Abstract
The streets of Mamluk Cairo have been documented and catalogued extensively
within the past century, all the while being subjected to the scrutiny of historians,
theorists, architects and artists. If one can speak of a single common denominator that
seems to arise from the array of these studies it would have to be the fact that urban
factors have seemingly played a vital role in the formulation of Cairene Mamluk
architecture. Accordingly, the perspective of the urban analyst seems to be the one
that may yield new insight into our understanding of the complexities of Mamluk
aesthetic expressions.
Modern urban theory has provided us with a variety of interpretations for the
constituents of the urban language inherent within the image of modern cities. It is
my belief that subjecting Cairo to an analysis through such “new eyes” may help us in
our interpretation of not only Mamluk aesthetics but also urban design agendas and
their manifestations. Although attempting to interpret a past paradigm through the use
of modern tools may be essentially flawed, the absolute nature of urban perception
and the relative timelessness of urban imagery seem to argue for such an approach.
It is the aim of this study to attempt to reveal the urban intent of the Mamluk dynasty
through a modern analysis of the ceremonial paths of Cairo, being the most likely
candidates for the implementation of a dynastic urban agenda. This study will be
guided mainly by modern urban analysis techniques and will be confined to certain
historic time periods within the Mamluk dynasty, leading to a theoretical
reconstruction of the urban agenda of the Mamluk dynasty as expressed along the
main ceremonial paths of Cairo.
1
The Ceremonial-Urban Dynamic of Cairo from the Fatimid to the Early Mamluk
Period
Contents
1. Chapter One: Methods and Means
2.
3.
4.
5.
6.
7.
8.
An Architecture of Urban Forces
The Methodological Approach
A Review of the Literature
Conceptual Considerations
The Reconstruction: Ceremonial, Urbanism and the Sultanic Image
Pre-Mamluk Cairo
Final Considerations
2. Chapter Two: the Fatimid Ceremonial-Urban Dynamic
1.
2.
3.
4.
5.
6.
Ceremonial and the Fatimid Urban Image
The Reign of al-Aziz
The Reign of al-Hakim to al-Afdal
The Reign of al-Amir
The Fatimid Symbolic Urban Language
General Conclusions
3. Chapter Three: A Profile of the Patrons
1. The Mamluk Background
a. An Elitist Society
b. Prevailer Rules
c. Legitimacy and the Dynastic image
d. The Mamluk Visual Memory
2. Urbanism and the Sultanic Image
4. Chapter Four: The Ceremonial-Urban Dynamic of the Early Bahri Mamluks
1. Pre-Mamluk Cairo
2. Mamluk Ceremonial under the Bahri Sultans.
3. The Reign of Baybars
a. The Constructions of Baybars at the Citadel
b. The Dar al-‘Adl Phenomenon and the Dar al-‘Adl al-Zahiriyya
4. The Reign of Qalawun
5. The Reign of al-Ashraf Khalil
6. The Evolution of the Ceremonial Vocabulary: Elements and Patterns
7. Conclusions
2
5. Chapter Five: The Ceremonial-Urban Dynamic during the reign of the Sultan alNasir Muhammad b. Qalawun
1. The Dynastic Agenda: Politics and Architecture
2. Ceremonial and the Sultanic Image
3. The Southern Enclosure of the Citadel
a. Al-Iwan al-Kabir: An Analysis
b. Al-Iwan al-Kabir: The Meaning of the Whole as the Iconographic Sum of
its Parts.
6. Chapter Six: An Architectural Agenda Explained
1. The End of the Apogee
2. Closing Remarks
3
“The external form is for the sake of the unseen form and that took shape for
the sake of another unseen. Count these corollaries to the third, fourth or
tenth in proportion to your insight”
Mathnavi, 4, 2887-8.
4
Chapter One
Methods and Means
Al-Qahira; a true city of legend. With a rare ability she continues to inspire legends
ranging from the mythical to the downright practical. Take for example the legend of the
invention of the lead pencil. The story goes something like this; during the French
expedition to Egypt, the authors of the Déscription supposedly consumed their stock of
ink during the course of their work on Cairo. Running out of time and ink being in short
supply, it was decided to melt down the now useless ammunition into lead cores, which
would later be encased in wooden sheaths and thus the invention of the pencil.1 There is
something to be learnt from this amusing anecdote; mainly that a single city could
instigate such innovation and the length of its commentary deplete the ink stores of an
entire army! Apparently the world owes a lot to Cairo and hence I begin to pay my dues.
So what exactly makes Cairo so unique? It surely fits the Khaldunian model of a city
destined for greatness due to its innate qualities of location, abundance of natural
resources, presence of consistent royal authority and natural protection by the rocky
boundaries of al-Muqattam hills.2 Accordingly, Cairo continuously acted as a magnet for
dynasties aspiring for greatness, leading to a rich intellectual life and prosperous trade
and thus becoming a supreme example of civic success. The fact that it was never
1
This legend does seem to have some element of truth in it.
“Another interesting chap was the chemist Jacques Conte who, during the British blockade [of Cairo] that
was to come, invented the mixture of graphite and clay to replace the lead mineral in pencils. The result
was the misnamed "lead" pencils still in use today.” This apparently is the origin of the myth, so if we do
not owe the invention of the actual pencil to Cairo, we do owe it the invention of the modern pencil. See
http://www.napoleon-series.org/military/battles/c_egypt.html.
2
Ibn Khaldun,, The Muqaddimah, 243-29.
5
destructively conquered or demolished during the Islamic era and its role as a surrogate
capital of the Islamic world following the sack of Baghdad contributed to its dominance.
This “coming together” of forces makes for a good city story. My study merely aims to
tell a small part of this story well.
The defining of this small part is in fact a calculated choice on my part. I have
chosen to follow the previously mentioned Khaldunian model and focus on the era where
Cairo expressed its urban success to the fullest; mainly the urban expression of the
Mamluk period. Furthermore, stemming from the concept that “the life of the state is that
of the city”,3 we should expect to see a sort of distillation in the urban expression of Cairo
to mirror its position as the capital of the Islamic world during most of the Mamluk
period and this naturally qualifies it for our attention. In the discussion to follow I will
attempt to explain not only the conceptual framework for this study but will also shed
light on the rationale that led to the development of my Cairene inquiry.
When studying Mamluk architecture in depth, one cannot help but eventually realize
one of the main implications of many scholars’ views, such as Christel Kessler’s
unwritten rules regarding funerary architecture within the city. It quickly becomes very
clear that Mamluk architecture was highly responsive to urban forces.4 Kessler’s
unwritten rules of Mamluk architecture, generally accepted rules based on basic
observation, point to one ultimate truth; Mamluk architecture consistently exhibited a
kind of extra muros awareness. In other words, it was responding to definite urban forces
that were acting beyond the mere confines of the actual monument. Another important
conclusion from Kessler’s study is the insight it gives into the intent of the Mamluk
3
4
“Khaldun and the Image of the City”, 307.
Kessler, “Funerary Architecture”, 257-267.
6
patrons and what this says about their architectural and urban aims. These observations
were confirmed by my personal visits to al-Qahira and my first hand experience of the
impact of the urban scene upon my senses as a viewer.5 As a result, I believe that a
careful urban analysis of Mamluk Cairo, in light of the patron’s background and intent, is
in order.
1. An Architecture of Urban Forces
I would like to elaborate on the issue of urban awareness in Cairene architecture in
general and specifically, Mamluk architecture. As mentioned earlier, Mamluk
architecture seems to obey laws that were mostly defined by urban considerations such as
street alignment, composition in relation to the street façade as well as other forces such
as qibla orientation. Yet these were not the only manifestations of this “care” which the
Mamluks seemed to approach design within the city. There are many examples of
situations where the needs of pedestrians seem to have been a main generator in
architecture and urban design. Examples of monuments that encourage passers-by to
actually penetrate the building abound. An example would be the mosques of alMihmandar (Fig. 1.1) and al-Maridani (Fig. 1.2)6. In these two cases the architect
incorporated a sort of thoroughfare within the building, allowing pedestrians to move
from main streets to side streets with greater ease. This is an excellent example of how
the architect was actually thinking along urban lines; by incorporating a pedestrian path
though his building he effectively brought “the city into the building” and naturally
integrated his building most effectively “into the city”. In fact, we can go as far as to say
5
One must keep in mind the large cultural gap that lies between the medieval resident and our own
perspective. Despite this fact, the message is still very much alive and can still be sensed by the casual
visitor despite the obvious break with the society that produced it.
6
Khaled Asfour, “Learning from Mamluk Esthetics”, 246-247.
7
that the interior of the monument was effectively exteriorized, by subjecting it to the gaze
of the street public.7
In the latter case of al-Maridani, no clear corridor exists as in al-Mihmandar, but
the presence of the turned wood screen suggests that it was put in place to give privacy to
the prayer hall from the passing of pedestrians through the court.8 An extreme case of this
urban integration is the complex of Qijmas al-Ishaqi (Fig. 1.3). In this case the architect
went through great trouble to create this corridor, for he could not link the two side
streets without passing through the mausoleum. In this case, the corridor was placed
underground, effectively solving the problem. The lengths that these architects went to in
order to integrate their buildings successfully in the urban context speaks of a pervading
urban intent, superseding practicality.
Another example of this urban awareness may be found in the concern that the
Mamluk architect took when designing facades. It must be pointed out that there is a clear
and consistent rule that the amount of decoration is somehow related to the expected level
of exposure. An example of this can again be found in the mosque of Qijmas al-Ishaqi,
where there is a vast difference in the amount of care given to the façade upon the main
street versus that of the side street (Fig. 1.4). Another comparable example would be the
façade of Abu Bakr Muzhir. In this case the façade is actually “pasted on” to the actual
ground plan, creating a window in the facade that opens up against a solid wall in the
interior. Although this can be labeled as façade architecture, I prefer to see it also as a
further manifestation of a pervading pattern of urban awareness.
7
This theory helps explain the presence of the screen of al-Maridani in this particular position. Whether or
not this was the true function of the screen is not certain, but it is possible to link this screen with the screen
at al-Salih Tala’i, which was also erected in the interior in a similar manner. It is possible that both screens
were used to give more privacy to the prayer area, but in the case of al-Tala’i it remains a mystery why
such extra privacy was needed.
8
Ibid.
8
From this discussion we can conclude the following; the architecture of the
Mamluks was far more attuned to urban considerations than it was to the architectural
solutions of the individual monument. Each Mamluk patron in a sense attempted to truly
make a contribution to the street as a whole, and not just to his individual monument.
Additionally, the street rises as a true power or design generator in Mamluk architecture
and a further study of the nature of this street is obviously in order. These “clues” that
hint at the validation of the presence of some kind of unifying philosophy have led me to
conclude that an analytical urban approach may reveal further dimensions to our
understanding of the “why” of Mamluk architecture. This approach will utilize modern
urban analytic terminology, an exercise I believe may prove to be useful in light of the
fact that urban analysts over the years have pinpointed recurring patterns in both modern
and traditional cities and have attempted to interpret the motivation and messages behind
them.9 This interpretative approach may yield answers to deep-seated questions, question
yet to be explored in satisfactory depth, as will be revealed in the literature review to
follow shortly.
But how is one to look for either intent, unifying philosophies or meaning in
architecture, if one were so inclined?10 Various scholars have attempted to relate aspects
of Islamic faith to meaning in Cairene architecture but their views have not succeeded in
gaining general acceptance. This may be due to the fact that their views require leaps of
faith inconsistent with the methodologies of both the scientific and the historical inquiry.
The approach I have chosen gains its momentum from the following rationale; the
9
It is important to note that these modern methods are in fact valid for the interpretation of the medieval
city simply because they deal with absolutes intrinsically linked to human perception, absolutes that have
not changed much over the past 600 years.
10
An elaboration based on some of Stephen Humphrey’s views on expressive intent of Mamluk
architecture.
9
implication of this urban awareness is that the street as a force was highly significant to
whoever was making decisions regarding the monuments. Urban awareness was not born
with the Mamluks, but instead was a practice established by the Fatimids centuries earlier
and is supposedly unique to Cairo. If one is to understand this urban awareness one must
look at this phenomenon from its genesis, define its main players and pass judgment on
how best to go about interpreting it. The former issue is a well-known Cairene story;
mainly that of the alignment of the façade of al-Aqmar mosque. The latter is slightly
more complex, where scholars have argued that the decision makers in royal architecture
for both Fatimid and Mamluk periods may very well have been the rulers themselves11 or
someone close enough to them to know of their wishes. If we are able to tentatively
establish the possibility of the Mamluk Sultan as a decision maker, the following path
makes itself clear. If Mamluk architecture were to possess a message at all it would likely
be one in step with the Sultan’s own wishes and “image”. The obvious target for our
study then is the urban setting where a patron is most likely to express this message;
mainly the scenarios where he is most closely associated with urban expressions. The
candidates for such settings are no other than areas where the Sultan appeared in all his
glory; the sites and paths of royal ceremonial in addition to the royal residence itself as a
symbol of Mamluk dominion. An example from history to highlight this specific point
would be the case of the palace of the Sultan al-Kamil Sha’ban at Birkat al-Fil. The
Sultan made a specific request that the palace overlook the street and not the pond; 12 a
clear case of urban awareness. This also clarifies that urban awareness not only existed in
the streets of Cairo in relation to religious monuments with the baraka connection, but
11
This issue remains a controversial one, but I will attempt to shed further light on whether the Sultan was
a part of the decision making process in the section regarding the patron profile.
12
Rabbat, The Citadel of Cairo, 223.
10
also with monumental secular ones in the suburbs of Cairo, a phenomenon we will see
echoed time and again at the royal residences of the Bahri Mamluks at the Citadel.
A further aspect of this rationale is that patrons were also controllers of financing, as
later analysis will show. When we add to this the firmly established tradition of using
architecture as an image-enhancing tool, a tradition started under the very first dynasties
of Islam and was expressed with great virtuosity,13 we find that the possibility of the use
of urbanism as an image-enhancing tool is more than likely. Furthermore, ceremonial has
been argued convincingly as being the trigger for street alignment at Cairo’s first instance
of it; the façade of al-Aqmar mosque.14
In short, I have chosen an analysis of the impact of ceremonial on the urban
expression of Sultanic Cairo in an attempt to investigate the possibility of meaning in
Mamluk architecture. Naturally, the target of this study is the architectural body, with the
entire scope such a study entails. This body expresses itself in two domains; the Citadel
as a secular expression of Sultanic authority and the two main routes of ceremony within
the city.15
2. The Methodological Approach
Methodologies are traditionally perceived as means to ends, ways to prove or
disprove a hypothesis and thus entities that cannot exist in their own right.16 Though true
most of the time, I perceive them as being much more than a modus operandi. This is
13
The Umayyads and their image enhancing palaces and mosques are what is meant in this case. Articles
such as Robert Hillendbrand’s work on Mshatta and its political implications show a consistent awareness
in the Islamic world towards such architectural expressions.
14
Abouseif, “The Facade of the Aqmar Mosque”, 29-30.
15
These routes form a closed circuit; starting at the citadel and leading down through al-Qahira, out through
the northern gates of Cairo, back through the Northern cemetery and up again to the Citadel.
16
King, “Problems of Methodology”, 345.
11
especially true in the historical discourse, where a hypothesis can ultimately be disproved
with time as historical or archeological data become available. This does not necessarily
make these findings null or void but the nature of methodology renders it far more
responsive to changes and accordingly has a tendency to adapt itself to new input, thus
my personal interest in methodological development. More importantly, I view
methodology in the historical discourse to be an interesting variable to experiment with
since all the other variables in this equation, mainly historical and archaeological data on
Cairo are not likely to be altered by any will of my own.
The fundamental basis of this thesis is that Mamluk architecture within the city
exhibited a unified expression of urban awareness and that the street acted as a potent
force upon this awareness. This led me to explore the connection between the street and
the decision maker and thus ceremonial was brought to the foreground as one of the most
powerful conceptual connections. A further aspect to be explored is whether this
awareness had a coherent aim and whether an “agenda” for its implementation existed
and manifested itself consistently. Our search for dimensions of this awareness leads us
to an examination of the will of decision makers in Mamluk architecture and this spurs
the search for an appropriate methodology for such a task.
Accordingly, our task has more to do with the following interaction; mainly the
patron-product dynamic. If this dynamic is ever to be translated it should be done so in
part in its original tongue; accordingly the rationale of the urban theorists may be an
appropriate tool to bring to the table.
Design can be defined as a conscious act of creation, where the product is tailored to
suit a wide spectrum of need. The level of design complexity is obviously in direct
12
relation to the complexity of not only the final product, but also the design system itself.
The elusive nature of design has rendered this field a virtual terra incognito even today;
modern theorists fail to understand exactly how the design process functions, what it
entails or how to replicate it consistently. Yet an understanding of how the process
worked seems to be necessary if one is to speak with any confidence about a “design
agenda”; the springing board for any scheme. And how is one to speak of an agenda that
may or may not have existed, hundreds of years after the society that generated it has
disappeared? Is it possible to work backwards from the buildings themselves and produce
with any validity a deeper understanding of the intent behind these buildings? More
importantly, can we attempt to understand why they seem to project a collective
message? Is it merely a question of general taste, ‘urf or tradition? Should we simply
accept that the Cairene Mamluk urban expression happened by chance since we have no
proof otherwise? The rare studies that have addressed this phenomenon in the Islamic
world have all proven to be inconclusive.17 There exists no treatise, document or scrap of
evidence to date that proves any kind of design methodology, anywhere in the Islamic
world.18
The scholarly lineage of such studies is poor indeed, and for some very good
reasons.19 The most important is the lack of “physical evidence” but more importantly it
may be related to the very nature of the historical urban discourse; a question of who is
asking the question, what are the questions and why they are being asked. The obvious
answer to these questions is that historians are asking them and that their ultimate aim is
17
See Abouseif, “Muhandis, Shad, Mu'allim ”, 293-309.
See Necipoglu, The Topkapi Scroll; Issues of design intent are addressed here at some lengths regarding
the rise and spread of geometric designs in Islam.
19
Grabar judges traditional historical tools as being valid for understanding the past but that they are
limited when it comes to learning lessons regarding the contemporary world. See Grabar, “History in
Cairo”, 5.
18
13
the search for verifiable fact. In other words, it is a search for the truth and nothing but
the truth, but not necessarily the whole truth.
This undoubtedly is far better than combining truth with half-truth, or even falsehood,
in pursuit of the whole story. Yet what does make itself clear is the very limitation of the
historical method in regards to the interpretation of meaning. In light of this, would it not
be valid to attempt to expand the tools of the historian, using the self same criteria of
logic and reason in our selection of these tools? It is from these basic questions that my
methodology attempts to flow; the introduction of interdisciplinary tools to the historical
discourse to possibly enrich both in turn.20 These tools are those related to the very nature
of urban perception; history can tell us when, how and for whom the urban scene existed
but what we hope will be answered in part is why it manifested itself that way.
So let us attempt to display the various streams that feed into our system, in attempt
to find new tools to answer old questions. We spoke of the patron-product dynamic as
being at the root of our inquiry so naturally a careful reconstruction of the mentality of
the patron in regards to urbanism needs to be done alongside our analysis of the physical
urban scene and other forces acting upon it. Since ceremonial has been targeted as the
arena in which patron-product seem to have interacted most fully within the city, a
detailed study of the development of ceremonial and its relation to urbanism is also in
order. In short, the task seems to present itself clearly; my main methodological aim at
this point is to simulate the events that led to the creation of the Cairene urban image. In
this light, the urban design theories and historical facts serve as both raw material and as
tools to “set the scene”. Once it is set, it can be critically analyzed but in order for the
20
This quote from Grabar’s “History in Cairo” was fundamental in the formulating of this line of
questioning,
“Beyond the existence of resources and of a patronage, there was in Cairo, especially in Mamluk times, a
cultural self-assuredness and an unquestioning agreement on which forms are needed and why”.
14
interpretation of this scene to be accurate, the methods by which it is recreated must also
be sound.
Accordingly, finding criteria for the setting of the scene, finding the right tools,
deciding upon the best way to use them and then using them with great caution and much
reflection seems to be the due course. In other words, accurate simulation and
conservative interpretation will be the general attitude of this study.
Accordingly, the first section of this study will deal with the early stage of the
ceremonial-urban dynamic, from the Tulunid through the Ayyubid period, with special
emphasis on the Fatimid period due to the fact that our phenomenon exhibits itself most
clearly during this period. It will also include a brief look at the ceremonial practices and
paths of these dynasties. The second section will deal with our reconstruction of the
patron profiles within their socio-cultural and religio-political contexts, using attitudes to
ceremonial as our guide. A detailed account of Mamluk ceremonial in general will be
covered21 but investiture ceremonies and post-war parades in particular will be analyzed,
as these are directly linked to the status of the patrons and thus have direct bearing upon
the royal image.
At the outset such a task seems vast, but with attitudes to urbanism and ceremony as
our guide it should not be difficult to create general schemes for various periods within
the Mamluk period. In short, attitudes to the royal image as manifested in ceremony and
urbanism will define our historical framework. This entire process will rely mainly on
historical analysis, aided in part by reconstructed computer model.22 The overlay of these
21
This will be done in order to reconstruct an accurate picture of patron intent, it often happened that one
ceremony took precedence over other seemingly important ceremonies and these anomalies are crucial for
the accuracy of this study.
22
CGI, or Computer Generated Imaging, has been used extensively in the fields of Western archaeology.
There has been only one attempt to use computer models in the interpretation of Islamic architecture. For
an earlier model of Cairo, not used in the this study, see www.sims.berkeley.edu/~ame/new-
15
tools should hopefully lend a new perspective on how the city could have been intended
to be perceived by the patrons who saw it as an extension of their image.
3. A Review of the Literature
The classification of the relevant sources for the scope of this study falls into three
distinct groups. The first group explores the potential of the interpretive approach leading
to a better understanding of Cairene urbanism. Scholars such as Oleg Grabar in his brief
study of the meaning of history in Cairo and his call for revised methodologies,23
Jonathon Bloom in his article on the mosque of al-Hakim, Howayda al-Harithy in her
study of patron intent at the complex of Sultan Hasan, Irene Bierman’s re-interpretation
of the possible religio-political meanings of Fatimid inscriptions24 and Paula Sanders in
her re-examination of the relation between Fatimid ritual and urbanism25 all introduce a
variety of conceptual models for reinterpreting the forces behind the Cairene urban
language. The two latter sources of this group deal specifically with the phenomenon of
ceremonial and urbanism during the Fatimid period. Additionally the studies by both
Caroline Williams 26 and Doris Behrens-Abouseif 27 on the façade of al-Aqmar mosque
also argue for the presence of an urban language in their interpretation of the façade of
this enigmatic mosque. Within their studies, they accurately link aspects of ceremonial
uploads/cairo.pdf. For a comprehensive list of similar models in Western architecture see
http://csanet.org/inftech/cadgd/cadgdfour.html
23
Idem, “The Meaning of History in Cairo”, The Expanding Metropolis: Coping with the Urban Growth of
Cairo, The Aga Khan Award for Architecture 1985, 1-18.
24
Irene Bierman, Writing Signs: The Fatimid Public Text, (Berkeley, 1998).
25
Paula Sanders, Ritual, Politics and the City in Fatimid Cairo (State Univ. of New York Press, 1994) and
Idem, “From Court Ceremony to Urban Language: Ceremonial in Fatimid Cairo and Fustat”, The Islamic
World from Classical to Modern Times: Essays in Honor of Bernard Lewis, ed. C. E. Bosworth, C. Issawi,
R. Savory, & A. L. Udovitch (Princeton: Darwin Press, 1989,rp.1991), 311-321.
26
Caroline Williams, “Caroline Williams, “The Cult of the Alid Saints in the Fatimid Monuments of Cairo:
Part One: The Mosque of al-Aqmar”, Muqarnas 1 (1983), 37-54.
27
Doris Behrens-Abouseif, “The Facade of al-Aqmar Mosque”, 29-38.
16
with elements of the façade and both argue convincingly for the existence of the
ceremonial-urban dynamic. These studies, among others such as an unpublished M.A
thesis by Jehan Reda, 28 discuss the socio-political and religious reasons for the use of
these architectural-urban elements within the Fatimid ceremonial context. Despite the
evidence supplied by their studies, the field of scholarly interest has not attempted to
track this phenomenon beyond the Fatimids with any seriousness, despite the presence of
lavish ceremonial during the Bahri period and despite the sophistication of Mamluk
secular expressions. This is probably due to the fact that the entire royal secular
expression of the Mamluks has disappeared; and it is here that the need for new methods
of reconstruction becomes a necessity.
The few studies that do approach the concept of an urban language and its possible
meanings during the Mamluk period include the work of Khaled Asfour in his article on
Mamluk esthetics,29 and Stephen Humphreys in his article, “The Expressive Intent of
Mamluk Architecture”.30 Both studies acknowledge the presence of a consistent pattern
of expression, one motivated by a variety of forces; yet they are not explicit as to the
workings of these forces but suggest a possible framework of thought which I have found
to be most useful in my own approach to this study. Another example of a study that has
attempted a reinterpretation of Cairo through the use of computer model is that conducted
by Nezar al-Sayyad and a group of his students.31 The results of this study were
inconclusive, partially to the lack of concrete historical sources and partially due to its
28
Jehan Ismail Reda, The Manzara: its Form and Function in Fatimid Egypt, M.A. Thesis (American
University in Cairo, 1998).
29
Khaled Asfour, "Learning from Mamluk Architectural Esthetics", The Cairo Heritage: Essays in Honor
of Laila Ali Ibrahim, ed. by Doris Behrens-Abouseif (Cairo and New York, 2000), 235-262.
30
R.S Humphreys, “The Expressive Intent of the Mamluk Architecture of Cairo: A Preliminary Essay”,
Studia Islamica 35 (1972), 69-119.
