Introduction
Scholars and non-academic students of history often view Safavid Iran as a pristine golden age. They consider it to be a time when the Iranian plateau witnessed a peak in imperial power, culture, and prestige. In particular, the era of Shah ʿAbbas I (r. 1588–1629, H. 996–1038) has been read as a foundational moment in the history of a unified Iran. This perception is the result—or rather a composition—of a multiplicity of sources written by different historical entities, which includes, chief among them, the court scribe’s chronicle. Focusing on one chronicle—the Tārīkh-e ʿĀlam-ārā-ye ʿAbbāsī (TAAA), written by ʿAbbas’ court historian and scribe Iskandar Beg Munshi (d. 1632, H. 1042)—this study situates itself at the intersection of Safavid history, environmental history,Footnote 1 and chronicle writing in the early modern Persianate world. It investigates how the natural world was represented in the chronicle, and how such representation shaped the Safavid historical narrative.
To approach this twofold question, I will first define my usage of the “natural world,” which, as reflected in the TAAA, is exterior to the human realm. In contrast to spaces of human experience and domination, especially in contrast to urban centers and the royal court, “nature” is a space that does not lend itself to human domination. Natural manifestations—such as forests, rivers, a pack of gazelles, disease, or an earthquake—cannot be simply controlled, explained, predicted, or contained. In essence, the natural world does not lend itself to human regulation.Footnote 2
The aforementioned definition of the natural world is directly linked to my main argument, which posits that it is within this environment of uncontrolled and unexplained occurrences that Shah ʿAbbas is most needed by his community. The TAAA portrays human encounters with nature in ways that reflect a view of ʿAbbas’ unique sovereignty over this unruly natural realm. Blessed with divine grace from his piety and devotion, he is the only human being with the ability to regulate natural manifestations—that is, to dominate, to manipulate, to survive, and to contain nature.Footnote 3 Against a backdrop of absence pertaining to environmental readings of Safavid history, I suggest looking at the TAAA’s representation of this natural world as a powerful legitimizing force for ʿAbbas’ reign. Additionally, my analysis reveals that agency was attributed to divine as well as human beings, yet not to natural manifestations such as animals. Finally, my reading suggests that the shah’s sovereignty was never a given, but rather it had to be produced and performed, using both humans and the environment as a setting.
There are various reasons why an environmental outlook is vital for a richer account of Safavid history. Manifestations of nature constituted a part of the lived experiences during Safavid times that is impossible to overestimate. Natural disasters, such as earthquakes, have been frequent in the Iranian plateau since time immemorial, and have left a social and cultural mark. Equally important, interactions between human beings and animals have been ubiquitous, and, thus, are bound to have an effect that has not yet been considered as an object of historical analysis. In my opinion, few areas of study are better suited than Safavid historiography to reveal what role representations of nature played in early modern Iranian perceptions of legitimacy. Although it was the subject of some valuable works—such as Sholeh Quinn’s Historical Writing during the Reign of Shah ʻAbbas—the scholarship has not, extensively, dealt with the environmental and natural elements recorded in the different Safavi chronicles.Footnote 4 In much the same way, a preoccupation with environmental history of the early modern Persianate world has yielded phenomenal works—such as Sam White’s The Climate of Rebellion in the Early Modern Ottoman Empire—but it has not thoroughly considered the Safavid case from an environmental perspective.Footnote 5
That is not to say, of course, that an environmental perspective of Safavid historiography forces my study in the way of conceptual separation from what was geographically or temporally remote. Chroniclers of Ottoman, Mughal, and Mamluk histories shared and were well aware of Safavid historians and the chronicles they produced. As this article will occasionally ruminate on, clients of the Ottoman and Mughal crowns—such as Muṣṭafā ʿĀlī (1541–1600, H. 947–1008) and his Künhü'l-Aḫbār, or Abu’l-Fazl (1551–1602, H. 957–1011) and his Akbarnāmah—wrote in tandem with Safavid historians such as Iskandar Beg Munshi. No less important, however, Safavid historians were the inheritors of an abundant Persian literary tradition, and one that abounds with references to the natural world. Indeed, one only needs to choose where to look. For example, in the tale of Laylā and Majnūn, as portrayed by Nizami, we see Majnūn’s excursion into the desert—amongst the wild beasts—as a reflection of his mental state. The contrast between the two protagonists is tantamount to the perceived contrast between desert and garden—or wild and civilized.Footnote 6 Furthermore, epic heroes in the Iranian social imagination—such as Rustam, Garshāsp, Fereydūn, and Bahrām Gūr (Bahrām V)—were rigorously engaged with nature, as predominantly demonstrated through the act of the hunt. Serving as a multifunctional literary trope, the hunt expresses explicit statements regarding their courage, skill, legitimacy, and sovereignty.Footnote 7 Furthermore, poets and prose writers such as Saʿdi could not overlook the hunt’s potential as a heuristic device as well as a dramatic site where both crown and life are at stake—consider for example Saʿdi’s dictum, “Hunters do not bag a jackal every time; but many a day it happens that a leopard tears one of them to bits.”Footnote 8 Such references to natural elements greatly informed the Safavid chroniclers as they endeavored to legitimize their royal patrons.
The initial formation of the Safavid Sufi order is attributed to Shaykh Safi al-Din (d. 1334, H. 734), who rose to prominence in and around Ardabil.Footnote 9 During the fifteenth century, under the leadership of Junayd (d. 1460, H. 864) and Haydar (d. 1488, H. 893), the order became increasingly militarized. It was under the command of Haydar’s son, Ismaʾil (r. 1501–24, H. 906–30), that the territories of the Iranian plateau were reunited under the rule of the Safavid state.Footnote 10 While declaring Twelver Shiʿism the religion of the state, Shah Ismaʾil maintained heterodox court and state practices—allowing his ghulāt Qizilbash supporters considerable freedom and political dominance.Footnote 11 During the reign of Ismaʾil’s son Shah Tahmasb (r. 1524–76, H. 930–984) as well as that of Shah ʿAbbas I, the dynasty gradually shifted from its founder’s mystical and messianic ways toward a more shariʿa-based religious legitimacy. The rule of ʿAbbas I is considered to be the apex of the Safavid state. ʿAbbas left a rich cultural legacy, and he reshaped the Safavid state in Isfahan as its new capital. After his demise, the state struggled—increasingly during the second half of the seventeenth century—to maintain political, social, military, and financial stability, which eventually led to its demise with increased internal and external pressure in 1722 CE (H. 1135) with the Afghan invasion of Isfahan.Footnote 12
My main source for this article, the chronicle Tārīkh-e ʿĀlam-ārā-ye ʿAbbāsī, is considered by many scholars to be one of the most critical sources for the history of early modern Iran, as its author lays out the terms of Safavid rule at a moment of imperial centralization.Footnote 13 As the first section will illustrate, I read this chronicle as a historical narrative designed to legitimize its patron Shah ʿAbbas. Rather than treating its content at face value, I will analyze the strategies it deploys when representing natural elements. The opening section begins with a factual description of the TAAA, and then moves on to locate it in the wider context of Safavid historical writing. The following section examines accounts of human–animal encounters, and shows how animals were seen as supernatural agents that dispensed divine grace on the Safavid shahs, which thus legitimized their rule. The last section looks at accounts of natural disasters, which constructed a cosmology that further legitimized Shah ʿAbbas by constituting him as a universal focal point and, therefore, rendered him immune to natural calamities.
