This article aims to clarify an obscure passage in Plano Carpini's text, and subsequently in C. de Bridia's one, referring to a crushing defeat of Chinggis Khan, which has so far not been identified with certainty. The record of such a defeat is found in identical terms under the pen of Jūzjānī, and it actually appears that this strange narrative follows the pattern of the Mongol myth of origin, which is also common to the myths of the Türks, of the Kimeks and others. Here the argument is made that these accounts written outside the Mongol territory are therefore not only the result of confusion and distortion, contrary to what has long been thought. They testify to the existence of a legend of Chinggis Khan, built in an imperial propaganda effort directed at all the nomadic subjects of the Mongol Empire, and which placed the birth of the empire and the story of the origins contained in the myth on the same symbolic level.

In March, 1857, the Royal Asiatic Society received from Mr. Fox Talbot, in a sealed, packet, a translation of a Cuneiform inscription on a cylinder, bearing the name of Tiglath Pileser; the first of the inscriptions lithographed under the superintendence of Sir Henry Rawlinson by authority of the Trustees of the British Museum under the sanction of the Government. The object of Mr. Talbot in sending his translation in this manner to the Society is best explained by the following note, with which the packet was accompanied:—

The reconstruction of the library of Eastern medieval Jewish scholars and medical practitioners according to the Cairo Genizah is a long-term project. In the course of the work a Judaeo-Arabic fragment of a unique tabular medical book by Ibn Biklārish (T-S Ar.44.218) was identified by the authors of this article.

The fragment is unique in several respects, particularly (a) very few medieval Arabic tabular medical works are known, (b) only few works by Andalusian Jewish authors of the late 11th or early 12th century have been found in the Genizah so far, (c) only one Judaeo-Arabic fragment of Ibn Biklārish's Kitāb al-Mustaʿīnī is known to date.

The main importance of our find is that it is the first time that a rare Spanish medical book has appeared in the Cairo Genizah collection. Dozens of the Genizah's fragments have been identified as medical books, but none by a Spanish Jewish author, written in Judaeo-Arabic, and tabulated!

This article seeks to explain the traditional celebration of Cold Food and some other springtime customs in the mid-Yangzi basin in central China. In these rituals the ancestors and their influence in the production of new rice were highlighted while, at the same time, social reproduction through women was temporarily suspended. Female generative energy was not allowed to compete with the creative force of the ancestors in the fields. Cold Food is seen as a trope on seasonal agricultural tasks. The myth of moral constancy, which accompanied the festival, was on another deeper level an iconic exploration of the preparation of the agricultural fields. Death was seen to propel life, ancestral energy being transferred to the living through rice.

I Propose to offer to the Society some illustrations of the sacrifice of human beings as an element of the ancient religion of India.

In the first book of the Ramayana a curious legend is narrated of the son of the Rishi Richíka, named S'unahśephas, who was sold by his father for a hundred thousand cows to Ambarísha, the king of Ayodhyá, to supply the place of a sacrificial animal or victim intended for a sacrifice, but stolen by Indra. S'unahśephas is accordingly conveyed to the place of sacrifice, and being dressed in red garments and decorated with garlands of red flowers, is bound to the stake. By the advice of Viśwámitra he prays to Indra and Agni with two sacred verses (gáthás, according to Schlegel's edition; richas, in Gorresio's) communicated to him by the Rishi, and Indra bestows upon him long life, whilst at the same time the king is not disappointed of his reward. This version of the legend leaves it doubtful whether an actual sacrifice of the victim, or one only typical, is intended.

Public opinion is formed by the information that the public consumes. The state, whether democratic or authoritarian, employs various media of communication to influence people's opinions and behaviours. In the nineteenth century, Afghan rulers would traditionally use force and religion to gain popular support and strengthen their authority. In the second half of the century, they started to use print technology to build their relationships with the public. The state's print, however, had to compete with the institution of the bazaar that had long served as the central place where information circulated in public. This article, drawing mostly on unexamined Afghan sources, offers an account of how the bazaar operated as a source of information and how the Afghan state tried to suppress it. The history of this information conflict uncovers new aspects in the troublesome relationship between the government and the governed in Afghanistan.

This paper seeks to contribute to understanding of the dynamics of reference relation and subordination in Tibetan grammar. As a way of shedding light on this complex topic, it examines a translated sūtra, the Ye shes rgyas pa'i mdo, which contains numerous stories relating interactions and conversations between a variety of characters. A close reading of several representative passages of this text reveals some of the systematic structures of subordination. Despite not being outlined as a principle in traditional Tibetan grammars, subordination is seen here to be clearly reinforced by, and at times entirely encoded in, the use of the converb –nas to express coreference, and in the verbal noun and converb structures –pa dang and -pa las to connote cross-reference. The paper thus aims to show how attention to the functioning of subordinating structures serves the reader in the interpretation of complex passages where such structures at times provide the only key to the attribution of agency.