31
See www.sims.berkeley.edu/~ame/new-uploads/cairo.pdf. For other examples of CGI
reconstructions of historic sites in general, see http://csanet.org/inftech/cadgd/cadgdfour.html
17
wide focus. I hope I have been able to avoid this pitfall by performing a sweep of
resources prior to my attempt of reconstruction and by tailoring the study and its focus to
suit both the resources and the limits of my hypothesis.
The next groups of studies dealt mainly with the conceptual background for this
study, the political and socio-cultural as well as the ceremonial, forces which aided in the
development of the patron profile. These works include Nasser Rabbat’s study of the
ideological significance and iconography of the Dar al-‘Adls of Islam, Karl Stowasser
and his study of customs and courtly ritual at the Mamluk court and Qassem Abdou
Qassem’s analytical socio-political study of Mamluk power dynamics with special
emphasis on their manifestations within the city.32
The seminal study on the development of secular architecture of the Mamluks is
Nasser Rabbat’s work on the Citadel of Cairo.33 In this study he reexamines established
facts regarding the reconstruction of the palaces of the Mamluks and suggests alternate
locations for a number of Mamluk structures at the Southern enclosure. His study also
links socio-cultural and religio-political aspects of the reigns of Bahri patrons of the
ceremonial architecture but any further analysis of an actual language obviously lies out
of the aims of his historical reinterpretation. This study, coupled with his aforementioned
study of the ideological aspects of the Dar al-‘Adl as a building type and the concept of
the Mamluk throne hall,34 create a comprehensive look at the forces acting upon the
32
Nasser Rabbat, “Ideological Significance of Dar al-Adl”, International Journal of Middle Eastern
Studies 27 (1995), 3-28.
Karl Stowasser, “Manners and Customs of the Mamluk Court”, Muqarnas 2 (1984), 13-20. Qassem Abdou
Qassem, ‘Asr al-Salatin al Mamalik ( El Sherouk, 1994).
33
Nasser Rabbat, The Citadel of Cairo: A new Interpretation of Royal Mamluk Architecture (New York,
1995).
34
Nasser Rabbat, “Mamluk Throne Halls: Qubba or Iwan?”, Ars Orientalis 23 (1993), 201-218.
Idem, “Ideological Significance of Dar al-Adl”, International Journal of Middle Eastern Studies 27 (1995),
3-28.
18
southern enclosure and present an excellent research basis for further analysis. The
variety of primary sources reviewed in this study include al-Maqrizi’s Khitat and Suluk,
Ibn Iyas’ Chronicles, al-Zahiri’s Zubda and al-Umari’s Masalik. These works obviously
provide the basic ground for any reconstruction and a review of modern scholars’
interpretations of them have allowed for further insight into the study. Complimentary
studies include the work of Doris Behrens-Abouseif and Yasser Tabaa on the relation of
ceremonial and Sultanic power.35 The former study in particular is unique in its
designation of ceremonial as a major force behind the morphology and general
configuration of the Southern enclosure under the Mamluks. It also presented an
excellent scholarly base for my research, but again stopped short of creating conceptual
links throughout the period. A final group of studies which explore the concepts of
monumentality, ceremony and politics include the works of Bernard O’Kane, Jonathon
Bloom and Oleg Grabar.36 The two former studies explore monumental symbolic
architecture as a concept and application within medieval architecture while the latter
study by Grabar, forges links between architecture and ceremonial during the Umayyad
period. These studies allowed for the creation of conceptual links between the actual
reconstruction, the overlaying of the profile and the final hypothesis on the design agenda
and its workings.
A final study that attempts to track the ceremonial-urban phenomenon is that of
Muhammad Husam al-Din Abd al-Fattah in his study of the relation between the
35
Idem, “The Citadel of Cairo: Stage for Mamluk Ceremonial”, Annales Islamologiques 24 (1988), 25-79.
Jonathon Bloom, "Qubbat al-Khadra and the Concept of Height in Islamic Architecture", Ars Orientalis 23
(1993), 135-141. Yasser Tabaa, “Circles of Power: Palaces, Citadel, and City in Ayyubid Aleppo”, Ars
Orientalis 23 (1993), 182-200.
36
Jonathon Bloom, "Qubbat al-Khadra and the Concept of Height in Islamic Architecture", Ars Orientalis
23 (1993), 135-141. Oleg Grabar, Ceremonial and Art at the Umayyad Court, Thesis (PhD), Princeton
University, 1955. Bernard O’Kane, Monumentality in Mamluk and Mongol Art and Architecture”, Art
History, vol.19-4 (1996), 499-522.
19
placement of buildings and the passage of processions.37 His observations are interesting
but do not add much to the established scholarly views of design within the city,
established by both Crystal Kessler and Laila Ali Ibrahim in their respective studies.38
Other general studies deal in general with the urban development of Cairo as a main
theme and also include valuable information on both the socio-political background as
well as the concepts of the Islamic city in regards to urban imagery and general urban
theory. These include the works of Andre Raymond in his study of Cairo39 as well as
Hani Hamza and Doris Behrens-Abouseif’s study of the Northeastern Cemetery.40
At this point it is becoming clear that the city of Cairo had a wider urban message
to convey and that this message was born of the will of its patrons. The homogenous
response to urban forces found in Cairene architecture during the Mamluk period speaks
of an urban image that was consistently expressed in a variety of forms throughout the
period. I will argue in the following chapter that the nature, cause and manifestations of
this image can all be explained through a careful analytical look at the socio-political and
cultural environment of the age and the ceremonial-urban connections throughout the
history of Cairo. Furthermore, ceremonial paths and nodes were designated as the focus
of the study, where an understanding of the circumstances in which the royal urban image
was judged naturally entails a simulation of the exact workings of the scenario in which
image-enhancing urban schemes were “judged” by their patrons. In short, this chapter
37
Muhammad Husam al-Din Isma`il Abd al-Fattah, “Ba`d al-Mulahazāt `alá al-`Alaqah bayna Murūr alMawākib wa-Wad` al-Mabāni al-Athariyya fi al-Shawari`", Annales
islamologiques/Hawliyat Islamiyah 25 (1990), 1-10.
38
C. Kessler, “Funerary Architecture within the City”, Colloque international sur l’histoire du Caire
(Cairo, 1972), 257-267.
39
André Raymond, Cairo: City of History (Cairo, 2000).
Doris Behrens Abouseif, "The North-Eastern Extension of Cairo under the Mamluks", Annales
islamologiques 17 (1981), 157-189.
Hani Hamza, The Northeastern Cemetery of Cairo (Cairo, 2000).
40
20
will deal with the actual reconstruction; a tracking of the royal imagery-ceremonial
dynamic and its impact on urbanism throughout Cairene pre-Mamluk history which will
lead up to the actual reconstruction. As mentioned previously, our reconstruction will be
done through a generally categorized patron profile for the Mamluk period41 coupled with
an analysis of the Sultanic ceremonial vs. urban expression dynamic for the early Bahri
Mamluk period. What will follow is an elaboration on the conceptual background of our
reconstruction, mainly patron profiling and its use as a historical analysis tool through a
look at what is known in Western historiography as the “History of Mentalities”. This
will be followed by a brief outline of the methods of reconstruction in addition to a
critical look at the sources available to us for this reconstruction.
4. Conceptual Considerations
“Exposure to the past unsettles the sense of the knowable. One is always running up
against mysteries, not simply ignorance (a familiar phenomenon) but the unfathomable
strangeness of life among the dead. We have talked to the dead, but we find it hard to
make ourselves heard among the living.”42
This act of attempting to “talk to the dead” seems to be the main tenet behind the
work of mentalité scholars Richard Cobb and Lucien Lefebvre. It is my belief that their
search for historical truth beyond hard facts such as statistics, economic or social systems
and into the realm of the “lost mental world” 43 may put us on a promising path towards
creating a profile of the Mamluk Sultanate. Their belief that the emphasis should be
41
I have chosen to draw general lines throughout the period and have been able to classify the entire period
into groupings of general attitudes towards ceremonial and urbanism. This will be elaborated upon in the
patron profile.
42
Robert Darnton, The Kiss of Lamourette, xiv.
43
Ibid., 253-254.
21
placed on the common man’s outlook rather than the actual events44 may be inverted in
our case to include a study of the Mamluk royal persona.
Darnton, on the other hand, sees the main problem lying in the fact that it is difficult to
“move beyond evocation by anecdote.” 45 He sees that one ought to “seize on at least one
firm discipline in the social sciences and use it to relate mental experience to social and
economic reality”.46 It is my belief that a combination of both approaches, the “generic”
of Cobb and Lefebvre coupled with the specific of Darnton may be the answer to our
elusive problem of creating a mental profile of deceased Sultans.
Kevin Lynch, one of the forerunners of the interpretive urbanism, attempted to
isolate the specific urban phenomenon which made up the image of cities. He defined this
group of phenomena that tend to occur in “vivid and integrated” urban settings, and work
together to create the collective urban image. 47 Mamluk Cairo is certainly such a case,
and by subjecting Cairo to an “image analysis”, a certain pattern begins to emerge based
on these concepts. According to Lynch, a healthy city should be able to actively support a
group image,48 defined as being an urban visual scenario that is capable of clearly
projecting an intended message, varying in content from one situation to another.
An example of the existence of such an image, without going into much detail, can be
seen clearly in the subtle transformation of the urban scene from the Bahri to the Burji
period. 49 One only has to think of the vast visual differences between the madrasa of
Sultan Hasan (Fig. 2.1) and the complex of al-Sultan al-Ghuri (Fig. 2.2) to fathom the
impact that patron intent can have on urban settings. This message was apparently so
44
Ibid., 261.
Ibid., 264.
46
Ibid., 290.
47
Lynch, The Image of the City, 2-4.
48
Ibid., loc. cit.
49
Abouseif, “The Citadel of Cairo”, 69.
45
22
strong that the Ottoman Sultan Selim I upon viewing these monuments commented that
the former was a magnificent fortress (hişār) fitting a sultan while the latter he perceived
as the qa’a of a merchant (qā’at tājir), lacking in “majesty”.50 This comment clarifies to a
large extent the power that these subtle shifts in façade treatment, street alignment and
the treatment of proportion can have upon the viewer and how much they can reveal
about the patron. What is even more significant is these urban expressions were clear
enough to the contemporary observer, albeit a Sultan. This in itself is not surprising yet it
emphasizes the fact that royal urban imagery was possibly decipherable by the
contemporary observer.
5. The Reconstruction: Ceremonial, Urbanism and the Sultanic Image
“To visit the dead, the historian needs something more than methodology, something like
a leap of faith or a suspension of disbelief”51
As alluring as the above statement sounds, leaps of faith do not go down so well with
the vast majority of scholars. Lack of information is a phenomenon that plagues
historians from all walks of life and has given rise to the approaches previously
mentioned which have attempted to develop “new methodologies” to deal with “old
data”. In this light, our reconstruction does function as a hybrid methodology; combining
historiographical methods with those from the field of urban theory, creating a scene that
is as historically and “urbanistically” accurate as possible.
Our reconstruction rests on the concept of patron intent and perspective. In this sense
the term perspective holds two meanings, a metaphorical perspective dealing with their
50
51
Rabbat,Citadel , 220.
Robert Darnton, The Kiss of Lamourette, xxi.
23
socio-cultural and political background, their aims, agendas and their visual memory,
alongside an actual perspective, which will discuss how the patrons themselves
experienced the city. As previously mentioned, this will be done by focusing on the areas
that would naturally receive most attention, mainly the ceremonial path and the royal
residence, in other words, the two places which are most reflective of their image and
would accordingly be most expressive of their intent.
At this point it is important to take a critical look at the kind of sources we have
available to us. They fall roughly into two groups, the former being contemporaneous
with the subject matter and the occurring before the modernization of Cairo, both groups
being graphic and literary in nature. In the former group I include general treatises such
as those of al-Maqrizi and Ibn Iyas as well as foreign traveler accounts such as those of
Ibn Battuta and Ibn Sa’id as well as records kept by foreign embassies.52 In the case of
traveler accounts there are considerations to be kept in mind for many reasons. Their
accounts, not unlike those of contemporary historians of the court, tend towards the
reflection of personal inclinations such as piety, religious conservatism or interests in
particular phenomenon and had the additional tendency of acting much like a tourist
camera would; capturing the exotic and unusual and describing it thus.53 The danger lies
here in the fact that these phenomena are relayed as rare or unique but in actual fact could
be rather mundane details of Cairene life. In short, we have no control over what we want
to find; we merely search for hints in accounts of a traveler’s personal interest. This
makes the task arduous and forces reliance on an ever widening scope of sources.
52
53
Abdo Qassem, Age of the Mamluk Sultans, 29.
Ibid., loc. cit.
24
In the case of the foreign embassies the situation is more promising; we do get a
vividly accurate picture of the Sultanic image since these individuals were the target for
his pomp and splendor, where foreign travelers lend us a much more general impression
of society at large. In the case of Mamluk historians, we have a rich resource for our
reconstruction but again face a similar problem. They combine the virtues of both
Muslim traveler and foreign embassies due to their proximity to court life but also reflect
their own prejudices and political agendas. The last group in this category includes
contemporaneous “cartographers” or sketch artists. Our problem here lies mainly in
modes of representation for we are not lucky enough to have even nearly accurate images
till the 17th and 18th centuries. These images are generally useful for urban impressions,54
which in our case are vital, and not necessarily for pinpoint accuracy. Nonetheless, the
fact that our targeted urban image remained nearly intact till the arrival of the
Déscription and other sketch artists with an eye for accurate detailing is fortunate indeed.
The non-contemporaneous group poses even more problems for obvious reasons.
These records include both literary and graphic material and both fall victim to the age
old practice of copying incorrectly or with variable terminology from older sources,
which confuses the situation further. Just as Muslim travelers to Cairo were influenced by
their own backgrounds, so are the European sketch artists with their interest in mainly
pre-Islamic urban sites such as the pyramids and Christian pilgrimage sites. In fact, most
of these drawings were done for exactly that purpose; as guide books for Christian
pilgrims.55 Naturally, the aim of these artists was not to project any specific information
other than that needed by their readers. Nevertheless, these drawings seen together do
54
55
Nicholas Warner, Historic Monuments of Cairo, 4.
Nicholas Warner, Historic Monuments of Cairo, 2.
25
paint a legible picture of an urban image that has all but vanished in the modern era. It is
the aim of this study to bring this image back to life in order to better understand it, using
all the tools, sources and methodologies listed above.
6. Pre-Mamluk Cairo
It is becoming clear at this point that an interdisciplinary approach could possibly
push the frontier of Cairene urban questioning beyond its present limits through a merger
of conventional historical tools and urban analytical tools. I have also argued that by
using ceremonial as a vehicle for interpreting urban intent we may possibly place
ourselves in a position to approximate how the patrons, the actual decision makers or
“clients”, may have experienced the city.56 This will ultimately lead to an “educated
guess” on the presence or absence of an urban language and attempt to determine its
nature, be it popular, Sultanic or a combination of both.
In order to attempt such a task a relatively wide sweep of information must be
explored in order to track a phenomenon that on the outset, appears to be both
inconsistent and non-linear in nature. Naturally, the use of hybrid methodologies also
calls for the use of an appropriate classification to facilitate the application of information
from one field into another. Accordingly, I shall organize this large amount of historical
data into fields that are essentially urban within a chronological framework in order to
track the development of urban phenomena in relation to ceremonial development. This
will result in an exploration of the evolution of the ceremonial-urban dynamic in relation
to the Sultanic image prior to the Mamluk period in order to evoke a sense of how Cairo
56
By being in such a position we are able to apply some basic concepts developed by urban theorists to
explain, in cognitive terms, the timeless urban experience.
26
had previously been utilized by royalty for ceremonial purposes. This will lead to a more
detailed display of the ceremonial-urban dynamic during the Mamluk period.
7. Final Considerations
I began this study with a story about a team of scholars running out of ink before they
ran out of words to describe Cairo. They probably would still be writing today had they
not been shipped back to France in haste. This seems to be part of the nature of the
documentative approach, yet the age of describing Cairo seems to be drawing to a close.
Scholars such as Grabar and Bloom call for the excavating of these descriptions in an
attempt to reach truths that further description can no longer yield. The rise of a trend of
interpretive pieces scattered across the scholarly field all begs to be collectively
addressed.
I would like to end this section by discussing some inherent problems in this study.
The presence of a “gap” in the scholarly field is apparent at this point. Despite the fact
that we do not have a complete reconstruction of Cairo during the different periods, we
do have a fairly complete picture of the main aspects of the Mamluk secular architectural
and ceremonial expressions, as previously explained. Throughout this study I will be
using the presence of ceremonial as a guide, and since the Bahri period saw the
movement of ceremony towards the Citadel, I have found the sources to be more than
adequate in this regard. I have attempted to keep the analysis linked to Cairo when
relevant but have focused the study primarily on the area of the Citadel and its
surroundings. As a result, I have been able to plot the development and movement of
ceremony in and around the city and the Citadel from the Tulunid to the end of the Burji
27
period, in addition to exploring the evolution of the structures designed to accommodate
ceremonial during the Mamluk period. As a result, I have been able to isolate the
ceremonial, architectural and urban language that has expressed itself throughout Cairo’s
history and have taken a comprehensive look at how and why these elements were
appropriated, reinterpreted, reintegrated and re-assimilated into the Mamluk architectural
expression. In addition to this, I have also explored aspects of the design agenda that
regulated the entire process. Finally, I have proposed my own hypothesis regarding the
mechanisms of this agenda within the political, social, religious and economic paradigm
of the Mamluks keeping in mind when possible the forces at play from the Islamic umma
at large.
28
Chapter Two
The Fatimid Ceremonial-Urban Dynamic
The concept of ceremonial in Islam, according to Ibn Khaldun in his Muqaddima,
describes the trappings of royalty as having a direct impact upon the city in terms of
economy and appearance57 He describes this urban sophistication as being the result of
the needs of royalty to surround themselves with power insignia; from furnishings to
monuments. We see this reflected very clearly on the face of Cairo during its long role as
the center of a variety of empires and this chapter will explore this aspect of Khaldunian
philosophy that deals with the impact of royalty upon the face of the city and the role it
plays in civilization in general and urbanism in particular.
Ceremonial, as a symptom of resident royal authority, could not have existed while
Cairo was a vassal state within the Islamic world. Rarely do we find ceremonial
expression in such cities and Cairo was no exception. During the reign of the Rightly
Guided Caliphs such ostentation was generally frowned upon and we see little or no
ceremonial or courtly expression during this period. This is also true under the Umayyads
where Fustat, as a secondary city, saw little royal patronage. This changed with the
arrival of the Abbasid era, with the ceremony of the inauguration of the Nilometer at
Roda Island involving decorated floats paraded down the Khalij and into the Nile for this
57
Ibn Khaldun, al-Muqaddima,237.
29
festive occasion. It is interesting to note that this ceremony linked popular tradition
(paying tribute to the Nile), urban involvement (canal procession aboard floats) and royal
might together in this ceremonial expression, a most fitting introduction for Islamic preFatimid ceremonial into the lands of the Pharaohs. This event also falls in line with
Egypt’s rise in importance during this period and with Abbasid attempts to spread their
spiritual and political dominion over key cities of the Islamic world. Although the driving
force behind the construction of the Nilometer was control of tax revenue through Nile
flood measurements, the pomp that went with the inaugural ceremony can only be seen as
insignia of control and propaganda. Furthermore, the Abbasid Caliphate had not only
political clout but also spiritual dominion with claims of descent from the Prophet’s
(pbuh) clan, making this a riveting event for the general population and surely an
important aim of this ceremony. This was not the last time the power of the Abbasid
sultans would play a role in Cairene politics and ceremonial and urbanism.
The end of the 9th c. saw the arrival of Ahmad b. Tulun with his dynastic aspirations,
aspirations that would place Cairo on the map as the center of a young, renegade empire.
Along with politically severing Egypt from Abbasid control by having the khutba said in
his own name, Ibn Tulun undertook a major urban overhaul that involved the integration
of his new city, al-Qata’i, into the existing fabric (Fig. 2.3). Ceremony was to feature
largely within this urban group with its palatial, military as well as religious features.58
The construction of the congregational mosque coupled with the Dar al-Imara was the
urban expression for the dawn of a new regime free of Abbasid dominion, yet ironically
modeled on a combination of the Abbasid mosque at Samarra and the presumed mosquepalace complex at Baghdad. Fustat and ‘Askar, with their lack of potential as a royal seat
58
Raymond, Cairo, 26.
30
due to the absence of space for parade grounds, etc., were also symbolic of the Abbasid
regime. It is not surprising to see an interest in urban development coupled with a rise in
ceremonial function with the arrival of a new ruler. This is a pattern that would manifest
itself within Cairo many times, with the location of the seat of royal authority acting as an
active urban generator in some shape or form.
The conquest of Egypt by the Fatimids in the 10th c. was to herald in an age of
transformation affecting all walks of Egyptian life, with urbanism, ceremonial and royal
pomp undergoing major development. As political ruler and semi-divine leader of the
faith in his role as Imam, the entity of the Caliph dictated a type of urban arrangement
that had begun in North Africa and which would reach its climax in his new city of alQahira. The aspects of the Fatimid Caliphate, not unlike its Abbasid counterpart, created
an epicenter of attraction for al-Qahira that would eventually shape itself into one of the
most sophisticated examples of ceremonial-urban collusion,59 with building elements and
street patterns modeling themselves to suit this unique socio-political arrangement. This
is a feature that would stay with Cairo for centuries to come, manifesting itself in a
variety of forms throughout its history. This study will attempt to explore the impact that
this memory of urban accommodation had upon the Cairene design agenda.
Although the Cairo of today welcomes all, this was not always the case. As a palatial
city enclosed within high walls intended to keep the general population out, it displayed
all typical features of the centrally planned royal complex. The center of the city included
the palaces of the Caliph along the qaşaba with al-Azhar slightly off axis to the south.
These nodes developed to include the shrine of al-Husayn, creating a sort of triangular
59
It is also important for its survival to a certain extent in an intact state. Cities such as Abbasid Baghdad,
which probably exhibited similar occurrences, have unfortunately been lost to us.
31
arrangement within the city and naturally became the heart of religious and political life
(Fig 2.4). We shall see how this combination of extreme wealth, complex liturgical
procedure and coalescence of political and religious authority would create a deep-seated
ceremonial-urban dynamic that would outlive the Fatimid Caliphs themselves for
centuries and be remembered in Cairene architecture for centuries.
Al-Aziz would also expand this hub to include his new congregational mosque, which
became the mosque of al-Hakim under his son, adding detailed features to Fatimid
ceremony that reveal the vital role it played in political and religious life. His eccentric
son would continue this development only to have it cut short by a period of decline,
which saw economic recession, and a loss of Caliphal power. Accordingly, we see a
decline in both ceremony and urban development which can be explained by the loss of
desire on the parts of the viziers to encourage a scenario that had been reserved in the
people’s mind for their Caliph; a pattern we see consistently throughout the Fatimid
period.
Ironically it was a vizier, Ma’mun al-Bata’hi, who would revitalize ceremonial by
promoting it unceasingly as part of his master plan to reinstate the power of the Caliph alAmir. This was the high point for Cairene ceremonial and presents us with some of the
most fascinating examples of urban adaptation to ceremony.
Under the Fatimids, ceremony acted as a window unto the people, this window being
controlled in an urban fashion through the use of a variety of elements that rose to fulfill
this need. We see a harmonious blend of elements involving manzaras overlooking
sahas, shubbaks topping high palace walls, gates evocative of the triumphal arches of old
and facades that have been interpreted by many as being redolent with image-enhancing
32
meaning. These elements worked together to create a highly successful stage set with the
caliph as lead character and the vizier as director and producer.
Al-Qahira’s urban-ceremonial dynamic can be explained through its aşabiyya, the
phenomenon that Ibn Khaldun singled out as the feature of civilization that gives cities
their unique characters. In this case, one of the dominant features of the Fatimid aşabiyya
of the city revolved around the entity of the Caliph himself, his need to be both physically
isolated and prominently present in the psyche of the people of Cairo. Since the
ceremonial-urban dynamic is the manifestation of this controlled interaction, we would
expect to see sophisticated and articulate expressions of this dynamic. This entails a study
of the various periods which exhibited this phenomenon in an attempt to reveal the
existence of a consistent pattern.
The ceremonial paths and nodes have already been designated as the focus of the
study, where an understanding of the circumstances in which the royal urban image was
judged naturally entails a simulation of the exact workings of the scenario in which image
enhancing urban schemes were “judged” by their patrons. As a result of the use of an
urban classification, I have categorized the data into the following main groups;
Ceremonial and the Sultanic Image and Ceremonial-Urban Manifestations. The first
category will deal with the general historical aspects of the ceremony for that specific
period in light of the socio-political environment. The second category will deal with the
ceremony in the city and explore the development of the spaces and routes along the
ceremonial path. I will also explore how this movement related to the royal nodes and
public paths of the city. I have chosen to focus my analysis mainly on the periods that
exhibit strong features of the urban-ceremonial dynamic, for obvious reasons. This will
33
entail a study of the Fatimid, late Ayyubid and entire Mamluk period with special
emphasis on the Bahri period.
1. Ceremonial and the Fatimid Urban Image
The very nature of Shi’i doctrine dictates an elaborate ceremonial scenario due to the
basic tenet of the faith; the belief that the Imam, a mortal man, was in fact a semi-divine
entity. Shi’i liturgy carefully controlled the exposure of the Caliph through the use of
various “props” within the courtly context. These props included mystery-evoking
curtained daises, oversized crowns and robes to evoke majesty in addition to strict
protocol regarding who could speak to or even hear the Caliph. The following section
will explore how this scenario was acted out and translated into an urban scene; out of the
royal audience halls the props became essentially urban and had an even greater impact
due to the larger than life context within which they appeared (large scale architectural)
and due to the higher level of exposure to the general public. This is in addition to the
fact that these appearances involved religious occasions where the Caliph was
represented in both his role as commander of the army and as leader of the faithful and
eventually the quintessential “urban” benefactor in his role as provider for the poor and
hungry. In this role, the distribution of baraka was the essential aim; the consuming of
blessed food, robes and other bounties would become a vital link between the secluded
Caliph and his people. 60
60
Paula Sanders, Ritual, Politics and the City, 29.