Tārīkh-e ʿĀlam-ārā-ye ʿAbbāsī and Safavid Historical Writing
In order to acknowledge the presence of the natural world in the historical narrative of the Tārīkh-e ʿĀlam-ārā-ye ʿAbbāsī (World Adorning History of ʿAbbas), this section will first introduce the general attributes of the chronicle, and then assess its place in the wider context of Safavid history-writing. The TAAA, which, “more than any other [Safavid chronicle], has shaped the field of Safavid studies and formed the basis for many assumptions about Safavid history,”Footnote 14 was written by a court historian-scribe named Iskandar Beg Munshi. As a chancery scribe (hence the title Munshī), he held the responsibility for writing official letters, documents, and diplomatic communication. The first part of Iskandar Beg’s history was concluded in 1616 (H. 1025),Footnote 15 and narrates the lives of the Prophet, the Shiʿi Imam, as well as the Safavid dynasty up until the 28th year of Shah ʿAbbas’ rule.Footnote 16 In addition, this section also contains eleven kingly virtues of Shah ʿAbbas, such as his piety, justice, good fortune, simplicity of life, his public works, achievements, and so on.Footnote 17 The second part was completed in 1629 (H. 1038), and depicts the remainder of ʿAbbas’ reign year by year. Iskandar Beg integrates into the TAAA different organizational methods—that is, thematically narrating the history before ʿAbbas, and then chronologically narrating ʿAbbas’ reign.Footnote 18 By and large, the chronicler centers on what one might call political history, and elaborates at great length on military conflicts, conquests, administrative appointments, courtly disputes, diplomatic expeditions, and deaths of high-ranking functionaries. References to natural elements, while highlighted here, are relatively marginal.
The chronicle constitutes a part of the wider historical frame of early modern Iran and the Persianate world in general,Footnote 19 which saw the emergence of historical writing as a prolific and diverse field, where several traditions, methods, and narratives interacted. The rise of Shah Ismaʾil as the first Safavi ruler of Iran generated the writing of two histories, Futūhāt-e Shāhī and Ḥabīb al-Sīyar,Footnote 20 which were, to a large extent, a product of an earlier Timurid literary tradition. This tradition was centered in Herat and developed during the fifteenth century under Timurid rulers. Even after the fall of Herat to the Uzbeks and then to the Safavids, its high literary tradition continued to set the tone for historical writing in the Persianate world. In fact, historians like Khvāndamīr and Amir Mahmud, who produced written works for the Safavid shahs, continued to work from Herat even though the Safavid royal court was centered in Tabriz and Qazvin, thus pointing to the unbroken influence of Herat as a center for patronage and historical writing.Footnote 21
Ismaʾil’s heir, Shah Tahmasb, generated a creative field of historical writing by patronizing a myriad of different artistic productions. Among them were the historical works Lubb al-Tavārīkh and Zayl-e Ḥabīb al-Sīyar.Footnote 22 However, it was under Shah ʿAbbas that Safavid historical writing had reached its peak, in terms of the quantity of commissioned works as well as the diverse nature of chroniclers’ identities. Alongside the TAAA, some of the histories that were produced were the Khulāsat al-Tavārīkh and the Naqāvat al-Āsār fi Zikr al-Akhyār.Footnote 23 Prominent scholars of the field argue that ʿAbbas’ rule signifies a shift, albeit partial, from works of universal history to those of dynastic history. As the argument goes, while pre-ʿAbbas chronicles were primarily oriented toward earlier events and dynasties in Islamic history, under Shah ʿAbbas, most chronicles dealt with the dynasty alone—or even exclusively with ʿAbbas.Footnote 24
An elemental assumption of this article is that historical works used scope, methods, and literary tools that aligned with their patron’s principles regarding political and religious legitimacy. In the case of ʿAbbas, several principles were significant. First, his dynasty practiced Twelver Shiʿism, unlike its competing counterparts, who were Sunnis. ʿAbbas also desired to strengthen the authority of the Shiʿi clerical establishment so as to counter the power of the Qizilbash, and convert his constituents, particularly in Sunni Isfahan, to Shiʿism. As a result, chronicles commissioned in Shah ʿAbbas’ court underscored the Safavids’ right to rule via their kinship ties to the Shiʿi Imams. Furthermore, they depicted ʿAbbas as the earthly representative of the twelfth, Hidden Imam.Footnote 25 Therefore, in the TAAA’s preface, whilst describing the Safavid lineage, Iskandar Beg commences with the Prophet Muhammad and the Imams, and then leaps centuries forward to the founder of the Safavid Sufi order. Additional sources of legitimacy that ʿAbbas drew on—which shaped historical writing during his reign—were his status as the head of the Safavi Sufi order (Murshid-e Kāmil), and the Iranian pre-Islamic notion of “the Shadow of God on Earth (Zill al-allah fi al-arz).”Footnote 26 Another source of legitimacy is the association with Timur and his successors. Such connections were strategically important because of Timur’s venerated status as “Lord of Conjunction” (Sāhib Qirān), an auspicious astronomical configuration that denoted the rise of a divine ruler, equal in stature to ʿAli and Alexander the Great.Footnote 27 I argue, however, that these principles of legitimacy, all well-established within the scholarship, sustained a crucial relationship between the Safavid sovereigns and the natural world, which was mediated to intended audiences as a powerful legitimizing force in and of itself.
