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.

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The Ceremonial-Urban Dynamic of Cairo from the Fatimid to the Early Mamluk Period

Contents1. Chapter One: Methods and Means

2. An Architecture of Urban Forces3. The Methodological Approach4. A Review of the Literature5. Conceptual Considerations6. The Reconstruction: Ceremonial, Urbanism and the Sultanic Image7. Pre-Mamluk Cairo8. Final Considerations

2. Chapter Two: the Fatimid Ceremonial-Urban Dynamic

1. Ceremonial and the Fatimid Urban Image2. The Reign of al-Aziz3. The Reign of al-Hakim to al-Afdal4. The Reign of al-Amir5. The Fatimid Symbolic Urban Language6. General Conclusions

3. Chapter Three: A Profile of the Patrons

1. The Mamluk Backgrounda. An Elitist Societyb. Prevailer Rulesc. Legitimacy and the Dynastic imaged. 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 Cairo2. Mamluk Ceremonial under the Bahri Sultans.3. The Reign of Baybars

a. The Constructions of Baybars at the Citadelb. The Dar al-‘Adl Phenomenon and the Dar al-‘Adl al-Zahiriyya

4. The Reign of Qalawun5. The Reign of al-Ashraf Khalil6. The Evolution of the Ceremonial Vocabulary: Elements and Patterns7. Conclusions

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5. Chapter Five: The Ceremonial-Urban Dynamic during the reign of the Sultan al-Nasir Muhammad b. Qalawun

1. The Dynastic Agenda: Politics and Architecture2. Ceremonial and the Sultanic Image3. The Southern Enclosure of the Citadel

a. Al-Iwan al-Kabir: An Analysisb. 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

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“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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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

1This 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.

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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 “Khaldun and the Image of the City”, 307.4 Kessler, “Funerary Architecture”, 257-267.

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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 al-

Mihmandar (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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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

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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 ”, 293-309.18 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.

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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”.

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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-

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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.html23 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) andIdem, “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.

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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

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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.

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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 al-Mawākib wa-Wad` al-Mabāni al-Athariyya fi al-Shawari`", Annalesislamologiques/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).40 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).

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., 261.45 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.

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 Rabbat,Citadel , 220.51 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 Abdo Qassem, Age of the Mamluk Sultans, 29.53 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 Nicholas Warner, Historic Monuments of Cairo, 4.55 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.

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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 pre-

Fatimid 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 mosque-

palace 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 al-

Qahira. 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 al-

Amir. 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 al-

hikma 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., 50.62 Ibid., 42.63 Ibid., 43.64 Ibid., 43.

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 al-

Jamaliyya 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., 48.66 Ibid., 49.67 Ibid., 73.68 Ibid., 49.69 Ibid., 51.

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., 63.71 Ibid., 5572 Ibid, 55. 73 Ibid, 61.

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, 56.75 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.

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

و�ال)ذ�ين� ات)خ�ذ�وا� م�س�ج�د�ا ض�ر�ار�ا و�ك�ف�ر�ا و�ت�ف�ر�يق�ا ب�ي�ن� ال�م�ؤ�م�ن�ين� و�إ�ر�ص�اد�ا ل�م�ن� ح�ار�ب� الل�ه) ال�ح�س�ن�ى و�الل�ه� ي�ش�ه�د� إ�ن)ه�م� ل�ك�اذ�ب�ون و�ر�س�ول�ه� م�ن ق�ب�ل� و�ل�ي�ح�ل�ف�ن) إ�ن� أ�ر�د�ن�ا إ�ل

“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

ل� ت�ق�م� ف�يه� أ�ب�د�ا ل)م�س�ج�دE أ�س�س� ع�ل�ى الت)ق�و�ى م�ن� أ�و)ل� ي�و�م@ أ�ح�ق< أ�ن ت�ق�وم� ف�يه� ف�يه� ر�ج�الي�ح�ب<ون� أ�ن ي�ت�ط�ه)ر�وا� و�الل�ه� ي�ح�ب<

ال�م�ط)ه�ر�ين�

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, 9:107.79 Ibid, 9:108.80 Ibid, 9:18.

