose Fiction: An Iranian Mirror and Conscience,” in Ehsan Yarshater, ed., Persian Literature, New York, 1988, pp. 291-317.

Idem, ed., “Major Voices in Contemporary Persian Literature”, in Literature East and West 20, Austin, l976.

Idem, “Once Upon a Time,” Journal of Near Eastern Studies 47/4, October 1988, pp. 311-13.

Moḥammad-ʿAli Jamālzāda, Yeki bud, yeki nabud, Berlin, 1922.

Idem, Šāhkār, 2nd ed., Tehran, 1957. Mohammad Ali Jazayery, “Modern Persian Prose Literature,” Journal of American Oriental Society 90/2, April-June 1970, pp. 257-65.

Hassan Kamshad, Modern Persian Prose Literature, Bethesda, Md., 1996, pp. 91-112.

Mohammad ‘Ali Homa Katouzian, “Iran”, in Modern Literature in the Near and Middle East 1850-1970, ed. Robin Ostle, London and New York, 1991, pp. 130-57.

Idem, Darbāra-ye Jamālzāda va Jamālzāda šenāsi, Tehran, 2003.

Yaakov Mashiah, “Once Upon a Time,” Acta Orientalia 33, 1971, pp. 109-43.

Ḥassan Mirʿābedini, Ṣad sāl dāstān-nevisi dar Irān, 3 vols., Tehran, 1987-98 (Jamalzadeh’s life and work and his significance in the emergence and development of modern Persian fiction are treated extensively in several chapters of the book).

Jamāl Mirṣādeqi,

Reza Navabpour, “The ‘Writer’ and the ‘People’: Jamalzadeh’s Yeki Bud Yeki Nabud: a Recast”, British Journal of Middle Eastern Studies 23/1, 1996, pp. 69-75. Basile Nikitine, “Seyyed Mohammed Ali Djemalzadeh: Pionnier de la Prose Moderne Persane”, in Revue des Études Islamiques, 27, 1959, pp. 23-33.

Iraj Pārsinežād, “Zayn-al-ʿĀbedin Marāḡaʾi: Montaqed-e adabi” Irān- nāma /Iran Nameh 9/3, 1991, pp. 427-40.

Kāmrān Pārsinežād, Naqd o taḥlili-e dāstānhā-ye Sayyed Moḥammad ʿAli Jamālzāda, Tehran, 2002.

Claus V. Pedersen, “Literary Analysis of Five Iranian Authors in the Context of the History of Ideas,” World View in Pre-Revolutionary Iran,” ed., Petra Kappert, Wiesbaden, 2002.

Nasrin Rahimieh, “Manifestation of Diversity and Alterity in the Persian Literary Idiom,” Critical Essays on Persian Literature and Culture in Honor of Peter J. Chelkowski, ed. Mohammad Mehdi Khorrami and M. R. Ghanoonparvar, Costa Mesa, Calif., 2007.

Thomas M. Ricks, ed., Critical Perspectives on Modern Persian Literature, Washington, D.C., 1984.

Paul Sprachman, “Persian Satire, Parody and Burlesque,” in Ehsan Yarshater, ed., Persian Literature, New York, 1988, pp. 226-49.

Idem, “Persian Letters in the Last Fifty Years,” Thomas M. Ricks, ed., Critical Perspectives on Modern Persian Literature, Washington, D.C., 1984, pp. 448-57.

Houra Yavari, “ Ey kāš hama dāstān mi-neveštim,” Šarq, no. 342, 2005, pp. 19-23; repr. Dāstān-e Fārsi va sargoḏašt-e moderniteh dar Irān, Tehran, 2009.

Ḡolām-Ḥosayn Yusofi, “ČARAND PARAND,” Encyclopaedia Iranica IV, pp. 792-95.

(EIr )

Originally Published: February 18, 2011

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YEŊ́HĒ HĀTĄM one of the four major Zoroastrian ritual prayers or mantras.

YEŊ́HĒ HĀTĄM, Yasna 27.15 of the Avesta, one of the four major Zoroastrian ritual prayers or mantras (Av. mąθra). In the extant Avesta, the commentary on Yeŋhē hātąm (hereafter: YH) survives in Yasna 21, which immediately precedes the Gāthās. Y. 21 follows the lengthier exposition of the Yaθā ahū vairiiō (YAV) mantra in Y. 19 and that of Aṣ̌əm vohū (AV) in Y. 20. These three prayers are listed (with two other Yasna formulae) as an anti-daevic remedy in Videvdad 18.43; the three are worshipped in Visperad 1.4 and 2.6, and AV and YH are recited in 21.0. Of the commentaries on these three that existed in the Sasanian Avesta (see Table 1), those belonging to the Bag Nask survive in Y. 19-21.

Function. In the Yasna ritual, recitation of YH is closely linked to that of YAV and AV, which it follows as a doxology, marking the transition from one unit of scripture to the next (see Kotwal and Boyd, p. 155). The Yasna rubrics invoke YH (one recitation) after AV (three recitations) at the conclusion of each chapter (hāiti, Pahl. hā) of the five Gāθās and the Yasna Haptaŋhāiti (Y. 28 through 51, 53) and after the concluding prayers, Y. 54 (Ā airiiə̄mā iš́iiō) and 55. The Srōš Yašt (Y. 57) invokes YH, but preceding AV (57.34; Geldner, I, pp. 204-5). YH also is indicated at the conclusion of various other Yasna chapters (ed. Geldner, Y. 4.26, 7.27, 13.8, 17.19, 18.9, 19.21, 20.5, 21.5, 60.13, 68.24, 70.7; for an outline of the liturgical structure of the Yasna, see Kotwal and Boyd, pp. 155-57; for an example of use, in the context of Y. 4-8, see ibid., pp. 95-96). M. Molé, pointing out that YH is the only mantra that speaks of the yasna sacrifice/worship, attributes to it a key role in enabling ritual to be accomplished correctly and validly (pp. 274, 516). For J. Darmesteter, YH encapsulated the [entire] Yasna ritual; it was “the liturgical formula par excellence” (I, p. 176).

Given its role as a doxology following YAV and AV, YH can similarly accompany these mantras when they are recited apart from the sacrifice, and it similarly follows the devotional prayers of the Khordeh Avesta; it is also embedded within the Mihr Yašt, Y. 10.6, following declaration of sacrificial offerings to Miθra, and in that god’s Nyāyišn, 1.16. YH is not recited alone (Stausberg, III, p. 12; Stewart, p. 68). Perhaps due to this ancillary role, as well as to its ambiguity, the prayer is easily overlooked or treated in cursory fashion. For instance, E. W. West, in his edition of Martin Haug (1878 and 1890, p. 141, n., expanding on 1862, p. 134), suggested translations of YAV and AV, but not of YH. J. J. Modi did translate it (see below), and he noted that “there is hardly a prayer that does not contain [that is, conclude with] this formula” (Modi, p. 349). But, as in the case of the often- mentioned AV, his discussion is brief, compared with the lengthy consideration given YAV. Nevertheless, YH has been revered by Parsis as having great power similar to that of YAV and AV (e.g., see the interview in Kreyenbroek, p. 76).

Origin. Authorship of YH sometimes has been attributed to Zoroaster himself, based on interpretation of the Avesta commentary (Y. 21.1-2; e.g., Gershevitch, p. 9)—that is, as the prophet’s own restatement of the Gathic strophe from which it derives, Y. 51.22 (for both regarded as “consistent with common authorship,” see Gershevitch, p. 64, n.). As such, it would have the same authenticity, as pristine doctrine, as the Gāθās. However, the phrase “worshipful utterance of Zoroaster” (yēsnīm vacō, Y. 21.1) may refer, not to authorship, but only to performance of the liturgy of the sacrifice (Molé, p. 173), in which Zoroaster is priest; he recites the sacred text just as the zōd officiant still does today. The Pahlavi Dēnkard summary of the YH chapter of the Wārštmansr Nask seems to clarify this sense of Y. 21.1 when it describes the context of the prayer and has Zarduxšt respond to Ohrmazd’s command for “words of worship and praise of us, who are the Amahraspands,” saying “I will speak the words of Ohrmazd [gowišn ī ohrmazd] ...” (Dk. 9.27; DkM, II, p. 82). The YH prayer’s origin is seen, at present, as a rephrasing of the Gathic strophe done by a later generation of the Zoroastrian faithful (see Boyce, pp. 262- 63). The text is analyzed as “archaized Younger Avestan” (see Humbach, 2000; idem et al., II, p. 14), rather than as Gathic with Younger Avestan substitutions.

The prayer and its source. The brevity of YH, its phrasing with pronouns, and different analyses of grammatical forms and phrase structure, as well as of Gathic doctrine, have occasioned different interpretations. The same can be said for the predecessor text, the greater part of the Gathic strophe Y. 51.22:

yehiiā mōi aṣ̌āt̰ hacā vahištəm yesnē paitī vaēdā mazdå ahurō yoi åŋharəcā həṇticā tą yazāi ...

“In the worship toward which one [for “which ones”] the best for me according to Truth [Aṣ̌a] the Wise Lord [Ahura Mazdā] knows, [the ones] who both have existed and do exist, them I shall worship ...”

(cf. W. B. Henning, apud Boyce, 1969, pp. 18-19; Humbach and Faiss, p. 158). The text recurs, as yeŋ́ hē mē aṣ̌ āt̰ hacā …, in Y. 15.2 and is repeated twice as a formula in Y. 69.2 (for the liturgical context of the latter, see Kotwal and Kreyenbroek, p. 229; Kotwal and Boyd, p. 125). The ambiguity of this strophe can well be regarded as deliberate (Humbach et al., II, p. 234), and the same point can apply to the mantras (cf. Humbach and Taraporewala, p. 21, n. 1). The reciters of the prayers may have felt several, equally valid, interpretations in the wording of verses 1-2. (For possibilities, see Schmidt, p. 325; Humbach et al., II, p. 235; I, p. 191; for the translation “best (accomplishment) ... (will have fallen) to me” [ibid., I, p. 191], in the context of the mystery of the sacrifice, see ibid., I, pp. 92-94; cf. Kellens and Pirart, I, p. 185). For instance, the concept “recompense/reward” is already present in Y. 51 (mīždəm, 51.15, vaŋuhīm ... ašīm, 51.21) and can be viewed as strongly implied also in 51.22 (vahištəm “the best”) and YH (vaŋhō, lit. “the better”; thus Darmesteter, I, pp. 175-76 ; Nyberg, p. 270; cf. Humbach et al., II, p. 14; Kellens and Pirart, I, p. 185).

The prayer YH, with wording derived from Y. 51.22 but with transposition of the references to “existent beings” and “Truth,” presumably was intended to express the manner in which the Gathic strophe was interpreted at the time of YH composition. Exact correspondence between the two is uncertain, since scholarship lacks the exegetical oral tradition and ritual context that would have existed at the time of the prayers’ earliest use, when Zoroastrian liturgical practice was being developed and codified (cf. Boyce, 1975, p. 263).

yeŋ́ hē hātąm āat̰ yesnē paitī vaŋhō mazdå ahurō vaēθā aṣ̌āt̰ hacā yåŋhąmcā tąscā tåsca yazamaidē

Then in the worship toward which male one of the existent beings, the Wise Lord knows, according to Truth, the better, and toward which female ones, those male ones and those female ones we worship.

(The latter verses also are cited as: mazdå ahurō vaēθā aṣ̌āt̰ hacā yåŋhąmcā / tąscā tåsca yazamaidē. Similar translations are Schmidt, p. 329; Gershevitch, p. 77; Boyce, 1975, p. 262; cf. “the better [accomplishment of them to be displayed] at worship,” Humbach et al., I, p. 116; II, p. 235.) The “existent beings” in YH. The Younger Avesta commentary on YH, in Y. 21.2 identifies the “existent beings” of this prayer as the Aməša Spəntas, of whom the canonical concept was by then clearly defined; in the Yasna Haptaŋhāiti (contemporary with YH?), Y. 39.3, they are “the good male ones, the good female ones.” (On the emergence of the Aməša Spəntas from among the undifferentiated Ahuras, see Humbach et al., II, pp. 13-16. The latter can be equated with “[those] who both have existed and do exist”: cf. Y. 45.7 and, for the Old Persian parallels, Boyce, 1969, p. 18.) This identification is later repeated in the Pahlavi Yasna glosses, for Y. 51.22 and 21.2 (Dhabhar, pp. 228, 107), as well as in the Dēnkard summaries of the nasks of the Avesta.

The words of YH are borrowed in the litanies of the Visperad (Vr. 16.3), directly following worship of the fravaṣ̌is “of the male Truthful ones … of the female Truthful ones” and preceding worship of the waters, earth, and plants: “Whose better the Truthful Wise Lord knows at worship for/by us, of these, Zaraθuštra is both lord (see AHU) and judge (ratu)” (yaēšąm nō ahurō mazdå aṣ̌awa yesnē paiti vaŋhō vaēδa / aēšąm zaraθuštrō aŋhuca ratušca, with nō as an indirect dative, ethical or of interest; or of possession: Malandra; cf. Humbach et al., II, p. 235: “we ... our lord and judge (is) Zaraθuštra”). In the Warštmansr Nask commentary on YH, Ohrmazd similarly urges Zarduxšt to the worship of—besides the Amahraspands— water, plants, fravaṣ̌is, and immaterial [mēnōg] gods (Dk. 9.27.1; DkM, II, p. 823; Molé, p. 517). In a similar vein, Yt. 13.148 rephrases the first two verses of YH: “We also worship the fravaṣ̌is of all those truthful men and women / whose better the truthful Wise Lord knows at worship for/by us” (yaēṣ̌ąm nō ahurō mazdå aṣ̌auua yesne paiti vaŋhō vaēδa; cf. Humbach et al., II, p. 236).

Some scholars (e.g., Nyberg, p. 270; Tavadia, p. 122) have viewed hātąm in YH as specifically meaning living men and women, even at the time of its origin, and present-day renderings are all the more likely to state or imply reference to the living faithful: “The male one among the existing whose very good (recompense) for the sacrifice / the Wise Lord knows in accordance with truth, / and the female ones as well, those male ones and those female ones we celebrate” (Humbach and Faiss, pp. 73-74; see also Humbach and Ichaporia, p. 21, n. 2). This interpretation of YH is in harmony with the increased emphasis in Parsi practice, in the twentieth century, on human morality relative to ritual observances. Thus J. J. Modi (p. 349) rendered YH: “Ahura Mazdā knows who among the living [hātąm] is the best [vaŋhō] in prayer [yesnē paitī] through righteousness [aṣ̌āt̰ hacā]. We praise them whether male or female.” Here, and in other translations, aṣ̌āt̰ hacā is felt to be bound up with hātąm and so is applied to the first verse, whether modifying “the male one,” “the better,” or yesnē (e.g., similar to Modi, “on account of his [i.e., the male one’s] righteousness,” Kotwal and Boyd, p. 15).

Perhaps the person most emphatic in giving the prayer a moral focus was Framroz Rustomjee [1896-1978] (on whom, see Choksy, pp. 202-3), when he translated the mantras freely in his book of devotional prayers to be taught to children. In his view (Part 1, p. 41), Aṣ̌a (here: Righteousness), was the primary motif and bound Yeŋhē hātąm thematically with Yaθā ahū vairiiō and Aṣ̌əm vohū: “from among the living human beings, in every act of devotion or sacrifice, / (whom) All-wise Lord (God) knows or recognizes (as being) more excellent, / by reason of their knowledge of (the) Divine Law of Righteousness and practice of virtues, / we revere all such men and women” (Part 1, p. 3).

In the end, whether YH was, and is, uttered as a cultic formula helping to guarantee the success of ritual sacrifice (cf. Molé, pp. 516- 17; Darmesteter, I, p. 176) or is recited devotionally and felt as an individual moral affirmation, either way, the prayer can be said to orient the speaker toward the same Zoroastrian objective—the governance in the material [gētīg] world, as in the immaterial, of the Wise Lord’s right order, Aṣ̌a.

Bibliography:

Chr. Bartholomae, Die Gāθā’s und heiligen Gebete des altiranischen Volkes, Halle, 1879. p. 66.

Idem, tr., Die Gatha’s des Awesta: Zarathustra’s Verspredigten, Strasburg, 1905, p. 111.

Mary Boyce, “On Mithra’s Part in Zoroastrianism,” BSOAS 32, 1969, pp. 10-34.

Idem, A History of Zoroastrianism I. The Early Period, Leiden, 1975. pp 262-63.

Carlo G. Cereti, The Zand Ī Wahman Yasn. A Zoroastrian Apocalypse, Rome, 1995.

Jamsheed K. Choksy, “Iranians and Indians on the Shores of Serendib (Sri Lanka),” in John Hinnells and Alan Williams, eds., Parsis in India and the Diaspora, London and New York, 2008, pp. 181-210.

J. Darmesteter, Le Zend-Avesta, 3 vols., Paris, 1892-93; repr., 1960.

Ervad Bamanji Nasarvanji Dhabhar, Pahlavi Yasna and Visperad, Bombay, 1949.

[DkM] Dhanjishah Meherjibhai Madan, ed., The Complete Text of the Pahlavi Dinkard, 2 vols., Bombay, 1911.

Ilya Gershevitch, The Avestan Hymn to Mithra, Cambridge, 1959; repr., 1967.

Martin Haug, Essays on the Sacred Language, Writings and Religion of the Parsees, Bombay, 1862; … of the Parsis, 2nd ed. E. W. West, London, 1878; ed. and enlarged E. W. West, London, 1890.

Helmut Humbach, Die Gathas des Zarathustra, 2 vols., Heidelberg, 1959.

Idem, “Gathas i. Texts,” in Encyclopædia Iranica Online, 2000, available at http://www.iranicaonline.org/articles/gathas-i-texts.

Helmut Humbach, in collaboration with Josef Elfenbein and Prods O. Skjærvø, The Gāthās of Zarathushtra and the Other Old Avestan Texts, 2 vols., Heidelberg, 1991.

Helmut Humbach and Pallan Ichaporia, The Heritage of Zarathushtra. A New Translation of his Gāthās, Heidelberg, 1994.

Helmut Humbach and Klauss Faiss, Zarathushtra and his Antagonists, Wiesbaden, 2010.

J. Kellens and E. Pirart, Les textes vieil-avestiques I, Wiesbaden, 1988.

Dastur Firoze M. Kotwal and James W. Boyd, A Persian Offering. The Yasna: a Zoroastrian High Liturgy, Studia Iranica, cahier 8, Paris, 1991.

Dastur Firoze M. Kotwal and Philip G. Kreyenbroek, The Hērbedestān and Nērangestān III. Nērangestān, Fragard 2, Studia Iranica, cahier 30, Paris, 2003.

Philip G. Kreyenbroek, in collaboration with Shehnaz Neville Munshi, Living Zoroastrianism. Urban Parsis Speak about their Religion, Richmond, UK, 2001.

William W. Malandra, “Visperad,” in Encyclopædia Iranica Online, 2013, available at http://www.iranicaonline.org/articles/visperad. Dastoorji N. D. Minochehr-Homji, chanter, Yenghe Hatam, at “Daily Zoroastrian prayers recorded (from the Khorda Avesta),” available at http://avesta.org/mp3/index.html.

H[ormazdyar Dastur] K[ayoji] Mirza, chanter, “Honor to the Worthies,” in Zoroastrian Chants [phonograph record], New York, Sheikh Publications, Inc., 1971, side 1, track 3.

J. J. Modi, The Religious Ceremonies and Customs of the Parsees, 1st ed., Bombay, 1922.

Marijan Molé, Culte, mythe et cosmologie dans l'Iran ancien, Paris, 1985.

H. S. Nyberg, Die Religionen des alten Irans, Leipzig, 1938.

Framroz Rustomjee, Daily Prayers of the Zoroastrians, 2nd ed., Colombo, part 1, 1959; part 2, 1967.

Hanns-Peter Schmidt, “On the Origin and Tradition of the Avestan yeŋ́ hē-hātąm Prayer,” Bulletin of the Deccan College Research Institute 20, 1960, pp. 324-44.

Michael Stausberg, Die Religion Zarathushtras: Geschichte, Gegenwart, Rituale II, Stuttgart, 2002. Sarah Stewart, “Parsi Prayer and Devotional Song in the Indian Diaspora,” in J. R. Hinnells and A. Williams, eds., Parsis in India and in the Diaspora, New York, 2008, pp. 59-77.

Jehangir C. Tavadia, Indo-Iranian Studies 2. The First Three Gathas of Zarathustra and the Four Principal Prayers in Avestan, Santiniketan, 1952, pp. 122-23, 129.

Edward W. West, tr., Pahlavi Texts IV. Contents of the Nasks, Sacred Books of the East XXXVII, Oxford, 1892.

Fritz Wolff, Avesta - Die heiligen Bücher der Parsen, Strassburg, 1910, pp. 53-54.

(Christopher J. Brunner)

Originally Published: April 7, 2015

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YIMA

Avestan name of Jamšid, a mythical king of Iran. See JAMŠID.

JAMŠID

(or Jam), mythical king of Iran; Avestan Yima (Old Indic Yama), with the epithet xšaēta.

JAMŠID (or JAM), mythical king of Iran; Middle Persian Jam, Jamšēd, Avestan Yima (Old Indic Yama), with the epithet xšaēta (Elamite Persepolis tablets Yamak-šedda; Benveniste, 1966, p. 96; Hallock, p. 771; Hinz, p. 273). The common noun, meaning “twin,” is attested once in Old Avestan in the dual (yə̄mā, see below) and in Old Indic from the Rigveda on (singular, dual, plural), and is used to denote one of a pair of twins, twin brothers or sisters, or several individual twins. On the name, see also Mayrhofer, I, no. 406. This entry is divided into two sections.

i. Myth of Jamšid

JAMŠID i. Myth of Jamšid

In the Avesta, he ruled the world in a golden age; he saved living beings from a natural catastrophe by preserving specimens in his var- (fortress); he possessed the most Fortune among mortals, but lost it and his kingship as a consequence of lying.

JAMŠID

i. MYTH OF JAMŠID

In the Avesta (q.v.), several myths are associated with Yima. He ruled the world in a golden age; he saved living beings from a natural catastrophe by preserving specimens in his var- (fortress); he possessed the most Fortune (xᵛarənah-, Mid. Pers. xwarrah) among mortals, but lost it and his kingship as a consequence of lying; and he was “cut” (in half?) by an evil being. The Middle Persian literature has preserved additional myths: Jam and the New Year’s Day festival (Nowruz), Jam and his sister, Jam’s hybris, Jam and Dahāg (New Pers. Żaḥḥāk), and others; the Zoroastrian and Muslim Persian literature contains the stories about Jamšid and Tahmuraṯ and the discovery of the healing property of bull’s urine (gōmēz, q.v., where the story is not mentioned), Jamšid as cultural hero, and others. Among the early Muslim historians, the stories about Jam and Jamšid were popular at all times, from Abu Ḥanifa Dinavari (d. betw. 894- 903, q.v.), Ṭabari (839-923), Abu ʿAli Amirak Balʿami (d. betw. 992- 97, q.v.), etc. to Mirḵᵛānd (1433-98).

The Yima/Jamšid story as known in the West at the time was frequently described by authors who wrote on Iranian religion in the 19th and early 20th centuries (e.g., Stuhr; Windischmann, 1852; idem, 1859; idem, 1863, pp. 19-44; Darmesteter, 1877, pp. 94, 154, 185, etc.; Lindner; Carnoy; Güntert, 1923; Geldner, 1926, pp. 28-31; etc.). Arthur Christensen (q.v., 1918-34, II) collected all sources for Yima and Jamšēd that were known to him, including Vedic, Avestan, Middle Persian, and New Persian Zoroastrian texts, as well as the Muslim historians and miscellaneous others; all the information found in the sources of the Islamic period has been collected by Mahšid Ṣediqiān (on the myths, see also Darmesteter, 1893, II, pp. 19-31, 623-25, with notes; Wesendonk, p. 160 n. 2; on the interpretations of the Yima myths, see Zaehner, 1961, chap. 5; on the sources, Yarshater, pp. 359-66; Boyce, 1975-82, I, pp. 92-96 and n. 54 on literature; Dehḵodā, Loḡat-nāma., ss.v. “Jam” and “Jamšid”; Humbach and Ichaporia, 1998, pp. 103-13 [Av. passages with Pahl. versions]; for early studies on the Indic Yama, see Macdonell, pp. 171-74, for recent thoughts, see Bodewitz, with further references). It has always been recognized that the Yima story and its later elaborations have parallels in both Indic and Mesopotamian (incl. Biblical) mythology, although the significance of these facts has been much disputed. This is also true for the question of Indo-European origins.

Yima xšaēta as solar figure. Yima’s standing epithet xšaēta has received no obviously correct explanation (see Kellens, 1999-2000, p. 727 n. 7). The word is also the epithet of huuar- “sun” (huuar- xšaēta- and huuardxša-ēta-, Mid. Pers. xwaršēd, New Pers. ḵᵛoršid), the heavenly lights, Tištriia, Apąm Napāt (q.v.), and the Life-giving Immortals (aməṧa spəṇtas, q.v.), and the feminine form xšōiθnī (cf. paiti “master,” fem. paθnī) is used with the goddesses Aṧi and Anāhitā (qq.v.), as well as dawn, all of them presumably luminous celestial phenomena. Since Yima is said to be like the sun to look at among men (huuarə.darəsō maṧiiānąm; Yasna 9.4) and his life is immortal and “sun-filled” (xᵛanuuaṇt, Yasna 9.1), xšaēta would seem to refer to the color of the sun (golden or reddish). It could then be the same term that is used to denote the color of horses, as in the proper name šēd-asp (see Benveniste, 1966, pp. 21-22), the name of Jamšid’s grandson (son of Ṭur, see below on Dahāg and the “cutting” of Yima) in the Garšāsb/Garšāsp-nāma (ed. Huart, pp. 90-91).

The Indian Yama and Iranian Yima are both the sons of a solar figure, Old Ind. Vivasvant, Av. Vīuuaŋᵛhant, “the one who shines far and wide” (Gathic genitive Vīuuaŋ-hušō from Vīuuaŋᵛhah-, cf. Old Ind. vi-vas-, present stem vi-uchá-, Av. vī.usa- “light up, shine far and wide”). The Old Indic verb is commonly used of dawn and the Avestan verb in the description of dawn on the third morning after death (θritiiå xšapō vī.usaiti “as the third night turns into bright [dawn]”; Vd. 19.28). Yima possessed the divine Fortune in the highest degree (xᵛarənaŋᵛhastəma) among those born, like Zarathustra and like Miθra, Ahura Mazdā (q.v.), and his Word, among gods (Y. 9.4; Yt. 19.35).

The Muslim authors routinely state that šid means “shine, radiance, some comparing ḵᵛor-šid. Ebn al-Aṯir (I, p. 64) adds that jam means “moon” (cf. Abu’l-Fedā, ed. Fleischer, pp. 66-69, Cairo ed., p. 40: jam-šid means “brightness of the moon” [šoʿāʿ al-qamar] versus ḵᵛor- šid “brightness of the sun” [šoʿāʿ al-šams]).

Friedrich Carl Andreas (q.v.) and Walter B. Henning (q.v.) suggested that the word meant “ruler” (I, p. 15 [187] n. 6: xwar-šēd “sun-lord”; presumably from xšay- “rule”; see Benveniste, 1966, p. 21: “chief”), but the evidence is slim and complicated by Sogdian axšēδ “ruler” (Manichean smān/βaγān axšēδ “ruler of the heavens/ the gods”), also mentioned by Muslim authors as a title of the rulers of Sogdiana (see EḴŠĪD; see also the discussion in Benveniste, 1966, pp. 20-22 with refs; Skjærvø, 1995, p. 205, suggested the word is simply a borrowed Mid. Pers. xšēd).

In the Kushan empire, Yam-šēd achieved divine status and appears as the god Iamšo on coins (see Grenet, pp. 253-58) and in personal names, such as Iamšo-lado “given by Yamšo” (Sims-Williams, 1997- 98, pp. 196-97; idem, 2000, p. 194). François Grenet suggests -šo may be a byform of šao “king” (or could it be an abbreviation for Yam- šēd?). In the coin representations, Iamšo holds a bird, which has been identified as the Avestan Vārəγna (see below on Yima’s sin).

Yima and the heroes of origins. In Yasna 9.1-13, the praise-hymn to Haoma (q.v.), Haoma tells Zarathustra that the births of the four most important human beings in history were gifts given as rewards when their fathers pressed the haoma for the benefit of the world of the living: Vīuuanvhant begot Yima (who made the world immortal); Āθβiia (Mid. Pers. Āspī, New Pers. Ābtin, q.v.) got Θraētaona (Mid. Pers. Frēdōn; see AŽDAHĀ, FERĒDŪN), who overcame and chained Aži Dahāka to Mount Damāvand (q.v.); Θrita of the Sāmas begot Kərəsāspa (New Pers. Garšāsp, see AŽDAHĀ, GARŠĀSP-NĀMA), who will kill Aži Dahāka (New Pers. Żaḥḥāk) at the end of time; and Pourušaspa begot Zarathustra, who will initiate the return to the state of immortality (see Kellens, 2001).

In the Avesta, these heroes are only four in a relatively stable list of hero-sacrificers who sacrifice to various deties in order to be permitted to fulfill specific functions in upholding the cosmic order. The first three in the sequence are Haošiiaŋha (Mid. Pers. Hōšang, New Pers. Hušang), Taxma Urupi (Mid. Pers. Tahmōraf, New Pers. Tahmuraṯ), and Yima, who all three fight evil in their own ways. Yima is followed by Aži Dahāka, the giant dragon who wishes to do evil, but is overcome by Θraētaona. Last in the sequence is a succession of kauuis, which concludes with Kauui Vištāspa, who is associated with Zarathustra. Each of the heroes sacrifices in different locations (see Kellens, 1999-2000, pp. 736-39): Haošiiaŋha on the skirts or top of Mount Harā and Yima from High Hukairiia, the high peak of Mount Harā, via which the Heavenly River comes down at Ahura Mazdā’s request (Yt. 5.3, 85).

In the later tradition, the list has become a chronological sequence of two dynasties. The first is that of the (Mid. Pers.) Pēšdādīs, or Peshdadids, named after Haošiiaŋha’s standing epithet paraδāta “established before (others),” Mid. Pers. pēš-dād, but is expanded to include Gayōmart/d (q.v.) as its first member (Av. Gaiiō Marəta, New Pers. Gayumarṯ, the first to listen to Ahura Mazdā; Yt. 13.87). The second is that of the Kāwīs, or Kayanids, named after the title kauui (Mid. and New Pers. kay), which must originally have referred to poet-sacrificers with special powers (cf. OInd. kaví).

The Avesta does not suggest any family relationships between the heroes, but, in the Middle and New Persian epic tradition, they have become members of royal dynasties, and Jamšid has become Tahmōraf/Tahmuraṯ’s brother (Bundahišn 35.3; brother or brother’s brother, e.g., in Banākati, p. 28). There is also no explicit link between Yima and Aži Dahāka in the Avesta.

In the Middle Persian literature, we find several examples that Jam(šēd) was considered to be linked with Zarathustra (the first and last of the four born as a result of their fathers’ haoma sacrifices). In the Dēnkard (q.v.), Zarathustra is said to be of human lineage (tōhmag) through Jam and of the lineage of the Life-giving Immortals through Nēryōsang (Dk. 7.2.21). Zādspram, remarkably, states that Zarathustra’s lineage connects him back to Ohrmazd himself (Wizīdagīhā 7: abāz-paywandišnīh ī Zardušt ō Ohrmazd, ed. Gignoux and Tafazzoli, pp. 62-63). According to Zādspram, Zarathustra was descended from Nēryōsang through Pōrušasp and from Frēdōn son of Āspīy through Pōrušasp’s mother Wēzag and from Jam through the Āspīyān family (cf. Bundahišn 35.52, on Frēdōn’s descent). Another passage of the Dēnkard, however, appears to say that Zarathustra’s luminosity made him resemble Jam’s lineage (Dk. 5.2.2, ed. Amouzgar and Tafazzoli, pp. 24-25). The Bundahišn (35.8) also records that Pōrušasp was descended from Manuščihr, a tradition found later as well (Ṭabari, I/2, pp. 681-82, tr., IV, p. 77; see the genealogical tables in Justi, pp. 390-93). Yima and the golden age. In Vidēvdād (chap. 2), Zarathustra asks Ahura Mazdā who he spoke with first among mortals, upon which Ahura Mazdā tells Zarathustra the story of Yima. He originally offered Yima the task of carrying (forth) and memorizing (for practicing and proclaiming) his daēnā (i.e., Ahura Mazdā’s thoughts, words, and deeds; see DĒN), which Yima declines (Kellens, 1997-98, p. 760 with n. 39, is overly skeptical about the possibility of establishing the meaning of the verbs). Ahura Mazdā then offers him, as an alternative, the role of protector and furtherer of living beings, which Yima accepts, promising that, as long as he is in command, the world will be perfect, there being no excesses of heat and cold and no sickness or death. Ahura Mazdā then gives him two tools, a cattle goad (aštrā) and a suβrā, either some kind of pick (cf. Pers. sumb- “pierce”) or a shepherd’s flute (cf. nāḷīˊ in RV. 10.1235.7) or horn (Duchesne-Guillemin, 1980; cf. Kellens, 1994-95, p. 702; see Sims- Williams, 2001, with further references).

Although it is not said explicitly, it may have been Yima’s xᵛarənah that enabled him to maintain the world in this state, and one reason that it did not last may have been his refusal to accept the promotion of Ahura Mazdā’s daēnā. Had he done so, then, according to the Pahlavi Dēnkard, by the coming together in him of the royal Fortune (xwarrah ī xwadāyīh) and that of the good dēn, the Foul Spirit would have been destroyed, as he would have been, had Zarathustra also possessed the royal Fortune (Dk. 3.129, tr. Menasce, p. 133). In the Dēnkard (7.1.20), however, it is said that it was by the strength of the paymān (see below) that he maintained the creation immortal, etc.

As described in the Avesta (Vd. 2; Y. 9.4, Yt. 9.9-10, 15.16, 19.32- 33), under Yima’s rule the world prospered and the number of people, cattle, and fires increased, while the daēuuas (see DAIVA, DĒW) were deprived of their desires and *yearning (išti and saokā, which are kept in the moon, Yt. 7.5), their cattle (fšaoni, vąθβa), and their fame (frasasti, Yt. 5.26, 19.32). According to the Bundahišn (18.8-10), Jam achieved this with the help of the three major fires, Ādur Farrōbay (Farnbay), Ādur Gušnasp, and Ādur Burzēnmihr (qq.v.), which Ohrmazd had lit as xwarrahs for the protection of living beings. According to Yašt 9.10, this state lasted 1000 winters, while the total duration described in the Vidēvdād is 3 x 300 winters.

Reasons why humanity was immortal are given in the Middle Persian translation of Yasna 9.1, where people are said to have become immortal by eating the meat Jam offered them, and in a story in the Persian Rivāyats (see below). Some Middle Persian texts specify that “immortality” did not imply “forever,” only a very long time; the Mēnōy ī xrad (61.18) has 300 years and the Pahlavi Vidēvdād (2.41), 150 years.

According to the Middle Persian texts, Ohrmazd/Ahura Mazdā had made Jam, Frēdōn, and Kay-Us immortal (MX. 7.27), but Jam and Kay-Us lost their immortality for their sins (Pahlavi Vd. 2.5). Yima’s immortality and youth (15 years old), which he inherited from his father (Y. 9.5) and passed on to the inhabitants of the golden age, are frequently mentioned in the Avesta. In the Persian Rivāyats it is said that nobody could distinguish father from son (tr. Christensen, 1918- 34, II, p. 69).

The Vidēvdād goes on to tell that, since living beings were eternally young and immortal, after 300 winters the earth became too crowded, and Ahura Mazdā told Yima to use the two tools he had received to expand the earth by one-third its original size. Yima did so three times, after three periods of 300 winters, upon which the earth was presumably twice its original size. The story in Vidēvdād 2 is also in the Dēnkard. Here, Jamšēd is also said to have accepted all four “limbs” (pēšag) of the dēn, the classes of priests, warriors, farmers, and artisans (āsrōnīh ud artēštārīh ud wāstryōšīh ud hutuxšīh; see CLASS SYSTEM i. In the Avesta), by which he made the world prosper (Dk. 7.1.20-24). Afterward, Frēdōn was assigned a share of Jam’s wāstryōšīh (Dk. 7.1.25-27) and Karišāsp a share of his artēštārīh (Dk. 7.1.32). The āsrōnīh, although not said, may have gone to Zarathustra, and Yima may have reserved the hutuxšīh for himself (see below on Yima, culture hero).

