INTRODUCTION
In the eleventh-century Persian epic poem the Shāhnāmah, in the story of “Kasrā Nūshīnravān” that is found in the second half of the epic, the so-called “historical” portion, Firdawsī describes a scene in which a group of nobles from various cities and regions in Transoxiana (az āmūī tā shahr-i chāch u khutan) assemble and together they recall the periods of good and ill fortune in their homeland's history.Footnote 1 Afrāsiyāb's reign, they say, resulted in “dark and bitter days” while Kai Khusraw ruled over a peaceful world free from strife.Footnote 2 Their reminiscences finally reach their own time and they give thanks that their ruler, the Sāsānian emperor Kasrā Anūshīravān (r. 531–579 CE), has established justice (dād) in his realm and therefore made his people rich and prosperous. Firdawsī goes on to say, in a noteworthy passage, that representatives from the different regions of the Sāsānian kingdom gathered before the shah and with “one heart and one tongue” pledged allegiance to the ruler and presented him with gifts (hadiyah).Footnote 3
As this story in the Shāhnāmah suggests, the giving of gifts, tributes, and honors has a long history as a vital component of administration in Iran and the Persianate worldFootnote 4 beyond, and was seen as a direct reflection of a sovereign's just, and by extension legitimate rule.Footnote 5 After long being a neglected topic, gift giving in the Iranian context has become the subject of a growing body of historical scholarship, which can be divided into two broad categories. One is the literature that takes a macro-historical approach to describe the role of gifts in Persian culture over the course of hundreds, if not thousands of years. These studies have been useful in presenting the “big picture” and often emphasize the underlying continuities in gift-giving practices through different eras.Footnote 6 The other category is those works that focus primarily on the objects that were exchanged, either from a material cultural and art historical perspective or from a broader sensitivity to the “value of things.”Footnote 7 These studies build upon the seminal work of anthropologists and sociologists, who demonstrated that the exchange of gifts in premodern societies was primarily defined by moral considerations of reciprocity—presents were “given and reciprocated obligatorily”—and that the given objects were not neutral, as in the case of commodity exchange, but bore the identity of the giver and recipient.Footnote 8 In spite of this growing literature, however, many areas remain underexplored. Chief among them is the role of gifts in the political culture, administration, and state-building projects of Iranian history. Part of the explanation for the dearth of scholarship on the political economy of gifts may lie in their ubiquity: gifts are mentioned so often that it is easy to gloss over them.Footnote 9 Like food, animals, disease, and other aspects of life that appear frequently in historical sources, it can be difficult to determine what, if any, political and economic significance they had.Footnote 10
Gifts, tributes, and honors were the backbone of the Qajar state and society. Their abundance in the Qajar period has led some observers to share the view of George Curzon, the British statesman of the imperial era, that gift exchange constituted “the cardinal and differentiating feature of Iranian administration” and that there was something exceptional about Iranian and Qajar gift-giving practices.Footnote 11 In fact, evidence suggests that gift-giving practices were shared across premodern Eurasia and that tribute systems, of which those practices were a part, were a “uniformity” and a “widely shared element of culture.”Footnote 12 Early Qajar rulers relied not only on an established administrative class to serve in their bureaucratic ranks, but also drew on pre-existing practices like gift giving that they inherited from the Safavid and post-Safavid eras and which served as a means of reconstituting a government that could rule over a vast territory—two and a half times the size of modern France and 100,000 square miles larger than contemporary Iran.Footnote 13 In that sense, gift exchange was a vital component of Qajar administration and political life, but one that it shared with other tributary empires and which should not be reified to the level of cultural difference.Footnote 14
Nevertheless, this essay takes a different tack than the scholarship outlined above. I focus on a relatively short period of time—the first few decades of the Qajar period (1785–1925)—but more importantly examine the practices associated with gift giving in early nineteenth-century Iran as a window onto the political culture of the early Qajar state and as a lens through which to analyze statecraft and means of governance during the early Qajar period. I will, in other words, focus on the political strategies behind the exchange of gifts. There are countless references to gifts in the diplomatic correspondence, letters, royal decrees (farmān), chronicles, and other sources from the early Qajar period that provide ample evidence that gift exchange constituted a significant part in administering the Qajar state. Sometimes the gifts are mentioned in passing, as when chroniclers write of “gifts and presents” (tuḥaf va pīshkish) sent to the royal court.Footnote 15 In other instances, the actual objects given are specified, like in the case of a gold-sheathed sword sent to a tribal khan as part of an effort to win his loyalty.Footnote 16
Gifts fulfilled various objectives in Qajar Iran: they were a form of tribute (pīshkish),Footnote 17 a means of displaying generosity and redistributing wealth in society, a method of political patronage, and a way to ease social, political, and diplomatic relations.Footnote 18 They were, in short, part of the effort to legitimize Qajar authority. But they also highlight the real limitations Qajar rulers faced in exerting power in the peripheries of their vast territory and in their relations with diplomats and foreign envoys. Unlike the Safavids, whose claim to rule was grounded in notions of sacred kingship, the Qajars drew on a diverse set of traditions to present themselves as legitimate rulers and establish their political authority.Footnote 19 Gift giving was central to this effort. Moreover, although there was much continuity in gift-giving practices and customs between the Qajar state and earlier polities—the pīshkish ceremonies being the most conspicuous—Qajar gift giving was shaped by the historical circumstances of the late eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries. Gifts comprised by some estimates nearly half of the economic revenue of the early Qajar state, a figure that may seem high but which is understandable in the context of an economy recuperating after nearly seventy years of war and political instability.Footnote 20 Gifts were not only crucial to the self-image of Qajar rulers, indeed they were essential to the state's survival. At the same time, with the ascendancy of European imperial powers at the turn of the nineteenth century, gifts of precious objects and animals to European dignitaries and visitors came to surpass in importance the megafauna and illustrated manuscripts exchanged between the Safavids, Ottomans, and Mughals in earlier times.Footnote 21