One must understand these sources of religious–political legitimacy, not just as a means to justify one’s rule—as well as shape one’s historical narrative—but, also, as a way to undermine the legitimacy of rival dynasties. And yet, as none of the Turco-Mongol and Persianate royal courts existed in isolation from one another, a reciprocal influence and connectivity endured between them. It was not rare for Persian-speaking historians to migrate to the Mughal court in search of employment, bringing with them Persianate traditions of historical writing, and, in turn, influencing new historical works back in the Safavid court. Such was the case with Iskandar Beg’s composition of the TAAA, which was influenced by the historian Abu’l-Fazl, who, under the patronage of the Mughal emperor Akbar, produced the Akbarnāmah.Footnote 28
The influence of the Persianate literary tradition upon Ottoman history-writing was equally potent. One may trace its crucial adolescence in the reign of Sultan Bāyezīd II (1447–1512, H. 851–918)—that is, when Persian-speaking writers arrived at the Ottoman court, offering to translate the recently attained glories of the Ottomans into embellished histories.Footnote 29 By the late sixteenth century, the Ottoman polity experienced what Cornell Fleischer has termed “something of an historiographical explosion,” with works such as ʿĀlī’s Künhü'l-Aḫbār serving, on many levels—in terms of its significance for later chronicles—as the TAAA’s counterpart.Footnote 30 Some of these historical narratives, however, were neither optimistic nor flattering. Indeed, an increasing sentiment of moral decline within Ottoman society, military, administration, and court had come to characterize historians’ understanding of their time as well as related natural manifestations. Natural occurrences—earthquakes, plagues, droughts, floods, crop failures, locust epidemics, and others—were historicized through the lens of either a divine retribution for social and regal degeneration, or as harbingers for the apocalypse.Footnote 31 One might say apocalyptic interpretations were not completely out of place, in light of the severe effects of the Little Ice Age on the Ottoman lands. Such effects seem to have been less of an obstacle for Shah ʿAbbas, who, at the same time, successfully consolidated his state.Footnote 32 Although temporally and geographically remote, Mamluk historical writing regarding natural manifestations shared similarities with the historical works of the Persianate world. Late Mamluk chroniclers such as al-Suyūṭī (1445–1505, H. 849–911) had meticulously recorded earthquakes, famines, epidemics, and particularly dry years on the Nile within the conceptual framework of ḥawādith al-gharībah—in other words, extraordinary events and oddities.Footnote 33 As this article will show, such an understanding of nature and its manifestations corresponded with both medieval and early modern occurrences in the Iranian plateau.
By Shah ʿAbbas’ time, Safavid historical writing had undergone significant changes in terms of scope, themes, historical narratives, and circulation. It established itself as a prime medium for royal patrons to propagate their ideology, both within and beyond their realm. The TAAA may be seen as the epitome of this process. However, an intervention within the existing scholarship—foregrounding representations of the natural world—is suggested here for the purpose of a fuller comprehension of Shah ʿAbbas’ claim to sovereignty. In the following section, I will examine interactions between human beings and animals in the TAAA, to reflect on how the animal world was integral to the construction of an imperial Safavid historical narrative.
The Human–Animal World in the Tārīkh-e ʿĀlam-ārā-ye ʿAbbāsī
In this section, I shall ponder the ways in which animals were represented in the TAAA, as well as how these forms of representation facilitated the construction of Safavid religious–political legitimacy. I argue that animals were rarely depicted as mere flesh and blood. But rather, they were seen as supernatural agents that denoted the dispensation of divine grace, which the Safavid dynasty enjoyed. This divine grace rationalized the dynasty’s success and survival, thus far, and legitimized the continuation of its rule over Iran. More importantly, encounters between humans and animals reflect ʿAbbas’ unique sovereignty over nature—that is, as the only human being able to dominate and regulate natural manifestations.Footnote 34 For the sake of clarity, throughout this section I will divide animal references in the TAAA into three themes: (1) animals in the context of royal hunting, (2) animals as tools in inter-imperial rivalry, and (3) animals as public spectacles. That is not to say that these categories are inherently distinct from each other. Indeed, they are fluid and, together, constitute one layer in Iskandar Beg’s attempt to legitimize his royal patron in a way that corresponds with wider trends in the literary Persianate World.
Royal hunting
One who examines the TAAA, even briefly, would surely notice the high frequency with which Shah ʿAbbas commits himself and his retinue to hunting expeditions. In fact, Iskandar Beg mentions no fewer than thirty-five separate occasions of royal hunting during ʿAbbas’ reign. They also appear alongside references of hunting expeditions carried out by ʿAbbas’ predecessors, Shah Ismaʾil and Shah Tahmasb. In the Persianate world, hunting was referred to as a princely activity. It was occasionally a staged show, intended to project the ruler’s sovereignty over both the natural world as well as alien royal houses. Furthermore, hunting practices were employed to articulate the image of the ruler as “the true and only king of the forest,” and, at the same time, portray him as a just, generous, and engaged monarch.Footnote 35 ʿAbbas’ beloved grandfather, Shah Tahmasb, is the protagonist of an early example of this motif within the TAAA. When Tahmasb receives the Mughal emperor Humāyūn (r. 1530–40, 1555–56, H. 937–46, 962–63), Tahmasb invites him to a hunting contest. Although there were several other competitors—such as Humāyūn, Tahmasb’s brothers Bahram Mirza and Sam Mirza, as well as some Chaghatay warriors “who boasted that they were unexcelled in their skill”—it was Shah Tahmasb who proved to be victorious after hunting thirty gazelles.Footnote 36 This story conveys a clear message: among other royal and princely figures, Tahmasb stood superior in terms of combat skills, which reflected his sovereignty in relation to both the Mughal ruler and the potential subversive individuals in his own court.Footnote 37 Recounting this event, Iskandar Beg might be drawing upon earlier Safavid histories, such as Haravi’s Futūhāt-e Shāhī. In the text, one learns that, on a hunting expedition embarked on by the young Shah Ismaʾil (prior to his reign) and his entourage, the would-be sovereign exercised his dominion and, as Ali Anooshahr writes, “the purpose of this act was not simply physical exercise but also to make clear to all the attendants what the social structure of the group was to be.”Footnote 38
Describing events of significance in the years 1594–95 (H. 1003), Iskandar Beg recounts Shah ʿAbbas’ hunting expedition in Gilan province, which resulted in the slaying of “ten or fifteen boar, each the size of an ox.”Footnote 39 Before delving into details about the hunt itself, the chronicler describes the massive operation to collect the animals in the region within the designated hunting area. According to Iskandar Beg, this undertaking involved as many as 10,000 local inhabitants of Gilan, who frightened the animals by either sounding horns or shooting into the air with their rifles. The animals were driven into the designated area, which was then barricaded until the royal hunt concluded. The description of the actual hunt could be mistaken by a reader to be that of a battlefield:
The Shah charged fearlessly to and fro, with a disregard to his personal safety that alarmed more prudent souls … God had inspired in both friend and foe alike such awe of the Shah that no one dared plan any act of treachery against him, and he, placing his trust in God, felt anxiety on the score of the throng around him.Footnote 40
Here, Iskandar Beg maintains a certain vagueness vis-à-vis the differentiation between human and animal. He does not state why ʿAbbas needs to “charge fearlessly” against unsuspecting animals. Such vagueness serves the narrative that ʿAbbas is the brave king of the forest (physical forest as well as metaphorical), and that his fearlessness and devotion to God are enough to crush any attempted opposition from human or animal. The forest (the animal kingdom) is thus an arena where a moral account is constituted—in essence, ʿAbbas’ survival and exceptional performance as a king is owed to his devotion to God, while, as we will see in the following section about natural disasters, individuals who did not display such devotion met a contrasting fate.