Most of the Islamic sources mention his division of society (see below on King Jamšid), but few mention the story of his enlargement of the world. It is reported by Maqdesi, however, according to whom God told Jam to go up on Mount Alborz and, from there, command the earth to expand by 300,000 farsaḵs in circumference (Badʾ III, pp. 140-42, tr. pp. 145-46, tr. Šafiʿi Kadkani, I, p. 501), and by Abu Rayḥān Biruni (q.v.), who ascribes to God himself the action of enlarging the earth three times (Biruni, ed. Sachau, p. 217, tr. p. 202).

According to the Fravardin yašt (q.v.), Yima’s fravaṧi (q.v.) is invoked against natural plagues opposite of the perfect conditions during Yima’s rule (Yt. 13.130: ainišti “lack of obtaining one’s wishes” daēuuō.karštā “dragged forth by the daēuuas”; haēcah auuāstra “watering without grass,” i.e., waterlogged earth[?]; and the iθiiajah maršaonō “the *danger of the maršauuan"[?], in Mid. Pers. explained as sēǰ ī nihān-rawišn “the sēǰ that moves in secret”). According to Manuščihr’s Dādestān ī dēnīg (q.v.), it was Jam’s fravaṧi that kept sēǰ and terror (sahm) away from the creatures (DD. 36.67). In book 7 of the Dēnkard, a part of Jam’s speech to the dēws is preserved, which may be from the above story. Here, Jam eplains to the dēws that Zarathustra will give them back the non-desire (a-xwāhišnīh) they made (cf. Yt. 13.130).

King Jamšid and Nowruz. More elaborate stories are told in the Middle and New Persian tradition about Jamšid as king. According to the Persian Rivāyats (tr. Christensen, 1918-34, II, pp. 60-67), Jamšid was summoned before God himself and given kingship over the world with its insignia: the signet ring, the throne, and the diadem. Returning to earth, he came down from Mount Alborz, and people who looked in that direction are said to have seen two suns, one of which was Jamšēd (cf. Biruni, ed. Sachau, p. 217, tr. p. 202, ed. Aḏkāʾi, p. 268; see below). Instead of this story, the Šāh-nāma explains how he had a throne made for himself, encrusted with jewels (gowhar), which the demons (divs) then lifted up to the sky at his command, and thus the king sat in the middle of the air, shining like the sun, with the whole world gathered to look at him and scattering jewels on him (ed. Mohl, I, p. 52, ed. Khaleghi, I, p. 44; cf. his house on Hariburz, see below on Yima and the vara). According to Abu Manṣur Ṯaʿālebi (p. 13) and Ṭabari (I, p. 180, tr. I, p. 350), Jamšid was thus able to travel from Damāvand to Babylon in one day (cf. Biruni, ed. Sachau, p. 216, tr. p. 111, ed. Aḏkāʾi, p. 266).

A modern version of the story is reported by the Capuchin missionary to Persia and Armenia, Gabriel du Chinon (1668), according to which Gemechid (Jamšid) went into the heaven of the sun every day and brought back the science of the stars, but Chinon ascribed the golden age to Peridon (Ferēdun; Chinon, 1671, pp. 478-79; cf. Darmesteter, 1893, I, p. 13 n. 3). The day on which this took place was the day of Hormoz (the first) of the month of Farvardin, later called the New Day, on which Jamšid gave a party with wine, song, and music. In the Pahlavi Māh ī frawardīn rōz ī xordad, it is stated that it was on the day of Xordad (the 6th), after Jam had made ossuaries and ordered people to do likewise that they made the day a new day and called it New (Year’s) Day (Jamasp-Asana, ed., p. 103; also Persian Rivāyats, tr. Christensen, 1918-34, II, p. 69).

The tradition connecting Nowruz with Jamšid is probably older, as it shows up in a Manichean text, which describes how all the lords of the world would come to Yam on New (Year’s) Day (see below, Yima in Manicheism). Moreover, under the Achaemenids, the New Year’s Day celebration included a procession of rulers of the various provinces of the empire bringing gifts to the king, as depicted in reliefs at Persepolis. The connection with the legend of Jamšid, whether ancient or more recent, is seen in the name of Taḵt-e Jamšid (the Throne of Jamshid) for the palace ruins. Mirḵᵛānd (1959-72, I, p. 519; ed. Kayānfar, II, p. 597) reports that Jamšid moved his residence from Sejestān (Sistān) to Fārs at the beginning of his reign and that he built the palace now called Čehel Menār (i.e., Persepolis), where the day he ascended the throne in celebration was called Nowruz.

In this connection, the Persian Rivāyats, differently from almost all other texts, also describe how Jamšid made humans immortal (tr. Christensen, 1918-34, II, pp. 65-70). Before he proclaimed himself universal monarch on New Year’s Day, at the creator’s command, he went to the Činwad bridge (q.v.), closed the door to Hell, and locked it so that Ahrimen and the divs could not enter, and so no one died during his reign. All this took place on the day of Ḵordād of the month of Farvardin. The myth may well be old, as Jamšid is here acting, like the Achaemenid king, as both supreme secular and supreme religious authority, who bars evil from the world on New Year’s Day, thus rejuvenating the world. Among the Muslim historians, only Biruni has the story, but abbreviated (ed. Sachau, p. 217, tr. p. 202; ed. Aḏkāʾi, pp. 267-68): Because Eblis had stopped the benediction on the Great Nowruz (6 Farvardin), God told Jamšid to go to the land of Eblis and his companions. He was there until he had dealt with the problem, then came back and restored order, upon which he appeared as the sun, and people thought they saw two suns in the sky. He also told people to destroy the ancient temples and to build no new ones on that day. Later, Mirḵᵛānd reported that Jamšid had ordered people to destroy the idols (bothā) on that day (1959-72, I, p. 516; ed. Kayānfar, II, p. 595).

A story that may be related to this is told in Māh ī frawardīn rōz ī xordad (Jamasp-Asana, ed., p. 103). It was on this day that Jam brought the paymānag “right measure” out of Hell, so that it became visible in the world and which, according to the Dēnkard, was needed to make the creation immortal, etc. (Dk. 7.1.20; see below, Jam and the paymān).

Yima as culture hero. In the Pahlavi and later literature, all the early heroes are credited with certain inventions promoting civilization. The only one mentioned in the Avesta is that Ahura Mazdā, in addition to telling him how to build the vara (Vd. 2.25-26), taught Yima how to make and use brick from mud (Vd. 2.31-32), a task that, in the later Persian tradition, King Jamšid is said to have assigned to the divs, who then made all kinds of constructions with brick (Persian Rivāyats, tr. Christensen, 1918-34, II, p. 68). The later tradition, however, ascribes to the rule of Jam most aspects of civilization. For instance, Ebn al-Nadim quotes a source according to which the time of Jam was a time of general civilizing of the world that continued until the reign of Ẓaḥḥāk (ed. Tajaddod, p. 299, tr. pp. 572-73). Mirḵᵛānd even places Pythagoras (Fiṯāḡuraṯ) in attendance on Jamšid at this time (1959-72, I, p. 519).

Among religious practices that Jam(šēd) taught men was the wearing of the kusti. This tradition is reported in the Dādestān ī dēnīg (38.21, 25-26, 30), in the Persian Rivāyats (tr. Dhabhar, p. 24), and in the prose Ṣad dar-e naṯr (pp. 9-10), where the hamāzōr (q.v.) is also ascribed to him. In addition, the metrical Ṣad dar-e naẓm (tr. Christensen, 1918-34, II, pp. 64-65) attributes to him the institution of the seasonal gāhānbār festivals (q.v.; see also Persian Rivāyats, tr. Dhabhar, tr., pp. 323-24), to which Māh ī frawardīn rōz ī xordad (Jamasp-Asana, ed., p. 103) and the Persian Rivayats add the use of ossuaries or daxmas (see CORPSE; tr. Christensen, 1918-34, II, p. 69).

Masʿudi (sec. 1372) also refers to a tradition according to which Jam established the fire cult and taught that the fire was the image of the light of the sun and the stars. This may well be an old tradition, since fires feature prominently among the inhabitants of Yima’s realm (Vd. 2.8, etc.: small and large animals and men, dogs, and birds, and red burning fires), which also brings to mind Vivasvant as the one who sent the sacrificial fire to mankind (RV. 6.8.4, cf. 4.7.4, 8.39.3), while Vīuuaŋᵛhan was the first to perform a haoma sacrifice, as Haoma tells Zarathustra while he is preparing the sacrificial fire (Y. 9.1). Balʿami’s report that Jam, taking the advice of Eblis, threw all those who refused to adore him into the fire might, conceivably, be a version of the same story (1962, p. 132; 2000, p. 89).

According to the Šāh-nāma (ed. Mohl, I, pp. 48-52; ed. Khaleghi, I, pp. 41-43), the Persian Rivāyats (tr. Christensen, 1918-34, II, pp. 66- 68), and the Fārs-nāma (Ebn Balḵi, pp. 30-32), Jamšid also taught men weaving and how to make fabrics (cotton, silk, wool, linen), and clothes and how to wash them; he made weapons and other necessities of warfare, and taught people sowing; and he divided society into the four classes and defined the various tasks of each. He also invented ships built of wood and used them to fetch pearls for jewelry. He extracted precious stones from the rocks and gold and silver from the earth. He invented the use of furs and selected his favorite perfumes and laid out gardens and parks with trees and flowers. Finally, he taught men medicine. According to Ṭabari, Jamšīd charged the divs with producing depilatories, perfumes, and medicines (ed., I, p. 179-81, tr. I, pp. 349-50; see also Faḵr-e Modabber, pp. 7-8, 257-58).

Biruni reports a story told by the mowbed Ādurbād of Baghdad, according to which Jamšid also discovered sugar (ed. Sachau, p. 216, tr. p. 200; ed. Aḏkāʾi, p. 266), and Mirḵᵛānd adds the discovery of wine (1959-72, I, p. 518, ed. Kayānfar, II, pp. 596-97; which in the Jewish tradition was ascribed to Noah, contemporary with Jamšid in the Muslim tradition; see also Christensen, 1918-34, II, p. 123 with n. 1). Ebn al-Nadim reports that Jamšid had imposed corvee on Eblis and that he ordered him to teach him how to write (ed. Flügel, I, p. 12, ed. Tajaddod, p. 15, tr. I, p. 23).

Ḥamza Eṣfahāni (ed. p. 31, tr. pp 19-20), Mojmal al-tawāriḵ (p. 40), and Ḥamd-Allāh Mostawfi (1915-19, I, p. 44, II, tr., p. 50) also report that Jam founded Ctesiphon and made a bridge across the Tigris that was destroyed by Alexander, but the ruins of which could still be seen (see also Ebn al-Aṯir, I, p. 65). According to Mostawfi, he also finished the construction of Eṣṭaḵr (begun by Kayumarṯ and Hušang) and Hamadān, as well as the bridge over the Tigris (1910-13, p. 87; idem, 1915-19, pp. 71, 120, II, pp. 74, 119). Ebn Balḵi (p. 32) reports that he made Eṣṭaḵr his capital, turned it into a metropolis, and had three fortresses, called Seh Gonbadān, built in the city, and Faḵr-al-Din Banākati says that he built Eṣṭaḵr and a big palace there, which at Banākati’s time was called Čehel Menāra (p. 29). The Šahrestānīhā ī Ērān-šahr has a note that “Babylon (Bābēl) was made during the reign of Jam” (ed. Daryaee, pp. 14, 18; on the story of Jamšid’s seven wonders destroyed by Alexander, see Christensen, 1918-34, pp. 77, 164-65; Persian Rivāyats, pp. 436-37).

Ebn Esfandiār tells from the local history of Ṭabarestān that, in ancient days, the area was inhabitable and in the possession of the divs until Jamšid came, who overcame the divs and had them level the mountains and fill in the lakes, drain the fens, etc. (pp. 56-57; tr. Browne, pp. 14-15). Faḵr-e Modabber (p. 185) ranks Jamšid’s horse, a black one according to him, along with Raḵš (the celebrated steed of Rostam) among the best horses of all-time.

Yima and the vara. After the third enlargement of the earth, any further expansion being apparently impossible, Ahura Mazdā and Yima called a meeting of gods and men, respectively, in which it was decided that the population of the earth must be reduced. This was to be achieved by severe winters, one particularly harsh one, followed by flooding when the snow melted. In order that living beings should not perish completely, Ahura Mazdā described for Yima how to make a kind of fortress (Av. vara-, Mid. Pers. war, war ī ǰamkerd), in which to keep samples of all creatures of Ahura Mazdā alive during the winter. He specified the architectural features of the building and explained how to use clay. He also explained about the two kinds of lights in the vara: those established of themselves (xᵛaδāta, probably the eternal lights, cf. Y. 1.16), and those established for the duration of the worlds of thought and/or of living beings (stiδāta). Yima then brought pairs of all living things into the vara, excluding those with bodily defects, and, every forty winters, two children would be born from a human couple.

The Karšipta bird brought the daēnā of Ahura Mazdā into the vara, and its ahu and ratu (i.e., the first new beings and models for subsequent beings?) were Zarathustra and his son Uruuataṱ.nara (Mid. Pers. Urwatadnar; cf. Bdh. 29.6; specifically, Urwatadnar is said to be the ratu of the farmers; Bdh. 35.56).

According to the Middle Persian Mēnōy ī xrad (61.15), the war was underground in Ērān-wēz (q.v.), while, according to the Bundahišn (29.14), it was beneath Mount Čamagān (?) in Pārs. It was lit miraculously, unaffected by summer and winter, and contained all things in the world of the living (Bundahišn 32.7). Jam also had a house on Hariburz (high Harā, Alborz, q.v.), made of diamonds (Bdh. 32.1, 14: *gōhrēn, cf. his crystal throne, see above on King Jamšid) and another in Pārs, called Jamkerd (Bdh. 32.7).

The vara had a further purpose, which is only explained in the post- Avestan texts. Toward the end of the millennium of Ušēdar, the first of Zarathustra’s three eschatological sons, when men and beasts are decimated by the terrible (sahmgen) winter or rain of the sorcerer Malkūs (sēǰ-čihr “of the lineage of sēǰ, Bdh. 33.30), the world is repopulated from the war (Bdh. 33.1, Dādestān ī dēnīg 36.80-81; Dk. 7.1.24, 7.9.3-4; Mēnōy ī xrad 26.24; Pahlavi Rivāyat 48.17; Zand ī Wahman Yasn 9.14).

The term vara (Pahlavi war) has been thought to refer to some kind of enclosure (related to English wall from Latin vallum), or, more precisely, a cavern (Geldner, 1926, p. 30, cited by Hauschild, p. 25 n. 40; Gershevitch, 1974, pp. 66-69; Kellens, 1999-2000, p. 732). It is the same word as Old Indic valá, which Indra breaks or splits open to free the imprisoned cows. According to Johannes Hertel, the term refers to the celestial vault; see Keith’s critique (pp. 621-23). In the Pahlavi Rivāyat, war is explained as “lake” (Pahlavi Rivāyat 8e), but Mid. Pers. war “lake” is from Avestan vairi, a different word. A similar connection, however, appears to have been made in the description of Pahlavi Mount Hugar (= Hukairiia, where Yima sacrificed, see above on Yima and the heroes of origins) in the Bundahišn, where the springs and canals of Ardwīsūr are described (Bdh. 10.5-6). Here, one canal (nāwīčag) is said to go up on high Hugar, where there is a lake (war), into which the water pours and is purified. The direct connection is with the Avestan description of Arəduuī Sūrā, who has 1000 vairis (e.g., Y. 65.4 = Yt. 5.4; see ANĀHĪD), but, in the Bundahišn, Hukairiia’s epithets “containing all poems, golden” (vīspō.vahma zaranaēna; Yt. 5.96, 12.24, 15.15) are rendered as “containing all sūrags, golden” (hamag-sūrag zarrēn), which appears to be influenced by Vidēvdād 2.6 “golden pick” (suβrąm zaranaēnīm), Mid. Pers. “containing holes, golden” (sūrāgōmand ī zarrēn; in the Yasna, vahma is usually rendered by niyāyišn “song”).

Yima and the divine Fortune (xᵛarənah-). Yašt 19, the Zamyād yašt, is devoted to a myth of the xᵛarənah that is not at all understood, but involves three kinds of xᵛarənah (cf. Y. 1.14): that of the Aryans (airiianəm xᵛarənō), the *unseizable xᵛarənah (axᵛarətəm xᵛarənō), and that of the kauuis (kauuaēm xᵛarənō). The exact meaning of the word and its precise mythical reference are also not known, except that it appears to possess some luminous quality. It is associated with išti “desire,” both in the Gāθās (Y. 51.18 ištōiš xᵛarənå “the xᵛarənahs of [his] išti) and later (Yt. 18.1 airiianəm xᵛarənō pouru.vąθβəm *pouru.ištim), which occurs frequently in the Yima myth (see above on Yima and the golden age). Middle Persian Yasna 9.4, where Yima is said to possess the most xᵛarənah among those born, has the commentary: xwarrah is partly one’s duty (xwēškārīh), partly in a man’s body, and that in Jam’s body; according to Yt. 17.22, it was placed in Zarathustra’s body (see also Bdh. 14.7-10, 18.16). The xᵛarənah is associated with water (Yt. 8.34 aβždātəm xᵛarənō “the xᵛarənah placed in the water”), specifically the heavenly ocean (the Vourukaṧa Sea: the axᵛarətem xᵛarənō, Yt.19.45-53); it is distributed over the earth by the gods (yazatas) when the sun shines (Niyāyišn 1.11) and by the Life-giving Immortals when the moon shines (Niyāyišn 3.5); and it is associated with the mountains and their births (Y. 1.14, Yt. 18 and beginning of Yt. 19; Persian Rivāyats 46.5, see Skjærvø, 1994, p. 218 n. 29a).

Yima’s sin and loss of the divine Fortune. As ruler of the world, Yima was endowed with the divine Fortune of the kauuis. According to the Avesta, the Fortune left him, however, on account of a particular sin, and, according to the later sources, he had to relinquish his throne and go into exile. Being no longer immortal, he was killed by being cut apart.

In the Gāθās (see GATHAS), Yima is mentioned once only (Y. 32.8, see below on the Gathic myth): “Yima, in particular, has been renowned (as guilty) of these sins.” This statement is followed by a text that has been much discussed, although its exact meaning still escapes us, but, which, in the Pahlavi tradition, is said to mean that Yima taught people to eat meat.

In Yašt 19.30-34, the wanderings of the Fortune of the kauuis are described and, in particular, how it left Yima in the shape of the Vārəγna bird when he uttered a “deceiving word” (draogəm vācim). The passage contains further details about the actual lie, but the text has not yet been satisfactorily eplained (see Kellens, 1999-2000, p. 727). It appears that someone, referred to as “this one” (aēm), caused Yima to desire (? cinmāne) something that was not real and true (aŋhaiθiia = a-haiθiia). The context provides no reference for “this one,” but, not mentioned by name, he could be the great seducer, the Evil Spirit (Aŋra Maniiu, New Pers. Ahrimen, q.v.) himself, who wanted Yima’s Fortune (Yt. 19.46). The word cinmāne is derived from can- “desire” by Eric V. Pirart (p. 46; Hintze, pp. 189-90, Humbach and Ichaporia, 1998, p. 110); earlier interpretations include “assembly place” (Windischmann, 1863, p. 28: possible connection with the Činwad bridge), infinitive “to think” (Bartholomae, AirWb., col. 596), and “in (his) mind” (Lommel, p. 179). With a-haiθiia, cf. also Darius’s assertion (Bisotun 4.44-45) that his statements about his deeds are “true” (hašiya = Av. haiθiia), not “said to deceive” (naiy duruxtam, cf. draogəm vācim), which would imply that, if he knew the Yima story, Darius disavowed the fault of his mythical prototype.

According to the Zamyād yašt, the Fortune left Yima three times and was seized by Miθra, who possessed the most Fortune among gods; the son of Āθβiia (i.e., Θraētaona), the most valorous of all (except Zarathustra); and Kərəsāspa, the strongest of all (except Zarathustra). Here, we have again the four sons of Yasna 9. According to a later Persian version, when God had taken the light from Jamšid, he gave one-third to Mehr, one-third to Zarathustra, and one-third to Zarathustra’s three eschatological sons, Ušēdar, Ušēdarmāh, and Sōšāns (Bartholomae, 1915, p. 88; Christensen, 1918-34, II, p. 76). Friedrich Windischmann (1863, p. 28) had suggested that the three Fortunes represented the three fires of the Sasanian ritual, which, according to the Bundahišn had been lit as three xwarrahs for the protection of living beings (Bdh. 18.8, see, above, Yima ruler of the golden age; also Darmesteter, 1883, II, pp. 615-16).

Yima’s lie is mentioned only once in Yašt 19, before the description of the three departures of the Fortune, and it is not clear whether it left each time on account of a new lie (as assumed by Christensen, 1918-34, II, pp. 52-54; Kellens, 1997-1998, p. 746, 1999-2000, p. 727), whether it departed three times (thus Christensen, 1931, p. 103; Humbach and Ichaporia, 1998; also Kellens, 1997-1998, p. 746), or whether it departed in three portions (thus Bartholomae, AirWb., col. 964; Pirart, 1992). Almut Hintze proposes that the text simply stresses the finality of the departure of the Fortune (pp. 197-98; see also Kellens, 1997-1998, on the whole myth in Yašt 19). The suggestion that the triple departure is related to the triple enlargement of the earth (Panaino, p. 70) has no basis in the texts and explains nothing (see Kellens, 1997-1998, p. 746; less negative: Kellens, 1999-2000, p. 731). What happened after this is also unclear because of difficulties in the Avestan text (Yt. 19. 34): Yima “erred” (? brāsa-), “devoid of happiness” (a-š´āiti) and despondent, and, “stunned” (starəta), he “lay down” (? ni-dāra-) upon the earth.

The length of Jamšid’s life and reign varies in the sources. For instance, according to the Bundahišn, he lived 616 years and six months before the Fortune left him, then spent a hundred years in exile (wirēg; Bdh. 36.5); according to the Mid. Pers. Aogəmadāecā, he kept the world immortal for 616 years, 6 months, and 13 (or 16) days (Aog. 95); and, according to the Pazand Ayādgār ī Zāmāspīg (q.v.), he ruled for 717 years, 7 months, and then went away with Jamī (ed. Messina, pp. 40-42). In Ẓahir-al-Din Marʿaši’s Tāriḵ-e Ṭabarestān (p. 107), Jamšid’s reign is said to have lasted 1000 years, which may reflect the old tradition seen in Yašt 9.10 (see above on Yima and the golden age).

According to the Pahlavi Rivāyat (31, cf. Dādestān ī dēnīg 38.19-21), Jam’s sin was to have refused Ohrmazd’s offer of the dēn (also Persian Rivāyats 47.8) and done the bidding of Ahrimen and the dēws, and his lie was to have proclaimed himself creator of the world. For this sin, he was confined to Hell. When Zarathustra questioned him about the worst sinner, Ohrmazd summoned the soul of Jam and showed it to him. Jam had done some good things, however, among them the best was to have prevented men from killing good animals in return for getting the elephant from the dēws (also MX. 26.33a; see Shaked, 1987b, p. 243 n. 15, with refs.). Fighting with the dēws, he also made them mortal, so they could be punished. At this, the soul of Jam repented and told Zarathustra not to listen to the dēws, but to accept the dēn. For this it was forgiven and was allowed to go to the hamēstagān (q.v.; the place of those whose good and evil deeds were of equal weight), where he became the ruler (for later versions of this story, see Christensen, 1918-34, II, p. 76).

The motive of Yima’s hybris continues into the post-Sasanian literature, for instance, the Šāh-nāma and the Fārs-nāma, according to which he assembled the nobles, mowbeds, and the leaders of the army and told them that the world was his and that he had discovered all its properties, concluding with a call for them to hail him as the maker of the world (ed. Mohl, I, pp. 52-54; ed. Khaleghi, I, p. 45; cf. Ebn al-Balḵi, p. 33, “all people and divs”). In one Persian Rivāyat, Jamšid’s hybris is attributed to Ahrimen, who managed to exit from Hell after being confined for seventy years, went to Jamšid, and somehow made him demented, causing him to proclaim himself creator of the world. Having lost his divine Fortune, Jamšid was deposed by Żaḥḥāk and took to the mountains and deserts (tr. Dhabhar, pp. 581-82; tr. Christensen, 1918-34, II, pp. 69-70; cf. Ebn Balḵi, ibid.). According to Balʿami (ed. Bahār, 1962, p. 132, ed. Gonābādi, p. 89), Jamšid was at Damāvand when Bivarasp (Dahāg) came looking for him.

Similarly, according to Balʿami, it was the devil himself who deceived Jamšid into believing that he was the creator of the world. After this, Jamšid required people to adore him as God and arranged to have images of himself adored as those of God; and whoever did not believe in him was thrown into the fire. He also reports that, once Jamšid had organized society into four classes, he asked those of the first class what to do in order not to lose his throne. He was told that he should be just, and so Jamšid began practicing justice (Balʿami, 1962, pp. 130-32). A modernized version is found in Ebn Meskuya/Meskawayh, who attributes Jamšid’s fall to pride and tyrannical behavior and his preferring sensual pleasures to governing (ed. Caetani, I, pp. 8-10, ed. Emāmi, p. 7).

The motif of transferring worship from God as creator to another is also found in the story of Mašī and Mašyānī, who first worshiped Ohrmazd as the creator, then Ahriman, thereby committing the sin of uttering a lie (drō-gōwišnīh), which sent them to hell (Bdh. 14.11-16).

Jam, Tahmuraṯ, and gōmēz. The Persian Rivāyats and a few other Zoroastrian Persian manuscripts contain a story explaining the origin of the beneficent effect of bull’s urine (gōmēz, q.v., where the story in not mentioned; see also Christensen, 1918-34, I, pp. 184-89, and König, forthcoming, for all details of this story and further references). The story continues an old story alluded to in the Avesta, which included the detail that Taxma Urupi had ridden the Evil Spirit turned into a horse around the world for thirty years (Yt. 15.12, 19.29). According to the later story, Ahriman then thought of a ruse to get rid of Tahmuraṯ and swallowed him. Eventually, Jamšid was able to recapture his dead brother from Ahriman’s belly by attracting him with a song and an offer to sodomize him (which Soruš told Jamšid were the two things the demon loved the most), and, when Ahriman turned around, Jamšid reached in and pulled Tahmuraṯ out. As a result, however, his hand caught leprosy (baraṣ) and driness (qaḥal), which made people avoid him because of the foul smell the illness caused. Jamšid therefore took to the mountains, erring like a madman and complaining to God. Exhausted, he fell asleep near a herd of cattle, and a cow/bull happened to urinate on his hand, which was immediately healed. Père Gabriel du Chinon summarizes the story without specifying the names (pp. 457-58).

Yima’s sisters and Θraētaona. Θraētaona’s regular request to the deities to whom he sacrificed was to overcome Aži Dahāka and to carry off the two most beautiful women in the world, Saŋhauuācī and Arənauuācī “she who speaks solemn announcements” and “she who speaks faults” (Yt. 5.34, 9.14, 15.24; see Hoffmann, 1954, for the correct analysis of the text, and Mayrhofer, nos. 24, 275 for the names). In the later tradition, they are Jamshid’s sisters (Šahrnāz and Arnvāz), captured by Dahāg and liberated and married by Ferēdun (Šāh-nāma, ed. Mohl, I, pp. 98-102; ed. Khaleghi, I, pp. 75-78; Mojmal al-tawāriḵ, p. 27).

Jam and the paymān. Typical of Yima/Jamšid’s rule was lack of excess, either too much or too little. This state of “right measure” (paymān) is characteristic of Zoroastrian ethics and is discussed at length in the Middle Persian texts, where it is associated in particular with Jam. In the Dēnkard, for instance, it is said that it was by the strength (ōz) of the paymān that Jam maintained the creation immortal, etc. (Dk. 7.1.20). Once the paymān was lost, immortality also became impossible. In two discussions about paymān and frāybūd and aibībūd “too much and too little” in book 3 of the Dēnkard, a myth is reported that people in Jam’s perfect world were seduced by the dēws and perverted to the extent that they could no longer be immortal. Jam convoked the dēws and asked them who created the world, to which they answered that they created it and would now destroy it. Jam pointed out that it is not possible to be both creator and destroyer, and the lie of the dēws was thus revealed and destroyed, ensuring the immortality of humans (Dk. 3.227, tr. Menasce, pp. 239-40, 281-83). According to this story, the āsn(ō)xrad (the wisdom one is born with) had been stolen (appurd) by the dēws, but brought back to mankind together with the paymān by Jam, who spent thirteen winters in Hell in the shape of a dēw, thereby overcoming the dēws and returning to mankind their “desire and profit” (har dō īšt ud sūd; Dk. 3.286, tr. Zaehner, 1955, pp. 250-51; tr. Menasce, pp. 281-83). In a list of benefits from Jamšēd in the Mēnōy ī xrad (26.33), the third benefit was that “he brought the paymān of the world of the living out of the belly of the evil one (druwand) who had swallowed it” (on the two stories, see Windischmann, 1863, pp. 202-3; Zaehner, 1955, pp. 250-52; Shaked, 1987; König, forthcoming).

The story appears to be connected with an exegesis of Yasna 32.9 apō mā īštīm [apa]iiaṇtā “he robs me of my desire,” whose Pahlavi rendering is not clear, but apaiiaṇtā is rendered by appurd “stole,” and īštīm is explained by paymān; išti, however, was what Yima had taken from the daēuuas (see above Yima and the golden age). Moreover, Mid. Pers. paymān is routinely used to render words in ma- or mā-, including mā/ăiiā (Y. 10.12, 33.9, 43.2, the paymān of Wahman), which the exegetes can have linked with maiiah “(sexual) pleasure,” which was praticed by the daēuuas before Zarathustra drove them underground (Yt. 19.80; the Mid. Pers. version in Dk. 7.4.44 has māyišn “sexual pleasure,” not paymān).

Yima, the dead, and Hell. Yima’s connection with the dead is mainly restricted to late narratives, in which he ordered the making of ossuaries and daxmas (see above on King Jamšid and Yima as culture hero). There are three references in the narratives above to Yima going to Hell: for his sins, in order to close the door to Hell so that death would be kept out, and in order to bring the paymān(ag) out of Hell. In addition, Mary Boyce has suggested that Herodotus’ mention (7.114) of a god dwelling underground and ruling over spirits that did not make it to paradise might refer to Yima, since his Indic counterpart Yama was “lord of death” (Boyce, 1975-82, I, pp. 83-84). The description would fit the story of Jamšēd in the hamēstagān better, but it also involves burying people (children) alive to this god (which Boyce does not mention), and so is perhaps more likely to refer to the Evil Spirit. Sacrifice of young people is otherwise associated with Dahāg, who needed them as food for the snakes that grew out of his shoulders (see AŽDAHĀ).

In later Indic, for instance, Buddhist, literature, Yama is the ruler of the underworld, the frightening lord of death. In the Sanskrit translations of the Avesta, he is equated with Astō.vīδātu, Astwihād (q.v.; e.g., Aogəma-daēca, p. 107).

The myths of the Indo-Iranian inhabitants of Nuristān (q.v., formerly Kafirestān) and Dardestān contain a figure Im-rō (Imra), known since the 1890s and identified with the Indic King Yama (yama rāja), king of the dead (see Parkes, with literature).

The “cutting” of Yima. In Yašt 19.46, a story about the contest between the two Spirits (maniiu) over the axᵛarəta xᵛarəna “the unseizable (?) Fortune,” both send emissaries (ašta). Those of the Beneficent Spirit were Good Thought (see BAHMAN), Best Order (see ARDWAHIŠT), and the fire (see ĀTAŠ), son of Ahura Mazdā; those of the Evil Spirit were Bad Thought (see AKŌMAN), Wrath with the bloody club (see AĒŠMA), Aži Dahāka, and Spitiiura, the Yima- cutter (spitiiurəmca yimō.kərəṇtəm). The Avesta contains no other reference to this event, but the Middle Persian texts refer to it in various ways, although the details of it had, apparently, been long forgotten. According to the Bundahišn (35.3), Jam, Tahmōraf, Spitūr, and Narseh were all brothers, and Dahāg and Spitūr collaborated on cutting Jam apart (kirrēnīd; Bdh. 35.5; on the use of this verb, see also Lincoln, 1997). Elsewhere, Jam is said to have been cut apart by the dēws at the end of the first millennium of the world of the living (Bdh. 33.1) but, when he was cut apart, the Farrōbay fire, which he had enthroned on Mount Xwarrahōmand in Xwārazm, saved him from Dahāg (Bdh. 18.9-10).

In the Pahlavi Rivāyat, the cutting is presented as the result of Jam’s refusal to promote Ohrmazd’s dēn. Instead of accepting, Jam despised (tar menīd) Ohrmazd, confident that he could not die (thinking: “Astwihād will not come to me”), and he was then cut apart by dēws and men (PR. 47.8). In the Sūdgar nask commentary on the Vohuxšaθrā Gāθā (Y. 51) in the Dēnkard (Dk. 9.21.2-10; Vevaina, 2007, pp. 297-99, 303-4), people complain to Dahāg that the world has become corrupted after the cutting up of Jam, and all the good things of Jam’s rule have been replaced by bad things. They go on to point out that (different from Jam), Dahāg is subject to death. In turn, Ohrmazd warns Frēdōn not to cut up Dahāg so that the world does not become full of the harmful animals emerging from his body. In this version of the myth, one of the consequences of the cutting of Jam was also the “mingling of dēws with people” (Dk. 9.21.2), a theme seen in the Avesta in the Zarathustra myth. Before Zarathustra, the daēuuas walked on earth in the shapes of men and would abduct human women and have their way with them publicly, but Zarathustra sent them underground, depriving them of their desires (e.g., Yt. 19.80, see above on Yima and the golden age). This activity is specifically assigned to the reign of Dahāg in the Bundahišn (14B.2), where Dahāg is said to have watched copulation between humans and dēws.

The Persian tradition provides a few further details of this story. In the Šāh-nāma, after a hundred years of hiding, Jamšid appeared one day in Čin on the shore of the ocean (cf. Ṯaʿālebi, p. 16, “on some shore,”). Here Żaḥḥāk found him and sawed him apart (ed. Mohl, I, p. 64; ed. Khaleghi, I, p. 52). According to the Fārs-nāma and a poem on Jamšid among the Persian Rivāyats, he was killed in China, in a forest, where he had hidden inside a tree according to the Rivāyat, by the ocean according to the Fārs-nāma (Persian Rivāyats, p. 581; Ebn Balḵi, p. 34; see Christensen, 1918-34, II, pp. 73-75, on this motif, also in Mirḵᵛānd, 1959-72, I, pp. 526-27, ed. Kayānfar, II, pp. 605-6). Satan then told Bivarasp (Żoḥḥāk) where Jamšid was hidden, and he began sawing the tree. When he sawed through Jamšid’s body, the sun disappeared, but when they returned the next day, he was again whole. This happened once more before they were able to kill him. There then follows the story of how Jamšid was sent to Hell, but repented, and was sent to hamēstagān, where he remained for a thousand years before being admitted into Garōdmān (q.v.).

Additional details include the following: The saw had a thousand edges (hazār-tēγ, Ayādgār ī Zāmāspīg, p. 42); it was or resembled a fish bone (Mojmal al-tawāriḵ, p. 40; Ebn Balḵi, p. 34; Mirḵᵛānd, 1959- 72, I, p. 526, ed. Kayānfar, II, p. 604). Spitur was Jamšid’s brother (cf. Bundahišn, see above), who rebelled and made an attempt on his life, causing him to go into hiding (Ṭabari, ed. I, p. 181, tr. I, p. 350; Ebn al-Balḵi, pp. 33-34). Bivarasp tore out his intestines and swallowed them before sawing him (Ṭabari, ibid.). Dahāg threw him to wild beasts, which tore him apart (Ṯaʿālebi, p. 16). He was burnt at Babylon so that no trace of him remained (Mojmal al-tawāriḵ, pp. 40, 462).

