Yet I’m so very content here! As we console ourselves with twenty…five years
of memories we’re reminded not of the animosities; but of the beauties and
the pleasures of painting。 There’s also something in our sitting here with a
sense of the impending end of the world; caressing each other with tear…filled
eyes as we remember the beauty of bygone days; that recalls harem women。
I’ve taken this parison from Abu Said of Kirman who included the
stories of the old masters of Shiraz and Herat in his History of the sons of
Tamerlane。 Thirty years ago; Jihan Shah; ruler of the Blacksheep; came to the
East where he routed the small armies and ravaged the lands of the Timurid
khans and shahs who were fighting among themselves。 With his victorious
Turkmen hordes; he passed through the whole of Persia into the East; finally; at
Astarabad; he defeated Ibrahim; the grandson of Shah Ruh who was
Tamerlane’s son; he then took Gorgan and sent his armies against the fortress
of Herat。 According to the historian from Kirman; this devastation; not only to
Persia; but to the heretofore undefeated power of the House of Tamerlane;
which had ruled over half the world from Hindustan to Byzantium for half a
century; caused such a tempest of destruction that pandemonium reigned
over the men and women in the besieged fortress of Herat。 The historian Abu
Said reminds the reader with perverse pleasure how Jihan Shah of the
Blacksheep mercilessly killed everyone who was a descendant of Tamerlane in
the fortresses he conquered; how he selectively culled women from the harems
of shahs and princes and added them to his own harem; and how he pitilessly
separated miniaturist from miniaturist and cruelly forced most of them to
serve as apprentices to his own master illuminators。 At this point in his
History; he turns his attentions from the shah and his warriors who tried to
repel the enemy from the crenellated towers of the fortress; to the miniaturists
among their pens and paints in the workshop awaiting the terrifying
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culmination of the siege whose oute was long evident。 He lists the names
of the artists; declaring one after another how they were world…renowned and
would never be forgotten; and these illuminators; all of whom; like the women
of the shah’s harem; have since been forgotten; embraced each other and wept;
unable to do anything but recall their former days of bliss。
We too; like melancholy harem women; reminisced about the gifts of fur…
lined caftans and purses full of money that the Sultan would present to us in
reciprocation for the colorful decorated boxes; mirrors and plates; embellished
ostrich eggs; cut…paper work; single…lea