34
Each of the religious events associated with ceremonial generally had an esoteric
“value”; for example, the fasting of Ramadan was symbolic of al-kitmān wa’l-satr and
the Friday prayer itself represented the da’wa of the Prophet (pbuh).61 In this way
ceremony went far beyond mere propaganda for the Caliph and become an urban
expression of courtly Shi’i liturgy, otherwise confined to the palace. The importance of
these processions can be felt in the fact that detailed announcements would be made to
the provinces, informing them of these processions. In this we can see them as being
deep-seated symbols of Caliphal authority.
Al-Qahira itself seems to have been modeled on the city of al-Mansuriyya in North
Africa with the royal palaces taking a similar arrangement as well as the names of the
some of the gates remaining unchanged. 62 This is probably due to the fact that this
particular urban arrangement made perfect sense within the Shi’i paradigm; with the
central palace being the domain of Caliph and his ancestors and thus the spiritual center
of the city. This fits the model of ‘ilm or sacred knowledge being centered on the Imam63
and only can be revealed through him. It is not surprising that we see the Fatimid dar alhikma also being constructed within this nucleus.64
It is surprising to find that the mosque does not in fact feature directly within this
nucleus. Al-Azhar was constructed slightly to the South East and was not even the stage
for ceremony. This status was reserved for the musalla, palace and great iwan and later
the streets and sahas between them.
61
Ibid., 50.
Ibid., 42.
63
Ibid., 43.
64
Ibid., 43.
62
35
2. The Reign of al-Aziz
The reign of al-‘Aziz saw major urban and ceremonial activity and would set a trend
for Caliphs to come. By the end of the 9th c., al-Aziz had begun construction of a new
congregational mosque outside the walls of the city and began to pray at al-Azhar on
Friday during Ramadan, probably due to construction at the site of the musalla.65 Later,
he would pray at both al-Azhar and al-Hakim on alternating Fridays during Ramadan.66
This would develop into an elaborate procession to his newly completed mosque, later
known as al-Hakim after his son, with benches placed along the path for his entourage
and army who were seated by rank and all the while chanting takbīr. This procession
would head out from the palace along the qasaba and past the gates, returning from alJamaliyya and back up to the palaces (Fig 2.5). Saunders sees this stage as the first
attempt at ritualizing the city by spreading royal movement throughout the city 67 and
sees the use of benches as affirming the physical link between the palace and the mosque
with the takbīr creating a liturgical link.68 She goes further to explain that the Caliph had
recently integrated new elements into his army and thus ceremony may have been used to
reaffirm the role of the Caliph as the commander of the entire army69 and assert his new
political agenda. It is interesting to note that takbīr is generally an act carried during ‘īd
prayers only; it may have been intended to lend an added significance in the minds of his
entourage and create an overall religious majesty to the setting. Al-‘Aziz’s “ritualization”
65
Ibid., 48.
Ibid., 49.
67
Ibid., 73.
68
Ibid., 49.
69
Ibid., 51.
66
36
succeeded in unifying the city and articulating the role of urbanism within the ceremonial
context. His son would continue this development and bring it to a culmination in the
mosque that he built and was later renamed after his son; the mosque of al-Hakim.
2. The Reign al-Hakim to al-Afdal
Al-Hakim began his rule by understanding the value of his father’s ritualization and
ceremonial; during his struggle over accession this young Caliph followed the same path
from palace to mosque and in a way this became symbolic of the passing of authority
from deceased Imam to his successor.70 His actions do not stop here though, in addition to
completing his father’s mosque he also adds his own titles to the monument in a highly
prominent tiraz band;71 a fact that had never before been seen in al-Qahira and would
never be forgotten. This is in addition to the actual content of the message, which was
highly charged ideologically.72
Al-Hakim had taken the game to its logical conclusion; why use only temporal
messages such as takbīr and temporary benches when you can have it there for eternity
and for all to see? Al-Hakim would continue to unify the city by praying at all four
congregational mosques of al-Qahira and Fustat; al-Azhar, al-Hakim, the mosque of
‘Amr as well as the mosque at Rashida.73 Their distribution through the city effectively
“tied” up the city in a string of prayer and chant-accompanied movement.
It is my view that this is the point in Cairene history where urbanism truly became an
insignia of royalty; the integration of urban centers through ceremony would be a trend
that would continue for centuries in Cairo. By perpetuating his father’s ceremonial
70
Ibid., 63.
Ibid., 55
72
Ibid, 55.
73
Ibid, 61.
71
37
practice and his own son carrying out his duties in his absence, we see urban ceremony
come into its own and begin to be permanent urban manifestations.
Upon closer examination of the mosque of al-Hakim we see a highly deliberate and
careful treatment of these image-enhancing urban manifestations. By promoting his
mosque as being equal in status to the three holy sites of Islam; Mecca, Medina and
Jerusalem,74 he tried to bestow upon the center of his empire a quality that it lacked and
which his empire as a whole had recently lost; holiness of site. Yet the manipulation of
the mosque facade for political campaigning did not stop here; the mystery of the added
salients continues to baffle historians till this day. When scrutinized within the context of
the political environment of the time, it was found that they may have been added to
cover up the form of the minarets after the loss of Mecca and Medina to the Jarrahids.
The form of these minarets, which supposedly evoked those at Medina, may have been
too painful a reminder of the recent political and religious loss.75 Yet it is interesting to
note that the content of the message of these salients may have actually been the aim for
adding them, not merely a method to obscure the original structure.
An error in citing the verse number in an earlier documentation on the Southern
bastion led a number of scholars to base their interpretations on the content of verse
9:107-108,76 instead of the correct verse which is 9:18 from Surat al-Tawba.77 Despite
the fact that the correct verse nullifies all their arguments regarding the propagation of a
political message about the Sharif of Mecca through the use of a Quranic inscription,
there is an interesting observation I would like to point out. The incorrectly cited verses
74
Ibid, 56.
Jonathon Bloom, “The Mosque of al-Hakim”, 28.
76
This includes Jonathon Bloom, “The Mosque of al-Hakim”, Irene Bierman, Writing Signs and Paula
Sanders, Ritual, Politics and the City. The contested verse speaks of “hypocrites taking Allah’s mosques in
opposition and unbelief”.
77
Montasser, Monumental Quranic Inscription on Cairene Religious Monuments, 43-44.
75
38
obviously encouraged a great deal of interpretation regarding the possible political
meaning behind them, for obvious reasons;
“And there are those who put up a mosque by way of mischief and infidelity - to disunite
the Believers - and in preparation for one who warred against Allah and His Messenger
aforetime. They will indeed swear that their intention is nothing but good; But Allah doth
declare that they are certainly liars.”78
‫وال(ذين ات(خذوا مسجدا ضرارا وكفرا وتفريقا بين المؤمنين وإرصادا لمن حارب الله‬
‫ورسوله من قبل وليحلفن( إن أردنا إل ( الحسنى والله يشهد إن(هم لكاذبون‬
“Never stand thou forth therein. There is a mosque whose foundation was laid from the
first day on piety; it is more worthy of the standing forth (for prayer) therein. In it are
men who love to be purified; and Allah loveth those who make themselves pure.”79
‫ أسس على الت(قوى من أو(ل يوم@ أحق> أن تقوم فيه فيه رجال‬E‫ل تقم فيه أبدا ل(مسجد‬
>‫يحب>ون أن يتطه(روا والله يحب‬
‫المط(هرين‬
The correct verse, 9:18, a typical choice for a mosque inscription, is of itself
unremarkable,
“The mosques
of Allah shall be visited and maintained by such as believe in Allah and
the Last Day, establish regular prayers, and practice regular charity, and fear none (at
all) except Allah. It is they who are expected to be on true guidance.” 80
78
Holy Quran, 9:107.
Ibid, 9:108.
80
Ibid, 9:18.
79
39
‫إن(ما يعمر مساجد الله من آمن بالله واليوم الخر وأقام الص(لة وآتى الز(كاة ولم‬
‫يخش إل ( الله فعسى أولـئك أن يكونوا من المهتدين‬
But let us examines the context of this verse closely; mainly verses 9:17 and 9:19
respectively;
“It is not for such as join gods with Allah, to visit or maintain the mosques of Allah while
they witness against their own souls to infidelity. The works of such bear no fruit: In Fire
shall they dwell.”81
‫ما كان للمشركين أن يعمروا مساجد ا شاهدين على أنفسهم بالكفر أولئك حبطت‬
‫أعمالهم وفي الن(ار هم خالدون‬
“Do ye make the giving of drink to pilgrims, or the maintenance of the Sacred Mosque,
equal to (the pious service of) those who believe in Allah and the Last Day, and strive
with might and main in the cause of Allah. They are not comparable in the sight of Allah.
and Allah guides not those who do wrong.”82
‫أجعلتم سقاية الحاج وعمارة المسجد الحرام كمن آمن بالله واليوم الخر وجاهد‬
‫في سبيل الله ل يستوون عند الله‬
‫ِ والله ل يهدي القوم الظ(المين‬
81
82
Ibid, 9:17.
Ibid, 9:19.
40
Could this possibly be a reference to the Sharif of Mecca after all? The specific
reference to the main role of the Sharif of Mecca; the maintenance of the haramyn and
the care of the pilgrims, though not directly stated, is somewhat inferred. The scope of
this study does not allow us to draw further conclusions but the coincidence seems to be
worthy of mentioning.
Additionally, al-Hakim had referred to his mosque as “being a better place to stand in
to pray”.83 The condemning nature and specification of the verse surely argued for the
rationalization that al-Hakim may have been referring to the infidels of Mecca and
Medina. In light of these arguments, it is also likely that both reasons may have been
developed in series to achieve a single goal; to assuage al-Hakim’s anger and humiliation.
The salients would have drawn more attention to the verses, had they possessed a
message, than a mere façade alteration in addition to making them more visually
prominent (Fig 2.6).
At this point it becomes plausible that the Fatimids had learnt the power of urban
imagery, but more importantly, that urban imagery may have been recognizable to the
people on the street. It was supposedly designed to catch the eye of the general public, it
was intended for them, and it is also likely that most educated Cairenes and travelers
would have gotten the message.
Al-Qahira’s movement away from being strictly a palatial city to an urban center
would continue into the next century, with the boundaries of al-Qahira being articulated
by the walls of Badr al-Jamali. Although this runs in opposition to the general trend of
the Fatimid Caliphs to include the general population through ritualization,84 it may have
83
84
Paula Sanders, Ritual, Politics and the City, 60.
Ibid., 73.
41
been an assertion of this commander’s growing power and desire to assert visual
hegemony by establishing a military symbol around the palaces of the Caliphs.85 It also
established tighter control on tax collection by monitoring the entry of goods into the
city, which would have been vital following the period of economic instability that had
preceded the reign of al-Jamali. We also see a manipulation of royal insignia by these
new powers of state,86 with the vizier al-Jamali87 and later al-Salih Tala’i establishing
their own monuments. Ceremony continues to decline till al-Afdal suppresses it
altogether in an attempt to minimize popular support for the Caliph. It is very interesting
to see that apparently what was celebrated in these ceremonies was the “iconic” quality of
the Caliph and not his actual political authority; viziers had no lack of actual power yet
they still shrunk from partaking in processions despite the fact that they lacked no
audacity in defying the Caliph in other, more vital, matters.
3. The Reign of al-Amir
Ironically enough, it would be a vizier who would restore both ceremony and actual
power to the Caliph al-Amir.88 The brilliance of al-Ma’mun lay not merely in his ability
to recognize ceremony as a potent tool, but in how he was able to manipulate it in service
of the Caliph’s image enhancing campaign. Al-Ma’mun cast a wide net in order to
quickly revitalize the glory of the Fatimid caliphate. The grateful Caliph had the
following words for his brilliant vizier:
“a’adta li-dawlati bahjataha wa jaddadta fīha min al-mahāsin ma lam yakun”89
85
These walls were supposedly intended to protect Cairo from Crusader attacks but never actually served
this purpose.
86
Ibid., 67.
87
I might get into the symbolism of this structure as an urban symbol later.
88
Abouseif, “Aqmar Mosque”, 31- 68.
89
Abouseif, “Aqmar Mosque”, 32.
42
“You have restored to my nation its joy and instated pleasant qualities which had not
existed before”
Seen as the renaissance of the Fatimid period, al-Amir’s reign saw rejuvenation on all
fronts, especially the urban-ceremonial. This included the erection of manzaras within
pleasure gardens, excursions into the countryside with joyous parades and Sufi dancing in
the cemetery; all designed to appeal to a very wide audience.90
Al-Ma’mun responded to a political need by reinterpreting the ritual city of his
predecessors; by re-establishing saint cults and popular festivals91 as well as presenting
the Caliph to the people of Cairo as a glorious, powerful and ever-present figure, he was
able to boost popular support and actively involve the people in the life of the caliphate.
This reached the point where the people themselves were involved in street decoration
during festivals, each neighborhood taking on a different segment of the street. 92
Naturally, this brilliant vizier did not stop at street decorating; he would extend his
agenda to include a far more sophisticated and permanent adaptation to the image of the
ritual city, culminating in the erection of a small neighborhood mosque overlooking the
parade ground of the Eastern and Western palaces.
Al-Mam’un began his changes gradually with the addition of several manzaras to
existing structures. Shubbāks had always existed in the walls of the palace from which
the Caliph would appear and look upon the crowd below at the high point of religious
ceremony and the manzara seems to have added a further dimension to this existing
pattern. Manzaras were added above Bab al-Dhahab and near the main palace,93
strategically placed within areas of public gathering (Fig. 2.5). The mosque of al-Aqmar
90
Ibid, 31.
Ibid., loc. cit.
92
Paula Sanders, Ritual, Politics and the City, 72.
93
Abouseif, “Aqmar Mosque”, 32.
91
43
would also exhibit strong features of “street-responsiveness”, like the mosque of alHakim, as well as ceremonial adaptation. The alignment of the façade was supposedly
done to maintain street alignment so as not to disturb the symmetry of the parade ground
as well as respect qibla orientation (Fig. 2.7).94 Additionally, had the façade not been
aligned, it may have created a constriction along the ceremonial path, since the mosque is
located at the point where the saha ends and the path begins. Abouseif argues for a
reconstruction of the choreography of the parade ground in order to understand how the
mosque responds to the patterns occurring within this space95 and goes on to interpret the
language of the façade decoration as being symbolic of the Caliph and his vizier, alMa’mun (Fig 2.8). Williams, on the other hand, interprets this façade along strictly
religious lines and interprets the same elements as being symbolic of Shi’i theology.96
Regardless of the ultimate iconography of the decoration, the mere fact that the first
elaborately decorated façade in Cairo, after the main portal of al-Hakim, was a structure
upon the royal parade ground is significant.
The significance of this mosque is further underlined by the fact that during ceremonial
the Caliph would pause at this mosque and make a sign of greeting towards his vizier.97
Additionally, the case of the missing roundel seems to hint at a deeper political message
(Fig. 2.8); Abouseif argues that it may have been removed from the façade following the
execution of al-Ma’mun because it contained text glorifying him. This addition and
subtraction of “urban evidence”, similar to what occurred at al-Hakim earlier, speaks of a
sophisticated dynamic that was by no means accidental. When one considers the evidence
in its entirety, we begin to see a politically motivated urban agenda aimed at promoting
94
Ibid., 29.
Ibid, 30.
96
Ibid, 33.
97
Ibid., 32.
95
44
an image-enhancing campaign for the Fatimid Caliph following periods of political
weakness. The language of this campaign is essentially urban in nature; perpetuating the
phenomenon at al-Hakim and establishing a pattern that I will continue to track for the
next five hundred years.
4. The Fatimid Symbolic Urban Language
Before concluding my arguments I would like to highlight aspects of Fatimid
architecture which have been interpreted by scholars as being symbols of the Caliph’s
authority. The Fatimids believed that certain physical objects, such as the coffins of their
ancestors, possessed real powers to the extent that al-Aziz brought them along during his
capture of Aleppo in 386 /996.98 It is known that the palaces themselves were considered
sacred due to the presence of the Imam within them and this value extends into other
aspects of their royal architecture as well. The space in front of the qibla, generally
reserved for the Caliph to give his sermon99 can also be associated with the domes at the
Great Iwan at the Fatimid palace as well as a precedent in Umayyad architecture where
the Caliph Mu’awiyya would often give rulings from under the maqsura dome at the
Great Mosque of Damascus. 100 This interpretation is not new in itself but it is important
to emphasize that the “politically-charged” dome, as an aspect of both religious and
political authority, would continue to be a consistent feature of memorial architecture in
Cairo on both the religious and secular fronts for years to come. This leaves façade
elements such as the shubbak-manzara unit as a symbol of the appearance of the Caliph
and the door-gateway unit as symbols of the Imam as the doorway to ‘ilm.
98
Paula Sanders, Ritual, Politics and the City, 42.
Ibid, 36.
100
Grabar, Ceremonial and Art at the Umayyad Court, 22.
99
45
5. General Conclusions
Towards the end of the Fatimid period, most scholars agree that al-Qahira had
become a ritual city that can largely be explained by ceremony; Sanders in her
exploration of the development of the ritual city sees the city as being “molded by
ceremony.”101 Her analysis of al-Amir’s use of benches to create physical links between
the palace and the newly built mosque pin-points a moment in Fatimid history where the
urban-ceremonial dynamic began to manifest itself in a physical form. Abouseif in her
arguments regarding the Aqmar mosque sees its façade and alignment as evidence of this
aspect and includes the mashhad of al-Juyushi within the same memorial paradigm.102
The creation and development of the Fatimid lingua franca, 103 the establishment of the
generally Islamic idiom, was clearly articulated through ceremony yet operated through
the use of urban language. Royal insignia within the court; the heavily decorated
curtained daises and doors and the long forbidding passageways to the audience halls
lined with soldiers had become enlarged within the city and reinterpreted as ornate
facades, manzaras and ceremonial sahas and routes. The birth of the ceremonialsymbolic urban language had begun and it is my belief that it would continue to thrive for
centuries to come in a variety of forms; I will argue that the Mamluks may have followed
a similar urban idiom, to the extent that it became an integral part of their agenda and
ultimately played a role in the creation of their city’s “image”.
101
Paula Sanders, Ritual, Politics and the City, 39.
Ibid, 37.
103
Ibid., loc. cit.
102
46
Chapter Three
A Profile of the Patrons
Before we begin discussing our profile it is necessary to pause and look beyond the
confines of the Mamluk world in order to gain a clear picture of some of the aspects of
this enigmatic age. The first enigma is the fact that according to Islamic law, the Imam or
leader of the community must be free. In the case of the Mamluks, their slave status
placed them at an obvious disadvantage. Mamluk slaves had to be emancipated before
becoming sultans themselves104 but the stigma of having been a slave is suggested as one
of the main motivators for Sultans to outdo themselves in pomp and glory.
Still, it is my belief that it may have been more than the slavery issue that was at the
root of their legitimacy “charades”. These elaborate acts of investiture, started by Baybars
with the arrival of the Abbasid Caliph in Cairo after the fall of Baghdad in mid 13th
century, are in no way uncommon. We have the cases of the Buyid, Seljuk and Zangid
Sultans requesting and receiving investiture in order to rule. What I will argue is that the
emphasis placed on investiture ceremony by Baybars and other Bahri Mamluks may have
had more to do with royal imagery than with problems of legitimacy.
Ironically, such diplomas of investiture have no basis in Islamic doctrine; they are
political inventions of the early Islamic dynasties. In Islam, rule is determined by
democratic vote; the most worthy to rule does so. It is based on mashura or popular vote
and there is little indication in the sira of the Prophet (pbuh) that he ever indicated
otherwise, despite Shi’i allegations to the contrary. So technically speaking, the Mamluks
104
Stowasser, “Manners and Customs at the Mamluk Court”, 14.
47
had every right to rule according to Islamic law so long as they were free before
becoming Imam of the people,which was the case with the Mamluks. It is hard to believe
that on the eve of the Mongol sack of Baghdad these fierce and brave warriors would not
have won a vote anywhere in the Islamic world. In short, Islamic law promotes the kind
of meritocracy that allowed the Mamluks to ascend to the throne; all that followed from
so-called legitimacy-driven motivation was purely socio-political and dynastic in nature.
1. The Mamluk Background
As mentioned previously, the Bahri and most of the Burji Mamluks started off their
careers as slaves purchased by their Mamluk master. This phenomenon led to a unique
kind of childhood; estranged from their families, they grew up with powerful bonds of
brotherhood and loyalty to their master. The purchase and training of slaves as an elite
royal guard had developed under the Abbasids and would see a more militaristic
expression under the later Ayyubids. The rearing of young Mamluks generally included a
rigorous life of orthodox religious teaching and strenuous military training. The result
naturally was a true mujahid; a corps of fiercely loyal fighting machines. This
phenomenon was praised by contemporaries as being the answer to Islam’s problems; in
the absence of the quintessential Islamic warrior, these young men seemed to be an
effective answer to a serious problem, a solution that would be resorted to time and again
throughout the Islamic world.105 For these reasons, these young boys were chosen from
harsh Turkish territory so that the life of the saddle could be inbred. Raised in isolation
during their early years and generally discouraged to mingle with the population, their
105
This phenomenon was greatly facilitated by the fact that Islamic teaching emphasizes the blurring of
nationalistic-cultural affiliation.
48
lives would continuously show manifestations of this background.106 This isolation had
several reasons; to breed blind loyalty to their master they had to be protected from all
other ideas or forces, they lived and ate with their master and saw him as a father, lord
and master.
This background would continue to influence them as minority military elite, unable to
interact freely within Cairene social life.107 This phenomenon can be seen manifested in
their attitudes to both ceremonial and architecture.
a. An Elitist Society: The Ruler and the Ruled
Their status as the military elite naturally led to a social hierarchy intrinsically linked
to the seat of the Sultanate. Al-Maqrizi’s hierarchy of Mamluk society, though based on
the Khaldunian model, still speaks of a hierarchy that is not social or related to “wealth”
but based on relations with the royal elite.108 Qassem describes the relation as being oneway, with the population paying their dues while royalty was under no such obligation.109
Though I tend to disagree with this view, it seems to be generally accurate for most of the
period where attitudes of royalty tended towards seeing Egypt as more of a business
venture than anything else. This naturally led to a great deal of political and social
resentment which was cleverly handled by the sultans through the manipulation of their
image.
One of the cleverest balancing acts carried out by the Bahri Mamluks, especially Sultan
Baybars, to overcome this problem was their carefully monitored and controlled
106
Abdou Qassem, Age of the Mamluk Sultans, 16. This pattern would change somewhat during the late
14th century where they began to intermarry and mingle more freely with the general population.
107
Abdou Qassem, Age of the Mamluk Sultans, 16.
108
Ibid., 12..
109
Ibid., 12.
49
concentric system of rule. Despite their isolation, there was a strong desire to be in touch
with the people. They were aided in this by both the ulama and sheikhs, official and
unofficial, whose influence extended deep into society. Together with the various
religious institutions, the religious elite acted as a mediative element for the Mamluk
ruling class.110
b. Prevailer Rules
This brings me to the next point in my discussion regarding some of the main aspects
of this age; mainly the concept of “Prevailer Rules” or al-hukmu limman ghalab.111 As
mentioned previously, the type of meritocracy that controlled the ascension to the throne
had ramifications upon all aspects of Mamluk life. The fact that it was a “survival of the
strongest” scenario impacted how they lived their private and public lives to a great
extent and this was regulated largely by spatial and ceremonial arrangements as well as
administrative and economic forces. Spatial arrangements acted on protecting the
physical body of the Sultan from attack by his own Mamluks or general population while
ceremonial acts were geared mainly at promoting to the world at large a façade of
omnipotence. In a sense one of the greatest assurances a Mamluk could have of popular
support was achieved by the sponsoring of charitable foundations. The most obvious
manifestation of this phenomenon on the urban environment was the proliferation of the
charitable foundation complex, where the Mamluk sultan and his amirs invested large
sums of money in these foundations in order to achieve a variety of objectives. Gaining
favor with the people probably would have been a high priority, but it is also clear that
110
111
Williams, “Urbanization and Mamluk Construction”, 34.
Abdou Qassem, Age of the Mamluk Sultans, 10.
50
these foundations fulfilled a variety of other needs such as creating nuclei for urban
development in new or deserted areas, the protection of personal estates through the use
of the waqf system,112 as well as projecting an image of piety.
It is now clear that in such an environment one was forced to use every trick in the
book; from unsavory political assassinations, expropriations and public assault to the far
more savory self-promotion through urban patronage and image enhancing ceremony.
c. Legitimacy and the Dynastic Image
During the reign of the Mamluks, the Islamic world and specifically the areas directly
embroiled in the military conflict succeeded in rallying together under a single religiopolitical goal; the defense of the umma against foreign invasion and eventual destruction.
It was in this religiously based political environment that we see the apogee of Cairene
urban expression and patron agenda development and it is within this light that it should
be interpreted. From this point we see almost every ceremonial-urban or purely
ceremonial act as channeling towards this single desire for Islamic idealism; the presence
of the puppet Abbasid Caliph to consolidate the fact that those who could rule had not
noble blood in their veins, the elaboration of court ritual, the implementation of Shari’abased justice, the use of socio-religious movements such as Sufism and most importantly,
the creation of an urban image that spoke fluently of this. Legitimacy would obviously
become a fundamental part of the paradigm which generated the Mamluk design agenda
during the climax of their urban expression.
112
The phenomenon of using the waqf as a way to protect possessions from expropriation is often cited as
one of the main reasons for the proliferation of these foundations.
