To immerse oneself in the plots of the central episodes of the taÊ¿ziyehâs Muḥarram cycle, and, moreover, to witness how they changed through time, is to understand much about the dynamics of this vibrant tradition and its contributors. The physical environment of the tekiyeh, the experience of the performers and audience, and the close pact between them, have all left an impression on the scripts. The genreâs compositional features, the innovations in dramatic content and poetic form, all have their story to tell. They tell of a tradition heavily influenced at its inception by Iranian storytelling. They tell of the exchange of dramatic material between performers from different regions, crossing in urban centres after the creation of a professional circuit. They tell of the toil of those players to bring fresh life to an old story, but of the imperative to remain true to its boundaries. They tell of those listening, of those composing and playing the likeness of the martyrs, of women, of dervishes, and of European visitors. To gain an overview, it is helpful to divide the conclusions into those concerning the traditionâs inception, and then its development.
The trajectory of taÊ¿ziyeh-khÄnÄ« shows a tradition periodically embraced by the ruling classes, but originating from, and sustained by, the devotion of the masses. Sponsorship of ShiÊ¿i rituals under the Safavid dynasty greatly facilitated the emergence of this form of devotional drama. However, KÄshefÄ«âs Futuvvat-nÄmeh-ye sulá¹ÄnÄ« shows that, even prior to this, other types of performance were given to inspire remembrance of the ahl-e bait, and that they were considered valuable acts of piety. Thus, the ground was ripe. I have shown that the earliest scripted taÊ¿ziyeh plays in the form of HaftÄd-u-du tan (which portrays all of the most prominent Karbala martyrdoms consecutively) are likely to have emerged from re-enactments of the battle of Karbala staged amongst the common people, largely outside urban centres. The performance witnessed in Isfahan in 1051/1641 by M. de Montheron suggests that this custom existed by the 11th/17th century at the latest. Carsten Niebuhrâs spectator account from Kharq Island in 1179/1765 provides an example of the form assumed by these performances as they gradually became more sophisticated.
While such performances were ongoing, the individual Karbala martyrdoms and events (such as the pillage of the camp) had begun to be treated in episodic form, as evidenced by the rendition of GhÄrat-e khaimeh-hÄ dated 1136/1724. âFanÄʾīâ, this playâs composer, was âlateâ by the time this copy of the script was made,1 telling us that he was a Safavid era composer. Thus, the very first generation of episodes, early efforts at dramatizing the individual martyrdoms, will date to this period. Two oratory traditions will have influenced the performance of the Karbala narrative being divided into episodes. The rawżeh-khÄnÄ« recitals, prevalent during the Safavid period, already divided the tribulations of the Karbala martyrs into a series of orations, told over the first ten days of Muḥarram; the naqqÄlÄn, professional storytellers, had long told the stories of the Iranian epics in daily instalments.
The scripts of the Zand collection show that the genre had already undergone considerable evolution by that time, and that its key compositional features were already in place. The composers of these scripts made adept use of poetic metre, and already embellished the Karbala narrative as transmitted in historical sources. The inclusion of the gÅ«sheh featuring MÅ«sÄ and the desert dwelling dervish in the rendition of The Martyrdom of Imam Ḥusain dating to this period is a prominent example. Also, the use of what I have identified as the âmartyrdom composition-schemeâ is already evident in the episodes of this collection, and we have the inclusion of type-scenes. Therefore, these aspects of how the Karbala narrative would be dramatized in the taÊ¿ziyeh had already taken shape. Despite this evolution, the earliest witness account of taÊ¿ziyeh in episodic form as part of what appears to be an official programme of Muḥarram commemorations is Francklinâs 1202/1787 account from the Zand dynastyâs capital of Shiraz.2 That âFanÄʾīâ was active before the 1720s implies that the composing of scripted episodes had begun long before Francklinâs account. Interesting questions remain open about the interim period. Where were the performances of the early to mid-18th century taking place? Who were these early script writers? Was their work simply a devotional act, or were they remunerated for their efforts? Comprehensively addressing these questions requires further research. But I can offer a small piece of the puzzle.