At the same time, however, the story of Qajar gifts is not simply a story of political elites. The exchange of gifts to and from the Qajar state reflected a culture of exchange that existed within broader nineteenth-century Iranian society, and enmeshed the elite in social and economic relations that helped sustain their rule.Footnote 22 The depictions of Qajar rulers as “autocratic” and “arbitrary,” which often features in the historiography of Iran, obscures the fact that political practices like gift giving were an extension of the cultural norms of giving that existed in broader society.Footnote 23 What distinguished the political gifts were the rituals associated with them, and the potential for violence if obligations were not met.Footnote 24 Gift exchange in Qajar Iran reminds us that, as Karl Polanyi and others have pointed out, premodern political and economic systems, were “as a rule, embedded in social relations.”Footnote 25
THE SPIRIT OF THE QAJAR GIFT
The contours of a broad culture and ethics of giving and generosity in nineteenth-century Iran can be gleaned from the Persian language's rich terminology related to gifts. Some words in Persian, like armaghān and sawghāt, are used only in the context of “souvenir” or “memento,” usually brought over from a journey, while others, like in‘ām, ‘ināyat, and pīshkish imply a difference in the status and rank between the giver and the recipient of the gift. Europeans who journeyed to Iran remarked upon the variety of words available in Persian to describe gifts. After traveling there between 1887 and 1888, Edward G. Browne wrote in his well-known A Year amongst the Persians that he heard eight different words used among ordinary Iranians to refer to gifts. Armaghān, rah-āvard, and sawghāt referred to objects brought back after a journey; yādigār was a keepsake meant to remind the owner of an absent friend; and hadiyah was a general term for gift. For the three other words—ta‘āruf, pīshkish, and in‘ām—Browne provided an extended explanation of each and remarked on their rituals and expectations. Ta‘āruf was used when someone of about the same social rank offered a present to Browne, and no return, at least in the form of money, was expected. Pīshkish was the term used when a person of lower rank gave a present to Browne, usually in the form of “flowers, fruits, or fowls,” and the object's proper value in money was expected in return.Footnote 26 Finally, in‘ām, or gratuity, was the term Browne heard used when an offering was made by a superior to an inferior, and was “almost always in the form of money.”Footnote 27 The latter often took the form of gratuities given to villagers who hosted travelers, caravanserai owners, the shāgird-chāpārs who served as accompaniment along each stage of a voyage and were responsible to return horses, servants in the house, and, in general, “anyone of humble rank who offers service.”Footnote 28 Browne noted that the proper amount to be given was difficult to determine, and the most expensive in‘ām were always those to the governor's farrāshes—the men sent bearing a present from their master.Footnote 29
Browne's categorization applied to the terms as used in relation to him, and therefore differed slightly from their political and administrative connotations. The farmāns, chronicles, and other Persian-language sources of the early Qajar period also use a variety of words to refer to gifts and to the act of giving, but the most common are pīshkish, tuḥfah, hadiyah, and ‘ināyat. The investiture of robes (khil‘at) was also common in the Qajar period to reward individuals and as a mark of honor. Tuḥfah, hadiyah, and ‘ināyat can be translated as gift or present. Pīshkish, on the other hand, is less straightforward. In the political context, it did convey the meaning of something given from a person of inferior status to a person of superior rank, as Browne noted, and in that sense often has been translated as a tribute: ”[Pīshkish] originally … had a fairly neutral meaning, [but] came to mean a present from someone of an inferior status. In the … fifteenth century, if not before, it came to be used also in the sense of a due or tribute paid to the ruler or his officials.”Footnote 30 As this definition implies, pīshkish could mean both gift and tribute, and even into the Qajar period the sources seem to confirm this. The term was used both to refer to items presented during the ceremonial New Year (nawrūz) processions, as well as to the individual objects given by subjects and vassals on other occasions. Because of the multivalent meaning of pīshkish, as well as the abundant usage of other terms in the historical sources to refer to the giving of objects, the words gift, tribute, and honors will be used in this essay to refer not only to the pīshkish ceremonies, but to other examples of giving.
The ethics of generosity (karam), largesse (sikhāwa, in Persian sikhāvat), and ritualized gift giving that all individuals, but especially rulers, were encouraged to cultivate were described in the “manuals of statecraft” (dastūr-i shahryārī) or “advice for rulers” (naṣīḥat al-mulūk) literature. The genealogy of prescriptions in the “manuals of statecraft” goes back not only to the Qur'an and Islamic ideals, but also to Plato, Aristotle, and pre-Islamic Iran, producing a genre that can be described best as Perso-Islamic.Footnote 31 Books like Ādāb al-Ḥarb wa'l-Shujā‘ah and Sa‘di's Gulistān prescribed the proper comportment and manners of rulers, toward God as well as toward their subjects, in the form of “counsels” (andarz) or “advice” (naṣīḥat), and functioned in much the same way as the “mirrors for princes” literature of medieval Europe in which gifts also hold an important place.Footnote 32 Even the Shāhnāmah, from which the story this essay began was taken, was understood, in part, as a book of wisdom and advice on kingship.Footnote 33 The exchange of gifts in the early Qajar period should be understood as part of this ethical culture.