There is another dimension to the human–animal world, which is a more practical one. In pre-modern societies, animals were seen not only in ideological or mythical terms, but, at times, they constituted a real and rather mundane concern. Wild animals hampered agricultural societies in various ways—for example, they preyed upon domesticated livestock and sometimes even attacked peasants. Accordingly, pre-modern rulers often attributed to themselves the virtuous task of protecting their community through the hunt or, in other words, the physical subjugation of wild animals.Footnote 41 Sedentary communities both accepted and expected their sovereigns to act as a buffer between them and a wild, unruly nature. To borrow Thomas Allsen’s assertion, “Through the medium of the royal hunt rulers acted out cosmic roles and, at the same time, performed very specific, tangible, and expected services at the local level.”Footnote 42 Thus, we can understand Iskandar Beg’s tales of ʿAbbas’ heroic conquests of natural agents as the enactment of an expected sovereign role (i.e. the protection of the community).
A relevant occurrence narrated in the TAAA takes place on the plain of Rādekān in 1598–99 (H. 1007). As was the custom during Shah ʿAbbas’ hunting expeditions, after a large number of locals channeled the animals into the intended area, the shah would then enter with his retinue. Early on, he hunts several onagers “with his bow and arrow and his sword.”Footnote 43 Indeed, the close manner in which ʿAbbas subjugates the wild beasts yet again attests to his sovereignty over the natural world. In addition, the hunting of the onager plays into earlier metaphors and conventions within Persianate literature. The onager is the favorite prey of Bahrām Gūr (Bahrām V), the protagonist in the epic Haft Paykar. The very appellation of Gūr bears a double meaning of an onager alongside a grave, and, in Nizami’s Haft Paykar, the hunted onager symbolizes access to hidden knowledge as well as one’s true nature.Footnote 44 Shah ʿAbbas’ hunt is narrated by his chronicler along very similar lines.
As the day progresses, more animals are hunted by ʿAbbas whilst other members of the expedition are not yet allowed to participate. Only after ʿAbbas has slain no fewer than 162 animals does he permit other members to partake. This collective participation follows a social order of distinct circles, which gradually widen. First, some of the emirs are allowed to join, who are then followed by the royal retainers and the gholām officers until, last of all, the common soldiers receive their fair share. Indeed, as the text reads, “No one was left without something to his credit.”Footnote 45 This type of hierarchy regarding the distribution of spoils is by no means exceptional, but it does bear meaning within this courtly context. First, it reaffirms both ʿAbbas’ sovereign image as the king of the forest as well as his magnanimity. Second, the order in which different functionaries were allowed to take part in the hunt constructs a world consisting of layers of significance, which sees ʿAbbas standing alone within the innermost circle. Moreover, he is the only human intermediary who regulates the interactions between human beings and the natural agents around them.
It is at this point in the text that a truly wondrous event occurs, as a few thousand of the surviving gazelles halt their attempted flight and head toward ʿAbbas:
Some instinct guided the animals toward the place where the Shah was standing, and, after circling around him several times like pilgrims circumambulating the Kaʿba, they all sought refuge near him and lay down around him, giving the Shah the appearance of a shepherd watching over his flock. When he saw this, the Shah gave orders that the animals should not be disturbed further.Footnote 46
This story yields several layers of meaning. The surviving animals were not drawn toward ʿAbbas by mere instinct, but rather by divine orientation. They acted as the manifestation of a divine message, which associated the Safavid monarch with the sanctity of the Kaʿba, and thus undermined the Ottoman claims of monopoly over the holiest centers of Islam.Footnote 47 Furthermore, the shah is constituted in this account as not just a sacred focal point, but also as the shepherd of his community (reʿaya)—that is, one who is divinely protected, authoritative, and merciful.Footnote 48 Such a discourse is common in Shiʿi traditions, which portray the twelve Imams as the guardians of their community.Footnote 49 As we may recall from the first section, the connection between the Safavid dynasty and the Shiʿi Imams was a poignant source of legitimacy for the dynasty,Footnote 50 and consequently, in reading this passage, we witness a clear correspondence between the representation of animals in the TAAA and other parts of the Safavid historical narrative.