TaÊ¿ziyeh performances may have received patronage during the Safavid period but no evidence of this has come to light as of yet. During NÄder ShÄhâs reign it is doubtful that they received official support. Although the early scripts reveal the work of skilled poets, it is unlikely that there was a living to be made as a taÊ¿ziyeh composer or performer at this stage. Many of those involved in this emergent genre are likely to have honed their skills, even been professionals, in other oratory art forms â in particular the storytelling traditions of naqqÄlÄ« and pardeh-dÄrÄ«. The compositional features of the plays, the characterisation of ShiÊ¿ismâs martyrs as heroes of epic, the shared narrative material, and connection between the taÊ¿ziyeh performers and Ê¿Ajam dervish order â major participants in the pardeh-dÄrÄ« tradition â all support this thesis.
Borrowing the concepts of the type-scene and the composition-scheme has illuminated greatly the way in which the main episodes of the taÊ¿ziyeh repertoire are structured. Of course, this is not how taÊ¿ziyeh composers and performers describe their own work: their terms, including vÄqeÊ¿eh, pÄ«sh-e vÄqeÊ¿eh, faqareh and gÅ«sheh are useful in discussing these works and their sections but, unlike the composition-scheme and the type-scene, they do not cover the repeating patterns that we see in the structure of the episodes, and the recurrence of certain shorter scenarios, that becomes evident when we zoom out and look at the features of the repertoire more globally. These compositional phenomena are typical of oral art forms, providing ready-made templates for the improvisations of the bards. Although taÊ¿ziyeh is a scripted tradition, transmitted largely through the copying, redacting and interpolating of written material, the presence of these structures speaks for its close relationship to storytelling. Furthermore, while the taÊ¿ziyeh composers did follow the Karbala narrative as transmitted in historical sources, they did not include the plethora of individuals named there. Instead, they feature characters who, like the icons on the storytellerâs painted canvas, are representatives of their kind: symbols of innocence, heroism or malevolence.
The same storytellers who narrated the epics (the naqqÄlÄn) had moved into the telling of religious stories (pardeh-dÄrÄ«) before the advent of the taÊ¿ziyeh: predominant amongst these proselytising storytellers were the predecessors of the Ê¿Ajam dervish order. The taÊ¿ziyeh composer âNÄá¹eqâ, active in the Zand period and whose work I have discussed, gives us a potential example of the link between practitioners of pardeh-dÄrÄ« and taÊ¿ziyeh-khÄnÄ« at this relatively early stage in the taÊ¿ziyeh traditionâs trajectory. NÄá¹eq is said to have been a sukhanvarÄ« participant.3 As discussed in chapter 1, sukhanvarÄ« involved the staging of ritualized contests in verse, and was a tradition practiced by Selseleh-ye Ê¿Ajam.4 That NÄá¹eq was a sukhanvar not only tells us that this is probably the arena in which he sharpened his poetic skill, but also connects him to the Ê¿Ajam dervishes and religious storytelling, pardeh-dÄrÄ«. The network of a group such as the Ê¿Ajam, or their predecessors, would have helped to sustain the taÊ¿ziyeh as an art form during its early phases, facilitating the staging of performances before they became firmly part of the Muḥarram programme, enjoying widespread popular support, and later elite patronage.
We also find evidence of a connection between the taÊ¿ziyeh tradition and the Ê¿Ajam persisting over the next century. We have seen that taÊ¿ziyeh-khÄnÄn are recorded amongst the members of Selseleh-ye Ê¿Ajamâs futuvvat circle during the Qajar period. In addition, the founding myth of the KhÄksÄr (with whom the Ê¿Ajam were affiliated if not synonymous), the story of the Dervish of Kabul, was integrated into the taÊ¿ziyehâs climactic episode.