Asadi Ṭusi’s Garšāsp-nāma (qq.v.) contains a long elaboration on the conflict with Dahāg and Jamšid’s time in hiding, which is also found in the Mojmal al-tawāriḵ. Having escaped from a terrific man-to-man fight with Dahāg, Jamšid came to Zābolestān, where he stayed for twenty years. There, the king’s daughter tricked him into marrying her (ed. Huart, pp. 54-71, ed. Yaḡmāʾi, pp. 22-38). The princess bore the son Ṯur (ancestor of Rostam, according to Mojmal al-tawāriḵ, p. 25; Tur, in Asadi, p. 42, v. 4). The son, however, looked so much like his father that he generated suspicion that Jamšid himself was there, and the king therefore advised him to leave (Asadi, ed. Huart, pp. 86-87; ed. Yaḡmāʾi, p. 43). He traveled to India (where he ruled a hundred years according to Mojmal al-tawāriḵ), and on to China, where he was killed (Asadi, ed. Huart, pp. 88-89, ed. Yaḡmāʾi, p. 43, v. 22; Šāh-nāma, ed. Macan, pp. 2125-27; Mojmal al-tawārikò, pp. 39-40). The Mojmal al-tawāriḵ (p. 25) gives the name of the princess as Paričehra, as well as that of another wife as Māhang, daughter of the king of Māčin, with whom he had two sons, Batuʾāl and Homāyun, who was Ābtin’s father. According to Tāriḵ-e Sistān (p. 2, tr. Gold, p. 1), Sistan (Sejestān) was founded by Garšāsp (also Mirḵᵛānd), descendant of Tur, son of Jamšid, etc., while Mirḵᵛānd has Jamšid as ancestor of both Garšāsp and Rostam (1959-72, I, pp. 526-27, ed. Kayānfar, II, pp. 605-6, tr. p. 118).

A passage in the Dēnkard suggests a completely different meaning of the allusion to “cutting.” In the Sūdgar nask exegesis of the Vohuxšaθrā Gāθā (Dk. 9.21.5), Dahāg’s mother, Ōdag (see Jackson, p. 92; AŽDAHĀ), is alluded to as having harmed Jamšēd’s genitals (kēr ud gund), making him a eunuch (šābestān) and depriving him of offspring (bē az ābusīh) and making him exposed to sēǰ (a-bē-kerd- sēǰ), for which there was no remedy, so that nothing grew from his body and no lineage (paywand) went from him (Vevaina, pp. 298, 304; Skjærvø, 2008, p. 540). If this refers to the “cutting,” we have a myth very different from those that ascribed to him and his twin sister offspring (see below).

Jam and Jamī (Jamag). In the Rigveda, Yama has a twin sister Yamī, while, in Iran, only Pahlavi Jam has a twin sister Jamī (Jamag). The form Jam-ī for Av. *Yam-ī is formed like Pah. ahurān-ī (spelled with -ydy) for Av. ahurān-ī (Y. 66.1) and Jam-ag is formed like Rudāb-a, etc.

According to the Pāzand Ayādgār ī Zāmāspīg, Wīwanghān had a pair of twins, Jam and Jamī, and Jam took Jamī with him when he went into exile (see above on Yima’s sin; also the Persian Rivāyats, tr. Dhabhar, pp. 580-81). Similarly, according to the Pahlavi Rivāyat (8e), after the loss of his kingship, Jam and his sister Jamag went into the war in order to escape from humans and dēws. When he was nowhere to be found in the world or in Hell, Ahriman suggested he might be in the war, and a dēw and a parīg (a male and female demon) went looking for him. They presented themselves to Jam and Jamag as fleeing from the dēws and suggested the four of them be united in marriage, which they were. In the Bundahišn (14B1) the background story is omitted and it is only said that, out of fear for the dēws, Jam took a female dēw as his wife and gave Jamī to a male dēw. According to both accounts, it was from these unions that monkeys, bears, and other harmful creatures were born (including the Gandarw, Pahlavi Rivāyat (8e9), Żoḥḥāk’s evil counselor Kandrow in the Šāh-nāma, ed. Khaleghi, I, p. 78). Interestingly, Zādspram has a parallel story about Manuščihr and his otherwise unknown sister Manušag, who has the daughter (?) Koxred (Av. kaxᵛarəiδī, a kind of sorceress) with Wrath (hešm) (Zātspram 9.1, ed. Gignoux and Tafazzoli, pp. 64-65; see also Christensen, 1916-34, I, p. 68).

The Pahlavi Rivāyat goes on to tell the story of how, one time Jam and the dēw were on a drinking spree, Jamag switched clothes with the parīg and took her drunken brother to bed, thus performing xwēdōdah (next-of-kin marriage), by the virtue of which the two demons fell back into Hell. The Bundahišn also reports that Jam and Jamag had twins, a man named Āspī(g)ān and a woman named *Zrēšom, who married and so continued the lineage (Bdh. 35.4). The story is reminiscent of the story of Lot and his daughters, who have intercourse with him when he is drunk, in order to continue the family (Genesis 19:31-38).

A later version of this story, perhaps influenced by the story of Yima’s sisters, is reported by Ebn Meskawayh, according to whom Jamšid had married his sister to a relative, whom he then made king of Yemen, and she gave birth to Dahāg (ed. Caetani, I, p. 11, ed. Emāmi, p. 8). Biruni, too, mentions that Bivarasp was the son of Jamšid’s sister (ed. Sachau, pp. 217-18, ed. Aḏkāʾi, p. 268, tr. p. 202).

Jam’s twin sister shows up only in the Pahlavi books and later, but it has been speculated whether this part of the myth is related to the “twins” (yəˊmā) of Yasna 30.3 “who have ben renowned as the twin ‘sleeps’.” Since the “twins” in this passage are the two “spirits” (maniius), any direct connection with Yima seems to be excluded, although an indirect allusion (typical of the style of the Gāθās) can not be ruled out, but discussions have produced nothing convincing (cf. Duchesne-Guillemin, 1962, p. 209). Wolfgang Lentz (1962, pp. 133), for instance, suggested that the passage meant “the twins (Yima and his sister), who have become known by their sleep(ing together),” for which Helmut Humbach (1974, p. 200) suggested “who, because of Yima, have become renowned as the two (kinds of) sleep(ing together),” that is, with the dēw and the parīg. It is unlikely that the passage in its context has this literal meaning (cf. Skjærvø, 1997, p. 111; idem, 2008), but it is not impossible that the poets expected the listener to make these connections if the myths existed at the time. The “cutting apart” of Yima, although reminiscent of Plato’s myth in the Symposium (XIV-XV, 189e-191d), that the primordial androgynes were cut in two to produce men and women, also leads to no futher insight on the matter of the twins. The same is true if the “cutting” was castration, which brings to mind the myth of Uranus and Cronus, where Cronus castrates his father with a sickle with jagged teeth (Hesiod, Theogony 178-82; see also Lincoln, 1981b). On the other hand, the story of the incest connects the Iranian myth with the Old Indic myth, in which Yamī tries to seduce here brother.

Yam in Manicheism. The Manichean Book of Giants contains two Sogdian fragments of a story about Yam, one in which Yam is presented with five diadems, which he accepts, and one in which he is described as lord of the world, before whom all the lords of the world would assemble on New Year’s Day (Sogd. nawí m[ēθ] = now ruz; Henning, 1943, p. 74, who read nwy m[ʾx ?]; see Skjærvø, 1995, p. 204; the term is found in a Manichean letter with New Year’s greetings, Yoshida, 2000, p. 147, line 70), all of which echoes closely Ferdousi’s account of the beginning of Jamšid’s reign (ed. Mohl, I, p. 48; ed. Khaleghi, I, p. 41). Prods O. Skjærvø (1995) has argued that numerous features of the mythical Yima, Jam(šēd) agree with those of the Manichean Rex Honoris, the second son of the five sons of the Living Spirit, who sits on a throne in the seventh heaven, is the ruler (smān-xšēδ) of all ten heavens, and watches over the heavens and the earths, and further with the description of God in 1 Enoch 14:18, who sits on a throne of crystal with wheels like the shining sun, recalling the description of Jamšid’s throne as a glass chariot. The Rex Honoris is also in charge of a wheel that is like a big mirror and allows him to see everything (Kephalaia 88.30-33, tr. Gardner, p. 92), which is reminiscent of Jamšid’s Cup (see ii, below), which allows him to see everything that goes on in the entire world. According to 1 Enoch 7-8, the 200 angels, led by Semyaz, taught people medicine, decorations, ornamentation, etc., crafts that, according to the Sogdian fragment, the 200 δēws had seen in the heavens among the gods, etc. This may indicate that Mani correlated the Iranian mythical characters with his own in his narrative of the origins of the world in his book Pragmateia, deeds of heroes.

Jam in the medieval chronography. The Arab historians, who, following earlier traditions, try to establish synchronisms between the Iranian and Biblical legends, place Jam variously. Ebn Qotayba (q.v.; ed. Wüstenfeld, p. 320; ed. ʿOkāša, p. 652) makes him the Persian Solomon, a tradition also reported by Dinavari (ed. Guirgass, p. 9, ed. ʿĀmer and Šayyāl, p. 6), Maqdesi (text III, pp. 46, 106, tr. pp. 48, 109, tr. Šafiʿi Kadkani, I, pp. 438, 474), Ebn Hawqal (p. 278, tr. p. 273), and Ṯaʿālebi (p. 10). Maqdesi also points out that the Persians assign to Jamšid all the miracles assigned to Solomon (p. 106, tr. p. 109, tr. Šafiʿi Kadkani, I, p. 474); Eṣṭaḵri (pp. 123, 150, tr. pp. 109, 141) and Ebn Ḥawqal (p. 278) refer to Persepolis as the mosque of Solomon (cf. Malʿab Solaymān “Solomon’s playground” in Moqaddasi, p. 444) and that Jam was Solaymān; and Ḥamd-Allāh Mostawfi reports that, in the Ṣowar al-aqālim (apparently of Abu Zayd Balḵi, [q.v.], lost), the columns in Persepolis were said to be of the Mosque of Solomon and suggests that perhaps Solaymān had turned Jamšid’s house into a mosque (Mostawfi, p. 121, tr., p. 120). Ebn al-Nadim simply points out that some say Solaymān was the first to make the demons his subjects, others say it was Jamšid (ed. Flügel, p. 309, ed. Tajaddod, p. 370, tr. p. 727). Several of the Muslim authors criticize the notion that Jamšid was Solomon by referring to the great time span separating them, including Dinavari (ed. Guirgass, p. 9, ed. ʿĀmer and Šayyāl, p. 6: more than 3000 years of difference) and Mirḵᵛānd (1959-72, I, p. 515-16, ed. Kayānfar, II, p. 595, tr. p. 100: more than 2000 years), who produces additional arguments why they cannot have been the same person.

Masʿudi adds that it was also said that the Flood occurred during his reign (ed. Barbier de Meynard and Courteille II, pp. 112-13, ed. and tr. Pellat, sec. 536), which agrees with Maqdesi, who says that Jamšid lived at the time of Noah (III, pp. 23-24, tr. p. 25, tr. Šafiʿi Kadkani, I, p. 425), while Dinavari has Jam descended from Noah (ed. Guirgass, p. 4, ed. ʿĀmer and Šayyāl, p. 1: son of Vivanjhan son of Arfaḵšaḏ brother of Šāleḵ son of Sām = Šem, son of Noah). Dinavari (ed. ʿĀmer and Šayyāl, pp. 2-3) adds that Jam became king in Babylonia after Sām and that it was during his reign that their language was confused and the sons of Sām settled in various places in the Middle East (arż Bābel), including Iranian territories. He also reports that Nimrod was descended from Jam and that all the Arabs are descended from Arfaḵšaḏ (ed. Guirgass, p. 9, ed. ʿĀmer and Šayyāl, p. 6).

Note also Mary Boyce’s suggestion that the mention in the Tansar- nāma of agriculture in the time of Noah belongs to this tradition (1968, p. 45, n. 2; further on Jamšid’s genealogy, see also Christensen, 1918-34, II, pp. 109-11; Wesendonk, 1924, p. 157 with references).

The Iranian Yima and the Indic Yama. The Vedic and Zoroastrian myths agree and differ in crucial details. The one clearly Indo-Iranian element is the shared father, whose functions, however, differ in detail, although they both refer to first sacrifices: Vivasvant sent the sacrificial fire to mankind, while Vīuuaŋᵛhan was the first to perform a haoma sacrifice (cf. Keith, pp. 112-13).

Two linguistic formulas in the same Rigvedic hymn make the two myths inseparable, gātu- “place to go” + vinda- “find” and “assembly of people/mortals”: Yama was the first to go along the path into the distance of the great slopes for the sake of the many; he found the way to go (RV. 10.14.1, 2: gātúm viveda). Yima expanded the earth for the sake of those who did not find a way to go (Vd. 2.8 nōiṱ gātuuō viṇdən). Yama is the one who assembled people (RV. 10.14.1 saṃgámanaṃ jánānāṃ), and Yima organized an assembly together with the best men (Vd. 2.20: haṇjamanəm frabarata . . . haθra vahiš- taēibiiō maṧiiākaēibiiō).

Other, less precise, correspondences in the same hymn include the following: Yama presumably acted as a shepherd-king, whose “grazing ground” (gávyūti = Av. gaoiiaoiti, Miθra’s heavenly grazing grounds) can not be taken away (RV. 10.14.2). Yima has good flocks (huuąθβa), but only the fourth of the first sacrificers, Pōrušāsp, also has a gaoiiaoiti (Dk. 7.2.29 gāwyūd ī spitāmān “the grazing grounds of the Spitāmas”), father of Zarathustra, who will initiate the return of the world to its state of immortality. All mortals will go to this place, where they will no longer see the sun (RV. 10.14.12 dṛśáye sṹryāya “give us to see the sun!”; cf. Yima’s epithet huuarə.darəsō). And Yama guides us among the gods for us to live a long life (RV. 10.14.14 dīrghám āˊyuḥ prá jīváse, cf. Y. 9.19 [request to Haoma] darəγō.jītīm).

Yama’s mother (daughter of the divine carpenter, Tvaṣṭar), or a substitute (since she disappeared at the wedding), bore the twin Aśvins and left behind a pair (RV. 10.17.1-2), perhaps Yama and Manu/Manuṣ, who are both sons of Vivasvant. According to late traditions, Jamšid has a pair of twin sisters (see above) and is, according to the Pahlavi traditions, one of four brothers (see above).

Yama’s birth was immortal/among the immortals(?) (RV. 1.83.5: yamásya jātám amṛˊtamṟ), and he became a king “at the barrier of the sky” (RV. 9.113.8). His realm of the dead, the abode of the “fathers,” was originally in highest heaven (RV. 10.14.8: paramé vyòman), only later underground. Yima, as king of the golden age, was presumably at first immortal, like his subjects, but it is never suggested he was originally among gods or divine, the hamēstagān, of which Jam became king, being located only between earth and the star-level (Dk. 5.8.5-6, ed. Amouzgar and Tafazzoli, pp. 40-41). Ṭabari is the only one to state explicitly, that Jamšid was tricked by the Devil (Eblis) to believe himself to be a god and call on people to worship him (I, p. 182, tr. I, 351), on which Balʿami’s Devil elaborates: “You are the god of the heavens and earth, but you are not aware of it; you were in heavens, you created this earth, you put the heavens in order and came to the earth to straighten the buisness of the earth, dispense justice, and return to the heavens” (ed. Bahār, p. 131, ed. Gonābādi, p. 89, tr., I, p. 104).

Yama chose death for the sake of(?) the gods (deva) or, for the sake of progeny, did not seek immortality (RV. 10.13.4, riddle hymn). Yima was killed and went to hell. Yama built a dwelling place (sāˊdanā) for the dead (RV. 10.18.13), called “the house of devas” (RV. 10.135.7: yamásya sāˊdanaṃ deva-mānáṃ). Yima ruled over men and daēuuas and is closely associated with dēws in the later tradition.

In the Mahābhārata (book 2 section 8), Yama’s assembly house is described in terms similar to the vara: It was built by Viśvakarman, bright as gold, covered an area of more than a hundred yojanas (a meaure of distance), and possessed the splendor of the sun. It was neither very cool nor very hot, there was no grief or weakness of old age, hunger or thirst. Everything one might desire was to be found there, all kinds of enjoyable things and delicious edibles in abundance, fragrant floral wreaths and fruit trees, and cold and hot waters. All the great heroes of old were there. Also, the house moved wherever Yama wished (Christensen, 1918-34, II, pp. 8-9; Mahābhārata, tr. Buitenen, II, pp. 47-48).

The theme of the overpopulation of the earth is also found in India, as well as elsewhere in Indo-European literature. In the Mahābhārata, one story is told in the first book (ādi-parvan) that, during a golden age populated by immortals, the Asuras were born and multiplied and soon the earth sagged under her burden and, fearful, sought refuge with Brahmā, upon which the gods (devas) descended to earth to destroy their enemies (tr. van Buitenen, I, pp. 136-38). Another story is found in the third book (vana-parvan, sec. 141, tr. Chandra Roy, pp. 423-25; cited by Christensen, 1918-34, II, pp. 6-8). Here, during the terrible times of the kṛta-yuga, the supreme god (ādi-deva) took on “Yama-hood” (yamatva) and created a world in which there was immortality, which led to overpopulation. Having sunk 1000 yojanas, the earth complained to Nārāyaṇa (= Viṣṇu), who increased his size to enable him to lift the earth back up 1000 yojanas on one of his tusks. In the Greek tradition, according to the poem Cypria of the Epic Cycle, Zeus devised the Trojan war to rid the earth of the myriad of heroes weighing her down (Hesiod, 1977, pp. 496-97; on further parallels to the story of the overpopulation and expansion of the earth, see Hertel, pp. 23-33, and Keith’s critique, pp. 621-23; Mahābhārata, tr. Buitenen, II, pp. 203-5; on Flood stories, see Hertel, pp. 26-33).

The Rigvedic dialogue hymn featuring Yama and Yamī has numerous details in common with the Pahlavi stories about Jam and Jamī: Yamī tries to convince Yama to sleep with her, arguing that the immortals wish the one mortal to have offspring (RV. 10.10.3); already in the womb, they were made by their engenderer, Tvaṣṭar, to be husband and wife (RV. 10.10.5). Yama resists, acknowledging that it may yet happen in coming generations that those closely related (jāmí) will perform that which is not proper for them (ájāmi; RV. 10). They tell one another that they expect the other to be embraced by someone else (RV. 13-14).

The Gathic myth of Yima. Numerous attempts have been made to interpret the reference to Yima’s sin in Yasna 32.8: yəˊ maṧiiəˊṇg cixšnušō ahmākəˊṇg gāuš bagā xᵛārəmnō. Early scholars simply followed the Pahlavi interpretation: kē-š ō mardōmān čāšīd kū amāgān gōšt pad bazišn xwarēd “who taught people: eat the meat and distribute(?) it to ours(?)!” In the Warštmānsr nask commentary on this strophe in the Dēnkard, Av. cixšnušō is understood (correctly) as being related to the verb “satisfy (with gifts), make favorable” and the passage as being about how Jam satisfied people by giving them meat to eat (Dk. 9.32.12; cf. Pahl. Y. 9.1). The Pahlavi rendering is based on several pseudo-etymological interpretations: gāuš = gōšt “meat,” bagā = bazišn “sharing,” and xᵛārəmnō = xwarēd “eat!"

Early scholars usually followed this indigenous tradition; Christian Bartholomae (q.v.), for instance, rendered the line as “he who, in order to satisfy humans, gave our (men) pieces of meat to eat” and maintained it expressed Zarathustra’s rejection of Yima and his institutions of the bloody sacrifice and the orgiastic festivals connected with it (AirWb., cols. 1866-67 n. 2; 1905, pp. 32-33). Bartholomae, however, assumed that gāuš “the bull” (nominative) is for gaoš “of bull” (genitive), that is, “of meat” (a meaning gao- has nowhere else); bagā (instrumental of baga- “god”) is the same as bāga- “share”; and xᵛārəmnō (unknown meaning) is the causative of of xᵛara- “eat” (which would be *xᵛāraiia-, but is not attested).

Most translations of the passage in the first half of the 20th century followed this interpretation, for instance, Jacques Duchesne- Guillemin (1962, p. 209), Geo Widengren (pp. 53-54, 66), who also followed Henrik Samuel Nyberg (q.v.; pp. 92-94) in regarding the cult of Yima and the use of haoma as typical of the Männerbund and therefore proscribed by Zarathustra, a notion that has no basis in the sources (see Boyce, 1987). From the 1950s on, when Bartholomae’s (and the Pahlavi translations’) arbitrary grammatical analysis of the passage began to be rejected, new attempts to interpret the strophe were made. In 1957, Helmut Humbach returned to the literal interpretation of gāuš as “cattle,” and, in 1962, Wolfgang Lentz interpreted bagā as a form of baga- “god,” referring to the Zoroastrian tradition that Jam regarded himself as god, while also rejecting the notion that the strophe expressed Zarathustra’s disapproval; rather, he used the myths to illustrate his preaching. Then, in a survey of the sources for bloody sacrifices in Zoroastrianism, Mary Boyce questioned the assumption that Zarathustra rejected the bloody sacrifice (or the haoma), which was practiced by Zoroastrians till recent times (Boyce, 1966, esp. p. 110; idem, 1975-82, I, pp. 214-18).

Helmut Humbach then suggested gāuš could be the verb missing in this phrase and a form of *gau- “to be deficient, sin,” with relatives in Sogdian and Chorasmian meaning “need.” He also quoted Karl Hoffmann to the effect that xᵛāra- could be connected with the Germanic words for swear and oath (Ger. Schwur) and simply mean “swear (an oath),” as in New Pers. sowgand ḵᵛordan, also comparing the legal Pahlavi term xwārestān (Humbach, 1974, p. 199; Bartholomae, 1922, pp. 35, 38: “high court”; Macuch, pp. 108-9: “place of swearing an oath”). In his later translation of the Gāθās, Humbach added that gāuš could also be from the verb meaning “increase” (1991, I, p. 133, II, p. 82).

Stanley Insler in his Gāθā translation (1975) rendered the phrase as “he who wanted to satisfy our men (by) swearing: ‘The cow is goddess’,” taking bagā as an otherwise unknown feminine of baga (Insler, p. 47, with comments, pp. 204, 331; note that there is also no feminine of yazata or of daēuua in Avestan, daēuuī- [AirWb., cols. 667-70] probably being a misspelling for daiuuī- < daiβī- “deceptive”). In 1987, Ilya Gershevitch, building on Humbach and Insler’s proposals, suggested that the strophe contained “direct speech uttered by Yima at his trial,” and that bagā was used by default by “poor pagan Yima” “to address his divine judge” (Gershevitch, 1985- 88, pp. 489-90) and proposed various solutions to the problems of Yašt 19.30-34, as well. Kellens and Pirart in their edition (1988-91) pointed out the impossibility of finding a convincing interpretation and did not translate.

Yima’s time. In the Pahlavi world chronology, the first heroes, Hōšang, Tahmōraf, and Jam, belong to the first millennium after the new-born world of the living was attacked by Ahriman and death was introduced by the killing of Gayōmard and the first Bull (Bdh. 1.59 and chap. 4). The story in Vidēvdād 2, however, seems to take place before the attack, since, under Yima’s reign, there is, as yet, no old age, sickness, or death, nor any of the other evils that were introduced by Ahrimen. When Yima expands the earth, he goes forth “at noon on the road of the sun,” which also suggests a time before the attack, when the sun had not yet started to move (Bdh. 2.17), that is, in the Pahlavi scheme of things, while the world of the living (gētīy) was still in the world of thought (mēnōy) or in Ohrmazd’s womb (Bdh. 1.59).

Moreover, in the Avesta, the first three heroes are typically said to have “had command over men and daēuuas on the seven-fold earth” (Yt. 19.26-31; cf. Benveniste, 1967; Kellens, 2005) or ask for “command over men and daēuuas of all the lands” (Yt. 5.21-25), which appears to describe a time not covered by the Pahlavi world chronology, the time when the daēuuas walked on earth among men (Y. 9.15, Yt. 19.80, see above on Yima and the golden age). The coexistence of men and daēuuas is clear in the Gāθās, as well, and the actual presence of daēuuas on earth is suggested by Yasna 32.3 (“you, dāeuuas, have become renowned on one-seventh of the earth”), and a formerly different status is suggested by Yasna 44.20, where the poet asks whether daēuuas really once had good rule.

Since Zarathustra was the one who drove the daēuuas underground and so put an end to the time of man-daēuua mixture and since he is also featured in the vara, the Zarathustra myth belongs to this early stage of the world, as well, but he was also the first to sacrifice to Ahura Mazdā and first representative of the three classes in the world of the living (Yt. 13.88-90). The myth of the early heroes may therefore reflect a stage of the mythical prehistory before the daēuuas were demoted with the sharpening of cosmological dualism (after this, they, like everybody else, had to make a choice, but made the wrong choice, Y. 30.6). The Yima/Jam myths even suggest the demotion was connected with Yima. The Vidēvdād story may then describe the world after the disappearance of the daēuuas. The “chronological” scheme of the Young Avesta, although different from that of the later tradition, does not contradict such a possibility, since it is demonstrably the transformation of several older myths (see., e.g., Skjærvø, 1998, on the kauuis and the war against Fraŋrasiian). That the chronological indications in the Avesta puzzled the Sasanian priests, however, is clear from the Pahlavi commentary on Vidēvdād 2.19, where some commentator found it necessary to spell out the standard teaching of the twelve trimillennia adducing an otherwise lost Avestan passage on the duration of the world of thought and that of living beings (see also Kellens, 1999-2000, pp. 733-34, on the evolution of the old myth under the influence of the millenary scheme). A different interpretation of Yasna 32 may be attempted if we compare the succession of ages in the Iranian mythoepic tradition with the Greek myth of the ages of the world described by Hesiod in his Works and Days (lines 110-55). Hesiod’s age of gold was, like that of Yima, free from all kinds of worries, including old age. The earth bore abundant and inexhaustible (áphthonon) fruits (cf. Y. 9.4 = Yt. 15.16, 19.32), and people dwelt in peace with abundant flocks (cf. Yima’s epithet “having good flocks” huuąθβa-). The similarity with Yima’s age of gold is obvious, including waters and plants not drying out with inexhaustible (ajiiamna) tasty foods (see Skjærvø’s review of Humbach and Ichaporia, 1998, pp. 186-87). After this age came to an end, its inhabitants became spirits roaming all over the earth. The men of the silver age were short-lived and characterized by hybris, which led them to sin by refusing to sacrifice and give honor to the gods. As this age, too, came to an end, its inhabitants became spirits (daimones) dwelling beneath the earth.

The third age, that of bronze, saw hybris and violence. Men enjoyed war and, killing one another, had to go to Hades, leaving the bright light of the Sun. In Yasna 32.6-7, the strophes preceding Yasna 32.8, the poet first mentions “the many sins for which he is seeking renown in lack of peace(?)” and then states, “of these sins I declare in *honesty I know none at all, the ones that are renowned as (tales?) of *violence (jōiiā), for which (one/he?) is renowned by (his) *shining metal (weapon).” In light of Hesiod’s description, the mythoepic references (*srauuahiieitī “he is seeking renown,” srāuuī “was renowned”) may be to weapon-wielding heroes of great strength, whose violent bent betrayed them into the sin of hybris. The “*shining metal” (xᵛaēnā aiiaŋhā) is also what the sky is made of (Yt.13.2; Bdh. 34.5; MX. 8.7) and may well refer to (bronze) weapons. There is no evidence that the term refers to the ordeal by fire, as assumed from Bartholomae to Insler and Humbach. Kellens and Pirart, however, suggested the etymology *hu-waina- “good to look at,” which would fit, for intance, mirrors made of shiny bronze. Hesiod’s fourth age, that of iron, was inhabited by a nobler divine race of heroes. This age saw the battles before Thebe and at Troy, which would correspond to the battle of the Kauuis with Fraŋrasiian and the great battle in the Mahābhārata (see Skjærvø, 1998). After the wars, the heroes lived in a place free from worries ruled by Cronus, who had become king after castrating his father (Works and Days 168-71; cf. Christensen, 1918-34, II, p. 41).

Hesiod’s fifth and last age, that of iron, was one of war and good mingled with evil (line 179). Apparently, this was caused by Zeus as a revenge for the theft of the fire by Prometheus (cf. Vivasvant, above on Yima as solar figure), by fashioning Pandora, whose box contained all evils that afterward befell men (the story is told before that of the five ages, Works and Days 50-89). This age would correspond to the period of the “mixture” in the Pahlavi scheme.

It is therefore likely, that the Avestan and pre-Avestan myths of the first ages were considerably more archaic than their Pahlavi versions, which explains why it is difficult to reconcile the two. The subsequent fall of Yima, however, is not clarified by these mythical chronologies, but depends on the myth of the Fortune (xᵛarənah), which is not yet understood.

Yima as first man and the cosmogonic sacrifice. Since the 19th century, the Vidēvdād Yima myth has been taken to be that of the mythical “first man” as well as “first king.” That we are dealing with a first king is clear from the terms xšaθra “royal command” and xšaiia- “rule, be in command” (on Kellens’ objection see below), but the claims that Yima is also the “first man,” mainly based on the Indic Yama, are more doubtful and poorly supported by the Iranian sources (cf. Shaked, 1987, p. 238; Christensen adduces only Bdh. 35.4 about the lineage from Jam and Jamī through Āspīgān and *Zrēšom, presumably the ancestors of Frēdōn). According to the Avesta, Yima’s father, Vīuuaŋᵛhant, was the first mortal to press the haoma and thereby obtained a son, Yima, while, in Vidēvdād 2, Yima is only the first mortal to be addressed by Ahura Mazdā. As the Iranian Yima had no obvious features of the first man in the Iranian myths, early scholars thought this was an Indo-Iranian part of the myth that had been kept in India but been modified in Iran by Zarathustra, leading to the replacement or displacement of Yima by Gaiia Martān/Gayōmard (cf. Carnoy, 1917, pp. 313-14).

By the turn of the century, it had also been suggested that the Indic Yama and Manu were mythological complementary dublets of the first man (e.g., Macdonell, p. 139; see also, e.g., Lincoln, 1981a, p. 82), an idea that was taken up and applied to the Iranian myth, as well (for a personal interpretation of Yima as originally prophet and Messiah, see Blochet, p. 127.) Christensen also suggested that the Indians had the Flood story from the Babylonians (1916, p. 64; idem, 1918-34, II, pp. 61-62 with n. 1).

The “cutting” of Yima has also been connected with myths about the cutting up of a primordial man or giant to make the world, such as the Rigvedic Puruṣa (RV. 10.90) and the Old Norse Ymir. The idea was developed by Hermann Güntert (1923, esp. pp. 333-39), who, to strengthen his case, provided an etymological connection between Yama and Ymir, explaining Ymir as a derivative of *yemo-/yomo-: Germanic *yum(i)yaz from Indo-European *yəm(i)yós (pp. 337-38) with “schwa secundum,” a reduced vowel Güntert posited in 1916 in consonant groups that were difficult to pronounce, but on a rather arbitrary basis (Yima/Ymir is not discussed there). He did not, however, explain the function of the suffix, which, at least, ought to mean “belonging to, related to,” or, in the case of a proper name, “son of” (another question is whether Indo-European had -iya-/-īya- derivatives with zero grade from this type of nouns). It should be noted that the surface similarity between the two names is deceptive, since the only letter they have in common is -m-; the initial y- of the Indo-Iranian forms is a consonant (as in year), while the initial y- of Ymir is a vowel (German ü-). There is also no guarantee that the original initial was y-, as “*yəm(i)yós, *wəm(i)yós, and *Həm(i)yós” would all become Old Norse ymir by Güntert’s rule.

Puruṣa, Ymir, and Gayōmard (first man in the Iranian myth) are also not twins, and Yama and Gayōmard are not dismembered to form the parts of the world. Güntert circumvented these problems variously. He interpreted the name of Tacitus’ Tuisto, father of Mannus and first ancestor of the Germanic people, as related to German Zwitter “hermaphrodite” and Zwilling “twin,” then compared Ymir, whom he regarded as the factual equivalent of Tuisto (Güntert, 1923, pp. 324- 33). The twin nature of Ymir, however, was only preserved in a myth according to which, when Yimir fell asleep, a boy and a girl were born from under his arm, while his two feet engendered a son with six heads (p. 336). From the fact that Gayōmard’s offspring were the first two humans (male and female), he concluded that Gayōmard was not yet sexually differentiated (nor was the First Bull), but a hermaphrodite, male-female (pp. 347, 362). The lack of dismembering of Indic Yama was explained by early confusion of Puruṣa “Man,” who was really Manuṣ, with Manuṣ’s step-brother Yama, which also made Puruṣa a “twin” (pp. 322-24). The (unattested) dismembering of Gayōmard to make the world was replaced by the transformation of his body parts into metals at his death (Bdh. 14.3; cf. MX. 26.18; Schaeder, p. 228, suggested that this transformation provided a bridge between the legend of the first man and speculations about man as microcosmos). There are two Pahlavi texts that present the world as consisting of the parts of the human body, but, in neither, the identity of the body is mentioned. The Pahlavi Rivāyat contains the cosmogonic part, in which the world is made from a body the creator contains in his own body (PR. 46; Güntert, 1923, pp. 330-31), and the Bundahišn contains the eschatological part, in which Ohrmazd says he will call back from the world the elements it received in the beginning: the bones from the earth, the blood from the water, the hair from the plants, the soul from the wind (Bdh. 34.5).

The myth of Yima in scholarship. Most late-19th- and 20th-century discussions of Old Iranian mythology were based on the axiom of the prophet Zarathustra’s reform, in which earlier “pagan” concepts were abandoned in exchange for a modern “ethical” religion. From this point of view, the apparent criticism and rejection of Yima and his sins were part of the prophet’s personal doctrine. The appearance of the Yima myth in the Young Avestan and later literature, in spite of the prophet’s condemnation, was, like all mythical elements, regarded as a return to pre-Zoroastrian beliefs and a disintegration of the new religion. As there is wide disagreement about the contents of Zarathustra’s reform, scholars have used it relatively freely to support their theories.

In the 19th century, a concensus also developed that, based on contents, style, and language, the Vidēvdād was a “late” composition, and not to be ascribed to the prophet. For instance, Peter Stuhr (p. 342) found the Vidēvdād to be so “pale” and lacking in the “original vivacity of spirit” that it must be a late composition (cited by Wilson, p. 297), echoed over a century later by Ilya Gershevitch (1968, p. 27), to whom “the enjoyment in reading” the Vidēvdād was marred by “deadly pedantery” and “dreary repetitions.” As for the language, Karl Geldner, for instance, thought that Vidēvdād 2 was based on the Iranian epic, but expanded with prose texts by someone with a poor command of the language (Geldner, 1926, p. 28 n. 170); Robert C. Zaehner (1961, p. 162) and Gershevitch (1968, p. 27) both complained about the authors’ grammatical confusion and negligence. The notion of the “lateness” of the Vidēvdād and its presumed non- or post-Zoroastrian contents, remained throughout the 19th-20th centuries, leading several authors to ascribe the text to the Median Magi (see below). In 1943, Walter Bruno Henning (q.v.) argued that it was post-Alexander, because the units of measure used in it were, he thought, the Greco-Roman ones (Henning, 1943b, pp. 235-36), an argument cited by Boyce (Boyce and Grenet, p. 68). Despite such opinions, which did not take into account the oral and written transmission of the text, the style and language of the Vidēvdād do not prove that it is later than the rest of the Young Avesta (see Skjærvø, 2006, pp. 112-16), but the common opinion has seriously influenced scholars’ study of the Yima myths.