39

إ�ن)م�ا ي�ع�م�ر� م�س�اج�د� الل�ه� م�ن� آم�ن� ب�الل�ه� و�ال�ي�و�م� الخ�ر� و�أ�ق�ام� الص)ل�ة� و�آت�ى الز)ك�اة� و�ل�م

) الل�ه� ف�ع�س�ى أ�و�ل�ـئ�ك� أ�ن ي�ك�ون�وا� م�ن� ال�م�ه�ت�د�ين ي�خ�ش� إ�ل

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

م�ا ك�ان� ل�ل�م�ش�ر�ك�ين� أ�ن ي�ع�م�ر�وا� م�س�اج�د� ا ش�اه�د�ين� ع�ل�ى أ�نف�س�ه�م� ب�ال�ك�ف�ر� أ�و�ل�ئ�ك� ح�ب�ط�ت

أ�ع�م�ال�ه�م� و�ف�ي الن)ار� ه�م� خ�ال�د�ون

“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

أ�ج�ع�ل�ت�م� س�ق�اي�ة� ال�ح�اج� و�ع�م�ار�ة� ال�م�س�ج�د� ال�ح�ر�ام� ك�م�ن� آم�ن� ب�الل�ه� و�ال�ي�و�م� الخ�ر� و�ج�اه�د

ف�ي س�ب�يل� الل�ه� ل� ي�س�ت�و�ون� ع�ند� الل�ه

� و�الل�ه� ل� ي�ه�د�ي ال�ق�و�م� الظ)ال�م�ين�

81 Ibid, 9:17.82 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 Paula Sanders, Ritual, Politics and the City, 60.84 Ibid., 73.

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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, 31.91 Ibid., loc. cit.92 Paula Sanders, Ritual, Politics and the City, 72.93 Abouseif, “Aqmar Mosque”, 32.

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would also exhibit strong features of “street-responsiveness”, like the mosque of al-

Hakim, 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, al-

Ma’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., 29.95 Ibid, 30.96 Ibid, 33.97 Ibid., 32.

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, 42.99 Ibid, 36.100 Grabar, Ceremonial and Art at the Umayyad Court, 22.

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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 ceremonial-

symbolic 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, 39.102 Ibid, 37.103 Ibid., loc. cit.

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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.

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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.

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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 one-

way, 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.

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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 Williams, “Urbanization and Mamluk Construction”, 34.111 Abdou Qassem, Age of the Mamluk Sultans, 10.

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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 religio-

political 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’a-

based 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.

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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”, 4.114 Ibid., 19.115 Ibid., 4.116 Ibid., 5.117 Grabar, Ceremonial and Art at the Umayyad Court, 22.

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 al-

Mulk 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., 6.119 Ibid., 5.120 Ibid., 4.121 Ibid., 6.

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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”, 58.123 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.

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.

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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.

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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 re-

adapted 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?”, 71-74.132 Stowasser, “Manners and Customs at the Mamluk Court”, 15.133 Ibid., loc. cit.

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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.

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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 al-

Islam. 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.

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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”, 33.136 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.

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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 urban-

ceremonial 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 Abouseif, “The Citadel of Cairo”, 2.139 Abouseif, “Aqmar Mosque”, 29.

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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 al-

Futuh, 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.

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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.

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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.

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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 Rabbat, The Citadel, 238.146 Hamza, The Northeastern Cemetery, 2.

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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 Abouseif, “The Citadel of Cairo”, 29.148 Idem.

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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.150 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.

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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”, 16.156 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.

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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 al-

Nasir; 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.

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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 Maydan-

Citadel 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.

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same time we observe ceremonial at the Citadel receding even further out of the semi-

public 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 See Appendix.162 Ibid, 17.

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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 re-

enforcing 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.

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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 al-

Qahira, 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.

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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, 102.170 Ibid, 103.171 Qassem, 12.

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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.

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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, 94.174 Ibid., 152.175 Ibid., 94.

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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., 110.177 Ibid, 106.178 Ibid, 105.179 Ibid, 104.