Ādāb al-Ḥarb wa'l-Shujā‘ah, written by Muḥammad b. Manṣūr b. Sa‘īd MubārakshāhFootnote 34 in the late twelfth or early thirteenth century, and Sa'di'sFootnote 35 thirteenth-century Gulistan are well-known texts that emphasize the importance of generosity as a virtue and provide didactic instructions on gift-giving. Sa‘dī's Gulistān, in particular, has been described as “probably the single most influential work of prose in the Persian tradition” for its ability to convey advice and counsel through anecdotes and stories.Footnote 36 In one of the stories in the first part of the Gulistān, on the “lives of kings” (dar sīrat-i pādshāhān), Sa‘dī links the generosity and largesse of rulers to the redistribution of wealth in society, a prerequisite for establishing justice in a kingdom. He tells the story of a wealthy prince who received a large inheritance from his father, and “opened a generous hand, and gave with a just generosity, and bestowed an undeniable prosperity upon the soldiers and people.”Footnote 37 Likewise, Ādāb al-Ḥarb shares eighteen stories that demonstrate the traits of “generosity, forbearance, and beneficence” among early Islamic leaders and rulers, including of the Imām Ḥusayn, providing examples for future rulers to emulate.Footnote 38 The book also includes a significant portion on “the sending of envoys and gifts and presents, and their classification.”Footnote 39 Several dozen possible gifts are listed, including calligraphy of Qur'anic verses and exegesis, strong horses and camels, skins of lions, tigers, leopards, and cheetahs, knives with handles made from ox and rhinoceros bones, precious stones like jade, turquoise, and agate, fine linens and cloths, and generally “anything given in a spirit of friendship” or with the intention of securing peace treaties and agreements (‘ahd-nāmah) between governments.Footnote 40
Early Qajar courtiers and statesmen also recognized the importance of gift giving, of being depicted in situations where they received gifts, and of cultivating generosity as one of the attributes of kingly and princely character. The Shāhanshāhnāmah, written by the early Qajar court poet Fatḥ ‘Alī Khān Ṣabā to emulate Firdawsī's Shāhnāmah, includes stories of gifts being offered to Fatḥ ‘Alī Shah. Some illuminated manuscript versions of the book include paintings depicting the pīshkish offerings, a deliberate attempt to present the Qajar monarch as a legitimate ruler who deserves the gifts of his subjects. In one edition dating from 1810, a miniature depicts Fatḥ ‘Alī Shah seated on the throne used by Nādir Shah and receiving gifts from Mīrzā Riżā Qulī, the head of the royal chancery (munshī al-mamālik).Footnote 41 Moreover, one can find examples of the ideal generous ruler to which shahs and princes were to aspire in the writings of statesmen like Mīrzā ‘Isā Farāhānī Qā'im-Maqām (Mīrzā Buzurg) and his son, the celebrated Mīrzā Abū'l-Qāsim Qā'im-Maqām II, who belonged to the so-called class of “men of the pen”Footnote 42 largely responsible for “transmitting the Persian court culture to the Qajars and educating the princes.”Footnote 43 Mīrzā Abū'l-Qāsim, the second Qā'im-Maqām, was a minister to the crown prince ‘Abbās Mīrzā during the two rounds of Russo-Persian wars of 1804–1813 and 1826–1828, and was a particularly prolific writer of literary and historical essays, poems, and letters.Footnote 44 In a poem he wrote in praise of and with counsels for the crown prince, Mīrzā Abū'l-Qāsim addressed ‘Abbās Mīrzā as the “prosperous Khusraw,” a deliberate allusion to the legendary Kai Khusraw of the Shāhnāmah as well as the famous Sasanian Khusraw II, before counseling the prince on the “route to the Ka‘bah of court of kings.” He wrote that the “gifts of a giving king” are among the “particles of existence” that should be guarded by the grace of God, and continues, echoing Sa‘dī's parable about generosity and the redistribution of wealth, that “royal gifts are what give life to all things: on the one hand they bring forth prosperity, while on the other hand, they set an example for others to give gifts.”Footnote 45
Beyond the linguistic and normative conceptualizations outlined above, the giving of gifts was enough of a common practice in early nineteenth-century Iranian society that European travelers took note. John Malcolm, the East India Company's representative in Iran, wrote upon his arrival in 1799 and after spending some time in Shiraz that, “Our only occupation at Shiraz was feasting, visiting, and giving and receiving presents.”Footnote 46 In short, gift exchange among Qajar rulers was defined by highly ritualized ceremonies and couched in the language of generosity that made it central to the state-building project of the early nineteenth century. There was also an expectation that they would be given, and as will be shown, failure to meet that obligation could result in violence. The giving of gifts and presents was, nevertheless, a component of everyday life in Iranian society, and part of a broader culture of hospitality and generosity that was not confined to the realm of politics. In other words, the politics of gift giving in the early Qajar state was simultaneously an extension of the norms of broader society and a practice that stood apart.
LOYALTY AND TRIBUTES: PĪSHKISH
The Qajars actively cultivated the image of being legitimate rulers with imperial ambitions by resuscitating pīshkish ceremonies and institutionalizing public displays of gift giving that were meant to demonstrate their subjects' loyalty. Ideally, the pīshkish functioned as a form of tribute in the same way that the gifts in Firdawsī's story about Kasrā Anūshīravān in the Shāhnāmah did. In practice, however, rulers felt compelled to ensure the allegiance of provincial leaders and their subjects by imposing tributes upon them, leading some scholars to argue that the pīshkish “develop[ed] from a free gift to a tribute imposed on individuals and communities and a tax attached to the land and to certain offices.”Footnote 47 This depiction, however, reduces gifts and tributes to separate categories and obscures the dual role of gifts even into the Qajar period, by suggesting that in the early Islamic period gifts were “free.” Although they were a form of tribute, they were also viewed as something subjects should want to give and part of an exchange in which rulers would, in return, provide protection, security, or other favors.Footnote 48
Qajar rulers resuscitated the practice of annual pīshkish offerings that the Safavids had used during their reign. Every year on Nawrūz, the Iranian New Year, a procession of gifts and offerings from the country's provincial leaders and notables was paraded through Tehran's citadel and formally presented to the shah as part of the holiday's festivities. Far from being a superfluous exercise, the revenue raised from these ceremonies constituted a core part of Qajar administration and economy, accounting for, by some estimates, no less than two-fifths of the government's total income in the early nineteenth century.Footnote 49 The pīshkish was counted as a separate category from the fixed revenues of the state, or māliyāt.Footnote 50 If British estimates were accurate that in 1811 the fixed revenue was roughly 1.6 million tūmāns, then at least an additional 650,000 tūmāns would have been raised through the pīshkish.Footnote 51 The Nawrūz ceremonies were by far the most important source of gift revenue, but other forms also existed, including gifts from merchants who attended the royal camp and casual gifts.Footnote 52 Of course, on the provincial and local level, Nawrūz gifts were in more modest amounts. A series of letters from the early nineteenth century mentions small New Year's gifts given by notables in Azerbaijan, in amounts ranging from 50 to 200 tūmāns.Footnote 53
Administratively, the responsibility for making note of the gifts that came into the central treasury fell on the shoulders of the pīshkish-nivīs (registrar of the pīshkish). The origins of the office are unclear, but it existed at least from the Safavid period. In the Tadhkirat al-Mulūk, the early eighteenth-century manual of Safavid administrative practices, the pīshkish-nivīs is described as the person who “whenever presents were brought to the King” would make “a detailed list” of the objects before handing the list over to the chief royal eunuch, and was paid an annual salary of 15 tūmāns in addition to one-tenth of the one-tenth tithe levied on the gifts.Footnote 54 Whether the office existed in the early Qajar period is difficult to tell, but registers of received gifts exist from the Nāṣir al-Dīn Shah period (r. 1848–1896), suggesting that the position existed in the latter half of the nineteenth century.Footnote 55 From the early nineteenth century, however, we have numerous decrees (farmāns or raqams) that the shah or prince-governors sent acknowledging pīshkish offerings and which functioned as a kind of receipt of payment as well as a public acknowledgment of tribute paid.
