The seventh period, beginning near the close of the sixteenth century and continuing until about the end of the eighteenth, shows a marked decline in Persian literature. With Shāh Akbar[[283]] and Shāh Abbas,[[284]] who occupied respectively the thrones of India and of Persia, the brilliancy of Persian literature, and especially of her poetry, entirely disappeared. During this period no poet has arisen above mediocrity, and no historian has appeared who could be compared with his predecessors. The successors of Akbar, it is true, left contributions to the history at their time, and a valuable dictionary of the Persian language was compiled from forty similar works, but in lieu of poetry and history, letter-writing began to flourish in both India and Persia. Elegant calligraphy was now carried to an extreme, and a vast amount of time and labor were expended upon private as well as official letters. The state secretaries vied with each other in the production of elaborate credentials for their ambassadors, and generally men of education who were well read in the best Persian poets, and able to recite their best passages, when occasion permitted, were selected for ambassadors.
From the time of Nadīr Shāh up to the present, Persia has suffered many revolutions, wars and famines, and although they could not destroy the admiration still bestowed upon their great poets, the genius of the race appears to have become extinct. The poetry of the eighteenth century is of little value, and the dominant spirit of the nineteenth is pure mysticism, as embodied in the doctrines of the Sufis.
Nations, as well as individuals, have their periods of mental growth and decay, and when once fallen they seldom rise again. History, however, has some splendid exceptions to this rule, and Persia has had three successive periods of intellectual prosperity,—three times has the national spirit awakened as from a torpor, and for a season it has gleamed like a star in the Orient, but three times it has either died out, or been crushed beneath the storm of conquest.
Elated with their success under the brilliant leadership of Cyrus, a change which was almost fatal took place in Persian character, between his reign and that of Darius. Thus his own people proved the truth of the warning words of Cyrus, to the effect that “the effeminate clime produces effeminate inhabitants, nor can the same soil produce excellent fruits and men who are valiant in war.”[[285]] Under the Sassanian kings, however, the national spirit revived, and the literature of Persia sprang to life, only to be trampled beneath the foot of the Arabian invader. Toward the close of the ninth century her world of letters again revived and flourished in various forms during the six periods which have been previously discussed.
Henceforth she has a national literature, with its own peculiar faults as well as beauties, even though her best works belong to her past. No poetry has ever been more peculiarly national than that of Persia, for three centuries her lyre has been virtually silent, and yet her people cherish with peculiar fondness the memory of her poets. The finest odes of Hāfiz and the most beautiful passages of her Shāh Nāmah still live, even in the memory of her peasants; and the sorrows of Lailī and Majnūn will be chanted by Persian and Arab as long as the sons of the desert are found amidst the roses of Īrān.
CHAPTER XVII.
MEHER AND MŪSHTERI.
PERSIAN ROMANCE—THE TWO COMRADES—THE SEPARATION—THE QUEEN—THE DEPARTURE—THE ANNOUNCEMENT.
Persian romance, as well as Persian poetry, is burdened with florid description, and the redundancy of style which is everywhere found in the works of even their best authors makes them tedious to the reader. In these books of Oriental romance, it often happens that a new story is begun before the first is finished, being introduced as a narrative by one of the characters, and the second is in turn interrupted by a third, when the author apparently forgets to finish any one of his fables except the last. Whole volumes are constructed in this way, legends being repeated as often by a bird or an animal as by men and women. Story-telling was esteemed a great accomplishment in the East, and those who excelled in the art were favorites at court as well as in other grades of society. It sometimes happened that a victim who had been selected for capital punishment, either deservedly or otherwise, could save his life if he could find an opportunity of telling a pleasing tale to some official, who would bear the news of his ability to the king. Royalty considered this an easy method of entertainment, and the members of the harem as well as the princes of the courts were often favored in this way. It sometimes happened that a favorite of the king owed her position in the affection of his majesty to the fact that she could entertain him for hours together with pleasing myths of her own composition.
In the life of Bāhram Gor, the poet prince, his seven wives are represented as competing with each other for the royal favor by weaving various romances for his amusement. But amidst all the literary rubbish which is thus formulated for the public eye, there is an occasional gem which is well worthy of preservation. One of these is an affecting story of fraternal love which was written by Assar, an author of much ability, although the Persian chronicles have preserved but little concerning his life. The story of Meher and Mūshteri is considered the masterpiece of Persian romance, and as it is deservedly a favorite with the literati of the East, we give a brief outline of the story, which in the original fills a superb manuscript of four hundred and thirty-four pages. It is transcribed in beautiful Nastaalik characters, within lines of red, blue, and gold, on paper which is richly powdered with gold. The double title page is also richly ornamented, and the heads of the chapters are illuminated in four colors, while the text is illustrated with miniature paintings.[[286]] The plot, the characters and the incidents are of Persian origin; the author has chosen, however, to tell the story in simpler form and briefer phrase than any Persian writer would present it.