Animals as tools of inter-imperial rivalry
Creatures of admired reputation were often employed in a diplomatic game between the three empires of the Persianate world—in essence, either physically (when they were exchanged between the royal dynasties) or in a symbolic fashion (as part of ideological contestation). In both cases, the animals’ perceived character was used to project the ruler’s powers and sovereignty. Looking into the practice of diplomatic exchange in wild animals, one learns, from Mikhail’s work, of many instances where the Ottoman sultan entertained guests with dancing elephants. Some of the tamed pachyderms had been shipped to the Ottoman court from that of Shah ʿAbbas in 1620 (H. 1029), as well as two large tigers and a rhinoceros. As Mikhail tells it, “these diplomatic gifts from the Ottomans’ rival were thus reused to great effect by the Sultan in Istanbul to awe visitors to his own realm.”Footnote 51
In the TAAA’s account of the years 1608–10 (H. 1017–18), upon hearing of the death of the Mughal emperor Akbar, ʿAbbas orders a diplomatic expedition to be sent to Akbar’s heir—his son Jahāngīr—in order to establish good relations with the new ruler. Alongside many gifts—such as turban jewels and sword belts—the delegation also included “Arabian, Georgian, and Bayāt horses from the royal stables[,]” and “it is doubtful whether any other monarch could boast even one horse of the quality of these.”Footnote 52 Iskandar Beg uses the horses as a sign of not only ʿAbbas’ generosity but, more importantly, of his superiority over other monarchs. This superiority is demonstrated through his possession of rare and admired animals. One further learns that foreign accounts of ʿAbbas’ court testify to his possession of a tamed lion, which he kept around and petted in front of the Mughal ambassador in order to deliver the message of his, ʿAbbas’, courage.Footnote 53
But diplomatic exchanges of gifts were only one aspect of the Safavid foreign policy in relation to the Ottomans and the Mughals, and it was a policy that frequently included territorial and ideological disputes. In the context of these disputes, animals possessed important symbolic and prophetic meaning. One example in the TAAA is found early on during Shah Ismaʾil’s rise to dominance, and depicts his victorious campaign against the crumbling Aqquyunlu confederation, which at the time held sway over the area of Dīyārbakr. When the two armies were preparing for battle near the town of Amida—the Safavid army was greatly outnumbered—actual combat was preceded by packs of dogs from each camp engaging each other. In that skirmish, the dogs from the Safavid camp scared the rival dogs away, which signified an impending victory. Inspired and galvanized by this omen, the Safavid soldiers achieved a decisive victory “by virtue of the unfailing good fortune of the Shah.”Footnote 54 Charging the everyday occurrence of a dogfight with prophetic meaning, Iskandar Beg renders the dogs as divine agents, which is intended to denote the dispensation of God’s grace. One may benefit from pondering this point in relation to the connotations of the dog in the Iranian social and cultural imagination. Alongside the dog’s “immediate” connotation of the base, the dirty, and the mundane, a decidedly more positive representation is often invoked within Persianate literature—that is, the dog alternatively stands for unconditional loyalty. Shah ʿAbbas is referred to in the TAAA as well as other contemporary chronicles—such as Jalāl al-Dīn Yazdī’s Tārīkh-e ‘Abbāsī—as “Dog of the Threshold of ʿAli” (Kalb-e āstān-e ʿAli).Footnote 55 In any case, the divine grace that favors the Safavid warriors is the major cause for the victory in battle, and, in the larger picture, of the successful consolidation of the Safavid state by Ismaʾil during this era. Thus, one again observes the consistent role of animals in the wider Safavid historical narrative.
In the contentious relations between the Safavids and the Ottomans, the image of the lion, in particular, played a substantial role. One Ottoman miniature painting from the sixteenth century is rather telling in this context, for it depicts the founder of the empire, ʿOsmān I (r. 1299–1324, H. 698–724), sitting in his beautiful garden, where he is surrounded by his entourage whilst a lion is prostrated in front of him, licking the sultan’s feet. While an interpretation that conveys only the sultan’s sovereignty over nature is possible, one must keep in mind the historical association between the lion and ancient Iran, as well as the Shiʿi forefather ʿAli. The miniature painting thus propagates the narrative that the Ottoman sultan is superior to Safavid Iran, which accepts its inferiority and subjugation.Footnote 56
The association with the lion has a deep past within Iranian collective consciousness, since before Shiʿi Islam was imposed as religion of state, and even prior to the Islamic conquest of Iran. In the celebrated Shāhnāmah, Ferdowsi foresees the fall of the Arab rule over Iran, for “a caravan dog cannot bring down a roaming lion.”Footnote 57 ʿAli, the first Shiʿi imam and the true heir to the Prophet Muhammad, is also frequently associated with the king of the animal kingdom. Accordingly, Safavid shahs portray ʿAli as “the victorious lion of God” (ʾAsad ʾallāh al-ghālib).Footnote 58
This brings us to yet another occurrence in the TAAA, which took place during the Ottoman siege of the Shiʿi holy city of Najaf in 1625–26 (H. 1035). While the Sunni Ottomans tried to take the city, they encountered a series of miracles that favored the Safavid Shiʿi defenders, and helped them to save the city. One miracle involved a lion that roamed the Ottoman base at night, striking fear into the rank and file, which prevented them from building breastworks for the siege. Eventually, “Morād Pasha [the Ottoman commander] marched away, and the defenders of Najaf were saved by the holy spirit of ʿAli.”Footnote 59 Iskandar Beg uses the lion to reaffirm the association between the Safavid dynasty and ʿAli, as well as to account for ʿAbbas’ exceptional success in building and defending his empire. Those who righteously raised the Shiʿi flag were to be supported by supernatural elements, some of them in the form of animals.
Another example concerns the interaction between Shah Tahmasb and the Mughal emperor Humāyūn. The latter was, at the time, a fugitive from his own kingdom, and the purpose of his visit was to secure Tahmasb’s assistance in order to reclaim his throne. When asking for an audience with Tahmasb, Humāyūn sent an emissary, saying “a number of verses alluding to the story of the miraculous rescue of Salmān by ʿAli from the grip of the lion, and the aptness of this allusion will not be lost upon intelligent persons.”Footnote 60 Such stories that associate ʿAli with the lion—or that illustrate his subjugation of the lion—were quite common. What is of interest here, however, is that the Mughal Sunni emperor explicitly acknowledges the Safavid narrative, which attributes super-human traits to ʿAli and conjoins him with the Safavid dynasty. The purpose of this was to gain Tahmasb’s favor and support. In other words, an animal representation is used here as a political declaration, denoting Humāyūn’s dependent and inferior status in relation to Tahmasb.
Animals as public spectacles
In the early modern Persianate world, animals were also displayed in front of the wider populace. When describing this trend within the Ottoman empire, Mikhail refers to a specific group of animals as “charismatic megafauna,” arguing that lions, tigers, and elephants were displayed by the nobility in public events in order to illustrate imperial power as well as their ability to tame nature. Mikhail notes that “fantastic creatures like elephants were thus symbols of how human political authority could harmoniously harness and reconcile the awesome wonders and random violence of the natural world.”Footnote 61 In this respect, Safavid royal figures were no different from their Ottoman counterparts. Iskandar Beg recounts an event in which ʿAbbas, in honor of the arrival of the Uzbek high officer Valī Mohammad Khan, held a spectacle at the Naqsh-e Jahān square in Isfahan. The denizens of Isfahan—at least those who flocked to the vast square—enjoyed an impressive performance, as “fireworks were lashed to one of the royal elephants, and when these were ignited and cannon were fired, the huge beast performed strange antics and made terrifying charges, to the great amusement of the Khan and other spectators.”Footnote 62 The suffering and confused elephant constituted for the roaring masses—as well as for the Uzbek khan—ʿAbbas’ imperial authority. Thus authority is manifested by subduing the wildest of nature’s creatures, and then putting them on display in a controlled urban environment.