Some of the best descriptions we have of the pīshkish ceremonies come from European travelogues. James Morier explained that this pīshkish, though called a “voluntary gift,” in fact “must be offered every year at the festival of the No-rooz; and like the regular taxes, is required in the same proportion, according to the means of the people.”Footnote 56 In 1812, William Ouseley was invited to sit in on the procession, and although the invitation “was not generally accepted,” he managed, with the assistance of an Iranian friend, to view the proceedings privately. He observed the king sitting in a small room overlooking the square (maydān) of the Tehran citadel, watching as a long line of over one hundred mules, each carrying on its back “a beautiful Indian shawl, and a bag containing 1,000 tūmāns in gold coin,” sent by the Amīn al-Dawlah of Isfahan, made its way through the gates.Footnote 57 Other British representatives also estimated Amīn al-Dawlah's portion of pīshkish to amount to 100,000 tūmāns.Footnote 58 Several other processions, sent by princes and notables from other provinces, had already passed through before Ouseley had arrived.Footnote 59 James Fraser, traveling through Iran in 1821 and 1822, estimated that the shah received between 1,000,000 and 1,200,000 tūmāns during the Nawrūz processions, and though cash was the preferred form, those who could not give in this shape gave it in shawls, jewels, horses, goods, and other merchandise.Footnote 60
The Nawrūz processions doubled as an opportunity for Qajar administrators in the capital to learn about the conditions and concerns in the provinces, and they highlight some of the tensions in center-periphery relations in the early Qajar period. On the one hand, provincial leaders and notables used the opportunity to bring their requests and petitions (‘arīżah) to the shah and had them read in his presence in a highly formal and ceremonious manner, similar to other royal functions in Qajar Iran. On the other, provincial governors and leaders were under pressure to meet their obligations and secure their positions by raising the necessary amounts of cash and goods to send as gifts to the king, a reality that supports the depiction of the gradual but fitful appropriation of urban elites into the Qajar administration during the late eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries. Christoph Werner, for example, has drawn attention to the transition during the first few decades of the nineteenth century from “de facto urban autonomy to a provincial court” in Tabriz, a process that he terms the “qājārisation” of the state.Footnote 61
From the perspective of administrators in the capital, the failure by provincial leaders to pay their pīshkish was not an easily resolvable problem, and was compounded by the economic challenges and infrastructural limitations of early nineteenth-century Iran. With travel from Tehran to provincial capitals like Tabriz, Mashhad, and Shiraz taking weeks, the enforcement of payment was usually left to local leaders, and without an effective and efficient way to ensure the pīshkish was paid, the shah had to resort to unsophisticated tactics when faced with the lack of payment. In May 1808, Muḥammad Nabī Khān and Mīrzā Aḥadī, two representatives from the province of Fārs, were called upon to appear before Fatḥ ‘Alī Shah and give an account of the administration of the province. After spending some time giving an explanation, the shah asked them if they had brought the 70,000 tūmāns in arrears as pīshkish. When it became clear that the two men did not have it, the shah summoned his servants to beat them and throw them out the window, at which point the Amīn al-Dawlah offered himself as security for the payment of the arrears, saving their lives.Footnote 62 Further evidence of the precarious situation of provincial governors, who were caught between the demands of the capital and their local realities, is illustrated by the case of Ḥusayn ‘Alī Mīrzā, the prince-governor of Fārs. In 1829 Fatḥ ‘Alī Shah marched on Fārs with six thousand troops in order to collect the arrears of pīshkish and taxes his son owed. As the royal retinue made its way to Shiraz, it collected money from villages and towns through which it passed, despite the attempts by some residents to hide out of fear. Upon arriving in Shiraz, a group of leading notables met the shah in order to hold him off, and after a couple days, Ḥusayn ‘Alī Mīrzā was able to collect 200,000 tūmāns to give to his father.Footnote 63 Nevertheless, threats of violence and coercion were not always necessary in ensuring pīshkish payments. In April 1827, Fatḥ ‘Alī Shah sent a farmān to his son Muḥammad Taqī Mīrzā, the governor of Burūjird, acknowledging the receipt of 4,972 tūmāns as the Burūjird pīshkish offering.Footnote 64
Qajar chronicles usually depict pīshkish offerings in starkly different terms, mentioning them in passing and with little discussion of the amount given. Instead, it was more important to note who was giving the pīshkish, from where it came, and whether it was a “fitting tribute” (pīshkish-i lā'iq). For example, in 1787, when Āqā Muḥammad Khān'sFootnote 65 political authority was still largely confined to northern Iran and the Zands in southern Iran still made competing claims to rule, Zakariyā Khān arrived in Tehran with “gifts, presents, and a petition of loyalty.” After presenting the pīshkish, he was invested with a robe of honor (mukhalla‘ shud) and sent home. The defining detail provided in the chronicle about Zakariyā Khān was that he was a notable from Georgia (Gurjistān) who served as the deputy to the governor of Tbilisi, Ereklī Khān, a point that the author of the chronicle no doubt made to underscore the tributary status of Georgia to Āqā Muḥammad Khān and Qajar rule.Footnote 66