Earlier scholarship has made much of the connection between taÊ¿ziyeh and rawżeh-khÄnÄ«, recitals (largely by mullahs) of the tribulations of the ShiÊ¿i martyrs, as told in KÄshefÄ«âs Rawżat al-shuhadÄʾ and similar works. Indeed, the origins of taÊ¿ziyeh are often given as intrinsically linked to these recitals. Their importance is undeniable, and we have seen their impact on both the taÊ¿ziyeh repertoireâs form and content. But considering this new angle â the influence of dervishes, who survived through their storytelling throughout the year, were often itinerant, and were members of brotherhoods that had their own practices involving the composition of verse â both illuminates and challenges our conception of the taÊ¿ziyeh tradition. It takes it further from Karbala as recorded in literary sources, and closer to the memory of the martyrs that lived through its performance in marketplaces and coffeehouses, and not only during Muḥarram. Moreover, in pardeh-dÄrÄ«, as in other forms of religious recitation accompanied by imagery, the âhuman relation to the divineâ is mediated by âa triangulation of speaker, listener, and imageâ.5 When the events at Karbala were performed in the taÊ¿ziyeh speaker and image became one, a material shift in the life of these narratives that can well be understood to give a more profound experience of contact with the sacred.
An experience of proximity to the sacred is likely to have been a major draw for the large and dedicated audiences that are attested in the multitude of sources pertaining to the Qajar dynastyâs reign. The chapters above have tracked the developments in the content of the plays during this period, famed as a time of great flourishing for the taÊ¿ziyeh. Both the process through which these developments took place, and the nature of the innovations, are testament to the life of the tradition and its participants. More than half a century of consistent patronage, from towards the end of Fatḥ-Ê¿AlÄ« ShÄhâs reign (the early 1830s) to the death of NÄá¹£er al-DÄ«n ShÄh (d. 1313/1896), provided favourable conditions under which the genre could develop. From the 1840s, a number of factors began to cause a rapid evolution in the content of the plays. The trend in elite patronage and wave of tekiyeh construction in the cities saw the genre housed and the establishment of a professional circuit for performers. In the enclosed environment of the tekiyeh, the performances became more stylised. What had once been pitched battles between riders in open spaces became equestrian choreographies confined to the sandy track surrounding the sakÅ«. Moreover, the relationship that the taÊ¿ziyeh performers had with their audience intensified. They played to a seated crowd whose affective responses would have been very much apparent to them.
Year after year the same episodes were played to the same audiences and the composers were challenged to find new ways to retell the Karbala narrative, not only familiar to their public but of great religious importance to them. The strong understanding between actors and audience is evidenced by the fact that we see some innovations in narrative content accepted and becoming lasting features, while others are dropped. We know that the audience were well acquainted not only with the individual episodes but with the Muḥarram cycle as a whole. We see certain ideas being built up across a number of episodes, showing that their dramatic content evolved within the context of the wider cycle. The portrayal of Ê¿AlÄ« Akbar with QÄsem as his shadow is an example of this: it is introduced in earlier episodes and culminates with QÄsem having the wedding that should have been Akbarâs. The fact that Akbar was to be married, whilst mentioned in The Martyrdom of QÄsem, had been established in previous episodes. The dramatists could rely on the audience knowing this.
The intensified demand for performances during the Qajar period not only gave the players the opportunity to hone their craft but led to creative exchange between performers from different regions, as they travelled to the new urban venues for work during the mourning season. In addition to this, from the 1830s the spread of lithography meant that the stories belonging to the rawżeh-khÄnÄ«/maqtal genre became part of material culture to an extent that they had not been before. These books as sources for taÊ¿ziyeh dramatists again led to the diffusion of narrative detail and contributed to its standardisation.
The diffusion of new dramatic content within the main episodes shows that the performers were inspired by each otherâs work. Innovations such as the poignant scene contrasting Umm LailÄ and QÄsemâs mother, the addition of the Dervish of Kabul and Sultan Qais to the climactic episode, and of the foreign doctor to BÄzÄr-e ShÄm (all of which took place between the 1840s and the 1870s) soon became standard to renditions of these episodes from across Iran. Most of the substantial narrative innovations appear to have taken place by the 1870s, with the content of the main episodes generally settling by the end of the reign of NÄá¹£er al-DÄ«n ShÄh QÄjÄr. However, while it is common for the versions of these scenes amongst my sample of plays to share short sections of verse, the characterâs lines are by no means repeated verbatim. This suggests that such scenes were widely adopted not simply as the result of the swapping or selling of scripts, which no doubt took place, but as the result of the scenes being witnessed in performance.