A passage that featured relatively prominently in the early discussions was Vidēvdād 2.22 (auui ahūm astuuaṇtəm aγəm zimō jaŋhəṇti, twice), first discussed by Bruno Lindner (p. 214) and frequently cited in 19th- and 20th-century scholarship, but rarely questioned (Bartholomae, AirWb., col. 47; Geldner, 1926, p. 28; Christensen, 1918-34, II, p. 59; Boyce, 1975-82, I, p. 94). The adjective aγəm “evil,” which begins the second octosyllable, agrees in case and number with the preceding “upon the world with bones” rather than with the following “winters,” to which it obviously belongs, leading to translations such as “upon the bad corporeal world winters will come” instead of “upon the corporeal world bad winters will come,” which is the way the Pahlavi rendering has it. The traditional translation makes it sound as if the winters are a punishment for a humanity gone bad, “sinful humanity” (Lindner, p. 215; Lommel, p. 199), providing an obvious parallel with flood stories such as the one in the Bible. The Avestan adjective is never applied to Ahura Mazdā’s creations, however, only those of the Evil Spirit, among them natural disasters (cf. Y. 57.14 with aγå . . . vōiγnå yeiṇti “evil *floods will come”), and in Vidēvdād 7.27, the synonymous adjective aγauuatō is applied to “winter” (among the evils characterizing Airiiana Vaējah are the winter and the excess of vōiγnās, Vd. 1.3). Lommel suggested that the phrase referred to the imperfect humans who were not admitted into the vara, but the Avestan adjective is not applied to bodily defects. In view of the poor transmission of the Vidēvdād, it is not problematic to assume that aγəm has its ending from the previous two words and should be emended to *aγa to agree with zimō (in the manuscript E10, the ending has also been extended to the verb: zaŋhəṇtəm). Abraham Anquetil-Duperron, whose translation was based on the Parsi tradition, has “the evil winter,” and Martin Haug, realizing the grammatical problem, has the grammatically legitimate translation as “the evil of winter” (Haug, 1862, p. 204 “evils,” 1878, p. 233 “evil”).

This narrative of a flood released by God to punish a humanity gone bad early on provoked speculations that there might have been at least knowledge of, if not direct borrowings from, Mesopotamian traditions; already in 1871, Alexander Kohut opined that the similarities in the stories about Adam and the flood in the Jewish Talmudic and Midrashic tradition with the Iranian ones were due to interaction between the two peoples when the Jews lived under Iranian government (i.e., in Babylon; Kohut, pp. 59-61, 94). He also suggested that the Yima and the “Meshia” (Mašī) legends were developments of one original legend (p. 68).

Early attempts to interpret the Yima myth include those by the Indologist Rudolph Roth in 1850, who regarded Yama and Yamī as the children of heaven and the thundercloud. Yama was the first man and the first to die and go to the realm of the dead, whose king he became. Yama’s paradise was in heaven, that of Yima on earth. Yima’s sin was a late development. Yama corresponds to the Indic first man Manu, who gradually replaced him and delegated him to the realm of the dead (see Christensen, 1918-34, II, pp. 32-35 for this and later 19th-century scholarship).

Friedrich Windischmann, building on Roth’s study, in his first study (1852) of the Indic Flood story, compared the couple Manuṣ - Yama with Greek Minos and Rhadamanthys, an idea that is occasionally mentioned in subsequent literature (e.g., Lincoln, 1981b, pp. 237-38). In his next study, Windischmann suggested that Gayōmard with his further devolpment into “Meschia” (Mašī) was the first man in the “theosophic form” of the Zoroastrian system, and that Yima was the first man of the old Aryan legend but had to be moved to another place in the system, in spite of the paradisiacal nature of the myth (Windischmann, 1859, p. 76 n. 1). In his later work (1863, p. 27), he suggested that Yima’s gift of meat to mankind corresponded to Noah’s sacrifice, by which mankind was allowed to eat meat (Genesis 8:20, 9:3), and that Jam’s marriage with the parīg corresponded to that of Adam with Lilith, (from which union demons, etc. were born) and to the similar union between Eve and a male devil (pp. 31-32).

James Darmesteter, in his early essays on (Indo-)Iranian mythology (1877), interpreted the ancient Indic and Iranian myths in terms of the three battles between the representatives of light and those of darkness, whose weapon is the lightning bolt: in the morning, at new year, and after the storm. In this scenario, the heroes were the agents of the light and came from above, were “men from above.” Yima combined the “man from above” and “first man,” who, “like all others of his kind,” became the king of a legendary kingdom on earth, but was “fatally limited, with a sinister end”: he was torn apart by the Serpent with the lightning bolt, an element of the storm myth (Darmesteter, 1877, p. 232). The vara, a celestial abode like Yama’s deva-sādana (correct: deva-mānam, see above on the Indic Yama) was originally identical with Garōdmāna, paradise, but the two were separated when Gayōmard became first man and Yima’s true title was forgotten (p. 233). The eschatological myth of the destructive winter (not flood!), was the myth of the year, transferred to the life of the universe, but conflicted with the myth of rejuvenation after the storm (p. 234). The replacement of the winter by the rain was one of the rare borrowings from Semitic myth, and “Malkosh” is Hebrew “Malqosh,” late-season rain (p. 234 n. 1). Later, in his Le Zend-Avesta (1893), Darmesteter relinquished his interpretation of Malkūs, which he had by now connected with Avestan mahrka “destruction,” and thought the legend was borrowed and the function of Noah transferred to Yima with the necessary adaptations (Darmesteter, 1893, II, pp. 19-20). In the chapter on foreign elements in Zoroastrianism (ibid., III), he devoted a lengthy section to parallels between the Old Testament and Zoroastrian texts; among other things, he suggested that the chronologization of the early history originated in the Bible, which the Avesta used as its model, though the Iranians may have used a Chaldean version of Genesis as model (1893, III, pp. lix-lx). The story of the Flood belonged completely to Noah, whereas it is totally unexpected and incongruous in the story of Yima, so much so that the popular tradition simply dropped it (III, p. lx). The context in which the borrowings could take place was Babylonia and other Jewish diaspora in the Middle East (III, p. lxii).

Bruno Lindner (1893, pp. 215-16) recommended caution in assuming that the Flood story was borrowed in view of the universal existence of Flood stories; rather, one should investigate the Indo-Iranian antecedents of the story. To Zarathustra, the story meant nothing, but he was unable to eradicate it from popular beliefs, and he therefore incorporated the story by putting Yima in charge of furthering the divine creation. The popular development helped out by transposing the Flood story to the eschatological narrative and by recasting it in a framework more suited to Iranian climate and geography. Borrowings or external influence he considered excluded (Lindner, p. 216).

James Hope Moulton, a Wesleyan minister and Methodist missionary in India, focused on the parallels between the Old Testament and the Avestan stories about how sin, death, and misery entered the world (1913, pp. 148-50). Citing Yasna 32.8 and the Pahlavi translation of Yasna 9.1 (from Bartholomae, AirWb., cols. 1866-67), he concluded that Yima, deceived by the daēuuas, who deprive man of good life and immortality, had made his subjects immortal by giving them forbidden food to eat. He pointed out the similarities in the two stories: the spirit of evil was materialized as a serpent and the consequence of the Fall was the loss of the divine Glory; but also the differences: Yima, a man, gave forbidden food (meat) to his subjects, while Eve, a woman, gave a fruit to her husband; Yima was of the fifth, not the first, generation of the world, making him the contemorary of Mahalalel (Genesis 5:12); and his brother killed him like Cain killed Abel (Moulton, pp. 307-8). Moreover, the story of the vara was similar to that of Noah’s ark as well as to the description of the New Jerusalem. Since the Old Testament and its Babylonian parallel stories were older than the Iranian ones, the Iranian ones must have been borrowed, implying that Yima contained elements from Adam, Eve, Abel, Mahalalel, and Noah (p. 308). Moulton also dismissed the Vidēvdād as a late work and assigned it to the Magi, whose practices differed from those of the Prophet (pp. 183, 225).

Albert J. Carnoy pointed out that Yima’s solar epithets would be incomprehensible if Yima were simply the first man and, instead, suggested that the Yima legend must originally have been that of the setting sun, the perfect image of human life (1917, pp. 313-14).

Johannes Hertel, in his 1924 study, reviewed the Yima myth in Vidēvdād 2, comparing Indic Flood myths and myths about the expansion of the earth (pp. 23-33). He concluded that the vara (Indic vala) must be the vault of heaven (see Keith’s critique, 1925, pp. 621- 23). To him, the two stories of Yima’s golden age and the destructive winter were incompatible. He thought the author could only have been one of the Magi, whom Zarathustra fought, and that the extant story was the result of manipulation of the older myth to make it fit the new religion and make it dogmatically harmless (Hertel, pp. 15-17).

Hermann Güntert, too, who discussed in depth the relationship between Yama/Yima and other Indo-European first men, notably Old Norse Ymir (see above on Yima first man), in a chapter on the Aryan legends of the god-man (1923, Part II, II) was convinced that the name of Gaiia Marətan was the result of artificial speculation (p. 346) and, approving of Windischmann’s theory, himself speculated that it was Zarathustra himself who wanted to incorporate Yima into the system, but under the name of Gaiia Marətan, which led to Yima’s ouster from the popular traditions (p. 365). He also followed Windischmann in his reconstruction of a Narcissus-like myth, in which Gayōmard fell in love with his “double, alter ego” his fravaṧi, by which pederasty and sin entered the world (pp. 361-62).

Karl F. Geldner had studied Vidēvdād 2 in detail in 1881, pointing out the Mesopotamian connections (p. 181). In a much later publication (1926), he described the vara as preserving a micro-model of Yima’s golden age for the continuation of the Aryan race (p. 30, n. 178).

Arthur Christensen began his studies of Iranian “first men” in 1916 with Manu/Manu(š)čihr. The principal conclusion to be drawn from this study, however, is that the evidence for Christensen’s conclusion that Manuš.ciθra/Manuščihr replaced *Manuš = the Indic Manuṣ/Manu, first man and first sacrificer (p. 68), is slim at best. His assumption that Manuš.ciθra meant “son of Manuš” is doubtful, in view of the parallel gaociθra applied to the moon and meaning “which contains the appearance and/or seed of the bull.” Vague connections with Yima include Manu’s role in the Indic Flood story and the couple Manuščihr’s twin sister Manušag (see above on Yima first man). In the volume devoted to Yima (1934), Christensen relied on Yašt 9.10 to assume that Yima’s reign originally occupied the entire first millennium of the world of the living, which would include the Vidēvdād count of 900 years plus the one century in exile (Christensen, 1918-34, II, pp. 35-36; cf. Darmesteter, 1893, II, p. 18). On this assumption, the Avestan Haošiiaŋha (Hōšang) and Taxma Urupi (Tahmōraf), as well as the Pahlavi Gayōmard, would have been added to the myth from local traditions, which resulted in the new counts of the reign Jam. He proposed explanations of the various myths of the Yima myth complex in the light of comparative mythology, anthropology, and folklore, among them those of first men; the myths of Jam and Jamī and Mašī and Mašyānī; Yima’s immortality; lands of bliss reserved for heroes (Elysium, Valhalla; 1918-34, II, pp. 36-42); and of the vara as land of bliss and Yima, son of the sun and first man, as its first ruler (ibid., pp. 42-45). In Iran, the myth developed in two mutually exclusive directions; on the one hand (original myth), Yima as first man and ruler on earth, and, on the other hand (popular and priestly development), Yima as ruler of the non-terrestrial land of bliss. Subsequently, however, the first took on the characteristics of the second (ibid., pp. 45-46). Christensen cited Windischmann’s observation that Yima’s gift of meat to mankind corresponds to Noah’s sacrifice by which mankind was allowed to eat meat and pointed out that the loss of immortality due to mankind’s sins corresponds to Adam’s loss of paradise (Christensen, 1918-34, II, pp. 49-50). Following others (e.g., Darmesteter, 1893, p. 20), Christensen also considered the question of a connection between the myth of the vara and the winter of Malkūs and that of the Flood, adding the evidence of other Mesopotamian Flood stories, but also pointed out the differences and further compared the Old Norse apocalyptic narratives of a devastating winter (1918-34, II, pp. 58-61). Christensen summed up the development of the myth, beginning with the idea of an Elysium, in which the first man, having become a god, lives with other immortal heroes and gods. This myth was influenced by that of the subterraneous land of the dead and the apocalyptic winter and was moved to the eschatology. Finally, the legend was influenced by the Semitic Flood traditions, widespread in the Near East (ibid., pp. 61-62).

Among more recent discussion of the Yima myth is that by Robert C. Zaehner (1961, chapter 5), who shared Moulton’s opinion of the Vidēvdād (1961, p. 162). Zaehner gave a detailed description of the Yima myth and its parallels in Indic, but his chief purpose was to explore Yima’s relationship with Mithra (cf. Boyce, 1975-82, I, p. 93 n. 54), and his insightful assessments of the myths were evaluated in the light of what he regarded as Zarathustra’s teachings. He viewed the Yima legend in the light of Zarathustra’s condemnation of Yima as a sinner, who, for his sin, lost immortality for himself and all of humanity. He regarded it as strange that the sin for which Zarathustra denounced him, the animal sacrifice (based on Y. 32.8, see above on the Gathic myth of Yima), should not be mentioned in the later tradition and proposed that this reflected the popular tradition, which “developed independently of the Zoroastrian reform” and in which the story of Yima’s sin was the more popular. Similarly, the myth of the vara “must belong to a very old stratum of Iranian folklore wholly untouched by the teachings of Zoroaster,” and Yima was worshipped as a god by those “who had not accepted the Zoroastrian reform” (Zaehner, pp. 134-35).

Marijan Molé, in his discussion of Y. 32.8 and its commentary in the Warštmānsr nask (Dk. 9.32.12), insisted that Yima is presented as first king and that the “sin,” which the poet-sacrificer claims not to have committed and for which Yima was renowned, must have been a ritual fault (Molé, 1963, pp. 222-26).

Mary Boyce, too, relieved Zarathustra’s teachings of the myths of Yima by assigning them either to pre-Zoroastrian beliefs or to late scholastic speculations. She elaborated on a tradition that Yima dwelt in paradise succeeding that of Yima as the “god beneath earth” (1975-82, I, pp. 94, 116-17, 277-78; see above on Yima, the dead, and Hell), suggesting it developed as the result of Zarathustra’s demotion of the subterranean dwelling to Hell; but, since this was no longer a suitable dwelling for King Yima, he was transported into a new, paradisiacal, dwelling, the story of which is told in Vidēvdād 2 and, apparently survived in the Dēnkard myth of Nēryōsang and Jam bringing Zarathustra’s fravaṧi down to earth (ibid., pp. 94, 277). Boyce gives no reference for this last event, which appears to be based on a wrong reading of Dēnkard 7.2.21 on the descent of Zarathustra from Jam and Nēryōsang (see above on Yima and the heroes of the origins; correct tr. by West, see Dēnkard, tr. West, p. 23; Molé, 1967, pp. 6-7). Her statement (1975-82, I, p. 95) that, according to the Vidēvdād, Yima did not die but withdrew to a hidden place, is unclear, since it is not said explicitly in the Avesta that Yima hid in the vara, that he dwelt there with his chosen, or, indeed, that he did not die. Boyce followed Moulton and Zaehner (also Henning) in assigning a late date to the Vidēvdād and agreed that it is “perfectly possible” that this part of the legend was inspired by the Mesopotamian myth, where it was a punishment wreaked upon the “bad corporeal world,” a “wholly unZoroastrian conception,” but with the Flood changed into a natural disaster more appropriate for Iranian geography. Boyce regarded the eschatological role of the war as due to an apocalyptic tradition that developed later as part of Zoroastrian scholastic learning, but did not become popular, as opposed to Yima’s fall (echoing Zaehner). She also regarded Yima’s association with first man as “priestly speculation” (Boyce, 1975-82, I, p. 96; cf. Güntert, and Christensen, above). Bruce Lincoln has written frequently about Yima in the context of “first men,” he, too, on the basis of the assumption that the myth was manipulated by Zarathustra (e.g., 1981b, p. 233). Thus, Lincoln believes Zarathustra “stripped” Yima “of his role as lord of paradise” and that the story of the vara was “in large measure influenced by the Mesopotamian flood legend” (ibid., p. 234). He aims to reconstruct an Indo-European myth of first sacrificer and first sacrificed man/king, who is dismembered to form the various parts of the world, typified by the Rigvedic Puruṣa “Man” and the Old Norse giant Ymir (Lincoln, 1981a, chap. IV; idem, 1986, p. 174 n. 3). In Indo-Iranian, Lincoln too finds the first sacrificed man/king in Yama, who was replaced by (Pahlavi) Gayōmard in Iran and (Rigvedic) Puruṣa in India (Lincoln, 1981a, pp. 76, 80), and the first sacrificer is Manuš, who is represented as Manušciθra/Manuščihr in Iran (p. 83). Lincoln suggests in conclusion (pp. 83-84) that, because *Manuš as first sacrificer was closely associated with the cattle sacrifice, which had been condemned by Zarathustra, he “was written out of the tradition.” He resurfaced, however, in Ahriman (“an original conception of Zarathustra”), first sacrificer [i.e., of Gayōmard, ibid., p. 75]; Spitiiura, as the brother who dismembered Yima [the gods, not Manu, dismembered Puruṣa]; Manuščihr, as the ancestor of the priestly line; and Zarathustra, as “priest par excellence.” In Germanic, Ymir was no longer either first man or king by internal developments (ibid., p. 80 n. 142). One of his principal pieces of evidence is the etymological relationship between Yama and Old Norse Ymir proposed by Herrmann Güntert (see above; Lincoln, 1981a, pp. 75-76). He also suggests that the original creative dismemberment of Yima was “transformed along royal lines” into the distribution of the Fortune among representatives of the three classes (Lincoln, 1975, p. 132, cf. 1981a, pp. 78-79). Lincon does not appear to cite the text in the Pahlavi Rivāyat about the making of the world from a person (PR. 46, cited by Güntert, 1923, pp. 330-31). Kellens has written on Yima in several articles. In 1984, he developed the theory that the tools given to Yima endowed him with a creative magic that permitted him to perform several tasks received from the gods: make immortality, give the earth its permanent size, and prepare it for the universal cataclysm; thus, he occupied a place between gods and humans. The shared motif of the incest with his sister, however, suggests he was also a first man, ancestor of humanity (Kellens, 1984, pp. 280-81). In 1987 (p. 249, repr. p. 13) and 1988 (pp. 329-34), he suggested that the builder of the Cinuuant Bridge, who “piled” (ci-) it up, may have been Yima. In his recent discussions of the myths of Yima (1994-95; 1997-98; 1999-2000, pp. 727-34; 2002-3, pp. 819-26), he questions several of the traditional interpretations of the Avestan evidence. What is more significant, he disputes the interpretation of xšaθra as “royal command” and xšaiia- as “to rule, be in command” (see 1999-2000, p. 727; wrongly in the present author’s opinion), arguing that the two tools given to Yima are those of a magical power, although he points out they are the tools of a shepherd (ibid., p. 729). The notion of the shepherd king is ancient, however, and is found in Iran in the first strophe of the Gāθās, the Yaθā ahū vairiiō (Ahunwar, q.v.). Kellens sums up his comparison between the Indic Yama and Iranian Yima, by asserting that, while Yama was the first man, first to die, and the first to occupy paradise, Yima first construed a paradise (though not really a paradise, since its occupants had not previously died) and was immortal in the first (Pishdadid) period of the world, then mortal and, with his sister, became the “first man” in the sense that, by renewing the xwēdōdah, he became the ancestor of the people of the second (Kayanid) period. Thus, Yima provided two elements necessary for the eschatological renewal of immortality: the population that was to repopulate the world in the period of Ušēdar and the xwēdōdah, which would lead to the Renovation (fraškerd, see FRAŠŌ.KƎRƎTI; Kellens, 1999-2000, pp. 733-34). Yima’s was the first of three attempts at immortality, the second being Paradise, to which Zarathustra opened access, and the third the earth itself after the Renovation (cf. Kellens, 1997-98, pp. 759-64). Shaul Shaked drew the balance of previous studies in an article in 1987. Yima may have been regarded as first mortal and the originator of humanity and civilization. If he was also the first human at some early stage, this was changed in Zoroastrianism when Gaya Marətan became first man and for various other reasons, but, in the extant sources, he is not (Shaked, 1987b, pp. 238. 240). Gaya Marətan/Gayōmard was a new concept introduced by Zoroastrianism, as strongly indicated by the binomial form of his name (like Ahura Mazdā, etc.). His original place in the mythical chronology is not clear (pp. 238-39), as opposed to his function as founder of civilization and first king, which are clear, perhaps also that of first sinner (pp. 240- 41). Shaked speculates that “dualism may be inherent in the bright luminosity of the divinity itself,” which might explain Yima’s ambiguity (p. 244; cf. Carnoy’s suggestion that Yima was the setting sun). The pervasive ambiguities in the popular versions of the myths suggest a syncretism by which the different levels influenced one another and the ancient layers filtered up through the more recent ones, while the effects of a cultural syncretism is seen in the attempts at synchronizing Iranian, Biblical, and, later, Islamic characters (Shaked, 1987b, p. 245, cf. ibid., p. 252). In the later tradition, the figures of Yima and Gayōmard are fairly complementary, both being solar figures who received messages from God, but they belong to two different symbolic fields. In the priestly tradition (cf. Güntert, Christensen, Boyce, above), Yima is a semi-divine presence, active and heroic, while Gayōmard represents “humanity as a passive instrument in the cosmic battle.” In the popular tradition, they both became mythical first kings (Shaked, 1987b, pp. 251-52).

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Jean de Menasce see Dēnkard, book 3. Mēnōy ī xrad, ed. Tahmuras D. Anklesaria as Dânâk-u mainyô-i khard, Bombay, 1913; tr. E. W. West as “Dînâ-î maînôgî khirad,” in idem, tr., Pahlevi Texts, Part 3, Sacred Books of the East 24, 3rd ed., Delhi, 1970, pp. 3-113; tr. Aḥmad Tafażżoli as Minu-ye ḵerad, Tehran, 1975; repr. Tehran, 1995.

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Mojmal al-tawāriḵ wa’l-qeṣasá, ed. Moḥammad-Taqi Malek-al-Soʿarāʾ Bahār, Tehran, 1939.

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Ḥamd-Allāh Mostawfi, Tāriḵ-e gozida, facs. ed. Edward G. Browne, 2 vols., Leiden, 1910-13.

Idem, Nozhat al-qolub, ed. and tr. Guy Le Strange, 2 vols., Leiden and London, 1915-19.

James H. Moulton, Early Zoroastrianism: Lectures Delivered at Oxford and in London, February to May 1912, London, 1913.

Nāma-ye Tansar ba Gošnasb, ed. Mojtabā Minovi, Tehran, 1975; tr. Mary Boyce as The Letter of Tansar, Rome, 1968.

Henrik S. Nyberg, Irans forntidiga religioner, Stockholm, 1937; tr. Hans H. Shaeder as Die Religionen des Alten Iran, repr. Osnabrück, 1966.

Pahlavi Rivāyat, ed. and tr. Alan V. Williams, as The Pahlavi Rivāyat Accompanying the Dādestān ī Dēnīg I-II, Det Kongelige Danske Videnskabernes Selskab, hist.fil. medd. 60, 1-2, Copenhagen, 1990; tr. Mahšid Mir-Faḵrāʾi as Rewāyat-e Pahlavi, Tehran, 1988.

Antonio Panaino, see Hintze. Persian Rivāyats, tr. Bamanji Nusserwanji Dhabhar as The Persian Rivayats of Hormazyar Framarz and Others, Bombay, 1932.

Peter Parkes, “Temple of Imra, Temple of Mahandeu: A Kafir Sanctuary in Kalasha Cosmology,” BSO(A)S 54, 1991, pp. 75-103.

Eric V. Pirart, Kayân Yasn (Yasht 19.9-96): l’origine avestique des dynasties mythiques d’Iran, Sabadell-Barcelona, 1992.

Ebrāhim Pur(-e) Dāwud, “Jam,” in idem, Yāddāšthā-ye Gāthā, ed. Bahrām Farahvaši, Tehran, 1957, pp. 425-40.

Rudolph Roth, “Die Sage von Dschemschid,” ZDMG 4, 1850, pp. 417-33.

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Mahindoḵt Ṣediqiān, Farhang-e asāṭiri-ḥamāsi-e Irān ba rewāyat-e manābeʿ-e baʿd az Eslām I, Tehran, 1976, pp. 76-125.

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Shaul Shaked, “Paymān: An Iranian Idea in Contact with Greek Thought and Islam,” in Transition Periods in Iranian History: Actes du Symposium de Fribourg-en-Brisgau (22-24 mai 1985), Studia Iranica. Cahier 5, Leuven, 1987a, pp. 217-40.

Idem, “First Man, First King: Notes on Semitic-Iranian Syncretism and Iranian Mythological Transformations,” in Shaul Shaked, David Dean Shulman, and Gedaliahu G. Stroumsa, eds., Gilgul: Essays on Transformation, Revolution, and Permanence in the History of Religions, Dedicated to R. J. Zwi Werblowsky, Leiden and New York, 1987b, pp. 238-56.

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Idem, Bactrian Documents I, Studies in the Khalili Collection III, Corpus Inscr. Iran. II/6, Oxford, 2000. Idem, “Avestan suβrā-, Turkish süvre,” Silk Road Studies 5 (De Dunhuang à Istanbul: Hommage à James Russell Hamilton), 2001, pp. 329-38.

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Idem, “Iranian Epic and the Manichean Book of Giants: Irano- Manichaica III,” in Zsigismond Telegdi Memorial Volume, AOASH 48/1-2, 1995 (publ. 1997), pp. 187-223.

Idem, “The State of Old-Avestan Scholarship,” JAOS 117, 1997, pp. 103-14.

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Idem, “Zoroastrian Dualism,” in Acts of Light against Darkness: Dualism in Ancient Mediterranean Religion and the Contemporary World, University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill (forthcoming).

Peter F. Stuhr, Die Religions-Systeme der Heidnischen Völker des Orients, Berlin, 1836. Abu Manṣur ʿAbd-al-Malek Ṯaʿālebi, Ḡorar aḵbār moluk al-fors, ed. Hermann Zotenberg as Histoir des rois des Perses, Paris, 1900.

Moḥammad b. Jarir Ṭabari, Taʾriḵ al-rosol wa’l-moluk, ed. Michaël Jan De Goeje, Leiden, 1964, I/1, pp. 179-83; tr. by various scholars as The History of al-Ṭabari, 40 vols., Albany, New York, 1985-2007.

Aḥmad Tafażżoli, “‘Suvrā-ye’ Jamšid wa ‘suvrā-ya’ Żaḥḥāk,” MDAT 23/4, 1976, pp. 48-50.

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Vidēvdād 2, see Malandra. Yuhan S.-D. Vevaina, see Dēnkard, book 9, Sūdgar Nask. Otto Günther von Wesendonk, Urmensch und Seele in der iranischen Überlieferung: Ein Beitrag zur Religionsgeschichte des Hellenismus, Hannover, 1924.

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John Wilson, The Pársí Religion as Contained in the Zand-Avastá, and Propounded and Defended by the Zoroastrians of India and Persia, Unfolded, Refuted, and Contrasted with Christianity, Bombay, 1843.

Friedrich H. H. Windischmann, Ursagen der arischen Völker, Munich, 1852.

Idem, Mithra: Ein Beitrag zur Mythengeschichte des Orients, Abhandlungen für die Kunde des Morgenlandes 1, 1859.

Idem, Zoroastrische Studien: Abhandlungen zur Mythologie und Sagengeschichte des alten Iran, ed. Fr. Spiegel, Berlin, 1863.

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Zādspram, see Wizīdagīhā ī Zādspram. Robert Charles Zaehner, Zurvan: A Zoroastrian Dilemma, Oxford, 1955.

Idem, The Dawn and Twilight of Zoroastrianism, London, 1961. Zāmyād yašt, see Almut Hintze; Humbach, 1999.

Zand ī Wahman Yasn, ed. and tr. Carlo G. Cereti as The Zand ī Wahman Yasn. A Zoroastrian Apocalypse, Rome, 1995.

(PRODS OKTOR SKJÆRVØ)

Originally Published: April 10, 2012

...... ii. Jamšid in Persian Literature

JAMŠID ii. In Persian Literature

Sources all agree that he reigned for several hundred years, but they differ on the exact length of his rule.

JAMŠID

ii. JAMŠID IN PERSIAN LITERATURE

The name Jamšid often alternates in Persian poetry with the short form Jam in response to metrical requirements. It is also interpreted as such in some Islamic sources (e.g., Meskawayh, 1, p. 6; Balʿami, 1974, I, p. 130; Mojmal al-tawāriḵ, p. 25; Ebn al-Balḵi, p. 29; Ebn Esfandiār, p. 57; Mostawfi, p. 80). Sources all agree that he reigned for several hundred years, but they differ on the exact length of his rule. Ebn Qotayba (p. 652) reports it to be 960 years, while, according to Menhāj-e Serāj (I, pp. 135-36), he ruled for 400 years as a godly king and 400 years more after he was deceived by Satan. The authors of the Persian translation of Ṭabari’s Qurʾān commentary assign him 1000 years (II, p. 403), Pseudo-Ḵayyām (pp. 17-18) 800 years, but Ebn al-Balḵi (p. 30), Mojmal al-tawāriḵ (p. 39), and Faḵr-e Modabber (p. 8) 716 years. According to Abu ʿAli Moḥammad Balʿami (I, p. 131), Jamšid ruled for either 400 or 700 years; the latter figure is mentioned also in a number of other sources (e.g., Šāh- nāma I, p. 41; Ḡazāli, p. 90, Mostawfi p. 80). Abu Rayḥān Biruni (ed. Aḏkāʾi, pp. 122-23) gives Jam’s rule as 716 years according to one report and as 616 according to another, and Abu Manṣur Ṯaʿālebi (p. 17) reports 500 years.

Two narrative strands are discernable in Jamšid’s biography: the secular epic strand, in which he is the son of king Ṭahmuraṯ (e.g., Šāh-nāma, I, p. 41, v. 3; Ebn al-Faqih p. 406; Ṭusi p. 255; Mostawfi, 1362, p. 80), and the priestly or religious strand, according to which he is Ṭahmuraṯ’s brother (e.g., Balʿami, I, p. 130; Meskawayh, I, p. 6; Mojmal al-tawāriḵ, p. 25; Maqdesi, III, p. 24, tr. Šafiʿi Kadkani, I, p. 425; Pseudo-Ḵayyām, p. 17; Ebn al-Balḵi, pp. 10, 29, who also says that Jam may have been Ṭahmuraṯ’s nephew; Menhāj-e Serāj, I, p. 135; Haft laškar, p. 6; cf. Dārāb Hormazyār, I, p. 313). A number of other texts do not specify the relationship of Jamšid to Ṭahmuraṯ at all (e.g., ʿAskari, p. 411; Eṣṭaḵri, pp. 123, 150, tr. pp. 109, 141; Ḡazāli, p. 90). The secular tradition, found in the Šāh-nāma and related texts, in time overwhelmed the religious story and is also supported by Iranian oral tradition (Enjavi, II, p. 314, III, pp. 17-18).

Jamšid’s epic life-story may be divided into the period of his kingship and the period after he was deposed. Jamšid’s most coherent epic biography is found in the Šāh-nāma, according to which he was Ṭahmuraṯ’s son, succeeded his father to the throne, and proclaimed himself to be both king and priest (I, pp. 41, vv. 3-4, 8). He invented a series of important implements and institutions in the following order. He spent fifty years in inventing various weapons and armor (I, pp. 41-42, vv. 10-13), fifty in inventing weaving and tailoring (I, p. 42, vv. 14-17), fifty more in ordering his subjects into separate professions (I, p. 42, vv. 19-26, p. 43, vv. 30-31), and finally fifty more years in instituting social casts according to the functionalities that he had assigned to each group (I, p. 43, vv. 32-34). Although arranging his subjects into different professions is a different task from instituting social casts, these functionalities are often conflated in scholarship on Jamšid. He spends the next fifty years in instructing the demons, whom his father Ṭahmuraṯ had already subdued, to make bricks and buildings such as palaces and bath-houses (I, p. 43, vv. 35-38). It should be noted that, contrary to some readings of these lines, demons did not teach Jamšid how to build anything. It was rather Jamšid who, having taught them brick making (I, p. 43, v. 35), employed them in his building projects. Some demons appear to have been outside his dominion. For instance, the demon Pulādvand claims to have caused much trouble for Jamšid and a number of other kings (III, p. 270, v. 2674). Jamšid goes on to mine precious stones, establish the use of aromatics, and teach the art of medicine. He then builds ships and crosses the waters that separate the seven realms. All of these activities took another fifty years to complete (I, p. 43, vv. 39-46). Following all this, Jamšid builds himself a magnificent bejeweled throne, which he ascends and orders his demons to carry in the air on the first day of the vernal equinox. He thus institutes the festival of the New Year (Nowruz; I, p. 44, vv. 48-55). This period of creative activity lasts 250 years. During the next three hundred years Jamšid rules peacefully and his subjects neither fall sick nor die (I, p. 44, vv. 56-57). At the end of this 550 years, Jamšid grows arrogant, claims divinity, and alienates everyone (I, p. 45, vv. 65-71). He loses his royal gory (farr, q.v.), and his realm falls into chaos (I, p. 45, v. 74, p. 51, vv. 166-71). His subjects go over to the land of the Arabs, and ask Żaḥḥāk, a new and powerful Arab ruler, to come to Iran and take over Jamšid’s throne. Żaḥḥāk attacks Jamšid’s capital at the head of a large army comprised of Arabs and Persians (I, p. 51, vv. 172-78), and Jamšid, unable to resist Żaḥḥāk’s forces, escapes and disappears for one hundred years (I, p. 51, vv. 179-82). However, at the end of this period he is captured by Żaḥḥāk, who orders him to be sawed in half (ba arra-š sarāsar ba do nim kard; Šāh-nāma I, p. 52, vv. 183-86).

The longitudinal sawing of Jam’s body is suggestive of a “castration” motif (Omidsalar, 1987, p. 349, see also illustrations). Balʿami (d. 974), who must have had access to Ferdowsi’s prose archetype, corroborates Ferdowsi by reporting that the “saw was put on Jamšid’s head and he was sawed down to his legs” (Balʿami, I, p. 132). Every illustration in the Šāh-nāma Project’s data bank of miniatures (http://shahnama.caret.cam.ac.uk/) shows Jamšid being cut longitudinally with the saw blade placed on his head and worked down toward his feet. Therefore, it is not difficult to imagine that the saw is displaced upward to mask the symbolic nature of Jamšid’s castration and death. There is evidence that indicates the existence of a story about Jamšid’s death, according to which Jamšid does not react to the pain and undergoes his punishment in silence (Ḵāqāni, 1995, p. 860). Another report tells of his execution by being thrown to wild beasts who devour him (e.g., Ṯaʿālebi, p. 17). According to yet another version that must have been available to Faḵr-e Modabber in the early 13th century (ca. 1229 CE or after), he dies peacefully after a long reign (Faḵr-e Modabber, p. 8).