It was usually in those cases where the item given helped reinforce Qajar authority that the chronicles specify the object. Items that helped underscore the legitimacy of the Qajars and drew attention to their image as royalty who resurrected earlier tropes of kingship were particularly important and deserved mention. The early Qajar chronicle Tārīkh-i Ẕu'l-Qarnayn informs us, for example, that in 1801 or 1802 Hājī Muḥammad Ḥusayn Khān, the governor of Isfahan, offered the gem-studded “Sun Throne” as a pīshkish to the shah.Footnote 67 Isfahan, referred to as the “abode of the sultanate” (dār al-salṭanah) in Persian chronicles, served as the capital of the Safavid empire for over a century, and despite being eclipsed by Tehran as the capital under the Qajars, continued to be a major provincial city comparable to Tabriz, Mashhad, and Shiraz.Footnote 68 Isfahan's former imperial grandeur and significance meant it was home to noble families whose loyalty was a priority in the early years of the Qajar period. Qajar rulers employed various strategies, including marriage alliances, to solidify their rule in the city. In fact, the “Sun Throne”Footnote 69 was offered as a pīshkish on the occasion of Fatḥ ‘Alī Shah's marriage to Ṭāvūs Khānum, an Isfahani who was close to Hājī Muḥammad Ḥusayn Khān, and who eventually became the shah's favorite wife.Footnote 70
The point here is not to prove whether all pīshkish payments were made voluntarily or motivated by sincere wishes to pay tribute, but instead, to demonstrate that the pīshkish served a political function as a legitimizing tool. Ann Lambton framed her essay on the pīshkish on the question of whether the term referred to a “free gift” or a “tribute,” and took a macro-historical approach in arguing that it evolved over the centuries to “a tribute imposed on individuals and communities and a tax attached to the land and to certain offices.”Footnote 71 But the evidence suggests that pīshkish was an ambiguous term that in fact was meant to be both a free gift and a tribute; early Qajar rulers viewed it as a demonstration of loyalty that subjects should want to give, and not as a tax or as a kind of imposed bribe. In a letter ‘Abbās Mīrzā, the crown prince and governor of Azerbaijan, wrote to his brother Rukn al-Dawlah in August 1829, he defends himself against accusations that he solicited a “bribe” (rishvah) from the Amīn al-Dawlah and goes on to say that if the Amīn al-Dawlah wants to give anything, let it be a pīshkish given of his own free will, not a payment given in the name of others.Footnote 72 This is not meant to suggest that there was in reality a clear line that marked the difference between the pīshkish and bribes, but simply to illustrate the fact that, at a discursive level, Qajar rulers viewed the two in different terms.
In spite of the difficulties with the enforcement of giving pīshkish, it nevertheless constituted a core part of the Qajar administration and economy. The pīshkish offerings contributed two-fifths of the total revenue of the Qajar state; only the revenue collected from the land exceeded this amount. Moreover, the resuscitation of the pīshkish ceremonies was part of a broader effort by Qajar rulers to portray themselves as heirs to a long tradition of kingship and who deserved the loyalty of their subjects. Items like the Sun Throne that were offered as gifts further emphasized the claims to royalty by the Qajars. In reality, however, the occasional difficulties in securing the pīshkish illustrate the tensions and fitful relationship between central administrators and provincial elites and rulers.
LARGESSE AND PATRONAGE
If the reception of pīshkish from vassals and subjects was crucial to the Qajars' presentation of themselves as legitimate rulers, then equally important was the display of largesse by rulers, in the form of redistributing wealth and granting honors. Fatḥ ‘Alī Shah patronized the construction, renovation, and reconstruction of more buildings than any ruler since Shah ‘Abbās I (r. 1587–1629). He extended the Gulistān Palace in Tehran, rebuilt the city walls, renovated religious shrines in Mashhad and Qum, and also sponsored projects in other cities, like Kashan, Simnan, Qazvin, and Zanjan.Footnote 73 As with any other monarch, these projects were meant to present the shah as a legitimate ruler who could construct befitting royal structures. In 1799–1800, for example, he constructed the Qaṣr-i Qājār (Qajar Palace) with lush gardens that included flowers, fruits, cypress, and fruit-trees.Footnote 74 But some of the projects were also a form of patronage that redistributed wealth back into society in the manner prescribed by the Perso-Islamic ethics of generosity and giving.
The most important manifestation of the Qajars' patronage was that shown the Shī‘ī religious establishment. Compared to their Safavid predecessors, who claimed political legitimacy partly on religious grounds, the Qajars had a more tenuous relationship with the Shī‘ī establishment. The power vacuum and political turbulence of Iran's eighteenth century contributed, as is now well known, to an assertion of authority by Shī‘ī religious leaders that temporal rulers like the Qajars had to manage.Footnote 75 To be sure, there were instances when religious leaders pressured the Qajar government into action, as when Shī‘ī mujtahidsFootnote 76 called for a jihād against Russia during the Russo-Persian wars of the early nineteenth century.Footnote 77 Financial assistance, gifts, and a general show of generosity towards these religious leaders were nevertheless crucial elements in gaining their support.
A case from early in Fatḥ ‘Alī Shah's reign provides a telling example of how the language of generosity was used in official correspondence, and illustrates the political etiquette and strategy of the shah with regard to Shī‘ī centers of power.Footnote 78 A decree issued on behalf of Fatḥ ‘Alī Shah in 1802 or 1803 announced that the shah would be sending five golden chandeliers, 217 tūmāns in cash, and about 217 loads (kharvār)Footnote 79 of goods to the Imam Riżā shrine in Mashhad.Footnote 80 On its surface, the decree is not particularly noteworthy; it does not call for any significant changes in policy, nor does it make reference to significant events or individuals. Instead, it demonstrates the ideal of largesse to which just rulers were to aspire, in addition to being a public act of piety and a subtle appeal for loyalty that the shah sought.