51
The rise of the Dar al-‘Adl structure as a building type corresponds with this age and
lies in the areas that were directly involved in jihad against the Crusader armies.113The
cities that saw Dar al-’Adl construction were at the front line of Crusade resistance;
Damascus, Aleppo and Cairo and their rulers naturally promoted the image of protectors
of Sunni Islam despite their non-Arab origin,114 not unlike the Seljuk Sultan and the
attempts of their viziers to promote their image by monument construction, as exhibited
by the dome chambers of the great mosque of Isfahan.
Despite the disappearance of these structures, they have been described well in
sources. Fortunately, the one that has been best documented graphically is the one under
study. Rabbat, in his study of the Citadel and the Dar al-‘Adl phenomenon has been able
to use these sources to reconstruct the use, meaning and reason for their disappearance.115
The judicial system of Islam is described as one that “Brings the litigants to an
agreement by fear and prevents the contestants from rebuffing the judgment by awe. It is
a position that that combines the authority of the ruler and the impartiality of the
judge”.116
The role of the Sultan here is vital, by his ability to awe and intimidate. He is an
essential part of the process; the architecture of the building expressed this fully; much as
a courthouse would today. We see similar arrangements very early in Islam at the
audience halls of Caliphal palaces such as Mshatta; mazālim sessions of early Islam were
carried out either in the audience halls of palaces or in the mosque itself.117 At Mshatta,
we see a similar arrangement of alternating narrow halls and wide spaces, leading to a
113
Rabbat, “Ideological Significance”, 4.
Ibid., 19.
115
Ibid., 4.
116
Ibid., 5.
117
Grabar, Ceremonial and Art at the Umayyad Court, 22.
114
52
long open space, ending with the main ceremonial chamber of the Sultan (Fig 3.1). This
imposing tri-apsidal hall, with its imposing façade (Fig 3.2) poses as an interesting
typological precedent for the Iwan al-Kabir; but where at Mshatta, the sense of awe
would have been experienced mainly on the interior, at the Iwan al-Kabir we begin to see
this expression of intimidation being seen on the both the interior, the approach to the
structure as well as on an urban scale, with this symbol of justice dominating the Cairene
skyline (Fig. 3.3).
Both Abu al-Hasan al-Mawardi (974-1058) in his Ahkam al-Sultaniyya and Nizam alMulk in his Siyasat Namah, discussed attendance at mazālim sessions as being a vital role
of the Muslim ruler. The Bahri Mamluks in particular, being inheritors of both Abbasid
power and Seljuk ideology via the Ayyubids, maintained this role during most of their
reign. 118 The presence of the Sultan at these sessions was not only necessary for the
process of justice itself, but also reflected on the Sultan himself. 119 The attention to this
vital aspect of Islamic justice would be downplayed or actively promoted through the
various periods of the Mamluk period and a directly proportional relation is observable
between these sessions and ceremonial-urban attention. Thus the Dar al-’Adl, as an
Ayyubid innovation, with no precedent as a building type in Dar al- Islam,120 acted as a
visual symbol of upholding justice and conforming to Islamic Law, at a time when rulers
actively included this within their image promotion. 121
118
Ibid., 6.
Ibid., 5.
120
Ibid., 4.
121
Ibid., 6.
119
53
d. The Mamluk Visual Memory
The visual memory is defined as the range of architectural/urban vocabulary or
materials that a patron associates with various messages such as monumentality, austerity
or grandiosity.122 In regards to the Mamluks, this issue is rather difficult to define, yet
some circumstantial evidence points to a possible outline for such a visual memory.
Though highly speculative, the fact that historians often attacked Mamluk rulers for
keeping part of their Turkic tradition alive through practice and language may point to a
possible Turkic visual memory.123 Whether or not this can be substantiated through
architectural analysis is out of the scope of this study. Another possible source for a
visual memory would be both the Abbasid and Persian court.124 It is documented that the
Mamluks turned to these courts for inspiration regarding court ceremonial. There is also
evidence that the Persian court may have had some influence upon Cairo’s architecture
regarding tile decoration.125 Yet these links are far too tenuous, their occurrence being
rare and mostly anecdotal. If one is to reflect upon a Mamluk visual memory, one must
think of them firstly as residents of Cairo, thus being inheritors of the Cairene visual
memory.
So what exactly was the Cairene visual memory? It suffices at this point to say that,
without doubt, the legacy of the Fatimids and Ayyubids constituted the greater part of
Cairo’s visual memory and that is it likely that it played a role in the formation of the
Mamluk urban message. Yet this issue carries an interesting twist; it is well documented
that the Ayyubids and Mamluks were selective in their choice of Fatimid decorative
122
Khoury, “Umayyad Power Architecture”, 58.
In this sense the Turkic visual memory would be one more Persian than Central Arab in nature, with a
different expression of monumentality and aesthetics.
124
Abouseif, “The Citadel”, 29.
125
Rabbat, The Citadel, 266.
123
54
schemes, possibly for political reasons.126 Elements which carried obvious iconographical
connotations do not appear on any of the later monuments of Cairo, and so it is likely that
both the choice and the omission were ideologically driven.
Unlike the Fatimids, the Mamluks had no noble “house” or lineage to fall back on,
being essentially slaves127 with military power but no dynastic might.128Thus, by
associating themselves on a subconscious level with the noble image of their
predecessors, they succeeded in giving their image the needed finish. In the case of the
Ayyubids, such an association could be made on a direct level, where Mamluk
architecture flows naturally out of the Ayyubid period. Yet in the case of the Fatimids,
this was not so straightforward, for obvious reasons. What will follow is a demonstration
of how the Mamluks succeeded in acquiring the “best of both worlds”. For it was not
possible to “gain” from the Cairene visual memory and benefit from the strong evocative
power that it possessed without directly connecting themselves with the Fatimid legacy.
Accordingly, it had to be done very subtly, mainly on an urban level.
126
Certain Fatimid motifs were apparently intentionally avoided in the Ayyubid and Mamluk period. These
motifs were generally those with close links to Shi’i ideology such as the panels with flowering vases on
the facade of al-Aqmar. Only certain elements of Fatimid decoration carried on, mainly those which
achieved monumental appearance without direct links to Shi’I ideology, such as niching and elements of
minaret design.
127
It is important to remember that the perception of the slave in Islam is very different than the slave in the
West for example. In fact, it was an honored state since the Mamluks were perceived as being “pure
Muslims”, uncontaminated by vices and the easy life. Being born into warrior families, they were seen as
the few Muslims with the ghazi spirit still alive within them.
128
Asfour, “Mamluk Esthetics”, 237.
55
2. Urbanism and the Sultanic Image
The Mamluks pose a unique case where it was not possible for a single family
line to control the throne, due to the nature of their rule.129 This situation had a strong
impact on architectural patronage, as Mamluks in theory were not allowed to pass on
wealth to their families, nor perpetuate their own memory through an illustrious line
of offspring. As a result, monuments became the sole vehicle for commemoration and
the preservation of wealth, as well as being considered an astute political move.130
Mamluk rule was characterized by violent upheavals and dethronements, especially
towards the end of the period. This is not to mention the impact that the iqt`a and
waqf system had upon the urban scene; where both systems contributed towards the
investment in charitable foundations to avoid confiscation of wealth in times of
political turmoil.
Thus the impetus behind architectural and urban development served several
purposes; ensuring reward in the afterlife, commemoration through du`aa, people’s
support in case of political unrest, projecting a legitimizing religious façade,
controlling religious education through madrasa construction and benefiting from the
loophole-ridden waqf system in protecting their family and themselves from property
loss. In the end, we see very clear self-promotion in this scenario, establishing an
image before the eyes of the people as powerful and illustrious sultans with their
buildings literally acting as backdrops for them at their times of greatest public
exposure; sultanic ceremonial.
129
This of course was not without exception; namely the Qalawunid family as well as the Sultan Barquq
whose throne passed to his son Faraj.
130
Raymond, Cairo, 121.
56
The point that contributed mostly to the street façade was commemoration through
epigraphic bands and roundels. We find that the vast majority of Mamluk epigraphy
glorified the patron, containing his titulature and statements glorifying his might,131 as
would be expected of any ruler. Yet the floweriness of the titles, the large size and
high visibility of these bands may shed light on an interesting observation: with the
absence of a dynastic line of offspring for the Sultan; the monuments became even
more important as a focus for the perpetuation of his personal legacy (Fig. 3.4). In a
sense, the buildings took the place of his heirs, in the commemorative sense. Thus,
the socio-cultural background of the Mamluks played a role in their attitude towards
architectural patronage in general, and specifically in their proclivity for the creation
of some kind of urban dynastic image. Being deprived as individuals of perpetuating
their image through their bloodline, they sought this affirmation through their
allegiance to a greater whole. This was achieved through the creation of a collective
urban image; by subscribing to a greater expression of architectural dynastic glory,
each Sultan benefiting from its perpetuation.
A further aspect of this can be manifested in their attitudes to their courtly
identity. Despite their frequent battling among one another, they possessed a strong
sense of unity and “aristocratic aloofness”. 132 They followed a strict, though often readapted hierarchal system which controlled everything from rank to costume to
protocol. Stowasser links this strict protocol to the lack of a common background,
where their ethnic diversity led to a strong adherence to common and binding
practices.133 This creation of a new, common identity through dress and
131
Grabar, “Why Write on Buildings?”, 71-74.
Stowasser, “Manners and Customs at the Mamluk Court”, 15.
133
Ibid., loc. cit.
132
57
administrative protocol can be seen echoed in their desire for a unique architectural
identity. Despite the obvious visual connectivity with Cairene architectural elements
of their predecessors, the resultant product is uniquely Mamluk. It is likely that the
self same appropriative approach to the design of ceremony and courtly protocol may
have also been resorted to in the design of the architecture which complimented it.
58
Chapter Four
The Ceremonial-Urban Dynamic of the Early Bahri Mamluks
The reign of the Bahri Mamluks would herald the age of Egypt’s political,
economical and cultural dominance of the Dar al-Islam. The serendipitous fact that these
warrior kings were in a position to rise and protect what remained of the umma from
vicious attack on two fronts would further enhance their image as resurrectors of the jihad
spirit of early Islam. Their valor and military success acted as their ticket to power, but it
was their political acuity, prowess and cultural dynamism that would ensure their survival
and the cultural renaissance that occurred during their reign. It was under the Bahri
Mamluks that several facets of Cairene architecture would undergo a rapid and
innovative integration with features and concepts from Cairo’s past and the entire Dar alIslam. The force of ceremony would act as a catalyst in defining the main manifestations
of this integrative innovation; urban or extra muros awareness.
The unique nature of the Mamluk system has led some scholars to disregard the
Mamluks as being “non-dynastic”, where their monuments are compared to the
architecture of the strongly propagandistic Mughals and Timurids and found wanting as
far as “ideological showiness” is concerned”.134 It is the bane of Cairene architecture that
the secular expression of its architectural apogee has all but disappeared, not only from
the actual city’s vista but also from our perception of the traditional city. This in itself is
not surprising, since we are fortunate to have historical records of the appearance of the
134
Grabar, “History in Cairo”, 1. Karl Stowasser, Manners and Customs at the Mamluk Court”, 13. Others
argue for the opposite perspective, See O’Kane, “Monumentality in Mamluk and Mongol Architecture”,
510-513 and Rabbat, Citadel of Cairo.
59
palatial architecture of the Bahri Mamluks, their physical disappearance has left the
image of Mamluk Cairo strangely skewed. Although scholars agree that the Mamluks
successfully monumentalized the city they had inherited, they are often perceived as
merely “military custodians” offered leadership by the umma out of desperation and fear
of annihilation. 135 Despite the fact that the Mamluk ranks were deliberately invested in by
the late Ayyubids and early Mamluks for exactly this reason;136 the investment in their
upbringing, both religious-cultural as well as military would have created an elite corps
capable of functioning at a level that must have exceeded mere military prowess. The
exploration and analysis of their secular and religious architectural expression, in light of
their profile as rulers, will hopefully shed more light on their role as definers of the
Cairene urban image; a role that surpasses that of military custodian and enters the realm
defined by Ibn Khaldun as that of royal authoritarian, with all its cultural implications.137
1. Pre-Mamluk Cairo
In order to follow and appreciate the logic of the early Bahri Sultans regarding the
image of the city, it is necessary to briefly explore the relationship of the seat of power to
urbanism throughout the various periods of Cairo’s history. The connection between the
palatial complex and the city is one that is inevitably articulated by ceremony and the
spaces it generates. Ahmad b. Tulun, in an act of political defiance, would be the first to
construct his palatial complex on Jabal Yashkur to the north of the main urban center at
Fustat. The configuration of the mosque, Dar al-‘Imara and palace unit, overlooking a
135
Williams, “Urbanization and Mamluk Construction”, 33.
Raised away from the luxuries of a life at court, the aim was to attempt to recreate the jihad spirit of
Islam’s early days where fierce warriors untainted by palace pampering lead the faithful.
137
Ibn Khaldun defines the presence of royal authority as a catalyst for the rise of civilization and attributes
this to the needs of royalty for certain trappings to create their image. See Ibn Khaldun, Al-Muqaddima,
237-286.
136
60
vast maydan can almost be seen as a prelude to the Mamluk scenario centuries later (Fig.
2.3). By constructing his political hub on a point of visual dominance and creating a
space to accommodate and flaunt his troops, he was able to express in urban terms his
new role as independent ruler of Egypt. In this light, it is not surprising to learn that the
Abbasid Caliph was quick to destroy this hub soon after he regained control of Egypt.138
Not unlike the Tulunids, one of the first acts of the Fatimids was to create a walled
enclosure for their new palatial complex, constructing their palaces in a way that would
make them the highest points within the enclosure.139 They also chose the northern
section of Cairo for their walled city, but unlike the Tulunids, their palatial-religious
complex was in no way integrated with the existing urban fabric. Instead the palatial
complex and the ceremonial space it overlooked was mainly introverted and served a
political as well as a religious role for its exclusively Shi’i population. This urbanceremonial handicap would be remedied by the likes of the vizier al-Ma’mun by
arranging for ceremonial to leave the confines of the city and joining the Sunni majority
in their urban center at Fustat. The Fatimid city had been intended for select elite and its
urban elements responded accordingly. It was due to this particular size-related hindrance
as well as the force of urbanization elsewhere, that Bayn al-Qasrayn quickly dwindled in
importance as a ceremonial gathering point for Mamluk ceremony, despite the presence
of the foundations of its sultans. Its role would be confined to a “pause” along the
ceremonial path; with the main action moving closer and closer to the Citadel until it
reached its highest expression in the confines of the Southern enclosure.
138
139
Abouseif, “The Citadel of Cairo”, 2.
Abouseif, “Aqmar Mosque”, 29.
61
The Ayyubid seat of power would also exhibit an interesting phenomenon with Salah
al-Din residing in the Dar al-Wizara for the duration of his rule, despite his plans to move
the royal residence to the Citadel, which were cut short by his departure for Syria before
it was completed.140 In this manner the seat of power stayed within the Fatimid city but it
was the city that came to the seat of power, with the opening of al-Qahira to the general
public at this point. Despite the strongly anti-Shi’i acts of the Ayyubids, their ceremonies
followed the spaces of their predecessors closely. Beginning at Bab al-Nasr and Bab alFutuh, with stops at Bayn al-Qasrayn, these processions continued through Cairo until
Bab Zuwayla. Although this route, as well as the spaces along it, had been effectively
stripped of ideological significance by Salah al-Din, they still obviously possessed some
quality that would ensure their survival as urban focal points for centuries afterwards.
This fate was all but sealed by the construction of the madrasa-mausoleum of al-Salih
Najm al-Din Ayyub as well as the Kamiliyya madrasa before it. Later, the Citadel came
into its own as a seat of power under al-Kamil, with his development of the Southern
enclosure as a royal residence. He is also credited with the building of the first dar al-’adl
in Cairo as well as a ceremonial iwan (Iwan al-Kamil) similar to the one found at the
Roda Island Citadel. The general direction of this development was continued and
consolidated by the urban-conscious Sultan Baybars, who took al-Kamil’s initiative to its
logical conclusion with his series of projects at the Citadel. The period which followed
the death of al-Salih Najm al-Din Ayyub would see some urban activity at the Citadel but
was not particularly notable for its urban-ceremonial connections.
140
Ibid., 3.
62
1. Pre-Mamluk Ceremonial
This brings us to the next stage in Cairene history with the reign of Salah al-Din b.
Ayyub during the last quarter of the 12th c. Cairo during the Ayyubid period is best
understood when seen in the greater context of the Islamic world; its role had changed
from the capital of an economically and culturally advanced empire to the war
headquarters for an umma at risk. Cairo’s role had become that of a stronghold for the
Islamic world; a launching point for the ultimate attack on Jerusalem, carefully planned
for years by the Sultan Nur al-Din b. Zangi and carried out by Salah al-Din. In this light
we see a highly conservative approach towards Cairo’s urbanism; Salah al-Din’s
decisions to remain in the Dar al-Wizara in the heart of Cairo and begin construction at
the citadel were motivated by purely military and political reasons. Unlike his
predecessors, his austere approach to royal life would create a precedent that would not
be forgotten by his offspring. His attitude was in line with the general attitudes of his
time; the belief that the decadence of royalty had brought upon the Islamic world the
terrors of Crusader invasion created a general desire to focus on uniting the umma and
setting aside personal differences, as well as desires and ambitions, till Jerusalem was
safely in Islamic hands once more. Furthermore, his great victories were celebrated by
himself not so much in Cairo as in Damascus and Jerusalem;141 in a way they had become
center stage, leaving Cairo little or no share of the pomp and ceremony. This ultimately
was Salah al-Din’s goal; the return of Jerusalem and control of the coastal Syrian towns.
In a way Cairo was an ends to a means. It is my belief that had Salah al-Din lived longer;
he may have embarked on furthering his initial attempts at the “de-Fatimization” of Cairo
141
It would be useful to look into what kind of ceremonial function took place on his arrival in Damascus
following his capture of the various Crusader forts prior to Jerusalem and of course Jerusalem itself.
63
by continuing to promote strictly Sunni urban elements142 and encouraging popular and
religious ceremony.
It is possible to think of Salah al-Din as a man on a mission with a very clear check
list; to get rid of the Shi’i threat to Sunnism, to retain power without alienating the
Zangid authority, to unite and strengthen the umma and finally, to regain Jerusalem.
Thus, it is not surprising that we see little of the ceremonial-urban dynamic taking place
during the early Ayyubid period. I see the Ayyubids as investing in a different kind of
infrastructure; one that was pan-Islamic and intended to serve beyond the borders of
Egypt. They ruled at a time when it was only possible to build an empire if you protected
the whole umma; not only investing within the confines of your own domain. Ibn
Khaldun speaks of such a stage when rulers invest in armies and political infrastructures
and describes urban investment as a later stage of this development.143 It is my belief that
the Ayyubid rulers of Cairo lingered in this primary stage longer than normal due to the
exterior forces acting upon their empire. Only with the Sultan al-Kamil do we begin to
see the secondary stage of civic development taking place,144 only to be cut short with his
death. What is important to note at this point is that the Mamluks would pick up precisely
where al-Kamil left off in his urban-ceremonial aspirations.
The Mamluks were able to benefit from the momentum of their predecessors; the
efforts of the Ayyubids prepared the Islamic world and Cairo for the rise of this strong
empire composed of warriors fired by the ghazi spirit. As a result, the first de facto
Mamluk Sultan Baybars was able to combine Salah al-Din’s pan-Islamic agenda with a
142
His campaign of madrasa and khanqah building in the early years of his reign are evidence of this
general attitude.
143
Ibn Khaldun, al Muqqaddima, 128.
144
An example of this would be the development he commenced for the Southern enclosure of the Citadel,
the construction of the Iwan al-Kamil and the general orientation for development was carried on almost
without interruption by his Mamluk successors.
64
clear internal agenda including political and urban development. This manifested itself in
a mature political hierarchy along with a sophisticated courtly tradition involving
ceremonial practices from all over the Islamic world but mainly derived from the past
dynasties of Egypt. Accordingly, we see a flowering of the ceremonial-urban dynamic
during the reign of this illustrious Sultan, reaching a climax under the Sultan al-Nasir.
The pattern of development tended to focus ceremony on the royal Mamluk domain; in
and around the Citadel. During the early Mamluk period we see Cairo fully incorporated
within this pattern with ceremonial stops at both gates and Bayn al-Qasrayn, not unlike
the Fatimid procession, as part of the standard Sultanic procession.145
Towards the end of the Bahri period we start seeing a move away from Cairo proper
towards the area around the Citadel and the North Eastern cemetery.146 As a general rule,
the pattern of hippodrome construction is an excellent guide to the movement of Mamluk
ceremony due to the fact that Mamluk Sultanic processional involved elaborate furusiyya
activities. The Burji period is relatively uneventful in regards to the ceremonial-urban
dynamic, with some exceptions, though we do see a development of the North Eastern
ceremonial axis leading to the citadel, thus completing our ceremonial “loop” through
Cairo: from the Citadel to the northern gates of Cairo and back down through the
Northeastern cemetery, though not always in that direction.
2. Mamluk Ceremonial under the Bahri Sultans
145
146
Rabbat, The Citadel, 238.
Hamza, The Northeastern Cemetery, 2.
65
Ceremonial under the Mamluks seems to have been an elaborate yet flexible affair.
The rules of ceremony seem to have been adopted from a variety of sources and were not
strictly applied consistently throughout the period.147 This flexibility probably encouraged
a more liberal expression which fostered a selective appropriation unique to each sultan.
The sources for ceremony were predominantly local; mainly Fatimid practices which had
influenced Ayyubid courtly life as well as borrowing from Fatimid practice directly. The
importance of the Abbasid caliphate would also reflect itself in the practices of Mamluk
ceremony along with Seljuq and Mongol courtly customs for added flair. 148 In short,
whatever awed and may possibly have resonated with either the general population or
visiting dignitaries seems to have been used. This phenomenon is of great importance, for
we shall observe an almost identical approach to their appropriation of ceremonial
architecture. Detailed explanation of the aspects of these ceremonies would be out of the
scope of this study, but a brief exploration of certain aspects of appropriation within these
ceremonies, how they acted as part of the Sultanic image and how they interacted with
the urban environment.
Ceremonial under the Mamluks fell roughly into two main categories; Sultanic
ceremonies and popular ceremonies. The former included ceremonies of a military or
princely nature including hunting and furūsiyya tournaments as well as victory parades.
This is in addition to those related to foreign embassies that were of a diplomatic and
commercial nature as well as those related to customary or courtly events such as
investiture ceremonies (Sultanic and amirial), the anointing of the Nilometer, opening of
the Khalij and departure of the mahmal. Popular ceremonies included religious
147
148
Abouseif, “The Citadel of Cairo”, 29.
Idem.
66
celebrations149and these included the celebrations of the Prophet’s (pbuh) birthday as well
as the two feasts.150
The most elaborate of the Sultanic ceremonies was the investiture ceremony. The
Sultan would ride out on his horse from his residence, flanked by his amirs and the four
qadis and surrounded by such royal insignia as the black banner of the Abbasid Caliph,
untill he reached the Citadel.151 The Sultan would be escorted to the main ceremonial hall
where he would be seated on takht al-mulk. He would then be joined by the Caliph who
would place the black Caliphal robe on the new Sultan’s shoulders, followed by the
reading of the diploma of investiture. 152 This would generally be followed by a bestowing
of robes, where the men of the pen and the men of the sword paraded through the city led
by the Sultan. The streets of Cairo were typically decorated for such an event, not unlike
what was done under the reign of the Fatimid Caliph al-Aziz. 153 This practice of being
paraded through the city changed with the third ascension of al-Nasir.
One of the more revealing features of Sultanic ceremony, exemplified here by a
general courtly ceremony, was the role that the Abbasid Caliph played. At the beginning
of each month he headed out to the Citadel on his mule, followed by religious dignitaries
to congratulate the Sultan on the new month. The location of the Caliphal residence is
also revealing; although the Caliph generally resided in the hawsh, he would sometimes
be banished to Qal’at al-Kabsh or al-Sayyida Nafisa, 154 so as to be out of the immediate
royal domain. This obvious marginalizing of the Caliph’s role as a purely spiritual
149
These were not always patronized directly by the Sultan and in many cases he was not present at all.
Abouseif, “The Citadel of Cairo: Stage for Mamluk Ceremonial”, 27-8.
151
Ibid, 48-50. See also, Stowasser, “Manners and Customs at the Mamluk Court”, 16.
152
Stowasser, “Manners and Customs at the Mamluk Court”, 16.
153
Ibid., loc. cit.
154
Abouseif, “The Citadel of Cairo: Stage for Mamluk Ceremonial”, 32.
150
67
symbol was surely intended to minimize the awe he may have inspired in the people. 155
We can see the role that the Caliph played as a sort of Sultanic accessory; the association
with the past Islamic political-spiritual might in the figure of the Caliph is also echoed in
the appropriative approach to the development of Mamluk ceremonial custom from all
over Dar al-Islam. More importantly, we see this same attitude adopted in the
architectural and urban elements drawn upon for the same purpose. This appropriative
approach to ceremonial architecture and urbanism in an attempt to recreate the type of
blanket approach to patron image enhancement that I believe existed under the Bahri
Mamluks.
The second type of Sultanic ceremony was related to the distribution of iqta’. Starting
at Bab al-Nasr and Bab al-Futuh to the north, the procession would continue southwards
till the mausoleum of Qalawun, where the amirs would swear allegiance to the house of
Qalawun (Fig. 4.1).156 This tradition was to change with the end of the Bahri period,
where we see ceremony creeping closer to the Citadel. The third type of ceremony dealt
with the daily proceedings at the Citadel. The typical Sultanic day would start at the qasr
and would include administrative and courtly proceedings such as the reviewing of
troops. This would be followed typically by the mazalim courts on Mondays and
Thursdays and would be held in the Dar al-’Adl.157 This was followed by simat or
banqueting which was an event of great importance since attendance was perceived as a
measure of loyalty.158 During mazalim sessions the Sultan would be seated below the
throne on a cushion on the ground, probably as a sign of humility, where he acted as an
155
Stowasser, “Manners and Customs at the Mamluk Court”, 16.