The Šāh-nāma has nothing to say about what happened to Jamšid in the century following his defeat. That information is provided in the Garšāsb-nāma (comp. in 458/1066) of Asadi Ṭusi, according to which (pp. 21-22), following his ouster, Jamšid is forced to live incognito, because Żaḥḥāk has ordered all the kings under his command to arrest and send him to Iran. In the course of his travels Jamšid meets the beautiful warrior daughter of king Gurang of Zābol. This princess, who is not named in the Garšāsb-nāma, but is called Paričehra in the Mojmal al-tawāriḵ (p. 25). Many kings and princes ask for her hand in marriage, but she refuses to get married because her father has authorized her to choose her own husband (Garšāsb-nāma, p. 23, v. 35) and, besides, her nursemaid has told her that she is destined to marry a great king and give birth to a heroic son (Garšāsb-nāma, p. 23). Jamšid comes upon her garden and asks for three cups of wine from one of her attendants and is taken to her. The princess falls in love with him and they begin to feast (pp. 24-27). Soon the feasting leads to a subtle flirtatious discourse centering upon two courting doves on a nearby tree that Jam and the warrior princess kill by arrows (Garšāsb-nāma, pp. 29-30). The passage is reminiscent of a similar enigmatic flirtation scene between Cuchulainn and Emer in the Irish epic Táin Bó Cúailnge (Kinsella, pp. 26-27). The nurse-maid arrives and reveals Jamšid’s identity to the princess, who confronts Jamšid with it. Jamšid denies his identity even when he is shown one of the “wanted posters” (lit. a piece of silk bearing Jamšid’s portrait) that Żaḥḥāk had sent far and wide for his arrest, and gives his name as Māhān-e Kuhi (Garšāsb-nāma, pp. 31-32, vv. 195-240). Finally, after receiving assurances that he will not be betrayed, Jamšid relents and the two quietly marry (Garšāsb-nāma, pp. 33-36). Soon the princess gets pregnant and her father, who has grown suspicious of her behavior, discovers the truth. At first he threatens to arrest Jamšid and send him to Żaḥḥāk, but he changes his mind and agrees to protect his new son-in-law (Garšāsb-nāma, pp. 36-40). Jamšid predicts that a great line of heroes will be born of his union with the princess; and that the fifth of them will be an exceptionally powerful paladin (Garšāsb-nāma, p. 41, vv. 53-56). This is somewhat contradictory to the story of Jamšid’s spiritual fall, because, although according to the Šāh-nāma, Jamšid’s farr (royal glory)—that is, the power that gives legitimate kings their magical abilities including the ability to predict future events—has left him; in the Garšāsb-nāma, Jamšid is able to foretell the future as though he still possesses his farr. Indeed, the Garšāsb-nāma makes no reference to Jamšid’s loss of his royal glory at all. In time, Jamšid’s wife gives birth to a son whom they name Tur; and although the king tries to keep Jamšid’s marriage to his daughter a secret by claiming that the baby is his own son (Garšāsb-nāma, p. 42, v. 5), the boy’s resemblance to Jamšid’s many wanted posters betray his true paternity (Garšāsb-nāma, p. 43, vv. 8-9). Rumors about Jamšid grow, and king Gurang advises him to leave lest Żaḥḥāk’s spies find out his whereabouts (Garšāsb-nāma, p. 43, vv. 13-16). Jamšid leaves Zābolestān and travels first to India, and later to China, but he is captured and surrendered to Żaḥḥāk, who orders him sawed in half. Informed of his death, Jamšid’s wife commits suicide after a month of mourning (Garšāsb-nāma, pp. 43- 44).

Although the Garšāsb-nāma gives the impression that Jamšid was killed immediately after his arrest, according to the Kuš-nāma (comp. ca. 501/1108) of Irānšāh b. Abi’l-Ḵayr, he lived for fifty years in Żaḥḥāk’s prison before his execution (p. 189, v. 740). Jamšid’s son, Tur, ascends the throne of Zābolestān following his maternal grandfather’s death. His progeny all resemble their ancestor Jamšid in appearance and physical prowess (e.g., Garšāsb-nāma, p. 49, v. 81, p. 52, vv. 30-31, p. 244, v. 62). Apparently the reason Jamšid’s progeny turn out to be such powerful heroes is that he was quite physically powerful himself and could kill any kind of wild beast by his bare hands (Ebn Balḵi, p. 30).

There are quite a few variations on the Šāh-nāma story of Jamšid’s life and personality. Aside from the princess of Zābolestān, who is mentioned in the Garšāsb-nāma, Jamšid had a number of wives and many children. He had married a Chinese princess because, according to the Kuš-nāma, following Żaḥḥāk’s attack, Jamšid sends his wife, the daughter of the king of China, along with his two sons, Fārak and Nunak, to a forest in China (Irānšāh, 1998, pp. 187-88). Once assured of his family’s safety, he rides against the Indian king Mehrāj at the head of a great army. Unfortunately, the single manuscript of the Kuš-nāma has a large lacuna here and the narrative suddenly jumps to the scene of Jamšid’s execution (pp. 188-90). Jamšid’s adventures in India and his wars with the Indian king are also mentioned in the Mojmal al-tawāriḵ (p. 40), which although gives no more details at least corroborates the Kuš-nāma’s version. According to the Šāh-nāma, a number of paladins aside from the hero Garšāsb/Garšāsp descend from Jamšid (III, p. 289, vv. 21- 22). A group of these are called Jamšidiān (Šāh-nāma, V, p. 90, v. 143), the most famous of whom are the descendants of king Lohrāsb/Lohrāsp (IV, p. 360, v. 2,947). This accounts for the fact that Jamšid’s pavilion, weapons, and other possessions are later found in the possession of Lohrāsb’s descendants (e.g., Šāh-nāma V, p. 106, v. 309, p. 141, v. 710, p. 366, v. 883, p. 367, v. 890). The epics composed after the Šāh-nāma confirm this and tell us that Lohrāsb’s great grandson Bahman owned Jamšid’s pavilion (sarā-parda; Irānšāh, 1991, p. 549, vv. 9,452, 9461, cf. Haft laškar, p. 549). In the Farāmarz-nāma (q.v.), the hero Farāmarz is mentioned as a Jamšid descendant (Farāmarz-nāma, pp. 59-60, vv. 72-91, p. 107: vv. 794- 95), and we are also told that Bižan (q.v.), during his adventures, came upon the burial chamber of one of Jamšid’s lesser known son, Nušzād (Farāmarz-nāma, pp. 87-88, vv. 510-14). Some authorities report that one of Jamšid’s descendents was in Noah’s arc (Balʿami, 1974, I, p. 146; Menhāj-e Serāj, I, p. 137). Among the later Iranian rulers, Yaʿqub b. Layṯ (r. 861-79) is said to have traced his lineage to him (Tāriḵ-e Sistān, pp. 201-2).

Jamšid is described as a man quite handsome, luminous (e.g., Tarjama-ye Tafsir-e Ṭabari II, p. 402; Qaṭrān, pp. 367, 525), and huge enough to receive the epithet piltan “immense” (lit. “of elephant-like body”; Ḵāqāni, 1995, p. 74), which is ordinarily reserved for his heroic descendants Rostam and Esfandiār in the Šāh-nāma. He was physically powerful (e.g., Ebn al-Balḵi, p. 30), and rode a black horse when he was not being carried around by demons (Sanāʾi, p. 72; Faḵr-e Modabber, p. 185). There may have been a story about his invulnerability to which Ḵāqāni alludes (1995, p. 69). Indeed, a folk version of his capture and death confirms his invulnerability (see below). Another story in the Bustān of Saʿdi alludes to Jamšid’s sorrow for loss of one of his children, but it is not clear if the story is original or was created by Saʿdi in order to make a moral point (Saʿdi, 1363, p. 186 vv. 3,679-82). Unlike the great kings and heroes of old, Jamšid seems to have had a special place in the popular imagination of classical Iran. This may be partly because he was associated with the prophet Solomon, and partly because of his association with the ruins of Persepolis. Ebn al-Balḵi, the author of the Fārs-nāma, who must have seen these ruins considers many of the images that depict various Achaemenid kings to have been representations of Jamšid (Ebn al-Balḵi, p. 127). Others must have thought the same.

Jamšid’s character as an originator of social customs is implied in many literary sources in which certain rites are said to have been practiced according to his “rule.” He is viewed as the founder of funerary rites. For instance, the hero Garšāsb orders that his corpse “be dressed according to the prescriptions of Jamšid” (bapuš-am ba jāma bar āyin-e Jam) before he is placed in his tomb (Garšāsb-nāma, p. 465, v. 51). Since Zoroastrians expose their dead rather than enshroud or bury them, and since Jamšid’s practice in this verse implies entombment without a hint of exposure, the verse may be cited as an indication of Jamšid’s pre-Zoroastrian character. Jamšid’s rules must have included marriage law as well. In the story of Bahrām V Gōr (q.v.), the hero marries the daughters of Borzin “according to the customs of Gayumart and Jamšid” (Šāh-nāma VI, p. 483, v. 874).

A number of important discoveries and inventions are ascribed to him in addition to what is mentioned in the Šāh-nāma. Some of these are: millstones and water wheel (Ṯaʿālebi, pp. 8-9), astronomy and glass- making (Maqdesi, III, p. 140, tr. Šafiʿi Kadkani, I, p. 500), talc paper (zar-waraq; Ebn al-Balḵi, p. 32), roads and paint (Balʿami, 1974, I, p. 130), dyeing (Gardizi, p. 2), sugar (ʿAskari, p. 411; Biruni, p. 266), writing (Ebn al-Nadim p. 15, tr. p. 23), different languages (Mojmal al- tawāriḵ, p. 145), and locks and keys, as well as domestication of the elephant (Menhāj-e Serāj, I, p. 135). He is said to have built a large number of cities such as Hamadān, Eṣṭaḵr, Ctesiphon (q.v.), and Ṭus (Maqdesi, IV, p. 99, tr. Šafiʿi Kadkani, II, p. 616; Ebn al-Balḵi pp. 32, 34; Mojmal al-tawāriḵ, pp. 40, 521; Qomi, pp. 60, 73-77; Mostawfi, p. 81; Gardizi, p. 2), and is also credited with creating important waterworks in the city of Fin in Kāšan and elsewhere (Qomi, p. 77; Maqdesi, IV, p. 60, tr. Šafiʿi Kadkani, II, p. 594). The founding of a number of holy fires are also attributed to Jamšid (e.g., Ṭusi, p. 74; Qomi, p. 88; Gorgāni, p. 358). One of the most important of his innovations is wine, the story of which is associated with a charming narrative that concerns one of his concubines (Ṭusi, pp. 15-16; ʿAwfi, pp. 30-31; Moʿin I, p. 433). It may be deduced from the wording of the Šāh-nāma that Jamšid’s invention of wine was known to Ferdowsi, because he is the first king in the epic to engage in feasting with wine (Šāh-nāma I, p. 44, v. 54). Frequent allusion to his connection with wine throughout Persian literature implies that the story of his invention of wine, though not explicitly stated in the Šāh-nāma, must have been quite well-known (e.g., Manučehri, pp. 18, 120; Moḵtāri, p. 486; Ḵāqāni, 1995, p. 661; see also Moʿin, I, pp. 433-35).

Because of his long reign and association with absolute dominion, Jamšid’s name is paired with “royal glory” and the concept of the ideal kingship in the Šāh-nāma (e.g., II, p. 406, vv. 347-48, V, p. 454, v. 182, VII, p. 16, v. 9, VIII, p. 203, v. 2,664), post-Šāh-nāma epics (e.g., Garšāsb-nāma, p. 417, v. 13; Zartošt-e Bahrām, p. 7; Bānugošasb-nāma, p. 111), as well as Persian court poetry (e.g., Farroḵi, p. 411; ʿOnṣori, p. 202; Moḵtāri, p. 618; Ḵāqāni, 1995, p. 618; Qaṭrān, p. 473; Ašraf, p. 142; Anwari, I, p. 96) and prose (e.g., Ebn al-Balḵi, p. 30; Lāhuri, p. 60). Perhaps his reputation as the ideal king is responsible for his further association with wisdom in the Šāh- nāma, where frequent reference is made to his dicta (e.g., VI, p. 250, v. 107, VII, p. 34 v. 37), and a number of other Persian and Arabic texts (cf. Faḵr-al-Din Gorgāni, p. 320, v. 20; Saʿdi, 1363, p. 52, vv. 478-80, p. 186 vv. 3679-82; Moḥammadi, IV, pp. 315-18). He is also associated with the worship of the sun in the Šāh-nāma (e.g., V, p. 77, v. 22, p. 83, v. 69). It is not, however, clear whether the pairing of Jamšid and Ḵoršid “the sun” in the epic and other poetry (e.g., Farroḵi, p. 132; Qaṭrān pp. 390, 473 and esp. p. 525; Sanāʾi, p. 500; Moʿezzi p. 170; Moḵtāri, p. 618; Faḵr-al-Din Gorgāni, p. 25, v. 12; Suzani, p. 228; Ḵāqāni, 2006, p. 86, vv. 10-11, p. 174 v. 7; Ašraf, p. 142; Jamāl-al-Din Moḥammad b. ʿAbd-al-Razzāq p. 373; Mādeḥ, p. 144; Ḵᵛāju, p. 24) is motivated by requirements of meter and rhyme, by the memory of his flying towards the sun in the pre-Islamic religious tradition (see above), or by something else.

Jamšid’s grand throne, made for him by the demons, is already mentioned in the Šāh-nāma (I, p. 44, vv. 48-51) and other Persian poetry. The famous throne of Ṭāqdis, which was one of the prized possessions of Ḵosrow II Parvēz (r. 591-628), is also said to have been originally built by Jamšid (Mojmal al-tawāriḵ, p. 79). He is also said to have left behind several great treasures, one of which was later discovered by Bahrām Gōr (Šāh-nāma VI, pp. 459-60, p. 562, v. 596). A fantastic animal called Gorg-e guyā, “the speaking wolf,” tells of a great treasure that was hidden by Jamšid in a vast cave built for him by the demons and fairies under his command, and that he had ordered this wolf to guard it. The beast tells of Jamšid’s many hidden treasures, and later the hero Bižan finds one of the hordes that contains Jamšid’s own crown (Farāmarz-nāma, pp. 82-84). Perhaps Jamšid’s most famous magical implements are his wine cup and his ring. Yet, his wine cup is mentioned neither in the Šāh-nāma nor in the works of early poets and appears to be a later development, probably from the middle of the 6th/12th century. In all likelihood it was formed under the influence of Kay Ḵosrow’s magical cup and the similarity of the word jām (cup) with the name Jam which would be tempting to Persian poets. Jām-e Jam (Jam’s cup) is said to have magical properties that helped the owner to either achieve dominion over the world (e.g., Moʿezzi, p. 491) or enabled him to see the unseen and forecast the future (e.g., Ḵᵛāju, p.55; Moʿin, II, p. 300). Mystics reinterpreted the cup as a metaphor for the heart and the soul (Moʿin II, pp. 302-6). Farid-al-Din ʿAṭṭār uses it as a metaphor for the divine tablet on which all is written (ʿAṭṭār, 1983, p. 122, v. .2, p. 213, v. 5). Ḥāfeẓ employs similar metaphors (e.g., I, p. 112, v. 5 and p. 244 v. 1).

Whereas Jamšid’s cup is not mentioned in the Šāh-nāma, his ring is explicitly mentioned in a manner that proves that it was part of his legend in the Iranian heroic tradition (II, p. 6, v. 50). The Šāh-nāma also alludes to the ring indirectly (I, p. 51, v. 178) and it is further mentioned in the verses of at least two Ghaznavid poets (ʿOnṣori, pp. 202, 229; Sanāʾi, p. 83). Therefore, although it may be tempting to consider Jam’s ring as an Iranian manifestation of the famous ring of king Solomon that has been referred to in many religious and legendary texts (e.g., Neysāburi p. 305), and although there must have been some influence from that direction, the objects are common enough and magically potent enough to have grown independently in the Iranian and the Jewish narrative traditions. In other words, because of the similarities between the legends of Solomon and Jamšid in their respective traditions, aspects of these narratives, including that of the magical ring, may have coalesced in the absence of a genetic relationship. Not only are similarities between Solomon and Jamšid noted in classical sources (e.g., Ebn Qotayba, p. 652; Maqdesi, III, pp. 106-7, tr. Šafiʿi Kadkani, I, pp. 474- 75; Eṣṭaḵri, p. 123, tr. p. 109), but also often personages or objects of their respective courts are paired in Persian poetry (e.g., Farroḵi, pp. 226, 242; Masʿud-e Saʿd, I, p. 484; Moʿezzi, pp. 43, 478; Ḵāqāni, 1995, pp. 23, 70; Sanāʾi, pp. 375, 500; Qaṭrān, p. 167; Anwari, I, pp. 171, 274). Be that as it may, there may be no doubt that the two legends have merged in the Iranian tradition. For instance, the story of Solomon’s encounter with the king of the ants that has been alluded to in the Qurʾān (27:18) and is quite well known from other religious literature (e.g., Neysāburi, pp. 287-88) is attributed to Jamšid in Ḵāqāni’s Divān (pp. 166, 904) as is the story of Solomon’s loss of his ring to the demon Ašmodai (see Krappe; Shaked; and motif K1934.1 “Impostor [magician, demon] takes the place of the king”; see Thompson) in spite of the fact that Jamšid’s loss of his throne to Żaḥḥāk, unlike Solomon’s loss of his throne to Ašmodai, was quite final (see Ḵāqāni, 1995, pp. 86, 422; Anwari, I, p. 331, II, p. 643; Ḵᵛāju, p. 85). Interestingly enough Ḵāqāni ascribes all the details of Solomon’s fall and his employment as a fisherman during the period of his exile to Jamšid (1995, pp. 422, 425; cf. Neysāburi, pp. 303-6). There is reason to believe that what gave Jamšid’s ring its potency was the formula that was written on its stone (ʿOnṣori, pp. 202, 229; Moḵtāri, pp. 317, 345, 552; Sanāʾi p. 500; Anwari, I, p. 339) and that the ring’s gemstone may have been green (Anwari, I, p. 7; cf. Šahidi, p. 40).

Jamšid has three functionality in Persian folklore. On the one hand, his name, usually in the form of Malek Jamšid, is a common name for the main hero of various folktales. In that general sense, the name has no connection with the Jamšid of the Šāh-nāma. Thus, Vladimir Minorski’s suggestion that the Jamšid mentioned in the Vis o Rāmin (p. 138, v. 50, p. 146, v. 31), which has all the hallmarks of a literary version of a folk story, is necessarily the famous Jamšid of the Šāh- nāma may not be taken at face value without corroborating evidence (see Gorgāni, p. 426). Jamšid also appears in a series of folktales that are derived from the Šāh-nāma narratives. These tales tend to elaborate upon certain Šāh-nāma scenes or persona. For instance, whereas in the Šāh-nāma version of Zāl’s story an unnamed “man from the land of Indians” appears to Zāl’s father in a dream and informs him of the whereabouts of his son (I, p. 168, vv. 93-95), according to the oral versions of this tale, the man in the dream is Jamšid (Enjavi, I, p. 67). Similarly, whereas the Šāh-nāma provides no explanation about why Żaḥḥāk kills Jamšid by sawing him in half rather than by a more conventional means of dispatch (I, p. 52, v. 186), the folk version of the story explains that Żaḥḥāk first tried killing his captive by the sword, but, because Jamšid was invulnerable, he could not be killed by the blade. Later, the devil appeared in as an old man and informed the tyrant that Jamšid could be killed only by being cut asunder with a saw (Enjavi, II, pp. 303-4). There are a number of interesting features of Jamšid’s legend in the ṭumārs (scrolls) of the naqqāls (story-teller). These scrolls, which narrate idiosyncratic versions of Iranian epic literature in prose, are primarily derived from the Šāh-nāma and extra Šāh-nāma texts; but they also freely mix the literary narratives with elements adopted from Persian folklore (see Omidsalar and Omidsalar). For instance, the story of Jamšid’s fall, which in the Šāh-nāma merely precedes Żaḥḥāk’s appearance, is made into a prerequisite of Żaḥḥāk’s legend in one of these scrolls. According to the Haft laškar, the very moment when Jamšid begins to entertain the idea of claiming divinity is the moment when “Żaḥḥāk is conceived” (Haft laškar, p. 7). Similarly, although the Garšāb-nāma tells of how the princess of Zābolestān recognized Jamšid from having seen the “wanted posters” that Żaḥḥāk had sent far and wide, according to the Haft laškar, she had already fallen in love with his picture before she ever laid eyes on him (motif T11.2. “Love through sight of picture”; see Thompson).

It is interesting that although Jamšid is held responsible for his sin in the Zoroastrian priestly tradition, which sends him to hell and forgives him only grudgingly (Dārāb Hormozyār, II, pp. 208-9), he has been totally rehabilitated in Persian literature and folklore. Thus, aside from the many positive references to his character that abounds in Persian literature, the Haft laškar portrays him as a saint with special knowledge of the activities and mission of the Shiʿite messiah (Haft laškar, pp. 133-14).

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Awḥad-al-Din Moḥammad Anwari, Divān-e Anwari, 2 vols., ed. Moḥammad-Taqi Modarres Rażawi, 3rd ed., Tehran, 1985.

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Abu’l-Qāsem Ḥasan ʿOnṣori, Divān-e ʿOnṣori Balḵi, ed. Moḥammad Dabirsiāqi, 2nd ed., Tehran, 1984.

Abu Manṣur Qaṭrān Tabrizi, Divān-e Ḥakim Qaṭrān Tabrizi, ed. Moḥammad Naḵjavāni, Tehran, 1983.

Ḥasan b. Moḥammad Qomi, Tāriḵ-e Qom, Pers. tr. Ḥasan b. ʿAli Qomi, ed. Sayyed Jalāl-al-Din Ṭehrāni, 2nd ed., Tehran, 1982.

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Abu’l-Majd Majdud b. Ādam Sanāʾi, Divān-e Ḥakim Abu’l-Majd Majdud b. Ādam Sanāʾi Ḡaznavi, ed. Moḥammad-Taqi Modarres Rażawi, 3rd ed., Tehran, 1983.

Mahindoḵt Ṣediqiān, Farhang-e asāṭiri-ḥamāsi-e Irān ba rewāyat-e manābeʿ-e baʿd az Eslām I, Tehran, 1976, pp. 76-125.

Shaul Shaked, “Iranian Influences on Judaism: First Century B.C.E. to Second Century C.E.,” in Willliam D. Davies and Louis Finkelstein, eds., Cambridge History of Judaism I, Cambridge, 1984, pp. 308-26.

Suzani Samarqandi, Divān-e Ḥakim Suzani Samarqandi, ed. Nāṣer Šāh-Ḥosayni, Tehran, 1959.

Abu Manṣur ʿAbd-al-Malek Ṯaʿālebi, Ḡorar aḵbār moluk al-fors, ed. Hermann Zotenberg as Histoir des rois des Perses, Paris, 1900.

Tāriḵ-e Sistān, ed. Moḥammad-Taqi Malek-al-Šoʿarāʾ Bahār, Tehran, ca. 1935; tr. Milton Gold as The Tārikh-e Sistān, Rome, 1976.

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Moḥammad b. Maḥmud Ṭusi, ʿAjāyeb al-maḵluqāt wa ḡarāyeb al- mawjudāt, ed. Manučehr Sotuda, 2nd ed., Tehran, 2003.

Zartošt-e Bahrām-e Paždu, Zartošt-nāma, ed. F. Rosenberg as The Book of Zoroaster: Zarātusht Nāma, rev. ed. by Moḥammad Dabirsiāqi, Tehran, 1959.

(Mahmoud Omidsalar)

Originally Published: December 15, 2008

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YUSOF son of the biblical patriarch Jacob. The story of Joseph has always been a source of attractive subject matters for the exegetists of the Qurʾān, poets, miniaturists, and popular tales. See JOSEPH.

JOSEPH

(Ar. Yusof), son of the biblical patriarch Jacob. The story of Joseph has always been a source of attractive subject matters for the exegetists of the Qurʾān, poets, miniaturists, and popular tales.

JOSEPH (Yusof). The story of Joseph is described in the Qurʾān (12.3) as the most beautiful of stories (aḥsan al-qeṣaṣ). As a graphic romance of love and adversity, of an innocent boy of incomparable beauty sold into slavery by his own brothers, his rise as a young righteous young man from unjust imprisonment to the highest office in Egypt, his wisdom in running the state affairs, and his generous reconciliation with his brothers, it has always been a source of attractive subject matters for the exegetists of the Qurʾān, poets, miniaturists, and popular tales. This entry is divided into three sub- entries: i. In Persian literature

JOSEPH i. IN PERSIAN LITERATURE

As a love story with religious overtones, the romance of Yusof and Zolayḵā has always been among the very favorite themes of Persian poets.

JOSEPH

i. IN PERSIAN LITERATURE

As a love story with religious overtones, the romance of Yusof and Zolayḵā has always been among the very favorite themes of Persian poets who, with direct or oblique references to its various episodes, created a desired imagery, expanded on a particular point in the poem, conveyed a poetic meassage or reinforced it. For instance, a poet may use the sale of Joseph into slavary by his jealous brothers to create the impression that “there is no replacement for a beloved” and, at the same time, articulate his/her own emotional feelings towards the beloved (Qurʾān 12.20; Surābādi, pp. 1110-17; Abu’l- Fotuḥ Rāzi, VI, p. 356; Saʿdi, ḡazal 585, v. 12; Ḥāfeẓ, ḡazal 211, v. 7; see also, Šamisā, pp. 625-26). In some cases, a king, or even a vizier, has been likened to Joseph in order to highlight the hardship that he had endured before coming to power and, at the same time, to make a clever allusion to his status as a person who is divinly anointed like a prophet (see, e.g., Abu Ḥanifa Eskāfi, in Bayhaqi, p. 283, v. 14, referring to Sultan Masʿud Ḡaznavi’s defeat of his brother; Sanāʾi, p. 506, vv. 10-11, alluding to Bahrāmšāh Ḡaznavi’s problems with his brother; Najm-al-Din Rāzi, p. 36, commentaries, p. 568, in reference to the Saljuqid ʿAlāʾ-al-Din Kayqobād’s imprisonment; Ḥāfeẓ, ghazal 242, v. 5, an allusion to the Mozaffarid Shah Manṣur’s rise to power; idem, ghazal, 9, v. 9, referring to the imprisonment of Jalāl-al-Din Turānšāh, the Mozaffarid vizier, and his return to the vizierate).

The representation of Joseph in Persian literature will be treated in two separate sections in this article. The first one will focus on the episodes of the story in various genres of Persian poetry, specially in ḡazals and qaṣidas (q.v.), while the second section will be devoted to introducing the versified narratives of Yusof and Zolayḵā.

In genres of Persian poetry. This section, in terms of the poet’s exoteric or esoteric approach, will be divided into three periods: naturalistic exotericism, aphoristic-religious esotericism, and Sufi/mystic esotericism.

A) Exoteric poetry. In this genre, the poem usually starts with a cheerful description of nature leading to a panegyric. It rarely implies any sense beyond the literal meaning of the phraseology used. It is a laudatory instrument, through which the poet often explicitly, and occasionally by implication, compares to Joseph the object of his panegyric in traits that Joseph is usually considered exemplary of (e.g., physical beauty, benevolence, noble temperament, deeds, sagacity, etc.). A poet may employ this comparison in an obviously exaggerated sense, referring, for instance, to his object of praise as the true incarnation of Joseph (e.g., ʿOnṣori, p. 186, v. 6; Purnāmdāriān, p. 8), or saying that the weather is so nice that it can cure blindness, as the scent of Joseph’s shirt cured Jacob’s blind eyes (ʿOnṣori, p. 73, v. 13). Farroḵi Sistāni (q.v.), panegyrizing Amir Abu Moḥammad Ḡaznavi, has called him the true successor of Joseph in cleansing the world of its defects and shortcomings (Farroḵi, p. 418).

Allusions or direct references to the story of Joseph is only occasionally encountered in the panegyrics of the early Ḵorāsāni- style poets, that is, up to the end of the 10th century (e.g., Farroḵi, Monjik Termeḏi, Abu Ḥanifa Eskāfi, and ʿAṭā Rāzi, once in each; ʿOnṣori, twice; Manu-čehri, three times). Then, due to the spread of religious ideas and narratives, references to various episodes of the Joseph story increase. For instance, there are twenty-two explicit mentions of the story in the divān of the fifth-century poet Qaṭrān Tabrizi (e.g., pp. 3, 4, 40, 73, 134, 145, 158), mostly as an exaggerated point in a panegyric; but, a century later, we find seventy-eight such implicit, figurative, and explicit references in the poetry of Ḵāqāni Šarvāni/Šervāni (Ḵāqāni, index, p. 1078).

B) Aphoristic, religious esoteric literature. With the end of the period that is called the golden age of Iranian culture in the Islamic period (Frye, tr., pp. 116-17), the age of rationalism in Iran gave way to that of the so-called philosophy based on the principles of religion. Kalām, or theology, which is considered the philosophical defense of religion, employed intellectual discourse in the service of religion and overshadowed philosophy based on rational reasoning (Dādbeh, pp. 48-49). Aristotelian philosophy was relegated to the realm of myths and legends, and the philosophy of Plato was considered outdated and worn out (Ḵāqāni, p. 172, vv. 20-21). An antagonistic view of rationalism and Greek philosophy, which was the motto of theologians (motakallemun), found its way into Persian poetry (e.g., Nāṣer-e Ḵosrow, 2001, pp. 234, v. 1, 257, vv. 8-9, 490, v. 8). Thus, authors of aphoristic poetry, made the most of stories with religious content, including the biographical notices about prophets, particularly the story of Joseph. Thus, there appeared a new genre of poetry that has been referred to as religious (dini, šarʿi), aphoristic (ḥekmi) poetry.

The most distinguished poets of this genre are the Ismāʿili poet Nāṣer-e Ḵosrow Qobādiāni (d. 1088), Ḵāqāni Šarvāni (d. ca. 1198), and Neẓāmi Ganjavi (d. ca. 1217). Nāṣer-e Ḵosrow has used the rejuvenation of Zolayḵā with a prayer of Joseph for a figurative description of the aging nature (i.e., in winter) that is revitalized and youthful in spring (Nāṣer-e Ḵosrow, 2001, p. 416, vv. 4, 14; Purnāmdāriān, p. 30). The same theme is employed more creatively in a verse by Saʿdi, where the rose with its beauty in the meadow is likened to Joseph ruling Egypt, while the spring breeze spreads its fragrance (lit. the scent of his shirt) across the city (ʿAziz-e Meṣr-e čaman šod jamāl-e Yusof-e gol / Ṣabā ba šahr darāvard bu-ye pirhan-aš).

Elsewhere Nāṣer-e Ḵosrow compares the effects of his own poetry on Persian to the prayer of Joseph. In other words, his poetry has revitalized Persian in the same way that Joseph’s incantation (afsun) restored Zolayḵā’s youth (Ba man tāza šod pažmorida soḵan / Čo za’fsun-e Yusof Zolayḵā-ye pir). The scent of Joseph’s shirt that restored Jacob’s eyesight provides Nāṣer-e Ḵosrow with a metaphorical point that he uses to symbolize religion as a shirt that looks clean, new, and attractive on the learned, but a torn-out coarse piece of cloth full of holes on the ignorant (Nāṣer-e Ḵosrow, 2001, p. 265, vv. 3-5). Following this theme, he compares the shirt of Joseph to religion and the restoration of Jacob’s eyesight to wisdom and sagacity. Thus, it was Jacob’s religion and his religiosity that were the source of his knowledge and wisdom. In conclusion, the reader is encouraged to wear the shirt that the prophet Moḥammad has brought forth, which is following his religion (Nāṣer-e Ḵosrow, 2001, p. 265, vv. 3-5). In order to reinforce his final point, he refers to the romance of Bižan and Maniža in the Šāh-nāma, and the imprisonment of Bižan in a dungeon (lit. čāh “well”). He then likens following carnal desires (e.g., gluttony, laziness, lust) to being imprisoned like a captive in a deep well (Nāṣer-e Ḵosrow, 2001, p. 176, v. 5; Pur-nām-dāriān, p. 34), in order to conclude that the heavenly soul of man in the body is just a prisoner in the dungeon of this world (Nāṣer-e Ḵosrow, 2001, pp. 304, vv. 3-4), and its only salvation is through recourse to wisdom and knowledge (Nāṣer-e Ḵosrow, 2001, pp. 400, vv. 8-9).

Ḵāqāni Šarvāni, a poet with poetical idioms and imagery of his own, makes frequent use of various aspects of the story of Joseph to elaborate his phraseology and to develop and drive across a poetical point (Dašti, pp. 19-20). For instance, he refers to the perfidious behavior of Joseph’s brothers to highlight the duplicity of his own associates and to criticize it (Ḵāqāni, p. 62, v. 10). In the same vein, in order to criticize the prevalent injustice, in a metaphorical reference to the theme of Joseph and the wolf, he portrays the general condition of the time as the wolf of hearts (gorg-e delhā) in order to articulate the grievance of the people of piety, whom he refers to as Joseph of hearts (Yusof-e delhā; Ḵāqāni, p. 535, v. 6; see also, pp. 25, v. 6, 62, v.10, 124, v. 3 [grieving], pp. 297, v. 7, 324, vv. 8-9 [longing], pp. 607, v. 15, 672, v. 13 [description of the beloved], p. 629, v. 13 [expressing one’s love]). He often generalizes a point to enrich it with connotations and covert references by the use of symbolic and metaphorical expressions, which is more noticeable in the poems containing a mention of Joseph’s story. Three poems are noteworthy in this connection: In a poem complaining about the sufferings and deprivations that he has endured, he calls himself an Alexander failing to find the Water of Life and a Joseph left waiting in the Egypt of expectations, but never finding his desired Canaan in spite of exerting every effort (Dar Meṣr-e enteẓār čo Yusof bemānda- am / Besyār jahd kard-am o Kanʿān nayāft-am). In another poem, in a metaphorical reference to the happy life of Joseph after suffering in a well, he mentions the arduous crossing of the desert before the pilgrim reaches Mecca, and, with an allusion to the Qurʾān (94.5), creates an image illustrating the virtues of being patient and steadfast (Ḵāqāni, p. 97, vv. 9-10; Foruzānfar, Šarḥ-e Maṯnawi I, p. 78). In another poem, he uses the story of Joseph to elaborate on the theme of a Qurʾānic verse (2.156): “To God we belong and to Him we return,” which is the favorite subject matter in Sufi literature. As Joseph was kept in a prison, the soul is a prisoner in the physical cage of the body and this dismal world of matter (Ḵāqāni, p. 324, vv. 8-9; cf. Rumi, I, v. 4).

C) Sufi and mystical esotericism. Mysticism and Sufism (used as synonyms in this paper) are the expression of spiritual and intuitive interpretation of religious ideas through the symbolic and metaphorical application of terms, which, according to the mystics, signifies the true sense of words. The exertion of effort by the pilgrim on the Path (sālek) is for the perception of those true meanings (Jorjāni, p. 41). With the metaphorical and symbolic use of the key terms (well, prison, Egypt, Zolayḵā, etc.) in the story of Joseph, they describe the descent of the soul from Godhead, its imprisonment in the physical cage (body) in the material world, and its final salvation through self-mortification (see, e.g., Ebn Sinā, vv. 10-11; Sabzavāri, pp. 275-90; Najm-al-Din Rāzi, pp. 111 ff.). Thus, the story of Joseph in the well and his imprisonment are turned into a symbolic description of the downward journey of the soul in stages into the body in the prison of this world of matter. Joseph bears a great deal of hardships (the self-mortification of the pilgrim) before his knowledge of dream interpretation leads to his release from the prison and his investment with the highest office in Egypt, as the intuitive knowledge of the mystic pilgrim brings the soul to the world of Reality to realize his optimum desire (joining Zolayḵā). This is the general outline that poets with mystical orientation have employed allegorically according to their own styles and modes of expression. For instance, Abu’l-Majd Sanāʾi (d. ca. 1124), in an ode, uses desert (ṣaḥrā) as the symbol of the transcendental world (the world of Reality) vis-à-vis the material world (the well) or the body (the prison), in which the soul is kept prisoner (Sanāʾi, Divān, p. 492, vv. 7-8). Elsewhere he refers to the scent of Joseph or of his shirt as the divine breath (dam-e elāhi, nafḵa) or the inner soul (ruḥ-e bāṭen), which has been lost to man, as Joseph was to Jacob (Divān, p. 412, v. 4; cf. p. 464, v. 4). He exhorts that it would be unbecoming of man, who carries the divine soul (lit. has the Joseph of Egypt as companion), to be subservient to Satan and absorbed by its ungodly manifestations (Divān, pp. 464, v. 3, 468, v. 1; see also Purnāmdāriān, pp. 42-43).

Joseph’s story in other Sufi works is mostly along the same lines as that which one finds in the poetry of Sanāʾi, distinct only in terms of the imagery and poetic expressions. For instance, Shaikh Farid-al- Din ʿAṭṭār (d. 1221, q.v.) refers to the transcendental world as Meṣr-e jān (the Egypt/city of souls), Meṣr-e ʿālam-e jān, and Meṣr-e ʿezzat (the Egypt/city of glory; Divān, p. 828, p. 5; Moṣibat-nāma, pp. 134, v. 19, 175, v. 18; Manṭeq al-ṭayr, p. 37, v. 659). According to him, the Joseph of soul, which must return to the Meṣr-e jān from his captivity in the abyss of this world, succeeds in this pursuit only when he has replaced the lascivious spirit (nafs-e ammāra) by the Solomon of pure soul on the throne of his existence (ʿAṭṭār, Asrār-nāma, p. 99, vv. 1605-09). Thus, he will be able to release the truthful Joseph of pure soul from this dusty residence and set him on the throne in the Egypt of glory (ʿAṭṭār, Manṭeq al-ṭayr, p. 37, vv. 656-59). Elsewhere, ʿAṭṭār uses Joseph as the symbol of the beloved in the profane love of those who consider divine love, which is the one and only true love, beyond the reach of man (ʿAṭṭār, Manṭeq al-ṭayr, pp. 58-60, vv. 1035- 37, 1043-55; Foruzānfar, Šarḥ-e aḥwāl, p. 360). In most mystical interpretations of the story, however, Joseph, or the human soul, is able to be in command of the higher universe through self mortification, and that is when the soul that has reached perfection leaves its physical prison and returns to its original abode (Dārābi, p. 40).