The gifts were sent only five years into Fatḥ ‘Alī Shah's reign, a few years after a rebellion and famine in Nishāpūr,Footnote 81 and just a few months after another rebellion and famine in Mashhad had been resolved only with the intercession of the mujtahid Mīrzā Muḥammad Mihdī.Footnote 82 The Imam Riżā shrine is one of Iran's most holy sites, holding the mausoleum of Shī‘ī Islam's eighth Imam, and is also located in Mashhad, the capital of Khurasan, a fertile, rich, and historically significant region that was one of the last regions to be conquered by Āqā Muḥammad Khān and crucial to the legitimacy of the Qajar government.Footnote 83 The decree announcing the gifts begins with an introductory invocation of Fatḥ ‘Alī Shah's qualities as a ruler, a typical feature of farmāns (royal decrees).Footnote 84 It then proceeds to announce that Mullā ‘Alī Aṣghar, the mullā-bāshī Footnote 85 and the “refuge of grandeur and munificence, the preeminent theologian and essence of the learned men,” would be entrusted with bringing the chandeliers, cash, and goods to Mashhad.Footnote 86 This glowing description of Mullā ‘Alī Aṣghar masks the reality that Fatḥ ‘Alī Shah often reprimanded him for drunken and dissolute behavior.Footnote 87 It is more likely that he was selected for the task because of his long-standing loyalty to the Qajar rulers, a point to which the farmān alludes by referring to him as “one of the long-standing supporters of this eternal state [i.e., the Qajar state].”Footnote 88
Other examples of gifts to the Shī‘ī establishment include the 100,000 tūmāns Fatḥ ‘Alī Shah sent in 1798–1799 for the repair of the golden dome and shrine of Fāṭimah, the sister of Imām Riżā, in Qum.Footnote 89 A couple years later, he ordered the construction of a new seminary, the Faiziyah, as well as repairs to the Imām Ḥasan ‘Askarī mosque, the hospital (dār al-shafā’), caravanserai, baths, and bazaar in Qum.Footnote 90 In an undated letter that Fatḥ ‘Alī Shah sent to Mīrzā Abū'l-Qāsim Qummī, an influential scholar and teacher in Qum,Footnote 91 the shah wrote that he was sending 100 tūmāns to Qummī personally, and another 100 tūmāns to be given to the poor.Footnote 92
Of course, gifts, displays of generosity, and financial assistance of this sort were not confined to leaders of the Shī‘ī community. During the first few decades of the nineteenth century, famine, cholera, plague, and other kinds of disasters and scarcities were familiar phenomena to Iranian society. Tribal incursions, especially by the Turkmen along the northeast frontiers of Iran, were also a recurring problem for inhabitants of the region. In these circumstances, providing relief to the affected population was an effective way for Qajar rulers to present themselves as just rulers. A letter that Qā'im-Maqām wrote to Allāh-Yār Khān Āṣaf al-Dawlah, Fatḥ ‘Alī Shah's chief minister, is a good example of how Qajar rulers couched assistance to the general populace in the language of generosity and providing for the welfare (khayr va ‘āfiyat) of society. In the wake of destructive raids by Turkmen tribes that resulted in food shortages and other difficulties, ‘Abbās Mīrzā, who was serving as governor of the province at the time, ordered the distribution of cashmere shawls, overcoats, and broadcloths to residents suffering from the cold. Qā'im-Maqām wrote to Āṣaf al-Dawlah with pride that it was as if the “Nawrūz had arrived early,” and that the crown prince, in spite of the food shortages, did not restrain from giving money and grain.Footnote 93 In his letter, Qā'im-Maqām went on to describe ‘Abbās Mīrzā's ability to lead his troops capably and recent defeats of Turkmen tribes in eastern Khurasan, suggesting that Qajar statesmen viewed delivering aid to subjects just as essential to effective governance as defending the frontier and military conquests.Footnote 94
The displays of generosity and gift giving were complemented by the granting of honors and offices through the investiture of the khil‘at, or robe of honor, which was usually accompanied with the appointment to political office.Footnote 95 James Morier witnessed a khil‘at ceremony in Shiraz in December 1808, in which the prince-governor gave a “brocade coat with a sash, and another vest trimmed with furs” to Āqā Muḥammad Ja‘far, the new vice-governor of Fārs. The appointment provides a good example of how the Qajar state relied upon local elites to help govern the provinces. Āqā Muḥammad Ja‘far had in fact already served as vice-governor before being removed from office in November 1808 for not preventing the governor of Bushehr, who served under his supervision, from abandoning his post. With the help of his brother, however, Āqā Muḥammad Ja‘far managed to recapture the Bushehr governor, at which time the khil‘at ceremony that Morier witnessed took place.Footnote 96 But the khil‘at ceremonies sometimes marked the honorable service of an individual who already held an office, and was used as a tool to encourage the continuing loyalty of the official. Ḥusayn ‘Alī Mīrzā, the long-serving governor of Fārs, for example, was given an honorary robe in 1810.Footnote 97 Other examples include the case of Kāẓim Khān Javānshīr, who in April 1829 was given a khil‘at as well as a medal of valor and a riband of loyalty, for his service during the recently concluded war against Russia,Footnote 98 or Mahmud Khān, the deputy (nā'ib) of Qarāguzlū, who was given a golden-copper robe and shawl by Fatḥ ‘Alī Shah, also in 1829.Footnote 99
In the context of early nineteenth-century Iran, when the Qajar government was still very much in the process of taking shape, investiture and the khil‘at were effective methods of strengthening the ties that bound individuals and not superficial and insignificant aspects of Qajar political culture. Scholars have long demonstrated the cultural cache of cloth—its ability to serve as a vehicle of not only power and authority, but of “holiness” and “purity”—in as disparate places and times as early modern South Asia and medieval Spain.Footnote 100 One can detect a glimpse of this in the legends that circulated in seventeenth- and eighteenth-century India of the so-called “killer khil‘ats”—poisoned dresses that contaminated and killed those who came in contact with the cloth.Footnote 101 These tales were obviously folk legends, but even less fanciful Qajar textual sources convey the special influence of khil‘ats. In an undated and surprisingly frank letter that Amīr Khān Sardār wrote to ‘Alī Pāshā Khān Dunbulī, a scion of the politically influential and powerful Dunbulī family from Khuy, Amīr Khān writes that he has heard that ‘Abbās Mīrzā, the prince-governor whom he serves, will give him a khil‘at soon. He then goes on to admit that he knows he has benefited from the good graces and favors of ‘Abbas Mīrzā but nevertheless is certain that the khil‘at is only a “manifestation of the pleasure of serving” the crown-prince.Footnote 102 The giving of khil‘ats, like the gifts to the Shī’ī religious community, were a means towards achieving the political objective of gaining the support and loyalty of individuals or groups in society.
