Exchange in the Mamluk Sultanate: Economic and Cultural (Association Pour La Promotion De L'histoire Et De L'archeologie Orientales. Memoires, 16) 9042952326, 9789042952324

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Association pour la Promotion de l'Histoire et de l'Archéologie Orientales Université de Liège

mémoires n°16

EXCHANGE IN THE MAMLUK SULTANATE ECONOMIC AND CULTURAL

Edited by Marlis J. SALEH

PEETERS

EXCHANGE IN THE MAMLUK SULTANATE

Cover image: al-ar r , al-Maqmt, MS Arabe 5847, fol. 105a. Courtesy of the Bibliothèque nationale de France (Paris).

 








     



 
 

 


 
    
 
 


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PEETERS LOUVAIN – PARIS – BRISTOL, CT 2023

Copyright Université de Liège A catalogue record for this book is available from the Library of Congress. © 2023 - Peeters, Bondgenotenlaan 153, 3000 Leuven D/2023/0602/58 ISBN 978-90-429-5232-4 eISBN 978-90-429-5233-1

CONTENTS

Marlis J. Saleh—Foreword

IX

List of Contributors

XI

List of Figures and Tables

XIII

Warren Schultz—Introduction

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Hannah Barker—Boys Like Gold Coins: The Trade in Mamluks for the Mamluk Sultanate

1

Milana Iliushina—Concubines, Daughters, and Wives: Family Ties Inside the ‘Dynasty’ of Circassian Sultans

17

Ellen Kenney—Makers On-the-Move: Mobility and Exchange in Mamluk Architectural Practice

41

Adeline Laclau—New Inquiries Into Artistic Exchange As Seen in Mamluk and Ilkhanid Illuminated Manuscript Production

69

Fadi Ragheb—Mamluk-Timurid Embassy Exchanges and the Gifting of a Māturīdī Tafsīr: A Historical and Bio-Bibliographical Inquiry

103

Rebecca Sauer—The Pen Case (Dawāt): An Object Between Everyday Practices and Mamluk Courtly Gift Culture

125

Housni Alkhateeb Shehada—Mamluk Acquisition of Horses and Slaves: A Comparative Approach

151

Index

173

FOREWORD Marlis J. SALEH

This volume presents the proceedings of the Third Conference of the School of Mamluk Studies, which was held in Chicago from June 23 to 25, 2016. It was a great pleasure for me, as the editor of Mamlūk Studies Review, to welcome colleagues from around the world to the third iteration of our then-fledgling project of the School of Mamluk Studies. The theme of this conference was: “Exchange in the Mamluk Sultanate: Economic & Cultural.” The act of exchanging one thing for another is ubiquitous in the history of all societies. It is found at all levels of commerce, from the local market to international trade, but it is not limited to economic matters. In the diplomatics and court practice of the Mamluk sultanate, the giving of gifts or the granting of rights, titles, or responsibilities were all forms of exchange in which the currency that facilitates the exchange was frequently something other than money. In societal relationships, ties could be strengthened by the exchange of family members via marriage, and in power relations non-tangible goods such as loyalty could be exchanged for wealth, titles, or other rewards. These are but a few examples of what exchange entails. The aim of this themed section of the conference was to focus on acts of exchange across these and other aspects of Mamluk society. Of the thirteen papers that were presented on that first day of the conference, seven were submitted and accepted for publication in this volume, and are presented here. I would like first of all to thank Warren Schultz, who conceptualized this conference and whose introduction to the resulting volume follows. He also contributed to the conference by teaching the accompanying three-day intensive course in Mamluk numismatics, continuing SMS’s signature feature of pairing a traditional academic conference with a complementary hands-on workshop. I would especially like to express my appreciation to my co-organizers of the School of Mamluk Studies, Frédéric Bauden and Antonella Ghersetti. Thanks in large part to their efforts, the SMS project continues to flourish. I am most grateful to Olaf Nelson for valuable editing and technical assistance, and to Frédéric Bauden for bringing it all together and preparing the volume for publication.

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Finally, my thanks to Bruce Craig, editor emeritus of Mamlūk Studies Review, the “founding father” of Mamluk studies in Chicago.

LIST OF CONTRIBUTORS

Hannah Barker (PhD in History, Columbia University, 2014) is an associate professor in History at Arizona State University. She studies connections between the Black Sea and the Mediterranean during the thirteenth through fifteenth centuries, especially the slave trade and the transmission of plague. Her book, That Most Precious Merchandise: The Mediterranean Trade in Black Sea Slaves, 1260-1500, received the Paul E. Lovejoy Prize and the ASU Institute for Humanities Research book prize, as well as honorable mentions for the Mediterranean Seminar’s Wadjih F. al-Hamwi Prize and the Middle East Medievalists book prize. Milana Yu. Iliushina is Professor of History at National Research University, Higher School of Economics (HSE University, St. Petersburg). She published several articles and chapters on the history and culture of the Circassian Sultanate. She holds a PhD in History (2009) and finished her postdoctoral research entitled Political History of the Circassian Sultanate (1382–1517) in 2022. She is currently involved in a research project entitled Mamluks in the Caucasus. Ellen Kenney, PhD in Art History (New York University, 2004), is Associate Professor of Islamic Art and Architecture at the American University in Cairo. She has published Power and Patronage in Medieval Syria: The Architecture and Urban Works of Tankiz al-Nasiri (Chicago, 2009) as well as several other articles and chapters on art and architecture of Egypt and Syria under Mamluk rule. Adeline Laclau, PhD in History of Islamic Arts (Aix-Marseille University, 2019) is a specialist on Mamluk artistic productions. She was a Bahari Visiting Fellow at the Bodleian Library (Oxford, 2021) and held a postdoctoral position at the Ecole Pratique des Hautes Études (Paris, 2022–2023). She has published articles on the material and social history of illuminated manuscripts produced in the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries in Egypt and Syria and contributed to the catalogue of the Islamic art collection kept at the Musée des Beaux-Arts in Lyon (2023). Fadi Ragheb completed a BA at McGill University, after which he pursued his MA and PhD at the University of Toronto, where he also served as Assistant Professor, Teaching Stream, teaching courses on Arabic and Islamic history. He is the winner of the 2023 Ibrahim Dakkak Award for Outstanding Essay on Jerusalem, awarded by the Institute of Palestine Studies’ Jerusalem Quarterly journal. He has published chapters and articles on medieval Islamic Jerusalem, the

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Faḍāʾil al-Quds literature, and on the Crusades and the memory of Saladin. He is currently completing a large study on Islamic pilgrimage to Mamluk Jerusalem during the Age of the Crusades. Rebecca Sauer holds a PhD in Oriental Philology/Islamic Studies from the University of Cologne/Germany (2013). She is Professor of Islamic Studies at the University of Zurich/Switzerland. Her research interests include Islamic intellectual and cultural history and she has published on Quranic exegesis, material culture, and religion. Warren C. Schultz, PhD in Islamic History (University of Chicago, 1995), is Professor of Islamic History at DePaul University in Chicago. He has published Numismatic Nights: Gold, Silver and Copper Coins in the Mahdi A Manuscript of the Alf Layla wa-Layla (Bonn: EB Verlag, 2015) as well several other articles and chapters on the monetary history of Egypt and Syria in the Islamic Middle Period. Housni Alkhateeb Shehada, PhD in Medieval Islamic History (Tel-Aviv University, 2006), is a Senior Lecturer of Islamic History and History of Art at the Bezalel Academy of Art and Design (Jerusalem), and Levinsky-Wingate College (Tel-Aviv). He has published Mamluks and Animals: Veterinary Medicine in Medieval Islam (Leiden: Brill, 2013), and papers on Mamluk history, humananimal relations, and Palestinian art.

LIST OF FIGURES AND TABLES

Figure 3.1: Floor plan of the Funerary Madrasa of Afrīdūn, Damascus, 1344 CE (© N. Rabbat / Aga Khan Program for Islamic Architecture, MIT; drawn by Saeed Arida) 61 Figure 3.2: Façade of the Funerary Madrasa of Afrīdūn, Damascus, 1344 CE (© Ross Burns) 61 Figure 3.3: Portal hood of the Funerary Madrasa of Afrīdūn, Damascus, 1344 CE (© Ross Burns) 62 Figure 3.4: Portal detail of the Funerary Madrasa of Afrīdūn, Damascus, 1344 CE (© Daniel Demeter) 62 Figure 4.1: The insulating border type 86 Figure 4.2: The unifying border type 86 Figure 6.1: Pen Box, Mamluk Egypt, 1304–5. Copper-alloy, ca. 32 x 6 x 7cm. Musée du Louvre, Paris, inv. 3621. © bpk / RMN - Grand Palais / Jean-Gilles Berizzi 136 Figure 6.2: Pen Box, Mamluk Egypt, 1345–46. Copper-alloy, ca. 31 x 8 x 9cm. Bibliothèque Nationale de France, Cabinet des Médailles, Paris, inv. des monuments du Moyen-Age et de la Renaissance 539. © Bibliothèque Nationale de France, Paris 139 Figure 6.3: Mamluk emblem representing the dawāt. After Meinecke, Bedeutung 238 141 Figure 7.1: Noble Arab horse. Zakariyyā Muḥammad al-Qazwīnī, ʿAjāʾib almakhlūqāt (The Marvels of Creation), Institute of Oriental Manuscripts of the Russian Academy of Sciences, St. Petersburg, MS 178 (Iran, 988/1580) 164 Figure 7.2: Favorite colors of noble Arab horses. Kitāb al-zardaqa fī maʿrifat alkhayl wa-ajnāsihā wa-amrāḍihā wa-adwiyatihā, Furusiyya Art Foundation (18th century) 165 Figure 7.3: Taming a horse. Aḥmad ibn al-Ḥasan ibn al-Aḥnaf, Kitāb al-bayṭara, The National Library and Archives of Egypt (Dār al-Kutub), Cairo, MS Ṭibb Khalīl Āghā 8, Microfilm 46631, fol. 91r (1209) 166 Figure 7.4: Horse’s teeth examination. Kitāb fī al-ʿināya bi-l-khayl wa-sāʾir dawābb al-rukūb, Bibliothèque Royale Hassaniya, Rabat, MS 6126, fols. 6v–7r (1714) 167 Figure 7.5: Horse mating with a veterinarian’s intervention. Kitāb fī al-ʿināya bi-lkhayl wa-sāʾir dawābb al-rukūb, Bibliothèque Royale Hassaniya, Rabat, MS 6126, fol. 26r (1714) 168

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LIST OF FIGURES AND TABLES

Table 4.1: Dimensions of original sheets of paper in Ilkhanid manuscripts 82 Table 4.2: Dimensions of the original sheets of paper in Mamluk manuscripts 83 Table 4.3: Chronological table of Mamluk manuscripts and their formats 93 Table 7.1: Mamluk Acquisition of Slaves 160 Table 7.2: Mamluk Acquisition of Horses and Mules 161

INTRODUCTION Warren SCHULTZ

This volume contains seven of the thirteen papers delivered at the themed day of the Third Conference of the School of Mamluk Studies held at the University of Chicago, June 23 to 25, 2016, devoted to the concept of “Exchange in the Mamluk Sultanate: Economic and Cultural.” As the preface points out, the monetary aspects of exchange were explored through the pre-conference seminar on Mamluk numismatics, and this monetary aspect of exchange appears as a crucial element of the final essay of this volume by Housni Alkhateeb Shehada. The themed day itself, however, was designed purposely to explore the wider implications of exchange across venues in art, culture, diplomatics, gift-giving, society, etc. The essays by Hannah Barker, Milana Iliushina, Ellen Kenney, Adeline Laclau, Fadi Ragheb, and Rebecca Sauer provide in-depth explorations of these broader contexts. Taken together, their contributions also illustrate the porous and overlapping borders between various forms of exchange. I discuss these seven chapters in the order in which they are found in this book, alphabetical by author’s last name. Hannah Barker’s “Boys Like Gold Coins: The Trade in Mamluks for the Mamluk Sultanate,” uses the simile of mamluks like coins to offer new insights into an essential feature of the Sultanate, the slave-market for Mamluks. Drawing upon a wide range of sources and examples drawn from the chronological breadth of the Sultanate, Barker uses the theoretical framework of “New Institutional Economics” to understand Mamluk state policy of slave purchase. As she explains, New Institutional Economics has a goal to “reconcile the idea of rational economic choice with the range of actual choices and decision-making processes available to real individuals living in real societies at various points in history. It does so through the concept of institutions.” Institutions in this approach consist of the informal and formal ways or rules by which humans in a particular society reduce uncertainty and risk. While not necessarily economically efficient or inefficient, these institutions constrain markets and “can help to clarify why they engaged in economic behavior that at first glance may seem irrational.” At the core of her argument is the Mamluk sultan himself. Barker argues that this approach leads to the observation that the market for mamluks within the Sultanate was “very unusual” since as head of state, the “reigning sultan was able to set the rules for this market in which he himself was the single greatest consumer, yet his decisions also affected numerous lesser consumers who wished to

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purchase slaves.” Her subsequent analysis is focused primarily on the purchased mamluks of the sultans, the mushtarawāt, who were frequently purchased by traders and brokers employed by the sultans. The institutions by which the ruling sultan affected the practices of these traders and brokers were economic and social in nature, consisting of prices offered and the privileges and honors granted to valued traders. Yet as Barker makes very clear, the reigning sultan’s actions were constrained not only by these domestic institutions but also by international ones. Chief among them were commercial treaties. Many such treaties were agreed upon with those powers able to influence the supply and delivery of potential mamluks from the Black Sea basin, such as the Byzantines, the Ottomans, and Genoa. Drawing examples from her recent book, she points out how religious sensitivities were one set of non-economic institutions affecting trade between the Mamluks and Genoese. Yet even that informal institution worked both ways, as she concludes that “Genoa’s ability to challenge the institutions of the Mamluk trade was limited by the vulnerability of its merchant community in Alexandria. The second chapter, Milana Iliushina’s “Concubines, Daughters and Wives: Family Ties inside the ‘Dynasty’ of Circassian Sultans,” explores the role of marital and multi-generational family ties to explore internal dynamics of Mamluk politics over the ninth/fifteenth century. This is an important analysis fully integrated into the existing scholarship about the role of women in sultanic households and Mamluk politics, and will undoubtedly inspire additional research. Iliushina never claims that these marriage ties were the only factor affecting the political events of the time, but she clearly identifies them as a source of prestige and a foundation for possible power for the men involved. She demonstrates clearly that such ties were found not just in the higher levels of Mamluk elite but even among lesser amirs. She does this by examining several case studies ranging from the sultanates of Barqūq through the end of the ninth/fifteenth century, and includes discussions not just of the marriages of sultans who reigned for years but also those made during the short reigns of several sons of previous sultans. While Iliushina discusses many examples, her conclusions are highlighted in her discussion of a case study of the period lasting from late in the reign of Sultan al-Nāṣir Muḥammad ibn Qāytbāy through the reign of Ṭūmanbāy I. Iliushina calls this period the “big wedding season” due to five marriages between members of Qāytbāy’s household and those of earlier sultans with the leading amirs then competing for power and influence. She is also aware that not all marriage ties were made with the daughters, wives, and concubines of the Circassian sultanic households. One salient example of this is her exploration of the marriage of sultan Īnāl to Zaynab bint Hasan ibn Badr al-Dīn ibn Khāṣṣbak. Her father was a member of the awlād al-nās famed for his knowledge of Arabic and fiqh, and his learning was evidence of “the cultural rapprochement between the Mamluks and

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the local Arab-Muslim elite of the ʿulamā’.” Even in this case, however, Ibn Ḥajar stated that Zaynab’s father was a descendent of the household of Sultan Baybars via female descent. Iliushina provides support for her analysis in the form of four helpful appendices, all in tabular form. The first provides an overview of the sultans Barqūq, Shaykh, Ṭaṭar, Barsbāy, Jaqmaq, Īnāl, and Qāytbāy and their respective sons who succeeded them, however briefly. The second summarizes the known marriages and wives of the Circassian-era sultans. The third appendix identifies those in-laws of the Circassian sultans among the amirs who used their marriage ties to further their careers but whose ambitions led to “arrest, exile, or execution.” The fourth and last appendix identifies those son-in-law amirs whose careers were not seen as threats to ruling sultans and who, perhaps due in part to that lack of threat, enjoyed serene careers for the most part. Ellen Kenney’s chapter, “Makers On the Move: Mobility and Artistic Exchange in Mamluk Material Culture,” moves the discussion of exchange to a new commodity in demand, that of skilled craftsmen and their knowledge of how to incorporate challenging architectural features in a building. It opens with a brief discussion of how art historians have discussed and critiqued the matter of influence across time and space, which she states is a crucial component of “how to identify the mechanisms of formal change in material culture,” which in turn is a central concern in the field of art history. The rest of the article illustrates how the concept of exchange offers a valuable alternative to influence for exploring cultural transmission within the Mamluk sultanate. As Kenney puts it, An exchange narrative differs from an influence narrative in that it points towards more direct processes of transmission. Whether the object of exchange is tangible (such as a made object or a raw material) or conceptual (such an iconographic reference or a collective memory), the paradigm of exchange creates more space for examining intentional interaction and known actors.

After identifying the limits of the sources—a rich base of surviving buildings as well as descriptions of those which did not couple with a dearth of detail from literary and textual sources—Kenney summarizes the alternative views of influence found in the works of Michael Meinecke and Doris Behrens-Abouseif, in which the former argued that the movement of skilled professionals was key in understanding Mamluk architecture and the latter stressed the importance of multiple modes of transmission and local contexts. Kenney’s study clearly utilized the latter’s approach, as she incorporates matters such as the presence or absence of a centralized architectural process, as seen in centralized building projects of a specific sultan or influential amir, to the impact of the careers of skilled craftsmen, whom she describes as “makers-on-the-move.” As she states in her conclusion, she favors a both/and solution to this debate, as both approaches are applicable. This is

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a rich discussion and is useful for the non-art-historians among us to understand the wider repercussion of Kenney’s research. Kenney puts flesh on her theoretical skeleton via a case study of the funerary madrasa of Afrīdūn al-ʿAjamī in Damascus built in 744/1344. Its patron was a wealthy merchant of possible Persian extraction. This building still stands, and was noted in its era for its fine appearance. Kenney describes the features of the building as well as its foundation inscription, noting especially that it was the first Damascene building to feature “fully bichrome (ablaq) masonry” in twenty-five years. Kenney then analyses this building from several perspectives, ranging from local construction practice to wider Mamluk practices across the sultanate and historical record of Mamluk construction in Damascus itself as well as exploring the supervisor mentioned in the inscription, “Aḥmad ibn Muḥammad known as … Ibn Imra’at al-ʿArīf,” about whom nothing is known. While Meinecke had posited that this man was responsible for a Damascus team of skilled architectural workers, Kenney points out that ablaq construction had not been used in any of the multiple building projects in that city over the preceding quarter-century. Noting that ablaq construction and other features required the skill of specialized masons, Kenney asks whether this absence of ablaq in Damascus and then its incorporation in Afrīdūn’s funerary madrasa were the results of an aesthetic choice, perhaps a repercussion of a lack of specialized masons. It is known that many Damascusbased ablaq-masons had been recruited to Cairo at the end of the seventh/thirteenth century—and she suggests that at least some of those skilled makers or their descendants had moved back to Damascus for this project. She raises the possibility that some of this movement may have been due to specific requests for commissioned work, which I understand as an exchange of the commodity of skilled architectural knowledge for pay. Would that our sources gave any evidence for the values of this commodity. The next chapter, Adeline Laclau’s “Economic and Cultural Exchanges between Mamluks and Ilkhanids: The Example of Manuscript Productions,” also addresses the question of influence via a different avenue of cultural exchange. In her paper, she explores the mobility of craftsmen and circulation of manuscripts between Mamluk and Ilkhanid territories from the late seventh/thirteenth century to the mid-eighth/fourteenth. Laclau begins her analysis by examining the wider contexts affecting the circulation of people and manuscripts, and secondly by focusing on the study of manuscript sizes and the formal variations in the geometrical structures of illuminations. She clearly explains why the illuminated manuscripts studied for this paper are limited to Mamluk material, drawn primarily from those examined directly and preserved in the Dār al-Kutub, the Bibliothèque Nationale, the British Library, the Chester Beatty library and the Khalili collections as well as via descriptions of manuscripts provided by cooperating curators and collections.

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Despite the infrequent mention in contemporary chronicles of the inclusion of books in diplomatic exchanges, Laclau builds a convincing argument that books were a common feature of diplomatic and private exchanges between the two territories. Moreover she establishes via a survey of the careers and the works of celebrated illustrators and calligraphers, among them the well-known manuscript artisan Ibn al-Waḥīd, that skilled artisans and craftsmen were also known to have crossed the borders between Sultanate and Khanate. This movement apparently peaked during the third reign of the Mamluk sultan al-Nāṣir Muḥammad ibn Qalāwūn, when rich Mamluk amirs provided yet another demand-side market for high-quality books. The next section of Laclau’s essay explores the format of period-specific Mamluk manuscripts, marked by an increase in manuscript size, as well as the “illumination programs found in those very manuscripts. She notes that the increasing size of manuscripts was not necessarily due to technical innovations to the paper industry allowing for larger-sized paper but due to the adoption of “large-folio folding,” or folding paper only once or twice thus resulting in folio or quarto sheets, drawing attention to the findings of A. Gacek and N. Ben Azzouna. Laclau summarizes her format-size analysis in Figure 2 of the study. The possible reverberations of this development and the potential repercussions of her hypotheses are then explored. In the last section, Laclau examines how Mamluk and Ilkhanid manuscripts (primarily Qurans) were characterized by their “similar ornamental program and their illuminated structures.” For the former, she explores the evolution of the components and their placement on the opening two pages of Quran manuscripts. Her analyses indicate that the flow of aesthetic practices flowed both ways across the Mamluk-Ilkhanid border. For the latter, Laclau focuses on how underlying geometrical plans underlaid the elaboration of frontispieces. Using the example of the use of the misṭara (ruler) to manifest the geometrical proportions of these manuscripts, she argues that similar attention should be paid to other technical tools used by these craftsmen. The fifth essay in this volume is Fadi Ragheb’s “Mamluk-Timurid Embassy Exchanges and the Gifting of a Māturīdī Tafsīr: A Historical and BioBibliographical Inquiry.” Starting from accounts in Persian-language chronicles which tell us that in 843/1439-40 a Mamluk embassy from Sultan Jaqmaq to the court of Shāh Rukh requested a copy of al-Māturīdī’s Taʾwīlāt ahl al-Sunna, this essay is an account of Ragheb’s forensic endeavor to discover if that book was ever exchanged and if so, does it still exist. The first stage of his research involved tracking down surviving copies of al-Māturīdī’s work, a task complicated by confusion over the name of this important text of Hanafi exegesis. Ragheb identified more than forty manuscripts by working through sources such as Hājjī Khalīfa and the foundational works of Brockelmann and Sezgin and also by examining the

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three published editions of the Taʾwīlāt available to him to trace the manuscripts they utilized. That effort was a dead end, but the manuscript review revealed several ninth/fifteenth manuscripts which have survived, although Ragheb concludes that none of them can be identified as the one sought after. Some of the remaining manuscripts are undated, however, and he urges further study of them. Ragheb then searched the relevant Mamluk chronicles for accounts of this embassy only to discover that while those chronicles account for embassies from Shāh Rukh to Jaqmaq, they contain no accounts of embassies sent east. Accounts from sources in both languages confirm the conclusions reached by other scholars about the good relations between the Mamluks and the Timurids during Jaqmaq’s reign, as well as the reputation of Jaqmaq as a pious man interested in religious knowledge. Thus while his initial investigation remains unsolved, Ragheb writes, “while the current fate and exact location of this specific manuscript remains unknown, further avenues of exploration are identified that provide the next steps to continue this investigation.” The penultimate chapter is Rebecca Sauer’s “The Penbox (Dawāt): an Object between Everyday Practices and Mamluk Courtly Gift Culture,” a sevenpart discussion about the dawāt as a high value means of exchange—a special form of currency if you will—used as a “status signifier in courtly environments.” The article is based upon textual sources and surviving objects (and the inscriptions upon them), all of which demand special processes of analysis and reveal different aspects of this important writing tool of scribes and learned individuals. Sauer begins her analysis with a description of the dawāt provided by alQalqashandī (d. 821/1418). Al-Qalqashandī describes the dawāt as “the mother of all writing materials” and goes on to describe its shapes, construction material, decorations, and care and use. Sauer then turns to the symbolic meaning of the dawāt which was intimately linked to Quran verses 68 (Al-Qalam) and 96 (AlʿAlaq) as well as to contemporary tafsīr texts which in turn made use of wellknown ḥadīth. These two sections set the stage for the next section, a nuanced analysis of the use of pen-boxes as gifts. Drawing upon inshā’ texts, Sauer shows that the dawāt was commonly exchanged between learned individuals across the writing profession, and that these gifts were often accompanied by descriptions of the objects given. She uses those descriptions to explore the relationships between giver and recipient. The article then shifts to a discussion of surviving examples of Mamlukera pen-boxes via case studies of published discussions of two such artifacts, one in the Louvre and the other in the Cabinet des Médailles of the Bibliothèque Nationale de France. Sauer then discusses the role of the dawāt in Mamluk heraldry, where it was frequently and not surprisingly linked to individuals who had served in the court rank of dawādār. As Sauer points out, however, the penbox emblem was also used for three other categories of individuals, the

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khāṣṣakiyya, “lesser” Mamluks, and civilian men of the pen.1 She concludes that future studies should keep in mind that “even an object confined to exchange processes in courtly environments is represented in a virtually kaleidoscopic manner.” Last but certainly not least, Housni Alkhateeb Shehada’s contribution, “Mamluk Acquisition of Horses and Slaves: A Comparative Approach,” focuses on the Circassian era due to source limitations for the earlier period. His discussion of slave markets and the significance of gift giving—both slaves and horses were common gifts from sultans—echo themes raised in preceding chapters. While at first glance horses and slaves might not seem a useful comparison given the many differences between where these commodities came from—for example, slaves came primarily from regions external to the sultanate, but horses usually came from within Mamluk territories or at least within their spheres of influence—and price differentials, Alkhateeb Shehada traces similarities in extensive inspection and grading practices and naming patterns for both slaves and horses. The data used in his analysis is conveniently summarized in two tables. The first consists of price ranges for slaves by ethnicity as observed by Emmanuel Piloti as gleaned by Verlinden.2 The second is a long list of horse prices derived from a study by Āmāl Al-ʿUmarī.3 Of all the chapters of this volume, this one by necessity addresses the complex monetary market place of the Circassian era in which these transactions took place. In this marketplace where precious metal coins of many varieties of both Mamluk and external origins circulated and thus exchange rates changed over time, place and other factors, it is extremely challenging to arrive at exact figures. Alkhateeb Shehada’s solution, to compare prices of the two commodities by “orders of magnitude” and not exact values, is nevertheless informative. In particular, his inclusion, when possible, of the descriptors given to coins specified in his second table is very useful. For example, the observation that several prices of horses were specified in silver dirhams known as niṣfs (halves) strongly suggests to me that at least some of these small silver coins of the ninth/fifteenth century were of such consistent weight that they were able to be exchanged by count and not by weight as was commonly the case for earlier Mamluk dirhams.4 In conclusion, as with all inquiry, these essays will undoubtedly prompt questions which, necessarily, vary from reader to reader. For me these questions 1

2 3 4

As an aside, note that a Mamluk copper coin featuring a pen-box emblem is known. It has been alternatively linked to the sultan al-Ashraf Khalīl or to al-Nāṣir Faraj. For Khalīl, see type number 152B in Balog, The Coinage of the Mamluk Sultans 127. This coin is illustrated on plate XXIX accompanying the article. For Faraj, see number 294 in Berman, Islamic Coins 99. Verlinden, Mamelouks et traitants. Al-ʿUmarī, Dirāsa li-baʿḍ wathāʾiq. Schultz, The Circulation of Dirhams.

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reflect my interests as a numismatist and historian of the Mamluk monetary system and many may be unanswerable unless new sources come to light. For example, among other larger issues, Sauer’s article asks what was the fate of penboxes of copper alloy lacking the precious metal adornment of the more luxurious specimens? One possible fate is one that all metallic objects face; remelting for other purposes. I am curious, therefore, if any pen-boxes were found from the wreckage of the Megadim shipwreck, which remains understudied despite its discovery several decades ago. Its hold contained several hundred kilograms of copper coins (overwhelmingly Mamluk) as well numerous copper vessels of all shapes and sized, intact and in pieces. Moving on, what were the values of the dowries linked to those marriages with the households of Circassian sultans? They must have existed, but do the sources tell of their contents? Similarly, what were the costs associated with the creation and dissemination of manuscripts? How much were the highly skilled artisans involved in prestige architectural projects paid? What were the expenses associated with their training? Finally, the central conceit of Barker’s chapter is the comparison of boy slaves to gold coins. This simile is derived from her opening quotation from Ibn Khaldūn which describes the slave markets of Abbasid times. While the benefits of paying high prices in gold dinars for valuable slaves is an important component of her chapter, actual prices are not listed. This is not surprising nor is it a criticism, as such prices are not central to her argument. Nevertheless, while gold is an easily grasped metaphor for high value, it should not be forgotten that the Mamluk gold coins used to purchase the young man who became the sultan Qalāwūn alAlfī, he of the one thousand dinar price, looked nothing like the gold coins used in Abbasid Baghdad, let alone those minted in the last century of the Mamluk sultanate.

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Bibliography Balog, P., The Coinage of the Mamluk Sultans of Egypt and Syria: Additions and Corrections, in American Numismatic Society Museum Notes 16 (1970), 113– 71. Berman, A., Islamic Coins: Exhibition Winter 1976, Jerusalem 1976. Schultz, W.C., The Circulation of Dirhams in the Baḥrī Period, in A. Levanoni, and M. Winter (eds.), The Mamluks in Egyptian and Syrian Politics and Society, Leiden 2004, 221-44. Al-ʿUmarī, Ā., Dirāsa li-baʿḍ wathāʾiq tataʿallaq bi-bayʿ wa-shirāʾ khuyūl min alʿaṣr al-mamlūkī, in Majallat maʿhad al-makhṭūṭāt al-ʿarabiyya X/2 (Rajab 1384/November 1964), 223–49. Verlinden, C., Mamelouks et traitants, in Économies et sociétés au Moyen Âge: Mélanges offerts à Édouard Perroy, Paris 1973, 737–47.

BOYS LIKE GOLD COINS THE TRADE IN MAMLUKS FOR THE MAMLUK SULTANATE Hannah BARKER

They wanted from time to time to choose the very best of them… therefore, they used to select from among the captives the very best: the boys like gold coins and the girls like pearls. They would hand them over to the palaces’ intendants and to the heads of the government offices. These would instruct them according to the ordinances of Islam and the Sacred Law and the manners of royalty and government and the wielding of weapons… The slave merchants bring them to Egypt in batch after batch, like sand grouse flocking to watering places. The rulers have them paraded and bid against one another to pay the highest prices for them.1

Why is a boy like a gold coin? In this passage, the Mamluk historian Ibn Khaldūn described the trade in mamluks, young male slaves with potential for military training and service in the highest ranks of the military and administrative hierarchy. What may seem like an off-hand comparison between enslaved children and the coins used to buy them was in fact a metaphor that operated on several levels. Coins and mamluks were objects of economic, social, political, military, and diplomatic value. Both coins and mamluks were necessary for the smooth functioning of the state; to that end, the minting of coins, the training of mamluks, and the circulation of both in Mamluk markets were carefully regulated by the sultan and his officials. Political instability, debasement of the coinage, and deterioration in the quality of mamluk recruits were often connected.2 Yet because both gold and slaves originated outside the boundaries of the Mamluk state, the production of coins and mamluks was also subject to forces beyond the sultan’s control. As a result, a thorough account of the trade in mamluks, like a thorough account of Mamluk coinage, must address their political, social, and economic aspects; acknowledge both internal and external forces affecting their circulation; and consider the interaction of the public and private interests in the household of the sultan. In order to untangle the complexities of the mamluk trade, this chapter uses the theory of New Institutional Economics to argue that the Mamluk sultan was uniquely able to shape the institutions of the domestic mamluk trade in ser1 2

Ayalon, Mamlūkiyyāt 343–45. Bacharach, The Dinar; Labib, Handelsgeschichte 423–40; Levanoni, A Turning Point.

2

H. BARKER

vice of his own interests. In the international sphere, however, he had to negotiate the institutions of the mamluk trade with Byzantium, Genoa, and the Ottomans. When Ibn Khaldūn wrote of boys like gold coins, he was describing the process by which the Abbasid caliphs selected potential mamluks from among their war captives. In contrast, the Mamluk sultans generally purchased their mamluks. The sheer scale of the trading networks that delivered slaves to Mamluk markets can be difficult to grasp. Men, women, children, and eunuchs originating from Russia, India, sub-Saharan Africa, Spain, and everywhere in between could be purchased in major Mamluk cities like Cairo and Damascus.3 From the midthirteenth century to the early sixteenth century, however, most slave boys deemed suitable for mamluk training came from the steppe and mountains surrounding the Black Sea, areas which are now part of Ukraine, southern Russia, and Georgia. A few came from Anatolia, the Balkans, and western and central Europe, but those from the Black Sea hinterland were the definite majority and were explicitly preferred by Mamluk buyers.4 According to contemporary sources, the mamluk population was composed primarily of two groups: Tatars, who came from the territory of the Golden Horde, and Circassians, who came from the Caucasus.5 They were stereotyped as physically powerful, brave, and naturally predisposed for training in knightly skills (furūsiyya).6 Tatar and Circassian boys could be purchased in the major cities of the Golden Horde, especially Solgat, on the Crimean peninsula, and the capital at Saray, on the Volga River. They were also available in the major Black Sea ports: Tana, at the mouth of the Don River, and the Genoese colony of Caffa on the Crimean coast. From these cities, merchants could arrange transport for themselves and their slaves to the commercial centers of the Mamluk world, Alexandria and Cairo, as well as Aleppo and Damascus. There the merchants would market their slaves to the sultan and his amirs, buyers who would recognize the value of excellent boys, pay well for them, and send them to the barracks for training as the next generation of mamluks. Boys not selected for military service might then be offered for sale to civilians. Among the various potential buyers of slave boys, the reigning sultan merits special attention from historians. There are three reasons for this. First, reigning sultans are among the easiest individuals of the Mamluk era to study because their activities are comparatively well documented. This makes it possible 3

4 5 6

Ayalon, L’Esclavage; ʿAbd al-Rāziq, La femme; Rapoport, Women; Marmon, Eunuchs; Muhammad, al-Raqīq; al-ʿArīnī, al-Mamālīk; Irwin, The Middle East; Little, Six Fourteenth Century Purchase Deeds; Loiseau, Frankish Captives; Rabie, The Training; Sobers Khan, Slaves, Wealth and Fear. Barker, That Most Precious Merchandise 50 and 76. Levanoni, al-Maqrizi’s Account; Ayalon, Mamlūk 16. Al-ʿAyntābī, al-Qawl al-sadīd, 50–54.

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to identify many of the mamluks purchased by each sultan and trace their subsequent careers.7 Second, most reigning sultans maintained a larger mamluk corps than anyone else in the Mamluk state. The mamluks of the reigning sultan fell into three groups: al-mushtarawāt or al-julbān, those whom he himself had purchased; al-qarāniṣa, mamluks whom he had inherited or purchased from the estates of previous sultans; and al-sayfiyya, mamluks whom he had inherited or confiscated from his amirs.8 Since this chapter is about the trade in mamluks and not the overall mamluk population, it focuses on the purchased mamluks, the mushtarawāt. The number of mushtarawāt could vary because some sultans purchased more mamluks than others, but it has been estimated that the Circassian sultans of the late fourteenth and fifteenth centuries purchased four to five hundred mamluks per year.9 Because the mushtarawāt had been purchased by the reigning sultan personally, they were assumed to be more loyal to him than mamluks who had come from previous owners. Thus, they were more likely to be appointed to high military and administrative posts. As a result, the sultan’s mushtarawāt also tend to be better documented than any other kind of mamluks. The third reason why the reigning sultan deserves special study as a buyer of mamluks is that in his mamluk purchases he acted not only as a private individual but also as head of state. The role of state policies in shaping premodern trade should never be underestimated, but it is especially significant in this case.10 In order to articulate how the politics of the Mamluk state shaped the trade in mamluks, New Institutional Economics provides a useful theoretical framework. The goal of New Institutional Economics is to reconcile the ideal of rational economic choice with the range of actual choices and decision-making processes available to real individuals living in real societies at various points in history. It does so through the concept of institutions. Within the New Institutional Economic framework, institutions are “the rules of the game in a society or, more formally, are the humanly devised constraints that shape human interaction.”11 These rules may be formal or informal, but their purpose is to reduce uncertainty and risk by creating a predictable structure for human interactions within the economic sphere and beyond it. It cannot be assumed that such institutions are economically efficient, since they are created to serve the interests of those with the power to make the rules. Identifying institutions, formal and informal, that constrained the choices of individuals participating in specific markets can help to clarify why they engaged in economic behavior that at first glance may seem irrational.

7 8 9 10 11

Amitai, The Mamluk Officer Class; Mazor, The Rise and Fall. Ayalon, Studies 207. Petry, Civilian Elite 22. Labib, Handelsgeschichte 118–9; Subrahmanyam, Of Imarat and Tijarat 775. North, Institutions 3.

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When viewed from the perspective of New Institutional Economics, the market for mamluks is very unusual. As head of state, the reigning sultan was able to set the rules for this market in which he himself was the single greatest consumer, yet his decisions and actions also affected numerous lesser consumers who wished to purchase slaves too. The sultan’s chief concern in creating institutions for the slave trade was to ensure a steady supply of young mamluks for himself, since their presence and service were essential to the military and political stability of the Mamluk state. As head of state acting for the good of the state, the sultan could not only draw on state resources and state bureaucrats to facilitate his slave purchases, but he could also use his legislative and executive powers to shape the formal and informal institutions governing the slave trade to his advantage. The sultan could draw on funds from the treasury, the bayt al-māl, to buy mamluks. His purchases were recorded by the naẓar al-khāṣṣ. The prices he offered, the trends he set, the tax rates he determined, the privileges and favors he granted, the treaties he negotiated, the officials he appointed to oversee the public slave markets, and the slave traders that he commissioned as agents all affected not only his own ability to buy mamluks, but also that of his amirs and all other potential slave buyers. The two groups with which the sultan had to deal in order to arrange a steady supply of mamluks were the traders who organized the transport of slaves from their places of origin to Mamluk cities, and the rulers of the states along the way, whose permission was needed to transport slaves through their territories. The traders fell into several categories, each of which the sultan handled in a different way. The nakhkhās, or retail trader in slaves and animals, and the dallāl, or broker, who operated in the public markets frequented by ordinary civilians, both operated at lower social levels. They had a poor reputation and were commonly seen as fraudsters, much like the stereotypical used car dealer today. The sultan dealt with them through regulations that were enforced by the muḥtasib, the market inspector charged with carrying out the Quranic injunction to command right and forbid wrong in the marketplace.12 The reigning sultan normally acquired his slaves not through public markets and brokers but through agents commissioned to purchase slaves according to specific instructions. For example, when the sultan al-Nāṣir Muḥammad wanted to increase mamluk imports, he “called the traders to him and gave them money, and described to them what was pleasing in male and female slaves, and sent them to the country of Uzbak and Tabriz and Rum and Baghdad and other countries.”13 The process of designating specific traders as agents, giving them a sum of money, 12 13

Barker, That Most Precious Merchandise 96–8. al-Maqrīzī, Kitāb al-sulūk ii, 524:

‫ وسيــرهـم إلـى بـلاد أزبـك وتـوريـز والـروم‬،‫لممـاليــك وا ـلجـواري‬ ‫حلـي ا ـ ـ‬ ‫ ووصـف ـلهـم ـ‬،‫ـطلـب ا ــلتجـار إليــه وبـذل ـلهـم ا ـلمـال‬ .‫وبغداد وغير ذلك من البلاد‬

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and instructing them in detail about where to go and what kind of slaves to buy appears in many other sources, including contemporary accounts from outside the Mamluk sphere. For example, Bertrandon de la Broquière, a Burgundian pilgrim and spy passing through Damascus in the fifteenth century, received help from Gentile Imperiale, a Genoese man whom he described as “a merchant on the part of the sultan to go and buy slaves in Caffa.”14 At around the same time in Caffa, the Spanish traveler Pero Tafur observed that “the Sultan of Egypt has his agents here, and they buy the slaves and send them to Cairo.”15 The institutions through which the sultan governed his agents were both legal and social. The agents were bound by reputation as well as by law to obey the sultan’s instructions. If they did not do so, they could be punished. Indeed, the sultan was better placed than anyone else to punish traders who embezzled his money or disobeyed his instructions. When Sultan Baybars commissioned an unnamed trader to purchase male and female slaves in the Golden Horde and the trader fled with the money, Baybars was able to track him to the eastern Mongol capital of Karakorum. Then, working through diplomatic channels, Baybars contacted a Mongol ally, Mengu Timur Khan of the Golden Horde, who graciously assisted him in recovering both the trader and the money from Karakorum.16 The punishment for violating his instructions was, unfortunately, not recorded. Many of the sultan’s agents in the slave trade also served as diplomats, combining politics and business in their travels to distant places. Their actions in both arenas were governed by specific instructions from the sultan. For example, Uzbak Khan of the Golden Horde sent the Mamluk sultan al-Nāṣir Muḥammad a gift of four hundred forty slaves in 1320.17 The slaves traveled with the bridal party of Uzbak’s niece, who was set to marry al-Nāṣir Muḥammad, and were escorted by a group of merchant-diplomats including the notorious Genoese patrician Segurano Salvaygo, called Sakrān in Mamluk sources. A smaller embassy from al-Nāṣir Muḥammad to Uzbak Khan seventeen years later was led by the trader Khawājah ʿUmar and the amir Sarṭaqṭāy. Their primary tasks were diplomatic, but al-Nāṣir Muḥammad also gave them twenty thousand dinars to spend on male and female slaves while in the Golden Horde.18 Majd al-Dīn al-Sallāmī was another figure who acquired slaves through both diplomacy and trade on behalf of al-Nāṣir

14

15 16 17 18

“Marchant de par le souldan pour aler acheter des esclaves en Caffa.” De la Broquière, Le voyage 68. Tafur, Travels 133. Ibn Shaddād, Tārīkh al-malik al-ẓāhir 308. Ibn al-Dawādārī, Kanz al-durar ix, 280 and 302; Kedar, Segurano-Sakran Salvaygo. Al-Maqrīzī, Kitāb al-sulūk ii, 423; von Zetterstéen, Beiträge zur Geschichte 194.

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Muḥammad, in his case by liaising with the Ilkhanate in Persia rather than the Golden Horde.19 Although Majd al-Dīn al-Sallāmī sometimes acted on instructions from the sultan, he also engaged in the slave trade as an independent merchant. Independent merchants tended to import slaves in small numbers, five to fifteen at a time.20 Then they would visit the homes of the elite and offer a carefully selected assortment of slaves for private inspection and purchase. For example, an independent slave trader of this class came to the citadel in Cairo to see the sultan al-Muʾayyad Shaykh, interrupting him during a game of cards, in order to show him a particularly impressive young mamluk.21 Shaykh was pleased by this and purchased the mamluk on the spot with his winnings from the game. Traders operating in this elite private sphere specialized more in knowing the tastes of their clients and fulfilling their whims than in any particular commodity; in addition to slaves, they imported jewels and other luxury goods. The reigning sultan shaped the activities of these independent traders through economic and social institutions rather than legal ones. Since independent traders could choose to whom they offered their finest slaves, the sultan had to assert the precedence of the royal household without antagonizing the traders or offending their dignity. The set of institutions through which Mamluk sultans carried out this delicate task usually took the form of incentives: prices, privileges, and honors. For example, when Sultan Qalāwūn departed on a military campaign and placed his son al-Ṣāliḥ in charge of Egypt, he left instructions for al-Ṣāliḥ regarding the independent slave traders: when one of the slave merchants arrives, warn him about selling what is suitable for the khass al-sharif [i.e., the sultan’s private property] to any of the amirs, whomever he may be. And let him expend the utmost effort possible regarding the warning about that. And when there is among them a thing [shayʾ, i.e., a slave] of excellent race, let him order the conclusion of an agreement over it [shayʾ], and the fixing of a price without delay since that is more attractive to the merchants and more conducive to achieving the goals. So let him write a tawqiʿ for the merchant in which he advances from the treasury that which will enable him to cover the cost of his purchase for one trip, and be generous, as it is customary for someone of his station to be, because that is more conducive to his [that merchant’s] return. And when a merchant comes to him with our marsum, specifying the price of what we bought from him over there, let him pay him the

19 20 21

Al-Maqrīzī, Kitāb al-khiṭaṭ iii, 132–3. Barker, That Most Precious Merchandise 179. Ibn Taghrībirdī, al-Nujūm al-zāhira vi, 374.

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full amount and do not delay from [paying] him his due for even one hour. Rather, take it to him in the shortest time.22

In other words, the sultan should demand the best slaves from independent traders before they visited the amirs, but he should also treat them respectfully, making payment generously and promptly so that they would return with more mamluks in the future. High prices were the greatest economic incentive that a reigning sultan could offer to an independent slave trader, but prices were also a matter of social prestige and political power. The sultan displayed his social prestige through conspicuous consumption, making a show of his wealth and generosity by deliberately paying above-market prices for fine horses and excellent slaves. But paying above-market prices for the best horses and slaves also had a political purpose: these were military assets, and the sultan needed to invest in the strongest and best-equipped mamluk corps in order to maintain his position against potentially rebellious amirs. Moreover, conspicuous consumption ensured that the amirs themselves would be aware of the excellence of the sultan’s mamluks relative to their own and thus be dissuaded from rebellion. The highest mamluk prices of all were reputedly paid by al-Nāṣir Muḥammad at the beginning of his third reign.23 Although the Mamluk chronicler al-Maqrīzī criticized him repeatedly for paying exorbitant prices for slaves, this seems to have been al-Nāṣir Muḥammad’s way of simultaneously claiming and consolidating social, political, and military power.24 Al-Nāṣir Muḥammad’s generosity, which was imitated by his amirs, may have driven up the price of a single mamluk by as much as 40,000 dirhams during this period.25 In addition to high prices, sultans could offer a tax exemption (musāmaḥa) to a favored slave trader. Merchants who received a musāmaḥa were placed on a list compiled by the dīwān al-khāṣṣ and shared with the dīwān al-inshāʾ which kept records of the sultan’s decrees. One tax exemption given to a khawājah merchant during the reign of al-Nāṣir Faraj excused him from all taxes within bilād al-Shām and along the routes to Egypt for all kinds of merchandise up to a value of 200,000 dirhams.26 Al-Nāṣir Muḥammad included a tax exemption worth

22 23

24 25 26

Northrup, From Slave to Sultan 190, citing a manuscript which I have not been able to consult. Discussion with Rania Elsayed and Housni Alkhateeb Shehada at the Conference of the School of Mamlūk Studies, The University of Chicago, June 23, 2016. Al-Maqrīzī, Kitāb al-sulūk ii, 524; al-Maqrīzī, Kitāb al-khiṭaṭ iii, 694. Al-ʿArīnī, al-Fāris al-mamlūkī 49. Al-Qalqashandī, Ṣubḥ al-aʿshá xiii, 40, an exemption for Muḥammad ibn Muẓalliq (1353– 1444).

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100,000 dirhams as part of the price for Ṣarghatmish, an exceptionally desirable mamluk.27 The final incentive that sultans could offer slave traders, both agents and independent traders, was honor. Slave traders were treated with respect, and the more prominent among them enjoyed a certain degree of influence at court. The most famous slave trader of his era, Majd al-Dīn al-Sallāmī, received gifts of money, land, and slaves from al-Nāṣir Muḥammad in addition to the prices paid for his wares. He was buried near the sultan’s own tomb, and the street where he lived was renamed for him after his death.28 Ibrāhīm ibn Qarmash used his influence with the sultan to advance the career of his brother-in-law at court.29 A unique feature of the mamluk system was that slave traders could gain honor and privileges through a second channel: the very slaves that they imported. Slave traders who delivered mamluks to the sultan could expect that, in the course of time, some of those mamluks would rise through the hierarchy of the court to gain wealth and power in their own right. Even if an independent slave trader was unable to develop a close relationship with the sultan himself, his relationships with the mamluks he had imported might also be to his advantage later through a type of reverse patronage. One example of this was the unnamed slave trader who imported the mamluk Baylik to Egypt. The trader took Baylik directly to the reigning sultan, Baybars, saying, “Oh lord, he writes and reads.”30 Baybars asked Baylik to demonstrate, and he was so impressed by Baylik’s verses that he bought Baylik immediately and for a higher price than he had initially planned. But the advantages to the trader of selling Baylik to the sultan were not limited to immediate profit. Many years later, when Baylik had become the governor of Egypt, his trader fell on hard times and wrote to him, reminding him of their past bond and suggesting that Baylik should share his success with his benefactor.31 After all, if the slave trader had not offered Baylik to the sultan, Baylik would never have had the opportunity to become governor of Egypt. This strategy seems to have been effective: Baylik responded by sending the trader a gift of 10,000 dirhams. Merchants were not the only participants in the slave trade whose activities the Mamluk sultan wished to influence, however. The cooperation of other rulers whose territory fell along the primary slave trade routes had to be secured in order to ensure a steady supply of slaves. The institutions governing international cooperation and conflict in the slave trade were different than those governing 27 28

29 30

31

Al-Maqrīzī, Kitāb al-khiṭaṭ iv, 655. Ibid. iii, 132–3; al-Ṣafadī, Aʿyān al-ʿaṣr i, 523–4, no. 270; Ibn Taghrībirdī, al-Manhal al-ṣāfī iii, 367–72, no. 668; al-ʿUmarī, Masālik al-abṣār 146. Ibn Taghrībirdī, al-Manhal al-ṣāfī v, 258–61, no. 1003. “ٔ‫”يـا خـونـد هـو يـكـتـب ويـقـرا‬. Al-Isḥāqī, Akhbār al-uwal 133; Ibn Taghrībirdī, al-Manhal al-ṣāfī iii, 513, no. 749. Ibn Taghrībirdī, al-Manhal al-ṣāfī iii, 513.

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domestic markets, most notably because they lay only partially within the Mamluk sultan’s control. The chief institution by which the sultan was able to facilitate international slave trade was the commercial treaty. The rulers with whom the Mamluk sultans most obviously needed to negotiate were those who controlled the straits from the Black Sea into the Mediterranean, first the Byzantines and later the Ottomans.32 Although the Byzantine emperor Michael VIII Palaeologus initially hesitated to support the Mamluks and the Golden Horde against the Ilkhanate, in 1263 he made a treaty with Baybars which permitted two Mamluk ships to pass through the straits each year. This provision did not mention slaves explicitly and would seem insufficient to satisfy the sultan’s demand for mamluks, but the contemporary Byzantine chronicler George Pachymeres believed that Baybars negotiated this clause so that his agents could travel freely in the Black Sea and “bring him the maximum number of Scythian youths purchased with large amounts of money.”33 A new agreement between Michael VIII Palaeologus and Qalāwūn in 1281 was more specific: If merchants come from the territory of Sūdāq, and wish to travel to his Majesty’s territory, they shall not be hindered in Our territory, but their transit and return shall be without let or hindrance after they have paid the due charge on their wares in Our territory. Likewise if merchants from the people of his Majesty’s territory appear, and wish to cross to the territory of Sūdāq, they shall cross from Our territory without let or hindrance, and likewise if they return; all this after paying the due charge. If these merchants from the people of his Majesty’s territory and from the people of Sūdāq are accompanied by slaves and slave-girls, they may pass with them to his Majesty’s territory without let or hindrance, unless they [the slaves] are Christians, for our law and religious code do not allow us this in the case of Christians.34

Sūdāq, also known as Soldaia, was a port on the Crimean coast in close proximity to the seat of the Golden Horde governor at Solgat. Under the new treaty, traders who had purchased slaves within the Golden Horde could embark them on ships at Sūdāq and sail directly from there to Alexandria. The fall of Constantinople to the Ottomans in 1453 did not have any immediate effect on the slave trade, since the Mamluks and Ottomans enjoyed more or less friendly relations. Yet when the Ottomans’ expansion brought them into conflict with the Mamluks, Bayezid II did not hesitate to use his control over 32 33

34

Ehrenkreutz, Strategic Implications; Amitai, Diplomacy. “Scytharum adolescentulorum maximum magna pecunia coemptum numerum ipsi perducerent.” Pachymeres, De Michaele et Andronico Palaeologis 177. Holt, Early Mamluk diplomacy 123–4; Ibn ʿAbd al-Ẓāhir, Tashrīf al-ayyām 205.

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the Black Sea slave trade to his advantage.35 From 1485 to 1491, when the Mamluks and Ottomans were first at war, Qāytbāy was unable to buy enough mamluks to replace those who died. The peace negotiations in 1491 included the release of Mamluk slave traders detained by the Ottomans. The threat to Mamluk stability posed by the disruption of the slave trade was only resolved with the Ottoman conquest of the Mamluks and the incorporation of Egypt into their own slave trading networks. A less obvious Mamluk partner in the Black Sea slave trade was Genoa. One might expect that the Mamluks would prefer to work with the Golden Horde, since the two states had established an early military alliance against the Ilkhans and developed it into a thriving commercial, religious, and cultural partnership. However, in the 1260s Genoa had negotiated trade and settlement privileges in the Black Sea from Michael VIII Palaeologus and Mengu Timur Khan. By 1281, the Genoese had built up the port of Caffa on the Crimean peninsula, gained jurisdiction over it, and established a local colonial government with officials appointed directly from Genoa.36 Over the course of the fourteenth century, the government of Caffa was able to exert hegemony over shipping throughout the Black Sea, first through a series of wars with the Venetians and Byzantines and then by taking advantage of a period of civil war within the Golden Horde. By the 1380s, anyone who wanted to ship slaves from the Black Sea into the Mediterranean had to pay taxes to the Genoese at Caffa. This included traders from Egypt or the Golden Horde supplying mamluks to the sultan. Thus, when Qalāwūn was trying to establish a secure basis for the mamluk trade, he made two treaties: the 1281 agreement with Michael VIII Paleologus which has already been discussed, and a second in 1290 with the Genoese in which Genoa agreed to protect Mamluk merchants and their wares, explicitly including mamluks as well as generic male and female slaves.37 Their agreement led to active cooperation between Genoa and the Mamluks in the slave trade, such as when the consul of the Genoese merchant community in Alexandria sent a procurator to settle the affairs of a Mamluk slave trader, Khawājah ʿUmar, who had died in Caffa.38 Apparently it was also this agreement that lay behind Tokhta Khan’s attack on Caffa in 1307–8. Tokhta alleged that the Genoese were kidnapping Mongol children to sell as slaves and that the attack was a punishment for their crimes. In fact, Tokhta’s intent was probably to punish the Mamluks by harming their Genoese allies, as al-Nāṣir Muḥammad had recently refused to cooperate with Tokhta in a joint offensive against the Ilkhanate.39 By attacking 35 36 37 38 39

Har-El, Struggle for Domination 198 and 213. Balard, La Romanie génoise. “Sclavos, momolucos et sclavas.” Silvestre de Sacy, Pièces diplomatiques 40. Venice ASVe, Canc. inf., Not., b. 222, reg. 1, fols. 14v–15r. Spuler, Die Goldene Horde 406; Balard, La Romanie génoise i, 202; Heyd, Histoire du com-

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Caffa and disrupting the slave trade, Tokhta reminded al-Nāṣir Muḥammad that their alliance was necessary for the security and stability of both parties. In addition to Tokhta’s collective punishment, Genoese-Mamluk cooperation was threatened by religious sensitivities attached to the trade in mamluks. A defining element of the ideology of medieval Mediterranean slavery was that only unbelievers could be legitimately enslaved.40 Therefore, young mamluks should come from the Christian and pagan peoples of the Black Sea and not from among the Muslims. However, Christian crusade strategists of the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries castigated the Genoese for allowing Christian boys to be sold to Muslims, converted to Islam, trained as soldiers, and used to defend Jerusalem against Christian knights.41 They and the papacy demanded that the Genoese uphold the Christian cause and stop the Mamluks from buying Christian slaves in Caffa. In response, Genoa established a new system in the 1420s to address these concerns without halting the trade in mamluks entirely. Before a ship carrying slaves could depart from Caffa for Alexandria, the slaves were counted and the relevant taxes collected. Then a bishop accompanied by a team of religious and laypeople would board the ship and speak to each slave about his or her origins and religion. If a slave was Christian or wished to become Christian, he or she was removed from the ship and sold to a Christian owner.42 Thus, the slave trade would continue, but only pagan and Muslim slaves would be exported to the Mamluks. This inspection system was a new institution—a rule created unilaterally by Genoa—that restricted the activity of Mamluk slave traders and tested the limits of the Mamluk-Genoese relationship. In 1428 or early 1429, Genoese inspectors in Caffa actually detained a shipment of slaves bound for the Mamluks.43 Sultan Barsbāy tried to reassert control by retaliating against the Genoese community in Alexandria, fining them 16,000 ducats collectively. The Genoese consul of Alexandria decided to obey the sultan and pay the fine by adding an extra tax to all Genoese imports and exports through Alexandria, but the central authorities in Genoa did not approve. They ordered the consul to revoke the tax, explaining that it would set a bad precedent. Instead, they sent ambassadors to Barsbāy to resolve “both the recent fine of the slaves, and the distribution of spices, and other daily annoyances.”44 The ambassadors were instructed to ask “that the sultan restore the loss suffered by us of those sixteen thousand ducats of gold which were extorted

40 41 42 43 44

merce ii, 558; Ciocîltan, The Mongols 168–72; al-ʿArīnī, al-Mamālīk 57. Fynn-Paul, Empire; Brunschvig, ʿAbd. Barker, That Most Precious Merchandise 186–208. Genoa ASG, Archivio Segreto, 1781, fols. 530v–531r, doc. 1410. Barker, That Most Precious Merchandis, 145–6 and 207. “Tam in avania recenti sclavorum, quam in datione specierum, et aliis quotidianis molestiis.” Genoa ASG, Archivio Segreto, 2707A/1, doc. 25.