The first version is the one that is attributed to Ferdowsi (q.v.) by some copyist (q.v.; Ṣafā, I, p. 490), a view taken at face value by a number of scholars, including Theodore Nöldeke (tr. ʿAlawi, pp. 53- 54), Hermann Ethé (pp. 58-59), and Edward G. Browne (II, pp. 146- 47, III, p. 532). Some scholars have considered such attribution only a possibility (Ritter, pp. 39-40; Mortażawi, p. 158). More recent scholarship, however, has demonstrated that the attribution of this work to Ferdowsi is totally unfounded (Minovi, pp. 48-49; Ṣafā, I, pp. 489-90; Ḥāfeẓ Širāni, 1968, pp. 310 ff.; Riāḥi, p. 104; Mortażawi, pp. 157-81). It is the work of a poet known probably by the name of Amāni or Šamsi, who composed it for his patron, Šams-al-Din Ṭoḡānšāh b. Alp Arslān Saljuqi, who had released the poet from the prison “in which he had been held like Joseph” (Minovi, pp. 49-68; Nafisi, I, pp. 41, 53-54).

A versified romance of Yusof and Zolayḵā has been attributed to the poet ʿAmʿaq Boḵārāʾi (d. 1147-48, q.v.) by some biographers, but it has been lost. It could reportedly be read in two different meters (Dawlatšāh, p. 64; Āḏar Bigdeli, p. 330; Faḵri Heravi, p. 17; Awḥadi, p. 696; Hedāyat, I, p. 880; Ṣafā, II, p. 541).

The most celebrated versified rendering of this romance is the Yusof o Zolayḵā by Nur-al-Din ʿAbd-al-Raḥmān Jāmi (d. 1492, q.v.), who composed it in 1483. It follows the meter of Neẓāmi Ganjavi’s Ḵosrow o Širin and forms the fifth poem in the poet’s collection of seven maṯnawis known as Haft owrang “Seven thrones” (Jāmi, II, pp. 20- 205; Ṣafā, IV, p. 360). The romance ends in the union and the eventual death of both protagonists. It was edited with metrical German translation by Vincez Edlem von Rosenweig (Vienna, 1824). There are also two English renderings done by R. T. H. Griffith and A. Rogers rendered in the late 19th century (Browne, III, pp. 516, 531- 32).

We have another versified version of the story from the 15th century, composed by Ḵᵛāja Masʿud Qomi (d. 1490), a poet on the entourage of Amir ʿAli-Šir Navāʾi. It is a maṯnawi of 3,900 verses based on the thirty-second chapter of the Qurʾān and its exegeses (Ḵᵛāja Masʿud, p. 99, vv. 7, 10). It follows the meter of Neẓāmi’s Leyli o Majnun (Nafisi, I, p. 316; Navāʾi, pp. 38-39; Awḥadi, pp. 991-92; Ṣabā, pp. 736-38). There are several more versions of the romance of Yusof and Zolayḵā narrated in verse. More notable among them are those of Maḥmud Big Sālem Tabrizi (fl. 10th cent.), Nāẓem Heravi (fl. 11th cent.), and Āḏar Bigdeli (d. 1780), the last two emulating Jāmi’s maṯnawi (Ṣafā, V, p. 595-96; Āḏar Bigdeli, pp. 434-55). Other versified versions of the romance are by Pirjamāli Ardestāni (d. 1474), Jonayd-Allāh Maḵdum Heravi, Ḵāvari Širāzi, Mirā Dawlat Big, Mollā Mahdi Šoʿla Golpāyagāni, Šehāb Toršizi, Nāẓem Heravi, Šamsi ʿErāqi, etc. (see Ḵayyāmpur, 1960, pp. 40, 45-46, 54-58; Monzawi, IV, pp. 3331-46).

All of these are versified romantic stories that are in essence based on the text and exegeses of the thirty-second chapter of the Qurʾān (chap. 32), with overtones of mystic ideas and symbolism. Jāmi and Āḏar Bigdeli explicitly identify their versions as a mystical narration of this romance. Jāmi, describes Zolayḵā as an example of a person who has devoted her entire life to love in order to remove all existing veils so that she could get bask in the Sun of the Truth (Jāmi, vv. 3552-68; cf. Āḏar Bigdeli, p. 454).

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(Asghar Dadbeh)

Originally Published: June 15, 2009

...... ii. In Qurʾānic exegesis

JOSEPH ii. In Qurʾānic Exegesis

In the Qurʾān, the story of the prophet Joseph is unique in being related as one continuous narrative, making up almost the entirety of chapter (sura) 12.

JOSEPH

ii. IN QURʾĀNIC EXEGESIS

In the Qurʾān, the story of the prophet Joseph is unique in being related as one continuous narrative, making up almost the entirety of chapter (sura) 12, which is named after him Surat Yusof. By contrast, the stories of other prophets, such as Abraham (Ebrāhim), Moses (Musā), and Noah (Nuḥ), tend to be related in the Qurʾān as isolated events, which may be told more than once and in different ways, according to the context. Joseph’s story, however, begins (v. 4) with his informing his father of a dream in which he has seen the sun, moon, and eleven stars prostrating themselves before him, and it ends with the dream’s coming true and the reunion in Egypt of Joseph with his parents and brothers and their prostrating themselves before him (v. 100). This Qurʾānic narrative is only briefly interrupted by divine comments and exhortations, such as “and God is aware of what they do” (v. 19), or “God always prevails in His purpose, though most people do not realize it” (v. 21), or “God rewards the charitable” (v. 88).

The following statement in the third verse: “and We narrate unto you the best (or most beautiful) of stories (aḥsan al-qeṣaṣ)” is taken by most commentators to be a reference to the story of Joseph, though Abu Jaʿfar Moḥammad Ṭabari (d. 923) and Abu ʿAli Fażl b. Ḥasan Ṭabresi (d. 1154) give precedence to the view that it is a reference to the Qurʾān itself. Commentators present numerous reasons for Joseph’s story being designated “the best of stories,” namely, because it contains lessons (ʿebar), subtle points (nokāt), pieces of wisdom (ḥekam), and wonders (ʿajāʾeb; Faḵr-al-Din Rāzi, XVIII, p. 85; Zamaḵšari, III, p. 251); or because it contains everything that is required for a good story, including separation (forqat) and union (waṣlat), glorification (ʿezz) and humiliation (ḏell), wealth (ḡanāʾ) and poverty (faqr), lover (ʿāšeq) and beloved (maʿšuq), love (ḥobb) and hatred (boḡż), grief (anduh) and joy (šādi), governorship (amiri) and imprisonment (asiri; Surābādi, II, p. 1091); or because it contains mention of the virtuous (ṣāleḥān), angels (fereštagān), demons (šayāṭin), men and jinn, cattle and birds, the conduct of kings (siar-al- moluk), and the propriety in the conduct of slaves (ādāb-e mamālik), the manner of merchants (ṭariqat al-tojjār), the mention of those who are wise (ʿoqalāʿ) and those who are ignorant (johhāl), differing situations (eḵtelāf-e aḥwāl), and the craftiness of women (makr-e zanān); and moreover, the mention of the divine oneness (tawḥid), jurisprudence (feqh), knowledge about the virtues (ʿelm-e siar), the interpretation of dreams (taʿbir-e ḵᵛāb), how to rule (ādāb-e siāsat), etiquette of social life (ḥosn-e moʿāšarat), and earning a living (maʿāš; Abu’l-Fotuḥ Rāzi, XI, p. 7).

Commentators present a variety of reasons or circumstances for the revelation (asbāb al-nozul) of Surat Yusof, which include the following: a) Jewish scholars suggested to some powerful men among the polytheists that they should test Prophet Moḥammad by asking him why the family of Jacob moved to Egypt and about the story of Joseph (Faḵr-al-Din Rāzi, XVIII, p. 84); b) the Companions expressed to the Prophet their wish for God to reveal a sura in which there was no command or prohibition or promise or threat, so that they might be uplifted and joyful in reciting it (Meybodi, V, p. 3), c) or that there should be a story but no mention of religious obligation (taklif), and that they should find comfort (tasalli) in reading it (Surābādi, II, p. 1090); d) the Jews were boasting that in the Torah they had the best of stories and the Muslims did not have such a story (Surābādi, II, p. 1090; Meybodi, V, p. 3). All the commentaries seem to agree that the sura was revealed to provide comfort and reassurance to Moḥammad, who, at the time that it was revealed was suffering persecution from his own people, the Qorayš.

Throughout the history of Qurʾānic exegesis, Surat Yusof appears to have held a particular interest for commentators. Given the range of content in the Qurʾānic story of Joseph, as indicated above, it is not surprising to find a corresponding variety of approaches to the interpretation of the sura, which on the one hand provides considerable scope for narrative expansion, and on the other raises numerous ethical and theological issues, while at the same time being susceptible of a range of esoteric interpretations. Surat Yusof is also one of the few, and possibly the earliest sura, to have been treated in independent commentaries, such as al-Settin al-jāmeʿ le- laṭāʾef al-basātin of Aḥmad b. Moḥammad Ṭusi (fl. 11th cent.), the Baḥr al-maḥabba attributed to Aḥmad Ḡazāli (d. 1126), the Zahr al- kemām fi qeṣṣat Yusof ʿalayh al-salām, of Serāj-al-Din Abu Ḥafs ʿOmar Awsi (fl. 1284), and the Ḥadāʾeq al-ḥaqāʾeq of Moʿin-al-Din Farāhi Heravi (d. 1502).

This article will discuss a selection of better known commentaries on the sura in a number of Arabic and Persian texts and will highlight some salient features of the interpretation of the sura, as well as verses or points in the story that have aroused particular interest in both exoteric and esoteric approaches to Qurʾān interpretation.

EXOTERIC COMMENTARIES IN ARABIC

Although the story of Joseph is presented as a running narrative in the Qurʾān, it is, like other stories in the Qurʾān, related in a manner that is often elliptical. Thus, exoteric commentaries, in varying degrees, perform the function of filling in gaps in the narrative, and attempt to identify unnamed characters. In many cases, the exoteric commentaries not only fill in narratives for the sake of clarification, but also add numerous details. Much, though certainly not all the material that is employed by commentators to fill in and amplify the narrative is said to derive from the Esrāʾiliyāt, that is, traditions drawn from the body of knowledge about Biblical events and persons which was shared by Jews, Christians, and early Muslims, and often used to complement the succinct information found in the Qurʾān. Many of these traditions, however, are actually cited on the authority of Ebn ʿAbbās (d. ca. 687) or Esmāʿil b. ʿAbd-al-Raḥmān Soddi (d. 745) as much, if not more than on the authority of the Jewish convert Abu Esḥāq Kaʿb-al-Aḥbār (d. 652-53) or of Abu ʿAbd-Allāh Wahb b. Monabbeh (d. 728 or 732), whose names are usually associated with the Esrāʾiliyāt. Several parallels may be found in Jewish sources for the material that appears in the commentaries; for example, accounts of the immense physical strength of Joseph’s brothers (Ginzberg, pp. 16, 106-8), or of one brother who took pity on Joseph and stayed by the well and brought him food (Ginzberg, p. 14), though names may differ (Yahudā in the Qurʾān commentaries, Zebulon in the Midrash). There are other details that do not have obvious correspondences, such as Joseph’s eventual marriage to Zolayḵā, and Zolayḵā’s being a virgin, since Potiphar, her husband, was impotent (Ṭabari, 1955-69, XVI, p. 151). According to Louis Ginzberg (p. 38), Joseph marries Aseneth (or Asenath), the daughter of Dinah and Shechem (but Potipahr’s daughter in Genesis 41:45), who had been abandoned as a baby and adopted by Potiphar, and who was the same infant who spoke and attested to Joseph’s innocence when Zolayḵā attempted to implicate him. Moreover, in the Jewish tradition Potiphar was not considered impotent, but rather it was Zolayḵā who was barren.

Among the commentaries, Ṭabari’s Jāmeʿ al-bayān includes by far the greatest number of traditions supplying information not found in the Qurʾānic story, and these make up the largest portion of his commentary. In this regard, Ṭabari’s commentary on Surat Yusof resembles his account of Joseph’s story in his Taʾriḵ. In the Jāmeʿ al- bayān, he lists all the relevant traditions, those that present alternative opinions as well as those that record identical or similar information but with different chains of authority. Thus, for instance, among the numerous traditions he presents describing the exceptional beauty of Joseph, are five differently sourced traditions relating that a thirds of all beauty was bestowed upon Joseph and his mother, while the remaining third was bestowed on the rest of creation (Ṭabari, 1955-69, XVI, pp. 79-81). Other commentaries include far fewer traditions and usually only supply the original source of authority rather than a complete chain of authority (esnād) as in Ṭabari’s Jāmeʿ al-bayān. The commentators also include several Hadiths of the Prophet relating to different events in the story, apart from those which they cite to support their arguments. For example, in the context of verse 42, in which Joseph asks one of his fellow prisoners to remember him to his lord, most of the commentaries cite the Prophet’s saying: “God have mercy on my brother Joseph; had he not said ‘remember me to your lord,’ he would not have stayed in prison seven years over and above the five” (Ṭabari, 1955-69, XVI, p. 112; Bayżāwi, p. 461, tr. Beeston, p. 25).

All the Arabic commentaries on Surat Yusof include explanations and discussions of the variant readings as well as discussions of lexicography and grammar to clarify the literal meaning of the Qurʾānic story of Joseph. None of the variant readings discussed in the commentaries appear to have great significance for the meaning of the story, since they involve small details, such as whether part of Joseph’s brothers attempt to persuade their father to allow Joseph to go with them (v. 12) includes the word nartaʿ meaning “we shall be well off” or “enjoy ourselves” eating fruit and the like, from the verb rataʿa meaning to feast, to revel, or nartaʿ, from form VIII of the verb raʿā, meaning to graze cattle, or yartaʿ with Joseph as the subject (Bayżāwi, p. 454, tr. Beeston, pp. 7-8).

Apart from employing glosses, explanations of variant readings and linguistic discussions in order to define and clarify the meaning, and adding traditional material to fill in and augment the story, exoteric commentators engage, to varying degrees, in theological and ethical discussions concerning certain verses of Surat Yusof. They also occasionally reflect on salutary lessons raised by the story, although this aspect of exegesis is more prevalent in Sufi commentaries. Verses that are of particular concern from a theological point of view are those that might imply some error on the part of a prophet, for example, the actions of Joseph’s brothers towards him (vv. 9-18); the extent of Jacob’s grieving (vv. 84-85); Joseph’s implicating Benjamin in the theft of his drinking cup, and accusing his brothers first of stealing and then of lying (vv. 70-76); and especially the incident between Joseph and Zolayḵā (vv. 23-24). Other matters that appear to have been of concern include whether or not prophets can receive charity (ṣadaqa) in the context of verse 88, and the prostration of Joseph’s parents and brothers before him (v. 100). Some of the commentaries also include interesting discussions of the different kinds of dreams and their interpretation (Faḵr-al-Din Rāzi, XVIII, pp. 87-88, 135, 146; Ṭabresi, III, p. 233), and whether or not it is right to believe in the evil eye (Ṭabresi, III, p. 249; Zamaḵšarī, III, p. 306). The interpretations of these issues by the different commentators reveal both their stance on various theological matters and their individual interests.

Among the commentators, Ṭabari does not attach particular importance to Joseph’s immunity from sin (ʿeṣma), and when commenting on verse 24: “She [Zolayḵā] desired him [Joseph] and he would have desired her were it not that he saw the proof of his Lord (laqad hammat behi wa hamma behā law lā an raʾā borhān rabbehi),” he includes numerous traditions that affirm not only Joseph’s desire for Zolayḵā but also the extent to which his desire took him. For instance, “He [Joseph] loosened his waistband and sat as one who would possess would sit” (Ṭabari, 1955-69, XVIII, p. 35). He does nonetheless pose the hypothetical question whether it is allowable for the prophet Joseph to be described in this way (i.e., close to committing adultery), and in answer he presents several possible arguments. First are those that are based on the acceptance of his error: a) It was in the way of a test from God, because God tests prophets with error (ḵa-ṭiya), so that when they realize what they are doing they will be in tremendous awe (wajal) and more concerned to obey Him, and they will know that they should not rely on the abundance of God’s forgiveness and mercy; b) He tests them with such things in order to make them recognize His blessing towards them and forgiveness of them by His abandoning His punishment of them in the Hereafter; c) He tests them thereby to make them models for the people of sin (ahl al-ḏonub), so that they should hope for mercy and not despair if they repent. Second are the arguments of those who “go against what is said by the early Muslims (salaf) and interpret the Qurʾān according to their own opinion”: a) The woman desired Joseph and he desired to strike her or inform her of the reprehensibility of her desire, and therefore his seeing the proof of his Lord made him refrain from hurting her, so he was prevented from the evil and depravity (le-naṣrefa ʿanho al-suʾ; v. 24) of harming her; b) “She desired him (hammat behi) is the end of one proposition, while “he desired her” is the beginning of another, with the word order in reverse, that is, “He would have desired her had he not seen the proof of his Lord.” (The latter is rejected by Ṭabari as being atypical of Arabic usage.) Yet others, according to Ṭabari, look at the nature of the desire: Joseph desired the woman without any inclination towards either carrying out or abandoning the desire and without any determination or intention (Ṭabari, 1955-69, XVI, 37-39).

Commentators who do not accept the possibility that any sin, minor or major, should be attached to Joseph, use one or more of the arguments in Ṭabari’s second category, while Ṭabresi refines the discussion by differentiating two meanings for the word hamm. If it signifies intent, then Joseph did not share the same intent as Zolayḵā, his intention was rather to repel her, but if hamm is to be understood as desire or lust (šahwa), then Ṭabresi allows that this might have been the natural inclination of a young man towards a woman, but that no intent was added to it (Ṭabresi, III, pp. 224-25). Faḵr-al-Din Rāzi is so concerned to uphold the infallibility (ʿeṣma) of Joseph that he is even prepared to dismiss well-known traditions transmitted on the authority of Ebn ʿAbbās, Esmāʿil Soddi, and others, to whom Ṭabari refers as the early Muslims (salaf). He goes to great lengths to argue that Joseph’s desire was merely to drive Zolayḵā away, and considers Abu’l-Ḥasan ʿAli Wāḥedi (d. 1075) and others who accept the validity of the traditions as being among the Ḥašwiya (scholars of little worth). He also adds the ironic comment that Zolayḵā only attempted to implicate Josph once and, as soon as his innocence had been demonstrated, left off accusing him, unlike those Ḥašwis who almost 4,000 years later continue to accuse him! (Faḵr-al-Din Rāzi, XVIII, p. 122).

Faḵr-al-Din Rāzi’s understanding of ʿeṣma seems to have been more comprehensive than that of other commentators, such that no fault whatsoever should be attached to a prophet. Throughout his commentary on Surat Yusof, he anticipates any possible objection or criticism that might be made, and has an answer or several answers for it. For example, he poses the hypothetical question “Since favoring one child over another causes hatred and jealousy, and since Jacob would have known this, why did he enter into such favoritism? Also, the older or most knowledgeable child has more excellence [and therefore is worthier of favoritism], so why did Jacob overturn this principle?” His answer is that Jacob only favored Joseph and his brother in love, and love cannot be controlled, therefore he is not worthy of blame (Faḵr-al-Din Rāzi, XVIII, p. 93).

Jār-Allāh Zamaḵšari’s commentary appears to manifest his Muʿtazilite theology at various points in his interpretation of Surat Yusof. For example, when commenting on Joseph’s words, “I would prefer prison to that to which they [these women] are calling me (v. 33),” he states that this was Joseph’s fleeing [from that sin] to God’s grace and protection (ʿeṣma) in the forbearance that he had determined for himself. There was no question of God’s compelling him to be chaste or to take refuge in Him (Zamaḵšari, III, p. 282). Zamaḵšari engages in polemics when he interprets Jacob’s command to his sons, “Do not all enter by one gate, use different gates . . . “ (v. 67), which most commentators explain as being an expression of Jacob’s fear of the evil eye. He argues that it is possible that when a thing is looked at and admired, God brings about some impairment or fault in it, and he observes that this matter (i.e., the question of the evil eye) distinguishes the people who seek the truth (moḥaqqequn) from those who remain at a superficial, literal level (ahl al-ḥašw), for the seeker of the truth will say that it is the act of God, while the Ḥašwi will say that it is the effect of the eye (Zamaḵšari, III, p. 306).

EXOTERIC COMMENTARIES IN PERSIAN

Persian tafsirs vary considerably in the extent to which they include exegetical discussions of a technical nature and Arabic quotations (see EXEGESIS iii). Thus, some Persian commentaries on Surat Yusof resemble their Arabic counterparts, and include discussions of variant readings, lexicography, grammar, and relevant traditions, which may be presented in Arabic with full (Abu’l-Fotuḥ Rāzi) or partial (Meybodi) translation in Persian, or solely presented in Persian (Surābādi). Other commentaries consist mainly of a translation of the verses and story telling, which is how the Tarjama-ye tafsir-e Ṭabari may be described. In fact, a comparison between the commentary on Surat Yusof in the so-called “Persian Ṭabari” and that of Ṭabari’s Jāmeʿ al-bayān reveals how little they have in common. Following the translation of the verses, the “Persian Ṭabari” simply relates the story of Joseph, beginning with the birth of Jacob, continuing with the life of Joseph and ending with his death and burial. While it draws on much traditional material, it does not specifically cite any traditions; the material is simply integrated into the narrative.

In general it can be said that storytelling becomes a more prominent feature of Persian tafsirs, and among them the Tafsir of Surābādi is particularly notable for its colorful and at times dramatic narrative, which is clearly exemplified in the commentary on the story of Joseph. Here we find some lively passages of dialogue, as when Joseph’s brothers tease him and try to entice him into the idea of going out into the desert with them, saying, “You are too clever to think that you should be brought up so tied to the apron strings (dāman parvarda)! [How come] you just sit there in the house as girls do and never come out to see those pleasant meadows, so you can become like a man? If you could only once come and see what games we play and what fantastic (bu’l-ʿajab) things we do, you wouldn’t be able to sit quietly in the house for one day” (Surābādi, II, p. 1099). Surābādi also includes unusual material that is not found either in other well-known commentaries or in the stories about prophets (qeṣaṣ al-anbiāʾ). For example, when Joseph is going to detain Benjamin in Egypt on the accusation of stealing his drinking cup, Surābādi, like some other commentators, relates how Joseph’s brother Yahudā tries to intimidate him into returning Benjamin to them by threatening to yell so loudly that every pregnant creature in the kingdom would immediately deliver its young. Surābādi adds to this a scene in which Joseph humiliates Yahudā by demonstrating his own superior strength, and taunts him with the words, “So you thought that no one was a man like you?” (Surābādi, II, p. 1170). Another example is the scene in which Zolayḵā, on the suggestion of her nursemaid (dāya), has a house built with seven chambers lavishly furnished and decorated with paintings of herself in the embrace of Joseph (Surābādi, II, pp. 1125-26).

Meybodi also includes some lively passages of narrative in the Nawba II sections of his Kašf al-asrār, as, for example, the scene where Zolayḵā and another wealthy woman of Egypt try to outbid each other in the purchase of Joseph (Meybodi, V, 35). However, passages of storytelling are interrupted in Meybodi’s commentary by conventional exegetical discussions, whereas Surābādi has integrated his exegetical explanations into the narrative so that they are barely noticeable, as when he briefly answers the question as to why the masculine pronominal suffix is used for the sun, the moon, and stars, when they are non-rational beings (Surābādi, II, p. 1095). The Tāj al-tarājem of Abu’l-Moẓaffar Esfarāyeni and the Rawż al- jenān of Abu’l-Fotuḥ Rāzi also contain plenty of narrative passages to provide additional background information and augment Joseph’s story, though these commentaries do not boast the colorful or dramatic story-telling of Surābādi and Meybodi. Both Esfarāyeni and Abu’l-Fotuḥ Rāzi cite numerous traditions, mostly naming the original source from which they are transmitted, with Rāzi including both Sunnite and Shiʿite Hadiths. Esfarāyeni omits discussions of variant readings and grammar, but does discuss matters of interest to him, such as the importance of dreams and their interpretation (Esfarāyeni, III, pp. 1081-82), the possibility of major or minor sins being attributed to prophets either before or after their being summoned to prophethood (Esfarāyeni, III, pp. 1047-48). Abu’l-Fotuḥ Rāzi’s commentary does include discussions of language and variant readings, or lengthy quotations of Arabic poetry. In his interpretations he has points in common with his contemporary Shiʿite commentator Abu ʿAli Ṭabresi. However, he includes fewer theological discussions in his commentary on Surat Yusof.

SUFI COMMENTARIES

Sufi commentators, on the whole, focus much of their attention on the lessons (ʿebar, sing. ʿebrat) and deeper meanings that may be elicited from the Qurʾānic verses, and the story of Joseph provides them with ample scope to draw out lessons of mystical, ethical, theological, and metaphysical significance. The doctrine of the divine preordination (qażāʾ or taqdir) and omnipotence (qodra) is prominent in all these commentaries, and manifests itself in two teachings: the first is that God is the controller and provider of all things and that human beings should have complete trust in Him; and the second is the prevailing of the divine decree (taqdir) over human contrivance and design (tadbir). An interesting feature of the development of Sufi commentaries on Surat Yusof from the early 12th century onwards is a growing prominence of the doctrines of love. This development results in a complete change in the role of Jacob, who is transformed from excessively grieving father (Solami, Or 9433, fols. 123a-123b) to a prototype of the mystic lover of God (Meybodi, V, pp. 82, 105-6, 127-32, 139-41; Ruzbehān, I, pp. 413, 431, 438, 444-46). Zolayḵā’s role also undergoes a significant change, from that of Joseph’s temptress, a woman who was subject to the basest lust (Solami, Or 9433, fol. 116), to a lover moving from human to divine love (Meybodi, V, pp. 87-90) and the noble object of Joseph’s love (Ruzbehān, I, 414). In Sufi commentaries, several aspects of Joseph’s story take on new significance, such as the women of Egypt cutting their hands and Jacob catching the scent of Joseph as the caravan is departing from Egypt on its way to Canaan.

Many of the comments transmitted from early mystics that are included in Solami’s Ḥaqāʾeq al-tafsir emphasize the need to fear and depend only on God. In conveying these doctrines through their interpretations, these early commentators appear to have no hesitation in “finding fault” with the prophet Jacob. For example, when Jacob accepts Joseph’s brothers’ assurance that they will take good care of him, Ebn ʿAṭāʾ comments, “If he [Jacob] had sent him with them, surrendering to destiny, he [Joseph] would have been protected. But he placed his reliance on their reassurance . . . and they were treacherous. If he had left off planning (tadbir) and that reliance on their care, he would have been protected, as was the case later when [Benjamin was taken from him] and he said ‘God is the best of protectors’ ” (v. 64; Solami, ed. Nwyia, p. 59, repr. in Purjawādi, p. 101). Jacob’s grieving over the loss of Joseph to the point of losing his sight is interpreted in a critical manner by several commentators (e.g., Abu Saʿid al-Ḵarrāz, Abu Saʿid al-Qoraši, and Ebn ʿAṭāʾ) as being a result of his grieving for other than God. Such comments are softened in the Laṭāʾef al-ešārāt of Abu’l-Qāsem Qošayri, possibly demonstrating a discreet awareness on Qošayri’s part of the doctrines of love (Keeler, 2006b, p. 15). For example, Qošayri cites a comment of Abu ʿAli Daqqāq that Jacob did not really go blind, his sight was merely veiled to prevent his seeing other than Joseph, and Qošayri adds the observation: “There is nothing harder for lovers than looking at [other than the beloved] in times of separation” (Qošayri, p. 200). Likewise, earlier in the story, when Jacob allows Joseph to go with his brothers, Qošayri (p. 172) states that the lover gives the comfort of the beloved precedence over his own desires.

Whereas there are mere hints of the theme of love in Qošayri’s commentary on Surat Yusof, the theme of love comes fully into its own in the mystical section of Meybodi’s Kašf al-asrār. While the theme of the prevailing of divine preordination (taqdir) over human contrivance (tadbir) is certainly not absent from Meybodi’s commentary on the story of Joseph (Meybodi, V, pp. 25, 46-47), love is unmistakably the predominant theme, for instance, when Meybodi comments on verse 3, “We narrate unto you the best of stories,” he describes it simply as, “a story of lover and beloved, a tale of separation and union (qeṣṣa-ye ʿāšeq o maʿšuq wa ḥadiṯ-e ferāq o weṣāl)” (Meybodi, V, p. 11). Jacob is the main protagonist in Meybodi’s interpretation and is presented as the prototype of the mystic lover of God, while Joseph’s beauty (jamāl-e yusofi) represents the divine Beloved. The suffering that Jacob had to go through in separation from Joseph was, as Meybodi demonstrates, in order to perfect his love (Meybodi, V, p. 11). Commenting on Jacob’s words, “I perceive the scent of Joseph” (v. 94), he observes that when Joseph was in the well just a short distance away, Jacob did not detect Joseph’s scent, but now at a distance of eighty parasangs he could perceive it, and he explains that until a person is mellowed in love (poḵta-ye ʿešq) and trampled about (kufta) by love’s affliction, he will not catch the scent of love (Meybodi, V, p. 140). Zolayḵā is generally sympathetically treated in Meybodi’s commentary. In the Nawbat II commentary she seems to play the role of the lover who graduates, by being deprived of her lover, from human to divine love. In Nawbat III commentary, however, she is the prototype of the mystic lover who is inevitably subjected to blame (malāmat) by the women of Egypt, which she welcomes for the sake of her beloved, and then when the women of Egypt, in a state of bewilderment, cut their hands at the sight of Joseph, Zolayḵā is shown, by comparison, to be an adept in love, in the advanced mystic state of stability (tamkin; Meybodi, V, pp. 55-61).

In his ʿArāʾes al-bayān, Ruzbehān Baqli finds scope within the story of Joseph to expound his own teachings on love, which are centered on his doctrine of eltebās (God’s manifestation or theophany in the beauty of creation which veils His essence). Commenting on verse 3, he explains that the sura’s beauty (or goodness) “lies in its elucidation of human love and its flight from the [human] level to the level of divine love and contemplation of the Eternal” (Ruzbehān, p. 406). Joseph represents for Ruzbehān the manifestation of the divine beauty in creation; he was “a mirror of God” on earth. Ruzbehān’s explanation of Jacob’s going blind from the sorrow of separation from Joseph is very different from those of the earlier commentators cited by Solami. He explains that Jacob was privileged with the station of eltebās, and for him the theophany of God was held in the mirror of Joseph’s countenance, so that when Joseph was separated from him he lost that intermediary and therefore was deprived of the beholding of God (Ruzbehān, p. 438). In Ruzbehān’s commentary, Zolayḵā herself becomes a manifestation of divine beauty for Joseph, which is why he affirms Joseph’s desiring her in verse 24 and shows it in an entirely positive light: “There was an unveiling in the face of Zolayḵā as the Holy was manifest in her. He [Joseph] was drawn by that holiness to the desire (hamm), so that he might taste the sweetness of human love and thereby attain divine love, and be drawn to the kingdom of pre-eternity and eternity” (Ruzbehān, p. 416). Nonetheless, in Ruzbehān’s teaching the mystic must seek to go beyond the station of eltebās, and this is explained when he comments on Joseph’s detaining Benjamin in Egypt, where Joseph takes on the role of spiritual mentor for Jacob: “Joseph saw in the heart of Jacob some inclination towards intermediaries, and he wanted the old man to attain the isolation (tafrid) of non-origination from creation, which presupposes that he (i.e., Jacob) would purify his innermost consciousness (serr) of the manifestation of divine Beauty (Ruzbehān, p. 430).

In ʿAbd-al-Razzāq Kāšāni’s commentary on the story of Joseph in his Tafsir al-Qorʾān al-karim, we find a departure from the theme of love in the interpretation of Surat Yusof. In Kāšāni’s hermeneutics, figures in the stories of the prophets become symbols for different levels and functions of the human microcosm, and in the story of Joseph he finds particular scope to expound the journey of the heart towards spiritual perfection, so that every figure in the story, as well as every event, is able to play its part in his symbolic representation of the spiritual journey: Joseph is the heart (qalb), Jacob reason (ʿaql), Potiphar the spirit (ruḥ), and Zolayḵā the blaming self (nafs-e lawwāma), and so on (Kāšāni, I, pp. 316-17). Joseph’s imprisonment and subsequent release represent the heart’s attainment of perfection and the state of annihilation from self (fanāʾ), and subsistence in God (baqāʾ), respectively. Kāšāni’s commentary, by comparison with those of earlier Sufis, is highly analytical and almost philosophical in its approach to the story of Joseph (Kāšāni, I, pp. 321-23).

INDEPENDENT COMMENTARIES The genre of independent commentaries on Surat Yusof, which may first have emerged in the mid to late 11th century, deserves investigation in its own right. It displays a variety of different approaches and literary styles and includes several interesting works that remain only in manuscript. These commentaries seem to fall into two categories. There are firstly those that may be described as “verse-by-verse” commentaries on Surat Yusof, with a great deal of additional material relating more or less directly to subject matter raised by the story. To this category belongs al-Settin al-jāmeʿ le- laṭāʾef al-basātin of Aḥmad b. Moḥammad b. Zayd Ṭusi (fl. 11th cent.), the Baḥr al-maḥabba attributed to Aḥmad Ḡazāli (d. 1126), a short commentary attributed to Sebt b. Jawzi (d. 1256; British Library, Add 25,755, no. 2 entitled Qeṣ-ṣat Yusof ʿalayh al-salām, and the Ḥadāʾeq al-ḥaqāʾeq of Moʿin-al-Din Farāhi Heravi (d. 1502). Secondly, there are commentaries which are focused on other verses of the Qurʾān, but are interwoven with verses and excerpts from the story of Joseph. The latter category is represented by several works, including the Zahr al-kemām of Abu Ḥafs ʿOmar Awṣi (fl. 1284), an anonymous manuscript in the British Library (OR 11527), and possibly by the manuscript Paris 1296 (Brockelmann, II, p. 265, Suppl., I, pp. 378, 919).

In the first category, the most substantial independent commentary in Arabic (numbering 164 pages in the Bombay edition) is the Baḥr al- maḥabba fi asrār al-mawadda fi tafsir Surat Yusof, which is also known by the titles Tafsir Surat Yusof al-mosammā be-dorrat al- bayżāʾ, Baḥr al-ʿešq fi tafsir Surat Yusof, and simply Tafsir Surat Yusof (Lumbard, p. 28). The attribution of this work to Aḥmad Ḡazāli has recently been questioned by Joseph Lumbard, who considers it to be of later authorship (Lumbard, pp. 28-29). The content of the commentary is broader in scope than is indicated by some of its titles. Although love certainly features, the work discusses many other subjects of religious, spiritual, and theological significance. The commentary is not arranged in chapters, but material is loosely highlighted under subtitles such as faṣl (section), qeṣṣa (story), nokta (remark), and ešāra (allusion, point). It includes sayings of earlier mystics, such as Abu’l-Qāsem Jonayd, Ḥosayn b. Manṣur Ḥallāj (q.v.), Abu Moḥammad Sahl Tostari, and Abu ʿAli Daqqāq, numerous anecdotes, Hadiths, poetry, and passages of rhyming prose.

A shorter work is the Qeṣṣat Yusof ʿalayh al-salām attributed to Sebt b. Jawzi (d. 1200), numbering less than 70 folios, which may more strictly be described as a commentary on the story of Joseph, with the addition of traditional narrative material, relevant Hadiths, and some comments drawing religious and ethical lessons from the story. The work includes some passages of rhyming prose and poetry.