DIPLOMATIC GIFTS
Thus far this essay has examined gift-giving practices as a form of domestic political strategy, but Qajar rulers also used gifts and honors to influence diplomatic relations, especially with European imperial powers like Britain, France, and Russia. The greater relative importance of European powers at the turn of the nineteenth century distinguished Qajar practices from earlier Safavid ones, which were mainly directed towards the Ottomans and Mughals. The most obvious examples of the diplomatic exchanges of gifts occurred when political negotiations and alliances were at stake. When emissaries were sent abroad, they often took gifts and presents with them. In a letter dated 28 January 1808, Horace Sebastian, a French representative stationed in Istanbul, wrote to the French Foreign Minister in Paris that he had recently seen ‘Askar Khān, the Iranian ambassador, pass through the city on his way to France. In 1808, the Qajar state was in the midst of the first war against Russia and, following the Treaty of Finkenstein of 1807, Qajar rulers were still hopeful for French assistance in driving out the Russian forces from the Caucasus. Sebastian wrote to the French minister that the Iranians had selected an appropriate and serious ambassador (une ambassade solennelle) who would be pleasing for the minister, and that ‘Askar Khān was bringing “many prized objects” as presents, including rare manuscripts, as well as the swords of Tamerlane and Nadir Shah. He went on to write that “never had Asia given any European prince such dazzling marks of admiration.”Footnote 103
For a diplomat or emissary, the gifts they were given were a tangible and visible barometer of the political, economic, and social condition of the country to which they were sent on mission. Recipients of diplomatic gifts often interpreted the gifts as a commentary on the stature of the giver, and on the health of the government more broadly. If a gift seemed inadequate or unsatisfactory, the giver not only risked embarrassing themselves, but also the government that they represented. In a letter from April 1729, Muḥammad Rashid, the Ottoman ambassador sent to Isfahan to ratify a treaty with the Afghan ruler Ashraf, relates that the mediocre presents given to him were reflective of the state of affairs in Iran in the wake of the collapse of the Safavid Empire. He goes on to say that the residents of Isfahan were dying of starvation in the streets of the city, and suggests that he was not permitted to enter the city in order to hide the terrible condition of the people.Footnote 104
Diplomatic gifts helped forge ties and build relationships, but because of the context under which they were exchanged the question of whether they were “fitting” or appropriate was loaded with cultural weight. Consider the story related by William Ouseley, brother and secretary to a British diplomat traveling in Iran in 1811. During their stay in Tehran in December of that year, the brothers visited the home of a certain Farajullah Khān, described by William Ouseley as a man “with much apparent frankness of character, and a simplicity of manner … nearly bordering on bluntness.”Footnote 105 After Farajullah Khān welcomed them into his home, he proceeded to offer his house and his garden as a gift to Gore Ouseley, no doubt as a mark of deference to the Englishman and an effort to impress the ambassador. Instead of taking this as a sign of hospitality, however, Ouseley read it as yet another sign of the “insincerity” of Iranians.Footnote 106 A similar episode occurred later in their travels. Passing through a small, beautiful, and verdurous village in the hills of Khurasan, the Ouseley entourage was approached by the chief of the village, as well as some of its residents. The group brought with them a tray of “fine apples” as gifts, as well as “an offer of the whole territory,” a gesture that was a common way of greeting not only foreign visitors, but also any dignitary or official.Footnote 107 William though sensed that the villagers' feelings were insincere. “Notwithstanding this generosity, they were, I thought, rather pleased when the mehmāndār [i.e., their guide] declared his intention of conducting me a little further.”Footnote 108
Similarly, giving an inadequate gift ran the risk of offending the person to whom it was given. In 1819, ‘Abbās Mīrzā asked Robert Ker Porter, the English traveler, diplomat, and artist whose travelogue is replete with sketches and drawings, to draw a portrait of Fatḥ ‘Alī Shah and present it to the shah. Ker Porter accepted begrudgingly, writing in a letter addressed to Mīrzā Abū'l-Ḥasan Khān of having wasted two months' time that he had hoped to use for “more interesting subjects than that of painting.” In the same letter, he went on to complain that upon presenting the shah with the portrait, he received “as a mark of the Shah's approbation the sum of two hundred tomans and an old shawl with a hole in it, which my servant sold for twenty eight tomans” and continues by asking,
What do you think of this handsome present? Certainly I was not an ambassador, but still, what I presented the Shah with, was more than any ambassador has it in his power to give—therefore claimed if not an equal mark of favor something better than the shabby one sent to the charge d'affaires for me. European sovereigns as you have experienced, as well as myself, make much more magnificent returns, even without anything given first.