Qassem, Age of the Mamluk Sultans, 14.
157
Stowasser, “Manners and Customs at the Mamluk Court”, 17. See also Abouseif, “The Citadel of Cairo:
Stage for Mamluk Ceremonial”, 49 after al-Zahiri.
158
The consumption of food has additionally been perceived as being a sign of trust; poisoning was a
common assassination tool and the weekly feeding of Mamluks can be seen somehow in this light.
156
68
overseer of the judge. These sessions and the architecture that housed them were to
become a vital part of the Sultanic image; in this role the Sultan was the true force as
implementer and enforcer of justice.159 As the role of the Sultan in these sessions became
more elaborate and vital, the architecture that housed them became more monumental
and impressive. The phenomenon of the Dar al-‘Adls of Cairo would begin with the
relatively humble structure of Baybars and end with the awe-inspiring Great Iwan of alNasir; a true statement to the role that architecture would play in the image of the Sultan
and a powerful indicator that the messages within this architecture were based on the
patron’s intent. Additionally, these messages not only became more forceful, but also
were raised into the urban scale by addressing the city through their prominent
positioning within the Cairene skyline.
Under al-Nasir and for the rest of the Mamluk period, Sultanic ceremonial would take
place in and around the Citadel. We also note an increasing tendency to move deeper into
the Citadel’s private zones; a consistent pattern that was followed closely by the
development of structures related to ceremonial. In this sense a true pattern emerges;
during the Early Bahri period we observe architectural emphasis on Bayn al-Qasrayn as a
focal point, followed by a shift in interest to the Citadel area and the Maydan starting
under Baybars, with his improvised Dar al-‘Adl directly outside of the Citadel gates.
Qalawun in turn moved the mazalim sessions along with its accompanying ceremony into
the confines of the Citadel walls, most probably for security reasons and possibly due to
the fact that it is reported that the Sultan could not speak Arabic and would probably not
want his handicap publicized in a public arena such as the Maydan. On the other hand,
the investiture ceremony remained within the city for the duration of his reign, probably
159
Stowasser, “Manners and Customs at the Mamluk Court”, 17.
69
because this involved only his appearance. This pattern of urban development following
ceremony would reach a climax under al-Nasir where the Citadel would be the stage for
all Sultanic ceremonies, with the semi-public area of the mosque and Great Iwan as the
climax.
Under the Burjis we observe an even further recession into the Citadel; mainly within
the Hawsh and Harem. Thus ceremony would become an affair of a private nature;
occurring away from the eyes of the public and thus not requiring the support of
monumental architecture. With this our ceremonial-urban dynamic stops within the
Citadel, only to reappear again in another area of Cairo, not surprisingly along a new
ceremonial path initiated in the mid 14th century, mainly the old al-Qabaq at the
Northeastern cemetery.
The next type of ceremonial was associated with a popular aspect of the Mamluk
courtly life; mainly the weekly furūsiyya and polo events held at the various hippodromes
throughout Cairo. This practice had gained popularity under the Ayyubids and was a
tradition that the Mamluks would follow closely. The Ayyubid hippodrome under the
Citadel would be echoed under various Sultans, chiefly Baybars and al-Nasir. Sultan
Baybars held daily qabaq sessions while al-Nasir followed suit with his weekly polo
sessions. These events included typical aspects of Sultanic ceremonial, such as the
bestowing of robes. 160 This tradition would also be continued under the Circassian
Sultans, with the hippodromes at Raydaniyya and at the Northeastern cemetery
mentioned earlier. Here again we may observe the splitting of the role of the MaydanCitadel unit in ceremony. With the development of Raydaniyya and the Northeastern
cemetery, we see a shift in step with the general development of Cairo at the time. At the
160
Ibid, 19.
70
same time we observe ceremonial at the Citadel receding even further out of the semipublic domain. This “urban disappearance” when seen in its totality is a striking contrast
to the desire of the Bahri Sultans to keep their structures and their ceremonies in the
public eye, or at least semi-public eye. What is particularly striking about this
phenomenon is the fact that where the main ceremonial structures and events moved
away from the physical grasp of the people, the Sultans made sure to keep them in their
“visual grasp” by making them a part of the image of their city. This phenomenon will be
highlighted further in our analysis of the structures at the Citadel under al-Nasir and his
immediate predecessors along with an exploration of the remains of the Citadel as
depicted in early 18th c. graphics,161 and through the computer reconstructions of the
Citadel under al-Nasir.
The second category of ceremonial was of a more popular nature and included such
festivals as the celebration of the Prophet’s birthday (pbuh). This would typically be
housed in a tent, with a lavish banquet. The Sultan and ulama would be entertained with
poetry, prose and Quranic recitation as well as Sufi dancing and processions. In a fashion
similar to investiture ceremonies, royal favor would be bestowed.162 Other royal
processions which involved popular participation included the anointing of the Nilometer
and the weekly procession to Friday prayer, both usually low-key and both starting at the
Citadel, unlike under the Fatimids. Under al-Nasir, Friday prayer took place at the Citadel
and accordingly the procession became a strictly courtly event. This follows the same
trend observed in the change in the path for the investiture ceremony under the same
sultan. The popular ceremony that seems to have attracted the most attention from the
161
162
See Appendix.
Ibid, 17.
71
Mamluk Sultans was that of the mahmal,163 which would usually be a high profile
affair.164
The mahmal procession combined both religious and political aspects;165 the baraka
of the kiswa was a great motivator for popular involvement and the role that the Sultans
played as protectors, as khādim al-haramayn should not be underestimated. It is exactly
in this role, as protectors of the most holy sites of Islam, that the Mamluks gained the
truest form of legitimacy; as protectors of the Hajj route and providers for the holy
shrines of Islam. The emphasis placed on this ceremony reveals their interest in
projecting this particular facet of their services to the umma. The involvement of the
Abbasid Caliph in the investiture ceremony and the mahmal procession can be seen as
two faces of the same coin. In this light, it is not surprising to see that al-Ghuri and the
Circassian Sultans in general included furusiyya events at the hippodrome as part of this
event, showcasing their military skills as a symbol of their might as providers for the
haramayn.166 The ceremony began with the arrival of the religious elite at the Citadel.
They would then accompany the mahmal, the army and the Amir al- Hajj on a tour of
Cairo, all the time surrounded by lancers, till their departure from the Northern gates.
This ceremony defined the role of the Mamluk Sultan more than anything else; by reenforcing the relation of the sultan and the people much in the same way that the various
pious institutions throughout Cairo would act.
Ceremonial can also be seen as being part of Sultanic duty; as bestower of bounty he
enriches those around him. 167 We also must note the striking similarities with Fatimid
163
Ibn Taghribirdi attributes this ceremony to Qalawun, 1279. See Abouseif, “The Citadel of Cairo: Stage
for Mamluk Ceremonial”, 65.
164
Stowasser, “Manners and Customs at the Mamluk Court”, 19.
165
Qassem, Age of the Mamluk Sultans, 54.
166
Abouseif, “The Citadel of Cairo: Stage for Mamluk Ceremonial”, 65.
167
Stowasser, “Manners and Customs at the Mamluk Court”, 17.
72
custom; the bestowing of robes of honor, horses and other royal favors all took place
every time the sultan appeared in public. This choreography of the Sultanic appearance
led people to associate him with this bounty, resulting in a pervasive psychological tie
with wealth and omnipotence.
2. The Reign of Baybars
The move to the Citadel acted as a consolidation of the role of the ruler with its
capacity as a military stronghold, an administrative center as well as a residence.168 These
features of the caliphate had been fragmented and scattered throughout the city by the end
of the Fatimid period, with the administrative functions centered on the vizier’s residence
in Fustat, and the religio-political centered at the royal residence in al-Qahira. As far as
fortifications were concerned, al-Qahira’s walls acted not so much as bastions of defense
but as urban walls of inclusion and exclusion.
The Citadel of Cairo would serve a very similar purpose with the seclusion of the
Sultan and his troops within its walls; just as the people had moved into Fatimid alQahira, the Sultanic powerhouse moved out. This has been attributed to the “alien” nature
of these foreign Sultans, some of them even not speaking the language of their people, as
previously mentioned. Baybars would consolidate what had been initiated under the last
of the Ayyubids and been commenced during the reign of Shajjar al-Durr. The foundation
laid by Baybars would echo for decades, not only in the political and administrative
organization but also in the construction patterns he initiated.
The relocation of the seat of government to the Citadel under Baybars seems to have
been a decision initiated by the new Mamluk regime. Baybar’s organization of the
168
Abouseif, “The Citadel of Cairo: Stage for Mamluk Ceremonial”, 29.
73
Mamluk hierarchy is clearly reflected in his urban organization of the Citadel and the
area around it. The concentric nature of the Mamluk system is seen reflected in the
organization at the Citadel with the royal residence centralized and surrounded by spheres
of urbanization ordered by decreasing rank and importance (Fig. 4.2).169 This urban force
is a direct reflection of the political system, where a pyramidal ruling system is reflected
as a centralized urban arrangement, very similar to the Fatimid pattern of al-Qahira
described earlier. This political system needed to be applied on an urban scale for strictly
practical reasons. The Sultan not only wished his Mamluks to be in close proximity to
himself for protection, he also required that they not wander far from his own control.
The settling of the Mamluk army among the people of the city would not only have given
rise to the threat of renegade Mamluks garnering popular support, but may have
destabilized the Sultan significantly by infusing the city with potentially troublesome, and
heavily armed soldiers.170
Decades later, Maqrizi would write of a social hierarchy very similar to the one
expressed at the Citadel. At the tip of his pyramid are members of the royal court,
followed by wealthy merchants, average scale merchants, peasants and countryside
dwellers followed by the ahl al-halaqa and religious students and ending with the poorest
of the poor; mainly beggars and street urchins.171 By overlaying this social class system to
the fabric of Mamluk Cairo we find an almost perfect match to the model described
above. We also observe a strict social hierarchy along the streets of Cairo, with Sultanic
constructions centralized within structures of secondary importance radiating deeper into
the urban fabric of the city (Fig. 4.3). In short, the general trend of Cairene urbanism
169
Ibid, 102.
Ibid, 103.
171
Qassem, 12.
170
74
seems to have been based on the relationship to the ruler. What was seen on a small scale
within the enclosure of Fatimid al-Qahira was now being seen on a much larger scale
throughout the fabric of greater Cairo.
a. The Constructions of Baybars at the Citadel
The Burj al-Ahmar, Burj al-Siba’a and Dar al-Gadida (Dar al-Dhahab) were grouped
together at the Northern tip of the Southern enclosure and reportedly had panoramic
vistas of Cairo and also must have been visible from the city and the maydan. The Burj
al-Siba’a, named after the two bands of carved lions encircling its mass, was not only
symbolic of Baybars, as the Lion of Islam, but also represents one of the few examples of
exterior figural decoration in Cairo. Another example of figural decoration is also found
nearby; the double headed eagle on the exterior walls of the Citadel is reportedly an
Ayyubid symbol. These towers would probably have been used by the Sultan, especially
their upper domed stories, but his main residence would have been in the Dar he built
nearby; the Dar al-Dhahab or Dar al-Gadida. There is little in the sources regarding the
physical appearance of this structure, but the labeling of “dar” suggests a structure that
was probably not very imposing; the towers would probably have played this role.
Baybars later constructed a dome on twelve columns near this dar as well as dwellings
for his Mamluks. He also constructed a palace on the esplanade for his son.172 It is
important to note that the exact function of this twelve columned dome is unknown, but it
is likely that it may have been used for the viewing of troops. Thus we note the
emergence of a pattern; the royal residence overlooking the city, but not visually
dominating it. Instead a military symbol, a garrison tower encircled with lions, was used
172
Abouseif, “The Citadel of Cairo: Stage for Mamluk Ceremonial”, 36-7.
75
to project the image to the city. The location on the Northwestern tip of the Southern
enclosure probably enhanced this. The domed pavilion, overlooking the area in front of
the Iwan of al-Kamil also to be refurbished under Baybars and acquiring a new
monumental dome, probably possessed a ceremonial courtly function and may have been
constructed to accommodate the new architectural need for proper ceremonial
architecture; a task that the Iwan al-Kamil may not have fulfilled due to the fact that it
was an enclosed structure. It is my belief that this loose gathering of elements; the
prominent tower, royal residence, domed chamber and royal audience hall, would later be
integrated and refined by the Qalawunids, to reach its climax with al-Nasir’s overhaul of
this same area. The Iwan al-Kabir combined the features of the pavilion with that of the
audience hall; it is clear that the dynamic created by the ceremonial function of the
southern enclosure was a main component of the Iwan’s design.
The next structure, Qa’at al-Awamid, is attributable to al-Kamil and lies in the
transitional zone between the public and the private, on the edge of the original southern
enclosure wall, and may have acquired this semi-public nature to accommodate the need
of the Sultana, Shajjar al-Durr (Fig. 4.4).173 She is also credited with having added either
a dais or a dome, probably to add more majestic flair to the space. Baybars added another
dome supported by twelve columns, 174 as he used it for courtly ceremonial while his own
hall was being erected. 175 Baybars’s approach with this qa’a would be similar to the one
taken towards the Iwan of al-Kamil; the monumentalizing of existing structures while
new projects were underway.
173
Rabbat, Citadel, 94.
Ibid., 152.
175
Ibid., 94.
174
76
Separating the Southern enclosure from the Northern enclosure, Bab al-Qulla speaks
not so much of aggrandizing as it does of basic urban zoning. Since the Sultan required
that his Mamluks be kept close but separated by a gate for security reasons, and with the
Southern enclosure acquiring more of a domestic nature, the building of a gate became
necessary. 176 In a way this gate effectively “zoned” the Citadel by delineating the private,
public and semi-public zones. We will see how this pattern of zoning at the Citadel
continued to develop until the end of the Mamluk period, reaching its most177
“ceremonially conducive” zooming arrangement under al-Nasir.
Additionally, Baybars constructed a variety of maydans and hippodromes in and
around Cairo to accommodate his daily qabaq tournaments, following the pattern of the
Ayyubid Sultans and in direct response to his own personal inclination as well as the
need of his armies,. The grass-covered Maydan al-Zahiri at Bab al-Luq was constructed
on this reclaimed land due to its proximity to the Nile and its fertility.178 It also follows a
pattern of urban development within this area.179 The Maydan al-Qabaq at the Great
Cemetery, also known as the Maydan al-Aswad due to its dark topsoil, was also
constructed in a newly developing area and was reportedly surrounded by belvederes and
pleasure pavilions. Baybars also renovated the old Ayyubid maydan at the Citadel, the
Qaramaydan of al-Kamil.
The significance of tracking the construction of maydans under the various periods is
directly linked to the role these spaces played within urban ceremonial. The fact that they
eventually become starting points for ceremony, as at Raydaniyya, replacing other
symbols such as Bab al-Nasr, is reflective of the Sultan’s need to acquire their own nodes
176
Ibid., 110.
Ibid, 106.
178
Ibid, 105.
179
Ibid, 104.
177
77
of Mamluk ideologically charged spaces; in this case the ideology is that of a potent
militaristic corps of warriors expressed by the function of the hippodrome.
b. The Dar al-‘Adl Phenomenon and the Dar al-‘Adl al-Zahiriyya
As mentioned earlier in the patron profile, the Dar al-‘Adl phenomenon followed
closely the political and religious environment of its time. 180 The development of this
building type within 50 years of its inception as well as the role architecture would play
in the creation of the image of the Sultan as the just ruler speaks of an understanding on
the part of the Mamluk patrons of the potential of propagandistic architecture. Despite the
disappearance of all of these structures, textual sources leave us with sufficient
information to deduce the role that these structures played in the royal image. 181 A close
look at the sources and the various reconstructive efforts of scholars such as Rabbat is
sufficient to lend us a reasonable impression of what the intent of the builders at the
Citadel was. The essential role of the Dar al-’Adl as a visual symbol of adherence to the
shari’a, follows closely the rise of other similarly propagandistic devices such as the
additions to the Sultanic titulature.182
The first Dar al-’Adl in Cairo was constructed under al-Kamil, following the pattern
already established at both Aleppo and Damascus. Rabbat identifies a structure near Bab
al-Qulla, as described in the sources, as this Dar al-’Adl and suggests that it was possibly
not put into its full use as a Dar al-’Adl until the reign of al-Salih Najm al-Din Ayyub. 183
During the rule of Aybak, we see the mazalim sessions being moved to his madrasa in al-
180
Rabbat, “Ideological Significance”, 4.
Ibid., loc. cit.
182
Ibid., loc. cit.
183
Ibid., 11.
181
78
Qahira, while the actual structure became the residence of a dignitary. 184 This indicates
that this structure was probably designed to be a multipurpose hall and probably had not
developed any significant ceremonial features that would become associated with the Dar
al-‘Adls of the Bahri Mamluks.
The treatment that these structures received under their patrons is consistently
indicative of the patrons’ actual political might; the manner in which the Dar al-’Adl
sessions themselves were treated, whether moved to other non-distinct structures, placed
in a dominant and lavishly decorated structure or even canceled all together speaks loudly
of the manipulation of the patron’s image through the use of legitimizing ceremony as
well as the architecture that housed it. These structures seemed to have been a strong
indicator of rulership, and their associations augmented their founders and evidently
intimidated the new throne occupants.
Under Baybars the Dar al-’Adl as a physical structure would begin to acquire some of
the qualities that would be expanded and monumentalized under later Sultans. His Dar
al-‘Adl is significant for both its form and its location; Ibn Shaddad describes this Dar
al-‘Adl as being a canopy covered square mastaba enclosed within a fence in the center
of the court. This canopied structure apparently was placed in front of an already existing
structure which had been a Fatimid mausoleum. 185 This structure would later be referred
as the old Dar al-‘Adl and under al-Nasir was converted into a tablakhana,186 a practice
that apparently existed under Shajjar al-Dur in a similar location. Rabbat suggests a
possible location for this structure as the Dar al-Mahfuzat at the Citadel gate, between
Bab al-Silisila and Bab al-Mudarraj. 187
184
Ibid., 12.
Ibid., loc. cit.
186
Ibid., 12-13.
187
Ibid., loc. cit.
185
79
It is important to note the open nature of the structure constructed by Baybars for his
informal sessions as well as the presence of a dome (the mausoleum dome), since these
basic elements would be used in concept in the design of al-Iwan al-Kabir. We have no
way of knowing from the sources to what degree the Dar al-Adls of Qalawun and alAshraf Khalil were similar in concept, as far as openness was concerned, to that of
Baybars. It is also interesting that this structure was visible and accessible to the public,
used for surveying troops and almost belvedere-like. We will see how this function
moved into the confines of the Citadel as sultans became more concerned with their own
security and perhaps their urban image to boot.
The Dar al-‘Adl of al-Kamil, which was most likely on the same site as the later Iwan
al-Kabir of al-Nasir and has been attributed to al-Kamil by Rabbat is mentioned in the
account of the crowning of the Sultan Baybars and was probably a structure very similar
to the one at the Ayyubid iwan at Roda Island. The construction of this iwan at the
Citadel may have been symbolic of the desire of al-Kamil to move to the Citadel, despite
the fact that it was probably not used for elaborate ceremonial. Baybars added a dome to
this structure either as an addition to this structure or as a replacement. 188 The
significance of the fact that a dome was intentionally added to this structure speaks of
Baybars’s attitude to monumentalizing existing structures; a pattern that would be taken
to the next level by Qalawun by the possible demolition or addition to this structure under
a similar motivation. This is in addition to the fact that it had not yet been used as a Dar
al-‘Adl, but had a purely ceremonial function at this time. 189 We will observe under
Qalawun how the function of the Dar al-’Adl, with all its ideological weight, would be
188
189
Ibid., 13.
Ibid., loc. cit.
80
incorporated in the ceremonial context of the Iwan of al-Kamil; thus the image created by
Baybars by founding the Dar al-’Adl at the Maydan was taken up to the Citadel and
monumentalized for decades to come till it reached its climax under al-Nasir.
3. The Reign of Qalawun
During the Bahri period, one of the driving forces behind the continuous construction
activity at the Citadel was purely functional; the ever increasing number of mamluks and
their accommodation needs. This gave rise to the need not only for new structures, but
also for a more fully developed approach to zoning in general. 190 By the time Qalawun
had ascended the throne, the Citadel had already been set on its path by Baybars as far as
development and urbanization were concerned. Qalawun in turn would also set his own
trend for the structures at the Citadel by incorporating “new” elements reflective of the
ceremonial-urban dynamic, elements that would reach their full expressive potential
under his son, al-Nasir.
The significance of the Dar al-Niyaba, or house of the vice regent, lies in the approach
that Qalawun took regarding a single element that he added to its façade; a shubbak on
the ground level to accommodate the new ceremonial role that he assigned to his favored
vice regent, not unlike the monumental dome that Baybars before him added to the Iwan
of al-Kamil. The set up at Dar al-Niyaba holds striking similarities to the one described
earlier under the Fatimids in regards to the petition hearing by the Caliph; the vice-regent
made his appearance during official proceedings at this window while petitioners stood
190
Rabbat, Citadel, 140.
81
outside. In addition to this, the Dar al-Niyaba also had a manzara, with a mainly
ceremonial function of hadith reading, yet another echo of Fatimid palatial design. 191
Al-‘Umari describes this ceremony as being a miniature version of al-mawkib al-sultani.
192
Typologically, the shubbak can be seen as a subdued version of the sultanic pavilion of
Baybars. The addition of the shubbak was apparently so striking that it led contemporary
chroniclers to attribute the entire structure to Qalawun instead of Baybars.
The ceremonial functions, as well as the architectural modification made by Qalawun
had succeeded in leaving a significant impression on contemporary and later chroniclers.
193
The adding of the shubbak to this structure was in no way accidental; it is a clear
indication that the language of Cairene ceremonial architecture had been interpreted fully
by the Mamluks and was purposely borrowed and re-used appropriately. It is important at
this stage to point out the fact that the function of these re-used forms was kept intact
with this first example of Mamluk royal re-use. The role of the vice-regent in this
ceremony, as well as the architecture it inspired, would be relegated entirely to the
Sultanic domain with al-Nasir’s abolishing of the office of the vice regent early in his
third reign.194
The next structure of interest as far as the ceremonial-urban dynamic is concerned is
the Burj al-Mansuri built in 1283 (Fig 4.5). According to Rabbat’s reconstruction, this
structure probably existed on the site of the present Burj al-Wastani. 195 This tower, which
opened onto the main palatial complex, was apparently a lofty structure which
191
Ibid., loc. cit.
Ibid., 141.
193
Ibid., loc. cit.
194
Ibid., loc. cit.
195
Ibid., 143.
192
82
commanded a panorama of the city. 196 This huge tower with its mushtarafat, 197 or rooms
with views, can be seen as a development of the palace built by Baybars near Burj alSiba’a. Needless to say, such visually domination structures must have been striking
indeed to the point that building on top of towers was a strictly royal prerogative.
Qalawun began a pattern of some significance to our study by tearing down the
Qubba al-Zahiriyya, the main ceremonial structure of the Citadel, in 1286. This pattern of
tearing down and rebuilding the iwan was repeated three times, once under al-Ashraf and
twice under al-Nasir and was a phenomenon that will be elaborated upon later. The
structure built by Baybars and later torn down by Qalawun is described in the sources as
having had a central dome on arches with twelve columns surrounded by iwans on all
four sides. In typical one-upmanship style, Qalawun built a bigger and more elaborate
structure of a similar arrangement to replace that of his predecessor, a pattern repeated by
both his sons with the same structure as previously mentioned. Rabbat interprets this
phenomenon as a desire on the part of the patron to be the builder of the most
sophisticated and visually prominent structure at the Citadel. 198 It is also highly likely
that patrons looked for a more sophisticated and polished look for themselves and their
dynasty, possibly acquiring a new architectural vision for this setting that embodied their
own image. It is important at this point to emphasize that this structure still would have
had an urban impact since it would have probably been visible from both the maydan and
the southern section of Cairo. We will explore how this vista was later complicated by alAshraf and al-Nasir with the addition of their palaces and the possible role it may have
played in the architectural and zoning decisions at the Citadel. Rabbat suggests that it was
196
Ibid., 142.
Ibid., 141.
198
Ibid., 145.
197
83
under Qalawun that the Qubba al-Mansuriyya 199 acquired its role as the Dar al-Adl, 200 in
addition to its role as the main ceremonial hall for the reviewing of troops and other
courtly functions, such as iqta’ distribution and the reception of foreign embassies. 201 He
also suggests that the change in name from qubba to iwan resulted from a desire to avoid
confusion between Qalawun’s other qubba at Bayn al-Qasrayn. 202 The fact that this
structure was used of troop review suggests that it may have been an open structure,
similar to the earlier pavilion of Baybars and the Iwan al-Kabir. This merge of function
and building types is a brilliant manifestation of the workings of the Mamluk design
agenda.
4. The Reign of al-Ashraf Khalil
Following the death of his father after a long and prosperous reign, al-Ashraf Khalil
ascended the throne. He quickly turned his attention to the development of the Southern
enclosure of the Citadel. It is at the Citadel where we observe al-Ashraf’s most
impressive structures. His dynamic patronage became even more evident with the
identification of the structure that was formerly thought to be the Qasr al-Ablaq as the
Qasr al-Ashrafi.
Al-Qa’a al-Ashrafiyya, or al-Qasr al-Ashrafi, built in 1292, is one of few structures
not demolished by al-Nasir, which he put into use as his private throne room. 203 Located
199
This structure would later be known as the Iwan al-Mansuri in order to avoid confusion with this
patron’s other qubba at Bayn al-Qasrayn. See Rabbat, Citadel, 145.