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from our merchants as a fine for the slaves of Caffa.”45 If Barsbāy agreed, then Genoa would reinstate the slave trade under the same condition as before: “Having thus obtained everything mentioned above…it pleases us that you grant the trade in slaves from Caffa to the sultan and his people, with them paying the customary and appointed taxes and duties, but always with the preceding declaration, namely that if any of such slaves wants to become a Christian, it should be permitted, provided that the arranged price is paid to his master in Caffa.”46 The unstated implication was that if Barsbāy refused to reimburse the 16,000 ducats, Genoa could halt the trade in mamluks permanently. The negotiation seems to have been successful, since the mamluk trade through Caffa resumed shortly afterwards, but a new institution was now in place and the underlying threat to the sultan remained. To conclude, the Mamluk market for enslaved boys was unusual because of the reigning sultan’s role as both the chief domestic regulator and the chief consumer. Using the theory of New Institutional Economics to identify the various institutions which governed the mamluk trade helps to clarify its structure and the ways in which it changed over the course of the Mamluk period. During the thirteenth and early fourteenth centuries, no external power was able to dominate the supply of mamluks coming from the Black Sea in the way that the reigning Mamluk sultan was able to dominate the demand. Thus, the sultan was able to dictate the institutions of the mamluk trade without serious competition. Most sultans, but especially al-Nāṣir Muḥammad, used this power to ensure their access to mamluks of the very highest quality, regardless of the economic cost, in order to boost their social prestige, political stature, and military power. Later, though, the supply of mamluks came under Genoese and then Ottoman control. Genoa’s ability to challenge the institutions of the mamluk trade was limited by the vulnerability of its merchant community in Alexandria. The Ottomans were not constrained in this way and manipulated the mamluk trade as part of their strategy for conquering the Mamluks. Yet under the Ottomans, as under the Abbasids and the Mamluks, both mamluks and gold coins continued to be essential to the stability and smooth functioning of the state.

45

46

“Ut nobis Soldanus restituat sive nostris damnum passis illos ducatos auri sedecim millia qui a nostris mercatoribus pro avania sclavorum Caffae extorti sunt.” ASG, Archivio Segreto, 2707A/1, doc. 25. “Obtentis itaque omnibus suprascriptis…placet nobis ut Soldano ac suis tractum sclavorum ex Caffa concedatis, ipsis solventibus dritus et cabellas consuetas et ordinatas, hac tamen declaratione semper praecedente, quod scilicet si quis eiusmodi sclavorum vellet christianus fieri, id ei liceat, dummodo eius domino solvatur precium in Caffa constitutem.” ASG, Archivio Segreto, 2707A/1, doc. 25. The wording of this passage in Silvestre de Sacy, Pièces diplomatiques 74, differs slightly.

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Bibliography

Archival Sources Venice, Archivio di stato di Venezia (ASVe). Cancelleria inferiore, Notai, b. 222 (Antonio de Vatacis). Genoa, Archivio di stato di Genova (ASG). Archivio Segreto, 1781 and 2707A/1.

Published Sources Al-ʿAyntābī, al-Qawl al-sadīd fī ikhtiyār al-imāʾ wa-l-ʿabīd, ed. M. ʿĪ. Ṣāliḥiyya, Beirut 1996. De la Broquière, Le voyage d’Outremer, ed. Ch. Schefer, Paris 1892. Ibn ʿAbd al-Ẓāhir, Tashrīf al-ayyām wa-l-ʿuṣūr fī sīrat al-Malik al-Manṣūr, ed. M. Kāmil, Cairo 1961. Ibn al-Dawādārī, Kanz al-durar wa-jāmiʿ al-ghurar, ed. H.R. Roemer, S. ʿA. al-F. ʿĀshūr, and U. Haarmann, 9 vols., Freiburg 1960–72. Ibn Shaddād, Tārīkh al-Malik al-Ẓāhir, ed. A. Ḥuṭayṭ, Wiesbaden 1983. Ibn Taghrībirdī, al-Manhal al-ṣāfī wa-l-mustawfá baʿd al-wāfī, ed. M.M. Amīn and S. ʿA. al-F. ʿĀshūr, 7 vols., Cairo 1984. ———, al-Nujūm al-zāhira fī mulūk Miṣr wa-l-Qāhira, ed. W. Popper, 5 vols., Berkeley 1909. Al-Isḥāqī, Akhbār al-uwal fī man taṣarrafa fī Miṣr min arbāb al-duwal, ed. M. Muhannā, Cairo 1893. Al-Maqrīzī, Kitāb al-khiṭaṭ wa-l-āthār fī Miṣr wa-l-Qāhira, ed. A.F. Sayyid, 5 vols., London 2002–4. ———. Kitāb al-sulūk li-maʿrifat duwal al-mulūk. Edited by M.Z. and S. ʿA. al-F. ʿĀshūr. 4 vols. Cairo, 1934–73. Pachymeres, De Michaele et Andronico Palaeologis libri tredecim, ed. I. Bekker, 2 vols., Bonn 1835. Al-Qalqashandī, Ṣubḥ al-aʿshá fī ṣināʿat al-inshāʾ, 14 vols., Cairo 1913–9. Al-Ṣafadī, Aʿyān al-ʿaṣr wa-aʿwān al-naṣr, ed. F. Sezgin, 3 vols., Frankfurt 1990. Tafur, Travels and Adventures, 1435–1439, trans. M. Letts, London 1926.

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Al-ʿUmarī, Masālik al-abṣār fī mamālik al-amṣār: Dawlat al-mamālīk al-ūlá, ed. D. Krawulsky, Beirut 1986. Von Zetterstéen, K.W., Beiträge zur Geschichte der Mamlūkensultane in den Jahren 690–741 der Higra nach arabischen Handschriften, Leiden 1919.

References ʿAbd al-Rāziq, A., La femme au temps des Mamlouks en Égypte, Cairo 1973. Amitai, R., Diplomacy and the Slave Trade in the Eastern Mediterranean: A Reexamination of the Mamluk-Byzantine-Genoese Triangle in the Late Thirteenth Century in Light of the Existing Early Correspondence, in Oriente Moderno 88 (2008), 349–68. ———, The Mamluk Officer Class during the Reign of Sultan Baybars, in Y. Lev (ed.), War and Society in the Eastern Mediterranean, 7th–15th Centuries, Leiden 1997, 267–300. Al-ʿArīnī, al-S. al-B., al-Fāris al-mamlūkī, in al-Majalla al-tārīkhiyya al-Miṣriyya 5 (1956), 47–72. ———, al-Mamālīk, Beirut 1967. Ayalon, D., L’Esclavage du mamelouk, in Oriental Notes and Studies 1 (1951), 1– 66. ———, Mamlūk: Military Slavery in Egypt and Syria, in id., Islam and the Abode of War: Military Slaves and Islamic Adversaries, Aldershot 1994. ———, Mamlūkiyyāt, in Jerusalem Studies in Arabic and Islam 2 (1980), 321– 49. ———, Studies on the Structure of the Mamluk Army I, in Bulletin of the School of Oriental and African Studies 15 (1953), 203–28. Bacharach, J., The Dinar versus the Ducat, in International Journal of Middle East Studies 4 (1973), 77–96. Balard, M., La Romanie génoise (XIIe–début du XVe siècle), 2 vols., Genoa 1978. Barker, H., That Most Precious Merchandise: The Mediterranean Trade in Black Sea Slaves, 1260–1500, Philadelphia 2019. Brunschvig, R., ʿAbd, in Encyclopaedia of Islam, 2nd ed., i, 24–40. Ciocîltan, V., The Mongols and the Black Sea Trade in the Thirteenth and Fourteenth Centuries, trans. S. Willcocks, Leiden 2012. Ehrenkreutz, A., Strategic Implications of the Slave Trade between Genoa and

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Mamluk Egypt in the Second Half of the Thirteenth Century, in A. Udovitch (ed.), The Islamic Middle East, 700–1900: Studies in Economic and Social History, Princeton 1981, 335–345. Fynn-Paul, J., Empire, Monotheism and Slavery in the Greater Mediterranean Region from Antiquity to the Early Modern Era, in Past and Present 205 (2009), 3–40. Har-El, Sh., Struggle for Domination in the Middle East: The Ottoman-Mamluk War, 1485–91, Leiden 1995. Heyd, W., Histoire du commerce du Levant au Moyen-Âge, trans F. Raynaud, 2 vols., Amsterdam 1967. Holt, P.M., Early Mamluk Diplomacy (1260–1290): Treaties of Baybars and Qalawun with Christian Rulers, Leiden 1995. Irwin, R., The Middle East in the Middle Ages: The Early Mamluk Sultanate 1250–1382, Carbondale 1986. Kedar, B.Z., Segurano-Sakran Salvaygo: Un mercante genovese al servizio dei sultani mamalucchi, c.1303–1322, in Fatti e idee di storia economica nei secoli XII–XX: Studi dedicati a Franco Borlandi, Bologna 1977, 75–91. Labib, S.Y., Handelsgeschichte Ägyptens im Spätmittelalter (1171–1517), Wiesbaden 1965. Levanoni, A., Al-Maqrizi’s Account of the Transition from Turkish to Circassian Mamluk Sultanate: History in the Service of Faith, in H. Kennedy (ed.), The Historiography of Islamic Egypt (c.950–1800), Leiden 2001, 93–105. ———, A Turning Point in Mamluk History: The Third Reign of al-Nāṣir Muḥammad ibn Qalāwūn (1310–1341), Leiden 1995. Little, D.P., Six Fourteenth Century Purchase Deeds for Slaves from al-Ḥaram ašŠarīf, in Zeitschrift der Deutschen Morgenländischen Gesellschaft 131 (1981), 297–337. Loiseau, J., Frankish Captives in Mamluk Cairo, in al-Masāq 23 (2011), 37–52. Marmon, Sh., Eunuchs and Sacred Boundaries in Islamic Society, Oxford 1995. Mazor, A., The Rise and Fall of a Muslim Regiment: The Manṣūriyya in the First Mamluk Sultanate, 678/1279–741/1341, Göttingen 2015. Muḥammad, L., al-Raqīq wa-l-tijāra fī Miṣr wa-l-Shām fī ʿaṣr dawlat salāṭīn almamālīk, 648–923 H./1250–1517 M., M.A. thesis, Cairo University 1993. North, D., Institutions, Institutional Change, and Economic Performance, Cambridge 1990. Northrup, L., From Slave to Sultan: The Career of al-Manṣūr Qalāwūn and the

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Consolidation of Mamluk Rule in Egypt and Syria (678–689 A.H./1279–1290 A.D.), Stuttgart 1998. Petry, C.F., The Civilian Elite of Cairo in the Later Middle Ages, Princeton 1981. Rabie, H., The Training of the Mamluk Faris, in V. J. Parry and M. E. Yapp (eds.), War, Technology and Society in the Middle East, London 1975, 153–63. Rapoport, Y., Women and Gender in Mamluk Society: An Overview, in Mamlūk Studies Review 11 (2007), 1–48. Silvestre de Sacy, A.-I., Pièces diplomatiques tirées dans archives de la République de Gênes, in Notices et extraits des manuscrits de la Bibliothèque du roi, et autres bibliothèques 11 (1827), 1–96. Sobers Khan, N., Slaves, Wealth and Fear: An Episode from Late Mamluk-Era Egypt, in Oriens 37 (2009), 155–61. Spuler, B., Die Goldene Horde: Die Mongolen in Russland, 1223–1502, Wiesbaden 1965. Subrahmanyam, S., Of Imarat and Tijarat: Asian Merchants and State Power in the Western Indian Ocean, 1400–1750, in Comparative Studies in Society and History 37 (1995), 750–80.

CONCUBINES, DAUGHTERS, AND WIVES FAMILY TIES INSIDE THE ‘DYNASTY’ OF CIRCASSIAN SULTANS Milana ILIUSHINA

The issues of women and gender in Mamluk society have been frequently viewed in the literature, especially in recent years.1 In his 2007 article, Yossef Rapoport convincingly demonstrated that documents and narrative sources contain rich and diverse information on the women of the Mamluk era, and analyzing the issues of women and gender plays an important part in the study of the political and economic history of the Mamluk Sultanate.2 Meanwhile, the role of women in the politics of this period (except the unique case of Shajar al-Durr’s rule [r. 1250]) has been discussed far less than their social, economic, or cultural activities. One of the earliest works to consider, among other topics, the political influence of the women of the sultan’s household was Aḥmad ʿAbd al-Rāziq’s La femme au temps des Mamlouks en Égypte. The monograph includes vast material on family and marriage ties, with the repeated marriages of Mamluk women, in particular, being explained by the desire of widows and divorced women to be protected and to have a certain social status.3 That said, the political impact of such marriages and their effects on the careers of high-ranking officers were not the main objectives of ʿAbd al-Rāziq’s study, which focused primarily on the “women’s side” of the issue. Yet matrimony certainly implies an interest from men, too: fiancés, fathers, brothers, or, in the case of concubines, owners. Men’s motivations were often political, especially when the wife-to-be belonged to the sultan’s household. An examination of the family ties and political consequences of marriages inside the “dynasty” of the Circassian sultans became a growing trend in Mamluk studies: the “family impulse” in Mamluk politics in general and the “dynastic impulse” in the succession of the Circassian sultans. As David Ayalon pointed out already in 1949, the support of brothers-inlaw and relatives was of major importance to Mamluk sultans in securing the continuity of their rule. His idea “to call the second half of the Circassian period ‘the

1 2 3

See, for instance, Berkey, al-Subkī; Frenkel, Women; Guo, Tales; Petry, Estate. Rapoport, Women. ʿAbd al-Rāziq, La femme 170. The economic aspect of such marriages was studied by Carl Petry through considering the several marriages of Qāytbāy’s widow, Fāṭima al-Khaṣṣbakiyya. Petry points out that these marriages should be interpreted as Fāṭima’s determination to maintain the integrity of her estate (Petry, Estate 280).

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period of rule by brothers-in-law and relatives’”4 inspired further research in this area. Anne Broadbridge brought into view “the attempt by high-ranking mamluks to create a network of support based on a family.” She explored the mamluks’ relations with their biological kin and the role of these relations in the politics of the Mamluk Sultanate using the terms “Extended Family Impulse” and “Dynastic Impulse.”5 The question of the political implications of marriages to the women of the sultan’s household was addressed in Hiba Maḥmūd Saʿd ʿAbd al-Nabī’s paper on marriage in the sultans’ families in the Mamluk period. ʿAbd al-Nabī calls attention to the fact that the Mamluk sultans often married their predecessors’ widows, and when marrying their daughters off they sought to gain loyal allies in their new sons-in-law. Like ʿAbd al-Rāziq’s work, ʿAbd al-Nabī’s paper is rich in facts, which include the cases of an amir’s marriage to a woman from the sultan’s household serving as a facilitator for the advancement of his career.6 A variety of social ties of sultans and amirs in general, and in particular the role of mamluks’ relatives in the politics of the sultanate, are considered in a number of publications by Koby Yosef.7 Yosef argues that “marital ties were extremely important in the continuity of the household” and that almost all sultans during the Circassian period were related by marital ties.8 He shows the special position the Mamluk amirs with marital ties to the sultan’s family had in the Mamluk political hierarchy and puts forward the idea that “the status of the women of the sultan’s family devolved to those amirs.”9 The question of how these amirs used their newly attained high status brings us very close to the issue of throne succession. The patterns of succession in the Mamluk Sultanate have been repeatedly discussed.10 Henning Sievert’s Der Herrscherwechsel im Mamlukensultanat deals specifically with the succession during the Circassian period. Sievert emphasizes the role of factions and argues that the institution of niẓām al-mamlaka (regent) “became a constitutive element of the Circassian tradition of succession.”11 Here I shall stress that all the

4 5 6 7

8

9 10

11

Ayalon, Circassians 144. Broadbridge, Sending Home 3, 18. ʿAbd al-Nabī, al-Zawāj 30, 38, 41. Yosef, Ethnic Groups (2010). I am extremely grateful to Koby Yosef for his comments and suggestions on this paper as well as for the explanations of some key points of his dissertation, as yet unpublished in English. Yosef, Ethnic Groups (2012) 7. The importance of marital ties and the role of in-laws in Mamluk politics were also discussed in Yosef’s recent publications: Yosef, Masters, and idem, Usages. Yosef, Mamluks 63. See, for instance, Ayalon, Circassians, and idem, Mamluk Military; Holt, Succession; Levanoni, Mamluk Conception. For a more comprehensive review of modern publications on the topic, see Van Steenbergen, Caught. Sievert, Der Herrscherwechsel 144, 160.

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regents-turned-sultans mentioned by Sievert were married to women from the previous sultans’ houses.12 The importance of family ties in Mamluk succession has been highlighted more for the Bahri period.13 In particular, matrimonial ties as an aid to socio-political (re)production during the Circassian period were studied in a paper by Kristof D’Hulster and Jo Van Steenbergen. Focusing on the period between 1382 and 1467, they demonstrated the family ties between the sultans from al-Ẓāhir Barqūq (784–91/1382–89; 792–801/1390–99) to al-Ẓāhir Khushqadam (865–72/1461– 67), analyzed women and gender as factors in the political power process, and paid attention to the fact that the “family-in-law impulse” was one of the tools of succession. The paper suggested various avenues for further research, such as expanding the chronology up to the Ottoman conquest and analyzing the matrimonial ties of those amirs who participated in the political race but never reached the throne.14 In this paper I will follow these avenues. The marriages of some of the Circassian sultans to the women of their predecessors’ households will be discussed chronologically to get a deeper insight into the issue and to reveal a number of important patterns that have not been discussed before. I will also highlight the in-law relations between the amirs who struggled for power during the reign of al-Nāṣir Faraj (801–8/1399–1405; 808–15/1405–12), al-Ẓāhir Barqūq’s son, as this is when the issue at stake was whether the Mamluk political elite would follow the path of al-Ẓāhir Barqūq, who had deposed the young heir to the throne, or would opt for the traditional, dynastic pattern of state formation.15 Through various cases, in-law links and family ties “via women” with the sultan’s household will be examined as being among the main prerequisites for power in Mamluk society. To begin with, I shall discuss, mostly chronologically, the marriages that were contracted by some of the Circassian sultans before or after their accession to the throne. It is well known that the Circassian sultans did not create a dynasty in the full sense of the word.16 Most of them tried to hand power to their sons, but the rule of such heirs tended to be nominal and short-lived.17 Those Circassian sul12

13 14 15

16 17

The cases of al-Ẓāhir Barqūq and al-Muʾayyad Shaykh (815–24/1412–21) are examined in the main text; the cases of al-Ẓāhir Ṭaṭar (Shaʿbān–Dhū al-Ḥijja 824/August–November 1421), alAshraf Barsbāy (825–41/1422–38), and al-Ẓāhir Jaqmaq (841–57/1438–53) are mentioned in Appendix 2 along with other sultans’ marriages. The case of al-Ẓāhir Ṭaṭar was mentioned in ʿAbd al-Nabī, al-Zawāj 42. Bauden, The Sons; Van Steenbergen, ‘Is Anyone,’ and idem, Order. D’Hulster and Van Steenbergen, Family Matters. About the dismantling of Sultan al-Ẓāhir Barqūq’s dynastic project (1382–1412) see Broadbridge, Sending Home 3, 10–11; Haarmann, Mamluk System 24; Van Steenbergen, Wing, and D’Hulster, Mamlukization 564. Petry, Civilian Elite 19. See Appendix 1.

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tans who did manage to remain in power generally were not lineal descendants of their predecessors. However, there were in-law ties, or ties “via women,” between almost all of them. The sultans were married to the daughters, former concubines, or widows of the previous sultans. The wives of the sultans could be members of one family.18 What is remarkable in some cases is when and how these ties were established. The case of al-Ẓāhir Barqūq’s marriage is emblematic, for he was the first sultan of the new “dynasty” and was, in a way, adopted as a role model by the Circassians. In 1386, al-Ẓāhir Barqūq married Hājar (d. 833/1429–30), a woman from the family of Sultan al-Ashraf Shaʿbān (764–78/1363–76).19 Her father was Mankalī Bughā al-Shamsī (d. 774/1372) and her mother was either al-Ashraf Shaʿbān’s sister20 or, according to al-Sakhāwī, his daughter.21 The latter is supported by al-Maqrīzī, who contradicts his own earlier evidence when he writes about Hājar’s death, adding that she was the last to die of all al-Ẓāhir Barqūq’s women.22 Most probably, Hājar was a daughter of al-Ashraf Shaʿbān’s sister, because the amir Mankalī Bughā al-Shamsī was married to a sister, not a daughter, of alAshraf Shaʿbān, which is strongly suggested in the reports by both Ibn Taghrībirdī, who was related to al-Ẓāhir Barqūq’s family (through his sister’s marriage), and Ibn Ḥajar.23 It is worth recalling here that al-Ẓāhir Barqūq married Hājar about a year after the arrest of the amir Yalbughā al-Nāṣirī (d. 793/1390)— the event that must have triggered the conflict that eventually led to al-Ẓāhir Barqūq being deposed. The fact of the matter is that both Yalbughā and al-Ẓāhir Barqūq had previously belonged to the same master, but since the former was older, he had already reached the rank of amir of a hundred when the latter’s career was just dawning: a private, al-Ẓāhir Barqūq had to follow Yalbughā’s orders. After alAshraf Shaʿbān’s second son was deposed and al-Ẓāhir Barqūq rose to power, the situation was reversed. In 785/1383 Yalbughā, who was then governor of Aleppo, appeared at the court to pay his respects and obeisance to the new sultan. He knelt down and kissed the ground before al-Ẓāhir Barqūq, who had recently been his subordinate, and dared not be seated in his presence.24 Al-Ẓāhir Barqūq and Yalbughā maintained the status quo for a while, but in 787/1385 al-Ẓāhir Barqūq removed Yalbughā from office and sent him to the Alexandria prison.25 As Ibn Taghrībirdī notes, this arrest was considered unreason18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25

See Appendix 2. ʿAbd al-Nabī, al-Zawāj 27; Garcin, The Regime 290. ʿAbd al-Rāziq, La femme 31. Al-Sakhāwī, al-Ḍawʾ al-lāmiʿ xii, 132. Al-Maqrīzī, al-Sulūk v, 183; vii, 220. Ibn Ḥajar, Inbāʾ al-ghumr i, 54–5; Ibn Taghrībirdī, al-Manhal al-ṣāfī xi, 40, 47; xii, 283–4. Ibn Taghrībirdī, al-Nujūm al-zāhira xi, 190. Al-ʿAynī, al-Sulṭān Barqūq 179.

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able and it marked the beginning of the first phase of the conflict, which ended in 791/1389 with an armed revolt and the overthrow of al-Ẓāhir Barqūq. Early in 788/1386, before his marriage to Hājar, al-Ẓāhir Barqūq was informed of a plot to kill him.26 It can be supposed that in the face of increased threats to his power the sultan tried to strengthen his bonds with the previous dynasty, thus providing additional legitimacy for his reign. Perhaps the most mystifying issue of the “family-in-law impulse” remains the disruption of the line connecting all the Circassian sultans via women of varying status in their families, between al-Manṣūr ʿUthmān, al-Ẓāhir Jaqmaq’s son, and al-Ashraf Īnāl (857–65/1453–61). Kristof D’Hulster and Jo Van Steenbergen justly suppose that it may be rooted both in the very marriage of al-Ashraf Īnāl to Zaynab, a strong-willed woman of great ambition, power, and influence, whom he had married over thirty years before his sultanate, and likewise in the intrinsic trend toward the transformation of the royal household from a polygamous to a monogamous institution.27 To that, another possible reason can be added. As was convincingly demonstrated by Ulrich Haarmann, the period of the Circassian sultans saw a rise in negative sentiment among the local population toward everything Turkic or non-Arab, which had been present as early as the Ayyubid period. Now it grew again as a result of increasing domination of the Turkic guard. The Mamluks no longer proved themselves as defenders of Muslims through military victories, and political instability and economic crisis aggravated the situation. The transition of power from the Bahri to the Burji (Circassian) “dynasty” went hand in hand with dramatic changes in Mamluk culture. Al-Ẓāhir Barqūq and the following rulers were much more religiously and culturally active than their predecessors. They not only stood out as sponsors and patrons, but were also literary authors and adherents of religious movements. The Mamluks aspired to distance themselves from the pagan past and to show that they belonged to the Arab-Muslim culture. The awlād al-nās served as a cultural link between the Mamluks and the local population, and were the only non-Mamluk group to enjoy full access to the Mamluk world, which was otherwise a closed community.28 So, the Mamluk sultans realized that a rapprochement with the local population, at least in terms of religion and culture, was essential to reinforce their supreme authority. This may have been reflected in the fact that high-ranking amirs married women from ulama families. Al-Ẓāhir Jaqmaq was married to Mughul, daughter of the judge Nāṣir al-Dīn ibn al-Bārizī, who concurrently held the positions of main judge in Hama and kātib al-sirr of its governor.29 The family 26 27 28 29

Ibn Taghrībirdī, al-Nujūm al-zāhira xi, 199. D’Hulster and Van Steenbergen, Family Matters 71. Haarmann, Arabic in Speech 89–90, 103, 105. Al-Sakhāwī, al-Ḍawʾ al-lāmiʿ xii, 27; Ibn Iyās, Badāʾiʿ al-zuhūr iii, 67, 85; Ibn Taghrībirdī,

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background of Zaynab, al-Ashraf Īnāl’s wife, is even more interesting. Her father, Ḥasan ibn Badr al-Dīn ibn Khāṣṣbak (d. 813/1410–11), was a mamluk’s descendant. He was a high ranking amir who was knowledgeable in fiqh, mastered the Arabic language, and was entitled to issue fatwas and to teach. He was one of those who taught Mamluk amirs, and none other than al-Maqrīzī listened to his interpretation of the hadith. According to al-Sakhāwī and al-Maqrīzī, Badr al-Dīn was a distinguished representative of the awlād al-nās, the social group that linked the foreign military and political elite with the indigenous populace of Mamluk Egypt.30 As has been rightly pointed out by D’Hulster and Van Steenbergen, Zaynab was not related to any Circassian sultan,31 but her marriage to al-Ashraf Īnāl does not qualify as an exception to the paradigm of continuity between the Mamluk sultans that incorporates both biological and matrimonial ties. Moreover, it may have carried even more importance in enhancing the power and legitimacy of al-Ashraf Īnāl as sultan in two ways. First, her father’s occupation was a clear example of the cultural rapprochement between the Mamluks and the local ArabMuslim elite of the ulama, which was of utmost significance for the Circassian sultans in the mid-fifteenth century as they were rapidly losing their reputation as defenders of Islam, especially in contrast to the impressive Ottoman victories. Second, Zaynab did happen to belong to a Mamluk sultan’s family, and not just a Circassian sultan but Sultan al-Ẓāhir Baybars I (658–76/1260–77), a true architect of the Mamluk splendor, to whom al-Ẓāhir Barqūq, the founder of the Circassian “dynasty,” took pleasure in comparing himself. According to Ibn Ḥajar, Zaynab’s father was a descendant of al-Ẓāhir Baybars, notably via female lineage.32 When al-Ashraf Īnāl, the future sultan, was appointed atābak of the army, he outflanked three amirs who were more entitled to this promotion by virtue of both their positions and their merits. They were amīr silāḥ, amīr majlis, and amīr ākhūr, and all three of them were mamluks of al-Ẓāhir Barqūq and veterans. AlAshraf Īnāl was dawādār.33 His marriage to al-Ẓāhir Baybars’ kinswoman, a daughter of an honorable faqīh from among the awlād al-nās, was not the key driver of his appointment34 but it certainly should not be ignored as a factor. The big “wedding season” opened in the last year of the rule of al-Ashraf Qāytbāy’s son al-Nāṣir Muḥammad (r. 901–2/1496–97; 902–4/1497–98). In Jumādá I 903/December 1497–January 1498, Ṭūmānbāy (r. Jumādá II–Ramaḍān

30 31 32 33 34

Nujūm al-zāhira xv, 200; xvi, 285. Al-Sakhāwī, al-Ḍawʾ al-lāmiʿ iii, 100. D’Hulster and Van Steenbergen, Family Matters 71. Ibn Ḥajar, Inbāʾ al-ghumr ii, 475–6. Ibn Taghrībirdī, al-Nujūm al-zāhira xv, 125. Ayalon, Circassians 144.

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906/January–April 1501), who was then al-dawādār al-thānī, married Ḥabība (d. 906/1500), daughter of Sultan al-Manṣūr ʿUthmān ibn Jaqmaq (r. Muḥarram– Rabīʿ I 857/February–March 1453). According to Ibn Iyās, Ṭūmānbāy was scheming the removal of the current ruler, al-Nāṣir Muḥammad, so this marriage, which made him a relative of al-Ẓāhir Jaqmaq—and indirectly of al-Ẓāhir Barqūq and alẒāhir Baybars—must have been intended to serve as another step on the ladder to the throne.35 Meanwhile, in Ṣafar 904/September–October 1498, al-Nāṣir Muḥammad married Miṣrbāy, daughter of the amir Kurtubāy (d. 902/1497), who was a brother of the amir Aqbirdī (d. 904/1499), who was married to a sister of Fāṭima (d. 909/1504), whose husband was Sultan al-Ashraf Qāytbāy (r. 872–901/1468–96).36 It is unlikely that al-Nāṣir Muḥammad’s intention was to enhance his ties to his own father. If it was a political marriage, it would be fair to assume it was an attempt by Aqbirdī to ensure stronger bonds with al-Ashraf Qāytbāy’s family and, possibly, to gain influence over the 17-year-old sultan, al-Nāṣir Muḥammad. Aqbirdī and Qānṣūh—al-Nāṣir Muḥammad’s maternal uncle—vied for political leadership, their rivalry resulting in open warfare in the streets of the capital city in Dhū al-Ḥijja 902/August 1497, when Aqbirdī led the 31-day siege of the Citadel, was eventually defeated, and had to leave Cairo for Syria. It is not improbable that he viewed the marriage of his niece to Sultan al-Nāṣir Muḥammad as a way to improve his position, which had been weakened by his struggle with Qānṣūh. Further, after his return from Syria to Cairo, two more weddings produced new potential rivals for Aqbirdī: Ṭūmānbāy, whose marriage to Sultan alManṣūr ʿUthmān’s daughter has been mentioned earlier, and Amir Qānībāy Qarā (d. 921/1515). Qānībāy Qarā married (before the end of 903/1497–98) a daughter of the amir Yashbak—the very Yashbak who was married to al-Ashraf Īnāl’s granddaughter, was suspected of killing Jānim al-Sharīfī, and led a plot against Yalbāy. Yashbak’s daughter, Qānībāy Qarā’s new wife, had been married before. Her previous husband, Kurtubāy, son of al-Ashraf Qāytbāy’s aunt, had died in August of the same year in a street confrontation between Aqbirdī’ s and Qānṣūh’s mamluks in Cairo. Al-Nāṣir Muḥammad’s marriage to Miṣrbāy, Aqbirdī’s niece, caused a falling-out between the sultan and his mother and irrevocably soured his relations with his uncle, Qānṣūh. Qānṣūh did not even turn up at the Prophet’s Birthday celebration hosted by the sultan. 37 The political struggle between Aqbirdī and Qānṣūh was joined by the amir Ṭūmānbāy. On 15 Rabīʿ I 904/31 October 1498 he saw an opportunity to fulfill his 35 36 37

See Appendix 2; Ibn Iyās, Badāʾiʿ al-zuhūr iii, 387. Ibn Iyās, Badāʾiʿ al-zuhūr iii, 389, 393. Ibid., iii, 355–62, 374, 385.

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long-planned plot against al-Nāṣir Muḥammad. Ṭūmānbāy met the young sultan when the latter was returning to Cairo, accompanied by only a small retinue, from a three-day picnic celebrating the Prophet’s Birthday. Ṭūmānbāy cordially offered the sultan, who did not wish to dismount from his horse and interrupt the journey, some delicious curdled milk. While the sultan enjoyed it, with a spoon in one hand and a bowl in the other, Ṭūmānbāy held his horse by the bridle. At Ṭūmānbāy’s sign, his mamluks attacked and murdered al-Nāṣir Muḥammad. Ṭūmānbāy thought it not yet time to claim the throne, and a stronger claimant—Qānṣūh— became sultan. Several years later, in Dhū al-Qaʿda 904/summer 1499, the news of Aqbirdī’s death reached the capital. In Ṣafar 905/early autumn 1499), his remains were delivered to Cairo and reburied in his own tomb. The following month Sultan al-Ẓāhir Qānṣūh (r. 904–5/1498–1500) married Miṣrbāy, al-Nāṣir Muḥammad’s widow and Aqbirdī’s niece. It is difficult to say whether this was a marriage for political reasons. Al-Ẓāhir Qānṣūh was already married: a few days before his wedding to Miṣrbāy, his wife Jānkildī gave birth to a boy, which was an occasion for festive celebrations, and Jānkildī was honored in every way.38 Leaving aside possible speculation as to the emotional aspects of al-Ẓāhir Qānṣūh’s relationship with Miṣrbāy, let us consider the benefits of this marriage in terms of the sultan’s authority. First, it strengthened the bond between al-Ẓāhir Qānṣūh and the family of al-Ashraf Qāytbāy and his son. In addition, by marrying Miṣrbāy, al-Ẓāhir Qānṣūh gave protection to an orphan (her father had died before al-Ẓāhir Qānṣūh ascended to the throne) and the widow of his patron’s son (al-Ẓāhir Qānṣūh was a mamluk of al-Ashraf Qāytbāy), in complete accordance with Muslim ethics and Mamluk customs. Finally, the Mamluk environment (including former followers and mamluks of Aqbirdī) could view this marriage as a symbolic end to the longstanding rivalry between al-Ẓāhir Qānṣūh and Aqbirdī, and as an expression of the sultan’s good will towards the family of his late political adversary. Another wedding ceremony, this time celebrated with great magnificence, took place in Cairo in Jumādá II–Rajab 905/January–February 1500: Jānbulāṭ married Aṣlbāy (d. 915/1509), who was al-Ashraf Qāytbāy’s concubine, al-Nāṣir Muḥammad’s mother, and al-Ẓāhir Qānṣūh’s sister. For now, though, let us return to the life of the amir Ṭūmānbāy, who opened the “wedding season” in the winter of 903/1497–98. Immediately upon alẒāhir Qānṣūh’s enthronement, Ṭūmānbāy was promoted to al-dawādār al-kabīr. Within but a few days he was appointed as wazīr and ustādār, while also keeping his previous position. Ṭūmānbāy was persistent in his climb to the throne and was scheming to depose al-Ẓāhir Qānṣūh. In late Dhū al-Qaʿda 905 /June 1500 he incited a mutiny. Preparing to defend the Citadel, Sultan al-Ẓāhir Qānṣūh initiated 38

Ibid. iii, 392–5, 416–7.

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a series of arrests. Those seized and clapped in irons included, among others, the amir Qānībāy Qarā, whose marriage was mentioned above. The mamluks, however, took Ṭūmānbāy’s side and resolved to depose al-Ẓāhir Qānṣūh. Yet Ṭūmānbāy again chose not to claim supreme power, as now atābak Jānbulāṭ stood a much better chance of success.39 It is interesting to note that, having played a crucial role in removing alNāṣir Muḥammad and deposing al-Ẓāhir Qānṣūh, Ṭūmānbāy had twice given way to amirs with ties to al-Ashraf Qāytbāy’s family. As for Ṭūmānbāy himself, he was married to a granddaughter of al-Ẓāhir Jaqmaq, whose rule had ended half a century before al-Ashraf Qāytbāy’s death opened the gates to the aggressive struggle for political power. Clearly, the marital status of the claimants was neither the sole nor the main factor in the amirs’ decision as to who would ascend to the throne. However, a tie—especially a marriage tie—to the sultan’s household, to which many influential mamluks belonged, was also taken into account. In any case, when Ṭūmānbāy finally came to power in Jumādá II 906/January 1501, he was not slow to marry Fāṭima (d. 909/1504), al-Ashraf Qāytbāy’s widow, in the very same month.40 In summary, three years saw five marriages between men who were or would soon be sultans and women from the sultan’s family. These examples provide a positive answer to the question posed by D’Hulster and Van Steenbergen, of whether marriages to women of the sultan’s kin could be viewed as preparatory maneuvers by amirs who intended to pursue political goals.41 Now let us take a look at some amirs’ in-law links and family ties “via women” with sultans’ households in order to see their role in the politics of the Circassian sultanate. The first, rather glaring, example takes us back to the short period of al-Manṣūr Ḥājjī’s rule in 791/1389, when al-Ẓāhir Barqūq had to leave the throne and flee from the capital. The course of events was as follows. When alẒāhir Barqūq was overthrown in a revolt led by the above-mentioned Yalbughā and al-Manṣūr Ḥājjī was proclaimed sultan, Cairo became the scene of a severe struggle between Yalbughā and the amir Minṭāsh (d. 795/1393), one of his former allies. In a bloody battle the victory was won by Minṭāsh. Yalbughā al-Nāṣirī was soon seized, clapped in irons, and sent to prison. Having wrested control of the capital, Minṭāsh was quick, decisive, and cruel. Disobedience, either by mamluks or by civilians, was immediately punished. He announced that any citizen with a sword, knife, or other weapon would be penalized. On the very first day, six people had their hands cut off. After news arrived from Karak that al-Ẓāhir Barqūq had managed to escape, Minṭāsh, in a desperate attempt to secure his position, 39 40 41

Ibid. iii, 418–9, 423–4, 426–7. Petry, Protectors 201; idem, Estate 278–89. D’Hulster and Van Steenbergen, Family Matters 78.

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began ordering arrests and executions, as well as patents. At that very time he married Sultan al-Manṣūr Ḥājjī’s sister in a spectacular wedding. The chronology of the events follows: the battle between Yalbughā and Minṭāsh took place on 17 Shaʿbān 791/11 August 1389; al-Ẓāhir Barqūq was freed on 10 Ramaḍān 791/2 September 1389; and the wedding happened on 12 Shawwāl 791/4 October 4 1389.42 There can be little doubt that this marriage was purely political. Minṭāsh must have decided to marry into the sultan’s family as soon as he received the unsettling news from Karak and realized that al-Ẓāhir Barqūq, who was gathering his followers in Syria, now posed a serious threat. Under Qalāwūnid rule, marital ties to the sultan gave Mamluk amirs a means to claim higher positions in the political elite. Not infrequently, such amirs acted as regents for underage heirs or manipulated young, inexperienced rulers.43 Amir Arghūn al-ʿAlāʾī, for instance, was married to Sultan al-Ṣāliḥ Ismāʿīl’s (r. 743–46/1342–45) mother. When al-Ṣāliḥ Ismāʿīl died, Arghūn put another son of his wife, al-Kāmil Shaʿbān (r. 746–47/1345–46), on the throne. During the reign of both al-Ṣāliḥ Ismāʿīl and al-Kāmil Shaʿbān, Arghūn held the reins of government.44 Al-Nāṣir Faraj, al-Ẓāhir Barqūq’s son, was proclaimed sultan at quite an early age—he was only eleven—so his family’s involvement in government issues is understandable. Meanwhile, it is at this time that the patterns of interaction and confrontation between the sultan’s family members and other court factions took shape—patterns that would continue to dominate the political scene in the Circassian Sultanate.45 It was a time of much tension about what mode of power succession would be adopted by the Circassians. Would they adhere to the Qalāwūnid pattern of power transition to the sons and grandsons of the dynasty founder? Or would they follow the path of al-Ẓāhir Baybars and al-Ẓāhir Barqūq, who ascended to the throne by the right of the strongest? What would be the role of the heir’s relatives? Would they support him, keep him as a puppet, or try to depose him? Briefly discussing the general activities of the sultan’s family members during these events will demonstrate the results of the participation of the sultan’s inlaws in the political struggle that began with al-Nāṣir Faraj’s rise to power. In accordance with al-Ẓāhir Barqūq’s will, al-Nāṣir Faraj’s guardians were atābak Aytamish (d. 802/1399), amīr silāḥ Taghrībirdī (d. 815/1412, the brother of al-Nāṣir Faraj’s mother), and the amir Baybars (d. 811/1408–9, al-Ẓāhir Barqūq’s nephew, his sister’s son).46 In 802/1399, Aytamish, who had been supported 42

43 44 45

46

Al-Ṣayrafī, Nuzhat al-nufūs i, 361; Ibn al-Furāt, Tārīkh ix/1, 120–4, 162; Ibn Taghrībirdī, alNujūm al-zāhira xi, 287–92. For analysis of this issue see Van Steenbergen, ‘Is anyone.’ Levanoni, Turning Point 186. On al-Ẓāhir Barqūq’s enthusiasm to reconnect with his biological family and to nominate his next of kin for key posts, see Broadbridge, Sending Home 11–2. Al-Maqrīzī, al-Sulūk vi, 140–95; Ibn Taghrībirdī, al-Nujūm al-zāhira xiv, 88.

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mainly by the Mamluk veterans, was killed in a battle with al-Nāṣir Faraj’s young guardsmen. Al-Nāṣir Faraj, meanwhile, increasingly spent time in the house of his brother-in-law, the amir Īnālbāy (d. 809/1407). He was also under the strong influence of Baybars, al-Ẓāhir Barqūq’s nephew. Having noticed the sultan’s favorable disposition toward his family members, the young guardsmen who had defeated the Mamluk veterans made a point of deposing Īnālbāy.47 It is not necessary to dwell on the twists and turns of this conflict. What matters is that the underlying principle for the formation of one of the political groups was neither affiliation to the household of the same amir, nor service in the same regiment, nor a shared ethnic origin, all of which had often facilitated consolidation for the Mamluks, but family—blood or marriage—ties to the sultan. Eventually, it was this “faction of relatives” that was effective in manipulating al-Nāṣir Faraj and briefly had the upper hand. Later on, the conflict between the Circassian and Greek relatives of the sultan developed into a full-blown political struggle. As a result, al-Nāṣir Faraj was overthrown, while the amirs who were not related to the sultan won a new opportunity to join the political elite of the capital and compete for power. The leaders of the “faction of relatives” had a peculiar fate. Within the first two years after al-Nāṣir Faraj retook the throne—between 808/1405 and 810/1407—the amirs found themselves in opposition to the sultan and were eliminated. Baybars was arrested and sent to the Alexandria prison in the autumn of 808/1405; later he was murdered.48 Amir Qānibāy (d. 815/1412–13), son of alẒāhir Barqūq’s other sister, was thrown in prison in Alexandria on the sultan’s order in 814/1411 and was killed the following year.49 The “faction of relatives” included both blood relatives and in-laws. Īnālbāy was killed in a battle with the amir Shaykh (d. 824/1421) in 809/1407. Al-Nāṣir Faraj had Sūdūn al-Ḥamzāwī (d. 810/1407), another of his brothers-in-law, seized, sentenced by Cairo’s four main judges, and executed in 810/1407.50 Another in-law of al-Nāṣir Faraj, the amir Yashbak ibn Azdamir (d. 817/1414), was killed at about the same time; he, like alNāṣir Faraj, had been married to a daughter of Amir Taghrībirdī.51 Of all the amirs wed to women of the sultan’s family, the only one left to enter the final stretch of the race to the throne was Amir Nawrūz al-Ḥāfiẓī (d. 817/1414). But he, too, failed to outmaneuver Amir Shaykh, who, after a brief transition period with the power 47

48 49

50

51

Al-Sakhāwī, al-Ḍawʾ al-lāmiʿ iii, 278–9; Ibn Taghrībirdī, al-Manhal al-ṣāfī iii, 143–50; idem, al-Nujūm al-zāhira xii, 255–8. Al-Maqrīzī, al-Sulūk v, 150, 425; Ibn Ḥajar, Inbāʾ al-ghumr ii, 405. Al-Maqrīzī, al-Sulūk vi, 289; al-Sakhāwī, al-Ḍawʾ al-lāmiʿ vi, 196; xii, 116; Ibn Taghrībirdī, al-Manhal al-ṣāfī ix, 25. Sūdūn’s marriage to Zaynab, al-Nāṣir Faraj’s sister, was contracted in 805/1403 when she was but eight years old. It was then that the “faction of relatives” was rising to power, and Sūdūn must have hurried to take the only remaining vacancy (al-Maqrīzī, al-Sulūk vi, 453; Ibn Ḥajar, Inbāʾ al-ghumr iii, 315; Ibn Taghrībirdī, al-Nujūm al-zāhira xiv, 23, 105). Al-Sakhāwī, al-Ḍawʾ al-lāmiʿ x, 270.

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nominally in the hands of the caliph al-Mustaʿīn (808–15/1406–14), became the next Circassian sultan. With his position in Cairo enhanced, al-Muʾayyad Shaykh disposed of Nawrūz.52 Thus, the first two decades of the fifteenth century saw a new trend: those amirs who had marriage ties to the sultan’s family could make strong political allies, yet at the same time they were seen as potential rivals. In other words, they posed a possible challenge to the ruling sultan. Appendix 3 offers some brief information on the sultans’ in-laws who pursued ambitions to win the throne or were at least so politically active that the rulers tended to view them as a threat to their own positions. All these amirs were subjected to penalties such as arrest, exile, or execution. Apparently, the significance of marriage ties to the sultan’s family rose when the sultan was weak, the Mamluks did not have a recognized leader, and several amirs claimed political power at the same time. Such was the case, for example, during the period of confusion before al-Ashraf Qāytbāy took the reins of power. This period saw a conflict between the Abkhazian Mamluks and the Circassian Mamluks united under the leadership of Amir Kasbāy al-Khushqadamī (d. 881/1477), who had, in his day, married Fāṭima (d. 872/1467), daughter of Sultan al-Ashraf Īnāl, and was brother to al-Ẓāhir Tamurbughā’s wife.53 Al-Ẓāhir Tamurbughā was overthrown in a revolt led by amir Khayrbak al-Ẓāhirī (d. 879/1474), whose destiny is particularly interesting. A year before these events, he married a grandniece of Mughul (d. 876/1472), al-Ẓāhir Jaqmaq’s wife. He then quickly climbed the career ladder, and after al-Ẓāhir Khushqadam’s (r. 865–72/1461-–67) death, with al-Ẓāhir Yalbāy being totally inept at governing a state, Khayrbak was the one who in fact conducted state affairs.54 Having had the next sultan, al-Ẓāhir Tamurbughā, seized on the evening of 5 Rajab 872/30 January 1468, he occupied the throne and proclaimed himself sultan. Al-Ashraf Qāytbāy, however, had more people on his side, and Khayrbak was thrown into jail the next day. Al-Ashraf Qāytbāy had Kasbāy arrested too, and later exiled him to Aleppo as a dangerous political rival.55 The truth is that not all amirs with marriage ties to the sultan’s family had ambitions for supreme power. Some amirs from among the sultans’ in-laws were not arrested, exiled, or executed. Such relatively “serene” careers suggest that these amirs were not considered threats by the ruling sultan and did not plan violent coups or take part in political conspiracies.

52 53

54 55

Ibn Taghrībirdī, al-Nujūm al-zāhira xii, 231; xiii, 159, 250; Levanoni, The Mamlūks 264. Al-Sakhāwī, al-Ḍawʾ al-lāmiʿ xii, 90; Ibn Iyās, Badāʾiʿ al-zuhūr iii, 18; Ibn Taghrībirdī, alNujūm al-zāhira xvi, 220, 346. Levanoni, Rank-and-File Mamluks 30. Al-Sakhāwī, al-Ḍawʾ al-lāmiʿ iii, 209; Ibn Iyās, Badāʾiʿ al-zuhūr iii, 4, 50, 93, 237.

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For instance, Qujuq al-ʿĪsāwī (d. 829/1425), the third and last husband of Zaynab (d. 826/1423), a daughter of al-Ẓāhir Barqūq and al-Muʾayyad Shaykh’s widow, had a rapid career: he rose to the ranks of amir of a hundred and commander of a thousand, and in 827/1424, under al-Ashraf Barsbāy, was appointed atābak, which was only one step away from the throne. Nevertheless, Qujuq alʿĪsāwī did not make any attempts to seize power. Another example is an event that took place under al-Muʾayyad Shaykh. Al-Muʾayyad Shaykh must have planned to pass power to his son Ibrāhīm,56 a young but adult man, a brave amir, who had gained respect and honor by making considerable conquests in Asia Minor. However, Ibrāhīm died in Jumādá II 823/ June–July 1420. All of al-Muʾayyad Shaykh’s other sons were still too young. The sultan himself was already very sick and probably realized that he had no chance to see them grow up. Two months after Ibrāhīm’s death, in Shaʿbān 823/August 1420, al-Muʾayyad Shaykh married off his daughter Sutayta to atābak Alṭunbughā al-Qurmushī.57 In his last will, the sultan instructed that Alṭunbughā was to rule the sultanate as regent until al-Muʾayyad Shaykh’s son Aḥmad reached the age of consent. Alṭunbughā al-Qurmushī followed al-Muʾayyad Shaykh’s will and guarded Aḥmad’s interests as long as it was in his control.58 In some cases, the amirs who were lucky enough to have spouses from among the sultan’s relatives simply had no chance to use the political influence they had acquired, at least in part, through marriage. Thus, for instance, al-Ḥasan (d. 825/1422), brother of al-Ẓāhir Ṭaṭar’s wife, had a sweeping career under alẒāhir Ṭaṭar’s son, but hardly had he reached the top of the political ladder when he suddenly died.59 A similar episode took place with Jānim al-Sharīfī (d. 884/1479), al-Ashraf Qāytbāy’s (872–901/1468–96) relative through the female line. He married al-Ashraf Qāytbāy’s wife’s sister and, while a very young man, enjoyed a meteoric career—literally a matter of a few months—but died suddenly before he was twenty. Rumor had it that he had been poisoned by the amir Yashbak (d. 885/1480). Yashbak gained incredible influence under Sultan al-Ashraf Qāytbāy,60 and enhanced his position by marrying a granddaughter of Sultan al-Ashraf Īnāl (857–65/1453–61).61 Even before al-Ashraf Qāytbāy’s accession to power, the

56 57 58 59 60 61

About “the dynastic impulse” in al-Muʾayyad’s actions see Broadbridge, Sending Home 2. ʿAbd al-Rāziq, La femme 127. Al-Maqrīzī, al-Sulūk vii, 12–6; Ibn Taghrībirdī, al-Nujūm al-zāhira xiv, 13–7, 73. Al-Maqrīzī, al-Sulūk vii, 70–1. Petry, Protectors 15. ʿAbd al-Rāziq, La femme 276.

M. ILIUSHINA

30

very same amir Yashbak was involved in a scheme against Sultan al-Ẓāhir Yalbāy (Rabīʿ I–Jumādá I 872/October–December 1467).62 Yashbak was killed in 1480.63 Conclusions Women played a specific role in the shaping of Mamluk political culture during the Circassian period. As a link between the sultans and their predecessors through marital ties, they played a passive yet necessary role in the system of succession and the formation of the Burji pseudodynasty. A marital tie to a female relative of the sultan was an important factor in political rivalry, together with belonging to this or that Mamluk faction, which became crucial in the years of political instability and confusion. Sultans’ in-laws were among the main contenders for the throne. Almost all the Circassian sultans (except sultans’ sons) were related to one another or to their predecessors by marital ties.64 Marrying a former concubine, an ex-wife, a widow, a sister, or a daughter of a sultan served as a vehicle to reinforce either the political prestige of contenders for the throne or the legitimacy of those who occupied it. In Mamluk society, marriage to a woman from the sultan’s family provided a solid basis for a claim to supreme power, which, in turn, defined the special status of the concubines, daughters, and wives of the Circassian sultans.

62 63 64

Ibn Taghrībirdī, al-Nujūm al-zāhira xvi, 329. Ibn Iyās, Badāʾiʿ al-zuhūr iii, 20, 26–7, 35, 57, 146, 168. Except al-Ẓāhir Yalbāy, during whose two-month rule the reins of true power were in the hands of the amir Khayrbak, whose wife came from the same family as Mughul, the wife of al-Ẓāhir Jaqmaq (see Appendix 3). Al-Ashraf Qānṣūh al-Ghawrī (906–22/1501–16) was related to his predecessors only through his nephew, Ṭūmānbāy (see Appendix 2).