Indeed, by the end of the stable period of patronage the main episodes had acquired a layer particular to how the Karbala narrative was imagined through the lens of Qajar Iran. We see in the taÊ¿ziyeh repertoire both the preservation and growth of narratives. A prime example is the ĪlchÄ« FarangÄ«, simultaneously the story of a Byzantine ambassador at YazÄ«dâs court, and a military man bringing gadgets and firepower, a reflection of the European visitors to Iran during the Qajar period. But while we see much innovation, it is noteworthy that the dramatizations did continue to adhere broadly to the Karbala reports transmitted in historical sources. The inclusion of characters or narrative material originating from outside such sources, in particular that which is not traceable to the maqtal tradition, predominantly KÄshefÄ«âs Rawżat, indicates issues of importance to the players and their audience. Otherwise, why would these elements be there?
In fact, it catches the eye that when new characters were added to the main episodes, they tended to be women, foreigners or other outsiders. This is explained partly by practical concerns. Whilst historical sources attest the womenfolk being present in the camp at Karbala and being taken captive, discussion of them is scant. In KÄshefÄ«âs work we see a little more treatment of their perspective, such as the farewells between QÄsem, his bride and mother. But there is nothing of great depth; there was certainly space for the taÊ¿ziyeh composers to further imagine the female experience.
To introduce foreigners, or to integrate stories about them from parallel traditions (such as Ḥusainâs rescue of Sultan Qais, told by the pardeh-dÄrÄn and printed in JawharÄ«âs ṬūfÄn), would embellish but not contradict the core narrative. Practicalities aside, the incorporation of new characters who were foreigners or other outsiders could fulfil certain important functions. It was a means to affirm the religious legitimacy of Ḥusain and his family, by demonstrating the diverse nature of those who bore witness to their mantle. Sometimes these characters were representatives of living groups loyal to the ShiÊ¿i cause, their inclusion in the Karbala narrative connecting them to a crucial moment in sacred history and affirming their place within the community, an assertion of pan-ShiÊ¿ism even.
Whilst historicity does not seem to have been a great constraint for the dramatists when innovating new content, they were constrained by the conventions of their genre. Although their well-versed audience may have relished certain embellishments, these could not deviate too much from the known, or they risked being rejected. The structure of the type-scene was useful in this respect, allowing the insertion of new characters and short stories but moulded into a form that would feel familiar to the audience.
Together with the developments in dramatic content, some sophistication in the verse of the scripts is evident during the Qajar period. A growing concern with keeping up the forward momentum of the action seems evident â the charactersâ interjections becoming more succinct and stichomythic dialogues more frequent. The efforts of distinguished professionals, such as MÄ«r-e Ê¿AzÄ-ye KÄshÄnÄ«, saw the composition of scripts with a higher quality of verse. Due to borrowing and copying being part of the genreâs inherent character, some of this diffused into later renditions. Yet, while the composers benefitting from royal patronage contributed to the genre, it must be recognised that they wrote within the conventions that had been established through many decades, two centuries even, of the work of their often anonymous predecessors. They also borrowed from them in their versification of the episodes. Thus, no matter the takhalluá¹£ they bear, by as late in the genreâs development as NÄá¹£er al-DÄ«n ShÄhâs reign, the main episodes should be seen as the work of many hands.
Women should be counted among the owners of those hands, and to no small extant. Indeed, it is fitting to give the last word of this book to them. They flocked to the taÊ¿ziyeh performances of the Qajar period in vast numbers, numbers that significantly exceeded those of their male counterparts. Due to their seating position in the tekiyeh, the women of the less affluent classes constituted the vast majority of the audience to whom the taÊ¿ziyeh-khÄnÄn most directly performed. Sitting on the floor around the sakÅ« (raised platform), they were the front row. Numerous witness accounts attest their highly active and vocal participation. Developments in content that concentrate on the experience of women other than those of the Prophetâs bloodline (namely Zainab and FÄá¹emeh-ye ZahrÄ) reflect the composers responding to this important sector of the audience. Innovations such as the foregrounding of the plight of the mother of the martyr in The Martyrdom of QÄsem, and the addition of the scene highlighting the special status of the elderly kanÄ«z Feżżeh in the climactic episode, are examples of this trend. Thus, the religious narrative, embodied by the performers (and audience) as it lived within the configuration of the tekiyeh was not static, it grew to encompass those who participated in its retelling.