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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”, 4.181 Ibid., loc. cit.182 Ibid., loc. cit.183 Ibid., 11.

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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., 12.185 Ibid., loc. cit.186 Ibid., 12-13.187 Ibid., loc. cit.

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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 al-

Ashraf 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 Ibid., 13.189 Ibid., loc. cit.

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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.

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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.192 Ibid., 141.193 Ibid., loc. cit.194 Ibid., loc. cit.195 Ibid., 143.

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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 al-

Siba’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 al-

Ashraf 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., 142.197 Ibid., 141.198 Ibid., 145.

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under Qalawun that the Qubba al-Mansuriyya199 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.

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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., 152-3.205 Ibid., 150-1.206 Ibid., 152-3.207 Ibid., 150-1.208 Ibid., 154.

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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 al-

Niyaba, 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., 155.210 Ibid., loc. cit.211 Ibid., 156.

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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 Ibid., 171.213 Ibid., 170.

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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.215 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.

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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.

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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 al-

Nasir.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.

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Chapter Five

The ClimaxThe 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

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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.

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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, 185.226 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.

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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 al-

Qasrayn, 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”, 35.231 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.

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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 al-

234 Examples of this would be the involvement of Ibn Tulun in the design of his minaret, as well as al-Mansur’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), al-

Mihmandar (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, 238.241 Rabbat, Citade,, 240.242 Rabbat, Citadel, 240.

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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 so-

called “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 Rabbat, Citadel, 139.244 Stowasser, “Manners and Customs at the Mamluk Court”, 19.

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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 al-

Qasrayn, 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

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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 pavilion-

like 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.

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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 Siryaqus-

Northeastern 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 Rabbat, Citadel, 232-34.251 Rabbat, Citadel, 232-34.

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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 al-

Kabir.

252 Williams, “Urbanization and Mamluk Construction”, 38.253 Rabbat, Citadel, 232-34.254 Rabbat, , “Ideological Significance”, 18.255 Rabbat, “Ideological Significance”, 20.256 Ibid, loc. cit.

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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 Al-

Nasir’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 ceremonial-

urban 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 al-

Nasir 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., 21.258 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.

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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, 192.262 Ibid., 199.263 Rabbat, Citade, 194.264 Rabbat, Citadel, 194.

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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.

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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.

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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 al-

Ashrafi.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.

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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, 191.271 Idem, “Ideological Significance”, 13.272 Rabbat, Citadel, 226-7.273 Ibid., 247.274 A recent collapse in the paving in front of the Mosque of al-Nasir, revealed a section of the wall of the Iwan al-Kabir. 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.

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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.

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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, 249.279 Ibid, 252.280 Ibid., 248.281 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

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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., 252.283 Idem., “The Ideological Significance of Dar al-Adl”, 15.284 Ibid., 16.285 Rabbat, “Mamluk Throne Halls”, 204.

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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, 136.287 Rabbat, “Mamluk Throne Halls”, 204.288 Ibid., 204. Rabbat acknowledges the arguments over the meaning of Qubbat al-Kadra’(Rabbat, 1995b, p.258-9), 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, 48.290 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.

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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.292 Rabbat, Citadel, 250.293 Holy Quran, 14:32-33.

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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 al-

Nasir 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,

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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 al-

Kabir. 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, 22.295 Sanders, Ritualizing the City, 36.296 Descriptions de l’egypte, 230.

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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, 209.298 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 al-sirr, 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

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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.

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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.305 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.

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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.

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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 al-308 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.

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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.

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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 Idem.,“Ideological Significance”, 5.313 Raymond, Cairo, 85.

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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.

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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 Stowasser, “Manners and Customs at the Mamluk Court”, 14.316 Rabbat, Citadel, 245.

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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.

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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

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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,

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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 al-

Maqrizi 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.320 Victoria Meinecke-Berg. "Outline of the Urban Development of Cairo", 11321 Williams, “Urbanization and Mamluk Construction”, 39.

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‘iz wa’l- i‘tibār fī dhikr al-khitat 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