CONCUBINES, DAUGHTERS, AND WIVES

31

Appendix 1 Fathers al-Ẓāhir Barqūq (r. 784–91; 792–801/1382–89; 1390– 99)

al-Muʾayyad Shaykh (r. 815–24/1412–21) al-Ẓāhir Ṭaṭar (r. 29 Shaʿbān–4 Dhū al-Ḥijja 824/29 August–30 November 1421) al-Ashraf Barsbāy (r. 825–41/1422–38) al-Ẓāhir Jaqmaq (r. 841–57/1438–53) al-Ashraf Īnāl (r. 857–65/1453–61) al-Ashraf Qāytbāy (r. 872–901/1468–96)

Sons al-Nāṣir Faraj (r. 15 Shawwāl 801–25 Rabīʿ I 808/20 June 1399–20 September 1405; 5 Jumādá II 808–25 Muḥarram 815/28 November 1405– 7 May 1412) al-Manṣūr ʿAbd al-ʿAzīz (r. 26 Rabīʿ I–5 Jumādá II 808/ 21 September–28 November 1405) al-Muẓaffar Aḥmad (r. 9 Muḥarram–29 Shaʿbān 824/ 14 January–29 August 1421) al-Ṣāliḥ Muḥammad (r. 4 Dhū al-Ḥijja 824–8 Rabīʿ II 825/30 November 1421–1 April 1422) al-ʿAzīz Yūsuf (r. 13 Dhū al-Ḥijja 841–19 Rabīʿ I 842/7 June–9 September 1438) al-Manṣūr ʿUthmān (r. 21 Muḥarram–5 Rabīʿ I 857/1 February–16 March 1453) al-Muʾayyad Aḥmad (r. 14 Jumādá I–19 Ramaḍān 865/25 February–28 June 1461) al-Nāṣir Muḥammad (r. 26 Dhū al-Qaʿda 901–28 Jumādá I 902/6 August–1 February 1497; 1 Jumādá II 902–15 Rabīʿ I 904/4 February 1497–31 October 1498)

M. ILIUSHINA

32

Appendix 2 Sultan al-Ẓāhir Barqūq

Period of rule 784–91; 792– 801/1382–89; 1390–99

al-Muʾayyad Shaykh

815–24/1412–21

al-Ẓāhir Ṭaṭar

29 Shaʿbān–4 Dhū al-Ḥijja 824/29 August– 30 November 1421

al-Ashraf Barsbāy

825–41/1422–38

al-Ẓāhir Jaqmaq

841–57/1438–53

al-Ashraf Īnāl

857–65/1453–61

al-Muʾayyad 14 Jumādá I–19 Aḥmad ibn Īnāl Ramaḍān 865/25 February–28 June 1461 al-Ẓāhir 865–72/1461–67 Khushqadam

Marriage married Hājar (d. 833/1429–30), daughter of Sārra, al-Ashraf Shaʿbān’s (764–78/1363–76) sister, in 788/1386

Sources al-Maqrīzī, Sulūk, 5:183; al-Sakhāwī, Ḍawʾ, 12:132; Ibn Ḥajar, Inbāʾ, 1:54–55; Ibn Iyās, Badāʾiʿ, 4:368; Ibn Taghrībirdī, Manhal, 11:40, 12:283–84 married Zaynab (d. 826/1423), al-Maqrīzī, Sulūk, 6:453; al-Ẓāhir Barqūq’s daughter, Ibn Ḥajar, Inbāʾ, 3:315; between 810/1407 and 820/1417 Ibn Taghrībirdī, Nujūm, 14:23 married Saʿādāt (d. 833/1429– Ibn Taghrībirdī, Nujūm, 30), al-Muʾayyad Shaykh’s 14:26–27 widow, al-Muẓaffar Aḥmad’s mother, between 16 Jumādá I and 8 Jumādá II 824/19 May and 10 June 1421 married Fāṭima (d. 874/1464), al- al-Maqrīzī, Sulūk, 7:317; Ẓāhir Ṭaṭar’s daughter, between al-Sakhāwī, Ḍawʾ, 12:92; Ibn Iyās, Badāʾiʿ, 3:36; 9 Muḥarram 824/14 January 1421 and 4 Dhū al-Ḥijja 824/30 Ibn Taghrībirdī, Nujūm, November 1421 14:52–53. (1) married Zaynab (d. al-Sakhāwī, Ḍawʾ, 864/1460), great-granddaughter 12:40–41; Ibn of al-Ẓāhir Barqūq’s sister Taghrībirdī, Nujūm, Qānqiz, at the beginning of his 16:185–86 reign; (2) married Shāhzāda (d. al-Sakhāwī, Ḍawʾ, 12:37; 859/1455), al-Ashraf Barsbāy’s Ibn Taghrībirdī, Nujūm, widow (divorced after 853/1449) 15:204 married Zaynab (d. 884/1479), al-Sakhāwī, Ḍawʾ, 3:100, al-Ashraf Baybars’ (658– 12:45; Ibn Ḥajar, Inbāʾ, 76/1260–77) relative 2:475–76; Ibn Iyās, Badāʾiʿ, 3:152 Married Bint Sulaymān bint al-Sakhāwī, Ḍawʾ, Dulghādir (d. 864/1460), al12:163 Ẓāhir Jaqmaq’s widow, between 857/1453 and 865/1461 married Shukrbāy (d. 870/1465– al-Sakhāwī, Ḍawʾ, 66), al-Nāṣir Faraj’s concubine, 12:68–69; Ibn before 865/1461 Taghrībirdī, Nujūm, 16:238, 240, 243–44

CONCUBINES, DAUGHTERS, AND WIVES

Sultan al-Nāṣir Tamurbughā

al-Ashraf Qāytbāy

Period of rule 7 Jumādá I–5 Rajab 872/4 December 1467– 30 January 1468 872–901/1468– 96

Marriage married Kasbāy’s sister; Kasbāy was married to Fāṭima, alAshraf Īnāl’s daughter (after the death of Yūnis, her first husband) had a marital tie to al-Ashraf Īnāl’s family (the marriage took

33 Sources Ibn Iyās, Badāʾiʿ, 3:18; Ibn Taghrībirdī, Nujūm, 16:346 Ibn Taghrībirdī, Nujūm, 16:221

place before 872/1468)65 al-Ashraf Qānṣūh Khamsumiʾa al-Ẓāhir Qānṣūh

al-Ashraf Jānbulāṭ

al-ʿĀdil Ṭūmānbāy

al-Ashraf Ṭūmānbāy

65

28 Jumādá I–1 Jumādá II 902/1– 4 February 1497 17 Rabīʿ I 904– 29 Dhū al-Qaʿda 905/2 November 1498–26 June 1500 2 Dhū al-Ḥijja 905–18 Jumādá II 906/29 June 1500–9 January 1501 18 Jumādá II–30 Ramaḍān 906/9 January–19 April 1501

married al-Ẓāhir Jaqmaq’s Ibn Iyās, Badāʾiʿ, 3:235– granddaughter (d. 897/1492) in 36, 281 892/1487 married Miṣrbāy, al-Nāṣir Ibn Iyās, Badāʾiʿ, 3:417 Muḥammad’s widow, in Rabīʿ I 905/October–November 1499

married Aṣlbāy (d. 915/1509), alAshraf Qāytbāy’s concubine, al-Nāṣir Muḥammad’s mother, al-Ẓāhir Qānṣūh’s sister, on 8 Jumādá II 905/10 January 1500 (1) married Ḥabība (d. Rabīʿ I 906/September–October, 1500), al-Manṣūr ʿUthmān’s daughter, in 903/497–98; (2) married Fāṭima (d. 909/1504), al-Ashraf Qāytbāy’s widow, on 10 Rajab 906/30 January 1501 922–23/1516–17 married Bint Aqbirdī, a niece of al-Ashraf Qāytbāy’s wife, in 912/1506

Ibn Iyās, Badāʾiʿ, 3:418, 4:159

Ibn Iyās, Badāʾiʿ, 3:376, 439–40

Ibn Iyās, Badāʾiʿ, 3:460, 4:64 Ibn Iyās, Badāʾiʿ, 4:100, 107

Ibn Taghrībirdī mentioned that al-Ashraf Qāytbāy was al-Muʾayyad Aḥmad ibn Īnāl’s in-law. D’Hulster and Van Steenbergen state that al-Ashraf Qāytbāy was married to a daughter of alAshraf Īnāl (D’Hulster and Van Steenbergen, Family Matters 78). Albrecht Fuess states that alAshraf Qāytbāy was married to a sister of Zaynab, the wife of al-Ashraf Īnāl (Fuess, How to marry).

M. ILIUSHINA

34

Appendix 3 Amir Minṭāsh (d. 795/1393)

Nawrūz al-Ḥāfiẓī (d. 817/1414)

Relation to sultan’s family married al-Ashraf Shaʿbān’s ( r. 764– 78/1363–76) daughter in 791/1389

Īnālbāy (d. 809/1407)

(1) married a daughter (d. 1399) of Shihāb al-Dīn Aḥmad al-Ṭūlūnī who was al-Ẓāhir Barqūq’s exwife; (2) married Sārra, al-Ẓāhir Barqūq’s daughter married Bayram, al-Ẓāhir Barqūq’s daughter

Asanbughā alZardkāsh (d. 818/1415)

married Bayram, al-Ẓāhir Barqūq’s daughter (after Īnālbāy’s death)

Muqbil al-Rūmī (d. 815/1412)

married Sārra, al-Ẓāhir Barqūq’s daughter (after her divorce from Nawrūz al-Ḥāfiẓī)

Sūdūn al-Ḥamzāwī married Zaynab (d. (d. 810/1407) 826/1423), al-Ẓāhir Barqūq’s daughter

Yashbak ibn Azdamir (d. 817/1414)

married a sister of Fāṭima (al-Nāṣir Faraj’s wife, d. 846/1442–43)

Some details of career revolted against al-Ẓāhir Barqūq in 791/1389, was arrested and executed by alẒāhir Barqūq’s order

Sources

al-Ṣayrafī, Nuzhat al-nufūs, 1:361; Ibn Taghrībirdī, Nujūm, 12:38 revolted against al-Nāṣir al-Maqrīzī, Faraj and was exiled by Durar, 3:513–18; him in 808/1405, then Ibn Taghrībirdī, revolted against alNujūm, 12:231, Muʾayyad Shaykh and was 13:271–72 killed on 28 Rabīʿ II 817/17 July 17 1414 was exiled by al-Nāṣir al-Maqrīzī, Sulūk, Faraj and killed in a battle 6:36, 181, 185 against Shaykh in 809/1407 was arrested and executed al-Maqrīzī, Sulūk, by al-Muʾayyad Shaykh in 6:292, 306, 376; 818/1415 Ibn Taghrībirdī, Nujūm, 13:280 was killed in 815/1412 al-Maqrīzī, Sulūk, 6:315; Ibn Taghrībirdī, Nujūm, 13:132, 264 revolted against al-Nāṣir al-Maqrīzī, Sulūk, Faraj and was executed by 6:87, 90, 181, him in 810/1407 185, 195; alSakhāwī, Ḍawʾ, 3:278–79, 12:40; Ibn Taghrībirdī, Manhal, 6:123– 27; Ibn Taghrībirdī, Nujūm, 12:231 revolted against alal-Sakhāwī, Muʾayyad Shaykh Ḍawʾ, 10:270; (together with Nawrūz alIbn Taghrībirdī, Ḥāfiẓī) and was killed in Nujūm, 13:272 817/1414

CONCUBINES, DAUGHTERS, AND WIVES

Amir Jarbāsh Kird (d. 877/1472)

Relation to sultan’s family married to Shaqrāʾ (d. 887/1482), al-Nāṣir Faraj’s daughter

Some details of career was declared sultan in 865/1461, exiled by alẒāhir Khushqadam in 869/1465

35 Sources

al-Sakhāwī, Ḍawʾ, 12:68; Ibn Iyās, Badāʾiʿ, 3:190; Ibn Taghrībirdī, Manhal, 4:260– 61; Ibn Taghrībirdī, Nujūm, 16:231, 257 Alṭunbughā almarried Sutayta, alwas killed by al-Ẓāhir al-Maqrīzī, Sulūk, Qurmushī Muʾayyad Shaykh’s Ṭaṭar in 824/1421 7:16; Ibn (d. 824/1421) daughter, on 12 Shaʿbān Taghrībirdī, 823/22 August 1420 Manhal, 3:62–66 Īnāl al-Jakamī married Quṭlubāy, alrevolted against al-Ẓāhir al-Maqrīzī, Sulūk, (d. 842/1439) Muʾayyad Shaykh’s Jaqmaq in 841/1438 and 7:399, 416–20; widow was executed by al-Ẓāhir Ibn Taghrībirdī, Jaqmaq’s order in 842/1439 Nujūm, 14:33 Yashbak min married Āsiya (d. plotted against al-Ẓāhir al-Sakhāwī, Salmān Shāh al891/1486), al-Muʾayyad Yalbāy in 872/1467 Ḍawʾ, 10:270–72, Faqīh Shaykh’s daughter, during 12:2; Ibn (d. 878/1473) al-Muʾayyad Shaykh’s Taghrībirdī, reign; divorced after a Nujūm, 16:329 while al-Maqrīzī, Sulūk, Jakam brother of Julbān (d. plotted against al-Ẓāhir 7:334, 376–77, 839/1436), al-Ashraf Jaqmaq, was arrested by Barsbāy’s wife him and freed in 842/1438 433; al-Sakhāwī, (under the reign of al-ʿAzīz Ḍawʾ, 12:17 Yūsuf), was arrested by alẒāhir Jaqmaq again in 843/1439 Baybars brother of Julbān (d. was arrested by al-Ẓāhir al-Maqrīzī, Sulūk, (d. 873/1469) 839/1436), al-Ashraf Jaqmaq 843/1439 and by 7:433; alBarsbāy’s wife al-Ẓāhir Khushqadam Sakhāwī, Ḍawʾ, 865/1461, was exiled by al- 3:21; Ibn Iyās, Ashraf Qāytbāy Badāʾiʿ, 3:29; Ibn Taghrībirdī, Nujūm, 16:339 Khalīl ibn Shāhīn married Aṣīl, sister of was arrested under al-Ẓāhir al-Sakhāwī, al-Ẓāhirī Julbān (d. 839/1436), alJaqmaq’s reign and exiled Ḍawʾ, 3:195–97; (d. 873/1468) Ashraf Barsbāy’s wife by al-Ẓāhir Khushqadam Ibn Taghrībirdī, Nujūm, 16:39–40 Qurqmās al-Ashrafī married (after al-Ashraf was arrested by al-Ẓāhir al-Sakhāwī, (d. 873/1468–69) Barsbāy’s death) Yalbāy in 872/1467 Ḍawʾ, 6:218 Malikbāy, al-Ashraf Barsbāy’s concubine

36 Amir Tanam alMuʾayyadī (d. 868/1464)

M. ILIUSHINA

Relation to sultan’s family married Banakh (or Banaj) (d. 899/1493–94), a relative of al-Ẓāhir Jaqmaq

Azbak min Ṭuṭukh (1) married Khadīja bint al(d. 904/1499) Bārizī (d. 867/1463), alẒāhir Jaqmaq’s daughter in 854/1450; (2) married Fāṭima, alẒāhir Jaqmaq’s daughter, Jānibak al-Ẓarīf’s widow, after 870/1465–66 Barsbāy al-Bajāsī (1) married Khadīja bint (d. 871/1466) Āqṭuwa, al-Ashraf Barsbāy’s relative and Muḥammad ibn al-Ẓāhir Jaqmaq’s ex-wife (Muḥammad divorced her some days before his death in 847/1444); (2) married Shāhzāda (d. 859/1455), al-Ashraf Barsbāy’s widow, alẒāhir Jaqmaq’s ex-wife; (3) married al-Ashraf Īnāl’s granddaughter Jānibak al-Ẓarīf married Fāṭima, al-Ẓāhir (d. 870/1465–66) Jaqmaq’s daughter Khayrbak (d. 887/1482)

(1) married Khadīja, Shaqrāʾ’s and Jarbāsh Kird’s daughter, al-Nāṣir Faraj’s granddaughter; (2) married Injibāy (d. 886/1481–82), al-Ẓāhir Jaqmaq’s concubine (after Khadīja’s death) Khayrbak al-Ẓāhirī married Fāṭima (d. (d. 879/1474) 892/1487), a granddaughter of Kamāl al-Dīn Muḥammad ibn alBārizī, brother of Mughul (d. 876/1472), al-Ẓāhir Jaqmaq’s wife

Some details of career

Sources

revolted against al-Ashraf Īnāl and was arrested by him in 857/1453

Ibn Iyās, Badāʾiʿ, 3:292; Ibn Taghrībirdī, Nujūm, 16:295– 97 was arrested by al-Ashraf al-Sakhāwī, Īnāl in 857/1453 and by al- Ḍawʾ, 12:90–91; Ẓāhir Khushqadam in Ibn Iyās, Badāʾiʿ, 867/1463; was exiled by al- 3:309, 402; Ibn Ashraf Qāytbāy in Taghrībirdī, 901/1495 Nujūm, 15:155, 16:41, 247 was arrested by al-Ẓāhir Khushqadam in 865/1461

al-Sakhāwī, Ḍawʾ, 3:7–8, 7:210–12, 12:37; Ibn Taghrībirdī, Manhal, 3:279– 82; Ibn Taghrībirdī, Nujūm, 16:230, 313–14

was arrested by al-Ẓāhir Khushqadam and died in prison was exiled in 885/1481 by al-Ashraf Qāytbāy

al-Sakhāwī, Ḍawʾ, 3:53, 12:90–91 Ibn Iyās, Badāʾiʿ, 3:171; alSakhāwī, Ḍawʾ, 3:207–8

was declared sultan in 872/1468 and arrested by alAshraf Qāytbāy in the same year

al-Sakhāwī, Ḍawʾ, 3:209; Ibn Iyās, Badāʾiʿ, 3:6, 93, 237

CONCUBINES, DAUGHTERS, AND WIVES

Amir Azdamir al-Ṭawīl (d. 885/1480)

Relation to sultan’s family married Khadīja, alManṣūr ʿUthmān’s daughter, in 878/1474

al-Shihābī Aḥmad ibn ʿAbd al-Raḥīm ibn al-ʿAynī (d. 909/1503)

grandson of Shukrbāy (d. 870/1465–66), al-Nāṣir Faraj’s concubine, alẒāhir Khushqadam’s wife (Aḥmad’s father was Abrak al-Jakamī)

Kasbāy alKhushqadamī (d. 881/1477)

(1) married Fāṭima (d. 872/1467), al-Ashraf Īnāl’s daughter; (2) brother of al-Ẓāhir Tamurbughā’s wife

Burdbak al-Ashrafī married al-Ashraf Īnāl’s (d. 868/1464) daughter before 857/1453

Tānībak Qarā (d. 905/1500)

married al-Ashraf Īnāl’s granddaughter

Aqbirdī (d. 904/1499)

married a sister of Fāṭima (d. 909/1504), al-Ashraf Qāytbāy’s wife, in 887/1482 married Fāṭima, alMuʾayyad Aḥmad’s granddaughter, in 903/1497–98

Qānībāy Qarā (d. 921/1515)

Some details of career

37 Sources

was arrested, exiled, and executed by al-Ashraf Qāytbāy

al-Sakhāwī, Ḍawʾ, 2:273, 12:29; Ibn Iyās, Badāʾiʿ, 3:90, 162–63 was arrested by al-Ashraf Ibn Iyās, Badāʾiʿ, Qāytbāy in 872/1468; al3:7–8, 4:57–58; Ashraf Qānṣūh al-Ghawrī Ibn Taghrībirdī, gave the order to arrest al- Nujūm, 16:240 Shihābī Aḥmad in 909/1503 (some days before Aḥmad’s death); the order was not executed was arrested and exiled by al-Sakhāwī, Ḍawʾ, 6:229, al-Ashraf Qāytbāy in 872/1468 12:90; Ibn Iyās, Badāʾiʿ, 3:4, 18, 119; Ibn Taghrībirdī, Nujūm, 16:346 was arrested by al-Sakhāwī, Khushqadam in 865/1461 Ḍawʾ, 3:4–5; Ibn Taghrībirdī, Nujūm, 16:95, 225 supported Aqbirdī’s revolt Ibn Iyās, Badāʾiʿ, against al-Nāṣir 3:420–21, 4:128 Muḥammad in 902/1497; was strangled to death on alẒāhir Qānṣūh’s order revolted against al-Nāṣir Ibn Iyās, Badāʾiʿ, Muḥammad in 902/1497 3:187–88, 355, 411–12 was arrested by al-Ẓāhir Qānṣūh in 905/1500; supported al-ʿĀdil Ṭūmānbāy’s revolt against al-Ashraf Jānbulāṭ in 906/1500; revolted against al-ʿĀdil Ṭūmānbāy in 906/1501; probably was poisoned

Ibn Iyās, Badāʾiʿ, 3:385, 426, 445, 467, 4:450–52

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Bibliography Published Sources Al-ʿAynī, al-Sulṭān Barqūq: muʾassis dawlat al-Mamālīk al-Jarākisa 784– 801/1382–98, min khilāl makhṭūṭ ʿIqd al-jumān fī tārīkh ahl al-zamān, ed. Ī. ʿU. Shukrī, Cairo 2003. Ibn al-Furāt, Tārīkh Ibn al-Furāt, vol. 9, ed. Q. Zurayq and N. ʿIzz al-Dīn, Beirut 1936–8. Ibn Ḥajar al-ʿAsqalānī, Inbāʾ al-ghumr bi-abnāʾ al-ʿumr, ed. Ḥ. Ḥabashī, 4 vols., Cairo 1998. Ibn Iyās, Die Chronik des Ibn Ijās [Badāʾiʿ al-zuhūr fī waqāʾiʿ al-duhūr], ed. M. Mostafa et al., 6 vols., Leipzig, Istanbul, and Stuttgart 1931–75. Ibn Taghrībirdī, al-Manhal al-ṣāfī wa-l-mustawfá baʿda al-wāfī, ed. M. M. Amīn, 13 vols., Cairo 1984–2009. ———, al-Nujūm al-zāhira fī mulūk Miṣr wa-l-Qāhira, ed. M. Ḥ. Shams al-Dīn, 16 vols., Beirut 1992. Al-Maqrīzī, Durar al-ʿuqūd al-farīda fī tarājim al-aʿyān al-mufīda, ed. M. alJalīlī, 4 vols., Beirut 2002. ———, al-Sulūk li-maʿrifat duwal al-mulūk, ed. M. ʿAṭā, 8 vols., Beirut 1997. Al-Sakhāwī, al-Ḍawʾ al-lāmiʿ li-ahl al-qarn al-tāsiʿ, 12 vols., Beirut n.d. Al-Ṣayrafī, Nuzhat al-nufūs wa-l-abdān fī tawārīkh al-zamān, ed. Ḥ. Ḥabashī, 3 vols., Cairo 1970. References ʿAbd al-Nabī, H. M. S., al-Zawāj fī usar salāṭīn al-Mamālīk, in Annales Islamologiques 42 (2008), 25–47. ʿAbd al-Rāziq, A., La femme au temps des Mamlouks en Égypte, Cairo 2003. Ayalon, D., The Circassians in the Mamluk Kingdom, in Journal of the American Oriental Society 69, no. 3 (1949), 135–47. ———, Mamluk Military Aristocracy, a Non-Hereditary Nobility, in Jerusalem Studies in Arabic and Islam 10 (1987), 205–10. Bauden, F., The Sons of al-Nāṣir Muḥammad and the Politics of Puppets: Where Did It All Start?, in Mamlūk Studies Review 13, no. 1 (2009), 53–81. Berkey, J., al-Subkī and His Women, in Mamlūk Studies Review 14 (2010), 1–17.

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Broadbridge, A.F., Sending Home for Mom and Dad: The Extended Family Impulse in Mamluk Politics, in Mamlūk Studies Review 15 (2011), 1–18. D’Hulster, K., and J. Van Steenbergen, Family Matters: The ‘Family-In-Law Impulse’ in Mamluk Marriage Policy, in Annales Islamologiques 47 (2013), 61– 82. Frenkel, Y., Women in Late Mamluk Damascus in the Light of Audience Certificates (Samāʿāt), in U. Vermeulen and J. Van Steenbergen (eds.), Egypt and Syria in the Fatimid, Ayyubid and Mamluk Eras IV: Proceedings of the 9th and 10th International Colloquium Organized at the Katholieke Universiteit Leuven in May 2000 and May 2001, Leuven 2005, 409–24. Fuess, A., How to Marry Right: Searching for a Royal Spouse at the Mamluk Court of Cairo in the Fifteenth Century, DYNTRAN Working Paper 21, February 2017. http://dyntran.hypotheses.org/1761. Garcin, J.-Cl., The Regime of the Circassian Mamlūks, in C.F. Petry (ed.), The Cambridge History of Egypt, vol. 1, Cambridge 1998 (repr. 2006), 290–317. Guo, L., Tales of a Medieval Cairene Harem: Domestic Life in al-Biqāʿī’s Autobiographical Chronicle, in Mamlūk Studies Review 9 (2005), 101–21. Haarmann, U., Arabic in Speech, Turkish in Lineage: Mamluks and Their Sons in the Intellectual Life of Fourteenth-Century Egypt and Syria, in Journal of Semitic Studies 33, no. 1 (1988), 81–114. ———, The Mamluk System of Rule in the Eyes of Western Travelers, in Mamlūk Studies Review 5 (2001), 1–24. Holt, P.M., Succession in the Early Mamluk Sultanate, in E. von Schuler (ed.), XXIII. Deutscher Orientalistentag: Ausgewählte Vorträge, Stuttgart 1989, 144– 8. Levanoni, A., A Turning Point in Mamluk History: The Third Reign of al-Nāṣir Muḥammad Ibn Qalawun (1310–1341), Leiden 1995. ———, Rank-and-File Mamluks versus Amirs: New Norms in the Mamluk Military Institution, in Th. Philipp and U. Haarmann (eds.), The Mamluks in Egyptian Politics and Society, Cambridge 1988, 17–31. ———, The Mamluk Conception of the Sultanate, in International Journal of Middle East Studies 26 (1994), 373–92. ———, The Mamlūks in Egypt and Syria: The Turkish Mamlūk Sultanate (648– 784/1250–1382) and the Circassian Mamlūk Sultanate (784–923/1382–1517), in M. Fierro (ed.), The New Cambridge History of Islam, vol. 2, Cambridge 2010, 237–84. Petry, C.F., The Civilian Elite of Cairo in the Later Middle Ages, Princeton 1981.

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———, The Estate of al-Khuwand Fāṭima al-Khaṣṣbakiyya: Royal Spouse, Autonomous Investor, in M. Winter and A. Levanoni (eds.), The Mamluks in Egyptian and Syrian Politics and Society, Leiden 2004, 277–94. ———, Protectors or Praetorians? The Last Mamlūk Sultans and Egypt’s Waning as a Great Power, Albany 1994. Rapoport, Y., Women and Gender in Mamluk Society: An Overview, in Mamlūk Studies Review 11, no. 2 (2007), 1–47. Sievert, H., Der Herrscherwechsel im Mamlukensultanat: Historische und historigraphische Untersuchungen zu Abū Ḥāmid al-Qudsī und Ibn Tafirībīrdī, Berlin 2003. Van Steenbergen, J., Caught between Heredity and Merit: The Amir Qūṣūn and the Legacy of al-Nāṣir Muḥammad b. Qalāwūn (d. 1341), in Bulletin of the School of Oriental and African Studies 78, no. 3 (2015), 429–50. ———, ‘Is anyone my guardian…?’ Mamlūk Under-Age Rule and the Later Qalāwūnids, in al-Masāq 19, no. 1 (2007), 55–65. ———, Order Out of Chaos: Patronage, Conflict and Mamluk Socio-Political Culture, 1341–1382, Leiden 2006. Van Steenbergen, J., P. Wing, and K. D’Hulster, The Mamlukization of the Mamluk Sultanate? State Formation and the History of Fifteenth Century Egypt and Syria: Part II—Comparative Solutions and a New Research Agenda, in History Compass 14, no. 11 (2016), 560–9. Yosef, K., Ethnic Groups, Social Relationships and Dynasty in the Mamluk Sultanate (1250–1517) [in Hebrew], Ph.D. diss., Tel Aviv University 2010. ———, Ethnic Groups, Social Relationships and Dynasty in the Mamluk Sultanate (1250–1517), in Annemarie Schimmel Kolleg Working Paper 6, 2012. ———, Mamluks and Their Relatives in the Period of the Mamluk Sultanate (1250–1517), in Mamlūk Studies Review 16 (2012), 55–69. ———, Masters and Slaves: Substitute Kinship in the Mamlūk Sultanate, in U. Vermeulen, K. D’hulster, and J. Van Steenbergen (eds.), Egypt and Syria in the Fatimid, Ayyubid and Mamluk Eras VIII, Leuven 2016, 557–79. ———, Usages of Kinship Terminology during the Mamluk Sultanate and the Notion of the ‘Mamlūk Family,’ in Y. Ben-Bassat (ed.), Developing Perspectives in Mamluk History: Essays in Honor of Amalia Levanoni, Leiden 2017, 16–75.

MAKERS ON-THE-MOVE MOBILITY AND EXCHANGE IN MAMLUK ARCHITECTURAL PRACTICE Ellen KENNEY

Introduction “To say that X influenced Y in some matter is to beg the question of cause without quite appearing to do so.”1 This statement was published fifty years ago by Michael Baxandall in Patterns of Intention, an essay analyzing the notion of intentionality that has had far-reaching consequences throughout the art history discipline and ultimately inspired a paradigm revision across specializations. Tucked into Baxandall’s essay, a brief digression modestly titled “Excursus against influence” chastised art historians for their frequent recourse to the facile notion of influence as a change-agent. Baxandall famously called out the influence narrative, labeling it as “shifty.” In the field of Islamic art, the influence paradigm long survived Baxandall’s “Excursus.” One reason for its endurance there relates directly to the particular usefulness to historians of Islamic art of the very shiftiness that Baxandall critiqued: in a field so short on known artists, where makers often cannot be identified more specifically than X and Y, it is not unusual to find change explained by the influence of one dynastic or regional style upon another. Ripples from this art historical paradigm change have even lapped on the distant shores of Mamluk studies. Almost twenty years ago, Jonathan Bloom invoked Baxandall’s essay in his state-of-the-field article on the study of Mamluk art and architecture published in Mamlūk Studies Review. Assessing contributions to the understanding of Mamluk architecture and its development over time, Bloom contrasted the approaches adopted by two of our generation’s most prominent scholars of the subject: Michael Meinecke and Doris Behrens-Abouseif. While Meinecke’s theory ascribed change largely to the movements of traveling building professionals, Behrens-Abouseif refuted that attribution, suggesting instead that architectural developments resulted from a range of mechanisms—an approach that “relied on rather nebulous theories of artistic ‘influence’ to explain Mamluk architecture,” in Bloom’s view.2 Much of this discourse has played out in the peripheral zone of specialized journal reviews, but the problem that it addresses—how to identify the mechanisms of formal change in material cul1 2

Baxandall, Patterns of Intention 19. Bloom, Mamluk Art 39.

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ture—is a central one, not only to the study of Mamluk art or Islamic art, but also more broadly to the field of art history. Such apparent divergence of opinion on a question so fundamental, between figures so instrumental in shaping the study of Islamic architecture, warrants further reflection. In this article, I will first reconsider the discussions outlined above in light of recent scholarship, particularly that focused on exchange as a catalyst for architectural development.3 Exchange—the theme of the present volume—offers an alternative to the influence paradigm as a vehicle for examining cultural transmission. An exchange narrative differs from an influence narrative in that it points towards more direct processes of transmission. Whether the object of exchange is tangible (such as a made object or a raw material) or conceptual (such as an iconographic reference or a collective memory),4 the paradigm of exchange creates more space for examining intentional interaction and known actors. Secondly, I will revisit an architectural case study to assess the role of makers’ mobility in its execution, drawing on broader discussions of cultural agents “on the move.” Given the prolific building activity of the Mamluk period, the relatively high preservation rate of its architectural legacy, the richness of its epigraphic tradition, and its wealth of historical literature and documentation, we would be justified in expecting such mechanisms of exchange to be well articulated.5 However, due to gaps in these sources, such expectations are not fulfilled. From the embarrassment of empirical riches just described, the history of Mamluk architecture emerges with a well-developed building chronology, a clear picture of its historical and cultural contexts, and a long roster of sponsoring patrons—but very few makers whose names can be linked with both a biographical context and an “oeuvre,” very little description of workshop practices, and hardly any traces of representative means of recording designs. In particular, the paradox presented by the relative anonymity of makers in the Mamluk period, in contrast to their excellence and output, has generated considerable scholarship. Nasser Rabbat, Behrens-Abouseif, and others have demonstrated that such individuals tend not to 3

4 5

I am profoundly grateful to the organizers of the 2016 School of Mamlūk Studies Conference for the opportunity to participate in the themed day and especially to Marlis Saleh and my anonymous reviewers for their help in preparing the paper for publication. My travel to Chicago was made possible by a grant from the American University in Cairo (AUC). Many thanks are due to my AUC colleagues Amina Elbendary and Adam Talib for their encouragement and to the team of AUC alumni, Dina Bakhoum, Hani Hamza, Iman Abdulfattah, and Noha Abou Khatwa, for sharing their feedback at our dry run session. Finally, my thanks go out to Ross Burns, Daniel Demeter, and Nasser Rabbat for generously sharing their images with me. The iconography of architectural exchange is articulated in Krautheimer, Introduction. As impressive as is the preserved Mamluk architectural record, it represents only a fraction of the original corpus and its extant remains are much altered. This has a very real impact on our understanding of “influence” or “exchange,” since lost prototypes and epigones can only figure hypothetically into consideration.

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be written into the historical record by their contemporaries and they have explored the reasons for this omission.6 These scholars have also glossed the various job titles related to the building arts employed in written sources, revealing polyvalence in their meanings and changes in their usage.7 A related path of inquiry considers how such professionals were organized, the extent to which they may have formed units such as ateliers, and whether or not such units can be considered guilds or proto-guilds, court workshops or proto-court workshops.8 Another question that has received attention in recent scholarship relates to the perhaps exaggerated notion of artisanal anonymity and the relative rarity of signatures by building professionals.9 In light of the problem of lacunae in the overall architectural record, we have to assume that many signatures have been lost, along with buildings and building parts, and that some signatures may have escaped attention so far. Mechanisms of Exchange Given the degree of ambiguity surrounding the subject of Mamluk-period building professionals, it is perhaps surprising that these indistinct figures play such a prominent role in the analysis of Michael Meinecke in his 1992 corpus of Mamluk architecture. Meinecke set out not only to catalogue the building works of the Mamluk period, but also to explain its changes over time. The engine of this development, “der Motor der Entwicklung,” was the centrality of Cairo throughout the Mamluk period.10 However, while underscoring Cairo’s centrality, Meinecke expanded his scope of inquiry to include the entire Mamluk realm, rather than 6

7

8

9

10

Behrens-Abouseif, Muhandis; Rabbat, Architects; idem, Perception; Behrens-Abouseif, Cairo of the Mamluks 16f. A recent contribution to this discussion is Omniya Abdel Barr’s 2015 thesis, L’art urbain. Broader surveys of Islamic building professionals include Taymūr, alMuhandisūn; Mayer, Islamic Architects; and Ghabin, Hisba. Because of the ambiguity in the use, interpretation, and translation of specific architectural job titles, I am using broad terms such as “maker,” “building expert,” or “building professional” in this article. Finster, Craftsmen; Rogers, Uses 26; idem, Court Workshops; cf. Behrens-Abouseif, Cairo of the Mamluks 41. To compare with the connections between nisbahs, signatures, and guilds in Mamluk-period ceramics production, see Walker, Ceramic Evidence 45–54. In addition to these studies, Iman Abdulfattah’s recent papers on the role of building supervisors have shed new light on the subject (From Behind the Scenes; Biography of a Building), as does her recent online working paper (Amir ʿAlam al-Dīn Sanjar al-Shujāʿī) published in 2016 by the Annemarie Schimmel Kolleg, Bonn. ʿAbd al-Wahhāb, Tawqīʿāt; Meinecke, Zur sogenannten Anonymität; Blair and Bloom, Signatures. By contrast, makers’ signatures appear with greater frequency in the architecture of Seljuk Anatolia (see Rogers, Waqf and Patronage) and in Timurid buildings (see O’Kane, Timurid 371–2) than in the Mamluk context, where—paradoxically—they seem to be used less frequently in the capital than in the Syrian provinces. Meinecke, Mamlukische Architektur i, 7.

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only Cairene commissions, and the resulting breadth of his catalogue is widely considered to be one of its most groundbreaking contributions. His survey includes lost works as well as extant monuments; renovations, secular constructions, and engineering projects as well as religious buildings. All of these he presents chronologically, conveying the sequence and concurrence of commissions throughout the realm in a way that no earlier study had done. Meinecke used this sequencing of information, together with his keen eye and architectural connoisseurship, to speculate about the mechanisms of change in building practice across time and space. Ultimately, he attributed much of this change to the movement of building professionals. In fact, Meinecke’s study foregrounds building professionals and especially what he interpreted as their frequent relocations from one urban center in the empire to another. It not only traces well-known incidents of such relocations documented in literary sources and inscriptions, but also uses visual evidence to reconstruct the career paths of otherwise unidentified building professionals and ateliers, sometimes resulting in dizzying itineraries crisscrossing the lands under Mamluk dominion and beyond.11 The map of the Mamluk empire encompasses multiple urban centers with relatively discrete local building traditions, each shaped by its unique mix of relatively stable factors, such as geography, climate, geology, and dendrology—as well as by its own historical place in economic, political, and social developments.12 Each of these local traditions was preserved by customs, which—as with most artisan-fields of the time—were mainly transmitted through a process of father-to-son apprenticeship or the like.13 The specificity of these local building traditions justifies the tendency of architectural historians to generate monographs on the period’s building history in terms of particular urban centers. Cairo, Gaza, Jerusalem, and Tripoli have all been treated in book-length works with city-specific purviews for the Mamluk period.14 Meinecke’s Wanderwerkstätten commute between these discrete urban centers. They migrate between the monographs—as it were. However, did Meinecke overstate his argument for the role of migrating building workshops in the development of Mamluk architecture? Doris BehrensAbouseif took issue with this aspect of his study. Focusing on his use of such terms as “Bauhütte” and “Architektengilde,” she argued that he was overly attached to a conception of medieval European practices and questioned the 11

12 13 14

Meinecke reiterated his main thesis about itinerant building professionals in his Kevorkian Lectures, which were published posthumously as Patterns of Stylistic Changes. Cf. BehrensAbouseif, Review of Patterns of Stylistic Changes 136–7. Meinecke, Mamluk Architecture; Allen, Concept of Regional Style. Behrens-Abouseif, Muhandis 308; Necipoğlu, Topkapı Scroll 22f. Salam-Liebich, Architecture; Burgoyne, Mamluk Jerusalem; Sadek, Mamlukische Architektur; Behrens-Abouseif, Cairo of the Mamluks.

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impression of workshop autonomy that these terms imply. She suggested that other modes of transmission might better explain visual “influences.”15 It was in the context of analyzing these two divergent perspectives that Bloom, troubled by Behrens-Abouseif’s use of the by-then suspect term “influence,” invoked Baxandall. However, it should be pointed out that Behrens-Abouseif did not propose to replace Meinecke’s migration theory with a single, alternative “influence” theory, but rather to demonstrate that multiple alternative modes of transmission might account for the visual developments that we witness in Mamluk architecture. She asserted that many instances of innovative architectural layouts, forms, or applied decorative motifs could more probably have been derived from proximate exemplars, drawings, or descriptions than transmitted by itinerant builders. For example, in her view the East Asian motifs carved in the Sultan Ḥasan portal and the unusual epigraphic frieze inside are creations not of Iranian migrants, but of Cairene artisans copying designs from portable Iranian objects. The congregational mosque at Manisa could be the product of its own regional building tradition, rather than of relocated builders formerly employed at the Sultan Ḥasan complex. Cairo’s late fifteenth-century Qubbat al-Fadāwiyya likely evolved through an endogenous process, independent of earlier and concurrent architectural developments in Anatolia. Meinecke, on the other hand, had attributed all of these developments to artisanal mobility. Notably, most of the examples Behrens-Abouseif cited to challenge Meinecke’s “migration of workshops” theory involved the question of “foreign influences” related to Cairene Mamluk architecture. However, in addition to arguing for architects’ movements to and from “foreign” lands, Meinecke also tried to trace the paths of building professionals moving between various urban centers within the Mamluk realm. Behrens-Abouseif’s critique—sometimes explicitly and sometimes implicitly—cast doubt on the theory of such trans-regional workshop migration as well as international movement. While she allowed for “the mobility of individual craftsmen,” she questioned that of craft groups.16 Citing Meinecke’s use the term “Bauhütten” (which she translates as “lodges”), she asserted that his theory “implies an inner organization or even autonomy, migrating from one region to another according to the market’s requirements,”—a notion she counters by stating that “the building craft was largely in the rulers’ hands rather than a free trade.”17 However, the level of organization within building teams and the impetus for their movements are not central to Meinecke’s thesis of migrating workshops. Rather, its focus is first and foremost on tracing their migrations and assessing their impact on the built environment.

15 16 17

Behrens-Abouseif, Review of Mamlukische. Ibid. 125. Ibid. 126.

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Behrens-Abouseif’s arguments favoring multiple modes of transmission and her recognition of the specificity of different modes relative to different architectural contexts constitutes one of the great merits of her response. Her subsequent publications explore many of these nuanced mechanisms of exchange in detail. Her 2008 survey of Cairo’s Mamluk architecture includes an updated overview of the question in its introductory section, and explicitly addresses the question of visual exchange in several of its individual building entries.18 A number of her other studies focusing on examining particular examples of exchange delve into topics that facilitate such examination.19 Her recent volume dedicated to the patterns of gifting in the period provides a broad framework for understanding one of the most important mechanisms of visual transmission.20 In the twenty-five years since the publication of Meinecke’s survey, several other projects related to the themes of “mobility” and “exchange” have emerged from the fields of Mamluk history, Islamic art history, and Mediterranean studies.21 They provide theoretical frameworks that bear on the issue of maker mobility. Before turning to our case study, it might be useful to situate the discussion within the broader context of makers’ mobility and exchange in the Mamluk period.22 Three well-known episodes involving forced movements of makers stand out: the early Mamluk sultans’ deployment of Crusader captives in architectural projects in the capital and elsewhere;23 Timur’s infamous abduction of craftsmen from Damascus to Samarqand in 1401; 24 and Sultan Salīm’s relocation of Cairobased craftsmen to Istanbul in 1517.25 Doubtless, the art-historical trope of magnetism probably also applied: the lure of employment serving the wealthy courts and bustling markets of Cairo and Damascus must have drawn makers from places where livelihoods had become insecure, such as Reconquista Iberia or the plague18 19

20 21

22

23 24

25

Behrens-Abouseif, Cairo of the Mamluks. Behrens-Abouseif, European Arts; idem, Mamluk Perceptions; idem, Qaytbay’s Madrasahs; idem, Craftsmen. Behrens-Abouseif, Practicing Diplomacy. Such works include Conermann, Everything is on the Move; Gruber, Islamic Architecture on the Move; Bleichmar and Martin, Objects in Motion in the Early Modern World; Da Costa Kaufmann, Circulations; and the Kunsthistorisches Institut in Florenz project, Art, Space and Mobility in the Early Ages of Globalization: The Mediterranean, Central Asia and the Indian Subcontinent 400–1650, directed by Hannah Baader, Avinoam Shalem, and Gerhard Wolf. In this article, I limit my discussion of mobility to the geographic dimension. Regarding social mobility in the artisanal classes, see, for example, Behrens-Abouseif, Craftsmen; Rabbat, Architects; Sabra, From Artisan to Courtier; and Elbendary, View from Below. Behrens-Abouseif, Cairo of the Mamluks 45. Haase, Probleme der Künstler-konzentration; on post-Timur Damascus, see also Elodie Vigouroux’s unpublished thesis, Damas après Tamerlan. Meinecke, Mamlukische Architektur 209–20; Rogers, Stones 74; Mayer, Islamic Architects 66; Ibn Iyās, Journal d’un bourgeois ii, 156, 173ff, 176.

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ridden Ilkhanid lands.26 Specific incidents of individual makers “on-the-move” in Mamluk architectural history include the story of a building specialist brought from Tabriz to Cairo by Amir Aytamish following a diplomatic mission.27 Literary sources testify to numerous incidents of teams being dispatched from one part of the empire to another under official orders—such as Qāytbāy’s mobilization of building teams for projects in the holy cities of Mecca, Medina, and Jerusalem.28 These cases are generally accepted as instances of makers on-the-move and most involve some degree of cross-source corroboration, with textual evidence supported by visual analysis of architectural remains. The problem arises when visual material suggests exchange between two regional traditions, but texts say nothing to explain it. In such cases, as Behrens-Abouseif has argued, there may well be other mechanisms of transmission at work, besides the movement of building professionals from place to place.29 Indeed, several alternative modes of transmission could be contributing to exchanges evidenced in the visual record— most of which do not necessarily exclude the others. In theory, such exchange might be implemented through replication based on professional technical drawings or scale models sent from one place to another.30 Reproductions of standing buildings or architectonic elements surveyed or copied in situ in one place might be delivered to another place. Decorative designs might be copied from portable art objects which themselves had been transmitted from one place to another, resulting in a kind of cross-media exchange as well as an interregional one.31 And, more abstractly, replication might be based on oral or written description.32 In the absence of thorough signature trails, the very attribution of building works to makers must remain in the realm of speculation. Hypotheses of makers’ movements must be based on visual diagnostic markers, if such exist. Other mechanisms are also unclear: if makers are moving from city to city, are they doing so individually or as teams? And are they moving about “on spec” or “on commission”? 26

27

28 29 30

31 32

On migration of artisans and workshops to Cairo, see Creswell, Muslim Architecture of Egypt i, 165–70; and Ibrahim, Great Ḫānqāh 54ff. For a critique of “catastrophe theory” to explain cultural change, see Rogers, Architectural History 49, and idem, Uses 24. This builder was responsible for the construction of two minarets in Cairo and one in the Delta (Behrens-Abouseif, Cairo of the Mamluks 172; idem, Mamluk Perceptions 305; Little, Notes on Aitamiš 398. Behrens-Abouseif, Qaytbay’s Madrasahs; Haarmann, Yeomanly Arrogance. Behrens-Abouseif, Review of Mamlukische 125f. Rabbat, Design without Representation. This is addressed more broadly in Necipoğlu, Topkapı Scroll 3–10. For a document describing transmission of two-dimensional designs developed in a Timurid kutubkhānah to such objects as tents, caskets, and saddles, see Thackston, Arzadasht 324–5. Behrens-Abouseif, Cairo of the Mamluks 41. See n. 51 below.

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Elsewhere, I have approached the question of workshop formation and makers’ mobility from the perspective of their sponsor’s and supervisor’s involvement through my study of the architectural patronage of Tankiz, nāʾib al-Shām during the third reign of Sultan al-Nāṣir Muḥammad.33 Throughout this roughly thirty-year period, the sultan’s keen interest in architecture stimulated building arts and resulted in a certain degree of centralization for mechanisms of construction.34 Such centralization included summoning building specialists from the Syrian province to the capital. During this period, the process of makers’ mobility also appears to have involved specialists from the capital traveling to building projects in Syria, mainly in connection with royal commissions at the revered Umayyad sites in Jerusalem and Damascus and with related vice-regal initiatives. However, al-Nāṣir Muḥammad is also famed for encouraging his amirs to construct new buildings and renovate old ones, both in the capital and in provincial cities. He is known to have assisted them with financial support and building materials, and to have dispatched for their works his highly experienced building supervisor, who in turn would have assembled building teams—presumably carrying over professionals from one project to another.35 In this dynamic but centralized building climate, it comes as no surprise that a narrative should emerge such as that of Muḥammad ibn Aḥmad Zaghlīsh alShāmī. His signature trail first emerges in Jerusalem at the Sūq al-Qaṭṭānīn constructed in 736–37/1336–37.36 It then resurfaces in Cairo at the Palace of Qawṣūn. Before the Jerusalem project, there is speculation that this expert had already been at work in Cairo on the portals of Bashtāk and Ulmās, and that he probably hailed originally from Syria, which his nisba suggests, perhaps specifically from Aleppo as Meinecke has proposed. Burgoyne hypothesizes that he was back in Jerusalem to execute the muqarnas-covered vestibule of the al-Sallāmiyya madrasa. This instance of a maker on-the-move represents one of the strongest, best-documented cases in the early Mamluk period, and it remains relatively hazy. For example, we do not know if Muḥammad ibn Aḥmad Zaghlīsh was moving from place to place solo or heading a team that moved around with him, and we do not know the extent of his responsibility for the buildings bearing his signature. In any case, it is clear that his is only one of many instances of building specialists being exchanged between the elite amirs and the sultan for their various projects, in the centralized context of al-Nāṣir Muḥammad’s architectural boom years.

33 34 35 36

Kenney, Power and Patronage. For an overview of this sultan’s works, see al-Harithy, Patronage. See, for example, the discussion of this interchange in Ibrahim, Great Ḫānqāh 52–7. ʿAbd al-Wahhāb, Tawqīʿāt 555; Mayer, Islamic Architects 93; Wiet et al., Répertoire xv, 138 (no. 5823); Burgoyne, Mamluk Jerusalem 98–9, 100 n. 56, 279, 307; Meinecke, Mamlukische Architektur i, 84f; cf. el-Bahnasi, Splendour 88.

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In contrast to the prolific building that characterizes al-Nāṣir Muḥammad’s golden age, the subsequent couple of decades witnessed a marked statistical decline in the number of commissions undertaken, paralleled by frequent changes in leadership and administration, as well as waves of plague, revolt, and economic hardship.37 For this new era, the question arises of whether the artistic mobility nurtured in the preceding phase of history was sustained, and whether mechanisms of exchange operated as before, or developed new patterns. If the driving force behind makers’ movements under al-Nāṣir Muḥammad had been demand from sponsors largely connected to his patronage, what became of these movements in the absence of such centralization? A Case Study: The Funerary Madrasa of Afrīdūn al-ʿAjamī in Damascus To explore this question, an instructive place to begin is with a monument in Damascus built a few years after the end of al-Nāṣir Muḥammad’s reign.38 Sponsored by a merchant named Shams al-Dīn Afrīdūn al-ʿAjamī, the foundation was established to serve as a madrasa and dār al-qurʾān, as well as mausoleum for the patron.39 Although no foundation text survives among its extant inscriptions, Ibn Ḥajar al-ʿAsqalānī gives 744/1344 as the year of construction.40 Al-Nuʿaymī (d. 1521) reports that in his day the foundation was supported with income generated from numerous villages, orchards, and commercial enterprises throughout Bilād al-Shām.41 Its site occupies what would have been a prime position on the west side of Midan Street, across from the Bāb al-Ṣaghīr Cemetery area “outside Bāb al-Jābiyya.” If the ultimate purpose of this funerary foundation was to memorialize its patron, it succeeded. Although Afrīdūn is mentioned in historical sources, the only thing for which he is remembered there appears to be the endowment of this “handsome” (al-malīḥa) madrasa.42 Unfortunately, no further information about other aspects of his career, his family life, and his connections has yet emerged. His personal name, Afrīdūn—a variant of Feridun—and his nisbas, al37

38

39

40 41 42

On the turbulent political developments following the reign of al-Nāṣir Muḥammad, see Van Steenbergen, Office. Meinecke, Mamlukische Architektur i, 109ff and ii, 199. Elsewhere, the date has been given as 1348 (e.g., Behrens-Abouseif, Cairo of the Mamluks 66f; Sauvaget, Monuments 70; Sack, Damaskus 104), but this appears to be an estimate based on the year of the founder’s death in 749/1348, so it should be considered a terminus ante quem rather than a construction or foundation date. The building’s construction date appears in Ibn Ḥajar al-ʿAsqalānī (al-Durar alkāmina i, 491). He provides a slightly different version of the patron’s name: Muḥammad ibn Muḥammad ibn ʿAlī al-Iṣbahānī. Al-Nuʿaymī, al-Dāris ii, 175; Ibn Kathīr, al-Bidāya xiv, 227; al-Dhahabī, Dhayl al-ʿibar iv, 153. Ibn Ḥajar al-ʿAsqalānī, al-Durar al-kāmina i, 491. Al-Nuʿaymī, al-Dāris ii, 175. Al-Dhahabī, Dhayl al-ʿibar iv, 153.

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ʿAjamī and al-Iṣbahānī, suggest that he was of Persian extraction, specifically from Isfahan. Sources leave no doubt as to his profession, describing him as a “great merchant” (al-tājir al-kabīr).43 The date of the foundation places it in the middle of the three-year reign of Sultan al-Ṣāliḥ Ismāʿīl (743–46/1342–45)— incidentally the only reign between al-Nāṣir Muḥammad and Sultan Ḥasan to last more than a year or so. It coincides with the two-year tenure as nāʾib al-Shām of Sayf al-Dīn Ṭuquztimur al-Ḥamawī (743–46/1342–45).44 Perhaps this short respite from political turnover provided a window of relative stability suitable for undertaking a major architectural commission such as this one. On the other hand, it may be that Afrīdūn’s profession as a merchant insulated him somewhat from the vicissitudes within the Mamluk establishment. Afrīdūn is listed as one of the thousands of notables who succumbed to bubonic plague in 749/1349.45 He was buried in this turba. The patron must have had a substantial fortune at his disposal as well as considerable clout, in order to afford the ambitious architectural project, to secure such a prime building site for his foundation, and to provide so generously for its support. Architecturally, the “Afrīdūniyya” (or “ʿAjamiyya,” as it is sometimes named) is acknowledged to represent a synthesis of different regional styles—or “influences.”46 Quintessentially Damascene features including an elevated pishtaqstyle portal frame and fully bichrome (ablaq) masonry, joggled string-course, and oculus roundels merge on the façade with elements clearly “imported” from the building traditions of other localities (Figs. 3.1–4).47 For example, it exhibits what appears to be the earliest (or at least the earliest surviving) example in Damascus of the use of the vertical wall recesses so characteristic of Cairene architecture since at least the late Fatimid period. It also highlights the earliest extant inclusion of a kind of decorative panel executed in polychrome marble inlay, largely associated with Aleppo. Inside the building, Cairene-style flat ceilings in the iwans appear alongside typically Aleppan muqarnas-pendentives in the transition zone of the mausoleum dome and Aleppan-style mihrab spandrels on the wall below it. Given the historical novelty of these features in Damascus and their rather assured integration with local architectonic devices, what are the mechanisms of exchange at work behind such architectural “influences”? Might a local building team have been provided with some kind of drawing or representation as a model to follow? Would it have been sufficient to instruct a local Damascene building 43 44 45 46

47

Ibid. Van Steenbergen, Office 445. Al-Dhahabī, Dhayl al-ʿibar iv, 153. Meinecke, Mamlukische Architektur i, 109ff and ii, 199; Wulzinger and Watzinger, Damaskus 44; Sauvaget, Monuments 70; Burns, Damascus 125. The inscription carved into the monolithic entrance lintel is a royal decree that post-dates the period of the patron (Gaube, Arabische no. 126; cf. Chevedden, Review 163).

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team to adopt the desired features, including a few “exotic” elements? Or did the patron, Afrīdūn, employ building professionals with previous experience in Cairo, Aleppo, or other centers to assist local builders in the construction of his Damascus foundation? And if so, did he summon them from elsewhere or had they migrated to Damascus independently, in search of work? One place to search for clues about mechanisms of this kind would be in a signatory inscription, and fortunately one has been preserved on the façade of Afrīdūn’s building. It occupies a relatively prominent position, on the central unit of a row of niches constituting the base of the muqarnas transition below the portal recess hood (Fig. 3.3.). However, like many architecture-related signatures, this one does not include a professional title, although it does provide an intriguing nickname for the maker; and like most, it does not detail the parts of the construction for which the individual named was responsible. Nor does it include a place-specific nisba, which one encounters from time to time in such signatory name formulations. The signatory inscription simply gives the name: “Aḥmad ibn Muḥammad known as (yuʿrafu bi-) Ibn Imraʾat al-ʿArīf.”48 Unfortunately, the name provided here does not correspond to signatures on any other buildings, as far as we know, or to figures named in biographical literature of the period. Thus, the content of the signature inscription does not explicitly link the maker to a locality, a biographical context, or an architectural corpus. Nevertheless, in his analysis of Afrīdūn’s monument, Meinecke attempts to reconstruct a professional profile for Aḥmad. According to his hypothesis, Aḥmad is a Damascus-school architect and is responsible for overseeing a team of professionals specializing in architectonic devices of other localities. However, this was not simply a question of a fixed, local workshop incorporating a couple of new specialists into their midst. Here is where “the story” gets complicated. It had been around a quarter-century since a monument in Damascus had incorporated the supposedly Damascene feature of full-façade ablaq masonry, even though during that time span many monuments—some of them fairly ambitious—had been erected in the city. How should the disappearance, and then reappearance, of this feature be accounted for? Reading Afrīdūn’s use of ablaq from the perspective of a long durée survey of pre-modern Damascus architecture, it would represent continuity with a time-honored local building tradition that capitalized on regionally accessible, bi-chrome stone and that appears in continuous use since at least the Zangid period.49 However, reading it from the closer, local vantage point of Mamluk Damascus, it might rather be considered a revival of an earlier tradition—since (as mentioned earlier) its use here occurs for the first time in nearly twenty-five years. A hint that the building’s full-façade ablaq stood out in its own day comes

48 49

Chevedden, Review 163. Allen, Pisa; Creswell, Muslim Architecture of Egypt ii, 149–58.

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from Ibn Kathīr: in his very brief obituary for Afrīdūn, he makes a point of stating that “its walls are of colored stones (al-ḥijāra al-mulawwana).”50 On the other hand, when viewed from a regional perspective encompassing monument construction not only in Damascus but throughout the Mamluk realm—a perspective which Meinecke’s corpus affords—the presence of the ablaq façade at Afrīdūn’s building indicates a more complex process. According to this process, even the use in Damascus of a feature with as long and storied a local provenance as ablaq façade construction reveals a pattern of makers’ mobility—a pattern less apparent when seen just from the viewpoint of Damascene building history. To explore this pattern, we might first consider the feature in connection with its possible modes of transmission. As an architectural idea, ablaq masonry could be easily transmitted in words (whether oral or written).51 In theory, the visual impact of this architectural idea could have been captured in a two-dimensional illustration, had words not sufficed. However, in architectural practice, it appears that large-scale ablaq facades entailed more than a concept: they also required—or, at least, were best undertaken by—specialized masons experienced in managing the stereometric challenges inherent to the task. While the information in historical sources about builders’ practices and training is scant, Terry Allen’s meticulous studies of Syrian masonry support the notion that specialization was required to efficiently and effectively implement full-scale ablaq facades.52 Another prerequisite for a largescale ablaq façade would be a supply of good-quality stone of two, contrasting colors. Damascus met this criterion, with nearby sources of pinkish and blonde limestone and black basalt. At this point, it is illustrative to recall a well-known related episode in earlier history: al-Nāṣir Muḥammad’s requisition of a Damascene team of stone-builders to construct a palace at the Cairo citadel inspired by the visual memory of Baybars’s Qaṣr al-Ablaq in Damascus. The eye-witness description of one of al-Nāṣir Muḥammad’s contemporaries, al-ʿUmarī, conveys an impression of the aesthetic impact of the Damascus Qaṣr al-Ablaq (now lost) and a qualitative assessment of its execution: “The outer wall, from top to bottom, is made of black and yellow stones arranged in such a way that a course of one colour is followed by a course of another colour. The work has been executed with admirable skill and symmetry.”53 To replicate these effects at the citadel in Cairo, it did not suffice for the sultan to issue an oral communication or written description to a Cairene building crew—even though ablaq masonry had already featured in Cairo at this point. Neither was it adequate to have construction drawings, models, or instructions sent from Damascus to Cairo; nor did the patron opt to send mem50 51 52 53

Ibn Kathīr, al-Bidāya xiv, 224. Rabbat, Design Without Representation, 151–2. Allen, Ayyubid Architecture, chapter 11. Quoted in Creswell, Muslim Architecture of Egypt ii, 157.