200
Rabbat, “Ideological Significance”, 14.
201
Ibid., loc. cit.
202
Rabbat, Citadel 145.
203
Ibid., 150-1.
84
by Rabbat along the Western side of the Southern enclosure, this area previously known
as the Maison de Joseph204 was the location of two of al-Ashraf’s most important
projects; his qa’a and the Burj al-Rafraf (Fig 4.5). This qa’a seems to have been one of
the first examples of towering palatial structures at the Citadel raised above a basement of
vaults.205
Its exterior would have commanded a view of both the maydan and the stables and
though there is no detailed plans of this qa’a to date, it is likely that it would have
contained a structure very similar to that found at the Qa’at al-Awamid; a dome carried
on columns, 206 according to a sketch by Henry Salt accompanying Viscount Valentia’s
description of this qa’a. This sketch shows granite columns carrying four ablaq arches
which may have carried a wooden dome, but there is little archaeological evidence to
support this. Rabbat argues that the columns may have rested on stone slabs on the floor
of qa’a and thus no trace of column bases appears on the present site. By the end of the
Bahri period this structure had lost its role as an audience hall and had become the
quarters for the Amir al-Kabir. It would later be used as prison and a tibaq for Mamluks.
207
The Burj al-Rafraf as the third element of al-Ashraf’s ceremonial arrangement along
with his Qasr and Iwan reportedly had a monumental appearance and was used by the
Sultan while addressing his amirs, who stood outside the Citadel (Fig. 4.5). 208 Despite
reports of it being demolished by al-Nasir 1312, Ibn Taghribirdi reports that al-Nasir built
his Qasr al-Ablaq in the place of Burj al-Rafraf, a break in bond within the tower suggest
204
Ibid., 152-3.
Ibid., 150-1.
206
Ibid., 152-3.
207
Ibid., 150-1.
208
Ibid., 154.
205
85
that al-Nasir only demolished the actual rafraf and built his new tower with its rafraf next
to his brother’s tower. 209 It is important to note at this point that what was targeted for
demolition was not the tower itself but the most visibly prominent element of it; the
rafraf.
This follows the same pattern seen throughout this discussion; the erection and
demolition of rafrafs, shubbaks, pavilions and domes is indicative of a clear approach to
ceremonial architecture; a kind of territory marking with urban elements.210 It is also
important to note the connection between the simple shubbak of Qalawun at the Dar alNiyaba, which acted as a type of manzara, and the Burj al-Rafraf. They both achieved an
almost identical purpose, but the change in scale, architectural articulation and exposure
to the urban environment outside of the Citadel are all indications of a clear approach to
ceremonial design which would continue under al-Nasir. Together the qa’a, rafraf and
Iwan al-Ashrafi delineated the semi-public zones of the Citadel and can be compared in
turn to the arrangement under al-Nasir. 211
Al-Iwan al-Ashrafi was also described as being a high structure surmounted by a
dome, with representations of amirs with their indicated rank surrounding its walls in rich
mosaic decoration, not unlike that found at the Qa’a al-Ashrafiyya. This hall was used as
the main audience hall until it was demolished by al-Nasir in 1310. No other record
remains of the exact form of this structure, but an aspect of its decoration is highly
relevant to our discussion; mainly the use of images of the Sultan’s amirs. This use of the
images of amirs in a manner similar to how a princely cycle would be used had been
done before at the Qubba of al-Zahir, which showed the Sultan and his amirs in a
209
Ibid., 155.
Ibid., loc. cit.
211
Ibid., 156.
210
86
procession. 212 Qalawun also decorated his qubba with images of his castles and the lands
under his domain. When viewed together, the various programs of the Bahri Sultans
bring to the foreground an obvious common thread.
In the case of the castles of Qalawun and the procession of Baybars we see a symbol
for the stage that the Sultans set for themselves. For the Sultan to be seen in the setting of
his palaces (Qalawun), or in the context of his ceremonial role (Baybars and Al-Ashraf),
are both all indicative of a high awareness of the Sultanic image. Although this image
was displayed for a select public, it expressed an image of wealth, dominion, pomp and
ceremony. Maqrizi confuses the Iwan of al-Ashrafi with the Burj al-Rafraf, a fact
substantiated by him giving an exact description of the iwan under this incorrect
heading.213
5. The Evolution of the Ceremonial Vocabulary: Elements and Patterns
Throughout this discussion, I have tried to establish connections, not only in
approaches to zoning and general attitudes to ceremonial development, but also with the
main architectural features of the ceremonial halls of the early Bahri sultans. Several
architectural elements rise to the foreground; the dome carried on columns whether used
within structures or left freestanding, the monumental dome upon existing structures, the
shubbak-rafraf pattern as well as image-enhancing decoration whether on the exterior or
the interior (mosaic vs. stone carving of Baybars). The development of these elements
speaks of a general tendency to articulate and refine ceremonial vocabulary. The next
question that presents itself is, why these particular elements?
212
213
Ibid., 171.
Ibid., 170.
87
The symbolism of the dome is a well established tradition on more than one level. It
was a part of both Fatimid and Mamluk ceremonial insignia214 as well as an architectural
symbol of both secular greatness (qubbat al-khadra’) and religious authority. In Cairo
and the entire Dar al-Islam it also became a symbol of the burial of important figures, and
according to Rabbat this may have led these magnificent domed structures at the Citadel
to be labeled as iwans and not qubbas, for the term qubba had become mainly related to
funerary and not secular architectural expressions. 215
The general tendency of the early Bahri Sultans was obviously an appropriative one;
not only on the level of elements but on the level of general building arrangements. An
example of this would be the development of Qalawun and al-Ashraf at the Southern
enclosure; by taking Baybars’s concept of the Dar al-‘Adl and moving it up into the
Citadel and adapting the Ayyubid structure (the Iwan) and incorporating them together
into a single building type; a type that would reach even greater architectural
sophistication under al-Nasir.
Let me briefly return to the subject of mosaic decoration in order to make a final point
on the architectural ceremonial forms used at the Citadel. A mosaic decoration shows a
domed structure with large arched openings, evocative of the pavilion or manzara type
(Fig 4.6). 216 The iconography of the Bahri qa’a decorative program, as expressed under
Baybars (princely: hunting, furusiyya and processions), Qalawun (architectural
representations of his cities) and al-Ashraf (figural representations of amirs and
architecture) shows that architectural depiction was placed on a similar footing with other
214
The domed parasol was considered by the Fatimids as a sign of royalty.
The royal and monumental connotations of the term iwan are probably also why these ceremonial halls
became know as iwans: Iwan Kisra, etc... Rabbat, Citadel 145.
216
Rabbat, Citadel, 164.
215
88
royal symbols. Thus the image of their cities 217 was an aspect that the ruler desired to
have as part of his decorative program as it represented him just as his titles and rank
would have. Although the ultimate message of these programs was one of dominance, 218
the language was mainly architectural and decorative, and more importantly, decoration
depicting architecture. 219 Rabbat argues that these elaborate decorative programs were
strictly confined to royalty as we have no evidence of them in amirial structures,220 and
that the selection of the decorative program must have been the Sultan’s own choice. This
is indicative of its highly propagandist nature and the role it would have played in its
chosen setting.
6. Conclusions
In conclusion, the emerging patterns at the Citadel whether architectural, urban or
decorative, speak of a strong and aware appropriative approach. Just as they appropriated
ceremony and courtly function from Ayyubid, Fatimid and Seljuk traditions, so did they
with their architectural and decorative program. This phenomenon has been attributed in
part to an absence of their “strong and binding cultural tradition”, 221 their ingenuity lay
in how they modified their appropriations to suit their own, pre-determined agenda. Their
selections were not random; neither were their omissions. There was a conscious, clear
217
These images of cities represented the might of the sultan in acquiring lands under his name and these
images served to reinforce and remind people of this concept. Rabbat, “The Citadel of Cairo”, 169.
218
Rabbat, “The Citadel of Cairo”, 165-6.
219
Rabbat argues that the shift towards epigraphic representation may be indicative of the weakening of the
military aspect (thus no strong need for princely militaristic aspects) and the tending towards the literary
expression of upper class Egyptians and ulema, though perhaps it was an attempt to enhance an image of
piety: epigraphy would have been mainly Quranic or directly stating Sultanic titles. Rabbat, “The Citadel of
Cairo”, 179.
220
Rabbat, Citadel, 178.
221
Ibid., 179.
89
and consistently driven agenda, one that was capable of creating articulate architectural
and urban forms that would still be legible for centuries later.
Their architecture was also essentially a Cairene appropriation; this was necessary in
order to benefit from the strong visual memory inherent within the elements of Cairene
architecture: the manzara, the iwan, the arcaded dome, the shubbak and the rafraf. It is
within the context of ceremony that we see this appropriation acting itself out, perhaps
because of the rapid and personal nature of the secular-ceremonial structures.
In conclusion, Baybars, Qalawun and al-Ashraf made the Citadel functional; their
zoning of the public, semi-public and the private domains would only be fine tuned by alNasir.222 The analysis of the changes that the Dar al-‘Adls underwent, with the dominion
of each new ruler being expressed in his attitude to the Dar al-‘Adl, is proof that this
building type became an indicator of these rulers’ desire to augment their image.
Additionally, they set the ground for its aggrandizement by adding some monumental
structures of their own and adopting elements from the past that would be re-used even
more expertly under al-Nasir.
222
Ibid., 180.
90
Chapter Five
The Climax
The Ceremonial-Urban Dynamic during the
Reign of Sultan al-Nasir Muhammad b. Qalawun
1. The Dynastic Agenda: Politics and Architecture
The architectural and urban expressions of the early Bahri Mamluk Sultans expressed
aspects of political agendas that accommodated both the needs of each Sultan as well as
the needs for dynastic continuity. The reign of al-Nasir Muhammad, often seen as the
Golden Age of Cairene urbanism, exhibited this same phenomenon; the difference here
lay in the sophistication of both the political agenda and dimensionality of translation into
urban and architectural idioms, as shall be seen shortly. The genius of al-Nasir lay not
91
only in his individual acts of urban development or socio-political and economic
prowess, but in the very process of patronage. This phenomenon speaks of the
civilization process described at some lengths by Ibn Khaldun.223 To achieve this, the
sultan successfully played the role of the shrewd diplomat, administrator as well as
businessman. His interest in the development of relations with foreign countries for the
facilitation of trade would instigate the formulation of the final veneer of wealth and
pomp to the existing Sultanic architectural image of justice and power;224 one that would
merge to create the apogee of the architectural ceremonial expression. Although al-Nasir
can be seen as a medieval money mogul; with a finger in almost every single pie, his
good business sense and total control of the affairs of the state should not limit our
reading of his reign to a question of morality. Whether or not he was an ethical man
somehow does not enter into this equation. Despite contemporary sources describing their
Mamluk patrons as greedy and tyrannical, it is important to view the reign of al-Nasir
through the eyes of the Khaldunian ideal of the role of royal authority, with all its
unsavory side effects.
It is only natural that a serious investment in the promotion of a self image was in
order, if only for business reasons. The striking feature of the reign of al-Nasir, when
223
According to Ibn Khaldun, patronage and the spending it entails, becomes a role that royalty must
fulfill if communities are ever to reach hadarah, or civilization. It is thus inferred that extreme wealth is in a
way a prerequisite to civilization, for it is only with wealth that one can turn to the finery of life;
monumental architecture and arts included. See Ibn Khaldun, Muqaddima, 2:347. “The crafts and sciences
are the result of man’s ability to think, through which he is distinguished from the animals…[The sciences
and crafts] come after the necessities .The [susceptibility] of the crafts to refinement, and the quality [of
the purposes] they are to serve in view of the demands made by luxury and wealth, then correspond to the
civilization of a given country.”
224
Although one may argue that by the reign of al-Ashraf Khalil, this image had been successfully
achieved, it is undeniable that the form of the Iwan, as exemplified by the CGI, exhibits this phenomenon
in a more mature and striking manner. The sheer scale of the work of al-Nasir, if one can judge by
comparing the Qasr al-Ablaq to the Qa’a al Ashrafiyya, suggest that the iwans of his predecessors would
have been less dominating than his own.
92
compared to either his successors or predecessors, was the consolidation of power into
his own hands. The transfer of the Dar al-‘Adl out of the domain of the vice-regent and
into his own domain, along with the eventual abolition of the office of vice-regent
entirely, speak of a desire to be the sole possessor of power. What is of interest to us at
this point is how this phenomenon was reflected in his treatment of the buildings of Cairo
which represented his Sultanic authority, mainly those at the Southern enclosure which
acted as backdrop for the climax of his role as Sultan. Other acts such as the parading of
his amirs during lavish ceremonial, 225 competing against them in the various
hippodromes throughout Cairo or constructing palaces for them at the foot of his Citadel
seem also to have been symbols of his dominion and control.226Al-Nasir’s fervency in the
promotion and control of his amirs was undoubtedly attributable to his traumatic past and
his understanding of the importance of loyal and strong troops; a lesson he seems to have
learnt the hard way by being deposed twice.
It is clear at this point that the Sultan strived for a full personification of the typical
Islamic ruler of the time; it is also in this light that I interpret the architecture set in place
to express it. Additionally, I argue that this image, exemplified both by the Seljuk and
Ayyubid rulers, was partially modeled on a variation of the concept of the Caliphate, and
more specifically the Abbasid Caliphate. The image captured by the computer model and
which I have designated as the apogee of the ceremonial-urban expression (Fig. 5.1)
exhibits a ceremonial configuration to rival that of any royal city in the Dar al-Islam. It is
225
Rabbat, Citadel of Cairo, 185.
Al-Nasir actively strengthened his ties with his Mamluks, marrying them to his daughters and
promoting them through architectural patronage. An anecdote suggests that this was a cunning way of
sending a network of loyal female spies into the homes of his high ranking amirs.
226
93
tempting at a certain point, once all the layers are added up, to perceive Cairo almost as a
surrogate Baghdad.
In addition to al-Nasir’s nascent abilities as a ruler, his role as inheritor of his father’s
dynasty gave him the full momentum of its architectural legacy. As consolidator of the
Qalawunid Empire227 he monopolized on this legacy fully, both socio-politically and
culturally. His attitude in this regard was blatant; not only were his amirs required to
swear allegiance in front of his father’s tomb, he went on to expropriate the site
neighboring that of his father in order to construct his own madrasa. 228
Yet al-Nasir’s interest in Bayn al-Qasrayn became more subtle after this point; it
became obvious at this point that the new site of power was shifting further south towards
the Citadel, to the maydan of his predecessors. It is obvious that the scale of Bayn alQasrayn, as a Fatimid palatial saha for an elite royal entourage, was a self-limiting factor
in and of itself. What is striking is not only the speed by which both ceremony and
urbanism would shift to accommodate this, but whether or not the lack of space instigated
it. Nonetheless, it is likely that the shift to the maydan at the Citadel was a deliberate
decision on the part of al-Nasir.229 All his actions indicate a desire to strengthen the urban
pull of the Citadel; this interpretation is supported by his actions and also supports the
theory of the royal city.
Ceremonial and the Sultanic image were obviously two of the most important
regulators in the decision making process of construction under the Mamluks in general
and al-Nasir in particular. The articulation of areas of royal interest through architecture
227
Rabbat, Citadel, 186. Al-Nasir’s madrasa had initially been that of al-amir Kitbugha, but was forcibly
taken away once al-Nasir ascended for the thirds time; Kitbugha had been one of the usurpers of the throne
of Qalawun. The desire by both Kitbugha and al-Nasir to gain proximity to the complex of Qalawun is
obviously indicative of the same phenomenon; dynastic association.
228
Rabbat, Citadel, 186.
229
This is likely, since we know that after al-Nasir, investiture ceremonies no longer passed through Cairo.
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and ceremonial seems to be exhibited consistently in Cairo, and probably the entire
Islamic world, if not the world at large. An additional question here is not only the
existence of this phenomenon, but the workings of it. This chapter will deal with a
possible interpretation of this phenomenon; in hopes of shedding light not only on what
was on the agenda, but how it was implemented and by whom.
Al-Nasir’s interest in the Citadel and the area around it as well as the path leading to
it, falls neatly into the progression of urban development begun by his predecessors. It is
also not surprising that a Sultan with such an assertive political agenda would choose to
develop the secular, palatial zone of the Citadel. Additionally, al-Nasir sponsored and
controlled the expansion of Cairo, especially along the route of ceremonial (Fig. 4.1).
Under al-Nasir we see a flowering of congregational mosques to the south of Cairo and
rapid palatial development to the north of the Citadel.230 To organize the implementation
of this masterplan, he set up the Diwan al-Ama’ir which worked by the designation of
areas for amirial development for which he also supplied funds and resources.231 By the
end of his reign, the cumulative impact of his efforts was the creation of his own image of
the city; an image that had been incrementally developed since the reign of Baybars and
an image which was essentially Cairene.232
A final aspect of this Sultanic control was the fact that al-Nasir himself reportedly
supervised the work on the sites. 233 If we are able to establish the presence of a coherent
architectural agenda, collating perfectly with a personal political agenda of a far-sighted
and controlling Sultan, as well as establishing a precedent for direct involvement, we
230
Williams, “Urbanization and Mamluk Construction”, 35.
Rabbat, Citadel, 240.
232
The concept of the image of the city, as explained by Kevin Lynch, The Image of the City, speaks of the
phenomenon of urban success that comes about when a group of phenomenon act together to create a
cognitively successful mental picture, 2.
233
Rabbat, Citadel, 187.
231
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begin to paint a picture of royal patronage that has often been mentioned in the sources,
but has mainly been anecdotal.234 The deliberate and mindful nature of the development
of the Southern enclosure at the Citadel into two distinct phases gives us a rare glimpse
into the patron’s intent and suggests a possible re-interpretation for patron involvement
and its intended messages. Although al-Nasir approached his development one problem
at a time, he quickly developed a strategy which involved monumentality as a major
feature;235 the desire to turn the Citadel, essentially a fort, into a royal city would come
full circle by the end of the second construction period.236 In light of this, it becomes
necessary to interpret the phenomenon of the royal city of al-Nasir within the paradigm of
contemporary Islamic thought.
The ceremonial path of the major Sultanic ceremonies237 would typically start at Bab
al-Nasr with the procession moving all the way up to Bab Zuwayla, down Darb al-Ahmar
and up to the Citadel from Bab al-Silisila. It then continued up to the Iwan al-Kabir
where the Sultan and his retinue would banquet. 238 During al-Nasir’s reign and for the
rest of the Mamluk period, ceremonial was confined mainly to the Citadel and its
surroundings area and would later culminate not at the Iwan al-Kabir, but at the harem.239
The structures along this route obviously represented the Sultanic urban image, as has
been argued earlier, with the Citadel acting as a final climax. It is thus only fitting that the
types of structures chosen at the Southern enclosure would complement this. The path
also exhibits another interesting feature; from the Sultanic-religious structures of Bayn al234
Examples of this would be the involvement of Ibn Tulun in the design of his minaret, as well as alMansur’s involvement in the design of Baghdad.
235
By 1325 he had completed his first stage, only to return in 1333 to further monumentalize and
aggrandize.
236
Rabbat, Citadel, 187.
237
For a full description al-Nasir’s procession see Al-Maqrizi, Suluk, 1: 939-40.
238
Rabbat, Citadel, 238.
239
Rabbat, Citade, , 240.
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Qasrayn to the Amirial-religious and finally the Amirial-residential,240 we see a kind of
hierarchy leading all the way up to the Citadel; the culmination of this would of course be
the palace and Dar al-‘Adl of the Sultan. In a way these structures paint a picture in of
themselves; revealing the components of what the Sultan saw fitting as the architectural
prelude to his climax at the Citadel. Thus, the Sultan effectively zoned the ceremonial
path by using the existing urban potential to create a clearly felt progression of the
domain of the Sultan. 241 It is also worth noting that the most prominent and
architecturally fluent structures within the Amirial-religious segment of this path are the
mosques of al-Nasir Muhammad’s amirs; with the mosques of al-Maridani (1324-25), alMihmandar (1324-25) following in quick succession (Fig. 4.1). 242
From this analysis a certain pattern emerges; for Bayn al-Qasrayn as a formal royal
maydan of the Fatimids, in essence not unlike the maydan at the Citadel, had become a
center for religious architectural expression following its eclipse as a royal parade
ground. Even before the end of the Fatimid era, it acquired a religious monument with the
erection of al-Aqmar mosque. It is tempting to see a parallelism here between the
building of the mosque of Sultan Hasan on a royal maydan and the pattern which
occurred previously at Bayn al-Qasrayn. Another parallelism could be the madrasa of
Qalawun, which like Sultan Hasan, took over the site of the Western palace of the
Fatimids. These recurring patterns require further attention, if for no other reason than to
establish them as coincidences; on the other hand, their mere existence invites
speculation.
240
Rabbat, Citade, 238.
Rabbat, Citade,, 240.
242
Rabbat, Citadel, 240.
241
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A final quote by Sultan Qalawun drives home a fundamental tenet of al-Nasir’s ideals:
“All Kings are remembered by their wealth of monuments, and I have established
bastions to defend me, my progeny, and all Muslims, those are the Mamluks”243
It is interesting to observe how the son, disillusioned by the treachery of these socalled “bastions”, chose to seek protection and immortality beyond the Mamluks
themselves. Despite his investment in his corps of loyal mamluks, he was obviously
interested in establishing dominion through architecture. Buildings, after all, make better
allies.
The development of a variety of maydans throughout Cairo was an established
practice by the time al-Nasir ascended the throne and it would continue unabated for
several decades after him. Both al-Nasir, and later Sultan Faraj, invested in this urban
element; one that expressed the coalescence of the militancy of the warrior king and the
pomp of the Caliph of Islam. The maydans of al-Nasir, either constructed or maintained
by him, include the maydan at the Citadel (which he later encircled with a wall), the
Maydan al-Qabaq at the Northeastern cemetery, the Nasiri hippodrome at Garden City,
the maydan that occupied the site of modern day al-Tahrir square and finally the
hippodrome at his pleasure palace at Siryaqus (present day al-Khanqah).244 The function
of these spaces was essentially linked to the essence of the Mamluk persona as mentioned
previously. It allowed the Sultan and his amirs to project this image to the people and
reasserted the population’s faith in their abilities to defend the umma. Additionally, great
pomp and wealth were main features of such public events and like the Fatimids before
243
244
Rabbat, Citadel, 139.
Stowasser, “Manners and Customs at the Mamluk Court”, 19.
98
them; this was intended to endear both the amirs and the men of the pen to the Sultan by
the bestowing of bounty in the form of robes of honor and weaponry.
The urbanization that later sprang up around many of these maydans, be they
residences of amirs or sultanic complexes, is another facet of the phenomenon of
urbanism following the “memory” of power. The events that unfolded at Bayn alQasrayn, a royal parade ground turning into a focus point for ceremony and sultanic
burial is seen re-enacted at the Northeastern cemetery. The striking feature here is how
consistent the pattern seems to have been and how its manifestations seem to have
accelerated somehow; the time span between the change in the role of Bayn al-Qasrayn
and the change in the role of the Maydan al-Qabaq at the Northeastern cemetery suggests
what can only be referred to as acquired urban experience. The shift in the path of
ceremony to include the Northeastern Cemetery, forming a closed loop, was probably the
cause of this. It is likely that the erection of early Sultanic burial complexes on this site
was motivated by the desire for baraka, yet it was the proliferation of these structures
which attracted the ceremonial paths and further Sultanic patronage.
The re-occurrence of urban patterns suggests two possibilities; either this experience
was assimilated by decision makers or these patterns somehow repeat themselves for yet
unknown reasons. Both interpretations are of some interest, but a more in-depth study of
the phenomenon throughout the Islamic world is necessary before any broad conclusions
can be drawn.
These urban and architectural arrangements, re-emerging decades later, seem to be
following some kind of pattern. I will attempt an interpretation of these self-perpetuating
architectural ceremonial elements and urban patterns in an attempt to interpret further the
99
workings of the design agenda. As far as the architectural elements are concerned, the
rafraf-type structures of the Bahris atop the towers of the Citadel as well as the pavilionlike structures of the Mamluks (from Baybars’s manzara to al-Nasir’s Iwan) seem to
constitute the basis for the ceremonial urban language.245
One of the possibilities for the agenda of al-Nasir and his predecessors seems to have
been the creation of a royal city using the existing urban language and layout. Evidence
of this can be seen in the various pleasure palaces set up in the suburbs of Cairo, be they
amirial palaces or pleasure pavilions, of which none remain. The majority of these
structures tended to lie on the banks of lakes or the river Nile, a pattern already observed
during the Fatimid period. Under the Fatimids they also tended to be located on elevated
areas to the North of Cairo246 and this pattern was continued in a more elaborate fashion
under the Mamluks, by the construction of palaces in the Northern sections of Cairo, such
as the palace at Siryaqus.247 Accordingly, it likely that the Fatimid belvedere or manzara,
an element of royal secular architecture borrowed from the Abbasids,248 may have been
reintroduced to the general public as a strictly royal symbol and was reintroduced in the
form of the suburban pleasure palace.
The construction of the complex at Siryaqus in 1323 seems to have been a
manifestation of the political stability Egypt enjoyed under al-Nasir.249 In fact, al-Nasir
was one of the few Mamluk Sultans who regularly left the confines of the Citadel,
another indication of not only the increased security he must have felt but also an
245
This will also include the mysterious arcaded structure protruding from the Northern wall of the
Khanqah of Faraj b. Barquq in the Northeastern cemetery and its relation to ceremonial saha before it.
246
GET source from paper.
247
Al-Nasir initiated trips or sarhas to Siryaqus, similar to the simat tradition, to keep eye on Mamluks.
Rabbat, Citadel, 232-34.