My examination has thus far dealt with interactions between human beings and living, sensuous, natural agents. In what remains of my analysis I will turn to interactions of a different kind—that is, between humans and manifestations of the natural world that are unseen and non-tangible. It is imperative to consider such interactions because they had a significant role in “proving” Safavid sovereignty claims for the people they ruled, who were equally affected by these natural manifestations, yet at times met different ends.
“Strange Happenings and Wondrous Events”: Natural Disasters in the Safavid Historical Narrative
This section will examine accounts of natural disasters in the TAAA and attempt to explain how the chronicler considered such events within the context of the wider Safavid narrative.Footnote 63 The chronicle’s treatment of natural disasters derives from a holistic cosmology, which is influenced by medieval Islamic perceptions such as ʿAjāʾib and Malḥamah, and consists of celestial phenomena, astrological prediction, wondrous events, and divine will. Such cosmology legitimizes ʿAbbas by placing him at the heart of it, and, in assigning him moral righteousness equal to foundational figures, thus enables him to endure natural calamities through God’s grace.Footnote 64 This assertion is in line with my main argument, that encounters with the natural world in the TAAA reflect Shah ʿAbbas’ unique sovereignty and ability to dominate, manipulate, survive, and contain nature. Therefore, these encounters constituted a powerful legitimizing force for his reign. Throughout this section, I shall provide background on pre-modern Islamic perceptions concerning natural disasters—namely, the literature of ʿAjāʾib and Malḥamah—and then use disaster accounts from the chronicle to illustrate my argument. I will divide primary accounts into separate motifs: (a) occurrences indicating several layers of significance in Iskandar Beg’s cosmology, and (b) those which entail the notion of a “moral account.” Again, this division does not imply an inherent difference, as they are integrated within the larger historical narrative of the TAAA.
Iskandar Beg’s description of natural disasters should be considered with regard to wider literary traditions in the Islamic medieval and early modern world. Otherwise known as the Islamic cosmography, the ʿAjāʾib literature explains the order of the entire universe—specifically, planetary motions, supra-terrestrial elements, and worldly phenomena.Footnote 65 This literature covers the entirety of worldly as well as celestial occurrences, and roughly differentiates between the ʿAjab (wonder), which is an unexplainable yet common occurrence (such as the rising of the sun), and the Gharīb (strange), which happens rarely (such as an earthquake).Footnote 66 Both stem from either celestial phenomena or the wondrous acts of human agents, graced with divine powers.
Although a comprehensive understanding of the nature and causes of these events is beyond the ordinary individual, their purpose can be inferred, for a central theme in the ʿAjāʾib literature is a constant process of transformation—that is, a repeating pattern of destruction and revival. Such views and terminology were salient in Iran during the reign of Shah ʿAbbas. In fact, a whole section of the TAAA—titled “Strange Happenings and Wondrous Events during the Reign of Shah Tahmasb”Footnote 67—depicts a series of natural occurrences. Reading the Tārīkh, it becomes apparent that its historian, Iskandar Beg, held beliefs that linked unexplained natural events with celestial phenomena as well as with God’s will.
Another form of literature that influenced early modern historical writing in Iran is the Malḥamah, or, to be specific, the astro-meteorological Malḥamah.Footnote 68 This genre attempted to predict future events via astrological, geophysical, and climatic phenomena. Court astrologers played a key role in this subculture by predicting earthquakes, plagues, or years with little rain, which were all based on a configuration of the stars. Although works propagating such predictions suffered harsh criticism from religious scholars, their popularity and circulation were considerable in the medieval and early modern Islamic world.Footnote 69 After having indicated significant conceptual frameworks that loomed large in historical writings of the Safavids, one must then examine how Iskandar Beg represented such natural occurrences.
Circles of significance in the TAAA’s cosmology
Describing events in 1617–18 (H. 1027), Iskandar Beg mentions the appearance of a number of celestial signs that required the interpretation of Shah ʿAbbas’ astrologers. A light in the sky, shaped like a sword, appeared in the morning hours for several months, as did a fiery comet, which sent out rays of light for as long as six weeks. Both were widely noticed. These signs denoted, as the court astrologers determined, an impending period of war, bloodshed and pestilence. However, as the predictions went, these scourges will mostly take place in lands east, north, and south of Iran, but not in the Safavid realm, which is the center of the civilized world.Footnote 70 Despite the aforementioned predictions, Iran was affected, shortly thereafter, by diseases in the provinces of Gilan and Mazandaran.Footnote 71
An apparent feature in this account—as well as in the ones to follow—is the amount of certainty projected upon the court astrologers’ predictions, in spite of the imprecise nature regarding their prediction in this case. And yet astrology was reaffirmed as a means to at least gain awareness of impending calamities, or, if not, to help confront them. Such is in tandem with the popularity of astrology among other monarchs within the early modern Persianate world. Muṣṭafā ʿĀlī’s Künhü'l-Aḫbār tells of the Ottoman Sultan Murād III’s (r. 1574–95, H. 982–1003) fascination with popular occultism. Moreover, the official Mughal chronicles, the Akbarnāmah and the Bādshāhnāmah, both make use of astrology to cement their patrons’ (Akbar and Shāh Jahān) claims to titles such as Sāhib Qirān and Mojadded.Footnote 72 In Iskandar Beg’s constructed cosmology—as will be shown—celestial phenomena, astrological prediction, and God’s will are all in a dialectical conversation. The aforesaid example teaches us another aspect pertaining to this cosmology—that is, it consists of layers of significance, which may determine either the community’s or the individual’s fate in the wake of a disaster. ʿAbbas’ astrologers acted upon a presumption that Iran was the center of the civilized world, and hence would not suffer as severely as places of lesser significance. The layers go deeper until they reach ʿAbbas, who is the main beneficiary of God’s grace, and, consequently, the most resilient in the face of natural calamities.