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bers of a Cairene building crew to Damascus to study the techniques of building masters there. Rather, he summoned building professionals from Damascus to Cairo to carry out the task54—in spite of the fact that the capital obviously had capable building professionals who could have used earlier extant examples of ablaq masonry in Cairo as models to implement the sultan’s vision, if that were all that was needed.55 This episode demonstrates that, at least in some cases, it was makers doing the moving—not just “ideas” or reproductions; and it also clearly refers to a team (or workshop) of makers, not just an individual master. This requisition could suggest that ablaq construction—at least ablaq construction of a standard fit for a king—required, or benefited from, specialized expertise that was not available in Cairo and that was not readily transferable by word or representation. While ablaq coursing might not match stone muqarnas vaulting or carved stone dome construction in terms of technical complexity, it would have constituted a specialized area of expertise. It was an expensive technique and its successful execution required considerable planning and coordination between building experts and multiple stone quarries, as Allen’s close analysis of Ayyubid ablaq has demonstrated. On the other hand, requisitioning this team from Damascus might have had less to do with an absence of expertise in Cairo than with the prestige associated with the act of commandeering talent from distant places or with the desirability of this particular team, perhaps because of a connection (real, assumed, or imagined) between it and the famous Damascene palace. Who were these experts, summoned from Damascus to Cairo to construct the palace emulating Baybars’s Qaṣr al-Ablaq? Al-Mufaḍḍal Ibn Abī al-Faḍāʾil describes them as a group of Christian stone workers (jamāʿa min almurakhkhimīn al-naṣārá).56 Although he does not provide a head-count, this is clearly not a case of an individual craftsman. What exactly was their profession? The term murakhkhimūn is interpreted in different ways by different scholars as marble workers, stone cutters, or masons—but given the fact that the chroniclers were themselves relatively unschooled in the building arts, it may be that their own use of such terminology lacked precision.57 The building experts sent to Cairo would have been barely a generation removed from those responsible for Baybars’s Qaṣr al-Ablaq, completed around fifty years earlier. Baybars’s team in Damascus included Ibrāhīm ibn Ghānim, the same individual whose name—along with the title al-muhandis—is inscribed on the portal muqarnas of the Mausoleum of Baybars, erected posthumously and completed in 1281.58 Given the familial 54 55 56 57 58

Rabbat, Citadel of Cairo 199–212. Creswell, Muslim Architecture of Egypt ii, 155f, 171ff. Blochet, Histoire 236–7. Rabbat, Architects and idem, Perception. Mayer, Islamic Architects 71.

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character of most professions in the medieval Near East and the material crafts in particular,59 it would not be surprising if the group summoned to Cairo for al-Nāṣir Muḥammad’s Qaṣr al-Ablaq included descendants of Ibrāhīm ibn Ghānim or his team. The question remains, however, what the precise specializations of the Damascene team-members were and how exclusive their expertise was. If one of the main strengths of this group was ablaq masonry, and if—as one might assume—the best Damascene practitioners of this technique had been called to Cairo, were there other builders left behind in Damascus capable of it? Considering how long this masonry technique had been employed in Damascus, wouldn’t its methods be widely understood and practiced? On the other hand, if the specialized masonry skills necessary for high-quality ablaq construction were concentrated in the hands of a few, the situation would not be without parallels in other crafts and other regions.60 A related question is explored in Terry Allen’s thoughtful essay on regional style published many years ago, in which he argues that architects and other artisans had “an incentive… to cultivate their own regional styles rather than synthesize, in order to maintain these styles as marketable commodities….”61 This is where Meinecke’s overview serves as a crucial tool: his chronology illustrates that during the time this group of Damascus masons was in Cairo, ablaq construction in Damascus halted; a few years later, it resumed with a series of commissions.62 Returning to Afrīdūn’s Damascus of the early 1340s, should the long absence of ablaq that preceded his construction be interpreted as a function of aesthetic choice or as a necessity, attesting the unavailability of ablaq experts? Should its reappearance in the repertoire of devices combined in Afrīdūn’s foundation be seen as the work of a fixed, local workshop reviving a distinctive Damascene style by returning to architectural features found in earlier buildings there? Or should it be seen as a return of a more literal kind? Taking into account the geographic patterns of usage for the device, the stereometric specialization required to implement it efficiently on a large scale, and the corroboration from literary sources (such as the episode cited above) reporting incidents of building teams on-the-move, it seems reasonable to attribute such exchange to the mobility of makers. At least for the period of the first half of the fourteenth century, the model of workshop mobility works well to explain the diffusion pattern of fullfaçade ablaq masonry throughout various urban centers of the Mamluk realm.

59 60 61 62

Behrens-Abouseif, Muhandis 308. Cf. Necipoğlu, Topkapı Scroll 22ff. Allen, Five Essays 108. Meinecke, Mamlukische Architektur i, 86–7.

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Each of the other novelties at Afrīdūn’s building could be explored with the same problem in mind: should its appearance be attributed to the movements of makers or to the mobility of visual ideas? And in answer to this question, each feature might tell its own story. For example, we might consider the implications of the presence of the vertical window recesses on Afrīdūn’s façade—a highly uncharacteristic feature for Damascus, and one rarely encountered outside of the Cairene building tradition (Fig. 3.2). Would this have required a Cairene builder or one experienced in building in the Cairene tradition? Or is this a feature that could have been transmitted via description or representation? Similar questions can be posed about the decorative device applied in bichrome marble inlay on portal recess at Afrīdūn’s monument (Fig. 3.4). Surmounting the inscribed lintel over the entrance is a joggled flat arch with black and white undulating voussoirs elaborated with spindly fleur-de-lis motifs. Above that band runs the joggled string course that runs across the entire façade. The entire height of the portal recess from that course almost up to the springing of the muqarnas hood is occupied by the square panel of interlaced bichrome inlay. Against a black ground, three interlaced white bands frame the panel, inside of which the design is based on a double square-on-point motif. On each side, the inner framing band turns into polylobed arches that merge with an interlaced rosette and ring of fleur-de-lis motifs that surrounds a small central opening. Foliate motifs—some fleur-de-lis and some palmette—fill the interstitial spaces between the geometric interlace. This decoration has no exact Damascene antecedents, although building professionals working in Damascus had made use of several other modes of marble intarsia revetment, including some executed in large-scale, two-tone designs.63 The strapwork design has correlates in the interlaced surrounds of circular oculus openings and spandrel zones already well-established in Ayyubid Syria and in use in many Mamluk urban centers, discussed by Herzfeld and others.64 Meinecke has proposed attributing the presence of Afrīdūn’s interlace panel to one of the out-of-town specialists overseen by the builder named in the signature inscription mentioned above, Aḥmad ibn Muḥammad. He even suggests a name and identification for this specialist: an individual who six years later constructed a mosque portal with a similar panel in Tripoli, which included an inscription providing not only his name, but also his professional title, and the extent of his involvement on the project: “… this blessed door and minbar are the work of master (al-muʿallim) Muḥammad ibn Ibrāhīm the architect (al-muhandis),

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One of the best known examples is at the Madrasa al-Ẓāhiriyya (676–79/1277–81), at which a rich selection of bichrome marble designs line the interior walls (see creswell.ashmus.ox.ac.uk for images). Herzfeld, Damascus ii 62, 70, and Damascus iii 16–7; Tabbaa, Constructions 118. This is the element Herzfeld dubs the “magic knot.” Its connotative potential remains to be understood, but for one theory, see Tabbaa, Transformation 155–62.

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in the year seven hundred and fifty-one (1350).”65 Based on further evidence from both the Damascus madrasa and the Tripoli mosque, Meinecke postulates Muḥammad ibn Ibrāhīm to be an Aleppo-trained specialist whose career path included stints in Cairo as well as these Syrian cities. More recently, in an in-depth discussion of this Tripoli building, Miriam Kühn has expressed doubt about Meinecke’s proposed attribution of the Damascus panel to Muḥammad ibn Ibrāhīm and more broadly to his “concept of itinerant craftsmen.”66 Finding closer correlates to his Tripoli works in contemporaneous architecture of additional centers within Bilād al-Shām (Gaza and Jerusalem), Kühn considers the itinerary necessary to rationalize this group of analogues as the works of one maker to be improbable. More broadly, she refutes Meinecke’s “attempt to personalize the motifs and decorations as representing the signature of the craftsman,” suggesting instead that the similarities of decoration result from choices made by the building patron, not maker mobility. This argument raises two key questions. The first has to do with career itineraries: this is a point to which I will return below. Secondly, are the two modes, patron choice and maker mobility, mutually exclusive? The conclusion that, ultimately, the visual solution arrived at in the Tripoli portal relates to a patronage decision is entirely consistent with what we understand about the mechanisms of patronage in the Mamluk period. Given the great sums sponsors were investing in such projects,67 the hierarchical nature of the social relationship between sponsor and maker in most cases, and the apparent interest that many sponsors and supervisors took in the details of their construction works,68 it is likely that in most cases “the buck stopped” with the patron, not the designer. However, the matter of Muḥammad ibn Ibrāhīm’s hypothetical corpus and more generally the questions of how and when to extrapolate a body of work based on comparanda appear unresolved. The decisionmaking role of the patron need not preclude the possibility of Muḥammad ibn Ibrāhīm or other professionals like him being a maker on-the-move; on the contrary, it could help explain their movements. Meinecke’s version of the mobile maker paradigm hinges partly on the extent to which specific architectonic features would have been the exclusive purview of particular makers or workshops. However, on this point, it may be difficult to generalize across time.69 Decorative elements (e.g., knotted spandrels) may have 65

66 67 68 69

Kühn, ʿAṭṭār Mosque 166, n. 37; Sobernheim, Matériaux 105; Mayer, Islamic Architects 96; Wiet et al., Répertoire xvi, 106 (no. 6158). Kühn, ʿAṭṭār Mosque 180–4. On building costs, see Behrens-Abouseif, Cairo of the Mamluks 47–8. Ibid. 15–20. Comparing the patronage mechanisms adopted by Tankiz al-Nāṣirī (Kenney, Power and Patronage) to other moments of Mamluk history, it seems that the “systems” vary based the individual interest and talents of the sponsor, those supervising the project, and the artisans

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originated as workshop hallmarks and functioned as such for a period of time, but later passed into general use. A workshop’s association with a special feature would not necessarily preclude the possibility that other enterprising makers might capably copy such a feature,70 that specialized workshops might “break up” with members peeling off to disseminate their techniques and designs in different places, or that specialized workshops would be capable of adjusting their traditions in response to new stimuli. The modality of makers on-the-move might also help explain some of the phasing in construction projects that have been noted by various scholars.71 Perhaps a patron or supervisor might erect most of a building and then wait for particular, sought-after specialists for the completion of a desired element to return to his city from their commission in another place. Conceivably, a patron might have even timed his building projects to coincide with the movements and availability of makers. How would Afrīdūn or his building supervisor have gone about assembling a building team? We have no particular reason to imagine that he had a special arrangement with the sultan in Cairo or the nāʾib in Damascus, to foster his building activity or furnish him with professionals, as al-Nāṣir Muḥammad had done for many of the elites of his day. However, a contemporary episode illustrates one way a building expert in one place might come to the attention of a patron or supervisor in another place in this new era of rapid turn-over and relocation at the amiral level, that might pertain for our merchant-patron as well. During his short rule as nāʾib al-Shām, the amir Sayf al-Dīn Ṭuquztimur al-Ḥamawī sent a marsūm to a long-time local ruler in Lebanon, Nāṣir al-Dīn Ḥusayn, ordering the reconstruction of a bridge across the River Dāmūr.72 Nāṣir al-Dīn responded by praising the nāʾib’s decision to order the rebuilding, describing the difficulty of the river’s topography, providing a brief history of earlier bridges across the river, and making suggestions to ensure the success of the proposed new bridge.73 After warning the new nāʾib about the high cost of bridge construction and the inadvisability of imposing a corvée for its construction, he added the following recommendation: “In Tripoli, there is an engineer (muhandis) who is an expert in coastal works called Abū Bakr ibn al-Baṣīṣ al-Baʿalbakkī; it was he who built at Nahr al-Kalb and other major projects in the Tripoli region.” Indeed, Ibn al-Baṣīṣ is credited with at least one of Beirut’s Mamluk-period wall towers and signed his name on

70

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involved. See, for example, Meinecke, Mamlukische Architektur i, 88, on the Madrasa of Almalik Jūkāndār in Jerusalem (740/1340). For example, see the discussion surrounding the 746/1345 Mosque of Aslam al-Silāḥdār (Behrens-Abouseif, Cairo of the Mamluks 185–7, and Karim, Mosque). Sources for Tuquztimur are listed in van Steenbergen, Mamluk Elite 199. Ṣāliḥ ibn Yaḥyá, Tārīkh Bayrūt 103–4.

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the congregational mosque in Tripoli known as Jāmiʿ al-ʿAṭṭār, mentioned above.74 In this manner, a newly appointed governor in the provincial capital learns of a skilled practitioner based in a distant city with building experience at a few different sites in the region. One can easily imagine that a successful completion of the new Dāmūr River bridge might result in Ibn al-Baṣīṣ being summoned to Damascus or elsewhere to display his talents farther afield. In Afrīdūn’s case, might his own career as a merchant have brought him into contact with various regional architectural styles and their most iconic monuments, and perhaps also led to the development of contacts with building professionals working other places?75 As a wealthy merchant, with his own roots somewhere in the Persian world, he would likely have been well traveled. As someone whose fortune derived from exchange, Afrīdūn would have been no stranger to the idea of importing special labor. Perhaps his employment of makers who specialized in architectural devices drawn from diverse building traditions reflects his own experience of mobility between the capital and centers in Bilād al-Shām. Such reflection of a patron’s mobility in the assembly of a project team and in the resulting architecture mirrors a process we might also look for in the patronage patterns of building sponsors from the amiral class: amirs also appear to have been very much on-the-move, in their military and administrative careers. We can also point to an interesting case of an intermediary on-the-move: an episode reported to have occurred towards the end of this period perhaps points to an alternative mode of exchange. When Sultan al-Ṣāliḥ Ismāʿīl wanted to add a magnificent structure at the citadel, he drew inspiration from Abū al-Fidāʾ’s Hama palace, known as alduhaysha, and sent a team led by his building supervisor and an architect on a study tour to survey the Hama building.76 This example demonstrates a parallel in terms of receptivity and inspiration, but a difference in the exchange mechanism. This account, like other literary descriptions of makers moving from one place to another, supports the impression that most such moves would have been undertaken “on commission” rather than “on spec.” Makers moving on commission, especially those working as a team, would presumably be well positioned to hit the ground running in a new city. Indeed the rapid relocations that Meinecke’s attributions suggest are more consistent with a maker moving in response to being beckoned or dispatched by a patron or supervisor for a specific task, than with the image of a migratory free-lancer.77 However, the representation of makers’ movements in literary sources may be skewed, since most of the chroniclers’ accounts focus on the actions of the military, civilian, and scholarly elite. If building profes74 75

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Mayer, Islamic Architects 37; Salam-Liebich, Architecture 71. For a general discussion of the contribution of merchants as building patrons in Mamluk Cairo, see Behrens-Abouseif, Cairo of the Mamluks 22–3. Kahil, Architect/s 170–3. Rogers, Architectural History 49ff.

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sionals were moving around “on spec,” we would not necessarily hear about it from the likes of Ibn Kathīr and al-Ṣafadī. As for the complication of his proposed itineraries, there are several points to be made. Rigorous travel schedules characterize the careers of many kinds of professionals in the Mamluk period: people from all walks of life were indeed onthe-move.78 In some cases, we see the duration of travel time being expedited. For example, around 728/1328, to complete the Qanāt al-ʿArūb in Jerusalem the nāʾib al-Shām in Damascus sent manpower and tasked a Damascus-based amir, Sayf alDīn Quṭlūbak ibn Qarāsunqur, with administering the project. When the work there was finished, Quṭlūbak and his team of workers were immediately summoned by the sultan to Cairo to work on the aqueduct serving the citadel, and were ordered to travel on the barīd road to speed their arrival.79 The supposed inefficiency of such trans-regional movements might well have been offset by the efficiency of the workshops themselves in their labors, and the reliability of their tried-and-true methods compared with the experimental, trial-and-error approaches that might have to be adopted by makers unfamiliar with working in a particular technique or executing a made-to-order design. Furthermore, Mamlukperiod builders excelled in speedy construction and this may have contributed to the quick turnaround that Meinecke’s itineraries sometimes suggest.80 Conclusion Makers and workshops on-the-move constitute only one mechanism of transmission in the migration of architectural motifs, forms, and techniques from one place to another. In reconstructing design processes of the Mamluk period, a “yes, and…” approach might best settle the debate posed in the introduction to this essay. Accepting Meinecke’s mobile workshops model need not preclude integrating other means of design exchange, such as oral descriptions, two-dimensional representations, or models. Nor ought it eclipse the role of building patrons and supervisors in shaping these processes. Not only individual experts but also teams, or workshops, of building professionals moved about from one city to another, as did their patrons and supervisors,81 reflecting the mobility of Mamluk society.82 Rather than moving “on spec,” both individuals and workshops would have moved by invitation or on command. As point of inquiry, interrogating the role of maker mobility in the exchange of architectural ideas is more about “how?” than about “why?” and “so 78 79 80 81 82

Petry, Travel Patterns and idem, Travel Patterns Reconsidered; Walker, Mobility. Kenney, Power and Patronage 85–9. Behrens-Abouseif, Cairo of the Mamluks 45. Kahil, Architect/s. Petry, Travel Patterns.

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what?” Artistic exchange across Mamluk space and time is empirically evident and much of it can be attributed to makers on-the-move, mainly at the behest of their supervisors or patrons. The mobile maker paradigm helps explain how certain architectonic features come and go from the repertoire of a given city, but it does not replace the vision of the patron or supervisor as the main force shaping the ultimate outcome. Whether such exchanges were driven by aesthetics or hermeneutics is still another question.83 In the few cases in which the chroniclesources explicitly mention maker mobility, it is usually in connection with a patron’s desire to achieve a certain architectural effect or level of workmanship. This ties in with an idea that Terry Allen has theorized in connection with Ayyubid patrons. He proposes that architectural styles can be compared with commodities—both, he argues, are “luxury goods” to be acquired, transferred, and displayed.84 Indeed, Behrens-Abouseif echoes this point with respect to her discussion of “foreign influences” in the architecture of Mamluk Cairo, saying: “Like collector’s items they displayed the patrons’ international vision and aspirations of originality.”85 Perhaps these Wanderwerkstätten themselves can be considered luxury goods in a similar way. Returning to the case of Afrīdūn and his monument in Damascus, we might consider whether Afrīdūn hired an interregional building team not just for the visual impact of these novel architectural devices at his building in Damascus but also as a way of projecting something about his own identity and social standing as a cosmopolitan merchant with interests, both economic and cultural, on a larger stage. Circling back to Baxandall’s framework, disengaging from the paradigm of influence—even belatedly—and exploring one of exchange instead helps establish bases for the next order of inquiry—that of “patterns of intention.”

83 84 85

For a recent encapsulation of the current debate on this question, see Tabbaa, Originality 190f. Allen, Concept of Regional Style 109. Behrens-Abouseif, Cairo of the Mamluks 65.

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Fig. 3.1. Floor plan of the Funerary Madrasa of Afrīdūn, Damascus, 1344 CE (© N. Rabbat / Aga Khan Program for Islamic Architecture, MIT; drawn by Saeed Arida).

Fig. 3.2. Façade of the Funerary Madrasa of Afrīdūn, Damascus, 1344 CE (© Ross Burns)

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Fig. 3.3. Portal hood of the Funerary Madrasa of Afrīdūn, Damascus, 1344 CE (© Ross Burns)

Fig. 3.4. Portal detail of the Funerary Madrasa of Afrīdūn, Damascus, 1344 CE (© Daniel Demeter)

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Bibliography

Published Sources Al-Dhahabī, Dhayl al-ʿibar fī khabar man ghabar (701–764 H.), ed. A.M. Zaghlūl, Beirut 1985. Ibn Ḥajar al-ʿAsqalānī, al-Durar al-kāmina fī aʿyān al-miʾa al-thāmina, ed. H. alNadawi, 4 vols., Beirut 1993. Ibn Iyās, Journal d’un bourgeois du Caire: chronique d’Ibn Iyâs, ed. and trans. Gaston Wiet, Paris 1960. Ibn Kathīr, al-Bidāya wa-l-nihāya, 16 vols., Cairo 1932–9. Al-Nuʿaymī, al-Dāris fī tārīkh al-madāris, ed. J. al-Ḥasanī, 2 vols., Damascus 1948. Ṣāliḥ ibn Yaḥyá, Tārīkh Bayrūt, ed. F. Hours and K.S. Salibi, Beirut 1969.

References ʿAbd al-Wahhāb, Ḥ., Tawqīʿāt al-ṣunnāʿ ʿalá āthār Miṣr al-islāmiyya, in Bulletin de l’Institut d’Égypte 36 (1953–4), 533–58. Abdel Barr, O., L’art urbain du Caire mamlouk: manières de faire et enjeux sociaux, Ph.D. diss., Aix-en-Provence 2015. Abdulfattah, I.R., From Behind the Scenes: Amir Sanjar al-Shujāʿī’s Involvement in Building the Complex of Qalawūn, Lecture, Third Conference of the School of Mamlūk Studies, University of Chicago, June 24, 2016. ———, The Biography of a Building: New Light on the Construction Narrative of the Complex of Qalawun in Cairo, Lecture, American Research Center in Egypt, Cairo, September 28, 2016. ———, Amir ʿAlam al-Dīn Sanjar al-Shujāʿī: His Illustrious Life and Dramatic Demise, Annemarie Schimmel Kolleg Working Paper. https://www.mamluk.uni-bonn.de/publications/working-paper/ask-wp-25-abdulfattah (accessed November 30, 2017). Allen, T., Ayyubid Architecture, Occidental, CA 1999. http://www.sonic.net/ ~tallen/palmtree/ayyarch/ (accessed January 29, 2017). ———, The Concept of Regional Style, in Five Essays on Islamic Art, Sebastopol, CA 1988, 91–110.

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———, Pisa and the Dome of the Rock, Occidental, CA 2008. http://www.sonic.net/~tallen/palmtree/pisa.dor.htm (accessed January 29, 2017). Amin, M.M., and L. Ibrahim, Architectural Terms in Mamluk Documents, Cairo 1990. El-Bahnasi, S.A., Mamluk Art: The Splendour and Magic of the Sultans, Madrid 2001. Baxandall, M., Patterns of Intention: On the Historical Explanation of Pictures, New Haven and London 1985. Behrens-Abouseif, D., Cairo of the Mamluks: A History of the Architecture and Its Culture, London 2007. ———, Craftsmen, Upstarts and Sufis in the Late Mamluk Period, in Bulletin of the School of Oriental and African Studies 74, no. 3 (2011), 375–95. ———, European Arts and Crafts at the Mamluk Court, in Muqarnas 21 (2004), 1–13. ———, Mamluk Perceptions of Foreign Arts, in D. Behrens-Abouseif (ed.), Arts of the Mamluks in Egypt and Syria—Evolution and Impact, Göttingen 2012, 301–18. ———, Muhandis, Shad, Muʿallim—Note on the Building Craft in the Mamluk Period, in Der Islam 72, no. 2 (1995), 293–309. ———, Practising Diplomacy in the Mamluk Sultanate: Gifts and Material Culture in the Medieval Islamic World, London 2014. ———, Qaytbay’s Madrasahs in the Holy Cities and the Evolution of Haram Architecture, in Mamlūk Studies Review 3 (1999), 129–47. ———, Review of Die Mamlukische Architektur in Ägypten und Syrien (648/1250 bis 923/1517), by Michael Meinecke, in Mamlūk Studies Review 1 (1997), 122–7. ———, Review of Patterns of Stylistic Changes in Islamic Architecture: Local Traditions Versus Migrating Artists, by Michael Meinecke, in Bulletin of the School of Oriental and African Studies 61, no. 1 (1998), 136–7. Blair, Sh., and J. Bloom, Signatures on Works of Islamic Art and Architecture, in Damaszener Mitteilungen 11 (1999), 49–66. Bleichmar, D., and M. Martin (eds.), Objects in Motion in the Early Modern World, Special issue, Art History 38, no. 4 (2015). Blochet, E., ed. and trans., “Moufazzal Ibn Abil-Fazaïl: Histoire des sultans Mamlouks (III): Texte arabe publié et traduit en français”, in Patrologia Orientalis 20 (1929), 1-270.

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Bloom, J.M., Mamluk Art and Architecture History: A Review Article, in Mamlūk Studies Review 3 (1999), 31–58. ———, Review of Die Mamlukische Architektur in Ägypten und Syrien (648/1250 bis 923/1517), by Michael Meinecke, in Journal of the Society of Architectural Historians 54, no. 1 (1995), 108–9. Burgoyne, M., Mamlūk Jerusalem: An Architectural Study, Jerusalem 1987. Burns, R., Damascus: A History, London and New York 2005. Conermann, S. (ed.), Everything is on the Move: The Mamluk Empire as a Node in (Trans-) Regional Networks, Bonn 2014. Chevedden, P.E., Review of Arabische Inschriften aus Syrien, by Heinz Gaube, in Journal of Near Eastern Studies 45, no. 2 (1986), 161–4. Creswell, K.A.C., Early Muslim Architecture, 2 vols., Oxford 1969. ———, The Muslim Architecture of Egypt, 2 vols., Oxford 1952–9. DaCosta Kaufmann, Th., C. Dossin, and B. Joyeux-Prunel, Circulations in the Global History of Art, Farnham 2015. Elbendary, A., Egypt and Syria in the Fifteenth Century: The View from Below, Lecture, American Research Center in Cairo, March 30, 2016. Finster, B., Craftsmen and Groups of Craftsmen in the First Centuries of Islam, trans. Gwendolin Goldbloom, in M.G. Morony (ed.), Manufacturing and Labour, Farnham 2003, 199–210. Gaube, H., Arabische Inschriften aus Syrien, Beirut 1978. Ghabin, A., Ḥisba, Arts and Craft in Islam, Wiesbaden 2009. Gruber, Ch. (ed.), Islamic Architecture on the Move, Special issue, International Journal of Islamic Architecture 3, no. 2 (2014). Haarmann, U.W., Yeomanly Arrogance and Righteous Rule: Faẓl Allāh ibn Rūzbihān Khunjī and the Mamluks of Egypt, in K. Eslami (ed.), Iran and Iranian Studies: Essays in Honor of Iraj Afshar, Princeton 1998, 109–24. Haase, C.-P., Probleme der Künstlerkonzentration unter Timur in Zentralasien, in A.J. Gail (ed.), Künstler und Werkstatt in den orientalischen Gesellschaften, Graz 1982, 61–73. al-Harithy, H., The Patronage of al-Nāṣir Muḥammad ibn Qalāwūn, 1310–1341, in Mamlūk Studies Review 4 (2000), 219–44. Herzfeld, E., Damascus: Studies in Architecture, ii, in Ars Islamica 10 (1943), 13– 70. ———, Damascus: Studies in Architecture, iii, in Ars Islamica 11–2 (1946), 1–

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71. Ibrahim, L.ʿA., The Great Ḫānqāh of the Emir Qawṣūn in Cairo, in Mitteilungen des Deutschen Archeologische Instituts Abteilung Kairo 30 (1974), 37–64. Kahil, A., The Architect/s of the Sultan Ḥasan Complex in Cairo, in Artibus Asiae 66, no. 2 (2006), 155–74. ———, The Sultan Hasan Complex in Cairo 1357–1364, Ph.D. diss., New York University 2002. ———, The Sultan Hasan Complex in Cairo, 1357–1364: A Case Study in the Formation of Mamluk Style, Würzburg 2008. Karim, C., The Mosque of Aṣlam al-Bahāʾī al-Silaḥdār (746/1345), in Annales Islamologiques 24 (1988), 233–53. Kenney, E., Power and Patronage in Medieval Syria: The Architecture and Urban Works of Tankiz al-Nāṣirī, Chicago 2009. Krautheimer, R., Introduction to an ‘Iconography of Mediaeval Architecture,’ in Journal of the Warburg and Courtauld Institutes 5 (1942), 1–33. Kühn, M., The ʿAṭṭār Mosque in Tripoli, in Mamlūk Studies Review 12, no. 2 (2008), 159–96. Little, D.P., Notes on Aitamiš, a Mongol Mamlūk, in U. Haarmann and P. Bachmann (eds.),, Die islamische Welt zwischen Mittelalter und Neuzeit: Festschrift für Hans Robert Roemer, zum 65. Geburtstag, Wiesbaden 1979, 387–401. Mayer, L.A., Islamic Architects and Their Works, Geneva 1956. Meinecke, M., Mamluk Architecture: Regional Architectural Traditions: Evolutions and Interrelations, in Damaszener Mitteilungen 2 (1985), 163–75. ———, Die Mamlukische Architektur in Ägypten und Syrien (648/1250 bis 923/1517), Glückstadt 1992. ———, Patterns of Stylistic Changes in Islamic Architecture: Local Traditions Versus Migrating Artists, New York 1996. ———, Zur sogenannten Anonymität der Künstler im islamischen Mittelalter, in A.J. Gail (ed.), Künstler und Werkstatt in den orientalischen Gesellschaften, Graz 1982, 31–45. Necipoğlu, G., The Topkapı Scroll: Geometry and Ornament in Islamic Architecture, Santa Monica, CA 1995. O’Kane, B., Timurid Architecture in Khurasan, Costa Mesa, CA 1987. Petry, C.F., Travel Patterns of Medieval Notables in the Near East, in Studia Islamica 62 (1985), 53–87.

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———, ‘Travel Patterns of Medieval Notables in the Near East’ Reconsidered: Contrasting Trajectories, Interconnected Networks, in S. Conermann (ed.), Everything is on the Move: The Mamluk Empire as a Node in (Trans-) Regional Networks, Bonn 2014, 165–79. Rabbat, N., Architects and Artists in Mamluk Society: The Perspective of the Sources, in Journal of Architectural Education 52, no. 1 (1998), 30–7. ———, The Cidadel of Cairo: A New Interpretation of Royal Mamluk Architecture, Leiden 1995. ———, Design without Representation in Medieval Egypt, in Muqarnas 25 (2008), 147–54. ———, Perception of Architecture in Mamluk Sources, in Mamlūk Studies Review 6 (2000), 155–76. Rogers, J.M., Architectural History as Literature: Creswell’s Reading and Methods, in Muqarnas 8 (1991), 45–54. ———, Court Workshops under the Bahri Mamluks, in D. Behrens-Abouseif (ed.), The Arts of the Mamluks in Egypt and Syria–Evolution and Impact, Göttingen 2012, 247–66. ———, The State and the Arts in Ottoman Turkey Part 1: The Stones of Suleymaniye, in International Journal of Middle East Studies 14, no. 1 (1982), 71– 86. ———, The Uses of Anachronism on Cultural and Methodological Diversity in Islamic Art: An Inaugural Lecture Delivered on 17 October 1991, London 1994. ———, Waqf and Patronage in Seljuk Anatolia: The Epigraphic Evidence, in Anatolian Studies 26 (1976), 69–103. Sabra, A., From Artisan to Courtier: Sufism and Social Mobility in Fifteenth-Century Egypt, in R.E. Margariti, A. Sabra, and P.M. Sijpesteijn (eds.), Histories of the Middle East: Studies in Middle Eastern Society, Economy and Law in Honor of A. L. Udovitch, Leiden 2011, 213–32. Sack, D., Damaskus: Entwicklung und Struktur einer orientalischen Stadt, Mainz 1989. Sadek, M.M., Die mamlukische Architektur der Stadt Gaza, Berlin 1991. Salam-Liebich, H., The Architecture of the Mamluk City of Tripoli, Cambridge, MA 1983. Sauvaget, J., Les monuments historiques de Damas, Beirut 1932. Sobernheim, M., Matériaux pour un Corpus Inscriptionum Arabicarum: Deux-

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ième partie: Syrie du Nord I: ʿAkkâr, Ḥiṣn al-Akrād, Tripoli, Cairo 1909. Tabbaa, Y., Constructions of Power and Piety in Medieval Aleppo, University Park 1997. ———, Originality and Innovation in Syrian Woodwork of the Twelfth and Thirteenth Centuries, in D.J. Talmon-Heller and K. Cytryn-Silverman (eds.), Material Evidence and Narrative Sources: Interdisciplinary Studies of the History of the Muslim Middle East, Leiden 2014, 185–215. ———, The Transformation of Islamic Art during the Sunni Revival, Seattle 2001. Taymūr, A, al-Muhandisūn fī al-ʿaṣr al-islāmī, Cairo [1979]. Thackston, W.M., Arzadasht, in Century of Princes: Sources on Timurid History and Art, Cambridge 1989, 323–7. Van Steenbergen, J., Mamluk Elite on the Eve of al-Nāṣir Muḥammad’s Death (1341): A Look Behind the Scenes of Mamluk Politics, in Mamlūk Studies Review 9, no. 2 (2005), 173–99. ———, The Office of Naʾib as-Saltana of Damascus: 741–784/1341–1382, a Case Study, in U. Vermeulen and J. van Steenbergen (eds.), Egypt and Syria in the Fatimid, Ayyubid and Mamluk Eras III. Proceedings of the 6th, 7th and 8th International Colloquium organized at the Katholieke Universiteit Leuven in May 1997, 1998 and 1999, Leuven 2001, 429–48. Vigouroux, É., Damas après Tamerlan: étude historique et archéologique d’une renaissance (1401–1481), Ph.D. thesis, Université Paris-Sorbonne 2011. Walker, B.J., Ceramic Evidence for Political Transformation in Early Mamluk Egypt, in Mamlūk Studies Review 8, no. 1 (2004), 1–114. ———, Mobility and Migration in Mamluk Syria: The Dynamism of Villagers ‘on the Move,’ in Stephan Conermann (ed.), Everything is on the Move: The Mamluk Empire as a Node in (Trans-) Regional Networks, Bonn 2014, 325–48. Wiet, G., N. Elisséeff, and D.S. Rice, Répertoire chronologique d’épigraphie arabe, vols. 15–16, Cairo 1964. Wulzinger, K., and C. Watzinger, Damaskus, die islamische Stadt, Berlin 1924.

NEW INQUIRIES INTO ARTISTIC EXCHANGE AS SEEN IN MAMLUK AND ILKHANID ILLUMINATED MANUSCRIPT PRODUCTION Adeline LACLAU

The historiography of the exchanges between Mamluks and Ilkhanids is very uneven. While political relations have been subject to numerous publications and are very well documented,1 the artistic interactions between the dynasties are still barely known, and references on this subject are often scattered. The first indications about transfers of artistic models from Ilkhanid to Mamluk territories were brought to light in 1972 by J. M. Rogers, who also underlined the absence of reciprocity in these exchanges.2 The aim of his study was to understand by which ways artistic contributions from Iran or Iraq were being introduced in Syrian and Egyptian productions. He also questioned the Mamluk taste for Ilkhanid art in the context of war.3 In his view, transportable objects made in Iran, rather than the work of Iranian craftsmen in Egypt, were responsible for the decisive impact of Ilkhanid art on Mamluk artistic production.4 He came to the conclusion that Mamluk art produced between 1259 and 1360 does not suggest the presence of Persian 1

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Among valuable recent publications on this subject, see for instance: Amitai-Preiss, Mongols and Mamluks; Broadbridge, Mamluk Legitimacy, and idem, Kingship and Ideology; Northrup, The Baḥrī Mamlūk Sultanate; Prezbindowski, Ilkhānid Mongols. Rogers, Mamluk-Mongol Relations 386. This remark is based on the large quantity of Mamluk objects reflecting the taste for Ilkhanid arts which notably characterized the Bahri period, while few Mamluk works of art produced between the thirteenth and the beginning of the fourteenth century are preserved in Iran. Ibid. 387. The author focused his study on the period between 1259, corresponding to the battle of ʿAyn Jālūt, and 1360. Based on the study of several Mamluk objects, he pointed out that the artistic dependence of Egypt could be divided into two phases: first, the imitation of isolated Persian works; second, from 1320 onwards, a real taste for Mongol art (like chinoiseries, peonies, lotuses, etc.) becomes visible on all forms. He underlined that chinoiseries were used in Iran in the thirteenth century but they later appeared in Egypt, and that the method of their transmission and how they arrived still remain to determine. Ibid. 388. For him, the refugees would not have played a large part in the transfer of artistic models, or only for fortuitous transmissions. This conclusion leans in particular on the example of the Hamadan Quran created in 713/1313 for the Ilkhanid ruler Ūljāytū and bequeathed by a Mamluk amir to his madrasa in 726/1326 (Cairo, DAK MS 72). According to Rogers, this Quran could have left Iran via the numerous diplomatic exchanges between the two countries which preceded the Aleppo peace, or more probably during the embassy sent by the Mamluks to the Ilkhanid court in 1325; it would thus have played an important role in the introduction of Ilkhanid elements in the Mamluk arts.

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craftsmen in Egypt, but instead local work conditioned by a taste for Ilkhanid arts, as well as objects probably imported by diplomatic means or international trade.5 Later, several historians mentioned the role of migrants fleeing from the Mongol invasions and combat zones,6 or taking advantage of the reopening of borders and the Silk Road after the 1322 peace treaty, who would be responsible for the integration of new elements, most of them spreading from the Ilkhanid decorative fourteenth, in Mamluk artistic production.7 Though these remarks are quite interesting, they are based on no in-depth study of the sources or material available, and thus require further inquiry. Regarding manuscript production, questions about model transfers and means of circulation shared by both territories were the aim of a study published by David James in 1988, dedicated to the artistic links between Mamluk and Ilkhanid Qurans. Indeed, the end of the thirteenth and beginning of the fourteenth century is generally characterized by the integration of several significant artistic changes in both territories, marking a new start in manuscript production and an important stage in the history of the arts of the book in the Muslim world. In his monograph, James focused on a pure stylistic approach on illuminations and only took into account royal copies produced in both territories. He also underlined the circulation of objects and manuscripts from one territory to the other, the mobility of craftsmen, and the integration of several illumination patterns in the Mamluk ornamental repertory. These phenomena seem to be independent from the political events quoted earlier.8 James’s publication has undoubtedly raised new and inter5

6

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Ibid. 398–9. Concerning the importation of objects, the author pointed out the potential role of embassies allowing the transmissions of Persian prototypes. However, he underlined that Persian artifacts were few and their periods of maximum frequency are not concomitant with those where Persian art is the most visible in Mamluk production. Moreover, Rogers also pointed out that during periods of hostility between the powers, international trade was not impacted. Though commercial activities were more intense with the West, transactions also continued with the East, even during Mongol military campaigns in Syria. Lapidus, Mamluk Patronage 174. The author mentions the role of refuge that Mamluk Egypt and Syria held towards scholars, craftsmen, and traders coming from Muslim territories in conflict, which allowed the introduction of stylistic elements from Anatolia, Mesopotamia, and the Maghreb. He especially noted the use of techniques and patterns belonging to the ornamental vocabulary developed in major urban centers of Iraq and Iran under Ilkhanid domination. Ibid. 175; Irwin, The Middle East 119. According to Irwin, the peace only became effective in 1328. From this moment, the Ilkhanid artistic elements would have transited by means of embassy or trade and migrants coming from the south of Iraq and from Iran. In spite of the treaty signed in 1322, the relations between the dynasties remained tense, in particular until 727/1327–28; al-Nāṣir Muḥammad supported the governor of Anatolia, Timūrtāsh, who rebelled against Abū Saʿīd. It is thus not until the exchange of embassies in 1328 and the borders reopening to the market that the peace was really effective. James, Qurʾāns, chapter 6. For instance, from James’s stylistic analysis, it seems that most of the elements spreading from Ilkhanid arts appear in Mamluk manuscripts only from the 1340s,

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esting information and hypotheses about the nature of artistic transfers between Ilkhanid and Mamluk manuscripts. However, it barely touched on the question of the contexts in which books or craftsmen were circulating; some of these, like trade or diplomatic missions, were suggested by the scholars previously mentioned but still required additional arguments and studies. Moreover, James’s conclusions are quite limited, notably because of the lack of codicological study. Aside from the style of the illuminations, we can find several other common elements between the two productions, such as the increasing size of manuscripts or structures of illuminations, which may enable us to discover new information on the artistic exchanges between Mamluks and Ilkhanids. Based on a new approach to Mamluk illuminated manuscripts, the aim of this article is to deepen the previous hypotheses and statements regarding the mobility of artists and craftsmen and the circulation of manuscripts between Ilkhanid and Mamluk territories. This research is enhanced by recent studies led by Donald Little and Doris Behrens-Abouseif on exchanges of diplomatic gifts between the two territories,9 but also by those on the arts of the Ilkhanid book conducted by Nourane Ben Azzouna and Frantz Chaigne.10 Using information supplied by Mamluk sources and the stylistic study led by James on book illuminations, the first part of this article will establish the historical, political, and social contexts linked to the circulation of craftsmen and books between territories. The second part will focus on the study of the manuscripts’ sizes and the formal variations in the geometrical structures of illuminations. It will present how such study reveals new information about elements shared by both territories: their nature, their appearance, or their mode of adoption. For this part, because of the subject and the methodology used, I had to restrict the material to Mamluk illuminated manuscripts dated between 704–5/1304–6 and the end of the fourteenth century— or attributable to this period11—and to those I had the opportunity to see or about which I could obtain the needed information.12

9 10

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long after the signature of the peace treaty and the collapse of the Ilkhanid dynasty. Little, Notes; Behrens-Abouseif, Practising Diplomacy. Ben Azzouna, La production de manuscrits, and idem, La question des niveaux; Chaigne, L’enluminure. This chronology globally corresponds to the period in the course of which it is possible to identify elements stemming from the Ilkhanid arts of the book in Mamluk manuscripts. An analysis of a manuscript’s size and the geometrical structure of its illuminations necessitates direct contact with the manuscript, to observe the structure of its paper or to obtain its dimensions. For these reasons, the majority of the manuscripts which compose my corpus are preserved in the Dār al-Kutub (DAK, Cairo), the Bibliothèque Nationale de France (BNF, Paris), the British Library (BL, London), the Chester Beatty Library (CBL, Dublin), and the Khalili Collection. For the other manuscripts, I thank the curators and scholars for having supplied the needed information.

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The Context of Artistic Exchanges between Mamluk and Ilkhanid Manuscript Production: The Circulation of Manuscripts and Craftsmen Primary sources and modern studies highlight constant artistic exchange due to the circulation of objects and craftsmen between Ilkhanid and Mamluk territories, but little is known about initiatives or circumstances linked to this phenomenon. In order to achieve a study on the impact of Ilkhanid art on the production of Mamluk illuminated manuscripts, several contemporary political and social events must be considered, especially the role played by Mamluk patrons. The Circulation of Manuscripts: Between Diplomatic and Private Gifts, Specific Requests, and Book Trade Books are almost never mentioned as diplomatic gifts throughout the entire Mamluk period. Regarding exchanges with the Ilkhanids, there is only one such mention. As reported by al-Nuwayrī, a diplomatic meeting took place as a peace proposition from the Ilkhan Abū Saʿīd to the Mamluk Sultan al-Nāṣir Muḥammad in 1321. For this occasion, ambassadors arrived in Cairo with many special gifts, such as a ceremonial tent, several luxurious objects, the turban of Abū Saʿīd, and a Quran in sixty parts.13 In a similar way, other episodes mentioning the presence of a book among official offerings are all connected to specific occasions. By the end of the thirteenth century, and again in the middle of the fifteenth century, two Qurans allegedly written by the caliph ʿUthmān ibn ʿAffān were offered by Mamluk sultans. The first was sent by Sultan Baybars to honor the conversion to Islam of Berke Khan, ruler of the Golden Horde, as well as his alliance with the Mamluk sultan against the Ilkhanids;14 the second was offered by Sultan Jaqmaq to Murād II to celebrate Ottoman victories and consequent Islamic expansion in Christian regions.15 A last episode mentions Sultan Barsbāy offering several gifts, including a Quran, to the Āq Qoyunlū ruler so that he would swear allegiance to the Mamluk sultan.16 The rarity of books among diplomatic presents, especially those exported by Mamluks, prompted Behrens-Abouseif to wonder about the place granted to books in Mamluk times, as their number would not be as high as mod-

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Behrens-Abouseif, Practising Diplomacy 66 and 69. This manuscript does not seem to have been preserved. Ibid. 62. “An alliance between Berke and Baybars was celebrated by a special gift package sent with an embassy to the Golden Horde in 1263… The pièce de résistance of the gift package was a Quran manuscript penned by the caliph Uthmān b. Affān, wrapped in red gold-brocaded textile within a leather case lined with silk and included in a bow (kursī) made of ivory and ebony inlaid with silver and equipped with a silver lock and latch.” Ibid. 150; Muhanna, The Sultan’s New Clothes 192–3. Behrens-Abouseif, Practising Diplomacy 151.

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ern scholars estimate.17 If this question should be reconsidered, another hypothesis could be that these examples are mentioned because they are linked to events with a strong politico-religious symbolism, but books could have often been offered during such meetings. In other words, we could envisage that books were common gifts (at least for sultans and princes), so it was not necessary to mention them, except on these specific occasions. Several mentions of books offered as private gifts or tied to special requests are found in primary sources and seem to legitimate this hypothesis. For instance, at the end of the thirteenth century, Uzbak Khan, ruler of the Golden Horde, requested religious books from al-Nāṣir Muḥammad.18 During the fifteenth century, Sultan Jaqmaq sent books in response to a request from Shāh Rukh; among them were a copy of Ibn Ḥajar’s commentary on al-Bukhārī and a copy of al-Maqrīzī’s Sulūk.19 A Persian source mentions a specific request from the Mamluk sultan to the Timurid ruler. This last episode is striking because it implies that the Mamluk sultan in Cairo knew what the Herat library of the Timurid ruler held.20 Moreover, in the early fifteenth century, an anecdote reported by Ibn Khaldūn mentions his several meetings with Timur. For the first one, he was advised to choose a symbolic and personal gift to present to the Timurid ruler. He went to the book market in Damascus and bought a splendid Quran and a copy of al-Būṣīrī’s Burda, together with a prayer rug and Egyptian candies.21 If no information about private exchanges between Mamluks and Ilkhanids are available, these anecdotes and new analysis of some manuscripts could lead to other hypotheses on this practice. For example, two Ilkhanid Qurans, still preserved in Cairo, are known to have been bequeathed to Mamluk institutions. The first one is a thirtypart volume produced in Hamadan in 1313 for the Ilkhanid sultan Ūljāytū and bequeathed by the Mamluk amir Sayf al-Dīn Baktimur to his mausoleum in 726/1326 (Cairo, DAK MS 72). Each juzʾ in the manuscript had a colophon but only the last one was not overpainted when the Quran arrived in Cairo (the others are now inscribed with the name of Sultan al-Nāṣir Muḥammad). It records that 17

18 19 20

21

Ibid. 176. “Although the Mamlūks were keen to host foreign scholars on a large scale in their religious institutions, thus exerting their influence on the intellectual and religious life of the Muslim world, this aspect of their policy was not involved in their selection of diplomatic gifts.…From the perspective of the chroniclers, architecture and ceremonial spectacles with all the material culture they involved, were, beside the art of the book, the major artistic expressions of their time.” Broadbridge, Mamluk Legitimacy 135; Behrens-Abouseif, Practising Diplomacy 32. Behrens-Abouseif, Practising Diplomacy 32. Rettig, La production manuscrite à Chiraz 14. The author quotes this information from Khwandamīr, Ḥabīb al-siyar fī akhbār-e afrād-e bashar, ed. J. Humāʾī, 4 vols. (Tehran, 1914). Fischel, Ibn Khaldūn and Tamerlane; Behrens-Abouseif, Practising Diplomacy 72. When Tīmūr received presents, he raised the Quran over his head in a sign of worship, embraced the carpet, shared candies, and inquired about the meaning of al-Būṣīrī’s Burda.

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the manuscript was copied and illuminated in Hamadan during the reign of Ūljāytū, who probably commissioned the Quran for his mausoleum. We know nothing about this manuscript between its completion in 714/1313 and when it was bequeathed to the khānqāh of the Mamluk amir in 726/1326. The second one is a sixty-part Quran copied by Mubārak ibn ʿAbd Allāh, a pupil of Yāqūt alMustaʿṣimī, and endowed in 1356 by the Mamluk amir Ṣarghatmish to his madrasa. Though the particulars of their arrival in Cairo are unknown, the high quality of these manuscripts and the information given by the colophons and certificates of endowment suggest that they were manuscripts exchanged during a private meeting or after a personal request. However, for the Hamadan Quran, it is also necessary to note that it was first addressed to al-Nāṣir Muḥammad, probably as a diplomatic gift sent during one of the many embassies between Mamluk and Ilkhanid rulers in the 1320s, before it was offered to the amir Baktimur.22 Despite the rarity of manuscripts being mentioned in the sources, these observations suggest that circulation of books between territories was common, through diplomatic and, more probably, private channels. In a similar way, some other manuscripts bear no indication of endowment (or other information) but present specific characteristics that suggest they circulated between the two territories, and might have been connected to book-trading activities. This could be the case with a Quran known to have been copied by Yāqūt al-Mustaʿṣimī in 681/1282 in Baghdad, which is illuminated in a Mamluk style (with the addition of later Ottoman margins).23 The design of its frontispiece is similar to a Mamluk Quran copied in Cairo in 1334 (Cairo, DAK MS 81). It also shows a golden alternating palmette border decorated with tear-drop motifs similar to those found in the work of Ṣandal at the beginning of the fourteenth century. As underlined by James, several of these observations could be explained. This manuscript could be a Mamluk facsimile copied from an original Yāqūt Quran and illuminated in the Mamluk manner, but this would be the only one we know. The manuscript could also be an original from Yāqūt or, more likely, one of his pupils and embellished or decorated after its arrival in Cairo. Many patrons wanted to possess a “Yāqūt” manuscript or one copied by the sitta, but most of these were not decorated.24 A Mamluk copy of the Burda produced in Cairo in 22

23 24

As underlined by Behrens-Abouseif, the primary sources often mention the sharing of diplomatic gifts between the Mamluk sultan and his amirs, as part of the remuneration of the latter (Practising Diplomacy 30). Moreover, the Hamadan Quran seems to have first circulated as a diplomatic gift between Ilkhanid and Mamluk territories, before arriving in the hands of the Mamluk amir during a private exchange. If it was included in a package of diplomatic gifts, however, it does not appear in primary sources. Consequently, this remark implies that manuscripts were not systematically mentioned in lists of diplomatic presents but definitely legitimates our remark on the presence of books during these diplomatic exchanges. This Quran was sold by Sotheby’s on July 20, 1977 (published in the catalogue, lot no. 234). James, Qurʾāns 110.

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707/1308 and later ornamented with Timurid illuminations (Dublin, CBL MS 4178) is another significant example of the circulation of manuscripts between the two territories. There is no proof that these manuscripts were linked to trade, but it is undeniable that book markets played a central role in the circulation of objects and manuscripts in Egypt and Syria. A first indication that a large variety of texts and manuscripts with different qualities were found in markets, for princely buyers and less wealthy collectors, is Ibn Khaldūn’s visit to the book market to buy gifts for Timur.25 Moreover, al-Maqrīzī specifies the location of the book markets in Cairo during his time; most of them were located near royal and religious buildings.26 Book craftsmen had to work in religious institutions, and most of them probably also worked in the markets located around them. Numerous institutions established by sultans and amirs were bequeathed the supplies and commodities necessary to their functioning, including Qurans and other objects. The necessity of supplying establishments provided constant work to diverse groups of craftsmen in Egypt and Syria, at least in Cairo, Damascus, and other urban centers. Moreover, while international trade was never really interrupted despite the hostilities between the two powers, the entente signed between the Mamluk al-Nāṣir Muḥammad and the Ilkhan Abū Saʿīd (r. 1316–35) and the reopening of the Silk Road promoted and strengthened commercial activities. The later collapse of the Ilkhanid power reinforced Mamluk hegemony over international trade between East and West. At the same time, the increasing importance of the amirs and their patronage had an unmistakable influence on artistic production and impact on local markets, whose functioning and supply were conditioned by customers’ tastes. The aforementioned examples prove that embellishment and modification of books were not uncommon, either as a result of a special request or to increase their value for a future transaction. Consequently, even though commercial activities were never interrupted, trade does not seem to have played an important role in artistic exchanges between the territories before the 1330s, when the affinity for the Ilkhanid arts really began to impact Mamluk manuscript production. The Mobility of Artists: From Professional Training to Career Opportunities In various artistic domains, especially architecture and the arts of the book, some information is known about the mobility of craftsmen from one territory to another in the second half of the thirteenth and through the fourteenth century. For instance, we know that craftsmen from Tabriz participated in the building of some 25

26

According to al-Maqrīzī and Ibn Taghrībirdī, markets produced objects for sultans and amirs, as well as the urban bourgeoisie who followed artistic tastes established by the ruling class (Behrens-Abouseif, Cairo of the Mamluks 41). Raymond and Wiet, Les marchés du Caire (extracts translated into French from the Khiṭaṭ by al-Maqrīzī).

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monuments in Cairo. ʿAbd al-Muʾmin ibn Sharafshāh al-Naqqāsh al-Tabrīzī, known to have made the stucco miḥrāb in Urmia, also created the conch of the mihrab in the big īwān of the Sultan al-Nāṣir Muḥammad madrasa in Cairo (1295 and 1299–1303).27 Another example is the craftsman who worked on the ornamentation of minarets in the Amir Qawṣūn mosque in 1329–30, similar to those of the ʿAlī Shāh Ghīlānī mosque in Tabriz.28 As for the arts of the book, historical documentation and the study of manuscripts also demonstrate this ongoing mobility between both territories.29 Among the most famous examples are the artists who worked on the Baybars Quran, dated 1304–6 and copied in Cairo (London, BL MS Add. 22406-12). Sharaf al-Dīn Muḥammad ibn Sharaf ibn Yūsuf al-Kātib al-Zarʿī al-Miṣrī, called Ibn al-Waḥīd, was the copyist of this Quran and one of the most renowned calligraphers of the first part of the fourteenth century. His biography is well detailed; we know that he was born in Damascus in 1249–50 and traveled to Baalbek before coming to Baghdad, where he studied under the master of calligraphy Yāqūt al-Mustaʿṣimī.30 His training journey allowed him to have contact with current tastes and techniques of Iraqi manuscript production under the Mongol rulers at the end of the thirteenth century. This probably had a great impact on his art, and maybe on Mamluk arts of the book when he arrived in Cairo. In a similar way, one of the three illuminators who contributed to the realization of this manuscript must have possessed a similarly strong knowledge of eastern models. As mentioned by James in his stylistic study on illumination, Ibn Mubādir used several patterns similar to those used in Ilkhanid illuminations, especially the use of hexagons and octagons in geometric compositions but also colored inclusions in the golden plaits, which probably resulted from professional training in Iraq.31 27 28

29

30 31

Rogers, Mamluk-Mongol Relations 387. Creswell, Muslim Architecture ii, 275; Rogers, Mamluk-Mongol Relations 386; Little, Notes 398 and 400. According to al-ʿAynī, during his diplomatic mission to the Ilkhanid court the Mamluk amir Aytamish admired the mosque of Tabriz and recruited its craftsman, who came to Cairo in the 1320s. Before his work on the Amir Qawṣūn mosque, he erected a minaret sponsored by Aytamish for a zāwiya located near Tanta. Following this period, the impact of Ilkhanid arts started to become visible in many buildings in Cairo, especially through the use of tile decoration. Several Mamluk artists who traveled in countries under Ilkhanid domination—political or cultural—are mentioned throughout the fourteenth century. This could explain some elements which arose in Mamluk manuscript production. James, Qurʾāns 37. Golden plaits are often used to decorate frames in Mamluk manuscripts, but the introduction of colored squared patterns inside them does not appear before the 1340s. Aside from the Baybars Quran (London, BL MS Add. 22406-12), the first occurrence of colored inclusions in golden plait appears in a Quran dated 1339 and preserved in the National Museum of Iran (MS 2065) (James, Qurʾāns 43). It is already visible in earlier Saljuq manuscripts, whereas few Ilkhanid manuscripts show it (Ettinghausen, Manuscript Illumination, 1950 and 1958). Never-

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James assumed that the painter was trained abroad and brought back several of the elements he included in his art; in any case, he had a very good knowledge of eastern manuscripts, especially Ilkhanid. We shall return to this artist in the second part of this article. Several manuscripts that have been preserved were copied by Mubārakshāh al-Suyūfī in the middle of the fourteenth century.32 According to sources, he was born in Damascus and would have learned the art of calligraphy in Baghdad, where he became a master of the rayhan script. He would also have spent some time in Iran, perhaps with Yaḥyá al-Ṣūfī, an outstanding calligrapher from the first half of the fourteenth century and one of Yāqūt’s pupils.33 In 744/1344, he was undoubtedly in Cairo, where he copied a Quran (Istanbul, TSM MS Y. 2468). The manuscript displays a decorative vocabulary rather close to what appears in numerous Ilkhanid manuscripts: golden plait with inclusion of small colored squares, text on a background of scales, use of a big palmette motif over the basmala. The use of the golden plait with cabochons became common, but the other elements only later reappeared in Mamluk manuscript production. Among the illuminators who worked on the decoration of Qurans copied for the sultan Shaʿbān (r. 1363–76), Ibrāhīm al-Āmidī has a style with several elements tending to demonstrate a very good knowledge of Ilkhanid manuscripts. Indeed, on the opening pages following the double frontispiece of the unique Quran signed by alĀmidī in Cairo in 774/1372, the text is placed on a wave or scale pattern background, and raised by treble-dot motifs.34 As James suggested, this pattern of Chinese origin would have been introduced into the Mamluk decorative repertory via the Ilkhanid territories, where it had been in regular use since the beginning of the fourteenth century. Its first occurrence in Mamluk illumination dates to 744/1344, in a Quran copied in Cairo by Mubārakshāh al-Suyūfī, then re-appears in the work of al-Āmidī. In a similar way, the decorative Kufic he used in the superior and lower panels of the same double page shows very different peculiarities, like the addition of pseudo-Kufic elements at the beginning of the lines and

32

33 34

theless, the introduction of “cabochons” in golden plaits appears in manuscripts copied in Azerbaijan around 1330 as well as in the work of Muḥammad ibn Sayf al-Dīn al-Naqqāsh and Arghūn ibn ʿAbd Allāh al-Kāmilī, who were active in Baghdad in the same period (Chaigne, L’enluminure 258). Among them there are two Qurans—one dated Ramaḍān 744/1344 (Istanbul, TSM MS Y. 2468) and the other probably from the same period (Hyderabad, Salar Jung MS 182)—as well as a copy of the Kitāb al-arbaʿīn fī mabānī al-islām dated Rajab 745/1344 (London, BL MS Or. 9487), and a commentary on al-Būṣīrī’s Burda dated 747/1346 (London, BL MS Add. 23937). James, Qurʾāns 152. Only one Quran is signed by al-Āmidī (Cairo, DAK MS 10) but other copies were attributed to him by James on the basis of stylistic criteria (Cairo, DAK MSS 9 and 15 and a dispersed Quran with some parts preserved in London, BL MS Or. 848, and Dublin, CBL MSS 1464 and 1465).