248
Reda, “The Manzara”, 80.
249
Following the elimination of major threats to the safety of the umma, trade and the economy in general
saw additional prosperity.
100
indication of a desire to make the city his own. His desire to experience the city which he
obviously spent a great deal of time and effort planning for certainly is to be expected. 250
The complex comprised of a polo ground, a congregational mosque with an attached
khanqah, a water way and a market. These elements were supposedly set in place in order
to encourage larger urban development in the vicinity. The decision to construct this
complex was mainly to formalize what had been informal for decades; mainly the
Sultanic hunting excursions and the accompanying banqueting and celebration. 251 In this
we see a parallel with the palaces of early Islam. Qasr al-Hayr al-Gharbi and al-Sharki
not only possess similarities in function but also in location away from urbanization.
Sadly, nothing remains today of al-Nasir’s complex but it would not be hard to imagine
that due to the addition of a mosque, khanqah, market and water provisions, the intent
may have been the creation of a small node of urban development; one that could be
controlled entirely by the Sultan and whose profits would filter directly into his own
purse. The inclusion of a khanqah for Sufis is also an interesting phenomenon shared by
another Northerly development; the Northeastern cemetery. In the case of Siryaqus, the
placing of a khanqah was a deliberate decision on the part of the Sultan and may have
been intended to attract urbanism, in the latter case the appearance of the khanqah as a
predominant building type was a product of both existing conditions on the site, the
burial of holy men, and the general religio-political tides of the time. The SiryaqusNortheastern cemetery connection suggests that it is possible that al-Nasir had observed
the early development of the Northeastern cemetery and noted the potential of the
khanqah as an urban magnet; in fact his wife had specifically requested to be buried
250
251
Rabbat, Citadel, 232-34.
Rabbat, Citadel, 232-34.
101
there. 252 It may be likely that a man of such mental sophistication and awareness of urban
patterns may have attempted to replicate the same phenomenon at Siryaqus. The tradition
of the sarha to Siryaqus was later dropped by Barquq and it has been suggested that the
reason for this was to signify dynastic change, 253 a fact contradicted by Barquq’s desire to
reinstate a connection to the house of Qalawun by ordering the mazalim sessions to
continue in the Dar al-Adl of al-Nasir.
Under Qalawun the Dar al-‘Adl moved into the Citadel and became more elaborate
in both form and profile. The great iwan of al-Nasir signaled the end of the structures as
prominent symbols of Sultanic justice, not surprisingly from this point onwards justice
sessions were held in palatial halls.254 Moreover all patronage of ceremonial architecture
as well as actual processions also ceased at this point. The Burji period exhibited brief,
yet highly indicative spurts of ceremonial activity and more importantly, followed the
same rise and fall of the desire for a Sultanic image for predominantly political reasons.
Despite their might, the Mamluk rulers ultimately sought popular acceptance.
Mazalim sessions are ample evidence and can be seen along with their active patronage
of religious institutions and the religious elite as a completion of their image of
righteousness. 255 It is also important to note that early in their rule, they patronized
popular religion (Sufism) as fervently as institutionalized madarasas. 256 This
phenomenon is probably what inspired the fiery piety we see in the construction at Bayn
al-Qasrayn and may also have motivated the logic of appropriation behind the Iwan alKabir.
252
Williams, “Urbanization and Mamluk Construction”, 38.
Rabbat, Citadel, 232-34.
254
Rabbat, , “Ideological Significance”, 18.
255
Rabbat, “Ideological Significance”, 20.
256
Ibid, loc. cit.
253
102
The high point of this expression under al-Nasir, with its balance of military prowess
and political-diplomatic maneuvering saw Egypt flourish and the umma protected. 257 AlNasir’s tactics and ability to just stay on the throne for so long speak of a deep-seated
understanding of Mamluk society, basic human psychology and a heightened awareness
of the tools needed to stay on that throne. It is not surprising to see a mature ceremonialurban link manifest itself under such a rule, a link reminiscent of the reign of al-Amir.
The motto “A just ruler is a legitimate ruler” can be linked to the Mamluk concept of
“prevailer rules”, in this case the prevailer being he who overcomes injustice and protects
through a sense of justice and might. 258 The image of the Sultan was ultimately that of a
“propagandist, pious and just” 259 ruler; the importance of this image to the Sultan
instigated an appropriative system that created architecture reflective of this ideal. The
workings of this system and the elements it re-assimilated will be our focus from this
point onwards.
The complete picture that the previous arguments paint is the rise of the persona of alNasir as the ultimate strategist; a man of vision who had the foresight and means to create
an image for his city which I tentatively suggest at this point may have resorted to the
early Islamic palace-city ideal, along with its ceremonial urban language, as a source for
his own royal complex .260 The establishment and finding of Diwan al-Ama’ir, the
designation of land use by the creation of the amirial ahkar, and most importantly, the
development of the Citadel as a palatial enclosure, create the profile of a true urban
257
Ibid., 21.
Ibid, loc. cit.
259
Stowasser, “Manners and Customs”, 13.
260
The connection between Cairo and the royal structures of the Umayyad caliphate at Damascus has strong
precedent and so this is possible. Both Baybars and Qalawun renovated the Great Mosque of Damascus,
bringing the tradition of mosaic decoration to Cairo, as mentioned previously.
258
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mastermind; one with not only the financial means but the cultural, social and religious
awareness to make it a reality.
2. Ceremonial and the Sultanic Image
Al-Nasir Muhammad brought the Qalawunid architectural dynastic expression to its
climax with his developments throughout Cairo, whether through direct patronage or by
encouraging his amirs to do so by delineating areas for urban development and supplying
funds for their growth. He was aided in these efforts by his own personal abilities as a
shrewd and able politician, administrator and entrepreneur.261 His development of the
Citadel speaks of a deliberation and awareness of the future role of the Southern
enclosure. The erection of water wheels to accommodate the added structures, 262 the
enlarging of the maydan and the addition of a wall to further articulate its boundaries as a
ceremonial space which separated the hippodrome and stables from the horse market that
was probably accessible to the general public all attest to this ( Fig. 5.2 and 5.3). 263 The
development of the amirial residences at the foot of the Citadel was also intended to act
as a buffer zone running along the North-South axis between the Citadel and the city.264
In this light, the intentions of al-Nasir become obvious; to outline, clarify and provide
services for his new vision.
Towards the middle of his reign he succeeded in consolidating power almost
completely into his own hands; a political strategy that is also reflected in his urban
strategies. Accordingly, the strategy of al-Nasir at the Southern enclosure of the Citadel
was mainly related to sultanic ceremony, with elaborate articulation of sultanic secular
261
Rabbat, Citadel, 192.
Ibid., 199.
263
Rabbat, Citade, 194.
264
Rabbat, Citadel, 194.
262
104
life in general and mazalim sessions in particular.265 The intentional development that this
type of ceremony and the unique building type which housed it underwent not only fits
within the socio-political environment of its time,266 with justice becoming a vital part of
any patron’s image,267 but also links our monument with a powerful politically driven
urban agenda. It is in this light that I will be interpreting the ceremonial saha at the
Citadel in an attempt to delineate more clearly not only the manifestations of this agenda,
but also the workings of the ceremonial-architectural expression.
Al-Nasir’s scheme for the development of a Sultanic palatial-ceremonial complex
within the Citadel of Cairo was achieved in two distinct phases; by the end of the first
phase, the most important structures had already been erected, the Qasr al-Ablaq, the
mosque, the Iwan al-Kabir and thr Burj al-Rafraf. The second construction phase was
obviously aimed at the aggrandizement of existing structures, with both the Iwan and the
mosque being rebuilt as higher, more lavish structures with identical domes described in
the sources as qubbat al-khadra’; a designation that has caused some controversy in the
scholarly field, as explained below. Other existing structures were also restored, such as
the Ayyubid Qa’at al-Awamid, the harem and the old Dar al-‘Adl of Baybars, which was
turned into a tablakhana. It is worth nothing that al-Nasir’s attention seems to have been
directed almost entirely towards structures which fulfilled a ceremonial function; in the
first phase he built or rebuilt the most important ceremonial structures, mainly a palace
and a Dar al-‘Adl and in the second phase he monumentalized the structures of the
southern enclosure and invested in other ceremonial structures at the Citadel.
265
Early in his reign, al-Nasir decides to supervise Dar al-Adl session himself, thus stripping away
additional power from the vice regent, an office he would later cancel completely. He obviously wanted
this role to be associated with himself, along with the architecture which represented it.
266
For a detailed explanation of this building type in light of the political environment of the time under the
Ayyubids and early Mamluks, see Rabbat, “Ideological Significance”.
267
Ibid., 193.
105
In conclusion, it has become apparent that the Sultan al-Nasir ascended the throne
with a determined political agenda; architecture became a manifestation of its
implementation as both ends and means. As a result, the Sultan’s new role as a main
player in the Dar al-‘Adl sessions and his obvious desire to house this activity in an
elaborate and monumental structure should be seen as two faces to the same coin. Most
importantly, the scale of this new iwan compared to those of his predecessors speaks of a
desire to be seen; to acquire an almost iconic quality.
3. The Southern Enclosure at the Citadel of Cairo
During this period he also tore down the rafraf of al-Ashraf Khalil, which stood at the
top of the Western tower of the Citadel (Burj al-Rafraf) (Fig. 5.4). He added a new tower
next to the existing one and added new rafrafs to both towers. Al-Nasir’s acts can be
compared somewhat to the actions of Baybars with his construction of his Burj al-Siba’a,
further to the North and also along the Western wall of the Citadel. Al-Nasir, like
Baybars, also erected his Qasr al-Ablaq next to his towers, overlooking both the Maydan
and the Western section of Cairo. It is important to pause for a moment and take a closer
look at this dynamic. Where Baybars had conducted his mazalim sessions in the maydan
itself, in a relatively humble structure, with his palaces overlooking the Northern Western
section of the city we find al-Nasir erecting his palace to overlook the same Maydan but
oriented more towards the new developments of Cairo and his new Maydan (Fig. 5.4). In
turn, the mazalim sessions moved not only out of the maydan, but right into the private
domain of the Sultan himself.
106
It is in this light that the southern enclosure should be seen; obeying a deliberately
planned agenda attempted not once, but twice, in order to satisfy the vision of the
ultimate Sultanic ceremonial setting. The evolution in the ceremonial structures of the
Bahri Mamluks, their placement, decoration, scale and architectural treatment from the
reign of Baybars till the reign of al-Nasir exhibit not only a fascinating level of
architectural response to the forces of ceremony but also point to the forces of each
Sultan’s political agenda.
a. Al-Iwan al-Kabir: An Analysis
By the time al-Nasir ascended the throne for the third time, he had not only learnt
valuable lessons that would affect him as a politician but he seems to have acquired an
articulate strategy for urban development in general, and for royal secular development in
particular. His development of the Southern enclosure took place in two construction
periods and would span several decades; one of his first acts as Sultan was to tear down
his brother’s Dar al-‘Adl; the Iwan al-Ashrafi,268 possibly due to a variety of reasons
given in the sources. The most popular speaks of how the Sultan, disliking the gloom of
the old interior, decided to create a structure that did not feel so ominous. Another
interpretation was also related to the Sultan’s psyche but had little to do with poor
lighting. It is recorded in the sources that images of the amirs who had conspired against
the Sultan in his first depositions as a child and young man lined the walls of the Iwan alAshrafi.269 This structure may have generally reminded him of his first two reigns and
their humiliations, pictures and all. It is not hard to imagine a young and confident ruler,
268
The attitude of al-Nasir towards his brothers iwan followed this established pattern with perhaps one
exception; his desire to actively participate in the mazalim sessions in this same structure, during his first
two reigns this had been the duty of the vice-regent. Rabbat, “Ideological Significance”, 14.
269
Rabbat, Citadel, 191.
107
returning for the third time to his rightful throne, wishing to establish himself as the new
power at the Citadel by rebuilding the most visually prominent element within it. What is
important to understand from this dynamic is the fact that the Sultan was obviously
actively involved in the decision-making process.
During the construction of his new iwan, he decided also to rebuild the existing
mosque. Arranged around a vast court with a pond,270 the mosque and the Iwan acted
together to create the ceremonial hub of Cairo (Fig. 5.1). In 1333-34, al-Nasir
monumentalized both the iwan and mosque in his second phase of construction at the
Citadel.271 The creation of a new open space in front of the mosque was planned to
accommodate the new ceremonial function of the mosque as well as to accommodate the
new functions at the new Dar al-‘Adl. 272
During this period al-Nasir aligned the walls of the iwan with the walls of the
mosque,273 raised both structures to comparable heights, added domes of greater size to
both, embellished the interior with fine decorations and inscriptions and even used the
same type of recycled ancient Egyptian columns in the interiors of both structure (Fig
5.5).274
What is striking about this is the fact that the patron himself 275 chose to visually
strengthen a secular structure, related to his own pomp and majesty, by associating it with
the architectural language of a mosque (Fig 5.6 & 5.7). This is significant not only as a
270
Ibid, 191.
Idem, “Ideological Significance”, 13.
272
Rabbat, Citadel, 226-7.
273
Ibid., 247.
271
274
A recent collapse in the paving in front of the Mosque of al-Nasir, revealed a section of the wall of the Iwan alKabir. See CGI for further details of this desire for homogeneity in the ceremonial saha on the level of the plan as well
as spatially.
275
Several historical records attest to the presence of the Sultan al-Nasir on site and his direct involvement with both
the decorative program and possibly the monument layout of this saha. See Rabbat, The Ideological Significance of
Dar al-Adl.
108
manifestation of a more mature ceremonial-architectural expression, but also presents us
with a truly rare occurrence in the Islamic world of the 14th c of this unusual
phenomenon.276
This phenomenon, passed over by historians as unremarkable, may present us with
further insight into patron intent and the ceremonial-architectural design agenda. The
general trend of al-Nasir to aggrandize and lend a more mature, dynastic stamp to the
entire semi-public royal complex, reflected in his first and second rebuilding of the
mosque and the Iwan,277 speaks of a desire to be the patron of the most visible element at
the Citadel, one that could not easily be torn down and rebuilt. This pattern may possibly
be linked with al-Nasir Hasan’s later attempts to create a religious structure of
monumental and ceremonial scale that could not be torn down but reflected the same kind
of qualities that these iwans did.
Beginning with Baybars’s purely functional structure at the foot of the Citadel, to the
Qubba al-Mansuriyya or Iwan al-Mansuri and up to the Iwan al-Ashrafi, we see a
consistent pattern of patron interest in the development of this particular building type.
Additionally, this dynamic of demolishing and rebuilding the iwan relates to the role this
structure played in the creation of the Sultanic image as a visual symbol of justice, but
more importantly, as a symbol of the Sultan’s might to implement the justice he hands
down. Although the three Sultans preceding al-Nasir invested heavily in construction at
the Citadel in general, it was al-Nasir who formulated the architectural arrangement that
would bring the setting at the ceremonial-royal enclosure to its final image-reinforcing
apogee.
276
Contemporary as well as later empires express clear separation in their religious and secular ceremonial expression.
277
Rabbat, “Ideological Significance”, 13.
109
As the arguments above suggest, the interior experience of the Iwan al-Kabir was one
of awe and majesty. The massive granite columns, with the name of the Sultan inscribed
upon them,278 together with the entire interior proportions created an unmistakably
monumental effect (Fig. 5.5).The decorative program relied mainly on broad, elaborate
inscription bands with large, gilded characters, wrapping around the inner square under
the dome. These bands probably displayed the titles of al-Nasir and the foundation
inscription as well as Quranic verses. A similar arrangement can be seen on the exterior
of the iwan as well (Fig. 5.8). The scale of decoration was also vast, and this is probably
attributable to the desire to impress.279 I believe the scale of writing may also have been
related to the importance of the content of its message, an issue to be elaborated on
shortly.
The back wall of the iwan contained the Sultanic doorway, through which the Sultan
passed to his inner palaces. This doorway is remarkable due to the fact that it looks like a
typical Mamluk outer gate, complete with mastabas which are not shown in this model.280
This door can be seen as one of the gates to the private quarters of the Sultan, and the
articulation of the iwan’s inner façade as an exterior surface directs us towards an
alternative interpretation for the architectonic meaning of the iwan. In this sense, the iwan
acts as a sort of terrace or pavilion to an existing palatial complex. The fact that the inner
doorway of the iwan is similar to a typical Mamluk exterior entrance suggests a very
interesting aspect of the iwan; it was almost as if it was intended as an exterior pavilion;
connected to a larger structure.281 This quality of the iwan, as clarified by the various
278
Rabbat, The Citadel, 249.
Ibid, 252.
280
Ibid., 248.
279
281
This is echoed again at the mysterious arcades outside the Khanqah of Faraj at the Northeastern cemetery. What is
striking about this connection is the fact that they tie our tow occurrences of architectural adaptation to ceremonial, but
one occurred within a purely secular context while the other occurred in a purely religious one, with both overlooking
110
shots of the model, is an indication of a possible architectural precedent or inspiration for
the iwan appropriative agenda, as shall be seen shortly.
An additional aspect of the iwan was the manner in which the space was used during
the mazalim sessions and other ceremonies. It is reported that the Sultan sat on a cushion
below a marble minbar,282 which acted as his throne in cases of investiture or other
courtly ceremony such as foreign embassies (Fig. 5.5).283 The arrangement of dignitaries
followed the space defined by the dome, with the judges and court officials standing in a
circle before the Sultan.284
It is clear at this point that the Iwan al-Kabir was designed to be a structure to act on
more than one level and perhaps the most important impact it would have had would
have been as a dominant mass on Cairo’s skyline. The message that the Iwan represented
was one that needed publicizing and it is plain at this point that the medium for this was
ceremonial architecture. It is not surprising then to see convincing evidence of direct
patron involvement; exhibited by the careful placing of the iwan within the complex, the
adaptation of the scale and dome size for a dramatic visual effect and the large, gilded
inscription band. This effect can be felt by the few 19th c. sketches remaining as well as
the computer model (Fig. 5.9 & 5.7).
b. Al-Iwan al-Kabir: The Meaning of the Whole as an Iconographic Sum of its Parts
Both the Iwan al-Kabir and the Mosque of al-Nasir Muhammad supposedly possessed
green domes, according to the translation of the term qubbat al-khadra’ used in the
sources to describe them (Fig. 5.1).285 This has been an issue of controversy, with the
sahas with a ceremonial (courtly and military) function.
282
Ibid., 252.
Idem., “The Ideological Significance of Dar al-Adl”, 15.
284
Ibid., 16.
285
Rabbat, “Mamluk Throne Halls”, 204.
283
111
exact meaning of the term qubbat al-khadra’ being contested by scholars such as
Jonathon Bloom. In his article on the iconography of height, Bloom286 explains that the
term al-khadra’ from an etymological perspective does not, in fact, refer to the color
green at all, but possesses a metaphorical connotation of celestialism. Rabbat, on the
other hand, disagrees. 287 He argues that although this interpretation may be likely for the
early period of Islam, he believes that by the Mamluk period the term was used for actual
green domes.288 There is no precedence for tiled masonry domes in Cairo, the most
prominent example being that of al-Ghuri, a masonry dome constructed almost a century
later, Rabbat’s interpretation would help explain the sudden appearance of this green
dome on al-Ghuri’s complex. To add to the confusion, Maqrizi,289 does not use the term
al-khadra’ at all, but instead describes the dome twice as being jalīla (majestic) and
fasīha (vast); but never green.290
Assuming that the domes of both the mosque and Iwan were green, they would have
been the first of their kind in Cairo; they surely would have warranted consistent
descriptions in all the sources.
A further twist may be added to the tale if one is to look more carefully at the full
context of this contested green dome. Not only is there green faience on the bulbs of both
minarets of the mosque, but the inscription band wrapping around its interior face may
help shed light on this dilemma. Existing prints suggest the presence of the following two
286
Bloom, “The Iconography of Height, 136.
Rabbat, “Mamluk Throne Halls”, 204.
288
Ibid., 204. Rabbat acknowledges the arguments over the meaning of Qubbat al-Kadra’(Rabbat, 1995b, p.258-9),
287
yet still insists on the presence of actual green domes; despite the clarity and persuasiveness of Bloom’s arguments for
a symbolic meaning, based on the etymology of the term.
289
Maqrizi, Khitat, 48.
Maqrizi, Khitat, 2:206. Also, Ibn Shahin al-Zahiri, Zubdat kashf al-mamālik wa bayan al-turuq wa-l
masālik, ed. Paul raviasse (Paris 1894), 26 and Ibn Iyas, bada’i al-zuhūr fi waqa’i al duhūr, (Cairo 1982)
5:441.
290
112
verses;291 repeated on the exterior as well as on the interior both of which possess strong
celestial undertones.292
“It is Allah who has created the heavens and the earth and sent down rain from the
skies, and with it has brought out fruits wherewith to feed you; it is he who has made
ships subject to you, that they must sail through the seas by his command; and the rivers(
also has He made subject to you(33) And He has made subject to you the sun and the
moon, both diligently pursuing their courses; and the Night and the Day He (also) made
subject to you.”293
A second interesting undertone present in these verses is that of basic divine power; in
this verse Allah, as the great benefactor, is represented triumphantly on a monument
which is essentially a testament to the power of a single man, the Sultan. This desire to
affirm the Sultanic role with the divine order cannot be elaborated on further at this point,
but it is important to note it now since it will relate to other similar expressions of this
phenomenon. A final consideration that should be taken into account as a conciliatory
approach is the possibility that al-Nasir may have possibly built actual green domes in
order to reinforce the concept of qubbat al-khadra’ and benefit from its powerful royal
connotations; thus leaving nothing up to chance. His desire to create a node for his royal
city could have encouraged him to use a literal interpretation of an exclusive Caliphal
symbol. The replication of Baybars’s Qasr al-Ablaq of Damascus by al-Nasir at the
Citadel of Cairo suggests that it is not unlikely that he may have also wished to borrow
other secular expressions from other dynasties; especially one as powerful as the qubbat
al-khadra’.
291
See Appendix.
Rabbat, Citadel, 250.
293
Holy Quran, 14:32-33.
292
113
What is important at this point to address is the unifying thread in all the arguments
above; mainly the strong royal and celestial connotations of the term qubbat al-khadra’.
The fact that both the mosque and the iwan were described in most sources as possessing
these qubbas, a symbol connected not only with the earliest rulers of Islam and the Dar
al-Imara in Damascus but also with the Dar al-Imara in Baghdad, is evidence of the
possibility of a power dynamic being manifested within the ceremonial enclosure of alNasir and expressed with great virtuosity and subtlety through the architectural
ceremonial expression.
The configuration at the Iwan al-Kabir with the vast dome on columns and the interior
muqarnas gateway could easily have been present in any pre-Mamluk royal
configuration, whether Umayyad, Fatimid or Ayyubid; all used similar architectural
ceremonial arrangements (Fig. 5.10). Yet what makes the Iwan unique is not only its
freestanding, pavilion-like nature, overlooking Cairo but also a rather enigmatic, though
seemingly unremarkable feature of its interior; the marble minbar of the Sultan (Fig. 5.5).
It is the presence of this minbar, coupled with the spatial experience presented by the
Iwan, that present us with a very intriguing question; could the interior spatial
arrangement of the Iwan al-Kabir have any precedent in the Dar al-Islam, a precedent
lying along the same lines as the qubbat al-khadra’? A possible answer can be found in
the following description of a similar mazalim session presided over by the Umayyad
Caliph, Mu’awiyya, held in none other than the maqsura of the great mosque of
Damascus.
“Coming out [the Caliph] would ask a page to have his kursi ready and he would go to
the mosque. After his ablutions he sat on the kursi, leaning back against the maqsura,
114
with his guards standing by. Anybody could come to him, poor people, Arabs from the
desert, women, children, and whoever else was destitute. To the one who complained
about an injustice, Mu’awiyah would order comfort. To the oppressed he sent guards. To
the injured he would order an inquiry.”294
There are several points from this description that can be deduced; the presence of the
kursi, which is interpreted by Grabar as being an actual backless throne reserved only for
the Caliph, can be seen represented at the Iwan in a larger, more refined “Islamic”
fashion as a marble minbar. The configuration of the guards at the iwan follows a pattern
similar to the one described here. The sum of this evidence argues for the possibility that
the maqsura dome, already established as an early Islamic precedent for the Dar al-Adl,
may have been one of the many typological models for the final form of the Iwan alKabir. Further evidence of this lies in the fact that during the second construction phase,
the Sultan ordered that the interior façade of the mosque be identical to that exterior
façade of the Great Iwan (See Model). In addition to this, both structures were raised to
be of comparable height. Is it possibly that al-Nasir rearticulated an older pattern of
Islamic royalty; by merging elements of ceremonial that expressed both religious and
secular authority? This is all in addition to the fact that under the Fatimids and
specifically at the mosque of al-Hakim in Cairo, the maqsura dome witnessed the courtly
functions that took place before and after the Caliph’s Friday sermon, so it is not entirely
necessary to go as far back as the Umayyads.295 In this light it is not at all surprising to
find that the Description de l’egypte scholars also refer to this experience when they draw
parallels between the iwan and the great mosque of al-Hakim.296 The computer model
294
Grabar, Ceremonial and Art at the Umayyad Court, 22.
Sanders, Ritualizing the City, 36.
296
Descriptions de l’egypte, 230.