Another example that denotes layers of significance is the account of a series of misfortunes that occurred about a year later, which were events that “can only be attributed to the calamitous effects of the comet, which had been predicted by the astrologers.”Footnote 73 The first among these events started with the killing of Ramāz, a Georgian gholām—who was loyal to the shah—by another Georgian called Ḥajna Beg. The latter was summoned for a tribunal at the court, but he and his brothers disobeyed the tribunal’s authority and killed several high officials who were participating in the proceedings. Eventually, order was restored when the rogue noblemen were shot to death. Another disruptive incident was the collapse of parts of the wall of Isfahan, which buried dozens of people under rubble. However, the last disastrous event was a massive earthquake in Khurasan, which razed entire villages and claimed the lives of hundreds, including those attending a wedding reception. As the chronicle states, “Through God’s excellent wisdom, their rejoicing was turned to mourning. By a miracle, the bride herself was unharmed … thus providing an excellent illustration to the Koranic statement: ‘You will something only if God has willed it.’”Footnote 74
Yet again, one witnesses the aforementioned layers of significance. The first event to be recounted is the one closest to the shah—that is, in terms of geographical proximity and the importance of the personnel involved. Later events, although involving a more severe loss of human life, are implied to be less significant due to their distance from the shah. Additionally, the earthquake during the wedding reception informs one that, in spite of the fact that the event “can only be attributed to the calamitous effects of the comet, which had been predicted by the astrologers,” God is the absolute arbiter of who will survive and who will perish. It is in His power to turn peoples’ rejoicing into mourning, yet it is also in His power to save one individual out of dozens, according to His perception of who is deemed worthy of His grace. Additionally, this string of events is noteworthy because the nature of those events, in terms of human or non-human characters, is varied. The Tārīkh starts off with a case of power-driven murder, which is, to all intents and purposes, of a human nature. The collapse of the wall of Isfahan might stem from both human and non-human causes, and the Khurasan earthquake is clearly a non-human event. However, despite their varied nature, they are all incorporated together as calamitous implications of the comet. Thus, within the cosmological order consisting of celestial phenomena, astrological prediction, and divine intervention, natural or human-originated events are not separated. This implies that the way to be vigilant from all of them is through astrological prediction, and the way to be saved is by divine will.
Moral accounts of sins and righteousness
Other accounts of natural disasters provide us with a better sense of the chronicle’s constructed cosmology. Under the headline “Strange Happenings and Wondrous Events during the Reign of Shah Tahmasb,” we learn of a severe earthquake that hit the region of Qāʾen, Khurasan in 1549 (H. 956).Footnote 75 The qāżi (judge) of the province, Mowlānā Bāqī, resided in one of the villages that was heavily affected. Practicing astrology alongside his legal capacity, Bāqī predicted the impending calamity by the movement of the stars. He warned his fellow villagers, but to no avail, so the qāżi evacuated his family and camped in the desert. However, when he acceded to return to the city because of his children suffering from the desert cold, the ground shook and buried them underneath the rubble. Here, one is introduced to a moral ecosphere—that is, a heightened recognition in those who are affected by natural disasters as moral subjects. In most of the accounts that follow, this moral agency saves some and kills others in accordance with their moral performance. In the qāżi’s case, however, we see that his moral agency did not save him, but nevertheless, it contributed to an almost martyr’s death. Several literary elements in the story help to exalt him. For instance, his depiction as a “Cassandra-like” figure, as well as his family’s seclusion in the desert—which is a symbol of purity—serve this purpose.
Several natural occurrences affected Shah ʿAbbas. In his account of the years 1606–8 (H. 1015–16), Iskandar Beg tells of “an astonishing incident” that took place during the holy day Eid-e Azha. While the shah and the ruling elite were attending a royal ceremony, an earthquake occurred, which collapsed the roof over a portion of the attendants. Several high officials lost their lives in what is portrayed in the chronicle as a chaotic scene, which described buried bodies, contorted limbs, and improvised rescue efforts by the locals.Footnote 76 Shah ʿAbbas, however, survived the disaster, although according to the procedures of the ceremony, he should have been under the crushed roof at the time of the quake.
The chronicle provides two reasons for this miracle. First, the shah’s astrologers predicted the disaster and stated that, while it would happen at midday, “the influence of the auspicious stars which were at that moment dominant in the Shah’s horoscope would mitigate the effect of this threat.”Footnote 77 ʿAbbas’ astrologers also took precautions and kept him from public sight for some time, which caused his delay and fortunate survival. The second narrative, regarding the miraculous survival of the shah, is related in a rather personal manner by Iskandar Beg. Apparently, as informed by a calligrapher and a close companion of the shah:
The Shah had told him that, at the time he was due to leave the hall, he had involuntarily gone into a dreamlike trance and was still in this trance when the disaster occurred, and this was why he was late leaving the hall. Truly, if God’s protection is bestowed upon you, what influence can the stars have on your fate?Footnote 78
Alongside the aforementioned cosmological order—which consists of celestial phenomena, astrological prediction, “wondrous events,” and divine intervention—this account adds an additional layer to such cosmology. Shah ʿAbbas was saved due to a forced dream-like trance, which put him out of harm’s way. In this, he joins an exclusive group of righteous historical and mythical figures, who were saved and rose to prominence following such divine dreams. According to earlier Safavid histories, ʿAbbas’ admired grandfather Shah Tahmasb articulated his image as a saintly sovereign and the reasoning for his own survival—in essence, through dreams that granted him access to the Divine. Before Shah Tahmasb, access to the Divine through dreams is attributed to Shaikh Safi, the founder of the Safavi Sufi order, as well as to Prophet Muhammad and to Moses.Footnote 79 Therefore, akin to foundational figures before him, Shah ʿAbbas’ exceptional moral virtue granted him God’s grace, which saved him from “wondrous calamities” and facilitated his glorious rule. It is this ability, which allowed Shah ʿAbbas to predict (through his astrologers), survive, and contain such disastrous natural manifestations, that acted as a powerful legitimizing force for the shah’s reign.