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above them. Again, these elements are not characteristic of Mamluk arts of the book but they do appear in several Iranian Qurans dated from the end of the 1330s.35 In regard to these obvious facts, Ibrāhīm al-Āmidī was probably from the Jazira, as his nisba from Āmid seems to suggest, and would have worked in Iranian areas controlled by dynasties which had assimilated the Ilkhanid cultural inheritance before joining the Cairo court.36 In the end, these suppositions about the career of al-Āmidī, as well as the information supplied by sources on Mubārakshāh, provide a new reason for the circulation of artists: career opportunities. As it was for builders and decorators from Tabriz, the trip was linked to a professional occasion: a specific command from a sultan or amir, or simply the attraction of a rich and powerful new sponsorship. Moreover, as underlined by James, many features in the ornamentation of Qurans produced by Mubārakshāh and Ibrāhīm al-Āmidī were introduced in Mamluk illuminations at the end of the 1330s; most of them spreading from Ilkhanid art37 and showing new tastes and esthetic choices. Consequently, this phenomenon reflects and involves new needs within the manuscript production of the sultanate: the appearance of a clientele with different tastes, which required qualified artist to answer to its requests; it would also explain the numerous examples of manuscripts potentially linked to private and commercial exchanges from the end of the 1330s. To conclude, as previously suggested by James, the circulation of manuscripts and the mobility of artists undoubtedly played important roles in the transfer of artistic models between Ilkhanid and Mamluk centers. In my opinion, however, the most interesting part of this study is not identifying the ways by which the artistic exchanges between the two territories took place, but interpreting the sociocultural context at the end of the 1330s, when these exchanges had a real impact on Mamluk book production. During this period, the economic and social policy led by Sultan al-Nāṣir Muḥammad, as well as the reopening of borders and the Silk Road, widely contributed to the enrichment of amirs and populations in the great cities of the Mamluk sultanate, like Cairo and Damascus. These new fortunes undeniably contributed to the development of a rich and strong patronage. They also attracted artists and craftsmen from other Muslim countries—especially Iran and Iraq, where the Ilkhanid dynasty was declining—and took advantage of their work to give a new impulse to the arts of the sultanate. Moreover, between the end of the reigns of al-Nāṣir Muḥammad in 1341 and of Shaʿbān in 1363, the Mamluk sultanate was plunged into a period of political instability marked by a rapid succession of sultans and the increased importance of amirs, who held the 35 36 37

James, Qurʾāns 200. Ibid. 202. Ibid. On these questions, see especially chapters 6 and 8. This new style is notably characterized by the introduction of a new polychromy and a number of patterns spreading from the Ilkhanid decorative repertory, such as the so-called chinoiseries.

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power and grew increasingly rich.38 Among the amirs, some distinguished themselves by the importance of their sponsorship of artistic production, and many of these were bibliophiles.39 In the same way, many books were also produced for the middle class: some religious individuals, officials, professors, and merchants were able to commission books.40 Hence, many Mamluk amirs are now known for their support of local artistic traditions but also for their strong attraction to Ilkhanid arts and culture.41 For example, the madrasa of the amir Ṣarghatmish al-Nāṣirī, dated 757/1356, shows several elements spreading from the Ilkhanid artistic vocabulary and was especially dedicated to foreign scholars, especially Persian.42 Moreover, there are several examples of individuals of Persian origin who managed to rise in the social hierarchy of the sultanate and to contribute to the positive reputation of Persians, especially in Cairo.43 Consequently, this numerous and varied social clientele would have undoubtedly engendered the multiplication of needs and the development of numerous aesthetic choices. In this way, as the wealth of amirs and the urban bourgeoisie increased at the end of the 1330s, it is 38

39

40

41

42

43

Bauden, The Sons of al-Nāṣir Muḥammad. Moreover, regarding our study, this political instability probably explains why no manuscript can be connected with a sultan or a royal foundation during these years. Haarmann, Arabic in Speech 93. For example, the vizier Amir Badr al-Dīn Baydarā (d. 1293) bought and copied many books, and owned many precious manuscripts; Shaykhū al-Sāqī alQāzānī (d. 1351) was a “book addict,” and Amir Baktimur al-Sāqī al-Ḥanafī, born in Cairo in 1364, collected several Ṣaḥīḥ of al-Bukhārī. Petry, Civilian Elite; Berkey, Transmission of Knowledge. In his study, Petry approaches the identity, the professional status, and the social and ethnic origins of the individuals belonging to the civilian elites established in Cairo, especially during the Burji period. Through their careers, or their personal links, some of these people were included in the power sphere and the royal court; many of them were financial controllers, jurists, professors, or shaykhs. Moreover, in his book on the transmission of knowledge in medieval Cairo, Berkey mentions the salary earned by financial controllers and professors in some public foundations; in addition, some teachers accumulated chairs to improve their income. Information supplied by both studies undoubtedly explains links between common and royal manuscripts. Creswell, Muslim Architecture ii, 275; Rogers, Mamluk-Mongol Relations 386; Little, Notes 398 and 400. As we mentioned earlier, the amirs Aytamish and Qawṣūn recruited a Tabriz craftsman for the building and ornamentation of their monuments. Berkey, Transmission of Knowledge 91; Behrens-Abouseif, Cairo of the Mamluks 197–9. The madrasa was dedicated to students from Iran and is a significant example of the Mamluk architectural innovation following the reign of al-Nāṣir Muḥammad with some features similar to architectural features from west Iran or Iraq, like the profile of the dome. When he wrote about the madrasa of the amir Ṣirghitmish, al-Maqrīzī also mentioned his community composed by aʿjam: Iranians, but also probably Turks or Turkmens. Petry, Civilian Elite 61–7. In a study of the civilian elites in Cairo during Mamluk times, Petry estimated that 5 to 8% of the migrant population established in Cairo were of Persian origin. These individuals successfully established themselves in Cairo, and developed a good reputation, pursued academic, judicial, bureaucratic, or religious careers; many of them joined the wealthy class of the capital.

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not surprising to see the coexistence of manuscripts showing the stylistic tradition established by Ṣandal at the beginning of the fourteenth century alongside others bearing the features of the new style which characterizes numerous books produced after the 1350s. The Manuscripts: Towards a Comprehensive Study Besides the illumination patterns studied by James, the Mamluk and Ilkhanid arts of the book share several characteristics, among which two are especially significant: the format of the manuscripts and the programs of illumination. The increase in manuscripts’ sizes, as well as formal variations used around the illuminated structures, also constitute points of inquiry that can be exploited in order to obtain a global vision of artistic exchanges between the territories. The aim of this approach is to demonstrate the interest and the necessity of an in-depth study on the material available. Analysis of Manuscript Formats The observations and hypotheses presented here arise from a study based on sixty-six Mamluk illuminated copies and have thus to be considered as a work in progress that might be modified in the future with the analysis of new manuscripts. Among the similar elements between Ilkhanid and Mamluk manuscripts, one of the strongest features is the appearance of monumental copies in royal production at the beginning of the fourteenth century. From 1302 to 1315, Ilkhanid manuscripts produced for sultans Ghāzān and Ūljāytū and for the vizier Rashīd alDīn measured, on average, 500 x 360 mm, with bifolios measuring 720 x 500 mm.44 Most of these books were Quran manuscripts, but the same dimensions were also used for the oldest surviving copy of Rūmī’s Mathnawī, dated 1278.45 Among these monumental copies, let us not forget the thirty-part Quran produced between 1307 and 1313 and dedicated to Sultan Ūljāytū.46 With dimensions of 720 x 500 mm, this manuscript was realized with a sheet of paper measuring at least 1000 x 720 mm. To my knowledge, these large formats were never before used in Islamic manuscript production. In the Mamluk area, we observe a similar increase 44

45

46

For instance: the dispersed Quran copied in Baghdad by al-Suhrawardī in 701–7/1302–8 (Istanbul, TSM MS EH 250; Dublin, CBL MS 1614 a–b; New York, Met MS Rogers 50.12 and 55.44); the Hamadan Quran copied for Ūljāytū in 1313 (Cairo, DAK MS Rashid 72); or the Quran dated 715/1315 made for the vizier Rashīd al-Dīn (Istanbul, TSM MS EH 248). Konya, Mevlana MS 51. This manuscript shows slightly smaller dimensions, on average 495 x 320 mm. Based on this observation, Sheila Blair suggested that increasing sizes of paper began with secular manuscripts before moving to religious ones (Blair, Calligraphers 176). This copy was also copied in Baghdad by al-Suhrawardī in 1306 or 1307–13 for Sultan Ūljāytū (Dresden, SLUB MS K1; Leipzig, Albertina MS 444; Istanbul, TIEM MS 339).

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in dimensions throughout the fourteenth century; in this way, the sizes of Qurans are particularly significant. Manuscripts of the first two decades of the fourteenth century present smaller dimensions than Ilkhanid ones. The biggest was the Baybars Quran, measuring 470 x 320 mm, and it was considered by Mamluk sources as a masterpiece.47 The size of Quran manuscripts did not stop increasing from the 1330s, with dimensions equal to or greater than 500 x 360 mm—in other words similar to royal Ilkhanid manuscripts from the first decade of the fourteenth century—and reached even more than 720 x 500 mm after 1350. About the existence of monumental copies, Jonathan Bloom and Sheila Blair suggested that the turning point of the late thirteenth–early fourteenth century was due to a technical innovation in the paper industry, characterized by the manufacturing of large format sheets.48 According to these authors, this technical innovation occurred in the Ilkhanid area before impacting Mamluk manuscript production, but it has never been studied in a thorough way. In fact, an in-depth analysis of page folding, namely the orientation of the chain-lines and wire-lines of the manuscripts, seems to contradict this theory. As described by Adam Gacek, if the wire lines are perpendicular to the sewing of the manuscript, the sheet was folded one or three times to obtain a folio or octavo. Conversely, if the wire lines are parallel, the sheet of paper was folded two or four times to create a quarto or sextodecimo.49 It is also necessary to mention that this practice is not so obvious when we consider some external factors.50 This analysis has recently been done on Ilkhanid manuscripts by Ben Azzouna. She identified three groups of folio formats (large, medium and small) and was able to reconstitute the dimensions of the original sheets of paper as presented in the following table (Table 4.1).51 Moreover, based on the chronology of manuscripts and the type of folding, she noticed that the large and medium formats were used throughout the Ilkhanid period, whereas the small one appeared only at the end of the thirteenth century.52 From this analysis, she concluded that the appearance of monu47

48 49 50

51

52

This seven-part Quran was copied in 704–5/1304–6 by the famous Mamluk calligrapher Muḥammad ibn al-Wāḥid for Rukn al-Dīn Baybars al-Jāshankīr, who later became Sultan Baybars II (London, BL MS Add. 22406-12). Bloom, Paper Before Print 13; Blair, Yāqūt 39. See Gacek, Arabic Manuscripts 189. Investigating this question implies perfect lighting conditions in the libraries or museums but this is not always possible, and it also depends on the paper’s original characteristics and its state of preservation. Papers are often polished, and consequently their micro-structure is not totally visible to the naked eye. About papermaking in Arabic manuscripts, see especially Karabacek, Arab Paper; Humbert, Le manuscrit arabe; Déroche, Manuel de codicologie 56– 69; Bloom, Paper Before Print; Gacek, Arabic Manuscripts 186–93. Ben Azzouna, La question des niveaux 138. These values correspond to theoretical dimensions of the sheet of paper before folding. Ben Azzouna, La production de manuscrits 219.

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mental manuscripts could not be explained by the use of sheets of bigger dimensions but rather by the use of large folio folding. Indeed, large sheets of paper were still in use during the thirteenth century but were folded to obtain quartos or octavos, while the utilization of folio folding from the early fourteenth century explains the rise of monumental manuscripts.53 This practice only occurs in the royal thirty-part Qurans made for sultans Ghāzān and Ūljāytū and other manuscripts sponsored by Rashīd al-Dīn.54 Table 4.1. Dimensions of original sheets of paper in Ilkhanid manuscripts Large

680/820 x 488/608 mm

Medium

596/668 x 415/500 mm

Small

440/524 x 305/374 mm

Regarding Mamluk manuscripts, initial observations seem to confirm Ben Azzouna’s theory of paper folding, but also show formats seemingly characteristic of the Mamluk area. Of sixty-six illuminated manuscripts produced between 1302 and 1400, four bifolio groups with similar paper dimensions are found and presented in the table below (see Appendix, Table 4.3), as well in the detailed appendix offered at the end of this article. We observe that the reduced large format and the medium one show noticeably similar dimensions to Ilkhanid manuscripts, although slightly smaller. While the medium size is less represented in our corpus, and mostly used for common manuscripts from the end of the thirteenth century to the 1320s, the reduced large format seems to be the most common throughout the fourteenth century. It is used for all types of texts, as well as books produced for a princely clientele or otherwise. The other two formats, very large and intermediate large, seem to only be employed for books attributed or attributable to a royal environment. While the large intermediate size seems to appear from the beginning of the period, the very large one does not seem to be used before the second half of the fourteenth century. Moreover, although it was already employed for Ūljāytū’s Quran, to my knowledge no later Mongol manuscripts among Ilkhanid or Jalayirid productions present these exceptional dimensions; this format seems to characterize the royal production of Mamluk manuscripts, especially Quran copies.55 53 54 55

Ben Azzouna, La question des niveaux 138. Ibid. 138–9. Nevertheless, this statement on the use of the large format would require a more thorough investigation. Indeed, a non-Quranic manuscript shows similar dimensions to the studied Qurans (dated 1367, it is a copy of the genealogical tree of the Prophet [Istanbul, TSM MS EH 1171]). Moreover, as indicated in the appendix to this article, a copy of the Zubdat al-fikra, dedicated to the madrasa of the sultan Abū Saʿīd Barqūq, seems to have been created with a very large sheet of paper (Paris, BNF MS Arabe 1572). The rank of his supposed patron seems to explain the use of the very large paper: maybe it was the only format of paper available in the royal

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Table 4.2. Dimensions of the original sheets of paper in Mamluk manuscripts56 Dimensions

Adjusted Dimensions

Very large

950/1184 x 670/876 mm

1010/1184 x 705/845 mm

Intermediate large

820/940 x 575/650 mm

820/940 x 575/650 mm

Reduced large

660/790 x 470/550 mm

720/620 x 470/550 mm

Medium

514/620 x 360/460 mm

540/620 x 400/460 mm

The reduced large octavo as the medium format of paper seems to be the most usual size for non-royal books. These observations also apply to Ilkhanid production.57 Moreover, though the reduced large format, folded three times to obtain an octavo, regularly appears from the beginning to the end of the fourteenth century, the folio folding only seems to occur in the 1330s and be used for luxury copies.58 As demonstrated by Ben Azzouna for Ilkhanid manuscripts, the increasing size of manuscripts in Mamluk production does not seem to be linked to a technical innovation in papermaking, but to the use of folding folios for the reduced large format sheet. How do we explain the adoption of this folding in the Mamluk manuscript production from this period? To what extent can we connect this phenomenon to an increase in exchanges with the Ilkhanids after the peace treaty of 1322–23, or to the arrival of craftsmen coming from Iraq after Ilkhanid power began to decline? Moreover, from the 1330s Mamluk patronage also became more intense, attracting more activity. However, the issue is not ready to be resolved, especially because this observation about the use of large reduced folio raises another question: the use, and consequently the manufacturing, of the intermediate large format in Mamluk area. To my knowledge, no manuscript produced in the Syro-Egyptian area used this format of paper before the Baybars Quran in 704–5/1304–6. Nevertheless, it seems to be used more from the end of the 1330s and after, with dimensions slightly smaller than the Baybars Quran and

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context where the manuscript was probably copied. However, the folding used and the structure of paper (disposition of chain-lines, thickness, etc.) are different from those found in the other manuscripts using very large paper. In this way, it is also possible to consider the use of a paper of medium size, in the form of a folio, for the realization of the manuscript. The same doubts remain for three other entries in our corpus (Cairo, DAK MS 80, Paris, BNF MS Arabe 5844-46, and Cairo, DAK MS 120-121); again, the folding and the structure of paper have no similarities to the other manuscripts. Consequently, a deeper study of the very large format paper could certainly bring new data. The column on the left shows the smallest and largest dimensions found for each paper size. These data correspond to extreme values since, taking into account the trimming operations undergone by several manuscripts, it is possible to determine a certain average and then further adjust some of these dimensions in the right-hand column. See Ben Azzouna, La production de manuscrits 219. This observation was also made by Anne Boud’Hors regarding Coptic manuscripts (Boud’Hors, Manuscrits coptes 82).

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other Quran copies of the beginning of the fourteenth century. De facto, we can imagine that very large paper sheets used for earlier copies were imported from Iraq, then trimmed, whereas they probably started to be locally produced from the 1330–40s, following the introduction of folio folding for the large formats. If this theory were confirmed, it would consolidate our hypothesis about the arrival of paper craftsmen coming from Iraq during this period. Indeed, and although it is the unique copy preserved of this size, Ūljāytū’s Quran, produced in Baghdad at the beginning of the fourteenth century, proves that the Iraqi paper-makers were already able to make papers of very large size.59 It would also be interesting to compare these new observations on Mamluk manuscripts with information given in primary sources, especially the Ṣubḥ alaʿshá by al-Qalqashandī (d. 1418) and the anonymous Dīwān al-inshāʾ, probably copied during the fifteenth century.60 Both give a very important account of the papers used by the Mamluk chancellery, as well as the dimensions of each format.61 Al-Qalqashandī and the author of the Dīwān mention three large formats used in the Mamluk chancellery: the complete ṭūmār of manṣūrī, the complete baghdādī, and the reduced baghdādī.62 In the same way, three large formats are used in the manuscripts studied; however, to verify a potential correlation, it would be necessary to refine and confirm the manuscripts’ dimensions by a more thorough quantitative study of the Mamluk corpus, then to lead a material study on the papers used by the chancellery. Consistency in formats would tend to prove a unique production of paper sheets for the chancellery and manuscripts produced for other contexts, like the first observations on our corpus already suggest. Moreover, if this was the case, it would also contradict the various dimensions 59

60 61

62

Likewise, the hypothesis of local Egyptian and Syrian productions of very large-size papers following the arrival of Iraqi paper craftsmen in the 1330s–40s could be worth considering. As James underlined, this period is characterized by numerous changes in Mamluk manuscript production, in particular after the introduction of new ornamental patterns coming from the Ilkhanid decorative repertory (chinoiseries, golden plaits with inclusions of colored squares, etc.). Furthermore, we saw that the intensification of exchanges and commercial activities between the two territories impacted the circulation of craftsmen and objects. In a similar way, the appreciation of Ilkhanid arts developed by Mamluk amirs, as well as the importance of their patronage, had a significant impact on these exchanges and local artistic production. Consequently, it would not be surprising to discover that Iraqi paper craftsmen took advantage of this situation to settle down in Cairo or Damascus, explaining the introduction of the folding folio in Mamluk manuscript production, and maybe the manufacturing of very large-format papers. Paris, BNF MS Arabe 4339. Al-Qalqashandī, Ṣubḥ al-aʿshā vi, 180–4; the Dīwān is not published but parts were studied by Humbert, including its dimensions (Humbert, Le manuscrit arabe 73). While al-Qalqashandī does not mention the complete ṭūmār of manṣūrī in his description of formats used in the chancellery, he cites it in another part of his book dedicated to writings suitable for every size of paper (Ṣubḥ al-aʿshā iii, 54).

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given by Jean Irigoin, Geneviève Humbert, and Adam Gacek on chancellery papers, as well as some of their conclusions.63 Finally, this preliminary work shows the importance of considering manuscripts as objects as well as works of art. This systematic analysis of papers and their folding would not only highlight the diverse aspects of Mamluk manuscript production, but also bring to light new information about the nature and the impact of exchanges with Ilkhanid manuscript production. For a Study of Geometrical Structures? Mamluk and Ilkhanid manuscripts, mostly Qurans, are characterized by their similar ornamental programs and their illuminated structures.64 These latter are interesting to investigate to get a better understanding of the way artists and patrons from both territories shared artistic perception and savoir-faire. The opening double pages are a good example to illustrate this. In Ilkhanid and Mamluk Qurans, they are generally characterized by a pseudo-vegetated border and one or several frames around a main rectangular surface.65 In both productions, most of the pseudo-vegetated borders are either insulating (i.e., isolating), framing the central panel on all four sides (as below in Fig. 4.1), or unifying (i.e., linking), arranged around the three external sides of the panel, gathering both pages into one composition (as in Fig. 4.2). In both, the main area’s structure of frontispieces can be united or tripartite, with panels containing Quranic verses located above 63

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Gacek, Arabic Manuscripts 191–3; Humbert, Le manuscrit arabe. Both authors tried to analyze and reconstitute the theoretical dimensions of the original sheets of paper used by the Mamluk chancellery. Earlier, Jean Irigoin highlighted three formats of paper used for bookmaking in the Middle East from the ninth century: large (660/720 mm x 490/560 mm), medium (490/560 mm x 320/380 mm), and small (320/370 mm x 235/280 mm) (Irigoin, Les papiers non filigranés 303–4). Compared with these dimensions, Humbert concluded that papers used in the chancellery were incompatible with those produced in other book workshops, also stipulating that a thorough material study of both types of papers would be needed to confirm or counter this conclusion. They generally open on a double frontispiece characterized by a geometric composition and followed by an illuminated double page bearing usually the two first surahs, sometimes only the Fātiḥa. The ends of the manuscripts show the same composition, with a final illuminated double page bearing the two final surahs and sometimes followed by a double finispiece creating a mirror composition within the book. For non-Quranic manuscripts, they open on a single page with ornamentation based on a shamsa or a circular medallion; a few of them show structures similar to Quran frontispieces. The pseudo-vegetated border always constitutes the external surrounding of the illumination. It can take various forms but it is always characterized by the use of “pseudo-vegetated” elements: simple or complex convolutions of foliaged scrolls based on palmettes and semi-palmettes, treble motifs, simple or multifoliated leaves, etc. All these elements are developed according to an underlying geometric plan and based on specific symmetrical axes. On the contrary, the other frames are often characterized by geometric or floral patterns, such as the use of braids, pearl stripes, lotuses, and peonies.

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and below a geometrical composition enclosed in a rectangle or a square. To illustrate these diverse variations, we are mainly going to be interested in the Baybars Quran, dated to the years 704–5/1304–6, which constitutes a representative sample.66

Fig. 4.1. The insulating border type

Fig. 4.2. The unifying border type

The border on the frontispieces in Mamluk Qurans was usually “unifying” or “linking.” However, at the beginning of the fourteenth century, we are also confronted with frontispieces using an “insulating” border, or framing the main field on four sides. Examining the seven volumes of the Baybars Quran, both types of border are visible: an insulating border is used in volumes 1, 4, and 6, whereas in other volumes the “unifying” border is used. The internal part of the border in the first volume also shows the peculiarity of being less thick than the other three sides.67 It is also necessary to point out that the frontispieces of volumes 1, 2, 4, and 6 are signed or attributable to Ibn Mubādir; who seems to have tried different formal solutions for the structure of the external border. Two other Qurans attributable to Ibn Mubādir show this peculiarity: the frontispiece of the first one has an “isolating” border and is very close to the style of this illuminator (Damascus, NM MS M13615),68 while no border is used for the decorative page of the second manuscript (Dublin, CBL MS 1457). Except in Ibn Mubādir’s work, most frontispieces showing formal variations around the structure of the border are also attributed to the beginning of the fourteenth century, as well as the middle of the period; 66

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London, BL MS Add. 22406-12. This manuscript is a collective work centered on the calligrapher Muḥammad al-Waḥīd, known to have learned his art in Baghdad with the most famous calligrapher of the period, Yāqūt al-Mustaʿṣimī. No less than three illuminators participated in its realization: Abū Bakr, known as Ṣandal, who signed volumes 3 and 5; Aydughdī ibn ʿAbd Allāh al-Badrī, whose name is written on the last volume; and Ibn Mubādir, who signed the first volume. By stylistic comparison, James attributed the other volumes (2, 4, and 6) to this last illuminator. To my knowledge, there is no other Mamluk frontispiece showing this specific characteristic in the construction of the external border. This Quran consists of two volumes: the first is preserved in the National Museum in Damascus (NM MS 13615); the second is dispersed, but the final part was published in Fraser, Geometry in Gold.

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in the 1340s, more options seem to be explored, but remain rarely used.69 Based on these observations, these two periods seem to primarily reflect various researches on the illuminated structures of Mamluk frontispieces. In Ilkhanid books, the typology of external borders is more diversified, although frontispieces with “isolating” borders form the largest group; the other types found in the decorative pages are the “unifying” one, or with a border placed only at the top or along the gutter of the illumination, or over and under the surface.70 This census highlights the coexistence of several formal solutions in Ilkhanid manuscripts, more developed than the Mamluk production. Consequently, the attempts of Ibn Mubādir at formal variations of borders are probably connected to the possible training in, or at least the knowledge of, eastern models. Moreover, as we pointed out in the first part of this article, the Ilkhanid collapse and the growing artistic patronage in the Mamluk sultanate from the end of the fourteenth century undoubtedly favored the mobility of craftsmen between territories, maybe explaining the reappearance of different border styles. Moreover, as demonstrated by Chaigne, the analysis of Ilkhanid manuscripts shows a progressive abandonment of the insulating border for the unifying one in the 1330s. The popularity of the latter seems to gradually increase during the Jalayirid period and becomes systematic in Timurid illuminations. We could thus think about a transfer from the Mamluk territory toward the Middle East.71 This remark tends to demonstrate that cultural and technical exchanges occurred in both directions; in this aspect, questions about the diffusion and reception of Mamluk arts and manuscripts outside of the sultanate’s borders, especially in the eastern Muslim regions, deserve a more thorough investigation.72 69

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These manuscripts are not included in our corpus but are significant for our purpose: for example, frontispieces in a Quran dated 1314 copied for the library of Sultan al-Nāṣir Muḥammad ibn Qalāwūn (Istanbul, TIEM MS 447) and two others attributable to the 1340s (Sotheby’s, 19 October 2016, lot 103, and Istanbul, TIEM MS 434) have no border; those of a Quran dated from the 1340s and two Christian manuscripts, dated 1339 and 1342, are characterized by the use of the isolating border. Moreover, the frontispiece of a Ṣaḥīḥ al-Bukhārī dated 1348 and copied for the amir Shaykhū shows an upper border (Jerusalem, NLI MS Yah. arab. 24), whereas two other contemporary Qurans have decorative pages with only external borders (Jerusalem, NLI MS Yah. arab. 170, and Kuwait, DAI MS LNS47). For more information about the typology of borders in Ilkhanid manuscripts, see Chaigne, L’enluminure 160–6. Ibid. 165–6. On these questions, we can already mention the research of Éloïse Brac de la Perrière on the arts of the book in the Indian sultanates (see Brac de la Perrière, L’art du livre, and idem, Du Caire à Mandu). Her research gives new evidence on artistic transfers between Mamluk book productions and Indian manuscripts, especially with Mandu and Gwalior productions. While the international trade or circulation of artists and objects probably explain the use of the same decorative structures or patterns in both territories, she also suggested the role of the Jain community in these artistic transfers. For more details about artistic similarities between Mamluk

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Regarding the central and main area of frontispieces, the structure can be united like the central area in Fig. 4.1, or tripartite as shown in Fig. 4.2. In Mamluk production, both options were used but the tripartite construction seems to be privileged from the 1320s to 1330s.73 Most of the frontispieces with a united composition, where the geometrical design fills the entire central surface, are dated from the first three decades of the century; it is used in volumes of the Baybars Quran: those attributable to Ibn Mubādir (volumes 4 and 6) and the last one, signed by Aydughdī ibn ʿAbd Allāh al-Badrī.74 Again, we find some manuscripts with undivided composition in the later Mamluk production of the fourteenth century, especially in the work of Ibrāhīm al-Āmidī.75 In the Ilkhanid domain, most manuscripts from the second half of the thirteenth century also have a united composition.76 The tripartite structure is employed more from the beginning of the fourteenth century; it appears in some royal thirty-volume Qurans77 and seems to be used more afterwards. Consequently, the increasing use of the tripartite division for the main illuminated surface in double frontispieces seems concomitant in both territories, as well as its almost exclusive adoption from the 1330s in Mamluk and Jalayirid manuscripts. In fact, except for the border, the difference in structure between the two productions is found in panels used for the sūra titles and those in the opening and closing text pages, also based on a tripartition of their illuminated surfaces.78 However, from this analysis, it is interesting to notice

73

74

75

76 77

78

books and those produced in Gwalior, see also Chaigne and Cruvelier, The ornamentation of the Gwalior Qur’an. See for example frontispieces of the Qurans copied by Aḥmad al-Mutaṭabbib: Cairo, DAK MSS 81 and 184, and Dublin, CBL MS 1476. Although there are several manuscripts with a united main area, most of them are attributed or attributable to the work of these two illuminators: there are the two already-mentioned Qurans linked to the work of Ibn Mubādir (the dispersed Quran whose first volume is preserved in Damascus, NM MS 13615, and the finispiece of the Quran preserved in Dublin, CBL MS 1457); then there is a Quran, dated 713/1313, illuminated by Aydughdī ibn ʿAbd Allāh alBadrī (Istanbul, TIEM MS 450). As mentioned in the first part of this article, he mainly worked under the reign of Sultan Shaʿbān II (r. 1368–76) and probably came from Jazira. Three Qurans showing frontispieces with a united composition are attributed or attributable to him: Cairo, DAK MS 10; Cairo, DAK MS 9; and a dispersed copy from which some pages are preserved in Dublin (CBL MS 1464-65) and London (BL MS Or. 848). Chaigne, L’enluminure 177. For instance, the Baghdad Quran copied by al-Suhrawardī in 701–7/1302–8 and the Hamadan Quran dated 714/1313 and copied for Sultan Ūljāytū use both options, whereas the Mosul Quran only uses the undivided composition. The first occurrence of an epigraphic cartridge in these panels is visible in the Baghdad Quran copied by al-Suhrawardī, while the first appearance of this solution would not be older than the 1320s in Mamluk production (Dublin, CBL MS 1481). While in the Ilkhanid imperial Qurans the internal division of panels was quickly complicated with the integration of diverse geometrical forms, it remains relatively simple in Mamluk manuscripts. The more complex in-

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that the united main area in Mamluk illuminated double frontispieces was mainly used during periods of artistic creativity. Except for the work of al-Āmidī, the other examples are dated or datable from the beginning and the middle of the fourteenth century and are contemporary with the various attempts on border structures. In other words, these formal variations reflect two periods that seem to have played an important role in the formation of the Mamluk arts of the book. The first period, at the beginning of the fourteenth century, consisted of tests on the formal geometrical variation of the illuminated structures, especially on the external border and the central area of the composition. Then, as we have already underlined, the middle of the fourteenth century was characterized by several technical and stylistic attempts in Mamluk manuscript production. The probable arrival of foreign craftsmen, increasing trade, and strong patronage contributed to the dynamism of manuscript production during this period. Furthermore, several studies have been done on the geometrical structures of illuminations, especially on the underlying geometry regulating the layout of a manuscript. Valery Polosin has already highlighted the role of the geometrical plans underlying the elaboration of frontispieces. His analysis demonstrated the use of “remarkable proportions” in manuscripts produced in different periods and places, and highlighted the sustainability of some practices in the Islamic art of illumination.79 In a similar way, based on a selection of illuminated and painted Ilkhanid manuscripts coming from the scriptorium of the vizier Rashīd al-Dīn, the Rabʿ-i Rashīdī, Yves Porter also pointed out the use of “remarkable proportions” for the elaboration of some components of the illuminated structures. Moreover, he suggested that the gridlines (misṭara) played a role in the construction of ornamentation. In general, the misṭara80 controls the number of lines, the spacing between them, and the ratio of the surface dedicated to the writing; but Porter suggested that it could also be used as a module of construction for the whole layout, for text and illuminations well as for illustrations.81 For instance, the double

79

80

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tegration of subdivisions, especially based on tripartition, by means of varied geometrical elements, did not appear before the end of the 1330s. Polosin, Method, and idem, Frontispieces. In the first article, he analyzed two frontispieces: one belonging to the manuscript copied by the famous calligrapher Ibn al-Bawwāb, and one from a manuscript produced for the Mamluk sultan Qānṣūh al-Ghawrī (r. 1501–17). He ignored all ornamental patterns to only emphasize the structure of the illumination and proportions used for its realization. Déroche, Manuel de codicologie 170–3. The misṭara exists to delimit the space in which the copyist will insert the text. Once the number of lines of text and their spacing are determined, this arrangement is recorded on a template, where as many threads as the number of lines of text are stretched out. The paper sheet is then placed over this device, and by the friction of the threads on the paper, the lines are imprinted in low relief on the page, bounding the space and the number of lines wanted, and giving the copyist a guide to follow as he writes. Adle, Recherche sur le module; Porter, La réglure. In his study, Porter followed and completed the first observations made by Adle, who demonstrated the existence of an organizational sys-

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frontispiece of al-Majmūʿa al-rashīdiyya (Paris, BNF MS Arabe 2324, dated 710/1310–11), shows a gridline with a height/width ratio equal to 1.5 and identical to the ratio of the double frontispiece. Moreover, the misṭara also defines the border, as well as the polygons which compose the central area of the frontispiece. Porter proceeded in the same way on other manuscripts issued from the same area. In spite of different types of construction between manuscripts, he concluded that the use of the misṭara is undeniable in the creation of some manuscripts, especially those intended for the elite, and plays a guiding role in allowing easy duplication of images.82 Applying the same methodology to our corpus leads to the same observations. In a first group including Qurans attributable to illuminators who worked on the Baybars manuscript (London, BL MS Add. 22406-12),83 the Dublin Quran (CBL MS 1479) displays a real harmony in the geometrical elaboration of the layout. The layout dictated by the misṭara has a ratio equal to 1.4, similar to those of the double frontispiece and the illuminated opening and closing text pages. The misṭara also seems to manage the frames’ construction and the central geometrical composition of the double frontispiece. Such harmonization of the various parts constituting the codex is not found in the two other manuscripts consulted. In the seven volumes of the Baybars Quran, all the colophons and illuminated text pages have the same height/width as the misṭara frame, whereas all the double frontispieces have different proportions.84 Furthermore, if the misṭara played a role as a unit of measure, its modalities of use are not as obvious as they seem to be for the elaboration of the frontispiece of the Dublin Quran. Here, the illuminators have rather tried to show all their talent regarding geometrical control by using various realization processes. In contrast, in the group of manuscripts connected to Aḥmad

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tem for illustrations and illuminations within a page, and their links with the text surface. Both of them pointed out the existence of a module that would dominate the whole layout. While Adle suggested the point as a module, Porter proposed the ruler line. For his demonstration, he reported horizontally and vertically the lines constituting the frame of the ruler on the illuminated frontispieces or illustrations. He demonstrated that the format of the calligraphic rectangle (jadwal) often presents proportions usable in the subdivision of the page. These latter can be used for variations of the text layout, but also for illuminations and, when necessary, for illustrations. This question was also approached by Chaigne in his study dedicated to Ilkhanid illuminated manuscripts (L’enluminure 154–60). Porter, La réglure 64. Nevertheless, he specifies that it is probably not the sole “pratique d’atelier.” In addition to the Baybars manuscript, Qurans attributable to this group are: a copy connected to the work of Ṣandal (Dublin, CBL MS 1479); two Qurans linked to Ibn Mubādir (Dublin, CBL MS 1457, and Damascus, NM MS 13615); and a Quran dated 713/1313 signed by Aydughdī ibn ʿAbd Allāh al-Badrī (Istanbul, TIEM MS 450). For the demonstration, I focused on the manuscripts which I was able to see, the Baybars Quran and both copies in Dublin. This influences the visual harmony within each volume, but also within the series.

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al-Mutaṭabbib,85 we find similar principles of construction to those used for the elaboration of the Dublin manuscript. In the Quran dated 734/1334 (Cairo, DAK MS 81), a ratio equal to 1.45 characterizes the justification of text, the double frontispiece, and finispiece, as well as the opening and closing text pages. The misṭara line also seems to define some components of these pages, like the pseudo-vegetated border or the height of the calligraphic panels. This harmony of proportions is also found in the two other manuscripts attributed—or attributable—to Aḥmad al-Mutaṭabbib, although the misṭara line does not seem to be the module of construction used for the internal organization of the geometrical structures.86 As was demonstrated for Ilkhanid manuscripts, if this study does not allow us to systematically define the module of construction used (if this actually existed), it still constitutes real research on the layout and the harmonization of the various components in some Mamluk manuscripts. This concept seems to be especially used for the realization of princely Quranic manuscripts. To sum up, the analysis of geometrical structures applied to the illumination of Mamluk manuscripts shows a number of formal methods used for their elaboration. Various techniques, including use of the misṭara, seem to have been used and shared by Ilkhanid and Mamluk book craftsmen in order to produce these complex geometrical constructions. In conclusion, a more thorough investigation of the various technical tools used by craftsmen is needed, since they undoubtedly facilitated faster production of geometrical compositions. Artists and craftsmen benefited from a number of tools and techniques to reproduce more or less complex drawings without needing to spend time on reflection and calculation before carrying out the designs. These technical means probably allowed them to reproduce decorations swiftly and to complete a job in a shorter time. This last remark links to the theory of the habitus, on which, in regard to the Muslim arts of the book, more research is needed in order to gain a better understanding of the professional practices in use by these craftsmen.87

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This second group contains three Qurans: two signed copies dated 731/1331 and 734/1334 (Cairo, DAK MSS 184 and 81) and a Quran juzʾ attributable to Aḥmad al-Mutaṭabbib (Dublin, CBL MS 1476). The Quran DAK MS 81 was copied after MS 184, and also probably after the Dublin juzʾ (MS 1476). Consequently, it would be possible to see in the DAK MS 81 the culmination of a study connected to the layout in the Aḥmad al-Mutaṭabbib work. A kind of perfect geometrical work based on the same constructive module (the ruler’s line) responding to the basic principle of the “harmony of the whole and its parts”? This notion was especially developed by Pierre Bourdieu in Le sens pratique. The habitus reflects a social world and it is adapted to it. This allows concerned agents to immediately answer to the events which they face, without thinking about it; consequently, they develop a practical sense linked to their habitus.

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Conclusion One of the aims of this article was to combine the information supplied by primary sources with observations of manuscripts, and to include the context in which occurred the mobility of craftsmen and the circulation of books, the first vectors of the impact of Ilkhanid art on Mamluk production in the fourteenth century. It is interesting to note that these two phenomena are usually connected to personal or private initiatives: craftsmen traveled in order to receive training, to pursue opportunities created by a specific command, or because of the attraction of patronage, and manuscripts circulated thanks to unofficial meetings, specific requests, or purchase on the market. Moreover, as shown in the study of illumination by James, as well as our analysis of manuscripts’ formats and their illuminated structures, the impact of the Ilkhanid arts of the book on Mamluk manuscript production is evident from the end of the 1330s and can be linked to a series of concurrent events. The end of hostilities between the territories, the promotion of international trade, and the progressive decline of Mongol power are the most well-known reasons; but the increasing power of Mamluk amirs and urban bourgeoisie and their role in artistic patronage are also factors linked to the development of a new aesthetic. By imposing their own tastes, reflecting their affinities for Ilkhanid arts, Mamluk amirs and a wealthy urban population not only attracted foreign craftsmen and imported books, but undoubtedly also impacted the production of manuscripts as well as book markets in Egypt and Syria. Apart from some examples like the work of Ibrāhīm al-Āmidī, Mamluk manuscript production from the second half of the fourteenth century completed the integration and assimilation of the new decorative structures and patterns introduced at the end of the 1330s and 1340s. This article also aimed to stress the importance of analyzing manuscripts as a whole. Aside from the stylistic details of a manuscript, practical factors such as the introduction of a new type of folding or the use of a new format of paper, along with the structures of its illuminations, also reveal information about the artistic connections and techniques shared by the Ilkhanid and Mamluk arts of the book. All of these elements help to refine our knowledge of manuscript production processes, providing information not just about their operational sequences, but also about the workshops and the identities and the social statuses of the various actors involved. In general, study of manuscripts cannot be restricted to a single problematic or to an historical approach focusing on a single category of documents. Research on Islamic manuscripts must take into consideration as many elements as possible in order to widen the horizon of our perception and give us a diversified and multiform vision of the matter.

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Appendix In chronological order, the following table presents manuscripts with their folio, then bifolio, dimensions, and the folding employed. Each format is distinguished by a code: VL: very large; IM: intermediate large; RL: reduced large; M: medium. The table also indicates when trimming is important because this influences results.88 Table 4.3. Chronological table of Mamluk manuscripts and their formats Format Inventory number Type of text

Date

Folio Dimensions dimensions TrimFolding of sheet of ming (mm) paper (mm) x 540 In-8 and 720 255 x 180 and 540 x In-4 360

RL/M

CBL MS 4033

Azhār al-afkār 697/1298

M

NL MS Op 2707 BL MS Add. 22406-12 BNF MS Arabe 638 CBL MS 4178 CBL MS 1457 CBL MS 1479 NLI MS Yah. arab. 103 BL MS Or. 3025 CBL MS 1437-40 CBL MS 1461 CBL MS 1481 CBL MS 1473 NL MS Op. 2922

Quran

701/1302

400 x 280

Quran

704–5/1304–6

470 x 320

IM M M RL RL M RL RL RL RL M RL

88

*

In-folio 560 x 400 In-4?

940 x 640? 540 x 360

Najm muhtadī

al- 707/1307

270 x 180

*

In-4

al-Burda

707/1308

420 x 300

*

In-folio 600 x 420

Quran

ca. 1300–10

350 x 265

Quran

ca. 1300–20

330 x 250

Ṣaḥīḥ Muslim 711/1311

In-4

700 x 530

*

In-4

660 x 500

403 x 278

*

In-folio 556 x 403

al-Fawāʾid al- 712/1312 jāliyya

250 x 170

*

In-8

680 x 500

Quran

ca. 1300–20

335 x 245

*

In-4

670 x 490

Quran

ca. 1300–20

266 x 188

In-8

752 x 532

Quran

720/1320

484 x 354

*

In-folio 708 x 484

Quran

723/1323

340 x 243

*

In-folio 486 x 340

Quran

727/1326

245 x 170

*

In-8

680 x 500

Trimming concerns all the manuscripts, but according to the individual case, the operation is more or less important. Here * indicates manuscripts where the trimming is significant because the marginal medallions and glosses are incomplete due to it. In these cases it is not easy to certify the original dimensions of the sheet of paper.

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94 Format Inventory number Type of text IM RL RL RL RL RL M RL RL IM M RL RL VL M M VL VL IM RL IM

Khalili MS QUR 317 DAK MS 4 KFF MS 87014 DAK MS 184 BL MS Or. 1327 DAK MS 81 CBL MS 1476 BNF MS Arabe 1130 BL MS Or. 2810 DAK MS 111 Khalili MS QUR 807 DAK MS 14 Khalili MS QUR 470 DAK MS 142 BNF MS Arabe 1510 BNF MS Arabe 12 DAK MS 8 DAK MS 61 BNF MS Arabe 704 DAK MS 97 BL MS Or. 123

Date

Folio Dimensions dimensions TrimFolding of sheet of ming (mm) paper (mm)

Quran

729/1329

575 x 450

*

In-folio 900 x 575

Quran

Waqf 730/1330

553 x 377

*

In-folio 754 x 553

Quran

Waqf 730/1330

528 x 395

Quran

732/1332

535 x 370

*

In-folio 740 x 535

Gospel Book

1334

235 x 175

*

In-8

Quran

734/1334

515 x 380

*

In-folio 760 x 515

Quran

ca. 1330–40

294 x 210

*

In-8

588 x 420

Kitāb adhkār

In-folio 790 x 528

700 x 470

al- 737/1337

260 x 185

In-8

720 x 520

Ḥirz al-amānī 737/1337

253 x 180

In-8

720 x 506

Quran

134(?)

580 x 420

In-folio 840 x 580

Quran

ca. 1340–50

325 x 225

Quran

ca. 1340–50

540 x 370

Quran

ca. 1340–50

334 x 242

*

In-4

668 x 482

Quran

ca. 1340–50

475 x 370

*

In-4

950 x 740

al-Mukhtaṣar fī akhbār al- ca. 1300–50 bashar

305 x 230

In-4

620 x 460

Pentateuch

754/1353

385 x 265

In-folio? 530 x 385

Quran

757/1356

750 x 510

Quran

ca. 1356–58

380 x 280

In-8

1120 x 760

Ṣaḥīḥ Muslim 760/1359

315 x 215

In-8

860 x 630

Quran

762/1361

480 x 390

Quran

766/1365

302 x 225

*

In-folio 450 x 325 In-folio 740 x 540

*

*

In-folio 1020 x 750

In-folio 780 x 490 In-8

900 x 604

95

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Format Inventory number Type of text

RL

RL RL RL VL VL VL IM VL VL VL RL IM

Kitāb alBL MS talwīḥ ilá Or. 14160 sharḥ alJāmiʿ al-ṣaḥīḥ Khalili Ṣaḥīḥ alMS 0121 Bukhārī DAK MS Quran 148 DAK MS Quran 149 DAK MS Quran 6 DAK MS Quran 7 DAK MS Quran 80 DAK MS Quran 82 DAK MS Quran 9 DAK MS Quran 54 DAK MS Quran 10 Khalili Kitāb alMS 0122 mumtiʿ alBNF MS Minhāj wuṣūl ilá ʿilm Arabe 799 al-uṣūl

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DAK MS 15 DAK MS 62 CBL MS 4180

RL

CBL MS 3139

RL

CBL MS 4720 CBL MS 3073 BL MS Or. 12809 BNF MS Arabe 1572

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IM RL VL

Date

Folio Dimensions dimensions TrimFolding of sheet of ming (mm) paper (mm)

767/1366

272 x 190

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ca. 1350–70

240 x 170

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680 x 480

ca. 1350–70

267 x 188

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ca. 1350–70

252 x 186

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Waqf 769/1368

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845 x 530

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In-16?

1000 x 680

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ca. 1360–70

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773/1371–72

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Ṣaḥīḥ al- ca. 1360–80 Bukhārī Zubdat alaʿmāl wa- 784/1382 khulāṣat alafʿāl Ṣaḥīḥ al- 785/1383 Bukhārī Kitāb al- 790/1388 furūsiyya

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268 x 185

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792/1389–90

Zubdat alfikra fī tārīkh Waqf 1382–99 al-hijra

*

In-plano 1050 x 770

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Format Inventory number Type of text VL VL VL IM IM

VL

VL IM

IM

IM

DAK MS 12 DAK MS 11 JRL MS 82 CBL MS 1480 DAK MS 74 BNF MS Arabe 5844-46; DAK MS 125 DAK MS 120-21 DAK MS 123 BNF MS Arabe 5848-50; DAK MS 122 DAK MS 153

Date

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Quran

Waqf 1382–99

670 x 490

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801/1399

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ca. 1360–1400

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ca. 1350–1400

297 x 207

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828 x 594

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ca. 1380–1400

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ca. 1380–1400

375 x 260

In-8?

1120 x 750

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ca. 1380–1400

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In-8?

1140 x 740

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ca. 1380-1400

430 x 320

In-4

860 x 640

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ca. 1380–1400

425 x 305

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850 x 610

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ca. 1400

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Archives Cairo, DAK = Cairo, Dār al-Kutub Damascus, NM = Damascus, National Museum Dresden, SLUB = Universitätsbibliothek

Dresden,

Sächsische

Landesbibliothek–Staats-und-

Dublin, CBL = Dublin, Chester Beatty Library Hyderabad, Salar Jung = Hyderabad, Salar Jung Museum Istanbul, TIEM = Istanbul, Türk ve Islam Eserleri Müzesi Istanbul, TSM = Istanbul, Topkapı Sarayı Müzesi Jerusalem, NLI = Jerusalem, National Library of Israel Konya, Mevlana = Konya, Mevlana Museum Kuwait, DAI = Kuwait, The al-Sabah Collection, Dar al-Athar al-Islamiyyah

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Leipzig, Albertina = Leipzig, Bibliotheca Albertina London, BL = London, British Library London, Khalili = London, Khalili Collection Manchester, JRL = Manchester, John Rylands Library New York, Met = New York, Metropolitan Museum Paris, BNF = Paris, Bibliothèque Nationale de France Riyadh, KFF = Riyadh, King Faisal Foundation Sofia, NL = Sofia, SS. Cyril and Methodius National Library

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Bibliography

Published Sources Al-Qalqashandī, Ṣubḥ al-aʿshá fī ṣināʿat al-inshāʾ, 14 vols., Beirut 1987.

References Adle, Ch., Recherche sur le module et le tracé correcteur dans la miniature orientale, in Le Monde Iranien et l’Islam III, Paris 1975, 81–105. Amitai-Preiss, R., Mongols and Mamluks: The Mamluk-Īlkhānid War, 1260–81, Cambridge 1995. Bauden, F., The Sons of al-Nāṣir Muḥammad and the Politics of Puppets: Where Did It All Start?, in Mamlūk Studies Review 13, no. 1 (2009), 53-81. Behrens-Abouseif, D., Cairo of the Mamluks: A History of the Architecture and its Culture, London 2007. ———, Mamluk Perceptions of Foreign Arts, in idem (ed.), The Arts of the Mamlūks in Egypt and Syria: Evolution and Impact, Bonn, 2012, 301–18. ———, Practising Diplomacy in the Mamluk Sultanate: Gifts and Material Culture in the Medieval Islamic World, London 2014. Ben Azzouna, N., La Production de manuscrits en Iraq et en Iran occidental à l’époque des dynasties mongoles (les Ilkhānides et les Djalayirides 656– 814/1256–1411), Ph.D diss., École pratique des hautes études, 2009. ———, La Question des niveaux de production à travers trois études de «codicologie comparée» (Iraq, Iran occidental, XIIIe–XIVe s.), in Journal of Islamic Manuscripts 6 (2015), 133–56. Berkey, J.P., The Transmission of Knowledge in Medieval Cairo: A Social History of Islamic Education, Princeton 1992. Blair, Sh., Calligraphers, Illuminators, and Painters in the Ilkhanid Scriptorium, in L. Komaroff (ed.), Beyond the Legacy of Genghis Khan, Leiden and Boston 2006, 167–82. ———, Yāqūt and his Followers, in Manuscripta Orientalia 9, no. 3 (2003), 39– 47. Bloom, J.M., Paper before Print: The History and Impact of Paper in the Islamic World, New Haven 2001.

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Boud’Hors, A., Manuscrits coptes de papier (XIe–XIVe siècles): quelques éléments de caractérisation, in M. Zerdoun Bat-Yehouda (ed.), Le papier au Moyen Âge: histoire et technique, Turnhout 1999, 75–84. Bourdieu, P., Le Sens pratique, Paris 1980. Brac de la Perrière, É., L’Art du livre dans l’Inde des sultanats, Paris 2008. ———, Du Caire à Mandu: la transmission et circulation des modèles dans l’Inde des sultanats (XIIIe–XVIe siècles), in F. Richard and M. Szuppe (eds.), Ecrit et culture en Asie Centrale et dans le monde turco-iranien, Xe–XIXe siècles, Paris 2009, 333–58. Broadbridge, A.F. Kingship and Ideology in the Islamic and Mongol Worlds, Cambridge 2008. ———, Mamluk Legitimacy and the Mongols: the Reigns of Baybars and Qalāwūn, in Mamlūk Studies Review 5 (2001), 91–118. Chaigne, F., L’Enluminure dans l’empire Īl-khānide, Ph.D diss., Université ParisSorbonne IV, 2014. ———, and M. Cruvelier, The Ornamentation of the Gwalior Qur’an, between Diachronic Legacies and Geographic Confluences, in É. Brac de la Perrière and M. Burési (eds.), Le Coran de Gwalior: Polysémie d’un manuscrit à peintures, Paris 2016, 17–56. Creswell, K.A.C., The Muslim Architecture of Egypt, 2 vols., Oxford 1952–9. Déroche, F. (ed.), Manuel de codicologie des manuscrits en écriture arabe, Paris 2000. Ettinghausen, R., Manuscript illumination, in A.U. Pope and Ph. Ackermann (eds.), A Survey of Persian Art: From Prehistoric Times to the Present, vol. 5, London 1964. ———, La peinture arabe, Geneva 1962. Fischel, W.J., Ibn Khaldūn and Tamerlane: Their Historic Meeting in Damascus, 1401 A.D. (803 A.H.): A Study Based on Arabic Manuscripts of Ibn Khaldūn’s “Autobiography,” with a Translation into English, and a Commentary, Berkeley 1952. Fraser, M., Geometry in Gold: An Illuminated Mamlūk Qurʾān Section, London 2005. Gacek, A., Arabic Manuscripts: A Vademecum for Readers, Leiden 2009. Gray, B., The Monumental Qurʾans of the Ilkhanid and Mamluk Ateliers of the First Quarter of the Fourteenth Century (Eighth Century H.), in Rivista degli Studi Orientali 59 (1985), 135–46.

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Haarmann, U., Arabic in Speech, Turkish in Lineage: Mamluks and Their Sons in the Intellectual Life of Fourteenth-Century Egypt and Syria, in Journal of Semitic Studies 33, no. 1 (1988), 81–114. Humbert, G., Le Manuscrit arabe et ses papiers, in Revue des mondes musulmans et de la Méditerranée 99–100 (2002), 55–77. Irigoin, J., Les Papiers non filigranés: état présent des recherches et perspectives d’avenir, in M. Maniaci and P.F. Munafò (eds.), Ancient and Medieval Book Materials and Techniques, vol. 1, Vatican City 1993, 265–312. Irwin, R., The Middle East in the Middle Ages: The Early Mamluk Sultanate, 1250–1382, London 1986. James, D., Qurʾāns of the Mamlūks, London 1988. ———, The Master Scribes: Qurʾans of the 10th to 14th centuries AD., London 1992. ———, More Qurʾāns of the Mamlūks, in Manuscripta Orientalia 13 (2007), 3– 16. Karabacek, J., von, Arab Paper, trans. D. Baker and S. Dittmar, London 1991. Lapidus, I.M., Mamluk Patronage and the Arts in Egypt: Concluding Remarks, inMuqarnas 2 (1984), 173–81. Levanoni, A., A Turning Point in Mamlūk History: The Third Reign of al-Nāṣīr Muḥammad Ibn Qalāwūn (1310–1341), Leiden 1995. Little, D.P., Notes on Aitamiš, a Mongol Mamlūk, in U. Haarmann and P. Bachmann (eds.), Die islamische Welt zwischen Mittelalter und Neuzeit: Festschrift für Hans Robert Roemer, zum 65. Geburtstag, Wiesbaden 1979, 387–401. ———, Diplomatic Missions and Gifts Exchanged by Mamluks and Ilkhans, in L. Komaroff (ed.), Beyond the Legacy of Genghis Khan, Leiden 2006, 30–42. Muhanna, E.I., The Sultan’s New Clothes: Ottoman-Mamluk Gift Exchange in the Fifteenth century, in Muqarnas 27 (2010), 189–207. Northrup, L.S., The Baḥrī Mamlūk Sultanate, 1250–1390, in C.F. Petry (ed.), The Cambridge History of Egypt, vol. 1, Islamic Egypt, 640–1517, Cambridge 1998, 242–89. Petry, C.F., The Civilian Elite of Cairo in the Later Middle Ages, Princeton 1981. Polosin, V., To the Method of Describing Illuminated Arabic Manuscripts, in Manuscripta Orientalia 1, no. 2 (1995), 16–21. ———, Frontispieces on Scale Canvas in Arabic Manuscripts, in Manuscripta Orientalia 2 (1996), 5–19.