295
115
also helps us imagine the spatial experience and aids in our attempt to examine the
connection between the maqsura dome, both symbolically and functionally a possible
ceremonial entity, and the Dar al-Adl of al-Nasir (Fig. 5.11).
c. The Palace: Qasr al-Ablaq
The Qasr al-Ablaq, or striped palace, was the final structure in al-Nasir’s ceremonial
trio at the Citadel’s southern enclosure. It can be seen as the intermediary zone between
the semi-public areas of the Iwan and the private quarters of the Harem. Its exact location
has been re-evaluated by Rabbat following his designation of the formerly known Qasr
al-Ablaq as the Qa‘a al-Ashrafiyya. 297 Agreeing with the findings of Casanova, he based
his reconstruction on two fundamental points; firstly, he was able to relate inscriptions
from the qa‘a with Sultan al-Ashraf Khalil, based on the development of his titulature, 298
as well as making the connection with the ruined vaults described by Maillet as the “vast
hall with many windows overlooking the city”. 299
The reconstructed qasr, based on the site of the ruined vaults and al-‘Umari’s
description of the Qasr led Rabbat to suggest a schematic arrangement for the series of
qa‘as 300 that made up the Qasr (Fig. 5.12).301 I have based my own reconstruction on this
297
Rabbat, Citadel of Cairo, 209.
Rabbat, Citadel of Cairo, 202.
299
Rabbat, Citadel of Cairo, 211.
300
Rabbat argues that from the textual sources we may conclude that since the qa‘as of Qasr al-Ablaq all
faced the same direction, were entered from the same corridor and their northwestern facades overlooked
the city, this meant that they all must have been in a row. Rabbat, Citadel of Cairo, 205.
301
On the side of the Iwan al-Kabir is a passageway to the door of the Qasr al-Ablaq followed by a small
court where the amirs intimate with the sultan sit before they enter the qasr for the court service.
From the door of the qasr one passes through corridors to a monumental qasr of splendid construction
with two iwans, the larger being the northern [northwest], which overlooks the stables of the sultan, and
from which one can see the horse markets, Cairo and its suburbs as far as the Nile, and beyond to Giza
and its villages. The second or qibli [southeast] iwan has a special door [qalqashandi calls it the bab alsirr, secret door] for the departure of the sultan and his courtiers to the Iwan al-Kabir on ceremonial days.
From this qasr one can enter three inner qusur (al-qusur al-juwaniyya), of which one is on the same level
as the first qasr, and the other two are reached by a staircase. All these qusur have windows with iron
298
116
schematic plan and al-‘Umari’s description as well as the traces of the Qasr that still
remain on the Western façade of the Citadel (Fig. 5.13). The present length of the façade,
coupled with the dimensions of the vaults, Rabbat’s reconstruction and the fact that the
qa‘as of Bahri qusur tended to be raised more than a storey above these vaulted halls,
worked together to create the model shown in Figure 5.4.
The term “Qasr al-Ablaq” has often been used to refer to the entire palatial complex,
including the Iwan al-Kabir, which is often relegated to the status of a “porch or iwan
resting on a massive platform carried on corbels”.302 The reason for this confusion may
be partially due to the labeling of the Description map as well as the connected nature of
the Iwan and Qasr. Both the Qasr and the Iwan worked together to complete the
ceremonial experience at the Citadel, with the Qasr being mainly for daily receptions and
private audiences and banqueting. 303 Later Sultans would confine themselves to these
qa‘as and omit the Iwan from the ceremonial program. Eventually, courtly ceremonial
became an exclusive and private affair; appropriately held in the harem. The contrast
grilles, whence the view is the same as from the principal palace. All these palaces have channels for the
water brought from the Nile by saqiyas turned by oxen from one point to another until the water reaches
the Citadel. From there it goes into the palaces of the sultan and the houses of the great khawwās amirs
which are close to the sultans palaces. It is used in their houses and their hammams.
The qusur al-juwaniyya communicate with the inner part (haram) of the harem, and the abwab al-sutur
(gates of the veils). The facades of all these qusur are built of black and yellow stones, and within are
dadoes of marble and gold and floriated mosaics, heightened with mother of pearl and painted with lapis
lazuli. The light comes through windows filled with colored glass from Cyprus resembling necklaces of
precious stones. All the floors are paved with marble of incomparable quality transported from all the
countries of the world. Then we will report the rest of what related to the sultan’s qusur: one can descend
from the side of the iwan of the qasr to the stables of the sultan, then to a maydan covered with grass,
which is so spacious that the eye travels over it. This maydan lies between the stables and horse market to
the west [northwest]. The sultan mounts his horse from a staircase next to his inner qasr, and he descends
to his private stable, then to the mayday with the great amirs in his service to watch the horses in the days
of parades or to accept new horses brought as a gift or to buy them. In this maydan, the sultan performs
the prayer of the two holidays with his retinue, and on these occasions the sultan descends to the maydan
and returns from it through another door in the corridor of the qasr, not through the door mentioned
earlier. The sultan has many secret gates to the Qarafa and to other areas, which we need not mention
here.”
After al-Umari Masalik, 142-44 See also Maqrizi , Khitat 2: 209:10.
302
Hillenbrand, Islamic Architecture, 436-7. This loose terminology obviously led to some confusion, with
the Description illustration being mislabeled by Robert Hillenbrand as Qasr al-Ablaq.
303
Rabbat, Citadel,, 201.
117
between the desire to be seen by the city, exhibited by the Bahri sultans and the desire to
be hidden, expressed by their successors, coalesces perfectly with their attitudes to
ceremonial. This is further proof of the existence of the ceremonial-urban dynamic.
The dominance of both the Iwan and the Qasr on the Cairene skyline can be seen
somewhat in Figure 3.3]
The rise of these structures at the Citadel would have had a tremendous impact on the
medieval Cairene, confined to life in the narrow streets of Cairo. The mid-17th c.
illustration of Cairo by Piri Reis depicts a domed pavilion labeled “Yusuf Kushki” (Fig
5.14). 304 Rabbat suggest that this structure is indeed Qasr al-Ablaq;305 but I would like to
suggest a different perspective. I believe that the form and orientation of the sketch
suggest that this in fact is the Iwan al-Kabir; which is labeled on the Description map as
“Divan de Joseph;” Qasr al-Ablaq, on the other hand, is labeled “Maison de Joseph,”
which led Rabbat to attribute this domed pavilion as the Qasr al-Ablaq. This is not to say
that these maps were in any way accurate, but what we are interested in is the
“impressions” that these structures would have had and how their importance warranted
an abstraction onto these schematic maps as well as the fact that their function, as a
diwan or audience hall, was still remembered despite the loss of the true founder’s
name.306 The presence of Sultan Hasan and the Iwan al-Kabir on this schematic map is
indicative of the success of the Bahri Mamluk Sultans’ agenda in the creation of a
collective dynastic urban image for their city; one that reflected the forces of its times.
The Qasr al-Ablaq was obviously intended to be a statement; its imposing bulk and
location on the edge of the enclosure in addition to its reported great height were only
304
This unusual attribution of the Mamluk palaces to Yusuf has been related to Salah al-Din al-Ayyubi.
Rabbat, Citadel, 212-213.
306
Some would say poetic justice; for all the structures al-Nasir expropriated or tore down and were rebuilt
in his own name.
305
118
rivaled by its lavish interiors. Inspired by Baybars’s palace of the same name in
Damascus, 307 the scale of this structure was truly staggering. Based on the reconstruction
by Rabbat, its size would have been up to four times that of the Qa‘a al-Ashrafiyya (Fig.
5.4). It is no wonder that al-Nasir did not bother tearing down his brother’s qa‘a; its
comparatively diminutive presence next to his new giant would have been a far more
powerful statement.
This use of great height and monumentality, like the green faience minarets and
domes (possibly), can be seen as a manifestation of al-Nasir’s urban master plan or city
image, elaborated upon earlier. It is worth noting that the development of the typical
octagonal Mamluk minaret also began during this same period. The bigger picture that
this cumulative evidence paints speaks not only of the urban-ceremonial dynamic but
reinforces the theory suggested earlier regarding the presence of a design agenda.
307
Rabbat, Citadel, 199.
119
d. The Morphology of the Ceremonial Enclosure at the Citadel: Architectural Momentum
meets Appropriative Agenda
So far, we have interpreted the Iwan in light of its elements and their iconography
within the greater Dar al-Islam. What will follow now is an analysis of the debate for the
origins of the architectural plan and final form of the Iwan al-Kabir. The variety of
theories presented speaks not so much of the complexity of the subject as they do of the
limitations of the historical discourse. Scholars have suggested several architectural
sources for this enigmatic structure, all of which were based purely on an analysis of the
plan alone and seem to define their search typologically and not architecturally. The
assumption that is made in all these cases is that secular monuments will be generated
only from each other. The interpretations all attempt to link this building with the qa’a
plan; but fail to do so convincingly.308 Rabbat found the plan of al-Iwan al-Kabir to be
evocative of the basilica plan found in Umayyad, Roman and Byzantine royal
architecture, as well as linking it with the Iwan al-Kamili as well as the Iwan al-Kabir in
the Fatimid palace.309
In search for a more direct influence, Rabbat suggests the iwan at Qalawun’s madrasa
at Bayn al-Qasrayn, as a possible source (Fig. 5.15).310 Despite the historian’s best efforts
to trace such a complex web of influence using two-dimensional drawings only, the
resulting rationalization seems to ignore an elemental aspect of how buildings and users,
not to mention patrons, interact. It is here where the computer model can act as a
potentially useful tool for further understanding lost monuments and their architectural
paradigms. Rabbat’s attempt to link the plan of the iwan of Qalawun with the Iwan al308
Abouseif, on the other hand, goes onto link the plan with the architecture of Fatimid mashhads, again
making the link with the commemorative. See Rabbat, The Citadel, 205.
309
Rabbat, “Mamluk Throne Halls”, 205.
310
Rabbat, The Citadel, 261.
120
Kabir, leaving us with the following conclusion of how the iwan may have been
developed, “by shortening the side to almost a square and by opening threes side to
provide an unobstructed view to the outside”.311 The message of the iwan was too
deliberate; with the iconography of its dome, its placement, its strong links typologically
with other ceremonial halls to have been inspired by such an unlikely method. It is my
belief that this is not only a highly unlikely process for the evolution of any building type,
but the complexity of the design process observed at the iwan calls for an approach that
empowers the architectural historian with more potent tools.
The design process of the iwan had nothing to do with the contortion of a plan; the
design of the iwan was born from a careful appropriation that developed over several
decades of experimentation; starting with the ceremonial domes and iwans of the
Sassanians and Umayyads and being re-expressed in Cairo with the halls of the Fatimids,
the Ayyubids and finally the Mamluks. The process by which the elements of this
monument were chosen, and in this case specifically rebuilt to acquire more powerful
iconography, suggests that it is the total spatial experience and its various symbolic
associations that was strived for as well as being the controlling factor in the
appropriation process. It is also a more likely scenario that the decision makers, whether
or not the Sultan himself, would have been basing their decisions not so much on what
the building looked like on the level of a plan, but what kind of mental associations it
would have stirred up when experienced in the third dimension. This falls in line well
with the arguments regarding the symbolism of the domes, the minbar and finally the
pavilion-like structure, which will be discussed in detail below.
311
Ibid., 262.
121
The intent of the patron in the case of this structure was blatantly obvious; image of
justice that Baybars set out to achieve with his modest structure below the Citadel but on
a much grander scale. Why project an image of justice when you can project an image of
both justice and might, an image that follows closely the criteria for the effectiveness of
justice;
“Brings the litigants to an agreement by fear and prevents the contestants from rebuffing
the judgement by AWE, It is a position that that combines the authority of the ruler and
the impartiality of the judge” 312
There is little doubt that this structure fulfilled this role to perfection.
One aspect of the Iwan, the fact that it was open on three sides and commanded an
extensive view of the city, is yet to be examined in depth. The link with Fatimid
manzaras and the configuration of the Iwan al-Kabir is obvious, yet the manner by which
the Mamluk patrons combined aspects of royal architecture from all over the Islamic
world into the plan of the structure and specific qualities of Fatimid belvederes in its
ultimate form suggests a strong sense of architectural layering. There is also evidence of
the use of this site for belvederes constructed during the Abbasid period and remaining in
use till the Tulunid period, mainly the manzara known as the Qubbat al-Hawa.313 In fact,
Fatimid manzaras existed on the site of the Citadel till the end of the Fatimid period,
possibly a remnant of the Qubbat al-Hawa.
Thus, the Iwan al-Kabir brilliantly combines a very wide array of symbolism ; the
dome or qubbat al-khadra’, the iwan plan with its connotations of Abbasid, Ayyubid and
Fatimid royal architecture as well as its undeniable connections with the form of the
312
313
Idem.,“Ideological Significance”, 5.
Raymond, Cairo, 85.
122
maqsura dome and finally its visual link to the royal belvedere. The combination of the
symbols of both royal authority as well as the use of the secular-divine paints a picture
that is expressive of the religio-political environment of its time. Thus, not only was the
Iwan a strong physical presence, but also a presence that could not be mistaken for
anything but the symbol of the ruler. The fact that the Sultan chose to associate his
secular authority with the most powerful symbol of religious authority of Early Islam, the
dome, is a phenomenon worth exploring in some depth. It speaks of a desire on the part
of the patron to gain divine validation, in short to associate himself ultimately with Allah,
the ultimate expression of power, justice and dominion.
The tracking of the royal pavilion as a manifestation of the ceremonial-urban dynamic
in other dynasties of the Islamic world is out of the scope of this study, but it is necessary
to point out that the appropriative use of the concept of the royal pavilion, or manzara
element, as a model, is highly indicative of a sophisticated design system; one whose
exact workings raise more questions than answers at this point.
A final indication of the importance of the Iwan al-Kabir for the royal image is
the number of times it was torn down and reconstructed by each Sultan during the early
period, ending with the Nasiri Iwan which stood till the reign of Muhammad Ali.314
Accordingly, it is not surprising to find that such a monument should be torn down with
the arrival of Muhammad Ali in Cairo and replaced with his mosque. It is interesting to
note, that like the Mamluks, Muhammad Ali made Cairo the center of his empire and
thus would quite rightly place his symbol of dominion in such an important location, a
location symbolic of the seat of power in Cairo for hundreds of years. The recipe that
314
Rabbat, “Mamluk Throne Halls”, 128. The iwan built by Qalawun was added to by al-Ashraf Khalil and
later torn down by al-Nasir Muhammad.
123
went into the final form of the iwan was certainly multilayered and diverse and it is not
surprising that the expression of the memory of other justice halls would act on the
spatial experience and not typological precedent.
Chapter Six
An Architectural Agenda Explained
1. The End of the Ceremonial Apogee
The Mamluk Sultanate saw a steady decline during its final years, despite the
prosperity that it had enjoyed for over a century. The breakdown of the system
established by the Bahris along with the increased corruption of the various systems such
as iqta’ and waqf led to the following description by their contemporaries: “more
promiscuous than monkeys, more larcenous than mice and more destructive than
wolves.”315 And just as the system and the people that controlled it showed signs of
decay, so did the structures which had been put in place to express them; the neglect of
the ceremonial saha at the Citadel by the Burjis led to them falling into disrepair and with
the end of the Mamluk dynasty, the Iwan al-Kabir, mosque and Qasr al-Ablaq were
eventually looted and their marble, mosaics and colored-glass windows shipped off to
Istanbul by Selim I. 316
Yet apparently the Iwan al-Kabir, despite being stripped of its glory, still presented a
formidable threat to the victorious Selim; after his departure he specifically banned its
315
316
Stowasser, “Manners and Customs at the Mamluk Court”, 14.
Rabbat, Citadel, 245.
124
use by the local governors. A brilliant story of demonic association and treason was
concocted to justify the ban; it was propagated that al-Ghuri had built it in three days to
impress a Safavid dignitary, incorporating hints of jinn labor as well as collaboration
with the Ottomans’ sworn enemy; the Shi’i Safavids.317 It is clear that Selim feared the
effect this grand structure would have had on its users, it would not only be compared to
the grandeur of the audience halls of Istanbul and cast the latter in a less flattering light,
but may also have an aggrandizing effect on the governors themselves; by hosting their
audiences in a hall truly fit for a Sultan, they would begin to believe themselves worthy
of the Sultanate. The fact that the power of the message of the Iwan was obvious enough
to warrant a “cover-up” seems to represent the final piece of our puzzle. In fact, an
interesting feature of Figure 5.9 shows unusual brackets wrapping around the outer
inscription band of the Iwan with small fragments of tattered cloth flapping in the wind
below them; could this have been done by the Ottomans to cover up all the inscriptions
within the structure? This is the only explanation I have for this truly unusual
phenomenon.
317
Ibid., 246.Their level of intimidation must have been high indeed if their awe of the grandeur of the iwan
led them to a supernatural explanation; not unlike the various theories of the Great Pyramids being built by
extraterrestrial entities.
125
An Agenda Elaborated: The Issue of Patron Intent, Dynastic Message and the Urban
Agenda
This study has shown that the ceremonial focal points of Cairo responded to a
dynamic consistently expressed throughout its history, regardless of the type of ideology
expressed. The urban-ceremonial dynamic began in earnest under the Fatimids and
continued a nearly linear development under the Mamluks, with only a change in
emphasis. The establishment of the Fatimid lingua franca was aimed at uniting
ceremonial throughout Cairo, was articulated through ceremony and seemed to operate
through the use of a specific urban language, and we see a similar process taking place
under the Bahri Sultans. In their case they consistently developed an urban lingua franca,
one based essentially on Cairene elements, but with enough fusion of vocabulary to also
make it pan-Islamic.
The use of the manzara memory in the design of the Iwan al-Kabir betrays a specific
interest in Fatimid secular royal architecture when it suited their needs and was not
obvious to the public eye. In the case of the manzara, not only is its form ideal for
viewing panoramas of the city, it also had been re-interpreted fully as a royal Mamluk
symbol, as explained previously. This shows us a side of Mamluk rationale that is highly
relevant to the question at hand, the Shi’i Fatimid legacy was an enticing, yet forbidden
source for legitimacy and grandeur. Direct association with such a legacy could only be
done in the subtlest sense; on the subconscious level of urban imageability.318
318
I introduced the concept of imageability early in this thesis was one of the terms that analysts use to
explain what gives cities their specific image. See Kevin Lynch, The Image of the City.
126
When we couple this information with the fact that the structures at the southern
enclosure with their unusual and unique minarets and domes were placed on the most
visible sites in Cairo, we are left with a striking example of royal visual dominion. The
connotative qualities of the choice of all the elements point to a striving for an urban
image. The Mamluk sultans conveyed a clear and powerful message through the skyline
created upon the Citadel; by coupling high visual exposure with placement within the
inaccessibility of the Citadel they created the proverbial “diamond within a showcase;”
admired and out of reach. In this they called upon imageability in its highest forms.
The fusion of elements at the Iwan al-Kabir speaks clearly of the urban lingua franca;
where the Fatimid manzara, essentially Abbasid, was fused with the urban impact of the
monumental ceremonial dome of the Abbasid and Umayyad palaces (Fig 6.1). These
together created an ideologically charged urban expression. As for the interior, the
Umayyad-Fatimid dome connection created a sensation of interior space which was
evocative of the glory of past empires and reinforced the connection with the Almighty.
The divine connection phenomenon has already been commented on earlier in regards to
the self-same design approach to the facades of both the mosque and the Iwan al-Kabir
and in a way also falls in step perfectly with our reading of the Bahri patron’s profile. An
association with Allah, as the epitome of justice, might, wealth and power, seems a
highly appropriate one and in light of the religious fervency of the period also most
likely. Whether this provides proof for the presence of the so-called “Islamic architectural
expression” is a matter of opinion, but in this case the coalescence of the belief in the
power of the Almighty that all Muslims possess, and the desire of the Bahri patron, and
more specifically al-Nasir Muhammad, to associate secular expressions with a divine
127
power seems at this point to be a logical conclusion. The assumption here of course is
that the patron had this belief in Allah; one that can never be confirmed but is most likely.
The totality of this expression worked together to form a building unique within the
Islamic world. The appropriateness of the language and the sophistication of the system
that inspired it led to a building that was essentially Cairene, essentially Mamluk and
essentially Islamic.
2. Closing Remarks
Like the Fatimids, ceremonial for the Mamluks was centered on their nexus of power,
just as al-Qahira had been their political and religious hub, so had the Citadel, maydan
and eventually northeastern cemetery been for the Mamluks. We can conclude that the
interaction of the Bahri Sultans with the general population was a carefully
choreographed affair; not unlike the case of the Fatimids. The settings for this interaction
was one that cast the sultans in the most favorable light; chiefly in the proximity of their
palaces, religious foundations and troops. In a sense, the Mamluk dynastic image was
created not by the taste of a particular family, though the Qalawunid family certainly
attempted such a feat, but through a unified urban attitude towards the existing urban
fabric and user, a fabric mostly associated with two of the royal houses of Cairo, the
Fatimids and Ayyubids as well as those of early Islam, the Abbasids and Umayyads. The
Mamluks based their urban agenda for the most part on the momentum of the visual
image created by the both their Cairene and Islamic predecessors.
The famous window of Baybars al-Jashankir at his khanqah on al-Gamaliyya Street
is an example of this “acquired significance”. The window has an illustrious history,
128
originally being the window behind which the Abbasid Sultan would appear to his
people. It was captured by the Fatimids and brought to Dar al-Wizara. Finally, it was
purchased by Baybars and placed upon the façade of his mausoleum. Many have
commented on the significance of this account, the fact that it may be seen as a kind of
trophy. Yet the most interesting fact about this whole story is the statement made by alMaqrizi about it. He describes it as seeming to radiate the glory of the [Abbasid]
Caliphate, “Yakadu Yatabayyanu ‘alayhi ubbahat al-Khilafa”.319 Such a comment is not
in itself surprising, but suggests that it’s likely that members of the public may have been
capable of interpreting such “associative messages”. Even though the Abbasid Caliphate
was seen as the leader of the Sunni world and thus an association with him, unlike the
Fatimids, would have been a desirable one, it is likely that the area of Bayn al-Qasrayn
must have been specifically selected by the Ayyubids and later by the Mamluks due to its
high imageability, possibly the same type of phenomenon described by Maqrizi but on an
urban scale. Thus it is not surprising that one of the most powerful Mamluks, Baybars,
should position his madrasa directly upon the remains of the portal of the Fatimid Eastern
palace in Bayn al-Qasrayn.320
At this point I feel confidant answering a question I had often wondered about; why
in all of Dar al-Islam is Cairo one of the few cities to express radical and consistent street
alignment?321 I believe that the succession of dynasties with powerful dynastic agendas
within a single urban focus and Cairo’s dominance as one of the major cities in the Dar
al-Islam and its role as a surrogate Baghdad as well as a maturing of ceremonial and
urban practice worked together to gradually formulate a system that led to the rise of this
319
Ibid., loc. cit.
Victoria Meinecke-Berg. "Outline of the Urban Development of Cairo", 11
321
Williams, “Urbanization and Mamluk Construction”, 39.
320
129
phenomenon. The workings of this dynamic and an exploration of how it came about, is
regrettably out of the focus of this study yet is planned for future research.
The Mamluk sultans appropriated and manipulated existing architectural patterns to
create new expressions. The concept of imageability was possibly a powerful regulator
for this agenda. The aim of the agenda was the creation of a Mamluk identity which was
projected to both enemies and allies. They had a strong desire to do so as their profile
suggests and they were able to develop a system that articulated this powerfully.
It is tempting to say that had the Ottoman invasion of Cairo come a century later, it is
very likely that the area of the Northeastern cemetery would have probably turned into
another Qasaba and there may even have been some very interesting urban activity on the
eastern enclosure of the Citadel, so as to be visible from the new ceremonial approach.
The fact that the Mamluks chose this area, along their ceremonial path, and began their
own areas of high imageability, is a final piece of evidence in our conclusion that the
Mamluk patron relied on this concept heavily as a main design criterion.
The Mamluks’ ability to superimpose their aesthetic code onto a pre-existing
fabric and cityscape without disturbing the visual equilibrium of the city speaks of an
architectural and urban sensitivity of the highest degree. The city of Cairo would not be
what it is today had it not been for the fascinating layering of history observed within its
streets and skylines, a layering that utilized the past with the greatest virtuosity. By
analyzing the city through the eyes of the patron, we observe that the city image shows
strong evidence of being based on an articulate urban agenda. The development of the
ceremonial path and the royal residence betray the royal image at its most assertive; it is
within these areas that Mamluk urban and architectural intent becomes most expressive.
130
In short, the image of the city of Cairo speaks of a strong desire to legitimize itself
through layers of royal and monumental associations, merged and balanced to create an
image that possesses the excitement of innovation, the comfort of familiarity and the
“monumental momentum” of past glory. I leave you with the following quote, after I
have borne the burden of proof; I stand exonerated from the burden of your conviction.
The external form is for the sake of the unseen form and that took shape for
the sake of another unseen. Count these corollaries to the third, fourth or
tenth in proportion to your insight”
Mathnavi, 4, 2887-8.
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135
Computer Generated Imagery
Appendix
The CGI was designed using 3D MAX and Photoshop software and relied on the
following sources as general historical references:
Nicholas Warner, The Monuments of Historic Cairo (AUC Press, 2005).
David Roberts, Egypt: Yesterday and Today (AUC Press, 1996).
Nasser Rabbat, The Citadel of Cairo: A new Interpretation of Royal Mamluk
Architecture (New York, 1995).
For the reconstruction of plans, conjectural locations and decoration of buildings the
following sources proved invaluable:
Description de l'Egypte, publiée par les ordres de Napoléon Bonaparte, trans. Gilles
Néret (Köln : Benedikt Taschen, 1994).
Taqai al-Din Al-Maqrizi, Mawā‘iẓ wa’l- i‘tibār fī dhikr al-khiṭaṭ wa-al-āthār (Lubnān,
1959).
136
Idem, “The Citadel of Cairo: Stage for Mamluk Ceremonial”, Annales Islamologiques 24
(1988), 25-79.
Roberts Hillenbrand, Islamic Architecture: Form, Function and Meaning (AUC Press,
2000).
The re-construction process relied on complete graphical documentation of all existing
structures. Where site photography was not possible due to inaccessibility, the following
sources were of great assistance.
www.archnet.org
The following document elaborates how the process took place in regards to basic source
materials.
137