One may look at another example of Shah ʿAbbas’ moral virtue—which proved useful against natural calamities—under the heading “The Shah’s Illness and Subsequent Recovery, by the Grace of God.”Footnote 80 In 1619–20 (H. 1029), a plague was spreading through Safavid society. Needless to say, astrological prediction was once again involved. Whilst heading for Mazandaran in order to attend to matters of state, the shah was afflicted, “partly as a result of the unhealthiness and excessive heat of the climate, and partly as a result of the influence of the stars.”Footnote 81 Although the disease claimed the lives of many within the court and among the common people, the shah recovered. His intention to undertake a pilgrimage to the shrine of Imam Rezā in Mashhad was regrettably canceled, again due to urgent matters of state. The shah’s moral virtue takes the form of religious Shiʿi piety—manifested by his pilgrimage to the shrine of the imam—and persistent devotion to attending to his kingdom. In Kishwar Rizvi’s examination of the 1605 Shāhnāmah edition that was commissioned in ʿAbbas’ court, he maintains that the portraits in the work contain unique traits and motifs that enhance the shah’s legitimacy—for example, his phenomenal piety. According to Rizvi, “the image of piety appropriated by Shah ʿAbbas was disseminated through varied means, from chronicles to endowment deeds, in theological treatises and illustrated manuscripts.”Footnote 82 Performing his aforementioned pious acts, the shah was awarded divine grace—and hence life—whilst others perished in the epidemic.
In the context of the moral account of sins and righteous behavior—in spite of the fact that they are not natural disasters per se—I wish to evoke two additional occurrences from the TAAA. My argument is that such occurrences provide a great deal of insight, for they illustrate the implications of moral transgressions as well as constitute natural elements as nodes of moral and divine judgment. The first occurrence takes place in 1606–8 (H. 1015–16) and involves the Qūrchī Bāshī of Gilan province,Footnote 83 who was exposed as a deceiver and an embezzler, and “was deemed deserving of punishment for his past sins.”Footnote 84 While being kept in custody during the process of his property’s expropriation, he went down to the banks of the Sefīd River, on the pretext of performing ablutions. Hoping to escape by swimming across the river, “he was weighed down by his crimes and drowned. Glory be to God.”Footnote 85 Thus, the White (Sefīd) River constitutes a node of divine presence and, through it, judgment is dispensed according to moral performance.
The second occurrence affected none other than the Ottoman Sultan Aḥmed I (r. 1603–17, H. 1012–26). He died a young man, from illness, in the autumn of 1617. According to the historian, “his life was cut short because he broke his sworn oath, an act expressly forbidden by God and considered reprehensible by men.”Footnote 86 The reason for God’s wrath against the sultan was the latter’s secret plan to break the peace with Iran and invade its territory, a plan that Shah ʿAbbas was well aware of in advance because of his elaborate use of spies placed within the Ottoman court.Footnote 87 Again, one sees a natural element—this time, in the form of a deadly disease, which acted as divine means to impose moral justice. Those who transgress moral principles will be punished by God through natural agents, and those who display righteousness and piety will be protected from both natural and supernatural calamities.
Conclusion
In this article, I have suggested a new reading of the Safavid chronicle Tārīkh-e ʿĀlam-ārā-ye ʿAbbāsī. This suggestive take focused on two particular manifestations of the natural world—namely, animals and natural disasters—and examined how human beings’ encounters with them are represented within the text. I have illustrated that these encounters conveyed that Shah ʿAbbas, as well as the Safavid dynasty in general—blessed with divine grace—are the only human agents able to dominate such natural manifestations, which are inherently inexplicable, unpredictable, and unruly. This domination and sovereignty of Shah ʿAbbas over the natural world thus constitutes, I have argued, a powerful legitimizing force that comes to light when using the environment as a primary unit of analysis.
The article first provided factual context regarding the chronicle whilst also locating it within a wider framework of history-writing in the early modern Persianate world. Emphasized were the importance of religio-political legitimacy in shaping the histories written within this period, and, in particular, the legitimizing force of kinship ties to the Shiʿi imams, the leadership of the Safavi Sufi order, the notion of “Shadow of God on Earth,” and affinities to Timur as a universal sovereign. These legitimizing elements, I argued, are linked to a pivotal human–nature relationship, which is yet to be foregrounded.
Then the study began bridging the aforesaid human–nature relationship gap—by showing how animals were represented in the TAAA as supernatural agents, denoting the dispensation of divine grace toward Shah ʿAbbas and the Safavid dynasty at large. Among the shah’s unique abilities was his application of sovereignty over animals, regulating interactions between human beings and animals, and acting as a shepherd to his flock. His domination over the forest is also to be understood as a dominion over the human forest, which contained both his loyal subjects and rival sovereigns.
The final section demonstrated how occurrences that modern readers might perceive as natural disasters were represented so as to depict Shah ʿAbbas’ central place within the cosmos, and how his flawless moral performance rendered him immune in the face of nature’s inexplicable calamities. In a cosmology that mixed the natural with the supernatural as well as the earthly with the celestial, it is a moral account of sins and righteous deeds that allowed Shah ʿAbbas to predict, survive, and contain natural disasters whilst others perished in accordance with their inferior moral performance.
Alongside my main claims, additional themes are also worth noting. For example, one may ponder the issue of agency pertaining to different actors depicted in the TAAA. As reflected in the depiction of lions, gazelles, earthquakes, rivers, and so on, it appears as if nature per se does not possess agency. Rather, it seems nature and all of its manifestations are merely proxies of God’s super-agency.Footnote 88 After the Divine, Shah ʿAbbas certainly possessed agency, as he shepherded his community, regulated encounters between humans and animals, and gained the ability—via his astrologers—to mitigate the damage of natural disasters. But what is also intriguing, in this respect, is that Iskandar Beg also attributes agency to the individual human being—in his construction of a moral account—where every human subject is either spared or permitted to perish according to their own moral performance. While Shah ʿAbbas survives disastrous earthquakes and epidemics, his competing sovereign, the Ottoman sultan, died prematurely as a result of his moral transgressions against the Safavid dynasty—and against God.
Another theme of interest, although it cannot be fully exhausted here, is the very nature of sovereignty that ʿAbbas exerted over the natural world. Such sovereignty does not exist on its own—that is, it needs to be staged, embodied, and exerted over others. In other words, it needs to be performed. Perhaps most illustrative is the shah’s orchestrated hunting expeditions, which involved masses of animals being corralled into an enclosed area that allowed the shah to exert his domination over the animal realm by hunting large numbers of them before further exerting his dominion—this time over the human realm—by permitting his retinue to join the hunt in a hierarchical order. Of course, this is but one example of ʿAbbas’ nature-related performed sovereignty, which is only a modicum of the myriad of other ways in which he—as well as the Safavid shahs in general—conveyed religio-political legitimacy in the early modern Persianate world.