We have seen that women were also active as taÊ¿ziyeh players in female-only environments during the Qajar period. Among such performers were female rawżeh-khÄnÄn, storytellers and other entertainers; they played both male and female characters, apparently taught their parts by eunuchs who had first been coached by MuÊ¿Ä«n al-BukÄʾ (the royal taÊ¿ziyeh director).6 It is likely that in the renditions of the main episodes destined for an exclusively female audience, the female roles were expanded. This may have been done by the male composers, or more likely by the female players themselves since these women were experienced, sometimes even professional, performers. The new material that was developed in this context had the potential to feed back into the mainstream renditions of the episodes that played to a mixed audience. Whilst this remains speculative, the existence of a womenâs performance tradition, hosted by wealthy female patrons, must have created a market for the composition of plays that focussed more on matters of concern to women.
We heard from MÅ«nes al-Dawlah, maid servant to NÄá¹£er al-DÄ«nâs favourite wife AnÄ«s al-Dawlah, that the performances hosted by such patrons included a number of plays about weddings. A prominent example of this trend is Ê¿ArÅ«sÄ« raftan-e Ḥażrat-e FÄá¹emeh (FÄá¹emeh Goes to a Wedding), discussed in chapter 1. MÅ«nes al-Dawlahâs account of this play in performance shows the humour of the female taÊ¿ziyeh-khÄnÄn as they experiment with the absurd in their ridicule of the enemies of the ahl-e bait.7 The majority of its characters are women, the Prophet Muḥammad and Jebraʾīl being the only other figures to feature consistently.8 In performance to a mixed audience the female characters would have been played by men wearing face veils. Convention also usually dictates that the faces of performers playing angels are veiled. Thus for Ê¿ArÅ«sÄ« raftan-e Ḥażrat-e FÄá¹emeh to be performed by men for a mixed crowd would mean the vast majority of the action taking place between performers whose faces were veiled â presenting a considerable challenge when engaging an audience! Indeed, it is likely that this episode and others similar to it were originally composed for, even by, the female players.
I have commented above that despite the climactic and most widely performed taÊ¿ziyeh episode showing the womenfolk at Karbala potent and vigorous as they ready Ḥusainâs horse for battle, it in no way transgresses the norms and hierarchies governing the social order in which the female audience lived. Yet, in the lesser known Ê¿ArÅ«sÄ« raftan-e Ḥażrat-e FÄá¹emeh, staged for women in private spaces, we catch a glimpse of female performers who in their devotion play the likeness of none other than the Seal of the Prophets and most important of angels, whilst simultaneously pushing the boundaries of the taÊ¿ziyeh as a form in their lampoon of the heroineâs adversaries. Much remains to be investigated about the treatment of the feminine in taÊ¿ziyeh plays and the contribution of women to the tradition. In this book I have focussed my analysis on four of the Muḥarram cycleâs main episodes. The wider repertoire includes many little-known plays foregrounding female characters and their experiences. We have a lot to learn from them.
Fatḥ-Ê¿AlÄ« BaigÄ« and DaryÄÄ«, Daftar 13, 13â14.
Francklin, Observations, 100â01.
DaryÄÄ«, Daftar 14, 9.
MÄ«r-Ê¿ÄbedÄ«nÄ« and AfsharÄ«, ÄyÄ«n-e qalandarÄ«, 335; Floor, Theater, 117â18.
David Morgan, The Embodied Eye: Religious Visual Culture and the Social Life of Feeling (Berkley: University of California Press, 2012) 183.
MÅ«nes al-Dawlah, KhÄterÄt, 98.
Ibid., 99, 104.
There are a number of versions of this episode amongst the Cerulli Collection. For details see Rossi, Bombaci, and Cerulli, Elenco, 351.