In Persian, al-Settin al-jāmeʿ le-laṭāʾef al-basātin of Aḥmad b. Moḥammad Ṭusi, is possibly the earliest independent commentary of Surat Yusof. Previously Moḥammad Moʿin (pp. 319-23) and the commentary’s editor Moḥammad Rowšan (Ṭusi, editor’s intro. p. 11), on the basis of the style and content of the work, had considered it to date from the mid- to late 6th/12th century. However, Moḥammad- Reżā Šafiʿi Kadkani has since argued that Ṭusi composed the work between 460 and 470 (1067-77), and considers it to be an important source for our knowledge of the development of the earliest mystic poetry in Persian (Kadkani, p. 343). The commentary is systematically divided into sixty chapters, each taking its lead from a particular verse of Surat Yusof. The prose includes some examples of rhyming prose, and a good deal of poetry. Apart from narrative passages, the content is largely homiletic, and includes discussions of many subjects of religious and spiritual import, with a strong emphasis on love. It is a lengthy work, running to over 700 pages in its published edition. Another substantial Persian work in the first category of independent commentaries is the much later Ḥadāʾeq al-ḥaqāʾeq of Moʿin-al-Din Farāhi Heravi (d. 1502). This commentary is not as systematically arranged as al-Settin, but it is divided into numerous subsections, not always entitled faṣl. Some indicate that they contain subtleties (laṭāʾef) and allusions (ešārāt) concerning a particular verse, and others indicate a return the story after an excursus (rajaʿnā ela’l- qeṣṣa). The homiletic prose is for the most part plain with very little use of rhyming prose, but there is an abundant use of poetry.

In the second category of independent commentaries, the Zahr al- kemām fi qeṣṣat Yusof ʿalayh al-salām by Serāj-al-Din Abu Ṣafā ʿOmar Awsi (fl. 1284) appears to be a popular work, having been published twice (Egypt, 1922-23; Beirut, 2003), while poems from the work have been translated into English (Nemoy, 1930). The present writer has examined the work in two manuscripts, one at the British Library (OR 11246), dated 1002/1593-94, and another at Cambridge University Library (Arberry’s catalogue, no. 1417; for other MSS see Brockelmann, II, p. 265, Suppl., p. 378). The Zahr al-kemām is arranged in seventeen sessions (majāles), each of which is based on the commentary on a particular verse of the Qurʾān, and includes a passage relating to the story of Joseph. For example, the first session (laṭāʾef) begins with an exposition of the meaning of verse 23 in Surat al-osarāʾ, but eventually moves on to an account of the birth of Jacob and Esau and Joseph’s early childhood. Two other works, apparently following a similar arrangement, are an incomplete British Library manuscript (OR 11527) and the al-Majāles al-Yusofiya (Paris, 1296).

Bibliography:

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Moḥammad b. Ḥosayn Abu ʿAbd-al-Raḥmān Solami, ḥaqāʾeq al- tafsir, MS British Museum, Or. 9433, ed. Sayyed ʿEmrān as ḥaqāʾeq al-tafsir: tafsir al-Qorʾān al-ʿaziz, Beirut, 2001; comments attributed to Imam Jaʿfar al-Ṣādeq, ed. with introd. by Paul Nwyia in “Le tafsîr mystique attribué à Ğaʿfar Ṣâdiq,” Mélanges de l’Université Saint- Joseph 43, 1967, pp. 179-230; comments of Ebn ʿAṭāʾ Adami, ed. Paul Nwyia, in Trois oeuvres inédites de mystiques musulmanes: Šaqīq Balḫī, Ibn ʿAṭā, Niffārī, Beirut, 1973; comments attributed to Ḥosyan b. Manṣur Ḥallāj, ed. Louis Massignon, in Paul Nwyia, Essai sur les origines du lexique technique de la mystique musulmane, Paris, 1922; all these extracts reprinted in Naṣr-Allāh Purjawādi (Pourjavady), ed., Majmuʿa-ye āṯār-e Abu ʿAbd-al-Raḥmān Solami I, Tehran, 1990.

Abu Bakr ʿAtiq Nišāburi Surābādi, Tafsir-e Surābādi, ed. ʿAli-Akbar Saʿidi Sirjāni, 5 vols. Tehran, 2001.

Abu Jaʿfar Moḥammad b. Jarir Ṭabari, Jāmeʿ al-bayān ʿan taʾwil āy al-Qorʾān, ed. Maḥmud Moḥammad Šāker and Aḥmad Moḥammad Šāker as Jāmeʿ al-bayān ʿan tafsir al-Qorʾān, 16 vols., Cairo, 1955- 69 (incomp. ed.); (so-called) Pers. tr. as Tarjama-ye tafsir-e Ṭabari, ed. Ḥabib Yaḡmāʾi, 8 vols., Tehran, 1960-65; abr. tr. of vol. 1 by John Cooper, Wilferd Madelung and Alan Jones as The Commentary on the Qurʾān, London and New York, 1987.

Idem, Taʾriḵ al-rosol wa’l-moluk, ed. Moḥammad Abu’l-Fażl Ebrāhim, 10 vols., Cairo, 1960-69; tr. by various scholars as The History of al- Ṭabari, 40 vols., Albany, New York, 1985-2007.

Abu ʿAli Fażl b. Ḥasan Ṭabresi (Ṭabarsi), Majmaʿ al-bayān fi tafsir al- Qorʾān, Qom, 1983. Aḥmad b. Moḥammad b. Zayd Ṭusi, Tafsir-e Sura-ye Yusof: al-Settin al-jāmeʿ le-laṭāʾef al-basātin, ed. Moḥammad Rowšan, Tehran, 1967.

Abu’l-Qāsem Jār-Allāh Maḥmud b. ʿOmar Zamaḵšari, al-Kaššāf ʿan ḥaqāʾeq al-tanzil wa ʿoyun al-aqāwil fi wojuh al-taʾwil, 4 vols., Cairo, 1972.

Secondary sources. Muhammad Abdel Haleem, “The Story of Joseph in the Qurʾān and the Old Testament,” Islam and Christian Muslim Relations 1/2, 1990, pp. 171-91.

Carl W. Ernst, Rūzbihān Baqlī: Mysticism and the Rhetoric of Sainthood in Persian Sufism, Richmond, Surrey, 1996.

Laroussi Gasmi, “Les réseaux connotatifs dans le texte coranique (le récit de Joseph: Sourate XII, v. 4-102),” Arabica 33/1, 1986, pp. 1-48.

Louis Ginzberg, The Legends of the Jews, Translated from the German Manuscript by Henrietta Szold, 7 vols. Philadelphia, 1909- 38.

Jaako Hämeen-Anttila, ‘"We Will Tell You the Best of Stories’: A Study on Surah XII,” Studia Orientalia Helsinki 67, 1991, pp. 7-32.

Anthony H. Johns, “Joseph in the Qurʾān: Dramatic Dialogue, Human Emotion and Prophetic Wisdom,” Islamochristiana 7, 1981, pp. 29-55. Annabel Keeler, Sufi Hermeneutics: The Qurʾān Commentary of Rashīd al-Dīn Maybudī, Oxford, 2006a, chap. 10.

Idem, “Sufi Tafsir As A Mirror: Qushayrī the Murshid in His Laṭāʾif al- ishārāt,” Journal of Qurʾanic Studies/Majallat al-derāsāt al-qurʾāniya 7/1, 2006b, pp. 1-21.

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Joseph E. Lumbard, “Aḥmad Ghazālī (d. 517/1123 or 520/1126) and the Metaphysics of Love,” Ph.D. diss., Yale University, 2003.

J. Macdonald, “Joseph in the Qurʾān and Muslim Commentary,” Muslim World 46, 1956, pp. 113-31, 207-24.

Gayane Karen Merguerian and Afsaneh Najmabadi, “Zulaykha and Yusuf: Whose ‘Best Story?’,” International Journal of Middle East Studies 29, 1997, pp. 485-508.

Mustansir Mir, “The Story of Joseph: Plot, Themes and Characters,” Muslim World 76, 1986, pp. 1-15.

Moḥammad Moʿin, “Nosḵa-ye ḵaṭṭi-e tafsir-e sura-ye Yusof (ʿ): majmuʿa-ye motaʿalleq ba Ketāb-ḵāna-ye melli-e Rašt,” Yaḡmā 1/7, 1948, pp. 319-23. James Winston Morris, “Dramatizing the Sura of Joseph: An Introduction to the Islamic Humanities,” Journal of Turkish Studies 18, 1994, pp. 201-24.

Leon Nemoy, Selected Poems from the Kitab Zahr al-kimam fi qissat Yusuf, New Haven, privately printed, 1930.

Paul Nwyia, “Un cas d’exégèse soufie: l’histoire de Joseph,” in Seyyed Hossein Nasr, ed., Mélanges offerts à Henri Corbin. Tehran, 1977, pp. 407-23.

Nasrollah Pourjavady, “Aḥmad Ghazālī,” in EIr. X, pp. 377-80.

Gary A. Rendsburg, “Literary Structures in the Qurʾānic and Biblical Stories of Joseph,” Muslim World 75, 1985, pp. 118-20.

Moḥammad-Reżā Šafiʿi Kadkani, “Safina-i az šeʿrhā-ye qarn-e čahārom wa panjom,” in Moḥammad Torābi, ed., Jašn-nāma-ye Ostād Ḏabiḥ-Allāh Ṣafā, Tehran, 1998, pp. 340-60.

M. S. Stern, “Muhammad and Joseph: A Study in Koranic Narrative,” Journal of Near Eastern Studies 44, 1985, pp. 193-204.

Abu’l-Ḥasan ʿAli Wāḥedi Nišāburi, Asbāb nozul al-Qorʾān, ed. Kamāl Basyuni Zanḡul, Beirut, 1991. Mary R. Waldman, “New Approaches to “Biblical” Materials in the Qurʾān,” Muslim World 75/1, 1985, pp. 1-16.

(Annabel Keeler)

Originally Published: June 15, 2009

...... iii. In Persian art

JOSEPH iii. IN PERSIAN ART

JOSEPH

iii. IN PERSIAN ART

The popularity of Joseph as a subject in the visual arts is by and large a reflection of the popularity of the story of Joseph in Islamic literatures. Several Persian poets composed versified versions of the story (see, e.g., Monzawi, IV, pp. 3331-46), the earliest being the one, now lost, by the 10th-century poet Abu’l-Moʾayyad Balḵi (Ṣafā, I, pp. 369, 402). The most famous among them, however, is Yusof o Zolayḵā by Nur-al-Din ʿAbd-al-Raḥmān Jāmi (q.v.), which forms the fifth versified narrative of his Haft owrang (Ṣafā, IV, pp. 359-60; Browne, III, pp. 531-33; Arberry, pp. 442-47). The general prominence accorded the arts of the book decoration in the post- Mongolian period are also evident in the figurative depictions that occur overwhelmingly as miniatures illustrating works that feature, or are wholly about, Joseph (Blair and Bloom, pp. 24-25). Book illustrations that represent Joseph or depict an episode in one of the many tales about him have been among the more popular subjects in the history of Islamic painting in general. Figurative depiction of prophets or biblical personalities, and thus iconographic prototypes, date back to the earliest period in Persian painting, but it was above all the far-reaching influence of Islamic mysticism in Persian literature that raised the popularity of Joseph as a subject in manuscript illustrations (Davis, p. 279; Milstein, pp. 8, 15). The story of Joseph has been used as a motif in Sufi discourse al least since the 11th century, when Abu’l-Ḥasan ʿAli Hojviri (d. ca. 465/1071-72) made exemplary references to it to illustrate certain Sufi concepts (Hojviri, pp. 37, 263, 331, 401, 434-35, 477). Joseph, his beauty, his father Jacob (Yaʿqub), the conspiracy of his brothers, his sale as a slave, the ordeal of Zolayḵā’s love, his reunion with Jacob, as well as other episodes far exceeding the basic narrative in Chapter 12 of the Qurʾān have been repeatedly used as literary tropes in both lyric and narrative poetry in order to explicate the trials involved in establishing a direct, individual experience of the Divine (Schimmel, pp. 66-67). Illustrations of these or related episodes in the cycle in turn established an iconographic standard that, with the aid of such generic features as Joseph’s flaming aureole, make textual reference for identification of the scene unnecessary, as is the case with a lacquer painting on a bookbinding for Jāmi’s Toḥfat al-aḥrār, executed in 1570 in Qazvin (Haase, p. 61).

The most appealing subject from the Joseph story has been the episode involving Potiphar’s wife, called Zolayḵā in Islamic lore. The popularity of the stories about Zolay-ḵā’s love for Joseph as a subject for lyrical and narrative poetry dates back to the Ghaznavid period (Ṣafā, abr. ed., p. 122), but they attain prominence as subjects for painting after ʿAbd-al-Raḥmān Jāmi’s (q.v.; d. 1492) mystical epic, the romance of Yusof o Zolayḵā (comp. 1483; Milstein, p. 15; Arberry, p. 442; Jāmi, p. 208, v. 4012). Shortly thereafter, the impact of Jāmi’s romance in the visual arts became manifest in one of the most celebrated paintings in the history of Persian book illustration. It was executed by the master painter Kamāl-al-Din Behzād (d. 935/1535- 36, q.v.), who chose to illustrate the scene of Zolayḵā’s attempt at seducing Joseph for a passage in Saʿdi’s Bustān (q.v.; Cairo, National Library, MS. Arab Farsi 908). He not only used the descriptions as provided in Jāmi’s version of the story (Golombek, p. 28), but also reproduced a few verses from Jāmi’s poem in the painting itself (Barry, p. 201). Although Joseph’s face has partially worn away, his sense of alarm is apparent as he reaches for the latch of the locked door with one arm while Zolayḵā, pulling at his garb, is trying to prevent his escape by grabbing his other arm (Blaire and Bloom, pp. 63-64; Jāmi, p. 123, vv. 2183 ff.).

There are some 108 illustrated manuscripts of Jāmi’s Yusof o Zolayḵā from the 16th century in museums and libraries around the world. Among these, which do not include such images as frontispieces or those inserted later, the most frequently illustrated episode is that of Egyptian women being overwhelmed at the sight of Joseph’s dazzling beauty (54), followed by Joseph being sold at a slave market (38), and being rescued from the well (27). Such images as that of Joseph asking Jacob for a jeweled staff from heaven, or “Joseph arriving before the king of Egypt,” are unique (Simpson, pp. 369-83). In its most celebrated manuscript, which is one of the septet that comprises Jāmi’s Haft owrang (com. 1565; ms. 46.12, Freer Galley of Art, Washington, D.C.), the illustration depicting the final scene of Joseph’s marriage to Zolayḵā might also reflect a real event in the life of Ebrāhim Mirzā (d. 984/1577; q.v.), the Safavid prince who commissioned the manuscript. The possibility that the image of Joseph, the legendary paragon of youthful beauty, is the portrait of a historical person seems doubtful, given the tendency in contemporary Persian painting toward idealized depictions of human features. So the miniature of Joseph in the banquet given for his wedding, though not an actual portrait of Ebrāhim Mirzā, could be seen as reflecting an actual event in the life of that young Safavid prince (Figure 1; Simpson, pp. 142-45).

After the 1630s, the sole commission by Shah Ṭahmāsp (r. 1524-76), perhaps the most influential patron of Persian painting (Diba, p. 169), was an illustrated Fāl-nāma (q.v.) “Book of divination,” which contains a painting of Joseph enthroned (Lowery, pp. 120-21). The appeal of Zolayḵā’s love for Joseph as a Sufi allegory underlay the execution of almost countless laconic miniatures of Joseph that illustrated commercially produced versions of Jāmi’s romance, including some whose Persian text was transliterated into another script, such as Hebrew (Taylor, pp. 34-38; Figure 2). Shiraz (Richard, p. 137) and kashmir were the two principal centers of production. A manuscript of Jāmi’s Yusof o Zolayḵā produced in Kashmir in the 18th century contains more than seventy miniatures (Ådahl, p. 12). Miniatures of Joseph continued to illustrate the Bustān of Saʿdi (Canby, p. 130), other Persian classics such as the Divān of Ḥāfeẓ (q.v.; Madraimov, III, p. 15), or works with religious and mythical narratives that invoked Joseph’s story, like Mirḵᵛānd’s Rawżat al-Ṣafā (Milstein, p. 15). Images of Joseph from the later Safavid period are also extant in the wall paintings at the Čehel Sotun (q.v.) palace in Isfahan (Blair and Bloom, p. 195), as well as in single-sheet drawings and portraits that became especially popular from the beginning of the 17th century (Welch, p. 302). The illustration “Zolayḵā meeting Yusof in her newly built palace” in the Golšan anthology (a collection of prose and poetry with 100 miniature illustrating episodes described in poems) from the Zand era (1750-79), paradoxically retains the two-dimensional flatness of earlier schools at the same time as it exhibits devices of European painting such as perspective (Akimushkin, pp. 163-64). The paintings of “Joseph with a pair of gazelles” in oil on canvas from the 19th century reflects the prominence of life-size painting during the Qajar period (Diba, p. 169; Ekhtiar, p. 194; Figure 3). The definitive development affecting the portrayal of Joseph in the Qajar period is its inclusion, along with heroes of the Šāh-nāma and the martyrs of Karbalā in what is commonly referred to as the coffee- house paintings (naqqāši-e qahva-ḵāna; Floor, 139). This trend in painting continues, mostly on canvas, into the present time (Sayf, pp. 98-101).

Bibliography:

Karin Ådahl, “A Copy of the Divan of Mir ʿAli Shir Navaʾi of the Late Eighteenth Century in the Lund University Library and the Kashmiri School of Miniature Painting,” in Robert Hillenbrand, ed., Persian Painting from the Mongols to the Qajars, Studies in Honor of Basil W. Robinson, New York, 2000.

Oleg F. Akimushkin, “Manuscript of the ‘Gulshan’ Anthology,” in Layla S. Diba, ed., Royal Persian Paintings: The Qajar Epoch, 1785-1925, London, 1998, pp. 163-64.

Arthur J. Arberry, Classical Persian Literature, London, 1958.

Michael Barry, Figurative Art in Medieval Islam and the Riddle of Bihzâd of Herat 1465-1535, Paris, 2004. Sheila S. Blair and Jonathan M. Bloom, The Art and Architecture of Islam 1250-1800, New Haven, 1995.

Edward G. Browne, A Literary History of Persia, 4 vols., Cambridge, 1902-24.

Sheila R. Canby, Princes, Poets and Paladins: Islamic and Indian Paintings from the Collections of Prince and Princess Sadruddin Aga Khan, London, 1998.

Dick Davis, “Sufism and Poetry: A Marriage of Convenience?” Edebiyat 10, 1999, pp. 279-92.

Maryam Ekhtiar, “Portrait of Sultan Muhammad Mirza Sayf al- Dawleh,” in Layla S. Diba, “Early Qajar Period,” in idem, ed., Royal Persian Paintings: The Qajar Epoch, 1785-1925, London, 1998, pp. 193-94.

Willem Floor, “Art (Naqqashi) and Artists (Naqqashan) in Qajar Persia,” Muqarnas 16, 1999, pp. 125-144.

Lisa Golombek, “Toward a Classification of Islamic Painting,” in Richard Ettinghausen, ed., Islamic Art in the Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York, 1982, pp. 23-34.

Claus-Peter Haase, A Collector’s Fortune: Islamic Art from the Collection of Edmund de Unger, Munich, 2007.

Robert Hillenbrand, Imperial Images in Persian Painting: A Scottish Arts Council Exhibition, Edinburgh, 1977.

Abu’l-Ḥasan ʿAli b. ʿOṯmān Jollābi Hojviri Ḡaznavi, Kašf al-maḥjub, ed., Valentin A Zhukovkiĭ, Saint Petersburg, 1899; repr., Tehran, 2003.

Nur-al-Din ʿAbd-al-Raḥmān Jāmi, Maṯnawi-e Haft owrang, ed. Aʿlā Khan Afṣaḥzād etc., 2 vols., Tehran, 1997-99.

Glenn D. Lowry, A Jeweler’s Eye: Islamic Arts of the Book from the Vever Collection, Washington, D.C., 1988.

A. Madraimov, Sh. Musaev, and Elmira M. Ismailova, Oriental Miniatures: The Collection of the Beruni Institute of Oreintal Studies of the Academy of Sciences of the Republic of Uzbekistan, 3 Vols., Tashkent, 2001-04.

Rachel Milstein, Miniature Painting in Ottoman Baghdad, Costa Mesa, Calif., 1990.

Aḥmad Monzawi, Fehrest-e nosḵahā-ye ḵaṭṭi-e fārsi, 5 vols. in 7, Tehran, 1969-74. Francis Richard, Splendeurs persanes: manuscrits du XIIe au XVIIe siècle, Catalog of an exhibition held at the Bibliothèque nationale de France, Paris, 27 November 1997-1 March 1, 1998, Paris, 1997.

Hādi Sayf, Naqqāši-e qahwa-ḵāna, Tehran, 1990.

Marianna Shreve Simpson, Sultan Ibrahim Mirza’s Haft Awrang: A Princely Manuscript from Sixteenth-Century Iran, New Haven, 1997.

Ḏabiḥ-Allāh Ṣafā, Tāriḵ-e adabiyāt dar Irān, 5 vols. in 8, Tehran, 1959-92; I-II abr. ed., Tehran, 2000.

Annemarie Schimmel, A Two-Colored Brocade: The Imagery of Persian Poetry, Chapel Hill, North Carolina, 1992.

Alice Taylor, Book Arts of Isfahan: Diversity and Identity in Seventeeth-Century, Malibu, Calif., 1995.

Anthony Welch, “Worldly and Otherworldly Love in Safavid Painting,” in Robert Hillenbrand, ed., Persian Painting From the Mongols to the Qajars, Studies in Honor of Basil W. Robinson, New York, 200

(Chad Kia)

Originally Published: June 15, 2009

(Multiple Authors) Originally Published: June 15, 2009

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YUSOF O ZOLAYḴĀ

JOSEPH i. IN PERSIAN LITERATURE

As a love story with religious overtones, the romance of Yusof and Zolayḵā has always been among the very favorite themes of Persian poets.

JOSEPH

i. IN PERSIAN LITERATURE

The same general theme is elaborated on in his Ḥa-diqat al-ḥaqiqa with expressive religious exhortations. He calls the Qurʾān the rope that man’s wisdom may use to save him from the abyss that the trickery of Satan has made him remain, as Joseph was from the well into which he had fallen through the duplicity of his brothers. Thus, man will reach salvation and bliss like Joseph when he can discover the hidden secrets of the Qurʾān (Sanāʾi, Ḥadiqa, pp. 178, vv. 11-12, 15-18, 179, vv. 4-6, 492, v. 4; Purnāmdāriān, p. 41). Joseph’s story in other Sufi works is mostly along the same lines as that which one finds in the poetry of Sanāʾi, distinct only in terms of the imagery and poetic expressions. For instance, Shaikh Farid-al- Din ʿAṭṭār (d. 1221, q.v.) refers to the transcendental world as Meṣr-e jān (the Egypt/city of souls), Meṣr-e ʿālam-e jān, and Meṣr-e ʿezzat (the Egypt/city of glory; Divān, p. 828, p. 5; Moṣibat-nāma, pp. 134, v. 19, 175, v. 18; Manṭeq al-ṭayr, p. 37, v. 659). According to him, the Joseph of soul, which must return to the Meṣr-e jān from his captivity in the abyss of this world, succeeds in this pursuit only when he has replaced the lascivious spirit (nafs-e ammāra) by the Solomon of pure soul on the throne of his existence (ʿAṭṭār, Asrār-nāma, p. 99, vv. 1605-09). Thus, he will be able to release the truthful Joseph of pure soul from this dusty residence and set him on the throne in the Egypt of glory (ʿAṭṭār, Manṭeq al-ṭayr, p. 37, vv. 656-59). Elsewhere, ʿAṭṭār uses Joseph as the symbol of the beloved in the profane love of those who consider divine love, which is the one and only true love, beyond the reach of man (ʿAṭṭār, Manṭeq al-ṭayr, pp. 58-60, vv. 1035- 37, 1043-55; Foruzānfar, Šarḥ-e aḥwāl, p. 360). In most mystical interpretations of the story, however, Joseph, or the human soul, is able to be in command of the higher universe through self mortification, and that is when the soul that has reached perfection leaves its physical prison and returns to its original abode (Dārābi, p. 40).

Versified versions of the story. The composition of versified romantic epics dates from the early phase of the history of Persian poetry (e.g., Wāmeq and ʿĀḏrā, attributed to ʿOnṣori, now lost; the love romance of “Bižan o Maniža” in the Šāh-nāma; see Ṣafā, II, pp. 359-61). The earliest versified version of the romance of Joseph in Persian (Yusof o Zolayḵā), now lost, was composed by the 10th-century poet Abu’l- Moʾayyad Balḵi (q.v., Ṣafā, I, pp. 402-3; for him, see Tāriḵ-e Sistān, p. 35; ʿAwfi, II, p. 26). More versified versions were composed during the following centuries, all of which, bearing the same title of Yusof o Zolayḵā, were based on the Qurʾānic narrative (chap. 12). The first version is the one that is attributed to Ferdowsi (q.v.) by some copyist (q.v.; Ṣafā, I, p. 490), a view taken at face value by a number of scholars, including Theodore Nöldeke (tr. ʿAlawi, pp. 53- 54), Hermann Ethé (pp. 58-59), and Edward G. Browne (II, pp. 146- 47, III, p. 532). Some scholars have considered such attribution only a possibility (Ritter, pp. 39-40; Mortażawi, p. 158). More recent scholarship, however, has demonstrated that the attribution of this work to Ferdowsi is totally unfounded (Minovi, pp. 48-49; Ṣafā, I, pp. 489-90; Ḥāfeẓ Širāni, 1968, pp. 310 ff.; Riāḥi, p. 104; Mortażawi, pp. 157-81). It is the work of a poet known probably by the name of Amāni or Šamsi, who composed it for his patron, Šams-al-Din Ṭoḡānšāh b. Alp Arslān Saljuqi, who had released the poet from the prison “in which he had been held like Joseph” (Minovi, pp. 49-68; Nafisi, I, pp. 41, 53-54).

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(Asghar Dadbeh)

Originally Published: June 15, 2009

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YUSOFI, GHOLAM-HOSAYN prominent scholar of Persian literature and history, literary critic, and outstanding university professor.

YUSOFI, GHOLAM-HOSAYN (Ḡolām-Ḥosayn Yusofi, b. Mashad, 2 Bahman 1306 Š./23 January 1928; d. Tehran, 14 Āḏar 1369 Š./5 December 1990; Figure 1), prominent scholar of Persian literature and history, literary critic, and outstanding university professor.

LIFE Gholam-Hosayn was born to ʿĀbed and Ḥešmat Yusofi in Mashad. His father died when he was only four years old. He and his elder sister, ʿEṣmat, were raised by their mother, who ensured they got a quality education. His sister became a teacher, and subsequently the principal of Šāhdoḵt School in Mashad. Yusofi completed his primary education at Mashad’s ʿOnṣori School in 1940. He often mentioned his sister and also Sayyed Moḥammad Ašrafzāda, ʿOnṣori’s schoolmaster, as those who instilled in him the desire for reading and learning (Yusofi, 2007a, pp. 821-26). His sister had made arrangements with bookstores in the neighborhood so that he could rent books from them as he wished. Ašrafzāda encouraged him to read and take notes, and he put him in charge of the school’s small library (Yusofi, 1977, p. 823). Yusofi received his high school diploma from Shah Reza High School in 1946 (Dehbāši, 1990, p. 7). During those years, he also studied theology, Arabic grammar, and prosody (Yāḥaqqi, 2009b, p. 7).

In 1946, Yusofi moved to Tehran to study at the Faculty of Letters and Humanities of the University of Tehran. There, he found the opportunity to attend classes given by such renowned scholars of Persian and Arabic language and literature as Moḥammad-Taqi Bahār, Badiʿ -al-Zamān Foruzānfar, and Jalāl Homāʾi. Yusofi received his Bachelor’s degree in Persian language and literature in 1949 and entered the doctoral program at the Faculty of Letters and Humanities in the same year. He defended his doctoral dissertation on “Description of Nature in Persian Poetry” under the supervision of Foruzānfar on 8 September 1956. He also earned a Bachelor’s degree in Law (1950) and one in Political Science (1951) from the University of Tehran (Ḡolāmzāda, pp. 8-9).

Yusofi’s lifelong involvement with teaching and education began early. During his primary school years, as the top student in class, he was entrusted with helping other students with their assignments. While studying at the University of Tehran, he also attended the Teachers Training College. He was employed in 1950 by the Ministry of Education as a high school teacher in Mashad to teach Persian literature and Arabic language. In 1953, the Ministry of Education sent him to the United States to study and survey the American education system. Upon returning to Iran in 1954, he was assigned to supervise the teachers training programs, as well as the model schools (madāres-e nemuna) in Khorasan province. He also headed Khorasan’s Teachers’ Training School for a brief period of time in 1957 (Farḵonda payām, p. IX).

In 1955, while he was working on his dissertation, the University of Mashad’s (later, renamed Ferdowsi University) Faculty of Letters and Humanities was inaugurated. Yusofi joined the Faculty and taught part-time at the Department of Persian Language and Literature (Yāḥaqqi, 2009b, p. 9). He was employed by the University as a tenured associate professor (Letter no. 629, 1336/6/17 Danešgāh-e Mashad) after defending his dissertation in 1956, and was promoted to full professor in 1963. Yusofi married Niku Bāzargān in November 1958. Her loving care and support for Yusofi proved instrumental in his outstanding academic achievements that followed. They had two daughters, Rowšanak (1960) and Soruš (1969).

Yusofi chaired the Department of Persian Language and Literature from 1964 to 1977, with a brief hiatus in 1972-1973, when he was invited to spend his sabbatical leave at Columbia University in New York and teach Persian literature for two semesters. Enthusiastic student response led to an extension of the invitation for a third semester (Yarshater, p. 704). Yusofi’s tenure in Ferdowsi University’s Department of Persian Language and Literature proved most rewarding. There he founded the first graduate program in Persian language and literature outside the University of Tehran—a masters course in 1970, followed by a fully-fledged doctoral program in 1976. He relinquished the Department's chairmanship in 1977 but continued to serve as director of its graduate program.

Yusofi took a keen interest in cultural and literary journals. In 1952, when he was twenty four, he founded the literary-cultural monthly journal Nāma-ye farhang in Mashad and served as its editor for two years (Ḡolāmzāda, p. 9). He continued his collaboration with the journal for many years. During this period he also collaborated with two other literary journals in Khorasan; Hirmand and Āftāb-e šarq. Yusofi was instrumental in founding, in 1965, the journal of the Faculty of Letters and Humanities, entitled Majalla-ye dāneškada-ye adabiyāt va ʿolum-e ensāni-e dānešgāh-e Ferdowsi (MDAF), and continued his collaboration with the journal until retirement. He was among the few academics that were intimately involved in and knew the technical aspects of printing and publishing. In his youth, he worked in a printing facility in Mashad, and throughout his life he personally checked and proofread his own works (Nāẓerānpur, pp. 207-12). Among Yusofi’s accomplishments was the formation of the University of Mashad Press in 1960, where he was appointed director, a position he held until September 1965 (Yāḥaqqi, 2009b, pp. 10-11).

Yusofi had formal training in calligraphy and wrote in attractive šekasta nastaʿliq style. His mastery of the art went beyond writing; he was also well informed on the history and evolution of Persian and Arabic calligraphy and contributed the entry on calligraphy to the Encyclopædia Iranica (Ⅳ, 1989, pp. 680-718). Yusofi also had a keen interest in Persian classical music and played the tār in his youth. He knew various modes of Persian classical music and had a large collection of works by masters of the music. His intimate knowledge of Persian classical music was demonstrated in the piece he wrote regarding the renowned vocalist Ḡolām-Ḥosayn Banān’s music after his passing in March 1990 (Yusofi, 1991a, pp. 43-47). There was also another aspect to Yusofi’s interest in Persian music. He believed that Persian poetry could not be properly learned and absorbed without knowledge of Persian music. He encouraged his students to listen to and appreciate the internal music of Persian poetry and familiarize themselves with it (Purḵāleqi-Čatrudi, p. 74).

In February of 1979, shortly after the Islamic Revolution, Yusofi requested retirement after 29 years of service at Ferdowsi University. He retired on 23 September 1979 and moved to Tehran. Relieved of his teaching duties, he devoted his time exclusively to research and writing and produced some of his most significant works during the eleven years that remained of his life. His life was cut short by cancer, to which he succumbed on 5 December 1990 in Tehran; and he was buried in Mashad. Yusofi’s impressive personal library was bequeathed to the Faculty of Letters and Humanities of the Ferdowsi University.

WORKS

Yusofi’s scholarly work covered a wide range of topics, such as historical research into Persian literature and culture, editing of classical Persian manuscripts, literary criticism, and translations into Persian of English, French, and Arabic scholarly works, as well as poetry and fiction.

Critical edition of classical texts. Yusofi’s editing of Persian classical manuscripts began with the Qābus-nāma of Kaykāvus b. Eskandar b. Qābus b. Vošmgir, Amir ʿOnṣor-al-Maʿāli, which was published in 1966 by the Bongāh-e Tarjoma va Našr-e Ketāb as part of the Institute’s Persian Texts series (Majmuʿa-ye motun-e fārsi), “the first attempt in Iran to publish, in uniform binding, critical edition of Persian non-published texts or texts published in uncritical editions” (Joseph, pp. 351-55). Yusofi prepared his edition on the basis of five of the earliest manuscripts. Of those, the earliest from the Fāteḥ collection, housed in the Suleymaniye Library in Istanbul (625/1227), had been discovered and microfilmed by Mojtabā Minovi while a resident in Turkey from 1951 to 1958 (de Bruijn, Kaykāvus b. Eskandar, 2010).

Yusofi was influenced by and made extensive use of Saʿid Nafisi’s views, especially in notes and comments on the text. In all, 190 Persian and Arabic sources, as well as 27 English, French, and German sources were consulted in Yusofi’s edition (Ḡolāmzāda, p. 107). The comprehensive glossaries at the end of the book, including those on the Persian poems and on Arabic names and phrases made the book particularly useful to today’s readers and scholars. Yusofi’s edition of Qābus-nāma is believed to be the definitive work on the text, and to date no other scholar has attempted to offer another edition. The success of this work led to the publishing of several selections of Qābus-nāma by various publishers, intended for the younger and general readers, as listed below (see Bibliography). The earliest of them was published at Ehsan Yarshater’s initiative for university and high school students (Montaḵab-e Qābus-nāma, Tehran, 1968), and the latest in 2001 as part of Persian Literary Heritage series (Mirāṯ-e Adab-e Fārsi) that Yusofi himself had initiated. Qābus-nāma was selected as the book of the year in literary research in 1966 (Afšār, 2004, p. 708).

Yusofi’s critical edition of Taqwim al-ṣeḥḥa, a synopsis of hygiene and medicine in the form of tables by Ebn Boṭlān Baḡdādi (1038- 1075), appeared in Tehran in 1971 (Ḵadiv-jam, 1971, pp. 549-50). The edition was based on a translation of the book into Persian by an unknown author. Yusofi’s edition of the book does not include an explanation of terms and phrases, but is preceded by a long introduction and followed by a comprehensive glossary of names of drugs, foods, and phrases. It was followed by the publication of the Laṭāʾef al-hekma of Serāj-al-Din Maḥmud Ormavi (Tehran, 1972). Yusofi’s footnotes on Laṭaʿef mainly address terminology of the text rather than the theological and philosophical terms used in the text.