As if to underscore the insult to his dignity, Ker Porter closes the letter by mentioning that he saw Mīrzā Abū'l-Ḥasan Khān's nephew, Mīrzā Ḥusayn, returning from a trip to Vienna with a handsome gold box, inlaid with diamonds and with a picture of the Austrian emperor, valued at no less than 1,000 tūmāns.Footnote 109
If an inadequate gift ran the risk of offending the recipient, then a related function of giving presents in diplomatic contexts was to build relationships, akin to the use of gifts domestically. John Malcolm, the East India Company representative sent to Iran in 1799 and the head of the first European mission sent to Iran in over a century, spent his first few months in the province of Fārs before heading north towards Tehran. During their time in Fārs, the prince-governor and notables from the area inundated the English with so many presents of ice creams, sweet meats, preserves, and fruit that “all in the camp, down to the keepers of the dogs, were busied in devouring these luxuries.” One of the Irish soldiers in Malcolm's escort was moved to extol Iran, in between mouthfuls of food, as a “jewel of a country.”Footnote 110 A similar episode occurred eight years later, with the new East India Company envoy to Iran, Harford Jones, whose mission was intended to counteract the French influence in Iran. Upon arriving in Iran and while stationed in Bushehr, the governor of the city sent Jones a present of some fruit and two horses, one for the envoy and one for the East India company's assistant resident. Offended at the lack of distinction, Jones sent his horse back. Having understood the perceived slight, nine days later the governor sent fourteen mules carrying fifty lumps of sugar, thirty-five boxes of sweetmeats, ninety-six bottles of lime juice, twenty-three bottles of orange and other kinds of sherbet, twenty-two bottles of preserves and pickles, thirty-nine bottles of wine, four mule loads of melons, and a mule load each of quinces and pomegranates. The whole procession was accompanied by a letter written by Naṣrullah Khān, a minister at the provincial government of Shiraz, filled with compliments and inquiries about health.Footnote 111
When diplomacy collapsed and tensions between officials of two countries arose, an exchange of gifts could signal a desire for the restoration of amicable relations. In February 1827, a dispute erupted in Bushehr among a local Arab tribe over who should be the chief of the tribe. Several members of one faction took refuge in the British residency compound in Bushehr, while the resident himself tried to broker an agreement. Members of the other faction in the dispute, displeased with the British for seeming to take sides, began forming armed positions outside and surrounding the resident's compound. The situation with the Arab tribe defused after the arrival of the Qajar prince-governor of Fārs, Ḥusayn ‘Alī Mīrzā, and his son, Anūshīrvān Mīrzā, and the ensuing negotiations. But the British resident sought redress from the Qajar rulers for the apparent disrespect shown towards British property, creating tension between the two sides.Footnote 112 At one point the British resident decamped to a ship off the shore of Bushehr as a form of protest.Footnote 113 Finally, after a few weeks, the matter was resolved. To mark the end of the matter and to ensure that both sides were satisfied, gifts of shawls, fowling pieces, and cut glass shades were exchanged.Footnote 114
The highest honor the Qajar rulers bestowed upon foreign diplomats and representatives was the Order of the Lion and Sun.Footnote 115 Iranian monarchs used the image of a crouching lion with the sun rising behind it for centuries—John Malcolm claimed to have seen coins from the Seljuq period bearing it as the arms of a local prince, and Jonas Hanway wrote that upon visiting the palace at Ashraf, built by the Safavid Shah ‘Abbās I in Māzandarān, he saw “over the gate which forms the entrance … the arms of Persia, being a lion with the sun rising behind it.”Footnote 116 But it was Fatḥ ‘Alī Shah who created the order that bore the image in 1808. Sultan Selim III had established an analogous decorative order in the Ottoman Empire, the Imperial Order of the Crescent (hilal nișanı), in 1799, which may have served as the inspiration for the Qajar iteration.Footnote 117 Fatḥ ‘Alī Shah gave the honorary mark to several early nineteenth-century European dignitaries, including John Malcolm, Richard Wellesley, Gore Ouseley, and General Gardane, among others, and usually following the conclusion of a treaty or agreement.Footnote 118 In 1817, for example, Fatḥ ‘Alī Shah presented the Order of the Lion and Sun, Shah ‘Ismā‘īl's (r. 1501–1524) sword encased in a luxurious belt, ten fine shawls, and seventeen brocaded cloths to the Russian General Aleksey Yermelov following negotiations to have the Russians recognize ‘Abbās Mīrzā as the heir-apparent.Footnote 119 The order was occasionally given to non-diplomats for their service as well. In June 1832, ‘Abbās Mīrzā gave the Order of the Lion and Sun, Second Degree, to Muḥammad Khān Sarhang for his efforts in “protecting the buildings, city, and bazaar, as well as the lives of the residents” of Tabriz during an outbreak of the plague.Footnote 120
Like the pīshkish and khil‘at, there was a political function to diplomatic gifts, presents, and honors insofar that they were meant to build relationships, ease tensions, and conclude agreements between Qajar rulers and foreign envoys and representatives. For visitors who in all likelihood had limited exposure to the day-to-day circumstances of Iranian society, the gifts they received were a short-hand indicator of the social and economic conditions of Qajar Iran. Inadequate or poorly chosen gifts ran the risk of offending the recipient and lowering the stature of the giver in their eyes.
CONCLUSION
The giving of gifts and honors permeated the political culture of the early Qajar state and was a central component of its administration. The pīshkish was estimated to make up nearly half of the annual income of the state during the early years of the nineteenth century, making it also economically crucial. Because the pīshkish was a practice with a long history, its resuscitation under the Qajars was a way for rulers to present themselves as rightful heirs to previous political dynasties. Thus the repeated mention in Qajar chronicles of “fitting tributes” and “appropriate gifts” and the distinction made between bribes and tributes. On the other hand, gifts from rulers to broader society were couched in the language of generosity and an ethos of giving to which rulers were expected to be committed. Similarly, gifts and honors exchanged between the Qajars and the British, French, and Russians were meant to convey an image of the Qajars as worthy rulers, even if inadequate or “unfitting” gifts ran the risk of conveying the exact opposite. The ascendancy of European imperial powers at the turn of the nineteenth century contributed to one of the distinguishing features of Qajar gift-giving practices: Europeans supplanted the Mughals and Ottomans as primary recipients of gifts and honors. And finally, the particulars of gift exchange during the early Qajar period point to a fraught relationship between the political center and the provincial periphery and between rulers and the ruled—there were, as we have seen, instances when pīshkish payments were not made.
The above depiction of gift giving also reminds us of the “elusiveness of the boundary between state and society” and a reality in which individuals, customs, and beliefs were just as important to governance as institutions and administrative offices.Footnote 121 Although the institutions and administration of the Qajar state have been the subject of much historical scholarship, less attention has been devoted to the social and cultural practices that helped forge the ties that bound individuals to the state. This essay has shed light on one of those practices—gift giving—and demonstrated the similarities between the Qajar state and other tributary empires.
In conclusion, it must be said that this depiction of gift exchange during the early Qajar period should not be mistaken for a belief that the Qajars were in reality “just rulers” who faced no dissent or disapproval. Quite the contrary; there are numerous examples of social upheaval, protests, and rebellions during the early nineteenth century. Qajar rulers were not, for the most part, latter-day Kasrā Anūshīravāns—to return to the Shāhnāmah story with which this essay began. Instead, this essay has illustrated the abundance of gifts in the administration and economy of Qajar Iran and has drawn attention to the politics of gift giving, a proper understanding of which should be included in any analysis of state-formation and statecraft during the early nineteenth century.