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Porter, Y., La Réglure (mastar): de la ‘formule d’atelier’ aux jeux de l’esprit, in Studia Islamica 96 (2003), 55–74. Prezbindowski, L., The Ilkhanid Mongols, the Christian Armenians, and the Islamic Mamluks: a study of their relations, 1220-1335, Ph.D diss., University of Louisville 2012. Raymond, A., and G. Wiet, Les Marchés du Caire: traduction annotée du texte de Maqrīzī, Cairo 1979. Rettig, S., La Production manuscrite à Chiraz sous les Aq Qoyunlu entre 1467 et 1503, Ph.D diss., Université Aix-Marseille 2011.

MAMLUK-TIMURID EMBASSY EXCHANGES AND THE GIFTING OF A MĀTURĪDĪ TAFSĪR A HISTORICAL AND BIO-BIBLIOGRAPHICAL INQUIRY Fadi RAGHEB

Introduction In his 887/1482 chronicle Maṭlaʿ-i saʿdayn va majmaʿ-i baḥrayn, Kamāl al-Dīn ʿAbd al-Razzāq al-Samarqandī1 describes the scene at the court of Shāh Rukh (r. 811–50/1409–47) when an embassy from the court of the Mamluk sultan al-Malik al-Ẓāhir Jaqmaq (r. 842–57/1438–53) arrives at Herat in 843/1439–40.2 The mission of the Mamluk embassy was to confirm Jaqmaq’s enthronement in a message to the Timurid ruler Shāh Rukh and to establish cordial relations between the two courts. During its stay, the embassy requested a set of religious texts from the Timurid court. Al-Samarqandī writes: 1

2

An earlier and less detailed version of this paper was completed for my History of Persia graduate course with Professor Maria Subtelny at the University of Toronto’s Department of Near and Middle Eastern Civilizations. I would like to thank Professor Subtelny for her guidance during the writing of this paper and for her valued input on my abstract submission for the 2016 Third Conference of the School of Mamlūk Studies (SMS) at the University of Chicago, where I presented a version of this chapter. I would also like to thank Professor Linda S. Northrup for her continuous guidance, and for opening up the world of Mamluk studies during her indispensable seminars on medieval Islam. My thanks also go to Professor Frédéric Bauden, for chairing our panel at the Third SMS Conference, and to my colleague on the panel, Professor Malika Dekkiche, especially for her generous sharing of her research on this subject. I would also like to thank Professor Walid Saleh for his guidance in maneuvering through the complex world of tafsīr studies and his generosity in sharing his copy of al-Māturīdī’s tafsīr. Any shortcomings in this paper, however, should only be attributed to the author. On al-Samarqandī, see Haase, Abd-Al-Razzaq Samarqandi; Manz, ʿAbd al-Razzāq Samarqandī; Barthold and Shafīʿ, ʿAbd al-Razzāḳ; Manz, Power, Politics, and Religion 57–67. On the reign of Sultan Jaqmaq, see Sobernheim, Čaḳmaḳ; Garcin, Regime 293–309; for Mamluk-Timurid relations, see Dekkiche, New Source, passim; idem, Correspondence, passim; idem, Diplomacy at Its Zenith, passim; Manz, Mongol history, in her discussion of Shāh Rukh’s utilization of religious devotion as a source of legitimation, where it manifested in the foreign relations sphere, in particular in his diplomatic correspondence with the Mamluks, including Jaqmaq. Much of recent work on Mamluk-Timurid relations is due to Frédéric Bauden’s recent re-examination of MS Ar. 4440 (BNF, Paris), a collection of copies of chancery letters that shed new light on relations between Timurid rulers and Circassian sultans (Bauden, Les relations diplomatiques).

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the esteemed commanders, Commander ʿAlāʾ al-Dīn ʿAlikah Kukaltāsh and Commander Jalāl al-Dīn Fīrūzshāh, and the Grand Vizier Khvājah Ghiyāth alDīn Pīr Aḥmad Īlchī were summoned to the tents, and a great amount of effort was made to prepare a big wineskin [for them], [and] horses, robes, and other luxurious goods were given away [to them]. And at that time, Īlchī arrived at the most sublime throne and through the commanders he presented [to Shāh Rukh] that Sultan Chaqmāq is asking for five books from the library of the Sultan of the Horizons, and he [Chaqmāq] is hoping that the sultan grants [his wish]: Taʾwīlāt ahl al-sunna by Shaykh Abū Manṣūr al-Māturīdī and Tafsīr-i-kabīr by Imām Fakhr al-Dīn [al-Rāzī], and Sharḥ-i talkhīṣ-i jāmiʿ and Sharḥ-i kashshāf by Mavlānā ʿAlāʾ al-Dīn Pahlavān... His majesty granted Īlchī’s request, and although all these books were available, he asked for all of them to be written and completed with covers, as well as lines around the text.3

About half a century later, the chronicler Ghiyāth al-Dīn Khwāndamīr, who relies on al-Samarqandī’s reports in Maṭlaʿ-i saʿdayn for his account of Shāh Rukh’s rule,4 records the same event but in a shorter form in his chronicle Tārīkh-i Ḥabīb al-siyar fī akhbār-i afrād-i bashar (Habibu’s-Siyar).5 Writing in ca. 942/1535–36, Khwāndamīr portrays the same embassy but with Jijukbughā (Chechäk-Buqa), the dawādār of Syria at the time,6 as its head. Similar to alSamarqandī’s account, Khwāndamīr states that the embassy requested, among other works, a copy of the great tafsīr of Abū Manṣūr Muḥammad ibn Muḥammad al-Māturīdī (d. 333/944), Taʾwīlāt ahl al-sunna:

3

Al-Samarqandī, Maṭlaʿ-i saʿdayn ii, 725:

‫عليكـه كـو ـكلتــاش واميــر جـلال الـ ّديـن فيــروز شـاه و دستــور ا ـعظـم‬ ‫همچنيـــن امـراى ـعظـام اميــر عـلاء الـ ّديـن ـ ــ‬ ‫ ـ ـ‬... ‫حمـد ا ــيلچـى را بـه وثـا ـقهـا طلــب فـرمـودنـد و طـوى بـزرگ بـه ـتكلّــف كـرده اسـب و جـامـه و‬ ‫خـواجـه غيــاث الـ ّديـن پيــر ا ـ‬ ‫سيلـۀ امـرا بـه مـوقـف عـرض‬ ‫سيـد بـه و ـ ـ‬ ‫يلچـى در آن زمـان كـه بـه پـايـۀ سـريـر ا ـعلـى ر ـ‬ ‫تكلّـفـات بـذل ـنمـودنـد و ا ـ ـ‬ ‫د ـيگـر ـ ـ‬ ‫سلطـان آفـاق پنــج كتــاب ا ــلتمـاس مـى ـنمـايـد و اميــدوار اسـت كـه آن‬ ‫چقمـاق از كتــب خـانـۀ ـ ـ‬ ‫سلطـان ـ ـ‬ ‫رسـانيــد كـه ـ ـ‬ ‫تفسيــر كبيـــر امـام ـفخـر الـديـن و شـرح‬ ‫منصـور مـاتـريـدى و ـ ـ‬ ‫ تـأويـلات اهـل سنّــت شيــخ ابـو ــ‬:‫حضـرت عنــايـت فـرمـايـد‬ ‫ـ‬ ‫ملتمـس ا ــيلچـى مبــذول فـرمـود و بـا آن كـه‬ ‫حضـرت ـــ‬ ‫ آن ـ‬...‫كشـاف مـولانـا عـلاء الـ ّديـن ـپهلــوان‬ ّ ‫ــتلخيــص جـامـع و شـرح ـ‬ ... ‫مجموع آن كتب موجود بود همه رااستكتاب نمود و به جلد و جدول مك ّمل شد‬ 4 5

6

I’m grateful to the reviewer who directed my attention to this quote from al-Samarqandī. I’m also very thankful to Dr. Parisa Zahiremami for her judicious translation of this quote from Persian to English. Manz, ʿAbd al-Razzāq Samarqandī. Khwāndamīr, Habibu’s-Siyar iii/2, 345b. On Khwāndamīr, see Beveridge and de Bruijn, Khwāndamīr; Szuppe, Historiography v. Timurid period. On the reign of Shāh Rukh, see especially Manz, Power, Politics and Religion 12–48 and passim; idem, Shāh Rukh; idem, “Temür and the early Timurids 188–92; Roemer, Successors of Tīmūr 98–105; Subtelny, Tamerlane 180–83; Ashrafyan, Central Asia 342–45; Mukminova, Timurid states 347–51. Dekkiche, New Source 253.

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During those days Chechäk-Buqa said that Sultan Chaqmaq wanted five highly esteemed books from the emperor’s library: Shaykh Abu-Mansur Māturīdī’s Taʾwīlāt, the Tafsīr-i-kabir of Allama Razi, Khwaja Masʿud Bukhari’s Sharh-iTalkhis-i-Jamiʿ, the Sharh-i-Kashshaf of Mawlana Alaʾuddin Pahlawan, and the Rawda on the Shafiite sect. Since all of these books were in the royal library, His Majesty ordered that each of the five books should be calligraphed and ruled and presented to Chechäk-Buqa.7

Since Shāh Rukh had a kitābkhānah, or scriptorium, with a legion of calligraphers, binders, and illustrators, it is not surprising that this request was made. At the time, the courts of Timur’s descendants were undergoing what has been referred to as a “Timurid renaissance,” with contributions in many different architectural, intellectual, and artistic fields, including book production.8 Furthermore, considering the diffusion of Hanafism among Turkic dynasties such as the Timurids and the Mamluks, it is significant here that al-Māturīdī’s tafsīr is among the works requested by Sultan Jaqmaq. After all, Māturīdī Hanafism was one of the prominent theological schools in the Timurid and Mamluk realms.9

7 8

9

Khwāndamīr, Habibu’s-Siyar iii/2, 345b. Hodgson, Venture of Islam ii, 490–3, 511–4; Manz, Mongol history, passim, for deployment of religious renaissance for legitimation of rule; idem, Tamerlane’s career 6–10, and 10ff. for the continuation of such a “brilliant cultural milieu” into other regions and periods, such as the Mughals and Safavids; idem, Temür and the early Timurids 194–6; Biran, Mongol Transformation 356–7; Roux, Histoire des grand Moghols 51–93; Subtelny, Timurids in Transition 40– 41; idem, Sociocultural bases 479–80 and n. 1; Dale, Legacy of the Timurids 43ff., discussing the Timurid cultural efflorescence in Herat followed by appropriation of its legacy in India, Uzbeki Turk dynasties, and in the Ottoman Empire; Blair and Bloom, Art and Architecture 55–69, especially 56–63, regarding book production during the earlier Timurid period; on the scriptorium during the Timurid renaissance, see Lentz and Lowry, Timur and the Princely Vision 159–204; for examples of Qurans produced during this period, see James, After Timur 14–45; for Timurid album and book production, see Roxburgh, Persian Album 28–9 and 85– 179; for an example of the Timurid renaissance in terms of the proliferation of educational institutions, see Subtelny, Timurid Educational 226–36. It was the Samanids (third–fourth/ninth–tenth centuries) who helped cement Hanafism as the Sunni creed of Transoxiana. This statement on Hanafism was expounded in the Kitāb alSawād al-aʿẓam by Abū al-Qāsim Isḥāq al-Ḥākim al-Samarqandī (d. 342/953). The work presented the Hanafi creed as the unified religious doctrine for the Samanids and Transoxiana. Furthermore, to refute Muʾtazilite theology, the Kitāb al-Sawād al-aʿẓam also incorporated the theological teachings of al-Ḥākim al-Samarqandī’s teacher, al-Māturīdī (see, for example, alSamarqandī, Kitāb al-Sawād 6, 10, 11, 33, 35, 45, 46). As a result, the Kitāb cemented Māturīdī Hanafism as the Sunni creed of, first, the Samanid dynasty and, later, the Turks. With its egalitarian doctrine, it helped convert to Islam Persian and Turkish subjects in Transoxiana. After the decline of the Samanids, the Saljuq Turks propagated the Māturīdī Hanafism of eastern Transoxiana across western Iran and the Near East, spreading their creed as far as Anatolia, where the Ottomans continued to hold Māturīdī Hanafism as the creed of their empire down to the modern period: Madelung, Religious Trends 14–8, 30–1; idem, Spread of Mā-

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Furthermore, Jaqmaq’s embassy and the cordial relations it sought with the court of Shāh Rukh represented a welcome reprieve from the previous hostile relations between Shāh Rukh and Jaqmaq’s predecessor, Sultan Barsbāy. Indeed, Mamluk-Timurid relations improved significantly over the reigns of Jaqmaq and Shāh Rukh, ending tensions between the two realms that were manifested in certain diplomatic and religious conflicts, such as competition over the Kaʿba’s kiswa (which we now know was the inner kiswa, “ilbās dākhil al-Kaʿba”), taxing merchants in the Hijaz, religious authority over the Haram in Mecca, and other matters.10 While diplomatic relations between the courts of Jaqmaq and Shāh Rukh have been previously examined, the whereabouts of some of these books that were exchanged between the two courts has not been investigated. More specifically, the fate of the copy of al-Māturīdī’s Taʾwīlāt that was produced by Shāh Rukh’s court and gifted to Jaqmaq’s embassy is still unknown. This study will therefore attempt to locate this copy, which was produced in 843/1439–40. In order to discover its current location, several avenues of research will be investigated. First, the bio-bibliographical works on medieval Islamic literature will be researched to track it down. Next, research will turn to published editions of the work in order to find whether the editors of the published versions of the Taʾwīlāt used a manuscript dating from 843. Finally, the investigation will explore the Mamluk chronicles of Sultan Jaqmaq’s reign to unearth any reference to a copy of alMāturīdī’s work given by Shāh Rukh to the embassy of the Mamluk ruler.

10

turīdīsm 109; idem, Abu’l-Qasem Eshaq Samarqandi; idem, Māturīdiyya; Swartz, Hanafite Madhab. On the conversion to and spread of Hanafism among the Turks, see Heffening and Schacht, Hanafiyya; for the Timurid period, including Shāh Rukh’s reign, see Bruckmayr, Spread and Persistence 63–6. For a more comprehensive statement on al-Māturīdī’s thought and the theological milieu during his time, including the impact of Kitāb al-Sawād al-aʿẓam, see Rudolph, Al-Māturīdī and the Development 97–121, 201ff.; on shedding new light on the importance of al-Māturīdī’s tafsīr, see Saleh, Rereading al-Ṭabarī. It is interesting to note, however, that although Māturīdī Hanafism was the leading theological school, his Taʾwīlāt was not mentioned in the curricula of higher learning during Shāh Rukh’s reign: see Subtelny and Khalidov, Curriculum of Islamic 226–36. For Barsbāy-Shāh Rukh relations and the struggle over providing the clothing for the Kaʿba, especially its inner kiswa, see Dekkiche, New Source 247–53, 262–3; idem, Correspondence 136–7; idem, Diplomacy at Its Zenith passim. For the study of diplomatic relations between Mamluk Cairo and other Muslim and non-Muslim powers, including the Timurids, see the recently published collection of essays in Bauden and Dekkiche (eds.), Mamluk Cairo, especially contributions in Part 3. As for the new understanding that the struggle between the two realms was over the inner kiswa of the Kaʿba rather than the outer kiswa, this is the result of the re-examination of the corpus of official letters in MS Ar. 4440 (Paris, BNF). The letters clarify that it was the inner kiswa, in contrast to the literary sources which do not distinguish it as the inner one but only refer to it as the kiswa: see the discussion below on the historiographical sources’ reference to the kiswa.

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The study will show that although the investigation could not specifically locate the 843 copy of al-Māturīdī’s Taʾwīlāt, the results point to the presence of several editions dating from the same century. The study will also identify a number of undated copies of the work currently available in several libraries, including libraries in Berlin, Istanbul, Kayseri, Konya, and Tashkent. Additionally, investigating the Mamluk literary sources on Jaqmaq’s reign, such as chronicles and biographical dictionaries, has further confirmed many important aspects of the relations between Shāh Rukh’s court and the Mamluk sultanate. Several embassies from Shāh Rukh’s court arrived in Cairo during Jaqmaq’s reign, and relations between the two courts, according to the Mamluk chronicles, were cordial. This, coupled with the biographical dictionaries’ description of Jaqmaq as a ruler with a passion for religious learning and a love of books, would support the possibility that a copy of al-Māturīdī’s Taʾwīlāt was indeed brought from Shāh Rukh’s court at the request of the sultan. While the fate and exact current location of this specific manuscript remain unknown, further avenues of exploration are identified that provide the next steps to continue this investigation. In Search of the 843 Copy of al-Māturīdī’s Taʾwīlāt Bio-Bibliographical Works The first avenue for finding manuscripts of al-Māturīdī’s Taʾwīlāt ahl alsunna is the bio-bibliographical catalogues on Islamic works.11 Ḥājjī Khalīfa’s Kashf al-ẓunūn ʿan asāmī al-kutub wa-l-funūn was consulted first. Kashf al-ẓunūn has an entry for al-Māturīdī’s Taʾwīlāt ahl al-sunna.12 It follows a short essay on ʿilm al-taʾwīl. The entry on al-Māturīdī’s Taʾwīlāt includes al-Māturīdī’s full name as the author, his year of death, and a sentence praising the work as unrivalled in the genre of ʿilm al-taʾwīl.13 Interestingly, Ḥājjī Khalīfa also catalogues another work related to alMāturīdī’s Quranic exegesis, al-Taʾwīlāt al-Māturīdiyya fī bayān uṣūl ahl alsunna wa-uṣūl al-tawḥīd.14 However, Ḥājjī Khalīfa warns that this work was not authored by al-Māturīdī but rather is an eight-volume collection of exegetical material borrowed from him and put together by one of his colleagues, ʿAlāʾ alDīn Muḥammad ibn Aḥmad ibn Abī Aḥmad al-Samarqandī.15 Al-Taʾwīlāt alMāturīdiyya, Ḥājjī Khalīfa writes, was erroneously ascribed to al-Māturīdī. Inter-

11

12 13 14 15

For a survey of bio-bibliographical references, see Subtelny and Khalidov, Curriculum of Islamic; see also Tezcan, Hanafism and the Turks. Ḥājjī Khalīfa, Kashf al-ẓunūn ii, 335–6. Ibid. 336. Ibid. Ibid.

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estingly, both Fuat Sezgin and Carl Brockelmann refer to it,16 as will be indicated below, under the entry for al-Māturīdī, and they both include the author of the work as Abū Bakr Muḥammad ibn Aḥmad al-Samarqandī.17 Al-Māturīdī’s Taʾwīlāt ahl al-sunna is also included in ʿUmar Riḍā Kaḥḥāla’s Muʿjam al-muʾallifīn, under the entry for “Muḥammad al-Māturīdī.”18 However, Kaḥḥāla attributes two tafsīr works to al-Māturīdī, Taʾwīlāt ahl al-sunna and Taʾwīlāt al-Qurʾān.19 This may be an error, due to the fact that Māturīdī’s tafsīr has been given both titles. For example, Kashf al-ẓunūn refers to it as Taʾwīlāt ahl al-sunna and does not indicate that al-Māturīdī authored a work called Taʾwīlāt al-Qurʾān.20 On the other hand, Sezgin and Brockelmann have the work under the title Taʾwīlāt al-Qurʾān, but neither compiler refers to the title Taʾwīlāt ahl al-sunna under al-Māturīdī’s entry.21 Wilferd Madelung, in his entry on al-Māturīdī in the Encyclopaedia of Islam (second edition), refers to it as Kitāb Taʾwīlāt al-Qurʾān as well, referencing the 1971 published edition of the work (edited by Ibrāhīm ʿAwaḍayn and al-Sayyid ʿAwaḍayn).22 Yet this 1971 edition, as will be described later, actually uses the title Taʾwīlāt ahl al-sunna, or more specifically Tafsīr al-Māturīdī al-musammá Taʾwīlāt ahl al-sunna. Furthermore, Khwāndamīr’s Habibu’s-Siyar refers to the work as simply “Māturīdī’s Taʾwīlāt,” but al-Samarqandī refers to it as “Taʾwīlāt ahl al-sunna”;23 the translator in note 116 refers to it as Taʾwīlāt al-Qurʾān,24 perhaps giving it this title after consulting Sezgin’s and/or Brockelmann’s entries on al-Māturīdī. The confusion over the two different titles for the same work may be due to scribes carelessly using either of the two names. It is also possible that over time the proper title, Taʾwīlāt ahl al-sunna, may have simply been replaced with Taʾwīlāt al-Qurʾān to indicate to the reader that the work is related to the tafsīr genre rather than, perhaps, Sunni fiqh or hadith criticism. Yet the published editions of al-Māturīdī’s exegesis, as the next section will demonstrate, give the title Taʾwīlāt ahl al-sunna or, as in the case for one edition, Taʾwīlāt al-Māturīdī almusammá Taʾwīlāt ahl al-sunna. The editors of these editions are all from the Middle East and they may have consulted the Arabic-language bio-bibliographical work Kashf al-ẓunūn, which gives the title Taʾwīlāt ahl al-sunna, rather than the 16

17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24

Sezgin, Geschichte des arabischen Schrifttums (hereinafter GAS); Brockelmann, Geschichte der arabischen Litteratur (hereinafter GAL). Sezgin, GAS i, 605; Brockelmann, GAL i, 209, S i, 346. Kaḥḥāla, Muʿjam al-muʾallifīn iii, 692a (no. 15849). Ibid. Ḥājjī Khalīfa, Kashf al-ẓunūn i, 335–6. Sezgin, GAS i, 605; Brockelmann, GAL i, 209, S i, 346. Al-Māturīdī, Tafsīr al-Māturīdī, ed. ʿAwaḍayn and ʿAwaḍayn; cited in Madelung, al-Māturīdī. Khwāndamīr, Habibu’s-Siyar iii/2, 345b. Ibid. 3/2, 635a.

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works of Sezgin or Brockelmann who both have Taʾwīlāt al-Qurʾān. Nevertheless, this probably indicates that, despite the title Sezgin and Brockelmann use, Taʾwīlāt ahl al-sunna must have been used in certain manuscripts, and the specific manuscripts consulted by the editors of the published editions may all have, coincidently, the same title—in this case, Taʾwīlāt ahl al-sunna. The search for the manuscript from Shāh Rukh’s court turns next to Fuat Sezgin’s Geschichte des Arabischen Schrifttums. Under the entry for al-Māturīdī, Sezgin lists Taʾwīlāt al-Qurʾān. 25 Sezgin provides a long list of manuscripts for the Taʾwīlāt, which can be found in many different libraries around the world. The convenience of consulting Sezgin’s work, in contrast to Brockelmann’s, is that it provides a list of manuscripts of a particular work, together with information on each manuscript, including the year it was copied. More than forty Taʾwīlāt al-Qurʾān manuscripts are listed. The dates of these manuscripts range from as early as the sixth hijrī century to as late as the twelfth century. However, there is no manuscript dating from—or around—843, the year in which, according to al-Samarqandī and Khwāndamīr, the manuscript under discussion was copied at Shāh Rukh’s court. There is one manuscript in the Köprülü Mehmet Paşa library in Istanbul (no. 48) that dates from the ninth hijrī century, which makes it a contender for being the manuscript in question. 26 There is also a copy in Dār al-Kutub al-Miṣriyya in Cairo (no. 873 tafsīr) that dates from the year 818, which, though it is during the reign of Shāh Rukh, falls in the reign of Jaqmaq’s predecessor, Sultan al-Muʾayyad Shaykh. Furthermore, this manuscript was copied by one Aḥmad ibn Muḥammad ibn Yūsuf al-Khālidī al-Ṣafadī al-Ḥanafī.27 The name of the scribe, together with the location of the manuscript, makes it more likely that it was copied in makes it more likely that it was copied in Bilād al-Shām or Cairo than in Herat. As indicated earlier, under the entry for Taʾwīlāt ahl al-sunna Sezgin also provides a list of manuscripts for al-Taʾwīlāt alMāturīdiyya which was authored by Abū Bakr Muḥammad ibn Aḥmad alSamarqandī.28 Significantly, Sezgin includes several undated manuscripts. These may provide an avenue for further research to track down Shāh Rukh’s copy of the Taʾwīlāt. The undated manuscripts include copies in Berlin (Fol. 4156), Istanbul (Topkapı Saray Library [no. Medine, 179]) and Selim Ağa Library [no. 40]), Kayseri’s Raşid Efendi library (no. 47), Konya’s Yusuf Ağa Library (no. 5552), and Tashkent’s Akademia Nauk Uzbekskoj (nos. 5126–5127).29 Consulting these 25 26 27 28 29

Sezgin, GAS i, 604–6. Ibid. i, 605. ʿAwaḍayn and ʿAwaḍayn, Muqaddima 28. Sezgin, GAS i, 605; see Ḥājjī Khalīfa, Kashf al-ẓunūn i, 336. Sezgin, GAS i, 605.

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manuscripts to determine whether any date from 843 would be a desirable next step in this investigation. There is also a manuscript in Ragip Paşa Library (no. 35) in Istanbul30 that dates from 890. Although this date is after the reign of Shāh Rukh, it could nevertheless be consulted to see where it was copied. Carl Brockelmann’s Geschichte der arabischen Litteratur was also consulted, along with its supplemental volumes. Brockelmann includes a very short list of manuscripts of al-Māturīdī’s Taʾwīlāt,31 all of which are included in Sezgin’s work. As such, none of the manuscripts listed by Brockelmann can be the actual copy from Shāh Rukh’s court. Researching Published Editions of al-Māturīdī’s Taʾwīlāt After consulting the bio-bibliographical works, the study turned to published editions of al-Māturīdī’s Taʾwīlāt. This step was taken to identify whether any of the manuscripts collated by the editors of these editions refer to a copy made in 843 in Shāh Rukh’s court. In total, three different published editions were found and consulted. The oldest, edited by Ibrāhīm ʿAwaḍayn and al-Sayyid ʿAwaḍayn, was published in 1971 in Cairo.32 In their introduction, the editors state that they consulted two manuscripts, both from Dār al-Kutub al-Miṣriyya: one dating from 818 (no. 873 tafsīr) and another that was a copy of an 1165 manuscript from Qawāla Library in Cairo.33 Therefore, none of the manuscripts consulted by the editors of this published version refer to Shāh Rukh’s copy from 843. This is also the case with the other editions of the Taʾwīlāt. A 1983 edition published in Baghdad consulted four different manuscripts, but none of them referred to a manuscript dating from 843.34 Similarly, a 2004 edition published in Beirut35 consulted two manuscripts. The first is from Damascus (Al-Asad National Library), dating from 1229. The other is the 1165 manuscript from Dār al-Kutub al-Miṣriyya (no. 6 tafsīr).36 Therefore, none of these published editions used a manuscript that dates from Shāh Rukh’s reign.37

30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37

Ibid. Brockelmann, GAL i, 209, S i, 346. Al-Māturīdī, Tafsīr al-Māturīdī. ʿAwaḍayn and ʿAwaḍayn, Muqaddima 28; for Qawāla Library, see Sezgin, GAS i, 712. Al-Māturīdī, Taʾwīlāt ahl al-sunna (1983). Al-Māturīdī, Taʾwīlāt ahl al-sunna (2004). Al-Khaymī, al-Muqaddima 17. It is my understanding that a recent edition of al-Māturīdī’s Taʾwīlāt was published in Turkey, but I was not able to consult this copy. Therefore another avenue of research would be to consult the manuscripts used in it.

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Researching the Mamluk Chronicles on Jaqmaq’s Reign To locate the copy of al-Māturīdī’s Taʾwīlāt that, according to the accounts of Maṭlaʿ-i saʿdayn and Habibu’s-Siyar, was made at Shāh Rukh’s court in 843 for the embassies of Jaqmaq, the investigation turns next to the rich genre of Mamluk chronicles. After a brief overview of the historiographical sources dating from or after Jaqmaq’s reign (842–57/1438–53), the Mamluk chronicles will be explored to identify any reference to an 843 al-Māturīdī manuscript. The study will also reveal aspects of the relations between Sultan Jaqmaq and Shāh Rukh, specifically the exchange of embassies and gifts between the two courts.38 Historiography of Jaqmaq’s Reign (842–57/1438–53) The art of history writing flourished exponentially during the Mamluk period, including during the reign of al-Malik al-Ẓāhir Sayf al-Dīn Jaqmaq in the middle of the ninth/fifteenth century. Importantly, Jaqmaq’s rule was contemporaneous with some of the greatest Mamluk chroniclers, such as al-Maqrīzī (766–845/1364–1442), al-Sakhāwī (830–902/1427–1497), Ibn Iyās (852– 930/1448–1524), and, perhaps the greatest Mamluk chronicler, Ibn Taghrībirdī (812–74/1409–70).39 Chroniclers reporting on the Mamluk epoch came from the typical backgrounds that supplied the historians of medieval Islam: mainly court officials and religious scholars.40 This was also the case during the reign of Jaqmaq. For example, al-Maqrīzī was a court official who held the post of market inspector during the reign of Sultan Barqūq (784–801/1382–99). Al-Sakhāwī, on the other hand, was a religious scholar who was a hadith specialist and a student of Ibn Ḥajar al-ʿAsqalānī (773–852/1372–1449), the greatest hadith scholar of the period.41 Additionally, the Mamluk period witnessed a new class of historians, chroniclers with Mamluk family background who are close to the Mamluk military institution.42 Ibn Taghrībirdī belonged to this new breed, being the son of a leading Mamluk amir, and as an official of Turkish background, he attracted the

38

39 40 41 42

The historiographical sources consulted for Sultan Jaqmaq’s reign are the following: alMaqrīzī, Kitāb al-sulūk; Ibn Taghrībirdī, al-Nujūm al-zāhira; idem, Ḥawādith al-duhūr; idem, al-Manhal al-ṣāfī; al-Sakhāwī, al-Ḍawʾ al-lāmiʿ; Ibn Iyās, Badāʾiʿ al-zuhūr. For a survey of Mamluk historiography, see Little, Historiography; Irwin, Mamlūk history and historians. Little, Historiography 436ff. Ibid. 420. Irwin, Mamlūk history 162. Little, Historiography 420.

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friendship and favor of the sultanate.43 Similarly, Ibn Iyās was a grandson of Mamluk officers with access to the court.44 Taqī al-Dīn Aḥmad al-Maqrīzī was a student of the great Ibn Khaldūn (732–808/1332–1406). He was a market inspector of Cairo during the reign of Barqūq, but later lost court patronage.45 He even accused the Mamluks of dispensing with the sharīʿa and replacing it with the pagan yasa code.46 He wrote a topographical history of Cairo, al-Mawāʿiẓ wa-l-iʿtibār bi-dhikr al-khiṭaṭ wa-l-āthār,47 and also wrote nostalgically of the Fatimids in his work Kitāb ittiʿāẓ al-ḥunafāʾ.48 His fame among modern scholars is partly due to the fact that all the leading historians from the later Burji Mamluk period were his students. Indeed, his students included two of the greatest Mamluk chroniclers, Ibn Taghrībirdī and alSakhāwī.49 Nevertheless, al-Maqrīzī’s fame is also the result of having his universal chronicle published early on in the West.50 Kitāb al-sulūk li-maʿrifat duwal almulūk51 covers the period 1169–1441, and will be one of the chronicles investigated in this study. A famous student of al-Maqrīzī who wrote important chronicles of the Mamluk period is Ibn Taghrībirdī. Born into a Mamluk family, Abū al-Maḥāsin Yūsuf Ibn Taghrībirdī was the son of a leading amir and had access to the ruling circles of Cairo.52 His chronicles are extremely important for their detailed insight into the political events and personalities of his period. Looking at his works and their content, it is easy to see why he is indispensable to the field of Mamluk studies.53 Indeed, Ibn Taghrībirdī wrote not just one but three separate works on the Mamluk era. His most famous chronicle is al-Nujūm al-zāhira fī mulūk Miṣr wa-lQāhira,54 an annalistic history full of details on the Mamluk sultanate, its personnel, and its political affairs.55 The second important work is Ḥawādith al-duhūr fī madá al-ayyām wa-l-shuhūr,56 which picks up where al-Maqrīzī’s Kitāb al-sulūk 43 44 45 46 47 48 49 50 51 52 53 54 55 56

Irwin, Mamlūk history 168. Ibid. 169. Ibid. 167. Ibid. Little, Historiography 436. Irwin, Mamlūk history 167. Little, Historiography 436. Ibid. Al-Maqrīzī, Kitāb al-sulūk. Irwin, Mamlūk history 168. Little, Historiography 438–9. Ibn Taghrībirdī, al-Nujūm al-zāhira. Irwin, Mamlūk history 168. Ibn Taghrībirdī, Ḥawādith al-duhūr.

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left off, namely from the year 845. It is a more detailed account of the period that dedicates more space to the obituaries at the end of each year. Ibn Taghrībirdī also wrote a biographical ṭabaqāt dictionary, al-Manhal al-ṣāfī wa-l-mustawfá baʿda al-wāfī,57 which focuses mostly on important political figures from the Mamluk period. Muḥammad ibn ʿAbd al-Raḥmān al-Sakhāwī is another important Mamluk chronicler who was a hadith specialist and a student of the great Ibn Ḥajar alʿAsqalānī. Trained as a hadith scholar, al-Sakhāwī was, not surprisingly, a fierce critic of the Mamluk sultanate. He attacked their arrogance, and critiqued other historians, such as Ibn Khaldūn, al-Maqrīzī, and Ibn Taghrībirdī, for their affinity to the Mamluks.58 His al-Ḍawʾ al-lāmiʿ li-ahl al-qarn al-tāsiʿ59 is a ṭabaqāt biographical dictionary of the ninth hijrī century, which includes entries on religious as well as political figures of the period, including an entry on Sultan Jaqmaq. Finally, the last great chronicler of the late Mamluk period is Ibn Iyās, a grandson of Mamluk officers who wrote after Jaqmaq’s reign. He lived through the end of the Mamluk state and witnessed the beginning of Ottoman rule in Egypt. His chronicle Badāʾiʿ al-zuhūr fī waqāʾiʿ al-duhūr60 is an annalistic chronicle that uses a more relaxed colloquial idiom, where he even uses the first person in his narrative.61 Results of Researching the Chronicles on Jaqmaq’s Reign After researching the Mamluk chronicles’ accounts of Jaqmaq’s reign, the study retrieved both positive and negative results concerning Shāh Rukh’s copy of al-Māturīdī’s Taʾwīlāt. As will be shown, the chronicles did not contain any reference to this manuscript. On the other hand, exploring the chronicles revealed important aspects of relations between the courts of Shāh Rukh and Jaqmaq. The search proved fruitful as the chronicles refer on several occasions to cordial political relations between the two rulers. The Mamluk histories mention more than one embassy from Shāh Rukh arriving at Jaqmaq’s court.62 However, contrary to Maṭlaʿ-i saʿdayn and Habibu’s-Siyar, the chronicles do not speak of any embassies sent by Jaqmaq to Shāh Rukh’s court; instead, the chronicles only tell of embassies coming from Shāh Rukh to Jaqmaq’s court. Interestingly, we read of Shāh Rukh’s embassy head, Kalār, who could have been Niẓām al-Dīn 57 58 59 60 61 62

Ibn Taghrībirdī, al-Manhal al-ṣāfī. Irwin, Mamlūk history 162. Al-Sakhāwī, al-Ḍawʾ al-lāmiʿ. Ibn Iyās, Badāʾiʿ al-zuhūr. Little, Historiography 440–1. For Timurid-Mamluk relations during Jaqmaq’s and Shāh Rukh’s reigns, see Dekkiche, New Source, passim; idem, Correspondence, passim; idem, Diplomacy at Its Zenith, passim.

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Aḥmad ibn Dāʾūd Kalār, the vizier from the aristocratic Herat family of Shihāb.63 According to Beatrice F. Manz, Niẓām al-Dīn Kalār was appointed co-vizier by Baysunghur after 818 and, if it had not been for the rise of Ghiyāth al-Dīn Pir Aḥmad Khwāfī, he would have become the vizier for Shāh Rukh’s court and head of the dīwān.64 He was nevertheless associated with Ghiyāth al-Dīn in the dīwān for a long time.65 These results partly appear in al-Maqrīzī’s Kitāb al-sulūk. In the year 843, al-Maqrīzī writes, the embassies of Shāh Rukh, described here by al-Maqrīzī as “al-Qān” (the Khan) and “ruler of the east” (rasūl al-Qān Muʿīn al-Dīn Shāh Rukh malik al-sharq), arrived in Cairo.66 According to al-Maqrīzī, Shāh Rukh’s embassies had come to Jaqmaq’s court to confirm the death of his predecessor, Sultan al-Ashraf Barsbāy (r. 825–41/1422–38), and the enthronement of Jaqmaq. In the same year, al-Maqrīzī refers to Shāh Rukh and his tumultuous relations with Barsbāy. He writes that Shāh Rukh used to chastise Barsbāy for taking Jeddah on the Red Sea coast near Mecca, and for taxing its men of commerce one-tenth of their commercial revenue.67 Al-Maqrīzī mentions this since Jaqmaq wanted to follow Barsbāy’s policy and had asked for a fatwa from the religious scholars. If anything, this account indicates how Shāh Rukh’s Islamic revival and attempt at replacing the customary yasa law with the sharīʿa under the efforts of Ghiyāth alDīn Khwāfī extended to his foreign sphere—to the Mamluk sultanate. In the following year, al-Maqrīzī describes another embassy from Shāh Rukh’s court to Cairo. Significantly, celebrating the arrival of Shāh Rukh’s embassy indicated a high level of affinity between the two courts. Indeed, alMaqrīzī narrates that the arrival of the embassy was welcomed with festivities never previously witnessed in Cairo, whereby the streets of the city were beautifully decorated and people came out to celebrate the visit.68 Even the son of Jaqmaq, in the company of other amirs, hosted the messengers. Visiting the sultan at his palace, the messenger read to Jaqmaq the letter from Shāh Rukh, which congratulated the Mamluk sultan on ascending the throne. Gifts from Shāh Rukh were passed on to Jaqmaq, including silk, clothes, fur, perfumes, and other items amounting to five thousand dinars. Even the court of Muḥammad Jūkī (d. 848/1444–45), Shāh Rukh’s son, had sent gifts to Cairo. This was all done among widespread festive activities in the city, with significant participation by the

63 64 65 66 67 68

Manz, Power, Politics and Religion 106. Ibid. 87, 88. Ibid. 88. Al-Maqrīzī, Kitāb al-sulūk iv/3, 1175–6. Ibid. 1187. Ibid. 1208.

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Cairene population.69 The next day, Jaqmaq hosted them for a great meal at his court.70 A couple of paragraphs later, al-Maqrīzī mentions the name of the head of Shāh Rukh’s embassy. Here he writes that one “Kalāl” was helped by Jaqmaq’s court in his preparations to travel back to Herat.71 He was well taken care of in a manner that, according to al-Maqrīzī, had never before been provided to any messenger leaving the court.72 Kalāl was given many gifts from Jaqmaq to take to Shāh Rukh, including rolls of silk, horses, golden saddles, and many other rich gifts that amounted to seven thousand dinars.73 Incidentally, in the obituaries for the year 844, al-Maqrīzī cites the death of one Mubārak Shāh, a messenger from Shāh Rukh, who passed away in Gaza. His son Kalān (Kalāl?) ibn Mubārak Shāh brought Shāh Rukh’s gifts and message to Jaqmaq’s court after his father’s death. He also became sick and passed away as well. Both he and his father were buried in Jerusalem.74 Al-Maqrīzī’s accounts indicate the existence of cordial and friendly relations between the courts of Jaqmaq and Shāh Rukh. He cites three embassies from Shāh Rukh’s court, but there is no mention of an embassy from Jaqmaq to Shāh Rukh, nor is there any mention of a Taʾwīlāt copy that was prepared at and sent by Shāh Rukh’s court to Jaqmaq. These events are repeated in more detail in the chronicles of Ibn Taghrībirdī, who also describes only embassies arriving at Jaqmaq’s court from Herat. For example, Ibn Taghrībirdī refers to the first embassy described by alMaqrīzī that aimed to confirm the passing of al-Ashraf Barsbāy and Jaqmaq’s enthronement. On 12 Jumādá II 843, Ibn Taghrībirdī reports that Sultan Jaqmaq received Shāh Rukh’s embassy, and welcomed it warmly at his court.75 This was also cited in Ibn Iyās’ Badāʾiʿ al-zuhūr.76 Several paragraphs later, Ibn Taghrībirdī refers to Shāh Rukh’s pious conduct as the chronicler narrates the event where Shāh Rukh had previously chastised Barsbāy for taxing the people of Jeddah.77 Ibn Taghrībirdī also describes the second embassy that arrived from Shāh Rukh’s court in 844. Here he relates al-Maqrīzī’s account of the extensive, unprecedented celebrations filling the streets of Cairo upon the arrival of Shāh Rukh’s 69 70 71 72 73 74 75 76 77

Ibid. 1209. Ibid. 1210. Ibid. 1211. Ibid. Ibid. Ibid. 1231. Ibn Taghrībirdī, al-Nujūm al-zāhira xv, 336–7. Ibn Iyās, Badāʾiʿ al-zuhūr ii, 221. Ibn Taghrībirdī, al-Nujūm al-zāhira xv, 338.

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embassies.78 Jaqmaq received the embassy himself at his court, and he sent the messengers back to Shāh Rukh with many gifts that amounted to more than 15,000 dinars. Ibn Taghrībirdī also indicates, as did al-Maqrīzī, that one “Kalāl” was the head of Shāh Rukh’s embassy.79 This embassy was also cited in Ibn Iyās’ Badāʾiʿ al-zuhūr, but there was no mention of Kalāl.80 Significantly, Ibn Taghrībirdī mentions embassies that were not reported by al-Maqrīzī. According to Ibn Taghrībirdī, in the year 845, Shams al-Dīn Muḥammad al-Khāfī81 had arrived in Cairo, coming from Samarqand and heading to the hajj.82 He describes al-Khāfī as one of the high ranking religious scholars of Shāh Rukh and his son Ulūgh Beg (796–853/1394–1449). This description of alKhāfī is no surprise: he is Maulānā Muḥammad Khwāfī, who was a grand scholar and first mudarris in Ulūgh Beg’s madrasa in Samarqand.83 Ibn Taghrībirdī narrates another embassy from Shāh Rukh that was not reported by al-Maqrīzī, this one in 848.84 These travelers were also en route to Mecca, but coming from Herat. They brought a special gift from Shāh Rukh, the kiswa of the Kaʿba. The messenger conveys Shāh Rukh’s request that Jaqmaq would permit him to send the black covering for the Kaʿba as a gift to Mecca, to which Jaqmaq agreed. (It is important to note here that while the literary sources refer only to the kiswa, chancery letters in MS Ar. 4440 [BNF, Paris] indicate that this was actually the inner kiswa.85) Interestingly, this embassy, we are told, included a widow of Timur (“Taymūr Lank”),86 and, as a result, the Mamluks viciously attacked the entourage, stealing everything they could.87 It seems that the Mamluks were still angry at the campaigns of Timur at the turn of the century. This apparently incensed Jaqmaq, and he severely punished everyone involved in the attack, both commoners and Mamluk amirs.88 Ibn Taghrībirdī’s Ḥawādith al78 79 80 81

82 83

84 85 86 87 88

Ibid. 342. Ibid. 344. Ibn Iyās, Badāʾiʿ al-zuhūr ii, 225. Ibn Taghrībirdī refers to him as “al-Khāfī”: al-Nujūm al-zāhira xv, 342–4, 350. Yet in his other chronicle, Ḥawādith al-duhūr, he reports on the same embassy, but al-Khāfī’s name is replaced with “al-Khāqānī”: Ḥawādith al-duhūr i, 59. Ibn Taghrībirdī, al-Nujūm al-zāhira xv, 350. On Muḥammad Khwāfī, see Barthold, Four Studies ii, 119–21. He belongs to the famous Khwāfī family, whose members acted as high ranking officials and were active in the dīwān during Shāh Rukh’s reign; see Manz, Power, Politics and Religion 97–100. I am grateful to one of the anonymous reviewers for pointing out the identity of Muḥammad Khwāfī. Ibn Taghrībirdī, al-Nujūm al-zāhira xv, 364–5. Dekkiche, New Source 253–4 (“ilbās dākhil al-kaʿba”). Ibn Taghrībirdī, al-Nujūm al-zāhira xv, 364. Ibid. 365. Ibid. 365–6.

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duhūr also confirms this report,89 indicating that 300 Mamluks as well as a large group of commoners (“al-ʿawāmm”) initiated the attack on the envoy.90 Incidentally, Ibn Taghrībirdī’s biographical ṭabaqāt dictionary, al-Manhal al-ṣāfī, discusses the life of Shāh Rukh in the obituaries section at the end of the entry on Jaqmaq. The entry on Jaqmaq itself does not reveal any information on Shāh Rukh’s (or Jaqmaq’s) embassies.91 The obituaries section provides a brief description of the death of Shāh Rukh but mentions none of Shāh Rukh’s embassies to Jaqmaq.92 The friendly relations between Shāh Rukh and Jaqmaq have been explained as the product of prophetic dreams by Persian chroniclers in the court of Shāh Rukh. This was a strong legitimation instrument for building up the authority of a Timurid ruler.93 For example, Timur had claimed that he had direct contact with spirits and that he possessed extraordinary powers.94 This claim continued with his successors, including Shāh Rukh. The chronicler ʿAbd al-Razzāq alSamarqandī,95 who served in Shāh Rukh’s court, explained that the reason for the improvement of relations between Shāh Rukh and the Mamluk sultanate can be found in the realm of dreams and the powers of Shāh Rukh. According to alSamarqandī, before Jaqmaq’s accession to the Mamluk throne, Shāh Rukh appeared to him in a dream, took him by the waist, and enthroned him over the Mamluk sultanate.96 Once Jaqmaq became the ruler of the Mamluk sultanate, alSamarqandī explains, he sent an envoy to Shāh Rukh’s court.97 This report further confirms the account of Jaqmaq’s embassy at Shāh Rukh’s court in Habibu’sSiyar. As has been shown, however, the current study of the Mamluk chronicles on the reign of Sultan Jaqmaq did not corroborate this anecdote. Still, the Mamluk chronicles do affirm the cordial relations between the two courts as they report on many embassies sent by Shāh Rukh to Cairo. On the other hand, the reported pious character of Jaqmaq, and his interest in the religious sciences, may explain (and confirm) his request for a set of religious works from Shāh Rukh, including a copy of al-Māturīdī’s Taʾwīlāt. The ṭabaqāt works that date from Jaqmaq’s reign report on the sultan’s pious character. For example, al-Sakhāwī’s al-Ḍawʾ al-lāmiʿ describes the religious conduct of 89 90 91 92 93 94 95 96 97

Ibn Taghrībirdī, Ḥawādith al-duhūr i, 109–10. Ibid. 110. Ibn Taghrībirdī, al-Manhal al-ṣāfī iv, 275–99. Ibid. 300. Manz, Power, Politics and Religion 190–1. Ibid. 191. Cited in ibid. Ibid. Ibid.

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Jaqmaq and his rule.98 Considering that al-Sakhāwī was a hadith scholar, it is not surprising that the entry on Jaqmaq was deeply concerned with his contribution to pious endowments, religious learning, and his moral conduct. Al-Sakhāwī describes him as a religious and pious ruler, just in his dispensation of judgments, and kind to orphans; Jaqmaq even wanted to give himself the name Muḥammad.99 His learning, especially in the religious sphere, is the result of his frequent courting of religious scholars. He was humble both as a person and in the conduct of his court. Importantly, al-Sakhāwī indicates that Jaqmaq exceeded all other rulers in knowledge, and was fond of books.100 This may hint at Jaqmaq’s interest in religious works, and thus his dedication to religious learning may have led him, as Maṭlaʿ-i saʿdayn and Habibu’s-Siyar report, to request a copy of al-Māturīdī’s Taʾwīlāt from Shāh Rukh’s court. It is important to note here that recent research has re-examined MamlukTimurid relations in light of new analysis done on MS Ar. 4440 (BNF, Paris), which constitutes a collection of Mamluk chancery letters.101 While these important letters shed further light on Jaqmaq’s relations with Shāh Rukh’s court, they do not describe the list of books requested by Jaqmaq or the fate of such works. The letters only mention books going in the other direction, referring to Jaqmaq’s gifts to Shāh Rukh’s court. This was reported in letter V (fols. 44a–45b) written, as Malika Dekkiche explains, in Ramaḍān 842/February 1439 where “we also know that [Jaqmaq] delegated of the high-ranking amirs, Jijukbughā who was the great dawādār of Syria, for the mission and that Jaqmaq sent gifts (details not mentioned, but instead ‘wa hiya kayt wa kayt’).”102 Conclusion This study attempted to locate the manuscript of al-Māturīdī’s Taʾwīlāt ahl al-sunna that, according to al-Samarqandī’s Maṭlaʿ-i saʿdayn and Khwāndamīr’s Habibu’s-Siyar, was given by Shāh Rukh, at the request of Sultan Jaqmaq, to the Mamluk sultan’s embassy at Herat in 843. The study researched the bio-bibliographical guides on Islamic works and manuscripts, including Ḥājjī Khalīfa’s Kashf al-ẓunūn, Sezgin’s Geschichte des Arabischen Schrifttums, Brockelmann’s Geschichte der Arabischen Litteratur, and Kaḥḥāla’s Muʿjam al-muʾallifīn. It then researched the manuscripts used in different published editions of al-Māturīdī’s Taʾwīlāt. The study also turned to the rich Mamluk chronicles on the reign of Jaqmaq to identify the existence of the 843 manuscript. After pursuing these aven98 99 100 101 102

Al-Sakhāwī, al-Ḍawʾ al-lāmiʿ iii, 71–4. Ibid. 71–2. Ibid. 74. Dekkiche, New Source; idem, Correspondence; idem, Diplomacy at Its Zenith. Dekkiche, Diplomacy at Its Zenith 129–30. I am very grateful to Professor Dekkiche for providing me a copy of her then-forthcoming publication.

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ues of research, the study was unable to determine the exact present location of this manuscript. However, two copies have been identified that date to the ninth hijrī century, a copy in Köprülü Mehmet Paşa library in Istanbul and one in Dār al-Kutub al-Miṣriyya in Cairo. Furthermore, several undated manuscripts have been also identified, including copies (detailed earlier) in Berlin, Istanbul, Kayseri, Konya, and Tashkent. These copies provide a new avenue of research in this project: the next step would be to examine these manuscripts in hope of finding the 843 copy produced in Shāh Rukh’s court. Moreover, exploring the Mamluk chronicles on the reign of Jaqmaq led to both negative and positive research results. On the one hand, the chronicles do not report on embassies sent by Jaqmaq to the court of Shāh Rukh. Nor do the chronicles refer to the 843 copy of al-Māturīdī’s Taʾwīlāt that, according to Maṭlaʿ-i saʿdayn and Habibu’s-Siyar, was sent to Jaqmaq from Shāh Rukh’s court. On the other hand, the chronicles report that, between 843 and 848, several embassies were sent by Shāh Rukh to the court of Jaqmaq. One of the embassies included a member of the important Khwāfī family. Another embassy was headed by one Kalār, described as a high-ranking religious scholar from Samarqand. Most intriguing is the report on the presence of a widow of Timur in one of these embassies. Overall, these embassies indicate very cordial relations between the two courts, a conclusion that is corroborated by the reports of the chroniclers alSamarqandī and Khwāndamīr. The Mamluk chronicles also depict Sultan Jaqmaq as a pious character with a passion for religious learning and books. This may perhaps corroborate the report from Maṭlaʿ-i saʿdayn and Habibu’s-Siyar on Jaqmaq’s request for religious books from Shāh Rukh’s court, including a copy of al-Māturīdī’s Taʾwīlāt. As for locating the latter, however, the task remains wide open.

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and P.B. Golden (eds.), The Cambridge History of Inner Asia: The Chinggisid Age, Cambridge 2009, 182–98. Mukminova, R.G., The Timurid States in the Fifteenth and Sixteenth Centuries, in M.S. Asimov and C.E. Bosworth (eds.), History of Civilizations of Central Asia, vol. 4, Paris 1998, 347–63. Roemer, H.R., The Successors of Tīmūr, in P. Jackson and L. Lockhart (eds.), The Cambridge History of Iran, vol. 6, Cambridge 1986, 98–146. Roux, J.-P., Histoire des grand Moghols: Babur, Paris 1986. Roxburgh, D.J., The Persian Album, 1400–1600: From Dispersal to Collection, New Haven 2005. Rudolph, U., Al-Māturīdī and the Development of Sunnī Theology in Samarqand, trans. R. Adem, Leiden 2015. Saleh, W.A., Rereading al-Ṭabarī through al-Māturīdī: New Light on the Third Century Hijrī, in Journal of Quranic Studies 18, no. 2 (2016), 180–209. Sezgin, F., Geschichte des arabischen Schrifttums, 12 vols., Leiden 1967–. Sobernheim, M., Čaḳmaḳ, in The Encyclopaedia of Islam, Second Edition. Online, 2012. Subtelny, M.E., Sociocultural Bases of Cultural Patronage under the Later Timurids, in International Journal of Middle East Studies 20, no. 4 (Nov. 1988), 479-505. ———, Tamerlane and His Descendants: From Paladins to Patrons, in D.O. Morgan and A. Reid (eds.), New Cambridge History of Islam, vol. 3, Cambridge 2010, 169–200. ———, A Timurid Educational and Charitable Foundation: The Ikhlāṣiyya Complex of ʿAlī Shīr Navāʾī in 15th-Century Herat and Its Endowment, in Journal of the American Oriental Society 111, no. 1 (1991), 38–61. ———, Timurids in Transition: Turko-Persian Politics and Acculturation in Medieval Iran, Leiden 2007. ———, and A.B. Khalidov, The Curriculum of Islamic Higher Learning in Timurid Iran in the Light of the Sunni Revival under Shāh-Rukh, in Journal of the American Oriental Society 115, no. 2 (1995), 210–36. Swartz, M.L., Hanafite Madhab, in Encyclopædia Iranica. Online, 2012. Szuppe, M., Historiography v. Timurid period, in Encyclopædia Iranica. Online, 2012. Tezcan, B., Hanafism and the Turks in al-Ṭarasūsī’s Gift for the Turks (1352), in Mamlūk Studies Review 15 (2011), 67–86.

THE PEN CASE (DAWĀT) AN OBJECT BETWEEN EVERYDAY PRACTICES AND MAMLUK COURTLY GIFT CULTURE Rebecca SAUER

Introduction The dawāt—i.e., pen case or inkwell—is one of the objects of identification for the profession of the scribe (kātib, pl. kuttāb).1 In literary sources, we find extensive glorification of writing materials as essential things in this world. A famous saying describes one of the contents of the dawāt, the qalam (reed pen), as equivalent to the soldier’s sword on the battlefield. The dawāt is, therefore, indirectly part of the debate between the “pen and the sword.” However, it was not only an emblem of the literate class that celebrated the significance of writing: it was also a precious item that formed part of courtly gift culture—not only among scribes specifically, but also between members of the ruling elite in general. The aim of this article is thus to explore the dawāt as a precious good that was exchanged as a valuable status signifier in courtly environments. Descriptions in the sources will be compared to material culture, focusing on inscriptions on extant artifacts and the dawāt as an emblem. As I was primarily trained in working with texts, I will not pretend to be proficient enough to provide a thoroughgoing material or art historical analysis. However, as I am drawn by a keen intellectual curiosity, I hope to enhance knowledge of the past by looking at a variety of 1

There are two important contributions on the topic of pen boxes that have appeared since the initial submission of this present article or are about to be published in the near future. One of them is Ludvik Kalus’s Écritoires: objets fonctionnels et symboliques, focusing on providing a general overview of the artifacts and inscriptions that have been published so far. Frédéric Bauden’s ‘The Calligrapher is an Ape,’ to which the author has generously granted me access (draft version of March 9, 2021), represents an erudite study of contexts and poetic repertoires to be found on pen boxes. Bauden was able to prove that (a) the verses inscribed on the objects were at times even specifically composed to be used on pen boxes, and (b) the inscriptions were actually read by their beholders and/or users and negotiated in narrative sources and poetry anthologies. One case is exceptionally interesting and concerns one of the artifacts discussed in this present article: As Bauden has demonstrated, the inscription on the Louvre pen box shows/features a version of a poem that was originally composed by Fatḥ al-Dīn Muḥammad ibn ʿAbd al-Ẓāhir (d. 691/1291) in order to be inscribed on a pen box that was meant to be given to his father as a present. While the original artifact does not seem to be extant, its inscription, an epigram, became so popular that it was reused as an inscription on as many as six later items.