The most significant contribution of Yusofi in the critical edition of Persian classical texts is his work on Saʿdi’s Bustān, Golestān, and Ḡazals (see Ḡazal). The first two include comprehensive apparatus criticus, as well as explanations and clarifications of the text, whereas the latter only includes the variants. The author’s untimely death deprived the readers of his invaluable explanations and remarks on the intricacies of Ḡazalhā (for a critical commentary on the book, see Kāvus Ḥasanli, 2009). Yusofi’s base copy in editing of Bustān and Golestān was one dated 720-21/1320, whereas in Ḡazalhā he had access to an older manuscript dated 706/1306 (Yusofi, 2006, XXV- XXVI). He also used nine other variants as well as all the commentaries and research done on Bustān in European languages. He further sought and cited many of the sources that influenced Saʿdi’s thoughts (Ḡolāmzāda, p. 132). The first edition of Bustān (Saʿdi-nāma) was published in 1980 in Tehran by the Anjoman-e Ostādān-e Zabān o Adabiyāt-e Fārsi (Society of scholars of Persian language and literature). In Golestān, first published in 2005, Yusofi used sixteen variants other than his base copy. Here, internal substantiation is widely used in the apparatus criticus and in comments and clarifications on the text (Ḥasanli, 2001, p. 645). Yusofi’s Golestān has earned the praise of critics and scholars as the best critical edition of the book (Lewis, p. 85; Šariʿat, 1990-91, p. 392). Dāmani az gol, a selection of Golestān, first published in 1993 as part of Mirāṭ-e adab-e fārsi, continues to be published and widely used in schools and universities.

Yusofi’s Bustān also remains to date the most accurate edition of the work. The detailed explanations of poems made it especially popular in schools and universities. Ḵˇārazmi Publications acquired the right to Bustān and continues to publish new editions of Yusofi’s work. The success of the book led to the introduction of a selection from the Bustān, as Dar ārezu-ye ḵubi o zibāʾi (Gozida-ye Bustān), which was published by Soḵan Publishers in 2004 as part of Mirāṯ-e adab-e fārsi series, with an introduction by the editor, entitled “Seyri dar Bustān.” Like other works by Yusofi, Bustān and Golestān were widely received and highly praised by the literary community. There were also some criticisms of his works, most notably in Jaʿfar Moʿayyad Širāzi’s Bāzyāft-e bustānhā-ye Saʿdi (Shiraz, 1998), Reżā Anzābi- nežād’s “Golestān-e Saʿdi,” Kayhān-e farhangi 6/10, Dey 1368 Š./January 1990, pp. 38-39), and Moḥammad Jaʿfar Šariʿat’s “Seyri dar Golestān,” MDAF, 23/3-4, Pāʾiz-Zemestān 1369 Š./Autumn 1990- Winter 1991, pp. 391-415).

Yusofi’s edition of Ḡazalhā was published posthumously in 2006. His style and method of editing classical Persian manuscripts deserve particular mention; except for Laṭāʾef al-ḥekma and Taqwim al-ṣeḥḥa, of which there were only one extant manuscript, in the rest of his works (Qābus-nāma, Bustān, Golestān, Ḡazalhā, and al-Taṣfiya), his method is copy-text editing. He was influenced by Moḥammad Qazvini, the pioneer of critical editing of Persian classical texts in Iran, in that he chose, as a rule, the oldest manuscript as the base copy. Unlike Qazvini, however, Yusofi allowed for personal judgement and, if necessary, would opt for a later manuscript as the base copy (Ḥamidiān, 1982, pp. 35-36). Literature and literary criticism. Yusofi’s first major book on Persian literature was Farroḵi Sistāni: baḥṯi dar šarḥ-e aḥvāl o ruzgār o šeʿr-e u (A discussion of the life and times and poetry of Farroḵi Sistāni), published in 1962. The 681-page book about the celebrated court poet of Maḥmud b. Sebuktegin, the Ghaznavid ruler, gives an account of the poet’s youth and his contemporaries who were at the service of rulers and kings. It then proceeds to describe in detail the social, political, and cultural milieu of Maḥmud’s reign, a discussion that is indispensable for the final section of the book on Farroḵi’s poetry. Yusofi used a wide range of sources, including Persian classical texts and manuscripts, historical accounts in Persian, Arabic, English, French, and German, and works on literary criticism. In spite of the use of authoritative and wide-ranging sources, the book lacks a comprehensive bibliography (Ḡolāmzāda, p. 32), uncharacteristic of Yusofi’s works. It was chosen by Anjoman-e Ketāb (The Book Society of Iran), as the book of the year on literary research in 1962 (Yarshater, p. 704).

In Didāri bā ahl-e qalam (Visiting the writers; vol. I, 1976, vol. II, 1979), which was published after ʿAbd-al-Ḥosayn Zarrinkub’s Bā kārevān-e ḥolla on major works of Persian poetry (Tehran, 1964), Yusofi introduces twenty major works of Persian prose. Each volume includes ten works. The first volume discusses such classical works as Bayhaqi’s History, the Safar-nāma of Nāṣer-e Ḵosrow, Neẓām-al- Molk’s Siāsat-nāma, and the Golestān of Saʿdi. The second volume deals with more contemporary works, including the Siāḥat-nāma of Ebrāhimbeyk, Čarand parand by Dehḵodā, and the writings of Sadeq Hedayat. Each chapter begins with an introduction of the works of the author in review, followed by the critical analysis of one or more of the author’s works (Qayṣari, 1979, pp. 71-72). Yusofi’s Didāri bā aḥl-e qalam was praised as the first such work on Persian prose (Aḥmadi Birjandi, 1977, p. 269). Čašma-ye rowšan; didāri bā šāʿerān (The clear fountain: visiting the poets; Figure 2), first published in 1990, is comprised of 72 chapters, each dealing with a selected poem from 70 Persian-speaking poets. It includes poems from the early classical period, such as Rudaki and Ferdowsi, to contemporary works by Fereydun Tavallai, Forugh Farrokhzad, Ahmad Shamlu, and Nader Naderpour. Čašma-ye rowšan secured for itself an outstanding position for a number of reasons; unlike other works on Persian poetry that typically dealt with biographies of poets, Čašma-ye rowšan deals with one poem from each poet (except for Saʿdi and Rumi, from each of whom two poems are selected). Each poem is analyzed in terms of content, form, music, etc. Yusofi’s analytical approach in Čašma-ye rowšan demonstrates his literary knowledge of both classical and contemporary periods. At a time when believers in classical and modern Persian poetry ignored or rejected each other, Čašma-ye rowšan dealt with both (Ḥātami, p. 143) and guided “the discourse on the new poetry away from the polemics of the 1960s” (Karimi-Hakkak, p. 5). Furthermore, it deals with the subject with fairness, emphasizing the essence of art within each genre, rather than other considerations that arise out of bias and prejudice (Dabāši, p. 741).

Translations. Yusofi translated many articles and several books into Persian from French, English, and Arabic. His translations of scholarly works were mainly of literature and literary criticism and included, from French, Henri Massé, Essai sur le Poète Saadi (1919), as Taḥqiq dar bāra-ye Saʿdi (with Moḥammad Ḥassan Mahdavi Ardabili, Tehran, 1985; Figure 3), and from English, Rene Wellek and Austin Warren, Theory of Literature (1956), as Čašmandāzi az adabiyāt o honar (with Moḥammad Taqi Ṣadaqiāni, Tehran, 1991). His translation from English of David Daiches’ Critical Approaches to Literature (1981), as Šivahā-ye naqd-e adabi (with Moḥammad Taqi Ṣadaqiāni, Tehran, 1988), won the book of the year award in the field of translation (Yāḥaqqi, 2009c, p. 229). In fiction, Yusofi’s translations included a novel from French, Gilbert Cesbron’s Mais, moi je vous aimais (1977), as Ammā man šomā rā dust midāštam (with Moḥammad Ḥassan Mahdavi Ardabili, Tehran, 1983). He also translated from Arabic Nezār Qabbāni’s Qeșșati maʿa al-šeʿr (1988), as Dāstān-e man o šeʿr (Tehran, 1979), and Moḥammad M. Badawi’s Moḵtārāt men al-šeʿr al-ʿarabi al-ḥadiṯ (1969), as Gozida-ʾi az šeʿr-e ʿarabi-e moʿāṣer (Tehran, 1990), both with Yusof Ḥosayn Bakkār. Yusofi’s lucid translations are generally accompanied with extensive footnotes, and description of unfamiliar terms and phrases with references to the sources of the authors. As with other Yusofi’s works, his translations were widely reviewed and highly praised. However, his translation of Critical Approaches to Literature was criticized for loose rendering into Persian of technical terms and imprecise footnotes (Ḥosayni, pp. 32-36).

Other works. Yusofi’s earliest work was an illustrated exercise book for first-year elementary Persian (Tamrin-e fārsi barāye kelās-e avval), which he published with three colleagues in 1955 when he was twenty-eight years old. Seemingly insignificant, it nevertheless marks the beginning of his life-long commitment to both teaching and exploring the Persian language.

First published in 1966, his Abu Moslem Sardār-e Ḵorāsān, is a historical research on the popular Iranian character, who had been instrumental in ending the Arab Omayyad rule and bringing the Abbasid Caliphate to power. Despite Abu-Moslem’s popularity, there had never been any scholarly research done on this larger-than-life character. His life story, therefore, was sketchy and shrouded in myths and exaggerations found in such popular accounts as the Abu Moslem-nāma of Abu Ṭāher Ṭarsusi (or Ṭarṭusi), in which Abu Moslem has been turned into “a mythical upholder of right and suppressor of tyranny and injustice (Yusofi, 1983, p. 343). Yusofi’s work remains to date as the sole scholarly historical research done exclusively on Abu Moslem. Based on over 131 sources, it makes use of all available Persian and Arabic primary sources as well as works done by Iranian and European scholars (Yusofi, 1999, pp. 216- 27). The book gives a concise, yet detailed account of Abu Moslem’s early days, his rise to power, his role in toppling the Omayyad rule in Iran and installing the Abbasids in power and serving under them, his demise and eventual death under the Abbasids, as well as the later movements that emerged motivated by revenge. The book was also published in 1978 as part of Ketāb-e javānān (Book for the Youth) series under the supervision of Moḥammad ʿAli Eslāmi Nodušan. Yusofi eliminated all the in-text references and scholarly details and moved them to the end of the book. Yet, the heavily researched book that encapsulates a vast range of material in 178 pages, as well as the sheer number of names of people and places attracts mostly serious scholars and not its intended audience, the youth.

Aside from works cited above, Yusofi’s life-long research is also reflected in some 292 articles published in academic journals and encyclopedias, twenty six of them entries contributed to the Encyclopaedia Iranica (see Bibliography). There are also over thirty- six papers in the proceedings of international conferences he attended and lectures he gave at academic gatherings and universities over the years (Farḵonda payām, pp. X-XXII; Yāḥaqqi, ed., 2009c, pp. 230-66, 271-74).

Yusofi’s articles ranged from the purely technical regarding manuscripts to inspirational pieces on Persian music and literature. Many of his articles and papers were later published as books. Nāma-ye aḥl-e Ḵorāsān (1967), the first of such books, included sixteen articles on poetry and literature, manuscripts, travel accounts, translations, and book reviews. It was followed by Barghāʾi dar āḡuš- e bād in two volumes in 1977, which included 65 articles (28 in vol. I, and 37 in vol. II). In the first volume, eight articles deal with aspects of Ferdowsi’s Šāh-nāma, thirteen are reviews of classical Persian poetry and prose, and the rest are commentaries on the works of more contemporary figures such as Malek al-šoʿrāʾ Bahār, Żabiḥ-Allah Ṣafā, and Sadeq Chubak. The articles offer a wealth of information on the sources Yusofi consulted in formulating his concepts, and the criteria he took into consideration while commenting on literary texts. The second volume includes articles on Persian language and culture, history, book reviews, and travel diaries of the author. Kāḡaḏ- e zar: yāddāšthā-yi dar adab o tāriḵ was first published in 1984. It includes fourteen articles on literature and history, a number of which had been published before (Yusofi, 2007b, pp. 7-8). Seven of these articles were entries in the Encyclopedia of Iran and Islam (Dāneš- nāma-ye Irān va Eslām), and the Encyclopædia Iranica, both edited by Ehsan Yarshater. Yāddāšthā; majmuʿa-ye maqālāt was the fourth in the collection of articles series that was published in 1991, shortly after the author’s death. It is a collection of twenty-five short articles on a variety of topics ranging from the music of the Iranian vocalist Ḡolām-Ḥosayn Banān to theories on poetry, most of which appeared for the first time in this collection (Yusofi, 1991b, p. 5). Finally in these collections, there is Yāddāšthāʾi dar zamina-ye farḥang o tāriḵ (Tehran, 1992), which is Persian translation of entries that Yusofi wrote for the Encyclopaedia Iranica. Yusofi had high regards for the Encyclopaedia Iranica and its editor and contributed twenty-six entries to it, most of them in the final years of his life.

Throughout his career as a university professor, Yusofi emphasized the importance of methodology in doing research and also of evaluating sources. The graduate courses he offered on research and methodology were most useful to students who were about to embark on writing their dissertations. His notes on two of the mentioned courses were published posthumously in Yāddāšthā-ye dars-e manābeʿ o raveš-e taḥqiq dar adabiyāt o farhang-e Irān, va tāriḵ-e taṣavvof-e Eslāmi (2009). The breadth of Yusofi’s knowledge and his wide ranging interests gave his prose a colorful and vivid character. His prose is flowing and refined. It is graceful and rich. He noted the great potential of the Persian language in producing new vocabulary through its suffixes, prefixes, and compounds. In “Zabān-e Ferdowsi o zabān-e mā” (Yusofi, MDAF 10/4, 1975, pp. 545-64), he demonstrated how Ferdowsi made extensive use of this potential in Persian language for creating new vocabulary and in expressing new concepts and ideas. His numerous articles on writing in and translating into Persian demonstrate his passion for elegant prose and were frequently praised by masters of Persian fiction and the literary community (Jamālzāda, 1961, p. 987; Ḥamidiān, 1985, pp. 30-33). Jalāl Matini included four of Yusofi’s pieces in his book Nemunahāʾi az naṭr-e faṣiḥ-e fārsi-e moʿāṣer (Examples of eloquent contemporary Persian prose, pp. 296-98).

Yusofi also wrote poems, but he chose not to publish them. His poems, mostly in the form of eḵvāniyāt, are to be found in literary journals and jongs of other literary figures with whom he had corresponded.

Yusofi was a member of a number of national and international literary and academic societies. He met, consulted with, and/or collaborated with world-renowned scholars, including Ehsan Yarshater, Frantz Taeschner, Henri Massé, Emile Benveniste, Henri Laoust, Jean Aubin, Vladimi Minorsky, Harold Walter Bailey, Reuben Levy, Arthur John Arbery, Anne K. S. Lambton, Bernard Lewis, Meredith Owens, James D. Pearson, and Hubert Darke (Ḡolāmzāda, 2006, p. 287). Yusofi took part in numerous international conferences, and was invited to present lectures at such universities as Columbia, Harvard, and Princeton (see ʿAli Dehbāši ed., Yādgār- nāma-ye Ostād Doktor Ḡolām-Ḥosayn Yusofi, Kelk 8, Ābān, 1369 Š./November 1990).

Ultimately, Yusofi was a teacher. “The most beautiful moments of my life,” he reminisced in the final months of his life, “were those during which I was engaged in teaching. In a class environment, I tend to forget everything else” (Yusofi, 2009, pp. 9-11). He had an interesting philosophy in teaching; he believed in the necessity of loving to teach, loving the students like one’s own children, being sincere and truthful with them, and striving to be an inspiration and a spiritual pillar to them. He believed that without research, teaching would be dull and ineffective. Yet, it went beyond mere transference of knowledge to the students; teaching, he believed, was instrumental in forming the students’ personalities, shaping their values, and building their characters.

Gholam-Hosayn Yusofi had a relatively short life, but had a lasting influence on several generations of students and scholars. He is remembered as an inspirational figure, an exemplary teacher, an outstanding scholar, a literary critic, and a fine human being (Āšuri, 1991, pp. 171-72; Aḥmadi-Birjandi, 1991, pp. 6-8; Atābaki, 1992, pp. 48-60). That his life and scholarship has been the subject of several books and over seventy articles is testimony to his lasting influence on intellectual life in Iran. The books dedicated to Yusofi include: Arj- nāma-ye Ḡolām-Ḥosayn Yusofi: zendegi, āṯār, jostārhā-ye matn- pažuhi (ed., Moḥammad Jaʿfar Yāḥaqqi, Tehran, 2009a); Farḵonda- payām: yādgār-nāma-ye Ostād Doctor Ḡolām-Ḥosayn Yusofi, (Mashad, 1981); Zendegi-nāma va ḵadamāt-e ʿelmi o farhangi-e Ostād-e dānā o pažuhešgar-e tavānā, šādravān Doktor Ḡolām- Ḥosayn Yusofi (ed., Omid Qanbari, Tehran, 2004). Several journals have also dedicated special issues to Yusofi, including, Binālud 1/4-5 (Ābān-Āḏar 1372 Š./November-December 1993); Iranshenasi 2/4 (Zemestān 1369 Š./Winter 1991); Ketāb-e Pāž 3 (Āḏar 1370 Š./December 1991); Ḵāvarān 2 (Dey 1369 Š./January 1991); Kelk 8 (Ābān, 1369 Š./November, 1990); MDAF (Majalla-ye dāneškada-ye adabiyāt va ʿolum-e ensāni-e dānešgāh-e Ferdowsi, 23/3-4, Pāʾiz-Zemestān 1369 Š./Autumn-Winter 1990-1991; MDAF 31/3-4 (Pāʾiz-Zemestān 1377 Š./Autumn 1998-Winter 1999); Rošd: āmuzeš-e zabān o adab-e Fārsi 6/26 (Pāʾiz 1370 Š./Autumn 1991).

For a comprehensive list of articles on Yusofi’s life and scholarship, see Ḡolāmzāda, 2006, pp. 295-300; see also “Fehrest-e maqālāt-e montašer šoda darbāra-ye zendegi va šaḵṣiyat-e ʿelmi-e Doktor Ḡolām-Ḥosayn Yusofi,” in Yāḥaqqi, ed., 2009a, pp. 93-100.

Bibliography:

1. Selected Publications of Gholam-Hosayn Yusofi.

Books:

Tamrin-e fārsi barāye kelās-e avval, (with ʿAbd-al-Ḥosayn Pāzuki, Akbar Qandehāriān, Ḡolām-Reżā Qahremān), Mashad, 1954; 2nd ed., Mashad, 1955. Farroḵi Sistāni: baḥṯi dar aḥvāl o ruzgār o šeʿr-e u, Mashad, 1962; 3rd ed., Tehran, 1994.

Abu-Moslem, Sardār-e Ḵorāsān, Tehran, 1966; 3rd ed., Tehran, 1999.

Nāma-ye ahl-e Ḵorāsān, Tehran, 1967.

Didāri bā ahl-e qalam: dar bāra-ye bist ketāb-e naṯr-e fārsi, Mashad, vol. I, 1976; 2nd ed., Tehran, 1978; vol. II, Mashad, 1978-9; 2 vols., Tehran, 1988; 7th ed., Tehran, 2001; also in Braille, Tehran, 1998.

Barghāʾi dar āḡuš-e bād: majmuʿaʾ-i az maqālahā, pažuhešhā, naqdhā o yāddāšthā, 2 vols. Tehran, 1977; 4th ed., Tehran, 2007.

Yādgār-nāma-ye Ḥabib Yaḡmāʾi (ed., with Moḥammad Ebrāhim Bāstāni Pārizi and Iraj Afšār), Tehran, 1977.

Kāḡaḏ-e zar: yaddāšthāʾi dar bāb-e adab o tāriḵ, Tehran, 1984; 2nd ed., Tehran, 2007.

Čašma-ye rowšan: didāri bā šaʿerān, Tehran, 1990; 11th ed., 2009.

Yāddašthā: majmuʿa-ye maqālāt, Tehran, 1991. Yāddāšthāʾi dar zamina-ye farhang o tāriḵ, Tehran, 1992.

Yāddāšthā-ye dars-e manābeʿ o raveš-e taḥqiq dar adabiyāt o farhang-e Irān va tāriḵ-e taṣavvof-e Eslāmi, ed., Farhād ʿAṭāʾi, Tehran, 2009.

Critical edition of classical texts:

Qābus-nāma, Tehran, 1966; 12th ed., Tehran, 2003.

Montaḵab-e Qābus-nāma, Tehran, 1968.

al-Taṣfia fi aḥvāl al-motaṣawwefa (Sufi-nāma) of Qoṯb-al-Din Amir- Manṣur Moẓaffar b. Ardešir ʿAbbādi, Tehran, 1968; 2nd ed., Tehran, 1987.

Tarjoma-ye taqwim al-ṣeḥḥa (critical edition of a translation of Ebn Boṭlān’s book into Persian by an unknown author), Tehran, 1971; 3rd ed., Tehran, 2003.

Laṭāʾif al-ḥekma, (Serāj-al-Din Maḥmud Ormavi), Tehran, 1972.

Gozida-ye Qābus-nāma, Tehran, 1974; 14th ed., Tehran, 2010.

Bustān-e Saʿdi, Tehran, 1980; 10th ed., Tehran, 2010. Molaḵḵaṣ al-loḡāt, (with Moḥammad Dabirsiāqi), Tehran, 1983.

Golestān-e Saʿdi, Tehran, 1989; 9th ed., Tehran, 2010.

Dāmani az gol: gozida-ye Golestān-e Saʿdi, Tehran, 1991, 13th ed., Tehran, 2008.

Dar ārezu-ye ḵubi o zibāʾi: gozida-ye Bustān-e Saʿdi, Tehran, 1991.

Dars-e zendegi: gozida-ye Qābus-nāma, Tehran, 1993; 8th ed., Tehran, 2000.

Ḡazalhā-ye Saʿdi, Tehran, 2006.

Translations into Persian.

From French:

Marcel A. Boisard, L’humanisme de l’Islam (Paris, 1979), as Ensān- dusti dar Eslām (with Moḥammad Ḥassan Mahdavi Ardabili), Tehran, 1983.

Gilbert Cesbron, Mais, moi je vous aimais (Paris, 1977), as Ammā man šomā rā dust midāštam (with Moḥammad Ḥassan Mahdavi Ardabili), Tehran, 1983.

Henri Massé, Essai sur le Poète Saadi (Paris, 1919), as Taḥqiq dar bāra-ye Saʿdi (with Moḥammad Ḥassan Mahdavi Ardabili), Tehran, 1985.

From Arabic:

Nezār Qabbāni, Qeșșati maʿa al-šeʿr (Beirut, 1988), as Dāstān-e man o šeʿr (with Yusof Ḥosayn Bakkār), Tehran, 1979.

Moḥammad Moṣṭafā Badawi, Moḵtārāt men al-šeʾr al- ʿarabi al-ḥadiṯ (1969), as Gozidaʾi az šeʿr-e ʿarabi-e moʿāṣer (with Yusof Ḥosayn Bakkār), Tehran, 1990.

From English:

Critical Approaches to Literature (London and New York, 1981), as Šivahā-ye naqd-e adabi (with Moḥammad Taqi Ṣadaqiāni), Tehran, 1987; 5th ed., Tehran, 2000.

David Daiches, Theory of Literature (New York, 1956), as Čašmandāzi az adabiyāt o honar (with Moḥammad Taqi Ṣadaqiāni), Tehran, 1991. Encyclopedia entries.

“Abu Bakr Ḥaṣiri”, EIr Ⅰ, 1983, pp. 261-62

“Abu Bakr Qohestāni”, EIr Ⅰ, 1983, p. 264

“Abu Moslem Ḵorāsāni”, EIr Ⅰ, 1983, pp. 341-44

“Abu Sahl Ḥamdovi”, EIr Ⅰ, pp. 1983, 369-70

“Abu Sahl Lakšan”, EIr Ⅰ, 1983, pp. 371-72

“Abu Sahl Zuzani”, EIr Ⅰ, pp. 1983, 373-74

“Aḥmad Maymandi”, EIr Ⅰ, 1984, pp. 650-52

“Andarz-nāma”, EIr ⅠⅠ, pp. 23-24

“Bābak Ḵorrami”, EIr ⅠⅠ, 1988, pp. 299-306

“Badd”, EIr ⅠⅠ, p. 366 “Bāḡ-e Piruzi”, EIr ⅠⅠⅠ, 1988, pp. 401-02

“Bahār”, EIr ⅠⅠⅠ, pp. 1988, 475-76

“Bayhaqi, Abu al-Fażl”, EIr ⅠⅠⅠ, 1988, pp. 889-94

“Bāyrāmšāh”, EIr VI, 1988, p. 5

“Behāfarid”, EIr Ⅳ, 1989, pp. 88-90

“Belqis”, EIr Ⅳ, pp. 1989, 129-30

“Bistgāni”, EIr Ⅳ, pp. 1989, 306-07

“Čāhārbāḡ-e Mashhad”, EIr Ⅳ, 1989, pp. 626-27

“Čahār Maqāla”, EIr Ⅳ, 1989, pp. 621-23

“Calligraphy”, EIr Ⅳ, 1989, pp. 680-718

“Čarand-Parand”, EIr Ⅴ, 1990, pp. 792-95 “Čāvuš”, EIr V, 1990, pp.101-02

“Čehel ṭuṭi”, EIr V, 1990, pp. 117-18

“Čegel”, EIr V, 1990, p. 109

“Historical Lexicon of Persian Clothing” EIr V, pp. 856-65

“Čub ḵaṭṭ”, EIr VI, 1993, p. 449

Yusofi also contributed the entry “Kāšefi” to the Encyclopedia of Islam (EI², Ⅳ, 1978, pp. 704-5.

2. References.

ʿAli Dehbāši, ed., Yādgār-nāma-ye Ostād Doktor Ḡolām-Ḥosayn Yusofi, Kelk, 8, Ābān 1369 Š./November 1990, pp. 3-183.

Idem, “Sāl-šomār-e zendagi-e Doktor Ḡolām-Ḥosayn Yusofi,” Kelk, 8, Ābān 1369 Š./November 1990, p. 7.

Dāriyuš Āšuri, “Yād-e raftagān: Ḡolām-Ḥosayn Yusofi,” Iran Nameh 9/1, Zemestān 1369 Š./Winter 1991, pp. 171-72. Jaʿfar Āqāyāni Čāvoši, “Barrasi-e enteqādi-ye ketāb-e Taḥqiq dar bāra-ye Saʿdi, aṯar-e Hānri Māse, tarjoma-ye Moḥammad Mahdi Fulādvand,” Āyena-ye mirāṯ 5/1, Tābestān 1381 Š./Summer 2002, pp. 53-58.

Iraj Afšār, Nādera-kārān: sug-nāma-ye nāmvarān-e farhangi o adabi, Moḥammad Nikuya, ed., Tehran, 2004.

Idem, Fehrest-e maqālāt-e fārsi, Tehran, 1961-2004.

Aḥmad Aḥmadi-Birjandi, “Qābus-nāma,” Rāhnemā-ye ketāb, 10/5, Šahrivar 1347 Š./September 1968, pp. 494-98.

Idem, “Laṭāʾif al-ḥikma,” Rāhnemā-ye ketāb, 16/4-6, Tir-Šahrivar 1352 Š./July-September 1973, pp. 249-54.

Idem, “Didāri bā ahl-e qalam,” Rāhnema-ye ketāb, 20/3-4, Ḵordād-Tir 1356 Š./June-July 1977, pp. 268-75.

Idem, “Ostād Doktor Yusofi moḥaqeqi nemuna,” Rošd: āmuzeš-e zabān o adab-e Fārsi, 6/26, Pāʾiz 1370 Š./Autumn 1991, pp. 6-8.

Reżā Anzābi-nežād, “Golestān-e Saʿdi,” Kayhān-e farhangi, 6/10, Dey 1368 Š./January 1990, pp. 28-39.

Idem, “Kand-o-kāv dar moškelāt-e motun-e adabi o ʿelmi,” MDAF 30/3-4, Pāʾiz-Zemestān 1377 Š./Autumn 1998-Winter 1999, pp. 569- 71.

Parviz Atābaki, “Az tabār-e ādamiyat,” Ketāb-e Pāž 4, 1371 Š./1992, pp. 48-60.

Moḥammad Taqi Dāneš-pažuh, “Laṭāʾif al-ḥikmat al-ʿEzziya,” Rāhnemā-ye ketāb 16/7-9, Mehr-Āḏar, 1352 Š./October-December, 1973, pp. 536-37.

Ḥamid Dabāši, “Čašma-ye rowšan-e Doktor Ḡolām-Ḥosayn Yusofi,” Iranshenasi 2/4, Zemestān 1369 Š./Winter 1990, pp. 730-41.

J. T. P. de Bruijn, “KAYKĀVUS B. ESKANDAR,” in EIr., online ed., 2010.

ʿAli Dehbāši, ed., “Sāl-šomār-e zendegi-e Doktor Ḡolām-Ḥosayn Yusofi,” in Yādgār-nāma-ye Ostād Doktor Ḡolām-Ḥosayn Yusofi, Kelk 8, Ābān 1369 Š./November 1990.

Farḵonda-payām: yādgār-nāma-ye Ostād Doctor Ḡolām-Ḥosayn Yusofi, Mashad, 1981.

Dāvud Ḡolāmzāda, “Didāri bā čašma-ye rowšan: zendegi, āṯār, ārāʾ va andišahā-ye šādravān Doktor Ḡolām-Ḥosayn Yusofi,” MA. thesis, Ferdowsi University, 2006. Saʿid Ḥamidiān, “Naqd-e Kāḡaḏ-e zar,” Našr-e dāneš, 6/1, Āḏar-Dey 1364 Š./December 1985-January 1986, pp. 30-33.

Idem, “Ḥosn-e ruz-afzun-e Bustān,” Našr-e dāneš 2/4, Ḵordād-Tir 1361 Š./June-July 1982, pp. 32-49.

Kāvus Ḥasanli, Farhang-e Ṣaʿdi-pažuhi, Shiraz, 2001.

Idem, “Kāri nima-tamām az mardi tamām,” in Yāḥaqqi, ed., 2009a, pp. 277-87.

Ḥasan Ḥātami, “Šegerd-e šegarf-e Ostād Yusofi,” Kelk 8, Ābān 1369 Š./November 1990, pp. 143-45.

Manṣur Ḥešmat Moʾayyad, “Kāḡaḏ-e zar,” Iran Nameh 3/4, Tābestān 1364 Š./Summer 1985 , pp. 733-38)

Ṣāleḥ Ḥosayni, “Nedā-ye āḡāz,” Našr-e dāneš 46, Ḵordād-Tir 1367 Š./June-July 1988, pp. 32-36.

Moḥammad ʿAli Jamāl-zāda, “Nāma ba modir-e majalla-ye Rāhnema- ye ketāb,” Rāhnemā-ye ketāb, 4/10, Dey 1340 Š./January 1962, p. 987.

Edward Joseph, “Bongāh-e tarjoma va našr-e ketāb,” in EIr. IV, 1989, pp. 351-55. ʿAziz-Allāh Jovayni, “Qābus-nāma,” Rāhnemā-ye ketāb 14/9-12, Āḏar-Dey 1350 Š./December 1971-January 1972, pp. 802-9.

Idem, “Naqdi bar Taṣfia fi aḥwāl- al-moteṣawwifa,” MDAT, 23/3, Pāʾiz 1355 Š./Autumn 1976, pp. 232-44.

Ahmad Karimi-Hakkak, Recasting Persian Poetry: Scenarios of Poetic Modernity in Iran, Salt Lake City, 1995.

Ḥosayn Ḵadiv-jam, “Tarjoma-ye taqwim al-ṣiḥḥa,” Soḵan 21/5, Āḏar 1350 Š./December 1971, pp. 549-50.

Franklin Lewis, “Golestān-e Saʿdi,” in EIr. XI, 2002, pp. 79-86.

Jalāl Matini ed., Nemunahāʾi az naṭr-e faṣiḥ-e fārsi-e moʿāṣer, Tehran, 1979.

Jaʿfar Moʾayyad Širāzi, Bāzyāft-e bustānhā-ye Saʿdi, Shiraz, 1998.

Maḥmud Nāẓerānpur, apud Yāḥaqqi, ed., 2009a, pp. 207-12.

Moḥammad Nikmaneš, “Naqd o naẓari bar šarḥ o taṣḥiḥ-e abyāti az Bustān-e Saʿdi,” Pažuhešhā-ye adabi, 1/3, Bahār 1383 Š./Spring 2004, pp. 103-13. Mahdoḵt Purḵāleqi-Čatrudi, “Dowrān-e tars o ʿešq,” Zendegi-nāma va ḵadamāt-e ʿelmi o farhangi-ye

Ostād-e dānā o pažuhešgar-e tavānā, Doktor Ḡolāmhosayn Yusofi, Tehran, 2004.

Ebrāhim Qayṣari, “Didāri bā ahl-e qalam,” Āyanda 5/1-3, Bahār 1358 Š./Spring 1979, pp. 70-85.

Moḥammad Javād Šariʿat, “Seyri dar Golestān,” MDAF 22/3-4, Pāʾiz- Zemestān 1369 Š./Autumn 1990-Winter 1991, pp. 391-415.

Moḥammad Jaʿfar Yāḥaqqi, “Dāstān-e man o šeʿr,” Rāhnemā-ye ketāb 21/1-2, Farvardin-Ordibehešt 1355 Š./April-May 1976, pp. 51- 57.

Idem, “Mā ān šaqāyeqim ka bā dāḡ zāda-im,” Kelk 11-12, Bahman- Esfand 1369 Š./February-March 1991, pp. 347-53.

Idem, ed., Arj-nāma-ye Ḡolām-Ḥosayn Yusofi: zendagi, āṯār, jostārhā-ye matn-pažuhi, Tehran, 2009a.

Idem, “Zendegi-nāma-ye Doktor Ḡolām-Ḥosayn Yusofi,” 2009b, in idem, ed., 2009a, pp. 7-21. Idem, “Kār-nāma-ye ʿelmi o āmuzeši-e Doktor Ḡolām-Ḥosayn Yusofi,” 2009c, in idem, ed., 2009a, pp. 225-74.

Ehsan Yarshater, “Ba yād-e dust,” Iranshenasi 2/4, Zemestān 1369 Š./Winter 1991, pp. 700-707.

Ḡolām-Ḥosayn Yusofi, “Yādi az moʿallemi bozorgvār,” Barghāʾi dar āḡuš-e bād: majmuʿaʾ-i az maqālahā, pažuhešhā, naqdhā o yāddāšthā, 2 vols., Mashad, 2007a, pp. 821-26.

Idem, Kāḡaḏ-e zar: yaddāšthāʾi dar bāb-e adab o tāriḵ, Tehran, 1984; 2nd ed., Tehran, 2007b.

Idem, “Āvāz-e Banān,” Kelk, 11-12, 1991a, pp. 43-47.

Idem, Yāddašthā: majmuʿa-ye maqālāt, Tehran, 1991b.

(Farhad Atai)

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Yom le’yom

Yom le’yom 1:22

title Yom le’yom genre/topic language performer Jaakub ibn Esra Kaschi, age 65 in 1911 instrument composer author/poetIsrael Najjara first line of poem yom le’yom uy’de le’shimxa el a’ni recorded by Abraham Zvi Idelsohn place of recording date of recording

December 3, 1911

duration source The Collection of Abraham Zvi Idelsohn (1911-1913), ed. Gerda Lechleitner.Sound Documents from the Phonogrammarchiv of the Austrian Academy of Sciences: The Complete Historical Collections 1899-1950, series 9. Vienna: Verlag der Österreichischen Akademie der Wissenschaften, disc 2, track 10 (from Ph 1608) note

EIr entries Judeo-Persian Communities of Iran xi Music (1) A general survey

(music sample)

Originally Published: December 3, 2014

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Y~ CAPTIONS OF ILLUSTRATIONS list of all the figure and plate images in the Y entries

Y~ ENTRIES: CAPTIONS OF ILLUSTRATIONS

Entry Image Caption

YAḴČĀL

Figure 1. Yaḵčāl, section and plan drawings. After Beazley et al., p. 51. This type of a domed ice-house with shading walls, open-air basin, and water supply system is typical for Yazd province.

YAḴČĀL

Figure 2. Yaḵčāl, outside Birjand, Khorasan province. Color photograph, summer 2007. Courtesy of the author. The pole of a power line stands between the severely decayed twin domes; remnants of crumbling shading walls are visible in the center and on the right.

YAZICI, Tahsin

Figure 1. Photograph of Tahsin Yazıcı.

YUSOFI, GHOLAM-HOSAYN

Figure 1. Photograph of Gholam-Hosayn Yusofi.

YUSOFI, GHOLAM-HOSAYN

Figure 2. Book cover, Češma-ye rowšan.

YUSOFI, GHOLAM-HOSAYN

Figure 3. Book cover, Taḥqiq dar bāra-ye Saʿdi.

(Cross-Reference)

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