A short time before the departure of Colonel Rawlinson from England, at the close of last year, that gentleman gave me leave to copy and publish the paper casts which he had made of the Scythic portion of the Behistun Monument of Darius, together with any memoir on the language which I might compile. I have availed myself of his permission, and the following paper is the result of my labour.

The Pudu Mandapa (‘New Hall’) in Madurai is one of the best-known monuments from the Nayaka period of Tamilnadu (c. 1550–1700). It was built around 1630 under the patronage of Tirumala Nayaka as a major addition to the Minaksi-Sundaresvara temple complex that dominates the centre of this major Tamil town and Hindu pilgrimage centre. The Pudu Mandapa is well known in the West from the aquatint produced by Thomas and William Daniell, but this is only one of numerous other illustrations by Western and Indian artists in the late eighteenth and early nineteenth century of this single Tamil temple structure. A discussion of the Pudu Mandapa as an example of a major architectural type, the festival mandapa, is followed by an examination of the structure's architectural sculpture. The final section discusses the Royal Asiatic Society's collection of drawings of this mandapa and the European documentation of the south Indian temple more generally.

This study examines a little-known case of Enlightenment knowledge transmission centred on the rock-cut monument of Darius I at Bīsotūn in western Iran. It discusses a report on the monument published by the cartographer and historian Jean-Baptiste Bourguignon d'Anville, which originated with the Decalced Carmelite monk Emmanuel de Saint-Albert (born Jean-Claude Ballyet); who transmitted it to Isaac Bellet, a doctor involved in secret negotiations in Constantinople; who in turn sent it to Louis, Duke d'Orléans, in Paris; who passed it on to d'Anville. The collison of scholarly interest, political service and scientific personality offers a fascinating case study of the Enlightenment ‘republic of letters’ in action.

By correlating literary evidence, avian ethology and neurophysiology I will try to demonstrate why Vālmīki chose a pair of Sārus Cranes, and not any other avian species, to epitomise grief and sorrow in the Rāmāyaṇa. This choice illustrates the importance of personal experience of the living reality (behaviour of Sārus Cranes); but the grief, śoka, as experienced by Vālmīki, became in later critical literature, the rasa of karuṇa, the aesthetic appreciation of grief, as suggested by Ānandavardhana and explained by Abhinavagupta. By emphasising the central importance of affective states (sthāyibhāvas) in life as well as in the arts (rasas) Vālmīki, Abhinavagupta and Ānandavardhana appear to have had a perception of the human condition that is consistent with recent developments in affective neuroscience; and thus it is the pitch and the tonal quality of the cries of grief that convey the depth and universality (sādhāraṇatva) of the emotion.

For about 150 years scholars of unusual temerity have asserted that themes found in Buddhist texts, many of them celebrated in surviving Buddhist sculpture, can be found in the New Testament in more or less recognizable forms. If this were true, as in the case of Japanese philosophy showing through the work of M. Heidegger, students of the New Testament, already overburdened with conspissated conjectures, would be obliged to enter into a field which is not only unfamiliar to them, but, as a rival, unsympathetic. Few would take on such an adventure gratis. It has been shown elsewhere that parallels can be sorted into those which could have arisen anywhere, being invented many times over (such as the Golden Rule); those which are unlikely to have been invented more than once, but which can be attributed to one culture or the other, without hope of our deciding which is earlier; and finally those which are completely at home in one culture (say the Jewish) and exotic in the other (say the Buddhist), so that the conjecture that the latter “borrowed” from the former is attractive.

In recent years the image of the Mongols has undergone a steady change. This shift reflects a growing interest in the development of the Chinggisid Empire and its assimilation of the peoples and cultures that it absorbed and conversely the absorption, not always voluntarily, of things Mongol by the sedentary cultures which acted as the Mongols’ hosts. It was not only military technology, cuisine, medicine, art, and the practicalities and instruments for enhancing the quality of life and commerce which were exchanged but the intellectual ideas and ideals which underpinned the life styles of those who were encountered. Chinggis Khan famously aspired to provide his wives and children with the fineries of life and the best the world had to offer. But it was not just the material world that he aspired to but also the intellectual luxuries of scholarship and learning. Throughout the Chinggisid Chronicles there are references to wise men and learned advisors who were consulted on the great decisions but also not infrequently there are references to debates often described in language more reminiscent of jousting tournaments or duels than intellectual exchange. These learned debates, usually between clerics of rival faiths, were staged by various princes in courts throughout the empire for sport and entertainment. Their popularity highlights aspects of the regimes’character.

This paper will consider the nature of these debates and the traditions from where they might have emerged and at the same time it will consider the role of ‘wise men’ in Chinggisid society.