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sources.2 Hereby, I aim to demonstrate that “re-constructing” the historical “reality” from one single type of source material alone can be problematic. For one thing, textual sources might have their own mechanisms and foci.3 Second, extant artifacts may not be representative of the historical situation in which they were produced or consumed. Rather, I plan to show that texts and objects both entail at times different approaches towards representing a given historical setting. The structure of this article is as follows: first, I will briefly elaborate on the meaning of the term dawāt as understood in technical terms. The point of departure of the second section is exegetical literature on the beginning of Sūrat al-Qalam (Q 68), which also deals with the dawāt. In a third section, I will give the reader an impression of the writing tool as part of gifting practices. Sections four and five focus on two aspects of material culture: extant objects and their inscriptions, and the representation of the dawāt in Mamluk heraldry. The conclusion will deal with a set of questions: what does the representation of the dawāt imply with regard to the role and function of writerly culture? Who were the “users” of the artifacts? Which lessons can be learned from looking at texts and material culture? Defining the Dawāt The most common translation of the term dawāt is “inkwell.” However, a closer look at the descriptions found in the sources shows that the term applied to objects with a variety of shapes and functions, such as containers for ink itself, pen cases with inserted inkpots, or pen cases without any inkpot at all.4 As this article deals in particular with the Mamluk environment, it goes without saying that the attitude of one of the era’s famous encyclopaedists should 2

3

4

This study would benefit from an additional analysis of the representation of the dawāt in visual sources, but this is beyond the scope of the present article. However, it might be relevant to highlight that the pen case features prominently on two of the inner medallions of the famous Baptistère de Saint Louis, Louvre (Paris, inv. LP 16) and has been discussed by Rice in Blazons and by Behrens-Abouseif in Baptistère de Saint Louis. Interestingly, at the time of its production (Behrens-Abouseif dates it to the second half of the thirteenth century), the pen case was obviously not regarded as a self-explanatory item: it bears an inscription that identifies it as a dawāt (in one of the cases the letter alif is lacking; see for example Rice, Blazons, fig. 2). White, Discourse of History; idem, Structure of Historical Narrative 115–6; idem, Metahistory xxv–xxvi, 1–41, 430–5; Hirschler, Medieval Arabic Historiography 1–6. As this article focuses on works of adab, the specific correlation of the “fictional” to “non-fictional” character of texts should be taken into consideration, as has been done by Kennedy, Preface; Bray, ʿAbbāsid Myth; Beaumont, Min Jumlat al-Jamādāt; and Leder, Conventions. The position of material culture vis-à-vis narrative sources has been discussed by Talmon-Heller et al., Introduction; Walker, On Archives and Archaeology; and Luz, Icons of Power. Baer, Dawāt. See also idem, Metalwork 67–72, and idem, Islamic Inkwell 199.

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concern us here: that is, al-Qalqashandī’s (756–821/1355–1418) definition of the term.5 He initially describes the dawāt as the “mother of all writing materials” (umm ālāt al-kitāba).6 In technical terms, his usage of the word suggests that he means a combination of ink container and pen box. When discussing the precise characteristics of the dawāt, al-Qalqashandī mentions that it has taken different forms in diverse historical periods, to accommodate various sorts of pens, or for use in specific branches of kitāba: there were oblong forms as well as round ones; some were a combination of ink container and resting place for a pen (i.e., a miqlama-cum-miḥbara). Chancery secretaries (kuttāb al-inshāʾ, i.e., his own colleagues), al-Qalqashandī informs us, preferred the oblong format (mustaṭīl) that had rounded ends (mudawwara fī al-raʾsayn). The text says that it was more suitable to a kātib (al-inshāʾ) who worked at a desk, although there were small tables that were convenient for rounded, separate inkwells as well.7 Financial secretaries (kuttāb al-amwāl) instead preferred oblong pen boxes with angular corners so they could store little pieces of paper for their calculations inside the box.8 AlQalqashandī further reports different opinions as to the usefulness of an inkwell separate from the pen box (specified as miḥbara mufrada): some said it was convenient due to its light weight and noted that the noble Quran, hadith, and ʿilm were written with it. Others argued that it was not to be used because it was “merely” a tool for copying (ālat al-naskh).9 Al-Qalqashandī criticizes some of the practices of his contemporaries. Thus, the majority of kuttāb al-inshāʾ and kuttāb al-amwāl worked with inkwells made from steel (fūlādh) or yellow copper (nuḥās) that tended to be excessively decorated (bālaghū fī taḥsīnihā), and he advises his readers that “the truth about decoration is that it is of utmost lightness,” and even rather “simple” (sādhaj).10 5

6

7

8 9 10

For bio-bibliographical details on al-Qalqashandī see Bosworth, al-Ḳalḳashandī, and Berkel, al-Qalqashandī. Al-Qalqashandī, Ṣubḥ al-aʿshá ii, 431. I will not go into further details as to the glorification of the dawāt, as it tends to operate along very similar lines as the glory-to-the-pen discourse (ibid. ii, 434–9). See for example Rosenthal, Abū Ḥayyān; Gelder, Conceit, or Gully, Sword, which are very useful contributions to the field. However, it has to be admitted here that other authors such as al-Nuwayrī do not name the dawāt as the essential tool; rather they see the qalam as more dominant. Although the dawāt is the first writing tool named by this author, it is by no means glorified to extent the qalam is, nor is it termed the “mother of all writing materials.” See al-Nuwayrī, Nihāyat al-arab vii, 19–20. Al-Qalqashandī, Ṣubḥ al-aʿshá ii, 433. Baer (Metalwork 71), primarily observing the material findings, also highlights that “since Mamluk times most pen-cases seem to have been rectangular in shape.” See also the section on extant objects below. Al-Qalqashandī, Ṣubḥ al-aʿshá ii, 433. Ibid. Ibid. 431–2. Al-Qalqashandī, though, has to admit that due to its hardness and preciousness steel was less often used than copper. Steel was thus seen as the material reserved to the higher administrators, that is viziers and the like.

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Referring to Ḥasan ibn Wahb, he adds that embellishing with pictures or paintings (ṣūra, naqsh) should be avoided, though inlay work could be appropriate. The material for the inlay should not be gold or silver.11 The Shafiʿis even prohibited this practice, he states. At that time, however (fī zamāninā, “in our times”), there were some kuttāb who owned inkwells with golden or silver inlay.12 Wooden inkwells seem not to have been very widespread in al-Qalqashandī’s time: except for sandalwood (ṣandal) and ebony (ābnūs), wood was no longer relevant. Thus, although he introduces inkwells by describing them as “made of the best of woods,” he later points out that in contemporary practice other materials were more important. According to an earlier source, the ʿUmdat al-kuttāb, dedicated to Muʿizz ibn Bādīs (407–54/1016–62), wood as a material for the dawāt seems to have been more common.13 In the Ṣubḥ al-aʿshá, however, the wooden dawāt is described as being in use primarily at the jurists’ courts and for signatures (quḍāt al-ḥukm wa-muwaqqiʿūhum wa-baʿḍ shuhūd al-dawāwīn).14 In general terms, al-Qalqashandī advises the kātib to take care of his equipment, especially the dawāt, and to be sure it is clean and in proper condition.15 He recommends removable round ink containers because they were easier to clean before being inserted into the pen box.16 After these rather technical details, some remarks on the symbolic implications of writing materials are suitable—an obvious point of departure for this is the Quran and its exegesis. Nūn wa-l-Qalam: The Interpretation of Q 68:1 and the Dawāt Though the term dawāt does not occur in the Quran, it does appear in tafsīr literature, in particular those parts that deal with the beginning of Sūrat alQalam (Q 68)—which functions as a locus classicus for every professional related to writing to inscribe his branch into the holy book, as it begins with the words “Nūn. By the pen and what they inscribe.”17 It is said to be the second sūrah revealed to the Prophet Muḥammad after the initial Sūrat al-ʿAlaq.18 In his interpretation of Q 68:1, al-Qurṭubī (d. 671/1272) mentions the dawāt as one possible 11 12 13

14 15 16 17 18

Ibid. 432. Ibid. Muʿizz Ibn Bādīs, ʿUmdat al-kuttāb 33. He even recommends a specific format: a bit shorter than the length of a cubit, with a width appropriate to host at least five qalams. Al-Qalqashandī, Ṣubḥ al-aʿshá ii, 432. Ibid. 433. Ibid. 458. Quran quotations are given according to Arberry’s translation; all other translations are mine. Schoeler, Charakter 63. See also Madigan, Preserved Tablet 262; al-Qurṭubī, al-Jāmiʿ xviii, 222–5.

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interpretation of the “nūn”: “The ‘nūn’ is the dawāt.”19 He adds a tradition ascribed to Abū Hurayra, who heard the Prophet say the following: The first thing God created was the reed pen, and then he created the “nūn,” which is the dawāt, this is [meant by] the words of the Exalted “nūn wa-alqalam.” After this, he [God] said to it [the reed pen]: “Write!” and it asked: “What shall I write?” He answered: “Write what exists and what is existent till the Day of Judgement of the deeds, the lifetimes, the fortunes, or the remnants [of human beings].” The pen thus proceeded to record what exists till the Day of Judgment.…20

The two instruments allude to the preserved tablet (lawḥ maḥfūẓ) and are thus furnished with theological implications as to the predetermination of human deeds.21 Furthermore, God bestows a certain “agency” upon the pen. Though it is the divine authority who orders the writing implement to do so, there is no other celestial mediator (such as Jibrīl) to “act out” the writing process. However, as to the subject of this article, the dawāt itself remains a rather passive instrument—at least when compared to the pen, which is even depicted as a talking object that directly communicates with God.22 Ibn Kathīr is more explicit as to the predetermining function of the pen, as he transmits a version of the aforementioned hadith in which God clearly orders the pen to “write down the qadr (destiny).”23 Though he does not mention the dawāt as early as al-Qurṭubī in his tafsīr, he lists a number of traditions (not all of them classified as reliable) that describe qalam and dawāt as being created together.24 Therefore, in sum, it is very likely that the dawāt as it featured in Quranic commentaries is more to be understood as a passive complement to the active pen. Accordingly, it is not simply an ink-container but rather a metaphor for the substance enabling the pen to write, i.e., ink.25 But pen and ink are not only associ19

20

21 22

23 24 25

Al-Qurṭubī, al-Jāmiʿ xviii, 223, with numerous authorities invoked. Other interpretive versions indicate the whale (al-ḥūt), the lawḥ min nūr explicitly, or refer to the “mysterious letters” (ḥarf min ḥurūf al-raḥmān). Ibid. See also al-Tirmidhī, Sunan v, 514. In the book on predetermination, the connection to “al-qadr” is even more obvious (ibid. iv, 231). Compare Madigan, Preserved Tablet. Compare the communication between the Prophet and God, which is to a lesser extent a direct one, although Muḥammad is said to be the only human who had a distinct visual impression of the divine. See Madigan, Revelation and Inspiration 445, and Böwering, God and his Attributes 322–6. As for the “talking ability” of things and its implications (especially with regard to the pen), I have elsewhere elaborated on that intriguing aspect (Sauer, Towards a Pragmatic Aesthetics, chapter 3). See also Gelder, Persons as Texts. Ibn Kathīr, Tafsīr vii, 76. Ibid. 78. Some of the traditions on the writing of qadr by the pen even highlight that after finishing its task it falls dry, or “seals” the writing (khatama), which supports the character of the dawāt as

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ated with the lawḥ maḥfūẓ and its theological implications; they are furthermore portrayed as implements for acquiring and proliferating knowledge, a function that the commentators usually explain by referring to the beginning of Sūrat alʿAlaq (Q 96: 3–5). In Ibn Kathīr’s words (which are more explicit than alQurṭubī’s): It is clear (ẓāḥir) that the sort of pen one writes with is [the same as] that which features in God’s words “Recite: And thy Lord is the Most Generous, who taught by the Pen, taught Man that he knew not” and it is his exalted oath to spread knowledge of his creation, by means of which he bestows the ability to write on them [the human beings], so they shall be granted access to scholarship.26

Episodes that portray the act of writing as an essential part of religious life are common in works of adab al-kātib.27 However, as the above paragraph has shown, the mufassirūn were seldom reluctant to transmit material that testified to the significance of writing, although (as will be shown below) they are not as prone to glorifying writing as the kuttāb.28 Giving the Dawāt The subject of the dawāt as a gift is not elaborated upon in concise or monographic terms. Other goods were far more common, as several studies have shown. To name but a few objects:29 illuminated Quran manuscripts, arms and

26 27 28

29

ink. See for example al-Qurṭubī, al-Jāmiʿ xviii, 223. For details of this discussion see chapter 3 of my unpublished habilitation thesis as well as my forthcoming book. Ibn Kathīr, Tafsīr vii, 79. See also al-Qurṭubī, al-Jāmiʿ xviii, 225–6. For example, al-Qalqashandī, Ṣubḥ al-aʿshá I, 35–45, ii, 434–9. It is well-known that during the Mamluk period, kuttāb and ulama were not distinct social groups, and that entanglements between professional scholars and scribes were rather common. We know about several career paths of individuals who started their education in the area of ʿilm and continued as administrators later on. One famous example is al-Qalqashandī himself, who worked as a Shafiʿi judge before entering the chancery. Although these entanglements of professions may have entailed a popularization of certain genres, I suggest that the general perspectives of individual genres were still at work. Thus, a mufassir would not have glorified the pen to the extent a kātib would have done. There is extensive scholarly literature on these more common objects of exchange. The following list is by no means exhaustive, containing only some of the most recent dealings with the topic. See for example Behrens-Abouseif, Practising Diplomacy 52–4 (horses), 140–5 (animals in general), 150–1 (manuscripts), 151–60 (textiles), 163–8 (arms); Komaroff, Art of Giving; Shalem, Objects as Carriers. An essential part of gifting practices was the public enactment of change of ownership, an aspect that has been stressed by Komaroff, Art of Giving 19; Shalem, Performance of the Object; Sauer, Textile Performance; and (albeit referring more to the visualization of patronage in general) Flinterman and Steenbergen, Al-Nasir Muhammad 88.

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armors, ṭirāz textiles, jewelry, or horses and other animals. However, we find occasional references in gift lists, poetry, and inshāʾ manuals. In the Book of Gifts and Rarities (Kitāb al-hadāyā wa-l-tuḥaf), originating in Fatimid times and still in use among the literate up to the sixteenth century, the dawāt is mentioned only once.30 The report is embedded in a chapter that describes the inventory of the Fatimid treasuries that were looted as a result of an insurrection during the years 460–61/1068–69. The description of the objects is as follows: There were also many boxes full of a variety of pen boxes, square and round, small and large, made of gold, silver, sandalwood, aloeswood, … ebony, ivory, …, jujube, and other kinds of wood, all adorned with precious stones, gold, silver, and other types of unusual ornament in fine, wondrous craftsmanship. Each pen box came with all its implements. Some of them were worth more or less a thousand dinars, to say nothing of the precious stones surmounting them.31

A similar account is given by al-Ibshīhī (790–after 850/1388–after 1446). After the assassination of Badr al-Jamālī’s son al-Afḍal ibn Amīr al-Juyūsh in 515/1121, he left several hundred thousand dinars to his posterity, supplemented by clothes of silk brocade, precious stones, rubies, a golden dawāt, and other precious items.32 The common trait of these passages is that they give an impression of the exuberant luxury of the period. The objects described might have been part of a larger assemblage of presents, though they are not explicitly named with regard to gift culture proper. On the other hand, in the inshāʾ manual referred to previously, the connection between gifting practices and the dawāt is made quite strong: in the introductory part on the tool al-Qalqashandī quotes a poem featuring a pen box as a present.33 Thus, he incorporated the quotation in his discourse on the dawāt immediately after providing a general outline of its shape and properties, which suggests that giving an inkpot/pen box was, at least, not completely out of fashion in his own days, although the text describes a situation that must have occurred before al-Qalqashandī’s lifetime: Abū al-Ṭayyib ʿAbd al-Raḥmān ibn Aḥmad ibn Zayd ibn al-Faraj al-Kātib bestowed a decorated dawāt on a friend, the following words accompanying it: I haven’t seen a blackness before like the one she [the dawāt] possessed Eyes of the creation and hearts are combined Neither length nor shortness can belittle her [excellence]

30 31 32 33

For the history and significance of the source see al-Qaddūmī (ed.), Book of Gifts 5–52. Ibid. 233–4. Al-Ibshīhī, al-Mustaṭraf ii, 101–2. Al-Qalqashandī, Ṣubḥ al-aʿshá ii, 432–4.

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Yet she achieves perfect harmony in both respects! Above you there is the gloom she causes And gleam brightly enlightened by her Take her as pearls, and it will be her who arranges them in perfect order [Order] that will be appreciated by everybody who hears [these verses]!34

The addressee of this poem is a fellow of the writing class, a “ṣadīq”; the material described here is, according to al-Qalqashandī, ābnūs (ebony).35 The pen box is described as an object invoking several aspects of being. Besides representing the physical world in a perfect harmony, containing allusions to the female body, the dawāt also stands for the spiritual sphere. Darkness and light are both essential components of the object. Light, as represented by the image of the pearl, is also fundamental to the “agency” bestowed upon the object: by ordering the world along a string of pearls, the dawāt generates meaning—and those who listen to its utterances will be pleased. An ebony inkwell is also the subject of a passage that was translated by Joseph Sadan, according to two anonymous manuscripts. A different version of the narrative is included in Abū Bakr al-Ṣūlī’s (d. 335/947) Adab al-Kuttāb: It was told by Isḥāq ibn Muḥammad that he heard Muḥammad ibn al-Ḥasan alKhāqānī tell the following story: Someone gave Muḥammad ibn Ziyād alThaqafī an ebony inkwell decorated [= inlaid] with gold, as a gift, with some sharpened pens [made of reed] inside. The gift came along with a letter, containing the following poem: We send you the mother of fates and gifts; she is of a black origin. She is decorated in yellow, for it is known that yellow clothes fit blacks. In her belly stand, without any struggle, some lances; they are sharper than the weapon that one unsheathes in battle.36

34

Ibid. 433. ‫لم أر ســوداء قبله ــا م ـل ـكـت * نواظر الخلــق والقلوب معــا‬ ‫ال الطول أزرى بها و ال قصر * لكن أتت للوصول مجتما‬ !‫فوق ــك جن ــح مــن الظـ ــالم به ــا * و بارق باءتالقه ــا لمع ــا‬ ‫ بها تنظمه * يروق قى الحسن كل من سمعا‬،‫خذها لدر‬

35 36

Ibid. Sadan, Some Written Sources 96. However, Sadan’s elaborations on the difference between the terms miḥbara and dawāt (99, n. 34) seem to reflect an older state of the art. As alQalqashandī’s description suggests, in Mamluk times the miḥbara was rather to be understood as the specific ink container, whereas the dawāt was an object of broader function, including several compartments for pens, ink, rubbers, knives, or other scribal accessories. Compare also Sadan, Nouveaux Documents.

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As we have seen, these objects tend to be described in order to demonstrate proficiency in elegant writing, something that had been part of literate court culture for centuries. The question of gift exchange did belong to this complex, though it was usually not explicitly named when writing about the artifacts. Information on the subject of this article can furthermore be gleaned from literature dealing with so-called kutub al-tahādī, mulaṭṭafāt, or mulāṭafāt. These writings were pieces of paper that traditionally accompanied a present. According to al-Qalqashandī, a mulāṭafa should describe and even embellish the object being given, though without overemphasizing its splendor or importance, for this would not be in accordance with the basic principles of manliness (shurūṭ al-murūʾa) and generosity.37 As to the categorization of these writings, he presents three: first, incoming gift letters from persons inside the Mamluk Sultanate; second, those sent with gifts leaving the Cairo court; and third, letters requesting gifts (istihdāʾ). While animals and edible plants were the focus of letters accompanying gifts and confirmations of receipt,38 writing materials were particularly important in this category. The principles of linguistic modesty outlined above are not necessarily at work in al-Qalqashandī’s elaborations on the latter category of kutub al-istihdāʾ, letters that are official requests for presents.39 Contrary to the objects mentioned in the previous two sub-categories of kutub al-tahādī, requests for writing materials mostly occur in correspondence between members of the secretarial class, although they might well be part of gifting practices among kings:40 Though what is usual in gift requests belongs to the practices of the kuttāb: requesting things that are of little luxury out of [sheer] kindness, without being of enormous importance. By God, notwithstanding the requesting of gifts among kings and the like—in which cases the splendid and magnificent is required!41

The objects that are discussed in the next paragraph are the dawāt, ink (midād), and the qalam. As for the dawāt, al-Qalqashandī relies on the famous poet Abū al-Faraj al-Babbaghāʾ (“The Parrot,” 313–97/925–1007), who lived at the court of Sayf al-Dawla (330–56/916–67): The noblest treasures and the utmost wealth belongs to those superior in descent, who are fundamental for the profession and the [i.e., its] prestige (khaẓwa). It is by the pen cases that the fruits of the profession are gathered, as the achievement 37 38 39 40 41

Al-Qalqashandī, Ṣubḥ al-aʿshá ix, 100. Ibid. 103–20. Ibid. 121–2. Ibid. 121. Ibid. Objects that were not of enormous monetary value and yet were considered extraordinary are part of Franz Rosenthal’s essay A Note on the Mandīl; see also Enderwitz, Liebe als Beruf 60.

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of writing is milked [by the pen cases]. In the course of time the mamlūk [i.e., the sender of the letter] has begun to grieve the absence of that which has been purchased among the most precious of its kind (nafāʾisihā). And indeed he [the mamlūk] was tormented by the discovery of the whereabouts of the pleasant [i.e., the dawāt]! So if our master (mawlanā) considers removing some of that material which is in his possession—or currently out of service—and allowing it to be given to the persons in his service (ahl taṣrīfihi, i.e., the sender) and responding successfully and positively to his [the enquiring person’s] wishes, he will do so, if God the Exalted will.42

The relationship between sender and addressee is portrayed here as being one of subordination, though this is to a certain extent due to the professional context and the “epistolary protocol” at the heart of this piece of prose.43 In more intimate environments, the specific linguistic register of the letter would possibly read differently. That there was a stylistic boundary between professional and “private” written communication can—among other aspects—be learned from the structure of works of adab al-kātib, which usually deal with those two modes in separate parts.44 Unlike the poem discussed above, the characteristics of the dawāt in this context are not described. Apart from the general statement that the dawāt provides for the success of the writers’ class, no further details are given. Thus, with minor modifications, the text could function as a “model document” to be applied to various similar situations. However, the text does reveal various insights. In the kuttāb class, professional fortune (i.e., success) is inseparably linked to the tools at hand: diligence and intelligence are not, therefore, the primary reasons for success as a scribe. It is, rather, descent and equipment that lie at the heart of a career in writing. At this point, it is interesting to consider alQalqashandī’s general assessment of these two opposite extremes. In the introduction to his Ṣubḥ, he explicitly favors the meritocratic principle when discussing the qualities of the chancery scribe and says that merely “inheriting” an office did not imply the kātib was properly educated.45 By including a text that is contrary to his own professional convictions he once more reminds us of the dhamm al-kuttāb, a

42

Al-Qalqashandī, Ṣubḥ al-aʿshá ix, 121: ،‫لصنـاعـة‬ ‫تجتنـى ـثمـرة ا ـ ـ‬ ‫سببـا؛ وبـالـدوى ـ ـ ـ‬ ‫لخظـوة ـ ـ‬ ‫للصنـاعـة وا ـ ـ‬ ‫ و ـ ـ ـ‬،‫نسبـا‬ ‫للفضـل ـ ـ‬ ‫أ ـنفـس الـذخـائـر وأشـرف االٓمـال مـا كـان ـ ـ ـ‬ ‫علـى‬ ‫ وضـا ـيقـه فـى وجـود الـرضـى ـ‬،‫ئسهـا‬ ‫قتنيـه مـن ـنفـا ـ ـ‬ ‫كنـت أ ـ ـ ـ‬ ‫لمملـوك الـدهـر ـممـا ـ‬ ‫ و قـد أوحـش ا ـ ـ ـ‬،‫لكتـابـة‬ ‫يحتلـب در ا ـ ـ‬ ‫وـ ــ‬ ‫يسمـح‬ ‫ و ـ ـ‬،‫لمملـوك‬ ‫عطلـة ا ـ ـ ـ‬ ‫سمـة ـ ـ‬ ‫طلهـا ـ‬ ‫ليهـا أو عـا ـ ـ‬ ‫يستخـدمـه مـن حـا ـ ـ‬ ‫ببعـض مـا ـ ـ ـ‬ ‫يميـط ـ ـ‬ ‫ فـ ٕان رأى مـوالنـا أن ـ ـ‬،‫منهـا‬ ‫لحقيقـة ـ ـ‬ ‫اـ ـ ــ‬ .‫ فعل؛ ا ٕن شاء اللّٰه تعالى‬،‫ب ٕاهدائها ا ٕلى أهل تصريفه ويقابل بالنجح والتقبل رغبته‬ 43 44

45

For the “epistolary protocol” see Gully, Culture of Letter Writing 166–92. The inclusion of poetry into “administrative” texts therefore seems to be an elegant tool to bridge the gap between the two spheres of being human, without however doing this in explicit terms. Al-Qalqashandī, Ṣubḥ al-aʿshá i, 42.

THE PEN CASE (DAWĀT)

135

polemical discourse that arose around the profession problematizing the purported incompetence of some of its representatives. Other authors, such as al-Nuwayrī, reveal in an implicit way that the practice of giving writing tools to colleagues was far more common than was explicitly discussed. In his Nihāyat al-arab, he mentions several times that this or that person gave a qalam, a dawāt, or dawāt and qarāṭīs (sheets of parchment, papyrus, or paper) as gifts to one of his colleagues.46 To sum up, narrative sources testify that the dawāt was part of gift-giving practices. The subject is not dominant, which is intriguing when compared to the prevalence of discussions on the superiority of the pen over the sword. This is in accordance with the characterization in exegetical literature of the dawāt as a rather passive tool. Besides being subject to more mundane contexts (such as gift requests among kuttāb), it is also praised as a precious object outside of writerly culture proper. Though the findings so far are not so sparse as to be called a complete “silence” on the part of the textual sources,47 one does not get the impression of an abundance of narrative evidence. A look at the dawāt in material culture will shed a different light on the subject as a whole. The Dawāt: Extant Objects (Materials, Inscriptions, Etc.) When conducting a non-representative database research on metal pen boxes and inkpots on the Thesaurus d’Épigraphie Islamique website, the term “écritoire” returned 38 matches, whereas “encrier” returned 49. The geographic location (that is, the possible context of production and/or consumption, not the place they are on display now) of the objects indicated a noticeable result as well: among the 49 inkpots, only four were said to have originated in Mamluk SyroEgypt. However, among the 38 pen boxes, 20 were indicated to have come from that area and era.48 This is in accordance with the findings Eva Baer presented.49 Furthermore, many of these items are inscribed, at times even being extraordinary examples of highly professionalized inlay work. However, concluding that material culture and texts are absolutely equivalent in outcome would be too easy. Admittedly, al-Qalqashandī stated two points that seem to be corroborated by the 46 47

48

49

Al-Nuwayrī, Nihāyat al-arab iv, 24; vii, 22, 23. One possible further approach which might yield interesting insights would be to focus on sources dealing with economic history, such as those of the prolific al-Maqrīzī, who gives us a detail on the productive side of the metalworking industry (that goldsmiths and silversmiths who were concerned with producing military equipment also were skillful in adorning dawāt). See al-Maqrīzī, al-Mawāʿiẓ wa-l-iʿtibār iii, 324–6. Thesaurus d’Épigraphie Islamique (TEI) http://www.epigraphie-islamique.uliege.be/Thesaurus/ (accessed December 31, 2016). Of course, one has to be very careful in judging the actual informative value of these results. See footnote 7 above.

136

R. SAUER

artifacts: first, that the rectangular dawāt as pen box (miqlama-cum-miḥbara) was the fashion of the day, and second, that his contemporaries had a predilection for embellished metal pen cases—a point he criticized. On the other hand, if we try to find material evidence for the idea of the dawāt as a present in courtly environments, we sometimes depend on rather tentative conclusions. In any case, individual objects do give us valuable information as to the nature of their specific purposes in matters of social exchange, though they are not in all aspects as explicit as we might wish them to be.50 I would like to discuss two examples, relying on artifacts that have been subject to studies published by historians of Islamic art.

Fig. 6.1. Pen Box, Mamluk Egypt, 1304–5. Copper-alloy, ca. 32 x 6 x 7cm. Musée du Louvre, Paris, inv. 3621. © bpk / RMN - Grand Palais / Jean-Gilles Berizzi.

Two pen-cases from the Mamluk era were thoroughly studied by Ludvik Kalus and Christiane Naffah in the 1980s.51 One of them, part of the Louvre collection, is datable to the year 1304/5, judging by the inscription, which mentions a date of production (see Fig. 6.1).52 Though the inscription does not indicate the name of a specific person to whom the case might have belonged or to whom it 50

51

52

The “speaking inkwell” of the Iranian world discussed by Hana Taragan unfortunately does not seem to be transferable to the Mamluk context. See Taragan, ‘Speaking’ Inkwell. The following description of the object is according to Kalus and Naffah, Deux écritoires. Interestingly, this very object is also a subject of Oleg Grabar’s Reflections on Mamluk Art, which appeared almost simultaneously with the first article. See also Bauden, ‘The Calligrapher is an Ape.’ Inv. 3621, measuring ca. 32 x 6 x 7cm. Répertoire chronologique xiii, 257–8, no. 5181. Record 3904 according to the Thesaurus d’Épigraphie Islamique (TEI).

THE PEN CASE (DAWĀT)

137

was dedicated, the forms of address as well as its material and artistic features suggest that it belonged to a person among the most powerful at court, probably produced on the occasion of his inauguration. The copper alloy piece is of rectangular shape and divided into compartments for ink and other writing materials. It was not cast as a whole; rather it consists of several layers of sheet metal that were hammered and soldered.53 This technique was common in the Islamic world from at least the twelfth century onwards, when a silver shortage in the Iranian lands caused the growth of a “bronze and brass industry” based on the processing of sheet metal.54 Likewise, in decorating the pen case the artisans applied common techniques such as inlay or engraving. The inlay material consisted of bituminous paste, silver, and gold. For the most part, however, the gold and silver fillings are no longer extant.55 The contents of the decoration on the outer parts of the artifact are horse riding scenes that do not occur on the inner parts, where floral elements prevail. 56 The hunting theme (frequently in combination with equestrian imagery) was also widespread in Mamluk art during the period prior to 1320 and is reminiscent of Eastern models.57 The inscriptions are in cursive (three) as well as geometric (two, yet more ornamental) scripts.58 All of the three cursive inscriptions allude to the object and its function in more or less subtle ways, such as the one situated on the upper side of the lid:59 ‫دوات موالنا عدت اوصافها‬ ‫مكمـ ـل ــة ش ـهـدت نســختــها‬ ‫قـ ـ ــد اق ـ ــالم ـ ــها الم ـ ـع ـ ـ ــدلـ ـ ــة‬ ‫ام الكتاب قد عدت الٓي ـ ــها‬ This is the pen-case of our master. 53

54

55

56 57 58

59

Kalus and Naffah, Deux écritoires 91. Unlike most other techniques, casting combines the actual forming of an artifact with the possibility to include decoration and writing in the production process right from the start. See Meier, et al., Gießen. Allan, Persian Metal Technology 63. This is not to imply that the quality of the workmanship or the monetary value of the objects were in a state of decline, as Allan clearly describes the sheet metal industry as a “luxury industry.” Kalus and Naffah, Deux écritoires 92. For these common techniques see also Baer, Metalwork 2–3. Kalus and Naffah, Deux écritoires 92–7. Ibid. 94–5; Ward, Brass, Gold, and Silver 59. The third cursive inscription, positioned at the inner base of the item, also glorifies writing, describing the qalam as the tool that provides for the prospering of the world; see Kalus and Naffah, Deux écritoires 100–1. As for the two geometric inscriptions, Kalus and Naffah assess them as “purely decorative,” not having any “precise meaning” (ibid. 99–100). By the end of the thirteenth century, verses and allusions on writing and pen boxes became increasingly popular subjects of inscriptions on metal artifacts; see Baer, Metalwork 214.

R. SAUER

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Its qualities are considered sublime (ʿuddat awṣāfuhā mukmilatan). Copying with it testifies to the range of its just aqlām. The umm al-kitāb belongs to its signs!60

Similar aspects are highlighted in another inscription, which is visible only upon opening the pen case (since it contains a request to open the case, it would have made more sense for it to be visible from the outside of the object): ‫افت ـ ـ ــح دواة سع ـ ــادة‬ ‫اقالمها تحيى و تسعد‬ ٔ‫من عطا و قرا‬ ‫عملت لعبد اللّٰه‬ ‫راجى رحمة ربه و مستجير به‬ (...) ‫ليوم االٓخر‬ Open the pen case of good fortune! Its aqlām give life and offer bliss to the one who gives and reads. It has been made for the servant of God who longs for God’s mercy and seeks his protection on the Day of Judgment.61

Though there is no mention that the object was a gift, this inscription alludes to the high status ascribed to two social practices of relevance to this discussion: giving and reading, which implies the object might have been understood in the context of literate courtly gift culture. A pen case in the collection of the Bibliothèque Nationale de France, also a subject of the same work by Kalus and Naffah, is similar to its Louvre counterpart (see Fig. 6.2).62 Like the Louvre artifact, it is made of several sheets of copper alloy and decorated with engraving and inlay,63 but its features are different: there is only non-figural decoration, which is a common trait of artifacts produced during or after the third reign of al-Nāṣir Muḥammad ibn Qalāwūn (709–41/1310– 41). With the consolidation of al-Nāṣir’s reign, the visual representation of the powerful of the state underwent considerable change: “Figural scenes were rejected in favour of bold inscriptions, including striking new radial inscriptions and epigraphic blazons; arabesques and geometric designs were replaced by 60 61 62

63

English translation based on the edition by Kalus and Naffah, Deux écritoires 98. English translation based on the edition by Kalus and Naffah, Deux écritoires 103. Bibliothèque Nationale de France, Cabinet des Médailles, Paris, inv. des monuments du Moyen-Age et de la Renaissance 539, ca. 31 x 8 x 9cm. Répertoire chronologique xvi, 24–5, no. 6030. Record 1456 according to the Thesaurus d’Épigraphie Islamique (TEI). Kalus and Naffah, Deux écritoires 105.

THE PEN CASE (DAWĀT)

139

chinoiserie, floral scrolls and small roundels containing six-petalled whirling rosettes.”64 Moreover, after the Nāṣirī rawk (cadastral survey) of 715/1315, objects bearing rather anonymous inscriptions increased in number. As the survey had increased the sultanic share of agricultural revenues, amirs became more dependent on the sultan. Precious metal objects commissioned by the central authority, bearing rather formulaic expressions, were possibly part of courtly provisioning of military (and civilian) officials on the occasion of their inaugurations.65 Both developments, the non-figural and the formulaic, are reflected in the character of the BNF pen case.

Fig. 6.2. Pen Box, Mamluk Egypt, 1345–46. Copper-alloy, ca. 31 x 8 x 9cm. Bibliothèque Nationale de France, Cabinet des Médailles, Paris, inv. des monuments du Moyen-Age et de la Renaissance 539. © Bibliothèque Nationale de France, Paris.

This second pen box bears a range of inscriptions that are quite different from those seen on the previous example. Unlike the Louvre piece, the inscriptions of this second example are of rather commonplace character, being invocations of the sultan, called “inscriptions souveraines” by the authors of the study.66 More precisely, these inscriptions are variations on the pattern “ʿizz li-mawlānā alsulṭān,” though they are not entirely anonymous. “Sayf al-Dunyā wa-al-Dīn” Shaʿbān ibn Nāṣir is mentioned, meaning Sultan al-Malik al-Kāmil Sayf al-Dīn Shaʿbān (the first) al-Nāṣir, who reigned from 745/1345 through 747/1346. 64 65

66

Ward, Brass, Gold, and Silver 59. Ibid. 68. On the wider socio-economic background see also Lapidus, Muslim Cities 44–78, and Sato, State and Rural Society 124–61. Kalus and Naffah, Deux écritoires 108.

140

R. SAUER

Though the inscriptions are not as “conversational” as those of the first pen case, they do not indicate a “mass-compatible” structure either—which suggests a commissioned work at least. Oleg Grabar draws our attention to another possible interpretation, two seemingly contradictory characteristics regarding inscriptions on certain objects. He states that “several modes coexisted in Mamluk times using a vocabulary of forms from different sources,” one of them “strong, outer-directed, impersonal; the other…intimate, inner-directed, personal.”67 Grabar thus interprets the Louvre pen case’s inscriptions as clearly indicating private use and testifying to the “honor of years or decades of writing services.”68 Indeed, with regard to the overall picture of pen case inscriptions a twofold categorization is obvious. Whereas there are a whole range of inscriptions that testify to the “glory of our master” or contain other formulaic homage to the powerful of the state, there are also those inscriptions that seem to address the “initiates” of the scribal class.69 Who exactly was to be counted among these persons, however, remains rather obscure. To name the staff of the chancery would be obvious, though it is possible that persons not directly involved in the production of writing were also addressed. The addressees of these more “intimate” inscriptions might therefore not only have been secretaries, administrators, and scribes proper, but also members of the military class who wanted to appear to be “well-educated and mannered” men.70 A further specification of these groups of persons will be provided in the following by discussing the representation of the pen case in Mamluk heraldry. The Dawāt as Represented in Mamluk Heraldry The dawāt featured among the heraldic symbols (rank, pl. runūk) of the Mamluk khāṣṣakiyya circles. Mamluk sultans and higher amirs used these symbols in coats of arms, in the case of the latter representing their respective functions at court, such as the horseshoe for the master of the stables (amīr ākhūr), a drinking vessel for the cupbearer (sāqī), or a rhombic piece of cloth for the master of the royal wardrobe (jamdār).71 These emblems appeared on commissioned 67

68 69

70

71

Grabar, Reflections on Mamluk Art 4. Grabar adds (p. 6) that metal artifacts in general are famous for the extraordinary diversity of inscription types. Ibid. 4. Such as the record 7504 found on the TEI database. In this case, there even seems to be a combination of rulers’ inscriptions and allusions to writing. For examples of such persons see Berkey, Silver-Threads; Tanindi, Two Bibliophile Mamluk Emirs; Haarmann, Arabic in Speech. For a general overview see Rabat, Rank; Meinecke, Zur mamlukischen Heraldik; Whelan, Representations; and the classic work by Mayer, Saracenic Heraldry. Balog (Coinage) and Allan (Mamlūk Sultanic Heraldry) in particular point to the relation between numismatics and heraldry.

THE PEN CASE (DAWĀT)

141

works and on endowed objects or buildings. The rank was therefore a virtually ubiquitous and highly visible mark, which might have caused a certain image of power relations as many people were simultaneously exposed to it. The symbol of the pen box represented the office of the inkwell holder (dawādār), which is significant insofar as it corroborates the image of the dawāt so far gleaned from the two types of sources previously discussed. Though the office is the holder of the inkwell (miḥbara), the object indicated in heraldry is not an individual inkpot. Rather, it is the whole assemblage of writing materials (see Fig. 6.3), corresponding strongly to the narrative sources.

Fig. 6.3. Mamluk emblem representing the dawāt. After Meinecke, Bedeutung 238.

The pen box in Mamluk heraldry enables us to learn more about the possible “users” of the object. As David Ayalon pointed out, the “basic function of the dawādār was the bearing and keeping of the royal inkwell,” a function originally created during the Saljuq period and meant as an office for civilians.72 Under alẒāhir Baybars (r. 658–75/1260–77), it was transformed to a military post, though during the Bahri period it would not be among the posts of higher status within the Mamluk hierarchy. In the Circassian era, however, the office of the dawādār again became important, albeit due to an enlarged job description in military terms and not due to its “writerly” aspects.73 As Michael Meinecke added, the function of the dawāt in later (i.e., Burji) Mamluk heraldry is significant. The general trend, starting during al-Ẓāhir Barqūq’s reign (from 784/1382 on), was a gradual visual diversification of emblematic contents: the so-called “compositional emblems,” representing Mamluk khāṣṣakiyya personnel in collective terms rather than pertaining to individuals, became more common in that period. According to Meinecke, there were, nevertheless, intriguing exceptions to the rule, significantly concerning the dawāt. He thus argues for a twofold interpretation of the emblematic function of the dawāt. First, up to the reign of al-Ashraf Qāytbāy (872–901/1468–96), the dawāt featured prominently in compositional emblems that still belonged—apart from the general collective trend outlined above—to individual members of the Mamluk military, mostly those that were not originally personnel of the sultanic corps (i.e., “lesser” 72 73

Ayalon, Studies on the Structure 62. Ibid.

142

R. SAUER

Mamluks). Second, and this is far more interesting in terms of the general significance of the written word, the dawāt appeared prominently as a collective emblem representing the secretarial, or writerly, class (arbāb al-aqlām)—thereby transcending the original purpose of the ranks as exclusive accessories of the military class (arbāb al-suyūf).74 This in turn corresponds to the findings of Bernadette Martel-Thoumian and Julien Loiseau, who both describe an increasing permeability of the boundaries between the civilian and military spheres in later Mamluk times.75 The dawāt rank thus could refer to four different groups of persons or individuals: (a) to the dawādār, a military post and part of the khāṣṣakiyya, becoming more important toward the end of Mamluk rule through the increasing “militarization” of the position (b) to khāṣṣakiyya personnel collectively, indicated in compositional emblems (c) to “lesser” Mamluks, also in combination with other icons (compositional emblems), and, finally (d) to civilians who were (semi-)professional “men of the pen” (arbāb al-aqlām) Thus, the representation of the dawāt in Mamluk heraldry provides some interesting insights. At the same time, however, the situation appears more complicated, since the possible circle of recipients, “representatives,” and “users” of the object has been considerably increased. The lessons of this tricky state of the art are to be discussed and, I hope, clarified below. Conclusion: A Note on Representation and Visibility Four different types of sources have been discussed in the course of this article: tafsīr, adab, inscriptions on objects, and emblems. In this conclusion, I will assess the findings of this rather tentative analysis in reverse order, beginning with

74

75

Meinecke, Bedeutung 237–9. The collective character of emblems for the period after 1382 is not however corroborated by textual sources, as Meinecke himself admits. Historiographical informants (works of adab al-kātib included) mostly remain silent about the character of the later “compositional emblems.” Thus, most of them seem to reflect an earlier state of the art, focusing on the individualizing character of emblems. Within these lines, al-Qalqashandī, writing at a time when collective, compositional emblems became ever more common, states that “every amir, be he great or not, had an emblem he chose” (al-Qalqashandī, Ṣubḥ al-aʿshá iv, 61–2). Loiseau, Les Mamelouks 150–1; Martel-Thoumian, Les Civils 67–9.

THE PEN CASE (DAWĀT)

143

the emblems and then continuing with inscriptions, adab al-kātib, and, last but not least, tafsīr. Emblems were ubiquitous elements. They appeared on everyday objects such as doorknobs and building façades, as well as on precious objects that formed part of courtly gift culture. Simultaneously, the number of people associated with the emblems grew in the course of time. It is therefore not always an easy task to identify the persons that were the “owners” of these emblems. Apart from being a status signifier on its own terms, the object had a symbolic life that represented writerly culture—well beyond those circles of individuals who actually earned their living writing. And perhaps it even became a mere decorative depiction of an object that could be deemed valuable.76 It is possible that some of the bearers of dawāt emblems were also recipients or “users” of actual pen boxes, though hard facts for such transactions are lacking (at least for the time being— the future may prove otherwise). After all, the highly symbolic character of gift exchange in the Middle Period as described by Linda Komaroff and others would suggest that the dawāt as a precious metal object was to be found among bearers of the emblem. The artifacts themselves tend to be rather vague as to their exact purposes in terms of gift exchange, though this might be due to the specific context of inquiry. In the Iranian sphere, there are objects that have been interpreted as being more explicit.77 However, the inscriptions do glorify writing and present rather official language as well as more “intimate” (in Grabar’s words) statements. As to their possible monetary value, it would simply not have made sense to commission their production without embedding them in some sort of “ritualized” public show in order to visualize power relations. Yet, the fact that the majority of surviving examples are made of precious metals (a point al-Qalqashandī and others criticized) possibly does not reflect the historical situation, as other materials might simply not have persisted. The adab sources occasionally highlight the importance of the dawāt in gift culture, though two trends are particularly noteworthy. Whereas precious pen boxes were presents in courtly environments and among the most powerful—as testified by the gift lists—there was also a culture of giving that was comparable to what Franz Rosenthal has discussed with regard to the mandīl. If we are to believe the sources, the dawāt and writing materials in general were exchanged among colleagues of the scribal class, a point that is mentioned not only explicitly but also in a rather succinct manner, almost in passing. The dawāt is thus an object of multiple registers—the extant artifacts, however, only inform us about parts of

76 77

A point also stressed by Allan, Mamlūk Sultanic Heraldry. See Taragan, ‘Speaking’ Inkwell 38; Giuzalian, Bronze Qalamdan.

144

R. SAUER

the story. It is therefore helpful to consider a variety of sources in order to get a deeper understanding of some aspects of the past. The category of sources relied on in the third section approached the religious significance of the object under discussion. According to the commentators, the Quranic notion of the nūn assigns a rather passive function to the item. While the qalam is the talking object that even directly communicates to God and transcribes the deeds of human beings on earth, the dawāt remains rather pale—which may have encouraged the development of a glory-to-the-pen discourse. Interestingly, when looking at material culture, the image is somewhat inverted: whereas pen boxes from the past have survived in considerable number, hardly any original aqlām have been preserved.78 In sum, each of the types of sources analyzed in this article shows a different image of the same artifact. A discussion of an accessory of the scribal class might not change the way history is written and transmitted, but in future research on broader topics we must keep in mind that even an object confined to exchange practices in courtly environments can be seen in a virtually kaleidoscopic manner.

78

Which is not surprising, since pens were made of perishable materials.

THE PEN CASE (DAWĀT)

145

Bibliography Published sources Ibn Kathīr, Tafsīr al-Qurʾān al-ʿaẓīm, 7 vols., Beirut 1966. Al-Ibshīhī, al-Mustaṭraf fī kull fann mustaẓraf, ed. J.H. al-Dujaylī, 2 vols., Beirut 1995. Al-Maqrīzī, Kitāb al-mawāʿiẓ wa-l-iʿtibār bi-dhikr al-khiṭaṭ wa-l-āthār, ed. A.F. Sayyid, 4 vols., London 2002–4. Muʿizz Ibn Bādīs, ʿUmdat al-kuttāb wa-ʿuddat dhawī al-albāb, ed. I.K. al-Tòabbāʿ, Damascus 2006. Al-Nuwayrī, Nihāyat al-arab fī funūn al-adab, 30 vols., Cairo 1923–97. Qaddūmī, Gh.Ḥ. (ed. and trans.), Book of Gifts and Rarities: Kitāb al-Hadāyā wal-Tuḥaf. Cambridge, MA 1996. Al-Qalqashandī, Ṣubḥ al-aʿshá fī ṣināʿat al-inshāʾ, 14 vols., Cairo 1913–9. Al-Qurṭubī, al-Jāmiʿ li-aḥkām al-Qurʾān, 20 vols., Cairo 1935–50. Al-Tirmidhī, Sunan al-Tirmidhī, ed. Sh. Arnāʾūṭ and H. ʿAbd al-Ghafūr, 5 vols., Damascus 2009. References Allan, J.W., Mamlūk Sultanic Heraldry and the Numismatic Evidence: A Reinterpretation, in The Journal of the Royal Asiatic Society of Great Britain and Ireland 2 (1970), 99–112. ———, Persian Metal Technology, 700–1300 AD, Oxford 1979. Arberry, A. J., The Koran Interpreted: A Translation, New York 1966. Ayalon, D., Studies on the Structure of the Mamluk Army—III, in Bulletin of the School of Oriental and African Studies 12, no. 1 (1954), 57–90. Baer, E., Dawāt, in Encyclopaedia of Islam, 2nd ed., xii, 203–4. ———, An Islamic Inkwell in the Metropolitan Museum of Art, in R. Ettinghausen (ed.), Islamic Art in the Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York 1972. ———, Metalwork in Medieval Islamic Art, Albany 1983. Balog, P., The Coinage of the Mamluk Sultans of Egypt and Syria, New York 1964. Bauden, F., ‘The Calligrapher Is an Ape!’ Arabic Epigrams on Pen Boxes (sixth/

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twelfth–ninth/fifteenth c.), in B. O’Kane, A.C.S. Peacock, and M. Muehlhaeusler (eds.), Inscriptions of the Medieval Islamic World, Edinburgh 2023, 456–534. ———, and M. Dekkiche (eds.), Mamluk Cairo, a Crossroads for Embassies: Studies on Diplomacy and Diplomatics, Leiden 2019. Beaumont, D.E., Min Jumlat al-Jamādāt: The Inanimate in Fictional and Adab Narrative, in Ph.F. Kennedy (ed.), On Fiction and Adab in Medieval Arabic Literature, Wiesbaden 2005. Behrens-Abouseif, D., The Baptistère de Saint Louis: A Reinterpretation, in Islamic Art 3 (1989), 3–13. ———, Practising Diplomacy in the Mamluk Sultanate: Gifts and Material Culture in the Medieval Islamic World, London 2014. Berkel, M. van, al-Qalqashandī, in J.E. Lowry and D.J. Stewart (eds.), Essays in Arabic Literary Biography 1350–1850, Wiesbaden 2009, 331–40. Berkey, J., ‘Silver-Threads among the Coal’: A Well-Educated Mamluk of the Ninth/Fifteenth Century, in Studia Islamica 73 (1991), 109–25. Bosworth, C.E., al-Kòalkòashandī, in Encyclopaedia of Islam, 2nd ed., iv, 509–11. Böwering, G., God and His Attributes, in Encyclopaedia of the Qurʾān, ii, 316–31. Bray, J., ʿAbbasid Myth and the Human Act: Ibn ʿAbd Rabbih and Others, in Ph.F. Kennedy (ed.), On Fiction and Adab in Medieval Arabic Literature, Wiesbaden 2005. Enderwitz, S., Liebe als Beruf: Al-ʿAbbās Ibn-al-Aḥnaf und das Ġazal, Stuttgart 1995. Flinterman, W., and J. Van Steenbergen, Al-Nasir Muhammad and the Formation of the Qalawunid State, in Pearls on a String: Artists, Patrons, and Poets at the Great Islamic Courts, Seattle 2015, 101–27. Gelder, G.J. van, The Conceit of Pen and Sword: An Arabic Literary Debate, in Journal of Semitic Studies 32, no. 2 (1987), 329–60. ———, Persons as Texts/Texts as Persons in Classical Arabic Literature, Stuttgart 1999. Giuzalian, L.T., The Bronze Qalamdan (Pen-Case) 542/1148 from the Hermitage Collection, in Ars Orientalis 7 (1968), 95–119. Grabar, O., Reflections on Mamluk Art, in Muqarnas 2 (1984), 1–12. Gully, A., The Culture of Letter-Writing in Pre-Modern Islamic Society, Edinburgh 2008.

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———, The Sword and the Pen in the Pre-Modern Arabic Heritage: A Literary Representation of an Important Historical Relationship, in S. Günther (ed.), Ideas, Images and Methods of Portrayal: Insights into Classical Arabic Literature and Islam, Leiden 2005, 403–30. Haarmann, U., Arabic in Speech, Turkish in Lineage: Mamluks and Their Sons in the Intellectual Life of Fourteenth-Century Egypt and Syria, in Journal of Semitic Studies 33, no. 1 (1988), 81–114. Hirschler, K., Medieval Arabic Historiography: Authors as Actors, New York 2006. Kalus, L., Écritoires: Objets fonctionnels et symboliques indissociables des cérémonies officielles à l'époque mamelouke, in F. Bauden and M. Dekkiche (eds.), Mamluk Cairo, a Crossroads for Embassies: Studies on Diplomacy and Diplomatics, Leiden 2019, 801–22. ———, and Ch. Naffah, Deux écritoires mameloukes des collections nationales françaises, in Revue des études islamiques 51 (1983), 89–145. Komaroff, L., The Art of Giving at the Islamic Courts, in idem (ed.), Gifts of the Sultan: The Arts of Giving at the Islamic Courts, New Haven 2011. Kennedy, Ph.F., Preface, in idem (ed.), On Fiction and Adab in Medieval Arabic Literature, Wiesbaden 2005, xi-xxii. Leder, S., Conventions of Fictional Narration in Learned Literature, in idem (ed.), Story-telling in the Framework of Non-Fictional Arabic Literature, Wiesbaden 1998, 34–60. Lapidus, I., Muslim Cities in the Later Middle Ages, Cambridge 1984. Loiseau, J., Les Mamelouks: XIIIe–XVIe siècle, Paris 2014. Luz, N., Icons of Power and Religious Piety: The Politics of Mamlūk Patronage, in D.J. Talmon-Heller and K. Cytryn-Silverman (eds.), Material Evidence and Narrative Sources: Interdisciplinary Studies of the History of the Muslim Middle East, Leiden 2014, 237–66. Madigan, D., Preserved Tablet, in Encyclopaedia of the Qurʾān, iv, 261–3. ———, Revelation and Inspiration, in Encyclopaedia of the Qurʾān, iv, 437–48. Martel-Thoumian, B., Les civils et l’administration dans l’état militaire mamlūk (IXe/XVe siècle). Damascus 1991. Mayer, L.A., Saracenic Heraldry, Oxford 1933. Meier, T., I. Berti, and M.R. Ott, Gießen, in T. Meier, M.R. Ott, and R. Sauer (eds.), Materiale Textkulturen: Konzepte, Materialien, Praktiken, Berlin 2015, 533–50.

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Meinecke, M., Die Bedeutung der mamlukischen Heraldik für die Kunstgeschichte, in Zeitschrift der Deutschen Morgenländischen Gesellschaft Suppl. 2 (1974), 213–40 ———, Zur mamlukischen Heraldik, in Mitteilungen des Deutschen Archäologischen Instituts, Abteilung Kairo 28, no. 2 (1972 [1973]), 213–87. Rabat, N., Rank, in Encyclopaedia of Islam, 2nd ed., viii, 431–3. Répertoire Chronologique d’Épigraphie Arabe, vol. 13, Cairo 1944. Répertoire Chronologique d’Épigraphie Arabe, vol. 16, Cairo 1964. Rice, D.S., The Blazons of the ‘Baptistère de Saint Louis’, in Bulletin of the School of Oriental and African Studies 13, no. 2 (1950), 367–80. Rosenthal, F., Abū Ḥayyān at-Tawḥīdī on Penmanship, in idem, Four Essays on Art and Literature in Islam, Leiden 1971, 20–49. ———, A Note on the Mandīl, in idem, Four Essays on Art and Literature in Islam, Leiden 1971, 63–108. Sadan, J., Nouveaux documents sur les scribes et les copistes, in Revue des études islamiques 45 (1977), 41–87. ———, Some Written Sources Concerning Goldsmithing and Jewellery, in N. Brosh (ed.), Jewellery and Goldsmithing in the Islamic World: International Symposium, The Israel Museum, Jerusalem, 1987, Jerusalem 1991, 93–9. Sato, T., State and Rural Society in Medieval Islam: Sultans, Muqtaʿs and Fallahun, Leiden 1997. Sauer, R., The Textile Performance of the Written Word: Islamic Robes of Honour (Khilaʿ), in S. Enderwitz and R. Sauer (ed.), Communication and Materiality: Written and Unwritten Communication in Pre-Modern Societies, Berlin 2015, 113–28. ———, Towards a Pragmatic Aesthetics of the Written Word: Al-Qalqashandī between Balāgha and Materiality, Unpublished habilitation thesis, Heidelberg University 2018. Schoeler, G., Charakter und Authentie der muslimischen Überlieferung über das Leben Mohammeds, Berlin 1996. Shalem, A., Objects as Carriers of Real or Contrived Memories in a Cross-Cultural Context, in Mitteilungen zur Spätantiken Archäologie und Byzantinischen Kunstgeschichte 4 (2005), 101–19. ———, Performance of the Object, in L. Komaroff, Gifts of the Sultan: The Arts of Giving at the Islamic Courts, New Haven 2011. Talmon-Heller, D.J., K. Cytryn-Silverman, and Y. Tabbaa, Introduction: Material

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Evidence and Narrative Sources: Interdisciplinary Studies of the History of the Muslim Middle East, in D.J. Talmon-Heller and K. Cytryn-Silverman, Material Evidence and Narrative Sources: Interdisciplinary Studies of the History of the Muslim Middle East, Leiden 2014, 1–13. Tanindi, Z., Two Bibliophile Mamluk Emirs: Qansuh the Master of the Stables and Yashbak the Secretary, in D. Behrens-Abouseif (ed.), The Arts of the Mamluks in Egypt and Syria: Evolution and Impact, Göttingen 2012, 267–81. Taragan, H., The ‘Speaking’ Inkwell from Khurasan: Object as ‘World’ in Iranian Medieval Metalwork, in Muqarnas 22, no. 1 (2005), 29–44. Thesaurus d’Épigraphie Islamique, L. Kalus (dir.), Fondation Max van Berchem, Geneva. http://www.epigraphie-islamique.uliege.be/thesaurus/ Walker, B., On Archives and Archaeology: Reassessing Mamlūk Rule from Documentary Sources and Jordanian Fieldwork, in D.J. Talmon-Heller and K. Cytryn-Silverman (eds.), Material Evidence and Narrative Sources: Interdisciplinary Studies of the History of the Muslim Middle East, Leiden 2014, 113– 43. Ward, R., Brass, Gold, and Silver from Mamluk Egypt: Metal Vessels Made for Sultan al-Nāṣir Muḥammad, in Journal of the Royal Asiatic Society, Ser. 3, 14, no. 1 (2004), 59–73. Whelan, E., Representations of the Khāṣṣākīyah and the Origins of Mamluk Emblems, in P.P. Soucek (ed.), Content and Context of Visual Arts in the Islamic World: Papers from a Colloquium in Memory of Richard Ettinghausen, Institute of Fine Arts, New York University, 2–4 April 1980, University Park 1988, 219–53. White, H., The Discourse of History, in idem, The Fiction of Narrative: Essays on History, Literature, and Theory, Baltimore 2010, 187–202. ———, Metahistory: The Historical Imagination in Nineteenth Century Europe, Baltimore 1973 (repr. 2014). ———, The Structure of Historical Narrative, in idem, The Fiction of Narrative: Essays on History, Literature, and Theory, Baltimore 2010, 112–25.

MAMLUK ACQUISITION OF HORSES AND SLAVES A COMPARATIVE APPROACH Housni ALKHATEEB SHEHADA

The power of the Mamluk Sultanate and that of its ruler, the sultan, depended essentially on two basic elements: soldiers, who had been acquired as slaves and later became Mamluks, and horses. Mamluk fighters—the final product of the education of these slaves—were indeed horsemen, and therefore highly dependent on the continuous supply of mounts. The great importance of both slaves and horses in Mamluk culture is reflected in several religious myths related to them. The first, used in various occasions in the Circassian period, is the story of Joseph, who, though sold into slavery by his family, later became a prominent figure in Egypt.1 Several others concern Arabian horses. Thus, according to some Mamluk veterinary treatises and adab writings, the noble Arabian horses descended from those given by King Solomon to envoys of Arabian tribes who came to Jerusalem to congratulate the king for his alleged betrothal to the queen of Sheba.2 Abū Bakr al-Nāṣirī (d. 741/1340), a veterinarian in the Mamluk court, writes in his veterinarian treatise that Adam had a predilection for horses, which he rode, and was praised by God for this choice. Al-Nāṣirī also writes that Ishmael was the first man to dress Arabian horses.3 In this paper, I would like to consider the acquisition of slaves and horses and their integration into the Mamluk system from a comparative perspective. For lack of documentation related to the early phases of these activities, I have chosen to focus on what is generally known as the Circassian or Burji period (1382– 1517), which lasted from the late fourteenth to the early sixteenth century. Since the acquisition of slaves took place outside the Mamluk Sultanate, most of the relevant sources are of European origin, particularly fiscal and administrative documents originating from the Genoese milieu, as well as reports of other Western observers. Some references in this regard can also be gleaned from Arabic chronicles of that period, but the data they provide should be examined with great caution. Very few contracts of slave acquisition have been discovered. 1

2

3

Al-Biqāʿī, Iẓhār al-ʿaṣr i, 305; Ibn Ṣaṣrá, al-Durra al-muḍīʾa ii, 94. See also Ayalon, L’Esclavage; Yosef, Ethnic Groups 317–22, and idem, Mamluks and their Relatives 63–9. Al-Rasūlī, al-Aqwāl al-kāfiya 105; al-Kalbī, Kitāb nasab al-khayl 29–30; al-Qazwīnī, ʿAjāʾib al-makhlūqāt 323. See also Alkhateeb Shehada, Mamluks and Animals, plate 17, illustration 23 (see below, Fig. 7.1). Al-Bayṭār, Kāshif i, 81; see also al-Damīrī, Ḥayāt al-ḥayawān i, 442–7.

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With regard to the acquisition of horses, the situation is quite the opposite. For reasons that will be clarified shortly, practically all the sources related to this activity are Arabic ones. Most of them are found in contemporary chronicles, veterinary treatises, and ḥisba manuals. Both slaves and horses were imported into Egypt from territories outside the Mamluk Sultanate. Slaves who were brought from the areas lying to the north of the Black Sea, from the Caucasus and the Balkans—distant countries in which the sultan had no say—were integrated into the Mamluk military system. The exportation of female slaves from these regions seems to have been of smaller proportions.4 From the Sudan and from the Maghreb’s ports of Tunis and Tripoli arrived black African slaves, female and male, who were intended to serve not as fighting horsemen but in various other capacities.5 The term used to denote them was not mamlūk (pl. mamālīk) but ʿabd (pl. ʿabīd) for male slaves, and jāriya (pl. jawārī) for female ones.6 Most of the above-mentioned lines of supply depended on maritime transportation on board vessels hoisting European flags: Genoese, as well as Venetian, Catalan, French, or Cypriot. Consequently, it is mainly in Western sources that we find evidence of such activity. Horses, on the other hand, normally reached the Mamluk Sultanate by land from areas that were either under the sultan’s rule, or within the Mamluk sphere of influence.7 In addition, a small number of them were occasionally received as presents from various dignitaries and rulers. Thus, it is mostly in Mamluk sources that we may track down evidence for these transactions.8 The principal demand for slaves in the Mamluk Sultanate was for young males who were subsequently trained to become horsemen. The supply of young Tatars, Circassians, Greeks, Albanians, Turks, and others to the Mamluk state was partly sustained by recurrent military conflicts among various ethnic groups in the regions concerned, as well as by difficult economic conditions that forced parents to sell their offspring into slavery.9 Indeed, many of these slaves were young boys of about ten years of age, a phase considered to be ideal for transforming them into fighting horsemen. Slaves originating from the Balkans are believed to be a

4

5 6 7

8

9

On the exportation of female slaves from the Caucasus, the Balkans, and southern Anatolia, see Verlinden, Mamelouks et traitants 744–6. Piloti, Traité 135; Ashtor, Les métaux précieux 93–4; Verlinden, Mamelouks et traitants 745. Lewis, Race and Color 38, 64; Brunschvig, ʿAbd; Barker, Purchasing a Slave 5. Al-Maqrīzī, al-Khiṭaṭ iii, 365–6; idem, al-Sulūk ii, 503; Ibn Taghrībirdī, al-Nujūm al-zāhira ix, 167; Ibn Duqmāq, al-Jawhar al-thamīn 365–6. Abū al-Fidāʾ, al-Mukhtaṣar iv, 65, 106, etc. See also Alkhateeb Shehada, Mamluks and Animals 67–72. Al-Maqrīzī, al-Sulūk iii, 302–3; Heyd, Histoire du commerce ii, 556; Yosef, Ethnic Groups 200.

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byproduct of Ottoman expansion in that area, and were probably also quite young.10 Emmanuel Piloti, an early fifteenth-century Cretan merchant who spent several years in Egypt, left a detailed description of this supply system, emphasizing the variability of the value of slaves according to their ethnic affiliations. According to him, in Cairo’s slave market, Tatar slaves, who were considered of the highest value, were sold for 130 to 140 ducats; they were followed in value by Circassians (110–120 duc.), Greeks (90 duc.), and Albanians, Slovenians, and Serbs (70–80 duc.).11 Obviously, physical characteristics were an important factor in evaluating the price of every individual slave. Additionally, sultans had their own preferences for slaves of specific cultural backgrounds. Thus, al-Nāṣir Muḥammad ibn Qalāwūn (d. 741/1341) bought a great number of slaves originating from “Bilād Uzbak” (Kipchaks and Mongols), who are described in Mamluk chronicles as “Turks.”12 The sultan Barqūq, on the other hand, initiated a long period in which Circassian slaves were preferred.13 Horses were also graded according to their origin and physical characteristics. The Arabian horse, considered to be of noble descent, was sold for the highest price.14 The characteristics of noble horses are described in great detail in the veterinary literature and ḥisba manuals, including the colors, proportions of the body, length of hair, form of the ears, facial physiognomy, and so on.15 This practice receives an aura of time-honored respectability in a tradition recounted by the contemporary Yemenite king, al-Malik al-Mujāhid al-Rasūlī (d. 764/1362), and attributed to a certain Asmāʾ, son of Khārija al-Fazārī, who belonged to the first generations of Islam and was a confidant of the first caliphs. He describes the physical characteristics of a noble horse, emphasizing its size, shape, and proportions. According to this text, such a horse would have pure skin color, eyes, and hooves; wide rump, jaws, and nostrils; long haunch and neck; pointed ears; large face and buttocks; big eyeballs and upper thighs; muscled forelegs and slender part of the forelegs; thin elbows; and slender tip of nose, eyelids, chin groove, and mouth.16 Al-Malik al-Mujāhid observed that noble Arabian horses that were

10 11

12 13 14 15 16

Verlinden, Mamelouks et traitants 746. Piloti, Traité 52–54. In the early 1420s, the Venetian gold ducat was roughly equivalent, or slightly less so, to the dinar used as a unit of account (one mithqāl containing 4/25 gr. of gold). See Bacharach, The Dinar versus the Ducat 80, 95; Table 7.1. in the Appendix. Al-Maqrīzī, al-Sulūk iii, 302–3; Yosef, Ethnic Groups 63. Al-Maqrīzī, al-Sulūk v, 446; Ayalon, Circassians 141; Yosef, Ethnic Groups 91. For some examples, see Table 7.2. in the Appendix. Ṣāḥib Tāj al-Dīn, Kitāb al-Bayṭara i, 107–9; al-Bayṭār, Kāshif i, 303–9, 323. Al-Rasūlī, al-Aqwāl al-kāfiya 166; Alkhateeb Shehada, Mamluks and Animals 263, n. 109 (where Asmāʾ is erroneously referred to as a woman). See also below, Fig. 7.2.

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brought to the lands of non-believers (bilād al-kufr) tended to degenerate, refrain from reproducing, and have a short life span.17 The acquisition of young slaves in the Black Sea region was carried out by agents sent by the sultans to these areas and known as khawājahs. Presumably, these agents were able to recognize a potential good fighter among the young boys offered for sale.18 However, the exportation of slaves from these regions to Egypt depended entirely on the collaboration with Italian—mainly Genoese—ship owners and with the authorities of the Genoese colony at Caffa (today Feodosia, on the southern coast of Crimea), the main port of departure for the slave ships. The Genoese ship owners profited considerably from this activity, and Genoa’s authorities at Caffa enjoyed revenues through taxation imposed on the exportation of slaves. Yet only slaves that declared themselves not to be Christians and to have no intention of converting to Christianity were allowed to sail from Caffa.19 Mamluk agents were probably also active in the Balkans, but the organization of this line of supply still remains to be elucidated. Both lines of supply converged in the ports around the straits linking the Black Sea and the Mediterranean, whence the slaves were shipped to Egypt. According to Michel Balard, in the mid-1380s at least 1,500 slaves were exported annually through Caffa. Although many of them ended up in other markets,20 it may be surmised that probably over half of them reached the Mamluk Sultanate. The number of slaves originating from other areas, such as Asia Minor, Persia, and Iraq, cannot be even roughly estimated.21 Charles Verlinden compared the conditions on these slave ships to those on vessels that transported African slaves to America from the sixteenth century onward.22 A few examples, not necessarily related to Egypt, refer to about 80, 114, and even 185 slaves on board a single vessel, and a high death rate is reported in two cases.23 Malnutrition, overcrowding, and the perils of piracy and war were undoubtedly real risks that transformed the voyage into a dangerous enterprise. The purchase of horses for the sultan’s stables was organized in a different manner. A few Arabian tribes, particularly the Muhannā and Faḍl, specialized in raising Arabian horses and also acquired horses from other tribes, thus acting— more or less—as the sultans’ agents. This activity enriched them, and they

17 18 19 20 21 22 23

Al-Rasūlī, al-Aqwāl al-kāfiya 162. Ayalon, L’Esclavage 1–4; Sato, Slave Traders 145. Verlinden, Mamelouks et traitants 741. Balard, La Romanie génoise ii, 830. Ayalon, L’Esclavage 3; Ashtor, Les métaux précieux 90. Verlinden, Mameloukes et traitants 744. Ibid. 743–4.

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enjoyed privileges and power throughout the Arabian Peninsula, especially during the rule of al-Nāṣir Muḥammad ibn Qalāwūn.24 The passionate interest of al-Nāṣir Muḥammad in Arabian horses must have been common knowledge throughout the Islamic world. According to alMaqrīzī (d. 845/1442), people from Bahrein, al-Ḥasāʾ (or al-Aḥsāʾ), al-Qaṭīf (the latter two regions located in the south-eastern part of modern Saudi Arabia), the Hijaz, and Iraq came to Cairo to offer their four-footed merchandise to the sultan and make a fortune out of such deals.25 Sultan al-Nāṣir Muḥammad was famous for his passion for noble Arabian horses and was ready to pay exorbitant sums of money for them.26 Al-Maqrīzī writes that he was known to be ready to disburse between 10,000 and 30,000 dirhams “and 500 mithqāl of gold” for a few mares, and offered expensive presents to their suppliers. In exceptional cases, he would pay between 60,000 and 90,000 dirhams for a single horse, and in one famous case—a mare called al-Karshāʾ—he paid 100,000 dirhams plus additional presents.27 We always have to take such figures in medieval chronicles with a grain of salt, unless we can substantiate them with the help of data of actual deals carried out in that period. Since our data concerning prices actually paid for horses in Cairo’s markets (see Table 7.2) belong to the very end of the Mamluk period, any comparison with al-Maqrīzī’s figures would be hazardous, especially since it would also require converting dirhams to dinars, which is a very complicated operation when dealing with periods so far apart. Therefore, we can at most refer only to orders of magnitude without attempting to deal with accurate calculations. According to Balog, in the first half of the fourteenth century (i.e., the time of alNāṣir Muḥammad), 20–25 dirhams were equivalent to one dinar.28 Thus, the 10,000 to 30,000 dirhams mentioned by al-Maqrīzī would equal 500 to 1500 dinars on the high end, or 400 to 1200 dinars on the low end. Interestingly, in a 1499 case recorded in Table 7.2, a horse was sold in Cairo’s market for 400 dinars (ashrafī), a sum similar to those quoted by our chronicler, although the dinar also changed its value between the two periods. In any event, all other horses listed in Table 7.2 were sold for much lower prices, between 10 and 50 dinars. Horses of less prestigious status, and consequently of lesser value, were the ones called Turkish or ʿAjamī mounts (also denominated hamālij or akādīsh), which presumably originated from areas to the north or northwest of Syria. These 24

25 26 27 28

Al-Maqrīzī, al-Khiṭaṭ ii, 147, iii, 365–66; idem, al-Sulūk ii, 526; Ibn Taghrībirdī, al-Nujūm alzāhira ix, 167; Ibn Duqmāq, al-Jawhar al-thamīn 365–6. See also Alkhateeb Shehada, Mamluks and Animals 59. Al-Maqrīzī, al-Khiṭaṭ iii, 365. Levanoni, Turning Point 175; Alkhateeb Shehada, Mamluks and Animals 67, 183, 265. Al-Maqrīzī, al-Khiṭaṭ iii, 365. Balog, History of the Dirhem 134.

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were stout animals mainly employed as beasts of burden. A cross-breeding between an Arabian mare and a Turkish male was considered as an intermediate category, known as hajīn. Horses of the lowest among the ten categories mentioned by one writer were called Franjī (Frankish), and not surprisingly, were rather unpopular among the Mamluks.29 Prices differed accordingly, as in the case of slaves.30 It should be noted that not all sultans were keen to acquire noble horses. For example, Arabic sources claim that Sultan Qalāwūn (r. 1279–90) chose to cut expenses by recruiting mainly non-noble horses, of the type known as burqa, that were probably of Maghribī origin.31 Unlike the patterns of slave importation, which involved long-distance maritime voyages in foreign ships, the lines of provision of horses followed roads that were entirely or partly under Mamluk rule, and the train of newly acquired colts and fillies could be protected by Mamluk soldiers. It can therefore be surmised that horses acquired by the sultans’ agents had better chances to survive and suffered less hardships on their way to Egypt compared to the young slaves, although in both cases the departure from parents or mare must have caused psychological strains. Like the slaves acquired abroad, the newly acquired horses had to be young, around two or three years of age, which was considered ideal for the beginning of a horse’s training. As a matter of fact, the slave boys and the horses began their respective training together: the former’s early education, lasting about two to three years after reaching Egypt, mainly included Islamic precepts.32 Veterinarians advised not starting horses’ physical training before the age of 18 months.33 The relatively lightweight young boys were suited to learn horsemanship with a two- or three-year-old colt or filly. The interaction between horse and rider and the close bond between them was a key to success—and sometimes even to survival—in battle, hunting expeditions, and sports, as emphasized in contemporary sources.34

29

30 31 32

33 34

Al-Bayṭār, Kāshif i, 79, 319, 327; al-Rasūlī, al-Aqwāl al-kāfiya 361–2; Alkhateeb Shehada, Mamluks and Animals 266–72, 373. See Tables 7.1 and 7.2. Al-Maqrīzī, al-Khiṭaṭ iii, 365; Alkhateeb Shehada, Mamluks and Animals 266. Verlinden, Mameloukes et traitants 740. Al-Maqrīzī discusses the various methods used in the education of Mamluks from the moment of their arrival at the court of the ruler in Cairo. He also refers to the subject matter they studied when they were young, particularly emphasizing their education in the doctrines of the new religion, in preparation for performing the basic religious duties (al-Khiṭaṭ iii, 346–48). For the early training of the Mamluks, see Ayalon, The Mamluk Novice 7–8. Al-Bayṭār, Kāshif i, 323; al-Rasūlī, al-Aqwāl al-kāfiya 192–3. Alkhateeb Shehada, Mamluks and Animals 24–8. See also below, Fig. 7.3.

MAMLUK ACQUISITION OF HORSES AND SLAVES

157

Although both slaves and horses were sold and acquired in Mamluk markets like other kinds of merchandise, transactions in which slaves and horses were involved had specific characteristics related to the fact that such deals involved living creatures of considerable value. Slave buying manuals and ḥisba manuals, as well as descriptions by foreign travelers, offer information on the examination of slaves and horses in the markets of Cairo and Alexandria.35 A few contracts related to the sale of horses and mules in the late Mamluk period also refer to such an examination as a routine procedure. Veterinary treatises include instructions for the medical examination of horses and mules in general.36 Comparing the sources related to these two kinds of living “goods” one is struck by the similarity between them. Indeed, Felix Fabri, the well-known German traveler who left a detailed and vivid description of his travels in the Islamic Levant in the 1480s, saw no difference in the ways in which experienced dealers treated humans and equines in Alexandria’s big markets.37 The Arabic sources contain checklists of examinations to be performed in both cases: the general appearance of the slave or horse, the proportions of different body parts, the color of skin and hair, the smell of the body, the condition of teeth, gums, and tongue (including the odor of mouth and nose), a test of the voice, an inspection of the eyes and sight, a hearing test including the physical condition of the ears, and examination of different sorts of movement.38 It also included an examination of general comportment, which in the case of humans involved an interview. Such thorough examinations were also intended to uncover possible flaws or defects concealed by the vendors. The body of both horse and human slave was thoroughly examined, despite restrictions, motivated by moral considerations, concerning the examination of intimate human organs, included in the ḥisba manuals.39 The names given to both slaves and horses had a particular significance. On their arrival in the sultanate slaves received new names that were often either Turkish or Circassian, which subsequently denoted that they belonged to the Mamluk elite. By contrast, their offspring, the so-called awlād al-nās, were given Arabic-Muslim names.40 Names given to horses had an opposite connotation: the 35 36

37 38 39 40

For the examination of slaves, see Barker, Purchasing a Slave. On the medical examination of horses in the market, see a chapter in Abū Bakr al-Bayṭār’s book explaining how to determine the age of a horse by the state of its teeth: al-Bayṭār, Kāshif i, 109–11; Ṣāḥib Tāj al-Dīn also devotes a chapter to this question, and he adds the subject of early diagnosis by the external appearance and facial expression of the horse—“firāsa.” See Ṣāḥib Tāj al-Dīn, Kitāb al-Bayṭara i, 104–9. See also Alkhateeb Shehada, Mamluks and Animals 184, 208–9, 473, and more generally, passim. Fabri, Evagatorium iii, 165, cited in Barker, Purchasing a Slave 16–7. See Fig. 7.4. Barker, Purchasing a Slave 10–7. Amitai, Military Slavery 10; Yosef, Ethnic Groups 9–14, 94–101, 120–6.

158

H. ALKHATEEB SHEHADA

noble Arabic fillies and colts (i.e., the most prestigious ones) were given Arabic names and were registered with their genealogy and physical traits.41 Both horses and slaves could be later given by the sultan to one of his amirs. The status of such a horse symbolized not only the sultan’s prestigious authority, but also the status of the receiver.42 Would it be possible to compare the material values of slaves and horses? The above-mentioned contracts for the sale of horses and other equines concluded in Egypt during the last decades of the Mamluk Sultanate may provide us with a rough idea about the value of these animals, although it is rather difficult to establish the actual value of the sums mentioned in these contracts, and no less difficult to compare these figures with the random information we possess on the value of slaves. Reaching a general impression on orders of magnitude seems to be the closest we can get to such a comparison.43 On the basis of Mamluk sources, David Ayalon suggested that during the ninth/roughly fifteenth century, the average price paid in Egypt for a young slave was between 50 and 70 dinars; Eliyahu Ashtor estimated the average price in the same period at 70–80 dinars.44 The prices reported in 1420 by Piloti (see Table 7.1.) are closer to Ashtor’s estimate. The prices of male horses listed in Table 7.2., most probably noble mounts, varied between 20 and 50 dinars; not a small sum by any means, yet considerably less than the price of slaves mentioned by Piloti about eighty years earlier, or somewhat lower than the average prices of slaves suggested by Ayalon and Ashtor. Yet such a comparison has very little significance without taking into consideration the change in the value of monetary units and the specific circumstances of the market in those years—a task that cannot be carried out here. A fundamental difference between the supply of horses and that of slaves concerns the fact that horses could also be bred in Mamluk territories, as attested in the sources, whereas the supply of slaves depended entirely on their importation.45 Moreover, whereas the supply of horses from Arabia could be maintained until the last decades of the Mamluk Sultanate, the slave supply underwent peri41 42 43

44

45

Al-Maqrīzī, al-Khiṭaṭ iii, 365–6; al-Rasūlī, al-Aqwāl al-kāfiya 277–357. Al-Maqrīzī, al-Khiṭaṭ iii, 366. See also Alkhateeb Shehada, Mamluks and Animals 67–8, 176. Ashtor attempted to provide an average price of horses in different periods of the Mamluk sultanate; see his Histoire des prix et des salaires 363–5. Ayalon, L’Esclavage 6–9; Ashtor, Les métaux précieux 93–4. In his Histoire des prix et des salaires, Ashtor deals extensively with prices of slaves and horses throughout the Mamluk period. Al-Maqrīzī, al-Khiṭaṭ iii, 365–6; idem, al-Sulūk ii, 526; Ibn Taghrībirdī, al-Nujūm al-zāhira ix, 167; Ibn Duqmāq, al-Jawhar al-thamīn 365–6. On Mamluk horse breeding, see al-Bayṭār, Kāshif i, 319. See also Alkhateeb Shehada, Mamluks and Animals 68, 152, 168–9, 205, 260, 264–5, 372–4, 383. See also below, Fig. 7.5.

MAMLUK ACQUISITION OF HORSES AND SLAVES

159

ods of crisis owing to strategic changes in the areas concerned. The conquest of Caffa by Timur Lang (Tamerlane) in 1395 did not result in a total disruption of this trade, judging by a report of a Genoese vessel carrying 80 slaves that crossed the Dardanelles a year later,46 but according to Michel Balard, the number of slaves passing through Caffa was relatively small around the turn of the fifteenth century.47 In 1420, Emmanuel Piloti still estimated the number of slaves yearly imported by the Mamluks through the same port at about 2,000, but Ashtor came to the conclusion that this figure is greatly exaggerated.48 In any case, the Ottoman conquest of Constantinople in 1453 and the conquest of Caffa in 147549 were of much greater consequence for the system of Mamluk slave acquisition. Not only were the Genoese ships unable to continue their previous activity, but the Ottomans had a growing need for slaves in their own territories and could also easily block the passage of ships through the straits. The new geopolitical situation forced the Mamluks to look for other lines of slave supply. Land routes linking Mamluk Syria through eastern Anatolia, not yet dominated by the Ottomans, must have constituted an alternative solution, but they were much less comfortable than the supply system based on Caffa as a port of departure. During the Mamluk-Ottoman war of 1485–91, Sultan Bayezid II banned Mamluk slave trade throughout Ottoman territories, but in the peace treaty that ended this war (1492) the Ottomans consented to its renewal.50 Syria must have gained greater importance in these last years of Mamluk rule, as a stepping stone to eastern Anatolia and the Caucasus, where slaves could still be acquired. However, that situation did not last long. Aside from the financial difficulties of the sultanate, the gradual expansion of the Ottomans into areas that had once served for the acquisition of future Mamluks signaled the imminent demise of the slave sultanate, which in 1517 was finally integrated into the Ottoman Empire.

46 47 48

49 50

Verlinden, Mameloukes et traitants 744. Balard, La Romanie génoise ii, 830. Piloti, Traité 54; Verlinden, Mameloukes et traitants 746–7; Ashtor, Les métaux précieux 88– 90. Imber, The Ottoman Empire 35. Har-El, Struggle for Domination 212–3.

H. ALKHATEEB SHEHADA

160

Appendix Table 7.1. Mamluk Acquisition of Slaves51

51

Ethnicity

Price

Gender

1 2

Tatar Circassian

130–140 ducats 110–120 ducats

male male

3 4 5 6 7 8

Greek Albanian Slovenian Serbian Nubian unknown

90 ducats 70–80 ducats 70–80 ducats 70–80 ducats 550 dirhams 420 dirhams

male male male male female Female

Numbers 1–6 according to Piloti, Traité 54 (1420); numbers 7–8 according to Asali, Jerusalem ii, 28–9, 152–5 (1385 and 1393 respectively).

MAMLUK ACQUISITION OF HORSES AND SLAVES

161

Table 7.2. Mamluk Acquisition of Horses and Mules52 Date

Animal type

1

904 (1499)

mule

2

904 (1499)

‫فحل‬ horse

Price

Sex

Payment

Description

257.5 anṣāf53 female in specie in ‫بغلة حمر‬ ‫أنصاف عددية‬ ‫بداغ المقام الشريف‬ one installment a bay mule with a sultanic brand 400 ashrafī54

‫أشرفية‬

male

in two installments

‫فحل أشقر أغ ّر عالي سايل الغرة‬ ‫مح ّجل الرامحة اليمنى‬

Ref. p. 235

p. 236

a bright chestnut horse, with a blaze and a right, hind-leg sock55 3

905 (1500)

mule

?

‫ بغلة شاتها حمرا مدورة القد سالمة‬pp. 236– ‫من النار‬ 37

female

a mule with red (bay) circular marking, without burns 4

906 (1501)

mare

225 niṣf

‫نصف‬

female

one installment

‫ فرس فحل شامة بوزكحلي مدور القد‬pp. 237– 38 ‫به داغ المقام الشريف مح ّجل‬ ‫الرامحة اليمنى‬ a mare with a circular gray star, with a sultanic brand, with a sock on her right hind leg

5

910 (1505)

mare

15 dinars female one (Ashrafī and installment Ẓāhirī)

‫دينار ذهب أشرفي‬ ‫وظاهري‬

52 53

54

55 56

‫ فرس فحل أشقر اللون على كتفه‬pp. 238– ‫الايسر كي نار مح ّجل روامحه‬ 39 ‫اليمنى أغر عصفور‬ a bright chestnut mare with a brand on her left shoulder, socks on her right fore and hind legs,56 and a white star that spreads then narrows

Al-ʿUmarī, Dirāsa 223–49. [All references in Table 7.2 relate to this publication]. Niṣf (pl. anṣāf): half-weight dirham (silver coin or the corresponding money of account). See Ashtor, Les métaux précieux 45–6; Bacharach, Circassian monetary policy 11, 15. Ashrafī: a dinar weighing 3.45 gr., issued by Sultan al-Malik al-Ashraf Barsbāy in 1425, and subsequently by later Mamluk sultans. See Ashtor, Les métaux précieux 28; Schultz, Monetary History of Egypt 335–6. Rāmiḥa: hind leg, according to al-ʿUmarī, Dirāsa 254, n. 13 (without reference to the sources). The term “rawāmiḥ,” according to al-ʿUmarī, refers to the horse’s hind legs (see n. 42). However, in this case it seems to denote legs in general, unless the plural form “rawāmiḥ” here is erroneously used instead of the single form “rāmiḥa.”

162

H. ALKHATEEB SHEHADA

Date

Animal type

910 Stallion (1505) and mule

6

911 stallion (1506)

7

8

9

Price

Sex

Payment

35 dinars

male and female

6 dinars with the contract, and the other beginning of the next year (911)

‫ فحل محلى بوز بحمرة بدين القد‬pp. 239– 40 ‫مشطب بالنار وبغلة حمرا عالية القد‬ ‫سالمة من النار‬

one installment

‫ فحل شامة أشقر اللون مح ّجل ثلاثة‬p. 241 ‫مطلق اليمين سايل الغرة‬

‫دينار‬

21 dinars

‫دينار مصاري‬

911 stallion (1506)

14 dinars

911 (1506)

23 dinars +50 niṣf

horse

male

Description

Ref.

a massive stallion with a red muzzle, with brands and a bay, tall mule without burns

a bright chestnut stallion with a star, with three socks and the right foreleg of the same color as the body, with a blaze57 male

male

one installment

one installment

‫فحل شاته أحمر أصم‬

p. 242

a stallion with a bay marking, and a face free of white

‫ حصان سيمته أشقر عالي الق ّد سالم‬pp. 242– 43 ‫من النار بع داغ شريف أغر عصفور‬ a horse with a chestnut star, tall, without burns, with a sultanic brand and a white star that spreads then narrows

57

58

10

911 stallion (1506)

20 dinars (pure gold)

male

11

911 (1506)

20 dinars + 500 anṣāf maṣārī58

female

mule

one ‫ فحل شاته أحمر سايل الغرة مح ّجل‬pp. 243– ّ ‫ الروامح‬44 installment ‫مشط بالنار في رقبته وبه داغ‬ after 4 a stallion with a red star, a months blaze, with socks on his hind legs, burns on his neck, and a brand one installment

‫بغلة سوداء عالية القد‬ a tall, black mule

pp. 244– 45

The ideal description of the noble Arabian horse: “when the horse has three socks, and the right foreleg of the same color as the body.” See Alkhateeb Shehada, Mamluks and Animals 267–72. Maṣārī (pl. of maṣrī): Egyptian gold coins. See al-ʿUmarī, Dirāsa 262, n. 32.

163

MAMLUK ACQUISITION OF HORSES AND SLAVES

Date 12

Animal type

911 stallion (1506)

Price

Sex

Payment

11 dinars maṣārī

male

one installment

Description

Ref.

‫ فحل شاته أحمر اللون مح ّجل الشفة‬pp. 245– ‫ اليسرى أغ ّر عصفور بجبهته شامة به‬246 ‫داغ المقام الشريف‬ a bay stallion with a marking or whorl on his left lip, a star that spreads then narrows, marking (shāma) on his face, and a sultanic brand

13

911 stallion (1506)

11½ dinars maṣārī

male

one installment

‫فحل شاته أحمر اللون أغ ّر عصفور‬ ‫بجبهته شامة مضمر به داغ المقام‬ ‫الشريف وبه داغ كريمة‬

p. 246

a bay stallion that underwent a slimming regime,59 with a star that spreads then narrows, a marking (shāma) on his face, and a prestigious brand 14

15

59

919 (1513)

?

nag

‫أكديش‬

stallion

10 dinars

50 dinars

male

male

5 installments (2 dinars each)

‫أكديش شاته بوز ذبابي مد ّور الق ّد‬ ‫سالم من النار‬

p. 247

a nag with small dark marks on the muzzle, roundish, without brands

one installment after 3 days

Alkhateeb Shehada, Mamluks and Animals 191, 290–2, 300, 306.

‫فرس فحل‬ a stallion

p. 248

164

H. ALKHATEEB SHEHADA

Illustrations

Fig. 7.1. Noble Arab horse. Zakariyyā ibn Muḥammad al-Qazwīnī, ʿAjāʾib almakhlūqāt (The Marvels of Creation), Institute of Oriental Manuscripts of the Russian Academy of Sciences, St. Petersburg, MS 178 (Iran, 988/1580).

MAMLUK ACQUISITION OF HORSES AND SLAVES

Fig. 7.2. Favorite colors of noble Arab horses. Kitāb al-zardaqa fī maʿrifat alkhayl wa-ajnāsihā wa-amrāḍihā wa-adwiyatihā, Furusiyya Art Foundation (18th century).

165

166

H. ALKHATEEB SHEHADA

Fig. 7.3. Taming a horse. Aḥmad ibn al-Ḥasan ibn al-Aḥnaf, Kitāb al-bayṭara, The National Library and Archives of Egypt (Dār al-Kutub), Cairo, MS Ṭibb Khalīl Āghā 8, Microfilm 46631, fol. 91r (1209).

MAMLUK ACQUISITION OF HORSES AND SLAVES

Fig. 7.4. Horse’s teeth examination. Kitāb fī al-ʿināya bi-l-khayl wa-sāʾir dawābb al-rukūb, Bibliothèque Royale Hassaniya, Rabat, MS 6126, fols. 6v– 7r (1714).

167

168

H. ALKHATEEB SHEHADA

Fig. 7.5. Horse mating with a veterinarian’s intervention. Kitāb fī al-ʿināya bi-l-khayl wa-sāʾir dawābb al-rukūb, Bibliothèque Royale Hassaniya, Rabat, MS 6126, fol. 26r (1714).

MAMLUK ACQUISITION OF HORSES AND SLAVES

169

Bibliography Handwritten Sources Al-Qazwīnī, ʿAjāʾib al-makhlūqāt wa-gharāʾib al-mawjūdāt [The Marvels of the creation]. Institute of Oriental Manuscripts of the Russian Academy of Sciences, St. Petersburg, MS 178 (Iran, 988/1580). Ṣāḥib Tāj al-Dīn, Abū ʿAbd Allāh Muḥammad ibn Muḥammad ibn ʿAlī. Kitāb alBayṭarah, Book on Veterinary Medicine, Reproduced from MS 3608 Fatih Collection, Sülemaniye Library Istanbul. 2 vols. Edited by Fuat Sezgin. Frankfurt am Main 1984.

Published Sources Abū al-Fidāʾ, al-Mukhtaṣar fī akhbār al-bashar: Tārīkh Abī al-Fidāʾ, ed. M.ZM. ʿAzab, Y.S. Ḥusayn, et al., 4 vols., Cairo 1998–9. Al-Bayṭār, Kāshif hamm al-wayl fī maʿrifat amrāḍ al-khayl, aw kāmil alṣināʿatayn al-bayṭara wa-l-zarṭaqa al-maʿrūf bi-l-Nāṣirī, ed. ʿA. al-R. alDaqqāq and G. Troupeau, 2 vols., Beirut 1991–6. Al-Biqāʿī, Iẓhār al-ʿaṣr li-asrār ahl al-ʿaṣr: Tārīkh al-Biqāʿī, ed. M.S. ibn Sh. alʿAwfī, 3 vols., Cairo 1992–3. Al-Damīrī, Ḥayāt al-ḥayawān al-kubrá, 2 vols., Tehran 1415/1994. Fabri, F., Evagatorium in Terrae Sanctae, Arabiae et Egypti Peregrinationem, ed. C.D. Hassler, 3 vols., Stuttgart 1843–9. Ibn Duqmāq, al-Jawhar al-thamīn fī siyar al-khulafāʾ wa-l-mulūk wa-l-salāṭīn, ed. S. ʿA. al-F. ʿĀshūr, Riyadh 1982. Ibn Ṣaṣrá, al-Durra al-muḍīʾa fī al-dawla al-ẓāhiriyya, ed. W.M. Brinner, 2 vols., Berkeley 1963. Ibn Taghrībirdī, al-Nujūm al-zāhira fī mulūk Miṣr wa-l-Qāhira, ed. M.Ḥ. Shams al-Dīn, 16 vols., Beirut 1992. Al-Kalbī, Kitāb nasab al-khayl fī al-jāhiliyya wa-l-islām wa-akhbārihā, ed. N.Ḥ. al-Qaysī et al., Beirut 1987. Al-Maqrīzī, Kitāb al-sulūk li-maʿrifat duwal al-mulūk, ed. M.M. Ziyāda, Cairo 1939. ———, al-Mawāʿiẓ wa-l-iʿtibār bi-dhikr al-khiṭaṭ wa-l-āthār al-maʿrūf bi-l-khiṭaṭ al-maqrīziyya, 2 vols., Cairo 1996.

170

H. ALKHATEEB SHEHADA

Piloti, E., Traité d’Emmanuel Piloti sur le passage en Terre Sainte (1420), ed. P.H. Dopp, Louvain and Paris 1958. Al-Qazwīnī, ʿAjāʾib al-makhlūqāt wa-gharāʾib al-mawjūdāt, Beirut n. d. Al-Rasūlī, al-Aqwāl al-kāfiya wa-l-fuṣūl al-shāfiya fī al-khayl, ed. Y. Jabūrī, Beirut 1987.

References Alkhateeb Shehada, H., Mamluks and Animals: Veterinary Medicine in Medieval Islam, Leiden 2013. Amitai, R., Military Slavery in the Islamic World: 1000 Years of a Social-Military Institution, in Medieval Mediterranean Slavery: Comparative Studies on Slavery and the Slave Trade in Muslim, Christian, and Jewish Societies (8th–15th Centuries). http://med-slavery.uni-trier.de:9080/minev/MedSlavery/publications/Amitai.pdf (August 2007) ʿAsalī, K.J., Jerusalem Historical Documents, Vol. 2., Beirut 1985. Ashtor, E., Histoire des prix et des salaires dans l’Orient médiéval, Paris 1969. ———, Les métaux précieux et la balance des payements du Proche-Orient à la Basse Époque, Paris 1971. Ayalon, D., The Circassians in the Mamlūk Kingdom, in Journal of the American Oriental Society 69 (1949), 135–47. ———, L’Esclavage du Mamelouk, Jerusalem 1951. ———, The Mamluk Novice: on his Youthfulness and on his Original Religion, Revue des Études Islamiques 54 (1986), 1–8. Bacharach, J.L., Circassian Monetary Policy: Copper, in Journal of the Economic and Social History of the Orient 19, no. 1 (1976), 32–47. ———, The Dinar versus the Ducat, in International Journal of Middle East Studies 4, no. 1 (1973), 77–96. Balard, M., La Romanie génoise (XIIe–début du XVe siècle), 2 vols., Genoa 1978. Balog, P., History of the Dirhem in Egypt from the Fāṭimid Conquest until the Collapse of the Mamlūk Empire, in Revue numismatique, 6e série, Tome 3 (1961), 109–46. Barker, H., Purchasing a Slave in Fourteenth-Century Cairo: Ibn al-Akfānī’s Book of Observation and Inspection in the Examination of Slaves, in Mamlūk Studies Review 19 (2016), 1–23.

MAMLUK ACQUISITION OF HORSES AND SLAVES

171

Brunschvig, R., ʿAbd, in The Encyclopaedia of Islam, 2nd ed. First published online: 2012. http://referenceworks.brillonline.com/entries/encyclopaedia-of-islam-2/abd-COM_0003 (accessed June 24, 2017). Har-El, Sh., Struggle for Domination in the Middle East: The Ottoman-Mamluk War, 1485–1491, Leiden 1995. Heyd, W., Histoire du commerce du Levant au Moyen-Age, 2 vols., Leipzig 1885– 6 (reprinted Amsterdam, 1967). Imber, C., The Ottoman Empire, London 2002. Levanoni, A., A Turning Point in Mamluk History: The Third Reign of al-Nāṣir Muḥammad ibn Qalāwūn (1310–1341), Leiden 1995. Lewis, B., Race and Color in Islam, New York 1971. Sato, T., Slave Traders and Karimi Merchants during the Mamluk Period: A Comparative Study, in Mamlūk Studies Review 10, no. 1 (2006), 141–56. Schultz, W.C., The Monetary History of Egypt, 642–1517, in C.F. Petry (ed.), The Cambridge History of Egypt, vol. 1, Islamic Egypt, 640–1517, Cambridge 1998, 318–38. Al-ʿUmarī, Ā., Dirāsa li-baʿḍ wathāʾiq tataʿallaq bi-bayʿ wa-shirāʾ khuyūl min alʿaṣr al-mamlūkī, in Majallat maʿhad al-makhṭūṭāt al-ʿarabiyya 10, no. 2 (Rajab 1384/Nov. 1964), 223–49. Verlinden, Ch., Mamelouks et traitants, in Économies et sociétés au Moyen Âge: Mélanges offerts à Edouard Perroy, Paris 1973, 737–47. Yosef, K., Ethnic Groups, Social Relationships and Dynasty in the Mamluk Sultanate (1250–1517), Ph.D. diss., Tel Aviv University 2010. ———, Mamluks and their Relatives in the Period of the Mamluk Sultanate (1250–1517), in Mamlūk Studies Review 16 (2012), 55–69.

INDEX

A

amīr silāḥ 22, 26

Abbasid caliphs 2

Anatolia 2, 45, 159

Abbasids 12

animals 4

ʿAbd al-Muʾmin ibn Sharafshāh al-Naqqāsh alTabrīzī 76

Aqbirdī 23

ablaq 50-52, 54

Arabian Peninsula 155

Abū Bakr ibn al-Baṣīṣ al-Baʿalbakkī 57-58

Arghūn al-ʿAlāʾī 26

Abū Bakr al-Nāṣirī 151

al-Ashraf Barsbāy 11-12, 29, 72, 106, 114-15

Abū al-Fidāʾ 58

al-Ashraf Īnāl 21-23, 28-29

Abū Hurayra 129

al-Ashraf Qāytbāy 10, 22-25, 28-29, 47, 141

Abū Saʿīd 72, 75

al-Ashraf Shaʿbān 20, 77-78

Adam 151

Asia Minor 29, 154

al-Afḍal ibn Amīr al-Juyūsh 131

Aṣlbāy 24

Africa 2

Asmāʾ ibn Khārija al-Fazārī 153

Afrīdūn al-ʿAjamī, Shams al-Dīn 49, 51-52, 54-55, 57

atābak 22, 25-26

Aḥmad, son of al-Muʾayyad Shaykh 29 Aḥmad ibn Muḥammad Ibn Imraʾat al-ʿArīf 51, 55

Āq Qoyunlū 72

awlād al-nās 21-22, 157 Aydughdī ibn ʿAbd Allāh al-Badrī 88 Aytamish 26, 47

Aḥmad ibn Muḥammad ibn Yūsuf al-Khālidī alṢafadī al-Ḥanafī 109

Baalbek 76

Aḥmad al-Mutaṭabbib 90-91

al-Babbaghāʾ, Abū al-Faraj 133

al-Aḥsāʾ 155

Bāb al-Jābiyya (Damascus) 49

Albanians 152-53

Bāb al-Ṣaghīr Cemetery (Damascus) 49

Aleppo 2, 20, 28, 48, 50-51

Badr al-Jamālī 131

Alexandria 2, 9-12, 20, 157

Baghdad 4, 74, 76, 84

ʿAlī Shāh Ghīlānī 76

Bahrein 155

Alṭunbughā al-Qurmushī 29

Baktimur, Sayf al-Dīn 73-74

ambassadors 72

Balkans 2, 152, 154

America 154

barīd 59

Āmid 78

barracks 2

amīr ākhūr 22, 140

Bashtāk 48

amīr majlis 22

Baybars, al-Ẓāhir Barqūq’s nephew 26-27

B

174

EXCHANGE IN THE MAMLUK SULTANATE

Bayezid II 9, 159

al-duhaysha 58

Baylik 8

E

Baysunghur 114 bayt al-māl 4

Egypt 7, 10, 22, 69-70, 75, 92, 151-54, 156, 158

Beirut 57

Emmanuel Piloti xxi, 153, 158-59

Berke Khan 72

eunuchs 2

Berlin 107

Europe 2

Bilād al-Shām 7, 49, 56, 58, 109 Black Sea 2, 9-12, 152, 154 Bertrandon de la Broquière 5 al-Būṣīrī 73

F Faḍl (Tribe) 154 Fāṭima, daughter of al-Ashraf Īnāl 28 Fāṭima, wife of al-Ashraf Qāytbāy 23, 25

Byzantines 9-10

Felix Fabri 157

Byzantium 2

fiqh 22, 108 C

fraudsters 4

Caffa 2, 10-12, 154, 159

furūsiyya 2

Cairo 2, 5, 23-24, 27, 43-44, 46-47, 51-54, 59, 72-78, 107, 109, 115, 117, 133, 153, 155, 157

Gaza 44, 56, 115

Cairo, Citadel 6, 23-24, 52, 59

Genoa 2, 10-12, 154

Caucasus 2, 152, 159

Georgia 2

Circassians 2, 152-53

Ghāzān 80, 82

Constantinople 9, 159

gifts 72, 114, 118, 130, 133, 135

craftsmen 71, 75

Golden Horde 2, 5-6, 9-10, 72-73

Crimean peninsula 2, 9-10, 154

Greeks 152-53

G

Crusader captives 46

H D

Ḥabība 23

dallāl 4

Hājar 20-21

Damascus 2, 5, 46, 48-56, 58-59, 73, 75-76, 78

Ḥājjī Khalīfa 107, 118

Dāmūr River 57-58

Hama 21, 58

Dardanelles 159

Hamadan 73-74

dawādār 22, 118, 141-42

Hanafism 105

dawādār kabīr 24

Haram (Mecca) 106

dawāt 125-26, 128-31, 133-36, 140-44

al-Ḥasāʾ 155

dīwān al-inshāʾ 7

al-Ḥasan, brother-in-law of al-Ẓāhir Ṭaṭar 29

dīwān al-khāṣṣ 7

Ḥasan ibn Badr al-Dīn ibn Khāṣṣbak 22

Don River 2

Ḥasan ibn Wahb 128 Herat 73, 103, 109, 114-16, 118

175

INDEX

Hijaz 106, 155

Jeddah 114-15

horses 7, 131, 151-54, 156-58

Jerusalem 11, 44, 47-48, 56, 115, 151 jewels 6

I Ibn al-Bārizī, Nāṣir al-Dīn 21 Ibn Ḥajar 20, 22, 49, 73, 111, 113 Ibn Iyās 23, 111-13, 116

Jibrīl 129 Jijukbughā 104, 118 Joseph 151 al-julbān 3

Ibn Kathīr 52, 59, 129-30 Ibn Khaldūn 1-2, 75, 112

K

Ibn Mubādir 76, 86, 88

Kaʿba 106, 116

Ibn Taghrībirdī 20, 111, 113, 115-17

Kalāl 115-16 (see also Kalār, Niẓām al-Dīn Aḥmad ibn Dāʾūd)

Ibn al-Waḥīd, Sharaf al-Dīn Muḥammad ibn Sharaf ibn Yūsuf al-Kātib al-Zarʿī alMiṣrī 76

Kalān ibn Mubārak Shāh 115

Ibrāhīm, son of al-Muʾayyad Shaykh 29

Kalār, Niẓām al-Dīn Aḥmad ibn Dāʾūd 113, 119

Ibrāhīm al-Āmidī 77-78, 88-89, 92

al-Kāmil Shaʿbān 26, 139

Ibrāhīm ibn Ghānim 53-54

Karak 25

Ibrāhīm ibn Qarmash 8

Karakorum 5

al-Ibshīhī 131

Kasbāy al-Khushqadamī 28

Ilkhanate 6, 9

kātib 125

Ilkhanids 69, 73

kātib al-sirr 21

Ilkhans 10

Kayseri 107

Gentile Imperiale 5

khāṣṣakiyya 141-42

Īnālbāy 27

khawājah 7, 154

India 2

Khayrbak al-Ẓāhirī 28

inkwell 125-28, 132, 141 (see also dawāt)

Khwāfī, Ghiyāth al-Dīn Pir Aḥmad 114, 119

Iran 69

Khwāfī, Muḥammad 116, 119

Iraq 69, 76, 84, 154-55

Khwāndamīr, Ghiyāth al-Dīn 104, 109, 118

Isfahan 50

Kipchaks 153

Ishmael 151

kiswa 106, 116

Istanbul 46, 107

kitābkhānah 105 Konya 107 J

Kurtubāy 23

jamdār 140 Jāmiʿ al-ʿAṭṭār (Tripoli) 58 Jānbulāṭ 24-25

L Lebanon 57

Jānim al-Sharīfī 23, 29 Jānkildī, wife of al-Ẓāhir Qānṣūh 24

M Madrasa of Afrīdūn al-ʿAjamī (Damascus) 49

176

EXCHANGE IN THE MAMLUK SULTANATE

Maghreb 152

mulāṭafa 133

mamluks 1-4, 8, 10-12, 18

mules 157

Manisa 45

Murād II 72

Mankalī Bughā al-Shamsī 20

murakhkhimūn 53

al-Manṣūr Ḥājjī 25-26

musāmaḥa 7

al-Manṣūr Qalāwūn 6, 10, 156

al-mushtarawāt 3

al-Manṣūr ʿUthmān ibn Jaqmaq 21, 23

al-Mustaʿīn bi-llāh 28

al-Maqrīzī 7, 20, 22, 75, 111, 114-15, 155

al-Muẓaffar Baybars 76, 83, 86, 88, 90

marble workers 53 N

market inspector 4, 111–12 (see also muḥtasib) marriage 17 masons 53 al-Māturīdī 104, 106-11, 117, 119 Mausoleum of Baybars (Cairo) 53 Mecca 47, 106, 114, 116 Medina 47 Mediterranean 9-11, 154 Mengu Timur Khan 5, 10 Michael VIII Palaeologus 9-10 Minṭāsh 25-26 Miṣrbāy 23-24 misṭara 89-91 Mongols 153 al-Muʾayyad Shaykh 6, 27-29, 109

naẓar al-khāṣṣ 4 Nahr al-Kalb 57 nāʾib al-Shām 48, 50, 57, 59 nakhkhās 4 Nāṣir al-Dīn Ḥusayn 57 al-Nāṣir Faraj 7, 19, 26-27 al-Nāṣir Ḥasan 45, 50 Nāṣirī rawk 139 al-Nāṣir Muḥammad b. Qalāwūn 4-5, 7-8, 10-12, 48-50, 52, 54, 57, 72-73, 75-76, 78, 138, 153, 155 al-Nāṣir Muḥammad b. Qāytbāy 22-25 Nawrūz al-Ḥāfiẓī 27-28 al-Nuʿaymī 49 al-Nuwayrī 72, 135

Mubārak ibn ʿAbd Allāh 74 Mubārak Shāh 115 Mubārakshāh al-Suyūfī 77-78

O Ottomans 2, 9-10, 12, 159

al-Mufaḍḍal Ibn Abī al-Faḍāʾil 53 P

Mughul, wife of al-Ẓāhir Jaqmaq 21, 28 Muḥammad (Prophet) 128-29 Muḥammad ibn Aḥmad Zaghlīsh al-Shāmī 48 Muḥammad ibn Ibrāhīm al-Muhandis 55-56 Muḥammad Jūkī 114 Muhannā (Tribe) 154

Pachymeres, George 9 papacy 11 pen box 131-32, 136 (see also dawāt) Persia 6, 154 Prophet’s Birthday 23-24

muḥtasib 4

Q

Muʿizz ibn Bādīs 128

qalam 125

al-Mujāhid 153

al-Qalqashandī 84, 127-28, 131-35, 143

177

INDEX

Qanāt al-ʿArūb (Jerusalem) 59 Qānibāy, son of al-Ẓāhir Barqūq's sister 27

al-Samarqandī, ʿAlāʾ al-Dīn Muḥammad ibn Aḥmad ibn Abī Aḥmad 107

Qānībāy Qarā 23

Ṣandal 74, 80

al-qarāniṣa 3

sāqī 140

al-Qaṣr al-Ablaq (Cairo) 54

Saray 2

al-Qaṣr al-Ablaq (Damascus) 52-53

Ṣarghatmish al-Nāṣirī 8, 74, 79

al-Qaṭīf 155

Sarṭaqṭāy 5

Qawṣūn (Mosque) 76

Saudi Arabia 155

Qawṣūn (Palace) 48

Sayf al-Dawla 133

Qubbat al-Fadāwiyya (Cairo) 45

al-sayfiyya 3

Qujuq al-ʿĪsāwī 29

Serbs 153

al-Qurṭubī 128, 130

Shafiʿis 128

Quṭlūbak ibn Qarāsunqur, Sayf al-Dīn 59

Shāh Rukh 73, 103-7, 109-11, 113-14, 116-19 Shajar al-Durr 17

R

Sheba 151

Rabʿ-i Rashīdī 89

Silk Road 70, 75, 78

rank 140

slaves 1-2, 4-5, 7, 10-12, 151-54, 156-59

Rashīd al-Dīn 80, 82, 89

Slovenians 153

Red Sea 114

Soldaia 9

Rum 4

Solgat 2, 9

Rūmī 80

Solomon 151

Russia 2

Spain 2 S

al-Ṣafadī 59 al-Sakhāwī 20, 111-13, 117-18 Sakrān 5 al-Ṣāliḥ ʿAlī ibn Qalāwūn 6 al-Ṣāliḥ Ismāʿīl 26, 50, 58 Salīm I 46 al-Sallāmī, Majd al-Dīn 5-6, 8

stone cutters 53 Sudan 152 Sūdāq 9 Sūdūn al-Ḥamzāwī 27 al-Ṣūlī 132 Sūq al-Qaṭṭānīn (Jerusalem) 48 Sutayta, daughter of al-Muʾayyad Shaykh 29 Syria 23, 26, 48, 75, 92, 104, 118, 155, 159

al-Sallāmiyya madrasa (Jerusalem) 48

T

Segurano Salvaygo 5

Tabriz 4, 47, 75-76, 78

Samarqand 46, 116, 119

Tafur, Pero 5

al-Samarqandī, ʿAbd al-Razzāq 103-4, 109, 117-18

Taghrībirdī 26-27

al-Samarqandī, Abū Bakr Muḥammad ibn Aḥmad 108-9

Tankiz 48

Tana 2 Tashkent 107

178

EXCHANGE IN THE MAMLUK SULTANATE

Tatars 2, 152-53 W

tax exemption 7 (see also musāmaḥa) Timur 46, 73, 75, 105, 116-17, 119, 159

war captives 2 wazīr 24

Timurids 105 Tokhta 10-11

Y

traders 4, 7-8

Yaḥyá al-Ṣūfī 77

Tripoli 44, 56-58

Yalbāy 23

Tripoli (Libya) 152

Yalbughā al-Nāṣirī 20, 25-26

Ṭūmānbāy 22-25

Yāqūt al-Mustaʿṣimī 74, 76-77

Ṭuquztimur al-Ḥamawī, Sayf al-Dīn 50

Yashbak 23, 29-30

Turks 152-53

Yashbak ibn Azdamir 27 U

Ukraine 2

Z al-Ẓāhir Barqūq 19-21, 23, 25-26, 29, 111-12, 141, 153

Ūljāytū 73-74, 80 Ulmās 48

al-Ẓāhir Baybars 5, 8-9, 22-23, 26, 52-53, 72, 141

Ulūgh Beg 116 ʿUmar, Khawājah 5, 10 al-ʿUmarī, Ibn Faḍl Allāh 52

al-Ẓāhir Jaqmaq 21, 23, 25, 28, 72-73, 103, 105-7, 111, 113-19

Urmia 76

al-Ẓāhir Khushqadam 19

ustādār 24

al-Ẓāhir Qānṣūh 23-24

ʿUthmān ibn ʿAffān 72

al-Ẓāhir Tamurbughā 28

Uzbak Khan 4, 73

al-Ẓāhir Ṭaṭar 29 al-Ẓāhir Yalbāy 28, 30 V

Venetians 10 Volga 2

Zaynab, daughter of al-Ẓāhir Barqūq 29 Zaynab, wife of al-Ashraf Īnāl 21